CHAPTER I

Fantasy, Meet Science Fiction

Monday, September 22, 2008... 6:57pm

After a full week of observing the Witwicky household, Agatha was convinced none of them were magical in any way. The wards typically applied to a wizard's dwelling were obviously missing, and Ronald was painfully oblivious to the gnome infestation developing in the back corner of his precious yard.

The car almost never moved from its home in the garage outside of Samuel driving it to and from school. At first, she hadn't been sure if the vehicle was really enchanted or not, but after catching the boy talking to it on several occasions, she felt inclined to believe it was bewitched. There was also a small incident involving a scratch on the passenger side door. A careless student had swiped the Camaro with her own car door while leaving the school on an open period, and before school let out, the scratch somehow repaired itself.

Agatha swiped a stray lock of hair from her eyes and rang the doorbell. Immediately, a dog began to bark in highly pitched yelps from inside.

"Mojo," a muffled voice hissed. "Mojo – quiet!"

The door flung open, abruptly shut before a yapping chihuaha could pelt itself at her leg, and then opened again a few moments later. Samuel Witwicky stuck his head out the door.

"Can I help you?" he asked. His voice was quick and unsmiling, despite the nervous quirk of his lips, though the detective did not get the impression he was unfriendly.

She flashed her muggle police badge at him. "Samuel Witwicky?"

A few interesting things happened in the span of about two seconds; the boy's face paled drastically and he shot a frantic look over his right shoulder – toward the garage, Agatha noted – before fixing a very fake smile on his lips and nodding at her.

"I'm Detective Agatha Thomas," she replied, acting as though nothing was wrong, "I need to speak with your parents. Are they home?"

"Uh, well, no." The boy winced and changed his mind. "I mean yes! Yes, they are home... my mom is..."

"Sam, honey?"

"Mom! The door's for you!" he hollered. He opened the door further, clearly reluctant to let the police officer in, and stepped aside.

It was only as she walked across the threshold did Agatha see the struggling Mojo clenched in the crook of Samuel's arm. The little dog was growling quietly at her. She poked him with a modified stunner. If Sam noticed the small exchange between his dog and Agatha, he certainly didn't show it.

The teen's cell phone began to play an annoying little jingle. From the way he flipped it open and punched at the buttons, she figured it was probably a text message. His eyes flicked nervously from her to the garage again.

High-heeled shoes clacked on hardwood floors as Judith Witwicky entered the foyer. She was in the middle of drying wet hands with a towel. The smile on her face was pleasant enough, until Agatha began to introduce herself as a police detective; her eyes first widened and then narrowed, she glanced suspiciously at her son, and then immediately began asking what he and 'that car' had been getting up to now.

"Mom!" Sam exclaimed, his tone an amusing mix of accusation and betrayal. "We haven't done anything – "

"It's interesting that you should mention your son's car," Agatha cut in. "Look, Mrs Witwicky, neither of you are in trouble. I'm here to investigate reports of a stolen vehicle, and your son's car fits the description perfectly." She gave herself a mental pat on the back for quick thinking. "I know your son didn't steal it, but it's looking more and more like the dealership he purchased it from did. Can you help me out? I just need to ask you a few questions."

Sam's cell phone began to jingle again. He ignored it. He and his mother seemed to be locked in a staring contest.