Before:

Percival could hear them sometimes.

Just barely. Like whispers being carried by the wind, slipping between the hills and the buildings, too far to be understood, but close enough to tickle his ears and his mind, like an annoying bug that wouldn't go away. He would not pay attention to it, at least he tried to, because all annoying bugs were persistent enough to let their presence be known and he just couldn't sleep at night with those voices always murmuring their taunting words at his bedside.

"-aves? Graves?"

He would close his eyes and listen, even though he hated this feeling that grasped his heart and crushed his chest, telling him not to turn back and run as far away as he could. He was not a coward. He faced danger without a flinch, had stopped wizards and killers who used to terrorize the entire American wizarding community with only his wand and his might. He was the law itself, its hammer and shield who did not have mercy on its enemies. Percival Graves did not run.

Yet, he couldn't hide from himself the unease he felt when silence took over the rest, which wasn't unusual in his quiet, alone life. The last time he had truly been isolated, it had lasted days and days (and weeks he learned later) and the voices had started then. So far yet so close, it was as if every single person he had met had started talking at once and aren't you tired Percival and why are you always alone Graves and you know, I don't think I've ever seen the boss genuinely smile even once and you know why you're such a lonely one Percival, don't you?

He knew none of it was real. He knew it was just a trick of his own mind that could not stand his own little prison built just for him by a deranged dark lord. He knew Grindelwald was having the time of his life keeping the head of the Director of Magical Security in a small box inside his pocket, as if he was some kind of trophy he wanted to show to the entire world but just couldn't.

And in the midst of it, just on the other side of that thin wall that kept him inside a silver box, he swore he could hear the voices of people talking to Grindelwald thinking they were talking to Percival Graves and he just wanted to scream.

He was right there.

"Percival."

"What?"

"I've been trying to get your attention for the past two minutes, Graves," sighed Seraphina Picquery, straightening herself on her chair.

They were in her office. Magical reliques surrounded them as proof of the power of the witch before him, portraits of great figures of the Macusa stared down at him with rolling eyes or suspicious glares and the whispers wouldn't leave him be even though he has been released from the hospital days ago.

"Just shut up, for fuck's sake," he thought.

He cleared his throat, "My apologies."

"Are you sure you should have left the hospital so soon?"

"Well, if you want my opinion, we shouldn't let him go back to the field, look how well that went last time, the one who caught Grindelwald was a mere civilian!," a man with expensive looking and slightly out-of-date clothing snarled from his painting.

"Not to mention British," added grimly another one, this one wearing typical late eighteenth century coat and stockings.

"A British!" was murmured over and over, an echo roaming alongside the walls.

"Quiet." Picquery's voice was calm, but firm, effortlessly getting the silence she asked for. "It is not your decision to make, perhaps you should have stayed alive a bit more for it," she added with a stern look towards the portraits, who all wisely followed her 'advice', even though they clearly didn't think less of it.

Seraphina sighed deeply, and it was the only sound to be heard in the silence that Percival found to be agonizing. He usually didn't mind it, instead he gladly welcomed it, but silence had become something unsettling, creeping inside his body and bones until it reached his brain and heart.

He almost expected Grindelwald's jeering laugh coming out of nowhere.

"With Grindelwald in our cells, and soon enough in Azkaban," Picquery finally said after minutes and minutes of pondering, her elbows on her desk and her fingers crossed in front of her, "I can allow you to take back your position without further notice. As none of us managed to catch him, I clearly don't have the leisure to punish anyone who failed in their mission."

He sorely and slowly nodded.

"However," she added before he could respond, "you must understand that I am in a very fragile position at the moment."

Her eyes went to the portraits on the walls and it was more than enough for him to understand. He already knew his failure and theft of identity had spread mistrust inside the Macusa, and surely the former Macusa leaders were not the only ones with such pessimistic opinions of him. They were just the loudest ones among the crowd.

"Which is why your area of expertise will be restricted. Anything that has to do with direct handling of Grindelwald will be handled by someone else."

He tried to ignore the whispering voices' getting louder, instead discreetly gripping the armrests of his chair. He wasn't sure how to feel about not being able to approach the dark mage. A mix of relief and disappointment.

Along with the whispers, he tried to ignore his own feelings. What would it bring to him, facing Grindelwald again?

(Answers. Satisfaction. Vengeance.)

(But the law didn't seek vengeance.)

"Graves, this is a second chance I am giving you. There won't be a third."

He nodded once again. Picquery wasn't expecting an answer anyway. People who couldn't contest her authority were few, and Graves surely wasn't one of them. He got up from his chair as she gave him a sign she hadn't anything else to say and went down the few steps that elevated her desk in the room towards the door.

"Percival."

He stopped, slightly turned around. There was something different in her voice that had made him stop, and in the corner of his field of vision, he could see her shoulders somewhat hunched as she leaned back in her own chair. It was as if her mantle of president had slipped off her back and suddenly, with the softness deeply hidden in both her voice and silhouette, he was reminded that despite the bureaucratic bond that linked them, they both valued each other as wizards of renown and friends.

"I hope you understand."

"I do, Madam."

He knew it was all she could do, as much as he knew that her decision to give him back his position would give her a lot of troubles. It was a risk she was taking, for more than her career, he realized.

Yet, she still had the same look in her eyes, like everyone else did, that said "You have failed us" and Graves had never felt more alone in his life.

Now:

Percival wasn't sure what to think of the man who supposedly had saved his life. At least, he had contributed to it.

As he had the wizard right before his eyes, he couldn't help but glance at the peculiar room he seemed to work in. Surely the last time he had witnessed such a messy office was that one time one of the new Aurors accidently set up a wind charm of some kind, effectively blowing a strong wind throughout the entire department and all the files (even even some furnitures) had went flying. Well, maybe he was over-exaggerating a bit, but still.

But there was more to the British wizard than the state of his room. If he used as a basis Goldstein's little stories she had told him every now and then during their weeklong journey between America and Great Britain, he had expected the curious character that Newt Scamander seemed to be. Even his interest for creatures seemed peculiar among his own colleagues, even if Great Britain certainly had different laws than America to deal with them. Nonetheless, Percival hadn't expected the stuttering, the eyes fleeing his own and even Tina's, the shyness of the man.

If he could sum it up: "how could this boy manage to fight and survive an encounter with the most powerful dark lord of our times?"

He honestly didn't have a better word for him.

Also, if he and Goldstein could stop looking at each other like awkward teenagers, it would certainly make his day easier to stand.

He shook Dumbledore's hand with unease.

The man had greeted a dumbfounded Scamander with a kind hearted smile and a sparkle of playfulness. Not that much older than Percival himself, faint wrinkles could still be spotted at the corner of his eyes, showing he wasn't a young man anymore. But his presence was enough to draw attention, and Percival was suddenly reminded of Grindelwald. It wasn't exactly the same, but both men had the same stature nonetheless, and Percival could sense the energy of the wizard's magic.

"I see that you are doing great, Newton. Although Hogwarts will always be a home for all of its students, school has never been the right place for you," the man had said.

Of course Scamander had stuttered a bit then, but in a way that showed he had deep respect for his former professor, who seemed used to it. They engaged in conversation, small talk about life at Hogwarts that left the two Americans completely lost, and Percival surprised himself when he noticed the fond smile of the magizoologist, seemingly wandering in his old memories.

"Why don't you introduce your friends to me?"

"Oh, right, um, Professor, this is Porpentina Goldstein and Percival Graves, from the Macusa. Tina, Mister Graves, this is Professor Dumbledore."

The man himself didn't need an introduction, as he wasn't a simple Transfiguration professor at Hogwarts. He had been offered the seat of Minister of Magic a few times already, which always stirred the Macusa's International Relations office. Although Percival didn't have the chance to meet him in person yet.

Now, he wasn't sure how to react. The more he looked, the more he saw Grindelwald and it sent shivers down his spine, he felt his blood boil just at the thought of the dark mage. Still, Dumbledore seemed totally different on the outside. Caring, even somehow protective about his former student, he had a warm presence that clashed with the coldness of the corridors and Tina seemed, although impressed, at ease.

But Percival had seen enough men lying in his life to immediately know when someone had a heavy burden to hide.

And Dumbledore didn't seem fooled by Percival trying to hide his suspicion behind a handshake.

"I wouldn't dare be rude, Professor," Newt finally said, thus breaking the connection between the two older men, "but may I ask why you're here?"

"I would hardly call you rude, Newton," Dumbledore joked. "I was kindly asked to assist with a famous case that seemed to be scandalous around here. But I think you know which one I am talking about, don't you?" His eyes went to Tina and Percival.

"You mean Grindelwald, Sir?" Tina said.

"Oh yes. To think that the man managed to slip through the cracks of the Aurors from all over the continent, only to be caught in America, I think our dear Minister will never recover from this scandal."

They all seemed not to have an answer for that, probably because both the Macusa's Aurors didn't want to cause a diplomatic incident. (Surprisingly, criticizing the British minister inside his own fortress, surrounded by countless wizards working for him, wasn't such a good idea.) Fortunately, Dumbledore just laughed.

"Don't mind me, I must be getting old, I tend to think out loud a lot these days. Surely, that team of investigators right here at the corner must be waiting for you, they have been standing over there for the past ten minutes."

Indeed, a duo of a wizard and a witch were watching them from afar. Percival didn't point out loud that they must have been too polite or afraid to dare interrupt someone of Dumbledore's reputation, but the professor looked aware and quite amused by it. Without having said a word to Dumbledore, Percival shook his hand again as a goodbye and Tina did the same before following him. Newt caught up a minute later, his cheeks slightly flushed, but with an amused smile on his face and Percival thought his professor must have teased him about an old story they had shared during the past.

After entering the room that would be used for their interrogation about their involvement in The Great Case of 1926, as some had started to call it (because "The day some European random dude almost destroyed New York City because apparently Europeans hate us", as suggested by an Auror from the Macusa, was too long and a bit problematic), their unexpected encounter with Dumbledore seemed already far behind. The room had black walls with a greenish shade to them. A simple metal table stood in the middle, chairs on both sides of it, the two investigators already seated. The pale light that came from a small sphere cast by one of them and that was now floating above their head and the lack of actual windows made the room much smaller than it was.

It was difficult to think that Newt's office and this room were part of the same building, and yet. Percival almost missed it, not that he would admit it.

"Let's get started then. We will only ask simple questions, to make sure that we can handle Grindelwald's transfer to Azkaban with the best conditions, which is why we want you to inform us about everything that can be useful," the witch started with a bored tone, but sure of herself and her duty. Two quills were flying next to them, ready to take notes, and surely there were other means to read between what they were going to say inside the room itself.

They all sat down, Percival between Newt and Tina. Then, the interrogation started and they began to tell the story.

Newt was fairly silent for most of it, Tina was actually the one doing the talking. Percival listened, having another point of view than all the reports he had read. He noticed that Tina was fairly elusive as well, not mentioning the reasons why Newt had been there in the first place or any of his creatures, as Graves suspected that the Puffskein, the Fairies, the Bowtruckle and the Niffler were only a glimpse of all the beasts he took care of. Although the British laws were less strict than the American ones, he was certain the Ministry wouldn't allow one of their own causing a ruckus with illegal beasts in a foreign country. But, as he had said before, it wasn't his jurisdiction.

Scamander spoke up a few times, a soft but determined voice breaking the conversation.

"It wasn't his fault, everything was Grindelwald's own doing," he said, defending Credence Barebone.

If the magizoologist seemed reluctant to make eye contact, Percival saw him stare right at the wizard who had mentioned the poor teenager's responsibility in the case, almost implying that it had indeed been his fault. But although Scamander had his head slightly tilted towards the floor, a few of his red curls hiding his eyes, he kept staring while discreetly biting his upper lip, daring the wizard to prove him wrong. He had spoken with little sound, but with such hidden strength that the wizard just nodded, making a sign for his quill that began to frantically note a few lines.

Next to him, Tina smiled despite herself and Graves was starting the understand why Dumbledore hold so much interest in his eyes when speaking to Scamander.

Then came Graves' turn.

"You didn't say much in your own reports about your… absence."

Percival immediately tensed. Next to him, both Newt and Tina sent him a concerned look, the latter almost lifting her hand in a comforting gesture, but she stopped herself before it could be noticed by anyone. His jaw tight, Percival then answered: "There isn't much to say."

Both Aurors lifted an eyebrow, as if one was a mirrored image of the other. They exchanged a look and a sigh.

"Mister Graves, I don't think you understand what is at stake at this very moment. We need to be prepared the best way we can and for that, we need as much information as possible."

"Well, maybe it would have been wiser to have done that much sooner, perhaps the mad man wouldn't have slipped past your ministry's 'security'." He didn't know why he was doing this, but he just couldn't stop the harsh truth from coming out of his mouth.

"Mister Graves, I am going to ask one more time before this becomes a diplomatic incident: how and for what reason did Grindelwald captured you for weeks?"

Silence. Had he looked at Newton and Tina at his left and right, he would have seen them exchanging a scared glance, not knowing what to do.

"I believe we're done here." He got up without breaking eye contact with the witch, then turned around to get out of this room. He felt like he was suffocating.

"Mister Graves-" Percival didn't stop, not even knowing if it had been Scamander or Goldstein calling his name.

He stopped after a few feet, passing a hand on his face. The corridor had the same glacial, green atmosphere as the previous room.

He didn't have anything to say, because there wasn't much to say. He was not lying. His 'stay' at the mercy of the mad wizard had been nothing but silence and waiting, sometimes a taunting laugh that sounded too much like his own because he had stolen his face and voice and everything. But that was it.

"Already done?"

Percival turned his head with a glare, although on the outside he already seemed perfectly calm. Yet, he knew he couldn't hide anything from Dumbledore's piercing eyes.

"I had nothing much useful to give."

Dumbledore approached him with a knowing expression that was greatly infuriating. Percival allowed himself a second to calm down a bit more, remembering that the man in front of him should receive the respect he deserved.

"I think we can both disagree on that, can't we? But, I understand. I don't know if anything will be useful to them. Grindelwald's scheming mind shouldn't be underestimated, if you ask for my opinion."

"You don't sound so confident yourself about the success of his transfer, am I wrong?" Percival abruptly asked.

Dumbledore's smile flickered and for a moment, Percival had the impression that he was seeing the real man behind the polite and quite a bit playful demeanor.

"You know him, don't you?"

"... I used to think I knew him," Dumbledore finally said after a few minutes of silence. "But I certainly have enough memories of him to claim with confidence that we are not done hearing about him."

"So you do think that he is going to escape?"

"I do not think, I know." It seemed to be a foolish thing to say, taking into account all the security and personnel scheduled to be deployed on both sides of the ocean. Yet, Percival remembered himself saying the exact same sentence months ago and he understood it was more than a simple intuition.

"And when that happens, we will need to think outside of the box, to understand him."

As getting inside of the head of the maniac wasn't an idea Percival was really fond of (he already had seen a bit too much of it), he frowned, speaking up with an accusing tone. "What do you mean?"

"Grindelwald… is someone who wants to dominate. He has a very precise vision of the world and for that, he needs to bring down everyone else that stand in his path. Or had stood in it."

Oh.

"Scamander."

"Both the Macusa and the British Ministry underestimate him and certainly won't bother giving him a protection that Mister Scamander certainly won't stand, when all of their forces will be deployed to stop Grindelwald. Which can be understandable, how could a mere magizoologist, a disappointing version of his brother, bring someone like Grindelwald down? But he still did. So did Miss Goldstein, I suggest keeping an eye on her as well."

Well, this what a bit too much for Percival Graves.

"So you're just suggesting? That's it? Aren't you going to take part in the decisions to stop him? If you're so sure of him attacking Scamander, why won't you convince both ministries yourself?"

"Well, I do think I am getting a bit old lately," Dumbledore joked with a smile, but Percival would take none of it.

"It's as if you do want Grindelwald to roam free."

Dumbledore's smile didn't vanish. Even with the harshness that Percival showed towards the professor, the man still smiled, as if he was congratulating Graves for having found an answer to a particularly complex riddle.

"Do not talk about things you know nothing about, Mister Graves. It has been a pleasure meeting you. Keep an eye on Newton, it would sadden me to see something happen to one of my favorite students."

And with that, he left as swiftly as he had come here, as behind Graves, Tina was calling for him, Newt following right behind.

A/N: Yay for creating a section for Fantastic Beasts, finally!

I have to apologize for the long wait, I think it has been... two weeks maybe? I had final exams and then a bit of a writer block... Hopefully the next chapter can come faster, but I won't promise anything, I don't want to disappoint haha.

I also want to thank everyone that left a comment, it really keeps me going, thank you so much for the support, I didn't expect that much from this, thank you so much. Some of you were a bit excited about Dumbledore, I hope I did a good job in his portrayal! He is a fairly complex character and we don't know yet how he was like in the 1920s so I took some liberties while still trying to stick to the canon timeline, so he is around his forties here.

In any case, consider this chapter as a gift for the end of this year, have great holidays everyone!