CHAPTER 14: A SURPRISE GUEST
O'Bannon checked over his shoulder as he tromped down the stairs, studying Jared's and Artimus' faces. Neither one smiled or said a word. They kept their gazes focused forward, their jaws set tightly. It was the look he'd hoped for after his speech yesterday. They'd gone from sorrow to determination. Or at least, they hid their sorrow well.
Like I'm doing.
He tried to steer his thoughts away from the Diggorys and focus on their mission. He prayed they'd find the rest of these suped-up Chupacabra, or at the very least learn how the one he killed had been mutated. Lupin apparently spent all day yesterday at the Hurst Green safe house with Hagrid examining the creature. O'Bannon figured he was still there since he hadn't returned to the Burrow before he went to bed.
You'd think they'da found something by now.
He entered the kitchen with Jared and Artimus in tow. Harry, Ron, Bill and Mr. Weasley were already eating. Actually, Harry just rolled a sausage link back and forth on his plate with his fork.
O'Bannon frowned. He'd bet anything Harry still took the Diggorys' murder pretty hard, probably harder than the rest of them considering everything he'd gone through with that family.
"How're ya holding up, Harry?" He slapped the boy's shoulder as he sat next to him.
"Huh?" Harry looked up with a start. "Oh, sorry. I was just . . . just thinking."
"Anything in particular?" O'Bannon asked as Jared and Artimus sat across from them.
Harry's lips twisted. "Just about these Chupacabra. What Voldemort's up to with them. I spent half the night lying in bed, trying to figure this whole thing out. Trying to do something useful instead of just sitting here doing nothing while people are out there dying." He scowled and jammed his fork into his sausage.
"Harry." Mr. Weasley aimed a sympathetic look his way. "I know you want to help, and I know you feel horrible over what happened to the Diggorys. But you have to believe we're doing everything we can to find the rest of these things. But you know you're You-Know-Who's number one target. We can't afford to put you in harm's way."
Harry slowly inhaled. His cheeks reddened. He looked ready to let Mr. Weasley know exactly what he thought of that.
"So, come up with any theories on our Chupacabra problem?" O'Bannon jumped in before Harry could open his mouth.
The boy looked at him. The tense air around him seemed to dissipate.
"Who has theories about the Chupacabra?"
O'Bannon's eyes darted toward the kitchen entrance when he heard Rosa's voice. She walked to the table with the twins and Ginny. It didn't escape his notice that Rosa and George held hands.
Wonder what Mrs. Weasley thinks of that.
Considering what Fleur was like, he wouldn't be surprised if Mrs. Weasley dragged Rosa and George into the living room right now, started planning their wedding and insisting Rosa call her mom . . . or mum.
"Perfect timing, guys. Our favorite Chosen One was brainstorming this problem all night long. So pull up a chair and let's hear what he has to say."
The newcomers took their seats, their attention squarely on Harry Potter. He sucked on his lower lip, drew a breath, and started.
"Well, it's like Jimmy said. They're just theories. I mean, I could be wrong."
"Or you could be spot on." Ginny gave him a supportive smile. "So why don't you do what Jimmy says and fill us all in."
Harry noticeably sat up straighter. His eyes lingered on Ginny for a few moments before he spoke. "Um, well. You guys," he looked around at the Americans, "said that these Chupacabra almost never get over four feet tall. So, I thought, maybe Voldemort used a Growth Potion on it."
A long whistle escaped Bill's lips. "I don't know, Harry. A Growth Potion is extremely difficult to brew. One of the main ingredients is three strands of hair from the head of a giant. It's not like they're going to give that up voluntarily."
"Yeah, we learned about that potion in our Fifth Year," Jared stated. "We never brewed it because our teacher could never get enough giant hairs for the whole class, so we just wrote an essay on it."
"I remember that." O'Bannon nodded. "One of the best grades I ever got in Potions. I can write about them, no prob. Mixing them, however . . ."
"Yeah." Jared broke into a huge grin. "I bet if you tried mixing a Growth Potion, you would have blown up half of Salem."
"Blow this, dipstick." O'Bannon flipped him the bird.
"Jimmy!" Mrs. Weasley glowered at him, hands on her hips.
"Huh? Oh. Um, sorry, Mrs. Weasley." He lowered his head and stared at the table cloth.
"It may be tough for most wizards to get giant hair," Harry continued, "but not Voldemort, since he's been recruiting them."
"Harry does have a good point," Ginny noted.
Harry swallowed visibly as he stared at her.
"It's certainly worth taking a look at." Mr. Weasley turned to Harry. "I'll bring it up with Remus."
"Thank you, Mr. Weasley."
"So is that your only theory?" Ginny canted her head. "You said you stayed up half the night thinking. You must have more."
"Yes, well, something else has been bothering me. No one mentioned any damaged to the Diggorys' house."
"Well, there was some overturned furniture and busted knickknacks," Rosa informed him. "But nothing real bad."
"That's not what I meant. I mean, damage to the outside. Like windows or doors."
"No." Artimus shook his head. "They were all intact."
"So how did the Chupacabra get in?" He scanned the people at the table, as if hoping one of them would suddenly provide the correct answer.
"I seriously doubt the Diggorys would have opened the door and invited this thing in for tea and crumpets," Jared said.
"Could it have Apparated inside?" Harry wondered aloud.
"Not a chance." Rosa shook her head. "The only beings that can Apparate are humans and elves. Even so, all magical households have wards that prevent anyone from Apparating directly inside."
Harry slowly bobbed his head from side to side. "What about walking through walls, like ghosts do."
"Oo!" O'Bannon's hand snapped up. "Or more like Kitty Pryde from the X-Men."
Everyone in the kitchen gave him perplexed looks.
"Oh. Um, it's a Muggle comic book. She can phase and walk through solid objects."
"I do know there were some wizards and witches centuries ago who tried to come up with spells to do just that."
All eyes turned to Bill as he continued. "There was a lot of trial and error, and the error part was, um, rather messy. After a while they abandoned the idea all together. Never heard of anyone else picking up where they left off."
"I wouldn't put it past Voldemort to try and perfect a spell like that." Harry slumped in his seat. "I wish Hermione were here. I bet she'd be able to figure this out."
O'Bannon noticed Ron stopped chewing his food at the mention of the bushy-haired know-it-all's name.
"Well then," Ginny piped up. "Why don't we bring here?"
Ron's eyes widened. Ginny folded her arms and fixed her brother with a sly gaze.
O'Bannon's eyes darted back and forth between the two. He thought back to Ginny's statement a couple days ago about how Ron and Hermione had the hots for one another. Given the guy's mortified expression at Ginny's suggestion, he wondered if there could be something to this.
He closed his eyes and winced. Ron and Hermione. For the life of him he couldn't comprehend it. You couldn't get more polar opposite than those two. If by some quirk of universal fate those two ever became an item, what was next? Dean Thomas and . . . Pansy Parkinson?
"Well, brilliant as Hermione is," Mr. Weasley began, "the Order does have people older and more experienced who are looking into this matter."
"Still, where's the harm in bringing her in?" O'Bannon shrugged.
Jared's brow furrowed. "Seriously, Jimmy? I thought you didn't like her."
"I never said I didn't like her. Okay, we never hung out when I was at Hogwarts, and there were times she was a pain in the a . . ." He glanced at Mrs. Weasley, who shot him a stern look. "Um . . . butt. Anyway, regardless how I feel about her, you gotta admit the girl's a brainiac. Even some of the kids and teachers at Hogwarts called her 'the brightest witch of her age.'"
Rosa snorted. "Yeah, and if you don't believe it you can just ask her."
"Oh, Rosa." Ginny frowned at her. "You really should give Hermione a chance. She's actually a wonderful person once you get to know her."
Rosa just rolled her eyes. O'Bannon doubted she had any desire to get to know Hermione. He remembered back to the Longathian Tunnel affair how both girls vehemently butted heads on how to deal with the security trolls outside Umbridge's office. They could have argued forever if he hadn't have stepped in.
"Anyway," O'Bannon pressed on. "Even though she's around our age, Hermione always struck me as . . . well, drawing a parallel with the Muggle world, she's like those whiz kids I see in news stories every once in a while. You know, the ones who graduate from MIT when they're sixteen or seventeen."
Everyone gave him queer looks.
"What's M-I-T?" Ron asked.
"'Mit', isn't it?" George responded. "But I thought it was spelled with two T's. And why would Muggles graduate from a big glove?"
O'Bannon slapped his forehead. "M-I-T. Massachusetts Institute of Technology. It's probably one of the best schools in the world when it comes to science and engineering."
"Tick-nil-gee? Injin-ring?" Mr. Weasley leaned forward, his eyes lit up. "So do they have all sorts of Muggle gadgets there? Do you think you could get hold of some of them? Or send me photographs, perhaps? Or maybe a tour . . ."
Mrs. Weasley slapped her husband upside the head. "Arthur! Focus!"
"Sorry, dear." He gave his wife a sheepish look.
"What can it hurt?" O'Bannon shrugged. "It's one more person who can help. And right now I think we need all the help we can get."
"I don't think we should be dragging the younger ones into this." Molly shook her head.
"Sure." Ginny's forehead wrinkled. "Just keep us locked away in our rooms, playing Exploding Snap, while everyone else does the important work."
"Oh, listen to you." Mrs. Weasley fixed her gaze on her daughter. "Fight a few Death Eaters at the Ministry and you think you can do anything. How many times do I have to remind you that you were all bloody well lucky to come out of that alive?" She shot brief glances at Harry and Ron as she spoke.
"Look, Mrs. Weasley," O'Bannon said. "I'm not talking about sending Hermione out in the field. We can put her in a room here, fill it with books and let her research away to her heart's content. And Harry, Ginny and Ron can help her, too."
Harry and Ginny nodded so adamantly he thought the two would snap their necks. He couldn't blame them. Those two had been chomping at the bit since day one to help out in some way. He figured Ron felt the same, though he only grunted in agreement with his sister and best friend.
Mrs. Weasley folded her arms and worked her jaw back and forth. Seconds later she exhaled loudly. "All right, then. But just research, nothing more. Understand?"
Everyone nodded.
Satisfied, Mrs. Weasley unfolded her arms. "Right then. I guess I'd better fix up another cot."
XXXXX
O'Bannon and Artimus Disapparated behind a row of hedges along a residential street in Keynsham, just outside Bristol. He peered around the hedges and scanned the neighborhood. Brick houses, most of them two stories, lined the street. He glanced at the sign post to his left. DAVERFORD LANE.
"This is it." He waved for Artimus to follow.
The two strode down the sidewalk. O'Bannon constantly checked around him. He didn't really expect You-Know-Who or any of his Death Eaters to pop up in the middle of a Muggle neighborhood in the middle of the morning, but as the fake Moody constantly stressed at his Defense Against the Dark Arts class at Hogwarts, "Constant Vigilance!"
The house numbers ascended as they continued down the street. 611, 613, 615.
They slowed when they passed 615 Daverford Lane. O'Bannon didn't even bother checking the numbers of the next house. The mailbox at the end of the driveway boasted a hand-carved wooden sign with blue and white images of what he assumed to be tooth fairies surrounding two words.
THE GRANGERS.
"How appropriate." He grinned and shook his head at the sign.
"What do you mean?" Artimus shot him a perplexed look.
"The sign with the tooth fairies." He pointed to it. "Hermione's parents are both dentists."
"What are dentists?"
"They fix teeth . . . or pull them out."
"They pull out teeth?" Artimus' eyes widened. "Why in the world would they do that?"
"Well, if a tooth is loose or something they gotta pull it out. And speaking from experience it can be kinda painful."
"And Muggles go to these dentist people willingly?" Artimus gaped. "They have to be out of their minds."
"It ain't the most fun thing in the world, but sometimes you gotta do it. C'mon. Let's go see if they're home."
They bounded up the small flight of steps. O'Bannon pressed the door bell and stepped back.
The seconds passed. The door remained closed.
He tried the door bell again. C'mon, Herms.
Still no one opened the door.
"Looks like no one's home," Artimus said. "What now?"
"Come back later, I guess. They gotta come home eventually."
They started down the steps.
"Are you two looking for the Grangers?"
They looked to the right. An elderly woman with a pale wrinkled face peered overtop the hedges bordering the Grangers' front yard.
O'Bannon opened his mouth and froze. One word and he'd give himself away as an American. He doubted this neighborhood got a lot of teenage visitors from the States. It didn't matter that the people here knew nothing about the current Wizarding War. He and his friends were supposed to keep their presence in Britain on the QT, not do anything to stand out.
Well then, I'll just blend in.
"Yes, we are," he responded in the best British accent he could muster. "We're friends of Hermione's from school. Just happened to be in the neighborhood and thought we'd pop in for a quick hello."
"Oh what rotten luck on your part." The elderly neighbor frowned. "They're not at home."
"Do you know when they'll be back?"
"Not for another week, dear. The family's gone on holiday. Spain, I believe."
"Oh." His face fell. What rotten luck indeed. "Well then. I guess we'll just see Hermione when we get back to school, then. Thank you, ma'am. Cheerio."
The woman smiled back at them.
O'Bannon turned and started back down the walkway, followed by Artimus. They waited until they got halfway down the block before talking.
"So much for this brilliant plan," he spoke in his normal Boston-accented voice.
"Yeah. By the way, Jimmy. That was a really good British accent."
"Thanks. It's really not that hard to do after you've lived in this country for nearly a year. And also years of watching Doctor Who and Monty Python doesn't hurt."
"So what do we do now?"
"Soldier on without her." O'Bannon shrugged. "Not much we can do."
"We could send her a patronus message. Spain should be just within range for one."
"Unfortunately, there are a lot of problems with that. What if Hermione and her parents are around other Muggles when the patronus shows up? Also, I don't think Mr. and Mrs. Granger would react very well to us asking their daughter to help track down some bloodthirsty monster."
"Oh, yeah. You're right." Artimus frowned and hung his head.
O'Bannon twisted his lips. He hated shooting down Art like that. The poor guy grew up with a father and two older brothers who did nothing but question his worth as a human being. No surprise he was lacking in the self-esteem department. But Art had made strides in that area over the last year, holding his own in their battles in Ovenderburg and here in England, and telling his father to piss up a rope – not his exact words – when that jagoff ordered him to come work for the family business. Despite those strides, Artimus still didn't take it well when someone told him he was wrong, even though O'Bannon did it in a much more constructive and respectful way than Ulysses Rand ever could.
"Don't worry about it." He slapped Artimus on the shoulder. "Any other time we probably could have done it."
A brief smile crossed his lips.
They walked in silence until they reached the hedge row at the intersection they'd Disapparated behind. That's when Artimus turned to him. "I really wish Hermione had been home. As smart as you say she is, she probably would have figured something out."
"Maybe. But since she's not around, I guess we go back to throwing out every wild ass theory we can and see what sticks."
"You don't think Harry's theories were good?"
O'Bannon's head bobbed from side to side. "Who knows? Maybe he's on to something, maybe not. I don't know. We'll probably have to wait until Lupin and Hagrid are finished examining the Chupacabra we killed. I can't believe it's taking them this long."
"I know. I'm curious to know how it could have gotten into the house before it set off any of the wards. I mean, yeah, regular Chupacabra can get through a lot of typical household wards because they're considered pests, not dark creatures. Sort of like garden gnomes."
O'Bannon nodded. He drew a breath and stared at the ground, mulling over Artimus' words.
"Jimmy? Jimmy! You okay?"
His head snapped up. Artimus gazed at him with a bewildered look. "What is it?"
"What you said about Chupacabra. How they're like garden gnomes, that they can get past a lot of wards. What if that's why You-Know-Who wanted these things in the first place? Crap! The Guild totally got this wrong. I'll bet you anything You-Know-Who wasn't planning to use them to just kill cows and goats and ramp up the fear level in this country. He wanted to turn them into some kind of super killing machine. The kind that can slip past most wards to get at their victims."
Artimus let out a slow whistle. "Imagine what he could do with creatures like that."
"Yeah. Scary, isn't it?"
"Yeah, but . . . uh . . ."
O'Bannon canted his head, waiting for Artimus to continue. When he didn't, he rotated his hands in front of him. "C'mon, Art. Out with it."
"It's just . . . I mean, if You-Know-Who transformed the Chupacabra from a pest to something that can kill wizards, that would have taken a lot of dark magic. That Chupacabra would become a dark creature. Then the wards around the Diggorys' house would have picked it up a lot sooner than they did. We . . . we might have been able to save them."
O'Bannon looked off to the side, thinking. "What if these Super Chupacabra have some way to conceal whatever dark magic made them the way they are?"
"I don't know, Jimmy. Concealing dark magic is next to impossible. I mean, I remember some curses discussed in Magical Theory class that might be able to do that, but none of them were ever proven to work."
"And remember History of Magic. How many spells and curses did You-Know-Who come up with during the first war that a lot of people said were impossible to do?"
"Yeah. I guess if there is someone who could successfully conceal dark magic it's him."
"Comforting thought, isn't it?" O'Bannon frowned. "Aw well, just a couple more theories we can run by Lupin or Tonks, see what they think. Way to go, man."
"Thanks, Jimmy." Artimus smiled wide.
O'Bannon returned the grin before the two Apparated back to the Burrow. They just started to the front door when Mr. Weasley came out.
"Sorry, Mr. Weasley," O'Bannon said. "Looks like Hermione and her family are on vacation. No way we can reach them now."
"No need to worry. You're timing is impeccable. I was just about to contact you by patronus."
"What's up?" A second after he asked that, several sharp cracks split the air around him and Artimus. Rosa, Jared and the twins suddenly appeared. They were followed seconds later by Tonks and Mad-Eye Moody.
"It appears Remus has found out quite a bit about these altered Chupacabra. Even better, we may have found a way to kill them."
O'Bannon drew an excited breath. Finally, some good news.
"Everyone, inside." Mr. Weasley waved them forward. "We're about to have a special Order meeting."
They hurried down the dirt path and into the Burrow, making a bee line for the kitchen. Mr. Weasley was the first to enter, followed by O'Bannon. He spotted Remus Lupin standing at the other end of the table. Next to him was an enormous man with dark hair and a thick beard.
"Hagrid!"
"'ello there, Jimmy. Been a while since I've seen you."
He was about to say something else when he detected another figure beside the half-giant. His chest clenched when he noticed the black robes, the pale unsmiling face, and the black greasy hair.
No . . . friggin' . . . way.
Glaring at him from across the kitchen was none other than Professor Severus Snape.
TO BE CONTINUED
AUTHOR'S NOTE: The Dean/Pansy reference is my little shout out to WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot and her fic "Living In Hell." If you haven't checked this story out, do so!