Nymphadora Tonks and the Liquor of Jacmel

8: Things the Boys and Girls Get Up To

Tuesday July 28^th 1994

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are they sure?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Old friends maybe? A hideout?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Because you're a Black, Tonks."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you sure?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What happened to him?"

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

"I know," said Tonks quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"'Us'?" inquired Cassius quietly.

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

"The sheep of the Black family, in fact." He made an admirable attempt at a straight face while saying this, but couldn't keep his mouth from twitching at the edges. Tonks felt anger flare for a moment, but then said shamefacedly, "Yeah, I suppose so. Strange lot, aren't we? The Muggle-born, the blood traitor, the half-blood freak. We might as well have had a big target painted on our house. I'm amazed we all survived."

Cassius grinned. "I think you'll do, Tonks." He hesitated, then the grin returned. "You're doing me good, you know that? It's been so many years since I was a real tyro - first time around, that is - I'd forgotten how it felt to be young and enthusiastic. Your attitude must be rubbing off; I'm actually starting to enjoy this again. I must remember to thank Egbert Claymore next time I see him."

Tonks snickered. "I'm not sure he'll appreciate that." She paused. "Look, thanks for rescuing me from that sod Shacklebolt. I might have said something I'd have regretted. Well. OK, said something more I'd have regretted."

"No problem. And don't be too hard on Kingsley, he's just doing his job. He's a very good chap when you get to know him and work with him."

Tonks shrugged. "Well, don't take offence, Cassius, but I really hope that isn't for a while yet." She looked at the pile of work awaiting completion on her desk, and grinned at him mischievously. "Right then, if you don't mind my young person's attitude, all I've got to say is - last one to finish their report buys the drinks after work!"

*****

Wednesday July 29^th 1994

Tonks Apparated into the Ministry rather later than she'd intended the following morning. She was suffering from a hangover that even a dose of potion hadn't completely alleviated, although as compensation she had the pleasant recollection of having successfully outlasted her partner, drink for drink. She was rather hazy about the details of their conversation, but could vaguely remember Cassius entertaining her with a series of thoroughly scurrilous tales of what Auror work had been like in the old days. One of these days, I'll have to get him to tell me again when I'm sober, she reflected. She glanced at the clock, winced at how late she was, then brightened. Oh well. At least with this job, you can keep odd hours and put it down to 'working on a case'.

Cassius wasn't anywhere to be seen in the office when she arrived, but Rhiannon Davies was there, talking to the man in the Muggle police uniform again. Tonks tried to watch them out of the corner of her eye while dutifully reading the daily intelligence bulletin. The man looked uncomfortable and somewhat overawed, but was paying close attention to whatever it was they were talking about. Davies noticed that she was looking at them and winked.

The bulletin wasn't especially interesting. Most of the reports were brief updates on cases of which she only had the vaguest recollection. However, she was pleased to see that Donnacha's report on the results of the Farley interrogation was included, and that Cassius had added a note on what they'd learned from the WEB. Out of curiosity she looked for Rhiannon Davies' name, but it wasn't listed on any report as far as she could see.

She glanced up to find that Cassius had just arrived, looking somewhat the worse for wear. She wondered guiltily if she'd encouraged him to overdo it the previous evening, but he managed a rather wan smile as she sat down.

"You know, Tonks," he said, in a voice that was hoarser than usual, "I haven't had a session like that since I left the service all those years ago. I can remember why now. You feel like death warmed up in the morning."

"Oops. Sorry."

"No, don't apologise. You didn't exactly force the stuff down my throat at wandpoint. I went into it with my eyes open - well, at least they were open for the first bottle or so." He winced and put a hand to his temple. "Probably overconfidence on my part. I used to be quite good at it, you know; I even outdrank my Yankee counterparts sometimes when I was over there, and that's not easily done. Unfortunately, like so many things in life, if you don't do it for a while you don't realise how out of practice you are until you actually try it again. I hope I didn't embarrass myself."

"Don't think so. Don't know if I'd remember if you had though, mate."

"Ah." He paused. "Thank you for last night, Tonks."

Tonks blinked. "Thanks? Are you sure?"

"Yes. You made me feel like - what's the phrase - 'one of the boys' again. I haven't really been one since I came back. I appreciate it, Tonks. Really, I do. It was worth the aftereffects to be able to feel like that again."

Tonks grinned at him. "Don't mention it."

Cassius grinned back. "All right, I won't. Mind you, I don't think I'll try it again for a while. I always knew you were going to be trouble."

"Trouble's my middle name, mate. Well, OK, you know it isn't, but it should have been. I wouldn't have minded answering to that at school. It would have fit beautifully."

"Spent half your time in detention, eh? When I was at school - yes, Tonks, even I was a schoolboy once - I used to hand those out," said Cassius reminiscently. "Only because I had to, though. We prefects were meant to keep the little wretches in order. I don't remember we ever managed it, mind you, but we were meant to."

"I was one of the little wretches none of the prefects could keep in order," said Tonks, grinning. "The Metamorphmagus stuff really helped. Well, for a year or so anyway, until they cottoned on."

"Oh yes?"

"Yeah, if I was where I wasn't supposed to be and a prefect came along, I'd just change my appearance and give them a false name. Most of them didn't know who all the first-years were and didn't care anyway, it was easy."

She chortled as a particular set of escapades popped up from her memory. "I gave one poor Hufflepuff fifth-year a real runaround. He'd see me disappear into a room looking like myself, then pop out again the next minute as somebody else with a butter-wouldn't-melt expression. Then he'd go in the room and find it empty. He was horribly confused, poor boy. I could practically see the thoughts going through his mind: Wait a minute - she must have changed her appearance! No, hang on, she's only a first-year. No way can she know how to do advanced Transfiguration. The other one must be hiding, or maybe there's a secret passage I don't know about. Damn! It was hilarious."

Cassius sat back and chuckled. "You know, I'm very glad we didn't have anyone like you around when I was a prefect. I think I might have just handed the badge back as a bad job." He looked around guiltily. "Anyway, enough of your terrible past. And mine. I've a feeling I probably slandered my erstwhile colleagues quite outrageously last night, so it's probably best we're both a bit hazy about it. We'd better do some work, or Claymore will drop by and turn us into polecats."

They spent what was left of the morning reviewing the information obtained from the previous day's investigations, sneaked out for an extended lunch break, then returned to their desks. "Did you get Ashford's sales reports from Don?" she asked as a thought struck her.

"Ah, yes, I'd forgotten about them." He rummaged among the paperwork on his desk, and threw over a selection of duplicated notes. "Here we are. They'd done business together a few times, but Arkwright wasn't a big customer. Arnold didn't even have a picture of him to show Farley. I suppose he was only looking for unusual creatures, and the bulk of Ashford's trade is in the common ones people usually want - Crups, Puffskeins, Kneazles, the occasional winged horse or Hippogriff, things like that."

"Right," said Tonks, glancing down the list. "Let's see ... Ashford sold him a school of Plimpys, whatever they are - oh, some kind of fish apparently. A jarvey ... I remember those, like foul-mouthed ferrets, they're nothing much to worry about. And ... well, well, well, a breeding pair of Snidgets. Managed to get a licence to sell them somehow. That set Arkwright back a fair few Galleons. Seems to be it though. Oh, apart from the cages and stuff."

"Cages?"

"Cages for large creatures, 'magically reinforced and fully guaranteed' apparently. Sold in job lots of a dozen. Couldn't have been that much good if his dragon got out of them."

"Maybe he should ask for his money back," Cassius chortled. "He could probably use some after the fine they slapped on him."

Tonks looked up as a thought struck her. "Does everything Ashford sells go through his books?"

Cassius looked at her sharply. "You mean, might he have sold things illegally? Good question. We didn't find anything to suggest that he traded on the black market, but he's a fairly ruthless businessman. Donnacha said his impression of him was that he's not the type to risk a successful legitimate company for a small illegal profit on the side, but might consider it if the amount of money involved was large enough."

"Right. Technically, Ashford and Arkwright aren't part of our case, are they? Do we do anything else with regard to looking into them?"

Cassius shrugged. "Another good question. I'll go and see what Donnacha and Arnold are planning to do. Maybe we can team up with them; there's bound to be a lot of overlap, after all. See you tomorrow, Tonks." He turned back towards her as he walked away. "Oh, and if you feel like a drink after work - ask someone younger this time!"

Tonks grinned to herself as she turned back to her desk and a couple of memos zoomed into her cubicle in-tray. Hey, at least the boozing session made Cassius feel welcome again! That wasn't a bad idea, was it?

"That's not a bad idea, Tonks." She jumped at the voice behind her and spun round in her chair. It was Bentley Williamson, wearing what she could only describe as his most irritating smirk.

"What isn't?" she asked, somewhat confused by the way he'd echoed her thought.

"Asking someone younger for a drink after work. Me, for example. Young, charming, devastatingly handsome, and most importantly, available." He grinned at her.

Tonks was saved from the need to make an immediate reply by the loud giggles that broke out behind him. Williamson turned sharply, revealing Rhiannon Davies fighting to keep a straight face. "Sorry, Ben," she said. "But I think I just won my bet with Ellie on how long it would take you to ask young Tonks here out. She thought it'd be at least another couple of weeks, I said you couldn't be that subtle if you tried."

"Well thanks for that, Rhi," said Williamson, evidently ruffled. "If you'd let me in on the secret, I'd have asked earlier and you could have lumped on the Galleons."

Tonks snorted. "Actually, he did ask me earlier," she said. "Last week. You could have collected already."

Davies shook her head in mock reproach. "Oh, Ben," she said. "So soon? Didn't your daddy ever tell you that no girl finds desperation like that attractive?"

"I get enough to tide me over," said Williamson with as much dignity as he could muster in the face of renewed giggling from both women. "And you might notice that young Dora here hasn't actually said yes or no yet."

Tonks swallowed her final giggle and shook her head. "Sorry, Ben, but I reckon I'd be better off dating a jarvey. It'd make more intelligent conversation." She couldn't resist adding, "And it's probably better looking," which brought more giggles from Davies.

Williamson scowled, but clearly realised that the best he was going to achieve at this point was to retire as gracefully as possible. "Well, it seems that neither of you girls know a good thing when you see one," he said with mock sorrow. "Pity. Still, you know where to find me if you change your mind." Tonks had to give him credit for panache as he strode back to his cubicle, but it still didn't make her inclined to take him up on his offer.

Rhiannon Davies looked at her. "He's not a bad lad, you know," she said fairly. "Just lets his ego get ahead of him sometimes."

"I know," said Tonks. "It's not that he's really bad looking or anything, but I mean ... oh, maybe if he deflates his head a bit I'd think about it. No, make that deflates his head a lot. And calling me Dora doesn't exactly help his chances much. Anyway, never mind, did you want to tell me something?"

"Oh yes, my dear. How would you like a temporary job?"

"Tempor ... you mean the World Cup?!"

Rhiannon grinned. "I had a word with Mr Ludo Bagman, and he practically leapt at the chance to add you to the roster. I'd love to say this was entirely down to my feminine wiles, but he told me that Crouch man in International Magical Co-operation has been sending memos round saying he wants to boost the security presence. Wants as many Aurors as he can get. Apparently his office are going to be contacting Claymore directly as well to ask who he can spare. I wouldn't fancy being the poor sod who does that."

Tonks dismissed the problems of the Department of International Magical Co-operation with a wave of her hand. The news that she'd get to see the World Cup Final live was far more interesting. "Rhiannon! That's just great! Who will I be working with?"

"Me, with any luck. I asked Ludo to put you on my team; said you'd only just started work here, and you were still learning and not doing anything important yet." She held a hand up placatingly when Tonks squawked in protest. "I know, I know, Cassius has got a bee in his bonnet about this Liquor stuff, and I suppose he could be right. You'll have to go and work on it if anything breaks, but otherwise you're supposed to help us make sure the spectators don't actually riot. Can't see that being too much of a problem. We'll have to watch the match from ground level, but hey, we're in!"

"Brilliant!" Tonks suppressed an urge to dance across the floor of the Auror offices as Claymore passed by, escorting a young red-headed man towards his office. That jogged her memory. "Hey, Rhiannon," she said, "I've been meaning to ask you - who's the bloke in the Muggle police uniform you were showing around? There wasn't anything from you about it on the daily bulletin."

"You read that? Wow, I'll have to be more conscientious, I didn't know anyone bothered." She chuckled, then quickly sobered up. "You wouldn't have seen anything on there about the developments on that case, because there haven't been any. I've been able to give him a few hints about where to look, but we're basically just waiting for something to happen. Not fun."

Tonks felt her jaw drop again. "You mean he's a real Muggle detective? What on earth was he doing in here?"

"Liaising." It appeared to dawn on her that Tonks really didn't have any idea what she was talking about. "Sorry, I thought you'd have seen it if you read the bulletins. To put it bluntly, someone's been killing a Muggle a month for the last year or so, and I'm afraid it looks like it's a wizard doing it." She paused to scowl. "He, or she, tortures them first, then brands some kind of sign onto them before they kill them. Very unpleasant, and we have absolutely no idea who's doing it or what their sadistic little symbol means."

Tonks whistled. "Yeuch. How come I haven't seen this in the Prophet, then?"

"Because you probably don't read short paragraphs on page 29," said Davies bitterly. "And that's all the Prophet will bother to print when it's only Muggles getting killed. I suppose that might help though, we're trying to avoid 'letting the killer find out how much we know about the case' which for the record is approximately sod all. We managed to persuade the Muggle police to assign this Superintendent Nelson to the case; luckily he's got a cousin whose kid went to Hogwarts so he already knew about magic. I'm working on the case from our end, and he's telling them I'm a 'psychic' if anyone asks what I'm doing there."

"You're a Seer?" enquired Tonks, curiously. She'd always found the stories of Seers - real ones, anyway - quite impressive. "Seriously?"

"No of course not, you idiot, don't be daft. I've got to have some cover story though, haven't I?"

"Ah. I suppose if you were, nobody would makes bets with you about my love life. Which for the record, is also at the moment approximately sod all. It'll keep." Tonks glanced around at her desk; she really wasn't in the mood for re-reading the same reports for the third time. She picked up the memos, but they weren't important enough to warrant more than a quick glance, simply noting a redesigned expenses claim form and the date when tickets for the Ministry Halloween Ball would go on sale. "Oh, stuff this for today, Rhiannon. It's nearly five o'clock. Coming?"

"Yeah. It's been a long day."

They strolled down the corridor together past the daily hurricane and took the lifts to the Atrium, into the usual bustle of dozens of Ministry wizards and witches going home after work. Tonks glanced up as she bumped into someone; then froze, looking at a witch on the other side of the foyer who was standing in line for one of the Floo fireplaces.

"Rhiannon," she said urgently, pointing at the witch, "Who's she?"

"Her?" Davies stared at Tonks in bemusement as the witch stepped into the flames and vanished, too far away for Tonks to hear what her destination was. "Haven't a clue, some Ministry official by the look of her. Why?"

"Because I've seen her before. Coming out of an alcove at the Transfigured Toad."