Anna's POV – Washington D.C.
The hum of the plane's descent blended with the tension in Anna's chest. The moment the wheels touched down at Reagan National Airport, she grabbed her coat, her badge, and her purpose.
She wasn't here as a friend or ally today. She was here as a commanding officer.
By noon, Anna had stepped into the high-security branch office of her agency nestled in a quiet government district in Washington, D.C.—a sleek building disguised as a legal consultancy firm. The moment she flashed her credentials, the agents inside straightened. Most of them were older than her, some with more years in the field. But everyone knew Anna didn't rise fast through pity or politics—she earned her reputation through precision, grit, and a few classified operations that still made seasoned agents sweat.
Inside the glass-walled conference room, she tossed a file on the table. The logo stamped at the corner—a dagger entwined with a serpent—caught the light.
"Serpentis Fang," she said coldly, "is no longer just some underground smuggling outfit. They're into something deeper. I want every single piece of information we have on them—shipping routes, financial backers, shell companies, private contractors, customs clearance data, everything."
One of the agents, a thin man with sharp glasses named Reynolds, leaned forward. "You believe they're operating outside the regular intel grid?"
"I know they are," Anna replied. "And they're targeting children."
The room fell silent.
"I need a full report—physical documents only. No digital trail. Delivered to me personally by tomorrow morning."
Reynolds hesitated. "That's a tall order, Agent Anna. I'll have to coordinate with Treasury and Homeland—"
Anna cut him off. "You'll have what you need. Clearance code 'Black Whisper'. That's my authorization. Use it."
Eyes widened around the table. That code hadn't been used in over a year.
She stood, gathering the file again.
"Dismissed. And Reynolds—if I see a single delay, I'll assume someone inside is compromised."
He gave a tight nod.
As the agents scattered into motion, Anna stepped into the hallway, her face unreadable. But deep inside, a storm was brewing.
Zane's POV – The Blind Pig, New York
The pop of Apparition landed Zane in a narrow alley behind an unmarked door in lower Manhattan. With a tap of his wand and a muttered incantation, the door shimmered open—revealing the glowing, dimly lit interior of The Blind Pig Speakeasy.
Inside, the air was thick with enchantments and whispers. Spells drifted lazily through the room, some changing the colors of drinks, others muffling the words of private conversations. A jazz band played faintly in the background, charmed to be audible only near the stage.
Zane arrived early—10:45 AM—just as planned. He walked straight to the back corner, where shadows draped the booth like a veil. He took his seat and glanced toward the bar.
Then he waited.
11:00 AM.No sign of Jim.
11:10 AM.Still nothing.
11:15 AM.
The front door swung open.
A tall man in brown robes stepped inside, glancing once toward the back. Then he made his way directly toward Zane.
Zane folded his arms, not bothering to hide his look of annoyance.
"You're late," he said flatly.
Jim leaned back. "Come on, do I look like someone working in the Magical Congress Administrative Office? I'm not exactly drowning in free time."
Zane smirked. "Fair point."
A server came by and wordlessly placed a mug of something warm between them. Jim didn't touch it. He leaned in.
"I got your letter. You asked about missing muggle-born kids awakening magic." He exhaled. "There's no official record. Nothing."
Zane's jaw tensed.
Jim continued, "Wizards don't usually care about muggle issues. Unless it disrupts our side, it's ignored. And Ilvermorny School?" He shook his head. "No complaints. No alerts. Not even a whisper of missing students."
Zane's fingers drummed the table. "That's because Ilvermorny waits for parents to reply, right? When they send that acceptance letter?"
"Exactly."
"So if someone intercepts the letter—forces the parents to respond negatively—the school assumes the child's been denied."
"Wouldn't be hard," Jim admitted. "You control the parents, control the letters. No alarms go off."
Zane muttered, "Looks like I need to start meeting parents of those fifteen missing kids myself."
Jim gave him a sharp look. "That's dangerous ground. Especially if you're right about this group."
Zane nodded. "I know."
He reached into his coat, pulled out the folded parchment with the dagger and serpent.
"I need your help again. Can you run this through MACUSA's symbol records? Any dark group, historical cult, banned guild—anything."
Jim took the parchment carefully and tucked it inside his coat. "I'll see what I can dig up. But if it's old… or erased from record, it'll take time."
"Meet me here again tomorrow. Same time," JIm said.
zane raised an eyebrow. "Sure. Just don't be late this time."
Jim smirked. "I'll try to be on wizard time."
They stood, exchanged a subtle nod, and parted ways.
As Zane stepped back into the street, the shadows of Manhattan stretched around him. The deeper they dug, the more the truth twisted beneath the surface.