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"Magic?" John Garrett's smile faltered, just for a millisecond. "You... she healed a fatal wound with magic?"
Coulson nodded, looking toward the medical bay with relaxed relief. "Thanks to Hermione's amazing abilities, Skye is back on her feet. No surgery required."
Before Garrett could process the strategic disaster of this news, the hydraulic door to the medical pod hissed open.
Skye stepped out. Her face was still slightly pale, but she moved with fluid grace. She stretched her arms, winced dramatically, and then stuck her tongue out at Coulson.
"I'm starving," she announced. "Is there pizza?"
Garrett's pupils contracted to pinpoints. He stared at her midsection, where two 9mm bullets should have ended her life. There was nothing. Not even a bandage.
He forced his mask back into place, widening his grin until it reached his eyes.
"That's great!" Garrett boomed, clapping his hands. "We're relieved to see you're alright, kid! Truly!"
He turned to Hermione, nodding respectfully. "Thanks to the Witch's amazing magic. It's truly an eye-opener. S.H.I.E.L.D. owes you one."
Hermione stood leaning against the bulkhead, munching on a chocolate frog. She watched Garrett with heavy-lidded, predatory eyes.
She saw it. The micro-expression of fury. The fleeting shadow of a man watching his life's work crumble.
He's good, Hermione thought, amused. But not good enough.
Who would have thought that this affable, rugged "good guy," Ward's mentor and Coulson's old friend, was actually the high-ranking Hydra operative known as the Clairvoyant?
Garrett was dying. His mechanical organs were failing. He had orchestrated everything—Quinn, the Centipede serum, shooting Skye—just to force Coulson to reveal the secret of his resurrection (GH-325). He needed the miracle drug to save himself.
But Hermione had ruined it. She had healed Skye with magic, bypassing the need for the alien drug entirely. Coulson's secret remained safe. Garrett was still dying.
Just then, Melinda May walked in, wiping her hands on a towel.
"Quinn is awake. And he's smug."
Coulson's face hardened. "Let's go meet him."
Garrett and Triplett fell in step behind him. Ward walked silently ahead, his shoulders tense. Skye, energized by her magical recharge, jogged to catch up.
"I'm coming too. I want to see the look on his face."
Coulson glanced at her but didn't object. "Stay behind Ward."
The Interrogation Room.
Ian Quinn sat in the metal chair, handcuffed to the table. He wore a confident, oily smile. He believed he was untouchable. He believed the Clairvoyant had planned for everything.
"Agent Coulson," Quinn drawled as the team entered. "We meet again. Unfortunately, you probably won't get anything out of me this time. My lawyers are already filing motions."
Coulson remained expressionless. "Really? Mr. Quinn, you're quite confident for a man in international airspace."
"Of course," Quinn spread his hands. "The Clairvoyant sees everything. He knew you were coming. He knows your moves before you make them."
WHAM.
Grant Ward lunged forward and punched Quinn in the jaw.
It wasn't a calculated interrogation strike. It was raw anger. Ward liked Skye. He had been forced to watch her bleed out because of Garrett's plan, and he couldn't hit his master. So Quinn became the punching bag.
"Shut up!" Ward snarled.
Quinn spat blood onto the table, still grinning. "Do you think I would betray him? His power is beyond your imagination. He sees the future!"
Coulson shook his head, signaling Ward to back off. He prepared to let May take over.
Suddenly, the door slid open again.
Skye walked in. Her steps were light, her chin held high. She wore a defiant smirk.
Quinn's smile vanished. His eyes bulged. He looked like he had seen a ghost.
"You..." Quinn stammered, staring at her stomach. "How... how are you walking? I saw the blood! You were shot twice!"
Skye walked up to the table, leaned in close, and whispered.
"Yes, I was shot."
She tapped her stomach.
"But it seems I've disappointed you. I don't die easy."
Quinn stared intently at her, his brain malfunctioning. "Impossible... absolute impossible... gut shots don't just heal..."
"Nothing is impossible."
A cool, melodic voice drifted from the shadows behind Skye.
Hermione strolled out slowly. She leaned against the doorframe, twirling her wand between her fingers.
Quinn looked up. When he saw the face that had been plastered on every news channel during the Convergence, the color drained from his skin completely.
"A... a Witch?!"
Quinn gasped, pressing himself back into his chair. "The Destroyer of London?!"
He realized instantly why Skye was alive. The Clairvoyant had predicted S.H.I.E.L.D. tactics. He hadn't predicted a literal wizard.
Hermione smiled, but her eyes were devoid of warmth. They were the eyes of a apex predator looking at a chew toy.
"It seems you know me," Hermione said softly. "That makes things easier."
She took two steps forward. The air pressure in the room dropped. The lights flickered. An invisible weight pressed down on Quinn's chest, making it hard to breathe.
"Now," Hermione placed her hands on the table. "I'm giving you two choices."
"One: You honestly confess everything. Who is the Clairvoyant? What is the plan?"
"Two: I use Legilimency."
She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a terrifying whisper. "Do you know what that is, Mr. Quinn? It means I rip open your skull and sift through your memories like a filing cabinet. I'll see every thought, every secret, every dirty little moment. And when I'm done... your mind will be scrambled eggs."
"Into my brain?" Quinn shuddered violently.
He looked at the girl. He believed her.
"I'll talk!" Quinn screamed, his confidence shattering like glass. "I'll talk! Don't let her in my head! The Clairvoyant... he just wanted to know how Coulson lived! That was the whole point! He wanted the resurrection drug!"
The interrogation room fell silent.
Coulson's face was a mask of shock. Garrett looked down at his boots, hiding his expression. Ward clenched his fists.
It was all about me? Coulson thought, horrified. Skye almost died because of T.A.H.I.T.I.?
The Corridor.
Ten minutes later, the group exited the room, leaving a broken Quinn behind.
Hermione looked at Coulson. "So, who is this 'Clairvoyant'?"
Coulson rubbed his temples. "A mysterious adversary. We've been tracking him for months. He's... tricky."
"He predicts our movements," Coulson explained. "He knew about missions before we launched them. He knew about personal details."
Garrett nodded sagely. "Yeah. Slippery bastard. Always one step ahead."
"Our working theory," Coulson continued, "is that he possesses some kind of precognitive ability. Or remote viewing. A psychic."
Hermione listened, then shook her head decisively.
"Impossible."
Everyone stopped. They looked at the expert on the paranormal.
"Predictive knowledge? Remote surveillance on that scale?" Hermione scoffed.
"According to your description, he predicts tactical details perfectly, repeatedly, over months? No."
She crossed her arms. "Even Gellert Grindelwald—the greatest Seer of the last century, a Dark Lord who swept across half the Wizarding World with an army of fanatics—couldn't do that with such precision."
"And I'm a natural Seer," Hermione added, tapping her temple. "Prophecy is vague. It's riddles and metaphors. It's 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches,' not 'Agent Coulson will take a left turn at Albuquerque.'"
The hallway went dead silent.
"Wait..." Trip raised a hand, his eyes wide. "What did I just hear?"
"Gellert Grindelwald?" Garrett asked, his brow furrowing. "Dark Lord? Swept across half the world?"
The S.H.I.E.L.D. agents stared at her in horror.
They had assumed the "Wizarding World" was a peaceful, hidden society of scholars like Hermione. Now, she was casually dropping names of magical Hitlers who had nearly conquered the globe.
"You guys... had a World War?" Skye whispered.
"Two, actually," Hermione shrugged. "Grindelwald in the 40s. Voldemort in the 90s. Nasty business."
She looked at Coulson, ignoring their shock.
"My point is," Hermione said, "Magic has rules. Seers don't work like GPS. If this 'Clairvoyant' knows your every move, he isn't psychic."
She looked directly at John Garrett, her eyes piercing.
"He just has a really good security clearance."
Garrett froze.
"He's not reading the future, Phil," Hermione said simply. "He's reading your files."