Chapter Seventeen: Longstreet

'Mangled?' Castor said standing up, his coffee and cigarettes forgotten. 'Mangled?'

'Yep,' Longsteet replied, as if talking about the weather.

'Jim,' Castor said throwing on his coat, 'mangled is what happens when you piss off a tiger.'

'Well,' Longstreet said, 'Looks like she don an pissed off Toney reals good.'

'Where?' Harry asked abruptly. He couldn't believe it. Narcissa Malfoy, Draco's mother, Bellatrix's sister and wife of Lucius Malfoy.

Mangled to death.

'Malfoy Manor.'

'Who's got the case?' Castor asked pocketing his wand.

Longstreet grinned.

'Me.'

'You?'

'Das wha I jus said, ain't it?'

'Jim' Castor started impatiently, 'Why you?'

Five minutes later, Harry, Castor and Longstreet were making their way down a dirt path in the middle of a forest, a small brook ran parallel with the path they were walking. It was cold and eerily quiet as they continued on, snow falling slowly to the ground but Harry by now was used to strange things in Castor's presence and didn't bother to ask why they were walking in the middle of no where. Another five minutes passed until suddenly, after a sharp turn, they were in a clearing.

'Whoa,' was all Harry could say.

One hundred yards in front of them was an enormous mansion of dark brown mosaic stone. Gothic style black towers loomed above it ominously. To the rear of the house was a separate building the size of Privet #4. Behind that, at the base of the stream were stables. The front gates were adorned with a twenty foot marble statue of a snake wrapped around the top beam. Two Aurors stood right beyond it, both looking incredibly tired as Longstreet strode up to them.

'Ge morning,' he said cheerily.

One of the Aurors spat on the snow covered ground.

'What's so good about it?'

Longstreet grinned and pulled out a badge.

'James Longstreet,' he said flashing the piece of metal. 'I'm headin dis 'ere investigation.'

'And these two?' the other asked.

Without another word Longstreet passed them, calling over his shoulder.

'You jus mind da gate.'

Castor pushed Harry in the back and they too passed the Aurors without looking up.

'Head down, Potter,' Castor whispered. 'I prefer no one recognizes you until you're in.'

'Why?' Harry asked quickening his pace.

Castor grunted.

'Press ain't allowed inside.'

Sure enough, standing in front of a pair of massive velvet colored oak doors were dozens of reporters, flashing photos at Longstreet and two more Aurors blocking the entrance. Longstreet breezed past the reporters and was allowed in without hesitation. Harry took this as a sign that although the American was dressed like an asshole and spoke with an accent barely understandable, people knew him. Harry chanced a glance at the Aurors blocking the door. They looked more like body builders, wands held firmly in their hands. The message was abundantly clear.

No one in but us.

Once inside, Harry looked up. He was standing in an enormous living room, the ceiling over twenty feet high. To his left and right were long hallways lined with several doors leading off to other rooms. To the back of the living room was a magnificent marble fireplace and five large black leather armchairs facing each other, surrounding a coffee table made entirely out of silver Harry guessed. Paintings and strange foreign artifacts lined the walls, an immaculate Grandfather clock stood in a corner. Harry felt the hairs on his neck stand up. The place was the most luxurious and pristine spot Harry had ever been to, and yet at the same time the most desolate. There was no sound but the shouts of the reporters outside and footsteps on the wooden floorboards as Aurors prowled the several floors going over each inch of the frosted palace with a fine tooth and comb.

Above the fireplace was a painting of the Malfoys; Lucius, Narcissa and Draco. Harry thought it was a muggle painting until the side of Mr. Malfoy's mouth twitched, and his brow narrowed, sending a trademark feature of someone very full of themselves.

'Lifestyles of the rich and merciless,' Castor said dropping his cigarette and stomping it out of the plush oriental carpet. Harry didn't blame Castor at all this time for his cynical attitude and brash behavior. Lucius Malfoy had killed his friend Marcus, and was a well known Death Eater, two traits that everyone knew in the wizarding world Castor despised with every inch of his soul. Without warning, the silence in the room was ruptured by an earsplitting cry.

'JESUS CHRIST!' Longstreet suddenly shouted from the fireplace.

Harry spun around. Longstreet had turned his back on a very peculiar looking short overweight wizard with a fat head, no neck and rumpled up robes of a dark remote grey; standing near an overturned armchair facing the fireplace, his face twisted in nausea and concentration.

'Take a look Demy,' Longstreet said meekly covering his mouth his hand, 'but fair warnin', it ain't pretty, an' it smells fuckin' worse.'

Castor slowly walked towards the wizard in grey robes who was now standing at full height, barely reaching Castor's shoulder and wiping sweat from his profound forehead though it was freezing inside the deserted manor. Harry moved around Castor but when the image of what the grey robed wizard was working on, he wished he hadn't, and immediately felt sick.

In a pool of crimson blood, bent in a horrifying ninety-degree angle, as though she had been broken in half lay Narcissa Malfoy, her light blue eyes now a ghostly white, staring lifelessly at the painting above her. Harry had to look away at the sight of long slashes cut along her face and torso, her legs riddled with golf ball sized marks and dried purple blood. One of her ears looked like it had been ripped off and her shoulder appeared to have been hacked with a dull sword. The wizard in grey took a deep controlling breath and shook his head helplessly.

'Fifteen years doing this shit,' he wheezed, 'and I've never seen anyone look that dead.'

Harry looked down at the face of Narcissa Malfoy, then back up at Longstreet and Castor who were lighting cigarettes, Longstreet lighting two, then passing one to the fat wizard who coughed up chunk of phlegm in thanks.

'Who would want to kill her?' Harry asked.

Castor blew out a ring of smoke.

'I can name a hundred people off the top of my head who'd want to do somethin' like this.'

Longstreet nodded in agreement then turned to face his old friend.

'You wanna dem Demy?'

Castor nodded without hesitation, his eyes staring at Narcissa Malfoy showing no remorse or feeling.

'Top five,' he said.

At that moment the front door opened and closed so quickly Harry barely had time to register the new member in the group. He was an Auror, and judging by the looks of him, he had seen his fair share of action. He had a neatly trimmed beard and short cropped red hair with cold eyes. A long slash began around his nostrils and went straight down his mouth to the middle of his throat. He walked confidently towards his superior.

'I'm Jackson sir,' he said to Longstreet. 'Robert Jackson. I was the first one here.'

Longstreet nodded to the man.

'Wha' do ya got?'

'She's dead sir.'

Longstreet snorted.

'Well thanks fo' dat, Mr. Jackson,' he said lamely. 'Any other keen observations you wanna tell me?'

The Auror went on unfazed.

'It's a goddamn Cluster fuck,' Jackson said angrily. 'No signs of break in, no tracks outside, and no sign of a struggle.'

'Apparation signs?' Longstreet asked.

Another Auror walked in from a side room leading towards the kitchen.

'Can't for a mile around the whole foundation,' he said. 'Floo network is caught off and has been since ol' Lucius got busted at the Department of Mysteries. Whoever did this came in from where you guys were. This was a walk in job. Probably happened bout midnight last night judging by the state of the blood and what Phelps here tells us.'

For the first time, the Aurors along with the gruff and plump wizard known as Phelps looked at Longstreet, Castor, then finally to Harry and their eyes went wide.

'Ain't you Harry Potter?' the redhead Auror asked sternly. 'Fuck you doin here?

'Enough of 'dat,' Longstreet said firmly. 'You didn't see him.'

The redhead looked at Longstreet then at Castor, who was smirking. Harry simply stood, not knowing whether to leave or get involved. Castor had told him to come after all, but to what purpose he still didn't know. After a few awkward seconds, Longstreet bent down next to the body, Castor by his side, and Harry peering over their shoulders, looking at the marks on her legs.

'What do you reckon Demy?' Longstreet said, his cigarette moving up and down between his lips.

Castor leaned closer to the body and sniffed.

'The Diffindo Curse could have done this,' he said. 'But there's too much blood loss.'

'Maybe it hit an artery?' Jackson said.

'Naw,' Longstreet said shaking his head. 'That would explain the amount of blood, but it wouldn't explain da color. Blood only turn dis shade o' red when da liver is punctured. Diffindo Curse could nod of done dis alone. Somethin' else made dis blood turn purple.'

'Unlikely anyways,' Castor continued. 'And it doesn't explain the marks on her legs.'

There was a moment pause, Harry watching the group of Aurors looking down at the body of Narcissa Malfoy with interest, examining every inch of her. At that moment, Harry was considering another career move if he was going to be subjected to this on a day to day basis.

'Looks like she was shot,' said the redheaded Auor named Jackson. The other Auror half turned and looked at his partner.

'How do you know that?'

Jackson shrugged. 'My pops was a muggle cop. He used to show me pictures and shit of muggle homicide scenes. Me being at Hogwarts all the time, we didn't get much time to bond and all that. He figured showing me what he did for a living would help me out in Auror training. Kindof did in a way.'

'Remind me never to ask anything about your childhood again,' the Auror said sarcastically.

Longstreet and Castor looked at each other than at the fat wizard, now smoking the end of the cigarette like his life depended on it.

'Mr. Phelps is it?' Castor said looking at him.

'Yes, sir,' the fat man answered.

Longstreet gestured at him then down at the body.

'Up with her leg Phelps,' he drawled.

Phelps hunched his shoulders and bent down, he knees cracking, his gut tumbling a bit as he dropped to one knee. With both hands he lifted the right leg, the leg itself making a sucking sound as it separated from its companion, a good piece of blood oozing off from where her knee cap curved. Phelps swallowed loudly.

'Don't puke on da bitch, Winston,' Longstreet said and he lowered himself all the way to the floor and inspected the back of the leg.

'Couple long an' thin cuts,' he said after a moment, 'but no exit wounds or powder residue. Looks like nail marks to me, like she waz scratched by somethin.'

'Wait a sec,' Harry said. Everyone froze and turned on him, almost forgetting he was there. Harry was startled by their gaze but he continued. 'If there was no sign of break in, and whoever did this couldn't have Apparated, then, well, Malfoy knew her killer.'

The Aurors looked up and nodded.

'Probably,' one said. 'But judging by the type of people she associated herself with, that really doesn't help us does it boy? And what the fuck are you doin' here again? Come on sir,' he said turning towards Longstreet, 'this boy being here is completely unethical.'

'Shut it Jackson,' Longstreet said coolly, 'Or you're dismissed.'

The Auror glared at Longstreet but said nothing else.

'Anything missing?' Longstreet asked breaking the silence.

Jackson shrugged.

'Not sure yet. Arthur Weasley is going to get here in the afternoon with a list. Apparently he did some work on this place a year or so back checking out for any illegal dark items in this place. Til then, your guess is as good as mine.'

'How'd Weasley take the news Narcissa Malfoy was killed?' Castor asked the Auror.

Jackson smirked.

'I swear I could hear a champagne cork being popped.'

'So we got nothing!' Longstreet said angrily. 'We got a dead rich bitch wit' no leads, a thousand an' one suspects includin' you Demy an' my dick in my hand. Well, its not gonna be in my hand when Shaklebolt finds out. More like on the floor bein' hit wit' a shovel.'

Longstreet kicked a nearby chair while loosening his tie and pulling out another cigarette and pointing it at the two Aurors.

'I wan' a complete list of everyting in dis house. I wan' to know where Mrs. Malfoy waz goin' to and comin' from dis pas' month and bring in dat' fuck Borgin fo' questioning. If he don't wants to comply, you have full authority to bring him in by his fuckin toes, and I don't care if theys not still attached to his feet!'

The Auror Harry didn't know the name of looked at Jackson.

'I'll go,' he said pulling out his wand. 'You stay here until the press is gone.'

'I'll walk you out,' Jackson said, Harry guessing the Auror didn't want to be in Longstreet's presence any longer than he had to, leading his partner through the front door, leaving Longstreet, Castor and Harry alone with Phelps.

'Need me for anything else?' the fat man asked now putting more room between him, Longstreet and Malfoy, his watery eyes now on the door.

Longstreet shook his head as Harry looked down at the legs again. There was something familiar about those markings. It vaguely reminded him of a time when Aunt Marge's pit bull had bitten him when he was eight. Then, it clicked.

'When was the last full moon?' he asked.

Castor looked up.

'What?'

'The last full moon,' Harry said again. 'When was it?'

'Las' nigh,' Longstreet said, 'So the fuck-'

He paused and looked at Harry.

'Professor Lupin was at dinner last night,' he said suddenly. 'He didn't look great but-'

'I know where you're going with this, Potter,' Castor said coldly. 'Lupin got hold of the Wolfsbane Draught, so his transformation wasn't that bad. The second he left that table, he was upstairs in a spare room.'

'I don't think Lupin did this,' Harry said impatiently, 'but I do think a werewolf did.'

'Az werewolf did dis?' Longstreet said incredulously. 'Why da fuck woulda werewolf wan' to tear up Malfoy?'

The medi-wizard peered down at the body once more.

'It's been awhile since I've seen a werewolf victim,' he said professionally, 'but a werewolf could have done this. The marks on the legs could be-'

'Bite marks,' said a new voice from behind them. Harry turned around and gazed at a familiar wizard standing at the front door. It had been over two years since Harry had last seen him and he looked, in Harry's opinion, a lot worse. His hair was trickled with grey, his face more sallow and he looked much thinner. The wizard was Amos Diggory, the father of Cedric Diggory, and he was holding an ivory white wand in his hand.

'Mornin' Amos,' Phelps said gruffly. 'This is Jim Longstreet, he's in charge. I'm sure you've heard of Professor Demetrius Castor.'

Amos Diggory eyes narrowed a bit.

'I've heard of Castor, but Professor Castor?' he said not bothering to shake either man's hand.

'New Defense teacher at Hogwarts,' the medi-wizard said. Castor nodded at Diggory.

'That so?' Diggory said icily. 'I do hope the reputation and skill of the staff has improved a bit.'

He glared at Castor, showing no signs of the happy cheerful man Harry had once seen before his son was killed.

Castor smirked.

'We're working on it Mr. Diggory,' he said coldly.

Diggory stared at Castor then over his shoulder. Harry felt nervous as Diggory's eyes finally rested on him.

'Harry Potter?' Diggory said sardonically. He looked at the medi-wizard then back at

Castor. 'You're allowing a student at the scene of a crime?'

He stared incredulously at Castor then to Longstreet.

'Bad enough we have an American heading the case, and I could care less about a bounty hunter at Hogwarts, but a student, involved in a murder case? I shall notify the Minister at once,' he said hotly.

Diggory turned to leave, but Longstreet clicked his fingers and the door slammed in Diggory's face.

'No rush, Mr. Diggory,' Longstreet drawled. 'The Minister will find out soon enough.

But, you are correct, an' seein' as I be da one in charge, I'm allowin' Potter 'ere to witness. Sides, he is da Chosen One after all. Special privileges and all dat.'

Diggory turned and stared at Longstreet coldly but finally shrugged in defeat.

'Fine,' he said nonchalantly. 'Like I care about Mrs. Malfoy and her tragic death.'

He held the ivory wand at shoulder height and addressed Longstreet.

'Now, although it seems very unlikely, Mr. Potter is correct, I believe.'

'There's no signs of it,' Castor interrupted. 'No tracks outside, just the markings on the body.'

Diggory pulled out his own wand and pointed it at the ivory wand.

'This belonged to Narcissa Malfoy. It was found near the body and I've been examining it.'

'What did you find out sir?' Harry asked not being able to contain himself.

Diggory eyed him without expression.

'As you know by now Potter,' he said lamely, 'there is a spell used to discover the last spell that a wand emits.'

He took his own wand firmly in his hand and cleared this throat.

Prior Incantato!

Instantly, a brilliant silvery beam shot out of the ivory wand, ricocheted off the painting above the fireplace and landed at Harry's feet. Uncertainly, Harry bent down and touched the remaining embers of the spell. It felt hot and rubbery between his fingers, specks of grey material glistened in the light. Castor and Longstreet were already exchanging looks of disbelief.

'The Largento Curse,' Mr. Diggory exclaimed. 'A rare and not that well known a spell.

Very difficult to summon.'

He paused and looked at Harry.

'It's only good for killing werewolves.'

Although his behavior and appearance was easily defined as ridiculous, Longstreet was ice cold and professional while working. He ordered Diggory to get a top werewolf investigator to inspect the marks on Narcissa Malfoy and he sent two Aurors to rustle up Mr. Weasley.

'Fuck da' afternoon,' he said loudly, 'Get his ginger ass 'ere on da double!'

The body of Narcissa Malfoy was left alone and Harry was starting to get very uneasy about being in the same room with a mangled corpse for an extended period of time, even if that corpse was once someone he despised permanently. Meanwhile, Castor was helping himself to the top shelf liquor he acquired from an upstairs drawing room and was now sitting in one of the armchairs, smoking a cigar, drinking and acting completely unfazed by the brutishly slaughtered murder victim lying a mere several feet from him. Longstreet was pacing and barking orders, allowing the press to come in only for two minutes to take pictures of Mrs. Malfoy.

'No use tellin' 'dem to put it front page,' Longstreet said sneaking a pull from the glass at Castor's side. 'Dis is gonna blow fuckin' huge.'

Harry hid himself in the kitchen while the reporters were taking pictures and asking Longstreet questions, none of which he would answer truthfully. (No leads, no witnesses no evidence or suspects as of yet, we're working on it, blah, blah, blah…)

Once the reporters were out, Longstreet lit another cigarette and began his routine pacing. Harry wondered if all Aurors paced as much as Castor and Longstreet did. He was starting to do it a lot himself.

'Wit' Narcissa dead and Lucius completely fucked with doin' any money transactions at da moment, 'dat means young Draco jus' inherited a fortune.'

'Draco had Dumbledore killed!' Harry said angrily.

'Which cannot be proved,' Castor said. 'Sure he ran off with the Death Eaters, and he is definitely suspected, but he can still walk into Gringotts anytime he wants and get money. Goblins won't shun him at the door.'

'So what?' Harry said bitterly.

'It means, Potter,' Longstreet said, 'dat a known Death Eater no older dan' has a fortune to use against us.'

'And that's a good thing?' Harry asked.

Longstreet stopped his pacing and looked at the front door.

'JACKSON!' he roared.

The redheaded Auror burst through the front door once more.

'Yes, sir,' he said, his eyes again on Harry then at Castor who toasted him with his glass.

'I want you to go to Gringotts an' talk to dat Head Goblin 'dare. He'll already know about Malfoy's death.'

'How?' Jackson asked skeptically.

'Cuz he's a fuckin' goblin,' Longstreet said as though he was talking to a five year old. 'I wan' round da clock surveillance on da Malfoy vaults. Unless it's a goblin I don't wan' anythin' goin' near dem' vaults.'

'But sir,' Jackson said firmly, 'the goblins won't go for something like that.'

'I don't wan' excuses Jackson,' Longstreet said bluntly. 'Get Shaklebolt to O.K. dis, an'

he'll understand. Anyone so much as approaches dos' vaults, arrest them fo' harboring funds to da Dark Lord.'

'But sir-' Jackson started.

'Fo' fuck sake do it!' Longstreet roared and Jackson was out the door. Longstreet flicked his cigarette onto the carpet and put a hand through his hair.

'Draco might not see the danger in going to those vaults, but his Aunt Bellatrix sure will,' Castor said.

'Demy,' Longstreet said, 'There is more gold in 'dem vaults dan' all of us combined, and the Dark Lord is gonna want dat money.'

'Thinking greed will get to a guy who doesn't care about money?' Castor asked cynically.

Longstreet nodded.

'It's a fuckin' start anyways. Mean time, I'm goin' down to Headquarters, see if I's can assist on questioning Borgin.' Longstreets eyes flashed dangerously and he clenched his teeth. 'I wan' a little keepsake off dat son of a bitch. Maybe an ear. And from 'ere on out if Potter 'ere wants to tag along on 'dis case, he's welcome to, not as dumb as I thought he waz'

Castor finished off his drink and stood up as Harry gave the Southerner a dirty look but something about what Longstreet just said registered something.

'Potter and me are going back to the house,' Castor said flinging on his jacket.

'Uh, sir?' Harry said looking at Longstreet. Longstreet turned at the door.

'Yea?'

'I really want to be help out on this, and,' he chanced a look at Castor who nodded.

'Jimmy knows about the Horcrux Potter.'

'Well,' Harry started, 'I want to be in this, all of it. But you saw the Aurors, and I am still

a student, kindof. All I'm saying is that people are gonna give me shit every time they see me doing this.'

'So 'da fuck what?' Longstreet said waving his hand. 'Let 'em, no business of 'dem anyways.'

Castor raised his hand.

'Potter's got a point Jimmy,' he said looking at Harry. 'I'm planning on taking him to the Department of Mysteries to meet Ms. Cobb, maybe figure out a way to destroy the cup of Hufflepuff. And if you want him around, you might want to, I don't know, make it a little legal. It'll keep Scrimgeour off your back at the very least, not to mention score you some points with Shaklebolt.'

Longstreet looked at Castor as if he had gone out of his mind then at Harry, who was staring resolutely back. Harry did want this, he wanted to fight, to be in the thick of it. Being around the blood drenched body of Narcissa Malfoy and the fight against dozens of Death Eaters in New York, not to mention the killing of muggle parents of Hogwarts students and the training he had received from Castor had put more fury and vengeance in Harry than he ever fought possible. Although he had felt sick at this entire situation, he was starting to realize how far a situation like this would take him, and that getting in good with Longstreet was probably a good idea. Whatever passed through his mind must have registered on his face, for the next second Longstreet walked up to Harry and dug his hand into his pocket.

'Up wit' your righ' hand Potter,' he said.

Harry put up his right hand.

'Do you, Harry Potter, swear to uphold the laws an' responsibilities of 'da Department of da Magical Law Enforcement Office an' by doin' so promise to protect 'da degree and foundations of 'da wizardin' world?'

Harry looked at Castor, then shrugged.

'Uh, sure.'

Longstreet pulled out a badge and handed it to Harry.

'Presto,' he said blandly, 'Youz' an Auror. Try to not fuck up da job.'

Longstreet pulled the collars to his coat up and opened the front doors, now only the pair of Aurors standing outside. He looked back at Castor and smirked.

'Sonia Cobb, huh,' he said his eyebrows dancing as the snow continued to fall to the ground outside, 'thinkin' bout' puttin' another shot into her Demy?'

Harry snorted in his hand, but Castor grunted.

'Go to hell Jimmy.'

The Southerner cackled like a hyena as he closed the front doors to Malfoy Manor.

A/N: Felt like writing a little bit tonight. Hope you liked the chapter. Review.

L'argento is Italian for silver.