A/N:

Written for the International Wizarding School Championship.

School and Year: Durmstrang, Year 3

Theme: Grindelwald Wins AU

Prompts: McGonagall/? [Main], Science Fiction, Snowing

Word Count: 2296

The Theory of War

World War Three had devastated the world - the war between the humans and the magical population. It was the first time in the history of magic that all magical creatures and wizardkind had united under the threat of extinction.

But it had been too late.

Gellert Grindelwald's pursuit of magical dominion over all mankind had forced the wizards to come out of hiding. The Muggles had been in the middle of their own war and the danger of an unknown threat had destroyed any chance of peace. For some time, both sides had tried to maintain a dialogue of a sort but that had all ended when Grindelwald had won and openly declared war on every Muggle.

With a bigoted agenda and a fierce desire to make sure Muggles were subservient, Grindelwald had led a war from Europe. By that time, a fierce fight had broken out in all continents, only to stop abruptly when the nuclear-capable nations had called for a nuclear strike against each other.

Millions of Muggles had died.

Thousands of magical kind had died.

Decades later, the nuclear holocaust was still painful, real and devastating. The threat of war had diminished and Grindelwald had died. But it did not matter. The people who had managed to survive – Muggle or magical – had chosen to protect themselves. There was no parliament, no government, and no monarchy.

They were all on their own.

There were whole cities and towns quarantined and in the danger zone.

England would have been safe had it not been for the dark wizards that ruled it with an iron fist. They were followers of Grindelwald.

Many families had fled and settled elsewhere in the safe zone.

Delacourt Village was one of the areas in the safe zone. It was home to many witches and wizards – current population 245. On the outskirts of Petite-Chaux, it was currently the only wizarding settlement that was hidden, protected and safe.

It was also a village buried under a pile of snow.

Minerva McGonagall felt the snow melt into her clothes and debated whether they needed to re-do the spells for the Nuclear Winter Protocol.

The weather could be unpredictable, even in the safe zones. The snow they got was the most dangerous of all. She remembered the way it had seeped into the skin of many and left cancerous boils. Things had gotten better – the Nuclear War had been nearly fifty years ago. However, the danger was still there.

As she trudged through the snow, she checked the perimeter wards and stilled when she felt the breach.

A siren went off and within seconds, Minerva McGonagall was rushing towards the front gate. The sentries at the gate took positions and aligned themselves accordingly.

With a ripple of magic, Alastor Moody – bundled up in heavy clothes with every inch of skin covered – walked into the camp.

Minerva almost rushed towards him but controlled herself and stilled.

There would be time for a reunion later.

She could feel Alastor's scowl as he all but dragged a form towards the first cabin.

All Minerva saw was blood, bruises and a pair of startling green eyes.

Her heart stilled for a moment.

Making her way towards the cabin, Minerva looked at the curious faces of the crowd that had gathered. Alastor had been gone for nearly six months with no word. Many had believed him to be dead.

"Get back to your work!" she ordered.

Opening the door to the cabin, Minerva walked in.

Alastor, having removed his headgear, had already tied up the unconscious guest.

"Is that necessary?" she asked, disapproving.

Alastor only grunted.

He turned and caught her eyes for a moment and a sharp relief passed between them.

Breaking off the eye contact, Minerva looked at the boy tied to the chair.

"Is that who I think it is?"

"If you think it is the Potter whelp, then yes," Alastor answered.

Minerva snorted.

"Hardly a whelp, Alastor. He is a man half-grown."

Alastor grumbled and did a quick spell to wash the dirt and blood away from the whelp.

As the grime cleared away from his face, Minerva thought she was looking at James Potter. But she knew better.

"Harry Potter has been alive this entire time?" she asked.

"If I didn't know the whelp could talk, I would say he has been living in the wild," Alastor said grimly.

Minerva sighed.

The Potters and their presence in this village had always been a point of contention between her and Alastor. Despite their usefulness, James Potter had been reckless and Lily Potter had only fueled that recklessness. They had both been involved in the Resistance in France - an effort Minerva and Alastor had been a part of as well. After Harry's birth, the Potters' stance on fighting had only gotten worse. Because of that, Delacourt had been under constant scrutiny. It was only because of the collective efforts of Alastor, Minerva and Augusta Longbottom that the wards of the village were never breached. The Potters had realized they could not continue to stay in the village and no one had heard from them ever since. Minerva had never wanted them to leave. But the safety concerns were real and so, she had stopped her efforts in the Resistance, choosing to protect the village instead.

Minerva had heard some whispers from her old resistance contacts that the Potters had gone to England to work with some of the underground resistance against Grindelwald and that had been nearly fifteen years ago.

Minerva observed Harry Potter and narrowed her eyes after a second.

"Why isn't he covered in boils?" she asked sharply.

"A question I have asked him many times and he keeps lying," Alastor grumbled, frowning at Harry Potter.

"He should be dead," Minerva murmured, deeply troubled.

"Aye. He was out of his mind when I found him near Vouziers. Said he was fleeing from Dover."

Minerva gasped in shock. Alastor had left six months ago to help relocate a wizarding family near Besançon.

"What were you doing that far north? What happened with the Bones family?"

"They were dead by the time I got there. Chased another lead about a family. The situation is getting worse, Minerva. Before I even get to the families, they are always dead. Even worse are the magical soft spots. They have increased. I had to travel on foot. Damn that nuclear war! It has destroyed the safest way to travel. Can't use bloody portkeys."

As Alastor ranted about the effects of nuclear war, Minerva thought about what he had said.

"Dover? Harry Potter was in England?"

"Yes and it gets even better," Moody snarked. "Potter hasn't said much that has made any sense. But he keeps repeating the same thing over and over."

"What?" Minerva asked, almost afraid to know the answer.

"He says that he stole a bloody time turner and that he needs your help."

When Harry Potter woke up, it took him less than a second to wandlessly loosen the ropes and jump out of his chair.

His fighting stance relaxed as soon as he saw Minerva in front of him.

Minerva stared at the boy in wonder.

Alastor snorted at her wonder and gestured towards Harry.

"Here you are, Potter. Minerva McGonagall in the flesh! Now, tell me what the hell do you want with my wife?"

Harry Potter looked at her with wide eyes and for a second, Minerva almost believed that what Alastor had implied about Harry's mental health was actually true.

A second later, Harry's expression cleared and his extended his hand.

"Harry Potter, ma'am."

Despite everything and herself, Minerva was a little charmed by his actions.

Alastor scowled at Harry.

"You know direct contact is forbidden, boy. Especially since we don't bloody know where you have been traipsing around."

Minerva was startled when Harry rolled his eyes at Alastor's words.

"And I keep telling you that we invented a spell that helps us keep the contagions in the air away. If you would let me just show you–"

Minerva silenced Alastor with a look when he opened his mouth to reply to what she was sure was an old argument between the two.

"Harry, I knew your parents," Minerva addressed him.

Harry's emerald green eyes clouded for a moment.

"Yes, I know. They passed away a couple of years ago."

When Alastor opened his mouth to make another snarky comment, Minerva turned towards him–

"Alastor, go and get some rest. I am sure you are famished. Brutus will take care of you. I will stay here and talk to our guest and figure out what is going on."

Her tone was firm but it was more or less a command. Alastor glanced suspiciously at Harry and grumbled under his breath before leaving the room.

Two hours later, Minerva warmed her hands near the fire as Harry wolfed down his food.

She could hear the sounds from outside – it looked like another snowstorm was coming.

"And you are sure? Absolutely sure that this would work?" she asked.

Harry wiped away his mouth and nodded.

"My friend, I am telling you – she is bloody brilliant. She worked on the calculations and she is never wrong."

"So this is what the Resistance has been working on the entire time? To find a time anomaly and use the time-turner to go back in time?"

"More or less. We did not start that way. We were fighting – rescuing others, you know. But we realized how useless it was since you can't fix something this broken. Then, we started hunting down time-turners. It took us years – and many lives – to find this one."

With that, Harry took the bright gold time-turner out. It was filled with red sand and Minerva could admit that it looked vastly different from the Ministry issued time-turners she had seen decades ago.

"You changed its properties?" she questioned.

Harry ran his thumb down the glass and nodded.

"We had to," Harry responded.

"What's the plan?" Minerva asked, looking at the sparkling red slivers of sand.

"Mum mentioned the snow to us once or twice. How uncharacteristically cold it was in Petite-Chaux. We scoured through old records and found out about the snowstorms. Before the bombs, it used to happen during the winter season, now it happens all year round. The cold and abnormally grey snow which has kept the Muggles from discovering the place is also hiding the anomaly."

Minerva glanced at Harry suddenly.

"The wormhole. You wish to go to the wormhole behind the valley, the one that's in the danger zone?" Minerva clarified, dread filling her.

Harry nodded his head determinedly.

"And you need my help because you know I am the only one who would take you there?" Minerva asked, eyebrows furrowed.

Harry looked at Minerva, shifting in his seat.

"Mum and Dad told us about this place – that it was a paradise. We wished we could come here one day. But, at what cost? We are surviving, not truly living and that is no way to live. Mum told us you fought once, that you believed differently once."

"If I say yes, I risk exposing this village and all of its people, Harry. We did limited tests on the anomaly and we have no idea how the magic of the time-turner will react to it. It might destroy everything within ten miles."

Harry stared unnervingly into her eyes.

"But it won't," Harry replied. "We have accounted for every risk, why do you think it took us – me – this long to get here? But you have already made up your mind, haven't you? You knew you were going to help me the minute I walked in. Because somehow, you know this will work. This is something me and hundreds of other people have risked our lives for. It will work."

"What timeline will you go back to?" Minerva asked, refusing to believe she could be so careless with her emotions.

"Right before Grindelwald took power. I have to make sure Albus Dumbledore defeats him this time."

Hearing her former colleague's name, Minerva suppressed a shudder.

"Why that time?"

"The Resistance analyzed every decade, every action and their consequences. It all goes back to Grindelwald and his agenda. The world is not ready to know magic exists, and perhaps they will never be. But the way he exposed us, being so ignorant in his belief that he could actually rule over the muggles and face no retaliation, that is what was not supposed to happen. I will make sure it does not."

"Changing fifty years of history will take a toll on you, Harry."

"Oh, I know," Harry admitted cheerfully. "I am supposed to get blighted out of existence the second the timeline truly changes."

Hours later, Minerva watched the abnormally grey snowfall and prayed for the first time in ages.

Alastor walked towards her and Minerva finally embraced him.

She wondered if they would find each other in the alternate timeline. She understood that the circumstances had brought them together here. Maybe, circumstances would bring them together again.

"Where's Potter?" Alastor asked, leaning away from her.

Minerva tightened her hold on him and her eyes misted.

"Minerva?"

She kept looking at the snow, the way it fell and settled on the ground.

She felt the magic ripple in the air as the last snowflake settled and the snowfall stopped abruptly.

She could almost feel the disintegration begin. The Delacourt village would have never existed had Grindelwald lost.

There were no bangs and shouts.

There were no sudden noises.

There were only wisps of smoke as the cabins dissolved into nothingness.

There were only whispers and tears as she and Alastor went into the unknown.

It had worked.

-fin-