Yo! Today I bring to you HP WIP number 18. Sorry. A couple of my favourite genres to read and write are the mystery/suspense ones. Unfortunately, HP isn't the type of fandom that tends to fit that genre the best way. I'm sure there are plenty of good fics of the genres, but none of them are really my cup of tea. So I decided on the next best thing and started writing my own. The idea actually just popped into my head randomly, but I really like it, so I ran with it. So far, I'm enjoying it immensely. I don't, however, have everything planned out yet, though that's not particularly new or anything, though I do know who the killer is already, so that's good at least. Or as good as it can be considering I haven't thought of a motive yet.

Warnings: Slash, a threesome couple in the form of (Ron/Hermione/Draco), mentions of past abuse of Harry via the Dursleys. Takes place a few years after the epilogue, and most of what happened does follow canon, save for a few exceptions (Some people are alive, some of the couples have changed (Bill/Harry, the three mentioned above, Ginny/Blaise, Remus either single or with someone I haven't decided), some of them might have different jobs, or have their canon job, but have it earlier than in canon-you'll see what I mean in this first chapter). I'm also taking liberties on how Aurors and the DMLE and whatnot and their laws and so on work. I don't think any of the changes should really impact anyone who isn't a canon purist (except for the pairings), but I'll be sure to let you know if anything else changes later on. I'm only saying it because I know people are going to start flaming me, and I want proof of having warned you people about this. I'm open to suggestions/ideas/advice, but please understand that I'm under no liberty to actually use what you say if I don't like/agree/understand it. Sorry about the long AN! Won't happen again!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters...

It had been a long time since he had last been here. So long, and yet, not nearly long enough. It wasn't long enough because he had hoped to never, ever return here for as long as he lived. But here he was, not for a social call-there was no one here to greet him anyway, but rather, for work.

Harry was in Privet Drive as an Auror, because the Dursleys had been murdered by a wizard. Or so he had been told.

It was the Minister of Magic who had told him about it. The Minister (Kingsley) himself didn't normally give the Aurors their cases-those went through the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement (Hermione), before being passed to the Head Auror (Harry), who then delegated the cases to the Aurors working under him (like Ron). But today, it was Kingsley himself who had gone to Harry directly, giving him the case.

Aurors didn't normally get to work cases that were personal to them in any way, because it caused conflicts of interest, but this...this was different, and Kingsley knew that. If there was any backlash, they would deal with it later, but right now this situation was far too important to ignore or let someone else handle...

Privet Drive looked exactly the same as Harry remembered it. In fact, if it weren't for a few new cars sitting in the drives, Harry would have thought time hadn't even passed here over the past handful of years.

The houses looked the same. The trees looked the same. The flowers looked the same. The grass looked the same. The fences looked the same. Everything was as immaculate as always.

In silence, Harry entered Number Four, dispersing and then recasting the magical barrier placed on the door to prevent anyone else (magical or Muggle) from getting in. This was his case, and he would be handling it alone, unless he asked for help.

Everything in here looked the same too. Really, if it wasn't for the thick, lingering scent of death, Harry would never have been able to tell there was something wrong in the house.

The first body was in the sitting room. Harry stared down at the remains of the uncle who had made his life a living hell for sixteen years. The uncle who would never move, or yell, or breathe again.

Vernon Dursley was slumped on the couch in front of the (new) television, a nearly full mug of tea and a plate of his favourite biscuits sitting on the table at his side. Unless his personal schedule had changed over the years, which was unlikely, he'd probably been watching the evening news when he'd died. Which meant he had died eighteen hours ago, at the latest, seeing as it was noon now, and today's evening news wasn't due to be broadcast for another six hours.

There was no blood to be seen, Harry noted. Other body fluids, yes, those were normal after death, but there was no blood. Frowning, he examined the body...his uncle, a bit closer. He couldn't see any external injuries at all. There were no visible signs of poison either, though it wasn't something that could be ruled out entirely just yet.

Pulling out his wand, Harry cast a diagnostic charm. It was basically the same spell medi-wizards used on their patients, only this one was specifically meant to be used on the dead. Even the incantation was the same. It was only the wand movements that showed the difference, though it was just a difference of twitching your wand at the end rather than flicking it, (it had taken Ron ages to get it right).

"...The Killing curse?" Harry murmured to himself, a bit surprised. Whatever he had been expecting, it certainly hadn't been that.

With his uncle's cause of death now known to him, Harry moved on. He found Aunt Petunia in the kitchen. Judging by the pot of sauce on the stove and the chopped vegetables on the cutting board on the counter, she'd been in the middle of preparing dinner. ...Did she cook now because she enjoyed it, or because she had no choice since Harry wasn't around to do it anymore?

Petunia Dursley was sprawled out on the floor, no doubt having fallen dead there. Just like with her husband, there were no signs of any external injuries or poisons. She'd been killed the same way as him too, Harry confirmed a moment later.

Leaving the kitchen, Harry made his way upstairs and opened the door to his cousin's bedroom, the room he'd only ever been allowed to enter if he was cleaning it. Dudley Dursley was in a similar position as his parents. He'd been using his (new) computer when he'd died, no doubt waiting for his mother to finish making dinner. Just like his parents, he too had been hit with the Killing curse, and had no other injuries or obvious signs of, well, problems.

With a deep frown on his face, Harry decided the next step would be to explore the house-just to see if there was anything out of place. Though a few years had passed since he had last been here, he didn't expect to see many changes. The Dursleys were a family of habit-especially his aunt and uncle, and people like them didn't change things very often.

Despite being a grown man nearing his mid twenties, Dudley was not only still living with parents (which wasn't the end of the world), but kept his bedroom as messy as always.

There were new electronics and clothing ("Well, that's not surprising."), cash hidden under the mattress ("How original, cousin."), an almost empty carton of a cheap brand of cigarettes in a jacket pocket ("So he was still smoking, huh? Wonder if Aunt Petunia ever found out.") and a small picture of a very attractive woman Harry vaguely recognized as a Muggle bikini model who'd been quite popular when they'd been teenagers ("Really, Dudders?"). Finding no clues, Harry moved on.

His aunt and uncle's bedroom looked exactly the same as before, and had nothing interesting to tell him. The guest bedroom smelled a bit like wet dog, signalling that Aunt Marge had probably been over until recently, but had nothing to tell him beyond that. And Dudley's second bedroom...

The locks and pet door were gone, and in fact, the entire door looked to have been replaced. Back when they'd been about fourteen, Dudley had, at one point, carved his initials into the door to signify that it was still his room, even though Harry was using it. Those initials were gone, which told Harry that this was definitely a new door.

The room was...a mess, to say the least. It looked like Dudley had taken it over as his second bedroom again the moment Harry had left when they'd been seventeen. There was just junk everywhere. Junk and dust. It didn't look like anything in this room had been touched in months, if not years.

Checking the bathroom on his way, Harry made his way back downstairs, before pausing in front of the cupboard under the stairs. Despite the fact that he hadn't been locked in there for years, and certainly couldn't ever be locked in it again, Harry actually had to steel himself before he was able to open the door.

Squatting down, Harry stared inside the cupboard. "Merlin," he muttered, "I can't believe I used to sleep in here. It's so...tiny." He wasn't exceptionally tall by any means, but he certainly wasn't anywhere near the size of his childhood self either. But this was just...it was hard to believe he had been able to fit inside there for literal years.

It was being used as a storage space now, as it always should have been, but Harry didn't see anything particularly out of place. The rest of the house, the backyard included, was no different.

Whoever had killed the Dursleys hadn't left any physical clues, and he was sure even Muggle police would have trouble finding anything, seeing as the Dursleys looked to have just been hit with Killing curse wherever they'd been sitting or standing. There were no signs of forced entry or a struggle either, meaning the killer had probably gotten in using the unlocking charm, and caught the Dursleys off guard. They also seemed to have killed them quickly, because it didn't seem like Aunt Petunia had been alerted by Uncle Vernon's death, or Dudley by the deaths of either of his parents. Harry figured the killer had been in and out in barely five minutes at the very least, and certainly no longer than ten.

But no physical evidence didn't mean no evidence at all. It was possible that the killer had left something behind. Something most wizards didn't even know about, let alone actively thought about.

A magical signature.

Every wizard and witch had their own magical signature. It was basically like a fingerprint. No two people could have the same signature, even if they were twins (twins would have similar signatures due to their genetics, but it wouldn't be identical). And a magical signature was always left behind when a wizard would cast a spell, no matter what spell it was. There was a way to mask a signature and, essentially, erase it from an area after casting spells, but that wasn't a well known spell at all, and was used very rarely.

Standing in the sitting room, Harry cast a spell used to detect these magical signatures. It was a complex spell that used rather intricate wand work, but he had since gotten used to using it.

He detected three different signatures.

The freshest signature was his own, which didn't surprise him. The second one, that was slightly older than his, was Kingsley's. That didn't surprise him either. Kingsley had already told him he had been here to confirm the situation himself (not to mention turn the TV and stove off and cast a house wide stasis charm to prevent decay), before assigning the case to Harry. The third signature, however, was one that caught Harry off guard.

It was older than his and Kingsley's by some hours, but it was one Harry recognized. One that had no business of being in Privet Drive in general, let alone inside Number Four. And yet, here it was, as clear as a crisp, spring morning.

The third and final signature belonged to none other than Bill Weasley.

That's it for now. Looking forward to reviews! Laterz!