Chapter 1: A knock in the night

London, 24. May 1881

With the setting sun, the streets of London usually became more and more peaceful as the night went on. The only thing that disturbed the steady spattering of rainfall were the sounds of Luke’s rhythmic steps on the cobblestone road as he hurriedly walked through Lambeth on his way home. Although his coat was getting soaked, he didn’t mind. Not only was the city more peaceful, but even the air was better at times like this, as the pleasant smell of petrichor masked the usual and everpresent trace of smoke and filth that emanated through the capital.

Lost in his own thoughts, Luke almost missed the branch in the road that led to his abode. As much as the city and its liveliness tended to captivate Luke, it always felt good to come home. With a soft squeak, the door opened and closed after Luke entered. Immediately, the perpetual soundscape from the outside was almost completely drowned out and replaced by a muted patter on the roof, and the occasional “clack” from the water, unevenly dripping from Luke’s coat onto the wooden floorboards as he hung it up on the coathanger. With a quick look in the mirror, Luke adjusted his moustache and straightened his short, black, and now rain-soaked hair backwards.

Almost instinctively, Luke flicked his wand in the general direction of the living room. Immediately, the fireplace and an assortment of candles scattered throughout the room lit up and drenched everything in warm, dancing lights. As per usual, it required a bit of effort from Luke to make it through the rather untidy living room to an ottoman situated next to a large bookshelf, through stacks of books on the floor, random assortments of bottles and other glassware, trinkets and knick-knacks he picked up throughout the years, and many other things he didn’t bother to pick up.

Luke didn’t mind the mess. Granted, sometimes he felt like he should clean up his house. But in the end, he either didn’t mind or just didn’t find the time. There was a surprising lot of work for private investigators, even among the other witches and wizards that lived in London. When Luke first began working as an investigator, only two years after graduating from Hogwarts, he thought he was going to hate it. Even though it was probably the closest thing to being an Auror, it felt to him like he just drew the short end of the stick. But there really wasn’t a lot one could do with grades like Luke. Even with his… gift. His extraordinarily potent skill in legilimency Luke was born with didn’t matter one bit to the ministry in light of the admittedly dreadful grades he scored in most subjects.

Just minutes after he sat down, Luke was again ripped from his thoughts by frantic knocking on the door. Groaning, he rose from the ottoman and made his way to the door, where whoever was outside was still knocking with increasing intensity.

Perhaps a bit too harshly, Luke swung the door open and found himself face-to-face with a young man, no older than 20 years of age. “Can I help you?”, he asked.

“Y… Yes, please. You’re Luke Fledgling, right? The private investigator?”, the stranger asked, seemingly out of breath.

“Indeed I am”.

“Malcolm. Malcolm Kemp. I know it’s late, but it’s urgent. Please, may I come in?”.

Luke hesitated for a moment. Malcolm didn’t look like a wizard. Sure enough, compared to most wizards and witches he has met, Malcolm’s mind was like an open book to Luke as he tried to probe the mind of his opposite. In the split second Luke bothered to try to perceive Malcolm’s emotions, he was hit with a colossal feeling of… fear. Fear, anger, and desperation, much more than something unimportant would ever warrant. He sighed softly and stepped aside.

“Fine. Please, come in”, Luke said. “You can hang your coat here, next to mine. Just try not to drag in too much water”.

“Thank you. Thank you so much, I… No, I won’t”

Luke usually didn’t concern himself with the plights of muggles, but from time to time he took on cases for them. Sometimes it just felt like the right thing to do, other times the cases or the people seeking him out for help were truly intriguing. This time, it was both.

“You have a limp”, Luke noticed, as he led Malcolm to his living room. He didn’t mind showing his home to a muggle. Worst case, Malcolm would think he was just a nutjob and take his business elsewhere.

“Yes. I returned from Cape Colony this morning”. Malcolm took a seat on an armchair opposite from Luke

“Cape colony, huh? What have you been doing there?”

“The hell do you think?”. Malcolm gave Luke a weird look.

“I… Sorry, I have no idea. It’s an agricultural colony, if I recall correctly, right?”

The weird look on Malcolm's face turned into an expression of disbelief.

“You must have been living under a rock then”, he said, shaking his head. “Do you not read any newspapers? We’ve been at war with those goddamn Boers for almost three years now!”.

“Oh, I see. I must admit, I don’t bother with politics. Is that where you-”

“Got that limp?”, Malcolm cut him off. “Yeah. Got shot in the leg a few weeks ago. Can’t fight much with this, can I? So they sent me home. Not what I expected when I accepted the Queen’s shilling.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Wasn’t you who shot me, was it? Well, it don’t matter anyways. I’m here because I need your help”.

“I figured as much. How did you get my contact though?”

“My father. Or rather, people my father knows. My old man served as a captain in the Royal Navy. One of his friends in high places recommended you when he… When I needed help earlier today”.

“Who?”

“Armitage. Phoebe is her first name, I think”.

Luke couldn’t help but smirk at the mention of Phoebe Armitage. An elderly witch and wealthy woman who liked to mingle with the upper class of London. He helped locate her late husband’s locket after it was stolen. Luke didn’t really get to know her well, but since that case a few years ago she has been advertising his service to an abundance of witches, wizards, and now apparently even muggles.

“Ah, Miss Armitage. I remember her, yes”.

“Mister Fledgling, please, I-”

“Call me Luke, please”.

“Alright, Luke. I need your help. I’m not a poor soul either. I can offer you good coin. My mum and my dad, they… they’re dead. And I need to know who, or rather, what, did that”.

Luke took a good look at Malcolm. The boy seemed calm, but Luke could feel the grief and anger bellowing inside him.

“Why me?”, Luke wondered. “Would the… What was it? Wouldn’t that be a more suitable case for the police?”.

Malcolm scoffed. “No. I can’t allow myself to approach them for help. My family may not be from the upper echelon of London, but they are… were important people. I can’t be seen having those bobbies at our house. At least not until everything is sorted out. You understand?”

Luke didn’t, but he didn’t care much either. Maybe it was because he was born a half-blood, but he never understood why people, especially muggles, were so dead-set on social classes and family heritage. Nonetheless, he nodded, signalling Malcolm to continue.

“I arrived in London just this morning”, Malcolm continued. “When I returned home, our housekeeper didn’t greet me. I figured she was just busy, so I entered our house, and…”

Malcolm cut himself off, seemingly unable to continue.

“Take your time”, Luke reassured him in a soft voice.

“Thanks, I… I don’t know how to describe it. They were all… torn to pieces. Like some kind of animal attacked them”. A singular tear ran down his cheek. “But there aren’t any animals like this anywhere in London, we all know that. I want… no, I need to know who or what did this. There are no animals in all of Britain who could have done this, I’m sure about that. So it must have been someone”.

Luke could think of at least a dozen creatures that could have done what Malcolm was describing to him. But he couldn’t tell him that. Even if Malcolm would believe him, Luke wasn’t planning on breaking the statute of secrecy anytime soon.

“Luke, please help me find that person. I can offer you 250£ if you can find them”.

The sudden silence seemed to amplify the continuous pelting on the roof by some orders of magnitude. Luke didn’t exactly know how much money that was in Galleons, but he was certain that 250£ would be considered a fortune by most muggles. He felt pity for young Malcolm, who had just lost his family after returning from a war. On the other hand, he felt intrigued. Malcolm was right, Luke most certainly didn’t know of any non-magical beasts that could wreck a whole hose, much less in the centre of London. And even magical beasts were usually controlled and kept in check by the ministry.

Finally, Luke broke the silence. “Alright then. Show me where it happened”.