It has been a lifetime since I updated. I watched the recent film, and I am uninterested in delving into any of that so this chapter takes place after *spoiler alert* Grindelwald escapes yet again.
"How does this work again?" The whispered voice pulled Helen's attention away from the binoculars just long enough to watch the young wizard fumble with the rifle as if it were some magical creature about to bite him.
Handing the binoculars to Newt, Helen hoisted the rifle to the young man's shoulder, placed his hands in their proper position, and walked him through the mechanisms for the fortieth time. He wasn't the only wizard to be dumbfounded by the muggle munitions they'd brought with them for this jailbreak. Pistols, grenades, flares guns, dynamite, and other things that went "boom" had been handed out, and the wizards were briefed on how to use the devices without getting themselves boomed in the process. Yet it seemed some of the more novice in the ways of muggles were thicker of skull when it came to basic mechanics.
"Do you think this will work?" Newt handed Helen the binoculars back once she was satisfied with the young wizard's passing fair ability to not shoot off his own toe.
Grunting her initial answer, Helen returned the binoculars to her eyes and returned her gaze to the fortress they were about to assault. It was a foolhardy plan, a desperate one, and that was the only reason why she'd been brought along for its implementation. How else to overwhelm a fortress of superior forces of wizards and rescue allies than to turn the tides on them before the battle even began? It was doubtful those within the fortress had many, if any, muggle weapons to use to fight back with, making their rag tag group of would-be commandos armed with muggle mayhem all the better for potential success. They just had to get her close enough, and keep her alive long enough, to get in, get those captured, and get out.
"You wouldn't have gone through all the trouble of tracking me down and dragging me out into this cold if you didn't think it could work, Mister Scamander." Helen lowered the binoculars and studied the curly-haired brother of the man she hoped to rescue. "The better question would be, do I think we will get through this with all our allies alive and rescue all the prisoners? And no, I do not. Someone is either going to get very hurt or very dead in the process, and that goes for both sides. I hope you are ready for that."
The gentle soul nodded. He'd barely changed since Helen had last seen him. There was a stronger resilience about his shoulders, perhaps a steadying confidence, but for the most part, he seemed much the same as when he'd smashed his case against her face back in Wales. It had been a surprise to find a note left for her from a Mister S, passed on by a friend's friend's friend. After Theseus had left her on the cliffside, expecting her to retreat to the islands as they'd planned, Helen had figured the best place to hide was in plain sight and returned to her practice and home. However, she kept a lower profile than before and refused to see any new patients.
Newt was quite different from his brother in a number of ways, including his reasoning skills, and had been able to deduce her rationale enough to track her down and recruit her for this mission. But not without Helen bringing a few allies of her own. Working along the line of wizards were Gruffyd, Afan, Lowri, and Derwyn. Whatever magic the Scamander brothers had tried to pull on the men at her first kidnapping had not been strong enough to wipe away the men's paranoia that someone or something was liable to snatch her away at any time. So it had taken little convincing to activate the veterans to arms when she spun a wee tale about Theseus being taken hostage by fanatical Fascists in the Swiss Alps.
And now here they were, a group of Welsh veterans arming wizards they knew not to be wizards with muggle weapons about to assault a known wizard fortress in the hopes of saving yet more wizards from the evil clutches of those loyal to Grindelwald. What could possibly go wrong?
"Disgleirio fel ceilliau ci," Derwyn came marching up to them, his curse giving away his identity long before the sight of him in the dying light of day, "Are we are aren't we going to fecking do this? I'm freezing my bollocks off out here."
Helen tucked away the binoculars before pulling out her pistol. Staring down the line of allies one last time, she nodded, "We fecking are."