So many officials were gathered at the house that the ministry was forced to erect tents outside. Two large, purple-and-silver Ministry Of Magic marked tents filled the muddy front yard. Their heavy cloth material was so saturated with spells of stealth and concealment that occasionally even the Ministry themselves would lose track of them, for awhile.
Fred had assured them that he was okay over a dozen times, but he still could not shake the crowd of people that felt like they needed to assist him. Between Beth, the Healers, fellow Aurors, and assorted other ministry officials, he had at least six sets of eyes on him at all time.
He didn't feel so bad, now, for having not seen it coming. The rest of the Aurors and officials had determined the woman had been the victim of some very old, very dark wizardry. An ancient technique even the most seasoned of professional could not specifically identify had been used. A team of Investigation Department wizards had event been sent back to headquarters to review ancient texts, hoping to gain some knowledge of what had occurred.
The woman - Agnes - had been dead for several months. Magic had been used to poorly conceal this fact, and it would likely have been far too noticeable for someone young to have been used in the same way. Her body still lay in the middle of the living room, partially covered by a too-small sheet. Occasionally, a late-arriving official would wander into the room and prod at her feet with their wand for a few moments, before deciding that they couldn't solve the mystery, either.
Just like the scene in Halifax, no nook nor cranny went without being searched. One Magical Law Enforcement official was even tasked with sorting through the woman's many decorations and knick knacks - carefully pulling each ceramic squirrel and broken coo-coo clock from the wall and tapping them vigorously with his wand, quickly reciting all of the appropriate spells, before adding them to a growing pile on the living room floor.
The dead crow just added further confusion to the entire situation . For some reason, they had decided to whisk it away to the Ministry while leaving everything else to be investigated at the scene. It's true connection to the case was uncertain.
"Someone from the Prophet is outside. They are saying that they need to speak to someone soon, or they will be forced to just print the rumors they have heard." Beth appeared more bothered by her own news than any of the rest of them. She raised a shaking hand and adjusted her glasses nervously. The woman wore a dark red cardigan, likely a leftover from her time as a Gryffindor at Hogwarts. Fred had never been able to determine how a woman so scared of her own shadow had been sorted into the house of the brave. Even ++he+++ had been denied entry to Gryffindor, despite his hopes, something that still bothered him as an adult. The young woman ++had+++ shown considerable bravery though, on this day. While attending to her actual job - thoroughly documenting everything she possibly could and making sure that Fred's notes were as well-written as possible - Beth had also taken to acting as a sort of ineffective crowd-control for the home. While actual Ministry officers were busy dealing with evidence and interviews and keeping Muggles from the scene, she had been forced to run off more than a couple of curious wizards looking for a scoop.
"There is nothing to be said right now. Who is it? Pittman?" Sable rolled his eyes. He enjoyed reading the Prophet as much as anyone else, but they had to know that they were getting on the Ministry's bad side with this one. Beth nodded solemnly.
"You tell Pittman that he still owes me for that time I had to help him run the Ghoul out of his attic. Tell him I still know where the Ministry keeps it, and I will not hesitate to give it back to him." Fred seemed to be joking, at first. Beth stared at him for a second, trying to drum up the cheer for a chuckle. It became apparent that he was serious, and the woman turned quickly and marched back towards the door, ever the reliable assistant.
As soon as Beth walked away, the two men standing closest to Fred saw an opportunity. Though she was a reliable member of the Auror department, the woman had not-yet been with them long to here some classified information.
"Potter has been trying to get down here, but the Minister forbids it. Thinks this all was an elaborate set up to get him here. He figures it's some disgruntled Death Eaters trying to get in one last hoorah." Richard Redfield was the younger of the two men. In his first three years in the department, he had captured or killed more dark wizards than many would ever hear of in a lifetime. He had been a Hit Wizard, the highly-trained special forces who were only called upon to capture or kill the worst of the worst. After a severe injury had left him near-death during one such mission, Richard had given up his position on the Hit team. Wanting to settle down and begin a family before losing his life in a duel Wanting to make a few years passed thirty, the man had decided that a less-intense area of Law Enforcement was probably the best way to go.
The other man, Mr. Pike, just stared blankly at the other two for a moment. They were both well-acquainted with his temper, and could already see the tell-tale signs - bulging eyes, reddening face, furrowed brows. He man opened his mouth once, then twice, to try and summon the correct words to speak.
"We do not need to publicly discuss Potter and other ministry officials and their impact on this case. Not right now, probably not ever." Thomas Pike was the head of the Auror department, having replaced outgoing head Harry Potter the previous July. Potter had been promoted to Head Of Department for Magical Law Enforcement, and was the youngest person to have ever held the title. His replacement was nowhere near as well-spoken, nor as well-liked, as he had been. In fact, many of the older members of the department - those that had actually participated in the second wizarding war, and had won it - had resigned from the department when Pike took it over. Though Potter was becoming the boss of their boss, his new position meant that they would rarely see him - while seeing his replacement every single day.
"A New Era Of Peace," the Department's most recent slogan, had also influenced the decision. The recent, relative calm in the wizarding world had shifted much of the focus away from what would formerly be considered "big" threats - dark magic, dark wizards, and the like - and putting it more on to what they considered "realistic" threats - petty crime, theft, magical mismanagement. Now in control of a department that generally loathed him, and tasked with changing their general focus, Pike was left in a horrible position to be dealing with this situation -death, dark magic, and black boots.
"Sable, the Minister was concerned before, when this was an isolated incident involving muggles. This has got everyone breathing down his neck even closer now, and the pressure just keeps on down the line. He's getting on Potter's case, and Potter is getting on my case, and -"
Fred held up one finger as he sipped his coffee to quiet the man. His boss stopped talking, but looked as though doing so may cause his head to explode. There were very few men that could shush Thomas Pike and remain standing with their nose intact. Sable just happened to be one of them. He knew not to push his luck too far with the man, but the whole situation had him on edge, as well.
Pike and Sable had always been polar opposites when it came down to their jobs. Whereas Thomas was a very blunt man, who took his problems head-on, Frederick Sable tended to be more on the reserved side, utilizing violence only when absolutely needed and solving many of his problems through his skills in deductive reasoning. With Harry Potter being a very well-rounded mixture of the two, the trio had enjoyed an unprecedented run of successes during their time together in the Auror department.
"I understand, sir. But I also understand that leaping to a conclusion just to have one will do us no good, either. I have faith that something will come along to ...correct our path." Frederick took another sip of coffee. It, like every sip had had ever taken for the last decade, was incredibly warm. The cup in his hand had been long-ago bewitched. The coffee inside seemed to remain at the same amount and temperature, no matter what. It had taken him several months to perfect he magic - with slight adjustments needed for taste, of course. He considered his own words for a moment. He knew that the other two men would likely roll their eyes. Not many of his colleagues had much faith in the same things he did - his belief system was a hodge-podge of various mystical concepts, ranging in influence from Tibetan monks to ancient Native American Shamans. He had always incorporated his beliefs into his work, they had always served him well. Anyone else that saw even a slight connection between his beliefs and his successes merely attributed this to coincidence - an odd man, with odd beliefs, who was oddly good at his job.
Sable knew that things would become clearer to him in the evening. He had always placed a particular level of focus on to his dreams, especially those that came right in the middle of turmoil. When a case appeared to have no further leads to follow, and every end reached so far had been dead, it was usually the dreams that sparked further success in his investigation. He hoped that tonight would be no different.
"Sable, I know you have very strong beliefs about specific .. things. I have always trusted you to make the right decisions on your cases, but this thing is huge. We have got to get a grip on what is actually going on, here. Why people are talking about -" Thomas's voice dropped in volume considerably, "About Grindelwald being back. We can't have this right now. My job has been hard enough lately. We need to stop this, figure out why it has something to do with you and Potter."
"Mr. Sable! We have a problem. Pittman says that he wont have to worry about ghouls if he is homeless and unemployed, said we forced him to do this. He's going to report on the rumors he has." Beth had burst back into the room, red-faced and sweating profusely. It appeared that she had just lost a very loud, very dramatic argument.
"You have got to be kidding me. I'll go talk to a few more Prophet contacts at the Ministry." Redfield seemed quite excited at an opportunity to leave the crime scene, the house, and their conversation behind. Before either of the other men could reply, he had started for the door. After a quick pause to raise the hood of his cloak, the man stepped outside and vanished with a small popping sound.
Just as the young man disappeared into the air, three more popped in existence beneath the tent in the front yard. Frederick recognized the old men as Investigation Department officials, at least one of which had been on the scene earlier today. They all three hurriedly made their way in through the front door, joining the more and more cramped crowd of people inside.
"Mr. Pike, we have found it." The first of the men spoke across the room as they entered. A few of the other men on the scene stopped what they were doing and turned to listen. The investigator glanced around and quickly moved forward to whisper in Thomas' ear.
The head Auror's eyes stared straight forward, remaining on focused on the wall beyond. He did not allow them to betray any of his feelings about what he was being told. In a second, the investigator backed away and rejoined his two colleagues. They stood, silently, as Pike scratched at his chin thoughtfully.
"Sicario Mortem. Interesting.." Thomas did not seem too concerned with his words being heard by the rest of the room. Almost no one else seemed to know the significance of what he had said. The man investigating the knick-knacks, however, clearly did. He gasped loudly, and the glass rabbit in his hand fell to the floor, shattering dramatically.
"What is Sicario Mortem?" Beth asked, glancing from Pike to Sable to the gasping man and then back again.
"A myth. Or it has always been thought of as one," Frederick did not take his eyes off of Thomas' as he spoke. He was hoping that the other man would correct him, laugh at him, tell him that he was mistaken, "It is a powerful piece of dark magic. Used to posses the bodies of the dead, to cast one's own soul into them."
Pike nodded, and began buttoning up his overcoat. If they were absolutely sure about this, he knew, then his own worst fears were nearly confirmed.
"The only wizard to ever master it, rumor has it, was Gellert Grindelwald." Thomas Pike glanced back to Sable one last time, shaking his head, and then began walking towards the front door of the home. He gestured for the investigators to follow him.
Sable watched them go, wordlessly, as his assistant seemed to stare right into his soul. Shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, he realized that he had never considered that the witnesses could have been telling the truth. Maybe they had seen Grindelwald. Maybe the man was back. The Auror gave a slight shiver. He didn't know how any of this could be possible.