Wrongful Imprisonment: By Thoughts and Pondering.

Chapter Seven: The Dementors.

He blinked slightly as Fiona bade them good-bye, reminding them to come back in a week's time for a mandatory check up. Remus put a hand on the handle of James's wheelchair, and Tonks said, "I have to go to work. Won't that be fun? Seriously, we aren't doing anything...except paperwork...Are you all right to go without me? Oh, and did you remember to send the Dusrley's that owl with the letter, so they know Harry hasn't been abducted by aliens or some other nonsense like that?" As she spoke, she changed her hair back to dark brown, hanging halfway down her back. Her eyes became honey coloured. Remus smiled. These were her natural looks. Remus had only seen her like this a few times before, but he thought she looked nicer when her hair didn't resemble a pink cactus.

"The Minister doesn't like it if we come to work in 'disguise'." Tonks explained her reasoning behind turning her hair back. "Our appearances are meant to match the picture on our Auror qualifications." Tonks smoothed out the robe she was wearing.

Remus nodded, clutching on to James's wheelchair so hard that Tonks was half afraid the handle would break off. Tonks said her goodbyes to James, Remus and Harry, and Apparated her way out of the hospital. The room spun, the way it might spin if one had been spinning in circles for an hour, or if they were very drunk. Somehow, in this in-between place from the leaving point, to the Apparating point, she shuddered. She disliked Apparating. However, it was essential for an Auror to have their Apparating licence. It was part of their job, after all. Unbidden, her first Apparating lesson came to mind.

"Splinching happens when the mind is insufficiently determined. Arriving at the wrong location happens when the mind is not fully focused on the destination...deliberation is needed..."

As her feet hit solid ground and opened her eyes and found herself in one piece and right next to Atrium in the Ministry of Magic, she deliberated that whatever deliberation was needed for wasn't important.

"You have wonderful timing, Miss Tonks." Tonks didn't realised she was being spoken to for a couple of seconds; no one had called her Miss Tonks since her school days. She wheeled around, and saw Dolores Umbridge looking up at her. Next to her was a rather sweaty looking woman, though whether the sweat was from physical activity or fear, it was quite hard to tell. Perhaps a mixture of both. She was about forty years old, with short cropped blonde hair, and murky coloured eyes. She was wearing a white Muggle T-shirt, and blue shorts. Tonks finally recognized her, as Amy Lythdan, editor of the Daily Prophet. Why she was wearing Muggle clothing in the Ministry of Magic was a good question, but looking at how stressed and anxious she looked, she had come here in a hurry.

Looking from Amy to Umbridge and back to Amy, in the politest voice she could muster, she asked, "What is it you want, Minister?"

Umbridge eyes narrowed slightly as she looked at the tall blonde woman standing beside her. "Mrs. Lythdan here is under the impression she saw two Dementors gliding through a Muggle area just short of an hour ago."

Making sure she chose her words carefully in front of Umbridge, as there were a couple of rumours going around the Wizarding community including her and Cornelius Fudge, the most ridiculous of which was that she was secretly having an affair with him. All of the rumours were intended to be taken with a grain of salt, but you could never be too careful... "Have you ensured that all the Dementors are in place at Azkaban?" she asked the Minister, looking curiously at Amy all the while.

Umbridge stared at her for a second and then stumbled into a sentence. "I-well...no, I don't think that's really necessary. Miss Tonks, I want you to retrieve the Obliviator Squad, and while you're at it, contact the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee. Mrs. Lythdan here is of the opinion that a teenage, Muggle boy received the Dementor's Kiss. While that, in it's self, is not an important issue..." Amy cast her a horrified look.

Tonks had seen the Daily Prophet editor pass by her on numerous occasions, but she was always calm and business like, and was never like this. Umbridge, however, did not see this look, and continued rattling on,"...the more important issue is that these Dementors have obviously been, well, not seen by these boys, but more sensed. They have broken the Statute of Secrecy, and these Dementors must be found before they threaten the magical community." Amy nodded, hastily pushing strands of blonde-grey hair behind her ears. She looked like she was about to burst into tears.

"But what will we do with them? Send them to Azkaban? You can't kill a Dementor." Tonks sighed and looked at the ground. It was in an Auror's job description to be a Dark Wizard catcher, not a Dark Creature one. But most people associated Dementors with Aurors. Aurors were the ones who kept the Azkaban patrols...making sure the Dementors did their jobs...yes, it really was an Auror's job, no matter how much it wasn't in their job description.

Amy did burst into tears at this, sniffling noisily. "That boy's as good as dead!" she exclaimed hysterically.

Umbridge smiled a wide-mouthed smile, and put a hand around Amy's shoulder in what was probably meant to be an attempt to reassure her. "Mrs. Lythdan, it is probable this is all just a figment of your imagination! There are no Dementors outside Ministry control, and why on earth would the Ministry order two Dementors to be away from their posts in Azkaban?" she laughed, her voice sounded like it had been coated in honey and sugar for an hour, thrown into an oven and then overcooked.

After given her sentence further thought, her face hardened. Her voice suddenly harsh, she exclaimed, "It must be Kingsley Shacklebolt! He's in charge of the hunt for Sirius Black...and he must be trying to discredit me! He would have the authority to order those Dementors into that Muggle suburb..." she trailed off, looking quite odd. Her wide eyes shifted warily from Tonks's straight poker face, to Amy's crying one. "Well, that's enough of that!" she shouted. Tonks looked behind her to see if anyone was there and could have heard. But the Ministry was as deserted as it usually was at this time of night. Only Aurors and the Daily Prophet team worked this late. Sometimes the Department of Magical Law Enforcement did go this late, as well as the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts, but it seemed like tonight was not one of those nights.

"Is it possible He Who Must Not Be Named has gotten to the Dementors?" Amy asked rubbing her eyes. "Because were done for if he has!" she continued hysterically.

Umbridge openly glared at Amy, and said, her voice back to its honey-baked style, "Miss Tonks, it is quite obvious that Mrs. Lythdan here has been having some strong hallucinations. I want you to escort her to St. Mungo's immediately, but I must ask one more question of her before she leaves." Her voice lowered as if she did not want to be overheard, as if there were actually other people there. Turning to the hysterical, red-eyed woman, she asked, "Where were you when you saw this mirage?"

Amy shook her head, as if disagreeing with Umbridge that it was a mirage, or a hallucination, but she still answered the question. "I was on Magnolia Crescent, in Little Whinging, walking my uncle's energetic Jack Russell. It was his birthday...and then I saw them...the Dementors! I tried to create a Patronus, but I couldn't think of anything happy enough...and that boy...Merlin...that boy. I swear...he was the size of a baby whale...but the Dementor...it just went forward...and...Kissed him! I think I just stood there in shock, for a while... I was so frightened...I Apparated here..."

Umbridge was looking at her sceptically. "You are aware that preforming magic in front of Muggles in a criminal offence, Mrs. Lythdan?" Her face was contorted into a cruel smile.

Amy gasped, and said, "But...that Muggle was going to die!"

Tonks looked behind her again, but there was still no one there. Feeling decidedly paranoid, she turned back to Umbridge.

"Mrs. Lythdan, it seems like you need some time to rest. Miss Tonks, why don't you escort Mrs. Lythdan here to St. Mungo's? I hear there are some talented psychiatrists there, Fiona O'Loghlin, for instance, or Andrew Amyller?"

Her eyes opened wider at the sound of Andrew's name, and Amy shook her head again, and started to open her mouth, but then shut it again. "I..."

Tonks took a sweeping look at the gold banded watch she was wearing on her wrist, and mumbled, "I'm late for work."

Umbridge smiled again, and her face looked scary in the dim light of the Atrium. "I'll tell Scrimgeour you're going to be late." She let out a high-pitched, girlish giggle and said; "Now off you go!"

Holding on to Amy's arm, Tonks led her to the fireplace. She found the pot of Floo Powder and took out some of the green powder. Careful not to drop any, she asked Amy, "Would you like to go first?"

Amy nodded gratefully, stood in the grate and threw the powder into the fire. "St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries." The emerald green flames flared up, and Amy disappeared out of Tonks's view. Grabbing a fistful of Floo Powder, she copied her.

She didn't like Apparating, and Floo Powder definitely wasn't her favourite way to travel either. Tucking her elbows in tight, and doing her best not to open her mouth before she arrived at her destination, she arrived in the waiting room coughing and spluttering. She walked over to the Welcome Witch's desk, where said shift worker was dozing peacefully, her head lying on top of her crossed arms. Amy was already standing beside the desk, blowing her nose with a handkerchief.

Not willing to wake her up suddenly, she cleared her throat, and whispered, "Excuse me?"

The Welcome Witch showed no sign of stirring, and Tonks resisted the urge to pull on her long black hair and demand she wake up. She had to admit, it was probably pretty boring waiting here for people to come. No-one usually came at night, unless there was an emergency. The only people here at night were the night Healers, taking care of the patients, and the patients themselves.

Most of the staff here were most likely restless, since they had been here the whole day, since the strike had started when the shifts changed, making sure there were as many workers there as possible. Realising there was a small, gold coloured hand bell sitting on the desk, which she hadn't seen at first because it was partly obscured by her hair. Regretting having to do so, she rang the bell loudly in the unfortunate woman's ear.

"Wha?" The Welcome Witch awoke with a start. Surprised that there was actually any-one here in the waiting room this early in the morning, she yawned and said sleepily, "Good morning, welcome to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. How may I help you?"

"Er…yes…I think she's," she gestured to Amy who was still making small sobbing sounds, "I think she's come across some Dementors."

The Welcome Witch flicked her hair behind her back and sighed. She wearily bent down and opened a drawer in her desk, re-emerging with a bar of chocolate in her hand. "Eat this."

Unwrapping the metallic silver packaging on the chocolate, Amy clumsily fed herself a block of chocolate. She offered some to Tonks, but she shook her head.

She approached the Welcome Witch again, and whispered, "I think the Minister wanted her checked out by a psychologist or something. Seemed to think she might have some sort of psychological problem or something." Tonks sort of nudged the woman in the shoulder, because she looked liable to fall asleep again any minute.

She sighed again in a way that seemed to say, 'isn't the chocolate enough?' but she kindly refrained from putting her head in her hands. "Spell Damage. Fourth Floor. Ana Moon ward."

"Thank-you. We'll be on our way now." Seizing Amy by the arm again, she led the sniffling woman through the door up. Working her way up to the fourth floor, she felt frustrated. Hadn't she walked up here before? Hadn't she just left here? Had the Healers (the day shift ones, at least) gone straight home with hearts full of happiness with their increased salaries. She had been at the Ministry for half an hour, tops. How could the clutter in the waiting room have been cleaned, how could have the patients, (though there wasn't really that many at this time of year) been moved back into their rooms in that time? Well, she could think of one word for her rather rhetorical question, and that word was magic. The Healer's really hadn't missed a spot, had they? Keeping up with their stringent hygiene standards, there was not even a stain on the carpet.

The brightly lit hallways did not help much either. She felt like every replenished candle was watching her, like she was doing something wrong. She felt like they were talking into her ears. But candles were only ever candles, and didn't have eyes, ears or mouths, and couldn't be doing anything of the sort.

Once again in front of the Ana Moon ward, she raised a fist to knock at the door. Remembering the last time she was here, (about two hours ago) and what had occurred there, she grimaced. Hoping it wasn't dark, and whoever was inside was awake, she knocked on the door.

No answer yet again.

Attributing this to the person inside being asleep, she cautiously turned the wooden door handle. "Hello?" she called out, "is someone there?"

"Who's that?" asked a drowsy male voice from beyond the door.

Not stopping to think about how ridiculous it sounded, she responded, "It's me. I'm escorting a patient, Amy Lythdan." She pushed the door open, and opened with slight creak. She stepped into the room, pulling Amy along behind her.

She saw the cheerful figure of Andrew Amyller sitting on one of the chairs in the deserted ward. "Hello Me," he said, his small cloudy blue eyes twinkling. As Amy followed her through the door, Amyller gasped, and jumped out of his chair. "Amy! You were meant to be visiting Uncle Sam tonight! What on earth happened?"

"She came across some Dementors while she was walking a dog." Amy nodded, confirming this story.

"Hmm..." he muttered, rubbing his roughly cut brown beard, "Did you have any chocolate?"

Amy nodded, and showed Amyller the wrapper of the chocolate bar. She looked a little bit happier now she had consumed the chocolate.

"The Minister think she may be delusional." Tonks pointed out to Amyller, so he could see exactly where this conversation was.

Amy sat down on the bed catiously, looking warily at Amyller.

"Don't worry big sis, I'll take care of you, lie down."

Amy made a small attempt at a smile, and lay down on top of the white sheets of the hospital bed. Amyller looked at Tonks as if he had just for the first time truly realised she was there, and whispered, "The Minister thinks an awful lot of herself, but don't tell her I said that!"

After reassuring Amyller that she wouldn't tell Umbridge, she set off to walk downstairs again to Apparate. In St. Mungo's it was only possible to Apparate and Disapparate from the waiting room. She made her way back downstair, and upon doing so, saw that the Welcome Witch was asleep yet again, this time snoring rather loudly. She smiled and Apparated back to Atrium. The Ministry had similar Apparation wards to St. Mungo's, with one difference. The Ministry's ones fell down more often for no apparent reason. Even in the first war, no Death Eaters had attacked St. Mungo's in a group. They had just inflirated the Healers.

Loosing her balance upon arriving at her destination, she tried to steady herself. Tripping over her own feet, she fell flat on her back, hitting it hard on the rich wooden floorboards in the Atrium. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the peacock blue ceiling above her and stood back to her feet, not before tying her shoelace.

She made her way to the lift, and entered it. She hastily pressed the button for level one, and it descended. Shejust waited, and watched the three inter-departmentalmemos flit above her head. She smiled as one that someone had folded into the shape of a swan flew past her eyes. Some people here liked origami, she deduced.

"...the Department of Magical Law Enforcement." Tonks realised with a halt that the lift had stopped. Not waiting for the lady to finish announcing the floor, she stepped out into the narrow hallway leading to the Auror cubicles. Before she could move to her cubicle, at the very end of the row, (she was the newest Auror, and only one of two females currently employed as an Auror).

"Tonks, I've been waiting for you." Scrimgeour limped slowly towards her, looking a bit hassled. It was hard to tell though, since his tawny hair lay on his head perfectly as it always did, and his wire rimmed glasses were perched in their rightful place on his nose.

"I'm sorry, I thought the Minister was to tell you I was to be late." Tonks uneasily smoothed out her robes. She disliked talking to Scrimgeour. There was something about him that just made you feel like he always had to be right.

"She did. I was still waiting for you, though. I have a job for you." He leant against his cubicle door. Being the Head Auror, his cubicle was bigger, nicer, and otherwise fancier than all the other Aurors. It should be, considering the amount of time he spent in there.

"A job for me? What do you mean by that?" She nervously scuffed the floor with the tip of her show, and took a glance out the window, and decided the Magical Maintanince people had been drinking--there was heavy sunlight streaming through the window.

"I want you to track down the victims of the Dementor attacks in Surrey. The ones that have suffered from the Kiss." That made sense. Scrimgeour was holding a chocolate bar in his hand. He was also allergic to chocolate. But one thing didn't make sense.

"Victims?" she asked faintly. "As in more than one?"

"Yes, as in at least four. We're trying to make sure it doesn't get into the Prophet either." He withdrew an embroided handkerchief from his pocket, and wiped his glasses.

"But...Amy's the editor of the Prophet..."

Scrimgeour suddenly knocked on his cubicle door loudly, scaring Tonks half out of her wits. "The walls have ears, and doors have eyes. Things may be figments of people's imaginations, but this is not it. This is news. The Prophet is bound to try and break any interesting news stories. They will find out about this, all in due course. The important thing is we find those Muggles, even though there's really not much good we can do for them. They're pretty much dead now. It's like having a shell with no peanut inside. Not quite pleasing." He grimaced, and handed Tonks the chocolate.

"That's if you come across the Dementors while trying to find the victims."

Tonks sighed, and asked, "Do I have to wear the Auror Robes?" She really hoped she didn't. Those things were disgusting. A vivid purple bordered with yellow, those things had been out since the start of Hogwarts. And to make it even more potentially embarrassing for whomever was unfortunate enough to have to wear them, they were only used if there was business in the Muggle world.

"No, no, fortunately not." He chuckled at the relieved look on Tonks's face. "If you ever have to wear them on an expedition to the Muggle world, just be glad you're not male. Look, you better get going before the number increases. Here, I'll give you a Portkey. I'm counting on you Tonks, you said you wanted to do more field work. I need your report, because the Minister--" he cast a wary look at the lift, "is not very helpful. But I think now comes the time to accept that He Who Must Not Be Named is back, and we as Aurors..."

"It's our job." Tonks finished the sentence for him.

He nodded, and gave Tonks the crumpled parchment he had just bewitched. "Remember, this is your first real field job. Do you remember the Patronus Charm?"

Tonks nodded. She hadn't practiced the charm against areal Dementorsince she got her licence, but she was still pretty good at it.

"I wish you a good morning."

Tonks nodded, and counted down the Portkey. Hard to believe a few hours before hand she was in a good mood. And remembering Umbridge's varying facial expressions, it was hard to believe she wasn't involved as well.

The room spun dizzingly again, and she felt sick. What would you call it, Portsick? She stood down in a brightly lit suburban street. The first uneasing thing she noticed is that every house looked identical to the one beside it. The second thing was that it seemed like another unfortunate Muggle seemed to be losing his soul to a Dementor, just away the corner, and she could just see.

Tonks felt like she was about to be sick. She didn't think it should be called the Dementor's 'Kiss.' It was more like it was sucking his face off, really. But in slang terms, that meant exactly the same thing.

The third uneasing thing she noticed is that this was the Muggle her and Remus had talked to when they picked Harry up. He was wearing the same jogging costume, and with the energetic Jack Russell. And the fourth thing, which made her feel even worse, was that with a sudden, horrible, realization is that it must be Amy's Uncle Sam.

Without even thinking, she rushed forward. She had to stop that Dementor, had to. Running down to the Dementor, she raised her wand, and called, "Expecto Patronum!"

Problem number one: She couldn't think of anything happy. Problem number two: The other Dementor was gaining on her, and she didn't have anytime to raise anything in defense. Not that she had anything. Although if she was really despertate, she could use the bar of chocolate as a shield of some sort.

But she felt the effects of the Dementors come on, and she was suddenly devoid of happy memories. Forcing the words to roll off her tongue, she chanted slowly, "E-expect...P-patronum..." Wisps of silver shot out of the edge of her wand, but that didn't stop her. She remembered now. Dementors affected her very badly, even though she may not have more horrible memories than other people.

Feeling strangely depressed, she dropped to her knees, and scrunched her eyes tight. She could hear voices in her head. If voices were the first sign of madness, what was the second?

"You're useless. You won't get anywhere. Send me a check from your ground kissing job when you get one, if you get one. You don't have the motivation. You're worthless! YOU'RE UNTEACHABLE! I REFUSE TO DO THIS!" Some kind words from her Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher in seventh year.

For some reason, she couldn't make out the rest. It was like an out of tune radio. But she could still feel like she was going to lose conciousness. But two words, as clear as jagged crystals, shot through her mind.

"MINISTER, NO!"

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Thoughts and Pondering.