His Beast - Part II

Nicolas Flamel

Jacob's POV

I woke up to the sound of a baby crying. Amy had seemingly finished her nap.

I sighed. "C'mere cutie," I mumbled softly, picking her up.

I bounced Amy softly, shushing her. "Mommy and Daddy will be back soon," I said.

Amy seemed to calm.

"Okay . . . I got this," I said to myself.

As I turned around with Amy in my arms to sit back in my armchair, a pale figure greeted me. He was ancient looking with his slender hands clasped together in front of him.

I gulped. "Are you a ghost?" I ventured.

"No, no. I'm alive," the stranger reassured me. "But I'm an alchemist and therefore, immortal."

"You don't look a day over three seventy-five," I joked nervously. "I'm sorry that we didn't knock."

"Oh, no matter. Albus told me some friends might be dropping by." He extended a hand. "Nicolas Flamel."

I shifted Amy to one side to better shake his hand. "Jacob Kowalski," I said.

Flamel moved furthur into the house towards a table of odd knick-knacks and glass things. He stopped at a crystal ball with swirling lights inside. "At last, we see some development," he said peering into it.

"I've seen one of these before," I said. "It was at the fair. There was this dame there and she had a veil and I gave her a nickle and she told me about my future. And . . . she missed out on quite a bit actually."

As I peered into the crystal ball, two figures appeared. A man and a woman walking side by side.

"Hey, wait, that's the kid. That's Creedence," I realized.

The image changed. "Hey! That's Queenie, there she is. Hi, baby!" I yelled into the little ball. "Where is this? Is this here?"

"Yes, this is the Lestrange tomb. It lies in the cemetary of Père Lachaise," Flamel explained.

"I'm coming, baby! Stay right there!" I said.

Then I realized I still had Amy in my arms. "Uh, are you able to watch Amelia a minute?" I asked Flamel. "She's really well-behaved."

"I suppose I—"

"Thank you, Mr. Flamel," I said, passing Amy to him. "Oh, and—" I looked over to where the man whose parasite problem Newt had fixed had been resting. He was gone. "Nevermind! I'm sorry I gotta go!" and with that I was out the door.

~~~

Flamel's POV

The small child—Amelia, Mr. Kowalski said her name was—was quite heavy for me.

"Can you walk yet?" I asked her, lowering her to the ground. She attemped to pull at my hair on the way down.

Still, Amelia stood on her own reached up for my hand.

Her grip was much less painful that Mr. Kowalski's.

I watched as the crystal ball changed once more. Scenes of wizards and witches watching Grindelwald fling deadly spells crossed the surface.

I moved over to my closet, Amelia still gripping my hand as we went, and pulled out a large book. I turned through the pages furiously until I found the one I needed.

"What's happening?" asked the photograph.

"Exactly what he said would happen," I explained. "Grindelwald rallies at the cemetary tonight and there will be death."

"Then you gotta go," answered the portrait.

"What? I haven't seen action in two hundred years!"

"Flamel, you can do this. We believe in you."

I closed the book.

"Okay, dear. Let's get ready," I said softly to Amelia.

~~~

Newt's POV

"Lumos," Jeanne uttered as we entered the archives.

She looked beautiful in the light that I just couldnt help myself. "You know your eyes really are—"

"Are what?" she asked softly as if not to disturb the files.

"I'm not supposed to say."

The little ball of light went off to find the Lestrange section.

I produced a clipping of newspaper I kept in my pocket.

"It's just a picture of you from the paper . . . see it's interesting because your eyes in newsprint . . . but in reality they have this effect to them, Jeanne. It's like fire in water, dark water. And I've only ever seen that . . . I've only ever seen that in s . . ."

I couldn't get past an s sound.

Jeanne's eyes softened. "Salamanders," she realized.