Chapter 9
Chapter 9
In the smaller shabby upstairs bedroom at the New Salem Society, Credence stood in the corner, fiercely willing his silent tears to stop falling. Ma had commanded him to stand in the corner until bedtime - no supper for him again tonight.
He rested his forehead against the cool wall, hoping it would soothe the pounding headache he felt since the attack. His back was raw from the belting he received from Ma Barebone for...whatever transgression he had committed in her eyes. His face burned in anger and humiliation - no matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, she would always find fault with his actions. She seemed to take pleasure in beating him down...she was a hard woman and she was particularly brutal towards Credence.
Deep down, on some level, Credence believed he deserved the punishments. He’d read the Scripture, he’d heard the preachings of the Reverend, and they always chilled him to the soul. He knew he was an abomination. No matter how hard he tried, he could feel it there, just below his skin, the evil, the filth, the corruption. The tears fell more freely. He cried for himself, for the fourteen years of misery he had to his name, and the inevitable damnation of his soul. Did he even have a soul? He cried for the man at the newsstand - he knew the man was dead, as sure as he knew his own name was Credence Barebone. He cried for the evil inside and how no matter how hard he tried to be good, he couldn’t contain it.
If he hadn’t been crying, perhaps he would have heard the commotion downstairs in the chapel. He did not, however, so wrapped up as he was in his guilt and self-loathing, so he was startled out of his silent misery by the door to the bedroom flying open.
Credence jumped and turned away from the wall, then felt the guilt and fear rise up in him - Ma would give him another beating if she found out he’d moved from his corner. A man and a woman walked in, holding sticks in their outstretched hands. Credence flinched back, fearing another beating. The dark-haired woman lowered her stick immediately.
He turned back quickly, and whispered “Please, please don’t tell her…”
The woman walked closer as the man continued to stand in the doorway, his stick pointed at Credence.
“What was that, lad?” asked the woman not unkindly.
“Please don’t tell Ma that I turned away from the wall.”
The woman drew closer and he heard her draw a sharp breath as she caught sight of the blood on his shirt. The stick was instantly in her hands again, and Credence began to cry in earnest as he waited for the blows to land.
“Goldstein,” came a warning tone from the man in the doorway.
“Sir, he’s bleeding - I have to help him.”
If Credence or Tina had been looking at Graves in the doorway, they would have been struck by the expression that crossed his face - morbid curiosity, and cold calculation. The gears in his mind were already spinning as he planned on the best way to turn this situation to this benefit, and he grinned maliciously. He cast a quick charm towards Goldstein, as she cast diagnostic charms over the boy.
The boy was feverish, weak with pain, delirious with hunger and exhaustion...he winced in fear, finally recognizing the wand for what it was, recognizing her for what she was...a witch. And yet, the kindness and concern in her face gave him pause, as did the instant soothing he felt as the pain in his body stopped abruptly with a wave of her wand. He crumpled limply to his knees, resting his face on the floor as he sobbed softly. She made to comfort the boy, but Graves grabbed her arm.
“Goldstein, step outside.”
“What?” She said, angrily, and turned to glare at Graves. She froze when she met his eyes, which gleamed unnaturally in the dark.
“You’re getting hysterical. You attacked Miss Barebone in your rage. You are allowing your emotion to cloud your judgement. Step outside and calm yourself down before you do something you regret .”
He grinned to himself at her dazed and glassy expression. “I, yes. I attacked her.”
“If I hadn’t stopped you, you would have killed her.”
“I would have killed her.”
“Go downstairs. Leave me with the boy. I will take care of him.”
“You will take care of him.” She turned on her heel and made her way out.
He smiled to himself. He did not care for Tina Goldstein, she was an idealist, her morality was incorruptible, but she was easy to manipulate. She was sweet on Mr. Graves, and so she was particularly susceptible to his influence. He could manipulate her to his will with no effort at all and shut down her suspicions with ease.
They didn’t call him Silver Tongue for nothing.
* * * * * * *
It was mid afternoon, and the heat was becoming truly unbearable, as Murdoch retraced his steps to the Second Salem Society. This time, he was accompanied by Inspector Brackenreid (who had insisted on coming along when he realised that heavy-handed tosser, Meyers, was involved) and Julia. He still felt quite shaken by the day’s revelations, and it wasn't over yet. He was uncharacteristically quiet and uncomfortable-looking in the sweltering heat.
“Blimey, it’s bloody maftin’!'' exclaimed Inspector Brackenreid. He patted at his ruddy face with his handkerchief. “Could have used an afternoon at the beach instead of these sweltering streets. What exactly do you think we’re dealing with here, Me ol’ Mocker?” asked the Inspector.
Murdoch paused in his tracks, and exchanged a glance with Dr. Ogden.
“Honestly, Sir...I have absolutely no idea.”
Brackenreid laughed. “That’s one for the books!” He shook his head, still chuckling to himself. “Never thought I’d see the day that the great William Murdoch didn’t have a single theory. Did that Scamander bloke have any useful information? Or is he just some nutter?”
Murdoch made a strangled noise, and Dr. Ogden quickly intercepted, “He’s perfectly sane, Inspector. He postulated some theories as to what could have caused the explosions, but he is certainly not involved with any of it.”
Murdoch swallowed, “I concur. The only lead I think we have right now is the New Salem Society...we can now tie one muder and one bombing to this organization. I suspect they know more than what they're telling us.”
“Well then, we’d better get there quickly and get some answers.”
* * * * * * *
Graves extended his arm, and cradled the boy’s face in his hand.
“That’s it, my boy...you are alright. You are safe. You are so special.”
Credence cried even harder. Graves pulled him into a tight embrace.
“My boy, you don’t deserve this life. You are destined for far far better things.”
Credence’s tears slowly stopped, and he looked up at Graves with his tearstained soulful eyes. Graves looked deep into his eyes.
“Do you know what I am, boy?”
“A witch,” he whispered.
“Wizard,” he corrected, “Witches are female, wizards are male.”
“Wizard,” repeated the boy dazed.
“I sense power in you, my boy….what is your name?”
“Credence.”
“Credence, I am Gr...Graves...Percival Graves. Would you like to come away with me? To become a powerful wizard and leave this place, leave this life behind, reinvent yourself, reborn, like a phoenix from the ashes?”
Credence could barely bring himself to speak, he was still in a stupor from his ordeal, and now he was totally bewitched by the possibility the wizard before him spoke of.
“Yes, Sir, I would like that very much!”
Graves smiled, a smile that didn’t quite reach his glittering dark eyes. He slipped his arms off of Credence, who seemed to slip down limply. He cradled Credence’s face in his hands.
“Credence, a powerful name, for a powerful lad. Belief....Credence... I believe in you, Credence. Do you believe in me?”
“I believe in you.”
“Well, Credence, I want you to join me, but first I need your help...one of the children in this place is also very powerful. Not as powerful as you, never as powerful, but he or she is suffering immensely and is at risk remaining in your mother’s presence.”
“She’s not my mother,” whispered Credence.
Graved laughed coldly.
“Indeed, she is not...though, she is still a risk to the other child. I need you Credence, I need your assistance.” He rubbed the tears on Credence’s cheeks.
“Help me save the other child, and then we can leave this place forever...Do I have your word, Credence?”
“Yes, Sir” whispered Credence.
Graves smiled darkly, then bent close to whisper in Credence’s ear.
* * * * * * *
A few minutes later, after navigating the maze of alleyways and streets of the Ward, Brackenreid, Murdoch and Julia made their way to the New Salem Society, only to find the door blocked by the brown-haired woman, Goldstein. Her hand instinctively flew to her pocket, and she looked at them suspiciously.
“What are you doing here?” she asked angrily.
“I beg your pardon?” retorted Murdoch, “We’re investigating a murder Miss Goldstein.”
“And you will address us with some respect,” snapped Inspector Brackenreid, totally taken aback.
“The Auror department has taken over this investigation,” she retorted.
“The whosis?” snapped Inspector Brackenreid. He tried to push past her but she wouldn’t budge.
“Meyers!” He shouted into the chapel.
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave!” snapped Goldstein angrily.
“You’re going to have to get used to a little disappointment, Sunshine,” snapped Brackenreid. “Meyers, get out here!”
After a beat, Mr. Meyers made his way out of the dilapidated chapel to the street. “Ah, Inspector. Detective. Doctor. What can I do for you?”
“You can let us get on with our jobs, Mr. Meyers,” retorted Murdoch, “We need to speak with Miss Barebone and the children. Urgently.”
“I’m afraid you can’t at the moment...our team is currently speaking with them.”
“And your team is?” asked Brackenreid.
“A highly trained force, sanctioned by the Prime Minister himself. This is out of your grade, gentlemen, I advise you to go home.”
“Meyers, murders have been committed here, we need to bring the guilty party to justice,” implored Murdoch. “You’ve done this in the past, tried to lock us out of the investigation, only to need our help a moment later.”
“This is out of my hands, Murdoch, excuse me.” He re-entered the building. Goldstein shot Murdoch a smug look, before turning to follow him, shutting and locking the door behind her.
Brackenreid gave it an angry shove, muttering to himself angrily.
“Well, that was unhelpful,” said Dr. Ogden.
PSSSSST
“What was that?” she asked.
Murdoch turned his head, and caught a glimpse of rose fabric as it disappeared around the corner.
He led the way around the corner to an alleyway to find Meyers’s assistant. She looked as out of place in that soot-stained alley as a rose in the middle of a garbage heap.
“Detective, they’ll be done soon. It’s best they don’t see you when they leave. Then you can interview the Barebone family.”
“And who are you now?” asked Inspector Brackenreid.
“Queenie Goldstein, Inspector, I’m Mr. Meyers’s secretary.”
“How did you…”
“I overheard you speaking with my sister.”
“Your sister?”
“Yes, Tina Goldstein, the auror.”
“Miss Goldstein, do you often follow Mr. Meyers this closely?” asked Murdoch.
“No, Detective, but I had a feeling this would happen,” she said, nodding in the direction of the New Salem Society, “And I figured you could use my assistance.”
“Your assistance?” asked Inspector Brackenreid.
“Detective, am I to understand that Mr. Scamander has let you in on our world?” She asked Murdoch.
He nodded stiffly.
“And the Inspector and…”
“Dr. Ogden is also aware - the Inspector...no.”
“Aware of?” asked Brackenreid, somewhat irritated to be left out of the loop again.
Queenie tilted her head and looked the Inspector directly in the eyes for a beat, then she said abruptly,
“Magic is real. The murders and explosions are being caused by magical means unknown. Aurors are magical law enforcement officers who are trying to get to the bottom of this - The New Salemers are involved somehow. They’re thinking that perhaps one or more of the members are magical, posing as non-magic - muggle - witch-haters, sowing discontent and chaos hoping to spark a Magical-Muggle war by enacting actions of violence and destruction. There is a Magical terrorist, Grindelwald, active in Europe, who is very much following this pattern of behaviour - causing magical attacks to spark hatred between muggles and magicals...with me so far?”
Brackenreid blinked. She stopped abruptly and turned her head back towards the New Salem Society.
“They’re just finishing up...I’ve got to get back to the office. Give it a minute and then make your way over. I’ll be in touch!”
Then she turned on the spot, and with a sharp CRACK, she vanished. The three of them leapt a foot in the air.
“That must be what Mr. Scamander was talking about...apparating,” said Julia thoughtfully.
“Excuse me, what the - did she just bloody vanish ?”
* * * * * * *
At the same time, Watts, George and Newt were walking back towards City Hall. Watts and George were taking turns interrogating Newt about the magical world and the creatures he encountered in his travels.
“Mr. Scamander, can I ask you a question?”
“You just did, Constable Crabtree...several questions actually” said Newt with a smile, “but ask away…”
“Well, Sir - this one is a bit more personal...About your manuscript - Are you committed to that title? Fantastic Beasts: A Guide to the Magical Creatures that Inhabit Our World. It's quite a mouthful.”
Newt looked defensive.
“How about Fantastic Beasts and Where They Are...it's shorter and it captures both the fascinating details about the creatures and the adventures you had in finding and discovering them in your travels.”
“You read my manuscript?”
“Yes, Sir, I’m sorry, Sir, not the whole thing, obviously, but I came across it while...you know...searching your bag, I couldn’t help it, as a published author myself…”
“You are a published author? You are full of surprises, Constable.”
“Yes, Sir - I’ve written Curse of the Pharaohs , as well as the Jumping Jack series...I’m working on two others now, one about a swashbuckling archeologist and another...well...yes, I’m a published author.”
“I’d like to read your works someday, Constable...it only seems fair after all. You read my fledgling manuscript...Well as a published author, what do you think?”
Scamander looked vulnerable as he looked at Crabtree.
“At the time I read it of course I thought it was a work of fantasy, knowing it is factual, I cannot speak to the validity of the information. From a reader’s perspective, however, it is informative and engaging, and your tone is both sincere and humorous, I thoroughly enjoyed what I read.”
“Really?” He said, hopeful as a puppy.
“Yes, just that title it has to go.”
Scamander chuckled. “I suppose you’re right.”
“That section on lethifolds…”
“Yes, nasty buggers…”
“Did you really fend one off with a tea kettle?”
“Yes actually. I kept it at bay until I was able to cast a patronus.”
“What’s a patronus?” asked Watts, totally engrossed in Newt’s words.
“It’s a powerful protection charm - it uses a positive memory to create a shield around the caster - the shield usually takes the form of an animal that best represents one’s identity.”
“Can you show us?” asked George excitedly.
“Later perhaps, in private...it’s certainly not a spell to cast in public...it’s hardly subtle...unless I’d like to find myself arrested by the aurors.”
They’d found their way back to City Hall. The area was now deserted except for a few curious civilians trying to catch a glimpse of the destruction.
“This is what we think was the epicenter of the blast,” said Watts leading them to the place where they found the footprints. Scamander dropped to the ground and examined the marks very carefully.
“This is an incredibly powerful obscurus...I...I hope we’re not too late,” he said softly.
“The footprints?” asked Watts.
“I didn’t see anything like this the last time. When the….when…”
Watts nodded carefully.
Scamander paused and poked at a clod of soot, frowning to himself. “Did you notice any children around here when the explosion happened?” he asked of them.
“Yes, actually. There were a group of boys sprawled out not far from here…” Watts said, remembering suddenly, “Do you think one of them…”
“It's possible. Were any of them affiliated with the New Salem Society?”
“I can’t be certain. It all happened so quickly. The boy, Credence, the lad who bumped into you, was here as well. His siblings and the other children were scattered in the crowd. It could have been any number of them.”
Newt nodded to himself, as if confirming his suspicion.
“It would have to be a child of less than twelve years old...the Barebone boy is about fourteen or fifteen by my estimation,” said Newt thoughtfully.
“The youngest Barebone child, Modesty, she’s a little...unsettling,” said Watts.
“How do you mean?” asked Newt curiously, looking up at him intently from his position on the ground.
“She seems intense. She tends to stare at you without blinking...she also was very happy about “preaching” - I heard her singing a little song to herself about...erm...killing witches. Is that normal for obscurials?”
“It’s hard to say,” said Newt sadly. “Obscurials are just ordinary children born with magical abilities until they experience the trauma that causes them to reject their magic. It’s hard to say how a child behaves - how they cope with abuse.”
“The New Salem Society is a bleak and hopeless place. The Reverend and Miss Barebone raised the children with hatred and fear of magic, and the constant threat of violence,” said Watts bitterly.
“A place like that would certainly be a toxic place for any child, especially one who has magic...could you imagine the constant fear? It would be agony,” said Newt softly.
He had them stand guard before subtly casting the tracking charm. Apparently it made some sort of sense to Newt who stood abruptly.
“Well, there’s a lot of information here...so many people running around in a panic, but there certainty was an obscurus here...Its presence is like a dark void from an energy point of view. Anyone who knows what to look for would have spotted it instantly.”
“Is it still...alive?” asked George, gently.
Scamander nodded. “It was very powerful and well...I fear we don’t have much time…”
Watts glanced at the City Hall clocktower. “We have three quarters of an hour before we are to meet with Detective Murdoch...let’s try to track down some of your creatures in the meantime? Do you have any leads?”
“It’s hard to be 100% certain, but I found traces of some of my missing creatures. We can start with Nick I suppose...are there any jewellery stores nearby? Or anything vaguely shiny?” Scamander began to walk “preferably in this direction?” He called out to them.
Watts and Crabtree exchanged a look before taking off after the magizoologist.
* * * * * * *