Warnings of torture and cruelty to animals. Some Gellert-Albus angst.
Of Cafes and Clubs
Bedivere was worried for his snake. Queenie could read his emotions when their eyes met across the breakfast table. It had been two weeks since the serpent left the healer. They had gone on two more walks together since. The snake had not reappeared. The fickle mountain weather threatened squalls and freezing nights. A cold-blooded reptile might freeze to death.
Galahad was slowly recovering. Bedivere was taking more risks, using the blood his friend had drawn from Grindelwald almost a year ago to test the wards on the castle. He had not made any progress. Once Galahad's magic core had healed, his days would be numbered. His friend had even asked him half in jest to Avada Kedavra him and get out before the blood's potency wore out. Queenie chose to ignore the healer's midnight forays or came up with excuses for him when he was spotted where he should not be. Bedivere was kind to both her and Aurelius. It was no hardship for her to plead a headache and that she had requested a Headache cure from the healer.
The guests at the castle started coming as the weather improved. The Princes had left for the more clement France, to Aurelius' sorrow. Louis promised to write. A dozen East European wix came and left in quick succession. A pair of India wizards had engaged Lord Grindelwald in deep discussion for almost three days before leaving. Bedivere had been ordered to dose Galahad with a core-strengthening potion of their making. The healer dared not disobey openly, though he complained to Queenie it was like fattening up a hog for Christmas.
Galahad was a terrible patient. Once he had enough magic, he started Apparating about castle until an irate Grindelwald added anti-Apparition wards to all the rooms and corridors. He even left a finger behind once, which Bedivere had to reattach. If his goal was magical exhaustion, Galahad came dangerously close. Bedivere grumbled that only Gal would attempt suicide in that manner. Then there was that attempt at conjuring a Patronus that ended with Galahad passed out and the normally stoic healer cussing up a storm as he used the last of the Indian wizards' potion to keep his friend on this side of the Veil.
"How is Aurelius doing?" Queenie whispered as she took the empty seat beside Bedivere. She had noted the young wizard was not yet down for breakfast. "With him expending his magic…"
"We are only delaying the inevitable, ma'am," the healer glumly poked at his coffee. "Learning to control his magic and using it does not destroy the Obscurus…"
"Are you expecting owl post, Healer Graves?" Grindelwald smirked as he stepped into the room with Vinda. With them was a kimono-clad witch. In her hands was…
"Lucia!" Bedivere leapt to his feet, knocking his chair over. The poor snake was writhing in agony. The witch threw the snake onto the table.
Her spine was broken. Bedivere snarled. The air seemed to freeze at his words, in a language that made Queenie want to shrink into her chair. Grindelwald did not even flinch as the Curse clashed against the Shield the dark wizard had raised before him and the witch.
"Crucio!" Grindelwald uttered and pointed his wand at the healer once his Curse was spent. Bedivere screamed as the full force of the Cruciatus Curse hit him. The screams were cut off with a Silencing Charm and Grindelwald motioned for the waiting house-elf to serve him and his companion.
"Healer Graves, I would strongly suggest you stick to your healing duties and not test my hospitality any further. There are more things betwixt light and shadow that we are aware of," the dark wizard inclined his head towards the Oriental witch, who accepted his compliment with a demure bow.
"You'll kill him!" Queenie cried out. The stricken healer was still writhing on the floor.
"No one dies from being Crucio-ed, Fraulein Goldstein," Grindelwald sliced the top of his boiled egg. "I suppose we can give him a few more minutes to let the lesson sink in. Don't let this ruin your meal."
It took five minutes before the writhing stopped, even after Grindelwald deigned to lift his Curse. A house-elf Banished the sick where Bedivere had spewed the contents of his stomach. Queenie shoved aside her half-eaten toast. Lucia was still twitching weakly on the tablecloth, her cotton-white mouth gaping weakly.
Bedivere wisely kept out of sight below the tabletop until Grindelwald finished his leisurely breakfast and left the room with Vinda and the rest of his loyal acolytes. Queenie helped him up.
"Sorry, Lucia…" the healer stroked his snake. The injury was irreparable, even with magic. Tears in his eyes, Bedivere took his familiar in his still-shaky hands and deftly snapped her neck to end her misery.
Albus sighed with pleasure as he took a sip of black coffee. He had been allowed leave to attend a conference in the fair city of Paris. To think Gellert had almost burned it to the ground last summer. He had also met with a friend of the Flamels' – Cassandra Vablatsky. Her words still echoed in his mind.
The gold eagle is wearied. Two serpents south and the east will rise to battle over the High Nest. They will be joined by a dark third. The pure child from the east must see into their hearts. Tell me – can the pure beast lie?
The Seer had stared at Albus while she delivered her prophecy. He sensed her words were meant for him. Then she was back to discussing floral teas with Madame Flamel. As always, the words of Seers were vague and open to interpretation. He had toyed with the words repeatedly in his mind.
The High Nest could mean the Eyrie where the Supreme Mugwump elections were held since the office was first formed. It was a poorly kept secret Supreme Mugwump Vogel had been making plans to step down. His symbol was the eagle. There was much talk of a powerful Chinese wizard Liu Tao rising through the ranks in the Chinese Ministry of Magic. Albus guessed another candidate might rise from a southern continent – Africa or Australia. The pure beast could only refer to the legendary Qilin. No sightings had been reported in decades. Perhaps he should reach out to Newt…
"Monsieur, may I?"
Albus looked up to see an olive-skinned witch with raven-black hair. She was dressed in a Muggle ensemble which might have been the height of fashion before the Great Muggle War. She dd not wait for a reply but sat down across from him. She fished out a slim cigarette from her reticule and lit is magically. The stinging smoke wafted into Albus' face and made his cough. What did they use? Stinging Nettles? He sensed the silent casting of a Privacy Charm.
"I am sent by a mutual friend. If you wish to meet him, go to La Purgatorie at eight tonight…" Severine rested a gloved hand on his wrist, her thumb tracing a fresh welt left from the night before. She leaned close to his ear.
"The second message is my own. The Obscurial still lives, tell Aberforth that. Should he desire to speak, we can also arrange that." The witch rose gracefully to her feet.
"W-wait, what's your name?" Albus felt sightly dizzy. Was it the smoke?
"Cher Ami d'Oiseau," she called over her shoulder as she strode to a raven-haired man of slim built who just stepped out of a store. For a heartbeat, Albus thought this was his nephew, but when the wizard turned to face the witch, he saw he was mistaken. The witch offered her arm to the young man and the pair Disapparated, just as another customer from the café suddenly threw down his paper and leapt to his feet with a very British curse.
Ah, so he is still being watched… Albus thought hazily. He had a tail to shake off if he were to meet with Gellert. Cher Ami was a homing pigeon donated by the British to the Americans in the last years of the Great War. The brave bird saw action delivering messages on the battlefields of France.
La Pugatorie was a nightclub with a somewhat notorious reputation, even by the more liberal French standards. If he were to even be seen entering it, the school board might have him dismissed from Hogwarts. Albus stepped out into the streets and strolled leisurely towards Notre Dame Cathedral .
Nox. Out with the streetlamps. He turned a corner and crossed a bridge. Nebulus. Albus chuckled as he Disapparated away to another part of Paris, leaving his confused tail behind alone on the foggy banks of the Seine.
The club did not disappoint in salaciousness. On entry, Albus was greeted by a drunk couple unabashedly copulating in the entryway. He had to literally step over them to pass. A naked house-elf showed him to an empty table. Scantily clad performers cavorted and gyrated on stage. The air was thick with a fug of tobacco laced with something else – illicit potions perhaps? His eyes were immediately drawn to the blond at the next table. Gellert had used a glamour, making himself look younger. Albus still recognized the sardonic twist of the lips he had so worshipped back then. He discreetly cast a Privacy Charm.
"It has been a long while."
"Yes, it has."
"Stop this madness…"
"Is this truly madness? Do you think so?"
"You can still stop…"
"Would you join me then?" A hand on his knee. Albus groaned from the onslaught of memory it invoked. Gellert's skilled fingers…
"We all make mistakes…" he fought to keep his voice steady.
"Was our love a mistake? Is that what you mean?" Gellert growled and dug his fingers into Albus' flesh. He felt the ghostly tugging of the Blood Pact so close to him. He had his share of scars. "What was I to you? A convenient toy to be used and discarded?"
"Please, I didn't mean it that way…"
There were warning shouts. The club was being raided. Aurors were closing in quickly. Albus turned to face Gellert, but he was gone. Their little tete-a-tete had come to an end. Following his example, Albus Disapparated out before any Anti-Appariting wards could be activated.
30th June 1928
Heil Valkyrie
Our Master is going on his Grand Tour of Europe, at least where is he still welcome. Like the mighty Alexander and Napoleon, he seems unstoppable. Has the Council succeeded in putting out the wildfires he has started in the New World? But one must be reminded that Winter hobbled the Grande Armee and an insect brought the Macedonian king low. I have made my offer as requested by the Council. The boy has been grievously hurt and his mind bewitched with half-truths and lies. I have written previously of our Master's plans. What does the Council wish to do with them?
I ask no payment save that La Llorona remains cared for. My promise to the Prince clan has yet to bear fruit. My boy-husband is ailing. City air does not suit him. We will head for the Mediterranean coast soon until the weather turns.
Yours always
La Malinche
P.S. What is the pure beast and the ancient rite of its walk? I regret that I am not schooled in the ways of Old-World Magic.
Silverfoot scrunched up the parchment and threw it into the flames. The Walk of the Qilin – if such a beast were real and not a figment of myth. Was it a ploy by the Chinese? Or had the ICW already reached a decision on this unusual step? The few records of a leader thus chosen were scant in their details. The beast would appear when the Magical World is in crisis. Once more she had to cover for Cortez. Arithmancy was a difficult subject to master and teach, but the Old Man had drilled it into her that as a Monseigneur, she was expected to excel in all her subjects and even master them. She could easily cover for Ancient Runes or Transfiguration.
So, Dona Severina still had her little slave in Ilvermorny's Arithmancy master. Like Silverfoot, she was selective with what information she passed on. The Walk of the Qilin was said to be inviolate. Such a beast was not subject to trickery or compulsions. She picked up another letter – this one from Albus Dumbledore. No doubt seeking advice on that blood pact again. With a snort of disdain, she set it aside to be dealt with later. She had an appointment with two brilliant witches over at Libby's Coffeehouse – Lally Hicks and Tina Goldstein. MACUSA election fever had seized New York and the pair wanted some quiet in the small mountain village on old Greylock. Her former student, Tina would go far. The only question was how far. Even the headmistress could not deny her afternoon tea with a fellow professor and a former student. She would coax Goldstein to be patient, bide her time. Hicks had been working with the likes of Dumbledore and Flamel on more than a scholarly level. The Council has expressed their wish that the collaboration be encouraged.
The Defense Professor checked her garb of a Prussian blue coat and pants, charcoal vest before strapping on her wand holster. The wand tingled with excitement. With a sigh, she transfigured the jar of summer preserves from the Herbology mistress into a vase of lilies to expend the magic.
Pleased, she re-sheathed her wand and headed out.
Author's Notes:
At the end of the day, Grindelwald is still a dark wizard with cruel streak. Bedivere will be toeing the line after this.