Nymphadora Tonks and the Mystery at Malfoy Manor: Part One

[lilacsigil.livejournal.com]

Title: Nymphadora Tonks and the Mystery at Malfoy Manor
Author: lilacsigil
Femgenficathon 2006
Rating: PG
Fandom: Harry Potter
Warnings: Violence
Prompt: By the time I'd grown up, I naturally supposed that I'd grown up.--Eve Babitz.
Summary: The Malfoy family, accused of being Death Eaters, demand Aurors to protect them at one of their parties. Tonks is less than pleased to be assigned, especially when the party goes horribly wrong. Set during Order of the Phoenix.
Thanks to st_aurafina for reading the early versions!


Part One



On the day Tonks had become a fully-fledged Auror, Shacklebolt told her the Legend of the Pile of Paperwork: if anyone ever got their caseload entirely cleared, they got an automatic promotion. She'd laughed, then, but since that first day, she'd never had less than a good quarter-inch of paperwork covering the right-hand side of her desk. The left-hand side she reserved for cups of tea and associated spillage space.

Every time she was called out on duty, therefore, Tonks was thrilled to be getting out of the office and into action, and yet had learned to dread the immense pile of forms that would inevitably follow. The worst cases were when another part of the Ministry was involved, and all their forms had to be filled out, too. Her dad had given her a Quick-Copy Quill, which helped with the triplicating, but not so much with the Byzantine instructions of the Obliviators or, even worse, the Unspeakables.

Tonks sipped her blindingly hot tea, sighed, and unrolled a long, heavy scroll from the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. She had just begun to go cross-eyed – did a "constructed device of unrealised destructive capacity" mean some kind of unexploded bomb? – when Marcus Proudfoot peered over the top of her cubicle.

"Tonks! Constant vigilance!"

"This tea will scald your face off in seconds, Proudfoot. Let's just see you try something."

"Scrimgeour wants to see us. No idea why."

Tonks slopped tea on her wrist.

"Ow! Do you think it's about our report on the Lethifold attack?" She flicked her wand into her hand and dried out her tea-soaked sleeve, then dabbed her stinging wrist with a damp hanky. "I thought I was pretty thorough with that one."

"You tell me. Come on, he's expecting us."

Scrimgeour's office, despite being nearly as large as all the Aurors' cubicles put together, was extremely cramped. It was lined with enormous bookcases, filled with all kinds of information, from the tried and proven to the extremely dodgy. Piled on and around the books were Dark Arts Detection devices, some flashing and whirring ominously, others silent. Some larger devices sat on low tables or stands, and Tonks particularly disliked the claw-footed mirror that was supposed to display your true self but only showed Tonks as a pinkish smudge. Older Aurors had told Tonks that Scrimgeour's predecessor had displayed trophies of past victories, including a dragon's severed head preserved and hanging from the roof, and the snapped wands of convicted criminals in a huge glass display case. She wasn't quite sure whether to believe this, but she was glad for anything that gave her a little space to stand in without knocking anything over.

"Proudfoot, Tonks." Scrimgeour's greeting was as brusque as ever, and he gestured them to be seated. Both did, surreptitiously peeking at the piles of papers on the huge oaken desk to see if they could spot anything to give them a clue about why they'd been called in.

Scrimgeour leaned back in his high-backed chair, his body relaxed, but his face uncharacteristically annoyed. Tonks' heart sank. It must be the Lethifold. What had they done wrong?

"Don't looked so alarmed, Auror. I've called you in to give the pair of you a new assignment."

Tonks was so relieved that she nearly bounced up off her chair.

"Yes sir!"

Proudfoot gave her a hard look out of the corner of his eye. Tonks was the newest and youngest of the Aurors, but Proudfoot was the second-newest, and tended be a little offended at Tonks' ebullience. Tonks composed her face for Proudfoot's sake.

"You may not be so pleased when you hear about the assignment. You've been keeping up with the papers, I presume?" Scrimgeour didn't wait for an answer. "There's been some rather unpleasant allegations about the loyalties of Lucius Malfoy published in the Quibbler. Mr Malfoy is highly offended and asked us to arrest the editor, the journalist, and, I quote, 'anyone else even marginally involved in this travesty.'"

Proudfoot frowned.

"That's hardly a matter for the Aurors, sir."

"Correct. It's nothing to do with our Department at all. Mr Malfoy can pursue the Quibbler on his own time. Or he can parade up and down Diagon Alley in a Death Eater mask for all I care."

Both junior Aurors smirked. Scrimgeour's opinions on the former Death Eaters who had claimed to be under Imperio were well known.

"This is not the problem at hand. Mr Malfoy fears that his life may be in danger from the surviving victims of the Death Eaters during the last war, and has persuaded Minister Fudge that it would be appropriate for him to be protected."

"By Aurors, sir?" Proudfoot looked confused.

"Indeed. I have convinced the Minister that I am unable to spare even a single Auror for Mr Malfoy's benefit. I'm not having my people used as an alibi for whatever Malfoy's really planning." Scrimgeour frowned deeply. "If he's planning anything at all. He may be genuinely alarmed, and not without reason."

"What is our assignment, then, sir?" Tonks, like most of Magical Law Enforcement, was thoroughly up-to-date on Lucius Malfoy's ongoing campaign of special favours. Both Scrimgeour and their Head of Department, Madam Bones, had made it quite clear what would happen to anyone caught taking bribes or, as they phrased it, "encouragements". Still, a direct request from the Minister of Magic was not to be thrown aside.

"The Malfoys are having one of their parties this Saturday evening. A Spring Soiree, I believe they call it: about 150 Wizards attending, and an elite group staying overnight. The two of you will be attending and providing security for Mr Malfoy and his family."

Proudfoot and Tonks both jumped out of their seats at that.

"But, sir – " Tonks started, but Proudfoot talked over her.

"Sir, I'm sure you know the Malfoys' opinions on blood purity in wizards. Do you think Tonks and I are really the most appropriate people to send to Malfoy Manor?"

"A pair of half-bloods? I think you're entirely appropriate for this particular gathering, Proudfoot. No matter what Lucius Malfoy would like to believe, he is not the Minister for Magic, and he does not dictate policy within this department."

Proudfoot sat down, chastened. Tonks hovered for a moment, then followed suit.

Scrimgeour handed two small silver brooches across the desk. The brooches were finely wrought silver, in the shape of a tiny spray of blossom.

"These will get you into the party. You should be able to find details on Malfoy Manor downstairs in the Cartographicum. Any further questions?"

"Yes, sir." Tonks was frowning. "Do you think there really is a threat to Mr Malfoy's life? Or to his family?"

"It's unlikely, but it is possible. There's a lot of frustration with the Ministry's line on the Death Eaters, and someone might try to take things into their own hands. That Quibbler interview has unleashed a lot of bad memories. Keep your eyes open. But you'll be doing that in Malfoy Manor in any case, won't you?"

By the time Tonks and Proudfoot had finished nodding in agreement, they were out the door, each with a silver brooch in hand. Proudfoot pocketed his, and walked towards the lift. Tonks followed.

"Proudfoot, there's something I've got to tell you," she hissed, as they waited for the next lift.

"You don't want to do this mission? We'll be lucky if we get to go home without them using our guts for garters. At least we're not muggleborn. We'd be doomed."

"No, it's worse than that!"

Proudfoot stared at Tonks, whose hair was morphing uncomfortably between curly brown and spiky black, but the lift arrived before either of them could say any more.



Down the busy hallway, brightly lit by lamps, as the magical windows were showing icy rain today, was the enormous Cartographicum, repository of maps of the entire Wizarding World. In the last year, access had been severely restricted for security reasons – though Fudge was oddly reticent about whose security exactly – and members of the public who might, for example, be interested in the nesting places of the Augurey had to apply for approved copies of the specific maps they wanted. This process took weeks, and there had been outraged birdwatchers, ramblers and potion makers haunting the lobby ever since the new rules applied.

Tonks and Proudfoot, as Aurors, had full access to details of every Wizarding residence in Britain. Most of the people present in the huge room, seated in the steep downward spiral of high-sided wooden cubicles, were actually Ministry employees from the Department of Magical Transportation, connecting or disconnecting various residences to the Floo Network. Their conversation, rustling and spellcasting filled the air.

Tonks all but shoved Proudfoot into one of the narrow cubicle, and checked no-one was nearby. They were both pushed against the desk, but she still managed to grab the front of his robes and look him in the face.

"Remember how I said I hate all that blood purity tripe?" Tonks whispered, her eyes narrow. "Because my mum's family disowned her when she married my dad?"

"Who's a muggle-born, like my mum. Yeah, I remember."

"Narcissa Malfoy is my aunt! If I go to their house they'll kill me! And use my skin for a rug!" Tonks stuck her arms out, and rolled her eyes back in her head, imitating a very dead bearskin rug.

"They wouldn't do that!"

Tonks eyed Proudfoot beadily, but held her dead bear pose. "My grandmother's house had a rack of muggle-skinning tools upstairs. Everyone knows about Lucius Malfoy, and Narcissa must be just as bad."

"Wait, Tonks, you said 'must be'. You don't know her?"

"No, we've never met. I mean, I've seen her at a distance. That's all, though."

"So she hasn't been threatening to skin you."

"Well, no. Not really, no."

"So you don't actually know she'll kill you. And, in fact, now would be a really bad time for the Malfoys to waltz around killing Aurors. There's enough suspicion on them already."

"Okay, okay." Tonks threw her hands up in defeat. "But if they skin me alive, you've got to take my head back to Scrimgeour, stick it on his desk, and charm it to say 'I told you so' a hundred times a day."

A witch stuck her head around the corner of the cubicle. "Do you mind? Some of us are trying to work."

Proudfoot made apologetic, silent gestures, and this seemed to satisfy her, as she ducked back to her own map corral. He turned back to Tonks. " Seriously, though, Tonks, you think the Malfoys are going to throw us out?

Tonks shrugged, uncomfortably.

"My mum has been known to exaggerate. I don't think it's going to be comfortable, though. That lot really do think they're better than everyone else."

"Do you think Malfoy's actually a Death Eater? I mean, I know Scrimgeour does, but he was here for the last war."

"Would surprise more if he wasn't one. You're right, though, the Malfoys will be on their best behaviour right now. I would have loved to see their faces when they found out that they were being accused by the Quibbler, of all things."

Proudfoot, who was well-known as a devoted Quibbler subscriber in his teens, laughed loudly.

"Right there on the front page, next to that Moon Frog autopsy!"

"Oh, got a copy did you, Proudfoot?"

"Just for the Moon Frogs." He sobered. "You sure they'll be all right with half-bloods?"

"I'm sure they won't be, but Scrimgeour's put them in a position where they won't be able to do anything about it. We'll be fine."

"Good. Back to work, then."

Tonks tapped the desk with her wand.

"Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire."

The varnish on the wood swirled as if Tonks had stirred it, then cleared to show a neatly drawn map of Malfoy Manor in its surface. Tonks slipped into the chair to look closer, and Proudfoot peered over her shoulder. The map showed an outline of large, empty grounds dominated by a large, blocky house and the formal gardens around it.

"It's not very detailed, is it?" Tonks tapped her wand on the desk again. "Magnify."

The map became larger, but no further detail appeared. Internal walls and, of course, fireplaces, were marked in the house, but there was no further information. Even doors and windows weren't apparent. Tonks had seen maps so detailed that the species in the herb beds were marked, but this one was nearly empty.

"That's no bloody use!" Tonks muttered, as Proudfoot leaned forward and pulled his wand across the map, causing the building to separate into its three storeys, plus cellars. None of them were any more detailed than the original map, but at least gave a clearer idea of the layout of staircases and hallways.

"With the cellar here, and these fireplaces, this must be the kitchens," Proudfoot said, and trailed his wand around the map, turning it for a better view.

"And here, the dining room? Or a ballroom?" Tonks bent her head to the puzzle.



Two hours later, Tonks and Proudfoot had a fairly good idea of the layout of Malfoy Manor, despite the suspicious lack of detail on the official map. Proudfoot was heading to Diagon Alley to rent some formal robes, but, as Tonks was just going to borrow some of her mother's and change her own shape to fit, she had decided to track down Arthur Weasley instead. Arthur had been inside Malfoy Manor at least once – Tonks had been in training at the time that the Department had raided the place in search of Dark artifacts – and Tonks was sure her fellow Order member would have taken the opportunity to have a good look around.

Although it was lunchtime, Arthur was eating his sandwiches at his desk, and looked up in surprise when Tonks leaned into his cubicle.

"Wotcher, Arthur. Want to come outside and eat your lunch in the sunshine? Got some more info on the wizard who was feeding muggles to a Lethifold."

Arthur looked at the windows dubiously, as there were now hailstones pelting against the glass, but shrugged and packed up his sandwiches.

"It's not really like that out there, is it?"

"Course not! Maintenance is just cross because Magical Creatures led that pair of stolen Abraxans across the lobby this morning, and guess who had to clean the floor before Fudge got in?"

Arthur laughed.

"I just can't work out who'd want to steal Abraxans in the first place! They're more than a little noticeable. Well, I suppose that's more your concern than mine."

Chatting amiably, they took the lift up, though they were delayed slightly when Tonks briefly managed to get one of the message-carrying paper aeroplanes stuck in her spiky hair. At ground level, they ducked out the emergency exit into the miserable little courtyard occupied by smokers. Fudge's modern, open-plan office design had certainly increased communication between Ministry staff, but those who had enjoyed a pipe or other similarly smelly pursuits in their own tiny office had found themselves unceremoniously booted out into the courtyard near the incinerator. About twenty witches and wizards huddled around the walls, sucking on their cigarettes, pipe or hookahs, gossiping in a desultory way. Two wizards with bubotuber boils all the way up their arms were painting themselves with some revolting unguent that smelt exactly like garbage water.

"Afternoon, Arthur," one of them said in a cheery manner, nodding at Tonks.

"Those boils still troubling you? I thought St Mungo's had taken care of that."

"Oh, it's helping, it is," the wizard replied, gesturing with his pot of unguent, "But no-one will let us in the office until it's dried. Stinks to high heaven, this stuff."

"Mmm, it certainly does," Arthur nodded approvingly and seemed ready to stay longer until Tonks nudged him forward, up some concrete stairs and into the Muggle street outside.

Across from the emergency exit was a drab little park, its wooden benches thoroughly encrusted in pigeon poo. Arthur pulled his wand from a pocket.

"Scourgify!"

The bench was immediately clean, and the two sat down and pulled out their sandwiches. Tonks was finding the idea of tuna spread and Marmite far less appealing than it had been early this morning, but ate anyway. Arthur's sandwiches had thick, home-made bread, and were filled with strong-smelling cheese, cold beef and a hearty mustard. Seeing Tonks' longing expression, he handed one to her.

"Oh, go ahead, Molly always makes too many. Trying to feed me up again, I think." Arthur absent-mindedly touched his side, where he had been wounded just a few months ago.

"Thanks!" Tonks had half the sandwich in her mouth before she'd even finished the word. "So, Arthur, know anything about Malfoy Manor? I'll be there tomorrow night."

"Now, there's a surprise," Arthur said cheerfully, but glanced around him and flicked his wand in a complicated pattern that Tonks recognised as a minor Disillusionment charm. "Not so interested in Lethifolds after all."

"Oh, I'm very interested in them!" Tonks put her hand over her heart, sincerely, and a big wedge of cheese slipped out of her sandwich and onto her lap. She shoved it back in the sandwich and kept eating. "But right now, I'm wondering why the official Ministry map only shows the absolute basics – walls, fences, fireplaces."

"Even before we raided them, three years ago, the map had plenty of blank spots. Afterwards, the map was wiped completely clean. Lucius must be paying someone in Transportation, but that's hardly news."

"Not really, no. But Proudfoot – you know him, Marcus Proudfoot; tall, brown hair, carried Amos Diggory out of the Ministry that time the poor man tried to strangle Fudge after the Triwizard Tournament – he and I are the requested Aurors at the Malfoys' Spring Soiree."

Arthur smirked. "Scrimgeour wasn't too happy with their request?"

"No, but I don't want to end up in their statue garden or something because Malfoy feels insulted. Or Aunt Narcissa. So, what's the go with their house?" Tonks munched cheerfully on her sandwich, somewhat nostalgic for home cooking, though the sandwiches her parents made had never been quite this epic.

"It hasn't been in the family for long. I think it was Lucius's grandfather who bought it from an old family in ruin. They've tried to pretend it's always been theirs, but the spellwork is all new."

"Good," Tonks said emphatically. Her mother had told her more than a few stories of the old blood magics that had been placed around Black family residences, and Tonks didn't fancy running into those. "Anything we should watch out for?"

"There's no Apparition on the grounds unless you're a Malfoy, of course. They'll have everyone arrive by Floo, into the big fireplaces downstairs so no-one gets their best robes dirty. So the place will be stinking hot in no time, but they seem to like that. The upper storeys were completely reconstructed by Lucius's father, so they're filled with hidden passages and the like. We made Malfoy open them up, but I'm sure we didn't get everything. Most of what they have is out on display, though: the place is their showcase."

"My mum always called them jumped-up shopkeepers, but I think she was just cross at Aunt Narcissa not inviting her to the wedding. As if she would!" Tonks morphed her features into an exaggerated version of her mother's. "'Lucius bought himself a pure-blood wife, but he can't buy class.'"

Arthur laughed, but patted Tonks' hand sympathetically, as if passing the gesture on to Andromeda.

"Don't be too hard on your mother. Family was always very important to her. It is to Narcissa and Lucius, too. I doubt they're going to be any trouble to you at their own party. Still, you never know who'll be there. Keep your eyes open, Tonks. You'll be doing double duty, for the Aurors and the Order."

"I know. I'm not really expecting to open a wardrobe and – voila! – Death Eater robes! But I'd love to find something that even Fudge can't deny."

"I've been through the place twice, I'm afraid, without much luck. I suppose you might have more luck at a party than at a raid after they've already been tipped off. Come over to the Burrow tonight, and we can go through the maps we made last time. I wasn't game to keep them at the Ministry."

"Will there be more sandwiches like this?" Tonks licked the last bits of mustard off her fingers with a satisfied sigh.

"Better: cottage pie."

"I'll be there!"


(Part Two in next post)

Comments

[a-t-rain.livejournal.com]

Yay for Auror!Tonks fic! And I want one of those sandwiches!

[lilacsigil.livejournal.com]

Thanks! It was my dream sandwich, so after writing this I went and cooked a roast just so I could have the sandwich the next day. I bet Arthur's was even nicer than mine, though.