Nymphadora Tonks and the Liquor of Jacmel

7: The Educational Value of Art

Monday July 27^th 1994

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

"He's innocent."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

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

WIZARDING EASY BOOK ACCESS

Please see the instructions provided,

or consult the staff of the Hall of Records

if you encounter any problems.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I hope so."

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

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

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

*****

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

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

"Wotcher, Princess."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Andromeda Tonks sniffed. "Angry goblins? Wonderful."

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, Nymphadora?" she said, suspiciously.

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

"Nymphadora ..."

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

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

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

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

*****

Tuesday July 28^th 1994

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

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

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

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

"Do you have any urgent business on hand?"

"Not really. Why?"

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

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

"Your cousin, Sirius Black."