Catherine O’Hara
The Mugglenet Murder
On July 16, 2005, Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince was released.
On July 17, fifteen-year-old London resident Judy Bowers was murdered in her own home.
Catherine glanced over her bus schedule planning ahead as to when she may return. She carried three or four of them at any time in her long over coat. The grey sky threatened to downpour a summer rain, bringing a further depression to an already unimaginably tragic day. Tucking her long scarf under her overcoat, Catherine wondered what she was really doing there. A murder was a very serious crime, more serious than anything she had ever been involved with before, but there was the other stigma as well, not only was she just modestly known for solving mysteries, she was also a witch.
The morning papers would certainly make a field day over this story, if they ever found out a witch was involved with the investigation for a murder of a Harry Potter fan. Catherine could just imagine it and considered brushing her long red hair over her face to hide her from any cameras. The home was only a half block away from a bus stop and looked like an unremarkable middle class home. It had two stories, probably three bedrooms, to the side it had a water stained wooden breakfast nook that looked added on after the house was built, a perfectly normal family home. This was no setting where a murder should have taken place.
There were only two police cruisers parked in front of the house and some police tape across the front door. What she assumed to be plain-clothes officers were stepping out of the house climbing under the tape, one of them was getting the sleeve of his raincoat caught in the barrier. Despite Catherine’s poor eyesight, which made it hard for her to make out anything further away past the end of a bus, she spotted Donald right away with his awkward gait and enormous black camera in his left hand that weighted him down like a clumsy dumbbell. He was the one who brought her here. Donald stumbled through life like a lost kitten and tried to blend with his tougher superiors by taking up smoking. It didn’t suit him at all and looked about as comfortable with a cigarette in his mouth as he was with a beautiful woman.
He spotted Catherine right away and looked around as he waved her in. His cigarette fell from his mouth twice as he tried to light it and speak to her at the same time.
“You should have worn your hat,” said Donald.
“So no one would recognize me?” asked Catherine, “It’s hardly inconspicuous.”
“I meant the rain,” said Donald as he tried not to choke after taking a long drag, “But I understand what you mean. Are you ready to talk to the mother?”
Catherine said yes and Donald tossed his smoke and turned to go back in the house, but before he could climb past the tape Catherine grabbed his arm to stop him.
“Listen, she’s not... I mean the girl, is she still in there?” Catherine asked nervously.
“No, they took her away,” said Donald, “I wouldn’t have called you until after she was gone.”
Catherine had never seen a dead body before, and was not in a hurry to see one now. If she was going to take up the habit of investigating murders one day she may have to actually study human remains. At the moment, she just didn’t know how that would actually help with her particular talents. An event like this felt like it was out of her league, but as she fingered the ancient copper talisman in her coat pocket, maybe it wasn’t above her at all.
Donald introduced her to the horribly dishevelled mother. Mrs. Bowers was a frumpy sunken woman who appeared to be aging before Catherine’s eyes. As she explained what the police had done since her husband discovered the body in her daughter’s bedroom, the tale of tragedy was almost too much to bear. Mrs. Bower was facing the prospect of not just losing a daughter to murder, but having a second younger daughter being brought up on juvenile charges for it as well.
“That’s why I asked your friend to call you,” said Mrs. Bower as she chocked back tears, “I don’t expect you to find the murderer, I just need you to clear my dear Anne.”
“Why would the police suspect your daughter?” asked Catherine.
Mrs. Bowers sobbed into a troubled history of violence in the family that led to counselling, and her murdered daughter Judy almost winding up in juvenile hall on several occasions. She was often cruel to her younger sister, and had a long-standing history of being a bully at her local school. This was something Mrs. Bowers usually kept in, but as a little slipped out she just began blurting every cruel act Judy ever performed since childhood, thinking there was something chemically imbalanced with her. Heavy sobbing came from the grieving mother when she got to the actual act of how Judy died.
Catherine comforted Mrs. Bower as best she could, and Donald said she didn’t have to explain any more. He had a good overview of the police’s entailing as to how they believed events took place within the Bower’s home. There was something Donald wanted to show Catherine, something her unique talents would probably make good use of. The murder weapon was still upstairs.
“Where’s the father?” asked Catherine as she climbed up the stairs following Donald.
“He’s at the police station, with his daughter Anne,” said Donald, “There’s Judy’s room on the left.”
The room looked perfectly neat and normal, except for the police tape on the carpet floor outlining where the body was found. There was a crime scene investigator working in Anne’s room who was ignoring them. He was wearing surgical gloves and a white coat, collecting what Catherine assumed should be DNA evidence. On Judy’s bed there was brand new copy of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. The binding of the hard cover was badly caved in like it had smashed against something.
Catherine pointed to it and asked, “Is that-?”
“The murder weapon,” said Donald, “Forensics claims it was clubbed down on Judy’s temple and she was struck dead on the spot.”
“You can kill someone that way?” asked Catherine.
“If you strike them right on the temple,” said Donald, “I’ve never actually seen it, but the police say a simple open palm brought down right on this spot could possibly kill a grown man instantly.”
Donald tapped the right side of his upper forehead.
“What makes them think Anne did this?” asked Catherine.
“Anne already confessed to being in the house at the time of the murder,” said Donald, “They were in here alone with the doors locked. No sign of forced entry. Anne also confessed to being in a fight with her sister but says she ran off to a friend’s house afterward with her sister still alive in here. The cops figured she killed her in a fit and ran, maybe didn’t even mean to. I don’t think they’re going to press capital murder charges, I’d say at the most this is going to be ruled second degree murder. But there is one troubling element that implies she intended to kill her sister.”
“What’s that?” asked Catherine.
“The family had two copies of the new book,” said Donald, “Since both copies were found in this room after the murder, it points to the probability that Anne must have taken her book into her sister’s room and struck her dead with it.”
“Wait a minute,” asked Catherine, “Why would they have two copies of the book?”
“Hell, have you seen Harry Potter fans?” asked Donald, “They’re so worked up about the release of this sixth book there’s no way these girls could wait to have turns at reading it. They each had to get their own copy.”
Catherine shook her head. Then she got to work at clearing her mind to get in contact with her spiritual guide. This was going to be a time when she really needed her help. Out of her coat pocket she took out her talisman. It was a long and delicate copper trinket that hung on a brass chain. The talisman was a long shaft with a quarts crystal mounted on the end, hexagonal in shape encased in a silver cage. It was counter balanced on the other end by a copper ring mounted flat sideways onto the shaft, making a Gaelic symbol of the sun. Halfway down the shaft another copper shaft branched off making a “Y” shape that framed the ring.
The talisman was extremely ancient and its true origins remained unknown to Catherine. She had studied ancient runes and druid religions in college in an attempt to discover what the talisman truly was but she had never figured it out. In fact, the one function it had performed before her was discovered quite by accident. Down the side of the copper shaft were several symbols of Bind runes that represented the worst elements of human emotions and intent. Things that Catherine would never likely experience in her lifetime, until one time someone tried to steal it from her and she saw within the crystal the rune symbol for death.
Catherine was raised by her mother in the ways of the Wicca religion, her father was (as she was led to believe her whole life) an Irish protestant, but this talisman belonged to her father, not her mother. What it was doing in his possession was a complete mystery to her. She always figured it was just some old relic he didn’t know what to do with. This talisman was extremely powerful; someone in his family must have known something about it. She held it up to the murder weapon sitting on the bed and looked through the crystal. In the crystal she saw, as plain in sight as any print she ever read, the rune symbol for protection.
“This isn’t the murder weapon,” said Catherine.
“Are you sure?” asked Donald.
“Judy tried to shield herself with this book,” said Catherine, “That’s why it’s smashed in, someone tried to strike her, hitting the book. They probably knocked it out of her hands and then struck her dead.”
“Where is the murder weapon?” asked Donald.
Hanging the talisman like a pendulum with the crystal end pointing down, Catherine again cleared her mind. The pendulum slowly began to sway and made a weak circle, then it just stopped and hung dead.
“It’s not here,” said Catherine.
“This is serious, how do we prove it?” asked Donald.
Daringly Catherine approached the book sitting on the bed. Holding out the tip of the talisman she touched it to the edge of the book cover and lifted it up. On the blank inside page there was Judy Bower’s signature and address to return the book to if it was ever lost.
“That’s her book alright,” said Donald, “But it doesn’t prove Anne didn’t strike her with it.”
“Where’s the other copy?” asked Catherine.
Donald pointed to Judy’s desk and there was another brand new Harry Potter book sitting next to the computer in pristine condition. For a moment Catherine thought about what she was doing, then she put on her gloves. She opened the hard cover, it was very stiff, and she saw there was no signature on the inside. Quickly she let go, got to her feet and ran to the staircase to call to Mrs. Bower.
“This is really important,” Catherine pressed in a loud firm voice, “Did your daughter read Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince?”
“Yes,” the mother called back up, “She read it as soon as she got home.”
Catherine slapped her hand on the railing and looked to Donald.
“Somebody else had to be here!” said Catherine, almost shouting, “We have to call the police station and tell them they’re making a horrible mistake!”
“What is it?” asked Donald.
Donald called over the forensic investigator to the bedroom as Catherine picked up the copy of Harry Potter that was on the desk. She held it up to show the spine was so stiff the pages wouldn’t hang open.
“That book on the bed you think is the murder weapon belonged to Judy Bowen, not Anne Bowen,” said Catherine, “And this book HAS NEVER BEEN READ. It’s brand new, pristine condition with no name scribbled inside and the spine isn’t bent. This can’t be Anne’s book, or Judy’s. They both would have read their copies the moment they got them so it has to belong to somebody else.”
“Who does it belong to, then?” asked Donald.
“The murderer,” said Catherine.
The forensic officer took the book and agreed right away this definitely pointed to new evidence. The job that was requested of Catherine may have been done, but she didn’t want to leave it at that. She clicked Judy’s computer, turning off the screen saver and then turned on the Internet browser, clicking on history, she saw that the history files had been deleted.
Catherine wanted to swear, but she had proven one thing. The murderer was here and tried to erase records of communication on the Internet, attempting to erase their connection to the murder victim. The forensic officer knew how to recover deleted files and he accessed a DOS window to recover the history of where Judy had been.
“We can pick it up from here,” he said as he held a cell phone talking to the police station, “You better leave this to us.”
Down the stairs Catherine went, successful but determined not to let this go. Taking off her gloves she confronted Mrs. Bower in the kitchen. With some forceful prodding she got her to confess she used Spyware to monitor her daughters’ Internet use, and led them to the computer the parents’ use in the den. With it Catherine performed her own exhaustive search of Internet files.
“Look at these old notices in her email,” said Catherine as she read off the screen, “Judy was recently banned from several Harry Potter sights. Mugglenet banned her, Fiction Alley, there’s several others. All the biggest places on the net. Bloody hell, what do you do when you’ve been kicked off of every major Harry Potter website on the Internet?”
“You make your own?” said Donald.
Catherine snapped her fingers at Donald and shook her head quickly in agreement. In the history cache she found it. A website with a simple cgi-bin interface that allowed people to post messages back and forth. It was named after the suburb that Bower’s family lived in. When she clicked on archived messages she found that page only ever had nine users.
“That’s it!” said Catherine, “Donald, find out who’s the server for the Bowers and tell them the police need to know who are the subscribers for all the IP’s listed on this website. We’re also going to need access to the financial records of all these subscribers within the past 24 hours.”
“Don’t you mean at least 48 hours?” asked Donald, “The Harry Potter book was sold at midnight yesterday.”
“No I don’t.”
Hours later Catherine was sitting patiently in Donald’s car, being pelted by a heavy downpour in the parking lot of police headquarters. As she waited she had a copy of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince in her lap that she had just bought after leaving the Bower’s home and was reading it furiously. The motive for the murder was in this book, she was certain of it. Most of her life was spent reading books and novels and hunting them down in obscure shops. An avid speed-reader, she could go through 200 pages in a single hour. Although she came across what she was certain had to be the motive about 500 pages in, she finished the whole book just to be certain. Donald came out of the police headquarters running through the rain with papers over his head and Catherine held the driver’s side door open for him.
“You have no idea how many favours I had to call in for this,” said Donald, “You’re lucky they just got an upgrade that can cross reference both Internet service providers and retail purchase records on the same system or it would have taken weeks to get these.”
“How many of them bought the book yesterday?” asked Catherine.
“Eight,” said Donald.
“Throw them out,” said Catherine.
“Are you sure?”
“Motive, Donald, we need motive,” said Catherine, “Who’s left?”
Donald handed her the sheet and she read the address out loud. Looking at a map Catherine noticed the address was right on the same bus route that went right past the Bower’s house, but then, she always noticed bus routes. Donald read out loud that the house had a couple living in it named the Collins. They had a grown son who lived outside of London and one fifteen year old daughter named Ivy. The rain beat down on their heads as they gathered on the doorstep of this strange house. A very tall and frail looking blonde woman answered the door, looking afraid.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“Mrs. Collins?” asked Catherine.
The woman shook her head yes and Donald jumped in saying, “We’re from the police department, we’re investigating a murder.”
“What are you, a detective?” asked Mrs. Collins.
“No, I’m a crime scene photographer,” said Donald, “But I hold the field rank of Sergeant.”
“What are you?” Mrs. Collins asked of Catherine.
“I’m... a private investigator working for the family of the victim,” said Catherine.
“A private...? Don’t they usually send police detectives for this sort of thing?” asked Mrs. Collins.
“They’ll be here soon enough,” said Donald, “Mrs. Collins, I need to ask. Do you know where your daughter was at 10 am this morning?”
“You think my daughter was involved in a murder?” Mrs. Collins screamed in a shrill voice, “There’s no way she could have done this! She was out this morning to buy that new Harry Potter book. She didn’t have a chance to buy it yesterday because we grounded her! She wanted to be there right when the store opened. She would have been in line for that all morning. There’s no way she could have been involved in a murder!”
Mrs. Collins slammed the door on them, and Catherine and Donald quietly stood in the rain. Police sirens could be heard approaching them and Catherine looked off. The rain building up on her rimless glasses made the flashing lights a blur to her vision.
“They figured it out,” she said, “We better get out of their way.”
They sat in Donald’s beaten up station wagon and watched it all go by. The police coming to the door, producing a warrant, forcing their way in. Leading away a young girl, tall for her age, with scraggly hair screaming and wailing about Judy. All this time while they were alone, Donald had conspicuously never thought to light another cigarette. Catherine borrowed Donald’s camera and peered through the telephoto lens to look in through the open door. There was a police officer handling a ruined copy of Harry Potter and The Half Blood Prince, smashed in on one side but unlike the copy in Judy’s room it had a prominent bloodstain on it.
“Murder weapon, there it is,” said Catherine, who then handed the camera back to Donald.
Donald peeked himself, then started to load his camera as he had to get to work.
“Christ, Cathy, how did you know?” he asked.
“I wasn’t sure until I read the book,” said Catherine, “But there was an event in there that convinced me there was a motive for murder.”
“What on earth could it be?” asked Donald.
“J.K. Rowling kills off Dumbledore,” said Catherine.
“NO WAY!” Donald blurted out, “But... I don’t get it. Why would this lead to Judy being murdered?”
“Motive,” said Catherine, “It’s all about motive. Judy had been banned from several Harry Potter websites because she broke their most important rule, and they were afraid she would break it again so they all kicked her off just before the sixth book came out.”
“What rule?”
“Spoilers,” said Catherine, “She blabbed constantly and even bragged she had spoiled book five for many people. So, the only place where she could go and spoil book six for anyone was on her own website. Since it’s her website, it’s her rules. She probably felt she was entitled to talk about it any way she wanted. Most people would have read the book by the time Judy was through with it, but there was one girl who didn’t have a chance to read the book the first day it came out, Ivy Collins. Her own mother explained it all to us. She was grounded the day Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince first came out, and Judy spoiled it for her.”
“Christ almighty,” said Donald, “But that thing about standing in line this morning. Do you think she would have had the chance to buy the book and then kill Judy?”
“Obviously she did,” said Catherine, “The police must have figured it out when they traced the ISBN number of the book Ivy left behind in Judy’s room. If she reserved a copy, her name would be on file at the store she bought it from. Besides, I bought my copy in a just a few seconds when we stopped by, Ivy wouldn’t have had much of a problem this morning getting her own copy. All the lining up anyone would have had to do would have been yesterday.
“She bought the book, then on her way home she stopped by the Bower’s place. Ivy must have arrived right after Anne ran off. I’ll bet Anne left the front door open, then Ivy went upstairs, and found Anne’s book. My guess is Anne dropped it in the hall after fighting with Judy. Ivy then kills Judy but takes the book with her in hopes of hiding evidence. Then she left her own copy to throw the police off thinking there was nothing missing. It almost worked. When she leaves she shuts the front door behind her, locking it, so everyone mistakenly thinks Judy was secure in her house when she was murdered.”
“But there’s something I don’t understand,” said Donald, “If she took the murder weapon with her to hide evidence, why didn’t she try to destroy it?”
“Because, silly, she’s a Harry Potter fan,” said Catherine, “She had to READ IT first, then she would have discarded it.”
“Aaaah!” said Donald as he raised his finger, “That’s why you were in such a hurry to find her. Once she was through reading it she’d probably burn it or flush the pages down the toilet or something.”
“Bingo,” said Catherine, “Still, this was not a very well thought out murder. This was just an angry lashing out. Maybe Ivy didn’t even mean to kill Judy. She just wanted to get even for ruining the experience for her and it led to this fluke series of events that unfortunately implicated Anne.”
“Speaking of ruining the experience, you sure ruined the book for me!” said Donald, “Dumbledore dies! Did you have to tell me that?”
“I just wanted to express the impact this would have had for a motive,” said Catherine as she waved her copy of the book at Donald, “Besides, I never told you HOW he died.”
“Right,” said Donald as he took the book and put it on his dashboard, “It’s going to take me a week to finish that, so try not to spoil anything else for me.”
“Well you gotta know what happens to Hermione and Ron!” said Catherine.
“Stop it!”
“And you’ll never believe who has a big kiss at the end!”
“Shut up!”
“And I never would have believed Snape could ever-“
“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”
Donald put his hands over his ears and ran out into the rain going “La la la la la I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” as Catherine kept teasing him as he went. She shut the door and laughed. Spoilers were bastards, for sure, but did they deserve to die for it? Catherine figured this was a tragic case of crippling teenage angst. A heartless bully on one end, reaching out to just hurt people, and an obsessed victim on the other end who had been pushed too far. If Ivy knew where Judy lived, there was obviously some history between them. Catherine could easily imagine the tragic relationship like so many she suffered in her own life with girls pretending to be friends just to play cruel mind games. It was something she did not want to relive as she remembered the alienation and ridicule from being raised on the Wicca religion. Now this children’s book was making her and her kind “trendy”, maybe she would even be popular if she were back in school these days. Still, she would not care to find out.
Author's Note:
When I wrote this story back in January, I honestly had no idea Dumbledore was going to die in book 6, and the only reason why I chose that as a story plotline was because I figured there was no way it would happen and not serve as an actual spoiler.