A/n: In this chapter I'm following the narrative from when Kingsley's body is discovered to when news reaches the order. So bear with me and I hope you enjoy.
Chapter Four:
"Did you get it?" Twitch asked, cracking his knuckles nervously. His gaze swivelled around the dark alley just in case someone was following them.
"Of course I got. When Lance Derrick makes a promise he sticks to it. The real question is do you have the money, Twitch?" A large man stepped out from the shadows. His chin was covered in blonde stubble and he had a pink scar running down his left cheek. A large hand was clamped onto a gun hidden inside his coat.
"Yeah man I got the cash. It wasn't easy to get and I did some things I never thought I'd do." He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a brown paper bag. "Here it is."
Derrick reached out his free hand and roughly grabbed the bag from Jay's grip. "Is it all here?" he asked eyeing his jumpy client suspiciously. "Cuz if it ain't then I'll have to blow your brains out." Lance pulled back his coat to flash the gun at his side.
"It's all there man. I promise." Twitch's head swerved quickly to the left as a cat jumped noisily up onto a fence.
Lance chuckled to himself. "Are you really sure you need this stuff?" he asked playfully, waving a plastic bag in front of Twitch's face. The young man's eye followed the movement of the bag closely. When he made to reach for it the dealer pulled it quickly away. "I'm mean you already seem a bit tweaked as it is. I would be neglecting my obligations as a citizen if I let you take yourself over the line." Lance made a show of sticking the bag back into the coat of his leather coat. Even though the night was rather stuffy he still insisted on wearing his jacket.
"Cut the bullshit, man. Just give me the stuff." Twitch began to crack his knuckles again, trying to watch every corner of the dark in his sight at all times.
"That's wasn't a very polite way to ask," Lance laughed. He always had the most fun when he was messing with the junkies. Last night he had gotten a blow-job from some sixteen-year-old girl he was dealing to, and that was on top of the money.
Unfortunately Twitch didn't have anything he needed so this was just for a bit of sport.
"I said cut the bullshit," Twitch growled impatiently. "I need the stuff now. So cut the crap." He reached for a knife in his back pocket.
Lance's gaze followed his client's hand. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, Twitch," he warned pointing his gun at the young man's chest.
A cop car sped passed the mouth of the alley heading to a car accident three blocks over. Its red and blue lights filled the alley for a brief second.
Twitch and Lance nearly jumped out of their skins. Taking this chance Twitch pulled out his knife and plunged it into his dealer's side. The man howled in pain grabbing his bleeding side.
"Now give me my shit," Twitch commanded, prepared to attack again.
"You bastard." Lance aimed his gun at Twitch's head and pulled the trigger. The bullet just grazed the young man's cheek leaving a streak of blood.
A light somewhere above them turned on. Twitch squeaked and ran into the darkness. Lance shot randomly in the direction the druggie had dashed while trying to not to faint from his blood loss.
Twitch heard the shots behind him and sped up as if the sound of them was some whip in the hands of a cruel slave driver.
As he checked for a pursuit his feet tripped into something warm. Twitch fell to the dirty street scraping the palms of his hand. Scrambling to his feet he peered through the darkness to see what he had tripped over. He swung his arms out till they fell into a large cold mound. He moved his face closer.
He was staring at a body. It was a large black man with a golden hoop in his left ear. A stick was lying at his side in a puddle of blood. Something was scratched into his head but Twitch couldn't make it out. He pulled his hands away in horror.
The sounds of approaching sirens woke him from his morbid curiosity. With one last look at the body he ran out of the alley and disappeared into the night.
At the coroner's office
"Did he have any identification on him?" Chief Inspector Hunter asked the coroner, looking pointedly at the man covered by a white sheet.
"Yes he did. He had a badge of some sort. His name was Kingsley Shacklebolt."
"A badge?"
"Yep. It's over there on the table," the coroner absent-mindedly said, scribbling some stuff in his report on the deceased.
Hunter wandered over to the table. A pair of black dress pants and a blood stained white shirt were sitting there neatly folded. A golden pocket watch glimmered in the florescent lighting humming overhead.
The Chief Inspector slipped his hand into a latex glove and picked up a small silver badge. On it was some sort of seal. Two sticks crossing each other with a set of balancing scales in the background. Across the bottom was a word that struck the inspector as rather odd.
"What do you suppose Auror means?" he asked the coroner, flipping the badge over. The name 'Kingsley Shacklebolt' was embossed on the silver surface.
"Your guess is as good as mine," the coroner said pulling the white sheet off of the man's body.
Hunter set the badge back onto the metal table and sauntered over to the medical table. He stared down at the body not even flinching.
"How did he die?" the Inspector wondered, not seeing any visible wounds.
"We don't know," the examiner muttered.
"You don't know?" Hunter asked confusedly. "How can you not know. That's why we throw all that money at you so you can determine how someone died."
"Th-that's true," the coroner stuttered. "But our tests show that man was in perfect health. The only noticeable damage was on the top of his head. And that was done post-mortem."
Hunter moved down to the head of the table and stared at the large black man's bald head. Scratched into his dark skin was a menacing skull with a snake slithering from its mouth. Hunter felt a sickening feeling rising in his stomach.
He'd seen that symbol somewhere before. But he couldn't remember.
"Sir?"
Hunter shook his head and looked over at the coroner. "Are you okay? You looked like you had seen a ghost."
"I'm fine. I guess I'm just a bit tired that's all. Have you made a sketch of that?"
"Your partner was down here a little while ago. She got everything."
"Yes, well I guess I'll go up and see her. See if she has any hunches on what this could be."
"Have a good night Inspector." The coroner nodded his head.
"You too, John."
Hunter's Office
"So what do you think, Alicia?" Hunter asked his partner five minutes later. "About the carving I mean?"
"Well," Alicia said shuffling through a folder. "We don't have it any of our reports but I still think it may be gang related. He might've been a dealer."
"What makes you think that?" Hunter dropped a tea bag into a steaming cup.
"We found this near his body," she said in a low smoky voice passing her boss a picture.
The Inspector stared at the needle in the picture. It was lying right near the victim's right arm.
"Did you dust it for prints?" he asked setting the picture on his cluttered desk. A picture of his late wife smiled up at him.
"Yep. They belonged to this man." Alicia handed him a thin smile. Hunter opened it up and looked down at a frowning young man with short brown hair and clod decisive eyes.
"His name is Jay Harris but on the streets he goes by the name Twitch. One of our men picked him up a couple of months ago for possession but he was released on bail. He still lives with his mum."
Hunter scanned through the file but nothing caught his eye. He shut it and through it on top of the picture from the scene. Pulling the tea bag out of his cup he stirred in some sugar and took a small soothing sip.
"So he had contact with our man? Were they sharing a needle or something?" Hunter asked tipping a stream of hot tea into his mouth.
"Our man was clean. He did have Twitch's finger prints on his shirt. So that leads me to think that Twitch may have killed him."
Hunter set down his cup and scratched his chin thoughtfully. "So let's get this straight. Our man, Kingsley, was most likely a dealer. He must've screwed Twitch over somehow and in a rage the little guy killed him."
"That's the conclusion I came to," Alicia said, her red hair framing her pale face.
"So where does the carving come in?" Hunter remembered the horrible bloody picture etched into the dead man's scalp.
"That's the only missing piece of the puzzle. Why don't you take a look at the sketch I did? Maybe it will make better sense to you." She set the sketch on the Inspector's desk.
His eye throbbing nervously Hunter picked it up and peered at it, beads of sweat rolling down his face.
A pale green light splashed over his mind. He saw the skull floating over a small white house. A writhing snake protruded from its mouth. Beneath it in a manicured lawn was the bodies of five people, a man, woman, and three little children. A small baby was clutched to its mother's side.
Hunter gasped and dropped the picture to the floor. His breathing was rough and coming in short bursts. Quickly he sat in his leather chair, trying to stop his hands from shaking.
"Are you okay?" Alicia inquired her hand near the phone ready to call for medical attention. Worry lines creased her ivory face.
"I'm fine," Hunter answered in a raspy voice, clutching his thudding chest. "I'm just a little tired that's all. I had trouble sleeping last night."
"Okay," Alicia said sceptically, picking her sketch up off the hard wood floor and setting it back on the inspector's desk. "Can I get you anything?"
Get me the address of Mister Shacklebolt's residence. If that is really his actual name."
"Yes sir. Will you be okay?" She looked back at him from the doorway.
"Of course I will. Now get!"
Hunter sat back in his chair and stared at the picture thoughtfully trying to recall the images that had just rushed though his mind. Nothing.
Kingsley's Apartment
"This is the place?" Hunter stared at a derelict old apartment building in the bad part of town. "Not exactly what I'd call a home for a dealer."
Alicia looked down at the notebook in her hands. "Yep this is the place. Property taxes on a place like this are hell of a lot cheaper than the mansions our normal dealers live in."
"Well let's go up there and give the news to the misses," Hunter said in a resigned voice, staring up at the darkening sky.
The lobby of the building was a bit run down but it seemed to be holding up just fine. The cracked linoleum floors shimmered in the pool of light from the rusted chandelier hanging above it.
A small black woman was bustling down a flight of stairs, dragging behind her a large trunk. A small boy hopped down after her. He was wearing a blue robe. The woman Hunter presumed to be the boy's mother had on a dark red cloak.
"Hurry up, Cal," she said in a distraught voice, fear filled her dark eyes. "We have to get out of here."
"Where are we going?" the boy asked, pretending to fly around the lobby.
"We are going to visit some of your father's friends." She let out a strangled cry when the trunk fell to the floor, scraping the back of her ankle.
"Do you need any help, miss?" Hunter offered, walking over to her. Alicia followed closely behind.
The woman looked up at him with suspicion; her eyes were red and puffy. As if she had been crying. "I can manage just fine thanks. Cal! Stop misbehaving or the lethifold will come and get you."
The boy squeaked in fear and ran to his mother's side. The perfect little angel.
"Cute kid you have there," Alicia said, with a tone of laughter in her voice.
"Thank you. I don't mean to be rude but we really need to get out of here." Her voice had a sense of urgency about. She looked nervously around the lobby.
"We'll only be a second. Do you know a Mrs. Shacklebolt?" Hunter asked.
The woman's face paled. "Don't know who you talking 'bout," she said grabbing Cal's hand. "Come on sweetie we need to go." She attempted to break for the door but Alicia stood in her way.
"We'll only take a second of your time," the red-haired woman said in the friendliest voice she could muster. "We just want to ask you a few questions."
"Stay away from me and my baby," she shouted, pulling out a long stick. "I'm warning you." She pointed it right at Alicia.
She gave Hunter a quizzical look as if to ask if the woman was mental.
"We don't want to hurt you," he calmly stated holding up his hands.
"Do you recognise this?" Alicia pulled out her sketch of the carving and showed it to the woman.
The woman screamed, grabbed her son and for the doors just as a short young woman walked in. Her face fell when she saw the state the other woman was in.
"Is everything okay, Ursula?" She had bright pink hair and an aqua robe on.
"Death Eaters!" Ursula screeched, pointing at Alicia and Hunter. Cal was cowering behind her shaking in fear.
The new arrival also pulled out a stick, hers shorter than the other's.
The young woman stared at them. Hunter reached into his pocket and pulled out his badge. He flashed it for both women to see. "I'm Chief Inspector Hunter. My partner, Alicia, and I are investigating the murder of Kingsley Shacklebolt, a tenant here."
"They're not Death Eaters, Ursula," the woman whispered. "They're just muggle please men."
"Are you sure, Tonks?" Ursula asked fearfully.
"Yes, I'm sure. Come on let's go. Albus has called a meeting and we need to get you into hiding for a while."
Before Hunter could stop them they ran out the doors. He and Alicia dashed out onto the sidewalk but there was no one there. They looked up and down the street but it was empty. Like they had disappeared into thin air.
"That was weird," Alicia said, scribbling away in her notebook.
"Yes, very interesting. I think we have something bigger then just a dealer getting killed. I think we have stumbled onto a ring of dealers and a drug war to boot. Did you hear what that woman said? 'Albus has called a meeting and we need to get you into hiding...' This is big. Did you get everything?"
"Yep," Alicia confirmed, reading over her notes. "So what are we going to do? We just lost his wife." She snapped the notebook shut and slipped into her breast pocket.
"We're going back to the station. I want to put together an entire team. I won't have any drug rings and wars in my town."
Number 12 Grimmauld Place
"Dead..." Harry croaked, sitting down on Ron's creaky bed.
"Yes," Lupin sniffled, trying to keep his composure. "He was found in an alley a few blocks from here. Someone... someone carved the dark mark into his head.
Hermione burst into tears. Ron enveloped her into a hug, letting her head rest on his chest. His own tears dropped into Hermione's poofy hair.
Harry watched them wishing that he could cry. But no tears wanted to come.
"Where's Ginny?" Remus asked Harry, letting Ron and Hermione grieve.
"She went to Diagon Alley with Luna," Harry answered darkly, his body tensed up in worry and fear. His body had only been found two blocks from here. Was it possible Voldermort knew where they were.
"Don't worry," Remus said, as if reading Harry's thoughts. "The only way Voldermort could find this place is if Dumbledore told him. And I doubt that will ever happen."
"But what if...?"
Remus cut Harry off. "I don't have time for this. I'm sorry, Harry. I have to go and get Ginny. You three do not leave, under any circumstance."
Harry nodded. Ron looked up at Remus through blood shot eyes and nodded as well. Hermione continued to cry.
"Everything will be okay," Remus said before leaving the room.
There was that phrase again.
"Nothing will ever be okay," Harry muttered. The faces of his parent's and Sirius floated in his mind. How could it be with so much death?