A/N: This is the sequel to my previous Great Gatsby/Harry Potter crossover story, "Curious." This is really kind of dark, so here's your second warning: please don't read incase you think you might be even slightly triggered. It's rated M for a reason.
Also: I will be posting a new story, "A Reunion of the Senses," on Thursday, about The Martian, if you're interested.
XOXO, Helix.
Disclaimer: I don't own The Great Gatsby, Harry Potter, or Party City.
The four of them all leaned around the edge of the pool, disbelieving the massacre on the pneumatic mattress in the middle.
"My God," the chauffeur gasped. "What's happened to him?"
"He was ambushed!" The gardener realized for them.
Gatsby's butler...well, he just seemed to be in shock.
Nick swiped a hand down his face, his throat spasming.
Poor Jay. His poor, dear friend.
He tried to clear his head. One thing at a time. "We've got to get him out of the water."
The partying platform and its struts had been removed, which would have surely made retrieving him easier by a stretch, but Nick wasted no time jumping into the leaf-littered pink water and taking a fistful of the mattress so he could drag it slowly over to the tiled edge of the pool.
"Alright, Gatsby, alright," he mumbled. "Here we go. Hey, lift it by the corners. Try not to disturb his-"
"We've got him, son," the gardener reassured, and he and the chauffeur heaved the mattress and his body up onto the cement. While the two hovered over him, shaking their heads and muttering despicably about the horror of it, Nick stood thigh-deep in the swirling water and cried.
Once he regained enough of his mind to climb out, he did so.
The butler was staring at Gatsby's body, still face-down. He was as solemn as anything he'd ever seen.
Nick found that he couldn't quite look at the entry wound. His tears had blurred most everything, though, gratefully.
And so they carried the body inside-that was when the gardener spotted Wilson in the grass, just as dead as Gatsby was. He had been shot too, but they left him there, unsympathetically, for the police to deal with.
Of course, not one of them-not even Nick-noticed the plethora of criss-crossed lightning scars under all blood on Wilson's temple. A simple point-blank bombarda spell mimicked gunshot wounds-a perfect coverup for very worst of the Unforgivables.
After all, the Butler wouldn't want his prints on Wilson's dirty gun, and his wand had always worked just fine.
He turned away from the scene, satisfied that his employer had been properly avenged.
Avada Kedavra, old sport.
How else would he have cleaned that great big house if he wasn't secretly a wizard? If you feel inspired to do so, please review! (: