#the-elegant-percival

[the-elegant-percival]

{ ASK_RECEIVED! } { @jonathancrane-scarecrows​ } Dimitri was always careful when it came time to feed. He didn't do it often as well, it did cause suspicion. He was killing someone, eating them. Raw meat helped, but for so long. That's why he decided to only attack and eat those that deserved to die: rapists, killers, just the bad people of the world. Luring the man outback it had been easy using his voice against him. His voice was a weapon against humans. Once they hear his melody they were in a trance and they were under his spell. Dimitris eyes glowed in the dark, his teeth elongated and his nails became claw like as he attacks ripping the mans throat out. The man wasn’t fighting back the trance, holding him firmly, but he does sink down to the floor. Dimitri rips his shirt open to get to his stomach. He should have been more aware of his surroundings. • Percival’s boots landed against the stone ground in a rhythmic beat, recently he had caught word of a deranged killer--a murderer who gutted wizards and muggles alike. Of course, the only reason why he was considering getting involved was due to how elusive this person was. ---That is, if this really was caused by a person.  He wasn’t sent on any mission, not as of yet. After all, he was the Director of Magical Security. Percival liked to take a brief dip of time to research as much as he could about his targets nowadays, ever since the incident he had prior with Grindelwald. Which changed everything. The Director froze when he heard a noise, simply on his way back home from a late shift at MACUSA headquarters. The sound was hideous, ripping, tearing. Sounds of meat being torn apart. He slipped his wand out of his pants pocket slowly, edging forwards in a trained attack position in case something lunged at him from the darkness. Seeing the glowing eyes in the blanket of night before him, he used Lumos at the tip of his wand. Illuminating the scene. What was shown before him was nothing short of grotesque, a BEAST tearing open the shirt of a man to feast upon his stomach. A torn throat that was made to tatters. Surely whoever this victim was..was far from alive. Sure, when Percival had done his digging on the victims he was able to identify, it was certain that the people who were murdered were not innocent beings. Nonetheless, this horrified him. The urge to vomit rose from his gut, swallowing and pushing it back down through his body. Putting on a stern face, he pointed the wand at the ??man?? before him. A stern, but very subtly panicked, expression plastered on his face. “You are under arrest for serial murder of wizarding and muggle kind of the first degree, drop the body and raise your hands above your head.” His ebony wand firm in front of him, not wavering for a second. “NOW!” He bellowed. “Or I will be required to use force if necessary.”   •

[classification-newt-scamander]

Playing With Fire

Closed RP with @the-elegant-percival

‘Local school boy expelled from Hogwarts! Newton Artemis Fido Scamander-’

The local newspaper had haunted Newt since his expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. To a small town any snippet of gossip was blown wildly out of proportion and made front page news whether evidence could be provided or not.

The rumour mill had started when he arrived home for the Easter holidays and had not returned, instead taking his final exams under the direct supervision of a strict invigilator with a loose tongue after a pint of bitter at the local pub. The atmosphere at home went from tense to rigid over night when the first headlines hit, now all any of the local papers could talk about was his ejection from Hogwarts. The community dragged their names through the mud, their lives were being pick apart for entertainment and Newt had been branded an utter disappointment.

Now all anyone did was compare him to Theseus. The golden child. The rising star. Tears pricked his eyes as the resentment towards his brother grew inside him. It was not Theseus’s fault, he was doing his best to fix the cracks Newt had created in this family but to constantly be in his shadow was taking its toll. Newt loved his Brother. He had always been the first person to accept his quirkiness. Until recently. He had started to distancing himself further from Newt. He could not afford to be associated with the black sheep of the family now his career was starting to take off at the Ministry of Magic.

Theseus had suggested to their father that hosting America’s own up and coming talent might be a way of polishing their tarnished name and give the newspapers something else to talk about. The talent in question being one of Theseus’s oldest friends. Percival Graves. The Graves were one of the original twelve families and founders of MACUSA in America. Newt had to try terribly hard not to scoff at the dinner table when Theseus went on and on describing how it would be an ‘honour’ to host and aid Americas brightest prospect.

The real reason Theseus wanted Percival around was to bolster his own reputation, bury ‘this nasty busy over Newt’s schooling’and to have an excuse not to mind his younger brother while he enjoyed his last few weeks of freedom. Newt had already been accepted as a research assistant into the study of Ukrainian Ironbellys, he would be working closely with the dragons and documenting their behaviour. Far away from England.

In the distance Newt could see the dying embers of a Periculum spell his brother had likely sent up to call him back for dinner. Percival Graves would be arriving shortly and the house had been in a complete frenzy all day, cleaning spells working double time and a feast had been prepared. Newt had slipped out the back door and down the path leading into the woods at the first given opportunity, no one wanted him under foot. He was better off out the way, out of sight and out of mind. Unfortunately, Newt knew this woodland area by heart, there was no chance he could get lost and so he had no excuse not to be late.

With heavy footsteps he begrudging trekked back into the house. Newt had already planned the evening in his head. He would greet Percival, eat the dinner prepared for him and sneak up to his room just after dark when he had lingered long enough to go unnoticed. Hopefully avoiding most of the unpleasantness.

The clock struck seven and everyone was waiting downstairs in the lounge feeling every second ticking by, Percival would be arriving any moment and the evening would begin. To Newt this was the calm before the storm.

[the-elegant-percival]

"I.. think I might be in the wrong timeline."

/From Fred Weasley to Percival? - time travel disaster

•

The wizard paused his scribbling quill, dark eyes raised from his parchment to see the red haired man--he seemed to pop out of nowhere, perhaps a new employee of sorts that lost his way. After being in his position for as long as he had--Percival had certainly been educated in the case of idiocrasy in his line of work.

Pursed lips parted once more to address him properly, hesitant due to the English accent he possessed. Usually only American wizards tended to take up positions at MACUSA, however, he brushed it aside.

"Timeline..?" His brows knitted in confusion, a chuckle slipping from his lips. The quill floating daintily had shot into one of the glass cabinets in his office, firmly slamming shut. "Is there a proper reason as to why you are bustling into my office..? I'm not entirely familiar with the concept of "time travelers"..though if you wish to waste my time, do as you so desire."

•

[the-elegant-percival]

(( It has been SIX YEARS since Percival Graves went missing ))

(( AND I AM STANDING HERE LOOKING FOR HIM LIKE BITCH WHERE ))

(( WHERE IS PERCIVAL GRAVES? ))

[the-elegant-percival]

🤪 & 🪀

{ MEME } [ 🤪 ] what is your muse’s sense of humour like? are they known for being joking, or serious? • “Sense  of humor? I sure hope you do not take me for a rock-hearted man who wastes away in an office all day, I assure you, it is quite the opposite. I can be a little more loose sometimes. Though keeping a good image keeps the cogs in MACUSA turning... ---I know a good joke..” He raised his finger, eyes flickering to regain the memory of how it was told.  “Frogs wear what kind of shoes? Open toad sandals..” His lips upturned as he brought his steaming mug of coffee to his lips. Definitely too proud of himself. • [ 🪀 ] what was your muse’s childhood like? how did their upbringing affect them? • “Ah, yes, my childhood.” He released a fond laugh at the short wave of the past that hit his mind. “I remember Ilvermorny well, I loved it there. Some say Hogwarts is the best school in the wizarding world. I’d beg to differ and say that Ilvermorny is just as good. I was bright for my age, my parents were strict on me--in a way, that was best. I have learned to love structure for what it is.” “Though, I knew how to have fun. I stayed on top of my grades, while on the sidelines I’d be trying to see how far I could blast a rock across the river with my friends ---One of those rocks hit the head of a young lady.. That wasn’t fun.” He muffled his laughter into his mug once more. •

[the-elegant-percival]

{ CONTINUED_FROM } { HERE } { @rangers-are-cool } Fred… wasn’t one for poking conversations with his magic, as strange as that sounded, in front of people. But in this particular situation, he wanted to make sure that this was actually the Director. And not a certain Dark Wizard pretending to be him. He deliberately kept his thoughts away from the fact that one Tom Marvolo Riddle was nothing but a kid at the moment. It just wasn’t worth making his growing headache worse by thinking about that specific clusterfuck of a mess. That was the Headmast- no Transfiguration teacher’s mess to sort out. A tired huff of laughter escaped at being called ‘time traveller’ by the older American. “Not like I actually planned this wayward trip.” The redhead answered,  before giving the quill a glance. “Ah… I can give you my most recent American wand permit but I.. haven’t really used my wand since I was 15. I do pretty much everything wandlessly or I take the mundane route.” It took him a moment to find and put his MACUSA issued wand permit and British Ministry travel permit on the desk. Fred gave Percival a few minutes to take a look at the two documents and focused on stabilising his left knee with a blue first aid spell. Although he carried his vine and unicorn hair wand in a arm holster all the time, it was far easier to do spells without it. There wasn’t much else he could do until he saw a Healer and got his injuries seen to properly. “Getting thrown back in time is not something I would joke about, Director. I’ve seen the consequences of what happens when you mess with time and I have no desire to go through it myself.” There was a sharpness to his words that he had lacked until that moment, alongside a nearly cat like gaze. Then the gender-fluid man sighed and the sharpness faded, although the cat like eyes remained as the Panther paced near the surface. “ Apologies. Both my magic and my animagus form are on edge at the moment.” • “Oh really..?” The director raised a thickened brow, an obvious doubt crossing his features. “So, you want me to be convinced that you were zapped directly into my office..? My, that is quite the joke.”  Actually receiving the wand permit itself was something else entirely, the sophisticated wizard going quiet at the ginger’s words while flipping around the permit. Eyes scanned each letter very carefully, hands lifting it near his face.  It was an entirely different issued version of the MACUSA wand permit, instead the print was less cursive and more blocky. The paper was a crisp white, the ink a near impossible black. From what Percival could assume, this ink was used to make each word permanent and protected from altercations--unless confirmed and changed by a permit print at the MACUSA license directory. It was genius, only now coming into use--however---very little use as of currently. It was a wonder that this man could even use this sort of ink for his permit. Only difference was besides that, the newly reformed cards did not contain this kind of lettering.  He flipped it to the back, eyes pinpointing the date.  1998. Curious.. The British Ministry travel permit was also entirely different. Maybe this really was a man from the future.. “These are..forward in date..” His eyes shot from the inked words to the man standing before him, Percival licked his lips and slid the two documents across the table to Fred. “As of now, I am legally not allowed to accept these. If anyone were to catch a wizard in my workplace with papers like these, I’d be fired.” He said sternly, folding his hands once more.  “I understand that you really may be from the future that is printed on these..seemingly official..documents.In that case, I have no directory I can send you to in MACUSA to assist you with time traveling. Even as a director of my department, that might be beyond my paygrade.” Noticing the animagus peer from the eyes of Fred, his hands tightened for just a moment. Always slightly on edge due to the previous attacker who nearly ruined his life.  “And so am I, Mr. Weasley.” He said dryly. •

[the-elegant-percival]

(( Ooh, also another update is that I am starting Percival’s Carrd today! ))

[the-elegant-percival]

[ 🐺 ] does your muse have trouble relying on others? why or why not?

• “Yes, I do. I hate incompetent people. In this world, it is hard to survive on your own. It is natural for an individual to seek assistance. Now more than ever I find it hard to rely on anyone.” He gritted the back of his teeth, pushing back any disrespectful words he might have had to say. “I managed to get out of the hell-hole that was Gellert’s grimy hands on my own, trapped for days in what anyone could easily call--” Percival halted himself, taking in a deep breath to calm himself due to his rising tone. “I--..to answer your question best, I like to do things on my own.” •