Chapter 5
“How are we, Madam Picquery?” Grindelwald spoke loudly as he conjured two chairs in front of the cell and sat down in one, gesturing towards Graves to sit in the other.
Graves sat uneasily, not taking his eyes off his closest friend even as he sensed Grindelwald settling himself in the seat to his left.
With a wave, Grindelwald dismissed the guards surrounding the cell.
“So. It’s just us now.” He smiled, cocking his head at the former president. “Director Graves here has been helping me greatly. I’m sure you of all people know how talented he is.” Grindelwald leaned back in his chair while Graves barely paid attention. Instead he scanned Sera up and down. Was she injured? Or sick? She wouldn’t meet his eyes, only glared at Grindelwald.
“Well, we thought we’d pay you a little visit.” Grindelwald twirled his wand in his hand, looking perfectly at ease. While Sera was languishing in that cell. Bastard.
“In fact…” Grindelwald turned, eyes flashing with something dangerous. “I’m rather eager to get to know you.”
Finally Sera turned her gaze on Graves, for a fraction of a second before speaking. “I won’t tell you anything. I believe I’ve made that clear”
Grindelwald chuckled. “Oh no, Madam Picquery. Nothing like that. No need for state secrets. I’m just curious… when did you and the Director meet? It was in school, no?”
Graves snapped his attention back to Grindelwald. What the hell? What was he playing at?
Sera stayed silent. Good for her.
“Not interested in answering the question?” Grindelwald leaned forward, paused, then sent a crackle of light hurtling towards Sera, striking her in the chest.
She screamed and Graves’s heart broke. Without thinking, he stood up, on his way to help her. Every instinct he had was begging him to help her, disarm Grindelwald, stop the horrible screams. But, halfway out of his chair, he caught himself. Sits down. Balls his hands into fists and buries the churning in his stomach.
Finally, Grindelwald lifted the curse, leaning back in his seat. “How about now?” He drawled, slow and smooth, but eyes steely. But Sera just stared, catching her breath. Out of the corner of his eye, Graves caught the movement of Grindelwald’s wand.
“Wait!” Graves called. “Stop, it’s—“
“At Ilvermony.” Graves turned around to see Sera looking at him, a nearly imperceptible nod as she spoke to Grindelwald. “My third year. His first.”
Grindelwald smiled. “Lovely. See, isn’t this better.” He relaxed into the chair again, putting his wand down. Graves breathed a sigh of relief and sat back down. If this was what Grindelwald wanted to do, fine. Better than him lashing out at Sera. Suddenly, Grindelwald turned to Graves. “Tell me more.”
Graves cleared his throat. “Well, we met in the dueling club.” He paused. Grindelwald met his eyes with a barely concealed smirk. Waiting. He continued. Anyway, the more time he talked, the less Grindelwald’s attention would be drawn to Sera.
“We got into an argument. About whether the club rules should be changed to allow wandless magic.”
“Ah. And who won out?”
“She did. Wands only, for a proper duel.”
“And you were both top of your class, weren’t you, Madam Picquery? Recruited for MACUSA right out of school?”
Sera glared. “Yes.”
“Wonderful. I never did finish school myself. Many late nights spent studying and training, I’d expect?”
“Of course.”
Satisfied. Grindelwald turned to Graves once again.
“You two must have grown quite close. When she ran for president, she had your full support as Chief Auror. That certainly meant something.”
Graves shifted in his seat. “I suppose. Yes.”
Grindelwald smirked. “I must say, this has been illuminating. Who knew the Director here had such a past? Yet we must not lose sight of the purpose of this visit. As you know, you have been convicted of treason and crimes against wizarding society. Director Graves, what is the sentence for these crimes?”
He cannot take much more of this. What is Grindelwald getting here, besides some sort of sick test of loyalty? He steadied his shaking hands before replying. “Execution. Public.”
Sera, thank Merlin for her own quiet strength, does not react. Stares straight ahead, at some point beyond Grave’s head.
“And in a few days, Director Graves will do the honors himself.” Grindelwald stood up and brushed the stale dust of the prison off his slacks. Dismissing the chairs with a wave of his hand, he turned to the former president again. “Goodbye, Madam Picquery.” Gesturing Graves to walk ahead of him, the two men walked down the hall.
-
Hours later, still with a sour taste in his mouth and his tie loose around his neck, Graves met the Goldstein girl in a no-maj bakery.
“It’s safe. I’m positive.” She had whispered to him before, but he hadn’t known it was this secure. They were seated in the back room, where the sacks of flour and sugar surrounded a small table, messy with receipts and scribbled orders. With a firm nod, her friend— or, maybe more?— closed the door, leaving them to speak alone while he went about his business outside.
Despite the grimness of the situation, Queenie smiled looking towards the door. “He’s a good one, Jacob.”
Graves sighed, running his hand through his hair with a twinge of guilt. “I hope he’s aware of how much danger we’re putting him in.”
“He offered, Mr. Graves. He knows.” She attempted a reassuring smile. “Now, tell me what happened.”
“Well…nothing.”
“Nothing?”
Graves grit his teeth. “He…made me sit there. With her. The President. And just…talk.” He sighed, rubbing at the splitting headache from the past 24 hours. “There was some torture, of course. Standard for him. But not much. He just asked questions. About school and Auror training. Nothing important. I think he thinks he can almost…break me this way.”
Queenie furrowed her brow. “So it’s true. He suspects something. He’s trying to wear you down.”
Graves nodded. “It’s even more crucial that we act soon, then.” He paused, starting ahead for a moment. “I would like to apologize, Ms. Goldstein, for my distraction right now. I just… I couldn’t live with myself if anything happens to her, let alone if I am the one—“
“Please, Mr. Graves. Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault. Anyway, I believe we can fix this. And please, call me Queenie. I reckon we’ve been through enough at this point.” She smiled softly.
Graves let out a humorless laugh. “Of course. You’re right. You’re right, Queenie.” What would he do without her?
He shuffles some of the old napkins and notepads, waves over a pen from across the room. “Alright, here’s the plan.”