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Sep. 6th, 2004 08:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
clumsy_aurorThe telephone box came to a shuddering halt in the main atrium of the Ministry of Magic, and Tonks pushed open the door. Crowley sidled out after her, busy pinning a silver badge to the lapel of his jacket; he’d somehow managed to win over the telephone box itself, it seemed, because the badge proclaimed him to be AJ CROWLEY: GORGEOUS BASTARD.
Tonks rolled her eyes and tightened the blonde ponytail at the nape of her neck. She had opted not to use any of her usual guises, today; Minister Fudge knew who she was, and by now almost certainly knew that she worked for Dumbledore. She’d tell him who she was, eventually, but it wouldn’t do to get his back up from the off. Tonks smoothed down the front of her black jacket, and motioned for Crowley to follow her.
The two of them strolled down the length of the atrium. Tonks glanced at Crowley out of the corner of her eye, and tried to suppress a shiver. There was a malice in his yellow eyes, carefully hidden behind sunglasses, that she had never seen before – not even when he had tried to push them all away that awful night. This was a Crowley who knew that he was about to do evil, and was loving every second of it.
She was suddenly very, very glad to be on his good side.
They walked past the check-in desk, Tonks briefly flashing her auror badge. When Eric tried to accost Crowley for his visitor identification and wand, the demon merely raised an eyebrow in the direction of the security guard, and the questions abruptly stopped.
Instead of heading for the lifts, Tonks led the way down a narrow stone passage secreted behind a large potted plant. Torches guttered in their brackets as the two of them swept past. When a spiral staircase made an abrupt appearance out of thin air, Tonks drew her wand and led the way up. On and on they climbed, for ten minutes or more, until Tonks at last spied a small wooden door at the top of the stairs. She ducked through it, motioning for Crowley to watch his head, and suddenly they popped out into a very different sort of hallway, this one all cool tiled floors and muted colors. It was also highly decorated with hit wizards.
The nearest one, a large burly man with a nasty scar cutting across one cheek, caught sight of them. He drew his wand and sneered menacingly, quickly bearing down on them.
“Oi! Who’re you? Got no business being in the Minister’s wing…he hasn’t got any appointments until four o’clock today.”
“Oh, but he does,” said Crowley, in a forebodingly pleasant tone. “In fact, he’s very much looking forward to speaking with my associate and I.” He lifted his sunglasses, ever so slightly, and the hit wizard’s face suddenly became very, very blank.
“Looking…forward…” he said absently. “Right…this way…”
The wizard led them down the corridor. The other people standing sentry peered at them suspiciously, and one or two of them opened their mouths to speak, but Crowley simply removed his sunglasses altogether and tucked them carefully away in his breast pocket. All of their faces immediately assumed the same blank expression.
“Mind you don’t look directly at my eyes, Tonks,” Crowley muttered under his breath. “I haven’t got a buggering clue what to ask Fudge, so kindly retain your memory.”
She nodded firmly, and a moment later, the hit wizard slowed to a stop in front of a large mahogany door.
“Minister’s office,” he said faintly, motioning them inside. “Gladys…will see…you in…”
Gladys turned out to be a very formidable-looking witch with a snow-white beehive and an expression that could curdle milk.
“What is the meaning of this?” she barked, as Tonks shut the door behind them with a decisive snap.
Crowley’s expression morphed into a sultry, cat-like smile. “Why, Gladys,” he murmured, perching himself on the edge of her desk, “that any way to talk to your old friend Crowley? We just popped by to say hello to the Minister. Now. He’s in, isn’t he? So why don’t you just go tell him that we’re here?”
Tonks could tell Gladys was going to be a tougher nut to crack than the goons in the corridor. Her face wavered, for a moment, apparently trying not to crumple under the weight of the demon’s stare. But then Crowley reached out one long finger and tipped her chin up to meet his eyes, and the lines of tension immediately left her face. She dreamily waved her wand at the door at the far end of the room, and Tonks heard the lock flick open.
Lifting her own wand, Tonks charmed the main door to the office shut, and then turned back to Gladys. “Petrificus totalus,” she chanted, and the secretary’s limbs snapped rigidly to her sides. “There. That should buy us some time. Let’s go.”
Cornelius Fudge did not look up from his work when they swung open the door. “Gladys, how many times have I told you to knock, you know how it wrecks my train of thought to be so rudely interrupted…”
“Oh, well,” said Crowley loudly, as he followed Tonks into the room, “I think you’ll find we’re much more destructive to your train of thought than dear old Gladys.”
The minister looked up, startled, and stared open-mouthed at them for a moment. “What – what is the meaning of this? Who are you? How did you get in here?” Belatedly, he fumbled for his wand in the pocket of his cloak.
“Accio wand. I suppose you could call us concerned citizens, Minister Fudge,” began Tonks, pocketing his wand when it sailed into her outstretched hand. “You see, there’ve been some rather disturbing rumours going ‘round regarding your loyalties. Care to enlighten us?”
Fudge’s face purpled, and he pushed his chair back to stand. “Young lady, I don’t know who you are, but –”
“She asked you a question. And sit down.” Crowley’s voice was steely.
Fudge sat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said faintly, beads of sweat popping out on his forehead. “No idea whatsoever.”
“Minister,” the demon continued smoothly, “my friend wants some information from you. You are going to give it to her. And you are going to tell the truth. Is that clear?”
There was a moment of profound silence, and then Fudge spoke in a choked voice. “Y-yes.”
Tonks flicked her wand, and a quill from the minister’s desk sprang to attention on a fresh sheet of parchment, ready to transcribe the conversation. Another flick, and thick ropes quickly bound Fudge to his chair.
“Now then. How long have you been a Death Eater, Minister?”
For a second, Fudge simply gaped at her. Then, with some difficulty, he spoke. “I am not…a…Death Eater…”
Tonks strode quickly over to stand beside his chair, and jerked up the sleeve of his robes. The Dark Mark, black as pitch, stared vacantly back up at her. “Would you care to reconsider that answer?” she asked slowly, forcing her voice to remain even.
“The truth, Fudge,” warned Crowley. “Or you see me in my true form.” He smiled pleasantly, and briefly extended his claws.
Paling, Fudge looked back at Tonks. “Six months. That’s all.”
“Why?”
They were interrupted suddenly by a knock at the door. Tonks stared, horrorstruck, as a young, red-headed, bespectacled man poked his head into the office.
“Minister Fudge, sir, your four o’clock is here. Shall I send them...” he trailed off, catching sight of Tonks and Crowley. “What are you doing?”
“Oh, hallo,” said Crowley, giving him a little wave. “Don’t mind us. We’re just sabotaging your boss, jeopardising your future career, and generally ensuring the ruin of your government. Go fetch us some coffee, there’s a good lad. And tell the Minister’s four o’clock to bugger off.”
“...Yes, sir. Right away, sir.” The young man turned to leave.
“Oh, and, um...” Crowley squinted at the man’s name tag, “...Weatherby?”
“Yes, sir?”
“You won’t remember us. You never came here this afternoon, see. You went to have a wank in the bathroom instead.”
“Yes, sir. Of course, sir.” The red-headed man named Weatherby bowed his way out of the room, and Crowley turned to find Tonks gaping at him.
“...What?”
“Nothing,” she sighed, shaking her head and turning her attention back to Fudge. “Now, Minister, I believe you were about to tell me why you joined the ranks of the Death Eaters.”
“Because the Dark Lord is going to win. It was the politically expedient thing to do.” Fudge’s eyes narrowed slightly, almost challenging her to disagree.
Tonks snorted. “No doubt. Otherwise you would’ve had to actually do your job. And killing Muggles and Muggle-borns, that’s just a nice side perk, is it?”
“The loss of lives is…regrettable,” he said shortly. “But I am indifferent towards Muggle-borns. If their removal from our society means that it can be salvaged, then so be it.”
“You bastard,” she snarled. “And you’ve been helping Voldemort get to Harry, haven’t you?”
“Harry Potter is insane. He causes nothing but trouble in our world, and will be stopped.” His voice was cold and calculating, and it made Tonks’ blood boil.
“What are Voldemort’s specific plans for Harry?” she asked sharply.
“I don’t know.”
Tonks nodded at Crowley, who transformed into his true guise as he crossed the room in three long strides, black wings unfurling to their full impressive span. The demon bent low over the trembling minister, forked tongue flicking out to taste the air.
After a moment, Crowley looked back up at her. “He’sssss telling the truth.”
Fudge let out a shaky gasp. “Who are you?”
Tonks leveled her wand at him once more. “My name is Nymphadora Tonks. This is the demon Crowley.”
“Tonks….” Fudge looked confused for a moment, and then comprehension dawned on his face. “The auror. One of Dumbledore’s minions. I should’ve known when you brought that…thing in here,” he spat, looking at Crowley. “Look at the sort you go about with…werewolves, half-giants, escaped murderers—”
There was a loud crack as Tonks’ fist connected with the minister’s jaw.
Crowley grinned.
Tonks grabbed Fudge’s chin and forced his eyes back around to meet hers. “When we leave here, you will remember nothing of this meeting, save this: tomorrow morning, you will resign your post as Minister of Magic, and tell the Wizengamot everything you have just told me. You will show them the Dark Mark. And you will go to Azkaban.”
Fudge opened his mouth to protest, but Crowley cut him off. “You heard the lady, mate.”
At that, the minister’s expression was wiped clean, and he stared vacantly off into space.
Tonks waved her wand once more, and the quill forced itself into Fudge’s hand, his arm still bound to the chair. “Sign,” she ordered, indicating the transcript of their conversation. He did.
Crowley reverted to his usual state, picked up the parchment, and handed it to Tonks before ushering her out of the office.
“Time for a drink, I should think.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Nice menacing, by the way.”
Tonks flashed him a bitter smile. “I learned from the best.”
Tonks rolled her eyes and tightened the blonde ponytail at the nape of her neck. She had opted not to use any of her usual guises, today; Minister Fudge knew who she was, and by now almost certainly knew that she worked for Dumbledore. She’d tell him who she was, eventually, but it wouldn’t do to get his back up from the off. Tonks smoothed down the front of her black jacket, and motioned for Crowley to follow her.
The two of them strolled down the length of the atrium. Tonks glanced at Crowley out of the corner of her eye, and tried to suppress a shiver. There was a malice in his yellow eyes, carefully hidden behind sunglasses, that she had never seen before – not even when he had tried to push them all away that awful night. This was a Crowley who knew that he was about to do evil, and was loving every second of it.
She was suddenly very, very glad to be on his good side.
They walked past the check-in desk, Tonks briefly flashing her auror badge. When Eric tried to accost Crowley for his visitor identification and wand, the demon merely raised an eyebrow in the direction of the security guard, and the questions abruptly stopped.
Instead of heading for the lifts, Tonks led the way down a narrow stone passage secreted behind a large potted plant. Torches guttered in their brackets as the two of them swept past. When a spiral staircase made an abrupt appearance out of thin air, Tonks drew her wand and led the way up. On and on they climbed, for ten minutes or more, until Tonks at last spied a small wooden door at the top of the stairs. She ducked through it, motioning for Crowley to watch his head, and suddenly they popped out into a very different sort of hallway, this one all cool tiled floors and muted colors. It was also highly decorated with hit wizards.
The nearest one, a large burly man with a nasty scar cutting across one cheek, caught sight of them. He drew his wand and sneered menacingly, quickly bearing down on them.
“Oi! Who’re you? Got no business being in the Minister’s wing…he hasn’t got any appointments until four o’clock today.”
“Oh, but he does,” said Crowley, in a forebodingly pleasant tone. “In fact, he’s very much looking forward to speaking with my associate and I.” He lifted his sunglasses, ever so slightly, and the hit wizard’s face suddenly became very, very blank.
“Looking…forward…” he said absently. “Right…this way…”
The wizard led them down the corridor. The other people standing sentry peered at them suspiciously, and one or two of them opened their mouths to speak, but Crowley simply removed his sunglasses altogether and tucked them carefully away in his breast pocket. All of their faces immediately assumed the same blank expression.
“Mind you don’t look directly at my eyes, Tonks,” Crowley muttered under his breath. “I haven’t got a buggering clue what to ask Fudge, so kindly retain your memory.”
She nodded firmly, and a moment later, the hit wizard slowed to a stop in front of a large mahogany door.
“Minister’s office,” he said faintly, motioning them inside. “Gladys…will see…you in…”
Gladys turned out to be a very formidable-looking witch with a snow-white beehive and an expression that could curdle milk.
“What is the meaning of this?” she barked, as Tonks shut the door behind them with a decisive snap.
Crowley’s expression morphed into a sultry, cat-like smile. “Why, Gladys,” he murmured, perching himself on the edge of her desk, “that any way to talk to your old friend Crowley? We just popped by to say hello to the Minister. Now. He’s in, isn’t he? So why don’t you just go tell him that we’re here?”
Tonks could tell Gladys was going to be a tougher nut to crack than the goons in the corridor. Her face wavered, for a moment, apparently trying not to crumple under the weight of the demon’s stare. But then Crowley reached out one long finger and tipped her chin up to meet his eyes, and the lines of tension immediately left her face. She dreamily waved her wand at the door at the far end of the room, and Tonks heard the lock flick open.
Lifting her own wand, Tonks charmed the main door to the office shut, and then turned back to Gladys. “Petrificus totalus,” she chanted, and the secretary’s limbs snapped rigidly to her sides. “There. That should buy us some time. Let’s go.”
Cornelius Fudge did not look up from his work when they swung open the door. “Gladys, how many times have I told you to knock, you know how it wrecks my train of thought to be so rudely interrupted…”
“Oh, well,” said Crowley loudly, as he followed Tonks into the room, “I think you’ll find we’re much more destructive to your train of thought than dear old Gladys.”
The minister looked up, startled, and stared open-mouthed at them for a moment. “What – what is the meaning of this? Who are you? How did you get in here?” Belatedly, he fumbled for his wand in the pocket of his cloak.
“Accio wand. I suppose you could call us concerned citizens, Minister Fudge,” began Tonks, pocketing his wand when it sailed into her outstretched hand. “You see, there’ve been some rather disturbing rumours going ‘round regarding your loyalties. Care to enlighten us?”
Fudge’s face purpled, and he pushed his chair back to stand. “Young lady, I don’t know who you are, but –”
“She asked you a question. And sit down.” Crowley’s voice was steely.
Fudge sat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said faintly, beads of sweat popping out on his forehead. “No idea whatsoever.”
“Minister,” the demon continued smoothly, “my friend wants some information from you. You are going to give it to her. And you are going to tell the truth. Is that clear?”
There was a moment of profound silence, and then Fudge spoke in a choked voice. “Y-yes.”
Tonks flicked her wand, and a quill from the minister’s desk sprang to attention on a fresh sheet of parchment, ready to transcribe the conversation. Another flick, and thick ropes quickly bound Fudge to his chair.
“Now then. How long have you been a Death Eater, Minister?”
For a second, Fudge simply gaped at her. Then, with some difficulty, he spoke. “I am not…a…Death Eater…”
Tonks strode quickly over to stand beside his chair, and jerked up the sleeve of his robes. The Dark Mark, black as pitch, stared vacantly back up at her. “Would you care to reconsider that answer?” she asked slowly, forcing her voice to remain even.
“The truth, Fudge,” warned Crowley. “Or you see me in my true form.” He smiled pleasantly, and briefly extended his claws.
Paling, Fudge looked back at Tonks. “Six months. That’s all.”
“Why?”
They were interrupted suddenly by a knock at the door. Tonks stared, horrorstruck, as a young, red-headed, bespectacled man poked his head into the office.
“Minister Fudge, sir, your four o’clock is here. Shall I send them...” he trailed off, catching sight of Tonks and Crowley. “What are you doing?”
“Oh, hallo,” said Crowley, giving him a little wave. “Don’t mind us. We’re just sabotaging your boss, jeopardising your future career, and generally ensuring the ruin of your government. Go fetch us some coffee, there’s a good lad. And tell the Minister’s four o’clock to bugger off.”
“...Yes, sir. Right away, sir.” The young man turned to leave.
“Oh, and, um...” Crowley squinted at the man’s name tag, “...Weatherby?”
“Yes, sir?”
“You won’t remember us. You never came here this afternoon, see. You went to have a wank in the bathroom instead.”
“Yes, sir. Of course, sir.” The red-headed man named Weatherby bowed his way out of the room, and Crowley turned to find Tonks gaping at him.
“...What?”
“Nothing,” she sighed, shaking her head and turning her attention back to Fudge. “Now, Minister, I believe you were about to tell me why you joined the ranks of the Death Eaters.”
“Because the Dark Lord is going to win. It was the politically expedient thing to do.” Fudge’s eyes narrowed slightly, almost challenging her to disagree.
Tonks snorted. “No doubt. Otherwise you would’ve had to actually do your job. And killing Muggles and Muggle-borns, that’s just a nice side perk, is it?”
“The loss of lives is…regrettable,” he said shortly. “But I am indifferent towards Muggle-borns. If their removal from our society means that it can be salvaged, then so be it.”
“You bastard,” she snarled. “And you’ve been helping Voldemort get to Harry, haven’t you?”
“Harry Potter is insane. He causes nothing but trouble in our world, and will be stopped.” His voice was cold and calculating, and it made Tonks’ blood boil.
“What are Voldemort’s specific plans for Harry?” she asked sharply.
“I don’t know.”
Tonks nodded at Crowley, who transformed into his true guise as he crossed the room in three long strides, black wings unfurling to their full impressive span. The demon bent low over the trembling minister, forked tongue flicking out to taste the air.
After a moment, Crowley looked back up at her. “He’sssss telling the truth.”
Fudge let out a shaky gasp. “Who are you?”
Tonks leveled her wand at him once more. “My name is Nymphadora Tonks. This is the demon Crowley.”
“Tonks….” Fudge looked confused for a moment, and then comprehension dawned on his face. “The auror. One of Dumbledore’s minions. I should’ve known when you brought that…thing in here,” he spat, looking at Crowley. “Look at the sort you go about with…werewolves, half-giants, escaped murderers—”
There was a loud crack as Tonks’ fist connected with the minister’s jaw.
Crowley grinned.
Tonks grabbed Fudge’s chin and forced his eyes back around to meet hers. “When we leave here, you will remember nothing of this meeting, save this: tomorrow morning, you will resign your post as Minister of Magic, and tell the Wizengamot everything you have just told me. You will show them the Dark Mark. And you will go to Azkaban.”
Fudge opened his mouth to protest, but Crowley cut him off. “You heard the lady, mate.”
At that, the minister’s expression was wiped clean, and he stared vacantly off into space.
Tonks waved her wand once more, and the quill forced itself into Fudge’s hand, his arm still bound to the chair. “Sign,” she ordered, indicating the transcript of their conversation. He did.
Crowley reverted to his usual state, picked up the parchment, and handed it to Tonks before ushering her out of the office.
“Time for a drink, I should think.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Nice menacing, by the way.”
Tonks flashed him a bitter smile. “I learned from the best.”
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Date: 2004-09-06 09:32 pm (UTC)