A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Shannon – Ron was on a training assignment,
so there was probably an agreement with the Americans to let him work on
it. As for the Floo, the story is a few years in the future, Voldemort has
been defeated, and #12 is no longer the headquarters of the Order so
therefore does not require the stringent security measures anymore. Good
questions!
When Ron emerged from the fireplace, Hermione was trying to comfort a distraught and very ill-looking Agent Gibbs. He seemed to slowly be regaining the ability to speak, due largely, no doubt, to the lack of overt magical activity in the stone kitchen. His mouth opened and closed like a fish's before he finally croaked out one word.
"Coffee?" It was more a plea than anything else. Hermione looked as if she might fly off the handle again.
"He's an American?"
"Er, yeah," Ron answered, not sure what else to say. Hermione glared at him, before turning back to Agent Gibbs.
"I'm sorry, sir. I've never made coffee before. I'm rather good at tea," she suggested. His face twisted involuntarily into a grimace. "Or I could give coffee a go," Hermione offered hastily. Agent Gibbs nodded gratefully and even managed a small smile.
As Hermione bustled about, trying to make coffee without using too much magic, Ron sat with Agent Gibbs at the long table. The Muggle was starting to relax a little and the color was returning to his face.
"Look, mate, I'm sorry about your hand. And for the shock. I don't want you to be scared, so let's get formal introductions out of the way. Agent Gibbs, this is Hermione Granger, one of my best friends and fellow Auror-in-Training," Ron began, noting the almost immediate look of confusion in Agent Gibbs' eyes. "We'll come back to that. Anyway, we are currently in the kitchen of our other best friend, Harry Potter's, house, in London. Any questions so far?"
"Yeah," Gibbs said hoarsely. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Why am I here?"
Ron grinned. "Well, you're here to help us. Of for us to help you. We're working on the same case as you. We realize that Muggles can contribute certain technology that may be beneficial to an investigation," Ron recited, wearing an expression that said he didn't quite believe it. He stopped, seeing the now-complete confusion on Agent Gibbs' face.
"Muggle?" Gibbs asked, looking like he wasn't even sure he wanted to know.
"Ah. Yes. Okay." Ron tried to think how best to breach the subject. "We, that is to say Hermione and me, are wizards. Well, Hermione's a witch but that's not important. A person, like you, who isn't a wizard or witch is a Muggle." Ron was quite pleased with his explanation, but Agent Gibbs was looking alarmed again.
"You're crazy," he whispered. "You're insane. Please, just let me go."
Ron sighed. He had hoped it wouldn't come to this. He took out his wand. "This," he explained. "Is a wand. Watch."
He swished-and-flicked and, with a quiet "Wingardium Leviosa", levitated the saltshaker on the table. Agent Gibbs' eyes were back to dinner plates as he glanced from the saltshaker to Ron and back. Then he began to laugh, a nervous little giggle that was not at all joyful.
"I'm the crazy one," he muttered. "I must be. This is too much; I've finally gone off the deep end." And with that, he fainted.
********
Gibbs could hear muffled voices somewhere above him. They might have been concerned; he wasn't awake enough to tell. He was feeling pretty good, except for the remnants of his strange and awful dream. He didn't want to wake up. This place, somewhere between sleep and waking, was quite nice. No terrorists, no murders, no problems. However, he didn't have much choice in the matter. A large quantity of very cold water suddenly pulled him from his half-conscious state. When he opened his eyes, he very nearly passed out again.
He recognized the stone kitchen from what he had thought was an unpleasant dream. The freckled face of Ron Weasley swam in his vision.
"You all right, mate? Didn't mean to scare you. Just had to prove – "
"Ron, let him recover! Sorry, Agent Gibbs, Ron didn't mean any harm. And you're not going mad. Here (help me, Ron)," Hermione said as they heaved him onto a bench. "We'll take it slower this time. Oh, here's your coffee."
Gibbs grabbed the mug she offered him and downed several gulps quickly. It certainly wasn't the best he had ever had, but it was coffee. Something familiar in this strange and eerie world. Gibbs squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that when he opened them again he would be back at NCIS Headquarters, trying to solve a murder. It was not to be. Gibbs decided that if he was going crazy, there wasn't much he could do about it and if he wasn't, he had better cooperate with these people who wanted to help him.
"Okay," he said. "I'll help you. What do you know about LCDR Patterson?"
Weasley and Hermione looked startled at his sudden change of attitude. Weasley recovered first, and tried to stifle a grin. Hermione, too, looked amused, though she was more polite about it.
"Er, Agent Gibbs, I think, perhaps, that you should tell us what you know," Hermione said, quietly and respectfully, but with a distinct air of condescension. Gibbs could clearly see that he was not the superior here and accepted his new position graciously.
"All right," he agreed. "Lieutenant Commander Tyler Patterson, United States Navy. Found dead outside Norfolk, VA. No wounds, no poison, no perceptible cause of death. I have my people working on his history, but I was, um, transferred before they found anything. That's all I know."
Weasley and Hermione nodded knowingly. "Thank you," Hermione acknowledged. They whispered together for a few moments while Gibbs waited.
"Um, excuse me?" he ventured. They looked up. "Not to be rude, but I told you what I know. What do I get in return?"
They looked at each other, as if debating what to tell him. "Well, we can tell you that your LCDR Patterson was killed by a Killing Curse," Weasley started. "And that his name was not Tyler Patterson. He wasn't exactly in the Navy either."
"What do you mean, he wasn't exactly in the Navy?" Gibbs asked.
"Well, we don't know all the details yet," Hermione cautioned, clearly not wanting to tell him. "But he was definitely a wizard. We have ways of detecting Magic blood," she explained to Gibbs' curious look. "His name was...oh, yes. Richard Hart. We have a lower-level Auror-in-Training doing a Name Search Charm on old records."
Gibbs squinted, like he did when he didn't understand something. "What exactly is an 'Auror'?"
"Oh! Of course," Hermione said, embarrassed. "How silly of me. Aurors are dark-wizard catchers. Sort of like policemen for wizards." Hermione hesitated, like she was trying to decide whether or not to ask a question. "Er, Agent Gibbs, I was wondering...what exactly is it that you do?"
"I'm a supervisor at NCIS. Naval Criminal Investigative Service," Gibbs explained. "It's kind of like the police of the Navy."
"So we are in the same business after all! Excellent," piped in Weasley. "Well, shall we get back to the ministry?"
Hermione nodded. "We just wanted to get you out of the magic," she explained to Gibbs. "Hope you don't mind Floo again."
Gibbs made a face behind their backs. Whatever else he thought about this mysterious world, he decided he definitely did not like travel by Floo powder.
When Ron emerged from the fireplace, Hermione was trying to comfort a distraught and very ill-looking Agent Gibbs. He seemed to slowly be regaining the ability to speak, due largely, no doubt, to the lack of overt magical activity in the stone kitchen. His mouth opened and closed like a fish's before he finally croaked out one word.
"Coffee?" It was more a plea than anything else. Hermione looked as if she might fly off the handle again.
"He's an American?"
"Er, yeah," Ron answered, not sure what else to say. Hermione glared at him, before turning back to Agent Gibbs.
"I'm sorry, sir. I've never made coffee before. I'm rather good at tea," she suggested. His face twisted involuntarily into a grimace. "Or I could give coffee a go," Hermione offered hastily. Agent Gibbs nodded gratefully and even managed a small smile.
As Hermione bustled about, trying to make coffee without using too much magic, Ron sat with Agent Gibbs at the long table. The Muggle was starting to relax a little and the color was returning to his face.
"Look, mate, I'm sorry about your hand. And for the shock. I don't want you to be scared, so let's get formal introductions out of the way. Agent Gibbs, this is Hermione Granger, one of my best friends and fellow Auror-in-Training," Ron began, noting the almost immediate look of confusion in Agent Gibbs' eyes. "We'll come back to that. Anyway, we are currently in the kitchen of our other best friend, Harry Potter's, house, in London. Any questions so far?"
"Yeah," Gibbs said hoarsely. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Why am I here?"
Ron grinned. "Well, you're here to help us. Of for us to help you. We're working on the same case as you. We realize that Muggles can contribute certain technology that may be beneficial to an investigation," Ron recited, wearing an expression that said he didn't quite believe it. He stopped, seeing the now-complete confusion on Agent Gibbs' face.
"Muggle?" Gibbs asked, looking like he wasn't even sure he wanted to know.
"Ah. Yes. Okay." Ron tried to think how best to breach the subject. "We, that is to say Hermione and me, are wizards. Well, Hermione's a witch but that's not important. A person, like you, who isn't a wizard or witch is a Muggle." Ron was quite pleased with his explanation, but Agent Gibbs was looking alarmed again.
"You're crazy," he whispered. "You're insane. Please, just let me go."
Ron sighed. He had hoped it wouldn't come to this. He took out his wand. "This," he explained. "Is a wand. Watch."
He swished-and-flicked and, with a quiet "Wingardium Leviosa", levitated the saltshaker on the table. Agent Gibbs' eyes were back to dinner plates as he glanced from the saltshaker to Ron and back. Then he began to laugh, a nervous little giggle that was not at all joyful.
"I'm the crazy one," he muttered. "I must be. This is too much; I've finally gone off the deep end." And with that, he fainted.
********
Gibbs could hear muffled voices somewhere above him. They might have been concerned; he wasn't awake enough to tell. He was feeling pretty good, except for the remnants of his strange and awful dream. He didn't want to wake up. This place, somewhere between sleep and waking, was quite nice. No terrorists, no murders, no problems. However, he didn't have much choice in the matter. A large quantity of very cold water suddenly pulled him from his half-conscious state. When he opened his eyes, he very nearly passed out again.
He recognized the stone kitchen from what he had thought was an unpleasant dream. The freckled face of Ron Weasley swam in his vision.
"You all right, mate? Didn't mean to scare you. Just had to prove – "
"Ron, let him recover! Sorry, Agent Gibbs, Ron didn't mean any harm. And you're not going mad. Here (help me, Ron)," Hermione said as they heaved him onto a bench. "We'll take it slower this time. Oh, here's your coffee."
Gibbs grabbed the mug she offered him and downed several gulps quickly. It certainly wasn't the best he had ever had, but it was coffee. Something familiar in this strange and eerie world. Gibbs squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that when he opened them again he would be back at NCIS Headquarters, trying to solve a murder. It was not to be. Gibbs decided that if he was going crazy, there wasn't much he could do about it and if he wasn't, he had better cooperate with these people who wanted to help him.
"Okay," he said. "I'll help you. What do you know about LCDR Patterson?"
Weasley and Hermione looked startled at his sudden change of attitude. Weasley recovered first, and tried to stifle a grin. Hermione, too, looked amused, though she was more polite about it.
"Er, Agent Gibbs, I think, perhaps, that you should tell us what you know," Hermione said, quietly and respectfully, but with a distinct air of condescension. Gibbs could clearly see that he was not the superior here and accepted his new position graciously.
"All right," he agreed. "Lieutenant Commander Tyler Patterson, United States Navy. Found dead outside Norfolk, VA. No wounds, no poison, no perceptible cause of death. I have my people working on his history, but I was, um, transferred before they found anything. That's all I know."
Weasley and Hermione nodded knowingly. "Thank you," Hermione acknowledged. They whispered together for a few moments while Gibbs waited.
"Um, excuse me?" he ventured. They looked up. "Not to be rude, but I told you what I know. What do I get in return?"
They looked at each other, as if debating what to tell him. "Well, we can tell you that your LCDR Patterson was killed by a Killing Curse," Weasley started. "And that his name was not Tyler Patterson. He wasn't exactly in the Navy either."
"What do you mean, he wasn't exactly in the Navy?" Gibbs asked.
"Well, we don't know all the details yet," Hermione cautioned, clearly not wanting to tell him. "But he was definitely a wizard. We have ways of detecting Magic blood," she explained to Gibbs' curious look. "His name was...oh, yes. Richard Hart. We have a lower-level Auror-in-Training doing a Name Search Charm on old records."
Gibbs squinted, like he did when he didn't understand something. "What exactly is an 'Auror'?"
"Oh! Of course," Hermione said, embarrassed. "How silly of me. Aurors are dark-wizard catchers. Sort of like policemen for wizards." Hermione hesitated, like she was trying to decide whether or not to ask a question. "Er, Agent Gibbs, I was wondering...what exactly is it that you do?"
"I'm a supervisor at NCIS. Naval Criminal Investigative Service," Gibbs explained. "It's kind of like the police of the Navy."
"So we are in the same business after all! Excellent," piped in Weasley. "Well, shall we get back to the ministry?"
Hermione nodded. "We just wanted to get you out of the magic," she explained to Gibbs. "Hope you don't mind Floo again."
Gibbs made a face behind their backs. Whatever else he thought about this mysterious world, he decided he definitely did not like travel by Floo powder.