C.S.I: Privet Drive: Chapter Two
A.N.: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise. Also, this story contains murder and suicide- if that's triggering for you, it would be best to leave this story alone.
Last chapter:
"Boy-Who-Lived Dies at Muggle Residence?!"
Severus knew there was a reason he hated Saturdays and beetles.
– – –
Nobody was at Spinner's End, where Severus chose to spend his summers, when he started shouting every rude word he could think of at the news of the blasted boy he had been forced to protect dying. Once he had finished that, though, he knew that he would have to floo call Albus, if only to make sure the idiot hadn't decided he was at fault for the death of the brat or other such rot.
However, he was interrupted from his vaguely murderous thoughts by an all too familiar voice shouting, "Severus, my boy! There has been a terrible occurrence, you must come to Hogwarts." At that moment, Severus would have gladly wrung the stupid headmaster's neck and damned the consequences. But alas, he had to listen to his employer and visit him. Stupid manipulative headmasters with the ability to stuff people into Azkaban at will…
"I'll floo over now, Albus" Severus practically spat the words at his fireplace, where a colorful hat and white beard could be seen. True to his word, he stormed into the fireplace, barely pausing to announce, "Hogwarts, headmaster's office!" and let Albus move out of the way.
"Ah, Severus. You've seen the Prophet, I take it?" Albus, the blasted man, finally stopped twinkling his eyes for a moment as the reality of the situation sunk in once more.
"No, I've been asleep the past 13 hours and have set every bird I've seen since June on fire. Obviously, I've seen the Prophet, you barmy fool!" Severus spat at Albus. Albus, for his part, did nothing but pet his beard and look sad- or constipated- as Severus glared at him.
"Then you know that poor Harry has died. I fear that this could be far more grave than we first assumed, what with all of the death eaters that evaded capture after Tom's defeat. Harry dying is a tragedy all on its own, but if a death eater was the one to do the deed, you know what could happen." Albus remained calm if a bit melancholy in appearance as he made rather uncomfortable eye contact with Severus. Severus knew better than to try to see into his head, but he would much prefer to know what Albus was trying to do rather than play word games.
"Of course I recognize what might happen were the death eaters to reorganize themselves. But you must realize that those idiots have been in hiding for more than a year, and if they haven't tried to kill that blasted boy yet, they have no reason to do so now. Do stop dancing around what you're saying, Albus, some of us actually have things to do!" Severus had started talking in a relatively calm manner, but by the end, he was looming over the headmaster's desk and a second away from spitting into Albus's tea.
"Ah, I apologize Severus. To say it plainly, the aurors are keeping everything hush-hush, not even allowing me to see the body. Really, they should know I wouldn't tamper with anything! But, alas, nobody outside of the auror department knows what's happened other than that Harry died at his muggle relatives' home. I know that it's unlikely that death eaters were involved, but without the information on Harry's demise I cannot help but worry." Albus was still dancing around the subject.
"Albus, if you do not tell me what you're going on about within two minutes, I cannot be held accountable for my actions…!" Severus had probably spat into the headmaster's tea, what with how uninterested in tea Albus suddenly became. Oh well, the old man had had it coming.
"I want you to find out what happened to Harry Potter, Severus."
Severus was three- no, two- seconds away from screaming and Avada Kedavra-ing the headmaster. Thankfully, he settled his temper enough to glower and say, "No."
"My boy, you're the most likely to solve this terrible mystery! You were a spy for years, you have connections to the death eaters that nobody else I trust does, and, frankly, you may just be the only one I employ who won't gossip about it like a schoolgirl. Please, Severus, find Harry's murderer."
Severus was seething. Absolutely, positively, seething. But he wasn't a Slytherin for nothing, and Albus should really learn that, so when Severus asked, "And what's in it for me?" between clenched teeth nobody should have been surprised. But Albus, that blasted old man actually looked hurt. The sheer audacity of that wretched old fool-
"In return for your work in solving this mystery, I will pay for all of the potion ingredients required in your personal brewing this year. Is there something else you would prefer, Severus?"
"That is… agreeable," Severus said rather calmly, finally sitting back down in front of the headmaster as he continued, "but I expect time to solve your accursed mystery. There's barely a month until classes resume, and there's not nearly enough information to find the culprit in such a short period of time, so if you truly wish me to be thorough in my investigation, I will not have time for brewing everything for the infirmary."
"Of course, my boy. You have my thanks for this. Now, how have your holidays been?"
And with that, Severus allowed Albus to spend two more hours of his time on trivial nonsense. If the decrepit old man had the gall to look so hurt when Severus demanded payment, he really had no option other than to try to soothe his ruffled feathers. Severus absolutely did not consider that twinkly little bitch a friend. Absolutely not.
– – –
Severus was a lot of things, but idiotic wasn't one of them. Once he had a moment of free time in his very busy schedule, he started poking into the surface level of the pint-sized wretch's murder. He couldn't be seen digging too deeply by the public, so he spent about a week visiting Lucius more often than usual under the guise of visiting his godson, while he casually talked about the murder of Britain's supposed 'Savior'. Through this, he learned that because of the boy's celebrity status a permit was required to so much as think about seeing the corpse, and an actual in-person look into the auror department's suspiciously slow-going investigation wasn't being granted to anyone. Hell, he had even heard that all aurors who knew even a single detail about the entire thing were being forced to take vows of secrecy. Apparently, the one fool who had tried to bribe their way in had been thrown into the Department of Mysteries as a test subject, but Severus was a bit doubtful of that.
Following that week of ever so slightly more frequent visits to Lucius, Severus attempted to find the most obvious murderer and use the clues he found investigating that to find someone better to point his potion-stained fingers at. Therefore, when he chose Lucius as his temporary suspect, he didn't feel too bad. But, using Lucius as a corner piece of the puzzle that was Harry Potter's murder was surprisingly… difficult. For one thing, gaining access to personal information regarding the haughty blond was rather challenging. For another, he didn't even have a proper time frame to look into.
Poor Severus still persevered, though, and spent many late nights going over every encounter between Lucius and Potter that could be even remotely relevant to the boy's murder. Then, he realized that despite his blind picking of a suspect Lucius was, for lack of a better term, rather suspicious- and not just in the way that all former death eaters were suspicious.
For example, Lucius had a viable motive. He had been consistently embarrassed by the tiny little Potter gremlin, even getting close to imprisonment due solely to the Potter brat. While that may not have sounded very murder-worthy if applied to anyone else, insulting a Malfoy was the equivalent of yanking a hippogriff's feathers. That is to say, a very bad idea.
And now that Severus was actually entertaining the idea of Lucius murdering the wretched little teenager…
Clues kept piling up. Lucius had been in contact with a potioneer specializing in poison in the month before the savior's death was announced, he had poked into the ministry's records a bit within the year leading up to Potter's death, which could have provided him with the miscreant's muggle address, and according to Draco had been on edge around the time that the news of Potter's death spread, barely able to sit still. Sure, those things could be explained away, but when thinking about those things and the few tidbits of information that the public had access to regarding the youngest Potter's death…
Very suspicious.
But, soon after starting to seriously consider Lucius as a murder suspect, his classes started and he had dunderheads to teach. Oh, the joys of being forcefully stuck into a sociopath's pocket.
– – –
"... bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper on death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach." Severus knew it was a bit embarrassing, but he didn't ever change his little speech for the first years. It was just so good at shutting them up, and he couldn't be blamed for exploiting that.
However, as one particularly dull little barely-magical midget had the audacity to ask, "What does dunderhead mean, Mr. Snape?" in a rather horrid American accent, he had to remind himself that he could be blamed for murdering a student. He repeated that a little more fanatically as the student continued, "Sorry, sir, but my parents just moved here from Ohio. That's in America if you didn't know."
"I do know what a map is, Mr…?" Severus restrained himself from stomping over to the student to properly loom over them.
"Liam Johnson, sir." The dim-witted Hufflepuff didn't even sound phased by their rude teacher- yet.
"Well, Mr. Johnson," Severus practically spat the name, "that would be 15 points from Hufflepuff. Now, tell me, where would I find a bezoar?" Severus was ready to poison this little brussel sprout-looking fiend. Sadly, he would have to settle for public humiliation.
"...What's a bezoar?" Little Mr. Johnson even had the nerve to look confused. Anyone with half of a brain would find a way to avoid death by poison by the time they were eight, but no! These little idiots knew nothing.
"And another 15 points from Hufflepuff, Mr. Johnson. Tsk, tsk. A bezoar is a stone found in a goat's stomach that acts as an antidote to almost all poisons."
After that, Severus's lesson went swimmingly. For him, though- not for poor Mr. Johnson. The poor little firstie was thoroughly traumatized, and so was the number of points Hufflepuff house had gotten so far.
– – –
Once he had settled into teaching once more, he resumed his investigation into Lucius's potential murder of Potter. The first thing he really stuffed his nose into, though, was the potioneer Lucius had been in contact with. As a master potioneer, he could easily ask around about that so it only made sense to start there.
Hence him hiding behind a trash bin in Knockturn Alley across from the little apothecary the poison dealer worked at. He wouldn't be doing this normally, but when Albus demanded things of him, he had no choice but to emulate the old goat's tendency to obsessively seek out any and all information. It didn't help that after putting so much effort into thinking about the mystery he'd found himself trapped in he was growing curious about the murderer. So far, though, all he had found out was a basic description of the wixen who may have sold poison to Lucius- blond, average height, and slightly tanned.
Soon enough, he saw someone walk into the apothecary. Normally, that wouldn't be at all suspicious, but the person who walked in looked to be a Weasley, and this was Knockturn Alley. Unable to deny his curiosity, Severus swept out from behind the trash bin and spelled away any wrinkles or dirt that may have accumulated in his robes. Once that was over with, he stalked into the apothecary like a man on a mission.
"What do you mean there aren't any secrecy vows between customers and brewers?!" That must be the Weasley, what with the shouting.
"I'm sorry, sir, but that would be entirely unnecessary. There's no reason to tell anyone about who's purchasing what, anyways." A low, calm voice replied. Severus assumed it was the wixen who had sold Lucius the poison, though, as he hadn't seen anyone other than Weasley arrive at the apothecary all day.
"I- You- Unnecessary?!" Weasley spluttered. Severus had gotten a good view of the people conversing, and found that it was the poison dealer and the youngest male Weasley.
"Yes, sir, unnecessary."
Weasley actually growled and stormed out of the shop. The little beast hadn't been taught etiquette at all. How barbaric.
"Are you going to buy anything, or are you just going to stand there?"
"I apologize, Mx...?"
"Wilson."
"Well, Mx. Wilson, I was here to buy two calming draughts, but didn't want to interrupt that foul little boy."
So, Severus had come in contact with the poison dealer, and they were surprisingly… normal. But now he wanted to know why Weasley was screaming at them about secrecy vows regarding items purchased within the shop, and that meant looking into Weasley as well as Lucius, which would just be…
Ugh.
Forget Saturdays, any day when he was given the opportunity to be curious was positively dreadful.
