The Tear Collector (a Harry Potter fanfic)

Chapter Six: A Change of Plan

Jeremiah wolfed his lunch down, dying to go and prepare for his first club meeting with Nancy. Once his sausages and eggs were gone, he headed to Gryffindor common room to pack what he thought he would need. 

He decided to take his favourite Sherlock Holmes book with him. This would be easiest to discuss as he had read it so many times. And the more discussion, he thought as he headed to the library, the less awkward silences. He was looking forward to the first meeting, but the truth was, he didn't know Nancy all that well and he often got nervous around girls. As a solution to this, he had taken plenty of notes on the books he had selected, meaning it would be almost impossible for him to be lost for words.  

He arrived at the library whereNancy already awaited him. Her eyes lit up when she saw him and she gave an eager smile which he returned nervously.

They found a desk in the farthest corner where they decided Madam Pince could not breathe down their necks shushing them every time they uttered a word. When Nancydidn't speak, Jeremiah took out his book and showed it to her.  

'Oh! "The Hound of Baskervilles"!' she exclaimed, not quite looking at him. 'That's my favourite too!'  

'Really?' he replied in excitement. 'What's your favourite part?' 

'Well, um, I don't know. I like it all really,' Nancy spoke awkwardly, shifting in her seat. Jeremiah thought it strange that she didn't know what her favourite part of her favourite book was. What kind of fan was she? Was she even a fan? Jeremiah felt a little angry at her. Was it all a prank? Was she just trying to humiliate him? But he didn't say anything. He sat in silence, his notes of no use to him. Eventually, he could wait no longer.  

'Why did you really ask me to come here today?' he questioned Nancy, his voice annoyed but curious.  

'Okay,' she said, looking directly into his eyes for the first time that afternoon. 'I'll tell you...' Jeremiah's anger was suddenly extinguished. Somehow he knew that she wasn't here to make fun of him. 

She began to explain, 'I am a fan, honest. It's just, I'm not so good at reading, I've only seen the films. And it's all so...inspiring.' Jeremiah couldn't see where she was going but listened still.  

'I thought,' she continued staring down at the table, 'it's stupid, I know. But I thought we could be like him...I thought we could be detectives.' Suddenly she looked at him, and he looked at her. And they both felt the excitement rising. Jeremiah didn't know what to say. The idea was exhilarating. He had always dreamed of becoming like Sherlock Holmes, like his hero. But how? What was there to investigate? And then it hit him. He had almost forgotten with all the excitement. Nancy wanted to investigate the murder of Orsay Westwall. He looked at her half shocked, half inquisitive.  

'Are you asking to me to investigate the murder?' She nodded her head.  

'Are you crazy?' he asked. 'Do you want to end up in trouble?' 

'Come on, Jeremiah. Do you think I've not thought about the risks? Of course I have! Sherlock Holmes never backed down because of something tiny like trouble. He knew that risks have to be taken in the name of justice. Trouble was his middle name!' 

Jeremiah sighed. His head was rushing with thoughts of investigating, adventuring, discovering... It all seemed so exciting. But there were consequences. Professor McGonagall had warned all of them. And that included Jeremiah and Nancy. But as much he feared those consequences, he knew Nancy was right. Risks had to be taken in the name of justice and who was he to spoil the fun? 

'Where do we start?' he asked.

*

Nancypaced the by the fireplace of the deserted Gryffindor common room. Jeremiah was seated beside her, his chin in his hands, concentrating.  

'Why would someone want to kill Orsay?' Nancy asked, not looking for a specific answer, but for a list of reasons.  

'Maybe they had a grudge against her?' Jeremiah suggested.  

'Okay,' she continued, 'say someone- a student- has a grudge against Orsay. Do you really think they would hate her enough to kill her? Besides, despite what that Skeeter woman said in the Daily Prophet about Nancy being a "misunderstood what's-it?"' 

'Misfit,' Jeremiah added.  

'Misfit,' Nancy continued, 'Orsay didn't in fact have any nemesiseses...blargh!' Nancy laughed. Jeremiah joined in.  

'Anyway, she wasn't everyone's best friend, but no one really hated her. Or so I was told by Lacey Finn who was Orsay's friend.' 

Jeremiah took it all in, impressed at how much Nancy knew.  

'Okay,' he said, 'then let's say it wasn't a student. Let's say it wasn't anyone at Hogwarts. What else do we know about Orsay?' 

'We know her mother was killed six days before she died,' Nancy answered.  

'And then she died?' Jeremiah said suspiciously, 'seems funny doesn't it?' 

'Well, yes. But her mother wasn't murdered; she died of a bad case of Spattergroit.' 

Again, Jeremiah was astonished by Nancy's knowledge. He was also a little embarrassed because he knew so little.  

'Maybe they didn't kill Orsay because of Orsay,' he said,' maybe she had something that they wanted. Something they needed. Like an important object.' 

'I have heard of some sacred objects,' Nancy spoke muttering something about Deathly Hallows. 'But why would Orsay have it? It doesn't make sense.' Frustration was building up in both of them and it didn't help that they were both ready to fall asleep. 

Jeremiah tried his best to remain calm. 'Okay. Let's forget that they were actually targeting Orsay. Why do people kill? Revenge we've ruled out. If they wanted something... we've ruled that out too. Enjoyment?'  

Nancy's head shot up. 'The only person that I can think of that would kill out of enjoyment would be...You-Know-Who. He can't be here in the castle. Can he?' Fear filled Nancy's eyes.  

'Hmm. I think Professor Dumbledore would realize. Plus, think about the wound on Orsay's back. The Ministry say they think it was a blade. Surely You-Know-Who would use magic.' 

Nancy's shoulders seemed less tense after that.  

'I don't know, Jeremiah.' It sounded strange to his ears, her speaking his name. 'We'll be able to think better once we've had some sleep.' 

'You're right,' he agreed.

So the detectives headed for bed. Jeremiah didn't know about Nancy, but he knew he would struggle to sleep that night. The theories he had had before had somewhat died down but now they were back. And they were stronger.  

This, however, made him smile smugly. Suddenly, he was in one his Sherlock Holmes books. He was the detective and everyone was a suspect. He would have to stay sharp and keep his eyes peeled for even the tiniest of details. Because he knew only too well that they could be the key to justice.