Graves sat in his office at MACUSA pouring over paperwork. If there was anything he hated more than being disguised as Graves, it was all this damn paperwork. How did anyone get anything done when nearly everything had to be documented and so much red tape cut through?
He gave a heavy sigh, pressing a hand to his forehead. The day was going poorly. The week was going poorly. The search for the child was going poorly, he suspected he couldn't have made a poorer choice of someone to find the child than for Credence Barebone.
Despite the boy's last name, he doubted Credence had a solid bone in his body, flinching at every little sound. Cowering constantly. It disgusted him. But it was all he had. And now to make matters worse, the girl had seen him.
With a flick of his wand, a hazy cloud conjured up in front of him the scene. Graves stared flatly, unamused as the ball hit Credence and Adeline shrieked.
"Credence, you imbecile." He cursed under his breath, leaning back in his chair. He knew her father. Scott Nickels, of The Brotherhood. He rolled his eyes, looking down at a drawer that flung open for him. On top of a thick blue folder of binded papers laid a photo of a dark haired woman with a mischievous smile. He knew the girl too, Adeline Nickels, daughter of Amoret Nickels, who never bothered to change her name after she fled. But Amoret had no contact with her daughter since the day, and he'd seen little reason to question her about it.
He assumed it was simply in her nature, not unlike how snakes abandoned their young in the wild, holding little to no maternal instinct. The marriage had been a mission, and the child simply an accident. Maybe Amoret could even smell the stench of No-Maj on her, like a fledgling contaminated by human touch. He was unsure.
His jaw clenched, the drawer slamming shut. To obliviate her might bring suspicion to the father, if not done right. But...Perhaps...Perhaps, she could be useful? He leaned forward on his desk, studying the hazy display of events with exasperation. It replayed Credence chasing the boy and falling in the mud now. Any wizard with an inkling of talent would know that the light was no magic. A stupid No-Maj contraction. A firework. It was obvious.
He spun around in his office chair to study a board of open cases behind him. On a paper thicker than normal was Scott Nickel's face, looking angry, enraged. The hand of the Barometer on his desk that measured the level of threat of being exposed to No-Majs, had been permanently situated between "Moderate Threat" and "High Alert" since his arrival.
Baiting the daughter of a Witch Hunter to his side, and if she wasn't dead yet, quite possibly a squib, might be his worst idea yet. He may very well end up with two burdens. But then again, if she carried at least an ounce of her mother's...gift, then perhaps Adeline could prove even more useful than Credence.