Boilerplate Disclaimer: The various characters from Kim Possible are all owned by Disney the great and powerful. Any and all registered trade names property of their respective owners. Cheap shots at celebrities constitute fair usage.

Johnny Mercer and Harold Arlen wrote "That Old Black Magic" in 1942.

That Old Black Magic

"It was ten forty-seven when Wade and I arrived at Middleton Slavings and Lawn – motto: We treat your money as if it were our own. I kicked open the front door and–"

Wade pointed out, "You didn't kick it open. I held it open for you."

"You think I need help opening doors?" Shego snarled. "And I'm adding color to my internal narrative."

"You know what's most important in internal monologues?"

"No, what?"

"Keeping them internal."

A startled receptionist eyed the pair.

"She was pushing forty, and forty was pushing back – hard. She didn't look evil, but the evil ones never–"

"Internal, remember?" Wade reminded.

A lit cigaret appeared in the genie's mouth, she stubbed it out on the receptionist's desk. "We need to see the manager," Shego demanded.

"I... You... Why are you black and white?"

"We ask the questions. And we need to see the manager about Thomas Price."

"Mister Price doesn't work–"

"And I told you we need to see the manager, Dollface. Stop flapping your lips and tell him Shego Holmes and Doctor Wadeson are here. We need to see a man about a frog."

"Don't call her Dollface," Wade warned in a loud whisper. "It's sexist."

"It's sexist if you say it," retorted Shego. "When I say it it's just atmosphere."

"The atmosphere stinks in here."

"It was a French cigarette."

Alice Stone hit the intercom button and the silent alarm. Via the intercom she informed the branch manager, "There are two, um, strange people here wishing to ask you about Thomas Price."

"Tell them he doesn't work here."

"I did. They still insist on seeing you."

"Did you hit the silent alarm?"

"You do realize they're standing right here and can hear you, don't you?"

"I, ah, was hoping that it might cause them to panic and leave."

Shego leaned over and spoke into the intercom. "It didn't. Now get your sorry ass out here. If I have to bring you out myself it's going to piss me off."

"You have hit the alarm– Ouch! Damn!"

The exclamation of pain, and related 'damn', came from the fact he had been seated on an office chair when Shego transported him into the lobby and, still in a seated posture, he fell on his ass... No, he fell on the floor. But that portion of his anatomy which came into unexpected contact with the floor was his posterior.

"Forgive my associate," Wade apologized. "She doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"I'm not an associate, I'm a partner."

"It means the same thing."

"Then why didn't you say... I'll bet it's because associate has four syllables and partner only two."

"I'm trying to make you sound professional. Dumping him on the floor isn't a good way to start our investigation."

"And letting him cower in his office is?"

The branch manager protested, "I wasn't cowering in my–"

"Yes you were," Shego, Wade, and the receptionist all confirmed.

Doors to the bank burst opened and Officer Hobble and his partner entered, guns drawn.

"No sirens?" asked Shego.

Hobble scanned the area, "Not alerting the robbers..." He saw nothing unusual, other than two people garbed like Humphrey Bogart in the Maltese Falcon, and the same shade of living black-and-white, "Uh, where are they?"

"These two! These two, officer!" the branch manager insisted.

"Wade? Uh... your name was Shego? A genie or something?"

"Right on both counts."

"If you don't mind, why are you two black-and-white?"

Shego explained, "We're doing an investigation in noir, black magic or something."

"You do black magic?"

"No, we're investigating a case of possible black magic."

Hobble's forehead wrinkled in thought, "So, you're black-and-white to investigate black magic? Is this one of your genie things?"

"Mostly. Alakazam!"

"Damn it! Why are – These uniforms aren't regulation!"

"They're vintage. I'll give you your choice," Shego offered. "Want to be bungling coppers while the brilliant detectives solve the mystery, or comedy relief?"

"I want my uniform back! And flesh tone! Damn it, We're black-and-white too!"

"C'mon," Shego cajoled, "we're working a case here. This blockhead might need you to beat him with a rubber hose or something before he comes across with answers."

"We don't beat suspects with rubber hoses."

"Okay, pistol whip him if you want. But I still say a rubber hose is–"

"Damn it, Shego, turn us back."

"Or? You'll arrest us? What charge?"

"Interfering with officers in the performance of their duties. Yeah, that one'll stick."

"You can stick that one where? C'mon Hobble, you want to get back to normal. Think arresting us will make me turn you back to full color? Do you want to risk pissing me off? We're investigating something of Biblical proportions here and–"

"Biblical proportions?"

"A plague of frogs. Comes in between turning the water in the Nile red and seven swans a swimming. This guy's covering up something. Play nice and you'll be back to normal, or whatever passes for normal with you, in no time. You don't even have to beat this guy with a rubber hose – unless you want to."

"Uh, maybe we should ask what's she's talking about?" Hobble's partner whispered. "I mean, Wade was one of the good guys."

"Still is," Shego confirmed. "Lawful-good. Do you know how difficult it is for a hard-bitten chaotic neutral to work with a goodie-two-shoes like him?"

Lou wanted to say, "No, but if you hum a few bars I can fake it," but a cold look from Hobble and he closed his mouth.

"Cut to the chase," Hobble told Shego and Wade. "You're alleging something's wrong going on here, what – specifically? Don't give me your 'plague of frogs' simile."

"It would be a metaphor, not a simile," corrected Wade, "except it's literal."

"A literal plague of frogs?" Hobble asked skeptically.

"Nothing like that here," the manager laughed nervously.

Even as he assured the police there was no reason for alarm the door to his office opened and Thomas Price hopped out. Or perhaps it wasn't Thomas Price. In their limited experience all giant frogs looked the same to Wade and Shego. Wade would not admit that, for fear of sounding amphibiaist. Shego simply assumed the identification. "What was Price doing in your office?"

"That is not Thomas Price," insisted the manager.

"You mean to tell me there's a second giant frog here?"

"It is not Price," Mrs. Stone confirmed. "It was Miss Jackson, she's a teller."

"Was a teller," corrected the manager. "She no longer works here."

"And the third case," continued the receptionist. "Mister Price was the second."

"You don't need to tell them that!" snapped the manager. "You can be fired too, you know."

"Maybe not a bad idea, the way employees are turning to frogs."

"We have no frogs on the payroll! What former employees choose to do on their own time is no concern of ours."

Wade looked at the police, "This is why we're here."

Lou looked nervously at Officer Hobble, "Uh, I don't remember anything about frogs in training."

"You get hit with a lot of stuff not in training when you deal with It's Possible," Hobble grumbled. He glared at the manager, "Something smells wrong here."

"The stench of flop sweat filled the bank," Shego intoned, "he desperately needed a double as the hardened cop demanded answers from him for–"

Wade protested, "Internal narrative. Internal."

"I dunno," Hobble said. "I kind of like the hardened cop thing."

"Middleton Savings is suffering a plague of frogs," Wade reminded them. "Can we solve that first?" He looked at the manager.

"No plague of frogs here!"

A blackjack appeared in Hobble's hand. The startled officer wasn't sure what to do with it, then decided to slap it menacingly against the palm of his other hand.

The implied threat did its job, "Don't let it get out," the manager pleaded, "people won't bank here if they're afraid of becoming giant frogs."

"What we have here," Wade explained, "appears to be a case of bank personnel being transformed into giant amphibians and corporate management attempting to distance themselves from any possible responsibility associated with the metamorphosis."

Shego translated, "He said they got people turning into giant frogs here, and this clown wants to cover his ass."

"I understood what he said."

"Give us a break," the genie requested. "You're supposed to be dumb cops or comedy relief."

Lou argued, "Those two are often the same. Why can't we be reasonably bright – to make you look super smart?"

"I've met her before," Hobble told the rookie, "and she's not."

"Watch the mouth, Hobble, or I may turn you into a frog."

"And with you being a genie and all, that makes you the number one suspect."

"Not me. I never even met these frogs until one of them hopped into our office and asked for help."

"So, we looking for another genie?"

"Uh, actually... This was some kind of magic I couldn't identify so we asked a witch doctor to–"

"You asked the witch doctor? Let me guess, he told you 'Ooh eeh ooh aah aah, ting tang wallawalla bing-bang?"

Wade spoke up, "Doctor Silence, a highly intelligent man, gave a diagnosis of some sort of witch magic. He suggested Shego and I would be better able to assess the situation than Kim and Ron."

"What Wade means by calling Silence highly intelligent, is that the witch doctor is a suck-up."

"And you're just annoyed because he could use your door."

"That's not true!"

"Liar!"

"Of course. What did–"

Hobble coughed to get their attention. "Okay, you claim there's some kind of magic going on here – and you're here to investigate. So, what have you found?"

Even as he asked the question jazz music began. Startled, everyone but Shego looked into a corner of the bank where a small combo was playing.

"Shego?" asked Wade. "Who are those people?"

"Linquist Quartette. They were between gigs and work cheap."

"Why did you bring in a jazz group?"

"You expect to be a noir detective with no jazz score?"

"Do you remember why you suggest It's Possible branch out? Paying a jazz group, even if they work cheap, costs money."

"Relax, insurance will cover it."

"Insurance?"

"Sure, think the bank wants this branch to close? Think they want the lawsuits from Price, Jackson, and whoever-the-hell was number one for being transformed into frogs? We–"

"You can't prove the bank had anything to do with that!" protested the manager.

"You think any jury in the world will believe it was coincidence they all turned into frogs here? Can you say 'hazardous working environment' or 'gross negligence'."

"How are you going to keep them from suing?" Lou asked.

"We'll make it a condition of turning them back... If we can turn them back."

"You're a genie," Hobble pointed out. "Can't you just do your genie thing?"

"It appears there are different forms of magic," Wade explained. "And Shego's job description doesn't cover this particular magical transformation." He glanced at Shego, "But I think a threat to only return them to human form if they agree not to sue would represent duress, you can't–"

"Can we get back to the investigation?" requested Hobble. "You were here when we arrived, I asked what you've found."

"Not much. Cops busted in right before I started sticking pins in Cover-his-ass-man here. I'd have him as my number one suspect, but I don't think he's bright enough – and keeping the salaries of the employees he fires isn't a good enough motive to turn anyone into a frog. Now, fear of the consequences is a good reason for him to be lying scum about it, but he wants to keep his job – so he's not doing the transformations."

Wade told the officers, "I believe the police are in charge of criminal investigations. If Shego and I can offer any assistance we'd like to work with you."

"Criminal?" the manager objected. "There's nothing–"

"Rib-bit!" croaked the former Miss Jackson. No one was quite certain what she meant.

Hobble and the rookie went into hurried consultation.

"What is the crime here?"

"Someone is turning people into frogs!"

"True, but is there a law against it?"

Lou chewed his lip, and remembered something from the one semester of law school he attended before flunking out, "The legal definition of harm is something that causes loss or damage to a person's rights, property, or physical or mental well-being."

Hobble closed one eye and thought a few seconds, "Sounds vague to me... But I never read the whole city code. Maybe there's a whole chapter in there about turning people into frogs." He turned to Wade and Shego. "How about we work together on this? And – win, lose, or draw – you turn us back?"

"Sounds good to me," Wade agreed.

Mrs. Stone locked the door and put up a sign, "Security analysis in progress – will re-open shortly." She feared it was a lie, but hoped the two crazy individuals might be able to help.

The Linquist quartet shifted to more upbeat jazz.

The police and It's Possible found the receptionist easier to work with than the manager, who offered nothing but sputtered protests to being questioned. Hobble wondered if he should request a rubber hose.

"You said Price was the second case? Who was the first person turned into a frog?"

"Hector Hernandez... Three days ago."

"And no one reported it?"

"Umm... Imagine you'e the nine-one-one operator. Someone calls and reports an employee–"

"Former employee!" interrupted the manager.

Mrs. Stone ignored him. "–reports an employee has been turned into a frog. What do you do?" She glanced at the officers, "Dispatch sends you out to check out the report of a man turned into a frog. What do you do?"

Hobble and Lou looked at each other and shrugged. Hobble attempted to defend the police department, "Hey, we get reports of weird stuff all the time! We check it out. It's our job. The stuff we see? You wouldn't–"

"Someone turned into a frog?"

"Okay, maybe we never saw that before today. But it just shows you the range we're prepared to handle."

"Rib-bit!" croaked the former Miss Jackson.

Shego suggested, "She may be asking if this is in the range you're prepared to handle."

"We're here right? And now... What do we do now?"

"I've asked Mister Price about his activities yesterday," Wade told the group. The Linquist Quartette lowered the volume and went into a bluesy background soundtrack.

"Hernandez, what was he doing when he became a frog?"

"He was reviewing mortgages... I don't know exactly what he was doing, I mean, his job is mortgage review so I imagine he was–"

"Eating or drinking anything?"

"I can't see his cubie from here. You could look at his desk."

"Two, three days ago? Wouldn't it be cleaned?" wondered Lou.

"The cleaner came in as we closed. She heard what had happened to Mister Hernandez and took off... The bank hasn't been cleaned for–"

Shego and Wade looked at each other, sharing the same thought. "Could she have been turned into a frog too? Is that why she hasn't been here?"

"I... I don't know. I hadn't thought of that. I just assumed that she had a thing about frogs or something."

"I'll check it out," Shego volunteered. "Name and address," she demanded.

"Um, Margaret Hamilton... Give me a minute to find her address."

"Shake a leg, Dollface."

"What did I tell you about language, Shego?"

"Any reason I should start listening to you now?"

"We're supposed to be projecting a professional image!"

"Are you telling me Sam Spade wasn't professional in The Maltese Falcon?"

"Um, the address for Ms Hamilton is nineteen-thirty-nine West Winkie Road. She–" Shego was gone. "Where did she go?"

"West Winkie Road, I imagine," Wade answered. "Needs to see if Ms Hamilton has green webbed feet."

"I had an apartment number for her."

"Shego will find someone there with the information."

"Probably beat it out of them with a rubber hose," suggested Lou.

"She was just joking about hitting someone with a rubber hose," Wade assured them. "I hope."

"Can we see the mortgage guy's desk?" requested Hobble.

"Sure, this way."

The music turned dramatic as they headed for the cubicle.

"We don't need the background score," Wade told the quartette.

"We were hired to do a job. We expect to do our work – and get paid."

"Okay. Well, the green lady hired you. She's not here right this minute. How about you take five until she returns?"

The saxophone player nodded.

Wade frowned as the Dave Brubeck Quartet standard, 'Take Five', played in the background.

"You can't look at those papers!" the manager protested when they saw the desk, "that's proprietary information."

"We're trying to save your job, remember," Hobble reminded him.

A coffee mug, still half full, sat on the desk – alongside a dozen manilla folders, one open.

"Check the waste basket." Hobble ordered Lou.

"Uh, ball point pen... broken rubber band... post-it note with a phone number on it."

"Keep the post-it."

Wade opened drawers on the desk.

"Those are supposed to be locked! You never leave your desk unlocked!"

"He'd been changed into a giant frog, remember?" Mrs. Stone reminded her boss.

"That's no excuse to leave your desk unlocked!"

"When the genie comes back," Lou whispered to Hobble, "want to ask if the rubber hose offer is still open?"

"Don't tempt me."

Wade turned his attention to the coffee mug. "Price reports it was during his afternoon coffee that he turned into a frog... Did he bring coffee into the office when he came into work, or did he... You have a breakroom or something with your coffee?"

"Yes. Mister Price always stopped at Stealbucks on his way into work for his morning cup. He didn't like the coffee here very much."

Wade pointed at the mug, "I'll probably want to take that for analysis." He paused and turned to Hobble, "Or is that for you decide?"

"I'm, uh, making a judgement call. Wade? Could It's Possible check out whatever's in that cup?"

"Thanks... But let's check with Miss Jackson and see if she was drinking coffee when she transformed."

Miss Jackson had even less control over her tongue than Mr Price, but was able to give a vigorous nod of the head when questioned.

Shego reappeared.

"Got anything?" Wade asked. "Is she a frog?"

"She is gone, as in g-o-n-e. Manager was a hairy-knuckled Neanderthal, told me to blow in a voice dripping with threat. Tough guys don't scare me, I knew I was on to something, maybe something big–"

"You're doing your internal narrative thing out loud, again."

"It sounds better my way. Anyway, I popped into the apartment. Hamilton is gone, and the place has been emptied – looks like it was emptied in a hurry. Someone in that kind of a hurry to take a powder goes on my possible suspect list."

There was a half-empty styrofoam cup of coffee in the break room, a hint of lipstick on the rim. The frog had hopped in with them, and nodded her head 'yes' when questioned, "Yours?"

Wade gave it a fast glance, then checked the coffee machine. "I'll need a sample of the coffee... Did you use sweetener?"

Nod yes.

"Sugar?"

A no.

"This kind?"

Nod yes.

"Okay, both cups had creamer." He held up the tube of creamer by the coffee urn. "Did you use this?"

The former Miss Jackson appeared reluctant to answer.

"That stuff tastes like crap," was Lou's opinion. "We got it at the police station."

"I told you our coffee is terrible," Mrs. Stone reminded him.

"We're trying to turn you back into human form," Wade reminded the frog. "Did you use this creamer?"

Reluctantly the frog shook her head no. Wade walked over to the refrigerator and opened it. A pint carton of half-and-half had various phrases written on it with black magic marker – phrases like, 'hands off', and 'not yours' and 'do not touch'. "This what you used?" he asked the former Miss Jackson.

The frog admitted her guilt with a nod of her head.

Wade opened the carton and sniffed the contents.

"Careful," warned Hobble.

"Smells like half-and-half," Wade told them. "Which, I guess, does not surprise me. Shego? Can you tell anything."

"I don't do witch stuff, remember?"

"Can you tell anything about it?"

"I guess I can try. Spill a little on the table."

Wade spilled, as directed. Shego disappeared. A small, greenish kitten appeared on the table, sniffing the milk. Lou wondered if he should warn the kitten not to drink the milk. He need not have worried. The kitten vanished and Shego stood by the table again.

"Cats smell better than human," the genie told them. "Something a little off here... It's not past the expiration date, is it?"

Wade checked. "Nope."

"This wasn't yours, was it," Shego demanded of the frog.

The frog admitted her guilt.

"So you've cracked it?" asked Hobble. "You got the poisoned milk and motive... I mean, someone was stealing my half-and-half, I might be mad enough to–"

"Is that a confession?" asked Shego.

"If I knew how, but I don't know how."

"First we try and figure out who brought in the half-and-half." Wade reminded them. "No proof this is behind it, yet. But we take the carton, the mug from the one desk and the cup from here – along with samples of the coffee and sweeteners for analysis."

None of the other three employees working at the branch that morning knew who owned the half-and-half. Two drank tea and one was actually an honest individual (or afraid of being caught if he tried to pilfer from the carton). Mrs. Stone was a literal teetotaler and the manager bought his coffee from a shop two doors down in the strip mall.

"Call any employees who aren't here," Hobble instructed. "Ask if they know who owns this."

Everyone able to talk denied knowing who owned the half-and-half. Wade summed up, "Which leaves us with Hernandez, Price, and Jackson – who currently aren't talking – and Hamilton who has absconded to an unknown location."

"So, Colonel Mustard in the Ballroom with the rope?" asked Shego.

"No hard evidence, but it seems likely. We need to call Doctor Silence for confirmation."

"I don't like that–"

"Can you do the analysis?"

"No."

"We call him."

"And you turn us back now?" requested Hobble.

"Alakazam!"

"When do we get paid?" demanded the jazz combo.

"Send us a bill," Shego told them.

Wade ran to the dollar store for some bottle to take the necessary samples. "Keep the receipt," Shego reminded him. "The insurance company will want it all itemized."

Wade was enthusiastic on the drive back, "I think we have the potion. And Hamilton is probably behind it."

"Something's still off somewhere... I'm not sure what."

"Okay, we can't be sure it's the half-and-half, but as a theory it seems great."

"No, it's Silence. I don't trust him. Maybe it's because he used my portal. Maybe he's legit. He said something about this not looking like normal witchcraft and–"

"Maybe the potion interacted with the coffee, or the sweetener."

"Okay, there may be an interaction. Maybe it wasn't intended to turn them into frogs. Or maybe something else is going on. 'Not normal witchcraft,' he said, and someone with powerful ability. Not sure I want to turn Hamilton over to the WPA."

"You're being overly cautious."

"You're being too trusting."

Shego called the number on the business card Dr. Silence had left.

"To whom may I direct your call?"

"I'm looking for Jesse Silence."

"Doctor Silence is not here at the moment. May I take a message?"

"My name is Shego. He did an emergency consultation for us this morning and–"

"Today?"

"Yes."

"Let me check his appointment list."

"It was an emergency consultation! We won't be listed!"

"Doctor Silence is very conscientious about... Was this for a firm called It's Possible? Something about a frog?"

"Yes."

"He was very concerned about that. Do you have the name of the witch? Do you know how it was done?"

"We've got a possible potion."

"Do you want the address to send the sample for lab work?"

"I want the address to bring it now." Shego smiled at the receptionist. She hadn't been sure she could pinpoint the location over the phone. The fact the receptionist was on a landline rather than a cell phone had helped. Part of her hoped Silence was a little irked with her showing up to his office without an appointment. "Where's the lab?"

The startled woman pointed to the left. A small sign over a service counter read 'Lab'. "How did you... What are you?"

"Don't get a lot of genies in here, do you?" Shego smiled sweetly at the receptionist and headed for the lab.

"Give us, oh, twenty minutes," the technician requested, "probably less. Simple potions take around five minutes. More complex can take... What did you say this did?"

"We think it turned three people into frogs."

"Regular frogs?"

"Giant economy-sized frogs."

"I, uh, it may take more than twenty minutes."

It did. Forty minutes later Shego was still resting on a moderately uncomfortable naugahyde chair in the waiting area when Jesse Silence came in.

Silence nodded, "You and Doctor Load were successful?"

"We believe so. Your lab is doing an analysis now."

"Did you get the name of the witch who prepared it?"

"No point in idle speculation until we know for certain if we got the potion or not."

"How long have you been waiting for the lab results?"

"I'm guessing forty-five minutes."

The witch doctor's brow wrinkled, "That is longer than I would expect. You either discovered the potion, or you have nothing and he's trying very hard to find a potion that doesn't exist."

"I'm guessing we got it... I had a question – could a potion be contaminated by being put in another substance – like, for example, if it were poured in grapefruit juice or something. Is it possible the effect would be changed from what was intended?"

"Absolutely. So, it was in grapefruit juice?"

"No, the grapefruit juice is hypothetical. The lab can say if there was contamination, right?"

"Absolutely. Top notch. How did you find us?"

"It's a genie thing."

"Not that I intend to do anything with the information until the lab results are in, but could you tell me the name of your suspect?"

"Everything in its proper time, Doctor... And here comes your lab tech."

"What did you find?" Silence demanded. "Did Ms Shego tell you what they suspected?"

"Pretty sure we have a transformation potion here. But not really one I've seen before."

"The genie believes it might have been contaminated by... What was it placed in?

The lab tech reported, "It was in a carton of half-and-half. That might have changed the properties. The half-and-half then was poured into low grade coffee and artificial sweetener added. I don't think the coffee would make a difference, but God only knows what the sweetener might have done."

As Silence studied the lab results Shego reminded him, "You thought you could whip up a potion to fix this in no time with a good analysis."

"I... I believe so. I want to do some more testing with the combination of ingredients later, but with this information I can prepare a basic antidote for your Mister Price in no time. We have the materials on hand here at the lab."

"Three doses. Turns out Price wasn't the first, or last, victim."

Silence looked at the lab tech. "How powerful is this stuff?"

"Not sure. But looks like it packs a wallop."

Shego thought she'd have to wait even longer for Dr. Silence to find a possible antidote than she had waited for the lab tech to do his work. Ten minutes later he was back with three vials. "You really know your shit."

"Excuse me?"

"I didn't think you'd get it put together so fast."

"No guarantees. I think I've got it, but will need to see. Certain elements of the potion were familiar, I think it highly probable this will counteract the curse. Shall we use your portal to go to Middleton?"

"Sure, I... Oops. Damn, left the portal closed. Let me get us there with genie magic."

"Oh, since this was the potion, the name of–"

"Alakazam!"

Shego wasn't sure whether she was glad she had kept him from her portal or not as the black man took out a notebook and made notations after arriving at the office via genie magic.

Ron and Kim were out on missions. Wade wanted to know, "Success?"

"The good doctor believes so."

The giant frog who had been moping in the corner of the waiting room was delighted to once again be Thomas Price, so much so he didn't even mind the fact he was naked.

"Alakazam!"

"Thanks... I don't even know how to begin to thank you for–"

"If it's for turning you back," Shego assured him, "don't worry about thanking us. The insurance company will thank us for you. Oh, and those clothes? They disappear at midnight – just a word of warning."

"No problem, I'll... Where are my keys?"

"I just made new clothes for you. I don't know where your..." the genie looked at the witch doctor, "Any ideas?"

"Do you remember if you were still wearing your clothes after you became a frog?"

"Uh, no. I wasn't."

Doctor Silence shook his head in amazement, "That was an amazingly powerful transformation potion. I have no idea." He glanced at Shego, "The name of your suspect?"

"Hold on, two more frogs to help. But I want to try something."

"I'd really like to know–"

"Just give me a minute." With a snap of her fingers for effect the door appeared behind her desk. She ran in and emerged with the glasses with different colored lenses. "Would you give me your opinion of Wade here?"

Dr. Silence looked mildly annoyed. "I am honored to meet him. I told you that already. I don't know–"

"Tell a lie."

"What?"

"Say the sun rises in the west."

"The sun rises in the west. What are you doing?"

"Calibrating the glasses to you. They can distinguish whether a person is telling the truth or a lie."

"What?"

"Oh, just seeing if it works on witches the way it works on everyone else."

"I find that highly offensive."

"You aren't the first person to find me offensive. I've got a list of masters who gave me lousy letters of reference. Oh, and while I can check honesty, why are you so desperate to get ahold of this witch?"

Silence let out his breath slowly and chose his words, "It appears likely the potion recipe came from an ancient text. Perhaps a lost ancient text–"

"An overdue library book?"

"The spell is similar, but not identical–"

"Hence the lab tech's confusion."

"It would be polite to let me finish a sentence. He has never read an ancient text. Highly restricted access. Some are harmful, some helpful. This witch might simply have a page – or an entire book. Whatever it is, it must be secured."

"And your plans for the witch?"

"To gain possession of the text. The OOS can offer training, if he or she wishes. We would prefer to negotiate a cash settlement – for simplicity's sake. We must not allow it to be scanned and go on-line. I will minimize any potential harm."

"So your goal is humanitarian?"

"Most assuredly. The name of the witch?"

"But first, we restore the other two victims."

Wade spoke up, "Ms Jackson is still at the bank. I have the address for Hernandez."

The witch doctor and genie vanished.

Shego reappeared a half hour later. "Everyone's back to normal."

"Good. Why haven't you mentioned your glasses that can detect a lie?"

"It'd be nice, wouldn't it? I don't have any."

"But you–"

"Lied. I told you I don't trust him."

"Did you take Doctor Silence home?"

"No, I made the offer. He said he'd find his own way back. I think he's looking for Gale Sondergaard."

"Gale Sondergaard?"

"The witch."

"The name was Margaret Hamilton."

"Ooops, my bad."

"What in the heck are you doing?"

"Told you, I don't trust him."

"He found a way to turn three people back into people. He's one of the good guys."

"Maybe. Or maybe you just think that because he's impressed by you."

"You couldn't turn them back."

"Which is beside the point."

"A witch with the power to turn people into frogs is dangerous."

"Granted. But what kind of justice does our good doctor mete out? Is he going to help her with tuition to Hogwarts or is he going to burn her at the stake? Minimizing potential harm can mean different things."

"Uh, Shego?"

"Yes?"

"There's not really a Hogwarts, is there?"

"Please don't confuse fiction with reality."