A/N: Truth be told, I'm bad at scheming, so I'm leaving the whole plan of our favourite group of criminals a little bit in the dark. Thanks AnnaK82. I'm doing my best to keep it fun ;o)

Chapter four – Cops & Robbers

'I can come?' Simone asked anxiously.
Skeeter raised her eyebrows. 'What good would you do us?' she demanded of her. 'You're a Muggle. Not just any Muggle, you live in an all Muggle realm.'

The young girl ignored Skeeter, she decided silently that she had just lost a few major points and if the woman didn't watch out, she'd be off her lists of favourites. She understoodRita was bitter and everything, now that she no longer had a job, but she needn't take it out on her! She didn't do anything wrong! Instead, Simone focused on Dumbledore.

'Of course you can come,' he said gently. 'As long as your grandmother agrees.'

Her eyes were about to pop out of her head. Was he insane? 'My grandmother will never agree,' she said. 'She'd kill me first!'

'I will talk to her,' Dumbledore said. 'We will have to get past her one way or another. We will have to use the Muggle way of transportation. As you know, Harry, Ron and Hermione can't Apparate yet.'

'You could just try to climb out of my window,' Simone suggested. 'It's not that high, so if you fall, the worst thing that could happen is breaking your leg, or whatever. You guys can mend that stuff in a split second….'

'I'll take the stairs, thank you,' Skeeter said stiffly.

Ron seemed to agree with that.

'Oh fine,' Simone said annoyed, crossing her arms. 'But don't say I didn't warn you! It'll be the end of us!'

Some miles away, over the sea, Parson sat in his brother's apartment again, talking with Simon Gibbon.

Parson was to find someone interested in the books and Simon had offered to help. He knew a few people who'd be more than willing to get their hands on these books. 'They'll pay us in gold, if they must,' Simon said grinning. 'Heaps and heaps of gold.'

Parson knew very well that the Harry Potter books were famous, him being a huge fan himself, but paying heaps and heaps of gold for it, was a little over the top. On the other hand, almost everything that happened here was over the top. Simon still had to hire the truck drivers who'd take the books to the stores and the airport and boats and whatever. First, Parson had said he might as well hire Nonnie, Hyde and the Escobar brothers.

'Don't be an idiot, you think I can hire Nonnie?' Simon had protested. 'That would be rich! Someone who's been busted for burglary at least five-hundred times, convicted for jail five times and still on fucking probation… well, let her guard the books, I say! No one would be suspicious!'

'Point taken,' Parson had mumbled. Simon had then continued, saying it was best to keep everyone out of their 'world'away fromthe job. They'd demand 'their share' afterwards. He'd just hire some idiots he knew from back home. Some dumb people that would believe every word of it if the Escobar twins and Nonnie and Hyde were to tell them that they'd drive the rest of the journey. For security reasons or whatnot.

'But we have more trucks than people on the job,' Parson had said. 'There are at least a dozen!'

'Two dozen, to be precise,' Leroy had admitted. He'd looked around the group, 'We have two dozen trucks and we can't move them all at the same time. So what are we going to do?'

Bringing more people on was out of the question, but than Simon had smiled in a very strange manner and had said that he had no problem fixing that little detail. Don't worry, he'd said. He'd make sure that all the trucks were on location when they needed to be.

When they'd asked him to explain, he'd just shook his head. 'Everyone has their own little secrets. Just trust me on this one.'

Of course the Escobar's had a hard time believing him, but after a long heated argument Leroy had bellowed that everyone had to shut the hell up or he'd make sure that they'd never leave this room again.

Now Parson was looking at a list of possible buyers. They had the strangest names. The longer he worked here, the more he got the feeling that something was very, very wrong with all of it. Not morally speaking. It wasn't like JK Rowling would suffer the loss of this books, the woman was rich enough already without these books adding to her capital. And it were just books after all. It wasn't like he was killing someone, and the books would end up with the fans eventually anyhow. Perhaps the books would be reprinted and then no harm was done at all.

He'd just have some more money!

But other things were very wrong with this case. The way Simon was excited by all of it, sometimes he looked like he was high on coke or something. Running around as he did, singing songs, dancing, than suddenly jumping and laughing excitedly.

But Simon didn't do coke, or drugs for that matter. Not even alcohol or cigarettes. Candy, that was his thing. Kit Kat, Mars, Twix, Snickers…

At least it contained enough sugar for the bastard to be jumping up and down. How the hell he stayed in shape while eating the way he did, Parson didn't know, but he'd sure like to find out.

Besides Simon, there was also the names. The funny names that he was sure no normal soul in England would have. The strange calls of people who so not understood how phones worked, the way they shouted at it, screaming that they couldn't hear him because they held the horn upside down. People sometimes just appearing out of nowhere, while he was walking down the street, to make him an offer. When he'd spoken with them shortly and made an appointment to write everything down, they'd disappear as fast as they'd appeared again.

If he didn't know any better, and if he wasn't as sane as he was, he might say that there were wizards and witches involved in this plot. And he didn't like that thought, not at all. He'd have to talk to Simone about this. But the problem was, she hadn't been online last night, and not this morning either. He'd send her an e-mail, but had received nothing in return. Had she blocked him, perhaps? Just over his confession of stealing the books? He'd promised her a copy! So what was her big deal!

It's sad to say, that Simone was about the only friend that Parson had. He was never popular, mainly do to his crazy-ass mother and his brother's reputation. Of coursethere weresome guys he hung out with, but he never really connected with any of them. And he could never, ever tell them that he liked Harry Potter. The thought alone!

Well, he'd just e-mail her tonight and everything'd be fine in a few days. Perhaps everything needed to sink in, or perhaps she was just away for a couple of days. He was being paranoid again.

And very swiftly, we fly back over the ocean to the most beautiful country of all: The Netherlands. Simone was waiting in the hall, by the door, as her grandmother ranted and screamed in the living room, saying all kinds of things to Dumbledore, that thankfully he did not understand. Her grandmother was too angry to speak English, so she'd begun mouthing him off in Dutch. Stupid witch.

Ron, Hermione and Harry were sitting on the doormat, listening closely to what was being said. 'Not very nice, is she?' Ron muttered so soft that only the three of them could hear. Harry grinned.

'She's probably just in shock,' Hermione reasoned. 'After all, how would you respond if a fictional character suddenly came knocking on your door?'

'She seems to take it just fine,' Ron said, nodding towards Simone.

'She's known it for some years now.' Hermione pointed out. 'Professor Dumbledore first visited her when the fifth book came out. That must have been four or five years ago.'

Four or five years ago? Harry wondered. Than how old was she, for God's sake?

Rita Skeeter was lighting another cigarette, much to Hermione's annoyance. Simone just turned around and asked if she could have one. This time Skeeter scored a few important points by giving her one and lighting it, so it brought her right back up to number one.

'That's bad for your lungs, you know,' Hermione said disapprovingly.

'Shit happens,' Simone replied coolly, while straining her ears to know what the Hell was going on.

'At least the shouting has stopped,' Ron said cheerfully.

They all waited for another couple of minutes in silence. Simone feeling her stomach flip over a few times, she hoped her grandmother would keep her mouth shut about their situation. That she would not mention it. That would just be the worst. On the other hand, it was more likely that she'd spill her guts than her grandmother. She was always so burned on keeping a low profile.

When Dumbledore returned, he was smiling brightly.

'Simone, you can come with us, on the condition that you promise not to do anything foolish or bring things that are best kept at home.'

Thankfully her grandmother had kept it vague, she'd find a way around this promise without actually breaking it. 'Of course,' she said. 'I promise.'

She just thanked God that the things that were best kept at home, were already safe in her pocket, when they all set out to leave. Her grandmother didn't even so much as wave as they headed for the train station.

The six of them sat on a boat. It'd take them around two days before they'd reach England. None of them knew the next step, or what to do afterwards, but they'd find some way to do what they'd set out to do. And Dumbledore didn't seem to worry about it at all, so everyone relaxed.

Ron was a little seasick, so he either spend time in his cabin, hidden under his blanket, or by the railing puking his guts out.

Harry seemed to enjoy himself, Rita Skeeter was scribbling notes again and Hermione took the time to catch up on her reading. Simone had bought her the Philosopher's Stone. She'd offered Ron and Harry a copy too, but they'd both turned it down. Ron said that he'd hear the whole thing from Hermione anyhow, so that there was no reason for him to read it himself. And Harry wasn't to fond of the idea of reading about himself. Plus, he was slightly worried what the books said.

'What am I like in the books?' Harry asked Simone, that evening. 'I'm not annoying am I?'

'Well…' Simone said hesitantly, 'You were wining a little in the fifth book.'

'Wining?' He protested.

'You have a bit of a temper,' Simone said. 'You know, constantly yelling at everyone when no one needed to yell.' When his temper seemed to play up right now, she swiftly added: 'But of course it was only logical, most of the time. You had a lousy time last year. Not to mention the years before. In fact, experts here say that you are a very balanced boy for someone who's been through so much.'

This seemed to satisfy him for now. Though he still wasn't happy about him having 'a temper'. And being called a 'boy'. He was sixteen!

'How come Rita and Gilderoy are your favourite characters?' Was the next thing he wanted to know. 'I can't understand why…'

'You'd have to read the books yourself for that,' she replied, putting her coat more tightly around her, it was getting chilly. 'Rita and Gilderoy are funny. I bet that they're a pain in the ass in real life, but for me you're not real. You're fictional.'

'But I am real,' Harry reminded her. 'And so are Rita and Gilderoy.'

'Of course,' she admitted. 'But you'll find that thinking to long and hard on that subject will only confuse you. And even though you are real, your world is not mine, so I don't have to see it that way.'

He just looked at her for a while, feeling a bit confused and like protesting against it, but he decided not too. It was far too late to hold some kind of intelligent discussion. Hermione was usually around to do this kind of thing, and he'd just sit there and listen and agree with his friend.