Only Murders in Hogsmeade
WARNING: There is mention of death and discussion of suicide. Please avoid if that is a sensitive topic for you.
A/N: I hope I finish this. General disclaimers about copyright and intellectual property apply.
Part 1
A body fell past the window.
For a few moments, the Wizard Solomonari simply sat stock-still in shock not comprehending what his eyes had just seen.
His conscious mind kicked in and strenuously questioned his initial impression. A body? Surely not. It was -30 degrees Celsius outside. The perpetual blizzard that the dragonfire-bathed walls just about managed to tame during the days had finally breached the border and was laying snowy waste to the streets outside. What would a body be doing falling about in those kinds of conditions?
No. Surely not. Best to just keep relaxing in his comfortable armchair with his quilt covering his essential bits and the fire roaring pleasurably nearby.
And yet...a body had in fact fallen outside his window. It wasn't just the general shape and size of the mass but more the velocity at which it had fallen. A body swathed in thick clothes to combat the apocalyptic weather would undoubtedly fall at that very velocity with the aforesaid thick clothes no doubt producing a stronger drag than for example on the branch of a tree. And why would a tree branch fall outside Solomonari's window? How would a tree branch reach such a height as to fall outside his window? Hang on, the nuclear fallout induced ice age ensured that there were no vagrant tree branches available to fall anywhere let alone outside his window.
Now that he was secure in his belief that he had indeed seen a body fall outside his window, the question was what to do next? Surely, he could pretend that he had seen nothing and leave the shocking discovery and ultimate disposal to the responsible parties the following morning?
But a traitorous thought crossed his mind almost immediately - why was he presuming the body was a corpse and not a as-yet living person? But surely someone else would happen upon the unfortunate person sooner than he could get ready to proffer help. The treacherous part of his mind scoffed at his presumption. At this time of the evening? After the dragonfire enchantments of the Hogsmeade walls had been deactivated and the city was being overrun by gale-force winds carrying heavy drifts of snow? Not likely.
While his conscious mind was still grumpily debating whether or not to check what had in fact happened outside his window, Solomonari's body was already on the move. His little reading nook had only just become warm, his mind whinged, as he donned his sixth layer - a thick duster coat. He had just settled into his favourite book, "Myrrdin Emrys and the Chamber of Mysteries" the second of the long-running series and undoubtedly the most masterful. He had been looking forward to revisiting that particular book for the fifteenth time. He had forgotten so many details, it was like reading it again for the first time! His neck was now swaddled in two competing scarves which also luckily covered the lower half of his face. His faded brown armchair had only just become soft again after a day spent hardening unused in the cold wind (he had forgotten to close his reading nook's window before leaving the house to sell his produce that morning). He holstered his four-inch Rosewood-Dittany stalk wand and checked himself over. Would anyone check on him if he fell outside a window his mind asked pitifully as a last ditch attempt? The answer didn't matter. The Wizard Solomonari would not have been able to live with himself if he didn't at least try.
(BREAK)
The honest truth is that -30 degrees Celsius does not feel that much different from -5 degrees Celsius...as long as the air is still. When the air is not still, -30 degrees Celsius tends to immediately target the inner thighs and testes of the adult male first.
Solomonari knew he had forgotten something. He had forgotten to cast a warming charm on himself and he instantly regretted it as he apparated into a knee-high snowbank. He rectified that immediately and for good measure conjured blue bell flames to hover near him. The polar wind still managed to creep into his clothes and he began to shiver. He really needed to enchant his clothes with warming runes - the existence of the dragonfire walls had made him lazy.
He looked around and scanned the street to spot the fallen figure and see if there was anyone else he could co-opt into this investigation. There was no one.
The body, for it was clearly a human body, had sunk into the piled up snow creating a morbid snow angel. Very, very hesitantly, Solomonari made his way to the fallen figure.
"Hello there," he called out politely but his voice cracked. "Hello there!" he called louder this time. The body did not even respond with so much as a twitch.
Finally, hovering over the body which was face down in the snow, Solomonari shuddered as he did the one thing he never expected to do again in his life - he extended his hand tentatively to an obviously-dead-person's neck. It was cold to the touch and there was no pulse to speak of.
"Merde!" Solomonari exclaimed to the blizzard-strewn street as he disapparated to seek the help of the one-and-a-half person in Hogsmeade City that he trusted.
(BREAK)
The witch Ragana was just settling down in front of the roaring fire when the unmistakeable visage of Auror Alistair Moody poked his head through causing her to curse loudly.
"Are you trying to kill me?"
"Sorry," Moody's face replied, not sounding apologetic at all. "Urgent business and all that."
"At nine o' clock at night in this blasted blizzard?" she questioned him crossly.
His face didn't move but she could have sworn that he shrugged in response.
"Get on with it, what is this emergency then?" she asked churlishly.
"Dead body," Moody replied without preamble or explanation.
"Why would you need me for a dead body?" It was a fair question. While the daily rate at which Hogsmeade City died had fallen drastically since the first days of the apocalypse, it was not unheard of for a cranky old Wizard, arrogantly believing that his warming charms could defeat the end-times, to step off into the night and be found frozen stiff the next morning.
Moody shook his head, apparently guessing her thoughts "It's a young 'un. Fell from his window."
Now that was odd. It was the elderly witches and wizards that were at greatest risk in these times. Also the apparent manner of death was even harder to swallow. A wizarding child would likely evoke accidental magic to survive a fall out of a window while an adult could simply cast Arresto Momentum, not a particularly difficult charm.
"Still," she continued in a softer tone, "why can't your Aurors handle it?"
"Short-staffed," Moody groused. "Gormliss' baby was born yesterday. She yelled at me when I suggested she leave the wain and report for duty. Finks is drunk, so is Ramos. It's just me and the greenhorn Scrimgeour."
Ragana sighed. She had initially been co-opted to lead the project of raising the boundary walls of the city - a task which was almost complete after two years. Along the way, she had somehow become a general utility-person, dragged along to deal with all sorts of maladies. The worst part was that as a reward she was given a room in Hogwarts Castle, intended as a great honour of course, however in truth the wards of the Castle rendered it impervious to all external heating enchantments. That meant her 'luxurious' room was amongst the draughtiest and coldest in all of Hogsmeade City. She would have gladly shifted to a tent in the "Campground". At least then she could have been as warm as she liked. But the Hogsmeade City Council had been horrified at the suggestion and so she had stayed put.
"Fine. Let me wrap up. Where should I meet you?"
"At the corner of Black Lake Street and Dippet Street," Moody replied before ending the Floo call.
(BREAK)
Ragana wisely bundled up in six layers, two of which carried warming enchantments, before she apparated to the location that Moody had given her.
It was another blistery summer's night. 'Summer' it was laughable to continue to think of seasons when every day of the year was just a variation of frigid.
However that night felt particularly chilly. Perhaps it was that Ragana along with the other Hogsmeadians had gotten used to the daytime protection of the dragonfire enchantments in the city's walls. The enchantments made the streets of the city mostly impervious to the constant blizzard swirling outside and even provided enough heat to melt all but the most stubborn clumps of collected snow by midday. At this time of night however there was no such protection.
It was a strange sight that greeted her. Firstly, the snow piled on the ground was at thigh-level already. Secondly, a squat igloo lay ahead of her with a narrow opening through which yellow light could be seen. The rest of the street was entirely empty and only the howling wind could be heard.
With a flick of her wand Ragana carved a path for herself through the snow and towards the entrance of the igloo. Snow was swept hither and thither by her magic forming a head high wall around the new path.
When she squeezed through the narrow opening of the igloo the denizens all turned to look at her.
There was Moody of course. Middle-aged, grizzled with scars covering his face, a scraggly beard and a wooden leg. Unfortunately there was also the trainee Scrimgeour whom she had previously had the misfortune of meeting once. He was clean shaven, with a sharp face and thick reddish hair swept back into a bushy ponytail. This was the sum total of the Auror contingent.
There was another familiar face in the mix whose name Ragana could not remember but felt that she ought to. This third man's face lit up in an uncomfortable awe as he realised who had entered the igloo. He was in his sixties with a rough face but kind blue eyes. Beside him was another being who Ragana vaguely recalled meeting before but again whose name she could not remember. This being, the House Elf was also looking at her with a gaze of utmost respect. He had a bald head with wisps of white hair around the borders of his floppy wide ears. He also had what seemed like sad eyes albeit with an almost cruel quirk to his mouth.
The last man was the true unknown in the igloo. It was a short, wiry man with brown skin and short cropped black hair. Unlike the others in the igloo he did not seem to have noticed Ragana's entrance and was busy examining the walls of the igloo muttering to himself and making notes in a small notebook.
The last denizen, if it could be called that, was of course the body laying face-first in the pile of snow.
"Dead?" Ragana asked Moody brushing snow off her clothes?
Moody nodded, "'fore we got here."
Their conversation was interrupted by the older man, the one with the awe on his face who was now half-kneeling with watery eyes.
"Mistress Ragana…an honour…to see you again," he croaked clearly emotional.
Beside him the House Elf bore a pitiful smile on his face as he patted his comrade tenderly on the shoulder.
The whole thing made Ragana intensely uncomfortable. She knew why it was happening of course - the Ritual of Bonding that she had devised five years earlier. She could also intellectually understand the need to show her respect for the Ritual that the Muggle and his companion elf felt. However she could only guess at the emotional impact that the Ritual had wrought.
"Please…thank you…please there's no need."
The man took a half-knee forward and delicately took her outstretched hand in his own hand and held it to his forehead. He only held it there for a few seconds before letting go and whispering," Thank you."
The igloo was silent as everyone observed the man's reverence. Even the strange flake of a man who had been examining the walls was now staring at Ragana with undisguised curiosity.
And then Moody coughed and said, "Right…that's all well and good. Maybe we can get on with the small matter of the dead body?"
Moody's brusqueness broke the tautness of the room and Ragana felt like she could breathe again.
Ragana knelt by the body to inspect it.
"You have not turned him over yet?"
"No, Auror Moody insisted we wait for you before we did so," Scrimgeour replied in a clipped and tight tone. "Although what business do you…"
"Shut it!" Moody interrupted him growling with irritation. "Unless you want those two to flay you."
And indeed the awestruck man and House-elf were bristling at Scrimgeour's tone towards Ragana.
Ragana ignored the men, as was so often necessary. The body was clearly of a size and shape indicating a male. His brown, snow -flecked hair was long enough to reach the nape of his neck although it was now spread around like a halo.
The man was wearing thick woolen clothing and his neck had at some point been covered in a meaty scarf although that was in disarray now. He had evidently fallen flat onto a snowbank although that snow was now melting away due to the warming enchantments in the walls of the igloo.
"Who found him?" Ragana asked finally.
"This fellow…a Mr. Sulomuni?" Moody said, pointing at the wiry black-haired stranger.
"Ummm…Solomonari sir," the man corrected Moody in a soft, nervous voice which carried a hint of a mainland accent.
Ragana turned to focus on Solomonari and in turn gave him a full view of her face. She braced herself to see him flinch upon noticing the…aberration that also covered the right half of her face. But instead he stared at her face with a look of burning curiosity. Curious.
"And how is it that you came upon this body in the dead of night Mr. Solomonari?" she asked him more aggressively than she intended.
He finally flinched from her tone, not her visage. He seemed to shrink within himself and refused to meet her eyes.
"The body…" he croaked and then cleared his throat. "It fell past my window."
He looked flushed and uncomfortable, refusing to look at anyone. His hands were clasped together in front of his body and his fingers were fidgety. Did he even realise how suspicious he looked?
"A convenient story!" Scrimgeour scoffed, taking a few harsh steps towards Solomonari who visibly backed away.
Solomonari's fearful reaction seemed to kindle Scrimgeour's natural aggression and he pushed himself fully into the smaller wizard's personal space.
"You see…I checked the building register," he told Solomonari, poking a finger into the latter's chest, "and there is. No. Record. Of. You."
Solomonari seemed to fold into himself. Scrimgeour looked triumphant.
"Well?" Scrimgeour demanded.
"Now hold on just a bloody minute!" The awestruck man interjected, striding towards Scrimgeour.
"How about you bloody well back off the poor lad eh? Who do you think you are poking your finger into his chest like that?"
Scrimgeour looked utterly shocked to be at the receiving end of his own behaviour. The formerly awestruck man angrily poked his own finger at Scrimgeour's chest who was now backing away rapidly.
"How do you like that eh? Not so nice is it? Gonna suspect me as well are ya? Well you get on with asking your superior whether I'm the supervisor of this building or not. He'll tell you. And for your bloody information I already vouched for the lad."
"He's right Rufus. Mr. Blake has vouched for Mr. Solomonari being a resident of the building," Moody confirmed tiredly.
Blake, that name rang a bell. Then the House Elf must be Crankle. Ragana recalled bits and pieces from when she performed the Ritual for these two. She had found the pairing most odd at the time - a Muggle widower of a witch with no children or family to speak of and the cantankerous House Elf of a particularly rancid London-based Pureblood House wiped out in an instant by Muggle nuclear weapons. She had subconsciously thought that the pairing would fall apart at the time. And yet, five years on the two seemed to have fitted in well together. People were strange that way.
"Be that as it may, "Ragana said,"I think I would still like to understand why Mr. Solomonari's name is not in the register of residents and yet the building supervisor confirms his residency."
Mr. Blake looked at her with that same awestruck look but also opened his mouth to speak. She held up a hand to stop him, "I'd like to hear from Mr. Solomonari himself if you please Mr. Blake." She did not say it unkindly.
Solomonari shrunk back from the renewed attention and looked at Mr. Blake with desperation. The older man seemed pained.
"I uh…erm. I err…live there but ummm"
"Spit it out man!" Scrimgeour barked, making Solomonari flinch.
"...am not officially a resident," Solomonari finished in a whisper, sweating profusely despite the conditions and staring at the ground.
"What does that mean?" Scrimgeour asked, genuinely confused.
Solomonari remained silent and finally the House Elf Crankle spoke, "What Mr. Solomonari means to tell you is that he very cunningly noticed that the foolish Wizards who first constructed this particular building did so in a typically haphazard way, leaving a little cubby hole due to poor construction between the two halves forming the sixth floor of the building. Mr. Solomonari exploited this literal gap and constructed himself a flat where a hole should be. In doing so he has put the lawful residents…and supervisors of this building at risk of criminal action."
"Crankle…" Mr. Blake sighed and rubbed his forehead. But his companion House Elf was unmoved, "No Roger! I refuse to stand for this anymore. There is already enough discrimination against the likes of us, why should we vouch for this foolish boy!"
"Hold on, you're a tent boy?" Scrimgeour asked incredulously.
"Rufus!" Moody shouted incensed at his trainee's use of the casual slur for the flurry of immigrants who had flooded the city after the bombs had fallen and formed a shabby tent city near the Black Lake.
Ragana was furious at the trainee's impertinence herself. The tent city dwellers suffered the highest casualty rates in those first few years of everlasting winter. Most of the witches and wizards did not have the capability to erect enchantments and runes to keep the cold at bay for long enough to fight off frostbite. This was before the days of the dragonfire wall.
"I shall be informing your superiors of your conduct tonight Mr. Scrimgeour," Ragana informed him with such ice that even the leonine Scrimgeour looked alarmed.
To his credit he collected himself quickly,"As you wish madam. But it still doesn't free this man of his clear violation of city policy. He had to wait to be allotted a plot or flat. He has no right to be living in this building and I remind you can be imprisoned for this offence."
What Scrimgeour said was true and Solomonari looked broken at the revelation.
"Have you forgotten about the body beside our feet Trainee Scrimgeour?" Moody interjected caustically. "Are you sure your priorities are in order or is your brain as addled as your idiotic hair?"
Ragana couldn't help an involuntary guffaw as Scrimgeour reddened.
"Yes, I think it is best if we try and get to the bottom of this death first before addressing housing concerns."
The others seemed to either be lost in thought, anger or concern and stayed quiet which she took as acceptance of her proposal.
"You say the body fell Mr. Solomonari," Ragana said, addressing the downcast looking man." Given your…status…why did you decide to investigate?"
Solomonari looked bewildered,"I didn't know at the time that the person was dead…he…or she could have needed help."
Ragana felt a surge of fondness for this strange man at his proclamation. It didn't even occur to him to protect himself first before extending help. Perhaps he was not as diffident as he seemed.
"Anyway," Solomonari continued, "even if the person were dead they may not have been discovered till the morning. All night alone…in the dark and cold."
The man trailed off choking on his words.
"Shall we turn him over Ragana?" Moody asked. "The snow is almost gone around him."
And that was true. The magic imbued in the igloo had depleted most of the snow on the ground contained within leaving wetness. The body of the man was now only separated from the cobblestones of Hogsmeade City by a thin layer of white.
Moody raised his wand and silently and slowly turned the corpse over. The entire igloo held its breath.
The man was young, perhaps the same age as Ragana in his late twenties, a few years older than Solomonari and Scrimgeour. He had an unremarkable face but his expression was frozen into one of wide-eyed horror.
The man's black hair was rather wispy and his skin was pale, probably more so having been facedown in thick snow for the past few hours. He was wearing layers, his outermost one being a thick and rough black robe. However he was certainly not wearing the requisite seven layers that anyone with sense would wear before venturing out at night.
Ragana noted that the man's wand was still poking out of the front pocket of his inner robe. The victim's arms were by his sides.
"Anyone recognize him?" Moody asked generally.
"Yes, that's Lucius Jacobsen," Mr. Blake replied instantly. "Resident of 10-B."
Scrimgeour had taken out a quick notes quill which was recording on a small notepad.
"Any family?" Moody asked Blake.
Blake shook his head, "Not that I'm aware of, he lives - lived alone."
"Occupation?"
"I'm not aware," Blake replied before Crankle added,"He was certainly busy. He was rarely at home and often did not return for days at a time."
"You seem to know a lot about a resident's business House Elf," Scrimgeour said rudely.
While Crankle sneered, Blake snapped, "He has a name you intolerable fool."
Rufus looked enraged and seemed ready to pick a fight before a 'bang' went off making everyone flinch.
"Enough!" Moody said firmly holding aloft his slightly smoking wand. "Rufus, we're going to be having a word later about your attitude."
Scrimgeous did not react but pursed his lips.
"You, Solomonari," Moody said looking at the straggly wizard, "did you know this Jacobsen? Ever interacted with him?"
Solomonari shook his head firmly. Ragana was already musing another topic. She supposed Moody had to ask the question but it was obvious from looking at Solomonari and his circumstances that he would limit his interactions with building residents.
"His name is interesting is it not?" she pondered aloud. "Lucius Jacobsen. First name - Roman, common among British purebloods with their claims of descent from the wand-bearing Roman wizards. But the surname, that is surely a Muggle name."
"A halfblood - what of it?" Scrimgeous verbally shrugged.
"I don't know yet."
"Something is very odd, Moody," she continued to muse. "But I can't quite put my finger on it."
"Well pin it down lass the body's rotting away," Moody replied crassly. Ragana huffed.
"You, Crankle was it?" Moody continued. "Anything to add about this Mr. Jacobsen?"
Crankle shrugged his shoulders,"His flat was barely used. He never seemed to cook because there was always leftovers from food outlets. He seemed to always be in a rush, never bothered to rid his flat of dust even though by all accounts he was a competent wizard."
"You clean all the flats do you?"
"For money, my partner Mr. Blake and I provide services to residents," Crankle said, nostrils flaring before giving Solomonari a nasty look. "Except I refuse to do anything for the…resident non-residents who take advantage of good natured supervisors."
"Crankle…" Blake sighed, rubbing his forehead.
"Errr…right," Moody continued, "well I suppose that's all we need from you for now. You three can clear off. We'll be in touch if we need anything. And don't even think of doing a runner."
"And where exactly in this frozen hellhole would we..'do a runner' Captain Moody?" Crankle asked sarcastically.
"Hold on!" Scrimgeour interrupted. "Solomonari has admitted to violating the law. He can't go anywhere. I'll take him to the lockup."
"Trainee Scrimgeour," Moody began dangerously, "are you telling me that you think locking up a man for violating a housing law is more pressing than the dead body in front of you?"
Scrimgeour looked embarrassed but crossed his arms obstinately," Well he can't just be allowed to go back to his illegal dwelling."
Ragana decided to intervene before the matter spiralled,"Perhaps we may finish our investigation of the body in Mr. Solomonari's presence and then decide his fate."
"What if he dunnit?" Scrimgeour demanded.
"Well then you can probably take him and lock him up for murder rather than a housing offence couldn't you…Trainee auror?" Ragana asked her voice honey.
Scrimgeour reddened but wisely remained quiet.
Mr. Blake and Crankle looked at each other with an unspoken understanding. Crankle popped away. Mr. Blake tapped on Ragana's shoulder and with teary eyes said," I just wanted to thank you again."
Ragana nodded at him. He smiled, turned and popped away as well using the magic that had been given to him through the bonding with Crankle in Ragana's ritual.
Then there were four.
"Rufus, check him," Moody ordered his junior who to his credit got to his work without hesitation.
They all watched as Rufus removed a few items from the dead man's clothing - his wand, a pocket sneakoscope, a pouch with a few galleons but mostly sickles and knuts and a photo of a girl who waved up at them.
Rufus continued checking the body for marks but seemed to find nothing out of the ordinary.
"No sign of dark magic. No wounds. Suicide?" Rufus asked, standing up and dusting himself off.
"Why would any Wizard kill himself by jumping from a window?" Ragana asked disbelievingly.
Scrimgeour shrugged, "He was a halfblood. Maybe it's what was ingrained from his muggle youth."
A soft voice spoke up, "Why would he only have some of his layers on?"
The aurors and Ragana turned to stare at Solomonari whose soft voice it had been.
"What?" Moody asked nonplussed.
Solomonari pointed at the body. "He's only got his inners, his day robes and a single outer layer on. Where are the other two to four outer layers that everyone needs in this…climate?"
Ragana cottoned on nodding but Scrimgeour was slower, "Your point being?"
"If I am someone about to commit suicide I would either be dressed for the inside or for the outside. What person would commit suicide half dressed?"
Scrimgeour shrugged, "Who's to say whether he was thinking about his clothes or not in that mindset?"
Solomonari nodded, "I agree, but it's not likely is it? And as far as his muggle background goes, his first name is of Pureblood origin while his last is a Muggle one. That means his mother was a Witch and his father muggle or muggle born. Children usually spend more time with their mothers growing up. Despite what some may believe a halfblood child with a witch mother is likely to be as exposed to magic from an early age as a Pureblood."
The two aurors and Ragana stared at the otherwise soft-spoken and jittery illegally-housed wizard.
Scrimgeour recovered first, "Well if not a suicide then an accident."
Solomonari replied instantly, shaking his head.
"Unlikely. Firstly, why would he have had his window open in the first place. Given his previously mentioned state of half-dress he was either taking his clothes off or putting them on when he fell. Therefore either he was taking his clothes off being in a warm room or putting his clothes on for venturing out into the cold. That shows an understanding that opening the window himself would be pointless."
Solomonari did not wait for anyone to add anything and ploughed on, "Moreover, we have smelled no alcohol on him which means he was not inebriated when he fell. He had his wand on him and by Crankles account seemed a busy and therefore likely a competent wizard. He could have consciously avoided the fall or more likely accidental magic would have slowed his fall."
Solomonari drew in a breath and continued,"Finally notice that one his arms were by his side when he fell and ..froze and two there are no signs of injuries and tellingly no broken neck or other bones for that matter."
Ragana's eyes widened and she caught on to the implication.
Solomonari finished his monologue with a flourish, "Landing in such a thick and soft bank of snow albeit face first is unlikely to have killed him outright unless with a broken neck or massive bruising indicating internal injuries neither of which you observed. That his hands were by his side and not in front of him unconsciously reacting to a fall suggests only one realistic conclusion…"
"Murder," Moody concluded grimly.
Solomonari looked absolutely peeved that Moody stole the final word.