The rain beat the grass down as pools of water formed in small unseen indents in the ground, drenching the two aurors as soon as they stepped into the yard. Beyond a wrought iron gate, sat a quaint cottage with a neatly sloping roof, long dead flowers wilted and crumbled in the forceful rain, drapes were pulled closed tightly behind large glass windows, leaving the pair to wonder why they had been called out in the first place. Nothing seemed amiss about the house, there were no strange noises, no strange lights like the report had mentioned.
Sighing, Alice pushed on the gate to see if it would open. With a groan the metal slowly moved allowing her and Albus entrance to the yard beyond. Neither said anything as they made their way to the door, wands at the ready in case there was danger. Though she doubted they would find anything of interest within the confines of the gated home.
"I think this is another one of those tests your dad keeps giving us," Alice said softly as they knocked on the front door.
"You think?" Albus groaned and listened intently for any sound within the cottage. "If he keeps setting us up like this..."
"Shh, did you hear that?" Alice nodded her head to the left window. "There's someone inside."
"It's probably dad," he answered, but decided to check it out all the same. "Alohomora!"
The lock clicked and the door slowly opened granting the two aurors access to the cottage. A musty musky smell hit them first, as if the windows had been sealed to keep fresh air out. Thick dust coated the floor and furniture as they stopped in the doorway. There were footprints with a fresh layer of dust. Alice let Albus take the lead, he was the strong spell caster and he was one year her senior. Allowing him to take all the risk wasn't how she saw things, it was a matter of trust, and Albus trusted her to watch his back.
The floor creaked as they slowly made their way to the doorway to their left which lead into a small dining room. A small oak table sat in the middle of the room with six place settings, but there was no evidence of it having ever been used. Albus signalled for her to take the doorway that lead into the kitchen while he searched the living room.
Nodding, Alice made her way across the dining room. A tiny mouse scooted past her as she narrowly missed crushing it. Once in the kitchen she found more dust covering the appliances. Rather than dare open the refridgerator, she continued to do a quick sweep of the room. There were more than enough places for a culprit to hide. Checking behind the small island counters in the center of the room, and under the table, Alice felt she was alone in the room. She didn't stop her search however. She flung open the pantry door to ensure no one was hiding within.
When she was finally satisfied that the kitchen was empty, she followed her footprints back into the hallway and towards Albus. He would have called to her had he found anything. Instead she found him standing between the support beams of the door blocking her from entering.
"You do not want to go in there," he said and she realized his voice was an octave higher than it normally was.
"I can't do my job if you're protecting me from seeing something bothersome," Alice retorted and pushed passed him.
Instantly the colour in her face drained as she scanned the room. A large glowing violet pentagram surrounded candles and skulls within. It was the body in the center of the room that made Alice's stomach roll and tighten. Long brown hair was matted with speckles of blood and flowed over the obsidian alter the corpse laid on. Blood pooled around the woman's body from various slash marks that looked as though they were methodically placed.
"I know her," Alice said softly and turned away, "Cassandra Thomas, I went to Hogwarts with her."
"I warned you not to go in," Albus said placing a hand on her shoulder. "I've sent word to dad, he'll be here shortly."
"I really wish this was a practical joke, that she'd wake up. Cassie was a good friend. She helped me through so much in school."
Closing her eyes, Alice forced back tears that began to burn her eyes. There was absolutely no room for her to become emotional. Cassandra had been her friend and she was going to find justice for her, no matter what it took. Steeling her nerves, she turned back towards the room and began a preliminary walkthrough. Ignoring Albus's concerned looks; she kneeled just outside the pentagram and looked for some sign or clue that would help them.
Although the blood had pooled around the base of the alter, Alice realized it was dry. The musk they had smelled when they first entered the house, she found, was from one of the candles. Placing her finger on the wicks of each, Alice learned they were cold. Had the killer been startled from cleaning up, or was this some part of his plan? Each of the ritualistic items were easily bought in Diagon Alley or muggle London. Any Wiccan shop would carry the supplies that the killer had used, but this was no usual murder. The victim was her friend, a witch, who would have been able to defend herself against an attacker.
"Do you see her wand?" Alice questioned and took another cursory look around the room.
"No," Albus replied, "it could be in the bedroom upstairs."
"No it wouldn't be; Cassandra always had it on her. She was paranoid, Albus. She became a recluse after..." Alice stopped when she caught the sight of a shadow in the hallway. Drawing her wand, she pointed it at the door and waited.
"Albus, Alice?" Harry called before he entered and found the couple.
"Mr. Potter," Alice said and lowered her wand.
She watched him as he surveyed the scene, she could almost picture the cogs within his brain turning as he took in the way the room looked, smelled and sounded. At first she wondered if he was going to kick them off the case, they had never had the chance to work an actual crime scene. They had been trained for it, they knew what to look for to solve crimes as dastardly as the one they now faced, but they had always been given the least important cases.
"You were right to send me a message. Ron's on his way with extra help."
"We want this case, Dad," Albus said, his voice hard and emotionless. "It's ours to begin with. We deserve the chance to prove we can handle this sort of crime."
Alice said nothing rather than get in the middle of an argument she was sure would arise. Albus had been pushing Harry for months about the petty crimes they were stuck handling. More often than not her partner accused his father of trying too hard to protect them from the monsters of the Wizarding world. There was no denying now that the monsters had found them when they were sent out to check on a small noise disturbance.
Silently she walked around the room for the third time, trying to figure out what she was missing. The murder weapon lay neatly in Cassandra's open hand. There was definitely something odd about the scene that Alice knew there was a lot they were going to learn from it.
"Why does it look like this?" She mused, and turned to look at Harry and Albus who had stopped arguing for the moment. "What?"
"You have this look on your face, like you know something we don't," Albus said and walked over to her. "What are you thinking?"
"That I don't know a single witch or wizard who would go to this much trouble to kill someone. That I've never read about a single ritualistic killing that looks like this. It's almost like the killer was trying to summon something or someone to the pentagram," Alice explained, but she had no evidence to back up her theory.
"You think its coincidence that the victim happens to be a witch?" Harry said.
"It's possible, but I don't believe in coincidence, Mr Potter," Alice replied.
Fred was sitting at his desk with Dominique sitting in front of it, neither of them saying anything as they worked tirelessly on their new articles. It hadn't surprised Fred when Dominique had been given yet another hefty and exciting article that had her spending most of her day out of the office, while he had to write another story on how the current Minister of Magic had been seen wandering aimlessly around downtown London with a pretty little blond on his arm and looking quite dishevelled.
Slowly his quill worked its way down the parchment until he was satisfied that he had completely ruined the Minister's chances of re-election, which would likely lead to Fred's dismissal from the Prophet. Though Dominique would tell him he had done an excellent job telling the truth, he knew upon his second draft that he had better paint the Minister in a better fashion than a no good philanderer if he wanted to keep his job.
Passing his parchment over to Dominique, he waited to hear her input on his article. She may not have been his boss or their editor, but her opinion mattered to him. He knew, above all else, Dominique would tell him the truth about his article. If it was rubbish he would know because she had a weird way of wrinkling her face when his sentences made no sense or he was too obscure. Of course, he had never expected her to laugh out right when she read through this particular article. He hadn't added anything humorous into it. He reported the truth, regardless of how much trouble he was going to get into.
"Freddie, you're going to get fired with this piece," she said softly and scribbled notes onto the margin of his article. "If you fix these lines, make the Minister of Magic look like a good guy, maybe you'll keep your job. We aren't the Quibbler. We're not a tabloid."
"I'm only reporting the truth Dom," Fred defended his piece.
"I get that, really I do. But if you want to play in the big league with me, then you need to keep the Minister of Magic on your side, at least until Uncle Percy runs next term."
"He's been running for the last four years, Dominique, I don't think Uncle Percy is going to actually win this year. Not unless something big happens."
"You never know," Dominique shrugged. "I have a date to get ready for, I'll see you tomorrow to read over your second draft."
"Have fun tonight," Fred said and set to work editing his article.
He knew Dominique was right. He had known she would critique his article and he was grateful for it, but the truth was he hated his job. How was he supposed to be unbiased about a topic he hated more than hinkypunks? If his Uncle would only win the elections then he knew he might actually see a promotion. Ever since Percy Weasley had declared himself the new up and coming Minister of Magic four years ago and began his campaign, Fred had been seen as a lesser reporter. So long as the current Minister of Magic hated the Weasley family, he knew he'd be stuck on the dead end position forever.
"Weasley," his editor, Tessa Maloney said walking up behind him. "Where'd Dominique disappear to?"
"You just missed her, she left for the night," Fred explained and waited for his editor to leave.
"I need someone to cover this, when it breaks I want us to be the one covering it, not the Quibbler," she said coldly.
"I'll do it," Fred said, hopeful that she might actually give him a chance, though in the pit of his stomach he doubted she would.
"You have absolutely no experience with high profile cases, Weasley. I need Dominique on this one."
"How about Dom and I work on it together? That way, I can get all the prelim information and it'll give me some experience. Between the two of us I'm sure we can come up with an amazing article."
"Fine, but don't expect me to show you any leniency. Dominique knows what to expect with this sort of -" She trailed off as if by some means she was giving him too much of a chance. "Just get Dominique and the two of you are to head to the address on the parchment. If Dominique isn't with you consider yourself out of a job."
Nodding, Fred pushed out of his chair so fast it toppled to the floor with a heavy thud. Ignoring the scowl Maloney had on her face, he dashed out of the office heading for the fireplaces to Floo to Dominique's place. She was not going to be happy that he was going to ruin her date, but there was nothing he could do. It was the first chance he had ever been given to show himself as a true reporter, and he was not going to screw it up. Dominique would have dropped everything in the first place, he knew, had she been there when Maloney needed her.
When he appeared in the living room of Dom's flat, he looked around hoping to find her. At first he saw thought she wasn't home, but when he heard the running water of a shower he knew she was getting ready. Sighing, he walked over to the bathroom door and pounded on it.
"Dominique!" he called through the wooden door. "Dom we need to talk."
"Damn it Fred!" she cursed and turned off the water.
He could hear her wrapping a towel around her body moments before the door flung open. Her face was red from the heat of the water, her blond hair fell like wet string resting on her shoulders, but it was her eyes that made him wince. Her blue eyes were furious that he had the gull to come to her flat and ruin her evening.
"I'm sorry," he said, almost childlike. "Maloney swears if I want to keep my job I have to get you to come with me."
She held her hand out expectantly waiting for him to put the parchment he clutched in hers. Slowly and reluctantly he did. He watched her carefully as she read over the job they had to complete together. A smile curled over her lips and he knew she had given in. Her date would be cancelled and they would head to the address of Cassandra Thomas where Aurors were investigating a possible homicide.
"Good work, Freddie. We'll get you promoted yet," She said and walked off to get dressed. "Give me five minutes to cancel my date and get ready. This is going to be amazing!"