She gave her wand a light flick.
"Obliviate."
Phil Coulson's agonized scream cut off instantly. He slumped into a deep, dreamless sleep.
...
World Security Council. Minister's Office.
Alexander Pierce sat rigid behind his desk, the projection screen filled wall to wall with a single photograph.
Hermione. Black robes. Wand raised. Surrounded by a storm of colored light, like something divine that had stepped down into the world.
Pierce's eyes were cold and ugly.
HYDRA's power could still move mountains among ordinary people and run-of-the-mill superhumans. But against something at Hermione's level, it was laughably thin.
What made him warier still was the possibility lurking behind her , an entire wizarding world, unknown and unmapped.
"Damn wizards..."
The curse came out low, barely a breath.
He needed to control her. Needed to get his hands on that power. He just had no idea how.
Then a voice spoke directly behind him.
"Alexander Pierce."
Pierce jolted out of his chair like he'd been shocked.
He spun around. A tall, sharp-featured, handsome young man stood before him, with eyes that held a depth that had no business being on someone his age. Pierce had no idea when he'd appeared.
Pierce's pupils contracted.
His office sat in the deepest chamber of the World Security Council headquarters. The security was airtight. Any disturbance , any at all , would have triggered an alarm.
This young man had materialized out of nowhere without alerting a single soul.
And behind him was a solid wall. No door. No entrance. Nothing.
Pierce couldn't work out how he'd gotten in.
"You — who are you?"
He forced his shock down and snapped the question out. His hand moved instinctively toward the pistol at his hip, his other hand drifting toward the alarm button under the desk.
The young man simply raised one hand.
"Langlock."
Something clamped shut in Pierce's throat. No sound came out. He tried to move and found he couldn't , an invisible force pinned him exactly where he stood, no matter how hard he fought against it.
In the middle of his panic, his eyes landed on what the young man was holding.
A wand.
Nearly identical to the one Hermione Granger carried.
Something clicked into place behind Pierce's eyes.
The young man raised his wand again.
"Vocalis Restitutus."
The grip on Pierce's throat released. He dragged in a breath.
"You're a wizard?" he asked carefully.
The first wizard he'd ever seen besides Hermione. Which meant the wizarding world was real , it actually existed.
The young man nodded. A slow, amused smile touched the corner of his mouth. "As expected. You already know we exist."
Pierce pressed down the excitement and the dread both, and probed, "May I ask who you —"
"Ministry of Magic. Department of Magical Law Enforcement." The young man cut him off without ceremony. "Tom Marvolo Riddle."
"I'm here to talk to you about Hermione Granger."
...
A cemetery. Gloomy, overgrown, tombstones tilting at broken angles in the weeds.
Lucius Malfoy stood alone in the center of it, waiting. A faint unease sat on his face.
Then the air behind him warped, and a figure in black robes stepped out of nothing.
"You came." Lucius turned, voice even.
The robed figure nodded. "What do you want?"
Low voice. Hoarse. Wary.
Lucius said nothing.
The robed man's brow tightened. "Why aren't you speaking?"
"I'm sorry, Lestrange." Lucius's voice came out slow and measured. "Please don't blame me."
Lestrange's heart lurched. He spun around.
A young man stood behind him, watching him with a faint, unreadable smile.
Lestrange understood immediately. Fury flashed through his eyes. "Lucius, you sold me out!"
Lestrange was a dark wizard with a Ministry warrant on his head, and Lucius had been his contact for years. He'd trusted Lucius , the man had been a Death Eater under the Dark Lord, which counted for something. They'd traded magical artifacts, and Lucius had helped him slip Ministry pursuit more than once.
He'd never imagined Lucius would turn around and set a trap with someone else.
Lestrange moved to Apparate.
Nothing happened.
He tried again. Still nothing. Every scrap of magic in his body was locked down by something vast and immovable.
This , why?!
He'd never felt anything like it. He had no answer.
"Avada Kedavra."
Green light. Clean and precise.
It hit Lestrange before he could twitch a muscle. His body locked in place, then the light went out of his eyes, and he dropped. His pupils still held the last traces of fear and fury when he hit the ground.
"Told you to move sooner." A crisp voice drifted out of the shadows, carrying a note of exasperation. "But no — you had to make a show of it."
"What if he'd actually gotten away? Our dear Mr. Malfoy would have been completely exposed. Not just losing people's trust , he'd have had every dark wizard on the continent hunting him down."
Hermione stepped out of the shadows. Moonlight caught her slight frame as she glanced down at Lestrange.
She thought, privately, that if she hadn't slapped Ancient Magic: Silence on him in time, cutting off every spell before he could cast it, he might have actually managed to run.
A flicker of embarrassment crossed the young man's face. He cleared his throat and looked briefly at Lucius, smoothing over the moment.
"I'll be more careful next time."
He was the Dark Lord. He couldn't afford to look incompetent in front of a former subordinate , even one who had no idea who he was.
Lucius's expression had gone stiff. He was furious, and he knew better than to say so.
As for the young man , Lucius hadn't met him many times, but something about him always felt familiar in a way he couldn't explain. Every time they were in the same room, a chill crawled down his spine. His hair stood on end. His chest tightened for no reason he could name.
The man was terrifyingly powerful. And yet no one had ever mentioned him. He'd appeared from nowhere.
And this same terrifyingly powerful wizard did whatever Hermione told him to.
Just what was this Gryffindor witch?
He'd been dragged onto her operation against his will, but she had kept her end of the bargain , Draco had been cleared of the suspicion hanging over him, the accusation of killing a classmate wiped clean. And the benefits hadn't stopped there. Draco was now officially recognized as the Heir of Slytherin. The Malfoy name had risen further among the pure-blood families. Other houses were coming to Lucius with offers of cooperation.
He couldn't honestly say he was unhappy. The family's position had improved in real, measurable ways.
But happy? He couldn't quite get there.
Because he knew exactly what it all was. Hermione's calculation. Every piece of it.
He was lashed to her ship now, completely and permanently. No telling what she'd ask of him next.
Get off?
Not a chance.
All he could do was pray that Hermione's ship, wherever it was sailing, didn't sink.
➤ Next: Remus Lupin
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