Author's Note: I've never been one for crossovers, but this little bug bit me after reading a wonderfully written HP/Criminal Minds crossover entitled Cerberus by Cruchysunrises, located on AO3. I highly recommend checking it out, if you have not done so already.

This is a Criminal Minds/Harry Potter crossover, set is some strange AU before Jack is born, but after Rossi joins the team. If you haven't seen Criminal Minds, you should still be able to follow along, as I'm trying to makes sure to introduce all characters with at least some back story, but it will be easier to follow if you have.

As always, I own nothing. I am also sans-beta, so all mistakes are my own. Please read and review. And now...

...on with the story!

In A Handful of Dust

Chapter 1: In the Thick of It

There were precious few things in life that Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner hated more than cases, particularly violent ones, involving children. It might have had to do with the fact that he, himself, had been a victim of abuse when he was young, or because he and his wife Haley were trying to get "in the family way," but regardless of the reason, cases involving children made his skin crawl in a way that no other case, no matter how gruesome, could. Generally, as the supervisor of this particular team, Aaron would personally see to avoiding all cases involving children of any age, however this particular case involved such a strange set of circumstances and appeared to be escalating so quickly that the team's public liaison, Jennifer Jareau, also known as JJ, had insisted they go at once.

Aaron's team was the best team of criminal profilers that the FBI had to offer, and as such, they often found themselves being flown around the country to assist local authorities in apprehending wanted and highly dangerous criminals- from serial killers to kidnappers.

Aaron was the last person on the team to enter the conference room for the case briefing, just in time to see JJ display a picture of the latest victim, a boy of about five years old, whose death appeared to have been caused by disembowlment, on the screen in the front of the room.

Nearly ten years in The FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit, and kid cases never got any easier.

JJ cleared her throat, nervously darting a glance at her supervisor, "Ready, Hotch?"

Aaron nodded, and gestured for her to start.

JJ referred to the file folder in her hand briefly, and then began.

"We will be heading to Concord, NH. About a month and a half ago, a family was found in their home, shot execution style in their beds. George and Lina Marshall, and their 8 year old daughter Kelly. Their son, Hunter, was taken from their home and was found a week later in a field outside of town, having been stabbed repeatedly in the stomach. Two weeks later, Kristoff and Anya Petersson were found in their home. Same M.O., and their son, four year old Victor, was found yesterday. And today, Vernon and Petunia Dursley, and their seven year old son Dudley, were found in their home, just outside of the town itself. Their six year old nephew, Harry, appears to have been taken."

"If our unknown subject, or unsub, follows the same pattern, we have less than a week to find Harry alive."

JJ pressed the next button on the remote, and a picture of the missing child came up on the screen. A small boy, much smaller than his age would suggest, with dark, messy hair and brilliant green eyes, hidden behind dark, plastic rimmed glasses. Aaron made the mental note that the boy did not appear to look anything like the rest of his family, whose bodies also graced the screen. He shivered slightly and mentally steeled himself. This boy will not be victim number eleven.

"Time is of the essence with this case. Wheels up in thirty," said Aaron, after a brief pause. He stared at the carpet for a moment, collected himself, and then, gathering up his file folder, he strolled out of the room.

The walls of the box are covered with deep scratches. Gouges in the wood, bloody and tinged with desperation. He claws at the ceiling, mere inches from his face, the urge to panic welling up in his chest- terror filling his lungs like a water balloon until he cannot breathe.

letmeoutletmeoutLETMEOUT

He screams.

The flight from Dulles to Nashua was tense. Aaron called Haley, briefly, from the tarmac, to let her know that he'd be gone for the next few days. They spoke for exactly 35 seconds about the case, and then for another 2 minutes about the week's weather. Aaron hung up just as the plane was about to take off. The youngest member of the team, and resident genius Spencer Reid, tried to engage him in a game of chess, but after ten moves and being put in check twice, Aaron gave up and tried to grab a few minutes of sleep before landing.

When the team arrived in the Concord Police Headquarters just a few hours later, the place was in utter chaos. JJ moved in quickly to introduce herself and the members of their team to Police Chief Warren, while Aaron led the rest of their motley crew into the station's conference room. Evidence and photos of the various crime scenes lined the walls, and Reid moved immediately to the formidable stack of forms sitting at one end of the table.

As Reid began to read through the tall pile of paperwork, Aaron asked, "What do we know?"

"Time between kidnappings and murders is getting shorter. And the second boy was kept longer. The first child was held for a week, but Victor was kept alive for about ten days," said Emily Prentiss. Prentiss had joined the team nearly a year ago, and was as blunt and as sharp as a whip. Despite Aaron's misgivings about Prentiss's abilities when she joined the team, she had proven herself a valuable asset to the BAU fairly quickly.

"He's definitely got a type," added Derek Morgan. Morgan, often viewed as the team's muscle and "lady killer," per JJ's astute observation, had a protective streak a mile wide. Children's cases arguably hit him as hard as they hit Aaron."Boys are between four and eight, and have dark hair. We're looking at a preferential offender."

"No signs of sexual abuse, though," chimed in David Rossi, the senior member of their team. Rossi had worked in the BAU long before Aaron joined, and had retired, briefly, to become a writer. He had rejoined the team not long after Prentiss, and the BAU was greatly benefitting from his long career and expertise. Rossi continued, "Both boys were malnourished and showed signs of physical torture, but no indications of molestation. The medical examiner report says that both boys were beaten, and, strangely, had splinters of wood under their finger nails."

"Probably from where ever they're being kept," added Prentiss.

"Hey, guys? Interesting note, here," Spencer spoke quickly, without glancing up from the file that he was perusing, "All three families only recently immigrated to the country. It says here that the Marshalls moved from Australia about 6 months ago, and the Peterssens came from Romania in March."

"What about the Dursley's?" asked Aaron, his interest piqued.

"They moved here from Surrey, England, about three weeks ago. Hadn't even had the opportunity to register their son and nephew in school."

"That's got to be the connection between the victims. Prentiss, you and Morgan go to the last body dump site and see if you can find anything. Rossi, you and I will go to the Dursley home and see if we can learn a bit more about our victims. Reid, you and JJ try and see what you can discover about our victims. Remember, that boy has been missing for 16 hours now. The longer we take, the less likely it is for us to find a Harry alive."

The water is cold, and it just keeps coming and coming and coming- filling up the little box until he is forced the press his face to the slats of the lid to find air. He is going to die here, he knows, and no one is going to miss him.

worthlessFREAKjustlikeyourfather

Suddenly the water shuts off and begins to drain out the bottom and he can rest again, able to breathe easy.

"Please.." He whimpers, "Please let me out..."

There is laughter above him, cold and shrill, and he cannot tell if he hears the voice outside of his prison, or in his own skull.