Ron yawned and stretched with his back clicking as he did so. He looked up to the nearest clock and gave a weary smile; it was nearly time to go home. He couldn't be bothered to do any more paperwork and there was no one left in the auror station, just a few fading lights flickering. He tossed his quill down and waved Harry goodbye as the head auror came out of his office.
'You any closer to clearing up that Dawson murder?'
'Sort of, we think we might have it linked with the Mythe crime family but when it comes to them you've got to have spell-tight evidence.'
'Well, if you need help, just say Ron. I may be your boss but I'm also your best friend,' he bid his friend goodbye and left the office.
Ron knew he would do nothing like what Harry had suggested; he had become an auror because he wanted to make a name for himself and do things without Harry but so far he hadn't been able to. He was a good detective but every time he cracked a case, Harry would end up getting the credit whether it was intentional or accidental, Ron couldn't tell anymore. And if he did get some press for it, colleagues would say it was because he was best friends with Harry and when he had recently got his promotion out of uniform and a 'detective' title, they all said it was because of Harry.
Ron needed to prove himself and fast.
Just as he stood up to leave, a black owl screeched in and perch itself on his desk, a blood-red letter in its claws. Urgent.
He quickly took the letter and tore it open and as soon as the letter left its claws, the owl soared off into the office's shadows.
The handwriting was messy but, due to his own, Ron understood perfectly.
Mr Weasley,
As you are the one in charge of the Dawson murder, I knew I must contact you.
I have valuable information about this and its connections to the Mythe family, evidence that is irrefutable. It is vitally important that we meet tonight as I need to tell you this in person; it is too dangerous to be written by owl. Meet me at 101 Farthing Lane, Bowden at midnight.
The letter did not say who had written it but Ron knew he had to go.
In his subconscious, Ron realised that if this person could not owl their information then why did they specify who it concerned? His conscious self, in its joy that it could prove its worth, did not criticise the letter at all.
He knew Farthing Lane contained disused muggle buildings and it was regularly used by the shady individuals of society for all sorts of acts. Thus if you wanted to have a secret meeting, it was the perfect place; nobody would ever concern themselves with your business as long as you didn't concern yourself with theirs.
Ron glanced at the station clock and saw it had just struck half eleven; he just had enough time to prepare.
Draco Malfoy ran the soft feathers of his quill back and forth over his chin in deep thought. This murder had him stuck. It seemed simple on the surface but it was a nightmare underneath.
McBee, a known petty thief and potions abuser, had been stabbed in a dodgy alleyway at two am just over two weeks ago. No one claimed to have seen anything but knowing the area, they could have been standing opposite it and claimed they knew nothing. Talking to aurors got you into more trouble than not talking did. At first, they had assumed it was potions related but someone had talked and it turned out that McBee had been clean for two months now thus the potions in his system must have been forced in. Someone had been trying to make it look like a potions related death but it was nothing of the sort. Then the Mythe family had risen into the mix and Draco knew then that the case would never be closed. The Mythe family were probably the biggest crime family at work in the organised wizard crime network and it was rumoured that they had even branched out into the muggle underworld but everything to do with them was hearsay and rumours – nothing could ever be proved and evidence wouldn't even show a slight connection. Yet it was well known that you did not cross them.
He finally looked up from his pad and out of the huge glass window to his left which looked out onto the main lobby of the auror headquarters.
He watched Harry Potter, head of the auror division, walk past his window and to the buildings doors; they caught eyes but neither acknowledged one another but refused to drop contact. Draco Malfoy may now be an auror, and an excellent one at that, but Harry still refused to accept him as good or trustworthy – Draco sometimes wondered how he had even got an interview. But since Potter was his boss, the last thing he wanted to do was piss him off.
When Harry left the building, Draco looked back down at his notepad full of key facts and pondered some more.
Unexpectedly, a graceful black owl swooped into the office through its open door and landed on a stack of paperwork beside him. His eyes quickly picked up the urgent red letter; he carefully took the note and read it, not noticing the owl's departure.
Mr Malfoy,
I know that you are the one in charge of the McBee murder and I know who did it. I was there in the alley that night and I know why they did it as well. If you meet me at 101 Farthing Lane, Bowden at midnight I'll tell you everything. Don't be late now.
The writing bothered Draco, he could have sworn he recognised it but in his line of duty you saw a lot of handwriting so he was probably just mistaken. The scrawl was hurried and simply sentenced but being in that alley at the time of the murder meant the person in the know was either a potions abuser or a prostitute. Probably both.
He didn't know this place the writer mentioned so with a flick of his wand a map appeared.
'101 Farthing Lane, Bowden,' he asked; the map glowed green and span twice, a set of empty buildings glowed orange and it plotted out a route from the auror office to his destination. "10 minute walk" appeared in the bottom left-hand corner, Draco flicked his wrist again and it folded itself back up neatly on his desk.
With a glance at his watch, he saw he had less than half an hour to get there.
He needed this break.
He needed to prove himself.