As soon as the harrowed cry stopped echoing around the dank castle walls, Harry and Ginny leapt out of bed and threw on their clothes, the castle stirring around them. The pair flew past curious heads sticking out of doors, down the stairs and towards a tell-tale crowd gathering outside a room. As Harry tried to worm his way to the crime scene, a strong hand gripped his shoulder and pulled him back. "I'm sorry sir but this area is now a crime scene. I'm afraid it is off limits to guests," spoke the hotel's manager, Virgil Serban, in a gentle, serpentine manner. As the vampire spoke, Harry glimpsed pearly fangs protracting menacingly from the man's blood-red gums.
"It's alright," Harry assured the man, showing him a badge. "I'm an Auror. I thought I could help you with this situation." Serban's thick eyebrows rose in comprehension and with a sudden swooshing motion, the vampire pulled Harry inside the room. Harry just managed to grab Ginny and bring her with him, when the door was slammed shut behind them. They were now inside the room containing the dead man and, sure enough, there on the bed was a lifeless staring corpse, laying in pyjamas as if ready for bed. "Who's this?" Serban asked, eyes darting suspiciously towards Ginny.
"This is my girlfriend."
"Mr Potter, a crime scene is not suitable for a date," the vampire admonished.
"Ginny is here because she can help me, okay." Sombrely, Harry approached the body and realised it was the old man who they had bumped into last night. Gerry, the man after treasure. Had that been a factor in his death? Well, he was old, it was more than likely Gerry died of natural causes.
"I'm glad you are here," admitted Serban, his voice heavily accented, his inky brows furrowed with sorrow. "With the storm and the broken bridge, it would be all but impossible to bring in the proper authorities and I have no idea how to handle a death-"
"A murder to be specific," Harry added, as he examined the room, which was smaller and even darker than his and Ginny's. Virgil Serban became pale, even for a vampire, at this suggestion, his eyes once again bulging, this time in dawning horror that there was a murderer in his hotel.
"Are you- are you sure?" He questioned, eyes pleading for Harry to be lying or joking.
"Almost certain," came the matter-of-fact reply from one of the man's cupboards. "Call it a hunch, but there are certain clues in this room that point to a certain ambiguity in the death. For instance, Gerry...uh..."
"Simpson."
"Simpson. Gerry Simpson wore a hat, one that, judging by the holes, was quite old and therefore valuable to him."
"No one would wear a moldy old hat like that unless it was important to them," Ginny supplied, as she watched her Auror boyfriend at work.
"Exactly," Harry continued. "But it is nowhere to be seen. Perhaps it was dropped wherever Mr Simpson was when he was attacked. A tenuous suggestion, I know. But there is also the fact that his pyjama bottoms are on back to front, like someone hurriedly put them on him. Add to this the peculiar moss on the bottom of his shoe, makes you wonder where he was...he surely couldn't have been outside..." Harry's mind wandered off as it often did during these investigations.
Looking like a stick insect being harshly squeezed, Serban spoke again, "it really doesn't seem enough to me to be murder, but I cannot take the chance if the safety of my guests is at stake. Please Mr Potter, sort this out quickly."
"I'll do my best Mr Serban. I'll need to conduct interviews of people to find the culprit and bring them to justice."
"Of course, of course." Serban was bowing out of the room.
"Oh, and what room number is this?" Harry called, as Serban all but disappeared. "22b," came the reply, from out in the corridor.
"22b?" repeated Ginny, biting her lower lip. "Wasn't that meant to be our room?"
"Come in," barked Harry, his feet parked on the pristine, dark oak desk of Virgil Serban. Nearby, Ginny was lounging on a sofa, watching the proceedings. The first of Harry's suspects entered: Matilda the "Seer." She peered around the door nervously, her bulbous head quivering.
"What is the meaning of this?" She stuttered in her strong accent, betraying her attempts at indignance. She was one of the few people who couldn't be accounted for at the time of Gerry Simpson's death. Almost everyone had been at the midnight bingo, which was surprisingly popular. She perched herself on a seat across from Harry's desk, her head swivelling between Harry and Ginny.
"Madame Matilda, you were one of the few people who was not at the midnight bingo, I still can't believe people actually turned up for that, and so you are a suspect in the murder of Gerry Simpson." Matilda tried to splutter a response but Harry held a hand up to stop her. "Look, just tell us what you were doing at that time." Matilda seethed behind large glasses, like a rattlesnake.
"I am a Seer! I do not need to pander to one without the Sight!" She gloated, bony chin held high.
"Ok, I'll put you down as being in a mysterious location." Harry made to write in his notebook. "That won't be suspicious at all-"
"Alright," Matilda hissed, staring daggers at Harry. "I shall tell you. I was in my bed, asleep. Having the Sight is quite tiring in reality."
"Excellent," Harry replied, scribbling down some notes. "You were often proclaiming about disaster and death in the hotel. If your proclamations were true then you could stand to make quite a bit of money off it, right?"
"No, I had no money in this."
"No, but being proved correct could mean that you get more business. And there's also the show that you've been advertising."
"Well, I suppose. But I wouldn't kill a man for money! We Seers are above that!" Harry dipped his head a little and smiled gently.
"I believe you," he said.
"You do? Well, it's about time!"
"Before I let you go though, did you witness anything strange last night?" The woman thought for a moment, half out the door already.
"Apart from the manager's wife coming in and tidying up the rooms as she does every few days, I can't think of anything."
"Thank you, Matilda," Harry said as Matilda slipped through the door. "Where was her room again?" Ginny questioned.
"Uh, on the bottom floor I think-"There was movement outside the door. "Ah, I think our next suspect has arrived."
"Baxter, where were you last night?" Harry probed, his eyes narrowed.
"Like I told you, I was in my bed, trying to sleep." Harry crossed his arms and rolled his eyes in a very professional manner.
"Oh, and I expect having the Sight tires you out too. During the war, back in Britain, what was your position?"
"Harry!" Ginny admonished, but Harry stared at Baxter. He looked crestfallen and his broad shoulders seemed to shrink inwards.
"I...kept my head low and minded my own business to be honest."
"You didn't have anything against me...or Ginny?"
Baxter looked shocked. "No, I didn't . In fact I admired you guys. I just wished I'd done more during the war." He appeared to look into the distance. Harry was deep in thought.
"Marcus, I think you can go," Ginny said softly and the man slouched out of the room.
Interviewing the remaining suspects went relatively smoothly but Harry felt they were no closer to discovering who the killer was. Several people had motive and opportunity which meant he could not pick one over the other. They had even interviewed Serban's wife, who had claimed she only went out for ten minutes to catch up on some cleaning. "Maybe we should check Gerry's room again," suggested Ginny, as Harry paced around the room.
"Good idea," Harry replied. "Maybe we missed something."
"It's getting late now," Ginny said, glancing at the clock. "Maybe we check the room and then head to bed."
"Sounds like a plan." The couple headed down to the victim's room, as the flickering candles cast trembling shadows on the stony walls. At this time of night, the castle was deathly silent; even the rain had let up. The result was a tense and uneasy atmosphere where even the slightest noise seemed dangerous. Ginny had an eerie feeling that they were being watched, as the slight hairs on the back of her neck rose.
Finally, they reached the foreboding door of Simpson's room, and eased it open. They slipped into the darkened room and with a flick of her wand, Ginny lit the candles. The room began to glow, outlining the sheet-covered corpse of Gerry Simpson. Together, Harry and Ginny began to search for any clues they might have missed.
Harry began rifling through his drawers, leafing through paper, but it was all blank. He checked his clothes drawer, even his socks, but then stopped when he noticed something. He pulled out one sock and noticed it was filled with a flat rectangular object. He slid his hand in and pulled out an envelope.
"Harry!" Ginny exclaimed before Harry could read it. "I think I've found something."
"So have I," added Harry as he rushed to her side.
"Look," she said, and pressed a stone that seemed to protrude from the wall. They heard a faint sliding noise, then a door opened up in the wall. For a moment, they stared in surprise and the tight, dark walkway. They couldn't see more than a few feet down the secret passageway. "Looks safe," Ginny commented drily. "What did you find?"
"An envelope. You light the way and I'll read this while we walk."
"Scared?" teased Ginny and she light her wand and entered the passageway. As he held out his hands to balance himself in the narrow walls, Harry's hand slid against some damp moss and the gurgling of drains could be heard all around them.
He tore open the envelope and pulled out a letter. He read it out loud as they walked along. "Dear associates. I believe I have located it. I have called upon my own friend to assist me. He will arrive soon. I will message you when we have removed it. GS."
They soon reached a dead end, but after some fumbling around Ginny managed to find another stone. The door creaked open to reveal a familiar corridor. "Look, here's another one," pointed out Ginny, gesturing to a similar protruding stone.
"This must be how the murderer gets around," concluded Harry. Just then, a movement down the corridor caught the corner of his eye. He glanced around to see a dark figure, suspiciously exiting a room, glancing around. They looked eyes and Harry knew this was the murderer. They figure turned on their heels and fled down the corridor. "Ginny, check in that room!" Harry ordered as he ran off in pursuit of the figure.
Ginny wrenched open the door, both afraid of what she might see but desperate that she be quick so she could join Harry in his chase. The room was dark as again Ginny waved her wand to light the candles. As they flickered into life, they illuminated a body, an old man on the bed, facing away from Ginny. She stalked towards it, and with a shaking hand reached out to feel the pulse on his neck. She placed her hand on the point and almost expected the man to reach around and grab her but there was no response from him...or his heart. The murderer had struck again.
Harry chased the figure down, determined to bring them to justice, but the suspect was quicker than he was and seemed to know the castle well. They were losing him and there was nothing he could do. His heart pounded in his chest and his lungs worked overtime to get him more air but after he hadn't seen them in a while, he had to admit he had lost them. "Robards will have me running laps if he hears of this," Harry panted to himself, leaning against a wall and doubling over.
Quickly, Ginny caught up with him, breathing heavily and looking pale. "Old...man...dead," she gasped, bending over and shaking her head. Harry swore and punched the wall.
"Hold on..." Harry curiously peeked around a potted plant, sure he had just heard a noise emanating from there. And sure enough, someone was crouched behind it. "Baxter..."