The Bookseller's Daughter

Chapter Five: The Ministry

At 8 am on 25th June, Liz stood at the entrance to Auror Headquarters for the first time in over a month. She pushed open the sturdy, panelled door, and walked inside. The office was deserted. Although she knew it would be quiet before nine (and had purposely come in early so she could compose herself before the others arrived), the emptiness made her feel a sudden surge of anger. Shaking her head, she silently chastised her absent colleagues. Where are you? Don’t you know what’s happened?

She walked slowly down to the end of the room towards her cubicle. She knew it would be full of Jack and Tonks’ mess; they were cramped together in a small, shared area, and were desperate for any space they could get to write reports and read their case notes. Even when Liz went out for coffee, she would return to find one of them at her desk. Goodness knows what state it would be in now they’d had free rein for a month. Sure enough, as Liz reached it, she gave a sigh of dismay as she surveyed the damage. A Puddlemere United poster sagged forlornly from the pinboard on the wall, having lost a drawing pin at one corner. One burly Puddlemere player, who’d had a moustache and a pair of fangs roughly scrawled across his face with a Ministry-issue quill, shouted muted obscenities and shook his fist at a Falmouth Falcons beermat which had been roughly stapled over his midriff. The desk and filing cabinet were littered with old mugs, complete with coffee dregs in various stages of fungal mutation, which made the whole cubicle smell faintly like a stagnant pond. Ink-stained, screwed-up parchment scrolls were scattered over the floor, and there was a livid scar across the top of the wooden desk, where some sort of potion spill had taken off a layer of the varnish. A spare Auror’s robe and an old, threadbare jumper were strewn across the back of Liz’s chair, and to top it all, Jack’s cheerful, ageing toad, Quinnulus, glared at her balefully from the centre of an old plastic washing-up bowl, half-filled with water and balanced precariously on the seat. He croaked a greeting, and splashed wetly over towards her.

You horrors, thought Liz. If you weren’t the best, most loyal junior Aurors ever, there’d be hell to pay. Resignedly, she Vanished most of the detritus with a deft flick of her wand, and followed it with a strong Scouring Charm. The potion stain took a bit of removing, but eventually it faded, and soon her cubicle was back to its spotless (some would say obsessive-compulsive) order, drawing pins lined up in rows on the board, and files stacked in strict alphabetical order on the desk. Finally, only Quinnulus was left, so she picked him up, put him in his bowl and walked him carefully over to the bomb site that was his master’s desk. “There you are, sweetie,” she said to him. “Back to Daddy.” Quinnulus croaked gratefully and gave her a wide, toad smile. She conjured him a fat, juicy bluebottle. He caught it with a swift lash of his sticky tongue, then settled down to wallow smugly, awaiting Jack’s return.

“They spent all yesterday evening tidying up for you, you know.”

Liz whirled round at the sound of the voice, and beamed at the tall, black wizard who now stood in front of her. “Kingsley!”

Laughing, Kingsley Shacklebolt held out his arms, and Liz ran over to him. They hugged each other tightly. “Welcome back!” he said. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, Lizzie. How are you?”

“I’m fine,” she assured him, her chin just reaching the top of his right shoulder. “And glad to be back. But I’m not going to be much use if you squeeze the life breath out of me!”

“Ooh, look, Jack!” shrieked a cheery voice from the doorway. “I think we’ve caught ‘em snogging!” Nymphadora Tonks, for once elegantly clad in a sixties-style Muggle cocktail dress, complete with blonde bouffant, strode purposefully into the office. She promptly tripped over the edge of the carpet and sprawled flat on the floor, tearing a large hole in her dress, exposing her stocking tops and sending a nearby waste paper bin flying. Jack Williamson resignedly offered her his hand. “Get up, Tonks. It’s far too early in the morning to see your underwear,” he sighed.

Scrambling to her feet, a red-faced Tonks looked down at her ripped dress in dismay. “What a mess!” she wailed. “I thought I’d make a bit of an effort since it’s a special occasion, your first day back, but just look at me. I’m just not cut out for glamour.”

Liz laughed, waved her wand and mended Tonks’ dress in a trice. “Oh, Tonks! Well, I think you look lovely. It’s those stilettos – I could never walk properly in them, either.”

“Oh, I’ve missed you!” Tonks enveloped Liz in her second bear-hug of the morning. “How could you leave me here alone with this lot?”

“It’s us that need the protection,” said Jack. He caught sight of Liz’s cubicle, and grimaced. “Sorry about your desk, boss. It was all her mess, anyway.” He nodded at Tonks, who promptly stuck out her tongue in reply. Jack turned to her and made a mock-serious face. “And that’s no way to behave in front of the senior officers, is it? Extra night patrols for you, young lady!”

“All right,” said Kingsley. “That’s enough mirth for now. You two had better toe the line now that your boss is back. For a start, your case reports aren’t up to date yet, are they? I want them ready at ten o’clock sharp.” The twinkle in his eye belied his serious tone. “In the meantime, the Inspector and I will be in my office discussing which one of you we send out for cakes.”

Amid groans, Tonks and Jack dragged themselves towards their desks and Liz followed Kingsley down to the far end of the office. To passers-by, the Auror Chief Superintendent’s cubicle looked much like the others, small and cramped with yellowing pictures of ever-uglier Dark wizards pinned haphazardly to the wall. To perfect the illusion (at least to the staff of other Ministry departments), Kingsley spent an hour or so each day at the desk in his cubicle, sending flying memos to his colleagues and sharing their jokes. But when he pointed his wand at a grease spot halfway up the wall, an oak door would appear, which led into an elegant, wood-panelled office, complete with ante-chamber where his secretary sat. This morning, however, there was no need for artifice. He took Liz straight through to his enchanted office and shut the door firmly behind them. She watched the smile fade fast from his face as he motioned her to an armchair by the fireplace. He briskly checked his extensive display of dark detectors, which were ranged along the shelves at the far side of the room, and it was only when he seemed satisfied that no dangers lurked nearby that he returned and took the seat opposite her. Liz produced her latest case file and handed it to him, but he merely placed it on a nearby shelf.

“We’ll talk about the Hogsmeade case later, Liz. I’ll come straight to the point. I’m afraid I’ve got some very bad news. It appears that Voldemort is back.”

Liz nodded grimly. “I know.” She told him about Edgar Marcellus’s findings.

“Have you told anyone else?”

“No, absolutely not. Edgar and I were planning to tell you today. How do you know about it?”

Kingsley proceeded to tell Liz about the events at the Triwizard Tournament, and of Harry Potter’s ordeal at the hands of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Albus Dumbledore had sent word to Kingsley straight away, and asked him to prepare his most trusted Aurors for what might lie ahead.

Liz sighed. “It all fits, Kingsley. Edgar’s results suggest that they abandoned what they were doing to the girl when they were called away.”

“Well, we know they’ve begun to rally again over the past couple of years. It was going to happen someday,” he replied. “But it was still a shock to hear it.”

Liz looked across at Kingsley. His shoulders sagged, and frown lines creased his handsome face. In all the years she had known him, he had never looked more like the middle-aged wizard he was, tired and disconsolate. “You're worn out,” she said.

“I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night,” he admitted. “I spent most of it trying to come up with some ideas about how to ensure that we’re prepared.”

“When are we going to tell the others?” asked Liz.

“We’re not, for the moment. At least, not all of them, just the ones we know we can trust. It seems that Fudge is in complete denial, absolutely refuses to believe that such a thing could happen, so we’re not going to get any support from him and his cronies.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me? The man’s always been a complete fool. But are you sure about this secrecy, Kingsley? What’s going to happen when the attacks start again? We’ll hardly be able to keep it quiet then. And Aurors will be in real danger, as well as the victims. It doesn’t seem fair to cover it up.” Liz thought back to the first few Death Eater attacks she had been called to while still a trainee, and she felt sick with dread at the thought of having to go through that hell again.

“It’s not fair to cause a mass panic, either, Liz. If the account that the Potter boy gave is true, Voldemort’s only just returned. It may be a while before he gathers enough strength and support to start up any sort of terror campaign again. If we’ve got a bit of time, we may as well take advantage of that to organize ourselves with the minimum of fuss.” He sighed. “It’s going to be very tough. We’ve got to be prepared, and with very few resources, too. If Fudge won’t acknowledge what’s happened, you can bet there won’t be any Ministry war chest. I’ll have to divert what I can from other parts of the budget if needs be.” He paused. “You and Edgar won't say anything to anyone yet, will you?”

“Of course not, Kingsley. That goes without saying. But if Edgar’s right about the Death Eaters and the Hogsmeade attack, we may have to tell Jim Bennett. I’m sure we can trust him. He suspects Dark involvement anyway, and he’s no fool. He’ll know if we’re suppressing evidence.”

Kingsley sighed. “If you say he’s trustworthy, I’m sure he is. And I suppose he’ll hear about what happened at the Tournament anyway, being based in Hogsmeade.”

“Poor Amos,” said Liz. “He must be devastated.”

Kingsley nodded sadly. “I shall try and set up a meeting for this evening, about seven, just for a few of us. If we hold it just after the day shift go home, it won’t attract too much attention. Can you make it then?”

“Yes, of course. Today I need to talk to Tonks and Jack about the latest progress on outstanding cases, and then I’m hoping to get to St Mungo’s later on if our Hogsmeade victim is well enough to talk. If I have time afterwards I’ll try and catch up on some of the paperwork I’ve left … I doubt I’ll be leaving early, anyway.”

Kingsley looked concerned. “Steady on, Lizzie. It’s only your first day back. Are you sure you’re up to this? I can’t afford to lose you again, not now.”

For a fleeting moment, Liz wondered whether to tell him about the card, and then decided against it. He had enough to worry about. She would have to clean up her own mess. “I’m OK, Kingsley. Pleased to be back, in fact.”

He smiled. “Mum looking after you too well?”

“Something like that,” she replied, and then frowned. “Kingsley, if it’s all right with you I think I’d like to live in Hogsmeade for a while and Apparate in. I’m wary about leaving Mum alone, especially now. She’s getting on, and now Dad’s gone --”

“Of course,” he replied at once. “As long as the travelling doesn’t get too much for you. I’ll arrange for you to have a secure Floo line put in, so you can take work calls at home. But I want you to bring Jack in to help you on the Hogsmeade case. He took over on the London attacks when you went away, and he made some good progress.”

Liz paled in horror. “Not too good, I hope.”

Kingsley lowered his voice. “He doesn’t know what happened, Liz. I’ve been keeping an eye on him. If he gets too close, we’ll bring him in and talk to him together. But you’ll have to let him work on the Hogsmeade attack, it’ll look odd if we don’t include him on a connected case.”

Liz looked dubious, despite Kingsley’s reassurances, but she nodded her assent. It was no use arguing. She trusted Kingsley, and she knew he was right. If Jack found out her secret, they’d deal with it when it happened. “Of course. I’m sure he’ll work out well, he’s an excellent Auror. I’ll wait until after the St Mungo’s visit and then brief him when we’ve got more news.”

Kingsley smiled. “That’s the spirit. You know, if you need to get away from Hogsmeade for a break, there’s plenty of room at mine. And Desirée would be delighted to see you.”

The thought of Kingsley’s beautiful, vivacious wife made Liz smile. “Thanks, Kingsley. I’d love to see her too. It’s been ages.”

Just as Liz was beginning to feel warm and comfortable at the thought of time spent with good friends, the office door flew open, and a tall, imposing witch bustled in through the doorway. She caught sight of Liz, and beamed. “Inspector! You’re back! How lovely to see you!” The new arrival was Madam Monica Medway, Kingsley’s fearsome secretary. She closed the door behind her with an imperious wave of her wand. As she crossed the room, she stopped in front of them, eyeing Kingsley suspiciously. “You look terrible. Too much Firewhisky last night, was it, hmm? Serves you right if you’ve got a headache. You should know better at your age. I’ll get you a dose of Whisk-E-Gone. You’ve got a meeting with the Head of Department this morning, and he won’t appreciate you breathing alcohol fumes all over him!” She strode off towards her desk in the ante-chamber, muttering.

“You know, you really shouldn’t let her bully you like that,” whispered Liz.

“Oh, Merlin, it’s a small price to pay, Liz. The place would fall apart without her. I’d never know where anything was, or get to any meetings,” replied Kingsley. “And she makes a cracking cup of coffee.”

As if to prove his last point, a tray loaded with a cafetière, cups, plates and several enormous pains-au-chocolat whistled through the air towards them and landed neatly on a small table at Kingsley’s side. “Make sure he doesn’t hog all the pastries, Miss Everett,” called Monica. “He’s got his ample waistline to consider. And you look peaky, my dear. Are you getting enough iron?”

Before Liz could reply, there was a tentative tap at the door. Monica stomped over to answer it and promptly tore a strip off the unfortunate young Auror standing outside. “No, Chief Superintendent Shacklebolt is not currently available. I don’t care if it’s important, young man. You can’t just barge in here and expect to speak to him, you know. He’s in a meeting with a senior officer. You can come back later when I say it is convenient, and not before! ”

Liz grinned and helped herself to coffee. “Professor McGonagall, eat your heart out! Woe betide Voldemort if he turns up here without an appointment.”

Kingsley chuckled, stretched and relaxed in his seat. There would be precious little to laugh about in the coming months, thought Liz, and she smiled at him, determined to enjoy a joke while she could. It didn’t last long though; as she finished the last mouthful of pastry, the plate flew out of her hand and stacked itself neatly on the tray.

Monica’s dulcet tones drifted across the room. “We shan’t keep you, Miss Everett. The Chief has a busy day ahead, and I’m sure you have, too.” A stack of parchments on Kingsley’s desk promptly sorted themselves into order, and his office chair pulled itself out, ready for him to sit down. “You have ten minutes before the Head of Department arrives, Mr. Shacklebolt. I suggest you start reading his briefing document now.”

Liz got to her feet. “I’ll see you later.” She said goodbye to Monica and made her way back to the main office, which was now crowded; the night shift had drifted in to file their reports before they went home, and the day Aurors milled around, chatting and conjuring tea and coffee to start the day.

Although she knew the office routine and should have anticipated the rush, it took her by surprise, and she stood at the edge of Kingsley’s cubicle for a moment, feeling strangely intimidated at the sight of them all. She took a deep breath and stepped out into their midst. One of the older Aurors, Jock McMurtry, a grizzled-looking wizard with a tartan eye-patch, saw her first and shouted, “Ye’re back, Inspect-urr!” in his broad Scottish tones, grabbing her hand and shaking it hard. “Guid to see yer!” In an instant, familiar faces thronged around her, all proclaiming their joy at her return. She was seized by a sudden anguish, as if she didn’t deserve their greetings; if they knew what she’d done and why she’d run away, they’d be horrified. She started to feel hot and dizzy, and it became increasingly hard to breathe. She knew she had to get away fast, and with a mumbled, “Lovely to see you all, must dash, catch you later,” she walked as fast as she could out of the office, and once the door was shut behind her, ran to the ladies’ toilets at the end of the corridor, almost knocking over a couple of Ministry secretaries in the process. She locked herself in a cubicle and sat down, head between her knees, until the nausea began to subside.

After a few minutes, there was a soft knocking at the cubicle door. “Liz?” called a concerned voice. “Are you all right?”

Damn, she thought. I hoped no-one had noticed. “Drank too much coffee with the Chief, I think.”

She unlocked the door, and smiled reassuringly at a worried-looking Tonks, who said, “You look ever so pale. Can I get you a drink of water or anything?”

“Thanks,” Liz replied. “But I’m fine, really.” She took Tonks’ arm, and steered her towards the door. “Come on. Let’s go back, and you can fill me in on all the gossip I’ve missed.”

They went back to Liz’s cubicle, and sat down. The office was quieter now, and Liz began to calm down. Jack soon joined them, and they sat for a while, talking about the progress made on cases they’d taken over during her absence. After an hour or so, Liz’s fireplace spluttered into life and Sergeant Jim Bennett’s head hovered in the flames.

“Good morning, Liz. Just thought I’d let you know that St. Mungo’s have called me. Miss Smith’s still a bit sleepy, but Waterbury thinks we’ll be able to talk to her for a few minutes.”

“Oh, that is good news, Jim. Let’s hope she can identify her attacker,” replied Liz.

“If you can get away, why don’t we go now?”

“Fine. Shall I meet you there in about half-an-hour?”

The sergeant agreed, and Liz introduced him to Tonks and Jack before he ended the call. She got up to retrieve her cloak, and left them to work on their by now overdue case reports until she returned.

* * * * *

As Liz walked away, Jack eyed her carefully. After she’d left the office, he turned to Tonks, who was by now absently putting her facial features through their complete repertoire of changes, as she read her notes. “We’re going to have to keep a close eye on the boss, Tonks,” he said. “She seems very tense, and that looked like a definite panic attack she had earlier.”

“I think she found all the attention a bit much,” replied Tonks. “You know Liz, she doesn’t like fuss. Give her a chance - you’d feel strange too, coming back to this madhouse after a month in the country.” She put her parchment down on the desk and turned to him. “You know, Kingsley told me she got a right beating that night. She was badly hurt. It’s bound to have knocked her confidence a bit."

“I don’t know, Tonks. I’ve got a feeling it’s more than that. I thought it was a bit odd that he wouldn’t let us visit her. And we never did get a clear account of what happened down Knockturn Alley that night. It’s been like trying to bang my head against a brick wall, taking over those murder investigations. Suddenly none of my contacts want to talk, no-one admits to knowing anything, and there’s big gaps in Liz’s case notes.”

Tonks chewed the end of her quill thoughtfully. “Gaps in her case notes? That is odd. She usually notes everything down to the last detail. You should talk to her about it – perhaps some of it got mislaid when she went off sick.”

“I certainly will. I might wait till she stops jumping out of her skin at the slightest thing, though. But I can’t help thinking that there’s something funny going on, Tonks, and she’s mixed up in it, I know she is. And don’t do that with your nose. It’s really distracting.”

Tonks gave him a dirty look. “Oh, stop it, Jack! Liz is a good boss. We’re lucky to have her. She’s as straight as they come and you know it. Don’t let your imagination run away with you just ’cos you can’t get anywhere with the case. And leave my nose out of it!”

At that moment, a large tawny owl swooped through the office, and landed neatly on Tonks’ desk. He let her take a roll of parchment from his leg, but when she tried to remove the white envelope from his beak he backed away. She leaned over to read the address. “Oh, you’ve just missed Inspector Everett. It’s OK, you can leave it with me. I’ll give it to her when she gets back.” The bird obligingly dropped the envelope on her desk and she smiled. “Thanks, mate. Here, have an owl treat.”

* * * * *

Liz was first to arrive at St. Mungo’s. She spoke to the Welcomewitch at the reception desk, and sat down in the crowded waiting area to wait for Sergeant Bennett. She shuddered as she cast her mind back to her last visit to the hospital, when the night mediwitch had taken one look at her and rushed off to find the duty Healer. At that moment, she felt a tap on her shoulder, and she turned in her chair to see Jim Bennett looking down at her. Instead of his smart MLES robes, he was dressed in smart grey serge; she hardly recognised him. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement dictated that visits to hospital (other than official guard duty) should be done in civilian dress, so as not to alarm other patients. Liz had dressed in smart, fitted green robes herself, which she hoped imparted both style and a sense of responsibility. In fact, she often wondered why Auror uniform had been made so conspicuous in the first place; whereas MLES provided a reassuring uniformed presence when required, modern Auror work was frequently clandestine or undercover. Bright scarlet robes were fine for ceremonial occasions or when a show of Ministry strength was needed, but pretty useless for most day-to-day purposes, which meant that in practice they were rarely worn. Dressing appropriately for senior officer status wasn’t cheap, and if she could wheedle a professional clothing allowance out of Kingsley, Liz was seriously thinking about opening an account at Madam Malkin’s. In order to get a good finish, it was definitely better to leave tailoring spells to the experts than to try and run something up with your own wand.

“Shall we go? Healer Waterbury said he’d wait for us up there,” said the sergeant, interrupting Liz’s thoughts.

She got up, and they made their way up six flights of stairs, to the floor above the Visitors’ Tearoom and Hospital Shop, to where Demelza Smith was hidden in the closed section. Healer Waterbury, looking even more tired than before, stepped out from behind a pile of neatly-stacked chairs to greet them, and led them along a long, dimly-lit corridor. Liz was pleased to see he had proved as good as his word; the closed ward really did seem to be a dusty, disused attic. At the end of the corridor, he turned sharp right into a small boxroom.

“Auror Inspector Everett, and Sergeant Bennett of Hogsmeade MLES, gentlemen,” announced Healer Waterbury, into seemingly thin air. A mop and bucket to his right blurred and faded, and revealed itself to be a tall, muscular MLES wizard. He prodded at the other mop and bucket, which was leaning against the wall, and unmasked an even more imposing-looking colleague. They immediately stood straight and saluted the new arrivals.

“Thank you, gentlemen,” responded Jim Bennett smoothly. “We’re here to talk to Miss Smith. Go and get yourselves a cup of tea.”

The two guards nodded their thanks, changed robes in a flash, and left the room. Healer Waterbury waved his wand at the large metal cupboard before him, and revealed the patient in her bed. He motioned to Liz and the sergeant to stay back for a moment. “Miss Smith,” he said in a quiet voice. “Two officers of the law are here to see you. Do you feel up to talking to them for a moment?”

The figure in the bed stirred, and Liz saw dark hair move as the patient nodded her head slightly. The Healer beckoned them over. “Just a few minutes, please. And keep your questions short.” He conjured a chair at each side of the bed, and then moved away. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

As Liz sat down, she saw Demelza Smith properly for the first time, and was seized by an overwhelming sadness as she saw the young woman’s injuries. Despite the best Healing efforts of St Mungo’s emergency staff, her face still looked beaten to a bloody pulp; the left eye remained a swollen mass of bruising. Rune-like markings spread black and red along both forearms, the burns still bright despite a liberal covering of orange-coloured paste. Liz knew instantly that the attacks were connected; she didn’t need to wait for Magical Forensics’ photographs. They were the same foul symbols she had seen seared into the skin of the previous victims.

As she saw Liz’s expression, a tear welled up in Demelza Smith’s right eye and snaked its way down her cheek, pooling saltily into several small cuts. Her body wracked with a painful sob. Liz took Demelza’s right hand in her own, careful not to touch any of the scars, and stroked it in an attempt to soothe her. In a gentle voice, she introduced herself and the sergeant, and told the girl that they were there to help her. “Did you see who did this to you, Miss Smith?”

“Made me dizzy, miss,” the girl wheezed, gasping for breath.

“Who made you dizzy, Demelza?” asked Sergeant Bennett. “Did someone cast a spell on you?”

“M-misty,” continued the girl in a hoarse whisper. “Couldn’t see. Purple-coloured mist.”

Liz felt a chill snake its way down her spine as she remembered her evening walk through Hogsmeade. Suddenly, Demelza began to cough and retch painfully. Sergeant Bennett carefully supported the injured girl, raising her head and shoulders, while Liz picked up a glass of water with a drinking straw in it from the bedside table, and held it to the girl’s mouth. After a sip or two, Demelza seemed to relax, and her breathing eased slightly.

“Could you tell whether it was more than one person who attacked you?” asked Liz.

“Four … no, five …” whispered Demelza. “Men ... well-spoken ...”

“Did you see their faces?” asked the sergeant.

“Masks …” gasped Demelza. Her breathing suddenly became laboured again, and she grew agitated.

Liz placed her hand softly on the girl’s shoulder, and tried to calm her. “I’m sorry, Demelza, I don’t want to upset you, but this is very important. Were they wearing black masks and robes?”

Demelza nodded. Painful tears began to streak down her raw, bloody cheeks and she began to sob once more.

“Liz, I --” began the sergeant, looking worried.

“Just one more question, Jim,” Liz replied firmly. She turned back to Demelza. “Did they stop attacking you suddenly, as if they had been called away?”

“Y-yes,” gasped Demelza, struggling desperately for breath as painful spasms shook her body.

“That’s quite enough, Inspector!” Healer Waterbury emerged from the shadows behind them and hurried towards the bed. “Miss Smith is extremely ill. One or two questions, I said, not an interrogation!”

“Healer --” began Liz, but was brusquely waved away, as the healer placed himself between her and his distressed, sobbing patient.

“Out! Now! I’ll contact you when the patient is well enough for you to visit again!” the young man snapped. It was clear that Liz and the sergeant had no choice but to leave.

Healer Waterbury stared after them until he was quite sure they were gone. He turned to Demelza, a curious, cold glint in his eye. He produced a small phial from his robe pocket, and bent over the bed. “There, there, my dear,” he said softly, as he touched the phial to her dry, cracked lips. “You remembered more than we expected, didn’t you? Here’s some medicine for you. It’s just a nice sedative potion. Drink it up, now. It’ll take all your pain away.” He held her hand for a moment, then placed it gently by her side and moved away from the bed. He called the two MLES guards, who had remained outside the door after Liz and the sergeant had left, and with a smile, asked them to take up their positions once more.

As Liz and Jim Bennett reached the ground floor foyer, the sergeant caught Liz’s arm and drew her into a quiet recess beside the staircase. “Tell me what you meant about masks and hoods. And why did you ask her whether the perpetrators had been called away, rather than just ‘interrupted’?” he asked.

“We think the attacks are being committed by a ritual group – a Dark sect,” she replied. Well, it was mostly true.

“And you think it could be Death Eaters.”

Liz stared at him for a long moment. “What makes you think that, Sergeant?” Her nerves were rattled, but she kept her voice cool and formal. She wouldn’t tell him anything until she worked out whether he actually knew something, or was just jumping to conclusions. Furthermore, she firmly closed her mind, just in case. The last thing she needed was a curious sergeant with a nice sideline in Legilimency.

His eyes darted around the room, until he was seemingly satisfied that neither staff nor patients were paying any attention to the well-dressed couple talking intently in the corner. “Last night, there was a death up at the school. In very suspicious circumstances indeed.”

Liz sighed. “I know. Amos Diggory’s boy.”

The sergeant gave her a hard look. “And presumably you know about the rumours surrounding it.”

Liz nodded.

“From what you said to Miss Smith, you think the attack on her is connected.”

“Possibly.”

“And precisely when were you going to tell me? This is my case, you know.”

Liz shook her head. “Not here, Jim. Not even with an Anti-Eavesdrop Charm. Let’s go back to the Ministry.”

* * * * *

At ten minutes to seven that evening, Monica Medway’s voice delivered a stern personalised message directly to several Auror ears. “Please make your way quietly to Chief Superintendent Shacklebolt’s office at once. Yes, this means you. Do not tell your colleagues where you are going. This message will continue to repeat itself until you acknowledge it by tapping your nose twice.”

Liz smiled to herself as several faces around the room suddenly took on a look of extreme guilt, and the ludicrous sight of collective nose tapping made her stifle a giggle. Ten Aurors in total rose to their feet and began to move towards the end cubicle, with Tonks, Jack and Liz bringing up the rear. Each made their way through the concealed door and were met by Monica, who hurried them firmly along to the large conference table at the far end of Kingsley’s office.

As soon as they were seated, Kingsley rose to address them.

One wag at the end of the table joked brightly, “No coffee ready, Chief? Madam Monica’s slipping!”

Monica gave the culprit a look that would have incinerated a Hungarian Horntail. Kingsley pursed his lips and pointed his wand at the table. Instantly, a silver tray with several crystal glasses and a large decanter of Firewhisky appeared. “You’ll be needing something stronger than coffee when I’ve finished with you, Dogsbody,” he snapped. “This is no laughing matter.”

Auror Sergeant Ernesto Dogsbury squirmed with embarrassment and a murmur of disquiet went around the table; it was unusual to see their amiable boss so short of patience. Tonks gave Liz a vaguely nervous look, and Liz patted the young woman’s hand to try and reassure her. “Listen to him.”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” began Kingsley slowly, his dark eyes solemn. “I’ve gathered you together this evening because I have something of the utmost importance to tell you.”