Another fragment – this one feels more like the bones of a story than a random plot bunny or scene. Not beta'd.
I do not own any person, occupation, or place recognizable from the Harry Potter series – they were written by JK Rowling.
This fragment/sketchy story is rated T.
Starts in the summer after Prisoner of Azkaban.
..NT..NT..NT..NT..NT..
Nymphadora Tonks – who hated her first name very much, thank you for not using it – was an auror. Aurors were supposed to keep the people of the wizarding world safe from a variety of dangers, some of which the common wizards didn't even need to know were menacing them. It wasn't just being sent along with the Magical Law Enforcement when they suspected something dangerous, like bad drugs, or criminals who'd holed up behind traps, or magical assassins. It wasn't just dealing with escaped dangerous magical beasts. It certainly wasn't just dealing with heavily cursed items. All of those were part of what an auror did, though frequently working with other departments.
She looked at the twinkling blue eyes of Headmaster Dumbledore, holder of many titles, few of which had a bearing on any given situation. It had sounded remarkably like he was harboring, or at least ignoring the probable whereabouts of, a known fugitive. A Death Eater, a traitor…
Taking a slow breath and reminding herself not to hex the Headmaster, she held herself in a stern, disapproving posture that she'd copied from Professor McGonagall and asked, "Did you just tell me that you are in contact with Sirius Black and that the situation is under control? What do you mean by 'under control' and why have you not attempted to recapture him?"
"My dear N…" He began with a wave of his hand.
"In this situation, it is Auror Tonks, and you will need to give me a much better explanation than trust me, I'm Albus Dumbledore." She snarled, shifting her face to look like his, complete with the long white beard and the half moon glasses, as she finished her words.
"I meant that Sirius Black can not be an escaped convict as he was never given a trial, and thus was never convicted of anything," Dumbledore folded his hands together, attempting to look wise and calm and solemn. His robes, a slightly greyish blue with white and grey clouds sweeping over them foiled any attempt at solemn.
Tonks blinked, her mind hanging up on the part about no trial. "But why wouldn't he have had a trial? There were a flurry of them, and even if a lot of them got rushed through in ways that make the DMLE cringe now, they were trials, Veritaserum was used, and evidence was presented. The only people that I can think of who didn't get trials are people who bought their way out and pled the Imperius."
"Alas, there were a number of irregular occurrences in those dark days," Dumbledore intoned, his eyes fixed to a point just above and to the left of her head.
Tonks bit the inside of her cheek to keep from snarling at him again. Dumbledore had been the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot then, which meant that there were only two possibilities. First, he had some reason of his own for letting Sirius be sent to Azkaban without a trial, in which case he was unlikely to share it. Second, Sirus's imprisonment had been part of some wretched compromise that must have seemed necessary at the time, and she hoped to all that was dear had been worth something. "Can you be absolutely certain that Sirius Black did not betray the Potters to the Dark Bastard, and that he is not a threat to Harry Potter's life and well-being?"
"Yes. In fact, he was rather misguidedly attempting to save Harry from a perceived threat when he escaped and came to Hogwarts this past year," the Headmaster replied. "Such a determined young man. He always was rather headstrong and impulsive."
Thus Tonks found herself meeting her cousin again for the first time in twelve years. They'd both changed a lot – she was no longer a clumsy tomboy with a wobbly tooth refusing to fall out and he was no longer the sleekly dashing Quidditch Beater who'd gloated about playing for the Scarlet Lions rather than the Green Snakes.
She'd waited until Dumbledore had turned his back to catch Sirius's eyes with her own, and she hadn't been satisfied until he'd sworn on his life, magic and very soul that he had no intention of causing Harry Potter harm, or teaching him the ancestral Black family prejudices.
It was only the next morning, after hours of talking with her cousin the night before, that Tonks figured out that Sirius had no idea that Dumbledore had left him in Azkaban. Dumbledore who'd gotten Severus Snape, who had been a Death Eater and spy, out on his say-so as the Chief Warlock and Headmaster Dumbledore, had done nothing for Sirius Black. The whole situation was rotten.
Naturally, she'd taken the chance to have an off-the-record word with her direct commander, Amelia Bones the Head of the DMLE, and also with the Unspeakable known as Munin. Amelia had the authority to verify if Sirius had a trial – Tonks believed that he didn't remember one, but Azkaban had done worse things than leave gaps in a memory before. The idea that someone could just be chucked into Azkaban for over a decade should have been unthinkable, and certainly fell under the auspices of Magical Law Enforcement. Munin was the Unspeakable who dealt with history, historical patterns and precedents. If something like this had happened before, the explanation might help make sense of what was happening now.
Besides that, her instincts were telling her that this was a tiny piece of a very ugly puzzle. The sort of ugly that got people Obliviated if they were lucky, dead if they weren't, and Cruciated into uselessness like the Longbottoms if their enemies were sadists. It would be best to get what she knew into the hands of people who could act while she still could, before she didn't have the chance.
Over the next year, her suspicion that things were not right only grew stronger. Madam Bones had reported that there was no record of a trial for Sirius Black, and the record of his arrest had been buried, perhaps to hide some of the irregularities. Death Eaters had attacked during the World Cup. Harry Potter's name emerged from the Goblet of Fire, and the group running the Tournament said that it meant he would be forced to take part in the tri-Wizard Tournament on penalty of death or losing his magic. Really, anybody who thought about it should have realized that something was dreadfully wrong when four names came out for a three school event. She'd mentioned that feeling as well, to both Madam Bones and to Unspeakable Munin.
Madam Bones was certain that there must have been tampering, and her words on the matter had been, "If a fourth year can do that to an old, powerful magical artifact, why the hell aren't I getting more talented new people? No, I don't think it was the Potter boy who caused his name to pop out, and I doubt it was meant as a favor for him. Someone wants to do something crooked, and they're trying to bury it in glitter and distraction."
Despite his authority as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Dumbledore did nothing to get a trial for Sirius. He did nothing to resolve Harry Potter being entered into the Tournament.
He did nothing other than try to look wise and powerful and vaguely unhappy during the whole year.
Meanwhile, Unspeakable Munin had Tonks trying to learn more about magical forms of coercion and compulsion. If the Imperius was the all-powerful tool of domination that the War with Voldemort had left wealthy wizards swearing that it was, then there needed to be better ways to detect and dispel that curse. Other magical ways to bend someone's will should also be investigated. Ways that would fool artifacts as well had a very high priority.
In between assignments, tedious research into things that would have left her hair white if not for her shifting, and nerve-wracking reports from Hogwarts, Tonks managed to sneak her cousin Sirius into the Ministry to speak to Munin. Part of her was hoping that Sirius might have some more clues to whatever was rotten in Great Britain.
Munin had started with a runic array to ensure privacy, and a second array to compel that every word spoken within the area of effect while the array was up would be truthful to the best of one's knowledge. He'd then followed that by demanding to know if Sirius had been the Potter's Secret Keeper, if he had ever served the dark wizard Voldemort, and if he meant to cause harm to Harry Potter in particular, and the general wizarding community as a whole.
Sirius had denied being the Secret Keeper, denied serving 'Vol-vol… that evil blasted wanking bastard that mother had been so impressed by', and insisted that he wanted Harry Potter safe from dark wizards 'so that he could spend his time playing Quidditch and pranks like his father did, and chasing pretty girls.' He'd had to think a bit about the general public, finally offering that while there were a few people that he thought would look better in pieces, he didn't want the whole world to suffer. He'd then demanded to know what he was doing here, in the Ministry that wanted to have him Kissed before he'd even had a bloody trial. He was rather rude about it as well.
Munin had chuckled, before he gave his reply, which approached the matter sideways. "You must know about what is going on with the Tournament. Someone is attempting to manipulate events, and I suspect foul motives. Dumbledore, despite the power given to him, is not countering the movements made, nor is he gathering allies to counter what he can not. Instead, he's playing silly games, and I don't know if the cause is ignorance, not measuring up to his impressive reputation, or senility. My best guess varies by the day."
"What do you mean, silly games?" Sirius had blinked.
"You. As the Chief Warlock, he could have arranged a trial for you at any time. He didn't. Instead he has you scuttling around, half convinced that only his good will protects you, when he could have put an end to all this nonsense years ago. Then there's this Tournament mess. Games are being played that have nothing to do with encouraging excellence from students. Among other things, never before did the Tournament cause the cancelation of Quidditch, something that can only cause ill-will and excessive focus on the tasks, Champions, and rumors. He's also been down to the Hall of Prophecies twice. History is filled with ugly results from paying too much heed to prophecy and not enough to what's happening," Munin shook his head.
"There's also a Fideleous Charm on the place where I'm staying…" Sirius paused. "He really seems to like that spell. It was his idea that James and Lily use that to hide, and he suggested it to the Longbottoms as well."
Munin had only nodded, "It is a powerful spell, and with the right sort for a Secret keeper, it gives a most effective disappearance. I will not ask where you have been, but are you the Secret Keeper for your hiding place?"
"no," the word was very soft. For a few moments, Sirius had been silent before growling out, "That twinkle-eyed bastard. With him as the Secret Keeper, I've lost control of that damned house. I couldn't do anything with it if I wanted to. And with the Ministry still looking for me and very, very few willing to help me… I'm in prison again. This one's just got a bit more space and less Dementors."
"That rather disturbingly parallels several historic events. Considering that you are the godfather of Harry Potter, and that Dumbledore had the Potter Wills buried, it points to an unusual degree of interest in the boy. I have spoken to some of the goblins at Gringotts, and while they would not tell me any details, they did assure me that the Potter holdings were safe and being properly maintained, and are awaiting the majority of Harry Potter. Nobody has stolen from the boy, though they would not tell me anything else about his accounts. The Wizengamot is under the impression that Dumbledore is guiding and protecting young Potter. Potter himself has been removed from easy communication – ordinary owls sent to him wander about before returning to their homes, letters unopened. Previously, people brought up in such conditions were being prepared as pawns and avengers, often set at tasks that nobody sane and secure would be willing to attempt. Combined with his recent interest in prophecies, and we have suspicions that Dumbledore is trying to prepare the Potter boy for some sort of final manipulations," Munin sighed, rubbing at something under his hood.
"But!" Sirius leapt to his feet, eyes wild and angry, "How can we stop him?"
"We do not have enough information to know what he's planning, let alone how to stop it. We were certain that you were being deliberately kept out of the way for a purpose. I can not tell you at this point if he has anything else in mind for you. Contingency plans might be wise in case you have outlived your usefulness," Munin's words were harsh.
After much swearing and ranting, Sirius accepted a specially made port-key from Munin, and a ring with a very thorough disguise programmed in, so that Sirius could leave the hidden place on occasion. Tonks watched in fascination as Sirius tested the ring. When activated, the clear quartz set in the ring turned a milky white, sending a faint ripple over the ring and then his whole body. Using the ring turned him into a grey eyed strawberry blond with freckles that Tonks thought looked almost like a Malfoy-Weasley child – something that she decided to never, ever mention.
The end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament should have brought relief. Instead, Cedric Diggory was murdered, claims were made that the dark wizard Voldemort was back – reborn, or resurrected, or walking around in some Frankenstein-like creation, Fudge had someone that may have been Barty Crouch Junior Kissed by a Dementor before he could be questioned, and Igor Karkaroff disappeared. While Tonks wasn't certain if it was really Voldemort, there had definitely been someone, some evil wizard, in the place where the port-key had taken Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory. An evil wizard that was being ignored by the Ministry because the very idea scared them, especially if this was really Voldemort.
More ugly pieces to an ugly puzzle. Bits of it were starting to take shape.
Dementors attacking Harry Potter in Surrey, where he was supposed to be safe and protected by some sort of obscure protections that Dumbledore had established was an unexpected shock. She was so relived and impressed that he'd been able to cast a Patronus to repel them. Even more impressed when she learned that his spell was a fully formed corporal Patronus, the likes of which most adults couldn't cast. Surrey was hardly the best place for such a visible spell as that, but the Tournament had declared Harry Potter as an adult wizard, and self defense had always been acceptable. Nobody had even needed obliviated to conceal the magic.
Except that someone decide to put him on trial for under-aged sorcery and violating the Statutes of Secrecy. And Dumbledore's response was to send a Howler to someone named Petunia and arrange a group to go fetch Harry Potter to Grimmauld Place.
Panicking, Tonks had talked to Amelia Bones and to Munin about the situation, hoping that one of them would have some way to help. Both had said that they'd see what could be done. Tonks had much more faith in their efforts than she did in whatever Dumbledore was planning.
Tonks had no idea what sort of illegal or underhanded dealing had changed the time of Harry Potter's trial, or why he'd only barely made it to the courtroom in time. Or what malarkey Dumbledore was up to standing aside the way he was and doing nothing to help Harry. Some 'leader of the light', some great wizard…
Despite the best efforts of Amelia Bones, the assembly found Harry Potter guilty of using magic in a muggle territory, violating the Statutes of Secrecy, and being a better wizard than most of them combined. Well, the last wasn't an official charge, but she couldn't find a better explanation for their outright refusal to believe that the winner of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, the Boy-Who-Lived, could cast a spell that they couldn't.
Fudge's Undersecretary was bubbling with fiendish glee as she pronounced Harry Potter as Guilty and sentenced him to Azkaban. Oh, the sentence was only supposed to be for six months, but that would be more than enough to wreck his life. Especially right before his OWL's year. If it didn't kill him.
A shocked Harry Potter was led away by a very old wizard in DMLE robes. The man looked fragile, more wrinkled than Madam Marchbanks, and stood no taller than Harry Potter himself.
It wasn't until Tonks was reminding herself not to cry that she realized that the ancient wizard had taken Harry the wrong way for the outgoing port-keys. Something was not as it seemed with the situation.
On Monday, the Ministry was quiet, with a rumor that the Undersecretary was up to something, and had not come to the Ministry today in preparation for her next big project. Fudge was in a horribly good mood. And a report had been filed that Harry Potter had been placed in cell 193-B in the South wing of Azkaban, with only mild delays in processing.
Her vision was blurry as Tonks barged into the office used by Unspeakable Munin. With the enchanted hood of his robes down, he looked like a rather harmless, very old man. A wrinkled, fragile looking old man. One that she'd seen just Saturday leading Harry Potter away. There was only one response possible – "Whhaaaaa?"
"The sentencing was rather public, Tonks. Everyone will assume that he's in Azkaban, and nobody will be desperate enough to visit him to see how he's doing. They'll just forget until whatever plan that Dumbledore's setting up is ready, and then try to pull him out like a trump card. Of course, Azkaban is a terrible place to keep a person that you want halfway sane," he looked far too calm for the situation.
"So you just let a fifteen year old boy go to Azkaban?" She frowned, and then whispered, "No, you're far too calm to have done that. What did you do, Munin?"
Instead of answering her question, Munin slid a pair of thin folders across his desk.
The first was the Azkaban processing and admittance record for Harry James Potter. In the picture, the still shocky looking boy was blinking and rubbing at his eyes behind the black plastic frames. One hand had a ring with a milky quartz stone. A ring just like the disguise ring that Munin had given Sirius Back.
The second folder held a copy of orders dispatching a pair of Dementors to Little Whinging Surrey, with orders to Kiss Harry Potter and anyone with him. Orders signed by Delores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to Minister Fudge.
"No…" Tonks whispered.
"A rather illegal order, no matter who's secretary she is," Munin took a sip from a mug of tea.
"Wait a minute…" Tonks looked at the picture again. "If the stone is only white when the ring is active, then that isn't really Harry Potter in Azkaban. You've switched him with someone else. But who? And how?"
"As to how, the Unspeakables have some tricks. Who is simple – the person who arranged for him to go there. I doubt that Delores Umbridge will enjoy her stay on the unforgettable island," Munin smiled.
"Then Harry is somewhere safe? Does Sirius know?" Tonks rubbed at her head, the hair turning short and dark blue.
"Sirius has gone to join Harry. My wife Nelle is determined to get them both into a much healthier condition, and it's been such a long time since our boys left home. We'll take over his education, since it seems that Hogwarts is no longer even tolerable for him," the old man sighed, before looking at her, "It is very important that you do not give the slightest sign that Harry Potter isn't slowly going mad in Azkaban."
"What will he be learning?"
"Anything that we think he may need, anything that he shows an interest in," the old wizard shrugged. "We'll probably need to start at the beginning for a few things. In some ways, the quality of a Hogwarts education had gone down over the last few centuries."
"And does he call you Munin at home, wherever that is?" Tonks asked.
"No, he calls me Grandpa Nic. He agrees that I certainly look old enough to be someone's grandfather, and I thought that Uncle might have more than a few unwelcome memories for him He'll enjoy staying with Grandpa Nic and Aunt Nelle a good deal more than he enjoyed Hogwarts or the Dursleys," the old wizard snorted. "My Nelle insisted that calling her grandmother would make her feel old."
"You are old," Tonks commented.
"Ah, but it's quite rude to point that out to a lady, and my wife is a lady. She also knows quite a few hexes and curses," Munin countered.
"If Voldemort is really back, instead of it being some ambitious Death Eater pretending, then he'll be looking for Harry eventually," Tonks fretted.
"Nelle and I will make certain that Harry is ready when that day comes," Munin promised. "Why, we have centuries of information to teach him."
Considering how old Munin looked, Tonks didn't doubt that for a second.
"In fact, he'll probably be begging for that pretentious idiot to attack once Nelle and I get his training going," Munin mused.
Tonks nodded, remembering her own grueling training. She just hoped that it would be enough.
End Tonks & Azkaban fragment.