Hey guys! I absolutely love the world(s)/shadowrealm(s) that NF takes place in! So, I'd thought I'd write a little fanfic for it. :) No promises on updates, I'm pretty sporadic when it comes to that, but if I get enough comments, I might continue.

Sigh. I dont' own any of this... sadly. Michael Scott does. :) (And he's my absolute favourite author of all time!) But anyways, I hope you guys enjoy! It takes place before Sophie and Josh, so let's see what's going on with the good ol' Flamels...

September 2, 1666

The burly baker was surprised to find his shop on fire.

He dropped the bag of flour he had just collected from the back store room and grabbed a nearby bucket by its handle. He dumped it into a barrel of water and tried fruitlessly to douse the flames that danced out of the oven and canopied the surrounding tables. Flour and sugar crackled in the heat, showering the air with mini explosions.

Crimson and gold flames licked up the wooden walls of the bakery. The black smoke-filled air was tainted with the regular smells of burning wood, cinnamon, and garlic, but the sweet scent of mint and the sour odor of sulfur were definitely out of place.

The fire grew to impossible heights in a short amount of time. The baker dropped the useless bucket and threw his arm over his nose and mouth, coughing as he tried to purge the polluted oxygen out of his system. He'd suffocate if he stayed any longer. Sacrificing the last clean air in his lungs, he shouted up the spiral staircase that led upstairs, but his voice was lost in the roar of the burning inferno. He coughed and sputtered, then with a heavy decision, he left the back rooms and ducked under the counter, leaving everyone behind in the flat above. Pausing, he urgently told his only two customers that they needed to get out of the store, that the back room was on fire, but when they made to move to flee the building, he shook his head and wove past them.

He barreled the front door down, and wisps of black smoke curled out onto the streets. The baker turned around, his eyes wandering up the two story building. Only a few minutes had passed and the deadly fire was already raking up the to the second floor, where flames were seen writhing behind the glass-paneled windows.

A maid came running out the door shortly after him. Her hair was a dark brown, pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck. Her long dress was singed and soot was painted across her face. Tears slid down the woman's cheeks and she suppressed a sob. The baker moved forward, grabbed her arm and pulled her out of harm's way as part of the wall fell away before them. Splinters flew in every direction, and the baker once again put his arm over his face protectively.

The two men inside had barely even noticed the wildfire taking place around them. Pale blue eyes watered from the smoke, but they stared intently at the latter's. Dr. John Dee smiled, a cruel, vicious sneer, then his hand shot out to the counter beside him. The stench of burnt eggs intensified, and tendrils of the man's pale yellow aura leaked from his fingers onto the pots and pans littering the table top.

The English Magician's aura enveloped around the shaped metal, hardening into a protective case. Copper and iron glowed white-hot, and Dee closed his fist around the yellow tendrils, where they solidified in his palm. He tugged suddenly, and the array of cooking supplies were sling-shotted in Nicholas Flamel's direction.

The famous Alchemyst ducked as two copper bowls flew over his head, then as a set of matching measuring cups soared to his left. The man's pale eyes followed the objects as they shifted shape in midair, their rims curling in on themselves and morphing them to deadly hot blobs. With a somewhat liquified clang, they splattered against the wall behind him, disappearing into the fire.

"I see you still remember what I've taught you." Nicholas mused, straightening and turning to the immortal.

A small smile passed over the Doctor's thin lips. "Of course I do." He said, just loud enough for his opponent to hear. He took a few steps forward, pushing a chair out of his way. "I've also picked up a few extra things." The man continued. He lifted his hand straight out in front of him. A yellow-white orb popped into existence just above his hand, growing as he fed his energy into it.

Nicholas Flamel eyed it cautiously, and the glowing orb reflected in his eyes, robbing them of the little blueness that was in them. Realization hit him, and not a second too soon, his hand came up to protect his eyes as the bakery was momentarily flushed with a blindingly white light.

The Magician took the advantage and leaped forward. He thought of a simple sword; A thin rapier that had peaked in popularity over 50 years previously. The sword materialized in his hand, the hilt a comfortable leather grip and the blade sharpened to a deathly point. He swung it testily, swinging it out in an arc in front of him.

Just as Flamel blinked the black spot out of his eyes, Dee's shoulder make contact with his chest. The Alchemyst was knocked backward, where he stumbled over his feet and toppled to the ground. A cold blade pressed against his throat.

"I want the Book, Flamel." Dee growled.

Nicholas's breath caught in his lungs. He coughed, then spat, "Never."

Flamel's hand shot out, and a beam cracked and fell over, carrying hundreds of pounds of wood covered in fire. The Alchemyst rolled over, and Dee lunged in the opposite direction as the beam brought sparks and ashes flying everywhere.

Flamel nimbly sprang to his feet. He darted towards the front door, which swung blithely on its hinges. Pushing it open, he was exposed to the chaos occurring outside. Citizens rushed back and forth, carrying water buckets and blankets as they tried to suppress the fire that was leaping from building to building. The burning conflagration had spread to almost half the street, and most houses, flats, and stores where now being evacuated.

Behind him, he heard a shriek of vexation. Glass cracked, then shattered completely. Shards rained down on the immortal, and he cringed away from the glass pieces.

It wasn't hard to blend in with the crowd on Pudding Lane. People were covered with soot, grime, and sweat as they pushed past their compatriots. Nicholas jogged forward, gently nudging some of the people out of his way. He risked a glance back at the burning bakery, which was now reduced to almost a skeleton.

Dee coughed and sputtered, stumbling out the front door to the street. The sudden clear air seared his lungs, and the Doctor found himself leaning over, his hands on his knees, gasping.

He studied his shadow for a moment, long and lithe from the setting sun. When his breathing was under control, he calmly straightened to his full height. He wasn't worried about Nicholas Flamel, he'd see him again. Like all of the humani race, he was just as predictable. He was going to his wife.

He was running to Perenelle Flamel.

So how was that for a start? I hoped you like! Remember, leave your comments, they make my day! -Love from Jay