Capítulo 61: Delivered at the Door of Cross Keys
Light peeks through the inky blackness as the weight on my chest lightens. In a flash, my eardrums pop back into place, and we arrive at our destination. Eyes closed, I focus on my breathing. Apparition isn't very pleasant with a passenger, although it's better than being the passenger. I glance over to see Amos leaning on a table as my brain returns to somewhat normalcy.
"You good?" I ask, cracking my neck as I return my wand to its holster.
"Just, give me, a second," Amos responds between breaths.
White walls work with the soft minimal lighting to brighten the room. A fridge, microwave, and table leave the room plain and minimalistic.
"Where are we?" Amos asks, stretching his back.
"Cross Keys Pub." Amos frowns at my words, knowing the impact this murder will have. Cross Keys Pubs is one of the few Wizard-owned businesses Muggles are welcome. When you come here, it doesn't matter if you're a Wizard, Muggle, Werewolf, Irregular, Half-breed, or even Vampire. Few places like it exist in the world.
"The one in Covent Garden, right? You didn't have to Apparite us both here. I've been on this street before," Amos, now recovered, says.
"I thought it would be safer to Apparite into their employee lounge in case any Muggles are on the street or inside," I explain as we leave the lounge. Rows of ceiling-high shelves stacked with alcohol and crates of assorted supplies span the storage room. Our footsteps click against the tiled floor as we cross the room. The inherent dampness of an underground storage room gives my skin a slight chill. Due to the narrow stairway, Amos goes in front as it forces us to go up one by one.
"When were you here before?" Amos questions as we ascend the carpeted staircase.
"I've had a case here before and used the employee lounge to interview a young wizard who witnessed an illegal sale of potions to muggles." Ascending the stairs, the murmur of voices grows louder and louder until we reach the top.
Even with its popularity, its narrow space only allows for minimal seating. Booths and tables cram themselves in every place they can. Where they can't, a bar stocked to the brim with alcohol enables lonely drunks to ramble their woes to the bartender. Wizards in variable levels of drunkenness pepper the bar as Aurors interview them. Across the room, a wall built like a man stands between the staircase and anyone stupid enough to flee questioning. Moving paintings fill the dark wooden walls, all talking to Aurors. Our D.M.L.E. badges hanging around our necks, red and yellow light casts a soft glow down on us as we move across the pub.
Seven feet of toned muscle stretch against a three-buttoned shirt and jeans. A broad face sits atop equally wide shoulders. His strong jawline is still visible even under the full beard that hugs his face tightly. A sliver nose ring loops around his septum, giving the flat face some texture. Blank blue eyes stare out under wild eyebrows. Buzzed-down brown hair punctuates his intimidating presence. Two bull horns jut out of his head, making Aimilios even more suited as the pub's bouncer.
"Has someone already taken your statement?" I ask casually, only to get a grunt and head nod in response. I've only met Aimilios a few times. So much of him remains a mystery to me; however, I know that beneath his rugged exterior hides a fierce loyalty to the pub's owner, whoever they are.
Amos' shoulders stiffen as we pass him. My head can't move forward, and I stop at the foot of the stairs. This stairway is as narrow as the last, forcing Amos to again go before me.
Amos notices the absence of the thudding of my footsteps; he turns back around to me, "you coming?"
"Go on ahead, I'll be there in a second," my voice softens as my mind remain's elsewhere. Shrugging, Amos continues to clomp his way up the stairs.
"Aimilios," silence passes between us as we stare into each other. Even knowing he could go toe to toe with a troll and not break a sweat, the thin thread of connection that tied between us still tugged on my heart. "Be careful out there."
A modicum of emotion slips past his steely stare as he gives a nod. Sighing, I mentally prepare myself as I leave the magic floor—the swirling of sweet Butterbeer and burning Firewhisky shifts to piney hops and caramel malt. Reaching the non-magical level, its layout reflects the magical one. Well, minus the magical elements.
The only difference between the floors is that this one's opposing wall holds a window and a windowed wooden door. Vines and vegetation cover the glass, only letting a bit of street light through. Frames of Muggle-related paraphernalia replace the moving portraits. A few rust-spotted pots and pans fight with fans for ceiling space as the light bounces around them. Even though this floor wasn't any more crowded than the last, that doesn't mean the noise level stayed the same. Although, A crowd has most likely formed around the cordoned-off street, adding to the noise.
"Gen," Amos calls out, raising his voice over the crowd. Making eye contact, he trots over from speaking to another Auror.
"What do we have?" I ask him as we slowly push our way through the Auror's, dressed terribly, interviewing witnesses.
"Nothing much. No one's seen anything."
"Between the booze and the crowd, I'm surprised they can see their own fingers at this point," I grunt, earning a laugh from Amos. "Have you dug up anything on Half-breed communities yet?"
"My contacts didn't know anything. A few mentioned this place, though," Amos grumbles.
"Hey, even if we had guarded this place 24/7, they would have just followed them down the street and killed them there." My words only slightly dampened the blame Amos was putting on himself.
An Auror greets us as we finally wiggle out of the crowd. The kid standing guard must be barely out of training. Baby fat fills his cheeks, with the only thing on his face is peach fuzz. "Good evening, Detective Inspector Diggory and Chief Inspector Diggory."
"Constable Llywelyn. What office are you out of?" I question, mimicking his formal tone.
"The Muggle Liaison Office. We couldn't set up a Bedazzling Hex because the Muggles got here first. A Muggle-Repelling Charm would interfere with the interviews, so we couldn't set that up either."
"Thank you for the warning," Amos' lips curve into an amused smile, finding his lack of experience cute. Nodding to the Auror, I shove my wand into my back pocket and hang my fedora and wand holster up. Doing the same with his robe, the tiny golden bell chimes as we step out of the pub.
A canopy of thick clouds covers the sky, blocking even the moon's light from shining onto the street. Muggles bombard the crime scene with the flash of cameras as Muggle police watch to ensure they don't pass the yellow tape. Auror's from the Muggle Liaison Office pepper the crowd, standing ready if and when we need to flash the group with Memory Charms.
Sprawled across the sidewalk lies the carved-up body of a young boy. Blood runs from his torso, staining his torn-up clothes and pooling around him. A line of blood starts at the pool and loops and curls, spelling out "They're among us" in shaky, cursive letters. Draven sits crouched on the other side of the body, examining his mouth. He wore a green sweater and jeans, unlike his typical white button-up, suspenders, and dress pants. His blond hair, typically slick and tame, is more wild and frizzy.
"Evening, Draven," I greet, slightly perplexed at the change in style.
"Evening," Draven says, a dower look in his green eyes. Stepping around the pool of blood, I kneel at the same level as him.
"What's wrong?" My question causes Draven to look up from the corpse's mouth and meet my eyes.
"I was here when the body was found." As if he laced magic in his words, my eyes now see all the little signs of distress Draven is giving off. The little stains of blood that Draven can typically avoid pepper his clothes. Eyes just a little too wet and lips just a little too dry. Even the slight shaking of his usually steady hands. "I was enjoying a nice pint with my mates when screams came from outside. I immediately ran up, but when I got there, there was nothing I could do."
My knowledge of the history behind those words screams at me to hug him. Knowing he wouldn't want that, I contain myself. Before working for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Draven was a Healer at St. Mungo's, one of the best. But one day, his sister came in after a substandard cauldron caused a potion explosion. He blames himself for not being able to save her. Knowing he doesn't want it spoken, I try with all my might to covey everything I can in a look.
"The killer knows what they're doing, killing in front of one of the most accepting and inclusive community hubs," Amos says, breaking the silence.
"Their message sure is being heard. There's been talk of a newly drafted regulation. If passed, it would make all Half-breeds registered within the ministry." I respond, seething at every word.
"They might add Irregulars to it," Draven's comment drains some of the color from our faces. An Irregular is any wizard with additional magical properties. Seers and Metamorphmagui are the most common Irregulars. Even those with certain curses, like those afflicted by the Lycacomia Curse, are considered Irregulars.
"Give us the full rundown," I tell him, a pressure gripping my chest.
"Jone Doe, age 15, was found at 20:26 with signs of the Drink of Despair. Due to the lack of Bedazzling Hex, I cannot confirm this. His body also exhibits multiple stab wounds made antemortem. This-"
"Wait, does that mean the killer only stabbed him after he died?" Amos asks, not remembering if ante means before or after.
"Yes. That appears to be the case," Draven's tone turns slightly snippy at the interruption.
"What killed him then?" at my question, Draven's eyebrows squish together in annoyance.
"I cannot say at this time. No other bruising or marks of any kind are present on the body. I won't be able to determine this until I can take it back for further examination." At Draven's words, Amos and I stare into each other, both of us having the same thought; it's the Killing Curse.
"What type of Irregular is he?" Amos asks the question he and I are thinking as he joins us by kneeling beside Draven.
Just as he asks, my eyes catch onto something beside the body. I make sure to listen to Draven's words as I look closer. "Based on his muscular structure and teeth, although I have to confirm at a later examination, I'd say Werewolf."
Reaching down near the boy's shoulder, my hand wraps around a familiar object. My heart leaps out of my chest as I look to see a wand in my hand.
PENSAMENTOS DOS CRIADORES 
Clueless59
Clueless59 It's just like wizards to put every wizard minority under the sun into one group! Just for clarification, Irregular also includes Squibs and Half-breeds. For those who didn't see my last update, my upload schedule has changed to Tuesday every two weeks. If you want more explanation on this, change there's an Aux chapter about it. Also, I now reply to comments and like them with a different account, because I find the "Author has liked this" annoying due to the fact that I like almost every comment. You will not see a lot more audience interaction from me.
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