Disclaimer – We own nothing but the original plot and anything else you may not recognize. Both Harry Potter and Law and Order: SVU belong to their respective owners. Events may not fit in order of a particular season of SVU, so deem it alternate universe.

Warning – May contain subject matter not suitable for certain readers.

Witchcraft and Wizardry: Special Victims Unit

By 'Ponine and Zenn

"In the criminal justice system, sexually based offenses are considered especially heinous. In New York City, the dedicated detectives who investigate these vicious felonies are members of an elite squad known as the Special Victims Unit. These are their stories."

Chapter One

Red Wing Apartments

34th street

3/12/2005 2:58 AM

The music blasting from the speakers pounded through the apartment complex, drowning out the splashing of the indoor pool. A young woman walked through the hallways, dodging party goers and waving at various acquaintances. Suddenly, several cheering people ran by, knocking her against the wall, but she merely burst out laughing as she realized all of them were unclothed.

"Skinny dipping! Come on, Anabelle, join us!" a young male called as he ran past.

She shook her head with a smile and watched as they ran towards the pool, whistling loudly. Anabelle ducked into an open apartment, greeting a couple friends, and making her way to the wet bar.

"Scotch on the rocks," she ordered, keeping a watchful eye on the man fixing her drink.

The bartender smiled flirtatiously as he handed her the glass of liquor. She batted her eyelashes playfully, then turned away, sipping slowly from the drink. The ice clattered in the liquid, and the alcohol burned Anabelle's throat on the way down.

As she scanned the room, she noticed a handsome man flipping through a rack of discs, and tried to catch his eye. When he didn't look up, Anabelle sashayed over to him.

"Hi there," she purred softly. "I'm Anabelle, and I noticed you looking at the Green Day CD. One of my favorites."

As he turned toward her, a predatory grin flashed briefly across his face.

"Hello, Anabelle. You can call me Prince Charming," he answered cheekily.

"Is that so? Well, then, where is your noble steed?" questioned Anabelle, her smile sweet.

"He's in the bedroom. Want a ride?" he asked, the insinuation quite clear.

Anabelle glanced around, then looked back coyly. "Lead the way, your highness."

With a grin, he took her arm and lead her to the back bedroom of the apartment house, which incidentally was the only one not in use at the moment. Once inside, Anabelle took the lead, sliding a hand behind the man's neck and pulling his lips to hers.

Walking haphazardly to the bed, Anabelle sunk into it as the mattress hit her knees. Pulling her soon to be lover with her, they made their way to the middle of bed, clothes coming off rapidly.

As she pulled his shirt off, a large tattoo covering most of his right arm caught the light.

"Oh, nice. Where'd you get that?" Anabelle asked, as he trailed his tongue down her jaw.

Looking up, he smiled again. "Little place south of the border. Why, do you like marks on your body?"

Blinking up at him, she said, "Well, like that, I guess. Anyway, where were we?"

His lips descended back to her neck, and in her pleasure she didn't notice him pull a small wire from his opened jeans' pocket. Quickly he pushed up from her, and before she could question him, he unraveled the garrote, and wrapped it easily across her neck.

Anabelle's eyes widened as the thin wire cut into her skin and she lashed out desperately. Her fingernails scratched his bare chest, leaving trails of red lines that her attacker ignored.

As she fought desperately, the man smirked, pushing her knees apart and taking advantage of the position. As he sped up, her actions became sluggish, and Anabelle's arms dropped beside her. By the time he'd pulled off, she'd fallen limp, and as he backed away, she didn't move.

With a contented smile, the man pulled his weapon from the skin of her neck, where it had cut in. Taking a knife from his other pocket, he traced the blade over her forearm. Finishing his task, he quickly composed himself and slipped unerringly out of the apartment and out of sight.

3/12/2005 9:33 AM

Sitting at a table in a small library, a young man was pouring over a book entitled Magic for Dummies. With a disgusted sigh, he slapped the book closed.

"What a load of sod," he muttered, a faint British accent coloring his words.

Suddenly a loud tinny version of the song The Entertainer broke the silence. Quickly the young man pulled out his cell phone, wincing slightly at the glares of the various library patrons. Walking to the back hallway, he flipped open his cell.

"What!" he snapped, then closed his eyes. "Sorry, James Black here, what is it?"

"It's Benson. A call came in about a murder on 34th street," the voice on the other end informed him. "The Captain wants you to meet Stabler and me down there."

"Okay, Detective Benson," he answered, taking down the address as she gave it to him.

34th Street

3/12/2005 10:12 AM

James made his way into the apartment complex, flashing his badge to gain him entrance. Nodding at the uniformed officers blocking the door of the first floor apartment, he ducked under the crime scene tape and made his way inside.

"Black, over here," Olivia Benson called, spotting him near the doorway.

Walking over to the brunette detective, he nodded his greeting. "What is it?"

A taller man stepped up to them, and James inclined his head. "Woman, mid-20's, possibly a college student. Found dead in a back bedroom, strangled, evidence of rape," Elliot Stabler explained. "The captain wanted you to work this case with us, give you a taste, seeing as you're new to the department."

James rolled his eyes. "I get it, I get it. Don't forget I've worked the beat a few years, I'm not a complete rookie."

"Maybe," Stabler agreed, clapping him lightly on the shoulder. "But this is a bit different, Black."

"That's the man that found her, over near the bar," Benson said, gesturing in that direction. "Apparently he was playing bartender at the little party held here last night, and came in to clean up this morning. This is his place."

"He a suspect?" James asked.

"At this point, everyone's a suspect, Black," Stabler responded, indicating for them to walk over to the man.

The three detectives quickly stepped over to the bar, and Stabler inclined his hand. "Detective Elliot Stabler, my partner Detective Olivia Benson, and this is Detective James Black," he introduced the group.

"John Apollo," the man responded, standing and shaking their hands. "I already told the other cops everything I knew."

"We know that, sir," Benson said, gesturing for Apollo to sit again and taking the chair across from him. "Now we need you to tell us."

Apollo nodded. "All right. Last night we had a party. The whole complex, you know, like those old block parties from the 60's? Well, I was serving drinks in here till about five am, then, well, I joined a friend of mine in the pool. A few hours later, after the place had cleared out mostly, I returned to start cleaning up a bit. I knocked on the bedroom doors to make any stragglers take off, but no one answered at the back one."

Taking a deep breath, the man glanced at the detectives, then towards the hallway leading to the bedrooms.

"Well," Apollo continued, "I went in and that's when I saw the girl. I thought she was just asleep, but then I saw blood on her neck. She was cold when I checked for a pulse, and I called you guys."

James nodded, jotting his explanation in a notepad. "All right, now, did you know the woman?"

Apollo shook his head. "She had gotten a drink from me, late, I'm not sure when. We flirted a bit, but I didn't even get her name. I had to take care of other orders, and after I looked up, she'd apparently left the room, as I didn't see her again."

"Did you see anyone she might have left with, or noticed her talking with anyone?" Stabler asked.

"No, but I probably wouldn't have noticed if I had," the witness answered. "Everyone hooks up at these parties. Not that we're promoting anything, or doing anything illegal." Apollo looked at the detectives anxiously.

Benson smiled lightly. "That's fine. Now, Mr. Apollo, are there witnesses that can confirm your whereabouts between 2 AM and 4 AM?"

"Why?" Apollo asked. "You don't think I had anything to do with it? I mean, that's crazy!"

"It's merely procedure, sir," James quickly assured him. "It would be helpful if you would answer."

"Well, lots of people saw me at the bar," said Apollo. "At about, oh, I don't know, a quarter to 4, I was with a friend in the pool- Joseph Miller."

James nodded, and wrote down the name. Running a hand distractedly through his hair, he glanced up at the witness. Noticing the man looking curiously at his forehead, James quickly let his hair fall forward, the raven locks covering his distinctive scar. It was habit, though he knew that Muggles had no idea the significance.

"Thank you, Mr. Apollo," Benson said. "We'll ask you to follow these officers instructions, now, if you would."

With that, the three detectives moved away from the bar, and walked across the room.

"Let's go see the crime scene," Stabler instructed, and they stepped down the dim hallway.