It had only been three weeks. Three weeks since Credence had joined forces with the notorious Grindelwald. Three weeks since everything had fallen apart.

He had regretted his decision almost immediately as he realized that the older wizard would be fighting against the only people who had ever shown Credence an ounce of kindness. Tina, who had fought for him to be taken away from his foster mother. Newt, who did everything he could to keep Credence alive. And Nagini. What could he say to justify leaving her? They had agreed that they would run away from the circus together—maybe to London, or America. Whatever happened, they had agreed not to separate.

And he had betrayed them, broken the promises he had made. The knowledge of that betrayal hurt more than anything his foster mother had ever done to him. If there was an opportunity to undo all the damage he had caused, he would take it at any cost. He would do anything to go back and fix what he had done.

Anything.

—

Credence hated pretty much everything about Nurmengard. He enjoyed the mountains, but the people and the drafty castle… not so much. Grindelwald was always shut in his study, and Queenie was always in her room, leaving him alone. Although he did have his baby phoenix, the creature was rather moody and avoided him as much as possible for some reason. Maybe it didn't want to associate with a traitor.

He spent most days outside, exploring the mountains, and had found a tree with an old treehouse still half built inside. He had decided to finish building it and stored his few books and notebook inside. He had purchased the notebooks and some pencils during a trip to the nearest wizarding village with Grindelwald and Queenie on one of the rare occasions when they had ventured out of their rooms.

Which was nice, he had to admit. It left much more time to explore.

The mountains were beautiful, unlike almost anything in New York. Most days he would pack a lunch and explore, or else hide in the treehouse and read or write. He had (secretly) bought a copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them and a beginner's book of spells. The former he used to identify some of the magical creatures in the woods; the latter was for teaching himself some basic spells. He would've asked Grindelwald, but was wary of intruding, and he didn't know Queenie well enough to ask her for help. He was making good headway himself, so he didn't ask anyone else for the most part.

The days were nothing special. Very little happened—until one fateful December morning.

—

The day started out perfectly normally. Credence snuck down to the kitchen, where the cheerful house-elves packed him a backpack full of food and a thermos of cocoa. He grabbed the paper from the front step and tossed it onto the table in the hall just inside. As he walked around the back of the house towards the mountain, however, he was nearly run over by a black coach pulled by skeleton horse things—thestrals, he remembered. Grindelwald waved cheerily at him from the driver's seat.

"Good morning!" the man hollered as the thestrals pulled the coach into the carriage house. He strolled out a few minutes later following a mumbled conversation with whoever was inside. It was almost as if he didn't want anyone to know what was going on.

"Good morning, Mr. Grindelwald."

"Just Grindelwald is fine, son."

"I'm—I'm sorry, Mr.— I mean, Grindelwald," Credence stuttered. The older wizard smiled. "What was going on?" A flicker of annoyance and—possibly anger?— showed on the man's face.

"Oh, nothing. Just an old friend I had some business with." The answer came quickly. Too quickly. Credence nodded, going along with what Grindelwald told him.

"I was going to go explore…" He trailed off.

"Of course!" Grindelwald said. "Have fun. I'll see you later?" Credence nodded, then turned to walk away as the wizard headed inside, a determined look on his face.

What is going on?

—

By the time Credence returned, it was nearly nine and he snuck inside as quickly as possible. He'd had bad experiences in the past with arriving past curfew, which he was not eager to repeat. He tiptoed up the stone steps to his room and shut the door. A fire was roaring in the hearth and none other than Grindelwald was seated in front of it. Credence flinched involuntarily as the man stood up and walked towards him.

"I—I'm sorry I'm so late, I—"

"It's fine," Grindelwald replied. "I simply had a question for you. My assistant sadly passed away a few months ago and I need help with responding to the letters from followers. Would you mind helping with that? Only for an hour or two each day will be sufficient." Credence was puzzled.

"Umm… May I think about it?"

"Of course! I would like a decision by… say the end of the week. That gives you a few days."

"Thank you, sir."

"Of course." He swept out of the room, his cloak swishing behind him, as Credence sat down on the bed. Why does he want me to write letters? He's never had an assistant. Is he busy with something else?

Too tired to contemplate any more, he pulled the blankets over himself and fell asleep.

—

A/N: Thanks for reading! Tell me what you think! Hopefully more shall come soon!

Thermoses were invented in 1892: "Invented in 1892 by Sir James Dewar, a scientist at Oxford University. The 'vacuum flask' was first manufactured for commercial use in 1904, when two German glass blowers formed Thermos GmbH." As this fic takes place in 1927, thermoses were used at this time.