It seemed Tam wasn't the only one to think that Yavin's injuries took the highest priority. In seconds he was surrounded by bodies, crowded in with Unspeakables. In contrast to what their name might suggest, it seemed everyone had something to say. Remove the sliver, don't remove the sliver. Turn him to keep him from asphyxiating on his blood, don't move him until professionals arrived. Try rennervate to bring him back to consciousness, do the opposite and send him into a deeper sleep. Conflicting voices, conflicting views. Others stood around with faces pale, mouths agape, struck dumb by the import of the situation at hand.

Every second stretched to an eternity, every blink of the eye an eon. It felt as if time was taking its revenge for them having tinkered with its normal flow, but Tam knew that the truth was far more simple: adrenaline. His blood was pumping, pounding in his ears, and he knew that when the shock subsided the world would right itself. Still, he had never been so relieved to see trained help arrive.

"Be careful - the wand exploded," Tam told the Unspeakable Healers as he handed over care of their boss.

He stood and wiped the sweat from his brow, smearing a single drop of blood across his forehead in the process, and took a couple of steps closer to where Virgil and Francis conversed. As a fellow Unspeakable, Tam understood the importance of recording observations when they were fresh, but someone really ought to have a look at Carstairs just to be sure there were no lingering effects from his trip.

"...I think I have to go back again…" the young wix's words took a moment to register in Pentameter's brain, but when they did he laughed. It wasn't a mirthful sound, but a maniacal one.

"Back?" He asked, his voice high and panicked, "Are you aware of what just happened? Because I'm not! Yavin could die - you almost died!"

Then, because he was trained to deal with stressful situations, he took a deep breath and calmed himself. "May I take your vitals?" He asked, reaching out a hand for Virgil's wrist.

"How would you even manage a return trip? Your anchor shattered Carstairs. Even if you managed to bond a new wand this instant, the bond wouldn't be nearly strong enough to keep you tethered to life," Tam had been studying the bond between wix and wand quite extensively in his own time and knew that a newly-bonded wand, regardless of its strength, would be insufficient to the task. Of course, Francis had his own reply, something to do with time (as the Peppers were known for) and Tam could only agree. They had pissed off forces beyond their control - it was not wise to antagonize them further.

His thoughts were all running in different directions and he wished there was a way to just grab each one by the tail, pull them into one place. Stay still.

        "Hours? How old did he look?” Francis was quick to ask.

The memory of his older self resurfaced in the mind's eye, clear as day. "Two or so years older. Can't be any more than four or five," he replied with a shake of his head. "It's hard to say."

Once he had joked to Pepper that his baby face made it difficult to gauge age, but it didn't seem very funny right now. Not with the tattoo teasing death.

Virgil's idea to return through the veil wasn't very well received by the older wizard - even less so by Unspeakable Puddifoot, who was suddenly in his personal space and talking a mile minute. His wrist found itself in the other man's grasp, and he stared at the smear of blood across Tam's forehead. Blood. Yavin's blood?

Right, and V's wand, fuck, his wand. Merlin, he was going to be sick.

"But--" he paused to force down the nausea. "He... he said we have to go see Diagon first, that he'd explain after. That means I need to see him again, right?"

This wasn't going at all like he expected. "We didn't have time for more," Virgil licked his lips, suddenly angry at... well at himself, technically. The imbecile wasted precious seconds clapping.

“That means I need to see him again, right?” Virgil posed, and Francis hummed in thought.

“Potentially…” his gaze turned to the remains of the shattered wand. “But if you’ve lost your wand…” no… could it be? He kept the thought to himself. No reason to jump to conclusions. “What we know is that something’s going to change everything between us and Muggles, and the Futurists are behind it. This needs to be notified to all departments - Quill or whoever - and Solomon…”

Pentameter shook his head from side to side, partially in denial and partially to signify his disagreement. He had been invited to observe only, it wasn't his place to speak up, but really - fuck that. This had grown much larger than the original experiment, and he had never been good at minding his own business anyway.

"Is that wise?" He asked, gently giving Virgil back his hand and seating himself on the floor. "Showing up to Diagon with a phalanx of obliviators and aurors is likely to tip off these Futurists. If we were meant to change things, surely the being beyond the veil would have said so. He said to 'see things', right?"

Tam didn't like the idea of following the advice of a dying man, not that people facing their mortal end couldn't be trusted, but this was a man from an unknown future - it was impossible to tell his true intentions, but he didn't see how they had much choice. "After whatever happens happens, we can send someone else through the curtain. Perhaps the Virgil of the future meant the collective you rather than the singular when he said that he would explain after,"

He felt relieved to have a moment to himself, as Francis and Tam went over what their next step ought to be. That was ultimately more their decision - Virgil was messenger and medium, what influence he had related only to the things he remembered from his journey.

Yavin would have known what to do. Would have given orders without hesitating.

        "...we can send someone else through the curtain," Puddifoot was saying.

V snapped away from his thoughts, startled by the suggestion. He hadn't thought of that! They could send someone else. Except: "No," he shook his head. "Everyone has a different crossroad, how do we send someone else to mine?"

If he were honest, the idea of another trip through the arch wasn't ideal. Tam was right about one thing; he could have died. They ran the risk of him dying every single time, and his future self's clock could even be an indicator of that.

       "Seems that Morgenthau is on his way to hospital," Rothschild interrupted them, brusque. "What are we doing?" she checked her watch. "Past noon. The Gala, it begins at five, no?"

"Fireworks at sunset," Unspeakable Tan interjected from where she was carefully winding the red yarn back into a ball. "Half past four."

Virgil glanced at Tam and then at Francis, who he assumed was taking lead. "He did say he wanted us to see, first."

Sasha nodded at introduction from the Unspeakable sitting next to him and identified himself as "Trainee Snow" before turning back to the task at hand.  After a few glances between the goings on in the scene in front of him and his every-growing list of notes, Sasha realized what Tam had meant. 

He quickly corrected his mistake and and turned his attention back to the veil as Virgil quickly re-emerged from the depths with an explosion that lodged a piece of wand-wood in Morgenthau's neck. 

Sasha jumped to his feet, a step behind Tam, and moved towards the center of the room - poised to help in anyway he could.  He started to offer to fetch the Healer from Level 2 but efforts were already in place to take Morgenthau to St. Mungo's

Sasha's eyebrows raised and his gaze flickered between Virgil and Unspeakable Pepper as the later spoke of the Futurists and mentioned Professor Trishna.  Since starting his studies at Cambridge, Sasha had become the newest fledgling member of Professor Trishna's consortium of wizarding scholars at the Muggle university.  That name had surfaced a few times in passing - mostly during late-evening sessions in the laboratory.  There was never much in the way of details; hearing the name here felt surreal. 

Sasha's quill hovered over the notes, trying to wrap his head around the comments enough to consolidate them for the report.  He opened his mouth to ask a question but the brewing chaos swiftly shifted towards talk of sending Virgil back. 

“What we know is that something’s going to change everything between us and Muggles, and the Futurists are behind it. This needs to be notified to all departments - Quill or whoever - and Solomon…”

"I could be a messenger - if you can spare a scribe," he offered.