Finally, after what felt like forever and still not long enough (it would never be long enough), Donald pulled away, holding Louie at arm's length to give him a good look.

"I didn't think we'd ever see you again," he said, wiping tears from his eyes.

Huey and Dewey nearly bowled Louie over with hugs of their own.

"I knew it! I knew you weren't dead!" Dewey said. "See, Uncle Donald? I told you he wasn't dead!"

"Shut up!" Huey hushed him.

"What? I can say it now! I was actually right!"

Huey reached over and pinched his brother's beak shut. Dewey smacked his hand away.

"You'll have to tell us all about where you were all this time!" Huey said, turning his attention to Louie.

"Well, uh." Louie laughed nervously. "It's a…long story."

"What's Scotland like these days?" Huey asked. "Is Castle McDuck still there?"

"Is the old Money Bin really empty?" Dewey asked. "I can't imagine it empty."

Huey elbowed him. "We saw the Bin after he took all the money out," he said.

"Hey! Do you—" Dewey dissolved into laughter. "Do you remember when we used to go out kayaking and we'd put Captain Lost over here in charge of the map and he'd get us lost?"

The memory sprung into Louie's mind, suddenly clear as day. Sending them around in circles until they were hopelessly lost. Misreading the map so badly that Huey couldn't figure out where they were even with the help of his precious Junior Woodchuck Guidebook. Getting so turned around that Louie could hardly tell up from down, let alone north from south.

"I really am Captain Lost," Louie said, almost in a daze, overwhelmed by all these new memories and emotions and the sudden shared experiences he had between himself and his brothers.

His brothers.

"Captain Lost! Captain Lost!" Dewey chanted. Then he sighed happily. "I've been wanting to make that joke for years."

The sky began to grow dim, as if a cloud were passing in front of the sun. Fog suddenly began to pour out of the staff in Louie's hand. Startled, he dropped it, sending it clattering to the ground.

"What—what's going on?" he asked.

"What's it doing?" Dewey asked.

The fog rose and took the shape of a familiar form.

"L-Lena?" Louie said.

But the figure gave what Louie could only describe as an evil grin. She opened her eyes to reveal pure black. Not just her pupils or even her irises, but the entirety of her eyes were black as night.

The triplets backed away, quickly joined by Donald and Gladstone.

"Aw, aren't you happy to see me?" the figure said. It…almost sounded like Lena, but there was something in her voice, something different…something…

Not-Lena picked up the staff and spun it in her hand. "Just like old times," she said. She pointed the staff and shot a a beam of energy right into Donald's chest.

"Uncle Donald!" Huey and Dewey screamed as he fell to the ground.

Gladstone looked frozen, eyes darting back and forth between Donald and Not-Lena.

Donald slowly rose to his knees, then to his feet, wordlessly declining his nephews' outstretched hands. He balled his fists in a fighting stance and ran towards Not-Lena.

"No!" Louie yelped. "Don't hurt her!"

Donald turned around, his face full of rage, but after a moment, Louie realized that there was a question in there, too.

"That's Lena!" he said. "She's—she's my friend! Our friend!" He gestured to Gladstone.

"She's not anymore, kid," Gladstone said, resting a hand on Louie's shoulder.

Louie shrugged Gladstone's hand away. "What do you mean, she's not?" he demanded. "She might—something might be wrong with her now, but that's still Lena!"

Behind them, on the pier, Not-Lena had begun chasing Donald, Huey, and Dewey, shooting at them with blasts of magic. Above them, the sky grew even dimmer, but Louie didn't notice.

"It doesn't matter," Gladstone said, shaking his head. "And it won't matter very much if…if Magica destroys her body."

"If Magica…" Louie trailed off, looking towards where Donald had dumped Magica's unconscious body near the pier ladder.

It was gone.

Before Louie could process anything, a burst of magical energy hit him on the side of the face, sending him reeling backwards.

"Hey!" he shouted.

Not-Lena laughed, and now Louie could hear Magica's voice twisting with hers.

"Oh, blah, blah, blah. Have you been this insufferable this whole time? Ugh, I don't see how Lena could have stood being around you for, what was it, weeks? Days?" Not-Lena shot another beam of magic, this one sending Gladstone tumbling head-over-heels. "Then again, I'm surprised you trusted her all this time. Tell me, did you know who she was, or did you fall for whatever wretched story the little urchin fed you?" She laughed again and shot more beams of magic at all of them, landing hits on Huey's arm and Dewey's chest. "How does it feel to learn that you were 'friends' with nothing but a shadow?"

Donald rushed toward her, yelling. "Get away from my kids!" he screamed, once again becoming a blur as he fought her.

"How do we get Magica to un-possess her or whatever?" Louie asked Gladstone.

"I don't know," Gladstone said.

Louie shoved him toward where she had Donald and his brothers cornered against some barrels. "Well, do something! With your luck, whatever you do will help somehow!"

Gladstone stood nervously just a few feet away from Not-Lena. "Uh…" he said.

"Do something!" Louie yelled again.

Gladstone raised his arms. "By the the powers vested in me—"

Louie smacked his hand to his face. Anything but that.

"Ah, the luckless cousin," Not-Lena said, turning her attention to Gladstone.

"Actually, that would be Don-whoa!"

Not-Lena had somehow hooked Gladstone onto the staff through the back of his shirt…and was carrying him toward the edge of the pier.

"Put me down, put me down, put me down—" Gladstone peaked through his fingers to find that Not-Lena was holding him over the water. "Oh, come on!"

"Still want me to put you down?"

"What do you take me for, an idiot?" Gladstone paused. "Don't answer that."

"How did you survive in Edinburgh all those years?"

"I told you—hey, watch it—!"

Not-Lena had shaken the staff a couple of times, sending Gladstone sliding a few more inches towards its edge.

"Wak!" said Donald—er, Uncle Donald, Louie supposed—from next to him.

"He'll be fine, right?" Dewey said. "He's got that…luck, or whatever."

"We can't just rely on some sort of supposed supernatural luck against Magica De Spell," Huey protested.

"Let him go, Magica!" Uncle Donald said.

Not-Lena shook the staff again, sending Gladstone sliding again. She smirked. "Are you sure you want me to do that?"

"What, and dump him in the water?" Louie said. "His curls might get messed up, but he'll be fine. Go ahead."

"Hey!" Gladstone said. He slid a little further toward the edge of the staff.

Not-Lena pouted, which was such a weird thing for someone who looked like Lena to do that Louie found himself clenching his fists so tight that he left marks on his palms.

"It's no fun if none of your relatives care," she said. She shook the staff again. "That doesn't mean I'm not going to drop you in the water, though."

Gladstone slowly slid further toward the staff's edge. He started squirming, trying to inch himself back toward the other end, but it had no effect. As he slid off the end of the stone (which, as far as Louie was concerned, should have slowed him down), he grabbed it and held on as tight as he could.

Not-Lena shook the staff as if she were trying to shake a bug off. "Get off!" she said. The Magica part of her voice seemed louder now.

Gladstone held on tighter, curling his body around the stone.

And then the stone cracked.

"No! Get off!" Not-Lena shook the staff harder.

But Gladstone didn't budge.

The stone cracked again, dropping Gladstone about an inch lower.

Not-Lena wasn't looking so good.

"Get off!"

The stone cracked again. Not-Lena's arms began to shake under the exertion of holding Gladstone's weight. The cracks in the stone began to glow, and fog began to spill out.

Startled, Gladstone finally let go of the stone and plummeted into the water. Louie barely heard the splash, though, as the inky blackness of Not-Lena's eyes began to pour out of her eye sockets and pool on the ground in front of her. Not-Lena—or maybe it was just Lena now—gasped in pain and fell to her knees. Louie's stomach churned. Finally, all the shadowy horribleness seemed to finish spilling out, and Lena curled up in a ball on the ground

Louie really hoped that she still had eyes.

He didn't have time to check on her, though, for the puddle immediately began to grow and form into the shape of Magica. She grabbed the staff and staggered to her feet.

"You!" she yelled, pointing the staff at…Louie looked around, trying to figure out who she was trying to point at, but it wasn't really pointing at anyone. Magica realized that and swung her staff so that it was pointing at Louie.

"You!" she repeated. "You've ruined everything! I was so close! I should have had it all! But you ruined it!"

Magica lurched forward. But then Magica started to…dissolve, and a sudden breeze carried the dust away.

Louie could not express how happy he was that the wind was blowing away from him.

He ran to Lena, barely noticing that Uncle Donald had run to the edge of the pier where Gladstone had fallen in.

"Lena?" Louie asked. "Lena, can you hear me?" He cautiously put his hand on her shoulder.

Lena shuddered.

Louie felt a presence next to him. Actually, he felt two presences next to him.

"Is she…dead?" Dewey asked.

"Dewey!" Huey admonished.

Suddenly, Louie found himself fighting back tears. She couldn't be dead. She couldn't be.

"According to the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook," Huey began, taken said book out of his hat, "we should start by making sure that she's breathing."

"What if she's not?" Dewey said.

Louie ignored him and gently started pulling Lena onto her back.

Lena's eyes popped open, and she screamed.

Huey, Dewey, and Louie screamed in response, jumping back.

"I think she's breathing!" Huey said, catching his breath.

"No kidding!" Dewey said.

"Don't scare us like that again!" Louie said.

"Well, so-rry! It's not like I planned to get possessed by my evil aunt!" Lena shot back.

"Ooooooooooh-!" Dewey said.

Huey gave him a Look.

"What?"

"Is anything else gross going to happen to day?" Louie demanded. "Because if it does, I think I'm gonna hurl."

"How do you think I feel?" Lena asked, and Louie noticed that she was clutching her stomach.

"Are you ok?" Louie asked her.

"Yeah, I'm doing just dandy," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She accepted Louie's help as she stood up.

Over by the ladder, Uncle Donald was helping Gladstone up onto the pier.

"I can't believe she dropped me in the water," Gladstone muttered, wringing out his hair, which was no longer arranged in a beautiful curl but was instead hanging limply over his face.

"I guess your luck can't protect you from everything," Donald said, slapping Gladstone on the back. Judging by the wide-eyed look on Gladstone's face, the slap had been much harder than he'd expected.

The sky seemed to grow dimmer still. More clouds must have been rolling in, but Louie was too preoccupied to check.

"Are you sure you're ok?" Louie asked Lena. "Maybe you should sit down."

"I'm fine," Lena said, shaking Louie's hand off her arm, but she overcompensated and almost lost her balance.

"What was that all about?" Huey asked.

"Did you die?" Dewey chimed in, granting him a few more Looks. "What?"

"I did not die. I was possessed," Lena said with a grimace.

"Why don't we go inside?" suggested Uncle Donald.