Chapter Nine: Raid on the Barn

Both Lou and Spike did their best to protest – a dangerous raid on the barn was no place for a young teenager – but in spite of not being able to say a word, Illishar won the argument, merely staring them into submission with a 'I am going to do this and you are not going to stop me' expression. Not so much as an ear twitched as his strength and force of personality silenced them. Spike had to wonder how a gryphon with minimal expressive capability had managed to pack all of that into a stare.

Having won the argument, Illishar turned to Archangel, cocking his head in question. The constables glanced at each other, somehow understanding the silent query. Then Spike huffed a sigh, shoulders slumping as he asked, "You in?"

Archangel studied him in turn, a tight, closed expression on his face. Then he flicked a glance at his assistant. "Sir," she replied, stepping forward. "It's up to you, but if these…people get away with this, we'll likely have to deal with them again down the line."

Translation: Go for it, Spike thought in amusement. He had a feeling he was missing a big chunk of the back story, particularly given the curiously devious glint in Lou's eyes. But that hardly mattered. They needed help if they were going to stop the bad guys.

The one-eyed spy gave a clipped nod, then turned to Lou, visible eyebrow rising. "And who will be leading this operation, Constable Young?"

Lou swallowed hard and cast a desperate look at Spike. No Sergeant, no team leader…had they ever been in a situation where they were the only ones left standing? Heck, aside from a little cross-training and a hot call here or there, neither of the two constables even had team leader experience. Ed, Wordy, and Sam had always handled it, covering each other so adeptly that the three remaining team members didn't have to.

Illishar let out an insistent squawk-yowl, somehow managing to stand even straighter despite the horrific pain he had to be in. Spike hadn't forgotten how ripped up those front feet were and the look on Lou's face at the state of Illishar's paws…

"Absolutely not!" Lou snapped before Spike could. "We shouldn't even be letting you come."

Illishar turned, gryphon eyes somehow narrowing in Lou's direction. The tan-skinned constable returned the glare, but Spike shivered at the battle of wills. When had Illishar started channeling his late uncle so well? It felt like a combination of Sarge's disappointment that they weren't comprehending some important factor and his disapproval in those few times he'd truly believed his strategy was better than anything his teammates could come up with – and they were stupid enough to argue.

The standoff lasted less than thirty seconds, then Lou dropped his gaze in unspoken surrender, his body language communicating submission to the Animagus. Spike opened his mouth only to freeze as Illishar turned to him, fairly radiating dominance. A dominance that the bomb tech's conscious mind didn't understand, even as his own gaze dropped and he found himself reacting to the gryphon with the same instinctive submission as Lou.

Archangel's eye narrowed, his expression turning to one of appraisal, calculation, and a touch of speculation. With a nod, he, too, deferred to the Animagus. Addressing Illishar directly, he said, "I'll contact Hawke and arrange a meeting location."

In a dignified manner, the gryphon returned the nod. Then, as the Firm agent made his call, he curled around Spike, rumbling a squrr that drew an answering joy from the bomb tech's soul. He and Lou were definitely missing something, but what?


Greg was pleased to see an awake, aware Wordy with the three Airwolf pilots. The real surprise was the ghostly black and white wolf that shone with – and smelt of – both Dark and Light magic. She pranced around him and he thought he heard a brief chortle through the 'team sense', but it was faint and indistinct.

Nevertheless, he cast her a slight glare for fooling around and let out a sharp growl-trill. There was a time and place for cavorting, but this wasn't it. Not with so many lives on the line. The Obscurus stopped bouncing, her wolfish expression distinctly sulky at the rebuke.

Wordy focused on Lou and Spike with need so desperate it was almost obsessive. "Ed?"

"Paramedics took him to the hospital," Lou reported at once. He gestured to Greg. "You can yell at Illishar later."

The Sergeant opted not to object; he was fairly certain any objection would be misunderstood as 'Lance' trying to squirm out of trouble rather than him trying to say he wasn't Illishar. In any event, they had more important things to worry about – and he still needed to finagle command away from an emotionally and possibly even physically compromised Wordy. Without being able to speak. Joy. Or… Perhaps not… Greg cast a speculative glance at the American spy standing next to him with a faintly amused expression.

Archangel seemed to have already sussed out what was going on. Enroute to the rendezvous, Greg had overheard him asking a few…casual questions of Spike and Lou. Mostly about when they'd found out about magic, though nothing directly about who might've told them. The men had answered the timeline questions readily, though they definitely would've clammed up if the spy had specifically asked about Greg's nipotes. If the Sergeant's private suspicions were correct, then his former teammates had essentially confirmed Archangel's theory that Team One had discovered magic immediately after his nipotes arrived. Plus, in a move that all but confirmed the Sergeant's own theory, after getting his answers, Archangel had carefully reached in the truck's back compartment to rub the gryphon's head feathers, brushing enough dirt and soot off to reveal the gray and silver beneath. As yet, the blond hadn't said anything, but if he was even half as smart as Greg thought – he knew.

Indeed, just as Wordy's attention swapped to Greg, indignation blazing and already drawing breath to yell, the American discreetly cleared his throat. "Another time, Constable Wordsworth," he ordered. His one eye turned to a familiar brunet. "Hawke?"

Hawke grunted unhappily. "They've bunkered in," he drawled. "They know we're coming and they're sticking close enough that the Lady won't be able to pull what she did at the apartment complex."

Greg cocked his head to the side. What had the Obscurus done at the apartment complex? To his surprise, everyone save himself and Revan jumped, then Lou scowled at the ghostly wolf. "Hey, don't yell," he objected. "And we know what you did, thanks."

Oh. Fussbudget. He'd been right; the Obscurus had been trying to talk to him, but she couldn't. No more than he could talk to his team so long as a certain blasted collar remained in place. Aside from flattening his ears, the gryphon didn't react to the wolf's clear confusion. Once had been enough; he needed to keep all four feet on the ground for the foreseeable future. With an air of expectation, he returned his attention to Hawke, waiting for more information.

"How bad is it?" Spike asked.

"Hard to tell," Wordy replied, tone terse. "The Lady can tell whose got magic and who doesn't, but we've got Aurors in the barn, too."

Greg nodded sharply; they couldn't simply assume anyone with magic was a Neo Death Eater, not with their colleagues in the line of fire. Shifting his stance from dignified to battle-ready, he let out a low hissing trill. Waiting would just let the enemy get more entrenched; they had to go in and they had to assume everyone inside the barn was hostile until proven otherwise.

"We run right in and we're gonna be in the line of fire," Lou argued.

The gryphon snorted. Of course they were, but not if he went in first. Considering, he glanced at the Obscurus, tilting his head. She let out a yip and moved to be right next to him. In one move, Greg whirled and bounded to land next to Hawke, then leapt sideways to Spike before making one last jump to Lou. The Obscurus followed him, deliberately a beat behind.

"Leapfrog in," Hawke murmured, expression thoughtful. "Is that it, Lady?"

Greg nodded, watching in interest as all the humans – Revan included – looked to the wolf, as if she'd said something. She probably had – he just couldn't hear her with the collar around his neck. Very, very privately, he hoped she wouldn't drop the bomb; that was the last thing his former team needed right before a tactical operation. As much as he wanted them to know, wanted to really, truly be home, saving lives came first.

It always would.


Wordy was not a happy camper. Although he'd won the argument of whether or not the Lady would be coming with them – decidedly not – he'd lost the war of who was in command. Much to his internal horror, as soon as he'd said he was leading the operation, Illishar had fixed him with a stare, expectation radiating, right along with an unshakable confidence that he would give in and surrender.

Indignation fueled his return glare; he most certainly was not handing operational command over to a seventeen-year-old wizard! Except as those hazel eyes bored into his, he'd found his stubborn, unbreakable will faltering. Fists clenched and his glare grew stronger, but as the moment hung, his will faded, bit by bit. Illishar's gaze remained steady, unwavering with something…indefinable in those eerie eagle eyes that looked…like his. In the end, Wordy's head lowered of its own accord, shoulders slumping and his body communicating complete submission to the Animagus. He didn't know why he'd given in, only that it had been impossible to do otherwise. Something deep within him had responded to Illishar and he had a feeling that Lou and Spike had felt that same…something. An influence, a whisper, heck, maybe even just instinct.

Whatever it was, here they were, heading into an SRU Headquarters controlled by Neo Death Eaters, with virtually all their fellow SRU members under the Imperius. They had three SRU constables, two American spies, and three American helicopter pilots – albeit combat helicopter pilots. And they were following a gryphon. An Animagus who couldn't speak and wasn't even an adult yet! All of that and he didn't have a doubt that they were going to win. Handily and without breaking a sweat. He just didn't have a clue why he believed that so stridently.


Rather than charge in the barn's front door, Greg led the assault force around to another entrance. It was dusty and hardly ever used because it was meant for building maintenance. The narrow door opened into equally narrow corridors, but there were access points in almost every part of the building. Even better, few members of the SRU knew about the maintenance areas, even the Sergeants. Greg himself had found out about the narrow passages from Commander Holleran, though he still didn't know why his commander had told him about the tunnel-like corridors.

The one snag in their entry plan was the locked door, but Archangel picked the lock almost before Wordy rattled the door in frustration. Bemused, Greg led the way inside, internally wincing at how much tighter the corridors were to his gryphon form. Ignoring the fact that his gryphon instincts were more than a touch claustrophobic, the Sergeant headed for the corridor that ran right near the atrium. Once there, he nudged Revan to the front and cast Wordy an expectant look.

"Detection spell, Revan," Wordy muttered, either magically reading Greg's mind or just thinking along the same lines.

"Copy," the young wizard agreed, waving his wand in movements that the Sergeant knew well. The wall in front of them seemed to fade, revealing the sight of Winnie and Team Three fortified in the atrium, all of the Imperiused cops facing the outer door with weapons up. Greg frowned internally, inspecting the layout carefully. After a minute, his tail curled and he reared up to paw at the image of Winnie. She was close to the maintenance door and – even better – alone. If they could take her out, they'd be able to use the dispatcher desk for cover.

Not that Greg intended it to get that far. No, they needed stealth all the way. Sleeper holds and carefully picking one target off at a time. With so many under the curse, Greg was hoping the Neo Death Eaters were spread too thin for their victims to be effective. Dumb as rocks and too stupid to know better was infinitely preferable at the moment. Unfortunately, even if the victims were oblivious, the wizards wouldn't be…

Well, first things first. Greg turned his head to Lou and let out a low rumble.

The constable crept forward, frowning when he got a good look at Greg's position. "Winnie first?"

A sharp nod.

Spike looked unhappy, but he didn't argue as Lou eased the door open and made his move without hesitation. In less than a minute, he'd dragged Winnie back to the rest, limp and unconscious. Revan applied a sleep spell to keep her out and the group snuck from the maintenance corridors to the dispatcher's desk with none of their targets the wiser.

Greg kept a sharp eye out, as did Revan, but not a single Neo Death Eater appeared as the whole of Team Three was taken down via sleeper holds without a single spell or shot fired. Once the officers were down and safely spelled asleep, the raiders turned to Revan for more information.

"Who's on-duty?" Wordy asked, low, but not whispering.

Revan scowled. "We were off till tomorrow," he replied, indicating Team Three. "Holleran called us in, don't know why."

Greg winced; that meant Teams Two and Four were on-duty and likely Imperiused. An idea occurred and he nudged Spike, deliberately prodding at his constable's phone.

"You need my phone?" Spike asked, bemused for an instant before his eyes lit up and he pulled it off his belt. The others watched, confused until the bomb tech held his phone out and a three-dimensional map leapt up, showing the barn and the location of every single occupant.

Archangel leaned forward, avarice in his eyes. "Does that work everywhere?" he questioned.

Lou shook his head. "Most places don't have enough ambient magic for a map like this," he replied, indicating Spike's phone. "Toronto has a few minor ley lines; that's why the Canadian magical government is here."

The greed faded into disappointment and the spy tipped his chin in acceptance. His assistant and the brunette pilot were just as disappointed, but Hawke and Dom looked faintly relieved; Greg suspected they didn't want their spy friends involved in the magical world and he couldn't disagree. If American spies started using magic in their day-to-day activities, it wouldn't be long before they attracted the attention of the magical government. Given his own team's experiences, the results wouldn't be anything good.

"Guys, looks like there's only three people in Holleran's office," Spike broke in. "We could probably take them by surprise."

"Copy that, Spike," Wordy agreed, only to wince at Greg's low growl-hiss of rebuke.

Although Parker was pleased that Wordy seemed to be recovering his mental footing, he needed to maintain authority and control over the operation, especially since his former team thought he was a seventeen-year-old teenager. He had a feeling they already knew the truth, reacting to him on a subconscious level even as their conscious minds remained blind to his identity, convinced they were dealing with Lance.

At the same time, to disregard Spike's advice and intel was utter foolishness and he had no intention of doing so. There wasn't a 'secret' way into Holleran's office, so another strategy was needed. In fact, it was time to apply a bit of shock and awe, using himself as a diversion to let his human allies take down their Imperiused targets.

The gryphon moved, staying low as he stalked towards their next target; behind him, the humans were just as quiet as they kept up with their Animagus leader. Near the office, Parker flinched internally, but forced himself to lift one forefoot. Pain shrieked from his opposite foot, but he managed to flex his talons in a rough, makeshift SRU hand signal before dropping the foot back down.

Wordy, the closest behind him, murmured, "Copy that, Boss," and leapfrogged to the opposite side of Holleran's door. The team leader signaled his teammates, ordering Spike to stay next to Greg while Lou shifted to a third position. Revan joined Wordy, wand at the ready, but the Americans hung back, recognizing that the office was too small for all of them to charge in. They'd just get in each other's way if they all attacked at once. At one last signal from Wordy, Spike reached out, turning the knob as slowly and silently as he could manage.

Greg stiffened, then lunged, ramming the door open and landing inside with a furious snarl-hiss. The men inside whipped towards him, bringing their weapons up, but the Sergeant's sixth sense shrieked. On Team Three and Winnie, he'd been able to see the curse, skating over their skin and smelling of wrongness. But none of the officers in front of him smelled of that wrongness and there was no sign of that sickly green-yellow hue on them.

Alarm shot through him and the gryphon moved, blocking Wordy and Lou before they could attack; with Wordy in the way, Revan couldn't get a clear shot with his wand, but that was good. For one precious instant, he was pressed against both his former constables and an instinctive order shot through his head: Stand down. Team One, stand down.

They couldn't hear him, but Greg's blocking maneuver delayed both sides enough that Commander Holleran realized what was going on. "Wordsworth, OMAC code," he snapped, bringing the fight to a screeching halt.

"No one way trips on my team," Wordy replied, lowering his gun hastily. "Sir?"


Wordy was horrified; they'd never considered that anyone inside the barn might've escaped the Imperius. His teammates had lowered their weapons as soon as Commander Holleran invoked the OMAC codes, but the two Team Four constables were still eyeing Illishar with great suspicion, weapons partially up.

"Easy, guys, Illishar's okay," Spike put in, easing forward to put himself between the gryphon and their fellow officers.

Holleran arched a brow, eyeing the gryphon himself. "Diversion?"

Wordy nodded. "Then Revan would've hit all of you with a sleep spell," he confessed.

Surprise flashed, then approval. "I assume you've already taken Team Three down?"

"Yes, sir, and Winnie," Wordy confirmed. "We, ah, we figured with only three people…"

He trailed off sheepishly, but Commander Holleran shook his head. "No, Wordsworth, it was a good plan." He indicated the two Team Four constables. "If not for Young and Hopper here, you would've been right."

Lou blinked at the curly-haired brunet's last name, but Wordy rallied. "Yes, sir," he acknowledged. Glancing at the pair, the team leader asked, "Where's the rest of your team?"

Blue narrowed as Young scowled. "We were in the briefing room when they got in," he explained. "They got the Sarge first, then Mordred and Lancelot. Percy and I managed to duck out the back way, but everyone else…" Still scowling, Young turned away, shame bowing his shoulders at the failure to save his teammates.

"Hey," Wordy countered, gentle and firm at the same time. "We're gonna get them back. Our team got Imperiused, too, only me 'n' Lou left, but we got 'em back. Don't give up on them."

Young swung back, blue meeting gray and the tall, bearded man thoughtful. There was something familiar about him – and his teammate, too – but Wordy was running on fumes. He just didn't have the energy or brainpower to spare for the mystery.

Then the other constable spoke up, the light in Holleran's office reflecting off a brunet buzzcut a centimeter or two longer than either Wordy's or Lou's. "So what's the plan?"

Wordy turned to Spike; the bomb tech nodded and pulled out his phone. In seconds, the map was floating above the screen and the SRU constables got down to planning.


Greg didn't interfere with the planning. Constable Leon Young was Team Four's team leader and Constable Percival Hopper was to Team Four what Wordy was to Team One. They also knew about magic. Greg knew they knew about magic because, unlike his former teammates, he'd recognized them. He'd recognized the names they'd used, too, and he suspected the Neo Death Eaters were going to get a nasty surprise as soon as Lancelot saw him.

The Knights of Camelot walked among the living once more. Greg had known that; he'd just never expected that the Knights would appear in Toronto, much less in the SRU itself. Hazel lifted, eyeing the Knights in a rather sidelong fashion. A key question remained. Would the Knights trust magic after how much it had taken from them? Would they be willing to trust magic after, yet again, they'd been violently assaulted by its darkest practitioners?


Leon frowned as he followed a dirty, sooty gryphon through corridors in the SRU that he hadn't even known existed. According to Team One, the magical animal was actually a wizard – he'd bit his tongue to keep from saying sorcerer – and he was the seventeen-year-old nephew of their former Sergeant. Leon could readily agree that the creature had to be secretly human – otherwise it would have ripped all of them apart – but he wasn't so sure about who the sorcerer was. How did a seventeen-year-old kid know about the SRU's maintenance tunnels?

There had also been an almost knowing gleam in the single eye of the blond American spy and an approval when he'd asserted his team leader seniority to take command of the operation. All of the Americans had been willing to stay behind and leave the rest of the 'raid' to the SRU constables – and their magical allies. Although Leon was grateful they'd helped his fellow constables, there was something satisfying and settling about having the operation back in exclusively SRU hands.

Ahead of him, the gryphon paused, turning to gaze past Leon at the other sorcerer – Team Three's sorcerer. The dark-haired man moved forward, scooting around Leon, and pulled out his wand, waving it at the wall next to the gryphon. The once-Knight and now-constable sucked in a breath of surprise when the bricks faded, allowing the officers to see right through the wall to the other side. Leon stiffened, both at the magic use and at the sight of his teammates, all of them with blank, glazed eyes and guns raised as they stared up towards the atrium. Reaching out, Leon felt brick under his hand; the wall wasn't gone, just…invisible.

"Pretty cool, huh?"

Blue eyes flicked over to narrowly regard Scarlatti; the bomb tech's grin was a touch forced, but genuine nonetheless. Part of Leon agreed with the other man's assessment, the part of him that only remembered being born in Toronto, growing up reading ancient myths and legends, and watching movies of every imaginable genre. That part of him felt nothing but awe at this proof that magic was not only real, but practical.

The rest of Leon remembered being born in a Camelot that regarded magic as the darkest of evils. Remembered evil sorcerers cursing the land, murdering countless innocents, and summoning creatures to kill thousands more. He itched to pull his gun and empty it into the gryphon and the sorcerer, thus ending a threat far greater than Team One was willing to acknowledge.

And yet…his hand never even twitched towards the weapon. Because he remembered hazel eyes meeting his, pleading for understanding, pleading to be judged on their merits, not Morgana's. He remembered a hydra and the sweep of magic heralding his exit from Camelot to Toronto. The guardsman whose life he'd saved – Scarlatti – and the shock of Merlin appearing in that strange world of the future. The even greater shock of discovering his King's best friend…was a sorcerer. Had been from the beginning – always fighting for Camelot and her people, against his own kind. He remembered the look in Merlin's eyes when he'd said the word 'hydra', the horror as Merlin realized that to save the future, he would have to murder his own friends. Leon even remembered the disorienting rush of the sorceress's magic, pulling them back and sending them to their deaths.

Only for their future selves to remember, to wake with memories of swords and knights and sorcerers. Future selves who served right alongside Team One, oblivious until that day to their magical secrets. He and Percival had agreed to keep quiet and stay away from Team One's naïve trust in magic and sorcerers. They'd also agreed to keep their ancient memories to themselves, though both men kept a close eye on Mordred, wary of his magic and fearful of the day he remembered the past.

Leon considered an instant longer, then pulled his hand back from the invisible wall and turned his attention to the gryphon sorcerer. Very well; he would give the sorcerer a fair chance. He would let the man stand on his own merits and judge him by his actions, not his magic. By that measure, the constable knew he already had to concede that the gryphon had willingly jumped into a burning building to save two lives. More than that, he had to concede that both the gryphon and Team Three's sorcerer were working to defeat the evil sorcerers and save an entire building of non-magical police officers from a mind-control spell. If he had to trust magic, then Leon knew which side he would take, every time.


Greg examined Team Four, evaluating their positions with exquisite care. Too close; one of them could be taken down with a sleeper hold, but the others would know, instantly. On the plus side, they were down two and, with any luck, seeing him would jar Lancelot's magic into reacting, thus breaking the curse on him. That left only four to deal with and the quarters were too close for guns to be effective.

Inwardly, the Sergeant frowned, frantically trying to figure out why he was so uneasy. He was missing something, something critical… Hazel eagle eyes made their best attempt to widen and Greg whipped around to Spike. The bomb tech fumbled his phone out again, obeying the silent order. The map of the barn appeared, glowing in the dim corridor. Alarm shot through the group – Team Two was right around the corner!

"Dang," Wordy breathed, eyes wide. "We're gonna have to hit them both at once."

Leon nodded gravely. "If we don't, the other team will hear the scuffle."

Which would put the guns back in play and risk lives. Definitely not something any of them were prepared to permit. Worse, Team Two was at full strength. Shock and awe wouldn't be enough, no, that fight would need magic. Greg considered their options, weighing the possible attack vectors and wishing for Eddie's tactical genius, but even someone less attuned to tactics could see their best course forward.

A low rumble brought him to the center of attention. He paced to them, curling around Team One and Revan, then turned and loped down the corridor to the next hidden door. The door was conveniently located past Team Two's location, allowing for an attack from behind. Greg was aware the whole group was following him and when he halted, Revan cast another detection spell.

Leon surveyed the opposite side of the wall and nodded slowly. Glancing down, he asked, "You want Team One and Revan to take Team Two?"

A sharp, agreeing nod.

The team leader frowned. "And you're going to help me and Percy stop our team?"

Greg trilled, soft, but firm. Risky, but doable, he was sure of it. So long as they trusted him, it would work.

For several seconds, Leon hesitated, blue flicking back and forth as he thought. Then he tipped his chin in acceptance. "Let's do it." Turning, he met Wordy's gray. "When we make our move, jump 'em."

"Copy."

Adrenaline flowed as Greg moved with Leon and Percival. The constables traded looks and gestures, planning without words. The team leader eased the maintenance door open, all of them tense and alert for the merest, tiniest squeak that might give their position away. Percival crept forward and, in a single, smooth motion, wrapped his arm around his Sergeant's neck, cutting off the blood flow in less than a second. Team Four jerked, turning to face their attackers even as Leon moved to launch his own attack.

And Greg screech-roared, pouring every ounce of his magic and status as a lethal predator into the sound. He felt the humans stagger as instinctive fear and terror seized them despite the curse. Lancelot's eyes fixed on him and widened an instant before they glowed, lit from the depths by his forest brown Wild Magic. The magic seemed to hiss as it took offense to the mind-control curse, breaking it as easily and swiftly as if it were naught but spun glass. In a blink, he whirled, elbow slamming into his teammate's gut. The other man let out a whoof-ing noise as he folded over, disabled even before Lancelot laid him out with an uppercut.

Greg lunged, snarl-hissing as he bowled over another man with magic liming his skin, glowing to the gryphon's vision. It was the deep green of old forest growth, tainted with pits of sorrow and loss, and seared all the way through with an obsessive hatred. The darkness was ancient and counter-acted by a burgeoning sense of redemption and hope, but it had left the man ripe for the mind-control curse. But magic or no magic, the officer went down hard as the weight and speed of a full grown gryphon struck him in the chest.

Around him, Percival finished the takedown his sleeper hold had begun and Leon took out the final member of Team Four, his uppercut just as effective as Lancelot's for ending the fight. Greg maintained his position even as several thumps from around the corner informed him that Revan and Team One had rather decisively dealt with Team Two. With any luck, they wouldn't remember much of what had occurred. Greg had been displeased, to put it mildly, when Holleran had told him about Roenick endangering Team One to ensure his own team got credit for all the arrests during a joint op.

Gryphon ears flattened in dismay. They'd successfully taken down all the non-magical occupants of the barn, but the rest were going to be far more difficult. Especially since they really only had Revan. He himself was a Squib-born and Lancelot had no magical training to speak of. Even if he used his magic, he'd be operating on instinct alone.

Naturally, that was when Greg heard the whump, whump, whump of an approaching helicopter. His head came up, staring at the ceiling in confusion and fresh dismay. What was she doing here? Then Magic Itself seemed to roar and a wave of pure power slammed through the barn, Light and Shadow flowing as one, with one goal and one purpose. The gryphon had just enough time to stiffen before the tidal wave of magic struck, sending him flying down the corridor.


As soon as the world stopped spinning, Wordy scrambled to his feet, adrenaline and magic flowing through his system, overriding exhaustion and pain. Power buzzed around him, granting him fresh strength and speed. Illishar raced past and he followed, aware of his teammates and fellow officers on his heels, but focused on that bounding figure. Something had happened, something powerful and momentous that had turned the tide, leaving the day all but won if they could only reach out and seize that victory.

They ran into the Auror area of the barn without impediment, all of the wizards shaking their heads and looking rather dazed as they shook off the last of the Imperius. Ahead of them, Illishar kept the lead, running as though someone's life depended on it. For all Wordy knew, someone's life did depend on them.

"You dare?" someone shouted. "How dare you interfere with our plan!"

"And how dare you Imperius my father!" a younger voice shouted back.

The runners hit the corner, the magic still buzzing in Wordy's blood somehow allowing him to catch up with the racing gryphon. Ahead of them, two wizards were yelling at each other, one in Neo Death Eater regalia and the other in shabby prison robes with a ghostly wolf next to him. Wordy felt a jolt of shock and horror. The wizard in prison robes was Dustil Onasi – which meant Giles had been Imperiused.

"Moffet was your father, boy!"

"No!" Dustil snarled, catching everyone within earshot off guard as his fists clenched. "My father spent years searching for me after Mom died. He never stopped looking for me, never stopped loving me. Even after I spat in his face, he never gave up! And you turned him into a mindless slave!"

The Lady growled from her spot next to Dustil, looking just as outraged as he. The Obscurus' indignation was plain, despite the fact that it had been her magic that had destroyed the Imperius.

Close to the two furious wizards, Wordy spotted a dazed, confused Giles Onasi. The Auror had clearly gotten a stronger dose of the curse than most of his colleagues; he was clutching his head and partially bent over, seemingly oblivious to his son's furious rant on his behalf. And yet, Dustil's yells were breaking through the fog, the father's instincts overriding his hurts in his need to come to his son's aid.

"Enough of this!" the Neo Death Eater roared, bringing his wand up. "Avada Kedavra!"

Death leapt from the wand in a crackling acid green jet of light aimed squarely at Dustil Onasi. Giles spun, leaping for his son in a desperate attempt to push him out of the way, raw determination blazing on the Auror's face. Wordy heard himself yell objection and Illishar ran all the harder for the Neo Death Eater, sacrificing breath for raw speed.

Time slowed, each instant lasting a thousand years and each image imprinting itself indelibly on Wordy's memory.

Giles slamming into Dustil and sending the young man sprawling, the relief on his face…indescribable.

Illishar leaping, talons and claws fully extended as he soared towards the Neo Death Eater.

And the Reaper striking, sending his victim flying backwards through the air only to crash onto the barn's unforgiving tile.