Bohemian Rhapsody

moment twelve: whispers in the dark (March 1974)

Deep within the corridors of Scotland Yard, a solitary cleaner pushed open the door to a medium-sized room, and fumbled around in the dark for the light switch near the door. When he didn't find it, a series of curses followed, as the cleaner sighed, looked up at the ceiling and said, in a very strong Lancastrian accent, "Lumos."

The lights went on like a charm, and the cleaner quickly bussed his cart inside, wheels rattling over the line in the carpet. He muttered to himself, and went about his usual business of emptying trash and cleaning up the whiteboard before the day's work. He'd certainly never been in a place with voice activated lights before, but when he took the position here, he'd been warned to look out for all kind of advanced forensic technology. Didn't quite know where voice-activated lights came in, but he supposed the police knew what they were doing. The room didn't seem that special, after all: the plaque on the door read "Conference Room 2a", but there were enough funny objects littered upon desks and the like to make the man wary.

And what kind of language was "Lumos" anyway? French, maybe. Something European. Hmmm. The cleaner felt disgusted that even Scotland Yard wasn't buying British. But he was there to do a job, and he did it, remembering to turn off the lights with a drawn-out "Nox" that sounded as though it had at least five syllables.

In the breaking dawn, various individuals apparated to the outer boundaries of the complex, some more blearily eyed or formally-attired than others. All walked in through the high metal fence, and were only accepted into the building after passing the most stringent security checks known to both Muggle science and Wizard magic. This, then, was the home of Scotland Yard's covert magical division. One-by-one, six individuals soon found their way into the newly-cleaned Conference Room 2a, taking their time to politely ignore one another, gazing around the room, arms folded over chests, straightening skirts or stockings or shirts and ties, opening up satchels to muse over the daily papers yet again - the Times sharing space with the Daily Prophet.

Shortly after 8:30pm, two figures marched sharply into the room, wanting - and getting - the attention of the gathered crowd. DI Rod Tanner strode quickly to stand next to the enchanted whiteboard, looking everyone over in turn.

As for the second arrival, the Detective Chief Inspector faced the crowd, and sized them up. They were tough, but he'd had tougher. Firstly, there were certain proprieties to be considered. He nodded to them, and rubbed his hands together.

"Look," he began, "I'd like to thank all of you for getting here for such an early start. I'm DCI Tennyson and this is DI Tanner, both from the Division's homicide squad. Most of you don't know the specifics of the case, just that this taskforce has been set up by the Ministry to investigate some unexplained deaths. Rod?" He turned to his DI, who was as always, coolly efficient.

Rod drew everyone's attention by slapping a series of photos up on the enchanted whiteboard, affixing them there with a word. From each, you could see grass or leaves or rubbish twirling gently in the wind, a horrible contrast to the stillness of the faces that glimpsed out, faces contorted in fear.

"12 victims," he said, tapping each one in turn, and set up another set of 7 photos beneath it. "Another 7 with a related M.O. That makes 19 deaths - all in the past two years."

John settled himself on the desk, and glanced across the people gathered before him, registering the growing shock on their faces. They were experienced detectives, all of them, but serial killing still tugged at something primal in their hearts, and made them want to bleed.

Rod continued, inexorably, tapping the third picture. "First victims found, May 1972. The Bridgsen family, found in the Lake District, by a local tenant farmer. They were a family who went up there on holiday about eight months previously, and were reported missing soon afterward. DCI Tennyson and I were asked to come out due to the unusual state of the corpses. As you can see, even after eight months, there's no obvious decomposition. After some checking, we discovered two cases with the same lack of decomposition." He tapped the first two photos in turn. "A homeless man found in a dumpster in Redding, February '71. Local plods just figured he'd frozen to death. And an elderly woman, found dead in her house in Suffolk, August 1971. Presumed to be a heart attack."

One on the DCs brought in from Brighton raised his hand, and Rod nodded, taking the question. "Sir, how's that possible? The lack of decomposition, I mean."

The DCI clambered off the desk, and put his hands in his pockets. "Good question there...DC Felton, isn't it?"

The young man nodded, and pushed his glasses back up his face, taking a moment to brush back his hair. "DC Alex Felton, yes sir."

John turned to look at the photos, lengthening out the moment. Leading any team was as much about looking the part as doing it. "In some extreme cases of the Cruciatus Curse, the energy levels pouring through the victims' body not only kills them, but freezes the flesh in place. Some had theorised that it's nature's way of making such an unnatural crime so obvious. I don't know, myself. But after forensic testing, it's clear that these 12 victims were not only killed with Cruciatus, but almost certainly by the same wizard, due to the power levels required and some similar residual traces detected on the bodies."

A young black woman stepped forward, dressed smartly in jacket and trousers. John recognised her from her file: DS Rachel Makhanyezi, lately from Vice, dealing with prostitution charms and the like. He nodded to Rod, letting him take this one for the moment.

"Yes, DS Makhanyezi?"

"If that's so, what about the second line of victims? You can clearly see physical degradation on those corpses." She stood there, arms crossed, jaw defiant, looking for an answer.

Rod turned back to the whiteboard, and spoke clearly. "The DS has raised a good point." He pointed to obvious deformities on the corpses indicative of decomposition. DC Felton looked faintly ill. "As you can see, these other victims haven't been preserved. Forensics concurs that they were not killed by the same wizard as the first set, but by less powerful magical practitioners."

DS Makhanyezi still wasn't satisfied. "What you're saying is that we've got some powerful wizard going round killing people, and he's got his friends in on it too."

There was a low murmur at this, and John cut over the top of it. "Not just people," he said sharply. "Muggles."

The murmuring stopped.

Taking a breath, he continued. "That's right. All victims so far have been Muggles, and so far only relatively obscure ones. Homeless people, the elderly, holiday makers, runaways: those without people to take care of them or notice them when they're gone."

Makhanyezi looked down at her feet, and back up again, her ebony face now all business. "What kind of strength are we talking about here, Sir? I certainly haven't heard of Cruciatus having this kind of effect before."

John sighed heavily. "The last recorded case was during the second world war, when Grindelwald performed experiments on some of the Jewish kabbalah wizards."

DC Felton raised his hand again. "We're...we're supposed to be catching a dark wizard, Sir? Isn't that what the Aurors are for?"

"The Ministry itself has decided that the talents of Scotland Yard are far more suited to the task, DC Felton," DCI Tennyson replied curtly. "We track criminals and investigate cases all the time. The Aurors are far more 'take 'em down' type of guys, and judging by movements within the Ministry, they're going to get that way even more. We're policemen: this is what we do."

There was a mumbled assent at that. "Basically, what I want us to do is go over each single case again: try to look for anything distinctive. How does the killer choose his victims? How does he contact his followers?"

Makhanyezi had one more question. "What about forensic reports from the crime scene? Have they been helpful in establishing a profile of this wizard or his followers?"

John winced inwardly: he dreaded having to tell them this. "Well, from what we can tell, the followers are all quite powerful in their own right, and all perfectly adept at using Cruciatus. They were all, of course, shrouding their magical signatures."

"What about the ringleader though?"
"From what we've been able to tell, there are some...non-human elements in his make-up that make identification near impossible."

They all picked up their ears at that. Owens, a bulky, square shouldered DC with mousey brown hair and a face like a concrete block, spoke up. "Non-human, Sir?"
John nodded. "It looks there's some kind of dark power involvement."
The assorted group looked stunned, and Makhanyezi was the first to crack. "And we're supposed to go after this guy?"

"Settle, Rachel," DCI Tennyson warned. "We're treating this case just like any other. Whoever this is, wherever they're from, they're committing criminal acts of magical homicide and it's our duty to stop them. Part of the reason we've been assigned the case is because we're low-profile. Aurors attract attention, and the Ministry's having a difficult enough job of it trying to conceal the sheer number of victims from the press let alone they were committed against Muggles. What do you think would happen if the Aurors got brought in? They'd swarm all over it, and even the Muggles would be able to tell what's going on. How do you think they'd react? Oh, there is magic, and there are wizards, and by the way, one of them is randomly killing you one-by-one."

Felton was quietly reflective. "They'd probably try to attack us, Sir. Make it a war."

John nodded. "That's right," he said, looking across at the faces of his taskforce. "And we'd slaughter 'em, after a while. I think that could be what this guy wants."

The other female in the room - DC Amanda Jones, John remembered, from the Psych unit - chose that moment to break her silence. "Could this have anything to do with the recent attacks by werewolves and the like, Sir?"

John turned to his DI, shrugged, and looked back. "It's possible. The recent increase of attacks by werewolves, vampires and other monsters had taken place in the Baltic states and Ireland, rather than the UK itself. Obviously, it's outside our jurisdiction. But with potential dark power involvement, it does remain a possibility - however, our focus is the murder cases. We have to find this person, and his friends, before the panic hits the streets. Anything gets too serious, then we hand it over to the Aurors. Till then, it's just us."