The flaming figure had fled with the resounding sharp crack of apparition. As soon as her shop had been flooded by aurors it had fled, leaving her backed up in a corner and her shop licked by flames and filled with smoke.
Lucy was furious. Not just angry. Furious.
She’d taken it out on Scorpius Malfoy. Malfoy had instantly taken her statement and she’d been so irate that when he asked her what spell she had used on the fire-person, she had pulled out her wand and demonstrated it on him, hissed ‘Herbifors’ before she could really think about it, causing him to sprout white roses all over his skin. He had not been amused, and she supposed she was just lucky that she hadn’t been charged with attacking an auror.
Upon concluding taking her statement, he had promptly bundled her off to the auror department to get looked over by Albus while her Uncle Harry had taken control of her shop as a crime scene. Albus had sat her down on the table in his medical office and not let her move for the past hour.
Lucy fought back the urge to sigh deeply as Albus hovered around her like a worried mother hen, running diagnostic spells, wrapping a ridiculously large fluffy purple blanket tighter around her shoulders, asking questions she had already answered five times.
He had already run a whole battery of spells on her to cure the effects of smoke inhalation, treated her for shock, and given her a calming potion though she had attempted to insist irritably that she didn’t need it. He had shot her a withering look and she had meekly taken the potion.
Sometimes she wondered how on earth out of all her cousins, Albus was the one that reminded her most of their grandma Molly. It was downright disturbing at times.
“Albus, I’m fine.”
“Yeah, because normal people are completely fine after being attacked by Merlin-knows-what and having their shop set ablaze.” Albus snapped back at her.
“It was obviously a witch or wizard since it could apparate. Or an overgrown house elf. Or a house elf with a glamour charm. Okay, it’s Merlin-knows-what. Anyway, it hardly matters. I’m a Weasley. We don’t do normal.” She said with a grimace, attempting to tug off the blanket he had well and truly wrapped tightly around her.
She wondered briefly if he had perhaps placed a spell on it so that she couldn’t escape. It was just the kind of thing both he and Grandma Molly would do.
“We also don’t do illegal flying carpets.”
“Who says I do illegal flying carpets?” She hissed, still fighting with the fluffy purple blanket.
Definitely charmed, this wasn’t normal, she was sure the more she fought the tighter the blanket was getting. Albus was pretending he didn’t notice her struggling, sorting through some potions in one of the cupboards, peering at labels.
“I saw them in Scorpius’ office. He says he took them as evidence from your shop.”
Lucy cursed loudly.
“We also don’t use language like that!” Albus exclaimed, covering his ears with his hands.
“Don’t you have anything better to do? Like looking at dead bodies?” Lucy asked scowling at him as she gave up her battle with the blanket.
Her scowl was matched by Albus who removed his hands from his ears. “I’m a healer damn it, not in forensics.”
“Doesn’t matter, everyone knows you’re a natural at it.” Lucy replied with a shrug.
“Shut up or I’ll pour more potions down your throat.” Albus threatened, holding up a particularly awful looking orange one.
Lucy mimed zipping her lips shut.
“Good. Now be a good girl while I go look at dead bodies in the basement.” Albus said, his scowl deepening at the mere thought of the forensics department.
“I can’t freaking move you idiot.” Lucy hissed, narrowing her eyes at him as she tried to kick him in the shins.
Albus just dancing out of her way, his eyes twinkling in a very Dumbldoresque fashion.
“I know. Best way to keep you out of trouble in my opinion.” He replied, before leaving her to vent her frustration alone in the medical office.
Scorpius was sitting in his and Milly’s office, his long legs flung up onto the table, slouched deeply in his chair, reading through Lucy Weasley’s statement. Repeatedly. His skin was still itching from the spell she had used on him to make those damn white roses sprout out his skin, even though Eliza had quickly removed them when he returned to the auror department, trying not to laugh while she did it.
Quenwood. The fire-thing had asked her about quenwood. Was this related to Fitz Rosier’s death, or was it just coincidence? Not a coincidence. He didn’t believe in coincidences. Rarely was the universe that lazy.
“Getting anywhere with that?” Milly asked looking up from the data she was studying, attempting to decide who to call in for questioning about their theatrical murders.
Scorpius pursed his lips thoughtfully.
“I they're their linked. The attack on Weasley’s shop and the murders of Fitz Rosier and Amycus Carrow. Objects found at the scenes link to her shop. And then this fire-thing asks Weasley what she knows about quenwood. An extremely rare drug, taken by Fitz Rosier. But if this fire-thing is involved with the murders why is there nothing suggesting that at the murder scenes? No charring, no burning. Obviously theres some kind of powerful magic going on there. And I still don’t get how anyone could sneak a murder into both the ministry and Azkaban. They're awfully bold.” Scorpius said in frustration, dragging a hand through his hair.
Albus burst into Scorpius and Milly’s office, the door banging open and bouncing off the wall on its hinges, causing both Scorpius and Milly to look at him in surprise.
“Quenwood! Amycus Carrow was a quenwood addict.” Albus huffed, his hands on his knees, attempting to catch his breath after having run all the way from the forensics in the basement.
Scorpius cursed loudly scrambling up out of his seat ungracefully.
“Which means someone has been supplying him with quenwood in the prison, not to mention wine to mix it with, and someone’s been turning a blind eye to it.” Albus continued, still trying to breathe somewhat normally.
“Milly, we’re going to have to quiz all the guards at Azkaban.” Scorpius said quietly, watching as she added it to the list she’d been compiling as he stuffed Lucy Weasley’s statement into his files.
Milly rolled her eyes. “Well I suppose I had nothing better to do after all.” She said sarcastically “I’ll floo-call Azkaban and arrange it now. You need to go quiz Lucy to ask about the candlestick and this ridiculous quenwood business.”
Albus grinned. "She's still in my medical office."
“Lilykins, wanna’ abandon your post and play scribe?” Scorpius asked, leaning on Lily’s desk with what he hoped was an adorable puppy-dog face.
Not that the puppy-dog face worked on Lily. Never had as a matter of fact. The first he’d done it she’d laughed so hard she’d snorted like a pig. She’d been ten, and he’d thought he’d been pretty cool at twelve. He had however before than never heard a girl snort like a pig. He had stared at her as though she had grown three extra heads. That was when he’d adopted Lily Luna Potter as his own little sister.
Sometimes he wondered if the puppy-dog face only worked on Slytherins, because only his mother, grandmother and girls in his own house seemed to fall for it.
“You don’t have any minions to do your scribing?” Lily asked with a grin, already opening her drawer to grab parchment and quill and shooting an apologetic smile at their other secretary Wesley who waved her off with a grin.
“But Lilykin’s, you’re my favourite minion.” Scorpius drawled.
Lily grinned and smacked him upside the head. “Minion my arse.”
“Such language in such a pretty mouth!” Scorpius exclaimed in mock shock, walking towards the medical offices.
“Who are we cross-examining?” Lily asked excitedly, matching each of his long strides with two steps of her own.
“Your cousin.” He replied.
“The red-haired one.”
Lily scowled reminding him awfully much of Albus, absentmindedly tugging on a lock of her own red hair. “Very funny.”
“Lucy Weasley.” Scorpius confessed, opening the medical office and holding the door open for Lily.
Scorpius had to admit he was somewhat surprised when he saw that Lucy Weasley was wrapped tightly in a large fluffy purple blanket. Lily took it all in stride and settled herself comfortably; quill soon poised over parchment, as though the fluffy purple blanket was nothing.
“Why are you wrapped in a blanket?” Scorpius asked, looking at Lucy in surprise.
She took it all in her stride, that polite disinterest on her face, as though it were perfectly normal for her to sit there wrapped up tight in a blanket. Perhaps it was, who was he to know what odd quirks Lucy Weasley had? Lily hadn’t commented on it.
“It’s for shock apparently.” Lucy said coolly.
“Are you in shock?” Scorpius asked, taking the seat across from her, peering at her intently.
Not an odd quirk then. She didn’t look like she was in shock. Or sound like it for that matter.
“Not as far as I am aware. You may inform Albus of that fact.”
Ah. That explained it. Lily snorted, and Scorpius couldn’t help grinning. Lily Potter’s snorts were hilarious in his opinion. Albus was playing mother hen to his cousins again. Scorpius wondered if they ever cursed the day that Albus had become a healer. All one of his cousins had to do was sneeze and he would descend upon them with bright-coloured, foul-tasting potions. And large fluffy purple blankets apparently.
“You are welcome to remove it now Miss Weasley.”
“That’s very kind of you. I’m afraid I can’t.” Lucy replied primly, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.
“If you are cold we can turn the heating up.”
“I mean I can’t. Albus charmed it.”
Her calm façade was cracking slightly. Lily was trying very hard not to snort with laughter. Scorpius was certain he could see the hint of a scowl on Lucy’s face. He was terribly familiar with that Weasley scowl. Both Albus, Lily and Rose used it liberally.
He was beginning to think it was as much a Potter-Granger-Weasley trademark as the Malfoy smirk. He was also beginning to think that the only thing that cracked Lucy Weasley’s cool calm was her cousins. To be fair, he’d given up on it around them long ago.
“I see.” Scorpius replied behind a vague smile, trying not to laugh, focussing on folding his hands on the table in front of him, on top of his folder.
“You could remove it.” Lucy suggested, vaguely gesturing (as well as she could wrapped up like a mummy) towards his wand in his robes.
Lily moved to get out her hand, but Scorpius held up his hand, stopping her.
“I believe this is infinitely more amusing.” Plus there was the advantage that this way she couldn’t pull out her wand on him. “It’s quite simple Miss Weasley. We have two murders on our hands, with staged weapons. The weapons both come from your shop.”
Lucy snorted. “Well that was stupid. If I was going to kill several people, I’d shop around a bit.”
Scorpius could hear Albus sniggering in his head. He found it mildly disturbing that the voice of his conscience belonged to Albus Potter. He’d rather not analyse that fact right now.
“So what actually killed them?” She asked.
“Tea according to Albus.” Scorpius replied offhandedly as he opened up his file and pulled out photos of the dagger and the candlestick, courtesy of Gustav Whitehorn, and placed them both facing Lucy.
“Yes Miss Weasley. We have a serial killer wandering around London, offing people with perfectly good British tea.” Scorpius replied, only able to keep his face straight because it was actually true.
“I see. Well I’m glad I haven’t been offered any then.”
“I’m afraid they weren’t offered it politely. Miss Weasley, tell me, what do you know about quenwood?” Scorpius asked, quill poised over parchment to take notes.
“I don’t sell it.” She snapped coldly.
“I didn’t suggest you did.” He replied. Obviously she knew what it was. Interesting.
“I’ve been asked to. I declined. I’m not interested in illegal drugs. Especially not illegal drugs like quenwood.”
Ah, that would explain how she knew what it was. Lucy Weasley was gradually becoming more and more interesting in his opinion.
“So you know quenwood dealers?”
“I know of quenwood dealers, I avoid acquaintances with such people. But I know of them only by alias, not their real name. They’ve only ever sent a go-between to my shop. The go-between is a young woman called Gwyn. The Dealer is known in Knockton Alley as ‘Clue’.” Lucy replied.
“That’s what I’ve heard. All that I’ve heard. I tend to not delve into those kinds of things so deeply.”
“But you do deal in flying carpets.” Scorpius couldn’t help but say with a smirk.
“They’re antique carpets. They don’t fly. You’re welcome to test them. And then you may return them.” Lucy said.
“Yes your majesty.” Scorpius quipped with a smirk.
Scorpius was certain that no one could do regal haughtiness wrapped like a mummy in a blanket quite like Lucy Weasley could. He wondered if she’d taken lessons from his grandmother or if it just came naturally to her.
“This candlestick. Do you recognise it?”
“I sold it from my shop seven months ago. As a pair. To Fitz Rosier’s sister, Yelena Rosier. I understand she recently passed away at St. Mongos due to heart complications. I assume her brother inherited them as she had no husband or children.” Lucy informed him.
“You know a great deal about her.” Scorpius said, looking at her intently, the scratching of Lily’s quill in the background as she took notes.
“She was a returning customer. Interested in antiques. Had a particular interest in dinnerware, plates, jugs, serving bowls, candlesticks, cutlery, that sort of thing.”
Scorpius sat in silence for a moment, staring at Lucy’s large brown eyes thoughtfully.
“Anything special about the candlestick? Like not actually being able to kill people?” He asked at last.
“No spells or charms. Yelena Rosier had a strict aversion to charmed objects. I believe she had some bad experiences with hexed objects during the war. She mentioned it once, but never expanded on it. It’s medieval. This one bears the shield of Juliana of Brid and its partner the shield of Graeme of Thwing. They are the earliest recorded evidence of them. They come from an old legend, a witch and a wizard who lived in the northeast of England. According to the legend Graeme was attacked by a coven of vampires and turned into a vampire himself. In order to save everyone Juliana stabbed him in the heart herself and turned herself into a raven. They were a popular symbol of sacrifice for the greater good.” Lucy explained.
Lily’s quill scratched frantically, writing all that Lucy said. Scorpius dropped his gaze from Lucy’s eyes to the photo of the candlestick.
“So Amycus Carrow was bludgeoned by Juliana of Brid?” Scorpius said at last.
“So it would seem.” Lucy said, inclining her head politely, her eyes darting to the photo of the candlestick.
“Sacrifice for the greater good. How symbolic.” Scorpius figured many felt that murdered Amycus Carrow was certainly for the greater good. But what greater good did their theatrical murderer believe they were working towards?
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