Chapter 1. The Rally That Killed
"Miss Sallow! Miss Sallow, please listen to me!” The Minister of Magic jogged after the orange-haired witch as she ran down the corridor that housed the Head Auror offices. This particular witch had just been told that a fleet of aurors had been sent to the exact Grindelwald rally that she had advised them to leave well alone unless they wanted to lose many young aurors. Of course, they didn’t listen to her. Being the only female auror had its faults.
“Miss Sallow-”
“What Fawley? What is it ye want to say?" her Irish voice crawled out of her slender throat as she twirled around on the carpet beneath her feet. "How about ‘I am very sorry Florence, I should have listened to ye, now I am going to lose many of my best aurors because I didn’t want to listen to ONE BLOODY WOMAN!’ There is no excuse for it Fawley. Ye made a mistake that I am going to have to try and fix! My three best friends are there Fawley and I am going to save 'em!” She screamed at him, waves crashing around inside her blue-green irises. She turned around and continued running. She wore a black, satin, button-downed dress that reached the middle of her shins. She wasn’t meant to be going into the field today. The fabric, although not fitted, was still tight around her legs and she ran and split up her left leg up to the middle of her thigh.
“Miss Sallow I don’t want you going over there!” He yelled after her, following her into the forest-green auditorium that was lined with fireplaces.
She turned around at the last second inside the fireplace with the powder in her hands. She smirked. “Don't give one. The French Ministry of Magic” Then she was gone.
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She heard the rumbling and felt the heat of the flames before she could see them, the sounds of disapparating flung around her ears as she ran up the steps in the cemetery, appearing next to her close friend Leta, her once neat brown hair now fallen around her shoulder. She had disapparated from the French Ministry and into the cemetery before she even had a chance to catch her breath. They gave each other a knowing look before turning to face the scene before them. The looked over at the people left in the circle. Two faces stood out to her; Theseus and Newt Scamander, but she didn’t know who the others were besides Credence, Grindelwald and his closest followers who disapparated in a tunnel of black smoke. Aurors stood behind Theseus while the silver-haired man spoke with pure evil radiating out from his skin.
“Aurors. Join me in this circle. Pledge your eternal allegiance. Or die. Only here shall you know freedom, only here shall you know yourself.” he sent up the blue flames to her work colleges with a smooth wave of his wand and she heard Theseus shouting at his men to move. She watched as many of her friends turn to ash, their screams becoming silent. “Play by the rules. No cheating children.” More and more of the people she knew fell away from life and into the waiting arms of death as the blue flames slithered around frantically.
Credence struggled against a female friend, their words muted to her ears. She watched Newt shout the name of the young man, practically a child, running towards him with his dammed suitcase in his hand and his wand firing counterspells. She watched on helpless as the young man’s shaven head entered the circle and Newt fall to the floor against the power of the flames.
“Queenie. Queenie, you gotta wake up.” She heard an Americans voice and turned to watch another brown-haired man, who had a face once full of happiness and love, now full of uncertainty, try to control a beautiful, blonde woman. He struggled to keep her in his arms while Grindlewald embraced Credence in the middle of the tomb.
“WALK WITH ME!” the blonde screamed at the man, then she turned and walked into the flames, clutching at herself as a silent scream flew from the depths of her throat before she was fully accepted. She didn't look like she belonged in the atmosphere of that wicked man, her face to bright and her hair to pure. But who really belonged in such a place. The American man looked on in horror.
“Queenie!” A woman, clad in a dark leather coat and short bobbed hair attempted to battle against the blue flames to get to the woman. Florence pondered the relation between the two. Not for long tho, for she had a man to incarcerate if possible.
Florence ran down towards Theseus as Grindelwald increased the intensity of the fire. “Theseus, we need to get out of here or incarcerate that bastard before he destroys the entire city!” she withdrew her own wand from her inside her brassiere.
“Flo- we don’t know how” he yelled back, about to ask her what in the world she was doing there but then, swiftly changing his mind.
More aurors fell around the stone steps, trying to outrun death but failing miserably.
“Mister Scamander! Do you think Dumbledore will mourn for you?”Grindelwald's voice sounded like a whisper amongst the roaring of the flames swirling around their ears, but ut also sounded plain, unimportant, powerful and strong too. Newt appeared in front of Theseus and Florence, and she could hear the curses going off like fireworks inside of his head, ratting him out for the trouble he caused in New York the year before. He shot at the three of them, toppling them over and causing Florence’s back to collide with the stone steps, Theseus at her chest and Newt beside them. They shot back, orange flames rising up over them. She heard Leta’s voice calling out as they used all they could to protect themselves. Theseus’ back was pressed against Florence’s chest as they both directed their right arms above them. The flames stopped at Leta’s command and the three of them promptly got to their feet.
“Leta?” Florence began to confront the claws of the fire in an attempted to get to her dear friend, grunting and moaning as she felt burns litter her fit frame. Her hair had fallen from its orange bun and hung in messy waves like bodies of muggle criminals with rope at their necks. She watched at the purple dress Leta was wearing slipped over the grey stones as she took her steps down, useless in her attempt to reach her. She couldn’t hear Theseus and Newt fight their own ways to the two women, trying to save the last of the auror team.
“This one I believe I know. Leta Lestrange. Despised entirely by wizards, unloved, mistreated. Yet brave. So very brave. Time to come home.” He reached out his disgustingly pale hand to her’s, offering her nothing. She held his hand only for him to turn and extract the horrible thing. She turned to the three of them. The only people who would hold her close no matter what she did.
“I love you.” A simple sentence to say sorry and thank you for their friendship.
She raised her wand at the man before her.
“Go! GO!” Leta shouted at Florence, urging her to get to some type of safety, but she ignored and desperately fought against the flames that were now surrounding her. They locked eyes as Leta's little body became grey confetti. Florence’s voice was growing more hoarse with each shout from her lungs, flinging her wand around only to watch her leave.
“NO! LETA!” she felt broad arms surround her and restrain her arms as she watched the purple dress became tiny flakes of ash that disappeared into the smoke-filled air. She continued to scream out profanities and words of hopelessness as Theseus disapparated the two of them into another section of the cemetery and she slumped down his frame onto the floor. She was too full of sudden lament to even notice the blue hue swirl around the air. Theseus pushed her back and covered her with his body before disapparating. She was confused for a moment as to why she couldn't pull herself together and help out with the fight going on, but by the time she had come to think of such actions, orange danced in the sky above her before silence kissed her ears.
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Florence felt the same jumbled feeling she felt the last time she had sat in the Minister’s private office. Last time she had sat in this plum chair was on November 12th 1918. The day after the war had finished and the day after she had wondered throughout No Man’s Land to perform the funeral tradition of blessing the body in the wizarding world. All that fighting and death, coming to what felt like nothing. She had convinced them to send her out at the beginning of the war, arguing that they needed more aurors and that they had none. She was only twenty tears old and not even an auror, but had exceptional results from Hogwarts and they had no other options. That was when she met the Scamander boys, now her Scamander boys, fighting alongside each other with the muggles. All of them had taken an Unbreakable Vow promising that they would not ever tell anyone that the wizarding community had helped, and it was the same for all countries involved.
“Flossie?” She barely heard Newt in her trance-like state and was unable to reply, her mind mixing the old and new; old and new deaths, old and new memories, old and new emotions. They all sat in a row of plum, velvet armchairs in Fawley’s office as they waited. From Left to right it went Kama, Nagini, Jacob, Tina, Newt Florence and then Theseus. She could feel her boys touching her, trying to get her out of this lapse. She hadn't said anything to anyone accept a "let's go home" to Theseus once they had all gathered together and walked out of the cemetery.
She had been retreating into her own world in her mind for as long as she could remember, questioning everything in her mind and out. But this time it was different. This time felt odd. Normally she questioned the world around her and how she could put it in her writing, for she was a private writer, and normally Theseus and Newt just let her. This time she was inside deeper than she had been for a long time, and the last time it hadn't ended well.
“Flo? Can you hear me?” It was Theseus’ voice now and she could just make out his tall form squatting in front of her and collecting her hands in his through her blurred vision. He held her cheek and stroked the skin above her left eyebrow - a place that always drew her back to reality. She lightly shook her head and blinked before settling her line of sight on Theseus. “Can you hear me Floss?” he asked again, concern coloured his face like a child's drawing. They had dealt with Florence drifting in and out of the world for years now, however, after what had happened many years ago, Theseus and Newt feared that one day they would never find her again.
“Ye-yeah, sorry.” She gave a weak smile before lolling sideways and resting her head on Newt’s shoulder. She didn’t notice the woman beside him, who had her own hand in his, tense and release herself from him. He gave a reassuring look to her and held her long and slender hand again, a conversation going on through their eyes.
“Can you believe that it has been nearly ten years since we last sat in here?” she sighed, watching Theseus sit next to her. "Last time was at the end of the war. When we first got back. Remember?" she asked, her voice a hoarse whisper.
“It’s gone both quick and slow,” Newt admitted, placing his chin in top of her head.
“Since when did you start pretending to be the big brother instead of the little brother?” she removed her head from under his, scrunching up her nose and looking at him curiously before smiling and ruffling his hair and settling his head on her own shoulder. She felt strong with one of their heads under hers rather than hers under theirs. “I’ve told you since the beginnin' of the war, Newt. Your real brother looks after the both of us and your pretend sister looks after you from ye real brother.” she laughed, nudging him slightly.
“I know, I know, leave me be. I'm allowed to look after you too though.” he sighed.
“I’m confused.” came an American voice from further down the row. “You have a sister now?”
Florence had been told the names of everyone with her but she couldn't remember them for the life of her. They all sat in ash-covered clothes, Florence’s left leg fully exposed by the tear in her dress, while everyone else had burn holes and messy hair. Newt had ash streaked across his nose and so she licked the pad of her thumb and began removing it as he explained to Jacob, and the woman beside him, who was glaring at Florence, the nature of their relationship.
“No, Jacob. We met Florence just before we were stationed at the Front during the war. The three of us have looked after each other ever since. She became the middle child of the Scamanders. I am the youngest, I’m thirty, while Flo is thirty-three, therefore the middle sibling. Theseus is the old man at thirty-eight. He stifled a giggle in Florence’s shoulder as Theseus whipped his head around to say something at Newt. She lightly slapped Newt's shoulder, knowing how annoying the rivalry between the two could get. She didn't have the energy to stop a physical fight between the two for the favourite child prize.
"I am their pretend sister," Florence said, nudging Theseus to tell him to quit glaring at his little brother. "When the war started we were assigned 'pals' to look after. I got these two dimwits. Plus I'm Irish." Tina shrunk a little, after finding out the truth, in embarrassment, but quickly gathered herself as the door opened behind them and the meeting began.