Chapter Two: The Case

The black skull and twisting serpent tattoos seemed to writhe before Draco's eyes, and he rose to his feet, lips parted, eyes wide. He'd assumed some Dark curses had been used, perhaps an artefact left behind. Not this.

He tore his eyes away from the images of the Marks repeated over and over in the various photographs, but he could still see the design imprinted on his eyelids when he blinked. "What does this mean, Potter?"

"We're not sure yet," Harry admitted ruefully, a hand going through his hair once more. "Fugitive Death Eaters killing those that defected is nothing new. We managed to collar Yaxley when he did it back in ninety-nine. We've dealt with Voldemort sympathisers before."

Draco nodded. He remembered the case; it had caused a great deal of upset amongst those who had defected and testified to the Ministry, and the security on Azkaban had been tightened threefold to ensure the safety of the inmates from any kind of retribution. He sensed there was more, however. "But?"

Harry sighed. "But, there is a possibility that we have vigilantes going after Death Eaters, which would put a very different spin on things." He watched the tense breath that narrowed Malfoy's nostrils as he breathed in, and couldn't help but admire the man's self-control. "There's been a murmur of anti-Pureblood groups gathering and growing in strength. The Magical Law Enforcement Patrol has already arrested a few people – breaking up gatherings and the like. We can't let that kind of thing be encouraged by allowing them to make the papers. Blood prejudice in any form isn't good." He sighed, his face turning haggard for a moment as he thought of the battle that whole matter would become if it couldn't be quelled soon, then rallied himself. "We'd like you to identify the victims, if you can – they're not on any of our existing lists or files, and we're basically in the dark until we can figure who they are, and therefore, why anyone might have wanted to kill them in such a gruesome fashion. We want to narrow down whether they'd defected or not."

Draco shifted uncomfortably, well aware of the implications of both outcomes. Either way the situation could head south very quickly, especially for him. Even now, public opinions about the Malfoys were mixed, and vigilantes weren't always the most clear-sighted of individuals. To most, ex-Death Eaters were still Death Eaters; remorse didn't absolve past crimes, and most pleas of such feelings were regarded with deep scepticism in any case. He pulled his thoughts together, smoothing the frown that had creased his brow and nodded. "Show them to me."

Harry flicked his wand at a pair filing cabinets standing in the far right corner opposite the door, and a set of keys twisted in the seventh of the twelve locks that lined the top of each. Malfoy swivelled in his chair to watch as the middle drawers slid out impossibly far, each tray containing one of the cold bodies of the victims.

Draco turned back and raised an eyebrow at Potter. "You know that isn't a normal use for a filing cabinet."

Harry shrugged. "It's a necessary one, unfortunately."

Draco considered asking whether Potter had an entire morgue of bodies stashed in the innocuous looking cabinets, but decided against it. Some things were best left unknown. Instead, he approached the bodies, avoiding looking at them. They were mercifully placed under a cryo spell, and despite the fact that they had not been dead long, Draco did not much care for the smell of slowly decomposing corpse in the morning.

"I suppose the Marks are real?" he asked warily, not entirely sure whether he wanted to hear the answer.

Harry sighed. He had risen to his feet as well, following Malfoy around his desk, and standing a few paces back to give the man room. "They won't come off if that's any indication, but we haven't tried everything yet – I know you've got more experience in this than me. I was hoping you might be able to tell us. They could just be an extremely well done hoax. Some sort of tattoo crossed with a permanent sticking charm to ruffle the real Death Eaters and flush them out – or a red herring thrown in by the murderer to make us go off track." His tone held the slightest sliver of hope that the case might be that innocuous, but it was clear that he thought their chances of it being so simple were slim. "If so, it's a pretty elaborate ruse. Either that or the victims could just have been a couple of idiots who thought they'd show off stupid tattoos to the wrong people like those kids a while back. It would still mean we have a murderer – vigilante or Death Eater – but it would definitely make the case separate to the Seven."

Draco grunted, reluctant to examine the Marks. He could feel the empty eye sockets of the black skulls staring at him. His skin burned with the relived pain of receiving his own, and he kept his eyes focused but unseeing on the men's faces.

"We're assuming they're wizards," Harry continued. "But we're running their photographs through the Muggle Liaison Office in case Muggle CCTV footage has picked them up anywhere. We're trying to keep all our options open at the moment. The only other case it reminds me of is the Piccadilly incident when we finally caught Mulciber burning the Mark into Muggles."

Draco remembered that case well. Potter had taken him to one of the crime scenes to look at the artefact Mulciber had been using, a torture device used by medieval wizards similar to Muggle branding irons, and the acrid stench of charred flesh had still been thick in the air. He hadn't been able to eat meat for a month.

Draco grunted again. This whole case was already leaving a sour taste in his mouth and a prickle at the back of his neck, and he hadn't even been on it for five minutes. He peered down at the bodies. Apart from the obvious, there were no marks on their bodies indicating how they had died. Not even bruises to mark any sort of a struggle. "How were they killed?"

"Killing Curse – we think. There are no obvious indicators on the bodies beyond the Marks and the letters, so we're going with that until the Magical Forensics Squad can find anything to indicate they died of anything else." Harry ran his hands through his hair, frustrated by the number of unknown variables he was working with. It was like trying to put together a puzzle when all the pieces were blank. "I'm still waiting on the report. They don't know whether the chest incisions were made before or after death – so it's quite possible that they just bled out, but Forensics aren't even sure what spell was used yet."

Draco narrowed his eyes as he glanced at Potter, withholding a remark about departmental efficiency. "When did the murders happen? You should be able to pick up traces of Dark Magic if it was the Killing Curse." He pulled out his wand, passing it over first one then the other and examining the misty emanations that appeared a foot above the bodies.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "The night before last."

Draco shot him a frown, dismissing the mist. Most spells didn't leave magical traces beyond a day or so, but powerful magic like the Unforgivables were different. They were too Dark to fade completely. The spells that would trace their residue after so long were beyond his knowledge, however.

"Why did it take so long to find the bodies?" He couldn't help the snappish bite that made its way into his tone, and gestured at the gory photographs. "They're hardly easy to miss – and the magical signatures from whatever curses were used should have been sending up a flag a mile high."

Potter actually coloured at that, shuffling his feet and coughing slightly. "We didn't actually find them. Some Muggles stumbled across the bodies and called the police." He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly as Draco turned the full force of his disapproving glare on him.

"You obliviated the Muggles who found them, right?"

Harry nodded, glad to have regained ground somewhat. "Yeah. We wiped their memories, and those of the police. Until we know more about what we're dealing with, it's best if we keep it a wizarding matter only. I'd rather not involve the Muggle police if I can help it."

Draco nodded. Letting Muggles know about wizarding criminals was only ever done in extreme circumstances when the Muggles were in severe danger from them – like with the missing Death Eaters. Doing that with this case could potentially send the wizarding community into a panic. At the moment the matter was simply a grisly bit of gossip for the foolish to delight over, thrilling in the scandalousness of it in their ignorance. Which was exactly what Potter wanted, no doubt. Ignorance was bliss.

Harry cleared his throat, straining to appear confident. "Once we're finished with the bodies they'll go back to the Squad. They're still working on establishing a time bracket for the curses used, relative to estimated time of death, and then they'll focus on identifying the spells used. Part of me really hopes they find something to suggest it wasn't the Killing Curse. Unforgivables make the case simpler but…" He sighed.

"Much more dangerous," Draco finished gravely. Only Death Eaters would use an Unforgiveable Curse. Even the angriest average witch or wizard didn't usually have the necessary conviction to cast the Killing Curse. It took more than anger – it required a true desire for death and pleasure in taking the life. He didn't like the sound of those anti-Pureblood groups, however. It was the same way the Death Eaters had begun.

Harry nodded, leaning back against the edge of his desk as Draco returned to his inspection of the bodies. They were naked from the waist up and clean. The letters remained a blackish red against their death-paled skin, the gashes a good two inches wide and the same deep, the edges of the flesh ragged. They were gouges, not cuts. Calling them cuts would indicate some sort of precision and neatness, and neither applied to the gaping furrows that had been ploughed into these men's chests.

"You said a spell was used to make the letters…" Draco focused on not bringing up his breakfast, ruthlessly compartmentalising his emotions, and distancing himself from the gruesome spectacle. "Couldn't it have been a weapon or an appendage?" he flicked his wand, the tip lighting up, and angled the beam into the fleshy channels, peering in.

Harry shook his head. "I know what you're thinking, Malfoy, but we're positive this has nothing to do with any magical creature. They only thought of vampires and things with the other seven because the blood had been drained, and while these two lost a lot of blood, it was all around them – it hadn't been…sucked out, for want of a better word. All their internal organs are still intact, if damaged. No creature did this. We've looked into the other bodies too and it was definitely a spell that exsanguinated them. All the murders are the work of a witch or wizard."

Draco nodded. Whatever curse it had been, it was savage. The gashes weren't particularly deep, but they bypassed muscle and bone with apparent ease so that the rib cages had fallen in, disregarding all considerations of ease or practicality. The wounds felt…raw. Feral, even. He repressed a shudder and turned his gaze to the victim's faces. They were middle aged, stubbly with dark unkempt hair, completely unremarkable to look at. He could pass a dozen such men in the street and never register the presence of any of them for a moment.

He turned back to Potter, shaking his head. "I don't recognise them. Either I never met them, or…" Draco found his eyes drifting unwillingly to the Dark Mark on the nearest cadaver's forearm.

"Or what?" Harry was on his feet again, nerves alight. He could hear the urgency in his voice as he watched Malfoy lean over again. He didn't want to derail Malfoy's thoughts if they might help, but the whole case had them blinking in the dark so far, and there had been something speculative in Malfoy's tone that had his instincts jumping.

Draco examined the Dark Mark in minute detail, before craning his neck to peer at the one on the other body. He muttered something, waving his wand, and staring at the emanations that appeared above each, then stood back, his expression close to cracking. "The Marks are new."

"What?!" Harry almost dropped his wand, gaping, unable to process the declaration for a few moments before his brain dropped back into use, exploding with a blinding array of concerns and questions. He collected himself and moved closer. "What makes you so sure?"

"Look." Draco rolled up his own sleeve, waving his wand over his forearm to reveal the ugly Mark his concealment charm had hidden, putting his arm near that of the closest corpse.

Whereas Draco's magically revealed Dark Mark was a faded shade of grey, having diminished since the moment of Voldemort's death, and remained despite his many attempts to magically remove the brand, the Marks on the corpses were burnt black, raised up, the edges still swollen.

Draco tapped his skin with his wand, the concealment charm rippling back over the Mark, and dropped his sleeve. "The Marks are real. You can test theirs against mine if you don't believe me."

Harry nodded numbly.

Draco frowned. "It makes no sense. The Dark Lord is gone – no one should have new Marks, and putting that to one side, who reformed the Death Eaters? Why hasn't there been any word of it? There should have at least been a whisper – rumours – anything! And why would new initiates be dead after receiving their Marks?"

Harry watched Draco pace on the spot, the Malfoy heir more agitated than he had ever been in their entire time working together.

Draco resisted the urge to screw his hands up into his hair as Potter had done, spinning on the spot, and marshalling his thoughts. "We need to find out whether the Mark was put on them before or after they died. If before, whether they were willing. And we've got to know why in Merlin's name someone's running around doing it six years after the Dark Lord's death. They've got to be wizards – they wouldn't brand a Muggle, and I doubt they'd survive the curse anyway." He hissed slightly, meeting Potter's eyes grimly. "I've only ever seen Him create Dark Marks, Potter."

Harry's blood seemed to stop flowing as the reason for Malfoy's agitation became clear.

Voldemort. Back.

Questions and speculations flooded his mind. What if Voldemort had made another horcrux they hadn't known about? Dumbledore had always seemed to know – seemed to be one step ahead, but what if he'd missed something? What if He was back? He'd done it before.

Harry shook himself. No. He's dead. He died. I killed him. That's over now. Harry turned to regard the bodies for a moment, then shut the drawers with a swish of his wand. Or was it…?

"What spell did he use?"

"Morsmordre." Draco supplied dully.

"But that summons the Dark Mark in the sky, doesn't it?" Harry frowned.

Draco nodded as they sat on either side of the desk once more. "It's possible that someone with sufficient power might be able to use it to create a Mark. But…" Draco shook his head.

Silence filled the office as they remained sunk in their respective thoughts and the weight of the implications of Draco's revelation.

"Is it possible…that He–?" Draco began hesitantly.

Harry stood abruptly shaking his head. "No. Voldemort is dead – all that is done with. We destroyed all his Horcruxes – there are no pieces of his soul left for him to regenerate from. I would know. This is just someone – Death Eaters – trying to scare everyone again. We've dealt with people like this before. We'll do it again. They'll make a mistake – they always do. And then we'll have them."

Draco watched the steely resolve settle in Potter's face in the wake of his denial, and wasn't sure whether it was simply wishful thinking, or the truth.

"Well," Harry said briskly, making for the door. "You'd better get training as soon as possible." He gestured towards the door, and Malfoy got to his feet, preceding him out of the office as he waved his wand at the wall, returning the case information to its hidden state. "I'll get one of the Squad to come up and test your Mark against the victims' later, just to make sure. You can make the time commitment, I hope?"

Draco rolled his eyes as Potter locked his office door. "I wouldn't have signed if I couldn't. My businesses can run on minimal involvement from me for as long as necessary."

"Excellent. Right, well, there's no time like the present to get started."

"I do know how to duel, you know, Potter," Draco drawled.

Harry shrugged, leading the way back through the open plan Auror Offices. "There's no harm in being put through your paces – it's probably been a while since you've had to do any combative magic."

"You don't know what it's like arguing with my mother then," Draco muttered.

Harry chuckled.

Draco allowed a smirk. His expression turned to one of confusion as Potter led him out of the Auror Offices and out into the main corridor of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. "Where are we going?"

The curved hallway was filled with various members of Magical Law Enforcement hurrying in every direction, bent on their tasks, probably sent into a flurry by the morning's murders. Harry let them briskly through the crowd, and Draco kept pace, glancing sideways at him.

A little nervousness had begun to bleed back into Potter's expression. Draco didn't like it. "Potter…" he said warningly.

"The Auror Training Facility," Harry interrupted. "There's no room in our Offices for a proper training field, not with the influx of new Aurors that happened a few years back, despite enlargement charms, so we're down the corridor."

Potter glanced at him, and again there was that anxious flicker in his green eyes.

"I should warn you – you do know some of my department."

Draco rolled his eyes. Was that what was bothering Potter? "Funnily enough, I expected that. What with the fact that we're the same age, and went to school together, and I've worked with you before," he drawled.

"Yes, but not everyone has accepted that you've changed. I am a minority in that regard."

"I'm touched."

Harry held in a sigh. "You're going straight into combat training, Malfoy – and you know your instructor. I just don't know whether she'll welcome your presence, is all. You have…history. You better hope for your sake that she's willing to overlook it. The three of us are going to be working closely together on the case."

Draco cocked an interested eyebrow. "She?"

Harry frowned and pursed his lips. "You'll find out soon enough," he muttered grimly.

Draco smirked to himself. It the instructor was a woman it would be a doddle. He didn't know what Potter was worrying about. He might have restored respect to his family name, but he wasn't a hermit. He was fairly sure he had recently been named Witch Weekly's most eligible bachelor for the third time in a row – a sure sign that he had restored credibility to himself, if not his family name, amongst witches if not wizards. A woman would play easily into his hands, whatever their history together might be. The number of spurned girlfriends he'd had who had come grovelling back to him for more defied count; not that he'd ever accepted their offers. Snivelling was not an attractive personality trait, and nor was begging.

"Here we are." Harry opened a door and led them through, grinning as he regarded his once-enemy's astonished face. "You'll be able to enter here yourself now that you've signed the contract. It takes special clearance to get through the door."

Draco nodded mutely. The room was massive, and blindingly white. Beneath the curved hemispherical ceiling, six arenas had been set up inside massive depressions, the two rows taking up the majority of the cavernous space. The little moving specks of groups of trainee Aurors could be seen in the sunken pits, some being taught concealment and disguise, others duelling, others stealth and tracking. They stood at the top of a massive staircase, overlooking the vast space, the walls sloping down to the recessed arenas. Level with them to left and right the walls were perforated with doors that presumably led to classrooms. A run around the perimeter would be tiring.

"Come on, Malfoy," Harry chuckled, leading him down the staircase. "You'll be starting in the combat arena – it's kind of the next step up from ordered duelling; it'll help you anticipate fighting in difficult terrains. It's supposed to force trainees to think more creatively in difficult situations; the worst thing in a fight is being hampered by an inability to adapt."

They cleared the staircase and walked along the white plateau between the pits, and Harry veered right at the nearest one, disappearing into a hole near the edge that revealed itself on closer inspection to be the top of a narrow spiral staircase, also white.

Draco followed Potter down, and they stopped together at the bottom.

The true size of the arenas only became apparent once you were inside them, and Draco guessed that it could easily have held a Quidditch pitch. Nearby, however, a group of trainees sat and stood on and around benches, clearly waiting for their instructor to arrive. Some were stretching or practicing their moves, waving their wands and mouthing words, others chatted.

They were all dressed in an extremely strange fashion, both men and women in sleeveless, form-fitting black clothes that looked like they had been painted on, and which were extremely inappropriate by wizarding standards and left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Their singlets, if they could be called that, seemed to follow some sort of colour-coding system that Draco could not divine, as there was no apparent pattern to who wore deep purple, burgundy, white, or dark olive.

Must be Muggle clothing, Draco mused, if it can be called clothing. The men looked plain ridiculous. The women however were quite easy on the eye. He evaluated a few, their figures plainly revealed in the tight gear. Perhaps this training thing wouldn't be so bad after all.

"So, who's this terrifying instructor then?" he asked nonchalantly. "Not McGonagall, I hope." He smirked.

Harry snorted. "Not quite." He glanced over his shoulder towards the far end of the arena as the door the office there opened. "That's her."

Draco turned his eyes on the figure. At this distance her face was difficult to make out, but she seemed to have a mane of curly hair pulled back in a ponytail, and he could appreciate her figure as she marched towards them clad all in black with slashes of burgundy across her thighs. Apparently the colour system was linked to discipline. She seemed closer in age to him than her students, and her figure was more womanly, drawing his eye along its curves.

The trainees all leapt to their feet as she approached, shuffling into a line.

Harry glanced at Draco with a nervous expression, and caught the man's assessing eyes, and the slight smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. It wasn't hard to figure out what he was thinking. "Just a suggestion, Malfoy – don't let her know your mind went there."

Draco glanced at Potter, eyebrows raised.

"She won't appreciate it."

Draco snorted, rolling his eyes, and was about to make a comment about how all women appreciated his appreciation, when a very familiar voice interrupted him, striking what could only accurately be described as the fear of god into his heart.

"Harry? What's Malfoy doing here?"

Draco slowly swivelled towards the woman. She was close enough now for them to recognise each other, and Draco cringed internally at the thoughts that had been running through his head mere seconds before. He cleared his throat. "Granger. How nice to see you."


WE GOT A GLIMPSE OF HERMIONE! A GLIMPSE!
Don't worry, she's in the next chapter properly.

So. Whaddya think of Draco's revelation? Is Voldemort back or isn't he? *grins slyly*
Again, I hope the case details and speculations weren't too convoluted or anything. I really tried hard to make them not be.

And yes, the Auror recruits are wearing lycra. And yes, Draco most definitely did check out Hermione before he realised who she was. XDDDD

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! :D

Please do review and/or favourite :) Tell me what you like or don't like :) Questions and speculations are always welcome :D As is incomprehensible flailing if that's what you go in for :)

If you want to get access to sneak previews to chapters before they're posted, you can like me on Facebook (JZJ Tomkins) or follow me on Twitter ( jtomkinsauthor) or Tumblr (jzj-tomkins):)