Traces

Claude Otton

Claude smacked his dry lips a little together as he watched one of his kidnapper’s followers pace around them a little hurriedly.

The other man, the director as his kidnapper’s follower had called him, was still out cold, his chest barely rising up and down by now.

He could tell that their guard looked a bit stressed though as he was clambering to pack together some of the stuff that was littered around the warehouse, and by Merlin’s sake the scissors was one of the few items that was chucked unceremoniously into the small sack the man was carrying.

Claude felt his vision blur for a moment and groaned.

He didn’t feel too good.

“Quit groaning, old man. You got yourself into this predicament so you’ve got no rights to play the victim here,” the guard huffed, moving closer to the two of them with a mocking smile.

Claude didn’t respond back at that.

He couldn’t. His throat felt so dry.

And not only because of that, because in a way the man was right. Claude never should have mixed himself in with their shady business in the first place.

Sure, he would have still had debt, but they still would have been happy- and alive, his mind unhelpfully added as he let out another groan.

“Playtime is over now though so perhaps it’s time to discontinue this entertainment and-”, The man glanced over at the director’s body for a short moment, “-experiment,” he finished saying with a bit of a frown on his face.

Claude’s vision blurred again and he felt himself slipping.

He could faintly make out his guard drawing out the scissors from his sack before looking at them a bit thoughtfully.

Claude closed his eyes again. It was only meant for a short moment, but when he woke up again it was to the loud noise of several people apparating in.

Although, Claude was far too out of it to really remember what had happened.

It sounded like people were fighting, but when he closed and opened his eyes again everything was quiet and a mediwizard was in the process of casting a diagnostic spell on him while another one was in the process of floating him onto a stretcher. 

Claude groaned.

He then shut his eyes again from the brightness of the spell, but he must have dozed off again because as soon as he opened them, he was in a healer’s ward and felt much better.

The shopowner took a moment to just take in the room in front of him, his eyes landing on a figure next to him.

His granddaughter too was sleeping next to his bed in a chair, her hair looking a bit frizzy and unkept, and Claude could only silently cry for a couple of moments wondering whether or not he was dreaming.

Because if he was, he didn’t want to wake up.

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Newton “Newt” Scamander

Percival sat on the floor of the healer ward, his head disappointingly tucked in his chest, his figure flimmering for a little moment.

Newt’s heart tugged a little at the sight, and he itched to move over so that he could comfort Percival in some way.

But Percival had requested a little space and as much as it did sting a little, Newt also understood given their current situation.

Beside them the elderly scholar made another attempt at stitching the director’s soul back together. 

Nicolas Flamel sent Newt a bit of an unsure look, to which Newt answered by only nodding and slightly pointing at where Percival was sitting so that the man could try to swing the now scissors turned needle into his soul form again before trying to lightly and gently stitching it in the director’s physical body again.

“I don’t understand…,” the alchemist muttered to himself, looking every part of being confused.

“It says here that I need to thread the soul tug into the body again.” Flamel shook his head again as he once again tried to flip through the book of soul magic again.

Percival let out a sigh, and Newt finally gave up and poured some magic through their connection again.

The pull or the connection as he had taken to calling it was a weird sensation.

Maybe this was how animals with tails felt?

The exception being that it made him feel connected to Percival in way he couldn’t explain.

“Maybe, we should give up,” Percival’s small voice said quietly as he stood up to walk closer to Newt again.

“Percy,” Newt started to say, only to be interrupted by an upset Percival.

“No, Newt. It’s not gonna work. Can’t you see?”

“Percival, we can still try. I’m not giving up on you,” Newt said, grabbing the other man’s hand softly.

He could see that Percival was tired.

“No, but I’m giving up.”

Percival gently moved his hand away from Newt’s, his eyes not wanting to meet his.

“Maybe, it’s what I deserve too.” Newt looked up in shock at seeing the man in front of him smile at the wall with a bitter smile.

“No, Percival. No one deserves this.”

“How could Pecival even think like that?” he thought angrily to himself.

“But I clearly do!” Percival snapped, trying to calm himself down a little as he sent Newt an apologetic look.

“I haven’t done much to live a worthy life in the first place. I… am cold. Too strict. My coworkers hate me, my parents haven’t heard from me in forever and I…” Percival swallowed thickly before moving his gaze to meet Newt’s eyes again.

“And I don’t deserve to live a happy life with you,” he whispered as he had to blink the tears in his eyes away a little.

And Newt had heard enough. Even if they couldn’t help Percival back to his physical body, he did not want to make Percival truly pass away while believing these things.

He felt the connection between them shake a little so he took a deep breath before pouring a little magic into it.

It was difficult to describe how he had done it, but Newt thought he saw something start to shift on the floor a little as he did.

Not that he paid too much attention to that. He had other important things to do first.

“No,” he said, moving to cup the other man’s cheeks to look into them determinedly.

“No?”

“Like, I said, No.” And Newt had to smile a little when seeing Percival’s exasperated look.

“You’ve lived a worthwhile life,” and Newt had to send the other man a bit of a stern gaze when he saw that he started to open his mouth.

“You’ve lived a worthwhile life because you’re worth it. You’re not cold. You can be strict, and that’s only because you care about others.”

Percival’s gaze turned a little soft at that. Although it still looked like he wanted to say something, but Newt didn’t let him.

“Some may feel bitter because of that, but at least they won’t have to be bitter about being dead,” Percival flinched a little at the word “dead”, and Newt felt a slight twinge of regret for having brought up the d-word.

“You may have some regrets about the way you treated others, but that shows that you think about them. Again, that you care.” Newt rubbed his eyes a little furiously, advertising his eyes a little for a moment.

“And if you live, you can do something about these regrets, because..” Newt bit his lips a little, feeling the magic pour out of him and into their connection. He wanted to show Percival how serious he was and somehow sending magic felt natural for him. It was almost like it was out of his control.

“Because your coworkers and friends care about you too. So does your grandma, and your parents, I’m sure,” Newt moved his hand away from the man’s cheek, glancing to see that Percival’s eyes had turned impossibly gentle and touched.

“And then there’s me,” Newt laughed wetly, to which Percival also smiled a bit sadly back at.

“I care about you too. In fact, I love you. I want to spend an eternity with you. Grow old with you. Have you complain about how I’m too careless when it comes to acquiring permits and then exchange sweet sweet kisses with you at the end of the day when you come home from work,” Newt flushed a little, feeling a bit dizzy as he felt himself getting drained.

“So don’t say that you’re not worth it and that you deserve it,” he finished, his voice a mere whisper by now.

Percival looked at him, that same sad look as before, but now it was also a bit happy as well.

He moved to embrace him, inhaling in the scent of the director’s cologne and feeling the warmth of the other man engulf him.

“Thank you, Newt. I’m glad that I met you.”

They stood there in silence for a while, basking in each other’s presence until a cough interrupted them.

“I’m sorry to interrupt this moment of yours, gentlemen..” Flamel’s voice started carefully, his lips twitching a little.

“But I think we just found the answer to our problem,” his finger pointed at something on the ground and Newt almost jumped in shock at seeing the golden like rope laying on the floor between them, one end connected to Percival while the other was connected to Newt.

“H-how?” he let out a startled yelp, feeling Percival also tense a little in confusion around him as he took in the sight before them.

Flamel however was back to mumbling again.

“I can’t believe I didn’t understand this right away. Of course, Sjcheel traad must have meant literally a soul thread, not that I was supposed to thread someone’s soul..” The elderly man moved to bend himself a little, his joints creaking as he picked up the golden like thread in front of them.

He glanced at the body lying on the stretcher behind them before glancing at Newt again.

“Let’s try this again. Although, something tells me that it will work this time.”