Disclaimer: Not mine, yada yada

I'm not even remotely a forensics or firearms expert, so take that into account. I'll try to be as 'realistic' as your average episode of NCIS. I may not even be that much, but please just go with it? I did make an effort to get the details on UK firearms laws (in 2003) correct, but again, I could have gotten something wrong.

Cassiopeia

By Kylia

Chapter 9

April 29th, 2003
Ministry of Magic, Level 2
Department of Magical Law Enforcement

Unfortunately, Thomas Carnerius had been less than helpful. Hermione could only operate under the assumption the murder had been planned. A muggleborn or halfblood owning a gun just because was not impossible, but it did seem unlikely. Even more unlikely that they'd just happen to have it on them when they just happened to be in a position to kill Lucius Malfoy with no witnesses.

But it was also very difficult to get a firm idea about who could have known Luicus would be there, at that time. The man didn't have a secretary, or any sort of publicly maintained schedule.

As far as Hermione could tell, there was no one beyond Holzmade himself actually knew that Lucius would have been at 3 Horizon Square at the time he was. Not specifically, anyway.

And Holzmade's story about the potions spill at the International Floo Platform in Westphalia checked out, after Hermione made some inquiries. His story was also born out by his arrival time in England itself, according to the customs logs here at the Ministry. He arrived in England at 2:26, just enough time to pass through customs, apparate to Diagon Alley and walk to Horizon Square, reaching Number 3 at 2:34 as he'd said.

So that ruled him out, not that she'd imagined him a likely suspect to begin with.

There were people who knew he would be in Horizon Square, on that day, in that general frame, and it was hard to say exactly how many of those people there were. She had the list of people she knew would know - some building owners, real estate agents, construction crews. And they overlapped quite a bit with the list of people who had grievances against Lucius Malfoy of one kind or another.

There was a knock on her office door, and Hermione waved a hand, opening the door wordlessly and wandlessly, looking up as Hadrian Allsworth walked into her office. Hermione stood, extending a hand.

"Mr. Allsworth, thank you for coming by," Hermione said politely as he took her hand and shook it. Hermione gestured for him to sit across the desk from her, and he did so.

"No, thank you, Investigator. It's good for an excuse to get away from the packs of starving hounds over in the Square," Allsworth said in a scouse accent, settling into the chair. "You'd think a death next door would drive prices down, but..."

"Prices are going up?" Hermione raised an eyebrow carefully, tyhoigh she shared his confusion.

"I had three reasonable offers last week, including the Malfoy-Holzmade one. As of today, I have a dozen, including half from international investors." Allsworth explained. "And that's just for Number 5. Number 12 has another eight offers. Most of them happened this morning." Both properties on the list that Malfoy and Holzmade were looking at. Hermione doubted it meant much, beyond that the two had been ahead of the curve.

"You think the murder drove the prices up?" She supposed some people might be drawn by the scandal of it all, perhaps? The lure of the macabre? Something like all those muggle tourists drawn to graveyards and prisons where horrible things happened?

"With a few of them... quite possibly." Allsworth admitted. "But the Prophet this morning did finally announce Lucius Malfoy's death, and that he did die in the new development being built. I think it raised the profile of the Square." Allsworth inhaled, shrugging. "Anyway, how can I help you? Assume this is in relation to the investigation?"

"It is," Hermione nodded. "Lucius Malfoy and Ottokar Holzmade were interested in both of your constructions in the Square, Numbers 5 and 12. You intended for Number 5 to be a block of flats, and number 12 to be a... cafe?"

"That's what I envisioned, yes, but I didn't build the structure married to either idea," Allsworth agreed. "But yes, I did receive an owl from Malfoy regarding his interest, as well as an opening offer." Allsworth grimaced, making an apologetic and helpless gesture with his hands as he went on: "I considered telling the bastard to eat slugs, but... it was a lot of money, and a man in my business can't go around alienating people like Ottokar Holzmade."

No, I suppose an architect-cum-real estate developer can't. Wizarding property could be quite expensive, and Allsworth had built in many countries over the years - people like Holzmade, and Malfoy, the Notts, the Greengrasses... they were the ones doing much of the buying in those cases.

Hermione preferred her flat in Muggle London to having Daphne Greengrass's father her ultimate landlord, thank you very much.

I suppose that might explain another reason why Lucius Malfoy was so willing to partner with Holzmade. Though it did make his purchase of Number 3 from Carnerius even more surprising. Carnerius had said - honestly, as far as Hermione could tell - that Lucius Malfoy's offer had been too promising to refuse, and the bill of sale had had quite a few zeros to support that. And Carnerius's family was old-blood and wealthy as well.

Allsworth's parents were both muggleborns, and his wife was a squib. Though neither of his children - twins in their 2nd year at Hogwarts now - were.

"Perfectly understandable, Mr. Allsworth. Did he tell you when on the 24th Holzmade and him wanted to look at your properties?"

"He asked if I would be available around three in the afternoon for the two of them to look the places over and discuss the offer in more detail, and I told him I'd be doing the finishing touches on the maintenance wards in the walls all day, so I'd be available then." Allsworth explained. "That's the real trick - you have to do the wards in the interior wooden walls last, after the paint or wallpaper goes up," Allsworth explained, leaning in a little, sounding proud and conspiratorial, like he was sharing some vitally important secret. "Never had any of the walls in my buildings need a touchup, not for thirty years."

"Impressive," Hermione nodded. "And did you hear anything unusual that day?"

"Not until I heard Holzmade screaming bloody murder," Allsworth admitted. "Not that I knew the German screaming about a dead body was Holzmade until later, you understand." He added, clarifying. "Then there were aurorors and DMLE types all over Number 3 - I didn't even know Carnerius had sold the place to Malfoy until I saw the article this morning. Your letter yesterday just said he died there,"

Hermione didn't see any sort of sign he was lying. She wouldn't claim to have a perfect instinct for these things - she preferred investigating people's paperwork, rather than their spoken word, their expressions - but she wasn't as bad as she might have been when she was younger, about reading people's expressions, tones.

But, if Allsworth was indeed telling the truth...

"You had three offers for Number 5 before. May I ask who else was offering?" Hermione changed tack.

"What, you think someone killed Malfoy over my property?" Allsworth scoffed, "My buildings are impressive, Miss, but they're not worth killing over. Especially not when you've got a bastard like Malfoy. If I hadn't been in Venice with my family when You-Know-Who took over..." Allsworth shuddered a little, "I know it's murder and all, but... is killing a man like that really murder?"

"I can't say I'm shedding a tear for him, Mr. Allsworth," Hermione said stiffly, making a mental note to dig more into Allsworth's connections to the muggle world. She didn't think he was the killer - but... well, he did have the right combination of factors to be the killer. Or nearly so. "But murder is murder. And who's to say any killer would stop there?" If it became okay to kill just one person because he was the 'right target', then all it took was expanding the definition of 'right target', and you could kill anyone.

And then they came for me. Hermione had heard some of her fellow muggleborns draw parallels between Hitler and Voldemort, and she could see the argument. But Hitler had always pushed for power within the system before breaking it, running for election, pushing for a certain measure of respectability from the conservative elites as he cut deals with them in the final push for power, even shoving his own people aside for those same conservatives, such as with the Knight of the Long Knives. Only when his power was truly secure had he let loose with his vilest decrees and tyrannies.

Voldemort was just as racist, and then some, and certainly as vile, but he'd always preferred to lob bombs at the political establishment, rather than try to co-opt it. Hitler learned from the failure of the Beer Hall Putsch. Voldemort... not so much.

Though, it was a good thing that Tom Marvolo Riddle had never thought to pursue a more indirect path to power. He might have been more successful, and wasn't that a terrifying thought?

"Yeah, that's true..." Allsworth admitted, reluctantly, returning Hermione back to the moment.

"As I was asking, who were the other two initial offers?" Hermione asked. Again, it didn't seem like it was relevant, but she had to do her due diligence.

"I can't go giving that sort of information out, Investigator Granger," Allsworth countered, sitting up straighter in the chair. "Until an actual bill of sale is signed, it's not really the Ministry's business who I talk sales with."

"Yes and no," Hermione countered. She'd expected this part, and she opened her drawer, pulling out a small book, shrunk to the size of a teabag. She held it out over her desk and waved her wand silently under her desk, the book suddenly expanding to full size and landing on the desk with a loud thud, enough force to shake the desk, and both their chairs - Allsworth nearly jumped in his seat.

She always thought that helped with the effect.

"Strictly speaking, it's not something you're obligated to hand over to the Ministry, without an order from the Wizengamot." Which was not worth getting - Warrants were a lot harder to obtain in the Wizarding World than the muggle one. But she had other means at her disposal. "On the other hand, if you decide not to assist me with my investigation, it would be your obligation to hand over, in triplicate, full documentation of every magical ward and effect built into both of your buildings." She tapped the book with her wand and it opened with another thud, pages flipping quickly to the one with the proper regulation.

"Not to mention, given that Number 5 had a murder happen right next door, rightly speaking, under Article 19, Section 4, Subsection 178, Clause 9 of the 1805 Law of Suspects - still in force - I should be prohibiting any sale or renting of that property until a proper inspection can be conducted to make sure there's no way our murder suspect might have fled through it." Granted, Hermione knew for a fact that if Allsworth challenged her on this, she'd lose before the Wizengamot. This was an expansive reading of the Law of Suspects of 1805, to say the least. And the law, though technically still in force, had been riddled with so many loopholes, amendments, exceptions and new laws over the last two centuries that it had little legal meaning.

"And of course, I wouldn't be able to conduct such an investigation for... months, at least," Hermione added, smirking. "Do I need to go on?" She tapped the book again and it flipped to the relevant clause.

Allsworth shifted in his seat, leaning forward, looking over the cramped, tiny writing in the book, pulling back and rubbing his eyes.

"It's not your business!" Allsworth protested, a bit weaker this time.

"As I said, it isn't. But, the Ministry does also have to make sure you're not doing business with any sanctioned persons, or organizations. For all I know, the Chotek Family is making one of the offers, directly or through intermediaries." The Prague-based pureblood family had been sanctioned from doing business in Britain by the Ministry three years ago due to their unwillingness to accede to certain laws regarding the protection of some magical creatures in the country. Wizarding Austria's laws had always been a great deal laxer on that score.

"I'm not - I'm hardly-" Allsworth protested, then frowned. "I'm well aware of which foreign persons and organizations are on the sanctioned list, and I've never once done business with any of them!"

"How can you say for sure? Twenty-five years ago, the sanctioned Vespucci Chess Company was caught using a French intermediary to sell their improperly enchanted sets here in Britain." Hermione pointed out, calmly.

Allsworth inhaled sharply, grimacing, then slowly, he let it out. "Fine. I'll send you copies of the offers within the hour." He started to stand, "And to think, the pureblood elite is more worried about your friend Potter showing up for an Auror inspection."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Mister Allsworth." Hermione offered with a well-practiced polite blandness. She had found that under the right circumstances, this infuriated the other person even more, and right now... Well... "But I'm going to need copies of all your offers," She had just initially wanted the first two. But since Allsworth had decided to be difficult, she could be difficult back.

Allsworth stared daggers at her, then inhaled. "Fine. All of them."

"The Ministry appreciates your assistance in this investigation." Hermione offered a smile, and stood, walking around the desk and opening the door to the office. "I shall expect those copies within the hour, Mister Allsworth." Allsworth nodded, grimacing, and stepped out, slamming the door behind him as he left, hard enough for the frame to shake a little.

"Well, that was satisfying, but probably useless." Hermione muttered to herself. A financial motive for Lucius Malfoy's death could theoretically exist in the property sales, in the offers, but drawing a connection between that and the use of the gun...

Allsworth's disdain for Malfoy aside, Hermione didn't think he was the killer - he didn't give her that impression - but Hermione was not one for gut instinct. It wasn't like she was perfect when it came to that, and she preferred hard facts. And the facts where that Allsworth did check most of the boxes for someone who would have had motive and opportunity and possibly the means.

Before Hermione made a few notes in the casefile, but before she could write too much more than a sentence or two down, there was another knock on her door. Hermione waved the door open, and Director Fleetwood stepped inside.

"Director," Hermione put her quill down, starting to stand, but Fleetwood waved a hand gently, gesturing for her to stay seated.

"The Muggle Liason Office has approved your request to speak to a Muggle Forensics expert about guns, as well as to cast appropriate confundus charms to cover any inconvenient questions." The Director handed her a thick stack of parchment, which Hermione knew would be a legalese heavy document listing out in rather agonizing detail what she was and wasn't allowed to do for this.

"So, I wasn't fortunate enough there was a convenient Squib, or parent of a muggleborn student at Hogwarts in a relevant field?" Hermione flipped through the paperwork. Surprisingly, they'd given her blanket permission to pick her expert, rather than limiting her to a specific muggle or list of muggles.

"Not as far as the MLO can tell, no." Fleetwood nodded.

Well, that makes my life more difficult. But she could do some research.

"I'll get to it then," Hermione nodded.

May 1st, 2003
Forensic Consultancy Associates of London

When I'm done with this case, I'm getting the internet set up at my flat. She'd have to figure out the right charms to keep the internet from interfering with the technology, but she already had those for the phones and other modern muggle conveniences, so it shouldn't be too much harder.

She hoped.

Hermione had known about the internet, but she'd never had much opportunity to use it. Her parents had been resistant about it had home, but a few years ago they'd finally set it up. She'd tried it out herself, and found that it's slow speed was incredibly frustrating, but there was a great deal of information available. According to her mother, her father had become increasingly prone to waste time debating politics with random strangers online - not to the point of it dominating his life, but still.

Articles and books she'd read on the subject made it plain the internet was a double-edge sword, but it would have saved her a great deal of time, likely, because she could have found this company sooner, or another company like it.

Forensic Consultancy Associates of London was a private firm, sometimes contracted out to by police and the like, but more often used by defense attorneys to examine the evidence provided by the prosecution, examine evidence for civil cases, or to provide expert witnesses for the court in general. She would have preferred to use someone working for the UK government, but it was simpler to concoct a reasonable lie with the Confundus for a private firm, and this one came well rated and recommended, as far as she could tell.

"Thank you for meeting with me, Mrs. Singh," Hermione extended a hand, and the other woman, Amyra Singh, took it and shook it.

"Of course. I understand you had some firearms evidence for me to examine?" The woman asked, her lab coat looking almost robe-like on her short frame. Hermione, of course, wasn't wearing robes or her ministry uniform for this visit, opting for a trouser suit that suited her cover as a lawyer.

"I do." Hermione took out a small glass jar with the remains of the bullet that had been pulled out of Lucius Malfoy. She set it on the desk, and readied her wand inside her pocket. "I need to know everything you can tell me about the gun that fired that bullet." Nonverbally, and with a very light flick of her wand within her pocket, Hermione quickly cast a Confundus Charm on the other woman - she spasmed a moment, as the spell took hold.

"And now that the paperwork is done, you can set to work on telling me what you know." Singh blinked a moment at Hermione's words, but then nodded.

"Right. Thank you for getting that paperwork properly sorted," she said a bit distantly, blinking again. "You'd be amazed how many don't get it right and then we waste time making sure all the forms are right." The woman pulled a magnifying glass out of her pocket and looked closely at the bullet. "Without running more involved tests, there's only so much I can tell." Singh started.

"And how long would those tests take?"

"A few hours, most likely, but dependent. What sort of time frame do you need this for you -" Singh blinked. "What sort of case is this?"

"Civil. A bullet was found in one of my client's cows, and he's filed suit against his neighbor for the damages. The neighbor insists it wasn't one of his guns" Hermione lied, hand inching closer to her wand again.

"So no specific rush. Well, I hope you understand that regardless of what some films and shows on the telly tell you, there's only so much you can actually get from a bullet. The forensic experts for the prosecution in murder cases will often claim that you can connect a bullet to the gun that fired it by various striations, but that is... well, only so true."

"Well, what can you tell me?" Hermione frowned. Her research on forensics hadn't extended to firearms - DNA, Fingerprints and that sort of thing was what she'd been trying to adapt for magical investigations. That there wasn't much she could learn was...

Unhelpful.

"Well... I can tell you that this is almost certainly not from a rifle," Singh offered, after a moment. "I'd want to try to reconstruct it to be sure - it's quite damaged - but this looks like a 9x19mm Lugar... which is almost entirely used in handguns and submachine guns."

Well, that made sense to Hermione. A pistol would be easier for a wizard to conceal, though thanks to expansion charms, even a larger rifle could be hidden in a pocket. Hermione knew a submachine gun fired much faster, but she was fuzzy on the difference between a submachine gun and a machine gun, among others.

"You say this was found in a cow? And this is a civil dispute?" The woman stared at her, and Hermione inhaled.

"Yes. Is there something-"

"If this is indeed a 9x19mm, then this isn't something someone could just walk into a gun shop and buy. Nor are the guns that fire it legal for civilian ownership."

Well. Hermione knew there were regulations on gun ownership, of course, including that they'd gotten tighter after Dunblane, but... she hadn't realized that Lucius's killer had used an illegal firearm.

That seems like it would trim the suspect list. It would be one thing for someone who wanted to kill a man like Lucius to walk into a gun shop and buy a gun, or borrow a gun from a muggle relative. But for it to be a gun illegal to obtain in Britain? That would require that the killer had more than just a passing familiarity with muggle society - or a criminal muggle relative. Singh's comment about 'civilian ownership' suggested police or the armed forces might have it, so a muggleborn or halfblood with family in one of those fields might also be plausible.

Singh set the jar down, looking at her desk. "The paperwork you filled. Where did it -"

"Confundus," Hermione pulled her wand out, still keeping it low as she gestured at the woman, making her spasm again.

"There was nothing remarkable or illegal about the bullet," Hermione said as she stood, taking the jar quickly and pocketing it. "You did your analysis and can send an invoice for your time to this address," She set down a very nondescript business card, to a front business owned by the Muggle Liaison Office, which handled most payments the Ministry needed to make to muggles of any stripe, when necessary.

"Right... right..." Singh blinked repeatedly. Two confundus charms in short succession weren't good for the mind, though there wouldn't be any permanent damage. Still, she'd be half out of it for a good while, so Hermione used the opportunity to leave. She needed to avail herself with a better idea as to what sort of guns used this sort of bullet.

Hermione hurried out of the building, walking purposefully and quickly - not running, no need to draw attention to herself like that.

She'd hoped that this visit would give her information she could actually use, but all she was really managing to do was find herself running into more question, few answers, and not even much she could actually use to practically narrow the list down.

If she could have figured out what sort of gun-

Wait.

Hermione slipped down a side street, seeing no witnesses around. As she disapparated away, an idea was already forming in her head.