Mystery of the Broken Wand - Chapter - 5 (Patreon)

Crabbe and Goyle sat in the corner of a dimly lit Muggle pub, watching James Cook down another pint of beer. The pub was seedy, the air thick with the smell of stale alcohol and cigarettes. Muggles moved around them, laughing, shouting, and oblivious to the two wizards' presence. Crabbe had to resist the urge to sneer at the dirty establishment, his disgust for Muggle life apparent. But he stayed quiet, knowing that they needed to remain inconspicuous.

For days now, Crabbe and Goyle had been following James Cook, observing his every move. The man appeared to be nothing more than a common criminal, a local gang member involved in all sorts of illegal activities: prostitution, drug deals, and petty theft. Every part of Crabbe wanted to hex the man where he stood, but they had strict orders not to interfere in Muggle matters unless absolutely necessary.

"This is getting us nowhere," Crabbe muttered under his breath, frustration evident in his voice. "We've been following this git for days, and all we’ve seen is him indulging in Muggle filth. If he's a wizard, he's hiding it bloody well."

Goyle, who was seated beside Crabbe, nodded, his eyes still fixed on James as he stumbled out of the pub. "He has to be a wizard," Goyle said firmly. "No ordinary Muggle would be tangled up with a known Death Eater like Zabini. There's something he's hiding, and we're going to find out what."

Crabbe grunted in agreement but couldn't shake off the feeling that they were chasing shadows. Still, they had a mission, and failure wasn't an option. They'd already tried their first plan—planting the wand on James's running path, hoping he'd pick it up and reveal himself. But to their disappointment, James had simply run past it without a second glance.

Now they needed a new approach, and Goyle had come up with a plan that, at first glance, seemed foolproof. He would use Polyjuice Potion to disguise himself as an old man, and then, under the guise of needing help, he would trick James into holding the wand. If James was a wizard, even a hidden one, he'd recognize the wand for what it was.

"I still think this is a waste of time," Crabbe grumbled as they waited outside the pub for James to reappear. "If he didn't react to the wand the first time, why would he now?"

"Because this time," Goyle said confidently, "I'm going to put it right in his hand. If he’s a wizard, he won’t be able to ignore it. And if he isn’t… well, at least we’ll know."

Crabbe nodded, although he wasn’t entirely convinced. Goyle had already taken the Polyjuice Potion, and his appearance had shifted into that of an elderly man, complete with gray hair, wrinkled skin, and a slight stoop. The transformation was impressive, and even Crabbe had to admit that Goyle looked convincing.

They didn’t have to wait long. James emerged from the pub, his gait unsteady as he staggered down the street. He was clearly drunk, and Crabbe couldn’t help but smirk. This would make their job easier. Goyle, now looking like a frail old man, hobbled forward, pretending to drop his wallet in James's path.

James noticed the wallet and bent down to pick it up. As he did, Goyle, in his best impression of an elderly gentleman, asked, "Could you hold this for a moment, young man?" He extended the wand, disguised as a walking stick, towards James.

But instead of taking the "stick" as planned, James grabbed the wallet and, without a second thought, took off running down the street. The sight was almost comical—Goyle, still in the guise of an old man, shouting after him, and Crabbe left standing there, dumbfounded.

"Did he just… steal our money?" Crabbe asked incredulously.

Goyle, having given up the chase, trudged back to Crabbe's side, his expression one of disbelief. "Bloody hell. He just nicked our money. The whole plan—ruined because of some Muggle greed."

Crabbe's face flushed with anger. "This is ridiculous! We've been trailing him for days, and all we've got to show for it is a stolen wallet!"

Goyle reverted back to his usual form as the Polyjuice Potion wore off. His features morphed, his skin smoothing out, and his posture straightened. He cursed under his breath as the transformation completed. "This isn't over yet. We still have one more option."

"What's that?" Crabbe asked, not entirely hopeful after their string of failures.

"We grab him," Goyle said simply. "No more games. No more tricks. We take him somewhere quiet, make him hold the wand, and see what happens. If he’s a wizard, he’ll show it, and if he’s not… well, we’ll deal with that when the time comes."

Crabbe considered this for a moment before nodding in agreement. "Fine. But we do it tonight. I'm sick of this wild goose chase."

They waited for James outside his usual bar. It wasn’t long before he stumbled out, drunk as usual. This time, they were prepared. They followed him silently, staying just far enough behind so as not to be noticed. James, oblivious to their presence, weaved through the streets, humming a tune to himself as he went.

As he rounded a corner into a dimly lit alley, Crabbe and Goyle seized their opportunity. They lunged at him, Crabbe grabbing James’s arms while Goyle tried to force the wand into his hand.

"Get off me!" James slurred, struggling weakly in Crabbe's grip. "What the hell do you want?"

"Just hold the damn wand!" Goyle snapped, pushing the wooden stick towards him.

But James, in his drunken state, was more focused on freeing himself from Crabbe's grasp. He kicked out wildly, managing to catch Crabbe in the shin. With a yelp of pain, Crabbe loosened his grip just enough for James to twist free.

"What’s this?" James muttered, bending down to pick up the wand that had fallen during the scuffle. He turned it over in his hands, squinting at it in the dim light. "Some kind of stick? You blokes fighting over a bloody stick?"

And then, to Crabbe and Goyle's utter astonishment, James simply tossed the wand back at them. The wooden stick bounced off Goyle’s chest and clattered to the ground at their feet.

"Keep your stupid stick!" James called out as he staggered away, disappearing into the night.

Crabbe and Goyle stood there, stunned into silence. The wand lay between them, a symbol of their complete and utter failure. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the distant noise of the city—a car horn, a shout, the hum of traffic.

Finally, Crabbe broke the silence. "He didn’t even care."

Goyle, still staring at the wand on the ground, shook his head slowly. "No. He didn’t. Either he’s the best actor in the world, or…"

"Or he’s just a bloody Muggle," Crabbe finished, his voice filled with frustration. "We’ve been chasing a Muggle around for nothing."

Goyle bent down to pick up the wand, holding it carefully in his hands. "It doesn’t make sense, though. How could Zabini be connected to him if he’s just a Muggle?"

Crabbe let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I don’t know, Gregory. But this—" He gestured to the wand. "—this isn’t working. We’re going to need a different approach if we want to get any answers."

Goyle nodded slowly, the weight of their failures settling heavily on his shoulders. "Yeah. But first, we need to regroup. Figure out what our next move is."

With that, they turned and left the alley, the wand once again hidden safely in Goyle's coat pocket. They walked in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. The night had taken an unexpected turn, and now they were left with more questions than answers.

But one thing was certain: they weren't giving up. Not yet. Not until they knew the truth about Blaise Zabini and his connection to the Muggle world.

Crabbe and Goyle were beginning to piece together the puzzle that had haunted them since they first became involved in Blaise Zabini's murder investigation. Their efforts with James Cook had proven fruitless; the man was a Muggle, deeply entrenched in the criminal underworld, but no more than that. Now, their attention was squarely focused on Victoria Williams, the Muggle stage artist who had once been romantically involved with Zabini. The more they observed her, the more their suspicions grew. Perhaps she wasn’t just any Muggle—perhaps she was a witch.

The duo had been following Victoria discreetly for weeks, tracking her every move. Her life appeared remarkably mundane on the surface, filled with rehearsals, performances, and social gatherings. But Crabbe and Goyle weren’t satisfied with surface appearances. They attended one of her stage performances, blending into the audience, and watched her command the stage. She was talented, no doubt about it, but there was something else—a poise, a grace that seemed too perfect. A hidden layer beneath her outward persona.

“We need to be careful this time,” Goyle muttered as they huddled outside the theater after her performance. “We can’t mess this up like we did with James. If she really is a witch, we need to be sure.”

Crabbe nodded in agreement. “We need to catch her off guard. Get her in a situation where she has to reveal herself.”

The plan they hatched was simple, yet carefully thought out. Crabbe would call Victoria, under the pretense of updating her on the investigation into Blaise’s murder. He would tell her that James Cook had been cleared of suspicion and that they had uncovered new evidence that required her input. The idea was to lure her into a location where they could test her reaction to the wand Ollivander had given them, away from the prying eyes of Muggles.

Crabbe made the call on a Friday afternoon, arranging to meet Victoria at the same coffee shop where they had first spoken. It was a familiar place for her, and they hoped she would be more at ease. However, they knew it wasn’t the ideal place for their true intentions, so they planned to move to a more secluded area afterward.

Sunday came, and Crabbe and Goyle arrived at the coffee shop early, taking a table near the back. They watched as Victoria walked in, dressed casually but stylishly, her hair tied back in a loose bun. She smiled as she approached them, but there was a hint of wariness in her eyes.

“Good to see you again,” she greeted them, taking a seat across from the two Aurors. “Any news on the investigation?”

Crabbe nodded, trying to keep his tone neutral. “Yes, actually. We’ve cleared James Cook of any involvement in Blaise’s murder. He wasn’t the one who did it.”

Victoria’s eyes widened slightly, but she maintained her composure. “I see. That’s... good to know, I guess.”

“There’s something else, though,” Goyle interjected. “We’ve come across some new evidence that we need your help with. It’s sensitive, so we’d prefer to discuss it in a more private setting.”

Victoria looked between the two men, her brow furrowing slightly. “What kind of evidence?”

Crabbe leaned in, lowering his voice. “We can’t say too much here. Let’s just say it’s something that could potentially change the course of the investigation.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Victoria nodded. “Alright. Lead the way.”

They left the coffee shop and walked a short distance to a quiet alleyway that ran between two tall buildings. It was secluded enough for their purposes, away from the bustle of the city. Crabbe and Goyle exchanged a brief, knowing glance before they turned to Victoria.

“Thanks for coming with us,” Crabbe said, his tone still measured. “We just need you to take a look at something.”

He reached into his coat and slowly pulled out the wand that Ollivander had given them. It was a plain-looking wand, unremarkable to the untrained eye, but its true nature was known only to a few. Crabbe held it out in front of Victoria, watching her reaction closely.

To their surprise, her eyes widened with a mixture of shock and recognition. She quickly masked her expression, but it was too late—the damage was done. Crabbe had seen the flicker of familiarity in her gaze, the telltale sign that she knew exactly what she was looking at.

“You recognize this, don’t you, Victoria?” Crabbe asked, his voice sharp.Victoria hesitated for a moment before shaking her head.

“No, I don’t. What is it? Some kind of... stick?”

Crabbe’s gaze remained fixed on her, his expression stern. “We know that you recognize this stick, Victoria. Don’t deny it. Tell me all you know, and it will be the last time we see each other. Otherwise, we’ll have to take you into custody and question you further. And you don’t want that,” Goyle threatened, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Victoria's face paled as she glanced at the wand that lay on the table. Her eyes widened, betraying a mix of surprise and fear. She swallowed hard before speaking, her voice trembling slightly. “I—I do recognize it. Blaise had something similar. He mentioned it once, but I didn’t think it was important. I didn’t know much about the stick.”

Crabbe leaned in, his voice low and commanding. “Tell us everything you know!”