15. A Time to Reflect
Monday 31st August 1994
This time, Shacklebolt turned up at Tonks' flat promptly. She bundled him inside, casting a nervous look around to make sure her Muggle neighbours hadn't seen him. They already thought her a bit strange, and someone dressed in Auror robes wouldn't exactly reassure them.
He inspected the lounge with interest, and Tonks found herself wishing she'd tidied it just a little bit that morning. "You know," he said with a grin, "a few months ago, I'd have given a lot to get in here?"
"What?"
"To search for your cousin."
"Oh!"
Kingsley chuckled. "Don't worry, I'm not the sort to have any interest in whatever may be left of your virtue, am I?" He grinned again and sat down on the sofa next to her, pulling a small table towards him. "Now then, Tonks," he said, suddenly businesslike, "I spent a bit of time getting to work with the copy charms before I came to meet you, and I have a number of documents here for you to look at – fixed so only we can read them, you understand. Firstly, though, I want to know what you know about your cousin's case, so I can tell where to start."
"Right, well ..." Now it came to the point of actually talking about her cousin, Tonks found it surprisingly difficult. She shrugged. "I don't suppose I really know much more than the witch or wizard in the street. We've never really discussed it within the family."
"Maybe you should have," he pointed out. "Just tell me what you have heard."
"OK." She steeled herself. "Well, he was best friends with the Potters, and young Harry's godfather. I think he used to talk about them when he came round, it just didn't register at the time who he meant. Then he told You-Know-Who where to find them. Probably worked for him for ages. We heard all about that when the war ended. And I know that –" she gulped nervously "– he was their Secret-Keeper. I only found that out when I was seventeen, right out of the blue in a N.E.W.T. Charms lesson. The teacher somehow got to discussing Fidelius as an example of an advanced charm, and he used what happened to show how you absolutely had to trust the Keeper." She smiled humourlessly. "I got the impression he hadn't planned to tell us about it, he just sort of drifted into it and then couldn't back out – he didn't actually name names, but it was obvious who he was talking about. I don't suppose I heard a word of the rest of the lesson. It took me about a quarter of an hour even to notice that the rest of the class were shooting me funny looks."
"I can understand that," he said slowly. "And the events of the following day?"
"Only what I saw in the paper. Mum and Dad told me not to read it, but of course I sneaked a copy up to bed with me that night. My pillow was absolutely soaked with tears in the morning. As I understand it –" her eyes felt annoyingly moist now "– a friend of theirs – Paul Patterson? – caught up with him, and he blew him up and took out half a street and a load of Muggle bystanders as well. The report said he just stood there laughing then till they came to take him away, but I suppose that was made up for the sake of a good story?"
Kingsley shook his head, to her surprise. "No, that's exactly what he did. The man's name was Peter Pettigrew, by the way. I've got the accurate reports here – you'll probably want to read them, at your leisure." He gave her a half-smile. "Try not to soak your pillow this time."
Tonks returned it. "Well, I know a good Drying Charm now. But ... why? Why didn't he just Apparate away while he had time?"
"I don't know," said Kingsley with a shrug. "The official theory was that it was the point everything finally caught up with him mentally. He'd killed three of his supposed best friends, and a dozen Muggles who were literally lying in pieces all around him, and he wasn't even going to have a glorious career as You-Know-Who's second-in-command to show for it ... You can see how that could turn a man's mind."
Tonks pondered this for a moment or two. "What did he actually say at the trial? Or is that under a Secrecy Order from the Ministry? I never managed to find a report of it in the paper."
He snickered. "I'm not surprised. There never was a trial."
"What?" Tonks was more shocked by this piece of information than she would have believed possible.
"The Emergency Powers Act was still in force," he said with a shrug. "Our Head of Department – not Boney, her predecessor, old Crouch – just signed an order to send him directly to Azkaban. No-one bothered much about trials at the time. Here's a one-way ticket, Mr Black, say goodbye to your happy memories. Welcome to hell on earth."
"Serves him right," said Tonks, annoyed to hear a slight note of doubt creeping into her tone. "And it didn't work for him, did it?" She was pleased that her righteous anger was more clearly audible this time.
"That's another thing we can't explain," he said, making Tonks raise her eyebrows. "Some idiot in the paper said he'd been gathering strength for a breakout, but you don't gather strength around Dementors, you lose it. For the record, we have no real idea how he did it."
Tonks lay back against the cushions and thought, hard. "Do recent events make any better sense?"
He smiled at her. "I don't know. What did you hear?"
"I heard he tried to get into Hogwarts at least three times over the last year," she said promptly. "Then back in June, the Prophet said they actually caught him there, but he got away again. Not much detail, though. I got a few bits of gossip second-hand from Rhiannon Davies via her cousin – something about young Harry Potter and his mates and Dementors being involved. Why aren't they reporting it?"
"Because we're 'trying to avoid letting Black realise how much we know'," he said, shrugging. "In other words, the facts make Fudge look bad, so we don't tell them anything we don't have to. Standard Ministry response. As to what actually happened, it's not easy to piece together. We only have two first-hand witness accounts, both from teachers at the school – who were always enemies, and disagree wildly on a lot of points."
Tonks slapped her forehead in sudden recollection of another Prophet leading article. "Was one the Defence teacher? Turned out to be a werewolf, forgot to take his potion, ran off into the Forest, and got the sack when he finally decided to crawl back home in the morning?"
"That's the one. Remus Lupin – talk about names coming back to bite you! We hauled him in for an interview the day after he left." He dug out a roll of parchment from his bag and handed it to her. "I've made a copy of the transcript for you ..."
Tonks blanched. "Kingsley, there's yards of it! Can't you just tell me the important bits?"
He grinned. "You use an Auto-Dictation Quill, you get everything, right down to the ums and ers. OK, let me summarise ... Lupin's apparently been a werewolf since he was a young kid. He said those friends he always went around with – Black, Potter's dad, and Pettigrew – found out and stuck by him, which was decent of them. He claims that Pettigrew then decided it would be really cool if he could turn into an animal too, and eventually persuaded the others to help him work out how to do the Animagus transformation." He smiled at Tonks' raised eyebrows. "Completely illegal, of course, but he said they didn't realise at the time ..."
"Yeah, right."
Kingsley snorted. "I know, but I checked and technically, they wouldn't have been breaking the law. There's a duty on Animagi to register, but not on anyone else to turn them in if they don't. Lupin said Pettigrew learned how to turn into a rat, and when he arrived in the Shack to find Black and the kids there ..."
"Which kids? Harry Potter, presumably, who else?"
"Two of his friends. Ronald Weasley – one of Arthur Weasley's sons; you know, the man who works down the corridor from us in Misuse of Muggle Artefacts – and Hermione Granger, who's a Muggle-born, but apparently top of the class. According to Lupin, he knew they were all friends with Rubeus Hagrid ..."
"The gamekeeper? Huge, lots of beard, nice enough bloke but a bit batty about monsters?"
"That's the one," he said, with a look of mild annoyance. "Tonks, do you think maybe you could let me finish without interrupting all the time?"
"Sorry. Go on."
"Yes, well, er, Lupin," he said, evidently trying to regather his thread. "He thought they might sneak out to console Hagrid over a dangerous Hippogriff of his they were going to execute that evening. So his story is that he was watching them on one of those security maps showing the castle and grounds –" he paused, apparently expecting another interruption, and looked slightly surprised when Tonks didn't make one "– and he saw Pettigrew on it, then Black arriving and dragging Weasley and Pettigrew into a tunnel leading to the Shrieking Shack, then the other two chasing after them. He said he was so shocked he forgot what night it was, forgot everything, and ran down there in a panic as fast as he could."
He paused, and continued in a more thoughtful tone. "This is where it gets even odder. Apparently Black managed – somehow – to convince both him and the children that Pettigrew was being kept as a pet rat by the Weasley boy, and that he was the one he'd been after, not young Potter. Lupin said he noticed the rat had a toe missing, so he found Black's contention that Pettigrew had cut it off himself before vanishing plausible. You wanted to ask a question, by the look of you?"
"Yes," said Tonks, embarrassed. "OK, suppose for the sake of argument Pettigrew was still alive and could turn into a rat? I wouldn't blame him for getting away from Si ...my cousin any way he could. He'd already killed fourteen people, hadn't he? I suppose staying in hiding all these years would be a bit excessive once he knew he was in Azkaban, but ..." She trailed off uncertainly.
Kingsley nodded in approval. "That was Black's point too. He claimed the Potters switched to Pettigrew as Secret-Keeper as a bluff; and he was tracking him down for revenge, not the other way round; and that Pettigrew blew a hole in the street as a diversion, then vanished into the sewers below as a rat. So far, so implausible, but Lupin insists he actually performed the Homorphus Charm on the boy's rat; and lo and behold it turned into Pettigrew, who had no good explanation. So they started off for the castle to show him to the authorities and clear Black's name – but the moon rose, Lupin changed, and Pettigrew escaped in the confusion."
"How very inconvenient," said Tonks sarcastically.
"Indeed. Then the Dementors who were guarding the gates turned up looking for Black, and nobody's quite sure what happened after that. The Potions master had followed them, by the way, but he'd been knocked out, and when he woke up the Dementors were just leaving." He nodded again at Tonks' raised eyebrows. "It's quite an ingenious story, really, although in the absence of Pettigrew in whatever form there's no proof, of course."
"Do you believe Lupin?" asked Tonks, with a shrewd look.
"He didn't seem like he thought he was lying," said Kingsley, cautiously, and (to Tonks' mind) rather evasively. "And both Fudge and Dumbledore believe he went to rescue the kids. I wasn't able to get a Veritaserum warrant for him at the time, but it wouldn't necessarily have helped, because the other teacher's theory is that the whole lot had been Confunded by Black. And in that case Lupin would have told exactly the same story under Truth Potion, and believed it. That was a known Death Eater trick, after all."
Tonks nodded; she remembered Featherstone discussing it. "It was a big thing to make him believe, though – change his whole childhood, almost. Wouldn't it have worn off by now? If you asked him again, might he have a different story?"
"Not necessarily. It depends on the strength of the charm. And I haven't had the time to go up to Leeds and match wits with him. Come to think of it, it might be worth applying for a warrant again in the current climate ..."
"Worth a try. How come no-one got bitten, by the way?" She wasn't at all happy with Lupin's story, and suspected Kingsley might be recounting it the way he was to test her powers of analysis. "On his own admission, they were all next to a transforming werewolf who'd missed his dose of Wolfsbane. It's not like you can just Stun a werewolf, is it? They're too resistant. You'd expect someone would have been hurt."
He looked pleased by the question. "Well, he said that although he hadn't had the last dose, he'd already taken enough of the stuff over the previous few days to keep a measure of control and awareness, once the initial shock of the change was past. He said he felt he could smell humans in the Forest too, so he was able to force himself to run off towards them instead, and then of course once he was inside there weren't any there to tempt him."
"Is that right?" asked Tonks sceptically. "I thought a werewolf had to take the full course?"
Kingsley shrugged again. "I checked with Werewolf Support Services and with St Mungo's. If the potion's brewed properly, a dose or two in the week before the full moon can be enough. The effect's cumulative, and the closer to the full moon it's taken, the more effective it is. So I think he probably could have been just about sane enough to be able to do what he claimed. He certainly seemed very ashamed of himself for forgetting how much time had passed. The school Potions Master brewed the Wolfsbane for him, so it should have been adequately prepared."
Tonks scowled. "The Potions Master? Snape? He taught me. Miserable git, but to be fair I suppose he does know his stuff."
"He wasn't much different as a boy, from what little I can remember. My assistant spoke to him the day after, but his report said that the man seemed almost insane, so I don't know how much faith to put in his story. He had a lot to say for himself, though. There's another dozen or so yards of parchment here for you to examine if you want."
Tonks flipped through the roll. "Yippee."
He gave her a cynical grin. "He's convinced Black is guilty, thinks there's an excellent chance he and Lupin were working together, swears blind there was no sign of Pettigrew as either rat or human, and is sure Potter and his friends helped Black get away. Although since they were all out cold when he brought them back to the castle, and the kids were locked in the hospital wing after that, I think he's barking up the wrong tree there. Our Professor Snape has a nice little range of conspiracy theories, reluctantly accepts the logical possibility that they were Confunded, but feels sure Lupin and Potter were in cahoots because of the map."
"I see." Tonks felt overwhelmed by all this new information, and unsure what to query first. "That security map," she said, seizing on the most concrete thing she could think of. "Where the hell did the werewolf get that from, even if he was teaching Defence? Aren't maps of public buildings strictly controlled? And why would Snape think it had anything to do with Potter?"
Kingsley burst out laughing. "Oh, now that's a tale. Lupin said he first saw one as a teenager, when he came to the Ministry for his annual sign-in on the Werewolf Register. He and his friends decided that a map showing where the teachers and prefects were would be a most useful thing to have, and somehow they managed to find out how you made one. Before you ask, Potter and Black were top of the class, they were well known for it. Lupin claims that the caretaker eventually impounded it, and assumes young Harry must have discovered it somehow and appropriated it for his own use. Snape's theory is that Lupin had the map all the time and gave it to his old friend's son to wreak havoc with. Apparently he caught him with it, but didn't realise what it was, and Lupin spirited them both away. Our Professor Snape was literally spitting mad about that. Lupin cheerfully confesses to getting Potter out of trouble for old times' sake, but maintains he was as shocked as Snape, confiscated the map, and kept it to watch them with."
"Why wouldn't Black conceal himself, then?" argued Tonks. "If he'd done any scouting, he must have known Lupin was back, and might have this map and be watching for him ..." She suddenly recalled something from Lore of Yore. "Although there's a Nonlocatability spell, isn't there? Is it only good for hiding from owls, or can you use it to keep you off those maps?"
He nodded. "Very good, Tonks. Yes, you can, but used that way it's a rather complex reactive charm – you have to get within the magically mapped area first to cast it. And it needs a wand, of course, and we're not sure he's got one."
"He didn't have one when he was spotted near my place, did he? What happened to his wand after he was caught?"
He chuckled. "It's currently residing in a display case in the Departmental Dark Museum. They do like to have a murder wand to put on show. He's welcome to drop by to fetch it, of course ..."
Murder wand? That sounded like something Lockhard had said. 'Having the murder wand available is always useful, we so rarely have that luxury.' She sat up suddenly; her ability to think clearly seemed to be returning, and her mind seemed to keep making connections at the moment. She mentally kicked herself for forgetting to ask about such an obvious piece of evidence. "What were the ... er, spell echoes?" she said curiously. "The echo from the blasting spell must have been clear proof. The wand would have been confiscated as soon as they arrested him, yeah?"
"Oh, it was," said Kingsley bitterly. "But they didn't get anything useful from it."
Tonks stared at him. "They didn't? How come?"
"Because one of the Hit Wizards who arrested him tried to act tough. Damn fool was probably scared out of his wits. He waved the wand in Black's face and shouted that they could prove what the last spell he cast was." He snorted. "The imbecile cast Prior Incantato instead of Priori Incantatem, so he only got the last spell. It wouldn't have mattered if he'd kept going, but he didn't – did you know you only get one chance to extract spell echoes? Once you separate the wand tips it erases the record. So we lost an opportunity to prove him guilty, not that there was much doubt. That last spell was just an ordinary Accio, by the way."
"A Summoning spell? What the hell was he trying to Summon?"
Kingsley threw his hands up. "I don't know. It wasn't as if he was exactly sane, was it?"
"Right." She looked away, unsure quite what to make of this piece of data. "This map. What happened to it when Professor Wolf-Man left?"
"He claims he left it with the Headmaster to donate to the new Defence teacher if he felt so inclined. I'll assume that's true until I hear different from Dumbledore."
"You haven't interviewed him?" said Tonks in astonishment.
Kingsley gave her a sideways look that she thought seemed decidedly shifty. "He dropped in at the Ministry to make a statement before he flew off to Stockholm. Unfortunately, young Rawlins was the only one of my team on duty at the time, and he doesn't like taking the initiative, especially when overawed by someone like Dumbledore. So he just wrote down what he said and didn't ask many questions." She snorted. "The old man said he thought Black might have been telling the truth, by the way," he added casually.
"He did?" Tonks gaped at him. When Kingsley had told her that unexpected people believed Sirius might be innocent, she'd assumed he just meant members of his Auror team – not Dumbledore. She could feel her brain threatening to fog up again. "You said you only had two witnesses. Didn't you interview the kids?"
"No," said Kingsley with a look of annoyance. "The word we got from both Dumbledore and Fudge was that we shouldn't bother them."
"Why not?" asked Tonks, astonished yet again.
"Damned if I know. Well, as far as Fudge is concerned, I think he wanted to kill discussion as quickly as possible in case the Prophet slated him for letting Black get away from under his nose. And to be fair to old Dumbledore, he tries to keep his students away from outside interference. He statement said that the kids haven't pressed him about the matter, and as he put it, 'it seems they may have accepted the idea that they were Confunded'. Make of that what you will."
"What did the Minister say when you interviewed him?"
Kingsley raised his eyebrows. "You have got to be joking, Tonks. We have a signed statement sent from his office, basically saying none of what happened was his fault, and we were lucky to get that."
"The Dementors?" said Tonks, without much expectation.
"Ha ha. They don't know what happened and they don't care. They're just furious that Black got away again. No-one seems to know why they left, by the way, and they're not interested in telling. Another mystery. Maybe Black managed a Patronus before they all collapsed."
"Right … When did Siri ... Bla ... er, my ... oh, you know. When did he escape? How did he escape?" Tonks flushed, annoyed with herself.
Kingsley looked at her sharply, but evidently decided to let it go. "When is easy enough," he said calmly. "A little before midnight. Dumbledore was the one who actually interviewed Black – by the sound of it, Fudge was too scared to stay and say more than a few words to him, despite having the company of the most powerful wizard in the world, and Black being Incarcerated." He snorted. "Anyway, our Fearless Leader ordered Macnair – the executioner he brought along for that Hippogriff – to fetch a Dementor, then shot off to talk to Snape. Dumbledore offered to try to get Black to confess, but he gave up on that at about 11.45 and left him to go and check on the kids."
He paused. "But as to how he got away? That's a bloody good question, Tonks. He was magically bound to a chair, in an office that contained nothing more helpful than some third-year Charms essays, on the seventh floor of a tower with sheer walls, and with the door and windows spell-locked. When Macnair got back with the Dementor, they found the window open and Black gone. And there you have the story. Any theories?"
"Not really." Tonks lay back on the sofa and thought hard again. "This Macnair. He couldn't have been one of You-Know-Who's lot once and decided to help an old comrade get away, could he?"
Kingsley shook his head regretfully. "He's a nasty piece of work – enjoys his job too much for my taste, friend of your uncle too – but there's no evidence of a Death Eater past. I took advantage of Boney providing us with extra resources to have him checked out, but he came up clean. And there were witnesses when he got back to the room. Good idea though."
"Right." Tonks smiled to hide her disappointment. She racked her brains to think of other possibilities. "He couldn't ... oh I don't know, have been another Animagus, assuming they weren't lying about Pettigrew or Confunded? Maybe had a go at it himself on the quiet once he'd found out how to help his mate? He could have turned into a – a bird or a bat or something and flown away?"
Kingsley chuckled. "My, my, Tonks. You're showing more original thought than some of my team have in the last year! Actually, I did sort of consider that briefly when Lupin mentioned it. It half explains some things, but it doesn't account for how he got the window open without a wand. I'm not even sure an Animagus could transform while Incarcerated."
"I can Metamorphose," offered Tonks. "I did it several times during Evasion and Escape training. Came in quite handy."
"I wonder if it applies to Animagi too?" mused Kingsley. "That's a learned talent, not an innate one. There's only one currently registered flying Animagus, and he's an Auror. I'll have to ask him. Interesting information, though."
Tonks turned her head sharply at the phrase interesting information. He'd used it at the World Cup, but he still hadn't explained what it was. "That's a point, Kingsley," she said, feeling her way. "You've told me lots of stuff, but last time we talked you said you had something new you weren't sure about." When he didn't reply, she prodded him with her elbow impatiently. "So? Are you going to tell me what it was? Having got this far, you might as well ..."
He studied her carefully, at great enough length that she was preparing to elbow him again, then sighed heavily. "I suppose I might. In for a Knut, in for a Galleon. Yes, I have some potentially disquieting new information." He rummaged through his bag again; then handed her a copy of a longish letter written in a narrow handwriting on moderately familiar-looking headed paper. He smiled briefly. "See what you make of this ..."
Tonks took the letter. As she read it, her jaw began to drop without her realising:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRYHeadmaster, Albus Dumbledore
Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards
Dear Kingsley,
I hope you will forgive the informality of a personal note, but as I understand it, you are currently the man charged with the responsibility of locating and recapturing Sirius Black. Naturally, I should first offer you my congratulations for attaining such a position of responsibility at so relatively young an age. Although your talents were obvious while you were studying here, it is always a pleasure to see one of my former students succeed in living up to their potential.
As you know, I have already recounted to a colleague of yours at the Ministry a brief outline of the happenings of the evening of the sixth of June as they presented themselves to me. But in the rush of events, I may perhaps have failed to explain my impressions with sufficient clarity. I would therefore consider it a kindness if you would permit me both to re-emphasise and to expand upon what I said on that occasion.
I must confess that when I volunteered to interview Mr Black that night, my main motivation was an intense personal curiosity about his role in the events of Hallowe'en 1981, which have haunted me ever since. I had never been able to comprehend what could have led him to betray friends in such a manner, and my hope was that he might provide some shred of self-justification that would at least clarify his motivations, even though I could not possibly agree with them.
When I confronted him, however, to my astonishment he instead recounted a very different and most unexpected story; one I discovered subsequently had been told to my former Defence teacher Professor Lupin, and my pupils Messrs Potter and Weasley and Miss Granger, while they were all together in the building colloquially known as the 'Shrieking Shack'.
His contention, as of course you will recall, was that Peter Pettigrew was both an illegal Animagus with a rat form, and the true Secret-Keeper for Lily and James Potter; that he had in fact been the real traitor among those sworn to oppose Lord Voldemort thirteen years ago; and that he had himself committed the multiple murders and then faked his own death in order to escape when Mr Black hunted him down the following day (with, it must be admitted, revenge in mind). This story, and his claim that Mr Pettigrew was revealed during the confrontation in the Shack, dovetails perfectly with the stories told by my students that night, and with that of Professor Lupin when I was able to interview him the following morning.
As you are doubtless aware, Professor Snape was also present at this scene, although unfortunately not conscious for much of the time. He has formed the reasonable conclusion, based on the events that he was personally in a position to witness, that my students had been subjected to a powerful Confundus Charm, and stated as much at the time to Minister Fudge, who was visiting the castle on business. I understand that he feels that Professor Lupin was either also under the influence of such a Charm, or indeed had assisted Mr Black throughout the year. However, the three students concerned have shown no subsequent signs of the mental disorientation that is the typical after-effect of being Confunded, and as you know, I have stated my belief that Black's version of events is in fact the true story.
You may well have wondered how I was able to do so with such confidence. On reflection, I am afraid that it is time for another confession. One of the many obscure branches of magic that I have found it necessary to study in my time is that of Legilimency, or what is often colloquially (albeit imprecisely) known as 'mind reading'. I am sure that you will be familiar with the concept from your training, although I understand that it is not commonly taught to Aurors because of the great length of time usually required to achieve any degree of proficiency. I am a sufficiently practised Legilimens that if I so desire I am generally able to determine if someone is lying to me, especially when it is possible to make full eye contact. You may perhaps now realise why it was that my students were seldom able to convince me that they were telling the truth if the situation was otherwise!
Naturally, given the limited time available to me to interview Sirius Black, I opted to use this technique – as you are of course aware, one of the privileges of my senior position on the Wizengamot is the right to use such intrusive methods on my own authority in an emergency situation. Greatly to my surprise, however, not only did Black make no attempt to resist, he actually begged me to use the technique to examine his mind and his memories. I did so, and was further astonished to discover that he appeared to be speaking with absolute sincerity about Mr Pettigrew's abilities and his guilt. The story that he told, while extraordinary, nevertheless explained many little details I recalled about his behaviour in the year 1981, and that of Peter Pettigrew, in a manner that finally made sense.
It is of course possible for a master Occlumens, or the truly insane, to succeed in concealing contradictory thoughts and giving a false impression even under such pressure, but such abilities are rare. Inasmuch as it is within my power to determine, I feel sure that Sirius Black falls into neither category. I used all of the considerable skills that I possess to probe his mind using the most powerful techniques available, and found it to be, although (not unnaturally) slightly unbalanced, very clear and open.
I would therefore regard it as a personal favour if you would give serious consideration during your investigations to the possibility that his remarkable story may in fact be the truth. As you will of course have realised, if Black's story is indeed true, certain consequences follow logically:
Firstly, a great injustice has been done to an innocent man who has suffered terribly in Azkaban, and is still a fugitive unable to make any attempt to resume his life.
Secondly, the time and resources the Ministry are currently directing towards his recapture are misdirected, wasteful, and potentially misleading, especially if it is contended that he had a hand in the recent disturbances at the Quidditch World Cup.
But finally, and most importantly, it means that Peter Pettigrew is a fugitive once again, and may well intend to return to his old master now he has nowhere else to go. If he were to succeed in locating Lord Voldemort and assisting him to regain his old powers – and I have reason to suspect that he would know where to begin looking – the consequences for the peace of our world would be terrible. I cannot emphasise enough that we ignore this prospect at our very great peril
You are of course free to make use of this information in whatever manner you wish. I would consider it a kindness, however, if you would restrict its circulation to those who are able to make direct use of it, as far as may reasonably be possible. I would not wish to interfere in the workings of the Ministry, nor indeed to raise any suggestion that I appear to be doing so.
I am, yours most sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
-----
There was silence in Tonks' flat for at least five minutes after she reached the end of Dumbledore's letter. She had no idea what to say; she found herself reading it again and then yet again, as she tried to come to terms with its deeply unsettling contents. Kingsley just sat and watched her with an amused expression.
"Wow," she said weakly, when the silence had stretched out to the point where she felt she had to say something.
"What do you make of it?" he asked quietly.
"I don't know. The old man's a Legilimens, eh? Wow." She gave an uncertain laugh. "Explains one thing anyway. I thought I was being clever at school meeting his eyes when I was denying any knowledge of the mischief I'd just got into. I never could work out how he knew I was lying through my teeth. Guess I hexed myself in the foot there, eh?"
"I'll ask you the same question you asked me a few minutes ago," said Kingsley, still in a very quiet but surprisingly intense voice. "Do you believe him?"
Tonks looked up at him. "I don't know," she said in a similar tone. "I don't know, Kingsley. I ... I suppose I want to, but ... come on, it just can't be true. Can ... can it? What do your team think?"
"They don't. I haven't told them." He smiled when she gasped, and then looked her directly in the eye. "I discussed with them once what might happen if we found Black and had to put him under Imperius, or interrogate him under Veritaserum. The consensus was that if he had the mental strength to resist the Dementors all those years and still talk rationally to Fudge, he might well be able to throw off both those things. I don't know enough about Legilimency – yet – to know if that would work the same way, and I don't especially want to look a fool in front of my team by raising outlandish theories. But as I said before, I'm sure there's a part of you, deep down, that really does want to believe your cousin is innocent. And now I'll ask you again what I asked you then. What would you do about it?"
"Did you know this when you asked me?" she said with asperity.
He shook his head. "No. As far as I knew, you were simply a brash new Auror with dubious relatives, and Rawlins was an idiot for taking down Dumbledore's statement wrong and making it sound ridiculous. Then, about the time you were chasing after that woman down on the south coast, I got this letter – and that rather wiped the smile off my face. So again, what do you intend to do about it?"
"So again, I don't know. When I came to talk to you, I thought you were going to tell me ... where you thought he was hiding out or something. I didn't think of this." What exactly do you expect me to say, Kingsley? You drop this on me out of the blue when I've spent a decade not thinking about it, and expect a quick answer? Dream on. "What do you want me to do? Do you really not want me to freelance, or was that just for show?"
He smiled wryly. "Well, I wasn't sure how you'd react. I've been taking some time for hard thinking over the last few weeks, and I'm not sure how I react. I never quite understood why Black did it – it seemed so unlike him – and then when I got the letter, well ..."
"You take Dumbledore seriously, then? You're not just doing this to humour the old man?"
Kingsley snorted so loudly that Tonks jumped; the sudden noise made her realise just how quietly they'd been talking. "Not take him seriously?" he said incredulously. "Everybody takes Dumbledore seriously!" He pointed to the heading of the letter. "When the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot – technically my boss – who is also the titular head of the International Confederation of Wizards asks me as a 'personal favour' to give something serious consideration, then yes, I damn well give it serious consideration. He may have his conceit of claiming to be only Headmaster of Hogwarts and not involved in politics, but he's a powerful man – he has a lot of contacts and a lot of influence, regardless of what Fudge does. So yes, I take him bloody seriously."
"Fair point," said Tonks, feeling slightly abashed. An icy feeling seemed to be creeping up her spine as what she'd read slowly sunk in. "Kingsley, do you get the feeling there's something ... odd going on here?" When he nodded, she added, "You don't really think there's a chance Pettigrew might be out there helping You-Know-Who to come back, do you?"
"I don't know what to think. But like the man said, we ignore the possibility at our peril."
Tonks swallowed. "Kingsley? You know something? You're scaring me."
"Good. I'm scaring me."
A suspicious phrase suddenly came back to her. "Wait a minute ... what did you mean when you said it 'seemed so unlike him'? Kingsley, did you know Unc ... Sirius Black before all this happened?"
"Ah, yes." He did, at least, look embarrassed. "Everyone knew Black and Potter when I was at school. I didn't know them well, you understand, they were in a different year, but you couldn't help noticing them and hearing all about them. Neither of them could ever have faded into the background if they'd tried. It would never have crossed my mind that either of them would betray the other."
Tonks shifted on her seat. There was one other person involved that she wasn't at all sure about. "What about this teacher – the werewolf one? You said he was one of their gang too, do you really trust him? Could they have been working together all year and fooled everybody?"
He shook his head. "Lupin? No. Dumbledore trusted him, for a start, and you'd have to be pretty good to fool Dumbledore for a whole year. More to the point, he wasn't even there when Black's mind was being sifted through, so he didn't have a chance to influence things. I'm sure there's something he isn't telling me, I just don't think it's that. And Black hasn't been spotted at his house."
"How do you kn … oh right. Tracer spells round the Wolf's Lair, like the ones you put on my flat. How reliable are they?"
"I'm not really sure I should tell you …" He pursed his lips, hesitating. "Oh what the hell, with what I've told you already, I suppose I've already made the decision to trust you, haven't I? They're keyed to Black's personal aura; we took an imprint of it when he went into Azkaban. They'd automatically trigger as soon as he crossed the line, unless he was Transfigured into something very different – a rabbit or a hat or whatever. We might have been better off with something like the spells they use on those security maps, but at the time we had to rely on the Patrol to do it and they didn't have anyone capable of casting them. And since both Black and Lupin know how they work, they'd be easier to detect." He smiled wryly. "Oh, and you probably shouldn't refer to Lupin as 'the werewolf one'? I know it's easy to get into bad habits around Auror HQ, but to be fair they're just people when the moon isn't full."
"Hey, I know that," she said defensively. "I've read Hairy Snout, Human Heart. It was a set book for N.E.W.T.s!" She shook herself, feeling embarrassed. "Some of the ones I've met have been OK, but most of them do seem a bit shifty. Can't look you in the eye."
Kingsley smiled. "I'm not surprised, if they know you're from the Ministry. You know, I get that feeling sometimes when I'm out and about in Muggle London?"
"Why? They can't possibly realise you're a wizard, surely?" said Tonks, baffled.
"No, no, it's because of my skin colour," he said with amusement.
"Your skin colour? But that's just ridic … oh."
"Exactly." He gave her an ironic little nod. "Still, I'm no better. I seem to remember telling you I didn't trust Blacks. A lot of their law enforcement people don't seem to trust ... well, blacks, actually, as far as I can tell. We sort by blood, they sort by colour. Same difference, I suppose."
"I suppose." Tonks glanced at the clock and raised her eyebrows; it was surprisingly late, and she knew she would need time to digest this. "Right, mate," she said briskly. "Let's get down to business, shall we? You still haven't said what you want from me. I'd like to find out more, obviously, but I'd prefer not to get the sack for sticking my nose in where I'm not wanted."
"I'm not asking you to," he said quietly. "I would like your help to explore ... well, the background to the case, for a start. Use your family connections to find out what the people who knew him best really thought, maybe get an idea of where he might hide out, who might take him in, whether he could have access to money or other resources. I'd really like to ... well, have a word or two with your cousin before I make up my mind on this."
"Hideouts? What about that old family home? He was seen in London, after all, and it must be empty now since old Great-Aunt Walburga popped her clogs. Or did she disinherit him?"
"Apparently not. I looked it up – it seems there's a tradition that it goes to the oldest male Black regardless, maybe even an entail. So he's now the legal owner. Assuming he could get in, of course. We couldn't even find it exactly – his old man turned it into some kind of fortress – but we put tracer spells on the whole square and a half-mile radius around it, and he hasn't tripped them yet."
"Doesn't the fact that he was in Azkaban make any difference to the will?"
He shook his head. "No, under the Statute of Wizarding Inheritance, criminal convictions don't generally affect property rights. Not only can he inherit, in fact, but the next in line is probably your aunt as his eldest surviving cousin."
Tonks groaned. "Mad Aunt Bella? Wonderful. Isn't there any way to prevent that?"
Kingsley grinned. "If she did us a favour by bumping him off, perhaps. Apparently, in a moment of common sense sometime last century, the Wizengamot decided it would be reasonable to stop people profiting from their crimes – so under the Statute, you aren't allowed to inherit anything from your murder victim, unless there's a specific inheritance enchantment requiring it." He grinned at Tonks' look of disbelief. "Yes, there were pure-blood families that considered fratricide of lesser consequence than dynastic preservation. Not to be rude, but I wouldn't be at all surprised if your mother's family were one of them."
Tonks snorted. "Neither would I. So basically, you want me to play some long shots that can't get you in trouble whatever happens? Thus demonstrating you really can trust me, and we'll take it from there?"
He smiled. "I knew you were sharp. Yes, that's about it."
Flattery will get you ... well, somewhere I suppose. She could feel a headache coming on. "Look, Kingsley, can we leave it here? Please, mate. I need time to take this all in."
"No problem. You'll see me around at work, obviously. Keep that stuff out of sight, and have a quiet word if you find anything. We don't have any new leads, so we'll all be going through the motions with routine investigations – the usual boredom." He picked up his bag and looked around. "Can I Apparate out?"
"What? Oh, yes," she said distractedly. "That's not blocked or anything."
"Good." He nodded at her and treated her to a knowing smile. "Well, thank you for inviting me, Tonks. I'll leave you to your thinking then." With that, he vanished with a small popping sound.
Tonks glanced around her flat with unseeing eyes. It took her a moment or two to realise that she'd started to tremble from the delayed shock reaction. Then she quickly scooped up the rolls of parchment, took them into her bedroom, and stashed them away in the small secret compartment at the bottom of her wardrobe. It was charmed against both magical and non-magical intrusion, but she'd rarely had any real use for it before. She added another password charm for good measure, then glanced into her mirror, and was not at all surprised to see someone rather frazzled looking back.
"You look terrible, dear," said the mirror in a tone of concern. "Rough night?"
"Rough?" said Tonks with a dull laugh. "You're not kidding,"
-----
September 1994
After the highly eventful day her Monday had been – indeed, after the highly eventful month her entire August had been – Tonks was privately relieved that the beginning of September turned out to be a far quieter time that gave her the opportunity for careful consideration.
The most important topic, of course, was the bombshell that Shacklebolt had dropped out of a clear sky. She spent the next several evenings reading through the pile of notes he'd left behind and attempting to digest their contents. As she did, she found herself beginning – with an uncomfortable mixture of familiar reluctance and highly unsettling hope – to draw the same conclusions that he had. The accepted story of the case, the one reported in the newspapers, really didn't make a lot of sense – and unlike most of the other cases reported in the newspapers, it didn't make any more sense once you'd seen the additional information in the Auror files.
On the other hand ... although the story her cousin had told did seem to fit some of the facts rather better than expected – if you were willing, just for the sake of argument, to start from its premises – there was still the problem that there was no evidence to suggest those premises were reasonable ones, and several things about the story were just as unlikely as the official line.
Tonks couldn't shake the feeling that she was missing something simple but terribly important.
Kingsley might have labelled routine investigations as 'boredom' – but Tonks actually found them quite relaxing under the circumstances. The Wizengamot were dragging their feet over the warrant for Charlotte Perks, while privately, and contradictorily, giving them a nod-and-a-wink indication that it would shortly be forthcoming. The team's somewhat cynical consensus was that the sudden influx of requests for warrants had overburdened the limited ability of the Administration Services bureaucracy to process the necessary paperwork. Cassius seemed surprisingly unconcerned by this, informing the rest of them in an airy manner that it wouldn't hurt to let their suspect have the opportunity to 'think things over' for a while.
Miss Perks was certainly going to have every opportunity to do that. The analysis of the bottle found at her house came in a few days after the arrest, and to Tonks' excitement it did indeed contain a trace of Liquor of Jacmel (a fact immediately passed on in the hope of speeding up the Wizengamot's decision). The information proved quite convenient in other ways too; their suspect's legal representative had tried his best to get her out of Auror custody, so Cassius charged her with 'possession of Liquor of Jacmel' – on the grounds that even a few drops were enough to keep her in the holding area of Azkaban.
Meanwhile, O'Gregan had informed Mackenzie Ashford about the arrest of his niece and the evidence found in her home, which news had left him predictably shattered. The Irishman reported sadly that it was clear the man had been hoping against hope that it hadn't really been one of his family who were involved, and even dropped round on a couple of occasions away from work to attempt to console Ashford. Tonks was amused, although it did raise her opinion of her colleague a notch or two.
However, both she and Cassius were happy to push the Ashford case to the backs of their minds and leave it to the other two to work on, while they themselves concentrated on the Ballantyne murder. With occasional help from the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol, they started the slow process of interviewing everyone they could find who knew, or might have known, Sylvester Ballantyne.
Tonks had her suspicions of Benjamin Farley, given that he had been dosed with Liquor of Jacmel and might be seeking revenge; but when they called on him, he vehemently denied knowing Ballantyne or anything about his murder, with a look so comically panic-stricken that she reluctantly accepted he was probably telling the truth even without the assistance of Veritaserum. More to the point, there was no record of him visiting Ballantyne, and he seemed completely baffled when Tonks mentioned the concept of a telephone conversation.
After the arrest of Charlotte Perks, Tonks had half written off Portia Blackstock's connection to the affair as just one of those apparently inexplicable things that would doubtless become clearer in time. She had half-hoped that a bottle of Polyjuice Potion would turn up in Charlotte Perks' hiding place along with the Jacmel, but there was no trace of such a thing – and as Cassius pointed out, they would still have to prove that Charlotte had a link to Portia before it became relevant, not to mention break her still-solid Parisian alibi for the night in question.
Much to Tonks' surprise, however, O'Gregan and Cornworthy were taking their plan to trail Portia in search of such a connection seriously. Her colleagues were spending many of their work hours in Birmingham – taking turns to follow her around doggedly under a requisitioned Invisibility Cloak, and making discreet inquiries among both women's contacts trying to find a link between them. Much to Tonks' amusement, they had little of value to show for it.
Portia seemed to have no especially close friends or companions ("not even a hint of a serious boyfriend, what a bloody waste," Cornworthy reported dryly). When she ventured out, she spent a little time at the offices of the charity at which she helped out (without seeming to do very much, except make light gossip with her fellow volunteers). She spent a lot of time shopping (but not from any notably disreputable vendors). Occasionally, she visited a beauty salon in the Magical Market (at the thought of entering this, even while invisible, O'Gregan blanched and called in Rhiannon Davies to help). She went to a formal evening function with her parents on one occasion (spending most of it looking politely bored and allowing the rest of the table to make dinner-party conversation). And she spent much of her time at home (where even O'Gregan had the common sense not to interfere). In fact, in general she behaved over these weeks in a manner that the Irishman described in disgust as 'exceptionally vacuous'.
Tonks grinned and went back to studying the transcripts of the latest round of interviews, and surreptitiously checking out the daily bulletins for any developments in the Sirius Black case.
-----
Another side benefit of the slower pace of work-related events at the beginning of September was that it finally allowed Tonks the leisure to meet up with Chesney Thompson from time to time, just to see what might happen – at first, over a quick lunch break in the Ministry canteen, then longer lunches in the slightly less hectic setting of Florean Fortescue's, followed by actual proper dates out on the town. Her mirror was beginning to get snappy with her again, after giving its opinion on suitable hair styling for the seventh time in as many minutes.
Tonks smiled to herself as she sat in the Leaky Cauldron one evening and considered the boyfriend she seemed to have acquired without quite planning to. The wizarding folk group that had been playing a set (a truly terrible one, as it happened) had taken a refreshment break, and Ches was currently fighting his way through the crowds at the bar. He was, she decided, definitely a nice bloke – in fact the way he was acting, it almost seemed as if he'd taken lessons in being a gentleman from Cassius Smethwyck. Or then again, maybe he's just a little hapless! Tonks actually wasn't bothered either way; at least it kept things nice and relaxed. She had far too many complications going on in her life already for the moment to bother dating anyone who was going to cause her further hassle.
"What did you think of the show then?" he said as he returned with another round of drinks.
"Honest answer?"
"Please ..."
She grinned. "Bloody awful!"
He grinned back in relief. "Whew, I'm glad you said that. I was afraid you'd think they were the next Weird Sisters, and I'd have to lie my head off."
"Yeah, right," Tonks laughed. "How did they ever get a booking?"
He shrugged. "There aren't all that many wizarding bands, I suppose. My brother said they weren't bad, but then the one who was playing the guitar at the back is an old mate of his."
"Him?" Tonks raised her eyebrows. "He couldn't get the notes right if he charmed the strings! Come to think of it, I reckon he did. I'm sure I saw him playing one-handed at some point."
"Wouldn't be surprised. He always was lazy. Alfie – my big brother – reckoned he's got doing things at the last minute down to a fine art. Always been like that, even as a kid at school."
"Didn't we all?" Tonks chuckled.
"Fair point," he said, smiling. "You know, I don't remember you, but you must have been there when I was."
"Must have been about five years behind you, though," Tonks pointed out. On the whole, she hoped he didn't remember her, as her schooldays behaviour had been considerably less respectable than that which might be considered to befit a future Auror. And she didn't particularly want Chesney to put two and two together, and associate her with the troublemaking Metamorphmagus who had achieved a certain minor notoriety. She breathed a slight sigh of relief as he gave no sign of making the connection.
"True. Weird how conversations on dates often seem to come back to Hogwarts, isn't it? Erm, I mean ..." He trailed off, looking slightly embarrassed.
"Yeah, I know, I've noticed it too," said Tonks, smirking at his confusion. "That's the bloody trouble with being a witch or a wizard, everybody anywhere near your age went to the same school at the same time! Maybe we should make a new rule: always prefer someone at least seven years older. Or younger," she added with a smirk.
"Oh ... right," said Chesney, with an uncertain look.
Tonks smiled mischievously. "Never mind, Ches. For you, I'll make an exception."
"Good." His grin returned. "Not ashamed to be seen in public with me then?"
Tonks glanced around in exaggerated fashion. "No, I suppose not. After all, I let you drag me out here to watch dreadful bands, didn't I? And if all else fails and somebody sees me, I could always Memory Charm them or something to keep up my reputation."
"Oh yeah. So, would you be willing to risk a big Ministry bash with me then? If you're going ... I mean, it's a good do usually ..."
"The Ministry Hallowe'en Ball, you mean?" said Tonks, interested. "Yeah, I've already got my ticket for that. Does that mean I don't have to look for a partner as well?"
"Well, if you'd like to ..."
Tonks smiled. "Of course I would, you twit. Thanks for asking. As long as you don't mind not much actual dancing being involved, though? I don't do dances."
"Why not?" he said, a little crestfallen.
She smiled again, rather sadly this time. "Come on Ches. You know me well enough by now, don't you? I sometimes trip over my own feet when I'm walking. Trying to do a foxtrot is a bit ... well, ambitious."
"Ah." He looked at her in assessment for a moment, then what looked very like an evil grin spread across his face. "Well, we may be able to do something about that."
"What?" she asked suspiciously.
"Wait and see!"
And try as she might, no amount of cajoling or threatening would get any more out of him than that. She briefly considered the possibility of being worried by whatever it was he had in mind, but then decided just to let it go. After all, she really didn't need any more complications to worry about.