The journey from Scotland to France took little time when you were Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel. They traveled not by Floo or Portkey, but by older, quieter means—methods known only to those who had spent centuries weaving magic into their very bones. By the time Hogwarts' Great Hall had emptied of breakfast chatter, the Flamels were already striding through the marble halls of the French Ministry of Magic.
The air there was different from Britain's: lighter, touched with incense and the faint hum of enchantments that had been maintained carefully over centuries. Ministers and clerks moved quickly along polished floors, their robes sweeping with the efficiency of a body that prided itself on order. But even here, whispers followed when the Flamels passed.
"Is that—""Nicolas and Perenelle…""Why would they come here in person?"
It was rare enough for the couple to be seen outside their home. To appear at the Ministry together meant only one thing: something important was at stake.
They did not waste time. Within an hour, they sat in a vaulted chamber opposite three senior officials from the Department of Magical Beasts and Bonds. At Perenelle's request, Madame Olympe Maxime herself had joined the meeting, towering above all others, her presence commanding the room even when she sat.
The officials tried for courtesy, though their curiosity betrayed them. "Messieurs, madames," one began, bowing slightly. "It is always an honor to host you. How may France be of service?"
Nicolas folded his hands on the table, his voice calm and steady. "We come on behalf of a boy. A student at Hogwarts. His name is Oliver Night."
The ministers exchanged puzzled glances.
Perenelle leaned forward, her voice sharper. "And on behalf of the phoenix who has chosen him."
That got their attention. Quills stilled over parchment. One official sat straighter.
"Phoenix?" he echoed. "Surely you mean Fawkes, Dumbledore's—"
"No," Nicolas interrupted gently. "Another. A phoenix undocumented in any archive, black-feathered with eyes the color of a clear sky. She came unbidden to the boy. And she has bound herself to him."
Maxime inclined her head. "I have heard the whispers from Hogwarts. I believe what they say is true."
The room stirred.
Perenelle's eyes flashed. "Two days ago, the British Ministry tried to take her from him. They sent Aurors into a school full of children. They failed, of course, but their intent was plain. They will not stop until the boy is stripped of what is his."
One official shifted uncomfortably. "If it is as you say, this is a matter for the British Ministry—"
"No," Perenelle cut in, her tone iron. "It is a matter for all of us. What creature chooses a child freely and shows restraint against those who would harm it? This is not a beast to be caged. This is a bond to be honored. And I will not see that bond destroyed because Cornelius Fudge and Dolores Umbridge cannot abide what they cannot control."
Her words cracked through the chamber like a whip. Even Maxime looked faintly approving.
Nicolas placed a hand gently over hers, tempering fire with steadiness. "France has always prided itself on respecting bonds of magic, however rare. We ask not only that you recognize this phoenix as Oliver's companion, but that you make it law—that she cannot be separated from him without violating our treaties."
The officials exchanged hurried looks. One cleared his throat. "That would mean granting the boy international recognition of ownership—no, of partnership—over a creature yet to be classified."
"Then classify it," Perenelle said coolly. "You have the word of the Flamels, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and Olympe Maxime. What more proof do you require?"
Silence stretched.
Finally, Maxime leaned forward, her deep voice resonant. "France will not stand idle while Britain plays politics with a child. I will add Beauxbatons' support to this petition."
The weight of her name fell like stone. The officials no longer looked uncertain; they looked outmatched.
"We will draft the recognition papers at once," one said quietly.
Nicolas inclined his head. "Good. Do not delay. The boy deserves certainty, not threats hanging over him."
When the meeting ended, the couple lingered with Maxime in the hall.
"You spoke well," the Headmistress said to Nicolas. Then, with a faint smile, to Perenelle: "And you spoke fiercely. You remind me why I never enjoyed being on the opposite side of you."
Perenelle's mouth twitched. "I am less patient when children are involved."
Maxime's gaze softened. "I understand. And this Oliver—you care for him?"
For once, Perenelle did not answer immediately. She exchanged a glance with her husband. Nicolas's eyes carried quiet agreement.
"He is not ours," Perenelle said finally, her tone gentler than before. "But he could be. We see in him a boy the world would overlook, or worse, crush. That will not happen while we still draw breath."
Nicolas added, his voice low, "He is more than a student to us already. Family need not always be bound by blood."
Maxime studied them both, then nodded once. "Then he is fortunate indeed. With you, he will never stand alone."
The couple said their farewells, but the moment lingered. For the first time, they had spoken aloud what had been stirring quietly between them since the night Oliver shared his song in the forest: the sense that the boy was theirs to protect—not as an obligation, but as kin.
By evening, the French Ministry had issued its decision. A parchment was drawn, sealed, and signed: recognition that Nyx, the black phoenix, was legally bound to Oliver Night as his magical companion. Any attempt to separate them would be a violation of international magical law.
The news spread quickly, faster than parchment could dry. By the time the Flamels returned home, the wizarding world was already whispering: France had moved first.
And Britain had been left behind.
News traveled faster than fire. By the next morning, Paris owls carried word to London, and copies of the French Ministry's proclamation were already being whispered about in Diagon Alley. France had recognized Oliver Night's phoenix as a bonded companion. France had made it law.
Cornelius Fudge nearly choked on his morning tea.
But while Britain scrambled, another ripple was already spreading across the Atlantic.
New York, MACUSA Headquarters
The grand building in Lower Manhattan was abuzz even before Newt and Tina arrived. Wizards in sharp robes hurried between offices, memos zooming overhead like swarms of restless birds. The Scamanders cut through it all with calm precision, presenting their invitation letter and the Flamels' introduction at the Department of Magical Creatures.
They were ushered into a long chamber of polished wood and glass, where members of the department sat waiting. Their leader, Madam Evelyn Hardwick, adjusted her spectacles and tapped her wand for order.
"You've traveled far," she said crisply. "State your case."
Newt rose first, his coat as patched as ever but his presence filling the room with quiet authority. "A new phoenix species has revealed itself," he began. "Black plumage, eyes of sky-blue, bonded to a child at Hogwarts. This is not hearsay. I've spoken to the boy. I've seen the bird. It is no beast—it is intelligent, selective, restrained."
He spread his notes across the table, sketches already drawn in his neat hand. "It has displayed deliberate precision in its defense—striking aggressors, sparing innocents. Such behavior is unique, even among phoenixes. This bond is unprecedented in magical history."
Murmurs stirred along the benches.
Newt's voice grew steadier, surer. "If Britain continues to frame this as a danger, they will not only harm the boy, but distort the truth of what this creature is. I ask MACUSA to recognize their bond officially. Not as master and beast—but as partners."
He sat, quill scratching again, but his gaze remained steady.
Tina rose next, her Auror's poise unshaken. "Let me be plain," she said. "This is about more than a phoenix. This is about a child. A child the British Ministry tried to intimidate with Aurors in a school hall. They failed, but they will try again. If MACUSA stays silent, Britain will act without check."
Her gaze swept the room, cool and commanding. "You've all seen what happens when governments decide a child's safety is worth sacrificing for politics. Are we going to stand by while Britain makes the same mistake?"
Hardwick pursed her lips. "You ask us to involve ourselves in Britain's affairs."
"No," Tina countered. "We ask you to recognize truth. A phoenix chose him. That bond is real, and it is his. To deny it would be to deny the phoenix itself. And I don't think MACUSA wants to be on record contradicting both Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel and the greatest magizoologist alive."
Her words struck. Even Newt looked faintly embarrassed at the title, but no one in the chamber argued.
Silence lingered, thick and tense. Then Hardwick inclined her head. "Very well. MACUSA will begin proceedings at once. The boy and his phoenix will be recognized under American magical law as bonded companions."
A ripple of quills scratching on parchment filled the chamber. Stamped seals of approval glowed faintly on official scrolls.
Newt let out a quiet breath. Tina reached for his hand under the table and gave it a squeeze.
The tide was turning.
London, Ministry of Magic
Fudge slammed his hand against his desk hard enough to scatter memos. "France? Now America? This is an outrage!"
Umbridge sat prim and stiff across from him, though even her toadlike face seemed strained. "We must not allow foreign meddling to dictate our policy, Minister. This is still British soil. That bird is ours to contain."
"It isn't ours at all anymore!" Fudge snapped. "Do you not see? They've stolen the narrative. If Scamander has his claws in this, the International Confederation will be sniffing around next. And the Flamels—Merlin help us, the Flamels—" He pressed his palms to his eyes, groaning. "We'll be made a laughingstock."
Other officials muttered uneasily. One suggested retreat. Another whispered about sanctioning Oliver directly.
But the room carried no unity anymore. France's bold step had shaken them. America's backing made them tremble. Britain looked smaller than it had in decades.
And for the first time, Cornelius Fudge felt power slipping through his fingers.
Hogwarts, Dumbledore's Office
Albus Dumbledore listened as Fawkes trilled softly from his perch. News traveled fast to him, too—letters already confirmed France's registration and MACUSA's formal proceedings.
He sat back in his chair, folding his hands. "So the world has noticed."
Fawkes dipped his head, eyes gleaming.
"Good," Dumbledore murmured. "For Oliver's sake. And for hers."
His gaze drifted to the window, where autumn sunlight streaked over the grounds. He thought of Oliver Night—how the boy had stood tall in the Great Hall, how his voice had cut clear even through fear.
"The boy will need every ally," he said softly. "And perhaps… family he never expected."
The Library, Later That Evening
Oliver sat at a long oak table, a stack of books at his elbow. The library was quiet this late, candles flickering in tall sconces, shadows stretching long between shelves.
Nyx perched nearby, her feathers catching the glow of flame, sky-blue eyes following every turn of his page.
He wasn't hiding from the whispers anymore. He simply wanted quiet. But as he read, he realized something strange: the words slid into him differently now.
Whole passages fixed themselves in his mind with barely a glance. He closed one book, whispered a sentence aloud, and found he could repeat it word for word. He picked up another, skimmed two pages, and discovered he could recite them back without error.
His heart quickened. This was more than memory. This was something sharper, deeper—an echo of what he had confessed in Dumbledore's office, now undeniable.
He glanced at Nyx. She tilted her head, as if amused.
"Guess we're stuck with this, huh?" he whispered.
She trilled softly, pressing her beak against the edge of the table.
Oliver leaned back, staring up at the ceiling, his mind racing with possibility. For the first time, he wasn't just afraid of being different. He wondered what he could do with it.