It was a very ordinary grey galvanised bucket with traces of brownish residue in the bottom. Tonks looked at it. 'Nasty puddle on the floor?' she enquired.
'Didn't happen,' soothed Thomas. 'Won't happen. Probably. So, you need to concentrate . . .''
'So why the bucket?'
Thomas grinned fiendishly. 'Aide memoir.'
'I'm not sure this is a good idea. The last time I was a dragon I ate . . .'
'I know, good thing too, but don't worry. Last time you came at it from being a chicken. This time it's from human. S'different. See?'
'Really? You think it'll make that much of a difference?
Thomas pursed up his lips. 'Well. Probably. You being a Metamorphmagus an' all, it's hard to say. It's well known that Animagi do 'ave snacks sometimes. Even 'domesticated' ones that shouldn't. Still, nothing to worry about. Go on.'
Tonks closed her eyes and concentrated.
'No, no, no, no, no,' said Thomas. You don't apparate by walking. "Destination, determination, and deliberation?" Same idea. "Form, fix it and . . . flow.' He made the last word sound like an indecent proposition. 'Go on.' Tonks looked at him. Thomas looked at her. His head angled down towards his shoulder until he was squinting at her sideways. 'Can you remember doing it before?'
'Sorry, no,' said Tonks, wondered why terrible things didn't happen often enough to people who are enthusiastic when you're feeling hungover. 'I got bashed on the head shortly after.'
'Well. How do you think you were feeling?'
'Angry?' suggested Tonks. 'Annoyed? Scared?' An eighteen foot crocodile lunged at her like a flat green train. Tonks leapt into the air and flew higher.
'You can come back down now,' yelled Thomas who had morphed back. 'You don't want to go too far. There's a very strong magical field at this end of the building. Tends to warp things. Come back down now, there's a good girl.'
Tonks set down gently just outside the circle. Thomas circled her grinning. 'Always comes as a surprise, that,' he said. 'Very helpful that is.' Tonks followed him with her eyes, her long neck rotating as he passed behind her. He looked equally mad upside down. Being a dragon had done something to her thinking, she decided. Still human, it felt as if some aspects of her normal mindset might be . . . attenuated, if not missing. She suspected that if she'd really been annoyed with Thomas he'd have been in very serious trouble.
'Oh, very good indeed,' concluded Thomas. 'Hang on now, we'll need a picture.' From a drawer came a boxy looking camera. 'Instant pictures. Amazing what magic can do these days. Hold still.' There was a flash that made Tonks blink and a whirr as a flat rectangle was ejected from the camera. 'Just have to wait a bit.' The grin reappeared. 'Don't suppose you'd like to come out with me? We reptiles ought to stick together.' Tonks breathed out a plume of greyish smoke. 'Oh well. Think about it.' Thomas peeled the rectangle apart and showed Tonks the photograph. 'There's lovely, girl. You can turn back now whenever you like.'
Tonks turned to look at herself in the mirror. She was considering the long neck and tail, the elegant architecture of her wings, the equine head with its tufts of iridescent feathers and was coming to quite cheerful conclusions when the mirror shattered as though hit with a brick. Tonks leapt backwards and there was a clatter as her tail caught the bucket and sent if flying into the darkness. She'd the impression that, just before it disappeared, it hadn't been a bucket any more. It had looked more like a small grey pig. Tonks morphed to human and turned back to the mirror: the bright spider's web of cracks radiating out from a point near the centre. 'What happened to that?' she asked.
'Oh dear. Oh dear,' whispered Thomas, suddenly not looking so good.
Tonks took his arm gently. What's with the mirror?'
'The thing is, the Ministry is connected to all of magical Britain,' began Thomas, not taking his eyes from the glittering web. 'It always was. Something in the Department of Mysteries. Any stresses or imbalances show up here in the fabric of the Ministry building. It got worse when they extended and put in the new lifts at the other end. When they put the lifts in, it all got concentrated down this end. That's when they put the mirror in, see? To warn them about the stresses. Although what they think they'll do about it . . .' The cracks had begun to drop out of the mirror, the surface flowing back to its earlier perfection. 'There's still stairs in there, you know? Behind the curtain.' He pulled his eyes away from the reflecting surface. 'Look, sit down a minute and I'll sort out the paperwork for you.'
Pink forms, a small booklet, glue and official stamps were produced and, in record time, Tonks was holding something about the size of a passport to confirm her animagus status. 'Thank you,' she said and then the mirror cracked again
Thomas blinked. 'You're an Auror,' he said. 'Perhaps you wouldn't mind doing something for me?' He swallowed hard. 'Go and see what floor we're on.'
Tonks drew her wand. To the beat of her own heels, she crossed the open floor towards the mirror which was set back a little way behind the curtain leaving a sort of passageway on either side. She turned round and Thomas pointed to his left.
'Lumos!' said Tonks, stepping behind the curtain. A short way down the passageway, the edge of the mirror gave way to peeling paintwork. At eye level, a black, cast iron hand bearing an enamel 'Exit' sign pointed towards a large pair of double-hinged doors. There were long vertical glass panels set into the doors but only darkness behind them. Tonks leant on one and it opened reluctantly, magic or a strong spring pushing the door back at her. She slid her wand into the gap. There was the usual musty smell of unused spaces with something suggestive of disturbed earth underlying it. Beyond the door, a dusty iron handrail came down from the darkness, turned and continued its descent. On the wall behind, another enamel sign, identical to those telling the floor at the other end of the building, wasn't quite readable. Without letting go of the door, Tonks edged closer and something cold crept down her spine. There weren't half that number of floors in the building. 'Sixteen,' she announced.
There was a muffled expletive and the sound of drawers banging. Tonks retraced her steps and came back out from being the curtain to find Thomas lifting his hat from a hat stand that hadn't been there before. He already had on his coat. 'It's been up to forty-two when Voldemort was about,' he announced. 'Never seen it change so fast before, though. Not in a one. Think it's time I took some sick leave.' He began to wrap a scarf around his neck. It occurred to Tonks that that doorway out to the corridor seemed further away than it had been and glanced down to discover that fernlike patterns were emerging from the circle of grubby paint surrounding Thomas' furniture. She realised that his 'office' occupied what had once been a lobby for the stairwell.
'Best get out of here,' said Thomas. 'Come on.' He seized her arm and hustled her across the floor. As he opened the door, Tonks glanced back. The furniture was definitely further away and now seemed oddly warped with dull prismatic effects along the edges.
Like looking through a lens thought Tonks, and got out through the door fast.
Back in the corridor Thomas locked and double locked the door behind him. 'I'd best inform the Department of Mysteries.' He said and sucked his teeth. 'Good luck, girl.'
