PART II
20
Tonks drew in a sharp breath that pained her lungs as the tall, towering form of her husband stepped from the shadows of the entryways and into the visitors' lobby, stealing her breath and the very heat from her skin, with that young Muggle girl from Echo Alley, trailing nervously alongside Remus, baby Teddy cradled in her arms, and a look of shock intermingled with abject horror and confusion as she witnessed the two-week-old baby's hair rapidly change color.
Dressing today in a pair of skinny blue jeans, black ballet flats, and a white zip-up fleece-lined hoodie, Renee Barreau was looking remarkably better for wear than the last time that Tonks had laid eyes on the girl, and as Sirius joined the pair of them in the visitor's lobby, it did not escape the Auror's attention that he seemed almost overly protective of the girl, and not in a friendship way, either.
Maybe there was something brewing between the two of them, though considering it had only been two days since her incarceration, it was too soon to say for sure what that 'thing' might be. Only those two knew the full truth of it.
But Tonks was only focused on that of her husband, and suddenly, her defenses were just paper, a paper that was being soaked by the rapidly falling briny drops. Before she could draw in the air that her body needs, she had bolted from her spot and melted into his form.
She could feel Lupin's firm torso underneath his thick sweater and the heart that beat within. His hands folded around her back, drawing her in closer. She could feel her body shake, crying for the last two days that she had thought and wondered if she would ever see her husband again.
He pulled his head back and wiped away the tears with a calloused finger, even this roughness brought more relief than Tonks felt like her heart could hold.
Remus was practically eating her with his eyes, his light brown eyes glistening with unshed moisture as he fought to blink back his sudden tears that threatened to escape from his lids if he could not manage to maintain his emotions. When he leaned in to kiss her, it was gentle and sweet and tasted of her tears.
Tonks wanted to speak, but all she could manage was a hoarse, weak croak. "Don't let me stay in here, Rem. Please get me out," she pleaded quietly.
His scarred mouth painted a soft smile that lightened his scarred, hardened features and he nodded once more before folding his wife in his arms again. "We will," he promised, his own voice sounding rough and coarse, and vulnerable.
Tonks nodded, nestling her head into the crook of his shoulder as she pulled apart as the sound of the young blonde Muggle lass behind her clearing her throat reached her eardrums, and when she reluctantly tore herself away from her husband's embrace, she was not surprised to see Professor Dumbledore standing alongside Renee Barreau, who was glancing towards the aging old wizard with a look that Tonks could only describe as a look akin to fear of him.
Renee was wearing a face like she was expecting anger from Tonks, anger that just did not exist. But the girl couldn't have been further from the truth. All she had for the young Muggle was respect, and all the young Auror wanted was to keep her safe since they still had a wicked serial killer to apprehend, after all.
But Tonks could tell Renee Barreau would not accept it yet, that she felt some kind of weird, misplaced guilt for her part in all of this as if she could have done something sooner to aid in securing her release from Azkaban Prison.
She almost looked guilty, though Merlin only knew why, as the young blonde shot Tonks and Remus a nervous, skittish glance and handed the baby towards Remus, who took baby Teddy in his arms without so much as hesitating once.
In truth, though she was twenty-six, Renee Barreau still acted like a kid. Tonks liked and could appreciate the fact that the woman wanted to own up to her mistakes, but she was going to need to learn how to forgive herself too. What had happened to Tonks in Echo Alley was not her fault, though she kept shooting a nervous look towards Remus in particular like she seemed to think that it was.
"W—we came to get you out," she managed in a breathy little squeak, painfully twisting her hands together as she looked towards Dumbledore for confirmation. "P—Professor Dumbledore said that you needed my memories?"
Tonks nodded, glancing at Remus out of the corner of her eyes before gingerly lifting Teddy from her husband's arms to cradle the baby close to her chest. "Yes. The Warden's office is down the hall and to the left. Can we go?"
"In time," Professor Dumbledore answered grimly, though he ordered the lot of them to follow him with a curt wave of his arm. "Shall we? I believe you will want to know who he is prior to returning home with your husband and son, Mrs. Lupin?" he asked, a grave twinkle in his eyes, the edges of his lips twitching, and his beard gave a twitch without the Headmaster prompting it.
Tonks nodded, and allowed herself to be led towards Miranda's office, with Remus hand intertwined around hers, her baby nestled comfortably in her other arm, with Sirius and Renee lingering in the visitors' lobby, not wanting to crowd the Warden's office by having too many people in there all at once.
As Tonks allowed Remus to escort her to Miranda's office alongside Professor Dumbledore, holding baby Teddy in her arms, she could not shake the feeling that for the first time since her false arrest, that everything would be okay.
If only she could have known how wrong she was…
It had started out simple enough. With the Morning Killer following the movements of Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin following the arrest of his son, with him never dreaming that the young witch who had the ultimate hand in his boy's demise would end up catching his eye instead, and now, to make matters truly delish, there was a lovely young slip of a blonde thing, that Muggle girl he had encountered in Echo Alley, that her wretched family and friends brought with.
It took a few weeks of following the pink-haired Auror and her husband and newborn baby to slowly edge closer and closer, get a look at her personal life.
Study her movements, her habits, making her the perfect target for his game.
But now…oh, this was truly precious. So much so that the Morning Killer almost threw back his head and laughed as he silently observed the young witch waiting nervously for her husband to arrive in the visitors' lounge. She had enlisted the help of that Muggle bitch from The Broken Spoon Café in order to secure her release from this place.
It had not been his intent to shift his focus onto the young woman's friend, this Renee Elizabeth Barreau, to make it his personal project to kidnap the Muggle bitch in order to get back at the witch who'd ruined his son's life and his as well, but here the Morning Killer was, doing just that.
He had learned from reliable sources that Mrs. Lupin was scheduled to be released from this place following the commencement of Professor Dumbledore's meeting with the Warden.
A fact which set his blood flaming in his veins, hotter than any agitated Hungarian Horntail or Chinese Fireball could flame, and he clenched his hands into fists and shoved them into the pockets of his trousers to prevent himself from lashing out at something in utter rage, which would give him away. The Morning Killer barely stifled the growl that formed in his throat.
Her face. That witch, the bitch. He simply could not get these ghastly images out of his head, no matter how hard he tried. He wondered why Merlin had forsaken him so. Had he done something, said something, to incur His wrath? His mind was rushed by the memory of his only son getting arrested at the ripe age of sixteen for heinous crimes against a Muggle woman.
He grimaced, raking his fingernails down the side of the stone-slabbed wall as he silently seethed, grinding his teeth in anger, tearing his eyes away from the horrid image. The alarmed man blinked rapidly, trying desperately to clear his head of that horrid memory. He slid his hands down his face, clutching at his green sweater.
He breathed in…out…in…out… but his exasperated lungs could simply not get enough air. His son's death haunted him daily as dreadful scenes of that horrid night that the very bitch who he had painstakingly gone out of his way to ensure she ended up in here alongside him threatened to consume him entirely.
"Sir?" A female's voice, soft, shy, and hesitant piped up from behind and he felt a light tapping on his shoulder. "You all right?" she asked, and the Morning Killer did not even have to turn to know that it was the blonde lass.
He recognized her voice, at least this time, she wasn't screaming bloody murder at him as she had in Echo Alley. Though he froze. If he turned around, she would see his face. Know who he was. And that he could not allow.
It was this thought and this single thought alone that kept him firmly rooted to his spot.
"Hey. Here's some water, sir. You look like you need it." The Muggle girl's voice was softer than silk and low as she stepped forward slightly, to which the Morning Killer turned to his left so she would only see his side profile, and even that he knew the blonde girl wouldn't be able to get a good look at his features in the dim light of the corridor like this. She held out the cup of water.
His wide glazed eyes blinked rapidly as he glanced down at the small plastic cup of ice water that someone, probably the Warden or Dumbledore, had given her, and now she was offering it to him as if he were processing the girl's words. The man knew he looked more than shocked by the blonde's kind reaction. His breaths hitched in his throat as he shakily accepted the water cup.
"Thank you," the man managed to croak out, his voice sounding grating, rough and coarse as he swallowed down hard past the growing lump in his throat. His head was spinning from all the blood that was rushing to his cheeks. He really needed a moment. "You should…you should be getting back inside to them."
Here, as if to emphasize his point, he gave a jerk of his head towards the interior of the lobby, where out of the corner of his peripherals, he caught Sirius Black cautiously eyeing the young blonde woman conversing with this stranger.
"Anytime," Renee Elizabeth Barreau offered in a cheerful sounding voice, and the Morning Killer could not resist the temptation to lift his chin just slightly, so as to get a better look at the young Muggle woman's pale and perfect features. His face, he was sure of this, held a dumbfounded expression, and the only consolation to assuage the slight twinge of guilt that pricked at his heartstrings for choosing this woman as his next target to strike a killing blow into Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin's heart, was that she deserved it.
The naivety of this young woman! The poor lass had no idea that the Morning Killer held sinister intentions. It was so innocent and naïve of this girl to blindly offer a stranger a cup of water that it actually made the man want to spin around on the heel of his shoes and grab Renee Elizabeth Barreau by the shoulders and give the girl a hard shaking.
It made him want to ask the blonde if anyone had ever taught her not to trust any random strangers, no matter how much it looked like they suffered.
Why was this girl so stupidly trusting so Merlin damned fast today? How gullible could she be? "Go," he croaked hoarsely, turning his head to the side to continue to keep his face shrouded in shadow. "Your friends are waiting for you."
The blonde parted her lips open slightly to speak, looking as if she had something to say, but must have thought better of it, for she closed her mouth and gave her head a curt shake, merely proceeding to look at the Morning Killer's silhouette shrouded in shadow with furrowed, raised eyebrows and a look of insatiable curiosity, so much so that he almost found that he could not stand it.
Suddenly, the man wished for nothing more than the blonde lass to leave his side and not look at him like this, not as he was at present, an utter disaster.
"Go!" he repeated, his tone hard and clipped this time, looking down at the ground in defeat, and yet, he saw out of the corner of his eyes he had caused the Muggle woman to flinch. Renee Barreau did not need to be told a third time.
Quickly ducking under his arm, Renee shot him one last slightly admonishing and distrusting glance as she made for the visitors' lobby to join Tonks and her husband and Sirius Black, a man who, if the Morning Killer was being honest with himself, was looking forward to seeing again and totally ruining. He needed a moment to himself to think over what course of action to take next.
The fact that the woman was due to be placed under house arrest at an undisclosed location following her release from here while the investigation into her wrongful arrest was troublesome to the man, oh, yes, but he would adapt.
He was going to have to improvise, and as he ogled the young blonde Muggle girl as she was escorted out of the Warden's office by her personal guard, that man he recognized, Sirius Black, he could not help but notice the growing level of interest and lust in the former prisoner of Azkaban's eyes, and he snorted.
The Morning Killer considered himself an opportunist, in the end. A man who would do whatever was necessary in order to achieve his desired results, as long as he reaped the benefits, in the end. He bit the wall of his cheek, watching.
He knew there was very little chance of taking Mrs. Lupin once the Warden had authorized her release from Azkaban, considering she was to be placed under house arrest and just so much as stepping one toe out of the threshold of her safe house, that sanctuary, would bring the Aurors running.
The man ground his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, hating that his precious laid plans were about to be ruined because of this new development.
No. He was going to have to improvise and get back at her a different way. His inquisitive, sharp green eyes slid towards the young blonde lass, who was standing off in a corner of the room talking animatedly with her hands to Sirius Black, and his interest became piqued. She was a far sight plainer than Mrs. Lupin, though still pretty enough. Of average height, around 5'5, he surmised.
Short blonde hair cut in a pixie cut. Natural-looking makeup with a little red lip gloss on luscious, full lips. A white fleece zip-up hoodie and blue jeans. Black boots.
Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin was all but forgotten to him now, for the time being, at least. The witch would get hers once she was released from Azkaban. It was all part of his master plan. Genius, really, though what he really wanted was the Muggle woman. Now all he could think of was the sullen woman, a truly petite little slip of a thing, with whom she seemed to be getting close to Black.
The edges of his lips curled upwards into a twisted grimace as his inquisitive eyes lingered on former prisoner Sirius Black's backside, hatred welling in his heart. Both of them, Black and Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin, spent their time living lives neither one of them should have ever been privileged to live through.
Taking walks in the park, taking photos of their baby, laughing, making faces when the witch took one of herself with her infant son in the picture to make the baby laugh.
Considering his own son didn't even make it to his eighteenth birthday. Because of her. She and her wretched werewolf of a husband had no right to enjoy the simple things in life anymore, and for some reason, the thought of making the witch and her husband suffer, just as he and his wife had suffered when they lost their boy, was thrilling to the Morning Killer as he watched Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin become reunited with her husband and son from the entryway of the visitors'' lobby of Azkaban Prison.
It was supposed to be a joyous thing, being reunited with a loved one, but the only thing it succeeded in making the Morning Killer's insides revolt and his stomach lurch and churn as his pale face turned an interesting shade of green as he pointedly looked away from the married couple's loving embrace, not wanting to think of his own wife.
His Helen. Sweet, pure, innocent, as lovely as the sunrise. His love. The only other good thing in his otherwise wretched life to come out of this world aside from their son, and she too now, was gone. As much as his heart ached for Helen to return to him, and their son, his hazy dream could never come to fruition. There simply was, and could never be, a cure for death, as much as he wished for it.
Helen's dark brown eyes drenched his memory. And now, as he stood in the entryway of the visitors' lounge, watching as Mrs. Lupin was joined by Sirius Black and the Muggle girl, Renee Elizabeth Barreau, she who had been so kind to him just now by asking after his wellbeing, his obsession on her grew.
The Morning Killer gave his head a curt shake to clear his mind and finally, by some miracle of Merlin, was able to tear his jealous gaze away from the sickeningly sweet sight of the Lupin bitch surrounded by her family and friends.
He walked purposefully through the passages of Azkaban Prison, his hands shoved in his trouser pockets, not really sure at all where he was going, his footsteps echoing off the quarried stones. He often marveled at how quickly Azkaban had been repaired following that mass breakout of Lord Voldemort's Death Eaters a few years ago. Almost a full year to the day, a year since Helen…
No! The man forced his mind to grind to a halt. He would not think of his wife. He had said goodbye to Helen a year ago when she'd died of cancer.
Even as the Morning Killer swore to leave his lovely wife in the past, and as practical as he prided himself on being, there were still times when the pain of Helen's death, and that of their only son's, would seep unwanted to the surface and render him nearly unable to breathe. Last night had been one of those times.
He had slept admittedly very little, finding the quiet still darkness of the bedroom of his sanctuary, that safe house in downtown London an unwelcome burden, as he had fought to keep thoughts of Helen and their son from his mind.
The Morning Killer had spent the dark hours laying in wake forcing his chest to rise and fall while he'd stared aimlessly up at the lazily rotating blades of the ceiling fan, as sucking in the night air pushed down the lump in his throat and filled the empty black void in his heart caused by the deaths of his son and wife. He willed his mind to think of nothing as unable to sit still any longer, he'd gotten up and restlessly paced the confines of the small and simple little bedroom.
His fists balled tightly against his pain, fury, and rage, which were his foundations, his bedrock upon which he molded his new personality these days.
Racked with the memory of his wife and son, the only good things in his life, so cruelly taken away from him, his heart felt like an empty hollowed pit. He had dreamed of Helen. She had visited her husband in his sleep many times since her passing. In the darkness, his phantasm of a wife came to him, then.
As clear as the nights that they had spent together, and the passions shared. As if Helen were right beside him, he saw straight into the depths of her rich pools of umber that were her dark brown eyes that held him captive within a single look, felt the gentleness of Helen's frail arms around his broad chest, tasted the sweetness of her kiss, and he swore he felt a lock of her hair tickle his chin.
Each time that Helen came to visit him, the Morning Killer was able to relive the love that he had thought he found, his newfound peace in a hellish life, and the heartache of waking to find his wife gone from her side of the bed, and their son not in his bedroom, his body still tingling with the memory of his wife.
He would never dare admit this to anybody, but he was afraid that he would never truly be able to go back to that life that he had shared with Helen.
It had been hard at first, working in the very place where their son had died. The Morning Killer had not been able to drive away from the tinges of melancholy when he had arrived the other night to pay the young witch a visit.
He had expected his son's spirit, his very presence to haunt every corner of this wretched, accursed prison. He pondered thoughts of what the future held for him once he took care of Nymphadora Tonks Lupin, that bitch who'd ruined his life as he slowed his stride upon standing just outside of Miranda's lavish office.
Miranda, ever the intuitive witch and sensing she was being watched, sensed the Morning Killer before she saw him. She greeted him almost before the man had crossed the threshold of the corridor and stepped into her office.
"Everett." She glanced up from a stack of papers, release papers, from the looks of them, and peered at him through the rims of her spectacles. "Sit down."
Everett inclined his head as a show of respect, his gaze flitting towards another well-respected Auror, one that he recognized, Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, whose magical blue eye was swiveling wildly in all directions, though his one good eye that he still possessed remained fixated coldly on him. "You sent for me?" He resisted the urge to smirk at the look of rage in Moody's eyes.
He already knew they had discovered his deepest, darkest secret. But oh, they would learn soon enough that he had no intention of living in a cell here.
Miranda was thoughtful for a moment before she spoke. "It would appear that I have made a grave error on my part," she snapped, no semblance of warmth to her tone as she slammed down the packet of what looked to be release papers for Tonks' release from Azkaban and fixed Everett with a truly glowering look.
A shadow of regret and sadness flitted across Miranda's lined features as the Warden continued addressing Everett in a stern voice tinged with melancholia.
"You were skilled in your job, Everett. Strong, honorable, once, or so I was initially led to believe. I could not have asked for a better counselor on my staff here, but it is with a heavy heart indeed that I must ask you to relinquish those duties and allow Auror Moody to escort you down the hall to process your admittance into the system, though this time, as a prisoner…"
He feigned innocence and straightened his posture as he sat down politely in the chair, forcing his facial features to mold into a mask of perfect indifference.
"I beg your pardon?" he asked politely, keeping his gaze fixated on Miranda solely and bypassing the growing look of anger in Mad-Eye Moody's eyes. "How do you mean?" he asked, leaning forward in his chair, and resting his cheek in his right fist, suddenly looking rather bored. The game was now up.
The fingers of his wand hand twitched as he fought back the urge to dip into his jacket pocket and draw his wand prematurely. He had to wait for the right moment. His posture stiffened as he felt Alastor Moody's fingers grip tightly onto his shoulder and roughly hall him to his feet.
"Kindly remove your hand." The words escaped his lips as a low growl before Everett could stop himself, to which he received a threatening snarl from Moody in response to it.
"You're not in a position to be making demands, boy," Moody barked hoarsely, his ironclad grip on Everett's shoulder tightening. "We saw the truth."
Miranda quickly nodded her agreement with the grizzled old Auror as she half rose from her desk, a look of rage causing her face to drain of all colors.
"How could you, Everett?" she demanded, speaking in volumes that almost sent a chill under his skin. "Those poor people, those lives you stole."
Everett tightened his lips, favoring silence as the only apt response. His eardrums caught a familiar ringing of shame coming from deep within his soul. Had he underestimated his abilities? He had thought he'd been careful. Was it that Muggle bitch? Had she recognized him, perhaps, and spilled the truth?
It was…impossible. He had been careful to cover his tracks, he was sure of it. Her voice came again, sounding pulled tight and taut with rage and shame.
"How could you?"
Everett swallowed. He could not remember seeing the details of how the Warden of Azkaban Prison turned to face her now-former counselor fully. Her face was stiff and all traces of her usual softness towards him had now dried out.
"How could you…?" she repeated, it seemed to be the only thing she could say, narrowing her eyes in despair and increase. "You murdered those people and framed an innocent woman for your own crimes. Why did you, sir?"
When at last he found his voice, it was deeper than he had ever heard it.
"I am surprised the Muggle woman managed to recognize me, that far away. "Though I don't see why you have to send her away. Let her stay awhile."
"You're insane," Moody snarled through his teeth and made a noise that sounded like a sniff of disapproval through what little was left of his scarred nose.
Everett ignored the Auror, keeping his gaze trained on Miranda alone.
"You're mistaken if you think that I am here to hurt either one of you," he continued as he turned languidly in his seat to flick his gaze towards Alastor. "Yes, I cannot deny that I am him. I am…sorry that you had to find out in this way, Miranda."
And he truly did sound remorseful, though just as quickly as the moment had come, it was gone.
"But I don't give a damn about that anymore. No, you see, I actually found something that I want, something lovely. And I've had enough of the waiting and both of you now stand in my way of getting it."
"Got in the way of what? Speak up, boy, start making sense!" snapped Moody, not in the mood for their suspect's roundabout answers or riddles, even as his heart thrummed erratically in his chest, and for once, it wasn't in anger.
No, it was trepidation, and Alastor was quick to decide he did not like it.
"Now look who's feigning ignorance," growled Everett smoothly, his mouth forming a strange, triumphant smile as he had to crane his neck upward slightly to better look the veteran old Auror and Nymphadora Lupin's mentor in the eye. "I'm talking of Bryce, Alastor. You remember my son, don't you? You ought to. She arrested him," he growled, pointing a shaking finger out to the hallway, where Remus Lupin and his wife lingered with the others while talking.
Everett's words were nonchalant as if they meant utterly nothing, but the listlessness in his cold and calculating forest green eyes told a different story.
Moody exchanged a dark glance with the Warden, trying his best to hide any hint of his emotions, he even tried not to clench his teeth in utter disgust, but after a moment, he watched as Azkaban Prison's best counselor's green eyes glistened and his Cheshire Cat-like grin widened unnaturally even further.
Everett felt as though his lungs had turned to stone in his chest. Everything ached and suddenly felt heavy. He looked to the side to catch Moody's quick evasion of his eye contact. And, perhaps for the first time in his adult life, shame rained down on him like a jinx that had caused the clouds to cover the sun.
Which made sense to him in his mind now that Tonks was about to be released from prison, and the Muggle girl, his new obsession at getting back at her, was to go with her. They're leaving. Where is Renee Barreau going?
He knew he needed to snatch Barreau in order to get to Mrs. Lupin.
Where are they going? Everett kept repeating it over and over in his head waiting for an answer, but none came to him, and neither Moody nor Miranda were skilled Legilimens and as such, could not dip into his mind and tell him the answer that he so desperately needed.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mrs. Lupin holding her baby son in her arms, her husband's arm around her shoulder, and the blonde Muggle who'd offered him a cup of water trailing close behind.
He felt his anger jump a level and the urge to kill pump through him. He tightened his hands into fists, now shaking at his sides until his knuckles were tight and white. Where were they going? He had to act before it was too late.
Before Miranda could turn towards Alastor Moody to tell the old Auror to escort him out of her office, Everett let out a threatening growl that rumbled from deep within the pit of his chest and launched himself across the desk and brutally beat the Warden of Azkaban Prison.
Blood splattered across the room and jinxes were fired, reverberating off the walls of the Warden's office as an alarm sounded. His reflexes on overdrive, Everett plunged his wand hand into the interior pocket of his jacket and silently pointed his wand at Alastor Moody.
The Morning Killer used a nonverbal incantation to incapacitate the man where he stood, watching in satisfaction as the Auror's reflexes in his aging years were too slow, and Alastor crumpled in an unconscious heap to the ground. Letting out a growl of satisfaction, he continued his beating of the Warden, and once the life had gone from Miranda, Everett looked at the witch a moment.
He could hear the ringing of the alarms that were reverberating off the walls and ignoring the startled screams and shouts of the other Azkaban inmates. Everett did not bother to concern himself with that, and he turned on the heel of his shoe and out into the corridor of the main level of Azkaban Prison.
Satisfied with himself, Everett was smart enough not to look back as he walked away from the bleeding body of Miranda slumped forward in her chair, or of the unconscious but stirring slightly figure of Alastor Moody on the ground.
He was not even enraged when he witnessed the werewolf latch onto his wife's arm, with their two-week-old infant son cradled carefully in Mrs. Lupin's arms, shout something inaudible towards his companion, good old 'Seriously, Sirius' Black, Everett remembered that one, as he grabbed his wife's arm and Disapparated, with Black doing the same thing with Muggle Renee Barreau.
Everett whistled a low tune to himself as he strolled out the door, the sound of the sirens wailing in his eardrums, not in a hurry in the slightest bit.
He had a young Muggle woman to find.
Surprise?! Aka not really lol. I'm terrible with suspense and knew who he was from the beginning before I even wrote the story. I keep tending to gravitate towards Barty Crouch Jr. as the villain besides Voldemort in my fics because I love David Tennant so much, but I really wanted a new villain for this story so I made one up! I hope they can keep Renee safe, but glad Dumbledore and Remus were able to get Tonks out!