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http://ift.tt/2EWEu9DI have to say that I thought about this a lot the whole time since I saw it. Apologies in advance for the rambling, I get distracted by the ‘why’ of things instead of focusing on the ‘what’ when I muse by myself. Deviates a bit from HP!canon of dragons.
Okay, so! 2 scenarios: Director Graves and not-a-director!Graves
Because if Graves is still a director, then to me that implies he’s quite old and sage in that he has lived long enough to experience many things and made a reasonably sound decision to try and live amongst humans. He had time to learn their ways, cultures and behaviours, learned to channel his own brand of magic into something that’s similar to theirs (perhaps why he doesn’t always need a wand) and settled in America. He was Gondulphus Graves who helped found MACUSA and the first of the aurors, watched how the human governing body succeeded and failed before moving somewhere else for a bit while a dragon kin who was curious played at being his son Eldridge when his ‘father’ retired.
Eldrige ‘sat out’ on the issue of Country or Kind and vacated to Asia while Graves was a visitor from America cooperating with the Ministry of Magic at the time as a very distant relative of the Graves. He likes the English in a “tries hard but appears unconcerned” kind of way (or was it the other way around, he isn’t quite sure) and drops by once in a while. He meets baby Theseus Scamander during one of these trips when his father had to bring him along to work for some reason. He thinks he likes reddish hair on humans.
‘Percival Graves’ financially supports the military when war breaks out, but he physically participates as a dragon as part of the pilot project dragon corps, much more useful that way. He’s the only one sentient there; his breed of dragon kin don’t usually involve themselves in human matters so consider the rest your typical HP!dragons, the Ironbellies, and they defer to him instinctively because he’s totally the alpha. There he meets Newt Scamander, the younger brother of a small child he vaguely recalls. Newt is a skittish thing around humans and doesn’t do well with commands being yelled at him, but he’s confident and adept with the creatures and he keeps looking at Percival with rapt fascination.
“I’ve never seen one like you before,” the little human says and pats Percival on the snout, rubs under his jaw almost every chance he gets.
He’s a pretty little one, soft auburn curls and emeralds for eyes, skin speckled in a way that’s pleasing to Percival. Flushes easily with the pleasure of caring for the dragons and worries visibly as if they are more vulnerable than his soft flesh and brittle bones. Percival likes nudging him when he’s around to see his reactions, curls his tail around him and watches large eyes widen further, blink furiously in surprise.
Percival doesn’t behave quite like the others, after all.
The other wranglers don’t charm him as much and he tolerates them at best. The Ironbellies are restless days after being kept stationary and they manage one successful attack and a single disastrous one before the project is scrapped. The others are taken back to their habitats/conservations but no one knows where Percival came from; he finds his own way out and no one stops him.
Percival returns as a human and fights alongside little Theseus who doesn’t remember him (thank goodness) and protects the ones he’s remotely fond of and removes himself from the scene when he senses the war about to end.
In terms of canon, Percival becomes the next director somehow (too lazy to think of this part idk maybe letters of praise and recommendation from the Ministry bc he’s the grandchild of a Graves they owe much to) and his dragon nature attributes to his work persona: efficient and ruthless, obsessive to a certain point and unpersonable, because he doesn’t react emotionally to situations (not until later on, with anger, when he starts considering the department a mini-hoard of sorts and is his to protect so no one hurt them, alright? It makes the aurors respect and fear him in equal parts and just about faint when he touches them to make sure they’re uninjured and intact.)
Grindelwald may or may not happen. If so, he’d never be able to best Graves 1-on-1 so the attacks around the city are a decoy that Graves goes to investigate alone for a couple days, leaving Fontaine in charge and the dark guy infiltrates in that time. Graves is Extra Angry when he comes back and a showdown occurs which is more difficult for Graves bc all he wants to do is tear the insolent thing limb to limb with claws and teeth and it’s a glimpse for the aurors how powerful he actually is. Bests the supposedly greatest dark wizard, he does.
Newt Scamander, magizoologist, pops by New York with his own business to attend to as well as to say hello to Mr. Graves in his brother’s stead as a favour to him (a dear brother in arms or something; Newt doesn’t recall much, doesn’t want to—not of those awful years. He’s nervous walking through the massive Woolworth Building—too many people, strangers, makes him grip tight onto his suitcase—and he almost turns back because who is he to go pass on regards to someone he barely knows even at the imploring of his brother and Merlin all the aurors look at him strangely because who is this awkward, lanky gentleman in a brilliant blue coat and tacky worn striped scarf asking for their v important v busy bossman but somehow Graves is the one who steps out of his office first to come and greet him and Newt is shocked, the aurors are shocked as their boss leads the visitor back to his room. Please have mercy on his poor soul, they think.
Newt is seated in the visitor’s chair, pinned underneath an intense stare and at first he thinks he might have done something wrong (poor child has a guilty conscience by default) and the director is thinking of how to incarcerate him but—he glances quickly then back down—No. It’s… different. It’s interest and something else he can’t quite read.
“H-hello,” Newt offers nervously, made worse when the man doesn’t respond. “I’m not sure you remember, but—”
“Yes, I do,” he’s interrupted by Graves. “You’re even lovelier than before.”
Newt is shocked again, head whipping up to see eyes that curve slightly when they meet his, and the man says, “There you are,” and he doesn’t understand, is confused and flustered at this strange display of fondness. Like Director Graves knows him somehow when Newt can’t recall anything about him.
(Except. There was someone, when Newt was huddled against his brother during that time in between battles, someone his brother always talked to who asked after Newt, watched over him when Theseus couldn’t. Warm, so very warm. And sometimes, he couldn’t bear to be around anyone and so he wasn’t, sat far away from the camp nestled up against glossy, black scales that radiated comforting heat while a large wing protected him from any precipitation, hooked snout nudging him upright when he had to go back. Golden, reptilian eyes always watching, seeing him, grounding him back to reality after waking from a nightmare.
He remembers all this later on, another time, when he notices how Percival’s eyes flash gold sometimes in a certain light and that he has an unusually high body temperature when they’re curled up together, that he’s always touching Newt—an arm around the waist, brushing through his hair, caress on the cheek and nosing at him quite frequently—and eyes tracking every movement before roaming over him as if checking Newt’s state. And makes noises like a deep rumble in his chest in reaction to different situations and Newt learns the cadence of them.
When they’re isolated on elevated forest ground near a mountain because Newt said he wants to go see the dragons, and Percival flashes perfect teeth at him in a grin and asks, “Would you like to know a secret?” before a massive black dragon with a silver underbelly, curved horns and magnificent wings looks down at him with familiar golden eyes from high above, blocking the sun, a strong tail catching him when Newt’s legs give out.)
For now, Newt ducks down and mutters quietly that Theseus sends his regards and that he won’t cause trouble while he’s here but then a cup of tea floats into his vision and he blinks at it dumbly, takes it when Graves prompts him. The man asks about Theseus and how Newt has been doing and Newt feels his stare like a physical weight and it warms his face more than his heart at this point.
As he’s about to leave, Director Graves invites him to return when his business is finished and Newt is shocked for the third time that day when his hand is held gently and a light kiss is placed on the back of it. Newt runs out of the office scarlet-faced and the aurors shake their heads because the kid must be terribly upset to be in such a state.
But Newt does return once more after he rescued a hoard of puffskeins, mostly to be polite but also, unconsciously, because someone has not paid such attention to him for the sake of doing so in years, and the sheer focus in that dark gaze tugs at him.
And Director Graves’ eyes crinkle fondly as Newt steps through those doors, somehow his voice ringing in Newt’s head from that first day.
There you are.
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