May 6th – 1999.
Arthur woke in a cold sweat from dreams he prayed were not his own. He blinked away the terrible visions of blood and fire. His breath came in ragged heaves.
He took a moment to steady himself. He felt his heartrate return to something that could be called normal.
Arthur twisted in the uncomfortable chair to look at his darkened surroundings. He was still safely entrenched in his hide. He checked his watch.
01:37
Through the attic window, 31 Court Road sat silent and empty. Just as it had all day. The only light which leaked through the glass was the uneven orange glow of the streetlamps.
Arthur checked his surveillance equipment. Though his eyes had shut, the cameras had kept recording. The only movement he saw on the playback was the uneven shadow of the trees and the brisk gait of a dogwalker.
Arthur stretched out the knots in his muscles and rubbed his eyes. Neither eased the accumulated tension of the hours he had spent watching.
Paul Hunter's voice echoed in his mind.
"Watch until you're absolutely bloody sure that no one's home…then you give it another two hours."
Arthur had given it three. He liked to be thorough.
The Muggles to whom the house across from 31 Court Road belonged were on their honeymoon. Arthur guessed that they had been married for twenty years but it was the best thing he could think to whisper in their ear after he'd cast the Confundus Charm on them.
Even as Arthur snuck his surveillance equipment through the back garden, the Muggles hadn't given him a second glance as they packed up.
As he set up, the Muggles tittering had annoyed him, but once they had left there was nothing but empty silence to keep him company. Empty silence and bad memories.
Memories of nights spent huddled under bushes with a camera clutched in one hand and a wand in the other. Memories of spending endless hours peering through the scope of a long-range lens and wishing it were the scope of a rifle. Memories of sore eyes and the whirring of tapes and the endless screens of other people's lives.
The many memories of Arthur Grimm.
"You've got a knack for this thing Arthur."
The illusion of Paul Hunter's voice sounded again. Arthur pushed it away. There were bad memories and then there were worse memories.
Arthur crept out of the attic and slunk through the abandoned house. He pushed open the front door and glanced left-and-right as he crossed the street.
Somewhere, a dog barked furiously into the night and the wind rustled through the damp trees.
31 Court Road loomed before him.
Arthur walked straight to the door and knocked. He strained his ears. Nothing stirred.
Arthur went around the block. He counted the windows and then swung himself over the back fence. He hit the soft ground. His boots squelched in the mud. The garden was weedy and overgrown.
Using the shadows, Arthur crossed the lawn. The quiet was oppressive now. Even the dog had ceased its barking. He put his ear to the back door.
Arthur pointed his wand at the lock. He hesitated. Then he decided to just pick it the old-fashioned way. The Muggle way. Arthur had Counter-Curses on his own doors, why wouldn't Liall Newton?
The lock gave way.
Arthur held his breath.
He opened the door.
"Lumos."
Arthur held up his wand. The pale light fell across the filthy kitchen. Unwashed dishes were piled high in the sink. A layer of grime had accumulated on the countertops. The bin clearly hadn't been emptied in at least a month.
Arthur carefully stuck his head into the hallway. It was no better than the kitchen. Open draws and random debris littered the tiny space. Unopened mail had been pushed through the letter box. He stepped over them as if they were landmines.
The stairs climbed upwards into inky blackness.
Arthur picked up a stray shoe. He tossed it up the stairs. It landed with a thud. Arthur backed into a corner until he was certain he was encased in shadow. For a moment, the silence returned. Then a figure crept from the sitting room into the hallway.
Arthur raised his wand.
The figure seemed to twitch.
"STUPEFY!"
"CRUCIO!"
Red light exploded through the darkness. Glass shattered. Arthur flung himself into the sitting room. Both curses had gone wide. He crouched behind a moth-eaten sofa. He stuck his left hand into his pocket. His right gripped his wand.
He could hear uneven footsteps at the edge of the room.
Arthur launched himself to his feet.
"AVADA-"
The gunshot lit the room. Liall Newton's mouth was half open. Instead of finishing the spell he let loose a scream of pain and instinctively clutched at the red hole in his knee.
"EXPELLIARMUS!"
Newton's wand flew from his hand into the corners of the room.
Arthur's heart was pounding in his ears.
The pistol, a 38. Special, still smoked in his left hand.
Newton had collapsed in a tangle of limbs and blood. In desperation, he backed away from Arthur's outstretched wand. He left a red smear on the carpet. Newton hit the wall and raised his shaking hands into the air. Arthur kept both the wand and the handgun trained on him.
Close up, Arthur could see his dark tattoos, matted hair and wild eyes. Arthur looked into the madness and spoke a single word, "Battersea."
Newton opened his mouth and a strangled gulp came out. Arthur realised it was a laugh.
"No idea."
Arthur stared harder, "Don't make this more difficult than it has to be."
Newton waved his arms in front of his face as if swatting at a ghost. Then he bared his teeth and cackled, "Oh look at the big man! Going to scramble my brains? Oh wait! You can't use Legilimency anymore!"
Arthur stepped over him, "Says who?"
Newton squealed, "Ministry themselves!"
Arthur leaned down, "I don't see the Ministry here."
Newton made a sort of gurgling in his throat.
Arthur sighed, "But you're lucky, I think that tonight I'm leaning towards the Muggle way of doing things."
Arthur put his wand in one pocket and the pistol in the other. He put on his gloves and took the ballpen hammer from his belt.
"Have you heard of the Yorkshire Ripper Mr Newton?"
Newton's head bobbed on his shoulder, "Why would I hear anything about Muggles? They're all just animals anyway."
Arthur went across the room and closed the curtains. He wasn't worried about the noise Newton would make. The Muffliato Charm the Death Eater had cast meant that even the crack of the gunshot wouldn't have escaped the room.
"He used to kill people. Hit them over the head with a hammer. A hammer just like this one. Then he'd cut them up. He used to do it slow. Used to make them feel every cut."
Arthur walked back towards Newton's crumpled form.
"One can only imagine what they told him before they died. Just like I wonder what you're going to tell me."
"Nothing!" Newton sang, "Nothing. Nothing. Nothing!"
"I think we'll see about that."
Arthur raised the hammer but Newton surged towards him. Arthur lashed out and connected with something hard. Newton staggered backwards. Blood poured from the side of his head. Newton looked at Arthur with unfocussed eyes. Arthur looked down. He saw the gun sitting awkwardly in Newton's hand. Newton levelled the gun at him.
Arthur raised his wand and smiled.
"Come now. You can't honestly think I'd carry a firearm without knowing an appropriate defence?"
Newton recklessly waved the gun around, "Only one way to find out."
The tip of Arthur's wand glowed, "I'll tell you what's going to happen. Once you pull that trigger that bullet's going to stop in mid-air. Then, with my life having been placed in imminent danger, I'm going to use any curse I see fit on you. Can you guess what I'm going to start with?"
Newton faltered, "I'm not going back to Azkaban."
Arthur took a half-step towards him, "You don't have a choice."
Newton's eyes finally met his own, "Yes I do."
Newton placed the barrel underneath his chin.
"EXPE-"
Newton pulled the trigger.
The blast sheared Newton's face off and plastered the insides of his skull to the ceiling. The gun clattered across the floor.
Arthur swore.
He bent over the body.
He had to make this look right.
He pointed his wand at the wound in Newton's leg and muttered incantations. Though the man to whom it belonged to was very dead, the flesh gradually mended itself until a dented projectile was expelled from the hole and the wound sealed itself shut.
In turn, Arthur picked up the gun and the hammer with the sleeve of his coat. He wiped the handles clean. The hammer he stashed at his belt, the gun he placed in Newton's stiff fingers.
A loud knock sounded on the door. Arthur swore more viscously. The Muffliato Charm had clearly broken the instant Newton had died.
He peered through the curtains. Flashing blue lights lit up the street. The knocking came again.
Arthur opened the door.
A grumpy police officer stared back at him.
"Evening Officer. Is there anything I can do for you?"
"You setting off bloody fireworks in there or something? Woke up half of bloody London with your racket."
"Sorry sir. It won't happen again."
The police officer was not deterred.
"Well I've got to take a bloody look around now don't I?"
Arthur's hand went back to his pocket, "Really Officer? We'll keep it down."
"This'll go quicker if you step aside."
Arthur gritted his teeth. The police officer stepped into the hallway. The officer surveyed the mess.
"You going on holiday or something?"
Arthur tried not to hold his breath, "Moving actually."
The police officer took a step towards the sitting room, "Yeah well…bloody hell!"
"Imperio!"
Instantly, an unnatural warmth shot down Arthur's arm. The police officer's face went slack.
"You're feeling ill and need to get home. You will wake up with a splitting headache and memories of a night on the pub. You never saw me and you never saw him." Arthur jerked a finger towards the sitting room.
The police officer nodded and drifted out the doorway. Seconds later, the sounds of tyre crunching on concrete could be heard as the car pulled away.
Arthur dared to breathe a sigh of relief.
He went back into the sitting room.
Gawain Robards stood amid the carnage.
His jaw seemed to be wedged open.
He finally spoke.
"Good God."
