Tonks displayed her Auror's badge in front of her like a shield as she stood on the deck of the SS Steamer, her boots slick with the remains of salty waves sloshing over the bow. She'd had to show the badge once to the guards on the mainland when she and Bill appeared at the departure dock, twice to get the proper clearance for the boat, and repeatedly to every official present as they boarded the unmanned vessel headed for Azkaban prison.
Beside her, Bill had his hands wrapped tightly around the handrail, anxious to see for himself whether the man who'd given him the scar running down his left cheek was still where he ought to be.
"Are you ready for this?" she asked.
"Are you?" Bill kept his gaze level with the horizon as the boat lurched, bumping the dock at the base of the island fortress in the middle of the North Sea. The ropes snaked their way towards the dock, wrapping securely around the posts. Tonks figured that since they were about to get off the boat and enter the most secure prison in all of the Wizarding World, it'd be a waste of time to put her badge away now.
At the entrance, they were greeted by a member of the Security Officials and Very Important Wizards, who sat at a long steel table, his only companions being a small notepad and a tin of biscuits. He checked his notes and then looked them up and down.
"State your business."
Tonks flashed her badge. "My associate, Chancey, and I are here to interview a prisoner."
The official snapped his notebook closed and stood at attention. "Yes, of course. I've been waiting. He's on level three."
Tonks signed forms and filled out a Visitor's Request, noting that the official's uniform was not quite up to code, but didn't say anything. He led them down a corridor and two flights of stairs that ended at a narrow landing that opened to a long hallway. White doors ran along the hall with little windows covered by mesh. The guard stopped them at number eleven.
"Here we are."
Tonks peered inside and saw a bony, ridge-backed werewolf with matted hair.
"He's transformed," she said. "Why?"
"We don't ask," the official said. "He's like that most of the time. We just make sure he stays where he is. Oh, and bring his visitors."
"Someone visits him?" Bill asked.
"Some old lady comes at supper and smells like mothballs. The lucky sod's granted one visitor a day for ten minutes, and takes full advantage."
"His visits are supervised, yeah?" Tonks asked the official. "Little old lady–" she pointed to the window. "Werewolf?"
"I suppose. I've only seen the woman a few times, but her name's on the visitor log all the time. 'Delphine Uberwald', it says. She comes like clockwork, right as my shift ends."
Bill peered through the window and then exchanged looks with Tonks. "I can't say for sure that that–" he pointed to the werewolf half asleep in the padded room, "is Greyback. I've never seen him so…"
"Drugged?" Tonks offered. The Wolfsbane kept werewolves sane and in control during their transformation, and sometimes made them sleepy, but she'd never seen a werewolf so lethargic and comatose. Lycanthropy – the transformation, made their brains go haywire – stimulating them, not putting them to sleep, which was why the virus was so dangerous, and why Wolfsbane was so important. "I guess if he's been in wolf form for over a year, then he'd maybe be exhausted."
"He's not always in wolf form." The official pointed to a roll of human clothes bundled up in the corner. "Sometimes he wears those."
"And he's Fenrir Greyback when he's human, right?"
"That's what his papers say."
Tonks wasn't impressed with this so-called official who didn't seem to know very much about the things that she and Bill had come all this way to learn. The man in the rumpled uniform led them back to the entrance, insisting that the next shift would have to give them access to the prisoner.
"There's something fishy going on here," Tonks whispered to Bill as they watched him exchange badges and keys with another official who had just gotten off the boat. The two officials exchanged words, and then the new bloke approached them, wearing a pressed and well-fitting uniform, complete with Security Official cap tilted back on his head. His respectable attire put his predecessor to shame.
"You here for a prisoner?" he asked Tonks, talking more to the Auror robe than to the woman wearing it.
Well, Tonks thought. This official looked more promising than the last one. "No, we're here to interview a visitor."
"We are?" Bill asked, as Tonks tried to subtly shush him.
"Older woman. Visits the werewolf on level three."
"Oh, her?" the official rubbed at his nose. "What do you want with the smelly old bat?"
"Just a few questions. And we need a favor from you."
The official's ears practically perked up. He probably owned a terrier that acted the same way when offered treats. "Favor, eh? What sort?"
"We want to observe the visitation."
The official looked to the side and squinted a bit. "Oh, well…"
Tonks clinked a couple of galleons together in her pocket, which got the official's attention. She palmed them into his hand. If this didn't work, she'd have gotten her boots salt-soaked for nothing.
"Done," he said.
"But we don't want to be seen," Tonks added, giving him another handful of coins, pushing her luck.
The official gave her a short salute. "Wait here."
"What are you doing?" Bill asked.
"You said you weren't sure that was really Greyback in there. Remus could tell when he got close enough. He said the smell of his sire was unmistakable. I know you're not a full Were, but you've recently transformed, so it's worth a try. We just have to get you close enough."
"Alright," Bill said. "You've convinced me. But how did you know that the official would take a bribe?"
"He's dressed to impress," Tonks said. "That means something around here."
Just as the first official had said, the visitation boat was right on time for supper. The official had her wait at the entrance, while he set up Tonks and Bill in a small observation room behind a one-way pane of glass covered in Safety Spells. The air vibrated around them. They were some of the strongest security wards she'd ever felt.
Bill agreed. "These are close to the strength of the wards in Gringotts," he said. "Not quite their full strength, but a close rival."
"Interesting," Tonks said as they watched the official lead an older woman with thick white hair and a walking cane into the room. She wore a blouse of old lace and had a large, emerald ring on her right hand. The jewel looked like it might weigh more than she did. The old woman hoisted a large handbag onto the plain wooden table and sat down in the chair farthest away from the glass.
"I wonder who that is," Bill muttered.
"It's not his mother," Tonks said.
"How do you know?"
"He killed her. It was in his file."
Bill stared at the woman. "There's something strange about her," he started, but was interrupted by the door opening again.
The werewolf was led into the room, bound by shackles and chains, more pathetic looking than he'd been in his cell. He was wearing the human clothes, a grey and black striped set of plain button down shirt and pants. He sat wearily in the chair closest to the observation glass. The official fastened his chains to the table and stepped back, nodding to the visitor.
"There's the old chap now," the woman said, her voice low and gravelly. She took a large thermos out of her handbag, discreetly added something to it and shook it up. Then she pushed it across the table.
"There ya go," she said, sounding like too much gin and cigars. "It's his favorite."
The official took the thermos, careful to keep it away from his nose, and helped the werewolf drink it.
"Ugh," he said as the werewolf messily drank whatever was in it.
To their surprise, the werewolf suddenly shimmered, changing into Greyback in his human form, right before their eyes.
The woman patted the back of Greyback's hand. "Calmed the beast right down, didn't it? And for being such a nice young man, I brought something for you, too." She put a small pouch into the official's hand, which he squirreled away. Then she got up and left.
"That's not Wolfsbane," Bill said.
"No kidding. Let's go." Tonks and Bill left the observation room just as the man in chains was being led out of the visitor's room. The little old lady, stinking of all the decades that had passed her by, teetered unsteadily and put a frail hand on Bill. She patted his chest appreciatively and went on her way.
Bill tensed up, pulling a strange bundle of herbs out of his breast pocket. "What's this?" He turned his head to the side and sniffed, keeping his eyes on the man in chains who was wearing Greyback's skin. "That's not Greyback," he said, and then pointed to the frail woman who was nimbly climbing up the stairs without using her cane.
"That is!"
The old woman sneered at them, and Tonks started after her, dodging the cane that came flying at her head. She sprinted up the stairs, following the fugitive who had more strength and speed than a frail old lady should. The woman ran straight through the security checkpoint, tipping over the table and spilling the tin of biscuits.
"Hey!" the official shouted after them, panting as he reached his post, and then yelled "Hey!" again when Tonks and Bill followed straight through, crushing the biscuits under their feet.
The person, whoever it really was, and Tonks was almost certain that Bill was right and it was somehow Greyback, looked back and sneered again. "Better drink your coffee, Weasley!" she called, tearing off to the docks. The woman leapt onto the waiting boat which must have sat just behind the anti-apparition point, because she suddenly disappeared with a loud crack.
Tonks swore and turned to see Bill painting behind her, half unhinged.
"That was… I can't…" he heaved.
"It's okay. We'll get him, I promise." Tonks said.
"I know that. " His hands were shaking. "We have to get out of here."
Tonks slung her arm around him and they started running to the apparition point where the old lady had gone.
"We're not sure where he went, you know that."
"Hurry," Bill rasped.
Tonks anchored her foot on the deck of the boat and prepared to side-along with him. His pulse raced, frantic under her grasp. "You don't look so good," she said to him, seeing that he'd turned pale and sickly. "Where do you need to go?"
"Away from here!" he growled, sprouting a nasty set of fangs. "It's coming!"