Nymphadora Tonks and the Liquor of Jacmel [COMPLETED]
 

Summary: Our favourite shapeshifting Auror gets thrown in at the deep end on her first case, while trying to deal with the complications caused by her very "Black" family history ...

Timeframe: starts about a month after the end of PoA and runs parallel to the first part of GoF.

General notes:
One basic aim with this story was to explore the wider wizarding world, where things go on that have nothing to do with Harry or Hogwarts. Conversely, one nice thing about this setting is that I can expand upon a number of canon characters who have only been briefly mentioned. And naturally a number of the major book characters have cameo roles or walk-on parts.

The story crosses paths with the main plot of the books from time to time -- given Tonks' background and job, it would be surprising if it didn't -- but generally runs parallel.

The subject matter means that I've had to make up a lot of background details and characters, in order to sketch in things which must exist but which we haven't been told about in the books (yet). Note that the story was started in summer 2004, well before the publication date of HBP was announced, but survived it more or less intact.

I've tried to keep the story consistent with canon (Books 1-6, the two Comic Relief books, and even JKR's outside comments). However, if anything printed in DH, said in an interview, or posted on JKR's website contradicts something written here, and assuming I can't edit it in or finesse it somehow, I reserve the right to cough loudly and become mysteriously deaf until the subject is changed. :)

Lawyer-Repelling Charm: The background to this story, and many of the characters, are the property of JK Rowling. I am not JK Rowling, nor any of her heirs, successors, or assignees. I'm not intending, or expecting, to make any money from the Potterverse material. I'm just riffing on it for fun.

Feedback is extremely welcome and goes here.

Prologue: Round Midnight

Sunday, 5th July 1994

(a) The Man Who Couldn’t Take His Liquor

Farley tossed and turned uneasily on the small, uncomfortable bed in the holding cell at Auror Headquarters. It had been more than a week now since they'd put him under arrest for something he hadn't done. Or rather, something they'd told him he'd done. They could be telling him the truth. Even Aurors did sometimes. Because however hard he tried, he simply couldn't remember exactly what had happened to him that Saturday night.

He was reasonably clear up to a point. He remembered dropping into Whitey Wells' going-away party at the Transfigured Toad at about nine o'clock, meaning to have a quick one (or three) before Apparating back home to the wife up north. He remembered slapping Whitey on the back and buying him one of those foul Dragon's Breath cocktails he liked (waste of good Firewhisky, but there you go). He remembered meeting this absolute honey who had drifted by from time to time and flirted with him quite outrageously, and deciding to stick around to see what might come of it. And he was fairly sure he remembered escorting her out the pub at about quarter to midnight.

After that ... things got very hazy indeed.

His only general recollection of the next day was that he'd spent it feeling as if he was floating. He could vaguely remember, in the back of his mind, some sort of voice talking to him. But he couldn't remember a thing about what it had been saying. Later, he could remember heading out to Clapham Common, which was a part of London he'd never previously had any reason to set foot in. But he couldn't for the life of him remember why he'd done that. And then there was one short but sharp memory of a fight. But as to who he was fighting with, or what they were even fighting for in the first place ... he hadn't a clue.

He did however remember clearly the shock of abruptly coming to his senses, and finding himself in a small room with two Aurors looking at him in a very unfriendly manner.

The following few days were ... well, a nightmare. No other word for it.

He'd had many a run-in with the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol in his time, of course. In his, ah, slightly disreputable line of business that was only to be expected, after all. But he'd always stayed well away from anything that could land him in the clutches of the Aurors. Fines were one thing. Even a few nights, or weeks, in these regular cells weren't too bad. But now here he was, up on a charge that could get him sent to the Rock.

He'd known people who'd been sent there. He'd seen them when they got back. Well, at least they looked like the people he'd known, on the outside. They didn't behave like the people they were when they went in.

The charge against him -- he still couldn't believe it -- was attempted murder. They'd shown him the evidence they had; the knife he'd been carrying, a St Mungo's medical report on the man he'd stabbed, eyewitness testimonies from an Auror who'd intervened and a couple of muggles who'd seen him striding across the Common with the knife (it had taken him a while to realise that at least their statements probably wouldn't count against him, most likely they'd had their memories wiped by now). But he couldn't remember any of it. The alleged victim was someone he'd never even heard of.

He'd told them this over and over as they questioned him. He'd become increasingly panic-stricken, until finally it began to dawn on him that somehow, they actually seemed half-convinced. He'd no idea why they'd suddenly started to take his story seriously -- it didn't sound all that plausible even to himself, despite it being absolutely true for once -- but in the first wave of relief he hadn't felt inclined to look a gift Hippogriff in the beak.

Even when the word Veritaserum was mentioned, he didn't object. He was willing to try anything to clear himself by that stage.

He slept fitfully. In his dreams -- rather, in his nightmares -- figures of dark rumour and terrified imagination, in hooded cloaks, with scabbed, slimy hands, sucked at his insides as he lay screaming.


(b) The Wise Old Head of the Department

The white-haired Auror breathed a quiet sigh of relief as he dipped his quill into the inkpot for the last time, added the final few sentences to his report on the case he was working on, and signed his name. He'd more or less taken it on by default; his superiors had shown little interest in any of his suggestions of theories, until the Farley affair had suddenly made them realise that he might just have a point. Unfortunately, that case had been assigned to two of his colleagues. He'd asked for additional help, but realistically, he had little expectation that his request would come to anything. Most of the Ministry staff were spending all their time on either the hunt for Sirius Black or the security arrangements for the Quidditch World Cup.

He tied the report to the leg of his post owl, and opened the window to let it fly away. He realised, on reflection, that he should probably have stayed at the Ministry to finish it; but it was far too late to worry about that now. At least it would arrive on Claymore's desk early next morning.

He looked around the house sadly as he climbed the stairs to go to bed. Not that there was anything obvious in the house itself to be saddened by -- it had a nice cosy study, a pleasantly large lounge, a perfectly comfortable bedroom -- but practically everything in it reminded him of his wife. He felt her absence keenly. He tended to stay up late these days, working past midnight, until sheer tiredness drove him to retire.

It had been nearly two years since she died, after nearly sixty years of marriage. He'd been forced to try to get used to sleeping alone again. Maybe it would eventually get easier.

It hadn't so far.


(c) The Dog in the Night-Time

Ted and Andromeda Tonks arrived back at their home at about half past eleven that night. They'd spent the evening at their daughter's flat (not far away, but just far enough to establish independence while demonstrating affection for her childhood surroundings). She'd held a small, quiet family celebration in honour of her new job. They were prouder of her than they'd been able to say, but they knew Nymphadora -- when she'd answer to that name -- was an intelligent girl and didn't really need to hear it said.

As they opened the front door, a movement at the bottom of the garden caught Andromeda's eye. She felt her heart freeze for a moment at the sight of the large dog gazing at them from the end of the path, and gave an involuntary gasp. Her husband looked at her quizzically. He was Muggleborn, which meant that he knew little of the tales of death omens that his pureblood wife had been brought up with from childhood. Andromeda shook herself with annoyance as she realised that the dog looked like a perfectly normal, solid, everyday sort of dog, not a spectral hound of legend.

"Shoo!" she cried, waving a hand at it, slightly alarmed nonetheless. The dog looked at her with a curious expression -- it might almost have been sadness -- whined in an oddly gentle way, and quietly slunk away into the night.

Around the corner he stopped in a small alleyway and sat back tiredly on his haunches. Earlier that evening, he'd spotted an empty house not too far up the road, with an overgrown garden which looked like a comfortable enough place to spend the night. But before he could curl up there for a well-earned rest, there was just one more thing he had to do.

A youngish couple returning from the pub a few minutes later provided him with the opportunity to do it. The dog wagged his tail furiously in pleasurable anticipation. He was generally well-behaved, but it was going to be quite amusing to act, for a few minutes, like the terrifying figure he was supposed to be. He'd be all right as long as he didn't overdo it.

He hadn't had many opportunities for playfulness in a very long time.


(d) The Concerned Parent

Angelica Hallendale made a valiant attempt to stay interested in the late-night black and white film on BBC2. It was one that she's always been nostalgic about, dimly but fondly remembered from a rare trip to the cinema in her teenage years. That, of course, had been before she'd encountered the wizarding world, at a time when her life had been a great deal simpler. But at the moment, she had far too many other things on her mind to leave space for worrying about how the hero and heroine would ever settle their differences and get together. With a sigh, she pressed the 'off' button on the remote control (smiling wryly, as she often did, at how surprisingly impressed she felt at whatever 'Muggle magic' it was that caused it to work).

Her son Clark had left earlier, storming out of the house and Apparating away from the front lawn without even checking to see if anyone was watching (fortunately, it was a quiet Sunday evening, and nobody was). He really never had been able to handle even her very mild criticism.

She told herself firmly that he'd been under a lot of stress lately. But she knew that she made excuses for him.

As a mother who loved both her sons dearly, she dutifully tried to avoid comparing him with his younger brother, even to herself -- but sometimes, it wasn't easy. Montgomery had been so much more successful in carrying on his share of the family businesses. She was so proud that a wizard child had proven so adept a businessman in the Muggle world.

Another thing she avoided acknowledging to herself was the possibility that a little judicious magic here and there could go a long way.

Even her father might have approved of his grandson's success, despite the mockery and anguish he had endured when his only daughter ran away with a wizard. She lay back in the chair and let her thoughts wander back to her husband, as they often did. She remembered the first time she'd seen him, as if it had just this moment happened; a strange young man from far-away California, winking at her as her father showed him into his study.

It had been a real Abelard and Heloise story; the Poor But Handsome Young Wizard coming to do business with her father, falling in love at first sight with the Rich Man's Beautiful Teenage Daughter, winning her heart (not with any great difficulty), and the two of them eloping by night to Seek Their Fortune Together.

And they had sought it, and found it, in ways that had been frightening but ultimately exhilarating; a revelation to a pampered but overprotected girl who had rarely been allowed even to explore her family holdings without a chaperone. In a way, her previous seclusion had made her sudden introduction to the wizarding world easier to handle; it seemed merely one aspect of the many possibilities opening up all around her. The world had been something glimpsed from a car window, read about in a book, or seen on a cinema screen, not something that she had actually experienced, and she would have been deeply excited to be part of it whoever she had run away with.

They'd had a terrific time, touring the world and getting into any number of scrapes; before eventually settling down, in quiet England of all places, in the late sixties. It had seemed as nice a place as any to raise their young family, and the remainder of her father's holdings, recently inherited, were based there. (The family estates were gone, expropriated; that had been a huge shock, but at least such devastating losses had had the result of reconciling her father to his only child.) They'd accumulated a modest amount of wizarding gold over the years too. When she thought about it, her life story would have made for an even better script than the film she'd been trying to watch. It just hadn't had a happy ending.

England, or at any rate wizarding England, had rapidly ceased to be quiet as open warfare broke out between the authorities and ... and Lord Whatever's forces, and the next ten years had been increasingly difficult for everyone in it. And then, towards the end of the war, Hank Hallendale had gone to a business meeting with a group of men who turned out to be Death Eaters. A squad of Aurors had arrived at the house while he was there, and in the ensuing crossfire Hank had been hit by an Avada Kedavra, from one side or the other -- none of the Aurors who survived the battle had known, or greatly cared, who had actually thrown the curse. The Ministry had issued a curt apology and stated that it was unfortunate, but that these things happened in wartime.

And the foundation had fallen out of Angelica's world.

She sighed and made her way upstairs to bed, where she lay thinking for quite a while before finally falling asleep. It had been fourteen years since it happened, and it still hurt to think about it.

And even after fourteen years without Hank there, it still didn't feel right to be sleeping alone.


(e) The Newest Recruit

The young woman in the Islington flat glanced at the clock on her bedroom wall, which was registering a few minutes to midnight. She wouldn't normally have even considered turning in by now, but she wanted to be up bright and early when she started her new job tomorrow.

It was only now she remembered that she never had been able to actually get to sleep when she tried going to bed early.

It didn't help that it was a stifling hot July night, either, not at all conducive to slumber. With a sigh, she realised that the very long hair she had at the moment was probably a distraction too, weighing heavily on her in this weather. A strained expression crossed her face briefly, and her hair immediately shrunk into a very short, close-cut, almost masculine style. It probably wasn't flattering, but she didn't care. It was much lighter, and she could change it into whatever she liked in the morning anyway.

Nymphadora Tonks picked up her wand and cast a Cooling Charm around the bed, and enchanted a fan lying on the dressing-table to wave vigorously, generating a slight breeze. She hastily added a silencing charm to stop herself being distracted by the flapping. With that, she settled down.

She was really looking forward to tomorrow. She was sure that it was going to be the start of something big.


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1. First Impressions

Monday, 6th July 1994

Tonks tilted her head sideways and looked critically at her reflection in the mirror. Her current hairstyle had been selected carefully from a number of trials; it was brown, shoulder-length, with a slight curl at the ends. The idea behind this one was to look smart but conventional, the better to make a good first impression on the first day in her new job. It wasn't anything remotely like the styles she normally favoured, which tended to run to spikiness and eye-catching colours..

"Hmmm ... I don't know," she said meditatively. "What do you think?"

"It'll be fine, dear," replied the mirror patiently, for the fourth time that morning. "They don't really bother about how you look, do they? Didn't you say even the Minister wears a funny hat?"

Tonks smiled mischievously. "He probably thinks he looks like a typical Muggle businessman, but I bet not many of those wear green bowlers. Anyway, I don't suppose I'll run into anyone senior my first day." She gazed at her reflection thoughtfully. "You sure you didn't think this look was better?" Her face creased briefly, and her hair lengthened considerably and became silvery-blonde.

Mirrors weren't supposed to be able to cringe, but this one somehow managed to give the impression it was doing so. "No, I didn't. Just play it straight, you said. Try not to seem as if you're making a big entrance, you said. I wouldn't call your Veela look inconspicuous. You might as well go as Celestina Warbeck, sign autographs in the foyer, and have done with it." Mirrors weren't supposed to be sarcastic, either, but this one had had to put up with years of experimentation and agonising over questions most mirrors never had to bother with. Then again, most mirrors hung in the bedrooms of people who couldn't change their entire appearance on the slightest whim, and occasionally even the finest of looking-glasses had to be just a little terse with their owners.

Tonks blushed slightly. "Oh well, I guess you're right." The hair changed back to brown, and she strode out into the kitchen, feeling a little uneasy. Getting things right on her first day was very important to her.

Breakfast, she thought. Right. Yes. I really should at least have some breakfast before leaving. Good idea. Don't want to do this on an empty stomach. She waved her wand in the general direction of the bread-bin, with mixed results; several slices flew towards the toaster and bounced off, but eventually she guided a couple into the slots, and it started itself up automatically. Another jab of her wand started the kettle going, and Tonks leant back against the wall and closed her eyes. She hated to admit it, but there was a jumpy feeling in her stomach, and it wasn't caused by a Peppermint Toad.

Of course, if she'd known what the next few months would bring, she might well have been even more nervous. Then again, she might not. Nymphadora Tonks was an unusual young woman in many ways, even allowing for the fact that she was a witch.

Firstly, she was newly-qualified as an Auror, one of the elite of magical law enforcement, which was something she took great pride in. She'd dreamed of being an Auror for as long as she could remember; and still couldn't quite believe that she'd finally made it through the challenges of the training and the rigours of the examinations, let alone the misgivings about her motivations that she'd needed to face before the Ministry would even accept her onto the training course.

Well, at least I will be able to take great pride in it -- just as soon as I get to work this morning, she reflected. Technically, she had become an Auror as soon as she passed the final examinations; but Tonks knew it wasn't going to feel like it until she actually started the job. It had to be this step into the unknown that was causing the uncharacteristic attack of nerves.

Secondly, she was a born Metamorphmagus, and so (unless seriously distracted) able to change her appearance at will. As far as she knew, Metamorphmagi were very rare; certainly none of her instructors in the Auror training classes had taught one before, and most of them had given the impression of working hard to avoid letting her know how highly impressed they were with what she could do.

She thought this talent was quite likely unique among current Ministry employees, and that it was probably going to be immensely useful to her in her new career. It had certainly got her past the Concealment and Disguise exams without any trouble at all. The slightly confused examiners, who had been expecting to test candidates on their skill at self-Transfiguration with a wand, had scratched their heads and finally decided that if she could change her appearance more easily without one, that was probably even better. They had shrugged, awarded her top marks, and passed on to the next candidate.

Thirdly, however, she was extremely clumsy, with an uncanny ability to trip over any solid object that happened to cross her path. In her more reflective moments, she sometimes wondered if this was actually connected to her Metamorphosing ability. It could sometimes be hard to sense where your feet were when your legs were six inches longer than usual.

Then again, even when she was in her normal, natural, everyday form, it still tended to happen, so she had eventually ruefully accepted that it was probably just the way she was. This 'talent' probably wasn't unique, but it promised to be a serious career handicap unless she took great care where she put her feet. It still made her wince to remember the near-disasters on the Stealth and Tracking practical during her final exams.

Tonks took as much time as possible over her toast and marmalade, but couldn't really work up an appetite. She checked the letter from the Ministry again for about the fourteenth time. It still said to be there to report to the Central Division commander's office at 9am. And it didn't ease her nerves that as far as she could tell, she would be the only one starting in the London office, actually in the Ministry itself. Her friends from Auror training seemed to have been scattered to postings all over the country.

When she'd forced down as much food as she could, she glanced up at the kitchen clock again. It was still showing only quarter-past eight, probably from sheer cussedness.

Tonks decided, after a few moments' thought, that she might just as well arrive bright and early. The longer she sat around at home waiting, the more nervous she was going to get. She looked around carefully to make sure that she had everything she needed. Wand. Check. Letter. Check. Brains. Check. She swung her cloak around her, intending to Apparate into work, then stopped the motion half-way through. It really wouldn't do to risk appearing on top of somebody, and looking like a complete idiot on her first day. No, a nice safe Floo journey seemed in order.

Tonks had needed to have her fireplace specially installed; non-wizarding flats generally didn't come with them as standard, and the landlord had asked a lot of funny questions about fire regulations before reluctantly accepting her statement that it was there purely for decorative purposes. It was probably the fact that it didn't actually connect to a chimney that swung it for her. "Incendio," she muttered, and a fire sprang up in the hearth. She grabbed a handful of powder and flung it into the flames, took a deep breath, and stepped in, with a loud shout of "Ministry of Magic foyer!". It was only then that it dawned on her that the usual spinning around associated with this means of transport wasn't going to help her feel any less queasy.

Still, it was a fairly short journey across London to the Ministry, so Tonks managed to emerge in one of the fireplaces lining the walls of the Atrium without feeling too dizzy. She carefully stepped out of the flames and started towards the main gates at the end of the long hallway. Unfortunately, she'd overlooked the raised edge of the grate -- at least until it came to her attention when she tripped over it.

She shot forward as it caught her ankle, and tried desperately not to fall over, but couldn't help colliding with a older wizard who was hurrying across the foyer and paying no attention whatsoever to the people popping out of fireplaces. Both of them sprawled headlong on the polished floor, to the accompaniment of laughter from the other commuters arriving at the Ministry.

"Oh, sorry!" she cried, slightly flustered by this hitch in her plans. "It was the grate, I just forgot it was there, are you OK, I didn't mean to jump you, I mean fall on you, I'm dreadfully clumsy ..." At this point, her ears finally managed to get the message across to her brain that she was babbling, and she hastily clamped her mouth shut.

The wizard picked himself up somewhat gingerly. He'd obviously taken great care with his appearance, with a neatly trimmed toothbrush moustache, and pinstripe robes that had been perfectly pressed until they encountered Tonks. "Never mind, never mind, I haven't been hurt," he said brusquely. "Just be more careful in future. Some of us have to work here, you know." He brushed himself down and strode off at high speed towards the golden gates at the end of the hall, with Tonks following him dejectedly.

Somehow, they found themselves in the same lift. Tonks tried to ignore his pursed lips and obvious disapproval, instead concentrating on keeping an eye on the floor indicator, attempting to avoid the paper aeroplanes flying in and out, and trying to read the upside-down headline on somebody's folded copy of the Daily Prophet. Yet another sighting of Sirius Black. That only made about fifty in the past year.

She hoped fervently that the neatly-dressed wizard wasn't going to turn out to be her boss. Her luck held as he left three floors before her, to her considerable relief. That could have been worse, she thought. That could have been a lot worse. That really would have been a great start to my brilliant career.

She got out at Level Two and headed along the corridor. Exceedingly violent winds and rain were battering on the windows lining its walls; she stepped back in alarm for a moment before she remembered that they must be at least a hundred feet underground, the windows were magical, and there wasn't really a major natural disaster going on outside. On the other hand, the storm wasn't exactly helping to lighten her mood.

In front of the entrance to Auror Headquarters, she stopped for a moment to gather herself. She'd been in here before, of course, but only on guided tours and relatively short training exercises. This was the real thing. She couldn't quite make up her mind whether she wanted to stride in confidently as if she knew what she was doing, or edge in and hope no-one noticed her for a while. With another deep breath, and the feeling that whatever happened it was best to just get it over with, she pushed open the double doors and stepped in.

The noise hit her first; a general background of chatter, and on her left raucous laughter coming from a group of wizards and witches gathered around a cubicle. The occupant popped his head out as his audience turned to look at the newcomer; he was about thirty, perhaps, with his long hair tied in a ponytail, and wearing robes of an eye-hurting shade of scarlet.

"Hey, it's our newest recruit!" he cried. "Now that's more like what I signed up for. No offence meant to present company, of course." Two witches rolled their eyes. "Bentley Williamson's the name, Ben to those who know and love me."

"So that'll be no-one then?" said one of the witches (slightly too innocently) in a Welsh accent. "You must be Nymphadora Tonks -- I'm Rhiannon Davies, a little bit senior to our Bentley here and far more sensible." She didn't look particularly senior, with an impish grin and a lot of curly blonde hair. "Welcome aboard, love, and don't let him put you off. All charms and no wand, look you!"

"Ouch. You are so cruel sometimes, Auror Davies. Anyone would think you didn't adore me really."

Tonks grinned. "Wotcher, Auror Williamson. I guess it's good training for the job. They told me I'd need to cope with all sorts of hideously unpleasant things." This feeble sally appeared to strike the right note, as the whole group, including Williamson, roared with laughter.

"Right, then, love, let me give you brief intros to the dream team here -- you never know, you might be working with some of them," said Davies briskly. Williamson cheered and Davies rolled her eyes again. "Of course, if you're really lucky, you might not be. Anyhow, you've met Ben -- I'm sorry he had to be the first person you saw, obviously. This is Eleanor Finchley." She indicated a plump witch with brownish hair, who smiled at Tonks pleasantly enough. "This ... rogue here is Donnacha O'Gregan." A dark-haired wizard grinned at her words and winked at Tonks; the obvious source of his name was backed up by a set of emerald-green robes with a large Ballycastle Bats badge pinned to the front of them. "And this is Arnold Cornworthy." A tall, slightly balding wizard with a hang-dog expression, he nodded at her.

"Did they tell you what I'll be assigned to?" asked Tonks hopefully.

"Not yet," said Davies with a shrug. "You're a bit early, aren't you? Tell you what, I'll take you up to the boss's office, he'll be glad to see you're making an early start. No doubt you'll see this bunch of reprobates around the place. If they aren't out visiting dodgy pubs disguised as a stray Crup, of course."

"Hey now, we only do that for work purposes!" called Williamson after them in a mock-insulted voice as she guided Tonks away. "And not more than once or twice a week! Well, three or four maybe. All right, five tops, unless it's a special occasion ..."

His voice faded out into the general background noise as they walked across the office. Rhiannon Davies introduced the Aurors in the cubicles that they passed, reeling off a series of names and current cases. Tonks tried to remember a few of them, but soon realised that her memorisation technique had gone rusty since she'd finished her final exams. Most of the Aurors glanced up to see who their new colleague was, and a few waved cheerily. A bald black wizard -- Davies had called him something like Shackleton -- looked at her with particular curiosity, and with what seemed to be (but probably only in her nervous imagination) a disapproving expression.

Davies stopped at the far end of the office in front of an oak door bearing a small brass plate reading "Commander of Aurors, Central Division, EGBERT CLAYMORE". Tonks suppressed a smile at the first name. It wasn't as if she was really in a good position to make jokes about such things.

"Claymore's a decent enough sort once he's convinced you can do the job -- unless you really screw something up, of course," whispered Davies. If that was meant to be reassuring, it wasn't very effective. "Like I said, he should be pleased you've arrived for work nice and early. He's a stickler for duty himself; I'm not sure if he doesn't just Transfigure his desk into a bed and sleep here sometimes. Good luck."

Davies knocked on the door and a terse voice from within said "Come!".

"You're on, love," she said. "Try not to be put off if he's a bit brusque."

Tonks nodded; she'd recognised the name. And the voice. "I know. I've been on the receiving end of it before," she said shortly. "Thanks ... er, Rhiannon."

Rhiannon Davies raised her eyebrows in inquiry, but Tonks just took yet another deep breath (it seemed to be the morning for them) and stepped in. She wasn't really looking forward to meeting Claymore again. Not after the last time.

***

March 1991

Tonks had seen, as soon as she stepped into the interview room, that it had been carefully set up to feel intimidating. She sat on a chair in the middle of the room; the desks at which the other occupants were sitting were arranged around it in a semicircle, with two of them uncomfortably placed (for Tonks) on either side of her, just at the edge of her vision. All were slightly too far away for her to rest her hands or elbows on without stretching out and looking foolish.

"Good morning, Miss Tonks," said the woman in front of her in a brisk voice. A quill on the desk flipped itself upright and began to record the words as they were spoken. "Presiding: Amelia Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Conducting the interview: Egbert Claymore, commander of the Central Division" -- she indicated the man on her right, then turned to her left -- "and Bruno Featherstone, head of Auror Training." She waved a hand at the people on either side of Tonks: "Additional observers: Auror Cassidy Brickell and Andrew Podmore of the Hall of Records. Egbert, do you wish to start?"

"Thank you, Amelia," said the wizard, who was slightly balding, with a grizzled moustache. His voice was gruff, with a hint of a Scottish accent. "Now then. Miss Tonks, as you know, this interview marks the final stage of your application for employment by the Ministry in the capacity of Auror. As you should know, this is a highly responsible job, and not to be entered into lightly. This session should assist us in judging your fitness to serve. Clear?"

"Yes, sir," said Tonks. The interview didn't look like it was going to go smoothly. But then, she'd never really expected that it would.

"We have received a confirmatory copy of your academic record from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and the results of your aptitude tests, and they meet our minimum requirements satisfactorily. You received six NEWT level qualifications, is that correct?"

"Yes, sir." Tonks said again, in a voice that sounded a lot more confident than she felt. "Grade 'O' in Transfiguration and Charms, 'E's in Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potions, and Ancient Runes, and an 'A' in Herbology."

"I see. Well, we're not too concerned about the 'A' grade passes, to be honest, but the rest are up to a reasonable standard. If you are to become an Auror, you'll need to know a lot more than they ever taught you at school, and if you're accepted for training we'll bring you up to scratch in the subjects you need anyway. Isn't that right, Bruno?"

"Yes, it is," said the wizard on Tonks' right. His voice was quiet, but carried a distinct undertone of authority that Tonks found very noticeable. "We tend to discover that our trainees have the uncanny ability to forget most of what they learnt immediately after their final examination, but we'll be trying to find out what you've retained later on. Of course, in your case you've had even greater opportunities to forget, isn't that correct?"

"Sir?" said Tonks, caught slightly by surprise.

"It appears from your application form" -- Featherstone indicated a piece of parchment on the desk -- "that rather than apply during your NEWT year to start Auror training immediately upon leaving school, you decided to spend some time on a sort of world tour. You then started work in a junior capacity at the Ministry, before finally getting round to applying to be taken on as an Auror. Naturally, we do have to be slightly concerned as to exactly what your level of commitment is. Doesn't that sound fair?"

"Er, no sir, it doesn't," said Tonks. At least she'd anticipated this question and had an interview-ready answer prepared and ready to recite. "I've always really wanted to be an Auror, far more than any other career, but I also wanted to take the chance to experience something of the world while I didn't have any ties. I didn't want to find myself half way through training wondering what I might have done if I hadn't started straight away. I didn't apply right away when I got back because I was told the next training course wasn't due to start for a while, but when I did I was absolutely sure that this was what I wanted to be."

"I see," said Claymore. "You're saying you've got the wanderlust out of your system now. Is that what you mean?"

"Yes sir. And it's all good experience, isn't it?"

"I don't know, Miss Tonks. Where did you go? What did you do?"

"Oh." This was another expected question. "Well, first I did Europe on the grand tour ... all the touristy things, I suppose, like riding gondolas in Venice, visiting the Parisian Apothecaries, looking round the Black Forest Museum of Sorcery. Then I went to America and travelled coast to coast, just Apparating from town to town, staying a night or two in each place. I camped out for a while in South America, doing odd jobs, helping the local ministry look for wild Vipertooths, that sort of thing. Treated myself to a trip round the Caribbean, then came back and got a job here while I waited for the application to go in."

Claymore didn't look especially impressed by this listing of destinations. "Quite adventurous. And you consider this will be useful?"

"Well, sir, I've learnt things that that I'd never have learnt on a training course, practical things that I expect would be useful to me as an Auror."

This reply met with a slightly disconcerting silence. Then Claymore asked "What things?"

"Sir?"

"What things do you think you 'learnt', Miss Tonks? Do you really have any understanding of what an Auror needs to know?"

Tonks gulped, but was relieved to find herself answering firmly enough. "I learnt how to size people up, sir. I found out more about what the, um, seamier side of wizarding life is like than I'd ever had cause to before. I had to learn how to defend myself when necessary, how to translate all the duelling stuff I was taught at school into real life situations. I learnt ... well, when I needed to fend for myself and when I needed to accept help. Now, I know I'll have to learn loads more to be a good Auror, sir, but I reckon that's a start, and a better start than I'd have got coming straight from Hogwarts."

"Not a bad answer, Nymphadora," came a voice from her left. Tonks suppressed a shudder at the use of her first name (wishing, for about the two thousandth time in her life, that her father had won the parental naming argument). She turned to the Auror, Brickell, who continued: "I sometimes wish I'd done all that before I joined. I noticed that you missed out something rather important in that list of yours, though, didn't you?"

Tonks groaned to herself. Oh great, she thought. Now I've probably insulted the interviewer, and she wants to play guessing games. Terrific. "Very probably," she said, sparring for time. "I'd be silly to claim that I know everything I need to know for the job, or that I know the right emphasis to place on the things I do know." This noncommittal reply didn't get any reaction, and she realised that she was going to have to make some kind of stab at it. "I'm certainly weak on the details of our laws, but I always expected to have to study them ..."

"Well, that's the problem, Nymphadora." interrupted the Auror. "It's not just our laws -- or rather our world -- that you need to know. You've been halfway around the planet, it seems, but are we to understand that you confined yourself to the local magical communities? You won't be able to do that as an Auror -- your work would involve a lot of contact with Muggles."

"Well, naturally I spent a lot of time in Muggle communities as well." Tonks didn't like this line of conversation much. It sounded like it had better be tackled head-on. She forced what she hoped was a reasonable facsimile of her usual mischievous smile onto her face. "I wouldn't have seen half the things of interest if I had. And I live in a Muggle flat. Of course, I grew up in a magical family so I'm not an expert, but my dad's Muggle-born so I'm quite at home there." Not that bad an answer, she thought critically. Down a few goals but pulled it back with the Snitch.

"Ah yes, I wanted to get onto the subject of your family at some point," said Claymore, who still hadn't smiled once. "Now will be as good a time as any, before we start talking details. We look closely into the background of applicants for Ministry positions, especially in this department of course, and to be frank in your case I don't very much like what I see."

Tonks turned and looked at him in surprise. "Sir? Are you saying Muggle relatives are a handicap for an Auror? Or any Ministry employee for that matter?"

"No, Miss Tonks. I'm not talking about your blood, or lack or it. I am referring to the fact, that, to be blunt, you come from a family that despite whatever nobility and age it may pride itself on, has displayed frequent criminal tendencies, a family that has caused this particular Department no end of trouble over the years. Especially recent ones." He looked at her sternly. "How can we convince ourselves to trust that you will not, let us say, revert to type?"

Tonks was beginning to feel uncomfortable now. "My family are not criminals!" she said sharply, barely managing to control her sense of outrage. It was true; she tended to include only herself and her parents in the way she usually thought of the word family. "I'd be the first to admit I've not always behaved myself, but I've never crossed the line, or anywhere near it." This was definitely something she hadn't prepared herself for -- although she realised now that she really should have seen it coming.

Claymore looked at her sharply. "We know you haven't, Miss Tonks, because if you had you would never have got within a million miles of this interview. I think you may have trouble supporting your first claim, though." He nodded to the man on Tonks' right who had not yet spoken. "Mr Podmore, could you oblige us?"

"Yes, certainly, sir." Tonks glanced at the speaker; a tall, solemn-looking man, with untidy straw-coloured hair that was starting to go grey. He picked up a sheet of parchment and began reading from it. "Let's see. One of your cousins imprisoned for life in Azkaban, who was among You-Know-Who's most senior lieutenants. A cousin I believe your mother was very close to, Miss Tonks, incidentally. His known crimes include thirteen murders committed personally, and the betrayal of his best friends to their deaths at the hands of his master. Another cousin, his brother, also a member of the Death Eaters, and apparently killed while taking part in their activities. An aunt and uncle serving life sentences in Azkaban" -- his voice hardened -- "for torturing two of our people into permanent incapacity in an insane attempt to bring You-Know-Who back. Three more cousins and one great-aunt convicted of giving assistance to the Death Eaters. Shall I go on, sir?"

"No, I think that's more than enough to be going on with," said Claymore with disgust. "In addition, Miss Tonks, it is a matter of record that your mother's family publicly supported the aims of He Who Must Not Be Named throughout his initial rise to power. Oh, most of them quietened down when the killings began, of course, but we've no reason to believe they had an actual change of heart."

He paused for a moment to gaze at her grimly. "Now, as I'm sure you know, there are many people who are inclined to give members of old wizarding families the benefit of the doubt on behaviour like this. I'm glad to say few of them are Aurors. We're the ones who have to deal with the trouble it causes. Under the circumstances I think you'll see that your Muggle relations are the least of our concerns."

Tonks stared at Claymore open-mouthed; even Amelia Bones was looking at him curiously. The other interviewers seemed to be trying hard to keep their expressions completely blank. Tonks was finding words difficult. "Sir? I have never, ever gone along with the Black family beliefs," she spluttered. "My mother ... she ... she left the family because she couldn't accept them any more! I'm a half-blood myself, if that makes any difference to anyone! It's ridiculous to suppose I would ever be involved in ... in anything like that."

"If you were, you wouldn't be the first half-blood who did, Miss Tonks." This was from Featherstone again, quietly, but with emphasis. "Some of the worst of You-Know-Who's supporters during the war were people disgusted by their own part-Muggle ancestry. People who tried to keep it hidden away where it wouldn't be seen, even by themselves. We find that a person longing to be accepted into the fold despite knowing they are considered inferior, despite believing themselves to be inferior, can be exceedingly dangerous."

"And there were many who supported him for other reasons, of course," continued Claymore. "Fear. Blackmail. Bribery. Peer pressure. You don't need pure blood to be swayed by such things. Please do tell us, how can we be sure that you don't want to follow your family traditions?"

"Because I hate the Death Eaters and everything that they stood for!" This came out so vehemently it surprised even Tonks. "You can't really think it was like 'Oh Auntie Bella, please drop by for afternoon tea, tell us all about who you tortured today'? We always knew she was an evil cow who thought the sun shone out of You-Know-Who's wand, however well she put on an act for everyone else. We were glad when she finally got caught, we thought she'd got away with it!" Tonks knew she was losing her self-control, but didn't seem able to stop herself. "You can't believe that I would actually have wanted to join them? I was only a kid at the time, but even then I knew what You-Know-Who and his ... his ... his scum did to people! As for my precious cousin ... I have never felt more betrayed in my life than when I realised what he'd done. I'd have thrown him to the Dementors myself once I knew!"

She gritted her teeth and forced herself to speak more calmly. "I knew even back then that I would just love to be the sort of person who stopped *******s like that. Sorry, pardon my French. I don't suppose I realise everything yet that I need to know in order to be that, no, but I want to learn. I really, honestly do. Oh, and I couldn't care less what the Black family thought, or think, about me. I barely know most of my mother's relatives, and as far as I'm concerned if they don't like me or my parents, that's their problem and they can just stew in their own potion."

A very pronounced silence followed. To her surprise, Featherstone looked quietly pleased, Amelia Bones nodded approvingly, and even Claymore looked somewhat mollified. "Very well, Miss Tonks. I think you've made your position very ... clear. We'd best leave that there. Perhaps we should discuss some of the things you'll be doing if you're taken on. Bruno? ..."

The three Aurors present now began to direct a barrage of difficult technical questions at her, testing her knowledge of offensive and defensive spells, the uses of potions and the minutiae of their ingredients, and the properties of various types of magical equipment. Featherstone had been right; in the time since she'd left Hogwarts she had forgotten much of what she'd learned. Although she came up with solid answers to many of the questions, she knew she'd struggled on the more complex ones.

Toughest of all were the occasional philosophical questions on the ethical aspects of law enforcement that Featherstone threw in when she wasn't expecting them, forcing her to come up with improvised answers on the spur of the moment. At least her replies to these seemed to go down well with him, which was a definite relief.

Claymore didn't appear to be particularly impressed by anything she said, but by this time she was beginning to suspect that he would barely give her a nod of approval if she revealed that she'd invented a cure for lycanthropy in a quiet couple of hours the previous evening. Featherstone, however, smiled encouragingly from time to time, which she found heartening. Amelia Bones listened carefully and occasionally nodded, and Podmore kept out of things other than to quote regulations when asked, having apparently been invited here for the sole purpose of reading out his notes. Brickell turned out to be a smarmy cow, but you couldn't pick and choose in these situations.

As the interview wore on, Tonks gradually realised that her nervousness had evaporated after her earlier outburst. She began to relax and enjoy the challenge.

For the first time since sending in the application form, she had begun to feel confident that she might actually be accepted for Auror training ...


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2. The Oldest Newcomer In The Business


Tonks couldn't help but feel a certain natural trepidation at the thought of meeting Claymore again. This time, he was the only person in the room on the other side of the door; she wasn't sure if that made her feel relieved or not. His eyebrows rose when he saw who it was, and he gestured to her to take a seat.

"Good morning, Miss Tonks," he said shortly. "I wasn't expecting you until later, but I'm glad to see you're here early. So what do you think of the place?"

"Er - pretty much what I thought it would be, sir." She hesitated, wondering what to say next. Claymore and his office were rather intimidating for a novice. He looked at her with a shrewd expression.

"I suppose you're wondering what I think of you, aren't you? After all, you've probably only seen me ... what, once?"

"Yes, sir. My initial interview. Well, I saw you in passing at the graduation ceremony, but that was the only time we ... talked."

He studied her for a moment, then his face broke into a very slight smile. Although it looked like an expression that didn't get much use, it was at least slightly reassuring. "Yes, Miss Tonks, I was a little harsh with you at that interview. I had to be. It's nothing personal, we're like that with everyone who wants the job. The first and most important thing we need to find out about an applicant is what they're like. See how they react, get a feel for how they think, how they behave. Especially when, as in your case, they have something worrying in their background." He sat back. "Truth be told, I was quite impressed by the way you came back at us."

"Oh." Tonks was caught slightly off-guard. "I didn't really think, I suppose you ... just touched a raw nerve, I guess. I thought I might have blown it actually," she added nervously.

Claymore gave her a measured look. "Yes, you might have done - if that interview had been at the end of your training, rather than before it started. To begin with, we're more interested in your attitude than your self-control. But I'll do you the credit of assuming you learned how to deal with pressure fairly well during the last three years. Believe me, if you hadn't, you wouldn't be standing here."

"No, sir." Claymore looked at her appraisingly.

"I think you'll do, Miss Tonks. I've had good reports of you from the instructors."

"Oh. Thank you." That was a pleasant surprise.

"Indeed. Now, I'm not a man who believes in letting new recruits drift around for a couple of weeks, 'getting the feel of the place' or some such nonsense. Wastes their time and mine. You'll go straight into an investigation. Better be something you can learn from as you go ..." Claymore glanced around his desk, then reached for a piece of parchment lying on top of a pile. "Hmm, yes, why not?"

He picked up his wand and tapped on a small framed mirror on the desk, saying "Cassius Scrimgeour" into it in a carefully enunciated voice.

There was a short pause, then the mirror unfolded to about eighteen inches square and a voice came from it: "Yes sir?"

"Cassius, I've just read your latest report. Good news - I think you may be right. I'm going to give you what you asked for." A voiced from the mirror said something Tonks couldn't quite catch, and Claymore shook his head. "Sorry, no. We're too short-staffed at the moment, what with the bloody World Cup and this Black case on top." He glanced up at Tonks as he said this, and she felt her eyes widen as she realised what he was talking about.

"... Actually, it's her first day, so you'll have to show her the ropes, but according to Bruno she knows how to hold her wand. And she's got interesting talents of her own that I think you'll like. Come in here and I'll brief you while she's getting kitted out downstairs."

"Kitted out?" said Tonks curiously, as Claymore tapped the mirror with his wand again and turned to her.

"Yes, Miss Tonks, kitted out. Now you've joined us, you'll need the right tools for the job. We don't send you out on the streets with just your wand, you know." He shook his head at Tonks' enquiring look. "You've got paperwork to fill in before you can start, though. Get that sorted, then go and talk to the Enchanted Instrumentation people. When you're finished there, come back here and see old Scrimgeour for details of what we want you to do. We'll get you a cubicle next to him. Off you go."

Claymore sat back, clearly considering the conversation over. Tonks nodded, muttered something noncommittal and went back out into the main office, breathing a silent sigh of relief. Once again, that could have been a lot worse. Williamson popped his head out of a cubicle as she walked past, winked and gave her a thumbs-up, and Davies leapt up to meet her.

"How did it go?" she asked excitedly.

"Oh ... fine I think," said Tonks. "Is he always that abrupt?"

"Pretty much, I'm afraid. What's he got you doing?"

"I don't know yet. He spoke to somebody called Cassius through a mirror. Is he one of your team?" she asked hopefully.

"Cassius?" Davies looked taken aback. "No, not really, he's pretty much a sort of roving law unto himself. I'm surprised Claymore assigned you to him actually. Don't worry," she added hastily, as what must have been a look of alarm crossed Tonks' face. "He's a really nice bloke, you'll get along fine. Honest. I'm not entirely sure what he wants you to do, but one of the things he was banging on about seems to have worked out and it's ... well, anyway if it's what I think it is, he'll be very happy to tell you all about it himself. Looks like he's convinced Claymore, anyway."

"It sounded that way." Tonks suddenly remembered where she was supposed to be going first. "Do you know where I go for the paperwork? Apparently I have some forms to fill in, and then I have to go find the 'enchanted instrumentation department', wherever that is?"

Davies giggled. "Oh, of course, yes. K, our resident genius. You'll get writer's cramp from the forms, I'm afraid, Nymphadora." She noticed Tonks wince. "What's the matter?"

"Just Tonks, yeah?" she replied pleadingly. "I've been trying to live that first name down ever since I was a kid."

"Oh, all right," said Rhiannon, grinning. "You'll have to put it on the forms though. You have to sign all sorts of things to say who you are and where you live and what your wand's made of ... and that you've read and understood all the regulations."

"I am?" said Tonks uncertainly.

"Yeah, for form's sake. I mean, right, like anybody has. Well, Claymore maybe." She looked at Tonks with a touch of sympathy. "Come on, I'll show you to the admin offices, they're only a few doors down the corridor on the right. They'll tell you how to get to K's lot when you've finished."

*****

Rhiannon Davies hadn't been kidding about the writer's cramp. Tonks had spent all of the morning and a good part of the afternoon filling in endless rolls of parchment, recording everything from her Floo network address to her next of kin. Eventually, she'd escaped to find the Enchanted Instrumentation Department, which sounded much more interesting. It turned out to be in the basement of the building, along a dimly lit corridor that the lift didn't even go down to. For the third time that day, she found herself hesitating outside a door.

She knocked on it a couple of times. There was no sign that anyone within had heard her. She tried again, and a third time, with the same result. She paused for a moment or two, irresolute, then with a shrug, tentatively opened the door and stepped in, half-expecting to be shouted at. Most of the people working there, however, appeared to be no more than mildly interested that they had a visitor at all.

Tonks looked around her in slight confusion. She didn't quite know what she'd expected the place to look like, but subconsciously, she'd imagined there would be some sort of counter at which she would have to apply. Whatever she'd thought, it wasn't anything like the scene that faced her.

The instrument enchanters appeared to prefer working in messy surroundings. Benches and tables covered in curious-looking objects were arranged higgledy-piggledy around the room. A wizard with rolled-up sleeves and a truly impressive bushy grey moustache looked up from one of the tables, caught her eye, and smiled. "Can I help you?" he asked politely.

Tonks grinned back at him in relief. "Hope so. I'm Tonks, I just joined the Department. I'm supposed to pick up some stuff I need here? Hang on ..." She dug out the small ID scroll she'd been given downstairs and tapped it with her wand; it unfurled to show her photograph and Auror credentials.

"Ah, excellent, excellent!" said the man. "We haven't had any new people for a couple of years. Welcome aboard! I'm in charge of this lot, by the way. Quentin Kraft's the name, but you can call me K, everyone round here does." He waved a hand in the general direction of the other wizards and witches in the room, who looked up briefly and nodded to Tonks, before returning to whatever it was they were working on. It was obviously much more interesting to them than a new recruit.

K fussed about, glancing around the tables. "Now let me see, you'll be wanting the standard issue stuff. Just a couple of essential things really, though you can always ask if you need something special. Some of your lot cart around so much stuff I'm surprised they can fit it all in their robes."

He moved some sheets of parchment on which little dots were moving, found what looked like a small multi-blade pocket knife, and handed it to her. "Here you go. This little thingamabob has a number of useful functions - this blade opens locks, you see, and this one doors, even if they've had something stronger than Colloportus cast on them. Run it around the edge, quite easy. This little pointy thing here, jab it in food or drink and it'll turn red if it's been tampered with, spots most of the well-known hexes, potions, and venoms. It's not infallible, I'm afraid, it's a bit too small, but quite handy. Then - oh never mind," he said, spotting Tonks' slightly glazed look as she tried to memorise this information. "There's an instruction scroll here, why not take it away with you and you can see what's what when you've got a bit more time."

He turned to rummage through the piles of equipment while Tonks skimmed through the instructions. The knife had a number of interesting-looking attachments, even if some of them were rather quaint (such as a tool for charming stones out of a Hippogriff's hooves, which didn't seem likely to prove all that useful).

K threw a small rod at her - "here you are, my dear, you might as well take a few odds and ends while you're here, that's a Secrecy Sensor," a packet of buttons - "panic buttons to sew on your robes, just press hard on them and it'll alert your team," and a small circular gadget with a needle - "locator compass, sensitive to wizards and witches, just tap it with your wand and it'll point at the nearest one of our people to you. Useful for spotting them in a crowd of muggles." Tonks raised her eyebrows at this, but forbore to point out that doing anything with a wand in a crowd of muggles was likely to cause a lot more trouble than it was worth.

"Ah yes, the main thing you'll need, communications!" K pulled something out from underneath a pile of small unidentifiable silvery gadgets. "Very important. This is our latest little toy. Experimental issue for Aurors only." He pushed a small object across the table at her with pride.

Tonks picked it up in disbelief. "A mobile phone? Um, K, is this some sort of mingle-with-the-Muggles thing?"

"Yes, indeed!" His enthusiasm was obvious. "My own invention! We used to supply Aurors with two-way mirrors that you could talk into" -- like Claymore's, realised Tonks -- "but they were a bit hard to explain away if a Muggle saw you using one. These work on the same principle, but they're built into a Muggle telling-fone, so they don't look suspicious at all!"

"Good. Terrific. Er, how do they work?"

"Oh, they're very easy to use. All you have to do is speak the name of the Auror you want to contact into it, theirs will make a sort of ringing sound, and you can talk."

"Like a sort of private Floo network, you mean?"

"Exactly!" He seemed pleased that she'd grasped the principle so quickly. "You'll see who it is in the mirror -- oh yes, forgot to mention, that little square part at the top expands into a mirror when you're talking to somebody. It's enchanted so only you can see it, so don't worry about the Muggles getting curious." A thought suddenly seemed to occur to him. "Er, if you're using it in a Muggle street, you might want to press a few buttons first so it looks like what they expect."

"Right." Tonks was grinning now. "I don't suppose you can still actually use it as a mobile phone then?"

"Talk to Muggles, you mean?" said K with more than a little pride in his voice. "Oh yes, it - what's their word - inthefaces with their system, so you can call to them or they can call to you and it'll link up quite nicely. Had to charm it to do that, of course - the other spells scramble its innards, unfortunately. Really tricky one, took me ages to get right during the development phase. I kept getting suspicious comments from their operationals who wanted to know what network I was on." He slapped his forehead. "Great Merlin, that reminds me - don't let a Muggle touch it, it's enchanted to stop working completely if they do."

"Huh?" said Tonks, nonplussed. K shook his head sadly.

"No choice, my dear. Official rules. My prototypes didn't do that, but unfortunately somebody left one behind in a pub, and a Muggle picked it up and started using it. Well, you can imagine what happened. Caused a huge row when somebody called it - the mirror popped out, of course, and the fellow on the other end blithely started discussing dark wizards and curses without looking to see who he was talking to. That Misuse of Muggle Artefacts chap Weasley wrote a very critical report. Went all the way up to the Minister's office, I believe, and the only way Amelia Bones was able to calm them all down was to say they would just go completely kaput if they got into the hands of a Muggle."

"Oh. Um, so is there any way I can fix it if, say, I trip and drop it and a Muggle picks it up?" Tonks crossed her fingers behind her back, hoping K wouldn't realise she was asking because this was just exactly the sort of thing she might do.

"Not by yourself, I'm afraid. If that happens, take it in to Magical Maintenance and they'll reset it for you." Tonks breathed a silent sigh of relief. "You'll have to put up with it if they start complaining. Please don't actually lose it though, they're very difficult to make with all those fiddly charms on them. Since nobody else has bothered to learn how to do it, I get lumbered! That's why we're only issuing them to Aurors at the moment."

"Right you are, K." Tonks kept her fingers crossed. "Is that it, then? You don't supply invisibility cloaks or anything like that?"

K's eyebrows shot upwards. "Invisibility cloaks? Merlin's hat, no, far too expensive for general issue. If you really need anything unusual like that for an investigation you can put a requisition in, of course." He looked around vaguely at the tables, but obviously didn't spot anything that reminded him of something the needed to be mentioned. "Anyway, that's all you actually have to have, I think. But let us know if you need anything in particular and we'll see what we can do."

"Thanks!" Tonks waved to the instrument enchanters on the way out, but only one or two of them looked up, briefly, before returning to their work. She shrugged and closed the door gently. Best not interrupt them if the work is so absorbing ...

She looked at the "mobile" curiously, then on impulse spoke into it: "Cassius Scrimgeour."

It buzzed a couple of times, and then a small mirror, about six inches square, opened out. "Yes?"

The man in the mirror had a kindly face, which was beginning to go wrinkled, and a shock of very white hair. He looked vaguely familiar, but Tonks couldn't quite place him. He smiled at her. "Don't tell me, let me guess - Nymphadora Tonks?" Tonks nodded. "Very well, come on up then. I've been hearing a lot about you."

***

Cassius Scrimgeour's cubicle turned out to be on the other side of the partition from the ones where Tonks had met Williamson and the others on her way in that morning. He sprang to his feet as she arrived and pulled out a chair, waiting for her to sit down before returning to his seat.

"Good morning, Miss Tonks," he said with a friendly-looking smile. "I do hope you won't feel you've drawn the short straw working with me. I'm Cassius Scrimgeour, but of course you knew that. Please do call me Cassius, won't you?" He had a courtly, old-world manner and a mellow tone of voice that Tonks found slightly amusing.

"Thanks, Cassius," she said. "I'm Nymphadora Tonks - but you knew that as well, obviously. Call me Tonks."

"Oh, certainly." Scrimgeour raised his eyebrows slightly, giving the impression of a man who was surprised, but too polite to ask for details. It took a second or two for Tonks to realise why. "Oh, sorry!" she said, mortified. "That sounds horribly rude, doesn't it? It's just ... I've always hated my first name. You don't really mind calling me by my surname, do you?"

"Of course not, if you prefer." His eyes twinkled. "To be honest, I suppose my own first name is a bit unusual, too, but it's a family tradition with the Scrimgeours to give the children classical names."

Tonks chuckled in relief. "OK by me. My mother didn't even have the excuse of using a family tradition, she just took it from a character in some old book she liked as a kid."

"Would that be The Adventure Club stories?" asked Scrimgeour with interest. "I read those when I was at school. I used to read them to my daughter, as well, although I'm not sure she enjoyed it as much as I did." His eyes twinkled again, in a way that suggested this came quite naturally to him.

Tonks raised her eyebrows in turn. She'd never come across anyone other than her mother who'd admitted to actually reading the books. "I think so. Sounds like the right title, anyway. I never fancied reading them, to be honest."

Scrimgeour shook his head. "You missed out on a treat then, if I may say so. It really is a classic wizarding children's series -- uh, well, it was in my day, anyway." He looked slightly embarrassed. "They're all about this group of children who run around at school having adventures under the noses of their teachers, and defeating plots by dark wizards. Nymphadora Norville was one of the heroines. You'd probably actually quite like being named after her."

Tonks shrugged. She didn't think it would have made much difference, personally -- a funny name is a funny name, especially when you're being teased about it -- but she didn't want to upset her new partner right off the bat. "Oh well, maybe if I have kids to read to one day I'll look them up. Come to think of it, odd names run in mum's family, so I suppose Nymphadora seemed relatively normal to her." She sighed. "I just wish she'd given me a decent middle name at least. I could have used that."

"Why, what is it?" asked Scrimgeour curiously.

Tonks went through a brief internal struggle. "Promise you won't tell anyone? I hated having to write it down on the forms this morning."

He grinned. "Auror's honour. How's that, er -- Tonks?"

Tonks grinned back. "Fine then. It's, um ..." -- her voice dropped slightly -- "Diaphanta."

Comprehension appeared on Scrimgeour's face. He chuckled at her. "Oh, I see. Most appropriate. I suppose you wouldn't know, but Diaphanta Dennison is the other heroine of the stories."

A great light dawned on Tonks. Although she really, really wished her mother had grown up with a different selection of reading material ... at least her choice of names had made some kind of sense. Still, she'd have been much happier with her father's preference of "Katherine" (a name he still sometimes used for her when her mother wasn't listening).

Her attention snapped back as she realised that Cassius was still speaking.

"... to use one of my middle names, too, but they happen to be Septimus Cato, so I suppose you could say Cassius was the best of a bad job. Anyway, enough about our unfortunate names," he said slightly guiltily. "I should be telling you what I want you to work on, Tonks. Did Claymore tell you anything?"

"No." That seemed like a safe answer, and had the merit of being entirely true.

"Ah." Scrimgeour reached into a desk drawer and riffled through some pieces of parchment, then frowned.

"Bother," he said. "I thought I had my notes here, but I must have left them at home after I wrote my report last night. You'll need to read through them later, Tonks, but the one-sentence summary is: I think we have a problem with a dangerous potion that seems to have appeared on the black market in some quantity recently. It's taken me quite a while to assemble information on possible uses. I haven't been able to find out very much -- well, anything at all to be honest -- about where it's coming from, so I suggested we needed someone to do some. er, undercover work."

He visibly hesitated. "I must admit, though, I really don't like the idea of throwing you in at the deep end like this. But Claymore was dropping mysterious hints that I should ask you about the special skills at disguise you have?" His voice rose slightly in mild inquiry.

Tonks nodded. "Yeah, well, sort of anyway. I'm a Metamorphmagus -- do you know what I mean by that?"

This time, his eyebrows didn't rise so much as shoot up towards his hairline. "Good grief. You mean ... you can ... you don't need ...". He stopped, obviously at a loss for words. Tonks smiled at him.

"Here, let me demonstrate." The familiar strained expression appeared on Tonks' face several times, as she changed her appearance successively into a tall grey-haired woman, a short, plump teenage girl with long wavy tresses, as close a likeness of Madam Bones as she could manage from memory, a middle-aged black woman with close curls, Celestina Warbeck the Singing Sorceress, and then back to her normal appearance.

Scrimgeour hitched his jaw up from where it had fallen and actually applauded. "Amazing. Truly impressive. Did you learn that or is it a gift?"

"No, I was born that way. Useful though."

"I'll say." Scrimgeour gazed at her with real respect. "It was a lot better than I could do with a wand, and I've had decades of practice at it."

"Decades?" asked Tonks. She was annoyed to find she felt slightly overawed by that. "How long have you been an Auror, Cassius?"

He looked thoughtful. "I suppose it depends on how you count it, really. I retired from the Department after You-Know-Who fell - I thought I'd done my bit by then. But when -- well, when my wife died a couple of years ago I asked to come back." A bleak look crossed his face briefly, but then he smiled again. "So you can think of me as the wise old head of the Department or the oldest newcomer in the business. Whichever you prefer."

"How does everyone else think of you?" The question slipped out before Tonks could stifle it. She bit her lip.

A rather sad smile played across Scrimgeour's face this time. "They don't quite know what to do with me, Tonks. I'm sure they think I'm hopelessly old-fashioned, but since I was fighting dark wizards before most of them were even born, they can't really say too much. So ... I'm tolerated. They let me see the stuff coming in and investigate things I think deserve a closer look, and they attach me to cases on an ad hoc basis when they think my experience might come in useful. It's still better than sitting at home brooding." He raised his eyebrows again. "And I really don't know why I'm boring you with all this. My apologies." He gave her a little bow.

Tonks smiled. It seemed she'd struck lucky with her new partner - he really was a decent sort. "Cassius, I don't mind at all. Honest. Old-fashioned is fine by me." Her smile widened into a grin. "Even if you do talk a bit like an Edwardian gentleman, you old rogue."

"Well, I was an Edwardian gentleman." Seeing the puzzled expression on Tonks' face, he added, "I joined the Department back in ... just a moment, it must have been ... good grief, 1909. Time flies, seems like yesterday sometimes."

She had to ask. "Cassius, how old are you?"

"One hundred and five." He grinned again.

Tonks knew that she must look astonished, but she couldn't do anything about that. "You don't look it," she said finally. "Even for a wizard."

"Still in my prime, I like to think, but a trifle late to be starting a career, is it not?"

"Um." There wasn't really a good answer to that. Cassius wasn't old exactly, not for a wizard, but as far as she knew (which, admittedly, wasn't very far) it was definitely rather unusual for anyone to come back as an Auror after a decade's retirement. He must have had to really work hard to bring his skills back to the required level.

With that thought, it suddenly dawned on her where she'd seen him before. He'd dropped into a few of their training classes, sitting right at the back of the lecture hall and taking notes. Everyone had just assumed he was some kind of Ministry assessor checking on the lecturers.

He was still chatting pleasantly: "We were quite the genteel family back then. Actually, my parents weren't too pleased with me when I joined up; they thought the job rather unbecoming for a Scrimgeour. You had to start in the ordinary Magical Law Enforcement Patrol in those days and work your way up, you see, but by the time I made it to Auror they'd become used to the idea. Once I started to do well for myself, one or two of the younger ones in the family were persuaded to follow me into the Department and make a career of it." There was a twinkle in his eye again. "In fact, it's quite disconcerting to see how far they've progressed in the time I was away. My great-nephew Rufus is actually senior to me now -- he's at Claymore's level, head of the Northern Division up in Edinburgh. It would have been rather embarrassing if I'd been assigned there, especially as we haven't always got along that well, frankly. And he might have agreed with you about 'rogue'. Bit of an all-round black sheep of the family, that's me."

Tonks smiled again, but only to herself. She couldn't help taking that with a large grain of salt. In her experience (which was definitely more extensive than on the details of Auror career paths) it was the gentlemanly types like Cassius who always liked to think of themselves as being terrible rascals, despite all evidence to the contrary. On the other hand, she liked him, so she wasn't going to hurt his feelings by saying so.

"Well, I'll have to bear that in mind then. Anyway, er, shouldn't I be reading up about something? I don't want to get into trouble on my first day here."

"Oh of course!" Cassius consulted his watch - a very Edwardian-looking one on a chain, rather than a wristwatch - then shook his head.. "Actually, it's half-past four already, so it can wait until tomorrow now. I'll bring in my notes and you can go through them in the morning. I have to go and talk to a couple of people about the case anyway. Just settle in and put your stuff away." With another small bow, he strolled round the corner of the row of cubicles and out of sight.

Tonks sat down and looked around at her new cubicle. It was made of polished oak, with an adequate amount of working surface, a row of pigeonholes, and a few drawers under the desk part. It seemed a bit bare next to Scrimgeour's (which was covered with wizarding photographs, apparently of his family) but she had plenty of time to fix that. She grinned; it was finally starting to sink in what she'd achieved.

Auror Tonks, she thought happily. You made it girl. You finally made it.


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3. The Liquor of Jacmel

Tuesday, 7th July 1994

Tonks Apparated into the Ministry the following morning at a more normal hour. After getting the first day out of the way, her nerves had settled back close to their usual level, and this time round she managed to avoid flattening anyone on her way to the lifts.

She picked up a copy of the Daily Prophet from a newsstand in the foyer, and skimmed through it as she rode up to the second level. The front page headline screamed "SIRIUS BLACK EVADES AURORS AGAIN!" and underneath that, 'special correspondent' Rita Skeeter had written a polemic editorial. Since she clearly had no information beyond the initial report, it was short on facts but long on rhetoric, taking the entire Department to task for failing to catch him the day before despite reports that he'd been spotted practically under their noses in London.

Tonks shivered. Thirteen years before, it had been hard to believe that her cousin -- her uncle, for all practical purposes -- would have betrayed his best friend and tried to kill his baby son. The recent reports that he'd tried to kill him again now the child was -- what, about fourteen? -- were like an old, half-forgotten wound that had suddenly reopened.

Not that this latest headline actually means much, she thought. They've spotted him somewhere every day for the past month since he escaped from Hogwarts.

Cassius was nowhere in sight when she arrived at her cubicle, but he had left a note:

"Dear Tonks

Here are the notes that I promised you. My apologies for forgetting to bring them in yesterday. You should read the Ministry's briefing on the Liquor of Jacmel first, and then my memo to Claymore. The other reports are for background information if you need it.

Good luck!

Yours faithfully,
Cassius."

Tonks picked up the stack of parchment, most of which looked slightly tatty, and had apparently been roughly produced with a Duplication Charm. She lifted the top sheet off the pile and began to read carefully:

MINISTRY OF MAGIC

Department of Magical Law Enforcement

Hall of Records

LIQUOR OF JACMEL

The Liquor of Jacmel, sometimes known as

Aqua Jacmelis or in the vernacular as the 'Poor Wizard's Imperius', is a traditional potion recorded as brewed around the town of that name in Haiti for at least two hundred years. It is rarely encountered in this country, as it is not only illegal in all civilised wizarding communities, but the precise ingredients and method of manufacture have always been kept a close secret by those Haitian dark wizards and witches skilled in its production.

Analysis has shown it to contain the venom of the puffer fish, and it appears to require extracts of certain magical plants that are found only on the island of Hispaniola. The brewing procedure is completely unknown; although experiments attempting to reproduce it have been officially sanctioned by various Ministries of Magic from time to time, none have been noticeably successful.

Tonks wasn't particularly surprised at that. At school the Potions master had repeatedly drilled it into his NEWT class that potion-making was a supremely skilled art, and that it usually took many years of patient research to develop new ones from scratch, even if you were sure that you had all the right ingredients. (She'd once landed herself in detention by remarking -- in an insufficiently soft voice -- that clearly no-one had ever bothered to develop a potion to clean greasy hair.)

She'd never been to Jacmel itself, but she did remember visiting Port-au-Prince during her travels, and she could easily believe that the recipe for the potion wouldn't be known to outsiders. The local wizarding community had been a close-mouthed lot, barely willing to give you the time of day let alone their secret recipes.

As the common name suggests, the effects of the potion are very similar to those of the Imperius curse. However, while casting an Imperius curse successfully requires considerable magical ability, strength of purpose, and usually a lengthy period of training, the Liquor of Jacmel requires no skill at all to use. It is merely necessary for the user to dissolve a physical fragment taken from their body in the potion -- a few drops of blood are considered most powerful and effective, but a nail clipping or some hairs will suffice -- and persuade the victim to drink it. As the final potion is pale in colour with only a slight sweetish taste, and experiments have shown that it may be diluted up to seventeen times without losing its effectiveness, this can easily be accomplished by slipping a dose into a glass or cup of some conventional beverage.

Tonks raised her eyebrows. Another thing she'd learnt from NEWT class was that physical fragment potions were very often classified as Dark Magic because of their powerful effects -- even Polyjuice was borderline -- and this one seemed particularly high up the darkness scale.

As the potion has no effect when drunk unless it contains someone

else's physical fragment, merely drinking from the same cup or bottle offers no safety against a Jacmel attack. Aurors who have to frequent establishments of a questionable nature should not of course fall victim to such an attack, as they should always practice constant vigilance against any attempts to poison or otherwise incapacitate them. It may be advisable to avoid actually consuming drinks served to them in such a situation -- the more advanced Transfiguration techniques can be of great assistance here.

Tonks snorted. As advice went, this was right up there with 'Never tickle a sleeping dragon' under the heading of 'Blindingly Obvious'.

A witch or wizard who has consumed a dose of

Aqua Jacmelis will start to suffer the effects within approximately fifteen minutes to half an hour. They will initially feel light-headed and disoriented, and this may easily be confused with the onset of ordinary alcoholic intoxication. In this state, however, they will be extremely suggestible to the person whose physical fragment was added to the potion, and will normally obey any instructions that this person gives to them. The effect lasts approximately twenty-four to forty-eight hours, depending on the victim and on the strength of the potion, and so Dark wizards who intend to keep their victim controlled for an extended period will normally order them to consume a fresh dose every day.

Those who have taken the potion will go about their business as usual if instructed to do so, but with a generally unfocused air, and will usually appear forgetful and distracted. When the potion has worn off, their recollections of what they have done while under the influence of the potion will generally at best be no more than vague, dreamlike impressions, and not uncommonly they will be unable to remember anything at all that has occurred from the time that they first took the potion.

That all rang a faint bell. Tonks' Muggle lore was a lot sketchier than it should be, but she had a hazy recollection that they had a name for it. She kept reading.

The mental state is similar to that of the Imperius curse, and it is possible for the victim to fight it in the same way. In fact, in many cases the effects are somewhat easier to successfully overcome than an Imperius curse, as these can be very strong, and do not wear off within a short space of time. Idiosyncratic reactions vary, however, and experiments have shown that some wizards can resist

Imperio more successfully. On the other hand, Imperius curses when identified can be lifted by a skilled Healer, while no actual antidote to the Liquor of Jacmel has yet been discovered; although the consumption of salt or meat has been found to be of some minor assistance in helping the victim throw off the effects. If the victim is nevertheless unable to do this, they must be kept under restraint until the potion wears off.

Victims of the potion are commonly known among local Muggles as 'zombies', and a number of fanciful legends about their nature exist, which are naturally encouraged by the Haitian herbologists who make the potion. The concept of the 'zombie' has spread in corrupted form to general Muggle culture outside of the island, in which victims are frequently portrayed as belonging to the undead (although they bear no relation to vampires or ghosts), and attempting to attack or consume the living. This view of 'zombies' is very similar to the corpses reanimated by Dark Magic that wizards know as Inferi, and it is therefore unwise to use the term without specifying precisely what is being referred to.

That was it. Zombies. Now that she thought about it, Tonks realised that she'd actually seen stuff like that. Her father was Muggleborn and a great fan of the -- movers, wasn't it? No, movies. When she was a child he'd often watched them on the television set; he brought home these little black boxes which he then plugged into what was apparently the latest Muggle gadget. She'd liked the television set. It had always been quite impressive to see Muggle moving pictures.

She'd been allowed to watch some of them with him; but he'd always refused to let her watch the 'horror films', even when (as kids do) she'd insisted vehemently that she wasn't scared. Of course, he never realised that she'd sneaked some of them out of the box and watched while he was away at work.

Both she and her father had been partially right. The films had been frightening, and she'd ended up watching some of them from behind the sofa through the fingers pressed over her eyes. But compared to what You-Know-Who and his crowd were doing at the time -- where the walking corpses had once been real people -- they hadn't caused her anywhere near as many nightmares.

Extended exposure to the potion can be highly dangerous. Victims who have been under control for several months can develop serious mental illnesses, including an inability to recognise those they know, loss of coherent speech, and extreme general lassitude. In some cases the effects can be fatal.

Liquor of Jacmel is defined as a Class A Non-Tradeable Good under British wizarding law (Regulation of Dangerous Substances Act 1932). The maximum sentences laid down by the Wizengamot are twelve months imprisonment for its possession, ten years for its sale, and life for its use. (It is considered notionally equivalent to the use of an Unforgivable Curse, although the penalties above are not mandatory, and sentences in previous cases have largely depended on what the victim of the potion has been forced to do.) A sentence of twenty years imprisonment for its manufacture is also on the books, but no-one has ever been prosecuted on this charge for obvious reasons.

No kidding, thought Tonks. And Cassius wants me to go looking for this stuff? Not exactly starting me off small, are they? What a first case! Not that she was complaining; she could have been assigned to something a lot less interesting.

It is seldom available on the general wizarding black market in European countries, although a small-scale but continuous trade exists to the United States. The Haitian

Département de Magie reports that the wizards who brew the potion tend to be suspicious of outsiders, and exports are seldom arranged unless they have developed a good personal relationship with the buyer. Where found, street prices tend to be high, averaging 20 Galleons a dose.

Tonks raised her eyebrows at this. Not cheap, then. She picked up the bottom piece of parchment, which was the report from Cassius that he'd mentioned in his note. Apparently the Department's verbose crib sheet was in need of revision:

As requested, I have investigated the possible use of

Aqua Jacmelis in several crimes reported recently. Five cases have now been identified in which I feel that there is a strong possibility that it was employed. A common feature of these reports is that the victims have no recollection of what they were doing for a period of some 24 hours, but were definitely not under an Imperius curse when interviewed.

I have examined all the potential witnesses that I could find, but none can remember an opportunity when such a curse could have been cast on or lifted from the victims without being seen -- in four of the cases, there seems to have been no-one else present when the mental fog lifted. In any case, there are relatively few wizards with the ability to use the Imperius curse effectively, as training in its use is not generally available.

In all these cases, however, the victims had recently attended a party or other social event at which it would have been easy to poison their cup unnoticed. Unfortunately, there appear to be no witnesses to this either.

She silently cursed at this. It would have been optimistic to ask, but witnesses would certainly have helped. Then again, if there had been any, the case might have been wrapped up before she ever joined the Department.

In the first identified case, some four months ago, the victim was told to remove the wards protecting a rare and valuable 18th century Flemish enchanted harpsichord which had been charmed to play compositions in the styles of the leading performers of its day, thus allowing it to be removed from the premises (it has yet to be recovered).

In two further cases within the last month the potion was used to force people to empty their vaults at Gringotts, the perpetrators getting away with over five thousand Galleons in each case.

The remaining two uses were more worrying still. In one case, it seems that it may have been used to allow a witch to be taken advantage of. I have been unable to interview her as she decided to leave the country in the aftermath of this incident to stay with relatives in New Zealand.

In the final and most recent case, the use of the potion took an even darker turn. The victim was apparently ordered to kill someone -- presumably an enemy of the user of the potion -- and only narrowly failed in their attempt when an Auror who happened to be present intervened.

Tonks shivered slightly. Obviously, Cassius hadn't been joking when he expressed concern about her being thrown in at the deep end. From what she'd read so far, she couldn't see why the Department didn't have a whole task force on the case.

The last of the cases above is especially significant as the man concerned -- a Mr Benjamin Farley of Manchester -- fell into Auror hands for investigation before there was any possibility of the criminal taking action to conceal what they had done.

Mr Farley attacked one Mackenzie Ashford, a successful wizarding merchant, with a knife when the latter was making his way home across Clapham Common. Fortunately, the area where Mr Ashford lives is home to a number of wizards. Auror Donnacha O'Gregan happened to be visiting a friend who lived nearby, heard the commotion, and was able to prevent Mr Farley from succeeding with his murder attempt.

When the assigned case wizards -- O'Gregan and Auror Arnold Cornworthy -- noticed the general state of Mr Farley, who seemed to have difficulty concentrating even when it was pointed out to him that the penalty for attempted murder was a long sentence in Azkaban, they handed him over to the departmental curse breakers.

As you will see from their report

--

She flicked through the sheets of parchment again when she read this, and found a long and technical-looking document she hadn't noticed before. She put it aside to read later.

-- when the normal methods proved unable to lift a curse, they hypothesised the use of a potion and carried out the appropriate tests. Their conclusion is that it is at least 95% likely that the active substance affecting Mr Farley was Liquor of Jacmel.

Mr Farley recovered within the next few hours and claimed to have no recollection of what he had done. Subsequent investigations have shown that although he has a fairly extensive criminal record for trading in stolen goods, he has no discernable connection with Mr Ashford.

Given the unusual circumstances of the case, case wizards Aurors O'Gregan and Cornworthy have applied to the Wizengamot for a Veritaserum warrant, with the consent of Farley's legal adviser. They will inform me if any progress is made.

Tonks raised her eyebrows again at this. Although the Auror candidates had been trained in the use of Veritaserum, she'd never been present at a 'live' interrogation. That wasn't too surprising; the trainers had informed them that warrants were frequently hard to get.

It seems clear to me that over the last few months, the availability of Liquor of Jacmel in Britain may have increased sharply. Five cases in a few months is far above the normal rate (only four other cases have been reported since 1981). Although I have as yet been unable to track down anyone involved in the trade, inquiries among the Department's informants reveal that there are some rumours in criminal circles to the effect that a potion of this kind may be available. None of them admit to knowing any more about this, but all concur that there have been no hints of foreign dark wizards attempting to expand their criminal activities.

Although the number of possible uses actually recorded is still small, this is a worrying development, as the cases mentioned above could be just the tip of the iceberg. The potion is much easier to use than an Imperius Curse, and its nature makes cases difficult to prove.

I feel strongly that this case should be given a higher priority, and request additional full-time assistance. If possible, it should be someone with strong skills in Concealment and Disguise, as it seems that 'undercover' work is the best, indeed even the only viable, option that we have.

Auror Cassius Scrimgeour

Department of Magical Law Enforcement

Central Division

Tonks smiled at the rather Edwardian rash of underlining that had broken out in Cassius' last few paragraphs (presumably old habits died hard when he was rushing to finish a report) and picked up the remaining documents to glance through. The Farley case was represented by a summary report of the events of the night in question from O'Gregan, and a transcript of Farley's claims, which basically boiled down to 'I don't know nothin'!' She deduced from this that the warrant probably hadn't been granted yet.

She read through the papers several times, including the technical reports, then sat back and whistled quietly. It was clear from Cassius' final request exactly why Claymore had assigned her to the investigation. It was scary, but it was one hell of a case -- and one hell of an opportunity -- to be starting her career with. She'd expected to be doing something much simpler for the first few months, like guard duty, or casting security spells on Ministry property, or providing backup for the Werewolf Capture Unit.

She looked around the room for Cassius, but he wasn't anywhere to be seen. On a sudden inspiration she picked up her phone again and called him.

"Hello, Tonks." The mirror hadn't opened out this time, and she shook the phone a couple of times before realising with embarrassment that the voice was coming from behind her. She turned to see him looking over at her from the other side of the cubicle partitions with an amused expression on his face. Of course, O'Gregan and Cornworthy work over there, he must have been discussing the warrant with them. Idiot. "Would I be right to assume you're ready to start work then?"

"Er ... as ready as I'll ever be, I suppose."

"Excellent! This afternoon, we'll discuss things we can do while waiting on the Wizengamot. I've just been talking things over with Donnacha and Arnold, and they'll keep us informed of any developments at their end. But first I have to introduce you to a vital part of Auror work they won't have taught you about in training."

"What's that?"

"Lunch. It's your first real day on the job, so it's my treat."

***

Lunch proved to be rather entertaining -- Cassius Scrimgeour had a vast number of past cases to tell stories about, and Tonks listened in fascination. Unfortunately, the afternoon discussion about things they could do didn't go entirely according to her hopes and expectations. Despite the fact that he'd asked for Tonks' kind of help, it quickly became clear that he wasn't at all happy about asking her to stick out her neck so soon.

"Er ... what's the problem, Cassius?" she said, puzzled and slightly exasperated, as he shook his head at one of her suggestions for the third or fourth time.

"It's a big risk, Tonks," he said. "We don't usually send people into the firing line on their first week in the job. Well, we didn't in my day, anyway. Claymore has his own ideas, of course, but that doesn't mean I always agree with them."

"It's not too bad an idea though, is it?" said Tonks, hopefully. "Just morph myself into somebody anonymous-looking, ask around the Knockturn Alley part of town without being too obvious about it, and hope to ask the right question of the right person."

"That's always a risk," he said sternly. "You might ask the wrong question of the wrong person, and there are lots of little nooks and crannies along the street where people could hide and hit you with a Stunner from behind before you even know they're there. Aurors always have to use great caution when they wander down there. I haven't done it on this case so far, and even I wouldn't want to chance it without having backup nearby, just in case."

"But ..."

"No, no buts, Tonks. It's a dangerous place for inexperienced people. For that matter, it can be a dangerous place for experienced people under the wrong circumstances. I want to emphasise that as much as I possibly can."

Tonks sat back slightly and looked at him, trying to decide on her next argument. "But I won't ever get that experience if I don't try, will I?" she said reasonably. "I can understand you're not enthusiastic about sending a ... well, a neophyte alone into Dark Wizard Central. I'm a bit nervous about the idea myself, to be honest. But I've no intention of sticking my hand up in the middle of Knockturn Alley and shouting 'Hey, anyone know where I can buy Liquor of Jacmel?'. I mean, give me some credit."

He looked at her with obvious misgivings. "Very true, very true. But ... you are new, Tonks, let's face it, and you don't have the contacts to fall back on yet. You'd be going in cold. And it can be very slow and frustrating work when you're starting from scratch."

"Hey, I can handle slow and frustrating," she said, grinning. "And ... to be honest mate, it's do this sort of thing or resign, isn't it?"

He hesitated. "I must admit, I was actually hoping they'd assign me one of the wizards I worked with first time around. People who've done undercover work before and have the right kind of experience."

"Wizards?" she asked gently. To do him credit, she got the impression that his objections were more to do with her newness on the job than her gender, although she privately thought he must have been taught to be protective of the womenfolk in that Edwardian upbringing of his. At any rate, he looked chagrined and slightly annoyed with himself when she said it

"Or witches. I don't ... " He threw up his hands in resignation. "Oh, I suppose ... I've just got out the habit of sending people into danger, Tonks. I had to do far too much of that during the war." He hesitated, then seemed to come to a decision and looked her straight in the eyes. "I'm sorry, all right? My problem, not yours, and I have to buck my ideas up now I'm back." He grinned. "I did want somebody more experienced, yes, but it doesn't look like Claymore's ever going to give me that anyway, so welcome to the team. Will you accept my apology?"

Tonks grinned back at him, breathing a silent sigh of relief. "Of course, mate. And" -- here she hesitated, but she knew this was going to be as good a time as any to say what she had to say -- "well, I have done a little bit of this sort of thing before. When I did my time out travelling I'm afraid I was just bluffing my way around the world a lot of the time. Nothing too bad, obviously," she added hastily, "but I'm glad Claymore didn't ask me questions about some of the scrapes I got into."

"Oh, I see." Scrimgeour looked as if he was undecided whether to be alarmed or relieved at this news, and settled on relieved. He smiled. "So, what's our plan then?"

Tonks looked at him thoughtfully. "Well, I did have one idea, to sort of start us off. Tell me if it's complete rubbish and would never work in practice, but ..."


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4: Little Mrs Anonymous

Thursday, July 23rd 1994

Tonks wandered slowly through the shops and street vendors of Knockturn Alley. Her lack of speed wasn't due to any great fascination with the wares on view; it was mainly because she was taking great care where she put her feet. It wasn't much use being able to change your form, if your habit of tripping over things gave you away.

Her choice of appearance today was a middle-aged woman with anonymous features and a defeated look in her eyes. It hadn't impressed her mirror much, but business was business.

She stopped every now and again to inquire about the prices of various potion ingredients. She hoped that someone would notice the ones she expressed an interest in, put two and two together, and come up with an answer that was more than four.

She'd been doing this every two or three days during her first couple of weeks on the job.

They were following a rough plan, hatched after long discussion with Scrimgeour that first afternoon. He'd gently pointed out some of the more obvious weaknesses in her ideas, and absolutely insisted on a backup procedure. She'd promised to make use of the panic buttons K had supplied if necessary, with Cassius posted nearby in Diagon Alley in case she hit trouble.

She stared at a shop across the street, which had an unpleasant-looking window display of mummified dragon hatchlings. A sour-faced wizard examining them gave her a challenging look, and she dropped her gaze and looked away timidly, staying in character.

An indirect approach had clearly been required, since walking up to people and asking if they knew anyone willing to sell her illicit mind control potions would be suspicious behaviour even in Knockturn Alley. Cassius explained that he'd already spoken guardedly to several wizards and witches on the fringes of the magical underworld who occasionally passed on information to the Aurors, but none of them had been willing to take the risk of helping him out by introducing someone 'undercover'.

The version of Tonks' idea they eventually decided on was that she would act the part of a somewhat desperate witch without obvious physical advantages; reduced to attempting to concoct legally dubious Love Potions to keep her husband from straying. She would, supposedly, be seeking the necessary ingredients well away from conventional stores where she might be 'seen by her neighbours'. If Tonks could establish this character, and then on subsequent visits give the impression that her potions weren't working, there was an outside chance that someone might suggest she try something stronger.

And even if no-one took the bait -- which seemed more and more likely to her the longer she spent in this dingy place -- well, at least if she kept her eyes and ears open she'd learn something about what was going on in Knockturn Alley and its offshoots. Cassius had agreed that that was always useful background knowledge for an Auror. A Sense-Enhancing Potion taken beforehand improved her chances of overhearing muttered conversations, although nothing she'd heard so far was of any great value. Unfortunately, it also enhanced her sense of smell, giving her the full benefit of the many noxious odours of the Alley.

OK, she thought as none of the shopkeepers she met seemed to give her a second glance, so this isn't necessarily a great plan, but what the hell. It's the best we can do for the moment. She reminded herself sternly that at least it was getting her started on the job, while they were waiting for the Wizengamot to make up their minds on the Farley case. Cassius had warned her not to expect early results there either. Few of their decisions were made quickly, and getting Veritaserum warrants in particular was always a tortuous process.

She shook herself. Standing in one place in Knockturn Alley daydreaming was not a smart idea. She was already attracting a few suspicious glances from the hard-eyed wizards standing on the corners where even narrower alleyways branched off. So she continued to wander, looking in at likely shops, asking the price of milkweed sap, powdered Glowthorn, or dragonfly wings, always being careful to inquire about two or three different ingredients needed for the potion, and making a few purchases for effect when the price seemed reasonable within the rather modest budget she'd been allocated.

One of the many drawbacks of her plan, of course, was that she couldn't be too obvious. So when today, somebody finally connected the dots, she was actually taken aback.

"Ashwinder eggs?" asked a shop assistant with a leer. He was behind the counter of a grubby little shop halfway down the road, with a faded sign above the door saying J.W.Wells, Dealer in Magic and Spells. "Whaddya want those for then, love?"

Tonks pretended to consult a shopping list scrawled on a piece of parchment. "Oh, er, touch of the ague," she said in a nervous voice.

The wizard gazed at her disbelievingly, but didn't make any comment. "Well, we got 'em in stock," he said. "Six Galleons each, though."

"Six Galleons each?!" Tonks was honestly surprised. She'd never needed to buy the eggs herself, for curing ague or any other reason, but that much gold per egg seemed excessive.

"Not easy to get," said the assistant with a shrug. "Takes a long time, and you gotta be careful you don't get your 'ouse burned to cinders. Could do you a discount on five or more?"

Tonks let her face fall, shook her head, and turned away with a crestfallen look. Her budget didn't stretch to actually spending serious money for the sake of her role.

"Hang on, love." He hesitated. "Look, you can make your own, you know? Might work out cheaper if Galleons are a bit tight for you."

Tonks looked at him in surprise, and said, in a fluttery sort of voice, "Oh. It's, er, very kind of you to suggest it." And rather suspicious, too. Can't be good for business, can it?

The assistant seemed to realise what she was thinking, and grinned. "Hey, it's not my shop, I'm just minding it for old Wellsey while he's away sunning 'imself in the Caribbean, and the sod don't pay me on commission. Do you know how you create Ashwinders?"

"Er, not really." (Actually, Tonks knew perfectly well, Professor Kettleburn having demonstrated the procedure one day in a memorable Care of Magical Creatures lesson at school. But on the whole she didn't think Little Mrs Anonymous would.)

"Well, if you never tried it before, don't, unless you got proper instructions. The boss tried it out back there once, nearly burnt the bloody place down. Stupid git didn't know how long to leave the fire burning, nipped out to the khazi and didn't notice the trail when he got back. Only just caught the eggs in time. He never done that again."

Tonks instinctively started to grin mischievously, realised that it wasn't really in character in time to catch herself, and hastily turned her expression into a wan smile instead.

"That's the spirit, love. Look, I won't ask what you want 'em for, though I reckon I can guess. You're not the first bird who's ever asked." He leered again. "Get yourself a book about it, that's my advice."

"Oh, right." Tonks instinctively glanced up the road in the general direction of Flourish & Blotts, then bit her lip. She hoped that this small gesture might somehow convey the impression of a woman who didn't want to be seen in public buying books from the morally questionable sections.

To her surprise, the assistant looked at her with a sort of amused sympathy. Well, well. Maybe I've got unexpected skills as a mime. "Look, if you don't mind goin' a bit further out than the Alley, try Islington. Little bookshop on Kitchener Street, the woman who runs it has all sorts of old books, and most of 'em are pretty cheap. Found some really interesting potion ideas in there." He winked. "Just let 'er know you're not a Muggle and she'll let you in the back room. Bound to find something, ain'tcha?"

"Thank you!" The thanks were genuine, as was the surprise she was feeling. She lived in Islington, had grown up in Islington, but she'd never heard of a wizarding bookshop in Kitchener Street or anywhere else. The wizard winked at her again, and Tonks sidled out thoughtfully as he turned to deal with another customer..

She realised that she hadn't been watching where she was going when she bumped into an elderly man who was striding down the middle of the street, accompanied by a stringy teenage boy who looked exceptionally bored. She hastily stepped back to let them pass, and watched surreptitiously as they disappeared from sight around a bend in the alley. She shrugged and walked on. The older wizard was obviously in a great hurry to get somewhere, which didn't bode well; but wherever he was going and whatever he would be doing when he got there, she wasn't going to find out by staring at where he'd been.

She made it to the end of Knockturn Alley without further incident. Out on the main street, she blended into the lunchtime crowds, and was able to slip into the ladies loos without anybody paying her the slightest attention. She was able to transfigure her clothes into a slightly different style, cast a quick Colour Change charm on them, then emerge with her normal face and figure and electric-blue hair.

Scrimgeour was waiting at a table outside Florian Fortescue's, largely concealed under a heavy travelling cloak and with a couple of empty ice-cream sundae glasses already next to him. Tonks sympathised with him; it must have been sheer hell in that cloak in the summer heat. Fortescue's had proved as good a place as any to meet on these occasions, given the importance of lunch in the practice of law enforcement, a principle with which Tonks found herself entirely in agreement.

"Well, young lady, did you find anything today?" he asked quietly with his usual polite smile.

"Not really," replied Tonks, equally quietly. "Didn't even see anything too illegal. I mean, obviously there were people selling stuff like Tentacula seeds and Disrobing Glasses, and there was the usual batch of poisons, but that's not exactly a crime wave, is it? I did get a strange hint from a lad in one of the stores, though."

"Oh yes?" said Scrimgeour with interest. "What did he say?"

"Might not mean anything, but he said there's a place that sells old wizard books near where I live. It must be hidden behind an ordinary Muggle bookshop, I should think. From what he said, and the way he said it, I wouldn't be surprised if some of the stuff they sell is a bit ... well, dodgy."

Scrimgeour considered this briefly. "Islington, isn't it? I've never heard of one there, but then I never had reason to pass through very often. Er, no offence meant, Tonks."

"None taken." She didn't bother to mention that she'd actually grown up in one of the 'posher' parts of Islington. Her father Ted had a good job in Gringotts, and her mother Andromeda had somehow managed to retain some of the Black family fortune even after they threw her out. Tonks had always suspected her great-uncle Alphard might have had something to do with it.

I wonder why I never spotted it though? she thought. She'd explored the whole area thoroughly in her teens during the school holidays, looking in all the shops, even the ones that had been there before they built that weird spaceship-like business centre right in the middle of the main street. She'd imagined that she knew everything worth knowing about the place, but it seemed that wasn't true. She knew she'd taken advantage of her parents' new-found indulgence after the fall of You-Know-Who. As a younger kid they'd rarely allowed her to stray too far, especially into Islington's less salubrious areas, in case there were Dark Wizards on the corner waiting to curse her. Come to think of it, in those days there could have been. Quite possibly her aunt and uncle.

Tonks nibbled at her ice-cream. "Cassius," she said thoughtfully. "No offence meant here, either, but why is it just you and me on this case?"

Scrimgeour looked at her with a quizzical expression.

"Well, it's a bit worse than just Apparating without due care and attention, isn't it?" she said. "I mean, if this stuff becomes common, it could cause a boatload of trouble for the Ministry. Why aren't they taking it seriously?"

He sighed. "Tonks, Claymore let me look into this solely because I nagged him about it when I heard about the Gringotts cases. And I think that was mainly to give me something to do. I came across the potion before, you see, when I was on exchange in America for a while. Nasty stuff, caused the American MIB's -- sorry, that's Magical Investigation Bureau agents -- a lot of trouble twenty-odd years ago. Our Ministry only started to take me seriously when the curse-breaker chaps said the potion was used in the Farley case and showed I was right. This past year, they've been so obsessed with catching Sirius Black and preparing for the World Cup, they haven't really been paying proper attention to anything else."

Tonks winced internally at the mention of Sirius, but didn't say anything. She wasn't sure how much Cassius, or her fellow-Aurors in general, had been told about her family background, and she didn't feel like mentioning it now in case some of them didn't know. Despite Claymore's assurances, she felt sure that having a mass murderer as a cousin wasn't going to make her popular with her colleagues, especially whoever it was that was allocated to the case. She'd already noticed one or two of them whispering when she walked by, and that -- Shacklebury? -- bloke always looked at her suspiciously.

Scrimgeour was looking down at the table gloomily, and apparently hadn't noticed any reaction on Tonks' part. "I don't think they really believe this Jacmel potion could be a severe problem in Britain, you know. It's only that one case where it was definitely employed, after all; it's just a hypothesis in the others. A pretty convincing hypothesis, mind you -- I don't know of any other potions that have those precise effects -- but there you have it."

"But that's ridiculous!" said Tonks indignantly. "Surely they have to make a bit more effort to stop that sort of thing before it really gets started?"

Scrimgeour snorted and shook his head. "That's the trouble with the current Ministry people. They're complacent, they don't listen if you tell them there might be something dangerous on the horizon. We've become slack since the war ended, I'm afraid." He scowled. " If You-Know-Who himself did come back, they wouldn't believe it unless he took out a full-page advertisement in the Daily Prophet."

Tonks shuddered slightly. "Don't say that."

Her colleague looked her in surprise. "Can you actually remember the first time around, then?"

"Oh yes." Scrimgeour continued to stare at her, and she reluctantly elaborated. "I was only a kid in the war, but even kids pick up on a lot of the stuff that goes on, you know. I used to listen to my mum and dad when they didn't know I could hear them. They would have these whispered discussions about what the Death Eaters said they were going to do to people they didn't like, Muggle-borns and half-bloods and " -- here her voice took on a bitter edge -- "blood traitors. Well, that just about sums up me and my parents. It was pretty scary."

He looked at her apologetically. "I didn't think, Tonks, sorry. It must be your father who was Muggle-born, then?"

Tonks' eyebrows rose. "Yes, but how can you tell?"

"Well, just from your name, really. Exercising the deductive powers for which we Aurors are famous." Noticing Tonks' eyebrows rise even further, he hastily added, "You said your mother named you from a wizarding book she read as a child, so I assumed that she must come from a wizarding family. And Tonks isn't a name I've ever heard before, and I know most of the old pure-blood families. I come from one of them, after all."

"So does my mother. You don't object to Muggle ancestry, I hope?" she said with a slight challenge in her voice. Her partner looked horrified. In fact, Tonks could have sworn that, for a fleeting moment, deep hurt had shown on his face.

"No, Tonks, I don't. I never have. Oh, when I was growing up my family used to think I was a bit odd with all my Muggle and Muggle-blood friends, but I never much cared about that. And at least most of the younger members -- by which I mean anyone born after about 1930, by the way -- are decent enough not to say anything, even the ones who don't really approve."

It was Tonks' turn to look apologetic. "Sorry, Cassius. No offence meant, eh?"

He smiled. "None taken."

Tonks shook herself. "Oh, well, I suppose we'd better go, so Mr Fortescue can use this space for paying customers. Come on, Cass, I've guess I've got a report to write."

The Apparated back to the Ministry and walked past the fountain towards the gates, Tonks doing so with a pensive air. She didn't often go back over her early childhood days. It wasn't that she didn't remember them. It was more that she remembered them well, and the memories weren't pleasant ones ...

*****

September 1981

Platform 9¾ at King's Cross Station had been in a chaotic state, as it usually was just before the departure of the Hogwarts Express. All around students were frantically dragging trunks onto the train, and their parents were waving tearful goodbyes. The Hit Wizards ringed around the security perimeter were trying to look everywhere and see everything that was going on, with only moderate success.

Tonks had already put on her new uniform and stacked her luggage in one of the carriages, but was now standing half-on, half-off the train, trying not to cry.

"Time for you to get on now, dear," said her mother gently.

The tears were getting harder to stop. "I don't want to, Mum."

"Come on, Princess, chin up," said her father bracingly. "Could be the best time of your life, you know." The first tear trickled down her cheek.

"What's the matter, love?" he said. "Look, once you get there you'll enjoy it. Your mum and me did." This didn't seem to have much effect. "Come on, now, what's up? You can tell your old dad."

The tears started to flow freely now as she threw herself at her parents and hugged them like she never wanted to let go. "I don't want to die there, Dad. I'd rather die at home with you and Mum."

"Don't be silly darling. We'll still be here when you get back," said her mother, making a brave attempt at keeping a positive tone of voice. Tonks looked up in time to see her mother glance over the head of her crying daughter at her husband and bite her lip. Both of them clearly knew their child's fears were entirely justified.

"H -- h -- h -- how do you know?" The words came out jerkily between the sobs. "T -- t -- they hate people like us! I don't want to leave you, Mum! Oh Dad!" She was unashamedly bawling now. Her parents glanced around; this scene was being repeated in several other places around the platform. Some of the children involved looked a lot older than their daughter.

"Princess," said her father kindly. "Princess, listen to me." When that had no effect, he put a finger under her chin and gently lifted her head. "Hey, Katie, listen, eh?"

Tonks looked up in surprise. Her dad didn't usually call her by that pet name in front of her mum, who would normally have been wearing a disapproving expression at this point. This time, though, she made no objection.

"Right, Katie, now listen, kid," said her father quietly. "I don't know all you picked up from the rumours going around, but don't you ever go thinking this war is lost. I'm not going to tell you everything's A-OK, 'cos you're a bright girl and you know it's not, but your mum and me, we've come this far in one piece and nobody's going to get rid of us that easy."

"But -- "

"No, Princess, no buts. We want to know you're safe, too. Now it'll make us a lot easier in our minds if you go off to Hogwarts and have a great time, 'cos no-one's going to dare attack you there. Be a brave girl for your dad, eh?"

Tonks gulped a couple of times, but nodded.

"Good girl." He kissed her once on the forehead, briefly. With a final hug from her mother, Tonks climbed aboard. She was just in time, as the guards slammed the doors shut and blew a long whistle blast. The Hit Wizards on board leaned slightly out of the windows, with their wands resting on the frames, ready to hex anything that even looked like it might attack.

As the train pulled away from the station Tonks looked out of the window at her parents, who were standing on the platform, tightly gripping each others hands. They waved hard at her as the train pulled away out of sight.

She slumped back against the seat, rubbing at her reddened eyes; she couldn't shake off the feeling that they might never see each other again.

From the expressions that had been on their faces as the train left, neither could they.

*****

Thursday, July 23rd 1994

"Tonks?"

She had of course, thank Heaven, but at regular intervals throughout that first term, the word had gone around Hogwarts that a new attack had been reported in the Daily Prophet. Every time that happened, her blood had turned to ice. The relief when she heard from her parents each time had almost literally been like a weight lifted off her heart.

Some of her housemates ... they hadn't been so lucky. The routine had been for the heads of houses to take the relatives of wizards and witches who had been attacked aside at the end of a lesson. Whenever that had happened to someone, they and their friends had hoped against hope that it was only going to be a detention.

"Tonks!"

Hogwarts life itself had otherwise been wonderful. The headmaster had somehow contrived to stay calm throughout, and project complete confidence that the war could be won. She'd never worked out if this was just an exercise in morale-boosting, or if he had really felt that way. Maybe he'd just known something he wasn't telling.

The teachers had kept their students' noses firmly to the grindstone. Schoolwork had actually been a welcome distraction most of the time, although it hadn't stopped her from getting into a lot of trouble. Many of the Slytherins -- and some students from all of the other houses, including her own -- were pure-bloods with relatives who supported the Death Eaters, and she'd got herself involved in a number of serious feuds within her first few weeks. Maybe it had been a form of overcompensation for her fears. Then again, now she looked back on it from an adult perspective, that might just be making excuses for her activities. Even after the fall of You-Know-Who, she'd never exactly behaved herself.

"TONKS! Oy, Dora!"

Tonks started. She spun around in her cubicle seat, knocking a stack of parchment to the floor. Bentley Williamson was grinning at her.

"Lost in thought there, Dora?"

Tonks scowled. "Don't call me Dora!" she snapped. "Don't call me Nymphadora for that matter," she added as an afterthought. "Just Tonks will do fine."

"Ooh, touchy, touchy. I might change my mind about asking you out for a drink now."

"What? Oh sod off, Ben, I'm not in the mood for jokes," she said, irritated, and slightly shaken, at having her thoughts so rudely interrupted..

Williamson smirked at her. "Oh well, worth a try. Actually, I'm off to cast an eye over the Transfigured Toad. Want to take a look?"

Tonks blinked at him for a moment before remembering the name. "The pub just round the corner from Knockturn Alley? What for?"

"Because it's where that bloke Farley was when he got slipped that stuff you and Cassius are working on, remember?" said Williamson patiently. "I've got to go there and see a man about a dog, so I thought you might like to tag along and get the lie of the land."

"Oh. All right then." Tonks picked her half-finished report off the floor, threw it on the desk and got up. "Where is Cassius anyway? "

Williamson shrugged. "Wizengamot Administration Services, I think. Went to chase them up about that warrant. Are you ready?"

"I suppose so. Er, Ben?" said Tonks as a thought struck her. "Are we going in as ourselves, or are we supposed to pretend we're not Aurors?" She glanced at their robes; both of them were wearing the telltale little badge that denoted their status.

"Nah, this is an official visit, so they'll know who we are as soon as I start talking. Anyway, I can't be bothered to make myself look different. Why spoil nature's perfection?" He paused to smirk again and give Tonks time to wince. "You can if you like though. People tend to see straight through Charms down there, and I don't like the feeling of being transfigured much. I always find it gets a bit uncomfortable after a little while."

Tonks grinned at him and turned herself into a thirtyish woman with a round, plump face and shoulder-length brown hair. Williamson gaped at her; obviously, he hadn't been told about her special talent. She sighed.

"I'm a Metamorphmagus, Ben, I can change my appearance at will," she said resignedly, in an I've-said-this-so-many-times-it's-become-a-recitation fashion.

"Wow." Williamson seemed to be struggling to avoid showing how impressed he was, and managed to find a way to joke about it. "Hey, does that mean you could look like anyone? It'll really make me look good when we go in there if you can do me a nice leggy long-haired blonde, you know, blue eyes, big t --"

Tonks could see where this was going, and headed him off quickly. "Stop right there! Ben, I really don't want to know about your personal fetishes, OK?"

"Suit yourself." He grinned, but couldn't quite keep an intrigued look off his face. "Ready then?"

Tonks looked around at the half-finished report on her desk, then shrugged. It could wait until later -- much later, with any luck. "I suppose so. Let's go."

They had to take the lift down to the Ministry foyer; most of the building was warded for security purposes to prevent anyone getting in or out by the usual means, although it was sometimes possible to use them within a level. Tonks could see the point -- it prevented surprise attacks, burglaries, or escapes from the holding cells -- but it was irritatingly inconvenient.

They Disapparated from the foyer and appeared on the corner of Knockturn Alley, ignoring the suspicious looks of the locals, and walked round to the pub. The painted sign outside showed a wizard repeatedly turning a man into a toad; both of them paused in this activity for a moment to watch as Williamson and Tonks went in. He strode through the door without a backward glance; Tonks, hurrying to catch up, knocked over a table near the door and had to apologise to the drinkers sitting there. Fortunately, their natural annoyance at having their drinks spilt was tempered by the sight of her Auror's badge.

She found Williamson arguing with the landlord about some information he'd given him (or hadn't given him -- it wasn't quite clear), and seized the opportunity to look around her.

She'd been in the Hog's Head a few times during Hogsmeade visits, and until now had regarded it as the low point in pub interior décor. However, she quickly decided that the Transfigured Toad made the Hog's Head seem like a luxurious modern pub with shiny new fittings. The lighting was poor enough to make her suspect it had been deliberately dimmed by magic, most of the patrons had their faces concealed and looked so shifty they might just as well have worn signs saying 'Criminal Element' round their necks, and around the walls were a large number of curtained alcoves that looked absolutely ideal for conducting shady business.

A nervous-looking witch emerged from one of them, tucking something into her handbag. Her companion appeared a moment or two later, a skinny hooded wizard, with a scarf over his face that masked most of it from view. He looked at Tonks suspiciously; she followed her training, letting her gaze slide smoothly over to the other side of the pub as if she'd been in the process of turning her head when he looked at her. The trainers had emphasised this: If they've noticed you, you can't do anything about it. Just look elsewhere, and hope they didn't. And don't give away the fact that you were watching by looking back to see how they're taking it! She brought her attention back to Williamson, who was apparently getting nowhere with the landlord.

"Look, Finley, we could close this place down if we wanted to!" he blustered.

"Yeah?" The man behind the bar sneered. "Well, screw you, Auror, and the hippogriff you rode in on. If you've got proof of anything illegal going on here, then arrest somebody. Otherwise, just go back to Ministry-land and polish your wand."

"How about ... the Farley incident?" Williamson snarled at him in obvious frustration. "Dora, you know all about that?"

Tonks wanted to tell him off for calling her Dora, but thought better of it. She wished he hadn't chosen to drag her into this. "Illegal potion," she said, winging it. "Administered here. Can't you keep a closer eye on what your customers do?"

"No," said the landlord flatly. "I just sell drinks. What my customers do is their business, unless they start hexing each other and damage the place. If You-Know-Who ever wanted to drop by for a quick Firewhiskey, that'd be fine by me. As long as he behaved himself and paid his tab."

"Gah." Williamson made a disgusted noise. "We'll be watching you, Finley, don't you make any mistake about that. Come on, Dora, let's get out of here." He stalked out into the street, Tonks following to find him uttering an extravagant stream of swear words.

"Arrogant little toerag," he said, spotting Tonks. "Finley bloody McAllister. He knows what goes on there, we know what goes on there, and he knows we know he knows ... oh whatever. That place has been a meeting place for villains for about twenty years, but have we ever been able to bloody prove anything? No way."

Tonks shivered slightly. Well, the past just seemed to keep catching up with me today. "Twenty years?" she said quietly. "You mean he used to help out You-Know-Who's people? And we haven't put him away in all that time?"

Williamson shook his head. "I don't think he was ever one of their lot," he said fairly. "He was just someone who was willing to turn a blind eye and let them get on with it. McAllister was probably as relieved as anyone else when You-Know-Who got his comeuppance from that little Potter kid. I guess there were plenty of people willing to sell stuff to Death Eaters as long as they could stay out the firing line themselves. I don't like that much, but it's not the same thing."

Tonks looked at him thoughtfully. "Are we watching him? Posting someone there to see what they can spot?"

Williamson's face took on a disillusioned look. "Nah, not worth it really. We don't have anyone we can spare, we've always had more urgent stuff to do." He looked at her. "Why, are you volunteering?"

"Might do. I mean, there are things Cassius wants us to try, and there's a dodgy-sounding shop near me that I'm going to check out tomorrow, but that dump looks like it could stand going higher up the list. I can always drop in there after one of my little jaunts down Knockturn Alley. One condition, though."

"What's that?"

"Don't call me Dora!"


------------------------------------------------------------------------
Feedback thread

5. On The Night In Question

Friday, July 24th 1994

Tonks gazed into the window of the little Islington bookshop with interest. It had been easy to miss, tucked away between a launderette and a shop selling second-hand televisions. There was a neatly painted sign above the door reading "LORE OF YORE. Old and obscure books for the connoisseur. Proprietress Miss Trina Orevel", and the books she could see through the glass certainly seemed to fit that description. If any of them had been published within the last century, she'd eat her pointed hat.

Not that she was wearing one for this sortie into Muggle Islington, of course. She'd donned a faded old blouse and skirt and her Little Mrs Anonymous face. Her mirror hadn't actually thrown up its hands in disgust at this look, but Tonks was sure this was only because, as a mirror, it didn't have any.

She stepped in through the door, which caused something to ring softly, and paused for a moment to take in her surroundings. The place was dimly lit, as this sort of bookshop always seemed to be, and had a pleasantly musty smell. There were only a couple of customers, who were browsing through racks of obscure-looking Victorian novels and biographies of minor historical characters. A thin-faced woman sitting behind a small counter watched her appraisingly.

Tonks wandered casually up to the counter, stopping to look at a couple of volumes for show. "Miss Orevel?" she asked quietly.

"Yes?"

"Do you have any -- erm, more unusual books in stock?" She winked.

The woman at the counter looked at her with narrowed eyes. "In what way unusual?"

"Well -- " This was tricky. Tonks didn't know how to demonstrate the fact that she was a witch without actually doing magic; which was risky since she only had the word of a Knockturn Alley tradesman that this wasn't just a perfectly ordinary Muggle bookshop. She cast about for a suitable reference. "Er -- didn't I see an advert from you in the Daily Prophet?"

The woman looked puzzled for a moment, then her face cleared. "Oh I see. Yes, perhaps that would be a good idea. Come this way, please." She led Tonks down a narrow gap between two high bookshelves, out of sight of the rest of the shop, and pointed to a door at the end. "Through there. Just ring if you need me." She turned and went back to the counter.

Tonks tried the handle, but the door was locked. What do I do now? she wondered. Am I supposed to show I'm allowed in by using an Alohomora charm? She leant against the door to think, and discovered the answer to her questions as she fell straight through it into a back room. Unable to catch herself in time, she cannoned into a book trolley, sending its contents flying, and ended up sprawled on the floor.

The only other occupant of the room, an elderly wizard examining the books in one corner, s******ed at her.

Embarrassed, she picked herself up, levitated the books back onto the trolley, and looked around with surprise and considerable interest. The room was unexpectedly large -- probably magically expanded -- and piled high from floor to ceiling with wizarding books. No doubt the door had enchantments on it to make it impervious to muggles, like the entrance to Platform 9¾. It was invisible from this side; Tonks guessed that this was so customers could tell when it was safe to return to the main part of the shop.

She walked around, looking curiously at the volumes on the shelves. The place appeared to be a repository for all the old and battered books that would normally be found piled into rough heaps in junk shops, but here they were carefully, almost lovingly, classified. There was an entire row of Quidditch yearbooks, some dating back to the 1770s, a bookcase full of dull-looking Wizengamot minutes, and whole sections of books on long-forgotten spells and potions.

Tonks picked out a book or two at random. Substantive Charms of the Polish Magical Renaissance sounded vaguely familiar (possibly Professor Binns had talked about it when she was at school, which would explain why she was vague about it) but it turned out to be printed in Latin, which was enough to discourage her from further investigation of its contents. A slim volume entitled A Horse of a Different Colour proved to be exactly what the title suggested -- instructions for brewing potions that would turn your steed various bright colours, should anyone ever think of a remotely sensible reason for doing so. A Victorian book called Jolly Japes For The Jovial Jinxer looked like fun, but since most of the jolly japes seemed to require their targets to be wearing crinolines or driving carriages, it was understandable that it was now out of print.

She wandered idly along the shelves towards the other customer, noticing wryly in passing that there were several different editions of the accomplishments of the Adventure Club in the children's literature section, and stiffened slightly. This corner appeared to be entirely given over to books about the Dark Arts.

Actually, as she realised when she looked at little more closely, that wasn't entirely fair. There were certainly many books on assorted curses, jinxes, and hexes, but a lot of them could, charitably speaking, be classified under the heading of general combat techniques. And obscure and unpleasant as some of the potions in the books sounded, they were probably technically within the law. Many students in her Auror classes on wizarding law had been surprised to discover that most magic classified as 'Dark Arts' could legally be learnt; even if actual use was frowned upon. Here and there, though, there were volumes any Auror would find alarming.

She removed a book called With Flame and Flood: Curses For Use Against The Many which contained a number of extremely lethal-sounding wide-area spells, and added to it What Lucretia Borgia Never Knew: A Guide To Slow Poisons and a very old copy of something with the title Hunting Muggles For Pleasure and Profit. They weren't exactly her idea of bedtime reading, but they definitely didn't look like the sort of thing that ought to be left lying around. She briefly considered using her Auror credentials to confiscate them, but decided that would just blow her cover to no good effect.

Tonks glanced sideways at the other customer, who had selected some books on curses and a boxed set of the Encyclopaedia of Medieval Dark Devices. She watched him surreptitiously as he tapped a small bell with his wand. There was no ringing sound that she could hear, but a few moments later Miss Orevel drifted in via the invisible door.

"Good morning, Mr Burke," she said. "I see you've found something of interest?"

Tonks picked out a few books from the Potions section for camouflage while the other two agreed a price. She grinned to herself as she noticed a small pamphlet -- just a few sheets of parchment sewn together, really -- called How To Harvest Ashwinder Eggs Without Losing Your House, and added it to the pile for luck.

She carried the books over to a small counter as Mr Burke left. "Oh Miss Orevel, I'm interested in these, please," she said. "How much?"

Miss Orevel flicked through Tonks' choices with slightly raised eyebrows, but made no comment. Noticing this, Tonks tried to pump her a little. "I hope you don't think I'm into something, well ... nasty," she said in a nervous voice. "It's just, er, they sounded interesting, and the others are for a little light reading, and ..."

At this, the shopkeeper looked up and met Tonks' eye. "My dear girl, please don't apologise. This is a bookshop. I run it in order to disseminate knowledge. What my customers do with that knowledge is their own responsibility."

"Oh." Tonks wasn't quite sure what to make of this. That philosophy sounded uncomfortably reminiscent of the landlord of the Transfigured Toad.

"There are hundreds of years' worth of knowledge -- magical and Muggle -- in these books that people have just forgotten," Orevel continued, with a gleam in her eye. "They are just thrown away by idiots who think that the latest is always the greatest. Well, not here. I like to think I can do a little bit to preserve some of this knowledge. I stock anything I can find. You won't find these books at Flourish and Blotts." There was unmistakeable contempt in her voice as she said the last few words.

"Oh, I do agree," said Tonks in a flustered manner, slightly nonplussed; the tone of the owner's voice had sounded surprisingly close to fanatical. "Many people wouldn't feel as you do. You have a really fascinating selection here."

"Thank you." She nodded graciously. "Now then, I see you have some nice old items here. Fifteen Galleons the set?"

Tonks tried the letting-her-face-fall ploy again. She really hadn't intended to spend a lot, and couldn't resist trying to find out if Miss Orevel's desire to disseminate knowledge was sincere enough to run to offering discounts. "Oh, maybe I should put something back," she dithered. "I didn't mean to spend that much."

"Well ..." The bookseller hesitated, then nodded. "Yes, I suppose one or two of the books are a bit tatty. I could say twelve Galleons perhaps, but I really couldn't go any lower."

"Oh, all right," said Tonks, unable to think of a good way to reduce the amount she had to pay, at least not while simultaneously keeping the most dubious books and staying in character. She dug out a handful of gold from her Muggle-style handbag and handed it over. She actually hadn't planned on spending this much, but with a bit of luck, the Department might reimburse her for some of it. It gave her a slightly uneasy feeling, though; she had a vague recollection that you were supposed to get agreement for spending in advance.

Miss Orevel put the books on a large sheet of brown paper and tapped it with her wand. It wrapped itself around the books, then sealed itself into a neat, anonymous-looking package. Tonks breathed a silent sigh of relief. At least the woman didn't expect her customers to walk down Islington High Street carrying an obvious stack of spellbooks.

She followed her out into the main part of the shop, trying to fit what was actually a fairly large package into her small handbag. She soon realised that she really should have been looking where she was going, but unfortunately not until she was picking herself up off the floor yet again after colliding with one of the regular customers. This was getting to be a very bad habit.

"Oh, sorry!" she cried. Fortunately, the man she'd bumped into didn't look hurt, and helped her up with a grin.

"Look, you've spilt all the stuff out your bag," he said with a chuckle, picking things up off the floor. Tonks grabbed at them in a mild panic. Her wand was carefully hidden inside her blouse, but there was bound to be something in there that screamed 'witch'. Sure enough, he was looking curiously at the Galleons, Sickles and Knuts Tonks was shoving back into her purse. "Are you a coin collector or something?"

"Er, no. Foreign money. Holiday. Haven't got it changed back yet," stammered Tonks, genuinely flustered this time. She started towards the door.

"Oh look, you've dropped your mobile!" he called after her. She wheeled round, but he was already holding it out to her. "Doesn't look like it's working though, I hope it didn't break."

"Um, battery's flat. Thanks." She seized it quickly and practically ran out of the shop.

Round the corner and out of sight, she leant against the wall, closed her eyes and groaned. She didn't know what the maintenance people would have to say about an Auror who couldn't keep her equipment out of the hands of the Muggles for more than a few weeks. But she was prepared to bet that she wasn't going to enjoy listening to it.

With a sigh, she Apparated back to the Ministry foyer. She waved at Rhiannon Davies, who was escorting someone out towards the visitors entrance. She did a double-take as she recognised his clothes as a Muggle police uniform, but Davies just shook her head as if to say she didn't want to discuss it right now. They disappeared into the lift that led up the fake phone box in the alley above, and Tonks, shrugging, made her way to the other end of the hall.

She rode back up to the office, dumped the books on her desk, and went to find Scrimgeour, who was talking to the tall black wizard -- Shacklebolt, that was it -- she'd seen on her first day. For some reason, this wizard was once again looking at her in an appraising sort of way, but she didn't have time to inquire about this either as Cassius made his excuses and followed her back to their cubicles.

"Anything of interest in that bookshop?" he said.

Tonks told him about the shop and its stock. Cassius raised his eyebrows when he heard the name and description of the customer Tonks had seen in the back room.

"Burke, eh? Must be Alexander Burke, by the sound of it."

"Who's he?"

"Sleeping partner in Borgin and Burkes in Knockturn Alley. It's probably the biggest shop there -- they sell quite a number of unusual, and often unpleasant, items, and a lot of them seem to be connected with the Dark Arts. Burke doesn't actually go in there much, though -- he just inherited a half share. They're a canny pair; we're fairly sure a lot of illegal stuff gets sold under the counter, but everything's kept well hidden. The items they do have on display are nasty enough."

"What about the books he was buying?" asked Tonks hopefully.

With a slight smile, Cassius nodded towards the books Tonks had thrown onto the desk. "Well, they weren't any worse than your choices, so I don't suppose we can complain about that. People who live in glass houses shouldn't throw curses and all that." He hesitated. "As they probably told you in training, the Ministry keeps records of magical shops in Muggle areas. I went to look this one up while you were out, and it's not listed. She could well be nothing more than a genuine bibliophile, and the shop doesn't seem to be immediately dangerous, but I still don't like the sound of that dark arts section. I think we should put a note in the daily bulletin to keep an eye on it."

"Do you want me to do it?"

Cassius glanced at the desk again; Tonks' now-defunct 'mobile' was lying on the top of the pile. He smiled again. "Leave it to me. Perhaps you'd better go and get your phone fixed." He called after her as she walked towards the exit. "Oh, by the way, I think we may finally have got a result on that Veritaserum warrant. Donnacha seemed quite optimistic when I spoke to him earlier. Try to catch him when you get back."

Tonks brightened at this news. At least that was something. She set off in search of Magical Maintenance in a slightly better mood.

*****

"You've had this how long?" said the wizard behind the front desk of Magical Maintenance.

"Couple of weeks," said Tonks resignedly.

"Tchah." He pulled a small silver device out of a drawer and clipped it onto the phone, which immediately began to pulse with blue light. "Never take care of your stuff, you Aurors, do you? Always the poor idiots like us who have to clean up after you. And I do mean poor. They don't want to know when we ask for a decent pay rate, do they?"

Tonks let her attention wander slightly as the wizard continued to grumble about the iniquities of Ministry treatment. She tried to look interested in the posters that had been roughly sticking-charmed onto the walls, but that was hard going. She'd never been a Tornados fan.

"-- you'd think we were nothing but a pack of house-elves the way they treat us --"

Most of the other posters were lists of extremely dull regulations she was probably supposed to know. Tonks groaned as she spotted one that described a very lengthy procedure for claiming reimbursement for expenses not previously authorised. At least the one advertising the Ministry Halloween Ball looked more interesting. She made a mental note of the date when the tickets would go on sale.

"-- have you ever tried invisible-mending an Invisibility Cloak? Eh? Can't keep anything in one piece --"

Fortunately, the gadget gave a loud ping at this point and the wizard handed back her phone. "Try to keep hold of it this time!" he called after her grumpily as she made her escape.

*****

As she sat down back in her cubicle, out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of a wizard in emerald robes coming in through the main door. Intent as she was on scribbling down a quick report on Lore of Yore, she was surprised when he strolled over to her cubicle.

"Hi, Donnacha," she said. "How's it going?"

The Irish Auror grinned broadly at her. "We've got it!"

"Got it?" said Tonks in slight confusion, before she remembered Cassius' parting remark. "The warrant, you mean? Great!"

O'Gregan took a roll of parchment out of his pocket and unrolled it with an air of exaggerated reverence. "Yes, indeed. One warrant of finest quality, Veritaserum for the use of, personally autographed by five members of the Wizengamot, bless their dear little quills."

"Good one, Donnie." Rhiannon Davies stuck her head round the corner of the cubicle. "When are you planning to interview him, then?"

"Monday mornin', we thought. If the poor spalpeen really is innocent, I suppose we've had him here long enough now."

"You'll let us know what happens right away, won't you?" asked Tonks hopefully. O'Gregan looked at her in surprise.

"Well, actually I was hoping you and Cassius would deign to grace us with your presence, Nymphadora my dear." He ignored Tonks' wince at the use of her first name. "It'll do you good to see how it all works, so it will."

"Excellent!" The trainee Aurors had never been shown an real Veritaserum interrogation, although the lecturer had demonstrated the potion for them (and on them, with results that were both embarrassing and hilarious, depending on whether it was you or somebody else who was taking it). He'd quickly squashed their initial impression that the stuff would obviate any requirement to put actual thought into their investigative work, and Tonks had always wanted to see how it worked in practice.

"Lucky it came through in time, Donnie," said Davies with a sly air. "Wouldn't want it to clash with your holiday now, would we?"

"Indeed we wouldn't, Rhiannon my love. I've been waiting for this for ... well, just about all of my life actually. Ah, when we beat Peru I was on top of the world, I was. I haven't felt so happy since my good lady wife left me."

"Since she left you?" Tonks laughed. "Shouldn't that be the other way round?"

O'Gregan looked at her with a pained expression. "Oh, the innocence of the young. Clearly you have never been introduced to my poor Norah, and may I say that you are a very lucky little lady for all that."

Tonks was fighting down giggles. "Was she really that bad, then?"

"Well, I don't know. I may be biased. Personally, I think she must have worked for You-Know-Who. Giving him lessons on how to be more evil. But she upped and left me these five years ago, and I have never cried like I did that night. I was so happy I just couldn't keep it in."

Tonks looked at Rhiannon inquiringly, hoping a woman's view might be more objective. "Well, despite the fact that Mr Donnacha O'Gregan here has not just kissed the Blarney Stone but apparently snogged it with tongues" -- Rhiannon said this with a sort of affectionate exasperation -- "it's fair to say that Mrs Norah O'Gregan is indeed a nasty piece of work. She makes the Senior Undersecretary look like a fluffy little kitten." She looked archly at O'Gregan. "The poor boy's obviously very lucky with his girlfriend, who's a real sweetie."

"Ah yes, indeed she is," said the Irishman reverently. "Everyone, but everyone likes her. Well, not actually everyone maybe. My wife, now, she never did like her much."

Tonks started to giggle, but choked it off. She'd been trying to get hold of one of the wizards responsible for the Farley case since she arrived, but either she or they had always been too busy, and she didn't want to get sidetracked. "Donnacha!" she said firmly. "If you can spare a moment or two from discussing the women in your life, I don't suppose you'd care to actually tell me what's going on in your case, would you?"

"Oh, but of course, of course, why didn't say so?" O'Gregan waved his hand in an airy gesture. "Fire away."

"Right." Now that she had the chance, Tonks couldn't actually decide which question to ask first. "Er, to start with, what do we know about the victim?"

"Name of Mackenzie Ashford, successful businessman, a very big cheese indeed in the magical creature import and export trade," said O'Gregan crisply. Tonks noticed this and wondered how far he was able to drop the banter when it came to the job. "Lives near a friend of mine, in fact, which was a bit of luck for the fellow."

"Yeah, what happened that night?" said Tonks curiously. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Davies rolling her eyes with an expression that suggested she'd already heard the tale more times than she really wanted, but O'Gregan grinned and struck a pose.

"Well, I was on my way home, nice warm night, thought I'd walk across the Common for a bit instead of Apparating. I can see Ashford ahead of me; I've seen him about, and I know he's a wizard, but that's all. Then Farley steps out from behind a tree with this whacking great knife and goes for him.

"So, I yell at him to stop, of course, and Ashford hears me just in time. Managed to dodge the first blow so it didn't go through his throat, although it did make a nasty hole in him. Then Farley lashes at him a few more times before I could get a hex in. So there's me standing there trying to stop the old fellow bleeding to death with a few first aid spells, panicking a bit in case any Muggles come along and see me.

"Anyway, I call the office here for a spot of medical help, and then I take a look at Farley. Of course at that point I am thinking he'll just be a Muggle bowsie out for a pleasant night's robbing. So I'm wondering whether I can turn this over to their law, how much I'll have to Memory Charm away, and thinking it'll not be fair to the rest of the fine people round here if I just blank it all out and let the man go.

"So I go through his pockets, and I will be damned if I don't find a wand. Well, that changes things, doesn't it now? Luckily, a couple of witches from the Mungo's crash team suddenly pop up in front of me, so while they take old Ashford to patch him up, I call up our Arnie and tell him to get down to the interrogation room fast as he can. I stick this branch in Farley's hand, turn it into a Portkey, and we're off. And you can stop that, Rhiannon Davies, if I want to tell this nice young lady all about it I will."

Davies, who had been making an exaggerated yawning gesture, carefully straightened her face. "So why don't you tell the poor girl something useful then, look you?" she said. "Like maybe who would stand to gain if he were killed?"

"Well now, if it were to happen it might be me, the old boy's so grateful he's practically fawning on me," said O'Gregan smugly. Both the others rolled their eyes.

"Hang on a minute," said Tonks, grabbing a quill and a memo form. "I'd better make a note of that. Investigate Donnacha O'Gregan. Very suspicious character. No alibi for the night in question. So, do we have any other suspects to divert our attention from you, then?"

The Irishman shrugged. "I'm sorry to tell you there are plenty. Our man Mackenzie has not always been too fussy about whose toes he steps on. He's got any number of trade rivals. We don't know of one who would actually kill him, but I don't suppose any of them would exactly be prostrated with grief if he fell under the Knight Bus one fine morning."

"Who would get his money if he died?" asked Tonks. "He must be pretty well off."

"Indeed he is. I would not be surprised if he could pave his driveway with Galleons, except if he did it would make the Muggles rather suspicious, of course. He doesn't have any children, except of course I myself who am as a son to him now" -- he paused to allow his audience to groan -- "so all that lovely loot would be divided between his nephew and his two nieces."

"Do they have alibis for that party Farley was at?" asked Davies with interest. Clearly this bit was new to her too.

"Yes they do," said her colleague sadly. "Mickey -- that's the nephew -- was with his sister Abby at Celestina Warbeck's concert up in Edinburgh, and it was quite a big party they were with. The other niece, Charlotte, is in France on holiday, and their people checked on her for us. She was at a posh Muggle restaurant all night. And she was with folks who knew her, too."

"What first made you think it wasn't Farley himself?" said Tonks curiously. "He must have been acting really odd."

"Well that was why," said O'Gregan thoughtfully. "I mean, when we woke the blaggard up we couldn't get any sense out of him. You stab somebody, now, you think you'd remember what it was all about? So we passed him on to the curse-breaker fellows over in Magical Analysis, and they came back to us all excited babbling about this funny potion, and then my good friend Arnie realises it was the same one old Cassius had been banging on about for weeks."

"When did he snap out of it?" asked Davies.

"A bit later on, after we got him back. The book said something about feeding them salt and meat, so we pinched some of Benny Goldstein's salt beef sandwiches and shovelled 'em down him. Anyway, after a bit he sort of snaps to attention, now, and the way he looks at us, I bet he wishes he was wearing brown robes. Denies everything, of course -- we went at him every which way but he still insists he knows nothing, and we haven't been able to crack him."

"I suppose he could be bluffing," mused Tonks. "Got someone to give him the potion as a cover?"

O'Gregan looked at her pityingly. "Now that is not one of your best theories, young Nymphadora. There'd be bound to be something incriminating that'd come out under the Veritaserum, unless they'd done a very thorough job indeed with the old Memory Charms."

"True," said Tonks, crestfallen. "So when will we be starting, then?"

"Ten o'clock," he said. "Now if you ladies will excuse me, I have to go pick up my ticket for the Final. Don't want that holiday to go to waste, do I now?"

"Wow -- you've got a ticket for the World Cup final?" said Tonks in surprise. "I tried, but I didn't get there quick enough to buy one. Well, not for a seat I could afford, anyway."

"Ah, well. I set off to book my place just as soon as Aidan Lynch's fingers closed round the Snitch in the semi. A nice little package with a prime seat and good accommodation. I wouldn't miss this for all the gold in Gringotts, and that was practically what it cost me." He shrugged. "Let us just hope that Krum kid is off form. I've seen us go out of one World Cup this summer already, and I do not want to repeat the experience."

"No?" said Tonks, puzzled.

"No indeed. Still, with even a little of the luck of the Irish, Ryan won't let them slip through his hands like Packy Bonner." He walked away, shaking his head.

Tonks hadn't a clue who Bonner was, and didn't much care. She watched O'Gregan enviously as he left. "Wow, I wish I could go," she said to Rhiannon Davies. "Are you?"

"Yes, but I had to get in by the tradesman's entrance." Seeing Tonks' confusion, she explained. "I've already used up all this year's holiday, unfortunately. Extremely bad planning on my part. And to be honest, the way my balance at Gringotts is looking at the moment, I couldn't have afforded the ticket -- Donnie's been saving up all year just in case. So I volunteered for the security detail. Would you like me to try to get your name down for it?"

"Yeah!" After a brief internal debate, Tonks decided begging would be undignified, but it was a close-run thing. "Rhiannon, are you sure?"

"Of course. " She smiled. "They're really short-staffed as it is, practically the whole Ministry are working on it off and on anyway. I don't suppose there'll be much crime while the Final's on, though -- all the villains will be following the match on WWN. Tell you what, I'll have a word with Ludo Bagman and try to get you on the same security team as me."

Tonks gasped. "You know Ludo Bagman? He was one of my heroes as a kid! You couldn't get me his autograph could you?" She blushed. That sounded far more embarrassingly gushing than she'd hoped.

Davies shook her head in mock sorrow. "Dear me, these poor little fangirls. I'll see what I can do -- I'm sure I can persuade him. I think he fancies me, actually, not that he's going to get anywhere."

"Oh yes?" Tonks raised her eyebrows archly. "Not interested in a famous older man then?"

Her companion pretended to consider this. "Well, I think my boyfriend might object."

"Oh, fair enough. Who is he anyway?"

Davies grinned. "I hope this isn't going to be the standard of your deductive work, Tonks. It's Donnie, you nitwit. Who else did you think it was?"


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6: The Uses and Abuses of Veritaserum

Monday July 27th 1994

Tonks used the weekend to brush up on her interrogation theory and Apparated into the foyer on Monday morning. She feet nervous but excited, thinking through everything they might want to ask Farley. Naturally, this distraction meant that she wasn't looking where she was going, and several people collided with her, including (to her deep embarrassment) the wizard in pinstripes she'd 'met' on her first day. This time he merely looked at her disdainfully, as if she were a troll with halitosis, and marched off.

Preoccupied with this, she didn't at first notice the quiet voice speaking to her as the lift started up.

"Well, Auror Tonks, how are you settling in?"

Tonks looked around in surprise to see a very familiar face. Bruno Featherstone had been the kind of department head that favoured the hands-on approach. He'd taught many of the more interesting classes during her Auror training. The cadets had rather enjoyed his lessons as a general rule, despite it rapidly becoming clear that he did not suffer fools gladly.

"Er ... quite well, I think, sir. Commander Claymore put me straight on to a case. We're doing an interview with Veritaserum this morning, in fact," she said brightly.

"Veritaserum, eh?" said Featherstone thoughtfully as the lift came to a halt at Level Five. "Well, well. I do hope you remember all we taught you about it." With a slight smile, he got out, leaving Tonks to think. It was quite easy to remember what he'd taught. It had been a memorable sort of lecture.

*****

February 1992

Featherstone had written just one word on the blackboard that morning when they came into the lecture hall -- "Veritaserum". The students all looked at each other with interest and slight excitement.

"Settle down, people." His voice was quiet, but the trainees immediately stopped murmuring. The head of Auror training was not a man who ever had any trouble keeping a class in order.

He pointed to the blackboard with his wand. "Today we will be considering an important factor in criminal investigations in our world. Veritaserum. I'm not here to tell you how to make the stuff. You can get all that from the recipe books, although I believe you will be taught how to do this in your potions classes at some point. In any case, if you qualify as Aurors, we don't expect you to brew all your own potions." Many of the class looked relieved at this.

"Veritaserum is a Truth Potion, in case there is someone here who doesn't know -- if there is, please don't reveal your ignorance, I wouldn't wish to know you're falling behind in your studies -- and is, in the opinion of many people, the best thing to happen to magical law enforcement since the invention of Anti-Disapparation Jinxes. Would you agree?"

Most of the class had eventually learned not to bite when Bruno Featherstone offered up rhetorical bait like this. But as this lecture was early in their training, one of them nodded and said, "It means we can just concentrate on actually catching the villains. Once we get them, we know we can easily get any information we need."

"Wrong, Mr Jenkins," replied Featherstone bluntly, shaking his head with mock sadness. The young man's face dropped like a stone. "On several different levels, in fact. Firstly, despite anything the Quibbler and its ilk may have suggested to you, we do actually have laws regulating what Aurors can and cannot do, and you will be expected to know what they are."

He paused briefly, apparently to gather his thoughts. "Now I know that some of you here have been sent for training from other wizarding administrations. We only teach -- and examine -- the rules of the British wizarding legal system here, so I'm afraid that you'll also have to learn the regulations that apply in your own countries in your own time. However, Veritaserum rules vary little, as far as I know." The British trainees glanced in sympathy at their foreign friends.

"Anyway, under our Wizengamot Charter of Rights, the Ministry may only use coercive interrogation methods under special circumstances, and never without a specific warrant." He gave the class an assessing look. "I would like to tell you that this is merely because we are civilised enough to feel that magical citizens should generally not be forced to incriminate themselves, let alone be subjected to painful and humiliating ordeals merely because they come under suspicion. These are principles which are frequently recognised even by Muggles. Unfortunately, this is not the case. Powerful methods and sweeping legal privileges invite -- and usually get -- abuse if they are not carefully monitored, which is something that an Auror should appreciate better than anyone."

The class shared uneasy glances. Tonks wasn't sure if they agreed with Featherstone on this. She wasn't entirely sure that she did, for that matter, although she supposed he did have a good point.

"There were far too many occasions in the early days after the invention of the potion in 1684 where members of the Ministry administered it to people for arbitrary reasons, especially when an unusually high level of Dark Wizard activity offered a convenient excuse. The experience of having Veritaserum administered to you is not a pleasant one, as you will discover later when we experiment with it, and excessive doses can cause serious damage." He gave them a twisted grin.

"In fact by 1821, when Minister Peasegood came to power -- and no, you don't need to know the history, Mr Jenkins, but if you pay attention it may help to set things in context -- an important reason why he gathered enough popular support was his promise to introduce restrictions on such methods. Of course, it took him several years to, ah, 'convince' the Wizengamot to agree to such laws, but he eventually succeeded, and the rules that he introduced are still substantially in place. We law enforcers have only ourselves to blame.

"Secondly, another reason for legal caution, although one not commonly known, is that it is actually possible for subjects to resist Veritaserum." Eyebrows were raised at this. "It is admittedly very difficult, and requires some of the same strength of purpose needed to defeat the Imperius Curse. Although this is rarely found it can be done, especially with practice. It may be considered a form of Occlumency -- which is something we will cover later in your studies, although since it's rather hard to do we don't give you extensive training in it. What is more, in 1764 the Deception Draught was discovered -- this potion counteracts the effects of Veritaserum for up to seven days. We are fortunate that the ingredients required make it expensive, and even harder to brew correctly than Veritaserum itself."

Tonks scribbled the dates down in her notebook to give the impression of efficiency, although she was glad they weren't going to be tested on them afterwards. Magical history had never been her favourite subject. Or that of any of her classmates. Or, come to think of it, that of anyone who had been educated at Hogwarts during the last half-century.

"Thirdly, and most importantly, however, there is no guarantee that even a subject completely under the influence of Veritaserum will give you correct answers. Does anyone wish to explain why this is?" He gazed around the class inquiringly. None of them seemed keen to stick their heads in the firing line.

Oh well, here goes nothing, thought Tonks. "Er -- because they might not know the right answers in the first place?" she said tentatively.

Featherstone looked at her with what might have been an approving expression. "Very good, Cadet ...Tonks, isn't it? It's always nice to see someone has stayed alert while I talk, it makes it all seem worthwhile.

"Yes, as she said, the most important thing to remember is that a Veritaserum subject can only tell you what they believe to be true. And this means that the answers they give you must always be treated with considerable caution, unless and until you have other reasons to believe that they are accurate."

He tapped the board with his wand, and a list appeared on it. "There are many ways for someone to mislead you despite being under the influence of Veritaserum, some of which are innocent, some of which are decidedly not so.

"Most straightforwardly, of course, the subject may simply be ill-informed. If they sincerely believe that someone has tried to curse them, for example, they will tell you so, even if they merely got in the way of a spell that was aimed at someone else. The contents of memories are often subjective and strongly influenced by personal experience and background, and you will find it is not always easy to distinguish what actually happened from what someone thinks has happened, even with magical assistance.

"Then, of course, you may be interrogating someone who is in fact insane. I remember sitting in on an interview where the Veritaserum subject explained quite calmly and matter-of-factly, with precise detail, how he had assassinated Pierre Bonaccord. Well, needless to say, if that had been true we would certainly have had to radically revise our history books. The same man also confessed that he had murdered Millicent Bagnold. I did consider asking Minister Bagnold if she had noticed this, but decided to let it pass."

The class s******ed quietly, and Featherstone continued, now with a sharper tone to his voice.

"More dangerous yet to the slapdash investigator are those who take precautions in advance. I shall assume for the purpose of this lecture that you are interrogating a suspect who is under arrest, and have therefore already confiscated their wand. This should prevent them using simple dodges such as sealing their throats against the potion or Transfiguring it before use. If you fail to take this simple step, then I'm afraid little of what I say will be of much use to you.

"However, there are other alternatives. It has long been a known practice for the more ... organised criminal elements to arrange for memories of their crimes to be wiped from their minds with a simple Obliviate, if they have reason to suspect that they will be interrogated with Veritaserum or other coercive methods. The technique can be dangerous to their sanity, certainly, but then, so can a long stretch in Azkaban. Since memories tend to be strongly interconnected, usually there will be stray recollections or suspicious gaps that will show up under careful questioning, but many a lazy Auror has been fooled by such methods."

This statement had made the class sit up and take notice. Uneasy glances had been exchanged between them. And Featherstone's next point had proceeded to drive the idea home.

"During the last war, in fact, some of the Death Eaters came up with a novel variant -- they occasionally used Confundus Charms on victims, or on expendable members of their own ranks who had fallen under suspicion, in order to plant actual false memories that incriminated somebody else. It is in the nature of the 'memories' created by this charm to be very prominent in the mind while they last, and very difficult to distinguish from real memories, even by the victims. Since many people in the Ministry were none too fussy about who they arrested, there were several cases of entirely innocent people sent to Azkaban on the word of You-Know-Who's supporters, even when Veritaserum was used on them. Not the Department's finest hour."

Several of the class were open-mouthed. Tonks wasn't one of them, but she understood why, and shuddered to herself. The thought briefly flashed across her mind that maybe there was a chance then that ... no. There were too many witnesses to that one.

"For those dark wizards and witches who wish to retain the information in their memories without revealing it under questioning, and are not confident of their ability to resist the Potion, there is the alternative of a device called a Pensieve and its associated spells. I would hope that some of the students in this class will have at least heard of Pensieves. Although as they are expensive, quite difficult to manufacture, and can be tricky to use, I won't expect you to know much about them.

"If you are unclear on the theory underpinning the Pensieve, I believe it will be discussed in the Advanced Obliviation classes in your third year of training. But briefly, you may be surprised to learn that with practice, it is possible to actually extract thoughts and memories from a mind, rather than simply eliminate them. A Pensieve allows you to store them, examine them from an external perspective, and replace them later if need be." He paused. "Naming no names, obviously, but we in the Department feel certain that there are former Death Eaters walking around free who escaped by claiming that they were acting under the Imperius Curse, and who were able to afford and use a Pensieve to temporarily remove the evidence of their crimes."

Tonks could think of a possible name. And a face. A sneering, patrician face that had always looked on her as if she were something unclean, seldom seen but loathed whenever she encountered it.

"Which brings me to the final caveat I wish to make. The reactions of those affected by the stronger forms of magic -- especially Dark Magic -- are also highly suspect. Imperius cursed wizards, for example, may or may not tell you the truth as they know it under Veritaserum. It depends entirely on the relative strengths of the curse and the potion, and the powers of resistance of the individual wizard. There are other Dark Arts with similar effects, although they are mercifully rare." Tonks hadn't known what he meant at the time. Obscure potions weren't part of the training course, which concentrated on bringing Auror candidates up to speed on the key material.

"And even some protective spells can affect what a person is able to tell you. For example, is anyone in this class aware of the nature of the Fidelius charm?"

Tonks raised her hand reluctantly, as did a couple of other members of the class. She suspected that the reason for the others' reluctance was that they didn't want to be asked to explain a charm that had only ever been mentioned in passing during their education. In her case it was because she had heard of it at a very young age, and didn't want to have to explain the reason why.

"A few of you? Good. For you others, this charm protects a secret and makes it impossible for anyone to learn it unless a designated individual chooses to reveal it to them. No potion or spell yet devised will enable us to force the information from anyone else, even if they have been told the secret." The students who had raised hands breathed a sigh of relief.

Featherstone looked directly at the student who had answered him before. "So, Mr Jenkins, will you now agree that Veritaserum is actually fairly useless stuff?" he asked briskly.

The young man gulped and fidgeted. "Er, I guess so, sir."

"Well that's a pity, Mr Jenkins, because I really wouldn't want you to go away with that idea," said Featherstone smoothly. The rest of the class snickered under their breath. "Now despite all the problems I have outlined, Veritaserum is actually fairly useful stuff. Miss Tonks, you seemed to be reasonably awake, would you like to tell us why this is?"

Tonks winced. Terrific, you just had to let yourself in for this, didn't you? She didn't have much choice but to hazard some kind of answer. "I suppose because ... well, because it still gives you information you didn't have before and you can always work on that and, er, test it out?" She held her breath, and crossed her fingers out of sight under the desk.

"Not too bad an answer," said Featherstone. "I'm sure you would rather not have had to give it, but as you see Veritaserum is not the only way of making people talk." The class laughed out loud at this and Tonks reddened slightly. Featherstone, with the slight smile back on his face, allowed them a few moments to settle down before finishing.

"That of course is the other important thing to remember about Veritaserum. You will undoubtedly get something from its use, even if that something is rarely a complete solution to your case all gift-wrapped and tied with a little bow.

"The methods I've described for defeating Veritaserum all have one thing in common -- they require preparation. If you can catch people unprepared, then yes, you probably can get the information you need. You still have to ask the right questions -- if you flounder around without knowing what to talk about, you are unlikely to get anywhere -- but if you know enough about the case to keep your interrogation to the point, you will get valuable information.

"Now you should know that information obtained by Veritaserum is not a legal free pass in this country. Firstly, because of all the possible problems that I have described, its accuracy is subject to challenge by the accused at trial. This makes it vitally important to be able to show that your interrogation was properly conducted, and wherever possible the results should be backed up by additional evidence from other sources.

"Also, you are not supposed to use Veritaserum as an excuse for a general fishing expedition. Anything you learn from it that cannot be plausibly related to the case at hand may not be used in court." He permitted himself another smile. "Of course, this is not an insuperable objection. Once you learn something, you have the opportunity to verify it independently, and that evidence is legally acceptable. So my advice, frankly, is to ask anything you wish to ask if you think that the information may help with other investigations.

"Finally, as I have already said, even the use of memory charms may not be a complete defence. You need to acquire sufficiently good interviewing skills to notice when there is a pattern of missing pieces which suggest that this technique has been applied. Of course, the fact that something is clearly being concealed is an important pointer in itself.

"I hope that when the time comes for you to conduct such interrogations for real, you will all have a working knowledge of the value and the pitfalls of these methods. You'll be getting training in this later during the practical lessons, and I look forward to seeing the reports. Don't let me down."

The class filed out thoughtfully. It had indeed been a memorable lesson.

*****

Monday July 27th 1994

Tonks found Scrimgeour, O'Gregan and Cornworthy already in their cubicles when she arrived at Auror Headquarters.

"Nymphadora. Top of the mornin' and all that," said O'Gregan cheerily. Seeing Tonks' wince, Cassius Scrimgeour quickly muttered to him under his breath. "Oh, sorry, Tonks then. Now we've got the Farley fellow on ice for us down in the interview room, so any time you're ready we can get down there. We thought it'd be best if we start the questioning, and you and Cassius just sit there so he doesn't know who you are and worries a bit. Then if you want to ask anything you can come in later. OK? Follow me then."

O'Gregan led them down to one of the small rooms Tonks had only seen in passing since she'd joined. A prim-looking middle-aged witch carrying a stack of parchment was waiting outside, accompanied by a man in lime-green robes and a grey-haired wizard with attire of a neat burgundy.

O'Gregan handled the introductions. "This is Marcie Macmillan from the Wizengamot Administration Services, Healer Parkinson, and this will I believe be Morgan Harris, Mr Farley's legal adviser. Shall we begin?"

Tonks and Cassius followed the others into the room. A scruffy, nervous-looking wizard was sitting at a table. So that's Farley, thought Tonks. He wasn't an especially impressive sight.

She recognised the seating arrangement at once. It was essentially the same as the one used at her initial Auror interview. Farley was seated in the middle, upon the long edge of a narrow table, on which he was drumming his fingers (apparently unconsciously). There were three chairs on the opposite side of the table in which O'Gregan, Cornworthy and the administrative witch took their seats, and chairs on either side of him clearly meant for Tonks and Scrimgeour.

Farley's adviser took a chair which had been placed next to his client, while the Healer placed a dropper and a bottle of clear liquid on the table and stood ready. The prim witch cleared her throat.

"You are Mr Benjamin Allen Farley of 271 North Clipperhorn Street, Manchester?"

Farley glanced at his adviser, who nodded at him. "Yes, I am."

The witch started to read from a piece of parchment, in a flat voice that suggested she'd done this far too many times to find it anything more than a dull routine.

"Mr Farley, this is a warrant duly granted by the Wizengamot, who have ruled that you may be questioned in connection with the attempted murder of Mackenzie Ashford while under the influence of Veritaserum. The questioning may relate only to the matter at hand, but such answers may be received in evidence and taken into account in any subsequent court proceedings, subject to the right of challenge by either side.

"The questions and answers will be recorded" -- Tonks suddenly realised that Cornworthy had placed an auto-dictation quill on the table in front of him, along with a gadget she didn't immediately recognise -- "but you may at your option have a witness of your own choosing present, provided that they agree not to disclose any information revealed in the interview that could jeopardise a current investigation, the life of a Ministry law enforcement official, or that of any other person, and that the Ministry may place a short-term Memory Charm upon them to enforce this at the discretion of the case Aurors.

"The interview will be conducted in the presence of a trained Healer, who is authorised to intervene if they feel that your life or health may be at risk. The Aurors may however use reasonable force to administer the potion if necessary.

"Mr Farley, do you understand these statements?"

Farley gulped. "Er, yes ma'am."

"Very well. I understand Mr Harris is your nominated representative, and that he has signed all the appropriate disclaimers?" Both of them nodded.

"In that case, we have completed the formalities. If Healer Parkinson would care to give Mr Farley the appropriate dose of the potion, I will leave you in what I am sure are the capable hands of Aurors O'Gregan and Cornworthy. Good-day to you." She gathered up her collection of parchment and walked out of the room, with a small nod to the Aurors.

The Healer drew a small amount of Veritaserum from the bottle and turned to Farley. "Put your tongue out then, Mr Farley," he said in the over-hearty voice that all Healers seemed to have been taught as part of their training. "This won't hurt a bit."

That's what you think, mate, thought Tonks as he dripped three drops of potion onto Farley's tongue with a cheerful "Swallow now, that's it!" She could remember only too well what it felt like from her training. True, there wasn't much actual physical pain from the stuff -- a little nausea, a slight headache afterwards -- but the experience of having other people stomping through your innermost thoughts, despite desperately trying to fight it, was not at all pleasant.

Farley slumped back in his chair with an unfocused look, and O'Gregan rubbed his hands briskly. "Excellent. Now, Mr Farley, please describe what you did on the evening of the twenty-eighth for us."

Tonks listened carefully as Farley recounted his evening's activities in a dull monotone. She'd already read his story several times in the interview transcripts. Although the Veritaserum brought out a number of embarrassing details that would probably have been of great interest to Mrs Farley (and her divorce lawyer), the main points remained consistent.

He'd gone to the party. He'd noticed a real looker who was wandering about the pub chatting to people and knocking drinks back from the bottle. He'd been taken aback to realise that she was flirting with him every time she passed by, and disappointed when he realised that she was flirting with all the other men there too. Towards the end of the evening he'd finally succeeded in getting her attention, and been amazed and delighted when he'd actually managed to pull her. They'd left the pub together. And then ... he was basically out of it until he woke up in Auror custody. He couldn't remember where he got the knife, or what he'd done with it, or where he'd been, or who he'd talked to. He could vaguely remember a scuffle and being hit with a hex, but that was all. He wasn't even familiar with the part of London where he'd been at the time of the attack.

Tonks took a sideways glance at O'Gregan and Cornworthy, neither of whom looked especially disappointed by this development. They must have already come to the conclusion he was telling the truth.

Cornworthy's other gadget turned out to be an Image Projector (another useful item she'd only encountered in passing during training). He placed a small bronze-coloured ring on Farley's head -- it promptly expanded and adjusted itself to fit tightly around his temples -- and fixed a matching ring flush to the top of the Projector. Having done this, he then prompted him to think hard about how the people he'd seen at the pub that night had looked. Tonks watched in fascination as a silvery mist formed between the two rings .

She glanced over at Cornworthy with eyebrows raised in inquiry, mouthing "how does it work again?"

"Bit like an automatic Pensieve," he muttered out of the corner of his mouth while Farley was sweating with concentration. "Doesn't record nearly as much detail, but you don't need to know what you're doing to use one." Tonks nodded.

Images slowly took shape above the Projector ring one by one. Each time Farley confirmed that one of them was an accurate representation of someone he'd seen that night, Cornworthy tapped the Projector with his wand; as this cleared the images, Tonks assumed it must store them first. The person they were most interested in was, of course, the woman he'd escorted out. There had been no response to the request for her to come forward inserted in the crime beat section of the Daily Prophet, a result which had surprised none of them. Her face meant nothing to Tonks -- or to most of the others, apparently, although Cassius had a kind of distant look in his eyes that suggested a man trying to recall a hazy memory. Tonks made a mental note to ask him about it later.

The woman was indeed extremely good-looking and fully justified Farley's description of her as a 'honey' -- blonde, blue-eyed, a figure with curves in all the places convention deemed appropriate. Williamson would definitely have appreciated her. Tonks made another mental note of the elaborate and quite distinctive waved hairstyle. One of these days she'd have to try it out. At least it might stop her mirror complaining.

Farley eventually ran out of people to project images of, and the Aurors looked at each other thoughtfully. "Had you ever met Mackenzie Ashford before you tried to stab him?" asked Cornworthy.

"No, never, not as far as I know," said Farley, still in the flat monotone characteristic of people under the influence of Veritaserum.

"Had you ever spoken to anyone about him?"

"No, I hadn't."

Tonks, remembering what Featherstone had said about careful questioning, surprised everyone -- including herself -- at this point by throwing in a question. "Have you ever been involved in the magical creature trade, or spoken to anyone about the people involved in it?"

"Well, once or twice, yeah."

Cornworthy nodded at Tonks in approval -- you've got the right idea -- then turned back to Farley. "Describe these occasions and the people involved, please."

Farley began to recite again. "A few years ago I helped out this Greek bloke. Papadopolous he called hisself, don't think it was his real name, though. He 'ad some funny creatures he'd smuggled in and couldn't get rid of -- sphinxes, manticores, things like that. Well, I knew this bloke up in Lancashire 'ad his own private zoo. Nutter. He liked that sort of thing, so I said I'd put 'em in touch for a commission. I was only the middleman. I mean, I wasn't going to go near the things myself, was I? Tear your head off soon as look at you. Anyway, he sold most of 'em, just left with this bloody great mutant hound thing at the end. No idea what he did with that. Couldn't care less after I got my ten per."

Farley's legal adviser was looking decidedly worried at this point. O'Gregan grinned. "For the record, Mr Farley, tell us who the buyer was and we'll say no more about it."

"Bloke called Arkwright, Nathan Arkwright, haven't seen him couple of years now. Never really did much else in that line. I mean, I've dealt in nicked owls a few times, who hasn't, but that's about it."

Harris coughed hastily. "May I remind you, gentlemen -- and lady -- that confessions on matters not directly related to the Ashford case are not valid evidence?"

"Don't worry," said O'Gregan with a snort. "You're talking to Aurors here, not plodders from the Law Enforcement Patrol who barely know one end of their wand from the other. We don't mess about with petty cr --"

"I'm going to show you some pictures of Ashford's relatives and their known associates," Cornworthy interrupted quickly. "Tell me if you recognise any of them." He laid out a row of wizarding photographs on the desk. Farley looked at them blankly.

"Don't mean nothing to me," he said. Cornworthy shrugged. "Try these. These are Ashford's main business associates and trade rivals."

Farley still looked indifferent. "That one's got a shop near where I live. Freddy Farnham. Sells pedigree Kneazles and stuff. Don't recognise anyone else there."

Cassius entered the fray for the first time. "Have you heard anyone mention a potion that acts on victims much like an Imperius Curse?" They'd agreed they had to ask this question at some point. Even if Farley had been part of a plot and the use of the potion had been a bluff, there was the off-chance that he'd admit to knowing more than he should about it, even if they'd Memory Charmed him to forget the plot itself.

Farley's eyes took on a look that was even more distant. "I did overhear some Midlands blokes talk about something like that. In that pub in the Magical Market in Birmingham, when I was in there time before last, couple of months ago? They was saying somebody had wanted some for a job."

Tonks caught Cassius' eye; from the look on his face, he was just as surprised as she was. "Describe these people, please, Mr Farley," he said urgently. "Do you know who they are?"

"Never seen 'em before. Must have been locals, though, you could tell by the accents. Don't really know what they looked like, they was on the next table and they 'ad hoods over their faces. Wasn't like something I was supposed to overhear, was it?"

Cassius shrugged, looking slightly disappointed. "What did they say about the, er, job that they wanted it for? Describe the conversation as closely as you can, please."

"They didn't say what it was exactly. They was talking about stuff they'd heard had been nicked. One of 'em said they knew someone -- Trollbrain, they called 'im -- his lot had a commission they couldn't fulfil, some collector's item with protections on it, and it was from someone you didn't really want to cross, by the sound of it --"

"'Trollbrain'?" interrupted O'Gregan. "Did that sound like a nickname or just an insult, now?"

"Bit of both, I think. They was saying he got desperate enough to ask around for ideas, and someone down south told 'em about this funny potion from abroad."

"Did they say where they got it from?" said Cassius.

"Not really, just that this bloke they bought stuff off from time to time told 'em about it, and reckoned he could get some for 'em. One who was talking said he thought whoever got it brought in a supply for stock."

"Did you ask around to see if you could find the supplier?" asked Tonks, excited.

"Not me, no! Bloody dangerous stuff by the sound of it, you'd have to be a bit desperate to use it, wouldn't you? I don't like getting involved with Dark Magic stuff. Could get the Aurors after you. You want to keep away from that lot. Stitch you up if they don't like the look of you, everyone knows that."

Harris gulped at this statement from his client. An evil grin appeared on O'Gregan's face.

"At least he understands the way we work. Now then, Farley boy, let's talk about who your dodgy contacts are -- at the Transfigured Toad to start with, then any others."

Farley hesitated, but under the influence of the Veritaserum he reeled off a list of names. None of them meant much to Tonks, but the others nodded occasionally in recognition. She glanced at Cornworthy with eyebrows raised in inquiry; he gave a slight, chagrined shake of the head to indicate that none of the names really suggested anything more than an involvement in petty crime.

The Aurors exchanged glances. "Again?" asked O'Gregan, looking around.

"I think so," said Cassius. Tonks nodded vigorously, and Cornworthy more gently.

So they went over the ground they'd already covered again, and then yet again, varying the form of the questions, and trying to catch Farley unawares. But the Veritaserum had apparently succeeded in forcing him to be an honest man, and they were unable to get any significant information from him that they didn't already know.

Eventually, it became clear even to O'Gregan that they'd got about as much as they were going to get from Farley. A couple of security guards escorted Farley back to his holding cell, while the Aurors trooped back to the office in thoughtful silence.

O'Gregan threw himself down into his cubicle chair.

"Well?"

His question hung in the air.


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Feedback thread

7: The Educational Value of Art

Monday July 27th 1994

It was fairly obvious what he meant, but no-one wanted to be the first to voice it aloud. Eventually Tonks shrugged and said it.

"He's innocent."

"Right. Innocent. Took a knife to somebody. Wouldn't hurt a fly."

"Well, OK, he did attack him, but he's got a perfect defence, hasn't he?" Tonks looked around at the more experienced Aurors. "I mean, being under Imperio is enough to acquit you, isn't it, so I suppose Liquor of Jacmel is as well? Cassius?"

He nodded. "Yes, it is. I've checked with the legal section. I'm sorry to say, Donnacha, Arnold, but I don't think you have any choice but to let him go. We haven't really got a case that will hold water in court. The Wizengamot will need to sign off on it, but it seems more or less cut-and-dried."

O'Gregan looked at his partner, who looked back at him dolefully. "Sorry, Don, but they're right. He was set up and he knows nothing about it. We didn't get even a hint he knew what was going on beforehand. We don't want to put him up for a trial and look like complete idiots when the Prophet reports it, do we? And this way, at least we can always pick him up again if it turns out later he does know something."

Donnacha O'Gregan gave a resigned sort of scowl. "Who set him up though? Why Farley? He's just a little gouger, couldn't have cast a Killing Curse at Ashford if they'd told him to. Who'd pick him as their hit man?"

"Mmm ..." Tonks said thoughtfully. "Wasn't it meant to look like an ordinary Muggle mugging? Nothing to do with the fact that he was a wizard at all?"

O'Gregan rolled his eyes. "Well, yeah, obviously. I mean, the knife was just a plain carving knife, could have come from anywhere. No chance of tracing it. But so what?

"Could he have been picked simply because he didn't have any connection to the victim?" Tonks asked. "He wasn't a Londoner, he was only here for a visit. I mean, suppose you hadn't come by at the key moment? He'd have killed Ashford and just woken up with no recollection of what happened, right? Even if he was seen by Muggles, he could still do magic to get away from them, and no-one would be any the wiser. Not even Farley himself."

"OK, Tonks," said Cornworthy thoughtfully. "Not bad so far. But you have to assume that whoever gave him the stuff told him where to go, and they must have known there are quite a few wizards living round there. How could they be sure none of them would pass by? How could they know none of them would tip us off?"

"I'm not sure they needed to care about that either," said Cassius quietly. "He must have been told to pick a moment when no-one was near. How many wizards would have the skills to stop him from long range, even if they dared to use magic to interfere with what would have looked like a Muggle attack? If he'd got away, I don't think it would have mattered if we found him later. Once the Liquor had worn off -- and that would only have been a few hours later -- how would he ever have proved it? It looks like we have a good planner at work here. It took a lot of things to go wrong before we could get the idea that Liquor of Jacmel specifically was used."

"Exactly!" said Tonks, pleased. "Lucky for Farley an Auror was there, as well as for Ashford. Any other way, Farley might be in trouble but there'd be no suspicion attached to whoever gave him the stuff, would there?"

"But we'd still have to check out his story, Tonks," pointed out O'Gregan. "And if it was this bit of totty who gave him the stuff, she was seen. I mean, she stands out a bit -- in more ways than one."

"She doesn't seem to have been talking to him any more than to anyone else until he actually picked her up, though?" pressed Tonks. "And that was late on, when most of the people at that party were probably smashed. And the patrons of that pub aren't known for being talkative when we're around anyway, are they?"

"Yeah, but we found a witness who was passing by the pub and thinks he saw them leaving," said O'Gregan stubbornly.

"That was another bit of luck for us, though, Don," said Cornworthy. "And no-one's actually come forward to identify her, have they? Even assuming it's her real face. She looked a bit too good to be true," he added wistfully.

"Polyjuice?" suggested Tonks. "After all, if you could get a bottle of this Jacmel stuff, you could probably get some of that."

"You wouldn't want to buy it from the same seller as the Liquor, though, it would leave a bit too much back trail," pointed out Cassius. "And it's not easy to get all the ingredients to brew it yourself, even if you are a dab hand with a cauldron -- which many of us aren't. Come to think of it, it would be difficult to find a copy of Moste Potente Potions that you could buy these days. Usually you need to be a Ministry official or a licensed teacher or something like that."

"More than that, it's not like Jacmel where you've only got to add a bit of yourself to it," added O'Gregan impatiently. "You'd need to know someone who had the look you wanted, and then get body samples from them. You can't just go up to someone and cut off a chunk of their hair every time you need to make it, can you now? And it's vile stuff, smells foul, and every time you take it, it's agony. Twists your insides, and you've got to make sure you can do it every hour and not forget. Hard to conceal what you're up to unless people are used to you being strange. Maybe it's just me, but I've never thought it was all it was cracked up to be."

"Transfiguration, then?" said Cornworthy hastily in a placating voice. "That's not as painful, and it lasts fairly well."

"Most people aren't that good at it, though, are they?" said Tonks. She scowled slightly as her colleagues laughed, and O'Gregan muttered "resident expert" under his breath. "Oh, sod off, Don, I mean it. It's not easy to do well, especially if it needs to look just right. It would take me practice to get that look. And I don't care if it sounds like bragging, I am better at changing appearance than practically anyone else ..."

"Actually," Cassius interrupted, "I've a feeling she looked familiar." O'Gregan snickered, and Cassius shot him a mildly annoyed look. "No, I really mean it. I've been trying to think back. I seem to remember seeing her at a big occasion of some kind, about three or four years ago while ... while my wife was still alive," he finished flatly. "As you gentlemen obviously noticed, she's a girl of striking appearance. I'll have to try to remember."

O'Gregan and Cornworthy didn't seem especially impressed, but as everyone had by now run out of constructive suggestions, they wandered back to their cubicles to write up their report.

Cassius smiled at her. "Well, that didn't go too badly, did it?" He glanced at his notes. "I suppose we'd better check on that chap Nathan Arkwright before that slips our mind as well. Come on -- I'll show you how to use the WEB Access."

*****

Tonks followed Cassius over to an alcove in one corner of the room. A roughly printed sign hung above it:

WIZARDING EASY BOOK ACCESS

Please see the instructions provided,

or consult the staff of the Hall of Records

if you encounter any problems.

The instructions, such as they were, appeared to consist of nothing more than some roughly duplicated sheets of parchment. The Wizarding Easy Book Access itself was a very large life-size painting of a library that stretched across the back of the alcove. The artist had included a blank scroll to the left of the picture.

"So this is the WEB thing?" said Tonks with interest. "It's quite new, isn't it? I've never had a chance to play around with it before."

"That makes me feel better," said Cassius. In response to Tonks' raised eyebrows, he added: "It took me quite a while to get the hang of this, you know, when I came back to the Department. I was used to going down to the Hall to look for myself. At least you won't be making me feel like I'm past it."

"You're in your prime, mate," said Tonks, grinning. "So, are you going to pass on the wisdom of the ages to your humble student, then?"

"I can try," said Cassius, smiling in return. "Now, I was told they created this thing to allow you to search through the contents of the Hall of Records without actually having to be there, or even needing to know exactly what you were looking for. Jolly useful, really, when you think about it. And it's not all that hard to use, even an old codger like me can manage it." He tapped his wand on the frame of the painting, and a wizard in the robes of the Hall of Records walked into the picture from behind one of the shelves.

"Good morning, sir, and miss," he said politely, making a slight bow towards them. "My name is Jakob Gogol, and I'll be your searchwizard for this visit. How may I be of assistance?"

Tonks glanced at Cassius inquiringly. Over to you, mate. "Well, for a start we need to know of any recent documents you can find -- within the last ten years, say -- containing information on one Nathan Arkwright of Lancashire, especially in connection with magical creatures or a man called Mackenzie Ashford," he told the wizard in the painting. "Please include the Auror confidential records as well, and we'd like the most recent records first."

"Certainly, sir," said Gogol, and disappeared among the bookshelves. Cassius sat down in one of the chairs next to the painting and motioned for Tonks to join him. Gogol was still out of sight.

"How long will he be?" asked Tonks. "He hasn't really gone off to search the whole Hall, has he?"

"I think so. Apparently, the way it works is that they put some sort of indexing charm on the contents, and it lets these portraits of former Hall of Records staff search them very quickly indeed. You have to add each book to the index first, of course, so it took them a while to set it up, and it takes longer if you want something obscure ..."

He was interrupted by the return of the searchwizard, carrying a large pile of painted books and papers, which he deposited on a table in the foreground of the picture. Gogol's animated self took out his wand and waved it at the pile; the scroll at the left of the picture immediately filled up with a list of the reading matter he'd brought back

Cassius inspected the list, and raised his eyebrows. He tapped with his wand on the first entry, and the scroll cleared to show a reproduction of a page of the Daily Prophet from about six months before. At the bottom of the page was a small article stating that Nathan Arkwright, 52, of Stockport, had been severely injured by a young Hebridean Black that he had been attempting to raise from an egg. Tonks winced as she read the details. The poor sod had been lucky not to be burnt to a crisp.

"That might have dampened his enthusiasm for funny creatures a bit then," she said dryly.

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" said Cassius with a grin. "Hang on a moment, if the Prophet knew what he was doing, there has to be something in our records." He scanned the list again and tapped an entry about a quarter of the way down, revealing a case report on the unfortunate Mr Arkwright. Tonks peeked over his shoulder to read the summary at the top which stated that Arkwright had been arrested immediately upon his release from St Mungo's, and brought to trial on several dozen charges of keeping dangerous magical beasts without a licence. The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures had inspected his zoo, paled at the inadequate safety provisions, and confiscated the creatures (which was probably a bit of luck for his neighbours). They had also imposed a very large fine.

Tonks whistled. "I didn't know there were that many Galleons."

"I always thought there must be, but I never knew where they were kept before."

"I wonder if he dealt with Ashford? Must have at some point, surely." She tapped away at the list. "No, nothing that I can see. Mr Gogol?" The searchwizard poked his head round a corner. "Was there nothing at all mentioning those two names together?"

"I'm afraid not, miss. Not in this set of documents. We wouldn't usually have sales records though -- only official sources. I could check the records of other departments if you wish?"

"Never mind," said Cassius. "Donnacha took a copy of Ashford's ledgers -- remind me to ask him about it I'll make them a copy of these." Cassius examined the instructions for a moment, then pointed his wand at the articles they'd looked at, muttering "Scriptorum corporalis". The painted versions glowed pale green for a moment, then printed copies materialised on the desk in front of him.

"Right, Tonks," he said. "Do you think you'll be able to get the hang of this now?"

"I hope so."

"Good." His face took on a wry grin. "In that case, you can sit here and wait around looking up those other names, while I go and talk to Donnacha and Arnold." He bowed ironically and left. Tonks didn't mind at all. She'd been looking forward to a chance to play around on this thing.

She consulted her notes and checked for mentions of the names 'Papadopolous', 'Freddy Farnham', and the nickname 'Trollbrain'. Although she'd harboured a faint hope of finding something useful, it was disappointed. Several Greek wizards called Papadopolous had merited mention in the files, but none of them seemed to have anything in particular to do with magical creatures. Forsyth had won numerous prizes at shows, but had otherwise failed to trouble the record-keepers. And 'Trollbrain' seemed to be a fairly common insult among the criminal fraternity, appearing in various case records.

Tonks wrote a short memo on the subject to the casewizards dealing with the enchanted piano theft, asking them to keep her and Cassius informed of any developments. With any luck, the nickname, if that was what it was, might ring a bell with them. She folded it up and threw it in their general direction; confident that the charm on the paper would carry it across to the right cubicle.

*****

Five o'clock came as a welcome relief to Tonks. It had felt like a very long day. She Apparated from the foyer back to her flat, kicked her shoes into a corner, and sat back in the comfiest chair she possessed with a sigh of relief.

Naturally, the doorbell rang just as she'd settled down nicely. She closed her eyes and silently swore, then dragged herself out to the door and yanked it open with a touch of annoyance.

"Wotcher, Princess."

"Dad!" Her tiredness vanished. "Mum! Why didn't you tell me you were coming round?"

"Thought we'd surprise you," said her father with equanimity, hugging her. "Are you going to invite us in, then?"

"Oh don't be daft, Dad. You know where the lounge is, go and sit yourself down." Her mother embraced her more sedately, but with equal affection. "It's good to see you, Mum. I'm sorry I haven't been round this last couple of weeks, I've been busy ..."

"That's all right darling, we understand." Her mother smiled at her. "Just so long as you don't let it become a habit." They followed Ted Tonks into the lounge.

"How're you doing, Princess?" he said seriously. "Enjoying it? How are they treating you?"

"Fine, Dad. It's been, well ..." -- Tonks wanted to say "a dream come true", but that sounded far too corny -- "well, great really. Cassius -- the bloke I'm teamed up with -- is a really decent old soul."

"Cassius?" said her mother curiously. "Not Cassius Scrimgeour, by any chance? I thought he retired years ago."

Tonks felt her eyebrows rise. "You know Cassius? Where from?"

"Oh, I don't really know him, Nymphadora, but I do know the Scrimgeours, of course. Quite nice people, very old family." She hesitated briefly but perceptibly. "We occasionally used to meet them socially when I was a child. Everybody seemed to think Cassius was a bit odd, of course, but I must admit" -- she giggled mischievously, in a way which had always seemed endearingly incongruous to her daughter -- "I never paid much attention to them when they dismissed people like that. I only saw him two or three times, probably, but he seemed to be a very pleasant man."

"Oh, he is. He did retire, but he came back after his wife died."

"Ah." Andromeda Tonks looked slightly embarrassed. "I'm sorry to hear that. Is he well?"

"He seems to be. We're working on quite an interesting case, but I can't really talk about that, obviously."

"Long as they're not sending you down Knockturn Alley on your own every day," said her father jocularly. Tonks winced; her father noticed and said quietly, "And if they are, don't mind us, love. Yeah, we worry about you, we're your parents. We're bound to worry when you're in a dangerous job. But we've always known you wanted to do this, and it's a good thing you're doing. You're all grown up now, Princess, you've got to do what you believe is right."

Tonks looked at her mother for her reaction. "I agree, darling. I don't suppose you realised it, but we spent a lot of time talking about this -- you're our only child, after all, we want you to be safe. But we want the best for you too. And after all we went through during ... in the war, it would be silly and wrong for us to complain about you risking yourself for a good cause. It's ... we're proud of you, Nymphadora, for doing this. Just be careful, that's all we ask."

Tonks felt her eyes moisten, and blinked a few times to clear then. "Thanks, Mum. Thanks, Dad. You don't know how much it means to me to hear you say that."

"No problem, Princess." Her father looked around, and turned to his daughter with a slightly shifty expression. "Do you mind if I have a look at your TV, kid? Just to catch the end of the news?"

His wife snorted sceptically. "You mean you want to know if your team have signed that German player yet. You never did fool me, Ted."

"Me, neither," added Tonks, grinning. "Is this the mighty Spurs again?"

"Well, sorry, Annie," he said with dignity. "And, yes, it is. I like my sport on the ground where I don't have to crick my neck to see what's going on."

Tonks picked up her wand and called "Accio remote!". A small grey box flew into her hand from down the back of the sofa, where it had somehow found its way after the last use. She pressed a button to switch on the evening news programme. Seeing her parents' raised eyebrows, she explained: "I never got round to charming the telly for wand control. I don't really watch it much, but the landlord thought it was odd that I didn't have one. Anyway, you know I was never much good at household spells."

"Yes, dear," said her mother with mild reproof, looking around at the clothes, papers, and other assorted objects strewn around the flat. "You know," she said thoughtfully, "I could always tidy this up a bit for you ..."

"Er, thanks, Mum, but there's no need." Tonks hastily turned to her father, who had his attention on the screen. "Any luck on the football, dad?"

"No," said her father gloomily. "Not a peep." He watched the weather report with a critical eye. "You know, if I ever got a Muggle job, that would be a pretty cushy number. You go in a studio, do a few minutes every day, then go home. It's not like you need Seer powers or anything.You don't even have to get it right!"

"Oh, I don't know," said Tonks with a grin. "I reckon they get it right more often than my Divination teacher ever did. If by some miracle she ever made a real prediction, I don't suppose she'd believe it herself."

Their conversation turned to other matters as the Crimestoppers programme came on. It was just a noise in the background to Tonks, so she was surprised when her mother stiffened at something on the television. She turned to see a batch of police mug shots on the screen, and hear the announcer's voiceover: "... and there is still no further news of escaped murderer Sirius Black, recently spotted after being on the run for over a year. Neighbourhood Watch patrols should keep an eye out, but on no account approach the man if seen, as he is armed and dangerous ..."

Andromeda had gone very quiet. The rest of the Black family had always been a touchy subject for her from as far back as Tonks could remember, and for the past thirteen years it had been tacitly understood by Tonks and her father that Cousin Sirius and Auntie Bella in particular were topics best avoided. Since the breakout a year before, it had, if anything, been worse; any reference to them was guaranteed to kill the conversation stone dead

"So what do they have you doing at work, then?" asked Ted in a voice that was rather louder than necessary.

"Oh, er, tracking down dodgy potion sellers," said Tonks, slightly flustered. She stopped there; that wasn't going to give away much about the case.

"Yeah?" said Ted, still attempting to ignore his wife's pursed lips and tensed body. "Not that one they've been using on our customers, I hope?"

"WHAT?!" said Tonks, horrified. It took her a moment to realise that her reaction had just given away more than she should have.

"It is?" said her father, with equal surprise. "Good heavens, Katie, they're not starting you off small, are they?" He ignored his wife's cluck of disapproval. "I hope you find out who's doing it, kid. We don't want it happening too often, it's bad for business. I mean, I know the goblins make sure they write it into the conditions for opening an account that they aren't responsible for any magical problems affecting their customers, but somebody's going to kick up a stink sooner or later."

"Yeah, well, that lot don't want us interfering, do they?" said Tonks with a trace of bitterness, remembering the notes on the Gringotts thefts that had been attached to Cassius' Jacmel file. She hesitated for a moment. "How much do you know about this, Dad?"

"Some reports went across my desk, that's all. They said someone brainwashed a couple of our customers into taking all their money out, and your lot told us they used a potion to do it. I don't think there's much we can do. Shouldn't I know about this, then?"

Tonks hesitated, then shrugged. "Sounds like it's common knowledge at your end. We did ask them to tip us off if it happened again, but they just waved the Charter of Rights at us and said they didn't have to tell us what their customers did. And apparently putting someone from the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol there to keep an eye out might be 'intimidating to their customers'. Yeah, too right with some of them, I bet."

"Yes, well, they -- er, we -- don't like you interfering. Even more than they dislike losing customers." Ted Tonks hesitated for a moment in turn. "Look, kid, would you like me to try and tip you off if it happens again?"

"Yeah! How, though? You don't work on the front desk, do you?"

"Nooo ... but there are portraits of Walter Gringott all over the building, you know. One in front of my desk, in fact, and another big one in the main hall. Human co-founder and all that. I've talked to them from time to time. I think he does get annoyed sometimes by the way the goblins refuse to cooperate. He might agree to tell me if he spots anything odd going on. If I let you know, you'd have to keep it really quiet who told you, though."

Tonks thought about it for a moment. "No problem dad. I'll just put you down as a contact in Knockturn Alley. This could be exactly what we're looking for."

"Nymphadora!" Her mother's voice was sharp, and she jumped. "Are you sure you want to encourage him? Ted, how likely is it that you could lose your job over this?"

"Well ..." said her husband, slightly shamefacedly. "I suppose if they found out they'd be really angry."

Andromeda Tonks sniffed. "Angry goblins? Wonderful."

"Don't worry, Mum," Tonks said quickly. "Only the boss would have to know who it really is, but he'll never say anything. The main thing is finding a way for you to tell me without making it obvious ... you don't have access to the Muggle phone system, do you?" She'd never tried the phone interface on her mirror phone 'mobile', and wondered how well it would actually work.

"Not in Gringotts, no. Muggle stuff doesn't work in Diagon Alley, remember? Too much magic around." At an exasperated look from his wife, he hastily added "Anyway, it would need to be something quiet. If one of the goblins came by and heard me telling you, they'd go mental. I'd send you an owl, but that wouldn't be quick enough, I suppose? Some sort of button to press, maybe?"

Tonks thought for a moment. "We'd need a description though to do us any good. Hang on, does this Gringott bloke have any spare miniature portraits lying around you could, er, borrow?"

"Don't think so. Normal sized ones, yeah, plenty of them."

"****. Wait a minute." Tonks turned to her mother with entreaty in her eyes. "Er, Mum ... "

"Yes, Nymphadora?" she said, suspiciously.

"Would you, maybe, keep a portrait in the house? Phone me if this Gringott bloke drops in and says something's going on?"

"Nymphadora ..."

"Please. Pretty please? Pretty please with dancing gnomes?"

"Well ..." She looked at her daughter and her husband with a sort of affectionate exasperation. "Oh, all right. I'm not making you any guarantees, though. If I'm out when he calls, I'm out. I don't intend to sit around waiting all day, every day on the off-chance that someone wants me to play secret agent. All right?"

Tonks hugged her mother. "Thanks, Mum. No really, thank you for doing this for me. Right, I'll make you some dinner!"

Her parents exchanged glances. Their daughter's culinary reputation had never been high. "Er, never mind, dear, you sit down and have a rest," said her mother hastily. "I'll do it."

*****

Tuesday July 28th 1994

Tonks felt in an exceptionally good mood the following morning as she strolled back to her cubicle after talking to Claymore. She'd approached him with great trepidation, but he'd listened to her information with great interest and approval, and actually used the phrase "well done". Tonks flushed with pleasure at this. Coming from Claymore, it was practically the equivalent of pinning a medal on her robes.

She was sufficiently lost in thought that it didn't register that someone was calling her name until the second or third time she heard it. She turned to look who it was.

"Miss Tonks?" It was the bald black wizard, Shacklebolt, looking at her as sternly as ever. She felt a flash of annoyance. What was his problem?

"Yes?" she said, slightly aggressively, walking over to his cubicle.

"Do you have any urgent business on hand?"

"Not really. Why?"

"I think it's time for us to have a little talk."

Tonks blinked. "Er ... OK. What about?"

"Your cousin, Sirius Black."


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Feedback Thread

8: Things the Boys and Girls Get Up To

Tuesday July 28th 1994

Tonks stared at Shacklebolt in confusion, and with a touch of trepidation. She wasn't keen to be discussing Sirius. "Well, OK, if you want to, but what for? Why you, for that matter?"

"Why me? Because I've got the job of trying to find him," said Shacklebolt in his calm voice. "And what for? Because he's still on the loose, and seems to have gone to ground again after the last sighting. And you're his cousin, and I have to check out all suspicious possibilities."

"Suspicious possibilities?" said Tonks, not liking the sound of this at all. "What suspicious possibilities? I haven't had any connection with him for a ... a decade and a half, almost! The last report I heard, he was up in Scotland!"

Shacklebolt gazed at her sceptically. "Don't you read the daily intelligence bulletins? You know, the ones that say things like 'Sirius Black reported seen in London'?"

Tonks cast her mind back slightly guiltily. There had been a series of memos circulated, but most of the time she'd been too busy with other things to read them thoroughly, and ... "OK, OK, fair point. I only glanced at them. Sorry. I got the impression they were just for background information. I'll keep a closer watch on them in future."

"Perhaps you don't even read the Daily Prophet? Or see the Muggle news? It was a big story there as well."

The Muggle news? Oh of course, that was the local crime programme Mum was upset about last night, wasn't it? "Well, I saw the story, yes ... but honestly, he's been sighted everywhere from Tyneside to Truro. Do you mean that London report was actually based on something other than speculation for once?" She shivered. The thought of her cousin being nearby wasn't really a pleasant one.

"Oh, I think so. Two Muggles coming back from the pub on a Sunday night spotted him, and they called the telephone hotline." Tonks noticed that Shacklebolt's slow, careful enunciation tended to give emphasis to what he was saying, and kept him in control of the conversation. She wondered briefly if it was his natural way of speaking, or just something he'd practised when he became an Auror. "They recognised him from the posters -- that wasn't difficult, there was one on a tree right next to them -- and he threatened them and ran away onto some waste ground."

"Are they sure?"

"Oh yes. They gave us a very clear description. They were extremely lucky, because he didn't have a wand, apparently. I daresay if he had, we'd just have found their bodies."

"What would he be doing down here, though? From what I heard, he was up near Hogwarts trying to ... finish the job he started." Tonks shuddered. I have never ever been able to understand that, she thought uneasily. Trying to kill his own godson? After the way he talked about him? I don't even want to think about it.

Shacklebolt looked at her. He did that slowly and carefully as well. "Well, that's an interesting question. You do realise that Hogwarts is closed for the summer now? And his ... uh, target lives in the south of England?"

Tonks felt her jaw drop. "Oh hell. You mean he was just passing through London on his way there?" She stopped for a moment to consider the problem. "You're sure he hasn't just gone to ground here? That old home of theirs must have been empty for years, and it must be impossible for anyone else to get in."

"It still is empty. We put tracer wards on the area as soon as he escaped, Tonks. He hasn't been anywhere within a mile of the place."

"Old friends maybe? A hideout?"

"Another interesting question. Do you know which part of London it was where they spotted him?"

She shrugged. "Haven't a clue. I'm afraid I didn't read the whole story. Sorry."

"Islington." He continued to watch her carefully. Tonks shuddered again.

"Islington! That's too close for comfort."

"Maybe not. On Coldbrook Street, to be precise."

"Well, whatev -- hang on, that's ..." She trailed off.

"The next street to your parents' house, yes. Not too far from your own flat either, is it? His favourite cousin and her daughter, the family members he was supposed to be closest to? I think you'll see what I mean when I talk about suspicious possibilities."

Tonks exploded. "So what?! Like I said, I haven't seen him for years! If I did, I'd curse him into a million pieces!"

"Would you? That's what I'd like to find out, Tonks." Shacklebolt's voice remained steady, but unfortunately that in itself made it seem threatening. "If he came around asking for your help, if he begged, if he threatened, would you really turn him away? He hasn't been seen near either of your addresses since then, but he must be hiding somewhere."

"Well he's not at my place, and I'm sure he wouldn't be at my parents ..." She stopped. "Hang on, how do you know he hasn't been seen near there?"

"We placed tracers on both of your homes, of course," said Shacklebolt, still calmly; a lot more calmly than Tonks felt. "We'd have been alerted if he turned up there. Unless he was already there, of course."

"You had no ri..." Tonks trailed off again, swallowed, and took a deep breath. "OK, I suppose you technically have the right, but why in the name of Merlin do you think I might be the sort of person who hides fugitive mass murderers, even if they are related to me? I'm an Auror!"

"Because you're a Black, Tonks."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Her voice was gradually getting louder, and some of the occupants of the nearby cubicles were glancing over at them curiously.

Shacklebolt shrugged. "You're a Black. An offshoot, but, nevertheless, that's your blood. And in this department, it's not necessarily the recommendation it might be elsewhere. They've caused us far too much trouble over the years, even on the rare occasions we've been able to do something about it. And when you get one who seems to be a decent Black at first, like your cousin, they often seem to revert to type. I have to consider the possibility, or I wouldn't be doing my job."

Tonks felt her mouth open and close a few times. She was completely at a loss how to respond to Shacklebolt's little diatribe. Her first interview had been bad enough, but she couldn't believe that after all this time the mistrust had followed her onto the actual job.

Shacklebolt had watched her carefully all the time. "You asked," he said simply. "I'm afraid I just find it hard to trust Blacks. Especially when we get suspicious happenings like this. You must have realised that."

Tonks found her voice. "If you think I'd help ... my cousin" -- she spat out the last word as if it were an obscenity -- "do you really think I'd have become an Auror, of all things?"

"Why not? It's a respectable career, after all. And even Aurors have been known to keep things secret from the Ministry, if they think they have good enough reasons." His expression suggested that he didn't particularly approve of this concept.

"Not in this case." Shacklebolt's raised eyebrows annoyed her enough to add, "You don't realise just how badly he betrayed us, do you? We looked up to him. He was my hero. My mother thought he was the one decent member of her family, the only other one who didn't give a toss about all that Nature's Nobility ****. And then ... then it turned out he'd been playing us for fools, he was just the same as the rest of them, the same kind of filth who'd sell out his best friends for the sake of his precious pure blood!" She realised dimly that she was shouting now. Shacklebolt had touched a raw nerve; this was something she too usually tried to avoid, but she couldn't stop herself. "I was in shock for a week when I heard about it! Half my classmates didn't even want to talk to me and I don't bloody blame them! The only consolation I had was that he got his darling Dark Lord blasted into pieces because of it! Served the *******s right!"

Shacklebolt watched her with a thoughtful expression. He wasn't the only one; Tonks realised with unease that the room had gone surprisingly quiet, and she had a nasty suspicion that most of the Aurors present were hanging on their words. "I see," he said softly. "Now suppose he knocks on your door one evening and tells you some tale of woe. Tells you he was tortured into telling You-Know-Who where to find his friends; or acting under the Imperius curse; or maybe even that he was framed by a Death Eater, really didn't do what you thought he did and will you please, please help him out? What will you do then, Tonks? When he appeals to the part of you that desperately wants to believe he's not the monster you thought he was?"

"He won't." Tonks was speaking softly as well now, albeit coldly. Kingsley Shacklebolt's way of talking did at least help to calm things down if you let him run on for a while.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, because he'd never get the words out. I'd kill him before he had the chance." The last sentence hung in the air for a few moments. Tonks had the impression that the occupants of the nearby cubicles were trying very hard not to do anything which might make a noise, such as breathing. Which was why she literally jumped when someone coughed behind her.

It was Cassius. He was smiling gently as usual, but Tonks thought she could detect a touch of annoyance behind it.

"Can I have my partner back now, Kingsley old chap?" he asked. He said it politely enough, but this time Tonks definitely recognised an underlying hint of steel. Even though it really wasn't the time for it, she couldn't suppress the mischievous thought that she'd love to see which of them would win a Remaining Calm In The Face Of Extreme Provocation contest. Shacklebolt had the style, but Cassius had the experience.

Shacklebolt shrugged again. "Of course, Cassius. I think she's made her position on the matter quite clear." He nodded ironically in Tonks' general direction. "Just remember, Tonks, don't, ah, try any freelance work on the Sirius Black case."

"Fine," said Tonks curtly. "I won't." She trailed Cassius back towards their cubicles, trying not to notice the pairs of eyes that followed her and looked hastily away whenever she glanced in their direction. Cassius sat down and gave her a hesitant smile.

"You know, I got the distinct impression there that you weren't too happy with your cousin."

Tonks looked at him in embarrassment. "How bad was it?"

Cassius mimed a thoughtful look. "Well, I'd say he'll stay away if he really is anywhere in London, because he'll definitely have heard you threaten him. Frankly, there's a good chance he heard you if he's still in Scotland."

Tonks sighed. "It just slipped out, I didn't really mean it." Honesty compelled her to add, "Well, at least I don't think so. I hope I'm not the sort of person who'd kill for revenge. Not even if ... I don't know, a friend was killed in front of me. But ... I've realised over the last few weeks that I really do hate him. Just like I hate all of them who were with You-Know-Who's merry little band. I suppose it's been worse since he escaped."

"You were close to him once?" asked Cassius gently.

"Yeah." Tonks sprawled back in her chair with a bleak look. "He used to visit us a lot, you know, when I was a young kid. I thought he was really cool, the nearest thing I had to a proper uncle? My mum always got on well with him; both of them were more or less disowned by their parents because they refused to go along with the pure-blood stuff. I mean, once Auntie Bella" -- she practically snarled the name -- "had been paired off with that Lestrange git, my gran started trying to set my mum up with his brother! Keep everything in the family! She wasn't having any of it, of course. She'd met my dad at school, and apparently Uncle Sirius egged them on. He was really proud of her ... well, we thought he was."

She paused, with pain in her eyes. "I still can't quite comprehend it, you know? Do you honestly think he could have been a Death Eater all that time?" There was a plea in her voice.

Cassius looked thoughtful again; this time apparently for real. "I suppose he could have been turned late on in the war," he said hesitantly. "It happened sometimes. I remember one case of a man from a pureblood family -- Jugson, his name was -- who had a Muggle-born wife. In public he was very much against everything You-Know-Who stood for. I knew many of his family; they were actually quite decent people for the most part, but they did strongly disapprove of his marriage. I'm afraid that's always been the case among the upper-class pureblood families. Apparently most of his old friends gave him the cold shoulder because of it as well." He paused, with a distant look.

"What happened to him?"

"What happened? One day he must have ... well, just cracked, I imagine. Wanted to come in from out of the cold. He dropped out of sight all of a sudden, so naturally under the circumstances we suspected he might have been murdered by You-Know-Who's lot. It used to happen often in those days."

"I know," said Tonks quietly.

"Ah. So, anyway, we checked his house. When we did, we found his wife's body ... Let's just say that what he'd done to her wasn't a pleasant sight."

Tonks felt her mouth fall open. "He killed her himself? You're sure? It couldn't have been a Death Eater attack?"

"Apparently not. His defensive wards were still up all over the house, it took us hours to get in." Cassius shook his head. "Unfortunately, no-one else could have done it without being noticed. They lived on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, it wasn't as if the neighbours wouldn't recognise people doing magic when they saw it."

He paused again, apparently lost for a moment in old horrors. "The next we heard, one of our people tracked down a gang of Death Eaters to a big house just outside Ipswich, and we put together a task force for a surprise assault. One of the people we captured turned out to be Jugson, and before you ask, no, he wasn't under Imperius or anything else. We lost three good Aurors and a couple of bystanders bringing in him and his friends -- well, the ones who survived, at least. As far as I know, they're still keeping your aunt and uncle company in Azkaban."

"Good riddance." Tonks winced, albeit only internally, That last remark had come out with far more vehemence than she'd intended. Cassius looked at her uncertainly.

"I'm surprised you still feel as strongly about it, Tonks," he said slowly. "And a bit worried, truth be told. I know it's a cliché, and you were probably told this so many times during training that you're fed up with hearing it -- but you genuinely can't afford to let personal feelings get in the way when you're doing this job. I mean, everyone who saw that Jugson chap's wife, or who knew the people we lost in the battle, would have loved to take him apart slowly, piece by piece. But we didn't, we just shipped him off to Azkaban. Although that hellhole is punishment enough, I suppose."

Tonks sighed. "Come on Cassius, give me a break. I suppose ... I never realised I was so sensitive on the point till people here started calling me on it. It's been, what, thirteen years now? The war ended, and then my aunt finally stepped out of line and got herself caught, and after that we managed to put it all behind us. But when Unc ... when he broke out, it brought back a lot of bad memories for us."

"'Us'?" inquired Cassius quietly.

"Me and my parents. You know, the 'good Blacks'." The last two words were spoken with more than a trace of embittered sarcasm.

"The sheep of the Black family, in fact." He made an admirable attempt at a straight face while saying this, but couldn't keep his mouth from twitching at the edges. Tonks felt anger flare for a moment, but then said shamefacedly, "Yeah, I suppose so. Strange lot, aren't we? The Muggle-born, the blood traitor, the half-blood freak. We might as well have had a big target painted on our house. I'm amazed we all survived."

Cassius grinned. "I think you'll do, Tonks." He hesitated, then the grin returned. "You're doing me good, you know that? It's been so many years since I was a real tyro -- first time around, that is -- I'd forgotten how it felt to be young and enthusiastic. Your attitude must be rubbing off; I'm actually starting to enjoy this again. I must remember to thank Egbert Claymore next time I see him."

Tonks snickered. "I'm not sure he'll appreciate that." She paused. "Look, thanks for rescuing me from that sod Shacklebolt. I might have said something I'd have regretted. Well. OK, said something more I'd have regretted."

"No problem. And don't be too hard on Kingsley, he's just doing his job. He's a very good chap when you get to know him and work with him."

Tonks shrugged. "Well, don't take offence, Cassius, but I really hope that isn't for a while yet." She looked at the pile of work awaiting completion on her desk, and grinned at him mischievously. "Right then, if you don't mind my young person's attitude, all I've got to say is -- last one to finish their report buys the drinks after work!"

*****

Wednesday July 29th 1994

Tonks Apparated into the Ministry rather later than she'd intended the following morning. She was suffering from a hangover that even a dose of potion hadn't completely alleviated, although as compensation she had the pleasant recollection of having successfully outlasted her partner, drink for drink. She was rather hazy about the details of their conversation, but could vaguely remember Cassius entertaining her with a series of thoroughly scurrilous tales of what Auror work had been like in the old days. One of these days, I'll have to get him to tell me again when I'm sober, she reflected. She glanced at the clock, winced at how late she was, then brightened. Oh well. At least with this job, you can keep odd hours and put it down to 'working on a case'.

Cassius wasn't anywhere to be seen in the office when she arrived, but Rhiannon Davies was there, talking to the man in the Muggle police uniform again. Tonks tried to watch them out of the corner of her eye while dutifully reading the daily intelligence bulletin. The man looked uncomfortable and somewhat overawed, but was paying close attention to whatever it was they were talking about. Davies noticed that she was looking at them and winked.

The bulletin wasn't especially interesting. Most of the reports were brief updates on cases of which she only had the vaguest recollection. However, she was pleased to see that Donnacha's report on the results of the Farley interrogation was included, and that Cassius had added a note on what they'd learned from the WEB. Out of curiosity she looked for Rhiannon Davies' name, but it wasn't listed on any report as far as she could see.

She glanced up to find that Cassius had just arrived, looking somewhat the worse for wear. She wondered guiltily if she'd encouraged him to overdo it the previous evening, but he managed a rather wan smile as she sat down.

"You know, Tonks," he said, in a voice that was hoarser than usual, "I haven't had a session like that since I left the service all those years ago. I can remember why now. You feel like death warmed up in the morning."

"Oops. Sorry."

"No, don't apologise. You didn't exactly force the stuff down my throat at wandpoint. I went into it with my eyes open -- well, at least they were open for the first bottle or so." He winced and put a hand to his temple. "Probably overconfidence on my part. I used to be quite good at it, you know; I even outdrank my Yankee counterparts sometimes when I was over there, and that's not easily done. Unfortunately, like so many things in life, if you don't do it for a while you don't realise how out of practice you are until you actually try it again. I hope I didn't embarrass myself."

"Don't think so. Don't know if I'd remember if you had though, mate."

"Ah." He paused. "Thank you for last night, Tonks."

Tonks blinked. "Thanks? Are you sure?"

"Yes. You made me feel like -- what's the phrase -- 'one of the boys' again. I haven't really been one since I came back. I appreciate it, Tonks. Really, I do. It was worth the aftereffects to be able to feel like that again."

Tonks grinned at him. "Don't mention it."

Cassius grinned back. "All right, I won't. Mind you, I don't think I'll try it again for a while. I always knew you were going to be trouble."

"Trouble's my middle name, mate. Well, OK, you know it isn't, but it should have been. I wouldn't have minded answering to that at school. It would have fit beautifully."

"Spent half your time in detention, eh? When I was at school -- yes, Tonks, even I was a schoolboy once -- I used to hand those out," said Cassius reminiscently. "Only because I had to, though. We prefects were meant to keep the little wretches in order. I don't remember we ever managed it, mind you, but we were meant to."

"I was one of the little wretches none of the prefects could keep in order," said Tonks, grinning. "The Metamorphmagus stuff really helped. Well, for a year or so anyway, until they cottoned on."

"Oh yes?"

"Yeah, if I was where I wasn't supposed to be and a prefect came along, I'd just change my appearance and give them a false name. Most of them didn't know who all the first-years were and didn't care anyway, it was easy."

She chortled as a particular set of escapades popped up from her memory. "I gave one poor Hufflepuff fifth-year a real runaround. He'd see me disappear into a room looking like myself, then pop out again the next minute as somebody else with a butter-wouldn't-melt expression. Then he'd go in the room and find it empty. He was horribly confused, poor boy. I could practically see the thoughts going through his mind: Wait a minute -- she must have changed her appearance! No, hang on, she's only a first-year. No way can she know how to do advanced Transfiguration. The other one must be hiding, or maybe there's a secret passage I don't know about. ****! It was hilarious."

Cassius sat back and chuckled. "You know, I'm very glad we didn't have anyone like you around when I was a prefect. I think I might have just handed the badge back as a bad job." He looked around guiltily. "Anyway, enough of your terrible past. And mine. I've a feeling I probably slandered my erstwhile colleagues quite outrageously last night, so it's probably best we're both a bit hazy about it. We'd better do some work, or Claymore will drop by and turn us into polecats."

They spent what was left of the morning reviewing the information obtained from the previous day's investigations, sneaked out for an extended lunch break, then returned to their desks. "Did you get Ashford's sales reports from Don?" she asked as a thought struck her.

"Ah, yes, I'd forgotten about them." He rummaged among the paperwork on his desk, and threw over a selection of duplicated notes. "Here we are. They'd done business together a few times, but Arkwright wasn't a big customer. Arnold didn't even have a picture of him to show Farley. I suppose he was only looking for unusual creatures, and the bulk of Ashford's trade is in the common ones people usually want -- Crups, Puffskeins, Kneazles, the occasional winged horse or Hippogriff, things like that."

"Right," said Tonks, glancing down the list. "Let's see ... Ashford sold him a school of Plimpys, whatever they are -- oh, some kind of fish apparently. A jarvey ... I remember those, like foul-mouthed ferrets, they're nothing much to worry about. And ... well, well, well, a breeding pair of Snidgets. Managed to get a licence to sell them somehow. That set Arkwright back a fair few Galleons. Seems to be it though. Oh, apart from the cages and stuff."

"Cages?"

"Cages for large creatures, 'magically reinforced and fully guaranteed' apparently. Sold in job lots of a dozen. Couldn't have been that much good if his dragon got out of them."

"Maybe he should ask for his money back," Cassius chortled. "He could probably use some after the fine they slapped on him."

Tonks looked up as a thought struck her. "Does everything Ashford sells go through his books?"

Cassius looked at her sharply. "You mean, might he have sold things illegally? Good question. We didn't find anything to suggest that he traded on the black market, but he's a fairly ruthless businessman. Donnacha said his impression of him was that he's not the type to risk a successful legitimate company for a small illegal profit on the side, but might consider it if the amount of money involved was large enough."

"Right. Technically, Ashford and Arkwright aren't part of our case, are they? Do we do anything else with regard to looking into them?"

Cassius shrugged. "Another good question. I'll go and see what Donnacha and Arnold are planning to do. Maybe we can team up with them; there's bound to be a lot of overlap, after all. See you tomorrow, Tonks." He turned back towards her as he walked away. "Oh, and if you feel like a drink after work -- ask someone younger this time!"

Tonks grinned to herself as she turned back to her desk and a couple of memos zoomed into her cubicle in-tray. Hey, at least the boozing session made Cassius feel welcome again! That wasn't a bad idea, was it?

"That's not a bad idea, Tonks." She jumped at the voice behind her and spun round in her chair. It was Bentley Williamson, wearing what she could only describe as his most irritating smirk.

"What isn't?" she asked, somewhat confused by the way he'd echoed her thought.

"Asking someone younger for a drink after work. Me, for example. Young, charming, devastatingly handsome, and most importantly, available." He grinned at her.

Tonks was saved from the need to make an immediate reply by the loud giggles that broke out behind him. Williamson turned sharply, revealing Rhiannon Davies fighting to keep a straight face. "Sorry, Ben," she said. "But I think I just won my bet with Ellie on how long it would take you to ask young Tonks here out. She thought it'd be at least another couple of weeks, I said you couldn't be that subtle if you tried."

"Well thanks for that, Rhi," said Williamson, evidently ruffled. "If you'd let me in on the secret, I'd have asked earlier and you could have lumped on the Galleons."

Tonks snorted. "Actually, he did ask me earlier," she said. "Last week. You could have collected already."

Davies shook her head in mock reproach. "Oh, Ben," she said. "So soon? Didn't your daddy ever tell you that no girl finds desperation like that attractive?"

"I get enough to tide me over," said Williamson with as much dignity as he could muster in the face of renewed giggling from both women. "And you might notice that young Dora here hasn't actually said yes or no yet."

Tonks swallowed her final giggle and shook her head. "Sorry, Ben, but I reckon I'd be better off dating a jarvey. It'd make more intelligent conversation." She couldn't resist adding, "And it's probably better looking," which brought more giggles from Davies.

Williamson scowled, but clearly realised that the best he was going to achieve at this point was to retire as gracefully as possible. "Well, it seems that neither of you girls know a good thing when you see one," he said with mock sorrow. "Pity. Still, you know where to find me if you change your mind." Tonks had to give him credit for panache as he strode back to his cubicle, but it still didn't make her inclined to take him up on his offer.

Rhiannon Davies looked at her. "He's not a bad lad, you know," she said fairly. "Just lets his ego get ahead of him sometimes."

"I know," said Tonks. "It's not that he's really bad looking or anything, but I mean ... oh, maybe if he deflates his head a bit I'd think about it. No, make that deflates his head a lot. And calling me Dora doesn't exactly help his chances much. Anyway, never mind, did you want to tell me something?"

"Oh yes, my dear. How would you like a temporary job?"

"Tempor ... you mean the World Cup?!"

Rhiannon grinned. "I had a word with Mr Ludo Bagman, and he practically leapt at the chance to add you to the roster. I'd love to say this was entirely down to my feminine wiles, but he told me that Crouch man in International Magical Co-operation has been sending memos round saying he wants to boost the security presence. Wants as many Aurors as he can get. Apparently his office are going to be contacting Claymore directly as well to ask who he can spare. I wouldn't fancy being the poor sod who does that."

Tonks dismissed the problems of the Department of International Magical Co-operation with a wave of her hand. The news that she'd get to see the World Cup Final live was far more interesting. "Rhiannon! That's just great! Who will I be working with?"

"Me, with any luck. I asked Ludo to put you on my team; said you'd only just started work here, and you were still learning and not doing anything important yet." She held a hand up placatingly when Tonks squawked in protest. "I know, I know, Cassius has got a bee in his bonnet about this Liquor stuff, and I suppose he could be right. You'll have to go and work on it if anything breaks, but otherwise you're supposed to help us make sure the spectators don't actually riot. Can't see that being too much of a problem. We'll have to watch the match from ground level, but hey, we're in!"

"Brilliant!" Tonks suppressed an urge to dance across the floor of the Auror offices as Claymore passed by, escorting a young red-headed man towards his office. That jogged her memory. "Hey, Rhiannon," she said, "I've been meaning to ask you -- who's the bloke in the Muggle police uniform you were showing around? There wasn't anything from you about it on the daily bulletin."

"You read that? Wow, I'll have to be more conscientious, I didn't know anyone bothered." She chuckled, then quickly sobered up. "You wouldn't have seen anything on there about the developments on that case, because there haven't been any. I've been able to give him a few hints about where to look, but we're basically just waiting for something to happen. Not fun."

Tonks felt her jaw drop again. "You mean he's a real Muggle detective? What on earth was he doing in here?"

"Liaising." It appeared to dawn on her that Tonks really didn't have any idea what she was talking about. "Sorry, I thought you'd have seen it if you read the bulletins. To put it bluntly, someone's been killing a Muggle a month for the last year or so, and I'm afraid it looks like it's a wizard doing it." She paused to scowl. "He, or she, tortures them first, then brands some kind of sign onto them before they kill them. Very unpleasant, and we have absolutely no idea who's doing it or what their sadistic little symbol means."

Tonks whistled. "Yeuch. How come I haven't seen this in the Prophet, then?"

"Because you probably don't read short paragraphs on page 29," said Davies bitterly. "And that's all the Prophet will bother to print when it's only Muggles getting killed. I suppose that might help though, we're trying to avoid 'letting the killer find out how much we know about the case' which for the record is approximately sod all. We managed to persuade the Muggle police to assign this Superintendent Nelson to the case; luckily he's got a cousin whose kid went to Hogwarts so he already knew about magic. I'm working on the case from our end, and he's telling them I'm a 'psychic' if anyone asks what I'm doing there."

"You're a Seer?" enquired Tonks, curiously. She'd always found the stories of Seers -- real ones, anyway -- quite impressive. "Seriously?"

"No of course not, you idiot, don't be daft. I've got to have some cover story though, haven't I?"

"Ah. I suppose if you were, nobody would makes bets with you about my love life. Which for the record, is also at the moment approximately sod all. It'll keep." Tonks glanced around at her desk; she really wasn't in the mood for re-reading the same reports for the third time. She picked up the memos, but they weren't important enough to warrant more than a quick glance, simply noting a redesigned expenses claim form and the date when tickets for the Ministry Halloween Ball would go on sale. "Oh, stuff this for today, Rhiannon. It's nearly five o'clock. Coming?"

"Yeah. It's been a long day."

They strolled down the corridor together past the daily hurricane and took the lifts to the Atrium, into the usual bustle of dozens of Ministry wizards and witches going home after work. Tonks glanced up as she bumped into someone; then froze, looking at a witch on the other side of the foyer who was standing in line for one of the Floo fireplaces.

"Rhiannon," she said urgently, pointing at the witch, "Who's she?"

"Her?" Davies stared at Tonks in bemusement as the witch stepped into the flames and vanished, too far away for Tonks to hear what her destination was. "Haven't a clue, some Ministry official by the look of her. Why?"

"Because I've seen her before. Coming out of an alcove at the Transfigured Toad."


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9. Good Auror, Bad Auror

Thursday July 30th 1994

When Cassius Scrimgeour arrived at Auror Headquarters the following morning, Tonks was already waiting for him, feeling rather pleased with herself. She'd remembered that there were photographs of everybody who worked at the Ministry on record -- she'd spent a dull fifteen minutes posing for hers on her first day -- so once she'd had the clue that the woman was a worker at the Ministry, it had been relatively easy to find out who she was. A couple of hours the previous evening had been spent putting Gogol's painting to work, and she now had several photographs of the rather ordinary-looking woman that she'd seen leaving in the Floo, together with a name to attach to them.

Cassius had obviously noticed her excitement. "Hello, Tonks," he said to her in surprise. "What's the matter?"

In reply, Tonks spread the photographs on his desk. "Mrs Beatrice Easton," she said smugly. "Works part-time in the Pest Advisory Bureau. Also an occasional visitor to the Transfigured Toad, where she talks to dodgy-looking wizards in alcoves, then rushes out as if she doesn't want to be seen. Think that's worth investigating?"

Cassius studied the pictures carefully. "Does that mean you saw her when you went there the other day with young Bentley?"

"Yep."

"You're sure it was her?"

"Definite. I'm pretty good with faces. I always did study them to work how to do morphing stuff, and they trained us to be observant as well, right?"

He looked at her thoughtfully. "Very well, I'll agree with you this far; it does look a trifle suspicious. What did you have in mind?"

"Haul her in for questioning?"

Cassius smiled patiently. "We can't, Tonks. It's not against the law to go in a pub, after all. We've no idea what she was doing there. It could be something perfectly innocuous -- or at any rate, nothing to do with us."

"We've always thought it was a centre for illegal trades, though, haven't we? Ben said so. And I looked the records up, we've been suspicious of that place for ages."

"We've had suspicions, yes. Had proof, no. The patrons don't exactly talk to us much. You don't know that she was buying something she shouldn't have been, and even if she was it probably has no connection to what we're working on. She could just have been -- oh, I don't know, meeting her secret lover or something." He winked.

"I doubt it. I couldn't see his face properly, but from the way he walked, I'd say he was a lot younger than her."

The patient smile reappeared. "That was just an illustration, Tonks. It could be anything. We do have to be careful about what we do. Even Aurors have to have some proof before they throw accusations around."

"Oh." Tonks looked crestfallen. "So you don't think we should investigate her then?"

"I didn't say that." He paused to think. "Were there any notes on her in the Auror files? Any convictions, known bad habits, evidence of corruption in her Ministry work?"

"No, not really," said Tonks with a touch of disappointment. "There isn't any mention of her having underworld connections in the confidential records -- well, other than the one I just added, anyway."

"I see. What's her background like? Job? Home life? Is there anything we know about her?"

Tonks riffled through the sheets of duplicated parchment on her desk. "She's 47, married, one grown-up child, who left home some time ago. 'Home' is in Worthing, by the way, south coast. Husband works as a broom salesman, spends a lot of time travelling around the country on business. She works three days a week doing administrative stuff for the pest advice people. Erm ... helps organise local Bring and Fly sales, little things like that. Generally seems respectable, not at all the sort of person you'd expect to see in a dubious pub near Knockturn Alley."

Cassius pondered this. "Didn't you tell Bentley that you were willing to go undercover at the Transfigured Toad and look around?"

"Well, yes, although I haven't got around to it yet, obviously ..."

"Very well, then. We may be able to kill two pixies with one curse here. If she goes in that pub again, we'll follow her. Suspicion is just enough for us to legally cast a tracer ward to alert us if she goes anywhere near it." Tonks brightened at the suggestion. "We can key it to those panic buttons, in fact. Should it activate, you get there as quickly as possible, follow her in and observe."

*****

Thursday August 6th 1994

Tonks' optimism lasted until the weekend -- the ward casting was interesting, and the Friday following, as the last day of the month, had been a red-letter day (literally so, as she had put a Colour-Changing Charm on the appropriate page of her desk calendar). Cassius observed this with polite bafflement, but Tonks didn't care; the date might not be significant to anyone else, but to her it marked the day she got her very first payslip as an Auror. She thought she might take it home and frame it.

The next week was mostly rather discouraging, though.

O'Gregan and Cornworthy dropped by her cubicle occasionally to give her a rundown on their progress in the Farley case -- or to be more precise, on their lack of it. They reported that they'd been unable to find any way in which Ashford's nephew and nieces could have got to London and back from their distant locations without being missed or observed. ("There were no Floo traces for them, no sign of illegal Portkey use, and frankly I don't think they could Apparate further than the next street to save their lives," explained O'Gregan gloomily. "And none of them have any dubious contacts that we're aware of." )

Tonks asked hopefully if they'd inform her of anything of interest that turned up in their preliminary investigations of the material from Farley's interrogation, but the results there were equally negative. There was no information on the blonde woman ("Sorry, Tonks, she probably was too good to be true," said Cornworthy sadly). Arkwright the erstwhile zookeeper, now down on his luck, had said little that was repeatable when interviewed ("He made some suggestions," O'Gregan told her, "but I don't think any of them were physically possible without the use of a wand.") And although not all of Ashford's trade rivals were able to show alibis for the night of the attack, there was nothing to connect them with it either. ("I wouldn't say they actually regretted what Farley did -- well, except that he didn't succeed, perhaps -- but we can't find any links with him yet," said Cornworthy.) Tonks got the distinct impression that they were hoping she and Cassius might find some way to progress, approaching the case from the other end.

However, Beatrice Easton stayed away from the Transfigured Toad, which Tonks was sure could only be ascribed to sheer stubbornness. And another trip down Knockturn Alley as Mrs Anonymous produced little that was even worth a passing mention in the daily bulletin.

By the following Thursday, which was proving especially dull, she'd more or less given up any expectation of quick results. So, when the button on her desk buzzed while she was idly sitting reading a memo from Claymore, it didn't immediately register.

Cassius, doing much the same in the next cubicle, looked up. "Tonks! That's the tracer alarm!"

"What?! Oh, hell." She raced out of the office towards the lifts, with Cassius following at a more sedate pace. She cursed the defensive wards that stopped her Apparating out. As she rode down to the foyer, she was transfiguring her robes into the kind of scruffy attire necessary to fit in at the Transfigured Toad, and changing her face into that of a young man, drawing extremely curious looks from her fellow passengers.

She didn't think the new face was particularly impressive -- she didn't practice male faces very often -- bur she'd been forced to agree with Cassius that a strange man was far less likely to attract notice in a place like the Toad than an unaccompanied woman. ("The Metamorphmagus thing doesn't allow me to change my basic, er, anatomy," she'd explained, reddening slightly, "but I can do more or less what I like with the shape of what I've got. So I can shrink my boobs down and expand the hair follicles on the face to do a convincing stubble. And if you get the shape change right it alters your larynx, so you get the voice for free.") With any luck, long robes and a hood would hide any imperfections in her disguise. It was the sort of attire that was almost de rigeur in a place like the Toad anyway.

She Disapparated as soon as the lift reached the foyer floor and, as before, appeared just round the corner from the pub. Taking a deep breath, she strolled in through the door, looking a lot more confident than she felt, and went over to the bar. McAllister, the landlord, was there, but he gave no sign of recognition. That made her breathe slightly more easily. No reason why he should recognise me, of course. I transform better than that.

"Firewhiskey and ginger ale, a little ice," she said, in her best attempt at a gruff voice. While the barman was pouring her drink, she glanced around. Her luck was in; Beatrice Easton was sitting alone at a table in one corner, apparently waiting for someone, and looking very uncomfortable. She seemed to be attempting to be as inconspicuous as possible. It wasn't working; she was attracting a number of curious glances from other patrons, which made it easier for Tonks to observe her as well without her actions standing out from the crowd.

As Tonks watched, she saw the woman's face light up with relief. A man walked over to her table and muttered something to her; they got up and disappeared into one of the alcoves. His face was hooded, and he appeared to have some kind of scarf around the lower part, which meant that he fitted right in to his surroundings. From the little she could see, though, he might easily have been the same as the man she'd seen previously.

Tonks sipped at the Firewhiskey thoughtfully. It was obvious that she had to get closer, but how? Oh well, she decided, I'm just going to have to take the unicorn by the horn. Only way. She turned to the barman. "I'm going to wait in one of those," she said, nodding at the alcoves. "If Mickey Kerrigan comes in, tell him where I am." With that, she confidently walked over to the alcove next to the one into which Mrs Easton had disappeared (hoping fervently that there wasn't a real Mickey Kerrigan anywhere near at hand. If there was, she was going to have to do some very fast talking.)

The landlord had thoughtfully provided curtains for all the alcoves to ensure his patrons had privacy for whatever business they chose to conduct. Tonks was glad of this; as what she was going to do would look very suspicious if anyone could see her.

She took out the 'knife' that K had issued her. One of the useful little functions she'd discovered when reading the instruction book was an eavesdropping tool. She flipped out a couple of small metal studs from one of its many little enchanted compartments, placed one in her ear, then tapped the other with her wand and placed it against the alcove wall, where it adhered magically .

The voices coming from the other side of the dividing partition were indistinct. Tonks had half expected this, but that didn't make it any less annoying. There was evidently a privacy charm on the partition. She wasn't sure whether the people in the next alcove had cast it as a precaution, or if the landlord had done it for all of the alcoves as an additional service. Tonks would have put Galleons -- well, Sickles anyway -- on it being the latter. It was that sort of place.

The eavesdropping gadget turned out to be reasonably good at counteracting the effects of privacy charms, but not perfect, and Easton and the wizard were talking in frustratingly low voices. Tonks could make out the general tone of what they were saying, but many of the actual words were inaudible. She swore under her breath; if she hadn't rushed out so quickly, she could have brought along a dose of the Sense-Enhancing Potion.

Too late to worry about that now. She caught a reference to the payment of a fairly large sum of money for goods supplied -- no surprise there -- spoken by Easton in a pleading tone of voice, and something about her husband's activities while travelling from her companion, said with a definite sneer. The thing that really made her prick up her ears was a reference to 'bottles of potion' by the wizard. As far as she could tell, they were talking about something that Easton was going to be giving to her husband without his knowledge; she didn't sound convinced about it, but the wizard was replying in a tone of breezy reassurance.

Tonks was caught by surprise when she heard their footsteps leaving the alcove; the privacy charm must have blotted out the noise of them getting up from their seats. She hesitated for a moment; it was going to look extremely suspicious if she followed them out immediately, but there wasn't much else she could do. And after all, she reflected, she didn't have to come here with the same appearance ever again.

She stumbled as she left the alcove, forgetting the step and knocking into a table, which slowed her down just enough to allow her quarry to leave the pub. Cursing again, she followed them quickly, hoping that the rest of the customers were too concerned with their own affairs to be paying much attention to a stranger. Her luck held; the landlord gave her an annoyed look when she didn't straighten the table, and one or two drinkers glanced up at her with a smirk, but then returned to their own conversations.

It took a moment or two for her eyes to adjust to the bright sunlight outside the dingy pub. She couldn't see Beatrice Easton anywhere, but that wasn't a cause for concern; if everything had gone according to plan, Cassius should have been waiting outside to pick up her trail, as he knew her appearance from the photographs in the Ministry records. Tonks would follow whoever she was meeting, since Cassius wouldn't be able to recognise him if they left the pub separately.

She looked around quickly; Diagon Alley was crowded today, with many foreign-looking wizards and witches gawking at the shop windows. She spotted the man just as he turned the corner into Knockturn Alley. No surprise there, either. He was moving at quite a fair pace, glancing round casually every now and again. She pursued him as quickly as she could without being too obvious, looking round uncomfortably. Stealth and Tracking had always been her weakest subject during Auror training; although she'd somehow scraped a pass mark, it had been a close-run thing.

She followed at what was apparently a casual stroll, although making sure to keep one hand close to her wand. The wizard walked rapidly down the narrow street, slowing about a third of the way down to enter a large shop. Tonks nodded in recognition when she caught up; the sign above the window read 'Borgin & Burkes'. She watched the doorway as best she could while pretending to examine the goods in a window on the other side of the street (a dusty display of shrunken heads that looked as if it hadn't been changed in years).

She wondered if there was any way that she could manage to cast an inconspicuous Tracking Charm on the wizard as he came out. It was an interesting little spell that Aurors were taught early on in their training, which allowed them to use their wand as a pointer to show the distance and direction of their target; it came in useful occasionally, but suffered from a couple of severe disadvantages if the target saw you using it. Firstly, it was easy to cast a counter-charm on themselves. And secondly, it was hard to explain away what you were doing without getting yourself hexed.

The wizard came out of the shop about ten minutes later and turned back towards Diagon Alley, nodding at people he met, and checking shop windows. In order to remain inconspicuous, Tonks was forced to stay well back, out of effective wand aiming range, until he reached the end of Knockturn Alley; and at that point her luck ran out. The wizard looked around, and with a shrug, Disapparated.

Under her breath, Tonks muttered a number of potent words that she wouldn't be putting in her report.

*****

Cassius wasn't there when she arrived back at Auror Headquarters and slumped dejectedly into her chair. She reached for a quill and parchment and started to scribble down notes on the results, or lack thereof, of the day's activities. A paper aeroplane drifted into her in-tray, and she unfolded it listlessly. It was a printed memo from the Department of Magical Games and Sports:

Dear Miss Tonks

A formal introduction and training session for security staff at the Quidditch World Cup will take place on Wednesday 12th August in the main Meeting Room on Level Seven. It is expected that personnel will be addressed by Bartemius Crouch of the Department of International Magical Co-operation, Albert Benedict, British/Irish Representative to the Union of European Quidditch Associations, and Senior Auror Liaison Warren Dawlish. The session commences at 10am sharp and is expected to last until approximately 4pm. Lunch will be provided. Please confirm receipt of this memorandum, and inform the Department immediately if you are unable to attend.

Tonks reached for a memo form to write a reply, then noticed a handwritten postscript. A huge grin spread across her face as she read it:

Your charming friend Rhiannon told me you were a Wasps fan. I hope this will be of some use to you!

My very best wishes to Nymphadora Tonks,
Ludo Bagman

Tonks let out of whoop of glee. Just this once, she didn't even mind the use of her full name. This was another thing she was going to take home and frame! She was still laughing happily when Cassius arrived and looked at her with curiosity.

"Did you get him then?"

Tonks sobered up (a little, anyway). "No, unfortunately. He Disapparated. How about Mrs Easton?"

"Stepped into the Floo station in Diagon Alley and went back home -- I managed to get close enough to hear where she was going, but I could hardly follow her into her house without a warrant. Or something concrete to base suspicion on, at any rate. Did you learn anything useful?"

Tonks described her visit to the Transfigured Toad and the subsequent trip down Knockturn Alley briefly. "So we're not much further on, I guess," she finished. "Pity. I'd like to know what potion she was feeding her old man. You never know, it could be the one we're after."

Cassius considered this. "It would be a stroke of luck if it was ... You know, this might just be enough to work with," he said. "Perhaps we could call on her and play good Auror, bad Auror? It would be mostly bluff, of course, but you'd be surprised how often that works with people who aren't hardened villains. And I very much doubt she is, not from the way you described her behaviour."

Tonks perked up at the prospect of doing something active. "Suits me," she said. "Which of us is going to be the good Auror?"

"Me, I think," said Cassius apologetically. "I've never really been very good at playing the, erm, the 'heavy', I believe it's called." He grinned. "How about if you be, oh I don't know -- the overenthusiastic, out-of-control young investigator eager for results any way you can get them? And I'll be the world-weary Auror with half an eye on retirement who just wants to make things easy? I'm sure we could do that."

Tonks smiled back. "Works for me. I'll make myself look forbidding. When shall we do it?"

Cassius pulled out the set of notes on Beatrice Easton that Tonks had duplicated for him. "Let's see ... actually, tomorrow might be as good a time as any. She doesn't work Fridays, and apparently her husband is away on business. Strike while the iron's hot?"

Tonks nodded. "It's a deal."

"Very well," said Cassius. "Meet me here tomorrow at nine, and we'll Floo straight over. I'm almost sure they have a station in Worthing, there are more wizards down on the south coast than you'd expect. Handy for the Continent." He grinned again, mischievously. "And that will give you the whole evening to practice being mean and nasty. I don't suppose it should require too much extra effort, really."

He ducked the screwed-up piece of parchment Tonks threw at him as they both burst into laughter.

*****

Tonks arrived at work early the following morning in order to look up the Ministry recommendations for travel to Worthing. It turned out that there was indeed a Floo and Portkey station there, down an obscure side street, inside a small office that the Ministry had purchased for the purpose.

By the time Cassius arrived at ten to nine she was already getting fidgety, to his great amusement. Both made sure to slip their Auror badges into their pockets, ready to be fixed onto their clothing in prominent positions once they were out of sight of any Muggles. There was no point in trying to be anonymous this time; the whole idea was for them to arrive at Beatrice Easton's door looking both official and unfriendly.

Tonks had in fact practiced being mean and nasty the previous night, and experimented with making herself look as butch as possible. She eventually settled for shortening her hair to a wiry, close-cropped style, and giving herself a squarish jaw that jutted out in the manner of the Muggle police tough guys she'd seen in her father's old rented films. Her mirror didn't do more than issue a feeble protest; in the last few weeks it had grown used to her leaving the flat in various unflattering guises. It had been pathetically grateful when she switched back to her normal look for the journey to the office.

Tonks had always found that the real trouble with travelling the Floo network was the spinning motion. Although it was a relatively short journey to Worthing, any trip longer than a short hop across town left you feeling disoriented. She was facing backwards when she stepped out of the flames at the Worthing station. As she turned to face the door she felt her foot catch on something; she tried to stop herself falling, but couldn't, and pitched forward into the room.

Of course, it was just her bad luck that there was, once again. a wizard standing nearby for her to collide with.

Bloody Hell! she raged (albeit internally). Why do they ALWAYS put raised edges on these things? It's not like they're needed to stop burning logs falling out or anything! She picked herself up, brushed off the dust from her robes and turned to apologise to the wizard, who was doing much the same thing.

Her jaw dropped. Oh great. I just love coincidences.

The wizard, who was slightly older than her, looked at her in puzzlement for a moment; then his eyes widened in sudden recognition. An older woman who had been standing behind him, out of range of Tonks' clumsiness, looked at them curiously. A slight whoosh from the fireplace announced the arrival of Cassius, who carefully stepped over the edge of the grate to join them.

The woman was clearly trying very hard to keep a straight face. She was in her forties, perhaps, but still had dark hair and a trim figure, and was smartly dressed in Muggle clothing. "Aren't you going to introduce us, Montgomery?" she said, unable to keep slight amusement from her voice. "I know girls always throw themselves at you, but I didn't realise they did it literally."

Both Tonks and the wizard reddened slightly. "Mother, this is a Miss ... Tonks, as I recall," he said, with a trace of irritation. "Do you remember me telling you once when I was at school about this wretched first-year shape-shifter who liked to mess with the heads of the prefects?" Tonks' blush deepened. "This is her, if I'm not very much mistaken."

Tonks gritted her teeth. "Yes, it's her ... er, I mean, yes it's me," she said. "It was a long time ago, though. Bygones?"

"I suppose so," said the wizard grumpily. "I'm surprised you even kept a face I could recognise. Did I get your name right?"

"Yes," said Tonks. "Nym -- er, yes, Tonks was right. I'm surprised you remembered me."

"Remembered you?" said the man. "After six months of you appearing and disappearing like a demented leprechaun? I thought I was losing my mind. I nearly asked Madam Pomfrey to check my head out." Tonks winced.

"Oops. Sorry. No, I mean it," she said hastily at the look of disbelief on his face. "I was only a kid ... er, Montgomery. And I was probably ... oh, I don't know, overcompensating for being scared out of my wits half the time about whether I'd ever see my parents again?" She realised as soon as she said this that it had touched a nerve, as the faces of the wizard and his mother tightened perceptibly. Oh great. Just great. Now what? "Erm, did I put my foot in it again?"

"Yes, Miss Tonks, you did, I'm afraid to say," said the woman evenly. Now that she wasn't distracted by the need to pick herself up off the floor, Tonks noticed that her voice had a very slight accent of some kind, although it was sufficiently overlaid by conventional English as to be almost undetectable. "Your glorious career as a Hogwarts joker must have been right about the time my husband ... was killed. I don't suppose you stopped to wonder if my son had just lost his father, though, did you?"

Tonks winced again. "No, I didn't," she said, pleased to hear that her voice reflected her genuine regret. "Look, please, I'm so sorry. I didn't want to bring up bad memories for you."

"Can't be helped," said the wizard gruffly. "As you say, it's a long time ago now." He suddenly seemed to realise that Cassius was present. "I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself to your grandfather here. I'm Montgomery Hallendale, this is my mother Angelica."

Cassius came out of one of his reveries, and smiled politely. "Grandfather? Not me. Merely her colleague. I'm Cassius Scrimgeour, by the way. Very pleased to meet you both."

"That's OK," said Angelica Hallendale, smiling in return. "I hope she doesn't cause you too much trouble."

"Not at all. She's a reformed character, obviously." He chuckled; Tonks gritted her teeth and fixed a smile in place. "I hope we didn't delay your journey. It's always a little cramped in these single-grate stations."

The woman laughed. "Oh, it wouldn't have made any difference. I asked Montgomery to book a Portkey for us to go up to London on. Normally I just drive into Brighton to shop in Wizard's Row, but they don't stock much in the way of cosmetic products. And I know even Muggles can use the Floo network with the right kind of powder, but I've never much liked the idea of stepping into a fire."

"Oh, come on, it's not that bad," said Tonks, puzzled. "I know it's a bit scary when you do it the first time, but you soon get used to it. Surely your parents must have shown you how to use it when you were young?"

A twinkle appeared in Angelica's eyes. "No, young lady. To do that, they'd have needed to know how to use it themselves. And as Muggles, that would have been unlikely, wouldn't it?" She smiled at them. "I'm sure they would have been quite as alarmed by the idea as I was when Hank -- my husband -- first told me about it."

"Your husband told you?" asked Tonks in confusion. "You mean they didn't teach you at school either?"

"I didn't go to school, Miss Tonks," she said, laughing. "I was privately taught. And I dare say the idea would have given my teachers a heart attack as well. I never realised there was a whole magical world out there until I met Hank. And he was magical in more ways than one." She raised her eyebrows at the younger woman a couple of times.

Her son looked at her with a trace of exasperation, and his mother smiled at him.

"You mean you're a Muggle?" said Cassius with an expression of dawning comprehension on his face. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise. You seemed so ... comfortable with the idea of magic."

She shrugged. "It's been over thirty years, Mr Scrimgeour. I've had plenty of time to pick up the jargon. And I have two wizard sons to keep me up to date with what's going on, even if Montgomery here is making his fortune in pounds and dollars, not Galleons." She glanced affectionately at her son, who again looked slightly embarrassed at the parental praise.

"Thank you, Mother," he said firmly, checking his watch. "It's very nearly time for the Portkey to activate, so perhaps we should get ready?" He glanced around, picked up an old newspaper from a table, and handed one end to his mother, who winked at Tonks and Cassius.

"Well, it was nice talking to you, Miss Tonks, and you, Mr Scrimgeour," she said. "Oh, we never did ask. Now you've, er, reformed, what is it you do?"

Tonks couldn't resist. Her face took on a mischievous look. "Oh, it's quite a responsible job really." She took the badge from her pocket and held it up where they could see it. "We're Aurors."

She enjoyed the shocked expressions that appeared on the faces of both Hallendales a moment before the Portkey activated and they winked out of sight.

*****

The Easton home turned out to be in a pleasant residential street, where the houses were large, detached, and with an ample amount of garden; clearly a place where the reasonably well-to-do lived. There was no-one in the street when they arrived. Cassius, who was surprisingly subdued, stood well back around the corner as Tonks hid between a couple of parked cars, and surreptitiously tapped K's wizard locator compass with her wand to see if there might be any other unsuspected wizards living in the street. If there were, they were obviously out; the needle swung round and pointed straight to the Easton residence.

With the badges fixed to their robes, they strolled up to the front door, and Tonks changed into her tough face. She hammered on the old-fashioned door knocker as loudly as she could.

"All right, all right!" came a querulous voice from within. "No need to break the door down!" Mrs Easton opened the door with an annoyed look on her face, which immediately -- and tellingly -- fell as she took in who her visitors were.

Tonks seized the tactical advantage this gave her. "Want a little word about your shopping habits, Mrs Easton," she said brusquely, pushing past. "Let's go inside. Where's your lounge?" She strode down the hall; Beatrice Easton stumbled after her, clearly in shock. Cassius, following, quietly closed the door behind them and put a locking charm on it.

They entered a large lounge, which had been tastefully furnished in a style that only a wizard would have recognised as not being entirely Muggle. Tonks nodded to Mrs Easton and pointed at one of the chairs. "Sit down," she said curtly, which she did, with a look that was so frightened Tonks found it irresistibly comical. She managed to turn her grin into a scowl in time to keep in her role.

"Wh ... what do you want?" said Easton defensively, finding her voice. "Why are you here? I ... I haven't done anything wrong." Even she seemed to realise it was a bit late to be saying that, given the way she'd reacted so far. She swallowed

"Ought to sue your face for slander then," said Tonks gruffly. She was finding it hard to keep a straight face herself. Time to bring in Cassius. "Partner? Let's tell her what we saw yesterday, shall we?"

They briefly described their way they'd placed a tracer charm for Mrs Easton and trailed her the day before; Tonks rudely, Cassius in his usual polite manner -- easy for you, mate, you don't even have to act -- although they implied they'd seen and heard a lot more than they actually had. Beatrice Easton's lip started to tremble as she listened, and when Cassius described how he'd followed her to the Floo station she burst into tears.

Tonks winced. Fortunately Mrs Easton was in no fit state to pay attention to her. Fun as it was to act 'hard', she didn't especially like bullying someone who, after all, was probably not a career criminal. She glanced at Cassius, who shook his head warningly, with the clear implication: I don't like it either, but it's the job you signed up for. You have to deal with it. She turned back to the weeping woman.

"Come on now Mrs Easton. If you can give us a good explanation of what you were doing and what you were intending to give to your husband, we won't necessarily have to take this any further." This statement was blatantly untrue, of course, but was in line with the standard interrogation techniques listed in the Auror manuals. Offer them a hint that they can talk their way out of it. Let them concoct some explanation -- give them enough rope to hang themselves. Then pick apart the inconsistencies in their story until you have them tied in knots. Tonks realised it was another thing she was going to have to get used to. She wouldn't have thought twice if it had been a serious villain in front of her.

"I ... I just wanted some cheap p .. potion ingredients," stammered Easton. "This ... man said he could get them at cost price. You know, er ... on import. Special offer."

"Special offer," said Tonks in a disbelieving voice. "Right."

"Well, you know ... hard to get sometimes."

"Hard to get," repeated Tonks, in the same tone. "Where from?"

"I ... I'm sorry?"

"Which ingredients? Where couldn't you find them?"

"Oh, er ... they were ..."

Cassius interrupted. "Mrs Easton," he said gently. "I don't think you're convincing my young colleague here. Or me, if it comes to that. Just tell us what you were buying."

Beatrice Easton broke down in tears again. "I was buying a Love Potion," she said in a very small voice.

Tonks and Cassius looked at each other with a mixture of astonishment and amusement. "What?!" said Tonks.

"A love potion, " said Easton with a catch in her voice. "You know how it is."

"Not really," said Tonks. "What did --"

Cassius hastily interrupted, with another warning glance at his partner: Time to try a touch of the velvet glove now. "Come now, Mrs Easton, why don't you just tell us all about it," he said to her kindly. "Get it off your chest. You'll feel better for it." Tonks, with some experience of his usual way of speaking, noticed a very slight insincerity in his tone, but she was sure their suspect wouldn't. It seemed to work, anyway.

"It's my hus -- husband, Bobby," she sobbed. She pointed at a framed wizarding photograph of a good-looking man on a sideboard; he winked suggestively at Tonks, which she found surprising her given her current appearance. "He works away from home most of the time, and I'm sure he ... strays." She blew her nose loudly. "He gets owls, and pretends they're nothing important, but I can tell from the handwriting they're from women. I ... I don't want to lose him. I felt as long as I was s..s..sure he loved me, I wouldn't really mind if he was faithful or not." The tears started to flow freely again, to the discomfort of both Aurors.

"I see," said Cassius soothingly. "And so you went to this man to buy a Love Potion."

"Yes," she said, sniffing. "Well, I tried buying the ingredients first, but I was never very good at making potions. So I started buying bottles of it ready-made. I didn't think it was really illegal."

"We often find people think that," chipped in Tonks, coldly. Probably because it isn't, technically speaking, she added to herself. The offence was using the stuff over an extended period as a form of control. Her comment made Mrs Easton look nervous again, however. That pretty much what you were planning then, Beatrice?

Cassius looked at the woman cautiously, evidently weighing up what his approach should be. Tonks realised, now she had a moment or two to think about it, that so far they only had something small-time. Unless the seller had had other items to offer, of course.

"We don't like people selling this sort of thing, Mrs Easton," said Cassius after a moment or two.

"I -- I -- I know."

"We find that people who sell items of this kind often supply much worse items also." It seemed he had the same idea.

"Y -- yes, I suppose they do."

"You could get in a lot of trouble, you know." His voice became sterner.

"Oh, no, please don't arrest me!" she cried, panic-stricken. "Please, don't let my husband know! Please ... I don't want to lose him over this. Please."

Tonks wasn't sure whether that would be a good or a bad thing, but she was quite sure that she didn't want to make it any of her business. "You'd better be co-operative, then," she snapped. She didn't like bullying people this way. Or more to the point, she didn't like the thought she might start to like it. Next time we do this, Cassius old mate, you can be the Mr Nasty. I don't care if you're any good at it or not.

Cassius, of course, was still playing Mr Nice. "Who is the man you met in the pub?" he said carefully. Again, Tonks could detect slight tension in his voice as he asked the crucial question.

"I don't know his name," she said with a gulp. "I met him in a bookshop. It's a bit out of the way -- Islington -- and he saw me looking at potions books and guessed what I wanted them for." Tonks raised her eyebrows. How come everyone except the Ministry seems to know about this **** bookshop? "He offered to sell me what I needed, but please, I didn't use the love potions as much as he said I did. And I'd never have used anything stronger if they didn't work, not even if he really had something like he hinted he had. I'd never do that to Bobby. It sounded horrible."

Tonks looked at Cassius speechlessly. It seemed they'd found a real-life role model for their Mrs Anonymous character. Great! Sometimes, I just love coincidences.

"I'm ... I'm really sorry," said Mrs Easton, who apparently hadn't noticed the exchange of looks. "I promise, I won't meet with him again. I won't go there next time." Both Aurors heads jerked round at this.

"You arranged to meet him again?" said Tonks sharply. "When?"

"N ... next week," she said, frightened. "That was the arrangement. But I promise, I won't go."

"No, you won't," said Tonks grimly. "I will."


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10. Getting Into Fights

Wednesday August 12th 1994

Tonks was cock-a-hoop for the next few days at the possibility of a real break in the case. Cassius was quietly pleased, explaining to Tonks -- or anyone else who would listen -- that it was always worth investigating minor leads like this on the off chance that they would turn out to be a pointer to something important. Even Claymore sent them a memo to say that he had noted their progress. It was approving rather than effusive, merely agreeing that this evidence did now seem to indicate that a dangerous situation might be developing, but according to Cassius that was much further than he'd ever gone before when commenting on the case.

Beatrice Easton informed them that she'd agreed to meet with her contact again exactly a week after their previous meeting, which meant that they immediately started making plans for lunchtime on the following Thursday. Tonks spent much of her weekend and the following Monday and Tuesday at the Easton house, learning the details of their past dealings (such as they were -- Mrs Easton had apparently been too nervous of her contact and her surroundings to observe either of them closely), practising changing her features to do a perfect imitation of her hostess (who was seriously disconcerted as she watched Tonks experiment), and making sure she could get the voice and mannerisms exactly right (she thought privately that as long as she stammered with alarm every other sentence, no-one would possibly know the difference).

Fortunately, Bobby Easton seemed to be away much of the time, spending only one night in his marital home -- or more to the point under the circumstances, in his marital bed -- during the entire time Tonks was calling. She'd returned to her usual appearance once there was no need to play Bad Auror (apart from issuing regular Awful Warnings about what would happen if Mrs Easton told anybody what they were planning, to keep her in a suitable state of anxiety). The husband looked at his wife's visitor with considerable interest, and she made her excuses and left quickly before any embarrassing questions could be asked.

Naturally, by the time that she arrived at work on the following Wednesday, she'd completely forgotten about the World Cup security meeting, until Rhiannon Davies called to her as she passed by on the way out.

"See you downstairs, Tonks!"

"Huh?" She turned her head to see Rhiannon leave, almost called her back, then remembered what date it was and glanced at her desk calendar. "Oh hell." Slightly flustered, she scribbled a note to Cassius to let him know where she'd gone, and hurriedly made her way down to Level Seven.

The meeting room turned out to be right at the end of the main corridor, and as she threw open the door a loud ouch! from behind it indicated that just possibly there had been no need for her to be in such a hurry.

The door was pulled fully open by the wizard with the spotless robes and manicured moustache that she'd met twice before under similar unfortunate circumstances. He rubbed his elbow gingerly, and looked at Tonks with pursed lips. "You! This is a private meeting, Miss ..."

"Tonks. Yes, I know, I got the memo, I'm on the list for the World Cup security. I'm really sorry if I'm late, Mr ..."

"Crouch. Bartemius Crouch," he said, with a look of exasperation. Tonks gulped. How was I supposed to know what you looked like? she thought. I hadn't heard of you for ten years until I got the memo! A number of onlookers were watching the conversation, making generally unsuccessful attempts at keeping straight faces.

"I'm sorry, Mr Crouch, ..." she began, but he impatiently waved aside this stumbling attempt at damage limitation.

"Just take a seat, please, we've wasted enough time on this already."

Tonks went over to find Rhiannon Davies, who was waving at her from across the room. Her morale wasn't improved when she distinctly overheard Crouch say to his assistant, sotto voce, "Weatherby, are you sure she's on the list?"

Rhiannon moved her notes from the seat next to her, and Tonks flopped down into it gratefully. Her friend was wearing a wide grin. "You've met Barty Crouch before then?" she said in a too-innocent tone of voice.

"Erm ... I may have bumped into him from time to time," replied Tonks evasively. "What's the programme for today?"

She handed her a sheet of parchment. "Here. Ludo, Crouch, and the UEQA rep are going to talk for a bit, then they're going to form us up into squads and tell us what duties we're assigned to."

"Right. Leaving it a bit late, aren't they?"

Rhiannon shrugged. "Well, they settled the squad leaders quite a while ago. I've been called in for several training sessions already. I'm supposed to keep the rest of my team in line, act as the link for orders, and so on. Dawlish has been putting us all through our paces."

Tonks winced. "Dawlish? Oh, wonderful."

"Do you know him then?" asked Rhiannon with slight surprise. "He tends to do special jobs like the protection squad. I suppose he can commandeer other Aurors, but I didn't realise you'd been called on."

The room was starting to settle down as Tonks replied. "I haven't," she whispered. "But that Dawlish bloke ... he was with combat training when I was doing my three years. He's a bit tough on you, isn't he?" Rhiannon Davies raised her eyebrows in inquiry, but by now the room had gone quiet. "I'll tell you later," she muttered in a dispirited fashion.

Her morale was considerably improved, though, when Ludo Bagman himself bounded into the room, with a cheerful look on his face and a breezy apology for being late. He waved to, or winked at, several people in the audience; including (Tonks was highly amused to note) Rhiannon, who rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath about athletes who let themselves get out of condition.

Looking at him as he was now, Tonks had to admit to herself that she was slightly disappointed. His appearance and physique had definitely changed for the worse from the posters she'd had on her wall as a kid, but the roguish grin and boyish exuberance were still there. She couldn't suppress a childlike grin of her own.

Bagman approached a small lectern placed at the front. "Good morning everybody!" he said brightly. "I'd like to say how very pleased I really am that all of you are willing to help us out with the security at the World Cup. I just know it's going to be a wonderful occasion!" A few people cheered, and Bagman chuckled at them and rubbed his hands.

"Now then, just a few words about the line-up for this morning. First my colleague Barty here" -- he slapped him on the back, which made Crouch purse his lips again -- "would like to talk about how you deal with all the nationalities we'll have at the match. You wouldn't believe some of the problems we're had arranging transport for them all! After that, Albert" -- he indicated a dour-faced man who, from his appearance, might once have been a referee -- "wants a word about the importance of not getting in the way while the actual match is on. Very vital that, we Beaters don't really care where we send the Bludgers as long as it's not at our own team, you wouldn't want to be hit by mistake!" That actually got a laugh from many of the audience. "Finally, this afternoon we'll hand you over to Mr Dawlish here to discuss the squads and ground rules." He pointed at Dawlish, a tough-looking man with close-cropped, wiry hair that was turning grey, who nodded at them confidently. "Good luck, and I hope you'll have as wonderful a time as we're having! Over to you, Barty!"

Crouch stepped up to the lectern, with a disapproving look that suggested he didn't consider that the security staff should be thinking in terms of having a wonderful time. He began to talk in clipped tones about the critical importance of the tournament for the reputation of wizarding Britain.

Tonks could see his point about it being vital to make a good impression on their foreign visitors, many of whom knew of the horrors of the 1970-81 war and still regarded Britain as a potentially dangerous place, but found her attention wandering as his long and tedious address wore on. She glanced around; many of the other people in the room, including Ludo Bagman, were fidgeting in their seats or staring into space with glazed expressions. The only person who seemed to be drinking in every word with rapt attention was Crouch's assistant.

Although she's been resolved to listen carefully to everything that was said, the sheer dullness of the speech defeated her, and she found her mind leaping ahead to consider what Dawlish might be going to say to them. Her first encounter with him still made her squirm with embarrassment.

*****

October 1991

Auror combat training had turned out to be held in a very large room off the main second level corridor in the Ministry, roughly the size of a Quidditch pitch. The floor looked like stone but felt soft underfoot, having presumably been treated with some kind of cushioning charm for safety reasons. It seemed bare and empty when the trainees filed in -- there were a number of pieces of equipment stacked against the walls, and a row of seats along one side, but it was otherwise just a wide open space.

Dawlish was waiting for them in front of the seats, standing next to a large blackboard that was hovering in mid-air. He nodded at each of the trainees as they passed by, but didn't speak, which caused them to share uneasy glances. When they had settled down, he pointed his wand at the door and muttered a locking charm.

"Good morning," he said shortly. "Warren Dawlish. I'll be tutoring you. Won't tell you how important combat skills are to an Auror -- waste of time, you must know already. We'll start with some basics. Got those right, you're well on the way." He tapped the board with his wand and a short list appeared on it:

Stupefy
Impedimenta
Expelliarmus
Protego
Apparition

"For the moment, just to start with, we'll be making sure you can use these techniques really proficiently. Go over them till you don't need to think about them. Cast the spells quickly -- shouldn't need to say them at all, if you're good."

The class exchanged looks. "Just like that?" muttered one of them in a sceptical voice. "Not as easy as it sounds doing the spell without the incantation."

In reply, Dawlish nonchalantly pointed his wand at the empty chair next to the speaker. A jet of red light shot out of the end and smashed a hole in the seat, making the hapless trainee yelp and jump out of the way.

"Just like that," he said with a slight twitch of the mouth that might have been a suppressed smile. "Reparo." The pieces of the seat flew back together. "Don't expect you to be able to do that quite as easily yet, though. Takes practice, although since you've got this far you should have some idea how it's done." He held up a hand to forestall renewed mutterings from the trainees. "I know, not all of you had good teachers at school. But this mostly comes from you. You have to learn to focus the right way. You get these few techniques down pat, you'll be well set in any fight."

"But, sir ..." said Tonks hesitantly. "Surely they aren't enough by themselves? What if you get into a fight with someone who knows really powerful spells or Dark Magic? Don't we need to know all the counters?" Dawlish looked at her; the almost-smile became more pronounced.

"It helps, yes. When there is a counter. Eventually, we'll go into that in more detail. But these are the basics. Magical attack. Physical attack. Disarming. Spell blocking. Evasion. You can Apparate within this room, by the way, if you were wondering, but not outside of it. Anyway, it gives you fallback techniques. Very important never to get caught hesitating in a fight, wondering what spell to cast next. Let's demonstrate." He waved a hand to indicate that Tonks should join him.

"Me, sir?" She stood up with an uneasy feeling. Although she'd always done well at the school Duelling Club, and had acquired some useful practical experience in sticky situations on her travels; trying to fight a senior instructor was taking things to a whole new level.

"Yes, you. Generally pick the one who doesn't think these spells are enough to do any good. There's always one. So let's duel. I'll confine myself to the techniques on the board. All right?"

Not really, no, but I don't suppose I can get out of it now, can I? "OK, sir. Er ... what can I use?"

"Anything you like, long as it's legal and non-lethal. Maybe even turn a blind eye to the first requirement. Do your worst. Wand ready then? Right." Dawlish nodded to one of the other trainees. "Give us a count of three." They bowed briefly to each other and held their wands out in the standard duelling position. Tonks was sure she could see the end of hers trembling slightly.

"One ... two ... three."

"Petrificus Totalus!" Tonks cried, aiming her wand at Dawlish and flinching slightly to duck anything coming her way. He, however, was already muttering "Protego" before she got to the end of the first word, and the spell bounced right back at her.

Just about the longest incantation you could have chosen. Brilliant idea! Why not just send him an owl to tell him what you were going to cast? His counter-spell was a Stunner, which she ducked, stumbling slightly. Off-balance, she thought briefly about Apparating, but didn't have time to gather her concentration as Dawlish shot a Disarming Charm at her, which she only just managed to fend off with a Shield Charm of her own.

****! Right, Tonks, diversionary tactics. She waved her wand to create a loud explosion and a cloud of smoke in between them, which gave her time to focus and Apparate across the room, then cast a rapid Stunning Spell at the place where Dawlish was standing ... or at any rate, should have been standing. She realised that he too had Apparated away, and was now on the other side of the room. He reacted more quickly and sent an Impediment Jinx her way; this time, although her hasty Shield Charm blocked the worst of it, there was still enough force remaining to knock her over.

Panicking slightly, she dredged up an obscure spell from the back of her mind and cried "Canis defensor!" There was a loud bang, and a large and very vicious looking dog appeared out of thin air. It snarled, bared its teeth and leapt at the approaching Dawlish.

"Impedimenta!" His casually-spoken spell sent the dog flying across the room, where it hit the ground with considerable force and lay whimpering with its tail between its legs. It had however given Tonks time to get back on her feet again.

She only just managed to duck the next Stunning Spell, and in desperation she fired back the nastiest spell she could think of on the spur of the moment, a Furnace Hex. You don't mind illegal, sir? Do my worst? Right you are, then. It didn't hit him -- if it had, it would have given him some very painful burns -- but it forced him to Apparate out of its path again, which gave Tonks time to start worrying.

Dawlish had reappeared not too far away, and now began to cast a stream of Stunners, Impediment Jinxes and Disarming Charms at her (she realised that he wasn't bothering to voice the incantations now). It barely gave her time to do anything but duck, dodge, and throw up Shield Charm after Shield Charm to fend them off. She was extremely glad that the arena was mostly empty space -- if there had been any objects in the way, she would surely have tripped over at least one of them by now. Her few attempts at countering with a Stunner were brushed off easily. She was beginning to see his point; it was easier to cast something simple that didn't require much thought.

As she stumbled backwards under the force of one of the spells, she caught his eyes, and watched them flick past her shoulder momentarily to a point just behind her, and as he suddenly disappeared from view with a crack Tonks gambled. She spun 180 degrees, crying "Stupefy!" as she did so, hoping to be able to adjust her aim in the process of turning.

The streak of red light from her wand flew into empty space. He wasn't there.

"Expelliarmus!" Her wand flew from her hand and she realised with horror that he'd simply Apparated backwards a few feet, and that the eye movement had been a feint. She didn't have time to duck, Apparate, or even curse herself for falling for a sucker ploy before an Impediment Jinx hit her and sent her crashing to the ground. She struggled against what felt like invisible ropes binding her as Dawlish walked slowly over and pointed his wand at her throat.

"Good fight, Miss Tonks," he said. "Better than average, actually. You'll do fine when we've trained you up a bit, I think. But my win. And my point made, I think."

*****

Wednesday August 12th 1994

A rustling sound among the assembled volunteers brought Tonks' attention back to the hall. Crouch's lecture had finally come to an end; Tonks was surprised to find, when she looked at her watch guiltily, that he'd actually been talking for nearly three-quarters of an hour. She would have asked Rhiannon Davies what he'd said, but she seemed to be coming out of a coma as well.

The remainder of the morning session was equally uninspiring. A much needed coffee break was followed by a hectoring lecture from the man named Benedict, warning the assembled company that they must not only stay well clear of the action themselves, but also prevent any interference with the play from the crowd or the Bulgarian or Irish coaching staffs.

The speech was livened up slightly by a number of tales of dirty tricks from Quidditch matches of the past. Tonks was astonished to learn that the manager of the legendary Hungarian team of the 1770s, an equally legendary former Seeker, had later confessed that he had regularly spotted the Snitch from the sidelines early in the game and cast an Invisibility Spell on it, to prevent it being caught until his superb Chasers had run up an unassailable lead -- a tactic that had led directly to the modern, highly charm-resistant version. Unfortunately, this information was delivered in such a flat monotone it was almost as boring as listening to Crouch.

When they reconvened after lunch, they discovered that Benedict, Crouch, and (Tonks was sorry to see) Ludo Bagman had taken their leave. Dawlish, and a small group of wizards and witches who seemed to be under his direct command, were the only ones left at the front of the hall.

Dawlish tapped on the lectern to call the meeting to order. He looked and spoke exactly as Tonks remembered him. "Right, everyone," he said. "You've heard this morning what we're all supposed to be doing this for. Now for the practical bit. In general, all you do is watch out for trouble and stop it if you find any. Simple enough, right?" He smiled ironically.

"We've arranged for each squad to have someone experienced in charge; an Auror, a senior official, a veteran member of the Law Enforcement Patrol, whoever. There's also a group of supervisors. Everybody gets identification badges saying who they are. If at any point you don't know what to do, ask the most senior person you can find."

He talked for a while about chains of command, legal uses of force, and emergency procedures. It wasn't so bad. Tonks was used to his staccato style of talking after three years training; and even if she hadn't been, it marked a definite improvement on the morning lectures. At least it was mercifully clear, and he certainly didn't waste words.

"Right," he said after a while, with a gesture to his companions. "Now we'll get you into your squads. I'll read out the list. When you hear your name, come up to the front and one of my team here will tell you what to do. We've assigned you to duties according to your experience."

Tonks exchanged a nervous look with Rhiannon Davies. She really hoped that she'd managed to get them onto the same squad. She didn't have too long to wait, as the list seemed to be arranged in alphabetical order of squad leader.

"... Squad 14. Team Leader: Rhiannon Davies, Auror. Team members: William Poppleford, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Chesney Thompson, research assistant to the Committee on Experimental Charms. Nymphadora Tonks, Auror."

Tonks breathed a silent sigh of relief and accompanied her new Team Leader to the front of the hall, where they introduced themselves to the two wizards who would be joining them. Poppleford turned out to be a burly middle-aged wizard with thinning hair and a ruddy complexion, who nodded politely. Thompson was a much thinner man in his twenties, with an apparently irrepressible grin, who winked at them. He might almost have been Bagman's younger brother ... or at any rate, a not too distant relative.

Dawlish's man coughed to draw their attention. "Very well, Miss Davies, your team have been assigned to watch over the campsite on the weekend before the match, so none of you will have to miss more than a day of your normal work before the Final starts." He paused with a resigned look as Thompson booed jokingly. "Once the match is in progress, you are contracted to remain on duty in the stadium as long as the match lasts. We've drawn up rotas to cater for an extended match -- it went on for five days last time -- so you'll be doing shifts of six hours on duty, six hours off. You're on duty for the first shift." He handed them each a sheaf of parchment. "You need to read and understand these ground rules. Your team leader will be responsible for training you in anything else you need to know. Any questions?"

"Yes," said Thompson. "Are we supposed to meet beforehand to practice, then?"

"That's up to your team leader. But it's highly recommended, as we've already told her. Anything else?"

"What do we do if these Aurors have to leave?" asked the stocky wizard. "Fend for ourselves?"

"Check in with the nearest supervisor or team leader. If a riot breaks out or something -- and I really hope it won't -- they'll be responsible for tactical matters. We -- " (he pointed to an official badge on his robes) are responsible for overall organisation. Supervisors and team leaders take direction from us. OK?"

They looked at each other and shrugged. "I guess so," said Poppleford.

"Right. Over to you then, Miss Davies." He nodded at Rhiannon and went back to collect another squad.

Rhiannon Davies looked at her squad with a slightly nervous expression. "Very well, team, I don't think there's too much to discuss now," she said. "We haven't been given any very complex duties, look you -- just try to make sure people don't get out of order. Oh, and it's a Muggle campsite, so it's important to warn anyone you see who isn't behaving the Muggle way. At the match -- well, keep an eye out for trouble, but I don't suppose anyone's going to say anything if you watch the play too. OK?"

"Do we meet up?" asked Thompson with a glance at the others.

"Ah. Yes. Probably a good idea. Do you fellows work regular hours?"

The two wizards exchanged glances. "Most of the time," said Poppleford.

"Pretty much," agreed Thompson.

"Oh, right. Let's say this Saturday afternoon at two o'clock, then? Sort out the details of what we'll be doing, then maybe we can all go for a drink, get to know each other, call it a team-building exercise?" They nodded; Rhiannon looked heartened. "Great. I'll send a memo round to confirm the details. OK, I guess I'll see you later!"

All over the hall, people were beginning to wander off. Thompson winked at them once more. "I don't suppose anyone will mind if I slip off home now?" he said. "Look forward to meeting you all again." As he and Poppleford joined the stream of volunteers leaving the hall, Rhiannon Davies looked at Tonks with relief.

"Glad that's over. I really should have prepared a proper pep talk for them, I suppose, but ... oh you know how it is, I was busy. Let's go."

As they strolled over to the door, she asked, "By the way, what did you do in Dawlish's class?"

Tonks gave her a brief explanation, making Davies giggle. "You idiot," she said. "I had enough sense not to stick my neck out. It wasn't Dawlish then, old Bruno Featherstone was doing them before he got promoted."

"He did a few of ours," said Tonks with a shudder. "The more ... extreme ones. How did yours go?"

"Oh, Featherstone flattened some poor sod called Davey Wickham who thought he was really good at duelling. Needless to say, he wasn't."

"I wonder if anyone ever won one of those duels?" mused Tonks as they reached the door.

"Only once." Both women's heads jerked round at this, to see Dawlish looking at them with amusement. "Miss Tonks, isn't it? Sort of a tradition in the Department to demonstrate basic combat skills against some hapless recruit. We tell the trainees they can use anything they like in the fight, they almost always make the mistake of using a lot of complex spells. Best to be sparing with those, unless you're really powerful or experienced. Much better to do the basics well. You missed a simple trick as well, as I recall."

Tonks cast her mind back to the subsequent part of the lesson where the class had examined the tactics used. "I did? You mean Remansio?"

"Yes. Basic Anti-Disapparation Jinx; make one of those stick, you've got a big advantage. The trainee who won managed to bring that off. Didn't tell you then, but you also had the right idea trying to shock me with a Dark spell. You just didn't take it far enough."

"Not far enough?"

"The one who won started to shout 'Avada ...' at the tutor. He was so shocked, he reacted according to his training, made a desperate dive out of the way without thinking. Bluff of course, but it worked. Left him wide open for a Stunner. Good thinking for a trainee, even the instructor said so afterwards."

Tonks raised her eyebrows. So did Rhiannon Davies. "Who was the one who won? Do we know him?"

He gave them a slightly twisted smile as he walked out the door. "Yes," he said. "Fellow by the name of Dawlish."


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11. Make Me An Offer

Thursday August 13th 1994

Diagon Alley the following lunchtime was its usual packed self. Tonks strolled casually past all the places she knew well -- Gringotts Wizarding Bank, Flourish and Blotts, Florian Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour -- as did a cosmopolitan crowd that today contained hundreds of foreign wizards, clearly here for the World Cup and taking in the sights beforehand.

In her role as Beatrice Easton, Tonks felt as much of a stranger among the familiar landmarks as any of them.

She edged her way through the jostling crowds towards the corner leading down to Knockturn Alley to find the Transfigured Toad, which was a place of which she'd seen more in a short space of time than she'd ever really wanted. She could feel her heart beating rapidly, and was annoyed to notice that she felt far more nervous than on the previous occasions she'd visited the place. Probably because I'm not just making it up as I go along this time, she decided. I'm supposed to be a real person, not just a character of my own invention.

She hesitated for a moment outside the familiar door; as she glanced up at the sign; the wizard and his transfiguree seemed (doubtless only to her currently overactive imagination) to be gazing at her with curled lips. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Cassius, waiting around to follow the man she was meeting when they came out of the pub (and handily placed if she needed any backup, should it come to that). She shook herself briefly, gathered her wits and stepped though the doors.

The landlord nodded at her in recognition as she approached the bar, barely troubling to take a slightly derisive expression off his face. "Ah, good afternoon, madam," he said. "Pumpkin and tomato juices with tonic and a dash of lime, wasn't it?"

"Yes, please," said Tonks. Good. He recognises me -- or rather, he recognises her. First obstacle successfully negotiated. She watched carefully as he mixed the drink -- the Toad wasn't the kind of place where you wanted to consume anything that you hadn't seen being made. She handed over some Sickles and Knuts and took it over to a vacant table, where she surreptitiously prodded it with the poison tester from her knife, concealed in her hand. Fortunately, it was perfectly drinkable -- or at any rate, not poisoned.

She sipped at it gingerly; she'd actually had to practice drinking this revolting concoction favoured by Beatrice Easton without grimacing. At least it wasn't alcoholic, and therefore wouldn't prevent her from keeping a clear head. It wasn't too bad once you got used to it, apart from the taste.

She glanced around with a nervous expression; partly because that was what Mrs Easton would have done, and partly because, well, she was nervous. The pub was not especially crowded today, but the patrons that were there looked as dubious as ever. She fought back an urge to look back at them challengingly when they stared at her -- that definitely wasn't what her alter ego would have done. Judging from her behaviour over the last few days, it was more likely she'd only just have managed to avoid bursting into tears.

The doors opened and a wizard stood framed in the doorway; Tonks couldn't make out his face, especially as he had the light behind him, but her heart-rate increased again -- that had to be her contact. She put on a relieved expression as he walked over to her table.

"Here to meet me, I presume?" His tone of voice still had the slight mockery that she remembered from listening through the partition the previous week; it put her back up, but she smiled tremulously and nodded. The wizard jerked his head towards one of the alcoves and strode off, Tonks following. She noticed that he didn't bother casting a privacy charm as they settled into the seats. Evidently her guess about the landlord had been correct.

Tonks studied his face as closely as she could, given that she was supposed to have met him on several previous occasions. Most of it was hidden behind a thin scarf that made him look like some kind of bandit (which on reflection, he probably was). All that was really visible was his eyes, greyish-blue and not at all distinctive, and an unshaven lower chin and neck. Apparently he regularly concealed his features like this, even when browsing for books among the more dubious sections of Lore of Yore; Mrs Easton hadn't seen any more of them than Tonks could. She suspected, now that she had a chance to see him close up, that the scarf must be charmed not to slip from his face.

The wizard chuckled at her nastily. "Did it work then?" he asked.

"Well ... sort of," said Tonks tentatively. "I mean ... he was very ... very kind to me last time he came home. I think ... maybe it helped. I don't know." Tonks mentally patted herself on the back for the way she said this. Good! Sounds just like the way she stumbles over her words when she's nervous.

Her companion snorted. "You'll be wanting more then, I suppose?" He reached into a pocket in his robes and pulled out a bottle of pink liquid. "There's about ten doses there. Twenty Galleons to you, missus. Fair enough?"

Tonks looked at the bottle hesitantly. She actually had been given a reasonable budget this time (despite the reluctance of the Department's Financial Wizard), but buying and selling bottles of Love Potion wasn't illegal, despite anything she'd said to Beatrice Easton. She wanted more concrete results if she could.. "Are ... are you sure it'll work? He travels a lot, I don't know ... will it last?"

The wizard gazed at her thoughtfully; Tonks dropped her eyes quickly to avoid giving anything away. Fortunately, that was in character. "How often can you give it to him?"

"Oh ... only when he's home, really. He goes away a lot." That was true enough, and if this wizard really knew anything about Love Potions, he would know that they would be ineffective under those circumstances. The interesting question was whether he would say so or not; his reply would be a good indication what he was most interested in selling.

He took his time before answering. "Lasts two days maybe, three if you're really lucky, not more," he said slowly. "How long does he stay away for?"

"A week, sometimes," said Tonks in a dejected voice. "He sells b-- ... he's a salesman, you know." She didn't think Mrs Easton had been foolish enough to tell this wizard any identifying details about herself or her family, and she didn't intend to start now. She stuck her chin up and said in a slightly more defiant voice, "He prefers to stay near to where he's working. Easier access." Again, she hoped that the wizard might interpret this line correctly (or rather, interpret it incorrectly in the way she wanted it interpreted) as being nothing but bravado. Even if Bobby Easton couldn't Apparate, his house was connected to the Floo network, so there was no really convincing reason why he couldn't come home every night if he wanted to.

It seemed to work; he s******ed behind his scarf. "Right, love," he said. "You've got a bit of a problem then. Look, you seem to want hubby kept in line. How badly?"

Ah! The Snitch might just be about to appear here ... OK, this needs to sound like I'm desperate enough to not be thinking clearly. "I ... er ... I really ..." -- Tonks made a noise like a suppressed sob -- "It ... I just thought if I could ... change his routineyouknowsohegotusedtocomingbackhome." She gabbled the last few words, running them together as if she didn't want to admit to her companion what a mess her home life was. She thought it sounded quite artistic,

"Well, you know what I said last time."

I do? That was something Beatrice wasn't very forthcoming about -- she was obviously really embarrassed about it, not keen to repeat it at all. Just bluff your way, girl. Distract him a bit. "Oh, er ... that funny stuff? It's not ... it's not dangerous, is it?"

"Nah," he said patiently. "Used it myself once. Might be a bit iffy if you keep using it for six months straight, but I don't suppose you've got the money to pay for that much anyway, have you?" The mockery was back in his voice.

"No." Tonks dropped her eyes again and hung her head. She wasn't necessarily expecting a discount to be offered this time, but she did want to see what he would do.

"How much would you be willing to pay?" Tonks jerked her head up in surprise. Did he really expect her to be foolish enough to tell him that? Yes. Yes, he probably does. Well, bad luck, mate. "I'm ... I'm not sure," she stammered. "I -- I -- I mean, wh ... what exactly does it do?"

The wizard looked at her with narrowed eyes. "Gives you control over somebody you give it to, like I told you," he said in an irritated tone.

We have a catch! Chalk up the hundred and fifty! "Com -- complete control?"

"Pretty much, yeah. Interested?"

"I ... well ... er ... how much?"

He looked her up and down in a contemplative manner; Tonks flushed and looked away, a reaction she was sure would have been common to both herself and her model. "More than the other stuff. A lot more. Fifteen Galleons a dose. If I can get it. Don't often see it for sale round here."

15 Galleons? That wasn't much less than the 20 the Departmental crib sheet had mentioned as a street price; she was prepared to bet he'd come down a bit -- maybe a lot. She let her face fall, a ploy she'd found useful in her trips down Knockturn Alley when she wanted an excuse not to buy. "Oh ... oh dear. I couldn't afford that. I was hoping you'd say ... well, I don't know, five Galleons maybe."

"Five Galleons?!" The wizard snorted so loudly Tonks wouldn't have been surprised if they could hear him in Diagon Alley, regardless of any privacy charms. "You're having a laugh, aren't you? Do you think this stuff grows on trees?"

"But I'd need ... well, quite a lot of it, wouldn't I? Every day?"

He considered her appraisingly. "So you are interested then ... how does twelve sound to you?"

Tonks gulped. Would Beatrice try to beat him down? Maybe. She's probably used to it in the markets, after all. Just remember to be NERVOUS when you're doing it, girl. "E -- e -- eight?" she said in a quavering manner, attempting to sound like a woman trying, but failing, to keep her voice steady.

The wizard shook his head. "Ten. Final offer, provided you buy at least -- oh, let's say fifteen doses. With a bit of luck that could last you a month. Sure you want it?"

What?! You can supply fifteendoses just like that to a woman in a pub? How much of the bloody stuff do you have in stock, mate? She held her head up defiantly, then dropped it again. "I ... yes," she said in a small voice. "Yes, I'm sure."

"Right." He suddenly became very brisk and businesslike. "It'll take me a few days to get it. Meet me here Monday night, nine o'clock. Can you do that? What's hubby up to?"

"Oh ... yes." Tonks was slightly nonplussed by his sharp change in manner now that the deal had been made. Actually, can I? What is her husband doing? On second thoughts, I don't suppose I want to know. "I think I can, er, get away. I'll say I'm at a, a ... Witches Institute meeting."

"Good." He looked at her over his scarf. "Will you be wanting the other stuff, then?"

"Oh. N -- no. I -- I might, er, need the money." That sounded like a safe answer.

"Yeah, whatever," sneered the wizard. "Always handy for stock, I suppose. OK, let's go." He stood up abruptly, drew back the curtain on the alcove, and waved Tonks out first in an exaggeratedly gentlemanly fashion. She stumbled over her robes again as she left the alcove and nearly fell; the wizard caught her arm and set her straight with a s******. Tonks stiffened at this, and had to fight down a strong urge to hex him. That definitely wasn't in character.

He briefly caught the eye of a man sitting at a table in a dark corner as they passed -- unfortunately Tonks couldn't get a good look at him -- and nodded in acknowledgement at some gesture he made. As they parted outside the pub, he waved at her in the same mocking fashion (this was really starting to irritate her by now) and walked away. As she stood blinking in the bright sunlight of Diagon Alley, she could see him head down Knockturn Alley again, with Cassius in tow.

With a sigh, she headed towards the Floo station to return to base, hoping it wouldn't make her feel too queasy after the Easton Special she'd been forced to drink. Unfortunately, Mrs Easton had never learned to Apparate.

*****

A couple of hours or so later, Tonks put the finishing touches to her report on her lunchtime activities, signed it with a flourish, and sat back to look through the accumulated memos in her in-tray. One from Rhiannon Davies confirmed that the members of Squad 14 should meet in the Ministry foyer at 2pm on Saturday, in preparation for a training session at Auror headquarters, and a drinking session at a venue yet to be determined. The daily bulletin had arrived while she was out, and proved to be as dull as ever. A flyer reiterating that tickets for the Ministry Halloween Ball would go on sale on Monday the first of September was more interesting; Tonks winced at the price, but as it sounded like a lot of fun she made up her mind to go if at all possible..

There were also a couple of more directly work-related items. One was from the Auror assigned to the stolen harpsichord case -- this turned out to be Eleanor Finchley, the plump witch she'd met on her first day (and who had, apparently, been striking wagers with Davies about Tonks' love life). Finchley reported that she'd compiled a list of collectors known to have purchased expensive antiques of this kind, and placed it in the Auror confidential files, from where it could be viewed via the WEB Access. She also suggested that since Farley's interrogation under Veritaserum had provided unexpected supporting evidence that Liquor of Jacmel was used in the theft, Tonks and Cassius should take a look at the list in case any of the names on it rang a bell.

Tonks read over the memo again with a slightly guilty feeling. She had to admit to herself that in the pressure of recent events, she'd forgotten completely about that use of the potion, and made a mental note to remind Cassius as soon as he came in.

At the bottom of the pile was a requested copy of the new form for recouping expenses, together with several sheets of associated instructions. Tonks groaned as she remembered that she still hadn't got around to claiming her money back for the purchases from Lore of Yore, more than a fortnight ago. She reached into her desk drawer for the books, and started to flick through the long-winded instructions; then decided that at the moment she simply wasn't in the mood to fill out the form to the required level of bureaucratic detail. She gathered up books and forms and tossed them all into a spare corner of her cubicle desk to deal with later.

Cassius arrived back at this point, and waved tiredly as he walked over to meet her. "You first, Tonks," he said. "Did you have any luck in the meeting?"

Tonks smiled to herself. Just a bit, mate. "Well, I couldn't see his face," she said, pretending to look forlorn. "And he offered me another bottle of Love Potion, but that's not illegal." Cassius grimaced. "Oh, and I placed an order for fifteen doses of some potion that gives you complete control of people. Other than that, nothing much happened really."

It took a few seconds for this statement to sink in past Cassius' obvious disappointment. Three, two, one ... "You did what?!" he yelped.

"Got him to offer me something that's either Jacmel, or if it isn't the Haitians should sue him for plagiarism," she said happily. "Reckon that's a result?"

A huge grin spread slowly across Cassius' face. "I think it might just qualify. Tell me more!"

Tonks did, briefly running through what had been said at the Transfigured Toad. "So, Monday's looking like a red-letter day, then," she concluded. "Always assuming he isn't lying through his teeth about being able to get the stuff, of course."

"I don't like this delay much," Cassius said, frowning. "If he has the potion to hand, it shouldn't take him that long to get it? I'd say there's an excellent chance he's only a middleman or a reseller."

"Got to be a big step forward, though," said Tonks brightly. "What did he do after he left the pub? Talk to any suppliers? Looks like you've been chasing him around for a while."

Cassius snorted. "Yes, indeed. In the hottest part of the day. Next time, I wear thinner robes. And to my surprise, it turns out that I'm not as young as I was."

Tonks chuckled. "Yeah, right, I know. Pounding the beat is a young wizard's game. Where did he go, Cassius?"

"Down Knockturn Alley to start with -- you probably saw that. Talked to people in several different shops. I made a list of which ones, but I couldn't get close enough to hear what they were saying. Then I had a bit of luck; I heard him call to someone as he came out one of them -- actually, I think it was your 'friend' in Wells' shop -- that he'd be in the Transfigured Toad again for the next half an hour or so if anybody wanted him."

Cassius sat back, clearly enjoying telling his tale. "Anyway, he Disapparated, so I waited a minute or two and followed suit. When I got into the pub, he was pretty deep in conversation with the landlord. Obviously, though, they stopped talking when I went up to the bar. I sat at one of the nearby tables, and kept looking at my watch as if I was expecting somebody, but they kept their voices down after that. Then the landlord pointed somebody sitting in a corner out to him, and he went and talked to them for a while. I think gold changed hands when they parted, but I was standing outside by that point -- I thought it would look far too suspicious if I waited until he left and then followed him."

"How did you see, then?" asked Tonks curiously. "The windows in that place are frosted. And covered in dust, come to think of it."

"One-way transparency charm on the door, useful little spell, I don't know if they teach it much nowadays," said Cassius with a trace of smugness. "Well, I suppose it can be a bit obvious what you're up to when you use it. Unless, of course, you know how to do the variation which makes it only visible -- or rather invisible -- for the person who cast the spell. One of those old Auror tricks of the trade that come with decades of practice, you see."

"Cool!" said Tonks, considerably impressed.

"I thought so. Unfortunately, that pub's dark, and they were in the far corner, so even then I couldn't be sure exactly what they were doing. Anyway, the fellow came out after a while, and then he toddled off along Diagon Alley and went down one of those little avenues that branch off from it." Tonks nodded; she knew quite a number of the side streets by now. "I didn't dare follow him in straight away, not after he'd seen me at the pub, and unfortunately it's too crowded in the Alley at the moment to get away with Transfiguring your appearance without attracting far too much attention."

"****."

"That was my thought exactly. But luckily, it was one of those alleyways that lead into a little yard, and I could see him on the other side through the opening. He went into one of the buildings, but he Disapparated straight away when he came out so I lost him at that point." He grinned. "To be honest, I didn't mind as much as I should have. All that standing around was making my feet hurt."

"What was the building? Any idea?"

He shrugged. "Just a room available for hire, according to the notice on the door. Listed as being available for parties, meetings, and things like that. I took a look through the window; it was dark inside, but there didn't seem to be much in there apart from a bit of old furniture. I suppose that might have been what he was talking about in the corner of the pub."

"True. What about the other people he talked to? Should we be thinking about bringing them in for a 'chat' if they know who he is?"

Cassius smiled. "Not yet. Anyway, if he goes to the trouble of keeping his face hidden -- and I think you're probably right about the charm, Tonks, I didn't see his scarf slip once in all the time I was following him -- I don't imagine he gives out his real name to most of his contacts. Not many people do when they conduct business in that part of town."

"Fair enough," said Tonks with a touch of chagrin, leaning back against the desk. The sight of the books and forms in the corner reminded her of the harpsichord case memo. "Oh, by the way, that Eleanor Finchley woman wants us to look at a little list she's drawn up? You know, people who might want a rare magic piano thingy and not be too fussy how their supplier got hold of it?"

"Does she?" said Cassius. "Interesting. That's because of the hint in Farley's testimony when we interrogated him, I suppose?" From the way he said it, he obviously hadn't needed to be reminded. Ah. Must be all that experience. He chattered on, oblivious to her chagrined expression. "That was really quite a slice of luck, getting independent confirmation that we were right about Jacmel being used. I wasn't expecting much in the way of progress on that aspect of the case, to be honest. I wouldn't be surprised if the piano's on the Continent or the other side of the Atlantic by now, would you?"

"Yeah, that's pretty much what I thought, too," said Tonks unblushingly. "Let's go look at her list, shall we?"

*****

Fortunately, the WEB Access wasn't in use when they wandered over. Tonks tapped on the frame with her wand, and Gogol appeared right on cue.

"Hi there," she said, throwing herself into one of the chairs. "We were told there was a list of people who collect antique musical instruments recently added to the confidential Auror files? Can you bring it back for us?"

"Certainly, miss," he said. "Do you know who added it?"

"Eleanor Finchley."

"Ah yes, that will be easy. In fact, I remember it now." He tapped his wand on some filing cabinets at one side of the painting. Tonks watched in fascination as the document appeared instantly on the scroll; there were clearly some very powerful charms in action to make all this work. She performed the Scriptorum corporalis spell a couple of times, and handed Cassius a copy of the list as he sank gratefully into the chair next to her with a rueful mutter about his feet..

"Now then," he said, running an eye down the list, "it looks like most of these people are foreigners -- Continentals or American, just as I said. This sort of crime tends to be international. I'm sure Eleanor will be liaising with their law enforcement officials, but it's rare we ever catch anyone. Too many ways to smuggle things out, too many gaps between the Ministries for information to fall through."

"Didn't you used to know some of the Americans?" asked Tonks. "You don't have a favour or two you could call in by any chance?"

"Not really," said Cassius dubiously, "it was twenty-odd years ago. I think the chap I knew best has retired now." He looked at the list again. "Not many locals on here. I don't suppose there can be many people with the money to indulge this sort of interest."

Tonks studied the list a bit more carefully, and felt her heart jump slightly. Most of its half-dozen names of wealthy British wizards were unknown to her, but one leapt out from the parchment.

"I see Lucius Malfoy is on the list," she said.

"Young Malfoy?" said Cassius in surprise. "I've never known quite what to make of him. We were as certain as we could be without actual proof that he was a Death Eater; but when we mopped up the suspects after You-Know-Who disappeared, he claimed to have been under Imperius. He passed all the tests, anyway, and as far as I know he's kept his nose clean since then. Lots of charity work and things like that. Blood purist, of course, but that doesn't necessarily mean he's a dark wizard."

"I've never had any doubt that he is," said Tonks quietly.

Cassius looked at her curiously. "You know him, then?"

"He's my uncle." At a inquiring look from her partner, she continued, "By marriage, anyway. My mother's sister, obviously. Actually, my aunt's bearable, although I wouldn't trust her not to have been a You-Know-Who supporter, but Lucius Malfoy ... he never made any secret of his views when talking to family. I'd call him a scumbag -- but that would just be an insult to bags filled with scum."

"I see." Cassius visibly hesitated; it had been plain for some time to all concerned that Tonks' extended family was a touchy subject for her. "Even if he is a dark wizard -- and we don't have any proof of that," he said carefully, "it doesn't follow that he's the one who placed this order, you know. All it indicates is that he's known to have bought pieces on the open market. I mean, he's rich, and his wife's rich -- he can probably afford it even if they're just for show."

"Yeah, and doesn't he know it," said Tonks spitefully. She shook herself; it wouldn't be good to start ranting about these things in front of Cassius again. She made an effort to change the topic slightly. "Who are the rest of them? They don't ring any bells for me."

Cassius threw her a look, but answered readily enough. "Well, I've never heard of Archibald Blackstock, or Tarquin Finch-Fletchley either -- good lord, it says he's a Muggle, no wonder."

"He's a what?" Tonks raised her eyebrows. "What would he do with a magical piano -- sorry, harpsichord? Where would he ever see one anyway?"

Cassius shrugged. "I suppose he could keep it hidden, or say it was controlled by one of those, er, copmeter things. Must have a wizarding relation." He snickered. "And a fortune big enough to survive the rather poor exchange rates the goblins offer when converting pounds into Galleons."

He looked at the list again and chuckled. "Ah, Auchtermuchty and Strathnaver Kinross ... I've known those two since I was young. They're brothers, members of an old Scottish wizarding family, extremely rich -- I believe their ancestors were once lairds. Always absolutely hated each other, very competitive; I imagine if one of them started collecting the other would try to outdo him." He shook his head at Tonks' look of inquiry. "I seriously doubt they would ever get involved with criminals, though, they always had too much concern for the Honour of the Kinrosses."

"Who's this last one, then?" asked Tonks.

"Francis Bletchley? I don't know the first name but I do know the family name. Another old family, I believe they're second or third cousins of mine." He smiled at her. "Well, come to think of it, I suppose most people from the old families are. You'd probably turn out to be my great-great-great-niece or something if we ever bothered to look it up."

Tonks grinned back. "OK, Uncle Cassius. So, nothing much to report to Miss Finchley then?"

"Mrs. But no, I don't think there is, not unless any of the names come up in connection with the case." He looked at the painting again. "I'd suggest you take a look through the rogue's gallery on here to see if you can spot our seller today, but did you see enough of him to tell?"

"Probably not. Mr Gogol, could you show me recent pictures of people with a known criminal record for selling illegal potions or ingredients?"

"Certainly, miss." He disappeared for a moment or two and supplied a stack of wizarding photographs, but although a few of them were recognisable to Tonks from Knockturn Alley, none resembled the wizard she'd just met. She shrugged.

"Worth a try, I suppose. Of course, he may not have a record. Anyway, it's difficult to tell without the scarf."

"I could show you just pictures of young men with face scarves, miss?" said Gogol helpfully.

"Yes, OK." This was much shorter pile, and the faces didn't ring any bells for Tonks, although something was nagging at the back of her mind.

"No luck?" asked Cassius.

"No, I don't recognise th -- oh."

"Yes?"

Tonks turned to the portrait. "Mr Gogol -- how did you do that?"

"I beg your pardon, miss?" the searchwizard said in confusion.

"How did you find pictures of wizards in scarves particularly? Are they, um, indexed by content or something?"

"Not really, miss, but remember, even as a portrait I retain my original abilities to recognise things in pictures?" He sounded slightly hurt. "Of course, the additional spells on this painting mean that I can search much faster than I could bef--"

Tonks cut him off. "So you can search for pictures matching a certain description, without it having to be catalogued in advance?"

"Yes, miss, we can, although you'll need to give us some idea of where to look," said Gogol happily. "We do keep some record of what's in a picture, but we can't tell if it's exactly what you're looking for, of course."

Tonks glanced at Cassius, who was looking puzzled. "Great! Look, if we show you something, can you find -- oh, I don't know, pictures that look like it?"

"We can certainly try, miss."

With a muttered "excuse me" to a startled Cassius, Tonks dashed off to find Cornworthy, skidding to a halt next to his cubicle and knocking a pile a papers over with her elbow. He made a very quick dive to catch them; a few weeks of Tonks' presence had been quite enough to alert the rest of the Aurors that they might need to practice instant damage control whenever she was around.

"Sorry!" she said. "Arnie, can I borrow your Image Projector?"

"Erm ... I suppose so," he said, somewhat nonplussed. "What for?"

"I want to search for that blonde woman Farley saw on the WEB thing."

"Oh." He raised his eyebrows. "Yes, we could have tried that, I suppose, but you do know it doesn't give good results when you're trying to make identifications?" He looked at Tonks gloomily. "We've tried it before, never had much luck. There are plenty of pictures in the Hall, of course, but the searchwizards can't say definitely if it's a particular person unless they knew them before they were a painting. And that's always assuming it's her real appearance. Like I said, she did seem a bit too good to be true."

Tonks wasn't in a pessimistic mood. "Yeah, but we've got Cassius, haven't we? He thought he knew her. All the painting bloke has got to do is find someone Cassius thinks he recognises and we're laughing, aren't we?"

"Well, I suppose ..." he said doubtfully. At any rate, he passed her the recorder without further objection. She thanked him and returned to Cassius, rather more slowly and carefully this time.

She tapped the gadget a few times with her wand until the picture of the woman Farley had seen came up. "OK, this is her," she said to Gogol. "Can you dig out any pictures with people who look a bit like her?" Cassius looked at Tonks with surprise, and some disgruntlement. Apparently this approach hadn't occurred to him either.

The painted wizard pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Yes, miss, but I don't suppose you can tell me where to look to narrow it down a bit?" he said. "I can search for pictures of young blonde women who resemble this one -- quite happy to, in fact -- but there must be an awful lot of them in the archives. Thousands, I'd say."

"Cassius?" said Tonks. "Any suggestions?"

He blinked and came out of a reverie. "Oh, er, yes," he said hastily. "You might start by looking in the Daily Prophet and the provincial wizarding press over the last five years or so. Most likely it would be in connection with some social function in the North or the Midlands. Can you just bring back a selection of pictures for us to look at while you go and find some more?"

"No problem, sir," said Gogol, who had obviously been one of those librarians who delight in being given a challenge. He reached for a bound volume of Daily Prophets on one of the shelves in the picture itself, flipping through them at such a speed Tonks realised it had to be due to the magical enhancement. He tapped a number of pages with his wand, and gradually a stack of pictures appeared on the table next to him. When it had reached a height of about a foot, he brought them back to the foreground of the painting

"Just take a look through these, sir." He fixed the first one into the scroll, and disappeared again into the depths of the Hall of Records.

Cassius and Tonks went through the set of pictures carefully, but as far as they could tell none of them appeared to be the woman they were looking for. However, by the time they'd reached the bottom of the pile, Gogol was back with another stack, and soon after yet another. It was half-way through the fifth pile that Cassius let out a cry of triumph.

"Ha!" He enlarged the picture currently being displayed, a group portrait of some kind of formal dinner party, and pointed to a woman in the second row. "That's her! I'm sure of it!"

Tonks looked closely at the woman's picture and compared it with the one on Cornworthy's image projector. "It does look like her, doesn't it?" she said, with mounting excitement. "Who is she?"

Cassius read the details off the accompanying caption. "Portia Blackstock, daughter of ... Archibald and Vanessa Blackstock," he said.

"Blackstock?" cried Tonks.

"Blackstock. Daughter of Archibald Blackstock. Well." They exchanged almost awed glances. "That's all it says, but I'm practically sure that's the young woman I've seen before. Mr Gogol!"

The searchwizard's head popped into view from behind a shelf. "Yes?"

"Can you cross-reference your search with the name Portia Blackstock?"

"Of course, sir!" He vanished again, returning in short order with another pile of papers. Tonks flicked through and pointed out one of them.

"Look!" It was another photograph, of the attendees at another formal dinner on behalf of a charity to assist distressed Muggle-borns and half-bloods who had fallen on hard times, dated a few years before. Portia Blackstock was there with her parents, in the front row this time, and near one end of the third row of the photograph was a wizard who was unmistakeably Cassius. Tonks performed the copying spell and Cassius picked up the printed report and read it carefully.

"This is definitely it, Tonks," he said, with growing conviction. "I can remember this dinner now. My wife -- that's her next to me -- was a strong supporter of this charity, and this was their big annual fundraising occasion." Tonks looked more closely at the woman next to Cassius in the picture. Yes, she remembered her from the photos in Cassius' cubicle, although surprisingly in the photograph she looked older than him.

His brows knit. "It was up in Birmingham -- yes, look, it says so here. They hired a room for the evening at a local hall, put Muggle-Repelling Charms on it, and brought in house-elves to wait on the tables. This Miss Blackstock, let me think -- she was on my table, opposite side, about three seats down. Her parents were some sort of bigwigs in the local magical community."

"What was she like?" asked Tonks with interest.

"Well, now I think of it," said Cassius reflectively, "she appeared to be quite a nice girl. I remember her as chatting away quite pleasantly to everyone all night. I'd never have pictured her in somewhere like the Transfigured Toad, let alone doing something like this."

Tonks coughed. "You wouldn't be letting her ... um, appearance influence you, would you?"

Cassius looked annoyed, but only for a moment. "Well, I might be, I suppose. Not that seeming decent necessarily means a lot. Some of the nastiest villains I ever put away could be absolute charmers when they put their minds to it."

He turned to Gogol again and clapped his hands. "Mr Gogol. Please give me everything you can find on the Blackstock family of Birmingham. Let's see if we can get to the bottom of this."

Gogol obliged, but unfortunately 'everything' in this case turned out not to be very much. Tonks skimmed through the results; the Blackstocks appeared almost exclusively in the commercial and social reports. They were nouveau riche, Archibald Blackstock's father apparently having been a Muggle-born wizard who had made a fairly sizeable amount of money, first as a supplier of cauldrons, robes and other paraphernalia, then as an inventor of handy gadgets.

The business was still going strong, but his son seemed to be attempting to live down the fact that he was a half-blood by involving himself in charitable work, the organisation of local events, and general largesse. He'd made it onto Finchley's list because he'd purchased an antique enchanted piano from a dealer for the use of his wife, who was from a good pureblood family. There were no known underworld connections, although that was hardly conclusive.

Tonks looked sideways at Cassius. "Well?" she said. "Does this mean there's a link?"

"I don't know, Tonks," he said helplessly. "I ... I just don't know. I honestly didn't expect to get anything from Eleanor's list, let alone a possible connection. It could be pure coincidence of course -- it's a small world -- but we can't assume that, can we?"

"I guess not." Tonks looked at the sheets of parchment; this was beginning to make her head hurt. "Are things always this confusing?" she asked plaintively. "I'm starting to think I should have stuck to something easier, like flobberworm farming."

Cassius laughed. "Oh, usually cases turn out either to be really easy -- like when we talked to our friend Beatrice -- or else you get absolutely nowhere. As I thought this was going to. I suppose you just got lucky, Tonks, and got an interesting bean first pick out of the box."

"Lucky. Not sure that's quite the word for it, mate. Interesting, yes."

"Oh, I don't know. More fun than spending your first couple of years on the job chasing anti-Muggle pranksters, wouldn't you say? That's what I was doing most of the time."

He selected a number of the references Gogol had found and ran off printed versions of them. "I'd better get these over to Donnacha and Arnold." He stood up, then paused for a moment with an unreadable expression on his face. "You know, it never occurred to me to use this thing to look for pictures? I guess I might be getting past it after all."

"Cassius ..." said Tonks, gently; but he just walked away, shoulders slumped.


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12. Good Matches and Bad

Friday August 14th 1994

Cassius was already at his desk when Tonks arrived the following morning. At least he seemed to have cheered up a bit; she took this as a good sign. He informed her that he'd spent some time going over all the information he had once again, and prepared summaries of it for the benefit of themselves, the Aurors on the related cases, and the daily bulletin. Under the circumstances, Tonks decided that the best course was to let well alone and not mention his parting words of the previous afternoon.

"Great," she said (in a voice that, she realised uncomfortably, sounded a shade too hearty). "Listen, I just dropped in to tell you I've got to floo down to Worthing again to tip off Mrs Easton what's going on. I'll see you later, OK?"

Cassius looked slightly disgruntled, and Tonks felt a twinge of guilt. She didn't want to give him the impression that she intended to take the investigation too much into her own hands, especially as she knew that she needed him badly. She was well aware that she still had a hell of a lot to learn. Oh hell ... "Er, I daren't Floo in to her house directly or Apparate in case she has any of the Muggle neighbours calling round. Fancy coming along for the ride, Cassius? Make a trip of it, look around the town a bit?"

He visibly brightened. "Er, yes, actually. I feel like stretching my legs a bit. I've been sitting here for about three hours now."

Three hours? Blimey, that was an early start. I hope you're not trying to prove anything, Cassius, because you don't need to as far as I'm concerned. "Right then," she said with a smile. "You go first this time -- then if I trip over the grate again you can catch me!"

Joking aside, Tonks didn't intend to embarrass herself by actually doing that. She took her own good time with the Floo preparations after Cassius had stepped into the fire in the Ministry foyer and vanished. She ignored the annoyed looks and muttered comments of the people standing in line behind her. After all, at this time of day, there were plenty of other fires available if they could be bothered to move ... She kept her eyes closed and elbows pressed tightly to her sides for the journey (wishing it had occurred to her to just Apparate to the station -- she was fairly confident she could remember it well enough to get there), and when she arrived allowed plenty of time to steady herself and regain her balance before looking down carefully at the grate and stepping over it.

"Good morning, Miss Tonks," said a cheerful voice that sounded vaguely familiar. "We really mustn't keep meeting like this. So nice to see you again, though."

Tonks looked up to see Angelica Hallendale smiling at her mischievously. "Weekend shopping again. I'm afraid my son isn't here today though for you to, er, fall for."

"Ah. No." Tonks reddened slightly at the implication, and hastily concealed the blush with a quick use of her Metamorphmagus talents. Cassius' mouth twitched, in a way that suggested he understood exactly what she'd done.

"Mrs Hallendale was just telling me a little about herself," he said smoothly. "Did you know your ex-prefect friend wasn't English?"

"He isn't?" Tonks raised her eyebrows.

"Not really, Miss Tonks," explained his mother, throwing Cassius a look of slight reproof. "I suppose he is American by ancestry, but we've been here so long now that I think we're pretty well ... assimilated. In more than one way."

"Is that what your accent is, then?" asked Tonks with interest. "I couldn't quite place it. Your son didn't have one at all, as far as I could tell."

Mrs Hallendale looked at her with a curious expression that was half-annoyance, half wry smile. "You weren't supposed to notice that I did, either," she said. "I always try to fit in, even where I don't. And no, it's not American -- although I guess most of the tutors I had as a kid were, so it might have rubbed off on me. I thought I'd managed to retain some of my Latin complexion, at least, despite the weather here. Can't you tell?" She seemed a little put out.

Aagh. Why do I always seem to put my foot in it with this family? "Oh, that's where the dark hair comes from, is it?" she asked brightly, making a valiant recovery attempt. "South America, maybe?"

"Not quite," she replied, mollified. "Cuba, actually. We had very nice ... ah, family estates there. Before Mr Castro came along, that is, but I'd moved on by then, of course."

"Er, who?" said Tonks, bemused. Angelica Hallendale's jaw dropped slightly.

"Muggle president, took over in the fifties," put in Cassius hastily. He turned back to Angelica. "I suppose in that case. I ought to feel class solidarity with you, then," he joked. "I'm not sure if we've ever had a radical Ministry, but if we do, I don't think they'll need to expropriate us pure-bloods. We seem to be managing to die out quite well all by ourselves."

She smiled at him rather sadly. "You know, to an outsider like me, wizarding society always seemed to have a rather curious ... inversion about it? I know when I entered it, it was quite a shock to go from being a privileged little lady to one of the Unmentionables, but the really odd thing was that there were more people like you than people like me. I didn't notice at first -- it was all too exciting! -- but even some of the odd, seedy little people Hank and me dealt with seemed to think they were better than us, just because their parents and grandparents had been wizards too. It's not quite so bad as it was here when ... that man was around, but it's a difficult world for an outsider to enter. But then, I would have been an outsider anywhere, I think. It seems to be my fate."

"Oh, I hope not," said Tonks, for whom those words stung. "You're quite welcome in our world as far as anyone decent is concerned." It took her a second to realise that the phrase 'our world' could in itself be construed as rather tactless. "I mean, look at Cassius here," she said in a desperate attempt to recover. "He's as pure-blooded as anyone, and he even puts up with me!"

Cassius smiled. "Well, she does test my tolerance to its limits sometimes," he joked. "I hope we haven't put you off, Mrs Hallendale. It makes a nice change to see a Muggle who knows about the magical world and isn't scared of us, but actually ... well, takes part in it as a member of the community. It's a rare thing."

Mrs Hallendale looked at him with an unreadable expression that eventually turned into a slight smile of her own. "I dare say I can't help but be a part of it now. That seems to be my fate too. To be honest with you, Mr Scrimgeour ... I do sometimes miss where I grew up, and even more how I grew up. It was nice to be rich, from a privileged hacendado family, with a father who owned latifundias and shipping companies and factories and all sorts of other wonderful things that I never quite understood as a young girl ... although Montgomery does," she said with a fond smile. "But I suppose I wouldn't go back to that life now even if I could. Far too stifling, and I've seen enough of what life is like on the other side now to feel just a little bit ashamed of taking it all so casually. And although it doesn't seem that way sometimes, probably I would miss the magic. I mean, I did run away from home with a wizard."

"Excellent taste, if I may say so," said Cassius with a mischievous look of his own.

"Why thank you, Mr Scrimgeour, I do believe you're a gentleman," she said demurely. "Either that, or you're not a gentleman and trying to flatter me for your own nefarious purposes, of course." It was Cassius' turn to blush; Tonks grinned at his discomfiture.

Angelica Hallendale turned to her with a surreptitious wink. "So what brings a couple of Aurors to our quiet little town twice in a week, then?" she asked lightly.

"Oh, nothing much, just a vitally important case," replied Tonks in the same vein. "I could tell you what it was, but then I'm afraid I'd have to Obliviate you." Angelica laughed along with her at this, but there seemed to be a slight uneasiness behind the humour. Tonks realised that a statement like that, especially coming from an Auror, must sound like a real threat to a Muggle.

"So where's Montgomery today then?" she asked in an attempt to move the conversation onto more comfortable ground. "Didn't he need to be with you for you to get in here?" She groaned to herself even as she said it, realising that it too sounded heavy-handed. It seemed that she was fated to say the wrong thing every time she spoke to Mrs Hallendale.

"Oh, I think I can manage to take a Portkey without a minder," she replied, with what Tonks was sure was a hint of coolness. "And you only need a ticket and the password to get through the door." She walked over to a table where an empty Coke can was standing, and picked it up, slightly more emphatically than might have been strictly necessary. "Montgomery is at work today -- you know, shipments to organise, contracts to negotiate, orders to place. When you're the boss you can't always take time off to accompany your poor mother on her shopping trips."

She turned back to them. "Mind you," she continued with a twinkle in her eyes, "at least you remembered him. You know, I think he was quite taken with you too, Miss Tonks, now you're all grown up and responsible."

With evident enjoyment, she watched Tonks blush unmistakeably this time, as the Portkey activated and carried her away.

*****

"You've gone a bit quiet again, Cassius?"

"Oh, sorry?" He looked round at her quickly as they walked down the back streets of Worthing away from the Floo station. "What was that?"

"I said you'd gone a bit quiet, mate," she repeated. She looked at him and joined the morning's list of mischievous grins. "Our Muggle friend didn't touch a nerve when she said you might be a nefarious non-gentleman, by any chance?"

"No!" he said indignantly. Tonks continued to grin at him expectantly.

"What was it then? You did look a bit miffed. I thought you might fancy her."

"Tonks ..." he said reprovingly. He hesitated, then said with resignation, "Oh all right. It was ... just exactly the sort of thing my wife might have said. Oddly enough, Mrs Hallendale reminds me of her, just a little. It's a ... trifle disconcerting." Tonks glanced sideways at him. He certainly seemed to be a little ruffled.

"Yeah?" She remembered the photos on Cassius' cubicle walls, and frowned. "Hang on, your wife was blonde, wasn't she? She didn't look anything like Mrs Hallendale."

Cassius frowned at her. "I didn't mean that she looked like my wife," he said with a trace of irritation. "She just seems to have the same sort of personality. And ..." He looked away, staring at the houses on the opposite side of the street as if he wasn't really seeing them properly. "I miss her, Tonks. I really miss her. I didn't know just how much I would miss her until it happened. Talking with that woman was ... bittersweet, I suppose. It reminded me of the good times, and then that reminded me that I don't have them any more."

The houses in the street they were walking along had low walls separating the gardens from the pavement; he sat down heavily on one of them, and made a helpless gesture at her. "I don't suppose you'd understand, Tonks. Young people can't, really." He turned his head away, but Tonks was sure she could see a tear forming in his eye.

She looked at him awkwardly, feeling an unusually strong surge of sympathy. She hesitated for a moment, unsure of how he'd react -- then sat down, put her arms around him, and hugged him. "Cassius," she said quietly. "I don't suppose I can understand exactly what you're feeling, no. But I can see it hurts you, mate. I can tell that you ... well, you put on a brave face for the rest of us and are always terribly polite, but you don't seem to think that, er ..." Oh hell. How did you manage to get yourself into a situation like this again, Little Miss Tactless? "You seem to think we don't ... don't think you should be here or something. Listen, mate, you're just fine by me. I don't know how I'd have managed without your help."

He brushed something from his eye and turned to her with a very good attempt at his usual smile. "I'm glad to hear it. I'm sorry if I'm being a little maudlin."

"Hey, we're all entitled. You've listened to me on one of my rants before now, haven't you?"

"It's expected of age," he said wryly. He gently disentangled himself from Tonks, patted her hand in a gesture of thanks, and looked at his now slightly dishevelled robes. "We'd better not appear at Mrs Easton's door looking like this."

He brushed the robes back into shape, then looked up at her again, apparently struggling to find the right words for what he wanted to say. "Thank you, Tonks. Again. You're ... you're being a pretty decent sort, young lady, you know that? When Claymore said he was assigning you to me, he spent quite a bit of time talking up your 'special talents'. I had visions of some brash kid who thought they knew it all. I must say I'm quite relieved with what I got." Finally, a smile was back on his face, even if it was a little hesitant.

Tonks breathed a silent sigh of relief. "That's OK," she said cheerfully. "Actually, when I started I was worried sick I might get assigned to some hard-nosed bugger who'd yell at me all day. Instead, I got someone who's like" -- she nearly said "the old wizard grandfather I never had", but realised, just in time to change tack, that this might sound like another insulting comment about his age -- "the uncle I never had. Pretty cool, really."

"Hmm." Despite the fact that he still looked a little shaken, the twinkle was definitely back in his eye now. "Well, that's worrying. I'm supposed to keep you in line, not let you run around thinking I'm a soft touch." He looked at her sternly and wagged a finger at her. "Another word out of place and you're on report, young lady."

"Yes sir! How high shall I levitate myself, sir?" She saluted him, almost succeeding in keeping the grin off her face while she did so.

"Oh, shut up," he said, laughing.

They walked on into the street where the Eastons lived, still grinning companionably, and knocked at the door. It came as something of a shock to them both when it was thrown open, not by Beatrice Easton, but by a very angry-looking Bobby Easton.

*****

Beatrice Easton was sitting in the lounge when they followed him in, nervously twisting a handkerchief around her fingers. She looked at them with mute pleading as Bobby Easton turned, planted his feet in front of the fireplace, and glared at them.

"What have you been saying to my wife, Aurors?" he said without preamble.

Tonks and Cassius exchanged awkward glances. This was something they hadn't been prepared for. In fact, they'd had no idea he knew anything about who they were

Better strike back quick before he gets into his stride here. "What has she been saying to you?" replied Tonks sharply. "You were asked not to tell anyone anything, Beatrice."

Beatrice Easton looked quite terrified, but her husband wasn't. "I don't care what you asked her," he said pugnaciously. "I've checked my rights! You had no authority to tell her what she could or couldn't do. Making us look bad with the neighbours! All she's done is buy a few items that might possibly have fallen off the back of a broom -- although I'm not conceding that they did -- and you come round here and scare her half to death! It's not exactly an Auror-level thing, is it! What's the matter, run out of Dark Wizards to catch? Find it all too hard tracking down the real villains? Want to have a go at someone a little less dangerous?"

Buy a few items that ... what was that again exactly? It was clear from this that Bobby Easton really didn't know what his wife had been up to. Tonks caught Cassius' eye again, and received the tiniest shake of the head from him: leave this to me.

"You may perhaps have received the wrong impression, Mr Easton," he said smoothly. "It seems that your wife may inadvertently have been dealing with a supplier that we're taking an interest in. She was kind enough to offer to allow us to use her, erm, access in order to investigate."

"Access?" said Easton suspiciously. He glanced at his wife who nodded, frightened. Tonks couldn't decide which of them she felt more irritated by.

"Yes. You realise that what I am about to say relates to a criminal investigation, and everything told to you is in the strictest confidence?" Ah, good approach, Cassius, added Tonks mentally. We'll find out where he got his leak from later.

"I suppose so. Get on with it." Easton's manners hadn't improved, but Tonks had an uneasy feeling that he did have wizarding law on his side. Unfortunately, it sounded like he'd obtained some legal advice, and therefore actually knew this. She made a mental note to dig out her textbooks when she had a spare moment and give herself a quick refresher course.

"Very well." Cassius paused, clearly trying to arrange his thoughts. "The fellow we're looking at seems to have quite a wide range of sales contacts. He's also known to deal in some rather dubious materials from time to time. We noticed while we had him under observation that your wife had purchased a few items from him, and when we asked her about it, she told us that they were a special offer on import. She was quite shocked when we explained to her that we were interested in him." Tonks managed to hide a smile; she noticed that Cassius hadn't actually lied to him, and wondered vaguely if this was simply because it might be a bad tactical move under the circumstances.

"I'll say she's shocked," snapped Easton. "She was crying her bloody eyes out when I confronted her with it. Where do you get off on scaring my wife like that?" I don't notice you being exactly comforting, mate, thought Tonks unkindly, but she had sense enough not to say so out loud.

"Well, I'm afraid we sometimes find that dealing with Aurors can be frightening, especially for law-abiding individuals," Cassius continued soothingly. Tonks glanced at Beatrice Easton as he said this to see how she was taking it; her expression was partly sullen, partly panic-stricken, but as their eyes met she managed to convey a clear message: please, just get me out of this without mentioning what I was doing, and I won't contradict anything you say to my husband! "And of course the people we deal with can be very alarming, as well. Your wife allowed us to use her identity in order to make contact with the fellow."

"Identity?" said Easton, with eyes bulging. "What do you mean, identity? What have you been doing to my wife?" His face had reddened alarmingly. It wasn't the moment, but the inappropriate thought flashed across Tonks' mind: You won't be getting any mysterious owls in a feminine hand if you look like that, Bobby.

Cassius hastened to calm him down. "No, no, no, you misunderstand me, Mr Easton. My colleague here merely, er, took her place in one or two meetings with our, ah, quarry. She's quite good at Transfiguration, you see." Well, that's one way of putting it. Probably a good idea not to let him know I'm a Metamorphmagus..

"Transfiguration? I thought she could just change her looks any time she wanted to?" Always assuming, that is, that he doesn't already know. Tonks saw Cassius' look of surprise and realised that this was something else they'd have to ask how Easton knew about, once the conversation had calmed down a bit.

"Changing their looks is something any good Auror should be able to do, Mr Easton, although my colleague here is certainly very skilled at it," said Cassius evasively. "And you wouldn't want your wife to be meeting up with this chap herself, not now that she knows he's under investigation, would you? She could be at serious risk if he thought she might be working with us. You never can tell what these people might do when cornered, but they're none too scrupulous."

Easton looked somewhat appeased by this explanation. "Why didn't you tell me about this?" he barked, turning on his wife, who jumped. "What were you buying from him that you couldn't get elsewhere anyway?"

"Oh, er, hellebore leaves and spine of lionfish, for some potions," she said quickly, in fact much more quickly than Tonks would have expected of her. She guessed that Beatrice must have realised that she was bound to be asked this question at some stage, and had spent most of the last few minutes coming up with a convincing answer -- or one that would convince her husband, at any rate.

Easton banged his fist on the mantelpiece, causing a well-thumbed copy of Magical Me hidden behind an ornament to fall off into the coal scuttle. "I told you that I can get those sorts of things for you at a good price while I'm away!" he said in exasperation. "Why do you always have to go chasing after cheap offers? Don't I give you enough Galleons for the housekeeping or something?"

"You forget to bring them back sometimes," replied his wife in a low voice, with (Tonks was quite pleased to see) the beginnings of a mutinous expression on her face.

"Oh, so it's my fault now that you can't keep track of what you need, is it? How many times ..."

Cassius coughed hastily, interrupting what might otherwise have developed into a fine marital row. "Anyway, Mrs Easton -- and Mr Easton too of course -- we just called round to let you know that we'll be continuing to work in this way for a little while yet. It's really very kind of you to allow us to do so."

Easton looked at him with distaste. "No you bloody won't," he said. "I'm not having your girl here prancing around pretending to be my wife, and putting both of us in danger. What happens if these people find out who we are? They could come round here to murder us in our beds!"

Well, you'd probably be safe then, thought Tonks sarcastically. Easton's bombast was grating on her a little.

"It's all right, Bobby," put in his wife, unexpectedly. "I don't mind. I never told him who I was, and if we can do anything to help, we should, shouldn't we? It sounds as if this is a dangerous man, and we don't want him to go free because of us, do we?" She spotted Tonks looking at her in surprise and gave her a very slight, tremulous smile, as if amazed at her own boldness. Tonks could almost have kissed her.

Easton looked disgruntled, but didn't seem to be able to find a retort without looking soft. "I suppose so," he said grumpily. "Just make sure that this doesn't come back to bite us, OK?"

"Certainly, sir," said Cassius. He made a slight gesture to Tonks to indicate that this would be a good time to make their exit, and they moved towards the front door with the Eastons following. "Oh by the way," he asked casually, "who told you we were Aurors? It can be a bit dangerous sometimes if people know who we are."

"None of your **** business," snapped Easton trenchantly. "If Beatrice here wants us to stick our necks out, that's one thing, but I'm not dragging anyone else we know into this. What do you think I am?"

You don't want to know, mate. Tonks would have been inclined to argue the point, but a very slight pressure on her arm from Cassius dissuaded her, and she muttered a few conventional words of goodbye and followed him out.

*****

"So why didn't you press him for the source of his information then?"

They were back at Auror HQ; Cassius having shushed all her attempts to ask questions while they were still in Worthing, saying that he didn't want to risk being overheard. Tonks admitted privately that he had a point, but it was nonetheless highly frustrating.

"Because it's fairly obvious how he knew, isn't it?" he replied patiently. Tonks shook her head.

"Not to me, mate."

Cassius smiled. "Think about it. He knew we were Aurors, and he knew you were a Metamorphmagus -- or at any rate he knew what you could do as one. Then remember his comment about being embarrassed in front of the neighbours. How many of them had those two pieces of information?"

Tonks looked at him in confusion for a moment until it dawned on her. "Oh hell. The Hallendales, you mean?"

"Has to be, doesn't it? There can't be that many wizarding families in a place like Worthing -- I'd say half a dozen in the entire area, as an absolute maximum, given the size of that Floo station. The Ministry must have spared every expense when they bought that." He chuckled. "They'd be bound to know each other and gossip when they met. I wouldn't be surprised if he met her there on his way back. He looks like the sort who would always talk to an attractive woman on first principles."

Tonks raised her eyebrows. "So you did fancy her then!" she quipped. This got a scowl from her partner.

"We ought to check, of course," he continued, ignoring her remark. "And we haven't got too much time before you have to meet our bescarved friend again on Monday. Perhaps we could call on the Hallendales tomorrow? I know it's your day off and everything," he added apologetically, "but odd hours come with the job, I'm afraid."

"I'm not sure, mate," said Tonks regretfully. "I've got that World Cup security training thing to go to in the afternoon? I suppose I could tell Rhiannon that I might be late ..."

"Oh? No, never mind, you don't want to miss that. If anything goes wrong at the Final, we'll never hear the last of it from the Prophet. I'll just call round there by myself."

"Oh, so you do want to see her again then." She smirked at him.

He crimsoned. "Stop it, Tonks! I ... I don't mind working weekends, all right? I haven't got anything better to do, and I'd just as soon not be moping around the house. I'll let you know if I find out anything important." A smirk of his own spread slowly across his face. "Like maybe what her son thinks of you? What was it she said, something like 'quite taken with you now you're all grown up'?" He laughed as Tonks crimsoned in turn. "You fancied him then?"

"Not particularly," said Tonks, recovering. "He was OK to look at, but he seemed a bit, oh I don't know, strait-laced? Anyway, I'm not in any particular rush at the moment."

"Love life on hold then?"

"Non-existent for the last few months, mate. First I was too busy with finals, then I started this job. Let's say ... willing to listen to suggestions, but I'm making no promises." She shrugged. "We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?"

"I've got a suggestion ..." came Williamson's amused voice, calling from the other side of the partition. Tonks groaned.

"So have I, Ben. Sod off," she called back. "I'll see you later, Cassius -- I'm going to practice being Mrs Easton again. After all, if I don't get it right we'll never hear the last of it from Bobby, will we?"


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13. Getting To Know You

Saturday August 15th 1994

The Ministry foyer was more or less deserted the following afternoon when Tonks Apparated in shortly after lunch. One or two weekend workers were making their way to the lifts, presumably heading for their offices, but otherwise the place was quieter than Tonks had ever seen it at the time of day.

A quick glance at her watch told her that she was early, and she took the time to have a real look around. When the main hall was crowded, as it usually was, it wasn't easy to properly appreciate the décor, but today she found herself marvelling at the ever-changing golden runes on the ceiling, the intricate likenesses of the Fountain of Magical Brethren, and the play of light on polished wood and gilded fireplace from the soft glow of the Floo fires. A small party of official-looking visitors passed through, escorted by a smartly-dressed witch; they all seemed highly impressed, pointing to the sights and chattering to each other in Slavic accents.

A bored-looking security wizard carefully scrutinised her identification and registered her wand, apparently merely in order to give himself something to do.

"Auror, eh?" he said, clearly trying not to seem impressed. "Bit young for it, aren't you?"

"Sorry. I daresay I'll get older eventually, though?" Tonks kept her face as straight as possible while saying this, and resisted the temptation to age her appearance by fifty years by morphing. It seemed likely to result merely in far too many tedious questions of the kind everybody seemed to ask when they found out what she could do.

"Oh yeah, I suppose you will." He grinned at her, seemingly pleased to have found something to break the monotony. "In on the weekend on a case, then?"

"Nah, just a practice session for the World Cup security," said Tonks. "Are you in on that?"

"I got tickets, love," he said smugly. "Not the best in the house, mind, but I got them, and I don't have to work while I'm there."

"You don't seem to be working much while you're here," joked Tonks. "What do you do when it gets busy? You don't check everyone in, do you?"

"Well, I only really have to do the ones who come in the visitors' entrance," he confessed. "There's a bell which sounds when the lift's on the way down. Normally I just watch what's happening on the map in the control room." He jerked a thumb in the general direction of a door discreetly set in the wall behind him.

"Map?" said Tonks curiously.

"Yeah, wanna take a look?" He brightened at the prospect of doing something different. "I'm not normally supposed to take people in there, but you being an Auror an' all ..."

Tonks looked around; there was no sign of any of her team. "Go on then."

She followed him into the small room behind the door and gazed around with interest. The walls were devoted to a number of large sheets of parchment on which maps of the building were drawn. They seemed to be slightly fuzzy, and it wasn't until she looked more closely that she noticed that there were little marked dots moving around on them.

"Hey, that's me!" she said, pointing to a dot marked Nymphadora Tonks. She rather wished it didn't show her full name. And you're -- Eric Stubbs, yeah?"

"That's me. Anyone in the building shows up on the map -- well, mostly, anyway. We've got practically the whole Ministry here. Bit useful, innit?"

"I'll say. I've never heard of anything like these before." Tonks followed the dots around with fascination. Auror HQ and its surrounding rooms seemed fairly empty -- she could see Williamson and Benny Goldstein and that irritating bugger Shacklebolt, but no-one else she knew especially well. She spotted Ludo Bagman up in his office, accompanied by a number of people with unpronounceable names, possibly the ones she'd seen pass through. Presumably all the World Cup organisers were having to work weekends this close to the event, because Barty Crouch was in the building too, with his assistant Weasley -- hang on, I thought he called him Weatherby at the meeting? Oh well, I guess I must have remembered his name wrong.

Something Eric had said nagged at her for a moment until she got it. "Did you say this doesn't show the whole Ministry?" she asked, and when he nodded, continued "Why not?"

Eric Stubbs grinned. "Well, old Fudgie didn't like the idea of being spied on, did he? Insisted on being left off when that K bloke down in the bowels of the building made 'em up. A few others felt the same. Mind you, our Quentin was one of 'em. He 'conveniently' left off the lower floors and told Fudge it was to keep the Department of Mysteries -- well, mysterious. Couldn't argue with that, could he?"

"No, I guess not." Tonks mentally filed away this piece of information. You never know, might be useful to know someday. She glanced idly at the section showing the foyer and noticed a new dot suddenly appear out of nowhere, which, when she looked more closely, was labelled Rhiannon Davies. "Hey, that's my cue, Eric," she said, casting a last regretful look around at the maps. "Thanks for showing me around."

"Any time, love," he said. "Beats trying to do the Daily Prophet crossword, anyway. Can't even get the 'easy' clues half the time ..."

*****

Rhiannon Davies was looking slightly anxious when Tonks joined her. "I really hope this works out ..." she murmured, but didn't have time to expand upon the point as the other two members of her team appeared at the far end of the hall. Tonks waved in their direction and they strolled over to meet them, looking at Rhiannon inquiringly.

"Right then, Mr Thompson, Mr Poppleford," she said bracingly. "Look, can we all just call each other by our first names? I'm Rhiannon, this is Nym ... er, OK, maybe not all of us then; this is Tonks." The two men looked surprised, then comprehension dawned on Thompson's face. "Oh, right. Not keen on the name 'Nymphadora'?"

"Not much," said Tonks, with a fixed sort of grin.

He chuckled. "Fair enough. I'll save it in case I ever want to tease you then. I don't know about Mr Poppleford here, but you can call me Chesney, or Ches if you like."

"Will's fine by me," said Poppleford with a shrug.

"Ah, good." Rhiannon shuffled her feet a bit; Tonks had a growing suspicion that she really hadn't planned this out properly. "Right, er, Ches, Will, I think we'd better decide how we're going to split the duties, and then go over the plans for the day? I ought to see how good you chaps are with your wands." Chesney Thompson bit his lip, obviously struggling hard to keep a straight face; Rhiannon scowled in embarrassed realisation, but ploughed on regardless. "If we do have any trouble we need to know how well you can cope with it. Anyway, er, yes, OK. Let's not hang around here, then. We'll sort something out up in Auror headquarters."

"Auror HQ, eh?" Thompson said to them with interest as they rode up to the second floor in the lift. "I don't think I've ever been in there. You won't have to hide any super-secret stuff then?"

Tonks snorted. "Yeah, right, we'll have to keep you away from the daily bulletins. They're our secret weapon. We threaten to give them to suspects and bore them to death." Rhiannon looked at her with a sudden frown as she said this, as if she'd only just realised that security might actually be a problem. Tonks lost her grin as it dawned on her too that there probably were a lot of things lying around on desks that weren't supposed to be seen by outsiders, not even other Ministry employees.

"Maybe we should find somewhere with a bit of space if we're going to practice anything?" she said brightly, attempting to recover her slip. Thinking of their first meeting with Thompson and Poppleford reminded her of one possible venue, which had looked more or less empty on the map. "Tell you what, the combat training hall should have plenty of free space today? I don't remember it ever gets used much at weekends, except for a few people tuning up their advanced spellwork."

"Combat training?" asked Thompson with interest, glancing at the other man. "I could do with some of that. We spend most of our time developing new stuff, not going over things we know. Well, that and trying to work out how to stop people growing horns as a side-effect."

Tonks glanced at the other wizard, who shrugged again. "All of us in RCMC have to train in basic combat spells, in case we need to deal with anything dangerous. I'm probably rusty, though. Last six months, I've been stuck behind a desk in the Goblin Liaison Office, trying to keep the little buggers sweet."

"Combat hall it is then," said Rhiannon with a quick smile at Tonks. She led them down the corridor and into the wide open space of the hall. Their luck was in; apart from a couple of wizards practicing in one corner, apparently working on trying to cast Stunners accurately without looking directly at the target, the room was empty.

"OK," said Thompson, rubbing his hands. "Where do we start?"

Tonks and Rhiannon exchanged glances, and Tonks got an evil gleam in her eye as she remembered her own basic training. "Let's just do a quick test run to see how you shape up, shall we?" she said. "We won't do anything out of the ordinary -- just Stunners, shield charms and the like. You can do ... well, anything you like, really, short of Dark Magic."

Rhiannon caught her mood. "Will, you're with me," she said innocently. "Ches, you and Tonks step over that way a bit, give yourselves a bit of room to manoeuvre, that's right. On a count of three then: one, two, three!"

Tonks was already casting a silent Shield Charm as Chesney Thompson brought his wand to bear. She'd never quite got the hang of casting hexes without at least muttering the incantation, but she was quite proud of her spell blocks. He cried "Lingua Nodare!" -- an interesting choice -- but the spell just bounced straight back at him, and he hastily dodged out of the way. Tonks' return-spell of Stupefy was also dodged -- she had to admit that she was quite impressed by his agility -- but a Stunner of his own was easily deflected away.

Out of the corner of her eye, Tonks saw that Rhiannon had already disarmed Will Poppleford, who clearly hadn't been wrong when he described his technique as rusty. She mentally kicked herself for allowing herself to be distracted as Chesney shouted Abigo! at her. She still managed to block most of the effects, which prevented her from being thrown across the room, but it knocked her slightly off balance; and she had to duck and block a couple of spells before forcing him back onto the defensive with an Impediment Jinx. He got enough deflection on it to prevent it taking full effect, but it did trip him up; and with a mental sigh of relief -- good, it would be highly embarrassing to lose this by not paying attention -- she closed in for the kill. She could hear Rhiannon and Will laughing in the background.

"Gravitari praepostere!" He waved his wand with a slightly desperate air, and a peculiar-looking golden mist erupted from it. Caught slightly by surprise, Tonks attempted another block, but some of the mist leaked around her shield and touched her arms. With a dizzying sensation, she felt the world seem to invert itself. Almost by instinct, rather than on any particular calculation, she crouched down on the ceiling -- no, the floor, what the ...? -- in order to duck whatever the next spell heading her way was, then Apparated away with a twitch before she had to deal with another one.

Chesney didn't seem to have anticipated this manoeuvre, and mercifully, as he turned wildly this way and that to look for her, it gave her a chance to quickly get to her feet and allow her head to stop spinning. As he spotted her, she pointed her wand at him and spat out the incantations for a rapid-fire series of Stunners -- no more messing about, Ches -- and this simple tactic proved effective. He ducked a couple, and blocked one, but the fourth hit him squarely in the chest and sent him crashing to the floor, out cold.

Tonks approached him, breathing a silent sigh of relief. She picked up his wand, then pointed her own at him. "Enervate," she said casually, as if she'd never once had an awkward moment during the fight. She was uneasily aware that she actually felt extremely annoyed with herself for going easy at first and giving him a chance.

Chesney blinked a couple of times and looked up at her with a rueful expression.

"Too fast for me," he said, clambering to his feet gingerly and taking his wand from Tonks' outstretched hand. "Did my best, though. Hope we don't have to take on anyone as well trained as you two! I thought I might get you with something unusual, but I guess you learn how to cope with all that quite easily?"

"Yeah, they always told us in training to keep it simple most of the time," replied Tonks, making very sure that her face didn't give anything away. She glanced at Rhiannon. "What was the theory, again?"

"Er -- you should be able to tell these gentlemen, Tonks," she said with slight alarm in her eyes. "You can't have forgotten your training this quickly?"

Cheers, Leader. "The basic idea is that the ... well, basics give you fallback techniques for coping with anything," she told him, racking her brains to remember the way Dawlish had phrased it. "You can't always tell what someone is going to cast at you, so you don't want to be wasting time thinking about the proper counter. Just get out of the way -- Apparate if necessary -- or put up a Shield Charm. That will block most incoming spells, at least partially, and the better you are at casting it, the more effective it is."

She realised that she was reciting, and slowed her voice down a bit: "Concentrate on a few offensive spells you know well to maximise your casting speed and power. They still have to be defended against. I was practically gabbling Stupefy at you back there, because most of the effort and focus was mental. Reserve complex spellwork for mixing things up a bit to keep your opponent guessing -- all right, I think you've probably already grasped that part -- or for when you need to achieve some specific effect." Like conjuring a physical shield if someone casts the Killing Curse at you, she thought to herself, but didn't mention it. No point in alarming them.

"Ah," said Chesney with chagrin. "That makes sense. No fancy moves, then?"

"Not until you're a real expert. I mean, I've never seen that spell you cast before, but the basic stuff they drilled into us in training gave me a way to defend against it, even if there is a specific counter-spell somewhere as well." If you actually become a real expert, you can pretty much do what you like, though, she added mentally, because the complex stuff will come just as naturally to you as anything else. Dawlish had demonstrated some really neat uses of Transfiguration for combat purposes, although most of the class hadn't been able to use them half as successfully as he had.

She looked at him, curiosity fighting against a desire to project superiority. Curiosity won. "OK, Ches, I can understand the idea behind a tongue-tying jinx, at least, and Banishing was fine too, that's a good basic spell that works well in combat" -- she looked at him appraisingly -- "but what the hell was that mist thing?"

Chesney s******ed. "Oh that. Just a little something we Experimental Charmers have been working on. The Committee were asked if they could develop it for use later this year. Couldn't resist trying it. To be honest, I've never actually cast the spell myself before. Did it work?" he asked eagerly.

"I don't know. Was it meant to turn everything upside down?"

"Yes!" He pumped his fist, then looked slightly embarrassed as he realised what he was doing. "I mean, yes, that was the general idea."

"Cool." Tonks turned and looked at Rhiannon pointedly; er, who's supposed to be running this session, Rhi? She caught the hint and said hastily, "Right, well, suppose we spend a bit of time going over your Shield Charms and basic hexes, then? You never know, you might need to break up a fight if the Irish and Bulgarians get drunk and have at go at each other. Come to think of it, a bit of practice in Finite Incantatem might not go amiss as well."

The next couple of hours were spent enjoyably in trying to bring their team up to speed. Chesney turned out to be quite useful, and even managed to successfully Stun or disarm each of the Aurors once. Will Poppleford was unquestionably out of condition; but by the end of the session, his training was clearly starting to come back to him, and he wasn't as easy a mark as he'd been the first time they'd tried.

"Right, team," called Rhiannon eventually, exhausted but pleased. "That'll do for today. A bit more practice over the next week would come in handy for both of you fellows, but you'll do fine, I think. Send me a memo if you'd like me to book the Hall for you." She looked around. "Ches, have you really not done any duelling before?"

He grinned. "Honest? I used to belong to a club when I was younger, but I let it slip. Never seem to find the spare time now."

She took a deep breath. "Oh, I see. Right, just a few notices before I forget. We're supposed to patrol in pairs when we get there -- based on today, I think we'll go for you and me, Will, and Tonks and Chesney? We're on first rota inside the stadium, so with a bit of luck we'll get to see the whole of the match -- er, that's when we're not keeping an eye on the crowd, of course."

She moved on hastily as the others grinned at her. "The Ministry will be providing accommodation starting from the weekend before the match -- so no problem for us if it goes on a long time. There'll be an area set aside for tents for the security staff; I've had a look at them already, and they'll do fine. Not luxurious, but they've got beds, a kitchen and a bathroom, all we'll really need for a few days camping out. Tonks, I'll share with you, obviously; er, you're OK to tell these two what to do if I need to disappear from time to time? Check orders and stuff?"

"Yeah, no problem, Rhi," said Tonks. Stuff like visiting Donnacha in the posh tent that came with his ticket package, maybe? she thought, but she didn't say it in front of the others. Solidarity and all that.

"Great. Right, I think we deserve a drink after all that," said Rhiannon with relief. "Any suggestions for a venue?"

*****

"You know, Chesh ... Ches, I'm not entirely sh ... sure this is a good idea?"

"Oh, don't be such a wuss, Nymphadora! Last one to Hogsmeade buys the next round!"

Tonks couldn't quite remember when the concept of turning the evening into a Round Britain Pub Crawl had cropped up. She was having a little trouble with her memory at this point, not to mention her sense of balance (always precarious at the best of times). She was pretty sure it couldn't have been earlier than the fourth round of drinks, though.

It didn't help that they were touring the country's wizard-aware pubs via the Floo network, which always had a tendency to exacerbate any incipient queasiness felt by the traveller. Chesney's suggestion that the Aurors use their Portkey-creation privileges had met with short shrift from Rhiannon, who had also firmly squashed the idea of Apparation, after their first movement from the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley to a small pub on the outskirts of Oxford had resulted in a twenty minute delay while they found each other again. Tonks had clinched the matter by remarking that in any case, she didn't want to end up leaving half her internal organs behind in a drunken Disapparation, nor clean up after anyone else who did.

Their grand tour had taken in Cardiff (at Rhiannon's insistence), Birmingham's Magical Market, a complete dive in Doncaster that Poppleford remembered from his younger days, and a small well-hidden village pub outside Ripon that had seemed relieved to get rid of them. Tonks vaguely recalled getting out at the wrong grate at couple of times, so there could well have been others.

Hogsmeade had seemed like the natural choice to round off the evening, but meant the longest and most stomach-churning trip yet. Still, Tonks bristled at Chesney's challenge, threw yet another handful of powder into a fire, and somehow managed to emerge upright in the fireplace of the Three Broomsticks. It didn't last long, as Will Poppleford appeared immediately afterwards and sent her flying, but it was better than she had any right ro expect in her current condition.

Chesney Thompson and the two Aurors found themselves a table as Poppleford weaved towards the bar to place an order. For a moment, Tonks couldn't quite work out who the hairy man waving at them from one corner in cheery recognition was, until the fact that he was about five feet taller than anyone else in the pub registered with her. She winced; if she'd managed to overlook the Hogwarts gamekeeper, she really must have had too much to drink.

Chesney looked over at him blearily and gave him an uncertain wave in return. "Isn't that ... er, whatshisname? Haggard, from up at the school?"

"Must be," said Tonks, firmly ordering herself to get a grip on things despite the trouble was having trying to focus. "Who else is that size?"

"A troll, maybe?" said Rhiannon with a giggle. "Hey, did you hear the one about the troll, the hag, and the leprechaun who all go into a bar ..."

"Drinks!" interrupted Chesney, as Poppleford staggered to a halt at the table bearing a tray. Tonks reached out to collect hers, and realised dimly that the glasses and their contents must have been charmed to stay in place. Surely there was no way that he could be carrying them upside-down like that otherwise?

"Did I hear you mention that giant bloke?" said Poppleford thickly. "Saw him last year, came up to the office with a vicious Hippogriff. Well, hard to miss, isn't he?"

The others laughed. It wasn't really a particularly great joke, but after the tenth round such things always seem a lot funnier. "Yeah, pretty much," said Chesney. "Sort of thing he'd like, didn't he have a ... have a fixture ... a thing about monsters?"

Will Poppleford snorted. "Heard he asked if he could get" -- he paused to say the next word very slowly and carefully -- "chimaera eggs at one point. I should coco. Nobody in their right mind wants a ... one of those things. Not even Nathan bloody Arkwright far as I know. Though I wouldn't be supissed ... surprised. He was never right in the head neither."

"Nathan who?" said Tonks. She was sure she knew the name, but couldn't remember from where. Another few of these, I won't remember my own name, she thought hazily.

"Cartwright. No, Arkwright. Er, I think. Sorry. One or the other. Had a private zoo, you see. Got his fingers burnt."

"You busted him, you mean?" asked Chesney.

Will giggled. "Nah. His pet busted out. Dragon. Put it in this rubbish cage, it melted the bars and got loose. Nearly ate him. Good riddance. Silly sod."

"You did charge him though?" said Rhiannon. Her face had a puzzled expression, as if she could almost remember something important, but not quite.

"Yeah, we charged him." He grinned vacantly. "Beaut of a case that, Depar ... dep ... er, legend where I work. Boys went round to look, scared the **** out of them. Bloody great monsters, shoddy little cages, bunny rabbit could have bitten through them I reckon. Swore the bloke who sold 'em said they were top-rated stuff, he did. Swore at our blokes a lot too, when we carted his pets off. Swore he'd get back at everybody who'd crossed him as well. Never did though. All mouth and no wand. Daft sod."

Rhiannon exchanged a bleary glance with Tonks, who dimly understood it to mean that all this had come up in her case somewhere, and that Poppleford had just said something that might potentially be interesting to her. She sighed, pulled out her wand, and pointed it unsteadily at her head: "Nil temulentum." It helped a little - but only a little. The major problem with the Sobriety Spell was that casting it effectively required that you be sober enough to concentrate on what you were doing, which rather defeated the object.

She closed her eyes for a moment to think, then came to with a start a few seconds later, realising that she must have nodded off for a second or two. She grabbed a napkin and quill and tried to focus long enough to write down what Will had just said, but the details were already slipping through her mind, as if she were trying to carry water in her hands.

Oh sod it. She glanced at the clock on the wall; Only half past ten? Not too late. With a bit of luck, he should still be up. She surreptitiously slid round on the chair and pulled out her mirror phone, murmuring into it "Cassius Scrimgeour". To her considerable relief, after a few seconds the mirror opened out to show Cassius, whose eyebrows shot up as he saw who it was.

"Tonks?" he said uncertainly.

"Listen mate," she said rapidly. "I'm almost out of it, don't know if I'll remember this tomorrow. Make a note to look up that Arkwright bloke, yeah? The zoo one? Just heard some gossip. Sounds like he made some" -- she took a deep breath and finished carefully -- "some threats towards old Ashface or whatever his name was. Make a note, yeah?"

"Oh, all right." He looked at her with amusement. "Good evening, then?"

"Terrific. See you, mate." She pushed the off button, and pressed her fingers to her temples for a moment, swaying slightly.

"Rosmerta my love! Same again over here, please!" As Chesney's voice called out for another round, Tonks groaned and let her head sink into her hands; then with a sigh, decided to simply abandon the idea of trying to do any real investigative work tonight.

It just so wasn't going to happen.


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14. Have A Drink On Me

Monday August 17th 1994

Going into work on Monday morning was actually a relief for Tonks after a quiet Sunday, the first part of which had been spent fighting down nausea and avoiding bright lights. She'd also avoided her mirror, which tended to make tut-tutting remarks like "look at the state of you!" on these occasions. On the other hand, she supposed, she ought to be pleased to have somehow managed to make it back to her own flat. (That had been easier said than done; she had a confused recollection of dropping off a semi-conscious Rhiannon at a highly amused O'Gregan's house.)

Kingsley Shacklebolt was leaving the office as she came in, and nodded to her with a slight smile as he passed by. She strolled over towards her desk and then stopped dead, looking back over her shoulder: hang on, what was that about? Since when did he acknowledge me politely? She gazed after him warily; she wasn't sure if Shacklebolt smiling at her was actually a good or a bad sign. With any luck it was the former. Maybe Cassius has had a word with him?

The partner in question arrived shortly afterwards and Tonks gave him an embarrassed little smile. "Er, hi, mate," she said tentatively. "About Saturday night, I'm not quite sure what I said when I rang, but, ..."

"I rather gathered that," he replied amiably. "Where were you calling from?"

"Er, ..." That was a good question. "Must have been ... the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade? Please don't ask me how we got up there. I'm a bit hazy about anything that happened by that point."

"I won't," he said, inspecting her carefully. He continued in a worried voice. "But you know, if you were in a public place like that, you shouldn't have been shouting confidential information over the mirrors to me where anyone could have heard."

She gaped at him. "W -- what did I say?"

He gave her a very serious look. "Well, you weren't especially complimentary about our esteemed leader Mr Claymore, I think the phrase you used was something like 'officious old git with a face like a Hippogriff's backside'. And you really shouldn't have been discussing what you heard at the Toad in public. Even if the chap in question wasn't likely to be there, a friend of his might have been. And you said something about what was under Montgomery Hallendale's robes that frankly, I don't like to repeat."

Tonks paled and made an odd squeaky noise. "But ... I ... I only rung you for a minute? I don't remember saying all that!"

His eyebrows rose. "You don't remember ringing me back later either, then?"

"I did?"

"Around quarter to midnight. I think it was just about throwing-out time. It certainly sounded as if there were a lot of people about." He looked at her sternly. "You mean to say you don't remember anything about this?"

"No." Tonks buried her head in her hands on her desk, and whimpered in something close to panic. "Oh, Merlin. How could I have been so stupid? I don't believe I did that."

His mouth twitched. "Well, that's good, because of course I was making it all up."

She froze, then looked up at a grinning Cassius. "You were WHAT?"

"Got you," he said sitting back in his chair and chuckling merrily. "Hook, line, and sinker. You're not the only one round here who can tell the tale, you know ..."

"You git." She looked at him for a moment, then caught his mood and started to laugh too. "You complete git. Did I ever tell you you're an evil, lying, no-good toe-rag who shouldn't be allowed to talk to poor innocent young Aurors?"

"I am? Thank you."

She shook her head and looked at him in wonderment. "OK, mate, you really got me there. How did you manage to keep such a straight face?"

"It's much easier to tease people when they don't see it coming. Serves you right for being out of your tree." He said this deadpan, and then they both started to giggle helplessly.

"Such hilarity in the office, now?" said someone from behind them in an Irish accent. "I suppose you're recovered then? You were really in the numbs Saturday night. Leading my young lady into bad habits, so you were."

Tonks swallowed the last giggle and turned. "Hi, Don. Hi, Arnie. And I didn't! She started it."

"Now, that's mature of you." O'Gregan grabbed a couple of chairs from nearby cubicles for himself and Cornworthy. "Right then, Cassius here tells me you may have some suspects for us? We're all ears."

Cassius briefly outlined what they'd discovered about the Blackstocks, and handed out duplicated copies of the information that he'd prepared. The other Aurors glanced at each other, but forbore to comment immediately.

"Most interesting, Cassius old mate," said O'Gregan with a whistle when he'd finished. "So our young honey is real then? And her daddy's on Ellie's little list? Do we have any idea what she might have been doing so far from base that night? Does she go to the Toad often?"

Tonks glanced through the sheets of parchment for the section concerning Portia Blackstock. The immediately obvious problem was that there just wasn't very much information about her on file. As far as the records went, she was simply a girl from a wealthy family who spent most of her time on the wizarding social circuit, no more and no less. There were certainly no reported sightings of her in dodgy London pubs.

She cursed and threw the sheets on to her desk. "Not according to this. Doesn't the wretched girl do anything but go to parties and give herself beauty treatments?"

Cornworthy looked up with amusement. "Well, you can't deny they seem to work, Tonks."

"Yeah, but what a boring life!" Seeing the raised eyebrows of the others, she blushed and amplified her comment. "I mean, come on, I love a good time -- er, obviously -- but I want to do other things with my life as well! This job, for a start."

Cassius held up his hands. "No argument from me. Just a moment," he said, looking at his notes again, "she's only a couple of years younger than you are. Do you remember her from school?"

Tonks shrugged. "Don't think so. You don't really pay much attention to younger students at that age, do you? Not even the ones in your own house, most of the time."

"I did," said Cassius. "Different era, though. And I suppose as a prefect I had to. You can't remember anything about her?"

Tonks closed her eyes in order to examine her memories. "Not that I'm sure of," she said eventually, with some hesitation. "I can remember during my final year there was this group of kids we all joked about. They'd have been about her age. Used to doll themselves up, sit in the courtyard, and make eyes at the older boys as they went by." She s******ed. "Don't know if it ever got them more than laughed at, mind you. Bow I think about it, though, one of them was a blonde girl who might have been her. If it is, she's definitely ... um, filled out since then. I can't remember seeing her at the Chess Club or the Potions Guild or anything. She doesn't sound like the type, really, does she? And she can't have been a troublemaker then or people would have known her by reputation."

"Well, anyway," said O'Gregan impatiently, "does it matter if she was a good girl when she was at school? Looks like she isn't now. Why don't we just bring her in and give her the treatment?"

Cassius coughed. "Did you read the bit about her father, Donnacha?"

"No. What about him?"

Cassius tapped the parchment to indicate where he should look. "It seems that he's been putting the contents of the family vault to good use to make friends and influence people," he explained. "He donates generously, and arranges a lot of special events -- it turns out he's actually on the committee of the charity where I saw them at the dinner now. According to this, he's on first-name terms with several members of the Wizengamot, and he even managed to persuade Minister Fudge to be the guest of honour at one of his dinners."

Sounds like some other people I know, thought Tonks, but she kept it to herself. She didn't want her colleagues to think she had a bee in her bonnet about her relatives. Especially as she did.

O'Gregan looked at him with disgust. "Are you saying we can't go near them because the bloody Wizened Lot wouldn't like it?"

He shrugged. "No, but I would say we need to be cautious. I don't like it any more than you do, Donnacha, but it's always been a fact of life around here, hasn't it? We simply have to tread carefully with anybody who has friends in high places. If we bring them in and work them over and then can't get anything out of them immediately, we could have the investigation snuffed out before you can say Nox. And we certainly can't hope to get a warrant for coercive methods without something concrete."

"An eyewitness?" said Tonks. "How much more concrete can you get?"

Cassius smiled sadly. "Those Muggle movies you watched with your father must have confused you, Tonks. Even they recognise that identification evidence is often unreliable -- and let's face it, in our world, it's not conclusive by itself given the various ways it can be faked. At least, that's the official legal view of things." Tonks resolved once again to look up her wizarding law textbooks. "Of course in practice it's solid evidence most of the time, but we need something more in this case. A motive, for example, or at least a connection. Oh yes, and our eyewitness was not only under Veritaserum when he told us about it, but claiming mind control as a defence," he said as an afterthought. "That adds another couple of layers of potential challenge, unfortunately."

"But what if she tries again?" said O'Gregan irritably. "We can't just let her keep taking pot-shots at Ashford until she gets lucky, can we?"

"Actually, Don, ..." put in Cornworthy deprecatingly, "it probably isn't that urgent. Ashford has been very careful since it happened, hasn't he?"

"Well yes, he's not stupid," snorted O'Gregan. He mostly works from home now, and he's hired a couple of bodyguards -- good fellows, ex-Law Enforcement Patrol -- and he definitely doesn't go strolling over the Common late at night."

"And that was quite an elaborate scheme to come up with," pressed Cornworthy. "Must have taken a while to set up. I wouldn't bet on them having worked out a Plan B yet."

"I suppose so," he said, slightly mollified.

"And if she's got any sense she won't be trying again for a while, will she?" pointed out Tonks. "She must know that we've got a witness, and that she's bound to be under suspicion sooner or later. OK, we don't know what she had against him, but the way this was set up it doesn't look like she -- oh, all right Cassius, whoever -- was willing to take a lot of risks."

"I dunno, Tonks," said the Irishman. "That's been worrying me. Suppose it was her and not some impersonator. She was only OK as long as she wasn't seen with Farley. That's a big risk. I suppose she may have been betting on them not knowing her at the Toad, and not wanting to tell us if they did ..."

"Yeah, but if she's smart enough to plan all this," persisted Tonks, "she must have realised that even if she was spotted with him, her family connections would keep the heat off her long enough to hide any other evidence there might be -- you know, something like find who sold her the potion and Obliviate them, if she hasn't done that already?"

Seeing that her colleague looked unconvinced, she continued thinking out loud: "There was a whole day between the time she was seen with Farley and the attack, right? It must have been timed to happen towards the end of the effect span of the potion. So there was only a narrow window where she'd be taking a risk -- after Farley came out of it, she would have been perfectly safe, because he wouldn't remember what happened, couldn't prove he'd been under the influence of Jacmel even if we worked it out, and he's not a particularly credible witness anyway. And we still don't know the connection between her and Ashford, and I'll bet it's not obvious. There's a lot of things to link up before we can ever pin anything on her, yeah?"

O'Gregan spread his hands. "All right, all right. We're just guessing here. We need more information. Like Cassius said, we don't have a motive either."

"Who's your other possible?" asked Cornworthy.

"Eh? Oh, that Arkwright bloke, but sorry, Arnie, I haven't had time to go into that," said Tonks apologetically.

"Actually ..." put in Cassius with a pleased look, as the others turned to him, "I took your hint from Saturday night and had a word with a friend of mine in the Magical Creatures department. Apparently the case is common gossip over there. When Arkwright lost that zoo of his, he certainly swore vengeance on the people he felt were responsible for it. They just never took him seriously enough to put it in the records."

"Idiots," said O'Gregan with a snort. "Do you mean he thought Ashford was at fault?"

"Well, he sold him the cages, and by the sound of it, he must have told him they were better than they were. They weren't nearly as strong as they needed to be for the kind of things Arkwright was trying to keep in them. Most of them were starting to come unstuck, and apparently, given another month or two, we could have had a major problem on our hands. The way he described it was 'would have made the Ilfracombe Incident look like a case of failing to dock a Crup's tail'."

Tonks winced. "Serves him right then."

"You're correct, of course, but he didn't see it that way. He looked on it as those nasty Ministry people taking his 'pets' away. My friend said they looked on it as preventing a few dozen people being eaten, and a cataclysmic breach of the Statute of Secrecy. He was lucky to stay out of Azkaban -- connections again, Donnacha, I'm afraid."

"Bah."

"Exactly. Anyway, you can imagine he would have a grudge against Ashford."

"Were those connections the same ones as Blackstock?" asked Cornworthy shrewdly. "Mutual friends?"

Cassius looked taken aback. "I hadn't thought to ask," he said. "We'll have to inquire."

"Right, Cassius," said O'Gregan firmly. "What are we going to do? Anything? I've got a week off as from Saturday for the World Cup, remember, so we need to get something going before then."

"So have I," pointed out Tonks. "Well, OK, technically I'm on secondment to the security team, but I'm away from the office for a while."

"Me too," added Cassius. He added, in response to their surprised looks, "You're not the only one who's got tickets for the Final, you know."

They all looked at Cornworthy, who looked back dolefully. "Well, I haven't, so it's down to me to keep the cauldron boiling, I suppose," he said. "Perhaps we should just arrange to have them shadowed, see if they go anywhere we wouldn't expect? There must be a few spare Law Enforcement people we can call on to help out."

"That'll do for the time being," agreed O'Gregan. "Arkwright doesn't go out much any more, and I imagine the Blackstocks will be going to the Final themselves, you'd think, if they're so keen to make a good social impression?" He looked at the others for confirmation.

"Deal," said Tonks, and Cassius nodded. O'Gregan clapped his hands.

"Well, that's settled then. We'll sort it out and let you know what's happening. Anyway, if it pans out for young Tonks here tonight, we may learn a lot from that. Do you think the fellow is going to tell us anything?"

They turned to Tonks, who shrugged. "I don't know. Even if he is selling the stuff, I don't suppose people tell him what they want to do with it -- well, apart from Beatrice Easton, that is, but I don't really think she's got the makings of a criminal mastermind. In fact, from his point of view, he could just be planning ... oh, maybe making a quick profit by selling her some rubbish, and spinning her a yarn about it being this wonderful mind control potion? She couldn't exactly complain to Magical Trading Standards, could she?"

"No. So we might solve your case tonight and not ours."

Tonks nodded. "Sorry, Don."

"Ah well. It's still our best chance of a quick result. And we can see how he likes being fed mind-affecting potions."

"I don't like the idea of handing over 150 Galleons to him, to be honest, but I suppose if it gets that far we can arrest him straight after and take it back."

O'Gregan chuckled. "Trust in the Emerald Isle, Tonks my dear." At her bemused look, he explained, "They'll give you leprechaun gold for this sort of situation, just in case it gets out of control. Vanishes a few hours later, more's the pity."

"Oh right." She brightened. "Listen, we may need some backup, yeah? Could you two be available if we need you? Link you in to a couple of those panic buttons?"

"No worries," said O'Gregan airily, waving a hand. "I'm sure you can cope, young lady, but we'd be glad to help you out if the boy tries to get rough. One good turn deserves another."

"Great." She turned to Cassius. "Partner -- let's work on our plan."

*****

At quarter to nine that evening Tonks was heading for the Transfigured Toad once more, for what she sincerely hoped might be the last time for a while. She was already changed into Beatrice Easton's appearance and dressed in her clothes. Cassius had gone on ahead; he would be waiting in the pub in case Tonks needed immediate backup. O'Gregan and Cornworthy were off home but could Apparate to her aid at a moment's notice if necessary. There were many things that could potentially go wrong, of course, but they'd brainstormed as many as possible and formulated strategies to deal with them.

Tonks entered the pub, acquired another goblet of the juice concoction from the barman, and took a seat well away from Cassius, who was nursing a Butterbeer (to the scorn of some people at nearby tables). She looked around, as nervous as she'd ever been since she started on the job. The pub was full tonight, and between the dim light and the haze of smoke, it was hard to make faces out. It struck her that this must have been what it was like the night Farley went to the going-away party for -- Wells, wasn't it? -- and got more than he'd bargained for. Looking around, she could see that anonymity could easily be possible here. So there, Don.

She tensed as an unshaven man in baggy robes, who appeared to have had too much to drink already, came and sat down next to her. "Hey, beautiful, haven't seen you in here before," he said with a leer (a remark which confirmed for Tonks that he'd definitely had too much to drink). She drew herself up to her full height, as far as that was possible while sitting, and looked away haughtily, all the while cursing her luck. The last things she wanted at this point were to draw attention to herself, or risk having to behave out of character.

"Ooh, hoity-toity," he said, scowling. "Bit too low class for the Ministry Miss, eh? Me not quite what you had in mind when you came in slumming it?"

"I'm waiting for someone," she said shortly.

"Aren't we all, dear." He chortled at his own joke and breathed stale Firewhiskey fumes over her, making her grit her teeth and bite off a most un-Eastonlike remark. She glanced around the room; fortunately, no-one seemed to be looking their way yet (except a mildly concerned Cassius, watching them out of the corner of his eye). She breathed a silent sigh of relief and wondered idly if she could somehow Stun him without it being obvious. She almost missed the door swinging open, but when she looked up she was actually relieved to see her contact coming in (she'd never expected to think that).

He strolled over to her at a brisk pace and said, in the mocking tone that he routinely seemed to use, "Well, well, picked someone up already, have you? Are you sure you need my help?"

"Yes, quite sure," said Tonks, getting up from the table with haste. His voice sounded slightly different, and she recalled Beatrice Easton mentioning that it seemed to shift every time she met him. Probably a simple accent-alteration charm, of course. He seemed to take care to conceal his true identity. With a bit of luck, we'll find out who you really are tonight, mate, she thought unkindly as she followed him to an alcove. Fortunately, the first one they went to was free; she couldn't help wondering if you could actually book the things if you knew the landlord.

She sat down across from him and studied of the parts of his face not covered by the usual scarf, taking careful note of the bone structure and the shape and colour of the eyes. Inwardly, she shrugged; what she could see of his features wasn't very much, and given the stated weakness of identification evidence, it probably wouldn't have sounded convincing in court; but she felt sure that this was the same man she'd met before, regardless of the voice. Quite apart from her Auror observation training, she'd long had the habit of studying faces very carefully, in order to decide how best to mimic them.

"Well then," he said affably. "I take it we still have a deal?"

"Yes," said Tonks. Remembering to sound nervous -- well, even more nervous than she actually was -- she said carefully, "Er, this ... this potion I'm buying gives complete control of someone, correct?" For the record, mate. Just so I can swear at trial that you knew what you were selling.

"Oh it does, it does," he said with merriment. "But more importantly -- do you have the money?"

"Yes," said Tonks hesitantly. "Can ... can I see it first?"

"Certainly." He reached into his robes and brought out a bottle of a pale yellowish liquid that unquestionably fitted the description of Liquor of Jacmel. "There should be a month's supply there. Now let me see the money."

"OK. Yes. OK." She reached into her handbag slowly, making sure as she did so that her wand was accessible at a moment's notice in case he attempted to just take the money and go. It was up the sleeve of her robes, fixed in place in a holder originally intended for keeping wands concealed while dressed in Muggle clothes (one of the inventions of the Portia Blackstock's grandfather, she'd been amused to note). She lifted out the bag of evanescent "Galleons" and placed it on the table, where it made a satisfactory clink.

"Good." He tipped the fake money onto the table and counted it quickly, stacking the coins in piles. It obviously came to the right total, because he smiled, swept them back into the bag, and looked at her. "All here." He took the bottle and pushed it casually across the table at her. "Go on, take it then. You're paying for it."

There was something about the way he said this that Tonks didn't like, She braced herself and cautiously picked up the bottle.

Nothing happened. With relief, she hid it away in her handbag and prepared to get up and leave. As soon as they were out of the pub, she could arrest him, create a Portkey, and be on the way back to the Ministry for what promised to be quite an enjoyable interrogation. She paused for a moment and looked across the table at him thoughtfully. Actually, it would be nice to get him to talk before they got him back to the holding cells. She got the strong impression that he might well just clam up and force them to wait for a Veritaserum warrant.

"Er, ... thank you," she said tentatively. "I hope I haven't taken your whole supply or anything."

"Oh, don't worry your little head about that," said the wizard mockingly. "I should be restocking soon. Right, then, a little drink to seal the deal, I think!" Ignoring Tonks' yelp of protest, he tapped with his wand on the table and the alcove curtains slid open. The landlord walked over to them with an inquiring look.

"Two glasses of that fine Firewhiskey I managed to, ah, obtain for you, Finley, I think," he said, winking at him. "My treat. This little lady and I have just completed a very satisfactory business arrangement."

"Certainly, sir." His lip curled at this, but he pointed his wand at the bar and Summoned a bottle and a couple of glasses over to them, pouring out generous measures. Tonks looked at this with concern, attempting to gauge her chances of arresting the wizard straight away while they were still in the pub. They didn't look good. She didn't know much about the patrons in tonight, but she was willing to bet that they included several people he knew, who would surely come to his assistance in any confrontation with an Auror. Well, an outnumbered one at any rate.

"I'm sorry, Mr, er ..." she said in a prim and hesitant manner, "but I never drink alcohol." Fortunately, Beatrice Easton didn't, which made this statement rather more believable.

"Oh, just this once won't hurt you will it?" he said amiably. Tonks wasn't so sure. She had seen the bottle opened, but ... she didn't really want to be drinking large Firewhiskies in this place, especially in the character of a woman who would probably be completely wrecked by one.

At this point, an argument broke out across the floor, which Tonks regarded as a welcome interruption. She glanced over to see what it was all about, and quickly realised that it wasn't welcome after all. She could hear the sound carry even from the alcove; things were suddenly starting to go wrong with this evening.

"Well, if it isn't Mr Cassius Scrimgeour," said someone aggressively. "What are you doing in here? Seeing the sights? Slumming it now you're retired?" With the use of that phrase, she recognised the voice as that of her erstwhile companion with the Firewhiskey breath.

"Actually, I'm back in harness, now, young man. Who might you be?" said Cassius equably. She could hear him speak now, as the noise level in the pub had dropped dramatically as people paused their conversations to listen in on the potential confrontation taking place. She took a moment to wonder at the description young man but supposed that to Cassius, he probably was.

"Never you mind, Auror." The man snarled these words at him. The noise level dropped still further as a rather ugly silence developed. The landlord strolled casually over to Cassius' table, but Tonks could see that his hand was gripped tightly around his wand.

"Good evening, gentlemen, do we have a problem here?" he said smoothly.

"You're letting some undesirables into your pub, Finley," said the man viciously. Tonks heard the wizard beside her make a disapproving noise.

"So, Mr ... Scrimgeour, is it? Are you here on official business, then?" asked the landlord. Tonks could see Cassius hesitate for a moment. Of course he was, but there was no way he could admit to it.

"Just dropping by to have a drink and absorb the atmosphere, Mr McAllister," he said calmly. "I'm allowed to do that, I believe?"

The landlord's lip curled again. "Oh, indeed you are," he said. "As it happens, though, I'm allowed to turn out anyone I think might be causing trouble in my pub. Now I'm sure you're perfectly well-meaning, but unfortunately some of my other customers seem to take objection to you. I think you'd better leave now."

Tonks could see Cassius look at him, obviously calculating what his best move would be, and cursed silently. She was sure he would want to remain in the pub, but now attention had been drawn to him he couldn't do much good by staying. "Well, I'm sure I wouldn't wish to cause trouble," he replied in an even tone, getting up from his chair. "I'll take myself off -- but of course, I'll always be around if anyone wishes to talk to me." Tonks, muttering under her breath, read that as an agreed hint that he would attempt to lurk around outside somewhere should she need him when she came out, although at this point she was only listening with half her attention. She had no idea whether anyone would follow him out and try to start something, or what she could do about it if they did.

The wizard in the alcove turned away abruptly from the scene around Cassius to see Tonks holding her glass in her lap, and touching the end of the poison detector on the 'knife' K had given her into the contents. She flushed as he s******ed at her. She put the drink back on the table and glanced at the end of the tester; it hadn't turned red.

"I actually didn't poison that drink, you know," he said with amusement as he caught her eye. "Drink up. You might like what it does, you know."

Tonks hesitated for a moment, then raised the glass to her lips and swallowed the contents, remembering to cough and splutter as if she hadn't done this recently. The wizard opposite did the same -- without the coughing and spluttering, he obviously had done this recently. She looked at him sharply but the scarf didn't move away from his face far enough for her to get a look at it. "Bottoms up," he said. "Well, it was nice meeting you, but I suppose we both have things to do now? After you."

Tonks left the alcove and headed towards the door at an even pace, taking great care for once to avoid tripping over anything, but ready to take action at a moment's notice should there be any trouble. She'd be on her own for a few crucial moments if anybody was planning anything, regardless of panic buttons, as (like most wizarding businesses) the pub had anti-Apparation wards. Fortunately, there wasn't any trouble, and she made it to the door and stepped outside without incident.

She strolled a little way down the street, then staggered slightly, leaning against a wall for support. She shook her head as if to clear it, tapping her forehead a couple of times. She stood there, apparently waiting for something or someone, until an arm took hers and led her away down the street.. She turned and stared at her companion with an unfocused look. It was the wizard she'd just met in the pub.

"Well, now, Mrs Easton -- or Little Miss Clumsy, or whoever it is you really are," he said conversationally, but with an undercurrent of slight threat, "perhaps we should take a little walk? Those little poison testers are quite handy, but they don't react to things that aren't poisons. Like the stuff in that special bottle of Firewhiskey I told Finley to serve if I asked him to. I reckon it should just be starting to work round about ... now. Let's go this way, shall we?"

Tonks shuddered slightly, half-resisted the pull on her arm, but then continued to accompany him docilely as they strolled away down the street. Her eyes as she looked at him were glazed. He laughed at her, quietly but exuberantly, as they walked along Diagon Alley away from the pub.


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15. How Could I Have Been So Stupid?

Monday August 17th 1994

The wizard sauntered along the street insouciantly as Tonks walked beside him. He looked down at her and said casually, "I heard some strange gossip from Finley that a number of people were poking around his place, but funnily enough they all kept tripping over things. Bit suspicious that, I thought. Something to bear in mind."

He laughed in a rather unpleasant way as Tonks looked up at him dully, and continued talking to her in a careless manner as he walked her down the street.

"You fooled me completely when you turned up as that Easton woman. Assuming you aren't her, that is, and I bet you're not. Then you tripped when you left and that started me thinking about it. Then I remembered -- you had seemed a bit more forward. Gave me rather a surprise. I was quite glad I'd made sure I gave myself time to investigate you a little before I sold you any of the good stuff. You really should have worked on your sense of balance before doing this undercover stuff. Bad technique on your part. Got to admit, you're good at disguise though!" He snickered.

They moved slowly along Diagon Alley past the rows of familiar shops, practically all of which were closed at this time on a Monday night. He kept a tight grip on her arm. There were only a few people around, and none of them were paying much attention to a man and a woman looking for all the world as if they were a couple out for an evening stroll

He glanced at her again. "Who are you anyway?"

"My name's ... name is ..." She hesitated.

"Yes?"

"T ... T ... Tonks," she said eventually, in a thick voice.

"Not Easton then." He s******ed. "Didn't think it would be, not after I was told you Flooed straight over to the Ministry after our last meeting instead of going off home like a good little girl. You should have realised someone was following you. Tonks, eh? Isn't that a funny name for a woman?"

"No. Well ... family ... name."

He looked at her appraisingly. "Fighting against it, eh? Don't worry, give it half an hour, you won't be. Effects will have fully kicked in by then. First name?"

"Ny -- no."

"Sorry?"

"N -- no."

"No? You are fighting it, aren't you? Your first name, Miss Tonks. Now."

"Ny -- Ny -- Nymphadora."

He laughed. "That's better. I'd be reluctant to tell people that, too." They were walking past the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron now, towards the quieter parts of the wizarding business area. "So what does Nymphadora Tonks do for a living? Tell me."

Tonks stopped walking for a moment, half-heartedly trying to pull away from his grip on her arm, but then started again as he tugged impatiently at her elbow. She looked at him glassy-eyed, with a horrified expression as if she couldn't quite believe what she was doing.

"Again. What do you do?"

"I'm ... an ... an ... an Auror," she said, in a dazed manner.

He stopped walking for a moment, but caught himself and moved on immediately. "Well, what a surprise. I don't think. I presume that old idiot they threw out the pub was with you?"

"He's not." She had a shifty look as she said this; the wizard looked at her sharply and glanced at his watch.

"Hmm, another few minutes yet." Although most of his face was concealed, his eyes looked gleeful. "You think you can stop this -- Nymphadora? You can't. It's very powerful stuff. I've used it before. I didn't oversell it to your friend Easton -- or was it you the whole time?" He shrugged when Tonks stuttered incomprehensibly at him, "Never mind. I'll find out soon. You'll do whatever I tell you." He snickered again. "Now then, he's not what?"

"He's not an idiot."

"Ah." He chuckled. "But he was with you? Yes?"

"Y ... ye ... yes." There was a little sob in her voice as she said it, a fact which seemed to give him great entertainment.

"Excellent. Well, my mates should have headed him off once we came out the pub, so if there's still a bit of you thinking he's going to get you out of this, dream on. So, how long has Nymphadora Tonks been an Auror, then?"

"Month. Yeah. About a month."

"A month?!" He actually laughed out loud. "And they send you out doing something like this straight away! Bleeding hell, I knew the Ministry were having trouble finding them, but they must be getting desperate. In over your head, girl. You're not very good at this, are you?"

"I am." This was said with a hint of mulishness.

"Yeah? What are you working on?"

"Not supposed ... to tell you."

"I'm sure you're not. What are you working on?"

"A case."

"Of course you are. What are you working on? Details please."

"Case with potion ... illegal. Not common in this country. Nobody knows ... much about it. Where it comes from. What is does. Who sells it. Who buys it."

"Don't they now," he said with great amusement. "Well, you may just be getting a little bit of an idea by now. I said you might like what it did to you. Of course, I lied."

They had reached an alleyway that led her into a small yard now and Tonks tensed up slightly.. She looked around her with an unfocused air, but there was no-one else around.

"What ... are you doing?"

"Just taking you to a convenient little place we can confer in private," he said merrily. "This way. We wouldn't want anyone else to overhear our conversation, would we? I sure we have lots of interesting things to discuss."

He entered the yard, which was bigger than it had seemed it would be from the alleyway, turned to the door and touched his fingers to a panel on the side. He chuckled once more as the door sprang open.

"Not that you'll ever be telling anyone what we talked about."

"Wanna bet?"

The wizard turned around sharply to see Tonks grinning at him, with her wand pointing at his heart. His face was a picture, registering utter shock.

"I hadn't realised that you'd spotted me, actually," she said cheerfully, "but did you really think I'd be stupid enough to drink that stuff? Or go in that room and let you get a wand on me?"

The wizard looked at her. "But ... how ..." he spluttered, obviously struggling to work out what had gone wrong.

"That drunken clown created quite a nice diversion when he had a go at my partner," she said, enjoying the moment. Sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander, eh? "While you were watching the floor show, it gave me enough time to Transfigure the glass of stuff you gave me into a bottle, slip it in my pocket, then Conjure something that looked like it. Standard practice. I'm rather good at the more advanced Transfiguration techniques," she added conversationally.

The wizard made a twitching movement, and then looked, if anything, even more horrified. Tonks' grin widened. "Oh, and I also cast Remansio on you while I was there for good measure. You really should have been listening more carefully to what I was muttering. Wouldn't want you going anywhere without me, would we?"

She raised her wand to point at the wizard's face. "Let's see who you are then." She flicked it slightly; the scarf twitched, but stayed in place. "Oh, fixed so only you can move it?" she said. "Fair enough. Does this work? Finite Incantatem." She flicked her wand again, but with the same lack of results. "Oh," she said with slight disappointment. "Never mind. I seem to remember there is a counter-charm for this, but they'll have to do it back at the office. Very interesting what you were saying to me. You were being very suspicious pushing that special Firewhiskey. So I thought you might be a bit more communicative if I kidded you along a bit. Hence my little charade. Good, wasn't it?"

Tonks grinned again; in her pleasure at having turned the tables, she almost missed the noise behind her. But not quite. She'd been too well trained for that.

Crack!

Tonks jumped back out of the way just in time as a jet of red light hit the wall next to her head, scattering shards of stone that scraped her face painfully as they went past. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the wizard who had cast the spell running down the alleyway towards the entrance to the little yard. Behind him were two more men with wands drawn.

Instinctively, she pressed the panic button on her robes with her free hand. The wizard next to her took the opportunity of the distraction offered by his friends to go for his wand, but she pointed her own at him and said "Abigo!" He was blasted back into the wall of the building on the far side of the yard, yelling with pain at the impact. He slid down it and lay slumped at the bottom, a trickle of blood staining the scarf that covered his face. Take that! A good idea, Ches. Remind me to thank you for it sometime.

Her heart was thumping at twice the usual rate. Practice duels were all very well, as were the occasional small-scale magical punch-ups she'd found herself in the middle of during her travels. This, however, was the first time she'd been in a real fight with no quarter expected. And the odds weren't good, despite the advantage of her training. Come on, Don, Arnie, she thought fleetingly. Get your ***** in gear. I need help here! She didn't even have time to worry about what might have happened to Cassius.

The other three wizards had now all reached the entrance to the yard, close enough to fire spells at her at short range. She managed to deflect the first salvo easily enough with her Shield Charms. Her opponents evidently had only moderate skill; they had to aim carefully and shout the incantations, giving her ample time to react. She knew, however, that she didn't dare keep this going too long and risk being hit.

They spread out, obviously trying to hem her in. Not a chance, lads. Time for an outflanking manoeuvre. Tonks blocked one more Stunner and then Disapparated into the middle of the alleyway they had just come down, ready to attack them from behind.

It was a bold plan, and it almost worked. They looked around wildly as she disappeared; this tactic apparently hadn't occurred to them either. Unfortunately, she tripped over the hem of her robes on landing and clattered into a door, and the noise it made alerted them to what she'd done. Two more Stunners shot past her as she began to get seriously flustered. You moron, why didn't you just get right out of the way? She blocked another hex as one of the wizards, taking a leaf from her book, Apparated away to reappear the end of the alleyway.

She didn't have time for another Disapparation of her own as she desperately fended off more spells. A return Stunner of her own was blocked, but a quick Impediment Jinx to the legs got past the defences of one of the wizards still in the yard and knocked him over, taking her out of his line of fire for the time being.

Come ON, you Irish git! she thought desperately. What's keeping you? In the chaos, it didn't register that it had been barely a minute since the first hex was cast.

There were only two wizards left on the attack, but they were working together now, approaching from opposite ends of the alley and firing spells in relay. The narrowness of the alley didn't give much room for evasion, and the concentration required to defend against assaults from two opposite directions meant that she couldn't risk taking a second or two out to fix an Apparation destination in her mind. Twice her blocks came only just in time, the residual force of the spells hitting into her like a punch. Once a stray Stunner singed her arm, causing a nasty burn. She needed something to change the situation as quickly as possible. There was still no sign of her backup. Right then. Just about now would be the time to mix it up with something beyond the simple stuff.

Taking advantage of a momentary lull in their attack, she swung her wand in a wide arc, remembering one of the Really Neat Uses Of Transfiguration for combat purposes that Dawlish had demonstrated. Mercifully, it worked; the cobblestones of the alleyway morphed and sprang up into a thin circular wall that surrounded her, acted as a shield, and more importantly, temporarily hid her from view. Nice one Mr Dawlish. She'd been one of the pupils who had managed to use his suggestions effectively. The wall wasn't going to last more than thirty seconds or so, but then it didn't need to.

Her two attackers hesitated for a moment before casting another spell, evidently taken by surprise, and that gave her the chance to focus her mind and Apparate (which turned out to be a lot harder to do under the stress of real combat than it had been in training). She chose as her target the roof of one of the buildings, behind a chimney and out of sight of the alley below, and as she landed she heard two cracks, and the sound of her wall collapsing under the combined effects of the hexes (and, she supposed, the natural tendency of Transfigured objects to revert to their original form unless very powerfully conjured).

Wait a minute. Two cracks? Is that ...? The noise below intensified into what was clearly a duel, and she heard an Irish voice shouting "Tonks! Where the hell are ye?"

"On my way, mate!" She focused, chose her destination carefully, and Apparated down to the end of the alley to head off anyone trying to leave that way -- only to be knocked flying by one of her erstwhile attackers, running as fast as he could away from the scene.

Winded and momentarily breathless, it took a few seconds before the fact that he was running rather than Apparating registered with her. She pulled herself into a half-sitting position and pointed her wand at him: "Vestigare!". He stumbled slightly as he raced round the corner along Diagon Alley, which gave her hope that the spell had hit home. With any luck, he was too far away to have heard what it was.

The sounds from the fight were dying down now, but before she could rejoin O'Gregan and Cornworthy, there was another pop and Cassius appeared in front of her. He was looking rather dishevelled.

"Tonks!" he cried, spotting her on the ground and extending a hand to pull her up. "Are you all right? I saw you signal me as you came out the pub to let you have space for a run at him, but when I followed some ... lowlife hit me in the back with a Stunner. I was lucky one of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol came along and woke me up. He thought I was drunk until I showed him my identification." He looked around him wildly. "This is where I followed that man the other day, isn't it? What happened?"

"I don't know, let 's go see." She nodded towards the alleyway just in time to see her last two attackers Disapparate, to the accompaniment of loud swearing from the other two Aurors.

"Tonks! Cassius!" shouted Cornworthy, spotting them. "What happened?" It seemed to be a popular question at the moment. "Did you get the one who ran away? I managed to hit him with an anti-disapp, but we had our hands full with the other two. They caught us off-balance when we arrived."

"No, although I think I got a Tracking Spell on him," she said urgently, "but what happened the bloke against the wall in the yard?" Seeing their blank looks, she raced down the alleyway, wand at the ready, hoping that he was still out cold. In the confusion, it never even occurred to her to Apparate.

Her luck was out; she was just in time to see him limp painfully through the door he'd opened earlier and slam it behind him. She shot a Stunner at him, but found that she had the same problem as her assailant a few minutes earlier -- trying to cast the spell while running threw her aim off, and it hit the doorframe instead.

She skidded to a halt, somehow managed not to trip over, and cast Alohamora at the door. The lock clicked, but then clicked back in place.

"Hang on, Tonks!" cried O'Gregan, panting, appearing next to her. "Wait for your backup! Has he put Colloportus on that door?"

Tonks gulped as she realised her own rashness but kept her voice steady. "I think so."

"Right." The other two Aurors had arrived, and he quickly said, "Line up. I run the knife over it, you three fire, OK?"

They nodded in assent, and he fished out one of K's gadgets, ran it quickly over the door frame, and flicked the door open. This was followed immediately by cries of Stupefy! from the others.

Unfortunately, the room inside was empty.

Well, not quite empty. On the far side was a fireplace, the presence of which clearly hadn't been obvious to Cassius looking in from outside when the room was dark. Now, however, it wasn't; the flames were giving the room an eerie green glow.

O'Gregan, on seeing this, began to turn the air blue instead. Tonks felt much the same. Her wonderful investigative coup was suddenly starting to fall apart in her hands.

Cassius was the quickest to react, reaching for his mirror phone. "Hang on, we might be able to trace him," he said urgently. He spoke into the mirror: "Floo Network office, monitoring liaison. Urgent call." His face showed relief as someone answered immediately.

"Mary, nice to see you again. We're in a small hall in a yard off Diagon Alley, a suspect just went through the Floo. Can you trace where he went?" He listened carefully, then turned to the others. "She needs a specific person to go through to a known destination so she can pinpoint the fire of origin. Can one of you step through to the Ministry?"

"I'll go," said Cornworthy unhappily. "I have to get back anyway. I was just finishing a report when she called." He stepped into the flames and vanished.

"Arnold Cornworthy went through," said Cassius to the woman from the Floo office. "He's an Auror, you'll have his trace on file."

They stood around watching each other as they waited for her to get back to them. Tonks couldn't quite look the others in the eye.

"Who was that on the other end?" she asked, to be saying something.

"Mary Edgecombe from the monitoring group," Cassius said tensely. "Don, when she calls would you keep an eye on things here while we go after him? Come on, Mary, ..." The phone rang and he answered it immediately. "Yes? Oh. Very well. Thank you, Mary." He looked up, his disappointment showing clearly on his face. "All right, Tonks, he popped out at the Leaky Cauldron. Let's go."

They quickly Apparated into the bar of the pub, but the scarved wizard was nowhere to be seen. Tonks realised, as she looked around, that travelling here was probably the smartest move he could have made. It would have been a very quick journey, giving him plenty of time to get away before anyone could trace him. It was a public place, so the destination hadn't given away anything about him. And it provided an immediate means of escape.

She gloomily followed Cassius over to the bar, where Tom, the bald-headed barman, readily told them about the man who had appeared in the fire, then immediately rushed through the bar and out of the front door into the Muggle street on the other side. A customer who had been entering the pub at the time, and nearly been flattened by the man as he dashed out, informed them that he had jumped into a Muggle black cab and been driven away.

Cassius thanked him, and turned back to Tonks disconsolately. "Bugger."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. It wasn't as if he'd chosen a particularly bad swear word, but coming from Cassius, it was the equivalent of a four-letter tirade from anyone else. It certainly showed how frustrated he was.

"Can't we trace the taxi?" she said desperately. "They're all numbered, aren't they? Do we have any kind of contact with the Muggle police?"

Cassius snorted. "For something like this? We could send a memo via the Muggle Relations people. We might get an answer back before the World Cup if we're very lucky. Anyway, he only needed to go far enough to get out of sight of the pub.