A/N: DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter or Criminal Minds and do not make any money off of this. This is my enjoyment and reviews/faves/follows are my compensation.
Here's the real first chapter of this story. If you have not read the background chapter, you may want to check it out. Some things may not make sense otherwise.
BTW, I am NOT using the Fantastic Beasts part of the HP Universe even though I am using certain Fantastic Beast institutions such as Ilvermorny for school backgrounds, so if my version of the American Magical Community is different from that, well it's called Fanfiction for a reason. I am using the phrases No-Maj and mundane as the standard PC phrase for Muggles and non-magic related things in America. Hopefully, my formatting will be more consistent as I continue this story and continue to fight both and Word. Enjoy!
Bunker Shot Chapter 1: Meeting the team
Harry Potter was nervous for his first day, just like he was nervous for his first day at Hogwarts, his first time at uni, and the first time at the DMLE. He stood in the front hall of the townhouse that he bought with his best friend, Hermione Granger, pacing through the front hall. The man was neither particularly large nor especially small, standing three inches under six foot. He had a lithe build, packed with lean muscle and littered with scars, his bespoke, dark blue suit emphasizing the muscle tone. He abandoned the accompanying tie, as anything tied around his neck risked triggering some lingering PTSD left over from his years at the Dursleys. He instead chose to leave the top two buttons of his shirt open for some breathing room. Harry tugged at the cuffs of his pastel blue shirt, nervously fiddling with the cufflinks that boasted the Potter Family Crest. A pair of simple, but expensive black Oxfords completed his 'First Day' look. He felt overdressed, but Hermione forced him to wear his best outfit.
As Harry turned to continue pacing the front hall, he grimaced at the uncomfortable weight of the Walther PPQ pistol sitting on his left hip. He wasn't used to carrying a firearm regularly, only when doing breaches on high-risk targets or in similarly special situations. However, FBI regulations required him to carry his gun everywhere outside of the FBI office, so he would do so. He was glad that they had allowed him to carry his trusted Walther instead of the standard issue Glock 22 that most agents carried. Harry felt that the German Walther was a better-made gun than the generic Austrian Glock. He kept a short combat knife strapped to his leg in place of the recommended Glock 27 that many field agents carried as a backup gun.
Harry did take comfort in the slight tightness on his right wrist where a thick leather bracelet sat. It was his pride and joy, the result of better than half a decade of work and study. He crafted it with Runes to replace the standard hostler, a simple leather tube that strapped to the underside of a wizards arm. The standard hostler, in Harry's opinion, was a hazard when engaging No Maj's or while in close-quarters. All it took was a well-aimed punch or kick, not to mention the accidental hits, to snap the wand in half while still contained in the leather tube. mundane
Harry looked at his watch impatiently before looking up the stairs.
"Hermione! We need to get going or we're going to be late! Apparating isn't permitted within a half-mile of Headquarters!" He could hear his housemate walking down the stairs, her heels clicking on the hardwood stairs.
"I know, I know. It just took longer to find a comfortable position for this pistol than I thought." Harry rolled his eyes.
"And that's why I told you to pick a subcompact pistol like the Bureau recommended instead of that ridiculous revolver that you insisted on. All you had to do was ask Susan for a recommendation, she would have given you a variety of guns to choose from." Hermione came into view, a scowl on her face. She was wearing a nice cream-colored pantsuit, matching heels, and lion earrings. She had a thinner version of his wand holster on her right wrist and a large Webley .45 revolver rode on her left hip. She was thin, but well-proportioned with strong legs. Her brown hair, uncontrollable in her youth, had tamed itself into flowing waves without the bushiness that plagued her school years. Hermione stood at three inches over five feet, though she could glare directly into Harry's eyes from her place on the stairs.
"And I told you that my grandfather carried this gun into battle during the Great War and it was bloody well good enough for him." Harry rolled his eyes skyward and prayed for patience.
"Hermione, I've seen photos of your grandfather. He was six and a half feet tall and the size of a professional rugby forward. A forty-five caliber, large frame revolver would be sensible in his hands, maybe even a bit small. You, on the other hand, are five-foot three, weigh one-ten soaking wet and have small hands to boot. That Webley is going to kick you in the teeth. But if that's what you want to carry, feel free. We have to leave now if we want to even appear to be on time." Harry turned around and walked out of the front door, pausing only to grab his keys. Hermione sighed and followed him, snagging her own set of keys from their place on the hallway table.
The pair got into Hermione's new Range Rover sitting in the driveway and set off for their first day on the job. A new adventure in a new land.
Emily was sitting at her desk, leisurely completing the paperwork from their last case as she waited for her co-workers to trickle into the office. She knew that Derek would be coming in next, followed closely by Rossi and Spencer. Hotch, of course, had been in his office working since well before even she arrived. Since the death of his wife, Hotch often worked early in the morning so that he could be home in time to spend time with Jack, his son, during the evenings that the team was in town.
A pair of people, one male and one female, stepped off the elevator, attracting Emily's attention. It wasn't the fact that they were stepping off that attracted her attention, plenty of people worked on this floor. It wasn't even the fact that they were coming straight into the bullpen and she didn't know them. There were several analysts who worked in the BAU whom she hadn't met despite her years in the unit. There was something about their gaits and postures which drew her attention to the pair.
The man, dressed in an obviously tailored blue suit, had messy black hair and striking green eyes. His eyes caught everything, though the actual movements of his eyes were minimal. He wasn't tall by any means, nor particularly imposing, but his posture was that of someone who knew how to handle themselves. There were a couple of obvious scars on the exposed parts of his body, the most obvious of which was a lightning bolt scar over his right eyebrow and a small scar just under his left eye.
The man subtly maintained a protective position for the woman who was a half-step behind him, although neither appeared consciously aware of their positions. That alone spoke of a long-time partnership, one that had faced both fire and trial. The man's positioning ensured that he was the first assessed by any potential enemies, leaving his partner either safe or as an unknown quantity. Emily's eyes then flicked back to observe his partner.
The woman was stunning, thin yet curvy in all the right places. She was average height for a woman, with wavy brown hair and honey-brown eyes. The woman wore a charcoal grey pantsuit and tasteful low-heeled shoes. While her clothes were not as obviously expensive as her male counterparts, they were still well-made and of high-quality material. She had a small bag slung over one shoulder and a massive revolver in a leather holster on her hip which wasn't covered by her suit jacket. Emily recognized the distinctive frame of an old Webley, the British officer service weapon from the second World War.
The slim woman held herself like a fighter, every step balanced regardless of the thin heels she wore. Her eyes held a similar glint of intelligence as Reid, though hers were tempered with caution and wariness that the young genius still needed to fully develop. She held an air of fond exasperation with her dark-haired companion, obviously aware of his protective position and well-used to it.
Emily got the immediate impression that the pair was either married (unlikely based on the lack of rings adorning their left hands, but possible) or had been partners for such a long time that they no longer needed traditional methods of communication. She couldn't get an accurate read on their ages, but they were likely a similar age to herself or older and just did not show their ages. She was guessing that the woman was a powerful woman, likely a congresswoman or major ADA, and the man was her long-time bodyguard. The Supervisory Special Agent was surprised when the pair stopped at her desk.
"Ma'am?" She was startled to hear a crisp London accent come from the man. "Is that," he indicated Hotch's office, "the office of Agent Hotchner?" Emily nodded, but raised a hand in front of him, stopping him as he began to move towards the stairs.
"Sir? Agent Hotchner is fairly busy right now, maybe I can be of some help?" The man shook his head and moved around her hand.
"Unfortunately, we must speak with Agent Hotchner directly and we're already running late." The man reached into his jacket but halted when a voice came from behind them, causing Emily to mentally groan.
"Sir? I'm going to have to ask you to hold on. Agent Hotchner is a busy man. I'm sure that whatever you need, myself or Agent Prentiss can help you." Derek, a tall and well-built African-American man, maneuvered himself in front of the dark-haired stranger. "Trust me."
The man looked down at the large hand placed on his shoulder in a vaguely threatening manner. He looked up and Emily was surprised to see a glint of amusement in the man's vibrantly green eyes. He continued removing his hand from the inside of his jacket and produced a thin leather case, flipping it open to reveal an FBI badge. Derek and Emily both blinked at the badge, though Derek maintained his position.
"Mate, I think I'm good. We are going to have an issue if you don't let go, however." Derek quickly removed his hand from the smaller man's shoulder, looking at the badge presented to him. Emily saw the woman casually jab an elbow into her partner's ribcage as she brushed past him. The man scowled at her and rubbed his injured ribs.
"Harry, stop being a prick for your own amusement. It's less funny here. Hello, I'm Agent Hermione Granger. And you are…?" She extended her hand to shake with the other two agents.
"Uh, Agent Derek Morgan, ma'am. This is Agent Emily Prentiss."
Hermione glared down at her partner and made a motion of her head towards Morgan and Prentiss. The man, Harry, shrugged and introduced himself.
"Fine. DCI… no, that's not right any more, is it? Agent Harry Potter." Emily's eyebrows rose. He was a former DCI? At his age? What would make someone on the fast track like that move agencies, let alone change countries? "We have an appointment with Agent Hotchner, so can we go now? Someone," Potter covertly motioned towards Hermione, "took forever getting ready this morning, so we're already running late." Derek stepped aside, mutely allowing the two Brits up the stairs. Both followed the pair with their eyes until they disappeared into Hotch's office.
"Are we getting two new people?" Emily shrugged helplessly in answer to Derek's question.
Aaron Hotchner was sitting in his office, going over potential cases for the team that Garcia had passed on to him. He looked up at a knock on his office door.
"Come." Two people, a man and woman, entered his office and he suddenly remembered that he was supposed to have two new people coming in today. Worse, they were Magicals and Aaron hated working with Magicals, the few times that he had to work with them. Aaron internally grimaced but stood and extended a hand towards the pair.
"Hello, you must be Agents Potter and Granger." The man (Potter, if Aaron remembered his name correctly) took his hand, Aaron noting the calluses covering his fingers and palm. He also took note of a peculiar scar that looked like writing on the back of Potter's right hand. His companion, Granger, shook Aaron's hand next. Her hand had fewer calluses, but still had more than he expected from a European Magical.
The Unit Chief for the BAU sat behind his desk, examining his new team members with new eyes. Most European Magicals that he had met were soft-handed, a bit overweight, and held themselves superior to anyone that did not have full magical heritage. These two, so far, didn't fit that profile. Both seemed to be fit, humble, and hard-working, leaving the profiler floundering without a valid profile to work from. Hopefully he could keep the fact that he was a Magical himself out of the conversation, relying on the fact that Unit Chiefs and above were read into the Magical World. So far, Aaron had interacted with numerous Magicals over his time at the Bureau and none had suspected that he used to practice Magic. He doubted these two would be any different.
Frustratingly, even with his Top Secret security clearance, Aaron's files on both Potter and Granger's personal and professional lives in the Magical community were heavily redacted. He knew their final scores on their OWLs and NEWTs, their mundane post-secondary education records, and their general conviction rates as Auror and Prosecutor. Anything else, the British Government told him, he had to learn from Potter and Granger themselves. They were the only ones cleared to tell anyone outside of the European Magical Communities what their roles were. The one thing that irked Aaron more than almost anything else was not getting all the information he needed to make a decision before having to make the decision.
"Agents, I have to say that I am hesitant to allow you two to join my team. While we are presently short-handed, I'm not sure that Magicals would be the proper fit to fill the open gaps, even Magicals with stellar mundane qualifications such as yourselves, though I know how easily obtained mundane qualifications are for Magicals in Europe." Agent Potter's face darkened as he leaned forward, though his forward progress was stopped at a touch from Agent Granger. He leaned back, a scowl dominating his sharp features.
"Agent Hotchner, I assume you are unaware of who we are in the British Magical Community or in the recent changes that the European Magical Communities have recently gone through?" Aaron furrowed his brow at that. What changes? He had been out of the loop, so to speak, on Magical events for over twenty years but the European communities hadn't made a significant change in over two hundred years as far as he knew.
"I'm not aware of anything significant changing since I was briefed on the Magical World a number of years ago. The primary point that I'm referring to is the rampant bigotry that is characteristic of the European Magical Community. So if who you are has something to do with who you are related to, then I really don't care." Agent Potter shifted forward, his emerald eyes drilling into Aaron's dark eyes.
"Well, Agent Hotchner, the bottom line is that Magical society has caught up with the times on the other side of the pond. And we helped catch them up. Were you read in on the Blood Wars in England a little over a decade ago?" Aaron nodded. He was read in by the FBI, but he also remembered hearing about Voldemort while in school, not long after he died from some freak accident involving a child… Wait. This was the Harry Potter, Britain's Golden Savior?
"Long story exceptionally short, Dark Wizard named Voldemort came back when I was a teen, tried to kill essentially everyone in Britain, I killed him a couple years later but he took most of the pure-blood powerbase with him. So we, along with others in our year group, helped to create a new constitution, and created a new form of governing. I helped combine the DMLE with New Scotland Yard as a division of Special Branch while Hermione helped to build both the Magical branch of the Crown Prosecution Office and a Public Defenders office. We both worked exceptionally hard for our qualifications so trust me, Agent Hotchner, when I tell you that your comment about our qualifications was deeply offensive." Potter continually made eye contact with Aaron the entire time he was talking, his green eyes glowing with suppressed power and indignation.
"My apologies. I jumped to conclusions based on the information that I had about the European Magical Community." Potter nodded and leaned back, content to allow Granger to continue speaking for the pair.
"Trust us, Agent, we have our own bad experiences with the Magical world. I'm a Muggleborn, or I guess you would call me a Mundane-born here in the States. Growing up in pure-blood controlled Britain, I've had my share of bigotry thrown my way. Harry has his own issues with our world, which is one of the reasons that we decided to make this move. We are both competent and have been tested and vetted by the highest levels of your agency and trained by those in the highest levels of our home country. Honestly, I believe that Harry is more valuable to you than me here. He spent the last twelve years as an active Auror in Major Crimes, the past four years as a DCI, whereas I have spent the last twelve years behind a desk as a prosecutor." Aaron felt his eyebrows go up in spite of himself. A DCI at age twenty-six was a feat by itself, to do so while also building a government and going to school made the feat even more impressive. He did feel the need to reassure Granger, however, as her own accomplishments were exceptional and valid.
"Agent Granger, I was a prosecutor myself before I decided to join the FBI and become a profiler. Your background is every bit as valuable to the FBI as Agent Potter's. My concern is that you were both involved in primarily Magical crimes. My team typically deals with serial killers of the mundane variety." Potter leaned forward again.
"And you're positive that none of the cases sitting in your 'Pending' stack are Magical serial killers that you've overlooked? It's really easy to not make the connections with Magical Crimes unless you focus on it. I've personally put away a dozen magical serial killers in the past six years alone, not including the rest of the detectives in my division. People are people, regardless of their abilities in magic. I also helped catch a couple of serials that came across my desk while working with the No Maj side of New Scotland Yard."
Aaron frowned at that. That was an angle he hadn't really considered. What if his team ran into a Magical serial killer? He certainly wasn't equipped to fight anyone with magic, even though he still secretly kept his wand in his Go Bag as a precaution. If Agent Potter was telling the truth, there could be cases that his team undertook that they couldn't solve without help. Or there were cases that they could help with that were currently being overlooked because his team didn't know what to look for?
"Alright, Agent Potter. We're going to try this on a trial basis, make sure that you two fit with the established dynamic of our team. I assume that both of you know that the Statute of Secrecy is taken exceptionally seriously by the FBI and that none of the rest of the team can know about our abilities?" Potter and Granger nodded. "Do either of you carry a gun and know how to use it? You can't be in the field with just your wands." Potter smirked.
"Agent Hotchner, I've worked with the mundane police before. We are both following FBI protocol and have our weapons on us, as well as having qualified on the range prior to coming here. We also have our wands," Potter held up his wrist and showed him a thick leather bracelet. Aaron frowned.
"You use a bracelet as a wand?" It was Potter's turn to frown.
"No, the bracelet is a wand holster. It's essentially standard issue for every Magical cop in the world." Aaron blinked. He hadn't heard of any innovations in holsters, but then again, he didn't really pay attention either. No one knew he was a wizard, so there was no reason for the FBI to keep him in the loop on specialized information such as that.
"Ok. Well, we have a meeting in just a few minutes to brief on our new case. Do you two have Go Bags?" Potter stifled a laugh. He elaborated at a raised eyebrow from Aaron, digging out a small pouch from his pants pocket. Granger glared at the obviously amused Potter before bringing out a beaded pouch from her purse.
"We've had a 'Go Bag' on us every day since we were forced on the run at sixteen. No one back home ever understood why we kept three weeks of clothes and rations on us at all times." Aaron let slip a rare smile.
"Well, three weeks might be a bit excessive but Go Bags are a normal aspect of the BAU. I would recommend a more conventional bag for appearances sake, however. Perhaps a duffle or a small suitcase?"
A knock came on his door and it opened a small amount.
"Sir?" A redhaired woman in… interesting… glasses poked her head into the office. She had a round face and her hair was pulled up into pigtails. "We're ready for you in the conference room." The woman looked to the side and did a double-take. "I'm really sorry, sir, I didn't know you were in a meeting." Aaron stood up and motioned her to open the door more.
"That's alright, Garcia. These are Agents Potter and Granger. They are joining us on a trial run for this coming case." Garcia's mouth went into an 'O' shape in understanding, though Aaron could discern a hint of suspicion in her eyes. She stepped inside the door and offered her hand to the two agents, who had stood up at the same time Aaron did.
"Hi, I'm Penelope Garcia. Tech analyst and information queen extraordinaire." Granger shook her hand first, then Potter. Garcia smiled at them, obviously a little uncomfortable with the newcomers.
"Agents, are you both going to be alright using the iPads or should I get paper copies of the files for you?" Granger and Potter shook their heads.
"Whatever the team uses is fine with us," Granger said as Potter nodded alongside her. Everyone filed out of Aaron's office and followed Garcia to the conference room where the rest of the team was waiting.
"Team, meet Agents Harry Potter and Hermione Granger," Hotch said to the team. "They are on a trial run with our unit."
Prentiss and Morgan nodded, reaching over to shake hands with both Potter and Granger. Rossi and Reid both introduced themselves quickly and the group sat, Aaron indicating for Garcia to begin the briefing. The curvy redhead clicked her remote, bringing up an image of a young blonde, blue-eyed woman on the main screen. Beside her, a second image showing a bloody sand bunker from a golf course appeared.
"Attention, golf lovers all, because this case may change your minds. In the small, but affluent town of Pinehurst, North Carolina, three bodies have popped up over the last six months. The first victim, Carla Donovan, was a prostitute who died back on May 10th. She was viciously beaten and placed on the final sand bunker of Hole Two on Course One. She was alive when she was found but died from internal bleeding en route to the hospital. The sheriff department did a short investigation but found nothing." Garcia clicked her remote again. The image of a young black woman, brown eyed and with a cascade of brown braids, appeared on the screen beside a picture of the same woman beaten, lying in white sand.
"The second victim, Taquisha Walkerton, was another prostitute killed on August 10th. Like the first victim, she was viciously beaten but this time she was killed before she was dumped on the final sand bunker of Hole Two, this time on Course Two. Here's the weird part: the ME who examined her could not find a cause of death." Morgan and Reid looked up sharply while Potter and Granger glanced at each other.
"The beating didn't kill her like the first victim," Reid asked. Garcia shook her head.
"Apparently not. The ME said that the injuries sustained by the beating would have been life-threatening, but the victim didn't lose enough blood to kill her. Now, the sheriff department did not connect the two cases or give either case very much attention due to the nature of the victims and the fact that they were found during the highest points of golf/tourist season. This changed with the third victim, one Miss Tanya Jones." Garcia once again clicked her remoted, bringing up the image of another young black woman. She had green eyes and her black hair was pulled up in a tight bun. A second image of the woman appeared, showing her lying bloody in white sand.
"Tanya was in town for a series of meetings between her pharmaceutical company and a new drug company back in October. She was staying in a high-end hotel in Pinehurst, the Holly Inn, and disappeared two days into her weeklong series of meetings. She was last seen by a colleague She was found three days later, on October 10th. Weird, right? Just like the other two victims, she was beaten bloody and dumped on the final sand bunker of Hole Two on Course Three. Just like Taquisha, the ME said that she didn't lose enough blood to die from her beating. This was when someone in the sheriff department put together the dots, specifically the correlation in dates, and realized that there was a serial killer on the loose. Unfortunately, the department found no forensics to help identify any suspects." Aaron looked up at the group sitting around the circular table.
"Were there any indications of sexual trauma on any of the victims," Rossi asked Garcia. At a shake from the redhead, Rossi looked over at Hotch. "The prolonged period between kills indicates that the unsub is in control of his urges, though the shortening time frame also indicates that he's devolving." Morgan took over from there.
"Even the shortened time frames demonstrates a sense of control. He's killed his first victim, then waited exactly three months to kill again. His third victim was then, to the day, killed two months later." Potter jumped in there.
"So it stands to reason that his next victim will be on the tenth of November. And since today is the seventh of November, this unsub is hunting for his next victim right now."
"Agreed. This is a time-sensitive case, so wheels up in thirty. Agent Potter, Agent Granger, do you two know where the airfield that we take off from is located?" Potter nodded affirmatively. "Good. Let's go, people."
The group of profilers stood and filed out of the room. Aaron had a bad feeling about how this case would turn out. Hopefully the additional experience of Granger and Potter would help the team catch this killer faster than normal instead of slowing down the regular team dynamic.
AN: Harry and Hermione have now met the team! Next time, the case really begins and there should be some more police procedural action coming. This is my first time writing a police procedural, so forgive me if I make some mistakes. I'll hopefully have another chapter within a couple weeks (I do have everything planned out, so it should go fairly quick) but I'm also doing job hunting at the same time so that could kick into high gear at any time. Ta for now!