*** at the Hog's Head

After a while, we pulled into the parking lot of the warehouse. Ron was hyperventilating.

"We're going to die, we're going to die, we're going to die," he was mumbling under his breath. I swore I could see him rocking back and forth. I hit him on the back of his head and he yelled.

"Stop it, you turd. We're not going to die. Holster your weapon," I ordered. For once in his life he listened. We got out of the car and crept into the building the back way.

"Boss, I'm telling you the truth, the kid, he didn't leave anything! No money, no payments, no goods, nothing! He wasn't our guy! We managed to plant a few things on him so the boss would think he was involved with something, but it wasn't Jack! It was that rugby kid!"

I gestured at Ron to come closer. He did, looking like he was getting ready to piss his pants, but, like the trooper he is, he didn't. We looked over the edge into a low set concrete room. There was a table with a pile of white powder, a scale, a woman with incredibly frizzy hair who looked like she was going mad, a with long, white blonde hair, and sitting on a chair right dab in the middle of them was our guy.

"Malfoy," the Tom Riddle rasped. "There's no room for mistakes in my operation. Are you saying you killed the wrong guy? That in fact, the man that you dispatched at the Hog's Head was in fact, not our seller, but a civilian? A famous civilian?"

The man with the white blonde hair was cowering in front of him. His shirt sleeve was pulled up and I saw the snake and skull symbol that everyone in Voldemort's gang got.

"Boss, I'm telling you, it was a mistake! Jack always bragged about looking like that Cedric Diggory guy, you know? It was a case of mistaken identity," he said, his voice clearer.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes.

"I told you. No mistakes. Bella, hand me that knife, would you?"

Two more men stepped out of the shadows and grabbed Malfoy's arms. He started screaming and thrashing about.

"No, no, no, no, please, no, don't!" he was screaming. The woman with the frizzy hair pulled a large bowie knife out of her coat pocket and brought it over to Riddle. Voldemort thanked her, and, ignoring the man's pleas, sliced the tattoo right off of the man's arm, like the skin off a fish. I cringed, and Ron went white.

We could hear the man's wails as he was carted out, and the frizzy haired woman started laughing.

Voldemort glanced over at her.

"Keep packing it up, Bella. We're not done here yet."

It was at that exact moment that all hell broke loose. Ron was motioning wildly to the door when the room was filled with the dulcet tones of techno music.

"What is love? Baby don't hurt me! Don't hurt me... no more! What is love?"

Ron gasped and started fumbling for his phone, trying to turn it off.

It was too late. Voldemort was on his feet, his gun in his hands.

"Who's there?!" He demanded. "Show yourself! I'll kill you like a dog on the street! No one comes in here without my permission!"

Ron looked at me, quivering. I shook my head.

"I hope you know how to use that thing, Ron," I said, pointing at his gun.

"Oh, screw you too," he moaned.

"I hear you!" Voldemort called. "I hear you at the top! I'm coming up there!"

I stood up, aiming my gun at his forehead. Mr. Olivander had sold me a new, top of the line model. Laser scope. There was a dot of green light on his bald head. He stopped.

"Who the hell are you?" he roared, pointing his own gun back at me.

Same as mine. Except it had a red laser.

"Just perfect," I muttered.

"What the hell did you say?!" Voldemort roared.

"Nothing, nothing. Oh, well, stay where you are or I'll shoot!" I lied. "The... uh, the police are on their way!"

Tom Riddle looked at the woman with frizzy hair, who started to laugh. Soon they were both laughing.

"Uh, mind letting me in on the joke?" I said.

"You? You're gonna cart me off to jail?" Tom Riddle laughed. "Take me away, runt, I'm all yours!"

They were in hysterics. I cocked my gun.

"I'm not kidding!" I called down. "I'll shoot! And... and... I'm in the higher position! Advantage! Right here!"

I thought I heard Ron crying. But he hopped up and pointed his gun down at the woman.

"Yeah!" he cried. "We're here, we know what you've done, and you need put the weapon down and your hands in the air!"

For a moment I was stunned.

"Nice," I muttered. Ron rolled his eyes.

"I watch cop shows too, you know."

"I'm impressed."

"You think you can come here, to my house, and try to intimidate me?" Voldemort roared. "You got another thing coming if you think I'm just gonna let you point your gun at me. You put it down."

"Uh, no!" I cried. "The police are here! They're waiting outside! They-"

"This is the police! We have the area surrounded! Come out with your hands up!"

Tom Riddle, gangster to beat all gangsters, the killer of many a fine innocent soul, stared up at us, transfixed.

"Who are you?"

"Harry Potter, private eye," I drawled.

"And Ron Weasley! Assistant and best friend!"

Before I could roll my eyes the police had busted down the door. Voldemort and Bella were on the floor.

And so were we.

"You're under arrest for the trafficking of drugs and aiding and abetting a known criminal," the policeman said, cuffing us both.

"But, but, there's been a mistake!" Ron cried.

"Yeah, yeah. Tell it to the judge, buddy."

Ron looked at me evilly.

"I'm never speaking to you again."

First case? Ruined.