We are moving closer to the events of the 3rd movie and 1932. My estimate is 2 to 3 more chapters before we get baby Qilin. And maybe some insights into the other 2 candidates.

Memories and Dreams

The sunrise in Machu Picchu was indeed a magical sight. Somewhere a flute piped a timeless melody. Vicencia raised her arms, allowing the sun's rays to dye her robe golden. Beside her, her cousin pouted where she sat on a low stone wall. The altitude had been hard on her, given her current state. She rubbed her swollen belly ruefully. She had been warned against the journey.

"Severina, it is beautiful, no?" Vicencia laughed and spun round. "Top of the world… Someday I will see the sunrise from the Eyrie as Leader of the magical world!"

"If the Council will allow it. You're a daughter of the sun… not a warrior…" Or mother of future warriors yet.

"Think you the strength of the Council rests only upon her warriors? Mothers to nurture the future, keep the sacred fires burning, form alliances… guide the people through troubled times…"

"What is the measure of strength then, coz?" Jet black eyes met soft cocoa brown. Alex Rosier had magical prowess. Yet her former schoolmate had allowed herself to be turned into a tool of the Council. She had rebelled against the Monseigneurs, defied her father, set magical Paris ablaze. For nothing. Her sisters dead…

"You ask me this. There are many answers – magic, wisdom. Above all, heart. If the heart is corrupt, all else is dross." Vicencia rested her brow against her cousin's and pressed a hand against her breast.

"Then I must be off, coz – lest I corrupt you. I am a blood mage. By our very nature we are corrupt," Severina pushed her cousin's hand aside and rose to her feet.

"Do you truly believe that, sister?"

Severine stretched and rose from the bed, careful not to rouse her bedfellows. She had not thought back to that morning so long ago until now. The healer had warned her. The next pregnancy could kill her. She had to be careful, stick to a strict regime of herbs and potions. The Prince line needed a child preferably by her husband, who was fast fading. Alois and Benoit could help sire the child, but she must bear it. The brothers were loyal enough, but they were too readily swayed by Grindelwald's vision. There would be war in the Muggle world. Fire raining from the sky. It had been written in the Codices of the Jaguar. Severine had done her part, forming her alliances and network of contacts. Her children should be safe. They would survive, even without knowledge of their mother.

She bit back a curse when the mantel clock chimed nine. She must meet with their host soon. She allowed herself a smile. Galahad Graves will die once the last piece was in place, a fitting vengeance for her daughter. Unlike her sun-blessed cousin, she knew her heart was dark and had been since her youth in Paris with her demimonde mother.

Newt sat in the bow of the boat as they cut upriver through the water, driven by the seasonal winds. Both banks were steep rocky gorges, dotted with gnarled trees on which local monkeys played and birds sang. Whatever slopes were covered with jade-green bamboo.

In a riverside town, he had found an injured wyvern smuggled in from abroad. This he rescued and added to his travelling menagerie. He had set aside enough food to last its residents up to three years, and he was able to resupply along his travels. Most of his creatures he left with Bunty except for those he was intending to release during his journey or required his specialized care. He also kept a nest of breeding occamies for their silver eggs. His good friends Teddy, Pickett and Douglas insisted on coming along on his quest.

Newt bade a fond farewell to the zouwu who had been recuperating in his suitcase since she was rescued in Paris. He had not found a suitable place for her release, until now. He had to sneak out of the camp by night as he had kept the contents of his suitcase secret. The old girl danced about the bamboo forest, glad to be home and free after so long in captivity. It was sad to see her go, but Newt knew it was for the best. He caught glimpses of her through the bamboo for a days afterwards, before they parted ways for what he believed was for good.

The boatman was calling for a stop for the night. His cormorants bobbed and dove in the river, catching their dinner. There was a small crescent of sand, a sheltered nook. Newt had been warned that to continue further would only be possible on foot. The fire was lit. The teapot and cups produced. The tea brewed tasted delicately of the osmanthus flowers the region was famed for. River fish were cleaned and grilled over the flames.

That was when they heard it. A roar, a crashing through the trees. Newt whipped out his wand, as did his guide. They saw it then on a crag overlooking their camp for the night. A male qilin with the telltale antlers. A territorial male, possibly dangerous if he had a female close by. Newt gasped as the beast regarded him with its starry eyes. The qilin huffed and lowered his head with its magnificent rack of antlers…

Another more familiar roar. The zouwu Newt had rescued from Paris was back. The beast circled Newt protectively. Newt faintly heard the stumbling steps of his guide and boatman as he fled through the undergrowth. The zouwu turned at the sound and sniffed the air.

"Easy there, girl…" Newt scratched the zouwu behind the ear to soothe her. "It's alright, sir!" he called out after the fleeing boatman. There was a hesitant reply. Newt hoped it meant their guide was returning. It would be too easy for him to get hopelessly lost without one. When Newt returned his gaze to the crag, he saw that the qilin was gone.

The boatman would only return after the zouwu bounded off into the trees. There was a session of haggling over his fees. The presence of a qilin had changed things. The local guide did not want anything further to do with Newt's quest up the hills, territory claimed by the beast. Ony a young child or a fool could venture into the hills and escape the beast's wrath.

Well, Newton Scamander was that fool.

Aurelius listened to his phoenix sing mournfully as he swooped among the peaks. His first mission for Lord Grindelwald. He was to leave with Vinda and the others to a foreign land at their master. He would be away from his friends Louis and Queenie. Louis and his uncles had taught him much about the magical world. He wanted to do right by his benefactor.

As Percival Graves, he rejected you when he believed you squib… the whisper in the back of his mind refused to be stilled. What are you to him? A protégé? A tool? Shunned and sent away by your own family, why should he treat you any different?

There was darkness in their master. The same darkness Credence saw in Mother. As much as he feared her wrath and suffered her abuse, he craved her approval. Likewise, Lord Grindelwald was a harsh master. Even if he had not raised a wand against Aurelius, he had seen the punishments dealt out to acolytes who proved wanting in loyalty or failed him.

He did not want to fail his lord.

Aurelius had tried to find out more about his family. He knew his father's family had rejected him, what of his mother? Madame Prince had slipped him a hint – suggesting that his wand was the key to his mother's lineage. Vinda finally relented and informed him the wand had come from a dead witch who passed in the 1880s. It had been in the Rosier family since. She was vague about her relationship to the wand's previous owner.

There was little information about the Dumbledores apart from his famous uncle Albus whose works graced the Nurmengard library. Papers in alchemy and Transfigurations. Areas he had no aptitude nor skill for and held little interest for him. His uncle taught in a magical school in Britain. There was nothing about any other surviving family. Perhaps his father was dead?

He did uncover a faded news article about one Percival Dumbledore imprisoned for attacking No-Maj children. He could have been his grandfather. If his grandfather went about attacking children, should he expect his uncle Albus to be any better?

"What you see is not always all there is," Louis Prince smiled as he pressed on a pattern in the chessboard to expose a small drawer hidden in the base. In it nestled a bezoar. My mother feared I would be poisoned by my uncles and hid this. Instead, we both fell ill. She died.

"Did your uncles ever try to harm you?"

"Non, never Tonton Alois and Tonton Benito - I trust them with my life. Here, take it. You might have need of it abroad." Louis extracted the stone, placed it in Aurelius' palm and closed his fingers around it.

The bezoar stone now sat in its little pouch in his coat. If only that stone could cure what ailed him. Aurelius clenched his fists as the obscurus threatened to spill forth. Not now! Deep breaths. Calm down…

Queenie had come over to help him pack rather than turning the chore over to the elves. He did not even know where he was going. Vinda had been close-mouthed about that. There was someone else he needed to speak to. For that, he must wait until Queenie leaves him. He glanced over to the mirror on the wall while Queenie fussed over his long johns. Someday, she would make a good mother.

"Has there been any news of Dumbledore's red-haired dog?" Grindelwald snapped.

There had been sightings of Newt Scamander in Hong Kong and on the Pearl Delta. He had loyal followers or purchased spies there. However, in the smaller towns upriver, new faces would be remarked on. The whispers of Qilin sightings were more common now. Not even the newly appointed Chinese Minister Liu Tao could silence the rumours that flew over mountains and rivers.

"Non, my lord. He was last seen two months ago. Perhaps he has already run afoul of the local beasts or the Miinstry? Our contact in Hanoi will arrange a Portkey," Vinda explained. "An abandoned monastery believed haunted by the locals and avoided for that reason."

"Well done, Vinda. Might I wish you Bon voyage in advance?"

With luck, the magizoologist would have been eaten by the local wildlife, However, Grindelwald seriously doubted that.

In distant Scotland, Albus Dumbledore stumbled into his quarters in the castle after supping with his brother. Aberforth was hiding something. He did not pry too much. Aberforth would never forgive him if he were to intrude into his mind. There was something guarded about him. And that mirror. He had never seen Aberforth clean the mirror until recently. In fact, it was Albus who had convinced his brother to retain that piece of furnishing when they first bought the inn.

Ariana smiled placidly from her portrait throughout his visit. He wished she had been there supping with them. Regret washed over him. If things had been different… Aurelius – the similarly afflicted nephew. Aberforth had not taken the information they had gleaned about his son well. Hicks was relenting. Grindelwald had done something in the States to end her neutrality. The Charms Mistress and Ilvermorny's Keeper of the Keys would throw her lot in with him.

Albus settled before the fireplace in his cosy armchair. He must have dozed off. He was back in Paris, standing on a bridge overlooking the Seine. He was not alone. As he stared at the almost mirror-calm river, he could see standing beside his reflection – Gellert.

"Don't." Albus heard or rather sensed the warning when he almost turned to look. Instead, he continued staring at their reflections. They had stood like this side by side once, two souls against the rest of the world.

"Complex magic this… Not even sure we could get it to work…" the words were forced out as if with great effort.

Yes, they had experimented with all manner of complex magics that summer. They had not even been sure the blood pact would work, but it did. Thus, they bound their fates…

A falling autumn leaf. Albus was suddenly seized by an irrational fear. That the leaf would land on the river's surface and shatter that image of them together…

He grasped wildly for the leaf. He heard Grindelwald's laughter. The same laugh he had when he got a complicated spell right that long ago summer. He was falling, falling…

Albus landed with a thud. He groaned and opened his eyes, conscious of the pact warm against his arm. He rubbed his eyes. Two hours had passed since he got back from Aberforth's. He was holding a card in his hand. Something he was sure had not been there when he sat down.

A date, time, and venue. The card was not signed but Albus had no doubt who sent it.

Could he ever say no to his love? It had been so long since they last met. Too long.

Author's Notes:

I am taking it that the pair of Dumbledore and Grindelwald physically met up in the café scene at some point before he ran for Supreme Mugwump. I would like Newt to return that Zouwu from Circus Arcanus to her native home after rehab, as he did with Frank the Thunderbird.