Two days passed without sign of Mark, and Alastor liked to think the fellow had just gone home. Or perhaps, been taken to a mad house. Either one would be fine. Tiberius had taken the story with a fair amount of humor and curiosity, and more than once he had made some comment about the unfairness of not being asked to come along in the first place. Alastor usually took those moments to point out that Tiberius had in fact been sleeping on the job, and arguments were generally avoided. Donald wound up working with one of the older Unspeakables, Croaker or something like that, and had not had much time to work on translating Mark's book. The way Donald went on about whatever the odd project was that now occupied his attention (something about time, was really all that Alastor had managed to pick up), it was impossible to tell whether or not he was concerned at all about the book anyway. Alastor himself was quite curious, and rather wished Don would hurry up and finish the job already.

Patrol managed to keep Alastor busy enough, even if the job was woefully unexciting. Even after the relative success of his disturbance call, Hawkins had not assigned him any more remotely interesting cases. At least this time, Alastor decided, he was stuck on patrol with Tiberius. Both of them wore plain clothes, as there was no sense in wearing scarlet robes in the middle of Muggle London. In ordinary shirts and trousers, Tiberius and Alastor earned no extra attention, or at least, not much anyway. Tiberius still looked uncomfortable, though whether that was from all the Muggles or all the stares he was receiving, Alastor was unsure. Not every day did one see a fellow quite so shockingly tall as Tiberius Kirk, and even though Alastor himself was not short by any means, Tiberius still towered over him and everyone else. At present, Tiberius had attempted to hide his height a bit by leaning against a wall and slumping down. The idea was not especially effective, but they had been walking for awhile so Alastor joined him against the wall, eyes scanning over the crowd.

A woman pushed a baby carriage, shopping bags hanging from either arm. Two boys headed into a pub, wearing expressions that suggested they were sneaking about in one way or another. A cluster of schoolgirls, giggling and chattering and smiling up at Tiberius and Alastor as they passed. Nothing even remotely out of the ordinary, just people and noise and a warm summer day. Alastor was just about to suggest heading over to Piccadilly instead when a flash of movement caught his attention. There, dashing through the crowd, was a scruffy fellow in worn-looking clothes. He had vanished again as soon as Alastor stepped away from the wall, a shadow dancing down a narrow side-street, but Alastor knew what he had seen.

"You remember that fellow I said I met on my disturbance call?" Alastor asked lightly.

Tiberius tilted his head, considering the question. "Tha one with tha funny book?"

"Yeah, him. Think he just ran by," Alastor replied.

"You're seeing things," Tiberius said with a snort. "Just tryin' ta make this more interesting."

"Rather it be interesting than me be bored to tears," Alastor grumbled.

He stayed beside Tiberius, watching the side street all the while. Perhaps Mark had gone home, and was simply taking a shortcut back. Maybe the fellow just looked perpetually scruffy. Alastor neither knew nor cared, but he rather doubted anyone went sprinting through a crowded street for no reason at all. He had a rather distinct feeling that something would happen any moment. Something interesting, hopefully, and not something too entirely life-threatening. The feeling was proven correct moments later when shouts began to echo from what Alastor swore was the same street.

"You hear that?"

"Aye, suppose I did," Tiberius allowed, eyeing both the street and Alastor with some concern. "And I suppose you'll want ta go look?"

"Well. It's our responsibility, really."

"Could be nothing," Tiberius observed.

"Probably ought to at least take a look," Alastor said. "Just in case."

If Tiberius had any further argument, he kept it quiet and instead followed Alastor across the street. They slipped between two parked motors, careful to avoid a collision with a trio of children racing each other down the sidewalk. Once Alastor was quite sure no one was watching, he slipped into the side street, Tiberius close behind.

The street was really little more than an alley, shadowed by the nearby buildings and broken by dustbins and piles of boxes. The noises, definitely shouting of some sort, echoed from further on down, and Alastor picked up his pace to a jog, drawing his wand from his pocket.

"Suppose it's not nothing," Tiberius allowed.

"Thank you."

They rounded a corner to find a dead end, but someone else had already found the place first. Two more men in black cloaks had backed Mark into a corner. Mark, aside from looking considerably more ragged than the last time Alastor had seen him, had also managed to find himself a fancy-looking sword. The sword was presently being used to attempt to scare off the black-cloaked men, but said attempt did not look to be working especially well.

"Why's he got a sword?" Tiberius whispered.

"Dunno," Alastor admitted. "He didn't before."

"You sure about that?"

Alastor really felt as though now was not the time to be discussing his recall skills, and could not help but be a bit annoyed anyway by the doubt in Tiberius' tone.

"That's the sort of thing you remember. Course I'm bloody sure."

Tiberius looked to be about to say something else, an apology, hopefully, but Mark decided to take a swing at one of his attackers. The strike missed, the black-cloaked men merely backing out of the way, and one of the men raised his wand in Mark's direction. Nobody had realized that two Aurors had also entered the alley, which gave Alastor a nice advantage of surprise.

"Stupefy!"

The man with the raised wand dropped instantly, and his companion whirled to face the newcomers, looking quite shocked. Alastor advanced, intending to disarm the second man as well while Tiberius bound the first attacker with a quick Incarcerous. Mark raised his free hand though, shouting something in that odd language again and sending the man sprawling on the ground. With a speed Alastor had not expected, Mark dove on the man, sword placed against his throat.

"Oi!" Tiberius shouted. "Easy now, havenae got ta go about killing people!"

Mark ignored him, and Alastor would have sworn that Mark's hands had started to glow with a bluish tinge. Alastor took a few steps closer, intending to bend down and take a proper look, but by this point Tiberius had crossed the distance as well, having finished alerting the Aurors as to the arrest of the two men.

"Come on now mate." Tiberius reached down and tugged lightly on Mark's shoulder, trying to draw his attention. "Self- defense only goes so far and all."

Moving again with surprising speed, Mark was on his feet in an instant, and this time the point of the sword was pressed against Tiberius' chest. Tiberius froze, eyes widening as he looked from the sword to Mark and back again, thoroughly at a loss as to what to do. Auror training did not exactly cover how to handle sword-related situations, after all. Alastor, for his part, did not hesitate. Mental as Mark might have been, he was not about to skewer Tiberius. Not if Alastor could stop it. Ignoring the sudden flare of his temper, Alastor reached out with a smooth speed, bringing one arm around Mark's neck in a chokehold and pressing his wand against Mark's temple.

"I'd drop the sword if I was you, mate."

Nobody moved, nobody breathed, and for a moment everything slowed and stopped, all three of them waiting to see who would act first. Then Mark took a deep breath, slumping a bit, and the tension began to seep away. Slowly, the sword in Mark's hand lowered until the point nearly touched the ground. Once no one seemed to be in imminent danger of being run through, Alastor released his hold.

"Tiberius Kirk...?" was all Mark said, frowning up at the towering Scotsman.

"...Aye, that's me. What about it?" Tiberius asked.

"Ha!" Mark glanced at Alastor now, as though he had just reached some especially humorous realization. "I guess that makes you Spock."

Alastor shot a look at Tiberius, who shrugged. Mentally he added another tally to the list of reasons why Mark was clearly insane before replying, "Who the blazes is Spock?"

"Never mind," said Mark, still looking more or less amused.

Of course, he began to look less amused as be began to take in his surroundings, and froze entirely when he spotted the black-cloaked men.

"Same fellows that were giving you trouble last time?" Alastor guessed.

"Yeah. They grabbed me about ten minutes after I left your office," Mark replied.

"Old friends of yours?" Tiberius asked. Alastor could not tell if he was making a joke or if that had been a sincere question.

"In a way." Mark rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands, as though he had suddenly grown very, very tired. "They took my book."

"Didn't seem like all that valuable of a book," Alastor murmured.

Mark did not seem to entirely appreciate that comment, but Tiberius spoke first and spared him the inevitable irritable reply.

"That tha one Don was looking at?"

"Yeah, that's the one," Alastor said.

"A copy of it, rather," Mark corrected. He had already begun to walk away back towards the main part of the alley by the time his words had really registered. Warnings flared up immediately, and Alastor scowled at Mark's retreating back, temper stirring again.

"You've been using Legilimency on us!"

Tiberius looked faintly surprised at that, and Alastor was just shy of horrified at the possibility that someone had been looking through his private thoughts. Mark paused mid-stride, turning to glance back at him.

"Pardon?"

"Mind-reading," Alastor growled. "We didn't tell you about the copy."

"It's not exactly mind-reading," Mark insisted.

"Really?" Tiberius asked, tone matching his disbelieving expression.

Mark started to walk again, no longer facing them. He kept talking though, moving his hands as he spoke.

"It's like...like walking through an art gallery. Your lives are on display and I can choose to shield my face or I can see them."

If Alastor had been irritated before, he was now fairly unnerved as well. Tiberius cast a sidelong glance in his direction, evidently feeling much the same. Thoughts were private, in Alastor's opinion, and some memories ought not to be shared. The fact that Mark could see all that made his skin crawl. Alastor took this as a clear sign that he ought to be working on his own Occlumency skills.

"I suggest you quit looking then," Alastor said gruffly. "You and your art gallery have fun finding your book."

"I think you're going to help me," Mark replied, turning to face them once more.

"And why's that?" Alastor asked.

"Because I'm no match for wizards like them," Mark said simply. "You two are well-trained, obviously."

That had to have been one of the most shameless attempts at flattery Alastor had ever heard, nor was he about to fall for it. Still, no harm in taking the compliment.

"'Preicate that," Tiberius said.

"It'd be an adventure. Two wizards and a madman against dozens," Mark went on.

Well, at least Mark had admitted to being mad. That ought to make things easier in the future.

"See now, that's why we joined the Aurors," Alastor explained, smirking a bit. "Adventures, that's all we get."

"Besides, who said there were dozens?" Tiberius asked. "Probably just some mental book collector. Don can just make another copy for you."

The idea sounded perfectly reasonable to Alastor, but Mark seemed to disagree.

"If they translate that book..." Mark hesitated, biting his lip.

"They'll bring about the end of the world?" Alastor guessed, grin widening as Tiberius choked back a laugh.

Mark stayed quiet for a moment, as though trying to decided what to say. Finally he chose his words, taking a deep breath.

"Seventy years from now, a woman is going to be discovered as one of the last of Merlin's bloodline. And she's going to be killed."

Silence for a beat, because surely Mark had to be kidding. Then again, who made up stories like that? Alastor glanced at Tiberius, who frowned at Mark, sizing him up. Tiberius had always had a knack for reading people, and that tended to come in handy on all sorts of occasions.

"Sounds like a regular murder mystery, doesn't it?" Alastor muttered.

"Aye," Tiberius said at last, "come on, mate, Merlin dinnae have a bloodline."

"If Merlin doesn't have a bloodline, why can I use magic without a wand?" Mark asked.

Tiberius shrugged, not at all phased by the question.

"Some wizards can. Dumbledore can."

"You'd probably do better with a wand," Alastor added.

"Can Dumbledore read a person's history in a glance?" Mark pressed.

Alastor was not entirely sure about that one, but Dumbledore did always seem to know more than he ought to about all sorts of situations. Not to mention the man was a powerful wizard. Most powerful in the world, after the battle with Grindlewald.

"Maybe not a history," Alastor allowed. "But I think he's a pretty fair Legimens."

"So really, you're a powerful, untrained wizard. All we ought to do is bring you back ta tha Department," Tiberius said, summing everything up in one neat reply.

"Not to mention, why should we look for your book when Don can just make you a new one?" Alastor asked again.

"Because if those wizards find out who I am they are going to kill my parents! Assuming they don't get their hands on me first," Mark insisted.

He had begun to sound a bit frantic now, gesturing wildly and speaking of himself only as an afterthought. The fellow really was having a hard time, and Alastor was having some difficulty not feeling bad for him.

"Let's go find your parents then. Warn them. Then the three of you can hide out or something." Alastor paused, glancing over Mark and taking in his appearance. "Looks like you could use a night at home anyway."

"My mother won't even be born for twenty years or more," Mark said flatly.

"So we're back to the Time Turner business?" Alastor asked, rolling his eyes. Merlin, here he was trying to help, and all Mark could do was talk all sorts of rubbish about time travel or some other nonsense.

"If you could have saved your father from death when he was killed in the war, wouldn't you have tried?" Mark snapped.

Vaguely Alastor heard Tiberius speak, something about "not bringing that up." Mostly everything went quiet, save for the blood pounding in his ears. Alastor knew his face had gone alarmingly red, and he was sputtering in effort to manage some reply. His first instinct was to hit Mark, hard, but somehow he managed to refrain, fists clenched at his sides. Mark had no right, no right to be looking at those memories.

"I've never known my father and I'm not going to be responsible for his death," Mark said, holding his sword defensively now, expecting an attack.

Alastor scowled, drawing in a sharp, painful breath. He pointed one finger at Mark, opened and closed his mouth, words screaming through his mind but refusing to emerge. His temper was boiling, roaring, and before he could do anything too out of hand, Alastor strode past Mark and stormed away, leaving the alley behind as quickly as possible.

Mark watched Alastor's retreating back, his insides cold. The sword's tip lowered again.

"Now why would you go and do something like that?" Tiberius asked, turning back from his friend.

"To make a point." Mark ran a hand through his hair. His head still ached from the night before. "I'm going whether or not you help. Have a good time doing paperwork." Swinging his sword up to rest on his shoulder, Mark began to walk.

Tiberius followed him. "But that's not tha kindest way ta make a point." He paused, leaning forward to get a look at Mark's face. "Here's tha part where you say, 'We do it to save the wizarding world.' Cannae exactly going around arresting people for what they might do, can we?"

"I think it's safe to say that if they translate that book of spells, the wizarding world is going to drastically change. Not that I know much about the wizarding world as it is," Mark admitted, shooting a glance at Tiberius. "There are no wizards where I am from, at least I don't think so."

"You're not a wizard?"

"Not in the same way you are," Mark said.

Raising one eyebrow, Tiberius muttered, "Interesting. You ought ta talk with Donny sometime. Think he'd get on well with you." Donald, the man who had made a copy of Mark's book—Mark remembered him. "Anyway, saving the wizarding world," Tiberius went on, holding up a finger, "now it's officially something we can take interest in."

Mark stopped walking and turned to Tiberius. He smiled a little. Tiberius held out his hand, and Mark shook it. "Thanks."

"Tha pleasure is mine," Tiberius answered, a smile in his eyes.

Mark glanced back in the direction Alastor had gone. "Look, I'm sorry about... him. But I spent the night trying to escape and they gave me something..." He winced as the pain in his head flared again. "It's only begun to wear off this morning. Not much of an excuse, but it was little of me to say."

"He'll... he'll be fine." Tiberius looked back, too. Mark felt images brush against his mind—Alastor crouched on the floor, mad with grief, and the funeral on a snowy day in London. "I'll try and talk him down, and if not he'll talk to... well, he'll be fine. Probably wonnae be too cheerful around you for awhile though. Sensitive subject and all that it is."

"I understand." Mark looked at his sword. He'd found it in the place they were keeping him—wherever that had been. The memory of his captivity was fuzzy. Whatever they had given him had been enough to put him into a slight frenzy, and to interfere with his recall. The sword had always felt like a natural weapon to him, and he had taken it up. But he wasn't sure what to do with it now. He wouldn't be able to walk across London with it in the open. "I don't know the Old English word for 'sheath,'" he muttered.

Tiberius waved his wand, and the sword disappeared. "There you have it."

Mark looked around, startled. "Where did it go?"

Blinking as if he had not thought about that before, Tiberius said, "Vanished objects... they're sort of... they just... like they go to a special waiting room that we cannae see. Merlin, but Transfiguration's not my strongest subject. It'll come back when you want it."

"Ah, alright. Anyway." Brushing his hands off on his pants, Mark glanced in the direction Alastor had gone.

Tiberius checked his watch. "Patrol's ended." Turning, he shouted, "Alastor!" There was no answer. "Seems ta have left. That's probably for the best, really."

"What should I do next, about the book?" Mark asked.

"Suppose we ought to go back to where you had it last."

Mark stuck his hands in his pockets and began to walk. "Easier said than done."

"Why's that?" Tiberius asked, walking beside him.

"They gave me a sleeping drought, I think. Everything's a buzz from when they blindfolded me to an hour or two ago. I don't take well to any sort of drug or medication," Mark added.

"Could have been a Confundus Charm, too... these blokes were wizards and all. So you donnae remember where you were, or who they are?"

"If I could look at one of the men, I could find the information."

Tiberius changed direction. "Then it's back ta headquarters, if you donnae mind."

A/N - So finals are now done, updates should be quicker, all that good stuff. Not to mention, reviews are great and wonderful things, so feel free to leave a few ;D