The room was peaceful, serene, unreal. Sunlight shone through the open window, settling first on the flowers on the desk and then on the body on the floor.
The body…Kingsley didn’t want to think about the body.
But the flowers, he hadn’t remembered the flowers being there before. The sunlight reflected off the petals of the white roses on the desk causing them to emit a soft enchanting glow. The roses looked like they belonged at a wedding, but now they would be present for a funeral…
He was thinking about the body again, but he couldn’t help it; this loss hit harder than most.
It had been bad enough when they lost Moody.
There was a tradition in the Auror Department that when one graduated, Alastor Moody would take the new Auror out for a drink. The time was meant to be an opportunity to pick the old legend’s brain, and to find out anything they wanted to know. When Kingsley Shacklebolt’s time had come he spent it mostly in silence.
Moody hadn’t seemed to mind that Kingsley had just sat there slowly sipping his drink. Waiting patiently, Moody had seemed to understand what was going through his mind.
When Kingsley finally spoke it had been to ask one question. “What is the hardest part?” he had whispered, a little afraid of the answer he would hear.
The grizzled old warrior had looked Kingsley straight in the eye as he said, softy, honestly, “Not letting yourself feel. When you stand over bodies of those who’ve been horrendously murdered you must remain calm. If you stay in this department for long you’ll see things you wish you never had; things you wouldn’t believe if I told you about them now.” Moody had paused for a moment letting the young Auror take his words in. “But the hardest thing,” continued Moody, “is when that body in front of you isn’t some nameless faceless person, but a friend, someone you care about. In that instant all you can do is act like that body is any other case and, Shacklebolt, that’s not always an easy thing to do.”
Taking a long draught from his hip-flask, Moody suddenly slammed in on the table. “Constant vigilance!” he cried. “Those aren’t words I toss randomly about. When times get rough, vigilance may be the only thing that you have left to fall back on.”
Vigilance.
Moody was right; vigilance was the only thing he had left to fall back on.
After one last glance at the white roses, Kingsley looked around the room to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. Satisfied that he had learned all he could, Kingsley walked out to tell Muggle Minister that he would be absent from Downing Street for a few days. He would have to explain the body, and come up with some excuse for his leaving the office at this time, but Kingsley knew that he couldn’t continue the Minister as if nothing had happened. A trusted friend and colleague was dead, and except when the Death Eaters where terrorising Muggles for sport, people weren’t murdered for no reason; especially an Auror who went out of her way to visit him in a location he specifically told her to avoid.
No, Tonks was murdered for a reason, and Kingsley would find out why.
But first he had to tell Remus that his pregnant wife was dead.
Standing outside Andromeda Tonks’ home, Kingsley wished to Merlin that he would never have to be the bearer of bad news again. Andromeda had known as soon as he handed her Tonks’ wand and Remus…he hadn’t even able to look Remus in the eye.
There was no end to the grief in this war. Sirius, Dumbledore, Moody, Tonks…
Kingsley remembered the first time that he met Tonks. As Head of the Auror Department, Scrimgeour had requested that he and some of the other Aurors meet with the latest group of recruits. There had been four of them, all standing off in a corner. The three males were all vying for the attention of the fourth, a female with bright, bubblegum pink, spiky hair who looked oblivious to the attention she was garnering. When one of the recruits conjured a flower Kingsley thought that she was going to hex him.
Kingsley had been as surprised as the recruit when she had waved her wand and caused an armload of exotic flowers to appear in his arms. “If I want flowers, I’ll conjure them on my own,” she declared as she returned her wand to her pocket.
Kingsley had chuckled; she certainly didn’t look like an Auror, but had she seemed capable enough.
Tonks…
He had to stop this. He was letting his emotions interfere with the case. He needed to figure out what was important enough for Tonks to seek him out at the Muggle Minister’s residence, what was important enough that someone had killed her because of it.
If Voldemort had simply wanted her dead he wouldn’t have sent a Death Eater to kill her on Downing Street…not unless he had to stop her before she talked to him.
Kingsley started pacing, his mind replaying the day’s events over and over in his head. He had escorted the Muggle Minister from parliament to his residence when one of the guards told him that someone was waiting for him in a side room. When he entered the room he saw Tonks lying on the floor, dead. One look at her body told him all he needed to know; she had been killed by the Killing Curse. After picking up her fallen wand from the floor he studied the room, seeing only the open window and the flowers; no sign of a struggle. Except for the body, nothing was out of place.
His feet trampled the leaves beneath as he walked; there had to be something he was missing. Perhaps it was the fact that there was no sign of a struggle that bothered him. There were no pictures blown off the wall from missed spells, nothing knocked over or out of place. Kingsley never imagined Tonks would let herself be caught by surprise, and she’d never go down without a fight.
But she hadn’t entirely been caught by surprise; he had found Tonks’ wand on the floor. Tonks had managed to draw her wand before she was killed.
Had she managed to cast a spell before she died?
Kingsley ran every detail of that room through his mind, trying to remember anything that was different. He had inspected the room that morning in his rounds; the window had been closed and the desk had been empty. It was common for the Muggle cleaning staff to open the windows on nice days, so that wasn’t unusual, but none of the staff would have placed twenty or so white roses in a room that was hardly used.
So who put the flowers there and why?
If it wasn’t the Muggles it would have to been the killer, or…
…or Tonks could have conjured them with the wand she had in her hand as she died.
Kingsley turned and walked back into the house. He paused at the entrance to the living room; Andromeda was weeping and Remus looked like a man who had nothing left to lose. The last thing Kingsley wanted to do was disturb them in their grief, but he had to. Determining whether Tonks conjured the roses would be the easiest thing to prove or disprove, and he needed to start somewhere. “Remus, Andromeda,” Kingsley said kindly. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but I need to see Tonks’ wand.”
“What? Why?” Andromeda asked.
“To see if it can tell me something.”
“Didn’t you already check for spells when you…” Remus’ voice faltered.
“There was no sign of a struggle so I didn’t think of checking,” Kingsley admitted.
Remus looked at Andromeda who nodded and held out the wand for Kingsley to take.
Placing the tip of his wand on Tonks’, Kingsley thought, Prior Incantato!
A ghostly image of white flowers came out of the wand.
Deletrius!
“Flowers?” Andromeda asked, bewildered.
Remus looked thoughtful. “Kingsley, what was Dora working on?”
Handing back the wand, Kingsley promised, “I intend to find out.”
Knowing that if he stayed any longer, Remus would insist on accompanying him, Kingsley said his farewells and walked out the door. Outside, he Disapparated and reappeared on a hill overlooking the ruins of an old castle.
When Kingsley realized that Tonks had conjured the flowers, her meaning became immediately evident. While his ancestors were not English, he had been an Englishman long enough to understand the symbolism of the white rose. Generally, the white rose was the symbol of Yorkshire, but specifically it was the symbol of the House of York of which the Castle of Middleham was once home to.
Kingsley doubted that Tonks wanted him to search the ruins of the old castle below him, but as long as he was in the general area he should be able to pick up something. Waving his wand in front of him, Kingsley checked the area for signs of recent magical activity.
There was something; it was so faint that either it was far off or it had happened some time ago. Kingsley headed in that direction, following the trace through the signs that came out of his wand.
Kingsley had been walking for about twenty minutes when he saw an abandoned old house that his eyes had glanced by the first time he had looked. Clutching his wand, Kingsley moved silently through the overgrown grass.
Opening the door, Kingsley froze.
In the middle of the floor lay a single blood red rose.
Taking a step towards the rose, Kingsley was stopped by the voice of his mentor rising in his mind.
Constant Vigilance.
Kingsley’s eyes darted around the room, quickly analyzing the space. Then he pulled out his wand and did a series of nonverbal detection spells. Satisfied that the house was empty and that the only residue of magic was coming from around the rose, Kingsley allowed himself to approach the flower.
The rose was resting on the pages of an open book. Spatters of dried blood covered the page like teardrops coming out of the rose. Not wishing to touch the book, Kingsley levitated it to read its cover. It was written in Ancient Ruins, but Kingsley remembered enough of the subject to see that it said, Blood Magic.
Kingsley sucked in his breathe in surprise. Blood magic was an ancient and forbidden art due to its foundations being steeped in the Dark Arts, but when had that ever stopped the Death Eaters from dabbling in it?
Reading the open pages was more difficult due to the blood, the rose, and his rusty vocabulary. However, after a few minutes of reading what he could, Kingsley understood that someone had cast a very powerful spell of protection over themselves. If Tonks had known this, it might explain why she had conjured the roses instead of attempting to defend herself; the only spells that would have broken a protection this powerful would have been an Unforgivable. Tonks had too kind of heart to ever use an Unforgivable, even when it put her life, and the life of her child, at risk.
But there was another puzzle Kingsley could not figure out. The blood on the page obviously represented blood magic, but what was the rose supposed to represent?
Kingsley Shacklebolt had been an Auror for too long to still believe in coincidence.
Conjured white roses led him to a location where he found a single red rose. Tonks had been thinking of more than just location when she left him that clue, and Kingsley doubted that heading off to Lancaster would send him in the right direction.
White and red roses; it was like a modern day War of the Roses.
White roses, red roses, and spell of protection...What did it all mean?
When the War of the Roses concluded King Henry VII had combined the Red Rose of Lancaster and the White Rose of York to create the Tudor Rose.
Merlin, help me.
No wonder Tonks had been murdered, someone was going to attack the Queen!
If he told his superiors about this they would never believe him. The clues were not strong enough, and Kingsley was relying heavily on instinct, but he knew Tonks. They had worked together on so many cases that they knew exactly how the other would act in particular situations. The red rose on the book must have been left by Tonks as a clue to enable Kingsley to uncover this plot. This particular line of reasoning may be crazy, but Kingsley knew deep inside that it was leading him on the right path.
Reason was the only thing that kept Kingsley from rushing off to Buckingham or Windsor Palace, or wherever the Queen happened to be at moment. Whoever was planning this had clearly thought ahead and simply shadowing the Queen might not be enough to stop the coming attack. He needed to figure when, where, who, and why.
Other than the book, the house was his only clue and Kingsley searched it from top to bottom. Only a few of the rooms were actually habitable, and in one he found a pile of blankets and some extra clothes. Other tidbits included a variety of necessities, but no personal items. Kingsley found nothing that gave a hint as to identity of inhabitant other than the fact that he was most likely male, was of medium build, and was living alone.
Returning to the first room, Kingsley looked closer at the book. Again he used his wand to levitate it, but this time he also whispered spells to turn the pages; Kingsley had thought that the spell he read about on the open page was gruesome due to the amount of blood, but at least that spell was defensive. Some of the effects of the others showed clearly why Blood Magic was banned.
Banned…
Turning to the front of the book, Kingsley looked at the publisher name, Magical Pages. Kingsley was in luck; he recognized it and, despite its innocent sounding name, Magical Pages published some of the most notorious works in the Wizarding World today. While no store was banned from carrying books published by Magical Pages, most knew its reputation well enough to know that they didn’t want the clientele the firm catered to showing up on their doorstep. Only one store in Britain stocked their works.
It looked like Kingsley would be travelling to Knockturn Alley.
Kingsley appeared in an alley near the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. Walking almost up to the street, he studied the figures of Muggles walking by. The alley was a safe Apparation point; as long as Kingsley stood inside it no Muggle would be able to see him. As a large group of Muggles passed, Kingsley stepped out and blended in with the back of the group.
Kingsley reached the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron and kept walking; at the first side street he turned right. Counting alleyways, Kingsley walked briskly across the cobblestones until he reached the seventh opening. The presence of a dark street lamp that looked like it was about to fall out of the wall showed that he was in the right place.
Turning into the alley, Kingsley couldn’t stop a shiver as the cold air reached him. The air was thick, too thick. Kingsley grasped his wand, excepting a Dementor to appear at any moment, but one failed to materialize. Maybe he was being too vigilant, but thoughts of Tonks’ dead body kept Kingsley’s hand firmly on his wand.
About a third of the way down the alley, he stopped before an old drainage pipe. At the spot where the gray metal began to rust, Kingsley tapped it with his wand. A wooden door appeared, which he quickly opened and stepped though. When he closed the door, it disappeared, leaving Kingsley standing alone in the deepest, darkest corner of Knockturn Alley.
Kingsley looked about the dirty stone alleyway. He hated Knockturn Alley, but as an Auror he was required to know every stone and brick. However, Kingsley was a fairly well known figure so he kept to the shadows until he reached his destination, an ancient looking bookstore that hopefully held some answers.
Opening the door, Kingsley was surprised as he walked into a brightly lit room, the musty smell of books hitting his nose. His eyes flickered around the room catching every detail; the walls where lined with selves of books, but they were intermixed with vials of fluids. The shopkeeper was standing behind the counter, but he didn’t seem to notice Kingsley’s entrance. Instead, his eyes were focused on the beaker of liquid that he was pouring into a vial. The shopkeeper was relatively young and athletic; he looked as if he belonged on the Quidditch pitch, not crouched over a vial of some potion.
Biding his time, Kingsley walked over to a self and picked up one of vials nestled between two books. Kingsley browed furrowed when he recognized the substance; it was an ingredient used in many poisons, exactly the type of thing one expected to find in Knockturn Alley, but not in a bookstore.
The shopkeeper must have finished his task for he must have noticed Kingsley expression. “What’s the point in selling my books if my customers can’t get the supplies listed in them?” the shopkeeper asked.
“Efficient,” Kingsley agreed, replacing the vial on the self.
“Can I help you?”
Kingsley decided that it would be best to be direct. “Do you stock Magical Pages’ books?”
The shopkeeper looked Kingsley up and down before answering, “I might have a book here and there.”
“I’m looking for Blood Magic.”
“Tough luck, I sold my only copy a couple of days ago. I can order another if you like.”
“Do you know who bought it?”
The man shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “Nope, didn’t ask. Does it matter?”
Kingsley forced himself not to roll his eyes. He knew this type all too well: young, cocky, practically convinced that they were invincible. He probably ended up in Knockturn Alley just for the thrill of it. “Yes, it matters,” Kingsley replied calmly.
“Look, if I knew who he was I’d tell you, but I don’t.”
“Can you describe the person?”
The shopkeeper seemed to think it about for a moment than asked, “You’re an Auror aren’t you?”
“Yes, and I don’t want to have to confiscate some of your supplies,” Kingsley said with a nod toward the vial he had picked up.
The young man spread his hands as he replied, “I never said I wasn’t helping. The guy was a little bit younger than me, but definitely out of school.”
The perfect age for Voldemort to find new recruits.
“What did he look like?”
“Er…brown hair, about average height, I suppose.”
“Did he ask specifically for the book?”
“No, but he described the spell he needed; some sort of defensive shield that would block most spells aimed at him.” The shopkeeper got a smirk on his face as he added, “He must not have much faith in the ability of your Ministry to protect him.”
Kingsley ignored the jab, for this confirmed that he and the shopkeeper were thinking about the same suspect. The rest of the information, while vague, at least let him rule out all the Death Eaters that the Order was aware of, but they also knew that Voldemort’s ranks were growing.
A few more questions yielded no more useful information, so Kingsley left the shop. Outside, he leaned against the brick wall to gather his thoughts; the man’s comment about the Ministry bothered him.
It was no secret that the Ministry had fallen, so why was he letting its actions get to him? Kingsley knew the risk he was taking when he decided to stay inside the Ministry for as long as he could. He hated how the people who should be used to protect others from Voldemort were instead being used to hunt down Muggleborns. It was only to keep up pretexts that Kingsley was still left guarding the Muggle Minister.
The truth was, it was harder to continue working for the Ministry with everyday that passed, especially a Ministry that held no respect for those who gave their lives to protect it. Kingsley had half a mind to walk away from it all and let the Ministry destroy itself, but Kingsley had taken an oath on the day he became an Auror; he had sworn to protect and defend the Ministry and all it stood for. He would honor his vow, even if the place held no honor. Not for the Ministry, but for those in who had died for her.
Tonks, I will figure this case out if it’s the last thing I do; I promise you.
Finding the darkness of Knockturn Alley oppressive, Kingsley headed for the familiar cobblestones of Diagon Alley, but today the cobblestones brought no warmth. The streets were empty except for the ragged robes of a few beggars wandering about.
Filthy hands grabbed onto his robes as a raspy voice pleaded. “A Knut, can you spare a poor wizard a Knut?”
Bile rose in Kingsley throat as he looked into those desperate eyes. Fumbling with his purse, Kingsley pressed a few Sickles in the man’s hands before walking away. Kingsley had known about the beggars and the new Ministry policies, but he had detached himself from the reality. Guarding the Prime Minister and stopping Voldemort had let him refuse to acknowledge the truth, and here it was in front of him.
Why were his eyes being opened now?
Lost in his thoughts, Kingsley wandered aimlessly until he almost stepped on an abandoned copy of the Daily Prophet. Picking it up, he saw a picture of Tonks on the front page.
Auror Found Dead
Ministry authorities report that Nymphadora Lupin was discovered dead at Number Ten Downing Street leaving many to wonder what she was doing there in the first place. Ministry official Dolores Umbridge informed the Prophet that it possible that she was killed by the Auror guarding the Muggle Minister during an attack against the Minister. “After all,” Umbridge reasoned, “anyone who marries a Werewolf would be capable of such a despicable act.”
Umbridge is referring to Nymphadora Lupin’s husband Remus Lupin, a known Werewolf and friend of Harry Potter. One is forced to wonder why such a person who willingly associates with Dark Creatures and criminals was still under the employ of the Ministry of Magic…
The newsprint crinkled as Kingsley’s fists balled in anger. How dare Umbridge say that Tonks attacked the Muggle Minister and that he had been the one who killed her! He hadn’t even managed to file a report on Tonks’ death to his superiors, and they were already using her death to further attack Harry Potter. Kingsley had half a mind to march up the Ministry and hex every official in sight, but enough of his mind remained to know how foolhardy such an attack would be. His only option was to continue to pretend to support the Ministry while he worked to ensure Voldmort’s defeat.
As Kinglsey was about to chuck the paper in a nearby bin when another article caught his eye. This article spoke of how an official from the Ministry would be attending the national Remembrance Sunday memorial service tomorrow in order to lay a wreath on the Cenotaph in honour of the witches and wizards who had died fighting in England’s wars.
Remembrance Sunday, how could have he forgotten? Kingsley was supposed to guard the Muggle Minister as he attended the event along with other government officials and members of the Royal Family. It was all too possible that Tonks’ murderer was planning to attack the Queen at this ceremony.
The more he thought about it the more the puzzle pieces starting following into place. The assassin wouldn’t go out of his way to use a Blood Magic spell for protection unless his attack was taking place in a location where the assailant was expecting resistance. As much as Kingsley didn’t want to admit it, it would not be difficult for a wizard to kill the Queen in her residence; all the attacker would have to do was use magic to sneak past the Muggle guards. But killing the Queen at a high profile event would be a little more difficult, and…
And it would completely destroy any relationship between the Wizarding and Muggle worlds. No one would be able to Obliterate this from the minds of Muggles; it would create absolute chaos and distrust. In other words, it would create the perfect environment for Voldemort to come openly into power.
There was no doubt in Kingsley mind that the attack would come tomorrow at Whitehall where the ceremonies would take place. The Ministry wouldn’t believe him if he told them, so it was up to him to ensure that Tonks had not died in vain.
He had less than twenty-four hours, but at least he had that.
The sky began to darken as Kingsley began to ponder his next move. He still didn’t know who the attacker was, but he knew when and where the assassin would strike. The problem was it was always easier to stop a murder if one could get to the murderer before the planned attempt. It was becoming increasingly likely that would not happen, so Kingsley’s only option would be to stop the assassin as the attack was taking place.
It would not be an easy task, especially for one man. Luckily, Kingsley didn’t have to tackle this alone. The Ministry wouldn’t help, but he knew many who would.
The Order of the Phoenix would do what the Ministry would not.
After checking to ensure that he was still alone, Kingsley composed the message he needed to send as he thought, Expecto Patronum! A wisp of silver shot out of his wand. Kingsley saw his lynx Patronus look back at him before disappearing into the evening sky.
It was at that same evening sky at which Kingsley was looking an hour later as he waited for the arrival of an ally. Leaning back against the cool metal of an iron gate Kingsley looked calm even as his eyes darted the length of the street. He stood outside of one of London’s many parks, which due to the time, was thankfully closed.
As a solitary figure walked towards the gate, Kingsley kept a tight grip on his wand until he saw the scarred face of Bill Weasley.
As Bill stood beside him he said, “I received your Patronus. What animal is that again?”
“A lynx.”
Relief flickered across Bill’s eyes before he start talking. “Kingsley, everyone’s worried about you. You’ve disappeared and the Ministry saying you killed Tonks.”
“I didn’t,” Kingsley said firmly.
“We know that,” Bill assured him. “But what happened?”
“She was murdered. I don’t know by whom yet, but I do know that she was killed in order to keep us from learning about a plot to kill the Queen.”
Bill whistled. “What can we do?”
“I need as many people as possible to spread out among the crowd at tomorrow’s Rembrance Sunday ceremonies. Contact Hestia, Elphias, and anyone in your family who can come.”
“What about Remus?”
Kingsley didn’t want to disturb Remus in his grief, but he needed all the help he could get. He also knew that if he was in Remus’ shoes he would be furious if he wasn’t informed. “Tell him,” Kingsley ordered. “Tell them we are looking for a man who is most likely in his upper teens, has brown hair, and is about average height. Also, warn everyone that he has performed a very powerful Blood Magic spell that will prevent most spells from having an effect. So if you find him use magic to manipulate the environment around him.”
“Will do.” Bill nodded, than looking worried, asked him. “Do you think we can stop him?”
Kingsley remembered the words of his mentor as he replied, “Vigilance. If we remain vigilant we have a chance.”
After he gave Bill his orders, there wasn’t much more Kingsley could do so he Apparated back to his own flat. He knew that he needed food and sleep, but the thought of food revolted him and the prospect of sleep looked unlikely. The trouble was that he liked his plans well thought out and planned. If he had change his plan in the middle of situation that was fine, but never had Kingsley gone into a situation knowing as little as he would know tomorrow.
That was the problem with this case; everything he had done today had been a reaction to finding Tonks’ body on the floor at Number Ten Downing Street. The truth of the matter was that people who only reacted to situations lost. If Kingsley continued to simply react, he would be playing the assassin’s game until the Queen was dead. After that it would not matter if he caught the man or not, the damage would already be done.
It was that realisation that kept Kingsley away from food or sleep.
Collapsing into an armchair, Kingsley contemplated his problem. How could he be proactive when he knew almost nothing about the man he was supposed to catch?
His fingers tapped a rhythm on the arm of his chair as various scenarios ran through his mind, every single one of them ending in disaster; it would take a miracle for a member of the Order to see the assassin draw his wand and manage to stop him before a spell was cast.
Not liking where his thoughts were leading him, Kingsley rose from his chair and walked over to a cupboard. Opening the door, he pulled out a bottle of Firewhisky; if he was going to act this depressed he might as well drown himself in his sorrows.
The irony was that even as Kingsley held the bottle in his hands he knew that he would never drink it. He held himself to too high of standards to get drunk before he was to go on duty. He was not...
The cool glass slipped through his fingers as the bottle fell and hit the floor. Kingsley didn’t even notice that the bottle was gone or that shards of glass covered the floor and liquid splattered over the bottom of his robes and shoes, he was so lost in his thoughts.
The Firewhisky had given him an idea, but it was an idea that, possibly, was crazy enough to work.
The catch was that it wouldn’t be easy to convince Mundungus to help, but perhaps the fact that he wouldn’t even have to be sober might help.
As it turned out, Mudungus wasn’t the hardest person Kingsley had to convince.
“Have you lost your senses?” Elphias Dodge demanded. “To allow…to have…it’s undignified,” stammered the elderly wizard.”
“It is hard to be dignified when you’re dead,” argued Bill.
Elphias glared at the younger wizard as if he was trying to decide what offended him more, his words or his pony-tail and dragon fang earring.
“Enough,” Kingsley ordered as he looked at the crowd gathered in this pre-dawn hour. Outside it was still dark, and the members of the Order of the Phoenix were hidden on the top floor of a church overlooking Whitehall road. Elphias looked exactly like the old war veteran he was supposed to portray, dressed in a Muggle World War I uniform. Mundungus sat unhappily in a corner clutching a bottle of Firewhisky in a death grip. The Weasleys”Arthur, Molly, Bill, Fred, and George”all sat together trying to look to relaxed and calm. Remus stood aloof, clearly still grieving, but he had a sense of determination about him; he would do his part. Only Hestia Jones seemed cheerful as she stood beside Elphias, looking like she had just left one of government offices on Whitehall. Kingsley knew that she too was worried, but this was how Hestia dealt with challenges, by trying to keep everyone’s hopes up. Kingsley faced them all, his back to the stain-glass windows, on the other side of which Muggles were busy running security sweeps and setting up for the ceremonies that would happen later this morning.
As the Muggles made sure everything was ready, Kingsley made sure that his group was too. “Fred, George, you know what you’re going to do?”
“Help Dung create chaos and mayhem, our specialty,” the twins responded simultaneously.
“Don’t worry,” George said.
“We’ll do our part,” Fred added with a grin.
Kingsley didn’t doubt that, but he hoped that the twins wouldn’t get carried away. “Just make sure Dung gets past the guards.”
Turning on Mundungus, Kingsley voice became stern.”Absolutely no Apparating until you are away from the cameras or I’ll skin your hide and feed you to the Thestrals. Understood?”
Dung nodded and clutched his bottle tighter. Using Mundungus was a wild card, but Kingsley held onto the hope that he would pull through.
Looking at Bill, Kingsley asked, “Do you have the Invisibility Cloak?”
“Yes.”
“I want you on the roof of the Foreign Office and if you see the assassin move before the distraction…”
“Make the signal early.”
“And leave. No sticking around.” Kingsley ordered.
“Hestia, I want you on the east side of the road. Get as close as you can, but your main job is to watch the crowd. Remus, I need you to do the same thing on west side. Elphias, stick with the veterans outside the Foreign Office in case our attacker tries to get the Queen as soon as she leaves the office. Arthur and Molly, you are a grieving couple remembering the death of your son. Mingle with the crowd north of Cenotaph. I’ll be with the guard escort, and we’ll end up east of the Cenotaph.
“You all know your parts and I don’t need to press on you the importance of succeeding. Tonks died to give us this opportunity…” Kingsley faltered as he voice caught. He continued in a solemn whisper, “Let’s not waste it.”
No one spoke as silent determination filled the room.
Kingsley turned and looked out the Stained-glass windows onto the street below. Later this morning, England would gather to remember her dead. For Kingsley, the names of the dead he knew were closer to his heart than they had ever been before.
Sirius, Dumbledore, Moody, Tonks…
Their deaths would not be in vain.
In a few hours the assassin would make his move, but he would be ready. Kingsley would make his move first.
When the crowds filled every space on Whitehall Street, Kingsley waited inside the Foreign Office with the Muggle Minister, the Royal family, and the other dignitaries awaiting the signal to walk to the Cenotaph. Proudfoot, the Auror assigned to the Minister in his absence, looked surprised to see Kingsley, but he had accepted Kingsley’s explanation that he had shown up because he believed that two Aurors would be better in a crowd this size.
Muggle attendants arranged the delegation, and Kingsley held his breath as the door opened and two guards stepped out. When they saw no danger they moved to the side, allowing the Queen and the rest of the delegation to walk onto the street.
Every step to the stone memorial filled Kingsley with dread as one eye remained fixed on the Queen and the other scanned the crowd. They reached their places beside the Cenotaph and Kingsley was relieved when he managed to place himself only a few steps away from the Queen.
They weren’t standing long before two chimes followed by the boom of a canon brought the crowd to a still. For two minutes the crowd stood in prayerful silence as the guards kept a vigilant watch.
The silence hung in the air until the solemn notes of a trumpet mourned the sacrifice of the dead.
When the music changed, Kingsley gripped his wand as the Queen was handed a wreath of poppies and starting walking alone to the Cenotaph.
Don’t fail me Dung.
Kingsley heard, rather than saw that Mundungus had come through when he heard the whole crowd simultaneously gasp as a filthy drunken ragged man stumbled past a row of disoriented guards right onto the path of the Queen. The dignified old woman froze as Dung came toward her mumbling something that Kingsley couldn’t understand. Dung didn’t get a chance to repeat himself as the guards that the twins managed to temperately disorient quickly fell upon him and started to drag him off the street.
Kingsley used the opportunity to move out onto the street, serving as backup in case the drunkard broke loose of his guard. The crowd around him looked shocked, but no one was making any suspicious moves…
The crack of gunshots filled the air, causing the crowd to descend into a panic and guards to flood the street.
Kingsley’s plan had been overwhelmingly simple. Officials could order anyone around and be obeyed, except in the case of their security guards. If there was a threat, the guards would act, regardless of any other circumstance. If the guards believe that a threat to the Queen was real and intimate they would let no one near her, regardless of whether she had a role to play in an important ceremony or not.
Spooked by Mundungus’s appearance, and thrown into action by the sound of gunshots from Bill’s wand, the guards had forced the Queen to the ground and formed a tightly packed ring around her.
Kingsley stood with them, his back to the Queen as he watched the crowd. Most of the people were fleeing, but one young brown-haired man was pushing his way toward the street, his face filled with fury. As the man’s eyes met Kingsley’s they widened in recognition.
When Kingsley stepped forward, the man turned and ran, causing Kingsley to forcefully push Muggles out of the way as he bolted after him.
Drawing his wand, but keeping it close to his side, Kingsley looked for an opportunity to use it. When two Muggles parted in front of him, Kingsley had a clear shot at the brown-haired man and flicked his wand against his leg as he thought, Wingardium Leviosa!
A plain black suitcase wrenched itself out of its owner’s hand as it flew through the air and slammed into the suspect’s side causing him to fall to the ground. Before he could rise, Kingsley pushed him down with one hand and used his other to grab the man’s wand and stuck it in his own belt.
Kingsley forced the man, who really more of a kid, to his feet and looked into the eyes of Tonks’ murderer for the first time.
Aware that he drawing a crowd, Kingsley pushed the kid into an alley, casting a quick Muggle-repelling charm as he left the main street; the Muggles who had been watching quickly thought of something else they should be doing, leaving Kingsley alone in the alley with the murderer.
Pointing his wand threateningly at the man, Kingsley asked, “What are you doing here, kid?”
His eyes flared at the word ‘kid’ but Tonks’ murderer declared, “Your spells can’t hurt me.”
“I thought they just did,” Kingsley reasoned. “Now, tell me if there are any more Death Eaters in the crowd.”
“Death Eaters! How should I know about that?”
Grabbing his left arm, Kingsley forced the sleeve up to his to shoulder, but the skin was bare.
Something wasn’t right; Tonks’ murderer wasn’t a Death Eater. Kingsley had believed that he had this case figured out.
The kid started laughing as he understood what Kingsley was looking for. “You really think that they would let a filthy worthless Mudblood like me become a Death Eater?”
Mudblood?
“Who are you,” Kingsley demanded.
Tonks’ murderer’s voice filled with hate as he ranted, “At Hogwarts, I was prefect, Head Boy, and Quidditch Captain. I had the best grades of my year and went to the Yule Ball with the most beautiful girl available, and you ask me who I am?
“Of course,” he sneered. “Your Ministry doesn’t care about that anymore. To them I’m nothing, but a criminal!”
Hands grabbed Kingsley’s shoulders and pushed him away, as wisps of green smoke starting coming out of his assailant’s left hand. “I had everything until your Ministry took it away!”
Kingsley rolled as he hit the ground, rising with his wand in position to attack. Incarcerous!
Thick ropes flew out of Kingsley wand, but failed to wrap themselves around his opponent. When the spell failed, Kingsley’s opponent laughed as the wisps of green grew more solid in his hand. “You think that you could defeat me that easily, but I will kill you and the Queen, and then no witch or wizard will ever able to set foot on England again.
“Finally, you Purebloods will understand what it means to be hunted,” Tonks’ murderer cried as he threw the mass of green toward Kingsley.
Diving out of the way, Kingsley pointed his wand at what looked like a miniature dragon made of green smoke. Repello! Stupefy! Reducto!
All the spells went right through it as Kingsley was forced to roll to dodge its attack. He didn’t know what would happen if he let that thing hit him, but he didn’t want to find out. This was crazy; no one should be able to create something this powerful without a wand.
Keeping his body moving, Kingsley chanced a quick glance at his opponent who was deep in concentration as his hands shifted with the movements of his green dragon. Kingsley got an idea as his feet slid out from under him; he had tripped over a fallen brick that his Reductor Curse must have blown from the wall.
Grabbing that same brick, Kingsley stood and sprinted toward the young man with the dragon fast behind him. He swung his arm behind his head and, as his opponent saw him, hit him solidly on the side of his head with the brick. His assailant’s body dropped, and when Kingsley twirled around the green dragon was nowhere in sight.
Kingsley collapsed to ground beside the unconscious body of Tonks’ murderer, aching all over and completely drained. He should have found comfort in the fact that the Queen was safe, but he couldn’t. Instead he felt shame, guilt; this young man’s life was ruined because of the Ministry he worked for.
The man had made a choice and would stand trial and face the consequences for that choice, but this whole incident would have been prevented if the Ministry had remained true to its principles; the principles of truth, justice, and equality.
The principles Kingsley believed that he would be upholding as Auror.
If that was wasn’t hard enough to bear, Kingsley also had to live with the knowledge that Tonks would have willingly died in order to save her murderer from the fate that the Ministry had decreed for him.
Nothing seemed right anymore as Kingsley stared at the face of a young man who had been driven to murder, and the belief that the Wizarding World should be destroyed because of the Ministry’s new principals.
The sound of footsteps broke Kingsley away from his thoughts as he saw Remus enter the alley. Remus drew in a sharp breath at the sight before him and quickly rushed to Kingsley side. “Is this the one,” he asked.
“Yes, do you know who he is?”
When Remus bent over the body, Kingsley knew from the look on his face what the answer would be. “He was a student of mine. His name is Roger Davies and he has one of the brightest minds I’ve ever seen.” Remus shook his head. “I don’t understand…”
“He’s Muggleborn.”
Remus looked at Kingsley with horror in his eyes, and Kingsley knew that he was putting pieces of the puzzle rapidly together.
Further conversation was ended with the arrival of several Aurors from the Ministry and the last person on earth that Kingsley wanted to see. Not that he should have been surprised; the presence of this much magic in a concentrated area at the heart of the government in Muggle London should have set off several alarms at the Ministry.
“Hem, hem,” Dolores Umbridge said as she surveyed the scene in front of her. “What is going on here, Shacklebolt?”
Kingsley carefully picked himself off the ground and quickly summerised all he discovered since Tonks had been murdered.
The look on Umbridge’s face could only be described as gleeful when she realised that this all was the work of a Muggleborn. “Tut, tut,” she replied sadly. “Now we know why it’s so important to keep magic away from Muggles.”
Anger rose so quickly with him that Kingsley had to concisely fight to keep his reaction from appearing on his face. Kingsley wanted to hex Umbridge, to make her see the pain she was causing, to make her pay for Tonks’ death, to make her pay for the plot against the Queen.
The corrupt toad bore as much responsibility, if not more, for these events as Davies. And he would make sure that she understood this.
“No,” Kingsley said calmly. “Now we know why it’s important for the Ministry to remain just or the citizens she’s supposed to protect will fall with her.”
Umbridge’s face filled with fury. “Are you accusing my program to find criminals as responsible for this attack?”
“I am,” Kingsley stated.
“I think,” Umbridge replied, smiling sweetly. “That we are going to have a little talk when we return to the Ministry.”
The Ministry.
When Kingsley was younger he had believed that the highest honour he could achieve would be to be charged with protecting the Ministry and all it stood for. Even now, when all the Ministry stood for was corruption and bigotry, Kingsley still loved its hallowed halls.
But how could he continue to work for a Ministry that made the good die in order to save others from the consequences of its own wickedness?
The sad truth was that Kingsley stayed with the Ministry because he saw it as the lesser of two evils, and he had believed that he could overlook the Ministry’s evil in order to defeat the greater evil of Voldemort.
He couldn’t anymore.
“I think we won’t,” Kingsley answered. “I’m resigning from my post as Auror.”
Umbridge’s fists balled as she yelled, “It’s treason to walk away from your position in a time of war!”
“I didn’t walk away from the Ministry, it walked away from me.” Kingsley said as he glared at Umbridge. Anger crept into his voice as he promised, “I will promise you one thing. When this war is over, and the evil of Voldemort and in the Ministry has been defeated, I will come back. And I swear that I will make the Ministry worthy to be served again.”
With those words Kingsley turned on his heel and walked out of the alley with Remus at his side.
“Traitor!” Umbridge screamed at his back. “I’ll make you pay for this!”
Kingsley looked back over his shoulder and smiled at her. “Then arrest me, I dare you.”
Umbridge looked expectantly at the Aurors standing beside her, but in the time it took Umbridge to realise that no one was moving, Kingsley and Remus had disappeared into the crowds.
When they had placed a good distance between themselves and Umbridge, Kingsley shook off Remus telling him that he needed to talk to the Muggles before they found out he had resigned. While that was true, what Kingsley really needed was some time alone to sort what had just happened, and what he had just done.
He had resigned from his position as an Auror.
The decision was final; he couldn’t go back and change it even if he wanted to. Kingsley believed that he had made the right decision, so why did he feel so guilty?
It was that oath, Kingsley was sure of it. When he had become an official Auror, Kingsley had sworn to protect and preserve the Ministry and its citizens. But did he really need to a part of the Ministry to fulfill those duties?
Even if he was no longer part of the Ministry he could still be an Auror.
Kingsley would do his duty, he still was a warrior.
A warrior who would be vigilant against evil wherever it is found.
He would continue the fight against Voldemort and the corruption at the Ministry, and if he had to single-handedly rebuild the Ministry, he would. Because if there was one thing that Kingsley still believed, it was in the ability of Ministry to one day be a source of good for Magical World; too much blood had been spilled on the behalf of it for him to ever lose faith in that belief.
If Kingsley did that he would remain true to his oath.
While he had been thinking, his feet had brought him to the foot of Cenotaph. Reaching out a hand to the cold stone, Kingsley traced the words, “The glorious dead.”
The world made so much out of remembering, but the truth was they never did. How different would this situation be if they had remembered the lessons of Grindelwald?
Removing the poppy that he had pinned earlier to the lapel of his jacket, Kingsley bent down and gently laid it at base of the Cenotaph. Kingsley felt a single tear roll down his check as he pledged to Tonks and to the rest of glorious dead, “I will always remember.”
He never did forget.
The Vigilant Warrior by Gonz
Chapter Notes: Huge thanks are in order to Viv for being my wonderful guide on this journey, and Mapoi (Mudblood_and_Proud_of_it) for reading it all and making it better.