Heavy Lies the Head that Wears the Crown:

Iris tore at her cuticles nervously as she waited outside the President's office. Though she wished for nothing more than to leave MCUSA and go directly to the hospital, her report on Percival's memories could not wait.

Without notice, the door opened a crack in a cold invitation to enter. Straightening all the invisible wrinkles from her clothes, Iris stepped inside the black marbled office. This once hallowed ground now inspired fear in her. She knew how MACUSA ran inside and out. There was no room for faltering, no forgiveness for mistakes, and Percival had made several in the time of his captivity.

Picquery stood on the other side of her desk, trying to seem casual as she offered to call for some coffee to be brought up for Iris. There was a distance in her voice, however, one that acknowledged the grim subject of her visit.

"You have the final report on Mr. Graves, I take it?" She asked, skipping over any further pleasantries.

Iris nodded in affirmation. She had spent hours preparing what to say. The wrong words could immediately change the outcome of the situation. Iris was certain she had the precise answers that would protect Percival.

"I can confirm that Mr. Graves was taken by Grindelwald against his will and tortured for information on MACUSA. During his imprisonment, he did not give up any information to the enemy. There was no tampering of these memories in any way. I am certain of this."

Iris continued to detail the memories she had seen, even down the moment where Percival thought Grindelwald had taken her captive as well. Her face burned the whole time. Once she was finished there was a deafening silence. Picquery slowly paced the room once, considering Iris's assessment, before returning to her desk. Iris held her breath the entire time. With a sigh, the president finally spoke.

"There is nothing more that can be done. It is a shame, really. Percival did what he thought was right at the time- and so must I in this moment." She concluded.

Iris felt as if she were about to be sick. She clenched her hands firmly in front of her. The pain of her nails digging into her palms was a stern reminder to keep herself grounded. She could not break in this moment. Picquery continued delivering her verdict.

"Mr. Graves will be removed from his position as Director of the DMLE. Your temporary assignment will be made permanent."

Iris's heart froze in her chest. She had not convicted him of anything, not sentenced him to prison, still the judgement was wholly unfair. "Madam President, I advise against this. Mr. Graves has done nothing to deserve this."

"Of course not," Picquery calmly agreed, her hands gracefully placed on the great mahogany desk in front of her. "However, he is no longer capable of being the Director."

Iris shook her head, not accepting this betrayal. "People will say he's a traitor, ma'am."

"Some, yes. But the fact that he will not be placed under arrest is a testament to the truth- that Mr. Graves is a fallen soldier, not a criminal. Now you must carry on in his place. Are you capable of doing that, Miss Faeborn?" It felt as if the president was challenging her to say no, to put a flaming torch to her own life in defense of Percival.

She wanted to. Just to show her exactly what she thought of this whole asinine situation. But then she felt a tug back to reality, back to the threat that still sat in the holding cells below. Grindelwald was still in their custody. Never was there a more dangerous or irresponsible time to leave her post. She knew Grindelwald's plans were far from finished and that, somehow, he was making her a part of them. She couldn't leave until the matter was settled.

"You can trust me, Madam President." Speaking those words felt like chewing on grit.

"Good. There is one more condition regarding Mr. Graves's release."

Iris braced herself for what would be the cruelest order of all.

Iris treaded lightly through the fresh snowfall in Central Park, her feet kept warm by a charm her father taught her when she was a girl. As she came upon the bridge, she spotted Percival by the railing, watching the ice-skaters weaving around one another on the frozen river below. Seeing him there, alive and waiting for her no less, would have been a dream in any other circumstance. But this was not a happy meeting.

He spotted her as she approached and turned to greet her with a bitter-sweet tug of his lips as she stopped at the railing alongside him.

"I'm sorry," she told him. Being the first to speak. Her gaze fell on the sling his wand arm lay in. Several of his fingers were still badly bruised.

"Don't be. Retirement's a gift," he said, his breath visible in the cold. "Picquery could have tried me for treason if she wanted."

Iris bit her lip, trying her best not to launch into a heated tirade against their boss. "You did nothing wrong. This isn't fair."

"It never is," Percival told her before he stepped back from the bannister and offered her his good arm. His expression softened as she took it.

She gripped hold of him tightly, keeping close to him under the guise of fortifying herself against the bitter chill in the air. There were no illusions regarding the dreariness of the occasion, however. Iris knew he was only putting on a good face for her. He was forced to step down from his position in disgrace, leaving MACUSA in the middle of an international nightmare. There wasn't anything to say and nothing to be done.

"If it has to be this way, I'm glad it's you," he told her, his gaze fixed on her as they walked. He was nervous for what was to come and he didn't want to lose sight of her face. He wished to somehow commit it to memory.

Iris felt her chest clench and her throat tighten with the troublesome impulse to cry. Her hands were trembling, giving her away. What a betrayal, she thought, upset that she could not be strong for both of them in this moment. You are an Auror, act like one, she berated herself; all-the-while knowing that was only a fraction of who she was.

Cutting through the tension, he spoke her name, his voice soft with concern. She finally looked at him then. Tears streaked down her face as her façade crumbled.

"How can you be so strong?" She choked. Snowy motes slowly drifted down around them as they stopped on the side of the path.

"I'm not," he confessed, wrapping her up in his arms. His scarred fingers buried themselves in her hair. She could hear his heart beating wildly beneath the wool coat he wore. "Believe me, I'm not."

Her chest and head hurt, everything in her hurt. She knew he wasn't coming back, that he was going to slip out of sight and out of her life forever. He had been broken by what had happened and, in turn, it had been the very thing that broke her.

"I'm not going to do it," she told him resolutely.

"You have to," he insisted. If she didn't, she would be arrested. To disobey the president's orders was treason.

Iris curtly flicked her tears from her cheeks, her firm gaze boring into his. "I'm not doing that to you." She said firmly, unmoving on the matter.

"Iris," he murmured, gently taking hold of her shoulders. Despite her determination, she was trembling. He had never seen her like this before- so sad and angry. A woman who'd lost all faith. It tore at his heart, weakening his resolve. "Everything will be alright. But you have to do as Picquery ordered."

Percival wanted to protect her. When he thought Grindelwald had taken her prisoner, that became all that mattered to him. Now that he was being exiled from the DMLE, it was the only thing he could hope to do before leaving. His heart sank.

"Alright," he breathed, pulling away. "It's time."

Iris took out her wand and leveled it at him, her hand shaking. She hesitated, her heart was pounding in her head, her breath hitching painfully with every intake. The word repeated over and over again in her mind. Obliviate. But it was the last thing she would allow to form on her tongue.

"Iris."

When he called her name, Iris looked into his dark eyes. His soft, mournful, gaze pleaded with her to do as she was ordered so she would not endanger herself. Her heart seized in her chest as she thought about those beautiful eyes, the ones she had become so accustomed to over the years, never recognizing her again.

"You deserve a full life, Percival. I only wish that I could spend the rest of it with you."

Before he could respond, Iris dissaperated, leaving only a small rush of snow from where she'd been standing. Percival made to run forwards, follow her all the way back to MACUSA if he could, but stopped himself. This was all she could give him, he realized. The gift of his memory.

Percival knew he should leave the city now and go into hiding. Still, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the high heeled footprints in the snow imprinted alongside his own.

If only he could have told her he shared her wish… maybe then he would have shuffled off to Central Station and boarded a train, never to see her again. Instead, he walked up the path towards the bridge, following her footprints.

Back at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Iris stood in front of her fellow Aurors once more, addressing them now as their new Director. In the absence of Percival Graves, some looked to her with unwavering confidence others with nervous uncertainty. It did not matter what they thought, however. Not even she could escape the roll placed upon her by Picquery.

"I don't believe in big speeches, so I will make this brief. The President has decided to appoint me the permanent Director of the DMLE. I will be firm but fair and always act in your best interests as well as the best interests of this department. Now, we all have a lot of work to do. Let's get back to it." Iris gave her team one last look before making for her office.

If they were not all convinced that ice ran in her veins before, she certainly hoped they got the message now. Iris Faeborn was to be left alone. Her office door, the one that once belonged to Percival, closed heavily behind her.

Each player in this brutal game were now leaving the battlefield. The dust had settled and MACUSA had won. Pieces were sacrificed, pawns, queen and knight. Iris stared out the window, the same one which her father's owl had delivered the Cloak of Invisibility.

She could feel the presence of that snake, Grindelwald, beneath her feet- hundreds of floors below where she stood. Yet, even though he was buried in a cell beneath the earth, she knew for certain that another battle was on the horizon. A different game to be sure; to be held on a different battlefield. But it would come. As sure as she was breathing. As sure as the tears that came to her eyes as her careworn gaze floated out beyond the city.

With one blink they streaked down her face and onto her white coat. Black vs White, she thought, mentally placing the fallen pieces back on her board; assigning new names and faces to each position.

Marcus Abbernath- Rook

Tina Goldstien- Knight

Manny Aldrich- Bishop

She was certain Grindelwald was resetting his board too. Making moves in the darkness. She had to win every time. As she had witness firsthand, the cost of losing was too high. There was no other choice. Nor was there a battlefield she would rather fight on. White vs Black. Iris Faeborn vs Gellert Grindelwald. This is what he left her when she inherited the Queen's position. So, she would gather her bishops, her knights and her rooks, rally her army to her side, and wait for his next move.

AN: It's been a long while, but I kinda wanted to return to this story after having seen how poorly the Fantastic Beasts series is being handled. Don't get me wrong, I love Mads, but with all the drama outside AND inside the franchise as well as the bad storytelling, I really wanted to try writing for HP again and see if it would bring me some kind of joy or closure. I have mixed feelings. I also had a vision for this story and a plan on where it was going which is incredibly AU/cannon divergent at this point. So I'm posting this chapter to see if anyone is still interested in reading my take on the Grindelwald timeline. Leave a review with your thoughts.