New Findings Amongst Strange Reminiscences

Chapter II: New Findings Amongst Strange Reminiscences

Hermione knew that Lucius Malfoy had changed for the better. He'd been far too busy mourning his wife to ponder any evil plots over the past few years. Knowing, however, did not thwart the bout of anxiety enfolding her, and she shuddered at the memories that simmered to the surface. Better not think about that night. Need to keep a clear head ...

Hermione had not felt any protective wards, but they undoubtedly were there, since Malfoy stood in the frame of the open door waiting for her as she climbed up the flat stone stairs to the large front doors.

"Miss Granger ..." He looked at her wearily. "I'm not sure if it's a pleasure to see you, forgive me."

She nodded. It had not been much of a pleasure for her to see him either. Not during her school years, and not recently. She'd been the one to accompany Kingsley to inform Malfoy of the murder of his wife. Hermione determinedly suppressed a shudder. She'd also been the one to reason with him when he'd thrown a fit over Draco moving in with Harry, his hope of the Malfoy line continuing seemingly drowned for all eternity. No wonder he doesn't want to see me ...

Hermione concentrated on the issue at hand. She'd need to lay to rest any worries he might have. "Mr Malfoy, Draco is fine. And I apologise for barging in without notice, but..." she swallowed, "...another murder happened today." She closed her eyes briefly, not quite certain how to continue.

Malfoy exhaled audibly. "You'd better come in, Miss Granger." He stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter. "I'm relieved, naturally, that my son should be well. But you look shaken. Was it someone of your acquaintance?" His voice turned to a whisper. "Or of my acquaintance?"

Hermione stopped and turned to meet his eyes. Then she nodded slowly. "It was Pansy Parkinson."

Malfoy closed his eyes. "Pansy," he whispered. The shadow of a mocking smile graced his face. "My aspirant daughter-in-law. I admit, I was infinitely relieved when she stopped pursuing Draco and went after a Weasley." He sighed. "Such a young life, all lost. Weasley didn't deserve losing her like this."

Hermione waited as he stood, absorbing the news. Finally, he led her to the drawing room and motioned for her to take a seat. "I take it no magic was used in this case either? Or did you come here because you suspect me of murdering her?" His glance was both suspicious and calculating.

Hermione shook her head. "Don't be ridiculous, Mr Malfoy. That thought never even crossed my mind. The murder appears to be identical to that of your wife. And Lavender Brown. No magic. By the looks of the wounds, it was the same type of sword that killed your wife. A katana, according to my Muggle law enforcement contact. I will know more details tomorrow." She paused for a moment. "You are probably aware that I've managed to resolve a few cold cases in the last couple of years."

He nodded curtly, and she continued. "Both your wife's and Lavender Brown's files found their way to my desk, and I have every intention of finding the murderer. Or murderers, although I'm pretty sure it's one and the same person in both, or now three, cases." Her eyes closed and her face scrunched involuntarily. "Look ... Mr Malfoy, I never knew your wife beyond a few childhood encounters, and Lavender and Pansy were quite the banes of my existence...each for different reasons...during my years at Hogwarts, but I need to find their murderer before he...or she...strikes again. And I think you can help me do this."

Malfoy shook his head. "How can I, Miss Granger? Do not get me wrong. I will do anything to find that ... vermin who destroyed my life. Cissy and I finally arrived at a point where we had come to terms with the fact that Draco was highly unlikely to ever provide us with an heir. We eventually reached a stage in our relationship that was comfortable enough to allow for another life to be created. Cissy had just been to see Poppy to have the good news confirmed. She was anxious, of course, but I assured her it mattered not in the least to me whether the child would be magical or not. I would have loved him or her nevertheless!"

Hermione's widened eyes met his. "Narcissa was pregnant?" She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry. It's just ... That information is entirely new to me, and believe me, I've read both her and Lavender's files often enough to know every single snippet."

Malfoy regarded her. "I was interrogated once, shortly after you and Shacklebolt informed me of my wife's demise, by utterly insensitive Aurors who tried their best to find me guilty. I answered all their questions, but I doubt I was in any state to furnish information they did not ask for."

Hermione tried not to roll her eyes. "I'm sorry, Mr Malfoy." Narcissa pregnant ... Time to visit Madam Pomfrey, I think ... She met his eyes. "Lavender was pregnant at the time of her death. Rumours have been flying about Pansy, about the reason she was marrying so quickly ..."

Malfoy raised his eyebrow. "Do you have some conclusion?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not yet. But it's a new avenue to explore."

The Granger girl again ... But at least she's civil to my love. Very civil. Narcissa had watched the interaction, unnoticed by either witch or wizard. So, finally, the girl is on the right track. I'll have to see what I can do to help her solve the case. I do hope it'll bring closure to my poor Lucius.

Narcissa focused on Hermione's Ministry office and instantly arrived. She far preferred this form of travelling over any methods available to the living. Death in general was considerably less restrictive. She saw solid matter for what it was: energy of very low density. With that knowledge it was easy to overcome, and anything solid no longer represented any obstacle. She missed Lucius, or rather interaction with him...she looked in on him at every opportunity, but it was all very one-sided. He was oblivious to any gestures, such as her straightening his bed sheets, stroking his hair when he went to sleep, or blowing a gentle kiss on him.

Narcissa looked around in Hermione's office. Hm. What to do ... Her eyes fell onto a shelf filled with periodicals, Wizarding Science Today on top. Oh! She'd not be able to manage on her own. Need to find Severus.

Hermione wearily started reading the parchment sitting prominently on her desk. Female, 26 years old, 18 weeks pregnant ...

The words swam.

Pregnant. She shook her head and looked at the report from her Muggle Law Enforcement liaison.

Female, 26 years old, 18 weeks pregnant. The letters stared at her.

Oh, Merlin. PREGNANT! Rising out of her chair with the intention to find Harry and Draco, she was startled by a journal floating from the shelf on the wall right to her nose. "What the hell?"

Hermione sat down again and started leafing through the journal, too preoccupied to pay attention to the fact that it had been floating on its own accord. She stopped abruptly on page 36.

The Cause of Squibs

Hermione only skimmed the article, remembering it well from the day it had been published some six years ago. She'd never entirely agreed with the scientists' conclusion that a Squib could be the result of any pureblood pairing. "No. No, they're missing something, I have no doubt," she muttered to herself. As if on command, one sentence caught her eyes.

Blood groups and rhesus factors were disregarded, as the authors of this study see the differentiation of such as a purely Muggle obsession.

Riiiiiiiiight. She decided to let it go for the moment. A quick visit to Harry and Draco was in order, followed by a Floo call to Hogwarts. Once she talked to Poppy, she'd return to pondering this particular study as well as blood groups and rhesus factors.

Severus cast a grin towards Narcissa. "She'll get there."

Narcissa returned the grin. "You know, I wonder ... We eventually have to return for another life."

His eyes widened. "Oh, Cissy. Perfect. Absolutely perfect," he breathed.

"You better help me there, Sev!"

"Madam Pomfrey, thank you for seeing me at such short notice." Hermione dusted the soot off her robes as she followed the Healer to her desk.

"Miss Granger, what a lovely surprise, although I suspect your call is not a social one." Madam Pomfrey frowned slightly.

A sigh escaped Hermione as she readied herself to reveal the reason for her visit.

Madam Pomfrey turned pale when Hermione informed her of the third murder. "Poor, poor Miss Parkinson. And she was so happy with Mr Weasley. She visited me only a few days ago."

Hermione started at the confirmation. "Pansy was pregnant."

"I am not allowed to answer that, Miss Granger. I hope you understand."

Hermione sighed inwardly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "Both wizarding and Muggle reports concluded she was eighteen weeks pregnant. I'm here trying to resolve a case of three murders, Madam Pomfrey, and I do hope you'll part with any information that might help my case."

An hour later, Hermione Apparated to a narrow alley near Islington Police Station and entered the decaying Victorian building. "Colin, have you had lunch yet?" she greeted the Muggle Law Enforcement officer.

"No, sweetheart. Why? Got somethin' you wanna discuss?" The middle-aged, balding officer grinned at her and then frowned when grains of paint slowly floated from the ceiling. "Bloody hell. It's getting worse and worse in here, but the government insists there's no money to refurbish the building."

Hermione carefully looked around and, once she was satisfied there was no other presence, took out her wand to cast a sticking charm on the paint. "Yes. Or rather, a few questions pertaining to the Malfoy and Brown murders. I suppose they're as cold a case with you as it is with us." She looked at him questioningly.

He cast her a look of admiration, glanced longingly at her wand, and then sighed. "Yeah." Looking at his watch, he added, "You're lucky. I can get away for a bit. Let's go to The Chain and Anchor; they've decent fish and chips, and it won't be too busy at this time of day."

Hermione did not waste time. The moment she sat down opposite Colin, she filled him in on what she perceived he needed to know and asked, "Is there any chance you can find out what blood group and rhesus factor the victims were?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's recorded somewhere. I'll have a dig when I get back."

Another hour later, Hermione entered the narrow alley and stopped momentarily to switch on her mobile phone and cast a magic-repelling charm on it; then, she Apparated back to the Ministry to make further enquiries.

When, finally, she heard the polyphonic sounds of "Summertime," she read the message on her mobile and decided to call it a day as far as office work was concerned.

"Miss Granger, so soon again. Dare I hope you have some new information?" Lucius Malfoy motioned for her to enter the manor.

"I think I do, Mr Malfoy. I made a couple of visits today and found out some possibly interesting facts." She accepted his invitation to take a seat. "Do you remember that study about the cause of Squibs a few years ago? The one that caused serious dismay amongst both purebloods and Muggle-borns, for different reasons?"

Malfoy raised his eyebrow. "Yes, I believe I do. If I remember correctly, Muggle-borns went all up in arms over the fact that blood groups were ignored, and pureblood couples were consternated by being blanketed as the possible cause for producing Squibs."

"Yes," she said, "exactly that one. Well, in the course of a day, I learned that both parties likely had good reasons to be annoyed."

Yes! You're doing well, Granger! Narcissa floated near a wall at an angle that allowed her to look at both Lucius's and Hermione's faces.

"I can't say too much, as I need some more work done to confirm my suspicions where blood is concerned. You could be of help, if you're so inclined, by providing me with the information of your blood group and rhesus factor." Hermione looked at him expectantly.

Malfoy sneered at her. "If it involves seeing some Muggle medical professional to have my blood extracted with a needle, the answer is no, Miss Granger."

Hermione smiled at him. "Madam Pomfrey is perfectly willing to determine your blood group and rhesus factor, Mr Malfoy. No need to see any Muggle for it."

Malfoy nodded. "I can arrange that, yes. Do you have any other news? And besides, what does this Squib study have to do with resolving the murder of my wife? Please, do enlighten me, Miss Granger."

Hermione exhaled slowly, trying to buy the seconds needed to decide on how to answer him. Being elusive had never been her strength, she figured, and she had nothing to lose by being honest with him. "It's merely a hunch I'm following." She held up her hand when his expression turned into another sneer. "I have managed to solve several cases by simply following my gut feeling, and I thank you for not sneering at me, Mr Malfoy." Hermione pointedly looked at him and remained silent until he schooled his face into an expression of indifference.

"I ... Okay, let me tell you what I know: all three women were pregnant, all three were killed in the same manner, and all had been visiting Poppy at least a couple of times. The first murder...that of your wife...was about three months after this study received a great deal of media attention. Poppy has had many visits from pregnant witches, given the population explosion following Voldemort's fall, but the only ones who ended up dead were those who were purebloods themselves and known to be either married to or dating pureblood wizards.

"My hunch is that the murderer is someone, either a Squib or a Muggle with wizarding connections, who lives in Hogsmeade, or at least near Hogwarts, is aware of Hogwarts alumni preferring to see Poppy for any maternity issues, and wants to make absolutely certain that no more Squibs will see the light of day. I could be outright wrong, of course, but it's a lead, and no matter how weak, I'll take it anytime over just staring at the files with no idea how to solve the murders."

"Or it could be a Muggle-born who hates Squibs or a pureblood who hates women or children," Lucius added dryly.

Hermione shook her head. "With two cases, I would have accepted all similarities as coincidence, but with three? Highly unlikely, Mr Malfoy. Most Muggle-borns who read the study scoffed at the poor science. Most purebloods scoffed at the generalisation of how Squibs can come to be. I've reached the stage where I have nothing to lose by following a hunch and everything to gain. Whoever murdered these three witches belongs behind bars. How do you think the public will react if they are informed there is a murderer on the loose who goes after pureblood, pregnant witches? It'll put a right dip in the population growth!"

Narcissa, floating above the fireplace, grinned at Severus. "I can see why you like her."

Severus smirked. "She has a well-functioning brain, that one."

Thursday arrived, and Hermione found herself once more heading to Harry and Draco's place. To her relief, both wizards greeted her at the door.

Draco was choosing the wine and Harry was busy preparing the food when a knock on the door interrupted the comfortable silence. Harry looked questioningly at Draco. "Expecting anyone?"

"Nope, not me."

"Not me either," Hermione answered Harry's glance at her.

Harry shrugged and left to answer it.

Hermione's breath hitched when she recognised Ron's voice. Her eyes met Draco's, and he put a comforting hand on her arm. "We'll see what that's about. I doubt he is here to berate us."

"Probably not," Hermione agreed, feeling suddenly very tired.

Low voices drifted from the corridor before Harry returned to the kitchen, followed by his former friend.

Ron stopped in the doorway, eyes filled with uncertainty as they met Hermione's.

Merlin, he's grown old, Hermione thought. His clothes were crumpled as if he'd slept in them, his hair was lacking the lustre of ginger that'd made it catch every ray of sun, even during their days on the run, and his face was shadowed from days of no shaving. The image of an impeccable Mr Malfoy sneaked itself to the forefront of her mind. The difference between night and day doesn't begin to describe it ... "Ron."

"Hermione." His hands fidgeted, and he looked away from her. "I ..." He took a deep breath. "I don't know where to start, Hermione. I'm sorry for being such a complete brat, but that's hardly enough."

"No. But I guess it's a start," she replied quietly, recognising suddenly that the feeling washing over her was relief...glowing relief that they'd parted ways before any commitments. The man standing in the doorway evoked nothing but memories, some wonderful, some not so good, as if he weren't the same person. He probably isn't, Hermione realised. "I'm so sorry about Pansy, Ron. I'm working on the case, and I promise you I won't stop until the murderer is found and sent to Azkaban."

Ron inhaled sharply. "Thanks. I ... Her sudden death made me realise again just how abruptly life can end." Then his eyes sought Draco's. "Mal...Draco. I know I've done you wrong. Harry looks happier than I've ever seen him, and I know you're good for him."

Ron continued stammering apologies until Harry, to Hermione's relief, came to his rescue. "We're just about to have dinner, Ron. Want to join us?"

"No, that's all right. I better go."

It had been a most awkward visit, but somehow, the air in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place seemed a lot cleaner suddenly.

Dinner started silently, but then Draco said, "You know, I understand where he's coming from. When Mother died, I had this great worry that she hadn't made peace with some people and would become a ghost because of that ..." He looked decidedly uncomfortable with this revelation.

Harry placed his hand on Draco's arm and nodded. "I understand that, I think. When I found out the truth about Sirius and Pettigrew, I wondered if my parents ever knew that Sirius was innocent...not that they were ghosts, but then, they'd always had each other, which probably ensured they were happy even in death. I eventually figured they did know when I was sort of playing dead, and at some stage thought I was dead, and talked to Dumbledore, who very evidently was dead; I'm sure that once you're dead, you know. Really know. And I have no doubt that all those we lost, whether in the battle or by murder, they know how they died and by whose hand. And they make peace with everyone they wronged in their lifetime."

"You really think so?" Hermione asked. In that case, please, Mrs Malfoy, help me find your murderer.

Silly girl. What do you think I've been doing lately? Narcissa thought, hoping fervently the girl was receptive to cross-dimension communication.

Hermione's eyes widened. She could have sworn a female voice had just called her silly girl. She exhaled slowly before finishing her dinner in a hurry.

"Guys, I'm bushed. It's been one hell of a week for me, and I have a meeting with Madam Pomfrey in the morning."