Chapter Seven: Part of the Team
Wordy was extremely grateful for Giles; his fellow Auror was playing bodyguard, refusing to let any of the British lords and ladies close to his colleague and friend. Only Harry and Neville were permitted to pass the one-man barricade as Giles worked his way out of the Wizengamot chamber, Wordy in tow. Fawkes, after the capture of the Imperioused security Auror, had vanished in a ball of fire, but the other phoenix was back on Wordy's shoulder, adding her own hisses and trills to Giles' efforts.
The trouble was, just about everyone seemed to want to congratulate Wordy for stopping the Imperioused wizard almost single-handedly and ask how he'd done it without magic. As if you needed magic to tackle a mind-controlled idiot and make an arrest. Wordy wasn't sure if he should feel insulted or irritated for the implication that one needed magic to do anything worthwhile…maybe he'd just go with both. It took far more time than Wordy would have liked to work their way out of the near mob in the Wizengamot; Wordy exhaled in relief to see a clear corridor in front of them.
Neville cocked his head to the side. "Now I know why you wouldn't go without your armor," he remarked lightly. "Goblin made?"
Wordy shook his head. "Narnian made, actually," he corrected. "And yeah, I wasn't sure how today would go, but I learned a long time ago that you hope for the best, prepare for the worst." He rubbed one of the vambraces idly, tracing the engraved and embroidered running lion on it.
Giles grinned from Wordy's other side. "Team One might not have magic, Lord Longbottom, but they more than make up for it with their technology."
Neville studied the Canadian Auror for a moment. "Call me Neville, Auror Onasi," he requested. With a smile, he added, "Especially since you seem to be a friend of Wordy's."
Giles chuckled and inclined his head. "Call me Giles then. You and Lord Potter really came through in there."
Sound came from behind the four men and Harry grimaced and interrupted the conversation. "This way," he instructed, taking the lead. At Giles' quizzical look, Harry added, "They're waiting for us in my office."
They? Wordy wondered as Giles' face cleared and the man's jaw tilted up in a partial smirk. On Wordy's shoulder, the phoenix gave a little trill of satisfaction. Giles turned towards Wordy. "You still have that wand?"
Wordy glanced down, then up. "Yeah. I dropped it when you yelled, but the phoenix grabbed it before anyone could step on it." He flushed a bit as the arched brows he got. "I, uh, I tried to go for my gun."
Giles couldn't help but snicker at that. "I don't think your gun would have helped; the Imperious would have kept him from realizing you could kill him."
With a shrug, Wordy replied, "Not necessarily, Giles. If I'd had my equipment, I could have gone less-lethal."
"Less-lethal?" Neville queried.
It was Giles who answered. "Wordy means he could have switched to the gun version of a Stunner."
Wordy grinned at his fellow Auror. "And how long did it take Roy to teach you that?"
Giles flushed bright red. "Ummmm…actually, it was Ed; he tagged along on one of our busts and went less-lethal on the gang guy."
Wordy whistled. "Guess that explains why Sarge made Ed do all the paperwork for two weeks." Boy had Sarge been mad at Ed for not calling in backup…and for riding along with Roy without telling him.
A brighter red. "Ed dumped half of that on me, said I needed to learn how to do paperwork, too." At the snickers and sniggers from the other three, as well as the piping laughter from the phoenix, Giles pointedly turned away, futilely trying to pretend he couldn't hear them.
The group came out close to a cluster of office doors and Harry headed for the far door, pushing it open and leading them through a small outer office area. He stopped in front of the next door and shifted to look behind him. "Auror Wordsworth, how about you go first?"
Wordy smelled a setup, but gamely stepped forward and nudged the door open. Two steps in and he realized who was inside, who was waiting. His jaw gave way at the sight of his entire team, all of them in their armor with anxious looks that shifted to pure glee and relief as they took him in.
Ed reached him first; his normally stoic friend grabbed him a fierce hug – just like the one he'd grabbed Roy in the night the younger Lane had gone after Nick Watson. After a few seconds, the team leader let go, looking embarrassed as only a guy could, doing his best to pretend that he just had some dust in his eyes. No, he wasn't crying, why would you think that? Wordy bit back a chuckle at his friend's antics, but there was a corner of his heart that still hurt. They hadn't said anything that night, hadn't done anything as he was dragged away.
"You, you're here…how?" Wordy managed, looking around at his team. Then he noticed Alanna was missing. "Wait, where's 'Lanna?"
Lance chuckled, so innocent and gleeful that Wordy's concern melted even before the teen replied. "Oh, she's here, Uncle Wordy…or do you prefer Cousin?"
"Why mess with what works?" Wordy teased back, searching for the redhead. He hadn't missed the ever-so-slight flinch from Sarge at Lance's words, which at least partially explained why Sarge hadn't said anything that night.
The response to his question came from the phoenix as she piped a snatch of song and, when he turned, blurred and landed. Wordy's eyes widened in shock; her hair was bleached blonde.
"What did you do to your hair?" he demanded without thinking, in an utterly horrified 'why would you do that' tone.
Alanna stared at him, then started laughing hysterically. After a minute she recovered briefly, looked up at him and gasped out, "Lion's Mane, Uncle Wordy, the look on your face." She promptly collapsed into gales of laughter again.
"We dyed it so you wouldn't recognize her," Lance chirped, looking smug all over again. "Aunt Jules promised to help her get her normal color back once we had you back." As Wordy blinked at the information, the teen walked over to Neville. "Lord Longbottom," he began, pulling a pouch off his belt, "I believe these are yours."
Confused, Neville took the pouch and let the seven golden coins inside spill out. "I don't understand," he admitted, his eyes coming back up. "What's this?"
Lance didn't reply, at least not directly. Instead he crossed to Wordy and held out one hand. "May I have my wand back now, Uncle Wordy?"
Wordy felt his jaw drop again. The wand he'd used, the one that had looked familiar…he pulled it out from where he'd tucked it in his equipment belt and gave it back to its owner. "Your wand?" he asked weakly.
A nod. "Yeah. Took awhile to talk Mr. Ollivander into letting you try my wand, but it worked." A wistful smile worked its way across the young man's face. "Maybe, in another lifetime, it really could have been yours."
"Maybe so, kiddo," Wordy allowed, ruffling Lance's hair and grinning at the aborted yelp of protest. He looked around at his team, wondering why he didn't feel more relieved. They'd come after him, hadn't they? Hadn't let him down in the end, right? But he couldn't see how they'd really helped all that much; his salvation had come from two British Lords, Giles, and the two kids, not his teammates. The brunet constable forced the ungracious thoughts out of his mind and locked the fledgling resentment away; his eyes brightened and his grin grew wider, drawing enthusiasm from his teammates that all was well again in their world.
But resentment, once born, is not so easily dismissed and an idea, once thought of, is nearly impossible to kill. The team's unity, one of their greatest strengths, now possessed a hairline crack. And as Team One returned home, for now oblivious to the consequences of Wordy's trial before the Wizengamot, a figure watched from the shadows, well satisfied with the beginning he had wrought.
"So, a group of Muggles was all that was needed to ruin our plans," a man spat at his compatriots. "What do you have to say for yourselves?"
One of them cowered and replied, "They are not just any Muggles, Doctor Moffet; they are acknowledged Aurors and they have a half-blood working with them. Their lack of magic doesn't seem to be an issue; they brought down Nick Watson a few months ago and he killed five Aurors and several of their informers."
The man at the head of the table considered that, his eyes flicking from side to side as he thought. When he spoke again, his temper was once more under control. "Perhaps a test then," he proposed. "I shall use my connections in the Muggle world to our advantage and see that they are reduced in strength, if not removed from our path entirely." He frowned more deeply, returning to their main issue. "We cannot use the same gambit twice; the Canadian Auror Division and the Division of Mysteries are already equipping as many Embassies as they can with Anti-Apparition and Anti-Portkey wards. I have little doubt that the trend will spread, depriving us of our prior target."
"Another institution, Doctor?" another man ventured thoughtfully.
"Perhaps," Dr. Moffet allowed. "I shall consider the matter and inform you all once I have decided upon a new strategy." He leaned back in his chair. "For now, bring me every scrap of information you can find about this 'Team One' and their leader."
The men bowed and departed quickly; Dr. Moffet's quick temper meant he did not suffer their presence long once they were dismissed. Dr. Moffet, for his part, ignored his minions' departure; he was already considering new plans for dealing with the unexpected complications to his ultimate goal.
After some time, he rose to his feet and walked out of the room, going deeper into the complex until he reached a room that was sealed from all outside interference. Inside, he inspected his greatest creation, a smile crossing his face as he walked next to the sleek machine, running one hand along its black metal flank. An Obscurus (1), harnessed and bound to a Muggle helicopter that he himself had designed and built. And when it was time, when the magical world had been forced to its knees by the Muggle world, he would reveal his weapon and save them all with it. The arrogant wizards and witches would be forced to acknowledge him as their savior, their leader – and the Muggles? Well, it was only what they deserved for fearing and hating magic, for denying him his due.
Moffet chuckled to himself as he reached the nose of the elegant craft. "Soon, my pet, very soon," he promised aloud. "This 'Team One' may have thwarted us for now, but soon you will be free to roam and strike at those who oppressed you so."
The Obscurus growled in response, the hydraulics hissing as the magical creature within rose to the surface.
The doctor patted the machine, his touch almost affectionate. "There, there. I know you are impatient, as am I. But we must wait for the right time, my dear. I promise that it will come."
A louder growl came from the black metal and Moffet's eyes twinkled in vicious glee, his mouth twisting in dark amusement. He made sure to come and visit his creation every day, ensuring that his machine never forgot who was in charge, who was in control. He stroked the craft again, his eyes dancing as he spoke solemnly, soothing the Obscurus for the nonce. The growls faded away and the doctor nodded to himself.
Doctor Charles Henry Moffet walked away from the black and white helicopter, a smug smile on his face as he debated his next move as well as his evening entertainment. Behind him, a swirl of darkness cascaded over the helicopter's nose, followed by a wolf's livid snarl as the Obscurus fought to leave its imprisoning metal cage. The machine rocked just a touch on its three wheels, then settled, dreaming of blood-red skies and a world awash in tears and destruction…they would pay…they would all pay…
~ Fin
[1] An Obscurus is the manifestation of the repressed magical energy of a magical child. A magical child that fears and represses their own magic is called an Obscurial.
Author note: Annnnd cut! Thanks for hanging with me through this whirlwind trilogy and I hope you enjoyed reading it just as much as I enjoyed writing it. Now, usually, I'd announce the next story in the main storyline, but I suspect some (if not most) of you are feeling cheated that Team One hardly appeared at all in this story, only showing up at the very end when Wordy's acquittal was a fait accompli. Therefore we'll be kicking off a Side Story called "Wordsworth or Lestrange?", right here in the Flashpoint/Harry Potter on August 3rd, 2018 and resume our regularly scheduled mainline stories at the conclusion of the Side Story.
For anyone interested, RL has settled into a routine, so I'll probably stop regaling you with my tales of woe and frustration. I'm trying to be a productive member of the team, but some days that's easier said than done, especially when we newbies aren't given any work to do. Sadly, I don't expect that to change anytime soon, but in the meantime, I will do my best to be available and keep on studying and all that good stuff.
Thank you very much for all your prayers and reviews. Happy Reading and Keep the Peace!
