A/N: Glad people are enjoying this little ficlet. Thanks for being so patient while waiting for Abbs. If you are wondering - this is the only NCIS tie, the rest of the gang does not make an appearance. And I feel quite safe in telling you this as the entire fic is written - for once. :-) BTW, in case any of the loyal readers are wondering, Les Dowich and I will be at LeakyCon 2011 this summer so if you are going, please feel free to say hello! And, as before, I claim ownership of nothing except Brian.
Saturday, September 16th, 2006 – Heathrow Airport, London
Deplaning at Heathrow, Abby Sciuto made her way to the customs area with the rest of her fellow international travellers. She felt a bit naked without her umbrella and regular daily hardware, but this was post 9-11 and Gibbs, her boss, had made it clear that none of that would make it through the inspections, so it was all packed away in her sealed luggage.
Her regular makeup and clothing choice, however, ensured that she got her requisite number of curious looks. Not that she cared; she had her own sense of style and it worked. For her.
She slowly wended her way through the line, hoisting her backpack onto the table and handing over her passport to the agent on duty. His eyes glanced at her once; his only reaction - a slightly raised eyebrow, which she responded to with a bright cheerful smile.
"And how long will you be visiting, Miss Sciuto?" he enquired, his accent endearing him to her immediately.
"Two weeks. I'm visiting family," she happily supplied, accepting back her now stamped passport.
"Welcome to Great Britain, then," he said, indicating she could continue on to baggage claim.
"Thank you!" She grabbed her bag and passed through the gate heading to the general area where she was to meet her Aunt and young cousin.
Scanning the surrounding crowds of people, her gaze settled on a head of wavy, dark brown hair that was accented with streaks of grey.
"Aunt Andi!" she cried and bustled over to the older woman, getting engulfed in the loving arms of her aunt. "And who is this bright boy?" she asked, pulling back and ruffling the short purple do on the head of a child who was looking at her visible tattoos with wide eyes. "I don't think we've met since you've gotten so big. The last time, you were a little baby in your Grandma's arms. Hi, I'm your cousin, Abby." She held out her hand to him as if he was an adult.
He took it with a huge grin on his face and shook it heartily. "I'm Teddy... Teddy Lupin!"
"Well, Teddy... Teddy Lupin, I think we are going to get along great! How old are you now? Seven?" she guessed as she let her aunt lead the way to baggage claim.
"I'm eight!" he said proudly. "And the tallest and oldest of the cousins!"
"Of course you are!" Abby agreed with a grin. Exchanging traditional enquiries about the health and well being of various family members, the trio made their way over to the rumbling carrels and watched as the luggage tumbled down onto the conveyer belt. Abby stood at the ready, spotting her bag right away – the skull and crossbones on it making it a unique and easy piece to distinguish amongst the brown and black look-a-likes.
"Gotcha!" she cried, snagging the suitcase by the handle and hoisting it over the lip onto the floor. She turned it upright and released the handle, giving her aunt the look that said, 'Shall we?'
The older woman led the way to a private alcove, out of the way of prying eyes and taking her grandson's hand and one of Abby's, began to turn on the spot. A porter, hearing a popping sound from the area, looked around the corner – but saw no one.
0000
"Whoa, big guy – don't fall over there!" Abby cried out as they landed in the backyard of her Aunt's house. Teddy just laughed as he picked himself up off the ground.
"Uncle Harry can't land either!" he yelled as he ran into the house, whooping and hollering.
"Uncle Harry?" Abby asked then remembered. "Oh, yes, his godfather – the one that Voldemort was after... Harry Potter?"
Her aunt nodded her head as they followed him into the kitchen area. "Teddy spends nearly every weekend with him and his family. If I wasn't so attached to this old place, I'd probably just move us in with them. But, I can't leave. Your uncle is everywhere in here." She looked around at the comfortable furnishings, an easy chair in one corner taking on the look of a shrine – just waiting for its master to return with an old pair of comfortable leather slippers sitting next to it, and pipe and tobacco on the table next to it with a book of old Muggle matches. Abby went over and picked up the pipe, breathing in the scent of her Uncle Teddy's favourite blend of tobacco: Longbottom Leaf. The sweet aroma still hung around the bowl.
"I miss him..." she said in a husky voice. "Him and Dora, both."
"I know, darling," her aunt said, giving the Goth a slight squeeze around the shoulders. "Come on, I'm putting you in Dora's old room. Teddy has his own across the hall. I don't know why you didn't take an international Portkey; I could have arranged one for you easily. I just don't trust these – planes; especially after those Death-Eater wannabees a few years ago."
"And I don't like Portkeys, Aunty. It was fine; I'm fine. See, I made it here in one piece." She demonstrated, turning a small pirouette in the centre of the room.
"And what a fine piece it is, at that!" came a strong male voice from the kitchen area. Abby peeked around the corner and discovered a tall, freckled red head was just closing the back door. Her grin lit up her face as she shoved her suitcase into the open door of her bedroom and she ran down the hall to give the man a giant bear-hug.
"George! It's so good to see you! Did you get my latest analysis?"
George let his booming laughter fill the tiny kitchen. "Of course, and Ron and I tweaked the formula just like you said we should. Works perfect now. So how long did Gibbs let you loose this time?"
"Two weeks. And I intend to relax. Too much has happened in the last couple of years – I need to unwind. Although with the boys running my lab..." She let the threat dangle in mid-air as George accepted a steaming cup of tea from his hostess.
"Thanks, Andi. I'm here on special assignment from my sister: you are all invited over to Grimmauld Place for dinner this evening. The whole gang will be there. Ginny thinks tonight is the night, so we are going to hold a countdown party. It's a bit of a tradition since Teddy was born."
"Countdown for what?" Abby asked, her gaze bouncing between each of the adult faces.
"Potter scion number two," George answered, holding up two fingers. "She is overdue by two weeks, and her complaints are legendary. She has poor Harry and Kreacher bouncing at her every whim; she learned well from mum!" He began laughing. "I could tell you tales..." but was stopped by a head slap from Andromeda which caused Abby to start giggling.
"You keep those stories to yourself, mister. No wagging tongues about your mother here. Don't forget, Teddy is home!"
"Sorry, Andi," George apologised, but under cover of taking a sip while the matron's back was turned he whispered to Abby, "I'll tell you later."
She giggled silently, eyes crinkling in controlled mirth and nodded her agreement. Her aunt could give her boss a lesson or two in Head Slapping 101. Or perhaps they could teach a dual course at the Auror College.
"So, can I tell her you'll come?" he asked in a regular tone.
"Of course. Does she need anything?" Andi asked, joining the two at the table.
"Nah, just her belly to pop. This one is really stretching her to her limit. And of course she's trying to keep up with James, as well and Kreacher is too old to wrangle a toddler. Harry offered to take his leave early, but she wouldn't hear of it. Said if mum could do it, so could she." He shook his head ruefully as he sipped more of the milky brew. "We're all walking on eggshells around her right now. I'm really hoping Potter part deux comes tonight – we could use the relief."
Abby slapped his shoulder. "George! That's your sister!"
"Ouch!" he rubbed his shoulder. "Merlin, Abbs, you've got a mean left hook there. Look, you go over there tonight and you'll see if you don't believe me. So, Abbs," George asked, changing the subject in mid-stream. "Seeing anyone?" He waggled his eyebrows luridly at her and she cracked up. She'd known George for many years now, meeting the twins just as they were putting together their secret plans for a joke shop. George had developed a crush on the American Muggle and had been angling to date her for years, but she didn't see him that way and never would. To her, he was a dear friend – and she insisted on keeping it that way.
"No one I'm going to tell you about, Weasley. Besides, I had this creepy guy stalking me for awhile – and, well – it just put me off of dating for the time being," she explained. Andromeda turned a concerned face in her direction, and Abby hastened to reassure her. "Don't worry about it, he was caught – and so was the real stalker. I'm fine, Andi, really!" Teddy came in, his hair now black, sporting silver streaks. "Hey, my man, come and sit next to me," she said, patting the seat next to her. "Tell me about yourself; who's your favourite Quidditch team?" she asked, and the little boy's face lit up as he animatedly launched into his favourite time-consuming hobby.
Saturday, September 16th, 2006 – Hogwarts Castle, Scotland
Brian walked up the long sloping carriageway that led from the main road out of Hogsmeade up the low hill to the presiding castle that dominated the landscape. He'd been hearing tales about this place ever since he'd landed in England and, even at his own school, there had been legends bandied about. About halfway up he spied a white marble mausoleum through the trees that stood sentinel over the lake, autumn colours creating a beautiful backdrop for the simple white monument. He knew that it contained the body of Dumbledore, one of the greatest wizards in modern times – certainly one of the most famous.
Beyond the little clearing that held the tomb, a simple circular hut sat amidst a garden ablaze with colour. A very tall man - dressed in simple homespun and wielding, of all things, a pink umbrella that he poked his humongous pumpkins with – was puttering around in the garden, an ancient boarhound lounging in the sun nearby, white hairs covering his entire muzzle.
He spied Brian coming up the walk and called out to him. "Mornin'! Yeh look like yeh could use a cuppa! Yeh must be Brian – all the way from Ameriky; 'Arry flooed me about yeh; said teh keep an eye out for yeh," he explained as Brian cut across the field to meet the man.
Brian wasn't a slouch in the height department; he easily stood a foot above his own boss and was quite proud of his 6'6" stature. But Hagrid had to be the tallest man he'd ever met; he made him feel like he was back in Middle-School! Brian had to crane his neck to look up into the man's face.
Hagrid chuckled at the look on Brian's face. "I'm 'alf-giant, don't yeh know?"
Well that explained it! "You think Harry could've warned me!" he complained as he followed the man into the interior of the hut.
"I've known 'Arry since 'ee was a wee baby. Prob'ly didn' think nothing' of it," Hagrid explained, chuckling under his bushy beard. He set out cups and saucers, preparing a proper English tea for this American Auror.
"We don't have giants in the US, at least not full-blooded ones. We've had a few who've managed to have film careers..."
Hagrid beamed as he poured the tea. "Ah, that would be me cousin, Andre, from the continent. I 'eard 'ee had quite the career."
"Mm, managed to catch several of his films myself, although my favourite was "Princess Bride"."
Hagrid proudly showed off his hut to this new visitor, pointing out various oddities and ingredients that he'd picked up among his sojourns in the forest. They sipped companionably on the tea while Fang leaned against Brian, begging for the rock cakes which Brian gladly slipped him, having nearly chipped a tooth on the one he'd tried to taste. "So, did Harry tell you why I was here?" he asked after they'd finished the tea and Brian had delighted his host by telling the large man about his distant cousin.
"Nope, jes said you need to talk to the ghosts. Nick is roundin' them up for yeh."
"Great, I should be heading up then. Thanks for the refreshment, Hagrid. It was a pleasure meeting you, and you too, Fang!" He bent down to give the boar hound a rub between the ears, which Fang ate up like the sybaritic creature he was. Brian had gained a friend for life, especially when he slipped the beast another one of his master's baked goods. Brian stood up and let his hand be engulfed in the hearty handshake that he was subjected to by Hagrid that nearly ripped his arm off in its enthusiasm.
Waving goodbye, he continued on up the path to the castle, admiring the stone circle that lay at the top of the hill and enjoying the view from the covered walkway that led him to the main courtyard. He could have stood there forever, gazing out at the scenery – but he had a meeting to attend. He truly hoped this 'Nick' could round up the ghosts as Hagrid had said. He was met there by a severe looking woman in black and green plaid, old-fashioned witches hat jauntily tilted on her greying head.
"Lieutenant Brian Boswell, I presume?" she asked as he approached. She held out her hand in greeting. "I'm Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts. Harry says you are here to interview the ghosts?"
"Yes, specifically the Gray Lady and the Bloody Baron. Was Nick able to find them and persuade them to talk to me?" he asked, falling into step with her as she led him through the huge oak and iron doors. "Whoa..." he stopped, flabbergasted at the sight that met him as his eyes grew accustomed to the dimmer light inside.
McGonagall paused in her walking and looked back at him, an amused expression on her face. "Yes, it does that to new visitors nearly every time. Welcome to Hogwarts, Lieutenant Boswell." She watched as he turned in place taking in the seven story central shaft, the shifting stairwells, the talking portraits that were eyeing him with great interest, gossiping back and forth between frames, and the overall majesty of the castle.
"Consider me suitably impressed," he said after letting out a low whistle. He shook himself back to the present and let his gaze finally drop sheepishly back on the headmistress. "Sorry, Harry didn't warn me... seems to be my refrain for the day."
"Understandable; Hogwarts tends to defy description. If you'll follow me, I'll lead you to a sitting room where Sir Nicholas will meet with you." He didn't miss the stress on the honorific for the ghost and started to flashback again to his formative years and his father's strict insistence on manners. "I'm unsure as to which of the ghosts he has persuaded to attend. Auror Potter didn't give me much background..." she intimated, climbing the long flight of stairs that led to the second floor gallery.
"We came across some documents in an estate sale that indicated a murder had occurred and as there is no statute of limitations, we were obligated to investigate. It wasn't until we read through them that it was discovered it was nearly a millennium-old murder/suicide that had taken place. Auror Potter decided that it would be prudent to close the case and get all the facts together in one place. He said that the Grey Lady and the Bloody Baron were involved and that he was the only one who currently had that knowledge. So, here I am – hoping that they will tell us ... 'The Rest of the Story'." He said the last in an imitation of a famous radio personality from the States. The characterisation was lost on McGonagall, and he ended up being the only one smiling at his own joke while she only raised an eyebrow in his direction.
"Here we are," she said, giving him an odd look as she opened the door to a small, but well-appointed, lounge. A small cheery fire was ablaze in the fireplace, warming up the air in the chamber. Walking through the halls he'd discovered that the Scottish winter was quickly approaching and he welcomed the warmth the fire gave off.
A tea service for two was set off to one side and there were two ghostly figures drifting around the room. A be-ruffled Tudor courtier approached him with a smile while the other one stayed on the opposite side of the room, studiously ignoring the living.
"Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington, at your service," he declared, bowing graciously as he introduced himself. "As Harry Potter has requested, I have brought the lady. I regret to say that the Baron refused to attend."
"I understand, Sir Nicholas, thank you for your aid," Brian said, giving the shade a bow in return. "Professor, would you care to join me?" he asked the headmistress as Nicholas left by phasing through the wall. "There appear to be two settings."
"I'd love to, but I do have a class to teach." A distant ringing bell, indicating a class change, lent credence to her claim as distant doors slammed open and rushing footsteps filled the ringing hallways outside the door. "Please take as much time as you need and if you are in need of any further refreshment or supplies, just call out for a House-elf and they will appear. Good luck," she whispered conspiratorially to him, eyeing the wraith as she spoke.
"Thanks," he whispered back. Despite her schoolmarm looks, she had a direct approach he liked, and an underlying dry sense of humour so common to the British that he thoroughly appreciated. He waited until she was out of the room, firmly closing the door behind her before he approached the sitting area and poured himself a cup of tea that he quickly transfigured into coffee, liberally dosing it with the cream that stood nearby.
He sat in the chair and brought out the copies of the journal. The ghost drifted closer, curious in spite of herself, to lean in and get a look.
"That looks familiar," whispered the lady. "It has been a long time since I've seen it, though."
"It belonged to a clerk," prompted Brian.
Her eyes brightened up in remembrance. "Aye, Llewellyn – a bright enough lad. He was in the Baron's retinue. One of Rowena's favourites; originally promised for the Monastery at Llancarvan; Rowena discovered him one day bouncing after falling from an apple tree." Brian nodded as he recognised the feat of spontaneous magic. "She promised his parents his education would be just as complete in Hogwarts as in the Monastery and that his gift would be honed to do the Lord's work. Of course, being married to Slytherin, she didn't specify which Lord she was talking about." The girl smiled at her own little jest and Brian caught himself grinning as well.
"So, Rowena was married to Salazar Slytherin... I take it that Helga was then married to Gryffindor?" Brian asked, trying to get a lay of the land. He'd read the famous book that seemed to be required reading whenever you entered wizarding society in Great Britain, "Hogwarts, a History"; but there was precious little information concerning the founders and their time period despite their importance to the castle and British Wizarding society as a whole. Thus, he was nearly bowled over when the ghost confirmed his question.
"The Baron's parents? Aye, they were wedded," she stated as a matter of course.
"His parents? Then he was..."
"Grystin Gryffindor, Baron of Gryffin Hollow," she spat, looking away with a sniff. "I believe it is now called Godric's Hollow – after his father."
After sputtering into his coffee for a moment, Brian regained his composure and made a note on his pad of paper.
"Is there a problem, Mr Boswell?" the ghost asked, genuinely concerned.
"No... no problem. It appears his identity has been lost over time, is all," he explained. "Auror Potter explained to me a short version of your deaths, but it would be beneficial to hear the entire story and why you both ended up haunting the castle. Didn't your deaths occur elsewhere?"
"Albania," Helena supplied. "I was... travelling."
Brian raised an eyebrow. Travelling did not jive with the information his boss had imparted to him, and he said as much.
"I was not..." she sighed, a chilling sound in the warm chamber, and sat down primly on the divan across from Brian. "Fine, I was running away. If you spoke to that young man, you know I stole my mother's coronet – called the diadem in recent times." Brian nodded to encourage her tale.
"I took it for various reasons: to spite her, to gain wisdom for myself, many selfish and childish reasons that mean nothing now, but were overwhelming at the time." She gazed down at the clasped hands in her lap. "I was seventeen, you see. Freshly completed with my apprenticeship and always eager to learn more. I was too full of myself and what I saw as my potential, than to listen to wiser mouths." Her hands clenched in remembered frustration before she looked up at the living wizard.
"I've had many centuries to regret my actions. I soon discovered that only mother knew how to access the wisdom of the crystals," she confessed.
"What were in the crystals?" Brian prompted.
She glanced at Brian before continuing. "I suppose I can tell you, it's been destroyed... Mother had managed to fit all the knowledge in her books into the crystal matrices of the gemstones. And each set of gemstones were attuned to the knowledge gained from each founder of the school. As far as I know this has never been duplicated. Many have tried, none have succeeded," she stated, a touch of pride at her mother's singular accomplishment in her voice.
Amazed at the feat of magic this represented, Brian asked the obvious next question. "Why?"
She looked at him, honestly astounded for a second and her answer made him feel once again like a schoolboy whose hands had been slapped by the teacher. What was it with this place? "You try carrying around those huge spell books from that era – there are several in the restricted section of the library here, you can try it for yourself!" she scoffed.
"Of course," he muttered, making another note on his pad to cover his embarrassment. "So only your mother had access?"
"Yes, the other founders knew what it was, but they weren't interested in using it – it was just one of mother's special objects, something they saw as only benefiting her. But I coveted it and its knowledge; I hoped it would have answers for me – give me the means to be independent. I thought to set myself up as a court sorceress and, with the knowledge of the coronet, use it to advise great kings all over the world – I would command greatness..." Her ghostly eyes sparked with remembered dreams of grandeur.
"Creating a powerbase for yourself," he said, bringing her back to the present. "So, when that plan fell through, why not return to Scotland?"
"I was ashamed... I kept thinking it would eventually work for me. I was her daughter, after all, I had helped choose what knowledge would be stored; I should be able to gain access to it." Her voice still carried a hint of the anger she had felt a millennia ago when she had first discovered that the coronet was nothing but a pretty piece of jewellery for her.
"How long were you gone?" Brian asked after giving her a moment to herself.
"Long enough," she said bitterly. "Mother became ill, so she sent Grystin after me." A baleful look came over her countenance and she refused to say anything else, frustrating the lieutenant.
He tried a different tact. "I was expecting to speak to the Baron as well, why isn't he here?"
"I haven't spoken to him since he killed me – do you think I would speak to him now? Go find him yourself!" She flounced out of the room, gliding right through him and, behind him, the wall – causing him to shiver uncontrollably with the sudden icy feeling that moved through his body. Harry was right – skelping was not a pleasant feeling.
"Well, that went well..." Brian quipped to the silent room.