Graves Apparates into the alleyway. Credence, startled, backs away, but Graves makes straight for him, his tone and manner urgent, forceful.
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GRAVES: "Credence. Have you found the child?"
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CREDENCE: "I can't."
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HIGH WIDE ABOVE NEW YORK. We zoom over rooftops before diving down through streets and alleyways, past speeding cars and cackling children.
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We come to rest in an alleyway at the Second Salem Church, where Credence is pasting up posters advertising Mary Lou's next meeting.
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Graves, impatient but feigning calm, holds out his hand -- suddenly seeming caring, affectionate:
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Credence whimpers and cowers, almost backing farther away. Graves gently takes Credence's hand in his own and examines it -- the hand is covered in deep red cuts, sore and bleeding.
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Graves gently, almost seductively, moves his thumb across the cuts, healing them instantly. Credence stares.
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GRAVES: "Shhhh. My boy, the sooner we find this child, the sooner you can put that pain in the past where it belongs."
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EXT. STREETS OF NEW YORK -- LATE AFTERNOON
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GRAVES: "Show me."
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Graves rests his hand on Credence's heart, covering the pendant.
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Credence is unsure, both nervous of and attracted by Graves's behavior.
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GRAVES: "… But you -- you're different."
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Graves pulls Credence into a hug, which, with his hand on Credence's neck, seems more controlling than affectionate. Credence, overwhelmed by the seeming affection, closes his eyes and relaxes slightly.
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Graves moves close, placing the chain around Credence's neck as he whispers:
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GRAVES: "I want you to have this, Credence. I would trust very few with it --"
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GRAVES: "Do this and you will be honored among wizards. Forever."
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GRAVES: "Very few."
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GRAVES: "Now, when you find the child, touch this symbol and I will know, and I will come to you."
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Graves seems to make a decision. He puts on an earnest, trustworthy expression as, from his pocket, he produces a chain bearing the symbol of the Deathly Hallows.
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Graves places his hands on either side of Credence's neck, drawing him in, his speech quiet, intimate:
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Graves moves even closer to Credence, his face inches from the boy's neck -- the effect is both alluring and threatening -- as he whispers:
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Abruptly, Graves strides back down the alleyway and Disapparates.
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Graves slowly backs away, stroking Credence's neck. Credence keeps his eyes closed, longing for the human contact to continue.
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GRAVES (whispers): "The child is dying, Credence. Time is running out."
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