Nymphadora Tonks and the Liquor of Jacmel

26. The Mind's Eye

Monday 31st August 1994

Tonks found herself rather surprised by how tense she could manage to get while simply waiting for Kingsley in the Leaky Cauldron, especially when he failed to show on time. She had no idea what he wanted to tell her, after all, or what effect it would have on her.

As it happened, if she had known she might well have been unable to stand the wait.

It was about quarter past six when he finally arrived. Tonks tried not to fidget as he casually walked over to the bar, got himself a pint, then strolled over to her table in the corner.

"Cheers," he said, raising his tankard.

"Cheers yourself," she replied. "So, what did you want to talk to me about?"

"Input on your cousin, Tonks. There are certain things that ... give me pause for thought."

Tonks looked at him cautiously. "In what way?"

"People who should, by rights, think him guilty, who seem to think he may actually be innocent, despite the story he told being utterly ludicrous on the face of it," he said carefully. Tonks caught her breath as he paused. "And I want to know if you're one of them."

"No, I'm not," she said bluntly. "You asked me that before. Same answer as before. I'd curse him without a second thought if I saw him. OK, yes if by some miracle there was evidence he was innocent I'd love it, but there's rock-solid proof he's guilty, isn't there?" When he remained quiet, she added uncertainly, "Isn't there?"

He contemplated her for a few moments longer. "I'd like you to see the evidence, actually. How are you at keeping secrets?"

"Not bad. Why?"

"Because I'm not sure how well my team would take me talking to you about this."

Tonks felt a nervous tingle run along her spine, and hesitated; she really wanted to hear it, but ... "Look, Kingsley, I can't guarantee not to talk about something I should talk about," she said, with considerable reluctance, "so if this is dodgy, perhaps you'd better not tell me."

He looked at her thoughtfully. "Listen, you don't get very far in this job without trusting to your instincts," he said abruptly. "Or your judgement. I'm going to take a chance and show you some information from the case files. Now technically we're both quite within our rights to do this. All I ask is you don't spread it about. Not everybody in my team has all the information I have, or saw you in action at the World Cup, and some of them don't trust you at all."

"They don't even know me!" she said indignantly.

"Exactly."

Oh, right. Tonks wasn't sure what she might be getting into; but realised suddenly that she couldn't now bear not to hear whatever it was. "You have my word I'll keep it quiet - unless I really need to tell someone. OK?"

"And that you won't freelance. I don't want to get reports of you conducting your own little private investigation on the side that I didn't know about. That would be a complication too far."

Oh, right. She thought it over again as she sipped at her drink. "I can't promise that, Kingsley," she said eventually, with a sadness in her voice even she could hear. "If you told me something I needed to ... well, I don't think I could just sit back and do nothing. You must know that. It's just a case to you, after all. For me, for good or bad, it can't help but be personal." She picked up her bag and rose to leave, doing her best to hide a crushing feeling of disappointment.

"Wait a minute!" Kingsley looked at her in exasperation, and also stopped to think. "Look, young lady, I'd rather have you as an ally than an opponent on my case." He smiled mirthlessly. "And if I don't tell you anything now, you'll probably go poking around anyway, won't you?"

"Er ..." Her expression must have given her away.

"Oh, very well." He gave her a stern look. "I suppose that all I'm asking is, please don't get us both in trouble, Tonks. I'd like to be able to trust you."

Oh, right. "Fair enough," she said, shamefaced. "Look ... put this in your reports any way you like to cover your backside, Kingsley. I don't plan on doing anything stupid. I've had one verbal bollocking about freelancing from Claymore already, and he's in an even worse mood since he didn't get ... well, you know."

"Right." He looked around the pub with a trace of concern. "This is rather too public. We're only supposed to be having a bury-the-hatchet drink. Is there anywhere we can go that's more private?"

"Do you know where my flat is?"

He smiled at her. "Of course I do. We put tracer wards all round it when your cousin was spotted nearby, remember, in case he turned up there?"

"Right," she said, disgruntled. "OK. I'll go there now, you finish your drink and follow me in about a quarter of an hour, yeah?"

***

Tonks found herself waiting in trepidation again, but this time Shacklebolt turned up promptly at her door, still dressed in his Auror robes. She quickly bundled him inside, with a nervous look around in case her Muggle neighbours had seen him. They already thought she was a bit strange.

He inspected the lounge with interest. Tonks found herself wishing she'd tidied it just a little bit that morning. "You know," he said with a grin, "a few months ago, I'd have given a lot to get in here?"

"What?"

"To search for your cousin."

"Oh!"

Kingsley chuckled. "Don't worry, I'm not the sort to have any interest in whatever may be left of your virtue, am I?" He grinned again and sat down on the sofa next to her, pulling a small table towards him. "Now then, Tonks," he said, suddenly businesslike, "I spent a bit of time getting to work with the copy charms before I came to meet you, and I have a number of documents here you might want to look at - they're fixed so only you and me can read them, you understand. Firstly, though, I want to know what you know about your cousin's cases, so I know where to start."

"Right, well ..." Now it came to the point of actually talking about her cousin, Tonks found it surprisingly difficult. She shrugged. "I don't suppose I really know much more than the witch or wizard in the street. We've never really discussed it within the family."

"Maybe you should have," he pointed out. "Just tell me what you have heard."

"OK." She steeled herself. "Well, he was best friends with the Potters, and young Harry's godfather. I think he used to talk about them when he came round, it just didn't register at the time who he meant. Then he told You-Know-Who where to find them. Probably worked for him for ages. We heard all about that when the war ended. And I know now" - she gulped nervously - "that he was their Secret-Keeper. I only found that out when I was seventeen, right out of the blue. I was in a NEWT Charms lesson, and the teacher somehow got to discussing Fidelius as an example of an advanced charm, and he used what happened to show how you absolutely had to trust the Keeper." She smiled humourlessly. "I don't suppose I heard a word of the rest of the lesson. It took me about a quarter of an hour even to notice that other people in the class were shooting me funny looks."

"I can understand that," he said slowly. "And the events of the following day?"

"Only what I saw in the paper. Mum and Dad owled me at Hogwarts to tell me not to read it, but of course I sneaked a copy out the common room and took it up to bed that night. My pillow was absolutely soaked with tears in the morning. As I understand it" - her eyes were annoyingly moist now - "a friend of theirs - Paul Pettigrew? - caught up with him, and he blew him up and took out half a street and a load of Muggle bystanders as well. The report said he just stood there laughing then till they came to take him away, but I suppose that was made up for the sake of a good story?"

Kingsley shook his head, to her surprise. "No, that's exactly what he did. The man's name was Peter, by the way. I've got the accurate reports here - you'll probably want to read them at your leisure." He gave her a half-smile. "Try not to soak your pillow this time."

Tonks returned the slight smile. "Oh well, I know a good drying charm now. But ... why? Why didn't he just Apparate away while he had time?"

"I don't know," said Kingsley with a shrug. "For what it's worth, my theory always was it was the point where what had happened finally caught up with him, mentally. You know, he'd killed three of his supposed best friends, and a dozen Muggles who were literally lying in pieces all around him, and the way things had turned out he wasn't even going to have a glorious career as You-Know-Who's second-in-command to show for it ... You can see how that could have turned his mind."

"What did he say at the trial? Or is that under a Secrecy Order from the Ministry? I never managed to find a report of it in the paper."

He snickered. "I'm not surprised. There never was a trial."

"What?" Tonks was more shocked by this piece of information than she could have believed possible.

"The Emergency Powers Act was still in force," he said with a shrug. "Our Head of Department - not Boney, her predecessor, old Crouch - just signed an order to send him directly to Azkaban. No-one was much bothered about trials at the time. Here's a one-way ticket, Mr Black, say goodbye to your happy memories. Welcome to hell on earth. I hate going to the place, but I suppose it works."

"Serves him right," said Tonks, quietly but forcefully, annoyed to hear a slight note of doubt in her tone. "And it didn't work for him, did it?" She was pleased that her righteous anger was more clearly audible this time.

"That's another thing we can't explain," he said, making Tonks raise her eyebrows. "Some idiot in the paper said he'd been gathering his strength for a breakout all this time, but you don't gather strength around Dementors, you lose it. For the record, we have no real idea how he did it."

Tonks lay back against the cushions and thought, hard. "Do recent events make any better sense?"

He smiled at her. "I don't know. What did you hear?"

"I heard he tried to get into Hogwarts at least three times over the last year," she said promptly. "Then back in June, the Prophet said they actually caught him there, but he got away again. Not much detail, though. I got a few bits of gossip second-hand from Rhiannon Davies via her cousin - something about young Harry Potter and his mates and Dementors being involved. Why aren't they reporting it?"

"Because we're 'trying to avoid letting Black realise how much we know'," he said, shrugging. "In other words, the facts make us look bad, so we don't tell them anything we don't have to. Standard Ministry response. As to what actually happened, it's not easy to piece together? We only have two first-hand witness accounts, from the Potions and Defence teachers at the school - well, ex-Defence teacher. And they always were enemies, and don't agree at all on a lot of points."

Tonks slapped her forehead in sudden recollection of another Prophet leading article. "The Defence teacher? The one who turned out to be a werewolf, you mean? Forgot to take his potion, ran off into the Forest, and got the sack when he finally decided to crawl back home in the morning?"

"That's the one. Remus Lupin - talk about names coming back to bite you! We hauled him in for an interview the day after he left." He dug out a roll of parchment from his bag and handed it to her. "I've made a copy of the transcript for you ..."

Tonks blanched. "Kingsley, there's yards of it! Can't you just tell me the important bits?"

He grinned. "You use an Auto-Dictation Quill, you get everything, right down to the ums and ers. OK, let me summarise ... Lupin's apparently been a werewolf since he was a young kid, well before he went to school. He used to transform out in the Shrieking Shack as a pupil ..."

"The Shrieking Shack? That haunted house in Hogsmeade?"

"Apparently it's not really haunted. He said those friends he always went around with - Black, Potter's dad, and Pettigrew - found out and stuck by him, which was decent of them. Then he said Pettigrew decided it would be really cool if he could turn into an animal too, and eventually persuaded the others to help him work out how to do the Animagus transformation." He smiled at Tonks' raised eyebrows. "Completely illegal, of course, but I don't suppose they'd have cared. He said they didn't realise at the time ..."

"Yeah, right."

Kingsley snorted. "I don't think it's likely either, but when I checked I found that technically, they wouldn't have been breaking the law. There's a duty on Animagi to register, but not on anyone else to turn them in if they don't. So he said Pettigrew could turn into a rat, and when he arrived in the Shack to find Black and the kids there ..."

"Which kids? Harry Potter, presumably, who else?"

"His two best friends. Ronald Weasley - one of Arthur Weasley's sons; you know, the man who works down the corridor from us in Misuse of Muggle Artefacts? - and one Hermione Granger, who's a Muggle-born, top of the class though apparently. According to Lupin, he knew they were all friends with Rubeus Hagrid ..."

"The gamekeeper? Huge, lots of beard, nice enough bloke but a bit batty about monsters?"

"That's the one," he said, with a look of mild annoyance. "Tonks, do you think maybe you could just let me finish without interrupting all the time?"

"Sorry. Go on."

"Yes, well, er, Lupin," he said, evidently trying to regather his thread. "He thought they might sneak out to see Hagrid, who'd been upset because they were going to execute a dangerous Hippogriff of his that evening. So his story is he was watching on one of those security maps showing the castle and grounds" - he paused, apparently expecting another interruption, and continued with a slightly surprised look when Tonks didn't make one - "and he saw Pettigrew on there with them. Then he saw Black arrive and drag Weasley and Pettigrew into a tunnel that led to the Shack, and the other two chase after them. He said he was so shocked he forgot what night it was, forgot everything, and ran down there in a panic as fast as he could."

He paused, and continued in a more thoughtful tone. "This is where it gets even odder. Apparently Black managed - somehow - to convince both him and the children that Pettigrew was still alive and being kept as a pet rat by the Weasley boy, and that he was the one he'd been after, not Potter. Lupin said he noticed the rat had a toe missing, so he found Black's contention that Pettigrew had cut it off himself before vanishing plausible. You wanted to ask a question, by the look of you?"

"Yes," said Tonks, embarrassed. "OK, suppose for the sake of argument Pettigrew was still alive and could turn into a rat? I wouldn't blame him for getting away from Si ...my cousin any way he could. He'd already killed fourteen people, hadn't he? I suppose staying in hiding all these years would be a bit excessive once he knew he was in Azkaban, but ..." She trailed off uncertainly.

Kingsley nodded in approval. "That was Black's point too. He claimed the Potters switched to Pettigrew as Secret-Keeper as a bluff; and he was tracking him down for revenge, not the other way round; and that Pettigrew blew a hole in the street as a diversion, then vanished into the sewers below as a rat. So far, so implausible, but Lupin insists he actually performed the Homorphus Charm on the boy's rat; and lo and behold it turned into Pettigrew, who had no good explanation. So they started off for the castle to show him to the authorities and clear Black's name - but the moon rose, Lupin turned into a wolf, and Pettigrew escaped in the confusion."

"How very inconvenient," said Tonks sarcastically.

"Yes - or very convenient, take your pick. Then the Dementors who were guarding the gates turned up looking for Black, and nobody's quite sure what happened after that until Snape woke up and saw them leaving." He nodded again at Tonks' raised eyebrows. "It's quite an ingenious story, really, although in the absence of Pettigrew in whatever form there's no proof, of course."

"Do you believe him?" asked Tonks, with a shrewd look.

"He didn't seem like he thought he was lying," said Kingsley, cautiously, and (to Tonks' mind) rather evasively. "And both Fudge and Dumbledore believe he went to rescue the kids. I wasn't able to get a Veritaserum warrant for him at the time, but it wouldn't necessarily have helped, because the other teacher's theory - or one of them, anyway - is that the whole lot had been Confunded by Black. And in that case Lupin would have told exactly the same story under Truth Potion, and believed it. That was a known Death Eater trick, after all."

Tonks nodded. She remembered Featherstone discussing the theory. "It was a big thing he'd have had to make him believe, though - change his whole childhood, almost? Wouldn't it have worn off by now? If you asked him again, he might have a different story?"

"Not necessarily. It depends on the strength of the charm. And I haven't had the time to go up to Leeds and match wits with him ..." He trailed off with a thoughtful look. "Come to think of it, though, it might be worth applying for a warrant again now in the current climate ..."

"Worth a try. How come they didn't all get bitten, by the way?" asked Tonks as another fishy aspect of the situation struck her. She wasn't at all happy with Lupin's story, and suspected Kingsley might be recounting it the way he was to test her powers of analysis. "On his own admission, they were right next to a transforming werewolf who'd missed his dose of Wolfsbane. It's not like you can just Stun a werewolf, is it? It bounces off. You'd expect someone would have been hurt."

He looked pleased by the question. "Well, he said that although he hadn't had the last dose, he'd already taken enough of the stuff over the previous few days to keep a measure of control and awareness once the initial shock of the change was past. He said he felt he could smell humans in the Forest too, so he was able to force himself to run off towards them by telling himself that, and then of course once he was inside there weren't any there to tempt him."

"Is that right?" asked Tonks sceptically. "I thought a werewolf had to take the full course?"

Kingsley shrugged again. "I checked with Werewolf Support Services and with St Mungo's. If the potion's brewed properly, a dose or two in the week before the full moon can be enough. The effect's cumulative, and the closer to the full moon it's taken, the more effective it is. So I think he probably was just about sane and human enough to be able to do what he claimed. He certainly seemed very ashamed of himself for forgetting how much time had passed. The school Potions Master brewed the Wolfsbane for him, so it should have been adequately prepared."

Tonks scowled. "The Potions Master? Snape? He taught me. Miserable git, but to be fair I suppose he did know his stuff."

"He wasn't much different as a boy, from what little I can remember. My assistant spoke to him the day after but reported that the man seemed almost insane, so I don't know how much faith to put in his story. He had a lot to say for himself, though. There's another dozen or so yards of parchment here for you to examine if you want."

Tonks flipped through the roll. "Yippee."

He gave her a cynical grin. "He's convinced Black is guilty, thinks there's an excellent chance he and Lupin were working together, swears blind there was no sign of Pettigrew as either rat or human, and is sure Potter and his friends helped Black get away. Although since they were all out cold when he brought them back to the castle, and the kids were locked in the hospital wing after that, I think he's barking up the wrong tree there. Our Professor Snape has a nice little range of conspiracy theories, reluctantly accepts the logical possibility that they were Confunded, but feels sure Lupin and Potter were in cahoots because of the map."

"I see." Tonks felt overwhelmed by all this new information, unsure what to query first. "That security map," she said, seizing on the most concrete thing she could think of. "Where the hell did the werewolf get that from, even if he was teaching Defence? I thought maps of public buildings were strictly controlled? And why would Snape think it had anything to do with Potter?"

Kingsley burst out laughing. "Oh, now that's a tale. Lupin said he first saw one as a teenager, when he came to the Ministry for his annual sign-in on the Werewolf Register. He and his friends decided a map showing where the teachers and prefects were would be a most useful thing to have, and somehow managed to find out how you made one. Before you ask, Potter and Black were top of the class, they were well known for it. Lupin claims the caretaker eventually impounded it, and assumes young Harry must have discovered it somehow and appropriated it for his own use. Snape's theory is that Lupin had the map all the time and gave it to Potter to wreak havoc with. Apparently he caught him with it, but didn't realise what it was, and Lupin spirited them both away. Our Professor Snape was literally spitting mad about that. Lupin cheerfully confesses to getting Potter out of trouble for old times' sake, but maintains he was as shocked as Snape, confiscated the map, and kept it to watch them with."

"Why wouldn't Black conceal himself then?" argued Tonks. "If he'd done any scouting, he must have known Lupin was back, and might have the map and be watching for him ..." She suddenly recalled a book seen at Lore of Yore, and decided to take a chance on impressing Kingsley. "There's a Nonmappability spell you can use to counteract the charms and keep you off those maps, isn't there?" She crossed her fingers, hoping that it wasn't meant for buildings.

"Oh very good, Tonks," he said, sounding pleased again. "You've really done your research, haven't you? Yes, there is, but it's a rather complex Reactive Charm - you have to get within the magically mapped area first to cast it. And it needs a wand, of course, and we're not sure he's got one."

That reminded her of what Kingsley had said when they'd had their big argument. "He didn't have one when he was spotted near my place, did he? What happened to his wand after he was caught?"

He chuckled. "It's currently residing in a display case in the Departmental Dark Museum. They do like to have a murder wand to put on show. He's welcome to drop by to fetch it, of course ..."

Murder wand? 'Having the murder wand available is always useful, we so rarely have that luxury.' She say up suddenly; mercifully, her ability to think clearly seemed to be returning, and her mind just seemed to keep making connections at the moment. She mentally kicked herself for forgetting to ask about such an obvious piece of evidence. "What were the ... er, spell echoes?" she said curiously. "The echo from the blasting spell must have been clear proof. The wand would have been confiscated as soon as they arrested him, yeah?"

"Oh, it was," said Kingsley bitterly. "But they didn't get anything useful from it."

Tonks stared at him. "They didn't? How come?"

"Because one of the Hit Wizards who arrested him tried to act tough. Damn fool was probably scared out of his wits. He waved the wand in Black's face and shouted that they could prove what the last spell he cast was." He snorted. "The imbecile cast Prior Incantato instead of Priori Incantatem, so he only got the last spell. It wouldn't have mattered if he'd kept going, but he didn't - you only get one chance to extract spell echoes, you know, once you separate the wand tips it erases the record. So we lost an opportunity to prove him guilty, not that there was much doubt. That last spell was just an ordinary Accio, by the way."

"A Summoning spell? What the hell was he trying to Summon?"

Kingsley threw his hands up. "I don't know. It wasn't as if he was exactly sane, was it?"

"Right." She looked away, unsure quite what to make of this piece of data. "This map. What happened to it when Professor Wolf-Man left?"

"He claims he left it with the Headmaster to donate to the new Defence teacher if he felt so inclined. I'll assume that's true until I hear different from Dumbledore."

"You haven't interviewed him?" said Tonks in astonishment.

Kingsley gave her a sideways look that she thought seemed decidedly shifty. "He dropped in at the Ministry to make a statement before he flew off to Stockholm. Unfortunately, young Rawlins was the only one of my team on duty at the time, and he doesn't like taking the initiative, especially when overawed by someone like Dumbledore. So he just wrote down what he said and didn't ask many questions. The old man said he thought Black might have been telling the truth, by the way," he added casually.

"He did?" Tonks gaped at him. When Kingsley had told her that unexpected people had believed that Sirius might be innocent, she'd assumed he just meant members of his Auror team, not Dumbledore. She could feel her brain threatening to fog up again. "You said you only had two witnesses. Didn't you interview the kids?"

"No," said Kingsley with a look of annoyance. "The word we got from both Fudge and Dumbledore was that we shouldn't bother them."

"Why not?" asked Tonks, astonished yet again.

"Damned if I know. Well, as far as Fudge is concerned, I think he wanted to kill discussion of what happened as quickly as possible in case the Prophet slated him for letting Black get away - literally from under his nose. And to be fair to old Dumbledore, he tries to keep his students away from outside interference. He statement said the kids haven't pressed him about the matter, and 'therefore it seems they may have accepted the idea that they were Confunded'. Make of that what you will."

"What did the Minister say when you interviewed him?"

Kingsley raised his eyebrows. "You have got to be joking, Tonks. We have a signed statement from his office, basically saying none of what happened was his fault, and we were lucky to get that."

"The Dementors?" said Tonks, without much expectation.

"Ha ha. They don't know what happened and they don't care. They're just furious that Black got away again. No-one seems to know why they left, by the way. Another mystery. Maybe Black managed a Patronus before they all collapsed."

"Right ... When did Siri ... Bla ... er, my ... oh, you know. When did he escape? How did he escape?" Tonks flushed, annoyed with herself.

Kingsley looked at her sharply, but evidently decided to let it go. "When is easy enough," he said calmly. "A little before midnight. Dumbledore was the one who actually interviewed Black - by the sound of it, Fudge was too scared to stay and say more than a few words to him, despite the fact that he had the company of the most powerful wizard in the world and Black was Incarcerated anyway." He snorted. "Anyway, our Fearless Leader ordered MacNair - the executioner he brought for that Hippogriff - to fetch a Dementor, then shot off to talk to Snape. Dumbledore offered to try to get Black to confess, but he gave up on that at about 11.45 and left him to go and check on the kids."

He paused. "But as to how he got away? That's a bloody good question, Tonks. He was magically bound to a chair, in an office that contained nothing more helpful than some third-year Charms essays, on the seventh floor of a tower with sheer walls, and with the door and windows spell-locked. When MacNair got back with the Dementor, they found the window open and Black gone. And there you have the story. Any theories?"

"Not really." Tonks lay back on the sofa and thought hard again. "This MacNair. He couldn't have been one of You-Know-Who's lot once and decided to help an old comrade get away, could he?"

Kingsley shook his head regretfully. "He's a nasty piece of work - enjoys his job too much for my taste, friend of your uncle even - but there's no evidence of an actual Death Eater past. I took advantage of Boney providing us with extra resources to have him checked out, but he came up clean. And there were witnesses when he got back to the room. Good idea though."

"Thanks." Tonks smiled to hide her disappointment that Kingsley had already thought of it. She racked her brains to think of possibilities he might not have come up with. "He couldn't ... oh I don't know, have been another Animagus, assuming they weren't lying or Confunded about Pettigrew? Maybe had a go at it himself on the quiet once he'd found out to help his mate? He could have turned into a - a bird or a bat or something and flown away?"

Kingsley chuckled. "My, my, Tonks. You're showing more original thought this evening than some of my team have in the last year!" He quickly sobered. "Actually, I did sort of consider that briefly when Lupin mentioned it. It half explains some of the things that happened - even how he could have got away from Azkaban, perhaps - although it doesn't account for how he got the window open without a wand. I'm not even sure you could transform while Incarcerated."

"I can Metamorphose," offered Tonks. "Did it several times during Evasion and Escape training. Came in quite handy."

"Interesting," mused Kingsley. "I wonder if the same applies to Animagi too? That's a learned talent, not an innate one. There's only one currently registered flying Animagus, and he's an Auror. I'll have to ask him. Very interesting information."

Tonks turned her head sharply at the phrase. He'd used it at the World Cup, and she berated herself for letting herself forget again. "That's a point, Kingsley," she said, feeling her way warily. "You've told me a lot of stuff, but last time we talked you said you'd just got something new, and you weren't sure what to make of it." When he didn't reply, she prodded him with her elbow impatiently. "So? Are you going to tell me what it was? Having got this far, you might as well ..."

He studied her carefully, at great enough length that she was preparing to elbow him again, then sighed heavily. "I suppose I might. In for a Knut, in for a Galleon. Yes, I have some potentially disquieting new information." He rummaged through his bag again; then handed her a copy of a longish letter written in a narrow handwriting on moderately familiar-looking headed paper. He smiled briefly. "See what you make of this ..."

Tonks took the letter. As she read it, her jaw began to drop open without her realising:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore

Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards

Dear Kingsley,

I hope you will forgive the informality of this personal note, but as I understand it, you are currently the man who is charged with the responsibility of locating and recapturing Sirius Black. Naturally, I must first offer you my congratulations for reaching such a position of responsibility at so relatively young an age. Although your talents were manifest while you were studying here, it is always a pleasure to see one of my former students succeed in living up to their potential.

As you know, I have already related to a colleague of yours at the Ministry a brief outline of the happenings of the evening of the sixth of June as they presented themselves to me. But it seems to me possible that in the rush of events, I may perhaps have failed to explain my impressions with sufficient clarity. I would therefore consider it a kindness if you would allow me to both reemphasise and expand upon what I said on that occasion.

I must confess that when I volunteered to interview Mr Black that night, my main motivation was an intense personal curiosity about his role in the events surrounding Hallow'een 1981, which have haunted me ever since. I had never been able to comprehend what could possibly have led him to betray his friends and colleagues in such a manner, and my hope was that he might be able to provide some shred of self-justification that would at least enable me to understand what his motivations had been, even though I could not possibly agree with them.

When I confronted him, however, to my astonishment he instead recounted a very different and most unexpected story, one that I discovered subsequently he had told to my former Defence teacher Professor Lupin, and my pupils Messrs Potter and Weasley and Miss Granger, while they were all together in the building that is colloquially known as the 'Shrieking Shack'.

His contention, as of course you will recall, was that Peter Pettigrew was both an illegal Animagus with a rat form, and the true Secret-Keeper for Lily and James Potter; that he had in fact been the real traitor among those sworn to oppose Lord Voldemort thirteen years ago; and that he had himself committed the multiple murders and then faked his own death in order to escape when Mr Black hunted him down the following day (with, it must be admitted, revenge in mind). This story, and his claim that Mr Pettigrew was unmasked during the confrontation in the Shack, dovetails perfectly with the stories told by my students that night, and with that of Professor Lupin when I was able to interview him the following morning.

As you are doubtless aware, Professor Snape was also present at this scene, although unfortunately not conscious for much of the time. He has formed the reasonable conclusion, based on the events that he was personally in a position to witness, that my students had been subjected to a powerful Confundus Charm; and stated as much at the time to Minister Fudge, who was visiting the castle on business. I understand that he feels that Professor Lupin was either also under the influence of such a Charm, or indeed was assisting Mr Black throughout the year. However, the three students concerned have subsequently shown no signs of the mental disorientation that is the typical after-effect of being Confunded, and as you know, I have stated my belief that Black's version of events is in fact the true story.

You may well have wondered how I was able to do so with such confidence. On reflection, I am afraid that it is probably time for another confession. One of the many obscure branches of magic that I have found it necessary to study in my time is that of Legilimency, or what is often colloquially (albeit imprecisely) known as 'mind reading'. I am sure that you will be familiar with the concept from your training, although I understand that it is not commonly taught to Aurors because of the great length of time usually required to achieve any degree of proficiency. The normal version of this technique uses an incantation, of course, but I am sufficiently practised with wandless Legilimency that if I so desire I am generally able to know when someone is lying to me, especially when it is possible to make eye contact. You may perhaps now realise why it was that my students were seldom able to convince me that they were telling the truth if the situation was otherwise!

Naturally, given the limited time that was available to me to interview Sirius Black, I opted to use Legilimency - as you are of course aware, one of the privileges of my senior position on the Wizengamot is the right to use such intrusive methods on my own authority in an emergency situation. Greatly to my surprise, however, not only did Black not attempt to resist, he actually begged me to use the most powerful version of the technique available to me to examine his mind and his memories. I did so, and was further astonished to discover that he appeared to be speaking with absolute sincerity, about both Mr Pettigrew's abilities and his guilt. The story that he told, while extraordinary, nevertheless explained many little details that I remembered about both his behaviour and that of Peter Pettigrew in the year of 1981 in a manner that finally made sense.

It is of course possible for a master Occlumens, or the truly insane, to succeed in concealing any contradictory thoughts and giving a false impression even under such pressure, but such abilities are extremely rare and usually require frequent practice to be effective. Inasmuch as it is within my power to determine, I feel sure that Sirius Black fell into neither category. I used all the skills that I possess to probe his mind extensively using the most powerful techniques available, and found it, although (not unnaturally) slightly unbalanced, to be very clear and open.

I would therefore regard it as a personal favour if you would give serious consideration during your investigations to the possibility that his story may in fact be the truth. As you will of course have realised, if Black's story is indeed true, certain consequences follow logically:

Firstly, a great injustice will have been done to an innocent man who has suffered terribly in Azkaban, and is still a fugitive unable to make any attempt to resume his life.

Secondly, the time and resources that the Ministry are currently directing towards his recapture will be misdirected, wasteful, and potentially misleading, especially if it is contended that he had a hand in the recent disturbances at the Quidditch World Cup.

But finally, and most importantly, Peter Pettigrew will be a fugitive once again, and may well be intending to return to his old master now that he has nowhere else to go. If he were to succeed in locating Lord Voldemort and assisting him to regain his old powers - and I have reason to believe that he would know where to begin looking - the consequences for the peace of our world can only be terrible. I cannot emphasise enough that we ignore this prospect at our very great peril.

You are of course free to make use of this information in whatever manner you wish. I would consider it a kindness, however, if you would restrict its circulation to those who are able to make direct use of it, as far as may reasonably be possible. I would not wish to interfere in the workings of the Ministry, nor indeed to raise any suggestion that I appear to be doing so.

I am, yours most sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

***

There was silence in Tonks' flat for at least five minutes after she reached the end of Dumbledore's letter. She had no idea what to say; she found herself reading it again and then yet again, trying to come to terms with its deeply unsettling contents. Kingsley just sat and watched her, with an amused expression.

"Wow," she said weakly, when the silence had stretched out to the point where she felt she had to say something.

"What do you make of it?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know. The old man's a Legilimens, eh? Wow." She gave an uncertain laugh. "Explains one thing anyway. I thought I was being so clever at school meeting his eyes when I was denying any knowledge of the mischief I'd just got into. I never could work out how he knew I was lying through my teeth. Guess I hexed myself in the foot there, eh?"

"I'll ask you the same question you asked me a few minutes ago," said Kingsley, still in a very quiet but surprisingly intense voice. "Do you believe him?"

Tonks looked up at him. "I don't know," she said in a similar tone. "I don't know, Kingsley. I ... I suppose I want to, but ... oh, it just can't be true. Can ... can it? What do your team think?"

He looked her directly in the eye. "They don't. I haven't told them." He smiled as she gasped. "I discussed with them once what might happen if we found Black and had to put him under Imperius, or interrogate him under Veritaserum. The consensus was that if he had the mental strength to resist the Dementors all those years, and still talk rationally to Fudge when he visited, he might well be able to throw off both of those things. I don't know enough about Legilimency - yet - to know if that would work the same way, and I don't especially feel like looking a fool in front of my whole team by raising outlandish theories. But as I said once, I'm sure there's a part of you, deep down, that really does want to believe your cousin is innocent. And now I'll ask you again what I asked you then. What would you do about it?"

"Did you know this when you asked me before?" she said with asperity.

He shook his head. "No. As far as I knew then, you were just a brash young Auror with dubious relatives, and Rawlins was an idiot for taking down Dumbledore's statement wrong and making it sound as if he'd said something obviously ridiculous. Then I got this letter, round about the time you were chasing after that woman down on the south coast, and that rather wiped the smile off my face. So again. What do you intend to do about it?"

"So again. I don't know. When I came to talk to you, I thought you were going to tell me ... where you thought he was hiding out or something. I didn't think of this." What exactly do you expect me to say, Kingsley? You drop this on me out of the blue when I've spent a decade not knowing what I wanted to think about it, and my mum's spent a decade just plain not wanting to think about it, and you expect a quick answer? Dream on. "What do you want me to do? Do you really not want me to freelance, or was that just for show?"

He smiled wryly. "Well, I wasn't sure how you'd react. I've been taking some hard thinking time over the last few weeks, and I'm not sure how I react. I never quite understood myself why Black did it - it seemed so unlike him - and then when I got the letter, well ..."

"You take Dumbledore seriously, then? You're not just doing this to humour the old man?"

Kingsley snorted so loudly that Tonks jumped; the sudden noise made her realise just how quietly they'd been talking. "Not take him seriously?" he said incredulously. "Everybody takes Dumbledore seriously!" He pointed to the heading of the letter and smiled faintly. "When a man who is not only Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot - and thus technically, in some ways, our boss - but also the titular head of the International Confederation of Wizards asks me as a 'personal favour' to give something serious consideration, then yes, I damn well give it serious consideration. He may have the conceit of liking to think of himself as only Headmaster of Hogwarts, not involved in politics, but let me tell you, he's a powerful man - he has a lot of contacts and a lot of influence, regardless of anything Minister Fudge does or doesn't do. So yes, I take him bloody seriously."

"Fair point," said Tonks, feeling slightly abashed. An icy feeling seemed to be creeping up her spine as what she'd read slowly sunk in. "Kingsley, do you get the feeling there's something ... odd going on here?" When he nodded, she added, "You don't really think there's a chance Pettigrew might be out there helping You-Know-Who to come back, do you?"

"I don't know what to think. But like the man said, it does fit better with the little details I know, and we do ignore the possibility at our peril."

Tonks swallowed. "Kingsley? You know something? You're scaring me."

"Good. I'm scaring me."

Tonks threw up her hands. Wait a minute ... "What 'little details?' And come to think of it, what did you mean when you said it 'seemed so unlike him'?" she asked in a suspicious voice. "Kingsley, did you know Unc ... Sirius Black before all this happened?"

"Ah." He did, at least, look embarrassed. "Everyone knew Black and Potter when I was at school. I didn't know them well, you understand, they were in a different year, but you couldn't help noticing them and hearing all about them. Neither of them could ever have faded into the background if they'd tried. It would never have crossed my mind that either of them would betray the other."

Tonks shifted on her seat. There was another person involved she wasn't convinced about. "What about this teacher - the werewolf? You said he was one of their gang too, do you really trust him? Could they have been working together all year and fooled everybody?"

He shook his head. "Lupin? No. Dumbledore trusted him, for a start, and you'd have to be pretty good to fool Dumbledore for a whole year. And he wasn't even there when Black was having his mind sifted through, so he didn't have any chance to influence things. I'm sure there's something he wasn't telling me, but I don't think it's that. And Black hasn't been spotted at his house."

"How do you kn ... oh right. Tracer wards round the Wolf's Lair, like the ones you put on my flat. How reliable are they?"

He pursed his lips, hesitating. "I'm not sure I should tell you ... oh what the hell, with what I've told you already I suppose I've already made the decision to trust you, haven't I? They're keyed to Black's personal aura; we took an imprint of it when he went into Azkaban, of course. They'd automatically trigger as soon as he crossed the line - well, unless someone had Transfigured him into a rabbit or a hat or something, maybe." He smiled wryly. "Oh, and you probably shouldn't refer to Lupin as 'the werewolf'? I know it's easy to get into bad habits around Auror HQ, but to be fair they're just people when the moon isn't full."

"Hey, I know that," she said defensively. "I've read Hairy Snout, Human Heart. It was a set book for NEWTs. And yes, some of the ones I've met have been OK, but most of them do seem a bit shifty, frankly. Can't look you in the eye."

Kingsley smiled. "I'm not surprised, if they know you're from the Ministry. You know, I get that feeling sometimes when I'm out and about in Muggle London?"

"Why? They can't possibly realise you're a wizard, surely?" said Tonks, baffled.

"No, no, it's because of my skin colour," he said with amusement.

"Your skin colour? But that's just ridic ... oh."

"Exactly." He gave her an ironic little nod. "Still, I'm no better. I seem to remember telling you I didn't trust Blacks. A lot of their law enforcement people don't seem to trust ... well, blacks, actually, as far as I can tell. We sort by blood, they sort by colour. Same difference, I suppose."

"I suppose." Tonks glanced at the clock and raised her eyebrows; it was getting surprisingly late, and she knew she would need time to digest all this. "Right, mate," she said briskly, "Let's get down to business, shall we? You still haven't said what you want from me. I want to find out more, obviously, but I don't want to get the sack for sticking my nose in where I'm not wanted."

"I'm not asking you to," he said quietly. "I would like your help to explore ... well, the background to the case, for a start. Use your family connections to find out what the people who knew him best really thought. Maybe get an idea of where he might hide out, who might take him in, whether he could have access to money or other helpful resources. I'd really like to ... well, let's say 'have a word or two' with your cousin."

"I see," she said. "In other words, you want me to play some long shots, that can't get you in trouble whatever happens? Thus demonstrating you really can trust me, and we'll take it from there?"

He smiled. "I knew you were sharp. Yes, that's about it."

Flattery will get you ... well, somewhere I suppose. Hang on. Hideouts? "Are you sure he hasn't gone back to the old family home? He was seen in London, after all. It must be empty now since old Ma Black popped her clogs. Or did she disinherit him?"

"Apparently not. I looked up its history - it seems there's a tradition, maybe even an entail, that it goes to the oldest male Black regardless. So under her will he's now the legal owner. Assuming he could get in, of course. We couldn't even find it exactly - his old man turned it into some kind of fortress - but we put tracer wards on the whole square and a half-mile radius around it, and he hasn't tripped them yet."

"Doesn't the fact that he was in Azkaban make any difference to the will?"

He shook his head. "No, under the Statute of Wizarding Inheritance, criminal convictions don't generally affect property rights. Not only can he inherit, in fact, but the next in line is probably your aunt as his eldest surviving cousin."

Tonks groaned. "Mad Aunt Bella? Wonderful. Isn't there any way to prevent that?"

Kingsley grinned. "If she did us a favour by bumping him off, perhaps. Apparently, in a moment of common sense sometime last century, the Wizengamot decided it would be reasonable to stop people profiting from their crimes - so under the Statute, you aren't allowed to inherit anything from your murder victim, unless there's a specific inheritance enchantment requiring it." He grinned at Tonks' look of disbelief. "Yes, there were pureblood families that considered fratricide of lesser consequence than dynastic preservation. Not to be rude, but I wouldn't be at all surprised if your mother's family were one of them."

Tonks snorted. "Neither would I." She could feel a headache coming on. "Look, Kingsley, can we leave it here? Please, mate. I need time to take this all in."

"No problem. I'll see you around at work, obviously. Keep that stuff out of sight, just in case, and have a quiet word in my ear if you find anything out. We'll all be working on the case as usual." He picked up his bag and looked around. "Can I Apparate out?"

"What? Oh, yes," she said distractedly. "That's not blocked or anything."

"Good." He nodded at her and smiled knowingly. "Well, thank you for inviting me, Tonks. I'll leave you to your thinking then." With that, he vanished with a small popping sound.

Tonks glanced around her flat with unseeing eyes. She didn't realise it for a moment, but she had started to tremble from the delayed shock reaction. Then she quickly scooped up the rolls of parchment, took them into her bedroom, and stashed them away in the small secret compartment at the bottom of her wardrobe. Although it was charmed against both magical and non-magical intrusion, she had rarely had any real use for it before.

She added another password charm for good measure, then glanced into her mirror, and was not at all surprised to see someone rather frazzled looking back.

"You look terrible, dear," said the mirror in a tone of concern. "Rough night?"

"Rough?" said Tonks with a dull laugh. "You're not kidding,"