I own nothing. Least of all this.

WARNING! THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS A SCENE WITH BLOOD AND GORE! DO NOT CONTINUE IF YOU HAVE A WEAK STOMACH! YE HAVE BEEN WARNED!

1:49

"Explain again exactly why you need plastic explosives."

"It's very simple, Cas. I would very much like to destroy these little affronts to the natural order of things, and I wish to do so in such a manner that they cannot be reconstructed. And the only way to do that is to blow them all to kingdom come. And because I can't say for certain what will happen when they go boom, I need a way to detonate them remotely, preferably with three feet of concrete between me and them. Savvy?"

"…I savvy. I'll…see if I can find something. And the werewolf cure is ready to go whenever you have need of it."

"Excellent. I've already started looking for our friend with a furry little problem, and I think its safe to say he's not in England, which is good news for us."

"Yes, I can see why. If you need me, I'll be in the garage. One more thing: are you sure this room will work?"

"Sure? Of course not. Rule something or other: never be sure of anything. But will it contain the blast with minor damage to anything else? Probably. Now shoo!"

He nodded slowly, and walked away. I set to work, wrapping as many cords as I could find or conjure around the pile of Time Turners. Best not to take any chances, after all.

"Why d'you look like that?"

"…Heya Little Boss. How do you mean?"

Dudley crossed his arms. "Why d'you look like Uncle Dean?"

"…Because, Little Boss, I'm from another world. And in my world, they'd say that your Uncle Dean looked like me."

"…Oh. Watcha doin?"

I grunted. "I…am rigging…up these things…to explode."

"Cool! Why?"

"Because…there are…some bad people…who would like…to have them."

"Awesome. Can I blow 'em up?"

"…Don't see why not. So long as Cas says its okay. Why don't you go ask him?"

"Okay!"

He, well, I won't say sprinted, but moved with more than usual speed down the hall.

"You're good with kids."

"So I've been told. How long you sticking around for, Jody?"

"Why, you trying to get rid of me?"

"On the contrary. Just wondering if you'd like to tag along with Cas and I on a non-lethal hunt."

"Non-lethal? What, you're not killing the monster?"

"Not this time. Think of him as a Garth that can't control the change that also deliberately hides to avoid any trouble."

"Don't you know a cornered animal always fights its hardest?"

"Duh. We need to do our best to present ourselves as non-threatening, but we also cannot under any circumstances allow him to escape, and potentially go running to Dumbledore."

"Gotcha. So, we're gonna be keeping him here then?'

"At least until we can either cure him or get Garth up here to bite him and give him control."

"Is one werewolf really worth all that trouble?"

"He was friends with Harry's parents. And then abandoned Harry on Dumbledore's say-so. Yes, it's worth it."

"…Ah. Kay then. I'll help."

"Fantastic. Oh, and if you see Rowena, ask her if she knows or can find out anything about a group called the Silver Spears."

"Will do, boss."

I slapped myself in the face. "Boss! I knew I was forgetting something!"

"What's that?"

"Something I should have taken care of when I was last in America with Jayne. Would you mind terribly seeing if you can find Cas, and ask him if he knows how to get in contact with his Assassin friends?"

"Sure, but why?"

"Cause there's a town up in Maine I want to make double sure certain people can't find."


"Are you sure this will work?"

"Nope. Ready when you are, Little Boss."

Dudley grinned and slammed the button. "Fire!"

The walls did a little hand-jive.

"…Was that all?"

I rapped on the door. "Solid as a rock. The Letter-men certainly knew how to build 'em. Now, I have absolutely no idea what the other side looks like, so I'd recommend you all back up a bit, and then I'll go in alone."

"Are you sure that's wise?"

"If you were to inhale any of that sand, you could theoretically age five centuries in an instant. A problem for you, slightly less of one for me."

Cas and Dudley took a step back.

"Good. Right then: way down we go!"

I opened the door, and stepped through.

I was afraid of that; the dust had been atomized and ingrained into the cinder blocks themselves. They had probably been regressed in their own time streams by at least fifty years. This room would probably stand for much longer than the actual bunker would. That could be good, or bad. The ropes I had used were also completely gone; either disintegrated by the explosives, or blown so far backwards in time they didn't exist yet. I suspected the latter. I took one final look around the room, then opened the door and stepped out.

I was met with the puzzled gazes of both Cas and Dudley. "…Why did you just walk in and then directly back out again?"

"I…didn't? I was in there for half-a-minute."

"Witcher, you were in there for half-a-second."

"…Oh bollocks. Cas, can I borrow your watch?"

"It runs fast."

"Don't matter. Hand it over. I'll be right back. Hopefully."

Well, Shmebulok. The watch had completely stopped. I stepped back out, and it started up again.

"It seems…that we have created…a room where Time either doesn't pass, or passes really, really, really, slowly."

"And…that's bad?"

"Sort of. On one hand, as far as I know, you now have the most secure meeting room in the world. After all, its impossible to spy on something that simultaneously hasn't happened yet, and also happened ages ago. On the other hand, if the time dilation on the room ever catches back up with its original age, then anything and everything inside the room will either disappear into the Void, or rip a hole in Time and Space the size of Belgium."

"And if that were to happen, how long would that take?"

"No less than fifty years, I would guess. Plenty of time to fix it. If that's what we end up wanting to do. After all, it can also double as the perfect magic training room. Impossible to destroy walls, and enough time to master practically any spell you want. Rubbish for making Potions, though. And I wouldn't ever dare to try Apparition or Portkeys, or any magical transport for that matter."

"…Noted. Well, now that that's taken care of, Jody said you wished to talk to the Assassins? Something about a town that needs protecting?"

"Not so much protecting as hiding. But yes."

"…I have a Skype address I can try."

"Fantastic. Shall we?"


"…Well, I can certainly say I wasn't expecting to talk to Callum Lynch today."

"So. You know me. And I know both you and Castiel there. Now, you've managed to avoid us for quite some time, Witcher. But its finally time to get some answers from you."

"Fair's fair, Cal. I'll answer what questions I can, on the condition you do two things for me."

"And what might those be?"

"One, if you here anything about Templar activity in Maine, you crack down hard on it. There's things up there no one unprepared should be poking around in. Secondly, you find us a werewolf. Name of Remus Lupin. Probably in America, but could theoretically be in any English-speaking country."

"…It's a deal. Now, first of all, how?"

"How what?"

"How did you do it? How did you manage to not only destroy over ninety percent of the Templars' resources, but draw Rikkin out of hiding to kill him?"

"Easy. I lied and told him I was the Devil."

"…And he believed you?"

"I make a very convincing Lucifer. That, and he believed I was there to try and 'acquire the next level of vessel.'"

"And what were you really doing?"

"Rescuing a friend."

"…I don't believe that, but fine. The Apple of Eden; we know you took it. Where did you hide it?"

"Somewhere no one in this world can ever reach it. And that's all I'm saying over this connection."

"…Fair. Lastly, the Colt. We know Rikkin had it when he went to confront you, yet it wasn't recovered from his body. Do you have it?"

"I did. I left it in the same place as the Apple."

"…We could have used that."

"Yeah, and so could any number of less than savory characters. I'd really rather not have to deal with that, thank you very much. It stays where it is."

"…I don't like it, but I'll accept it. The Assassins will do as you have requested. We will do what we can in Maine, and we will find this Remus Lupin. We work in the Dark…"

"…To serve the Light. Witcher, out."

The call faded to black.

"…When he said the Apple of Eden, did he mean…"

"The one that Eve ate? Yes, yes he did. And I sort of lied about that."

I pulled it out of my pocket. "The Colt I may have left in with a friend, but its always good to have a backup plan to get home. I figured the fact that it's the original would make up for the fact we're a bit short on archangel grace. And I've already got the blood."

"How do you know all of this?"

"I thought I already told you?"

"No, no you did not!"

"Alternate world. Where I'm from. Most of this stuff has happened already. Bit differently, for instance the fact Chuck made you into a TV show instead of a book series, but close enough."

"…And did Harry and Dudley exist in your universe as stories as well?"

"Sort of; in my world Vernon Dursley was never dealt with. I couldn't let that stand, so I got rid of him and sent everyone else to what I knew was one of the safest places in the world."

"And what, you thought you could just play God?"

"There's nothing playful about this, Castiel. Some stories should be left standing, and others deserve to be changed. That's what I do; it's my job, in this world or any other. If I had a soul, I'd still do the same. And I would be more than prepared to pay the cost of my soul to do it."

"…Maybe that's exactly what happened."

"Honesty? It wouldn't surprise me. Now, its probably a good time to go see how far Rowena and Harry have gotten with their brewing studies."

"Why aren't you studying with them?"

"Not my original world, remember? Most of those Potions would be absolutely useless to someone with slightly different biology, or in some cases downright lethal. Best if I keep far away from that."

"If you're from a different world, how are you supposed to teach History of Magic?"

"That I can learn. Potions is something I would never be able to test my knowledge on myself with. Savvy?"

"…I see. So, will you be learning this world's version of spells with Harry and I as well?"

"That's the plan."

"Very well. But I would advise against testing new spells on yourself as well; I'm not confident enough in my abilities to heal you in the correct way."

"Noted. So, where has Rowena set up shop?"

"This way."


"…It looks good to me. Then again, I wouldn't know a good Forgetfulness Potion if it bit me on the rear end."

"Now dear, don't be crude in front of Harry. It sets a bad example."

"But Aunt Rowena, you were the one that…"

"No buts, Harry. Back to your stirring."

I held up my fingers and started counting off. "Forgetfulness Potion, Herbicide Potion, and cure for Boils. Not bad."

"We're gonna do the Wideye Potion next!"

"Really. You're planning to let an eleven-year-old drink the wizarding equivalent of a Monster energy drink?"

"He never said it was for him, dear."

"…Ah."

"Now shoo! We've got quite a bit more to do before we're done, and we don't need you causing any more distractions than necessary!"

"Right then. I'm off for London; should be back by dinnertime. Make sure Hedwig and…Kaa…don't cause any trouble while I'm gone."

Harry grinned. "Didn't Cas tell you? Those two figured out how to raid the refrigerator by themselves. Not much reason to be back for dinner when there's not much to have for it."

I sighed. "Good point. I'll grab something on the way back. Don't wait for me."

Rowena smiled. "Don't worry, dear. We won't."

"…Harsh. Catch you."


Things were exactly as I suspected.

I watched invisibly as lots of official looking people swarmed around in the tunnel opposite the Records room. Looks like all of the blood I left splattered around had been found, as I had meant it to. One secret entrance of Dumbledore's into the Ministry was gone. Time to see if I could arrange for some more to be discovered. Now that they knew what to look for, hopefully I wouldn't have to do the finding for them.

But first, to see what exactly Skeeter had written in her article.

It wasn't that hard to find a discarded Daily Prophet; the Leaky Cauldron wasn't exactly the cleanest of places. I had to say, Skeeter had really outdone herself with this one.

"SENIOR UNDERSECRETARY CONFESSES! UMBRIDGE RISKS ALL!" Well, that was dramatic. Oh dear. Skeeter had focused on the people Umbridge had been dealing with on her new anti-werewolf legislation. That would make things deucedly awkward when the message I had left was revealed. At least Malfoy's name wasn't on the list; Skeeter wasn't stupid enough to tick off anyone that powerful. Yet. Still, Malfoy would probably be biting all of his nails off right about now. Hopefully Dobby would end up pulling through for me; and with the good points I gained with old Lucius for helping to make him look like a saint for saving the Longbottoms, he would be more than happy to sell me the poor fellow. For a very good price, of course.

And wouldn't the Aurors be confused when Fenrir Greyback showed up dead in what should have been a revenge killing for Umbridge, but in the exact same place and manner as Umbridge herself.

Time to put that second copy of Umbridge's records to good use.

I pulled out the note I had written for one Amelia Bones, Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, as well as a package containing the afore-mentioned documents. I had already gone through them and copied them to my visor's hard drive, as well as Vanishing with a capital V any concerning either Greengrass or Malfoy. I needed both of them respected, for now, and throwing mud at either of them would only get it on myself as well.

I quickly double-checked over what I had written for the iron-hearted Director:

"Director Bones: This cost me a pretty penny to acquire from the infamous Miss Skeeter, but it was worth it. I sincerely apologize for not being able to get it to you sooner. Please take it in good faith, as a sign I wish both you and your department well. Perhaps in the future, more arrangements of this sort may be conducted on more equal footing. Your fellow servant of Justice, Lord Howlfang-Ravenclaw-Slytherin."

I attached it to the package, and walked into the Post-Owl Office. Three minutes later, a nondescript brown barn owl was winging its way towards the Ministry. Hopefully that would keep me in Bones' good graces long enough to avoid any trouble with the Longbottoms, as well as keep Dumbledore from sticking his nose into the affair.

I made my way back down the Alley, out the Cauldron, and into London proper. It was time to put to good use the information I had gotten from Umbridge and hit the first two targets on my list: Madame Edgecombe, responsible for shutting off Floo access during Death Eater raids in the last war, and Corban Yaxley, the Death Eater master of the Imperio, hidden within the Ministry itself during Voldemort's rise. Both had gotten away scot-free, and I intended to fix that. And now was the perfect time to begin. The Ministry would in all likelihood be completely closed today, considering what was in the front lobby. Edgecombe and Yaxley would both probably be home, horrified and terrified respectively. They would probably be even more so once they realized their bodies would be joining that of Umbridge very, very soon.

But not until the Prophet story on Umbridge's death came out. I needed Wizarding to draw the correlation between an information leak, the murder of the leaker, and then a string of murders of Death Eaters and their sympathizers.

I was just finishing up at Yaxley's house (you'd think a man who managed to Imperius the Director of Magical Law Enforcement would be a bit more paranoid about being caught), when I spied a copy of the Prophet lying on his desk. One clearly labeled "SPECIAL EDITION!"

There was really only one thing it could be.

I unfolded it, and a picture of the corpse of Dolores Umbridge greeted my eyes. How on Gallifrey Skeeter could get away with such a grotesque image, I don't know.

She had been strung up on the statue that stood in the Ministry's atrium, suspended by her arms and her neck on the main centerpiece. Her tongue hung completely out of her mouth and halfway down her torso. In front on the ground lay a small pile of ash, what had once been her heart. A sign hung from her neck as well, painted in her own blood:

HUMAN RACE.

GREATEST MONSTERS OF THEM ALL.

I briefly wondered if the Master would appreciate the irony of using his statement, considering exactly what I had used to string up the toad:

Her own intestines, magically reinforced and twisted around her entire body.

All in all, a spectacular display, if I do say so myself.

I stuffed the paper into my coat (perhaps I would frame and hang it later), and went back to work. After all, Yaxley wasn't gonna gut himself. Well, at least with any degree of competence. His heart just wouldn't be in it.