Belgravia Mews
Harry was dreaming about flying on the bike. Ginny was on the pillion seat, she was snuggling into his back and her arm was draped loosely around his chest. They were warm, cosy, and together, and someone was calling his name.
'Auror Potter!' The woman's voice was low, but urgent.
Harry grumbled and opened an eye to discover that much of his dream was true. He was, indeed warm and cosy, Ginny's arm was lying across his ribs, and she was snuggled into his back. However, he wasn't flying; he was lying on his side facing the edge of his bed. The woman's voice was coming from his bedside table. As he reached over towards it, he disturbed Ginny.
'Wha' time izt?' Ginny mumbled.
'Go back to sleep,' he whispered, gently disentangling himself from her arm.
'Auror Potter, Auror Potter.' The voice was getting louder.
Harry swung his legs out of bed and sat up; looking down into the small mirror on his bedside table, he placed a finger on it.
'Potter here,' he said curtly. Behind him, Ginny yawned.
'Are you alone Mr Potter?' the woman asked curiously.
'What is it?' Harry asked.
'Are you alone Mr Potter?' the voice repeated.
'That is none of your business,' Harry replied in a whisper. 'Who are you, what time is it, and what do you want?'
'My name is Linda Janus and I work for the Muggle Monitoring Service,' said the woman resentfully. 'It is now five thirty-seven a.m. and I am simply following your orders, Mr Potter. The Muggle police have been called to a suspicious death at a Ministry monitored location, number twenty-seven Belgravia Mews. A Muggle is dead in suspicious circumstances. Cause of death is currently unknown, but there is a witness report claiming that there was a flash of green light at the scene.'
'I'm on my way.' Harry was instantly awake. 'Thanks, Linda. Sorry I was grumpy, but I had a late night, and you woke me up. Goodbye.'
'Wassup?' Ginny asked the moment Harry broke the connection. Blinking blearily, she struggled to sit up in bed.
'Sorry, Ginny. Auror Office business,' he said, leaning across the bed and kissing her cheek. 'I need to go. I have a suspicious death to investigate. You go back to sleep. You don't need to be back in Holyhead for another four hours, and you need to be rested for training. You've got a big match coming up.' He grabbed his clothes as quickly and quietly as he could, disturbed Ginny with another farewell kiss, and tiptoed along to his bathroom to wash and dress.
Harry rode his motorbike along Birdcage Walk towards Belgravia. To his right, St James's Park was deserted, to his left, in Wellington Barracks, half-a dozen guardsmen in red tunics and bearskin hats were mustering. A little over half a mile behind him, Big Ben rang six times ensuring that he knew the exact time. Minutes later, he was turning right off Buckingham Palace Road.
The crime scene was easy to find. An ambulance and several police cars, all with blue lights flashing, were clustered around the entrance to a mews, preventing vehicular access. The narrow access had been cordoned off with blue and white police tape, and a rather bored-looking policeman stood guard.
Parking behind a police car, Harry took off his helmet and fastened it to the bike. Crouching down behind the bike, out of sight of the now much more interested policeman, he pulled his wallet from his pocket. Over the roof of the police cars, he could see the man's custodian helmet moving. After he'd radioed a report, the policeman would approach, so Harry moved quickly. Unfolding the wallet, he pulled out his long black trench coat, removed it from the hangar, and laid it across the bike saddle. He lifted his Sneakoscope from the wallet, too. It was silent and unmoving, but he placed it in his coat pocket, just in case. Putting the dragonskin bike jacket onto the hanger, he placed it inside his wallet, refolded the wallet down to its usual size, slid his identity card from it, and pulled on his coat.
This would be the first time he'd tested the card. Hoping that it would work, he walked confidently forwards. The middle-aged constable, who had been moving towards him, stopped and closely watched his approach. The policeman stood next to the white painted arch which formed the entrance to the Mews. A blue sign on the wall next to him proclaimed "Private Mews - Residents Only", this was an expensive and exclusive part of London.
'Harry Potter, Auror Office.' He introduced himself to the policeman, and showed him the identity card. 'I need to speak to the Senior Investigating Officer. Who would that be?'
The constable took the card from Harry's hand and examined it carefully. Harry J Potter, Auror Office, Special Intelligence Division, Home Office. The official looking card contained Harry's photograph and carried the Home Office Crest. The policeman raised an eyebrow.
'DCI Abberline,' the policeman pointed to an overweight, florid faced man in his fifties who was standing outside an open door about halfway down the narrow, cobbled mews. 'You'd best go through Mr Potter.'
Detective Chief Inspector Abberline was talking to two other plainclothes officers, a thin-faced man in his early thirties and a beefy woman whose long white-blonde hair was tied back into a ponytail. The woman was the first to spot him and Harry saw her say something to the large man.
'Chief Inspector Abberline,' Harry called. As the large man turned to see who was approaching, Harry held out his hand. 'Harry Potter, Auror Office,' he said, showing Abberline his identification. 'I'm sorry to disturb you, but it's possible that my office may have an interest in this case.'
Abberline looked at the identity card, then at Harry, and scowled. He took Harry's proffered hand and gave it a bone cracking squeeze, Harry did the same, and when they finally finished, the Detective Inspector looked at Harry with some respect.
'Spooks recruiting toddlers these days are they?' Abberline growled. 'You're barely out of nappies lad. And they've sent you to a suspicious death? Have you come to close us down because of national security? Or are you interested in the body?
'I don't know yet, sir.' Harry chose his words carefully. 'I'm simply here to check the crime scene, and make sure that we don't need to get involved. Have you identified the victim?
'Sagar, who's the stiff?' Abberline asked.
'Daniel Garner McCoy, guv.' The woman provided the answer instantly. 'SOCO have just found his passport. It's definitely him, and he's a US citizen.'
Abberline groaned and swore, 'I hope you buggers are involved. You can deal with the US Embassy. Rather you than me, Potter. Is he the man you're interested in?'
The detective was watching Harry carefully, trying to decide how helpful to be.
'I've no idea who he is,' Harry replied. 'He was renting the place, I assume.'
Abberline looked at the thin-faced man and nodded, giving him permission to speak.
'We think so,' the thin-faced male detective replied. 'I'm DI Godley, local CID. We haven't been able to trace the owner yet, d'you know who it belongs to?'
'The property is owned by Sir Julian Finch-Fletchley,' said Harry. 'But it's the London residence of his son, Justin, who is out of the country at the moment.'
'And you know where, I suppose.' Abberline growled, lighting up a cigarette. 'You're not interested in the victim, are you? It's the owner you're watching.'
'He's in Romania,' Harry replied. 'Will you need to speak to him?'
'It's a possible burglary/murder, son. If the dead Yank was renting the place furnished, of course we'll want to speak to this Fletch-Finchley bloke. It don't matter how rich or important he is,' sneered Abberline. 'Now, can we get to work?'
'Of course,' Harry said, 'I'd like to see the body, and the flat; and I want to speak to whoever reported the incident.'
'The last is easy! Beat Plod,' Inspector Godley said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder to indicate three uniformed officers standing a few yards away. 'Four years in the job and she's lost it already, reckons a magician did it,' he continued.
Harry tried to keep a poker face at Godley's words, but he was convinced that Chief Inspector Abberline had registered his sudden interest.
'I'll speak to the constable first,' Harry said. 'And then have a look at the scene, if that's all right with you, Chief Inspector.'
'Let's just assume that I said it wasn't all right,' said Abberline his flabby face contorting with cautious cunning. 'Let's just suppose that I tell you to bugger off and leave me to do my job, because you've got no right to be here. What happens then?'
'I contact my boss, who contacts his boss, who contacts the Home Secretary, who contacts the Commissioner of Police of the Metropolis. Then it is alright. And I do my job whether you like it or not,' Harry replied. 'Sorry, sir, but that's how it is.'
Abberline coughed and spat grey phlegm onto the cobbles.
'Bloody spooks,' he said to his colleagues. 'We'll be flamin' lucky to find out what's going on here. Talk to SOCO before you go inside, Potter.'
He strode into the house, his two colleagues at his heels.
Harry turned and walked over to speak to the uniformed officers. Two men, one wearing sergeants stripes were talking to a young woman. She was, Harry thought, older than he was, but only by two or three years. She looked pale but determined.
'Hello, I'm Harry Potter. Detective Inspector Godley told me that you reported this incident,' said Harry. 'He didn't tell me your name.'
The woman looked at him curiously. 'Beadle,' she said, 'PC Roberta Beadle.'
Harry examined her closely, she was an inch or so shorter than him and broad of shoulder. Her face was thin and her hair, what little of it protruded from beneath her uniform bowler hat, was dark brown and cropped short. PC Beadle's brown eyes were sharp and inquisitive, and she was definitely sizing him up with a professional eye.
'I realise that you've already spoken to DI Godley, constable,' Harry said. 'But I'd be grateful if you could tell me what happened.'
'You've told me your name, but nothing else,' Constable Beadle told him. 'Who do you work for? Why are you here?'
He silently showed her his identification.
'Auror Office,' she said curiously. 'Never heard of it!'
'Not surprising, we only get involved in the strange stuff.' Harry told her.
Constable Beadle gave a short, sarcastic, laugh.
'Strange,' she said. She stared thoughtfully into his face. 'Well, you've found strange all right. You asked for it.'
With the straightforward professionalism of someone trained to make witness statements, PC Beadle told Harry what she had seen. She had been walking along the main road, Belgravia Road, at about half past four in the morning when she had noticed an open front door. Assuming a burglary, possibly still in progress, she had radioed for assistance and then walked down the cobbled lane as quietly as she could. She was, she admitted, "hoping for a collar", but when she was halfway down the mews towards the door when she heard a man shout "get outta my house". Constable Beadle stopped and looked straight into Harry's face.
'I had my spray in one hand, my baton in the other, so I ran forwards. Then … this is the weird bit,' she said. She looked fiercely into his eyes, obviously expecting him to dismiss her next words, and continued. 'I told Inspector Godley this, but he just laughed at me. I heard another voice, it shouted something. I'm not sure what, but it sounded a lot like "Abracadabra." There was a flash of green light from inside. I saw it through the open door. As I ran towards the door, a young man ran out. He was about your height, thin-faced and blond. He had a sack over one shoulder, it looked heavy.'
'I thought that he had a gun.' Constable Beadle said defensively, 'He certainly pointed something at me. I wasn't close enough to spray him, so stopped and put my hands up. But when I got a good look, I realised that he was only carrying a stick. I started to move towards him, and that's when we both heard the sirens approaching. He took off. He ran that way.' She pointed to the opposite end of the Mews. The cobbled lane continued, and led out onto a different street which, Harry noticed, was also secured by a police officer. 'I got to the arch a second or two after him, but just as I got there I heard a gunshot. I thought he must have a gun after all, that he was shooting at me, but I was running too fast to stop. I barrelled out of the mews—but he'd gone. There was no sign of him anywhere.'
'He was carrying a stick?' Harry asked neutrally.
It looked like a stick, a bit of wood, about this long.' She held her hands about a foot apart.
'That guy inside is dead, I think I saw his killer, and he got away. It was like he just vanished into thin air.' The constable shook her head sadly. 'This won't look good on my record. I've been trying for a transfer into CID. I've no chance now, especially not with this crazy story. But,' she looked earnestly at Harry. 'Crazy or not, I know what I saw.'
'Thank you,' Harry said. 'I need to contact my colleagues, if you'll excuse me.'
He walked some distance away from the police woman and pulled his battered gold watch and his mirror from his pocket. It was still only six-twenty. Sorry Ron,, he thought. He spoke into the mirror.
'Ron Weasley,' he said clearly. There was no reply.
'Ron, time to go to work mate.' This time he heard a muffled grunt.
'Ron, wakey wakey,' he tried again, raising his voice. Finally, he got a reply, but it wasn't Ron.
'What's wrong, Harry?' Hermione asked. She peered out from his mirror, sleep-befuddled and tousle-haired.
'I'm in Belgravia. There's been a burglary at Justin's place. A Muggle has been killed and it sounds like the Avada Kedavra. Do me a favour and rouse sleeping beauty please. It would help if you could drive him over. He can't Apparate, because the place is crawling with police and there's CCTV everywhere. Ask Ron to contact the office to let them know where we are. I think it would be a good idea for him to call Fenella, too. Now that we finally have our own photographer, we should use her.'
'Okay, Harry. We'll be right there,' Hermione said. 'Wake up, Ron!' He heard her shout.
'Goodbye,' said Harry, breaking the connection. He placed the mirror back in his pocket.
Harry sensed movement behind him. He whirled round reaching into his coat for his wand. He was face to face with Roberta Beadle. She stepped back defensively and he wondered what she had overheard.
'I'm expecting some colleagues,' he told her sharply. 'Mr Ron Weasley and Miss Hermione Granger will be arriving soon. Make sure that the officer at the entrance knows to let them past, will you?'
Harry stepped past her and walked towards the open door. He was met by Chief Inspector Abberline, who was lighting up another cigarette as he stepped out of the house.
'Spoken to the plod?' Abberline asked.
'Yes, she tells an interesting story.'
'Interesting,' Abberline grunted. 'That's one way to put it. She radioed in with a call of "shot fired" and dead body. The alert call went straight to MIT, to me, and also to SO19, We've still got a couple of ARV's patrolling the area, just in case. It's a bloody good job that our door to door confirms that several of the neighbours heard a loud bang; otherwise the plod would be in serious bovver. Even so, the dead Yank in there ain't been shot. The Doc. doesn't know how he died.'
'Not a mark on him,' Harry suggested. 'It looks like he might have died of a heart attack?' Abberline looked surprised, but nodded. 'It could still be manslaughter?' Harry asked. 'If Mr McCoy disturbed a burglar and died of a heart attack?'
Abberline shrugged, 'We'd never make manslaughter stick, even if we catch the bugger.'
'We'll be making a separate investigation, Chief Inspector,' Harry told him. 'This case is definitely of interest to the Auror Office. It's up to you, of course, but I think you can probably tell the Armed Response Vehicles to stand down. I'm fairly certain that your suspect is long gone. Has the body been moved yet?'
Abberline shook his head. 'Nah, we're waiting for SOCO to finish.'
'I'll need to see it myself first.'
'Seen a dead 'un before, son?' Abberline asked snidely. 'Or will you need a sick bag?'
Harry looked him steadily in the eye.
'I've lost count,' he said sadly. 'If you've got this down as a heart attack, Inspector, I can guarantee that I've seen worse.'
Abberline's eyes showed his surprise, but he shrugged dismissively. 'Follow me, sonny, and don't touch anything.'
The portly detective gave Harry an assessing look, and then waddled through the door and into the hall. Harry was at his heels. The hall was small and crowded. A door at the far end led into a kitchen, a door on the right led into a small living room. A man lay in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes open and staring. His short cropped dark hair was just beginning to recede, and an expression of surprise was frozen on his dead face. The man was wearing a pair of boxer shorts, nothing else. He was slim, fit-looking and his thirties.
A doctor wearing a forensic suit stood up from his examination and scratched his head.
'Heart attack for cause of death, Doc?' Abberline asked.
The doctor looked puzzled, and shrugged. 'Possibly, we'll need to do a post mortem to find out. It looks like he just … stopped being alive.'
Abberline looked at Harry curiously. 'Care to add anything to the Doc's report?' he asked. Harry bent down over the corpse and examined it carefully.
'No, sorry,' Harry said. 'What's through there?' He pointed into the living room.
'Oh, you'll like this,' Abberline grumbled. He led Harry into the room. There was only one window, which looked out into the mews. A hole had been blasted in the rear wall, but there was no debris, merely a pile of ash on the floor. Harry recognised the signs. Someone had used the Reductor curse. They had forced their way into a secret room to the rear of the living room. Harry's heart sank. He reached inside his coat for his wand and strode across to the hole. Inspector Godley and Sergeant Sagar were examining a row of jars on shelves along one wall. Even from across the room, Harry could immediately identify the contents.
'Out, now!' Harry ordered.
Abberline growled. 'Stay there,' he ordered.
Harry glared at Abberline, 'Get them out, now. That stuff's dangerous, possibly explosive.'
Abberline looked ready to argue.
'That's an order,' Harry said, 'I don't want to make that call to my boss. Let me go in alone. You can watch me if you want. But get them out, now.'
'You two, out,' Abberline ordered. 'I'll be watching, you son, so don't try anything.'
Harry let Godley and Sagar climb out, and then carefully clambered through the hole. He began to examine the room carefully. Justin's school books, and several other spell books, were neatly stacked on shelves along the left hand wall. There were several gaps on the shelves where a number of books had been removed.
The back wall contained a desk, several worn quills and a large roll of parchment. Next to the desk were a set of scales, a cauldron and an expensive school trunk. The lid of trunk had a brass plate etched with the word Finch-Fletchley – Hufflepuff.
The right hand wall contained shelves of potion ingredients. Various jars had been taken from there, too.
Harry turned his attention to the wall blasted open by the Reductor curse. At one end there was a magically hidden door leading back into the living room. Although well hidden on the outside, the door was plainly visible to him from inside the store room.
'Have you moved anything?' Harry called.
'We're not stupid, son,' Inspector Godley replied. 'Of course we haven't.'
Harry examined the secret room a second time, moving very carefully and taking his time. Justin was very neat and tidy. Harry pulled parchment and quill from his pocket and quickly listed the books and ingredients he thought were missing. With his back to the hole, so that Abberline could not see what he was doing, he silently cast a Muggle repelling charm over the room.
Harry turned back to Abberline.
'My mistake, no explosives, robbery is your motive. There are some very expensive bottles of wine, and some rare first editions missing. I'd like to double check before I give you a list. Fortunately, our resident bookworm is on her way.'
Harry stood in the hole and looked out at the three detectives.
'I realise that your scene of crime officers are photographing everything, but I've called in someone from my office, too. I'm going to take jurisdiction over this room. I don't even want your SOCO people in here.'
Abberline glared at Harry, and swore long and loud. The detective knew an impressive number of swear words and used many of them in very inventive ways, which Harry hadn't heard before. Harry simply listened in silence. He could understand why the Inspector was swearing. He had some sympathy for the man; he wouldn't like it if someone came in and took over his own investigation. Harry waited patiently and eventually Abberline lapsed into silence.
'Sorry Chief Inspector.'
'So, we're wasting our time here are we?' Abberline snapped, 'You won't tell me what's missing! You won't tell me what killed McCoy either! But you bloody well know, don't you? Effing spooks!'
'Sorry, national security,' Harry said. 'There is nothing more I can tell you. I'm just going to call my office.'
Harry turned his back on the detectives and silently cast the Muffliato spell. He spoke to Gawain Robards, Head of the Auror Office. While briefing his boss Harry mulled over how he'd approached this incident.
Hermione had always felt guilty about her use of a memory charm on her parents. With his help, she had persuaded the Ministry to avoid using memory alteration on Muggles wherever possible. He had discussed alternatives with his friends. Someone; Harry thought it was Hermione, she claimed it had been him, had the idea of making the Auror Office appear to be part of the Muggle Home Office. The idea was working, after a fashion.
The Muggle Police were allowing him to investigate, assuming that the Aurors were dealing with a security issue. If, as Harry suspected, the police investigation subsequently came to nothing, the cops would blame the Auror Office. Harry would not be popular with the Muggle police, but he could live with that.
The benefit was that, hopefully, the Auror Office would not need to use memory charms on anyone; except possibly that stubborn police woman. She insisted on telling her story accurately, even though she knew it was making her colleagues think that she was unstable.
It was going well, he thought, all things considered. Chief Inspector Abberline was getting more and more aggressive, but he'd accepted Harry as an Intelligence Officer (or spook, as he preferred). However, Abberline's abusive response showed that he had been pushed as far as he would go. Harry reluctantly asked Robards to make the call.
That done he replaced his mirror in his pocket and checked that his Muggle repelling spell was working. Satisfied, he dismissed his Muffliato spell, and climbed back out through the hole.
'My colleagues should be here any minute now.' he told Abberline as he walked outside. As he stepped into the mews, he heard a shout.
'Morning, Harry.' Ron shouted and waved.
Ron and Hermione were being escorted down the mews by PC Beadle. Ron, like Harry, was in his Auror uniform, Hermione was dressed in a conservative blue skirt and jacket.
'Bloody hell! It's a school outing.' Abberline shouted, stepping into the mews behind Harry. 'What's the name of this Intelligence Service you're working for? Do they only employ wet-behind-the-ears school leavers?'
'We're a specialist unit.' Harry said curtly, 'I'll introduce you.'
'Who's dead?' asked Ron urgently. 'It isn't … anyone we know, is it?'
'No,' Harry replied. 'The dead man is called McCoy, he's an American.'
This is Detective Chief Inspector Abberline,' Harry continued, 'He's head of the Major Incident Team. Inspector, these are my colleagues Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.'
'So, ginger, does your office employ anyone out of their teens?' Abberline asked Ron, aggressively. Ron blinked and blushed at the insult.
'We're both twenty-one,' Hermione bridled. 'And for your information...'
'The Inspector isn't happy with me,' said Harry quickly, interrupting Hermione, 'We're disrupting his investigation. Hermione, I know that you're not on our staff, but there's something I'd like you to take a look at. But, before you do, you need to know that there's a dead body in the hall, are you all right with that?'
Hermione blinked, but nodded. 'It isn't the first one I've seen,' she said sadly.
'Thanks, I'd like you to go into the back room, some books and … other items … are missing. Can you cast your expert eye over the library and the other shelves, and list what you think is missing. I think that whoever was in there knew what they wanted.'
'What about me, mate?' Ron asked.
Just look around, see if I've missed anything. Don't touch anything. I'll join you in a minute. Did you call the office?
'Yeah,' Ron nodded. 'Neville's on holiday in Cumbria, I'd forgotten. So it's just the three of us, like old times, eh? I spoke to Fenella, too. She said it would take a few minutes for her to get her gear together.'
When they walked into the house, Ron and Hermione were holding hands. Abberline snorted in disbelief. Harry sighed. It was not the behaviour of two professionals, but Ron was escorting his girlfriend past a corpse so it was certainly understandable.
A disturbance at the end of the mews attracted Harry's attention. A very tall, bespectacled young woman carrying a long black canvas bag was arguing with the uniformed policeman at the entrance to the mews. Harry ran towards her.
'Harry,' she shouted. 'The Muggles won't let me past and there's an Anti-Appar...'
'Fenella,' Harry yelled back, hurrying towards her, 'Remember where you are!' The girl stopped, blushing.
'S-sorry, Harry,' she stuttered as Harry reached her.
'She's with me,' Harry told the officers at the entrance to the mews. 'Technical support, she's new.'
'Name?' Constable Beadle asked. The crop-haired Constable was following him, Harry realised.
'Fenella Gray,' Harry told the constable.
He grabbed Fenella by the elbow and whispered, 'Next time, remember to use your identity card.'
'Sorry Harry,' she whispered. 'I'm not used to dealing with Muggles.' She stopped, and looked around in amazement. 'There are a lot of Muggle please-men here, aren't there?'
That was going to be Fenella Grey's biggest problem, Harry realised. She was a pureblood, and passing herself off as a Muggle had never been easy for her. He thought back to the first time he'd met the girl, at Colin Creevey's funeral. The Auror uniform helped. Like Ron and Harry, Fenella wore black trousers, a white shirt, grey tie and a black ankle-length, cloak-like coat. The photographer was, however, still rather uncomfortable in anything other than traditional witch's robes. She was a little more at ease in her uniform, than she had been when she'd first started, four months earlier, but at a fraction over six feet tall Fenella would never be inconspicuous.
'Do you know what you've come too, Fenella?' Harry asked worriedly.
'This is Justin Finch-Fletchley's place,' said Fenella quietly. 'It's been burgled and a Muggle's been killed. Was it the Avada …'
'Fenella,' Harry hissed. 'Be careful what you say.'
'Sorry, Harry,' she squeaked worriedly.
'That's okay, just keep your voice down,' Harry told her. 'The dead man is inside, are you going to be okay?'
'Oh yes,' she said confidently.
'Ron and Hermione are here too if you need any help.' Harry nodded towards Chief Inspector Abberline. 'That fat man smoking a cigarette will be rude to you. Don't answer any of his questions. In fact, don't speak to him at all if possible.' Harry stopped in the centre of the cobbled street, directly outside the open door to the house.
'I'd like images of the mews, then the hall, the living room, and the secret room. I'll leave you to it.' Harry gave Fenella's elbow a comforting squeeze and walked back towards Inspector Abberline, who was on a mobile phone.
'Bollocks!' the Inspector yelled. He angrily switched off the phone and glared at Harry. Lumbering forwards, he stepped up to Harry, not stopping until they were almost toe to toe. Leaning forwards until his nose was only inches from Harry's, he made his opinion clear. 'That was the Assistant Commissioner!' he bellowed. 'I've been ordered to "extend you every courtesy" and I'm "not to interfere in any way" with your investigations.'
He blew cigarette smoke into Harry's face, threw the remains of his cigarette onto the cobbles and ground it out under his heel.
'Bugger this for a game of soldiers,' he continued. 'This isn't one for the Major Incident Team. I'll be passing it over to local CID, unless you want to make an issue about that, too.'
'SAGAR!' he shouted so loudly he rattled the windows. The female detective hurried from the house.'
'Boss?'
'We're leaving! Let that local CID bloke … what's 'is name?'
'George Godley, DI Godley.'
'Yeah, that's 'im! Tell Godley that MIT are leaving and that I'm standing down the ARV's. If the Assistant Commissioner doesn't want me to interfere, I won't! We're buggering off! Let Godley know that he's in charge! This is a burglary, so the local CID can deal with it.'
He turned to PC Beadle, who had been watching the entire exchange.
'Chalk this one up to experience, darlin',' he growled. 'When the bloody spooks arrive, justice and procedure go straight out the window.' With that, Abberline stormed off out of the mews followed by DS Sagar. Constable Beadle was staring reproachfully at Harry.
'A man is dead,' she admonished, 'do you care?'
'Yes, I care,' Harry told her. 'We'll do our very best to bring the killer to justice.'
'Killer,' Beadle pounced eagerly on the word. Harry groaned inwardly at his slip.
'You know he was killed, and you know how, too, I'm sure! Do you know who?'
'I'm going to do my best to catch the person responsible,' Harry said carefully.
'Man responsible,' the police woman continued determinedly, 'IC1 male, five feet ten or eleven inches in height, greasy, almost white-blonde hair, noticeably pale skin.'
'IC1?' Harry asked.
PC Beadle looked at him curiously.
'White European,' she explained, 'I got a good look at him, show me a photo and I'll identify him.' Harry looked at her carefully. She wasn't going to give up, but she was powerless to investigate herself and Harry assured himself that she'd soon give up.
'That would be useful,' Harry told her. 'I'll see if I can round up some photographs for you. If I need to contact you, how do I do it?'
She pointed to her epaulettes. 'There's my collar number, Westminster Borough. I'm based at the Belgravia Nick; it's on Buckingham Palace Road. You've got my name, too. That's all you need, Mr Potter, sir,' she said, managing to put a huge amount of venom into her final word.
'Harry,' Ron shouted from the door. 'I've found something.'
Harry nodded politely to PC Beadle, and trotted back down to the doorway. He could not get inside as Fenella was carefully setting up her camera. The large tripod took up a huge amount of room.
'Found this under a chair in the living room.' Ron said excitedly. He handed Harry a green and silver badge with the letter P on it.
'Slytherin prefects badge,' Ron said. 'That git Malfoy…'
'The first police officer on the scene saw a young man, about my height, running away. He had greasy blonde hair and pale skin.' Harry interrupted.
Ron whooped with joy. 'You know what this means Harry?'
'Yes,' he said. 'Someone's trying to frame Draco Malfoy.'
Ron's face fell. 'Maybe it was Malfoy,' he suggested hopefully.
Harry shook his head, 'That dead Muggle says no. Draco's no killer, and whatever you think of him, Ron, Draco Malfoy is not stupid enough to bring a prefects badge with him on a burglary. It's almost three years since he finished school. Even if he had, he's certainly not careless enough to leave it behind. Someone's trying to set him up, someone who doesn't like him, someone with not many brains.' Harry stared up into his friend's eyes. 'So, Ronald Weasley, can you tell me where you were at five o'clock this morning?'
Ron burst out laughing. 'You sod, I owe you for that "not many brains," crack. You reckon it might be Goyle? If it is, it's our first real lead in almost a year.'
'He's a possibility, don't you think?' Harry asked. 'But Draco has other enemies.'
'I'll tell you something, mate,' Ron snorted. 'I'm not going to be the one that makes a list of Draco Malfoy's enemies. It'd take me months.'
There was a bright flash from inside the hall, and Fenella began moving her camera. To Harry's surprise, the dead body on the floor did not appear to worry her.
'Can you give Fenella a hand?' Harry asked, 'I want to see what Hermione has found.'
He squeezed past Fenella and made his way into the living room. The scenes of crime officers had left the room. From the noises above his head, he assumed that they were upstairs. Detective Inspector Godley had Hermione trapped in a corner. He was leaning towards her, his outstretched hand on the wall beside her head.
'Got anything for me, Hermione?' Harry asked. Hermione ducked under Godley's arm and hurried over to Harry.
'What a creep,' she muttered, as she reached Harry. 'Yes,' she said loudly. 'It's an interesting room. I've made a list of likely missing items for you.' Harry reached in his pocket and passed her his scribbled note.
'This was my effort,' he told her. 'Am I right?' He looked over Hermione's shoulder. Godley was listening to every word. Hermione read quickly down Harry's list.
'Close, mine is slightly different, but we agree on most items. Do you think this means…'
Harry lowered his voice and whispered in her ear. 'That the sales restrictions on polyjuice ingredients are working, yes. Once Fenella's photographed the secret room we'll clear it and leave. Then the police can do their job without interference.'
'Have you got everything you need from the hall, Fenella?' Harry asked as she and Ron walked into the living room.
'Yes, thanks, Harry,' said Fenella. As Fenella began to set up her camera, Ron caught Hermione's expression, and glared at DI Godley.
'Inspector,' Harry said. 'If you want to arrange to have Mr McCoy removed, that's fine by me. Fenella, we'll need photographs here and through there.' He indicated the hidden room. 'Once you're done we'll be able to leave.'
Detective Inspector Godley scowled, grunted and left the room to the young witches and wizards. Harry cast a Muffliato spell.
'We've outstayed our welcome,' Harry said. 'Fenella, photograph everything as quickly as you can, please. Ron, Hermione, when Fenella's done that can you clear the room of anything magical? Just pack everything into his school trunk and shrink it. I'm going upstairs to make sure there's nothing up there. I doubt it. Justin's not stupid enough to leave anything lying around, not if his Dad is renting his house out to a Muggle.'
Harry watched the body being removed and then quickly searched the upper floor. As he expected, he found nothing but clothing and other personal belongings of Daniel McCoy. Ten minutes later he was back downstairs.
While Ron and Hermione pushed the reduced trunk into Ron's wallet, which, like Harry's, contained an undetectable extension charm, Harry helped Fenella to pack her photographic equipment away. Apparently empty handed except for Fenella's camera bag, the four left the house and walked up the mews.
'We're finished here, Inspector,' Harry said politely. 'Thank you for your co-operation.'
'Co-operation!' Godley grumbled, 'It would be nice if we got some co-operation from you.'
'If we find anything which would help you catch the perpetrator, we'll let you know.' Harry told him, 'If you need to contact me, you can reach me on this number.' Harry handed Godley a business card.
As they walked up to the arch they were being closely watched by Constable Beadle. They ducked under the tape barrier and walked up to Hermione's bright red Mini.
'Could you drive Fenella back to the office, Hermione?' Harry asked quietly, 'Ron and I are going to Wiltshire. We need to ask our old friend Mr Malfoy a few questions.'
'Malfoy Manor,' said Hermione. She shivered, kissed Ron goodbye, and helped a worried looking Fenella into the car.
Friends and Foes by Northumbrian
Chapter Endnotes:
This chapter is heavy on UK Police jargon, so here is a glossary for non-Brits:CID = Criminal Investigation Division, the detective branch.
SOCO = Scenes of Crime Officers, the "Crime Scene Investigators".MIT = Major Incident (or Murder Investigation) Team, called out to investigate serious crimes.
SO19 = The Metropolitan Police Armed Response Unit consisting solely of "Authorised Firearms Officers" (they are now called CO19, as they are no longer a "Special Operations" unit but a "Central Operations" unit, however, the use is correct for the year in which this story is set). These are those very unusual policemen who actually carry guns.ARV = Armed Response Vehicle, a police car containing firearms and operated by Authorised Firearms Officers from SO19.
Thanks, as always, to Amelie for her beta work.