Chapter Five: The Second Betrayal

Greg had no sooner gotten into his office when someone burst through the door. The lieutenant turned from inspecting the new paperwork on his desk and arched a pointed brow. "So nice of you to knock, Junior Auror Queenscove."

"Sir, can I get a scan of your magical signature?" Neal blurted.

A second brow joined the first one and Parker absently wished he had a set of glasses he could take off. "You couldn't get it from your father?"

"No, I did, but it doesn't make sense," the brunet replied, running his hands through his hair and displacing his fringe. "Your magical signature matches to the keys on the potion bottles and the compulsion spell, but when Amy got close to you with one, you ran away. You shouldn't have been able to do that."

A frisson of something darted up his spine and the stocky man straightened. "What are you talking about?"

Neal latched onto him and towed him out of his office; Greg opted not to fight the wizard, though he did pull his wrist free and waved for the young man to lead the way. As they walked, Neal explained, "A keyed spell is dangerous because it bypasses your magic's ability to sense foreign magic. From what my Dad told me, Wild Magic is a natural at that; that's why you're resistant to mind-magics; but regular wizarding magic can do it, too."

Parker nodded. "So people who can fight off the Imperius, their magic is better at sensing foreign magic?"

The brunet halted, jaw dropping open as he stared at his superior. "Say that again."

Eyeing the Junior Auror, Parker resisted the urge to snicker. "I know the common explanation is that someone with exceptional willpower can resist it, but think about it. From the way Ed and Wordy described the curse, victims are in a state of euphoria; they obey the orders they're given because they want to. Wouldn't it make sense that if a victim's magic can detect the curse, they've got a better chance of resisting it or throwing it off?"

Emerald eyes narrowed in thought and Neal rubbed his chin. "And the more sensitive a victim's magic is to foreign influence, the more their own magic fights back." Nodding to himself, he muttered, "Might have to run that past Dad, see what he thinks."

Returning to the topic at hand, Greg asked, "But since a keyed spell appears to be a victim's own magic, it can slip in under the radar?"

Reminded of why he'd come looking for Parker in the first place, the brunet turned and started moving again. "Right on the money, Lieutenant," he replied. "Ordinarily, you'd probably be able to throw off all but the most powerful compulsion spell, but since your magic thought it was your native magic…"

"It worked," Greg finished softly.

"More than that, sir; a keyed spell is twice as potent as a regular spell."

Parker restrained a low whistle at the information. "That explains why I couldn't think about anything but Marina."

"Yes, sir," Neal agreed. "You're lucky Lord Calvin was able to get to you so quickly; my Dad thinks the potion could've caused permanent damage if it hadn't been purged from your system within two hours of taking it."

Greg shuddered at the thought even as he shunted aside any and all speculation of how it could've gotten worse. "So what happened on Saturday?"

Keen jade shifted to him. "Why don't you tell me, Lieutenant? When you saw Amy with that potion bottle, what were your emotions?"

"Fear," Greg replied at once. A frown emerged. "Mostly fear, but I think I felt revolted, too."

"Like it was pushing you away?" Neal inquired.

"Wouldn't a compulsion be pulling me closer?"

"Absolutely," Neal replied. "Especially since we know all the bottles had compulsion spells keyed to your known magical signature."

"So why didn't it work?" the lieutenant pressed.

"That's the million Galleon question, sir." As he spoke, Neal swept into Commander Locksley's office. Parker followed, but he was wary. Despite his own rank and status, why did a simple compulsion/love potion combo rate Locksley's personal involvement?

Inside the office, the graying blonde surveyed her two subordinates. "Queenscove?"

"Not yet, ma'am; I didn't want to risk damaging Lieutenant Parker's computer," Neal reported. Drawing his wand, he summoned a blank sheet of parchment from the desk; Parker's brows shot up at Locksley's lack of complaint, but he held still as the young Auror captured his magical signature on the parchment.

Commander Locksley leaned forward and proffered a second parchment as Neal placed the parchment back on her desk. Edging in from the side, Parker watched as Neal slid the two pieces of parchment together, examining them intently. Then he made a soft exclamation and drew back, waving his wand. The results projected upwards, then narrowed in on the same spot for each sheet. Despite the fact that both held the lieutenant's magical signature, when the movement stopped, there was clearly a difference between the floating images.

"By Morgana and the Morrigan," Locksley swore. "Parker, how in Merlin's name did you pull that off?"

"Pull what off?" Greg asked, thoroughly confused.

"It's like changing your fingerprints, sir," a new voice chirped. All three Aurors turned to see Junior Auror Amy Sciuto in the doorway. The tech-born witch beamed and moved inside the office. "Or maybe more like changing your DNA, sir."

"It should be impossible," Greg whispered.

"Exactly," Amy confirmed, excitement growing. "That's why you ran away on Saturday. A keyed spell is really powerful, but if it doesn't match your magical signature perfectly, all that power disappears like that." She snapped her fingers for emphasis. "It's worse than useless; those compulsion spells won't work on anyone now. Neither will the love potions."

Parker's jaw fell open. Beside him, Neal was nodding. "She's right, Lieutenant. That's the downside to a keyed spell. Once you key it, it's that magical signature or nothing. You've got to get it right the first time or start over."

His teeth clicked shut. "That's why you introduce flaws in any magical signatures on file."

"Precisely," Commander Locksley concurred, pulling attention to herself. Her smile was thin. "Outside of our division, the Healers, and perhaps the Unspeakables, people generally hold that three flaws are necessary to disable the use of a keyed spell, but in reality, any one flaw will do. We use three as a precaution." Her smile broadened. "Yours will now have four, but I don't believe that will be a serious concern." She gestured to the two pieces of parchment. "Auror Queenscove, burn those while Parker is still here. I will not risk exposure of his true magical signature."

"Yes, ma'am," Neal agreed, levitating both sheets. "Should I document the discrepancy first?"

"You should," Greg interjected. He grimaced as attention turned to him. "I appreciate the precaution, Commander, but the fact that the first bottle worked is an important element of the case. The others should have worked, too, but I assume that since I'd already succumbed to the compulsion on the first bottle, the others couldn't enspell me until I was clear of the initial compulsion."

"That would be correct, Auror Lieutenant Parker," Locksley agreed. "Two identical compulsion spells cannot work on the same victim at the same time." She regarded the parchments thoughtfully. "At the same time, I do not believe we need to record that your signature changed. Only the four of us here are aware of what occurred when Queenscove and Sciuto were at your apartment." She nodded. "Queenscove, get rid of them both and have your father make you a new copy of Parker's old signature. That will go in the file, but make sure that anyone who attempts to create a fresh copy ends up cursed."

Greg swallowed any objections. To curse someone who copied his old magical signature seemed extreme, but then again, the wizarding world often approved of extreme reactions. And he did appreciate Commander Locksley's effort to protect him from any future attempts to use a keyed spell against him. So he watched the two sheets of parchment vanish into a pile of ash, then headed back to work. He still had a mountain of paperwork ahead of him – and then he needed to check on Team One and make sure they'd recovered from Friday evening's debacle. While he was at it, he needed to apologize for the May Dalton hot call. Commander Holleran's plan had been a good one, but since he and Team One had managed to mend fences, it wasn't likely that they'd ever confront him themselves over his behavior. Even if he did deserve it.


On his way back to his office, Greg checked the duty roster, a smile crossing his face at the sight of his team's names on it. A little voice at the back of his mind hissed former team, but for once, the lieutenant ignored the prod. No, he wasn't a member of Team One anymore, but they were his – and he was theirs. Denying that truth had just hurt all of them. Lance had been right on the mark with his letter – he could still be Team One even if he was their lieutenant now. Even if he went strictly by technicalities, Team One was still his. Just like every team in the SRU was his now. As the SRU's second-in-command, all the teams reported to him, so in a way, he was a member of every team now.

Turning his steps towards the atrium, Greg organized his approach. Now that he was thinking about it, maybe he should just apologize and get it over with. The paperwork would still be there when he was done, but who knew when Team One would get a hot call. Or… His steps slowed. Who knew when it would be too late to apologize? A twinge of shame surfaced even as he lengthened his stride. Eddie hadn't deserved the cold, unfeeling mask he'd used that evening and none of them had deserved his unilateral decision to cut them out of May's arrest. Even though he'd been concerned their Animagus instincts might lead to a power struggle, he still should've given them the chance to override those instincts.

But as Greg drew nearer to the atrium, he overheard Kira on her headset, rapping out information. The trademark sign of a hot call in progress and odds were… His heart sank as he heard Sam's name, followed by Lou's. Yep; Team One hot call. Figured. Just when he'd decided to suck it up and apologize, he couldn't. With a heavy, regretful sigh, Parker turned back towards his office, silently wishing his team well with their hot call and ignoring the pang that ran through his gut. He didn't regret Eddie's promotion, but some days… Life had been so much simpler as Team One's Sergeant.


The majority of his paperwork was straightforward, if tedious, but Lieutenant Parker shook his head as he regarded the paperwork from Team Two. Neither Sergeant Roenick nor his team leader, Constable Argento, appeared to have learned from the first time they'd submitted incomplete paperwork and he'd made them do it all over again. Or the second time – or even the third time. Despite all evidence to the contrary, they seemed to be under the impression that he would complete their paperwork for them.

Thinking for a long moment, Greg leaned back in his chair and rummaged in his desk for a black marker. Pulling it out, he went through Team Two's paperwork again and carefully marked each and every incomplete area with the marker, covering all the blank lines to ensure that the paperwork would have to be done from the very start. Once he was done with the marker, he went back to the beginning, traded the marker for a red pen, and wrote out a warning on the top of each page: If you submit any more incomplete paperwork, I won't give you another chance to do it over. Instead, you'll be receiving a letter of reprimand and next will be a suspension without pay.

Satisfied with his threat, Parker checked to see if he had any more pending paperwork, then allowed a truly evil smirk out and started folding each and every page of Team Two's paperwork into paper airplanes. It was a shame he couldn't ask any of the Aurors to animate the planes, but by the time Roenick and Argento got done unfolding all their paperwork, they'd hopefully be annoyed enough at him to either shape up or go to Holleran. And seeing as the problem was their refusal to do their own paperwork, Greg didn't think his commander would give them so much as an ounce of sympathy.


An hour later, Greg was testing out his creations with short flights from his desk to the far wall when his phone rang. With a mock sigh of regret, he picked up the device, smiling when he saw his nephew's name on the caller ID. Well, well, well – give a teenager a couple days to rest and recuperate and he was up in time for lunch. Perhaps he could find a way to work in a weekday visit to the gun range if his kids could get their homework done before dinner. Or he could offer either a Tuesday or a Wednesday outing; Lance might be hard pressed to get all his make-up work done in one evening.

Smiling even wider, Greg picked up the call. "Hey, kiddo, how you doing?"

"Greg?"

Shoulders went stiff and the smile dropped away. Marina. "How did you get that phone?" the lieutenant hissed, rising from his seat as fury pulsed. "Where's Lance?"

"Greg, please, help."

"Marina, I don't know how the heck you got my nephew's phone, but you put him on. Right now."

"I can't," Marina sobbed. "Greg, you have to hurry." With that, she gasped out an address and hung up.

Parker froze at the soft bleep in his ear, signaling the end of the call. Snatching up one of the paper airplanes he hadn't launched, he yanked it open and grabbed a pen, scrawling down the address Marina had just given him on the back of the crumpled page. In the back of his mind, he gave thanks for Jules' proposal on how to improve his handwriting; he still had a ways to go, but his writing had finally progressed to the point of being readable even without magical assistance.

Straightening, Greg checked for his sidearm, his thumb brushing against the grip as it sat in the same holster he'd used as a Sergeant. His other hand clipped his phone to his belt and the lieutenant turned towards the door, stride increasing with each step as he darted out of his office and raced for the atrium.

Skidding into the atrium, he caught a flash of an SRU team out of the corner of his eye, but focused on Kira. The blonde dispatcher's head snapped to him, catching the tangible aura of terror surrounding him. "Sarge?"

"Kira, hot call," Greg ordered, slamming the paper down on her counter. "That address. And track my nephew's cell; it should be in the system already."

"Yes, sir," Kira replied, fingers already flying on her keyboard. "Team Three is ready to go."

"Belay that," another voice rapped out; Parker felt someone moving up next to him. "We got this one, Kira," Ed Lane insisted.

"But you just got back," Kira protested. "And…"

"Doesn't matter," Ed countered, steady blue turning to meet Greg's hazel. "Team One! Let's move!"

Just like that, everything was back to what it had been. Before Eddie's promotion, before his own promotion. Team One, united and raring to go. But there wasn't time to dwell. Lieutenant Greg Parker whirled and raced for the trucks, his team right on his heels.