Knock knock knock
"Why didn't you use the doorbell?"
"What's a doorbell?"
"Oh."
The door to Number Four Privet drive opened making the three people standing behind it still and shut their mouths.
Vernon Dursley studied them. They're faces were set into an emotionless mask and their eyes were covered by dark, black aviators. Each of them wore parts of their school uniforms - mainly the parts that didn't show the crest - but he didn't need to know that. There were two tall redheads at the end of the drive looking far too serious.
"Good evening, sir." The black haired girl said formally. "My name is Agent Tell." She motioned to the girl on her left. "This is Agent Hermio." She motioned to the red head boy on her right. "And this is Agent Bill." She jerked her thumb back behind her. "Just ignore them."
Uncle Vernon narrowed his eyes at the girl.
"We're from the MBI, here to question Mr. Harry Potter." She explained. "It seems he was witness to a rather brutal killing – blood and organs everywhere,"
Uncle Vernon's whole face scrunched in on itself and gradually turned a purple-red color.
"It was a real mess." She went on. "We just need to get a report on what actually happened since there were no survivors." She watched him and gauged his reaction. "'Cause, ya know, possible spontaneous combustion… organs all over the place."
"Get down here, boy!" Uncle Vernon called up the stairs, but made no move to leave, so the girl continued to speak.
"They're still cleaning the bits of brain off the lampposts. I mentioned it was in the middle of a busy street, didn't I? There were other witnesses, of course, but some got bits of combusted organs in their mouths and well…" She clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth and chuckled. "They're still a bit traumatized." She squinted a bit and added as an afterthought, "Though stomach with a little bit of salt and gravy isn't too bad of a taste." She nodded at him.
The girl and boy next her were trying not to laugh at their friend, while also trying not to vomit.
"Potter!" Uncle Vernon yelled up the stairs once more in a more aggressive voice, and this time, someone came down them. "Get rid of these lunatics." Uncle Vernon told him, glancing once more at the people outside of his house before turning around and leaving to the kitchen.
"Mr. Potter," The girl smirked. "We're from the MBI here to question you on the brutal spontaneous combustion you witnessed in a random busy street on…" She turned to the boy on her right. "When exactly?"
"That one time you dared Neville to eat 50 chocolate frogs and we thought he was gonna explode, but he just threw up." He told her, after thinking for a moment.
"Oh, yeah." She looked back at Harry. "Then." She said firmly. "I'm afraid you're gonna have to come with us."
Harry slowly started to smirk. "I just have to go tell my aunt and uncle."
"I'd say screw 'em, but if you must then go ahead. But be warned," The three pointed at him. "No trying to escape."
He held up his hands. "Cross my heart." And he turned around to go into the kitchen and tell his uncle that the only way to convince the lunatics to go was for him to follow them. They'd leave them alone after. Uncle Vernon wasn't too torn up over the news of Harry not being there for the rest of the day.
Walking down the street, Harry turned to his friends. "So what does MBI stand for?"
"Magical Bureau of Investigation." Ron told him. "I thought it up." He swelled his chest up.
"Yeah, right." The twins chorused quietly behind them.
"It's like the FBI, but better. More… magical." Emilie smiled, ignoring the twins.
"How do you know about the FBI, but you don't know what a doorbell is?" Hermione asked.
"I'm not completely incompetent, Hermione." Emilie rolled her eyes. "I read muggle newspapers just like everyone else."
"You do?"
"Well, I read the comics."
Harry smiled. "Thanks for getting me out of that prison, guys."
Ron scoffed. "We almost didn't. Your uncle wouldn't call for you until Emilie started getting graphic with the fake crime scene."
Emilie laughed loudly. "His face."