All Our Yesterdays

All Our Yesterdays

Chapter 3 - Madness

"What does it mean?" These were the first words that came out of Draco's mouth as soon as he got inside of Sirius Black's house and found aurors trying to tell his agents what to do.

"We are assuming control of this case," said Ronald Weasley with petulance. While Potter had preferred to become a professional Quidditch player, Weasley and Granger had decided to continue in the career of 'defenders of the world against the dark arts' and had become aurors. They worked together, and it was agreed, but not by Draco of course, that they formed a great team.

"The hell you're assuming this case! There's no evidence of dark arts. The jurisdiction is mine and you have no authority here!"

"If you wanted this case so much, Malfoy, then why have you been gone most of the day? We..."

"I was working, Granger, which is a lot more than can be said for you, who has free time enough to steel other people's cases..."

"You listen, Malfoy..."

"You listen, Weasley! You don't have the ability nor the experience to handle a situation involving kidnapping. Investigator Jones, who I left in charge of everything, has more capacity to solve this case than you two put together!"

"And by the way, was it all this ability that you used to go after my sister? I'm not surprised that she was never found!"

"Ron!" came Harry Potter's voice, in a reproofing tone. He and Black had arrived in the room just in time to hear the last statement, and were stunned. Even Granger stared at her husband, horrified. That was too cruel.

"You can stay, Weasley," Malfoy said in a death voice. "But just because this is Sirius Black's house and I doubt that he would kick you out of here. Stay, as a family friend, but try giving another order to my agents and I myself will kick your ass out." And with that, he left the room, ignoring all the eyes that were watching him.

Draco was distraught. The only reason he left was that, if he had stood there one more second, he would end up strangling Weasley - which wouldn't be a politically intelligent decision - or lose control and start to cry - which would be even worse. With his hands in his pockets, he leaned his back against the side wall of the house and closed his eyes, trying to pretend he didn't know about the huge emptiness in his chest, trying not to feel his heart beating rapidly. At times like this, he really wished he didn't have a heart, like people were used to thinking. Everything would be easier if he could just forget... but he couldn't. That was all his fault.

Tired, Draco took his hands out of his pockets and took the pack of cigarettes from inside his cloak. He always had one with him, but he rarely did what he was doing: opening it and pulling out a cigarette. Then, with his wand, he conjured a small flame and lit it. He put the pack back in his cloak and took a long drag. It was impossible to do it and not remember Ginny. If she were there, now, she would surely be red with anger. Or she would smell the scent of smoke on his clothes and be angry when he got home. He loved to see her angry. She made him promise a dozen times that he wouldn't smoke anymore. Dozen of times, but Draco always came back to smoking. He always broke his promises.

Closing his eyes, he took another drag and let his head fall back. It was already night and there was a soft breeze in the air. The sky was clear. Exactly like the night he last saw her...

"Malfoy." Granger's voice intruded on his musing.

"What do you want?" he asked in a tired voice.

"Malfoy, what Ron said..."

"Is the purest truth, isn't it?"

"No, it's not and you know that. We all know."

"Oh, please, spare me. I don't need this now."

"This what?"

"Your compassion. Your pity."

"Malfoy, this is not about pity..."

"Ah, no! Of course not! What is it, then, Granger? I don't like you and you don't like me, so why don't we simply stop pretending? I don't need your pity! I don't want your pity!" he said with disgust.

"Mal..." Mione still tried, but she was once more interrupted.

"Do you think I don't know what you all think? 'Poor Malfoy, who is still looking for his wife as if she were alive, who refuses to see what's so obvious!...'"

"Nobody thinks like that. Only an insane person would use the words 'poor' and 'Malfoy' in the same sentence."

Draco responded with a dry laugh.

"Ah, but I am poor! In all meanings," he completed, throwing the cigarette to the ground and stepping on it.

"We all miss her... You staying here feeling pity for yourself won't help!"

"Ah, you all miss her?!" The other interrupted with an ironic smile. "By any chance, do any of you wake up in the middle of the night hoping to see her there? Do you miss her out of tune voice singing in the shower? Or the smell of adust food coming from the kitchen because she doesn't know how to cook?" he started, approaching. "Do you miss her kisses in the morning? The way she could make everything all right? Are you forced to go to sleep and wake up with a huge emptiness in your chest, with the unsettling knowledge that, no matter what you do, she's not there and will never be?" At this point he was facing Granger from a distance of around four inches. She lowered her head and deflected the look when he finished. "That's what I thought." And after a pause, "Go away, Granger. You're not my 'friend'. I don't need your pity, or your help, or comforting," he completed, turning his back and departing again. Hermione said nothing. Just went back inside the house. Draco waited a few minutes until he had calmed down and then followed her. However much he wanted to stay, however much he wanted to disappear from this world, he had a job to do.

**********

It was ten p.m.. Knockturn Alley was dark. There were no lights on, no lamp-posts, nothing. The silence was absolute. The old and dusty shops were closed, and their obscure merchandise showing in the shop windows, gave an even more sinister atmosphere to the place. There were no people in the streets. The place was apparently desert. In some buildings, however, strategically located, were the agents of the Department of Missing Persons. They were on alert, ready for anything. You never know for sure what may happen during the delivery of a ransom payment. Things might go fine, or they might not.

During the day, they had examined the trash can where the money was to be delivered, and after that, they sealed it off and kept a constant watch on it. Nobody had come to tamper with it. They could only assume, then, that the kidnapper would come after the delivery, to collect the money. Thus, they were prepared to lie in wait the entire night. They would not leave until they had arrested at least one of the criminals.

Promptly at ten o'clock, Malfoy saw Black arriving. Obviously, they would have preferred to use an agent in his place, but Black insisted on delivering it in person. He came walking slowly, his steps echoing in the curb, discretely looking around. He didn't see anything. There was nothing to be seen. When he got close to the trash can, he put the bag he was carrying containing the money, inside it, and then with his hands in his pockets, he took another look around. He was the only person on the street. No soul, no sound, no other breathing. A little frustrated, he silently went back the way he had come. Draco released his breath when he saw the man disappear around the corner. He feared that Black, at the last minute, would decide to play the hero, but he behaved extremely well. Now, with all eyes stuck on the trash can, Draco and the others waited.

The tense minutes had stretched into hours. Hours of tension. Draco didn't feel sleepy. He was determined, but felt tired. Every minute that passed made him more angry and caused more doubts. Why didn't the kidnapper show up? Where would the girl be? The smallest movement in the street was enough to make all of the agents jump, but every time it happened they soon realized it was a false alarm. Dawn approached, all were exhausted, and still no one appeared to collect the money.

"Maybe he's waiting till the shops open. He might try to hide among the crowd," Draco muttered more to himself then to anybody else, but Jones, who was beside him, commented.

"Still, it's weird. People would notice someone digging in a trash can in daylight."

"Not if he's the garbage collector," Malfoy responded without moving his eyes from the target.

"Do you think..."

"I don't know, Jones. It was just an idea..." the other answered, suddenly distracted by an owl in low flight, moving toward them.

It was all black, and when it got close enough, Draco could see a large red band tied to its leg. That was the sign indicating an urgent owl. His heartbeat accelerated, imagining what could be important enough to be sent to him in the middle of a stake-out. Without error, the owl flew directly to the window near to where he was. That couldn't be good.

Quickly, Malfoy untied the letter it was carrying and torn open the envelope. As soon as he read the first few words, he froze. It wasn't true. It couldn't be. With a questioning look toward his agents, he left the room running, leaving everybody in a state of panick. He went downstairs and opened the street door. He knew exactly what he had to find out.

He walked with determination towards the trash can, still holding the letter in his hand. It couldn't be true. At the last moment, he hesitated. And if it was a trap? No, he rejected the idea. Nobody would try so hard to get him. There were easier ways to do it. Finally, he bent over the trash can. It was empty.

*****

"How can this be possible?" Draco yelled at his agents. They were all gathered in the department, and this time, they wouldn't be getting out of a very serious reprimanding. "Huh? Could somebody here answer me? What you did today was a stupid demonstration of incompetence! We were all just sitting there, watching on the ransom money when actually, the money was already gone??? You should've examined the trash can! You should've been sure that this wouldn't happen, but did you? No! And while we were there, losing precious time, the kidnapper could be killing the girl if it was his plan! Where were your heads???" Draco was furious. When he saw the money was gone, he almost freaked out. A demonstration of incompetence like this in the case of the kidnapping of Sirius Black's daughter really wasn't what Draco needed at the moment. The girl, luckily, was okay. She was left three blocks from her house and came home walking. She didn't remember anything. A very powerful memory charm was used, and trying to remove it could cause even more damage. In Draco's opinion, it really would be better if she didn't remember anything, even if it made the work of catching the kidnapper more difficult. What was unforgivable, however, was the incompetence his people had shown. If anything serious had happened to the girl, they would now be in a great deal of trouble. "You acted as if none of you have ever done this before! Like a bunch of beginners who, apart from being inexperienced, are stupid!" He hit the table strongly. Nobody dared to answer. Actually, they all were still shocked with what had happened. The money couldn't have just walked away by itself. Surely, someone missed something in the examination of the trash can, some spell, probably a port-key. And it was a beginner's error, indeed. Malfoy was right in being angry.

The reprimanding lasted another half an hour. Draco hardly spared words when calling people's attention. When he finished, he went to his office without talking to anyone. The only time he was disturbed was when his secretary came in to deliver the mail. He took the envelopes still annoyed and glanced at the return addresses. He threw almost all of them in the drawer of letters that would never be read, and opened only one, which had no sender, but he knew it was from Creevey. After such a day, he would surely ask for some exclusive statement. Reading the letter, Draco soon confirmed his suspicions. Creevey still wanted news about the woman of the tree. Malfoy scribbled on a piece of paper 'Nothing you can publish and I'm still investigating' and tied the letter to the leg of his personal owl, dispatching it.

It was late afternoon. He passed the entire day so occupied with the kidnapping case and then in his office that he hadn't noticed the time pass. Most of the investigators had already left. Only the ones on duty remained. Draco stood up and started putting on his suit coat and cloak, ready to go home, when he heard someone knock on the door. He turned, extremely annoyed.

"Come in," he said with a voice that meant the opposite.

"Sir." He heard Eames' voice, after opening the door.

"Do you want to talk to me?" he asked, still rude.

"Yes."

"Come in, then. Don't stand by the door like an idiot. " Eames obeyed. Whatever he wanted, now there was no going back. "What happened?"

"It's about the trash can incident..."

"Haven't I said enough about it today?"

"Sir, it was me who examined the trash can before it was sealed off. There was nothing wrong with it, I assure you. It was absolutely clean and no one from the outside moved it. Only people from the department."

"What are you trying to say?"

"Nothing," the other answered quickly. "I'm not accusing anybody. I'm just saying that, when I saw the trash can, it was clean, I assure you."

Draco considered the man's words. Eames wasn't an old agent, but he wasn't just a beginner. He was competent and serious. Always extremely serious, which made people trust him instinctively. Malfoy couldn't detect any lies, and still, it was hard to believe his words. If it was true, then they had a traitor among them, right under their noses.

"All right, Eames. I understand what you're saying. Thank you," Draco responded sending him away with the move of his head. He obeyed again, happy to have it over with so easily, without upsetting his superior again. Malfoy soon followed him, leaving the office and apparating home. He was feeling odd about what Eames had said, and whatever he tried to do, he couldn't shake the feeling there was something going on, and that something was very wrong. The conversation with Eames was the last straw. From now on, Draco decided, he could trust no one. Absolutely no one.

Arriving home, Draco took off his cloak, suit coat and tie and threw them on the bed, together with the buff envelope he was carrying - the same one Anne had sent him. Then, rolling up his shirt sleeves, he went to the kitchen. Tonight he wouldn't order take-out. It was becoming an annoying habit. So, he opened the fridge, looking for something quick and easy to prepare. His culinary abilities were quite limited. He finally realized something very distressing: he needed to go shopping urgently. He found practically no food. Finally, he opened the upper compartment of the fridge, "dug" out an old frozen dish. It was still good for eating, so he took his wand and did a spell to warm it. It would probably taste awful, but who cared? It was better than nothing.

He came back to the living room with the plate and a fork and sat down on the sofa just like the other night, placing one of his feet on the coffee table. It had been some time since he had had a decent meal, sitting at the dinner table. It would be useless anyway, and would only remind him of his own loneliness. He finished eating quickly - better, he finished swallowing the food, because he could barely feel its taste - and took the dishes to the kitchen. He could wash them in the morning.

Then, in the living room, he opened the envelope again and took out the documents inside it. The coroner had given him a copy of the autopsy report and Draco started to read it more carefully. With every detail, that crime was becoming more and more mysterious. That day, he had left the sand sample to be examined by the wizards from the laboratory, but he would have to wait two or three days for the report, and the waiting was terrible. Malfoy hated to wait. If he at least knew who the woman was! A simple name would make things a lot easier, but no. He was still left in the dark.

He was examining it again, focusing in on the photos of the injuries of the body when the silence was broken by the sudden ring of the phone. He knew it. Somehow, Draco knew when he heard the first ring who would be on the other end. He tried to resist the temptation to stand up and answer it, but he couldn't. In the end, he knew that the man had the answers to all his questions, and the need to solve the mystery was too great.

"Good evening, Mr. Malfoy," the voice said without waiting for him to say hello. "So, we meet again, huh?"

"You called my house. Who the hell else did you expected to answer?"

"I see your patience is a little bit less than usual today."

"For you, my patience will always be non-existent."

The voice laughed.

"How do you expect to find out what happened without exercising this important virtue?"

"Can we get to the subject? What do you want?"

"You continue to insist on asking me that. I've already told you: the question is not what I want, but what you want."

"You don't know what I want."

"You want to find her, isn't it?" Draco trembled. "You want to bring back the love of your life and make her happy forever. Am I close to the truth, Mr. Malfoy?"

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"On the contrary. I know exactly what I'm saying. The problem is: is it possible to bring her back? Is she still alive, and if she is, will she want to come back to you?" Draco closed his eyes, trying to control himself. This man had an amazing ability of touching the worst wounds.

"I keep telling you," he finally said, trying to sound unemotional, "You don't know what you're talking about." He needed the other to think that this wasn't affecting him.

"Yes, I know. Wound you like to hear another little thing I know? I know you went to Scotland today."

"You bas..." Draco started, but the understanding finally reached him. "It was you! You stole the body, you son of a bi..."

"Oh, please," the other interrupted before the phrase was finished. "Don't offend my mother when yours isn't much better, right?"

"I've already said I don't have a mother!"

"And I've already said you do! And you should pay more attention to her, let's say, but I don't expect you to take my advices right now. Maybe in the future, but not now."

This time it was Draco who laughed.

"I will never take any of your advice! Never, you shit! You're playing with me. Do you think I don't know? You know nothing about what happened to Ginny! You're just using it to try to get to me. And you know what? It's not fucking working! If you expect me to believe in half a word that comes from your mouth, think again! I wasn't born yesterday and I will never believe you!"

"That's too bad. Really, I thought we could start a mutually beneficial relationship here."

"Mutually beneficial?! Mutually beneficial when you steal the body, hide evidence and lie?!"

"I just do what I have to do. Don't we all?"

"You enjoy it."

"And don't you? The Slytherin you were once, started in the Dark Arts, future Death Eater, follower of the only real Lord, still have fun with it, don't you? Still look down and laugh at all the mere mortals with their noble values and vain sacrifices and dignifying truths. You know more than that. You know better than that. Or had this girl dominated you so much that you forgot your origins?"

"How could I forget, when my past pursues me every instant?" Draco answered in a ferric tone. "You don't know me, so don't say what you don't know."

"What are you saying? That if You-Know-Who hadn't been defeated, you would have turned against him and against your own father? I can't believe it."

"You can believe, or not believe, whatever you want. I couldn't care less."

"You really don't believe it, do you?"

"Don't believe what?" Draco asked impatiently.

"That I know what happened to your wife."

Draco took a while to answer. Finally, his voice was firm.

"No, I don't believe it. You're bluffing."

"Well, you might be right," the man answered as if having fun with the situation. "But you might be wrong. Are you willing to take that risk?" he asked, finally, hanging up the phone immediately. Malfoy had his mouth opened, ready to answer, but he didn't even know what words he would say. Would he take the risk? This was a dangerous game, but there really wasn't any choice of not playing? Deep inside, he knew there wasn't. He knew he couldn't ignore those calls, ignore all the evidence. He was an easy prey, he knew, but he couldn't avoid it. He needed to find out. Needed to find her. Even if it was only to find a bunch of bones in place of what was once a beautiful woman. He needed to see her one last time. Even if it was to say his final good bye.

*******

The next morning, Malfoy didn't waste time. Before any unpleasant surprises could stop him, he got dressed, had breakfast, scrabbled a note to Anne saying he probably wouldn't be in the office till late afternoon, and left. He had a clear idea of what he had to do, and to start, he went to the port-keys point. He had to go to Edinburgh again and apparating would be dangerous due to the long distance.

Arriving there, he first went to the local police to see if they had any news about the missing body. As expected, the security tapes didn't help. The body simply disappeared. Obviously there was magic involved, but till they find the one responsible, there wasn't much left to do. After hearing the unpleasant - but not exactly unexpected - news, Malfoy took another port-key and rented a car to finally do what he had planned yesterday: visit the small town close to Erick McDermontt's farm. He really wanted to talk to the man who had found the body.

The place was about thirty two miles from the farm, and this time he had no difficulties in getting there. It really was a small town, with a small hospital, police station, school, and a few shops - most of them related to sheep breeding - a small inn and two or three restaurants. Most of the people were driving pickup trucks, more indicated to the countryside life, so Draco was quickly noticed arriving in a black convertible, with his impeccable navy suit, stripped tie and sun glasses. He parked close to the police station and got out carrying a folder with a copy of the coroner's report. Everything about him seemed to yell "I work for the government" and, in a way, he liked the respect that it brought him. He was, after all, a Malfoy, even if - to his great disappointment - under covered as a muggle.

He got out of the car, putting the glasses in his pocket. The day was bright, the sun was shining. A day made for kids to enjoy. Draco saw some of them playing in the square, but he entered the building without wasting a moment. The painful memories seemed to follow him wherever he went.

Inside, everything was silent. He saw someone in a uniform calmly reading the newspaper on the counter. There was a door leading to another room - the door had a square window which allowed you to see the interior of it - where another man, also in a uniform, was sitting at a desk, writing something. No one else could be seen. Draco really wished that they had so little work to do in his Department.

When he approached the counter, the officer who was reading the newspaper raised his eyes to face him and didn't seemed surprised to see him.

"Oh, you're here because of the woman in the tree, right?"

"How did you know?"

"We don't have too many interesting cases to investigate. Are you a journalist? No, because if you were..."

"I'm not a journalist," Draco interrupted him. "I work for the government," he completed, showing his badge. This time, the official seemed surprised.

"Well, then this thing must be serious."

"Could I talk to the detective in charge of the case, please?" The other laughed at the question.

"We don't have many detectives. But you can talk to the sheriff. He is the 'detective in charge' of the cases around here," the official answered in a funny tone while leaving the counter and knocking on the door of the room. "Sir," he said when the other opened the door, "This man works for the government..."

"My name is Draco Malfoy," Draco interrupted extending his hand, "And I'm investigating the case of the woman found inside the tree at the Erick McDermontt's farm."

"Yes, sure. There wouldn't be any other case that would be worth coming all the way out here to investigate. Please, come in," he completed allowing Malfoy to enter the room.

"I've already talked to the coroner in Edinburgh," Draco said without wasting time, as soon as he sat down behind the desk. "And he gave me a copy of the autopsy report, but now I need some more information."

"Have you been to the place? I can take you there..."

"No, I visited the farm yesterday. It won't be necessary to go there again. At least not for now. But I have a few questions," he completed, getting a pencil to write on his notepad.

"Go ahead."

"Were you the one responsible for the case?"

"Yes. I mean, two investigators from Edinburgh came, and it was them who took the body to be examined, and the other evidence... We don't have the facilities here to do the tests here, but I was the first official at the crime scene. Really, I've never seen anything like it before. I'm not surprised that old Erick was so disturbed..."

"Disturbed?"

"Yes, didn't you know?"

"Obviously, not."

"Well, ever since he found the body, he hasn't been the same. He's been placed in a sanatorium."

"He's gone crazy?" Draco asked, surprised.

"I'm sure the doctors have an elaborated technical term to describe it, but in the end, I think 'gone crazy' is probably the best way to describe it. He speaks non-sense stuff."

"At any time, was he considered to be a suspect in the case?"

"Well, he has always been considered a little weird around here... Especially after that tree grew overnight right in the middle of his property, but a murderer? No, I don't think Erick would be capable... To be honest, I still have difficulty believing that such a horrible thing could be done by any man's hand..."

"What do you mean?"

"Seems like the work of the devil... you know," the other continued uncomfortable with Malfoy's deep look. "Witchcraft... Really bad people stuff..." Draco had to control himself to not say something. It was just too hard listening to a damned muggle talking like that about something he was simply too ignorant to understand.

"You didn't have any missing persons cases during the period that the tree appeared, did you?" he asked controlling his expression, preferring to ignore the last comment.

"No, we didn't. We couldn't identify the woman. Nobody knows her, or rather, knew her."

"I couldn't avoid noticing that although the farm is empty, it's still being cared for by someone."

"Yes. It's the boy Thomas. He used to work for Erick before everything happened and now he's still the only person who has the guts to go there. He has kept everything in order."

"A boy?"

"Well, now he must be around fifteen, sixteen. It's just a habit of calling him boy."

"Do you know where he is now?"

"He must be at home, with his mother. Why?"

"I'd like to talk to him. Could we make a small visit?"

"Yes, of course. Let's go," the sheriff said, standing up and getting his hat off the rack. Draco followed him.

The house of 'small Thomas' wasn't far. To be honest, Draco thought no houses were far from the police station. Just around twenty minutes walking and you could probably cross the city. Along the way, he couldn't avoid noticing all the people who stared at him, surprised or curious. Surely, he would be a subject of conversations for a few days. He also couldn't avoid noticing that the sheriff seemed to know everybody who passed by them by the name. Undoubtedly, he was a good source of information about these people's lives.

They stopped in front of a wooden door, of a white house. It was small, but the garden was very well cared for. The sheriff rang the bell and soon a woman came to the door. She was wearing a kitchen apron - she was probably making lunch - and had light hair and a pleasant face. She wasn't an old woman. Probably around thirty. Surely, less than forty.

"Good morning, Mrs. McNeil."

"Good morning, sheriff," the woman answered with a questioning look. "What can I do for you?"

"This is Draco Malfoy," the other answered, "And he works for the government. He's investigating that tree case."

"Yes, sure."

"If it wouldn't be too much trouble, we'd like to talk to Tom."

"No, of course not. Please, come in," she answered, letting them in. Draco mentally thanked the sheriff for all the kindness the situation required. If there was one thing he hated to do was to waste time pretending he was polite when, inside, he could barely wait to get what he wanted. "You can wait in the living room," she said, pointing at a door. "I'll call Thomas."

Both went in and sat down on the sofa, waiting. It didn't take too long, however, and the boy showed up at the door. He looked very much like his mother, he also had light hair. He looked tall and strong for fifteen, but his expression was that of a boy.

"Hello, sheriff," he said as soon as he came in, and turned to Draco.

"Draco Malfoy," said Draco, extending his hand and indicating for Thomas to sit down.

"Thomas McNeil," he answered, shaking the extending hand. "My mother said you wanted to talk to me about the case involving Mr. McDermontt's farm."

"Yes, Thomas," Draco answered. "I'm investigating the murder and the sheriff told me you used to work for the farm's owner."

"Yes, since I was twelve."

"Have you ever notice anything strange there?"

"Well, I don't know... Certainly, the tree thing was weird, and well, once in a while we felt weird things, but besides that..."

"Felt weird things?"

"Yes." The boy seemed uncomfortable. "Like shivers or chills or the feeling that there was someone watching us, things like that. Most people thought the farm was haunted."

"And still, you wanted to work there?"

"Well, I liked Mr. McDermontt. He told good stories and he was patient. He wasn't a bad man. You don't think he killed that woman, do you?" Thomas seemed horrified by the idea.

"No, I don't think that. I would just like to see if there was any kind of pattern in the things that happened at the farm."

"Pattern? No, I don't think so...I used to think it was just fertile imagination, but now..."

"You're not so sure?"

"No, I'm not."

"Did you go to visit Mr. McDermontt in the sanatorium?"

"No. I wanted to go, but my mother didn't let me. She said I was too young to go to a place like that."

"Very well then," Draco concluded. "I think that's all I have to ask for now. Anything else, I'll come back."

"Sure. Whenever I can help," the boy said. He really seemed honest.

The sheriff and Malfoy said good bye, and left the house.

"Are you coming back to the police station?" the other asked.

"No. Actually, I need to talk to Erick McDermontt."

"Are you sure? I don't think he'll be of great help."

"I won't know if I don't try, will I?" Draco said a little impatiently. He still hadn't forgotten the comment about witchcraft.

"Well, in this case I can tell you how to get there. It's not so far. About a hundred miles."

"Great," Draco responded while going back to the car. He was determined to get all the information he could there. He didn't want to come back to the 'end of the world'.

The sanatorium was really big. An old building, bigger than he expected. It used to be a treatment center for tuberculosis, but now it worked as a psychiatric hospital. Draco soon noticed it was managed by catholic nuns. There was one at the reception desk. He identified himself and the woman didn't seem surprised. Surely, they were aware of the circumstances that had brought Erick McDermontt there.

He waited a short time in the waiting room, until a doctor came to see him.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Malfoy," she said as she approached. "I'm Doctor Jenkins."

"You are responsible for Erick McDermontt?"

"Yes, I am."

"I'd like to speak to him."

"Today isn't a regular visiting day..."

"And I'm not a regular visitor," Malfoy interrupted impatient. "I'm investigating a murder. Would you like to be charged with obstruction of justice?"

"That won't be necessary," the doctor answered, annoyed. "Anyway, I can't see how a conversation with him might help."

"That is for me to decide. Not you."

"He's not very coherent at the moment," she completed ignoring Draco's last comment.

"What is he suffering from, by the way?"

"We don't know for sure."

"You don't know for sure?" Malfoy asked, raising his eyebrows. Really, it was a miracle that these muggles could cure the flu with such incompetent doctors.

"Well, we believe he's suffering from some kind of post-traumatic stress or something like that. There aren't clinical reasons for his symptoms, nor a history of insanity in his family. Anyway, a mental disease like schizophrenia, for example, would hardly take so long to disclose itself. He would have shown symptoms long ago.

"Didn't he?"

"No, From what we could find out, he was an entirely sane man until a short time ago."

"You mean: till he found the body in the tree."

"Yes, that was the event that prompted the break down."

"Will he talk to me?"

"Well, I don't know. But, even if he does, don't expect much help," she completed. "Follow me. I'll take you to Mr. McDermontt."

Draco followed her through a large well illuminated corridor. Several patients passed accompanied by a nurse. The place was deathly silent. At the end of the corridor, the doctor stopped in front of a locked door. She opened and said to Malfoy:

"This is his room. You can go in. Good luck," she said, giving Draco room to pass by her.

The room was small, but clean and airy. It had a large window with gratings, a bed and a small table with two chairs. At first, Draco thought it was empty and was turning back to the doctor to ask if this was her idea of a stupid joke, when he noticed a shrunken figure in the corner against the wall. The man seemed so absorbed, with a lost look, that he didn't seem to notice that there was someone in the room. Draco approached, slowly, and knelt in front of the man.

"Erick," he called, but the man didn't seem to notice. He continued listlessly. "Erick," Draco tried again, but didn't get an answer. That was frustrating. "Erick, I want to talk to you about the woman." When he heard that, he seemed to focus a little bit. "The woman you found on your farm."

"No, no!" McDermontt suddenly said, covering his ears with his hands. "I don't want to talk about it! I don't want to talk about it!"

"But I need you to. I want to find out what happened to her. Don't you want to help me? To catch who killed her?"

"You don't understand! You don't understand!" the other answered, nervous, without uncovering his ears.

"What don't I understand, Erick? You have to help me."

"You can't catch him! You can't catch him!"

"Why not?" Draco asked carefully.

"You can't catch the devil! Can't catch the devil!" the other answered, holding Malfoy by his shoulders and looking in to his eyes. "It was him who killed her! It was him!"

"The devil?"

"Yes, the devil," Erick answered, standing up and starting to walk from side to side. "He took her. He killed her. She was so pretty... She showed up in my dream, do you understand?" he asked turning to Draco for an instant and then started to walk again. "He took her and he'll take me too... He'll take everybody... You don't understand! You don't understand! He'll kill us all! US ALL!"

"Calm down, Erick, calm down. The devil won't reach you here."

"Of course he will!" the other answered with a laugh. "He can reach me anywhere. He planted that tree at my house. He killed her! He killed her! And he wants to kill everybody! He's going to kill everybody! You don't understand! Don't understand!"

"Erick," Draco said holding the man by his shoulders and making him stop. "I will understand if you explain it to me. Can you do that? Explain to me what happened?": The other seemed to concentrate for a few seconds.

"I don't know what happened."

"You don't know?"

"All I know is that he took her."

"The devil?"

"Yes, the devil. He stole her soul and then killed her. He wants to steal more souls. Don't you understand? He's going to kill everybody..."

"And he needs to steal souls to kill everybody?"

"He needs to steal souls to come to the world. He's not in the world now, but to kill he needs to come to the world... And he's going to kill everybody... He wants to kill everybody... You don't understand, you don't understand... " Erick completed, starting to walk again. "He's not a muggle, the devil... No, he's not... But he wants to kill everybody... all the muggles..."

"I beg your pardon???" Draco asked, surprised. "He wants to kill all the what???"

"All the muggles all the muggles all the muggles all the muggles... You don't understand... She was the queen of diamonds and he killed her... He killed her killed her killed her! He's going to kill everybody! He's going to kill everybody! He's going to kill everybody! NO!!!!" Erick suddenly screamed, twisting and covering his ears. "No! I don't want to hear! Make him stop! Make him stop!!! Please! Make him stop!!!"

"Erick," Malfoy said as soft as he could, approaching to the man.

"Make him stop! Make him stop!" McDermontt surprised him, grasping him desperately.

"I'll make him," he muttered, "I'll make him."

"Please! Please!" the other begged, letting himself fall to the ground, crying compulsively. "Please! Please!..."

Malfoy came closer to him and, making sure that there wasn't anyone looking through the door's window, took a small bottle from his pocket.

"Erick, look at me." The man turned, still crying. "Whenever 'he' is bothering you, drink a little of this." And gave him the bottle, "And you'll be able to sleep."

"But he speaks in my dreams...You don't understand..."

"If you drink from this bottle, he won't speak. I promise. Is that all right?"

"All right. All right," the other answered, calming down. "All right all right..." He kept repeating while Draco stood up and left the room. Outside, he found the doctor waiting.

"So, was he of some help?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered. "More than you think." And he was telling the truth. The woman had no way of knowing, but he had already seen this kind of dementia before. And he knew what was capable of causing it: very powerful magic. Such strong magic that that old man's mind wasn't capable of absorbing it or understanding, and he had gone mad. But not completely. Draco would be a fool if he ignored everything the man had said. Especially since he had mentioned the word 'muggle'. It was likely that he knew the truth, in some way, but simply couldn't understand, or pronounce it.

If Draco was worried before arriving there, when he left he was twice as worried. Seemed like this case was getting more and more obscure at every new discovery, instead of getting clearer. Later, while getting in the car and driving back, his soul was feeling very heavy. He needed to find out what was happening, and soon, but he didn't know what to do. The body was stolen, the woman couldn't be identified and the man who found her was crazy. The only evidences he had was a piece of glass and a little bit of sand, and still, he didn't know if they would be useful. He was at a dead end.

He came back to Edinburgh and from there, to London. When he arrived in the city, it was already late afternoon, and Draco was exhausted. He quickly passed by the office, as he had said to Anne, just to check on how things were going, if there were any other important cases or if there were any new clues for old cases, but no. Everything was calm. The day had been quiet and there had been no significant events. As soon as he was sure that everything was all right, he went home. He was feeling tired both physically and mentally. And, more than that, he was feeling frustrated, with no clues or ways to follow through.

When he finally apparated home, he was so exhausted that he ended up doing something that he hadn't done since he'd gotten his license: instead of apparating inside the house as always, Draco apparatated outside, in the corridor. He cursed himself mentally for the mistake, but he was too tired even to be angry. He just looked for the keys in his pocket and, when he didn't find them, he took his wand and muttered, "Alohomora." The door opened and he went inside, closing it. He took off his cloak and suit coat and left them on a chair. That was when he noticed it. It was fallen on the ground, close to the door, as if someone had pushed it under the door: a card. Draco approached curiously and took it: it was the queen of diamonds. Immediately, Erick's words came to mind: "...she was the queen of diamonds and he killed her..." Intrigued, Malfoy turned the card and, on the back, in small letters, he read the name: Lindsey Morgan.

"She was the queen of diamonds and he killed her," Draco repeated, in a low voice, finally understanding it. "He killed her."

He just stood there holding the card. Malfoy took a little floo powder and threw it in the fireplace. Suddenly, he knew exactly what he had to do. His path, very mysterious so far, was now surprisingly clear. Surprisingly clear.