Who Will Stop the Rain

Secrets in the Soil

Harry paced back and forth the forensics lab, waiting impatiently as Neville analysed the origami figurines that Hermione had recovered from Theo Nott's office. His stress was palpable to everyone around him, it seemed to radiate off of his body like static. Of course, that could be his magic. Harry had always struggled to keep it in check when he was angry.

Soon after Harry had arrived back at the Ministry to receive an update on the search for Scorpius Malfoy, Ron had come back from St. Mungo's after escorting Pansy Nott there. He said that while the Healers were certain that Pansy was the victim of a messy memory alteration, it was going to take time to recover the original memories. While it was a small step forward in the case, it did little to alleviate Harry's worries. There was no telling how long it would take the Healers to recover Pansy's memory, or indeed if she knew the identity of the killer, but if they didn't do it soon, it would be too late to save Scorpius Malfoy.

Harry felt like he was coming apart at the seams - the pressure from the Ministry, the press, the victims' parents, and most of all himself, was insurmountable. He wasn't making enough progress with the case. It was his fault, of course, his responsibility to solve these crimes, yet one failure kept piling up after another. Recently he had taken to sleeping at the office because there was too much work for him to do, not that he ever slept - every time he closed his eyes, passed and current nightmares revisited him. That night at the graveyard in Little Hangleton, the Battle of Hogwarts, eight children of Death Eaters found dead and discarded...no, he'd rather work himself into the ground that revisit those horrors in his dreams.

"You know, pacing back and forth like that isn't going to make this go any faster," Neville warned him without looking up from. Harry stopped pacing and sighed, sinking into a stool next to Neville.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Please tell me you have something for me, Neville. I'm at the end of my tether, here."

Neville gently placed the origami figure back onto the desktop and rubbed his tired eyes, "Well, the washi paper is the same type found with the other bodies. And it isn't store-bought, either. It's made with gampi - a Japanese shrub, member of the genus Wikstroemia. It's a temperamental little plant, needs to be saturated in water and sap before it is harvested in late Spring--"

"Neville," said Harry wearily. His old school friend was prone to going off on tangents whenever Herbology was the topic of discussion.

"Sorry. Point being, that this little plant has been cultivated and cared for over time. The killer evidently has an uncanny knack for Herbology. Speaking of which..." Neville swished his wand. A nearby drawer slid open and a brown folder flew through the air and landed on the table in front of him. Neville opened the folder and pointed at complicated charts that Harry made no attempt to decipher.

"I completed my analysis of the narcissus; it's a Muggle flower. Narcissus are hardy and easy perennials to grow, pretty much any Muggle or wizarding garden would be equipped to breed this variant."

Harry's shoulders sagged, "Well that's not much help, is it? Anyone could have grown the bloody thing."

"If you let me finish before you interrupt," said Neville pointedly. Harry shut his mouth and Neville continued, "We can't tell you much about where the flowers were grown, but I can tell you quite a lot about the soil they were planted in." He pointed at one of the charts, "The soil that we recovered from the flowers was different from what we found at the crime scenes. The first thing I noticed was the unusual colouring and clay texture of the soil, so I ran some tests. As I suspected, the soil is high in nutrients, and the colouration is derived from red sandstone. Sedimentary rocks found in most eastern parts of Devonshire include Permian and Triassic sandstones - that's gives it this unique red colour."

Harry stared blankly at Neville, "So..."

Neville rolled his eyes, "The flowers were grown in Devon, Harry. That's most likely where you'll find your killer."

Harry sat back, stunned at the revelation. There weren't that many Wizarding families in the Devonshire area. This was the break that he had desperately needed.

"Neville," said Harry carefully. "You may have just taken us one massive step towards solving this case."

Just then, heavy footsteps came hurrying down the corridor. A moment later, Ron came bursting into the lab, striding towards Harry and Neville.

"Harry!" he called.

Harry slid off the stool and got to his feet, "What's happened?"

"A report's just come in," Ron huffed. "A body's been found."

Harry's heart missed a beat, "Scorpius Malfoy?"

Ron shook his head, "Gregory Goyle."

Harry gaped, "We've got a serial killer on the loose and now Goyle's dead? What the fuck is going on?"

Ron shrugged, "Merlin only knows, Harry. There's never been so many murders and disappearances. Not since You-Know-Who's days."

Harry swore under his breath and marched out of the room, closely followed by Ron. This was just typical. Just when he thought he was making some progress, someone had to throw a bloody spanner in the works.

"What do we know so far?" he asked, heading towards the elevators.

"There were signs of a struggle, the flat is in a real mess. Goyle was found in one of the bedrooms, stabbed to death," Ron explained.

"Stabbed?" asked Harry in disbelief. "Do they think it was a Muggle?"

Ron shook his head, "He had a big bloody dagger sticking out of his chest, but it wasn't an ordinary Muggle blade, it was imbued with dark magic. Looks like we've got another killer on the loose."

"That's the last thing we need," he muttered darkly. "Any suspects?"

"Only one so far," said Ron. "Draco Malfoy."