The Looking Glass Prison

by moodyblues53

To save a member of the Hogwarts staff, Moody & Tonks must go on the most incredible quest of their careers.

The Looking-Glass Prison

(From "The Adventures of Mad-Eye Moody")

Chapter One – Drudgery and Discovery

The noonday sun of August in the Caribbean sent a cascade of blistering, shimmering heat over the tiny island. Sea breezes added a wet humidity, but offered no relief in the swelter.

The petite bit of rock in the middle of the azure-blue water was a southwest facing half moon shape; its twin arms covered in sparkling white sand beaches; its cove sheltered by grey stone cliffs about 200 feet high. About 2 miles long around the curve and one mile across at its widest point, the little atoll had few points of interest to commend it, save one

At its highest point, the isle supported the remains of an ancient structure on top of a grassy hillock which offered a commanding view of the surrounding sea and scattered palms which offered scant shelter to the island's few inhabitants.

These non-native invaders were not dwelling in the ruins, but had erected a small, patched, green pup tent, adjacent to a dilapidated, overgrown graveyard. Now, the tent flaps parted and one of the occupants emerged into the harsh Caribbean sunlight.

He was a tall, burly youth of 16 years, dark-eyed and reddish-blonde. He was dressed in denim work pants, heavy boots, and had the sleeves of his sweat-stained tan shirt rolled up, revealing arms heavily corded with muscle. He rummaged through a pile of tools next to the tent and, shouldering a spade-fork and shovel, stalked toward the ruins.

He veered away from the south end of the structure, from whence voices and the sounds of digging emanated and rounded the northern-most corner. About halfway down the wall, a cellar way adorned with wide, stone steps descended into shadow. The youngster made his way down these steps and into the darkness.

At the bottom of the stairs, he stood for a moment in the rough stone doorway and surveyed the open space in front of him. It was a large, single room of about 200 square feet. The walls were of rough-cut stones piled in layers with 3 slit windows on either side to admit small beams of sunlight. Abandoned brackets for torches were spread about and six stone pillars supported a featureless, flat gray ceiling that stood 10 feet above the compacted dirt floor. At the far wall, a single door led to the corridor of small rooms the students had dubbed "the Dungeon". In the center of the room stood the remains of a dilapidated brick kiln or forge; this had led the students to christen this room "the Smithy".

A series of squares, 3 feet by 3 feet, had been drawn on the floor in white chalk, some of which showed signs of recent excavation. The youth moved to the square directly in front of the forge, dropped the shovel, and began to break earth in that square with his spading fork.

The steady chop-chop of the fork settled into a regular rhythm as he worked and allowed his restless mind to wander. This had been his routine for the two weeks duration of this field trip. The excitement of travel and adventure had deteriorated into routine drudgery and physical labor. The fever of exploration, to go and see the ruins of the keep of Scarlet Jack Douglas, rumored to have been the only wizard-captain in the age of piracy, had turned as dull as one of Professor Binns' classroom lectures. Treading in the footsteps of real pirates on the Isla de Sombres had turned into a two week, 24 hour a day detention.

Still, the very regular nature of the work allowed him time to ruminate of the coming school year at Hogwarts. Seventh year and he and his friends would be taking N.E.W.T. exams and making career decisions. Thinking of his friends brought a smile to the boy's serious expression.

His friends; bubbly, delightful, loyal Mona who was as tough and courageous as any; blustery, argumentative Burt whose fiery nature masked a gallant, chivalrous soul; and Millie; beautiful, intellectual, gifted Millie who as was totally dedicated to her friends as to her principles.

His friends and Hogwarts were the driving forces in his life now. With his mother's passing, the thought of rattling around inside the remote Yorkshire farmhouse where he'd grown up, with only his taciturn older brother for company, was abhorrent to him. That was the reason for his volunteering for this expedition, even though History of Magic was a subject he loathed. Better two weeks with Binns and some classmates than two weeks with William and his chickens.

The young man paused in his labor and moved directly in front of the forge. Inexplicably, he had been drawn to this room since their arrival and had made its exploration his sole occupation. While the others had turned up tarnished silverware from the floor of the kitchens and old rusty buttons from the dungeons, he had methodically searched this smithy for some sign of the activity this room had witnessed 300 years before.

So far, his efforts had been futile and now, as this was their last day here, he was determined to explore this rundown piece of brickwork. He took a stance with legs braced, drove his fork into the earth directly in front of the furnace . . . and changed his life forever.

The tines of the fork penetrated the ground two inches, and then stopped abruptly with a dull thud. Not the sharp, metallic sound of metal striking rock or brick, but the muffled thump of a hollow object hit hard.

The boy pulled the fork back and looked at his last indentation in the dirt. Then, tossing his implement aside, he got down on his knees and began to scrape away the soil with his hands. In a flash, he had unearthed a dirt-encrusted, wooden box, about the size of a small brick.

He sat looking at his prize a moment, and then began rubbing away the dirt with a rag from his pocket. The box appeared to be covered in carved runes; it was made of rosewood with hinges and a hasp of brass. He suspected it was protected by some charm; otherwise his fork would have gone straight through it.

Pulling out his wand, he tested for other defensive hexes on the box, but the standard investigative spells indicated none other than the one that secured the item from damage. Making a snap decision, he placed the box on the forge and, using his wand, gently flipped the lid open. When nothing untoward happened, he decided to look.

The interior of the box, including the underside of the lid, was lined with bright, red velvet. Seated inside were two objects: a small, folded piece of parchment and a small bundle wrapped in more red velvet. Curbing his eagerness, he reached for the parchment first. He unfolded it on the forge top and read its single message:

I hope this is right

E. F.

The writing was tight and crabbed, the parchment and ink were standard for the late 17th century, and he had no idea at all who E.F. could possibly be or why he would leave such an odd message in a closed box. He folded the parchment again, stowed it in his pocket, and turned to the bundle.

It was small, fitting in the palm of his hand, and light. He felt the contours and determined the object within the velvet was round and smooth; smaller than a billiard ball, but larger than a marble. Taking the bit between his teeth, he broke the seal, unfolded the velvet and stared in amazement.

Staring back at him was a bright, blue eye; perfectly executed in flawless glass; correct in every detail. He raised it up to examine it more closely. It was an exquisite piece of workmanship; he could almost imagine it was looking at him as he made his inspection. He wondered if there was detailed work in the core and brought it closer, looking deep into the black lens, when, suddenly, it happened!

The glass orb leapt from his grasp and adhered to his right eye socket. He reeled back in shock, raising his hand to brush off the offending thing . . . and received his second major surprise in the last few moments.

He knew his right eye was blocked by the orb, yet, he could still see perfectly in front of him. Moreover, he could see behind and to either side. He could feel the eye spinning and wheeling, but, all it took in was apparently being conveyed to him. He had often gone to the Muggle cinema and this was similar. An entire panorama of the room was being played inside his head. Even more, the eye was showing him the other rooms and the outdoors. This eye could see through walls!

He staggered back against the forge, overwhelmed by the spectacle on display in his mind. He tried focusing his will on the eye, ordering it to stop spinning and look straight ahead. The eye halted on command, providing him a view through the wall and at the campsite. He saw Harmony, the pretty fifth-year Ravenclaw coming in his direction. Oops, he suddenly saw too much!!

Turning aside, he growled "Enough, you infernal thing! You're giving me a bloody headache!!" Instantly, the eye detached from his face and dropped toward the ground. Reflexively, his right hand caught it; he shook his head and stared at the eye in amazement. He wondered what to make of this incredible discovery. Should he show it to Binns? Should he show it to anyone?

The sound of footfalls on the stone steps brought him out of his reverie. "Alastor" Harmony called out. "Alastor, Professor Binns wants everyone to start breaking camp; we portkey out in an hour."

"Right you are, Harmony" the youth bellowed. "I'll be there in two shakes." When he heard her footsteps leaving, he quickly replaced the eye and parchment in the box, which he shoved into a pocket. He gathered his tools and headed for the stairs. He paused at the threshold and surveyed the Smithy one last time.

He glanced down and addressed the hidden eye. "You and me have some practicing to do, my new friend. Now, back to Britain; I just hope I can look at Harmony without blushing." With a harsh, barking laugh, he strode purposefully out into the sunlight.

The Looking Glass Prison

(From "The Adventures of Mad-Eye Moody")

Chapter Two – The Uninvited Guest

A midsummer afternoon in Devon was a picture of rural tranquility. Great elms shaded the banks of the Otter River, lazy breezes off the south coast caressed the verdant fields and countryside and the landscape of rolling hills dotted with small towns conveyed a blissful picture of calm and serenity.

Just to the south of the village of Ottery St. Catchpole, hidden behind a prominent green hillock crowned with a thick, rustic orchard stood a most remarkable structure. It seemed to be a quaint farmhouse built out of spare parts left over from other construction sites.

It was a gray, six-storied building whose sections appeared to have been stacked as carelessly as a toddler's building blocks. It had rust-colored shingles on its four different sections of roof, its visible brickwork was a complete hodgepodge of mismatched elements, and the several tall chimneys appeared to be fighting a high wind.

The grounds surrounding this eccentricity were just as curious as the main structure. Behind the house was a large garden, surrounded by a fence and a hedge, as well as gnarled trees. There was also has a big green pond, full of frogs whose chorus added to the character of the estate. The garden was in an advanced stage of overgrowth, filled with weeds and with grass that needed cutting. Off the garden, on the north side, was a run-down shed constructed of stacked fieldstone topped with a ramshackle roof.

The front of the property was highlighted by a stone garage that had apparently been given over to a small flock of chickens that meandered in and out of the open doors at will. These strutted around and about an eclectic slalom of discarded Wellington boots, a rusty cauldron, and a lopsided sign stuck in the ground which announced to any visitors that they had reached "The Burrow".

Directly inside the back door of the Burrow, any semblance of summer calm had been dissipated in a whirlwind of redheaded activity. A short, plump, matronly woman was bustling about the small kitchen. She was simultaneously attending to various pans cooking in the large fireplace, checking and rechecking the place settings on a well-scrubbed wooden table, and attempting to ride herd on (and referee) a group of four red-haired boys and one diminutive red-haired girl.

The eldest boy was attempting to escape down a narrow corridor which ended in a flight of wooden stairs ascending to the home's upper floors; the identical twin boys were attempting to sidle out the door; the daughter was clinging to the sleeve of her youngest brother, jumping up and down and shrieking a question at the top of her lungs.

"ENOUGH!!" the mother finally bellowed, imposing a deathly silence on her brood and frightening an elderly grey owl on a perch next to the door, who immediately toppled to the floor.

"Percy Weasley" she indicated the eldest, pointing her index finger like a weapon "you will remain here long enough to help set the table before you disappear into that bedroom of yours for another month." Eyes snapping, she focused on the twins. "Fred and George, you will stay put and help me with the food and tea before you head up to the orchard for illicit Quiddich practice." Next, she trained her sights on the two youngsters. "That goes for you as well, Ronald Weasley, and if I ever catch you using that kind of language to your sister again, I'll have you scrubbing pots until the first of September."

Ron drew back and shuddered, endeavoring to extricate his arm from his sister's clutches. "Ginny" Mrs. Weasley barked. "Your brother said he hasn't gotten any reply to his letters from Harry. When he does, I'm sure he'll let you read it. Now, all of you" and her gaze swept the room "pitch in and get this room ready; they'll be here any minute."

Keeping their mutterings at a pitch below the level of a mother's hearing (they hoped), the family began setting up for afternoon tea. In no time, a worn but elegant set of cups and saucers were decorating the table top with geometric precision; sugar and cream had made an appearance; stylish cutlery added a neat flair; a small tub of butter stood attendance on a platter of freshly-baked scones and crumpets in the center.

Mrs. Weasley checked the table for the umpteenth time, pulled off her gaily flowered apron and patted her cheeks with it, before it floated leisurely into the small anteroom of the kitchen to wait laundering. With a wave of her hand, she bade her three youngest boys adieu and, with joyful shouts of freedom regained, they pelted out the door and raced for the shed, nearly bowling over Ginny who was delivering fresh-picked flowers from the garden.

Ginny had retreated to her bedroom for a good sulk or to moon over Harry; the Quiddich trio, brooms shouldered, had vanished into the orchard; Percy had escaped civilized company for the sanctuary of his bedroom and his own private endeavors; and Mrs. Weasley had assumed a strategic position at the front window when her company appeared.

Two figures suddenly appeared from thin air and began walking up the well-worn path to the house. The lead individual was a young woman of medium height with (Mrs. Weasley noted a bit enviously) an attractive figure clothed appropriately for either a rock concert or soccer match. She wore knee-high black boots, a denim skirt that hung to mid-thigh, a bright red halter top that was partly concealed inside a black leather jacket decorated with silver studs. An ornamental choker that perfectly matched the jacket adorned her lily-white neck. Above the choker, her heart-shaped face featured a full-lipped, smiling mouth; a delightfully up-turned nose; and alert, bright hazel eyes. Topping her was an untidy mop of shoulder-length purple hair.

The young woman had a look of vigorous, bouncy energy about her; she was continuously scanning her surroundings as though to take in every detail. The only thing detracting from her air of vibrant, alert womanhood was the moment she was peering at the house's upper stories and stepped into the rusty cauldron lying in the yard.

The companion who followed her was distinctly different. He was a tall, large-framed older man clad in black. If she was constantly observing her environs, he strode purposely forward as though on a mission. That is, he strode with his right leg; his left foot, peeking out below the hem of his traveling cloak, appeared to be carved from wood, and shaped like some monster talon or paw. Swinging this appendage forward produced a distinct limp which he compensated for with a five-foot, heavy wooden staff in his right hand.

The face above this man's body was almost as alien as his odd foot. It looked like someone had chiseled it out of reddish rock with an unsteady jackhammer. The mouth was an uneven gash beneath a nose that was missing a large chunk from the bridge. Nearly ever square inch of his face was covered in scars that stretched up into the hairline of his mane of uniform gray which hung to his collar. His left eye was black, shiny, and sharp; his right was stunning to those who first met him: a round, glassy artificial eye of electric blue that spun and whirled about in the socket like some demented top.

Mrs.Weasley bustled out the front door and stood at the top of the porch to greet the arrivals. "Alastor" she called cheerfully to the demonic-looking man, "it's so good to see you again."

Alastor stumped up to the porch and took her proffered hand in his, while his companion stood to one side, beaming happily. "Always a pleasure to see you, Molly" he said in a bass rumble. Turning to the young woman, he growled "I don't know if you've ever met Nymphadora Tonks, my latest Auror-in-training?"

Molly turned to the girl and smiled in a motherly fashion. "Oh, we've never met, but, I know all about Tonks. Arthur speaks of her often and she was a classmate of Charlie's, you know". She grasped Tonks' hand warmly. "You're very welcome here, my girl."

Tonks returned Molly's glowing smile. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Weasley. And thank you for inviting us to tea. I've heard so much about you from Arthur and Charlie; I've been looking forward to this." Her musical, low-pitched voice seemed to suit her completely.

"Perfectly all right, Tonks. Do come in, both of you. We'll have tea in the kitchen, if that's all right." She led them into her home, showing the way through the sitting room to the homey wooden table.

Soon, all three were seated at one end of the table; Molly at the head, Alastor with his back to the fireplace with a view of the whole ground floor and Tonks opposite him. Molly waved her wand and her teapot floated over to serve them. When Alastor reached inside of his cloak, Molly gasped, in a scandalized voice "Alastor Moody, don't you dare pull out that flask. The very idea . . . as if you need to fear poisoning in my house."

Moody swiftly withdrew his hand and shrugged sheepishly "Sorry, Molly; old habits and all that." To mollify her, Moody began buttering a scone.

Appearing appeased, Molly turned to Tonks. "So, tell me; how's training going? Is Alastor teaching you all the tricks of the trade?"

Tonks chuckled. "Oh yes; there's never a dull minute around Mad-Eye." She grinned at Moody fondly. "I completely understand why his exploits are legend and why the rest of the Ministry lives in terror of him." She laughed heartily.

Moody grunted as he bit his scone in half. "Useless, spineless paper pushers with heads full of air. If they'd put half the effort into making things better as they do trying to get one up on each other, we'd all live a lot easier. But, what can you expect with Fudge in charge? He puts more exertion into planning cocktail parties than he does into combating dark magic." He snorted, spraying several crumbs on the linen tablecloth.

He drained his tea in one gulp and looked directly at Molly. "Wish we had a few more like Arthur. The higher-ups dismiss him as hopeless, but he's got more perspective, common sense, and backbone than the whole Wizengamont combined." Molly nearly blushed at this praise of her husband; Moody's opinion carried a lot of weight with her.

"Speaking of backbone, I hear your youngest boy showed his metal this year at Hogwarts. Helping Harry Potter get through some kind of obstacle course or such, wasn't it? Dumbledore was a bit sketchy on the details." He looked at Molly significantly.

"Oh yes; he and Harry and their friend, Hermione Granger, were able to keep some rogue teacher from getting the Philosopher's Stone." Molly seemed to warm to her tale. "Apparently, they had to . . . GOOD HEAVENS!!"

Molly's shrill exclamation was caused by a loud, resounding CRACK! from the sitting room. Both Tonks and Moody had pulled wands and wheeled, reflexively; Tonks placing herself between Molly and the source of the disturbance.

Said source stood on the sitting room carpet staring at the three humans. It was a wizened little being of roughly human shape and about three feet tall. It had large feet, and hands which it wrung continuously. It was gray-skinned with wispy, white hair; large pointed ears stuck out from the sides of its head; great, round, brown eyes regarded the three and its nose resembled a small, lumpy potato. It was clothed in what appeared to be a large, fluffy, white towel that was draped across it in the manner of a toga. The towel was marked with a bright, distinctive coat of arms.

Tonks was the first to recover from the intrusion and speak. "Good Lord; what's a Hogwarts house-elf doing here?"

"If you please, miss" the elf replied in a high, squeaky voice "I is sent by Professor Dumbledore to seek Master Moody." The little creature looked hopefully at the big Auror.

"If you are from Dumbledore; towels can be conjured or stolen" Moody growled suspiciously. "Tonks, ask him something a Hogwarts elf would know."

Tonks addressed the elf. "Tell me: how would a student get into the kitchens at Hogwarts?"

"Is easy, miss" the elf replied immediately. "They goes down stone steps from the entrance hall into a hall with paintings of food. When they tickles the pear in the painting of a fruit bowl . . ." Tonks cut him off. "He's legitimate, Mad-Eye" she said to her mentor.

"Right" said Mad-eye, looking at the elf. "Why didn't Dumbledore come himself?"

"Professor Dumbledore is trying to save his rubies, sir. So, he sends Jolly to Master Moody, sir, to ask him to come to Hogwarts quickly."

"Rubies?" Moody looked suspicious. "I never knew Dumbledore had any interest in gems."

"Oh, sir" Jolly whined. "Not gems, sir. His rubies who lives at Hogwarts, takes care of the grounds and is so kind to house-elves . . ."

"Rubies!" Tonks shrieked. "RUBEUS?? Something has happened to Hagrid??" She stared at Jolly in horror, who nodded sadly.

"Is true, miss" the elf said. "Professor Dumbledore and all the teachers is trying to rescue him and Professor Dumbledore says he needs Master Moody at once, sir." He looked pleadingly at the Auror.

Moody grabbed up his staff. "We'll have to go. Molly, I apologize . . ."

Molly cut him off. "Don't be silly, Alastor. If Hagrid's in trouble and Albus needs you, you must get there right away." She smiled at the pair. "Go help, if you can."

"Right" Moody growled. "Jolly, can you apparate the three of us to Hogwarts?"

"Oh, yes sir. Right away, sir"

"Let's go, then" Moody said decisively. He limped over and held Jolly's right hand; Tonks quickly took the left; with another resounding CRACK, all three vanished.

The Looking Glass Prison

(From "The Adventures of Mad-Eye Moody")

Chapter Three – Old Friends; New Information

It took Tonks a brief moment to shake off the unpleasant effects of apparation, and then she recognized her surroundings.

She, Moody, and Jolly stood in the entrance of the Great Hall of Hogwarts. The vast vaulted ceiling reflected the blue sky of summer afternoon, dotted with fluffy white clouds. The four house tables were exactly as she remembered them, but, she'd never seen the hall decked with the red-and-gold banners of Gryffindor before.

She became aware of a small group sitting huddled at one end of the grand head table. Now, one figure detached itself from the group and came scurrying down the center aisle towards the newcomers.

Tonks saw a short, chubby figure with gray, flyaway hair; pointed hat askew and grimy robes flapping as the woman rapidly closed the distance to them. The round, friendly face and bright eyes of Professor Sprout, Tonks' former head of house, were a welcome sight. Tonks stepped forward to greet her and was astonished when Sprout brushed right past her and threw herself on Moody in a rib-cracking hug.

"Alastor" Professor Sprout cried, burying her face in his chest. "Alastor, thank heavens you came."

Moody returned the hug with equal, one-armed enthusiasm. "Mona" he roared, "it's been far too long!"

Sprout detached herself from Moody's embrace and held him at arms length to drink in the sight. Moody beamed down at her, the gentle grimace that passed for his smile spread across his battered face.

Professor Sprout now stepped over to Tonks and grabbed her in a warm, strong squeeze. "So good of you to come, Tonks" she murmured. "We'll need every sharp mind we can get." Tonks felt better and returned the hug warmly.

Moody at once was all business. "Mona, where's Dumbledore and what's happened to Hagrid?"

Professor Sprout released Tonks and pulled herself together. First, she addressed the house-elf. "Jolly" she said, "thank you for your assistance. You may return to the kitchens and let them know Professor Dumbledore may want a meal for the staff and guests."

Jolly executed a neat bow. "Indeed, Professor. Jolly is always pleased to help." Then, with a resounding CRACK, he was gone.

"Come with me" Sprout told the Aurors. "I can give you the background while I lead you to Albus." She headed out of the Great Hall toward the entrance, Tonks and Moody in tow. She led them to the corridor down to the dungeons, talking as she walked.

"I guess it began over a year ago when Nicholas Flamel, the alchemist, told Albus that he had reason to believe someone was attempting to steal his Philosopher's Stone. There had been several efforts to break into his home and he feared the stone would fall into unscrupulous hands if it remained there. So, Albus agreed to safeguard the stone.

"At first, Albus stored it in a Hogwarts owned vault in Gringotts, but, he was receiving disturbing reports from the goblins and friends in Diagon Alley that made him wary of leaving the stone there. So, last summer, he had the stone brought here to supervise its security personally.

"Albus conceived of an underground chamber to house the stone, safeguarded by a series of magical obstacles supplied by the staff. I myself provided a substantial growth of Devil's Snare. He felt this would keep the stone safe."

Professor Sprout stopped speaking and led them into an unused room off the corridor near where Tonks had attended potions class under Professor Snape. The back wall was pierced by a door designed to resemble the stone work when closed. This door stood ajar and revealed a rough-hewn tunnel behind it.

"Through here" Professor Sprout said, indicating the tunnel. "Albus made this tunnel to the main chamber after the defenses were breached in June."

"Hold it, Mona" Moody growled. "You say the defenses failed. I thought the Potter boy and his friends saved the stone."

"Yes, exactly" Sprout agreed. "The stone has been safely destroyed and Quirrell actually died during the attempted robbery. That's not the problem." So saying, she stepped into the tunnel, igniting her wand with a strong "Lumos!"

"Well, Professor" asked Tonks, hurrying to keep up, "what exactly is the problem?"

"Dumbledore decided he didn't want to leave these safeguards in place. There was no need with the stone gone and he feared some other students might try to match Potter's feat and come to harm. So, with the school empty for the summer, he directed the staff, Filch, and Hagrid to dismantle everything. We've been working all summer on it and were down to the last obstacle today. That's when it happened."

"What happened, Mona?" Moody rumbled gently.

"See for yourselves" she answered. "We've arrived." They stepped through the doorway into bright torchlight and Tonks looked around.

They had just entered through the wall of a chamber resembling a vaulted, Grecian rotunda. To their right, a marble staircase led presumably to the previous challenges. A series of pillars supported the dark, domed ceiling. On the smooth, circular floor in front of them, a group of people were clustered around some large object. She immediately recognized her old professors: tiny, wizened Flitwick who had taught her Charms; dark, greasy Snape the Potions master; tall, strict McGonagall who educated students in Transfiguration; and the tall, silver-haired figure of Headmaster Dumbledore.

Dumbledore strode forward to grasp Moody's hand. "Thank you for coming so quickly, old friend. I fear there's not a moment to spare and, I must confess, I haven't the vaguest notion how to proceed."

Dumbledore paused to grace Tonks with a smile of recognition and welcome, and then pulled Mad-Eye into the midst of the group. Tonks pushed in close and, suddenly, gasped in horror.

The object was a towering mirror, set in a heavily-decorated golden frame and standing on two feet carved to resemble claws. Across the top, in large, prominent letters was carved: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. But, the glass of this particular mirror did not show a reflection of its spectators.

This glass was like a window on another world: a world of billowing, dark gray clouds that boiled like the center of a thunderstorm. In the midst of these clouds was a large, dark, familiar shape. It bobbed about like it was weightless as a child's balloon, buffeted by unseen winds, hands splayed against the glass in an ineffectual attempt to push it open. But, this wasn't what made Tonks gasp.

She had gasped because she had never seen the well-remembered features of Rubeus Hagrid contorted by abject terror.

"Tell me exactly what happened, Filch" Moody snarled at the caretaker.

"Well, it's like I told Professor Dumbledore" replied Argus Filch, the seedy, cantankerous custodian, more politely than was his wont. "Me and Hagrid was carryin' on with clearing out the chambers, as we been doin' all month. Hagrid was to move that mirror as he's the only one can handle it. When he grabbed it, there was this flash of green light, an' a bang, an' there he was, trapped inside. I ran for the Headmaster right quick and don't know no more about the affair."

It was a somber group sitting at the Head Table in the Great Hall, pretending to eat an evening meal, but not really consuming much food. Dumbledore sat in his customary center seat, flanked by McGonagall and Sprout. Moody and Tonks sat to McGonagall's right, while Filch and Madame Pomfrey, the highly capable school nurse, sat beyond Sprout.

Dumbledore had just finished a recitation of the numerous spells and counter-jinxes applied by himself, McGonagall, Snape, and Flitwick to the Mirror of Erised with no appreciable changes. "And we dare not attempt more powerful counter-curses for fear of damaging the mirror irreparably and losing all hope of rescuing Hagrid." Never had Tonks heard such frustration and hopelessness in Dumbledore's voice.

"I hope you or Tonks can provide us with insight into something we poor educators may have over-looked, Alastor" Dumbledore said. "For the first time in my career, I acknowledge myself at a loss on how to proceed."

"Sorry, Albus" Moody rumbled. "This one has me flummoxed as well. It beats anything I've encountered. I know how capable you four are and I can't see what our next step should be."

"Well, Minerva and I will finish our repast and then relieve Filius and Severus so they may dine. Not that I feel much like eating." He smiled a sad smile. "I'm afraid that, short of Devine intervention, we may never rescue Hagrid."

The chilled silence this pronouncement brought to the table lingered like a proclamation of doom. Suddenly, a new voice broke the spell: "Excuse me, Headmaster; I hope I'm not interrupting."

The voice, a dreamy whisper, belonged to Professor Trelawney, the Divination teacher who rarely took part in the social doings of the castle. Now, out of her tower retreat, she glided along the table, peering about her like some enormous insect.

Dumbledore smiled wearily. "Not at all, Sibyll; do join us as we wallow in our frustration. Perhaps your inner eye can provide us with some insight."

Trelawney took the chair next to Tonks, ignoring a snort from McGonagall. It was common knowledge that Professor McGonagall viewed the subject of Divination with considerable contempt.

"That may be the case, Headmaster" Trelawney responded. "I was laying out a most interesting configuration of the Tarot: Strength was overlaid by Death: indicating power being caught in the inescapable. Then, to one side, were the Wheel of Fortune and the Hermit: showing the movement of Fate or Destiny triggered by knowledge coming out of isolation. And, at the apex, the Knight of Wands: obviously a warrior on a quest." She looked significantly at Moody and fell silent.

McGonagall cleared her throat. "Fascinating, Sibyll, but quite irrelevant to the current situation" she said scathingly. "I doubt very much that cards or tea leaves will influence the Mirror of Erised at all."

"Ah, Minerva" Trelawney replied dreamily "you validate my reading without knowing it through your distain of Divination."

Dumbledore looked up sharply. "What do you mean, Sibyll? Did you come out of isolation to share knowledge with us?"

"Not consciously, Headmaster, but, thanks to Minerva's comment, I find I do have knowledge I can share." Trelawney looked surprised that she had the undivided attention of every person at the table.

"It was Minerva's mention of Erised that kindled the thought in me, just now. What I know is what every true scholar of Divination knows: Erised was a person."

"WHAT?" McGonagall had rocketed up out of her chair with this bombshell.

"Yes, Minerva" Trelawney replied calmly, but triumphantly. "We know him as Erised, the Glass master: the maker of the finest crystal balls of all time. Only 10 are known to still exist. I inherited mine from my great-great grandmother, Cassandra. Yes, what Stradivarius is to violins; Erised is to magical glass."

Tonks reached out and touched Trelawney's arm. "Professor, this is extremely important; Hagrid's life may depend on it. Tell us all you can about Erised."

Trelawney looked slightly puzzled. "But, dear, I don't know much more. He was active at the turn of the 17th and 18th centuries. My crystal dates from 1700. He was British, but disappeared." She shook her head and lifted her hands helplessly. "I'm sorry I can't give you more."

Moody stood decisively. "You've given us enough, Sibyll. We can go from here."

"Albus" he said to Dumbledore "keep working on the mirror and don't give up hope. I believe I know where to get more information."

He grabbed his staff, barked "C'mon, Tonks", and stumped swiftly up the center aisle, leaving a stunned group behind him. Tonks hurried to catch up.

"Mad-Eye, what are we going to do?" she panted.

"Get outside the gate, so we can apparate directly there."

"Apparate where?" she practically screamed.

"To the one place where obscure and arcane knowledge are commonplace" he snarled. "The Department of Mysteries!"

The Looking Glass Prison

(From "The Adventures of Mad-Eye Moody")

Chapter Four – A Matter of Time

Moody and Tonks apparated directly into the atrium at the Ministry of Magic. Tonks had long noted that, while Moody talked of most Ministry business with a certain level of contempt, he was never above taking full advantage of the 'Aurors' privileges'. He began stumping directly to the elevator, Tonks trailing behind. This, she had discovered, was another benefit of being Moody's protégé: you never had to wait for the crowd to let you through. Everyone immediately moved aside when they heard the familiar clunk – clunk that heralded Moody's approach.

The group of Ministry workers waiting for the elevator heard Mad-Eye hobbling toward them and suddenly discovered they had urgent errands on that floor to deal with. The only brave soul to enter the elevator with them was Amelia Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and, technically, Moody's boss. Tonks doubted if she ever thought of herself in that light (nobody bossed Moody around and only fools tried), but she did seem to feel respect and not fear for the great Auror.

"Alastor, Tonks; how are you both?" she greeted them. "I thought you were both on break; into something?" Her inquires were always polite, never pushy.

"Running an errand for Dumbledore, Amelia; nothing official; private Hogwarts matter. I'll fill you in after we finish it" was Moody's terse reply.

Madam Bones seemed satisfied with that answer and stepped off as the elevator reached the second level. Pausing on the threshold, she looked back. "By the way, Alastor; Rufus has some new procedural policies he wants to implement. When he discusses them with you, as I requested, please try to leave his office door in one piece this time." She looked at him imploringly.

Moody snorted dismissively. "Typical Scrimgeour, I'll wager; take something simple and complicate the hell out of it, just to look good. No promises, Amelia." She offered a weak smile and a wave as the elevator doors slid closed.

As the duo exited the elevator on the ninth level, Tonks felt awe and reverence usually reserved for great cathedrals or museums. The stories she'd heard about this place from fellow Aurors and friends in other offices filled her with wonder and dread. Here, in the Department of Mysteries, the most astounding types of magical research went on daily. No one knew for certain what actually occurred, but the rumors were of feats of wizardry both overwhelming and dangerous.

Moody seemed oblivious to the grandeur of the place. He shambled along the corridor unceremoniously and, arriving at the entrance, wrapped on the black door with his staff.

After several moments, the door opened halfway and a tall, sallow-faced wizard in flowing black robes intoned "Yes?" in a sepulcher-like baritone.

"We're here to see the chief, Bode" Moody snarled, having no patience with formal procedure.

Bode blinked at them for a moment, then replied "Will you please follow me and touch nothing?"

Tonks followed Moody thru the black door, and then stared in amazement at the entrance chamber. It was a circular room with a vaulted ceiling and a highly polished floor that looked almost like standing water. Regularly spaced about the walls were twelve doors that had no handles. Bode stood to one side, nervously making scrubbing motions with his hands. As the door behind her silently swung shut, Bode stepped to another, saying over his shoulder "This way, please. Remember, touch nothing."

Moody snarled "We heard you the first time, yeh ray of sunshine. Lead on; then you can go back to hauntin' houses."

Bode led them silently into the next chamber. This long, rectangular room was filled with beautiful, dancing lights that sparkled like gems. All kinds of time-related devices filled the chamber including clocks of every description. It also contained a large crystal bell jar at its far end, from which the sparking light emanated. There were small offices just off the main chamber. Bode headed for the first of these, the Aurors at his heels.

They were ushered unceremoniously into the office and Tonks goggled in amazement. The office of the chief was the most astonishing collection of clutter and general disorder she had ever encountered in her life. Shelves were filled to overflowing with stained parchments; books were stacked haphazardly in every nook; dusty clocks and calendars hung crookedly in no recognizable system on the wall; a bomb going off in the middle of a tornado could not have created more chaos within the little room.

Tonks wished for a Muggle camera at this very moment: a picture of this office would be of inestimable value the next time her mother chose to berate her on the lack of order in her bedroom.

Dominating the available space was an ancient, faded, heavily-littered roll top desk with a matching wheeled, wooden chair. The chair's occupant was equally out of the ordinary, but seemed perfectly suited to his surroundings. He was a rotund, cherubic-looking little wizard dressed in rumpled gold robes. As he turned to face his visitors, Tonks distinguished a bald head fringed with white hair, a smiling mouth framed by chubby cheeks, a wide nose, and an endearing double chin. His eyes, surrounded by round, wire spectacles of tarnished silver, were his predominant feature: blue, sparkling, and slightly roguish.

Spotting his guests, he let out a delighted peal of laughter and vaulted out of his chair, hand extended. "Alastor" he crowed in a trilling, raspy tenor that was tinged with the faintest trace of Irish brogue. "It's been far too long, old fellow." He seized Moody's hand in both of his and wrung it vigorously.

Moody accepted the fellow's greeting calmly. "Augie, it's grand to see you again." Maintaining their grip, both turned their eyes to Tonks. "Augie, may I present Nymphadora Tonks, my current apprentice. Tonks, this is Professor Thurgood Augustine" Moody rumbled.

Tonks reflexively winced at the sound of her given name, an action not lost on this new acquaintance. Turning to her, he clasped her hand in both of his and beamed at her. "Ah, my dear, I see that, like myself, you suffer from being christened by parents significantly lacking in foresight." He chuckled warmly and continued holding her hand. "Indeed, I can't begin to tell you the number of hours I've spent researching for any significant historical figures who bore, with pride, the name of Thurgood." He gave a mock shudder, and then smiled at her once more. "Other than a noteworthy American barrister, all inquires have been completely fruitless." He again voiced his affectionate, quiet laughter and Tonks was aware of her lips curling into a broad grin. She felt instantly drawn to this quiet, rascally old man who seemed equal parts amused and amusing.

Patting Tonks' hand affectionately, Augie turned again to Moody. "Still, Alastor, I presume this visit is not solely so this charming young woman and I could commiserate over our unfortunate nomenclature. What brings you to my sanctum?"

Moody grunted in agreement. "Aye, Augie. We're facing a dilemma that needs your expert opinion."

"How delightful" Augie chortled. "I can't wait to hear the details." Keeping a firm, but gentle grip on Tonks, he led them to his cluttered desk. Letting go one hand, he pulled out a wand and waved stacks of documents onto the floor to clear two matching wooden chairs that slid into position facing his. He gallantly bowed Tonks into one, waved Moody into its mate and sat in his chair, swiveling to face them. "Tell me all about it."

Moody reported the situation in short, terse words, appropriate for a police report. Augie listened with rapt attention; appearing intrigued and bemused at the same time. He asked no questions, but his expressive eyes lit up with pure elation. Tonks kept grinning; she was totally captivated by this little man who seemed to take joy from everything.

As Moody concluded his narrative, Augie chuckled quietly, and then addressed them both. "Well, Alastor, I feel the answer to your predicament seems patently obvious.

You should go directly to the source; seek out the wizard Erised." He clapped his hands decisively and beamed at them.

For the first time, Tonks found her voice. "But, Professor" she spoke with just a touch of exasperation. "Erised died over 200 years ago. It would be useless to seek him, except with the help of a medium."

Augie grinned, as though enjoying some inner joke. "Not quite, my dear. It would be useless to seek him in this era, but . . ." he leaned forward, conspiratorially and whispered "not in his own."

Tonks sat still, confused by Augie's words. Then, their meaning dawned on her and she sat upright in stunned amazement. "You mean" she gasped. "You mean, go back in time and find him??"

Augie threw back his head in a jolly laugh. "Oh, Moody, I like this girl! She put it together so quickly" He rubbed his hands and grinned approval at Tonks. "I mean that precisely, my dear Tonks. Back in time."

Tonks looked incredulously at Moody, but her mentor seemed perfectly serene in light of the mad turn the conversation had taken. She reached over and punched his shoulder in frustration. "Mad-Eye, you know this is mental. Tell him."

Moody growled in annoyance "Not as mental as you might think, Dora. After all, we're talking with the man who invented the time-turner."

The Looking Glass Prison

(From "The Adventures of Mad-Eye Moody")

Chapter Five – The Past is No Bar

Tonks gaped in astonishment at Augie. Unbelievable!! Could this plump, comical little man really be that adept a wizard? "But . . . but" she stammered. "Time-turners are for only local and limited use."

"Exactly, my dear" Augie said soothingly, forgiveness for her doubts written across his face. "The average witch or wizard has a limited appreciation for the power time control exercises. They fail to properly understand the pitfalls that exist. So, their use of that power is severely limited. Here, in the Department of Mysteries, we have delved deeper and more meaningfully into the magic of time than anywhere in the wizarding world."

Tonks was staggered. "You're serious, then?" She continued to stare at the two older men in disbelief. "You're proposing a trip of more than two hundred years back in time and across an ocean to find a wizard who may or may not grant our request for aid?"

"An admirably succinct summary of the plan, child" Augie was nodding with approval. "However, I think we can be a bit more precise in our preparations." He turned to his desk and prodded a black box sitting in one cubby-hole with the end of his wand. "Alys, my dear, could you bring me the historical particulars on the career of the wizard Erised. At your convenience, no hurry, there's a good lass." He spoke at the box, ending his request with a laugh. He turned back to the Aurors with a grin. "Alys is my top research assistant. She's a first-class examiner of historical records, but a bit of a stick-in-the-mud." He leaned over and whispered to Tonks "Between you and me, I think she could do with a bit of male companionship in a private moment." Augie winked conspiratorially and Tonks had to cover her mouth with both hands to stifle a giggle.

"Now" he spoke more professionally, rising to his feet. "While we wait on Alys, I'll bring you up to speed on the basics, Tonks. Just to reassure you that I know what I'm about." He smiled his warm smile again, taking the sting out of his words. She nodded and sat up straight, feeling like a schoolgirl again.

"To begin" Augie intoned "You need to think about all of reality as existing in four dimensions." Tonks immediately looked quizzical and Augie chuckled. "All physical objects have height, width, depth, and . . ." he paused for effect "duration." He waited for her nod, and then continued.

"Now, we in the wizarding community have had success over the years using magic to manipulate these dimensions. I assume you are familiar with the spells Engorgio and Reducio and you've already shown your knowledge of the time-turner." Tonks continued to nod and Augie continued to lecture. "Well, the time-turner simply adjusts the effects of duration on its wearer, allowing them to take a step back, as it were, along the time continuum, and reuse those few hours in a beneficial manner.

Here in the Department, I've developed devices which can magnify this adjustment, allowing the user to take, not a step back, but a major leap back, for a limited amount of time." He paused, as though awaiting applause then proceeded.

"So, once Alys brings me the relevant data, after a few calculations, I simply program the settings into one of my devices, activate it, and you and Moody will be whisked back to the preset era with 12 hours to complete your mission." Again, he clasped his hands and beamed at his audience.

"Hold on a moment, Professor" Tonks spoke up. "I can already see a flaw in your plan. If we go back to the time of Erised for only 12 hours, we'll never succeed. It will take more time than that to simply trace and travel to Erised's location."

Augie chuckled again, as though expecting this particular argument. "Ah, but you see, my dear Tonks, my device will not only transport you both in time, but space as well. You'll be deposited in Erised's time and position, and then returned here to your starting point."

Tonks gawked in astonishment. "How can a device that manipulates time transport us through space as well?"

"But, you see, dear . . ." Augie commenced, and then broke off with "Ah, thank you, Alys, this will do nicely." He stepped between Tonks and Moody and accepted a

parchment from a tall, skinny, middle-aged witch with horn-rimmed glasses, dark hair tied back in a severe bun, and an expression like her tea had been spiked with excessive lemon juice. She nodded sharply, eyed the Aurors suspiciously, and left the office without speaking a word.

Augie unrolled the sheet and turned to his desk, chuckling and shaking his head. "Dear old Alys" he muttered, none too softly. "We simply must find you a boyfriend."

Augustine perused the parchment momentarily, muttering and humming to himself. He laid it out on the desk and placed a fresh, blank sheet next to it. Pulling open a lower drawer, he began rummaging through its contents, casually discarding some items on the floor. "Ah, so that's where you got off to, pet" he exclaimed as he pulled a strange device from the depths, stuck it casually in a pocket, and returned to his search.

"Aha, I've found it" he exclaimed as he produced a battered, gray ostrich quill. He laid the quill on his blank sheet and gave it a sharp rap with his wand. The plume immediately leaped into action, scribbling furiously.

Stowing his wand, Augie turned back to Tonks. "There, we'll have the necessary coordinates shortly." He clapped his hands in glee and sat back. "Now, where were we? Oh, yes; how a time device can influence space as well." He chuckled again and resumed his lecturing stance and tone.

"We have several means at our disposal to navigate distances. As an Auror, you've experienced apparation, Floo powder, and portkeys, correct?" Again, Tonks nodded agreement.

"Now, gravity is the weak form of magical energy that holds us in our current location. It can be readily negated through certain spells, such as Wingardium Leviosa or the processof apparation. So, when we apparate, we in effect nullify that energy and change our physical location instantaneously."

"So, let us analyze both apparation and time-turners. With apparation, we move ourselves through space and remain static in time. With the time-turner, we move ourselves through time and remain static in space. With the device I propose using . . ."

He trailed off and looked at Tonks, expectantly.

"We'll move through both" she squealed. "We'll negate the influence of the time continuum to go into the past and use the power of apparation to arrive at our destination." She looked at Moody in triumph and got a gruff nod of approval.

"Almost, Tonks; you'll actually travel via the spells that power the portkey. The coordinates have to be managed precisely, so you'll, in effect, leave the driving to me." Augie laughed again.

"So" Tonks ventured "You place us in the time and place necessary to find and interrogate Erised." She paused, looked at Augie for permission, and continued. "But, since you control where we enter and exit the time continuum at both ends of our journey, while we experience 12 hours of time, we may not necessarily have spent 12 hours of current time." She felt this was a very tentative leap of reasoning on her part, but Augie continued to nod and smile encouragingly. "So, with your control of time and space programmed into the device, we'll leave here, conduct our mission, and arrive at, say, the gates of Hogwarts one minute after we've left; with the necessary information to save Hagrid."

Augie was practically dancing with joy. "Exactly, child, exactly! Ah, if only I'd gotten to you before the Aurors. You have the makings of a magnificent Unspeakable." He shook his head wearily. "It took Fudge forever to grasp this concept."

At that instant, the ostrich quill ceased its scratching and Augie picked up the parchment and reviewed it. "Yes, seems straightforward enough" He grinned at the Aurors.

"Our information on Erised is mostly incomplete, owing to the unreliable methods of recording facts in his era and the reclusive nature of the wizard in question. We know he was English, we know he bequeathed the mirror under discussion to Hogwarts while in England, and then disappeared. We know that many of his creations came to his native country on merchant ships from the New World in the late 17th century. We can surmise that his disappearance coincided with his voyage across the Atlantic.

We do not, however, know where in the Americas he made his center of operations. Our last reliable report places Erised, in the summer of 1697, on the island of Tortuga. This, then, is the starting point to which I propose to send you."

"Lady and gentleman" he laughed. "Please prepare yourselves for departure." And with a hearty cackle, he led the way out of the office.

Augie stepped into the main chamber of the subdivision and led the Aurors down the passageway to the last office. Inside the darkened room, Tonks saw several tables covered with scattered parchments. She assumed this was some general work space; available to all Unspeakables, but there was more. Inset in the wall was a large, gray, wooden door secured with black iron bands about 4 inches wide. The hinges, door pull, and bolt heads were all shiny, reflective black. Tonks privately thought this must be what the door to Hell looks like.

The little wizard walked up to the door, wrapped it sharply with his wand and said "Chronos!" The great door immediately gave off the sound of numerous bolts being undone from behind it and slowly swung open.

Behind the door was a dimly lit room about 10' x 10' with a gloomy ceiling and non-reflective black walls. Standing against the back wall was the only visible feature: a square-cut, gray stone that looked suspiciously like a three-foot high altar. Occupying the top of the altar was a large, black hourglass, about the size of a fire hydrant. At top and bottom, the ebony apparatus was carved with runes, the two glass globes had astrological signs etched in the glass, and a thin stream of silver sand fell continuously. As Tonks studied the device, she saw no apparent reduction in the amount of sand in the top sphere; an interesting illusion. She also noted that this room was cold as a crypt.

Augie calmly strode straight up to this menacing-looking mechanism, crooning softly to the object as though it were a well-loved pet and giving it a quick polish with a rag from his pocket. Drawing his wand, he proceeded to gently tap the carved runes here and there in a calculated manner. Stepping back, he said "All ready; place yourselves within the radius of the ambiance", indicating a silver semi-circle drawn around the altar on the black floor.

Moody stepped forward into the arc and stood facing Augustine to the left of the device. Tonks, just a bit hesitantly, assumed a position to the right. Augie looked from one to the other, affectionately, and said "You know, I genuinely envy both of you." Then, checking that he stood well clear of the silver curve, he raised his wand and, with a commanding voice Tonks wouldn't have thought him capable of, boomed, "The past is no bar for the brave." A bolt of red energy streaked from his wand, passed between them, and struck the waiting instrument behind them.

Tonks was aware of silver light suddenly emanating from behind them and slowly beginning to pulse: bright, dim; bright, dim. In rhythm with the pulse was a low, bass thrumming sound (similar to the deepest note of a massive pipe organ) accompanied by a powerful vibration that she felt through her entire body. It was like standing next to a huge diesel engine revving up to full power (or, she thought with a shiver, some enormous, beating heart).

Brighter and faster grew the pulses of light; stronger and stronger grew the vibrations; louder and louder the bass thrumming. Now, the silver light began to spin around her and Mad-Eye; slowly at first, then accelerating, beginning to blur the outlines of Augie and the lighted silhouette of the door they had entered.

Tonks felt as if she was standing inside the base of a windless, silver tornado. Faster, louder, stronger; faster, louder, stronger; the magic maelstrom was building toward some unknown crescendo, carrying the two Aurors with it.

Suddenly, with a monstrous clap of thunder, the world she knew vanished.

The Looking Glass Prison

(From "The Adventures of Mad-Eye Moody")

Chapter Six – Buccaneers' Brawl

Tonks staggered and went down on one knee. She flung out her right hand to steady herself and felt it splash in a cold, slimy puddle. She was aware that Moody's hand was grasping her left arm, that they were surrounded by pitch darkness, and somewhere ahead of them, she could hear noises that sounded like some type of armed uprising.

Moody pulled her to her feet and, as her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she looked around in wonder. They were standing in a darkened alley between two faded, slab-sided wooden buildings. The dirt path leading through the alley was rutted from countless wagon wheels. Stacks of wooden barrels shielded them from the street and the noise-makers ahead of them. Piles of folded, foul canvas added a distinctly unhealthy aroma to their environs. The black overhead was dotted by numerous stars and the wind blowing up from behind them carried a definite tang of salt.

Tonks started around the barrels, but Moody pulled her up short. "Not without cover" he grumbled and tapped the top of her head with his wand. She felt the recognizable cold trickle of Disillusionment spreading from head to foot. Moody tapped himself and immediately faded into the background of the building. "All right" she heard his familiar growl "Let's take a look."

Tonks eased around the barrels, alert for any activity in the mouth of the alley, but saw nothing. Listening to Moody's stumping behind her, she creeped to the end of the alley and looked into the street. What she saw nearly floored her again.

The broad main street was unpaved dirt as was the side street that faced their alley. Two-story clapboard buildings, like those in cowboy towns she'd seen in the cinema, lined both sides of the street in uneven rows. Each side of the street boasted a wooden, boardwalk-style walkway and most buildings supported a wooden balcony with railings. Light came from hung, glass lanterns; mounted torches; a few open bonfires in the streets; and one single-story building halfway down the street that was belching forth flames from both windows and door. Tonks had recognized a blacksmith/stable and the burning building seemed a general store. But, she realized, most establishments on this street were taverns.

But the scenery was decidedly secondary to the antics of the inhabitants.

They were looking on a scene that seemed equal parts Mardi Gras and full-scale riot. Tonks counted five fistfights, two duels with swords, and one woman who was beating a sailor with a boat oar. Twice, she saw tall, heavy-set sailors stalking into the dark with a woman draped over their shoulder. Pistols were fired into the air at regular intervals, there were numerous public drinking contests, and, once, a horse-drawn wagon thundered down the street with what looked like a man dragging along behind it on a rope.

On the balconies, above the taverns, women of every age, race, and shape, mostly dressed in low-cut, pastel gowns or various frilly undergarments, were leaning over the rails, shouting coarse suggestions at the passersby. Tonks assumed that the top stories of the taverns housed the town's second-most profitable industry. This whole settlement appeared to be an amusement park for the criminally insane.

Unable to control her awe, Tonks whispered "He did it! We're really here"

"Aye" she heard Moody rumble to her left, "in his areas of expertise, Augie's the most able wizard I know, this side of Dumbledore."

"What, exactly, are we looking for, Mad-Eye?" she inquired.

"Target of opportunity" he murmured. "And, I think, its coming our way."

Down the wooden walkway to their left staggered a pair of drunken sailors; one tall; the other short. They were bellowing some rude sea chantey at the top of their lungs, pausing now and then to pass a bottle between them and consume some of its contents.

They had reached the mouth of the alley (and some lyric about the tavern maid's bloomers), when she heard Moody softly bark "Stupefy!" The pair dropped like they'd been pole axed and she heard Moody rumble "Back in the alley." She grabbed the smaller man by the collar and dragged him back behind the barrels, his mate sliding along after him.

Two minutes, and several Geminio spells later, the Aurors were completely transformed. They had dropped their disillusionment and were clad according to local convention. Tonks had wrapped her head in a crimson bandana, changed her hair to a short-cut mop of dirty blonde, and Metamorphed her right ear to accommodate a large, brass hoop. She had transfigured her skirt into canvas breeches, belted it with a bright green sash, and strapped a weathered cutlass to her hip.

Moody looked even more the part; he had transfigured his wooden leg into a stout peg made of ivory born up by an iron ferrule; he wore a cutlass and brace of flintlock pistols in a wide, leather belt; atop his head was a battered, cocked hat; and, amusingly, he had conjured a black eye patch to cover his magic eye. He handed her one of the fat money pouches he had duplicated from the unconscious duo at their feet, covered the pair with a particularly smelly piece of canvas, and then asked "Well, Tonks; what do you think?"

Tonks shook her head in an amused fashion. "I think, we should forget the mission and go Trick-or-Treating instead" she chuckled. "You'd win first prize, I'll wager."

"I still wish you'd add a couple of scars to your face" he grumbled.

"I told you, Moody; I might need to do a bit of flirting to get menfolk to talk. I can't do that if I look a beast" she said, defiantly.

"Suit yourself" he surrendered the argument. "Just bear in mind two things: one; we can't use obvious magic unless one of us is about to be murdered. Two; this is a town filled with cutthroats, thieves, and vandals. Women are in this town for only one purpose" he glanced at her significantly with his uncovered eye "and it's not to do the laundry!"

He turned to survey the entrance to the alley once more and Tonks used the opportunity to cross her eyes and stick out her tongue at his broad back.

"Come on" Moody growled, as he started stalking toward the street. "And, I saw that." Tonks, annoyed, followed.

Numerous hours, and one depleted money pouch, later, they had completed their circuit of the near side of the main street and had reached the last tavern on the far side. Tired and discouraged, they halted beneath a lit hurricane lantern and compared notes.

"Seems to me" Moody rumbled, "This whole town follows that philosophy about loose lips."

Tonks started to nod, and then stopped herself to maintain her balance. She had, as Moody had predicted, been the target of so many unseemly propositions that she felt she could now stroll past every construction site in London without batting an eye. But, the worst had been the endless jacks of ale! She'd used to enjoy an occasional stout; now, she hoped she'd never see it again.

"Moody, we can't go on like this" she struggled to keep from slurring. "I can barely stand straight."

"You've still got a few things to learn, Dora" Moody chuckled. "Look here." He held out his left hand, palm up. The tip of his wand lay across his palm; the bulk of it was apparently shoved up his sleeve. "Just tap the side of the mug and whisper 'Temperantia' and it turns into weak tea."

"Mad-Eye, you bastard!" she shrieked. "You've deliberately been letting me get swoggled!"

"You could have asked" he laughed. "Here, this should help." He put his left hand on her head, murmured "Siccus Sursum", and, suddenly, her head was completely clear. In fact, except for a slight discomfort of the bladder, she felt as if she hadn't had a drop all night.

"Stick your wand up your sleeve, Tonks" Moody growled. "We've wasted enough time prospecting for information Muggle-style. We need an edge."

Wands concealed, they headed for the doors of this new target. It was a rundown looking place, with swinging doors and grimy windows. A battered sign, hanging from rusty chains and depicting a large seabird with an enormous beak and dripping, bloody sockets where its eyes should have been, declared they were about to frequent The Blind Pelican.

The interior did nothing to improve their first impression. The lighting was from a half-dozen lamps with cracked, sooty chimneys; pipe smoke hung lazily in the air; half the tables were empty, several held one patron, only one table was fully occupied, by a group of sailors attired in a distinctly eastern fashion. Two sullen-looking waitresses lounged against the bar gossiping and, as they approached the bar, Tonks saw the bartender was a morose-looking brute with close-cropped yellow hair and a face resembling a clenched fist.

"Two jacks of ale" Moody ordered and slapped a handful of coins on the bar. As the man set two leather mugs in front of him and began counting money into his hand, Moody leaned forward and growled "I'm looking for an old shipmate. Where might a fellow find out what's what in this town?"

As the bartender looked up with an angry expression, Moody waved his left hand slightly and muttered "Legilimens." Instantly, the man froze; his eyes went blank and a puzzled expression spread across his face. Moody stared at him for several seconds and then turned aside.

The bartender shook his head, looked around in a bewildered fashion and then returned to counting the coins.

"That the one that likes to talk?" Moody growled casually, indicating a corner table with his thumb. "The one they call 'Windy Willie'?"

The bartender nodded; a look of disgust on his features. "Aye, that's him, the useless old sot. Talk nonsense all night for a shot o' rum, he will."

"Bottle of your best rum and one glass" Moody rumbled, dumping more coins on the bar. The bartender shrugged and bent under the bar to retrieve the requested order. He swept the coins off in a practiced manner and turned away.

Picking up bottle and glass, Moody said "Bring the ale, Dora. And don't forget the magic word." With a wink, he headed for the corner.

They sauntered over to the table, ignoring the looks from the tavern's other clientele. The object of their inquiry was seated by himself, head down on folded arms, muttering under his breath. His head jerked up sharply when Moody plunked the bottle down in the center of the table. Tonks casually appraised him.

He was dressed as a sailor, like all the men in town, but, he was decidedly shabbier than most. She put his age at mid-50s, but, he gave the air of having been used hard in those years. He was a short, pudgy little man; a few wisps of gray hair on a bald head; fat cheeks that seemed piggish instead of chubby; and his watery brown eyes had trouble focusing. "If this is our only hope" Tonks thought "Poor Hagrid is doomed."

"Hello, Willie" Mad-Eye boomed. "What would you say to a bit of rum?"

"Well, Ah'd say 'Where yeh been all night, darlin'?'" the little man slurred out of the side of his mouth. Still, his eyes definitely looked more alert.

Moody silently poured a glassful and pushed it across the table. Willie rubbed his hands with glee, hoisted the glass with a "To yer 'ealth", and took a long pull. He set it back down with a lip-smacking "Ah!", but, retained his grip around the tumbler.

"Been at sea long, Willie?" Moody inquired softly, as he and Tonks took seats across from the little tosspot.

"Long enuff, mate" Willie responded happily. "Seaman Billy Christian, at yer service; forty two years before the mast, man and boy" he crowed joyfully. He leaned forward and whispered "Coulda been a mate, twenty year gone, but see, Ah drinks a bit."

He sat back and took another taste of the rum.

"Made the crossing from England, I suppose" was Moody's next input.

"To and from more times than Ah got 'airs on me 'ead" was the cheerful reply. "Seen 'em all come 'n go! Brits, French (Ah don' care fer them much), Spanish, Portagee, Eyetalians . . ." Willie addressed himself to his glass again and Moody pressed on.

"Chap we're looking for is a Brit. Crossed over and stayed here in Tortuga a while."

"Yah, this 'ere place draws all kines, don' it?" Willie agreed, draining his drink.

"This particular fellow would have been interested in glass"

"Glass . . . glass?" Willie looked momentarily confused, then said "Don' mind if Ah do" and pushed his empty schooner toward Moody. Moody glumly poured him another drink and Willie took another taste.

Willie brought down the tumbler with an ear-splitting belch and began ruminating aloud. "Glass; wha's that put me in mind of? Oh yeah! Little chap from London; made passage a while back on the good ol' Queen Anne. Fella would talk glass day and night. Obsessed with it, he was."

Willie took another taste and Tonks, feeling excited energy, took a stab: "Willie, did this little chap have a strange name?"

The little drunk brought down his beverage and twisted his face in Tonks' direction. "Pardon, miss; don' know where yer from, but, Ah never knew nothin' strange 'bout the name Fowler."

Tonks sat back, deflated, and barely caught Willie's next words. "Nice little chap, he were; quiet-like and polite." Another belt. "Clever bloke, though. Dint 'ave no money for passage, but, 'e made the cap'n the most marvelous spyglass."

Willie emptied the tumbler and Moody poured another libation. "Tell us about the spyglass." he snarled quietly.

Willie attacked this fresh drink, first. "Well, Ah never seed the like! Night, rain, fog, cloudy; made no difference; look through it and it were like lookin' on a bright sunny day! Ol' Cap'n Roberts was right capped with it." Another taste, then "Ah tell yeh, it was like magic."

Tonks sat bolt upright at this pronouncement when, suddenly, Moody shot out his left hand, caught her around the waist and heaved her out of her chair and onto his left knee.

Tonks let out a startled squawk and said "Moody, what the hell . . ."

"Company; those Arab sailors have been eying you since we arrived" Moody growled. "Looks like one of the boys is drunk enough to make his move; this might discourage him. Just play along 'til we can get out of here."

Tonks underwent an instantaneous transformation. She leaned into Moody, looking at him through half-lidded eyes; there was a lecherous grin on her face. She began running her right hand through his hair while her left caressed his chin and jaw. She voiced a deep-throated chuckle, brought her lips up to his left ear, and said, in a husky whisper "If you dare tell anyone back home about this, I'll . . ."

The Biblical magnitude of her planned vengeance went unvoiced as she sensed a presence behind her left shoulder. She glanced backwards, and then up.

Hagrid was the biggest man Tonks had ever seen, but, this man was a contender for second spot. He stood about 6'4" and was stupendously fat. He was dressed in blue silk pantaloons, a short red vest, open-toe sandals, and had a wide yellow sash that barely contained his enormous belly, but, managed to support two ornate daggers and a large scimitar. There were great rolls of excess blubber on his sides and the back of his bull neck. His thighs were the size of small tree trunks, his chest was a barrel, and he had deep-set, piggy eyes. A shaven pate and two drooping mustaches completed his ensemble.

He was obviously deep into his cups; he stood there swaying slightly, he smelled like a brewery, and his eyes went in and out of focus. Willie piped up "Oy, Omar. Set yerself down and 'ave a drink wit' us."

Omar studiously ignored Willie and Moody; his attention was focused completely on Tonks. "Say now, little flower" his voice soft and oily "why don't you come have a drink with me and leave these two old bilge rats to themselves."

Tonks shot a quick "Not interested" over her left shoulder and turned back to her companions. A heartbeat later, she felt something large and heavy fall on her shoulder.

"I guess you didn't hear me, chicken, so I'll be plain. I'm Captain Omar of the Star of Baghdad and I want you to have a drink with me and my crew" his fat fingers began to massage her shoulder "and maybe a bit more. We'll show you a better time than that ugly old barnacle you're sitting on."

Tonks turned her head again. "I guess you didn't hear me, fatso, so I'll be plain: Piss off!!"

Several things happened simultaneously with Tonks' declaration: Omar bellowed in anger, pulled Tonks to her feet, and clawed for a dagger; Omar's mates stood up, hands on hilts; Tonks gave a cry of outrage and pulled her shoulder from Omar's grip . . . And the 'old barnacle' moved.

Moody shot out of his chair as though he were spring-loaded. As he rose, he swept his right fist up from the floor in a tremendous uppercut. The punch caught Omar square under the jaw with a meaty smack, like a wooden mallet powered into a side of beef. Omar's head snapped back violently, his arms flew akimbo, and he sailed backward a good two feet to land flat on his back on the dirty, beer-soaked floor.

His reinforcements halted in their tracks, staring in turns at their collapsed champion and at the grim figure standing over him. After a muttered conference, three of the bravos laid hands on the fallen giant and began dragging him toward the door. The last, seeming too drunk to take a hint, advanced slowly on Moody with his scimitar drawn.

Moody shook his left hand, reached for his cutlass and drew. "Mad-Eye, you can't fight him with swords" Tonks hurriedly whispered.

Moody kept watching his adversary and spoke out of the side of his mouth. "The sword's just for show. I've got my wand in my hand. When this starts, shove Willie out of here. Head for the alley we arrived in. I'll cover the retreat and meet you there. Get ready."

The Arab aimed a violent cut at Moody's head. As Moody swung his cutlass up to parry the blow, Tonks heard him murmur "Petrificus Totalus." At the clash of blades, the Arab fell over backward as though overpowered. "Go, Tonks!" Moody roared.

As Tonks hustled Willie towards the door, Moody spun his sword (and wand) around his head and bellowed "Chaos Septrum." Total bedlam immediately broke out in the Blind Pelican. All twenty patrons and the three employees were at each others throats. Tables were overturned and chairs flew through the air. There were duels with swords, broken bottles, and fists; flintlocks roared; the bartender was laying about the crowd with a long-handled bung starter while the waitresses used beer trays.

Moody slowly sidled his way to the door. Twice, drunks with swords barred his way, but two quick Body-Bind Curses cleared his path. He ducked one body that flew through a front window, and then stepped out into the street. He stumped quickly across the street to the alley way, and then halted at the entrance, taking in the spectacle that met his gaze.

Evidently, Tonks' erstwhile admirers had seen her enter the alley and decided on another go. Omar was on the ground again, this time face down in a very noxious puddle. His three attendants were sprawled in various, uncomfortable-looking poses. Tonks was standing over them, legs braced in a classic attack pose. There was a faint wisp of smoke spiraling up from the end of her wand.

She turned at the sound of Moody's approach, glanced at her wand, and then said, guiltily, "Well . . . I thought I was about to be murdered."

Moody surveyed the fallen pirates, shrugged noncommittally, and limped past them without a word. Tonks planted the toe of her boot stealthy in Omar's ribs and followed.

Windy Willie was seated on the dirt, propped against a barrel, gloriously snoring. Moody and Tonks squatted down in front of him, and then Tonks pointed her wand and said "Ennervate." Willie's eyes snapped open, but, it took him a moment to recognize his companions.

"Willie" Moody rumbled, "Where is this Fowler chap?"

"Gone, 'e is. Gone for good."

"Did he take passage on a ship?"

"Nay, mate. He were shanghaied, took right out o' the Pelican not a fortnight gone."

Tonks put in, hopefully "Could he have escaped?"

Willie actually laughed. "Nay, missy, he's either dead or captive. Yeh don't just walk away from Scarlet Jack Douglas."

Moody looked intense. "You're sure it was Douglas?"

"Seed 'im with me own eyes. The ol' devil supervised the kidnap 'isself."

Moody paused thoughtfully, then asked "Has Douglas put out to sea, Willie?"

Willie shook his head "Naw, I'd a' 'eard if the Dark Wind 'ad set sail. They's still in port."

Moody stood and threw the remaining money pouch in Willie's lap. "Thanks for your help, Willie. You may have saved a man's life tonight. Drink hearty. Come on, Tonks."

Tonks stood next to Moody, who took her arm. "Come side of me, I know where we're going."

Tonks shook her head ruefully at Willie. "We can't apparate in front of him, Mad-Eye."

Moody grunted "Who's going to believe him, Dora?" The two Aurors turned sideways on the spot and disappeared.

The Looking Glass Prison

(From "The Adventures of Mad-Eye Moody")

Chapter Seven – The Isle of Shadows

Gulls and terns, settled down for the night on nests that dotted the crags of the sandstone cliff, exploded into the air, screaming raucous indignation as two figures appeared on the sandy strip of flat beach running along the base of the precipice.

Tonks took a quick scan of their surroundings. They stood on a white sand beach facing the base of a towering sea cliff. To their backs was the sprawling vastness of the sea. She could barely make out the top of the crag in the dark, but, thought she saw indications of overgrowth and trees. The beach was littered sporadically with weathered clumps of rocks and bits of driftwood. The only sounds were the screaming of the sea birds, protesting their invasion and the rhythmic, relentless wash of the waves.

Moody was studying the top of the cliff in a contemplative manner.

"So, where are we, Mad-Eye" Tonks inquired, knowing she could interrupt without disrupting his calculations.

"Isla de Sombres; the Isle of Shadows" Moody muttered, not breaking his study of the terrain. "Home port of Scarlet Jack Douglas, Scourge of the Caribbean; captain of the frigate Dark Wind and the only known wizard-pirate in this era." He dropped his gaze on Tonks. "He has a stronghold on the high ground of this island, fully equipped with dungeons."

"How do you know all this?" she asked, interestedly.

"I've been here before" he replied offhandedly, "a story for another time. Now, we need to get up, over, and inside."

"So, it's to be breaking-and-entering" she stated matter-of-factly. At his nod, she added "Er . . . um . . . I'll need a moment, Moody. Too much ale and all that."

Again, he gave a curt nod. "There's a convenient clump of big rocks just round to the south" he pointed. "I'll prepare for the ascent." Tonks scurried off in the indicated direction.

As Tonks hurried back, putting herself in order, she found Moody had also dropped his pirate paraphernalia and had conjured a long coil of thick climbing rope with an iron grapnel on one end.

"All set?" he growled, and at her thumb's up, pointed his wand and muttered "Wingardium Leviosa." The grapnel began to slowly wend its way up the side of the cliff and out of sight over the edge. Moody lowered his wand and gave the rope a hard tug.

"All secure" he grunted "time to disillusion." He tapped his head, then Tonks', then levitated his staff to the top of the bluff. "You first, Dora; you're faster than me with two good legs."

He steadied the rope and Tonks grabbed hold and began to climb. She was privately amused; it was so typical of Moody, thinking utility instead of appearance when he tells her she has good legs.

Tonks swarmed swiftly up the side of the cliff; arms and legs working together exactly as taught at the Auror Academy. Her only deviation was a tip she'd picked up from Mad-Eye: she carried her wand clenched in her teeth. It wouldn't do to be attacked on the rope and be groping in your robes for your wand.

Tonks reached the top and stood guard on the grapnel while Moody scrambled up, using arm strength she envied; still incredibly agile despite his age and handicap.

Try as she would, Tonks was unable to see through the Stygian darkness. "What's the set-up?" she whispered to her tutor, relying as she had many times on the magic eye. "How do we go from here?"

"In 300 years, there'll be a graveyard on this spot. This is where we camped last time I was here. The wall of the keep is straight ahead about 100 yards off. The walls are 12 feet high all around, but, we're not going over them. They have a sentry posted on this parapet, but, he doesn't look too keen for the job. Soon as he turns his back, we go straight to the wall." Moody was silent for several seconds; Tonks gathered herself for the sprint. "Now!"

Tonks shook free of the undergrowth they had been lying in, nearly went face-first due to a bit of vine, and then raced toward the looming blackness of the wall of the stronghold. She hugged the wall, alert for any sign they'd been spotted; she heard nothing except Moody's arrival several seconds later.

"Edge along the wall in your direction; about fifty yards farther, there's a set of stairs leading into the Smithy. That's our objective." He whispered in a characteristic snarl.

Tonks nodded understanding; knowing Moody could see her perfectly and began easing her way along the wall. Step by careful step she went, sensing Moody in her trail. A round, gibbous moon slowly broke through the clouds, providing Tonks with sufficient light to see. Up ahead, she spotted the darker shadow on the ground that indicated the stairway.

She reached the edge of the pit, dropped to all fours, did a shoulder roll over the edge, and landed on her feet at the bottom of the stairway, facing a large, wooden door. Mad-Eye landed beside her a moment later. Tonks flourished her wand, muttered "Alohamora" softly and pushed the portal open.

Tonks stood on the threshold of their new location to reconnoiter. It was a large, single room of about 200 square feet. The walls were of rough-cut stones piled in layers with 3 slit windows on either side; those to her left were just commencing to admit small beams of moonlight. A series of 'never-ending' torches illuminated the entire room and six stone pillars supported a featureless, flat gray ceiling that stood 10 feet above the compacted dirt floor. At the far wall, a single door, identical to the one they had entered through, led off to the rest of the keep.

But the layout of the room was ordinary compared to its contents. Dominating the center of the room was a magnificent red-brick kiln, filled to the top with glowing, red coals being worked by a magic bellows. To her left, four large wooden work tables sat in military order, their tops festooned with all manner of black-iron clamps, tongs, molds, and other instruments who's function she could barely guess. To the right stood open wooden bins filled with various types of sands and silicates, an open metal rack she assumed would hold finished stock, and three wooden quenching barrels. The back wall held racks and shelves of more tools and rolls of parchment.

Moody shut the door behind them and rumbled in her ear "Someone's gone through a lot of trouble to set up a superb glass worker's shop. No need to disillusion in all this light."

Moody and Tonks quickly dropped their disguises and Moody headed for the far door. "This leads to the dungeon. My guess is any prisoners will be in there."

"Alastor, I just had a horrible thought" Tonks said. "What if he's not a prisoner?"

"Then our job's gotten ten times as difficult. We'll have to find him and either persuade or coerce the information from him, with barely an hour to do it in."

Tonks didn't ask how Moody could be so sure of the time remaining. She'd been his partner long enough to know how accurate his sense of time and direction were. It was as if he had a clock and compass in his head; Mad-Eye was never lost or late.

"But, I'm guessing 'prisoner'" Moody continued. "This workshop is pristine; never been touched. And, from what Willie said, it doesn't sound like Fowler went willingly."

They'd reached the door to the dungeon. A quick "Alohamora" by Mad-Eye swung it open and they peered into a six-foot wide stone corridor, as black as the pit.

"Give us a bit of light, Dora" growled Moody, and Tonks lit her wand with a speedy "Lumos." "Let's go" Moody barked and eased his way into the tunnel with Tonks bringing up the rear.

As they moved down the passageway, Tonks saw no change in the scenery save for empty cells on their right, but, she became aware of sounds: the quiet shuffle of their feet and Moody's staff on the stone floor, the steady drip-drip of condensed water from the cold walls, and something more.

From up ahead, she was hearing an odd, continuous rustling: a strange, sinister noise like a large snake slithering through a huge pile of dry leaves. Mixed at intervals with this sound was another: a muted, muffled, high-pitched whimpering like some small animal in intense pain. She was stumped as to what the sources of these peculiar noises could be.

She got her answer quickly and horribly. The last cell in the row was secured with a door of rusted iron bars. Inside the cell, stretching from wall to wall and dirt floor to ceiling was a monstrous plant: a ghastly collection of twisted, green-black vines like some mutated beanstalk. The creepers were adorned with spiked, nasty-looking foliage like holly leaves and half-a-dozen yellow flowers large as platters. But, this wasn't the warm, friendly yellow of daisies or sunflowers. These flowers were the sickly, disgusting yellow of dried vomit.

Two things made the sight even more terrible: the vines were animate; moving, undulating with some malignant, perverted form of life. Secondly; the vile thing was not alone in its chamber.

Lying on the floor in front of the barred door, almost completely encircled in the coils of some of the vines, was the body of a man. From what little Tonks could see, he was dressed in rags, barefoot, his arms pinioned to his sides by the monster tendrils. The largest yellow flower was pressed over his face and periodically flexed, as if clamping down tighter. During these contractions, a tormented shudder shook his entire body and one of the high-pitched sobs escaped from under the depraved blossom.

"Tonks! Blast the lock and stand back!" Moody bellowed, in a tone that left no room for debate. Dowsing her light, Tonks sent a charge into the lock with her wand. A small cloud of dust, rock chips, and fine metal shrapnel flew into the air and the door swung open.

The affect was instantaneous: the unoccupied vines reared like cobras and struck across the threshold at Moody. But, the Auror was ready for this move. With a cry of "Flamma", a two-foot tongue of fire burst forth from the end of Moody's wand and he swung his arm over his head, creating an arch of fire in the hallway. At the flames' touch, the tentacles recoiled violently and Moody stepped closer. From there, it was a constant, continuous duel of vine's thrust and fire's parry as Mad-Eye forced his way into the cell.

"Tonks" he roared. "The incantation is Flamma; make a mental picture of a raging fire. Attack the vines holding him prisoner. When he's released, get him back to the smithy; I'll cover our retreat. GO!!" With which, Mad-Eye again advanced on his fantastic opponent.

"Flamma" Tonks shrieked, thinking of the biggest bonfire she'd ever seen. Immediately, her wand became a second flame-thrower and, ducking under Moody's arm, she rushed to the rescue.

The great blossom detached from its victim's face and turned on Tonks, but quick brushes with the fire caused it to snap back, its stalk writhing and knotting like a beheaded serpent and the flower emitting a high-pitched keening of vegetable agony. Tonks played flame along the coils holding the prisoner. The twists of plant-life bucked and shook, trying to withdraw from the fire, yet keep their prize. Tonks scuttled forward on hand and knees, jabbing her brand against the green tentacles again and again. Suddenly, they whipped backwards and the body of the sufferer came rolling at Tonks. She caught him around the shoulders with her left arm and began dragging them both through the cell doorway, flailing continuously above them with her blaze.

In the corridor, she got her feet under her, let her wand extinguish and used both hands to heave hard on her burden. Gathering momentum, she yelled "We're clear, Mad-Eye; get out of there!" She half carried, half dragged the carcass down the corridor while, behind her, Moody was edging backwards, still furiously battling the hydra.

Reaching the door of the smithy, Tonks heaved her burden to his feet. He was beginning to moan and stir, but, she had to lift him onto the edge of the nearest table by main strength. Seating him there with his head between his knees, Tonks turned to the dungeon door . . . just in time to see the torn, smoking figure of Mad-Eye come stumping through.

Tonks heaved a huge sigh of relief. "Alastor, thank God! What was that thing??"

Moody leaned heavily on his staff, breathing deeply. "Anaconda Vine," he rasped. "One of the terrors of the tropical rainforests. It catches prey in its coils, sucks their minds empty through the blossoms to suppress resistance, and then secretes acid to dissolve and absorb the remains; a very horrible way to go. I suspect Douglas has explored the Amazon in his career. Makes me glad Mona Sprout used to beat Herbology into my thick skull in our school days." He took another huge breath, and then grinned mischievously at Tonks. "Fancy popping back in to harvest a cutting for her?"

Tonks' less-than-cordial reply was interrupted by a ragged gasp from the man they had saved. "Water . . . please, water!"

Tonks snatched a glass goblet from a nearby shelf, muttered "Aquamenti" to fill it with her wand and shoved it into the poor unfortunate's trembling hands. He threw his head back and drank greedily, oblivious to the streams running down his cheeks.

"Oh, thank the gods and bless you both" he panted as Tonks refilled his goblet.

He was a wretched sight: clothed only in the ragged remains of what had once been a matching jacket and trousers; covered with scratches all over his slight body as though he'd been fighting hand-to-hand with a particularly aggressive roll of barbed wire; and still showing ligature marks where he'd been constricted by the demon creeper.

He had a rounded head which was completely shaved, a prominent nose, and protruding blue eyes which had a hint of wildness in them. His voice, now properly lubricated, was soft and quiet with a definite British accent.

After his second drink, he turned his jutting eyes on his rescuers in wonder, with a slight touch of fear.

Moody broke the ice. "How is it that vine didn't devour you? Could Douglas control it?"

"No" the victim replied. "He feared that monster as much as anyone. He'd visit me every day, immobilizing the vines with a spell before he entered the cell. He'd ask me if I was ready to serve him. When I'd refuse, he'd close the door and let the plant have me again. He never let my mind get completely empty, so, the cycle would start once more and my misery was drawn out over and over again." The little man shuddered. "It was agony, but, I couldn't give in." He stared unfocused at the floor, a look of stubborn defiance on his features. "I'll never allow an evil wizard to benefit from my workmanship, no matter the cost to me personally."

He suddenly seemed embarrassed by this show of principle and dropped his eyes, spying the goblet he still clutched. "Oh . . . German; possibly from the Rhine" He set the vessel so it stood on his palm, examining it critically. "Blown . . . yes, not cast; acid etched . . . marvelous depiction of a vineyard . . . hmmm."

His mutterings were interrupted by Moody's growl "Are you . . . Erised Fowler?"

The little chap looked up quizzically. "Why . . . yes; yes, I am. Do I know you?"

Moody grunted with satisfaction. "No, Master Fowler; we've never met before. But, we've sought you out because . . ." Moody's speech was broken up by the crash of the outside door bursting open.

Seven men came pouring through the aperture, lining up abreast to face the trio. All were garbed as ordinary seaman, save one.

He stood at the center of the line and his attitude of command marked him captain as surely as the quality of his costume. He was garbed like a cavalier: black were his boots, pants and belt; his ruffled, silk shirt was snowy white; and the coat that hung to mid-thigh and his wide-brimmed hat were of pure, deep crimson. A white ostrich plume decorated the gold band of the hat.

He was not tall, but wide; thick and heavyset. His broad face was burned by a life of sun, wind, and salt; his pitiless, dark eyes were set beneath thick, black brows; his dark hair hung in ringlets to his collar; his cruel mouth showed large, even teeth amidst dangling black moustaches and a chin-covering goatee.

He spat on the floor and spoke in a harsh, tenor bark "Fowler, did you think I'd not sense magic used in my own house?"

He stepped down on the bottom step and glared as Moody and Tonks stood and moved shoulder-to-shoulder, barring his path to the ragged wizard.

"I don't know how these two got into my keep, or why two skilled thieves would bother with a useless bilge stone like you, but, they're about to pay for challenging Scarlet Jack Douglas." He turned to his crew. "Gut 'em both, boys"

The pirates, bristling with bared daggers and cutlasses, screamed a war cry and charged the two Aurors.

The Looking Glass Prison

(From "The Adventures of Mad-Eye Moody")

Chapter Eight – Duel in the Dungeons

"Tonks; take the right; I'll take the left!" Suiting actions to words, the Auror team sprang into battle.

Tonks took careful aim and blasted two pirates backward over a worktable to lie in a collapsed heap on the floor. The last pulled up short, staring in amazement at his fallen mates. Tonks took the opportunity to try a Moody special. "Calderia" she hollered and a pit opened at the sailor's feet, sucking him neck deep into the ground.

Turning, she saw that Moody had been equally effective: one pirate was stuck to the wall like he was mounted on flypaper; a second was trussed up in ropes and dangling from the ceiling like an extremely ugly piñata; the third was poking his head out of a now-sealed quenching barrel like a prairie dog.

The adventurers turned to the gaudy chieftain, who stood in open-mouthed amazement. Slowly, as if emerging from a dream, Scarlet Jack Douglas reached into his coat and pulled out an ebony wand. A disdainful smile now colored his features and he swished his wand through the air like a sword, loosening up for battle.

"Wizards" he purred "I should have guessed. Two of you magically invade my keep to rescue that cringing bit of filth; what a waste, but I can't make exceptions."

He stepped forward and raised his wand.

Moody barked at Tonks "Grab Fowler and get behind the forge. Protect him at all costs." So said, he strode in front of the forge to face his foe.

Douglas bared his teeth in a joyless grin. "So, it's to be you, is it?" he chuckled. With a sweeping motion of his wand, he sent a ball of crackling, blue energy shooting straight at Moody . . . who stood his ground and with a flick of his wand, brushed the missile aside like some annoying fly.

Douglas' eyebrows shot straight up for a moment, then, he resumed his gloating, sneering expression of before. "So, my friend; you're more formidable than little Fowler. This could prove mildly entertaining after all."

He whirled his wand like a lariat and shouted "Incendia Orbis." A ring of flames, six feet high, sprang into being around Moody and began to close in. Moody remained unperturbed. Extending his wand, he shouted "Glacialis Falx." The flames froze solid, instantly crystallized. A sweep of Mad-Eye's hand and they shattered with the crash of a thousand mirrors breaking. Moody leaned on his staff and glared at Scarlet Jack in silence.

Douglas seemed taken aback; whether by Moody's escape or by the casualness of it, Tonks couldn't tell. Now, with an air of slight desperation, the pirate struck again.

Thrusting his wand forward like a sword, Douglas shrieked "Vox Telum" and a gleaming, golden corkscrew of pure energy, two feet across and ten feet long, went auguring straight at the Auror.

Moody swept his staff in a circle in front of him, bellowing "Palme Contego." A sparkling half-sphere of purple force appeared in front of him. Douglas' projectile struck this shield and splintered like a glass lance striking a rock, the shards vanishing before they hit the ground. Mad-Eye's shield vaporized and the combatants faced each other again.

Fairly dancing with rage, the brigand commander screamed "Levita Tentatio" and five bolts of ruby lightning shot at Mad-Eye . . . who whirled his wand and brought one of the wooden tables floating in front of him to accept the broadside. The flash attack caused an explosion that shook the room, splinters flew everywhere, smoke and the stench of burnt wood filled the air.

Tonks and Fowler ducked behind the forge to escape the blast. The trapped pirates, not being able to move, shrieked in terror. Said shrieks were abruptly cut off. When she raised her head, Tonks saw Moody flip the smoking remains of the table aside and square off again, awaiting Scarlet Jack's next move.

It was not long in coming. A cry of "Serpensortia Maxima" produced six snakes, each about 10 feet long, patterned in diamond shapes of alternating pink and black, with heads as wide as a man's hand. They slithered across the floor straight at the embattled warrior wizard.

"Bushmasters from South America; largest viper in this hemisphere" Douglas cackled fiendishly. "Let's see what you make of them, my friend."

Moody pointed his wand at one of the bins of shiny, white silicate and shouted "Ventus Mucro." Instantly, a whirlwind appeared on top of the bin, siphoning the granules up into its spinning vortex.

With a wave, Moody brought his mini-cyclone across the room and in front of him where it completely engulfed the slithering horde of serpents. The wind swirled faster and now the grains of sand were tinged with the deep red of blood as the snakes were sand-blasted to bits. After a moment, Moody let the whirling mass disintegrate into the ground and no trace remained of either snake or cyclone.

"I make stew of 'em when I have time to cook, my friend" Moody snarled harshly at his antagonist.

Douglas, overwhelmed by fury, brought his hands together and then threw his arms wide with a scream. "Tsunamius" he bawled at the top of his lungs. With a thunderous roar, a wall of green water, eight feet high and twelve wide, appeared from nowhere and rushed down on Moody.

Moody took one stride toward the oncoming deluge, thrusting forth his staff with a shout of "Rutilus Mare." The wave parted in the middle as though it had struck a giant steel wedge. Waving his arms wide, Mad-Eye sent the parted waters to the outer walls where they poured out through the slit windows and were gone.

Suddenly, Douglas pointed his wand at Moody's feet and screamed "Nex Nidor." The dirt began to shift and dark green smoke billowed up in a cloud, totally engulfing the Auror.

Scarlet Jack gave forth a mad howl of laughter and advanced on Tonks and Fowler, skirting carefully around the swirling orb of green. "So much for him" he hissed through bared teeth. "Now, I'll settle you, missy."

Tonks stepped in front of Fowler, wand at ready; determined, if nothing else, to avenge her mentor and friend.

Suddenly, with a muffled boom, the dark green cloud split asunder and vanished, while Mad-Eye Moody stalked toward the stunned pirate chief. Moody had his wand in classic attack position and his face held a look of contempt that Tonks had seen him reserve for the most pompous of Ministry bureaucrats.

"You're a fool as well as a blackguard, Jack Douglas" Moody thundered. "Just because you make ignorant sailors cower before you, and can dominate a frightened, poorly-trained craftsman, did you really think that made you a power to be reckoned with? Hell, my girl Tonks could deal with a dozen like you!"

Moody stopped and raised his wand. "Now, we end this!!" he roared.

Douglas, in a passion of rage, spun toward Moody with an inarticulate shout and raised his own wand, but the Auror gave him no chance. With a cry of "Reducto",Mad-Eye blasted the pirate chief off his feet. His hat and wand flew in separate directions and Scarlet Jack rolled over and over along the floor, fetching up hard against the back wall of the workshop.

Moody started toward the fallen buccaneer, but Douglas scrambled to his feet and, with a backward glance full of fear, the Scourge of the Caribbean disappeared through the door to the dungeon.

Tonks sprang forward in pursuit, but was brought up short by Moody's hand on her shoulder.

"Come on, Mad-Eye. He's getting away" she cried.

"There's no need, Dora" Moody rumbled quietly. "I left that cell door open."

Moody's words, and Tonks' look of dawning shock, were punctuated by a scream echoing down the corridor from the dungeon: a hoarse wail of agony and horror and rage, all mingled into one horrible shriek.

For two heartbeats, there was dead silence, and then Tonks walked to the door and focused all her senses down that black tunnel. Just barely, she could discern it: a high-pitched sobbing mixed with a quiet, evil rustling.

Tonks spun away from the dungeon, hands over her mouth, concentrating all her will on keeping her gorge down. A wave of Moody's wand silently closed the door. He patted her shoulder roughly, saying "It's all right, lass. There's nothing down there to concern us."

Tonks nodded her head bitterly, appalled at the forms of justice that Fate sometimes meted out. Together, the partners approached the cowering craftsman.

"You've nothing to fear, my friend" Moody rumbled gently. "We'll soon be gone and Douglas won't be harming you, or anyone else, ever again."

"Gone . . . what to you mean; gone?" the little glass-master stammered.

Tonks, the less-intimidating member of the duo, knelt, laid her hand on Fowler's forearm and took charge. "We are not from this era. We come from 300 years in your future, from the late 20th century. We've traveled back here magically, to seek you out, Erised, because we need your help."

"My help?" the poor chap looked baffled. "My help? But, you're extraordinary wizards; you do things I couldn't dream of! What help could I possibly be to you?"

"Magical talent is varied and complex; each witch or wizard can be helpless in one aspect and supreme in others. I'm trained as a fighter and investigator", Tonks looked significantly at her mentor "and Moody is the best warrior of our age, but we can't do anything about freeing our friend from your mirror."

Erised's face suddenly lit up with surprise. "My mirror! The one I left at Hogwarts? You know of my mirror?"

"Yes, that's the one" Tonks went on quickly. "Our friend, a good and kind man, is trapped inside it and all our efforts to free him have been in vain. Tell us what to do, please."

Erised stared off into space, deep in thought. Then, he looked at Tonks.

"Tell me" he said. "Could the mirror have been in the presence of an evil wizard recently?"

"Yes" Tonks verified "yes, it has."

"And" Erised continued "could this wizard have looked in the mirror, but not physically touched it?"

"From what I've been told" Moody growled "he wasn't capable of touching it."

"That's the answer, then" the glass-master chortled. "It's my defense mechanism; the spell I put on the mirror to protect it from being stolen by someone wicked."

The diminutive sorcerer became decidedly more animated as he spoke. "I always feared my creations would be perverted by the wrong people, so, I planted a spell in the mirror to prevent this. The mirror uses a form of Legilimency to probe the viewer's mind, discover, and display their fondest desire. I set the mirror to respond to the readings of a truly evil mind by trapping the next person to touch it in a sort of Limbo state within the mirror until released. I never envisioned a scenario where some evil wizard who came for the mirror wouldn't be the next person to touch it."

"And, how is the prisoner released?" Tonks urged him.

"By group effort; I couldn't imagine myself dealing with them alone. Two wizards must touch the glass with their wands simultaneously while incanting "Erised to order vestry solvo." The captive will be ejected from the mirror at once."

Tonks looked at the glass-maker. "Thank you, Erised. Thank you so much."

"No, no . . . it is I who should thank you. I'll never be able to repay what you've done for me this day."

"Repayment is a moot point" Moody rumbled. "In a few minutes, we'll be traveling back to our own time."

"But, what of me?" Erised whined anxiously. "What shall I do? Where shall I go?"

"You're a free man and your own master, now" the big Auror growled. "Go where you please and do what you like." He stood a moment in thought. "If I could offer a suggestion . . . This seems to be an excellent workshop that Douglas set up. Why not stay here?"

"Here?" the craftsman asked in wonder. "I could do much here; I could create and craft so many articles I've thought of over the years." He paused and then turned a worried face to his companions. "But, there may be others like Douglas; wanting to corrupt my work for their own ends! And, I know nothing about running a fortress like this! What shall I do for food, clothing, and all the necessities?" He looked overcome by the magnitude of the task.

Moody forestalled him with a raised hand. "When we're gone, you'll be the only wizard left in this region. You'll be able to guard your treasures easily from Muggles . . . especially if you use this" and Moody held out the ebony wand of the deposed pirate lord. "Douglas won't need it anymore."

Fowler looked from Mad-Eye to the wand in incredulity, then reached out a tentative hand and took the proffered rod. He lifted it up, gazing at it in awe, and then sent a stream of bright green sparks jetting up to the ceiling.

Tonks squeezed his arm affectionately. "As for running the keep" she interjected, "there was an old sailor on your voyage from England, called Windy Willie." At Erised's nod, she continued. "He's to be found at the Blind Pelican in Tortuga. It strikes me that he'd give good service to a kind master." Tonks chuckled warmly. "Especially, one who was generous with the rum ration?" She and Moody both roared with laughter and then, hesitantly at first; then heartily, Erised Fowler, new master of the Isle of Shadows, joined in.

"Ah, my friends" Fowler gasped, wiping his eyes, "I can't remember the last time I laughed like that. A good laugh invigorates the spirit. It felt so excellent!" The little man gave another chuckle and then turned wet eyes on the Aurors.

"You've saved my life; now, you've given it purpose and meaning." He spoke huskily; a single tear trickled down his cheek. "I'll be forever grateful."

Moody remained silent; Tonks reached up and caressed the craftsman's face.

Fowler looked directly up at Moody and spoke again. "As our time is short, I wonder if I might ask a favor, my friend." When Moody nodded, Fowler licked his lips and pointed at Moody's face. "I wonder if I might examine that."

Mad-Eye stared straight at the glass-maker a moment, then, reaching up, plucked out his magic eye and held it in his extended palm.

Erised picked up the eye with reverence and admiration, turning it this way and that in awe. He spoke in a respectful whisper "Glorious . . . a marvel . . . this is a work of genius!" Without raising his eyes from the object of his scrutiny, he rasped "Wherever did you get it?"

"Right here, in this very room" Moody replied. "In the summer of 1950, I will be part of an expedition from Hogwarts on a historical dig of the ruins of this fortress. I found the eye buried directly in front of this forge."

Tonks looked back and forth between the two men, feeling the icy fingers of Fate on the back of her neck.

Wordlessly, Erised; the glass-master; handed the eye back to Moody and watched as the Auror returned it to its proper place. "In front of the forge, do you say?" he whispered. Moody nodded and an unspoken look of understanding passed between them.

Tonks became aware of a slight, silvery shimmer before her eyes. It seemed to grow stronger with each passing second. "I think our time is up" she stated and Moody nodded again.

"Best stand clear, Fowler" Moody growled as he stood side-by-side with Tonks in the glowing aura that began to slowly swirl about them.

"Wait" cried the craftsman, stepping away, clutching his new wand with both hands. "Tell me your names!"

"Nymphadora Tonks and Alastor Moody" bellowed the big Auror as the silver vortex began to blur their vision of the smithy.

"I'll remember your names" Erised called loudly as his benefactors began to lose sight of him. Their last sense of the 17th century was Erised's voice. "I'll remember. . ."

And then, he and the fortress were gone, with the sound of thunder.

The Looking Glass Prison

(From "The Adventures of Mad-Eye Moody")

Chapter Nine – Closure

The pillars, topped by winged boars, had never looked as welcome to Tonks before as she and Moody appeared before the gates at Hogwarts. She glanced at the sun and saw that it was just beginning to color the western horizon with the first orange of sunset. Augie was truly a wonder.

Without a word, the team set off, side-by-side, Tonks adjusting her pace to accommodate Moody. Along the path, up the steps, through the double doors, into the entrance; the Aurors marched, bearing their precious burden of information.

Down the corridor, down to the dungeons, they strode. Tonks tried to stay focused and resolute, but her imagination was churning after this day's incredible experiences.

What if this was all a ruse? What if Fowler had played them false? What if they tried the incantation and nothing happened? She glanced at her battle-scarred partner. "I'm getting as bad as Mad-Eye" she thought ruefully. "Next, I'll be checking for hexes on my underclothes before I get dressed."

From the corridor, they veered into the unused room with the door set in the back wall. Tonks muttered Lumos!" and led the way into the rough-hewn passageway behind it. Down through the twists of the tunnel to their objective, the young witch and old wizard tramped.

They stepped through the wall and into the vaulted rotunda. Evidently, Dumbledore had kept up the rescue effort in their absence for a diverse group was still assembled: Flitwick was seated on the marble staircase, head in hands, cudgeling his brain for another possible solution; McGonagall and Sprout were on the far side of the room, holding a whispered conference by one of the great pillars which supported the domed ceiling.

On the smooth, circular floor, Dumbledore was pacing furiously, desperately attempting to stimulate his imagination. Tonks noted a cluster of three house-elves huddled together about half-way up the stairs. The Headmaster used all the resources at his disposal when he attacked a problem, Tonks thought with admiration.

On the floor in front of them, the great golden mirror stood exactly as before. Professor Snape was standing in front of it in the midst of some highly convoluted gesture; probably an invention of his own. Tonks, who had always been wary of the Potions master, would have waited until he had finished, but, Moody was having none.

"One side, Snape" Mad-Eye roared as he limped forward, rudely shouldering the professor out of his way. "I haven't traveled hundreds of years and thousands of miles to wait on the likes of you. Get in position, Dora."

Tonks hurried over to stand on the right flank of the mirror of Erised, noticing Hagrid still floating helplessly on the other side of the enchanted glass. Moody flanked the mirror on the left, wand held forward.

"Ready, on three, Dora" Moody barked. "One . . . two . . . three." They touched wands to the glass, calling out in unison "Erised to order vestry solvo."

The effect was immediate and impressive: the glass went black as a Dementor's dreams; the entire golden frame of the giant looking-glass began to vibrate; and faint wisps of soft gray smoke began curling up from the edges of the glass.

The mirror gave two remarkable shudders and one startling jump; there was a quick flash of golden light; and the mammoth form of Rubeus Hagrid was launched into the room as though shot from a cannon to crash to the floor at the foot of the enchanted mirror.

Hagrid lay in a heap; choking, sputtering, and coughing while shivers ran the length of his massive frame. The on-lookers gave cries of delight and wonder and began clustering around him until Dumbledore took charge.

"Please, everyone stand back and give him some breathing space" Albus Dumbledore said while holding one hand aloft in a gesture of command.

Suddenly, the great figure on the floor made a loud, retching noise and rolled over on its back. There were two or three loud intakes of breath . . . then a hoarse, raspy whisper: "Blimey . . . now, that was a bit worse than a finger in the eye . . . I swear!"

". . . A delightful narrative, Nymphadora" Dumbledore commented with relish. "Well told, entertaining, and also quite educational. I heartily approve."

Dumbledore was seated behind his desk in the headmaster's office. Tonks and Moody sat facing him in twin arm chairs. Tonks took a sip from her goblet, easing the soreness brought on by two solid hours of talking and answering his pointed questions.

"I see that, on my next trip to the Ministry, I'll have to visit Thurgood and express my gratitude for his assistance" the Headmaster continued to muse out loud.

"Just be discreet, Albus" Mad-Eye commented. "Fudge won't like it if he thinks you're mucking about in that department."

"Oh, don't worry, Alastor; I'll be the very soul of discretion" Dumbledore smiled. "There's nothing sinister about two old codgers sharing some brandy at the Leaky Cauldron."

Dumbledore got up and paced a bit, watched by the two Aurors. "I've certainly learned more about the mirror of Erised than I ever suspected and I find our histories of magic in the Americas are woefully in need of updating." He sighed and shook his head. "A task I'll need to find time for."

He leaned back on the edge of the desk. "Hagrid will also be quite pleased to learn he has friends who are willing to take such pains on his behalf."

"How is Hagrid, Professor?" Tonks inquired.

"Coming along swimmingly; no permanent damage to speak of" Dumbledore seemed exceptionally pleased to state this fact. "Between Madam Pomfrey's excellent care; the tonic that Severus has brewed; and his own remarkable constitution, I expect Hagrid up and about in days; if not, hours."

Dumbledore stood and clapped his hands, smiling his warm smile. "And so, my dear friends, I believe we can consider this case closed."

"We have one more loose end to tie up, Albus" Moody growled. "if we could trouble you for a portkey."

Dumbledore studied the old Auror a moment, then reached into his cabinet and pulled out a stained, worn leather work glove, which he placed in the center of an empty table.

"I hope you won't be long, Alastor. We are planning a feast of celebration and Jolly is so looking forward to personally serving Master Moody and Miss Tonks."

Moody tapped the glove with his wand, intoning "Portus." He and Tonks stepped up to the table and touched the portkey. "We'll be back within the hour, Albus. Ready on three, Dora? One . . . two . . . three."

At three, she felt the familiar tug behind the navel and the spin of travel.

They popped into being at the very top of the cliff on the Isle of Shadows. Moody tucked the glove in his belt for the return trip and the pair approached the overgrown cemetery.

Using their wands like scythes, they quickly cleared away undergrowth and piles of dried-out palm fronds.

"Mad-Eye, it's over here" Tonks called and he limped over and stood with her to study the headstone.

It was a large gray stone, decorated with ornamental scrollwork and carved in large block letters with the single word: FOWLER.

Moody stood quietly a moment longer and then said "Do you recall the last words he said to us?"

Tonks replied softly "That he would remember our names."

Moody nodded, looked at the stone and barked "Alastor Moody." Nothing happened. He paused, considered, and then said "Tonks." The stone remained idle.

Moody glanced at his companion, with one eyebrow cocked mischievously, then turned to the stone and bellowed "NYMPHADORA!"

With a puff of smoke and flash of yellow light, a rolled parchment shot out of the stone straight to Moody's hand. He caught it expertly, unrolled it in one motion, and then held it at arms-length, so both he and Tonks could read together.

My very dear friends,

If you're reading this, I am gone but my plan has worked.

As I lie here, penning these words, an excellent carver is working on my stone. When he leaves, I shall enchant this scroll into the stone to await you.

My time grows short and soon, I'll rejoin my good, loyal Billy, who passed into the service of a much-greater master than myself not two months gone. I miss him so.

I wished to thank you again for the service you did me that I can never repay adequately. Therefore, I bestow on you my last gift:

In the cell where that devil plant tormented me, if you touch the back wall and say 'Erised Fowler's final gift', a concealed panel will open, revealing a mirror.

I've put no defensive spells on it, having learned my lesson, so the mirror will serve whoever possesses it. While it is yours, it will show you images of your enemies. The greater the clarity of the image, the closer the proximity of the foe. I hope the Foe-Glass serves you well.

I've placed the eye in front of the forge. It took nine months to get it to operate properly and I never made another.

I don't know what is waiting for me on the other side, but if the afterlife is ruled by goodness and justice, we'll meet again.

Until that meeting, I shall remain your friend across the centuries,

Erised Fowler

Moody stood gazing quietly at the stone, and then handed the scroll to Tonks and turned to the keep. He stumped along, Tonks at his side.

"Why so glum, Dora?" he inquired. "Something on your mind?"

"Well, you got a magic eye and an enchanted mirror out of this little excursion; Hagrid got back his freedom; Augie got to test his little toy; and Dumbledore got new insights into many mysteries. I was just trying to figure out what I got out of it"

"Why, Dora" Moody rumbled as he walked along, "you got something that any woman would treasure."

"Oh, and what, pray tell, is that?"

Moody stopped and faced her. "What you got, my dear Nymphadora, is proof positive" and here he tapped the scroll with a gnarled finger and then tapped the tip of Tonks' nose. ". . . Proof positive that you are absolutely unforgettable."

The sound of their mingled laughter accompanied them as the two adventurers ambled toward the ruins to collect the final masterpiece of the gentle, brilliant little craftsman they had rescued and befriended in times long past.