Chapter Five: In Which More Stuff is Researched, and Welshnapping is Done
"Look!" Hermione hissed, stabbing a finger at the book she'd had her friends get her from the library a few days earlier. "Ianto Jones, Slytherin, class of '84!" she said triumphantly. Ron and Harry, used to humoring her, glanced at the page she indicated. And were rather shocked because, yeah, that was definitely an older version of the Hufflepuff first year who was friends with that really annoying first year.
"So... what does this mean?" Ron asked after a moment.
Hermione frowned, and gathered her thoughts (while twitching her remaining whiskers in a contemplative manner). "He could be a spy," she finally voiced, although she didn't seem too certain. "We know You-Know-Who still has followers loyal to him. They could be trying to influence children to their cause, build a new army."
"Jones was a Slytherin," Ron added, as if this made him automatically evil. Which, in their experience, it usually did. "But what about that Owen brat he's always hanging around with? Is he in on it, too?"
Hermione shook her head. "I didn't find him, or any of the others that seem to know Jones, in any of the books. It's possible that they went to Durmstrang or another school, however."
Harry's brow furrowed. "There are other schools?"
"Well, yes, Harry! Really. There's Beauxbatons in France, Durmstrang – which is renowned for teaching Dark magic – in Bulgaria, the Salem's Witches Institute in America-" Hermione started off, fully into lecture mode.
"We get it!" Ron broke in.
"Anyway," Hermione said, giving a Ron a dark look. "They could have explained away Jones as a victim of a curse, I believe there's a number of them that give a person the appearance of their younger self, and a few that actually physically turn them into it, temporarily. He would have been chosen for his knowledge of the school, while the others from Durmstrang are probably being passed off as Muggleborns."
The theory made sense. There was definitely something odd about the five first years, who were often found lurking in corners and sharing secretive whispers.
"I bet they're the ones behind the Chamber thing, too," Ron said suddenly, face glowing. "They were standing around Mrs. Norris when we saw them, remember?"
Harry and Hermione nodded grimly. "But what should we do?" Harry asked. "I mean, the adults aren't going to listen to us. They never do." The three friends frowned and tried to come up with something.
"We'll just have to face them ourselves," Ron finally decided. "They're younger than us, it shouldn't be too hard."
Hermione sighed, exasperated. "Really, Ron! They just appear younger than us, they're actually adults! They know far more curses and defensive magic than we do."
"We could go after Jones first," Harry offered. "Ambush him, so he doesn't have a chance to attack us. Then we can question him without the others knowing we're on to them."
Hermione still looked doubtful – probably because of the number of school rules and magical laws they would be breaking – but Ron agreed to the plan enthusiastically. "I suppose we should do something," Hermione finally said reluctantly. The boys shared a grin but resisted the urge to high-five.
"What the hell? The fuck are you doing?" Ianto shouted, struggling helplessly. He knew it was helpless, because hello? Petrificus totalus? Not a rope to be escaped from, but a spell that bound you starting with your very muscles. This thought occurred to him, and he instantly froze his struggles (not that anyone could tell he'd been struggling in the first place). "I mean, what's the point of this?" he asked, calmly this time.
"Oh, you know exactly what this is about!" the Weasley boy – the youngest Weasley boy, Red? No, that would just be mean, naming a Weasley 'Red'. Ron, that was it! - shouted, poking him in the stomach. Ianto stared at him.
"We need to question you," the brown-haired girl that Owen disliked stated, glaring at the redhead.
"'Art thou a witch, viva espana?'" Ianto quoted sarcastically. At their blank looks he said, in a perfectly calm and serious voice, "No one expects the Spanish Inquisition."
Evidentially none of the three were fans of Monty Python or humorous books about the apocalypse (an apocalypse?), because they just stared at him for a long moment, before the brunette got back on track. "Who are you working for?" she demanded, although some of the intimidation was taken out of the situation by the fact that she kept glancing at the door nervously.
Ianto raised a slow eyebrow, and decided to tell the truth. "Technically, the government of Great Britain."
Potter looked confused. "The Prime Minister's in league with Voldemort?"
"..." said both Ianto and the girl. The miniaturized Welshman shook his head. "Uh, no. She isn't. She does like to blow aliens up, though." Hm, that probably broke a few secrecy laws. But then, what laws hadn't he broken, what with sneaking a Cyberman out of Canary Wharf and all.
"He's obviously taking the mickey out of us," Weasley decided suddenly. "Harry, give him the you-know-what."
The girl went tight-lipped and disapproving as Potter pulled a vial out of his pocket doubtfully. This, combined with the viscosity of the potion, led Ianto to one conclusion: "Veritaserum?" His voice was full of disbelief. "A bunch of twelve-year-olds up and stole Veritaserum?!" Now his voice wasn't so much disbelieving as it was indignant.
"Shuddup!" snarled the redhead. Ianto was beginning to worry about his stability. Although, right now he was too concerned over the whole truth-potion issue to care. They forced his jaws open and gave him a dose.
And then the questioning began.
"The fuck's Ianto?" Owen grumbled, head on the table and headache taking dominance over his soul.
Zacharias Smith was rather amused. "Where or what?" he asked, smirk evident in his voice. He liked being amused. If he wasn't amused, he was bored or annoyed, and neither of those were fun in the least. Not for him, anyway; his mother had professed to being terribly amused with his annoyed moods and the local police were very much amused by his boredom.
"Either, or, and!" Owen snapped.
"For the 'what', I'd have to go with Welsh," John Cadwallader broke in, grinning. "That explains everything."
"Oh, sod off," Zacharias said, flipping him the bird absently. "I think I saw some Gryffindors way-lay him on the way over," he told Owen. "I don't see them here, so I suppose he's still with them."
Owen's head snapped up, headache forgotten. "Which," he said suspiciously, "Gryffindors?"
"The redhead who looks off his rocker, the bushy-headed girl who talks a lot, and Harry-bloody-Potter," Zacharias counted off on his fingers, adding a bit of a sneer at the last one for an unknown reason.
"Oh hell," Owen said. "The Gryffindor Dream Team's kidnapped Ianto!"