Been away from this story for a bit working out which arcs to pursue and which to abandon. Pawns are moving in the shadows as the Election draws near.

Spies and Shadows

Silverfoot watched with undisguised delight as the headmistress gave her last speech in Ilvermorny. Fleur Delance was stepping down. She clapped politely along with Lally Hicks and the rest of the faculty. Oh, she would not take over the post. The board had already nominated a headmaster, who was now on his way up from Texas.

They would keep her on for another year or two given how rare skilled teachers were. Yet there is that need for her to equip as many of her students as possible to survive, if not fight the coming storm. Her knowledge of the dark arts would be used to their advantage.

"Has Tonton Nicky reached out to you recently? Or his British apprentice?"

She gave a pointed nod at Lally's carry-all bag. The dark-skinned witch shook her head. She had no further instructions from Albus Dumbledore since. The snakewood wand was ready. Jenny Graves sent a Badlands buzzard to deliver it to her the night before.

"Has he written recently?" Lally asked. Silverfoot nodded.

"The same discussions without any result." There was little on earth that could break a blood pact. With Albus being so close-lipped about his partner…

Many years before…

"The older Miss Goldstein shows promise, even if she is stubborn… I'd be willing to write her a recommendation… Headmaster?" Professor Silverfoot discreetly nudged the old wizard. A whiskey bottle rolled out from under his heavy robes.

"Oh, sorry… just wool-gathering…" Silent Thunder apologized. His deputy tried to ignore the alcohol fumes coming from him. "What do you make of this?"

Silverfoot studied the dog-eared journal the headmaster handed to her. The page was open to the 'Use of Dragon Blood in Complex Alchemic Transfigurations'. She skimmed through the article, marvelling at the genius of the author – one Albus P.W.B. Dumbledore and co-authored by her Tonton. The author's picture graced the article with the accolade of Young Wizarding Talent of the Year.

"He shows promise, given his youth…"

"There should be two others…" Tears ran down the old wizard's cheeks. Silent Thunder had grown increasingly drunk and maudlin after he received news of his grandson's death, marking Silent Thunder as the last of his wizarding line.

"Had a sister once… but she's long gone…" he slurred. "Three children she had… such promise…"

Silverfoot intercepted the whiskey bottle he Summoned and Vanished it before calling for an equally disgusted pukwudgie to see the inebriated wizard to bed.

"Silverfoot, your wand…" Lally hissed a warning. Snapping back into the present, Silverfoot whipped her wand out of his holster and discharged a surge of magic at the ceiling, sending sparkles and confetti down on the clueless faculty and students in the dining hall.

"You should have Jenny see to your wand, if you do not care for MACUSA wandmaker…" Hicks warned. Her thunderbird feather core was getting restless and dangerously unstable. It chafed at the restrictions placed on it, as she chafed against the rules that bound her. Just a little while longer.

In the end Newt had to beat a hasty retreat to Hong Kong. He was out of supplies and had contracted a high fever. Dougal had led them back to Grandma Willow's. The crone took one look at him and sent for the healer. An emergency portkey was arranged to whisk him off to Hong Kong where he would spend a fortnight being purged of possibly deadly parasites that would have turned his insides into jelly had he delayed any longer in seeking aid.

It was unsettling waking to the sounds of fireworks and firecrackers, and learning it was 1932. The locals. Muggle and magical, were celebrating the Lunar New Year. Once the weather allowed, he would return to Kweilin. Newt spent his time restocking his supplies, which were running low, and writing to Tina. He did not know if her letters would reach him so far from civilization. Someone had written to Old Master Ang about his last-than-glorious return to Hong Kong. The old wizard wrote back, promising him support should he chose to return to Kweilin.

A Portkey could be arranged to the nearest wizarding village, should he accept. There was a risk of course, that he might be followed and inevitably lead others to the beast. Old Master Ang's contact in Hong Kong suggested. They could Portkey partway and trek or sail the rest.

"I'll take the Portkey…"

"Then we will need to make a hop over at Nanking," the Old Master's representative stated. "The Shanghai Office is inaccessible thanks to the fighting."

Hogsmeade

Albus had received Newt's letter with great relief. He was almost certain the young man had been lost to the untamed wilderness of China. The death of the male Qilin was a setback. As was Newt's inability to track down the female and his subsequent illness. The involvement of the Old Masters in Newt's quest disturbed Albus. The Chinese wizards were clannish and considered themselves superior to other wix. Liu Tao's running for Supreme Mugwump was already a break from their traditions. Was Newt being aided or hindered from his goal?

Other than the Wizengamot and ICW, there had always been secretive players behind the scenes – the Monseignuers and Hexenkirche held sway over much of western Europe until the turn of the century. The Council of the Wise – a cooperative between the indigenous and immigrant wix – held power in the Americas. The Old Masters governed much of China and held sway over Chinese migrant wix in other parts of the world.

So far Newt had not been hindered openly in any way. Perhaps the Old Masters wish to him to help them find the Qilin. Albus frowned. He had few dealings with the Chinese wix, or anyone from Asia. Now he hastened to his weekly dinner with Aberforth.

He stepped into the Hog's Head to find his brother staring at the mirror. Aberforth whipped round when he heard the bell. Muttering an apology, he poured some ale for Albus before summoning their dinner from the stove.

"What were you thinking of?" Albus blurted.

"Her… and that summer," Aberforth shrugged. He could have meant the Rosier girl or their poor sister. Conversation dropped off to almost monosyllables after that.

Shanghai 1932

Shanghai was a city that seemed to be constantly on edge. Underneath the calm surface surged dangerous city had dazzled him with its glitz and bright lights. At the same time, it had troubled him. Just a few months ago there had been fighting in the streets not far from their lodgings. Houses were razed to the ground, their blackened timbers still stood. Aurelius just wanted to be away from it.

They were heading back to Kweilin to search for a Qilin. Aurelius packed his meagre belongings. He had managed to slip out with Vinda to fetch supplies. Surly young men huddled smoking in alleyways. Thin, sickly-looking children begging by the roadside. When he gave a bun to a hollow-eyed little girl carrying a younger sibling, Vinda had chided him for being a fool. The pair would likely be dead within the week with those filthy Muggle diseases that came in the aftermath of any conflict.

This is what Grindelwald wanted to prevent – another war worse than the Great Muggle War… Aurelius reminded himself. America has been spared the bombings and actual fighting that ravaged Europe. He had watched the soldiers leaving for Europe. Mother would never allow him to sign up even if he could. The draft had passed him by when he came of age by No-Maj law. When the soldiers who survived returned in 1918 a shadow of their former selves, the dreaded Flu followed in their wake. Peace. No more war, no more hungry children… No more hurting… Aurelius repeated to himself inside. He gasped as a sharp pain shot through him. The smoky shadows were swirling under the surface of his skin. With a soft gasp, he forced himself to breathe through the pain.

He missed his phoenix. The bird's unearthly song always made him feel better, even if just a bit.

Theseus frowned. He had recently been transferred back to the Auror Office, albeit in an administrative role. His companion sat across from him, nonchalantly reading the Gazette. In this crowded café in London, it was too common for him to share a table with a stranger. Yusuf Kama had been flitting in and out of various countries on his family's business after Paris. The Kamas were well-established as merchants since the 17th century and a fixture of many pureblood circles. Yusuf had flown dangerously close to those radicals who espoused the Alliance's goals.

Information was power and currency in such troubled times, but also a source of danger in the wrong hands. Could he trust the wizard? Albus insisted he was on their side. Had things gone differently in Paris, Kama would have been his brother-in-law.

"Monsieur Scamander, if you do not wish to drink your tea, it will be cold. Rest assured it is not spiked," a soft whisper. Theseus had not touched the croissant and tea he had ordered. Yusuf had finished his sandwich was halfway through his coffee when Theseus joined him. Theseus took the cup and sipped. The tea had already cooled to tepidness. It was then that Kama put down his paper, threw on his coat, and called for the bill.

Where was the information he was promised? The Senegalese wizard was gone.

Of course, his time in the Centaur Relations Office must have addled his mind. Kama had left the newspaper behind. Theseus bit into his pastry as he casually picked up the Gazette. It was a Muggle item and had no detectable charms on it. Tucked in it was an envelope that bore an Extension Charm. Theseus fought the temptation to open it there and then.

It could contain the names of Grindelwald's supporters in Europe or the locations of his safehouses. When he touched the flap, he received a teeny warning zing. The information was meant for Dumbledore. It was not his place to pry. He was due to go to Hogwarts for that Auror recruitment talk next week.

Nurmengard

"Are you done with your last will and testament, Gal?" Bedivere grated. He had come down to check on his friend at the guards' request. The prisoner was not touching his food. The guards were worried he might drop dead in Grindelwald's absence.

Without Aurelius' magic about causing accidents and the rest of Grindelwald's acolytes keeping their heads down, there was little to keep Bedivere busy and Galahad amused. Galahad instructed his friend on his final wishes in a half-joking way. Surely the bit about leaving a single knut to be shared by the twins could not be serious. Or the matter of returning Jenny's Sunday knickers…

"Fine, I request that my yacht be left to Hector if the moron has not scuttled it already. The plantation house I leave to the duppies, unless squibby Arthur or the twins want the running of it – long may they haunt the place."

"Galahad Graves, I do not like how this is going…"

"Bee, I have made my peace with Death as a necromancer," Galahad yawned and levitated a book from the stack Queenie had obtained for him from the castle library. The blond witch could charm almost anyone. His magic was back, just enough for some light wandless work.

"They will be back for me soon, Gal…" Bedivere warned.

"Fine, I meant it about the yacht, and the duppies. I leave a sum of two thousand Galleons for the twins, and that same amount for Jenny's schoolhouse."

"Got it…" Bedivere scribbled down the instructions on a piece of paper and handed it to Galahad to sign. "You'll be eating your meals properly now, right?"

"Of course, if they bring some of that borscht and tasty pork knuckles …" He was enveloped in a firm hug. Galahad stayed quiet for a few moments before continuing.

"Bee, you got to let go now… and ask them if they have some of that apfelkuchen or what they call it… Queenie slipped me some the other week…"

They could hear the guard's tread on the steps now. Their time together was almost up.

Author's Notes:

History fact – from January to March 1932, there was fighting in Shanghai between Japanese and Chinese armies. In fact, there were skirmishes as early as 1931 in the northeastern and eastern China. Of course, this means I gotta rewrite to account for placing the characters smack in a warzone. The foreign concessions in the city in the city were largely unscathed. I have Aurelius and comrades holed up in one of these concessions. In fact, there were several low-level skirmishes between the two nations in the early part of the 20th century before WWII broke out with the Japan's invasion of China in 1937.