This is the first time I've tried this, so please go easy on me!

Tonks' POV for now, but we'll see how it goes. Sorry this is a bit of a slow one, it'll get better I promise!

Enjoy! Reviews would be really appreciated. :)


Chapter One - 24th June, 1995

It was a still and peaceful night, quiet except for the distant sound of muggle traffic and the quiet hum of business from the kebab shop three floors down. The small flat was silent; it's only resident soundly sleeping after what had been one of the most peculiar days she'd ever had.


Work had been stressful from the start – before the news of the day's events had even gotten out, Tonks was falling dangerously far behind with her paperwork. She had planned on knuckling down and getting as much done as possible, but the constant interruptions became too much and she eventually gave in to her colleagues and joined them, late afternoon, in Williamson's cubicle. Four of them, Tonks, Proudfoot, Williamson and Savage, then spent the next few hours listening eagerly to the Wizarding Wireless Network's coverage of the final task of the Tri-wizard Tournament.

"Nothing this exciting ever happened when we were at school," Tonks had grumbled, kicking her feet up on the desk and ignoring the disapproving looks it earned her.

"Must feel like yesterday to you eh, Tonks? Heck, you were probably still there when little Potter started his first year," Proudfoot mused, the patronising tone clear in his voice. Tonks shot him a dark look but didn't bother correcting him – she'd learnt from experience it did no good to rise to his goading.

The commentary had gotten dull as the champions worked their way through the maze, which had led to conversation striking up between the four colleagues. Although none of them were as nightmarish to work with as Dawlish, Tonks soon realised she had nothing in common with the three men, and found herself with very little to say. Before too long, however, the wireless interrupted them with an explosion of noise as the commentator announced Potter's victory. The cheering and singing faltered, however, and were replaced with distinct sounds of horror and distress.

It was as if the auror headquarters had suddenly come to life, and as the commentator went on to describe the tragedy of Diggory's death, Dawlish appeared at Williamson's cubicle and, after casting a disapproving glance at the four obviously slacking from their work, instructed that they all follow him to Scrimgeour's office. The commentator continued describing the event, and as the four of them filed out of the cubicle, a snippet of what he was saying caught Tonks' attention. Her eyes widened in shock – surely Potter wasn't claiming that Voldemort had returned and killed the Diggory boy? She felt a brief pang of grief for Cedric's death as she recalled that they used to play quidditch together - he had been made seeker in her last year of school - but quickly forced herself to focus on the more important matters at hand.

The meeting had lasted well over two hours, and as it drew to a close most of the aurors were grumbling about being kept so late. Tonks, on the other hand, was feeling outraged for a different reason. The more she had thought about it, the more Potter's claims started to make sense, and, after all, why would a kid like him want to draw more attention to himself by making something up like that up? She'd spoken up at one point and voiced her opinion, which had resulted in several dirty looks along with stern words from Scrimgeour.

"Nymphadora," he had started, twisting her name in a way that made it sound like an insult, "The minister himself was present at the scene of Diggory's death. He has assured me on good ground that there is no sign that You-Know-Who has risen, or that any of his followers were present today. Are you disputing his word, and therefor the word of the ministry itself?"

Tonks had had to bite back the retort that had been on the tip of her tongue.

"No, sir," she'd replied through clenched teeth, before sitting back in her chair and folding her arms.

It was all bollocks, she thought to herself wryly. What came as even more of a shock was the news that Alastor Moody, who had been mentor to her throughout her years of auror training, hadn't been teaching at Hogwarts all year as they had been believed, but had been kept prisoner in his own trunk whilst Barty Crouch Jr. impersonated him all year.

It was too much of a coincidence, Tonks decided, that a known ex-Death Eater had chosen to overpower Mad-Eye Moody, one of the most vigilant and accomplished wizards she had ever known, the same year that Potter had somehow been entered into the tournament that he now claims led him straight into Voldermort's path. She shook her head, and allowed her thoughts to turn to Mad-Eyes wellbeing.

As soon as the meeting was dismissed, she'd left the ministry and apparated straight into Hogsmede, where she made her way towards the looming castle as she knew it was where she would find him. As deep in her thoughts as she had been the past few hours, she hadn't noticed how the eyes of Kingsley Shacklebolt had bored into her through the majority of the meeting in a way that, had she been paying attention, she would surely have found very uncomfortable.

It wasn't the first time she'd been back at Hogwarts since she'd left, but it was a strange feeling all the same. A strong sense of nostalgia hit her as she passed the great hall, and as she made her way towards the Hospital Wing she realised a feeling of home surrounded her back in this place. She did notice the school seemed very quiet, but of course that was to be expected following the tragic day that had passed. She didn't encounter anyone on her journey, and it wasn't until she arrived at her destination that she saw any sign of life at all.

Minerva McGonagall was deep in conversation with Madam Pomfrey as Tonks approached, but as soon as they noticed her they stopped speaking and turned to face her. McGonagall greeted her with a small smile, which Tonks returned before pulling her old teacher into a hug. It was probably unprofessional of her, but Tonks couldn't shake the nostalgia she was feeling and it seemed natural to greet one of her favourite teachers in this way. When they broke apart, McGonagall was smiling properly, and stood back to admire Tonks' robes.

"Congratulations on becoming an auror, Nymphadora," she smiled, ignoring Tonks' grimace at the use of her first name, "I know my congratulations is belated but it truly is a pleasure to see how far you have come. You should be proud of yourself."

"Wow, professor, thank you," Tonks beamed, taken aback by the unexpected and heartfelt praise from the teacher who always disapproved of her mischievous ways.

"You are aware, I'm sure, that I am no longer your professor. You need no longer address me as such" McGonagall replied warmly, as Tonks found herself being embraced by a chuckling Madam Pomfrey.

"I'll stop calling you professor when you stop calling me Nymphadora," Tonks winked, with a cheek that few would dare use when addressing Minerva McGonagall. However her old teacher merely smiled and shook her head, muttering something that sounded vaguely like "they never change."

With a smile, Tonks turned to Madam Pomfrey.

"Can I see him? Mad-Eye, I mean," Tonks asked, realising neither women had asked her why she was there. They must have assumed.

"Oh of course, dear," the matron smiled, excusing herself quickly from McGonagall, and led the way to the ex-aurors hospital bed. "He's still very weak though, don't get him all pepped up. I can only allow fifteen minutes I'm afraid."

Tonks nodded absentmindedly, thinking back to all the times she herself had ended up in the very same ward. There were definitely too many occasions to keep track of – pranks gone wrong, bludgers to the head, not to mention all the times she'd ended up getting hurt thanks to her own clumsiness. She chuckled softly at the memories, but the smile was wiped clean off her face at the sight of her old mentor, lay flat out in a loose-fitting hospital gown looking more withered and fragile than she ever could have imagined.

Taking a seat in the chair next to his head, Tonks swallowed hard before reaching for the old man's hand. He stirred slightly, and she swallowed again.

"Wotcher, Mad-Eye," she said softly, giving his scarred hand a squeeze.

His magical eye whirled in his skull, finding her, and slowly his normal eye opened too.

"What're you doing here, lass?" He asked gruffly, struggling to sit up.

She stood up quickly to help him re-arrange his pillows, but he batted her away, heaving himself to a sitting position. She forced a smile on her face and morphed some colour back into her cheeks, as she was sure the sight of him had made her go pale.

"Looking out for you, of course," she grinned, sitting back down. "Someone's got to stay constantly vigilant; it seems you've given up that motto," she winked, chuckling half at her own joke and half at the absurdity of the situation.

He grunted in response, looking past her out the window on the opposite side of the ward. Tonks shifted uncomfortably in her seat, trying to find something to say. It had never been hard to make conversation with Mad-Eye, and she was never shy of cracking jokes at his expense, but she didn't know how to approach this new, weak version of the man she'd come to know. As strange as it sounded, even to herself, she had to admit she'd grown a bond with the scarred ex-auror. He was like a father to her, and truthfully it scared her that someone as reliable and sturdy as him could get himself into a state like this.

"What have they told you? At work?" He asked suddenly, bringing her out of her thoughts.

She told him about Scrimgeours meeting, how she had been reprimanded her for voicing her opinion, and how the rest of the office seemed to go along with it all. He grunted, not seeming surprised, but his magical eye seemed to be searching her face in the same way she'd have noticed that Shacklebolt's had been earlier, had she have been paying attention. She noticed this time, however, and it was unnerving.

"Cut it out, Mad-Eye," she frowned, nodding towards the magical eye that was still focused on her face.

He apologised gruffly, sent the eye spinning in the other direction, and went back to staring out the window.

Tonks couldn't think of anything else to say, so she stood up to leave. Mad-Eye turned, fixing both eyes on her this time, and studied her for an uncomfortable moment before speaking.

"Do you believe him?" He shot at her, the magical eye seeming to bore straight into her soul.

"Who? Fudge?" Tonks asked incredulously, to which Moody nodded. "Of course not! He's off his bloody rocker, that one, denying what's happened right in front of his nose!"

She bit her tongue, wondering if she'd said too much. Mad-Eye no longer worked for the ministry, but maybe this was a test.

"But of course, what Scrimgeour says goes. Who am I to question it?" She added quickly, hoping this somehow rectified her outburst regarding Fudge's stupidity.

After another slightly uncomfortable moment, Mad-Eye grunted approvingly at her, before looking away again. Just at that moment, Madam Pomfrey appeared again and ushered Tonks away to leave him to get his rest.

After a quick goodbye, Tonks left the castle, suddenly realising how exhausted she the day had left her. She apparated back to her flat and fell straight into bed, fully clothed, not noticing the little owl that was perched on her windowsill or the small envelope that was tied to its leg.


With a start, she sat bolt upright, glad to have woken from the disturbing dream she'd been having. She'd been locked in the bottom of Mad-Eye's trunk for what felt like days, with no-one helping her and no feasible escape. She shuddered at the thought of what Mad-Eye must have gone through, and tried to take her mind off the dream by searching for what had woken her up so suddenly.

A small owl was fluttering around her bedroom, hooting for her attention, and she sighed before getting out of bed and taking the parchment from its foot. A glance at the clock told her it was only 1am; she had barely been asleep for two hours. With a resigned sigh, she made her way over to the flat's dingy kitchen and put the kettle on, flipping lights on with her wand as she went.

The envelope was addressed to her, in a small untidy scrawl that she vaguely recognised, though she couldn't think where from. She tore it open rather shoddily, and pulled a small piece of parchment out from inside it.

The message was brief, and she had to read it twice to make sure she hadn't read it wrong.

Nymphadora Tonks,

Your presence is urgently requested at the home of one, Arthur Weasley.
I apologise for the short notice, everything will be explained upon your arrival.
If you could floo to The Burrow as soon as you receive this, I would be very grateful.

Regards,

Kingsley Shacklebolt

She blinked at the parchment in front of her, utterly confused. She recognised Weasley's name as a ministry employee, but she was sure they'd never spoken. As for Shacklebolt, they worked together on a day to day basis but he'd never invited her to spend time with him outside of the office. Was this some sort of twisted chat up line?

She shook her head. The letter was far too formal to be a friendly gathering, and at one in the morning? Something didn't add up.

She considered ignoring the note all together and going back to bed, but with a deep sigh she knew curiosity would win her over eventually anyway. She stood in front of the mirror in her living room, morphed her hair a bright turquoise and darkened her eyes a little, before gathering up a handful of floo powder.

Still fully dressed in yesterday's clothes, she shook her head at what she was about to do, before stepping into the green flames, uttering the words "The Burrow", and feeling herself fall into the unknown.

To be continued...