Lost Boys

Lost Boys

Chapter One

When ten-year-old Trystan opened his eyes the first thing he noticed was the strange bed he was lying in. He immediately sat upright. Eyes wide with disbelief, he frantically looked around the bare room. There weren't any cabinets or chairs nor was there any dressing table or mirror. Numerous bookshelves lined the walls.

How did he end up in this room? All he could remember was that he was rushing out of the Magical Menagerie when he caught sight of an ape-like creature whizzing past him. Without a single thought about his nanny who was still inside the shop, he followed the strange animal into a dark corner of an alleyway, until he reached a dead end. To his disbelief, the ape was gone before he could take a good look. It was like it vanished under his very nose. Severely disappointed, he turned away, but he had barely taken a few steps when he felt a hand clamped over his mouth, then everything went dark.

Trystan, thinking this was all just an unpleasant dream, patiently counted to ten, and waited for the familiar voices of his loving parents. "Mum? Dad?" he called out amidst the gloomy silence. Still no response. He tried calling out to his nanny instead. "Gertha, are we playing hide and seek?" Still silence.

He sat in a daze as his young mind reeled from the realization that he was all alone in a strange room. His eyes drifted towards the worn, moss-green floor carpet, then his gaze turned towards the round orb floating at the center of the ceiling, which filled the whole room with faint bluish light. It was only after some time did the oddness struck him- there were no windows or doors.

Not knowing what to do, he got up, then stood next to the wall, and scanned the book titles. "The adventures of Miuccia the Green-haired Witch ... Little Daniella and her friend Rugi the Mischievous Imp... A Moppet's Secret Journey to the Underworld..." One title caught his eye called "Beauty and the Beast," by Lady Sanna. Trystan took the book from the shelf and sat down cross-legged on the carpeted floor. He opened the first page and started reading. After reading halfway through the first page, the words started to blur. He started nodding off, and in a matter of minutes, was fast asleep.

An hour later, a section of the wall slid sideways. A woman came in carrying a tray filled with food. She found Trystan sleeping soundly on the floor, his body curled into a fetal position. A book lay open next to his side. She knelt beside him, silently studying his features, then touched his face with her hand.

His eyes flew open the minute he felt her cold touch. Blue-green eyes filled with alarm stared straight into cool brown ones. He quickly jerked into a sitting position. "Who are you?"

"You silly boy," she murmured, her mouth twitching with amusement. "Now stop your silly game and eat your dinner." She pointed at the tray floating next to him. "I've made your favorite," she said with relish.

Trystan ignored the tray. "I want to go home," he said in a tearful voice, eyeing her warily. "My mum and dad must be looking for me," he pleaded.

Her eyes went deadly cold. Without any warning, she smacked him hard on the cheek. Trystan clutched his cheek and stared at her in shock. His eyes darted past her and saw the opening in the wall. He must get away from her.

"I want my mommy!" he cried out then violently pushed the tray, scattering the contents on the carpeted floor. As she stared in surprise, he ran towards the opening. A few more steps and Trystan could have reached the opening but his entire body suddenly stiffened and he felt himself being lifted from the floor. He could hear her murmuring unintelligible words endlessly. Like a puppet held by strings, he was unceremoniously dropped on the center of the bed.

"You've been a very bad boy. As punishment, no dinner for you," she said in a hard voice. Using her wand, she fixed the mess on the floor without saying anything. Moments later, she stepped out of the room, and the wall slid back, closing the entrance.

All alone again, tears sprang from his eyes as he helplessly stared at the ceiling and prayed that his mum and dad would come and take him home.

* * * * *

The loud ringing of the telephone jerked her wide-awake. She groggily reached out for the cordless telephone on her bedside table. "Hello?"

"What the hell are you still doing in your bed?" the voice from the receiver shouted loudly, making her hold the phone a few inches away from her ear.

She blinked in surprise. "Dayna?" Her eyes flew straight to the clock right next to the lamp. It was already past ten. She groaned inwardly, she had forgotten about the blind date set by her office mate. "I'm sorry, I took a nap and fell asleep," she said sincerely.

"I'm sorry too... for wasting my time in setting you up on a date with my cousin Anthony!" Dayna yelled at her and then the line went dead.

With a frown she placed the phone back on the table, slowly stood up, then looked down and realized she had slept with her office clothes on.

Now she's mad at me. It's not as if I asked to be set up on a date with her cousin anyway, she thought in irritation. Now wide-awake, she felt thirsty and headed to the kitchen for a glass or freshly- squeezed orange juice. She had just laid out several oranges on the kitchen counter when she suddenly sensed something odd. Pausing for a second, she tipped her head to listen for any sound. When she heard nothing she decided to check the living room; there, she froze. Someone was seated in her favorite armchair.

Panic set in making her stumble a few steps back, but she quickly recovered. Drawing herself to her full height, she readied herself for an attack.

"One false move, buddy, and you're history," she hissed under her breath.

Hidden among the shadows, the intruder didn't make a single move. Instead, the mysterious person chuckled and said, "You're now talking like a bloody American."

She switched the lights on and the identity of the person was revealed. She blinked hard, then slowly relaxed her pose, but continued glaring at her unwanted visitor. "How did you find me?"

Ignoring her query, the man remained seated, looking very much at home. She crossed her arms, and waited for what he had to say.

"Hermione Granger, how have you been? Many nice, level-headed blokes have been pestering our department to find out where you've been hiding all these years." The man's face broke into a smile. "You look good."

She didn't give an answering smile. "You haven't answered my question yet, Wood."

"You're damn right. You didn't exactly want to be found," he answered, his face sobering. "It wasn't easy, I'm here because we need you back on the team."

Pushing a strand of hair away from her face, Hermione studied the man in front of her. He hadn't changed much in appearance; the chiseled face, the same piercing hazel eyes, but his hair had pre-mature gray now. Logan Wood, Oliver Wood's older brother, was eight years her senior, and assistant supervisor of the Ministry of Magical Law's Investigation Team. She wondered how he had managed to guess the identity of her secret keeper, and even more important, how he persuaded that person to give her secret away.

"I don't know how you managed to track me down, but there's no way I'm going back," she said flatly.

"You will report on Monday." There was no mistaking the tone of his voice. It was not a request, it was an order.

"You just don't go barging in somebody's house and tell them what to do!" Hermione said hotly. "Remind Biddlecombe that I have officially resigned."

"He's retired, and I took over his job."

"Oh, congratulations then," she muttered, surprised to hear that the old bat had retired. "Before I left, I made sure Lisa Turpin knew all the ropes. "

"She was a quick learner," he said quietly, then his face became unreadable, he paused for a second before he spoke again. "She's missing since last week. As well as her partner, Orla Quirke."

She gaped at him. "What?"

"Lisa had owled me with news that she might just have a small lead on the case I assigned her. The next day she and Orla vanished without a trace. The Ministry has been pressuring us to wrap this case as quickly as possible. We need you back on the team," finished Logan.

"Wood, you know I can't," Hermione said through gritted teeth. His gaze was so intent, it made her uneasy, she quickly looked away.

"How long are you going to bear the guilt on your shoulders?" he asked softly. He abruptly stood up and gripped her shoulder. "It wasn't your fault that Hannah Abbott died."

She kept her eyes averted.

"Her family has learned to accept it. Stop torturing yourself for something you were not responsible for," Logan said. "It has been four years, get over it." He sat down and took out a cigar but didn't light it.

Hermione closed her eyes for a full minute. He had spoken the truth, but she still couldn't rub the guilt away, even after all these years. Taking a shaky breath, Hermione opened her eyes and stared hard at Logan.

"I thought you quit smoking?" she couldn't help but ask. The moment the words were spoken out loud, she remembered that he only smoked when he was seriously agitated. "Fine," she said slowly. "If I'm going to be officially reinstated back on the team, then tell me what the case is about?

Logan didn't answer. His unusually grim face took Hermione by surprise. Wordlessly, he took out a thick, medium-sized envelope from his robe, placing the envelope on the table in front of her.

Hermione picked up the envelope and took out the contents, placing them on the table. Her eyes narrowed upon seeing a dozen pictures of blond-haired boys, age ranging from nine to eleven years old. The second batch of pictures made her face turn pale. They were Muggle pictures. She took one look at the picture on top and felt the bile rising from her throat. Taking a deep breath, she returned the pictures back on the table face down.

"They all died of the same pattern." Logan's voice was harsh. "Crucio first, then Avada Kedavra."

She didn't say anything. Logan took out a bigger envelope from his robe and handed it to Hermione, who silently reached out for it. He rose to his feet. "I'll see you on Monday. Everything you need to know is in that file," he said, pointing to the envelope she was holding.

She nodded and quietly replied, "Are you absolutely sure I'm capable of handling this case?"

"You know the answer yourself." Logan gave her a gentle squeeze on the shoulder, then Disapparated.

After staring into space for quite a while, Hermione turned her attention to the envelope in her hands. Ripping the envelope open, she scanned the first page.

* * * * *

It had been twenty-four hours since she read the file of the kidnapping case, and she was still no closer to solving the connection between the victims, aside from their hair color. She'd be reporting back for duty tomorrow. All her personal things were already packed in a seven-lock trunk, ready for her flight that evening. She shook her head, rubbing her aching temples. Having no appetite for breakfast, Hermione took the ceramic coffee pot to the table, then sat down and filled her cup with steaming hot coffee.

Hermione jumped with a start when the hot liquid spilled all over the table, down the floor and stained her jeans. "Crikey!" she cursed loudly. "Darn it, my favorite jeans and all!" She stared helplessly at the soaking mess on the table.

How I wish I had Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical mess remover now, she thought. Muttering at her own stupidity, she started cleaning the mess with a rag and a stain remover.

When she finished cleaning up the mess, she took one look at her ruined jeans, grimaced, then slid the jeans off in one swift movement, finally throwing them into the washing machine. She went back to her room to change into an acid washed Guess jeans. Her eyes fell on a stack of unwashed dishes. With a sigh, she started doing the dishes, mentally going over the case for the seventh time.

Two years ago, several kidnappings took place. The first victim was a boy named Maverick Rothschild, who had been with his uncle watching a Quidditch World Cup Match. The uncle went to greet an old friend who was seated not far from their seats, and when he returned, his nephew was gone.

The next victim was nine-year-old Owen Butterworth. Owen tagged along with his cousin who worked part-time in Eeylops Owl Emporium in Diagon Alley. According to Dayna Green, Owen's sixteen-year-old cousin, they stopped to look at the newest display of the Firebolt 2000 series. When she noticed Owen was nowhere in sight, she presumed the boy had gone inside the shop. It turned out that he hadn't. He was never to be found again.

The same thing happened to Andrew Canham, Darren Hamby, Isaac Lidstone, Stuart Weeden, Christopher Gorretts, Scott Loversidge, Adam Beeson, Tyrell Hartley and Zachary Grimshaw. All of them disappeared without a trace.

Two of the victims were Muggle children. The disappearances of American tourist Tyrell Hartley and Zachary Grimshaw were merely a week apart. Tyrell was last seen in a park while Zachary disappeared while shopping with his mother in a toy store.

The last victim, Jason Mudford was last seen in Hogsmeade. He stepped inside Honeyduke's to buy some sweets, while his mother, who was chatting with a friend, waited for him outside. Jason never came out of Honeyduke's. When his mother got impatient, she stormed inside the shop and asked the shopkeeper where her son was. Nobody had seen the boy except for one little girl who remembered seeing Jason standing near the cockroach cluster display.

No one thought that the kidnappings were related, until Tyrell Hartley, Zachary Grimshaw and Adam Beeson's dead bodies washed up in the Lake District. The Magical Law Enforcement Squad's Surveillance Team that Logan supervised was instructed to take on the case. The team couldn't find any other connections between the victims except that all of them were blond-haired and between the ages nine and eleven. The Ministry thought the kidnapping had stopped for good, until a string of disappearances started again a month ago. Four more boys were now listed missing.

One of them was a first year student of Hogwarts. Eleven-year-old Frederique Malkin boarded the Hogwart's Express with his school mates to go home for the Christmas holiday, but when the train reached platform nine-and-three-quarters, he was nowhere to be found. The boy was Madam Malkin's grandson.

A loud crash jolted her from her reverie. A plate had slipped from her soapy hands, fallen on the floor, and smashed into several pieces. With a sigh, she took a broom and swept up the broken shards. Afterwards, she plopped on her favorite chair and started going all over the files.

The file fell on the floor, unnoticed. Hermione remained in her seat, deep in thought.

All were pureblood except for the two Muggle kids and Adam Beeson who was half-Muggle. The only connection the kids have was their hair color and their age bracket, she thought grimly. Who could be so demented to harm innocent kids? And why only Beeson's and the Muggle kids' bodies found. Where were the others?

Then Hermione remembered something; she stood up and went down the basement. When she came up, she had a large box with her. Wiping off the dust at the top lid, she opened the box and started taking out old newspapers, until she came up with one dated October 27 of last year. The headline read: Two boys still missing. She now recalled how the boys' disappearance hogged the news. The British government felt the brunt from the American press. The press was relentless at accusing the British government for being lax with their security. It turned out little Tyrell was a grandson of the Mayor of California. There was a whole page article about the kidnapping along with several photos. She placed the newspaper aside for later reading. She dug deeper into the stack of old newspapers; finally, she came across into a much more recent article. The front page was splashed with pictures of the three victims. The investigators were baffled because the children had no bruises, marks, scratches, or broken bones. They came up with only one verdict: the boys were killed first before thrown into the lake.

Hermione noticed the file on the floor and bent down to pick it up. "Not enough clues to go on with," she groaned in frustration. With pained eyes, she stared at the pictures laid across the table, studying every aspect of it. The emaciated faces, sunken eyes, and hollow cheeks, the skinny arms and the horrified expression on the boys' faces were all too much. She suddenly felt violently sick, and shut her eyes tightly.

A minute or so later she opened her eyes, and a sudden burst of anger prompted her to swipe the pictures across the table with her hand, scattering them to the vinyl-covered floor. For a minute, she stared at the floor blankly. With a sigh, she picked up a picture; it was a picture of Tyrell taken in a Halloween party. He was dressed as Count Dracula, his face pale and small against his black robes. The naughty smirk on his face caught her attention. Her eyes widening, Hermione quickly gathered the pictures of the other missing boys and studied each one very carefully.

"I can't believe it," she whispered incredulously. "Why didn't I think of it before?"

With no time to lose, she took her wand out from its hiding place and took out her passport. In less than thirty minutes, Hermione Granger was on her way to the airport back to the Wizarding World in Britain, with a serial kidnapper to catch.