Harry Potter and the Thunderstruck Muggles

The FBI loved helicopters - understandably so, if the alternative was a car stuck in a traffic jam for the next two hours, too precious a time to be wasted like that.

Harry hated them on the spot.

Loud? A cacophonic hell they were, unbearable without earmuffs, and the earphones inside were the only way of communication. Then this rattling, and these unnaturally sharp turns the pilot was flying. Sharp turns in the air shouldn't be a problem for Harry, after all, only if it was someone else at the steering handle, and they came so unexpectedly ...

Nagini was suffering too, Harry could feel it. He closed the knapsack tightly, maybe the lining would help to protect her against this deafening noise.

Chopper, they called them. The first chopper caught Harry and Remus at Miami Linkport and carried them to Miami Airport, where Ellis and Chipman stood waiting.

A Learjet was more to Harry's taste: eight seats, only half of them filled with two FBI agents and two wizards, luxurious interior - and the power of these twin jets when the aeroplane went speeding down the runway, to take off and climb into the sky at an incredibly steep angle. It was like an eight-seater Steel Wing, luxury version.

Even so, they hardly found the time to finish a drink before the two hundred and something miles from Miami to Orlando lay past them. And there - you guessed it, another chopper was waiting.

Disney World was gigantic - in terms of space, that was, had even several landing strips for helicopters. Otherwise ... A landscape of fairytales, with castles, towers, and a lot of weird figures. Well, not Harry's taste, not his problem either, the ghost train was the only part that mattered.

Harry had expected something like a large barn, maybe a little bigger. He wasn't prepared for this building, seemingly larger than the Ministry of Magic, not really a maze because the carts were running on tracks, following a fixed route.

Fifteen minutes for a ride! This was the largest of the six ghost houses. Suddenly, despite the funny demon figures bobbing and blinking outside, their job looked considerably more difficult than before.

Lupin, in dark-grey slacks and a jacket with a herringbone pattern, was introduced as Mr Seamus Walgrave, a consultant for construction security, and Harry, in jeans and leather jacket, as Terry Pritchard, his technical assistant - one of those tech whiz-kids who recently appeared everywhere, and so incredibly young, masters of their profession while in other regards - well, you had to take them as they came, hadn't you?

Agent Ellis made sure they were established with the proper authority to enter the building any time, walk around inside, and take the next free cart - whatever was required to check the security of the passengers.

Then they had their first ride.

At the beginning, Harry just grinned. Skeletons, skulls with glowing eyes, something that looked like a rotten corpse at some gallows - harmless stuff, especially for someone who once had been hanging from the ground above his head into a bottomless sky, Dumbledore's trick in the maze and in the patrol exam.

Then he twitched because a cold, wet touch had hit his face - just an airstream, but quite efficiently, together with that mud-streaked figure appearing from an open grave.

Harry twitched more often, and Lupin also, but only from things which suddenly appeared out of the dark, barely feet away, with light and sound and motion - mechanical constructions all of them, nothing of which Harry's haragei would warn him. Anyway, both of them felt sure, after the fifth ride, they would know the sequence by heart.

Then a car seemed to come from the other side, headlights flashing into their faces, growing and growing, apparently at high speed, until the crash seemed inevitable - then the illumination disappeared behind them.

The next lane in this meandering through the building was better illuminated. It felt like a relief for just a moment, then they could see the tracks hanging in empty air - and thirty feet ahead, the tracks ended in mid-air! But their cart didn't stop, and any second now, they would reach the spot - here they were, and the cart really jumped forward! To hit the second track inches below, invisible before in this tricky lighting ...

Both Harry and Lupin felt ready to admit, the customers got a thrill for their money. Coming out into the sunlight, their hearts were hammering like those of any other visitor.

Well - this had been their first ride, and the longest, with almost no repetition of any particular trick. It would be routine soon.

This was in sharp contrast to their real job. They still had to learn at which points they could leave the cart to enter the maintenance pathways, which criss-crossed through the entire building. And they had all reasons to learn carefully, at some point here the first victim had been attacked. And the fifth - apparently, the attacks weren't planned sequentially across all six places.

However, the closer examinations would take place later, as part of their first patrol, which would start earlier for this purpose. The important issue now was to finish the tour.

They headed back to Orlando Airport, or course with the chopper.

* * *

The Learjet was ready and refueled. The same was true for the two pilots. To reach the same state among the passengers, some food was awaiting them - the flight to Atlanta would take about an hour for the four hundred miles, time enough to eat something on this day which would last long without offering a regular supper.

Inspecting the boxes, Harry had to grin. There were chicken wings, reminding him of another scene with four hungry mouths.

Agent Ellis, apparently not very hungry, turned to Lupin, who just had finished what was called a cheeseburger. "Now that you've seen the first train, Mr Walgrave ..."

The agent waited an instant, giving Lupin time to recognize his nom de guerre, and the obvious intention for using this name.

"... what's your comment? Will it work?"

Lupin cleaned his fingers with a tissue, then fetched a notepad. "I made a few calculations. Our assumption is that the Dementors will stay in those buildings for a while, independently of the question whether they plan a direct attack. This is a realistic approach because they feed from emotions. If they'd come in a rush, to attack and disappear immediately afterwards, we'd have little chances - a complete patrol takes about one and a half hour, maybe a bit less if the other rides are shorter."

Agent Chipman asked, "Did you think about a split?"

"A split?"

The woman looked at Harry, back at Lupin. "Yes - splitting your team into two, to size down the time between two patrols."

Hearing that, Harry shot a hard glance toward her, but Lupin was quicker. "No, Miss Chipman, and to bury this discussion once and for all" - he pointed at Harry - "here's your patrol. Harry's the one with the sensors to detect a Dementor across hundred yards - I'm just his company, if you get my bearing."

The woman looked unimpressed. "I'm just trying everything - no offense intended."

Harry resumed his chewing - as far as he could see, and hear, his friend and teacher would handle the discussion quite well.

Lupin checked his notes. "If we look at it more closely, the situation's not quite as bad, thanks to the time differences. If we take east coast time as our reference, then one shift runs as follows ..." His finger traced down his writing. "We start in Orlando at five forty-five. For the - "

Agent Ellis interrupted him. "Just a second - why that early? Didn't we say a patrol runs from six to midnight?"

"Yes, but then the shares for the different places are too unbalanced. Here - look at the time table that comes out with this starting time." Lupin passed his notepad over to the FBI agent.

Harry, who hadn't given much thought to the details of a patrol schedule across four time zones, had to wait while first Agent Ellis and then Agent Chipman were examining the paper. Then the woman passed it to him, but at that moment Lupin resumed his explanation, so Harry had to listen first.

"... are thirty-seven rides altogether," summarized Lupin. "The first time zone gets six visits, that means Orlando and Atlanta. The next one - Nashville and St. Louis - gets five. Cheyenne as the only house in the third zone gets six, and Riverside in the fourth zone gets nine."

While the two FBI agents were digesting that, Harry could finally check the paper. It was the craziest schedule he'd ever seen.

17.45  Orlando                 22.30  Riverside (19.30
18.00  Atlanta                 22.45  Orlando
18.15  Orlando                 23.00  Atlanta
18.30  Atlanta                 23.15  Nashville (22.15)
18.45  Orlando                 23.30  St.Louis  (22.30)
19.00  Atlanta                 23.45  Cheyenne  (21.45)
19.15  Nashville (18.15)       00.00  Riverside (21.00)
19.30  St.Louis  (18.30)       00.15  Nashville (23.15)
19.45  Orlando                 00.30  St.Louis  (23.30)
20.00  Atlanta                 00.45  Cheyenne  (22.45)
20.15  Nashville (19.15)       01.00  Riverside (22.00)
20.30  St.Louis  (19.30)       01.15  Cheyenne  (23.15)
20.45  Cheyenne  (18.45)       01.30  Riverside (22.30)
21.00  Riverside (18.00)       01.45  Cheyenne  (23.45)
21.15  Orlando                 02.00  Riverside (23.00)
21.30  Atlanta                 02.15  Riverside (23.15)
21.45  Nashville (20.45)       02.30  Riverside (23.30)
22.00  St.Louis  (21.00)       02.45  Riverside (23.45)
22.15  Cheyenne  (20.15)       03.00  STOP
22.30  Riverside (19.30)

It gave him a first feeling what it meant in detail, running thirty-seven ghost train rides per day until the Dementors had the decency to be found. A bit more than nine hours per day - not too much, just counting the time, while Harry felt at a loss to imagine their feelings after the twentieth ride.

* * *

The sound of the twin engines told them that the Learjet was approaching Atlanta Airport. Harry, as the last one still eating, felt in charge of storing the boxes, then they sat back and closed their seat belts for the touchdown.

Another chopper was waiting. It carried them to College Park, where they went through the second sequence of introductions before Harry and Lupin could enter a cart.

For the entertainment part, the FBI agents were right; knowing one meant knowing all of them. Harry couldn't detect any illumination not already seen in Orlando. For the building itself, though, the story was different. This complex was much smaller, actually the smallest of all six, as they learned soon afterwards, nine minutes for a single ride.

Small or not, this ghost train hadn't counted a victim so far.

Back to the airport, they took off for another flight of two hundred and something miles to Nashville, Tennessee. Touching down at Nashville Airport, they gained the first hour on their trip; suddenly it was six thirty rather than seven thirty.

The Cumberland Park contained the scene of crime for the third victim, so Mr Walgrave and his assistant Mr Pritchard received appreciating smiles in their introduction. The building itself looked already familiar, sized somewhere between that in College Park and that in Disney World. The ride took eleven minutes.

Their next flight, two hundred and forty miles to St. Louis, Missouri, would be their last for today - with the Learjet, that was, while another chopper expected them at St. Louis Airport for the visit of Six Flags.

It was almost a duplicate of the previous step. Victim number two had been found here; the building looked very much like the previous one, and the ride took twelve minutes.

But this park had something new. Doing their ride, they found a barrier of thundering flames toward which the cart was moving at undiminished speed, until - at the last instant - the flames faded while Harry and Lupin still felt the hot air in their faces.

Returning into the manager's office, Lupin wanted to know how they made sure the flames would burn down just in time ... and how often it failed.

The manager grinned. "Never, Mr Walgrave, and I'll tell you why, which is confidential information. The flames are an optical illusion from a video, the sound comes from a tape, and the hot air from something like a gigantic hair dryer. If the time control fails, the cart goes through light, that's all. Clever, isn't it?"

Clever, yes. Except that now it was half past ten - local time, while for Harry and Lupin, it felt more like half past five in the morning.

Flying back to St. Louis Airport, where rooms had been booked for the four people, Harry almost fell asleep - in a chopper!

He and Lupin declined an invitation to a last drink at the hotel bar. Breakfast was scheduled for eight o'clock in the morning, leaving them little more than eight hours of sleep after such a long day.

* * *

The breakfast gave them some grace time for coming fully awake; otherwise, it was something to forget soon. Whatever the Airport Hotel in St. Louis might be famous for, tea and some food according to a British student's taste weren't part of it. For compensation, it was close to the Learjet, which saved them another chopper-hopping.

The flight from St. Louis to Cheyenne, Wyoming was about eight hundred miles, meaning two and a half hours. Only minutes after the take-off, lulled by the whining sound from two jet engines, Harry fell asleep.

He came awake from the bumping when the Learjet touched down. According to his watch, it was eleven thirty, but of course they had gained another hour.

Fort Fun as a whole had a strong emphasis on the myths of wild west - cowboys, Native Americans, bank robbers, and train robbers. For the ghost train, it made little difference, except that it was a train rather than a car what came steaming toward their cart, headlights flashing and whistle blowing.

A ride took ten minutes here. This was the building in which victim number four had been found.

About to leave, Harry and Lupin were stopped by the manager. Didn't they want to watch the daily attraction?

It was called High Noon, and this was exactly the time when it took place. A showdown in a reconstructed street of a western town - a sheriff, shabby clothes, the only shining spot his star, against five bad guys, expensively dressed, the boss of the gang completely in black and silver. To nobody's surprise, the sheriff shot the first two bandits at once, the next two during the subsequent minutes, and finally the black-and-silver guy.

The performance clarified some of the crap Harry had heard from that lunatic, in the former Giants' camp. Otherwise, it was a waste of time, necessary for reasons of politeness - these people were so proud of a history that seemed nothing but a long list of unlawful killings.

As a result, they were thirty minutes behind schedule - acceptable, if you had a Learjet waiting for you personally, and if there was just one more ghost train waiting to be seen.

The flight from Cheyenne to Riverside was nine hundred miles, with a scheduled arrival at four o'clock, meaning three o'clock local time. Harry, who felt determined to use the next days also for his portkey programming, was scanning the distances from one park to another in his mind when Agent Chipman came along with a huge box - their lunch.

A Wyoming lunch consisted of large amounts of meat - very delicious, though little more. Harry could draw parallels from there to Texan habits, learned from Samantha - it had been him who used to come with the salad, half a year ago. Would it be possible to jump back, fetch a salad bowl, and apparate right into a Learjet, flying at several hundred miles per hour? An interesting question, however quite a theoretical one, because Harry felt no inclination to find out.

And of course, he was just into his third spare rib when the FBI agents started another conversation about tactics. Couldn't they separate food from business?

Agent Ellis couldn't. "Mr Pritchard ..."

It took Harry a second to connect this name with himself.

"... assume you've sensed some Dementors, then what?"

Harry swallowed his bite. "Then we'll try to locate their position in the building, as close as we can. Basically, that's Nagini's job - to point the exact direction while we're moving along these pathways."

"How close do you have to come?"

"Well - we want to talk with them, right? If the only purpose was to kill them, it would be much simpler - we could just send our Patronuses and wait till they come back to tell us that it's over. A Patronus doesn't need pathways, and it can cross through walls - very handy, unless you want to instruct them how to treat the Dementors in detail."

The two FBI agents looked as if they would like to see a Patronus very much, and as if they weren't sure if this desire was reasonable.

Sensing it, Lupin said, "We can show you our Patronuses - but not here, it's a bit narrow for a Centaur."

"A Centaur??"

Lupin nodded. "Yes, that's Har - er, Terry's shape. Mine is a simple wolf." He said it with a grin in his face.

Agent Chipman asked, "How do you instruct a Patronus?"

Lupin grimaced. "Good question ... To be honest, only Harry can communicate with his Patronus, while mine - so far, I wasn't able to talk with him."

The two FBI agents looked at Harry, once more showing this conflict between their natural habit - considering Lupin, the older one, as their first reference, and the actual situation in which a seventh-year claimed this role again and again.

Harry grinned. "I'm the whiz-kid, remember? ... Sorry."

Lupin suppressed a laugh. "But a Patronus follows the intention of his master, so I'd assume even a mute wolf wouldn't kill them at the spot. We've never had this situation before; in a few days, we'll be wiser ... Hopefully."

Agent Ellis asked, "Will you try to interrogate them?"

It was Harry who gave the answer, sharply. "No - under no circumstances."

Three heads turned to him with astonishment. Agent Chipman was the one to ask, "Why not?"

"If our assumption is right - if it's Voldemort who sent them, then he'd hear about this interrogation. And then he'd know that I'm looking for him. This must not happen. And besides, the only interesting news would be his address, and as much as I'd like to know, do you really think he invited some Dementors at home to talk with them? Never!"

Lupin nodded. "You're right - er, Terry. I didn't think it through, but then, I was busy with the time schedule." He looked at the two FBI agents. "You see - we team up quite well, no sense in separating us."

With satisfaction, Harry could feel how the two FBI agents were decoding the underlying message - and accepting it, finally. He and Lupin, yes, they were student and teacher, but only in Hogwarts, not in the days to come.

* * *

The weather in Riverside was nice, quite unexpectedly for someone who had left the muddy coldness of Hogwarts just a day earlier. Still better, they used a car rather than a chopper; Ride'n'Joy was pretty close to the airport.

After College Park in Atlanta, this was the second place still waiting for the first victim, an indicator that the size alone couldn't be the reason. The ghost train turned out almost as big as that in Disney World; Harry timed a single ride at thirteen minutes.

With the official schedule of their two-days trip finished, Agent Ellis asked whether Harry would like a normal visitor's tour through the amusement park.

Harry looked at Lupin and saw his head shaking. "No thanks," he said, "we'll see it often enough, I guess."

Which left the question how to reach Santa Monica. Agent Ellis could offer a car or another chopper for the last fifty miles - the Learjet would take him and Miss Chipman back to St. Louis, the place they had selected for their own operation headquarters.

Lupin looked at Harry. "What's your choice?"

"Not a car - it'll take forever in those traffic jams. And another chopper ..." Harry's grimace told clearly what he thought of this idea. "I could jump - can you pursue?"

Lupin grinned ruefully. "Sorry."

"All right, then, a chopper, just for good measure."

They touched down on the flat roof of the Sheraton Hotel, their residence for the next days, maybe weeks. It was the largest hotel in town, and the most expensive - a natural choice for FBI guests.

There was a suite for each of them - bedroom, bathroom, day room, spacious and luxurious. The two day rooms connected to each other, very conveniently so. Lupin said, "Terry, I think we'll leave this connection open - at least as long we have no visitors."

Harry nodded, grinning. "Sure, Seamus. I can imagine a visitor for you easily, while at my side ..."

Lupin, alias Walgrave, looked sympathetically. "Now that we're here, I hope there'll be an opportunity even for you."

"Maybe," replied Harry. "Only question is, should I hope, or be afraid?"

* * *

The next day made it into Harry's list of the most strenuous ones he could remember, comparable only to his excourse into the furniture mover's profession about two years ago, when he had worked for a desk and a cabinet. Today, however, there was no immediate reward in sight.

What they had in mind was getting accustomed to the inner topology of six ghost train buildings, becoming familiar with the paths, exits, and entrypoints of the maintenance pathways, the places where the Dementors would hide. Half an hour per building seemed the minimum - together three hours in addition, which meant they had to start in Orlando at two forty-five, only that here in California this meant eleven forty-five.

Apparating from park to park was no problem, except that they couldn't find a quiet spot in which to appear. So they scared quite some people, suddenly appearing in their view. This would change once they had a clear memory of the insides. Until then, it was somewhat nerve-racking.

In the Cumberland Park of Nashville, they nearly crashed into a group of young men. After the first moment of shock and fright, these Muggles started to brawl, waving their fists and giving bad remarks about "damned Magicals." After a moment, they started closing the circle around Harry and Lupin.

Lupin suggested to disappear, back to Atlanta.

Harry shook his head. "No, they'd hunt us all the time." Then he addressed the closest member of the gang. "Sorry, man, my mistake. Stay cool, okay?"

The answer was a sneering, and the promise to stay very cool, while they'd make sure -

Next moment, there was a gap in the circle, a result of Harry's flat hand, which had come forward to hit the solar plexus of his direct opponent, sending him on his knees and out of combat.

Harry and Lupin quickly stepped through the opening and turned to have the group in front of them.

The circle reformed, grew wider, and the man in the middle, apparently the leader of the pack, suddenly had a knife in his hand.

Without turning, Harry said, "Seamus, fetch the park security - now."

Hearing Lupin's steps toward the building, he stared into the knifer's face. "The cops will be here in a minute."

"That's enough." The man approached with careful steps, well balanced, knife kept low.

Harry had Rahewa's present at his left arm, but he was no knife fighter, his weapon was aikido, and he remembered Kenzo's warning. 'Don't try to hit the hand with the knife - that's something for movies; in reality, the hand is too fast.'

He waited until the distance was right. Then he made one step forward and hung in the air, his leg shooting forward. He hit the man's temple at the unprotected side, then landed on feet and hands, coming up instantly in a motion sequence trained over weeks.

His opponent's standing was remarkable. Even so, the man staggered for a moment, with glassy eyes - time enough for Harry to kick the knife out of a numb hand, grab this cannonball of a head and have his own knife ready, pointing at the man's throat.

Harry looked around. "That's it. Get lost!"

The other figures stopped, obviously impressed by the sparkling six inches of Harry's twin-blade knife. After a moment's hesitation, one of them recognized some people approaching quickly from the building, and both arguments together were convincing enough. Seconds later, Harry was alone with his opponent.

He stepped back, made his knife disappear - not as quickly as Rahewa, but in time before the guards arrived.

"What's going on here? Did this man threaten you?"

Harry shook his head. "Sorry - was a misunderstanding, but we could clarify the issue."

Then one of the guards saw the knife lying on the ground, took it up and asked whether it belonged to one of them.

No, it didn't, was unknown to them, they hadn't seen it before.

The guards seemed familiar with such scenes of misunderstandings, and maybe a sudden loss of memory. They asked Harry whether he wanted to file a complaint and were satisfied when the answer was, "No, why?" They restricted themselves to stay there for another minute while the conversation partners in this misunderstanding left to opposite directions.

Lupin glanced at Harry. "Do you feel better now?"

"Not really, because right now, I'm a bit sick from the adrenaline. But it was the right thing to do - I've learned from the camp people that there's no sense in playing friendly with such a lot. And we managed without using our wands."

"Oh yes - I, in particular." Lupin looked a bit grudgingly. "Harry - er, Terry, I could swear I saw a knife in your hand, and even from the distance, it looked very much like another one I've seen once ..."

After a careful glance around, Harry made a quick movement. "You mean, this one here?"

"I knew it! It belongs to that girl, doesn't it?"

Harry grinned. "No. This one's her Christmas present for me."

* * *

The ghost train buildings, as it turned out, were all built according to the same basic design. The track meandered through the building, starting at top level, losing height over ramps, short sections separated from each other by swing doors, one scene per section. And the pathways, made of metal grids, went between levels and under ramps, almost nowhere offering sufficient room to stay upright. Assuming the Dementors didn't like ducking low all the time, there were only few spots where they had to be expected.

This was the good news. The bad surprise was that without any exception, these spots were also the only locations where one could leave the carts en route. Either Harry - or Nagini - would sense the Dementors soon enough, or they would appear as a sudden and nasty surprise ... provided they came again.

Nagini hid under Harry's leather jacket which, for this purpose, had been bought in a bigger size. It made him look more like a football player than a technician while not really unusual, not in this country which offered an astonishing mix of body shapes and dress fashions.

After their first thorough round, completed quicker than expected, they had some spare time to look for food. It taught them another lesson: as of tomorrow, they would come with a lunch box from the Sheraton Hotel, sandwiches and salads, plus some soda, to be deposited in Ride'n'Joy. The offerings in the amusement parks were low quality, greasy junk food, expensive, and worst of all, you had to wait in line forever.

This was followed by the first regular shift - ride after ride after ride, quickly reduced to a boring routine. Apparating into the next building, coming out - initially as a surprise for the staff, until they were getting used to it - claiming the next free cart while showing their fake identity cards, sitting down, and riding ... Then Nagini would report the presence of a wizard, but nothing else, and ten to fifteen minutes later, they could climb out.

Then they learned to get out of the cart at the last spot of their ride, to jump from there to the next park, occasionally wondering what the people outside might think seeing an empty cart - coming out of a ghost house for which the average time to wait in line was growing to twenty minutes and more.

And then, finally, their first shift was over. Back in the Sheraton Hotel, they took benefit from local habits - food after midnight, only sandwiches, but a sandwich in the States was a piece of kitchen art, outperforming anything they had seen in England, in size and in quality.

With the necessary weight in his stomach, Harry fell asleep within minutes.

* * *

Next day, after a breakfast taken as late as possible in this luxury hotel, Harry examined his map for another purpose. There was still a task pending - gathering the results from Hermione's two test candidates. A real nuisance, in this situation, only he had accepted the job at some time, so there was no choice.

Haiti and Orlando had the same time zone. When apparating now, eleven o'clock local time, he would arrive at two in the afternoon, in the midst of the siesta time. So he had to wait two more hours.

It was a narrow time frame. Contacting Benoît, jumping to Gros-Morne, waiting for him, contacting Caprien Marût - who reported a first success, no transfiguration at all! Joining the smile, Harry paid the agreed premium, fifty galleons. A month from now, the real test would come: did the effect hold, or was Hermione's brew just another version of the standard Wolfsbane Potion?

And up to the Ile de la Tortue, apologizing toward Monsieur Armodéc - without releasing any detail about his current task, hearing the expected report, saying goodbye, and whooosh - into Hogwarts, spending two minutes with Hermione, who looked pleased hearing about Marût, and fierce hearing about Armodéc.

And back into the Sheraton Hotel, minutes before their next schedule.

Lupin looked angry. "Damn, Harry - you're a stressful company, did anyone ever tell you that?"

Harry grinned. "You talking with me? My name's Terry ... Let's go, Seamus."

The first three rides were a relief, after his previous travels under such a time pressure. The next four felt like Social Ethics - a constant level of noise and movement, here even combined with illuminations, none of which could reach Harry's mind.

The other thirty felt like a mild version of the Cruciatus curse.

Harry knew that they were in dire need of some improvement in their patrol organization, and by midnight west coast time, the time when their shift ended, he had a clear perception what to do.

Next morning, after a breakfast not quite as late as the previous day, Harry fetched a cab, but only after making sure he and the driver spoke the same language - well, more or less. Then he explained what he was looking for.

The cab driver took them to a hardware store.

No sir, they hadn't such items, he might try it in the mall, just three miles down the main street.

The mall turned out a large collection of small shops, offering all things you never thought necessary, and till today saw no reason to change your mind. At least, Harry got another tip - the House and Garden Center, another mile down the street.

The cab driver had no objections - why, the taxameter was ticking since more than a hour, and Sheraton passengers seemed trustworthy even for such astronomical fees.

And here Harry found what he had in mind - large letters and digits, bronze casting on a socket plate larger than a hand, perfectly suited for his purpose. He added some adhesive and a reel of thin wire, because his collection of fixing spells for the practical wizard felt a bit incomplete for the task ahead.

Thirty plates together were heavy; but then, the weight would shrink quickly - five per ghost train building, so he wouldn't have to carry the full amount for long. Harry paid his faithful cab driver, waited until the car had disappeared around the corner, then apparated to Disney World.

Half an hour later, his first five plates were mounted, and four of them already operative - small wonder, with distances measured in yards. Then came the first challenge: four hundred miles to Atlanta.

Harry's maximum distance so far - from Hogwarts to London - was something about three hundred miles. And now ...

The first two attempts were failures.

Harry sat down to concentrate, and imagine how Lupin would look at hearing the confession that this was still beyond reach. Then he tried again.

Yep! Atlanta, here we come.

Training did the job. Twenty minutes later, the building in the College Park was mounted.

Two hundred and some miles to Nashville turned out easy play. And after some more minutes, the weight of Harry's box was down to half.

Two hundred and forty to Six Flags ... done. Five more signs to mount ... done - well, except the activation of the fifth, aiming across eight hundred miles to Fort Fun in Wyoming.

What Harry would like now was a brain booster, like the Giants' dope in his patrol exam. Only he hadn't. But a moment later, he remembered the scene when this exam had started, how his team partner had been talking about sugar as a brain shooter.

The memory felt somewhat painful, while the advice had been good. Five minutes later, Harry returned with three candy bars. Two dropped into his box, the third disappeared in his mouth.

Inhale deeply ... exhale deeply ... concentrate, and now - go west.

Yipee! Wyoming, you're mastered.

With five signs and two candy bars left, Harry told himself that nine hundred miles wasn't really different from eight hundred, was it?

No, sir - not after the two candy bars had been sent the way of all food.

And what about two thousand miles?

No way. Not today, not in these shoes, not while still feeling the satisfaction of two other successful tasks only minutes ago. Well - Harry could live with that, at least until tomorrow, when he would return and not give it a rest until their patrol circle was closed, even across a continent.

* * *

When he jumped back to the Sheraton Hotel, it was half past two - fifteen minutes until their shift would start. Lupin asked, "Terry, are you going to keep that habit? I mean, getting lost after breakfast and returning ten minutes before it's time to leave?"

"No, sir." Harry smiled proudly. "And you'll take that back in a few minutes."

"Take that back? It was a simple question, so why - "

"No it wasn't - it was a reproach, it was something like, first you drive me into this adventure, and then you're not seen all day long. But I have a surprise for you - wait and see, and then let's talk again."

Harry fetched Nagini, then it was time.

In Disney World, Lupin started heading toward the cart line, but Harry grabbed him. "No - come inside."

Closing the door of the maintenance entry behind them, Harry pointed at the first plate, showing the number (1).

"Here - duck a bit, then touch it, and then step aside because I'll follow."

Lupin obeyed and disappeared.

Harry granted him three seconds, then he followed - across a quarter of the building, to his second checkpoint which showed the plate (2). He came out inches away from Lupin.

"Oops - I said step aside, I didn't say shuffle on the spot."

Lupin had caught the idea already, grinned, and touched the plate. A minute later, after passing the centre with the (3) plate and the last quarter with the (4) plate, they reached the other end.

Lupin examined the last plate in this building,- (A) for Atlanta. Then he turned and bowed.

"My dear Terry, master of all portkeys, I apologize wholeheartedly, expressing my deep shame and burning embarrassment, after having - "

Laughing, Harry stopped him. "Okay, okay - it's enough. What's more important, now we can save these stupid rides, they were about to drive me crazy. And we need a new schedule - that's your turn, I'd say."

"Definitely." Lupin looked a bit embarrassed. "To be honest, I had some ideas of my own, I guess our thoughts went the same direction during the rides yesterday. And aside from that, some people count me as the teacher in your portkey project, so ..."

"And why didn't you talk with me?"

"How should I? I won't bother people during breakfast, that's a crime. And then you were gone ... And I didn't know how to address the issue."

"What?" Baffled, Harry looked at his friend and teacher.

"Yes, sure - Harry, I don't know anything about portkeys, calling me your teacher is a Hogwarts formalism and has nothing to do with the reality, that's why I had a bit trouble finding the right words."

Harry felt consternation. "After all we did ... Say, is it that bad with me? Am I that difficult to handle?"

"Well ..." Lupin hesitated, then looked Harry in the eyes. "Let's say, half of it is my mistake, and the other half of the answer is a simple 'Yes'. Since a while, you're very touchy ..."

Harry felt the blood rush into his face.

"... but so what, I mean I know why, and this here - Harry, you did an excellent job, so let me do my one and only task as your teacher: this is your exam work, and you've passed."

"Just a second - I have to tell you, from Riverside back to Orlando, that portkey doesn't work yet."

Smiling, Lupin took his arm around Harry's shoulder. "I bet you'll be gone after breakfast tomorrow, and won't come back until it's working, am I right? ... Or maybe the day afterwards, it's only a matter of time."

Harry nodded, still suffering from a mix of joy and shame, swearing to himself that he would work on this problem, as soon as he could find the time, and the opportunity - and a certain conversation partner required for this task.

* * *

At the end of their first round, reaching the (O) plate, which still was inoperative, Lupin stopped him. "I know how to reorganize our schedule. These portkeys are wonderful, much better than apparition - you don't have to concentrate, they save energy, quite a lot. So we can make a round in no more than ten minutes, and we can keep our concentration in that time. Then, we'll have a break - ten, fifteen minutes, to relax. And then the next ... Let me check it through ..."

For a while, Lupin was counting, murmuring times, using his fingers to count, then he looked up. "We can make about twenty-five rounds that way, and all of them through all six buildings, as long as they're open. Each building gets about sixteen patrols, more than twice as much than with the old schedule. And we'll feel worlds better than before."

And so they did. After the next round, Lupin took his cellular phone - their permanent connection to the headquarters in St. Louis, to inform the FBI agents about the improvement.

Harry listened how Lupin was talking about good news, and portkeys, and a brilliant whiz-kid, then he saw him grinning. A moment later, Lupin switched the phone off.

He chuckled. "They have no idea."

"Huh?"

"They were quite impressed, but then they said how glad they were to have me in the team, and as the direct contact. Harry, they're scared of you." Lupin chuckled again. "It was very wise of you not to tell them."

"Tell them what?"

"That I'm a werewolf - they'd just lose all their faith in me."

* * *

Next day was Saturday. It didn't mean anything for their shift, but coming down to the breakfast table, Harry found a visitor who was beaming toward him almost as much as toward Lupin - Almyra.

"Morning, Harry," she said. "Nice place here - just right to invite some people, what do you think?"

"Hello, Almyra - people for whom our breakfast is more like supper, or people for whom our breakfast is more like breakfast?"

"Well ..." Almyra grinned. "You two, you can split the task - Remus covers those having supper, and you those having breakfast."

Harry glanced around. "Without changing the subject - be careful with whom you speak, okay?"

"What? ... Oh!" Almyra blushed a bit. "Got it, Terry - seems as if someone has been quite clever with the phonetics, to cover such clumsies like me. But coming back to my suggestion - would you agree to that?"

"Sure - except that movie people have breakfast at noon, while for me, there's a task waiting to be done - right after breakfast."

"Then tomorrow."

"Tomorrow's the same." Seeing Almyra's expression, Harry added, "It's true - I need three days at the minimum until the most urgent work is done. Then, if we're still here, I can think about - er, visits."

"And what's so urgent?"

"Getting something started. This place is a bit too public for discussing it in more detail."

Almyra looked somewhat disappointed, but Harry had been totally honest. Today, he would attack the two thousand miles barrier - this done, he would try to settle the business with that Pinkerton agency.

After breakfast, he jumped again to the House and Garden Center because he needed another one of those plates - to approach his goal in reasonable steps, rather than trying too much at once again and again.

He came out with a (T) plate - the most fitting letter he could think of, with the T standing for Terry's task, tremendous target, for training - test - triumph ... Hopefully so.

Nine hundred miles had been his farthest portkey so far. All right then, thousand should be his next milestone - the distance from Cheyenne to Nashville, for a change across the direction of their circling route.

He mounted his plate provisionally; if it worked - when it worked, he would take it off again soon.

Yes it worked, almost immediately, very much to his surprise. Remembering his map with the six places, he knew why - the direct connection Cheyenne - Nashville was less than thousand miles.

But it was more than ever before, reason enough to try the next step from Cheyenne to Atlanta - twelve hundred miles minus something.

The something couldn't be much, because it took Harry almost an hour until his spell worked as desired. Even then, the distance wasn't really mastered yet - two more failures before he could reproduce it again.

Remembering the promise toward himself - not cutting corners - he worked until he could program his plate successfully three times in a row. Just to be sure, he dismounted the plate, jumped to Atlanta, and made a test the other way around - after all, portkeys from east to west might be more difficult than those from west to east.

But they weren't.

Back in Fort Fun, after having fixed his plate once more, Harry aimed for the next milestone, a direct link to Disney World, sixteen hundred miles on their route, about fifteen hundred as the crow was flying ... Poor crow, if it really had to do that.

Poor Harry, who'd been ordered so by himself.

Half an hour passed without progress, and he felt hungry. Driven by ambition, he told himself - no food before this portkey was working.

For the next twenty minutes, his doubts were growing if this had been a good idea. Accuracy was suffering from hunger, wasn't it, still more from starvation ... Then, suddenly, it worked.

One had worked. And what about another?

He was crazy - it would fail, and then he'd be stuck here, his pride preventing him from having a lunch before their shift ... But oh wonder, he could repeat it.

Jumping back to the Sheraton Hotel, Harry had little more than an hour left before it was time to start today's patrol - enough to eat without untidy haste, while the big jump had to wait till tomorrow.