Selena, Uriel, and even Amelia, who was still just a trainee Auror with barely months of experience, slowly turned their heads in horror. They stared at the hundreds of vampires surrounding them on all sides with pale faces and glowing crimson eyes that stretched into the shadows of the vast hall.
The sheer number was absolutely staggering, almost incomprehensible.
According to the Security Department's statistical records, there weren't nearly this many vampire active within New York's borders—perhaps two dozen at most tracked individuals with known residences.
Clearly, someone in a position of Great influence had been providing cover for these dark creatures for years.
The three wizards from MACUSA stood frozen like statues, barely breathing, staring at Trask Graves with expressions of shock and betrayal.
The man in front of them emanated a cold, sinister aura completely different from his usual demeanor. His entire presence had transformed into something unfamiliar and threatening. They all thought, and hoped desperately, that they must be hallucinating, that this was some nightmare brought on by the oppressive dark magic saturating the hall.
Amelia still wanted to deceive herself, clinging to any alternative explanation. She wanted to believe that the Graves before them was an impostor created by that vampire called Morgans through Polyjuice Potion or some other deceptive magic. But there stood Morgans himself, right beside Graves.
Compared to the three American wizards still dumbfounded from this revelation, Sirius was considerably calmer. After all, he had seen too much betrayal in his life to be easily shocked anymore.
He had merely raised his eyebrows in mild surprise upon first seeing Graves performing some kind of dark ritual magic. Then, with a simple "So that's how it is," spoken almost to himself, his expression returned to its usual composure.
After all, Sirius had experienced far more devastating betrayals in his lifetime. Peter Pettigrew's treachery, the years in Azkaban for crimes he didn't commit, the loss of James and Lily—this was almost ordinary by comparison.
Selena's scream filled with fury awakened the vampires throughout the hall who had been lost in pleasant dreams of their master's resurrection.
After a rustling commotion of movement, the four found themselves facing countless wands pointed at them from all directions. But Selena seemed utterly oblivious to the deadly situation they were in.
As if her entire worldview had shattered like dropped glass, as if everything she'd built her career upon had been revealed as lies, her eyes churned with a visible storm of emotions—anger, disappointment, heartbreak at a guide's betrayal, even existential despair.
Her wand hand trembled, though whether from rage or devastation was impossible to tell.
Graves slowly turned his head away from the ritual. He faced sideways toward the subordinate who had once trusted him deeply, who had modeled her entire approach to law enforcement after his example.
His face showed no shame of any kind for betraying his colleagues, no rage at being exposed in the middle of his dark work, no defensiveness or justification. There was only calm, a deep, unsettling calmness that showed complete acceptance of what he'd become.
This strange peacefulness shattered his former solemn, authoritative image completely, making him appear oddly more amiable, almost gentle like a man who'd finally set down a tremendous burden and found relief in honesty.
"Ah, so it's you—"
Graves smiled in peace. He didn't look at Selena or Uriel, deliberately avoiding the eyes of those who knew him best, but instead focused his gaze on Sirius and Amelia, the outsiders, the ones connected to Bryan.
"You're following Watson's orders, aren't you? Pursuing his investigation?" He spoke chattily, as if they'd met at a social gathering rather than a dark ritual.
"Heh, I knew all along that a wizard of his genius and perception would eventually uncover the plans hidden by a mediocre person like me. His mind is too sharp. And I also knew that he would never sit idly by once he understood what was happening."
"Is that why you've been targeting Bryan all along? Why you've been making his life difficult since he arrived?"
Graves's frank words stirred no emotion in Sirius's heart, no surprise at the admission. In the two years he'd known Bryan, he had witnessed him unravel many conspiracies and schemes. This was just one more tangle being pulled apart.
"I didn't want Bryan Watson coming to the American magical community at all—"
Graves continued to smile gently, almost apologetically, as if explaining a regrettable business decision.
"So, when Remus Lupin submitted the application for the Learning Machine's entry and sales permit to MACUSA, and I learned from the supporting materials that Bryan Watson was connected to that workshop in some capacity, I made the decision to keep that entire operation out of the country.
I knew that invention was remarkable. Once the Learning Machine entered the American magical community, many wealthy magical families, including the Graves family's own network, would eagerly seek partnerships. The commercial potential was obvious to anyone with eyes.
A werewolf alone couldn't control that kind of situation. Bryan Watson would inevitably have to come to New York personally as the primary decision-maker, to negotiate the high-level contracts and direct over MACUSA politics. And when that happened, I would have to appear before him in official capacity, exposed to his scrutiny during meetings and reviews."
Graves paused, his expression becoming more regretful.
"He would immediately know of my predicament and what I was doing. He would see right through me. As it turns out, I was absolutely right about that. I thought refusing the Learning Machine's entry would buy me time, delay the inevitable confrontation until after our work was complete.
But I truly didn't anticipate that Watson would value profit so highly. That a wizard of his caliber and reputation would personally negotiate with MACUSA to bring the Learning Machine into the American magical market, would invest his own time and political capital in what could have been delegated.
When he submitted the entry application personally, when his name appeared on the documents, I had no legitimate grounds to refuse."
"What are you talking about? What predicament?"
Uriel said in a trembling voice filled with confusion, but what he couldn't understand, the subtext of Graves's words about being discovered, Sirius and Amelia could piece together from their knowledge of Bryan's abilities.
After a brief silence, during which he observed Graves's face carefully, searching for any sign of deception, Sirius looked coldly at this high-ranking official of the American Magical Congress.
"If I'm not mistaken, you have Bryan's wand? You're the one who killed Santiago to steal it?"
Hearing this direct accusation, Amelia started in shock, her head turned toward Sirius. But then the surprise on her face subsided as the logic became clear, replaced by a mournful expression of understanding.
If Graves was the one orchestrating everything with the vampires, masterminding this entire conspiracy, then who else could have killed Santiago?
The vampire Morgans had been in custody at the time. Graves had both motive and opportunity, and the authority to move through MACUSA unquestioned.
"I didn't want to harm an innocent wizard's life—"
Graves's tone carried a faint tinge of regret. For a moment, he looked like the man they'd thought they knew.
"Santiago was a good man, diligent in his work, loyal to MACUSA. But I couldn't think of any other way to get what I needed. After the joint review meeting ended, when Watson's application was approved despite my objections, I did hold onto a sliver of hope.
I hoped Watson would conclude his business and leave New York as soon as possible, return to Britain before I had to take more drastic action. But I didn't expect—"
Graves paused, his gaze drifting to the fang hovering above the blood pool, pulsing with power as it channeled energy into the ritual. The lightning connecting it to the vortex crackled more intensely.
"I didn't expect Watson to have this in his possession. Such an incredible coincidence, or perhaps it's fate.
Morgans told me that if I could obtain this fang, if we could incorporate it into our ritual, our resurrection plan would gain tremendous momentum. We could eliminate the need to risk collecting blood from dangerous magical creatures, avoid the dangerous hunts that kept threatening to expose our operation. I couldn't resist that temptation. The promise of acceleration, of finally ending this nightmare."
He sighed softly in years of weariness.
"I had to resort to desperate measures. You guessed correctly, Mr. Black. I killed Santiago Columbus and tried to frame Watson for it. Of course, I knew full well that the excuse I provided was quite crude. But that didn't matter—I only needed an excuse that would satisfy procedural requirements.
I needed the pretext of checking whether Watson had retrieved his allegedly stolen wand to legally search his personal belongings to find out where he'd hidden that fang. And then, once located, to seize it."
The fury churning in her heart, burning like acid, made Amelia's entire body tremble with rage. Her hands clenched into fists.
She finally understood why, based on an absurd and completely untenable suspicion, Graves had sent Aurors bursting into her home, threatening to arrest Bryan with such aggression and urgency.
Graves knew that Bryan would never agree to being detained. But that wasn't his true purpose at all. He only wanted to discover where the fang was hidden.
"But all of this—"
Amelia, who had graduated from magical school not long ago with idealistic notions about justice and law enforcement still fresh in her mind, looked at Graves with sorrow.
Then her gaze shifted to the fang pulsing with heart-chilling power, surrounded by blood-red lightning. "You did all this... murdered an innocent man, betrayed everyone who trusted you, banded with dark creatures... to gain more powerful magic? For power?"
"Power, yes—"
Graves gazed at the fang with intensity, his eyes flickering with deep reminiscence. Memories played across his face like shadows. He smiled wistfully, sadly.
"It's always so captivating, isn't it? The promise of power, of being strong enough to protect yourself and those you love. You all surely know, it was hardly a secret that my grandfather, Percival Graves, was also the Director of Magical Security decades ago. A wizard of formidable magical ability, renowned throughout the Americas and respected internationally.
But just when his career and reputation reached their absolute zenith, he encountered Gellert Grindelwald. And before that Dark wizard's overwhelming power, before Grindelwald's genius and ruthlessness, all his accumulated power and prestige meant absolutely nothing.
He was swept aside like dust.
He was imprisoned by Grindelwald with ease, locked away like a common criminal. That monster assumed his identity flawlessly and became the Security Director himself, wearing my grandfather's face, bringing tremendous harm to this city, manipulating events that led to deaths and suffering."
Graves's voice grew heavier with old pain.
"Though Newt Scamander ultimately thwarted Grindelwald's conspiracy, though he saved the city from catastrophe, he couldn't wash away the humiliation my grandfather suffered. He couldn't restore what was taken.
That once-respected wizard ultimately died in disgrace and pain, his reputation was tarnished, his name was associated with Grindelwald's crimes despite his innocence. The family name carried that stain."
"So—"
Amelia looked at Graves in disbelief, her voice rising with incredulity.
"To gain more powerful magic, to avoid your grandfather's fate, you're willing to commit the grave crime of murder?"
"I'm just a wizard of ordinary talent, Amelia—"
The corners of Graves's mouth twitched in a self-deprecating smile, his voice full of bitter regret and acceptance.
"I'm not Bryan Watson or Albus Dumbledore, not gifted with their extraordinary natural abilities. Nor am I Gellert Grindelwald or that cruel person terrorizing Britain. I'm not a prodigiously gifted wizard who can bend reality to my will with ease.
I've always been very clear about that limitation, very aware of my own mediocrity despite my efforts. As for seeking power for domination, for control, we don't have such grand ambitions. That's not what this is about."
"Then why did you do all this?"
Sirius said calmly, his gray eyes meeting Graves's with intensity.
"If you're not seeking greater power for its own sake, then what is all of this for?"
"Didn't Watson tell you?"
Graves looked toward Amelia who was equally awaiting an answer and smiled with something like pity.
"Didn't he explain what he saw when he looked at me?"
He withdrew his wand from pointing at the air above the ritual, lowering it slowly. Then he gestured toward himself with his free hand. His robes were suddenly torn apart by invisible force.
The instant they saw his bare torso revealed in the blood-red light, all four who had tracked him here, Sirius, Amelia, Selena, and Uriel showed varying degrees of shock and horror.
Gasps echoed in the sudden silence.
The skin on Graves's upper body was as withered and wrinkled as that of a dying old man in his final days, the flesh was hanging loosely over his ribs.
On his grotesque body, plainly visible against the pale, shriveled flesh, his own blood vessels formed a crisscrossing network of black lines like a spider's web spreading from his heart.
It appeared that the blood flowing through his veins had been completely contaminated by a curse, transformed into something toxic and deadly that was slowly killing him from inside. Every beat of his heart pumped more poison through his system.
Seeing the shock and sympathy on their faces, Graves smiled wearily and pulled the torn robes over.
"So now you understand. I'm already dying."
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