Modesty was gone, wisely fled the church. Ma was dead, dead on the floor at the base of the stairs with those horrible cracks running through grey skin. Chastity was dead, crushed under part of the roof that had come down when the church was torn through by... by him. By Credence. He had killed his ma, his sister, and killing was a sin, he was a sinner, a monster, no wonder Iliana had left him. Three days, no, she had simply seen the evil inside of him and fled before it could be unleashed on her, and he couldn't even blame her for it. The Obscurial was here? Where did she go? Help me. Help me. Didnt you tell me you had another sister?

Credence was left curled in a corner, unable to stop the frantic whimpering leaving him, trying desperately to figure out what to do. Could he just kill himself? He'd often through the world would be a better place without him, and maybe he'd always been right. Maybe if he killed himself, whatever evil was inside of him would go away and no one else would get hurt... but Iliana, when he had hinted his thoughts drifted that direction sometimes, had been so horrified. She had clutched his hands and looked up at him with big, earnest blue eyes that begged him to never, ever even think such a thing, and he found that even after she was gone he was too pathetically attached to her to do something she had asked him not to.

"The Obscurial, she was here," Mr. Graves said, kneeling beside him and reaching out, cradling Credence's head as he sagged over a broken bit of pew. At some point he'd reached up to touch the pendant the man had given him, that must have summoned him here.

"Please help me," Credence moaned, because it didn't matter what happened from here on out he needed help. Maybe, maybe Mr. Graves would be kind enough to destroy him.

Didn't you tell me you had another sister, Credence?" Graves insisted.

"Please, help me," Credence sobbed, and he felt ashamed of himself at the sensation of droll running down his chin from the force of his sobs. He was a wreck, he deserved to be obliterated.

"The little one? Where did she go?"

"Please..." Credence jerked as Graves slammed a fist into his eye, instantly going still and quiet. Ma's hits had been about that hard, so Graves was pulling his punches, but he jostled Credence roughly.

Slowly, Credence began to piece things together. Mr. Graves, for whatever reason, thought that Modesty was the child in his vision. He thought she was the one who had the power. But that power was inside of Credence, roiling in rage at the strike and begging to be unleashed against the older man for daring to strike him, for treating him the same as Ma always had.

"Your sisters in grave danger. We need to find her," Graves growled, and a slow, creeping sense of horror stole over him as he realized that he had been played. This whole time, Graves had been lying to him. The man couldn't care less about Credence, so long as he had his precious child from his vision.

Slowly, Credence stretched out his hands and pressed them to the ground, lifting himself up. He was still shaking from his sobs, his head pounding a little from dehydration, but he was on his feet and he knew what he had to do. He would take Graves to Modesty, he was pretty sure he knew where she'd gone. And once they were there, Mr. Graves would show his true colors and Credence would have his answer, whether the faith he had in the man that was now hanging by a threat was all for naught or if Graves really intended to keep his promise.

Credence slowly walked out of the church and he heard Graves coming behind him, but he barely acknowledged the man, tracing the path his feet knew well through the streets. He could probably walk the length and breadth of Manhattan with his eyes closed at this point, walking had been his only salvation from the oppression of Ma's rule in the church.

Iliana, she had been his one hope, his one prayer that someone, somewhere, might love him. But she was gone, he'd seen no sign of her in days when before it seemed he used to see her on every street corner. He could feel her as a presence tickling against his skin before he could even lay eyes on her, but for days that part of him that always seemed to know when she was around had been dull and cold. Had she thought of him at all? Did she wonder about him, or had he been brushed from her mind so easily?

"What is this place?" Graves demanded as they approached the front door of an old, delapidated tenement, too run down for even the most desperate to chance it. The place was all story brickwork and rotting wood inside, and Credence wouldn't have dared to go in if he hadn't been there before, hadn't let Modesty lead him here with her fingers on his wrist, telling him about the people who used to live here, which ones she liked and which ones she didn't like, and that this place had actually been better than the dingy church on Pike Street.

"Ma adopted Modesty out of here. From a family of twelve," Credence said numbly as he mounted the stairs. Graves brushed past him, and Credence found himself lingering on the stairs as Graves made the landing and looked around himself, up and down the dingy hallways. "She misses her brothers and sisters. She still talks about them."

"Where is she?" Graves asked, and his attention was all directed towards the floor around them, looking for any sign that the girl had passed this way.

"I don't know," Credence admitted softly. He knew she was here, somewhere in the building. He wasn't sure how, but he did know that much. Where, exactly, she'd taken cover was a mystery, however."

Graces shot him a dismissive look as he stalked along the railing that shielded the stairs, peering into one open room at the end of the hall. "You're a Squib, Credence." there was no hiding the disgust in his words. "I could smell it off you the minute I met you."

Credence knew what that word meant, and he also knew it was an insult to witches and wizards. And he was a wizard, he knew that for a fact. Graves did not, however, This whole time, Graves had thought he was something... broken. Defective. A dud. But Graves had led him on, had promised to teach him to use power the man thought he didn't have, offered him the keys to control his own life, thinking full well that Credence would never be able to do so much as turn a teacup into a dishtowel.

"What?" Credence whispered, closing his eyes and praying, praying, that Graves would laugh and say he was kidding, that he knew Credence had power. That maybe, just maybe, there was still one person in the world who gave any kind of damn about him. He'd driven away Iliana, had now driven away Modesty, and Mr. Graves, it seemed, might never have been on his side at all. He was a fool for falling for it.

He was a fool for praying, too. His prayers never came true. He was too evil for that.

"You have magical ancestry, but no power," Graves said dismissively, stalking to the other end of the hallway and ignoring the look of agony slowly breaking across Credence's face

"But you said you could teach me." Credence tried, one last time, to salvage something, anything, of the few threads of happiness he'd managed to snatch for himself in the past few weeks before whatever it was that was so black and evil that lived inside him tore it all to shreds.

"You're unteachable," Graves snapped, sending him an irritated look, as if Credence were bothering him trying to salvage some of his sanity. "Your mother's dead. That's your reward. I'm done with you."

He said it so coldly, so dismissively, and then he moved off. Credence could hear him moving through the rooms, calling Modesty's name. He was shaking, his hands trembling as he fought to control the darkness thrashing inside of his chest, trying to break free, to rip Graves apart of lying to him and betraying him. It had already ripped Ma and Chastity apart, why shouldn't it go on to feed on all of Manhattan? What had the city ever done for Credence? So many people had ignored his silent cries for help, women who paled at the sight of his mangled hands and then swiftly moved on, children who cried out insults that somehow still stuck deep into his skin, men who took it upon themselves to drag him into an alleyway and bring still more pain into his life.

Iliana... Credence could see her there, dancing before his eyes. The smile she gave him when he did something well in lessons, the way she would fold her hands around one of his. The memory of sitting on her couch while Elvira patched him up, watching in quiet awe as Iliana cuddled his hand to her chest and dropped absent-minded kisses along the battered flesh. Nights spent sitting in the park, whispering back and forth about things Ma would have skinned him for even thinking of, and how her hair seemed to catch and reflect the moonlight so that she fairly glowed. The way, just a handful of times, he had said something that made her laugh, throw her head back unashamedly in mirth, and he had felt so warm and proud inside. She was everything he had ever wanted in his short, pathetic life, everything that was warm and strong and compassionate...

And he couldn't even blame her for wanting to get as far away from whatever kind of monster he was.

He didn't even realize he was doing it until it happened, the monster in his gut rising up and roaring in approval. Since that time Iliana had slipped her magic into him he had known what it was in the back of his mind - it was a portion of his magic that reacted to his anger and betrayal, reaching out and ripping through the thin walls of the tenement, tearing holes between three rooms until he would see Graves standing there and Modesty cowering under a desk, plaster dust filling the air around them as Graves stared at Credence's quivering body in quiet disbelief.

"Credence, I owe you an apology."

Yes, of course. Now Graves was going to try and backpedal, because now Credence was useful to him. All this power that he had, that he didn't know what to do with, that he had only the vaguest idea of how to use. That was all he was good for, to be used by other people to further their own goals, whether it was Ma's crusade against magic or Graves' vision for the wizarding world.

"I trusted you," he whimpered. "I thought you were my friend. That you were different."

"You can control it, Credence," Graves said, and there it was, the slightest tinge of uncertainty and fear, and Credence knew whatever was inside of him, it had to be stronger, to be better, than the wretched thing he was now. What had control of it ever gotten him, aside from sleepless nights and headaches that made his eyes water and a roiling stomach?

Before his eyes, Iliana's image flashed once more, but it was distant and indistinct, her smile facing into a frown even as he watched. She vanished, and there was just Graves and his lies.

"But I don't think I want to, Mr. Graves."

Credence released his hold on his body, and surrendered.

They'd left the Macy's and found a tall building, scaffolding holding up a sign that read Squire's in brilliant lights, a place no one was likely to make of with Newt's case while they were inside. They'd emerged onto the roof to see what had Frank so upset. It was there that the six of them were huddled against the chilly December wind as the great gout of black, oozing smoke tore through Manhattan, ripping up and down streets. Signs were torn from the front of businesses, glass windows shattered and sprayed across the sidewalks, and flagstones ripped up and hurled with dangerous force. Cars were tipped over like they were nothing and people ran, screaming, in fear from something they couldn't comprehend.

Elvira felt her stomach clench as she saw it. It had been bad enough just seeing the one Newt had kept inside his case, the one he'd pulled from the Sudanese girl, but to see one out and wreaking havoc sent her mind into a tailspin. She remembered how the Obscurus in Thomas Crane seemed to blot out the sun it was so dark, the way it had reduced a sturdy farmhouse to so much kindling and chips of brick, the way it had thrashed and let of the most horrific growls and shrieks as it moved. The way those sounds had blended with Ellis's cries of pain when the Obscurus scooped him up and trapped him.

Elvira only realized her breathing had gone shallow when Newt's hand slid into hers, wrapping around her fingers tightly, and a wave of release rushed over her, easing some of the tension in her body.

"Jeez. Is that the Obscurial-thing?" Jacob asked, staring at it in horror as it continued to tear its way through the streets of Manhattan.

"Annie," Elvira whispered, turning to her sister. She had never seen one in the flesh before, and this one dwarfed the Obscurus she'd seen in Utah years ago. "I think... I think you were right about the Barebone woman. I think..."

Iliana's eyes widened, an expression of horror washing over her face as she realized. "Oh... Modesty," she breathed, a hand coming up to cover her mouth. "Sweet Sayre, the poor girl."

"You know her," Newt said, looking at Iliana hopefully. "Do you think you could help? Do you think that perhaps you could... talk her down in some way?"

Iliana's mouth dropped open and she looked around helplessly. Yes, she knew Modesty, but she'd only really spoken to the girl once. She knew the girl liked her, but still. They were hardly all that close, and Iliana wasn't honestly sure if the girl could be reached. Looking out and seeing the writhing ball of dark magic, it was hard to imagine there was even still sweet little Modesty in there to be reached.

"I don't know," Iliana admitted worriedly. "I don't know if she trusts me enough, I'm honestly not certain. I... I would like to try though," she said determinedly, because Credence loved his little sister and it had been three days. Tomorrow she would go to the church on Pike Street, she would take Modesty home and speak with Credence and they would hash out everything that had been building between them. Perhaps Modesty could join their magic lessons, learn how to control herself, and everything would be as it should. It was a pipe dream, but it was so much better to dream for something beyond reach than to face the grim reality of what the night might bring. "I might be able to."

"That's more powerful than any Obscurial I have ever heard of," Newt whispered, glancing back over his shoulder at the Obscurus nervously. He turned to Elvira, the only person on the roof he trusted with such a grave, important task. "If I don't come back, look after my creatures," he beseeched her, pressing his case into her hands and digging into his pocket for his field journal, offering it as well. "Everything that you need to know is in there."

Elvira glared, setting the case down sharply and grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket to keep him from Apparating off into the fray without her. "You listen here, English. No way in hell am I letting you go down there without me, especially not if Iliana is going too!" She reached up, grabbing his chin and offering him a somewhat shaky smile. "You think I'm gonna let you too run off and have all the fun without me?"

"I-" Newt blinked, not quite sure what to say to that. His mind was spinning, because he wanted nothing more than to both keep her by his side and send her as far away from this as possible. For a moment, he thought about pointing out that her leg would limit her ability to race through the streets but that would just have the side effect of making her angry and at his side instead of just at his side. He knew there was no way he would be able to force her to stay put, and he didn't want to force her to do anything anyway.

Newt managed a faint smile. "I am never going to win an argument with you, am I?"

Elvira drew herself up, eyes flashing with mischief as she replied lightly, "No, probably not." She bent down, setting the field journal over top of the suitcase and whispered tracing shapes on top of the aged leather with her fingers. Newt watched as sparking yellow lines followed her path, and then there was a flash that was more the absence of light, and the suitcase was gone.

"It's in my apartment now, safe and sound," she assured him. "That place is warded even tighter than the Cactus Cat." She turned to look at Iliana, upon whom most of their open was currently relying. Her sister was pale and scared. Elvira had grown up doing things like this, leaping head first into danger when the Aurors were too slow or too pig-headed to get involved soon enough. Iliana had as well, but not nearly to the same extent. She'd always been more for her books and essays than for the action that Elvira lived for. It was a hell of a lot to ask of her, of anyone, but the Aurors would certainly kill Modesty if they got to her first and there was no time for the preparations required for the Ramirez ritual. Their only hope was to get Modesty calmed down and subdued enough to spirit her away somewhere safe where she could be contained and protected until they figured out how to help her.

"I'm coming too," Tina said, stepping forward sharply. "I still have some friends in the Auror's office, maybe I can help keep them sidetracked. I saw what she was doing to those kids, and maybe if I'd been smarter about it," she winced, offering Elvira a self-depreciating look, "I could have done something about it. It might not have gotten to this point."

Elvira grabbed Newt's hand, seizing Iliana with her other, and Tina put her hand on Newt's shoulder. All at once, they vanished and Queenie stepped forward, perching on the edge of the building.

"No, no, no!" Jacob protested, seizing her arm and trying to hold her. Queenie closed her eyes.

"I can't take you," she murmured. "Please let go of me, Jacob!"

He leaned in and he was so sweet, he thought such nice things about her in his mind. He baked, he took long walks in the park, he wanted a big family some day. He was a No-Maj, she should never even have met him, and yet his mind was so fascinating, so simple and so complicated at the same time.

"You're the one that said I was one of yous, right?" he asked earnestly, leaning in pleadingly.

Queenie hardened herself, because she knew that she could bring him along, but that Jacob would be more vulnerable than any of them without magic on his side. "It's too dangerous."

If it was dangerous, he didn't want her to go either. He wanted to make sure that she was safe, that she didn't so much as scuff the toe of her shoe, and he'd happily face down whatever that was down there, he still wasn't sure of the fine print, if it meant she was okay. As those thoughts trailed through his mind, Queenie found herself turning, placing a hand on his cheek.

"You really are a sweetie, ain't ya?" she murmured.

As the others appeared below, the streets were nearly clear of No-Majs. The vast majority had fled or were in the process of fleeing the stretch of street the Obscurus was busily trashing. The place was still a mess, sparks flying from torn electrical wires, small fires breaking out, and things flying through the air as the Obscurus thrashed around.

And, walking through it all, was Percival Graves, arms spread wide as he addressed the Obscurus above him.

"To survive so long, with this inside you, Credence, is a miracle!" He sounded utterly enraptured as he stared up at the mass of Dark magic above him and Iliana froze in place. "You are a miracle. Come with me, think of what we could achieve together."

"No," Iliana breathed, staring up in disbelief at the ball of writhing Dark magic Credence had become. But she knew in a moment it was true, she should have guessed long ago, from that first time she slipped her magic into him and felt that unfathomable well of Dark magic, exactly what he was. But the idea was so horrifying, Obscurials were so rare and always much younger than he. Was it terrible that she had not stopped to consider it could be him?

The mass shrieked wordlessly and tore up the street, knocking Graves flat on his back. Newt grabbed Elvira and yanked and the four of them moved, crouching behind a tipped-over car. The Obscurial hit the side of a building and bounced off, streaming up into the night sky.

"Iliana..." Elvira grabbed her sister's arm tightly, and Iliana jerked, staring at her sister with a stricken expression. She couldn't imagine the amount of pain and suffering Credence must have gone through, to be pushed to this point and still manage to hold on to his sanity as well as he had.

"He's not a child!" Tina protested weakly as, slowly, Graves climbed to his feet, obviously back on his heels from the force of the strike, the Obscurus wheeling off deeper into Manhattan.

Newt just stared helplessly at the mass. "His power must be so strong, he's somehow managed to survive."

"Save him." Tina's expression was fiercely determined as she tore from behind the car, wand drawn, crying out as she went, "Mr. Graves!" She met her ex-boss with a spell leading the way.

The other three took off, pops and cracks completely drowned out by the noise of the Obscurus as they separated and began jumping from rooftop to rooftop, crossing blocks in seconds, trying to keep pace and figure out where the Obscurus was going to land next.

It was Newt who managed to get in front of it by sheer dumb luck, Apparating directly in its path as it swerved across a block. He threw up his hands defensively, calling out as he did, "Credence! Credence, I can help you!" The Obscurus didn't even acknowledge him, continuing to tear through the night, and Newt was forced to Apparate away or be knocked off the side of the building.

Suddenly there were more pops and cracks and Aurors were everywhere, moving as they did, Apparating from rooftop to rooftop. Spells were launched into the sky, connecting with the black mass in bright bursts of light and booms like thunderclaps. The Obscurus shuddered and writhed and Iliana screamed in wordless protest, running along the top of a block of apartments as she tracked Credence's form with her eyes. He was hurt, that was obvious, he was starting to descend, the mass seeming to loose some of its stability as he slammed into the side of a building and began to drop even faster.

The three of them landed on a roof together, Elvira swaying dangerous and grabbing her sister for support as she watched Credence scream down the road towards a line of police cars barricading the road leading to a subway hub. The police were out of their cars, pointing their sidearms and shotguns firmly at the mass approaching them, and Iliana screamed once again. Spells had hurt him, but she had no way of knowing if bullets could cause him harm. Perhaps they would just fly right through, or perhaps they would kill him. Nothing was certain, and she hated it.

The police officers scattered as their cars went flying and the Obscurus shot heavenward, reaching a height almost three times as high as the building it hung over, before slamming back to the ground, exploding in a wave of thick, black smoke and snaps of sharp, red light. In a second, all of those trailing tendrils were sucked back into the epicenter of the strike, beginning to slowly coagulate into the form of a skinny, pale young man, staggering towards the entrance to the subway.

"Let me go first," Iliana murmured, and vanished with a pop. Elvira gave Newt a look that spoke volumes of how terrified she was for her sister, and Newt managed to give her a supportive half-smile in reply.

"She will be fine. She knows the boy better than any of us."

Elvira nodded, biting her lip, and they both vanished as well.

Newt and Elvira lingered on the stairs leaning down from City Hall to the tracks, trying to stay as out of the way as possible so as not to upset Credence further. They would be nearby in case he lashed out at Iliana, but for now it was down to her to try and talk him out, get him stabilized.

Iliana stood on the platform, looking around worriedly as she tried to find some trace of Credence. "Credence?" she called uncertainly, and it was so abnormally quiet that her voice echoed clearly back to her off the tiled walls. She saw it then, the thick, oozing smoke clinging to the walls of the opposite track, slowly sliding down. Iliana flicked her wand, a plank of wood appearing, and crossed the open tracks to the other side, vanishing the bridge behind her. She peered at the sludge, trying desperately to find some trace of Credence in it - a battered hand, a bit of pale skin, a dark eye, perhaps even that silly hat of his that she had secretly always rather liked on him.

As she watched, it began to drip down the walls with a little more purpose, slowly coalescing into something dark and huddled alongside one of the rails. Iliana edged forward, glancing back to see Newt and Elvira lingering behind one of the pillars.

She pressed on, edging closer to him. "Credence, please. It's me, Iliana." She offered a shaky smile, though she wasn't sure he could see it in the state he was in, dropping into a crouch beside the rails. "It's been three days, darling. I've been looking for you."

Finally, the trailing bits of smog vanished and there was Credence, sitting cross-legged in the gravel on the other side of the rail. He was trembling, his jaw tight, and there was a wild, cornered quality in his eyes that made her wary, but he was still Credence, and it still made her heart pick up just the slightest bit to see him, made her want to reach out and wipe away all his pain the same way it always had.

"Iliana?" His voice was hoarse, like he'd been screaming or crying, and perhaps he had, or perhaps that was just what happened after an Obscurus manifested. He was staring at her like he was only half-convinced she was actually there. "You left."

"Oh," Iliana breathed, realizing how badly she had messed up. To Credence, who had known nothing but rejection, Disapparating from his room with barely a note must have seemed so... final. And it was late at night, what if he'd been expecting her to appear at the church all day but she had never come. Had she somehow caused this rampage? "Great Greylock, no! Credence," she said, slowly rising to her feet and taking a cautious step towards him. "Please, you have to understand I just needed to sort through my own head, I never meant to argh!"

Iliana went flying as the spell connected with her, sending her sprawling along the tracks. Graves stepped into view, wand raised to strike at her again. From behind the pillar Elvira and Newt came flying, Elvira moving to her sister's side and Newt aiming his wand at Graves. Credence stared in horror as spells began to flash in every direction, staggering back towards the relative safety of the darkness of the tunnel.

"Are you okay, are you hurt?" Elvira demanded, dropping to her knees beside Elvira in a skid that kicked up loose gravel and sent it pinging against the walls. She raised her wand, running scan after scan for injuries as Iliana moaned weakly, her bare arms shredded and her stockings ripped and bloody where she'd skidded along the stones.

"Credence," Iliana whispered around a pained wince as she tilted her head, peering into the darkness. She stretched out her hand towards his shuddering figure, her arm scraping through the gravel.

There was a cry behind them and Elvira whipped around, revealing Newt writhing on the ground, body splayed across the bent and twisted tracks as Graves pumped strike after strike of electricity into the metal, watching Newt's body seize from the charge.

"Get the hell away from him!" Elvira roared, and threw up one hand. Graves was flung, slamming into the tiled side of the tunnel, and Elvira reached out, flicking her wrist and tangling her fingers into a formation. Newt was lifted off the rails and yanked through the air to her side, settled down gently on her other side. Elvira crouched between her downed sister and... hell, no use denying it, the man she was half in love with, feeling somehow simultaneously completely helpless and utterly wrathful as Graves picked himself up and glared down at her.

"Blödgarmr," he greeted her coldly. "You and your sister should have been destroyed years ago."

Elvira snarled. "Better men than you have tried, Graves, and we're still standing."

Credence exploded once more, his form ripping apart, and this time there was nothing to do but dodge as well as they could. The mass of Dark magic tore from one end of the station to the other, flinging itself back and forth. It slammed into the walls, sending tiles streaming to the ground as they shattered, producing an oddly sharp counterpoint to the dull booms of it connecting. Somehow, Elvira and Newt ended up clutching each other, Disapparating together, and Iliana was already gone, crouching beside a pillar for safety. Graves vanished and reappeared on the opposite platform, forced to move once more as the Obscurial headed for him.

The smoke burst upwards, tearing through the roof of the station and shooting into the sky. From below, it was impossible to see for anyone but Graves, who rushed to see what had happened. He was forced to throw himself out of the way once more as Credence slammed back down through the same opening into the tunnel, dragging with him a shower of dirt, broken concrete, torn pipes, and trailing wires. The smoke spread along the ceiling, creeping across the surface menacingly.

Iliana jumped up from her spot, limping slightly from the pain in her skinned knees as she staggered forward, reaching up to Credence pleadingly. "Credence, stop this, please! You're hurting us! I know you don't want that!"

The darkness paused and began to slowly coalesce, forming a spinning, shifting globe that dragged streamers of magic through the air around it as it floated below the hole. It was not Credence, but she could feel him listening, knew that she'd gotten his attention, managed to calm him a little. At the very least, he was no longer flinging himself around randomly, and she'd take that as a victory.

"Keep talking, Iliana," Newt urged her, clinging tightly to Elvira as they watched Iliana's slow approach. "You can get through to him. He's listening."

"Credence..." Iliana whispered. "Please. This is not you, this is what your Ma did to you. I know you, I know you wouldn't hurt a fly, I know you wouldn't lay a hand on me." She smiled. "I know you are the sweetest, kindest man I've ever met and I adore that about you." Motion caught her attention. It was Graves, on his feet once more, and eyeing her calculatingly. Iliana pointed at him damningly. "This man is using you."

"Don't listen to her, Credence," Graves said swiftly, turning to look at the Obscurus instead, an expression of such sincerity on his face it was terrifyingly believable. "I want you to be free. It's all right."

"Credence," Iliana pleaded. "Come back to me, please."

Footsteps, loud and clattering, coming down the stairs and up the rails. Aurors, all decked out in fedoras, their wands raised high. The Obscurus picked up speed, spinning in a faster, jerkier pattern, and Iliana resisted the urge to turn and scream them all into submission for being so stupid when she almost had them.

"Wands down!" Graves barked, whipping to face the Aurors, his voice ringing with authority, and Iliana was glad of it in that moment. She took several steps closer to the Obscurus, heedless of its agitation. "Anyone harms him, they'll answer to me."

"No," President Picquery stated calmly, appearing from within the ranks of Aurors surrounding the station. "They answer to me."

Graves's eyes narrowed in dislike. "Madam President..."

"Credence," Iliana whispered, stretching out her hand in the direction of the Oscurus's writhing, and she felt it then, a brush of skin, and then the globe began to shrink and tighten, and there was a hand, and arm, a face that looked so utterly broken emerging from the blackness, nearly fully solid.

"Iliana..." Credence moaned, and his hold on her hand tightened desperately as she smiled at him affectionately.

"They will do as I say," President Picquery stated, her voice echoing. "Fire!"

"No!"