Hello everybody. I upload a lot every day, but that is due to the fact that m Story is huge (about 70 K words or more), because I want my Story to be completed before the Crimes of Grindelwwald Comes out (like I said before). I would appreciate it a lot if you read my Story and leave a Review. Take your time to read the Story and don't rush through it because I uploaded four chapters again. I would just be very happy if there are People out there that like the Story and read it, no matter how many views it has or whatever. If you enjoy it, than I am happy, I will continue to upload as much as I can.

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xoxo Leviosa

Chapter 12

Grindelwald hated thinking too much. But he couldn't help it. Every time he thought about Credence, Ariana died all over again, as if these five words were carved on his heart. These wounds would never heal. It was his fault and only his faut, no one else was responsible for his pain, for everything he did. Especially not Albus. Albus was right, he always followed the right way. There was nothing that could move him in a wrong direction. Not even he, Gellert Grindelwald, could bring him on his side. Dumbledore had learned out of the Ariana incident, he was good again, while Grindelwald just became darker and more willing to sacrifice everything for his vision. He wanted to be like Albus, he wanted to be such a good man, wise, brilliant, on the right way. Instead, he was a wicked, narcissistic dark wizard. As a villain, he shouldn't think these thoughts. He should be confident, self-loving. The face he had shown the world was just a lie — he didn't love himself as much as he loved someone else. A love that teared him apart, a love that would make him give up even his cause. He had seen it in his visions, his dreams, every time he closed his eyes. Again and again, these scars would never fade. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

"Who are you?", the snake girl said. At least Leta thought that she was the snake girl, Yusuf had talked about. "I'm his sister", she whispered. "Credence doesn't have a sister. He's adopted", the girl whispered carefully. She seemed to really care about Credence — more than what Letas father had done. "Wait, I'll ask him", and she went and left Leta, here, in the circus. The whole circus tent was busy — everywhere artists that practiced or rested. This place was so chaotic yet so beautiful. She understood why Credence wanted to live here. Everybody was free — truly free. Knowing that she would never be that free, hurt her, so she tried to not think about it, but it didn't work right now. Credence really looked like on these pictures, she remembered him, she remembered too much. He would remember too, there were too many things they had shared — the nights were they were both crying each other to sleep, telling him stories about the wizarding world, trying to protect him from adoption but it didn't work. It hit her the more, as Credence said: "Who are you?" "It's me. Leta — your sister" "I never had a sister, I am adopted and I don't remember you being one of Mary Lous children" Mary Lou Barebone – the women that had abused him. "No. I am Leta Lestrange, your biological half sister" "Leta?", he said, visibly confused. "Leta!", he whispered, before he smiled.

It clearly had nothing in common with waking up. Everybody around him had forgotten, but Jacob still saw everything. It seemed strange, why did he had these weird dreams about magical birds and creatures that were able to find money? One day, he had enough of it. The day Queenie came into his bakery. It couldn't be a coincidence. It couldn't be, why would he dream about a woman who looked exactly like her, a few days ago? If magic wasn't real, she wouldn't be real either. He wouldn't love her as much as he did, if she was just an illusion. He accepted it all, it had to be the truth. Wizards all existed, just like fantastic beasts and dark magicians did. This world was too huge and too beautiful to not be true. He wanted to be a wizard, every time he thought about it. And now, he was kind of part of this great big world — even though he shouldn't be. Queenie told him everything again, she visited him every day, and he listened. Listening to her, she, who always listened to others. He knew that it was good for her to talk about herself and her feelings. Even if no one else wanted to listen, Jacob loved to listen to her.

Dumbledore didn't look around, he didn't try to get attention. He was nothing more than a shadow in an army of shadows. No one would notice him on his way to Paris. He had invented his deluminator in times of darkness, after Ariana had died. It could lead him to his brother, or in some cases, to Grindelwald. And, of course, it could put lights out. Sometimes, he was too scared to use it. Scared of traveling to the wrong places, meeting Grindelwald instead of Aberforth. But there was only one way to heal Credence and so on catching Grindelwald: traveling to Paris. He had heard from his spies about Credence. Grindelwald would use him to his advances, he couldn't just pass the chance of having a powerful dark force in his army. He would do anything to use Credence, just like he would have used Ariana. And if Credence really had found a way to survive, was this one way to immortality. But Albus knew that Grindelwald didn't care about being immortal, still he was somehow sure that he wanted to use the obscurial for something. The Parisians didn't notice him, no one did. As he arrived at Nicholas Flamels house, he knocked on the door, in a special order. Their sign. Nothing happened. "For Merlins' sake, Nicholas, open the door", a womans voice said, behind the door. "Penny, I am busy right now!" Dumbledore could literally feel the woman rolling her eyes, before she opened the door. In front of him stood a woman, who seemed to be his age (which he knew was definitely false), her black hair was streaked by silver strands. She smiled, as if she had to apologize for her husbands manners. "Perenelle Flamel, my name. And you have to be Professor Dumbledore. You know, my husband has been sitting on that desk a couple of hundred years too long. Great to see you, after all these letters, but what is the reason for your visit? Because of that obscurus healing maybe?" Perenelle was as wise as her husband, possibly smarter. "Not only that, my dear. Grindelwald is going to visit Paris, if he hasn't already arrived."

"Hello?", she said into the darkness. The silence didn't answer. Where was she? And what had happened? Leta couldn't remember anything that had happened after Credence had remembered her. "Who are you? Where am I?", she tried to convince herself that everything was okay. There was no reason for her voice to crack or her heart to beat faster. It was only darkness, and she had darkness known darkness for a long time There would be a way to get out of here. There always was. "You may know me, you may not. I am here and nothing's going to happen to you. We'll just wait for Credence here. He knows me and I believe he is going to be delighted to see me again", a voice said. Leta couldn't detect the location from where it came, she couldn't do anything against anything.. She knew that a spell held her on her place, there was no way to escape, and she didn't even have her wand next to her. She hated herself for it, she shouldn't think like that, she shouldn't use him that way, but she didn't want Theseus to come, nor any other aurors. Leta deeply wished for Newt to save her.

He was lying. He was always lying. Grindelwald didn't wait for Credence. He waited for Newt Scamander to come. Because when Newt was captured somewhere, Albus would rescue him. Dumbledore would clearly save his student from the darkest wizard of all time. And even if not, Newt Scamander still wanted to catch him, defeat him. He couldn't, he never would. Grindelwald couldn't help but want to convince Newt that he had no chance against him. He understood Newt more than he wanted too. But still, he was in his way and everybody who was in his way had to be either on his side or pushed out of the way. He didn't like waiting there, here in the cold, under Paris. Grindelwald hated nothing more than the darkness. The darkness that had taken Ariana, the darkness that had stolen him Dumbledore. The darkness that had failed to help him save everything he ever wanted. There was no way to use dark magic for his advantage, he knew that. He had tried too often, he had lost too much. Every death was a sacrifice for his experiments. He remembered that Leta had made experiments too and that Newt had taken the blame for her. Newt would rather die than let his friends die. What an honorable human. It hit him out of nothing. He wasn't prepared for this, he wasn't prepared for it. He could control it, normally he always could. But the visions didn't ask him, the visions just crashed into his head and flooded his brain. Grindelwald hated being a false seer. He was a liar, but that shouldn't mean that his visions had to be liars too. He was never sure, if some things he saw would really happen. And that was probably the worst. The voices in his head blended into his memories, and he couldn't decide which was real and what was not. I knew you would come. He saw himself, he seemed so old, almost dead, devoured by regret and pain. He was weakened, but he was still strong, strong enough to lie. The pictures in his head and in front of him changed — he saw Albus, older, but still the same. He didn't want to hear the words again, he hated this parts of this vision. A part which he was sure to be real. Gellert couldn't shut it out, he couldn't deny it. Avada Kedavra. Back to himself, an ugly man with pale, almost white skin and red snake a like eyes stared at him. You are lying!
Kill me then, Voldemort! You will not win, you cannot win! The wand will never, ever be yours. He tried not to listen, he tried not to understand the words he was saying, until this moment. It was something new, something he had never heard before. Something new in this endless nightmare. And he realized that he would never change, that some things would never change. Maybe him and Newt really were a like. He would rather die than let someone do harm to Albus Dumbledore. There is so much you don't understand.

Nicholas Flamel worked every day, every hour, every second of his life. Others congratulated him, he had invented the phiolosphers stone. But that wasn't enough for Flamel. He hated seeing the world this broken, the hate and the deaths of other people. He wanted to help them all, but it didn't work. Flamel had the hope that all his problems could be solved through working hard. They never did. He hadn't seen his wife for a hundred years, but he didn't care. He had to help them and if he finished, he would stand up from his desk. Nicholas only read his letters, he didn't communicate with others anymore. He was born for working, for this magic only made for him. They called him a workaholic, but he didn't care about them. None of them had seen so much, too much, and a while ago (about 200 years), the last time he had slept in his real bed, he had thought about not using the stone anymore. He didn't want to see his friends die, he didn't want to see wars and diseases and lives of people failing. He wasn't ready for all the pain. Flamel knew that there were muggles in this world, born to see the pain. Nicholas never possessed the ability to see into peoples life, but over the years, others were just like books to him. But nobody wanted to see their favorite books burn on a pyre. There had to be a way to help them. He had been tired for too long, but his ambition, his target to only stand up when he was finished, was stronger than being tired. He had to save humanity, no one else was able to help them as much as he could. Flamel probably would have sat there for the next hundred years, if Dumbledore didn't arrive. Albus Dumbledore was a strong personality. You could only love or hate him, there was nothing in between. He was brilliant, without any doubt. Dumbledore had the ability to force people to do the things he wanted them to. But not in a bad way. "Nicholas, good to see you, finally! You should stand up and greet your old friend. I have to tell you so much new things", he said. Flamel didn't hesitate, as he stood up. Oh, did walking really feel like this? Dumbledore did things others couldn't. And Nicholas Flamel was thankful to have him as a good friend.