Chapter Text
There is no rhyme or reason behind it. The attacks, they seem to scatter all through out Manhattan randomly – this street dug up by invisible force, that building brought down, those automobiles thrown against the walls… The only thing that connected them was the fact that they all took place on lower Manhattan but aside from that it was as if someone had pinned a map on a wall and thrown darts at it, for all the connection the attacks seemed to have.
They are escalating though. They had been escalating before, bit by bit growing worse, more severe – from shaken windows to entire four story apartment utterly crumbled. The thing, whatever it was a beast or a spirit or even a wizard, was getting stronger.
"Or just losing restraint," Harry comments, peering at one of the articles that featured a witness account on a recent attack. "The fact that it started small doesn't always mean that it was a small thing behind it – it could just be that it was more careful in the beginning."
"Careful," Graves scoffs and glares at the map he's making. Queenie had let him use he street map, and he'd been marking it with all the incidents he remembered along with everything that had made it to the papers. It was a mess. "Everything is gaining momentum here. These incidents, they're not just getting stronger but they're speeding up too – from couple incident a week to a daily occurrence."
Sighing he runs a hand over his face. "There's no reason behind any of these locations though. It really does look like it's a beast of some sort, a hitherto unknown one, that's just lashing out senselessly."
"I find it a bit curious that there hasn't been any casualties," Harry says as he spreads the paper out on his knees, pointing at the article. "I mean, listen to this: It came up to my face, I saw it clearly – black smoke but like liquid, it was, with bright white eyes. It looked straight at me, I swore, it did!"
Graves glances up. "It's how all the witnesses who saw it described it," he says.
"Yes – but the thing came up to this bloke's face, looked at him, saw him – and did nothing to him?" Harry says and glances up. "The man lived to tell the tale, and so did everyone else who's given witness reports. If it's a senseless beast, it's being very careful about human casualties."
Graves hums in agreement. That was his hang up before too, before Grindelwald had kidnapped him. So many people had been in danger, but none of them had been hurt. It implied a sense of care that a senseless creature or mindless magical force wouldn't show.
"Could be a coincidence," he says without much faith.
"Yes, because you're obviously a man who believes in coincidence," Harry snorts and shakes his head. "It would be down right miraculous at this point if it was a coincidence. Statistical anomaly even."
Graves frowns at him and then shakes his head at the weird wording. "So say we assume this thing has some intelligence," he says. "Either that or it's being controlled by someone with will who is squeamish about hurting people. What we end up is a extremely destructive force with a will behind it. It's not exactly comforting thought."
"No, but it would explain Grindelwald's interest," Harry muses and looks down at the paper. "You realise he knows what this is, right?" he then says. "I mean, assuming it's the reason why he's here and it's pretty good assumption to make… he knows what it is. And he wants it."
Graves frowns. "Yeah," he agrees grimly. Grindelwald wanted it bad enough to kidnap him, torture him, and to actually assume his memories which even under controlled circumstances was a damn dangerous thing to do. Whatever it was, it was important enough for Grindelwald to risk permanent mental damage on himself. Another not exactly comforting thought.
"So, it's not a beast then," Graves says, shaking his head and frowning at the map again. "He wouldn't be telling people it's a beast if it really was. And if it's not a beast…"
"Then it's either a spell or a being – and the thing has eyes," Harry says.
Graves nodded, running a hand over his chin, idly scratching at the five day's worth of stubble. Then he heard voices coming through the walls, muffled and distant but clearly the voices of multiple people. Glancing up, he listened. "I do believe Auror Goldstein is home," he says and sighs. "Finally, hopefully now we can get some in-depth information."
"I thought she was demoted," Harry comments.
"She's also extremely nosy," Graves answers. "And I'll be very surprised indeed if she's managed to keep away from the investigation all this time." She certainly hadn't before.
There's steps on the stairs and then door opens and soon after closes, and then they can hear Queenie, greeting her sister. "Teenie," she sounds surprised. "You brought men home."
Graves tenses at that, turning to the open door. He can't see the entrance, or the newcomers, from this angle, but he can hear them, moving about
"Gentlemen, this is my sister," Auror Goldstein says and then pauses. "Queenie, what are you making – that's…"
"Well," Queenie answers and Graves can hear her moving about, her voice growing louder as she comes closer. "As it turns out, I have guests too. Tina – don't be alarmed now. Come here."
"Um, if you have guests over perhaps we should –" a male voice, British, soft. Graves arches his eyebrows at Harry, who tilts his head a bit, looking curious.
"No you don't, Mr. Scamander – and you, sit down before you fall down," Tina answers. "Queenie," she then says. "What do you mean you have guests – Mrs. Esposito –"
"Pots and kettles, Teenie, you brought men in too – here," Queenie says with a little laugh, and then the sister's are at the doorway. Graves gets only a glimpse of Auror Goldstein's serious, suspicious face before she has him on want point.
"Hands where I can see them!" she snaps at them.
"Goldstein – " Graves says, even as he drops the paper he'd been holding and lifts his hands. "We can explain –"
"There's a bulleting out for a man attempting to impersonate Director Graves," Tina says tightly, looking between Graves and Harry, her eyes flicking to Graves' wounded cheek, the bruised wrists, and then to Harry, gaunt and starved and only holding up the one remaining hand. "Queenie," Tina says sharply.
The blond sister reaches out to touch her wrist. "They've been here for a bit now," she says gently, pushing at her sister's wrist. "And Mr. Graves hasn't fought me a bit. He's the real thing, I promise – put that down now."
Tina glances at her, then at Graves, taking him in. "Explain," she demands, flicking her wand at him threateningly.
"I was taken five days ago," Graves says slowly, as calmly as he can manage. "I don't remember exactly how – I woke up in basement with him," he nods at Harry. "With Gellert Grindelwald standing over us. We escaped yesterday – but not before he took what feels like most of my memories, and my identity with them."
"Queenie," Tina demands.
"He's telling you the truth," she promises gently. "Put your wand down."
It takes a moment before, in hesitant jerks, the former auror lowers her wand. "Mercy Lewis," she then says, her eyes widening a bit as the truth settles in. "Sir?"
"Goldstein," Graves answers and lowers his hand. "Apologies for barging in, but… I rather needed your sister's abilities to prove myself."
"Oh. Oh, right," Tina says, blinking, glancing at Queenie who smiles awkwardly and them back at Graves. "I just – we just saw you in the Woolworth building," she says faintly. "It was… Grindelwald? How in Wardwell's name – I never would have – Sir, I'm so sorry, I didn't suspect a thing, I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary."
"I'm not surprised. The man stuck my memories into his own head," Graves scoffs and then looks past her shoulder.
There's a man there, in vivid blue coat, peering curiously if somewhat awkwardly into the room over the sisters' shoulders. Tina follows Graves' gaze and then whirls around. "Mr. Scamander," she snaps. "Hasn't anyone told you sneaking up on people is rude?"
"I'm sure they have," the man says, his accent clearly English, looking between Graves and Harry with a worried sort of curiosity.
"Scamander?" Harry asks with recognition.
Graves arches his eyebrows a little, taking the other British man in. "I've met Theseus Scamander personally," he says slowly, suspiciously. "And that's not him." They had some of the same features though – the same red-brown hair and freckles everywhere.
"Yes, I'm sorry, I'm not Theseus," the man in blue coat says, ducking his head a bit.
"I don't… even know who that is," Harry answers with a shake of his head and looks at the freckled man. "Any relation to Newt Scamander?"
Scamander looks up, looking startled. "Um. Yes, well – I am Newt Scamander?" he says, sounding confused.
Graves is looking at Harry, so he doesn't miss the way his eyes widen just a little before the man quickly schools his expression. The smile on his face isn't quite fake, though it is somehow restrained. "It's an honour, sir," he says.
"It is?" Scamander asks, sounding even more confused. "Um, I'm sorry, I don't know who you are."
"You wouldn't," Harry agrees and automatically holds out his right hand. Then he stops, glancing at the stump and lowering it awkwardly. "You can call Harry."
"How do you do," Scamander says automatically, frowning – not at Harry, but rather at his stump. Awkward, he squirms back the confused Goldstein sisters, stepping into the guest room. For some reason, he's carrying a large leather suitcase – he almost hits Queenie with it. "That looks recent," he says, still looking at Harry's arm. "May I?"
"By all means," Harry answers and holds the amputated arm for his inspection.
Graves eyes them and then glances at Tina, his eyebrows arched. "Who is he?" he asks, because knowing what little he does about Harry, the fact that the man knows this one – and apparently respects him – puts him a little ill at ease.
"Ah, well," Tina coughs awkwardly. "This is Newt Scamander – he has a… crazy creature in his suitcase, it made an incident in a nomaj bank…" she trails off, making a face.
"What is it?" Graves demands.
"No, I just… I just told this to you little while ago. Him – Grindelwald," she says. "He didn't believe me."
Graves narrows his eyes at that. "A creature you say," he says, eyeing Scamander with greater suspicion. "What kind of creature?"
"It's just a niffler," Scamander mutters, glancing at him. "He's perfectly harmless if… a bit unruly."
"You released a niffler on a bank?" Harry asks, looking like he'd be grinning if Scamander hadn't been poking at his wounded wrist. "I can imagine that causing an incident."
"Oh, you know them?" Scamander asks with surprised delight. "And I didn't release him – he snuck out, the thieving thing. It was trouble and a half to catch him too."
"Yeah, I bet it was."
"What's a niffler?" Graves asks impatiently, glancing at the Goldstein sisters.
"I have no idea, sir," Tina sighs and runs a hand over her face. Then she looks at him. "Sir, if Grindelwald is really infiltrated the MACUSA…" she says. "We need to do something about that!"
"Yes, we do, and we will," Graves says, glancing at Scamander, who is prodding at Harry's bandaged wrist curiously. "What is going on at MACUSA?" he then asks. "What is he doing?"
"I don't really know sir, I haven't been allowed onto the Auror levels much at all," Tina admits. "Madam Picquery is very vehement about it. They are investigating the… incidents," she trails off, looking down at the papers, her eyebrows arching. "And so are you, apparently."
"We think the incidents are reason why he's here," Graves agrees and motions at the headline for that day. "That this being is the reason he came here."
"Being – I thought it's a beast?" Tina asks with a frown, stepping closer to look.
"It's fair to assume Grindelwald knows what it actually is – and according to this," Graves takes out the paper for 4th of December, which included few words from Director Graves of MACUSA Department of Magical Security. "He calls it a beast. And if it's really what he's after, he'd be misdirecting the investigation as much as possible, don't you agree?"
"Incidents?" Scamander asks, glancing up. "What incidents?"
"Apparently a ghostly smoky liquid dark force with white eyes is going around smashing buildings and whatnot," Harry says and peers at him thoughtfully. "You wouldn't happen to know what that is, Mr. Scamander?"
Graves looks at him with surprise and then looks at Scamander who has visibly stilled.
"Ghostly… smoky liquid dark force," the man repeats faintly. "With white eyes?"
Harry nods, watching him with something like awe. "It can fly, go through walls and appears and vanishes without a trace," he says. "Started out month ago, breaking windows and whatnot – then started to escalate. Now it's destroying buildings."
Scamander's throat works silently for a moment and then he swallows.
"Mr. Scamander?" Tina asks slowly. "You know what it is?"
The British man looks up, almost jerking – and Harry lets out a hiss of pain as he accidentally tugs at his wounded wrist. "Um," Scamander says, releasing his wrist quickly. "Ah, yes, maybe?" he says, looking at Tina and then at Graves. "I – ah, encountered something like it just three months ago, in Africa – in Sudan. A little girl, she…"
"You mean to say this is a person?" Graves asks suspicious.
"Well. Not a person, exactly," Scamander says helplessly. "She – she was an obscurial, you see. And liquid black smoke with white eyes – that's… that's a fairly accurate description of an obscurus."
There's a beat of silence as they all stare at him. Obscurial, Graves thinks and his mind twists in horror as he connects Grindelwald's interest in the incidents and then the concept of a magical child abused to a breaking point…
"What's an obscurus?" Harry asks in confusion, wincing a little as he rubs at his bandaged wrist.
"There are no obscurials left," Tina says quickly, looking between Scamander and Graves. "That can't be it, can it?"
"Scamander?" Graves asks suspiciously. "How, exactly, do you know this?"
"I told you, I met one three months ago. I was investigating the incident, they thought it was lethifold or something of the sort," Scamander explains. "Lethifolds don't leave bodies behind, however, so I looked into it more deeply until I… found her. Locked way, in the darkness…"
"There hasn't been recorded obscurials in hundreds of years," Tina says, shaking her head in denial.
"They used to be more common, but they still happen," Scamander says sadly and draws a breath and turning to Harry. "Obscurial is what happens when a magical child is punished for their magic and tries to suppress it. They develop what is called an Obscurus. It's a… growth of sort, of magic, that expresses itself as dark force. Like liquid black smoke. It lashes out in pain, causes destruction and death… until the host dies."
Harry stares at him, his face falling expressionless.
Graves scowls, looking at the papers. Like any American wizards he knows the history of obscurials well enough. America had had… many of them, following the Salem Witch Trials, they'd swept the land like plague for years for decades until Rappaport's law had came into effect. But even so, he doubts he would have recognised one even if he'd came face to face with one.
"Grindelwald knows," he mutters to himself. "He knows. How would he know? And what would he want with an obscurial?"
There's a moment of silence. "What happened to the one you met?" Tina asks, looking at Scamander.
"I… tried to help her, but…" the man bows his head, his shoulders slumping a bit. "She died. She was eight. There has never been an obscurial who lived past ten."
"No, there has," Harry says, making them all look up. He has a distant look on his face. "There was a girl Grindelwald knew when he was younger – sister of his friend. She had an… incident with some muggles and according to her brother it destroyed her. Her magic turned inward and… " he frowns and looks up. "She was fourteen when she died."
Graves stares at him. "Now how the hell do you know that?" he asks slowly, dangerously.
Harry presses his lips together and he looks away. "I never knew it had a name. Obscurus," he murmurs, staring at his wrist. "That's… interesting."
"Harry," Graves growls.
The Brit shakes his head and looks up. "Just take what you can get, alright?" he says tightly. "It should be pretty obvious by now that I'm not going to tell you everything."
"And it should be pretty fucking obvious it's pissing me off," Graves snaps back.
"Yes, it is – but little gratitude wouldn't go amiss," Harry says and waves his stump. "I'm giving you as much as I can here, alright? I don't know how far I'm gone here yet. Just… take what you can get."
Graves hisses out a curse, but the wrist, swelling in it's constrictive bandage again, puts a rather efficient stop to his objections. It turns out it's extremely hard to demand more from a man who's literally given you their right hand, as much as the man annoys and infuriates him.
So, he grits his teeth and swallows his bitter objections, helpless in his anger and guilt both.
Scamander looks between them, his eyebrows arched a little. Then he glances back, at Tina, who is similarly confused. "Um," he says awkwardly. "I… realise I'm possibly in the middle of something I don't really understand, but… what do you intend to do?" he asks, turning to Graves. "Concerning the obscurial, I mean?"
Graves blows out a breath. Fuck, it's all suddenly so much more complicated. He wants to oust Grindelwald, yes, but before that they really had to stop him. What the man wants with the obscurial didn't even matter – what mattered was making sure he didn't get what he wanted. "Find them and keep Grindelwald from getting to them," he says. "Somehow."
Scamander nods. "I… would like to help," he offers. "Can I please help?"
"Mr. Scamander," Tina says. "You've let creatures on the loose in New York, remember?"
"You what?" Graves asks sharply.
"His suit case – it's magically expanded. And the niffler got out again," Tina says wryly.
"Yes, well… I hardly doubt any of them can cause more harm than an obscurus," the man offers awkwardly, looking away.
"Them?" Tina asks. "Just how many escaped? How many creatures do you have in that case?!"
Scamander coughs. "I am not entirely sure how many got out. I would have to check, really," he says awkwardly, glancing between Tina and Graves who is starting to feel an enormous headache building up, and Harry who is looking rather worn out now.
"First, though," the freckled Brit says. "I think we should possibly do something about this."
He motions at Harry's wrist.
"It's fine," Harry says with a sigh. "Honestly I'm getting used to it now."
"It's putting a terrible strain on your heart and thanks to interrupted, torn veins and the infection it's leaking toxins into your bloodstream, straining your heart even further," Scamander says frankly. "Honestly, if we leave it like this you might not live to see tomorrow."
Graves looks ups sharply as Harry stares at the man, his eyes wide. "Oh," Harry says faintly. "I… see."
They all eye the stump for a moment in horror. It looks bad – but that bad? Graves swallows and looks at Scamander. "Are you a healer?" he asks. "Can you fix it?"
Scamander hesitates. "I imagine going to a proper healer is out of question right now," he says and looks at Harry. "I know enough to try, but chances are I might have to re-amputate it higher up, for a cleaner break."
Harry shrugs, staring at the wrist. "I already lost the hand," he says and swallows, looking up – and Graves. "I'd rather not die just yet, though, if that's all the same."
Graves narrows his eyes, not sure what the man is trying to convey. It's heavy, in any case.
"Alright," Scamander says. "I need to get some tools from my suitcase," he then says and then stands up, moving to the side to set his suitcase down. "I need to get something for Mr. Kowalski too. I'll be right back."
Graves stares at him with disbelief as the man climbs into the suitcase. He shares a look with Harry who just shakes his head with confusion. Tina lets out a breath. "Mercy damn it, I completely forgot about him," she mutters and turns around, leaving the room.
Graves quickly stands up, walking to the door way to see what else was going on. Queenie had ducked out at some point, he hadn't even noticed – she's now sitting by the kitchen table with none other than Jacob Kowalski, flirtatiously leaning in.
"Oh, Ted, hello." Jacob says, waving at him somewhat clumsily, looking flushed and ill with what looks like bite mark on his neck. "Though I heard a familiar voice."
"Ted?" Tina asks, making a face at him. "Who's Ted?"
"He's Ted," Jacob points at Graves.
"Sir?" Tina asks with disbelief.
"What is going on?" Graves asks, not entirely sure he actually wants to know. "Why's the nomaj here?"
"Well it's… a long story," Tina says with a grimace. "You see, Mr. Scamander and Mr. Kowalski accidentally switched suitcases at the bank and well, there was another incident, I'm afraid. One of Mr. Scamander's creatures bit Mr. Kowalski and…"
Graves sighs, shakes his head, and backs away in middle of the explanation. He turns to Harry, who is giving him a knowing, sympathetic look in the face of the sheer exasperated exhaustion Graves knows is plainly visible on his face.
"Weird things come in threes, I've found," the Brit says almost conversationally. "So really, it was almost to be expected."
"Oh shut up," Graves mutters and buries his face in his hands.