(Warning -- bloody crime scene ahead!)

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"For death is no more than a turning of us over from time to eternity."

~ William Penn, onetime prisoner in the Tower

The Tower of London, 9:47 AM.


It had been easier than he'd thought to get through to the Tower.  Rosier's men had apparently done a fine job of securing the crime scene, though judging by the glazed expressions on the Muggles that they encountered, their methods had erred on the side of efficiency rather than humane.  Jonas had resignedly decided not to question it -- the Hitwizards' tendency to Obliterate first and make up plausible excuses later was an issue he could raise with Dreogan once the immediacy of the current situation had passed.

He had abandoned his robes for a white collared shirt and a Muggle blazer, which he'd slung over his shoulder; unprofessional or not, the heat of the London summer was enough, even at just before ten in the morning, that he wasn't wearing any more layers than he had to.  Judging by the dress of some of their companions, though, they could have worn their usual scarlet Aurors robes without getting a second look. 

The body had been found by a Muggle tour group late the night before, on a special Twilight Tour of the Tower.  A Yeoman Warder -- who had presumably been dressed the same as one of the two men who accompanied them now -- had been in the process of unlocking one of the circumferential towers when the smell had given it away.  The ensuing rush of Scotland Yard to the scene had tipped off the Ministry.  The Hitwizards had moved in early in the morning.  Once a quick check had determined that magic was indeed involved, they had called in the Aurors.

"Thanks, mate.  We'll just go poke around a bit," he said to the other man who had accompanied them to the door of the Bell Tower.  The bloke was a detective inspector with the Met -- judging by the look of him, Jonas would have quite liked him when the poor man wasn't walking around dazedly, gesturing distractedly and answering questions in a dreamlike tone like a drugged-up tour guide of the macabre.

Jonas bit back a sigh -- he could have a 'talk' with whoever had gotten trigger happy with memory charms later-- and nodded to the two men standing guard outside the narrow egress to the Bell Tower.  Both looked to be Hitwizards in street clothes; though he didn't know either by name, he recognized them from the Ministry.  They nodded blandly, barely making eye contact.  Raising his eyebrows, Jonas took off his sunglasses, and then glanced back to his colleagues behind him.

"Well," he said mildly, stepping forward to the open door.  "Unto the breach, then?"

The smell hit him first.  There was no mistaking the tangy, metallic smell of fresh blood -- it assaulted the senses, twisted the stomach, as if the first natural response was to wretch.  In such a small space, it was inescapable.  Jonas steeled himself without even flinching, folding his sunglasses closed and slipping them into his pocket as he stepped into the murder scene that awaited them.

The inside of the Bell Tower was noticeably cooler.  Electric lights hung down from the ceiling, illuminating the gray, foreboding stone interior.  The entire space looked to be made up of two rooms -- both small, the first with a high ceiling and wooden platform for a floor, and the second much more cramped and confined.  Signage for some sort of exhibit on capitol punishment lined the walls.  Off the top of his head, Jonas could recall some of the history of this particular tower.  The Tower of London was one of the few historical sites in the city that his daughter would willingly visit, and the family had spent more than one afternoon here, although not since that fatal last encounter between Gwenna and one of the Beefeaters.

His children were not what he wanted to think about now, though.  His face expressionless, the Auror limped forward across the wooden platform into the second, smaller room, shifting his attention to the obvious mess in the center.  Whatever was laying there had turned into a dark, putrid mass.  Blood was splashed all around it, staining the stone floors and discoloring the walls with a glistening sheen.  The smell was so metallic and so pungent that he didn't want to breath.

With an expression as stony as the walls of the tower, Jonas coolly examined the mess before him.  The bloated, bloody mass might have been a person once, but it wasn't now.  Professional detachment was a necessary skill for any Auror.

"Well," he said easily, glancing back at the others.  His voice hitched slightly; he still didn't want to breath through his nose if he could help it.  "Reckon at least we can say that someone's dead, yeah?"

The whole thing was messy.  A magical crime in a heavily muggle area, particularly a tourist destination - it'd be like trying to get muggle detectives into the Quidditch World Cup.  Of course, how they were going to deal with that part was not Archer's business.  It was a different department's deal - he had grown up in Piddlehinton, an almost entirely wizarding community, and he knew very little about muggles, outside of what they were supposed to learn from the office. 

Archer was following Jonas' lead on this one - he could deal with the muggles, he married one, lived in their world probably longer than he lived in the magical one.  But, it was probably a bad sign when everyone looked like they were catatonic.  Archer sighed.  He was sure the elder Eleor brother would have something to say about it - not that he blamed him - but, not his problem, at least not right now. 

He just wanted to look as conspicuous as possible, and almost itched that he could not hold his wand out, just in case a nasty surprise waited for them with the body they were going to be examining. 

Now, just to be clear, it wasn't as though Archer wasn't seasoned.  He'd been in this office for over a decade and had seen his share of things - but one thing he just couldn't do, one thing that really derailed him was smell.  And when they walked into that room, it hit Archer like a brick upside the back of the head, swung at him by a giantess in heat.  It took just about all his restraint not to vomit, but did visibly lose color, and someone might have heard him gag – a foul aftertaste left when he swallowed down the impulse. 

He held his breath, fighting against the pungent odor (far worse than recent crime scenes) and frantically reached for his wand, pointing it at his own nose (if Eyes made a joke, she’d have a lot of cleaning to do later) – but it was something he did to be able to focus, and immediately felt a sense of relief as his nose was plugged up.  Sure, he’d sound stuffy, but it was much better than having to breathe in that rank odor. 

It also allowed him to finally pay attention to the small space, blinking as he saw the blood on the walls, whatever mass of human…ness… in the middle of the room, and Jonas’ cool face at the whole thing.  “I believe you might be spot on there, mate,” Archer said flatly, walking closer to the body.  Gore, on sight, didn’t bother him – and if he couldn’t smell, he couldn’t be completely repulsed. 

Crouching down near what he presumed might have been a body (or the unfortunate remains of portions of one – no way to tell just yet), his brows knit together.  Innards were spilling out, some kind of white-ish gooey substance almost rivaled the amount of red that might have been muscle or some kind of tissue (he could only presume, from his knowledge of steak, the white might have been fat), and some distinguishable organs were all in sight.  It definitely smacked of some sort of dark magic…

The memo had said there was a corpse involved. However, it was the stench at the door when he first walked in that alerted Rémy to the unfortunate state of said corpse. He recoiled slightly from the smell at first, but pushed through with grim determination, knowing that the two senior Aurors were already in the room. This wasn't the first corpse he'd ever seen, and it most certainly wouldn't be the last. He refused to remain behind like a greenhorn.

He brushed past a dazed Muggle Inspector muttering nonsense words under his breath; obviously the Hitwizards had done a good job of keeping the Muggle law enforcement out of their hair. Maybe a little bit too good of a job. He imagined Radley and Trevelyan would be having strong words with that portion of the department later.

Inside the smaller room, Archer had already gone sheet-white, and even Jonas seemed to be choking a little bit. As Rem stepped into the room behind him, he saw why. Whoever had written the report on the crime scene had clearly been using the term "body" in the loosest sense possible; the thing on the floor resembled nothing human,  not anymore. It was more like a mess of blood, tissue, and organs, like something that had gotten too friendly with cars on a highway and turned into a meat pudding. He flinched visibly, grimacing at the spectacle, but kept control of himself. There was a part of them that wanted to react like any normal human being would, to be horrified, to lose his head, and maybe even throw up; he took that part, and with all of his willpower, shoved it away to the farthest recesses of his mind to be locked up. If this was going to be a part of the job, might as well start learning now.

"Somebody's really, excessively dead, yeah," he muttered, sidling along behind the two Aurors and around the edge of the room. He glanced around at the dried blood on the walls, the floors - oh, hold on. Stooping down, his fingers brushed the outline of what looked like a bloody footprint, from a shoe that surely didn't belong to any of the tower guards who would've been on the scene when the blood was still fresh.

Not wanting to be too forward on an investigation which wasn't technically his, he commented quietly, "You know, there's simpler ways to kill a person, unless the killer is really angry or trying to send a message..."

Fauna arrived at the tower in her black trousers, so-new-they-still-smelled-like-leather boots and crisp white blouse, having left the official Auror trainee jacket at the office so she could fit in better among the muggles. She shouldn't have bothered. All of them looked dazed. That cut into her wide-eyed optimism a bit, but not enough to say anything.

As they climbed the steps and passed the grim Hitwizards standing guard at the entrance, Fauna couldn't help but feel determined and excited. She wasn't happy about a dead body, of course, but she was glad that Radley was allowing her to tag along, that she could catch a first glimpse of the scene and be let in on the investigation to an extent.

Her positive attitude faded as soon as the smell hit.

It was like nothing she'd ever experienced. Fauna followed the Aurors, subconsciously holding her breath, yet still, the smell seeped in and coated her lungs, roiled in her stomach.

The body on the wooden platform looked like it was set up on a stage beneath the lights, the blood flowing out like curtains, filling the cracks of the floor and sticking to her boots.

Fauna's head spun and she sucked in a breath. Gagging, she ran out of the tower.

She threw up on a poor Hitwizard's shoes right by the door. Fauna kept her head bent for a minute, trying to get her breathing under control and calm her stomach. There was nothing but the gunk on her boots, but the gruesome scene had followed her; she felt it on her clothes, her skin, her hair. The Hitwizard cleaned up the vomit with a discreet wand wave. Fauna looked at him, then at the door. She had thrown up at the sight of a severed arm in Defence. This was so much worse.

But she needed to go back. Even if she threw up again, even if she passed out. Her determination held.

Fauna unbuttoned the edge of one of her sleeves and brought it up to her mouth, covering her nose. She went back in, freckles stark against her pale face. She avoided looking at the body, and focused on the Aurors for now.

"Sorry," she told them quietly, voice muffled by the fabric.

Archer, his voice sounding awfully congested, stepped past him and over to the body, so Jonas stayed where he was, taking a deep breath as he surveyed the scene.  The air smelled metallic and pungent, with an undercurrent of something rotten, akin to spoiled eggs.  With a frown, the former private investigator eyed the body, and then carefully began to examine the room from where he stood.

Nothing looked scorched or burned.  The blood had splattered out from the corpse in an approximately equidistant manner.  His forehead creasing, Jonas turned his attention to the walls, letting his gaze play over the ancient graffiti and pleas from long-dead prisoners that had been inscribed into the stones.

Sharp's comment barely registered; it took him a beat longer to reply than usual.  "Well, that's assuming that the killing was intentional," Jonas said absently, still clearly focused on the walls.  "Or even the point of this.  It might've been a spell gone wrong, or some historic curse that got activated with our mate in the way."

Here in the Tower of London, he thought, the latter was perfectly plausible.  The buildings were old enough that they might well have accumulated their own collection of older enchantments over the years.  There was an easy way to check for that, though.  He drew his wand, preparing to cast a spell, when the sound of movement behind him and a muffled voice caught his attention.

Jonas glanced back, and then relaxed slightly, flashing the girl a tight smile.  "It's well, Blake," he said easily, his gaze shifting from her to Sharp.  Both were young, though the boy had a few more years under his belt.  Radley had brought them along with a purpose in mind.  If they were going to be Aurors one day, it was worth walking them through this.

"Here, look," he said, cocking his head to motion for them both to join him.  "You can stop me if you lot have been through this sort of thing already.  Step one with something like this, we want to see what information we can gather," he said, his eyes moving over the small room.  "It's tricky, but you don't want to make assumptions -- just gather the facts.  If you latch onto an incorrect assumption too soon, you might miss the truth of it all.  So just focus on what you can see -- what details you notice."

"Since Arch was kind enough to volunteer to examine the corpse for us," Jonas continued, with a slightly crooked smile, "we can focus on the rest of the scene."  He nodded to the room in front of them, his forehead creasing as he watched the two trainees.  "With something like this, I start running through what I can see, even if the facts seem obvious.  So we know that we've got a body," he added, pointing to the mass in the middle of the room.  "What else do you two notice?"

Archer felt a momentary pang of sympathy for the young auror-in-training who had to run out and help herself not contaminate the scene.  She’d have to learn how to take care of herself, and if she thought she was going to last, this would not be the worst thing they’d ever see.  Sure, it was gory, but gore wasn’t the worst thing you could come across. 

Licking his lips, Archer pointed his wand at the young woman and cast the spell he used on himself in her direction.  She’d appreciate it.  Besides, it’d make her more productive.  After all, teaching was really secondary here. 

Sharp was commenting about the state of the corpse and Archer nodded roughly, just acknowledging what he had to say as his eyes stayed peeled on the body.  It was interesting, to him, and he had suspicions.  Certainly things that were supposed to be safely tucked inside the body cavity were not, and he mulled his mouth, tapping his wand against the floor, the clicking helped him think. 

He stood up and looked at the pile, then looked at the splatter.  There seemed to be an even spray, as though it went from inside of him and out, and Archer frowned.  It wasn't likely the spell was cast from any particular direction, but then again, it must have come from somewhere.  If no one else had ever ended up like this in this room, it had to be particular to this victim.  It wasn't likely someone was just going to wander in here and mutter the magic words, say the spell and display the correct runes to do something like this... Archer pursed his lips and considered. 

Rubbing the bottom half of his face, he took a few steps back from the body for a moment.  “Don’t totally discount our friend here,” he motioned to the pile of innards, and whatever else was there - maybe a bone was poking out of there, or a few with white glossy surfaces, “We might not know who it is yet,” Archer squirmed to think of how they were going to figure it out, “but keep ‘im in mind while you look.”  He pursed his lips and moved forward again.

From the spot next to the deceased, Archer imagined the conditions of the previous evening.  He couldn't guess what time -the body wasn't even identifiable at this point, but he imagined from the mass, the person was large, and since the blow didn't come from one direction, Archer looked up, wondering if there was anywhere to perch...

Fauna entered the room last. Rémy saw her expression change abruptly, and knew what was coming; as she rushed out of the room, he felt a pang of sympathy for her, but did his best to tune out her retching sounds from outside. It wouldn't do to have a chain reaction of vomiting trainees on the job. Eventually she came back in, still pale, but apparently more resolved to handle the situation. While the other two Aurors were distracted, he shot her a thumbs-up in an attempt to reassure her.

Turning his attention back to the scene, he listened to Jonas' advice and Archer's comments. He'd heard it before - don't jump to conclusions - but doing it in training and doing it on the job were two different things entirely. Dozens of scenarios played themselves out in his imagination, from poltergeists to dark magic, and it was difficult to tune those out and just focus on the facts of the scene in front of him. Standing straight, he glanced down at the footprint one more time before looking around the rest of the room.

Scratching his head, he scanned the blood spatters all over the room, and finally got up the nerve to say, "Well, he - it's just a mess. A big, mushy mess. And the blood is just sort of sprayed evenly everywhere, in no particular direction." He waved his hands all around, indicating the spread of bloodstains. "Even if you had a meat cleaver and a few hours to work, you couldn't accomplish that kind of a pattern with a body. I mean, maybe if you dropped an anvil on it, but even if he got crushed, he'd be flat, but a little more identifiable than this pulpy mess. He looks more like he could have just...I don't know, exploded from the inside, all at once." He clapped his hands together and then expanded them apart, as though trying to give an idea of what it might look like.

Then he frowned, a knew thought derailing the previous one. "But even then, if somebody used a spell to make him blow up, there would be bits and pieces of him all over the place, instead of this one little pile in the middle and then all the blood everywhere."

Her nose properly plugged, Fauna forced herself to look at the mess of the body as Remy began offering his observations. She stood a slight distance away and crossed her arms.

Remy's analysis sounded like it was coming from a tunnel, in one of her ears and out the other, but she was able to follow his miming (a little too well when he clapped his hands together to demonstrate an explosion). It began to sink in. She tried to adopt the same mindset, studying the pulpy mess not as a person, but as a body that had suffered unfortunate events.

It only lasted a moment or two before Fauna shuddered. She looked at the Aurors. How did they do it? How did they push past the horror?

In the silence that settled she realized Remy had finished speaking. "Okay," she said to herself, taking a breath and urging her feet forward.

"Um... there's a lot of blood," she paused. "And there aren't any... bits... scattered," Fauna gestured, covered her mouth to cough, and hesitated again. So far, she was just echoing Remy.

"Um... and the head looks wrong," she leaned forward slightly, keeping the tips of her boots away from the blood splatter.

"Because, well, where's the face? It's kind of turned around?" She gestured with her hands. "Maybe turned around isn't the right word for it. The rest of... it looks that way too."

She glanced up, grateful to wrench her gaze away and focus on the Aurors. Though she couldn't quite appreciate it right this second, Fauna knew that she and Remy were getting a big chance here.

"Is it human?" She blurted out, images from too many alien movies invading her mind. Some color returned to her cheeks as she shook her head, wishing she could take that comment back.

Jonas was only distantly paying attention to the trainees at this point; most of his attention was focused on the body, on the room, and on the smell of spoiled eggs in the air.  Enough of their observations registered for him to nod distractedly along; they'd started with the body, as Archer had suggested, and were noticing the right sort of details.

Blake's voice sounded as if from a distance, her final question ringing out enough to get his attention again.  "Is it human?"

"Good question," he said, looking to Archer.  The big Auror was closer to the body, and considering Jonas's twelve year absence from the Corps, was likely far more familiar with the spells or potions that would answer Blake's inquiry.  "That's the sort of thing that we ought to be asking -- don't assume anything when there's magic involved."

He glanced to the trainees briefly, flashing them both an reassuring smile.  "You're both spotting the right sort of things.  Good call, too, on noticing the bloodstain pattern," he said with an encouraging nod to Sharp.  "Bloodstains can tell you where an individual was positioned when they were injured, where or if they moved once they were bleeding, the direction of the mechanism of injury -- all those are bits that will help us if we can figure 'em out.  With this," he said, nodding to the mess in front of them, "the fact that it's right even, it makes me think that it wasn't a directional spell that hit him."

If it wasn't directional, there was a good chance that the spell had been anchored in an object.  Frowning, Jonas returned his attention to the walls, the floor.  The object might have been removed by their murderer, but it was possible that it was still present.  If it wasn't visible to the naked eye, though, then they were going to have to resort to magical methods to examine the crime scene.

The red-headed Auror frowned, sniffing experimentally at the air again.  It still smelled like rotten eggs -- like sulfur.  "There's a few spells that you'll find yourself using regularly, Blake," he told the trainee, clearly only half paying attention to the others in the room.  "Auror Radley'll be able to show you how to tell if the body's human or not.  And maybe Sharp, when you get a chance, you can show her how to cast Revoficus[1]."

It still somewhat amazed Jonas how quickly he'd picked up casting spells again, now that his magic seemed to have returned.  Regaining his confidence seemed to be more than half the battle.  He'd rediscovered his old knack for defensive spells and transfiguration, as well as picking up a few new tricks from his partner. 

Aramaic spells were particularly tricky; Adon had explained that they depended as much on the mage's understanding of the syntax and syllabic breakdown as they did determination or skill.  This one in particular had seemed useful after Raizel Cohen had cast it on him to see if he was still under the effects of the Egyptian curse, and so Jonas had spent some time working with his friend to master it.  He still couldn't get the same bold colors that Adon claimed to see when he used it, but the faint glow of magical auras was more than enough to signal when an active spell was present.

"And this one," he said, with a sort of firm, clear determination in his voice as he raised his wand, "we'll have to ask Auror Eleor to show you lot later.  Goleya."

1.	The Evidence Recovery Charm

Trevelyan's encouragement and reassurance made this whole process easier, and Fauna nodded at his conclusion that it wasn't a directional spell, following his gaze to the walls and structure around them.

When he spoke the strange spell, the body glowed a faint red, and Fauna took an involuntary step back. Above the bloody heap, an arcane symbol formed, unlike anything she'd seen in textbooks or at Hogwarts.

The symbol stretched between two high points in the tower, its spiky corners radiating malice. It did not appear to be formed by the sure strokes of a wand, but instead looked to be made out of fine, shimmering red dots, like droplets on a spider's web.

Fauna blinked up at it, her stomach flopping again. What if they had touched it? How did they dispel it?

"What is that?" She whispered.

Fauna could only imagine finding it in the depths of the Forbidden Forest, where acromantulas, hags, and other creatures lurked. Here, it had an ancient aura, a wildness that the Tower of London, for all its history, could not match.

Archer was glad to see the trainees were being active in this.  He didn't like the ones that expected all the work to get done for them, and Sharp and Eyes were of his ilk: former Hufflepuffs.  They knew what it meant to work hard, and they were doing well.  Granted, Eyes had a weak stomach, but he couldn't fault her for that - and Sharp's instincts were good, but he still needed work too. 

He distantly heard them continuing to talk as he was gazing at the ceiling, reasoning that there was not a suitable foothold for a person to be up there for the attack.  They could have, obviously, but he didn't see how or why they would.  There were more direct ways, and he shook his head. 

Looking back when he heard his name, Archer blinked, slowly.  He had to readjust to think about what he had to do and then reached for his kit.  Kneeling down again, Archer opened it up and sighed.  Everything an auror could need, outside of his wand, was located in this little leather case, and carefully laid it down to avoid meddling with the rest of the evidence. 

"Watch this, Eyes," he said taking out a small vial.  The powder inside didn't look like much, but when he opened it up, he was able to take a pinch and and using a small section of pooled blood, drop the pinch in.  The blood sizzled and fizzed for a moment, making a hissing sound, familiar to Archer and then the surface of the puddle started to glass over... it got thicker, cloudier, and finally hardened, like a galleon sized medallion.  "Human," he stated simply, shaking his had at the bloody mess.

He picked up the hardened blood circle and put it in the kit.  They'd probably use it for something at headquarters.  He was going to stand up, but Jonas was talking about spells and used one of Eleor's - the Middle Eastern stuff, Archer didn't have a good grasp on it - call it being set in his ways, but whatever it did - Archer's jaw dropped.

"Bloody hell," he breathed, groping at the kit for the camera - but his eyes were left attentive to the strangest thing he had ever seen.  "For fuck's sake," he muttered under his breath, hoping the camera would fall under his fingertips.

Rémy watched attentively as Archer's powder did its work, the blood on the floor sizzling and finally coalescing into a small, round disc. Fauna's question was answered - human indeed. He grimaced as Archer put away the evidence, muttering, "Poor bloke. Hope it happened as quick as it looks like it did." All that splattering couldn't have possibly been from a slow death, he hoped.

He turned to Fauna, holding up his wand, and started to say, "Alright then, the Evidence Recovery Charm - "

But Jonas had already cast some Aramaic spell he'd learned from Adon, setting the body glowing crimson, along with the air above it. He froze as the symbol formed in the air, wand still raised, his mouth forming a silent O of alarm. The shimmering red droplets over his head pulsated ominously, and he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He heard Archer cursing off to the side as the big Auror fumbled for the camera.

Rem was just slightly appalled that his first instinct was to touch the thing and see what happened, but given the state of the corpse on the floor, he held still for fear of triggering some unpleasant spell.

"That is just....lovely," he commented. "But, uh... how do we do anything with it without possibly ending up like our friend on the floor there?" Supposing, of course, that this was the murder....'weapon.'