Nymphadora Tonks and the Liquor of Jacmel

20. The Theatre of Dreams

Monday 24^th August 1994

When Tonks woke up, it took her a moment to realise that she'd done so without the benefit of the alarm. She smiled to herself as she checked the time, a satisfactory eight o'clock. In the other bed, Rhiannon Davies was still asleep; Tonks briefly debated with herself whether she should tease her companion with a loud "Rise and shine!" but decided it would be kinder to let her sleep. And more fun when she woke up and realised that her feeble trick hadn't worked.

Tonks dressed quickly and stepped out to survey the field. It looked like it was shaping up to be another fine day. As the campers began to stir, it was possible to almost feel the excitement, as people got up and realised that the waiting was nearly over and tonight really was the Quidditch World Cup Final. She smiled happily as she took in the activities of interest around the site.

Nearby, a group of Irish supporters were doing an impromptu jig to the tune of a fiddle played by one of their number (or at least, he was making an acceptably good show of pretending to move the enchanted bow all by himself). By contrast, a small group of teenage Continental witches were doing a peculiar dance to music from a Muggle radio, which seemed to involve jumping from side to side with their feet together. Over on the other side of the field by the taps, a teenage boy was waving to a pretty girl and spilling the water he was carrying, to the obvious amusement of his friends. A portly wizard strode past; his enormous handlebar moustache would easily have been his most impressive feature if it hadn't been for his purple skin. In the section of tents set aside for those with cheaper seats, a wide-eyed girl with straggly blonde hair was chattering away to a man Tonks took to be her father, as he was smiling indulgently at her almost madly excessive enthusiasm. And closer to home, noises from the next tent indicated that Chesney Thompson and Will Poppleford were stirring.

Tonks chuckled and helped them on their way by pointing her wand through the flap and making it emit a loud bang! like a firecracker. Muffled cursing indicated that they'd got the point.

"What time is it?" came a bleary voice from inside the tent.

"About 8.15," called Tonks.

The cursing returned, much louder this time. Tonks, realising that quarter past eight didn't really qualify as much of a lie-in, decided to get out of the way in case they turned into real curses. It dawned on her after about half an hour's strolling around that it wasn't much different to her security job. She shrugged. This time she wasn't worried what people were doing, she was just aimlessly playing tourist. She followed the path through the woods to the stadium, intending to have a good long look without crowds around. When she reached the end, she caught her breath.

Although the information packs and advertising blurbs had said the stadium was big, when seen close up the word big somehow failed to convey sufficient depth of meaning, like the word dangerous was an inadequate description of an angry dragon. The golden walls were almost blinding in the bright morning sunlight, and Tonks could feel her jaw dropping slightly as she walked around taking it all in.

She walked into one of the entrances without any clear idea in mind, other than to take a closer look at the elaborately worked crests of world Quidditch teams that were lining the walls of a small foyer, only to find herself being stopped by a harassed-looking little wizard.

"Hey, you can't come in here!" he said fussily. "Ministry organisers and security staff only!"

"Oh, er, I am security staff," said Tonks hastily, putting on a placating sort of smile. She dug into her Muggle jeans for her ID and held it out for the security wizard to see, trying not to look embarrassed at the way it had got battered in her pocket. He sniffed at its appearance, but after tapping it with his wand a few times and muttering some incantations, seemed mollified when it remained exactly the same.

"Very well, Miss ... ah, Auror Tonks" - he noticed her job description on the document and looked quite impressed - "you're allowed to be here, then. What did you want?"

"Ah, well ..." She hadn't wanted anything in particular, but felt the need to make up some sort of story that wouldn't have him looking down his nose at her again. "I thought ... I'd take a look at the stadium before I had to go on duty tonight, you know, get the feel for where I was supposed to be?"

"Oh, excellent idea," he said happily. "Where are you stationed?"

"Er, actually, I haven't seen the map, I'm not sure where in the stadium it is," said Tonks, suddenly realising that she didn't have that information. "Do you have one? We're Squad 14."

"Of course, of course," he said, pulling a large key out of his robes and opening a door on his right with it. Tonks raised her eyebrows as she poked her head inside to see a surprisingly large control room like the one in the Ministry, with security maps of the stadium on the walls. Tonks grinned to herself; for all this wizard's fussiness about ID, he hadn't checked her very thoroughly. She thought idly that if she hexed him now, she could probably morph herself into a reasonable likeness and go wherever she wanted in the stadium under his ID. The grin faded as she considered the implications.

"Here we go, here we go," said the wizard, to whom these thoughts had apparently not even occurred. "It's so nice to see someone as young as yourself being this responsible, Auror. Most people your age would just slack off whenever they had the chance."

"Oh, quite," said Tonks with a straight face (it was generally easier to keep one if you were a Metamorphmagus). "Erm ... should you really be showing me this?"

"No problem, you've got an ID, haven't you?" Yes, mate, but so what? It wasn't like you asked for a password, or performed an Identity Spell or anything. One of the first things taught in their training had been the danger of identity documents as a single-point-of-failure security risk. People tended to think everything was OK once they saw an ID, so an attacker who successfully faked one could get far more access than they should.

Tonks hesitated. Her real name would appear on the map, but he'd opened the door before having the chance to check it. As a very junior member of staff, it probably wasn't her place to make a fuss about lax security. Surely there had to be hidden protections she wasn't meant to be aware of? Otherwise, for all she knew, an ex-Death Eater could sneak in the Top Box and have access to the Boy Who Lived (but probably wouldn't much longer if they had anything to do with it).

"You will be stationed here," said the wizard, oblivious to this, indicating a point about a quarter of the way along the pitch from one of the goal hoops.

Tonks brightened; a pretty good place for viewing the match, then. "Got it."

"Would you like me to show you how to get there? You're currently here."

Tonks looked for the dot bearing her own name and found it, next to someone with the prosaic name of Arnold Smith. She realised that she'd also been guilty of an assumption - that he had a right to be there and challenge her presence - and decided to let the security concerns go. Presumably somebody would watch the VIP sections on one of these maps, so if a dark wizard did try to get in the Top Box, he'd need to have the same name as someone meant to be there. Or get an invitation from the Minister, she thought nastily, but brushed off these disquieting concerns.

"Right," she said hesitantly, as she looked at the map and tried to memorise the maze of twisty little passages, all alike, that led between her current location and the exit to the pitch. She failed dismally. "Thanks, Mr Smith. Yes, perhaps you had better show me."

She followed him into the bowels of the stadium, hoping that she'd be able to find her way out again. When he threw open the last door, the change from dim torchlight to bright sunlight temporarily dazzled her. She stepped through, looked around, and caught her breath.

"Well, Auror Tonks, what do you think of it?" said Smith with a touch of quiet pride. "We've been working on this all year. I think we've managed to make it rather impressive, haven't we?"

"No kidding, mate," she murmured. If the stadium had looked impressive from outside, that was nothing to how it looked once you were inside. Tonks, despite herself, felt slightly overawed. She gulped. "Could I ... er, take a look around? It's amazing."

Smith smiled happily. "Yes, yes, of course, it's a real ... well, 'Theatre of Dreams' as our younger workers have started to call it. Please do, but you'd better check in with the central security team." He pointed to a small group clustered around a table in the middle of the pitch.

Oh, right, there actually is one? That's reassuring, then. "Yes, I will. Thank you, Mr Smith." She gave him a genuine smile this time and crossed the pitch towards the security table. To her relief, she recognised a woman standing there as a senior Auror, seen in passing at the office. She grinned, signed Tonks in, and pretended to believe her story about wanting to check her working conditions.

"Better take a good look around then," she said with a wink. "You might need to know what everything looks like."

Tonks grinned back at her and went off to take a tour of the stadium. Even the cheaper seats appeared to be quite comfortable, nothing like the plastic buckets at the football grounds her father had taken her to a few times when she was a kid. Absolutely everything structural seemed to be made of pure gold, with all walkways covered with soft purple carpet. Tonks realised subconsciously that it had probably all been done with powerful Aurum Charms and temporary fixing spells on Transfigured flooring, but it was still highly impressive and must have cost an unbelievable number of Galleons.

A few broomsticks and a slightly battered Quaffle lying on the ground near a set of doors caught her eye, and she wandered over to look. The brooms were old models; she guessed they might be for the use of the staff checking the alignment of the goal hoops. She was about to move on when it dawned on her what the doors were; they were the exit from the changing rooms. In a few hours time Troy, Moran, Krum and the rest would be flying out of them ready to start the Final.

Tonks hesitated and glanced around. No-one seemed to be looking in her direction. She vacillated, and began to walk away; but realised immediately that she was unlikely to get such an opportunity to live out a childhood dream again. And it wasn't as if she was planning to damage anything ...

She quickly grabbed one of the brooms and ducked into the tunnel; she morphed her appearance (to be on the safe side), and Transfigured her Muggle clothes into a reasonable facsimile of England Quidditch robes. She was confident enough in her Transfiguration ability not to worry about whether the change would last as long as it needed to. It would be embarrassing if it didn't.

Then she picked up the Quaffle and flew out of the tunnel, imagining herself to be a Chaser flying out for the World Cup Final. She'd done so many a time on her toy broom as a child, but lack of Quidditch talent had put paid to any ideas she might have had of making even the House team. Still, as a kid I never had such convincing props, did I? She went on a slow loop around the stadium, pretending she could hear the roar of the crowd, and grinning slightly shamefacedly at how childish she was being. Then she stopped, pointed the broom, and rocketed towards the goalposts. She took careful aim, hurled the Quaffle at the centre hoop, and couldn't restrain a whoop of triumph as it flew through, only clipping the ring slightly as it went in.

"Oh very good Miss Tonks." A booming voice magnified by a Sonorus charm startled her, nearly making her fall off. She spun round in midair and saw a new wizard at the security table, standing arms crossed looking up at her. Crimson with embarrassment, she flew down slowly, morphing back (the change obviously hadn't fooled him) and trying to compose an excuse.

As she landed, she recognised the wizard. It was Dawlish. Oh great. He pointed his wand at his throat and muttered "Quietus," then gazed at her sternly.

"Erm, I was just, well, ..." She trailed off. It was blindingly obvious what she'd been doing, after all.

He held her gaze for a little while, then the edges of his mouth quirked with definite amusement. "Don't worry," he said in his clipped voice. "By my count, you're the thirty-fourth person to do that so far this year." He smiled at her look of relief. "About time you went back, though."

***

Once Tonks found her way out, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and sheer exhilaration, a glance at her watch showed her she would be cutting it very fine for her shift, even if she ran back along the path. She hesitated a moment, then, mentally kicking herself as she remembered that the whole wood was a designated Apparation point, she stopped, concentrated, and covered most of the distance between the stadium and the site in a fraction of a second. She breathed a sigh of relief as she made it back just in time, grabbed a worried-looking Chesney and set off on patrol.

To her surprise, Cassius was waiting for her outside the tents when they got back, chatting to Will Poppleford about Arkwright the amateur zookeeper. She grinned at him and raised her eyebrows inquiringly. "Didn't expect to see you here working, Cassius."

He blinked, then smiled. "Well, I didn't feel like camping out at my age. So I decided, why not stay at home and just Apparate in on the day? How's security duty going? Caught anyone sneaking into the stadium and doing something they shouldn't yet?"

"Er, no. Anything interesting happening?" she asked quickly.

"Nothing much, I'm afraid. Although William here was just telling me about the conditions the Wizengamot laid down as part of the deal that kept that Arkwright chap out of Azkaban. One of them was that the Magical Creatures department would make periodic inspections of his house and grounds, to make sure he wasn't keeping anything he wasn't supposed to. It might be worth our while to tag along on the next one and keep out eyes and ears open."

"What is he allowed to keep?" Tonks asked Poppleford with interest.

"Well, anything that doesn't actually eat people, I suppose," he replied with a shrug. "No, hang on, come to think of it, I'm wrong. The judgement said he was supposed to get permission for any magical creature he wanted to keep." He sniggered. "Probably doesn't have much more than a few Kneazles around any more. If I remember right, I think he asked to breed fancy Hippogriffs, but they even turned him down on that. Wasn't too happy about it back then, but from the gossip I heard, he wasn't quite so venomous about your Ashford bloke last time we talked to him."

"Right." Tonks hesitated, but couldn't see any way of discussing what she wanted to with Poppleford around. "Er, show you the tent, Cassius?"

"Oh, good idea," he said, cottoning on quickly. "I wondered what you girls were being forced to live in. If you'll excuse us, William, and, er, Chesney? ... I'll just take a look to see if they're treating my staff well."

"Or in other words, you want to talk about meeting Charlie yesterday, and don't want us to overhear anything confidential," said Chesney, laughing. "Go on, don't mind us. We'll just put our feet up for a bit before tonight."

"Right. Good." Tonks didn't like being so transparent, but it made things easier. She led Cassius into the kitchen; although she'd expected to find Rhiannon there, she wasn't particularly surprised that she wasn't. Cassius' mouth twitched.

"Well, I take it your companion left us to ... consult with another mutual colleague," he said tactfully, as they took seats at the table. "I should have told her I was dropping by. Anyway, the main thing is for us to compare notes. I gather you've been talking to some people we're interested in?"

"Exactly." Tonks quickly summarised her conversation with the Ashford cousins, and for a bit of light relief described her encounter with the Hallendales. Cassius frowned.

"Oh dear. I'll have to have a quiet word with young Angelica." He smiled deprecatingly. "I get the feeling that she - and her husband - never exactly played according to the conventional rules. I imagine it would alarm that son of hers quite a bit."

"Only when I threatened him with jail."

"Really? I wouldn't be surprised. She said the other son - Clark - has been in the cells a few times."

"He has?" said Tonks, taken aback.

"Yes ... Apparently he used to get into fights a lot. Only he wasn't very good at fighting spells, so he usually lost, and ended up getting hurt as well as falling foul of the Patrol. Reading between the lines, I'd say his father's death must have hit him badly, but she wouldn't talk about that much."

"I see." Tonks considered asking how Cassius had got her to explain all this in the first place, but put it aside as not really her concern. "Anyway, what do you think about Charlotte Perks and the rest of them? A little oversensitive, is she? Ashford safe or not?"

Cassius paused for thought. "He should be for the moment. And to be fair - which we don't necessarily have to be in this business, of course - there isn't any actual evidence against them. It's just that they're obvious suspects." He scowled. "In particular, we haven't found a connection with this Blackstock girl, who I freely admit is a puzzle to me."

"She couldn't have been Mickey's girlfriend, could she? The one he split up with?"

Cassius smiled. "Nice try, Tonks, but Donnacha and Arnold already thought of that possibility. Of course, they haven't had time to talk to everybody who might know them, or investigate every potential connection with the other suspects, but no-one reported seeing them together, not once. In fact no-one can remember Portia ever having had a boyfriend, other than one or two dates approved by her parents as potential suitors with a view to making a good match."

Tonks grimaced. "Ugh. Blackstock's really going the high society route, isn't he? My mother's lot have been marrying their kids off to 'good blood' for generations. Half the time that meant their cousins. I suppose I'm lucky I only change shape instead of having two heads."

"Their 'lot' were my family's lot as well," Cassius reminded her quietly. Tonks blanched.

"Sorry."

"That's all right," he said with dignity. "Although you're right, it is silly. But that's the way elites anywhere tend to behave."

"I suppose." She leaned back in her chair. "He's not likely to have much luck catching a nice respectable boy from a good family for her, is he? The real pure-bloods don't like social climbers."

"Oh, I don't know," said Cassius with a slight smile. "Considerable beauty often wins a man over, whatever his supposed views on ancestry. I ... well, I've seen it happen many a time. Look at the Hallendales for a start." He paused for a moment. "And if you want to be technical, Portia Blackstock is classed as pure-blood. She only has Muggle ancestry in her great-grandparents."

"Wouldn't have been far back enough for the Blacks," Tonks pointed out.

"Well no, but they were always very strict, weren't they?" Cassius replied with obvious embarrassment. "I suppose my family were fairly strict, but it wasn't an article of faith for them, just a ... a social viewpoint. They thought marrying into Muggle blood was dreadfully common, but they didn't consider it obscene." He smiled tentatively. "How did we get on to this subject, anyway?"

"Sorry," said Tonks again. She knew why; the subject just kept rearing its ugly head recently - whether it was her unexpected run-in with her cousin, Angelica Hallendale's comment about Azkaban, or Charlotte Perks talking about her parents. She could see she was in danger of starting to have a bee in her bonnet about it again. I have got to stop this.

"So, er, any possible connection between the Blackstocks and the Ashfords yet?" she said, attempting to bring the conversation back to the safer ground of their case.

Cassius shook his head. "Nothing that seems important. I think Mackenzie Ashford contributes quite generously to the same charity as they do - you know, the one with the annual dinner where I saw Portia? - but that's not much of a connection. Portia is supposed to do a bit of volunteer work for them, very worthy sort of activities for the socially ambitious. I'm not sure if the younger Ashfords ever had much contact with it. Arnold's monitoring the situation, anyway; he's got Patrol people working on it."

"How's Mackenzie Ashford doing?" The last she'd heard, he was more or less confined to his home.

"Arnold tells me he's feeling a bit edgy these days. Must be hard on the poor fellow, really. I don't think he likes keeping his nephew and nieces at arm's length, he more or less brought them up, after all. It's just that they could be the ones trying to do him in." He sighed, with a sort of sympathetic frown on his face. "He's a good businessman, he can see the sense in it even if it goes against his family feelings. 'Follow the money' is usually a good principle for Auror work, although it's not always the answer. And even if they are involved, I don't see what they can do at the moment."

"I suppose not. You might have a chance to talk to the Blackstocks tonight, perhaps?"

"If I can - probably only in passing, though. I suppose I could bring up the charity as a conversation starter. Wouldn't it be nice to be able to go round there officially and do proper interviews without worrying that we might be stepping on someone's toes?" He snorted. "We wouldn't be tiptoeing around the case like this with someone who didn't know the Minister for Magic. I'm telling you, Tonks, if we don't get any further with this case in the next couple of weeks, I'm going to do it anyway, and damn the consequences if he complains to his friends. It's not like I have any particular career ambitions left. I fulfilled all those first time around."

Tonks smiled. "Well I've barely even started with mine. But if you ever want to get into a fight with them, I'll be perfectly willing to hold your coat."

*****

The tension and excitement around the campsite continued to build throughout the day. The members of Squad 14 tried valiantly to pretend that their own nervousness was solely due to the need to keep order, but eventually just gave up and admitted they were as eager to see the game as anyone else. Rhiannon explained they were supposed to be in position before the rush started, so it was no use just waiting for the gong to sound. Finally, she checked her watch for about the fourteenth time, looked up, and said, "It's time."

Everyone jumped up without hesitation. Chesney caught Tonks' eye and they grinned at each other. "Can we Apparate there?" he asked.

"Best not," replied Rhiannon after a slight pause. "Keep up appearances to the end, look you? Bring your robes and we'll change there."

As they made their way towards the wood, it was obvious that few campers were concerned with anti-Muggle security. Rhiannon Davies bit her lip indecisively as they crossed the field, as their path took them past many souvenir vendors selling blatantly magical merchandise. Nevertheless, she kept moving, muttering to herself, "I don't suppose it can hurt now." Chesney, noticing this, fell back slightly, mouthed the words "I'll catch up with you," at Tonks, and headed off towards one of the more successful-looking saleswizards.. Tonks watched him go with curiosity.

The area around the stadium was still fairly empty, but there were now far more Ministry witches and wizards milling about. Warren Dawlish was standing by the main entrance as they arrived, directing squads to their positions, and when he saw Tonks his face almost broke into a smile.

"Squad 14, I see," he said. "Guess you'll know where to go anyway, Auror Tonks?"

"Yes ... yes, I looked it up," she said, carefully avoiding both his eye and the curious looks of Rhiannon Davies and Will Poppleford.

"Good." The hint of suppressed smile grew more pronounced, but he made no further comment as he handed them small compasses charmed to home in on their designated spots. Tonks was quite glad, as the route to the pitch turned out to be every bit as convoluted as the one she'd taken that morning. For Rhiannon and Poppleford, it was the first sight of the interior, and they gasped as they strode out onto the grass. Tonks didn't need to pretend to be impressed. Now that night had begun to fall, the entire stadium seemed to be generating a golden glow from within itself that made it breathtakingly lovely to look at. The last few leftover pieces of construction kit dotted about the place in the morning had been removed, the pitch had been marked and magically mown to appear like green baize, and testing messages were running across the giant scoreboard.

They quickly reached their places and donned Ministry-design robes over their Muggle clothing. Chesney caught up with them a couple of minutes later and flashed a secretive sort of grin at Tonks. She was distracted from inquiring about this when someone nearby called out, "Hey, Rhi! Dora!"

Both Aurors looked over to see Bentley Williamson waving at them from the next section. "Hi Ben!" Rhiannon called back cheerfully. "We were supposed to keep undesirables out. but I suppose we'll make an exception in your case!"

"Ha bloody ha," he replied without rancour, strolling over to speaking - rather than shouting - distance. "Don't tell me, let me guess ... you'll be supporting Ireland? I don't suppose Don would ever speak to you again if you didn't."

"Of course I'm not," she said piously, but unconvincingly. "As accredited Ministry security staff, we are strictly neutral, and merely hoping for a good clean game with lots of open play."

He grinned. "Yeah, pull the other one, it's got bellringing charms on. How about you, Dora?"

"Naturally I'm strictly neutral, despite the fact that I've got Galleons on the outcome. Not that that will influence my actions in any way during the game," she added hastily. "Oh, and I've told you before, don't call me Dora!"

"Right. Keep telling me, I might remember one of these days." His grin turned into a near-smirk. "Of course I, as - what was it, 'accredited Ministry security staff' - am also strictly neutral and here merely to ensure there isn't any trouble. I have no interest in the match itself, and the Omnioculars I have in my pocket are purely for the purposes of crowd control." He looked back to where his team leader was staring at him meaningfully, waved, and hurried off, calling back over his shoulder. "See you after the game sometime!"

Rhiannon looked after him with slight chagrin. "Omnioculars! Damn! I never thought of that, they'd really have come in handy. For crowd control, of course."

Chesney coughed. "Well, since you mention it ... I saw a bloke on the campsite just now who had obviously been selling magical devices of that nature in a location where a Muggle might have seen them. Dear me, how horribly illegal," he said solemnly. "So I told him, well mate, I'll just have to confiscate these last four pairs you have. You can pick them up from the security office at the end of the match. You know," he said thoughtfully, "in the rush, I think I might have forgotten to hand them in? Perhaps we could make good use of them. For crowd control, of course."

"Ches!" Rhiannon looked horrified. "We're not allowed to do that! That's ... that's abuse of authority. Or, well, something."

"So arrest me!" He threw out his hands in a dramatic gesture. Each hand contained a set of Omnioculars. "Bind my wrists and haul me away, ladies!"

Tonks grinned at him. "Only in your wildest fantasies, mate."

Davies looked at him uneasily. "You know, I'm really disappointed ..."

"... that we didn't think of it first," finished Tonks. She took one of the pairs of Omnioculars from his hands. "We'll put you under arrest later, but for now we might need an able-wanded wizard or two. But since you're here, you'll have to do instead."

Chesney pretended to look hurt. "Fair enough."

Tonks turned away, hiding her smile, and testing out the Omnioculars with a sweep around the stadium. She fought hard not to giggle as she caught sight of the exit from the changing rooms, from where the teams would shortly emerge looking much more convincing as international Quidditch players than she had. And then a loud, booming, magically sounded gong note reverberated through the stadium, and Tonks felt a thrill of anticipation. She looked up and exchanged glances with the others, who were clearly reacting the same way.

The noise level in the stadium slowly grew as the crowd filtered in, drowning out their nervous attempts at conversation, and even the string of terrible jokes from the next section that Williamson was telling loudly in an attempt to hide his own nervousness ("How do you spot a Canadian dark wizard? They go Crucio, eh?").

Tonks took the opportunity to use the Omnioculars to survey what she mentally dubbed the 'Scrimgeour Family Block'. Brutus Scrimgeour, the famous ex- Puddlemere Beater, was already in his seat, but for a moment or two she couldn't spot Cassius. Then she smiled as she saw him emerge from the stairway, deep in conversation with the Blackstocks. Nice work, partner. He broke off with a cheerful wave, and Tonks swung the Omnioculars to follow them as they took their seats. It was the first time she had been able to examine them at what appeared to be close range.

Archibald Blackstock himself appeared pretty much as she'd expected; self-assured, dignified, well-dressed; slightly portly, subtly - but definitely - putting on a show. His wife was playing her part well too, looking every inch a woman to whom high social status came naturally. Come to think of it, it probably does. The notes she'd seen said that Vanessa came from a prominent wizarding family, whose financial situation had worsened to the point that they were struggling to maintain themselves in the manner to which they wished to remain accustomed. The match must have been made to measure for both of them.

Tonks adjusted the controls and zoomed in on Portia in order to study her carefully. Seen in close-up like this, she had to admit that Farley's memory hadn't played him false. She was a honey. She decided that Portia could have been one of the gawky teenagers she remembered from school, but if so, she'd definitely blossomed since then. Both her parents were fairly nice-looking, but she'd clearly inherited the best of both. If any of them were planning nefarious acts, however, they weren't giving any visible indication of it; in fact Portia was gazing around with almost childlike enthusiasm, for all the world looking like Cassius' recollection of her as "quite a nice girl".

Tonks lowered the Omnioculars and grinned. After her own activities earlier, she wasn't really in a position to complain about childishness. And, considering what she'd got up to at school -in fact, considering what she'd done over the weekend - she knew perfectly well that a butter-wouldn't-melt expression was no guarantee whatsoever of innocence.

These thoughts, and Williamson's last attempt at a joke ("Did you hear the one about the troll, the hag and the lepre ..."), were interrupted by a booming amplified voice from high in the stands that she immediately recognised as Ludo Bagman.

"Ladies and gentlemen ... welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"

The volume of cheering, shouting, applause, and general mayhem swelled, echoing off the huge bowl of the stadium, to the point where several members of the security teams winced and put their hands over their ears until it had abated slightly. Before very long a hundred or so Veela that the Bulgarians had brought along as mascots streamed out onto the pitch and begin to dance, at which point the spectators became much more interesting. Tonks and Rhiannon shared a grin at the clear divide forming; most of the wizards were watching with rapt attention, but many of the witches with them were - well, if not actually disgruntled, certainly far from being gruntled.

Tonks realised with mild concern that the effectiveness of the security teams had also taken a knock. Chesney Thompson at least had had the presence of mind to turn round and put his hands over his ears as soon as he realised what was happening, but Will Poppleford was staring at the dancing Veela with a dazed expression; and in the next section Williamson looked as if were on the point of striding onto the pitch to explain how he'd just solved every case on the Department's books single-handedly. Rhiannon took pity on him and fired a Stinging Hex his way to distract him.

"Blondes are just your type, aren't they, Ben?" called Tonks merrily, as he turned hastily away from the Veela and rubbed his smarting hand.

"Shut up, Dora," he shot back in furious embarrassment. Tonks gave him an ironic wave.

The Irish leprechaun display that followed was a lot less eventful, at least until leprechaun gold started falling out of the sky. Tonks ducked and hastily raised her wand to cast an Umbrella Charm to deflect the flying lumps of metal. She watched the behaviour of the crowd in surprise; there was actually some danger of fist-fights breaking out as spectators scrabbled for the coins. The security teams, called upon for the first time, moved in closer to discourage them.

"What on earth are they doing?" yelled Tonks. If she was being honest with herself, she didn't want to be distracted from the Final by having to provide actual security. "They won't even have time to try spending them, the match is about to start!"

"You know that, I know that," shouted Poppleford, who was still rather red-faced. "These foreigners won't know what leprechaun gold does though, will they?" He gave the impression of being quite pleased not to be the only one making a fool of himself. Tonks sighed and pointed her wand at the stands, ready for immediate use if necessary. Fortunately, before the situation could get out of hand, the teams began to fly out onto the pitch. The scuffles immediately quietened down, to their relief.

Tonks and her team were able to spend most of the next hour with only an occasional glance at the crowd to check that they weren't needed. It quickly became clear that Bulgaria were outclassed, and that unless their young prodigy Krum came up with the Snitch within the next few minutes, or their Beaters managed to take out at least one Irish Chaser, Irish eyes would be smiling that night. As Krum and Lynch hurtled towards the ground at about twenty minutes in, Chesney leapt up and down in excitement, only to sag with disappointment when it became clear it was only a feint.

Tonks caught Chesney's eye and mouthed at him above the noise. "Bad luck, mate. Plenty of time yet before midnight, though." He grinned at her rather guiltily, but didn't say anything.

As the match continued and Bagman continued to bellow out his commentary, her own wager was looking good value. Troy was leading the line with great energy, and putting away the occasional penalty too. The only cause for concern from the security point of view was the Bulgarian support, growing increasingly annoyed at the way their team were repeatedly penalised for foul play.

"Uh-oh," said Rhiannon quietly as the leprechauns rose into the air yet again to add their own commentary on the latest penalty to Ireland. "Look at the Veela."

"Er - we'd better not, actually," said Chesney hastily, and Poppleford nodded vigorously in agreement. Tonks snorted and turned to see what she meant, and felt her heart sink. As far as she could tell through the swarm of leprechauns on their side of the pitch, the Bulgarian mascots were starting to look like very fed up magical creatures indeed. They had begun to dance at the Irish mascots and supporters, in a manner that conveyed the message: "Oh yeah? Well, take this then."

"Blonde bombshells don't look too chuffed, do they?" she muttered.

"No, they don't - oh no, now what?" said Rhiannon in exasperation, as Bagman roared something about sending off the Veela. They had at least stopped dancing for the moment. Chesney very cautiously spun the replay dial on his Omnioculars, and winced.

"Referee got a blast of it by the look of things," he said. "Poor sod. Don't blame him for wanting to put a stop to it ..."

"Can he do that?" asked Rhiannon warily, as two Bulgarian players started to argue with him and the Veela looked on with very defiant expressions. "Please mate, don't make it worse - oh no, not you bloody lot again!" For the leprechauns, who had been growing increasingly exuberant as Ireland piled on the points, had formed themselves up to make another sarcastic remark in the direction of the Veela. Squad 14 breathed a collective sigh of relief as Mostafa the referee contented himself with merely awarding Ireland penalties. The Veela tossed their heads and glared at him sulkily, then started muttering to each other in an ominous-looking way.

"Is it just me or do you think something might be about to kick off here?" said Chesney with foreboding as the match resumed. Bad tempers were being displayed all around. "Not looking good, is it - yow!" They ducked just in time as a Bludger, aimed in the general direction of Troy by a Bulgarian beater flying high above him, missed them by inches and tore a ten foot long skid mark in the turf before flying off again in search of players to unseat.

"Right, that's it, I'm definitely supporting Ireland now," muttered Tonks, as she picked herself up from the ground, where she'd tripped getting out of the way. If even the players were causing trouble, things weren't looking good. She glanced up as the crowd roared its disapproval at yet another Bulgarian foul. Tonks watched with trepidation as the leprechauns took Mostaf's whistle blast as a signal to form up again. She groaned when she saw the pointed gesture they were making in the direction of the Veela.

Rhiannon Davies evidently had the same idea. "Oh hell. Wands ready!" she cried out urgently. The others didn't need telling twice. Irate Veela were already charging across the pitch. "Will? You're the magical creature expert here, what can they do?"

"They - well, that," yelled Poppleford, pointing at the nearest Veela who were already hurling fire at the leprechauns. Seeing Rhiannon's alarmed look, he quickly added, "It's just ordinary flame, not enchanted, but it still burns! And their magical blood" - he pointed wildly in the direction of some nearby security guards firing Stunners at the Veela, with limited effect - "means they're very resistant to simple spells!" Tonks groaned again. As many of the Veela transformed into their part-bird forms, Poppleford added, somewhat unnecessarily, "And watch out for those beaks and claws, because they're bloody sharp!"

"Understood!" Everyone was having to yell now to make themselves heard. The security teams threw themselves into the fray, attempting to keep the Veela back with a random assortment of spells - trip jinxes, binding ropes, jets of fire of their own. Meanwhile the leprechauns were giving as good as they got, zooming around, pelting the Veela with coins, and once or twice nearly being mistaken for Bludgers by the Beaters. Tonks quickly abandoned any hope of watching the play until they had it sorted out. Unfortunately, the confusion was such that no-one seemed able to coordinate efforts to get things back under control.

She dodged a blast of fire from a peeved Veela, yelped in pain as a flying leprechaun collided heavily with the side of her head, and finally in exasperation just Conjured a large shield, enchanted it to be feather-light for the bearer, and swung it around in front of her in an attempt to keep the two sides apart. Out the corner of her eye she could see Rhiannon trying to simultaneously listen to instructions yelled by a supervisor, direct her own team, and keep the nearest mascots from killing each other. Chesney and Poppleford were having an even harder time, as the Veela only had to change back into their usual form and dance to distract the male security staff.

"Will ... you ... STOP THAT!" she yelled in frustration at one of the aviform Veela, who was flapping her wings threateningly and trying to get past the shield to attack a group of leprechauns jeering at her from behind Tonks. Irritated, she turned on them: "And you lot can SHUT UP TOO!" She reinforced this by quickly jabbing her wand at the giggling leprechauns and muttering "Silencio." It seemed to work; they clutched their throats in surprise as the Veela shrieked with what Tonks assumed must be laughter.

The noise from the fighting was so loud that it took her several seconds for the screams from the crowd to register. She chanced a glimpse up at the game and momentarily forgot what she was doing; on the other side of the pitch the two Seekers were hurtling towards the ground. Fortunately this was drawing the attention of many of the combatants as well. Tonks winced as Lynch mistimed his dive for the second time of the night and slammed into the ground. The Veela next to her leapt up and down and screeched with laughter again as many of her companions rushed towards the Irish Seeker and trampled all over him for good measure.

It took a moment for Tonks to notice the great roar building up inside the stadium. Confused, she glanced up at the scoreboard - surely Lynch didn't get the Snitch? - and felt her jaw drop when she realised that Krum must have caught it. The leprechauns were going berserk; Tonks gripped her wand and shield again in preparation for the Veelas' reaction, but fortunately for all concerned the end of the match seemed to have disheartened them. As the Irish national anthem blared out they returned to human form, looked at each other despondently, and glided back across the pitch to their original places. Tonks wasn't the only member of the security staff breathing a sigh of relief.

"Oh, well," said Chesney philosophically to Tonks as they returned to their station. "At least we got to see most of it."

"Yeah. Pity about the riot, wasn't it?"

He smiled somewhat weakly. "I know. Having to do actual work to provide security wasn't in our contracts, was it?"

"You should have read the small print, mate."

They grinned companionably at each other as, high above them in the opposite stand, the Top Box suddenly lit up like daylight for the presentations. Tonks quickly took her Omnioculars out of the pocket of her robes and focused them, grimacing as the Bulgarian team trooped by and she saw Krum in close-up. Clearly he must have taken a Bludger to the face at some point in proceedings, as he didn't look good. She couldn't help grinning though at his double-take as he passed by a girl on the way out of the Box. Her face wasn't visible to Tonks from this angle, but obviously she must be something really special to get the attention of the international Quidditch star, who probably had to fend the witches off with a Beater's bat normally. Portia, you've got competition, love.

They all cheered loudly as Troy and Quigley lifted the vast golden trophy and began a lap of honour. Eventually, the festivities over, the crowd began to troop out of the stadium; the Bulgarians first, looking rather glum, the Irish last of all, already starting celebrations that looked as if they might go on indefinitely.

Tonks smirked at Rhiannon as they watched them go. "Do you think Don will be able to keep this lot in order then?"

She snorted at her. "Donnie? He'll be leading the revels. We'd better go down there later on and take a look. We're still technically on duty for another few hours."

"Do you think we'll need to break anything up?" asked Chesney with a touch of concern.

Rhiannon shook her head. "Might have to ask them to tone it down a bit, but after the pitch invasion - well, it can't get any worse than that tonight, can it?"