Chapter two : Welcome to England.

The door closed behind Graves as he stood in the living room of his new flat in London. A sigh of relief escaped him when he saw the empty space in front of him. He put down his two bags and closed his eyes for a few seconds, enjoying the caress of the sun filtering through the windows. It felt so reassuring after the time he had spent in a dark damp cell. Now it was warm and sunny, he had space to move. He was free and it was a nice feeling to be finally where he wanted after a month of struggling to settle all his affairs. He was the Head of Magical Law Enforcement; that could not come without a lot of responsibilities and work. He had always had to check his aurors' reports, looking for clues that could set them on a path to solve a case. Or he would be the one talking with Madam President. It had taken most of his time for years and he could not remember a time without work to do, except his time locked up far from the world. He knew that Goldstein would do a great job replacing him; she had helped to stop Grindelwald and find Percival in his prison after all. Sure she was a little bit clumsy, but it was mostly because she felt awkward around him or people higher in rank than herself. He had trained her and she was one of his best aurors. But an auror that had not been able to notice something was off with him when he had been impersonated…

No, he should not think about that now that he was beginning a new life. A life far from the busy streets of New-York, far from the street he had been attacked in. He had a new job at the British ministry of Magic, a new goal. After nine years of trying to cope with the pain and the anguish, after nine years of being looked at as if he was suddenly going to kill someone, he had something to do, with no one to supervise him…

He opened his eyes again and flicked his wand. Immediately, all the walls turned a beautiful white, except the one made of bricks, and the dirt vanished. He opened one of his bags and began to magically take out his reduced furniture and return it to its original size. He was glad the kitchenette was already furnished because he would not have been able to build it by himself…

Two sofas, some armchairs, a coffee table and a large bookcase were all he needed for now. Maybe he would have some plants later, a bit of green in a room tended to calm people and he knew he needed it. Something to soothe him. Furthermore, he could not deny that having a few plants could be of some use for making potions.
He climbed the wooden stairs up to the mezzanine were he began to place his large dark desk and shelves, but he made sure to leave an area clear of everything in order to keep exercising.

He then went into the bedroom, the door of which was close to his desk. Again, with a move of his wand he painted his walls, but in black this time, installed his furniture and placed a mirror. He was not a conceited man but after his time in jail, he found it reassuring to see his reflection. It was a way to verify he was still himself, healthy and in a place he knew; not in a cold jail, famished and hopeless.

He felt his hands shaking and his breath suddenly ran short. That dark, damp and tiny room he had had to live in for months. He could feel the cold against his skin, crawling like a thousand spiders again. He tottered, attacked by images from the time spent alone, craving for freedom at first, then just for some food and water…. He could not breathe. He could not stand. All was haziness, a black and infinite hole in which his mind was whirling in vain.

He would have fallen down if he had not reached instinctively for the wall. A hard wall, not damp. Dry. Not his cell. He had to open his eyes. He had to breathe. It was nine years ago. He was safe now… He could see the different tints of black in the room, the glossy aspect of the walls, the reassuring cream-coloured furniture, the shy light of the sun on his skin. He was safe. He leant his head against the cool wall. Safe…

Those anxiety attacks had to stop. He had nothing to be afraid of. He was well settled in London, had carried out a money transfer from his bank to Gringotts, he had a job, he knew what he had to do here. He had a goal for the first time in years and it was more important than anything.

The British Minister for Magic, Hector Fawley, had agreed to give Percival two weeks to lead an investigation into the strange events happening around London and on the shore, but once the two weeks were over, he would have to go to work at the ministry. He was not displeased with this new arrangement. He would work with the aurors half of his time, the other half would serve the cooperation between the magical American society and the British one. Furthermore, he would have two days off every week so he would be able to lead his inquiry into the obscurial on his own. He was not as tied down as he had been in his own country since the Grindelwald incident.

When he had been set free, he had worked even harder than before, trying to make up for the actions of the dark wizard, while knowing perfectly well that nothing would be enough to change the opinions of those around him, or to satisfy himself. He was also aware he was being watched constantly, people fearing he would lose control and act like the wizard who had impersonated him for months. Now he was freed from this pressure and could act the way he wanted. And the first thing he had decided to do on his quest for an obscurial was to go to the shore where a boy had been saved from a storm by an unknown woman.

The next day, Percival Graves stood in front of his looking glass, knotting a burgundy tie. Today, he was going to Brighton in the hope of finding someone able to give him more information about what had happened two months before he arrived in Great Britain. He surely looked no-maj enough to avoid drawing attention to himself, he should not worry, he often had been in contact with no-majs when he was in New-York, why would it be different here ?

He put on a disillusionment charm and apparated to the shore he remembered seeing in the newspapers. He felt the habitual sense of being compressed before he could breathe freely again and open his eyes. He could hear the waves colliding with the black pebbles, he could see the white foam swaying on the dark blue expanse. No one was to be seen on the shore, surely because of the wind that was howling like a pack of hungry wolves.

For a while, Percival looked around him to make sure he was not observed, then he lifted the charm concealing him from the world's gaze. He let a sigh escape from his lips at the idea of being forced to talk to no-majs in order to find out more about what had happened. He had nothing against them, but he knew he had an American accent and that he would seem suspect. He would have to carry on with his plan and make them believe he was a newcomer who wanted to settle in the area but having heard of the incident on the beach had become unsure. He needed more information about it, before deciding whether…

When he looked toward the coast and the beginning of the town, he noticed a path leading from the beach to the first houses that were visible from where he stood. He decided to take the path, wanting to reach the first habitations as soon as possible.
Two months after the storm, he still could see the damages it had caused : some front gardens had been battered by the strength of the disaster. Was he right in believing it was the work of an obscurial ? Maybe it was just a storm and nothing magical had caused it. Maybe it was all part of his imagination and of his desire to redeem himself. What if he was wrong ? What if there was no obscurial at all in Great Britain? He would have done all these things for nothing? It might not be for nothing, at least he was where Grindelwald was, in Europe. He would be able to act… As long as he did not act like he had before… If he was not as weak as when he had been attacked in this street.
Now that he was in front of a door, he was being hesitant. It was so stupid ! Percival Graves, the former Head of Magical Law Enforcement was being hesitant in front of a no-maj door. Why? Was he so desperate to have his ideas proved right that he was almost unable to knock for fear of being wrong ? He was from MACUSA Mercy Lewis ! What the hell was wrong with him ? He was from Wampus' house, he was not a coward and he had already reflected on his plan. It would be alright.

He knocked and took a step back so as not to seem too invasive. It took a moment for someone to come and open the door. A moment during which Percival was able to put up a mask of shyness. It felt like spying on those New Salem Philanthropic Society fanatics again and strangely enough, it felt good to him. Just like the time before he was held captive. Free to use the way he chose to get things done.

A forty or so year-old woman appeared on the threshold, nervously eyeing him as if he was a potential danger. Why did she look so nervous ? Was it a disreputable place ? Percival tried a little smile in her direction and spoke immediately to reassure her.

"I am sorry to disturb you madam. I am new here and I heard about the sea storm. I was wondering if it was something usual here… You see, I want to find a house here but… I don't think I could handle such events."

He saw worry in her eyes at the mention of the storm. So she had surely witnessed it and would surely be a good way to gain new information. But her little step back, her gaze… She seemed hesitant to talk to him; surely she did not like strangers and as he was one, she was being wary. And after all, he was an American, an isolationist whose country had only helped when threatened during the no-majs world war…

"It was something really unusual but I am sure you will find more information at the town hall. They are more likely to help you than me."

He saw her move to close the door. He could not let her do that. He needed to know more. What the boy looked like, what really happened that day and what the boy has become.

"Please. I need you. You know they will do their job and will likely tell me any old story to persuade me to buy a house here. I really want to know."

He made his voice sound pleading, as if he was lost and she represented his only hope. She stopped in her movements, looking at him, as if to judge if he was lying or not, but Percival Graves was an auror, he had known for years how to put on a good mask and how to deceive someone.

"Well. It is the first time it happened since I have been here, but the storm was really impressive and there was a lot of damage. We were terrified by it and by the cries that could be heard. There was a boy you see. But a woman rescued him. That's all I know. I hope never to see that again."

It was what he had read in the newspapers, the only new piece of information was that the boy that had been rescued was terrified, so it meant that either he was not responsible for it at all or he did not know he was responsible for it. He tried to seem horrified by what she said, and it seemed to work because she was looking at him more kindly.

"The… The boy ? Do… Do you know if he is all right?"

His voice shivered when he spoke. He knew he must be all right because no one talked about the recent death of a young boy. But he had to play his role, to dupe her to gain more information. He had to know if this boy was an obscurial or not. If he was, he was in grave danger; from himself and surely from Grindelwald and his fanatics. If there was something Graves knew very well, it was that being under Grindelwald's control was the most dreadful experience one could undergo.

"I'm sorry but I don't, sir. What I know is that the woman went to Camden's house, number 9. He would be able to help you if you truly care. Now I bid you a good day."

She slammed the door shut. Graves stood there, outraged and incredulous. How did she dare to slam the door? To him ? An urgent need to hex her filled his mind, but he forced himself to calm down. He did not want to have problems with the Ministry of Magic, he had worked too hard to ruin all of his plans like that.

He took a deep breath, turned around and walked away, looking for the ninth house to gain more information about the boy. If he was lucky, he would not be treated the same way again.

A rictus appeared on his lips while thinking of this woman. What a lonely and boring life she must have to act like this with strangers who were only looking for help. Despite the fact he was on another continent, people were just the same. It was always the same game of cat and mouse; he had to lie and use his skills at their best to make people confess and give him what he wanted. Humans were all the same, trying to overcome hardships of life. Only their way of doing it would change, but they were all the same : easily corrupted, craving a better life and unable to be satisfied with what they had; trying to hide their personality so as not to be fully understood by a stranger. What they did not know was that they understood each other without even noticing, because they all had the same fundamental needs; and that was what mattered when you were doing Graves' job: playing on these needs.

He was in front of the house. He walked to the door and knocked on it, hoping someone would come. He bit his lips, faking an awkwardness he didn't actually feel. The door opened slowly and he caught glimpses of white before it was fully open. The old man facing him seemed questioning, but a kind smile lighted his wrinkled face and made his green eyes twinkle.

"What can I help you with young man ? I don't remember seeing you around here." He asked.

Graves took care of passing a hand on his neck and biting his lips one more time before he answered the man.

"I… I am sorry to bother you but I was talking to one of your neighbours to find out if buying a house here was a good idea or not. She told me about the storm and as she was mentioning a child, I grew worried about him. You see… Erm… I am a teacher so I do care about children… She said I had to ask you for more information to find out if the child is all right. But now I stand in front of you, I feel I sound like a perfect idiot and shouldn't have disturbed you… Maybe I… "

He lowered his head and took a step backward, but a firm hand posed on his shoulder, preventing him to go away. He repressed his smile, knowing his ruse had worked perfectly with the old man, and looked at him hesitantly. Once again, he was meeting the green orbs which had so much generosity in them the thought of lying almost unnerved the former Head of Magical Law. He knew it was unfair, but sometimes, he had to act this way to get things he needed and solve a case.

"Don't be sorry boy ! Come in."

The old man made a move to let him pass and Percival entered the house, following the no-maj to the cosy living room all painted in pale aqua blue. Pictures of a beautiful lady and of younger people were hung on the wall, betraying a loving man, living alone and thinking of his family. A black coffee table surrounded by three armchairs and a sofa were what the living room was mostly composed of. It gave the house a sober and yet comfortable character.

"Would you have some tea and biscuits while you tell me where you come from ? Then I will tell you about the boy. And about the neighbourhood as you want to settle here." Proposed the man.

Tea. Typically English. Percival had a liking for stronger drinks like black coffee. It was much more pleasant than this water with a little aroma to it and milk. Coffee was what was helping him staying awake during hours of administrative work. Coffee was what was preventing him from falling asleep and being engulfed in nightmares he could not get rid of…

"If it is not too much to ask, may I have coffee sir ?" He asked.

" No problem my boy. My name is James Camden, but please call me by my first name. What about you ?"

He gave the wizard a smile and went into the kitchen, whichPercival could see from where he stood. Everything was the same colour which he found depressing more than soothing, but it was still better than the complete lack of colour he had known in his cell. He briefly closed his eyes to try and get it out of his mind. He had a question to answer after all.

"Kenneth Ward."

It was one of the many different identities he had made up during his time spent working for MACUSA.

"You don't have an accent from around here. Where do you come from, the United-States?"

He knew his accent would not go unnoticed by the inhabitants, so he had made up a story about why he was in England. He looked at the floor with a saddened air he tried to make as genuine as possible. But after all, it was not that hard to do when thinking of the death of Credence or of the things he had lost over the years… He was a lonely man, with no child or woman or family, dedicated to his job, without anyone really helping him after his time in jail, except for the Goldstein sisters. It was quite depressing.

"Yes, I was living here but my fiancée… She died in a fire accident… I tried to keep up with my job… But all the things around me reminded me of her. I… I decided to leave the country to begin a whole new life."

He played nervously with his hands for a moment and then raised his head when he heard James' footsteps. The green eyes were full of compassion. A compassion Graves knew he did not deserve. He had not lost a fiancée; he had no one in his life. The only person he had lost was a child he had wanted to protect, and it was his fault the child had been killed. He did not deserve this sweetness, on the contrary, he deserved to be constantly reminded of his faults.

" I am so sorry my boy. And I didn't even offer you a seat. Please, make yourself comfortable."

Percival sat in one of the armchairs as he was asked to. The child had been killed. He had been incapable of escaping, how could he simply believe he would be able to save this one ? If he had failed once, could he not fail twice ? He had no experience with the obscurials and was not sure how he should deal with one… He was good at solving cases, resolving crisis, but he had never taken care of a child and he was not sure he would be able to be a soothing presence. However, he had to try.

The sound of the cups being set down on the wooden coffee table, cut off his gloomy train of thought. He looked up at the man sitting in front of him who gave him a little smile. Percival adopted a forced smile before taking his cup of coffee. The smell of the drink gave him comfort and enough will to engage the conversation.

" Don't be sorry. Thank you for allowing me to come in and for agreeing to answer my questions. "

"It's normal my boy. The kid had been through so much it is reassuring to meet someone who seems to genuinely care about him. Because you do care, don't you ? You are not one of those journalists waiting to find the juiciest information and publish it? The boy doesn't deserve to be displayed in newspapers. He really doesn't. "

Oh no. He was far from being a journalist and he was very glad to have chosen another job than that one. Newspapers were useful to his searches but most of the time, he could not stand journalists. Always trying to get their nose in others' businesses and when they were unsuccessful, they just wrote rubbish. However, it was not the most important thing in the old man's speech; visibly he was fond of the boy. There had been regret in his voice. Was he sad the boy was not there anymore ? Had the boy been more injured that described in the articles he had read ?

Percival felt the familiar need to understand urging him to talk and get to the truth as quickly as possible. He put a shy smile on his face again.

" No, I am not sir… Err… You said he did not need this ? Was the boy more injured than what the newspapers said ?" He asked with a look of concern.

" Not really injured. I think he felt insecure, but I don't know if it was by the situation or not. Let me tell you the whole story from the beginning."

He nodded to show the man he was ready to hear his story.

" It was the strongest storm I have ever seen! The wind was so strong it seemed to have a voice of its own, howling like a beast. I could hear the thunder rolling outside. It had been storming for a while when someone knocked at my door. I… At first I couldn't believe someone was there. But as the person was still knocking I opened the door to a soaked woman holding a child in her arms. I rushed them inside as soon as I saw the state they were in and gave them blankets and then, I lit a fire. You know… the boy… He must have been six years old judging by his height. He was terrified at first and wouldn't let go of her. It took a long time for us to calm him down. He told me his name was Tom Riddle. That's the only thing he said to me, except thanking me for my help. A good and polite lad. A good lad, yes. "

Percival could perceive the emotion in the man's eyes, he definitely was regretting something. But what ? To have let the boy go ? Surely if the boy really was an obscurial he was not surrounded by people who made him feel safe, but could it be possible that such a strong storm had been caused by a six year old boy ? Credence had been around twenty years old when he… When he died; and the damage he had caused was maybe not as awful as the damage done here. If one overlooked the murder of two people. However, if the boy was truly an obscurial, with such strength now, there was little time left before someone the raw magic killed someone. And if someone died, then it would be far more difficult for Percival to help the boy accept his magic and accept himself…

"Why… Why were they out in such weather ?" The former member of MACUSA asked.

"Lou, the young woman, told me she was going back to her friends' house when she heard desperate cries. So she decided to brave the storm to help Tom. She found him in the water… With… Well… She said something quite disturbing in fact… He had a scarf around his eyes, so it seems he was with other children playing blind man's buff before the storm; but she said there was no one around him. He came from an orphanage. But I don't know which one..."

He lowered his head. So now Graves knew why the old man seemed so upset at the idea of having let the boy go. He really was in trouble and Camden had not been able to help him as well as he would have wanted.

" I know what you will say… I should have helped him out… But I am an old man, what future would the little Tom have with me ? I hope Lou is taking measures to adopt him. She seemed very fond of him and I trust her to be perfectly able to raise the child. A gorgeous woman this Lou. Her smile is so bright and warm, you can only be reassured by her presence. I can easily understand why Tom would not let go of her. She told me she was from Cheshire and visiting friends that live near here. I am glad she was brave enough to save the little guy. Most people wouldn't have you know…"

Maybe the woman was taking care of the boy. Graves was not sure if it was good or bad news. There was a good chance she was a no-maj so she would not be able to take care of him. She may even reject him after having given him hope for a new and decent life. It would be fatal to the boy… If she had not yet adopted him, then where was the orphanage he came from ? Camden did not know anything about it, so how would he discover anything if his only source of information was useless on something that important ?

" Yes, I know. It really is sad that not a lot of people are ready to help others. I hope this Lou has adopted him. Don't you know where the children were living at the time of the storm ? Maybe I could go there, ask about what happened to Tom after Lou brought him back and if they know where the orphanage is. I haven't heard of any orphanage near this town so I think they came from somewhere else. If I find out something new I will tell you !"

Graves had made his offer in a mixture of hope and shyness he really did not feel right now. He was growing concerned about finding the boy.

" You really would do this for me ?" Asked the old man.

Graves restrained himself from rolling his eye. Sure he was going to do that, he had to be sure of the boy's safety and check if he was not an obscurial after all. He nodded and gave the man a reassuring smile and then took a sip of coffee.

He spent two hours at Camden's house before he could go. It had been a long time for him to listen calmly to the man while his mind was spinning madly. He did not like to lose time when he had to carry such an important task, but at the same time, something in him wanted to listen. He had known the man had useful information in store for him and he had not been wrong.

While walking toward the youth hostel where the children had been spending their holidays, he brooded over Tom and this woman named Lou. Was she really going to adopt the boy as Camden was hoping ? If she seemed so close to Tom, then it might be possible but if she did so, Graves knew it would be harder to find him and to say he was not pleased by this possibility was an understatement. What if Grindelwald found the boy before Graves did so ? The boy would die or be used as a weapon by the dark wizard. That Lou was no wizard, and even if Graves had a better opinion on no-majs since he met Kowalski, he knew the woman would not be able to defend Tom properly.

He sighed as he found himself in front of the building he was looking for. It was not as huge as he had imagined it, neither was it the kind of building he was used to but after all, he was not in New York City anymore and not even in England's capital city. He pushed the door open and entered a narrow room with a counter and a tall man behind it. He barely gave Percival a look before pursuing the difficult task before him, that is to say reading an empty datebook.

The former auror gazed at the man with intensity and walked toward him with an imperial air. He was not impressed by that kind of behaviour, really.

"I would like to know where the child who had been lost in the storm is living, please." He said in an icy tone.

The man looked at him right in the eyes, an infuriating smile plastered on his face. It was a shame Percival could not use magic on no-majs or he would be fired… A stinging jinx would have erased that smile of his.

" I am not supposed to give such information sir… ?"

So he wanted to play that game ? Percival decided to frown at the man and then gave him a playful grin. One look had already helped him to know enough of the man to make him yield.

" Are you supposed to be that much of a nuisance ? Not able to afford some decent clothes because of the lack of clients. Just the kids from the orphanage I presume. Your first clients in a month or two ?"

He could see the man gritting his teeth as he talked in a conniving kind of way.

"And Married ? Oh poor woman, forced to live with a man like you, without enough money to have a decent life. She might get bored and find a lover to feel a bit more cared for. Someone to fill the emptiness of her life with you. Or I could offer you a lot of money if you would just give me the information I need. It could spare you a lot of trouble you know, lad. "

He saw in the man's eyes that he had won and his smile became sharper.

"Wool's orphanage in London. " He answered.

Percival patted his shoulder and then gave him five hundred pounds before leaving. So Tom had been in London from the beginning… What an interesting piece of news.