Disclaimer: We neither own Harry Potter or Star Wars. We write this as our dreams and ideas needed somewhere to go other than our lonely heads.
***SECTION INSERT - OCT. 2016*** (Found at the end of chapter)
***Updated Feb.6 2017***
Author's Note: Hey y'all! Thanks for checking out our story! Few things for you today.
-We have updated the blog on our website with some information from this chapter. Check us out and let us know what you think. Again, you can find us at siblingsgrimm .weebly .com (remove spaces)
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And don't worry, Star Wars is on its way, you just have to be patient. (Evil grin... diabolical laughter...)
"Captain Johnson come in. This is Lieutenant Halverson over."
Captain Johnson reached over the piles of reports and evidence documentation on his desk and grabbed his radio, and pushed the push-to-talk button.
"Go ahead Lieutenant Halverson, this is Captain Johnson, over." He said releasing the button.
"Captain, the Syndicate Drug bust has made a turn for the worst. We currently have them held up in a multistory building, but I am afraid this may quickly turn into a full-on firefight. If we are going to take them down, I am going to need some backup."
Captain Johnson's eyebrows shot up as he heard the Lieutenant's report, his hand automatically rubbing his already lined forehead.
"Halverson, this morning in the briefing you said that this warehouse was supposed to have relatively few perps. Besides the shipment, they were expecting, what happened?"
His radio crackled and beeped as the Lieutenant's voice came back through.
"Captain, I'm not exactly sure, when we turned up and stormed the building there were far more men here than we expected. We didn't have the officers to safely take the building and were forced back onto the street. We think the syndicate was having talks with another gang."
Johnson thumbed the button. "Roger that Halverson. We can't afford to let this spill out into the surrounding area, especially at this hour. What do you need?"
"They have the ground level locked down pretty tight. If we are going to get in there with minimal casualties then we are definitely going need a SWAT team, two would be preferable."
"Ten four Lieutenant. Keep those lowlifes where they are, our SWAT team will be on the road in a matter of minutes. I will also radio over to District twelve and see if Captain Hiller can send his SWAT team your way."
Halverson's voice came back quickly. "Roger that Captain, I will keep you posted on the situation."
After contacting dispatch and ordering the SWAT team to Lieutenant Halverson's position, and asking Captain Hiller for his team, Captain Johnson set his radio on his desk and ran his hand through his hair, what was left of it anyway. He was getting too old for this job.
The Texas Syndicate, a Texas and California Prison gang, had been a pain in Johnson's rear end for quite a long time. The Drug trade and business weren't anything new. Any sizable gang in the Houston area sold and dealt drugs. The real problem with the Syndicate was their penchant for violence. They were always packing, and their firearms were always of a higher caliber. Worst of all, they were never afraid light you up.
A few days ago it had come to their attention that the Syndicate was expecting an unusually large shipment of drugs. Due to some contacts, they had been able to discover the location of the warehouse where they were to be expecting the delivery.
And due to the aforementioned tendency toward violence, Captain Johnson had assigned nearly three-quarters of that shifts officers to the bust, tasking Lieutenant Halverson with command. Leaving only a few officers to patrol the remainder of their district.
Johnson sighed once again, knowing all of the paperwork that was going to accompany this bust once it was all said and done.
He was getting too old for this job.
Captain David Johnson had worked as a police officer for most of his life. At the age of forty-eight he felt like he was he was quickly nearing the time when he would retire. After nearly twenty-three years of service as an officer, he was definitely one of the older men on the force.
The majority of officers he knew served for around twenty years before retiring, maybe picking up a part time job afterward just to help things around the house. Unless of course they were moved up into the better paying, and therefore less physically active ranks. Captain Johnson had never really fancied himself an office man. After he had graduated from high school and tried his hand at college, he had quickly realized that book work was not for him. And thus it was that he had found himself applying for the police academy, kind of just hoping that it would work out.
That thoughtless application had led to the next twenty-four years of his life. Little did he know at the time that he had just found his life's passion, in more ways than one.
Not only had Johnson fallen in love with being a police officer, but in his first posting in a small town in northern Texas, he had become quite smitten with the gorgeous dispatch officer who would one day become his wife.
They settled down in Dayton and had several children, two in High School and one still in Middle School. And besides his passion for his career, his family had grown to become the single most important thing in his life.
After moving to Dayton he had applied to the Police Department there but had been turned down as they currently had no open positions at the time. Fortunately, he had then been able to secure a job as an officer in the Houston Police Department, and he had served here ever since.
He had enjoyed the first twenty years of his career. He felt like he was making a difference in the world, helping to make the world a better place. But in the last few years, his enthusiasm had waned. Not for any loss of love for the job, rather, from the impending desk jobs that were hanging over his head.
Johnson was a capable officer. He was quick, a good shot had a great heart, and most important of all, he was a good judge of character. And over the last few years, he had been approached no less than five times about being promoted to higher ranks and positions in the Department. But he had resisted, dreading the hours he would have to spend behind a desk while younger officers were out there risking their lives.
Eventually, at the urging of his lovely wife, he had acquiesced and had been promoted to Captain. Along with several other Captains, he was co-responsible for Huston PD's tenth District, a small area just south and east of downtown Houston. The job wasn't too bad, he still got to go out on occasion, but when he came back the paperwork was always there.
He knew that he probably didn't have much longer on the force. The Chief, a good friend of Johnson's from back in the academy days, was concerned at Johnson's persistence in being out in the field, and had been bugging him for the last month or so to accept a position as one of the Vice-Chiefs. A position that would doom him to a life of endless reports, so Johnson just couldn't bring himself to do it.
He knew if he accepted the position his action days would be over, but on the other hand, he knew that he couldn't keep up with the younger officers for much longer. He was getting old. Maybe it was time for him to retire and take a different job, he had always found construction to be rather interesting.
After checking in with Lieutenant Halverson to assure that the bust was going well, he checked his clock. Just a few minutes till eleven. Just a few hours more and his friend Captain Ravesten would be taking over and he would be able to go home for a well-deserved rest.
Johnson picked up a pile of papers, reports on a recent homicide investigation, and began to flip through the papers when his radio blared back to life.
"Captain Johnson this is dispatch. We have an urgent situation at the Women's Hospital down on Old Spanish trail. A nurse called in reporting a bombing. The fire department and paramedics are already on their way."
Captain Johnson leaped to his feet, swearing to himself.
"Roger that dispatch, do we have any officers in the area?" Hoping against hope that with the majority of their officers at the firefight on the east side of town that someone would be patrolling in the area.
"Negative Captain, Officer Jones is at least ten minutes away with Officer Crowley not too far behind him. Though Officers Clement and Burns just reported in."
"Contact Clement and Burns and tell them to hop in a patrol car and get down there now. Tell them that I will be just a few minutes behind them."
Then thinking quickly he pressed the button again. "Also contact the Bomb squad at HQ, I don't care if they are sleeping at home, get them up and get them down to the Hospital."
By this time Johnson was out of his office and running down the hall, barely pausing to fling the door of the armory open before heading to his locker and gear. With the skill that only comes from decades of experience, he quickly donned his kevlar vest and other equipment before he turned on his heel and ran out the door, heading toward the parking lot.
Johnson had made it out of the parking lot and onto the road in a matter of minutes, and he could still hear the siren of the other officer's car ahead of him.
Hauling down the roads, he traveled as fast as he dared, speeding past the other cars as they barely managed to pull out of the way in time.
Within a few minutes, he had the hospital in his sights and swerved into the drop-off area in front of the hospital before peeling to a stop. His car barely had barely stopped before he was out the door running low toward the front of the building, officers Burns, and Clement standing on either side of the entrance as people ran out of the hospital doors.
The red and blue lights from their cars lit the area as Johnson neared his officers.
"Clement, what is the situation?" His tone abrupt and serious as his mind was now focused on the situation before him.
One of them held a rifle, the other a shotgun, having time to grab their heavier weapons before Johnson had arrived.
Officer Clement gestured toward a clearly nerve-stricken woman who was being comforted by a few firefighters before he began to speak.
"That nurse over there was in an operation room on the fourth floor when the bomb went off. Apparently, the bombers rushed into the operation room right after the explosion looking rather dazed. We assume the bombs must have misfired, not quite going off as expected and catching the two bombers unawares."
He paused a moment to point toward the upper floors before continuing.
"Just a few minutes ago hospital security was sent to the fourth floor where they encountered the perpetrators attempting to flee and have been chasing them through the building."
"How about descriptions, were you able to get anything from the nurse?"
The officer nodded and also gestured to his radio.
"Yes sir, we just got a confirmation from the guards in pursuit. We are looking at two young adult males, one skinny, one rather heavy set."
Johnson quickly filed the information and nodded.
"Roger that Clement, good work. The Bomb Squad is on their way and dispatch is sending what it can our way. You mentioned two bombers, have any other perpetrators been spotted?"
Burns replied this time. "Negative Captain."
"Okay then. We can't let these two escape before the bomb squad arrives. We can't risk another bomb going off in such a populated area. Clement, I want you on my left, Burns on my right."
And as the officers formed up around him they entered the building, guns at the ready, posture slightly crouched, attention on full alert.
The lobby was brightly lit with small chandlers, making the white furniture bright in comparison to the dark of the night outside. The main sitting area was a half circle, a waist-high stone wall dividing it from the heads of the hallways that went further into the hospital. The waiting area was further divided in half by a wide walkway that went down the center, heading toward the main desk ahead of them.
The officers proceeded cautiously into the well-lit area, listening carefully for any signs of the two bombers. Johnson tilted his head slightly towards Burns, whispering quietly.
"You hear anything? My hearing isn't what it used to be."
Burns cocked his head, listening, before gesturing towards the head of the hallway on their right.
"I hear running, its faint, though."
Johnson nodded and gestured that they were to head down the walkway until they were clear of the low wall before they headed towards the hallway beyond it.
They moved as a well-coordinated unit, each of them having years of experience, knowing exactly where and how to move.
But before they could clear the low stone wall, the sound of pounding feet grew louder, and then suddenly stopped. Johnson, hearing the sudden change, raised his left hand, signaling that they should stop. They listened closely, raising their guns if something sudden were to happen.
Then, with a loud crash a door at the end of the hallway opened up and two forms burst out of it, running full tilt before they suddenly spotted Johnson and his men, and came to a scrambling stop.
Johnson instantly aimed his gun towards the two perps and took a moment to observe them.
The one on the left was lanky and thin, with wild black hair and wire-framed glasses. He was breathing heavily, clearly just having run a long distance. But he was not what Johnson was expecting, this was a boy, not a young adult, not a hardened criminal who would set off explosives in the middle of a woman's hospital.
Glancing at the other he saw that he too was no older than sixteen. But while the other had been lanky and thin, this one was heavy and plump, chest heaving in deep breaths, face flushed with exertion.
Johnson spoke, being sure to say each word clearly and concisely, but not wanting to send the two young men into a panic.
"Hold it right there"
His eyes focused on the leaner one, noticing the boy's eyes as they darted around the room, looking for an alley of escape.
"Both of you put your hands in the air, and slowly get down on your knees."
But as the boy's eyes continued to move about he spoke again, wanting the young man to get the message.
"If you do so much as make a step in the wrong direction, we will be forced to fire. Now please, get down on your knees, and put your hands behind your head."
The lanky boy began to slowly raise his hands above his head, his eyes now fixed steadily on Johnson.
'Good kid now keeps it nice and easy.' Johnson thought to himself. In his long years in the department he had been forced to deal with more teenage crime then he could ever want, and there was nothing worse than having to shoot a kid because they did something stupid.
Suddenly, the fatter kid besides the first dove for the safety of the corridor, its angled hallway giving him cover. Johnson and the officers, surprised as they were, did not hesitate to shoot at the fat one. But whether they hit him or not he couldn't tell as the kid was hidden behind the corridor.
Quickly switching his attention back towards the lanky one, he saw the kid dive behind the stone wall before he could get a shot off. Though that didn't keep him and the officers from firing into the low wall, hoping that it was just for appearances. No such luck.
He fired the occasional round into the wall, hoping to keep the boy down while he signaled for Clement to bank left so they could catch the kid in a crossfire.
As Clement slowly made off towards his left, Johnson kept his gunned trained just above the wall, ready in case the kid decided to pop up.
But suddenly, the kid rolled out from behind the wall into the walkway that split the room, quickly jumping to his feet. His face was contorted with anger as he swung his hand and what appeared to be a long stick in their direction.
Johnson managed to get a round off as the kid was jumping to his feet but misjudged the kid's width as the bullet flew harmlessly past his torso. And the young man screamed with a voice of fury.
"STOP!"
Then, the weirdest thing began to happen.
Now, as a professional lawman and experience officer, Johnson prided himself on his steel nerves. Countless firefights had taught him to focus on the goal, not on the raging fear in his chest.
And it was with this in perspective, that Captain Johnson found himself paralyzed with fear. All of his experience, all of his training, out the window. The icy feeling growing in his chest as the room seemed to grow dark. His knees suddenly collapsed underneath him as he heard the screams of his wife and newborn child, his mind flashing back to that moment when he almost lost his small family in childbirth.
The light of the room slowly disappeared, chased away by this night from hell.
The cold was physical now, his body locked as he stared at the young man before him, darkness seeming to emanate from his scrawny form.
And then… he was gone.
"So… that's the whole story? The whole thing, you're not lying to me right?"
Captain Johnson glanced up, his eyes now fixed on the sharp features of the man in front of him.
After the incident with the demon child, Johnson had come to staring at the ceiling of the lobby, paramedics checking him over. He had been given a blanket, which was now wrapped around his shoulders, and a warm drink was clutched between his hands. He was told that he was currently in shock.
He sat there for a few minutes. Officers, paramedics, and firemen swarming the now cramped space. He noticed the individuals in bomb protection equipment that kept entering the building.
Johnson had then been taken aside by the man that was now standing before him, an Agent Richard Jones of the FBI. The man was tall, had sharp features, and short brown hair parted on the side. He was kind in his questions, giving him plenty of time to answer, but he was firm as well, demanding full attention to detail. Johnson could tell that he took his job very seriously.
Letting out a sigh he responded.
"Yes Agent Jones, I told you everything that happened tonight. I may not be proud of it, but that is the whole story. I know it sounds crazy, and the Paramedics tell me I'm experiencing shock, but I swear to you that is the truth."
The agent looked directly into his eyes for just a few moments before giving a short nod.
"I appreciate your cooperation Captain. With everything that has gone on tonight, I appreciate your honesty and frankness."
Ruffling through some papers in the notebook he had been taking notes with, the agent withdrew a single paper and handed it to him.
"I'll need you to look this over and sign it if you will."
Johnson took the paper and glanced down at the form, quickly scanning it.
0000000000000
Obliviation Consent and/or Proof of Occurrence
MACUSA - Magical Bureau of Investigation
Form 387
No-Mag Law Enforcement
0000000000000
Johnson's brow furrowed in confusion, not sure what exactly to make of the form, and shifted his gaze from the ridiculous paper to the Agent.
"What kind of…."
He jerked backward as he saw a long stick and a flash of white light.
And Captain Johnson knew no more.
Harry Potter finished reading the last article of the morning paper and closed the pages, being careful to put them in their proper place. He then folded the paper and placed it on the table before him.
There was nothing quite like a morning paper to start your day off right. Granted, Harry couldn't always get ahold of a paper when he was with his Aunt and Uncle, and when it came to the Daily Prophet you could never be sure what crazy load of witches brew was hiding in those pages. But most of the time, aside from those odd exceptions, reading the paper was something he enjoyed.
This morning's paper, well, actually it was yesterday's morning paper, had been quite enjoyable. The main story had featured an account of a dying Millionaire who had decided to donate his fortune to a local children's hospital. The first part of the article had given a stunning summary of the man's life and his many accomplishments. And the second part of the article had then been topped off with a tear-jerking story of a young child with a rare disease whose parents could not afford treatment, who would now be able to be treated due to this generous man's donation.
He had also read several articles about local politics and upcoming elections (promising to be sure), and about a fire that had been subdued without any loss of life. And with the weather section forecasting sunny skies and warm summer days, the paper had been quite nice indeed.
Well, all besides one small factor. But with all this good news and pleasant talk, it wouldn't really be worth mentioning it. After all, it was such a small affair. Just a trifle really. What kind of Scrooge would he be to ruin such good with such an inconsequential tidbit?
Okay, he didn't want to lie to himself. It was bothering him. Though it really shouldn't, it did have the promise to be such a great day after all. He shouldn't let it bother him so. Harry was sure that it was just a type error, something that the editor of such a fine paper should have surely caught.
A simple date error, just fifteen years in the past…
Fifteen years in the past… He chuckled to himself, sure that it was just a silly mistake. After all, the alternative was ridiculous. No one had ever traveled fifteen years into the past.
His eyes flicked back to the date on the paper in front of him.
June 23rd, 1980
Fifteen years…
Fifteen years…
All of a sudden Harry's metal charade of happiness and normalcy fell like a house of cards.
Fifteen years…
He had time traveled fifteen YEARS into the past, FIFTEEN of them!
That had never, ever, ever, ever, EVER, happened before.
When one is newly acquainted with the magical world there are a few things that one quickly learns.
First, saying "Abra Kadabra" is a BIG no no.
Second, pulling bunnies out of hats isn't a real thing.
Third, NEVER try to bring anyone back to life.
And fourth, extended time travel is IMPOSSIBLE.
And as amazing as Dumbledore is, there is NO WAY that he could make a time turner that would take him back fifteen years into the past.
There is just no way.
Taking a deep breath, Harry ran a hand through his hair, taking a moment to calm down.
A cough broke him from his moment of silence. Harry jerked his head up, looking behind him.
When he had woken up, he had found himself slumped onto a cool metal table, a small pile of drool collecting on its cool surface. Rousing himself, he found his hands in handcuffs locked to the table. Besides him was the paper from yesterday.
He wasn't able to reach into his pocket to check for his wand, but he couldn't see it, or feel its familiar presence.
In front of the table was a long mirror that ran along the wall, presumably a two-way mirror, which ended at a door in the corner of the room. He had been distracted by the paper and had not checked if anyone else had been in the room behind him.
Raising from a stool that sat in the corner, a rather broad, bald man rose to his feet. He wore dark blue robes over clothes which must have been fashionable in the wizarding 80's. As he slowly walked around Harry towards the right end of the table, Harry noticed a golden emblem fashioned in the form of some sort of bird inlaid on the left breast of his robes.
Reaching the side of the table the man leaned forward on his hands and fixed Harry straight in the eye, his face stone cold and imposing.
"So… You think it's funny to play around with the No-Mags kid? Like to see the terror on their face when they think you're going to kill them and blow their families to bits?"
The man's voice was quiet, but loud in its intensity. Harry found it hard to look away from the man's piercing eyes.
"Nearly one hundred and twenty people were forced to flee from a dedicated women's and children's hospital. Twenty-one of which were harmed in the mass panic as people fled the building. Three accidents caused by fleeing visitors severely injured another nine people. Several long-term patients went into shock and were nearly lost before the staff was able to stabilize them. And a young husband and newborn baby nearly lost their mother all because you thought it would be funny to pull a harmless little prank."
The man paused, clearly gathering himself and attempting to reign in his formidable anger.
"If a SINGLE ONE of those people would have died I would have personally locked you away in the Wilds* for the REST OF YOUR MISERABLE LIFE!"
Harry sat stock still, eyes wide open nervous as he leaned away from the raging man, not having expected such a raging tirade.
"Smith, I think that is enough now."
The bald man jerked his gaze away from Harry towards the door in the corner of the room. The door was open, and a tall brown haired man with pointed features stood in the door, wearing the same dark blue robes the first man was wearing.
"Smith, you're scaring the young man. Why don't you take a seat for a minute."
The bald man, Smith, spluttered indignantly. "Scared? I would hope so! The selfish little brat deserves no better!"
The tall man rolled his eyes and walked the rest of the way into the room, closing the door behind him. He walked up to the desk, pulled out a chair, and sat down in front of Harry. He placed a folder down in front of him before glancing and Smith and gesturing toward the chair on the man's left.
Smith scowled but remained standing at the side of the table, his arms crossed.
Harry was still reeling from the whole situation and Smith's explosive diatribe when the man on the left spoke again, this time directing his remarks towards Harry.
"I must apologize for my partner here, he comes from a No-Maj family and doesn't take to kindly towards the type of behavior that you exhibited yesterday. Though you should know, what you and your friend did yesterday was very serious."
Smith looked angrily at the tall man. "Jones that is none of this perps blasted business!"
Jones sighed, looking away from his flustered partner.
"As my partner mentioned, my name is Agent Jones, MBI. What's your name kid?"
Harry paused for a moment, taking a few second to orient himself with this rather odd situation he had found himself in. A No-Maj? What in Merlin's name is a No-Maj? Must be what the yank wizards call muggles.
"Harry, Harry Potter." Mentally Harry slapped himself, berating himself for giving these agents his actual name. He didn't know what kind of crazy things could happen from things you said fifteen years in the past.
"Potter huh? I'm not familiar with any Potters… Smith, you know and Potters?"
Jones glanced at his partner. "No" The bald man ground out. Clearly still ticked off at Harry.
Jones nodded and looked back to Harry.
"Harry, we noticed when we arrested you last night that you didn't have your wand permit on you. Any reason for that?
"Uhh…" Harry's mind repeated the question. Wand permit? Since when did someone need a permit for a wand? Maybe it's a Yank thing?
"I uh, left it at home." Came out his half-hearted lie. He wouldn't have believed it himself.
Jones quirked and eyebrow.
"You do know that it is a congressional law to carry your wand permit at all times, right? I know Illvermony hasn't slipped that much since I was a kid."
"No, I know, I just forgot it at home. Didn't mean anything by it of course."
It was Smith's turn this time. Again his voice came out in a growl, like some kind of Man-Bear: "Left it at home huh? Doesn't sound quite right to me. More like you left it at home in case you got caught, hoping we wouldn't root you out to your parents. What kind of fake name is Harry Potter anyways? Not the smartest kid are you?"
Inwardly Harry palmed his forehead. Literally, the one time he had given his real name in a situation like this and they thought it was a fake. Now, this was a new experience.
"I swear, the whole thing at the hospital was an accident. And Harry Potter is my real name."
Jones cut in before Smith could take a bite at Harry's comment.
"Alright, Harry. As you surely know, what happened last night was a serious breach of the International Statute of Secrecy, and that is not commenting on all of the other moral and legal lines you broke."
His face grew serious and grim and he continued. "As overeager as Smith may be at times, he wasn't lying to you earlier. What you did last night was wrong, and you will be lucky if you get to keep your wand and return to Illvermony come August, very lucky."
"So Harry, this is what we are going to do. You are going to give us your parents floo address so we can call them into the department. They are probably worried sick about you. And then us four are going to sit down with you and have a nice long chat about what happened last night and why you did it. Understand?"
He could see that Jones wasn't messing around. Out of the two, Harry would much rather talk with Jones, but it was clear that whatever happened, he was in some serious trouble. But he couldn't let them knew that he had traveled fifteen years into the past! For all, he knew they would lock him up for breaking some crazy wizarding anti-time travel law he knew nothing about!
He decided that he might be best off if he tried to flow with it. After all, It had worked for him before.
"Yes sir, I understand. Just one problem, my parents and I just moved into the area sir, our house hasn't yet been connected to the floo network."
Jones paused, taking a moment to regard Harry.
"I see… well, that shouldn't be a problem, right? Just give us their names and we will have an owl off to them in no time."
Mentally Harry was calling himself an idiot. When had he become such a bad liar? He scrambled for a few seconds, desperately thinking of an excuse that would make sense in the given situation. What did he know about fifteen years ago? He had been born this year, the war with Voldemort had just started, wait, Voldemort….
Harry slumped his shoulders, hoping to look defeated.
"Well… well…" He let out a long breath and hung his head.
"My parents aren't actually here. They are still in England, they sent me here hoping I could avoid the war with Voldemort."
There was silence for a few moments, the Dark Lord's name hanging in the empty space between them.
Jones looked at him, Harry completely unaware of what the agent was thinking.
"Okay, so you're a refugee? Why didn't you just say so?"
Harry stuttered out a lame excuse about being embarrassed.
Agent Smith put his hands back on the table and leaned toward Harry.
"So why don't you tell us what you were doing in a hospital setting off explosions? And while we are on the topic, what kind of spell did you use to make the officers think you were some sort of demon child? A refugee is starting to sound an awful like terrorist to me."
Harry's stomach dropped in his stomach. Thinking quickly he made one last shot at it.
"It was an accident! I didn't mean for any of that to happen! I was just with my cousin, he was visiting some family in the hospital (technically not a complete lie). I have had some bad experiences with hospitals in the past and I just sort of lost control!"
Once again silence filled the room as Harry waited for their response. He glanced at Jones, hoping to see understanding in his eyes, only to find… disappointment?
Jones sighed.
"Look, Harry, you look like a good enough kid. But I came in here trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, and all you have given me is lies."
Jones nodded at Smith, and Smith reached into his robes and pulled out a small shiny object suspended on a long golden chain.
No… The world dropped from beneath Harry. How had he not realized that the time turner was missing when he woke up?
Smith, still leaning forward, spoke up. "Why don't we cut the Zuffalo* dung and get to the point. Strange isn't it that not a part of your story mentioned this? Or the reason why you would flee from the scene of the crime if you were visiting 'relatives'."
He leaned in closer, making sure to make eye contact.
"We already talked to your whale of a cousin. Poor kid blabbed the whole story while crying a bucket of tears. Why don't you tell us the whole story? The TRUTH this time!"
Harry's mouth fell open as he stared at them in complete shock. Did they know? Had they known the whole time? He had been played! His shoulders slumped and he looked down, knowing he had been beaten.
"Where do you want me to start?" His voice came out tired, weary from the past day.
Agent jones leaned back and took out a notebook and quill. "Why don't you start from the beginning?"
So, still reeling in shock, and completely overwhelmed from the happenings of the last twenty-four hours, Harry told them the truth.
Starting from his dreadful morning on the Privett drive in the year 1995, all the way through to his run from the constables. He told them everything.
Agents Jones and Smith were remarkably quiet for the whole tale, only quirking an eyebrow here and there when he crossed some of the weirder sections. After he was completely finished he waited, dreading the accusations of lies or the imprisonment for breaking random magical 'don't do this' law number 259 subsection B. But surprisingly, none of that happened.
After a few heavy second hung in the air, Agent Smith broke out into a rather unexpected grin and leaned back, letting out a rather unbecoming chuckle.
"Now that's a tale young man! Much better than that load of witches brew you gave us a few minutes ago."
Completely thrown off by this now completely unorthodox and unexpected day, Harry paused.
"So… does that mean you believe me?" Hearing the doubt in his own voice.
"Believe you? I don't know about that… but what you said definitely falls in place with all of the facts we have so far. It also explains why you were so shocked by that newspaper there." Agent smith gestured to the newspaper on the table.
"Though, I should tell you that your cousin didn't actually blab. Just kept muttering about magic and time travel. We sent him down to the Medi-witch for a case of severe magical shock. Oh, and next time that you want to pull off being a citizen of another country... you might want to cover up your accent."
Harry's jaw dropped open.
He was such an idiot! Why hadn't he thought of that?
"Don't look so surprised kid," Agent Jones offered, "You don't work a job in law enforcement this long without learning how to read teenagers."
"So what happens now?" Harry ventured, worried about his possible fate.
"Well" Agent Smith started, "What you said about time travel, and this here time-turner correspond with the large amounts of temporal energy that were found by the mop up squad. So, we definitely know that you believe that is what happened. But you don't work around magic for a dozen or so years without getting a might cautious when it comes to this sort of thing."
"Smith is right. We are more than likely going to have you and your cousin looked over by an Enigmian"
"A what?" Harry's mind already filling with images of some sort of horrid American monster.
Jones looked up from the notebook in his hand. "Oh, that's right. Forgot you Brits call them unspeakable, those that work with the unknown areas of magic?"
"Oh…" Harry still wasn't exactly sure what they were talking about, but he was too tired to do anything about it.
Agent Smith reached across and unlocked Harry's handcuffs.
"Alright kid, let's get you to a place where you can wash up and get a few hours of shut-eye. It's been a long night for all of us."
After the interrogation, they took him to a locker room where he was able to shower and change into some pajamas they had provided. Shortly afterward, he was led to a small room with two beds and an adjoining loo. His cousin was already passed out on the bed on the left, a window showing the night cityscape.
As they walked into the room agent Jones spoke up.
"This is where you will be staying the night. We have a few rooms like this that we usually use for officers that are on call during the Night shift. Now, why don't you get some sleep and we will be back in the morning. If you need anything Agent Jorgensen will be just outside the door."
Harry thanked the agent and watched as the man left. He knew the agent outside wasn't just there in case they needed something. They were being watched. They were still prisoners. At least it was better than a jail cell. He walked over the side of his bed and sat down on the somewhat thin mattress. He took a moment to watch his cousin, lying silently on his bed.
Before he hopped into bed, he went to the bathroom, hoping to find a toothbrush he could use. It only took a minute before he found a disposable toothbrush of some kind, and began to brush his teeth.
Thinking about everything they had gone through that day, he wondered what he would have felt like if he had been exposed to the magical world the same way Dudley had been, he probably would be passed out too. That or hyperventilating in a corner.
Even in comparison to the other adventures that had taken place throughout the years, these past 24 hours had been something else. And this time, there were no teachers or friends to pull him out of trouble when he needed them. He was alone. And stranded in a time before he had even been born. He didn't even know if his parents had decided on a name for him yet.
True, Dumbledore was still alive, the man being over a hundred years old. But he didn't think that contacting him would be a good idea. He really didn't know how contacting him could affect the future, he didn't know if he wanted to risk it.
Honestly, as odd as ironic as it was, he just wished that he was back at the Dursley's house.
Finished with his teeth, and done wasting time on what ifs, Harry left the bathroom, intending to get some much-needed rest.
But when Harry came back into the room, he found Dudley sitting quietly on the side of his bed, his head in his hands. Not sure what exactly to do, never having comforted his cousin before, Harry walked awkwardly to Dudley's side and sat down next to his larger cousin.
After a few moments, he awkwardly put his hand on his cousin's shoulder and spoke.
"Look, Dudley, I am really sorry about what's happened. I didn't mean to drag you into any of this."
Harry opened his mouth, preparing to continue comforting his cousin. But suddenly, all he could sense was a meaty fist crashing into his face. Harry was thrown sideways, falling off the bed and onto the floor.
After the fog a shock dissipated, Harry was left lying on the floor with his jaw hanging open, and a nice welt starting to form on his face. For the second time in less than 24 hours, Dudley had knocked him on his ass.
"That is for bringing me back to the bloody day I was born!" Dudley's face was red, clearly still ticked off. Harry lay there for a moment trying to process what had just happened, before standing up and then sitting down on the bed across from his Cousin.
After a minute of two, Dudley spoke again, this time in a less aggravated tone.
"Sorry… I'm just trying to sort out what happened yesterday." He looked Harry in the eyes.
"What did happened yesterday? What were those cloaked things? And how in the bloody hell did we end up in the hospital room where I was born?!"
Harry nodded slowly, Dudley had a right to ask those questions. He took a deep breath and let out a sigh. But then paused for a second, he thought muggles couldn't see Dementors…
"Wait, you saw them? The Dementors?" Harry asked.
Dudley looked at him. "Dementos? Are those the things that attacked us? What are they?"
Harry sighed before he responded. "Well, Dementors are sort of like monsters, but instead of eating people… the sort of suck out your soul."
Dudley's face was filled with horror at Harry. "They… they were going to suck out my soul?"
"Uh, yeah. It's sort of what Dementors do."
"Well, what in the bloody hell were they doing in Surry?"
Harry reached up and scratched his head, trying to think of how to properly explain it.
"Dudley, do remember how my parents were killed?"
Dudley nodded. "Yea, by some sort of terrorist bloke, right?"
"Yes… His name is Voldemort. You can kind of think of him as a wizarding version of Hitler, though that is not quite right."
"So this Voldemort bloke was a pretty big deal then, but he is gone now, right?"
"He was…" Harry paused, giving Dudley a serious look. "But he is back. He is the one who sent the Dementors after me."
His cousin's eyes bulged, and his face started to take back the red hue. "If he was back, the same bloke that killed your parents, how could you have come back for the summer?! You bloody selfish git! You could have gone and had me and my parents killed!" As Dudley stared at Harry he could see his hands tighten into fists, probably preparing to slug him in the face.
Then he spat out with a venom Harry didn't know that Dudley had.
"For all I know, my parents are dead!"
Harry put his hands up trying to calm his cousin down, and trying to prevent his face from being beaten into a bloody pulp.
"Dudley, the house is safe, it's protected. There is a magical barrier there to keep them safe, I promise, Vernon and Petunia are going to be just fine."
He waited, hoping Dudley wouldn't re-acquaint his fist with Harry's face. As much as he had teased Dudley yesterday for being a pansy and a wimp, he knew that Dudley could punch hard.
Harry watched Dudley closely, preparing himself if he had to dive out of the way. But Dudley held back. And after a few tense minutes, his hands slowly relaxed and his face smoothed out as fury left him.
When he was more composed, he spoke. "Fine. But I swear on my life that if I find out they were harmed because of you… there will be hell to pay."
He looked directly into Harry's eyes, making sure that he got the message.
As Dudley stared intently into his eyes, he maintained a calm expression, but inside, he was just a little bit freaked out. He knew that Dudley would be 'tough' when he wanted to be, but this was something else. He had NEVER expected this kind of reaction from his cousin.
Pee his pants? Sure. Hyperventilate? Probably. Squeal like a pig? Most definitely. But swear on his life that he would have revenge? This was new…
Harry nodded, signaling that he understood.
Finally, Dudley spoke again. "So what happened to us? If we were protected as you said, shouldn't we have been safe?" There was clearly an edge to his voice, telling Harry that he wasn't in the clear yet.
Harry thought for a second, thinking of how to explain it.
"The protection… You know those Star Trek shows you like to watch? It's like a shield surrounding the house, but it only goes so far. We were past the protected area."
"Okay. So what exactly was it that attacked us? And how did that get us back in the 1980's?"
Harry nodded and began explaining what had happened. What Dementors were, why he thought they were there, and possibly how they had sent them back in time. He took his time explaining everything, making sure that Dudley understood. Dudley wasn't fooling around with the 'freak' business anymore. He wanted to know.
After Harry had finished explaining, it was like Dudley deflated in front of him. All of the tension, aggression, and frustration left him like air out of a balloon. And Dudley was left looking tired and completely spent, weary from a long, long day.
He looked at Harry, exhaustion clearly written in his features.
"Harry… Are we ever going to get back home?" And then as his head slowly drifted down, he spoke in almost a whisper. "Am I ever going to see my family again?"
With those words, Harry felt his heart ache. Sure, the kid was an arrogant prick and sometimes Harry wished he was dead, but he had never seen his cousin like this. He had never seen him as an actual person with feelings, just as his cursed tormentor. He realized in that moment that somehow, he cared for his cousin. He was family.
Harry reached out and grabbed Dudley's shoulder. And looked him dead in the eyes.
"Dudley, I swear that I will do everything in my power to bring us back home. I swear it."
With those words, Dudley nodded. His eyes damp with unshed tears.
"We have had a long day Dudley, why don't you get some rest?"
As Harry's cousin drifted off to sleep, Harry watched him for a few moments, wondering just what he had gotten himself into.
He wasn't sure how long he slept, but by the time sunlight was streaming through the window he was wide-awake and feeling mostly rested. After taking a moment to rub his eyes, he looked around the room and found a pair of clothes that had been laid on the end of the bed. Taking the clothes, Harry went into the bathroom to change and get ready for the crazy day he was sure that was about to happen.
It wasn't long before Agent Jones came for them, and spirited them off to a small cafeteria down the hall from where they had stayed the night. The kitchen was run by an aging house elf, Boo, who took no time at all to have Harry and Dudley seated before heaping piles of steaming food.
Agent Jones sat across from them, perusing a small stack of papers as the starving boys filled their stomachs.
"So Harry, should I ask how you got that nice shiner?"
Confused, Harry looked at the Agent with a bewildered glance, his mouth otherwise occupied trying desperately to follow in Ron's footsteps.
"You know, shiner… black eye?"
Harry swallowed, "Oh…" He wasn't sure exactly what to say, he glanced at Dudley only to see his larger cousin shrug his shoulders.
He glanced back to the Agent "Well… Dudley and I sort of came to an understanding last night."
Smith cocked his eyebrow. "Are fistfights how understandings are made in England these days?"
"Err... no?" The Agent laughed, glancing between the two young men with a smirk on his face.
"You two good?" They both nodded, hoping not to draw more attention.
"Good, I can't have my two top suspects killing each other off now can I?"
Harry responded hesitantly. "Eh, no sir…"
Smith looked up from his papers. "Relax Harry, I'm just trying to keep you on your toes."
Dudley coughed a bit as he swallowed a large mouthful of food.
Harry spoke up again. "Agent Jones, I know you're some kind of Auror or something, but what are you exactly?"
The agent nodded. "Well, in England, your Aurors are kind of like a specialty police officer. They focus mainly in fighting and catching dark wizards. Whereas your hit-wizards are more like old-fashioned officers. Here, our law enforcement is broken up a bit differently."
Here he coughed for a second clearing his throat and finished his glass of water.
"The Magical Bureau of Investigation, or MBI for short, has a bit of a broader field than what the Aurors of Britain do. We likewise pursue and detain dangerous dark wizards, however, we are also responsible for investigating matters of national security and ensuring the absolute adherence to the Statute of Secrecy and Rapport's Law."
He then eyed the two boys. "And that is why you are with me. Regardless how it happened, you two are in serious, and I mean a serious violation of the Statute."
Harry opened his mouth to begin defending himself, but Agent Jones cut him off.
"No, you don't need to go on the defensive there Harry. I just wanted the two of you to understand the seriousness of this situation. If it wasn't for your peculiar circumstances, we wouldn't be sitting here having this pleasant conversation over breakfast."
"Agent Smith Sir?"
"Go ahead, Dudley"
"What is going to happen to us? Are we going to be put on some sort of trial?"
The Agent smiled at the large but clearly nervous boy.
"No, probably not something of that large a scale at the moment. Due to the possible nature of what happened to you both yesterday. If your claim continues to check out, you will more than likely be placed under some sort of living arrangement until the Enigmians figure out what they are going to do with you."
Dudley nodded as he followed the officer's words. "So, what is going to happen to us today?"
Agent Jones picked up the papers he was reading and placed them in a folder.
"Well, as soon as you both have eaten your fill, we are going to take you somewhere where we can find out if you really are what you claim to be." He finished the sentence with a knowing glance.
"Due to the confidential nature of all of this, I can't say more at the moment. However, we will be going to the Office of Higher Inquiry, somewhere where they can take a closer look at the both of you".
After finishing packing the folder and a few other things into a briefcase, Agent Jones stood up and looked at the boys.
"If you're all finished up why don't we head out?"
Agent Jones lead Harry and Dudley down the corridor and down a few flights of stairs before they arrived in a small lobby area. Men and women in blue robes like Agent Jones were bustling about the place, some heading up and down different staircases and lifts, others flashing in and out of a few fireplaces.
"Agent Jones, where are we exactly? Is this the State's Ministry of Magic?"
Jones was scanning the crowd, clearly looking for someone.
"No Harry, this is one of the Bureau's regional offices. Like the No-Maj America, there are fifty congressional states. But they are broken up into ten districts, and there is a regional office in each one…"
Agent Jones faded off as he caught someone's eye and waved someone over.
Before he knew it, Agent Smith was standing next to them with a big hand on his and Dudley's shoulder. The Agent's rather jovial grin was still rather disconcerting when compared to the fury that he had shown Harry yesterday.
"Ah, there you two are! You two ready to see the freakazoids?"
Dudley shot a nervous glance at Jones, the scared look on his usually 'intimidating' cousin giving Harry a small laugh. Dudley clearly wasn't too sure or confident about being involved in the magical world. Hearing a wizard refer to another as a freak probably didn't calm his nerves either.
Jones spoke up. "Don't listen to Smith Dudley, he's just one for the dramatic."
Agent Jones and Smith led them to the row of fireplaces on the other side of the room.
"Alright, lads, we are going to be taking the floo to the Congressional Building, and from there to the Office of Higher Inquiry."
Smith turned to Harry's cousin. "Now Dudley, I know you have little experience with magical travel, so here is what we are going to do. This here fireplace has been connected to what is called the floo network. You can kind of imagine that it's a phone plugged into the telephone network."
Here the Agent grabbed a pot off the rim of the fireplace and tilted it, showing the content to Dudley.
"This is floo powder. We simply toss it onto the flames, say the name of the place we are going and step right through after the flames have turned a nice shade of green. Make sense?"
Dudley's face showed everything besides comprehension.
"We… we are going to step into the fire?"
At that Smith nodded, keeping his large grin plastered on his face.
"That's it, not too complicated right?" As Dudley's expression showed no sign of improving, he turned to Harry and Jones.
"Alright, here is what we are going to do. Jones, go ahead and take Harry through, we will watch so Dudley here can get the right idea." Then he turned back to Dudley and gave the unusually large boy a confidant slap on the back.
"No need to worry! Just imagine that it's like some kind of teleportation of one of those television shows. You know what I mean?"
And as Dudley nodded, though slightly hesitant, Smith gestured for Jones and Harry to continue. Then giving Dudley a rather concerned look, due to the young man's now pale expression, he looked him in the eyes.
"Since this is your first time, let me give you a piece of advice. When we step through together, just go ahead and keep your eyes closed. And then when we take the step through, just take a nice long stride. Imagine that you're walking straight through instead of stepping into it. Think you can do that for me?"
Dudley nodded. They turned their attention to Agent Jones and Harry just in time to see Jones place his hand firmly on Harry's back, toss some green powder into the flames, and say clearly: "Congressional Lobby." And then Harry and Jones were gone.
Smith stepped up to the mantle of the fireplace, gently but firmly bringing Dudley with him. And after turning to Dudley he asked: "Ready?"
Dudley nodded and closed his eyes as tight as he could, his pale face screwed tight in apprehension.
Then, in a flash of green flames and quick step forward, they were gone.
***NEW SCENE***
Silri sat crossed legged in her darkened room aboard the Merciless, the flagship of the Consortium. Since she had brutally killed the posturing Imperial Governor on Dathomir, her life had not gone as intended.
As promised by Tyber Zann, she had been given access to a great variety of resources. Namely, a vast library of histories and documents which had great promise of assisting her effort in access the secrets of the Sith Holocron.
Her experiences with a Holocron on Dathomir had been a great boon to her growth in strength, and development of power. With the secrets that she had learned, she eventually became her clan's champion, a manifestation of the spirit's might.
The ancient art of Wild Power, as used by her clan for centuries, was full of power and knowledge. But when she had found the Holocron in an ancient Sith academy, her eyes had been opened to the vast diversities of power that the Force offered. She had become stronger by learning from both paths of knowledge. But she knew she had only scratched the surface. There was far more for her to learn, and Silri craved that power.
She had learned what true power was, and for this reason, she sought it. Unlike the backstabbing fool Tyber who sought solely for material wealth.
Her relationship with Tyber and Urai had grown tense during the passing months. Namely due to her lack of success with the Holocron. Neither party liked the other, and the hostility was growing with time. Tyber's threats against her clan and people only compounded the issue.
The anger inside of her grew as her lack of success fueled the fires of her hate. There was great knowledge there, but she could not access it.
Once again, Silri reached forward and lightly placed her fingers once again on the side of the glowing Holocron, allowing the energies of the Fanged God to flow through her before bringing her hands to her lap.
The ruby light of the Holocron grew as cloaked figure flickered to life above the small pyramid.
"You have come before me again."
The figures voice was deep and carried with it echoes of unknown power.
"Some would admire your persistence when so far you have achieved nothing. Others would see it as foolishness."
The Guardian of the Holocron paused as if considering his own statement.
"How do you view your behavior child?"
His calm and superior voice grated upon Silri's patience. Over the past months, she had approached the Guardian countless times. And each time she walked away with nothing. Her temper flared to life as she answered the silent hologram.
"You filthy excuse for a Sith Lord! You appear before me, contempt in your eyes, the pride of power long forgotten in this Galaxy. You are dead, and that power with it!"
Her fury, her constant companion, raged inside her soul as she drew greatly on the power of the Fanged God. She thrust her power at the Holocron, attempting to beat the Guardian into submission.
"You stand there to judge me? With what do you judge but the hope to influence a Galaxy long beyond the grasp of your cold dead fingers! Your body has become ash, your followers disbanded, your legacy was all but forgotten! What Sith Lord is there to chase after your secrets? There are none! The last of them sits content on a throne of bureaucratic corruption, no need for your knowledge! So I ask you Sith Lord what do you gain from holding your secrets?"
When no answer came, she answered for him "Nothing…"
She let the silence hang in the air, her meager possessions scattered around the room by a maelstrom of power, evidence of her growing frustration.
"How do I view my behavior? I view it as one who seeks knowledge and power, unlike those who are content with what they have."
Her tirade finished, she watched the holographic Guardian, contempt strewn across her face.
The figure cocked his head, the barest hint of a smile flickering across his face.
"The bounds of your ambition are in no doubt. And the fierceness of your anger reflects that of a warrior. You are not one to sit idly by. But will you wait if you must? Not all is done in present time. You seek power? You shall find it in the stars."
With that statement, the Guardian disappeared and was replaced by a holographic image of the known Galaxy, slowly spinning above the artifact. The voice once again sounded through the artifact as several of the stars grew brighter and information scrawled beside them.
"Among these stars knowledge can be found, power also in your grasp, if with patience you find the path."
With triumphant joy, Silri studied the star chart before her. Many of these systems she knew, while others she didn't. With the complexities of hyperspace travel and astronavigation, it would take her some time to analyze this information, and find what had been hidden by the Sith Lord.
Patience was not her greatest attribute, but if it meant revenge against the empire and power, then she was willing to seek it.
She would have to reveal part of this to Tyber, but definitely not all...
Her time with Tyber Zann was coming to an end.
***END NEW SCENE***