0813 The Security Office

In terms of sheer numbers alone, the population of wizards and witches living throughout this vast continent of North America undoubtedly far exceeded their European counterparts.

To maintain any semblance of order and cohesive governance within this much larger and complex wizarding society, while simultaneously ensuring that it remained completely separate and hidden from the expansive No-Maj civilization that surrounded and interpenetrated it at every level, the Magical Congress of the United States of America clearly had to expend exponentially greater effort, resources, and administrative sophistication than their European counterparts could ever imagine.

As the deep purple twilight of evening gradually surrendered to the velvet darkness of night, turning the sky above New York City in shades of midnight blue studded with the first tentative stars, the magnificent Capitol building of MACUSA continued to pulse with life and activity.

The great hall that displayed at every turn the heritage and ancient breath of history that had been cultivated over generations of magical governance, remained bustling with a never-ending energy of governmental responsibility.

The space was filled with the constant sound of footsteps echoing off floors, the rustle of robes, and the quiet murmur of countless conversations. Anxious-faced employees, their arms loaded with thick stacks of documents, reports, hurried back and forth across the hall with quick steps.

In this hub of constant activity and overwhelming grandeur, Amelia stood in the elevator lobby waiting in a line. She raised her head, following the movement of an ascending elevator car with her gaze until it disappeared into the enormous light source shrouding the building’s ceiling.

Although she had been working at the MACUSA for nearly half a year, every time she entered the Capitol building and stood in the great hall looking up at the ceiling, Amelia couldn’t help but feel a sense of insignificance.

It was just like when she had first appeared atop Mount Greylock as a descendant of No-Majs, catching her first glimpse of the world’s finest magical school—Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—her heart was filled with nothing but reverence.

‘I wonder if Mr. Bryan Watson possesses the kind of power that could actually shake this Capitol building—’ such a seemingly random but oddly compelling thought suddenly popped into Amelia’s mind.

The commonly accepted wisdom in European magical circles held that Albus Dumbledore was unquestionably the greatest wizard of the current age, while Bryan Watson had earned recognition as the most powerful wizard of his generation.

 Amelia knew that this particular assessment was not only popular but nearly universal among European magical communities, where almost everyone who had any knowledge of magical affairs accepted these designations as simple, indisputable facts rather than matters of opinion or debate.

However, here across the vast Atlantic Ocean in America, this European consensus was far from being a universally accepted viewpoint.

Many high-ranking officials from the most prominent and influential families within MACUSA’s power structure held the opinion that while Albus Dumbledore had indeed achieved some remarkable and noteworthy accomplishments during his long life, he was now basically an old man who had already passed his hundredth birthday.

In their view, age was an inevitable limiting factor that affected even the most gifted wizards, and they argued that even the legendary Merlin himself, when he had reached such an old age, probably wouldn’t have retained much of his legendary magical capability and would no longer have deserved the title of “greatest wizard of any age.”

As for Bryan Watson, whose reputation was still relatively recent and whose achievements were still being debated and analyzed by magical scholars around the world, his most famous and widely witnessed display of magical prowess had undoubtedly taken place during the events at last August’s Quidditch World Cup final.

On that night, Watson had demonstrated what appeared to be truly unparalleled magical power before an audience of one hundred thousand wizards and witches from nearly every corner of the magical world, creating a spectacle that had been witnessed by more magical people simultaneously than perhaps any other single event in recent magical history.

However, the problem that complicated American assessments of Watson’s abilities lay specifically in the nature of the magic he had used during that crucial confrontation.

A considerable and influential portion of the American magical academic community believed that Bryan Watson had used Fiendfyre—one of the most dangerous and uncontrollable forms of magical fire known to wizardkind.

Setting aside entirely the complex legal and ethical questions surrounding the use of such magic in a public setting, these academic authorities argued from a purely theoretical perspective that if Bryan had chosen to allow his Fiendfyre to burn completely uncontrolled and unrestrained, the catastrophic destruction it would have caused that night might very well have exceeded even the damage that was actually witnessed by the terrified crowd.

This academic interpretation proposed that Watson’s achievement was less about demonstrating superior magical control and more about unleashing forces so dangerous that their successful use was more a matter of luck and favorable circumstances than genuine skill and mastery.

According to this view, anyone capable of casting Fiendfyre could have achieved similar results, making Watson’s feat impressive but not necessarily indicative of unique or exceptional magical ability.

But Amelia, despite her limited professional experience, wasn’t swayed by such prejudiced academic interpretations and theoretical dismissals.

Her intuition, combined with her study of all available reports of the incident, had convinced her that the magic Bryan Watson had used during that crucial night was far more sophisticated, controlled, and purposeful than such simplistic academic analyses said.

She couldn’t quite explain why she had developed admiration and respect for this man after first reading about his deeds in the newspaper. Unlike Mandy, Watson had saved her family’s lives, and she herself… perhaps because Bryan Watson was from London, or perhaps because—

“Did you hear the news? Mr. Scamander has come to New York again.”

The quiet but excited discussion from somewhere near the front of the long queue interrupted Amelia’s pensive thoughts about Bryan Watson. She blinked her brown eyes several times to refocus her attention on her surroundings and deliberately perked up her ears eavesdrop.

The elevator in front of them finally descended to the first floor, and the long-stalled queue began moving.

By the time it was her turn, the elevator car was already packed, but perhaps the freckle-faced man near the door was unexpectedly struck by Amelia’s beauty. He deliberately squeezed in further, ignoring the chorus of complaints, and smiled at Amelia.

“Come on in, there’s definitely room for one more person,” He said cheerfully. “If you miss this elevator, you’ll be waiting at least another ten minutes for the next one.”

“Oh, thank you very much for your thoughtfulness,” Amelia replied with genuine gratitude, though she hesitated briefly before accepting his kind offer.

Her momentary uncertainty came not from any doubt about his motives, which seemed kind, but rather from her natural inclination toward caution when dealing with strangers and her mindfulness that accepting help from unknown men could sometimes lead to unwanted complications or expectations.

To Amelia’s relief, this man didn’t chatter endlessly like the boys at school who liked to pursue her.

“That’s not really such big news, is it?” came the continued conversation from the two wizards who had originally mentioned Newt Scamander’s arrival in New York.

The wizard who had brought up the topic in the first place heard his companion respond in a tone that showed considerably less excitement about the famous magizoologist’s presence in their city.

“He comes by almost every few years to visit, you know. If you knew enough about his personal history and family connections, you’d understand that his wife, Mrs. Tina Goldstein, is a local resident with deep roots in the New York magical community.

She was even employed as an Auror in the Security Department for several years before her marriage, and she still maintains close friendships and professional contacts throughout MACUSA.”

“Oh, well, nobody who pays any attention to magical society news wouldn’t know those basic facts about the Scamander family,” the first wizard replied with a slight tone of defensiveness in his voice, as if he had been challenged about his knowledge of current magical affairs.

“But what I heard through my contacts in the Security Department is that he came this particular time because of those missing magical creatures that have been causing such concern lately.

Apparently, he’s already issued a very serious formal warning to the Security Department about the potential dangers we’re facing. Those magical creatures who were living in what were supposed to be strictly monitored and completely secure environments but somehow managed to disappear anyway are all classified as highly dangerous specimens.”

The wizard’s voice dropped to a more worried tone as he continued, “If these creatures lose control or become frightened while they’re loose in No-Maj society, both the No-Maj population and our own magical communities will suffer consequences that could be absolutely catastrophic.”

Amelia had indeed heard about the missing magical creatures. After all, Santiago had been punished because of this incident. But she truly hadn’t expected this matter would alarm the famous Newt Scamander.

Amelia desperately wanted to hear more inside information and unofficial details about this troubling matter, but unfortunately for her curiosity, the two wizards who had been discussing it reached their destination floor and exited the elevator before she could learn anything more considerable about the situation.

When the elevator reached the hazy light source Amelia had seen from below in the great hall, her destination had arrived.

The Security Department, occupying an entire floor, presented a solemn atmosphere in its tranquility. There weren’t many people in the office hall—this wasn’t surprising, as their work was mainly outdoors. Those usually left in the office were just personnel responsible for procedures and document management.

Under normal circumstances, she would simply hand over the certificate she’d gotten from Santiago to Ms. Ross, who handled this type of business, and be done with it. But based on her desire to express some grievances about the unreasonable decisions made by the Security Department, she needed to speak personally with a genuine big shot in MACUSA, the head of the Security Department, Mr. Trask Graves—if he was willing to pay attention to a newcomer like her.

To Amelia’s relief, light was still on in Mr. Graves’s office window. The heads of various Congress departments held a high-level briefing meeting after each day’s work ended, mutually reporting progress on their departments’ current priority tasks and exchanging information.

Unless there were important matters, attendance was mandatory in principle. Amelia had originally prepared for a long wait.

Knock, knock, knock—

Too much hesitation would cause the Security Department employees working in this hall whose hidden gazes had been following her approach to Mr. Graves’s office to over-interpret her actions.

So, Amelia, holding the certificate Santiago had given her, approached the office directly. Without much hesitation, she knocked on the door.

“Come in—”

A steady middle-aged male voice came from behind the door.

Amelia pressed her lips together, quickly drew a breath, then pushed open the door.

As the top official in Congress aside from Chairman Quahog, Mr. Graves’s office was quite simple. The office, roughly the same size as her dormitory at Ilvermorny, was filled mostly with archived files from various cases.

When Amelia entered, Graves was placing the current issue of The New York Ghost on a bookshelf behind him specifically for newspapers. He turned to look at Amelia, a trace of confusion flashing in his reddish-brown eyes.

“I’m Amelia Depp from the Wizard Immigration Office, sir,” she announced with as much professional confidence as she could muster.

As the Security Department director studied her, Amelia was also observing Trask Graves. This was the second time since joining MACUSA that she’d had close contact with this powerful official:

He wore a crisp black suit in a somewhat vintage style, with his shirt buttons fastened neatly without missing one. After a full day of work, his shirt and trousers showed few wrinkles, and even the tips of his shiny leather shoes had barely any creases.

Amelia’s gaze swept over Mr. Graves’s graying temples, and she couldn’t help but feel a surge of respect.

“Amelia Depp—” He repeated thoughtfully.

Graves, who was not yet fifty years old and clearly at the peak of both his physical capabilities and his professional career, furrowed his brow. The faint lines between his eyebrows silently conveyed authority, but then the lines smoothed, and Graves’s face showed understanding.

“If I remember correctly, we have indeed met once before, haven’t we, Amelia?”

Graves gestured invitingly with his hand. He then returned to his desk, his tone becoming somewhat warmer.

“You graduated from Ilvermorny’s Thunderbird House last year with excellent grades, hoping to join the Security Department, but I rejected you. Is that right?”

Although Mr. Graves’s tone had softened, Amelia could still feel the authoritative aura emanating from the man just a few feet away, pressing upon her from all directions and making her heart beat involuntarily faster.

“You’re absolutely right, sir. You believed I wasn’t suitable for the job at the time, but you didn’t provide an explanation.”

Amelia pressed her lips together, her tone carrying a trace of indignation.

Graves squinted as if recalling something. When he retrieved from his memory why he had rejected this seemingly capable young woman, Graves smiled slightly.

Seeing the documents in Amelia’s arms, a light flickered in his eyes, and he said thoughtfully:

“So then, Amelia, are you here to submit your application again?”

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