Chapter Four: Roy Montgomery and the (Very Strange) Phone Call
A number of times over the years, Roy Montgomery had gotten calls about cases that his detectives were working from other agencies. It didn't happen too often, but every now and then it did, and he figured that by now he'd been called by pretty much every agency that might have an interest that overlapped with homicide. Which was why he was stumped by getting an early morning call from the NYAO. Firstly, because he'd never heard of any such organization, and secondly because they seemed to know all about the case that Beckett's team was currently working.
He was told a team of their agents would be in that afternoon to have his detectives sign some confidential paperwork and he was to have a private room set aside so the two teams could work together on the investigation. There had been a brief discussion on whether or not they needed to bring in someone from the coroner's office. For the moment, the organization wanted to keep the number of people read in limited Beckett's team, and only grudgingly gave into his argument that as their boss, he needed to be involved as well.
Captain Montgomery did not like being ordered around on his own turf, but calls up the chain just made the whole thing weirder. The police commissioner and the mayor both told him that he was obliged to cooperate with the organization, although neither of them seemed to have any more idea than he did exactly who they were or what they were generally in charge of.
It was no surprise either that Detective Beckett was even less thrilled with the circumstances than he was. She was too professional to pitch a fit, but it was pretty obvious that she wanted to. It probably didn't help that Castle would no doubt be thrilled about the sudden appearance of a mystery agency and begin spinning up even more crazy theories than normal the second she left his office and told the writer about it. It was probably a little wrong of him, but Roy couldn't say he wasn't looking forward to getting a few chuckles at her expense from that.
It was around 11 a.m. when an unfamiliar group of four exited the elevator looking around curiously. He was a little surprised that three of them looked a little on the young side for what was likely a specialist job, but he'd see what they were made of before judging them by it. Most people would never guess how useful it was to have a mystery writer working as a volunteer homicide detective, but Castle had been quite a boon to the team.
He wasn't surprised though when it was the oldest member of the group, and the only one holding a briefcase at that, who spoke when he greeted them. "Rory McAdams, Department Head of the NYAO. This is the team that will be working with your people if we can come to an agreement. I'm afraid you'll all have to sign some pretty binding confidentiality forms before we can even tell you what NYAO stands for, but I assure you, it will greatly improve your chances of closing this investigation."
"You can understand my skepticism while I know nothing about you and your organization, I'm sure."
The man smiled affably enough. "Of course. It is a perfectly understandable reaction and we do tend to deal with it a lot when working with new people. It is true that plenty of experts in a number of fields have eagerly come back to work with us again on later issues after our initial meetings with them, though."
"I suppose we'll just have to see about that for ourselves. This way," He gestured them towards the room that they'd set aside, and gave a beckoning wave to Beckett's team to confirm that this was the group that they had been waiting on.
Castle jumped up and looked as much like an overeager puppy as a man of his age could. The three detectives trailed behind him, a significantly more skeptical attitude dominant in their expressions and bearings. He understood exactly how they felt, but was determined to keep a more neutral mien himself, at least until they got through all this theatrical cloak and dagger claptrap.
McAdams waited outside the door for the group of five from the station to join his three colleagues already in the room before entering and shutting it behind him. He walked towards the head of the table in the room and Montgomery moved aside to lend him the floor. Despite the fact that all of them were generally very observant, all their attention had been drawn to the obvious leader of the group in anticipation. If, perhaps, one of the young men with the group had been waving a wand under the table performing privacy spells, neither Montgomery nor any of his team would have noticed anything.
The older man slid his briefcase onto the table, popping the catches, and pulled out a stack of forms from within, which he passed out to each of the five people from the 12th precinct. "Before we can proceed in any way, there are some confidentiality forms you need to sign. What we are about to reveal to you is very highly classified as secret. The penalties for speaking about it to anyone outside of this room are quite severe." He paused for a moment to look over the listeners in the room before continuing on. "We're here because we are aware of your investigation, and know with certainty that it ties into our area of expertise. If you refuse to sign, we'll simply have to look into the matter without your assistance, but we think that the best chance of bringing this issue to a resolution quickly would come from mutual cooperation between us."
There had been no hesitation from the overeager writer of the team; the man had already been scanning through the sheaf of papers and signing where appropriate before McAdams had finished speaking. The three detectives were exchanging glances, though. He himself was pretty curious as to what it was all about and figured on signing, but wasn't quite sure yet the best way to attempt to get Beckett into it. Letting her shadow try to nag her in that direction first might prove most effective – the man did seem to have a gift for it.
Perhaps he'd underestimated her, though. She just looked to McAdams and asked, "You can help me on this case?" At his nod, she willingly signed the papers, and the rest of the team followed her lead quickly enough. Montgomery did as well. He didn't want to be left out of knowing whatever it was his detectives were getting into.
McAdams collected back all of the stacks of documents from around the table and looked them over before stacking them in his briefcase. "Thank you for your cooperation. At this point, I'm going to turn you over to the leader of the team you'll be working with, and let him explain what you need to know before you get down to details of your case." He gestured to one of the young men that had come in with him, the dark haired one wearing glasses, and said, "This is Harry Potter."
The named young man stood up from his seat and directed a hello around the table. He looked just a bit nervous at first, though a glance at the curly-haired girl with the group seemed to encourage him and he took a deep breath before addressing them in an accent that was surprisingly British. "This is going to be very hard for you to believe, I think, so I'm just going to come out and say it. Magic is real."
His mind only just had time to register the absurdity of the statement before Mr. Potter had pulled a wand, very much like the ones found with the string of victims Beckett was currently investigating, and aimed it at the table. He muttered a word and the whole solid structure rose visibly into the air.
"That is so cool!" Castle gushed from the other end of the table, while the three detectives just gaped. Montgomery felt the same urge towards disbelief, and rubbed at his eyes, blinking furiously, trying to clear the image that he couldn't quite believe he was seeing.
The young man looked up as he floated the table back down to survey the expressions on the faces of the group around him. Apparently, they did not yet look sufficiently convinced, as he picked up one of the discarded pens left on the table in the aftermath of the signing and proceeded to wave his wand at it. Faster than the eye could track, the ballpoint was suddenly a butterfly, wings slowly opening and closing.
"Dude," from Esposito was the only other exclamation from his people, and it sounded just as astonished as he felt. Before anyone else had a chance to comment further, or more likely suggest it was a hoax, or begin to formulate the million questions about how this could possibly be true, Mr. Potter spoke up again.
"The ability to manipulate magic is an inborn talent only present in certain people. Many centuries ago, the decision was made for those people to go into hiding because of the fear their talents caused in the rest of the population. The wizarding world has existed as its own separate state since then. As you've likely realized, wizards use wands like mine – and like the ones found with all three of your victims, so it's safe to say that all of them were wizards."
