Author's Note: Hey all, I'm sorry it's been so long since I updated, but I had to study for finals. Speaking of which, they are finally over! Which is a HUGE relief for me! Thanks to all the people who took the time to read my stories, whether you reviewed them or not. Though a special thanks goes out to all those that did review! I can't tell you how much it means to me.
Anyway, enough of my rambling, on to the story!

Chapter Five

J. P. arrived back in his hotel room in a swirl of bright colors. Upon arriving, he promptly stumbled before tucking into a quick somersault. Standing up, he brushed himself off before glancing around the room. Having verified that he was indeed in the proper hotel room, J.P. flopped backwards onto the bed. 'Man alive! I don't know whether to check myself into a mental hospital or what!' he thought. Sitting up, he scrubbed his hands over his face fiercely, as if to rub away any cobwebs. 'Okay.' He thought. 'Come on, J.P., you've got to get a handle on yourself! Now get up and start using your brain like your dad taught you!' After that quick mental head slap, J.P. went to the desk and booted up his laptop computer. He had always been able to work through things more easily if he at least pretended to be talking to his father. He started typing an email to his dad explaining everything that had happened since he walked into the Leaky Cauldron.

Dear Dad,

I have had the weirdest day…

…and then, the old man, Albus Dumbledore said that the reason my birth parents were killed was because this dark wizard believed a prophecy that claimed I was the only one with the power to defeat him! I mean, what kind of nutjob believes in prophecies?! I know, I know, the same kind that believes in magic, right? But they proved the whole magic thing. I saw them levitate stuff, and even change (they called it transfiguring) a chair into a donkey! I don't know exactly what they want from me, but I suspect that the dark wizard isn't the only one that believes the prophecy. You wouldn't believe the looks of joy mixed with calculation that crossed their faces when I told them my name. It was like they had heard the messiah had returned and was under their complete control. Well, I say they, really it was only Headmaster Dumbledore and that Snape guy that were looking like the cat that ate the canary. The nurse (or "Healer"), Madame Pomphrey, seemed like a nice enough lady. I don't think she's in on all of the headmaster's plans though.

Anyway, after I heard that lovely little piece of news about the "prophecy" I knew I needed to get out of there as quickly as possible. I wouldn't put it past the old man to try and keep me by force. Although, from his descriptions of this Voldemort guy, I agree that he does need killing. I just don't know if I want to involve myself in this war. I suppose I'm going to need more information before deciding."

Glancing at the clock, J.P. realized it wasn't even time for dinner yet. Making a quick decision, he turned back to his typing.

"I may see if I can disguise myself and sneak back into that pub to gather some more intel.

If I don't contact you within 24 hours, you can assume that something has gone wrong. Hopefully it won't, but I'm not counting on it.

Love you!

J.P.

HPNCISHPNCISHPNCISHPNCISHPNCISHPNCISHPNCISHP

Agent Gibbs walked around his desk and sat down with a sigh. He and his team had just wrapped up a month long investigation, and he was looking forward to a little down-time. Sipping his coffee while waiting for his computer to boot up, Gibbs couldn't help but to remember the first time he ever saw his son. Shaking his head, he quickly reminded himself that Harry was now a full-grown young man and quite capable of taking care of himself. Still, even though Harry had a new name to go along with his adult status, Gibbs would always subconsciously think of him as the little boy he had rescued.

'Finally,' he thought as his computer screen came up. As always, the first thing he did was check to see if he had any new email. He quickly spotted the one from his son in between a reminder of the monthly senior agent meeting, and one of those ubiquitous spam emails. Ignoring all the others, he opened his son's email. As he read it, the other team members were surprised to see him go from laughing quietly, to a silence that grew increasingly tense the further he read. Once he finished reading the email, he checked the rest of his inbox carefully for another email from his son before glancing quickly at his watch, then to the clock on the wall that showed what time it was in London, before opening the email again to check the time-stamp. All this happened within fifteen minutes of his arrival, so Tony, Ziva, and McGee were all shocked to see him jump out of his chair, grab his badge and gun, and practically run up to the director's office. Overcome with curiosity, Tony snuck over to the Boss's desk and read the last few sentences of the email before checking the different clocks himself. He quickly calculated the time differential, and realized what had Gibbs in such a rush. J.P. had sent the email exactly 36 hours ago.