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Le Rasoir National

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Percy breathed deeply, trying to focus on anything but the…scene in front of him.

“If you’re going to be sick, leave my laboratory.” The consultant said without looking up. She was closely examining the stump of a neck that used to hold a head.

“I’m fine,” Percy said and mopped his brow.

That earned him a single, dark, raised eyebrow. “Fascinating,” she murmured and used her gloved finger to poke around further.

Percy felt his gorge rise again at the squelching sounds that were emanating from the consultant’s examination.

“Did you find something?” Percy asked. He’d been tasked with being the Ministry’s liaison to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement on this case. Normally, one of the junior staffers would have been assigned, instead of someone with Percy’s seniority, but as his boss, Miss Pennywhistle, had emphasized, this was an extremely delicate case. That was why Dr. Addams was called in. She specialized in the macabre and bizarre, even if she was a muggle. Or a squib. Percy wasn’t exactly sure, and it would have been extremely rude to ask.

“She’s a squib, I reckon,” Ron had said last time they met up for lunch. “Mentioned something once about a great-aunt or someone who was burned at the stake.”

Dr. Addams looked up, her extremely pale face wreathed in a smile that sent cold chills down Percy’s spine. “Have you ever seen a guillotine in action?”