Operation CoJacks
Viopathartic
Emma Granger sat in her office, a half-bitten peanut butter and jelly sandwich in her hands. She chewed with a leisurely pace and stared at nothing in particular. She happened to notice that her painting was crooked when her eyes swept the room. The carpet needed to be redone. Brown spots covered various areas where she accidentally spilled her coffee and the sight of them made her nauseous. The walls would probably need replacement too; a room can never have mismatched walls and carpets. Emma was thinking wood but her husband, Dan, wanted plain wall paper. Wood would cost more but--
Why would Hermione want Ben's address?
Clearing her throat, she set the sandwich down and backed her chair away from the desk. She busied herself with reorganizing her books, her back turned away from the picture frames that were perched on her desk. The reason why she did so was because Ben was present in nearly half of them. Ben Lester is her oldest brother--her only brother. He was the boy who protected her from jeers and teasing which usually included nonsense about her hair. He was the boy who chased her old boyfriends away (though at that time she despised Ben for it) and threatened them if they ever tried to get back together with his sister. And he was the man who set off to some faraway business in the town of London, only coming back home to greet his sister and her family on holidays.
She loved Ben, she really did. But sometimes, Emma wonders if he loved her back. His quiet nature always infuriated Emma and at certain moments she wanted to shout at him to tell his secret. She found it odd how he never discussed work with her or mention any of his girlfriends. How he'd always promise to write and to call her, but never keep his promise. How every time she tried to call him, no one answers.
It was like her brother appears once in a while and later vanishes off the face of Earth.
Hermione called her a few hours ago and suddenly asked for Ben's address. Surprised beyond comprehension, Emma put her daughter on hold and sat in her chair for a while. Did Hermione know something that she doesn't know? If so, why won't she tell her mother or father?
The hours dragged on while the clinic emptied and refilled with patients. Toothaches, root canal, and usual routines passed through Emma's mind without a single thought. Dan had asked several times if she was alright, but she'd always reassured him with one of her smiles.
Emma was in her office again, using a headache as an excuse, and she was holding Ben's current phone number in her hands. With hesitancy, she dialed the 10 digits and his area code and listened as the shrill ringing reached her ears.
Ring.
She twisted the phone cord around her fingers, moving around the corner of her desk.
Ring.
The painting was still crooked. She'd have to fix that.
Ring.
Come on, Ben. Please, she thought.
We're sorry. The number you had just dialed is invalid. Please try again.
Emma Granger put down her phone and the room was silent.
The prime minister let out a growl of frustration and slammed the remote onto the floor. The device bounced into the air and crashed below with crack
"...authorities are continuing investigation at this very moment, but no clue has turned up. The department are utterly baffled at the scene of the crime. The security system was found to be undamaged and the locks of every door and window in the home of Evelyn Turpin were locked from the inside. Investigators say they found her with her husband and one of their children in the living quarters. All were dead. An autopsy will be performed sometime today. This is Kate Morgenroth, WFIS. Back to you, Jim."
The prime minister pinched the ridge of his nose in frustration and sat down in his chair. Kingsley Shacklebolt watched his "boss" and said nothing.
"So you think this is the work of V-You-Know-Who?"
"We know for sure."
"But why attack Evelyn? She worked for me as an assessor. She had nothing to do with all this magic nonsense!" The minister shouted as he jumped to his feet, but a realization dawned as he did so. In a quiet, weary manner he asked, "Was she a witch?"
"No," The British prime minister sat back down, relieved, "but her daughter is. Lisa is currently at our Ministry of Magic."
"B-but she was killed--!"
"One of their children, the woman had said. Lisa's younger sister was killed." Shacklebolt answered with his voice solemn.
"Dear Lord, but what have we done to You-Know-Who. We were fine until-until he came back. Why did you not stop him?" The prime minister shouted at the Auror, even though he knew it was impossible. Lord Voldemort, Rufus Scrimengour had told him, was an evil, ruthless man. Every man and woman who crossed his path was dead.
Only until Harry Potter.
"You know very well why we can't. We are just as vulnerable as your muggles. Even if we combined all of our powers, Voldemort would still be able to defeat us. Our world is falling apart, Mr. Prime Minister. All of the families stay inside, businesses are closing down, and even Hogwarts will close for the term! Don't blame it on us."
The prime minster gazed contemptuously at the wizard, but did not argue.
"Where is this boy, this Harry Potter?"
Kingsley lost his fierce demeanor and his face clouded in shame. "We don't know."
"WHAT?"
"Your muggle police were notified of certain disturbances at the home of Harry Potter. Since our business concerns Potter's business, we followed your police. Once we got rid of the muggles, we found the Dursleys. Alive, but with a dead body in the master bedroom. They mumbled nonsense of all sorts and only told us of the assassin."
At the moment, the prime minister felt as if he was in a very suspenseful movie where the answer seemed impossible to find.
"The work of Voldemort?" asked the muggle, ignoring the wizard's flinch.
"No. His guardians had said he left with the man at will. Potter wanted to go."
"Where?"
"We're not sure."
"But don't you need him?" He shouted incredulously, "The boy's supposed to defeat this evil man and save the world."
"Potter isn't the type to just abandon something. He'll come back soon." The phone rang and the prime minister was quick to answer it. Shacklebolt turned away, reached for the doorknob, and once he exited the room, he let out a deep breath.
At least we hope he comes back.
Harry noticed that he had dimples when he smiled. Funny, all his life he never really cared how he looked. It was a smile after all. But as he stood in front of the bathroom mirror at the moment, he found that his face looked a little weird. Harry changed his expression to a frown, noting how his eyebrows scrunched together and wrinkles formed below his chin. When he replaced the frown with a look of shock, his eyes widened and his mouth stretched open.
With a sigh, Harry decided he would work on the technique Slit had mentioned later on. The textbooks he received in class needed to be read, and it was nearly seven. Classes start at seven in the morning tomorrow.
That leaves me with nearly 4 hours to study and to sleep. I need at least eight…
"What are you doing?"
Harry was interrupted from his thinking, and he twisted around to where the voice had come from. Seeing who it was, he turned to face the mirror, answering in a chilled tone, "Nothing."
"What's this?" Through the mirror, Harry saw Jasper bending down to pick up something…the letter!
"Drop it!" He quickly exited the bathroom to retrieve Hermione's letter, worrying she might have cast a security charm on it, but also annoyed at his self for leaving something like this unattended.
"Hey, I'm not five, you know!"
"Yeah, that's right, you're two," mumbled Harry, snatching the parchment right out of Jasper's hand. The man scowled and returned to his own activities. After looking over his shoulders to check that no one was around, Harry sat down on his bed.
For one, he was glad that Hermione was not extremely angry at him and accepted (well, not really since she promised him a hex) that he had gone away for a worthy reason. Something inside him soared when he read her apology. He agreed that last year was not the highlight of his and her friendship. They bickered constantly; almost like Ron and Hermione, which scared him sometimes. They used to be close, but jealousy and the prospect of growing up had created a rift between each other.
When Hermione mentioned the Horcruxes, Harry realized with a start how the missing pieces had not crossed his mind since he arrived in the morning. While he was living with the Dursleys, he would memorize missing pieces, chanting it in his mind, telling himself that he will find it. Knowing that he still had Hermione to help with such a difficult task proved the bond the two had-still-shared.
He read the end of the paragraphs she had written, almost completely overlooking her post script.
P.S: My uncle works at the address you're at. Do you know a Ben Lester?
If her uncle works here, does that mean…?" Harry decided not to dwell on it and figured he would find out tomorrow.
After he finished the letter, Harry carefully folded the paper until it fit perfectly in his palm and tucked it inside his pillowcase. Then, he grabbed one of the large textbooks, noticing the title "Ballistics" in bold, and sighed.
This is gonna to be a long night…
Hermione dog-eared her current book and set it aside. She jotted down a few details as her Kneazle following her scurrying feather pen with narrow, yellow eyes. Crookshanks never seemed to leave his master's side whenever she was at home.
"Crookshanks, aren't you getting bored, watching me do my work?"
Her cat purred in reply and leapt onto her lap. Hermione laughed and continued to scratch her loyal friend behind his ears.
So far, her research was bringing no result. All she knew were facts that Harry had told her last year. She looked back down at her notes.
NOTES:8/09
Horcruxes are safeguards against mortality. An extraordinarily powerful witch or wizard like Voldemort can preserve a fragment of his or her soul in the object. However, this can only be done by committing murder. By killing the other being, Voldemort's soul was cleaved into six parts. Technically it is seven because the seventh is his soul. Voldemort stored one of these fragments in a Horcrux using an as yet unspecified spell. This assures him that if he dies his soul would still remain on Earth (Was this how he was able to come back so successfully?).
How to Use: How is the soul merged into the object? What spell? From what it looks like once his body and soul were killed, the part of the soul in his Horcrux was apparently re-encased in a new body using a potion and spell used by Wormtail.
As for how to destroy Horcruxes, the secret seems to lie in destroying the object (The diary. Harry said he pierced with the basilisk's fang)
HORCRUXES:
· Ring that Dumbledore used to wear. Belonged to Voldemort's grandfather, Morvolo Gaunt. Destroyed by Dumbledore.
· Diary that held teenage version of Voldemort. Prior possession of Lucius Malfoy and Ginny Weasley. Destroyed by Harry w/ fang.
· Salazar Slytherin's locket sold to Knockturn Alley. Later possessed by Hepzibah Smith. Taken by Tom Riddle.
· Hufflepuff's cup. Possession of Hepzibah Smith b/c she was descendent of Helga Hufflepuff. Cup may possess other powers.
THEORIES:
Nagini: Voldemort's pet snake. Not sure whether Horcruxes can be living objects as well.
Salazar Slytherin: RAB Regulus Artucus Black, brother of Sirius. Deatheater killed by Voldemort.
RAB Rudolph and Bellatrix:
Horcrux: Harry.
Hermione felt her stomach tighten when she realized what she wrote. "That's never going to happen. Not when he has me," she said, crossing out the words with her pen. Not realizing it, her grip on Crookshanks tightened. The cat hissed and jumped off.
"Oh no, Crookshanks, I'm sorry!" Crookshanks was not feeling generous at the moment so he turned and strutted away. Hermione sighed and closed all of her books with a flick of her wand.
The sound of the door opening reached her ears, and she glanced up, alarmed.
She relaxed once the clicking of high heels came closer to the kitchen. "Hermione?"
"Hi Mum. Where's Dad?"
"Oh, he's just cleaning up the office. Doesn't really trust the new janitor so he's doing it himself. What are you doing dear?" Emma asked, sliding the nearest book so she can get a better look. Her eyebrows rose when reading the title.
"Dark Arts?"
"Oh Mum, honestly. I'm just helping Harry with something..." Hermione began to pack up her items, hoping to avoid anymore of her mum's interrogation.
"Hermione."
The tone of desperateness and pleading made her stop. Emma approached her daughter, her hands clasped in front. "Why did you need Uncle Benny's number?"
"Because Harry's with him."
"Harry?"
"Harry Potter, my best friend. He's with Uncle Benny, but I don't know why." admitted Hermione, clutching her books tighter to her chest. Her mum gazed at her sympathetically, remembering how much her daughter cared for that boy. Although she and Dan were not told much about their daughter's world, they've heard enough to know that the magical world was not perfect. Hermione would mention a man by the name of Voldemort in her letters while she was at Hogwarts, saying that he was near and that he was creating havoc among the magical world. Emma was shocked when she heard that a close classmate of Hermione had been notified of her mother's death in class.
Hermione was reluctant to tell her mother anymore as she stood in the hallway, but realizing she has been holding out on her mother for too long, she gesture for the two of them to sit. As her mum clutched her hand in support, Hermione told her everything that had occurred last year.
"So now," Hermione said after the story was finished, "Harry's with Uncle Benny for some reason."
"Are you sure?" asked Emma, still recovering after learning about the Horcruxes and her daughter's best friend's destiny.
"I asked for the address, remember? It was the same address. Mum, what does he do for a living?"
It was Emma's turn to be reluctant in indulging another secret. "I don't know, Hermione."
Hermione pulled her hand out of her mum's grip and observed her sullen expression. "Mum?"
"Honey, you know who secretive my brother can be. When I say I don't know, I really don't."
"Strange, isn't it? I don't know where Harry is and you don't even know what your brother does for work!"
Hermione got up, leaving her mom speechless, and bringing her books along. She will find out where Harry is and why he's with her uncle. No matter what it takes.
Next day:
"Okay, let's begin with a basic body-language signal." Cricket stood up from his desk, and crossed his arms across his chest, scrunching his eyebrows and setting a frown on his face. Harry had his textbook opened in front of him and answered, "You're crossing you're arms across your chest. And judging by the expression on your face, you're subconsciously putting a barrier between me and you. Basically, you're discontent with me."
Cricket smiled and said amicably, "Very good, Mr. Potter. I see you've studied."
Harry gave him a weary smile, suppressing a yawn from escaping. He studied for two hours from the textbook and the other two for Ballistics. He would have continued, but Jasper wouldn't stop complaining.
"Now, yes you were right on all counts. The "crossing the arms" movement is usually perceived in a very tense situation. But not every time. If someone is doing this while you are speaking to them in a light atmosphere, it would mean he or she is in deep thought or considering your words. In serious scenarios, crossing the arms depicts a person's opposition. Reading the person accurately all depends on the current atmosphere." Cricket picked up his mug, filled with coffee and took a long sip. Harry discovered his professor was somewhat of a coffee fanatic. After every long lecture, he'd stop and drink his caffeine then continued teaching.
"Ah and yes, another famous, everyday signal we see. Lying. Lying is in a human's nature. A lie is an untruthful statement said to cover a truth. When a person lies, his face is usually turned away and no eye contact is maintained. One usually perspires or fidgets in their seats. It's almost impossible to spot a lie or covering up the fact that you are lying. But here, in this class, you will learn."
Seeing as Cricket was the body language professor, he read Harry's look of shock fairly well. "But, sir, isn't that impossible? You said lying is almost impossible to--"
"Yes, yes. But, Harry, how do you think agents are able to negotiate? How do you think spies are able to get away so easily even when using a polygraph on them? They're trained to lie and a lie they tell as if it's the truth."
Cricket pulled up a chair and patted the seat. Hesitantly, Harry got up from his original position and sat down onto the chair. Satisfied that his student was willing to cooperate, the old man went to the closet and searched through his junk. He appeared again, dragging a cart along with a large cloth covering a device beneath. Like a magician revealing his next magic trick, he pulled the blanket away. Harry even expected him to say something like "Ta-da!"
"A polygraph is a device that measures and records several physiological variables such as blood pressure, pulse, and respiration while the subject--that's you--is asked a series of questions. They don't accurately detect a lie itself but deceptive signals that may show when lying. The measurements are posited to be indicators of anxiety that accompanies the telling of lies. The basic belief that every person has when using this "lie detector" is that when a person lies, nervousness causes the heart beat and blood pressure to increase, breathing rhythm changes and you sweat more."
Cricket leaned over to grab the needed parts of the polygraph and turned on the laptop that was attached.
He was handling 2 black sticks from what Harry could see and once he separated them, he explained, "The things I'm holding in my hands are pneumographs--basically rubber sticks filled with air. I'm about to place the pneumographs around your chest and abdomen. When you breathe, the air gets displaced and those movements are converted by a transducer into electric signals." Cricket gave the pneumographs for Harry to wear and then grabbed a brown band, squeezing it a few times.
"This is a blood-pressure cup, something you've seen many times I imagine. Tubing is attached from this to the polygraph and when it changes, it'll go to the bellow again and get transuded into signals for the digital polygraph.
The last piece is to measure electro-dermal activity--how much you sweat. Fingerplates called galvanometers are attached to the fingertips because that's where you can sweat the most.
"Now," Cricket clapped his hands together, rubbing them in anticipation, "we will begin." His fingers rapidly moved across the keyboard, inserting this password and answer another. Once it was set, he rechecked if Harry put on the equipment correctly.
"Have you ever cheated on a test?"
"What?"
"These are called control questions. Now I repeat: Have you ever cheated on a test?" Harry threw one glance at his professor, his mind rewinding to the time where he peeked at Jimmy Chung's spelling quiz in third grade.
"Yes."
"Ah, answered truthfully I see. How about…"
Cricket continued to ask irrelevant questions that simply required a yes or a no. This went on for nearly 5 minutes with questions like "Have you ever got sick? (Yes)" or "Do you have a girlfriend? (Ye-No)" Ginny didn't count anymore.
"Your physiological reactions still remain the same. Now we move on to what we call the relevant questions," Cricket put up a new screen and with a click of a button, he started again.
"Hmm…have you seen a movie in the past years?"
"No," answered Harry automatically, but at once he thought, Who doesn't watch movies?
"No?" exclaimed Cricket, his hands moving off from the keyboard in surprise. "Well isn't that odd? My grandchildren love to watch movies. Especially the Austin Powers ones. I don't really like it, but my daughter allows it so I suppose it's a mother's right to teach whatever."
Harry smiled; knowing that Cricket was only trying to calm him down.
"Oh well. Let's see, let's see," His professor played around with the computer. He laughed once he found the next interrogation question. "Don't get alarmed, my boy. Have you ever killed anyone?" Cricket had a smile on his face, attending the answer would be negative.
Forgetting himself, Harry asked, "Define kill." People had said Harry had killed Lord Voldemort when he was one years of age. But how could a toddler kill the darkest sorcerer alive? Was it by accident or was it something else?"
His professor looked up in alarm, his expression mixed between confusion and amusement.
"Um, sorry. Er, no. No, I've never killed anyone." Harry said, quickly changing the subject.
Cricket diverted his gaze to the screen and his eyebrows rose. He pressed another button with his hands and lowered the laptop screen. Clearing his throat, he took a prolonged gulp of coffee. He coughed when he drank alittle more intended.
"Good. Uh, good. I just wanted to give you the experience of a, uh, real polygraph."
"Yeah," Harry attempted a smile.
"Oh, I almost forgot. I found this in my mailbox in the morning. I think it's from your other professors," said Cricket, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small note.
Harry took it, reading it quickly. Crumbling the paper in his hands, he glanced back up at his professor.
"Where's the shooting range?"
Okay, everyone can guess what class will be next. So yes, I'm tying everything together. Horcruxes, Operation CoJacks, and Muggles. The most important classes are Ballistics, Analyzing, and Combat. I may include the minor ones like computer analysis, weapons (larger class on ALL weapons and not just guns) and modern technology later on. I'll tell you that the future chapters I have planned will satisfy all. I'm so excited!
By the way, I think I need a beta so I was wondering if anyone knows a very good editor. The person has to be able to edit my work very quickly because I aim to update every week or so. They have to have a sharp eye in grammar and spelling. Also able to work with Action/Adventure.
I've recently posted another story of mine and if you want a more lighthearted piece of work then check it out. It's called Uh…what and it's in my profile.
Oh and I've also read the most brilliantly written fanfiction ever! It's by atruwriter of Fanfiction dot net. Her story is "Survivor". It deals with life after the Last Battle. I won't give away anything else b/c you really have to read it. If you liked my other story, The Letters, you should definitely check out Survivor. It's 100 times better, the author is an amazing writer (and only at 19) and you'll cry if you're a devoted H/Hr shipper.
Trust me. Go read it.
Until next chapter,
Le (Viopathartic)