Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

Sixteen year old Harry Potter’s green eyes began to close and his head began to nod as he sat at his desk, a piece of parchment lying in front of him and a quill in his hand. He quickly shook himself awake and scowled at the homework in front of him. He had to write an essay on “How to turn a teacup into a mouse.” Sighing in exasperation, he pushed the half-finished assignment away and stood up, stretching his tall form.

Harry Potter was indeed a very different person, even in the wizarding world. When his parents had been murdered by Voldemort fifteen years ago, and he had been left with nothing but a scar, he had been left on his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon’s doorstep, and had spent the next ten years being tormented by them and his cousin, Dudley, not knowing that he was famous, known as “The Boy Who Lived”, knowing nothing of his legacy. When he was eleven, however, he began attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and had been attending ever since. He was just happy to be away from his “family” this summer; he was spending the holidays with his best friend, Ron Weasly’s family, and his other best friend, Hermione Granger, was staying as well.

He yawned and brushed his jet black hair out of his eyes, and lay down in the cot near Ron’s bed. Ron heard him and opened his eyes sleepily. His red hair seemed to fit in perfectly with his bright crimson room, celebrating his favorite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons. “Harry? You still up?”

“Yeah,” Harry answered, stifling another yawn. “Thought I’d finish McGonagal’s report.”

“Can I copy it?” Ron asked eagerly.

Harry laughed and took off his glasses. “You’ve got Hermione for that. If you copied off me, you’d fail for sure.”

He closed his eyes to go to sleep, but didn’t get the chance, as Hermione slunk into the room at that moment and said, “Harry, Ron! Get up!”

“S’up?” Ron muttered blearily.

“Dumbledore is downstairs!” Hermione said. “I heard him talking to your parents and went down—it seems he wants to talk to all of us, so get ready and come down.” She started to walk out but paused in the doorway and faced Ron. “And no, Ronald, you cannot copy my report.” With an indignant toss of her thick, curly brown hair, she headed downstairs.

Harry and Ron were out of bed and ready in no time.

“I wonder what Dumbledore wants?” Harry wondered aloud.

“I dunno,” said Ron excitedly, “but it has to be something pretty important, doesn’t it? I mean, how many times does the greatest wizard in the world, not to mention your own headmaster, come to your house at four in the morning?”

“Maybe you’re in trouble,” Harry put in teasingly. Ron paled at the thought.

By this time, they had reached the kitchen, where, sure enough, Mr. and Mrs. Weasly, along with Hermione and Professor Dumbledore were seated at the table. Harry took a seat between Hermione and Dumbledore, while Ron sat down beside his father.

“Ah, Harry, Ronald!” said Dumbledore brightly, smiling at the boys. “So good to see you.” He then became grave.

“I am afraid that I have to borrow you three for a while.” Mr. and Mrs. Weasly, who had already heard the story, looked grim but, unlike the three friends, not surprised.

“What do you need us for, Professor?” Harry asked eagerly.

“Something very disturbing has happened,” Dumbledore said sadly. “Voldemort has struck again.”

“You mean all those attacks in London the other day?” Hermione asked. “I heard about it!”

“No, Ms. Granger, sadly, that isn’t all. This time, in America.”

“America!” Ron breathed. “Why there?”

“A very powerful wizard, no doubt my equal or very possibly my superior, lives there. Voldemort cannot get to him directly because of certain spells, so he kidnapped Fenton’s - he is the wizard I am talking about - two sons, Frank and Joe, who are eighteen and seventeen.”

“Oh, how horrible!” Hermione said. “But why kidnap them? Why didn’t he just kill them?”

“Yeah,” said Harry. “Did he need them for something?” He shivered involuntarily as he recalled the time when he had been abducted by the Dark Lord because he needed his blood to come back. He also wanted to kill Harry, but the boy had escaped.

“Yes. A bargaining tool. See, Voldemort wants Fenton to join with him. Problem is, Fenton is one of the most moral people you will meet. Also, in order to remain undetected, he gave up his powers. He hasn’t used them since he double-crossed Voldemort. As far as we know, Frank and Joe don’t have any yet. Fenton is a private investigator, and the boys are amateur detectives.”

Ron asked, “What do you want us to do?”

“It seems,” began Dumbledore, his kind blue eyes mirrors of sorrow, “that he wants Fenton to help him destroy you, Harry.”

Harry paled.

“Harry, listen to me,” said Dumbledore, grasping the boy’s shoulder and shaking it slightly. “The final confrontation is drawing nearer. Until time to fight however, you need to remain safe, and it seems that you will be safer with me.” He then filled the trio in on the events of Frank’s return and the Imperious Curse and memory charm.

“So Frank got away?” Hermione asked, making sure she had all the facts right.

“Yes.”

“But Joe is still captive of Voldemort?”

“Yes…and I thought you three would like to help find him.”

The three nodded vigorously, an Dumbledore said, “Well, then, prepare to leave for America. We will be using a portkey.”

*****

Voldemort looked at the unconscious youth lying helplessly before him in disgust. He muttered a charm, and the boy’s shoulder was instantly wrapped in a thick white bandage. “There,” he hissed. “At least he won’t bleed to death while we still need him.” He turned to Lucius. “Do you have any plans for tonight?”

“No sir. I can delay meeting with my son until later. He is coming back from Goyle’s home.”

“Good. I have matters to attend to. This brat is in your charge until I return. Do what you wish with him, but DO NOT kill him. I trust you, my slippery friend.” Then he disappeared into thin air.

Joe stirred, and Lucius looked at him like a lion about to attack its prey. “Hello, Blondie,” he hissed, as Joe opened his blue eyes. “I am in charge of you until my master returns.” Joe looked up at him fearfully as he continued. “You know, Lord Voldemort took the death of his daughter very hard. I think that her murderer needs to be punished.

Joe’s eyes filled with tears as he thought about Iola. Lucius mistook the reason behind them and sneered at the youth. “Scared, Pretty Boy?” he hissed. “Just wait. When we have no more use for you, you’ll have reason to be afraid. The pain you’re in now will feel like a tickle.”

Fear filled Joe’s eyes and Lucius chuckled. “Crutio!” But this time, Joe was ready. He rolled over and dodged the curse. The green flash erupted just inches from his head. Lucius’ eyes flashed with anger.

“You are making me angry, Joseph,” he said. “I am not playing a game with you.”

He walked forward, put a food on Joe’s chest and pressed down until the youth’s airway was completely blocked. Just before Joe passed out from lack of air, Lucius removed his foot, and as Joe gasped for breath, he pointed his wand at the boy once more and said, “Crutio!” And this time, Joe wasn’t able to do anything to protect himself. Lucius smiled as his agonized screams echoed through the night. Music to his ears.

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Disclaimer

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The Hardy Boys Fan Fiction authors of the Hardy Detective Agency have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.