Potterlock

The Case of the Missing Wand

Dead.

Moriarty was dead.

"No, no, no, it shouldn't be this easy!" Sherlock didn't even realize that he had been speaking out loud. He began inspecting the room and the body. He had seen the green light of the killing curse hit him in the chest. They had hit him repeatedly. No pulse, no light in the eyes, no breathing. Even as he thought, the body was relaxing further and it was cold.

Cold.

A body shouldn't be cold when it's only been dead for three minutes and forty-seven seconds.

It's not him. But then who was it?

"Not important," Sherlock muttered and scurried about the room, looking for traces of evidence. Dust and rat droppings littered the floor. Small piles of dirt were scattered about, the furniture set in the corner was covered with dust cloths, and the hearth was full of antique ash. The dust was disturbed where they had stepped and where 'Moriarty' had been, but not where the chair was.

"Where is the son?" Sherlock stepped around the space where the chair had been. He moved his hand through the empty space and found nothing. The others were conversing about what had happened but he needed to think.

Sherlock closed his eyes and entered the Mind Palace. He descended the spiral staircase and began rummaging through his things. There was nothing in his notes about magic acting after you were dead. He paced furiously. He had been so close, but then Moriarty had snatched himself away. Again. Sherlock moved to the padded cell where he kept Moriarty's image in his Mind Palace. The man was ragged, bound, and delirious, as Sherlock knew he was inside. "What would you do if you were coming to kill me and I was cold after three minutes and forty-seven seconds?" He demanded of the Mind Palace Moriarty.

"You weren't you and I wasn't me. You didn't die because I wouldn't kill you. Not just yet, dear Sherlock. We haven't been able to finish our game!" Moriarty cackled.

"I didn't kill you either. They did."

"Harry Potter, your powerful brother, your pet potions teacher and your pet Head of Magical Law Enforcement? Of course they'd try to kill me. But they can't! They're just not smart enough to kill me! You're the only one who's even close Sherlock, but even then, I don't know if I'd let you!" He singsonged.

"Then what did you do?"

"I bet they'd ask you the same question. You did something similar to this, didn't you Sherlock?" Moriarty pouted.

"I didn't use magic," Sherlock snapped.

"Oh, what a pity. It would've been so much more convincing if you had. I knew you weren't dead. But I bet you thought I was when I shot myself in the face. Poor, stupid, little Sherlock, believing a Muggle gun could kill me. Ha!"

"And you aren't dead. I'm beginning to think you weren't even there when we arrived."

"Now you might be getting somewhere, but you'll never find me with Potter and his fan club in tow."

"Correct, you are. Best I come alone."

Sherlock opened his eyes, it was time he was on his way. He did one quick look around at the evidence, making sure it was committed to memory, then he disappeared into thin air.

"Sherlock?" John said, dumbfounded that he would just leave.

"Where the bloody hell did he go?" Greg Lestrade asked.

"He's probably gone off to find the criminal, but he'll probably end up getting himself killed. He really should have run away and became a pirate when he was young, it would have turned out so much better for all of us," Mycroft replied irritably.

Harry ignored them and began looking around the room. The body was cold, and it shouldn't be, not yet. He also didn't have a wand, which mystified Harry. A man like Moriarty wouldn't give himself up so easily. He would've had a wand, he would've fought.

"It's not him," Harry said.

"What do you mean 'it's not him'? Of course it's him!" Greg said.

"No, it's not. He's already cold," Harry pointed at the body.

John came over and inspected it, "This should not be happening."

"He also doesn't have a wand," Harry pointed out.

"So?" Greg asked.

"Maybe my dear baby brother filched it before he left," Mycroft shrugged disdainfully brushed dust off of his clothes.

"He didn't have one when we walked in and he doesn't have one now. Men like him don't go down without a fight," Harry said.

"No, I think you're right, Harry. I don't think it's actually him," John stood.

Harry continued looking around, "There are no marks in the dust where the chair was. I don't think Seamus was actually here. I think it was some sort of illusion; that's how he disappeared without a trace."

"We still don't know who's body that is," Greg reminded them, his experience with the Muggle police and identifying bodies was beginning to show.

"I don't know, but I think we should leave and think it over. None of this is going anywhere. We can regroup and make a plan in the morning. Maybe Sherlock will have returned by then," Harry suggested.

Harry couldn't sleep that night. He kept seeing the room in Moriarty's mansion when he closed his eyes. Moriarty's body was lying in the corner, the floor was dusty with piles of dirt. Harry's eyes snapped open. Why were there piles of dirt? He got up and dressed in a flash, if there was someone who would be able to explain this to him, it would be the woman who was the brightest witch of her age, Hermione Granger, well, Hermione Weasley now. Harry grabbed his invisibility cloak and disappeared into the night. He sent his Patronus ahead to let her know that he was coming and apologized for the lateness of the hour.

She opened the door for him and quickly led him downstairs where they could talk. Ron stood waiting for them and Harry ran up and hugged his best friend. "Blimey, Harry, you scared us with that Patronus! I thought we were dead for sure!"

"I'm sorry guys, it's just, I needed your help," he turned to Hermione. "We went after him today and we killed him. Or at least we thought we did," Harry continued before they could start celebrating. "Seamus disappeared, but he was tied to a chair. The funny thing was, there weren't any marks in the dust from the chair and the body we killed was cold only moments after it died."

"Bodies don't cool that early," Hermione mused.

"Exactly, and there wasn't a wand. But the strangest part was the piles of dirt scattered around the room," Harry said.

"Maybe he was a messy bloke," Ron shrugged, "But why didn't he have a wand?"

"We're beginning to think that it wasn't even him. Men like him don't go down without a fight and he just smiled when we came in."

"That's not disturbing at all," Ron muttered.

"What do you think Hermi-" Harry turned to look at her but she was rummaging through bookshelves muttering about piles of dirt.

"It's not any magic they taught us about in school. There are other types of magic that you can discover through experimentation, though it isn't recommended," Hermione said.

"Isn't that what Luna's mom did?" Harry asked.

"Yes, it is very dangerous and often costs the experimenter their life if they aren't careful. But someone like... him... can experiment more easily because they are so intelligent. Voldemort did, I have no doubts that Sherlock Holmes does, and he probably does, too. It's not that uncommon. I wonder what all they've discovered, I bet some of it could be helpful if properly applied..." Hermione trailed off, thinking of the possibilities.

"That's probably not something you want to look into," a deep, masculine voice said from the stairs.

Author's Note

Hello, Witches, Wizards, and Muggles! I hope you've enjoyed this chapter; I'm sorry it took me so long to update. Please vote and comment to let me know what you thought! Thanks a million! xox