I have been ignoring this fic for a while since my Muse is so done with convoluted period drama.

The Rite of Spring

Odd that such a tiny flower would bring tears to her eye. A single primrose, poking its head out of the stony ground, more a crack between the castle flagstones. Winter's grip was finally waning. Queenie stooped to marvel at the stubborn little plant.

"Queenie! Look!" Tina spun around, robes flying carelessly. She was in her first year. They had snuck out to explore the flower meadows in the woods around Mount Greylock. A broom purloined from the Quidditch team locker and a dip into a hidden glen. Queenie was nervous. The ground seemed so far below as she rode tandem with her sister. There were wild beasts about – wolves, bears, hidebehinds and snallygasters even. Her fears were quickly forgotten when faced with a rainbow-hued carpet of spring blooms.

The flowers of New York never had that much colour. Be it from the smog or the greyness of the city blocks, they always had a faded look to them – even the expensive roses Jacob bought to surprise her with once. She had to cast a stasis charm on them to stop them from wilting, but they were dusty within the week.

Bird song. The feathered ones had returned from their wintering grounds. A shadow passed over her. Queenie looked up startled. Kindly brown eyes peered down at her. Bedivere.

"Sure is fine weather, Ma'am," the healer greeted her with a exaggerated bow. His little serpent hissed in annoyance at the movement. "Lucia and I were just going for a stroll…" he peered over his shoulder at an acolyte. "And gather some ingredients for healing potions…"

Galahad was still confined to his bedchamber, unable to Apparate out of Nurmengard. There was no need for a guard on the healer. Queenie thought grimly as she gave a beaming smile.

"I'll come with you," Queenie took the arm he offered her. Other wixen were also out enjoying the warming weather. The little Prince family were on the terrace, taking coffee with several other guests. Credence was with them, albeit standing a little away from the group. Grindelwald and Vinda were in close discussion in the far corner of the courtyard.

Nurmengard was too high up and rocky for the flower meadows to bloom in earnest, valiant little patches of colour peeked out from between the roots of gnarled pines. Their escort followed silently behind them on their leisurely stroll. They chatted about their lives in back in the States – Macy's parades in New York streets and Madi Gras parties in New Orleans. Now and then, Bedivere would pause and bend to gather some plant from the forest floor. Queenie kept her silence when on one such stop, Lucia slithered off Bedivere's wrist into the undergrowth.

Bedivere watched his brave little serpent take off before pocketing the moon-moss he had gathered. It was a risky gamble. Lucia might chance upon a friendly sibling to pass the word on, or she might be preyed on by a hawk. She had never been to the European alps before. He had fed her bits of egg and meat from his plate throughout winter, but the forest might not offer sufficient prey to sustain her. Well, he could pray for her safe return.

"Sir, might I join you in town the next time…" Aurelius ventured meekly. Grindelwald smiled over his coffee. The boy's tutors have reported improvements in his mastery of his power. He rarely overpowered his Charms now. The boy was still pale and sickly. Perhaps he needed to be out more in the sun. One could barely tell him apart from the Prince boy. The Princes were discussing if they should return Louis to Paris or a warmer climate. The Alpine winter had been hard on the young man. Perhaps he could grant them that boon. The oblivious Louis had been good company in distracting Aurelius from asking questions Grindelwald would rather not answer. Maybe they could allow Aurelius to spend a few weeks outside the castle. The boy needed to act less like a country bumpkin or a servant if he was to travel with him during the elections.

Anton Vogel had contacted him over the winter. The German Minister and Mugwump was willing to overlook some aspects of Grindelwald's past and support his campaign. However, that was far from the commitment Grindelwald had hoped for. At least he need not worry about German Aurors harassing his people in Munich. Perhaps it would be time to allow young Aurelius to join his travels. The boy had a curious mind. He was always pottering about the library or asking questions of Goldstein and the healer. He would prefer that his half-brother not interfere with the boy's education. Grindelwald toyed with the idea of killing Galahad now, but his magic was still too weak, and his sources had not recovered the bones of Galahad's master.

MACUSA was cracking down on his American supporters. Many had fled for Europe, into his fold. The other Miss Goldstein proved to be as tenacious as a bull terrier. He had no doubt that she was further backed by other forces in the shadows – be they the fabled Council of the Wise or the wixen underground who viewed his ideology as damaging to their business interests. Paris had not broken her but tempered that young woman's will into a formidable weapon. Ah well, even if he were to lose the States, he still had pockets of supporters secreted in Latin and South America. Any opponents in the coming elections would hail from there instead of the North Americas. Picquery would not recover from the Obscurus attacks in New York and the Paris Rally. She was the only wix who could have stood for Mugwump.

Spring had hit the city, coaxing hardy wildflowers out from dusty planters and between pavement cracks. The geese and ducks had returned.

"The news on the street is that a Rougarou got Bedivere," Pellinore reported as he fed the ducks in Central Park. "And Gnarlak has Galahad chopped into potion ingredients. No one has twigged that they are not in the States no more."

"How can you tell?" Tina flipped through her book sitting on the bench near Pellinore.

"Kay has contacts in Deutschland from the last war. The local wix there are getting anti-sy. Anti-Semitic, anti-Muggle, whatchamacallit. Bad business… Kay's trying to reconnect. He doesn't have Moggy's class to reach into the genteel classes. Word is that Grindelwald's Alliance has a following there. They got mountains to rival old Greylock. Not sure where he is at with Gal, but he isn't gonna rent some den in Main Street to keep important prisoners in. Nice chatting with you, ma'am," Pellinore emptied his bag of crumbs and strolled off.

Tina sighed. She should have expected the Graves clan would have taken some action of their own. There were reports of suspicious activity in the mountains of Colorado, courtesy of Jenny Graves. Lally confided in Tina over weekend bagels that several of her students had admitted to attending Jenny's Wild Wrens' Wagon Schoolhouse over the past summers. True to form, the enterprise kept just this side of legal. On the upside, No-Maj students were starting off at Ilvermorny with some basic knowledge of the magical community. More worryingly were the known felons – Hector, Kay, and other members of Galahad's crew of bootleggers and moonshine-men. These had faded into the shadows without Galahad's leadership. The West Coast and Midwest Aurors were kept busy trying to shut down that little travelling school. Their ranks already thinned, the East Coast offices were overwhelmed.

Tina had tracked the Encantos' journey through Latin and South Americas by means of a series of postcards delivered by exotic birds – macaws, toucans, and quetzals. Nimue had taken a liking to Tina and was not above dispensing some advice with regards to her love life, or lack of. The couple was last in Argentina where they hoped to settle. Nimue had no wish to give up her fun-loving lifestyle under increased policing by MACUSA in the States. Newt was now in Brazil, so his last letter stated. She prayed for his safety as he journeyed to places even the locals avoided. Who knew what beasts lurked in the jungle depths?

Even among the Aurors, Grindewald had found converts. She still dropped by at Jacob's bakery, but the poor man made to be in the kitchen whenever she called, it would be some fresh-faced assistant who would pack her pastries and count out her change. The pain of losing Queenie was still too raw. Perhaps time would heal the ache, or perhaps not. It was good that he had rallied enough to continue running his business. The Niffler and Demiguise-shaped pastries were back on the shelves to everyone's delight.

Under the veneer of normalcy, there was an undercurrent Tina could not quite place her finger on. Picquery was cracking down hard, determined to weed out all Alliance sympathizers from their ranks. There was something in the frenetic dancing at the speakeasies, as if they were clinging onto that moment in life. Prohibition was still in force. No-Maj crime rates skyrocketed. There was even a petition from worried city wix to use more powerful Shielding Wards to protect themselves and their children against mob bullets. If the visions of horror she had witnessed at the rally… Tina shook her head. Surely there would not be another Great War with the memories of the first still so fresh, but if there was, what manner of weapons would the No-Majs come up with?

Nagini stopped outside a town and fingered few remaining coins in her dress. She had been forced to turn a few times since she left Britain, to hunt for sustenance – livestock from farms and stray animals from towns. Aberforth's friend had offered to set her up with a travelling companion, but she mistrusted the man with his greasy smile and eyes. She took off alone and had been travelling since, seeking word of Credence. In some places, she busked, singing or dancing for coins in market squares. Some places, she found a week's wages filling in at a cotton mill or sewing. She never stayed long.

She had learned something she had to tell Credence. His father was still alive and missed him. He had a home he could return to. Aberforth had been taciturn about his past, until the day before she left. The barkeep had let his guard down. Once he started, the words just came. It was just possible Credence was the son who had been sent off to the States as a baby and somehow been taken in by his cruel foster mother. A thin thread of hope that might convince him to leave that bad wizard. Grindelwald's ideology had found supporters on the Continent. She had seen his flyers distributed in wizarding towns with impunity.

It was an uphill battle. The world was a large and unforgiving place. Credence could be anywhere. Grindelwald had kept out of sight. There were no large rallies after Paris. It was often his underlings who would speak at the meetings in public houses she did attend on occasion. Some days she just felt like giving up. However, she could not afford to do so - letting go of that young man meant giving up a far larger part of herself than she ever imagined.

The Amazon was a revelation to Newt. He had never ventured so far and so deep into its depths. The feel was different from the Congo and Borneo. The primates here were smaller, more graceful, but no less raucous than their larger cousins of the Old World. He stepped cautiously through the foliage. His guide paused, holding up a hand in silent warning.

"Yucamama," the native wizard whispered in awe. Newt watched in amazement as a giant serpent far larger than any he had seen swam lazily in the steaming river water. They were not the only ones there. They had stumbled on a ritual. An ancient witch in multi-hued robes was blowing a conch shell on the opposite bank, barely visible through the steamy air. With her was a small congregation of wix gathered about a regal-looking witch in a simple undyed tunic. The large serpent reared out of the water, forked tongue flickering over the younger witch, who bowed her head humbly. The snake lowered its large head until it was almost resting on the witch's head.

Satisfied, the serpent drew back and sank back into the roiling waters. The older witch turned to the gathered wix.

"The Mother of the Waters have given her blessings. Air, Fire, Earth, and Water have spoken… Go forth…"

Newt and his guide drew back. They were intruders here. The witch's announcement was quickly swallowed up by the thick jungle. The Amazon did have giant serpents, but he would not see how the Yucamama could help Nagini's curse. He wondered if it might be possible to speak to the witch presiding over the ritual if she would allow it. Tribal shamans in the Americas were wary of outsiders, No-Maj and wix alike. They had good reason to be with bloody history of colonization by the Europeans.

Little did Newt know that the witch who had received the Yucamama's blessing would be a familiar face on every wizarding newspaper in a few years' time.

Author's Notes:

Maybe I am planning a reunion between Credence and Nagini, or maybe not.

The Yucamama and other giant anaconda stories have been coming out of the Amazon for ages. There is an actual Boiling River in the Peruvian Amazon, which in local folklore is home to the Yucamama.