The Knife in the Dark: Chapter 1
Hercule Poirot was reclining in his favourite armchair when he heard a soft tapping coming from the window. When he opened it, a nondescript brown owl fluttered through and landed on the table. It dropped a letter into Poirot's outstretched hand and hooted softly.
The detective returned to his armchair and broke the seal on the heavy parchment envelope. Nowadays, he hardly ever received sealed letters since most his clients preferred to telegraph their requests for assistance to him.
The letter was short and to the point:
My dear Monsieur Poirot,
We have had a most disturbing incident at Hogwarts. One of our teachers, Severus Snape, was killed last night, stabbed in the back.
I would be very glad if you would consent t clear this matter up for us. I have little faith in the authorities, as they would likely search only for ways to implicate me in this matter. They have tried to destabilize my position for a long time.
I hope we will welcome you at Hogwarts soon.
Yours sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster
Poirot leaned back in his armchair and thought the matter over. It was likely a very simple problem, but it must have some interesting features if Dumbledore felt he was unequal to the task of finding the murderer himself. He decided he apparate to Hogsmeade and walk up to the school the next morning.
Poirot was met in the Entrance Hall by Professor McGonagall and escorted to the headmaster's office. Dumbledore sat behind a big oak desk.
"Would you like a butterbeer, or perhaps a little firewhiskey? The journey can be very cold this time of the year", Dumbledore offered, opening a drawer in the cabinet on the wall behind him.
Poirot accepted a butterbeer and started sipping it slowly while Dumbledore laid out the facts of the case before him.
"We haven't had much crime within the walls of Hogwarts for the last few years, so this was a surprise for us", he began.
"It was young Mr. Malfoy of Slytherin House who found him this morning on his way to breakfast. You see, Professor Snape was teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year instead of Potions, but he kept his old office in the dungeons."
"When Mr. Malfoy found him, he was alone, lying in the corridor with a knife in his back. The door to his office was wide open and Professor Snape lay across the threshold. Mr. Malfoy went to the Hospital Wing to fetch Madam Pomfrey, our nurse. She put the time of death between 10pm and midnight, when everyone was supposed to be in bed."
"We left the body as it was and the corridor was closed. We put a stasis spell on the body so you can examine it in the state Madam Pomfrey found it in."
Monsieur Poirot was very grateful for Dumbledore's foresight in preserving the body as it had been found. Many of his cases would have been easier if he had had a chance to examine the body before it was removed from the crime scene. But Dumbledore was not yet finished with his account.
"The knife in his back we left as well", Dumbledore continued, "so it was hard to identify it, but we think it must be one of the knives Professor Snape used in his potions work. Though he is now employed in a different position, he has continued with his potions research."
"The students have not yet been told of this incident, they have merely been told that their Defense classes are cancelled for the time being. I daresay", he added with a wry smile, "that some of them are very happy about it. Professor Snape was not a well-liked teacher. Very strict, you see, especially towards members of houses other than Slytherin."
Dumbledore stood up and gestured towards the door.
"We have prepared one of the offices on the first floor for your use, but I expect you will want to see the body first?" he asked.
Poirot nodded affirmatively. "You have not mentioned magic?" he asked.
"No, that is the queer thing." Dumbledore sighed. "No magic was used at all. If it had been magic, we might easily have traced the spell-caster ourselves. But considering the circumstances, we thought it more prudent to call in an expert on muggle murders than to make a muck of it ourselves", he chuckled.
