Chapter Eleven: Mungo's Bound
Jules moved first, jaguar strength and agility allowing her to bound forward, reaching Spike before Lou could. One hand touched his neck, seeking out the reassuring throb of his pulse; tension wrenched her soul until she saw her friend's chest rise and fall, breathing slow, but deep as slumber held him tight. With exquisite care and wary of the horrific injuries he surely must have, Callaghan rolled Spike from his stomach onto his side, then onto his back. The movement stirred the ash around them; he coughed, expression twisting though he remained asleep.
"Is he…?"
"He's alive," Jules murmured, half-turning to regard their teammates. Sam was still by Sarge, helping the stocky man lever himself up off the ground. Ed was down by Spyro, already cutting off the collar and chain Morgana had put on their dragon hatchling. Wordy…Wordy was keeping Lou back, doing his level best to hide the anguish in his eyes.
"Burned?" Lou choked out.
The brunette shook her head, though she had to run her hands over his chest and arms to be sure. "No, not at all."
"Wait, what?" Sam blurted. "How's that possible?"
"Agreed," Lord Potter interjected, frowning as he strode through soot and ash to Jules' side. The green-eyed wizard inspected Spike's body, frown deepening. "If he wasn't in the fire, why only boxers?"
Her face turned so red it burned and she could feel the flush creeping down her neck. Wide light-brown eyes flew to Sam; he stared right back and then… Snickered? Next to him, Sarge's hazel acquired a merry twinkle, right in time with Sam's first bark of laughter.
The ground was gray with ash, the trees scorched black where they still stood, and the acrid stench of burnt flesh still hung heavy in the air. But as Jules gazed up at him, a nearly naked Spike in her lap and face bright-red in embarrassed dismay, he couldn't help himself. Sam laughed, leaning into Sarge; the older man leaned right back, doing his best to keep them both upright as the blond sniper chortled.
He could feel the wizards staring at him, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. Spike and Spyro – they were alive, they'd survived and now their world was right again.
Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he levitated Scarlatti's unconscious form up off the bright-red Constable Callaghan. Laughter was hardly an appropriate response, particularly in light of the trauma Scarlatti had no doubt endured…
The raven paused suddenly, staring down at the limp constable. What if…what if, days or weeks or months after Sirius had fallen through the Veil Between Life and Death, he'd been found alive in the Department of Mysteries. What if Harry himself had been there at the same time – how would he have reacted in the face of his godfather's sudden return from the dead?
Laughter? Probably not…and yet… Harry swallowed, realizing he had no right to judge the Muggles – no, techies, they preferred that, didn't they? Anyway… Who was he to judge their coping methods? Better to laugh than to brood for hours on end, as he himself was prone to do. Glancing towards his brother-in-law, he shook his head and subtly pointed the dragon keeper back towards the Welsh Green; there was no way the Toronto natives would permit Charlie near little Spyro. Not after the redhead had foolishly shown more sympathy for a rampaging dragon than her victims. That was a misstep Harry would've expected from Hagrid; much as he loved the half-giant, animals had been the big man's best and only friends for decades.
Reminded of the Welsh Green, the British wizard trailed his eyes over the wounded dragon, inwardly marveling at the shimmering chains that now bound it, head to foot. That witch hadn't even needed her wand to conjure them and her transportation method… Harry had no idea how it compared to Apparition, but he couldn't deny there was something inherently cool about disappearing in a whirlwind. Even if she was a known criminal.
"Here, I got 'im."
Harry looked up from his musing to see that Wordsworth was suiting action to words, reaching under Scarlatti's floating body and hefting him up out of the levitation spell's effect. The wizard nodded, seeing what the big man intended and took a step back, conjuring a stretcher they could use to carry both constable and infant dragon out of the park. Catching the stretcher in a new levitation spell, Potter held it steady as Wordsworth gently let his unconscious teammate down. One hand moved over Scarlatti's forehead, ruffling raven locks for an instant. Then he stepped aside so Sergeant Lane could add the purple dragon hatchling to the load.
With both passengers loaded, Callaghan grabbed one of the rear stretcher poles and Lane grabbed the other one while Wordsworth hefted both front poles by himself. Swallowing down a question, Harry let his levitation spell dissipate again and conjured a soft gray blanket. It took a bit of work to disguise Spyro's wings and horns as mere 'folds' in the blanket – and Harry had to Enlarge the blanket to make sure Scarlatti's whole body was covered – but the wizard finally stepped back, satisfied with his work.
"We ready?" Sergeant Lane asked, craning around to survey his other teammates with a critical eye.
"Wait." Charlie fidgeted under the glares, but persisted. "We have to keep Muggles away from here."
"Covered." All eyes shifted to Lieutenant Parker, though Harry worked to keep his brows down at that single, halting word. Braddock was under one shoulder, expression tight and tense once more; Parker lifted his free hand, displaying the phone in it.
"Holleran's sending Team Three our way," Braddock explained, narrowing his blue eyes at Harry in silent warning. "They'll coordinate with the unis to keep everyone away till the Auror Division can clean up the scene." The blond's gaze flicked to the stretcher. "Ambulance is on its way; they'll meet us at the parking lot since the scene's too dangerous."
It wasn't, not anymore, but Harry understood. The scene had to be dangerous if they were to justify moving an injured victim without trained medical personnel present. Still… "What about Spyro?" the wizard inquired, following along as the officers began carrying the stretcher out of the ash-choked clearing. Charlie remained behind; the two men traded glances before Harry nodded acceptance of his brother-in-law's decision to stay with the Welsh Green.
Parker's jaw tightened and he traded a glance with Braddock before the latter answered. "Lou'll get him off the stretcher before the paramedics take over; we'll tell 'em that was Spike's dog and we kept them together to make the trip back easier."
If not for the ash coating all of them, Harry would've protested, but in his experience, once a disaster was horrifying enough, details were easy to slip under the radar. Even if that detail was a living, breathing purple dragon hatchling.
By the time they reached the parking lot, Lou had switched places with Sam as Sarge's support. Much as he wanted to be the one to keep track of Spyro, he couldn't. Not if they were going to get Spike straight to St. Mungo's. With his best friend unconscious, he needed to be the one who spoke to the paramedics as Spike's medical proxy.
So while Sam discreetly pulled their dragon out from under the gray blanket and headed for one of the trucks, Lou kept his eyes forward and supported Sarge as they both walked alongside the stretcher. Two men in paramedic uniforms hurried to meet them, towing a rolling stretcher piled high with medical equipment; Wordy halted, letting Lou and Sarge get a bit ahead.
Straightening his back, Lou met the lead paramedic's gaze. "He goes to St. Mungo's."
"St. Joseph's is closer," the blond man protested. "Their burn unit's the best in the city."
One hand pulled out his ID and Lou flipped it open, almost shoving it in the paramedic's face. Jerking his head towards the stretcher, he growled, "Constable Michelangelo Scarlatti. I'm Constable Lewis Young, his medical proxy, and I say St. Mungo's. Got that?"
"And if you don't, I'm sure your superior will enjoy my commander's phone call. And the mayor's phone call afterwards," Sarge put in, brandishing his cell in unspoken threat as he spoke for the first time since the dragon attack.
"Who the heck are you?" the other paramedic demanded, angered by the officers' bullying.
"Lieutenant Greg Parker, SRU." Sarge drew himself up, pulling away from Lou's support, a dangerous gleam in hazel eyes. Adopting an aloof, expectant stance, he stared down his nose at both paramedics, predatory aura flaring in the background.
Despite not possessing so much as an ounce of magic between them, the two paramedics folded in seconds under the gryphon Animagus' glare. Meekly, they transferred Spike from the conjured stretcher to their rolling one and uttered not a peep of protest when Lou swung up into the ambulance with them for the trip to St. Mungo's.
As soon as they reached St. Mungo's, Spike was whisked away from the paramedics and the paramedics themselves Obliviated before Lou could intervene. He swallowed hard as they left, wooden and blank-eyed; guilt churned in his stomach, compounding his worry for Spike. The less-lethal specialist found his way to the waiting room and sank down in one of the chairs, head falling into his hands.
Inside, the 'team sense' was silent, still there, but…scorched. Burned just like his best friend; his memory conjured up those last few instants of absolute agony before Sarge cut it off. His whole body shivered, gorge rising for an instant before he forced the nausea back in check. He couldn't even imagine what Spike must've gone through as fire engulfed him, turning his world to ash in a split-second. Much as he hated Morgana le Fay, the strength required to heal his best friend, to return him without so much as a scratch… Whatever her reasons for doing that… They owed her, he owed her.
What were they going to tell Winnie? Even though the dispatcher had turned Spike down, Lou wasn't blind. Spike still couldn't help himself; every time he walked past, he had to stop and make her laugh. And she… Whenever Spike wasn't looking, she watched him, a fond, almost wistful gleam in her eyes. For now, she was still holding to her rule of not dating fellow cops, but Lou and Wordy were quietly taking bets from the other teams about just how long that rule would last.
Thinking of Winnie inevitably brought Lisa to mind and Lou cringed. He still loved her, probably always would, but their values… Once he'd finally worked up the nerve to have a long discussion with her about why he'd reacted so violently to the idea of love potions being romantic, it had all been downhill from there.
"I don't understand what all the fuss is about," Lisa said, a hint of superiority creeping in as she regarded her boyfriend. "Didn't you tell me your boss is gifted in Occlumency?"
He stared at her, bewildered. "Occlumency?"
Lisa blinked, then explained, "Lou, anyone who can fight off mind magic has to be an Occlumens. They say Harry Potter can fight off the Imperius without Occlumency, but he's Harry Potter!"
The constable suppressed a roll of the eyes at her star-struck tone and focused back on their discussion. "Look, if you're tryin' to say it's no big deal 'cause Sarge could just throw it off, that…" He shook his head. "Lis, how'd you feel if someone used a love potion on you?"
She didn't reply, but the way her expression stilled was an answer all on its own.
Lou waited a minute, hoping she would say something, and sighed heavily when she averted her gaze instead. Rubbing his face, he closed his eyes briefly, then gave her a solemn look. "Lisa, from where I'm sitting, a love potion's just as bad as the Imperius Curse."
"Lou!"
"No, it is," he insisted. "You're taking somebody else's free will away from them. Makin' them obsess over you as long as the potion lasts. Maybe…maybe even doing more than just obsession." His hands were trembling as he remembered intense desire pouring through him, pushing aside his true self. Pushing Lisa out of his heart as if she didn't matter at all anymore, even though she was everything to him.
Lisa's face darkened. "What do you know," she spat. "You're just a Muggle."
Wait, what? Jerked out of his memories, Lou stared at Lisa, wide-eyed. Where had that come from? Too startled to be angry, he asked, "Lis?" Bewilderment and hurt rang, right along with a little boy plea of, 'What did I do wrong?'
She whirled away from him, huddling up on his couch. He heard a soft, choked off sob and suddenly understood.
Rising, he moved to her, gently tugging her back around. Reaching out, he wiped a tear off her cheek. "Lis, if you did that in school, it's okay. We all do stupid stuff when we're kids and it's not like the wizarding world bans 'em."
Lisa shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks even harder in the face of his ready forgiveness. "No, you don't understand," she whispered.
Crouching down, he met her gaze. "Talk to me, girl. Help me understand."
Her fingers twined with his and she bit her lip, struggling for the best words. "My family, Lou, we uphold the Old Ways."
"The Old Religion?"
"No! The Old Religion is forbidden; we are not Wild Mages."
It took an iron effort to hold back his flinch – didn't she remember that Sarge's nipotes were both Wild Mages? Didn't she remember that Alanna had saved her little brother's life? His jaw tightened and he nodded for her to go on.
Lisa's free hand played with the fabric of her skirt and it took another few seconds for her to continue. "My aunt leads a coven dedicated to Áine, Goddess of love, beauty, the Sun, and the Moon."
"Are you part of that coven?" Lou pressed, mentally begging for her to say 'no'. Surely not, not his Lisa – he knew how afraid she was of her father.
To his utter horror, she nodded. "A few months now. I was picking up some potion ingredients and we ran into each other." Her head ducked. "She grew up with Father; she knows what he's like, so she promised to keep quiet."
"She invited you to join her coven?" Lou pressed, wary as he ventured into dangerous emotional territory for his girlfriend.
Lisa frowned at his wary tone and closed expression. "She did. Ma…" Her voice trailed off and she blinked back tears. "She never invited Ma to join the coven."
"Because she was tech-born?"
"No! How could you think that?" Lisa demanded, sharp and defensive. "Aunt Delia isn't like that!"
He spread his hands in apology, though truly, he suspected Lisa was just fooling herself. "So what do you do in this coven, Lis?"
"We bring honor and glory to the Goddess, of course," Lisa replied, tossing her head. "Fertility rituals for couples, rites for prosperity, and ceremonies to celebrate the equinoxes. Our most frequent duty is to craft potions in service of the Goddess, for those She deems worthy."
"Love potions," he filled in numbly.
"Of course," Lisa agreed. "What sort of Goddess would She be without love?"
It had hurt so much to break up with her. To stand his ground and take back the key to his apartment in the face of Lisa's heartbroken wails. Even that hadn't been the hardest part. Once she was gone, he'd forced himself to pick up the phone and call Neal, asking the Junior Auror to come over and inspect his whole apartment for love potions. Neal hadn't found any and he'd promised to keep quiet about the whole mess, but that he'd even had to check…
Fresh tears slipped down his face as he mourned his best friend and his girlfriend alike.
A hand touched his shoulder and he jerked, twisting around to gaze up at Jules' soot-stained face. "Any word yet?"
Lou shook his head. "Not since we got here." Dark eyes shifted to their boss and he couldn't keep back his grimace. "They Obliviated those paramedics, Sarge."
The stocky man sagged at the news, but nodded reluctantly. "We had a dragon attack in the middle of Toronto, Lou. Commander Locksley has every active Auror out there, Obliviating every witness they can find." Hazel swept over their entire team, grief and exhaustion that mirrored their own etched in his face. "Let's see if we can sweet talk the Welcome Witch into letting us use the employee showers before Queenscove gets done with Spike."
A shower… The chance to get all the ash and soot and whatever else from that godforsaken clearing off. He stood up, so quickly Jules jumped, skin crawling as his brain chose that moment to make a truly morbid observation, one he did his best to squelch before it could fully form. "Copy that, Sarge."
The Welcome Witch took one look at the team's ragged, sooty appearance and offered to let them use the showers before Sarge could even open his mouth. Lou pointed her back to the waiting area, admitting that he'd sat down in one of the plush chairs; she grimaced, but informed them that the waiting area was cleaned daily since the hospital Floo was in the same room.
Once in the shower area, Jules ducked into the women's area while the rest of the team inspected the men's area; there was one large room with shower heads scattered on all four walls. Thick plastic curtains were strung from the ceiling, offering a semblance of privacy and delineating three smaller stalls for individual employees to use. Although the men were used to the lack of privacy in workplace showers, they hesitated. None of them wanted to shower all the grim off and then immediately put their filthy clothing back on, but going back to SRU headquarters for their spare clothing wasn't an option. Not until they knew Spike would be okay.
Then Sarge quirked a tiny grin and stepped inside the shower area, crouching down as he called, "Mindy."
The house-elf appeared with a pop, long bat-like ears perking up. "Master be calling Mindy?"
"Yeah," Sarge breathed out. "Mindy, can you take me and my teammates' clothing and wash it as fast as possible?" He tugged on his uniform and some of the soot flew off; Mindy squeaked in dismay. Releasing the cloth, he gestured at the shower area. "We need to shower this off, but…"
"Mindy is understanding, Master," the house-elf broke in, firm even as she wrung her hands. Her ears twitched in shame for interrupting the lieutenant.
"Great. Jules' clothing needs to be washed, too, and…" The stocky man trailed off, then he closed his eyes and admitted, "And Spike's clothes burned in the dragonfire."
Mindy gasped, ears flicking up and back as long fingers covered her mouth. "Master's Spike is being alive?"
"Somehow," Sarge confirmed with a limp smile. "The Healers are workin' on him now."
Mindy's ears twitched back and forth for a few seconds, then she nodded. "Master's friends are being strong, like Master," she said firmly. "Mindy is taking Master's and Master's friends' clothes and washing them."
"Wait." All eyes shifted to Sam, but he focused on Mindy. "If we give you our clothes, are we gonna, um…"
The house-elf shook her head. "Mindy is not belonging to Master. Only Master and Mistress is being able to free Mindy." She hesitated, then added, "House-elves is always doing laundry, Master's Sam. Wes elves is not being freed unless Master is wanting it."
Blond brows shot up. "Wait, what about that house-elf during the War? Dobby?"
Mindy squeaked and pulled her ears down as if to avoid hearing the name. "Dobby is being very bad elf," she insisted. "Dobby is tricking the Very Great Harry Potter into making Dobby's Master very angry and Dobby's Master is throwing old sock at Dobby."
"He's must've really wanted to be free," Lou murmured.
The house-elf squeaked angrily, but looked down at the tiled floor and nodded unhappily. "Dobby's Master is being very, very bad wizard. Dobby is making up for tricking the Very Great Harry Potter and is saving the Very Great Harry Potter's life."
"He sure did," Sam agreed. "I heard the elf died saving Potter and his friends from Death Eaters during the War."
Mindy squeaked a third time, now sounding rather sorrowful. Then she looked up at Sarge. "Mindy is taking Master and Master's friends' clothing now?"
"Yeah, just give us a couple minutes to get out of 'em," Sarge replied, pushing himself back up. Pointing outside, he tacked on, "I'll hand 'em to you through the door, copy?"
Lou swore he saw the house-elf roll her eyes. "Mindy copies, Master," she said, right before she popped away.
Mindy was as good as her word; by the time the men were done showering, she'd returned with their clothing, boots, and weapons better than they'd been before – Lou's shirt looked newer and crisper than it had that morning when he'd first put it on and every trace of soot and street dirt had been meticulously picked out of his boot treads. Their guns gleamed with a hint of fresh oil and the constable had little doubt the house-elf had been studying up on gun cleaning in her spare time.
There was even an extra set of clothing for Spike; Sam picked it up before Lou could and the flash of anguish in blue eyes kept Young silent. The less lethal specialist was Spike's best friend, but that didn't give him an exclusive right to grief. He clasped the blond's shoulder and headed back towards the Welcome Witch's desk.
Jules fell in next to him, adjusting her necklace. "Whose idea was Mindy?"
"Sarge, who else?"
Light brown danced with a hint of laughter before sobering. "How you holdin' up?"
He swallowed hard. "He's alive." And so long as he focused on that, he didn't have to think about the rest.
Ahead of them, the Welcome Witch looked up from her magazine; a flash of something darted across her face before she tilted her head. Lou followed that tilt to see Healer Susan Travis waiting for them. The witch's expression was closed. Guarded. Not what he'd been hoping to see.
As the group headed towards her, she turned and headed up the stairs behind her; Team One fell in behind and Lou caught a glimpse of Sam hugging the extra set of clothing to his chest. Jealousy sparked and he fought to swallow it down. Spike was alive, he was going to be fine, and everything was going to be okay. It had to be.
It just had to be.
Author note: As ever, I hope everyone enjoyed today's chapter. = )
I want to alert all of my readers to a possible change in my posting schedule. While I do not have any immediate plans to change my posting schedule, there is a possibility that I will need to change my posting schedule based on how much time I need to spend editing Small Beginnings. If there is a change, I will try to announce it roughly a story in advance. But just so all of you know, it will be a shift from a weekly posting schedule to a bi-weekly posting schedule.
Additionally, although I have Halloween and Christmas stories for this year, I cannot promise any for next year. It is all going to depend on how much time I can spare from Small Beginnings.
I do have high hopes that I can keep up with writing my fanfiction stories along with the editing, but if I have to choose between editing Small Beginnings and writing new It's a Magical Flashpoint stories, well... Small Beginnings will, by necessity, win out. Especially since I am actively investing time and money in story coaching for Small Beginnings.
