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Dark Gods In The Blood	By : Hayseed Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 3951 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 23
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- 25
A/N: None for this
chapter. Thanks for reading!

Summary: A wandering
student comes home, a broken man pays his penance, and a gruesome murder is
both more and less than it seems. Some
paths to self-discovery have more twists and turns than others.

�Oh, no,� she said,
turning a bit green �round the gills.
�Official cause of death, according to the report, was shock brought on
by rapid blood loss. He was more than
alive when the killer began cutting.
But I have a theory about the hemlock ...�

He threw his hands up and
gave her a mocking scowl. �Of course
you do,� he sighed. �I wager, Granger,
that you spend large parts of the day coming up with various theories.�

Hermione wondered at her sudden
urge to stick her tongue out at him, as if it was Ron Weasley baiting her
rather than Snape. �Anyway ...� she
said sternly. �In my reading, I noticed
that the onset of symptoms is rather swift -- nausea and irritation of the
mouth and throat and salivation are the first observed, but all of these are so
innocuous that they probably wouldn�t be associated with anything too out of the norm.
After a while, though, respiratory functions become impaired, and the
victim experiences total paralysis, complete with loss of speech.�

When she paused to
breathe, Snape shot her a nasty look.
�Has anyone ever pointed out that listening to you is exactly like
listening to someone read a textbook?�
But she could see the interested glint in his eyes that belied his words
and so continued.

�Total paralysis,� she repeated, dropping her �lecture
voice.� �Wouldn�t it be possible that
meant magical paralysis as well? After
all, the disorientation associated with hemlock would certainly slow anyone�s
reaction time, magical or Muggle.�

Realization dawned on
Snape�s face, and Hermione struggled to contain her delight. �You�re saying that you�ve found a way
around wandless protective magic.�

�Possibly,� she said
calmly. �It�s just a theory, of
course.�

�And no one would have
noticed it before because their intent would usually have been to simply poison
their target. Besides, we�ve gotten so
used to dealing with wandless magic that no one�s bothered to make an attempt on
someone�s life using Muggle means for centuries. Not since the Killing Cu was was perfected.� His words came more
rapidly and his face slowly lost its usual grim cast. �Granger, do you --?�

She nodded. �I think that the killer somehow slipped in,
administered the poison, waited for the onset of paralysis, and then killed each victim.�

�Does the Aurory know
about this?� he asked, unheard of excitement shining in his eyes.

Shrugging, Hermione
allowed some of her own excitement to show.
�They have the same file I do, of course, but ...�

His reply was cut off as
the door slammed open and Cuthrell stood in the doorway, radiating fury. �This is the last straw, Granger!� he cried.

Snape�s face hardened
into his customary scowl, but Hermione kept her expression carefully
neutral. �Dr. Cuthrell,� she said
pleasantly, standing to greet him. �I
confess, I was expecting you.�

�I demand to know the contents of this file!� he shouted,
waving the manila folder in the air.

�I�m sorry,� she replied
in that same pleasant tone. �That
information is restricted -- only Kingsley Shacklebolt, Ron Weasley, myself,
and Severus Snape have access to that particular folder. If you contact Auror Shacklebolt, I�m sure
he�ll be able --�

Snarling, Cuthrell took a
couple of instinctual steps into the room, toward Hermione, and she barely
noticed Snape rising to his feet and advancing toward her himself. �Miss Granger,� Cuthrell said venomously, �I
indeed contacted your Kingsley Shacklebolt, and he patiently fed me a line of
bullshit about Severus and murders and Harry bloody Potter. How you got him to spout such ridiculous
nonsense, I don�t want to know, but, Granger, you are undermining my patient�s
therapy and I will not have it any longer!�

Hermione found herself
absolutely gobsmacked when Snape spoke up.
�Three weeks ago, you allowed Albus to bring me a newspaper,� he said in
a bland, complacent voice that she never in a million years would have believed
him capable of.

�That is completely beside
the point,� Cuthrell snapped, not bothering to put on his usual condescending
manner to address his patient. �I will not be cut out of the loop like this. And what�s more, how am I to know that Miss
Granger here hasn�t slipped something forbidden into this folder?�

�That is doubtful, Jake,�
said a congenial voice from the doorway.

Cuthrell spun around to
face a mildly bemused Albus Dumbledore.
�Er ... um ... Professor Dumbledore,� he stuttered. �I didn�t expect to --�

�Young Auror Shacklebolt
notified m you your reticence to allow Hermione here to show her file to
Severus,� he replied agreeably enough.
�And so I thought it might be prudent for me to make an appearance, only
as Severus� legal guardian, of course.�

Cuthrell paled. �Of course,� he echoed.

Dumbledore gave him a
little smile and Hermione noticed absently that his eyes were sparkling with
more than his usual amount of mischievousness.
�May I?� He held out a hand.

Cuthrell�s pallor took on
a decidedly green cast. �Certainly,
Professor.� And he placed the file
grudgingly into Dumbledore�s outstretched hand.

With a start, Hermione�s
jaw dropps Dus Dumbledore casually opened the file and began leafing through
the pages, expressionless. �But ...�
she stammered. �But ... you ... I mean
...�

�Yes, my dear?� he asked,
taking his attention away from the file long enough to raise an eyebrow at her.

Unwilling to ask in front
of a still-sickly looking Cuthrell, Hermione remained silent.

After a few eternal
moments, Dumbledore snapped the folder shut and held it out to Hermione. �I see no reason Severus can�t look it over,
Jake,� he said, still keeping his voice light and amiable, but this time, there
was a sharp edge to it. �No crowbars or
wands in sight.�

�As if it would make a
damn bit of difference,� Snape grumbled, causing Hermione to start with
surprise again.

Cuthrell swallowed
uncomfortably, and she could tell that he wished he were anywhere but
here. �Well, then,� he said. �As long as we�ve established that I absolve
myself of any --�

�Yes, yes,� Dumbledore
interrupted, finally allowing some of his impatience to bleed into his
tone. �If Severus does anything
inappropriate as a result of viewing Hermione�s files, you�re not held liable
in any way.� The sparkle in his eyes
was gone, replaced by a flat fury that made Hermione understand completely when
Cuthrell just nodded feebly and ran out of the room.

�Thank you, Professor
Dumbledore, sir,� she said politely as soon as Cuthrell was out of sight.

�Any time, Hermione,� he
replied in a quiet voice. �Kingsley has
brought me up to speed on the situation.
And as much as I would like to stay and chat with you two, I�m afraid I
must get back to school. I was actually
in the middle of handling an incident involving Peeves, an unfortunately large
bottle of mustard, and a couple of Ravenclaws.
Madam Pomfrey is probably getting quite testy waiting for me, so I must
bid you good day, Severus.
Hermione.� With one last nod, he
Disapparated, leaving Hermione and Snape to regard each other warily.

�Mustard?� Snape echoed,
glancing about the empty room. �It
sounds as if Peeves is slipping.�

�Or the house elves have
become less trusting,� she contributed absently, still fingering the folder in
her hands.

Giving her a disbelieving
look, Snape snorted.

Hermione recovered
herself at the sound. �Well ... let�s
get to it, shall we?� Tossing the
folder onte tae table, she sat down and looked up at him expectantly.

As he seated himself, a
thought struck her.

�Erm ... I guess I ought
to warn you ...� she began haltingly.
�There are photographs. Muggle,
thankfully, so it�s not as bad as it could be.�

�I don�t follow,� he
said, wariness edging his voice.

�They�re fairly ...
graph she she said, nervously swallowing.
�I couldn�t ... I mean ...�

�You see?�

Snape reached out a
single finger and ran it across the glossy paper, hesitation clearly mixed with
disgust. �What the fuck sort of monster
would do --?�

Her mouth was dry. �The report is under ... it looks like
things got shuffled ...�

�I have it,� he said,
extracting a single sheet of paper from the jumble. �Or, part of it, at least.�

Hermione allowed him to
peruse the file in silence.
Occasionally he would swear, but otherwise, he did not speak
either. A single picture had slipped
out of the pile and Hermione found her eyes drawn to it.

Marcus Desmond, aged
twenty-four, loving husband and father of one, lay spread-eagled on an autopsy
table, his insides on display for all to see.
But from Ron�s description, the doctor had not made that particular
incision -- Desmond had undergone half of an autopsy prior to death.

While a half-hearted
attempt had clearly been made to clean up Desmond�s body, blood still spotted
the white skin, standing out as brilliant red droplets on a stark canvas. She doubted it would ever wash off
completely, but no doubt, they would try.
Scouring Charms, Magical Stain-Removers, even good old-fashioned Muggle
elbow grease. But they would always
know it had been there, could probably always point to the exact location of
every single spot.

Someone had thankfully
allowed Desmond�s eyes to slip closed, but Hermione found herself able to
vividly imagine the look of terror that his eyelids hid. His lips were pulled back in his final
grimace, revealing even, white teeth, and the set of his jaw indicated to
Hermione that if he�d been able to, he would have died with a scream.

Total paralysis, she
thought.

They�d been completely
helpless in that moment. Desmond,
Bones, perhaps Weaver, and maybe Cooke, and ... Harry.

All able-bodied men, full
of the vigor of youth, rendered to powerless children in their last
minutes. As some monster hacked into
...

To his credit, Snape
looked rather green himself.

With a sigh, Hermione
yanked her mind forcibly away from the subject and tried to give him a
smile. �You have a third point?� Please,
her tone begged. Anything but
this.

Clearing his throat, he
accepted the segue with unease. �Uh ...
yes ... that is ... I saw in one of the ...�

She watched him shuffle
back through the papers with something very like amazement. Snape was actually disconcerted.

Posture easing back into
his usual slump, he extracted a single photo from the file and pushed it toward
her. �Look at that ... what do you
see?�

First and foremost, she
did not want to see anything. It was a
close shot of the victim�s -- she tried desperately to think of Desmond as the
victim, not Marcus Desmond, loving husband and
father of onetorstorso. Or what was
left of it, at least. �It�s his chest,�
she said unnecessarily.

�There�s a notation in
the report that caught my interest,� Snape said. �And it�s actually quite clear in this picture. Apparently the coroner can tell somehow that
the initial cut started at the base of the throat and went downward.�

�Yes?�

�Look at the base of the
throat, Granger.�

Obediently, Hermione
tried to focus on that particular facet of Desmond�s -- the victim�s body. �I
don�t see anything. The beginning of an
incision ...� She gulped. �Blood spatter ...�

�Exactly,� he
exclaimed. �There�s only one cut. No ... hesitation. Lacking hesitation cuts,
the report said. And that means that
the killer was ... skilled.�

�Skilled?� she echoed.

Snape looked vaguely
apologetic -- the expression did not belong anywhere near his face, she
eventually decided. �Well ...
desensitized, then. Not skilled enough
-- the cut gets ragged as it continues down the torso, meaning that he probably
doesn�t cut things open for a living.
But he certainly does it enough that he can make that first cut on the
first try. It�s not ...� He swallowed convulsively and Hermione saw
one of his hands move toward his wrist.
�It�s not easy to do.�

She decided not to press
the subject beyond saying, �we know he�s done this three times at least, and
what you�re saying is that he�s probably done it a fair amount more.�

�It would have been helpful
to examine his previous victims,� Snape said, hand drifting away from his wrist
and coming to rest by his side.

She ignored him and began
ticking points off on her fingers, making a mental list of the facts. �So, what we know so far is that the killer
is most likely someone that the victims all knew, that he is intelligent enough
to have figured out how to circumvent their wandless magic using poison, and
experienced enough to go about it quite clinically.�

�Don�t forget that,
according to you, he might be crazy enough to take bits along and stick them in
his icebox,� he added, grimacing.

�Right,� she said,
feeling her stomach turn again. �We�ve
mostly got the how, then. Which leaves us ...�

�With the why,� Snape completed uncharacteristically.

Cocking her head,
Hermione studied him with disbelief.
�Yes ...� she said faintly. �The
why. Two whys actually. One, why does the killer kill at all, and
two, why did he kill these three in particular?�

�The latter of the two
sounds rather less daunting,� he said.

�Although it�s eluded the
Aurory for close to three months now,� she replied. �A common thread.
Different jobs, different homes, different friends, but they�ve got
something in common.�

�Political affiliations?�

Hermione thought for a
moment. �No ... Harry throws that off
-- according to Ron, he was very careful to remain neutral.�

For once, Snape did not
have anything overly waspish to say, although she was certain he was thinking
it, whatever it was. �Were they all in the
same house at Hogwarts?�

�Bones was in
Hufflepuff,� she replied. �And besides,
if we�re right and there are more victims, I think I know at least two more --
Alisander Weaver and Romulus Cooke. And
Cooke went to Durmstrang.�
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Dark Gods In The Blood