When his coworkers asked the Director of magical security to name one something that had changed since he took in the obscurial as his ward, he liked to tell them about The domestic columns in the New York Ghost; with answered reader questions every Sunday.
Before having a child in his home he hadn't as much as glanced at them. There were other things that were much more relevant to read. Such as the Just in; auror notices. Foreign affairs headlights. Or the good old weather forecast.
It was his sister who had introduced him to the seemingly never quenching well of tips and quirky explanations of wizarding child (and sometimes spouse) behavior.
People were always slightly surprised when he picked this; with the exception of an occasional chuckle from those who had children of their own; but it was one of the few things he had realized he referenced more and more often as the months and weeks of Credence staying with him increased.
One thing the domestic column had warned him about was the silence. Because, as The well-established wizarding nanny with more than sixty years in the business explained: "Children are like mosquitos; if it's quiet they're either not there or they're up to something."
So when the wizard realized that the apartment was eerily silent one Wednesday afternoon; but for the ticking of the grandfather clock in the sitting room; he went to investigate. Mostly because he was bored, but also because he had thought about the words of the columnist, and it was always best to follow his auror intuition.
The nursery was empty, with Anne the doll sitting by herself on the rug.
A dainty set of tea cups were set out in front of her, but the host was obviously missing.
He went to the kitchen, and sure enough:
"What you got there?", Percival asked from the doorway.
Credence whipped around in the chair. He couldn't have looked more like a deer in the headlights with his big doe eyes.
He had a cookie in his hand. A cookie reserved for dessert after a nutritious dinner; or as nutritious as the up-until-recently-bachelor could make it.
"Is that a cookie? ", the wizard inquired and leisurely crossed his arms over his chest.
To his surprise Credence tried to slip his hand under the table top to hide the treat. When he had obviously already seen it…!
He chuckled and walked up, and then the wizard plucked the boy up from the chair. It made the boy shriek in slight concern, but most of it was delight.
"Are you sneaking cookies before dinner…?!", Percival growled, playfully snuggling the boy as he spun him around the small kitchen.
"I'm not!", he giggled in a blatant lie. Cookie still in his hand.
"Where did all this chocolate around your mouth come from then?", Percival countered, giving the tell tale smudges a glare.
Having no ability to actually tell a lie, not as much as a fib, Credence surrendered.
"I did", he admitted.
"Thank you for your honesty", the director told him.
"You can have the rest after dinner, like you're supposed to", he continued and summoned a plate from the cabinet.
As he did he caught a look of the cookie jar still standing on the top shelf.
The top shelf that was well above the grown man's head.
"How did you get the cookie out of the jar?", he asked and caught the plate.
Credence followed his gaze, but did not answer.
"Did you climb?"
At this the boy furiously shook his head, because he knew very well you weren't supposed to climb on furniture; unlike Percival's niece Gilda who saw anything above floor level as an excellent substitute for a jungle gym.
"I didn't."
"Did you use the obscurus?", Percival asked. If that was the case he would have to write a report on it.
But Credence shook his head again.
"No, it didn't. I haven't seen it in quite a while actually… It just ended up in my hand...", he said and showed the man the cookie.
It was one of the cookies from the cookie jar, there was no doubt about it.
And it suddenly occurred to him as he stood there with the plate in his hand.
"Merlin's beard!", he exclaimed. He laughed at the obviousness. Credence just looked up at him with his big brown eyes.
"You used magic!"
Credence eyes widened and he looked at the cookie.
"I did…!?"
"I can't see any other way", Percival mused.
As Credence realized the same thing he gained a light blush, and Percival could spot a twinkle in the boy's eye. The same twinkle Credence got when he discovered new amazing things in the wizarding world; it being story books that played songs or self-cleaning cauldrons.
"May I still have the cookie?", Credence then perked up.
"No, you may not", Percival told him with a kiss to his hair.
But maybe there would be two cookies instead of just one once they had eaten...