Chapter Text
Reina Hohenzollern-Habsburg is in Paris. They are desperate, they a tired, and they are weary. Both of their parents are dead, their uncle is barred from contacting them, two of their siblings are too busy with whatever affairs they must tend too while their eldest brother is dying.
They come with their (kind-of) uncle to Paris to find a seer. One of the best, it is rumored. Better than what they can do with the meager dregs of magic that they have to spare. They need to know the future: their future, their brother’s future, their family’s future. They need to do something, anything, to repair everything in their family.
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Reina and their uncle Gilbert tour the underbelly of Paris; without the help of Fleur or François. It doesn’t make sense to enlist the two for heir help; no longer are their families steadfast friends. In fact, they are quite at odds with each other at this point in time, although they were extremely close once upon a time. But times change, even if—especially if the changes are unwanted. ‘Tis the ways of fate.
The two of them finally make their way into the rally they were looking for. Gilbert hums, gently gripping Reina’s hand and pulling them into a hug.
“Kid, look—we’re probably all fucked and it’s all going to shit—but we’ll still have each other, alright? Keep your friends close. Whatever we see should not deter us from our goals.”
Reina nods, burying their head into the silvernette’s strong chest, weakly muttering out an ‘okey’. Gilbert’s mouth tilts slightly upwards, before nodding at them to go into the rally. Knowing the future could save Wilhelm from his slow death, after all—that is what they are hear to figure out. What the hell is causing the deterioration of the Weimar Republic.
It’s not like Wilhelm would’ve been healthy either way—economic strife will do that to a county—but something was expediting the process, and it was Reina and Gilbert’s job to figure out what it was. Their family couldn’t handle another death so soon, after all. It was imperative they find the source of the decay quickly and cut it off at the root.
Truthfully, Rei never wanted Wilhelm to die. They had no interest in gaining the mantle of nationhood—they had their own hopes and dreams. They drew, and painted, had friends—they weren’t ready to sacrifice all of that just for the people. Anyway, they were only eleven anyway. Still at least seven more years until they were eligible for nationhood. And seven years was practically forever!
Anyway, they hoped they would never get the mantle of nation handed too them. They were just a plain old artist that liked chocolate, they couldn’t be the people!
Reina was snapped out of their mental tirade by Gilbert snapping his fingers in their face.
“Hey! Rei! Snap out of it, we have to listen to this shit…”
Reina nods meekly, embarrassed.
“R-right. Seer. Prophecy. Fate—all of that.”
Gilbert giggled, messing with their hair.
“Yeah, that’s right kid. Just stay on course. We just need the information, then we can skedaddle.”
Reina flinched as the two of them were shushed by the wixen around them. They trembled, nestling closer to their uncle, trying to tune out the loud noises. Reina closed their eyes, trying to calm their breathing. Gilbert smiled, ruffling their hair as they slept curled into the older man’s chest. Seeing any of the family this at peace in these days were rare. He would savor it—he knew that something bad was fast approaching.
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Reina gasped as Gilbert shook them awake, not realizing they fell asleep. They rubbed their neck sheepishly.
“…sorry…” They mumbled, embarrassed. Gilbert chuckled, ruffling their hair.
“No worries, Reirei.”
They both turned back to properly listen to what Grindelwald was saying, when Reina saw it. The visions—planes, bombs, nuclear weapons, genocide, all out war—they gasped, panicking, the sounds around them blurring into static. When Grindelwald called for those who pledge their allegiance to him to enter the fire, Reina didn’t hesitated. They tore past the crowd and into the fire. They didn’t want anyone to die—especially not for them. They couldn’t afford it. They needed to secure peace.
In the chaos, Reina didn’t notice that Gilbert slipped away and ran out of the rally, trying to get as far away from the seer’s prophecies as possible.
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Gilbert ran, he ran through the crowds, the aurors, the commotion. He ran all the way to his damn hotel room. Anything to get out of that god-forsaken rally. And god-forsaken it was, Lady Victory was not on their side. After all he’s done to stay in the graces of Victory—it doesn’t matter. He can’t bear to see his family fall. Not after everything he’s built.
Gilbert stifles a sob as he sinks into a corner of the hotel room, carting a hand through his silvery hair that reached his mid back. He gasped for air, trying to calm himself down. There was nothing he could really do anymore, he rationalized. No way to save all of them.
He stared at his hands, trying to rationalize the decision he was about to make. He couldn’t, but it was what he hand to do. He sighed, adjusting the eyepatch on his right eye. Gilbert had to flee.
Gilbert was shaken out of his stupor by the insistent knocking of a beak on the hotel window. He sighed, putting his hair back into a loose low ponytail as he gets up, opening the window from the owl. He pets the pretty barn owl as he unties the letter, sighing as he reads it.
Dear Dr. Gilbert Zimmermann,
I send this letter to you to ask you of a favor; I would like you to teach both the positions of Muggle Studies and History of Magic at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Your findings about soul magic have made you a renowned scholar even here in Britannia, and with the increased censorship of intellectuals in your home country, we thought your talent could be fully utilized by teaching the next generation. Food and lodging will be provided for, if you find it prudent to accept.
Sincerely,
Headmaster Dippet of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Gilbert’s hands shake as he reads the letter. He takes a deep breath, before sitting down to write a reply. He fishes through his back a bit before finding a suitable piece of paper and his favorite fountain pen to pen a reply.
Dear Headmaster Dippet,
I agree to your terms. I never thought I would have to leave my dear nation, but times are changing. I find nothing for me to refuse your request. I will arrive as soon as possible. I have scare little to pack up—I must leave my family, and I shall not bring many personal items. My family will care for my remaining items in my stead. Again, thank your for this opportunity. I am in your debt.
Sincerely, Dr. Gilbert Zimmermann of the Free State of Prussia
Gilbert gives the barn owl a few more head scratches and a treat, before tying his letter to the owl’s foot and letting them fly back across the English Channel. He can’t go back on his decision now.
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Gilbert packs the necessities—a few of his more scholarly and boring clothes, his cross necklace (although he knows he will scare wear it—lest he be called a fascist), his wedding ring, a few letters and photos, his diary, the travel kit he has for cleaning his wings, his makeup kit, a few of his most precious books (among them the Communist Manifesto), his great black eagle Onyx (in the form of a small fluffball of a chick), his cat Pretzel (who was a light sherbert orange color and extremely dumb), and a few other things.
He left the hotel for Britannia the morning after, leaving mainland Europe to the fate he could not save them from.