I'm trying to be better about posting, but I also fail. orz Also this chapter has a lot of not-Newt, because the way the MACUSA was portrayed in the movie kinda bugged me. Because I'm a pedant, and I am made of fail. But at least we're getting closer to movie-time? orz
------
Seraphina Picquery is a picture of serenity while she watches her cabinet members file into the meeting room and take their place at the table. (Hers is a serenity perfected out of necessity- an African American woman has very little choice if she wants to make it through an average week among the non-magical.) There are briefing papers at each cabinet member’s place, plus one for the addition of Percival Graves. The middle of the table is almost entirely covered by a map.
Seraphina sits as far back in her chair as she is able. Her elbow rests on the arm of her chair and one long-fingered hand frames her cheek and chin. “Good morning,” she says, “Mr. Graves will be joining us today as we will be discussing several points concerning his department. Secretary Harmal, your report.”
Secretary of War Juanita Harmal is an Auror and cursebreaker of 40 years experience who is an imposing woman even with her short stature and softly gray hair. Though there have been some calls to remove the position from her cabinet as America is no longer at war, Seraphina has resisted. She doesn’t yet believe that the peace achieved after the Great War will last- certainly not among the non-magical. She doesn’t want to be caught off guard again.
“Madam President,” Juanita starts, turning to the others, “In two weeks’ time, on December 7th, MACUSA will host our international allies to discuss the threat posed by Grindelwald and his followers to wizarding kind. Reports have been coming fast and freely, and we are unprepared to meet such a threat if the numbers, in fact, are true.”
“Who is confirmed to attend so far?” asks Randall Suess, Secretary of Domestic Affairs.
“France and the British Empire have confirmed delegates from their countries and all major colonies. It has not been confirmed, but we believe the British have recently lost secure contact with their embassies in China. We will have delegates from Russia and the East African Alliance. All representatives of the American states will be present,” Juanita says, looking over her dossier, “We have not received a reply from the Germanic states or Italy.”
Seraphina turns back to her map. The surface of it is marked by colored points, which correspond with their collected information on Grindelwald's last known whereabouts, his followers, the new cabals of wizards aligning themselves with dark magic popping up across the globe. Red points represent verified incidents but are dwarfed by green, which are unconfirmed. Six black points stand out amongst the others: there is 1 pin in France, 4 across the USSR, and 3 in Germany- the only confirmed sightings of Grindlewald since the end of the Great War.
“Secretary Elkhair, if you please,” Seraphina murmurs, “Where do we stand on activity abroad?”
The Secretary of the Magical State, Thomas Elkhair, looks at up at her with fathomless dark eyes. “We have received several new but single-source reports of wizards attacking the non-magical. If all reports are true the uprisings are believed to be directly related to the workings of Grindelwald's followers.”
Seraphina waves her free hand at the map on her desk. “Show us.”
Elkhair waves his wand at the map and a swath of new, green points spring up across it, covering parts of Africa and several Asian countries, and crowding into Germany, Austria, and Poland. They all cover places of violence related to current non-magical struggles between governments and empires and the people.
“These locations are aggregated from the new reports,” Elkhair says, “Unfortunately, as you can see, these reports come from currently contentious regions. We could be seeing Grindelwald's supporters torturing non-magical people. However, we know that the non-magical created new inventions of death during the Great War- the likes of which we have never seen- and it could just be continuing fallout of that. We have not yet received any confirmations or denials from our fellow wizarding governments. If these are indeed incidents of dark wizards it could be that they are too embarrassed to confirm them.”
Seraphina does not let herself frown. Embarrassed, perhaps, or they are simply unwilling to speak to America. There is almost too much information when it comes to the rise of Grindelwald's influence and the new prevalence of dark magic. So much of it can’t be corroborated through MACUSA’s Auror operatives overseas. If previously friendly and trusted international contacts holding their hands back, there is something else behind this.
“Luckily none of these have yet reached our shores,” Seraphina says, “More disturbing is a lack of veracity. Graves- why are we not receiving verified information from our own international operatives? Has there been a breakdown in your department?”
Graves sits back in his chair and steeples his fingers in front of his face. He’s had a new hairstyle for a few days now- the result of his head and hair being badly singed during a scuffle with a wizard resisting arrest. His hair is now closely shaved around the sides and the back but retains its previous length on top. It suits him, she supposes, though she’s not quite sure she’s in favor of it.
“Of course not, Madam President,” he says steadily.
Seraphina drops her hand from her face and taps her fingers on the arm of her chair. “Then you should have no problems in rectifying this. Two weeks of this silence without explanation is too long. You have a month to fix this, or I will appoint a separate commission.” Did Graves just narrow his eyes at her? It’s such a quick movement that Seraphina can’t be sure. She chooses to ignore it. “Where do we stand with the investigation into the attacks on New York?”
“We have no solid leads, but it must be some sort of creature,” Graves says, sitting upright. “Unfortunately, that means we have very little reference at our disposal. The creature is attacking what seem to be random points. We have found nothing to link the attacks, so for the moment we are comfortable in ruling out the idea that a wizard is directing them personally.”
Seraphina nods slowly. Graves hit upon this pet theory of a magical beast about a week ago. She agrees that a creature does seem to fit the bill, if only because she now has a special place on her desk reserved for reports on the damage caused. Nobody is any closer to giving her a viable solution- or even a different general theory- about what is actually attacking New York that she feels comfortable accepting. But Graves’s negative evidence is not proof of a positive.
“Madam President?”
She looks over and raises an eyebrow. Randall Suess, Secretary of Domestic Affairs, leans forward and rests his forearms on the table, hands clasped loosely.
“I believe we need to talk to the press. The non-magical citizens are worried for their safety. The magical community is doubly worried because of that Second Salem group. News coming out of the south and out west is that tensions are rising- some are convinced that these attacks are the result of experiments in dark magic gone wrong. They’re creating bunkers in the event that these attacks reach them.”
Seraphina frowns. Trust rumor to take hold and conspiracy theories to flourish. “Speak to the next Ghost reporter to calls. Talking points: We are following up on the attacks and whether they might not be caused by faulty non-magical inventions- exploding gas pipes, that sort of thing. It’s common enough. There have been no deaths, magical or non-magical, so we feel comfortable taking our time to ascertain all facts. We have full confidence that the best Aurors in MACUSA will be able to present a solution.”
“And the international meeting?”
Seraphina nods, “We have called on our allies to share their intelligence on Grindelwald and his followers so we can formulate a plan of defense should their influence reach our shores, as well as ensure that our secrecy is preserved. I will be addressing the people following the meeting to keep them informed.”
The Secretary’s quill scribbles her words on a piece of parchment as she speaks them. Seraphina looks at her cabinet; Elkhair, Graves, Suess, and Secretary of the Treasury Gladys Tierney. She stands from her chair and places her hands flatly on the table, leaning forward.
“Let us not bring a magical creature to the public attention just yet. Not until we know what we’re truly facing. The investigations into the attacks must take priority over any other domestic cases.”
+
After so many months of constant travel in cramped trains, caravans, and cars, going by steamship is something of a luxury. (Muggles have indeed come up with some ingenious things to compensate for their lack of magic.) No matter how luxurious, even as Newt steps aboard the steamship from Bata to New York, he’s thinking of ways he can hide himself to keep his contracted fiancée from finding him. At least when he goes through Muggle customs he ought to have an easy time passing. The ‘muggle worthy’ setting hasn’t failed him yet.
Newt takes his cabin in second class. He’s scrimped and saved, done odd jobs, bartered and negotiated for a year with all the various Muggle monies he’s had to change at borders and keep safe from pickpockets. If he’s going to potentially face the man he’s supposed to marry, Newt figures he owes himself space to himself.
He opens the cabin window, then sets his suitcase on the little dresser and pokes his head in, angling in the direction of the open shack door. Dougal is rooting around the feed bins, putting together the morning feed for the occamies.
“Dougal, we’re aboard and the coast is clear. I’m going to have a look around.”
The demiguise waves a hand up at Newt and trundles out to the occamy nest.
Newt goes back to the window and breathes in the sea air. There’s a bit of time yet before the ship is set to sail, but when Newt is traveling by sea, he likes to get acclimated with the ships before they leave the harbor. Newt locks the cabin door behind him and wards it against nifflers escaping, curious Muggles, and attempts at clairvoyance. With his wand tucked up in his sleeve, he heads out onto the ship decks.
“Good morning, sir,” says a cheerful crewman as Newt emerges into the daylight.
Newt jumps and clutches his heart. “Oh. Yes. Good, ah, good morning.”
“Terribly sorry, sir,” he says, “I’m the ship’s purser. The crew is just making sure everyone knows there will be a safety demonstration in about ten minutes’ time.”
“Yes, of course,” Newt murmurs, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, sir.”
Newt leaves the purser and meanders slowly along the deck, nodding absently at other passengers who are clearly exploring their new, if temporary, accommodations. His head swirls with conflicting thoughts. He’s made up a cover story for his being in New York should he require it- he hopes that nobody will notice him or care enough to ask for his story, but if he is asked to explain his visit, Newt figures that looking for an Appaloosa Puffskein is harmless enough.
Newt takes a seat on an empty bench and looks off into the skyline of Bata.
Even in the winter months, Africa has been warm and full of brilliant color and Newt breathes in deeply as though he can capture that color in himself. He doesn’t know much of New York save that it looks cold and gray in every photograph he’s ever seen, regardless of the season.
“Newspaper, sir?” a male voice asks behind him.
Newt’s entire body tenses so tightly his shoulders are almost to his ears and his hands claw at nothing. It takes all his will to breathe evenly when he turns to see who’s come up behind him. It’s an African man, probably the porter, holding a stack of newspapers. On the top rests a copy of the Daily Prophet International. Newt stays frozen, eyes darting up to and away from the man’s face and he immediately makes to turn himself away.
The porter merely smiles pleasantly. “Sir? A newspaper?”
“Ah. Yes,” Newt says slowly, “Well. I don’t have- that is- I haven’t any currency with me at the moment.”
“No matter, sir,” the porter says, “Prepaid service for year-long travelers.”
Theseus. Newt tries to keep his face neutral, “And how are year-long travelers kept track of?”
“Sometimes worried brothers have an office in the right place,” says the porter.
Newt forces himself to unfolds and a smile crosses his face unbidden. He reaches to take the paper from the wizard. “Thank you. How much are you required to report back?”
“Just receipt, sir,” says the wizard. He touches the brim of his hat. “If that’s all.”
Newt is already looking at the paper as the wizard Apparates away with a pop. The main story headline decries violence done by Grindelwald's supporters. Smaller headlines speak of a sudden lack of confirmed sightings of Grindlewald after a final rally he’d held in Germany.
There’s a letter wrapped in the folds of the newspaper. Newt hurries back to his cabin.
FILL [10/?]: Newt/other, eventual Gramander; arranged marriage, past abuse, h/c, learning to trust
------
Seraphina Picquery is a picture of serenity while she watches her cabinet members file into the meeting room and take their place at the table. (Hers is a serenity perfected out of necessity- an African American woman has very little choice if she wants to make it through an average week among the non-magical.) There are briefing papers at each cabinet member’s place, plus one for the addition of Percival Graves. The middle of the table is almost entirely covered by a map.
Seraphina sits as far back in her chair as she is able. Her elbow rests on the arm of her chair and one long-fingered hand frames her cheek and chin. “Good morning,” she says, “Mr. Graves will be joining us today as we will be discussing several points concerning his department. Secretary Harmal, your report.”
Secretary of War Juanita Harmal is an Auror and cursebreaker of 40 years experience who is an imposing woman even with her short stature and softly gray hair. Though there have been some calls to remove the position from her cabinet as America is no longer at war, Seraphina has resisted. She doesn’t yet believe that the peace achieved after the Great War will last- certainly not among the non-magical. She doesn’t want to be caught off guard again.
“Madam President,” Juanita starts, turning to the others, “In two weeks’ time, on December 7th, MACUSA will host our international allies to discuss the threat posed by Grindelwald and his followers to wizarding kind. Reports have been coming fast and freely, and we are unprepared to meet such a threat if the numbers, in fact, are true.”
“Who is confirmed to attend so far?” asks Randall Suess, Secretary of Domestic Affairs.
“France and the British Empire have confirmed delegates from their countries and all major colonies. It has not been confirmed, but we believe the British have recently lost secure contact with their embassies in China. We will have delegates from Russia and the East African Alliance. All representatives of the American states will be present,” Juanita says, looking over her dossier, “We have not received a reply from the Germanic states or Italy.”
Seraphina turns back to her map. The surface of it is marked by colored points, which correspond with their collected information on Grindelwald's last known whereabouts, his followers, the new cabals of wizards aligning themselves with dark magic popping up across the globe. Red points represent verified incidents but are dwarfed by green, which are unconfirmed. Six black points stand out amongst the others: there is 1 pin in France, 4 across the USSR, and 3 in Germany- the only confirmed sightings of Grindlewald since the end of the Great War.
“Secretary Elkhair, if you please,” Seraphina murmurs, “Where do we stand on activity abroad?”
The Secretary of the Magical State, Thomas Elkhair, looks at up at her with fathomless dark eyes. “We have received several new but single-source reports of wizards attacking the non-magical. If all reports are true the uprisings are believed to be directly related to the workings of Grindelwald's followers.”
Seraphina waves her free hand at the map on her desk. “Show us.”
Elkhair waves his wand at the map and a swath of new, green points spring up across it, covering parts of Africa and several Asian countries, and crowding into Germany, Austria, and Poland. They all cover places of violence related to current non-magical struggles between governments and empires and the people.
“These locations are aggregated from the new reports,” Elkhair says, “Unfortunately, as you can see, these reports come from currently contentious regions. We could be seeing Grindelwald's supporters torturing non-magical people. However, we know that the non-magical created new inventions of death during the Great War- the likes of which we have never seen- and it could just be continuing fallout of that. We have not yet received any confirmations or denials from our fellow wizarding governments. If these are indeed incidents of dark wizards it could be that they are too embarrassed to confirm them.”
Seraphina does not let herself frown. Embarrassed, perhaps, or they are simply unwilling to speak to America. There is almost too much information when it comes to the rise of Grindelwald's influence and the new prevalence of dark magic. So much of it can’t be corroborated through MACUSA’s Auror operatives overseas. If previously friendly and trusted international contacts holding their hands back, there is something else behind this.
“Luckily none of these have yet reached our shores,” Seraphina says, “More disturbing is a lack of veracity. Graves- why are we not receiving verified information from our own international operatives? Has there been a breakdown in your department?”
Graves sits back in his chair and steeples his fingers in front of his face. He’s had a new hairstyle for a few days now- the result of his head and hair being badly singed during a scuffle with a wizard resisting arrest. His hair is now closely shaved around the sides and the back but retains its previous length on top. It suits him, she supposes, though she’s not quite sure she’s in favor of it.
“Of course not, Madam President,” he says steadily.
Seraphina drops her hand from her face and taps her fingers on the arm of her chair. “Then you should have no problems in rectifying this. Two weeks of this silence without explanation is too long. You have a month to fix this, or I will appoint a separate commission.” Did Graves just narrow his eyes at her? It’s such a quick movement that Seraphina can’t be sure. She chooses to ignore it. “Where do we stand with the investigation into the attacks on New York?”
“We have no solid leads, but it must be some sort of creature,” Graves says, sitting upright. “Unfortunately, that means we have very little reference at our disposal. The creature is attacking what seem to be random points. We have found nothing to link the attacks, so for the moment we are comfortable in ruling out the idea that a wizard is directing them personally.”
Seraphina nods slowly. Graves hit upon this pet theory of a magical beast about a week ago. She agrees that a creature does seem to fit the bill, if only because she now has a special place on her desk reserved for reports on the damage caused. Nobody is any closer to giving her a viable solution- or even a different general theory- about what is actually attacking New York that she feels comfortable accepting. But Graves’s negative evidence is not proof of a positive.
“Madam President?”
She looks over and raises an eyebrow. Randall Suess, Secretary of Domestic Affairs, leans forward and rests his forearms on the table, hands clasped loosely.
“I believe we need to talk to the press. The non-magical citizens are worried for their safety. The magical community is doubly worried because of that Second Salem group. News coming out of the south and out west is that tensions are rising- some are convinced that these attacks are the result of experiments in dark magic gone wrong. They’re creating bunkers in the event that these attacks reach them.”
Seraphina frowns. Trust rumor to take hold and conspiracy theories to flourish. “Speak to the next Ghost reporter to calls. Talking points: We are following up on the attacks and whether they might not be caused by faulty non-magical inventions- exploding gas pipes, that sort of thing. It’s common enough. There have been no deaths, magical or non-magical, so we feel comfortable taking our time to ascertain all facts. We have full confidence that the best Aurors in MACUSA will be able to present a solution.”
“And the international meeting?”
Seraphina nods, “We have called on our allies to share their intelligence on Grindelwald and his followers so we can formulate a plan of defense should their influence reach our shores, as well as ensure that our secrecy is preserved. I will be addressing the people following the meeting to keep them informed.”
The Secretary’s quill scribbles her words on a piece of parchment as she speaks them. Seraphina looks at her cabinet; Elkhair, Graves, Suess, and Secretary of the Treasury Gladys Tierney. She stands from her chair and places her hands flatly on the table, leaning forward.
“Let us not bring a magical creature to the public attention just yet. Not until we know what we’re truly facing. The investigations into the attacks must take priority over any other domestic cases.”
+
After so many months of constant travel in cramped trains, caravans, and cars, going by steamship is something of a luxury. (Muggles have indeed come up with some ingenious things to compensate for their lack of magic.) No matter how luxurious, even as Newt steps aboard the steamship from Bata to New York, he’s thinking of ways he can hide himself to keep his contracted fiancée from finding him. At least when he goes through Muggle customs he ought to have an easy time passing. The ‘muggle worthy’ setting hasn’t failed him yet.
Newt takes his cabin in second class. He’s scrimped and saved, done odd jobs, bartered and negotiated for a year with all the various Muggle monies he’s had to change at borders and keep safe from pickpockets. If he’s going to potentially face the man he’s supposed to marry, Newt figures he owes himself space to himself.
He opens the cabin window, then sets his suitcase on the little dresser and pokes his head in, angling in the direction of the open shack door. Dougal is rooting around the feed bins, putting together the morning feed for the occamies.
“Dougal, we’re aboard and the coast is clear. I’m going to have a look around.”
The demiguise waves a hand up at Newt and trundles out to the occamy nest.
Newt goes back to the window and breathes in the sea air. There’s a bit of time yet before the ship is set to sail, but when Newt is traveling by sea, he likes to get acclimated with the ships before they leave the harbor. Newt locks the cabin door behind him and wards it against nifflers escaping, curious Muggles, and attempts at clairvoyance. With his wand tucked up in his sleeve, he heads out onto the ship decks.
“Good morning, sir,” says a cheerful crewman as Newt emerges into the daylight.
Newt jumps and clutches his heart. “Oh. Yes. Good, ah, good morning.”
“Terribly sorry, sir,” he says, “I’m the ship’s purser. The crew is just making sure everyone knows there will be a safety demonstration in about ten minutes’ time.”
“Yes, of course,” Newt murmurs, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, sir.”
Newt leaves the purser and meanders slowly along the deck, nodding absently at other passengers who are clearly exploring their new, if temporary, accommodations. His head swirls with conflicting thoughts. He’s made up a cover story for his being in New York should he require it- he hopes that nobody will notice him or care enough to ask for his story, but if he is asked to explain his visit, Newt figures that looking for an Appaloosa Puffskein is harmless enough.
Newt takes a seat on an empty bench and looks off into the skyline of Bata.
Even in the winter months, Africa has been warm and full of brilliant color and Newt breathes in deeply as though he can capture that color in himself. He doesn’t know much of New York save that it looks cold and gray in every photograph he’s ever seen, regardless of the season.
“Newspaper, sir?” a male voice asks behind him.
Newt’s entire body tenses so tightly his shoulders are almost to his ears and his hands claw at nothing. It takes all his will to breathe evenly when he turns to see who’s come up behind him. It’s an African man, probably the porter, holding a stack of newspapers. On the top rests a copy of the Daily Prophet International. Newt stays frozen, eyes darting up to and away from the man’s face and he immediately makes to turn himself away.
The porter merely smiles pleasantly. “Sir? A newspaper?”
“Ah. Yes,” Newt says slowly, “Well. I don’t have- that is- I haven’t any currency with me at the moment.”
“No matter, sir,” the porter says, “Prepaid service for year-long travelers.”
Theseus. Newt tries to keep his face neutral, “And how are year-long travelers kept track of?”
“Sometimes worried brothers have an office in the right place,” says the porter.
Newt forces himself to unfolds and a smile crosses his face unbidden. He reaches to take the paper from the wizard. “Thank you. How much are you required to report back?”
“Just receipt, sir,” says the wizard. He touches the brim of his hat. “If that’s all.”
Newt is already looking at the paper as the wizard Apparates away with a pop. The main story headline decries violence done by Grindelwald's supporters. Smaller headlines speak of a sudden lack of confirmed sightings of Grindlewald after a final rally he’d held in Germany.
There’s a letter wrapped in the folds of the newspaper. Newt hurries back to his cabin.