Too Long A Life
Nicholas huffed as he came to a stop. His four-hundred-something years old body wasn't used to running after a little puppy.
The man had been playing with the pup in the garden, teaching it how to pick up sticks, when she had ran off. He had run after her, or rather, had tried to. Now, he was panting like a dog (the irony!) and the pup was nowhere to be found.
A month ago, when the American President of Magical Congress had proudly shown the Flamels his new little of Crups, Nicholas had resigned himself to the fact that they wouldn't be leaving without one.
True to his prediction, Perenelle had picked a little female who had a patch of light-brown on her otherwise white head. Nicholas would remember what had followed for a long time.
"An excellent choice, that is! Forgive me if I am overstepping my bounds, but do you have a training to look after a Crup?"
"Of course," Nicholas grinned, "When one lives for four centuries, one picks up little things like that from here and there."
The minister laughed good-naturedly, his pot-belly shaking. "Very well. So, would you like us to sever the tails or would you rather do that yourself?"
Perenelle muttered expletives at that, before turning to the President. "That is not going to happen." Then she went into a long rant about how the British inhumanely cut off the tails just to keep Muggles from discovering two-tailed dogs, not thinking once about the pain the pups would be in.
The President did not dare ask if the Crup would get a loving home.
Belle had come home with them.
Though, Nicholas thought as he placed a hand on the rune-covered table and picked the glass of water that appeared on it, had he known she would be such a handful, he would have argued against it.
Nicholas shook his head, laughing. That was all words—even after four centuries, he couldn't deny Perenelle anything she desired.
With that thought in mind, he murmured the keyword to transfigure the sofa into a bed and settled into it. He had fed Belle, and the pup knew where to find water, so she could run about creating mayhem for a couple of hours. Until then, he would read.
A puppy's yapping that woke Nicholas. He looked around to find Perenelle sitting on the single chair of the sofa. Her blue eyes followed Belle as the puppy sniffed at her feet, and a soft smile was etched onto her face. That turned to a mock-glare when she spotted Nicholas.
"Where did you find her?"
Perenelle suppressed a giggle as she said, "In the boot cupboard under the stairs. It seems to have become her favourite spot—she loves to chew at your shoes."
Nicholas stared at her, horrified, and Perenelle threw her head back in laughter.
Belle seemed to be growing at an unprecedented rate. It seemed just yesterday that Perenelle had got the now three-year-old crup, but Nicholas couldn't seem to remember a time when he or his wife weren't running after the dog, who, Nicholas thought, had taken up the mission to create as much mayhem as she could.
Though, he thought as he ran after the dog who had his wand in her mouth (Perenelle wouldn't even summon it!), at least she got them to exercise. The elixir couldn't do much more than give them breath—they had to work their bodies and their magic to keep them on their feet.
Nicholas paused, out of breath, and took support of the doorframe, as the dog ducked into the place she had claimed as hers. Of course, even that couldn't reverse the side-effects of having a body as old as his or Perenelle's. He decided Belle couldn't harm his wand too much, and he'd get it out of from the boot cupboard later.
Perenelle approached him as he was reading in his study, a serious expression on her face. The witch was usually easy-going, so Nicholas sat up straight in his cushion-chair.
"Dearest, I was wondering if…" Perenelle paused in her thoughts. "Belle is going to turn nine soon." Nicholas thought he knew where this was going, but he let Perenelle put it into words. "I was wondering if… I love her very much, Nicholas."
The man couldn't bear the sadness on his wife's face. "You want to feed her the elixir."
Perenelle nodded. "Will it be safe for her?"
"I don't see why it wouldn't be," Nicholas wondered out loud, as he thought of all the possibilities. "We can try a little amount, perhaps."
It was thus decided, and the experiment didn't go badly, even though there weren't any visible results—not that there were supposed to be any, Nicholas thought, as Belle was in her prime age.
He supposed the dog did spend a bit more time in her hideout, though he looked over that as Belle did this anytime she got moody.
The Elixir seemed to have worked, and Nicholas knew Belle made Perenelle happy, so the man was content.
All was good in Flamel household, as it had been for nearly half a century, with all the three members happy and keeping each other engaged. Perenelle had been over the moon when she realised her beloved Belle would live with them as long as they did, and even at an age of forty-seven—around three times her life-span, that is—Belle still kept them on their toes.
Nicholas could swear he had enough practice to run a marathon and not be out of breath with how much the dog loved to run away with his possessions, and at over four-and-a-half centuries, that was quite a feat. Why, sometimes he even managed to outrun her now.
At that moment, Nicholas was chasing Belle who had once again decided to take the man's wand, and that was how Ignatius Warbeck found the Alchemy genius.
"Mr. Flamel." Nicholas turned, then took in the man who closed the distance between them and stuck his hand out as if he hadn't seen the much older man chase a dog, bare-feet and in his bathrobe.
"Ahem, Mr. Warbeck, pleased to meet you."
"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Flamel, trust me," the man said with a charming smile. "Was that a crup I saw?"
Nicholas nodded. "That was Belle, yes."
"Charming," the man mused. "I've never seen an adult one with tails intact. Would you mind me taking a look at her?"
"Ah, yes, you're quite the breeder yourself. Of course, though I reckon she is hiding under the stairs now."
Mr. Warbeck knitted his eyebrows. "Does she do that a lot? Hide there, I mean?"
Nicholas laughed. "She loved to chew my shoes to tatters. A couple of decades ago—" the younger man whistled at that "—Perenelle decided to clear the space out, but yes, she hides there a lot."
The Alchemist led the crup breeder to Belle's hiding spot and coaxed Belle out. By then, they were joined by the lady of the house, who scratched her dog behind the ear.
Mr. Warbeck took a wand out of his robe-pocket, and after assuring the Flamels that he wasn't about to harm their pet, he cast a diagnostic charm. Moments later, his face paled.
"What—what did you do to her?"
Perenelle stared at the man, an indignant expression on her face. "You think we would do anything to her?" Then, her brain seemed to catch up. She asked in a small voice, "Is Belle alright?"
"Alright?" The younger man's voice was high-pitched and rather strangled.
Wordlessly, Nicholas led them to the sitting room and sat on the couch. Belle followed and barked at them when they wouldn't speak. As she finally ran away, bored, Nicholas said, "Elaborate." It felt way too much like talking of a child's illness behind their back.
Mr. Warbeck sighed and placed his forehead in his hands. "I think you mentioned the dog's been around for a couple of decades, perhaps even longer. If I'm right in my theory, you gave her the elixir of life."
Nicholas exchanged a look with Perenelle. "Yes. Yes, we did."
"Well, I have theorised that Belle didn't have enough magic to accept the Elixir. She's breathing, yes, but her body's not really alive, no. The elixir is eating it up from the inside to make up for the internal magic, and what is holding her alive now is just magic."
Nicholas had been staring at his wife the whole time, and her face was a chalky white. "But… but she never showed any sign of discomfort."
"The pain started off and increased gradually," the expert said, "and very slowly. So, I believe she has had time getting used to it. Though, I think this is why she might have been seeking her little hideout even more since she has outlived her age—crups tend to hide in days towards their end."
Perenelle now had tears in her eyes. Nicholas thought his own were moist, too. "Thank you, Mr. Warbeck," she whispered. "I would like to end her misery. I can't put her through it any longer, not that I know what I know now."
Ignatius Warbeck sighed. "I don't normally do this, but for you, I'll do the job."
Later that night, as Perenelle sobbed in Nicholas' chest, knowing they wouldn't hear Belle's bark again, she asked if this was what it felt like to lose a child before one died. The man could only say he wouldn't know.
Though, when she said she wished Belle had been taken from them years ago, when she would have died a natural death and had not been unknowingly tortured for decades, Nicholas wholeheartedly echoed the sentiment.
1622 words
Written for QLFC by Beater 2 of Falmouth Falcons
Prompts: Write about losing a pet (to death or otherwise).
Optional: (phrase) under the stairs, (sound) bark or mew, (action) running