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Percival Rex: Prologue

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

The cruelest part of his imprisonment was that he was not restrained.

He could roam his own home freely, Grindelwald didn’t live there, and as such he could destroy it as his temper lashed out, as his desperation grew, and Grindelwald could come in, gleefully surveying the physical evidence of his prisoner’s frustration, the destruction wrought upon Percival Graves’ expensive flat and all the personal items therein.

Now I lay me down to sleep.

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When Percival Graves had fought in The Great War he had fought alongside wizards and No-Maj’s alike. He often thought back to the mechanical beasts that the No-Maj men had built, had birthed from fire and iron and steel, and idly wonder what sort of person it made him to only think of objects of destruction when he thought of No-Maj inventions. He had idly heard of a man inventing something called a tell-foney that could be used to speak across great distances, much like Floo but with a series of wires and electricity. The No-Maj record players and gramophones were a hit amongst his peers, but he had only briefly paid the funny little contraptions any mind.

Crammed inside a tank along with two other wizards and four No-Maj men, he had witnessed a man strike a match to light his cigarette, struggling with the flimsy stick, and had reached over to light the end of the cigarette with his own fingers, a brief, telling show of witchcraft that had stunned the young man silent for the rest of the night. A week later Graves had waved his hand and scraped the remains of the young No-Maj soldier’s face out of the inside of the tank.

Credence Barebone was probably one of the few miracles of No-Maj creation that Percival Graves had ever deigned to pay attention to that was not an object meant to wrought destruction.When he dreamed his dreams were filled with No-Maj record players and cigarettes lighting themselves and tell-foney wires tangling, strangling him, lighting lines of pain across his limbs as he danced a morbid waltz that Grindelwald had composed for him.