The Final Countdown – Unsent Letters
Part Three of "The Final Countdown"
"Okay, first step, to find Ron," Harry said as they all sat in Lance's living room. Jani was sitting on the massive couch, but she had moved her legs across the cushions, blocking anybody else from sitting on the couch. Lance had asked to sit on the couch, but she had given a very cold look and he had retreated to a chair. Harry was perched on the edge of a recliner with a bunch of papers from the file marked "Granger" on the small table in front of him.
"Ron Weasley?" Lance asked. "I've had many a-run in with him. He's a friend of mine." At this, Jani gave Lance a curious look and he shrugged.
"We'll pick Ron up later. He's on some off time right now, I do believe," Harry said. "I took the liberty of checking into his schedule. Until he joins the team, I think we can review the facts of Granger's disappearance. We'd better start from the beginning, if you ask me."
"Where exactly did she disappear from?" Lance asked with his Australian accent, glancing at Jani, who gave him a disgusted look in return.
"Nobody knows exactly. She was reported missing after two months of the actual date by Ron. He'd gotten a note from her the night she disappeared, on a completely black owl, but didn't tell anybody. A month ago marked the two year date of her disappearance," Jani recited readily. When Harry glanced at her, slightly surprised, she grinned and said, "What? You actually thought that if you left me alone all day in a stake-out with nothing to do that I wouldn't get nosy?"
"Understandable," Harry agreed, rolling his eyes. He picked up a Muggle replica of a wide-mouthed bass floundering in foamy white spray and fingered it while he talked. "Granger's job is still unknown, unfortunately…"
"But don't we still have that article?" Jani asked. "That should give us some clue as to what she did." Before Harry could say anything, she snatched the file marked "Granger" out of his reach and flipped through it. "Here, look. I took some time to review it earlier and the distinct impression I got was that this Arnold Benson is a critical part of whatever's going on."
Lance gave Harry an impish grin. "Well, looks like she's got this case more covered that you ever will, Potter," he said in a thick Australian accent. Both Jani and Harry stared. "What? Oh, it's the accent, isn't it? I picked it up a couple of years back at me old Pub in Aussie."
"It never said what sort of scientist Benson was," Jani continued after a short pause. "But whatever he was, it has something definitely to do with Hermione Granger's disappearance. These letters could be a hoax and Granger could be dead, but I've learned to trust my gut and my gut says that she's very much alive and playing games with us."
"This article is from The Daily Prophet?" Lance asked, picking up the article. He scanned it over quickly and stood up. "I'm gonna send this to a friend of mine. Billy Reppart. He's got every issue of The Daily Prophet since 1948. We'll figure out when this was published."
"Date's right here," Jani replied, tapping the article. "May 12th, four years ago."
"Oh, okay," Lance muttered, looking sheepish.
"It's somewhere in the south of England, in a small village. We'll visit tomorrow. But for right now, I'm kind of tired. I think I shall go to bed. I'll be back in the morning," Jani continued. "Good night, Harry, Lance." She Apparated off.
* * *
It started to rain right after Ron and Timmy exploded out of the side of the apartment building, so both got great splats of water splashed over them. Within a moment, the pavement was slick so that it mirrored the streetlights and the blazing fire shooting out of the window from Ron's apartment. Timmy began to cough from the smoke and tears poured down his cheeks. "The angel left," he wheezed between coughing fits. "She left us."
"We'll find her," Ron promised him, picking him up from where he'd been on his hands and knees on the cold street. "Is that all right with you? If we go look for her?"
"You can't find an angel. They find you," Timmy replied firmly. But his eyes, streaked with tears as they were, were hopeful as he looked to Ron. "Think we could?" he asked in a small voice.
"We can try," Ron told him with a confidence that he didn't feel. "We can certainly try." He moved Timmy to a position where they would be comfortable during the Apparation and disappeared so suddenly that when firemen pulled in a split second later, they didn't see him.
* * *
Whatever awakening was, it was slow and as excruciatingly painful as it could be. He was initially jarred out of his sleep by a sudden shaking of his upper body and an agony in his left leg, but the effects of consciousness still took awhile to come around, spurred by groans of agony and spurts of red fluttering in front of his eyes. When he came fully to awareness, pain exploded all over his body.
He screamed from the pain and heard a low laugh coming from his left. Or, at least, he thought it came from his left. In his agony, there was no way to tell. All he knew was that there was a large white blur above him and that the surface below his bare back was cold and metal. His hair clung to his forehead and skull in cold wet clumps of what he could only hope was water, and his feet were bare. Agony cascaded up his entire body in waves of red and sparkling white.
And then, out of nowhere, a voice deprived of emotion, a voice that was colder and harder and darker than a piece of coal. "Victim 23 is awake."
They were words that he would never forget, just words that have no meaning and become useless clutter that will pop up when remembering an ordeal. But they were also words that a meaning…a meaning that he was terrified of…
"Victim 23?" he choked, trying to lift his head. Unfortunately, aside from making his vision swim, this did no good.
"Don't move, 23, you're strapped down. You'll only hurt yourself." Unlike the first voice, this was a kind female voice full of compassion, worry for him. "Keep still. The straps will inflict considerable pain if you struggle."
He was so taken aback by the kindness in the voice that he stopped pulling against the straps binding him to the cold metal and tried to look around to find the source. But the room he was in was bare across the extremely white walls and reflecting metal floor. In fact, the ceiling was just as bleakly white and empty as the rest of the room, save for the fact that it was emanating light over him.
"Don't look for me. You can't see me." He still twisted about, trying to find any source, any source at all, as to where the voice was coming from.
"Victim 23, activity scale higher than 3.52…asserting sleep drug now…"
And everything about him slowly darkened until he found himself in that stage between sleep and death…
* * *
The tapping penetrated Harry's wild dreams as he slept along on Lance's beaten in couch, ramming harshly along the insides of his ears until he was driven to wakefulness. "What?" he spluttered, glancing about and reaching for his wand on the floor beside him, just in case of danger. "Hello?" The tapping continued loudly and Harry spun towards the only large window in the room: the window next to the front door.
"I'm coming, Mum. Just a minute. I have to change my…" came from the partially open door to Lance's bedroom as Harry peered curiously at the window. To his intense surprise, Hermione stared back, her nose red and cheeks blotchy.
"Hermione…?" Harry trailed off, and something inside snapped. With an intensity that he'd never known he possessed, he leapt up and grabbed the doorknob, yanking the door open and reaching out for Hermione. But something stopped his hand as Hermione stared at him, shocked. With a startled thought, Harry raised his hand to his head and threaded his fingers through his hair and stared back, shocked that his secret was out.
It was then that Hermione disappeared completely, not even pausing to give Harry a shocked look as she left. And Harry stood there, as shocked as she had been, his hand still in his hair, wondering about how he could be so careless…
* * *
A/N: Just a short pause. Are we REALLY confused now? Who is Victim 23? Why did Hermione show up on Lance's doorstep and why did she look shocked when she saw Harry's, er, secret? Well, let's continue on with Ron and Timmy…
* * *
"She's not home," Ron said to himself as they knocked for the fourth time on the door of Ginny's apartment. Timmy was peering into the petunias with an air of curiosity, poking at the flowers with his small index finger. "Where could she be?" he mumbled to himself, resisting the urge to pound on the door again. "She didn't mention any trips lately!"
"She could be sitting right behind you, wondering why you're on her front door step," a warm voice said behind him.
Ron turned, a grin plastered over the startled look on his face, and beamed down at his sister. "Thank the wood! You're here!"
"Yes, I am, but why are you?" Ginny asked, looking slightly confused. As a Muggle to Wizard Ambassador (to a very small group called "The Watchers"), she had taken it upon herself to wear khaki pants and a baby-blue top that made the blue in her eyes stand out.
"I'm doing an important mission for…uh…work, and I need you to watch Timmy for an hour…"
"You're going to find Hermione?" Ginny squealed, looking as though she were only sixteen with the excitement radiating across her face. "Finally?"
"Wait a second…how did you know?" Ron peered suspiciously at her.
"Ron, you love the girl. I'm just surprised it took you this long. After all," Ginny replied, grinning broadly, "it's been two years."
"If it's gonna be this obvious, I'm in for some trouble," Ron groaned.
"An angel visited us today, Aunt Ginny," Timmy told. He looked at Ron and then focused his gaze back on Ginny. "A pretty angel."
"A pretty angel?" Ginny asked, glancing at Ron as well. "What kind of pretty angel?"
"Hermione showed up out of nowhere. Saved our lives. Somebody burned down my apartment," Ron explained in a low voice. "I have to go pick up some files from work. Please watch him, please…"
Ginny nodded quickly and opened her front door as Ron turned and tore off down the street, disappearing between his eight and ninth steps, oblivious to the fact that Timmy was calling out for him…
* * *
Harry turned as Lance, rumpled from sleep, entered the room. "What's goin' on, mate?" he asked in a very thick, sleepy Australian accent.
"Where's Jani? We have a new break in the case, and where is she?" Harry demanded of the sleepy spell-hacker. "At home, probably shacked up with Rick!"
"Where does Rick live?" Lance yawned, running his free hand through his hair as he covered his mouth.
"Somewhere in England. Jani's never specified where. He's an odd sort. I've met him twice," Harry explained. "Jani's 'man', as I've heard some people (friends of hers) that I've met say."
"Sounds like she runs with a wild group," Lance observed. "A very wild group." This was said as he pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen. Harry followed him, suddenly hungry. "Er, watch what you eat in here. It might get…dangerous. Don't drink any of the beer, that's for sure." Harry had been reaching for the beer in the cooling unit, but he jerked his hand back sheepishly.
"Yeah, Jani runs with a very wild group. But she's brilliant. Purely genius. Tracked down three Azkaban Deatheaters by herself at the age of sixteen. Her style's a very unique one. Plays everything 'by ear', as the muggles would say." Harry poured himself a glass of wine from Lance's wine cabinet and sipped it cautiously. After a moment, he lowered the glass and twirled the wine inside. "When she was assigned to the 'Granger Files' with me, I was a little worried."
"Why?"
"Because Hermione's not a criminal. She's a mastermind. Criminals that work for Lord Voldemort are stupid. They hide in groups and pretend to be so brave and able to diss Lord Voldemort in a moment, but they're easy to find. And also easy to battle using several different muggle techniques. Which, I might add, Jani can do. But, she's seen it rough. She stood charged with killing her older brother once (his killer was caught three months later). If you ever get into a conversation with her about dark wizards, it can be quite dangerous."
"Dangerous? Conversation with that little pip?" Lance looked skeptical.
"Jani might not be good at trapping masterminds, but she can knock you flat and unconscious before you get a thought in," Harry told him earnestly. "And trust me, don't test her. The result…it won't be pretty."
"I'll remember that," Lance told him, tipping a beer can at him.
"I thought you told me not to drink the beer," Harry said quizzically.
"Well, it's my beer," Lance said logically.
* * *
As it was, Ron stumbled over quite a few pieces of furniture on his way to a light of any sort, pointing at the fire to make it ignite so that he could see his paperwork files. "Granger, Granger," he muttered to himself, pulling out his desk chair and going through the cluttered drawers. After a moment, his fingers found their mark and he shoved papers off of his crowded desk to open the file.
The file opened to reveal a wizard photograph taken nearly three years before. Hermione's face blinked up at him, grumpy from the darkness and confused as to why he would be looking through the file. Ron paused, his fingers hovered above the page to flip to the next, caught in a strange sort of lovesick trance. Several files flopped onto the floor, startling him back into reality.
His fingers thirstily turned the page, whipping past Ron with tidbits of information that would probably assist him in finding Hermione. But he stopped on an otherwise blank sheet of parchment, reading over it quickly. Over the two years, he had enchanted the parchment to mark down whoever sighted Hermione and where. The list was continually growing and with a leap of astonishment, Ron saw that he had been added near the end. But that was not what caught his eye.
Hand written under all the flourished names were two more names. "Harry Potter – California Highway" was written in bold letters, followed by "Jani Peterson – King's Cross". The writing was bold and dainty at the same time, very abrupt and to the point. Ron stared at it in confusion for a moment until it hit him. That was Hermione's writing!
Startled, Ron flipped through the rest of the file, but nothing else had been touched. But he still found what he was looking for.
Arnold Benson, Jr.
4218 H
Falcon Courts North
New Jersey
Excited, Ron grabbed the folder and snapped it shut instants before he disappeared.
* * *
When Jani Apparated to Lance's front stop the next morning, she had not expected to find Harry slung across the couch, exhausted. From the bedroom, Lance was loudly snoring, his breath uneven. "They've been drinking again," she snapped. With a sigh, she Apparated out, too annoyed to deal with them.
* * *
The door to Ginny's house was ajar when Ron landed in the same place he'd left from, so he walked in and shut the door behind him, not knowing what a mess would greet him. Just inside the door to the living room, he stopped and stared. The couch and had been tipped over and the pottery vases that Ginny prided herself for were shattered, bits spread everywhere. Parchment was scattered across the floor, ink still dripping freshly onto the floor. And Ginny was lying, pale and bleeding, in the middle of the floor.
"GINNY!" Ron screamed, and hurtled over the inert couch to wake her. "Ginny? Are you okay?" It was a dumb question; of course, she wasn't okay. What was he thinking? But he had to ask it just to prove to himself that it was real, that Ginny was injured in front of him and not pulling some prank.
"Ronnie, Ron…they took Timmy," Ginny wheezed. "They came in and just carried him off. Ron…you've got to save him!"
"Not until we get you to a hospital," Ron said firmly, hoisting her up. Blood came off on his robes, but he didn't care. It was only a second before they both disappeared.
* * *
A/N: Well, this is the best place to end. I'm only predicting two more chapters of this saga. Sorry I took so long to get this one up. I had to rewrite it. But that's okay. It's slightly shorter than the rest of them, but I didn't have enough space, so this will have to do! Hope you like it, please review! (Hey, look, I'm a poet! Hee hee)