All Our Yesterdays

All Our Yesterdays

Chapter 2 - Quo Vadis?

The day was bright. The sun was shining, illuminating the green plains. John Mathews had gone to one of the farms around to visit a pregnant patient. He was a doctor and worked at the hospital of the largest city in the area. That didn't mean much, actually. Harmony Springs was a small place compared to the capital or any big city. Less than ten thousand residents, no big industry. A calm place. John wasn't born there. He was born and raised in England, but he was tired of the violence in the big urban centers. He was tired of treating patients who didn't have a chance in the outside world, so he decided to look for shelter in that small place, blessed by God. He knew most people didn't share his point of view: they thought the place was tedious and they couldn't believe that he could abandon a successful career! in London, to come live there, in that small sheeping town, treating unimportant cases, and not much excitement. But he loved it all.

He loved to visit patients at home, loved to bring babies into the world, loved to take care of parents, kids and the entire family. For him, that was true medicine: no cutting to heal, but talking and really knowing people, treat them in every way. He was a happy man. Loved his job, had a small house with a white picket fence and a playground, where someday his kids could play, and a fiancée who was simply wonderful. In every way, he was a happy man.

This day in particular, he was driving along happily. Last night he had proposed to his girlfriend of the last five years. And she had said yes! After that, there was nothing in the world that could ruin his happiness. He could already imagine his children playing in the fields, walking, running, talking. He didn't want to wait too long for children and, with some luck, he could convince Emily. Without intending to, he started to whistle. He was so happy he didn't even realize it.

A few more kilometers down the road he came across a car stopped on the road. It was expensive and new, different from the kind of car that usually showed up around there. Curious, John slowed down, stopping beside the strange car. Outside it, there was a tall blond man, in a dark gray suit. Something in his appearance told John that that wasn't a man you'd normally find in his current condition: hair disheveled, clothes all wrinkled, sweating and kicking the wheel of the automobile while shouting profanities, stopped in the middle of a road. John couldn't help but smile.

"Is something wrong with your car?" he asked helpfully. Here, people still helped each other.

******************

Draco unfolded the map on the seat beside him. It was official now: he was lost. "I should never have left the damn main road!" he said, passing a hand through his hair. It was already three o'clock in the afternoon and he was in the middle of nowhere, lost some place in Scotland. Closing his eyes, he let his head fall on the steering wheel of the car. Nothing was working out today.

It all started that morning. He had intended to call Anne via floo and ask her to check with the muggle police on the whereabouts of the woman's body found in the tree, and prepare authorization with the muggle government so that he could transfer the body. He wanted a wizard pathologist to exam it, looking for any evidence of magic. While Anne prepared all that, he could catch a port key to Edinburgh and get in touch with their Missing Persons Department in person. Their help would be very important in the case. And Anne could send everything she got via owl or floo to him. With Draco's luck, however, nothing went as planned.

As soon as he got up, he took a shower and got dressed. The day Draco Malfoy would talk to his secretary or anybody else wearing his bath robe, or worse: only a towel around his waist, was still to come. That would be absurd; after all, a Malfoy is always composed and ready. As soon as he had gotten ready, and before he could call Anne, however, he was suddenly contacted by one of his investigators in the fireplace.

"Sir," said Jones. He was one of the most experienced investigators Draco had. "We have an emergency."

"What is it?" he asked, in a bad mood. Things like this only happened when he was in a real hurry.

"We have a big case..."

"Well obviously, Jones. What other reason would you have for calling me at a time like this? Could you be more specific?"

"It's Sirius Black's daughter, sir. She's missing."

"What?" Draco almost choked on his own saliva. "Sirius Black's daughter? That's just what I need!"

"Yes, sir."

"When was she last seen?"

"Yesterday, around ten p.m., when her parents put her to bed. An hour ago, her mother went to wake her up, and she wasn't in her bed, or any place else in the house."

"Where are you now?"

"I'm still at the Blacks' house."

"Very well," Draco said, "I'll be there shortly."

"Yes, sir," Jones answered, fading from the fireplace. Without wasting a second, Malfoy took some floo powder and threw it in the fire, calling Anne.

"Good morning," the woman said, still wearing a pink bath robe.

"Anne, we'll have a busy day today. I want you to go to the office immediately. I need you to talk to the muggle police, and try to find out where the body of this woman is," he said, giving her the picture and the newspaper clipping. "I'm also going to need an authorization to transfer the body. I want to bring it to London," he said. Then, changing his mind, "No, no. Forget it. I want it to be examined in Edinburgh, where it is," he completed. He knew that, as soon as the body arrived in London, it would be impossible to keep it a secret.

"All right, sir."

"As soon as you get it, Anne, I want you to send me an owl with everything, including the things I just gave you, okay?"

"Yes. And that's why it will be a busy day?" she asked, confused.

"No. The day will be busy because Sirius Black's daughter is missing. Surely that will turn everything into some kind of circus. Prepare yourself to answer lots of journalists' owls."

"And what should I say?"

"The usual, Anne: that it's too early to make any statements, we're investigating, as soon as we find out what happened, we'll let them know, blah, blah, blah. I'm going to Blacks' now. I will not be going to the office after that. I've got something else to investigate."

"Is it about the body...?"

"Anne, listen very carefully: I don't want you to talk with anyone about what I just asked you to do, understand?" Draco asks, seriously.

"Okay, sure."

"Good. And about where I'm going, you'd better not know so that you won't be tempted to say when someone asks. Just say I'm working."

"But sir..." the other started, hurt.

"Bye, Anne. I don't have time now," Malfoy interrupted her. He had to go to the Blacks' house immediately.

A moment later, he had apparated right to the Black's living room. Jones was there, holding a parchment. Sirius was sitting on the sofa, beside his wife. Draco knew little about her - only that she was a muggle, and that was enough for him. He didn't need to know anything more. The woman was crying. "So predictable," he thought. If there was something he got used to in his work, it was tears. Especially from women.

"Tell me what happened here," Draco said to Jones, when the other approached him.

"Well, there's not much to say. There is no evidences in the house. The fireplace wasn't used to transport anybody, no evidence of struggle. Nothing."

"And what about magic?" the other asked, looking at the sofa. Black was watching him, clearly annoyed.

"The levels aren't above the normal for a magic house. Surely, no powerful spell was done here."

"Ransom note?"

"Nothing."

"No clues?"

"No, none."

"Well, it's time to talk to the parents, isn't it?"

"They've been interrogated. They don't know anything."

"I still haven't questioned them, Jones," Malfoy said flatly, ignoring the other. He was impatient. He wanted to finish this so that he could work on his other case. So, calmly, he walked toward the sofa and sat in front of Black and his wife.

"I want to make it clear," Black started, "that, if the circumstances were different, you would never be allowed to set foot in my house," he said, harshly, looking at the other.

"Believe me, I'm not here because I want to be," Draco said, keeping himself from getting angry. "Really, it's not a very good idea to insult the person who's job it is to find your missing daughter. It's definitely something a dim-witted Gryffindor would do."

"We've already told everything to Jones. We don't see that there is anything else to say."

"Can you think of someone who could've wanted to kidnap her as a personal vendetta against you?"

"Of course I can, but surely, Malfoy, you know the names better than me, don't you? All of them frequented your house."

"The names I know, Black, are in Azkaban."

"Are you sure?" the other asked, with disregard and distrust.

"Yes, I am," Draco answered, without changing his expression. "And what about you?" he asked, reveling inside for his chance to get back at him. "What did you do after putting her to sleep?"

"What do you mean by that? We went to bed too!"

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I am, you..."

"Sirius, don't..."

"No, Jules! Don't you realize what he is trying to imply?"

"I'm not implying anything. The truth is this, in cases like this, the parents many times are suspects..."

"Ah, you..." Black stood up instantly and would have plowed Draco down if his wife hadn't held him back.

"This is neither the time, nor the place, Sirius!!!" she said. And, turning to Malfoy, "I'm not interested in what's common in these cases! We've never hurt our daughter!"

"" I don't doubt it, Mrs. Black, but I wouldn't be the best at what I do if I didn't ask the tough questions," he answered. Then said, "Excuse me." And walked away from the furious man and the woman, still tearful, satisfied with himself. After all, it wasn't every day that he could piss off Sirius Black. In that moment, Draco almost believed that his morning that had started badly would get better. As he thought, however, it was too soon to assume that.

"The perimeter is protected, sir," Jones told Draco some three hours later. Malfoy was getting very anxious. He should have left by now, but he had no choice. A case like this was too important for him to simply leave. He needed to make sure everything what taken care of first.

"Well," he answered, soberly. He had ordered that a perimeter be created around the house, making sure that anyone performing unauthorized magic inside would be automatically detected. Besides that, any apparation in the area would also be redirected to the living room, where the agents were. "Has Eames got back with the localizer?"

"He's on his way," the other answered. The localizer would be used in case of an owl with a ransom note. It was a kind of amulet and would be placed under the owl's skin, to avoid detection, then, it would allow locating the animal with a simple spell. "And the pictures are already being distributed." It was very important that the girl's face was spread to every possible magic place. The best chance of finding her was if someone recognized her and called them.

"Are the first of the journalists here?" Draco asked already knowing the answer.

"Yes. They're at the edge of the security perimeter."

"Don't let them get in, Jones."

"Of course not. They will stay right where they are."

"It's unbelievable," Malfoy commented, going to the window to look outside. "We only just found out about it, and they're here already! Bunch of vultures!"

"Well, do you intend to say something to them?"

"And say what? That we know shit about it?"

"Say that we're working, that there are investigators looking for her..."

"I'm not going to say anything. At least not until we get a better idea of what happened. And, if I don't talk to them, no one talks, is that clear?"

"Yes."

"Good," Draco said, grim, turning to the window again.

"Sir! Sir!" He heard the excited voice of one of the young investigators. "An owl!" All eyes turned to it, anxious. Black and his wife stood up suddenly, with renewed hope. Malfoy, however, looked at the owl and intruded on the generalized enthusiasm, giving the younger investigator a look of disapproval.

"It's an owl from the department, I was waiting for it," Draco said, moving his hand toward the animal, which was carrying a big buff envelope and a smaller one, white. Black and his wife sat down again, disappointed, and without intending to, Malfoy had some sympathy for them. Good or bad, he knew what it was like: the lack of news could mean something either good or bad, the fear, the hope. He wouldn't even wish that on Sirius Black.

Putting these thoughts aside, Draco forced himself to open the white envelope, containing his secretary's handwriting. It had taken her longer to send the papers than he had expected. The journalists were most likely causing some trouble. The note said that the woman's body had been taken to Edinburgh to be examined by specialists. It also said that in the buff envelope Draco would find the authorizations needed to transfer the body to the magical world police facilities, also the reconstruction of the woman's face and the newspaper clipping. Now that he had everything he needed, he took a look around. He couldn't stay any longer when he knew he had to go to Scotland to solve this woman's mystery. He was about to call Jones and leave him in charged of the situation, when his thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a voice, this time, Black's voice.

"Another owl!" he said anxiously, pointing at an animal at the window. His first impulse was to run and get the letter the owl had brought, which would be extremely reckless. Who knew what kind of spell or potion it might be carrying? Not liking him as he did, Draco felt happy stopping him.

"Calm down, Black! This is our job!" he said, pushing Sirius back. The other still tried to resistance, but Malfoy interrupted him again. "The letter may be charmed, might it not??? Do you want to find your daughter or die during the process?" It apparently made Black calm down a little.

The owl was still perched on the railing, silent and solemn. It was gray and big, a beautiful specimen. Carefully, Jones approached it, using thick protective gloves, made with dragon leather. He freed the envelope from the leg of the animal, while another agent held it, so that it could not fly away. All in the room observed intently.

Jones took the letter out of the house and was followed by two other agents. They would test it for hostile charms and evil potions. Draco had done that a lot in the past, but now he left this risky task to his subordinates. As soon as they left the house, Malfoy turned to the investigator who was with the owl.

"As soon as Eames gets here, I want you to put the localizer on and free it." He then turned back to the door.

"Sir, I don't think that will be possible..."

"What do you mean?" Draco turned back, irritated.

"It's just that, well, the owl is dead," the agent answered, showing the animal.

Draco approached curiously to see for himself. It was true. It had stopped breathing. That's all he needed! Now it would be impossible to use the localizer.

"How..." Black interrupted, approaching.

"Probably a potion," Malfoy answered, seriously. "Whoever sent the letter knew we would try to use the owl to find him."

"My God!" Black said. His tone of voice made it clear what he was thinking: he had finally understood what kind of person it was that had his daughter. And he was panicked. Draco knew the feeling, but it was beyond him to say anything to make the other feel better. It was a job for Potter or some of his other friends. Without saying anything, Malfoy left the room, to go find Jones outside.

"So?" he asked noticing the other was holding the letter without the gloves.

"No spell, no magic, no nothing."

"Let me take a look," Draco asked, extending his hand. The letter was all written with letters and words cut from the Daily Prophet. "This is so cliché," he thought, but it was still efficient, making it difficult to be tracked. "Want to see your child again?" Malfoy read out loud. "Leave thirty thousand galleons, at ten p.m., in the second trash can in Knockturn Alley. Come alone."

"Looks like we have a simple kidnapping case on our hands," Jones commented, but Draco was fascinated by something else.

"The note doesn't mention Black's or his wife's names."

"Maybe," he agreed, but he had the impression that there was something wrong. The note wasn't addressed to a specific person. It was possible that the kidnapper was in a hurry... or maybe he wasn't sure who he would kidnap at the time he made the note. "Jones," Draco said, pulling himself out of the trance he was in. He couldn't waste time speculating. "We have a simple ransom situation. I want you to handle everything: talk to the Blacks, get the money, prepare the location. I also want you to send this note to the department, to see if it can be determined which edition of the Prophet our kidnapper used to make the note..."

"Aren't you staying?"

"No. I've got something important to do, but I'll be back in time for the drop-off of the money, okay? Just prepare everything in my absence."

"Right, sir."

"I'll see you later, Jones," Malfoy concluded, turned and left. He passed through the gate and got clear of the journalists. He was authorized, but didn't apparate inside the perimeter to avoid unnecessary alarms. As soon as he was clear of everyone, however, he took out his wand and apparated right to the port-key point. He had to go to Scotland and didn't want to wait one more second.

---------

That's what Draco should've done from the beginning: leave Jones to take care of everything while he could do what he had to do. But no. He had to be involved in the case, he had to let himself be late. Now, it was too late. When he got in Edinburgh, he had gone immediately to the local magical world police department. He had to talk to them about the body, after all, if he didn't want to bring the body to London, it would have to be examined there and, for that, he needed the local investigator's authorization. It didn't take him long to get it, though. An hour later, he was headed for the morgue, escorted by two agents, to get the woman's body. They were going as muggle investigators, driving a van appropriated to transfer the body. Draco hated this. Every minute he spent in the vehicle, he was cursing himself mentally. At what point he had gone? But he had no other choice. Not if he really wanted to solve this mystery.

In the morgue, he identified himself - using the credentials the muggle government had given him. There were few people in the muggle government who knew about the wizards. It was necessary, since, eventually, both the ministries needed to cooperate, but the wizarding government was careful selecting people who wouldn't have much credibility if in the future they wanted to denounce the wizarding world; or people who had wizards in their family. None of the precautions were considered extreme.

"Look, I'm really not surprised that you're taking this case from us," the coroner who examined the woman said, while getting the folder containing his report and gave it to Draco. They were both in the office, because Draco wanted to see the report and talk to the doctor before seeing the body.

"Why?" he asked, opening the files. "Did you find something unusual?"

"Unusual? I don't know if that is the right word to describe it. I've been doing this job for twenty years, and the murder of this woman was surely one of the most cruel I've ever seen"

"How did she die?"

"Probably from hemorrhaging."

"Probably?" Draco raised an eyebrow.

"I found many signs of wounds on her. The body was extremely well preserved due to all the sand, so, despite the woman being dead for over ten years, I was able to do a detailed exam..."

"What kind of wounds?" Draco interrupted.

"The kind that suggests that she was badly beaten before dying. I found a dislocated shoulder; a broken bone in the arm, a typical fracture of self-defense and cuts on the arms and hands indicating self-defense, and two broken ribs."

"She was beaten."

"Yes. The X-rays and photos are in the report."

"What else?"

"The toxicology exam revealed traces of some unknown substances. I think she must have been drugged."

Draco looked over the report, lingering a bit on a picture of her. In red, on the woman's forehead, was drawn an equilateral triangle, just as stated in the newspaper report.

"Is this triangle drawn with blood?" he asked.

"No. It's some kind of permanent pigment, but we couldn't identify it. It's an unknown ink."

"Any special meaning to the shape?"

"That's for you to say, isn't it? I just exam the body."

"You said she died of hemorrhaging, but I don't see any big cut..."

"But it wasn't a big cut. It was a small and precise one, in the femoral artery. She also has a straight cut in the joining of the arm and forearm, but this is secondary and was starting to heal when she died. In my opinion she was put inside the tree, God knows how, still alive and there she bleed to death."

"My God."

"Well, it gets worse."

"Worse?"

"I found evidence of sexual assault."

"What had been done to this woman?!" Draco sort of said, sort of asked, a little panicky. Suddenly, he didn't want to believe that this case had any relation with Ginny's. It couldn't be true. "I swear I'll kill that stupid Creevey," he said mentally. He would have given anything, at that moment, to stop all the thoughts that now invaded his head.

"Well, this is also for you to figure out, isn't it? I said it was a cruel murder."

"Yes, you said. Let's finish with this at once. Where's the body?" Draco asked, trying to keep himself in control. He needed to concentrate on the task ahead.

"It's downstairs, in the fridge. Just follow me..."

Both of them left the office and met the local investigators, who'd been waiting outside. Then, they caught the elevator and went down one floor. The "fridge" was in the basement. Leaving the elevator, the four men turned to the right and went through a short corridor that ended in a big metal door. The coroner opened it and let them in. Then, he took a small clip board beside the door and looked up which drawer the woman's body was in. He proceeded a few steps ahead and extended his hand to one of the knobs. Draco swallowed dryly. Silence reigned. It was as if everything happened in slow motion. It was terrifying to imagine that the destiny of this woman could be the same as... no, he shook his head. There was no evidence that it was true, he told himself. He couldn't be hasty in his conclusions.

When the coroner opened the drawer, however, and pulled out what was supposed to be the body, the four men couldn't avoid a gasp of surprise.

"My God! But how..."

"Are you sure she should be here?" Draco asked, furiously.

"Yes, sure..."

"Absolutely sure?"

"Yes, absolutely sure!" the coroner said angrily, but it didn't change the fact that, at that moment, all four of them faced, astoundly, the emptiness. The body had disappeared.

They searched the entire morgue, but didn't find anything. Absolutely nothing. Draco left the other two there, while the muggles examined the tapes from the security cameras, but he doubted that they would find anything: the body had simply disappeared and there was only one way for that to happen: using magic. No muggle device could help him in this case.

Frustrated and furious - in a way that was hard to describe - Draco asked the coroner to tell him where exactly the body was found. If he couldn't exam the body, he could at least take a look at the place. The doctor gave him a map and indicated the way. It was far, so, Malfoy used a port-key to the closest city and, there, he passed into the muggle world and rented a car. He hated to drive. Riding in one of those vehicles was bad enough, but driving one was simply the worst. With no other options, though, it was exactly what he did. And, at that moment, hitting his head on the steering-wheel, because he was lost somewhere in Scotland, Draco deeply cursed his decision. Nothing was going.

Without knowing what to do or where to go, he got out of the car, furious. He needed to discount that anger somehow. He looked at the car and wished he could destroy it. Why do muggles use such stupid transportation? When you pick a port-key, or use floo powder, or apparate, you reach exactly where you want to go - as long as you've had some practice in the last two choices. You don't get lost, don't need maps, don't need to worry about getting completely lost on a road at the end of the world!

"Stupid car!" he yelled, kicking the wheel. "Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" he repeated continuing to kick the wheel. "You're a very stupid car, you wretched, son of a bitch, product of a worthless muggle, you're good for nothing, you..."

"You havin' a problem with your car?" He heard a strange voice asking. He had been so engrossed in his own rage that he hadn't seen anybody approaching.

"No," he answered as coldly as he could, staring at the man facing him from inside a pickup-truck. The man was looking at him with half a smile on his face and easy-going eyes. Draco could sense what that was: happiness. He was a happy man and Draco hated happy people, with their smiles at the wrong time, their needless singing and their looks full of sympathy. Suddenly, he felt an uncontrollable urge to kick the man exactly like he was doing to the car.

"What happened, then?" he asked, surprised.

"It's none of your business," Draco answered through his teeth. The day that he would ask for help from that man would never come.

"But maybe I can help..."

"What's wrong with you? I just said it's none of your business! How rude do I need to be to get you to leave me alone?"

"I'm used to dealing with rude people. It happens a lot in my profession."

"I'm lost, okay?" Draco answered, finally, just to make him go away. "Satisfied now?"

"Oh, you're lost and it's the car's fault?" the man asked, with a fun air. Malfoy gave him such a deadly look, that he didn't dare make anymore jokes. "Where are you going?"

Draco closed his eyes and sighed tiredly. That was his only way out.

"I'm looking for Erick McDermontt's farm in..."

"Oh, but you're on the wrong road!"

"Really Sherlock?" Malfoy responded, using an expression he had learned from Ginny. "I hadn't realized that."

"This is the road to Harmony Springs," the man said, ignoring the last comment. "You have to go back to the main road and drive about 150 km. The farm is just off the road. There's a sign."

"Great," Draco said without wasting any more time. He got in the car, started it and turned around to go back the way he'd come, while the man was still staring at him, bewildered. He was probably waiting for a 'Thank You'. "Never, over my dead body," Draco thought, while accelerating. He wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

----------------------

Draco parked beside the house. The place was desert. It was passed five p.m., but since it was summer, the sun was still shining in the sky. He felt a chill as he got out of the car and took a look around. All the windows of the house were closed. No light or movement could be seen inside. Suddenly, Draco heard the moaning of sheep. If there were sheep, then there must be someone taking care of them. Draco made a mental note to remember to find out who that might be. It was hard to imagine that anyone would want to come to this farm of their own free will. The atmosphere seemed filled with suffering and mystery. Despite the day still being bright, the place seemed gloomy, almost macabre. "It was to be expected," he thought. "This field housed the body of a woman for over ten years." Over ten years. It would be impossible for it not to be full of negative energies.

On the top of a small hill was the cracked tree. It was blackish and dead, but left no doubt that once it had been an oak, solid as a rock. And it was there that Draco needed to go. The silence was heavy in the air. Forcing his own legs - which threatened to rebel - to move, Malfoy passed through the fence that surrounded part of the field, and started to walk toward the tree. The grass on the ground was trampled down, indicating that a large number of careless people had passed through that way, with boots and other heavy shoes. Close to the tree, fallen to the ground, Draco saw one of the yellow markers used by the muggle experts to mark a crime scene. It was covered a little by the mud, indicating that it had been kicked from its original place, or maybe blown by the wind and forgotten. Probably it had rained after the body was found.

Climbing the soft incline, Malfoy soon found himself in front of the tree. There was magic there, he could feel it. He could feel it in his bones, in his flesh, in his soul. There was powerful magic there, enough to make the hair on Draco's neck stand on end and to give him a second chill, this time much more intense, running up his back. It was in the air, in the tree, and in the ground, it was everywhere.

There was still some sand on the ground. The muggles probably took the rest to be analyzed and search for evidence. Draco took a sample of the grey grains in a small plastic bag. Maybe it would be possible to identify exactly what the substance was and find out if it was a product of some ritual or potion, or simply from a transfiguration spell. Whoever killed that woman, surely didn't drive a truckload of sand all the way out there. Especially if this person was a wizard, which he strongly suspected. Placing the sample in the inner pocket of his suit, Draco moved closer to the tree. The lightning had hit it right in the middle, practically breaking it in two. There was no life left there.

Raising his eyes, Malfoy saw the sun light reflecting off of something above him inside the hollow trunk. Stretching out his hand to touch the object that was reflecting: he found that it was glass. A piece of glass inlaid in the wood. Of course! Draco mentally cursed himself for not realizing it before: surely the high temperature produced by the lightning was responsible for turning the sand - the part in direct contact with the impact - into glass. Pulling out a small pocketknife, he managed to remove the piece of glass from the trunk. He held it between his fingers for a moment, thinking. Then, he put it in his pants' pocket.

Finally, he walked around the oak, intently looking for something, anything in the burnt wood, evidence or markings, anything, but there was clearly nothing except for the damage caused by the lightning. He couldn't avoid feeling a little frustrated with that. He had been expecting to find something more. The type of person that would do something like this, can't hardly resist the temptation to leave their 'Mark'. With a tired sigh, Draco backed away from the tree and looked around. The feeling that there was magic there hadn't abandoned him. He wished he had found someone in the house, preferably the muggle who had found the body, so that he could ask him some questions. He really needed to find out where he was and the best way to do that, Malfoy concluded, was to go into town and ask. People there surely would know something. Turning away from the tree, Draco started back toward the car. He couldn't say that the trip had been very productive, but a! t least now there was no doubt in his mind that it was the work of a wizard. And a very powerful wizard.

When Draco reached the car, however, he couldn't help a surprised gasp. Waiting for him, standing on the hood, was an owl. He recognized the owl as being from the department, even without seeing it arrive. He had been so absorbed by the investigation of the oak. Curious, Malfoy approached the animal and took the letter it was carrying. The hasty calligraphy was Jones's.

"Oh shit!" Draco roared after reading it. This was just what he needed to make his day complete. With a pencil, he scribbled an answer: "I'm on my way" on the back of the note and put it back on the owl's leg, who flew off immediately. Malfoy wasn't going to town now. He couldn't go to town now. His choice had instantly been made for him.

In a hurry, he got in the car and started it. He needed to get back to London. As fast as possible.