Harry stepped out of the train at Potters Bar and saw that it certainly was nothing special. A metal roof provided some protection from the elements and cold cathode lamps were hanging from its underside. An ugly brown building was the only remarkable parts of the station. Some of the brick buildings surrounding the station had fallen into despair, giving the whole area throughout uninviting vibe. Smog was hanging in the air, the smell of smoke strongly recognisable. The town itself did not look particularly inviting either. It was the same type of settlement with the same houses found everywhere in England and all of them looked perfectly normal. It was the degree of perfection Harry came to detest after growing up with the Dursleys. He was disappointed that his namesake town was so boring, so normal.
After watching the train leave and glancing at the clock, Harry concluded that Tonks had been right. Within a few stops, the train had gotten a significant delay and needed more than an hour for the short trip. Compared to the Hogwarts Express, the suburban train had made a concert of strange noises that probably came from the electric engines. Harry, who previously only experienced the huffing of a steam engine found them slightly unnerving but since everyone else was not concerned he figured out that everything was alright.
Between the usual commuters and the teenagers returning from various boarding schools, the wagon had been packed full but luckily he found his seat early. It had been hard and not entirely clean but it was a seat nonetheless. So while the kids caused a commotion that could rival the after-match parties in Gryffindor, Harry looked into the book that made a pureblood gush about the non-magical world, something he thought only Mr Weasley capable of. It turned out way more interesting than the material assigned at Hogwarts and if he would find some time during the summer maybe he'd continue reading although all the foreign names were really confusing. But first, he had to find Tonks or he would be stuck in a town he shared the name with.
This task turned out to be rather easy since the witch was once more sporting bubblegum pink hair and the same rather revealing outfit Harry last saw her in, slightly covered by a black leather jacket with metal studs all over it. A group of young men near the station building were trying to draw the metamorph's attention but she was casually leaning against a ticket machine at the end of the platform and waved at Harry to come over. As he closed the distance the Auror tapped her wand against one of the roofs grey support beams, which caused a small area to faintly glow yellow.
"Alright squirt, let's get you home," was all the warning he got before Tonks grabbed him into a bear hug. Due to their height difference Harry's face ended up pressed firmly between her breasts but before he could even get embarrassed the world began to spin and twist. The air was forced out of his lungs by a strong pressure seemingly coming from all sides. After what felt like an eternity but probably was only two seconds the unpleasant sensation stopped and Harry tumbled forwards, knocking over the Auror he was leaning onto. At the end of the strange journey, the Gryffindor seeker felt like he just spent the last hour going through Wood's evasion drills and been thoruougly hammered by Bludgers.
With his head still spinning Harry tried to sit up only to lose his balance.
"Ugh, what was that?"
"Side-along apparition. I forgot how unpleasant it was to cross wards this way otherwise I'd have dropped us at the front gate. And the wards didn't like the glamour so they ripped it off as well as the transfiguration on my clothes," Tonks explained before shaking her head clear. Her rather revealing outfit had been replaced by a black hoodie and matching sweatpants.
Only then Harry noticed that he was in fact no longer outside but in a room as large as his Hogwarts dorm. On the far side, a huge fireplace was taking up most of the wall while a tapestry of a red fox on forest green decorated the opposite side.
"Welcome to Tonks Hill," a woman's voice said from behind the duo on the rosewood floor. "Nymphadora, be a dear and let poor Harry go. You don't need to cradle him against your chest anymore."
This statement was rather confusing for him. The speaker sounded like she knew him while Harry was not remembering any previous interaction with the Tonks. And how did that related to being cradled into somebody's chest? Only after a moment of thought, Harry realised that he was still laying on top of the witches' tits and did his best to change this by rolling over to his right. That manoeuvre put him face to face with a tall woman. Dark brown curls cascaded down on both sides of her porcelain-skinned face. Her sharp jawline and the way she carried herself gave the witch an aristocratic appearance. Her dark blue tracksuit, however, completely destroyed that image. A warm smile divided her full lips, revealing immaculate, snow white teeth. Her purple eyes watered slightly as she kept staring at him with an unreadable expression.
"Harry, you probably don't remember me but I'm your aunt, Andromeda. It's been a long time since I last saw you," the witch said tenderly as if she was afraid to break something.
"We've met before?" he asked in confusion. The only aunt he was aware of was Petunia and Dumbledore told him on more than one occasion that he had no further living relatives.
"I babysat you at least a dozen times... You loved Nymphadora's hair to the point where you'd try to grab it every time you got the chance... After that horrible night, I tried to get custody but the judges in the Wizengamot argued that if I couldn't find you, you were safely hidden. I have to admit that I gave up after two years," Andromeda said with both sadness and bitterness leaking into her voice.
"I really don't remember anything before Halloween. And Halloween only due to the dementors," Harry replied meekly.
"Your trunk is in your room upstairs. There's a bathroom across the floor. Nymphadora's room is right across yours. I'll give you the whole tour tomorrow," the older witch abruptly changed the topic.
"My room?"
"Well, you're staying with us for the summer so of course, you get a room. I already put your stuff in there. Or did you expect to sleep in the outhouse?" Tonks joked, oblivious to the reasons why Harry asked.
"Of course you are welcome to come here whenever you want to. We have more than enough rooms," her mother added.
"I… thank you," Harry mumbled, looking on the floor and missing the two witches exchanging worried glances. Those strangers already showed him more kindness in two minutes than the Dursleys did in twelve years.
"Well, how about supper and then we can talk a little?" Andromeda suggested.
"I always wanted to know why you got that many points at the end of my last year," Tonks eagerly threw in.
Walking through a redwood door and another one made from blackwood Harry found himself in a dining room with enough space for at least ten people. The table in the centre of it however only had four chairs.
Once he was seated Andromeda tapped the dark green tablecloth and countless bowls of food appeared out of thin air, much like at Hogwarts. From salad over baked potatoes and garlic bread up to roast beef and sausages, everything was present. Compared to the meals at Hogwarts or the Burrow, a lot less English food was served. Instead many dishes from what looked like the Mediterranean cuisine were part of the buffet. Harry, who, thanks to the Dursleys, never had tried pasta, eagerly piled some on his plate before realising that this feast was far too much for three people.
"Is someone else coming for dinner?"
"No, mum just likes to cook and dad loves Italian food. She always makes about ten servings and puts them into these bowls. They keep food exactly like it was when you put it in for, well we never tried to find out but at least two years. That way you always can choose what you want. But don't worry, nothing here is older than a week. Uncle Sirius made sure of that," Tonks explained.
"Actually while I like cooking it is not something I'd want to do every day. So I make a large amount once every two weeks and then I'm done with it," Andromeda added.
"Where's Sirius anyways? I thought he'd be here?"
"He's in what's nowadays called Croatia. He was in desperate need of a mind healer after twelve years in Azkaban and another one spent as a dog. Since there are only fourteen certified mind healers in Britain and they all work at St. Mungo's, I had to contact an old acquaintance abroad. It'll take some time to fix him up though. There are not many people who would treat an escaped prisoner, even if you are willing to pay a lot of gold so he has to make do with who is available, not with who is the best."
"Will I see him this summer?" Harry asked. While he did not spend much time with Sirius he still was the first adult who cared about him. And if not for Sirius he'd be slaving at Privet Drive right now.
"Sadly no. He could be back by Christmas but I think Easter or the next summer are better guesses," Andromeda replied sadly. "If it was only some psychological trauma he could visit from time to time or even find someone in Britain, but he suffered brain damage from everything he went through. Dementors are not gentle when they pillage through your brain. Sirius needs to take more than a dozen potions each day and while I'm a certified healer my knowledge about head injuries boils down to detecting them and fetching a mind healer."
"Can we visit?"
"I am not sure. He'll be unconscious for most of the treatment so he might spend the next three months in an induced coma while the potions do their magic," the older witch said, omitting that Croatia was in the middle of a civil war. While the remote Black holiday home Sirius was currently being treated in was safe, the same could not be said for other parts of the country.
The conversation stayed on light topics after that. Tonks told stories about the life in Hufflepuff and their shenanigans but compared to Leanne's narrative there was much more Firewhiskey and fooling around involved. They agreed on one thing, however. The Badgers loved Quidditch and pickup games were played every weekend if the weather allowed it.
"I played on the house team for two years, was chaser during my fourth and beater in my sixth. I'm no natural flyer but it's been enough to win five out of six games. Didn't win the house cup though," the metamorph explained.
"How can you win five out of six and still miss the house cup?" Harry wanted to know.
"We didn't score enough. Winning 160 to 140 does little for your overall standing. And Slytherin loves to prolong games so they can score like mad against the other Houses."
"Oh, makes sense... Why did you leave the team twice?"
"Fifth and seventh are OWL and NEWT years. I like Quidditch and I still played the occasional game but since I wanted to become an Auror, I needed to put some serious effort into it. It's difficult to study if the captain wakes you at 5 am and the practice is not over before noon."
"How is being an Auror?" Harry asked. Hogwarts only offered career advice during the fifth year and he had not grown up in the magical world. Therefore there was little he knew about life after Hogwarts.
"Since I just graduated from the Academy I am stuck with the occasional odd job until September. The Academy, however, was absolutely brutal. Wake-up call at 6, various exercises until noon and then theory until the evening. And then there were Mad Eye's special classes…"
"Who is Mad-Eye?" Harry interrupted.
"Famous Auror. Fled from Czechoslovakia during the early forties and joined the Hit Wizards to fight Grindelwald. Became an Auror afterwards. Got his name from a magical eye after losing his own in '73. Out of 105 Death Eaters sitting in Azkaban, he caught 47. Killed at least twice as much of them but always tried to get the inner circle alive to interrogate them. He retired from active duty in '86 and had been teaching at the Academy until this year."
"Why was he giving special classes?" Harry asked, genuinely curious about the Auror veteran.
"If he saw someone with potential, he singled them out and gave them very intense personal training. Amelia Bones, the Head of the DMLE, Head Auror Hammer and Kingsley Shacklebolt, my soon-to-be boss, all went through his tutelage, although not at the Academy."
"People also call him Mad-Eye because he's excessively paranoid. Sees enemies behind every corner, only drinks from his private bottle and checks every dish for poison," Andromeda added.
"Well, every year there's at least one attempt on his life so he's not just paranoid," Tonks defended her mentor with obvious pride.
"Where do you work Mrs Tonks?" Harry asked, hoping that she was not a housewife and he had put a foot in his mouth.
"It's Andi or Andromeda if you must be formal and I work Comet Broomstick Company. I got in through an internship after my OWLs as a medi-witch. Mainly I was patching up all the test pilots that manage to crash their brooms but now I'm working in development. I also met Edward there," the older witch explained with a hint of pride.
"Edward, or Ted, is my dad, he works in legal there and is usually stuck with paperwork... Although he should be home soon," Tonks added quickly.
"How did you go from the infirmary to developing new brooms?" Harry wanted to know. He knew a lot about the different broom models and their features, but not how exactly they worked or were produced.
"Well, I was taking care of a developer who had been too eager to try out his newest design and he was complaining about the set of runes he used for the prototype. I asked if I could take a look and he just rolled his eyes but decided to humour me anyways since he was not going anywhere. It was not difficult to find the problem and while I was unable to come up with a fix that still impressed him. Two days later the Head of Development ask me if I want to work for him and so I ended up there. I still do the occasional shift in the infirmary when the other healers are sick or enjoying their holidays."
"How is a broom made?" Harry wanted to know. He had read a lot about brooms but their making was never explained in detail. Just that it was a very delicate process.
"Well, there are two main steps. First, all components, like the handle and the twigs, are enchanted by carving runes into them before coating them with a special paint that conduits the magic of the user. Then there are people who assemble the parts into the brooms you know. I can show you around at work next week if you want," Andromeda offered.
"I'd like that," he replied quietly just as he finished his second helping of Lasagna. The Hogwarts food was good but at the same time not very diverse. Harry couldn't remember if there had been a single salad served during the three years he spent in the magical castle. The dishes in front of him, however, offered a variety of tastes that he didn't even know exist. On the rare occasion that the Dursleys ate some foreign dish, they made sure that Harry had gotten none. He was after all a freak and didn't deserve it. Thus Harry ended up eating far more than he usually would, savouring the new flavours and spices.
Mrs Tonks already finished her meal and mirthfully watched as her daughter sculpted some of her rice to look like the triangular fortress of Azkaban. Her smile turned into a snort when the younger witch flooded her plate with chocolate sauce before dropping applesauce onto the remains and tucked in with unmatched gusto.
"What's so funny?" Harry asked, unaware of the whole byplay. While certainly friendly the atmosphere in the kitchen was still rather reserved as he was still getting to know his newfound relatives.
"My daughter just proves once more that she is five and has an unmatched sweet tooth. Don't worry about it, she's always like this," Andromeda replied while the metamorph pouted before sticking her chocolate clad tongue out.
The dinner concluded soon after and Harry was ushered into the sitting room. Taking a look around, Harry immediately noticed the dark red settee, large enough for five people in front of a small table made of walnut wood. Two armchairs were placed left and right of it, forming a half circle which was complemented by two footrests. The whole furniture arrangement faced a television set that, while unable to match Dudley's large screen, was still above average. The floor and walls were covered by reddish chestnut panels, giving the room a warm and cosy but also gloomy atmosphere. Several cabinets were lined up along the walls, filled with books and pictures. To Harry's surprise, electrical lamps were hanging from the ceiling. Considering the telly, the use of electricity should not have been unexpected.
"Take a seat Harry," Andromeda instructed. At the same moment, her daughter tried to get on the sofa by sliding over the armrest. Unfortunately for her she miscalculated her momentum and ended up overshooting her target and landed on the tufted carpet.
"Bugger," the metamorph groaned before pulling herself up onto the sofa.
"Nymphadora, what did I tell you about jumping over furniture?"
"Mum, don't use that name."
"You still need to come up with an alternative."
"I have a perfectly acceptable middle name. You should know since you gave it to me. But since you were high on pain relief potions you decided to choose Nymphadora as my first name," she pouted. It was an argument that they had at least once each month and it ended always the same. Edward noted more than once that it was simply a game that made only sense for them but still laughed at the antics of his daughter and his wife.
"I was not high on potions. You just didn't look like a Lyra," Andromeda pointed out and Harry guessed that was the middle name they were talking about.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well, lyres are harmonious, something you most certainly are not. Before I could name you, you managed to knock off the healer's glasses and shifted your hair from black to green before settling on purple."
"Can't you simply call me dear, like dad?"
"Your father calls you Nimmy most of the time."
"Muuummm!"
"You know it's the truth. I try not to use your name but unlike you, I happened to like it."
"Fine," the metamorph grumbled.
"What am I supposed to call you?" Harry asked. Considering that he would be living with three of them a simple "Tonks" wouldn't work.
"Don't even think about it," Andromeda said firmly as she spotted the mischievous glint in her daughter's eyes.
"What?"
"You were trying to come up with something highly inappropriate like hot stuff or worse."
"Mum!"
"Don't mum me, young lady, I know it is my family that you got your craziness from."
During the entire exchange, Harry sat there and felt like he was missing something obvious. Luckily his aunt prevented an awkward silence when she presented a solution for his initial problem.
"You know Harry, the last time you saw her you called my daughter Dora, or as you said it back then, Do'a. And she liked it. Granted, you were one and seven but still, she did not complain about that particular nickname."
"Muuummm!" said witch whined when childhood stories of her were mentioned. These stories were particularly embarrassing because they usually involved a lack of clothing, whether accidental due to her clumsiness or deliberate because she happened to dislike the chosen outfit. There were only a few things that the usually confident woman disliked more than her childhood stories.
"We have pictures of that day around here somewhere. There's also one where you and Nymphadora are playing outside…"
"Please, not that one. Have some mercy on poor old me," Dora plead in an overly dramatic fashion but her mother was relentless. With a flick of her wand, a picture frame soared through the air, followed by three more. In an attempt of damage control, the metamorph sat down next to Harry and hoped that she could prevent any highly embarrassing stories.
The first picture was taken during the Christmas season. It showed a room in winter decorations. The entire ceiling was covered in ice, a Celtic knot among other patterns engraved in the middle of it. Magical snow was falling slowly, disappearing before it reached anyone. In between the flakes, a mistletoe was hovering over two women. One of them was easily recognisable as his mother while the other one was a younger looking Andromeda who smiled mischievously before kissing the redhead full on the lips. The kiss lasted only a second before both started giggling rather violently. In the background, James Potter was staring slack-jawed at the two witches until he dropped his wand. That, however, caused the mistletoe to drop on the two women before the picture reset. Only during the third loop, Harry noticed that a small baby and a young purple haired girl sleeping on armchairs, completely unaware of the scene in front of them.
"That was New Year 1981 at Godric's Hollow. Ed took the picture when your dad thought that he came up with the perfect prank. Your mum did all the decorating, charming the ceiling and the Christmas tree. She had been truly gifted and was working on her mastery."
"How well did you know my parents?" Harry wanted to know.
"Well, your grandmother was my aunt so I knew your father since I can remember. After I turned sixteen I practically lived at Potter Manor until I eloped. I met Lily in her second year when I tutored her in transfiguration. That must have been my sixth year. Your mother had pretty much the same problem I had with the subject. We both failed to see why we were learning transfiguration," Andromeda said with a nostalgic smile and chuckled at a memory. "Sure, changing stuff into something different is fascinating, but it is not really useful if you think about it. You can do nearly every household task with charms, from chopping vegetables to cleaning. Animation, summoning, levitation, that's all useful. But there are only a few uses for transfiguration. And unless you are on mastery level it's not even practical in a duel because it's just too slow. Dumbledore can turn a pile of garbage into an army but the average wizard is cut down before he can finish his first spell."
"So why are we learning it?" Harry asked. For him, transfiguration was a fun subject, although a difficult one. At least when they were not going over some theory for hours.
"Because there are two related disciplines that are useful. Conjuration and vanishing. They are difficult however and in order to learn them, you need to understand the basics of transfiguration the same way you learn how to fly before learning corkscrew dives," Andromeda unknowingly recited the explanation she had given many years ago.
"That makes some sense I guess."
"You are not satisfied with this answer?"
"Not really. I mean, there's so much magic and we learn so little at Hogwarts."
"Hogwarts is there to teach you the basics. It's more about how you use magic safely and not about individual spells. If you want something specific like, let's say a knitting charm you have the entire library at your disposal. Or you can ask a teacher. Flitwick is always willing to help and old Slughorn knew a guy for everything, from help with transfiguration up to buying enchanted anti-tank weapons."
Harry wasn't sure if the last remark was a joke or not but he got the core message. Hogwarts was just the foundation. If he wanted to know more about magic he'd have to learn it alone. Whether it was wise to trust a bunch of kids to do extracurricular work in order to be more than a pitiful excuse for a wizard was questionable at best, but not entirely unsurprising. After all, they had to choose electives without as much as a pamphlet about the courses and their career opportunities. And judging by the size of the Divination class, that gamble was not working out well.
"Anyways, we got a bit off topic here. I wanted to show you this one. It also explains what I said earlier," Andromeda said and gave Harry a different frame with the same pictures. Then she tapped the top of the frame with her wand and the wintery cottage was replaced by a sunny garden. In the middle of the picture a blue and yellow inflated swimming pool. Running around it was a wobbly legged toddler which Harry presumed was him chasing a naked girl around the age of seven or eight. The girl with a blue mop on her head suddenly stopped and lifted him into the air, both of them happily laughing while Andromeda was watching them from a garden chair, a book in her lap. In the background his parents were playing badminton, using a floating rope as an improvised net.
Seeing these pictures made Harry feel strangely fuzzy in his stomach. It was the first time he actually saw his family together. Thanks to Hagrid he had a couple of photographs from his parents' school time, but the most recent one was taken during their wedding and none showed him. The pictures also proved that the Dursleys had been lying to him when they said that nobody wanted him. Finally having solid proof was a great relief for him.
Harry felt something warm on his cheek but needed a moment to realise that it was, in fact, a tear. Strong arms came around him, pulling the young wizard back until his head rested on his cousin's shoulder.
Being held tightly reinforced the warm feeling but also made it difficult to maintain control over his body. It was only a small gesture but when the metamorph began stroking her fingers through his hair it was enough to bring down the emotional walls Harry had erected to protect himself at Number Four. His resolve crumbled and the happiness was overshadowed by a deep wave of sadness. Because for the first time he actually felt like he was part of a family. For the first time, he had evidence that he had been part of one. And for the first time, Harry realised how much he had lost during that fateful Halloween night nearly thirteen years ago. He could have grown up happily, without his cupboard, endless work and Harry Hunting. And once the floodgates were opened there was no stopping it.
Lost to his own world Harry didn't even think about the fact that he was clinging to someone he barely knew. With the tears now flowing freely, he burrowed himself in the crook of Tonks' neck and cried until he was drained of both anguish and energy. No more tears would come and he felt utterly exhausted. For the first time, he could remember someone had been there when he had been overwhelmed by emotions. Throughout his breakdown, she kept stroking his head and began humming a tune only known to her.
It was at this point that Nymphadora Tonks connected the dots. The scars on his arms and his strong reaction to the slightest bit of familiar love only lead to one ugly conclusion. She silently vowed to do anything she could to help her cousin. To help him heal, to protect him and to be part of the family he desperately longed for.
Tired after a five hundred mile journey and emotionally spent Harry fell asleep on the living room couch using the metamorph as a pillow.