They touched down surprisingly lightly outside the telephone booth
that was the Visitor's Entrance to the Ministry of Magic. Gibbs slipped
off his thestral easily, then helped Ron and Hermione. Ron tottered
unsteadily, quite unsettled by his second flight by invisible flying horse.
Hermione was obviously trying to hold herself together but not doing so
well. Her pale face was tinged with green and she gazed around dazedly.
Gibbs strode confidently to the telephone booth and waited impatiently for
the two. By the time they got back to Auror Headquarters, however, both
Ron and Hermione were looking quite a bit better.
"Creevey!" Ron called. The small, excitable blond boy ran up to them, eager for orders. "We need some more name searches."
They gave Colin the names of the six Death Eaters that Hart had put in Azkaban and he ran off to find out what he could. While they waited, Ron drilled Gibbs on life in the Muggle world.
"So how do you find information?" Ron asked earnestly.
"Well, uh," Gibbs started, a bit taken aback by Ron's fervor. "It's called the 'Internet'. You, um, type in a word, or a name, and it returns the information."
"Wicked," Ron breathed in awe. "Dad brought a ripe-tighter home once. Never knew it could do stuff like that."
"A what?"
"A ripe-tighter! You know, that thing with the letters that goes back and forth?"
"A typewriter! No," Gibbs laughed, understanding. "We use a computer. It's kind of like that, only it has a screen and you can plug it in to other computers. That's really what the Internet is, a network of computers all connected and exchanging information."
Ron stared at him in fascination during this explanation, though he had no clue what Gibbs was talking about. Gibbs was saved from more awkward explanations by Colin returning from his search.
"What'd you find?" Ron asked bluntly.
"Well, not much. Lucius Malfoy is still in the maximum-security section of Azkaban. Patrick Hayes died three months ago after an escape attempt. Gretchen Leddy tried to escape with him but didn't fight as hard when they caught her. She's in solitary confinement. Timothy Rory, Floyd Sweeney, and Vivian Westin are all safely in their cells in the medium- security section. I confirmed all of this with the guards," Colin finished, almost apologetically.
"All right," Hermione frowned. "Thanks, Colin." He ran off again, surprising Gibbs with his seemingly boundless energy.
"Where does that leave us?" Ron asked despondently.
"I have an idea," Gibbs answered.
********
The three of them walked silently through the grove. Ron and Hermione had their wands out. They broke into the open, their grim expressions illuminated by the pale moonlight. Hart's body was gone, but the scene was otherwise the same. Ron and Hermione exchanged nervous glances, wondering if Gibbs' plan would work. Gibbs himself appeared supremely unconcerned, all the while keeping an alert watch.
"Put the wands down," a cold voice spoke from behind them. "Now!"
Ron and Hermione slowly placed their wands on the ground, turning to face their ambusher. They recognized his face from the memory of Robby Paulson: a long, not altogether bad-looking face ringed by thick brown hair. It could have belonged to anyone on the street; the only distinguishing feature was a thin, jagged scar running from his right eye to his upper lip. The pearly white scar pulled his mouth in a permanent sneer, making his otherwise friendly face look hateful. His blue eyes were cold and unfeeling.
"Who are you?" asked Ron bravely, his voice quivering slightly.
The man laughed, but the sound bore no feeling of happiness or humor. "You know who I am," he replied frostily. "Or you would not be here. It is unfortunate, however," he added, seemingly bored. "Because I will have to kill you now. So inconvenient," he sighed.
"Why did you kill LCDR Patterson?" Gibbs piped up. The man had so far ignored Gibbs, but now turned to him with an expression of distaste.
"Why do you care, Muggle?" he asked.
"We want to know why a well-respected Auror would kill an informant," Hermione answered for him.
The man rounded on her furiously. "Well-respected? I was the best Auror in the program. I caught more Death Eaters than anyone. I brought Hart in. He fought, he did, but I was too good for him." The man traced his scar almost absent-mindedly. "He was one of the worst, and the smartest. He was bright enough to get involved with He-Who-Must-Not-Be- Named without committing himself too much. That gave him an out, bargaining power when he got caught. He gave the Ministry enough Death Eaters to get himself out. They thought he was reformed, got him into W.I.Z.A.R.D. They disrespected me! They cared nothing for my years of service, my commitment to the Aurory. I caught Hart, and they let him go." The man's voice had an edge of insanity, through the obvious anger.
"But he gave them six top Death Eaters," Hermione said, sounding disgusted by this man's apparent delusion and pride.
"They let him go," he snarled, his face twisted in rage. "He was my prize catch, and they let him go."
"Aurors serve the public, not their own selfish pride," Ron spat.
"When you make your first catch, boy," the man stated with great confidence. "You will understand. Now – "
"Why use an Unforgivable?" Hermione asked.
"Because it is easier," the man said openly. "The inconvenience of tracking Hart down tired me. It is much simpler." He said this so matter- of-factly that he might have been discussing the advantages of cleaning with magic rather than Muggle methods.
"You're mad," Ron whispered in horror. "You're sick."
The man laughed again, with no emotion. "Perhaps," he shrugged. "But no matter. I shall kill you now, and no one will ever be the wiser."
"I'm sorry," Gibbs spoke up again. "I can't let you do that."
The man turned toward him with a cross of amusement and annoyance. "What do you think you're going to do about it, Muggle? I could kill you, too, in an instant if I wanted to. But," he nodded, smiling, as if he were granting Gibbs a wonderful favor. "I will spare you. If only because Muggles are too stupid to do anything, and it would therefore be a pointless exercise to bother killing you." He turned back to Ron and Hermione and raised his wand.
He opened his mouth to utter the Killing Curse, when a roar echoed through the grove and he fell to the ground. Ron and Hermione stood, open- mouthed, staring at Gibbs. He remained stock-still, his arm raised and holding his newly reacquired gun. He strode to the fallen Seth Gristlemore, checking to see that he was still alive. Kicking his wand out of his hand, he spoke with disgust to the rogue.
"Never underestimate a Marine."
********
Ron finished dictating the report to his quill and gathered up the pages of parchment. Hermione sat nearby, her nose buried, as usual, in a thick book. Gibbs was watching a Quidditch poster with fascination, having become quite intrigued by the game in the past few days.
"How's that?" Ron asked, handing his report to Hermione to check over.
She perused it quickly, nodding now and then. "Not bad. You left out some things, though. Gristlemore quit the Aurory because he was insulted, yes, but he was about to be fired anyway for his attitude toward Muggles. And you didn't put in anything about Agent Gibbs' idea."
Ron looked uncomfortable. "Yeah, well, er, I didn't know how it would look if a Muggle was the one to plan the arrest."
Hermione frowned. "Careful, Ron. That's how Gristlemore started: with a doubt of Muggles' abilities. It was a good idea and it worked. I think, Ron, that our superiors will actually be most pleased that you had the good sense to involve outside help."
"Yeah, okay. Give it here, then." Ron took the parchment from Hermione and added a goodly portion to the end.
"Agent Gibbs," Hermione asked, a bit hesitantly. "I've been meaning to ask you. How did you know it was Gristlemore? And that he would fall for the trap?"
Gibbs turned from the Quidditch poster. "Well, I figured after the people he'd put in prison, the only one who'd want to kill Hart would be the one who brought him in. The fact that Gristlemore quit right after Hart got off pretty much proved that. It seemed like he quit because he was too arrogant to see his prisoner go free graciously. I counted on that pride to draw him to us when we sent out the word that we knew who'd killed Hart." Gibbs spoke quietly and modestly, then turned back to the Quidditch poster.
Hermione was gazing admiringly at Gibbs. Ron frowned at the look on her face, then glared at Gibbs' back. Gibbs remained quite absorbed by the Quidditch poster, completely unaware of the eyes on him. Suddenly, he looked at his watch.
"I should probably be going back," he said, almost regretfully. "I don't know how I'm going to write this one up."
Hermione smiled. "Sorry, Agent Gibbs. I'm sure you'll think of something."
Ron continued glaring and didn't say anything. Gibbs looked a bit confused at Ron's behavior, but then saw the lingering smile on Hermione's face and understood.
"So, um," he started, unsure how to ask. "Could you take me back to NCIS Headquarters?" He directed the question at Ron.
Ron scowled but nodded. "Follow me," he sighed.
Gibbs followed, but as soon as they were out of earshot of Hermione, he steered Ron into a deserted room.
"What – " Ron protested.
"Just listen," Gibbs insisted. He looked around to be sure they were alone. Satisfied, he turned back to Ron. "Buy her flowers."
Ron blinked. "I'm sorry?" he asked in a tone that suggested he wondered about Gibbs' sanity.
But Gibbs did not elaborate. "Buy her flowers," he repeated.
They left the room, Ron in the lead, Gibbs whistling softly. Ron led Gibbs to an office marked 'Portkey Authority'. Knocking, they entered to find a room littered with an odd assortment of items. A witch sat behind a desk amid the conglomeration of pots, balls, old bags, metal pipes, and other various bits of trash. The largest item in the room was a table Gibbs recognized from the NCIS interrogation room.
"Ron Weasley," Ron directed to the witch. "And Agent Jethro Gibbs. We need to pick up the portkey back to NCIS Headquarters."
"NC-what?" the witch asked.
Gibbs snorted quietly. Even wizards had trouble with it.
"N. C. I. S," Ron said slowly and clearly. "It's, er, the unauthorized one that came in two days ago," he added embarrassedly.
"Oh," said the witch in sudden comprehension. "You're that Ron Weasley. It's that table over there."
"Thank you," Ron said, stepping over to the table with Gibbs. "You're sure you won't be seen?"
"It's four in the morning in Washington," Gibbs said. "I'm the only one who gets to the office that early."
"Right. Okay, then. You just touch the table," Ron explained. "And it'll take you right back."
"Got it. Well, Weasley," Gibbs said gruffly, with more of his usual brusqueness. He stuck out his hand. "It's been...interesting."
"Yeah. Same to you, mate." Ron shook Gibbs' hand. "Maybe we'll meet again someday."
"If I ever need a Silencing Charm," he grinned. "I'll call you. Might be good for DiNozzo..." he added under his breath.
"Oh," Ron said suddenly. "I almost forgot. Hermione wanted to give you this." He pulled from his pocket a small picture of Ron, Hermione, and another boy Gibbs didn't recognize. They waved enthusiastically at him. "Bit of a souvenir, I s'pose," Ron explained.
Gibbs thanked him and decided it really was time to go. Too much longer and people would start coming into the office. He couldn't risk being seen appearing, with a table, from nowhere. He reached out, slightly apprehensive, to the table. He didn't remember his first portkey journey too well; he had been a bit in shock that time. The second his fingers touched the table, he felt a jerk behind his navel and a rush of swirling color. The table seemed to be pulling him forward and his fingers were stuck to it as if by superglue.
His feet hit the ground with a thud. He stumbled slightly, then regained his footing. He stood in the dark interrogation room, completely alone. He sighed, then walked slowly up to his cubicle. Might as well get a start on work, since he'd missed two days.
He worked in silence for a few hours, before the lights flickered on and Kate walked into the office. She didn't notice him for a few moments as she busied herself getting the office ready for the day. Suddenly, she became aware of the other person in the room.
"Gibbs!" she exclaimed. "Where on earth have you been?"
Gibbs was slightly surprised that her voice, like Tony's a couple of days earlier, held a distinct note of worry. He considered his reply. What could he say? He had been to London, to Scotland, to a medieval castle, to a government office for wizards. He smiled slightly, fingering the picture in his pocket. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"Creevey!" Ron called. The small, excitable blond boy ran up to them, eager for orders. "We need some more name searches."
They gave Colin the names of the six Death Eaters that Hart had put in Azkaban and he ran off to find out what he could. While they waited, Ron drilled Gibbs on life in the Muggle world.
"So how do you find information?" Ron asked earnestly.
"Well, uh," Gibbs started, a bit taken aback by Ron's fervor. "It's called the 'Internet'. You, um, type in a word, or a name, and it returns the information."
"Wicked," Ron breathed in awe. "Dad brought a ripe-tighter home once. Never knew it could do stuff like that."
"A what?"
"A ripe-tighter! You know, that thing with the letters that goes back and forth?"
"A typewriter! No," Gibbs laughed, understanding. "We use a computer. It's kind of like that, only it has a screen and you can plug it in to other computers. That's really what the Internet is, a network of computers all connected and exchanging information."
Ron stared at him in fascination during this explanation, though he had no clue what Gibbs was talking about. Gibbs was saved from more awkward explanations by Colin returning from his search.
"What'd you find?" Ron asked bluntly.
"Well, not much. Lucius Malfoy is still in the maximum-security section of Azkaban. Patrick Hayes died three months ago after an escape attempt. Gretchen Leddy tried to escape with him but didn't fight as hard when they caught her. She's in solitary confinement. Timothy Rory, Floyd Sweeney, and Vivian Westin are all safely in their cells in the medium- security section. I confirmed all of this with the guards," Colin finished, almost apologetically.
"All right," Hermione frowned. "Thanks, Colin." He ran off again, surprising Gibbs with his seemingly boundless energy.
"Where does that leave us?" Ron asked despondently.
"I have an idea," Gibbs answered.
********
The three of them walked silently through the grove. Ron and Hermione had their wands out. They broke into the open, their grim expressions illuminated by the pale moonlight. Hart's body was gone, but the scene was otherwise the same. Ron and Hermione exchanged nervous glances, wondering if Gibbs' plan would work. Gibbs himself appeared supremely unconcerned, all the while keeping an alert watch.
"Put the wands down," a cold voice spoke from behind them. "Now!"
Ron and Hermione slowly placed their wands on the ground, turning to face their ambusher. They recognized his face from the memory of Robby Paulson: a long, not altogether bad-looking face ringed by thick brown hair. It could have belonged to anyone on the street; the only distinguishing feature was a thin, jagged scar running from his right eye to his upper lip. The pearly white scar pulled his mouth in a permanent sneer, making his otherwise friendly face look hateful. His blue eyes were cold and unfeeling.
"Who are you?" asked Ron bravely, his voice quivering slightly.
The man laughed, but the sound bore no feeling of happiness or humor. "You know who I am," he replied frostily. "Or you would not be here. It is unfortunate, however," he added, seemingly bored. "Because I will have to kill you now. So inconvenient," he sighed.
"Why did you kill LCDR Patterson?" Gibbs piped up. The man had so far ignored Gibbs, but now turned to him with an expression of distaste.
"Why do you care, Muggle?" he asked.
"We want to know why a well-respected Auror would kill an informant," Hermione answered for him.
The man rounded on her furiously. "Well-respected? I was the best Auror in the program. I caught more Death Eaters than anyone. I brought Hart in. He fought, he did, but I was too good for him." The man traced his scar almost absent-mindedly. "He was one of the worst, and the smartest. He was bright enough to get involved with He-Who-Must-Not-Be- Named without committing himself too much. That gave him an out, bargaining power when he got caught. He gave the Ministry enough Death Eaters to get himself out. They thought he was reformed, got him into W.I.Z.A.R.D. They disrespected me! They cared nothing for my years of service, my commitment to the Aurory. I caught Hart, and they let him go." The man's voice had an edge of insanity, through the obvious anger.
"But he gave them six top Death Eaters," Hermione said, sounding disgusted by this man's apparent delusion and pride.
"They let him go," he snarled, his face twisted in rage. "He was my prize catch, and they let him go."
"Aurors serve the public, not their own selfish pride," Ron spat.
"When you make your first catch, boy," the man stated with great confidence. "You will understand. Now – "
"Why use an Unforgivable?" Hermione asked.
"Because it is easier," the man said openly. "The inconvenience of tracking Hart down tired me. It is much simpler." He said this so matter- of-factly that he might have been discussing the advantages of cleaning with magic rather than Muggle methods.
"You're mad," Ron whispered in horror. "You're sick."
The man laughed again, with no emotion. "Perhaps," he shrugged. "But no matter. I shall kill you now, and no one will ever be the wiser."
"I'm sorry," Gibbs spoke up again. "I can't let you do that."
The man turned toward him with a cross of amusement and annoyance. "What do you think you're going to do about it, Muggle? I could kill you, too, in an instant if I wanted to. But," he nodded, smiling, as if he were granting Gibbs a wonderful favor. "I will spare you. If only because Muggles are too stupid to do anything, and it would therefore be a pointless exercise to bother killing you." He turned back to Ron and Hermione and raised his wand.
He opened his mouth to utter the Killing Curse, when a roar echoed through the grove and he fell to the ground. Ron and Hermione stood, open- mouthed, staring at Gibbs. He remained stock-still, his arm raised and holding his newly reacquired gun. He strode to the fallen Seth Gristlemore, checking to see that he was still alive. Kicking his wand out of his hand, he spoke with disgust to the rogue.
"Never underestimate a Marine."
********
Ron finished dictating the report to his quill and gathered up the pages of parchment. Hermione sat nearby, her nose buried, as usual, in a thick book. Gibbs was watching a Quidditch poster with fascination, having become quite intrigued by the game in the past few days.
"How's that?" Ron asked, handing his report to Hermione to check over.
She perused it quickly, nodding now and then. "Not bad. You left out some things, though. Gristlemore quit the Aurory because he was insulted, yes, but he was about to be fired anyway for his attitude toward Muggles. And you didn't put in anything about Agent Gibbs' idea."
Ron looked uncomfortable. "Yeah, well, er, I didn't know how it would look if a Muggle was the one to plan the arrest."
Hermione frowned. "Careful, Ron. That's how Gristlemore started: with a doubt of Muggles' abilities. It was a good idea and it worked. I think, Ron, that our superiors will actually be most pleased that you had the good sense to involve outside help."
"Yeah, okay. Give it here, then." Ron took the parchment from Hermione and added a goodly portion to the end.
"Agent Gibbs," Hermione asked, a bit hesitantly. "I've been meaning to ask you. How did you know it was Gristlemore? And that he would fall for the trap?"
Gibbs turned from the Quidditch poster. "Well, I figured after the people he'd put in prison, the only one who'd want to kill Hart would be the one who brought him in. The fact that Gristlemore quit right after Hart got off pretty much proved that. It seemed like he quit because he was too arrogant to see his prisoner go free graciously. I counted on that pride to draw him to us when we sent out the word that we knew who'd killed Hart." Gibbs spoke quietly and modestly, then turned back to the Quidditch poster.
Hermione was gazing admiringly at Gibbs. Ron frowned at the look on her face, then glared at Gibbs' back. Gibbs remained quite absorbed by the Quidditch poster, completely unaware of the eyes on him. Suddenly, he looked at his watch.
"I should probably be going back," he said, almost regretfully. "I don't know how I'm going to write this one up."
Hermione smiled. "Sorry, Agent Gibbs. I'm sure you'll think of something."
Ron continued glaring and didn't say anything. Gibbs looked a bit confused at Ron's behavior, but then saw the lingering smile on Hermione's face and understood.
"So, um," he started, unsure how to ask. "Could you take me back to NCIS Headquarters?" He directed the question at Ron.
Ron scowled but nodded. "Follow me," he sighed.
Gibbs followed, but as soon as they were out of earshot of Hermione, he steered Ron into a deserted room.
"What – " Ron protested.
"Just listen," Gibbs insisted. He looked around to be sure they were alone. Satisfied, he turned back to Ron. "Buy her flowers."
Ron blinked. "I'm sorry?" he asked in a tone that suggested he wondered about Gibbs' sanity.
But Gibbs did not elaborate. "Buy her flowers," he repeated.
They left the room, Ron in the lead, Gibbs whistling softly. Ron led Gibbs to an office marked 'Portkey Authority'. Knocking, they entered to find a room littered with an odd assortment of items. A witch sat behind a desk amid the conglomeration of pots, balls, old bags, metal pipes, and other various bits of trash. The largest item in the room was a table Gibbs recognized from the NCIS interrogation room.
"Ron Weasley," Ron directed to the witch. "And Agent Jethro Gibbs. We need to pick up the portkey back to NCIS Headquarters."
"NC-what?" the witch asked.
Gibbs snorted quietly. Even wizards had trouble with it.
"N. C. I. S," Ron said slowly and clearly. "It's, er, the unauthorized one that came in two days ago," he added embarrassedly.
"Oh," said the witch in sudden comprehension. "You're that Ron Weasley. It's that table over there."
"Thank you," Ron said, stepping over to the table with Gibbs. "You're sure you won't be seen?"
"It's four in the morning in Washington," Gibbs said. "I'm the only one who gets to the office that early."
"Right. Okay, then. You just touch the table," Ron explained. "And it'll take you right back."
"Got it. Well, Weasley," Gibbs said gruffly, with more of his usual brusqueness. He stuck out his hand. "It's been...interesting."
"Yeah. Same to you, mate." Ron shook Gibbs' hand. "Maybe we'll meet again someday."
"If I ever need a Silencing Charm," he grinned. "I'll call you. Might be good for DiNozzo..." he added under his breath.
"Oh," Ron said suddenly. "I almost forgot. Hermione wanted to give you this." He pulled from his pocket a small picture of Ron, Hermione, and another boy Gibbs didn't recognize. They waved enthusiastically at him. "Bit of a souvenir, I s'pose," Ron explained.
Gibbs thanked him and decided it really was time to go. Too much longer and people would start coming into the office. He couldn't risk being seen appearing, with a table, from nowhere. He reached out, slightly apprehensive, to the table. He didn't remember his first portkey journey too well; he had been a bit in shock that time. The second his fingers touched the table, he felt a jerk behind his navel and a rush of swirling color. The table seemed to be pulling him forward and his fingers were stuck to it as if by superglue.
His feet hit the ground with a thud. He stumbled slightly, then regained his footing. He stood in the dark interrogation room, completely alone. He sighed, then walked slowly up to his cubicle. Might as well get a start on work, since he'd missed two days.
He worked in silence for a few hours, before the lights flickered on and Kate walked into the office. She didn't notice him for a few moments as she busied herself getting the office ready for the day. Suddenly, she became aware of the other person in the room.
"Gibbs!" she exclaimed. "Where on earth have you been?"
Gibbs was slightly surprised that her voice, like Tony's a couple of days earlier, held a distinct note of worry. He considered his reply. What could he say? He had been to London, to Scotland, to a medieval castle, to a government office for wizards. He smiled slightly, fingering the picture in his pocket. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."