The Path of Gold
(From "The Adventures of Mad-Eye Moody")
Chapter One – An Unfair Advantage
The last days of September in 1992 had set the stage for a dramatic change of the seasons in London. The dying environment of summer had been pounced upon by an extremely predatory storm of autumn. All day, the wind had shrieked and the rain had battered against the walls, roofs, and windows of the cluster of buildings lining Charing Cross.
One of these buildings, huddling innocently between its neighbors to weather nature's fury, was a non-descript little structure that neither caught the eye nor made imprint on the mind. This was due to its internal nature more than its outward appearance, for this was the Leaky Cauldron, beloved and protected watering hole of the British wizarding culture.
Inside the Leaky Cauldron, Nymphadora Tonks was enjoying a choice table near the roaring fireplace and some hot toddy made with butterbeer; a specialty of Tom, the bald, wizened innkeeper. Tonks took another sip and stretched her arms to their fullest extent, luxuriating in the delicious warmth. Although there was a substantial clientele in the Cauldron today, Tonks didn't feel crowded in the least.
"One thing's for sure" she thought, mentally chuckling, "when you travel in wizarding circles with Mad-Eye Moody, you usually get a respectful amount of space."
Tonks glanced across the table at her teacher and partner. Moody appeared to be totally immersed in the large flagon in front of him. In true Moody fashion, he'd paid for a large stout, dumped the contents in the fireplace, poured a bit from his hip flask, and expanded it with his wand.
"Ah, I'm going to enjoy this four day pass immensely, Mad-Eye" Tonks waxed smugly. "No reports to write, no hooligans firing spells at my arse . . . and no dealing with Scrimgeour." She paused significantly in her monologue, eying her partner over the rim of her cup.
The verbal debriefing of their latest escapade with the Head of the Auror office had not gone well at all. Rufus had attempted to dress down Moody for failure to follow prescribed Ministry protocol, so Moody, who had as much patience with in-house rules as a bear has with a sore tooth, had elaborated on Scrimgeour's imminent danger of experiencing his own wand as a suppository. Only the timely (and anticipated) intervention of Amelia Bones, Head of Magical Law Enforcement, had kept the episode from escalating past the wall-rattling shouting-match stage.
Moody merely grunted in response and took another pull on his mug. "Any big plans this break, Dora?" he rumbled politely.
"None worth mentioning" Tonks grinned. "There may be a concert or two that merit attending. I need to check the Prophet." She sighed significantly. "I'll probably just wind up lounging about the house, while Mum yells at me to pick up my room."
Moody nodded knowingly, but, offered no comment. His attention was focused on the blast of wind that announced the opening of the front door, admitting a group of five new customers, all swathed from head to foot in hooded, gray cloaks.
Three of the newcomers continued straight to Tom tending the bar while two veered directly at the Aurors' table, shedding their cloaks and hoods as they walked.
One was about four feet tall, remarkably round with pointed ears and nose, talon-bearing hands, wisps of white hair with a pointed goatee of the same color and gold-rimmed half lenses.
The other was a tall, slender human with ginger-colored hair done up in a ponytail, a pleasant freckled face, and a dangling earring shaped like a dragon's tooth.
Tonks immediately recognized the latter and called out "Wotcher, Bill. How's Charlie?"
Bill Weasley stopped at the table and grinned back at Tonks. "Charlie's doing fine, Tonks" he relied pleasantly. "At least, at last reports, he still had all his limbs." Bill turned his eyes on Moody. "How are you, Mad-Eye?"
"I'm fair, Weasley; thank you for asking. Give my best to your folks when you see them."
"Is it all right to join you, Mad-Eye; Tonks?" Bill seemed a bit uneasy. "We'd like to pick your brains a bit."
Moody's responding grunt didn't seem especially threatening, so, Bill and his companion pulled up chairs and ordered drinks.
"First off, let me present Barnwald, known in banking circles as Barnwald the Golden" Bill addressed them, showing an exaggerated air of respect to the venerable goblin.
Moody seemed to focus a bit more on their guest. "It's not often the director of Gringotts mingles with the public" he growled at the old sprite. "What's the occasion?"
"A crisis of the first magnitude, Alastor Moody" the chief goblin answered with a thin, cracked voice. "We seek the services of a first-class investigator to find and uproot the cause of our destabilization and the undermining of our credibility."
"Could you specify, Weasley?" Moody snarled, his impatience evident.
"In the past few months, there's been a number of counterfeit galleons come to our attention" Bill kept his voice low. "We've traced them back to Diagon Alley, but, can get no further along. We need to stop them and soon."
"What types of information are you investigating?" Tonks asked, professional curiosity aroused. This was a new line of inquiry for her; she and Moody specialized in stuff a bit more rough-and-tumble.
"Wizards who are new to Diagon Alley; those who have stores that specialize in manipulating metals; possible sources of the raw gold and how its infiltrating the country; import companies; smuggling rings; all that line of country." Bill dropped a pile of mismatched parchments on the table. "We've got it all written down."
Barnwald added his own screech: "The villains are causing the erosion of confidence in Gringotts. We must be responsible to our patrons for the trust they invest in us."
Bill took over. "What Barnwald is saying is; if people lose confidence in Gringotts, they'll turn to other sources of capital."
"What sources" Tonks asked, puzzled. "Gringotts is the wizarding bank."
"Private sources, Tonks" Bill replied seriously. "Wealthy families with old money"
"Which greatly increases the influence of those private individuals" Moody added.
"Exactly, Mad-Eye" Bill agreed, "Which is what makes it imperative that this situation gets nipped in the bud. We don't want some of those good citizens gaining that type of power."
"Well, Weasley" Moody growled, "It sounds to me like you're more in need of an auditor than an Auror."
"No, Alastor Moody" the old goblin put in. "We have discussed this at the highest levels and believe that you and the young woman must take this case."
"Not really my cup of tea, Barnwald" Moody snarled. "If you're dead set on an Auror, I can recommend a few. Have you tried John Dawlish, Scrimgeour's apprentice? He's tops academically; they've yet to write a test he couldn't ace; although in the field, he couldn't find his own backside with two wands and a set of printed directions."
"No, no" Barnwald wheezed, "our friends in high places say it must be you."
"I'm sorry, Weasley" Moody growled, "But, my answer is no."
"Well, I'm sorry too, Mad-Eye" Bill answered, sounding quite sincere. "I'd prefer that you took on the case willingly, but, you've left me no choice." With that, Bill raised his eyes to the bar and waved his arm.
Tonks looked in the direction of Bill's gesture and saw one of the figures who had entered with him and Barnwald detach itself from the group and head in their direction. She reached for her wand automatically (Moody's 'constant vigilance' mantra having made its mark on her), when she noticed Moody was sitting as still as a rock and staring at the approaching individual as if in shock.
"What does he see?" she wondered, then got an answer as the figure threw back the hood of the concealing cloak.
Tonks felt her jaw drop in wonder. The newcomer was a woman, but, not just any woman. This one was tall and statuesque; an incredible vision of beauty despite the fact she was in her mid-fifties. Her dark brown hair was confined in a ponytail that hung past her waist with a characteristic white streak that started over her right eye and extended back over her head. She had enormous, dark eyes; a petite nose; and a strong mouth and jaw. Taken as a whole, her appearance went far beyond words like pretty or beautiful. Regal, majestic, or breath-taking summed her up more appropriately.
Tonks felt like a scruffy little ragamuffin in her presence, but, looks were only a small part of the awe she felt. Tonks was stunned because she knew who the woman was on sight, although only from photographs in the Daily Prophet and Chocolate Frog cards. This was the supreme witch of the age; the former Minister of Magic; Millicent Bagnold.
Thousands of young British witches (Tonks included) idolized Millicent Bagnold. She towered above the accomplishments of the average witch or wizard like some unreal colossus. Tonks knew most of her credentials by heart: Prefect, Head Girl, Honors Student, Outstanding in every O.W.L and N.E.W.T., published author. And those were only her academic achievements.
From Hogwarts, she had taken the Ministry of Magic by storm: Chief Interrogator assigned to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; undefeated advocate before wizards' courts at every level; Chief of Magical Law Enforcement before the age of thirty; youngest-ever Elder of the Wizengamont; Ambassador and diplomat to a dozen different countries; Special Counsel/Envoy for the Minister; and finally, Minister of Magic herself at the end of the first war with Voldemort. The wizarding community had survived, until Voldemort's fall at Godric's Hollow, only because of this woman's strength of character and iron resolve. If there were a wizards' Hall of Fame; Millicent Bagnold would have her own wing in it.
The living legend stopped at their table, eying the three males who had stood as she approached. Tonks had remained seated (she doubted if her knees would support her) although, truthfully, she felt like diving under the table.
The statue-like tableau and eerie silence held sway for several heartbeats until Moody broke it with his bass growl: "Hello, Millie."
"It's been much too long, Alastor" the former Minister spoke; her voice a soft, throaty contralto. "May I join you?"
"Who'd stop you, Millie, if you decided that's what you wanted?" Moody grunted as they all took seats; Millicent Bagnold made her common tavern chair seem like a throne.
Millicent smiled quietly at Moody's remark, and then turned her piercing gaze on Tonks. "Ah, this must be your protégé, Nymphadora." Tonks tried to say 'yes, Minister', but all that emerged was a high-pitched squeak. She covered her mouth in embarrassment. "Millicent Bagnold knows my name!" she thought in a panic.
"That's right" Mad-Eye rumbled. "I see you're keeping current."
"Amelia Bones has been kind enough to send me courtesy copies of certain Aurors' reports. I must say, the two of you make a highly effective team." Millicent turned her gaze on Tonks again and favored her with a brilliant smile. Tonks wanted to comb her own hair and make sure her nose was wiped.
That sharp gaze was now focused fully on Moody, who looked as if he were in a game where the rules had suddenly changed and not to his advantage.
"Alastor, have Barnwald and Mr. Weasley explained the situation?" That resonant voice that had prosecuted murderers and negotiated with foreign rulers was boring in on the big Auror.
"They have" Moody spoke curtly.
"It is extremely important that we find the source and destroy it, Alastor."
"There are other investigators, Millie, better suited for this type of thing" Moody snarled.
"But, you are the best and this state of affairs requires the best."
Moody looked ready to burst, but, he merely shifted in his seat and rumbled, quietly "You know I can't say no to you, Millie."
The former Minister smiled triumphantly. "True, Alastor; an unfair advantage, but, when have I ever shied from using whatever leverage was at my disposal?"
"Not since I've known you. It's one of the things that make you the woman you are."
"How sweet of you to notice" Millicent now stood, the men and Barnwald rising with her. "Take whatever time you need to sort this out; I'll speak to Amelia personally about the matter." She paused and then smiled that dazzling smile. "It's really wonderful to see you again, Alastor." She turned her eyes on Tonks again "And lovely to finally meet you, Nymphadora." She actually reached out and squeezed Tonks' hand. "Do stay in touch, you two." She turned on her heel and left to rejoin the group at the bar, Bill and Barnwald scrambling after her.
Tonks felt her breath whoosh out of her mouth. She turned to her mentor in awe. "You never told me you know Millicent Bagnold!"
Moody took a swallow from his flagon. "We went to Hogwarts together; spent a lot of time in each other's company. And spent a lot of time together at the Ministry." He took another gulp. "A lot of time . . ." He slammed down his mug and scooped up the stack of parchments.
"So, where do we start?" Tonks asked, starting to get into gear with a new case.
"Since we're in the neighborhood" Moody snarled, "we'll hit Diagon Alley."
The Path of Gold
(From "The Adventures of Mad-Eye Moody")
Chapter Two – Window Shopping
Ask any English witch or wizard the location of the true center of the British magical community and 99 would tell it was Diagon Alley. Here, all manner of enchanted merchandise, services, devices, and raw commodities changed hands daily. It seemed amazing to Tonks that there could be a flourishing business in something as mundane as ice cream.
The wind and driving rain had finally subsided. Tonks was seated at one of the outdoor tables to be found outside of Florean Fetescue's Ice Cream Parlor, greedily slurping down a butterscotch malted and keeping half an ear on Moody's conversation.
Moody sat across the table from her, holding an animated, whispered conversation with one of his numerous street contacts. This one was a short, squat, bandy-legged man with long, straggly, ginger hair, and bloodshot, baggy eyes. Tonks noted his tattered clothing, unshaven face, and the fact that he smelled of stale alcohol and tobacco.
Moody seemed decidedly impatient with the little tramp, whom he referred to as 'Dung'; Tonks could heartily agree with that name. She got two distinct impressions of Dung: that he seemed untrustworthy and that he was absolutely terrified of Mad-Eye.
The conference must have run its course, because she heard Moody dismiss the little man with a growl of: "Well, keep me informed, Dung. Tell me anything you hear; I'll decide if it's important or not."
Dung seemed to take these instructions as a personal threat. "No need to get on so, Mad-Eye; I've told yeh, I'll let yeh know what I can nose out." With which, he vacated his chair and scurried down the street as if on urgent business.
"Are you sure about recruiting the likes of that, Mad-Eye?" Tonks asked in earnest. "He struck me as a cheap pickpocket that I wouldn't trust with the residue of a cat box."
"Your instincts are good, Tonks" Moody rumbled. "Dung Fletcher is the most untrustworthy piece of trash I've ever encountered. But, he's devoted to Dumbledore and he can be mighty handy to have around sometimes since he hears things others don't."
"So, what's our next step?" she asked after swigging a bit more malt. "Do we sit around waiting on Dung? I don't think Fetescue thinks you're very good for business." She chortled under her breath.
Moody picked up the stack of parchments they had received from Bill Weasley. "We start here" he grumbled. "We're looking for a recent shop opening or one that's changed hands recently. We can eliminate those that had initial loans from Gringotts because those goblins know their stuff; they'll thoroughly investigate anyone who asks for money."
With a fresh soda obtained from Florean, Tonks set to the task with a will. Her ice cream slowly diminished as her stack of discards grew. Finally, feeling an ache behind her eyes, she sorted the last sheet into its proper stack and sat back.
"Three shops only that meet our criteria, Moody" she sounded disappointed. Moody scooped up the three papers and read aloud: "'Malcolm's Magical Greenery'; 'Gentry's Exotica'; and 'Fleming's Herbal Teas'." He grunted. "Not exactly the most foreboding list I've ever read." He snorted in disgust and dropped the papers on the table.
Tonks grinned evilly at her mentor. "Do we go together, then? I'll pay money to see you in an herbal tea shop." She snorted with laughter.
"How strong are you in Herbology?" he grumbled back. When she shrugged indifferently, he nodded and said "I'll take Malcolm's; you do the tea shop" he glanced at one paper "and we'll meet at #93 in an hour and check Gentry's together."
With a final muted chuckle, Tonks drained her malt, stood and headed down the street. She knew from her reading that Fleming's Tea Shoppe was tucked away at the far end of Diagon Alley; between Ollivander's and the second-hand robe shop. Moody's target was next door to Slug & Jiggers Apothecary and she glanced back to see him stumping off in the other direction.
Exactly one hour later, Tonks was slouching slowly up the street, wishing she had a staff like Mad-Eye's to help her along. Although all she had done was sit, sip tea and talk, she felt beaten to a pulp mentally. Tonks wasn't sure if any physical conditioning session at the Academy had ever drained her like this last hour had.
She spotted her partner leaning on that staff, waiting for her in the avenue. He watched her approach with an expression that was both concerned and amused.
"What's wrong, Dora?" he inquired politely. "Too much tea?"
"I've only had a single cup" she snarled. "It seems that, in addition to running their tea shop, the Fleming sisters are frustrated, amateur matchmakers and they know just the young man for me! They'll set up a meeting if I'll let them slip me into a nice, frilly dress!"
"Now, that's something I'll pay money to see!" Moody roared. As Tonks bared her teeth at him, Moody got serious. "What else did you learn, besides that two old women think you've been single long enough?"
Tonks calmly recited the facts she'd learned when not answering questions about how well she could cook and keep house. "It seems Doris and Mildred Fleming are two spinsters who have lived together since their parents died. They have lived all their lives in Sussex; Doris made money giving piano lessons to Muggles, enhanced by magic, while Mildred kept bees and sold jars of home-raised honey. They've dreamed of this little tea shop for over forty years and finally put aside enough to start up."
"They serve a variety of teas imported from China, India, Sri Lanka, and South America. They also carry a line of incense that they bring in from India and the Far East. I've seen their import licenses and they were all in order."
"Even so, illegal materials can be placed in crates sent along legally. South America and China are major gold sources in the world and whoever is manufacturing these fake galleons will need a supply of the raw material." Moody growled, stood ruminating over Tonks' report, and then, made his own.
"Wilfred Malcolm is a hopeless mess of a wizard with no talent for anything other than raising plants. He is the only child of an old, wealthy family; I guess his Dad put up the money for his shop, rather than have him rattling about the house, doing nothing. He wouldn't get specific on his source of funding; possibly out of embarassment"
"He gets his plants from several domestic greenhouses; I've sent a list by owl to Mona Sprout to verify their legitimacy. He's imported a few exotics; all with Ministry approval. He did get a shipment of Kangaroo Bush from Australia, which is another source of gold. So, while I think both shops are unlikely as the center of this counterfeiting operation, we can't rule either out just yet." Moody shook his head. "I guess we may as well check this one, too." He looked disgusted.
Tonks led the way into Gentry's Exotica, glancing at the windows flanking the shop door. One had a display of African tribal masks, headdresses, and drums; the other vases with decorations that smacked of India, wooden tigers, and hookahs.
Inside was a neat, clean little shop with tables and shelves seemingly dedicated to souvenirs from different parts of the world. Native American, South American, Mexican, Scandinavian, Far Eastern, Chinese; Tonks gave up trying to mentally categorize the merchandise and concentrated on evaluating the man behind the counter.
He was tall, lean, and pale; surprisingly young (Tonks estimated he was about 10 years her senior), with a thick, light brown thatch of hair and matching sideburns. He was clad in clean, well-tailored robes of pale green. Her only criticism of his appearance was his eyes: they seemed troubled, sunken, and slightly cadaverous.
"Welcome to Gentry's; I am Niles Gentry; may I help you?" his voice, a pleasant tenor, fit him perfectly.
Moody stumped over to the counter to speak quietly with Gentry while Tonks kept looking at the unique goods inhabiting the shelves. The miniature pyramids and sphinxes from Egypt were exquisite but expensive; a decorated Indian elephant complete with howdah was beautiful, but, she was especially intrigued by some small ivory carvings on a back table.
These appeared to depict various scenes of Eskimo life and culture and examples of Alaskan wildlife. Not much to brag about, except, these little statuettes were moving. The Eskimo in the kayak was paddling; the wolf sat on his haunches and silently howled; the seal clapped his flippers; all were animate and fascinating.
She saw Moody going over import licenses with Gentry, so returned to her perusal. Finally, after a vigorous mental debate (and an inventory of her purse), she selected a tiny ivory polar bear who sniffed for prey, stalked along an imaginary icepack, and reared on his hind legs to scan for quarry in the distance.
Carrying her prize to the counter, she saw Moody had finished his inquiries and was waiting for her.
"I'll take this one" she said, plunking the little bear on the counter.
"Three sickles; special price for Ministry personnel" Gentry smiled a trifle sourly.
Completing her purchase, Tonks pocketed her carving and trotted out the door after Moody. Outside, she caught up to her senior partner and asked "So, which shop houses our mad counterfeiter?"
"I can't be sure yet, Dora" Moody grumbled. "I'll have a better idea after we visit Portsmouth."
"Oh; and what, pray tell, is in Portsmouth?"
"McCarty's Freight Company; at least, that was the name of the import company on all Gentry's bills of lading and on the crates in his back room."
"So, is he a suspect? He struck me as being rather innocuous."
"They're all suspects, right now. I put no greater emphasis on Gentry than the others. He says he saved for his start-up money from his wages; he's been employed in Diagon Alley since he graduated Hogwarts in 1980 and has always wanted his own shop" Moody paused and reflected "and, he has his upstairs living quarters heavily warded."
"That's not especially significant; lots of wizards value their privacy." She glanced at her mentor with a mischievous grin.
"I'm not moving him to the head of the list just yet, Dora" Mad-Eye growled. "We need to move on and he may be the easiest to eliminate."
"Alastor! Tonks! What a pleasant surprise" That high, piercing voice was one of the few which was guaranteed to compel Tonks' full attention at once. The fact was that, while at Hogwarts, she had spent more time in detention for Minerva McGonagall than she had in her dorm. At least, it seemed that way to Tonks.
Now, the tall, severe Transfiguration teacher was striding across the street towards them, a pleased smile on her face. Tonks, perhaps unconsciously, slid behind Moody's right shoulder as they waited politely on McGonagall's approach.
"Hello, Minerva; fancy meeting you here with school in session" Moody said civilly.
"I'm picking up some supplies for my fourth year class" Professor McGonagall said. She rolled her eyes. "This group is going through hedgehogs faster than any I've ever had; although, without much in the way of results."
"Speaking of classes; we've just finished interviewing Niles Gentry. I believe he must be an old student of yours." Moody spoke off-handedly, but Tonks suspected there was purpose behind the question. Moody had always counseled her to make the most of any opportunity to acquire information during an investigation.
"Gentry? Oh yes, of course" McGonagall's eyes lit up with recognition and she nodded her head. "I had him 15 years ago or so. Not much in the way of talent and not much backbone either, as I recall."
"Did you know he was opening a shop of his own?" Moody asked politely.
"No, this is the first I've heard of that. I must stop in and congratulate him" the professor remarked, with what Tonks could only describe as outright surprise.
"Do you know what he's been doing since graduation, Professor?" Tonks asked.
"I'd heard he found employment with one of the cauldron manufacturers." McGonagall answered. "That and squandering his money as fast as he earned it; Quite the party animal is Niles Gentry." She looked disgusted.
Moody seemed thoughtful. "So, how did he save up to start his own shop?"
"I wouldn't know" Professor McGonagall said, a touch impatiently. "It certainly wasn't through talent. All he ever showed any exceptional aptitude for was transfiguring metals."
The Path of Gold
(From "The Adventures of Mad-Eye Moody")
Chapter Three – Cold Storage
Portsmouth, by virtue of being the only English city sitting entirely on a small island, has always been an important seaport. Both the Royal Navy and the commercial shipping industry have thrived in this municipality since men first took to the sea.
Portsmouth harbor at night offered an impelling vista to the casual tourist. The blue-black water with its rhythmic ripples beautifully complemented the star-sprinkled shroud of the southern sky. The snoozing hulks of darkened freighters rocked to-and-fro with the waves and the cold wind. The creak of the crane booms swaying in the wind sang soprano to the baritone groans of the wharfs.
Set back from the waterline, clusters of dark, silent warehouses provided a temporary respite to the countless crates of goods that had paused in their travels. Here and there, a weak streetlamp cast a thin yellow cone of light into the unrelenting black of the broad avenues that separated the redundant looking structures.
The feral cats, which failed miserably in their duty of keeping the area rat-free, were startled out of their focus on their appointed rounds by an unfamiliar sounding clunk – clunk. Moody and Tonks strolled purposefully down one of the dark boulevards, constantly scanning signs posted near the walk-in doors of warehouse after warehouse.
"There" Moody barked, pointing with his staff. Tonks, who could see nothing in the gloom, followed his lead and sauntered in the indicated direction. Slowly, a splotch of white struggled out of the unrelenting black of the building, finally congealing into a faded white board sign with red block letters. 'McCarty Freight Company' it broadcast to any who cared to glance at it.
A quick glance by Moody scanned for Muggle authorities, and then, at his nod, Tonks applied the wizard's version of the skeleton key, "Alohamora". The pair pushed through the unresisting door, closed it behind them, and surveyed the environs.
The interior of the warehouse showed the building to be a virtual hollow shell. One corner to their left had been walled off to form a small office, but, the remainder of the floor space, adequate for a small cathedral was covered with cargo and the tools for handling it in an efficient manner.
To their immediate right sat an undersized industrial forklift, scratched and dented from years of unappreciated service. Beyond the lift sat a tired-looking lorry; faded, dented with a musty canvas cover over the bed, sat poised before the double doors that provided it escape into the streets.
The rest of the storehouse was filled to the roof with sealed crates and cases of material, laid out in even rows and precariously stacked. A narrow alley was available for forklift operation between the rows, but, the overall impression was a labyrinth of wood, dust, and cobwebs.
Moody stood, contemplating the task before them, snorted through his nose and said "Lock the door and let's get busy. You start on the right; I'll start on the left."
Tonks looked at the towering line up of crates, heaved a huge sigh, and began creeping along the first row, examining the labels and stencils on each container. Slowly, meticulously, she went over every box on her end of the warehouse. She found crates from all over the globe, intended for various locations about the Isles, but, saw nothing intended for Diagon Alley.
She was feeling frustrated and impatient when she turned down her fifth aisle and saw Moody working his way towards her. She quickly scanned the remaining crates on her end and met her partner in the middle.
"Now what, Mad-Eye?" she queried. "This place is a dead-end."
Moody stood quietly, turning events over in his mind. "There's got to be something we're overlooking, Dora" he rumbled. "The dates on the packing crates at Gentry's show dates of approximately 3 week intervals and the latest were the first of this month. There should be a shipment for him right now."
Suddenly, he smacked his forehead with his hand, barked "Idiot!" spun on his heel and stumped toward the front of the warehouse. Tonks hurried to catch up. Moody was shaking his head in disgust.
"It's in the back of the lorry" he snapped, impatient with himself. "I should've checked there first." They stopped at the rear of the vehicle and Moody yanked the tarp to one side. "There, have a look, Tonks."
Tonks boosted herself up on the bumper and peered in the bed of the carrier. Three wooden crates, twice as long as they were wide, were tightly packed in the bed. The two on the ends were adorned with cargo labels: one had originated in Mombassa; the other in San Diego. The center crate, however, was marked only with a strange device: a stencil of a rampant eagle with two heads.
"Which is it, Mad-Eye?" Tonks hissed.
"The middle one" he rumbled back. "There's a false bottom and the hidden compartment is stuffed with nuggets. I think we should . . ." Moody broke off suddenly and looked towards the door.
"Company" he barked and helped her down from her perch. "Against the back wall, quick!"
As they retreated to the rear of the warehouse, Tonks heard the door bang open, muttered voices, and the shuffling of many feet. Bracing against the rear wall, Moody quickly applied his Disillusionment spell to both of them.
After several tense moments, Tonks felt warm breath on her ear. "They're grouping about that lorry" she heard Moody rumble. "Let's sneak up and eavesdrop a bit" Tonks nodded her understanding and began to stealthily creep up the aisle towards the intruders.
Reaching the mouth of the row, Tonks crouched and listened. A large group of common street toughs, a dozen or so, were grouped about a tall, lean figure in a concealing robe who was quietly issuing instructions. One man was in the cab of the lorry, fiddling under the dashboard.
Tonks rose out of her crouch, concentrating on the group leader, when it happened. Her left elbow brushed a precariously stacked box that came crashing to the floor.
All heads instantly turned in her direction. The robed figure pulled out a wand and launched a magical flare to the ceiling. "Spies!" he bellowed. "Get them!"
Three of the thugs, armed with crowbars and hammers, were heading straight at Tonks. Glancing over, she saw the shadowy form of Moody being surrounded by the bulk of the crowd. Suddenly, a large packing crate detached from a pile and began to cartwheel through the group of hoodlums, scattering them like tenpins.
Tonks retreated down the aisle, her three assailants following. "Well, I guess they can see me" she thought. Waving her wand, she shouted "Reducto" and destroyed a crate at the bottom of a stack right next to the ruffians. The remaining crates toppled directly onto the small gang, knocking them all to the ground.
Suddenly, the engine of the lorry roared to life. "Damn!" Tonks thought. "He was hotwiring the thing!" She heard the vehicle crash through the large double doors, the squeal of tires and the fading sound of the truck and its cargo vanishing into the night.
Tonks sprinted around the end of the stacked crates and turned up the next aisle. She pulled up abruptly as the lean, cloaked figure of the group leader stood there, blocking her exit. He pointed his wand at her and shook back his hood, revealing the pale features of Niles Gentry.
"I was afraid you two would turn up here after your visit to my shop" he snarled. "You're mucking in the wrong business, girly, and now, you'll have to pay."
As he loosed a bolt from his wand, Tonks instantly invoked a Shield charm, shoulder-rolled to her right, and came up firing.
"Expelliarmus" she roared. Her blast caught Gentry square in the chest and sent the shop keeper flying backwards into an unsteady stack of crates. An avalanche of wood thundered to the floor, engulfing Tonks' assailant with a cloud of dust.
Tonks strode forward and stood over the smoking figure of Gentry, lying in a heap in the midst of a pile of tumbled crates. Her normally-attractive features were contorted in a sneer of pure contempt. "The day I can't best some store clerk in a duel, I will let the Fleming sisters stuff me in a dress and marry me off."
She looked over her shoulder as Mad-Eye came stumping over to join her. "I got Gentry" she said "but, the fellow got away with the lorry and the crate."
"Then, we tie up loose ends here and move on" her partner growled. He pointed his wand at Gentry, murmured "Encarcerous", and quickly had the store keeper bound like a Christmas gift.
Next, Moody pointed his wand at the wreck of the double doors and bellowed "Expecto Patronum." Silver mist shot out of the end of his wand and swiftly coalesced into the form of a large, male lion. "Go report the situation to Amelia" Moody barked and the great, silver beast turned and sprinted off into the night.
"What was that all about, Moody?" Tonks asked with interest.
"A trick of Dumbledore's" her mentor replied. "Highly effective means of communication. Remind me to show you later."
"So, what now?" Tonks inquired. "Do we go back to Diagon Alley and close down Gentry's shop?"
Moody shook his head. "Once Amelia's squad collects Gentry and his stooges, we head for Diagon Alley, all right. But, we're going to Madam Malkin's"
"What do we need at the robe shop?"
"You need a temperature adjusting travel cloak, like mine" Moody said. "Where we're going next, it's apt to be a bit chilly", he eyed his partner significantly, "In more ways than one."