Enola Scamander grew up at Hogwarts during the reign of Grindelwald-practically abandoned there by her older brothers-Newt and Theseus. As their fame grew rampant and their involvement in the fight against Grindelwald became public, Enola's sense of...
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HOLD HIGH OUR POWER STRONG
"I know you're scared; I am too. But it's the only power we have."
—Enola Holmes
The steady footfall of boots upon steel flooring prompted my head to lift from my arms, my body unwinding itself from the infantile position in which it had rested. I made no move to stand and greet the intruder, but remained sitting dejectedly in the lonely corridor.
He came around the corner, his strides long and purposeful, star spangled suit once again resting on his frame. He stopped short when he spotted me, his eyes flashing.
"You off to fight a war, Captain?"
Steve's orbs roamed my feeble form, taking note of how my arms held fast my knees to chest. I leant my weight into the cool metal digging into my back, my eyes blinking up at the towering super soldier before me.
"Never stopped."
His hand was offered out and I took a moment to stare blatantly at the calloused limb before grasping onto it firmly, pulling myself into a standing position.
If he noticed my glossy eyes and blood rushed face, he didn't mention it. Instead, his hand released mine, falling back to his side lamely.
"You find the God of Greensleeves?"
He nodded. "Stark tower; portal to an alien army; we're hijacking a quinjet. You got a suit?"
I reminisced about the old auror robes I would wear, deeming them to be quite impractical in this new world's setting. 'That's enough of that,' I thought.
My wand was once again within the familiar grasp of my hand, pointed towards my own body as I muttered the Transfiguratio enchantment under my breath.
Instead of the outdated outfit I had been wearing the entire trip, I bore a pair of tight fitting trousers and a simple blouse—its pocket big enough to fit my leafy friend, who hadn't stopped patting my shoulder since I had collapsed into a state of emotional distress.
"This ought to do, I suppose," I sighed, stowing away the magical stick. It slid into a conveniently placed loop at my waist, and despite being rather exposed, I figured it would serve me better that way.
"Uh, yes...and you'll be needing this," he said, hand reaching into his pocket to withdraw my comm—that I had long since abandoned.
I took it from him gingerly, being careful not to linger too long before placing it into my ear cavity, the familiar buzzing returning once more.
"Stark?"
Steve's eyes locked onto mine as Tony Stark's voice filtered in through the commlink. "Yes, Hocus Pocus?"
