Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. The content within this story does not reflect upon J.K. Rowling or anyone officially with Harry Potter. This story is mine, along with anything you don't recognize. (Basically.) Do not borrow from or archive this story without my permission.

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Author Notes (January 12, 2005): I'm reposting all my stories from all my accounts here, as soon as I re-read and correct anything I find. I still probably won't catch all of it, and the formatting is giving me hell, so if you catch mistakes or see something you think I should work on please tell me, and I'll turn some attention on it. Oh, and this is my first ever story in any genre, everything. So, don't expect too much, mmkay?

America Septentrionalis: A Vaticinatio

Jess Scefing

A dark room, with the outlines of three people sitting behind a table. In the center of the room is a chair with a girl aroundfourteen sitting on it. A bright light is above the chair, reflecting slightly off the highly polished white linoleum tiles . The person on the far right of the table, a man, takes a drink and continues talking.

"What did you see? Will you tell us?"

"Were your parents dead when you got home?"

"If not, had you spoken with them yet? Seen them before the incident took place?"

"Did you hear anything?"

"Did you see anyone leave the house? Was anyone expected to be over at that time?"

"If you don't say anything, how do you expect us to catch the monster who did this? That is what they are. You saw the bodies, I know you did. Your parents were tortured. Help us. We can catch them, but we will have to have your cooperation. We want to help."

Different approach...

"This doesn't look good for you."

Silence, but her jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed slightly. Not much, but her interrogator was an expert at reading expressions, and knew how to use it to his advantage. The person next to him, a woman, caught it also and there was the scratch of pen on parchment as she made a note. A tape recorder was also running, operated by the man on the far left, an investigator.

"No, it doesn't look good for you. Your parents were murdered. You were the only one at the scene when we arrived. You don't have a very strong alibi. For all we know, you might have apparated illegally to get home early, and murdered your parents. You might not have, but you refusing to help us looks very suspicious, you know. Especially since we are only trying to find your parents murders."

"… Check by the river. Not the big one on the back of the property, but the small creek right behind the house. It rained earlier in the day so any prior footprints should be erased. Mine are there, I know that much. The shoes I'm wearing now are the ones I wore then if you need to match any of them." The man with the tape recorder sighed. They had already found the footprints. The girl's, two others, and the prints of about five of his men. He had ripped them a new one for it, and planned to continue when he got out of here.

The questioner spoke again: "Thank you. Is there anything else you feel you should tell us? We already asked about your reaction. You didn't tell us anything. We will be able to find out more if you tell us what you did." The familiar pause that said she wasn't going to answer. He started to another question but was stopped.

"I came in the back door. Er, the one that comes in from the garage, not the basement. I saw my parent's bodies. I flooed the emergency fire here. I went into the bathroom, washed my face, then went outside to wait."

"For what?"

"For the tooth fairy." She dripped sarcasm.

"Did you touch the bodies? Any of the things around them?"

"No."

"We found your prints on things around the bodies an-"

"Because it's my living room! Of course you will find my finger prints on stuff!"

"- and on the bodies themselves." This was a lie, but he had made the most progress with accusations. If he got her upset she might blurt something out or say more than she meant to.

"That's hard to believe. You can tell they were killed with a spell. There shouldn't be any prints on either of them. Unless some more of your agents screwed up that evidence too."

That stung. He was already fuming about his men tromping through the mud. The psychologist made a few more notes. The interrogator almost laughed. Smart kid. Bold too, but that wasn't going to make her any easier to trap. Threat time.

"If you don't tell us what we need to know," he paused for half a second. That had sounded too Goodfellas. "We will sweat you. Do you know what that is? We-"

"Yes, I do. You will give me a truth serum."

"Right. And we will find out if you did it or not."

"Hmm. Good."

"Lets try again. Do you know anyone who would want to do this?"

"You told us what time you got home, which we can verify by truth serum, or even the portkey you say you took home. Did you see anything?"

"Get a permit for the use of Veritaserum." he spoke aloud to the room before focusing again on her. "If you turn around and walk straight you will find a door. Someone will be waiting to take you to where you will stay tonight. For obvious reasons you can't go home."

"Joy. Do I get a little mint on my pillow also?"After some quick fumbles for the doorknob in the dark, there was a flash of light as she opened it and left. It swung shut behind her, leaving only the white light in the center of the room shining on the empty chair. The investigator rose a moment later.

"I'll you leave you two the tape to review, not that there is much there. I'm off to go teach some people not to make an ass out of me by shoving my foot up theirs. They all but drove the ATV out of the garage and spun donuts in the tracks..." The remaining two watched him leave, shying away from the bright circle of light as he went.

"It's not often you let someone get away without answering your question. Are you perhaps actually showing a shred of compassion?"

"Perhaps. Can you just imagine the shock of coming home to find your parents laying dead in the living room floor?"

"Do you think they were dead when she got home?"

"No. Do you?"

"No. I think she saw or heard some of it. Maybe all of it. We'll know for sure when the autopsy comes back along with the portkey records." She paused. "She hasn't lied to us yet. Do you really think Veritaserum is necessary?"

"If she won't talk. And it was more of a threat to begin with. But I doubt we could even get the permit. Her being a minor, everyone still flinching when someone mentions "The Case", it would be hard to get. Besides, a small town double homicide will probably do nothing more than stink up the local press. It's too isolated."

"That's what I was thinking."

"What do you think about her not talking?"

"My first thought was she knew whoever did it, and losing two people already, she didn't want to lose more or make enemies by ratting. But I've gotten more the impression she isn't protecting them. Maybe herself, maybe her parents memory. Maybe she is afraid of saying something that leads us to the wrong person. I doubt the last one, but it is a possibility."

"So instead of leading us to the wrong person she leads us no where?"

"I don't really know yet. I'm sort of stuck. She knows what she is doing."

"That's for sure. Most kids trying to hide something will try to lead you on another path, to get you away from certain topics. She knows we don't have anything on her, and she can afford to keep quiet without becoming a suspect. Hmm. I suppose we could threaten her with obstruction of justice?"

"I don't like threats. And I don't think it would work on her. The Veritaserum one didn't anyway."

"I know."

"...It is unlikely, but... there is her uncle?"

"Her uncle? I thought the rest of her family was dead? No next of kin."

"Only because her last relative was incarcerated."

"And the plot thickens... Fine. Who is her uncle?"

"I found it in her family records. Sirius Black is her uncle, and we know that after that huge blunder with the British Ministry he went to a warmer climate. The Midwest in late August is defiantly a warm climate."

"True. I feel I should mention this, though I don't know if it is worth anything."

"So say it. If you keep thinking about it it probably has some relevance."

"I was glancing through her school transcripts, and she is the current dueling champ at Salem in her year, and that her and the top kid in the year above her decided to have a contest and it was a good fight, but she totally reamed him in the end. Not in her school records, but I also read she has a background in martial arts. She might not have the ability to kill someone with a spell, but I'm sure if she saw someone attacking her parents she would at least try to stun them. You saw how cocky she is, and add to that she is basically in her element, I wouldn't think she would just stand there and watch."

"Unless there were more of them than the tracks we found, and she realized she was hopelessly outmatched. Her parents weren't weak, and she probably learned most of those hexes from them, truth be known. If they couldn't defend themselves, maybe she just realized she would have only gotten in the way. Or, most likely, she was scared. Do you know what's going to happen to her?"

"Not entirely. It is going to be Witness Protection for sure. I would bet you money on that."

"She won't be going back to Salem will she?"

"Can't."

"

Canada, New Zealand, Australia, or-"

"Britain. Hogwarts."

"Why?"

"Well, her mom was British."

"And what does that have to do with it? Her psycho uncle's last definite sighting was inside the school. Inside. He had managed to sneak in on several occasions, and even when they had him locked inside a room he snuck out."

"We have a feeling they may be after her." She snorted.

"Obviously. In not she wouldn't be in W.P."

"Her parents were old friends with the headmaster, Dumbledore. You've heard of him right?"

"Who hasn't?"

"They feel she will be safest there and Dumbledore said she could stay at the school."

"I'm sure she will enjoy that."

"Oh she will, as long as her batteries hold out. After that she will be ready to go live with NMs. They are positively medieval there. They deem "Muggles" as inferior and shun any of their inventions."

"Muggles?"

"Non-Magics."

"Not much for politically correctness are they?"

"Or electricity."

"Oh, she will just have the time of her life. Before she left her house she made an extra trip inside to grab her CD player. She will be in for some culture shock. When is she going to leave?"

"We will have her all day tomorrow."

"That definitely won't be enough time for a permit. And she would probably never take it of free will."

"That won't happen soon. You know, the kid wasn't crying at all when we arrived?

Just sitting with her back to a tree, looking as calm as can be. Oh gods, stop me, I'm rhyming."

"Yeah, a fourteen year old stoic. I'm sure she did cry though. Remember, she said she washed her face. And her eyes were a bit red when I got to her. She just didn't want everyone knowing she cried.

"I'm leaving. Review the tape if you want, and here are the notes I have with some of her background info too." She dropped them on the table and left, walking in a straight line to the door.

He waited until she left, went to the door himself and flipped out the single light in the room, leaving the tape and notes behind.