Unstoppable

Percival Graves was still at the Ministry of Magic. His team of aurors and security detail which usually stood at his side he had dismissed hours ago, ordering them to get some rest back at the hotel. He however, sent by President Picquery to investigate and being the sole representative of the American wizarding community, stayed put, along with a small security detail, looking ready to leave.

He had a growing suspicion that some of his aurors had found their way to the nearest bar instead of their hotel. He would have to deal with that in the morning.

Percival leaned forward in his leather armchair, running his hand through his sleek dark hair. This round of talks was nearing an end, the British Minister of Security shaking hands with the surrounding bureaucrats. It had all been for nothing. They were no closer to any leads on the Grindelwald situation. In fact, every meeting, review, and interrogation Percival had conducted since arriving in Europe had turned out to be a waste of time.

Shrugging on his long black coat, Percival headed for the door. He heard several calls of "Goodnight, Director!" as he walked through the halls, answering back a simple "Goodnight." on his way out into the cold London air.

Percival had another meeting. This meeting, however, was with a source he had contacted, an ordinary wizard, who claimed to have witnessed one of Grindelwald's attacks in Bulgaria. There was a part of his mind that called to him, a nagging suspicion. Why had this man insisted on meeting so late? It was strange, to be sure, but it was the only lead Percival had found in a long time. Besides, Percival could handle himself. He was, of course, a trained auror, and one of the best at that. Perhaps a little overconfident at times, as evidenced by his "unnecessary" (as the President had dubbed it many times) use of wandless magic. He thought of the time Madame President had kicked him out of a security briefing when he kept using his hands to show her a map of Europe and cast simple charms. "You have a beautiful wand, Graves, it's a shame you never use it!" she had said, clearly irritated. They spent almost an hour after work debating the pros and cons of wandless magic over whiskey in her office, with Percival finally backing down. She was the President, after all.

Percival almost smiled at the memory. Seraphina was one of the few people he felt knew him. He had known her since their first days in Ilvermony, and they had been equals in competition throughout their school days, the top duellers in their class, both recruited straight out of senior year by MACUSA to be aurors. Seraphina drifted towards politics, while Percival climbed the ranks to his current position as Director of Magical Security. When Seraphina was elected as President, he was the first to leave a bottle of champagne with a congratulatory note on her desk.

"Sir?" an auror behind him snapped him back to the present. He whipped around, "Right, let's go on the count of three. Stevenson, you're on No-maj duties."

Percival Apparated to the park, with the aurors following close behind.

It was dark, with the crude No-maj streetlamps giving off a faded yellow glow, barely illuminating a foot in front of him. Percival cautiously continued down the path, his shiny black shoes crunching leaves underfoot. There was no one in sight, nobody called out or made any movement. Percival understood a contact wanting anonymity, but every one of his carefully honed senses was calling out to him that something did not seem right. "Wands out. And some light please. " He reached for his own wand, his fingers resting on the slick ebony. Percival was confident in his impressive wandless magic skill, but he had to give it to Seraphina, sometimes a wand was the wiser choice.

It was utterly without warning. From behind. A flash of light, and before Percival could whip around, lightning-fast, every one of his aurors was on the ground. The shock barely registered, not even a millisecond passed before he felt it.

Electricty. Searing pain traveling up and down his body, making him collapse on the cobblestone path. It was from behind, the shock sending tremors through his system.

All his expertise, all his auror training, all his raw power were of no use. The surprise attack brought Percival to his knees in seconds. He was alone, the bodies of his aurors surrounding. Stunned, only a loop of get up, get up, get up, fight back replaying in his head. He didn't know how. All he knew was that he needed to arrest the attacker, immediately.

Get up, fight back.

Percival struggled to point his wand in the air, his arm shaking from the Cruciatus curse and the shock. It was useless. He fired off spells in any direction he could, his usual accuracy gone with the shock and panic descending on him.

Then, streaking out of the darkness, another. Percival screamed, writhing on the ground, feeling the electricity shoot through his body. There was no doubt in his mind that this was a powerful wizard. Certainly as skilled as Percival, maybe even more so. There were not many in the world who were more skilled than Percival, unless the attacker was--unless it really was him, the man he'd been hunting down for months. Unless it was Grindelwald.

At this thought Graves's limbs went cold, and a hint of fear wound its way into his heart. No one could ever say Percival was a coward. In fact, he was commended for fighing bravely in the Great War and in his daily capacity as Director. And he intended to fight bravely now, although he struggled to raise his wand again.

Get up. Fight. Fight.

Lying in a heap in the middle of a No-maj park, Percival slowly, agonizingly lifted himself up, taking advantage of the sudden ceasefire. He knew in his ingrained memory of auror protocol that it was quite possibly the worst choice given the situation, but his mind, still stunned, could not control the impulse to stand up and face his attacker.

He had to do his job.

Percival stood up almost completely, leaning on a park bench with one arm while holding up his wand, trembling, with the other. He managed to shoot off a weak, frazzled hex in his attacker's general direction. Without any warning, a blunt force knocked him unceremoniously back down to the ground and he felt his wand fly roughly out of his hands.

Then, a voice called out from the dark, a voice he had heard a million times before, in various recordings and interrogation tapes. He heard a cruel chuckle. "I think that's quite enough for tonight, Director."