Paradox, Part 4
Jul. 11th, 2005 09:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pandora_culpaAnd stranger and stranger...
Title: Paradox
Dramatis Personae: Tonks, Remus, Mad Eye Moody
Scene Rating: PG (I know! Staying mild, aren't I?)
Tonks stopped short, her eyes widening in alarm. “They were right here!” she cried, stepping fully into the kitchen and looking around as though Moody and the Weasleys might only have been hiding in a corner. “Mad Eye had just come down, and Molly and the twins were cleaning up from the breakfast meeting…” Empty counters, empty sink, clean table, the cold, sterile smell of a basement rather than the hearty aromas of bacon and ham- it was as though the gathering had never happened. She stared about at a complete loss until Remus delicately cleared his throat at her back.
Turning back to the haggard werewolf, Tonks held her hands out pleadingly. “I don’t understand,” she said in hushed tones. “I swear to you, there were just here.”
Remus studied her for a moment, tired eyes weighing the sincerity in her face and voice, before finally sighing. “Well, they must have Apparated away while you were upstairs,” he said, with only a little impatience noticeable in his voice. “Still, I need to talk to Alastor…” He ran his hands through his prematurely graying hair, frustration clearly evident in the gesture, and fixed Tonks with a stern look. “Can you get in touch with him somehow, wherever he may be?”
Tonks nodded, a few of the techniques Moody had taught her quickly coming to mind. “I can’t send him a message,” she answered, “but I can get his attention and he’ll check back with me.”
He sighed, sagging into a chair and beginning to unwind the scarves from around his neck. “Please do,” he said softly. “He’ll want to know, and I could use his counsel on this matter. I’d like to ask Kingsley as well…” He paused, seeing Tonks shaking her head.
“Shacklebolt was going in to work at the office today; we can’t call him without drawing undue attention. Unless this is an emergency?” She arched a brow at him, and he frowned.
“I suppose that all depends on one’s perspective, but… no, I can wait to talk to Kingsley. It would have been nice to have another set of eyes on the problem, but it can wait.” Setting the scarves aside on the table, Remus glanced up at Tonks imploringly. “You said something about breakfast? I’m famished.”
Without thinking, she replied, “I’ll fix you a plate.” But no sooner than the words had left her mouth, a small twist on discomfort coiled around her spine, and she shivered lightly. Remus didn’t seem to notice, intent on the tidings he bore.
“Thanks,” he said, giving her a tight smile, “but I can do it. I’d rather that you call Alastor.” Hazel eyes studied her with candid entreaty, urging her to hurry, and though she still felt the peculiar chill, she agreed. While Remus rose and began pulling out a plate and silverware, she slid her wand from its sheath and closed her eyes, envisioning Moody, and a ghostly hand tapping his shoulder. Eyes shut, she muttered the short but tricky charm that would tickle Moody’s senses until he backtraced the spell to her, waiting for the telltale tingle in her skin that told her the spell had found its target. Afterwards there was nothing to do but wait until he responded to them in some way, so she turned her attention back to the sandy-haired man who was staring into the icebox with a perplexed expression.
“Is something the matter?” Tonks inquired, pushing her chair back and nearly tipping it in the process.
He looked up quickly, his eyes mild and confused. “I thought that you said there were plenty of leftovers from breakfast.”
“There are.” She walked over to the icebox, and Remus obligingly held the door open so that she could see the contents. It wasn’t empty, with condiments and bottles of milk, pumpkin juice and butterbeer spread across the shelves, but no leftovers from the huge breakfast remained within. Compared to how Molly usually kept it stocked, it was bare. The sight hit her like a punch to the stomach, and her voice came out almost a croak as she stammered, “I swear to Merlin, Remus, there was a lot left!”
“It doesn’t matter,” Remus said dismissively, shrugging away the incongruity though Tonks thought that she detected a hint of disappointment in his voice. “I can make a sandwich for my breakfast easily enough.”
Taking a few fixings from the icebox, he turned to the task, leaving Tonks to stare into the betraying appliance for another minute. “It doesn’t make any sense,” she muttered sourly before letting the door swing shut. She felt stupid over the two errors, and it was worse because she knew that she hadn’t been incorrect; Moody should have been downstairs, and the kitchen should have been stocked. After all, she’d seen the evidence with her own eyes. And yet here she was, looking the fool in front of Remus because, somehow, the evidence was wrong.
It just didn’t make sense at all.
Turning from the counter, sandwich in hand, Remus must have seen the look on her face. “It’s not a big deal,” he said, gesturing with the food toward the icebox. “I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find out that Kreacher made off with it. He’s a blasted nuisance.”
Tonks only grimaced, watching Remus tear into his sandwich hungrily. Plausible, yes, but the house elf’s depredations were seldom so impersonal. Her senses were tingling again, this time not from any spell but from an intuition, and one with which she was becoming all too familiar. Something was wrong.
She watched Remus finish his breakfast, probing the feeling as one would a healing scar. It wasn’t sure enough to mention, but its very insistence puzzled and disturbed the young Auror, who’d been taught to trust these perceptions. Is this the beginning of my own paranoia, like Mad Eye’s? she thought, idly picking at a small hole in the sleeve of the green jumper she’d thrown on that morning. Maybe I ought to talk to him about it…
Only a few minutes had passed since she’d cast the spell before a clamor came from upstairs; exchanging glances, Tonks and Remus bolted for the stairs, racing up the steps with wands drawn as they sought the source of the commotion. The noise led them to the fireplace in the living room, where they found Mad Eye Moody’s head sitting on the grate and bellowing for someone to tell him why he’d been summoned.
“Alastor!” Remus dropped to his knees beside the hearth, bringing his face on a level with the old man’s. “Has anyone at the Ministry mentioned the members of the Registry to you?”
The Auror’s seamed face wrinkled as he squinted thoughtfully. “Not directly,” he replied in his rasping voice. “There have been a few referred to us as dropouts, failing to contact the Registry about changes in residence, but no more than half a dozen.” He paused, eyeing Remus with a stern gaze though his blue Eye rolled ceaselessly in its socket. “What concerns you about the Registry?”
Remus swore softly. “I got an owl last night,” he began, fumbling in his coat pocket for a folded, cream-colored piece of parchment paper. “An official one, from the Registry, calling me in for an interview first thing this morning. It’s their right according to statutes, and I’ve been cold-called before, so I didn’t think too much of it at the time.
“But they’ve never called me in for an interview at five a.m. before this one.”
Tonks and Moody both stared at him. “I’d wondered why you weren’t at the meeting,” Tonks said quietly, the uneasiness building once again. She sat down on the floor, brow furrowed in concentration while Moody’s blue Eye spun forward, joining its mate in studying the parchment Remus was holding out to him. Finally he looked up from the paper, frowning at the younger man.
“Those are after-hours for the Ministry. Registry employees are just overstated bureaucrats- no one ought to be there but Unspeakables and Aurors that early.”
Remus nodded. “I thought as much. I don’t believe that they wanted witnesses… or interference.”
“Interference? Witnesses?” Tonks chimed in from behind him. “Remus, what the bloody hell are you getting at?”
“We’ve been tagged,” Remus said, letting the paper flutter to the floor as he pulled at the collar of his shirt. “I had my suspicions, but if they’re sneaking this behind the back of the Ministry, then there’s no doubt that this is illegal.”
Tonks had sat up straight at his words, nearly shaking with anger. “Tagged? You’re damn straight it’s illegal! Moody…”
“Hush, girl.” Moody’s voice snapped like a drill sergeant, and Tonks cut off her tirade mid-word. His face was grim, and his blue Eye had ceased its frantic movements and was instead focused on Remus with a tangible intensity. “What kinds of tag have they put on you?”
The werewolf had unbuttoned his collar by then, pulling the fabric aside to expose his neck. “Here,” he answered, hooking one finger down the side of his neck and pulling a thin, nearly invisible strip of something away. It snapped back like a rubber band as soon as he released it, disappearing against his skin as it made contact. “It’s enchanted to adjust as we transform, and to store information about where we are, and at what time. Probably a few other things as well, but that’s all that we were told.”
“Volunteers?” Moody questioned, and Remus shook his head.
“Required,” he said quietly. “Incarceration for anyone who refused.”
“That’s barbaric,” Tonks spat. “There’s no justice in that- you’ve done nothing wrong!”
“Neither have most of the other werewolves who were brought in as well. The Registry is calling this ‘insurance’ for those of us who don’t cause any problems ‘in these troubled times’. They claim that these collars will be able to provide sold alibis when there is a case of werewolf attack before the Wizengamot, but I’m not sure that I want to fall back on it.” He leaned back, half-closing his eyes and looking altogether worn out. “And I’ve got a sneaking suspicion that this is just the beginning.”
“The beginning of what?” Tonks asked, but he just shook his head.
“No idea. But this isn’t about tagging lycanthropes who are too poor and paranoid to do any damage more than one night a month.”
Moody’s expression had darkened, if possible. “I think you may be right,” he rumbled. “Something is going on at the Ministry, but it’s restricted to the highest circles, and that’s unusual in and of itself. I can’t catch anything more than the rumor of a flurry of meetings taking place, which means that my sources are being blocked. If I knew more of what those meetings pertained to…” He let the words go, staring abstractedly through Remus, who exchanged worried glances with Tonks.
Tonks squirmed uncomfortably. “This has to be connected to Dumbledore’s death,” she stated. “They’d never try this if he were still alive.”
“Perhaps,” Remus acceded. “But there have never been many champions for werewolves. It could be that this has been in planning for quite some time.”
Moody growled deep in his throat at that. “Rubbish,” he snapped. “It’s too much of a coincidence for it to happen now.’ He eyed the two of them keenly, mouth drawn to a thin scowl. “I’ll keep my eyes and ears open here, see if I can’t find out some more about this ‘tagging’.” The word dropped from his lips as though it were something repugnant, and he scowled ferociously again.
“You lot had better tell this to Arthur as well. He’s got a few connections I don’t, and we’d be well advised to find out as much as we can before proceeding on this. Losing Albus, we’ve lost any second chances as well; there’s not a one of us who can manipulate the Ministry as he did.” For a moment the old man’s face clouded, frustration clearly evident, but the next he was all business once again. “Stay out of Grimmauld as much as you can until we get this sorted,” he told Remus. “You don’t need difficult questions about why you’ve been staying someplace Unplottable, should it come up before we can resolve this situation.
“And Tonks, I want you to go to Hogwarts- discretely, mind!- and tell Minerva. If there’s any out there that knew Albus’ mind, it was her, and I want her counsel on this as well. Ask her to come here this evening, and we’ll discuss what we’ve found.”
“Thank you Alastor.” Remus smiled at the head perched on the grate, and the old man gave him a toothy grin in response.
“Thank me when that bloody collar is off your neck,” he replied, and with a pop the head disappeared, and Remus and Tonks were left alone at the hearth. The werewolf looked thoughtful, staring into the empty fireplace, and Tonks stared at his neck where it was still exposed by the unbuttoned shirt. She couldn’t see the collar, but she knew that it lay against his skin, a new, degrading symbol of his affliction.
“We’ll fix this,” she murmured, touching his shoulder gently with her fingertips as she rose. He glanced up at her, a surprised but warm smile just barely touching his lips.
“Thank you,” he answered, his voice only slightly strained. She smiled at him again before starting back for her room, and a change of clothing more suitable for Hogwarts. As she mounted the steps, the sense of wrongness snaked its way back into her mind, and she shook her head grimly as she pounded up the steps one by one. The Ministry was losing its mind, if it was allowing this type of behavior to be carried out on innocent citizens, even those afflicted with lycanthropy. Even in the last great war with Voldemort, such draconian policies had never been enacted; this was utter insanity.
Despairing thoughts were quickly replaced by righteous anger. This was wrong, and if Dumbledore wasn’t there to help, well, there were plenty who still were! The resolution filled her with a burst of energy, and she sprinted the rest of the way up the steps and down the hallway, causing a murmur of disapproval from the portraits lining the walls.
In her room, she tore off the ratty jumper and denim jeans she’d been wearing and pulled on proper robes; with a thought, she changed her bubblegum pink hair to sleek black, and in a few more moments she had her broom in hand and was ready to go. As she hurried through the house to the back yard, another thought struck her, this time with a little relief. Surely this was cause enough for her odd intuitions.
Satisfied with her logic, she threw a leg over the broom and kicked off, and soon was amid the clouds, speeding for Hogwarts.
~*~*~
Title: Paradox
Dramatis Personae: Tonks, Remus, Mad Eye Moody
Scene Rating: PG (I know! Staying mild, aren't I?)
Tonks stopped short, her eyes widening in alarm. “They were right here!” she cried, stepping fully into the kitchen and looking around as though Moody and the Weasleys might only have been hiding in a corner. “Mad Eye had just come down, and Molly and the twins were cleaning up from the breakfast meeting…” Empty counters, empty sink, clean table, the cold, sterile smell of a basement rather than the hearty aromas of bacon and ham- it was as though the gathering had never happened. She stared about at a complete loss until Remus delicately cleared his throat at her back.
Turning back to the haggard werewolf, Tonks held her hands out pleadingly. “I don’t understand,” she said in hushed tones. “I swear to you, there were just here.”
Remus studied her for a moment, tired eyes weighing the sincerity in her face and voice, before finally sighing. “Well, they must have Apparated away while you were upstairs,” he said, with only a little impatience noticeable in his voice. “Still, I need to talk to Alastor…” He ran his hands through his prematurely graying hair, frustration clearly evident in the gesture, and fixed Tonks with a stern look. “Can you get in touch with him somehow, wherever he may be?”
Tonks nodded, a few of the techniques Moody had taught her quickly coming to mind. “I can’t send him a message,” she answered, “but I can get his attention and he’ll check back with me.”
He sighed, sagging into a chair and beginning to unwind the scarves from around his neck. “Please do,” he said softly. “He’ll want to know, and I could use his counsel on this matter. I’d like to ask Kingsley as well…” He paused, seeing Tonks shaking her head.
“Shacklebolt was going in to work at the office today; we can’t call him without drawing undue attention. Unless this is an emergency?” She arched a brow at him, and he frowned.
“I suppose that all depends on one’s perspective, but… no, I can wait to talk to Kingsley. It would have been nice to have another set of eyes on the problem, but it can wait.” Setting the scarves aside on the table, Remus glanced up at Tonks imploringly. “You said something about breakfast? I’m famished.”
Without thinking, she replied, “I’ll fix you a plate.” But no sooner than the words had left her mouth, a small twist on discomfort coiled around her spine, and she shivered lightly. Remus didn’t seem to notice, intent on the tidings he bore.
“Thanks,” he said, giving her a tight smile, “but I can do it. I’d rather that you call Alastor.” Hazel eyes studied her with candid entreaty, urging her to hurry, and though she still felt the peculiar chill, she agreed. While Remus rose and began pulling out a plate and silverware, she slid her wand from its sheath and closed her eyes, envisioning Moody, and a ghostly hand tapping his shoulder. Eyes shut, she muttered the short but tricky charm that would tickle Moody’s senses until he backtraced the spell to her, waiting for the telltale tingle in her skin that told her the spell had found its target. Afterwards there was nothing to do but wait until he responded to them in some way, so she turned her attention back to the sandy-haired man who was staring into the icebox with a perplexed expression.
“Is something the matter?” Tonks inquired, pushing her chair back and nearly tipping it in the process.
He looked up quickly, his eyes mild and confused. “I thought that you said there were plenty of leftovers from breakfast.”
“There are.” She walked over to the icebox, and Remus obligingly held the door open so that she could see the contents. It wasn’t empty, with condiments and bottles of milk, pumpkin juice and butterbeer spread across the shelves, but no leftovers from the huge breakfast remained within. Compared to how Molly usually kept it stocked, it was bare. The sight hit her like a punch to the stomach, and her voice came out almost a croak as she stammered, “I swear to Merlin, Remus, there was a lot left!”
“It doesn’t matter,” Remus said dismissively, shrugging away the incongruity though Tonks thought that she detected a hint of disappointment in his voice. “I can make a sandwich for my breakfast easily enough.”
Taking a few fixings from the icebox, he turned to the task, leaving Tonks to stare into the betraying appliance for another minute. “It doesn’t make any sense,” she muttered sourly before letting the door swing shut. She felt stupid over the two errors, and it was worse because she knew that she hadn’t been incorrect; Moody should have been downstairs, and the kitchen should have been stocked. After all, she’d seen the evidence with her own eyes. And yet here she was, looking the fool in front of Remus because, somehow, the evidence was wrong.
It just didn’t make sense at all.
Turning from the counter, sandwich in hand, Remus must have seen the look on her face. “It’s not a big deal,” he said, gesturing with the food toward the icebox. “I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find out that Kreacher made off with it. He’s a blasted nuisance.”
Tonks only grimaced, watching Remus tear into his sandwich hungrily. Plausible, yes, but the house elf’s depredations were seldom so impersonal. Her senses were tingling again, this time not from any spell but from an intuition, and one with which she was becoming all too familiar. Something was wrong.
She watched Remus finish his breakfast, probing the feeling as one would a healing scar. It wasn’t sure enough to mention, but its very insistence puzzled and disturbed the young Auror, who’d been taught to trust these perceptions. Is this the beginning of my own paranoia, like Mad Eye’s? she thought, idly picking at a small hole in the sleeve of the green jumper she’d thrown on that morning. Maybe I ought to talk to him about it…
Only a few minutes had passed since she’d cast the spell before a clamor came from upstairs; exchanging glances, Tonks and Remus bolted for the stairs, racing up the steps with wands drawn as they sought the source of the commotion. The noise led them to the fireplace in the living room, where they found Mad Eye Moody’s head sitting on the grate and bellowing for someone to tell him why he’d been summoned.
“Alastor!” Remus dropped to his knees beside the hearth, bringing his face on a level with the old man’s. “Has anyone at the Ministry mentioned the members of the Registry to you?”
The Auror’s seamed face wrinkled as he squinted thoughtfully. “Not directly,” he replied in his rasping voice. “There have been a few referred to us as dropouts, failing to contact the Registry about changes in residence, but no more than half a dozen.” He paused, eyeing Remus with a stern gaze though his blue Eye rolled ceaselessly in its socket. “What concerns you about the Registry?”
Remus swore softly. “I got an owl last night,” he began, fumbling in his coat pocket for a folded, cream-colored piece of parchment paper. “An official one, from the Registry, calling me in for an interview first thing this morning. It’s their right according to statutes, and I’ve been cold-called before, so I didn’t think too much of it at the time.
“But they’ve never called me in for an interview at five a.m. before this one.”
Tonks and Moody both stared at him. “I’d wondered why you weren’t at the meeting,” Tonks said quietly, the uneasiness building once again. She sat down on the floor, brow furrowed in concentration while Moody’s blue Eye spun forward, joining its mate in studying the parchment Remus was holding out to him. Finally he looked up from the paper, frowning at the younger man.
“Those are after-hours for the Ministry. Registry employees are just overstated bureaucrats- no one ought to be there but Unspeakables and Aurors that early.”
Remus nodded. “I thought as much. I don’t believe that they wanted witnesses… or interference.”
“Interference? Witnesses?” Tonks chimed in from behind him. “Remus, what the bloody hell are you getting at?”
“We’ve been tagged,” Remus said, letting the paper flutter to the floor as he pulled at the collar of his shirt. “I had my suspicions, but if they’re sneaking this behind the back of the Ministry, then there’s no doubt that this is illegal.”
Tonks had sat up straight at his words, nearly shaking with anger. “Tagged? You’re damn straight it’s illegal! Moody…”
“Hush, girl.” Moody’s voice snapped like a drill sergeant, and Tonks cut off her tirade mid-word. His face was grim, and his blue Eye had ceased its frantic movements and was instead focused on Remus with a tangible intensity. “What kinds of tag have they put on you?”
The werewolf had unbuttoned his collar by then, pulling the fabric aside to expose his neck. “Here,” he answered, hooking one finger down the side of his neck and pulling a thin, nearly invisible strip of something away. It snapped back like a rubber band as soon as he released it, disappearing against his skin as it made contact. “It’s enchanted to adjust as we transform, and to store information about where we are, and at what time. Probably a few other things as well, but that’s all that we were told.”
“Volunteers?” Moody questioned, and Remus shook his head.
“Required,” he said quietly. “Incarceration for anyone who refused.”
“That’s barbaric,” Tonks spat. “There’s no justice in that- you’ve done nothing wrong!”
“Neither have most of the other werewolves who were brought in as well. The Registry is calling this ‘insurance’ for those of us who don’t cause any problems ‘in these troubled times’. They claim that these collars will be able to provide sold alibis when there is a case of werewolf attack before the Wizengamot, but I’m not sure that I want to fall back on it.” He leaned back, half-closing his eyes and looking altogether worn out. “And I’ve got a sneaking suspicion that this is just the beginning.”
“The beginning of what?” Tonks asked, but he just shook his head.
“No idea. But this isn’t about tagging lycanthropes who are too poor and paranoid to do any damage more than one night a month.”
Moody’s expression had darkened, if possible. “I think you may be right,” he rumbled. “Something is going on at the Ministry, but it’s restricted to the highest circles, and that’s unusual in and of itself. I can’t catch anything more than the rumor of a flurry of meetings taking place, which means that my sources are being blocked. If I knew more of what those meetings pertained to…” He let the words go, staring abstractedly through Remus, who exchanged worried glances with Tonks.
Tonks squirmed uncomfortably. “This has to be connected to Dumbledore’s death,” she stated. “They’d never try this if he were still alive.”
“Perhaps,” Remus acceded. “But there have never been many champions for werewolves. It could be that this has been in planning for quite some time.”
Moody growled deep in his throat at that. “Rubbish,” he snapped. “It’s too much of a coincidence for it to happen now.’ He eyed the two of them keenly, mouth drawn to a thin scowl. “I’ll keep my eyes and ears open here, see if I can’t find out some more about this ‘tagging’.” The word dropped from his lips as though it were something repugnant, and he scowled ferociously again.
“You lot had better tell this to Arthur as well. He’s got a few connections I don’t, and we’d be well advised to find out as much as we can before proceeding on this. Losing Albus, we’ve lost any second chances as well; there’s not a one of us who can manipulate the Ministry as he did.” For a moment the old man’s face clouded, frustration clearly evident, but the next he was all business once again. “Stay out of Grimmauld as much as you can until we get this sorted,” he told Remus. “You don’t need difficult questions about why you’ve been staying someplace Unplottable, should it come up before we can resolve this situation.
“And Tonks, I want you to go to Hogwarts- discretely, mind!- and tell Minerva. If there’s any out there that knew Albus’ mind, it was her, and I want her counsel on this as well. Ask her to come here this evening, and we’ll discuss what we’ve found.”
“Thank you Alastor.” Remus smiled at the head perched on the grate, and the old man gave him a toothy grin in response.
“Thank me when that bloody collar is off your neck,” he replied, and with a pop the head disappeared, and Remus and Tonks were left alone at the hearth. The werewolf looked thoughtful, staring into the empty fireplace, and Tonks stared at his neck where it was still exposed by the unbuttoned shirt. She couldn’t see the collar, but she knew that it lay against his skin, a new, degrading symbol of his affliction.
“We’ll fix this,” she murmured, touching his shoulder gently with her fingertips as she rose. He glanced up at her, a surprised but warm smile just barely touching his lips.
“Thank you,” he answered, his voice only slightly strained. She smiled at him again before starting back for her room, and a change of clothing more suitable for Hogwarts. As she mounted the steps, the sense of wrongness snaked its way back into her mind, and she shook her head grimly as she pounded up the steps one by one. The Ministry was losing its mind, if it was allowing this type of behavior to be carried out on innocent citizens, even those afflicted with lycanthropy. Even in the last great war with Voldemort, such draconian policies had never been enacted; this was utter insanity.
Despairing thoughts were quickly replaced by righteous anger. This was wrong, and if Dumbledore wasn’t there to help, well, there were plenty who still were! The resolution filled her with a burst of energy, and she sprinted the rest of the way up the steps and down the hallway, causing a murmur of disapproval from the portraits lining the walls.
In her room, she tore off the ratty jumper and denim jeans she’d been wearing and pulled on proper robes; with a thought, she changed her bubblegum pink hair to sleek black, and in a few more moments she had her broom in hand and was ready to go. As she hurried through the house to the back yard, another thought struck her, this time with a little relief. Surely this was cause enough for her odd intuitions.
Satisfied with her logic, she threw a leg over the broom and kicked off, and soon was amid the clouds, speeding for Hogwarts.
~*~*~
