Of Muggles and Murder: Prologue
I'm posting this only here for now until I'm sure that the story is the way I want it to be. Before I post at HPFF, I might add some more to the end.
Rating: high PG-13
Warnings: violent content, sensitive issues/themes
Summary: September 8, 1888. The body of Annie Chapman has been discovered, the second of grotesque murders in Whitechapel. Both the muggle government and the Ministry of Magic begin to worry about the affect these murders will have on the public. The Ministry sends out Auror Albus Dumbledore to make sure that no wizard is involved in the killings. Meanwhile, Whitehall chooses its own detective, someone who is perhaps the most famous detective of all time....
Prologue: February 1998
I first discovered the chapbook on the very top shelf in Albus’ study. It was obvious that no one had looked at it for many years - the pages were yellowed, crumbling in my hands, and it was covered in what could have been nearly an inch in dust. It was leather bound and overstuffed with pictures, newspaper clippings, and what appeared to be journal entries. I climbed back down the ladder and set the book on his, now my, desk. Fawkes chirped, staring down at the book with as much curiosity as I was. At the time, however, there was no opportunity for me to examine its pages with great detail. There was a war to fight and the school was being closed. My presence was needed elsewhere.
Eighteen months later, I can finally sit before the fire and read this most curious volume. The war is now over, with many dead and many more who will never be the same. In the coming year, the Ministry will allow Hogwarts to be reopened, but I digress. It is the book that is important, the war has its own story entirely separate from the one that the book was about to reveal to me. There were dates scribbled in the front cover. I knew the hand that wrote it well.
September - November 1888
Albus Dumbledore, Auror for the Ministry of Magic
I know little of Albus’ history before I met him as Transfiguration professor when I first entered Hogwarts as a student. It has been said that he had begun his career as an Auror, but rumour had also stated that he had travelled the world many times over. To me, it made more sense that he would have been an Auror. The skills he demonstrated whenever Tom Riddle, and later He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, wreaked havoc revealed his past training.
The very first page contained two newspaper clippings, one from the Daily Prophet and the other from the Times. Both told the same story of a terrible murder in Spitalfields, naming the dead woman and providing select details as to her mode of death. The Times stated that the authorities were making inquiries in the area and searching for connections to a previous, and similar, murder only weeks before. The Daily Prophet, meanwhile, suggested that a wizard could be somehow involved. Although muggles could be brutal in their natures, the method of death was singular and the Ministry would thoroughly investigate the matter.
When I saw the deceased woman’s name, I guessed just what Albus had been involved with. There was only one Annie Chapman known in history and her murderer was known by muggle and wizard alike. The name still struck fear into those who heard it. The East End, particularly Whitechapel, was known around the world for its terrible past as the scene of so many gruesome murders.
I turned the page. Albus’ spidery handwriting covered its entirity.
September 9, 1888.
It is, indeed, a very strange case that I have been offered. Langley seemed upset that it was not offered to him, but Septimus was quite adamant that I would be more appropriate when dealing with muggles. A muggle woman has been murdered in Spitalfields, and the Minister of Magic believes that a wizard is involved. With some of the things I have seen so far as an Auror, it would not such a difficult idea to believe. The modus operandi is far worse than many have seen before and it would take a very angry person to inflict them upon another being.
By the time I arrived in Hanbury Street, the muggle police were in the process of clearing away the body. The ground where she had originally lain was covered in blood and the detectives were examining the area for any evidence. One of the constables approached me and I showed him the identification Septimus had provided me with. Apparently, to the muggles I am a government agent of a sort, though I cannot tell quite what department I am supposed to be working for. It was obviously enough for the constable, who nodded me in.
“Aye, sir. You’d be the second one this morning. The other one’s o’er there. The tall gentleman by that wall there.” He pointed to a clean-shaven man holding a magnifying glass to his eye as he stared at what appeared to be a crack in the wall.
I thanked the constable and went first to see the body before it was taken to the mortuary. One of the men raised the sheet and I, even after all that I have seen, turned away in disgust. What occurs to animals in a slaughterhouse is more humane than what occurred to that woman. Her murderer had slashed her dozens of times with a sharp blade and I cannot even write anymore than that. Let it be safe to say that the coroner would not have to see much before he could explain how she died. I gave the men leave to finish their jobs and found the tall man, the one pointed out as another government agent, beside me.
“It is a brutal business,” he said. His voice was a touch sardonic. I wondered how he could find any humour in such a crime. “Constable Jones tells me that you are also here for the government. Perhaps some mistake was made?”
“I am afraid that I don’t know,” I replied. “My employer did not explain much about any of this to me. Only that it was of the utmost importance.”
“Ah, that is the first thing one needs to learn about working for the government.” The sarcasm was becoming more evident. “One comes out with less knowledge than one entered with. But I am being rude to you, sir. My name is Sherlock Holmes.”
At the time, the name meant nothing to me. “I am Albus Dumbledore.”
We shook hands as the carriage containing the body rolled off down the narrow street.
Any thoughts, opinions, and comments are welcome. :)
Rating: high PG-13
Warnings: violent content, sensitive issues/themes
Summary: September 8, 1888. The body of Annie Chapman has been discovered, the second of grotesque murders in Whitechapel. Both the muggle government and the Ministry of Magic begin to worry about the affect these murders will have on the public. The Ministry sends out Auror Albus Dumbledore to make sure that no wizard is involved in the killings. Meanwhile, Whitehall chooses its own detective, someone who is perhaps the most famous detective of all time....
Prologue: February 1998
I first discovered the chapbook on the very top shelf in Albus’ study. It was obvious that no one had looked at it for many years - the pages were yellowed, crumbling in my hands, and it was covered in what could have been nearly an inch in dust. It was leather bound and overstuffed with pictures, newspaper clippings, and what appeared to be journal entries. I climbed back down the ladder and set the book on his, now my, desk. Fawkes chirped, staring down at the book with as much curiosity as I was. At the time, however, there was no opportunity for me to examine its pages with great detail. There was a war to fight and the school was being closed. My presence was needed elsewhere.
Eighteen months later, I can finally sit before the fire and read this most curious volume. The war is now over, with many dead and many more who will never be the same. In the coming year, the Ministry will allow Hogwarts to be reopened, but I digress. It is the book that is important, the war has its own story entirely separate from the one that the book was about to reveal to me. There were dates scribbled in the front cover. I knew the hand that wrote it well.
September - November 1888
Albus Dumbledore, Auror for the Ministry of Magic
I know little of Albus’ history before I met him as Transfiguration professor when I first entered Hogwarts as a student. It has been said that he had begun his career as an Auror, but rumour had also stated that he had travelled the world many times over. To me, it made more sense that he would have been an Auror. The skills he demonstrated whenever Tom Riddle, and later He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, wreaked havoc revealed his past training.
The very first page contained two newspaper clippings, one from the Daily Prophet and the other from the Times. Both told the same story of a terrible murder in Spitalfields, naming the dead woman and providing select details as to her mode of death. The Times stated that the authorities were making inquiries in the area and searching for connections to a previous, and similar, murder only weeks before. The Daily Prophet, meanwhile, suggested that a wizard could be somehow involved. Although muggles could be brutal in their natures, the method of death was singular and the Ministry would thoroughly investigate the matter.
When I saw the deceased woman’s name, I guessed just what Albus had been involved with. There was only one Annie Chapman known in history and her murderer was known by muggle and wizard alike. The name still struck fear into those who heard it. The East End, particularly Whitechapel, was known around the world for its terrible past as the scene of so many gruesome murders.
I turned the page. Albus’ spidery handwriting covered its entirity.
September 9, 1888.
It is, indeed, a very strange case that I have been offered. Langley seemed upset that it was not offered to him, but Septimus was quite adamant that I would be more appropriate when dealing with muggles. A muggle woman has been murdered in Spitalfields, and the Minister of Magic believes that a wizard is involved. With some of the things I have seen so far as an Auror, it would not such a difficult idea to believe. The modus operandi is far worse than many have seen before and it would take a very angry person to inflict them upon another being.
By the time I arrived in Hanbury Street, the muggle police were in the process of clearing away the body. The ground where she had originally lain was covered in blood and the detectives were examining the area for any evidence. One of the constables approached me and I showed him the identification Septimus had provided me with. Apparently, to the muggles I am a government agent of a sort, though I cannot tell quite what department I am supposed to be working for. It was obviously enough for the constable, who nodded me in.
“Aye, sir. You’d be the second one this morning. The other one’s o’er there. The tall gentleman by that wall there.” He pointed to a clean-shaven man holding a magnifying glass to his eye as he stared at what appeared to be a crack in the wall.
I thanked the constable and went first to see the body before it was taken to the mortuary. One of the men raised the sheet and I, even after all that I have seen, turned away in disgust. What occurs to animals in a slaughterhouse is more humane than what occurred to that woman. Her murderer had slashed her dozens of times with a sharp blade and I cannot even write anymore than that. Let it be safe to say that the coroner would not have to see much before he could explain how she died. I gave the men leave to finish their jobs and found the tall man, the one pointed out as another government agent, beside me.
“It is a brutal business,” he said. His voice was a touch sardonic. I wondered how he could find any humour in such a crime. “Constable Jones tells me that you are also here for the government. Perhaps some mistake was made?”
“I am afraid that I don’t know,” I replied. “My employer did not explain much about any of this to me. Only that it was of the utmost importance.”
“Ah, that is the first thing one needs to learn about working for the government.” The sarcasm was becoming more evident. “One comes out with less knowledge than one entered with. But I am being rude to you, sir. My name is Sherlock Holmes.”
At the time, the name meant nothing to me. “I am Albus Dumbledore.”
We shook hands as the carriage containing the body rolled off down the narrow street.
Any thoughts, opinions, and comments are welcome. :)