Hogsmeade Noir
Part I:
Late was the hour, and later was the hours of service in Hogsmeade. I sat waiting as the tea grew colder than winter’s coldest night, until an unfamiliar face walked in. The man, a Duke of some nature based on his apparel, knew about my work as a private investigative auror, and has a commission for me: to stake out Hogsmeade to find out where is the werewolf. This was not the plan I had for the new year, but I weighed my options over at the Hog’s Head Tavern. I cannot relay the information of my assignment yet, so as not to betray confidence, but I am on the case.
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I NEED MORE OF THIS PLEASE
Part II:
What prompts lycanthrophobia? Is it the fear of the unknown? A fear of being mauled? Or was it the fear that your loved ones could turn at any moment? I couldn’t help but ask myself these questions as I came by various posters promoting hatred of werewolves across Hogsmeade. Sure, at full moons they are dangerous, but none of these attacks are around that time frame. Even more so, these attacks seem random. One thing is certain: I will have to make camp nearby and continue exploring the Shrieking Shack nearby.
I'm sat. I'm invested.
Part III:
At the mid point of my hike to the Shrieking Shack, I found an ideal spot to set up my camp. Alone and deep in the woods nearby, I made my camp. Within it is my portable offices and notes, complete with a tree full of different messenger owls, including my personal companion since my Hogwarts days, Consul the Blakiston’s Fish Owl. These days he seems to be the only friend and loved one I have left after…the incident.
In any case, I continued to work on my case and found something remarkable, and disturbing. Within the shrieking shack itself I found a most peculiar package. I safely secured it and searched the premises. This ruined shack, haunting me in its silence and unstable manner, reminded me much of the life I could have had once upon a time, but since then I have changed and the nature of change is uncertain, much like the beginning and end of a case. This would be no different, for in the adjacent hallway I found embedded in the walls the markings of claws and blood. There is indeed a werewolf in town, but why were they lashing out at the walls? Why Hogsmeade, of all places? What were they doing with this package? I cannot say for certain, but I must retreat to my encampment so I might find more answers.
We're getting a glimpse into the detective's backstory, love that
Part IV:
I return to my tent, and look into the package I had found within the shrieking shack. What do I find but a Trojan horse. An item discrete yet up front. A perfect carrier for poisons: an elaborately designed necklace. Its design looked similar to one that cursed a student of Hogwarts sometime ago.
That is where this here mystery takes a turn:
“what would a werewolf be doing with a replica of a cursed object?” I pondered out loud to Consul. The bird abruptly spread her wings and chirped wildly at the artifact. Knowing her she only reacts this foul if she was near potions. I looked closer at the design of the necklace and realized there was a substance within the necklace itself: Wolfsbane brew.
I sent word to my contacts to find if any of them have had or heard of any robberies or purchases of ingredients for the brew. Then I can at least get a list of suspects. The next step is to follow with a lead I knew I could get answers out of: a potions expert from my Hogwarts days named Daniel Page.
Part V:
It could’ve been like any other dreary night at that dance club, The Page Turner, that housed distinguished witches and wizards of various professions in the wizarding world. This night, however, I was visiting. And I was on business. Whilst we go back to our first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, this is twenty years since that first meeting. He may have had a troubled family and Page may have done well for himself, but his family is behind the bars whilst he tends to his own bar. A piece of information that others are keen to remind him of, and that drove his business forward.
“I am here to see Mr. Page,” I began to speak to the guards outside the club doors, Cassius and Mike. They are good fellas but they take their job of protecting Daniel…a little too seriously. They let me in and I made my way to Mr. Page’s office.
“Detective, is that right these days?” Began Page, embracing me in a brotherly hug. “What could I grab for you, sport?”
“I got something rather rare,” I started. “Brewed in a charred barrel, distilled outside the 10th or 11th century. Perhaps you could sample it,” I raised my bag. Daniel checked and beckoned me into his office.
“I assume this is strictly confidential, as you went into the shrieking shack to find something?” Inquired the potions master turned club owner.
“Naturally,” I replied.
“After all these years you still causing trouble?”
“Preventing, this time…potentially,” I clarified.
I then showed him the necklace, he confirmed that it was indeed a necklace for housing wolfsbane potion but many of the vials are broken. He would go on to describe the nuances of werewolves and the intricacy of crafting the potions, so naturally someone would be extremely careful around these items.
“Why would a werewolf almost break these vials on a potion they took time and effort into crafting and preparing?”
“Perhaps there werewolf has recently been turned.” Theorized Page. “They got nervous and spilt?”
“It’s plausible,” I started. “I’ve never known a creature, human or otherwise, to behave in such a manner. What I do know is that the crafting on this necklace is not found among the inventory of your average clothing boutique,”
“Well we both know who has excellent fashion sense,” stated Page.
I stared somewhat reluctantly. “Too good of a fashion sense?”
Page nodded. We both then had a glass of his finest Irish whiskey on the rocks. “To Lady Vole,”
After downing the drink. I was about to head out before I heard Daniel speak up.
“How have you been?” Inquired Page.
“How do you mean?”
“You barely said a word after the reunion. Nobody heard from you and you up and all they get is that you changed from magizoologist to auror on a flick of a wand. What has happened since then-,”
“I must be off,” huffed myself, in a hurry. “Look for Consul, I’ll be in touch,” I then hustled into the night in pursuit of my next lead, Lady Vole.
Part VI:
In the past, Lady Vole was a delightful narcissist with an occasional mean streak in her. These days, she is working to get clean of her foul tendencies and build a fashion empire that spans both worlds without connections to the underworld of either. I enter her freshly scented parlor, to find her blonde hair and emerald eyes looking in a smug yet coy confidence but behind her beautiful surface she was happy to see me.
“Well, if it isn’t the Prince of Ravenclaw himself,” acknowledged the shop owner, Lady Vole.
I smirked as I retorted. “The Slytherin Queen,” at that moment a small puff of mist hit my face and shortly dissipated there after.
“That is for the smell of smoke and whiskey,” smirked Lady Vole. “Take it you have been down by the Page Turner club?”
“Indeed.”
“So this isn’t a social visit,” dismayed Lady Vole. “Very well then, what ever is the matter?”
I proceeded to show her the necklace I showed Daniel. “Do you recognize this design, by chance?”
“Why, no. A necklace designed for smuggling potions and brews isn’t something you normally find. Certainly not in my shops. Although I must say, this one is almost too similar to one used to curse a student during Voldemort’s rise a few decades ago,”
“So you are familiar with the design, even if you aren’t selling or crafting?”
Lady Vole gave a cold look. She nudged her head in one direction and proceeded to walk that way, I followed. She showed me her vast archives of fashion wear and materials from both muggle and wizarding worlds. She took me directly to the section I needed to look at but before she took a book down from the shelf, she kept the book in its place. “If I am to be blunt: you are not necessarily a member of law enforcement, so I don’t know why or how you came into possession of something like that smuggler’s medallion,”
“Firstly, I am acknowledged by the Ministry for my services in cracking down magical creature smuggling rings so think of me as a concerned citizen, with friends. Secondly, I am working a private case. As such I cannot tell you more than that,”
“We may have had our differences in the past,” stated Lady Vole. “Certainly when it came to tastes in friends. But this is now, and I do hope you find some better use of your spare time,”
I conjured a stern look. “That last lady to speak to me like that was-,”
“I know,” stated Lady Vole.
“The more I hear phrases such as “I deserve better,” the more I feel like I am going to continue being alone,” I continued to look at Lady Vole till she finally lowered the book. She noted that the triangular features were runespoor scales and obsidian. The chain’s materials were seemingly stainless steel from the muggle world. I proceeded to jot down that the person with this necklace was someone with ties to both the muggle world and the wizarding world. I then concluded with a note to remember to cross reference with known lycanthropes, however Lady Vole noticed.
“The wolves of Hogsmeade. THAT is your angle?!” She inquired.
“Listen, Cass. I cannot say for certain that a werewolf is even behind the attacks. What I can say is that it looks like someone is framing werewolves to some end. Please do not involve yourself further unless I ask,”
“Very well,” chuffed Cassandra. “One more thing: if you are going to wear a Qiviut lined coats, then don’t wear that one: it is ghastly to say the least,”
“Then might I make a personal commission?”
“On the house. As a way of thanking you for saving me from that one blast-ended skrewt,”
“Not that time we went to the tea shop for divination?”
Cassandra rolled her eyes. “You failed that class,”
“I haven’t failed again since,” I replied as I walked out the door. At this moment I felt something I haven’t felt in a long time. Something I haven’t felt since…the incident.
Part VII:
cues Lamento Della Ninfa (Castlevania Nocturne trailer cover)
The Incident. The moment that altered the trajectory of my life forever. This incident was a few years ago. At the ten year reunion of my Hogwarts Class. Myself and my beloved were dancing the halls and celebrating. She was an investigative journalist whilst I was a magizoologist. Our history goes back even further. A few weeks into our time at Hogwarts was when we first met: at dancing club. Our favorite dance was the Cloudstep Waltz, followed by the Puddifoot’s Steps and the First Encounter.
We were young when we first met and we were lucky to become school time sweethearts and blossom into fully fledged lover’s. She was a Gryffindor and an expert duelist whilst I was a Ravenclaw with a pension for Quidditch, dancing and occasionally dabbling in Dark Arts. She brought light into my life and I showed her to have self confidence. We complemented each other perfectly, but it would not last. By the night of the reunion, we were newly weds and soon to settle into our own home. However, that night we snook off to spend time skating on the then frozen Black Lake but we heard screams from the forbidden forest. My experience with magical creatures both great and small and her intuition made a perfect pairing for stepping into those haunted woods. We found ourselves fighting dark wizards that surrounded a thunderbird. Clearly part of a underground exchange from North America, and the wizards were clearly a problem. We managed to free the thunderbird and hold off the dark wizards. The error was that we split off. My love went and charged after one dark wizard, whilst I tended to the thunderbird for merely a moment. I left Consul with the thunderbird whilst I chased after my wife. It was too late, by the time I caught up, I saw the wizards surround her and used a port key to disappear with her. I watched her vanish before my very eyes. Every day since then, I blamed myself for encouraging her to be less insecure and to be more bold and confident. After that I left the field of magizoology, aside from keeping contact with my friend Shouren, and started working as a vigilante and private investigator so I could find the dark wizards responsible and bring them to justice. Merely a couple years before I was commissioned for this case I found the sluggers responsible and casted the cruciatus curse on each of them so they were subdued and handed over to the ministry to face justice. Since then I felt a void where my heart used to be and only recently has it recovered. My wife had not been seen since. I may have busted the odd magizoolology smuggling ring, bands of poachers and even remnants of the dark wizards that supported Voldemort in his return, but this is something new. This case is about is complicated as it gets, as there is yet to be a single suspect I can pinpoint for this. An animagus? Another beast? That lowlife karen who sells house elf dolls? I am not sure, as this case continues to be colder than the snow I walk through. Best return to camp and make sense of what I have so far…
We were young when we first met and we were lucky to become school time sweethearts and blossom into fully fledged lover’s. She was a Gryffindor and an expert duelist whilst I was a Ravenclaw with a pension for Quidditch, dancing and occasionally dabbling in Dark Arts. She brought light into my life and I showed her to have self confidence. We complemented each other perfectly, but it would not last. By the night of the reunion, we were newly weds and soon to settle into our own home. However, that night we snook off to spend time skating on the then frozen Black Lake but we heard screams from the forbidden forest. My experience with magical creatures both great and small and her intuition made a perfect pairing for stepping into those haunted woods. We found ourselves fighting dark wizards that surrounded a thunderbird. Clearly part of a underground exchange from North America, and the wizards were clearly a problem. We managed to free the thunderbird and hold off the dark wizards. The error was that we split off. My love went and charged after one dark wizard, whilst I tended to the thunderbird for merely a moment. I left Consul with the thunderbird whilst I chased after my wife. It was too late, by the time I caught up, I saw the wizards surround her and used a port key to disappear with her. I watched her vanish before my very eyes. Every day since then, I blamed myself for encouraging her to be less insecure and to be more bold and confident. After that I left the field of magizoology, aside from keeping contact with my friend Shouren, and started working as a vigilante and private investigator so I could find the dark wizards responsible and bring them to justice. Merely a couple years before I was commissioned for this case I found the sluggers responsible and casted the cruciatus curse on each of them so they were subdued and handed over to the ministry to face justice. Since then I felt a void where my heart used to be and only recently has it recovered. My wife had not been seen since. I may have busted the odd magizoolology smuggling ring, bands of poachers and even remnants of the dark wizards that supported Voldemort in his return, but this is something new. This case is about is complicated as it gets, as there is yet to be a single suspect I can pinpoint for this. An animagus? Another beast? That lowlife karen who sells house elf dolls? I am not sure, as this case continues to be colder than the snow I walk through. Best return to camp and make sense of what I have so far…
Part VIII:
Back at my makeshift headquarters, I received replies from my contacts via flock of owls. I return, compiled the evidence on a board and tried to cross reference it over a flask of scotch, a sandwich and some other snacks. There were quite a few places that have sold properties and ingredients that contributed to wolfsbane potion, and quite a few people with lycanthrope.
I spent weeks going through the evidence and records. Nearly all of the sales went to citizens that were werewolves but they all had upstanding records. Individual ingredient purchases I dismissed as such. It became clear to me that not a single lycanthrope that passed through Hogsmeade had anything to do with these attacks. This leads to one conclusion: someone is framing them, but who? And why?
My attempts to reach out to The Duke that commissioned this case so he may be updated have also gone cold. I cannot help but wonder: is this all a set up? Something about this case feels far from right yet also familiar. I cannot put my finger on it.
I went outside for a stroll to figure out what could this enigma factor be. I stepped outside the barrier that protected my encampment from sight, scent and sound when I heard what sounded like voices. I quickly downed a small vial of invisibility potion to mask my presence. I crouched and followed the sound. As I neared the epicenter, the sounds turned to conversation. He saw three figures. One tall and fit. Another small and dainty. Another was large.
“They could be onto us at any second. They could even bring HIM after us,” said the small one
“Potter is busy with other concerns right now. We are under the radar at present,” replied the tall and fit figure
“But someone else sent a PI to look into this operation,” stated the large figure
“He won’t be a problem anymore. I made sure of that, and nobody will ever find the body,” declared the fit figure.
I was shocked as he concealed himself in the bush. I may be under the effects of an invisibility potion but its effects are short lived.
“What about the PI?” Continued the larger individual.
“Myself and others planted evidence to make him believe that the incidents in Hogsmeade are something else, and if he does see through the facade and come after us, then we can set the trap and bump him off,”
“So continue as planned,” inquired the smaller figure.
“Yes. Sell the fangs through the market under The Page Turner. Then await further instructions,” ordered the tall figure.
Silently, I began to retreat as I heard the other figures apparate. I made it back to the tent as the potion’s effects had worn off. With my camp placed on the precipice of their organized criminal meet ups, I can now identify at least three people responsible for this rouse. But who are they? Only one way to find out: Back to The Page Turner.
Part IX:
I headed for the Page Turner, and informed our good friend Daniel about the upcoming deal. Page looked through his books and found nothing pertaining to the deal. As I saw some figures that looked suspiciously like the persons I saw the other night, I sneaked into the room and listened in as I hid and knocked back another invisibility potion. The meeting was hosted by a person in white but before I could see them, I saw that they were trading werewolf fangs as medicine to an unknown client. Then, after the buyers left, I kept quiet as Page himself walked in and shook hands with the man in white and asked if he had a pleasant meeting.
Page returned to his office where I confronted him.
“You have any idea what kind of trouble you are in?” I began. “You just did business with the people I warned you about,”
“What did they sell?” Inquired Page.
“Werewolf fangs,” I answered as I started getting rowdy. “You in six figures of trouble man. What were you thinking? You could have gone straight but now you are just helping the crooks get more money. You getting a cut of the money for hosting these meetings?”
“Relax,” started Page. “I won’t conduct business with them anymore,”
“Damn right you are, and be lucky I am your friend giving you a warning. Next time someone find you doing dirty business I won’t save you!” I yelled before I left the office. I chased the people out onto the streets but they were waiting for me. The white robed figure was gone. I drew my wand and fought them all off as best I could but they had the jump and I was injured. Before they could take me, one crook got bolted by a thunderstorm of some nature. Last thing I saw was the figures walking away and last I heard were the sounds of steps on cobblestone coming towards me before all went dark and cold, colder than the outside air and darker than the society we live in.
Part X:
Despite the vicious and ungentlemanly brawl, I came to. Of course I have no memory of the how I entered this lavishly organized room of materials. I looked around and deduced I was in a muggle parlor of some form. The only thing I didn’t notice was the new coat that was on me, as I only noticed it as I walked out of the room and saw a mirror. It felt the same as the one I had before, same material, same weight, but the coat was significantly more stylish.
“About time you woke up,” said a familiar voice. “It was getting difficult to explain why I had an unconscious idiot in my closet,” I turned to see it is my rather unpredictable friend, Cassandra.
“Well I had to sleep off that mugging. Plus in such a comfortable coat, sleeping felt that much more natural,” stated myself in coyness.
“You are welcome,” snarked Cassandra, in her usual, delightfully narcissistic tone.
“For which? The coat you obviously made or the rescue I suspect you of pulling off?”
“Both,” confirmed Cassandra.
“Why? You are now a liability in the case,”
“I am aware and we now have a common interest. The person you were foolish enough to arrest was also the kind of person that mislabels and mislabels materials,”
“So you rescued me not for old times sake but because the person could damage your business?”
“Perhaps,”
“So you know the identity of the person I was chasing?”
Cassandra paused, realizing she talked herself into a corner. “I do. Thanks to a mutual friend,”
“Daniel is already in enough trouble as it is,”
“I’m not talking about Daniel,”
“So who?”
“Meet in the basement at Hogs Head, tonight. And you will meet them, though I suggest a more…obscuring disguise. Keep them thinking you are out of the picture,”
This meeting was no other turn out. I had to enter not with my new attire, but with posh silk. The air was colder inside the Hog’s Head pub than the winter air outside of it was. The atmosphere was dark, the hall leading into the meeting area was the only well lit area in the entirety of this dark place. The people, oddly, were all cloaked as I was.
I looked around and found a seat. I helped myself and waited for this mystery contact of Lady Vole’s. Before long, a raven swooped in and perched on my armrest. “What is the Duke to the Prince,”
“How do you mean? And I take it you are the contact or rather an animagus?”
“Yes to the contact. No to the animagus. The Duke has asked the Prince for help in a personal quest, yet abandons the Prince? Doesn’t sound like a person worth being around, does it?”
“How do you know of the Duke?”
“We’ve been watching him from the shadows, Dear Prince,” whispered the shadowy raven. “We saw the deal at puddifoot’s. We know the prince worked hard to unravel what the task was. The Duke had left the prince when the prince reached for him,”
“So this was a set up,”
“It was, dear Prince. The Duke wants you to take the fall for the scheme and put you at the scenes of the crimes,”
“I will need evidence of these accusations, and stop calling me Prince. I haven’t heard that since-,”
A parcel dropped on my lap at that instant. I looked up to see a familiar face.
“Your sweet princess disappeared,” cooed the figure. “Take that and follow me outside,”
