Mid 1930

Corvus had come home from 'work' one evening with the news that he, along with other important pure-blood figures, had been given tickets to the 406th Quidditch World Cup. She was ecstatic to hear that she was invited. As much as she loved the manor, she always jumped at an excuse to go out. She was mediocre at best with a broom but she liked watching others play Quidditch and very much liked the idea of watching a professional Quidditch match, especially the final of a World Cup.

It took what seemed like years to get to the Top Box but when she and Corvus finally reached the exclusive seating area, she couldn't help but marvel at the sight. The entire pitch could be seen from their spot, as well as the rest of the stadium, the crowd looking like nothing more than ants. She hung back as Corvus greeted the Ministre, smiling when she recognised the couple who had just entered the box: the Kamas. Yusuf nodded at her before going to join Corvus and the Ministre whereas Jemila greeted her in the typical French way a la Faire la bise.

"Où est petit Efraim?" she asked, noticing that Yusuf and Jemila's son wasn't present. Not that she had expected him to be given that the journey to the Top Box was long enough for people who didn't have small children.

"Il est avec l'elfe de maison à la tente."

As two high society pure-blood wives, the two of them often had tea parties together. Over the last two years, she'd been to the Kama mansion many times and had watched with a peculiar sort of envy as Jemila went through pregnancy and then her first year of motherhood. She didn't know why she should feel jealous at all; she was never the maternal sort and even if she wasn't an individual who carried a hereditary female line disease, she probably would've had just the one child to carry on its father's and/or her bloodline(s).

"Ooh, je devrai le voir au moins une fois avant de me retirer dans ma tente pour la nuit," she said, nevertheless looking forward to seeing the Kama heir.

"Bien sûr. Ton neveu te manque!"

The two women laughed as Yusuf returned, exchanging pleasantries with her before leading his wife away to their assigned seats. She, herself, joined Corvus who was waiting for her by a pair of empty seats between a Ministry official and a female guest.

"Has France ever been to the finals before?" she questioned as they both sat down. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the lady next to her look at her.

"First time ever, apparently," Corvus replied, his voice drowned out by the commentator's Amplified announcement of the start of the match.

As much as she had been looking forward to watching the match, she got distracted almost as soon as it started because she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching her. However, when she scanned her surroundings she could see that those around her were all far too enthralled and delighted by the beauty of the game to even spare her a glance. After another cursory look around the Top Box, she mentally appeased herself and picked up the Omnioculars Corvus had bought for her earlier in the day.

Soon, she forgot her initial discomfort, fully immersed in the match, even cheering along with the crowd like a child whenever France scored. She was almost sad when the game ended, though she was happy to see her national team win. It was a lucky finish; Albania was winning 100-30 until the French seeker caught the Snitch, making the end score 180-100 to France. She turned to Corvus who seemed to be deep in conversation with the official next to him under the roar of applause from the crowd, and both she and the lady sitting next to her clapped politely as the winning team made their way to the Top Box to receive the trophy.

The lady dropped her wand and it landed next to her feet. She picked it up, handing it to the woman.

"Merci," the lady said, taking her wand. "Madame Lestrange?"

"Je vous en prie," she replied, only a little surprised that the lady knew who she was. "Oui, je suis Madame Lestrange. Et vous?"

"Madame Mead. Mon mari travaille avec Monsieur Lestrange."

"Je vois." She tried not to let her scepticism be known. Corvus' 'job' was flirting with Ministry officials so unless Madame Mead's husband was another one of Grindelwald's agents, what she had just said didn't make any sense.

She turned to Corvus after he placed his hand on her shoulder, leaning forward to whisper in her ear about his plans to meet with some of Grindelwald's followers. She rolled her eyes in annoyance before nodding, watching as him and the official got up and exited the box together. She hadn't realised that even Ministry officials were so corrupt as to privately support Grindelwald.

Jemila appeared by her side a few moments later, sitting in Corvus' seat.

"Il va où?" she asked, tipping her head in Corvus' direction.

"Ne demande pas," was her exasperated reply as Yusuf joined them. She could practically feel Madame Mead staring at her. "Je pourrais aussi bien passer à votre tente et voir petit Efraim maintenant."

Jemila nodded, and the three of them made their way to the Ministre as soon as the French team left the Top Box. They politely said their goodbyes to him, his wife, and the commentator. Most of her public life involved putting on a good show for the rest of the French public; most of Grindelwald's wealthy followers were still highly respected members of the wizarding community. While she was not a follower herself, she was (according to the public) the wife of one and had to behave accordingly. She hoped whatever Corvus had gone off to do wouldn't damage their public image.

.:. QK .:.

As Jemila went to put her son to bed, she went to sit on one of the sofas next to Yusuf as his house-elf brought them two cups of tea. She immediately picked up her cup of tea, taking a long drink and then sighing in content.

"Rien de tel que une tasse de thé," she drawled, sitting back and relaxing, "mais Corvus insiste toujours pour avoir du vin à la place."

"Des ennuis au paradis?"

She smiled, shaking her head. She was happier than ever just being with Corvus. It seemed so shameful that she should want nothing more than to be a rich pure-blood housewife but it was the truth. The need to take Grindelwald down and support Dumbledore in doing so was still there, as was her desire to become better at combatant magic, but it took a backseat to living a relatively quiet life.

"Je nage dans le bonheur," she responded, turning to Yusuf. Corvus still seemed to avoid him; she'd noticed how in the Top Box Corvus had waited for her from afar while she spoke with Yusuf and Jemila rather than walking over to her and escorting her to their seats like he usually would. "Ça ne te dérange pas vraiment qu'il assume l'identité de Corvus?"

Yusuf gave a hearty laugh, shaking his head in amusement. "Voir un garçon au hasard occuper la propriété et la richesse de Corvus m'amuse. Non, ton Corvus me fait une faveur."

She nodded, relieved, suddenly remembering what she had asked of Yusuf right before his last 'business trip' to the UK. "Est-ce que Dumbledore a déjà envoyé une réponse?"

"Oui, il a," Yusuf answered before calling for his house elf to bring him something. Almost immediately, the house-elf appeared with a small envelope and, after a gesture from her master, handed it to her. "Il m'a dit de te donner ceci."

"Merci beaucoup," she said, putting her half-empty cup of tea down on the coffee table in front of her and tearing the envelope open as the house-elf made herself scarce.

Dear Miss Anguis,

Your friend is most definitely not my brother of any sort. I understand that he was a baby during the 1901 shipwreck LL spoke of but my mother died in 1899 and my father was already dead and buried a few years before that. As for him being one of my kinsmen, I have looked into the possibility and have concluded that it is very unlikely. My brother, the last of our line, definitely did not father a child in 1900/1901, of that I am certain. He and I are the only male-line descendants left.

Grindelwald has lied to your friend.

Please destroy this after you have read it.

Regards,

AD

After reading the short letter one more time, she ripped it up and threw it into the fireplace. She returned to her seat, finishing the rest of her tea and wondering what to do with the information she'd just learnt. She'd known from the very beginning that 'Aurelius Dumbledore' was a lie but it was reassuring to finally have confirmation from a somewhat credible source. As shady as Dumbledore was, this didn't seem like something he'd lie about; he had no recourse for it.

Corvus could not find out about this yet, not while he still believed in Grindelwald's cause. He was already on thin ice with Grindelwald after his aborted assassination attempt on Albus Dumbledore. He was desperate to fall back into favour with the Dark wizard. She didn't want to tell him now, without tangible proof, and risk being accused of lying to him. She didn't want to know who he would choose to believe out of her and Grindelwald.

Corvus would have to lose all respect for Grindelwald, all trust in him, before she delivered this last blow.

"Tout va bien?" Yusuf asked, a curious look on his face.

"Oui," she replied, setting her empty cup of tea down. She glanced at the magical clock on the tent wall. She'd been here for almost an hour. There was no way to tell if Corvus was done speaking to his associates or not.

Jemila hurriedly approached the seating/living area, dropping down into an armchair. "Il devient de plus en plus difficile de l'endormir."

Deciding to wait a little bit before returning to her own tent, in case Corvus was still occupied, she launched into a conversation with her two friends.

.:. QK .:.

Later that evening, she returned to her tent to find Corvus downing a small glass of Firewhisky. He managed to quickly pour himself another before she even reached him but when she did, she pulled the glass out of his hand before he could drink from it and gently placed it on a nearby table.

"How was your talk with your associates?" she inquired, looping her right arm through his left and guiding him away from the alcohol kitted table. "Dot! Take the drinks away immediately!"

Corvus stiffened as the house-elf meekly replied in the positive. Something was clearly bothering him. She sighed. She should have known that running into Grindelwald's followers and talking to them would have an effect on him; while he seemed to believe in Grindelwald's cause, some of Grindelwald's extreme actions and views, as well as his followers' attitudes towards the Non-Magique, did make him uncomfortable. She also should have known that there were bound to be some Grindelwald supporters attending the Quidditch World Cup, especially since she had seen how many of the French and Belgian were willing to throw their money away 'For the Greater Good'.

She peered up at him, surveying his red-rimmed eyes. "Do you want to go for a walk? We can talk..."

"No, I'm tired," he responded hastily, walking her to their bedroom for the night and sitting down on the edge of the bed. She did so too.

"I wish you would just tell me what's bothering you," she stated, squeezing his arm with her left hand. "You eventually always do."

"My power is fading," he murmured, hanging his head low. The action gave her pause. He didn't do that too often anymore. Corvus Lestrange didn't slouch or bow his head low. Credence Barebone did. It was strange. She hadn't thought of him as Credence in a year now; he didn't want her to.

"How is it fading?"

"I can't travel in Obscurus form anymore." She blinked, recalling how he had arrived at the campsite via Portkey with her rather than via Obscurus. At the time, she'd assumed that he was merely accompanying her.

"Since when?" she implored, thinking back to the last few days. She hadn't seen him use his Obscurus lately but she had chalked that down to the fact that he didn't really use it to travel around the manor house.

"A week or two," he answered hoarsely, disentangling his arm from hers and holding his head in his hands. "I've felt my power gradually weaken over the last few months but now it's almost completely gone. Most of the time, I can't even feel it..."

"But you've always been able to feel it, ever since you were a child," she finished for him, remembering how he had tearfully told her about the woes of having such a burdensome 'power' inside him. It had solidified, in her mind, her initial idea of the pair of them being kindred spirits. "Isn't this a good thing?"

"I'm not special anymore," he spoke, shaking his head. "Grindelwald told me that because of my powers, I'm the only one capable of defeating my brother."

She bristled, thinking about what she had learnt mere hours ago. He was still concerned about what Grindelwald thought of him. He would never believe her if she told him the truth now. Grindelwald was a saint in his eyes, someone who made him feel special for all the wrong reasons.

She placed a hand on his shoulder. "I've seen you training. I don't think you're any less powerful than you were a year ago." He dropped his arms, turning to look at her with his fear filled eyes. "As for being special, you already are. You've lived twenty years longer than any other Obscurial. You're the first to rid yourself of your Obscurus."

"But what if this is how an Obscurial dies?"

Her heart almost stopped beating. She knew as much about Obscurials as she did about Maledictuses. She had never stopped to consider that his life had just as much of a time limit on it as hers (human life) did. She pressed herself into his side, resting her chin on his shoulder. At least they'd live their last days out together.