Chapter Eight: New developments and a save
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Yannick apparated at the address Sean had given him when they had talked a few moments ago by floo. The house was slightly isolated from the others that formed the small village. It was three story high and he was quite certain it had been built by Muggles, from the look of it. Probably somewhere in the 1800's. He walked to the front door and was let in by one of the Aurors guarding the door.
The house was decorated with taste and its owner clearly was well off. As he went up the stairs to the first floor he saw two statues, of Greek origin. He stopped by them and touched the stone. It felt old. Those were most probably originals, and Merlin knew how much these could fetch on the Muggle market of antiquities.
Another Auror at the top of the stairs told him that Sean was in the main room down the hall. He walked to the open door and saw his friend crouching next to a man who was lying on the floor, lifeless. Sean seemed deep in thoughts and was gently stroking his goatee.
"So what have we got?" Yannick asked him as he joined him.
"Another murder, as you can see," Sean said, motioning around the room, "Magic used and victim is a man, late fifties."
"Do we know who he is?"
"Arnold McShane," Sean said, "From our records, he was closing on 58 years of age. Not married and no living relatives."
"Muggle or Wizard?" Yannick asked, seeing that he could not see a wand near the victim.
"Squib, actually," Sean said, taking out a parchment and looking at it, "Father was Antonius McShane, a renown Muggle archaeologist. His mother, Abigail, was a witch and a truth seeker. Both were killed during Grindenwald's time."
"Do we know what spell was used?" Yannick asked.
"From the look of his face," Sean said pointing at the man's peaceful face, "The Killing curse. And either he was taken by surprise or his attacker did not scare him. But we might know more when the legist comes," he added.
Yannick nodded grimly and looked around the room closely. It was a large study room, furnished in expensive looking wooden furniture. There were several bookshelves, filled with old books and some ancient looking artefacts. He went towards one of them and inspected the books that were there. They were on many subjects and in at least three or more different languages.
"This man was quite learned and seems to have been well off," Yannick said, "Did he have any domestics, House Elves?"
"No House Elves but four domestics actually," Sean said, "A gardener, a cook and two maids for the cleaning and other tasks. They do not live here but in the village. None of them were here when the murder took place."
"And even if they had been, I doubt they might have been able to do anything," Yannick said, "The maids could not come in here at least," he added.
"How do you know that?" Sean asked.
"There is enough dust here to give the House Elves of Silverleaf manor a heart attack," Yannick said, showing his dust covered finger, "But it actually helps us."
"How so?"
"Well, I guess we can tell what he was working on by the amount of dust around," Yannick said, "this shelf for example has lot less dust on the middle than at the top and the bottom."
"Anything interesting?"
"Looks like our friend did a lot of research on myth and legends," Yannick said, "Muggle books but also Wizard ones, no wonder the maids were not allowed here."
"I also noticed the absence of any magical artefacts in the house," Sean said, "While this room if filled of it."
"Same here," Yannick said, continuing to inspect the books, "Interesting," he added, taking one of them out of the shelf.
"What is it?"
"This book is familiar," Yannick said, "I saw it before."
Sean was about to ask something but he was interrupted by a loud voice that was heard in the hall.
"I need to see Mister O'Maley," it said.
Yannick saw Sean close his eyes and sigh.
"Oh Merlin," Sean said, "What is that guy doing here?" he muttered as he stood up and walked towards the hall.
Yannick pocketed the book and followed. He soon saw the owner of the voice, a plump looking man with a bowler hat on, who was talking to the Auror posted at the top of the stairs with a bossy tone.
"What the hex are you doing here, Forrester?" Sean half growled as he approached him.
"Oh, O'Maley, good you're here," Forrester said, starting to look for something inside his coat, "I have something of utmost importance for you... ah here it is," he added, handing a roll of parchment to Sean.
Sean took it and started to read, only to let out a cough of astonishment and looking at Forrester with wide eyes.
"Is this some sort of a sick joke?" he asked angrily, waving the parchment in front of the man's face.
"What is it, Sean?" Yannick asked.
"This is an official letter from the Ministry," Forrester replied instead, "Mister Sean O'Maley has been taken off this case."
"What?!?" Yannick exclaimed, "This is insane."
"I do not think so," Forrester continued, "He is to turn over all evidence to our office and we will be taking over the case from here."
"Earnshawn's office taking over the case?" Sean said bitterly, "Don't make me laugh. You guys would not even know of a Death Eater even if he was standing before you and waving his death mark in front of your face."
"Well it does not say much to you either," Forrester said on a darker tone, "I still see murders happening."
"And we are closer to catching the culprit with this one," Sean shot back, "Who gave you access to the crime scene, anyway? I gave specific orders for that not to happen."
"I am afraid this would be me," a voice said from the bottom of the stairs.
Yannick looked at the origin of the voice and saw a tall man standing there, dressed in very elegant dark green robes, sewn in silver. He looked like in his late fifties and his eyes seemed to survey him and Sean with disdain while he came up the stairs to meet them.
"Mister Octavius," Sean said, "I had no idea you had an interest in this case."
"Oh, but I do, my young fellow," Octavius said, "And to see that despite several months on the case you have not caught anyone, I prefer to assign more competent person onto it."
"I do not think that they will have an easier time," Yannick said.
"I am sorry," Octavius said, turning to look at him, "But who are you?"
"This is Yannick Silverleaf," Sean said, "He has been assigned to this case by Kingsley due to his knowledge of the French murders."
"Indeed. I did not know Dominic had a son," Octavius said, raising his eyebrows a little, "And would you care to tell me why you think this mister Shiverleaf?"
"First, it's Silverleaf," Yannick said, refusing to rise to the bait, "Second, this man here declared one of the killed dead by gas intoxication while that person owned an electric stove and there was no trace of gas anywhere in the flat. That does not tell me much of his deductive abilities," he added, pointing at Forrester.
"I am not the one who wrote the report," Forrester scoffed.
"Maybe not. But you are the one who signed it and thus reviewed it," Sean said, bitterly "You should have spotted such mistake."
"I did not come here to be accused of incompetence," Forrester shot back.
"Gentlemen, please! Now is not the time to argue about such petty matters," Octavius said, "I believe that the orders you received are quite straight, Mr O'Maley. You and your team are to turn over all evidence found to Mr Forrester here, who has been assigned to the case by Mr Earnshawn."
Yannick saw Sean's eyes harden at the mention of that name.
"Fine!" He snapped, "But don't come crying to me if those guys mess it up," he added before to turn away and go down the stairs, "McCornic, Evergrass, pack up your stuff we are out of here," he called to the two Aurors that were on the ground floor, "Jenssons and Callwad, you two stay here until their team arrives. Then you meet us at the ministry."
"Got it, chief," the answers came from different parts of the house which were soon followed by the sound of two persons disapparating.
"Mr O'Maley," Forrester said as Sean reached the bottom of the stairs, "You are supposed to turn over evidence to me."
"And I will," Sean said harshly, "But not before having filed my report with my superior, which I might add is neither of you two. Goodbye," he added, before disapparating himself.
Yannick was not really surprised by Sean's behaviour. This case meant a lot to him and to be taken off it and seeing it given to people who could not tell the difference between a nail and a screw must be infuriating indeed. He nodded to McCornic, who had kept his position at the top of the stair case and started to go down to the ground floor, not sparing a glance at the two others.
"Mr Silverleaf," he heard Forrester say, "It is of course expected that you will help us on this case."
"Oh really?" Yannick replied, "I guess this is in your orders as well?"
"Absolutely," Forrester replied, looking pleased, "Signed by Mr Stiller himself."
"And what if I refuse?" Yannick asked.
"I do not really see that you have choice on the matter," Forrester started.
"Oh but I do actually," Yannick said, "I am not under the orders of Mr Stiller, whatever his position is. I am freelance and borrowed my services to Mr Shacklebot after he asked for it."
"And what would convince you to help us?" Octavius cut in, "Surely a lad of your age must be in need of a stable work, or stable income. I am sure we could find some sort of arrangement."
"My services are not for sale, Mr Octavius," Yannick said, feeling anger rise into him, "I assist who I want and when I see fit. And right now, I don't see it fit to help you, even if it is to resolve this case."
"You better watch your words, young man," Octavius said, his face flushing a bit, "You might find that my reach is long in the ministry."
"I'm not under the ministry's orders," Yannick replied, "These are empty threats, Mr Octavius."
"I find you quite insolent, Mr Silverleaf," Octavius said.
"I do not like to be pushed around," Yannick replied, "I tend to bite back when that happens. Bear that in mind next time you try to threaten me," he added.
Git! He thought as he disapparated.
An hour later, Yannick was signing the letter that he had been writing in Sean's office. He folded it and applied some hot wax by the opening. Taking his signet ring off his right hand he used it on the wax. Gran had designed this ring for him and he always liked using it on letters he sent her.
He was sure that the latest movements on the case would interest her. Shacklebot had seen no problem on keeping her informed of the developments of the case. He was aware that she could also be of help in it. However, he was now in his office with Sean, and Yannick hoped that they would be able to find a solution to get the case back to their department.
Putting his ring back on he took another look at the book he had found during his inspection of the latest murder. It did not look out of the ordinary for a book, having the distinctive making of a Muggle book from the end of the 1800's. Its black leather cover was still in very good shape and the gold lettering of its title, uncommon myths and legends, was still shinning. What had attracted Yannick's attention was that the author's name was familiar, Algesiam McShane. Probably related to the man murdered but he was also sure he had seen this book in Gran's study back at Silverleaf Manor and he was hoping she could help him out to find out more about it.
He opened the book, glancing through it. It covered many subjects but, as its title said, these were not the common myth and legends you saw in Muggle books. While there was a whole chapter on dragons. Another was on the creatures thought to inhabit bogs and marshes. A more common one on faeries and gnomes. What startled him the most however was a chapter on Elves. Right at the page facing the beginning of the chapter was a drawing of a text in flowing letters that he knew only too well, Elven. And this was not a Muggle attempt to reproduce Elven, like he had seen in a Muggle book called 'Lord of the Rings'. This text was word for word the "i'Meneldalie"- "the Elven Way", the code of law that was followed by all Elves. On the other hand, there was no translation of the text and no caption for the picture. That could mean that the author of the book had found this by chance and found it interesting enough to include in his book.
He was however interrupted before he could give it further thoughts about, by Sean entering the office, his face looking tired and still clearly angry.
"So?" He asked his friend who settled at his office desk.
"The bastards thought about everything," Sean said, "Every rule we could think of to get the case back, they thought about it and were able to counter it."
"How is Shacklebot taking it?" Yannick asked.
"He's furious!" Sean replied, "This move is a direct hit against his bureau by Earnshawn's team. And that Octavius is behind this makes him even angrier."
"Though that it was Stiller that gave the order," Yannick said.
"Oh he did," Sean said, "But it puts Octavius in charge of this case and I am sure he arranged that."
"Okay… Who exactly is this Octavius?" Yannick asked, "My first impressions of him are that he is a git."
"Well, you are not far off," Sean said, "His full name Maximus Octavius. He apparently came to the ministry after the first fall of Voldemort. He supported Fudge during the second war and now he's a supporter of Devin Stiller."
"So he's against the Minister?" Yannick asked.
"Not openly, of course, but yes," Sean replied, "Merlin knows if this clique questioning each of the Minister of Magic's decisions is what we need."
"Ambrosius is a good man and a good Minister," Yannick said, "It runs in his family I guess,"
"What do you mean, mate?" Sean asked.
"You don't know who Cheldon Ambrosius' family is descended from?" Yannick asked back.
"Never really looked actually," Sean said.
"That family is descended from Merlin Ambrosius himself," Yannick said. "Gran kept track of it. A kind of hobby of hers," he added, winking at his friend.
"Wow! Impressive," Sean said, "No wonder Dumbledore and the rest of the Winzengamot support him."
"As for Octavius," Yannick said, "He was in Slytherin while in Hogwarts?"
"Now, how did you guess that one?" Sean asked, chuckling.
"Oh, I don't know," Yannick said, "The sneering looks, the robes, the fact that he tried to bribe me…"
"He didn't?!?" Sean exclaimed.
"That he did, mate," Yannick said, "Right after you left actually."
"He could get in trouble for that," Sean said.
"I guess so," Yannick replied, "But I doubt anyone would move a finger on it, apart from our department. So now what do we do?"
"Well," Sean said, "As per the orders I have to turn in all the evidence, which means that I am here for most of the rest of the day, and the evening."
"This book can be classified as evidence then," Yannick said, handing it to his friend, "Do you think we can make a copy of it?"
"I doubt that Earnshawn's office will allow us to," Sean replied sullenly, "Anything interesting?"
"Yeah, there is a whole Elven text in there," Yannick replied, "Not translated so it could be a coincidence, but I am positive that Gran has the same book."
"Interesting," Sean said.
"Yup. But don't mention that in your report, let them figure it out by themselves," Yannick said, "Last thing I want is these guys snooping by the manor. In any case, I was off the investigation when I found that out. So you're not obliged to report it," he added, grinning.
"I like your way of thinking, mate," Sean said, smiling a bit.
"Thanks," Yannick said, "You want any help on the paperwork?"
"No, its fine," Sean said, "I can handle it by myself. By the way, you can take this, you'll need it for tonight," he added, tossing a piece of paper to Yannick.
"What's this?" Yannick asked.
"That is a ticket to the Quidditch match that will take place tonight between Wimbourne and Chudley," Sean said, "Cynthia was supposed to go but she can't make it, so I am taking you with me."
"I dunno, mate," Yannick said, "I am not sure this is a good idea."
"Nick," Sean said, "You need something to get your mind off the case and so do I. This should do the trick,"
"But I can still work on the case," Yannick said.
"No… way," Sean said, "You are coming with me to see this match."
"Sean…"
"Look, Yannick," Sean cut him, "I know why you really don't want to go there, so don't try to find a false alibi. What have you got to lose?"
"I do not want to impose myself on her," Yannick said.
"You are attending a game where she happens to play in one of the team," Sean said, "It could have been any match."
"Still…" Yannick started.
"Look mate," Sean said, "You are coming with me to that game and that is final. I am not losing a bloody ticket because you are not coming."
Yannick tried to find another argument to come up with but found himself unable to.
"Alright," he said, "I'll come with."
"Good," Sean replied, "Now, I need to finish off this paperwork before I can go, so I'll meet you by the stadium, about an hour before the game starts, okay?"
"Works for me," Yannick said, "You sure you do not need help?"
"Yannick, get out of here and enjoy the day a bit," Sean said, "You have been working harder than I have on this case and all of this for free. So out, I don't want to see you before the match," he warned.
"Got it, chief," Yannick said, chuckling lightly, before to go out of the office.
Alex was strapping her arm guards on, making sure that each latch was secure so it would not hinder her during the game. She could not afford any distractions. Tonight's game was too important. She readjusted her knee guards and then picked up her beater club, checking for any cracks in it that she might have missed when she cleaned and inspected it after their last practice.
Around her the rest of the team was getting ready. Anna Sullivan, the second beater of the team came out of the women's changing room and started to check her equipment as well. Theodore Watts, the keeper, whom the team called Teddy because of his bulk and placid behaviour, was talking with the team's seeker, Jonathan Swift.
There was a little tension in the room but the team was quite cheerful overall. They had only lost one game this season, to the London Falcons, who were still unbeaten this year. Alex smiled as she attached her long fiery hair in a pony tail that would keep them out of her face during the game. Harry Potter was a very good seeker. With him on the England squad, they had very good chances to win the World Cup this year.
"Alright team, listen up!" Bob, the Wasps' captain, said as he entered the changing room, followed by Angelina. "Today is a key match for both us and Chudley. If they lose here, they are out on the second spot run. But so are we if we lose, and we cannot allow that."
"Aye!" Theodore Watts, their keeper, said.
"So lets review our tactics," Bob said, "we all agreed on which one to use for this game. What do we know of their players?"
He was asking even though they had gone over them a few days ago. This was part of a routine they had adopted when Bob had assumed the captainship of the team and so far had permitted them to win almost all their games.
"Their seeker is a tricky one," Michael Wirth, the third chaser pointed out.
"Fact," Anna Sullivan said.
"But he does not play well under pressure," Alex pointed out.
"So we still agree on the 'pressure the seeker' tactic?" Bob said, "Our two beating harpies should be up to that," he winking at Alex and Anna.
"I'm not a harpy, Bob," Alex said, chuckling.
"Well maybe not when you think of looks," Angelina said, "But I would think twice before crossing you, girl," she added, winking at her.
"'Pressure the Seeker' works for me," Anna said.
"Good, make sure you also protect our own seeker, should they adopt the same tactic," Bob said. "Teddy, you miss a Quaffle and you'll regret being born."
"No miss or else I'm toast. Got it chief," Teddy answered, making a small salute.
"As for the chasers," Bob said, "We are still okay for the usual tactic?"
"I'm game," Michael said.
"Me too," Angelina concurred, "But if they see through it we should also rely on the acrobatic attack tactic," she suggested.
That tactic was one they had recently come up with. The beaters would focus on targeting the enemy chasers, while their own chasers would steal the Quaffle and then attack, making frequent passes and not flying straight, so as to confuse the opposite team. It was a good tactic, having the only drawback of being quickly taxing for the player's stamina and thus only good for a short while.
"Noted and good thinking," Bob said, "Jonathan, you do what you do best."
"Uuuh… and what is that exactly?" The seeker asked, feigning stupidity.
"Catching the snitch you clown," Bob chuckled, sending a rolled up t-shirt his way, "Alright team. Lets go and show those Cannons some high class Quidditch," he added, standing up and picking his broom.
The team roared in agreement and stood up as well. Alex knocked her beater club with Anna's and they followed the others out to the pitch.
An hour later, she was flying cover for Jonathan, so as to protect him from the bludgers that McKnight and Everdam kept sending in his direction. The match was ongoing furiously, both team hell-bent on beating the other. The score was tight, but in favour of Wimbourne. Now all they needed was for Jonathan to catch the snitch.
Alex deflected another bludger that was aimed at her team's seeker, who in a bold act of trust, was only looking for the snitch, trusting her to fend off the threats. At the same time, Anna was keeping the Chudley's seeker, Willy Boiledash, on his toes, sending any bludger she could find his way, making it hard for him to look for the golden ball.
Jonathan suddenly dropped on his broom and sped towards the east end of the pitch. Alex followed him and saw that he had finally found the snitch. The little golden ball was hovering in the middle of the pitch, straight in Jonathan's path. The seeker had to dodge a bludger that sped past him and which Alex sent towards Boiledash, who was trying to reach to snitch as well.
As if sensing its impending capture, the golden ball suddenly sped towards the Wimbourne's goal hoops. Jonathan veered to stay on its trail but Alex went the opposite way, deflecting a bludger towards Boiledash, who was coming towards her and was forced to dive to avoid it. She looked back to see Jonathan close in on the snitch, which he caught deftly with his hand.
"Way to go Jonathan!!" She whooped.
She saw him brandish his fist in the air and the crowd started to cheer in the stadium. Just then she heard Anna's scream.
"Alex! Look out!"
She looked back in the direction where she was going and saw a bludger coming straight at her. It was fast, too fast for her to react and she had only time to brace for the hit before it struck her full in the head. She saw bright lights and felt herself fall from her broom. She heard the referee's whistle, the crowd starting to scream and then... nothing.
Alex groaned as she tried to open her eyes. Her head was killing her! Where the hex was she? All she could remember was the bludger hitting her and then the blackness. She could not even remember hitting the ground.
"Alex?" she heard a voice say next to her.
She opened her eyes slowly and shifted on her pillow to face the person who had spoken. Sitting on a chair next to her bed was her team-mate, Anna, who looked worried beyond belief.
"Where am I?" Alex managed to ask, slowly becoming more aware of her surroundings.
"You are in St Mungo's," Anna said. "You were transported there as soon as the Mediwizards reached you."
"The game?" Alex asked. "Did we win?"
Anna had a little laugh. "Aye! That we did," she said, "Jonathan's catch allowed us to win by 170 points."
"My head is killing me," Alex groaned.
"You are lucky that is the only thing that is hurting you, Alex," Anna said, "Why, if it was not for…"
The door of the room opened suddenly to reveal Angelina and Bob, pushing a miserable man in the room that she recognized as one of the Chudley's beater, Jordan McKnight. They were followed by the rest of the Wimbourne team.
"There! You see?" Angelina said, pointing at Alex, "I told you she would be alright."
"Alex, it is very good to see you are awake," Bob said, grinning. "Now put this young man out of his misery and tell him you are fine. He has been acting as if he has killed somebody."
"I'm fine. Apart from a major headache, that is," Alex said, "Why were you so worried, Jordan?"
"Well, you see," Jordan said, looking at his hands, "I'm responsible for the bludger hitting you. It was coming to me and I hit it away, trying to send it towards your team to cause disruption."
"Well… That was achieved I would say," Teddy said, chuckling lightly.
"But I never intended for it to hit her," Jordan said, defensively, "It was an accident."
"Don't worry, Jordan," Alex said, smiling, "I'll be fine and on my feet again in time for our next game. But I appreciate the concern, nonetheless."
Jordan seemed to be relieved and smiled.
"Thanks for saying that," he said. "It puts me much more at ease. I'll go rejoin my team now," he added, heading towards the door. "But if anything is needed at all because of my mistake, you let me know, alright?" He said, when opening the door.
"I'll be sure to do that, Jordan," Alex said, "Thanks."
Jordan seemed to hesitate before to go out.
"Lucky that you have a guardian angel watching over you though," he said quickly, "I would have hated myself if that had not been the case," he added before going out.
Alex felt fully awakened by that sentence.
"What the hex did he mean by that?" She asked her team-mates, "What guardian angel?"
"Well…" Anna started.
"To put it straight," Bob said, "You fell from a height of about twenty or more meters, unconscious. Normally you actually should be in pretty bad shape."
"But all I have is a bad headache," Alex said. "So what happened?"
"Someone caught you," Angelina said.
"Someone caught me?" She said astonished, "Who? How? One cannot apparate on the field during a game."
"To be more exact," Angelina said, "No one can apparate on the field until the referee whistles for a stop."
"We are not exactly sure how it happened," Bob said, "All we know is that he apparated in the middle of the field and broke your fall with a wave of his wand."
"Then he caught you and deposited you on the ground," Teddy said, smiling.
"Who was it?" Alex asked, "Do you have his name?"
"We have no clue," Michael said, "Jonathan was the first to reach you but the man disapparated before he arrived."
"So we have no clue of who it is?"
"Nope," Bob said.
"Well I can say he was about one meter eighty tall," Jonathan said, "Pale skin. Long brown hair that was tied in a ponytail…"
"Funny choice of hairdo, if you ask me," Teddy chuckled, "A pony tail, ha!"
But her team's keeper remark was lost to her. She knew who this person was from the moment Jonathan had mentioned the hair. And that realization caused a mixed reaction inside her. Why? Why had he left again? Was he scared of her? Why that the reason? She had been so harsh on the train that he was now avoiding her even when he saved her life? As she thought this she remembered of what had happened in her sixth year. How she had been kidnapped and he had come to rescue her. How much she had been happy to see him then. How good she had felt each time he had comforted her during her seventh year. And now he was avoiding her. She had pushed him away completely and this last realization left her feeling sad all over. Was that really what she wanted? Somehow she was not sure.
I'm an idiot… she thought, closing her eyes to hold back her tears and letting her head fall on her pillow.
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