Nymphadora Tonks and the Liquor of Jacmel

22. The Morning After The Night Before

Tuesday 25^th August 1994

Tonks and Rhiannon wearily Apparated to the Ministry at half past nine the following morning, and as soon as they reached Auror Headquarters joined the queue for the coffee that had been thoughtfully provided. In fact, Tonks felt so tired that she'd hoped for an urn of Potion of Wakefulness. (But since that required a sleepless night to brew, it would have rather optimistic to hope they could have rustled up enough of the stuff at short notice. Large quantities of black coffee was the next best thing, and at least it didn't taste like old socks.)

As Rhiannon poured out two large mugs full from the spigot, Tonks spotted that the morning's Daily Prophet special edition had been attached to the wall with a Sticking Charm. She skimmed through it. It didn't make pleasant reading.

"Skeeter her usual fair and balanced self, is she?" asked Rhiannon bitterly, when she noticed what Tonks was doing.

"Yeah, let's see ... Ministry blunders ... innocent campers fled in terror ... lax security procedures ... offenders escaped scot-free ... Dark Magic openly used ... it will take years for our country to live down this national disgrace played out in front of the entire wizarding world ... blah blah blah."

"Cow. Oh wonderful. Claymore's going to be chewing rocks and spitting out gravel over this, and it wasn't even his responsibility."

"Yeah." Tonks glanced around; there were far more than the usual number of Aurors here; to her surprise, she even recognised some of her classmates from training who had been posted to other offices. "Have they got every Auror in the country here?" she muttered, taking the proffered mug.

"Don't think so, but I wouldn't be surprised," said Rhiannon in a low voice. "Claymore can't officially order them about unless they're Central Division, but I bet he's going to have a damn good try." She nodded towards one end of the room, where Claymore was sitting with a group of other senior-looking Aurors, deep in serious and rather heated conversation.

"Who's he talking to?" asked Tonks.

"Them? They're the other Division heads. I know most of them; the one next to him is Diarmuid Fitzpatrick from Dublin - Donnie knows him quite well, that's where he started out. The one at the end there is Gawain Robards from the Welsh Division - that's where I started out. And the woman in the dark blue robes is Emily Farbright, she works out of Birmingham."

They made their way over to the cubicles, where Cassius and Donnacha O'Gregan were sitting, looking equally tired. Tonks raised her eyebrows.

"I thought you two were still on holiday?" she said.

O'Gregan snorted, picked up a piece of mauve parchment and waved it at them. "Not any more. All leave cancelled until further notice. Orders straight from Amelia Bones, no less. Do you get the impression they're a bit miffed at the way things went with those fellows in masks, now?"

Tonks grinned. "You've sobered up enough to work, then?"

"I was stone cold sober and working last night," he replied with dignity. "My darling girl here came to check on me, and I asked her to cast a Sobriety Spell so I could help." Rhiannon nodded in confirmation.

"And I came back to do what I could too, once Rufus and I had got the rest of the family out of harm's way," added Cassius tiredly. "Little as that was. You know, I thought I'd left this sort of thing behind when I retired? I never expected to see Death Eaters on the march again."

"We're sure it was them, then?" asked Rhiannon.

"Who else could it be?" said Cassius, shrugging. "Someone sent a Dark Mark up, after all."

"Scared the masked lot off, though," said Tonks thoughtfully, mulling it over. "I was watching them. Now I think about it, it was a bit odd, really. They all vanished as soon as it appeared, and they didn't do anything else after that, did they? The ones I actually saw Disapparate looked like they were panicking." She glanced around speculatively. "It couldn't have been some other group trying to act big and make a name for themselves, and ... oh I don't know, an ex-Death Eater got annoyed when he saw them cavorting about, and tried to throw a scare into them? 'Hey lads, you want to play at being Death Eaters? Well, meet the real thing.'"

"Might be, I suppose, but that doesn't sound much better," said O'Gregan, with a gloomy look. "If they weren't You-Know-Who's old pals holding a nice little reunion party, it just means we've got another bunch o'nutters on our hands who like to dress up in masks and torment Muggles. Lovely. Either way, it'll be no fun for us, now, will it?"

"Why now, though?" asked Rhiannon curiously. "They've been keeping their heads down for years, why would they suddenly risk doing this with the whole world watching? You don't ..." She shivered, gulped, and continued more quietly. "You don't think they've got some sort of indication that You-Know-Who is on his way back?" The others shuddered.

"How would he do that?" asked O'Gregan in a reassuring voice. "No-one's heard a peep from him for years, if he's even still alive."

"I don't know about that, Donnie," said Rhiannon in a worried tone. "He was supposed to be controlling that teacher that got killed at Hogwarts a couple of years ago." Seeing the looks of surprise from her colleagues, she added, "My little cousin Roger told me. He said the whole school seemed to know what had happened, even if no-one ever confirmed it officially."

"Right ..." said O'Gregan, discomfited. "Of course, the boys in masks could just have been doing it because they'd had too much to drink."

Tonks bit her lip and cast her mind back to the way the wizards had marched across the field. "They seemed too well-drilled for that," she said. "Like ... like they'd practiced it beforehand. The ones who came to join them afterwards might well have been sloshed, but not the bunch in the middle ..." Her eyes widened in sudden recollection. "Oh, wait a minute ... I forgot!" She smacked her forehead, hard.

"What?" said Cassius, looking up with interest.

A few words, spoken in an immensely smug voice, came back to her: 'Father had some people to see. We had to provide them with somewhere civilised to meet.' She groaned. "I've just remembered. I met my little cousin on the site - Draco, Lucius Malfoy's son? He said his dad was hosting a meeting there, and they practically had a bloody marquee! What's the betting they were doing some last-minute work on their moves for the big night?"

The others exchanged glances. "Malfoy? The slimy blond one who throws his money around and smarms up to Fudge? Not a bad shot," said O'Gregan judiciously. "What do you think, Cassius?"

Cassius was looking at Tonks with uncertainty, perhaps remembering her harsh attitude when Lucius Malfoy's name had come up before. Damn. He thinks I'm overreacting. I knew I shouldn't have let my guard down. "Possible, I suppose," he said. "I wouldn't trust him an inch, but it's not proof of anything. But it's an interesting piece of information," he added hastily, holding up a hand to forestall Tonks' indignant reply. "You'd better mention it to whoever's going to coordinate the investigation. I know young Rufus was railing about the sloppy security last night - he was absolutely furious with what happened, sure that someone must have useful information. He went off looking for someone senior to discuss it with."

"Right." Tonks glanced at her watch; it was still only five to ten. "I suppose we'll find out who's running this in a few minutes." She looked around curiously. "Where's Arnie got to, anyway?"

O'Gregan shrugged. "Haven't seen him. And we can't contact him, which is bloody annoying - they switched off access to all mirror phones, presumably so our Egbert won't get interrupted while he's yelling at us."

"They can do that?"

"Apparently," said Cassius. "K's always full of little tricks like that. I hope the rumour flying round that one of our senior people was thinking of retiring isn't referring to him - no-one else knows how to make half the stuff he comes up with! I've actually grown quite fond of these gadgets."

"Me too," said O'Gregan. "I can even call me mam on them. Anyway, I'm not worried about Arnie; probably just had something he needed to follow up. They can't drag everyone in here, can they, not when they have things to look into?"

"No, I suppose they ca ..." Rhiannon trailed off as a small group swept past them. Tonks looked on in trepidation as she recognised Amelia Bones herself, accompanied by Dawlish, a couple of harassed-looking wizards she took to be her assistants, and a tall, thin man with glasses and a lot of yellowish hair, who was walking quickly despite a trace of a limp.

O'Gregan whistled quietly. "Can it be now that they are taking this seriously," he said. "Cassius, isn't that ..."

"My great-nephew from the Northern Division?" said Cassius with a frown. His expression was that of a man who had just bitten into something with a mildly unpleasant taste. "Yes, it is. What's he doing with Amelia, I wonder?"

"Good question," muttered Tonks, staring at the senior officials as they marched to the end of the room. Amelia Bones pulled out her wand and deftly Conjured a small raised platform, on which they all climbed, then held up a hand for silence. The few people holding murmured conversations immediately fell quiet. She fitted her monocle into her eye, and looked around grimly.

"Right," she said in a booming voice. "You should all know me, I head this Department. This meeting is to tell you what we intend to do about last night's fiasco. And as far as I'm concerned the only good thing about that is that the buck stops on the desks of Barty Crouch and Ludo Bagman, not on mine. You don't have to write this down," she snapped at a Departmental scribe who was attempting to take minutes. He flushed and hastily dropped his quill.

"Be that as it may, however, we're the ones who have to pick up the pieces," she continued. "The Minister has been embarrassed at a global event, so he wants action. So do I. I want those filth rounded up and soon. This is now a Priority A case." There were whistles at this. Two Priority A cases now? Catching my cousin and catching the Death Eaters. There's a pattern here.

"Now I've spent most of the night with my head in a fire talking to other members of the Wizengamot, and we've come to an understanding. I'll have to go down there this afternoon to get it formally confirmed, but what you need to know is this. Firstly, from now on applications for warrants of any kind will be considered swiftly and with a kindly eye. If you need one to search a house or conduct an interrogation, apply. If you have any kind of evidence, you'll get it. That applies to coercive warrants too, especially for the use of Veritaserum. The Chief Warlock has given his personal assurance that he sees, as he puts it, 'no objection to its employment in serious cases', and in an emergency he is even willing to grant permission for use on his own authority if necessary."

She looked around at their raised eyebrows and smiled very slightly. "Don't bother him unless it's an emergency. He's a busy man, and he'll be off to the International Confederation conference in Stockholm soon anyway. Secondly, if you need resources to carry out an investigation, just ask for them. The Wizengamot will be putting aside a special allocation of gold from the budget to get results on this case. And we'll pull people out of other departments if we need to, as we did when Black escaped. Hopefully it'll do some good this time. Thirdly, if you have any wild suspicions or half-arsed theories, don't ignore them, raise them. We'll take suggestions from cave trolls if they turn out to get results."

She gazed sternly at the assembled Aurors through her monocle. "But finally - don't all go racing around like loose Bludgers on this one and lose sight of the other important cases. You can let most of the minor enquiries go, but not your Priority B investigations. I have no desire to give the Prophet any more chances to complain that we're letting murderers escape. Just use your brains, your initiative, and your common sense. You're all supposed to have them. Right, any questions?"

There was complete silence in the room as the Aurors digested this information. No-one was foolish enough to ask a question.

"Right then," she said. "For those of you who don't know Rufus Scrimgeour here, he's Commander of the Northern Division. He'll be in overall charge of the investigation and coordinating our efforts." Tonks could see Claymore and the other senior Aurors near the front glance at each other; this statement didn't seem to be going down at all well with them. Amelia Bones chuckled. "For you chaps from other Divisions - I'm sorry, but I need a single point of reference, and Mr Scrimgeour here has some good ideas. Also, his division is well-staffed at the moment compared to their caseload, so I don't mind leaving his deputy in charge. He's authorised to call on any Aurors necessary, whatever Division they're from, and set the direction for the investigation. I want you all to work closely with him and support what he does. If I'm treading on anyone's toes, my apologies, now get over it."

Tonks glanced again at the other Division heads. Their reactions were mostly a mixture of disgruntlement and resignation, but Egbert Claynore looked absolutely livid. She winced; this did not bode well for future events in the Central Division

Amelia Bones turned to the man on her other side: "Warren Dawlish here was the main Auror liaison at the World Cup, and for the moment he'll be continuing to act as liaison between the Auror office, the Minister's office, and Mr Scrimgeour - who'll be moving to an office here in the Ministry. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some long and tedious meetings to go to. Best of luck, chaps, and get me results." She nodded at the Aurors and strode out the room, followed hastily by her assistants. Nobody spoke until the door had closed behind them.

Tonks exchanged glances with the others. Apparently now Cassius' nephew - no, great-nephew - could officially give him orders. Cassius didn't look especially happy at the idea. She wondered briefly what he was like. She caught sight of one of her old classmates, Albert Jenkins, across the room; he winked at her in recognition. She smiled; he was probably going to have a rude awakening if by some chance they ever called on him.

Rufus Scrimgeour himself was currently merely calling for order. "Very well, you've all heard the Head of Department," he said brusquely. "Let's be frank with each other. Last night was one of the biggest cock-ups it's been my misfortune to see since I joined the Department. I'm astonished that no-one even tried to come up with a way to get in among them or get those Muggles out of there."

"Like how?" The words were muttered sullenly by an Auror near the front that Tonks hadn't seen before. She winced in sympathy; unfortunately for him, he spoke just as Rufus Scrimgeour took a pause for breath, so his words could be heard by the whole room.

"How?" snapped Scrimgeour, glaring at the man through his wire-rimmed glasses. "You were there, I take it? You're meant to be an Auror, man, aren't you?" He rounded on them as the hapless Auror flinched. "Did no-one think to Conjure themselves a hood and a mask, join that march, and try to break them up from inside? Or use a Disillusionment Charm on themselves and take advantage of the dark to sneak up on them? Or even just make a Portkey and Banish it towards the Muggles to get them out of there?"

He looked around at the expressions of chagrin on many of the faces. "No, none of you did think, by the look of it. At least the amateurs they had on those so-called security teams had an excuse. They're not supposed to know any better. We've got sloppy since the end of the war! If the Death Eaters had wanted to fight the kind of battle they used to give us, we'd have a casualty list ten feet long this morning."

Easy for you to say now, mate, thought Tonks. You were off getting your family away, you weren't in the thick of it. She could see, looking around, that a number of other people seemed to be thinking the same thing; but all of them had enough sense not to actually say it. As far as she could tell, Rufus Scrimgeour, while slightly more diplomatic, came from pretty much the same mould as Egbert Claymore.

"Right," he said, looking at them sternly. "Let's start thinking now. First off, I need to see all the Division heads in ten minutes time in Madam Bones's office, together with anyone who was acting as a World Cup security supervisor" - Tonks looked across the room at Kingsley Shacklebolt in sympathy, and saw him wince - "and anyone who went to investigate that Dark Mark and can perhaps explain to me what the hell Barty Crouch thought he was doing." She heard Rhiannon groan next to her. "Maybe we can plan something for a change. The rest of you, start checking any leads you have. If you don't have any, go and find some. Put all your other cases on the back-burner unless they're both important and urgent. All right, let's get to work." He turned, Vanished the platform and strode out of the room.

Rhiannon looked at the rest of her team with trepidation. "Better not hang about," she said quietly. "Wish me luck." She got up and followed an irate Claymore, a sombre Kingsley Shacklebolt, and a number of other Aurors towards the door.

Tonks scowled and turned to the others. "So I guess we don't go looking for potion salesmen, then."

"Oh yes we do," said Cassius in an annoyed tone. "We can't just drop everything to go poking in dark corners on the off-chance we might find an old Death Eater hiding there. As Amelia said, we use our common sense."

"But ..." O'Gregan hesitated. "Look, Cassius old son, your boy did say important and urgent, didn't he? I'll grant you this potion business is important, what with the Ashford case an'all, but it's not exactly urgent at the moment, is it?"

Cassius snorted. "Donnacha, you seem to be working on the assumption that this rush for results is going to last. This will probably turn out the same way as what happened after the Manchester Mayhem ... well, all right," he said with resignation at the blank looks on their faces, "I suppose neither of you were born when that happened, so let's say it'll resemble the Sirius Black case." He gave Tonks a very brief apologetic glance. "In other words, a huge panic to start with, and everybody pulled off their normal jobs to chase around on the hunt, yes? Then after a few weeks with no-one getting anywhere, and everyone tripping over each other's feet, things go back to normal and we'll start to investigate the case properly, the way we should have done in the first place. Except then we'll be a long way behind on all the other things that have been neglected."

Tonks and O'Gregan obviously didn't look convinced, as he gazed at them in mild exasperation. "This is politics, Donnacha. I've seen it too many times before to get worried about it. We have to be seen to be Doing Something for the sake of keeping the newspapers off out backs, even when there isn't anything we can usefully do."

"We can keep our jobs, mate," pointed out O'Gregan. "That sounds useful to me. Myself and young Tonks here don't have eighty years experience to make us feel blasé about it."

Cassius smiled. "Oh. I'm sorry if I sound like a schoolteacher." The smile broadened into something approaching a grin. "I didn't say we shouldn't keep up appearances. No harm in letting Rufus and Amelia, or the Prophet - or our suspects for that matter - think we're all working on this twenty-four hours a day. We can, and should, start fishing for information on Death Eater activity as well whenever we get the chance. But I don't want to get a call in a few weeks time saying that Mackenzie Ashford has been targeted again, and know that we've taken our eyes off the Quaffle and could have prevented it."

Tonks and O'Gregan looked at each other. "And the Jacmel case?" she asked.

"The same there. I thought we'd agreed? We'll have big trouble if the stuff ever starts to be openly offered on the Dark Arts market, rather than just supplied by special favour as it seems to be at the moment. Especially if the Death Eaters are going to become active again. They gave us enough problems last time with the Imperius curse, but at least there weren't many people who could cast that properly. Any fool can use Liquor of Jacmel. We were probably lucky that, apparently, they didn't have access to a regular source ... the Haitians don't like selling it unless they know you well, remember? So we follow up our leads on this case as well. Agreed?"

"I suppose so," said O'Gregan, slightly reluctantly.

Tonks nodded. "We'll have to wait for that lot to work out their amazing master plan anyway," she reminded him.

He brightened up at this. "Very true. OK, what do we do?"

"Well for a start, in making that little speech I've just reminded myself how hard it is to get hold of a source of supply," said Cassius wryly. "I'll see if I can get in touch with my old contacts, and I'll ask the Caribbean Central Magical Registry if they know anything - that's new, you used to have to deal with all the little two-Sickle ministries on each isl..."

He trailed off as his mirror phone started to ring.

Startled - Tonks realised that they'd all forgotten the things had been temporarily deactivated - he extracted it from a pocket in his robes and answered. She couldn't follow the long, rapidly-spoken monologue from the other end, but whatever was being said was obviously big news, as his eyebrows rose and his expression first fell and then hardened.

"Caught a Death Eater, have we?" asked O'Gregan jokingly as he finished..

"No." Cassius looked at them rather sombrely. He seemed to be struggling to keep an I-told-you-so expression from his face. "That was Arnold. He's at St Mungo's. While the World Cup was on, someone made another attempt to kill Mackenzie Ashford."

*****

Cornworthy was there to meet them when they Apparated into St Mungo's, sitting in the corridor outside a private room and reading the paper. He looked very tired, with even more of a hang-dog expression than he usually wore.

"Morning, Don, Cassius, Tonks," he said gloomily. "Gather you had a bit of excitement last night?"

"You could say that," replied O'Gregan jocularly. "How's our boy?"

"Going to be all right, I think. I'm glad you're here, I've had to wait up on guard duty all night. Couldn't even get hold of any Enforcement Patrol people to help. Was that to do with the World Cup thing? It sounded bad in the paper - they were talking about people being killed? But I didn't want to rely on what they had to say about it."

"Very wise," said Cassius. "No, no-one killed as far as we know, but that was probably sheer luck."

"Oh. Missed all the fun then, I suppose."

Tonks, who was becoming increasingly impatient, interrupted them. "Arnie, we'll tell you about the World Cup later, mate. What happened to Ashford? Cassius here didn't have time to tell us."

"Oh, right," said Cornworthy. "Basically, someone tried to poison him."

"Poison him?"

"Yeah. His birthday was on the Saturday before the World Cup Final, and somebody sent him a box of his favourite Honeydukes chocolates with a card from his niece Charlotte. The analysts here have had a look at them, and they told me they were all laced with something called" - he pulled out a roll of parchment from a pocket and read from it uncertainly - 'aqua cordis debilitatio'. Never heard of it before, to be honest."

"Just a moment - that sounds very vaguely familiar, I think I've heard the name before," said Cassius. His face went blank for a moment as he searched his memory, then he shook his head with an annoyed look. "No, can't think of it. Go on, Arnold, is there a common name?"

He nodded. "The Heart-Enfeebling Potion. Ring any bells?"

Cassius' face went blank again for a moment, then he whistled. "Oh yes, of course. I haven't come across a mention of that one for a long time."

"What does it do?" asked Tonks with curiosity.

"It's a slow poison meant to cause a natural looking death," he said grimly. "If I remember correctly what I was told - and it's been about seventy years so I can't guarantee that - it was quite a popular little Dark Potion in Renaissance times, but it must be mercifully rare nowadays. There's a counter, Arnold, I hope?"

Cornworthy nodded in reassurance. "That's what the Healers said - they made him swallow a bezoar straight away while they worked out what it was, then when they found out they gave him a dose or two of antidote and a goblet of Strengthening Solution, and he didn't get much of the poison anyway. He should be perfectly OK now. They're just keeping him here for a few days as a precaution." He consulted the parchment again. "They were quite excited to get a case, copied this out of some old book for me. Apparently the stuff has a delayed action, it slowly weakens the heart. A few weeks later, any little shock and bang, fatal heart attack. It's out of the system by then so it looks like natural causes."

Tonks shuddered. "Nasty."

"You bet."

"Why on earth did he eat the bloody things in the first place?" cried O'Gregan in exasperation. "He knew someone was out to get him, and that it might very well be his precious nieces and nephew! I even gave him one of K's best poison testers! Why didn't he have the sense to use it?"

"He did, Don," said Cornworthy placatingly. "Actually, it was a good job he had it. He was a bit suspicious when the chocs arrived through the owl post, but he did have the sense to feed a few of them to one of his Crups. When it didn't drop dead he assumed they had to be all right." O'Gregan groaned. "Luckily, the day after, one of the ex-Law Enforcement Patrol blokes he'd hired as bodyguards saw him eating them, asked where they came from and did his nut when he found out. He said he stuck the tester in one of them, it turned carmine - apparently that showed there was a slow poison in it - so he got Ashford straight here and called me. He clocked off about two AM so I've been here minding the shop ever since."

"Have you had a chance to interview Ashford yet?" asked Cassius.

"Sorry, Cassius, I haven't. The Healers were working on him to clear the stuff out of his system, and then they told him to get some rest. I think he's awake now though."

"Very well. Tonks and I will go and talk to him. Donnacha, if you wouldn't mind just keeping an eye out here in case anyone tries again? Arnold, where's the card that came with it?"

Cornworthy shrugged. "I managed to find someone in at Magical Analysis when I called. They sent a bloke round to collect it. He hasn't got back to me yet."

Cassius nodded. "Never mind. You'd better go and get some rest yourself. At least we managed to get a few hours sleep. I'll see you tomorrow, if Rufus doesn't find something else for you to do first ... we'll tell you all about that later, as well," he added at the sight of his colleagues' raised eyebrows. "You look done in, old chap. Off you go."

He turned to Tonks. "Right, young lady. Let's go and talk to our Mr Ashford."

*****

Mackenzie Ashford was sitting up in bed when they entered, staring blankly out of the window. The pleasant green fields visible through it confused Tonks for a moment, until she realised that it must be a Ministry-style enchanted window, charmed to show picturesque scenes rather than a bustling London street for the sake of making the patient feel better.

It didn't seem to be working as far as Mackenzie Ashford was concerned. From his listless attitude as he turned to them, Tonks wasn't sure for a moment if he was even properly conscious yet. But his eyes were fully awake, although dull and red-rimmed. She was surprised. From what she'd heard, he'd sounded like a much tougher egg than this.

"Mr Ashford?" asked Cassius in a polite tone, although to Tonks it sounded as if the cheerfulness behind it was slightly forced.

"That's me," he said bleakly, his eyes returning to the window. They waited a moment for him to continue, but he didn't appear to be in the mood for initiating conversation.

Cassius looked at him thoughtfully. "Good, good," he said, ploughing on. "We'd like to talk to you about these chocolates you received. I understand that they were delivered by owl post with a card from your niece attached?"

"Yes."

"And you only ate a few of them, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"And one of your bodyguards brought you here when he realised they were poisoned?"

"Yes."

"Very well ..." He seemed slightly disconcerted by the monosyllabic replies. "Mr Ashford, are you all right? We can leave this until later if you don't feel up to it."

Ashford continued to gaze out of the window with a distant expression on his face. He gave the impression that he wouldn't have noticed if it had been displaying dancing polar bears. "No, I'm not all right," he said, in a voice that was so quiet that Tonks had to strain to hear him. "I'm not all right at all. I never thought it would come to this."

"To what, Mr Ashford?" said Tonks, putting all the kindness she could manage into it. He winced.

"My own flesh and blood trying to kill me," he said brokenly.

"Oh," she said in recognition. There was a slightly awkward pause while Cassius and Tonks exchanged glances. He appeared to be thinking hard. "I can't deny that's an obvious possibility, Mr Ashford," he said carefully. "And I know the idea must come as a shock to you. It would to anyone. But it may not be correct, even so. We need you to tell us as much as you can so we can determine the truth. Will you help us?" Tonks listened, quite impressed. You do the sympathetic ear stuff so much better than me, mate. Maybe it comes with age.

Ashford stared into space for a moment or two; Tonks and Cassius let him have time. "I brought them up," he said eventually. "I never married, you see, I always thought of them as if they were my own. They were only kids when ... when my sister and brother got themselves killed. Paul - my sister's husband, that is - always did shoot his mouth off, and my brother Gavin used to back him up. Neither of them ever had the sense to take precautions." He finally turned to look at them. His voice was getting slightly louder, but it still remained soft and sombre, and the pain showed clearly in his eyes. "You know, at first I thought my worst moment ever was the day I got the news that Amanda and Paul and his parents had been killed by You-Know-Who's lot? Then I thought it was the day after, when I heard they got Gavin and Felicity too as they left work. Well now it feels like today. The day my own chil ... my own family tried to kill me."

"Were you sure the chocolates came from Charlotte, Mr Ashford?" asked Cassius gently. Ashford didn't seem to have heard him; his mind apparently wandering on its own path.

"Even when that ... when the knife attack happened, I didn't really believe they had anything to do with it," he said, bitter anguish audible in his voice despite its lack of volume. "Oh of course, I got some bodyguards, asked the kids to stay away, shut myself up for a bit, just as a precaution you know? I've crossed a lot of people in my time. I didn't know of anyone who'd actually be serious ahout wanting to do me in, but I knew there could be. But the idea that any of the kids would be behind it ... well, it just seemed ludicrous."

He caught Cassius' eye. "I was so happy to get a birthday present from Charlie on time for once. She's usually late. And I was glad that she picked my favourites. Oh, I went through the motions of trying them out on the animals first, but I didn't seriously think they were a threat. But if that bodyguard feller hadn't cottoned on ... well, they'd just have been eaten and the box thrown away, wouldn't they? And then a couple of months later I'd just have conked out and no-one would have been any the wiser, would they? The man earned his money, I can tell you. As did your colleague Don with that tester he lent me. He's a good lad. I'd like to thank him personally for that if I may."

"He's just outside," put in Tonks. "We'll send him in afterwards, he'll need to stick around to keep an eye out anyway." Ashford brightened very slightly.

"Thanks," he said. He shook his head. "Charlie," he said. "I always liked her the most, you know? I know I shouldn't have, but I did. She had ... well, guts. Took after her dad, I suppose. More nerve than the other two put together - well, you'd need it to send your own card on them, wouldn't you? But I always thought she was decent." He seemed unaware of the tear that was trickling slowly down his cheek.

"Actually, was the delivery of the chocolates suspicious in any way, Mr Ashford?" asked Cassius. "Our analysis people took the card away to have a look at, but we haven't heard from them. Could it have been a fake?"

"A fake?" he said hopefully. "You think so? It looked like one of her usual cards - she always puts them on presents, you know, leaves it till the last minute and then doesn't have time for a proper card. Could someone else have Transfigured it or something?"

"It's possible," said Cassius noncommittally. "What sort of owl delivered the package? Did you recognise it as her own bird?"

"No, no, it was a public owl," said Ashford. "She always just uses the first one that comes to hand. I remember it had a little tag tied round its leg with a Ministry crest and something about the World Cup on it?"

"That's useful. We'll investigate that." Cassius was still keeping his voice carefully neutral. "Now, you say you've crossed many people. I know we've asked this before, but please consider it again - can you think of anyone who might have a particular grudge against you?"

Ashford thought hard, but eventually shook his head in disappointment. "Not really. Not this bad, anyway. Well, I suppose Peregrine Witherspoon might have if he knew I'd beaten him for the licence to import dangerous creatures." He smiled very faintly for the first time since they'd entered the room. "But I only heard about that myself just before ... just before I came in here."

The mention of dangerous creatures reminded Tonks of something. And it's about time I asked a question, anyway. Earn my Galleons "What about Nathan Arkwright?" she said. "He claims he lost his private zoo over some cages you sold him, and he definitely swore vengeance on you."

Ashford snorted. "Arkwright? Did he? All mouth and no wand, that one. And if he'd used the stuff I sold him properly, he'd have been perfectly all right. Anyway, he got back in touch with me recently, wanted - no, demanded - a few more of the things, so he couldn't have been too upset, could he? Gave him a discount, even."

Tonks and Cassius looked at each other. She was sure they were both thinking much the same thing. Bit suspicious him suddenly getting all friendly again, isn't it? She made a mental note to take a look at Arkwright as soon as possible.

"Very well," said Cassius. "We won't bother you any longer this morning, Mr Ashford. Oh, one question I must ask, I'm afraid. Who actually gets your money if you die? What are the terms of your will?"

The trace of a smile that had been on Ashford's face left it. "There are a few charity bequests, but basically it divides the estate equally among my nephews and nieces. It's written like that, by the way. I drew it up a long time ago, left it open-ended in case I had any more nephews and nieces." He scowled. "Then Gavin and Amanda were killed ... so obviously, that didn't happen."

"I'm sorry, Mr Ashford," said Cassius. He sounded as if he meant it. Tonks was aware that she hadn't contributed much to the interview, but she was quite happy to let Cassius run with this sort of thing. He did it so smoothly. Watch and learn, girl, she thought wryly. As they left the room, she glanced back; Ashford had returned to staring blankly out of the magical window as if he were seeing something completely different.

*****

Wednesday 26^th August 1994

By the time Cassius' team assembled in a meeting room the following morning, Ashford's bodyguards were back on duty, and a somewhat chagrined O'Gregan explained that he had managed to cheer him up slightly "with a bit of the old blarney" (Tonks having seized her chance to tick him off for leaving the Ashford family background out of his case report). Rhiannon Davies reported that Rufus Scrimgeour's meeting had produced a lot of speculation and argument but little in the way of concrete plans (Cassius' I-told-you-so expression briefly flickered across his face). Magical Analysis had finally produced a report on the card sent with the poisoned chocolates. And Cornworthy had investigated the owl, and discovered that there wasn't going to be any help there.

"Whoever sent the chocolates must have done so directly from the World Cup campsite post office," he informed them. "I didn't think we were going to get anywhere with this. Those owls with the tags all came from the Owl Framer they had installed there, no way of tracing them." He sighed resignedly at everyone else's blank looks. "You know, those automatic postage gadgets? You hang your letter or package from the perch and say where you want it sent, and it's charmed to work out what breed of owl you'll need for the weight and estimated distance. It tells you how much money to put in the slot, then uses a short-range Portkey to put the right kind of owl on the perch for you. No clerk involved, completely anonymous you see."

"This Framer thing doesn't keep any records at all?" asked Tonks, disappointed.

"There's an enchanted quill that writes down the kind of owl, where it's going, and what the postage is, for accounting purposes," he explained. "But that's all. No use to us, except in that it does confirm a package to Ashford was posted from there on the Friday night. But there were hundreds of people in and out of that tent all the time, and I gather no-one was keeping an eye out for where people were going on the site?"

Tonks shook her head. "Not really. Everyone was just wandering about anywhere they wanted. You could have gone anywhere without being noticed, I suppose, especially if you had a disguise."

"And the card?" asked Rhiannon.

"Genuine, according to the report," said Cassius, waving a piece of parchment at them vaguely. "Not transfigured, not Copy Charmed, matches the ones she usually sends - Ashford's bodyguard spent some time looking around and found a couple of old ones in his house."

"But if she had them at the campsite anyone could have walked in while they were away, I should think," Tonks pointed out. "They only had fairly basic tents. The flaps would have had to be sealed against passing Muggles, but I should think a quick Alohomora would have got you in."

"So that narrows it down to about a hundred thousand suspects, then," said O'Gregan irritably. He slammed his fist down on the table, making everyone jump. "We ballsed this one up, didn't we? All merrily went off to the Quidditch and assumed no-one would be able to attack Ashford while everyone was at the World Cup. Didn't work out too well for the poor sod, did it?"

"True, but it didn't work out too well for our would-be murderess, either, did it?" said Rhiannon with satisfaction.

Cassius got their attention again by rapping hard on the table. "That's what we need to discuss, actually. I'm a trifle concerned that we may be making assumptions again, truth be told. For example, do we really think Miss Perks would be so foolish as to send her own card?"

The others looked at each other uncertainly. "She might have, sort of double-bluff," said Tonks slowly. "I don't like it much either, but the plan does sort of fit the pattern of the first attempt, doesn't it? You know, as if the criminal is willing to take a risk to get what they want, but sets up as many get-out clauses as they can? If the plan works, it just works and no-one's any the wiser - if it doesn't, it's not easy to prove who's really behind it, and they can wait for another chance. Both times, they had to have really bad luck before we could even be sure what happened, let alone pin it on someone. If it hadn't been for Don here, either one would have worked."

"You talked to those cousins, didn't you? Which of them would be capable of planning something like that, do you think?" asked Rhiannon.

"Only Charlotte, I'd say," said Tonks reluctantly. "I reckon Mickey's too impulsive, and Abby's too nervous. I mean, you've read the files too. But that Charlotte ... she did seem to have a head on her shoulders. And Ashford said she had nerve."

"With the stabbing attack it was this Portia Blackstock taking the action to set it up though," argued O'Gregan. "Where does she come into it? Could it have been Charlotte impersonating her that night?"

"It could have been, I suppose," said Tonks. "But we've seen Portia now. If that was Charlotte, she got her exactly right. And I stand by what I said before; it's not easy to do that with Transfiguration. Even if you're a Metamorphmagus. I can do a pretty good general impression of someone easily enough, but when I was impersonating Mrs Easton I had to really work hard to get her spot on."

"I'll second that," said Cassius. "I've Transfigured myself for a disguise many a time, but I was never confident about mimicking someone specific. And in this case, why would she have bothered? No-one there knew Portia Blackstock anyway, or if they did they weren't telling."

"If you use Polyjuice you get the look automatically, of course ..." mused Cornworthy.

"But you have the keep taking the bloody stuff," pointed out Rhiannon, "and like we said, you need a bit of who you're turning into - several bits if you want to make enough to keep up the disguise for a while. She'd have had to get that from somewhere, and then you run into the same problem again, why Portia of all people? Do they even know each other?"

Tonks picked up the case notes on the two women and quickly scanned through them. "Not much here, they're from different circles after all ... oh no, hang on, there's one thing." She looked up. "You were right, Cassius, they are both involved with that charity of yours. You know, the distressed half-bloods thing? It says here Charlotte does a bit of admin work for them, and Portia helps out with fundraising from time to time - probably just by turning up and looking pretty, I should think. It's not much, but it's the only link I can see here."

"Interesting," said O'Gregan. "Why would she and Portia have been working together to kill her uncle, though? It's not as if our Miss Blackstock needs the money, is it?"

"I don't know," admitted Tonks. "We'd have to look into it, wouldn't we?" A comment Cassius had made when they were discussing Portia at the World Cup flashed across her mind and gave her a somewhat hazy idea. She shook herself; wild guessing wasn't going to get them anywhere, whatever Amelia Bones said. But she did make a mental note to ask Ches why that Hogsmeade trip had been such as disaster.

The others were still arguing the possibilities. "The Blackstock girl could have been under Jacmel as well, couldn't she?" said Rhiannon. "We'd never be able to tell at this stage."

"But it would have been a risk giving her the stuff as well," pointed out O'Gregan. "Although I suppose they could have memory-charmed her afterwards?"

Cassius rapped on the table again. "I hate to mention it, but we're going around in circles here. Again. Let's try and find out some hard information." He smiled at them. "An Auror maxim from the old days: if in doubt, stop thinking and use brute force. I suggest that we take advantage of the new Wizengamot policy and get search warrants for their houses."

"The Blackstocks as well?" asked O'Gregan with interest. "Do you think we'll be able to get one now?"

"Good point," said Cassius. "Actually, I think I'll have a private word first with one or two Wizengamot members I know - yes, Archibald Blackstock isn't the only one with a few contacts - and see if I can gauge what the chances are. They don't know that we know Portia was apparently there, after all, and it's the one advantage we've got. If they are involved in this I don't want to risk tipping our hand.. Especially if the Wizengamot turn us down."

"What about looking into the potion itself?" asked O'Gregan. "We seem to be making a habit of cases with rare potions in them. It was a pretty obscure one, wasn't it now?"

"Yes, that book the Healers copied the notes from for me was really old," agreed Cornworthy. "Where would you find information about something like that?"

Tonks snapped her fingers suddenly. Everyone turned to look at her.

"Oh, I think I might know!" she said in excitement. "But I bet Lucretia Borgia didn't."