Disclaimer: Ms Rowling is my hero. Anything you recognize belongs to her, even if I have taken a few liberties... She seems a good sport, though, doesn't she?

A/N: Once again, a hearty thank you to all who have reviewed (and to those who have read but not reviewed)! I'm trying to respond individually to all of you, but what with work, friends, family and impending out-of-state vacation, I'm not getting to it as quickly as I'd like. Rest assured, though, each review that lands in my inbox is petted and stroked until it lies in tatters.

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Virtual chocolate frogs to WiccaRowan for sharing an extremely fascinating slice of her life with us and for her invaluable beta skills. Grazie!

The Case Book of Auror (Third Class) Nymphadora Tonks
1994-1995

06 June 1994
23:55 Things are rather chaotic here at the moment. I want to make sure I've got a record of everything that is happening, so I've ducked into my cubicle to write this.

After Professor Snape (greasy bastard) Flooed, I had the dubious honour of waking up Minister Fudge and giving him the news. I've never seen anyone who wasn't a ghost turn quite that shade of grey before. Almost as soon as he finished stuttering at me, he Apparated directly into Auror Headquarters. I sounded the general alarm to bring all non-occupied teams to the office.

Kingsley Shacklebolt and his partner were the first to arrive – looking slightly ill. Guess that victim of Sirius Black's alleged seduction was better than I'd hoped! Kingsley gave me a strange look and told his partner to notify the warden of Azkaban. I piped up and told him I'd already done so. That and contacted the Dementor Liaison in Hogsmeade, told the Floo administrator to shut down all non-essential connections for the night and sent the necessary information to the portrait in the Muggle Prime Minister's office.

Kingsley just looked at me. I started to fidget a little. I couldn't tell if he was surprised, pleased or bloody well pissed off. Whatever he was, though, he didn't say anything.

Things happened pretty quickly after that. Two more teams arrived, Kingsley started barking orders, and Minister Fudge was just standing around being useless. The Dementor Liaison called to let us know that he couldn't account for more than half the contingent stationed around Hogwarts but had sent a Dementor up to the castle with Walden Macnair. Kingsley really started shouting then. He just left about five minutes ago for the school, Fudge in tow.

Right now, all the other Aurors are contacting members of the Wizengamot, calling in Hit Wizards for Sirius's transportation back to Azkaban ... and making bets as to whether he'll be Kissed right on the spot as soon as the Dementor has him in custody. For once, no one is giving me funny looks; I doubt they've even noticed I'm here tonight.

Oglesby is back on the grate for right now, so I think I'm just going to go down to the cafeteria for some more coffee. I don't think I can listen to them talking about Sirius and Dementors any more right now.

07 June 1994
00:01 Not that I don't think Sirius deserves whatever punishment the Wizengamot hands down, but I've seen what the Kiss does to people. I'm not sure I think anyone deserves that.

It's not that I'm against harsh sentences for the most heinous crimes, but the Kiss really goes above and beyond what I would consider humane treatment of criminals. After all, isn't it the point of punishing someone for their crime – that they've done something so far outside what is considered moral and right that they've lost all privileges granted to those of who haven't broken the social contract?

The Kiss, though... When a Dementor performs it outside the jurisdiction of the Ministry, it's considered an abomination. At the Ministry's directive, it's apparently all well and good.

I dunno. It's too late to be debating morality with myself.

Plus, I think I've a bit of childhood affection for Sirius muddying up the waters. Sometimes it's hard to remember that the cousin I adored from afar is this hardened criminal who's been on the run for the past year.

It's one thing to argue the merits of incarceration versus incapacitation during training classes for Magical Law. It's another thing entirely when one can still remember hugs and wrestling matches and bizarre but cherished birthday presents.

00:17 Oh, gods. He's escaped. Again. From a locked office several stories up, with no wand, inside an anti-Apparition zone and without anyone seeing him.

Kingsley just came back to the office and he is furious. As soon as he saw me, he asked the room if anyone could vouch for my whereabouts for the past twenty minutes. No one could, since I decided to skive off to the cafeteria. He's suspended me indefinitely (pending Scrimgeour's approval) and is sending me with another Auror – a guard ­– to my parents' house, where we're "to wait for further instructions".

Wonderful. Stupid bloody Sirius Black is ruining my life! Oh, how I'd love to get my hands on that bastard...

00:21 Oh, wonderful. How fan-bloody-tastic.

Really Hot Auror from my Stealth Trial is going to be my guard.

00:48 Really Hot Auror – his name is Rupert Wriothesley, by the way – let me stop off at the flat to pick up a few things before we went to Mum and Dad's. They were sleeping, of course, but once RHA explained why he was there, they woke up in a hurry. Dad kept RHA occupied in the living room ("Wriothesley? I knew a Michael Wriothesley back in Devon. Any relation?") while Mum pumped me for information in the kitchen. Wasn't much I could tell her beyond the basics and even that was hard to get out through my gritted teeth. When I got to the part about my suspension, she muttered, "We'll just see about that!" Mum isn't the type to send a Howler, but I wouldn't be surprised to learn that Scrimgeour received a very strongly worded letter sometime tonight.

I'm so tired and angry right now. I'd better get to bed before I end up raiding Dad's booze.

09:10 Didn't sleep much, kept tossing and turning. Stumbled into the kitchen for tea and scones (hair all over the place, face puffy, yawning) to find RHA calmly drinking tea and chatting with Mum. He looks like a million Galleons, even after no sleep. I, on the other hand, look like I was pulled through a hedgerow backwards. Bastard.

There were two Ministry owls waiting for me at the window. The first was from Kingsley Bloody Shacklebolt, "requesting" my presence in his office at half past three this afternoon. The other was from Rufus Scrimgeour, telling me that my suspension was denied but that I am on administrative leave until this matter is cleared up to his satisfaction. Mum looked a little shifty-eyed when I read that one aloud.

RHA thanked Mum for the tea and left not long after. Seems I don't need a personal guard after all.

10:34 Or maybe my hair frightened him off. I just went into the bathroom to clean up and ye gods! Note to self: remember to Morph hair into short, spiky style before bed. Long hair plus night of tossing and turning equals unflattering Medusa impersonation.

Mum and I are going shopping this morning. She says she needs to do something, else she'll end up shrieking like a banshee in the lobby of the Ministry. (She and Dad had their own owls this morning: Aurors will be stationed outside their home in the event that Sirius Black decides he'd like a family reunion.)

Dad's off to work, but he'll meet us for lunch at the Three Broomsticks. Mum's idea. Says if they're watching us, we might as well give them a good show. Apparently that means spending time near the last place Sirius was spotted. I dunno. But there's no arguing with her when she's in one of these moods.

Tried doing my hair in a shocking lime-green to brighten my mood, but I'm too upset to Morph right now. Guess I'm stuck with these blonde braids for a little while.

12:43 Feet ready to fall off. I think we've visited every single shop in both Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. Mum's bought so much stuff she's had to shrink it and send it home by Floo twice already.

We're waiting for Dad in the pub now. Rosmerta and Mum are catching up on gossip at the bar between customers and I'm people-watching. What? It's not being nosey; I'm practising my Observation and Investigation skills. Never going to get ahead in this job if I don't keep up on my training, right?

Plus, this is a game I've been playing since the first time I read a Sherlock Holmes story. Granted, he knew everything about everyone because Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was writing it all for him, but still... It really is a lot easier than it seems. If you pay attention to details, you can read a person's situation in life in little more than a glance. Dead useful when sizing up new acquaintances and objects of lust. Unfortunately, alcohol does more harm than good in the game – witness my short yet spectacular string of Utter Prat Ex-Boyfriends.

So, I'm just going to note the people in the pub, what they're doing/eating/drinking, make some preliminary conclusions and then pester Rosmerta into telling me about them. In a totally professional and not gossipy way, of course.

Subjects 1 and 2: Middle-aged couple: him – grey hair, goatee, thin; her – grey bouffant, flowered robes, overweight. She's got a gold ring on every finger. They're sharing a dish of berries with clotted cream and bottle of elf-made wine and touching far more than most married couples their age do. In public, anyway. She keeps peering at the door when anyone walks in. He's utterly relaxed, but seems to be paying more attention to the young brunette nearby.
Conclusion: They're having a none-too-discreet affair and he's ready to break it off. And she should really re-think that hairstyle.
Rosmerta says: Right on the Galleon. She's had that bouffant since 1983.

Subject 3: Young brunette sitting alone in a booth by the entrance, very pretty. Maybe two (three?) years out of school, although I don't recognize her at all. Is picking at a plate of lettuce while a heaping serving of shepherd's pie cools next to her elbow. (May have to confiscate lunch in the interests of food preservation. Clearly some kind of food abuse situation. Gods, I can smell it from here and my stomach won't stop growling.) Occasionally chews on rabbit food while watching the street outside or checking the clock above the bar.
Conclusion: Possibly foreign-born. Issues with tasty traditional British dishes, or eating disorder. Vegetarian? Most likely waiting for someone who is not going to show. Based on neglect of delicious fatty food, probably a wizard.
Rosmerta says: She's a clerk at Dervish and Banges and she's been eating lunch every day with a clerk (male) from Zonko's who apparently stood her up today. Was a student at Hogwarts (Hufflepuff) and has lost four stone since leaving!

Subject 4: Youngish blond wizard sitting at bar. Drinking small glass of brandy, no food. Reading parchments and stealing glances down Rosmerta's robe. Shock! He just checked out Mum's arse when she went to the ladies'!
Conclusion: On his lunch break from soul-destroying job. Also, git. Cute though, if clearly a perv.
Rosmerta says: Perv. Good tipper, though.

Subjects 5,6,7,8,9,10: Family – frazzled mum, five (!) children all under the age of ten, else they'd be up at the school. The two biggest children are having a food fight and the little one won't stop crying.
Conclusion: I'm never having children.
Rosmerta says: Those children are monsters.

Ooh, Dad's here! We can finally eat!

13:28 The pub's cleared out a bit, so Rosmerta's sitting with us when she can. She and Mum are reminiscing about school again. Dad throws in a quip or comment now and again but it's hard to get a word in edgewise around those two. I've been trying to listen, but I don't know any of the people they're gossiping about. Plus, every time Rosmerta leaves the table, Dad launches into this never-ending story about his desk at work, a bowl of porridge and the latest edition of Uncontrollable Magic and Inquisitive Muggles: Confundus Charms Are Your New Best Friend.

I dunno.

So, more observing!

Subject 11: There's an older man sitting at the bar now, steadily working his way through a sandwich, a bowl of soup, a salad and the largest slice of apple tart I've ever seen. He's got long white hair and a scraggly white beard. His eyebrows look like they're attacking his forehead. He keeps checking the time on the clock above the bar, shaking his head and shovelling food in his mouth.
Conclusion: Even Aberforth Dumbledore won't eat anything that comes out of his kitchen at the Hog's Head.
Rosmerta says: Nothing. Laughing quite hysterically at the idea of Aberforth cooking for himself.

Subject 12: Now this is a challenge: A man just walked in and sat at the smallest table in the farthest corner of the pub. He's wearing a frayed, patched cloak over a set of equally shabby robes. Good quality, though. Outfit was probably quite dashing when new, which was likely a decade ago based on the size of that cowl. He put a bulging bag secured with twine on the empty chair before opening his menu. He's got shaggy light brown hair with more than a few streaks of grey, but his face is really quite young-looking. And he just caught me staring, so I'm going to pretend to be listening to Dad now...

13:45 This is really getting annoying. I can't stop looking at the wizard in the corner and every time I do, he looks me straight in the eye. He knows I'm watching him! What kind of Auror am I if I can't even manage a bit of harmless ogling? I mean observing. I'm not ogling!

…

Really. Not ogling. He looks like he just crawled out of a sick bed, for Merlin's sake. And he's far too thin for my tastes. Nothing like a skinny bloke to make one's arse look twice as wide. Plus, I'd be worried that I'd crush him if I were on –

What! I did not just think that! Must concentrate on professional observations!

Subject 12, continued: Thin. Looks ill. Healthy appetite, though. Has made quick work of a large corned beef sandwich and a glass of milk (odd choice for an adult). Rosmerta keeps hovering over his table, urging him to "eat up, dear". They had a bit of an argument a few moments ago. Speaking very softly so couldn't make out what they were saying, but did hear her tell him not to be such a child and that she'd "put it on the (mumble) account". He blushed a bit at that. He looks much better with colour in his cheeks and even younger with that slight smile... (Professional!) Medium height. Very pale. Overall, not much to look at BUT I CAN'T STOP LOOKING!
Conclusion: Probably works in Hogsmeade (hence the "account"), but not a well-paying job. Or he has a huge family at home and doesn't have much in the way of money for luxuries. Rosmerta knows him well, meaning he visits here often or she's known him a long time. He's not old enough to be a classmate and surely he'd dress better if he worked for the school. I think I might actually be at a loss here.

He does look vaguely familiar though. May have to do some digging.

14:24 Back at my flat to get ready for meeting with Kingsley. Hair won't Morph so I'm still stuck with blonde braids. Argh! Wanted to do a more dignified style and colour to better demonstrate my professional self. Will have to settle for dressing in drabbest robes. Luckily, have a set left from aborted apothecary apprenticeship.

Why I ever thought I'd be able to manage working in a shop stocked from floor to ceiling with crystal phials, I'll never know.

15:37 Arrived for meeting with Kingsley Bloody Shacklebolt more than twenty minutes ago and I'm still waiting to be called in. Wanker.

Rosmerta wouldn't tell me anything about that skinny bloke in the pub. She did say that she knew him when he was a student, then she and Mum exchanged looks and Dad changed the subject. Am intrigued.

19:21 Strangest thing ever. Just as I was ready to break down the door of the conference room and start demanding answers, Kingsley walked out –

WITH THE BLOKE FROM THE PUB!

He didn't look as ill as he did at lunch. Bit more colour in his face. He and Kingsley seemed very serious and grim when they walked out, but then Kingsley gave him a one-armed man-hug (you know, no body contact, lots of back pounding, et cetera). Weird.

So Kingsley just walked back into the conference room, ignoring me completely, and the skinny bloke started toward me. He was reading some scroll he carried in one hand and managing to walk in a straight line while he did it. Am jealous.

Just as Slim (as I shall now call him) drew even with where I was sitting, Kingsley opened the door again, beckoned me inside and walked back in without bothering to see if I jumped at his command. I tried to calmly and gracefully stand up and walk across the office, but my foot got caught on the hem of my robe, my wand went flying and I did an incredibly embarrassing arm-flailing somersault that ended with me lying arse-over-teakettle against the far wall with a potted plant resting in the small of my back.

And I think I gave a most undignified squeal when I landed. Joy.

Heads popped up over cubicle walls all through the office like some demented zoo animal colony. Was only slightly mortified at once again demonstrating my utter inability to control my body. Gave a cheery wave to the office in general and started to put myself (and the plant) to rights when suddenly there was a hand in my face. It was Slim, offering to help me up.

Wanted to die.

He's really much stronger than he looks. Pulled me to my feet with little visible effort. And when I put my hand on his arm to steady myself, it felt like I was grasping a tree limb. A skinny one, yeah, but very solid. And nice. Er, not that I was feeling him up or anything. Just a passing observation.

Anyway, he brushed a leaf from my shoulder and said, in a voice clearly meant to carry through the office, "So that's how one does a Redcap Roll! Thank you for demonstrating it for me, Miss..."

I stuttered out, "Tonks, Nym- Auror Tonks."

He smiled at me then and I swear my mind went totally blank. I have no earthly idea what he said next, but all the faces sank back below the partitions and he left before I recovered enough to ask him his name. Walked into Kingsley's office and completely missed the first five minutes of whatever he said to me.

So much for professional.

Meeting didn't go too badly once I managed to shake off my daze. Am reinstated officially and start back to work on Monday. Kingsley even mentioned a possible job transfer, but I dunno. It was all very vague.

I don't think he suspects me of having anything to do with Sirius anymore. He kept saying something about appearances versus reality, which I took at first to be a dig at my abilities, but by the third time he repeated himself, I realized I had no idea what he was talking about. Kept giving me significant looks, but couldn't bring self to ask what he was saying so just nodded and smiled faintly.

Oh, flibbertigibbet! I'm supposed to meet everyone in less than an hour and I'm still in these awful robes. Wonder if I'm in a good enough mood to pull off Town Tonks tonight?

41:70 Haff bess frens in world. Hexy's gonna bugger 'Melia Bones! Wait... not right... He's gonna put a bug 'n her ear. Mebbe bugger too. Dunno. Eye won' open 'n ink gone all swimmy. Hes gonna tell 'er I hate Siriuss more'n most people. Hexy's wonnerful. I'd marry 'im if he licked witches 'stead of wiz'rds.

Hee hee! Licked!

Rilly Hawt- Rupert! He wants me t'call him Rupert! He's rilly hawt. Think I love 'im. Showed up at th' Hogs Head tonight. Bought m'drinks all night 'n no rick... reqw... askin' fer bigger boobs.