Disclaimer: Still don't own NCIS or Harry Potter.

Harry led Dudley into the living room and poured him a drink. "What happened?"

"He attacked me first, but I- I was scared, I didn't know what to do!"

"Start at the beginning," Harry said, as he poured Dudley a glass of water and handed it to him.

Dudley sipped the water cautiously. "I was leaving the office, heading to the parking garage."

"Wait," said Harry. "The office?" It was then that he noticed how nicely dressed Dudley was. It was very Uncle Vernon.

"Yeah. After dad retired, I took over at Grunnings."

Harry chuckled. His cousin. A respectable businessman. Yeah, right. But then again, maybe it was understandable, considering how Dudley behaved during Harry's last two summers at Privet Drive. Maybe the dementor attack sobered Dudley up a bit.

"Anyway, I was in the parking garage, and I saw this guy coming at me, and he spooked me a bit you know. I guess I have dad's gift of detecting no good people ahead of time."

Harry cleared his throat.

"Oh," said Dudley. "Yeah, sorry."

"Forget it. What happened?"

"Well, I was almost to the car, I thought I'd just get out of there quick, but all the sudden, he's right next to me and he's got a gun."

Harry blinked. Wizards don't use guns. What was Dudley playing at?

"Acting on instinct, I punched him in the face. The gun went off, but missed me, and the bloke fell. I heard his head hit the concrete and I thought he was dead, or at least knocked out. But he's up in an instant, and his head is bleeding a lot, but he dropped the gun. He had this savage look in his eyes, and I didn't know what else to do- I grabbed the gun and I shot him."

Harry nodded, but still didn't understand. "What makes you think he was a wizard?"

"Well, he was perfectly alright with getting thrown to the group."

"Wizards still feel pain, Dudley," Harry said. "And they don't use guns." He thought it over. Yes, it was suspicious that the man who attacked Dudley had managed to get right back up, but Harry didn't know a magical way to not feel pain. Then he remembered. People under the influence of the Imperius Curse can't feel a thing. They have to do what they're told to do under the Imperius Curse until the caster dies or lifts the spell, and pain can't be a distraction. "It might be possible he was under the Imperius Curse," said Harry. "That way he could do as he was told without feeling anything."

Dudley finished his water and set the glass down. "He was told to kill me?"

"Possibly," said Harry. "But the only reason I can think of wizards wanting to hurt you is to get to me, so it's a good thing you're here. This house has a lot of protection."

"Is there any other reason you can think someone would want to hurt you? Anyone holding a grudge?"

Dudley thought for a moment. "Some Americans. We made a deal with some American hardware store chain. Started trading our drills. It was really good for the company. Got myself a new car thanks to that deal. Then came the lawsuit. Our drills didn't work as well in America because of the difference of voltage in standard American outlets, or something like that. There was a big fuss about it, but our lawyer said it was the hardware chain's fault for buying something to sell in America that wouldn't work on American soil, and so we won that one, but the CEO of that chain was really pissed."

Harry nodded. "I see." He stood up and crossed the room to grab his wand and his Invisibility Cloak. "Stay here. Make yourself at home. I'll be back soon as I can."

Dudley watched Harry leave the house, cross over the protective boundaries and disappear under his cloak.

Harry Apparated outside the parking garage. He didn't Apparate directly into the parking garage as the sound would echo and alert the Muggle policemen. Harry followed the police lights and came to the crime scene. He saw the man lying dead in a pool of blood and noted the policemen snapping crime photos and scouring the scene for evidence. "Alright, Charlie," said the policeman who looked to be in charge. "What have we got?"

"One shot to the chest, sir. Lots of bleeding and trauma to the head."

"Who is he?"

"American," said Charlie. Harry tensed. Maybe it did have something to do with this business deal gone bad. "His name is Greg Jackson. There's a badge. He's an American spook."

"What agency?"

"Naval Criminal Investigative Service, sir."