Thanks Paul for the review. Time to get Andromeda and Narcissa out of their comfort zones.


The cool air hummed with layers of wards and enchantments. Long rows of clean, well-lit rooms lined the windowless corridors of the Ministry's dungeons. House-elves tended to the few disgruntled-looking occupants awaiting trial, but nobody seemed in any particular distress. Most of the detainees would be released within a day or two, charged a fine and have their magic monitored for a few weeks.

"Cordelia asked for me specifically?" Andromeda asked.

"Ms. Rivers said she'd talk only if I came myself, accompanied by one or more mages who knew her and who could magically stand up to me."

Kingsley's bass voice struck the right note between authoritative and soothing. He stood close but not awkwardly so, his dark eyes crinkled and posture relaxed. It would be a lie to pretend Andromeda was immune to the man's warmth. Unlike many, Kingsley didn't make her feel like she had to prove herself.

Kingsley slowed, his expression grim. "We didn't know. It was the Order's mission to be aware of crimes The Prophet hid, and we were blind to all these people. How?"

"You watched out for muggleborn. You focused on crimes perpetuated by Death Eaters. You couldn't be everywhere."

Muggleborn at least, even those who'd been pushed out of the magical community, had attended Hogwarts. The Order of the Phoenix knew them, if only as names on a list. Cordelia Rivers was on no list: not Hogwarts', not the Ministry's : she'd never been employed by anyone but herself, never had a vault at Gringott's, never taken an international portkey. Perhaps, somewhere, an old parchment recorded that she had passed four OWLs.

"You can't expect to know what goes on in those communities when you surround yourself with people who take attending Hogwarts for granted and consider the Weasleys their poorest acquaintances." It wasn't hard to keep her tone gentle. For an old family pureblood, Kingsley was remarkably open-minded.

The dark-skinned wizard inclined his head ruefully. "Take pity on me, Madam. I'm only the helmsman. I need the rowers' cooperation to go anywhere. The boat will sink if I throw too many of them overboard at once." His smile vanished. "Why couldn't I find so much as a record of complaint? Over a dozen murders, Andromeda, or as good as. Why were none reported?"

"They resent the Ministry and don't trust aurors." Andromeda's jaw hardened. "I'm not surprised."


1977, 23 years ago – 6 months after Andromeda's elopement

Thick gray clouds blotted out the afternoon sun. Under the living-room's lights' glow Andromeda leafed through the cookbook, searching for inspiration for tomorrow's dinner. Her and Ted's incompetence at household charms was something to behold. Their first attempt at making the floors and furniture self-dusting had filled the house with such violent gusts of wind two windows had exploded. Turns out, when you designed a spell to vanish everything smaller than a crumb, you vanished air itself. Light magic was irritatingly literal.

Thuds in the garage announced Edward's presence. Amusement blunted the edge of Andromeda's frustration. Ted had just laughed away their disastrous cleaning-up attempt. He'd been dead impressed by the anti-apparition wards she'd cast everywhere around the house (garage exempted), but those were only a weaker version of manor wards.

No, Andromeda regretted nothing.

Two grocery bags floated to the table next to her, soon followed by Ted and a strong fragrance of almond and gardenia. Hyacinth Tugwood, a perfumes maker, had Ted scour every muggle luxury shop in the Isles to buy perfumes for 'inspiration'. He was overqualified and underpaid, but muggleborn couldn't be too choosy these days.

A grin dug into Ted's cheeks as he realized what book she was scowling at.

"I bought eggs, ham and cheese. There's no way we can fail at scrambled eggs. But first, I want to try to roast this chicken." A fat beheaded chicken flew for the kitchen. "We need to somehow make electronics work around magic, Meda. Trust me, an electric oven would change our life. We'd get rich too: think of all the mixed families who'd love to get the best of both worlds."

"You're saying that might take us less time than learning how to not char a chicken?" Ted's smile was infectious and she had to laugh. Morgana, they both had six NEWTs! How hard could this be?

Her husband (husband! Sometimes she couldn't quite believe this was her life now.) pulled out a wide rectangular box out of the second bag. "Your late Christmas present."

Present? Andromeda curiously took the box out of his hands. Ted came back every week with a book or two borrowed from his friends (marrying a Ravenclaw had been a brilliant move), but he wasn't otherwise that much of a gifter.

The parcel held fabric. Dark green velvet winter robes unfolded in her hands.

"I can't afford Twilfitt and Tattings," Ted said (as if they'd even serve a muggleborn), "so it's muggle-made, but they copied the style pretty well. The seamstress was convinced we were planning a pagan-themed party."

Robes. "Have I given you the impression you can woo me with pretty clothes?"

Ted grinned. "You look hot in both bohemian dresses and jeans, but you don't have to wear them. Your family is the one who has a problem with who you are. I'm fine with you being pureblood and everything."

Andromeda wilted. Price wasn't the question : for shopping in muggle stores, they just summoned bills out of cash dispensers, making sure to often change dispenser and not take too much. But she'd thought she'd gotten the hang of muggle clothes. She hadn't realized Edward had noticed that she struggled to recognize the witch in the mirror these days.

"I can't go dressed like this to work." Like she was rich and above everybody else.

"Sure you can. You're free now, Meda. Wear whatever you like."

A smile on her lips, Andromeda changed with three swishes of her wand. Increasingly often, she caught herself thinking : I think I may love him.

She was still smiling when she apparated at 'work'. It had been six months since she'd taken the name Tonks. Six months of trying to figure out what one did when they were free to take their own path but had no allies and owned almost nothing.

Ted had scoured Black Country in the West Midlands as they'd planned their elopement. Coal mine after coal mine had closed in the last decades, leaving ghost towns behind. Nobody had set foot in the house he'd found for them since the early seventies, but it was nothing magic couldn't fix. Oh, charms alone didn't make a sturdy dwelling, but just having a place that was theirs was amazing.

Property laws were more stringent for businesses than living quarters, so they'd decided to acquire a second building by the rules. They'd found a small but serviceable house nearby for sale, and the seller, a harried-looking muggle father of four, hadn't said a word when they'd given him a trunk full of paper money.

A few more weeks and it'd make a suitable workshop, (or office, Andromeda wasn't quite sure what it would look like, but she was very proud of it). Other people might have found the narrow two-story brick house, stuck in a row of windswept identical houses in various states of disrepair, uninviting, but to Andromeda it was freedom and the future.

Her new robes whipped by the autumn wind, she stilled. Three figures stood in front of the building. Her hold tightened on her wand. Those weren't muggles. Her eyes swept her surroundings and found two more wizards, older men in bulky red-brown robes : local mages. They, like her, were staring warily at the three.

How long had they been here? Why hadn't the intruder alarm alerted her? The workshop was less carefully warded than their new home but -

Wariness gave way to horror as she tore her eyes from the three to look at her workshop. Water seeped from under the door. The outer wall bulged outwards, soaked through. They'd flooded -

A male magically-enhanced voice boomed through the empty street. "Now look who's here! Tonks, come forward!"

Summanus Higgs. From a distance, Andromeda hadn't recognized him. He'd been three years above her at Hogwarts, Slytherin, from a pure and proper family. An auror.

Wordlessly, she coated herself in a protective shield and stiffly strode forward. Three aurors, their badges flashing on their robes. What official business could they have with her?

"We detected suspicious magic use on an unlicensed building. To protect the Statute of Secrecy, we shut it down. The locals will think there was a plumbing leak."

"You haven't shut it down, you've destroyed it," Andromeda spluttered, too shocked to keep her voice steady. "We owled our permit!"

"Mudbloods need a pureblood partner to open a business. Your paperwork was invalid."

Andromeda was suddenly glad she was not in jeans anymore. Her jaw clenched, she pointedly raised her eyebrows at Higgs.

His lips twisted in a mocking smile. "Your right to use the Black name has been rescinded. You chose to be a mudblood, Tonks. We'll owl you the cost of our intervention. Perhaps you should rethink opening a spellcrafting business, it sounds suspiciously like illegal Dark Arts." His eyes were cold as his smile broadened. "I'd hate to have to cart you and that husband of yours to Azkaban, Tonks." Again, he drew out her name, as if hammering a nail in a thick wooden coffin.

The aurors disapparated, leaving Andromeda to stare at the remains of the almost-workshop she'd poured so many dreams into. She lifted her arm but stopped before the vanishing spell could cross her lips. What was the point? And what if they fined her for interfering?

She'd not used standard alarm-wards yet they'd unraveled all her spells without her even noticing.

A mudblood. Andromeda couldn't breathe. And billed? How much?

Slowly, her shock gave way to bitter anger. What a fool she made. Of course her family would strike back.

Mudblood.

Slowly, it sunk in. It wasn't just her parents. This was legal. The Ministry would not protect her.


Back to the present

"You deserved none of it. I'm sorry. It's shameful that none of us so much as asked whether you were being harassed."

Andromeda swallowed back a laugh, afraid it would be misinterpreted. What was she to do with a sincere apology? It had been such a long time ago.

"Cordelia is a beekeeper and self-taught herbalist," she said instead. "Occasionally, she'd get extorted by mages demanding she hand over her stock, or they'd call aurors to close down her tea-shop on grounds of unauthorized brewing: she doesn't have a Herbology NEWT. She hired Ted and I in '94 to cast wards that would make any thief viciously allergic to her herbs and fungi, and cause the plants to wither once resold." Andromeda was keenly aware she was herself admitting to a crime: wards which actively harmed those who triggered them, as opposed to simply keeping people out, were illegal (except if said wards had been erected before the 1876 law had passed, something every manor-owner was happy to point out whenever a gruesome incident occurred).

"Surely you didn't charge her less than the cost of a year of tutoring and the NEWT exam fee?"

"Not less, but not all that much more. Besides, few things revolt the traditionalist poor more than the idea of paying for the right to keep doing what their families have been doing for centuries. We all suspect the extortionists of working for the Spores," the wealthiest, and most established herbalists in England. "The Wizengamot would never have sided with Cordelia. Word is the attack came from the Spores' people, who didn't take well to being thwarted."

"What attack?" Kingsley swallowed a sigh at Andromeda's expression. "I told you, Rivers has refused to talk and I learned nothing through my people. You speak of a tea-shop -"

"In Berkshire, yes. It was criminally destroyed in '96, after Fudge had resigned and aurors worked day and night to make the Ministry, Diagon Alley and all the important places and people safe." Andromeda forced her thoughts away from the war. Even now, some things remained too raw to untangle. "You said you had a dilemma. What did Cordelia do that your Gryffindor sense of justice struggles to consider a crime?"

Kingsley met her quip with eyebrows raised in challenge and a crinkle in his eyes. Andromeda had to smile.

There was soon nothing light about Kingsley's expression. "Four obliviators have been legilimized and had all memories of their parents, children and spouses removed. Rivers claims that those people had themselves obliviated others to mindlessness."

Andromeda had known about the memory charms used as a war weapon. It didn't keep her from flinching. Cordelia had been a bubbly old lady with a good eye for people who needed a listening ear and a gift for encouraging gossip. Dangerous was not a word Andromeda would ever had used to describe her. Not before, at least.

"We destroyed the dementors!" Kingsley suddenly exclaimed. "Torture, altering people's minds... this must become the past! We don't need it, and it is beneath us. But I mustn't be hypocritical : the Order committed crimes, and I believe most of them were necessary. We can say 'it was war', but truth is, people wouldn't treat us like heroes so easily if our most controversial members weren't conveniently dead."

Quite. Had Severus Snape survived to be tried... Albus Dumbledore had taken a thousand secrets to his grave, and Alastor Moody had dirtier hands than many Death Eaters. Even Nymphadora, for whom Mad-Eye had been as dear as an Uncle, had not been privy to half of what the grizzled ex-auror had been up to.

Cordelia Rivers was in one of the holding rooms. Seated on a white-leather armchair, the wandless witch looked to be in her hundredth year. She was slight, almost too-thin, with dozens of copper bracelets and long colorful robes.

A shudder ran down Andromeda's spine. The Cordelia she remembered had had ringlets of silver-and-brown hair and wrinkled skin riddled with a herb-gatherer's spiderweb of burns and scars. This woman was bald and her face and hands were smooth and spotless, with that stiff looseness and rubbery-look of skin regrown by non-expert medimages. The regrowth had altered her traits, making her look like a similar, but different, person.

Cordelia straightened upon seeing them. Her blue eyes glowed with the alertness of those with enough power to slow down aging. Her sudden smile was no shop-owner's smile. It was the self-assured smile of a pureblood Lady who knew her standing. She's changed, Andromeda had heard. Hardened. Once content to sell beverages that cured aches and loosened tongues, the witch had become the unofficial ringleader of the wizarding lower-class' protests.

"Such high-ranking visitors I get!" Cordelia said delightedly, her wandless hands clasped in her lap. She turned to Andromeda. "We were long overdue such a handsome Minister, don't you agree?"

Unruffled, Kingsley had a house-elf bring them two chairs. "Good morning, Ms. Rivers. You asked for a witness you'd recognize, so I've brought Lady Black."

"So you have. It's wonderful seeing you again, Ms. Tonks. I hope you won't mind me not calling you Lady Black. It makes it sound like you're not one of us anymore."

"I'll find it in me to forgive you." Andromeda's crinkled eyes belied her deadpan tone.

"Good, but I am afraid our handsome Minister might not."

"There were no witnesses to your victim's crimes and they are too incoherent for even Veritaserum. We-"

"My victims..." Cordelia's laughter was low and scornful. "Please, legilimize me, Minister. Bring a pensieve! Watch what I found in their minds!"

Kingsley didn't rise to the bait. "Please tell me why you decided to deliver justice yourself."

"You know what they said? 'We'll help you move on," they said, "you'll forget that muggle'. Seventy years, torn to shreds. Willie and I worked together, we raised our son together, he was there when I got to meet my great-granddaughter. My boy got his folks and me out of England. I survived, but I can't say I'm the same person. So much missing..." Again, that smile, one that cut like a slowly enunciated stupefy. "Just like you and your Order, Minister, I realized I had to fight my own battles."

"I'm sorry," Kingsley said after a pause, "and I'd understand if nobody had investigated after you'd made a claim, Ma'am, but you never even tried to get us involved."

"My victims were obliviators. We all know what happens when someone likes me accuses a Ministry worker. I know the questions Ministry employees were asked under Veritaserum to be allowed to keep their jobs: you cared about arresting Death Eaters, you cared about crimes against muggleborn. You asked about illegal muggle-baiting and torture. You didn't ask about zealous enforcement of the Statute. It's bad form to target spouses, but Willie was never legally protected. Was I so wrong to believe you didn't ask because you didn't care?"

"We didn't ask because we didn't think to ask," Kingsley admitted after another pause. "We'll have to interrogate again some of our people."

Cordelia stilled. The woman who'd delivered her tirade with the self-possession of a long-time politician now stared, intrigued, as if the Minister had veered off script.

"Very well, Minister," she said after a pause. "I'm involving you now : I still don't know who attacked Willie and me. My guess: look to the Spores and their hirelings." The old witch crossed her arms and leaned backwards. "Why did the Longbottoms get half the Lestrange vault?"

Kingsley frowned at the abrupt subject change. "As you must know, Frank and Alice Longbottom were tortured-"

"Yes, yes. Why are we pretending they were the Lestranges' only victims? Many of us lost people and homes when Death Eaters set up headquarters in our villages. The Ministry did a decent job rebuilding Portree and Tutshill, but the people themselves weren't given a knut. Why are the Longbottoms more deserving? Why were Ollivanders and Lovegood given Malfoy Manor when the value of the materials alone would make it possible to hire enough Hogwarts teachers to allow all our kids in? There is still such blatant favoritism, and yet you are surprised we don't trust you."

It would take a dozen wardbreakers weeks to unravel the wards of Malfoy Manor and take the building apart. The upper floors, converted into temporary quarters, housed muggleborn mages and Ministry workers made homeless because they'd refused to bow to Voldemort. Andromeda would have pointed all that out, had the crux of the matter not been trust.

No wonder poor Kingsley had a dilemma.

Still, Andromeda's enjoyment of her morning was steadily increasing. These were the people who had welcomed her and Ted when nobody else had. People too used to being unseen and unheard. It was high time somebody spoke for them.

An orange figure topped by a head of purple hair on the other side of windowed wall distracted Andromeda from Kingsley's answer. Brycin?

"Excuse me," she whispered, stepping out into the corridor.


1977, 23 years ago

Andromeda should have gone straight home, only... It wasn't just the workshop. They called me a mudblood. But how could she ask her muggleborn husband of all people to understand that it hurt when it shouldn't have mattered?

The two old wizards were still staring from the sidelines. Andromeda took a step towards them and hastily cast a tracing spell when she saw them raise their wands. It was rude to hex neighbors, but she just wanted... Well, if this was to be her new life, she and Ted had better start mingling.

She waited a few minutes after they'd disapparated to follow them.

The street she apparated in was at the edge of another mining village. A lone building stood removed from a cracked asphalt road. A small pub. Bushes and sturdy trees heavy with out-of-season flowers and trees thrived in the grass all around it. An invisible line separated the plot of ground from the rest of the village, where trees were rare and sickly. There were voices and movement behind the pub, at least two people moving and levitating wares.

A wizarding pub. Light shone from the stained-glass windows.

Curious, Andromeda went inside.

Of the nine tables, four were taken. It was as if she'd cast a Silencio over the whole room. All faces turned to her. The two men who'd witnessed her encounter with the aurors had been leaning over the counter, talking with two witches and a wizard who had to be the owners.

"You go," the larger of the two men said, his words muffled by his thick beard but his meaning obvious.

"Excuse me?" Not comfortable to being the center of attention, especially negative attention, Andromeda wanted to vanish under the floorboards, but her voice was steady and her back straight. Her parents could disown her, but they could not take away everything that made her a Black.

"It's not personal, Miss. We're simple, honest folk here. Don't bring us your trouble."

"What do you want?" the older of the two women behind the counter said. "You can have it outside." Her half-smile was apologetic and grim. "Aurors got it out for you? Kid, we can't do a thing. Nobody knows nobody who works at the Ministry here."

Fists clenched, Andromeda took a slow breath. Bellatrix would already have blasted them. Narcissa would have had a scathing reply. But neither were here, neither would ever set foot in a place like this. When Andromeda had left everything behind, she'd thought -

She'd thought what exactly? That she'd find a merry community of welcoming mages that would make her family a bad dream?

"I'll take that," she whispered, pointing at the biggest piece of fudge on the counter.

Wordlessly, she switched the cake with two sickles from her pocket. A flash of something crossed the others' eyes. How odd. Any competent sixth year could cast that spell.

Her chest thick with anger she didn't know what to do with, Andromeda strode out of the pub. She wanted to hate them, but those people weren't awful, they were afraid.

Eyeing the stormy sky with trepidation, the nineteen-year-old transfigured a fallen branch into a bench and settled under the tree.

She'd chosen this. To be herself. Even if it meant being nobody to everybody else. Not that she'd expected that even Bella and Cissy would -

Andromeda swallowed back her rising tears. She couldn't, wouldn't go back. Ted deserved better from her. She deserved better. This was her second act, the moment she realized the doing was a lot less glamorous than the dreaming, but it didn't make her wrong. They'd figure things out.

She nibbled at the fudge but found she had no appetite. She conjured a paper bag and set it aside. Ted liked fudge.

A flash of color caught her eye. A red-and-purple spark erratically zoomed towards her. Andromeda raised her wand but it was just a songbird of light-and-fire. It dissolved in a shower of tiny sparks after tweeting a few joyful notes. Behind the firework, a witch, her wand tucked away stepped up to her with a smile that said 'I know, this sucks'.

Andromeda's lips twitched despite herself. "You make those, Ma'am?"

"Yup, that's my brother finishing the delivery behind the pub. Come, it's a weather for warm drinks."

"I-"

"Brycin. Crockford. Take this, it's a one-use portkey to my place. You don't want me to side-along you, trust me."

The witch looked in her late twenties, with spiky short hair dyed a vibrant red, a sleeveless white shirt under her open black coat and color-charmed leather pants. It looked like she'd grabbed vaguely wizarding-looking things from various muggle-shops and altered them to her liking.

Andromeda blinked. She had to unlearn judging people by their clothes. Brycin looked friendly, and that's all that mattered right now. With a small tight-lipped smile, she took the matchbox-portkey.

A violent tug transported her in front of a six-story-high crooked pile-up of wood, brick and stone that must have been built and expanded over the generations. Andromeda stumbled and had to swallow back what little fudge she'd eaten. Morgana, they'd either apparated all the way to Northern Scotland or she'd have to buy Brycin a book on portkey charms.

A sign on what looked like a side-house of the main house said Flares & Fireworks. Andromeda's discreet detection spell revealed Muggle-repelling charms and a basic of alarm spell. There was an anti-fire ward on the side-building, but nothing the average Hogwarts graduate couldn't unravel. A powerful blasting curse would shred it apart.

"It'd take nothing to destroy this place," she whispered, "they could claim it was an accident."

"That's why I'm going to pay you to strengthen it some. They said you got called out for wanting to spell craft."

"Yes, but..." But why spit on good fortune? Andromeda would not let the likes of Higgs turn her into a cowering mess. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me. I'm about to hire you. That's not a favor, that's business. You don't owe people for treating you fairly just because your family are abusive pieces of crap. How do you take your tea?"

Andromeda blinked. Abusive. To hear it said out loud...

"Is the tea also business?" she finally said.

"This is England. Who needs a reason for tea?"

Warmed, Andromeda felt some of the tension leave her shoulders.

"This isn't Diagon Alley," Brycin said between two muttered charms over the kettle. "You don't need a workshop to start. You've gotta first convince people they'll get their money's worth. Get known. Get trusted. I can teach you about running a business."

"Just in exchange for some wards?"

"How much are your wards worth?" Andromeda blushed faintly under Brycin's frank gaze. "I doubt I'll end up shortchanged. And you... you need to get to know the people around here, Manor girl. My wards are bloody decent for these parts, and you looked at them like you were expecting a unicorn and got saddled with an elderly pit poney."

There was nothing faint about Andromeda's blush anymore. Rueful giggles escaped her mouth.

"Sorry. I do need help." It burned to admit it but... it shouldn't, right? Anybody would need help in her position. "I... is my dress alright?" she found herself asking. "I don't want to make people here think I feel superior."

And who was she to dress like the firstborn daughter of an old-blood house now that her name was Tonks and her fortune amounted to seventy galleons in a charmed purse?

"It's not a bad thing, to look expensive and remind everyone you've got that Noble-and-Ancient education. How many NEWTs did you pass?"

"Six."

Brycin blinked. "Right. My folks couldn't afford tutors past OWLs. I sat my charms NEWTs independently at 20 to prove to myself I was good enough. The neighbors aren't all that more schooled." She smiled. "You look great, don't overthink it."

Silly that Brycin's approval was such a relief, but this last year had been like stepping into another person's skin. She wasn't quite sure who Andromeda Tonks was.

"I don't know how to not keep second guessing myself," she whispered in her tea, unexpectedly glad to have somebody to say that to that wasn't Edward. It felt wrong, to ask her husband to be strong all the time.

"That's the look of a woman who's not sure where she's going. Not of one who regrets anything."

"No. No regrets." A sharp grin bared Andromeda's teeth. "I must write my parents. If I don't blackmail them, they'll never leave it alone."

Brycin grew serious. "Is that a threat you can carry out if they call it a bluff?"

"Oh yes. Society loves its scandalous gossip and even Mother and Father only get away with so much because everything is whispered and little is said out loud. Their enemies will pounce if given the opportunity."

"None of those enemies decent enough to help you?"

Andromeda's shoulders slumped at Brycin's earnest expression. "Why would they?"

"Because you're nineteen and you need help."


Back to the present

"Your sister had not even heard of me," the now fifty-year-old Brycin accused."Your cousin, on the other hand, is adorable about wanting things fixed between people. Tracked me down a few days ago, so very eager to make sure I wasn't nursing a grudge."

Brycin's colorful hairstyles had changed a dozen times over the years, but her infectious smile was unchanged. Just like her ability to make Andromeda blush.

The witch had been her closest friend before Ted's death. Regulus had dragged that out of Andromeda (because of course it wasn't Cissy who'd asked 'but don't you have any friends?') and... Morgana, why was Andromeda even surprised he'd decided to meddle?

"I... I've been selfish," she admitted. Neither Narcissa nor Harry had known Ted, and Harry had barely known Nymphadora (and he was barely more than a child : he'd never tried to take on the role of confidante). Andromeda had buried her grief by avoiding everything that reminded her of what she had lost. "I must invite you to tea and let you shout at me."

Brycin sighed. "You took care of yourself, Meda. That's what mattered. I'm upset you surrounded yourself with people that weren't me. But none of that warrants shouting."

"Nymphadora would disagree."

Sadness clouded Brycin's eyes, but she winked sympathetically. "Kids can be harsh with their poor mothers," she simply said, and Andromeda loved her for not overdoing it.

She hadn't been able to stand it, seeing her grief echoed in others' eyes. It made her feel painfully vulnerable, and furious, because it hadn't been their family, they had no idea -

"Besides, now I can guilt-trip the great Lady Black into doing me favors," Brycin said with a growing grin.

She'd missed that woman. "Why were you arrested?"

It couldn't be too serious : Brycin still had her wand and the single young auror escorting her was now staring at Kingsley and Cordelia.

"Funny story -. Hang on, is that Cordelia?"

Brycin marched up to the old witch and sat in the seat Andromeda had vacated. She didn't spare Kingsley a glance, no doubt because her bluster would fail her. Andromeda had seen even cynical Wizengamot veterans grow tongue-locked and starry-eyed around the Order of the Phoenix's most famous former general.

"Cordelia," Brycin demanded, "will you be getting out of here soon you or shall we march up to the Ministry with pitchforks?"

"Now I'm hopelessly outnumbered," Kingsley said wryly. He stood up, pausing to acknowledge Brycin as if the witch wasn't crashing an official interrogation. "Ms. Rivers, are there more crimes you'd like to bring to our attention?"

"Two, both murders of muggles lucky enough to have magical relatives to speak for them. And if you want to truly impress me, there are dozens of accusations that were dismissed in the last few years because it was little people fool enough to think they stood a chance against people who mattered."

"Well, time to kick that anthill," Kingsley mused grimly. "As to your prior question, the Longbottoms are looking into a cure for obliviation or long-term memory afflictions."

"How noble. Whereas if the Lestrange money hadn't been given to greater-good-minded old-family purebloods it would have been squandered on luxury broomsticks and Ogden's finest booze..."

Kingsley's lips thinned, his eyes betraying the first signs of irritation.

"My opinion, Minister," Andromeda intervened. "People should be allowed to assemble and protest. The Prophet should publish their grievances and demands. Once it will be made clear that people are not to be shut up like they were in the past, the Wizengamot and the Ministry will have to reveal where they stand on matters less cut and dry than what to do about Death Eaters. Force them all to take a side so they can't accuse you of making an unilateral decision."

"Well said. On the topic of Death Eaters," Brycin cut in, "Narcissa Malfoy is in trouble. Diggory was about to dose her with Veritaserum when I got let go."

"What? Where is she?"

"We'll be back, Ms. Rivers," Kingsley said, a deep frown creasing his forehead.

"Beautiful," Cordelia crowed. "Will he get her to name everybody the Malfoys helped get a position at the Ministry in exchange for favors? All those lesser pureblood families so eager for their precious sons and daughters to mingle with the aristocracy? Will he make her describe those deals with the Rowles, the Macmillans and the Travers about who gets to place their pawns where? This is it, Minister, your opportunity to clear out the deadwood! I trust we'll meet again, Madam Tonks."

Cordelia's parting bow reminded Andromeda, oddly, of Narcissa. Almost perfect, but just off enough to suspect you were being mocked.

But she had more pressing matters. What had Cissy gotten herself into?


Narcissa was seated on a chair with a glazed look on her face. Diggory was holding two wands but there was no sign of struggle. A floating pale blue crystal glowed in a corner of the room.

"Incantum Revelio," Andromeda said. Wordless magic in front of an auror would make her look suspect.

Narcissa wasn't hexed. There was a tethering charm on the gnarled wand Diggory held loosely at his side, to stop it from being summoned. The crystal was a recording device, storage for sound and image that could be replayed by a pensieve.

Legal. Worse, by the rules. Andromeda shot Kingsley a pointed look she hoped wasn't too pleading.

"Good morning, Minister. We had Malfoy take the inhaled version of the magic-stripping elixir to undo whatever dark curse it was she cast to vanish her own mouth. Those new potions truly work wonders."

"Captain, is this reasonable and necessary?" Kingsley said, his jaw tight.

"Did you know she orchestrated the capture and murder of Fabian and Gideon Prewett? A ploy involving the Felix Felicis potion. I just learned Cassiopeia Black used you as bait, Minister."

Kingsley paled. He suddenly looked younger, more vulnerable. A rare fury slowly tightened his traits.

Little sister, what did you do?

"I'd foolishly thought Cassiopeia Black had been as surprised at I was. The shield that bought us time to flee was hers..."

"Why did you want the twins dead?" Andromeda cut in, hoping she wasn't helping her sister dig her own grave. But if Kingsley joined Diggory in this crusade... Narcissa needed to make herself more sympathetic, quickly.

"Taylor and McCarthy, two muggleborn, poisoned me and Draco. I almost lost my son. I carried an unborn baby in stasis for months until Severus invented a cure. The poison made me barren. I lost my mind and agreed when Bellatrix asked me to help her set a trap for the Prewetts. They were the ones who'd gotten Taylor and McCarthy out of the country."

Disappointment and fierce sadness made Andromeda wish for a chair. Good people, families, torn apart. But she couldn't summon fury at Cissy for having lashed out like a wounded animal, not then.

"Your loyalty does you credit, Madame Black," Diggory said after a pause. The revelation seemed to have sapped his glee but not his resolve. "Malfoy, what was the worst thing you did to your sister after she dishonored your family by marrying a muggleborn?"

"I refused to answer her letters."

Frustration narrowed Diggory's eyes. Andromeda's lips quirked. It was the truth.

"What is the worst thing you did that she doesn't know about?"

"I showed the wards she liked to cast to Higgs and Travers after Mother had made sure Andromeda was registered as a muggleborn."

Andromeda blinked. The destruction of their first workshop. Higgs' awfully satisfied smile. Those weeks frantically worrying that her wards were too weak to keep even junior aurors out. "Why?" she whispered.

"I thought you'd come home when you realized a life disowned was awful. I thought that if they knew how to unravel the wards, they'd do it while you were away. I didn't want you hurt." Narcissa's eyes narrowed slightly, betraying her efforts to conquer back some freedom over her answers. "Choosing Edward Tonks over the Black name wasn't a mistake."

Andromeda swallowed back her questions and clasped Narcissa's shoulder. They'd talk, but not like this. Her sister grasped her fingers tightly.

Inspired by Cordelia's parting words, Andromeda sucked in a breath. "Were the Diggorys ever complicit in Malfoy schemes, specifically involving hiring or promotions?"

"Yes. In short, Amos Diggory was promoted young to the World Cup organizing committee in exchange for Ravenna Yaxley's position at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Lucius didn't personally oversee any of the hiring or promotions, but he placated Fulvia Brown, who should have been promoted instead of Amos, with gifts."

"Is Amos aware of this?"

"Not quite, but he strongly suspects he wasn't promoted on merit alone. He's much happier at Hogwarts. He admitted to me he'd always felt a bit like an imposter at the Ministry."

"Fair enough," Diggory said, a embarrassed flush to his face as he avoided meeting the Minister's gaze. "I won't pretend I am a paragon of virtue, but I don't have to be to shed some light on things much more serious than favoring one's son. Malfoy, did you ever, of your own volition, commit a crime against a muggle or encourage, directly or indirectly, someone to? If so, detail the crime."

"Once. Severus tested the potion he used to save Draco's life first on hogs then on pregnant muggle women. Before the potion was a success, some lost their children. I don't know how many, I never asked. My son surviving mattered more."

Some lost their children. Andromeda couldn't breathe. Once, she told herself to keep her composure. And for Draco. Narcissa wasn't revealing a hidden past of muggle-baiting. Turning on her now would not fix past wrongs.

"While Voldemort was presumed dead, were you involved or complicit in crimes against individual mages? List the crimes you believe I will find most notable and relevant."

"Yes. We paid the goblins to freeze the accounts of several wizards and witches over the years, always in exchange of favors from those who found those mages inconvenient. I personally planted a dark artifact at Rosier Residence and made sure aurors would investigate. The muggle mother and brother of Lawrence Rowlands were poisoned to make Rowlands flee Britain. I was aware and tangentially involved in those plans."

Damn it, Cissy. "Who was Rowlands?"

"A muggleborn Unspeakable who planned to run against Fudge in 1990. Some called him the next Nobby Leach." The first (and only) muggleborn Minister for Magic. "He had the support of Albus Dumbledore and Rufus Scrimgeour."

Andromeda could now recall the name from the Prophet. Unsurprisingly the newspaper had heavily downplayed Rowlands' chances. Slightly nauseous, Andromeda decided that if Diggory wanted an interrogation and Kingsley wouldn't put a stop to it, she might as well help Narcissa implicate all the guilty.

"Who else was involved in that scheme, among those not currently imprisoned?"

"Fawley and Goldstein came to Lucius when Rowlands succeeded in negotiating airing time on the wireless, with plans to correct the Prophet's claims. The Spores and Algernon Longbottom suggested the poison, a foreign mixture. Rowlands had become aware of contraband magical plants being funneled through the Department of Mysteries and many would have been implicated. After Rowlands left, the investigation was swept under the rug by Fawcett and lesser admins like Umbridge who stood to gain from Fudge's election. Fudge was likely aware."

"Did you encourage the dismissal of Cedric Diggory's death as an accident?" Andromeda asked. This time, she knew the answer. Harry had confronted Narcissa about Cedric long before Cyrus Diggory.

"No. I wanted there to be an investigation on Cedric Diggory's death, just like I wanted there to be on Sirius. It would have discredited both Dumbledore and Fudge. I hoped that with Dumbledore gone from Hogwarts and a power vacuum in the Ministry, the Dark Lord would focus on politics rather than on the castle. I didn't want Draco to be able to be of use to the Dark Lord."

"They were friends, Nymphadora and Cedric," Andromeda said softly. "She would come back to Hogsmeade during her first year of training, to convince him to join her. She was blonde for three weeks when he became champion."

"I know," the elder Diggory's tone held little hostility as he turned to Andromeda. The pain in his eyes filled her with a stab of sympathy. Morgana, why had Cissy put her in this position? "And I'm sorry. That year... Harry Potter said loud and clear he hadn't put his name in the Goblet of Fire. Forcing someone into a magically binding contract is a crime. We didn't investigate because Fudge didn't want to look bad in front of the foreigners and Dumbledore didn't want aurors at Hogwarts. An investigation could have saved my grandson. I didn't join the Order of the Phoenix because I could never follow the orders of a man who used children as bait. I'm done listening to the Dumbledores, Fudges and Harry Potters of this world. I want the truth and I'll use all the legal tools at my disposal to get it."

"Alright, let's make this productive rather than personal," Kingsley said as the tense silence stretched. His voice was measured, but he obviously struggled to contain his anger. Cassiopeia, Felix Felicis, the Prewetts... What had happened that day? How did it involve Kingsley?

Diggory straightened, bolstered by the Minister's approval. "State any illegal activity, save for the casting of dark spells used with no intention to harm living beings, you have taken part in since the end of the war. Begin with the gravest crime."

"I have been helping Harry Potter repair Sirius Black's enchanted motorbike. It is an undeclared artifact which would be classified as Type III, Dark."

Andromeda shut her eyes, torn between apprehension and wry amusement. Poor Harry, dragged into this despite himself.

Narcissa's fingers dug painfully into her hand. They both knew that the murder of the Prewetts alone was enough to endanger everything Cissy had been working towards.

Undaunted, Cyrus Diggory pressed on.