Hunting down a barista?
This night isn’t silent, it’s filled with loud noise in form of excited laughter.
The sleeping city’s quiet is replaced with reffing engines of illegally modified cars, Britney Spears voice’ blasting from cheap speakers (which cling to life with an impressive will) and the sound of a dying man begging for his life.
James doesn’t know of the last listed, he only knows the thrill of the place he’s at. The air tastes dry and frizzy in his mouth, energy is pulsing through his veins and a wide grin, that show off his dimples, is playing on his face.
The twenty-one year old man pushes through the crowd, greeting familiar faces with a one arm hug and charming unfamiliar ones with a cheeky wink. The only thing on his mind is to get to his vehicle. A piece of art, that even his father would scold him for mistreating with these kind of street-races; a McLaren Senna GTR.
One of the most rare cars, or so Peter claimed once James first got his ‘Lion’. The Potter himself isn’t too keen on knowledge about what he’s driving and how special it is. To him, the worth is defined by how fun to drive the car is and how many races he’ll win with it.
“Prongs!”, a voice calls. Sirius, James recognises before even turning. “Over here!” His best friend yells with effort, he’s almost completely drowned out by the voices around them. James wouldn’t have noticed him if he wasn’t his brother.
He walks over and raises his eyebrows at what the other is wearing, a cropped shirt of their band merch. James concludes Sirius and Marlene got together again to try out some new sewing technique Dorcas told them about.
“Don’t look at me like that, Jamie. I’ll blush!” Sirius sighs theatrically, laying an arm loosely around James’ shoulder. After a shared boyish smirk, he speaks up again, “Where have you been? I had to beg Trelawny to delay the race for you, I’m pretty sure she was about to strangle me. So, just you know, you owe me one.”
“Sybill?” James scoffs out in a chuckle, then dismisses Sirius silly concerns. “No risk there, Pads. And I don’t think it’s countable as a favour when I know you hardly had to twirl a strand of hair between your fingers to get her to do that.”
His best friend only shrugs his shoulders and mutters, “Not my fault I’ve got pretty privilege.” His eyes follow a guy, carrying two beers, passing them. It takes him a few moments to focus his eyes on James again and as he does, James notices Sirius’ dilated pupils.
“Hey, Jamie? How about we get ready for the race now?” The Black says after clearing his throat and training his gaze to the floor.
James steps towards him and rests a comforting hand on his shoulder, a reminder of a promise made long ago. “I think it’d be best if you sit this one out.”
“I can do it.”
“I know you can.”
Sirius sighs, “You behave like you’re my mother.” He rolls his eyes, but makes no move to push off the other’s hand.
James does his best to appear offended and puts a hand to his heart, “How dare you? I’m younger than you! And more good looking than your mom.”
“Prongs, you never met my Mère.” Sirius argues, his face twisted into a grimace at the image of his birthmother.
“No,” the younger (by two and a half months, thank you) replies slowly, “but I’m sure she’s ugly.” He nods his head with a satisfied grin at his comment.
If James had said this about anyone else’s mother, he’s sure he’d be pleading for forgiveness now, since his parents raised him well. However, he does believe if anyone deserves to be talked about badly, it’s Walburga Black.
Despite being a convicted criminal, the worst thing James found out about her is her abusiveness towards her own son. Ranging from emotional neglect to things James gets sick from just thinking about.
Sirius glares at him with a sense of matureness that doesn’t match him, it has James shortly questioning whether the topic of his family is still a too fresh wound to joke about. Then Sirius laughs again, James quickly joins in.
While he isn’t sure if his brother is simply energetic because of his current mania episode or if he’s really healed enough to talk about the topic without throwing up, the desi man is thrilled to see Padfoot be happy.
James hopes it’ll stay this way.
“For that comment, she’d have literally cut your throat. I’m not even kidding.” Sirius gasps for air, tugging James into a sloppy embrace. “That was actually such a weak reply from you, it’s sad. Pitiful. You used to be so sassy and have the most creative insults! Where’s that now?” His eyes soften and a tired smile, with no sharp edges (which is very un-Sirius) grows on his face.
“Still there, don’t you worry. But exam’s are taking the fire out of me lately.” James tells, swallowing as he steps out of the hug.
Moments of meaningful silence pass until it’s broken.
“Well better light that fire back on; burn your soul if you must!” The booming voice of Barty Crouch Junior rings in the ears of the two friends, as they part completely. “Because, I’m having a fun race today. And there’s no fun in racing if there isn’t a Potter to upset.”
James was so glad when Peter finally broke things off with Barty and every time the guy opens his mouth, James is a little happier about it.
“Piss off to Snivelus and Mulciber, Barty. We’ve got better things to do than listening to your desperate attempts at getting our attention.” Sirius rages, already annoyed with the rival biker.
A look of disgust reaches Barty’s face, “You mean the stalker and the pedophile? How low exactly do you think of me?” James is a bit surprised he wasn’t upset at what Sirius said about him in particular, though he isn’t one to complain about sidestepping trouble.
“You tried to set me on fire.” Gilderoy, a driver who craves drama like a flower craves the sun, claims catching up to the three talking. It’s only then that James notices the crowd has parted and formed around them.
Barty rolls his eyes, “That’s ages ago!”
“Two weeks ago, you crashed your bike into my one on purpose. I could’ve died, motherfucker!” Sirius yells, his fists clenched and James barely manages to hold him back.
“So? You were taking shortcuts, that’s unfair racing.” The most despised driver (next to Gilderoy, for reasons, James dislikes to mention since most are too similar attributes of his own for his peace of mind) defends.
“You did the exact same thing.” Sirius growls, shoving a finger into Barty’s face like it’s a gun.
“Maybe,” Barty narrows his eyes, “but at least I wasn’t under the influence.”
Sirius’ face falls and gasps erupt from the people around like it’s the most important piece of information they’ve heard being kept from them. Before James can register, Sirius is gone and only worry is left behind as a reminder of what was and could be.
“Another word, and you’re dead, Crouch.” James promises Barty before running off towards a randomly chosen direction to find Sirius.
His mind is stressing, he’s learned many things in college about the human brain, about coping mechanisms and habits as natural behaviour. James isn’t that much over-average IQ but he knows his best friend well enough to know during his episodes none of these things are going to be useful with finding Sirius.
One corner around, the drink-station is filled with people. But none of them are Sirius.
Passing all cars and bikes, drivers are staring into nothingness waiting for the delayed race to start, as all eager for the price money. James searches for his brother, hope slowly yet surely being crushed with every person he sees that’s not Padfoot.
As he whips his head around, overwhelmed with concern, he bumps right into someone and spills their drink all over them. He looks up at said unfortunate person and realises it’s Dorcas, Marlene’s —the lead singer of his band— girlfriend.
“Oh, sorry, Cas. I wasn’t looking ‘cause I’m-”
Dorcas interrupts him, “Trying to find Sirius?” She finishes for him with a chuckle.
While James fumbles for finding a tissue in the inside of his brown leather jacket, he keeps glancing at her gingerly. “Exactly. How’d you know?”
“You’re nervous; your left eye keeps twitching and your voice is trembling a bit, that happens every time something’s wrong with Sirius.” She explains calmly. “Also, rumours travel fast on these events. About ten minutes after your little incident with Barty, everyone here knew.” A smile cracks on her face.
The curly haired man groans, “That’s just perfect.” He hands her a tissue after finally having found one in the depts of his pockets, “Have you seen him?”
“I’m pretty sure he ran that way,”, Dorcas points out the direction for James, cleaning with the other hand the remains of her spilled water. “But James? I think it would be better to leave him for a bit, knowing him, silence helps best.”
“Clearly you don’t know him well.” James snaps before he can realise. The moment he catches the expression of slight shock on the black woman’s face, he runs a hand along his mouth to gather himself. “Listen, I know you mean good. I appreciate it.”
“But you don’t have the nerve to handle any interaction right now?”
“Yes!” He claps his hands together, grateful Dorcas immediately was able to put into words what he meant to express.
For a few seconds, she stares at him quietly. Then a sigh leaves her lips, it reminds James of his mom whenever he admits to having done something stupid. “You two are so codependent, I don’t know if I want a connection like it or teach the both of you about independence of the self.”
“You know you love us, Dorcas.” James grins widely.
Cas clicks her tongue, “I’m only putting up with you because I don’t have the heart to tell Marls to get new friends.” With that, she pushes him off (in a playful manner, James guesses, though he’s never sure with Dorcas, since her sarcasm is almost undetectable) and James struts into the direction she told him Sirius has gone.
A bad feeling creeps up James’ spine as he walks into the dark alley, a whole block away from the race location. It’s silent, so silent he almost forgets about the volume from earlier. He’s not sure how that’s possible, but he doesn’t care to actively think about it. His only goal, his only thought, is to find his friend.
There’s a car at he end of the foggy alley his what grabs his attention, it’s not any car, it’s the one of Severus Snape. Sirius’ arch-nemesis for almost two years now and the one he despises most in the universe (next to killers, rapists, pedophiles, stalkers, his family.. it’s a long list), the one person James knows would never dare to park his precious in a dirty spot like this.
“Hello?”, James calls hesitantly, cautiously nearing the vehicle that’s (almost, Snivelus luckily never managed to do any real damage apart from scrapes) crashed into his own many times. “Snape?”
“Jamie, please help.” The voice of Sirius chokes out, James is by his side in the matter of seconds. What he has to see, steals any air from his lungs. Blood clings to Sirius’ hands as they shake over the body of Severus, lying on the floor unmoving. “I- I didn’t do it, I swear. I found him and I tried- I tried to help! But he’s dead.” The black haired man cries out with a sob.
Subconsciously, James takes a step back. His eyes are wide and his skin pales at the sight of the corpse and the blood on Sirius.
It’s all over him, on his hands, on his white button up and smeared over his mouth and cheeks. His eyes are painted with fear, if it’s fear of judgement or fear of imprisonment, James is uncertain.
He really shouldn’t be, this is Sirius, his best friend. His brother. And despite that he asks, “What did you do?” It’s a whisper, yet in his friend’s ears it echoes like a scream.
“I didn’t do it, I didn’t do anything.” He sobs, softly pushing Severus Snape away and stumbling as he stands up. “James, please! I didn’t- I swear, I’m not like them. I’m not like them.”
James’ heart aches with guilt, how could he ever have believed Sirius capable of murder? He feels dumb and confused and scared. Sirius seems terrified to his bones, still there is recognition visible in his eyes, James wonders if this isn’t his first time finding a dead person.
No more breath is wasted, before James hurries to drag Sirius into his arms and comfort him.
“You didn’t see anything, neither did I. We’re going home now and wash that blood off of you, I’ll get my car, you wait here.” James instructs breathing in deeply, his eyebrows furrowed while his eyes keep drifting back to the body of his rival again and again. “If anyone asks what happened tonight, it’s that you had a nerve breakdown, it’s likely anyway.” James continues to assure as he guides Sirius away from the crime scene.
“I’m scared.” The Black whispers, halting suddenly. “They all already think I’m a criminal, a fuck up, just like the rest of my family. If this gets out..”
“It won’t.” James promises and never ever has he wanted to be religious this bad before. He’d pray to any god for mercy on his brother, for a future Sirius deserves.
James may be the son of a family coming from old money, he may have privileges that a boy in his age (or anyone for that matter) shouldn’t have, yet it’s all nothing to him. It’s nothing worth if the ones he loves aren’t happy, and maybe this proves Dorcas right. Probably James is dependant on family. He’s dependant on Sirius, and Sirius is dependant on him. But they are brothers by choice, James doesn’t think there’s anything more convincing to believe in than that love.
“We’ll be okay.” He doesn’t know who he is trying to convince.
The office isn’t loud, it’s peaceful, contradicting the type of profession Lily has.
Of course, there’s a bit of chattering here and there, a few calls of potential cases being answered and pens scribbling on papers to undo the mountains of work on everyone’s desks, still, it’s nice. Less noise than one would expect from an FBI unit dealing with serial killers.
Again, like for the last half hour, she lands her stamp on another file report of a past case. Her mind is distracted by the wish of finally getting home and having a good night of sleep, which would take a miracle to happen.
A yawn slips past her lips the same moment her cellphone rings, she stops mid stretch and reaches into the pockets of her cargo pants until she finds it. Lily is bemused; she’s certain she told her friends and family not to call her during work hours.
She dismisses the thought that it could be a commercial company, she’d asked Evan months ago to block those permanently from her mobile.
As the caller ID spells the name of her mother, she sighs and answers. Opposite of her desk, Pandora smiles at her reassuringly, as if she knows exactly that Lily worries to annoy her, then continued working on her own tasks (which, at the look of things, are purifying the office with her ‘enchanted’ scent candles. Lily used to be scared the place would burn down because of Dora. She still is, but trusts her girlfriend enough to put out a fire now.)
“Mum? Didn’t I tell you not to call when I have work?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, honey. I just thought you should know that Severus has been murdered!” Gemma Evans yells upset. “You are CIA, maybe you can find the killer. His dad is hoping so.” She says more calmly.
Lily sits ups straight in her chair, “I’m FBI, not CIA. And who’s Severus, anyway?”
Her mother gasps, and she can perfectly imagine the insulted expression on her mother’s face. “Severus Snape, your friend. You two used to be attached by the hips back in primary school!”
The redhead FBI agent’s eyes widen in realisation and her brows furrow into a grimace. “I think I know who you mean.” She nods, ignorant of the fact the other woman wouldn’t see it. “A murder you say? Are you sure?”
“His father told me he had 12 stab wounds in the abdomen.”
“Okay, proves it.” Lily sighs again and slumps back in her chair. “You’re aware I’m on another continent, right? I can’t do anything for you unfortunately, Britain is out of my department.”
“He lived in North America, went to a university there.” Gemma Evans rushes to proclaim. “Just look into it, Lils, he was such a sweet boy and deserves to rest in peace.”
Lily feels her left eye twitch, sleep deprivation from the last case —a pedophile kidnapper— catching up to her with this new case. Her eyes wander around the room and eventually land on Pandora again, who’s sternly looking at her in a way she can only understand as command to look into Severus death.
“Fine.”
“I knew you’d understand! Okay, I’ve got to go now, Bernadette and me are going to see a musical. Goodbye, honey, I love you!” Her mother says and ends the call without leaving Lily any time to speak again.
“Love you to…”, she groans, “mum.”
“Are you okay?” Pandora exchanges a few concerned glances, seemingly finished with her (witch) craft.
“I’m fine, Panda. Just got a new case for the team probably.” Lily attempts to crack a smile, though the result is more a grimace than anything. “Anyway, what were you doing?”
“Cleansing the place of evil spirits.”
“Like ghosts?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, ghosts are peaceful, Lily. With evil spirits I mean the demons!” The platinum blonde girl scolds, waving around her arms to motion around.
“And the demons are?” Lily asks, shooting her girlfriend with question after question. It is the most of a conversation they had this day, since Longbottom is determined to keep them apart, or with his words, focused.
Pandora takes a deep breath and leans forwards, a little tug upwards of her lips keeping her partner’s attention from moving away. “Their the manifested karma of everyone’s bad thoughts. Every idea, intrusive or not, that’s negative, manifests in some way.” She explains and Lily almost forgets, that what she’s saying isn’t reality. “For example, remember when Reggie argued with Evan this morning? Later on he burned his tongue with hot coffee, which proves he definitely was wishing against Ev’s wellbeing.”
Lily isn’t proud to admit she doesn’t comprehend a word coming out of Dora’s mouth ever since the light from the window hit just the right angle to frame her like an angelic being.
Her almost white braids hang loosely on her shoulders, painted golden by the sun. Her dark skin, rich of colour, contrasts the paint of her hair in a manner Lily describes as ethereal in her mind. The magenta jacket, matching the crystal earrings, matching the skirt, is absolutely lovely with her white shirt and shoes. The self-made fingerless gloves, the rainbow beads attached to her necklace (the necklace Lily gifted her for Christmas) and the enchanting laugh.
Oh, Lily is sure of it; the world could be ending and all she would know is the curve of Pandora’s lips when she smiles.
“Are you still listening Lils?” Pandora requests to know, tapping a pen carefully against the redheads cheeks.
“How about we go out tonight? It’s been a while.” Lily offers, awkwardly positioning herself against her table so she can hold her lover’s hands. A grin —of which she knows nothing— is engraved into her face as soon as Pandora nods.
The grin fades when Pandora pulls her hands away and looks down at papers she hasn’t touched the whole day, pretending to look them through.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to reschedule, Lily.” Frank’s voice makes her spin around with her chair to face him. “Dorcas just called. A third murder happened, and now we finally have a lead to follow.”
Both Pandora and Lily immediately jump from their seats, latter mourns already for the loss of a romantic dinner.
The conference room is agony for Remus’ ears.
While he is proud of his team and how social they’ve grown to be, he hates that all of them can’t keep their mouth shut for more than two minutes. Apart from maybe Regulus.
Although, he has to note, Lily doesn’t look quite as alive as she should, with her pale skin paler than usual and frown sitting deeper than ever, but he doesn’t have to guess to know it’s their last case still gnawing on her. He saw first hand how shaken up she was by the kidnapping and sexual abuse of the two teenage sisters. It didn’t help that one of them had the name Petunia, like her own sister.
Standing beside him is Frank Longbottom, his boss and colleague, even a friend during after work hours (Remus isn’t sure if that’s a one sided view, still he likes to think he has more friends than Lily and Regulus). Said lawyer of the FBI unit, the YAU (Youth Analyses Unit), is currently busy with telling Evan to search out the files about their case.
Evan grumbles yet complies without uttering more than a single curse, which is a miracle, since the male Rosier twin adores swear words and isn’t afraid to show his love for them by mentioning them in any sentence. Remus is certain the last job has impacted him too, hence why the change in behaviour.
Remus is glad he didn’t have to see the pictures Evan did.
“Evan, please. ” Frank massages his forehead, with shoulders tense and Remus clearly notices the way his breathing is controlled.
“Oh fuck off, Frank, I’ve got it all covered. It’s taking longer because you’re bad at organising your PC.” Evan shuts him up and displays the files on the wall with some sort of projector (Remus isn’t really good with technology things and while he does know how to do what he must for work on his devices, he refuses to learn any further).
The tall leader of the team pretends he didn’t hear Rosier’s comment and clears his throat to explain the situation to the group.
“There’s been a third murder at Hogwarts University this month, the victim this time has been a 21 year old boy named Severus Snape. Cause of death was a screwdriver into the spleen, internal bleeding. He was unconscious after about half an hour later and died at 11.40pm.” Longbottom tells, using a remote to switch between pictures. The first one is of Severus Snape college ID card, the second one of his corpse at the crime scene.
“How come nobody heard him? He must’ve screamed out his lungs for help.” Remus questions, furrowing his brows at the brutish stab wounds shown in the images.
“That’s the problem,”, Frank sighs, “the local police isn’t sure. Usually the region is full of people, so they should’ve heard.”
Regulus points at the car in the picture of the crime scene, “Was the body moved then?”
“Dorcas is checking, she said she’ll let us know.” Evan states after a minute, Remus hadn’t noticed that he’d pulled out his phone to text the undercover agent. He too, is tired more than he’d like to admit.
“Good.” Frank nods.
“Fingerprints?” Pandora checks. “Any other clues? Hair? Perfume?”
Lily scoffs as she looks at the papers from Frank, “Nothing. Just like the Prewett’s murders, the killer left nothing behind to identify them.” She slides the file back towards Frank and Remus, Remus doesn’t hesitate to pick it up and look at the information himself.
As his eyes fly over the text, they stay stuck in a interesting difference from the other murders.
“But they left something just as useful behind,” he exclaims, looking up again. “In the inside of the drivers door is an interesting thing engraved. I quote, ‘When he lies, he speaks his native language, for he is a liar and the father of lies.’ That’s enough to finish a profile about our killer.”
“So whoever did the murder was seeking revenge?” Evan inquires, rolling his head repeatedly right and left. Remus almost finds it disturbing how apathetic he looks.
“Murders.” Regulus corrects sharply.
Pandora leans forward in her seat, her arms pressed against the round table. “You think it’s the same killer?”
“It’s the same procedure, a sharp object used to stab into the abdomen. Unless we’ve got a fan imitator already, chances are high it’s the same person.”
“Reg is right.” Remus gathers the attention of everyone by raising his voice in an authoritative manner. “It’s probably a serial killer. And by analysing the pattern, it’s obvious that whoever did this is punishing with their acts of violence. I’m guessing there’s a personal connection between victims and killer; Evan?”
“On it.”
After a few minutes, Regulus is voicing his thoughts once again. “The engraved text is a line from the bible.” Remus is again reminded of the Black’s eidetic memory and silently thanks the universe for it.
“So it’s based upon belief. Good job, Black.” Frank says, nodding at mentioned man. “Look into the line and find as many context clues you can.” He instructs and without another word, Regulus stands up and rushes out of the room (likely to the next library, since he is a strict atheist and therefore doesn’t own a bible or anything of the sort).
Remus notices the tension in the room. “Have we been handed the case already?”
“I’ve phoned the police before the meeting, they’re willing to give it up.” Lily clears up, a hand slightly lifted to get Remus focus.
“Phone them again. Tell them we’ll take it.”
Lily nods, pulls out her phone and leaves the meeting.
“I’ll tell Xenophilius to get the jet ready.” Pandora calls over her shoulder, following her girlfriend out.
Remus releases a deep breath of relief, which turns into a small coughing fit.
Frank laughs. “I think it’d be best if on the flight you’ll get a bit of sleep, you look sick as hell Rem.”
“It’s just a cold, consequence of bad immune system.” The scarred man replies grudgingly. “But you’re right, I think it’d be good.” He adds quickly, “For the whole team.”
The Longbottom only smiles, “Sure.”
Evan, who Remus admittedly had forgotten as a presence, yawns, “Do I have to come along?”
“Yes.” Frank answers.
“Again? But why? I can do all technology things from here, I’ve got my equipment here.”
“I know, but you’re always staying inside your tech room.”
Evan scoffs, “You behave childish.”
“Maybe. You’re still coming.” Frank gives a sweet faux smile.
“Fuckhead.” Evan groans, packing up Frank’s computer.
“Watch it!” Frank shouts as the ruder Rosier twin walks off.
“Yes, dad!” The blond man yells back as he flips his boss off.
Remus feels a soft smile build on his face, for someone whose only relative left alive is his mother, he’s got a lot of family.
The atmosphere in Hogwarts University is tense.
People in the hallways (including teachers) are whispering and gossiping, paranoia is a permanent resident in the eyes of everyone in town and questions are clinging to the insides of Peter’s lips.
He isn’t sure why he’s lined up in front of Dumbledore’s office with other students, or more specifically, people who’ve been to the race the night Snape died. Marlene, Narcissa Black, Molly Prewett and even Wulfric Mulciber. Is he a suspect? Or just another of the many witnesses who didn’t see anything?
“Sorry, thanks. I’m just gonna.. slip right through. Nice.”
Peter recognises that voice.
“Oh! Pete! Didn’t see you there.”
He despises that voice, actually.
“Hi Gilderoy.” Peter greets, a smile forcefully stretching across his face. “Don’t you have to wait in line? Like everyone else?” Passive aggressively, he says it, but that hair bleached idiot doesn’t get it.
Lockhart waves him off, a trained winning smile glued to his features. “I’m sure it’s not that big of a deal, the teachers love me too much to say anything.”
“I’m sure that’s the reason why they don’t address it.” Peter tells him sarcastically, an awkward chuckle attached to his mean comment.
That fake blond, good smelling, bad driving, stupidly charismatic wise guy doesn’t pick up on the sarcasm.
This is the third time this week that something like this has happened, it’s Tuesday morning. Peter is fucking frustrated (which is more because of the killer on the loose, who they may be suspecting of as him) and Lockhart will not get the hint of staying away.
For a moment he contemplates whether Gilderoy is autistic, he knows from James (his best friend and someone who majors psychology) that for people on the spectrum it’s harder to pick up context clues. But then again, likely it’s just that ‘Roy’ is a self-centred asshole, who for some reason targets him to annoy.
“Yeah. Anyway, have you heard about that guy who got murdered?” The (fake) blond man asks Peter.
“Gild, we’re literally standing in line to get questioned about that.”
“Oh.” He blinks stupefied, slowly nodding.
Peter only sighs. He’s got more important stuff to worry about than Gilderoy Lockhart irritating the shit out of him.
As he stares into the blue eyes of Gilderoy he discovers bashfulness, as if he’s embarrassed for his cluelessness. The Pettigrew is unsure what to make of it, but the silence stretches and it’s starting to feel like one of these scenes out of the rom-coms Barty made him watch, where the main character meets the love interest for the first time.
Peter has got to stop thinking about Barty.
Said devil walks out and eyes him with such intensity that the short blond man feels like he’ll crumble on the spot. “Peter Pettigrew!” A female voice calls loudly into the hall, the called male turns towards the voice and sees a red haired girl not much older than him in a suit that screams FBI.
Correction to earlier; he feels like in a really bad produced action movie.
As soon as he sits in the chair opposite of the one Dumbledore usually sits in, he feels sweat start to gather on his forehead. Said teacher is missing and in his place is a man that’s maybe five years older than himself and carries a gaze as stern as a father who just discovered his kid is smoking weed.
“Hello Mister Pettigrew, my name is Frank Longbottom. I’m part of the YAU, FBI. My team and I are here to ask some questions about what happened Sunday night, thank you for your cooperation.”
Peter only nods, his throat is too dry and the gazes trained on him are too many.
“You were a participant in the race, is that correct?” Is Longbottom’s first question.
“Well, yes, but it didn’t happen.” The dirty blond stumbles to explain. “Since the police came about five minutes before it was supposed to start.” His eyes snap to a tall man in the back of the office taking notes, Peter licks his lips nervously.
The FBI agent right in front of him isn’t showing any emotion in the slightest. “Did you interact with Severus Snape the night he died?”
“No, Snape keeps- kept mostly to himself if he wasn’t running around with Mulciber.”
“Would you say Severus Snape had any enemies?” Longbottom leans back in his chair.
Peter’s mouth opens and closes before he can properly answer. “Well, he had lots of them. He isn’t really a ray of sunshine or anyone’s friend, apart from Mulciber.”
“Anyone in particular? Maybe a rival in academics?”
“No,”, the Pettigrew shakes his head, “but he had a racing rival.” He already has a sinking feeling in his stomach, he’s going to say something he’ll regret. He knows it and he knows he’ll be unable to stop it. “Sirius Black.”
Frank Longbottom nods to the red head guarding the door, “Call Evan.”
She nods in return.
Peter is going to cry.
“Where can we find Sirius Black?” The imposing man asks.
“He’s normally wherever James is —James Potter—, they hardly ever leave the others side.” Peter’s voice trembles.
“Thank you for your help, Mister Pettigrew. That would be all.” The man, who’s been writing down everything Peter said, smiles and pats his shoulder to pull him out of his trance.
Peter hears Longbottom whisper to the ginger girl, “He still talks about Snape the present sense, scratch him off the list.” Pete sighs out of relief.
Chills run up his spine as the blond law student passes Barty on his way out, the dark haired man stares with such a longing gaze that Peter is uncertain if he wants to eat or kiss him.
Always the same between the two, he humours to himself.
There isn’t much noise in the car, ignoring Pandora’s endless explanation about the reproduction of frogs.
Regulus remembers perfectly well how this began, however, it helps him little to understand how his friend jumped from the topic of religious psychosis to her current obsession of amphibians.
Dorcas, next to him in the back of the car, groans. The black haired man sympathises with her greatly.
An incoming call halts Pandora’s talking, it’s Regulus’ phone ringing in the inside of his suit. Without looking at who is phoning, he answers.
“Hello?”
“Hey bad boy, I think I’ve got something better than head to give you.” Evan’s voice whistles into his ear. Regulus is glad he hasn’t had his mobile on speaker.
He narrows his eyes as he looks out of the car window, “What is it?”
“We’ve got our main suspect, Sirius Orion Black. He’s been rivalling Snape for the past two years, witnesses said there’s always been tension between the two. Black has got the background to match the crime, he was to be the heir of the Black Mafia before it got taken down and- oh shit.” Evan stops reading out the information for Regulus, realisation catches up to the Rosier man. “Reg, this is-”
“My brother.” Regulus finishes, squeezing his eyes shut as he tilts his head down.
How come he can never escape his past? Hasn’t he done enough to finally be redeemed of his wrongdoings? Why must he be the one to never be left alone from his personal hell?
“Where can we find him?” Dorcas, who’s been listening in, asks, taking Regulus’ phone and putting Evan on speaker.
“You can’t, only indirectly is possible. Sirius’ been missing since Sunday night, one of his dorm mates, Peter, reported Monday morning. And- wow, now that’s a hell of an expensive looking college!”
“Evie, you’re rambling!” Pandora calls from the driver’s seat. “Get to your point!” “How ironic”, Regulus snorts quietly.
“Right. Sorry, sorry.” Evan apologises. “Some of his friends say he’s always with one person in particular, James Potter. He works at a local cafe, but that fucker definitely doesn’t need that extra money.” He laughs incredulously, seemingly checking Potter’s whole data. “Sending the coordinates to your GPS right now.”
“Thanks, Evan.” Regulus yells out as he grabs his phone again, “And call chief McGonagall, tell her to keep the scene intact for a bit longer, this will take a minute.” Then, he ends the call without waiting for Evan to complain about too much work.
His face is made out of stone but his heart of glass is shattering into tiny shards.
This is too much, too soon. It’s only been three years since he ended his family’s business, it’s not fair that he gets so little time to rest until he has to put another relative into prison.
Regulus is lost in thought the whole way to the destination, but once the car stops, his focus is set on finding his brother.
“The cafe is just around the corner,”, Pandora tells as she holds the door open for Regulus. While he gets out, Dora leans closer to him. “Are you okay?”
“It’s work.” And that’s what it’ll be once he’s able to organise his thoughts again.
“Of course it is, but it’s your brother that’s the work.” She counters, arching a brow, while closing the door after him.
Regulus wishes she’d just leave him be, he doesn’t need her help or anyone’s for that matter. He’s shown time and time again, he’s not dependent on anyone, not anymore. Never again.
He follows Dorcas after she already started to strut away from the two, obviously not interested in being a third wheel after weeks of no contact.
The city around them isn’t big but not small either, it’s oddly comforting yet alarming how much content Regulus is with walking around these streets. The streets where a psychotic killer is also walking.
Pandora is proven right, when they pass the last tall building and finally see the cafe, James Potter supposedly works at, just across from them.
“This is the one.” Pandora confirms for herself, looking down at her phone one last time for reassurance.
“Let’s go in then.” Regulus huffs.
“Wait.” Dorcas lays her hand on his shoulder to stop him, Regulus shakes her off immediately. “We’ve got enough drama as it is, let’s do this the calm way.”
Regulus rolls his eyes, Pandora responds to him with an elbow in the ribs. He yelps and glares at her. She just smiles sweetly and Dorcas and nods.
Dorcas hard gaze softens and Regulus would be suspicious if he wasn’t caught up in his own emotions.
The moment they enter, everyone glances at them like they’re aliens. Regulus knows this feeling too well and isn’t fazed by it, although it still is awkward.
“Mary! Hey,”, Dorcas laughs as she approaches the barista currently handing a customer their coffee. “Isn’t it supposed to be James’ shift right now?” An easygoing attitude is attached to Meadows whole being, it’s new for the two agents with her. Usually, they encounter this side of her only rarely (likely because of their work, Regulus concludes).
Mary MacDonald, as the name tag spells, scoffs out an empty chuckle. “Drop the act, Cas. I know you’re FBI, no use in playing a role now.”
The spoken too woman vividly tenses as her smile falls, “Rumours travel fast, huh?”
“As much as I know, it’s not a rumour.”
Dorcas clicks her tongue as a calculated expression is painted on her, “Where is James, Mary?”
“God, poor Marlene. Or is she one of your agents too? How much of it was a lie? Tell me.”
At this point, Regulus notices customers leaving twenty dollar bills behind before quickly leaving the place.
“This isn’t about her.”
“No, it’s about you trying to frame an innocent man!” MacDonald scowls.
“We’re not trying to frame anyone right now, we’re trying to catch a serial killer!” Dorcas argues back.
In the corner of his eyes, Regulus notices a face behind a window observing the interaction of MacDonald and Dorcas. He distinctly remembers Evan sending photos of this person to his phone labelled ‘J. Potter’. Regulus doesn’t hesitate to sprint out of the cafe and chase the man.
As soon as James Potter notices him, he starts running to, but Regulus had caught up already and has it easy to kick in the inside of his kneecap. As Potter falls to the ground, Regulus pulls out his gun on him and keeps him glued to the floor.
“FBI, hands where I can see them!” He yells, harshly tugging on the desi man’s shirt to make him stand up.
Dora, Dorcas and Mary MacDonald all gather to see what’s going on and go after the young Black. What they find is Regulus putting handcuffs around the wrists of James Potter.
“James Potter, you’re under arrest for racing without a license in invalid places and hiding the possible murderer of Severus Snape. Everything you say will be used against you, comply peacefully unless you’re keen on further consequences.”
So much for calm.