Disclaimer ~ All the HP characters belong to Jk Rowling and Warner Bros., the plot and Michael Abberline belong to moi.

Author's Note ~ Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry this chapter took soooo long to get up. I was investing my creative energy into several other projects (and my schoolwork). Nevertheless, here it is and I hope you enjoy reading it... However, beware... it changes POV's often. Myth, I took your advice and made the murder scene more... colorful. Hope you like it!



THE NIGHTINGALE MURDERS

Chapter 3- And the plot thickens...

By: Nekura Megami the Dark Goddess


Dean Thomas drove is flashy, red, Monte Carlo down the narrow side street, his tires sending loose asphalt flying in every direction. Murdered... the word filled his mind, overwhelmed his senses. How was he going to tell Harry and Ron? He could almost picture the looks of painful disbelief on their faces. This... he told himself, was going to be hard.

* * * *

He sat at the table, concentrating on the parchment before him.

Hermione Granger- deceased
Lavender Brown-

His crazed laughter reverberated off the walls, filling the small room with the disturbing sound.
'Well," he said to himself "Better get ready, I've got a busy night ahead of me..." He reached for his dagger and whet-stone (1), and began to sharpen it...

* * * *

Harry Potter rummaged through the closet. He found what he was looking for and started to sit up before, CRACK! His head encountered the bottom of a nearby shelf.
"S--T!" he dropped the item and grabbed the back of his head. "Ouch..." He glared evilly at the source of his pain, then kicked it.
"OUCH!" he added a new discomfort to his growing list. The ache in his toe took the reigning place over the one in his head. He grabbed what he had been searching for and exited the torture chamber that was his closet. He sat in a cozy, chair that bordered his bed. He reached down and rubbed hi throbbing toe.
"Oww..." he whined pitifully "Stupid bloody shelf. Should be in Malfoy's closet, not mine."
Then... his doorbell rang. He got up and limped down the hall, muttering obscenities the whole way.
He flung open the door, ready to go on a rampage against whoever it was. That was until he saw Dean, looking scared, regretful and as pale as his dark skin would let him.
"Dean! What are you doing 'ere? What's 'appened? Come in, come in and sit down."
Dean walked in, his feet shuffling the whole way. Harry shut the door and turned to face him.
"Are you alright? You look a little pale..."
"Yeah, I'm okay. But... I'm afraid I 'ave some rather... shocking, news." He twisted his hands around nervously, his palms sweating.
Harry's eyebrows shot up, his eyes widening. "What's happened? Is it Ron? Seamus?" his voice grew hopeful "Malfoy?"
Dean's head shook "N... n... no. It's Hermione... she's been... murdered."
The word hung in the air then dropped with a cold finality. Harry gasped and grew pale.
"You're kidding. Please say your kidding. This isn't funny Dean! IT ISN'T FUNNY!"
"I'm sorry... I know how much she meant to you..." Dean hung his head and started to leave, then turned and whispered "I'm sorry..."

* * * *

Dean went through the same horrifying ordeal when he met up with Ron and Ginny. When he left, they were both dissolved in tears.

The things a police officer had to do...

* * * *

The prey sat at the bar, blissfully unaware that the predator lurked in the shadows behind her. His dagger rode easily at his hip, concealed by his white shirt. His blonde hair spiked and his big, blue eyes flashing. She would never recognize him, he thought gleefully.
He took a seat next to her, drinking in the fragrance of her hair, the sweet aroma of her smooth skin. He wanted her so much... but she had not wanted him. She had sent him on his way because she thought it would hurt her reputation if she was seen with him. She had never said it aloud but... he had seen the disdain in her eyes.
She turned towards him and looked him from head to toe. He guessed she had found him to her liking because she stared straight at him, her gorgeous violet eyes turning a sexy, misty-blue. She began to talk to him.
"Well... hello there." She said, a sultry smile spreading across her face "Who might you be?"
He smiled back at her; this was exactly the way he knew she would always turn out, a worthless whore. He tried to hide the disdain in his voice. "The name's Devin, Devin Burke."
"I'm Lavender. Wanna get outta here?" she licked her lips. she thought, practically sweating.
He leaned forward, joy filling his mind. This was exactly the opening he had been hoping for. "Sure."
She grinned "Good... let's go."

* * * *

He led her out into the dusky alley behind the bar. She pulled him with along beside her, up against a damp wall; She yanked his face down to her's and kissed him hard on the mouth. She was drunk; he could smell it on her breath.
He slowly, unobtrusively, slid a long, sharp knife from the back waistband of his pants. The last thing he needed was her figuring out what was happening. However... she was otherwise occupied. Perfect, absolutely perfect.
As suddenly as he had become charming and nice, he turned malicious and sadistic. He plunged the wicked-looking knife into her stomach, warm blood spilled out over his hand. Lavender's eyes widened, a gasping breath escaped her rapidly paling lips.
"This is what you get. This is my revenge. You rejected me, humiliated me. Just like your little friend Hermione. That was a mistake, a dire mistake."
"You..." she managed to gasp.
"Yes... me." He dug the knife deeper into her stomach and watched as the blood left her body.
He laid her lifeless form on the garbage-strewn ground and stroked her golden hair. "I'm sorry... I had to, It was your own fault."
He turned slowly and walked away.

* * * *

The sirens rumbled along the streets. Children stopped playing, mothers stopped hanging their laundry and fathers stopped reading the paper. All watched silently.

They knew what had happened, 'twas like reliving history...


* * * *

"Who was it this time?" Michael asked the police inspectors.
"We found her wallet and driver's license. Her name was Lavender Brown, age 21." One answered cautiously.
Dean, who was standing behind Michael, gasped. Chief Abberline turned and looked at him.
"What? Knew her too, did you?" he asked curiously.
"Yes sir. I did. Went to school with her as well." He said quietly.
Michael's eyes widened, "Sorry Thomas." He paused before continuing, "Can you think of anyone who might have held a grudge against them?"
Of course, Dean did. But he couldn't go and start blurting out the name of people in the wizarding world could he?
"Uh... no sir. I can't." he said finally.
"Well, if you do think of someone or of another woman who could be connected then please, don't hesitate to contact me." He pulled a card out of his pocket. "The first number's me at home and the second's my desk at work, in case you're out when I'm at the office."

* * * *

Author's Note- Well, hope you liked this chapter. I worked hard on it. Took me a while to get back in the mood to write this. Flames welcome, they are probably well deserved. Also, to all Lavender fans, her death is part of a larger picture. Please, be open-minded.