Chapter 6

Of Lions

It was worse than she thought it would be though. The blood had dried and now was stained onto the kitchen tiles, marking a perfect pool where the body had once laid. Tonks could only stare at it. Did people actually have that much blood in them? It was hard to imagine a death quite like this one and Tonks found herself wondering if Blasamore had been fully conscious when his head smacked the floor. The last thing he saw in this mortal world was the cream colored ceiling. Had he been alone or had the culprit staying long enough to watch the light leave his prey's eyes? Blasamore's wand was nowhere to be found so the aurors were only left to assume that the culprit had taken it.

"Maybe the criminal did it with Blasamore's wand and was afraid we'd check it," Gallian, another wizard on duty, proposed.

"More likely that he didn't want to leave Blasamore means of calling for help or hexing him," Scrimgeour took another look around the kitchen before moving onto the living room.

Tonks was still apprehensive to enter in there but felt sick if she looked at the red on the floor much longer. Turning her eyes to the upper cupboards she joked, "Let's remember that it could be a woman we're dealing with!"

Her joke went unnoticed by the men who followed Scrimgeour into the living room. A fleet of them went upstairs as well and Tonks wondered if tagging along with them would be best. She waited in the kitchen, hoping maybe someone would say something about the heads. Maybe someone would remark about how odd that was, how cruel to have werewolf heads stuck up on your wall. Surely someone else besides Tonks had never heard of such a thing. Scrimgeour could be humorless and strict but surely he wasn't heartless. Wolves were a dangerous group and when put together, potentially nasty, but to consider them a breed that needed to be wiped out was vindictive. It ranked right up there with racism or crazy pure blood ideas. Surely someone would look at the wolf heads and see the head of a muggle born hung up there instead of simply game. Tonks waited for such a remark to sound but none came.

When she finally entered the living room, she found Scrimgeour and the rest digging about in drawers, levitating things with their wands as not to touch them. All eyes were on the carpeting, the finely finished woodwork, the intricate stain glass windows or the vintage desk drawers. No one looked up. No one seemed to notice the wolf heads. But Tonks did. In actuality she had never seen a werewolf before. In books of course but not in real life. And even in books, people were far too scared to take a picture of a werewolf unless the thing was a skinned hide. Everything was captured by drawings. Now there were six wolves looking down at Tonks with what appeared such vitality that she feared they might actually jump from their perches and walk about the room.

But with what legs? Tonks thought.

Three of the six were rather shaggy looking, unkempt and dingy manes—much like an actual wolf would look like. The others were short haired and appeared somewhat anemic, one especially—the smallest one. He was tiny next to his counterparts and seemed to stare with fear more so than anger.

Tonks stared around and still no one was paying the wolves any attention. "Doesn't that bother you?" she asked.

"What?" Scrimgeour asked, not looking up from examining a handsome set of China Blasamore had assembled in a cabinet.

"Those heads!" Tonks pointed at the wolves, unable to look at them anymore.

An auror by the name of Knobel followed Tonks' finger, "He was a hunter. Some kind of wild dog, huh?"

Most of the wizards now had looked up at the heads but showed little interest in them. "They're not dogs!" Tonks yelled, "They're werewolves!"

Knobel blinked a few times before turning his head slightly to the right, examining the heads, "Are they? Never seen one before."

"Tonks, Bowey and the others are up stairs," Scrimgeour said calmly, "Go up and see if they need anything."

"But I just-"

"I will not tell you again," the head auror said suddenly with a harsh amount of bite behind his voice, "Go and see if Bowey needs you. Or you can take yourself back to your cubical. I'm sure there's plenty of paperwork for you to do."

"Those are-"

"I'm not here to discuss what they are or aren't, Tonks," now Scrimgeour didn't even bother looking in her direction. He turned back to his work, examining the scene and poking things with his wand, "Keep your mind on the task at hand."

Not wanting to look at those heads any more but refusing to meet Scrimgeour's patronizing demand, Tonks headed back to the kitchen, danced around the pool of dried blood and found herself against the back wall, staring at the crime scene in full view. She crossed her arms and sulked for a second or two. In the living room the sounds of the other aurors was heard but few of them spoke about evidence, let alone Blasamore's hunting trophies.

Tonks' mind began to wander and she found herself staring out the window, still a bit enraged, when she heard footsteps into the kitchen. Scrimgeour had entered and was pointing to the patio door off the kitchen. "Outside," he said and briskly let himself out onto the patio. Once Tonks was out there as well, he ordered her to shut the door behind her.

"Don't think for a moment I'm ignorant," Scrimgeour said without missing a beat, "I knew it would be a conflict of interest bringing you along on this case but I was willing to let you surprise me."

"Conflict of interest?" Tonks wondered.

"Tonks, you can't parade across creation with a werewolf and not have people assume there is some kind of personal relations going on," he almost sounded like he was laughing.

The words threw Tonks off, "Per…personal relationship? What are you talking about?" without thinking, she almost confirmed what was going on with Remus—if it was Remus Scrimgeour was talking about. Without even thinking about it, Tonks nearly blurt out, "Who told you?" Able to keep at least that safe, Tonks had the mind to say nothing more.

"A friendship…at least…" Scrimgeour assured her, "I don't know his name but I've seen his mug."

"His mug?"

"Known werewolves are on file to keep track of them. We have files of many of them with their mug shots and where they are at least believed to be living. Well, surely you know," he said, noticing Tonks' confused expression, "that under the new decree werewolves are put under the supervision of the Auror Office instead of Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Dark Magic and all-"

"Werewolves are not dark magic!" Tonks spat.

Scrimgeour held up his hand to stop her further, "Conflict of interest. I knew it."

"This isn't a conflict of interest."

The thick head of hair made to look like a mane and all only made Scrimgeour look perfectly terrifying and livid, "I need to know you are going to help me find this man's murderer. Yes, he was a known werewolf hunter. Do I still have you on board to bring justice, Tonks?"

She stared at him, uneasy.

"Do I have your word?" he went on, "Even if it meant bringing your friend in?"

"What?" Tonks jumped.

"He had a reason to kill Blasamore. Werewolf hunter and all."

"So did every other werewolf if that's what you're basing it on!" Tonks was yelling now, "What proof do you have that he could be remotely involved? He's just one wolf in a sea of what, thousands?"

"But he's a wolf I have connections to," Scrimgeour said, almost sweetly—like it was a thing he had only dreamed of. A wolf within his reach. "Werewolves are hard to keep track of, Tonks. Nomads mostly. Only the ones that attempt to ease into society are on file. The ones that don't change their names regularly. The ones that try to hold jobs. The ones that think they have friends-"

Shaking with anger, Tonks shouted, "He is my friend!"

And calmly Scrimgeour narrowed his eyes and said, "Exactly. Werewolves are hard to hunt. Dangerous and only legally game when it's a full moon. Blasamore had six and was well regarded for said hunting skills. To make matters even clearer for you, Tonks, we believe completely that Mr. Blasamore was killed by use of a fire arm. A gun. Exactly what people think you use to kill a werewolf. Of course, now you see, a simple projection charm used on a silver bullet will bring a wolf down. No need for a gun. But someone as simple as your friend wouldn't know that, would he?"

"Simple?"

"If he told you he attended Hogwarts or any school for that matter, he is lying. And I will assure you, Tonks, he is lying about more than that. It's part of the disorder. Let me put this clearly: I believe Blasamore was killed by a wolf. I believed said wolf used a fire arm and a silver bullet to kill Blasamore much like he would have killed the wolf on a full moon's hunt. And any excuse I have to bring a killing wolf down I will take. I don't care if he kills with a gun or rips his victims apart. Worse yet, sometime they only bite their victims—leaving the family members to decide whether or not to kill their son or daughter or husband or wife in order to spare them from the misery and humiliation that being a werewolf is all about."

"You don't know anything," Tonks managed to whisper harshly.

"Don't I?" Scrimgeour pushed on, "I've been on this job much longer than you. I've seen the work a werewolf can do."

"So what?" Tonks hissed, "This is just a…an attempt to bring any wolf down? Any wolf you can get your hands on?"

To Tonks' great surprise, Scrimgeour nodded, "It would be very nice to finally bring one of those bastards to justice."

"Your idea of justice is pretty crappy then," she said, "He didn't do the murder you're trying him for! Remus didn't do-"

And as quickly as she had said it, Tonks shut up. Had she said too much? She had. The corners of Scrimgeour's lips began to curve and he knew she had failed a bit. She had given away too much.

"Remus, ay?" Scrimgeour said, "Anything that goes after that?"

Biting her lip, as if trying to keep the name inside her mouth and away from the prying eyes that stared deeply at Tonks now, she shook her head.

" I have his name, Tonks," the head auror went on, "I can head right to the office after I'm done here and look him up. Don't think I won't. Or you can tell me his name now."

Tonks said nothing.

"A man has been murdered for God's sakes!" Scrimgeour was the one yelling now, "A man has been murdered in his own home and you are standing in the way of avenging his murder! Can you live with that?"

She allowed herself to release four words from her still tightly clamped mouth.

"He didn't do it."

Scrimgeour stared at her for what felt like five more minutes, digging, it seemed, into her forehead. Tonks suddenly feared if he knew Legilimency. But within time, he leaned away and turned back to the door, unsatisfied and huffing. "You are dismissed! Go home!" he roared as he slammed the glass door behind him.

Still shaking in a mixture of feelings—anger, fear, dread and guilt—Tonks stared around at the fountains and Chinese water gardens, hoping for any sign, anything of what to do. A wave of anxiety filled her and she felt her hair sizzle to a deep black color.

It was then that an idea came to her.

The first thing Tonks did was stopped at her parents' house. Both were off at work but it was neither of them that she wanted. Instead she ransacked Ted's closet and found herself a pair of dress pants, a button down shirt, a tie, shoes, socks and finally Ted's best robe that he had. Her father's build was bigger than hers and thus the clothes hung on her like skin pulled and now too large for the body. But Tonks would fix that.

You see, Scrimgeour's build was much like her father's—not so wide but the same height. Tonks tried desperately to remember just how long Scrimgeour's hair was but when she couldn't make a clear guess, decided to simply tie the tawny mass back in a simple ponytail as she had seen him do occasionally. Standing in the mirror and looking at herself, Tonks knew the clothes looked awkward on her new Scrimgeour body for the head of the auror office would hardly ever wear something that wasn't tailored perfectly to his body. Even now on a new frame, Ted's clothes hung oddly at the Tonks' ankles and sagged a bit in the belly area.

Frowning, Tonks knew it was the best she could do and there wasn't much time left. She grabbed an old briefcase of her father's and disapparated to the Ministry.

All files on supposed dark wizards were kept in the back filing area of the aurors office. Tonks could only assume then that files on werewolves were kept there as well. So that is where she headed.

The secretary behind the desk greeted Tonks as everyone else had since entering the Ministry—with reverence. Usually Tonks was hardly ever even given a hello. So low on the rungs of Ministry officials, Tonks was lucky if Moody gave her a greeting. Now in Scrimgeour's place, she was getting tips of the hats and hellos all over the place. Some even spoke to her with a bit of fear in their voice as did the secretary.

"Good afternoon, sir," she seemed to shrill, "What can I do for you?"

Tonks tried to force her voice down into something somewhat manly. She even threw in a cough or two to make the secretary think perhaps Scrimgeour had a cough, "I need a werewolf file."

A bit of confusion spread across the secretary's face and for a moment Tonks thought she was in the wrong place but the woman merely said, "Of course, sir. Right through the door. As always."

Had Tonks (real Tonks) wanted to retrieve any files from the back room, the secretary would have demanded everything from her first born to her left leg. Scrimgeour, however, needed nothing. And with this newfound information and swagger, Tonks walked to the door and headed into the filing room.

It was how Tonks had remembered it from years ago when she had been given a quick tour of the auror office upon her first day at training. All it was was a large, narrow room with two mirroring rows of tall filing cabinets reaching up to the ceiling. There appeared to be a varity of makes and sizes put into each row. They were stacked on one another awkwardly and seemed to shift and tilt in the breeze that the vent system was creating. Ladders on wheels were set up next to the filing cabinets. Gold plated signs hung at random points down the row to mark off what each section had within it.

Tonks started down the row, looking eagerly for anything having to do with magical creatures or maybe even just werewolves. She flew past others who busied themselves in the large section of dark wizards. Some said hello and Tonks greeted them with nothing more than a head nod. There was no talking here. She had to get the damned file and get out of there.

The row seemed to go on forever. Tonks even found herself out of breath but then again her father's billowing clothes were not helping her keep speed. Within time, however she found a newly hung sign in the center of the row deigning everything from that point on to be the files of known werewolves. Now Tonks turned to the drawers themselves, pulled on one labeled with a large B and was met with about five folders that had the names Barron, Bettle, Bexworth, Blittney and Blatts printed on them.

Last names. She thought. They're sorted by last name.

Her fingers ran across the files until she uncovered the drawer with an L. She pulled that open and dug for the Lupin file. Like the seven others in the L drawer, Remus' folder was fat and packed with papers—as if the Ministry had been trailing his every move since birth. Or at least since being bitten. Tonks took a moment to flip through it and found several mugs as Scrimgeour had put them, a few candid shots (the Ministry was stalking him?) and some important looking documents including a piece of fancy paper that Tonks took as diploma saying that Remus had attended Hogwarts and had graduated.

She had no time to be angry but was filled at this point with a horrible apprehension. She could picture the real Scrimgeour walking in at any time or standing outside the door with the secretary as the bumbling lady asked how the head of the auror office was standing right in front of her when he was looking through werewolf files right now. Shaking a bit, Tonks slid Remus' folder into Ted's briefcase and walked towards the door.

The secretary gave a hearty farewell as Tonks left the backroom and made her way back to the lifts. All the while, Tonks stood, terrified that anywhere along the route Scrimgeour would be there. She nearly ran her way to the exit.

Green flames shot up within the fireplace at Grimmauld Place for the second time that day. Tonks stepped out of the ash, wearing what appeared to be oversized men clothes. The noise of the Floo Network made Sirius run to the kitchen. The sight of Tonks made him laugh.

Earnestly though she handed him a thick folder and said, "Sirius, I need you to burn this for me. You're welcome to go through it but you have to burn it. Just don't tell Remus and don't tell Moody. I may have just lost myself my job."