04 The Goblin, the Wand-maker and the Veela
They walked down the Charing Cross Road together, both deep in thought, until a small man appeared from a side street. He had a long grey face which was wrapped up against the cold, in what looked like a cape, even though it was over twenty degrees. Next to him was another man, only this one was shy of their height. Stranger still, the taller man's clothing was the same as Tony's, all black.
"Good grief, I know them," Tony said, speeding up.
"Who's the dwarf?" Adam asked, keeping up. Tony stopped in his tracks and looked at him. Adam realised he had overstepped an unknown mark. Tony shook his head after a moment before turning away towards the small man.
"Professor Goranuk." He called a moment later. "Professor Goranuk." He shouted this time. The two men stopped and turned towards Tony.
"Young Garrett, what are you doing here?" He reached up as Tony leant down and shook hands.
"All right, Monty?" Tony called to the other man, who did not reply, moving off to one side, trying to avoid any conversation. Tony looked down.
"Professor, you're a long way from Durmstrang?" He asked as Adam stopped beside him, his eyes not leaving the second man, who had moved away, trying to blend into the background.
"Job interview, in the Leaky Cauldron, would you believe?" His arms and voice rose in pitch as he spoke.
"That's an odd place for an interview. What job would that be, barman?"
"Hilarious Garrett." He laughed. "Don't forget the annual get-together. We missed you last year."
"My mother requested, no, demanded, my presence at last year's festivities. Hopefully, this year I should be able to get away for a while."
"Of course, your parents are Muggles."
A cough came from beside him and he turned towards Adam. "Professor, this is DCI Adam Croft. He's a policeman."
The professor reached up. Adam had to reach down a long way to the outstretched hand. He took in the grey skin tone, deep-set eyes, and huge hands, which engulfed his own. The small man's grip was much firmer than he expected and strangely warm for someone, Adam thought, was a sickly-looking individual.
"Adam, this is Professor Goranuk. For two years at school, he taught me a great deal."
"Nice to meet you, Professor. What are you a professor of?" Tony's mind slipped into overdrive when he realised what was about to happen. How was he going to explain what a potions professor taught? The professor was way ahead of him.
"Chemistry," Goranuk said with a quick glance at Tony. "What would Anthony Garrett be doing with a policeman, I wonder?" He asked, looking at them both.
"We're working together on a case," said Adam, noticing how he had changed the subject when he was asked a question.
"Really," he said, looking at Tony, "that is most unusual."
"We are living in unusual times Professor, needs must."
A cloud seemed to pass over the little man's face. "Last time I heard that comment was about fifty years ago, just before I started teaching. It didn't bode well for anyone." The professor stepped back, a coldness in him that was not apparent to Adam when they first spoke. "I'm going to be late. Expect my owl, young Garrett."
"I will Professor, goodbye."
Tony turned to the other man, expecting him to say something, but he turned away and walked up the street, with Goranuk hurrying to catch up. Adam was about to move on, but Tony was frowning, looking at the floor.
"Something wrong?" He asked.
"Very much so." He replied to himself.
"Care to elaborate?"
"Not at the moment. I need to make a few enquiries first."
"Muggle?"
Tony thought for a moment. "Silly word to describe someone who doesn't belong to the school."
"Owl?" He asked, looking straight at Tony.
"Another old-school thing, it means a letter." He said, walking along the street.
"Letter, no one sends letters anymore." He said, following Tony, before looking up the alleyway, that the men had walked up. He stopped in his tracks. "Where the fuck did they go?" He exclaimed as he looked up the empty alleyway. No doors and the far end was blocked by stout, tall iron railings. Tony looked down the empty alleyway, shrugged, and then carried on walking.
"Are you not the least bit surprised they disappeared?" Adam asked.
"No," Tony said as he continued to walk down the street, leaving Adam open-mouthed.
About ten yards further on, he realised he was alone; Adam was still looking down the alleyway. Tony realised that someone disappearing in an alleyway with no exits was not normal for Muggles, something he should have remembered. He brazened it out and kept walking, not knowing what else to do. In his mind, he breathed a sigh of relief when Adam caught up with him. He hoped he'd gotten away with it, reminding himself not to make such stupid mistakes again.
"Why was the other guy wearing clothes identical to yours?" Adam moved in front of Tony, stopping him from walking any further forward.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Tony replied immediately, realising his next mistake, as he was used to people dressing like himself.
"The other person was wearing identical clothes to you, even down to the lace-up shoes. No one wears lace-ups anymore." Anger was starting to re-enter Adam's voice.
"I didn't notice."
"That is a uniform." He pointed at him. "You are lying just like your little friend was."
"What?"
"When he said chemistry, he glanced at you, as if he was hiding something, and you knew what it was." Adam waited for an answer from Tony, which he did not get, so he pressed the point further. "Also, that bit about a job interview was probably a lie."
"I agree with you about that. No one has an interview in the Leaky Cauldron." Tony was floundering; he had nothing to come back with.
"And what the fuck is a leaky cauldron?" His voice was rising again.
"It's a hotel and pub on Charring Cross Road," Tony said, trying to change the subject to something he could cope with. He felt his heart sink as he saw the look on Adam's face change. He'd made another mistake.
"I know the Charing Cross Road and there is no pub or hotel called the Leaky Cauldron."
Adam turned away and strode along the footpath, not waiting for Tony, his hunched shoulders showing he was angrier than when they first met. They walked on in silence, both lost in thought, which suited Tony.
He left Adam outside a bland, neat, block of flats, without too many comments or questions from him. Adam had pointed at his clothing and told him he was a plain-clothed detective and that he should not turn up in a uniform tomorrow. They parted company amicably, but there was a coldness in Adam's voice. That didn't bode well for the following day, he thought.
He headed off down the street, looking down each side road until he found what he wanted, a deserted alleyway, with no lights and, he hoped, no cameras. After seeing the CCTV footage earlier, and the problem with Goranuk in the alley, he felt a little paranoia was in order. He moved down the alley, looking around for a moment before a loud crack rattled off the bare walls.
A moment later, he was standing in the centre of Diagon Alley. He wandered along the quiet street until he came to the second to last building, a large handmade elegant sign proclaimed, Pinne Byquist, maker of fine Scandinavian wands. The shop was dark; a small light in the rear highlighted a huge blond man bent over a small foot-operated lathe, turning a new wand.
Tony opened the door to the shop, heralded by the tinkling of a small bell. As he stepped inside, the wand-maker, Pinne, stood up and came from behind the counter. Pinne was the nearest thing to a real Viking Tony had ever met, seven-foot-two and weighing close to three hundred pounds. None of it looked like fat.
"Anthony Garrett." His thick booming accent sounded strange, especially in the closed confines of the small shop. "What can I do for you, new wand, perhaps?" He said as he walked across the small room, his head brushing the ceiling.
"My wand is fine, thanks. I have a request?" He looked up at the man mountain in front of him.
"Official?"
"Yes, can you look at this wand?" He pulled the wand out of his pocket and handed it to Pinne.
"I made this." He said as he took the wand and rolled it in his hands. "Hazel, Unicorn hair, 10 inches, flexible. Was owned by Argonia Huxley, but the wand thinks differently now."
"In what way?"
"The wand is ownerless, which would tell me that the owner is probably deceased." Pinne's hand went inside his shirt and pulled out a long, carved wand that looked tiny in his massive hands, but would have been stupidly long and thick in Tony's. He held it by the tips of his fingers and whispered. Tony caught what he was saying. Prior Incantato. Images appeared from the end of the wand, too quick for Tony to see.
"Right, I've gone back as far as I can. The last ten spells used were Lumos, Crucio twice, and Accio three times. I don't know what they were trying to find. Episkey, twice and Lumos again." A cloud seemed to pass over Pinne's face as he stared at Tony. "The last spell this wand cast was the Avada Kedarva curse." He waved his own wand at some parchment on the counter, and a face appeared on it. "This is the person the curse was aimed at. It did not miss."
Pinne waved his wand at another piece of parchment, and another picture appeared on a separate piece. "This is who the Crucio curse was aimed at."
Tony picked up the pictures and found dead girl number one, Sarah Mitchell and dead man number one, Marc Ewan, looking back at him. He held his hand out for the wand. Now he knew Argonia Huxley, whoever she was, had killed Marc Ewan and had attacked one of the dead girls.
"Don't hold this wand for too long. It no longer has an owner and it might choose you." Pinne said, holding the wand out in front of him. "Especially if someone's wand is sealed inside a metal tube."
"You know why I keep my wand hidden, and anyway, you can't have two, can you?"
"The wand chooses the wizard, Mr Garrett." His voice booming, "It does not care if you have one wand or ten."
Tony thought about this for a moment. "You might save me a journey; do you have a picture of Argonia Huxley?" Pinne smiled. Using his wand, he made another picture. Tony picked it up and looked at the face of dead girl number three. He shook his head. "Is this definitely Argonia Huxley?" He asked, holding all three pictures up in front of him. Pinne nodded and frowned at the same time.
"You have a puzzle, Mr Garrett."
"There is another wand inside the ministry I would like you to look at."
"Already seen it. I had an owl from the Ministry two days ago. The wand was an old wand, made by my predecessor, Olivander. That means I'm unable to interrogate them in quite the same way as I can with my own wands. However, the wand was oak, seven and a half inches, dragon heartstring and very flexible. The owner was Ninian Ferhe. Again, the wand was ownerless." He paused a moment to allow this information time to sink in. "The last six spells, starting with the oldest, were Lumos twice, Accio, Homenum Revelio, Petrificus Totalus and Crucio." Again, Pinne flicked his wand at yet another piece of parchment. The face of Argonia Huxley appeared on it.
"Can you tell me when these spells were used?"
"The big question." Pinne's voice boomed. "No." His voice dropped.
"How about where they were cast?"
"No, you're the Auror."
"And you're the wand-maker, of course, I'm going to ask." Pinne smiled at him. Tony continued. "I have to assume that they were looking for something, then realised that someone was watching them, used the spell to find them, tied them up and then tortured them."
"Wand interrogation is not an exact art. These spells could have been minutes, hours, or even days apart."
"So assume nothing?" Tony replied, frustration in his voice.
"No, I think you're right, but you could be wrong."
Tony's mouth dropped open for a moment. "That is so not helpful." Said Tony, as a huge smile appeared on Pinne's face.
"I take it you will require my services again?"
"If I do, it might mean more murders. Does that mean you will help?"
"Someone has used a wand made by me to hurt. I do not make wands to hurt people. Yes, any help I can give will be freely given."
"Thank You, I'd better get going. Thanks for your time." He said, putting the pictures and wand back in his pockets.
"My pleasure, Mr Garratt."
Tony exited the shop and continued back the way he came. An Owl hooted at him from outside of the Owl Emporium. He carried on past the Wizarding Weasleys joke shop, shut for the night, and then turned the corner before Gringotts, into Nocturn Alley. He stopped at the second building, knocking twice on the small wooden door, before pushing it open.
The door opened to a small office with modern-looking desks, covered with piles of parchment scrolls, all about ready to topple over. A head popped up from behind the nearest pile.
"Tony, how nice to see you." said a surprised voice. A woman's head popped up from behind a pile of letters and scrolls. She had dark wavy-haired and heavy-eyed. The smile was predatory.
"Edlyn, what are you doing here?" His pulse speeded up. She had been at school with him and he had always fantasised about her, too shy to even talk to her, let alone ask for a date. He was all of fifteen again, awkward as memories reawakened his desire for her. Then the bad memories came flooding back, and Tony had the urge to open the door and run.
"Temporary posting. This office is having problems with parchment build-up." She gestured around the room. "And I have to sort it out." She flicked a strange-looking curvy wand and a pile of parchments lifted from one table to another. She stood up and brushed tiny fragments of imaginary paper off her tight black dress, taking as long as possible, ensuring Tony could get a good look. He realised he hadn't seen her for several years, and she'd filled out a little, in all the right or wrong places.
"It's going to take a while, by the looks of it?" He said, trying not to look at the accentuated curves while she moved around the desk.
"Ages," she replied, her voice now husky. "It's just so terrible having to go to lunch in Diagon Alley every day, or go shopping in London anytime I want." She smiled at him, her eyes looking straight into his. "I'm about to finish for the day. Do you fancy a drink at the Cauldron?"
His breath caught in his throat as his mind walked through scenarios that included Edlyn. Then, as before, more memories came rushing back, the bad memories.
"I'm sorry, I can't. I'm on a case with Muggles. I need to use the flu network to get to my temporary home."
"I thought you were staying at the Cauldron?" Disappointment in her voice.
"I was removed by the Ministry this morning." Her shoulders dropped, which caused everything else to move.
"When do you think you'll be free?" She moved and was now standing beside him, her eyes level with his, her breath on his face.
"Tomorrow, possibly." He said as her hair stroked his cheek. He almost squeaked as he spoke. "Depends on how this case pans out."
"You'll know where to find me. I'm here until this time every night. After that, I'll be in my room at the Cauldron, alone. Number eleven." Her eyes seemed to get bigger as they bored into his.
She broke eye contact and moved away. Tony could feel the heat from his face, his pulse racing.
"I'll see you in the Cauldron when I get the chance." He stuttered.
"Do that Tony," she said without looking around.
He threw a handful of flu powder into the fire. "12 Grimmauld Place." He said as green fire engulfed him.
A moment later, he stepped into a neat, modern living room. He could feel sweat running down his back, the same feeling he used to get at school whenever he was around Edlyn. He felt like a young stupid kid again, angry with himself, ready to make the same dumb mistakes.
He took a deep breath and looked around himself. A huge television screen dominated the whole of one wall. Comfortable sofas were arranged around a small table. A bookcase and framed pictures completed the room. He peered at one picture. The face in the picture turned towards him.
"What you staring at?" The figure said angrily. Tony backed away, apologising. He walked into a corridor and then into a long narrow kitchen, the centre dominated by a long polished wooden table with matching benches on either side. Modern units and worktops were up against the wall under the window. A large modern range cooker dominated the far end of the room.
Tony looked around, very surprised at how muggled it was; the type of kitchen his mother would like. He wondered if this was a house elf's doing. Turning around, he found a huge silver double-doored refrigerator. He pulled the doors open and found it stocked with food and drinks. Then he noticed dozens of small bottles on the bottom shelf, the only clue to the wizarding world. He pulled a couple out and inspected the handwritten labels. Antidotes to poisons were labelled blue, poisons black, medicines red, and protective potions green. He put them back and closed the door.
Next, he went upstairs and found many rooms, all locked except for one on the third floor. Inside the room, he found all his belongings, arranged in the wardrobes, personal items on the small dresser, and his chest at the foot of the bed. There was a small toilet with a shower next door.
A hooting noise made him spin around. In a cage was Freya, his owl. The cage door was open, allowing the owl to slip out and fly to his shoulder, her feathers tickling his neck.
"Seems the ministry has thought of almost everything." He whispered into the owl's ear as he turned back to the door and smiled as he saw that the wall next to the door had a huge wooden board on it. Several pictures were pinned to it, with parchment pieces pinned under them. He realised the pictures were of the two dead wizards. This was the magic equivalent of the electronic display board in Adam's office.
A polite cough came from outside the door in the corridor. Tony looked out and found a small grey man, with huge eyes, waiting. Dressed in an immaculate white toga, tied in a knot on his shoulder, his nobbly knees stick out at the bottom, with bare feet.
"Are you the house elf?" He asked.
"My name is Meninda, and I work for the ministry, looking after this house for people such as yourself." The elf had a deep voice, considering he looked the size of a five-year-old. "Would the young master require anything to eat?" He asked.
"A sandwich and a hot drink would be most pleasant," Tony replied.
"I have been appraised of your requirements by the ministry." He clicked his finger and a steaming drink and a plate topped with a sandwich appeared on the table.
"Many thanks."
"Does the young master require anything else?"
"No, thank you Meninda." He snapped out, leaving Tony on his own.
"No, the ministry has thought of everything." He said to the room. Except for how to answer awkward questions, he thought. Freya hooted into this ear, happy to see him as he reached up and stroked the soft feathers.
He took the vaping tube from up his sleeve, opened it and pulled his wand out from inside. He threw the metal bits on the bed before flicking two of the three pictures Pinne had given him at the wall with his wand; they attached themselves to empty spaces. Picking up more parchment pieces stacked under the display board, he waved his wand over them, one at a time. Writing appeared on them, detailing the names and information Pinne had given him. The new parchments also ended up on the board in their correct places.
He now had five names, dates, and places of death. Also, he knew one Muggle, Marc Ewan, had died at the hand of one of the other victims, the witch Argonia Huxley. The same witch had used the Crucio curse on the Muggle Sarah Mitchell. Also, Ninian Ferne had used the Crucio curse on Argonia Huxley. They were all linked somehow. He knew he needed Adam, but how could he help if he didn't have all the information?
Sitting down at the small bureau, he spent half an hour writing out all the information he had on ordinary paper with a quill. He planned to add this to Adam's crime board in the morning, making sure he kept any information about his world out of it somehow.
He went to the window and slid the sash up far enough to allow Freya the room to get in and out before going to bed.
Sleep evaded him as different scenarios played through his head. Most were about tomorrow, and some involved Edlyn, and in every case, he dropped himself in it or made a fool of himself.
