AN: If you're reading this, I'm going to assume you've read Harry Potter so I'm not going to explain HP-related story elements. (If you haven't, STOP NOW. Go read the books. This little story is nothing.) My HP-world is built on canon (books, not movies) and from JKR's post-DH interviews (and from Pottermore if I ever get my frigging email!). Where I can't find a canon-based answer, I just make stuff up (because, hello, fanfiction?). Any mistakes in Potterverse are totally mine.

Same goes with Bones, although my Bones-world is based on the TV show, not the books by Kathy Reichs. If you've never seen Bones, go watch it (and feel free to hit the FF button in S6 when you see a blonde chick named Hannah). This story will include spoilers up through the finale of S6 but anything after that is just my imagination.

I don't own any of these characters, blah blah blah, except for the ones you don't recognize.

I hope you enjoy it. :-)

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"That's right, baby girl, just two more days." Booth sat on the bed with his back against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him and absently watched his wife wander around their hotel suite getting dressed for the evening's event, the phone held to his ear while he spoke to their daughter. "Of course we're bringing you a present . . . It's a surprise . . . If I tell you what it is, it won't be a surprise . . . Of course I already bought it . . . No, Mommy won't tell you, either . . . Yes, for the boys, too." A bark of laughter escaped him. "No, something different. Stop fishing, Mo, I'm not going to tell you." Catching Brennan's eye, he pointed to the phone. "Yep, she's right here. Love you, too, baby girl."

Brennan reached for the phone and sat down on the bed beside him, bending down to slide a shoe onto one foot. "Hello, Moira! . . . I also miss you very much. . . . No, we haven't been gone forever, just 3 days . . . Yes, two more . . . A very large plane . . . No, we're in a very nice hotel and I'm sure she is in one of her palaces . . . No, I don't know which one . . . I'm fairly certain you have to be invited first . . . Uncle Jack allowed Parker to drive which car?" Eyes wide, she turned toward Booth. "No, Aunt Angela was right, you are much too young to go with them . . . What kind of paint? . . . Is it removable? . . . The whole wall? . . . Where is Aunt Angela? . . . No, not right now, sweetheart, but after she takes the boys out of the bath, will you ask her to call me? . . . I love you, too . . . No, Daddy said it was a surprise . . . Yes, he really has it already . . . No, you can't pretend . . . A hint? Okay, you will like it very much." Her rich chuckle filled the room. "All right, I love you, too. Remember, ask Aunt Angela to call me. I love you, Moira. Goodbye."

She handed the phone to Booth, who took it with the hand that wasn't covering his eyes. "What car is Hodgins letting my 18-year old son drive?"

"Moira called it a Charger." Her head tilted curiously.

He groaned. "The '68 or the '71?"

"She's six, Booth. I'm surprised she remembered it was a Charger. Does it matter?"

"Yes!" he exclaimed, dropping his hand. "He hasn't let me drive the '68 yet!"

She leaned back on her hands, smiling at his exaggerated ire. "Don't you want to know about the paint?"

"Noooooo," he shook his head emphatically. "Whatever they did, they did at Angela and Jack's house and for two more days, it's their problem. Besides, they swore they could handle all six kids," he smirked. "So, they get to handle them." He paused. "Whose idea was it, did Mo say? Ours or theirs?" He shook his head. "Never mind. Let's blame theirs."

"I'm sure it was mutually agreed upon bad idea," she rolled her eyes. "But Michael and William are older so I agree. Let's blame them." Her gaze traveled over him appreciatively. "You look very handsome, by the way."

He gave her that wide grin that still managed to cause her breath to catch. "Handsome enough to stay in and skip tonight?" His brows wagged at her.

"As we are the guests of honor, our hosts might notice our absence," she answered with a smile of her own. He reached for her and tugged until she fell against his chest.

"You're the guest of honor. I'm the plus one."

She pressed a kiss on his chin. "You are my guest of honor, Booth. It's so much easier to attend these events when you're with me."

"Well, as long as I'm good for something," he lowered his head to steal a better kiss as a knock on the door in the other room interrupted the private moment. "Wanna bet that's someone else bringing you another "Welcome to England" gift?" he grumbled as she pulled out of his arms and stood up, smoothing her dress over her hips.

"Maybe it will be another bottle of scotch," she offered, laughing when he held up both hands, fingers crossed on each.

Expecting to see a member of the hotel staff, she was surprised and mildly curious as she looked out at the three visitors standing in the hallway.

"Dr. Brennan?" The question came from the woman in the group. Attractive, with sparkling brown eyes and thick, curly hair, she wore a friendly, if somewhat uncertain smile as she held out her hand. "My name is Hermione Granger-Weasley. I am so sorry to intrude on your evening," she offered, with a glance at Brennan's glitzy dress, "but we would appreciate a moment of your time, if possible. It is a matter of some urgency."

"Bones?" Booth stepped into the sitting area from the bedroom, staring at the three visitors suspiciously. Behind Hermione, Harry drew his wand inconspicuously, waggled the tip and produced a thin sheet of paper.

He came forward, offering the page. "We have a letter of introduction," he said as Booth took it from him with a snap.

His eyes skimmed it rapidly before he walked to the door and ushered them in, closing the door behind Ron. "Come on in," he said with a smile. "What can we do to help?"

Somewhat confused, Brennan looked from his friendly expression to their guests. "May I see that?" she asked, gesturing to the letter he held. When he handed it over, she looked up puzzled. "This is a blank piece of paper." She looked from it, to her husband, to Harry.

"No, Bones," Booth shook his head. With one finger, he traced down the plain white sheet. "See? Hermione Granger-Weasley, Ron Weasley, Harry Potter." He glanced up. "That's you guys?"

Harry stepped forward quickly, his hand outstretched. "Harry Potter, sir," he explained, "and this is Ron Weasley." Ron received the same firm handshake. "And of course, Hermione," who nodded with a smile.

"Excuse me," Brennan interrupted. "Booth, this paper is blank." She shook it until it rattled. "There are no names written here. There is nothing written here."

Hermione met Harry's eyes for a moment before he gave a barely perceptible shrug. Resigned, she faced Brennan. "I'm sorry for the confusion, Dr. Brennan. I would like to explain, if you'd allow me."

Frowning, the anthropologist shook her head. "I'm sorry, we have a prior engagement this evening," Brennan said firmly. "While I'm sure any explanation you might have would be fascinating, it would be best if we scheduled it for another time. If you'll leave a number where we can reach you, I'll call you if we have any available time before we leave." Her tone dismissive, she gestured to the door.

"We found a body . . . well, bones, really," Hermione spoke quickly. "We were . . . actually, Harry was preparing a spot of land for a monument to be raised when it was uncovered."

Brennan shook her head. "Then you should call Scotland Yard, or one of the local authorities. I have no jurisdiction here."

"They can't, Bones," Booth inserted. "Didn't you read the letter? The village is remote and secret. They don't want people crawling all over it."

Brennan stared at him, mouth open. "Booth, there's nothing here." She spoke very slowly, waving the paper in front of him. He looked at Harry and shrugged in a 'what are you going to do?' gesture.

Having been quiet to this point, Ron's deep voice surprised everyone. "You're going to have to tell her, Hermione."

"Tell me what?" Brennan demanded. "No, never mind. As I mentioned, we have a prior engagement so if you'll please . . ."

"There's no need to worry about the dinner, Dr. Brennan," Harry said. "We've made other arrangements." He considered her thoughtfully. "I think Ron's right, Hermione. We'll have to tell her."

"What do you mean, you've made other arrangements?" Brennan's voice rose in anger.

"You really should read the letter, Bones," Booth said, kicking off his shoes and relaxing into a thick armchair. "It's all in there."

She huffed in exasperation. "There is no letter!" she exclaimed, taking the blank paper in both hands and tearing it into small pieces that fluttered softly to the floor. Arms crossed against her chest, she stared at the three people facing her. "Oh, fine. I don't know what is happening here but obviously, you're not going to leave unless I listen to you. So, go ahead." She inclined her head regally. "Tell me whatever story it is that you have to tell me, and then leave."

Hermione shared an uncertain look with Ron and Harry. "Very well . . . erm . . . perhaps if you sat down . . ." Brennan stared back stonily. "Um . . . no, then . . . All right . . . I mentioned that we discovered a body . . . I mean, bones . . ."

"And as I said, you should inform the local authorities. I can't help you." Her voice was expressionless.

"That's not possible, Dr. Brennan," Hermione said apologetically. "The village is . . . remote and rather isolated. We don't get a lot of visitors and a situation like this . . . well, it's never happened before."

"No one has ever died in this village before?" she scoffed.

"Well, yes, of course, but this particular person . . . I believe he was killed with a gun. I thought I recognized a bullet hole." Hermione tapped the side of her head above her ear.

"You know the victim was male?" Brennan asked, one brow raised.

"What? Um . . . no, no we don't know who it is. That's why we need you."

"You said you believed 'he' was killed with a gun," Brennan repeated. "So you were just being imprecise."

Behind her, Harry and Ron exchanged a hidden smile. It was rare for Hermione to come up against someone who was even smarter than she was, and it obviously flustered her to be taken to task so firmly.

From his comfortable seat, Booth stretched out one long leg to tap Brennan with a sock-covered foot. "Go easy on the kid, Bones. She's not one of your squints."

She tossed back an irritated look before addressing Hermione again. "Regardless, murder by firearm is no longer as rare here in Britain as it used to be, Mrs. Granger-Weasley," Brennan said. "The local authorities won't be shocked."

Hermione chuckled oddly. "Actually, in this case, I think they would be."

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. "Look, mates," he said loudly, claiming Brennan and Booth's attention. "Here's the thing - Harry, Hermione and I are wizards. Well, Hermione is a witch, but you get the point. The bones we're talking about, they were found in Hogsmeade, which is the only all-wizard village in Britain. We can't bring in any Muggle just because someone snuffed it, now can we? You're supposed to be brilliant so we came to you."

Brennan and Booth stared at each other for a second before both burst out laughing. "Oh, it's a joke!" Brennan exclaimed when she caught her breath. "What is a Muggle? Did Pritchard put you up to this?" Still laughing, she turned to her husband. "Booth, did you know about this?"

"It's not a joke, Dr. Brennan," Hermione interrupted Booth's denial, her hesitation and uncertainty gone. "We are wizards and we do need your help. This is a rather serious situation." When the laughter continued, she reached in her pocket for her wand.

In a blur of movement, Booth's chuckle was silenced and he was out of the chair, pushing Brennan behind him, his fingers closing firmly around Hermione's wrist. "Slow there, honey," he said, hard brown eyes staring into hers.

Behind them, Ron cursed under his breath, drawing his own wand as he took a step toward the man threatening his wife. From the corner of her eye, Hermione registered his actions.

"No, Ron, don't!" she called out sharply, her eyes still locked with Booth. Beside Ron, Harry quietly drew his own wand, watching the room's occupants carefully.

With an irritated huff, Brennan stepped up beside Booth and gestured to his hand still locked around the other woman's wrist. "It's just a stick, Booth. Let her go." He dropped a quick glance to the thin piece of wood then released Hermione's hand slowly but stayed where he was, directly in front of her, so close she was somewhat uncomfortable. The fire that had flashed hot in his eyes was only nominally banked.

Hermione took a deep breath and backed up until she was flanked by Harry and Ron. "It's not a stick, Dr. Brennan. It's a wand." She held it out in front of her, sighing when the two Americans exchanged a scornful look. She pointed it at the scraps of paper lying on the floor. With a flutter of movement, the page reassembled itself seamlessly and slid through the air to Hermione's free hand. "I apologize for the attempt to mislead you with this. You're correct, it is blank." She took the few steps necessary to offer the paper to Brennan. "We had hoped to be able to persuade you to help us without revealing our secret, but that is obviously not possible."

Booth took the sheet from Brennan. "There was never a letter?"

"No, sir," Harry spoke.

"I don't believe in magic," Brennan spoke finally. "You've wasted your time. A few parlour tricks aren't going to convince me."

Harry shrugged and waved his wand at the chair Booth had been sitting in. With a roar of sound, it caught fire. The FBI agent yelled, pushing Brennan away from the flames, grabbing a throw from the back of a small settee and beating at the fire as smoke and sparks filled the room.

Just as suddenly, the blaze died away and the chair sat there innocently, unharmed and untouched. Booth froze with the small blanket held above his head.

Brennan shrugged. "I once saw a man make the Statue of Liberty disappear. That wasn't real, either."

Harry looked at Ron and Hermione with a grimace. "It worked for Dumbledore," he said with a glance at the now fire-free chair.

Booth walked around the chair, running a hand over the back and leaning forward to sniff suspiciously. "That sure looked real to me, Bones."

"Optical illusions can be very realistic," she said with a lift of her chin.

Hermione's eyes narrowed and her own chin raised. "Fine," she huffed. Before anyone could intercept her she raced forward, grabbing Brennan's hand then Booth's. With a loud pop, the three of them disappeared.

Harry and Ron looked at each other and then around the empty room.

Harry rocked back on his heels.

Ron whistled tunelessly.

"So, business good?" Harry asked.

"Yea. George wants to expand to America." He glanced at Harry. "Let's not let him talk to this bunch. That big bloke's a bit scary."

"A bit."

With another pop, Hermione, Booth and Brennan were back. The women's hair was tangled and fiercely windblown and Booth was pulling the length of his tie off his face while he yelled at Brennan.

"Tell her, Bones! Tell her now! Tell her you believe them! Now!"

Answering their unspoken question, Hermione smoothed her hair and spoke quietly to Ron and Harry. "The top of Big Ben."

Brennan pulled her hair from her mouth and brushed more away from her eyes and stared in frustration at Hermione.

"We can go back, Dr. Brennan," Hermione offered. "Or perhaps you'd like to choose somewhere else?" Booth stood between them when Hermione took one step in the other woman's direction.

"No!" His hands stretched between the two of them. "Tell her, Bones! Tell her before she puts us on top of Mt. Fuji!"

"Mt. Fuji is in Japan, Booth," she pointed out needlessly, an obstinate look on her face.

"Distance is no object," Hermione said, with an obstinate expression of her own. "Perhaps . . ."

"No!" Booth yelled again. "Bones!"

Brennan crossed her arms and huffed. "Fine. Alright, Mrs. Granger-Weasley, I concede. I don't understand how your actions are possible but I will admit there is something here I can't explain." She gave Hermione an arch look. "For now."

Hermione responded with a brilliant smile. "There is no explanation for magic, Dr. Brennan. That's why it's magic. And please, call me Hermione."

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