Disclaimer: Despite loving Harry Potter and the movie Clue, I own neither. I guess the same sort of thing applies with Johnny Depp, The Mormon Tabernacle choir, and chocolate milkshakes. Oh well.
Author's Note: Thank you, Sulwyn of the North- whom I affectionately call Marquesas, Marsa, Miss, and Poopsie- for the happy disclaimer. I am incompetent in such matters.
Clue
I.
In Which Six Guests Arrive at Hill House
Atop a dark and mysterious mountain, there rests a dark and mysterious house, named appropriately Hill House. It was here that a rather eerie automobile was headed, with a rather eerie individual driving it. What this particular person was doing driving a car, only time will tell, because it just so happened that this particular person was of the wizarding race.
Once at the doorway to Hill House, a woman, tall and ominous, stood from the automobile, revealing her long, jet black hair and intense, violet eyes. She climbed the stairs to the front door, passing a pair of massive canine guards to enter out of the chill of night and into the large house. She wiped her heels on the mat and made her way down the long, emblazoned hall in a straight black skirt and simple white blouse, with a gray blazer over.
Entering the library, she found her Bulgarian counterpart shining the silver.
"Is everything ready?" she asked in a low, smooth voice.
"Yes, Madam," he answered quietly in his thick accent.
"You have your... instructions?" she asked.
He nodded deeply and returned to the silver.
The woman made her way back through the hall into the kitchen to see a small house elf hard at work.
"Everything all right, Minnie?" she asked the small elf.
"Dinner will be ready at 7:30," she squeaked in a small voice before turning back to the food.
A loud ring emanated from the front hall and the woman turned quickly and made her way down the hall, pausing for a moment to take a deep breath and focus herself before opening the door. A woman with sandy blonde hair falling to her chin in severe layers stood, staring with her large brown eyes suspiciously at the woman at the door. She wore a red dress that clung to her upper half, and then fell smoothly to her ankles and fell of the shoulders elegantly.
"Good evening," the woman in black said with a peculiarly lightened voice.
"Good evening," the blonde woman said in a deep, nearly guttural voice, "I don't know if..."
"Yes, indeed, you are expected, Colonel." The woman with violet eyes directed the Colonel inside and took her coat, "It is Colonel Mustard, isn't it?"
"No, that's not my name," the blonde woman said, looking rather puzzled, "my name is Colonel..."
"Please, Madam," she cut Mustard off, "tonight you may well feel obliged to my employer for the use of an alias."
"And, who are you?" she asked politely, now that it seemed there was no further reason to be apprehensive.
"I'm Cambri Wadsworth, Madam."
Wadsworth led Colonel Mustard into the library, introducing her to Viktor, the Bulgarian help.
"You will give the Colonel anything she requires," Wadsworth instructed Viktor, "within reason that is..."
Another bell rang throughout the house and Wadsworth left the library to attend the door once again.
She opened it to see a tall, pale man completely in black standing before her. He had limp black hair that fell to his neck and wore a stiff black cloak that covered every inch of him, making him appear some sort of specter, rather than mere mortal man.
"Do come in, Sir, you are expected," she said, keeping considerably calm at the sight of this frightening man.
"Do you know who I am?" he asked tightly.
"Only that you are to be known as Mr.... White."
"Yes," he said, looking down at a slip of paper in his hand, "it said so in the letter, but... why?"
Instead of answering, Wadsworth took the man's cloak, revealing even more black, and hung it beside the white one already deposited from Colonel Mustard.
Wadsworth led Mr. White into the library with the other guest and introduced them, though she detected a flash of familiarity in both faces.
Down the road from Hill House, a tall, rugged looking man in a burgundy-colored suit stood on the side of the road, looking rather desperate. A cloud thundered above and he sighed sadly as he knew the rain would come any moment.
Suddenly, in the darkness a pair of car lights came heading down the road, stopping in front of him. A feminine, but strong voice called from inside, "Want a lift?"
"Yes, please," he answered, climbing into the car as the rain started to fall. "Thanks," he started, before realizing who he was sitting beside. "Hermione?" he asked, stunned.
The woman with thick brown curls turned to look at her companion.
"Sirius!" she cried. "What are you doing here?" she stuttered.
"I'm late for a dinner date, I couldn't apparate any further than that."
"I had the same problem a few miles back, but I got a hold of a car..." she started the car, realizing that talking would not get them to their destination any faster. "Where are you headed?"
"Let's see," he reached in his pocket for a slip of paper, "Hill House, off Route 41."
"Wait a minute, that's where I'm going," she said, taking the paper from him, "I got a letter like this."
They both sat in awe as the car took them to the gate of Hill House and up the drive.
Wadsworth was introducing a young man with bright red hair as Mr. Peacock when another ring came from the door and he left them. A tall woman with silvery blonde hair pulled tightly in a bun stood at the doorway in a tight, turquoise dress.
"Ah, you must be Miss Green," Wadsworth said amid the barks of the guard dogs.
"Yes," she affirmed.
"Sit!" Wadsworth shouted at the dogs, causing the silvery-blonde woman to retreat quickly to the bench. "No, not you, Madam."
The woman stood slowly, embarrassed, and made her way into the house.
7:30 arrived at the same time as Hermione and Sirius and Wadsworth was getting worried at having his guests arrive after dinner. Luckily, the bell rang, announcing the last two guests' arrival.
"Mr. Scarlet, Professor Plum, I didn't realize you were acquainted," Wadsworth said upon opening the door to both of them.
"It was a surprise to us as well," Sirius said to Wadsworth, then turning to Hermione, "Wasn't it, Professor Plum?"
She smiled and followed Wadsworth into the house, depositing her coat at the door.
"May I introduce Mr. Scarlet and Professor Plum," Wadsworth said upon entering the library, full of people. "As you are all being addressed by an alias, you will notice that nobody here is being addressed by their real name."
"I really don't see why," Professor Plum turned to face Wadsworth, "It seems we're all old friends anyway, doesn't it, Ron, dear?" she turned a slightly cynical face to the red-haired Mr. Peacock. He turned averted his eyes quickly.
"I'm sorry," Wadsworth said, seeming surprised, "I didn't realize. I'm sure my employer will understand if you all wish to address each other by your rightful names."
"No," came the French voice of Miss Green, "I much prefer the pseudonyms. It's not as if we've seen much of each other lately."
"That's certainly true," came the voice of Colonel Mustard.
Plum turned her eyes to meet Mustard's. "Luna?" she breathed quietly.
Colonel Mustard smiled up at her and nodded. "No real names, remember, Plum?"
"Right."
Wadsworth took the moment of awkward silence to announce dinner and lead everyone into the dining room in which they all took their rightful seats. Colonel Mustard, Mr. Scarlet, and Miss Green facing Mr. Peacock, Professor Plum, and Mr. White.
"Is this seat for you?" Colonel Mustard asked Wadsworth, referring to the seat at the end of the table.
"Dear no, Madam, I am merely a humble butler."
"And what exactly do you do?"
"I butle, Madam."
"Which means what? I thought butlers were usually male."
"The butler is head of the kitchen and dining room, I keep everything tidy; that's all."
"Well," Mr. Peacock asked, sitting in his end seat, "what is this about, Butler, this dinner party?"
"Not as to reason why, as what to do and die," the butler answered cryptically.
"Die?" Professor Plum asked as she sat down and removed her gloves.
"Merely quoting, Madam, from Alfred Lord Tennison," Wadsworth explained.
"I prefer Kipling myself," Mustard said as she brushed the stick-straight hair out of her face with a bobby pin, "the female of the species is more deadly than the male."
Viktor came ambling from the kitchen, an armful of bowls in tow and smiled at Professor Plum as he did so.
"Spaetzle soup, Sir," he said as he placed a bowl in front of Mr. Peacock, and proceeded to serve each of the dinner guests.
"Is the remaining seat for our host?" Colonel Mustard asked Wadsworth as a bowl of soup was placed before him.
"No, Madam," she said, "for the seventh guest, Mrs. Body."
"I thought Mrs. Body was our host," Mr. White said darkly.
"So did I," said the other five guests in varying forms.
Wadsworth merely smiled ironically.
"Then who is our host, Miss Wadsworth?" asked Mr. White a second time.
Left in silence, the guests turned their attention to the soup set before them.
"I'm going to start while it's still hot," Professor Plum said, adjusting her napkin in her lap.
"Shouldn't we wait for the other guest?" Mr. Peacock looked to his right to see Plum glaring at him.
"I will keep something warm for her," Viktor said harshly.
"What did you have in mind?" said Mr. Scarlet suggestively.
This brought about a silence as a few people bent down to slurp their soup from their spoons. Both Wadsworth and Viktor left the six guests together, looking shiftily in each other's directions until finally Mr. Peacock spoke.
"Well," he said, wiping his napkin to the corner of his mouth, "someone's got to break the ice and it might as well be me. I mean, it's always difficult when a group of old friends get together for the first time so I'm perfectly prepared to get the ball rolling. I mean, I have absolutely no idea what we're doing here- or what I'm doing here- or what this place is about, but I am determined to enjoy myself and very intrigued and, oh my, this soup's delicious, isn't it?"
Mr. Peacock looked up to meet a trio of awe-struck faces on the visages of Mustard, Scarlet, and Green. Wadsworth and Viktor entered the dining room again to serve the main dish, breaking the uncomfortable moment.
"So," Miss Green looked to Mr. Peacock, "what does your wife do?"
"Nothing," he said shortly.
"Nothing?" Miss Green asked slyly, "In times like these? That is a crime."
"Yes, well, she just lies around on her back all day," he tried to recover.
"Sounds like hard work to me," said Mr. Scarlet, wincing as if reliving some painful memory.
"This is one of my favorite recipes," Professor Plum said to Wadsworth as she was leaving back into the kitchen.
"I know, Madam," she said quietly in return.
"Well, what do you do, Miss Green?" he asked, trying to keep his eyes at eye-level while she was wearing an unbearably low-cut dress.
She remained silent.
"Come on, what do you do? How are we supposed to get acquainted if we don't say anything about ourselves?"
"Perhaps she doesn't want to get acquainted with you," Mr. Scarlet said, sounding full of triumph, as if he had just defended the fair damsel's honor.
"Well, I'm sure if I wasn't trying to keep the ball rolling we would all just be sitting here in an embarrassed silence," Mr. Peacock nearly shrieked before returning ravenously to his plate.
"Are you afraid of silence, Mr. Peacock?" Professor Plum glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.
"Yes...what... no, why?" he stammered.
"You just seem to suffer from what we call 'pressure of speech'."
"We?" Mr. Scarlet said, lifting an eyebrow. "Are you a shrink?"
"I do know a bit about psychological medicine," Professor Plum said proudly.
"So, you're a doctor?" Mr. White asked skeptically.
"I am, but I don't practice," she said quietly.
"So what do you do?" he asked again, as if an interrogation were being held.
"I work for the United Nations."
"A politician?" Colonel Mustard looked utterly disgusted.
"No, I work for a brancher- WHO- the World Health Organization."
"What is your area of special concern?" Miss Green asked.
"Family planning," she looked to Colonel Mustard, "What about you, Colonel, are you a real colonel?"
"I am," the blonde-haired girl said proudly.
The conversation was abruptly cut off by a ring pealing throughout the house. They turned their heads to the door to the hall and saw Wadsworth quickly come from the kitchen and answer the door. They strained their ears to hear the conversation that followed.
"Ah, you are eagerly awaited, Madam," the familiar voice of Wadsworth said.
"You locking me in?" a high-pitched, but strong voice said.
Silence.
"Give me the key," the unknown person said.
"Over my dead body," Wadsworth said loudly.
Wadsworth returned, leading an unknown, robust woman with thick brown hair to the table.
"What are they all doing here?" she asked out of the corner of her mouth.
"Having dinner," said Wadsworth, "Do sit down, Mrs. Body."
The obese woman walked to the end of the table and sat down hesitantly.
Viktor strode out of the kitchen to place a bowl of soup before Mrs. Body, to which she lifted her hands in protest.
"No, you can take that away, honey," she said, smiling up at him. He returned shortly with a plate of the main course.
"No thanks, Viktor, I just ate." The large woman reached her hand up and gave Viktor's bum a sharp squeeze, to which he backed up a step. The company averted their eyes, a look of embarrassment and disgust apparent in each of their faces.
"Look," Mr. Peacock said, his face turning a ripe red, "I demand to know what's going on here. Why have we all been dragged up here to this horrible place?"
"Well," Wadsworth said, removing a slip of paper, similar to that held by the rest of the group, "I believe we all received a letter. My letter says, 'it will be to your advantage to be present on this date because a Mrs. Body will bring to an end a certain longstanding, confidential, and painful financial liability.' It is signed 'A Friend.'"
"I received a similar letter," Miss Green purred.
"So did we," Mr. Scarlet looked to Professor Plum, "didn't we?" to which she nodded shortly.
"I also received a letter," Mrs. Body said quietly.
"Forgive my curiosity," Wadsworth said, "but did your letter say the same thing?"
"No," the immense woman said shortly.
"I see," Wadsworth looked suspiciously to the six guests who were each questioning her with their eyes. "Can I interest anyone fruit or dessert?"
No one made a move.
"In that case," Wadsworth continued, "let us adjourn to the study for coffee and brandy, where I believe our unknown host will reveal his intentions."
End Note: That's all for now! Come back soon.