Nymphadora Tonks and the Liquor of Jacmel

4: Little Mrs Anonymous

Thursday, July 23^rd 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 23^rd 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!"