Chapter 1

The way people acted, you would have thought it was just another party. Women in red and white cocktail dresses floated about the room, clinking glasses and making small talk, and the men stood around in small clusters drinking beer. Waiters weaved in and out of the crowd, balancing trays of Hors d'Oeuvres, and smiling benignly. Crystal chandeliers sparkled from above; the red carpet lay soft and smooth beneath the partygoers' feet, and in the marble walled bathroom, Nairand Dares coughed blood into the sink, his reflection turning dark before his eyes. As the room spun out of focus, the last thing that ran through his memory was sipping his champagne as his beautiful companion said casually, "I don't particularly care for wizards."

"….. what do you think of this, Ron?"

"Have you heard about………"

"………. they don't think it's Him?"

"Poisoned? But the ministry…….."

"…….. come and have a look, Molly dear."

"No, Master, he wasn't one of ours………"

"Extra, Extra, read all about it!"

DEAD MINISTRY OFFICIAL CAUSES UPROAR AMONG WIZARDING COMMUNITY

"Dear me, Stephen, take a look at that." (A/N: Stephen is pronounced STEVen. Not STEFen. Just so you know how to pronounce his name)

Stephen Bidwell spun his chair around and caught the Prophet that had been tossed at him, scanning the front page.

High-Ranking ministry official Niarand Dares was found dead last night in the restroom of Lord Zinder's London mansion. Aurors that have recently inspected the scene can find no trace of any lethal spells that were used in the area, but all the best dark detectors are being put to use. Those that attended the party say that he arrived with an attractive date, who left his side soon after to mingle. He was seen with a number of gentlemen and ladies throughout the night, so there are no clear-cut suspects for the death. However, the bartender showed us the champagne glass he used, and it seemed that there might have been traces of poison at the bottom of the glass. The labs inside the ministry are hard at work trying to find the substance used. Minister of Magic Rufus Scrimegeour has refused to speak on the subject, but it is rumored that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had nothing to do with the attack. This apparent murder has been the most recent of a chain of notable kills, although this is the first time that someone as important as Mr. Dares has been attempted. Nairand has made many important changes in the ministry --------

"Yes, well, we all know what those were. That's not really important."

Stephen put the paper down and whistled. "That's some big news. And this was just last night? I'm surprised they didn't call us in. This is the first I've heard of it."

Stephen and Rowan worked in the Department of Magical Intelligence in the Ministry, a small team of highly specialized individuals trained to track down criminals using little or no magic. The wizarding equivalent of the CIA, they knew everything that went on, everywhere, every second. They would use this knowledge to connect the dots to a suspect that hadn't left any other kind of trail. Sometimes a murderer would choose to be very sneaky and not use anything that could be tracked with a magical device, to further prevent their detection. This particular one definitely did NOT want to be found, which annoyed the ministry to no end. The only information that the ministry had was that all of the victims were wizards or witches. Which was not unusual in the slightest.

"I'm sure they were about to. They just had other things on their minds…"

"Rowan, you forgot your rose-tinted glasses today."

"Ah, well, at least I'll have them tomorrow."

Stephen shook his head and turned back to his desk, flipping open the file of a man they had been watching for some time, who was suspected of selling black market dragon's eggs. Then something caught his eye. In the background of the only picture they had of the man, there was someone else. A dark haired woman was counting galleons into the hand of a gnarly looking old witch. The witch looked around furtively and slipped the woman a crystal bottle with an enameled rose on top, the common symbol of a poison known as 'Flower of the Vine'. It was supposed to make the victim feel like a vine of thorns was wrapping around his neck, while the actual poison slowly ate away the lining of the throat and lungs. A very painful way to die, 'Flower of the Vine' has no antidote and is illegal in all wizarding countries except Australia, where the native people have acquired an immunity to it and now use it to cure mild cases of indigestion.

Stephen magnified the scene and motioned to Rowan to take a look, and his eyes widened. "That…. That woman! I've seen her before! In the Leaky Cauldron, um…… about a month ago, I'd say, with Nairand! She… she bought him a drink, and, um, they flirted a little. I remember this very clearly, I remember thinking-" he stopped and blushed, obviously thinking the memory a little too hot to handle. But Stephen had stopped paying attention. He had turned around and grabbed his wand off the desk.

"Accio Memo!", he nearly screeched. He started to excitedly scribble out a message to the head of the department, grabbing the photo and folding it inside, then letting the piece of paper flap away. As they watched it fly out the door, their hopes rose. "We may just have a lead on this mysterious killer, Steve."

"Not just a killer, Rowan. An Assassin. "

Don't shoot me, this is my first fic. And like i said, it's being wrritten as a parallel to my friend betsy. so... yeah. i don't actually know her SN at this point in time, but when i find out, i'll let y'all know. yay.