newtralize | The End Of Love

[Newt Scamander. British born and raised. He hadn't intended to make New York his permanent residence early on. A case that had taken him from England to the rest of Europe to even the States. He had spent a good time with the aurors of MACUSA even. The case had proved to be rather fatal in ways and Newt found himself transferred from the Ministry of Magic to Head of Security for MACUSA.

Distance will be your friend. Or at least that was what they had told him after the death of Leta Lestrange as a casualty during the final battle. One that had shook the Brit to his core and had flipped his world.

He doesn't think about how much time has passed since then. How much time that he still lets guilt keeps its claws dug deep into his heart. It has been quite some time since anyone had seen Newt smile something more carefree. See him enjoy himself instead of throwing himself into his work wholeheartedly.

If he had been better or done more, perhaps Leta wouldn't be dead. Or so he feels.

A new group of wide-eyed junior aurors find themselves surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the MACUSA building. They stand in a neat line in front of a crowd of senior aurors. Standing in front, of course, was head of security. Curly haired tamed by product and wearing a clean three piece suit (a vivid blue) and standing straight with hands folded behind his back. It's a little humorous to see that standing as head auror wasn't American at all.

Obvious as he starts to speak.] Good morning. Hold your heads high because you have been considered the best of the best and we welcome you to MACUSA ranks. I'm going to assume that all of you have already familiarized with headquarters so we're going to get into the thick of it. We will be assigning you all to teams so do please familiarize and get along with each other. Get on now.

[The senior aurors call their junior aurors and the gathering slowly disperses leaving a small group left. Newt, four of his senior aurors, and the remaining junior aurors.] And you, in particular, who were considered to be the cream of the crop or so they say. You will be working with us, so be sure to keep your head on your neck because we usually are in the thick of it all. Any questions?

[ Ilvermorny had been a breeze, his stomping grounds and an easy stepping stone to the career he had always wanted—one he dreamed of. Like his parents and their parents before them, Percival Graves was going to be an auror and protect the fine folks of New York. And why wouldn't he?

From a young age he had the ability of wandless magic, which was not quite mastered even now but far more advanced than most grown wizards and witches. At the age of 16 he became an animagus—a fully melanistic jaguar with a white dot under his left eye—registered shortly after (though he used it more for personal mischief). And at the top of his class in nearly every subject, grown in the regulation of MACUSA under the tutelage of his parents, there was no one more qualified.

That might have been what gave Percival a pep in his step. Not blinded by the silver spoon he was born with, but confident in the achievements he's gathered in his young years. He's ready for this next path, for the first day of the rest of his life. It feels like he's practically grown up in the Woolworth, despite only really having been there during holiday parties, but now it's different; he isn't merely allowed here—he belongs.

So when they were whittled down to just a few of them he feels electrified. Percival almost can't hide the grin on his face and it falters a hair when he looks over to the young lady standing next to him—looking as impeccable as himself—his best friend: Seraphina Picquery. Her smile is assured and modest, which only serves to bolster his own confidence. They were here; they made it.

Turning his head in the other direction towards the other three junior aurors, he sees them with a slight fidget. There was no need to keep the Head of Security waiting, so Percival gently clears his throat to answer for them in a confident clip, a natural smile donned that matches the brightness in his eyes. ] No sir, Director Scamander, I believe we're all ready to hit the ground running.

Well, don't seem to eager. [Newt smiles easily enough; humor evident in his eyes.] You'll make these geezers think they can slack off and push all their paperwork onto the junior aurors. [A few of the aurors chuckle and some pretend to be offended by the statement.]

Today should be an easy day- [Perhaps spoken a second too soon as there's an alarm and everyone turns their eyes towards the MACUSA clock as the hands shift from green to a more precarious color.

Immediately, there's a flurry of activity as people move through MACUSA quickly.] Goldstein, quickly get us a location. Our team is first on the scene. [He looks back at the new group of aurors.] This isn't training. This isn't camp. Real people are going to either be in danger or want you dead. Keep your wits about you and your wand close. [Tina, who had quickly hurried off, returns just as quickly to mention there's activity at the harbor.] Well, we all heard her didn't we? Off we go.

[ On their way out of MACUSA they partially break off into groups, some of the senior aurors trying to calm the nerves on a couple of the anxious juniors. Somehow both teasing and reassuring, Percival doesn’t hear everything they say as they make their way out of the Woolworth, not from a lack of his own nerves but it was all things they’d been taught before arriving here; it was at the forefront of his mind already.

They split up further when they reach the harbor, each junior with a senior auror. Part of him thinks it’s simply luck of the draw, being paired with Director Scamander as they’re picked off after arriving—trying not to let all this go to his head—but the other part is excited to learn from someone so experienced. You didn’t just come to another country and take up a security position over nothing.

Percival nods back to Seraphina as she’s off with Ms. Goldstein, turning his attention back to the director after. ] I’ll follow your lead. [ It was expected of him, of course, and yes he was eager, but more than that he wanted it to be known for all his confidence he could be a team player in all this. ]

I need you to be as careful as possible. [It isn't said to be condescending or anything. He wanted to remind the other that this was more than just training. More so than usual because they would be at the forefront of all the groups. Newt refused to not lead. He wasn't going to let his aurors get hurt because he sent them in before himself.]

Let's go then.

[Newt draws his wand before stepping out from where they're hiding.

It doesn't take long for the harbor to fill with shouting and bright lights as spells are being lobbed from both sides as Aurors rush in and against gruff smugglers.

Newt's spellcasting is something wild though. For as refined as the man kept himself, the way he flicks and shoots spells had something about it that showed a man far more unrestrained and free than what you would expect from head of security.] Goldstein, take your group to the right flank. [As Aurors closed in, the misfits were starting to split off to try and flee.

One in particular, the leader of the operation, seemed to be sneaking off quietly to slip away from Aurors as they captured his men.]

Of course, [ Is the quick and honest compliance. There was safety in training and a confidence that grew with you in those walls, sure, and while he might have greenhorns in all of this he also knew this didn’t feel like training. It was startlingly real and though he paid it no mind, there was a small shake to his hands. Regardless, to his word Percival follows suit, drawing his wand and keeping up with the director when he goes.

And to see the man cast as he does—between shooting spells back and deflecting the ones sent his way—is intriguingly distracting. For moments at a time. A spell whizzes past him and pulls him back into the fight, with a rigidness that comes from training but with a quick snap that speaks to something withheld.

A ricochetted hex narrowly lands on him and has Percival spinning on his heels—in time to see someone quietly slinking into the shadows. ] Director! [ He calls, still facing the smuggler, before casting a disarming charm towards him. The man ducks behind a crate, dodging the spell, and with a grunt Percival takes off to apprehend the man. ]

Wha- [Newt makes quick work of incapacitating one of them before turning on his heels when he hears the other call him.

He only has enough time to see Percival break off and pursue one of them and Newt can't help but curse under his breath.] Pe- Graves! Abernathy, watch the rest of my group! [Newt can only have his men cover him before he's chasing after Percival. On one hand, the less people that escaped the better, but Percival was brand new and should not be pursuing someone on his own like this. It was reckless. Dangerous.]

[ Spells are slung between Percival and the lead smuggler, evident enough by the bursts of lights over the walls of crates—though by the lack of shouting it’s clear none of them have landed. A blessing more than a curse, regardless if the young auror only seems to think of it as the latter. Nerves haven’t gotten to him from what he can tell, but he can’t explain why his shots are as off as they are.

Crouched behind a wooden box he looks over his shoulder to see if the director is behind him, and when he isn’t some small spark of worry knots up his stomach. If it hadn’t been for the blast that decimates the front of the cover he’s hidden behind and sends the lid flying—ultimately making Percival flee the spot—he might have seen the other, but he’s only pushed further in.

Flinging a spell down the way to the smuggler, Percival uses it as a distraction, and this time it does land. The smuggler tumbles and swears something unintelligible before trying to hobble off. Once he catches a few breaths Percival gives chase again, sure in the thought he has the upper hand. ]

[Newt knew this area well. They had busted plenty of rings here before, since it was where most shipments came in and out of. His senior aurors and himself all knew how to get around and had a good idea as to how their adversaries utilized the area.

Percival, however, wasn't a senior auror. He was still getting up on his legs and he was sure the other was underestimating just who he was going up against. It wasn't that these wizards were particularly more skilled, but that they lacked care for who got hurt or what they were willing to do to accomplish their goals.

He catches up to the other and Percival seems fine. For how long is the question.] Graves!

[ The smuggler, slower now in his escape, slings another shot towards the young auror gaining ground on him, spooking Percival just enough to tuck against more boxes for cover. It’s enough time then to see Newt come up and join him, and the relief is visible on him.

For as handled as he could be during this, there’s still something that clings to him, just as noticeable. There’s the faintest tremble in his hand, a flush to his skin from the rush of the chase, and his eyes are wide, focused on the task ahead. ]

I got him, [ Percival breathes as he spares a glance to Newt. ] Some part of him— [ He clarifies with a scrunch of his eyebrows and shake of his head. ] We need to catch up, he can’t have gotten far.

The End Of Love

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