Find the Horcruxes (crack/au)

Chicago, 1926. A new day dawns, new lives begin, and a story ends. I hope you've all enjoyed it as much as I have.

( Even if it wasn't enough, it was a start. Sometimes a start was all anybody needed. )

Chicago, 1926. The sun has gone down, but the day's not done yet. As another hot summer night settles on the city, the smell of dust and sweat and lake water fills a warehouse by the docks. This place is the battleground, the home of a last stand.

Preparing to make that stand is Sturgis Podmore, Private Investigator. When we last left our detective, he had just watched Meredith Watkins successfully drop her fiance. Now he's on his way in to find out what's happening to the rest of the players.

( The place was huge, dusty, with half the lights in it burned out. It obviously hadn't been in use for a while - ideal for a massive operation somebody wanted to keep quiet. )

Chicago, 1926. The sun is coming down on another day in the dirty, gritty town that is the center of American industry. Time is running out, not only on this day, but on last chances for a whole lot of people.

Among these is Sturgis Podmore, Private Investigator. When he took Celeste Lestrange's money, he didn't have a clue what he was getting into. By the time he did know, it was too late; he never had been willing to give up once he took on a case. Up to his eyebrows in danger and intrigue, there's no telling now whether he'll keep his head above water or not.

When we last left our detective he had just gotten information (and pancakes), handed off Betty Braithwaite's pilfered file for decoding, and promptly discovered that both Chloe Wilkes and Meredith Watkins were nowhere to be found. Now...a little more on that.

( Neither Snape nor Celeste had a clue where she was gone, and every minute Podmore spent not finding her was time that he needed for other things, like keeping her alive. )

The buildings loom tall and gray, making and covering the city of Chicago. The year is 1926, and nowhere do the twenties roar so loudly as here in the Windy City. They say the name comes not from the icy gusts that race around every corner in the winter, but rather from the hot air blowing out of all the local politicians.

Down in the gutters, it doesn't really matter. Everybody's just trying to scrape by, and who's in charge doesn't amount to a hill of beans when it comes to making a difference. That doesn't stop a precious few from trying to make a difference anyway, though, and among these is Sturgis Podmore, Private Investigator.

When we last left the detective, he was heading out to drink off the loss of an old friend. Now the light's coming through the window with a vengeance, and like every sunrise, it's bringing us closer to another sunset.

( The white pawn was key to the king. Keep her safe, and that was game. But there was something in his way, one more piece in the path. )

It's still summer in Chicago, but after nightfall it cools off a little. The wind blows off the water, and while it carries a hell of a smell, at least it's a breeze.

In some places, however, it's just heating up. Sturgis Podmore, Private Investigator, is still on the trail of a web of intrigue and murder that unravels a little more with every passing day. When we last left the detective he'd just finished getting Chloe Wilkes in to visit Regulus Black at the Cook County Jail (with some assistance from Officer Snape at the front desk) and was on his way to ask a few questions of one Miss Betty Braithwaite, muckraker extraordinaire. She had a gentleman opening the door for her, however...and now, we discover why.

( Came by to ask her some questions. She knows some people on a case I'm working. She's a friend. Knew she'd be up late, so I dropped in. )

Chicago, 1926. The twentieth century struck this city with a vengeance, bringing the whirl of the cars and factories, the mob and the hookers, the cops and the lawyers, the smoke and the speed. Prohibition didn't slow it down - if anything, telling Chicago "no" just made it shout "Yes, yes, yes!" even louder. It rolled over and showed its underbelly, and it thrived.

There's one man who's determined to get some of the fleas out, though, and it's Sturgis Podmore, Private Investigator. An honest man in a town full of crooks, a good cop who thinks he's a bad cop, he took Celeste Lestrange's money with every expectation that he wouldn't find a damn thing. Now the more he finds, the less he likes...but justice hasn't got much of anyone else on her side these days.

When we last left our detective he'd finally managed to shake some answers from Detective Pete Pettigrew (with a little help from department secretary Alex Savage) and ran into ace reporter Betty Braithwaite on her way out of a little conversation with banker Patrice Nott. Now, time to have a look in on Bones and Moody's investigation, and pay a visit back to 738 Burrow Street.

( Podmore was well aware that he was paranoid. He was fine with being paranoid. Being paranoid kept people on their feet and off the coroner's slab. )

Chicago, 1926.

The heatwave that grips the city still hasn't let go, and neither have the competing forces of the PD and the Mob. It's tough for an ordinary Joe around here, and that's made awfully clear in the way they seem to keep turning up dead. A few forces for good remain, though, and one of them is Sturgis Podmore, Private Investigator.

When we last left our detective (quite some time ago, I know) he was just coming off a nasty gunshot wound sustained in a raid on the local Southside speakeasy known as the Hogshead. He rattled his ever-capable secretary, and he even managed to make a major break in the case. In today's special two part episode he pushes forward with a little help from his friends, and goes tracking down Detective Peter Pettigrew of the Chicago Police Department...and with a little bit of luck, he just might get somewhere.

* * *
Part 18
( You're lucky I didn't just shoot your feet out from under ya and slow you down that way. )


Part 19
( I thought you and money weren't on speaking terms! What brings you to this institution of it? )

Chicago, 1926. In the streets of the South side, the heat seems to weigh everybody down. Can't catch a breeze, can't catch a break...if not for the fire hydrant they opened up on the corner it'd be hell on earth. It's a place that clings tightly to its own, and Sturgis Podmore, Private Investigator, is no exception.

When we last left the detective he was trying to find a place to stash that stubborn Chloe Wilkes. Burrow Street's almost just one more lane in the maze of alleys filled with tenements and row houses, but it's got some good people...and that's why he's going there for help.

( The whole house was a whirlwind of activity, but Molly was the eye of the storm, the calm center of everything. )

Chicago, 1926. A vicious August heatwave holds the city in its grip, but the denizens of the town are used to being oppressed from every direction. If it's not the crooked cops it's the Mob, and if it's not them it's City Hall. Good thing there's short skirts, bathtub gin, and jazz in joints like the Hogshead to make it all bearable. That is, until the police raid the joint again.

When we last left the detective, he'd just woken up in the last place he wanted to be (his ex-wife's new house), with the last person he wanted to see (his ex-wife and her teenage sidekick), in the last circumstances he wanted to be in (shot). As we rejoin him, he is finally moving on...

( Two days wasn't really enough recovery time for a gunshot wound that hadn't even gone to an actual doctor, but Sturgis Podmore was tough enough to bear up under the pain, and he had things to do. )

Chicago, 1926. The city's a dangerous place, no matter who you are. Shadows lurk in every corner, up against every wall, and to turn your back on them is to invite trouble - where, then, can anyone turn?

Celeste Lestrange turned to Sturgis Podmore, Private Investigator. When we last left the detective he'd just taken a bullet down at the seedy speakeasy known as the Hogshead. Someone was trying to give him a hand...but who? And where will he end up when he opens his eyes...if he opens them.

( With a roar of pain, everything went once more black and quiet, and he found himself again on the chessboard streets of the city. )

Long time no see, cats. I know it's been a while, but if you listen hard you can hear the soft tones of a King Oliver record straining through a Victrola in a fourth-floor walkup apartment, and maybe the crash of an illegal beer bottle falling into a bin full of others.

That would be because after a long break, we return to Chicago, 1926. The city is a battleground where crooked cops bounce back and forth between the rival Mafia powers of Black and Lestrange and Mayor Tom Riddle looms over them all - and somewhere down below, the few good people left try to topple the machine from underneath.

Currently the one of those with the best chance of tipping the balance of power is Sturgis Podmore, Private Investigator. When we last left the detective, he had just returned from a trip to Indiana to bring some evidence to Agent Edgar Bones of the FBI. Now he's heading back to everyone's favorite illegal speakeasy to have a chat with Mr. Sirius Black, so let's have a look...

( Smoky blues and hot jazz, cool light and dark shadows, flappers and mobsters and cops and criminals...another night in the Hogshead, and the band was running a lot better than they had been on his last trip here. )

Chicago, 1926. A hotbed of intrigue, murder, and mayhem. Smoke curls through the air, shadows stalk the streets, and almost no one is what they seem. No one, that is, except Sturgis Podmore, Private Investigator.

The detective has returned, armed with evidence. When we last saw the detective Celeste Lestrange had once more swept in and out of his life after an all-night drive back from the wilds of Hogsmeade, Indiana. Now, we join him once again.

( He needed to call Lacey. Usually he called her on Fridays, but it'd been a rough week. He could do with hearing his little girl's voice, given how many of other people's little girls seemed to be in trouble lately. )

For some people, even blue skies and green fields seem suspicious. Sturgis Podmore, Private Investigator, is among these. He's suspicious of everything, and in Chicago, 1926, suspicion is almost never out of place. So little is what it seems, and the few true things in this world are often yanked swiftly away.

When we last saw the detective, he was listening to Greta Fenwick tell the painful story of the loss of her husband and her escape from the city. Now he's on his way back to town to get the ball rolling again, and maybe find a few more answers.

( I've got a story he needs to hear, a note that's gotta be dusted for prints, and a big mess at the bank that's very, very convenient in that it makes this a Federal affair. )

Chicago, 1926...or rather, Hogsmeade, Indiana. This is the land that time forgot, far away from the flappers and gangsters and coppers and crooks of the big city. Here the fields run gold and green and mules still pull more plows than tractors do.

Singularly out of place in this land is one Sturgis Podmore, Private Investigator. When we last saw the detective he'd narrowly escaped having his brains blown out for the second time in as many days. Now, with apologies for interruption caused by the writer's cold, we will see if his luck holds...and find out just why Benjamin Fenwick met his end much too young.


( Think you'd like to tell us your name now, or didn't anybody teach you any manners up there in the big city? )

South of Chicago, the air clears and the sun shines. Shadows dissipate, light softens, and the tall, forbidding buildings are replaced with fields and pasture. In 1926, this is a land far removed from the gangsters and politicians that keep court in the city.

That's where Sturgis Podmore, Private Investigator, is bound for today. When we last saw the detective he was diving for cover from the fire of a tommy gun. Today, the world is more peaceful...so far, anyway.

( He distrusted so much open land and air, and it wasn't just because he'd had to dive for cover just the night before. )

Welcome back to the Windy City, locked in a heatwave and a never-ending struggle for power. The politicians have dinner with the gangsters, the cops are the real criminals, and sometimes the ones they call criminals are your only friends.

One of the few honest men left in that world is Sturgis Podmore, Private Investigator. When we last saw the detective he was on his way out of the Cook County Jail, having had a talk with accused murderer Regulus Black and caught sight of his worst enemy: notoriously crooked cop Dylan Selwyn.

But every day falls to night, and this night finds the detective once more in his office. As usual, he's got a lot to think about...

( Night fell faster on the South Side, or at least it felt that way. )

In Chicago, 1926, everybody's got something to hide. They all have secrets, buried in gardens and stowed in basements and sometimes sent to the morgue. Regulus Black stumbled into some of those secrets, and now he's sitting in the Cook County Jail. Given that Benjy Fenwick did the same and got a closed-casket funeral for his trouble, Black should probably count himself lucky.

One man who's learned that indeed you may count no man lucky until he is dead is detective for hire Sturgis Podmore. When we last saw the detective he was at the notorious South Side speakeasy known as the Hogshead, looking for information. Now, let us rejoin him on the case...

( He had wanted to punish the guilty and protect the innocent. He wanted to find out the truth and stand up to speak in court for the people who couldn't speak for themselves. Now, after two years of barely making rent or making a difference, Podmore had a chance to do it. )

Chicago, 1926. The time of Irving Berlin and the Algonquin Round Table, gin joints and flappers, gangsters and molls. Everybody knows the band at the Hogshead is the cat's pajamas - or at least it was, 'til their singer got iced. Now they've got a new one, and she's having a chat with Sturgis Podmore, Private Investigator.

When we last saw the detective the conversation had just begun over gin and cigarettes. Now, we'll see where it goes.

( You think all dames're crazy, or just the ones I run into? )

Summer, 1926. Clouds form over the lake and move in on Chicago, turning a hot day into a muggy night, and once more we follow the progress of Sturgis Podmore, Private Investigator, as he digs deeper into an increasingly connected web of cover-ups, lies, and murder.

Welcome to the Hogshead, where the smoke turns the dim light blue as the notes from the piano. When we last saw the detective he was having a chat with his old friend Gawain Robards, of the CPD. Tonight, his story continues.

( The only thing I can say with any certainty is that there were definite irregularities in the way that case was handled. )

In Chicago, 1926, Prohibition is on, driving the sale of alcohol into illegal speakeasies hidden in little nooks and crannies all over town. Despite the lousy part of town it's in, old Abe Dumbledore's is a favorite thanks to its hot band, cheap drinks, and bartender who's the best listener in the city. Whether you're a flapper looking to flirt or just an old drunk looking for solace in the bottom of a glass, the Hogshead's the place to be.

When we last left our detective, he had a date there at 8. But first, he's got some other business to attend to.

( The way of the world, Podmore figured. It was all a big damn assembly line motor, with every part replaceable in a moment's notice. )