Nymphadora Tonks and the Liquor of Jacmel

11. Make Me An Offer

Thursday August 13^th 1994

Diagon Alley the following lunchtime was its usual packed self. Tonks strolled casually past all the places she knew well - Gringotts Wizarding Bank, Flourish and Blotts, Florian Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour - as did a cosmopolitan crowd that today contained hundreds of foreign wizards, clearly here for the World Cup and taking in the sights beforehand.

In her role as Beatrice Easton, Tonks felt as much of a stranger among the familiar landmarks as any of them.

She edged her way through the jostling crowds towards the corner leading down to Knockturn Alley to find the Transfigured Toad, which was a place of which she'd seen more in a short space of time than she'd ever really wanted. She could feel her heart beating rapidly, and was annoyed to notice that she felt far more nervous than on the previous occasions she'd visited the place. Probably because I'm not just making it up as I go along this time, she decided. I'm supposed to be a real person, not just a character of my own invention.

She hesitated for a moment outside the familiar door; as she glanced up at the sign; the wizard and his transfiguree seemed (doubtless only to her currently overactive imagination) to be gazing at her with curled lips. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Cassius, waiting around to follow the man she was meeting when they came out of the pub (and handily placed if she needed any backup, should it come to that). She shook herself briefly, gathered her wits and stepped though the doors.

The landlord nodded at her in recognition as she approached the bar, barely troubling to take a slightly derisive expression off his face. "Ah, good afternoon, madam," he said. "Pumpkin and tomato juices with tonic and a dash of lime, wasn't it?"

"Yes, please," said Tonks. Good. He recognises me - or rather, he recognises her. First obstacle successfully negotiated. She watched carefully as he mixed the drink - the Toad wasn't the kind of place where you wanted to consume anything that you hadn't seen being made. She handed over some Sickles and Knuts and took it over to a vacant table, where she surreptitiously prodded it with the poison tester from her knife, concealed in her hand. Fortunately, it was perfectly drinkable - or at any rate, not poisoned.

She sipped at it gingerly; she'd actually had to practice drinking this revolting concoction favoured by Beatrice Easton without grimacing. At least it wasn't alcoholic, and therefore wouldn't prevent her from keeping a clear head. It wasn't too bad once you got used to it, apart from the taste.

She glanced around with a nervous expression; partly because that was what Mrs Easton would have done, and partly because, well, she was nervous. The pub was not especially crowded today, but the patrons that were there looked as dubious as ever. She fought back an urge to look back at them challengingly when they stared at her - that definitely wasn't what her alter ego would have done. Judging from her behaviour over the last few days, it was more likely she'd only just have managed to avoid bursting into tears.

The doors opened and a wizard stood framed in the doorway; Tonks couldn't make out his face, especially as he had the light behind him, but her heart-rate increased again - that had to be her contact. She put on a relieved expression as he walked over to her table.

"Here to meet me, I presume?" His tone of voice still had the slight mockery that she remembered from listening through the partition the previous week; it put her back up, but she smiled tremulously and nodded. The wizard jerked his head towards one of the alcoves and strode off, Tonks following. She noticed that he didn't bother casting a privacy charm as they settled into the seats. Evidently her guess about the landlord had been correct.

Tonks studied his face as closely as she could, given that she was supposed to have met him on several previous occasions. Most of it was hidden behind a thin scarf that made him look like some kind of bandit (which on reflection, he probably was). All that was really visible was his eyes, greyish-blue and not at all distinctive, and an unshaven lower chin and neck. Apparently he regularly concealed his features like this, even when browsing for books among the more dubious sections of Lore of Yore; Mrs Easton hadn't seen any more of them than Tonks could. She suspected, now that she had a chance to see him close up, that the scarf must be charmed not to slip from his face.

The wizard chuckled at her nastily. "Did it work then?" he asked.

"Well ... sort of," said Tonks tentatively. "I mean ... he was very ... very kind to me last time he came home. I think ... maybe it helped. I don't know." Tonks mentally patted herself on the back for the way she said this. Good! Sounds just like the way she stumbles over her words when she's nervous.

Her companion snorted. "You'll be wanting more then, I suppose?" He reached into a pocket in his robes and pulled out a bottle of pink liquid. "There's about ten doses there. Twenty Galleons to you, missus. Fair enough?"

Tonks looked at the bottle hesitantly. She actually had been given a reasonable budget this time (despite the reluctance of the Department's Financial Wizard), but buying and selling bottles of Love Potion wasn't illegal, despite anything she'd said to Beatrice Easton. She wanted more concrete results if she could.. "Are ... are you sure it'll work? He travels a lot, I don't know ... will it last?"

The wizard gazed at her thoughtfully; Tonks dropped her eyes quickly to avoid giving anything away. Fortunately, that was in character. "How often can you give it to him?"

"Oh ... only when he's home, really. He goes away a lot." That was true enough, and if this wizard really knew anything about Love Potions, he would know that they would be ineffective under those circumstances. The interesting question was whether he would say so or not; his reply would be a good indication what he was most interested in selling.

He took his time before answering. "Lasts two days maybe, three if you're really lucky, not more," he said slowly. "How long does he stay away for?"

"A week, sometimes," said Tonks in a dejected voice. "He sells b- ... he's a salesman, you know." She didn't think Mrs Easton had been foolish enough to tell this wizard any identifying details about herself or her family, and she didn't intend to start now. She stuck her chin up and said in a slightly more defiant voice, "He prefers to stay near to where he's working. Easier access." Again, she hoped that the wizard might interpret this line correctly (or rather, interpret it incorrectly in the way she wanted it interpreted) as being nothing but bravado. Even if Bobby Easton couldn't Apparate, his house was connected to the Floo network, so there was no really convincing reason why he couldn't come home every night if he wanted to.

It seemed to work; he sniggered behind his scarf. "Right, love," he said. "You've got a bit of a problem then. Look, you seem to want hubby kept in line. How badly?"

Ah! The Snitch might just be about to appear here ... OK, this needs to sound like I'm desperate enough to not be thinking clearly. "I ... er ... I really ..." - Tonks made a noise like a suppressed sob - "It ... I just thought if I could ... change his routineyouknowsohegotusedtocomingbackhome." She gabbled the last few words, running them together as if she didn't want to admit to her companion what a mess her home life was. She thought it sounded quite artistic,

"Well, you know what I said last time."

I do? That was something Beatrice wasn't very forthcoming about - she was obviously really embarrassed about it, not keen to repeat it at all. Just bluff your way, girl. Distract him a bit. "Oh, er ... that funny stuff? It's not ... it's not dangerous, is it?"

"Nah," he said patiently. "Used it myself once. Might be a bit iffy if you keep using it for six months straight, but I don't suppose you've got the money to pay for that much anyway, have you?" The mockery was back in his voice.

"No." Tonks dropped her eyes again and hung her head. She wasn't necessarily expecting a discount to be offered this time, but she did want to see what he would do.

"How much would you be willing to pay?" Tonks jerked her head up in surprise. Did he really expect her to be foolish enough to tell him that? Yes. Yes, he probably does. Well, bad luck, mate. "I'm ... I'm not sure," she stammered. "I - I - I mean, wh ... what exactly does it do?"

The wizard looked at her with narrowed eyes. "Gives you control over somebody you give it to, like I told you," he said in an irritated tone.

We have a catch! Chalk up the hundred and fifty! "Com - complete control?"

"Pretty much, yeah. Interested?"

"I ... well ... er ... how much?"

He looked her up and down in a contemplative manner; Tonks flushed and looked away, a reaction she was sure would have been common to both herself and her model. "More than the other stuff. A lot more. Fifteen Galleons a dose. If I can get it. Don't often see it for sale round here."

15 Galleons? That wasn't much less than the 20 the Departmental crib sheet had mentioned as a street price; she was prepared to bet he'd come down a bit - maybe a lot. She let her face fall, a ploy she'd found useful in her trips down Knockturn Alley when she wanted an excuse not to buy. "Oh ... oh dear. I couldn't afford that. I was hoping you'd say ... well, I don't know, five Galleons maybe."

"Five Galleons?!" The wizard snorted so loudly Tonks wouldn't have been surprised if they could hear him in Diagon Alley, regardless of any privacy charms. "You're having a laugh, aren't you? Do you think this stuff grows on trees?"

"But I'd need ... well, quite a lot of it, wouldn't I? Every day?"

He considered her appraisingly. "So you are interested then ... how does twelve sound to you?"

Tonks gulped. Would Beatrice try to beat him down? Maybe. She's probably used to it in the markets, after all. Just remember to be NERVOUS when you're doing it, girl. "E - e - eight?" she said in a quavering manner, attempting to sound like a woman trying, but failing, to keep her voice steady.

The wizard shook his head. "Ten. Final offer, provided you buy at least - oh, let's say fifteen doses. With a bit of luck that could last you a month. Sure you want it?"

What?! You can supply fifteen doses just like that to a woman in a pub? How much of the bloody stuff do you have in stock, mate? She held her head up defiantly, then dropped it again. "I ... yes," she said in a small voice. "Yes, I'm sure."

"Right." He suddenly became very brisk and businesslike. "It'll take me a few days to get it. Meet me here Monday night, nine o'clock. Can you do that? What's hubby up to?"

"Oh ... yes." Tonks was slightly nonplussed by his sharp change in manner now that the deal had been made. Actually, can I? What is her husband doing? On second thoughts, I don't suppose I want to know. "I think I can, er, get away. I'll say I'm at a, a ... Witches Institute meeting."

"Good." He looked at her over his scarf. "Will you be wanting the other stuff, then?"

"Oh. N - no. I - I might, er, need the money." That sounded like a safe answer.

"Yeah, whatever," sneered the wizard. "Always handy for stock, I suppose. OK, let's go." He stood up abruptly, drew back the curtain on the alcove, and waved Tonks out first in an exaggeratedly gentlemanly fashion. She stumbled over her robes again as she left the alcove and nearly fell; the wizard caught her arm and set her straight with a snigger. Tonks stiffened at this, and had to fight down a strong urge to hex him. That definitely wasn't in character.

He briefly caught the eye of a man sitting at a table in a dark corner as they passed - unfortunately Tonks couldn't get a good look at him - and nodded in acknowledgement at some gesture he made. As they parted outside the pub, he waved at her in the same mocking fashion (this was really starting to irritate her by now) and walked away. As she stood blinking in the bright sunlight of Diagon Alley, she could see him head down Knockturn Alley again, with Cassius in tow.

With a sigh, she headed towards the Floo station to return to base, hoping it wouldn't make her feel too queasy after the Easton Special she'd been forced to drink. Unfortunately, Mrs Easton had never learned to Apparate.

*****

A couple of hours or so later, Tonks put the finishing touches to her report on her lunchtime activities, signed it with a flourish, and sat back to look through the accumulated memos in her in-tray. One from Rhiannon Davies confirmed that the members of Squad 14 should meet in the Ministry foyer at 2pm on Saturday, in preparation for a training session at Auror headquarters, and a drinking session at a venue yet to be determined. The daily bulletin had arrived while she was out, and proved to be as dull as ever. A flyer reiterating that tickets for the Ministry Halloween Ball would go on sale on Monday the first of September was more interesting; Tonks winced at the price, but as it sounded like a lot of fun she made up her mind to go if at all possible..

There were also a couple of more directly work-related items. One was from the Auror assigned to the stolen harpsichord case - this turned out to be Eleanor Finchley, the plump witch she'd met on her first day (and who had, apparently, been striking wagers with Davies about Tonks' love life). Finchley reported that she'd compiled a list of collectors known to have purchased expensive antiques of this kind, and placed it in the Auror confidential files, from where it could be viewed via the WEB Access. She also suggested that since Farley's interrogation under Veritaserum had provided unexpected supporting evidence that Liquor of Jacmel was used in the theft, Tonks and Cassius should take a look at the list in case any of the names on it rang a bell.

Tonks read over the memo again with a slightly guilty feeling. She had to admit to herself that in the pressure of recent events, she'd forgotten completely about that use of the potion, and made a mental note to remind Cassius as soon as he came in.

At the bottom of the pile was a requested copy of the new form for recouping expenses, together with several sheets of associated instructions. Tonks groaned as she remembered that she still hadn't got around to claiming her money back for the purchases from Lore of Yore, more than a fortnight ago. She reached into her desk drawer for the books, and started to flick through the long-winded instructions; then decided that at the moment she simply wasn't in the mood to fill out the form to the required level of bureaucratic detail. She gathered up books and forms and tossed them all into a spare corner of her cubicle desk to deal with later.

Cassius arrived back at this point, and waved tiredly as he walked over to meet her. "You first, Tonks," he said. "Did you have any luck in the meeting?"

Tonks smiled to herself. Just a bit, mate. "Well, I couldn't see his face," she said, pretending to look forlorn. "And he offered me another bottle of Love Potion, but that's not illegal." Cassius grimaced. "Oh, and I placed an order for fifteen doses of some potion that gives you complete control of people. Other than that, nothing much happened really."

It took a few seconds for this statement to sink in past Cassius' obvious disappointment. Three, two, one ... "You did what?!" he yelped.

"Got him to offer me something that's either Jacmel, or if it isn't the Haitians should sue him for plagiarism," she said happily. "Reckon that's a result?"

A huge grin spread slowly across Cassius' face. "I think it might just qualify. Tell me more!"

Tonks did, briefly running through what had been said at the Transfigured Toad. "So, Monday's looking like a red-letter day, then," she concluded. "Always assuming he isn't lying through his teeth about being able to get the stuff, of course."

"I don't like this delay much," Cassius said, frowning. "If he has the potion to hand, it shouldn't take him that long to get it? I'd say there's an excellent chance he's only a middleman or a reseller."

"Got to be a big step forward, though," said Tonks brightly. "What did he do after he left the pub? Talk to any suppliers? Looks like you've been chasing him around for a while."

Cassius snorted. "Yes, indeed. In the hottest part of the day. Next time, I wear thinner robes. And to my surprise, it turns out that I'm not as young as I was."

Tonks chuckled. "Yeah, right, I know. Pounding the beat is a young wizard's game. Where did he go, Cassius?"

"Down Knockturn Alley to start with - you probably saw that. Talked to people in several different shops. I made a list of which ones, but I couldn't get close enough to hear what they were saying. Then I had a bit of luck; I heard him call to someone as he came out one of them - actually, I think it was your 'friend' in Wells' shop - that he'd be in the Transfigured Toad again for the next half an hour or so if anybody wanted him."

Cassius sat back, clearly enjoying telling his tale. "Anyway, he Disapparated, so I waited a minute or two and followed suit. When I got into the pub, he was pretty deep in conversation with the landlord. Obviously, though, they stopped talking when I went up to the bar. I sat at one of the nearby tables, and kept looking at my watch as if I was expecting somebody, but they kept their voices down after that. Then the landlord pointed somebody sitting in a corner out to him, and he went and talked to them for a while. I think gold changed hands when they parted, but I was standing outside by that point - I thought it would look far too suspicious if I waited until he left and then followed him."

"How did you see, then?" asked Tonks curiously. "The windows in that place are frosted. And covered in dust, come to think of it."

"One-way transparency charm on the door, useful little spell, I don't know if they teach it much nowadays," said Cassius with a trace of smugness. "Well, I suppose it can be a bit obvious what you're up to when you use it. Unless, of course, you know how to do the variation which makes it only visible - or rather invisible - for the person who cast the spell. One of those old Auror tricks of the trade that come with decades of practice, you see."

"Cool!" said Tonks, considerably impressed.

"I thought so. Unfortunately, that pub's dark, and they were in the far corner, so even then I couldn't be sure exactly what they were doing. Anyway, the fellow came out after a while, and then he toddled off along Diagon Alley and went down one of those little avenues that branch off from it." Tonks nodded; she knew quite a number of the side streets by now. "I didn't dare follow him in straight away, not after he'd seen me at the pub, and unfortunately it's too crowded in the Alley at the moment to get away with Transfiguring your appearance without attracting far too much attention."

"Damn."

"That was my thought exactly. But luckily, it was one of those alleyways that lead into a little yard, and I could see him on the other side through the opening. He went into one of the buildings, but he Disapparated straight away when he came out so I lost him at that point." He grinned. "To be honest, I didn't mind as much as I should have. All that standing around was making my feet hurt."

"What was the building? Any idea?"

He shrugged. "Just a room available for hire, according to the notice on the door. Listed as being available for parties, meetings, and things like that. I took a look through the window; it was dark inside, but there didn't seem to be much in there apart from a bit of old furniture. I suppose that might have been what he was talking about in the corner of the pub."

"True. What about the other people he talked to? Should we be thinking about bringing them in for a 'chat' if they know who he is?"

Cassius smiled. "Not yet. Anyway, if he goes to the trouble of keeping his face hidden - and I think you're probably right about the charm, Tonks, I didn't see his scarf slip once in all the time I was following him - I don't imagine he gives out his real name to most of his contacts. Not many people do when they conduct business in that part of town."

"Fair enough," said Tonks with a touch of chagrin, leaning back against the desk. The sight of the books and forms in the corner reminded her of the harpsichord case memo. "Oh, by the way, that Eleanor Finchley woman wants us to look at a little list she's drawn up? You know, people who might want a rare magic piano thingy and not be too fussy how their supplier got hold of it?"

"Does she?" said Cassius. "Interesting. That's because of the hint in Farley's testimony when we interrogated him, I suppose?" From the way he said it, he obviously hadn't needed to be reminded. Ah. Must be all that experience. He chattered on, oblivious to her chagrined expression. "That was really quite a slice of luck, getting independent confirmation that we were right about Jacmel being used. I wasn't expecting much in the way of progress on that aspect of the case, to be honest. I wouldn't be surprised if the piano's on the Continent or the other side of the Atlantic by now, would you?"

"Yeah, that's pretty much what I thought, too," said Tonks unblushingly. "Let's go look at her list, shall we?"

*****

Fortunately, the WEB Access wasn't in use when they wandered over. Tonks tapped on the frame with her wand, and Gogol appeared right on cue.

"Hi there," she said, throwing herself into one of the chairs. "We were told there was a list of people who collect antique musical instruments recently added to the confidential Auror files? Can you bring it back for us?"

"Certainly, miss," he said. "Do you know who added it?"

"Eleanor Finchley."

"Ah yes, that will be easy. In fact, I remember it now." He tapped his wand on some filing cabinets at one side of the painting. Tonks watched in fascination as the document appeared instantly on the scroll; there were clearly some very powerful charms in action to make all this work. She performed the Scriptorum corporalis spell a couple of times, and handed Cassius a copy of the list as he sank gratefully into the chair next to her with a rueful mutter about his feet..

"Now then," he said, running an eye down the list, "it looks like most of these people are foreigners - Continentals or American, just as I said. This sort of crime tends to be international. I'm sure Eleanor will be liaising with their law enforcement officials, but it's rare we ever catch anyone. Too many ways to smuggle things out, too many gaps between the Ministries for information to fall through."

"Didn't you used to know some of the Americans?" asked Tonks. "You don't have a favour or two you could call in by any chance?"

"Not really," said Cassius dubiously, "it was twenty-odd years ago. I think the chap I knew best has retired now." He looked at the list again. "Not many locals on here. I don't suppose there can be many people with the money to indulge this sort of interest."

Tonks studied the list a bit more carefully, and felt her heart jump slightly. Most of its half-dozen names of wealthy British wizards were unknown to her, but one leapt out from the parchment.

"I see Lucius Malfoy is on the list," she said.

"Young Malfoy?" said Cassius in surprise. "I've never known quite what to make of him. We were as certain as we could be without actual proof that he was a Death Eater; but when we mopped up the suspects after You-Know-Who disappeared, he claimed to have been under Imperius. He passed all the tests, anyway, and as far as I know he's kept his nose clean since then. Lots of charity work and things like that. Blood purist, of course, but that doesn't necessarily mean he's a dark wizard."

"I've never had any doubt that he is," said Tonks quietly.

Cassius looked at her curiously. "You know him, then?"

"He's my uncle." At a inquiring look from her partner, she continued, "By marriage, anyway. My mother's sister, obviously. Actually, my aunt's bearable, although I wouldn't trust her not to have been a You-Know-Who supporter, but Lucius Malfoy ... he never made any secret of his views when talking to family. I'd call him a scumbag - but that would just be an insult to bags filled with scum."

"I see." Cassius visibly hesitated; it had been plain for some time to all concerned that Tonks' extended family was a touchy subject for her. "Even if he is a dark wizard - and we don't have any proof of that," he said carefully, "it doesn't follow that he's the one who placed this order, you know. All it indicates is that he's known to have bought pieces on the open market. I mean, he's rich, and his wife's rich - he can probably afford it even if they're just for show."

"Yeah, and doesn't he know it," said Tonks spitefully. She shook herself; it wouldn't be good to start ranting about these things in front of Cassius again. She made an effort to change the topic slightly. "Who are the rest of them? They don't ring any bells for me."

Cassius threw her a look, but answered readily enough. "Well, I've never heard of Archibald Blackstock, or Tarquin Finch-Fletchley either - good lord, it says he's a Muggle, no wonder."

"He's a what?" Tonks raised her eyebrows. "What would he do with a magical piano - sorry, harpsichord? Where would he ever see one anyway?"

Cassius shrugged. "I suppose he could keep it hidden, or say it was controlled by one of those, er, copmeter things. Must have a wizarding relation." He snickered. "And a fortune big enough to survive the rather poor exchange rates the goblins offer when converting pounds into Galleons."

He looked at the list again and chuckled. "Ah, Auchtermuchty and Strathnaver Kinross ... I've known those two since I was young. They're brothers, members of an old Scottish wizarding family, extremely rich - I believe their ancestors were once lairds. Always absolutely hated each other, very competitive; I imagine if one of them started collecting the other would try to outdo him." He shook his head at Tonks' look of inquiry. "I seriously doubt they would ever get involved with criminals, though, they always had too much concern for the Honour of the Kinrosses."

"Who's this last one, then?" asked Tonks.

"Francis Bletchley? I don't know the first name but I do know the family name. Another old family, I believe they're second or third cousins of mine." He smiled at her. "Well, come to think of it, I suppose most people from the old families are. You'd probably turn out to be my great-great-great-niece or something if we ever bothered to look it up."

Tonks grinned back. "OK, Uncle Cassius. So, nothing much to report to Miss Finchley then?"

"Mrs. But no, I don't think there is, not unless any of the names come up in connection with the case." He looked at the painting again. "I'd suggest you take a look through the rogue's gallery on here to see if you can spot our seller today, but did you see enough of him to tell?"

"Probably not. Mr Gogol, could you show me recent pictures of people with a known criminal record for selling illegal potions or ingredients?"

"Certainly, miss." He disappeared for a moment or two and supplied a stack of wizarding photographs, but although a few of them were recognisable to Tonks from Knockturn Alley, none resembled the wizard she'd just met. She shrugged.

"Worth a try, I suppose. Of course, he may not have a record. Anyway, it's difficult to tell without the scarf."

"I could show you just pictures of young men with face scarves, miss?" said Gogol helpfully.

"Yes, OK." This was much shorter pile, and the faces didn't ring any bells for Tonks, although something was nagging at the back of her mind.

"No luck?" asked Cassius.

"No, I don't recognise th - oh."

"Yes?"

Tonks turned to the portrait. "Mr Gogol - how did you do that?"

"I beg your pardon, miss?" the searchwizard said in confusion.

"How did you find pictures of wizards in scarves particularly? Are they, um, indexed by content or something?"

"Not really, miss, but remember, even as a portrait I retain my original abilities to recognise things in pictures?" He sounded slightly hurt. "Of course, the additional spells on this painting mean that I can search much faster than I could bef-"

Tonks cut him off. "So you can search for pictures matching a certain description, without it having to be catalogued in advance?"

"Yes, miss, we can, although you'll need to give us some idea of where to look," said Gogol happily. "We do keep some record of what's in a picture, but we can't tell if it's exactly what you're looking for, of course."

Tonks glanced at Cassius, who was looking puzzled. "Great! Look, if we show you something, can you find - oh, I don't know, pictures that look like it?"

"We can certainly try, miss."

With a muttered "excuse me" to a startled Cassius, Tonks dashed off to find Cornworthy, skidding to a halt next to his cubicle and knocking a pile a papers over with her elbow. He made a very quick dive to catch them; a few weeks of Tonks' presence had been quite enough to alert the rest of the Aurors that they might need to practice instant damage control whenever she was around.

"Sorry!" she said. "Arnie, can I borrow your Image Projector?"

"Erm ... I suppose so," he said, somewhat nonplussed. "What for?"

"I want to search for that blonde woman Farley saw on the WEB thing."

"Oh." He raised his eyebrows. "Yes, we could have tried that, I suppose, but you do know it doesn't give good results when you're trying to make identifications?" He looked at Tonks gloomily. "We've tried it before, never had much luck. There are plenty of pictures in the Hall, of course, but the searchwizards can't say definitely if it's a particular person unless they knew them before they were a painting. And that's always assuming it's her real appearance. Like I said, she did seem a bit too good to be true."

Tonks wasn't in a pessimistic mood. "Yeah, but we've got Cassius, haven't we? He thought he knew her. All the painting bloke has got to do is find someone Cassius thinks he recognises and we're laughing, aren't we?"

"Well, I suppose ..." he said doubtfully. At any rate, he passed her the recorder without further objection. She thanked him and returned to Cassius, rather more slowly and carefully this time.

She tapped the gadget a few times with her wand until the picture of the woman Farley had seen came up. "OK, this is her," she said to Gogol. "Can you dig out any pictures with people who look a bit like her?" Cassius looked at Tonks with surprise, and some disgruntlement. Apparently this approach hadn't occurred to him either.

The painted wizard pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Yes, miss, but I don't suppose you can tell me where to look to narrow it down a bit?" he said. "I can search for pictures of young blonde women who resemble this one - quite happy to, in fact - but there must be an awful lot of them in the archives. Thousands, I'd say."

"Cassius?" said Tonks. "Any suggestions?"

He blinked and came out of a reverie. "Oh, er, yes," he said hastily. "You might start by looking in the Daily Prophet and the provincial wizarding press over the last five years or so. Most likely it would be in connection with some social function in the North or the Midlands. Can you just bring back a selection of pictures for us to look at while you go and find some more?"

"No problem, sir," said Gogol, who had obviously been one of those librarians who delight in being given a challenge. He reached for a bound volume of Daily Prophets on one of the shelves in the picture itself, flipping through them at such a speed Tonks realised it had to be due to the magical enhancement. He tapped a number of pages with his wand, and gradually a stack of pictures appeared on the table next to him. When it had reached a height of about a foot, he brought them back to the foreground of the painting

"Just take a look through these, sir." He fixed the first one into the scroll, and disappeared again into the depths of the Hall of Records.

Cassius and Tonks went through the set of pictures carefully, but as far as they could tell none of them appeared to be the woman they were looking for. However, by the time they'd reached the bottom of the pile, Gogol was back with another stack, and soon after yet another. It was half-way through the fifth pile that Cassius let out a cry of triumph.

"Ha!" He enlarged the picture currently being displayed, a group portrait of some kind of formal dinner party, and pointed to a woman in the second row. "That's her! I'm sure of it!"

Tonks looked closely at the woman's picture and compared it with the one on Cornworthy's image projector. "It does look like her, doesn't it?" she said, with mounting excitement. "Who is she?"

Cassius read the details off the accompanying caption. "Portia Blackstock, daughter of ... Archibald and Vanessa Blackstock," he said.

"Blackstock?" cried Tonks.

"Blackstock. Daughter of Archibald Blackstock. Well." They exchanged almost awed glances. "That's all it says, but I'm practically sure that's the young woman I've seen before. Mr Gogol!"

The searchwizard's head popped into view from behind a shelf. "Yes?"

"Can you cross-reference your search with the name Portia Blackstock?"

"Of course, sir!" He vanished again, returning in short order with another pile of papers. Tonks flicked through and pointed out one of them.

"Look!" It was another photograph, of the attendees at another formal dinner on behalf of a charity to assist distressed Muggle-borns and half-bloods who had fallen on hard times, dated a few years before. Portia Blackstock was there with her parents, in the front row this time, and near one end of the third row of the photograph was a wizard who was unmistakeably Cassius. Tonks performed the copying spell and Cassius picked up the printed report and read it carefully.

"This is definitely it, Tonks," he said, with growing conviction. "I can remember this dinner now. My wife - that's her next to me - was a strong supporter of this charity, and this was their big annual fundraising occasion." Tonks looked more closely at the woman next to Cassius in the picture. Yes, she remembered her from the photos in Cassius' cubicle, although surprisingly in the photograph she looked older than him.

His brows knit. "It was up in Birmingham - yes, look, it says so here. They hired a room for the evening at a local hall, put Muggle-Repelling Charms on it, and brought in house-elves to wait on the tables. This Miss Blackstock, let me think - she was on my table, opposite side, about three seats down. Her parents were some sort of bigwigs in the local magical community."

"What was she like?" asked Tonks with interest.

"Well, now I think of it," said Cassius reflectively, "she appeared to be quite a nice girl. I remember her as chatting away quite pleasantly to everyone all night. I'd never have pictured her in somewhere like the Transfigured Toad, let alone doing something like this."

Tonks coughed. "You wouldn't be letting her ... um, appearance influence you, would you?"

Cassius looked annoyed, but only for a moment. "Well, I might be, I suppose. Not that seeming decent necessarily means a lot. Some of the nastiest villains I ever put away could be absolute charmers when they put their minds to it."

He turned to Gogol again and clapped his hands. "Mr Gogol. Please give me everything you can find on the Blackstock family of Birmingham. Let's see if we can get to the bottom of this."

Gogol obliged, but unfortunately 'everything' in this case turned out not to be very much. Tonks skimmed through the results; the Blackstocks appeared almost exclusively in the commercial and social reports. They were nouveau riche, Archibald Blackstock's father apparently having been a Muggle-born wizard who had made a fairly sizeable amount of money, first as a supplier of cauldrons, robes and other paraphernalia, then as an inventor of handy gadgets.

The business was still going strong, but his son seemed to be attempting to live down the fact that he was a half-blood by involving himself in charitable work, the organisation of local events, and general largesse. He'd made it onto Finchley's list because he'd purchased an antique enchanted piano from a dealer for the use of his wife, who was from a good pureblood family. There were no known underworld connections, although that was hardly conclusive.

Tonks looked sideways at Cassius. "Well?" she said. "Does this mean there's a link?"

"I don't know, Tonks," he said helplessly. "I ... I just don't know. I honestly didn't expect to get anything from Eleanor's list, let alone a possible connection. It could be pure coincidence of course - it's a small world - but we can't assume that, can we?"

"I guess not." Tonks looked at the sheets of parchment; this was beginning to make her head hurt. "Are things always this confusing?" she asked plaintively. "I'm starting to think I should have stuck to something easier, like flobberworm farming."

Cassius laughed. "Oh, usually cases turn out either to be really easy - like when we talked to our friend Beatrice - or else you get absolutely nowhere. As I thought this was going to. I suppose you just got lucky, Tonks, and got an interesting bean first pick out of the box."

"Lucky. Not sure that's quite the word for it, mate. Interesting, yes."

"Oh, I don't know. More fun than spending your first couple of years on the job chasing anti-Muggle pranksters, wouldn't you say? That's what I was doing most of the time."

He selected a number of the references Gogol had found and ran off printed versions of them. "I'd better get these over to Donnacha and Arnold." He stood up, then paused for a moment with an unreadable expression on his face. "You know, it never occurred to me to use this thing to look for pictures? I guess I might be getting past it after all."

"Cassius ..." said Tonks, gently; but he just walked away, shoulders slumped.