I am still trying to knit the Fantastic Beasts canon and events with those in Harry Potter.

Auld Lang Syne

It had been a long 1929. Albus had written numerous letters to his various friends and colleagues across the globe. Many were dead ends. The Muggle baker Jacob had dropped all dealings with the magical world, MACUSA's no-fraternization laws notwithstanding. A pity that. Based on Newt's description, he sounded like an interesting character, even for a Muggle.

It had dawned on him that it might be beneficial to have a Muggle or squib on his side against Grindelwald. Poor Gellert would never see that one coming, even as a Seer. Albus knew how Gellert viewed Muggles as inferior and little better than livestock. However, a Muggle or squib would quickly be outed without a functional wand in magical company.

Once snakewood trees had yielded magically charged wood that bore their own aura of magic even without a core or a wix honing it. However, few ancient snakewood trees remained of that calibre thanks to overharvesting for wand wood. Then he had heard the tale of Martha Steward's wand. Part of him was doubtful if Hicks would agree to loan him the wand. Perhaps like Rowena's diadem and Salazar's locket, the artefact had been long lost to time.

Eulalie had been evasive, even for a Keeper of the Keys. At first, she had expressed disbelief in its existence, claiming it was a fairy tale. But in every fairy tale there was a seed of truth. He had threatened to speak with the headmistress Delance. Perhaps they could try harvesting a branch from the ancient tree born from Isolt Sayre's wand? Eulalie said she would check the vaults first. Afterwards, silence.

Newt's responses were sporadic with his constant travelling. One never knew where the young man would fetch up. Civil unrest in the Palestine forced a detour. A bad storm in the Indian Ocean forced a layover in Bombay. The most recent letter had him writing from Hong Kong, seeking passage inland. In the port city, few believed the existence of a Qilin as a creature of flesh and blood. It was a spiritual emissary of the heavens, respected by the Muggle population.

Albus had run into Cassandra Vablatsky again in London while renewing his wireless license at the Ministry a year ago. To be fair, he had knocked her off her feet entirely taking the turn in the stairs at Paddington too quickly. Madam Vablatsky had ended up in St Mungo's with a mild concussion after tumbling down the same ninety steep steps she had climbed up earlier, even with a Cushioning Charm. She had delivered another garbled prophecy that included a laundry list of items he should prepare, breaking up two lovers and a Muggle waving a wand. If the mumbo-jumbo was from the concussion, Albus would have wasted reels of parchment and owl-fees for nothing.

He had selected a book from his family's attic and performed several Charms on it. If they were lacking in anyway, he had faith Hicks would embellish them when she got the book. He had retrieved an old school tie from a long defunct boy's school and embellished it with a gaudy phoenix in gold. Those were the easy ones.

Dear Professor

After much thought, I agree to your request. Please take care of it.

T. Scamander

Albus Dumbledore carefully undid the small pouch tied to the leg of Theseus' owl Orpheus. A locket on a chain tumbled into the palm of his hand. It popped open. A young witch of an olive complexion smiled out at him as her curly hair bobbed in the magical portrait. Leta Lestrange.

Theseus had worn the locket close to his heart since Leta agreed to his proposal. Perhaps this was a step forward for the young man? He had cleaned up his act and was apparently back on track in his Ministry career, almost – House Elf Registration for now. Travers was not ready let him return as an Auror. He had other photos of his late fiancée. Kama had nothing of his sister.

He had run into the Senegalese wizard in London during the summer. The younger wizard was seething with the need for vengeance. He had been cheated of the chance of avenge his parents by fickle Fate that ended the French branch of the Lestrange clan. Going after the recently adopted Dutch-Belgian whatever scion did not sit right. Albus had used the man's contacts in the shadier corners of the French-speaking world to seek information. Yusuf blamed Grindelwald for Leta's death, but his hatred was tempered with guilt over his failure to save his sister.

Guilt. Albus sighed. If he had gone after Gellert then, would it have changed anything? What if they had not sought to run away? Would Gellert and Aberforth have fought? So many chances for things to go another way…

The blood pact throbbed on against his skin, the way it always did when his feelings about Gellert grew conflicted. A Charm of protection perhaps for the pendant, a glamour even. Something powerful enough, yet subtle enough to slip past Grindelwald.

There had been an owl recently. A matchbook from that club in Paris without a letter. The same club where he had encountered Gellert more than a year ago. He did not reply.

31st December 1929, New York

Once more he was spending the yuletide season away from home and family. This time however, he was with his Tina. Newt furtively glanced over to where Tina was nursing a warm cup of cider. Her cheeks were rosy with the cold after an afternoon skating on the pond. Newt chuckled. The last time he was skating in this park was in 1926. Not that he was actually skating, more like sliding about with a Polish baker while trying to catch a confused beast.

He had not planned to be in New York City even. It was mix up in the International Portkey Office back in Hong Kong. The Chinese Ministry were still denying him the permits to travel into the Chinese interior. He had been advised to seek out a Chinese wizard in San Francisco's Chinatown who might be able to assist him. He had accidentally filed the Portkey permit for travel to Chinatown in New York instead. That also meant he had to owl Dumbledore for additional funds again since his unexpected side-trip took him well out of his budget.

Tina had jestingly suggested he post himself and his suitcase across the States to the west coast. After Portkey travel across multiple time zones, he needed a break for his body to get back into its rhythm. He had gone to the bakery to find Jacob's business booming. He kept a Disillusionment Charm on him as Tina had warned him that Jacob was no longer as comfortable about magic after what happened with Queenie. Understandable given he had been subject to love charm. For all such magic feature in Muggle tales, little good ever came of them in the stories. Many wix also frowned on their use.

"I miss Queenie. I do not even know if she's alright now…" Tina confided as she leaned against him. The park benches were covered with a dusting of snow but they both had Warming Charms on them.

"I miss Thee at times, but he does write." Newt grabbed Teddy before he could run after the golden jingle bells on a passing sleigh. Christmas was a time when the poor niffler was dazzled by the sheer volume of twinkling decorations. A shrill squeak forced the pair to look down at Newt's cup of cocoa. Pickett had fallen out of his coat pocket.

"Sorry, Pickett," Newt fished the bowtruckle out of the cocoa.

"How is he coping? Theseus."

"Sober for now, Professor Dumbledore pulled a few strings to get him back in the Ministry. Creatures department but it is a start," Newt cleaned and dried his tiny friend with a spell while Tina distracted Teddy with a chocolate coin wrapped in gold foil.

"Why do you keep calling him Professor?"

"Because he was my professor back in Hogwarts and the best Defence Against the Dark Arts professor ever," Newt explained with his eyes glowing with the same awe in his voice. He always seemed younger than he actually was when he looked that way.

"He sent you off to New York with a thunderbird and undeclared multiple magical beasts in your suitcase. Then Paris… You're not an Auror, Newt. Facing down Dark Wizards is not…"

"I said he was the best DADA teacher ever," Newt sipped his cocoa.

"Oh, I beg to differ. Ilvermorny's got the best Defense professor…" Tina replied. Professor Silverfoot was a harsh taskmistress, but her goal was to ensure that no graduate of her class ended up eaten by a snallygaster or dead from some rogue curse. Those aspiring to be Aurors were singled out for additional training in duelling, Curse detection and breaking. Her mentor's lessons had served her well as an Auror.

Trust no one and question everything.

Silverfoot had made it abundantly clear that they were expected to think for themselves, question, assess the situation. There was one assignment where they were dispatched to retrieve a Wampus Cat from the woods in a team of four. There had been no hide or spoor of a Wampus. Their professor had Stunned Mike Littlefoot when he wandered off to empty his bladder, Polyjuiced herself to the meek-looking student and rejoined the remaining three, Stunning them in turn over a two-hour period. Then there were the rumours Silverfoot had been a dark wix or a Greycloak.

"Your professor Stunned you?" Newt asked in amazement when she related that incident.

"She was faster drawing her wand," Tina shrugged. "Some idiot in the third year class asked her what a Crucio feels like. She gave him a demonstration with a modified Stinging or Burning Hex. Headmaster Thunder lived up to his name while we had actual Aurors crawling all over the school. The headmaster had to file multiple petitions to keep her out of the Tombs. We had a replacement teacher for a month. Most boring DADA ever."

Nurmengard

"What next, Bee?"

"Early to bed and no alcohol, Gal."

"Not even mulled wine?"

If Bedivere were to be honest, months of captivity was taking a toll on them both. Galahad tried to keep their spirits up, but he was flagging. They were not allowed to leave their accommodations for more than an hour a day for exercise, and then under heavy guard. Queenie tried to be nice. She slipped them some Christmas pudding after Christmas dinner, with a flask of mulled cider. She left books, mostly No-Maj English fiction. Galahad found A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court a hoot. After exhausting the Adventures of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, they moved onto Moby Dick and Jules Verne.

Galahad's magic was still shaky. Bedivere was less willing to run risks now. He liked Queenie and would hate for her to get into trouble. As a healer, he was sometimes summoned to attend to injuries among the acolytes. Sometimes, Vinda – the dark-haired witch, would loan him the use of her wand. Not that it helped much. Her wand was not suited to healing. He had more luck with Queenie's. Requests for his wand were denied even if someone was dying of a deadly curse.

Yet something had changed in the castle's wards. A chink in the stone. At first, he thought it was Severine and her native magics, but the Princes were in Florence now. Someone was communicating with the outside. There was tinge of the blood magic favoured by Severine, but she rarely if ever left the channel open or anchored thus to a location. She always played a dangerous game…

When it first started, he had thought his room haunted. Next, he had thought it a peculiarity of mirrors in the wizarding world. Now, he was not sure. After their first exchange appeared in the mirror, he saw that the writing would only appear if he initiated it. The conversations were a little stilted, but Aurelius felt oddly safe writing to the mirror. He knew about secrets and how to keep them. He had kept many for his foster siblings in the Second Salemer Church. A treasured button from a long dead mother, stolen apples under the bed…

The mirror was friendly, as far as friendly went. It had asked if he was eating and sleeping well. It had advised him to avoid Vinda and to be watchful about Grindelwald when Aurelius let slip that they were teaching him to use his magic. Not to be trusted… The words were sometimes misspelled. Sometimes it took a while for the mirror to reply. He would like to share the mirror with Miss Queenie, but the mirror warned him not to.

Do not tell.

Aberforth's heart ached. The poor boy must be so lonely to trust a mirror so readily. Yet he could not allow him to put himself in further danger by letting out their secret. A battered magical dictionary sat under his bar, a gift from his elder brother. It helped him to read the words and find the correct letters sooner. He just needed to form the shapes. Once he had sketched three stick figures – Him, Polly and their son - on the mirror but received no reply. Perhaps his son was away from his room. Anything written in the mirror would fade within minutes. A necessary safeguard against discovery.

Author's Notes:

A bit of a time jump from the last chapter as I cannot figure out the motivations of the Eulalie Hicks for her participation in that entire series of events in Fantastic Beasts. Yes, she has some connection to Dumbledore and Flamel via the phoenix book, but she was not a student of Dumebledore's. Grindelwald was active in Europe building up his support base during this period after he left the Americas. Jacob wants to get Queenie back. Yusuf wants to avenge his sister. The Scamanders are loyal to their former professor and Bunty's loyal to Newt. Lally's the only one without any obvious motivation, so far.