Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything connected to it.
I was working the day shift for the third week in a row, the warm air not suiting my temperament in this, the dark streets of Knockturn. I shoulda never moved my business here, but after a stint in the prisons over on the Westside I had to move somewhere and here seemed the best place to start again. The muggle world never appreciate a good dick, but here they were crying out for a detective that would rustle the features of the broads and the dames and do what needed to be done to the fellas who didn't know which side of the road they wanted to be on.
The newest client that was shown through the door, now he was a weird one. Seemed like he made the smoke in the office part as he sat down, the fan above us seemed to just pause and think as this young fella walked into the room.
You could tell he was old family, not that he looked it, he looked like he was some runaway from the other muggle world.
He had scars, we all have em, but one on the forehead, that was a new different one. I knew who he was, who didn't, but I didn't judge him on what his past deeds were, not unless it'd affect the case.
"What can I do for ya Mr?"
"Potter." He said, he wasn't relaxed though, wild eyes ones that 'ave seen too much in their young life. I'd known too many people with eyes like that, most of them had been supremos or serial killers and the latter I helped put at the bottom of the river. I poured myself a drink, it was probably too early to start drinking, so said the last broad who shared a bed with me, but I felt like this kid was about to drop something significant onto my plate. I offered him a drink, but he declined, not sure if that was an intelligent thing on his part or maybe he just didn't like the look of my liquor bottle.
The kid's tale was certainly one that needed a drink involved in it.
He'd also landed a good question on my desk and a whole load-a paperwork for my secretary to handle. She was going to hate that. A sweetheart to the dames that came in here but a banshee to me if I spilt any of my liquor on the desk, Dementors cry out if I got any on the files that she keeps so well. She was as valuable any of my other contacts that I used on occasion.
I'd never heard of anyone needing to escape from that good ole magical school, but this kid, Harry Potter, yeah, I knew who he was, but it was nice that he was honest with me.
I had all sorts come in and try to lie to me, some think that they even got away with it. Lying to a private dick.
Seemed someone had entered him into that magical school contest they were having up there this time of year.
"Magical contract." I repeated, it was the term that head of his old magical school used. Dumbledore was his name. I'd heard tales of the old man bandied about. He was about the most powerful fella in some of the old circles. The ones where they liked to police the entry to their clubs and talk about the shifting tides, not the ruff and tumble of the places I usually frequented.
I'd heard fellas and some of the fancy dames talk about these 'magical contracts', but they'd always been willing.
I'd had some clients that wanted me on ones, they didn't trust my private detective ways, and to be fair if I knew the things I'd done, I wouldn't trust me neither.
I'd never heard of one being entered into without a fella or a broad's consent though. This was some funky magic going on with these fellas he was dealing with.
I took the case, not because of the bag of money the kid offered, but because it was an investigation with lots a leads and it means I could finally use my licence for something more than wandering around the Ministry of Magic, pokin' into their business and their paper planes.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizard.
I exhaled the smoke that I'd just lit up, no smokin' all the way from London. The muggles might not have magic, but at least they had cars you could smoke in.
A real classy dame met me at the gates of the school, she wore a scowl that, if it was meant to intimidate me didn't do a good job, I'd faced more intimidating women than this dame. My ex was mighty scary when she got worked up.
The dame, the Deputy Head demanded to know where my client was.
I couldn't say, which was the truth, he was off, hidden away by my secretary somewhere out in the muggle world, away from wand wavers of the magical world. I knew a few places that magic users couldn't touch. A safe place to put clients while I did my own brand of magic here. Though I still had ta think of my client so I'd organised a blood drinker to go and school him while he was away from the supposedly imposing buildin' that lay before me.
I'd been to places like this before, themed restaurants and the like and they never got above their station, but this was the real deal and didn't it know it.
In fact once within, it was like being embraced by a classy dame's bossom, one that was also a mind sucker. You felt it move around in your head and then pop, out go your brains literally both ways.
I don't tend to judge, most of this world's screwed up in some ways or another, and some of my clients are often the ones who're screwed over by the world. Otherwise they wouldn't be comin' to me.
The headmaster, some bumblebee of a man, he was the one of the slimiest that I've seen in a while.
I felt his mind reach out to me, somethin', but once you've been felt up by a mind sucker you always know when another one's comin' to touch you up in a back alley for a couple'a sickles. This wizard was no different. He might have had the sparklin' eyes and friendly disposition on the outside but he was all hooker on the inside.
I put him in his place, it seemed he'd not had a muggle weapon pointed at his chest. I carried it with me, always useful to smack someone around the face with, easier than a wand. Less spell tracks for the authorities to track. But they left us dicks alone, they were too busy bein' paid off to trouble us.
After that I was ready to begin my investigation proper, and the suspect list coudn't have been bigger unless I was investigating that attempted assassination if the Minister back those years before.
This is one of those ideas that wouldn't leave me alone. It came out of a review I read that said a HP story was like a 30s detective novel, and this is where my imagination went.
I know it's pastiche and borderline parody of the noir genre, but it was just an idea that wouldn't leave me alone.
That said I realised after completing it this far that it's really hard to sustain this style.
Also first person is something I almost never write in.
So this is only 2 chapters, 2 short chapters at that.