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The Hub. Control Room.
"Eighteen high-ranking Aurors? Three magical motherships?"
The numbers echoed in the silent room.
Garrett's heart sank, and a chill ran down his spine that had nothing to do with the air conditioning. We're doomed.
This wasn't a skirmish; it was a war. And the Ministry—his ace in the hole—had just been obliterated by a single teenager.
Coulson and the others exchanged bewildered glances, their faces pale.
Eighteen?
They had just experienced the power of one wizard. The temporary hitman on the floor had nearly wiped out a team of elite agents and an awakened Inhuman in thirty seconds.
And Hermione had fought eighteen of them? While trapped? While being bombarded by flying fortresses?
The gap in power was vertiginous.
"The Witch," May whispered, looking at the ceiling as if she could see the battle in D.C., "is a monster."
Seemingly sensing the awe in the room, Luna Lovegood hummed, twirling her wand. She pointed a radish-earring-clad ear toward the unconscious wizard.
"Him?" Luna scoffed lightly. "He's far inferior to a real Auror. He's a contractor. A Hit Wizard. If he were a real Auror, I would have had to use two spells."
"Far from it..." Coulson muttered, looking at the man who had nearly killed them.
That was the budget version?
Upon hearing Luna speak, Victoria Hand lowered her weapon slightly, her eyes narrowed behind her glasses.
"Are you a wizard?" Hand asked, her voice clipped.
Luna nodded, her smile serene. "My name is Luna. Hermione sent me. She said she went to deal with the Nargles in D.C., but she suspected there might be Wrackspurts targeting her friends here."
She beamed at Skye. "You have a lot of Wrackspurts floating around your head. It's the vibration."
Everyone suddenly realized. She's a student.
Since the Convergence, "Hogwarts" had become synonymous with "Nuclear Deterrent." If this dreamy little girl was Hermione's friend, she was likely packing enough firepower to level the base.
Just then, Coulson's eyes sharpened. He stepped back, putting distance between himself and the two S.H.I.E.L.D. commanders.
"Miss Lovegood came specifically to help because of Hermione..." Coulson said slowly.
He turned his gaze to John Garrett and Victoria Hand.
"But why are you here?"
The question hung in the air.
Suddenly, the context shifted. The relief vanished. Everyone realized that these reinforcements might not be here to save them. They might be here to finish the job.
"The Clairvoyant..." Coulson uttered the word in a low voice.
In an instant, he realized the truth. The All-Seeing Eye they had been hunting wasn't psychic. He was a high-level agent with clearance to read their files.
And he was standing right in front of them.
Click.
Almost simultaneously, the strike teams behind Garrett and Hand raised their weapons. It was a Mexican standoff.
"Victoria," Garrett said smoothly, his hand resting on his pistol. "You're looking a little tense. Something to hide?"
"Drop the act, John," Hand snapped, her aim steady. "We know about the encrypted channels. We know about the unauthorized flights."
Both sides presented reasonable accusations. Hand suspected Garrett. Garrett accused Hand. It was a mirror maze of lies.
Coulson looked back and forth. His gut said Garrett. His logic said Hand. The stalemate was perfect.
Just then.
Luna, who had been inspecting a potted plant in the corner, tilted her head. She spoke softly, her voice cutting through the tension.
"It's so troublesome to keep arguing like this."
Everyone paused, turning to look at her.
She seemed oblivious to the assault rifles pointed at her head. She raised her wand casually, pointing it vaguely between the two commanders.
"Who's the bad guy?" Luna asked, blinking her large, grey eyes. "I can just use Legilimency to find out, can't I?"
Coulson, May, and Skye were taken aback.
Then, realization dawned.
Yes!
They had forgotten. Wizards could read minds. Hermione had done it to Fury. It was invasive, it was rude, and right now, it was the only way to survive.
For Coulson, it was a solution. For John Garrett, it was a death sentence.
Garrett's heart skipped a beat. His feigned composure froze. A bead of cold sweat slid down his temple.
Legilimency? Mind reading?
If she looked inside his head, she wouldn't just see Hydra. She would see the Centipede Project. She would see Ian Quinn. She would see the orders to kill Skye.
He subconsciously took a half-step back, his eyes flickering to the exits.
On the other side, Victoria Hand frowned. She hated the idea of a wizard rummaging through her brain—Level 8 secrets were sacred.
But then she remembered Pierce. S.H.I.E.L.D. was dead. The secrets were already on the internet.
"Fine," Hand sighed, lowering her gun slightly. "Do it. I have nothing to hide from this."
The atmosphere in the control room shifted. Garrett was cornered.
Luna stepped forward, her wand tip glowing faintly.
"Let's see..." Luna hummed. "Eeny, meeny, miny..."
"DO IT!"
Garrett roared, his mask shattering.
"KILL THEM! NOW!"
The soldiers behind him—Hydra sleepers—reacted instantly. They raised their rifles, aiming not at Hand, but at the wizard.
BANG BANG BANG BANG—!
Gunfire erupted. A hail of bullets tore through the air, filling the small room with deafening noise.
Skye screamed. Coulson dove for cover.
However, Luna didn't move. She didn't flinch. She just waved her wand like she was swatting a fly.
"Protego Totalum."
A transparent, shimmering barrier instantly unfolded in front of her and the S.H.I.E.L.D. loyalists.
PING. PING. PING.
The bullets struck the barrier and flattened, dropping to the floor like hail. The air rippled, but the shield held firm.
While blocking the fusillade with one hand, Luna tapped her wand forward repeatedly with the other.
"Petrificus Totalus."
It wasn't one spell. It was a machine-gun rapid-fire of silent casting.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
Behind Garrett, his men stiffened. Their arms snapped to their sides. Their legs locked together. They toppled over like bowling pins, hitting the floor with rigid, heavy sounds.
It took three seconds. The entire Hydra squad was paralyzed.
The gunfire stopped abruptly.
Only John Garrett remained standing. He pulled the trigger of his pistol. Click. Empty.
He looked around. His men were statues. The weird girl was smiling at him.
Luna lowered the shield.
"Oh look," she said dreamily. "I found the bad guy."
The control room fell silent once again.
Coulson and the others stood up, brushing dust off their clothes. They looked at the scene with awe.
Just moments ago, they were dead. Now, the threat was neutralized by a girl wearing radish earrings.
Everyone looked at Garrett with complicated expressions.
The "Clairvoyant." The ghost they had chased for months. The man who had tortured them, manipulated them, and nearly killed Skye.
It was John Garrett. Coulson's friend. Ward's mentor.
"John..." Coulson whispered, betrayal etched on his face. "Why?"
Garrett dropped his gun. He grinned—a manic, desperate expression.
"Why?" Garrett laughed, tapping his chest. "Because I saw the writing on the wall, Phil. S.H.I.E.L.D. is a relic. Hydra is the future."
He looked at Luna, sneering. "Or at least... it was until the circus came to town."
Luna tilted her head.
"You have a lot of Nargles in your head," she observed. "And a lot of metal in your chest. You're dying, aren't you?"
Garrett's smile vanished.
"Hail Hydra," he spat.
"Stupefy."
A jet of red light hit him in the chest. Garrett crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
Victoria Hand holstered her weapon, looking at Luna with newfound respect (and fear).
"Thank you, Miss Lovegood," Hand said stiffly. "We'll take it from here."
Luna shrugged. "Okay. Can I have some pudding now?"