Disclaimer: Most characters, ideas, worlds, and places are copyright J.K.
Rowling. Original plot, characters, and places are mine. If I have
inflicted upon any copyrights, please notify me. Thank you.
Chapter 5: One Step Closer
A week later, I was beginning to think everything was back to normal, or as normal as it could have been. The dreams had stopped, or at least paused. When people asked how I got my scar, I told them my cat, Jitter, had scratched me, and all was well, for them. Hermione didn't quite believe me, mainly because she knew Jitter, and knew he was a very gentle, loving cat that wouldn't scratch a rat. I was afraid she was catching on, but she never gave it another word, so I dismissed the idea.
Never having the nerve to talk to Kate again, I got all my orders from Hermione, who told me to keep working on the Mitchell case.
"What for?" I asked. "The case is over, I blew it…"
"You never know, there might have been more to the story. Muggles don't usually just kill someone, it seems a bit suspicious to me," she replied.
I shrugged her words off, thinking she was probably just giving me a break. With nothing to do that night, I picked up the files and began to look through them. Absolutely nothing in them was helpful or even made sense, so I decided to do a little investigation on myself. My job was already on the verge of failure, so there wasn't much more I could so to get Kate to fire me.
I walked around the neighborhood the next morning, questioning neighbors of Rob about his behavior, his lifestyle. Many of them said they didn't know him, or they had met him and saw him little after that. I concluded he just wanted a private life, like every other wizard living in the muggle world. Then, I began to think of his wife, and his next-door neighbor. What happened there? I decided to investigate that, by going to his ex-wife.
The house was still, and quiet. There were no lights on, and I was afraid that no one was home. It seemed like a weird house. There was a picket fence, broken in a million places, that wasn't even worth the trouble of having it up. I noticed several tries to fix it, but none at worked. The steps up to the front door were sunk deep into the mud. There were weeds sprouting up between them, and around them, but the rest of the yard seemed to be patches of wet and dry dirt. I walked up to the railing around the porch, and dropping my book bag over it, I swung myself up, and over. The front door was rusted and the paint was scratched off. I was afraid of what kind of person lived there, but I had my wand in my bag so I wasn't to worry.
I tried the doorbell several times, but after no answer, and no sound, I assumed it was broken and tried the doorknocker. I banged as hard as I could, and just before I was about to grab my bag and climb back over, the door opened a bit, and a small head popped out. She was beautiful, much prettier than I, with golden hair that reached her waist. She had large brown eyes, with elegant eyelashes hanging over them. She had a shy, and fearful look on. I followed her gaze to my badge and smiled.
"Don't worry, you're not in trouble. Name's Parvati Potter, I would just like to ask you a few questions about the recent death of Mr. Rob Mitchell," I said, with a half smile on my face. She nodded, and opened the door for me to step inside.
The inside was much better than the outside. It was furnished perfectly, and the walls were painted with beautiful murals. Roman arches and pillars made the ideal tribute to the homey feeling. I scratched my head. Why had the outside looked like a dump, and the inside this wonderful?
"Would you like some tea?" she asked uneasy but politely.
"Oh, no thanks," I said "I just wanted to ask you a few questions and be on my way."
She spotted my eyes looking around the house, and she motioned to a few leather seats. I took a seat and pulled out my notebook and pen.
"Now, you were his ex-wife, I believe?"
"Yes…" she said, nodding. "It was a shame what happened to him…"
I scribbled some notes down about the surroundings. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her giving me a weird look, almost like an understanding.
"I heard you're husband has passed away too…" she said, sipping some tea.
"Yes," I said thinking. "How did you know that?"
"Oh, um, news?" she said, her face was uneasy. Feeling like she new a lot more than me, I moved on.
"Why did you divorce Mr. Mitchell?" I asked, waiting for the answer.
"Well…" she started. "I really promised myself I wouldn't tell any one… but…"
For a moment, I thought she was going to speak, but the words failed to leave her mind.
"… I suspected him of witchcraft and I'm against it," she spilled. I knew that wasn't the real truth, and I suspected it to be something of the affair, but she spoke nothing of it until I was the one to bring it up.
"Did he ever have a personal relationship with your neighbor?" I asked, eyeing her.
"Yes, that too," she said, stuttering, "but I hadn't figured that out until after the divorce…"
Realizing that all she would give me were lies, I thanked her and headed out the door. She didn't even bother to show me out, but just sat there staring into space. I walked out towards the porch, swinging my bag over my shoulder. I heard something hit the floor, and turned around to pick it up. It was a notepad I had knocked down when I passed the small table in the entrance hallway. I grabbed it, and pushed it on the table and walked on.
"Wait a second…" I whispered. I rushed back to the notepad and opened my eyes wide at what I saw. "Draco Malfoy, 890-579-89."
I left the notepad there, but in my mind, I took the information. I glanced over my shoulder to see if she was coming, but no one was there. Feeling lucky, and like I had just reached a huge break, I rushed out of the house. Once on the porch I felt a lot safer than inside. I still questioned the appearance of her house, but decided she was just took lazy to fix what she never saw, and only what was open to her eyes.
The streets were silent, and twilight had just begun. I took a taxi into town, and walked back to my apartment.
I threw my bag to the ground and opened up a can of beer. After taking a few sips, I grabbed the phone and punched in a number.
"Hello?" I head across the other line.
"Kate, this is Parvati. I think I found something in my case."
"You found something?" Kate asked. "What left is there to find? I advise you to drop the case before more people get killed, Ms. Potter. Now, please don't waste my time. I have important cases to work on, unlike some people I employ."
"Thanks Kate, after I get you that job too," I replied, returning to snottiness.
The phone line was disconnected, so I decided to call the one who one who would understand me, Hermione. After trying three times, I concluded that she wasn't home and gave up. It was right about now when I needed a friend to back me up on my findings, but unfortunately, there was none. That night, I fell asleep feeling peaceful, but soon the peace gave away.
The sky was dark. I assumed it was night, or close to night, or even early daybreak. I looked around but no one was there. There were trees all around me. It looked like a large forest, and a small open field in which I was in. This time there were no dark figures, so I figured it was a relatively safe dream. But I soon found out I was wrong. The trees were closing in on me, like a box that was shrinking and I was the trapped animal inside it. I held up my hands as their trunks pushed on my helpless body. The scrapes kept appearing on my arms, and there was no wind. The forest was calm, windless, and dark. Afraid, I rolled myself into a ball and lay in the center as the sharp wood stabbed me painfully.
Chapter 5: One Step Closer
A week later, I was beginning to think everything was back to normal, or as normal as it could have been. The dreams had stopped, or at least paused. When people asked how I got my scar, I told them my cat, Jitter, had scratched me, and all was well, for them. Hermione didn't quite believe me, mainly because she knew Jitter, and knew he was a very gentle, loving cat that wouldn't scratch a rat. I was afraid she was catching on, but she never gave it another word, so I dismissed the idea.
Never having the nerve to talk to Kate again, I got all my orders from Hermione, who told me to keep working on the Mitchell case.
"What for?" I asked. "The case is over, I blew it…"
"You never know, there might have been more to the story. Muggles don't usually just kill someone, it seems a bit suspicious to me," she replied.
I shrugged her words off, thinking she was probably just giving me a break. With nothing to do that night, I picked up the files and began to look through them. Absolutely nothing in them was helpful or even made sense, so I decided to do a little investigation on myself. My job was already on the verge of failure, so there wasn't much more I could so to get Kate to fire me.
I walked around the neighborhood the next morning, questioning neighbors of Rob about his behavior, his lifestyle. Many of them said they didn't know him, or they had met him and saw him little after that. I concluded he just wanted a private life, like every other wizard living in the muggle world. Then, I began to think of his wife, and his next-door neighbor. What happened there? I decided to investigate that, by going to his ex-wife.
The house was still, and quiet. There were no lights on, and I was afraid that no one was home. It seemed like a weird house. There was a picket fence, broken in a million places, that wasn't even worth the trouble of having it up. I noticed several tries to fix it, but none at worked. The steps up to the front door were sunk deep into the mud. There were weeds sprouting up between them, and around them, but the rest of the yard seemed to be patches of wet and dry dirt. I walked up to the railing around the porch, and dropping my book bag over it, I swung myself up, and over. The front door was rusted and the paint was scratched off. I was afraid of what kind of person lived there, but I had my wand in my bag so I wasn't to worry.
I tried the doorbell several times, but after no answer, and no sound, I assumed it was broken and tried the doorknocker. I banged as hard as I could, and just before I was about to grab my bag and climb back over, the door opened a bit, and a small head popped out. She was beautiful, much prettier than I, with golden hair that reached her waist. She had large brown eyes, with elegant eyelashes hanging over them. She had a shy, and fearful look on. I followed her gaze to my badge and smiled.
"Don't worry, you're not in trouble. Name's Parvati Potter, I would just like to ask you a few questions about the recent death of Mr. Rob Mitchell," I said, with a half smile on my face. She nodded, and opened the door for me to step inside.
The inside was much better than the outside. It was furnished perfectly, and the walls were painted with beautiful murals. Roman arches and pillars made the ideal tribute to the homey feeling. I scratched my head. Why had the outside looked like a dump, and the inside this wonderful?
"Would you like some tea?" she asked uneasy but politely.
"Oh, no thanks," I said "I just wanted to ask you a few questions and be on my way."
She spotted my eyes looking around the house, and she motioned to a few leather seats. I took a seat and pulled out my notebook and pen.
"Now, you were his ex-wife, I believe?"
"Yes…" she said, nodding. "It was a shame what happened to him…"
I scribbled some notes down about the surroundings. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her giving me a weird look, almost like an understanding.
"I heard you're husband has passed away too…" she said, sipping some tea.
"Yes," I said thinking. "How did you know that?"
"Oh, um, news?" she said, her face was uneasy. Feeling like she new a lot more than me, I moved on.
"Why did you divorce Mr. Mitchell?" I asked, waiting for the answer.
"Well…" she started. "I really promised myself I wouldn't tell any one… but…"
For a moment, I thought she was going to speak, but the words failed to leave her mind.
"… I suspected him of witchcraft and I'm against it," she spilled. I knew that wasn't the real truth, and I suspected it to be something of the affair, but she spoke nothing of it until I was the one to bring it up.
"Did he ever have a personal relationship with your neighbor?" I asked, eyeing her.
"Yes, that too," she said, stuttering, "but I hadn't figured that out until after the divorce…"
Realizing that all she would give me were lies, I thanked her and headed out the door. She didn't even bother to show me out, but just sat there staring into space. I walked out towards the porch, swinging my bag over my shoulder. I heard something hit the floor, and turned around to pick it up. It was a notepad I had knocked down when I passed the small table in the entrance hallway. I grabbed it, and pushed it on the table and walked on.
"Wait a second…" I whispered. I rushed back to the notepad and opened my eyes wide at what I saw. "Draco Malfoy, 890-579-89."
I left the notepad there, but in my mind, I took the information. I glanced over my shoulder to see if she was coming, but no one was there. Feeling lucky, and like I had just reached a huge break, I rushed out of the house. Once on the porch I felt a lot safer than inside. I still questioned the appearance of her house, but decided she was just took lazy to fix what she never saw, and only what was open to her eyes.
The streets were silent, and twilight had just begun. I took a taxi into town, and walked back to my apartment.
I threw my bag to the ground and opened up a can of beer. After taking a few sips, I grabbed the phone and punched in a number.
"Hello?" I head across the other line.
"Kate, this is Parvati. I think I found something in my case."
"You found something?" Kate asked. "What left is there to find? I advise you to drop the case before more people get killed, Ms. Potter. Now, please don't waste my time. I have important cases to work on, unlike some people I employ."
"Thanks Kate, after I get you that job too," I replied, returning to snottiness.
The phone line was disconnected, so I decided to call the one who one who would understand me, Hermione. After trying three times, I concluded that she wasn't home and gave up. It was right about now when I needed a friend to back me up on my findings, but unfortunately, there was none. That night, I fell asleep feeling peaceful, but soon the peace gave away.
The sky was dark. I assumed it was night, or close to night, or even early daybreak. I looked around but no one was there. There were trees all around me. It looked like a large forest, and a small open field in which I was in. This time there were no dark figures, so I figured it was a relatively safe dream. But I soon found out I was wrong. The trees were closing in on me, like a box that was shrinking and I was the trapped animal inside it. I held up my hands as their trunks pushed on my helpless body. The scrapes kept appearing on my arms, and there was no wind. The forest was calm, windless, and dark. Afraid, I rolled myself into a ball and lay in the center as the sharp wood stabbed me painfully.