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snorkackcatcherI've just submitted revised versions of a number of chapters of NTLJ to FictionAlley, which incorporate some relatively minor changes needed to make the story HBP-compliant. If you don't want to trudge back and read the chapters, fair enough - I've posted the important changed paragraphs below. I also took the opportunity to make a few minor edits, such as using the correct French for the Haitian version of the Ministry of Magic (thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
maple_clef and lareinenoire for the heads-up on that).
Please note Rufus Scrimgeour is now Cassius' great-nephew. This seemed close enough that they'd know each other, not close enough for it to seem inconsistent that no-one in the books has made a remark along the lines of "Did you know Tonks started her career as the partner of a relative of the new Minister?".
ETA: I've submitted a revised revised version of chapter 22 to make Rufus the one in charge of the investigation into the World Cup fiasco rather than Claymore (details below the cut). Since this investigation is largely background to the plot of NTLJ (after all, we already know they didn't actually catch anybody), this was doable without affecting the story that much, and it brings things more into line with the situation we have at the start of HBP where there was an overall Head of the Auror Office, which it had previously been Rufus. (I know, it's one of those things where no-one except the author much cares. But I like to keep things as consistent as possible, dammit.) As it happened, I was able to use most of what was Claymore's dialogue in that scene more or less unchanged for Rufus, except for making it slightly more diplomatic.
Prologue - Round Midnight
Actually, the text of the prologue itself is the same, but the introductory notes have been updated.
Chapter 1 - First Impressions
Made some very minor changes in the interview scene, and added some brief notes at the end, to explain why Tonks seems to know Sirius well in this story. (And was also pleased to note in passing that Featherstone's comments about half-blood Death Eaters seem to fit old Sevvie quite nicely.)
Also added a few more notes to the introductory Tonks-makes-breakfast scene to give a little bit more detail about her in a possibly doomed attempt to make that scene less dull:
Chapter 2 - The Oldest Newcomer in the Business
Cassius is talking about his background:
Chapter 3 - The Liquor of Jacmel
Revised version of the notes on the Liquor of Jacmel, and Tonks' reactions to them:
Chapter 10 - Getting Into Fights
Dawlish is lecturing the class on basic magical combat techniques:
Chapter 17 - Clearing the Decks
Cassius is explaining to Tonks why she was posted to the Central Division:
Chapter 22 - The Morning After The Night Before
The team meet at the main offices, and Amelia Bones turns up with some surprising news:
Tonks and Rhiannon wearily Apparated to the Ministry at half past nine the following morning, and as soon as they reached Auror Headquarters joined the queue for the coffee that had been thoughtfully provided. In fact, Tonks felt so tired that she'd hoped for an urn of Potion of Wakefulness. (But since that required a sleepless night to brew, it would have rather optimistic to hope they could have rustled up enough of the stuff at short notice. Large quantities of black coffee was the next best thing, and at least it didn't taste like old socks.)
As Rhiannon poured out two large mugs full from the spigot, Tonks spotted that the morning's Daily Prophet special edition had been attached to the wall with a Sticking Charm. She skimmed through it. It didn't make pleasant reading.
"Skeeter her usual fair and balanced self, is she?" asked Rhiannon bitterly, when she noticed what Tonks was doing.
"Yeah, let's see ... Ministry blunders ... innocent campers fled in terror ... lax security procedures ... offenders escaped scot-free ... Dark Magic openly used ... it will take years for our country to live down this national disgrace played out in front of the entire wizarding world ... blah blah blah."
"Cow. Oh wonderful. Claymore's going to be chewing rocks and spitting out gravel over this, and it wasn't even his responsibility."
"Yeah." Tonks glanced around; there were far more than the usual number of Aurors here; to her surprise, she even recognised some of her classmates from training who had been posted to other offices. "Have they got every Auror in the country here?" she muttered, taking the proffered mug.
"Don't think so, but I wouldn't be surprised," said Rhiannon in a low voice. "Claymore can't officially order them about unless they're Central Division, but I bet he's going to have a damn good try." She nodded towards one end of the room, where Claymore was sitting with a group of other senior-looking Aurors, deep in serious and rather heated conversation.
"Who's he talking to?" asked Tonks.
"Them? They're the other Division heads. I know most of them; the one next to him is Diarmuid Fitzpatrick from Dublin -- Donnie knows him quite well, that's where he started out. The one at the end there is Gawain Robards from the Welsh Division -- that's where I started out. And the woman in the dark blue robes is Emily Farbright, she works out of Birmingham."
They made their way over to the cubicles, where Cassius and Donnacha O'Gregan were sitting, looking equally tired. Tonks raised her eyebrows.
"I thought you two were still on holiday?" she said.
O'Gregan snorted, picked up a piece of mauve parchment and waved it at them. "Not any more. All leave cancelled until further notice. Orders straight from Amelia Bones, no less. Do you get the impression they're a bit miffed at the way things went with those fellows in masks, now?"
Tonks grinned. "You've sobered up enough to work, then?"
"I was stone cold sober and working last night," he replied with dignity. "My darling girl here came to check on me, and I asked her to cast a Sobriety Spell so I could help." Rhiannon nodded in confirmation.
"And I came back to do what I could too, once Rufus and I had got the rest of the family out of harm's way," added Cassius tiredly. "Little as that was. You know, I thought I'd left this sort of thing behind when I retired? I never expected to see Death Eaters on the march again."
"We're sure it was them, then?" asked Rhiannon.
"Who else could it be?" said Cassius, shrugging. "Someone sent a Dark Mark up, after all."
"Scared the masked lot off, though," said Tonks thoughtfully, mulling it over. "I was watching them. Now I think about it, it was a bit odd, really. They all vanished as soon as it appeared, and they didn't do anything else after that, did they? The ones I actually saw Disapparate looked like they were panicking." She glanced around speculatively. "It couldn't have been some other group trying to act big and make a name for themselves, and ... oh I don't know, an ex-Death Eater got annoyed when he saw them cavorting about, and tried to throw a scare into them? 'Hey lads, you want to play at being Death Eaters? Well, meet the real thing.'"
"Might be, I suppose, but that doesn't sound much better," said O'Gregan, with a gloomy look. "If they weren't You-Know-Who's old pals holding a nice little reunion party, it just means we've got another bunch o'nutters on our hands who like to dress up in masks and torment Muggles. Lovely. Either way, it'll be no fun for us, now, will it?"
"Why now, though?" asked Rhiannon curiously. "They've been keeping their heads down for years, why would they suddenly risk doing this with the whole world watching? You don't ..." She shivered, gulped, and continued more quietly. "You don't think they've got some sort of indication that You-Know-Who is on his way back?" The others shuddered.
"How would he do that?" asked O'Gregan in a reassuring voice. "No-one's heard a peep from him for years, if he's even still alive."
"I don't know about that, Donnie," said Rhiannon in a worried tone. "He was supposed to be controlling that teacher that got killed at Hogwarts a couple of years ago." Seeing the looks of surprise from her colleagues, she added, "My little cousin Roger told me. He said the whole school seemed to know what had happened, even if no-one ever confirmed it officially."
"Right ..." said O'Gregan, discomfited. "Of course, the boys in masks could just have been doing it because they'd had too much to drink."
Tonks bit her lip and cast her mind back to the way the wizards had marched across the field. "They seemed too well-drilled for that," she said. "Like ... like they'd practiced it beforehand. The ones who came to join them afterwards might well have been sloshed, but not the bunch in the middle ..." Her eyes widened in sudden recollection. "Oh, wait a minute ... I forgot!" She smacked her forehead, hard.
"What?" said Cassius, looking up with interest.
A few words, spoken in an immensely smug voice, came back to her: 'Father had some people to see. We had to provide them with somewhere civilised to meet.' She groaned. "I've just remembered. I met my little cousin on the site -- Draco, Lucius Malfoy's son? He said his dad was hosting a meeting there, and they practically had a bloody marquee! What's the betting they were doing some last-minute work on their moves for the big night?"
The others exchanged glances. "Malfoy? The slimy blond one who throws his money around and smarms up to Fudge? Not a bad shot," said O'Gregan judiciously. "What do you think, Cassius?"
Cassius was looking at Tonks with uncertainty, perhaps remembering her harsh attitude when Lucius Malfoy's name had come up before. Damn. He thinks I'm overreacting. I knew I shouldn't have let my guard down. "Possible, I suppose," he said. "I wouldn't trust him an inch, but it's not proof of anything. But it's an interesting piece of information," he added hastily, holding up a hand to forestall Tonks' indignant reply. "You'd better mention it to whoever's going to coordinate the investigation. I know young Rufus was railing about the sloppy security last night -- he was absolutely furious with what happened, sure that someone must have useful information. He went off looking for someone senior to discuss it with."
"Right." Tonks glanced at her watch; it was still only five to ten. "I suppose we'll find out who's running this in a few minutes." She looked around curiously. "Where's Arnie got to, anyway?"
O'Gregan shrugged. "Haven't seen him. And we can't contact him, which is bloody annoying -- they switched off access to all mirror phones, presumably so our Egbert won't get interrupted while he's yelling at us."
"They can do that?"
"Apparently," said Cassius. "K's always full of little tricks like that. I hope the rumour flying round that one of our senior people was thinking of retiring isn't referring to him -- no-one else knows how to make half the stuff he comes up with! I've actually grown quite fond of these gadgets."
"Me too," said O'Gregan. "I can even call me mam on them. Anyway, I'm not worried about Arnie; probably just had something he needed to follow up. They can't drag everyone in here, can they, not when they have things to look into?"
"No, I suppose they ca ..." Rhiannon trailed off as a small group swept past them. Tonks looked on in trepidation as she recognised Amelia Bones herself, accompanied by Dawlish, a couple of harassed-looking wizards she took to be her assistants, and a tall, thin man with glasses and a lot of yellowish hair, who was walking quickly despite a trace of a limp.
O'Gregan whistled quietly. "Can it be now that they are taking this seriously," he said. "Cassius, isn't that ..."
"My great-nephew from the Northern Division?" said Cassius with a frown. His expression was that of a man who had just bitten into something with a mildly unpleasant taste. "Yes, it is. What's he doing with Amelia, I wonder?"
"Good question," muttered Tonks, staring at the senior officials as they marched to the end of the room. Amelia Bones pulled out her wand and deftly Conjured a small raised platform, on which they all climbed, then held up a hand for silence. The few people holding murmured conversations immediately fell quiet. She fitted her monocle into her eye, and looked around grimly.
"Right," she said in a booming voice. "You should all know me, I head this Department. This meeting is to tell you what we intend to do about last night's fiasco. And as far as I'm concerned the only good thing about that is that the buck stops on the desks of Barty Crouch and Ludo Bagman, not on mine. You don't have to write this down," she snapped at a Departmental scribe who was attempting to take minutes. He flushed and hastily dropped his quill.
"Be that as it may, however, we're the ones who have to pick up the pieces," she continued. "The Minister has been embarrassed at a global event, so he wants action. So do I. I want those filth rounded up and soon. This is now a Priority A case." There were whistles at this. Two Priority A cases now? Catching my cousin and catching the Death Eaters. There's a pattern here.
"Now I've spent most of the night with my head in a fire talking to other members of the Wizengamot, and we've come to an understanding. I'll have to go down there this afternoon to get it formally confirmed, but what you need to know is this. Firstly, from now on applications for warrants of any kind will be considered swiftly and with a kindly eye. If you need one to search a house or conduct an interrogation, apply. If you have any kind of evidence, you'll get it. That applies to coercive warrants too, especially for the use of Veritaserum. The Chief Warlock has given his personal assurance that he sees, as he puts it, 'no objection to its employment in serious cases', and in an emergency he is even willing to grant permission for use on his own authority if necessary."
She looked around at their raised eyebrows and smiled very slightly. "Don't bother him unless it's an emergency. He's a busy man, and he'll be off to the International Confederation conference in Stockholm soon anyway. Secondly, if you need resources to carry out an investigation, just ask for them. The Wizengamot will be putting aside a special allocation of gold from the budget to get results on this case. And we'll pull people out of other departments if we need to, as we did when Black escaped. Hopefully it'll do some good this time. Thirdly, if you have any wild suspicions or half-arsed theories, don't ignore them, raise them. We'll take suggestions from cave trolls if they turn out to get results."
She gazed sternly at the assembled Aurors through her monocle. "But finally -- don't all go racing around like loose Bludgers on this one and lose sight of the other important cases. You can let most of the minor enquiries go, but not your Priority B investigations. I have no desire to give the Prophet any more chances to complain that we're letting murderers escape. Just use your brains, your initiative, and your common sense. You're all supposed to have them. Right, any questions?"
There was complete silence in the room as the Aurors digested this information. No-one was foolish enough to ask a question.
"Right then," she said. "For those of you who don't know Rufus Scrimgeour here, he's Commander of the Northern Division. He'll be in overall charge of the investigation and coordinating our efforts." Tonks could see Claymore and the other senior Aurors near the front glance at each other; this statement didn't seem to be going down at all well with them. Amelia Bones chuckled. "For you chaps from other Divisions -- I'm sorry, but I need a single point of reference, and Mr Scrimgeour here has some good ideas. Also, his division is well-staffed at the moment compared to their caseload, so I don't mind leaving his deputy in charge. He's authorised to call on any Aurors necessary, whatever Division they're from, and set the direction for the investigation. I want you all to work closely with him and support what he does. If I'm treading on anyone's toes, my apologies, now get over it."
Tonks glanced again at the other Division heads. Their reactions were mostly a mixture of disgruntlement and resignation, but Egbert Claynore looked absolutely livid. She winced; this did not bode well for future events in the Central Division
Amelia Bones turned to the man on her other side: "Warren Dawlish here was the main Auror liaison at the World Cup, and for the moment he'll be continuing to act as liaison between the Auror office, the Minister's office, and Mr Scrimgeour -- who'll be moving to an office here in the Ministry. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some long and tedious meetings to go to. Best of luck, chaps, and get me results." She nodded at the Aurors and strode out the room, followed hastily by her assistants. Nobody spoke until the door had closed behind them.
Tonks exchanged glances with the others. Apparently now Cassius' nephew -- no, great-nephew -- could officially give him orders. Cassius didn't look especially happy at the idea. She wondered briefly what he was like. She caught sight of one of her old classmates, Albert Jenkins, across the room; he winked at her in recognition. She smiled; he was probably going to have a rude awakening if by some chance they ever called on him.
Rufus Scrimgeour himself was currently merely calling for order. "Very well, you've all heard the Head of Department," he said brusquely. "Let's be frank with each other. Last night was one of the biggest cock-ups it's been my misfortune to see since I joined the Department. I'm astonished that no-one even tried to come up with a way to get in among them or get those Muggles out of there."
"Like how?" The words were muttered sullenly by an Auror near the front that Tonks hadn't seen before. She winced in sympathy; unfortunately for him, he spoke just as Rufus Scrimgeour took a pause for breath, so his words could be heard by the whole room.
"How?" snapped Scrimgeour, glaring at the man through his wire-rimmed glasses. "You were there, I take it? You're meant to be an Auror, man, aren't you?" He rounded on them as the hapless Auror flinched. "Did no-one think to Conjure themselves a hood and a mask, join that march, and try to break them up from inside? Or use a Disillusionment Charm on themselves and take advantage of the dark to sneak up on them? Or even just make a Portkey and Banish it towards the Muggles to get them out of there?"
He looked around at the expressions of chagrin on many of the faces. "No, none of you did think, by the look of it. At least the amateurs they had on those so-called security teams had an excuse. They're not supposed to know any better. We've got sloppy since the end of the war! If the Death Eaters had wanted to fight the kind of battle they used to give us, we'd have a casualty list ten feet long this morning."
Easy for you to say now, mate, thought Tonks. You were off getting your family away, you weren't in the thick of it. She could see, looking around, that a number of other people seemed to be thinking the same thing; but all of them had enough sense not to actually say it. As far as she could tell, Rufus Scrimgeour, while slightly more diplomatic, came from pretty much the same mould as Egbert Claymore.
"Right," he said, looking at them sternly. "Let's start thinking now. First off, I need to see all the Division heads in ten minutes time in Madam Bones's office, together with anyone who was acting as a World Cup security supervisor" -- Tonks looked across the room at Kingsley Shacklebolt in sympathy, and saw him wince -- "and anyone who went to investigate that Dark Mark and can perhaps explain to me what the hell Barty Crouch thought he was doing." She heard Rhiannon groan next to her. "Maybe we can plan something for a change. The rest of you, start checking any leads you have. If you don't have any, go and find some. Put all your other cases on the back-burner unless they're both important and urgent. All right, let's get to work." He turned, Vanished the platform and strode out of the room.
Rhiannon looked at the rest of her team with trepidation. "Better not hang about," she said quietly. "Wish me luck." She got up and followed an irate Claymore, a sombre Kingsley Shacklebolt, and a number of other Aurors towards the door.
maple_clef and lareinenoire for the heads-up on that).Please note Rufus Scrimgeour is now Cassius' great-nephew. This seemed close enough that they'd know each other, not close enough for it to seem inconsistent that no-one in the books has made a remark along the lines of "Did you know Tonks started her career as the partner of a relative of the new Minister?".
ETA: I've submitted a revised revised version of chapter 22 to make Rufus the one in charge of the investigation into the World Cup fiasco rather than Claymore (details below the cut). Since this investigation is largely background to the plot of NTLJ (after all, we already know they didn't actually catch anybody), this was doable without affecting the story that much, and it brings things more into line with the situation we have at the start of HBP where there was an overall Head of the Auror Office, which it had previously been Rufus. (I know, it's one of those things where no-one except the author much cares. But I like to keep things as consistent as possible, dammit.) As it happened, I was able to use most of what was Claymore's dialogue in that scene more or less unchanged for Rufus, except for making it slightly more diplomatic.
Prologue - Round Midnight
Actually, the text of the prologue itself is the same, but the introductory notes have been updated.
Chapter 1 - First Impressions
Made some very minor changes in the interview scene, and added some brief notes at the end, to explain why Tonks seems to know Sirius well in this story. (And was also pleased to note in passing that Featherstone's comments about half-blood Death Eaters seem to fit old Sevvie quite nicely.)
Also added a few more notes to the introductory Tonks-makes-breakfast scene to give a little bit more detail about her in a possibly doomed attempt to make that scene less dull:
... She hated to admit it, but there was a jumpy feeling in her stomach, and it wasn’t caused by a Peppermint Toad.
Of course, if she’d known what the next few months would bring, she might well have been even more nervous. Then again, she might not. Nymphadora Tonks was an unusual young woman in many ways, even allowing for the fact that she was a witch.
Firstly, she was newly-qualified as an Auror, one of the elite of magical law enforcement, which was something she took great pride in. She’d dreamed of being an Auror for as long as she could remember; and still couldn’t quite believe that she’d finally made it through the challenges of the training and the rigours of the examinations, let alone the misgivings about her motivations that she’d needed to face before the Ministry would even accept her onto the training course.
Well, at least I will be able to take great pride in it – just as soon as I get to work this morning, she reflected. Technically, she had become an Auror as soon as she passed the final examinations; but Tonks knew it wasn’t going to feel like it until she actually started the job. It had to be this step into the unknown that was causing the uncharacteristic attack of nerves.
Secondly, she was a born Metamorphmagus, and so (unless seriously distracted) able to change her appearance at will. As far as she knew, Metamorphmagi were very rare; certainly none of her instructors in the Auror training classes had taught one before, and most of them had given the impression of working hard to avoid letting her know how highly impressed they were with what she could do.
She thought this talent was quite likely unique among current Ministry employees, and that it was probably going to be immensely useful to her in her new career. It had certainly got her past the Concealment and Disguise exams without any trouble at all. The slightly confused examiners, who had been expecting to test candidates on their skill at self-Transfiguration with a wand, had scratched their heads and finally decided that if she could change her appearance more easily without one, that was probably even better. They had shrugged, awarded her top marks, and passed on to the next candidate.
Thirdly, however, she was extremely clumsy, with an uncanny ability to trip over any solid object that happened to cross her path. In her more reflective moments, she sometimes wondered if this was actually connected to her Metamorphosing ability. It could sometimes be hard to sense where your feet were when your legs were six inches longer than usual.
Then again, even when she was in her normal, natural, everyday form, it still tended to happen, so she had eventually ruefully accepted that it was probably just the way she was. This ‘talent’ probably wasn’t unique, but it promised to be a serious career handicap unless she took great care where she put her feet. It still made her wince to remember the near-disasters on the Stealth and Tracking practical during her final exams.
Of course, if she’d known what the next few months would bring, she might well have been even more nervous. Then again, she might not. Nymphadora Tonks was an unusual young woman in many ways, even allowing for the fact that she was a witch.
Firstly, she was newly-qualified as an Auror, one of the elite of magical law enforcement, which was something she took great pride in. She’d dreamed of being an Auror for as long as she could remember; and still couldn’t quite believe that she’d finally made it through the challenges of the training and the rigours of the examinations, let alone the misgivings about her motivations that she’d needed to face before the Ministry would even accept her onto the training course.
Well, at least I will be able to take great pride in it – just as soon as I get to work this morning, she reflected. Technically, she had become an Auror as soon as she passed the final examinations; but Tonks knew it wasn’t going to feel like it until she actually started the job. It had to be this step into the unknown that was causing the uncharacteristic attack of nerves.
Secondly, she was a born Metamorphmagus, and so (unless seriously distracted) able to change her appearance at will. As far as she knew, Metamorphmagi were very rare; certainly none of her instructors in the Auror training classes had taught one before, and most of them had given the impression of working hard to avoid letting her know how highly impressed they were with what she could do.
She thought this talent was quite likely unique among current Ministry employees, and that it was probably going to be immensely useful to her in her new career. It had certainly got her past the Concealment and Disguise exams without any trouble at all. The slightly confused examiners, who had been expecting to test candidates on their skill at self-Transfiguration with a wand, had scratched their heads and finally decided that if she could change her appearance more easily without one, that was probably even better. They had shrugged, awarded her top marks, and passed on to the next candidate.
Thirdly, however, she was extremely clumsy, with an uncanny ability to trip over any solid object that happened to cross her path. In her more reflective moments, she sometimes wondered if this was actually connected to her Metamorphosing ability. It could sometimes be hard to sense where your feet were when your legs were six inches longer than usual.
Then again, even when she was in her normal, natural, everyday form, it still tended to happen, so she had eventually ruefully accepted that it was probably just the way she was. This ‘talent’ probably wasn’t unique, but it promised to be a serious career handicap unless she took great care where she put her feet. It still made her wince to remember the near-disasters on the Stealth and Tracking practical during her final exams.
Chapter 2 - The Oldest Newcomer in the Business
Cassius is talking about his background:
He was still chatting pleasantly: “We were quite the genteel family back then. Actually, my parents weren’t too pleased with me when I joined up; they thought the job rather unbecoming for a Scrimgeour. You had to start in the ordinary Magical Law Enforcement Patrol in those days and work your way up, you see, but by the time I made it to Auror they’d become used to the idea. Once I started to do well for myself, one or two of the younger ones in the family were persuaded to follow me into the Department and make a career of it.” There was a twinkle in his eye again. “In fact, it’s quite disconcerting to see how far they’ve progressed in the time I was away. My great-nephew Rufus is actually senior to me now - he’s at Claymore’s level, head of the Northern Division up in Edinburgh. It would have been rather embarrassing if I’d been assigned there, especially as we haven’t always got along that well, frankly. And he might have agreed with you about ‘rogue’. Bit of an all-round black sheep of the family, that’s me.”
Chapter 3 - The Liquor of Jacmel
Revised version of the notes on the Liquor of Jacmel, and Tonks' reactions to them:
The Liquor of Jacmel, sometimes known as Aqua Jacmelis or in the vernacular as the ‘Poor Wizard’s Imperius’, is a traditional potion recorded as brewed around the town of that name in Haiti for at least two hundred years. It is rarely encountered in this country, as it is not only illegal in all civilised wizarding communities, but the precise ingredients and method of manufacture have always been kept a close secret by those Haitian dark wizards and witches skilled in its production.
Analysis has shown it to contain the venom of the puffer fish, and it appears to require extracts of certain magical plants that are found only on the island of Hispaniola. The brewing procedure is completely unknown; although experiments attempting to reproduce it have been officially sanctioned by various Ministries of Magic from time to time, none have been noticeably successful.
Tonks wasn’t particularly surprised at that. At school the Potions master had repeatedly drilled it into his NEWT class that potion-making was a supremely skilled art, and that it usually took many years of patient research to develop new ones from scratch, even if you were sure that you had all the right ingredients. (She’d once landed herself in detention by remarking - in an insufficiently soft voice - that clearly no-one had ever bothered to develop a potion to clean greasy hair.)
She’d never been to Jacmel itself, but she did remember visiting Port-au-Prince during her travels, and she could easily believe that the recipe for the potion wouldn’t be known to outsiders. The local wizarding community had been a close-mouthed lot, barely willing to give you the time of day let alone their secret recipes.
...
Victims of the potion are commonly known among local Muggles as ‘zombies’, and a number of fanciful legends about their nature exist, which are naturally encouraged by the Haitian herbologists who make the potion. The concept of the ‘zombie’ has spread in corrupted form to general Muggle culture outside of the island, in which victims are frequently portrayed as belonging to the undead (although they bear no relation to vampires or ghosts), and attempting to attack or consume the living. This view of ‘zombies’ is very similar to the corpses reanimated by Dark Magic that wizards know as Inferi, and it is therefore unwise to use the term without specifying precisely what is being referred to.
That was it. Zombies ... Both she and her father had been partially right. The films had been frightening, and she’d ended up watching some of them from behind the sofa through the fingers pressed over her eyes. But compared to what You-Know-Who and his crowd were doing at the time - where the walking corpses had once been real people - they hadn’t caused her anywhere near as many nightmares.
...
Liquor of Jacmel is defined as a Class A Non-Tradeable Good under British wizarding law (Regulation of Dangerous Substances Act 1932). The maximum sentences laid down by the Wizengamot are twelve months imprisonment for its possession, ten years for its sale, and life for its use. (It is considered notionally equivalent to the use of an Unforgivable Curse, although the penalties above are not mandatory, and sentences in previous cases have largely depended on what the victim of the potion has been forced to do.)
Analysis has shown it to contain the venom of the puffer fish, and it appears to require extracts of certain magical plants that are found only on the island of Hispaniola. The brewing procedure is completely unknown; although experiments attempting to reproduce it have been officially sanctioned by various Ministries of Magic from time to time, none have been noticeably successful.
Tonks wasn’t particularly surprised at that. At school the Potions master had repeatedly drilled it into his NEWT class that potion-making was a supremely skilled art, and that it usually took many years of patient research to develop new ones from scratch, even if you were sure that you had all the right ingredients. (She’d once landed herself in detention by remarking - in an insufficiently soft voice - that clearly no-one had ever bothered to develop a potion to clean greasy hair.)
She’d never been to Jacmel itself, but she did remember visiting Port-au-Prince during her travels, and she could easily believe that the recipe for the potion wouldn’t be known to outsiders. The local wizarding community had been a close-mouthed lot, barely willing to give you the time of day let alone their secret recipes.
...
Victims of the potion are commonly known among local Muggles as ‘zombies’, and a number of fanciful legends about their nature exist, which are naturally encouraged by the Haitian herbologists who make the potion. The concept of the ‘zombie’ has spread in corrupted form to general Muggle culture outside of the island, in which victims are frequently portrayed as belonging to the undead (although they bear no relation to vampires or ghosts), and attempting to attack or consume the living. This view of ‘zombies’ is very similar to the corpses reanimated by Dark Magic that wizards know as Inferi, and it is therefore unwise to use the term without specifying precisely what is being referred to.
That was it. Zombies ... Both she and her father had been partially right. The films had been frightening, and she’d ended up watching some of them from behind the sofa through the fingers pressed over her eyes. But compared to what You-Know-Who and his crowd were doing at the time - where the walking corpses had once been real people - they hadn’t caused her anywhere near as many nightmares.
...
Liquor of Jacmel is defined as a Class A Non-Tradeable Good under British wizarding law (Regulation of Dangerous Substances Act 1932). The maximum sentences laid down by the Wizengamot are twelve months imprisonment for its possession, ten years for its sale, and life for its use. (It is considered notionally equivalent to the use of an Unforgivable Curse, although the penalties above are not mandatory, and sentences in previous cases have largely depended on what the victim of the potion has been forced to do.)
Chapter 10 - Getting Into Fights
Dawlish is lecturing the class on basic magical combat techniques:
"For the moment, just to start with, we'll be making sure you can use these techniques really proficiently. Go over them till you don't need to think about them. Cast the spells quickly -- shouldn't need to say them at all, if you're good."
The class exchanged looks. "Just like that?" muttered one of them in a sceptical voice. "Not as easy as it sounds doing the spell without the incantation."
In reply, Dawlish nonchalantly pointed his wand at the empty chair next to the speaker. A jet of red light shot out of the end and smashed a hole in the seat, making the hapless trainee yelp and jump out of the way.
"Just like that," he said with a slight twitch of the mouth that might have been a suppressed smile. "Reparo." The pieces of the seat flew back together. "Don't expect you to be able to do that quite as easily yet, though. Takes practice, although since you've got this far you should have some idea how it's done." He held up a hand to forestall renewed mutterings from the trainees. "I know, not all of you had good teachers at school. But this mostly comes from you. You have to learn to focus the right way. You get these few techniques down pat, you'll be well set in any fight."
The class exchanged looks. "Just like that?" muttered one of them in a sceptical voice. "Not as easy as it sounds doing the spell without the incantation."
In reply, Dawlish nonchalantly pointed his wand at the empty chair next to the speaker. A jet of red light shot out of the end and smashed a hole in the seat, making the hapless trainee yelp and jump out of the way.
"Just like that," he said with a slight twitch of the mouth that might have been a suppressed smile. "Reparo." The pieces of the seat flew back together. "Don't expect you to be able to do that quite as easily yet, though. Takes practice, although since you've got this far you should have some idea how it's done." He held up a hand to forestall renewed mutterings from the trainees. "I know, not all of you had good teachers at school. But this mostly comes from you. You have to learn to focus the right way. You get these few techniques down pat, you'll be well set in any fight."
Chapter 17 - Clearing the Decks
Cassius is explaining to Tonks why she was posted to the Central Division:
“Didn’t you ever wonder why you never see any of your classmates around here?”
“Well, yes, I suppose, but ...” She realised that in the excitement of starting the job, she’d lost touch with most of them, apart from the occasional owl. “So, erm ... where are they then?”
“They had to split you among the offices to make up shortfalls. Usually they start most of you here, but this time a couple went to Rufus’ Division up in Edinburgh, I believe Dublin and Birmingham got one each, and I think three went to Cardiff - they were very short-staffed. You’re the only new Auror who was posted to Central.”
“Why me?” said Tonks curiously. This was another thing she was already not liking the sound of very much.
Cassius shrugged. “Egbert Claymore, I’m afraid. As head of Central Division, working out of the Ministry offices, he has more access to Amelia Bones and more influence with her than any of the Division heads out in the sticks. Which, let me tell you, does not make him popular with my young great-nephew Rufus - well, my not-so-young great-nephew by now, actually - who would have dearly loved his job. Egbert likes to take first pick of the trainees he thinks have the most potential, to see if they live up to it. And as you lived in London already and had some local knowledge ... that was a bonus.”
“Well, yes, I suppose, but ...” She realised that in the excitement of starting the job, she’d lost touch with most of them, apart from the occasional owl. “So, erm ... where are they then?”
“They had to split you among the offices to make up shortfalls. Usually they start most of you here, but this time a couple went to Rufus’ Division up in Edinburgh, I believe Dublin and Birmingham got one each, and I think three went to Cardiff - they were very short-staffed. You’re the only new Auror who was posted to Central.”
“Why me?” said Tonks curiously. This was another thing she was already not liking the sound of very much.
Cassius shrugged. “Egbert Claymore, I’m afraid. As head of Central Division, working out of the Ministry offices, he has more access to Amelia Bones and more influence with her than any of the Division heads out in the sticks. Which, let me tell you, does not make him popular with my young great-nephew Rufus - well, my not-so-young great-nephew by now, actually - who would have dearly loved his job. Egbert likes to take first pick of the trainees he thinks have the most potential, to see if they live up to it. And as you lived in London already and had some local knowledge ... that was a bonus.”
Chapter 22 - The Morning After The Night Before
The team meet at the main offices, and Amelia Bones turns up with some surprising news:
Tonks and Rhiannon wearily Apparated to the Ministry at half past nine the following morning, and as soon as they reached Auror Headquarters joined the queue for the coffee that had been thoughtfully provided. In fact, Tonks felt so tired that she'd hoped for an urn of Potion of Wakefulness. (But since that required a sleepless night to brew, it would have rather optimistic to hope they could have rustled up enough of the stuff at short notice. Large quantities of black coffee was the next best thing, and at least it didn't taste like old socks.)
As Rhiannon poured out two large mugs full from the spigot, Tonks spotted that the morning's Daily Prophet special edition had been attached to the wall with a Sticking Charm. She skimmed through it. It didn't make pleasant reading.
"Skeeter her usual fair and balanced self, is she?" asked Rhiannon bitterly, when she noticed what Tonks was doing.
"Yeah, let's see ... Ministry blunders ... innocent campers fled in terror ... lax security procedures ... offenders escaped scot-free ... Dark Magic openly used ... it will take years for our country to live down this national disgrace played out in front of the entire wizarding world ... blah blah blah."
"Cow. Oh wonderful. Claymore's going to be chewing rocks and spitting out gravel over this, and it wasn't even his responsibility."
"Yeah." Tonks glanced around; there were far more than the usual number of Aurors here; to her surprise, she even recognised some of her classmates from training who had been posted to other offices. "Have they got every Auror in the country here?" she muttered, taking the proffered mug.
"Don't think so, but I wouldn't be surprised," said Rhiannon in a low voice. "Claymore can't officially order them about unless they're Central Division, but I bet he's going to have a damn good try." She nodded towards one end of the room, where Claymore was sitting with a group of other senior-looking Aurors, deep in serious and rather heated conversation.
"Who's he talking to?" asked Tonks.
"Them? They're the other Division heads. I know most of them; the one next to him is Diarmuid Fitzpatrick from Dublin -- Donnie knows him quite well, that's where he started out. The one at the end there is Gawain Robards from the Welsh Division -- that's where I started out. And the woman in the dark blue robes is Emily Farbright, she works out of Birmingham."
They made their way over to the cubicles, where Cassius and Donnacha O'Gregan were sitting, looking equally tired. Tonks raised her eyebrows.
"I thought you two were still on holiday?" she said.
O'Gregan snorted, picked up a piece of mauve parchment and waved it at them. "Not any more. All leave cancelled until further notice. Orders straight from Amelia Bones, no less. Do you get the impression they're a bit miffed at the way things went with those fellows in masks, now?"
Tonks grinned. "You've sobered up enough to work, then?"
"I was stone cold sober and working last night," he replied with dignity. "My darling girl here came to check on me, and I asked her to cast a Sobriety Spell so I could help." Rhiannon nodded in confirmation.
"And I came back to do what I could too, once Rufus and I had got the rest of the family out of harm's way," added Cassius tiredly. "Little as that was. You know, I thought I'd left this sort of thing behind when I retired? I never expected to see Death Eaters on the march again."
"We're sure it was them, then?" asked Rhiannon.
"Who else could it be?" said Cassius, shrugging. "Someone sent a Dark Mark up, after all."
"Scared the masked lot off, though," said Tonks thoughtfully, mulling it over. "I was watching them. Now I think about it, it was a bit odd, really. They all vanished as soon as it appeared, and they didn't do anything else after that, did they? The ones I actually saw Disapparate looked like they were panicking." She glanced around speculatively. "It couldn't have been some other group trying to act big and make a name for themselves, and ... oh I don't know, an ex-Death Eater got annoyed when he saw them cavorting about, and tried to throw a scare into them? 'Hey lads, you want to play at being Death Eaters? Well, meet the real thing.'"
"Might be, I suppose, but that doesn't sound much better," said O'Gregan, with a gloomy look. "If they weren't You-Know-Who's old pals holding a nice little reunion party, it just means we've got another bunch o'nutters on our hands who like to dress up in masks and torment Muggles. Lovely. Either way, it'll be no fun for us, now, will it?"
"Why now, though?" asked Rhiannon curiously. "They've been keeping their heads down for years, why would they suddenly risk doing this with the whole world watching? You don't ..." She shivered, gulped, and continued more quietly. "You don't think they've got some sort of indication that You-Know-Who is on his way back?" The others shuddered.
"How would he do that?" asked O'Gregan in a reassuring voice. "No-one's heard a peep from him for years, if he's even still alive."
"I don't know about that, Donnie," said Rhiannon in a worried tone. "He was supposed to be controlling that teacher that got killed at Hogwarts a couple of years ago." Seeing the looks of surprise from her colleagues, she added, "My little cousin Roger told me. He said the whole school seemed to know what had happened, even if no-one ever confirmed it officially."
"Right ..." said O'Gregan, discomfited. "Of course, the boys in masks could just have been doing it because they'd had too much to drink."
Tonks bit her lip and cast her mind back to the way the wizards had marched across the field. "They seemed too well-drilled for that," she said. "Like ... like they'd practiced it beforehand. The ones who came to join them afterwards might well have been sloshed, but not the bunch in the middle ..." Her eyes widened in sudden recollection. "Oh, wait a minute ... I forgot!" She smacked her forehead, hard.
"What?" said Cassius, looking up with interest.
A few words, spoken in an immensely smug voice, came back to her: 'Father had some people to see. We had to provide them with somewhere civilised to meet.' She groaned. "I've just remembered. I met my little cousin on the site -- Draco, Lucius Malfoy's son? He said his dad was hosting a meeting there, and they practically had a bloody marquee! What's the betting they were doing some last-minute work on their moves for the big night?"
The others exchanged glances. "Malfoy? The slimy blond one who throws his money around and smarms up to Fudge? Not a bad shot," said O'Gregan judiciously. "What do you think, Cassius?"
Cassius was looking at Tonks with uncertainty, perhaps remembering her harsh attitude when Lucius Malfoy's name had come up before. Damn. He thinks I'm overreacting. I knew I shouldn't have let my guard down. "Possible, I suppose," he said. "I wouldn't trust him an inch, but it's not proof of anything. But it's an interesting piece of information," he added hastily, holding up a hand to forestall Tonks' indignant reply. "You'd better mention it to whoever's going to coordinate the investigation. I know young Rufus was railing about the sloppy security last night -- he was absolutely furious with what happened, sure that someone must have useful information. He went off looking for someone senior to discuss it with."
"Right." Tonks glanced at her watch; it was still only five to ten. "I suppose we'll find out who's running this in a few minutes." She looked around curiously. "Where's Arnie got to, anyway?"
O'Gregan shrugged. "Haven't seen him. And we can't contact him, which is bloody annoying -- they switched off access to all mirror phones, presumably so our Egbert won't get interrupted while he's yelling at us."
"They can do that?"
"Apparently," said Cassius. "K's always full of little tricks like that. I hope the rumour flying round that one of our senior people was thinking of retiring isn't referring to him -- no-one else knows how to make half the stuff he comes up with! I've actually grown quite fond of these gadgets."
"Me too," said O'Gregan. "I can even call me mam on them. Anyway, I'm not worried about Arnie; probably just had something he needed to follow up. They can't drag everyone in here, can they, not when they have things to look into?"
"No, I suppose they ca ..." Rhiannon trailed off as a small group swept past them. Tonks looked on in trepidation as she recognised Amelia Bones herself, accompanied by Dawlish, a couple of harassed-looking wizards she took to be her assistants, and a tall, thin man with glasses and a lot of yellowish hair, who was walking quickly despite a trace of a limp.
O'Gregan whistled quietly. "Can it be now that they are taking this seriously," he said. "Cassius, isn't that ..."
"My great-nephew from the Northern Division?" said Cassius with a frown. His expression was that of a man who had just bitten into something with a mildly unpleasant taste. "Yes, it is. What's he doing with Amelia, I wonder?"
"Good question," muttered Tonks, staring at the senior officials as they marched to the end of the room. Amelia Bones pulled out her wand and deftly Conjured a small raised platform, on which they all climbed, then held up a hand for silence. The few people holding murmured conversations immediately fell quiet. She fitted her monocle into her eye, and looked around grimly.
"Right," she said in a booming voice. "You should all know me, I head this Department. This meeting is to tell you what we intend to do about last night's fiasco. And as far as I'm concerned the only good thing about that is that the buck stops on the desks of Barty Crouch and Ludo Bagman, not on mine. You don't have to write this down," she snapped at a Departmental scribe who was attempting to take minutes. He flushed and hastily dropped his quill.
"Be that as it may, however, we're the ones who have to pick up the pieces," she continued. "The Minister has been embarrassed at a global event, so he wants action. So do I. I want those filth rounded up and soon. This is now a Priority A case." There were whistles at this. Two Priority A cases now? Catching my cousin and catching the Death Eaters. There's a pattern here.
"Now I've spent most of the night with my head in a fire talking to other members of the Wizengamot, and we've come to an understanding. I'll have to go down there this afternoon to get it formally confirmed, but what you need to know is this. Firstly, from now on applications for warrants of any kind will be considered swiftly and with a kindly eye. If you need one to search a house or conduct an interrogation, apply. If you have any kind of evidence, you'll get it. That applies to coercive warrants too, especially for the use of Veritaserum. The Chief Warlock has given his personal assurance that he sees, as he puts it, 'no objection to its employment in serious cases', and in an emergency he is even willing to grant permission for use on his own authority if necessary."
She looked around at their raised eyebrows and smiled very slightly. "Don't bother him unless it's an emergency. He's a busy man, and he'll be off to the International Confederation conference in Stockholm soon anyway. Secondly, if you need resources to carry out an investigation, just ask for them. The Wizengamot will be putting aside a special allocation of gold from the budget to get results on this case. And we'll pull people out of other departments if we need to, as we did when Black escaped. Hopefully it'll do some good this time. Thirdly, if you have any wild suspicions or half-arsed theories, don't ignore them, raise them. We'll take suggestions from cave trolls if they turn out to get results."
She gazed sternly at the assembled Aurors through her monocle. "But finally -- don't all go racing around like loose Bludgers on this one and lose sight of the other important cases. You can let most of the minor enquiries go, but not your Priority B investigations. I have no desire to give the Prophet any more chances to complain that we're letting murderers escape. Just use your brains, your initiative, and your common sense. You're all supposed to have them. Right, any questions?"
There was complete silence in the room as the Aurors digested this information. No-one was foolish enough to ask a question.
"Right then," she said. "For those of you who don't know Rufus Scrimgeour here, he's Commander of the Northern Division. He'll be in overall charge of the investigation and coordinating our efforts." Tonks could see Claymore and the other senior Aurors near the front glance at each other; this statement didn't seem to be going down at all well with them. Amelia Bones chuckled. "For you chaps from other Divisions -- I'm sorry, but I need a single point of reference, and Mr Scrimgeour here has some good ideas. Also, his division is well-staffed at the moment compared to their caseload, so I don't mind leaving his deputy in charge. He's authorised to call on any Aurors necessary, whatever Division they're from, and set the direction for the investigation. I want you all to work closely with him and support what he does. If I'm treading on anyone's toes, my apologies, now get over it."
Tonks glanced again at the other Division heads. Their reactions were mostly a mixture of disgruntlement and resignation, but Egbert Claynore looked absolutely livid. She winced; this did not bode well for future events in the Central Division
Amelia Bones turned to the man on her other side: "Warren Dawlish here was the main Auror liaison at the World Cup, and for the moment he'll be continuing to act as liaison between the Auror office, the Minister's office, and Mr Scrimgeour -- who'll be moving to an office here in the Ministry. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some long and tedious meetings to go to. Best of luck, chaps, and get me results." She nodded at the Aurors and strode out the room, followed hastily by her assistants. Nobody spoke until the door had closed behind them.
Tonks exchanged glances with the others. Apparently now Cassius' nephew -- no, great-nephew -- could officially give him orders. Cassius didn't look especially happy at the idea. She wondered briefly what he was like. She caught sight of one of her old classmates, Albert Jenkins, across the room; he winked at her in recognition. She smiled; he was probably going to have a rude awakening if by some chance they ever called on him.
Rufus Scrimgeour himself was currently merely calling for order. "Very well, you've all heard the Head of Department," he said brusquely. "Let's be frank with each other. Last night was one of the biggest cock-ups it's been my misfortune to see since I joined the Department. I'm astonished that no-one even tried to come up with a way to get in among them or get those Muggles out of there."
"Like how?" The words were muttered sullenly by an Auror near the front that Tonks hadn't seen before. She winced in sympathy; unfortunately for him, he spoke just as Rufus Scrimgeour took a pause for breath, so his words could be heard by the whole room.
"How?" snapped Scrimgeour, glaring at the man through his wire-rimmed glasses. "You were there, I take it? You're meant to be an Auror, man, aren't you?" He rounded on them as the hapless Auror flinched. "Did no-one think to Conjure themselves a hood and a mask, join that march, and try to break them up from inside? Or use a Disillusionment Charm on themselves and take advantage of the dark to sneak up on them? Or even just make a Portkey and Banish it towards the Muggles to get them out of there?"
He looked around at the expressions of chagrin on many of the faces. "No, none of you did think, by the look of it. At least the amateurs they had on those so-called security teams had an excuse. They're not supposed to know any better. We've got sloppy since the end of the war! If the Death Eaters had wanted to fight the kind of battle they used to give us, we'd have a casualty list ten feet long this morning."
Easy for you to say now, mate, thought Tonks. You were off getting your family away, you weren't in the thick of it. She could see, looking around, that a number of other people seemed to be thinking the same thing; but all of them had enough sense not to actually say it. As far as she could tell, Rufus Scrimgeour, while slightly more diplomatic, came from pretty much the same mould as Egbert Claymore.
"Right," he said, looking at them sternly. "Let's start thinking now. First off, I need to see all the Division heads in ten minutes time in Madam Bones's office, together with anyone who was acting as a World Cup security supervisor" -- Tonks looked across the room at Kingsley Shacklebolt in sympathy, and saw him wince -- "and anyone who went to investigate that Dark Mark and can perhaps explain to me what the hell Barty Crouch thought he was doing." She heard Rhiannon groan next to her. "Maybe we can plan something for a change. The rest of you, start checking any leads you have. If you don't have any, go and find some. Put all your other cases on the back-burner unless they're both important and urgent. All right, let's get to work." He turned, Vanished the platform and strode out of the room.
Rhiannon looked at the rest of her team with trepidation. "Better not hang about," she said quietly. "Wish me luck." She got up and followed an irate Claymore, a sombre Kingsley Shacklebolt, and a number of other Aurors towards the door.
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no subject
Date: 2005-08-07 06:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-07 07:27 pm (UTC)Sneaking in Rufus through references and peripheral cameos seems to work rather well. I was wondering how you'd work around the Scrimgeour effect - I did rather like option (b) in the post below (Grasp the Nettle/search and replace), simply because you could have done swapsies with Claymore and Scrimgeour, making Tonks' mentor "Cassius Claymore", which is close enough to a certain legendary boxer for me to find it rather amusing!
But you made the right choice :)
no subject
Date: 2005-08-09 08:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-09 08:07 pm (UTC)Wow, I'm flattered. Give me another couple of weeks on that though ...