Unfortunately, their return home was going to be delayed if the small army of people waiting for them outside the lifts was any indication.

Beside him, Harry tensed, but G kept himself relaxed, ready for action as he scanned the people before him. He recognized Amelia Bones, of course, and recalled from Nell's briefing packets that the man in the bowler hat was the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge. He didn't recognize the toad-like woman in the bright pink sweater that was all but glued to Fudge's right side. Three aurors completed the group.

"Problem, Lia?" G asked, keeping his tone mild.

"Not with me," she countered. "Minister Fudge and Undersecretary Umbridge, however, are a bit cross."

"Oh?" G asked. "I'm sorry to hear that. I understand the last time London was a bit cross was during the Blitz."

Beside him, Harry choked on a laugh and tried to conceal it with a cough.

"What is the meaning of this?" Fudge demanded, thrusting a sheaf of papers at him.

G could just make out the Daily Prophet logo and beneath it, a headline and subhead:

Boy Who Sues

Potter to Sue Everyone Involved in Triwizard Tournament

G shrugged. "That's pretty much what Harry said during the interview."

Beside him, Harry sounded equally nonchalant. "At least they got it right. They don't always."

Fudge's ruddy complexion got even redder. "How dare you sue the Ministry?"

"How dare you allow an unwilling, underage competitor in a deadly tournament?" G countered. "You didn't protest, you didn't do anything to stop it. You're as culpable as anyone else."

"The minister," Pink Sweater - Umbridge? - began in a saccharine voice that made G want to reach for some insulin even though he wasn't diabetic, "has nothing to do with the Tournament, other than perhaps presenting the trophy to the eventual winner. It's handled through the Department of Magical Games and Sport and the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

"Both of whom report to the Minister for Magic," G countered. "While I grant you that he may not be directly involved in organizing the tournament, he hasn't protested an underage competitor much less offered an apology for the circumstance. Whether that's sufficient for liability to lie is for the courts to decide."

Umbridge smiled. "You can't think the Wizengamot will find the minister guilty?"

G matched her smile. "You can't think we're filing suit in Britain? The International Wizarding Court is the proper venue, given that it's an international competition."

Huh. G hadn't known complexions could go from apoplectic red to ghost white in under three seconds, but two of the people across from him had just proven they could.

He waited, but when neither Fudge nor Umbridge spoke, looked at Amelia. "Anything else, Lia?"

"Not for me," she replied.

"See you at the third task?" G asked.

"Wouldn't miss it."

"Still not the portkey terminal," Harry muttered when he emerged from the floo behind Callen, only to find himself at the Leaky Cauldron.

"Nope," Callen said cheerfully. "We have an appointment with our solicitors."

"Are we going home any time this month, let alone this year?"

Callen laughed. "After a stop at Gringotts and the meeting with the solicitors, we're heading back. I promise. Well, maybe after lunch, too, but that's it. Something wrong?"

"It's just -" Harry shrugged as he followed Callen from the Leaky Cauldron into non-magical London. "I feel like I lied to Hermione about it."

"You did - for a good reason."

"What reason is that?"

"Misdirection. Not much, granted, after that confrontation at the Ministry - but if anyone asks her, she can truthfully tell them you said you were going home early. They wouldn't be looking for you here."

"But the Minister found us anyway," Harry said.

"More like the security guard told him we were there, but yes." Callen didn't seem concerned. "No plan survives first contact, and all that."

Harry shot him a glare as they approached a Tube station. "You're a lot more relaxed than you were before."

"Because now I have an idea what's going on. And how to handle it."

Following G and Harry's return, the whole team congregated at the Dovecote for Sunday brunch. Hetty had reluctantly agreed that her house was the best place for a meeting that did not, strictly speaking, involve NCIS.

G met each of their gazes in turn - Harry. Kensi. Deeks. Eric. Sirius. Nell. Sam. Hetty. They were a solid team, despite the new additions of Harry and Sirius, and had gotten through the first two tasks admirably. Now it was time to plan for the third.

"What have you learned, Mr. Callen?" Hetty asked, her simple question focusing his thoughts.

"Learned? Not as much as I would've liked," G admitted. "But extrapolating from what I did learn, I think Harry's going to be taken during or after the third task."

"Lay it out for us, G," Sam said. "Why?"

"The prophecy Dumbledore told me when we were first bringing Harry to the States is active. Just barely, but it's active."

"So Voldemort isn't dead," Hetty said.

"Assuming that's the dark lord the prophecy refers to, no," G agreed. "But he is mostly dead - just a spirit floating around. He possessed Professor Quirrell while I was at Hogwarts. Harry and I ended up killing Quirrell, but I watched a cloud escape from the body before he died."

"Because that's not horrible," Deeks muttered. "But it's a spirit, right? He can't actually hurt anyone as a spirit, can he?"

"No, but he can possess someone," Kensi said. "Like he did that professor. Right?"

"Yes, but possessions are chancy things," G said.

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Because even if the host is willing," Sirius said, "the spirit is a parasite, and not a benign one. The longer the spirit remains in the host, the weaker the host will become. He'll need extreme measures just to maintain the possession, let alone try to take over Britain again."

"Extreme measures?" Deeks looked disturbed. "Do I want to know?"

"Unicorn blood," Harry said, and G watched him flush as everyone turned to him. "What?"

"Why do you suggest unicorn blood, Harry?" Hetty asked.

"Because, when I was at Hogwarts, I remember hearing Hagrid talk about something in the Forbidden Forest that was killing unicorns," Harry said. "And I learned in Potions last year that unicorn blood can be used in restorative potions, including physical and magical replenishment."

"Unicorn blood would do it," G agreed. "But getting back to the point - which is that if Voldemort's spirit is lingering - not his ghost, but his spirit - he'll need a body. A permanent body."

"How does that get us to Harry being kidnapped during or after the third task?" Kensi asked.

"Because the most common resurrection rituals are enhanced by a human sacrifice," Sirius said, his expression growing horrified. "And Harry is both powerful magically and marked as Voldemort's enemy. Who else would he sacrifice, if he had a choice?"

"But why go to all this trouble?" Deeks asked. "Getting Harry into the tournament, kidnapping him at the end of it, seems, well, too complicated."

"He had to lure Harry to Britain," G said, "because nobody knows exactly where he is. And even if Voldemort - or his supporters - knew where Harry is, they don't have the manpower to take him from us by force."

"What's the plan, G?" Sam asked.

"Harry competes, and the rest of us prepare for him to be taken at any time." Those words caused a sea of frowns and scowls to appear. G didn't like it, but, "There's no other choice. We have the same problem operating over there that Voldemort does over here. But we know it's coming, and forewarned is forearmed. Harry gets taken, and we fix his location with tracking devices and apparate or portkey to him, kick ass and chew bubble gum."

"Who's we in that instance, Callen?" Sirius said.

G grinned. "The four of us, and a squad of goblin warriors."

He'd expected the shocked expressions, Kensi's "Oh," of surprise. He hadn't expected Deeks to literally fall out of his chair.

"Goblin warriors?" Deeks looked up at him from where he sprawled on Hetty's carpet. "How the hell did you manage that?"

"Goblins and Romani have an … interesting relationship," G said. "And after the crap with Harry's guardianship a few years ago, they're more than happy to help him this time."

While the rest of the team digested that, G crossed to where Harry sat beside Nell and sat on the coffee table before them.

"This is going to be hard, Harry," he said. "Because if the prophecy is correct, you'll have to kill Voldemort. Killing's never an easy thing."

G watched Harry swallow as he processed that. Finally, Harry said, "I - I think I've always known that it would be him or me. At least I figured that out after Quirrell. I'll do what I have to do."

Nell put her arms around Harry, holding him as she said, "And we'll be there to help you through it afterward."

The rest of February passed uneventfully, as did March, April, and May. The only thing of note during those few months was that Callen and Nell took Harry to New Orleans as a kind of spring break. They invited Hermione's family to join them, but the Grangers had plans to attend a family wedding instead.

Hermione's absence meant the trip was less fun than it could have been, but Dwayne Pride, Christopher LaSalle, and the rest of the New Orleans Residential Unit of NCIS had gone all out to show Harry both the magical and non-magical sides of their city, and the trip was one of the highlights of Harry's life in the United States so far.

Then it was back to Los Angeles and more training - specifically hand-to-hand combat and pistol training, taught by Sam and Callen.

"You're going against wizards with lots more experience than you," Sam said one afternoon at the NCIS shooting range. They'd commandeered it for half an hour a day so Harry could practice. "Play to your strengths, not theirs."

"Which doesn't mean we're ignoring magic completely," Callen said. "Just shifting focus. We're going to drill you in a few spells, not more than ten, until you can do them in your sleep. Or at least wandlessly or silently."

"Cutting and piercing charms, bludgeoning curse," Sam said. "Explosive curse. Summoning charm. Tripping jinx. Healing charm, maybe. We're still working out the final lineup."

"And … Voldemort?" Harry asked.

"Silencing charm for him, for sure," Sam said seriously. "No need for a villain monologue if we can avoid it."

Harry had to laugh at that, however unwillingly.

Then Callen came forward and rested both hands on Harry's shoulders. "If Sam and I could take care of him for you, we would."

"But the prophecy won't let you." Harry hated how small his voice sounded. He made an effort to strengthen it when he added, "Which means I … have to kill him."

"I wish you didn't," Callen said, and behind Callen, Sam's expression showed the same sentiment. "Killing someone isn't easy, even when you know - you know - deep in your heart, your bones, your soul, that there is no other alternative."

"I -" Harry swallowed. "I don't know if I can. Even knowing that it's Voldemort and he killed my parents and tried to kill me."

Sam came forward. "Nobody knows until the time comes."

"What if I can't?" Harry blinked back tears. Neither Callen nor Sam would think less of him if he cried, but he knew if he started, he might not stop.

"Then we'll think of something else," Callen said, his tone firm and unwavering. "Sam and I may not be able to kill Voldemort, but we can sure as hell contain him."

Harry gave a laugh that was mostly a groan. "How do you contain someone like Voldemort?"

"Portkey him to the top of Mt. Everest," Callen said.

"But you've never been to the top of Everest," Harry said. Then he frowned. "Have you?"

"No," Callen admitted, "but Hetty has. She can make the portkey."

"Or, better, portkey him to the moon," Sam said. "All it would take is a visit to one of the surviving Apollo astronauts and a little legilimency, and you have what you need."

"Both of those," Harry began uncertainly, "sound rather worse than just killing him."

"They are," Callen admitted readily. "But both of them are still more merciful than Voldemort would ever be to anyone else."

"All of which is to say," Sam concluded, "that there are backup plans. Redundant backup plans, even."

Callen snorted. "It's Hetty. Her redundant backup plans have redundant backup plans."

Harry smiled, just a little. "I'm telling her you said that."

Callen grinned back. "Like she wouldn't agree?"