Twin Vice Chapt 28 Excerpt

On Passing Hallows</u>

14th March, 2004

It was on that day, twenty-four hours after the meeting in the Entrees des Catacombes, when the people of London began to feel a change in the city.

It began with the bodies on the Thames. Almost at the same time Fred Weasley and Detective Nox left for the House of Sometimes Intolerance, did a group of Muggle children sight the first body as it floated face-down onto the shore close to the Houses of Parliament.

Four bodies were discovered in the end. What troubled the authorities so was the victims, Hannah Heddleston, Gerald Griffiths, Simon Sedgwick and Rosaline Roberts, had been complete strangers in life. Moreover, only one hailed from London. The other three lived far, far from the city: Mrs Roberts had been a school teacher and mother of three in a small town in the Scottish Highlands. Miss Heddleston, the youngest of the four at only sixteen, was traced back to Newport in Wales and the last, Gerald Griffiths, had been a contractor from Godric's Hollow in Cornwall.

Authorities were bewildered. The only obvious factor the four people had in common was the very nature of their deaths. Black bruises darkened their ankles, arms and necks as if many clawed fingers had dragged them down into watery graves. Worse, their pale flesh was punctured with teeth marks too big to be work of little fishes. Stories quickly flew around the city, but it was not long before talk of the four bodies on the Thames was replaced by an even stranger occurrence.

Between Tottenham Court Road and Holborn on the Central Line, a train disappeared without trace. The Central Line was shut down at once and teams of engineers and Underground officials crept into the old tunnels to investigate, but it was as if the very darkness had swallowed the train up, snuffing it out like a candle flame. The teams of investigators quickly became uneasy in the vaulted tunnels, jostling each other in tones that were only half-joking, "Betcha it disappeared at the old British Museum station. Haunted station, that is, an' make no mistake."

While Muggle authorities were still scratching their heads at the missing train and its passengers, the 'Friends of Highgate Cemetery' were standing in Swain's Lane puzzling over the gate to the old graveyard which, despite all their efforts, remained stubbornly locked. At length they each agreed that the old iron gate had simply frozen over in the cold and that they would try again tomorrow, but as they turned to leave through Waterlow Park a chill silence fell over them; nobody truly believed the gate to be frozen. They would not be returning tomorrow.

The last sign came without warning and from nowhere. Nobody was quite sure when it appeared, though the policeman on duty swore blindly that it had not been there before midday. But sure as day it was there now. Above the North entrance of Westminster Abbey, scrawled in enormous bone-white letters, were the words:

'Lundoners – remember the old Enemy. Leave the city while you can.'

And as the crowd around Westminster Abbey grew it began to snow.

---

The House of Sometimes Intolerance seemed to give them an appraising look, glaring down through vaulted gables and shuttered windows strung with icicles that glittered like swords. The house had the look of someone who had once known the finer things in life and was not shy to boast of it, but now resembled a man in a deflated top hat clinging to the last vestiges of his status.

The main entrance shuddered to life and a large door studded with crooked iron nails opened to reveal a bulky figure silhouetted against the lanterns that lit the inner corridors. Nox grimaced; her grandmother had been the source of many a nightmare during her childhood. While it had been many years since Nox had been any sort of child (for it was commonly agreed that she had been born old), she felt a familiar shudder of fear creeping down her spine now that she was standing beneath that vast, crinkly bulk and stony grey eyes once more.

Lady Elphuna Chatterly glowered like a wax-work come to life. She was a bizarre sight to behold, her huge bulk more than adequately filling the golden, lion-footed chair that held her aloft. The old witch had a crinkly edge to her that was most unnatural and a nose that could make a crow's beak look not so beaky. The hands that fiercely gripped the arms of the golden chair were as gnarled as old tree roots. Her liver spots were caked under several layers of white concealing-powder and the generous coats of blood-red lipstick she wore made each wrinkle on her lips appear as deep as a crevasse. Her enormous veined bosom was bursting at the seams of the purple corset she boasted (Fred secretly wondered if it were the only thing holding the old witch together). But it was her left eye that drew most attention – particularly the curious ticking it made. The witch's left eye was fashioned from the inner workings of a pocket watch, but Fred and Nox had the unsettling feeling it could see them with perfect clarity.

The wax work witch stretched her alarmingly long neck towards Fred, peering suspiciously. He flinched with repulsion as the movement caused another stitch to come loose on the tight corset.

"Hullo Gran," said Nox, in a world weary voice. "You look…different."