Epilogue

"Why you want me to double-check this blasted report," Roy muttered angrily to himself as he worked his way through the database and requested the forensics report again.

Helen Smith's family had folded so fast that Roy had been left snickering; once they found out she'd kidnapped an Heir to an Ancient and Noble Family, they'd literally, literally, blanched. Giles, concealing a smirk and a snicker of his own, had gleefully added that her injuries had been inflicted by said Heir in defense of the two Aurors who'd been trying to rescue him and upon whom Helen had drawn her wand – and then tried to murder, thus proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that she'd had no intention of giving her captive back.

They'd also found the pieces of Lance's broken wand and set the wheels in motion to get the death certificate revoked and the manslaughter charges dropped down to attempted manslaughter charges. Roy had been ready to call it a good day, but Giles had demanded they go on this wild goose chase first. At close to eleven at night, Roy was tired, unhappy, and not afraid to show it.

Over his shoulder, Giles was unperturbed. "Call it a hunch," he decided.

"A hunch?" Roy questioned, glancing back and up at his partner.

"All of this could have been avoided if forensics hadn't concluded Lance was dead, even though there was no body in the Impala," Giles rumbled. "We would have known he was still alive, still out there, and we might have found him before that lousy excuse for a witch tried to smuggle him back to England as her dead son."

Roy felt a chill go down his back. "Parker and Team One wouldn't have gone through hell this past week," he whispered, turning back to the search.

"Exactly," Giles snapped. "If it had come down to it, the Auror Division would have used the Lost Soul Potion and settled the matter once and for all. Instead, we ended up finding him with sheer dumb luck after everyone else said he was dead."

The Guns 'n' Gangs officer swallowed hard, then frowned at the screen that came up. "This is weird…" he muttered.

"You got it?" Giles asked, leaning over his shoulder.

"No," Roy replied, pointing to the screen. "It's asking for a password…but I already gave the system my password."

"Is there a hint?" Giles inquired, digging in his memory for how techie computers worked.

For a moment, Roy was silent, working at the keyboard. In a surprised tone, he remarked, "Yeah, there's a hint…"

He pointed to the screen again and Giles leaned in. " 'Cry havoc.' That's it?"

"That's it," Roy confirmed glumly.

"What kind of a hint is that?" Giles complained. "Can't you just override it or something?"

Roy tossed him a glare. "I'm not a computer tech, Giles. I know how to work the computer, read email, type out reports, and that's about it." His glare transferred to the computer screen. "Okay, 'cry havoc'…must refer to something."

Giles groaned, moving away and poking cautiously at a stack of paperback books on the edge of his partner's desk. "What's this?" he asked idly.

Roy looked and let out his own groan. "Birthday gift from my girlfriend," he explained glumly. "She's into Shakespeare…wants me to take her to some performance next weekend."

"You going?" Giles inquired, tilting his head to the side…he'd thought that Roy and his girlfriend were getting along quite well, but Roy's tone said otherwise.

A reluctant nod. "Yeah, I'm going, but things…they've been going downhill…"

"Why?"

"She's Wiccan."

The light dawned. "One thing when magic's not real…" Giles mused.

A rough laugh. "Something like that," Roy agreed, eyeing the books. "Wait a sec…" He pulled the stack closer, his eyes narrowing, then Giles was forced to catch a paperback as it flew at his chest.

The Auror yelped, catching the book before it could fall, then snatching another one out of midair. "Roy!" Giles protested, nabbing a third book as it whizzed past his shoulder.

"Got it!" Roy crowed, flipping through the fourth book frantically. "Where is it…where is it? I know I saw it somewhere in here…" Abruptly, the cop spun back to the computer, one hand keeping the book open as the other did a 'hunt and peck' routine on the keyboard.

Giles rounded the desk, confusion blazing. "What is it?"

Roy shifted his grip on the book to jab a finger at the page he had open. " 'Cry 'Havoc,' and let slip the dogs of war;' Shakespeare, from Julius Caesar." He scowled at the screen, which was showing a denial of what he'd just put in.

"Did you put in the whole thing?" Giles inquired. At Roy's nod, he suggested, "Try just the dogs of war part." He put the three books he'd caught down and took the open fourth book so Roy could type with both hands.

Aloud, Roy mumbled, "Okay, 'let slip the dogs of war'; Enter."

The screen changed, bringing up not the report both men had expected, but a short note, clearly written for them.

Congratulations, Aurors, the note began, drawing two raised brows and wary looks.

I could hardly begin with anything else…most of your colleagues were quite content with the report I submitted on behalf of your forensics department. That you two, and you two alone, were unsatisfied, confirms to my satisfaction that your thwarting of my plans for the full moon of last month was no fluke.

Twin growls rose, both men glaring hard at the message and realizing that the meddling had been no accident…the week of pure hell that Team One had just gone through had been intentional, malicious, and cruel.

You have my word, such as it is, that I shall not attempt to harm young Heir Calvin until such time as he regains his usual age…nor shall I make any attempts on his sister or his uncle's team of intriguing officers. Muggles, Squibs, and Squib-borns…such a delightful mix of magic and technology you have at your fingertips, my good Aurors.

Roy broke off to stand and pace, his expression twisting into helpless rage…the object of his fury far away and doubtlessly protected by magic he could never hope to penetrate. Giles looked just as angry…and helpless. "That little," Roy managed, anger strangling his words.

"I know," Giles murmured.

It cannot, of course, last…you, of all people, Auror Onasi, should remember the lessons of the past concerning the intermixing of magical and non-magical. It may not be today or tomorrow, but eventually, your friends will turn on you…jealous of your power and talents.

"We won't," Roy promised, swinging around to face Giles, his eyes glittering in the shadows around his desk and monitor.

Giles settled a hand onto his partner's shoulder. "I know, Roy. You were willing to stand by me in the middle of that…that nightmare he provoked. I'd trust you to have my back in the middle of a dementor attack."

Regardless, do accept my congratulations once again and my wishes for young Heir Calvin's speedy recovery. Until next time, I bid you Adieu and good fortune…I would hate for such a promising group of adversaries to vanish from the field at this point.

Until we meet again, I remain,

Doctor Charles Henry Moffet

"Moffet," Roy whispered.

"At this point, he's gone," Giles sighed. "He'll have gone underground almost as soon as we found Lance and dragged Smith in."

"We have to get this to my brother," Roy announced.

"Why?" Giles inquired, cocking his head to the side. "Won't that just hurt them more?"

Roy printed the note and ripped the paper off the printer. "Stop thinking like a wizard, Giles, and start thinking like a cop. Team One is trained for this kind of monster…no matter what he's done. They're the best people for this."

"For what?" Giles blinked, still confused by Roy's actions.

The Guns 'n' Gangs officer didn't reply immediately as he also saved the note to his computer and then logged out of the database. Determined gray eyes met Giles' brown ones. "For bringing Moffet down…for figuring out what makes him tick so we can take him down for good. Make sure he can't start his little tech-magic war or mess with our people ever again." Roy grabbed his jacket and pulled it on. "This might sound a bit…Sherlockish, but it works."

"What works?"

Roy smirked, adjusting his jacket and letting the moment hang. In as much of a British drawl as he could manage, he announced, "The game is on."

~ Fin


Author note: Indeed it is, Roy, indeed it is, though we'll have to wait for Moffet to slither out from under his rock again. But for now, we shall move onto "The Sergeant and the Gryphon Cub", right here in the main Flashpoint archive, on Friday, October 5th, 2018.

I hope you all enjoyed and I would be most obliged if you drop me a line or two, either by review or PM.

Happy Reading, everyone,
sunstarunicorn