AN: Thank you so much for the great support! I think this is going to be fun to write. If anybody's ever seen the show Death in Paradise that's sort of the feeling I'm going for here.
Snape knocked softly on the door of the infirmary, and a very worried Madame Pomfrey let him in.
"I'm so glad it's you, Severus," she told him. "You've found out about the child's death. Please come in, the Aurors have just left."
"What did they conclude?" he asked softly as she led him across the infirmary.
"They didn't tell me," she sniffed. "But I can tell you right now that there is no potions master that works for the ministry is half as talented as you are."
"I was led to believe that it might be poison."
"That's the theory," she told him. "Would you like to examine the body?"
"I would," Snape agreed. "I'm surprised they left it here."
"The boy was from Durmstrang," Madame Pomfrey explained as she led him over to the isolation room. "They don't have jurisdiction to take the body without permission. They left it here for now under a stasis charm. I put him over here so he wouldn't disturb anyone."
"I see your infirmary is empty tonight."
"The few patients I had were malingering," she explained. "I sent them back to their houses. They were ready to go – apparently spending the night with a body in the next room isn't what they wanted either."
She went over to the bed and with her usual brisk efficiency, she turned down the sheet she had placed over the student's head.
"Meet Dragomir Danchev," Poppy said softly. "He is the son of Yordan and Danko. Apparently his friends referred to his as Mir."
"He is a healthy-looking boy," Snape observed, taking in the details of his body.
"He's only fifteen," she said, her voice soft with sympathy. "A baby, really."
"Why was he chosen to be on this delegation?" Snape asked.
"I believe his father is important in the ministry in Bulgaria," Poppy told him. "That's what I overheard the ministry saying. They are very worried that this will look badly for our English Ministry."
"Hmm, they would love it if this was an accident or somehow the fault of Durmstrang," Snape surmised. "Have you examined the body yourself, Madame?"
"I have," Poppy answered. "Only a few things that I viewed as out of the ordinary. First, the child had recently been caned."
"Caned?" Snape asked incredulously. "I know that it is far more commonly applied at Durmstrang, but that still surprises me."
"He received 10 strokes as near as I could tell," Poppy told him. "And it was done by someone who knew what they were doing. Nine distinct, evenly-spaced stripes from top to bottom of his backside and the tenth struck perpendicular to the others. Probably the morning of the murder."
"Ten is harsh but reasonable," Snape told her. "An infraction, perhaps. The person also clearly meant to give him ten, so he wasn't being manipulated. If someone were trying to use it for torture or coercion it would have been more."
"He wasn't restrained, either," Poppy told him. "And there was one other curious thing I found as well. His last meal consisted of caviar, blintzes, cream and chocolate mousse."
"How do you know that?"
"He wasn't dead when he arrived, Severus," she told him. "And he vomited. I ran a standard test for food allergies."
"I understand those are more common foods for our Bulgarian friends," Snape nodded.
"Nobody was serving them last night," Poppy told him. "Or in the last few days."
"So he ate dinner with someone last night," Snape confirmed. "Someone who wanted to impress him. It would have pained him to sit to it."
"You know more than I do," Poppy told him. "But I saved some of the vomit for you."
"How thoughtful," he said, accepting the vial with aplomb. He dealt with far fouler things than a little vomit. "I shall run tests and try and ascertain the poison used. That might help us find the culprit."
"Oh, and I also found something odd about his eyes," she told him, gently opening the body's eyes with her fingers.
"What's odd?" he asked curiously.
"They were clouded," she told him. "But that's odd, they aren't anymore. They're back to being clear."
"Did you try the standard antidotes and a bezoar on him?" Snape asked, closing his eyes in concentration.
"Of course," Madame Pomfrey told him sharply, as if he were questioning her competency. "I spelled all three standard antidotes into his stomach, as well as a bezoar in his stomach and mouth. Nothing worked, not even your excellent antidote for uncommon poisons."
"Did he twitch as he died?" Snape asked.
"He did," Madame Pomfrey agreed, watching him carefully. "You know what it was."
"I suspect," he answered. Then, he took the small vial of vomit Madame Pomfrey had given him and shook it vigorously. The vial glowed a phosphorescent blue for a moment, and then went dark again.
"What was that?" Madame Pomfrey asked, stunned.
"Moonseed Poison," he replied. "Somewhat sophisticated and extremely dangerous. You can rest easy about your treatment, Madame, there is no known cure for Moonseed Poison. Even if we had known what he ingested and I had been right here with you, we probably would not have been able to save him."
"Where could this poison have been attained?"
"My stores," he answered bluntly. "Knockturn alley. The seeds are sold by some more respectable herbologists because it can be used in a topical remedy for arthritis. Though rare, it doesn't exactly exclude people."
"Is it hard to make?" she asked.
"Any idiot third year could manage it," he told her. "Even Longbottom. But they would have to know how to do it, and that's the rub. It's not in any of our standard potions curriculum, and I don't teach it except for mastery students. I see no reason to teach children how to make incurable poisons, it would thin the ranks in Slytherin and Gryffindor considerably."
"Then how could it be made?" she asked, smothering a smile about the Slytherin comment.
"The potion can be found in certain potions books, so someone other than a potions master can certainly still make it," he explained. "Also, I must say that it does require forethought and privacy to make, as it would be difficult to purchase fully made. It takes two weeks to brew; however it is a cold brew so that it is easier to hide."
"Not many potions are cold brew," Madame Pomfrey shook her head.
"Heat it at initial infusion of powdered seed, then put it into a corked vial and shake it thrice daily for two weeks," Snape told her as if he were reading a book. And, to be honest, that was sort of how his mind stored information. "The potion gives off a faint phosphorescent light once it reaches potency. The potency is maintained for up to two years if not exposed to oxygen. Once opened, the poison is worthless within a few hours."
"So the vial the killer initially made won't work again," she agreed. "Let's hope that he didn't make others."
Madame Pomfrey hesitated, and then looked Snape in the eye. "They think Harry did it," she admitted. "I'm not sure why they think that, but I heard his name mentioned."
"What motive could Potter possibly have to harm this boy?" he asked critically.
"Apparently he knew a lot about strategy," Madame Pomfrey replied. "He was also one of Viktor's best friends, which is understandable being one of the few Bulgarians in a Scandinavian school. I think the motive might be to put Viktor off his game?"
"Hardly a Gryffindor approach," Snape dismissed. "Though Potter could certainly use a good beating, he is in no way responsible for this."
"To hear you say that is refreshing," Madame Pomfrey smiled. "But that is where the ministry is going with this."
"Then I must find the real culprit," Snape answered. "And Madame, until I know more information, please keep my conclusions from the Ministry. Until I can rule them out as having a hand in this, I refuse to help them."
"Understood," she nodded. "They weren't particularly interested in my observations either, and they didn't take a sample of the vomit either. I'm not sure they wrote down or even heeded anything I told them."
"Idiots," Snape rolled his eyes. "Now I see why I was drafted into this mess."
"Let me know what your tests find," she told him. "If there are to be other cases of this poison I should like to be prepared."
"There is no way to be prepared," he answered her with a sigh. "Whomever did this certainly intended for Mr. Danchev to die. I shall investigate if my stores were robbed in this process as well."
"Keep me informed," Madame Pomfrey told him. "And I will let you know."
"Upon reflection I have one more question," Snape told her. "First, what is the name of that odd little elf that Potter stole off of the Malfoys in his second year?"
"Dobby," she answered, smiling. "Such a dear little fellow."
"Excellent," Snape told her. "They never think to check with house-elves."