Chapter 2: Number Four

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The man smiled to himself. Harry Potter was dead. The man had heard that Lily Potter had a sister named Dursley. His informant told him (a ministry official, after being given a rather large amount of Veritaserum) that Harry Potter lived with his aunt and uncle had taken them in and were raising them at the address 'Number Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.' He was most pleased by the answer and chose to simply Obliviate the official after the information proved to be true.

The man had been overjoyed to find the three of them that morning, although he had thought that The-Boy-Who-Lived had black hair, not blonde, but the press must have gotten something wrong after only hearing about him. He hardly went to any interviews, after all. The man could finally live the rest of his life in peace. Even if people like him could no longer show their faces in public anymore (especially around Aurors), but he now knew that he had avenged his Master. All of the Potters, and now the two Dursleys, were dead, and that was enough.

The Death Eater was never seen again. He soon smuggled himself out of the country, and into America. Where he lived the rest of his days in the middle of a forest in Maine, avoiding all wizarding and muggle contacts. Using the rest of his gold to make himself comfortable, before sinking into the shadows. For what did he have to fear? Harry Potter was dead, and soon the whole world would know of what he did. They'd never track it back to him, and those fools might not even find out until the Boy-Who-No-Longer-Lived never went to Hogwarts.

Sherlock stepped out of the taxi and onto the pavement and looked around, his piercing gaze penetrating all around him, as he payed the driver whom immediately left. All of the houses looked exactly the same, and if it weren't for the street names and house numbers, he could have gotten lost (Ha! Sherlock Holmes getting lost!). They all had the picturesque of the perfect house, with perfect flower beds, and perfect picket fence, and the same black or grey car in every driveway- it disgusted him.

Turning to the left, he saw the house he was to look at: Number Four. There was police tape tied to each end of the yard, connecting the fences on either end of the house. A brand new officer was at the line, with Lestrade. She had dark hair and skin, and she had just gotten out of her training. Second day on the job, if he was correct. She gave him an incredulous look as Lestrade beckoned him to follow him into the empty house. The inside was pristine and well kept. Though, the strange thing was that it was cleanest at around three feet high, a very strange thing to happen in a house- who would spend their time scrubbing a wall? He dismissed the thought as he entered the dining room.

As Lestrade had said during his visit, the family of three were sitting slumped in their seats, with a look of mild shock on their faces. The weird thing was that they were all in their night clothes (did they get up early, or did their jobs start late?). The first one was a large man. He had a burly mustache and almost no neck. Well kept suit: job was very important to him; made a lot of money. Newspaper on table: the page was on a drilling company competing with another; one of the company's names had a slight food smudge while the other didn't; he worked for Grunnings; likely CEO or something of that manner based on the expensive items all around the house. Only accessories were an old gold watch and his wedding band: watch was old, he'd have gotten a new one with his line of work, so likely sentiment; probably from late father (pictures only included wife son, and a large woman most likely his sister, and two grandparents who share a resemblance with the wife); wedding band- interesting, slightly dirty on the outside, and slightly clean on the inside; began cheating on the wife, most likely with secretary (anyone higher up wouldn't have bothered), but he doesn't have any feelings towards secretary- probably because he knows it's not going anywhere and just wants to get some excitement in his monotonous life. Rough knuckles: hits something on a regular basis; might go to the jym, but not the most likely due to his full-time job; could be abusing wife or son, but neither of them have any physical damage to speak of; most likely has a punching bag of some sort in garage.

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