Harry also hated late night emergency calls. He stumbles in his office and finds his assistant, Levin and Ron, with their backs turned to him, their heads bowed down and whispering.
"It's two in the morning. This better be special," Harry grumbles. His tall, lithe, sandy-haired assistant Levin Dobrev, stares impassively at him, a cup of coffee in his hand. Harry takes it and blesses his erstwhile expressionless assistant.
Ron with his serious face on should have been indication enough but Harry's caffeine deprived brain was not in the processing or "Auror" mood. Ron says, "You are going to not like this."

Molly wonders why she does not really hate middle-of-the-night autopsies. She sent the dental samples of to the DNA lab sixty five minutes ago. She hums softly to herself. The poor corpse in front of her is of a woman. She is badly burned so dental samples were the only way of getting any idea about who she was. Molly says a silent prayer for her.
She is desensitised to bodies decomposing, but she cannot stand the charred smell of burnt human flesh. Or the sight of it and she has seen everything when it comes to death. She sadly wonders who she could have been and why did she have to die in such a horrible way?
The Jane Doe was shot first and then burned. Whoever burned her also managed to burn an entire floor of an empty apartment building. What was she doing there in the first place?
Before she could answer herself, the door opens behind her. She frowns. That is too quick for dental identification. So she turns around and surprise is her next emotion.
It is a very tired looking Mycroft Holmes, accompanied by a younger man with unruly dark hair and bright green eyes shielded by wire frame glasses. There is one thing common between them. Their solemn expressions.

Dewey Trevor was a little terrified first. After all he has been a huge fan of Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived…Twice. But then he squashed his awe when he realised he would have work to do.
"So how does thing work?" Harry asks while pointing his finger at the small device in Trevor's hand which looked like something a cross between a mobile phone and a GPS tracker.
"It picks up any kind of magical creature energy. I am, sir, a Muggleborn. I had been tweaking Muggle technology and magical mechanics for years. When I started working here, I heard how difficult it had become to successfully trace magical beasts. So I mashed an electronic trace, err, actually, it is ectoplasmic trace locater," Dewey stopped.
Levin said, "Yeah. Crazed Muggles use it to locate ghosts. Moving on…" Ron and Harry shoot glimpses at the otherwise stern former Ravenclaw Pureblood wizard.
"So, my device, instead of picking up ghosts, picks up magical energy. It took a few years but I managed to tweak it enough. And today, when that building at Chipping Barnet went up in flames, the Beast Finder pinged."
"This small thing?" Ron asks, incredulity still colouring his voice.
"Yes sir. It is actually connected to a larger device, but uh, yes. So it picked up magical activity in Barnet. It was an ashwinder. It is born of magical flames left neglected. I reckon it was a floo network. But by the time we got there, the police had already arrived. Apparently a body had been discovered in the apartment where the fire started. The firemen had doused the flames. But we needed to find the remaining eggs—"
"Eggs?" Ron asked.
"Ashwinder. Born out of neglected magical flames. It is harmless, except when it hatches eggs, which are highly inflammable. It is always imperative to destroy their eggs. Mr Trevor and team did not get there soon enough," Levin informs, much to his chagrin. Heroes of the Second Wizarding War and they do not know about ashwinders.
"But we managed to destroy the remaining eggs, after performing memory charms on everybody present," Dewey hopes they notice he followed protocol in spite of his tardiness, "Anyway, the problem arose when I heard the policemen talking before we sabotaged their memory. A policeman was talking to the landlord, asking about the apartment and such. The landlord said that the apartment was rented to a woman named Marianne Zabini." He ended with a loud whoosh of air.
Harry rubs the bridge of his nose. He mutters, "Marianne Zabini."
"You had put an alert on her," everybody stares at Dewey. How can a mid-level Department of Magical Creatures employee know about a secret collaboration between the British and French government? Dewey answers them, blushing, "My girlfriend works here."
Levin dismisses Dewey and says, "We looked her up. She is Blaise Zabini's neice."
"But the question is, who is the dead person?" Ron asks.
"Ron?" Harry springs to action, "Don't let anyone know this. Levin, make sure Mr Trevor and team don't let this news trickle out." He starts walking to the door.
Ron shouts, "Where are you going?"
"To the British government himself!" Harry answers.

"Dr Hooper, this is Harry Potter. And Mr Potter, this is Dr Molly Hooper, pathologist extraordinaire," Mycroft says.
Molly takes the hand the newcomer extends. A funny feeling rests in her stomach. If Mycroft Holmes has taken the pains to come here, that could only mean something serious. She airs her suspicion aloud, "Are you here, by any chance, about the burn victim from Barnet?"
Mycroft smiles, "See Mr Potter? What did I say? Brilliant indeed. Yes, Dr Hooper, I am here because of that."
"Oh," she murmurs. Slightly louder she says, "It has not been identified."
"I expect the results to arrive soon?" Mycroft asks, as genial as always.
Molly checks her watch, "A few more minutes."
So, Molly Hooper, Mycroft Holmes and Harry Potter spend twenty five minutes in complete silence, each stewing in their thoughts.
Harry Potter is grateful for Mycroft Holmes' efficiency. As soon as he had arrived at his residential and mentioned the name "Zabini", Mycroft had sprung to action. He had called a few people and got to know where the body went in less than an hour. Then they had headed straight here, at St Barts. His phone vibrates. It is Ginny. He sends her a short message.
Molly has her eyes on the computer. Her hands are logging in all the necessary information but her mind is far away. Why is Mycroft Holmes here? Who is that man? She had promised she would be home soon but who knows how long all this will take? She grabs her mobile phone and sends a message to Lestrade. He will worry when he wakes up and then not find her there beside him.
Mycroft Holmes picks at an imaginary speck of dirt under his nail. He is worried. He reminds himself to update his little brother soon. At the thought of his brother, another thought floats up. According to Anthea, Hermione had not visited Sherlock in a while. Her daughter would go upstairs occasionally, only to be disappointed at times when Sherlock would not be immersed in some new unhygienic experiment on his kitchen counter. He had not been around at St Barts either for four days. Strange indeed. He wonders what got his brother so distracted from stolen body parts. Apparently it was the relentless violin playing. He needs to pay a visit soon.
The door finally opens. The young woman is a little taken aback at the presence of two new people in the morgue at this hour, but reigns in her curiosity. She places the file in Molly's hand. She does not say anything, but remains in the room.
Molly says, "Thank you Pearl. Okay," she opens the file. When her eyes fall on the identity of her burnt cadaver, her heart skips a beat and dread settles.
"Yes, very surprising indeed." A familiar male voice speaks up. Molly stops breathing as Mycroft jumps up from his seat. Harry takes out his wand because the voice came from the woman apparently named Pearl.
When Molly realises that Pearl is talking in Moriarty's voice, she nearly faints. Pearl-but-not-her comes closer to Molly. "Hello Molly. Remember me?"
The door opens once again and this time a petite blonde woman enters. She points a stick at her and she faints. Mycroft rushes over as Harry prepares to attack. He hisses, "Marianne!"
"Precisement!" she chirps and stuns Harry as Moriarty stops Mycroft by one swift blow at his temple.
The skins starts to move. Brown hair shortens to a crop. Delicate forehead gives way to a large sloping forehead. Smooth skin gets covered in scruff. The light blue of the eyes changes to murky brown. The height shoots up a little. Suddenly, Marianne giggles.
Moriarty snaps, "What?"
"Your outfit!" she breaks into a prolonged fit of giggles. He looks down. A bark of laughter escapes from him too. The lilac sweater with the feline silhouette print and black skirt do look funny on him. She stops laughing and says, "What about that?" she points to the piece of paper with the lab results.
He grins, "Call Blaise. He will help you with Harry and Molly. Leave the paper and Mycroft here. Let him find it. Let him know what happens when he breaks the rules to the game."
He turns around, ready to leave when she asks, "Where are you going?"
He cocks his head to the side. He has his phone in his hands. He says, "Curiosity killed the repulsive cat…does that sound okay?"
She simply shrugs as he leaves the morgue and leaves her behind, slightly confused.