Patronuses and Imperiuses
The interview had been a breeze. She was likely the most eloquent in expressing her desire to become an Auror. Of course, the deal had been truly sealed when she had turned herself into Albus Dumbledore midway through the interview (he'd been chosen for the respect that the interviewers were bound to have for him. No one could turn down their former Headmaster – could they?).
So it was natural that she received a letter from the Ministry informing that she had qualified for Auror Training, and was to report to the Ministry of Magic on the second day of 1992 for her first day of work. She had, of course, no idea how difficult it was truly going to be.
Oh no, she knew how dangerous a profession being an Auror was, knew that it was truly a matter of life and death out there in the field, that the civilians' safety came before hers did, and that it was an honour to give up her life protecting the innocent.
What she wasn't well aware of, however, was how difficult it would be to even get to that life-and-death scenario. Especially, if your mentor was one of the best in his field.
She wore her hair pitch-black and bunned up for her very first day, and she and the only other Auror-in-Training (the intake was always small, apparently they were lucky to even have a batch mate) had quite pleasant time touring the ministry. They were even graced with the presence of the Minister, Mr Cornelius Fudge, who shook their hands heartily and called them mighty fine people.
And then came the Meet-the-Mentor session.
They were told to proceed to respective small rooms right outside the Department of Mysteries. She and the other Auror-in-Training smiled at each other and he entered his own room, but when she put her hand on the doorknob, she whipped it right back.
It was freezing, and there was an odd chill that settled on her. Cautiously, she opened the door, and poked her head in. The reason for the cold became clear.
There was a Dementor in the far side of the room.
She reached for her wand and stepped back.
"Um, excuse me," she called out towards the sickeningly empty corridor, her voice wavery. "There's a Dementor in here –" She turned around to face the Dementor again, and gasped – it was heading straight for her. "Expecto patronum!" she yelled, and a silver jackrabbit erupted from her wand, charging – as much as a rabbit could charge, anyway – towards the perpetrator, who drew back towards the corner and stayed there, trapped by her Patronus.
"Not bad at all," said a gruff voice, and she poked her head into the room to see the most famous Auror of all time, arms crossed and magical eyeball keeping an eye on the Dementor while his good eye was fixed on her.
"You set this Dementor on me?" she cried, not caring that it was Alastor Moody that was standing before her.
"In the line of work as an Auror, girl, you have to be prepared for things like that," the grizzled old man said carelessly, limping towards the table, his wooden leg clunking against the paneled floor, and then sat down on a chair. "Take a seat."
"Here, with that thing?" Dora said incredulously, wondering if her mentor was a little strange in the head.
"You've got your Patronus out, so what's there to be worried about?" Moody said with a shrug. "Constant vigilance is all you have to be concerned with. You think that if there weren't any Dementors here, a Lethifold can't creep in beneath the door?"
"You'd have to be sleeping," Dora pointed out.
Moody looked unwillingly impressed. "The point is, girl, that you can't wait for things to in sight before you get antsy about them. As long as you keep an eye of that Dementor, it can't do anything. Anyway, Regulation and Control will be coming by to pick up this chap soon; I said I'd be borrowing it only for a while."
She warily approached the table, casting glances at creature in the corner. Her Patronus twitched its nose at her, as if assuring her that it would take care of the vermin. Waving her wand, she pulled out a chair and spun it around so that she could see Moody and keep the Dementor in her peripheral vision.
"So. Nymphadora Tonks, is it?" Moody said, his blue eye now examining her while his brown one kept watch on the creature.
"Tonks, please," Dora said quickly. She knew from experience that when an opportunity came to stake a name, you had to use it well or it would be gone forever (several of her schoolmates, who had suffered a variety of hexes for calling her "Nymphy," would have begged to differ. All called her by her surname ever since that fateful afternoon). "Sir," she added quickly.
Moody waved her aside. "None of this 'sir' business," he said. "I'm your mentor, but we are colleagues. We're not equal, which means you still have to do what I tell you to do, but you can call me Alastor, or Moody, or – "
"Mad-eye?" Dora suggested.
Moody fixed her with a glare, and she held her breath, wondering if she had gone a little too far. "Or Mad-Eye," he finally conceded, and Dora beamed.
"So, what's the programme like?" she asked.
"Things are pretty quiet for now," Moody said, "so I'll be able to spend more time mentoring you." He took out a scroll of parchment from his cloak and handed it to her. "This is the syllabus."
She unfurled it, barely catching sight of "Concealment and Disguise" and "Stealth and Tracking" before Moody continued, "But I like to do some things my own way. Our first practice will be on the Unforgiveable Curses."
"The what?" Dora said, sure that she must have misheard him.
But before he could say another word, someone knocked on the door.
"Enter!" Moody called.
The door swung open and a man poked his head in.
"Mad-eye, you done with that Dementor yet?"
"Constant vigilance!" Moody barked, and Dora jumped.
"What!" she said.
"Always keep your eyes on the adversary," Moody said, jerking his staff in the Dementor's direction.
"Yes, but we don't all have strabismus," Dora grumbled, but she stared at the Dementor. "What if he had been an adversary?" She jabbed in the direction of the Regulation and Control worker, who had conjured a Patronus and was leading the Dementor out.
"Then you put yourself in a spot where you can see both, or you incapacitate one very quickly so you can focus on the other," Moody growled.
When the door shut behind the man and the Dementor, she asked, "Well, what's next, then? Lethifolds?" She turned to look at Moody, only to realise with some shock that he had his wand pointed at her. She flung her wand out, but her nonverbal Disarming spell came too late.
"Imperio," he said calmly.
Dora's internal scream of bloody murder petered out as absolute calm enveloped her. It felt rather like the feeling she got when she woke up early on a Saturday morning in her four-poster bed at Hogwarts, only to realise that she had a few hours more to sleep in.
And then came Moody's voice.
It was still gruff, but in her Imperiused state, it had taken on a dreamlike quality and seemed almost gentle.
Set this room on fire, he said.
Dora directed her wand at the floor – the wood, she thought dreamily, would help the fire catch. "Incen – " she began, and then paused.
Go on, urged Moody.
"In – "
NO! yelled a voice in her head, and she paused, confused, her wand wavering. Snap out of it, Dora, the voice said. You don't have to do this.
You MUST, said Moody.
No, no, said the voice. NO!
And it was only when the curse was gone did she realise that she had yelled the last "no" aloud.
"What in the name of Merlin, Mad-Eye?!" she fumed, once she'd gotten her bearings and checked that there were no flames in the room. "Did you know how dangerous that was? And you gave me no warning at all?!"
"You won't get any warning in real life, and what did I say? CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he roared, and she jumped. "But good work," he said gruffly. "Not many can throw off an Imperius curse on their first attempt."
"Yeah, well, today's your lucky day," she said, sitting down. Throwing off the curse seemed to have weakened her. "What were you going to do if I did set the room on fire?"
"What do they teach in Hogwarts these days?" Moody said, and in the next moment, she was hit in the face by a spray of water.
Moody had performed a nonverbal Aguamenti.
"Do you hope that someday, I'll find all this funny?" she spluttered, wringing her hair dry. "Because I never will, Mad-Eye. Not till my dying day, and maybe not even then."
"Ready?" Moody said, conveniently ignoring her. "Let's do the Imperius curse again. This time, throw it off faster."
"Can't we just have another Dementor?" she begged.
And Moody broke into the world's tiniest grin.
A/N: Hope you've enjoyed reading that! If you've any feedback, please do leave a small message :3