Nymphadora Tonks and the Liquor of Jacmel

5: On The Night In Question

Friday, July 24^th 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, sniggered 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 Burkes," 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 Burkes 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.

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

"Who's he?"

"Sleeping partner in Borgin and Burkes in Knockturn Alley. It's about the biggest shop there, but Burkes doesn't go in much - he just put up the Galleons to get them started. They're a canny pair; we're fairly sure they sell a lot of illegal Dark Arts materials under the counter, but they keep everything well hidden. The stuff they do have on display is unpleasant 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?"

"Tomorrow 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?"