Tonks (doratheauror) wrote in disorderic, @ 2017-11-24 22:49:00 |
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Rhys strode purposefully forward, removing his wand from his peacoat pocket, just in case. You could never be too careful in the field; even if they did not expect to run into any dark wizards while sweeping for clues this evening, he knew better than to assume. Still, he was used to this, and spoke cheerfully as they walked the length of the creepy, seemingly abandoned pier, “Do you have any weekend plans? Doing anything fun?” Below them, the waves crashed ominously, but Rhys didn’t pay them much attention. They were Aurors on a mission, moody scenery or no. Tonks, on the other hand, wasn’t quite used to this yet. Field-work had been a critical part of training, so although it wasn’t like she’d never done this before, she could still count the number of times she’d been out in the field as a fully-fledged Auror on her fingers. And while it was mostly the same thing as when she was a trainee, Tonks got the impression they expected real Aurors to fuck up a lot less—which was stressful. Falling into step behind Rhys, Tonks scanned the pier carefully, looking for any signs of the strange incidents that had been reported in the area. Ever since the Quidditch World Cup, there had been an uptick in false alarms as people caved to fear and paranoia, and yet—not all of those alarms had been false, and it remained to be seen yet what they might be dealing with here. At the question, Tonks turned her attention back to Rhys, “My gut says ‘sleep,’ but I feel like I’d be failing as a twenty-something to admit that,” she said. “I’ll probably be coaxed by one friend or another into going out, though. How about you? Anything special with Nora?” “Never underestimate the power of sleeping in,” Rhys grinned, in good spirits despite their dreary surroundings. “I think we’ll just visit her parents. Have a nice dinner. They’ll ask us when they should expect grandchildren. You know, the usual.” He muttered a nonchalant Lumos as he moved in to examine the carved inscription on a tourist bench. It turned out to be little more than a hastily-scrawled “Ruby + Archibald 4EVER”, but upon closer inspection, he spotted something slightly more interesting. He stooped and examined a black, bubbling, swirling substance that had formed a small puddle on the ground beneath the bench. “Hmm, would you look at that then? Looks like potion residue to me. What do you think?” he asked her. “Ah, yes, parents indirectly asking about your sex life, sounds like fun,” she teased. Tonks leaned in, then, as Rhys spotted something. Her eyes scanned the inscription—a testament to the undying love of Ruby and Archibald seemed pretty innocuous, and though they were trained to over-analyze everything, if there was some coded Dark Arts message in here, it was lost on Tonks. The black goop was a lot more clear-cut, though. Tonks wrinkled her nose. “Either that’s some really dreadful pollution, or it’s probably from a potion,” she reasoned, “The report mentioned there had been a slew of unexplained explosions in the area, and one case of a Muggle’s clothes burning off like they were in acid...there’s a good number of potions that could do that.” Spoken like a pro. Rhys looked pleased. “Right, that’s what I was thinking,” he agreed, flashing a set of finger guns before he reached into his pocket and pulled out a camera and an evidence vial. He snapped a few pictures before carefully levitating the little pool of goop from the pier and putting it into the container for safekeeping. He pocketed it before standing again. “Shall we continue looking? Mystery slime is much more fun than thinking about my in-laws asking about my sex life,” Rhys said with a mock-shudder. Tonks grinned, “Also probably less horrifying, despite probable acid-like qualities.” More careful now with where she tread, Tonks kept her eyes trained on the ground, levitating and vialing anything that looked to be residue of a similar type. As she scanned the perimeter of the bench for more goop, Tonks discovered that Ruby and Archibald weren’t the only ones to have left a message. “Rhys, look,” Tonks called, then pointed at a bit of carving that said BURN MUGGLE SCUM. Although they were only words etched in a park bench, there was something volatile about it that sent a shiver down Tonks’ spine. Rhys examined the carving with an expression that was thoroughly unimpressed. He quickly snapped another picture—at least now they had some proof that the unexplained incidents in the area may have been intentional. “Charming,” he grumbled. “They think they're superior when they don't even know how to use proper punctu—” He was just about to search for fingerprints when he heard the faint creak of approaching footsteps. Rhys nodded toward what was formerly a quaint little fish and chips stand; it would be a good place to hide while they waited to see who had shown up. Within a few moments, they got their answer: a pair of dark-robed figures strode past them, carrying with them a large bushel of clear balloons that had the swirling black goop inside. As if that wasn't bad enough, both of them were wearing clown masks. “Oh, fuck no,” Rhys complained under his breath. Why did it have to be clowns? Tonks chewed on her lip as they waited and she contemplated the scene they’d found so far; the anti-Muggle rhetoric put a new spin on the whole thing. Was this all some sort of resurgence of a wannabe, neo-Death Eater movement? The incident at the World Cup had been even more reminiscent of days past with the appearance of the Dark Mark; so far, there’d been no report of one here, probably because these assailants were more on the wannabe side of things and didn’t know how to do one. “Ugh,” Tonks groaned, her face twisted in a look of disgust and anxiety as her eyes landed on the robed clowns. Even if they were only wannabes, Tonks had to agree with Rhys’ expletive that they were fucking creepy. “Alright. Hopefully they’re just teenagers who will be scared to shite once they see we’re Aurors, yeah? And that’ll be that,” she said, then dropped the illusionment charm over her robes; the red jacket she wore elongated into a pair of crimson Auror robes. With a nod to Rhys, she strode over to the creepy clown potioneers. “Surrender your wands, but do not release that balloon,” Tonks commanded, hoping this wouldn’t turn into a duel, but visibly gripping her wand all the same. “You are under arrest by the Ministry of Magic for Muggle endangerment and violation of the Statute of Secrecy.” The wannabe dark wizard clowns startled. The first one hesitated, but the second was cockier. “Oppugno!” he shouted, sending the balloons flying at the Aurors. One popped as it hit a lamp post, simultaneously melting it slightly and setting it alight. “That was stupid,” Rhys tsked at them, casting a shield charm that several of the balloons hit and exploded harmlessly in mid-air. Tonks clucked her tongue, “Resisting arrest, attacking Aurors...that’s two new charges in under a minute!” Glancing at Rhys, she raised her wand at one of the culprits, “I think it’s time to see who’s under here...plus, the masks are creeping me out,” Tonks suggested, then uttered, “Carpe Retractum.” A golden rope emerged from her wand, snaked its way up one of the clowns, and pulled the figure towards her. Once it was close enough, Tonks ripped the clown mask off and was thoroughly unimpressed to see the face of a boy just barely out of Hogwarts. “It was just a joke is all!” he began to whine immediately. Rhys followed suit, roping and unmasking the second clown in turn. Another young lad. Rhys sighed. “There’s nothing funny about terrorizing muggles and breaking the statute. You’re both in very serious trouble. You’re under arrest.” He’d begun to launch into reciting his Aurors’ cautions when the second boy began to plead. “We didn’t harm no-one! It was just a bit of fun!” “A Muggle woman had all her clothes burned off, and you’re lucky it wasn’t her skin,” Tonks said, disgust apparent in her tone, “I’d stop talking now if I were you, because what Auror Cadwallader was about to say was that you do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in front of the Wizengamot. Anything you do say may be given in evidence,” Tonks recited automatically, eyes narrowed at the culprits as she spoke. The boys, only now realising just how much trouble they were in, had fallen silent apart from the occasional whimper. Rhys took a deep breath; this had certainly been a slightly more eventful night than he’d anticipated, though they’d been fortunate enough to have been in the right place at the right time to remove a threat from the streets. “Nice work, Auror Tonks,” Rhys said with a small, congratulatory smile. “I think Auror Robards will consider this night a success.” “Thanks,” Tonks said, looking pleased—it had only been a few months since she’d completed her training, and she was eager to prove herself. Still, as she steered one of the Muggle-hating clowns to a discreet spot for them all to apparate, Tonks’ grin faded to a frown. Even if it had mostly just been an idiotic prank, the undertone was troubling. “There’s been a lot of this going on recently, hasn’t there?” she murmured to Rhys. “Since the World Cup. Mr. Weasley mentioned his department’s been dealing with loads of cursed Muggle artifacts, set like traps. I wonder...do you think it’s really just random?” Rhys’ own expression had grown weary. “I don’t believe much in random coincidences, I’m afraid,” he said gloomily. “It’s an unfortunate trend, but not entirely surprising. Wizards have never been the most progressive bunch.” “Me neither,” Tonks agreed, “It think we’ve got some right imitators among us trying to stir things up again,” she said, then shot their culprits a disdainful look as if they were single-handedly holding their society back from a brighter future. Tonks secured the now whimpering clown’s arm a little tighter, looking over her shoulder to see that they were reasonably obscured by the trees and shade. “Ready to go?” she asked Rhys. “Ready when you are,” he replied. “About time we put some of those imitators behind bars—shall we?” “Yes,” Tonks agreed, smirking as a pitiful sob emitted from one of them. “I think their mums will be most displeased—shame, that,” she said, and with a pop and a tugging whirl, Tonks side-along apparated straight to the Ministry. |