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France resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he read through the report. He had been called into his Ministry of Magic to be briefed on some aurors and officials from the UK about their search for Grindlewald. Why they bothered was beyond him; after all, he felt his aurors could handle themselves in this just fine. He could hear Angleterre in his ear already, boasting about wizards and witches even if they had let the murderous criminal escape to America and then couldn’t even keep him captive while transporting him back to Europe.
He would have put some of the blame on America. After all, based on the report, the younger nation had been at the center of the events that transpired in New York. However, due to America’s willful ignorance of magic, he knew the boy would deny anything happening and knew he wouldn’t have even been involved in the transportation. Yes, he knew the nation was pretending to not know anything about magic; many others did too, but whether Angleterre knew this was unknown, and France personally loved to see him frustrated with the apparent obliviousness of his former colony.
Sighing and leaning back in his chair, he kicked his feet onto his desk and stared at the ceiling, thoughts running through his head on how to approach this. The English Ministry members would be arriving later that day, and he was required by his boss, the Minister, to be there to greet them and maybe even take part in whatever crazy scheme they and Angleterre had thought up. He thanked God that Angleterre wouldn’t be among them. Apparently, he was tied up with some shouting match with the other UK nations and wouldn’t be available. It was all probably for the best, the two had a habit of arguing over the most trivial matters, but could you blame France? They’d known each other for centuries and messing with the English nation was one of his favorite pastimes. It was just so easy to get him riled up.
He shook his head. No, it wouldn’t be fair to mess with him in this instance if he did decide to show. They had both been dealing with the consequences of the Great War and the debt that was a result of it, and France had a feeling it was only going to get worse. He also knew that Angleterre was most likely suffering from it all on top of Grindelwald’s murder spree from the year before. Even if the two were enemies in the past, France would be kidding himself if he didn’t consider the bushy-browed man to be one of his oldest friends – I mean, how could he not given how the two put aside their differences for a full 24 hours when they thought the world was going to end in 999?
France chuckled and gave a long, contented sigh. Those were the days, indeed. Perhaps he was turning into an old man, reminiscing on the past like this.
Then the pain. The pain in his chest startled him and he fell over, unable to keep his balance in the position he was in. He clutched his chest and had enough sense to remind himself to breath steadily and deeply. The pain subsided but an intense feeling of foreboding overtook him. He’d been around, seen and been through so much, to recognize the symptoms.
Something big was going to happen, and Paris, his heart, was going to be at the center – at risk.
This couldn’t be a coincidence. No, not with the UK aurors having tracked Grindelwald there and their arrival set for that day.
“Monsieur Bonnefoy?” A knock came from the other side of the office door. It was a man who he recognized worked in the office next to his, Maurice Leroy, if he remembered his name correctly. “Monsieur, are you okay? It sounded like you fell.”
“I’m fine!” France said, a little louder than he meant, getting up. “I just dropped a few books.”
“Okay.” A response finally came. “Just checking.”
When he heard the door next door close, France let out a sigh of relief. Not everyone here was aware of his status or true nature, most just saw him as an advisor to the Minister or a go-between the magical and non-magique governments. How could he begin to explain that he had a mini heart attack and that he wouldn’t need to be seen by a doctor? Not to mention that said pain was being caused by an event that had yet to happen.
He fixed his chair and tidied up his desk as an intern whose name he couldn’t remember in the moment knocked and poked his head in, “Monsieur Bonnefoy? The aurors from the UK have arrived.”
“Yes, tell them I will meet with them shortly.” He replied. He dusted off his plum-colored suit and grabbed his wand from his desk before stepping out into the hallway.
It was in a meeting room that he found his guests and said intern waiting for him.
“Monsieur Bonnefoy, this is the Head Auror to the British Ministry of Magic, Theseus Scamander. Monsieur Scamander, this is Francis Bonnefoy, he is the higher up that the Minister wanted you to meet on this matter.” The intern said, albeit a little nervous.
“Qui, I can take it from here.” Francis nodded and the intern left the room. Theseus looked to Francis who clapped his hands in glee. “Ah, I’ve heard of you Monsieur Scamander, your reputation from your time in the Great War precedes you. I remember reading one of your reports over Arthur’s shoulder once and I must say, you’ve definitely earned your current position.”
Theseus was surprised by this. “Oh? Forgive me, Mr. Bonnefoy, but I wasn’t aware that the Ministry had many on its staff taking part in the war, even here in France.”
“Au contraire, many of the witches and wizards in these great halls took part in the war, largely to counteract the magical forces in the Central Powers. I, myself, am actually one of the officials who goes between the magic and non-magique governments, and I took part in the war effort. Arthur Kirkland, my counterpart for your British Ministry, sang your praises to the point of annoyance.”
Taken aback, Theseus didn’t seem to know how to respond, causing the other man to laugh.
“Fret not, despite my issues with Kirkland, he is, I admit, a wizard who knows what he is talking about when it comes to magic and those who use it. He would not have been so adamant about your talents if it weren’t well deserved.” France reassured him, finally looking to the rest of the party.
One by one, Theseus introduced the few UK aurors, ending with someone who Francis recognized and openly frowned at, cutting Theseus off before he could introduce him.
“Gunnar Grimmson.” France greeted; malice was laced within his words.
“Mr. Bonnefoy, always a pleasure.” Grimmson replied.
“You two know each other?” Theseus looked between them.
“Oui, and I need to ask, Monsieur Scamander, why you have brought a bounty hunter into the French Ministry.” France never once took his eyes off Grimmson, staring the man down with daggers. The French aurors in the room looked at each other nervously. They had never once seen the usually flirtatious and flamboyant man act so serious and for whatever reason, it frightened them. Theseus and his other companions seemed to pick this up.
“He was hired by our Ministry to help in tracking down a young man named Credence, sir.”
“The Obscurial from America? The report says he perished when their aurors open fired on the poor boy.”
“Yes, that was the original assumption, but he was seen around Europe in recent months. I, uh, guess that the report has yet to make it here.”
“That doesn’t explain why he is here.”
“We have reason to believe that Grindelwald is trying to recruit Credence. In that vein, our goals are aligned in a way.” Theseus did his best not to stutter. What kind of history did these two have that could cause the atmosphere in the room to shift in the way that it did?
“It’s all right, Scamander.” Grimmson stated, hints of a sneer forming on his face. “Mr. Bonnefoy here is just holding a grudge for something long in the past.”
“Ten years is not so long ago, and you nearly killed me and others in my squad!”
“They were just some muggles who had no purpose in being there beyond being canon fodder and you all survived.”
“Only because Ivan was there!”
“Oh yes, the Russian. Strange man, loved his sense of humor though.”
“He was threatening you for an hour afterwards.”
“Like I said, great sense of humor.”
A woman – beautiful, Francis took note even in his rage - who wasn’t dressed like the other aurors cleared her throat. “Gentlemen, maybe we could get back on track?”
“Non! I refuse to be in the same room as this chasseur de primes maudit!” France roared.
Theseus sighed, figuring he was going to have his hands full. “Grimmson, why don’t you go back to work. I’m sure you’ll have better luck the second go around.”
“With pleasure.” And with that, Grimmson walked out, only looking back to give a grin to the still angered France.
“I know it’s not my place, but what was that all about?” Theseus turned back to the Frenchman.
“It was during the war. I was commanding a group of Allied troops alongside a man named Ivan Braginski. All of the troops were non-magique, but they were strong in their conviction to stop the Central Powers from advancing. Ivan was the only other wizard there, however he prefers more of a… blunt approach. Honestly, he mainly seems to enjoy using his powers to torment Arthur when he decides to use old forms of magic and to intimidate his opponents while relying on using a metal pipe to fight.” France sighed. “Anyway, Grimmson happened to be hunting a dark wizard in the same area who was on the run from Spain – war time is an opportunity for bounty hunters to get involved in tracking down criminals internationally. We ended up in the same area just as he found his target and, well… Let’s just say we almost lost many great men before we had even reached where the Central Powers’s army was stationed. I had to Obliviate and heal many of them while Ivan did his best to try to freak him out and dissuade him into not getting in our way.”
Those in the room who did not know of the story stared dumbfounded at certain parts of France’s story, but at the same time, they seemed to understand the man’s hatred for the bounty hunter.
France sighed, coming down from his anger and beginning to return to his default personality. “On another note, I don’t think you’ve introduced me to this fine young lady.”
“R-right, this is my fiancé, Leeta Lestrange.”
“Ah, Lestrange. That is not a name I have heard in a while. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am sure Theseus is a lucky man.” France bowed to her politely.
“Thank you, Mr. Bonnefoy.” Leeta said, trying to hide her laughing smile from her fiancé whose cheeks seemed to turn pink.
“If we could get back to business…” Theseus began, and they took their seats at the meeting table. Leeta, meanwhile, stepped out, not wanting to distract.
______________________________________________________________
France and the aurors looked to the door as the same intern from before rushed in, flustered. “Monsieurs, we’ve received word that Grindelwald’s called for a rally.”
“Do we know where?” Theseus asked.
“Non, but we have reason to believe that it’s tonight.”
“Merci, we should start with finding out where, then.” France stood up. He was getting bored of the meeting anyway, they only talked about things he already knew from reading the numerous reports in his office and the only thing of note was the theories that Credence could be the lost son of Corvus Lestrange IV. Sometimes, he admittedly yearned for the days of glamour from before the revolution, or even the days where he’d go off and explore Europe and the New World alongside his fellow nations. Anything, even needing to fight Angleterre when he was a gremlin of a child, was better than sitting in one of his two government offices, only reading and signing papers when he wasn’t in a meeting or being told by his bosses to handle matters humans could handle themselves. Others filed out of the room, and France was about to follow when the intern stopped him.
“Er, Monsieur, you actually have a call. You told me to let you know if this pendant glowed, and well…” He held it up and, sure enough, the red gemstone was giving off a faint glow.
“All right, fine, but afterwards I am getting fresh air, non négociable.“ France said, taking the pendant from the teen.
France exited the room and walked back to his office when he heard the alert system go off.
“Urgence! Urgence! Un sorcier suivi, Newt Scamander, est entré dans le Département de la Magie.”
France groaned, using a hand to rub his temples in an effort to stave off a growing headache. Why did so much have to happen on the same day? He should be working with his non-magique government to deal with the final efforts in rebuilding or even at a club with a pretty girl or handsome guy in his arms, not bustling about in his Ministry of Magic, dealing with reports, confrontations with bounty hunters, talks of pure-blood nationalism, and now Theseus’s rogue of a brother going where he isn’t allowed.
Stepping into his office, he went to a shelf and pulled out a phoenix-embalmed book, opening it and flipping to a page that was glowing just as the pendant, both glows faded as he reached the correct page. “Nicolas, what is it? As much as I enjoy our talks and reminiscing about old times, I honestly can’t seem to get five minutes just to enjoy myself today.”
“Sorry, vieil ami, but I saw something in the crystal ball.” Nicolas Flamel, a man who looked similar to a ghost, appeared in the “photo” on the page. He was an alchemist, and due to his discovery and possession of the Philosopher’s Stone, he had the fortune of living a longer life than even most wizards and witches, enough that he had become one of the few to learn France’s secret of not being human. Admittedly the nation enjoyed having a companion he didn’t have the urge to strangle or wasn’t told by his boss to fight that was this constant.
“And you’re calling me why? That Dumbledore fellow, he told you to call Madame Hicks if you saw anything, correct?”
“Yes, but she told me I have to go.”
“I don’t think this is the time for joking given how we’re in a crisis with that Grindelwald fellow.”
“France, you know I wouldn’t joke. If I’m right, all of Paris will be in danger!” This caught the nation’s attention. Between this and his earlier heart palpitations with the sense of foreboding, it couldn’t have been a coincidence.
“What did you see?”
“Paris in flames, a witch that apparently goes by the name Queenie, Grindelwald, and the Lestrange tomb.”
Okay, yeah, definitely not a coincidence considering, well… Everything.
“I’ll be right over.”
“Pardon?”
“You haven’t seen action for over a century, non? Nicolas, I’ve seen you scuttle around your house. You won’t get anywhere on your own fast enough and you might need backup.” Without waiting for an answer, France closed the book and began his trek out of the Ministry, only to be stopped by the British Head of the Department of Magical Enforcement, Torquil Travers. He’d met Travers before during the Great War, and knew he was at the meeting, having walked in shortly after they began.
“Mr. Bonnefoy, where are you going?”
“Out for some air.”
“Sir, we could use you for the raid on the rally.” Travers insisted. “I’ve read your file- well, the parts that weren’t classified, and I think you’d be an invaluable part of-“
“Oh, qui, about that…” France sighed, figuring he might as well tell someone. “I’ve received word that Grindelwald is most likely going to have his rally somewhere accessed by the Lestrange tomb.” Most pure-blood families had tombs that were enlarged by magic, and if he remembered correctly, Lestrange’s had a central stadium-like room used to host meetings and funerals; the perfect hidden spot for a rally.
“How would you know that?”
“A little birdie told me.”
“Sir?”
“I’m quite fond of birds, actually. I have a few named Pierre, I should introduce you sometimes.” He smiled. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…” As soon as he set foot outside of the Ministry, France disaparated.
______________________________________________________________
France reappeared on the doorstep of a house just as Nicolas opened the door. The sun was setting by this time.
“France.” Nicolas greeted.
“Nicolas, are you ready?”
“Well, you’re already here.” He seemed to shrug in defeat. France held out his arm and Nicolas took it, allowing the nation to disaparate them to just outside the Pere Lachaise Cemetery. He was unsure if there would be any of Grindelwald’s supporters lurking about. While the aurors would probably go straight to the tomb, France wanted to ensure the safety of his friend.
They made their way slowly, largely in part due to the frailty of Nicolas’s body. Night had fallen by the time they reached the Lestrange Mausoleum, and they seemed to have arrived in just the nick of time.
Blue flames erupted from the entrances, magically charged and threatening to burn out of control. Some figures ran from it, some who France recognized. Theseus Scamander and his brother, Newt, a man he recognized as Yusuf Karma, a woman he recognized from the reports on what happened in America named Tina Goldstein, a woman who looked to be of Asian descent, and a stoutly man.
“Together in a circle. Your wand into the earth.” Nicolas commanded, seeing there was no time to lose. He glanced nervously at France who had placed a hand on his chest. The heart palpitations were back and he was using all of his willpower to move through them. The flames swirled into multiple dragons. “Or all Paris will be destroyed.”
The woman and man that France didn’t recognize stayed behind Nicolas as the alchemist instructed those with magical abilities. The brothers would go to one side while Goldstein and Kama would go to the other. Nicolas would stay where he was and France himself would go opposite as the two were more powerful and knowledgeable about what needed to be done. At once, the five disaparated to their desired positions, taking their wands and thrusting them into the ground, casting “Finite”. A circle of heat and orange flames erupted, surrounding the mausoleum and nearby graves.
One of the dragons, sensing that France was doing all he could to not focus on the pain thumping in his chest, turned to him. It seemed to discover that, despite his power, he was the weak link in the circle as it flew toward him in an attempt to break out.
“Oh non, tu ne le feras pas!” He shouted as he put his other hand towards it and the fires of the circle gave chase. Nearby, Newt and Theseus watched in awe. It was rare to see a wizard who could cast magic with no wand needed. Just who was this man?
The six wizards work together to keep the rest of the dragons contained. Nicolas sent the orange flames upward as the blue dragons rose in an effort to escape. But, in the end, the orange flames consumed them, snuffing them out and trapping any that remained within the mausoleum.
As the orange flames vanished, France felt his legs give out on him, but the pain had stopped. Paris had been spared.
He let out an exhausted chuckle as he didn’t care how dirt-stained his suit got or if his shoes were charred. He was alive, his capitol – his heart – was safe and intact.
Still, even with his joy at the worst being avoided, the sense of foreboding was replaced with a different sensation: loss. As he and Nicolas had made their way to the Lestrange Tomb, he had felt the deaths of his aurors, having been nearby. He had also felt the sway of opinions in many toward that of Grindelwald and his pure-blood ideals. France could scoff at that. Once upon a time, before his revolution, he might’ve sided with someone like that. Nowadays, however, he didn’t hold such prejudices.
He was snapped out of his thoughts suddenly. Looking down, he saw a creature he recognized as a Niffler. The poor thing was injured, its fur singed most likely by the flames. But despite its limping and pained expression, it still seemed determined to tug his ring off of his finger.
That’s right, he remembered reading Newt Scamander was a Magizoologist. France scooped the Niffler up with his ring-less hand and made his way to the brothers.
“I believe this is yours?” France held it out to Newt, who looked relieved to see the creature. The Niffler seemed to reciprocate the feeling, the ring entirely forgotten as Newt took it into his arms. The creature was most likely too tired and injured to go off of its natural instincts, the face of his keeper making whatever energy it had left vanish.
Newt reached into the Niffler’s pouch and pulled out a pendant. “Well done, Teddy.”
“What is it?” Tina asked as the others approached.
“It’s a blood oath.” France said, recognizing it. “When one is made, it cannot be broken.”
“I think I know who it belongs to.” Newt said, pocketing it.
All of them were tired, and the group decided to return to the Ministry with the intentions of traveling to Hogwarts in Scotland. France, meanwhile, opted to helping Nicolas back to his home.
The two didn’t say much as the nation got his friend inside before walking off. The foreboding feeling had returned, and France wasn’t sure what was causing it. Unknown to him, other countries who were involved in their magical governments were feeling it too, only for it to retreat by the time France saw the sun rise.
In a meeting over tea with England in the week after, the two would conclude that Grindelwald was most likely the cause. His rally seemed to be a success, and the appearance of aurors, one who caused the death of a girl there, only seemed to bolster them.
But Grindelwald was nowhere to be found. It was like he and his major supporters had vanished off the face of the earth.
Something was coming, and no one knew when or where.