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Every year on December 24th, the Magical Congress of the United States of America would cast a vote for the award of ’the most popular member of MACUSA’, a tradition that went back to the founding day of the institution. And over the past decade such honor belonged to the current Director of Magical Security, Percival Graves.
Until the Christmas Eve of 1928, when the English wizard took the job offer from MACUSA and just about to have his first Christmas Day on the new continent.
Graves decided to pay Newt Scamander a visit.
It’s not that Graves valued the title. In fact he failed to see the point of the voting. He thought that it could have been initiated by a particular antediluvian among the founding fathers of MASUCA as a means of encouragement. But, such a nonsense, to tie popularity and work. He didn’t know why he’s nominated for so many years - he didn’t even bother to change his script of acknowledgement. In other words, he was totally fine to hand over the title to the young wizard except -
Graves really, truly, loved the special brandy filled chocolate which was the prize of the award.
It was made from a secret recipe of the founding fathers and only known to the house elves of MACUSA. Even the Director of Magical Security could not get his hand on it. Ten years ago, when Graves carelessly tossed one piece of that chocolate into his mouth, he thought the whole world was brighter than before.
Ten years later, Graves watched the shy young man won, with only a few more votes than him, and walked down from the stage with that box of brandy chocolate. Graves turned around and saw that several of his aurors ducked their heads out of guilt.
And he was even thinking about extra holiday leaves and end-year bonus for them - Shameless betrayal - which included his most faithful Tina, whose head went almost beneath the floor ever since the voting started!
Graves decided to take action.
~
It’s a typical afternoon on Christmas Eve: cold but bright sunlight fell on the snow-covered ground, making it shine like gold. The NYPD mounted squad walked pass the street crossing, red-and-green ribbon tied to the base of the horse tail. The air seemed to be filled with Christmas Carols.
Graves walked the street thinking about Newt with the chocolate. When his name was called, the introvert looked as if in shock, his ears both reddened to the tip, his acknowledgement stammered and he ran down from the stage with his chocolate, with no apprehension of such wonderful thing in his hand. Had to get it, Graves thought, no matter what threat or bribe it would take. He would even duel with his wand. He just had to have it.
However, the most simple mean would be to trade it, with something else. Graves calculated in his mind while push open the door of a Wizarding Equipment Shop. Different from the shop's classic and elegant front, the owner was a witch not older than twenty, leaning all over the counter, waiting for the last herd of customers who forget to buy presents at an earlier date. Her eyes lit up to the door bell and the tall figure.
“Sir,” the witch came up with shiny eyes, “buying present for someone?”
“Not present,” said Graves, “just something for trading."
“Anything in mind?”
“Whatever,” said Graves. After a pause he added: “Something nice.”
The witch rolled her eyes, grabbed a wool hat from a nearby shelf: “How about this? Rain and snow-proof with auto-thermo charm."
Graves took a look and waved his hand.
The witch took another stuff: “What about this? Christmas candle stand. It can be switched between scents of African Daisy, Summer Rain, Rosemary, and Sweet Osmanthus. The flame also dances on its own."
Graves said: “Do we have something better?” How could these be the same as the brandy chocolate, he thought.
The witch puckered her face. “Looks like someone very special. Lucky girl.”
Graves didn’t turn around, answering casually: “Not a girl.”
“My apology,” the witch suppressed her smile, “since it’s someone special, try this dragon leather notebook.”
Graves glanced at her. “Don’t talk about nonsense,” he said in a cold voice but walked closer to examine the notebook. Finding the texture rather pleasing, he was about to ask its price when Newt’s face crossed his mind, with a gentle expression whenever he’s with his creature, and changed into something else when he saw the dragon leather. Graves handed the notebook back to the shop owner: “He won’t like it."
“Ah,” the witch searched around, “then this…emerald tie bar?"
“Cliche.”
“Enamel cuff link?”
“He lost things quite easily.”
“Good-Luck potion?”
“He don’t believe that kind of thing.”
“Elderflower wine?”
“Too easy to get drunk.”
“wristwatch containing more than 30 charms?”
“Lame."
“Sir,” the witch said with a plain face, “is there anything in my shop that’s worthy enough for this ’someone’ of yours?”
It had to be as good as the chocolate, thought Graves, everything for the brandy chocolate. He looked around the shelf, his eyes caught on something.
“What’s that?” He pointed to a weak flame burning on top of a nearby shelf.
“Rebirth Fire,” the witch followed his gesture, “cure creatures no matter the illness or state of living. Rare and expensive, but not a lot needs it,” she thought before speaking again, “it’s been here since…I was born."
Graves nodded at her, “I’ll have it.”
“Are you sure?” the witch was surprised, “it’s really expensive. You could rather buy a lot of creatures…"
“You don’t get it,” Graves smiles, seemed to have a good mood, “every creature is worth saving according to someone.” He took out his wallet but saw the figure walking towards the shop from the corner of his eyes. He quickly hid behind a shelf at the back of the shop and when the bemused witch spotted him a few seconds later, he put a finger on his lips for silence.
The cramped little shop welcome its second guest of the night. A young wizard with messy hair said in a thick British accent: “Good evening, I’d like to buy a present.”
Confused by Graves’ action, the witch replied: “Good evening. For whom, may I ask?”
“A colleague,” the young wizard said, then hastily added, “and a friend.”
He’s quiet, always wearing a shy smile, made chit chat when the witch introduced several objects in the shop, and after a while made his decision: a magical snow globe displaying several geological features and weathers. Suitable for desktop decoration.
“Do you think he’ll like it?” he asked worriedly when the shop owner was wrapping the snow globe, “he seems to be short of nothing."
The little witch looked up and found that, although he’s much older than her, he still had the kind of mild uneasy which people would like to conciliate and smooth. “He will.”
“I hope so.” When he smiled, the little witch felt like sitting under a shinning christmas tree, in front of a peaceful burning fireplace, and sinking into a sofa, soft and warm.
When they parted with “Merry Christmas” and he was about to step outside, the young wizard stopped abruptly and stared at the weak flame on top of a shelf, then asked: “Can I have that too?”
“Ah…” said the shop owner, “I’ve only got one and it’s been taken.” Then her eyes grew wide with realization, and looked towards the corner where Graves’ hiding.
“Oh,” there’s hidden disappointment in his voice, “still, thank you, and Merry Christmas.”
After the figure had gone lost in the snow flecks outside the window, Graves appeared from behind the shelf and looked at the shop owner’s rounded eyes with interests.
“Yes, I was talking about him.” Graves said, and after a moment of contemplation, “who do you think that he brought the gift for?”
—
When the door of Newt’s apartment opened, Graves was first greeted with the horn of a huge Erumpent, two inches from the tip of his nose. The creature stared at him with bottle-size black eyes for a few seconds, then disappeared inside Newt’s suitcase like a tornado, revealing Graves’ impassive face.
When you have half a world of magical creatures inside your suitcase, it’s nature to have one or two to greet the guest. Graves found it shocking that he’s taking in as well as accepting the logic so well.
“I’m sorry,” Newt closed the lid with a guilty smile, “I wasn’t expecting any visit."
Graves walked in with a gust of chill air and poured himself a cup of tea. “Christmas Eve visit, nothing special about it.” Newt waved his wand and the delicious smell of coffee came up from Graves’ cup.
Graves looked down at his drink approvingly, “so you finally take the advice for once and give up your English Tea?”
“I don’t drink coffee,” said Newt, his voice always having the sincere frankness, “but you like it, so I brought some.”
Graves used the cup to hide the curve of his mouth. He put it down, took off his gloves, grabbed at nothing in mid air and the tiny flame trickled down from his fingertip to his palm. It collected into a cluster of dancing fire, much weaker than the Phoenix's rebirth, but contained the power to save all.
Newt gave off a small gasp.
With his free hand Graves took Newt’s hands, lay them open, and the fire slipped down into the open palms with the temperature of Graves’ hand.
“Merry Christmas, Newt.” Said Graves.
Newt felt a warmth from the bottom of his chest. He looked down and the fire burnt lively in his palms.
He carefully put the flame inside his suitcase and, after some fumbling, took out a box. He placed it in front of Graves and said with a flushed face:
“I was going to give this to you after the holiday…"
Graves opened the box and found a snow globe, with tiny mountains stretching out on the small piece of ground and rivers meandering down to the ocean.
“It’s of no comparison to what you’ve given,” Newt sounded embarrassed, but kept his eyes on Graves’ expression without blinking, “but it’s interesting: when you hold it up, if you’re feeling calm, the weather would be calm too; if you’re feeling not so peaceful, it would rain and --"
He didn’t finish when Graves took the globe up.
Under the gaze of two pairs of eyes, vortex began to form inside the globe. Hurricane, thunderstorm, blizzard. Tiny volcano started to erupt on the little piece of land.
“Damn.” Said Graves.
—
“Merry Christmas.” Someone said with a chuckle.
Christmas Carol came from a distance. Snowflakes fell down both outside the window and inside the snow globe. Tonight, both the wizard and the No-Maj world would open up their fireplace and chimneys.
Chocolate?
Something has changed under the whispers, and from now on Graves would probably got his brandy Chocolate every single year.
end