"I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding, if you will please come with us, we can get this matter cleared up quickly," the taller man stated.

"Fine. Whatever." J.P. said as he shrugged out of the man's grasp. "Let's go."

Chapter Three

Instead of heading out the front door as J. P. expected, the two men guided him towards a door at the back that he hadn't even noticed. As they stepped outside, J.P. came to a halt to give his eyes time to adjust to the bright sunlight. He turned to the men, about to ask what he had done wrong, when he saw that they both were holding long polished sticks that were currently pointed at him. J. P. immediately tensed.

"All right, just take it easy, we have to bring you to Headquarters," the tall black man said.

"Why? Who are you? And what does all this have to do with me?! I'm an American citizen for goodness' sake!"

"Everything will be explained to you at Headquarters. Now, please don't make us use force."

J.P. examined the man who had just spoken closely. His instincts told him that this was a man trained and ready to fight, so he decided to try one more time for a peaceful solution.

"Just tell me what I'm being arrested for. That's all I'm asking," he calmly asked.

"I'm sorry, but I can't answer your questions here. You have to come with us to Headquarters."

'Well, I tried,' J.P. thought. He quickly twisted out of the man's grasp and took off down the alley. He had nearly reached the corner when he wondered why they weren't pursuing him. He got his answer when he felt a blow to his back, followed by encroaching darkness. 'Man, all I wanted was something to eat!' was all he had time to think before everything went black and he sank into unconsciousness.

HP NCIS HP NCIS HP NCIS HP NCIS HP NCIS HP NCIS HP NCIS HP NCIS HP

"Where'd he…from?"

"… is he?"

"He looks so much like…"

As his mind slowly cleared, J.P. could hear several voices all around him. Remaining completely still, he tried to ascertain where he was and in what condition. He could feel cool cotton sheets beneath him, so he was on a bed. His wrists and ankles were bound, but not uncomfortably tight. There were several people in the room with him, including at least one female, so he decided against attempting an escape right then. Finally, deciding that there was nothing left to do, J.P. opened his eyes just a crack. He hoped to be able to get a better idea of what he was up against before letting his captors know that he was awake, but that plan was quickly demolished when he met the coldest, blackest pair of eyes he had ever seen.

"He's awake."

The sharp tone cut through the chatter like a laser through fog.

Giving up any hope of subtlety, J.P. opened his eyes fully and gazed around the room.

He was indeed on a bed in a medium-sized bedroom. There were three people standing around the bed looking down at him. The man who had alerted the others to his waking, stood to his right. He was tall and thin, with shoulder-length black hair, and pale complexion. His eyes were black as coal, and his expression was one of wary disgust.

To J.P.'s left stood a woman of average height, warm eyes, and graying hair. From the way she behaved, he surmised that she was a nurse of some kind.

At the foot of the bed stood the most outrageous looking character J.P. had ever seen. He had a full head of snow-white hair, and a beard that fell all the way to his waist. His eyes were china blue and twinkled as if someone had sprinkled fairy dust on them. But the most outrageous thing about him was his clothes. He wore full-length robes that kept changing color. In the few minutes since J.P. had first seen them, they had cycled through every shade of orange, red, yellow, or any combination thereof, that one could imagine. As if that weren't enough, there were stars and moons scattered all over the old man's robes that cycled through every imaginable shade of purple in tandem with the shifts of the background color. Already J.P. could feel a headache coming on.

A quickly muffled snort of amusement snapped him out of his color-induced haze. Glancing to his right, J.P. could see the black-haired man had switched from an expression of disgust to one of controlled amusement.

His analysis of the man's facial expressions was interrupted by the old man.

"Hello! My name is Albus Dumbledore! This is Professor Snape, and this lovely lady is Madame Pomfrey. Can you tell us who you are?"

His tone was gentle and friendly, but J.P. could detect the underlying note of steel that indicated the question would be answered, whether he liked it or not.

"Private H.J.P. Gibbs. Serial number—"

"Oh, dear," Dumbledore interrupted. "You're in the muggle military? I'm afraid that we don't have much use for serial numbers and the like. Can't you just give us your name? That's all we want."

J.P. paused and considered. They didn't sound like any terrorist group he had heard of, and it wasn't like his name was classified or anything. Besides, he had already given them most of it.

"My name is Harry James Potter Gibbs. But I go by J.P."

The silence that fell after he finished speaking immediately made him nervous. The gobsmacked expressions on all three faces made him even more nervous.

"What? Do you have some kind of problem with my name?" J.P. demanded.

"And while I have the opportunity, why am I tied up? Are you holding me for ransom? Because if you are, you should know that the U.S. Government doesn't negotiate with terrorists."

The implication that they were terrorists seemed to wake them from their shock.

"Oh, no, my dear boy, we aren't terrorists! We merely wanted to speak with you!" The old man's twinkle was back in full force, but he wasn't going to deter J.P. from getting some answers.

"So, you wanted to speak with me, huh? Well, generally it's not considered polite to knock someone out and tie them up just to speak with them. The socially accepted method is to ask, politely, for an appointment," he said sarcastically.

"Now, would you PLEASE untie me!" he growled.

"Only if you promise to hear us out. Just give us one hour. Then we will let you go, and you can choose whether or not to ever contact us again." Dumbledore bargained.

J.P. sighed in exasperation. He didn't think he would be able to escape on his own, and no one would realize he was missing until the end of his two-week leave. He might as well hear what these kooks had to say, and then he would high-tail it back to the base.

"Fine. I promise to listen to what you have to say, but I don't promise I'll believe you. And I'm out of here as soon as the hour's up." He warned.

"Splendid!" Dumbledore exclaimed, then, pulling out a polished stick, he waved it in J.P.'s direction and suddenly his restraints were gone.

J.P. sat up slowly, rubbing his wrists, and said, "Well, let's get this over with, then."