When Percival Graves was found it would have been easier to list how many parts of his body were not bruised and/or broken than the ones that were. The healers recommended he be on bed rest for at least six weeks to ensure a full recovery.
He had Seraphina bringing him paperwork within the first week and had escaped the hospital and was back at his desk by the third. It was a good thing too, because the backlog caused by the Grindelwald/Scamander fiasco was enormous. It turned out that raining an untested potion over an entire city had less than perfect results, and so people were being pulled from their regular departments to help put out the figurative and sometimes literal fires all over New York. It also seemed like the entire Wand Permit Office had gone on vacation while he was being impersonated, and if he ever discovered who had destroyed the lock on his office door his was going to have them fired.
***
Gnarlak sat smugly across the interrogation table from aurors Prescott and Clarkson.
“I got nothing to fear from you two.”
Prescott made on exaggerated motion to look over the file in front of him.
“Smuggling and distribution of bootleg alcohol, aiding and abetting known criminals, and the release of a class XXX creature on an untrained populous. That’s going to get you some serious time on the rock.”
“I’ll beat it even without your deal. It’s all over the underbelly of this city that your head guy’s gone soft. If you guys can get taken for a ride by Grindelwald for months you’re no threat to the rest of us.”
The aurors decided taking a break was a better option than slamming him through a wall and went out into the hallway, Clarkson offering a cigarette that Prescott declined.
“He does have a point,” Clarkson said, lighting up.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean crimes in the city are up 30% and we all know it’s Graves’ fault. We’re supposed to be the force that intimidates people to stay on the straight and narrow. How the hell are we supposed to do that when our own boss is a patsy? Everyone always totted about how great he was, how skilled, how we should all work to be just like he is. But he goes up against Grindelwald and that high and mighty barbarian doesn’t end up a smear on the sidewalk? Please, Graves isn’t half the man he thinks he is, if he ever was.”
“Yeah, and you know maybe if he wasn’t such a bluenose one of us would have noticed he’d been replaced.”
“Is there something you wish to discuss with me, gentlemen?”
Both men spun around to see Graves, with a steely glare leveled at both of them.
Re: Graves and Grindelwald - Victim Blaming - fill 1/?
He had Seraphina bringing him paperwork within the first week and had escaped the hospital and was back at his desk by the third. It was a good thing too, because the backlog caused by the Grindelwald/Scamander fiasco was enormous. It turned out that raining an untested potion over an entire city had less than perfect results, and so people were being pulled from their regular departments to help put out the figurative and sometimes literal fires all over New York. It also seemed like the entire Wand Permit Office had gone on vacation while he was being impersonated, and if he ever discovered who had destroyed the lock on his office door his was going to have them fired.
***
Gnarlak sat smugly across the interrogation table from aurors Prescott and Clarkson.
“I got nothing to fear from you two.”
Prescott made on exaggerated motion to look over the file in front of him.
“Smuggling and distribution of bootleg alcohol, aiding and abetting known criminals, and the release of a class XXX creature on an untrained populous. That’s going to get you some serious time on the rock.”
“I’ll beat it even without your deal. It’s all over the underbelly of this city that your head guy’s gone soft. If you guys can get taken for a ride by Grindelwald for months you’re no threat to the rest of us.”
The aurors decided taking a break was a better option than slamming him through a wall and went out into the hallway, Clarkson offering a cigarette that Prescott declined.
“He does have a point,” Clarkson said, lighting up.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean crimes in the city are up 30% and we all know it’s Graves’ fault. We’re supposed to be the force that intimidates people to stay on the straight and narrow. How the hell are we supposed to do that when our own boss is a patsy? Everyone always totted about how great he was, how skilled, how we should all work to be just like he is. But he goes up against Grindelwald and that high and mighty barbarian doesn’t end up a smear on the sidewalk? Please, Graves isn’t half the man he thinks he is, if he ever was.”
“Yeah, and you know maybe if he wasn’t such a bluenose one of us would have noticed he’d been replaced.”
“Is there something you wish to discuss with me, gentlemen?”
Both men spun around to see Graves, with a steely glare leveled at both of them.
“No, Sir.”
“Then get back to work.”
“Yes, Sir.”