April 12, 1998

My wails at the realization of my brother's husk of a body tore through the house like a hurricane, all rage and grief and regret that poured from me like an over bubbled cauldron. I was unsure how I got out of the closet where my brother's corpse lay, but I had collapsed onto the carpet with a banshee-like scream. I was blinded from my tears and beyond the reach of reason and stability. I had been torn asunder from within and entrapped within this primal sense of loss.

Screaming and crying was all I could manage – higher thought was beyond me and buried me in the waves of feeling and grief of all that had been lost. It was like drowning. I was drowning in our disappointing memories and sobbing at the loss of making better ones with each flash of the husk under the floorboards.

The rage came suddenly like a flood, making me sharper for a moment as I staggered to my feet to try and prove my strength and resilience only to pick up a vase on a nearby table and throw it against the wall, falling to the floor once more with wailing sobs at the sound of shattering glass.

Through the passage of time, my tears had faded and sense fell upon me once more through the sniffling hiccups of grief and madness.

This was hell.

I was in hell, alone with my brother's... No, I could not think of that.

I needed to press on.

Find answers.

There was a puzzle here.

I wiped my nose on the back of my sleeve and pulled up the tattered remnants of my shirt to try and dry my face. The carpet below my face was seemingly stained with tears and snot. I... I was not doing well, was I?

I could not pursue Harrow until I understood what had brought Alex to this point... I was still holding my shirt closed... I should fix that before I go anywhere...

I glanced at the wooden floorboards I had ripped from the floor and noticed that some of them were covered in blood. Intentionally drawn and dried in a way that filled me with a quiet sort of dread that I did not want to dwell on for too long.

Had Alex been alive under the floor?

The thought made me puke, a clear bile erupting from me, sending surges of pain through my abdomen as I continued to retch. The cruelty of it was unfathomable.

The hardest thing I had done in my life was to get back to my feet, my stomach heavy with dread and disgust as I flipped over the floorboards and began to arrange them in some sort of pattern. Connecting the lines and trying not to puke again as the inevitable thoughts clouded my mind with each piece laid bare and the image of Alex's skeletal hands lacking fingernails and the blood that had dried on his hands.

The symbol was laid out before me. A circle half clawed, carved into the wood before giving way to be covered in dried blood. The lines that cut through it were precise and careful. This looked like... It looked like a curse. It looked familiar. As if I had seen it before. I knew I would have never seen something that radiated foul magic like this from a textbook...

I gave a slight whimper. This was probably from the Graves Family Grimoire – if it was, this was old, powerful magic. Blood was something that could make magic stronger because of it being symbolic of life. Using blood to draw this was an act of desperation. For what purpose, I was unsure and unwilling to dig any further into it for a moment. Alex had died alone in the dark and clearly angry about it, and this magic was still radiating off the floorboards or it was my own feelings creating such a thing in my mind as I reeled from the shock of the terror of Alex's final hours.

Answers. I needed to know what had taken him to this point. What had he been doing that put him on this path?

I would not find those answers screaming in a room.

I turned away from the boards and the makeshift grave for… I couldn't bear it.

Staggering into the hallway felt more sensible than staying in that room. There was very little I could do for Alex now - he could wait a little longer for me to consider what to do.

My life became focused on the walls around me and each individual step I had to take to get to the office. Each step felt like an eternity. My chest was tight and I was struggling to breathe. It was like I was suffocating, but I knew I was still getting air.

I forced myself to enter the office – it was No-Maj in a way Alex would hate and, in a way, I found both intriguing and dull. There was no movement. It was lifeless and bland. I did not understand how any wizard could get anything done in a room like this.

The walls had still paintings, like the one of my mother at Thornell because it was in fashion at one time. The carpet was a pale gray color and the desk was a standard brown color – oak perhaps? It was just a brown desk in a beige and gray room. I moved towards the desk and tapped the top of it twice with my wand, looking for signs of enchantment embedded within the wood. There was a faint blue glow on the lower drawer. The unlocking charm flew through my mind without much acknowledgement as I knelt down to open the drawer, welcoming the rush of power that poured from it at the opening that made my skin tingle.

It let me ignore the force of feeling that something was standing behind me.

I reached in to push my way past stacked files, pulling them out and setting them aside to be examined, full of carefully written stray notes of political observations and historical notations in a form of shorthand I was not familiar with. There were piles of papers and carefully labelled manila folders with dates and locations that were tightly closed with clips to keep everything together. Enclosed within the folders were notes and published news articles along with cut clarifications that Alex had apparently written and had been cut from the final publication.

Beneath the folders and papers, I found a brown leather book, carefully hidden, with a bit of gold embossing on the cover. It looked like a journal. I held it up to the light, letting the crackling sensation of magic under my fingers and feeling it snap away before I could whisper any spells. It was like it recognized me somehow, or maybe I was doing this unconsciously. I was not sure of anything anymore.

I opened the book, confirming that this was a journal that Alex kept, and flipped through the pages, skimming passages of my brothers rambling of things he had seen on foreign shores, people he had met and matters of civil unrest in Europe. This journal had gone back almost a decade, apparently Alex had begun it not too long after leaving home.

None of those pieces of Alex's past had any interest to me.

I needed to start this journey two years ago.

Oo0Oo0

July 9, 1996

My father was elected president of MACUSA today.

I'm not happy about this. And Thalia was generous enough to listen to me rant and rave about the matter. A perfect human being, honestly. There is no doubt of Jack being a presidential sort, as Americans we're nosy and like imposing our will on others because we're bigger, meaner and probably crazier. The kind of crazy where our presidents lead the troops to battle – so we have an expectation of magical power in our leaders. Jack can cast magic without a wand, it's not in your face, but it is showy and he left the Aurors before he could build a reputation for warring. When Aurors go to fight in an open field, they scream and whoop like old tribal warriors. The noise echoes through the hills and sends shivers down my back at the thought of hearing that noise again.

I'm not excited. Jack's election means I need to deal with the embassy and the Secret Service Aurors. Elihu Weathers has the personality of a bulldog – to his personal credit and some of my own distain for his inability to be bullied – Valencia speaks well of him and Weathers is good people. He's just a pain in the ass to deal with.

I think the American werewolves are going to make a move of some sort. I'm reluctant to show Thalia the reports when it happens, but she'll find it interesting as a study. She's trying to lay the groundwork to overthrow Greyback as Britain's defacto pack leader, despite his time in Azkaban, and knows the promise of peaceful coexistence will not sway her fellows, many of them are to hurt to see the opportunity and scared to take the risk. I don't blame them a bit but it makes Thalia's life harder. Greyback rules through fear and very few dare to openly defy him, he has this grip on the werewolf community that goes beyond being a prolific biter. Thalia called him the only true monster among werewolves.

I am due for a chat with my cousin Harrow in the near future. He's a boring person, head like a coconut, but he's got decent connections locally and knows where to find good booze. I hope this talk leads to something interesting.

Oo0Oo0

September 21, 1996

I saw the most powerful Dark Wizard of the modern age today. He was... menacing and grandiose, charismatic and dangerous, even shrouded in a cloak to obscure himself. The air around him made my hair stand on end as if I were standing near a lightning strike and I felt almost nauseous for the mere presence of him – even as I stood in the shadows of the upper walkway above looking down at him. He spoke in a voice that sent shivers up my spine and reminded me of cold winter winds. The sheer power of him flooded the room and seemed to drown the attendants in it.

Harrow had invited me to attend this meeting with the promise of meeting some like-minded people. I obliged out of my own curiosity. I was assuming this would be a meeting of dry intellectuals or rich political spawn who knew how to toe the line. I can appreciate being wrong, but I had no idea Harrow was enmeshed in this. I have to admit, it almost made him interesting.

I need to get into this circle. Not the innermost one, too much scrutiny, but close enough to watch, observe and have an ear and voice in minor matters. Voldemort's recruitment of foreign wizards makes me a good prospect, cousin Harrow said as much when he brought me to the meeting.

Thalia is not happy with this, of course, but I can't let this escape me now. Harrow brought me along to entrap me – that much is clear. It's hard to leave once introductions have been made and hands have been shaken. If I walk away, I have no doubts that my silence will be promised in blood.

I don't squander my opportunities.

Oo0Oo0

I flipped through more pages – pages that told of Alex earning his place through torturing Muggles while taking notes and names of each person he encountered as he moved closer to the inner circle and their crimes. Carefully staying at the outer rings of power, close enough to listen and pay attention, to be somewhat noticed in good ways, but not to move inward into a position of direct scrutiny. Alex had danced on the edge of a knife for almost two years.

The book in my hands was one of the most damning pieces of evidence to list active participants and Death Eater allies. Participants in muggle torture in Yorkshire over a series of days. The assault on a campsite for a bit of fun – Alex had listed the names of the low-level thugs who I was sure had become Snatchers for the Ministry in the weeks that followed the event. There were reports of

Alex had bought this information in blood and the selling of his own soul.

Oo0Oo0

August 30, 1997

I got married today.

Thalia is the love of my life. She's intelligent, beautiful and challenges me to do better and engage in the world in a meaningful way. She wants to change the world with her improvements to the Wolfsbane potion, I don't think my words will have the same impact as her work, but I will be there to make sure the world knows everything about her and what she has accomplished.

Do words have tangible impact on the world? Am I wasting my time with something that will never bring real change? I've investigated many extremist groups, and frankly, I'm not sure I've changed anything in the world with what I've published. Thalia will. I'm fine with her being the true success story in this relationship. I guess I know what I like in a woman – world changing impact.

Our marriage, our love for each other, will never be recognized by wizardkind. Werewolves are not allowed to marry; America does not recognize No-Maj wedding ceremonies by wix or the marriages of werewolves. That law seems to have taken root here in Britain in recent years as well with regards to No-Maj wedding ceremonies and documentation – but we wanted commitment. A kind of formality on paper should anything happen. It would be a record, even if we cannot have the full rights, if any rights, of a married couple in our own world. Thalia's brother, Franz, will vouch for our longevity and Audrey will collaborate that there was a formal, if nonmagical, marriage. If anything happens, we can trust them to adhere to any wishes we have. Audrey is the devoted, obedient daughter and she'll treat Thalia and I with the same relevance and respect she gives Jack. Thalia likes her and agrees with my assessment of her.

Thalia and I are in a hotel now somewhere in Gretna Green, I'm not sure I remember the name of the place, Thalia picked it and told me it was a surprise.

She came out of the ensuite bathroom wearing some silky lingerie in a white that neither of us have earned at this point-

Oo0Oo0

I slammed the journal closed, but not before accidentally viewing other words related to this encounter and some clearly vivid description.

My eyes!

I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes and exhaled slowly as I tried to erase the image from my mind. That was my sister-in-law and my brother! No! He clearly had no intention for me, or anyone, to read this.

I'll give this Thalia. Pretend I did not see this bit and do my best to imagine my life before ever reading that passage when I do so. They lived, pure, sexless lives! Ugh!

Oo0Oo0

November 21, 1997

My sister. By Isolt that witch at Hagstun was my sister! I hurt her as she wore a pale imitation of our mother's face! She's not for this! Audrey is no warrior and I never expected to see her out in the world under these conditions.

She berated me! Told me to pick a side because she had chosen her's and that implication tells me about what this war has done to her. I didn't know! My sister!

Grandpa would almost be impressed - which is the highest compliment he would ever give Audrey as a duellist. Audrey is not as bad of a duellist as grandfather makes her out to be. She's just never matched his standard - but I have not been back footed like that in a long time. Must be getting old.

I've been a cruel brother. Blinded by hate for my father and shutting Audrey out in an act of protection and distance that should have never existed. I've missed so much of her life. She grew up and has her own opinions of the world and threatened to kill me for them and… We're both too much like Jack.

I must do better. I've been sunk into this role for too long and it has left me changed, twisted my views as I fell further into this madness to try and explain why these groups exist and how they prey upon society.

For months, I have kept something within me that I am scared to commit to the page and this latest development has brought it up to the surface again like a whale breaking free from the sea for a breath of air.

Voldemort must die.

Something inside me froze.

Chilled to the bone in dread at something I was not sure I would have an answer for in these pages.

I pressed on.

This is the only solution.

Potter has been silent for months. There has been no word of him – nary a sighting. No sound of resistance or a rallying cry. He's hiding.

I... I am not convinced that Potter was stupid enough to stay and fight this war. Why should he? He's just a kid. He's not much younger than Audrey and I would never ask that of her.

Killing Voldemort means that I could end this war. Bring real change to the world and a better future for my wife and others like her, but there is a real chance I could not leave the scene of the crime alive.

I can't ask for Thalia's help in this.

She can never know.

Oo0Oo0

I closed the journal. Holding it close to my chest and shaking with such violence that I struggled to collect myself.

Alex was planning to kill Voldemort.

This... was what he died for. I was not sure how he had ended up under... Where he did. But I found a motive, did Alex run afoul Voldemort? How had he ended up here? Did Harrow take... No...

I needed sleep. I needed rest, but before I could do that, I needed to piece this together.

Harrow was a Death Eater; he was involved enough to bring Alex to the fold... Harrow was here, he presumably was the one who murdered... Harrow was always a cowardly, coasting sort of personality... I was not convinced he had the stomach to kill someone directly. He was a monster for his treatment of me, but I did not think direct murder was in Harrow's repertoire.

Could Harrow have been ordered to handle Alex by a higher ranked Death Eater? Or maybe by Voldemort himself?

Something in that idea gripped me. Harrow had been wearing my brother's face. Harrow had been studying him and his life. Had Harrow betrayed my brother and tried to take his place in life to flee this mess of his own creation?

Where do I put my priorities in this?

Harrow. I need to find Harrow. As disgusted as the idea makes me, the cold fear that settles in my guts at the thought of seeing his face again. Finding Harrow may lead me to the correct course of action –

The cold feeling of being watched returned. It felt stronger, more focused than it ever had before.

I turned and saw nothing.

But I knew what had been there.

The stench of death it left behind told me everything my eyes could not. The faint garbled whispers that I could not understand existed as pure gibberish and white noise in my ears.

I was not alone here.

Taking a deep breath, I gathered what remained of my shattered nerve. I checked my shirt again, making sure all of the pieces of Harrows assault had been straightened away. I undid my hair, running my fingers through it before quickly braiding it down my back so it was out of the way.

The thought of delivering this news to Thalia, Lucinda and Valencia would have made me vomit again if my guts had not already been emptied. It would have to be done soon – but it was a callous thing to do so by letter, and going in person to Thalia would break my heart and Lucinda would never let me leave again. Valencia is still stuck in Azkaban – I'm sure the information I left with Elihu is only waiting for the right opportunity.

And the bo... body...

I... I would leave him here. Something was telling me to do that. Leave this place preserved and hidden – evidence of a terrible thing... I would need to put the preservation charms on my... To help the prosecution...

No. There were no trials in this world. There was only one form of justice now that I could trust. The justice I could get for myself.

Along the way, I would look for word of Harrow Avery. Killing Harrow offered me very little other than a title of kinslayer, but I had to clear Alex's name to MACUSA, and Harrow will not come quietly or allow himself to be taken alive. I would not be the first Graves to avenge the death of a family member in blood.

Over the past few months, I had heard rumors of Harry Potter being in hiding, rumored sightings that were quickly proven false. There is one bit of clarity in this, Potter was doing nothing. This war had gone stagnant and we all had to live in their world. That had gone on too long. I had no faith in prophecies or destined heroes - not anymore.

Voldemort…

This was all his doing.

I took a deep breath and rose to my feet, a cold certainty falling over me as my nails pierced the skin of my palm.

"I… I am a Graves."

If Potter is dead, or has abandoned his fight against the Dark Lord, I will kill Voldemort myself. I am a Graves, there is no greater honor than dying in battle against powerful dark sorcerers.

"We hunt dark wizards."

If I went back to Percy for comfort and sense, I would put him in danger. If I went back to him, I would never be able to get the revenge I now craved because I would never want to leave his side again.

If there was to be vengeance for Alex's murder, I would have to be its instrument.

Oo0Oo0

Author Notes: Alex was always a complicated person. There are sections of him I want to write for In Absentia.

The reference Alex makes to the Aurors screaming on open battlefields is a reference to the Rebel Yell of the Civil War – there are examples online and the effect from a coming army force is spooky.