Nymphadora Tonks and the Liquor of Jacmel

41. An Auror's Lot Is Not A Happy One

Monday 2^nd November 1994

The couple of hours that followed their sudden arrival in St Mungo's Auror Emergency Ward were complete chaos.

She left Williamson to explain what had happened to the hospital staff, while she found a quiet spot in the hallway to notify the Department of recent events. Frustratingly, the only person she could reach on her mirror phone was a harassed duty Auror, who ran through a list of routine questions in between other calls on his time, scratched out rough notes, and promised to tell O'Gregan just as soon as Egbert Claymore and Rufus Scrimgeour had finished with him. When she broke the connection she was left with an uneasy feeling that he hadn't quite grasped the situation.

She returned to find Williamson arguing with a sharp-nosed middle-aged Healer, who appeared to have taken offence at something he'd said. "And how am I supposed to treat my patient with you hovering over me and getting in the way?" she was asking in a clipped voice. "I have a job to do!"

"So do we! Listen, Lethbridge, I am not letting that little bastard out of my sight! He's a murder ... suspect." He bit out the word 'suspect' as if it hurt him to use it.

Tonks groaned and hastened over to try to calm them both down. "Look, Healer, I'm sure you don't want a guard, but this is a dangerous man," she said as placatingly as she could. "He just -" she swallowed, as the memory made her gorge rise "- used the Killing Curse on our colleague in an attempt to escape. I'm sorry, but we have to guard him."

The Healer pursed her lips, but nodded in understanding. "I see. Well, you needn't worry about your prisoner escaping. We've mended the worst of the damage, but he'll be out of it a while yet, and even then we'll need to keep him sedated. For the moment, you'll have to wait out here and watch while we work, I'm afraid."

"Fair enough," said Tonks before Williamson could say anything. She glared at him and chivvied him out of Clark Hallendale's room. They sat and stared at each other while Healer Lethbridge busied herself with casting whatever spells it was that Healers cast on these occasions.

"Déjà vu for you, eh?" he said nervously after a while.

"What?"

"You know, sitting here waiting for news ..."

"Except Cassius was perfectly fine afterwards," she snapped.

"Right." He fell silent again.

Lethbridge came out of the room, pinned some notes to the door, locked it behind her with her wand and walked off. Tonks got up and glanced at the notes, but as far as she could tell they were full of technical terms she didn't understand - although the handwriting was so bad it was hard to be sure.

"Tonks, you know ..." said Williamson as she sat down again.

"Don't, Ben."

"No." He paused for a moment, then added in a tortured voice, "She was the one who asked me to come, you know ..."

"Ben!" Tonks felt more or less at the end of her tether by now.

"Sorry." There was a much longer pause, then, in a carefully businesslike voice that didn't sound very convincing, he asked, "Did you let the office know?"

She took a deep breath to stop herself from yelling at him. "Yes. They said they'll tell Don to get here as soon as he gets out of the meeting."

"Right," he said after a moment or two. She waited with gritted teeth for him to say something else, but he appeared to have caught on, and left her to her own rather miserable thoughts. Five minutes later, however, they were interrupted as Donnacha O'Gregan turned up with Cornworthy in tow. They saw Tonks first and made a bee-line for her.

"Nymphadora ... what's going on?" asked O'Gregan urgently. "Has something happened to my Rhi?" She gaped at him. Oh no, no, NO. Don't tell me that prat in the office left it to me to break it to him ... "They said there'd been an accident!"

She opened her mouth and closed it again, at a loss for words. "Er, well, not an accident as such, erm ..."

Williamson turned away and hung his head. Cornworthy seemed to pick up on what was happening more quickly than his partner; his mouth fell open, then he moved forward and put his hand on O'Gregan's shoulder.

The Irishman still hadn't realised. "Tonks, WHAT HAPPENED?"

"He -" I really didn't want to be the one saying this! "- our, uh, suspect ... Clark Hallendale, used a ... a ..."

O'Gregan paled. "Some serious curse?" Williamson uttered a short, mirthless laugh.

"It was a Killing Curse, Don," she said helplessly.

O'Gregan looked at her for a moment as if he hadn't quite understood the words, then swayed on his feet and went chalk white.

"Are you sure, Tonks?" asked Cornworthy in desperation. She nodded miserably.

O'Gregan collapsed onto the floor at the foot of the wall as if his legs were no longer capable of supporting his weight. After a moment or two staring blankly into space he began to weep openly.

Cornworthy crouched down and put a hand back on his shoulder, but O'Gregan didn't even notice. The older Auror looked up. "Have they brought her in yet?" he asked quietly, with a worried glance at his friend.

"Don't think so," replied Tonks, a tear or two trickling down her own cheeks now. She turned at a gentle cough behind her to see the Healer, Lethbridge. "Oh, hello. Did you want to get into the room?"

Lethbridge shook her head, contemplating O'Gregan as if assessing how best to react to him. "No, but I thought you might want an update on how your suspect is doing. And this gentleman would be ..."

"His victim's fiancé," said Cornworthy roughly.

"Ah. I see. Well ..."

O'Gregan lifted his head; he'd clearly only that moment realised who they were talking about. "Wait a minute now, who's that in there?"

"Clark Hallendale," replied Lethbridge, watching him warily. O'Gregan stood up with a murderous look on his face, and took out his wand.

"NO, Don!" cried Cornworthy, seizing his arm. O'Gregan shook him off, and Cornworthy made another desperate grab, wrestling with him as he tried to raise his wand to the door. The Healer stepped back and looked around in alarm, clearly unsure if she was allowed to call security guards to tackle Aurors.

Williamson had his wand out by now. "Don't make us stop you, Don," he said, although his expression suggested that he'd rather help his colleague take revenge than prevent him.

"Don, please ..." said Tonks as softly as she could, although she too slipped her wand out just in case. He struggled for a few more moments and then sagged against Cornworthy, who gently led him over to a chair and set him down.

"What's going on here?"

Tonks jumped at the shocked voice from the door, and turned to see Cassius standing there. After a last check on O'Gregan, she crossed to the door and whispered, "We've just told him about Rhiannon. He - he didn't take it that well, as you might guess." She bit down on an urge to scream.

Cassius nodded, looking haggard. "Ah, I see. Well, they may be able to repair the damage to her eye, but it'll be touch and go."

"To her eye?"

"Well, that was where the curse hit her ..." he said, clearly puzzled. He trailed off at the expression on her face, then uttered a very loud, very un-Cassius-like swear word. "Wait a minute, has nobody in this damned hospital thought to give you an update on her condition?"

"Cassius, what are you talking about?" asked Cornworthy shortly.

"Didn't they tell you what happened to her?"

"I bloody saw it Cassius!" said Tonks in a brittle voice. "Your precious Angie's son tried Avada Kedavra, what do you expect happened?"

Cassius looked absolutely dumbfounded. "He used what?" he asked weakly.

"The Killing Curse, Cassius!" she yelled. This prompted renewed choking sounds from O'Gregan, and she added more quietly, "What did you expect ... Wait a minute, what are you grinning for?"

O'Gregan looked up, furious, as Cassius' grin became wider. "Donnacha, I've got some good news and some bad news for you -" O'Gregan stared in incomprehension "- well in short, Donnacha, the good news is she's alive ..."

Anything else he might have been intending to say was interrupted as O'Gregan leapt up. He joyfully cried "Thank God!" and crossed himself, then broke down in tears once again. Williamson sagged against the wall, and Tonks felt like doing the same thing. Healer Lethbridge gave them all a half-smile, then went into Clark Hallendale's room as if nothing untoward had happened.

"How?" demanded Cornworthy.

"Wait a minute," said Tonks slowly, remembering Featherstone's lecture on Killing Curses. "Clark's never been a particularly good wizard ... and I don't think he expected it to actually work ... are you saying it didn't have enough power behind it or something?"

"Yes, exactly." His grin faded. "Anyway, that's the good news."

"What's the bad news?" she asked, her heart in her mouth again.

Cassius watched O'Gregan with trepidation. "Donnacha ... the curse didn't take full effect, but it still hit her in the eye at almost point-blank range. There's a great deal of damage. They're not sure if they can save her sight ... ugh!"

O'Gregan startled him by suddenly kissing him. The others battled highly inappropriate grins. "Cassius, my lad, I do not care! They told me I had lost my love, now you tell me she's still with me? Where is she?"

"In the Spell Damage ward, they're working on her, trying to put her eye back together ... She's quite badly injured, Donnacha, they won't let you see her yet ..." The last words were shouted to his back as he raced out.

"I'd better go and wait with him," said Cornworthy thoughtfully, watching him go. "That was a hell of a shock you just gave him, and I don't think that bit about the eye has fully sunk in yet."

"Thank you, Arnold." Cornworthy nodded and followed his partner out of the room.

Williamson approached, looking extremely uncomfortable. "Cassius ... listen, I'm really sorry mate. I shouldn't have arsed around like that at the warehouse."

"No, you shouldn't, Bentley!" He relented slightly. "But I suppose you couldn't know what Clark Hallendale would do with your demonstration."

"Well, little Clarkie deserves everything he got and ... Hallendale?" His eyes widened and Tonks felt sure the surname hadn't registered with him before. "He's called Hallendale? Is that ...I mean, is he related to your ..."

"Yes," he said bitterly.

Williamson's mouth fell open. "Bugger."

"You don't say!"

"Right, I'd better ... er, go and write up my report then," he said, embarrassed. "And let Claymore know what happened. Bet he'll still be in the office. Right. Er, see you both then." He hastened away, his ponytail swinging behind him.

Cassius sank into the chair recently vacated by O'Gregan and buried his head in his hands. His voice was muffled when he eventually spoke. "You know something, Tonks? Two days ago I thought everything was going swimmingly? We'd just caught a serious criminal, I had a charming companion, I thought I could still be a perfectly good Auror. How did it come to this?"

"Dunno mate." She sat down next to him, at a loss for words again, and wishing she could go somewhere private to let off steam. Eventually, she gave a tentative nod at the ward where Clark was being treated. "Do you want me to let his mum know?"

He seemed to sag further. "Oh God, I'd forgotten no-one had told her. You'd better not. I don't think you're very popular with her at the moment. Then again," he added bitterly, "neither am I. She'd probably throw either of us out."

"I suppose we could send an owl ..."

"It's a bit impersonal, isn't it? Normally we try to send a Patroller, at least."

"Tell you what," she said, in sudden inspiration, "I'll go and find his brother and he can tell your Angie."

"She's not 'my Angie' any more," he said quietly. "And never was, in truth. But that's a good idea, Tonks. Go on then."

She got up. "Are you sure you'll be OK?" Much as she wanted to escape from the tension of the hospital before she lost it completely and said something foolish, she didn't want to leave Cassius by himself if he needed her company.

He gave her a half smile, which suggested that he understood exactly why she wanted to go. "Under some interpretations of the term 'OK', yes. I'm certainly capable of waiting here for developments without falling to pieces, Tonks. Off you go."

*****

Wednesday 4^th November 1994

The next few days were thoroughly uncomfortable for all concerned.

Montgomery Hallendale was predictably unimpressed when Tonks finally tracked him down to his home. "Well, that sounds like typical Auror brutality," he snapped as soon as Tonks had finished giving him a highly edited description of recent events. "First my father, now my brother, am I going to have any family left by the time you've finished with us?"

"Don't push your luck, Monty," she snapped back. "Just consider yourself fortunate that we didn't bring you in for obstructing an Auror in the course of their duty after you helped your precious brother get away."

She Disapparated home before he could find a good retort, and then spent ten minutes screaming at her mirror, which did as much as a mirror possibly could to offer sympathy.

The team fully expected to get chewed out by Claymore, and he certainly didn't disappoint them on that score. All three of the uninjured Aurors who had been at the warehouse were called in to his office the following morning, and they cowered at his demands to know exactly why they had failed to make a clean arrest, and exactly how they had nearly got a fellow Auror killed. Cassius attempted to take responsibility for the debacle as the senior Auror present, but Claymore was in no mood to accept excuses from the others; and when Cassius suggested diffidently that they might have been more successful if O'Gregan and Cornworthy had been available, Claymore turned purple and yelled at them so loudly that the pedestrians in the street had probably heard it over the sounds of pneumatic drills and passing buses.

"What do you think he'll do?" asked Tonks nervously as they came out.

"Not much," said Cassius. He looked groggy, like a man who had just been Enervated after taking a particularly powerful Stunner. "Egbert always yells at you after this sort of thing, but he knows as well as I do that we can't call in everybody in the office every time we want to make a simple arrest. Excuse me a moment, I think I need a cup of tea to steady myself."

"Are you all right, Ben?" asked Tonks shortly as he left. Williamson looked quite subdued, and she couldn't help feeling a touch of sympathy for him.

"Yeah. Thanks. You know what, though?" he added after a moment. "For the old sod, that was positively gentle. Either he's distracted by something, or he's got a grain of sympathy for Don and Rhi. My money's on the first option. Must be losing his touch."

They spent a morning searching through what was left of Clark's warehouse after the fires, with mixed results. There were a number of illegal and/or dubious things among the junk, both magical and Muggle, but the one that hit the jackpot was a crate with two dozen smoke-blackened bottles that proved on analysis to contain Liquor of Jacmel.

Bulletins from St Mungo's reported little change in the condition of either Clark Hallendale or Rhiannon Davies, with both kept under Sleeping Potions to recover from the shock while the Healers tried to determine the extent of any long-term problems. The former patient had been transferred to a secure room, with officers of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol keeping a watch day and night (the Healers having long refused point-blank to allow Dementors anywhere near their hospital). His broken bones had been mended and the internal injuries brought under control, but the Healers were worried about brain damage. The Auror had been placed in a room that was magically darkened for her eyes alone, but none of the other Aurors, not even O'Gregan, had been allowed in to see her for more than a few minutes at a time.

On the Tuesday, Arnold Cornworthy had been sent to update Angelica Hallendale on Clark's condition, as the case team member with the least personal connection with her. She received his news with frigid politeness and shooed him out of the house as quickly as possible. So it was a surprise to all of them early on Wednesday morning when she turned up at the visitor's entrance of the Ministry, asking for Cassius.

"She wants to see me?" he said when Eric Munch contacted him from the reception desk. "Well ... all right, I suppose. I'll come down and collect her."

Tonks wasn't sure this was a good idea; she insisted on tagging along for the interview, taking the opportunity to observe Angelica as Cassius escorted her into one of the interview rooms. She made quite a contrast from the last time Tonks had seen her. Their guest seemed worn, with dark circles under her eyes, and almost looked her age now.

Cassius sat down opposite her. "What can we do for you, Mrs Hallendale?" he asked cautiously.

She gave him a pointed look. "Not Angelica now?"

"I ... well ..."

Angelica Hallendale found a brave little smile. "Forget it, Cassius. We were friends up until a few days ago. I'm sure we can at least try to be ... polite to each other."

He nodded, seeming awkward at her presence. "What can we do for you?"

"I want to see my son," she said simply.

Tonks exchanged looks with Cassius. "I'm not sure that we can do ..." she began.

"He's in hospital, not prison," interrupted Angelica in a voice that almost succeeded in being firm, but had a slight quaver to it. "You haven't even told his legal representative what's going on, but he says there are no charges filed with the Wizengamot yet. You may have him under arrest, Miss Tonks, but there's no reason I can't see him, is there?"

"Er ..." Tonks could think of a number of very good reasons, particularly the fact that such visits weren't allowed, but on the spur of the moment she couldn't remember if the rule applied to prisoners in hospital.

Cassius shrugged after a moment. "Well ... I suppose not." Tonks flashed him a look, but he ignored her. She had a nasty suspicion that he was still feeling guilty over Hank Hallendale, let alone Clark. Even if he wasn't talking to her about it. "Ah, Ang ... Mrs Hallendale ... can I say how truly sorry I am?"

She gave him another pointed look "Yes, by letting me see my child. That's all I want to do right now."

Cassius glanced at Tonks for confirmation. She shrugged. This one's your party, mate. You decide who to invite. He waited for a moment, then nodded. "Very well. If you'll call at St Mungo's this afternoon at two o'clock, we can arrange a short visit. Do you know how to get in the front entrance?"

She waved her hand impatiently. "Yes, yes. Talk to the dummy, tell it what you're there for. It won't be the first time I've ever had a child in St Mungo's. Magical children are always getting into some kind of scrape - I should know."

"You do realise that Clark hasn't come round from the collision yet?" asked Tonks as she escorted her to the lift.

Angelica regarded her coldly. "Yes, Miss Tonks. I do realise that."

*****

She was waiting for them in St Mungo's reception area at the appointed time, snapping at the welcomewitch behind the desk to tell her that she knew exactly what she was there for, Muggle or not. They hastily retrieved her and went up to the secure ward in awkward silence. Cassius stopped at the door to check with the Patrol wizard on guard. "Has anyone been in?"

The man shook his head. "Only medical staff. A bloke called Harris who said he was his legal adviser turned up yesterday and wanted to see him, though. We made him wait while we checked him out, but apparently he's well-known, turns up quite often at Veritaserum interrogations and the like."

"We've met him," said Tonks.

"We let him look through the window, but told him he'd have to get your permission before he could go in. We didn't tell him anything else. What do we say if he turns up again?"

"Tell him there's no chance. You made sure he couldn't do anything?"

"Held on to his wand for him while he looked. He wasn't happy about it, but even he could see that chummy didn't have much use for him while he was like that." He nodded towards the still comatose Clark Hallendale in the room behind him.

"Very well. Good work."

Angelica had moved over to the door to look at her son through the small window. She caught her breath, and Tonks, looking over her shoulder, could understand why - he was clearly in a bad way, still very pale and covered in bruising. "Can I go in?"

Cassius nodded. "Yes, Mrs Hallendale. But please leave your bag at the door."

"What? Oh yes." She handed it to him without a second thought, her gaze never once leaving her son. Tonks and Cassius hung back in the doorway, feeling very uncomfortable, as she approached his bed slowly and sat down by his side. She began talking to him in a quiet, soothing manner.

"Do you think she knows he can't hear her?" asked Tonks in an undertone, glancing at the medical report on the door. She was getting the hang of interpreting Lethbridge's writing by now. "He's still out cold most of the time, you know, that's not just the Sleeping Potions."

"I don't think she really cares," replied Cassius in kind. "I'm sure I wouldn't if it were one of my children."

Tonks glanced at Angelica and her feeling of discomfort increased. She was smoothing her son's hair back, tracing her finger down his face, adjusting his sheets, all the while talking to him with forced brightness, as if he were still an innocent five-year-old who'd fallen off his first toy broom. Tonks glanced around the room in an attempt not to watch, but it didn't help much. Some sort of medical poster had been fixed to the wall above his bed, and the Healer it portrayed was looking on and shaking his head sadly as if to say that he didn't think the patient had long for this world.

"How much time are you giving her?" she muttered.

"A little while longer. Give her a chance," he replied, his face impassive, as Angelica continued to fuss over Clark.

"Doesn't seem to care what he's done, does she?"

There was a trace of pain on Cassius' face. "You were the one who said you imagined she could forgive him anything, up to and including murder. I don't doubt you were right. People do forgive their children for their crimes. One of these days you may have your own and find that out."

"Cassius!"

He reddened slightly. "Sorry," he mumbled. "That was uncalled for. I shouldn't take it out on you."

"Never mind." It wasn't the right time to argue the point. She nodded at Angelica. "Hadn't we better ..."

"I suppose so." He raised his voice. "Mrs Hallendale? We really should go now."

She looked up, distracted, then nodded. Her voice was a little louder as she turned back to her son, and this time Tonks could just about make out the actual words spoken over the tearful tone. "Clark, I don't know if you can hear me right now, but just want you to know that whatever happens, I love you and I did my best for you, I'll always love you and do my best for you. I love you, I ..." Her voice trailed off, and with an angry glance at the Aurors she leant in to put a tender hand on his brow and murmur into his ear.

Clark shifted slightly on his pillow, but otherwise gave no indication that he'd heard anything she'd said since she'd been there, and at that point Angelica broke down completely, in deep, agonised, achingly regretful sobbing that seemed to be tearing her heart out. She got up blindly and stumbled towards the door; Cassius offered her his hand but she shrugged it off - and then suddenly clung to his arm for a moment in desperation.

"Thank you Mr ... Cassius," she muttered. "Thank you for that ... well, just thank you, anyway."

He didn't say anything in reply, merely nodding with a tight expression on his face.

"I'll be all right now," she told him, with a tremulous smile, and he dropped her hand. "Nice poppy," she added in her falsely bright voice, although Tonks had no idea what she meant. "Good to see a wizard who ... well anyway. Goodbye."

She walked away slowly with her back erect and head held high, with Cassius watching in silence as she got into the lift and disappeared. Tonks could see the extreme tension in his bunched shoulders; it felt like one of the saddest things she had seen for a long time. Remembering what had worked once before, she moved over and put her arms around him in a tight hug. His shoulders tensed even further for a moment, but then he relaxed a little and seemed to sag.

"Thank you," he said thickly, turning and returning the hug. "And thank you for still making an effort to support me, despite the way I've been acting for the past few days. By rights you should have bawled me out like Egbert Claymore by now."

"Hey, no problem," she said, smiling up at him. "I don't give up on people I care about that easily, you know. Friends still?" she added, holding out a hand half-jokingly.

He smiled weakly, then took her hand and shook it. "Friends."

*****

Friday 6^th November 1994

Tonks was quite glad when the rest of the week's work turned out to be simple, uneventful routine. Clark Hallendale regained consciousness on the Thursday evening, very woozy after all the Sleeping Potions. Nevertheless, when the Patrol witch on duty took a statement from him he denied all knowledge of Sylvester Ballantyne and of any criminal activities connected with the Liquor of Jacmel, a development that all members of the case team received with a complete lack of surprise.

The good news was that the Healers saw no reason why he couldn't cope with Veritaserum, as the potion didn't have any major physical effects on the person taking it. Cassius immediately made out an application for a warrant and asked Bentley Williamson to file it with the Wizengamot Administration Services.

"Why him?" asked O'Gregan, who had been extremely cool towards his ponytailed colleague ever since the events in the warehouse.

"I thought his - ah, friend Venusia who works there might be able to speed things up for us," said Cassius with equanimity. "Always useful, that sort of thing."

"Do you think they'll grant it just like that, though?" asked Tonks, snapping her fingers. "They've been a lot fussier recently, after all. Even your nephew's been complaining about it, from what I hear."

"Oh, I think so." His expression hardened. "Some members of the Wizengamot may be so old and feeble they make even me look like a stripling, but generally they don't approve of people who use Unforgivable Curses any more than we do. Especially when they use them on Aurors. We usually get a certain ... consideration in those cases."

Tonks nodded. Cassius had seemed a lot more like his old self since Wednesday, which pleased her, even if she did strongly suspect that he was putting on a brave face most of the time after the shocks and embarrassments of the previous week.

Cornworthy spent some hours with Gogol's portrait checking on records from various Commonwealth Ministries, and showed Tonks a statement taken from the suspected Jacmel victim who had emigrated to New Zealand. She had identified a photograph of Sylvester Ballantyne as a man she remembered acting suspiciously shortly before her memory became a blank, which considerably reduced the Aurors' sympathy for the murder victim.

Wells the courier had not returned from his 'working holiday' in the Dominican Republic, and was considered to have done a runner after being tipped off that there was trouble waiting for him back home. According to the Caribbean Magical Federation records, he had taken the international Floo to the United States, vanished into the New York magical underworld, and was currently on the 'fugitive from justice' list of the US Magical Investigation Bureau. His shop in Knockturn Alley remained closed and looked likely to remain so for the foreseeable future..

By three o'clock on Friday afternoon, most of the paperwork had been completed, and Tonks and O'Gregan were the only members of their team left in the office. She couldn't help noticing how tired he looked, and tried to keep the conversation flowing to stop him brooding over Rhiannon.

Fortunately he was playing along as best he could. "You think the potion will get anything useful out of him, Tonks?"

"Should do. I mean, he's not in any position to fight back, is he? And in a case like this where all sorts of stuff could rest on who he sold Jacmel to, it could be important. Rufus Scrimgeour is backing it as well, so it should be on Cassius' desk within a few days ..."

Tonks trailed off as she realised that O'Gregan wasn't paying the slightest attention to what she was saying any more. Instead, he was staring at the doorway with a rapt expression, and when she followed his gaze she was astonished to see Rhiannon standing there. She was pale, and one eye was covered with heavy bandaging, underneath which some sort of medicinal orange goo had obviously been applied, but even so she wore a tentative smile.

"They said I could leave St Mungo's if I wanted to. Anything interesting happening round here?"

"My love!" cried O'Gregan, leaping up and tenderly leading her over to the desk, She rolled the single eye Tonks could see, but nonetheless let him settle her into his chair as he Conjured another one next to it for himself. They looked at each other for a long moment, and then wrapped themselves in a bone-crushing hug.

Tonks bit her lip and turned back to her reports for a moment to give them what little privacy she could, trying not to grin at what sounded to her expert ear like a very deep kiss. She looked up again when she heard an apologetic cough nearby. It proved to have been made by Bentley Williamson. "Er, Rhiannon ..."

She broke apart from O'Gregan for a moment, and they both looked askance at him. "What?"

Tonks had never seen him look so awkward; he didn't even make a joke about the scene he'd just interrupted. "Look, I ... oh sod it. I'm really sorry? I didn't know that little bit of filth would get ideas. I felt sick when I thought that you'd been ... well, you know, and then I was so bloody relieved to hear you were OK - er, not that I'm not sorry about your eye," he added hastily, "I am, and, erm, how is it? How are you?"

She glared at him for a moment or two, then relented. Her expression turned serious when she glanced at O'Gregan. "Not too bad, considering. Weak, still feeling rather sick off and on, and ... the eye took quite a battering."

"How bad?" asked her boyfriend sombrely.

"It looks awful underneath this patch and - oh Donnie, the Healers don't know if I'll ever get the sight back. Even the other eye's still a bit blurry. They said it's still a wound from a very Dark curse, even if it didn't work properly, and it could take months before they can tell if it's going to get any better ..."

"Can I see?" he interrupted.

"I suppose." she said nervously. "I rather you didn't, you know. It really looks terrible."

He shook his head. "Never mind that, now. Show me."

"I can't keep the patch off for long, I'm not really supposed to expose it to bright lights." She peeled off the eyepatch and everyone present winced at the bruising and jagged scarring that was clearly visible even through the thick layer of orange gunk. She squinted at the overhead lights and hastily slapped the patch over her eye again. She managed a brave smile. "I'm afraid you're going to have to put up with me wandering around looking like this for a long time, maybe ... well, maybe even permanently."

O'Gregan put a finger under her chin and tilted her head towards him. "If you are thinking that I care one whit about that, my love," he said quietly, "then let me tell you that I do not and never will. When you walked in that door, back on your feet again, it was the most beautiful sight I have ever seen in my life, now, whatever you have done to your eyes. I would not even care if they had to fit you with a special eye like old Moody's got." He stopped to think for a moment, then added, "Well, maybe not quite the same as his. I would not be wanting you to be able to see everything I'm doing, now."

Rhiannon laughed; she didn't say anything, but reached out her hand and squeezed his extremely tightly. Tonks and Williamson exchanged grins.

"Pity about your missus, Don," said Williamson heartily, obviously trying to cover for his embarrassment. "Can't you get rid of her?"

O'Gregan scowled. "If you imagine that I have not tried everything I can think of ... I suppose I could enter her for that Swedish broom race that flies through the dragon sanctuary. You never know, I might get lucky. Then again, the dragons might just wave her through, now. Professional courtesy." Rhiannon grinned at him with affection.

"Maybe that Bletchley bloke will propose to her and take her off your hands, Don?" suggested Tonks.

"No such luck," he said gloomily. "I ran into her at the Halloween Ball on the way back from the gents, and she made quite sure to point out to me, so sweetly, that she had no intention of doing anything unless he gets a cushy Ministry number in International Co-operation he's been angling for. Precious little Norah isn't going to tie herself down to a stick-in-the-mud like Bletchley unless there's prestige as well as money guaranteed."

Williamson raised his eyebrows. "Wait a minute ... did you say Bletchley? Not Francis Bletchley, by any chance?" At nods from the others, he grinned broadly. "Well, well, well. I may be able to do you a good turn after all, Don. I was chatting to Ellie Finchley earlier - you might want to have a word with her."

The others looked at each other blankly. "What for?" he asked.

"Because she finally caught that bloke Horrigan who was nicking the old magic pianos ..."

"Harpsichords!" said Tonks gleefully, pleased to finally get it right.

"... whatever. Anyway, guess which music buff turned out to be the one who placed the order with him in the first place?"

"Not Mr Francis Bletchley, by any chance?" said Rhiannon, with dawning understanding.

"Ten points to you, Miss Davies!"

"Blimey, I thought that Bletchley bloke looked a bit worried at the Halloween Ball!" cried Tonks. "He must have known Ellie was on his case!"

"Oh, he was very careful to keep his nose clean. He didn't actually tell them to steal the thing in as many words, just let it be known he wanted one. Of course, he'll have to give it back and say how terribly shocked he is that it was stolen - yeah, right - but that wouldn't necessarily have to make the papers. But a little bird tells me - my Venusia actually - that he's likely to get that job he wants. Very prestigious. He must have made good connections at those little musical evenings of his. So suppose you were to point out to your Norah that a little word from you to a Daily Prophet reporter might get him enough bad publicity to scupper this, and therefore her chances of playing at the high table too ..."

O'Gregan exchanged glances with his lady love. "You know, my darling, that could work ..."

"Won't all this come out at Horrigan's trial, though?" asked Tonks.

Williamson shook his head pityingly. "Maybe, maybe not, but we don't necessarily have to set the trial date until after they decide whether he gets the job, do we?"

"And the same thing with Carrack's trial!" cried Rhiannon, catching on with enthusiasm. "You know, we might have to make that conversation Tonks heard in the salon part of the evidence. All of it, including the bits where Norah pretty much says she's only interested in him for his money!"

O'Gregan grinned. "It's underhand. It's blackmail. It's a Bludger straight to the guts. I like it!"

"Do we want a crook in a top Ministry job though?" asked Tonks, looking around uncertainly.

Everyone shrugged, and Williamson snorted loudly. "One more won't make any difference. At least we'll have something embarrassing on him if we need a little favour any time."

O'Gregan kissed Rhiannon and leapt to his feet. "Excuse me, ladies and gentleman. I need to have a word with a colleague. Ben, old son, it looks like you may be some good after all, now." He dashed off, with a very relieved-looking Williamson following at a more sedate pace.

Tonks and Rhiannon grinned at each other; it suddenly struck her forcefully that it was the first time she'd seen her friend since the curse had hit. The thought made her wince. "So how are you really, Rhi? I thought ... well, I thought you were dead."

Rhiannon grimaced. "So did I when I heard him say that curse. At least, in the split second I had to try to get out the way before it hit me." Tonks could see the strain on her face as she remembered. "The Healers told me that the Dark spell trauma very nearly did me in anyway. It's not the first time I've been at risk of getting myself killed, but - well, it's the closest yet."

"How are you handling it?" she asked carefully.

That got a twisted attempt at a grin. "Badly. It's a ... bit of a shock when this sort of thing happens to you, however much you think you can cope with it."

"And your eye?"

"Could have been worse, I suppose, but -" she looked Tonks in the eye "- no, not much worse, really, and no, it's not easy to accept. Buggers up your self-image, doesn't it?"

"You'll be OK, Rhi. You're tough," she said, hoping very much that she was right.

Her friend's laugh was brittle. "None of us are as tough as we look. I hear even old Moody was as low as my Gringotts balance for a while after he lost his eye. At least I've got Donnie to remind me life's got some good things in it too." She shook herself, making an obvious effort to snap out of it. "Yeah, I'll be all right once I'm back into the swing of things. They say you need to climb straight back onto the broom, don't they? And at least now you've caught him you won't need me any more, so I can get back to my other case."

"Any new clues?" asked Tonks, grabbing the opportunity to get her talking about something else.

"None at all. No hints, no leaks, no idea where they're going to strike next, not even a good suspect, except it's obviously someone with a serious Dark Arts background." She chuckled. "Maybe I should add you to the list."

Tonks grinned. "Me? Yeah, that's right. I come from a family of known Dark Wizards, after all." She dropped her voice to sound as dramatic as possible. "And I have a Rare and Dangerous Power I use for Concealment and Disguise. I really only became an Auror because it was the perfect cover. And -" she glanced at her desk "- look! I keep really Dark Dark Arts books on my desk!"

Rhiannon laughed out loud at that. "You mean you still haven't you handed in that Muggle-hunting book yet and got your money back?"

"Hey, I've been busy!" She rummaged under the piles of parchment at the back of he desk and fished out the book. "Look, evidence! What more do you want, eh? Do I get to make a dramatic last speech before you Portkey me off to Azkaban?"

"No way. I get so bored listening to those things." She picked up the book. "What's in this, anyway? Hunting Muggles For Pleasure and Profit - hmm, charming title. Privately published in 1684 - not surprised, even back then this had to have been extreme." She began to flick through the pages. "Ways to track your target. Curses to slow, and curses to kill. How to conceal the hunt so the local population don't get in the way. Charming little psycho, wasn't he? ... What's the 'profit' bit about? Ugh. The late seventeenth-century going rate for various human body parts as ingredients for Dark Potions ... Oh look, there's even a section on 'The Moral and Philosophical Basis For Muggle-Hunting'. Well that's all right then. I'm sure he makes a very cogent argument for ..."

Tonks looked at her in surprise as she trailed off. "Rhi? Something even nastier?"

Rhiannon was staring at the book as if she couldn't believe her good eye. "Oh Merlin. Do you know what I've just found?"

"What?" asked Tonks, alarmed.

He colleague read from the book in a tone of utter shock. "Listen to this. 'It is foolish to pretend that the Muggle race is anything but a poor imitation of our own, and no good can come of those who seek to blend the two to create monstrous and unnatural hybrids. In the dark days of the last few decades, when the weaklings among our number have counselled withdrawal and demanded of us craven concealment, we have allowed ourselves to forget the innate superiority of the wizarding race to that of the corrupt and degenerate Muggle. It behoves all of us to consider the worthy example of the noble Venetian Francisco Fiordano, and periodically remind the Muggles of this fact by demonstrating to them, and to the traitors in our midst, that we who are superior may do as we will and set our mark upon them.'" She looked up, her voice shaking. "That's it, Tonks. That's what that sick bastard I'm after is doing!"

Tonks gaped at her. "Rhi, be serious. The idea's the same, all right, but ..."

"No, no, not just the idea," she said, shaking her head vigorously and wincing as it pulled on her eye. "Look!" She opened the book and pointed an illustration labelled 'The Mark of Fiordano'. It looked like a teardrop inside a circle with lines around it.

"Wait a minute," Tonks said slowly, as this description rang a very faint bell. "Isn't that ..."

"The mark that nutter brands his victims with? Yes! It's not a teardrop after all." She read from the book again. "'The deep secrets of Fiordano's noble work were known only to those of like mind, as is only right and proper, but those whom he had hunted could always be identified by his mark, which we illustrate and explain here for the benefit of those who lack a grounding in the Venetian tongue. It signifies a drop of true wizarding blood, surrounded by a perfect circle representing purity, the whole guarded by wands. It inspired terror and mystery among those on whom his people worked their will ...' I bloody bet it did!"

"You think that this book was where he got the idea from?" Tonks suddenly felt nauseous. "And I've had it in my desk all these months?"

"Right," said Rhiannon grimly. "I've never heard of a nutter called Fiordano, and neither had any of the people I asked what the mark might be, which I reckon means that he can't be that well known in this country. I'm going to see if Magical Analysis can get any traces off this, and then I'm going to talk to our Gogol and see how many other copies of this book are reported to be still knocking about. And if, as I suspect, the answer is 'not many', I'm going to go round to that Miss Prissy Orevel and teach her something about what real Auror harassment is like."

"Rhi ..." said Tonks in alarm.

"See you later, Tonks. Locomotor book." She hobbled out, floating the book with her wand. Tonks stared after her. She was pleased that Rhiannon was back on the job, but couldn't help worrying what the comeback might be.

Oh well. One more to add to the list. She sighed and went back to her paperwork.

*****

Saturday 7^th November 1994

The weekend was blissfully free of Dark Wizard activity and spent largely with Chesney, who quickly caught on to two simple facts: one, she'd had a lousy week; two, she really didn't want to discuss it in detail. Once or twice she caught him watching her curiously as her mind wandered back to Rhiannon, Cassius, or the Hallendales, and each time she grinned at him and quickly changed the subject.

"Hey, my mum was asking about you," she said on one occasion, remembering that she had once asked when she would meet her daughter's new 'young man'. "She wanted to know if I was going to introduce you."

"Oh yes?" Chesney seemed to be displaying more than the usual level of uneasiness at meeting a girlfriend's parents, and Tonks hid a smile as she remembered the way she'd described her mother to him at the Ball.

Well, if he's going to make it easy for me, no reason not to tease him a bit further, eh? "Yeah. My dad would like to meet you too, I bet! How does Friday evening sound?"

The immediate expression on his face suggested that it sounded like an invitation to act as a practice subject while she refined her technique with the Cruciatus Curse, but then he managed a wry grin. "I'm not going to be able to get out of this, am I?"

"Not really, no," she said brightly.

"That's Friday the thirteenth, isn't it?" He grimaced, as if the date felt somehow appropriate. "Well ... go on then."

"That's the spirit!" She kissed him and made a mental note that now she would have to actually warn her parents to expect a Friday night guest.

*****

Monday 9^th November 1994

When she arrived at the office on Monday morning, she was met with the encouraging news that the Veritaserum warrant for Clark Hallendale had been approved. "I don't want you to think that we usually get them this quickly, Tonks, or indeed at all," admonished Cassius when she cheered. "We've been lucky in our cases - we've had villains caught red-handed committing serious crimes. Don't always expect it."

"I won't," she promised. "When are we doing it?"

"Noon. First I need to check something with our friend Lockhard from Magical Analysis, and make a few arrangements."

Midday saw them waiting outside Clark Hallendale's secure room at St Mungo's for his legal adviser, and that reminded Tonks of something his mother had said when they'd been there last. "What did Angelica mean by your 'poppy', Cassius? Is it that paper flower thing you've been wearing for the last few days?"

He looked surprised. "Yes. It's a ... um, war charity symbol, to show you've given money. Goes back to the Muggle 'Great War'. I lost friends in that war so I always like to contribute."

"I thought wizards were forbidden to fight in Muggle wars by the Statute of Secrecy?" she said, puzzled.

He raised his eyebrows. "Did I say they were wizards?"

"Ah," she said, embarrassed. "Then again, they could have been. Grindelwald didn't let the Statute stop him getting involved, did he?"

"Well, no. Except this was the war before the one Grindelwald meddled in, back when he was just an aspiring Dark Wizard and not paying much attention to Muggle politics. It wasn't that long after I'd joined the Department, actually."

That left Tonks even more embarrassed. "But that must have been ... blimey, about eighty years ago!" She lowered her voice. "I sometimes forget ..."

"... just how old I am? I know. Too old for this line of work, perhaps."

"I didn't mean that!"

Cassius just smiled, but didn't say anything. Fortunately, Harris turned up shortly afterwards to spare her blushes. He seemed surprisingly unconcerned at what his client might say, although Clark himself watched Healer Lethbridge take the Veritaserum from the bottle with ill-concealed fear. His eyes soon glazed over when she placed three drops on his tongue, however.

"Very well, let's start at the beginning," said Cassius. His voice sounded calm and professional, but there was a look on his face that suggested distaste for what he was about to do. "Clark, we'd like you to tell us how you first learned of Liquor of Jacmel."

Clark nodded, his face now tranquil from the effects of the Veritaserum. "First I heard of it was when your Patrol woman started asking about it earlier. What is it, some kind of potion?"

Cassius and Tonks exchanged startled looks, and he muttered, "Surely it can't be that he didn't even know the name of what he was selling?" In a louder voice, he asked, "Have you ever sold anyone a potion that was supposed to enable them to control someone else's mind?"

"Me? No."

"Have you offered to sell such a potion?"

"No."

"Not even a legal love potion?"

"Not even that. I've never sold anything like that."

"That's daft!" hissed Tonks. "He sold Beatrice one! He tried to sell me one!"

Cassius looked suspicious, but shook his head at Tonks and tried a different tack. "When did you first meet the man known as Sylvester Ballantyne?"

"Sylvester Ballantyne?" His brow furrowed. "I'm not sure ... I remember he was a sort of friend of my dad's?"

Cassius seemed slightly mollified by that. "When was the last time you saw him alive?"

Clark seemed puzzled. "Sylvester's dead? I didn't know that. I saw him in the Transfigured Toad one night. He was getting into a row with somebody." He had a pained expression, as if trying to recall something that was just beyond the edge of his memory. "Can't remember who, sorry."

"You didn't know Sylvester Ballantyne was dead?" said Tonks. "He was murdered months ago!"

"Bugger. I didn't know. Poor bloke."

"And did you plan with him to kidnap the person you were meeting on the night you remember last seeing him in the Transfigured Toad? Or to administer spiked Firewhisky to that person?" asked Cassius.

"No I didn't, not me."

Cassius sat back in his chair and contemplated Clark. "Have you ever gone by the nickname of 'The Butler'?" he asked eventually.

He snickered. "I used to call myself that sometimes, yeah."

"Have you ever used it as an alias for criminal activity?"

"Nah. I've never done any criminal activity that I can remember - except for what happened when you tried to arrest me."

Tonks sat back. The interview was not turning out quite how she'd expected. Under the circumstances she was more than happy to leave the questioning to the experienced Auror. She glanced up at a portrait hanging above the bed and frowned; it looked vaguely familiar, and she was sure there had only been a poster there before.

"Then why did you run away when we did that?"

"Because I heard you say you wanted to arrest me. I must have got scared, I guess. I'm sorry about that. Is that woman OK? I never meant that curse to actually do anything, you know, it was just supposed to frighten her like your bloke frightened me and give me a chance to get out. I nearly wet myself when it worked."

Cassius ignored the question. "Where did you obtain the items in that warehouse?"

"All over the place. When they were a good price, I suppose. The fireworks came ..."

"Never mind those for the moment. Where did you obtain the illegal items? In particular, where did you obtain the two dozen bottles of Liquor of Jacmel stored in a crate marked 'Roland Rollfinger's Refreshing Restorative'?"

"I told you, I don't know anything about that. I can't remember a crate like that."

Cassius got up and motioned for Tonks and the Healer to follow him outside, leaving the Patrol guard to watch over Clark. As soon as they were out of earshot of Harris he said shortly, "Healer Lethbridge. Why didn't you tell me that his memory had been affected?"

"I didn't know it had!" she protested. "Why do you say so?"

"Because he's just denied things we know he should know, while under the influence of Veritaserum," he said shortly.

She raised an eyebrow, obviously trying not to look sceptical, and failing. "Are you sure?"

"Definite," said Tonks, nodding vigorously.

"Weeeelll ... we tested his reactions when he first woke, and he seemed normal. But it is possible sometimes, you know. Traumatic amnesia can blank out events leading up to an accident."

Tonks spluttered. "But he remembers that. He just can't remember a bunch of other stuff from months ago!"

"That is unusual ..." said Lethbridge with a worried look. "I mean, under normal circumstances, I'd think - well ..."

"Yes, just say it," snapped Cassius. "The indications are rather clear, aren't they?"

"Well, I'd consider Obliviation, of course. But here that just isn't possible. He's been guarded by your people day and night."

"Not well enough, it seems," said Cassius grimly. "I've encountered that pattern of answers before. It's quite complete and it's been done fairly well, but they've missed things. Like that 'Butler' nickname. He only ever seems to have used that as a criminal alias."

Tonks reeled. "Couldn't it have been done before he got in here? Maybe he went to one of his crooked Knockturn Alley friends before he went into hiding?"

"I don't think so. Not given the way he fought us. But it's certainly thrown arsenic into the potion." He turned to Lethbridge. "Where's the list of his visitors?"

"On the door." As Cassius inspected it, she added, "But the only person - other than our medical staff and your guards - that we've let anywhere near was his legal representative."

Cassius looked into the room, where the man in question looked back at him with just a suggestion of a smirk on his face. "Harris?"

"Yes, but he just stood by the door when your man showed him that his client was unconscious!" spluttered the Healer. "I think his brother arranged for him to be here ..."

"Very well." His jaw clenched. "We'll go back in there and ask him everything we can, but I think the stable door's open and the Hippogriff has flown. We're going to struggle to get evidence on anything but the contraband and resisting arrest, and we may have lost our chance of tying him to the murder of Sylvester Ballantyne. What a mess."

"But ... what would be the point?" cried Tonks. "He used an Unforgivable Curse on Rhiannon! And Jacmel on me! They both carry life sentences anyway!"

"They're liable to life sentences," he told her tetchily. "You didn't actually drink the Jacmel, so I'm sure Harris will argue that the use penalty doesn't apply, just the possession penalty, which is only twelve months. And the bottle he supposedly sold you was a dummy, so if we want to get him on sale we have to convince the court to believe the testimony of Barry Lewis. His Killing Curse wasn't successful and it seems he didn't mean it, and in circumstances like that, the court is often lenient." He stopped to think for a moment and then said more calmly, "Then again, if they add up the sentences for all the charges we'll lay against him it will probably still come to ten or twenty years, so as a matter of practicality he's still in a very bad situation."

"Well then ..."

"But it ruins our chances of finding out if he has associates, who else he might have sold it to, how he brought the stuff in. If I find out who did this, they are in real trouble. Come on."

Tonks listened with an increasingly sinking feeling as the interrogation proceeded. Cassius was asking everything he could think of, but he wasn't getting many useful answers. Eventually he conceded defeat as the Veritaserum worn off, and Healer Lethbridge came back to administer another Sleeping Potion. Harris thanked the Aurors and left whistling a jaunty tune; Tonks had such a strong urge to grab her wand and jinx him that she actually felt her hand twitch.

The guard from the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol had an uncomfortable few minutes as an irate Cassius grilled him about visitors, over his vehement denials that he had let any unauthorised personnel into the room. Tonks groaned inwardly at the thought of having to check and recheck for impostors who might have sneaked past in disguise. Cassius eventually gave up in disgust and called in to the Auror office, ordering O'Gregan and Cornworthy to find fresh people to act as guards, and then locate the other Patrol people on the current rota and grill them too.

He finally broke the contact and turned to Tonks, nodding to the door of Clark's room. "Come on. Our last chance. Let's see if we can get one thing out of this that might be of use."

Tonks, baffled, followed him as he marched up to the bed and spoke to the portrait hanging above it. "Mr Ross - do you have anything to tell us?"

She blinked, and suddenly realised why it looked familiar, he was the ex-Falcons player whose portrait they'd found in Ballantyne's house. He was nodding excitedly. "Yes indeed. That is most certainly the man who was there on the fateful day."

Cassius' smile showed great relief. "Excellent! You're positive about that?"

Ross shuddered in his frame. "That voice has been haunting me ever since Sylvester was murdered, Mr Scrimgeour. I would know it anywhere."

"Wait a minute," said Tonks. "He wasn't here before. You had his picture brought in?"

He nodded. "Yes, It seemed the easiest way. Thank you Mr Ross, that's one of the few helpful things anyone's said to me all day."

"At your service, sir."

"Can portraits testify in front of the court then?" asked Tonks, astonished. "I thought the Wizengamot didn't allow it?"

"Well technically, it's up to them whether they allow it or not - it depends on the circumstances and the possibilities of tampering," he said with a shrug. "Mr Ross' portrait has been in Lockhard's hands ever since the discovery of the body - I believe he's an art enthusiast, and rather fancied having an original Cierascurro in his office - so we should be all right if it comes to a trial." He winked at Ross. "Don't worry, old chap. I'll get you into court somehow even if I have to introduce you as an exhibit!"

They quietly ignored the affronted look on Ross' face and walked out.

*****

By eight-thirty that evening, Tonks was one of the few Aurors left in the building, having volunteered to write up the report on the interrogation as a favour to Cassius (she was worried about the possible effects on his blood pressure if he had to do the job himself). So the ringing of her mirror phone at eight-thirty-two was a welcome distraction.

"Tonks?" To her surprise, it was Kingsley Shacklebolt on the other end.

"Kingsley? What's up?" She jammed the phone between her ear and her shoulder so she could continue to work on the report while talking to him.

"Where are you? Are you free to talk?"

Tonks, guessing that he meant free to talk about Sirius Black, looked around to make sure. "Yes. I'm in the office, but it's practically empty at the moment. Where are you?"

"Never mind. In private. I've been trying to get in touch with you for a day or two, but you've been busy. You did say you were willing to follow what I asked of you, yes?"

Tonks felt a surge of excitement, mixed with a twinge of guilt. She'd almost forgotten about her cousin's case in the rush of recent events. "Yes! What do you want me to do?"

"For a start, don't get too excited. And if anyone asks what you're doing, break the connection immediately and make up some rubbish to tell them. Basically, this could be a complete waste of effort or it could get us somewhere, I'm not sure which. We'll just have to try it and see."

"Go on then," she said, adding a scribbled note to the parchment on the desk to catalogue yet another of Clark Hallendale's unhelpful answers.

"If I can, I want to find out more about what Albus Dumbledore really knows about our ... ah, subject of interest. And I don't want to ask him point blank because I'm not sure he'd tell me."

"So where do I come in?"

"You come in as a relative who's seen the basic case reports and isn't quite convinced by them, maybe has looked into the files a bit and picked up some snippets of information the general public don't have. I want you to contact him and ask if he can tell you his story, as a personal favour to an old student. Don't, whatever you do, let him know you know all the stuff I've told you, or even that you're in contact with me. And if he asks you up to the school for a private interview, for heaven's sake don't let him use that Legilimency thing on you. Play on your family connections to Sirius Black, it might give you an 'in' with him. Got that?"

"Got it. Sounds nice and simple anyway." She nodded as she said it, and the phone slipped from under her chin and dropped to the floor. She could see Kingsley grinning in the mirror as she bent down to pick it up. Then as she did so, she suddenly froze, finally saying, "Oh bugger."

"Tonks? Is someone coming?" he said urgently. "Break the ..."

"No, no, there no-one's coming," she said impatiently. "Just a brainwave. About the work I'm supposed to be doing."

"Oh yes?"

"Yes. I have a feeling we've made another balls-up."

His image winced. "That's not going to impress Egbert."

"Don't remind me. See you later, Kingsley." She broke the connection, then sat back and thought hard for a good ten or fifteen minutes. Then, with sudden decision, she jumped up and went over to the WEB Access.

"Mr Gogol?" she called.

Gogol bustled into the frame. "How can I help you?"

"Am I right in thinking that we still have the World Cup records? And that we can now get access to foreign records through you? Arnold Cornworthy was doing it the other day."

He nodded, looking pleased. "That's right. In fact, given a little time I can access the records of most magical governments and some Muggle ones for you, it's a very impor ..."

She held up a hand to cut him off before he got too far into his stride. "Good. We'll get back to the World Cup stuff later, but first I've got something I want you to look up in the Caribbean Registry. You're going to be busy ..."

--------------------------------------------------

Author's Notes:

Sorry about playing on people's emotions a bit last time around ... Well no, I'm not actually. But even though I preferred to avoid giving Tonks the experience of seeing a friend killed here (given how cut up she was about Sirius).I didn't want her colleague to walk away unscathed this time.

You may have noted that the eyepatch actually 'canonises' Rhiannon as the witch Harry saw talking to Kingsley when he passed through the Auror Office with Arthur.

Cassius was wearing a Remembrance Day Poppy - another real tradition that takes place in November.