The warmth of the sun eventually drove Percival to open his eyes, and he looked up to see Seraphina asleep on the sofa beside him, her head resting on his shoulder, still in yesterday’s outfit. He waved his hand, summoning a bottle of Hartley’s Hangover Cure from his cupboard, and took a sip. Head clearing, he shook Seraphina’s shoulder. “Hey.” He said softly, holding out the purple potion. She reached for it and took a gulp, before using her wand to change her clothing. He walked into the bedroom, letting her change in peace.
His room looked emptier than usual, and the reason for it hit him suddenly. He remembered now, what was happening today. He pulled on his smartest suit, eyes lingering on the monogram of his handkerchief. He wasn’t a Graves any more. He kept the handkerchief though, so he had a reminder as proof of who he had been.
Seraphina was waiting in the doorway, and he picked up his bag and walked to her. She squeezed his hand and then smiled sadly. “Good luck.” “You too.” He murmured, watching as she straightened, her professional expression falling into place like a mask. It wasn’t far to MACUSA, but they apparated in together. They were among the very few who had the privilege to do so – though Percival knew he would be losing that privilege today.
In the entrance hall to MACUSA he could see the British delegation – Theseus Scamander was there, along with three other aurors and the British Minister of Magic. The British were all wearing robes. Seraphina gave his hand one last squeeze, and then walked over to greet them, leaving Percival alone. He headed up to the Major Investigations Department, wanting to ensure that Henery was ready to take over as Director.
As he walked, he could feel the eyes of everyone upon him. He could hear them murmuring among themselves. Only a few weeks ago he had been a prisoner of that madman, and wizarding society had nearly been exposed. Now people looked at him with pity or with anger, not respect.
He walked into Major Investigations, and was startled to find the aurors that he worked with daily standing smartly in a line, as though waiting for inspection. His lips twitched slightly in a smile, and he walked along, greeting each of them, thanking them for their work.
It was Tina who broke rank first, running forwards to wrap her arms around him and hold him tightly. He rested his hands on her back. “It wasn’t your fault.” She said, and Percival nodded, patting her on the shoulder. She leaned into the touch, eyes lit with fire. He knew she felt this was unjust, and there was no way he could soothe her thoughts on the matter. Tina was always just, and there was no justice here. “I know. But I have to make it right. It’s okay Tina.” He paused. “I expect all of you to keep up the good work in my absence.”
There was laughter at that, and the rest of them crowded around, embracing him and shaking his hands. Kathern grinned brightly at him, and pressed a small vial full of vivid blue potion into his hand. “I thought we confiscated that.” Percival asked, staring at her. “We did.” Kathern agreed, pointing towards the vial. “Raid on Sandy Hook Docks. This is one of the weaker aphrodisiacs-“ “I don’t want that.” Percival insisted. “Henery? Make sure she puts that back in the store room.” “Yes sir.” Henery answered, stepping forwards and holding out a lighter, engraved with the MACUSA logo. “From all of us sir.”
Percival turned it over in his hands and smiled a little, nodding and slipping it into his pocket. “Thank you.” He felt Starling move a little too close, something slipping into his pocket, but he didn’t look. Tina held up two cufflinks, each emblazoned with the MACUSA eagle. “Good luck charms sir. Kathern and Starling put protective charms on them.” “Thank you.” Percival swallowed. He knew he wasn’t meant to take magical objects with him, but he couldn’t refuse this gift. He replaced the plain cufflinks he was wearing, slipping them into his pants’ pocket, and placed the new ones on.
“It’s time sir.” Henery said softly, reaching out and shaking Percival’s hand. “It’s been an honour to work with you. I’ll do what I can to take care of the department.” “I’ll read about you in the papers, I’m sure.” Percival promised. “It’s been an honour.”
He walked to the Pentagram Office, his aurors behind him. He stepped inside the large room, relieved that the New York Ghost had agreed a deal with the Daily Prophet to get photographs from the British ceremony. It meant there were no cameras as he stepped forwards to the centre of the room, towards the British delegation.
He recognised the British aurors. Theseus of course, then Bulstrode, Abbott, Nott – the Purebloods were out in force. It made sense he supposed, a chance for the British to show their superiority.
He felt nauseous as he made his way towards the chair where Seraphina was sitting, looking composed and glamorous. He bowed smartly to her, then turned to the British Minister. His hand shook a little as he drew his ebony wand and handed it over. His fingers clenched, and he felt suddenly exposed.
Scamander stepped forwards, using his wand to search for any magical object that Percival had on him. It was the same spell used to search those bound for Azkaban, and Percival wondered if he had left it too late to engineer a change of destination. He felt the slight heat of revealed magic at his wrists and in his pocket – from the cufflinks, the lighter, and from whatever Starling had slipped him. But after a moment Scamander stepped back. “He’s clean.”
Seraphina was speaking, but the blood was pounding too loudly in his ears for him to focus on her words, aware only of his lack of wand. He could do wandless magic, so wasn’t as crippled as most wizards would be in this situation, but he still felt sick, remembering Grindelwald taking his wand and his face, remembering Jauncey. He concentrated on staying on his feet.
“It is time Mister Graves.” One of the British Aurors – Nott, he suspected, from the way the man looked at him in disgust if nothing else – prompted. A six-sided portkey was brought out, and the four British aurors and their Minister put their hands on it. Percival gripped the final side, eyes scanning the room, taking one last look at the office as the air around him swirled and he was swept from America. (Image of the lighter: http://www.toledo-bend.com/VCL/articles/images/LighterHistory_22.JPG )
Fill: Who Pays The Piper (2/?)
“Hey.” He said softly, holding out the purple potion. She reached for it and took a gulp, before using her wand to change her clothing. He walked into the bedroom, letting her change in peace.
His room looked emptier than usual, and the reason for it hit him suddenly. He remembered now, what was happening today. He pulled on his smartest suit, eyes lingering on the monogram of his handkerchief. He wasn’t a Graves any more. He kept the handkerchief though, so he had a reminder as proof of who he had been.
Seraphina was waiting in the doorway, and he picked up his bag and walked to her. She squeezed his hand and then smiled sadly.
“Good luck.”
“You too.” He murmured, watching as she straightened, her professional expression falling into place like a mask. It wasn’t far to MACUSA, but they apparated in together. They were among the very few who had the privilege to do so – though Percival knew he would be losing that privilege today.
In the entrance hall to MACUSA he could see the British delegation – Theseus Scamander was there, along with three other aurors and the British Minister of Magic. The British were all wearing robes. Seraphina gave his hand one last squeeze, and then walked over to greet them, leaving Percival alone. He headed up to the Major Investigations Department, wanting to ensure that Henery was ready to take over as Director.
As he walked, he could feel the eyes of everyone upon him. He could hear them murmuring among themselves. Only a few weeks ago he had been a prisoner of that madman, and wizarding society had nearly been exposed. Now people looked at him with pity or with anger, not respect.
He walked into Major Investigations, and was startled to find the aurors that he worked with daily standing smartly in a line, as though waiting for inspection. His lips twitched slightly in a smile, and he walked along, greeting each of them, thanking them for their work.
It was Tina who broke rank first, running forwards to wrap her arms around him and hold him tightly. He rested his hands on her back.
“It wasn’t your fault.” She said, and Percival nodded, patting her on the shoulder. She leaned into the touch, eyes lit with fire. He knew she felt this was unjust, and there was no way he could soothe her thoughts on the matter. Tina was always just, and there was no justice here.
“I know. But I have to make it right. It’s okay Tina.” He paused. “I expect all of you to keep up the good work in my absence.”
There was laughter at that, and the rest of them crowded around, embracing him and shaking his hands.
Kathern grinned brightly at him, and pressed a small vial full of vivid blue potion into his hand.
“I thought we confiscated that.” Percival asked, staring at her.
“We did.” Kathern agreed, pointing towards the vial. “Raid on Sandy Hook Docks. This is one of the weaker aphrodisiacs-“
“I don’t want that.” Percival insisted. “Henery? Make sure she puts that back in the store room.”
“Yes sir.” Henery answered, stepping forwards and holding out a lighter, engraved with the MACUSA logo. “From all of us sir.”
Percival turned it over in his hands and smiled a little, nodding and slipping it into his pocket.
“Thank you.”
He felt Starling move a little too close, something slipping into his pocket, but he didn’t look. Tina held up two cufflinks, each emblazoned with the MACUSA eagle.
“Good luck charms sir. Kathern and Starling put protective charms on them.”
“Thank you.” Percival swallowed. He knew he wasn’t meant to take magical objects with him, but he couldn’t refuse this gift. He replaced the plain cufflinks he was wearing, slipping them into his pants’ pocket, and placed the new ones on.
“It’s time sir.” Henery said softly, reaching out and shaking Percival’s hand. “It’s been an honour to work with you. I’ll do what I can to take care of the department.”
“I’ll read about you in the papers, I’m sure.” Percival promised. “It’s been an honour.”
He walked to the Pentagram Office, his aurors behind him. He stepped inside the large room, relieved that the New York Ghost had agreed a deal with the Daily Prophet to get photographs from the British ceremony. It meant there were no cameras as he stepped forwards to the centre of the room, towards the British delegation.
He recognised the British aurors. Theseus of course, then Bulstrode, Abbott, Nott – the Purebloods were out in force. It made sense he supposed, a chance for the British to show their superiority.
He felt nauseous as he made his way towards the chair where Seraphina was sitting, looking composed and glamorous. He bowed smartly to her, then turned to the British Minister. His hand shook a little as he drew his ebony wand and handed it over. His fingers clenched, and he felt suddenly exposed.
Scamander stepped forwards, using his wand to search for any magical object that Percival had on him. It was the same spell used to search those bound for Azkaban, and Percival wondered if he had left it too late to engineer a change of destination. He felt the slight heat of revealed magic at his wrists and in his pocket – from the cufflinks, the lighter, and from whatever Starling had slipped him. But after a moment Scamander stepped back.
“He’s clean.”
Seraphina was speaking, but the blood was pounding too loudly in his ears for him to focus on her words, aware only of his lack of wand. He could do wandless magic, so wasn’t as crippled as most wizards would be in this situation, but he still felt sick, remembering Grindelwald taking his wand and his face, remembering Jauncey. He concentrated on staying on his feet.
“It is time Mister Graves.” One of the British Aurors – Nott, he suspected, from the way the man looked at him in disgust if nothing else – prompted. A six-sided portkey was brought out, and the four British aurors and their Minister put their hands on it. Percival gripped the final side, eyes scanning the room, taking one last look at the office as the air around him swirled and he was swept from America.
(Image of the lighter: http://www.toledo-bend.com/VCL/articles/images/LighterHistory_22.JPG )