Order
Harry cut his sausage with unusual concentration, focusing on his plate and nothing else. Breakfast that morning was an uncomfortable affair. Despite their promise to stay friends, Parvati barely turned his way and when she did, her wounded look gave him a pang of guilt every time. As Tonks had mentioned, his imaginary relationship with Hermione was the talk of the school, but both were more or less inured to the tiresome gossip. Ron was ignoring Hermione now as well, more to her exasperation than hurt, and as Harry reached for some toast, Lavender actually began feeding Ron at the table in front of everyone. Rounding out the tense atmosphere were Ginny and Dean, who had apparently had a row.
"Harry, look at this," Hermione said, nodding to the Daily Prophet she received every morning.
"Aurors raided Borgin and Burkes Friday night."
Breakfast forgotten, Harry's head snapped around. "Really? Does it say why?"
Her eyes scanned rapidly back and forth across the page. "No," she said slowly. "The reporter seems rather irritated because the Aurors refused to comment."
"We know why, right?" said Neville in a low voice, leaning across the table. "Because of what happened last week, and—" He jerked his head across the room, and Harry and Hermione swiveled around.
Draco Malfoy also had a newspaper in front of him, and to Harry's satisfaction his face was even paler than normal, almost to the point of sickly. As he lowered the paper, his mouth tightened in fury, and he very deliberately turned his gaze to the staff table. The three Gryffindors followed in time to see Tonks give Malfoy a cheeky wave.
"All they have to do is find something linking the necklace to him, and he'll be stopped for good,"
Harry declared, returning to his breakfast with new gusto.
Hermione frowned. "I don't think they did. If they found evidence like that, he wouldn't be sitting in the Great Hall."
"Oh. Right."
"It's only been a day and a bit. I'm sure it takes time," Neville said hopefully.
"Maybe. I'll ask Tonks later," said Harry, sneaking another glance at the staff table.
"Oh, how awful!" Hermione exclaimed.
"Why is that awful?" Harry queried, affronted.
"Not her," Hermione said impatiently, waving the newspaper in his face until he batted it away.
"There was a werewolf attack in Wiltshire. It was brutal, even for werewolves."
"How bad?" Parvati asked in a hushed voice. Hermione's outburst had earned the attention of half the table.
"Four deaths," Hermione said to bleak silence. "And one person missing. It doesn't give any names"
"Four deaths?" Dean echoed. "I didn't think werewolves killed very often. I thought they you know, infected."
"That's probably what happened to the one who's missing." Ginny shared a look with Harry. "But why would they take someone they've already bitten?"
"To turn him to their cause," Harry answered quietly. All eyes were on him. "Against the Ministry and for Voldemort."
"That doesn't make sense," Seamus argued after the table collectively winced. "I thought YouKnow-Who is only for purebloods and all that rot."
"The Ministry is hardly any better when it comes to half-breeds. They have all sorts of laws against werewolves, and many people are prejudiced. Remember why Professor Lupin left," Hermione countered heatedly.
"Hermione's right," said Harry. "Voldemort lets them have free rein to do things like this. It's another way for him to terrorize society, another tool to use against those who oppose him. This is who we face."
That effectively ended conversation, and once again Harry ate in silence.
The werewolf attack was still on Harry's mind when he showed up for the Sunday study group. After staring at the blank parchment of his transfiguration homework for a few very long minutes, he suddenly shoved it away and stood up, making his way to the Dark Arts shelves. Possessed by a strange fervor, Harry spent over an hour scribbling his own notes on the abandoned essay. What Tonks taught was all well and useful, but Harry wanted more. How to deal with Dark creatures such as werewolves and vampires. Ways to block and avoid the Killing and Cruciatus curses, if possible. More advanced offensive curses. Harry was trying more than ever to avoid trouble, but at the same time he wanted to be ready. When a fight came, he didn't merely want to defend himself until it was over.
Harry wanted to win.
"A dead fucking end" was how Tonks described the Borgin raid on Monday night when they entered the Room of Requirement. "Oh, we found the receipt for the necklace. To a numbered account at Gringotts."
"Surely the Gringotts goblins know who owns the account," Harry said, stretching.
"Yeah, but no one said they have to tell us," Tonks said with a grimace. "They pride themselves on security and serving their customers, not blabbing about secret accounts to the government. The goblins regulate themselves; the Ministry has no control. We have no leverage."
"Damn goblins," he muttered.
"Too right. I asked Bill to talk to someone he trusts for me, see if he can pry some information from the buggers. He's our best bet since he's had a relationship with them for years."
"And if that doesn't work?" Harry asked skeptically.
She shrugged. "Dunno. We can hold Borgin for a bit while we inventory the store, and believe me, we're dragging our feet on that, trying to keep it closed as long as possible. And we fined him. Technically it's against the law for him to sell a Dark artifact without strict records, including exactly who bought it."
"So you know who to find when something like Katie and the necklace happens."
"Precisely. But a fine won't make him talk, and we've questioned him as much as legally possible."
She brightened. "But, on that note, we may have finally hit our lucky break. There was a Death Eater, bloke named Selwyn, watching the store, and we caught him when we raided. Coop's interrogating him now."
"But if Voldemort is at all smart, he probably didn't tell him why he was guarding the store," Harry said slowly.
"Precisely again." Tonks gave him a grim smile. "Welcome to the wonderful world of hunting Dark wizards. Two steps back for every one forward and a dozen to the side."
"Well, you saw Malfoy at breakfast yesterday, didn't you?" asked Harry. "I thought he was going to be sick."
She matched his grin. "Yeah, that was great. But enough about that. Tonight I want—"
"I have something," Harry interrupted, pulling a folded piece of parchment from his pocket and handing it to her. "I did some research yesterday, and I really want to focus on stuff like this. More offensive techniques. Not that what we've been doing isn't great," he finished hastily. "Just a suggestion."
She read the parchment with interest, occasionally furrowing her brow. When she was finished, she folded it neatly and dropped it in her bag. "Sounds good. So, I want to—"
"What about my notes?" Harry interrupted again. He'd worked really hard on that.
"Well, I need time to plan, don't I?" she said. "And besides, I put a lot of thought into our sessions.
You wouldn't want all my hard work to go to waste, would you?" She pouted, pushing her lower lip out just slightly and giving him those eyes, and Harry thought he might just gaze at her forever.
"That would be a tragedy," he managed to say. "But only because you're cute when you pout."
She beamed. "I know. I'm a spoiled only child, babe; I learned the art of feminine manipulation at a very young age."
He should have been annoyed at that, but he couldn't muster anything but a fond smile. When she announced they would continue hand-to-hand combat, Harry forced himself not to groan. This type of contact was tantalizingly intimate yet not nearly what he had in mind. But he thought it a sign of progress that he was able to focus on the task at hand and look at Tonks as an opponent to be subdued, not a pretty girl.
Around the room they grappled, one or the other regularly dropping to the cushioned mats. Tonks was quicker but Harry had the advantage of reach, and she was as pleased as him when he pinned her for the third straight time. However, when he gave her a hand up, she used the leverage to knock him off his balance, and she threw herself at him, attempting to kick his feet out from under him. They struggled, and Harry twisted, trying to throw an elbow into her solar plexus and knock the wind out of her, a move she had used with great success earlier. He connected, but with something much harder than an abdomen. When her grip on him suddenly released, he whirled around, arms up defensively, then stopped in his tracks.
By the looks of it, he had broken her nose. Tonks reeled backward, the two hands she held to her face doing nothing to stop the gushing blood but effectively muffling her stream of curses.
Harry swore, horrified. "I'm sorry! Here, let me fix it." He fumbled for his wand as she took a few steps back, eyes wary. "Don't worry! Wait—what's the incantation?"
The look she gave him was anything but trusting. "Episkey," she mumbled thickly.
Harry pointed his wand. "Episkey," he said, emphasis on the first syllable.
Clearly that wasn't it. Tonks yelped as the blood flow only increased. "Episkey, Harry, Ep-ISK-ey,"
she yelled. "Like whiskey!"
He tried again, and thankfully this time the nose ceased bleeding, though by now she had the beginnings of two superb black eyes. "Sorry."
"Oww," she moaned, still cupping her nose in her hands. "Bugger me, that hurts."
"Don't be such a baby," he scolded gently. "Let me see."
"I'm not a baby," she muttered defiantly, allowing Harry to tug her hands away. Her nose still looked decidedly off, and he cast the healing spell again, stronger than his first hasty attempt. She sighed with relief.
"I was going for your stomach," he explained.
She gave him a worn smile. "I thought you would do that, so I was trying to duck and take you down at the same time. Guess I wasn't fast enough. Whatever works, I suppose, though in a real situation I wouldn't let a broken nose stop me." She wiped at her chin, gazing at the two red-smeared fingers with distaste. "Ugh. I don't even want to know what I look like right now."
He chuckled. "Let me get that."
Holding her chin with one hand, Harry siphoned the blood off her face. He didn't release her when she finished, and Tonks gazed at him with an almost curious expression. Bloody hell. There they were again, so close Harry could practically make out her individual eyelashes, the smell of applescented hair mixed with a hint of sweat flooding his senses. They really needed to stop meeting like this, or Harry couldn't possibly be held responsible for his actions. He contemplated telling her that, wondering if her laugh was as intoxicating when he was this close, but then all jokes were driven out of his head.
Her focus very clearly dropped to his mouth, lingering. Harry was seized with the mad idea of kissing her, the proximity of pale pink lips overwhelming despite the probability of the Auror hexing his favorite bits. Summoning all his Gryffindor courage, he slowly leaned forward. Tonks tilted her head just slightly, and his heart beat a staccato rhythm. At the last minute he stopped, lightly brushing the tip of her nose with a finger.
"Better?" he asked hoarsely.
Her eyes flew open. Was that an ill-concealed expression of disappointment? "Very," she breathed, swallowing. "I think, ah, I think that we've done enough hand-to-hand combat, yeah?"
He nodded, turning away.
"And remind me to throw in a crash course on basic healing spells."
On their way back to Gryffindor Tower, he glanced at Tonks out of the corner of his eye. Her wandlight reflected blue eyes that were distant, troubled, and he very much hoped he wasn't the cause.
"What are you thinking about?" he asked.
"The Order," she replied unexpectedly. "We have a meeting tomorrow night."
"Anything important?"
She made an impatient gesture. "I don't know. Things have been uneasy lately." When Harry raised his eyebrows, she continued. "To be honest, we haven't really done much since the Department of Mysteries incident. We guarded you over the summer, and we guard Hogwarts when Dumbledore leaves. Yeah, he asks us to patrol the school when he's away, but he won't tell us why. And for some members, that's fine."
"And other?" he prompted.
"Some of us—myself included—are chafing a bit. We want to do more, and we want more explanations than we've been given in the past. Death Eaters are running amok, and we just stand back, waiting to respond to the latest crisis. Besides Remus's missions with the werewolves, of course."
"And even that looks to be unsuccessful," said Harry, thinking of the recent attack.
"Yeah. So I'm not looking forward to it. I don't know what to do."
"Take me," Harry blurted out.
"Take you?" She raised her eyebrows. "Out? Away to that special place? Home tonight? As you are? Right now on the floor of the Hall of Hexes?"
"Not at this moment," Harry quipped, grinning. "Take me to the meeting."
"And that will solve "
"Nothing, probably," he told her frankly. "But there's a war on, and you know as well as Dumbledore that I'm a part of it. I'd like to know what the situation is when I do get my chance."
"You really reckon no one will care if you just pop into a meeting one night?" she asked wryly.
"Oh, no. I expect quite a row. But maybe he'll start to take me seriously, and what do I have to lose?"
She looked at him keenly for a moment, tilting her head, but Harry knew Tonks well enough to recognize the gleam of challenge in her eyes. "Yeah, okay," she agreed with a shrug.
It wasn't until she left him at the Fat Lady and began walking away that he heard her mutter, "This is a very bad idea."
"This is a very bad idea."
Harry walked into Tonks's quarters. "Nice to see you, too. Are you having second thoughts? That's a loser move."
She made a face at hearing her own words. "Not at all. All my best adventures started with someone proclaiming it to be a bad idea. I'm simply making sure you know what you're getting yourself into."
He smiled cynically. "I predict a disaster, but maybe it will give them something to think about." He brushed past her, glancing at the mess on her bed. "Speaking of disaster"
"Hush. I'm reorganizing my kit. It's important that I maintain all my supplies as well as know exactly where everything is. I do this before every mission or at least once a week regardless, and you caught me in the middle." She glanced at her watch. "We should get there a bit late so that everyone else has already arrived, so give me a few minutes to wrap this up and we'll go."
Harry took a seat, watching as she carefully replaced each item. Some were unsurprising—vials of Veritaserum, Polyjuice Potion, blood-replenishing potion, and others. Some made sense once he thought about it—Decoy Detonators and Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder from Fred and George's shop. Others were more unexpected—matches, a multi-tool, a torch.
"Is this all required?" he asked.
Tonks held up one finger, brow furrowed in concentration as she finished, placing flapjacks and packets of instant coffee mix in side pockets. "Huh?"
"Is everything required?"
She shook her head. "Not all. Every Auror customizes his or her own kit. Some think I'm mental with the Muggle goods, but they're handy. Remind me someday to tell you the story of how I aced one of my qualification tests with the multi-tool."
"And what is this?" Harry picked up the last remaining item on the bed, a short but rather wickedlooking dagger.
She plucked it from his hands. "This is my boot knife." Propping one foot on her desk, she slid it into what he guessed was a specially designed sheath inside her boot.
"Have you ever used it?"
"No, but Alex has, and he requires our team to carry one. Like unarmed combat, it's a last resort, but it can be just what you need to catch an opponent by surprise. Particularly Death Eaters, since many consider Muggle methods to be so beneath them." She removed it, cautiously sheathing the knife inside her bag. "But I don't wear it as a matter of everyday practice." After shrugging into her jacket, she grinned at Harry. "Ready, babe?"
"Lead the way."
Tonks strode to her fireplace, lighting it with her wand. "This is highly illegal, of course, but Arthur has a discreet contact in the Floo Network. Makes it much easier to travel back and forth. Shall we?" Throwing a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace, she stepped into the green flames and shouted, "Twelve Grimmauld Place!"
After she disappeared, Harry followed. When he reeled out of the fireplace into the basement kitchen of the Order headquarters, trying to regain his equilibrium, he stumbled over a prone figure on the floor.
"Sorry!" Tonks said, picking herself up and dusting off her clothes. "I tripped."
Harry didn't reply, gazing around the room. He had completely forgotten that the meeting would be in Grimmauld Place. The last time he had been here, so had Sirius, and after his godfather's death Harry swore he would never set foot in the house he inherited. Memories flooded, bittersweet and painful.
A gently laid hand on his shoulder diverted his attention, and he looked into the sympathetic green eyes of Tonks. She patted his arm, offering a brief smile before heading for the door.
"Are you ready for this?"
Harry nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah."
He followed her upstairs, and when they reached the door to the drawing room, she squeezed his hand. As she pushed the door open, he braced himself. The casual chatter and happy greetings of the tardy member gave way to utter silence when Harry stepped out from behind Tonks, staring at over a dozen surprised, confused, and familiar faces. At least Professor Snape wasn't in attendance.
Mrs. Weasley was the first to speak, standing and taking a few steps toward him. "Harry? Why in the world are you here?"
"Yes, Potter, what are you doing here?" Professor McGonagall narrowed her already-thin lips. "Not at school, where you're supposed to be."
"He has permission," Tonks piped up, pulling a crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket. She cleared her throat. "I, Petunia Dursley, give my nephew, Harry Potter, permission to accompany this strange woman wherever she pleases as long as she leaves my house immediately and never returns." She grinned. "I used a dictation quill. It's really what she said. Lovely woman."
"And would this be the reason Vernon Dursley drove home in a great hurry in the middle of the day with a rather large bottle of brandy?" Dumbledore asked quietly, neither his tone nor face betraying any feeling.
Tonks adopted an innocent expression. "I have no idea. Perhaps she's a bit of a lush. I only tried to help with her housework."
"This is beside the point," McGonagall snapped irritably. "Potter, you simply cannot leave school when you feel like it, regardless of your guardian's permission."
"I know, and I'm sorry," Harry said, trying to project an image of calm maturity instead of headstrong youth. "But I can't stand on the sidelines any longer." He turned his attention directly to Dumbledore. "Sir, I know we already talked about this. But you know I have a role to play. You know that. All I'm asking is to attend meetings, to keep up with what Voldemort is doing. I have to know what I will face."
"Harry, I'm afraid our position is the same as it has always been," thin, balding Mr. Weasley said.
"Order members must be of age and out of school."
"All he wants is to be in the know," Tonks argued. "What would it hurt?"
Remus Lupin, shabby as always over in a corner, spoke up for the first time. "I must point out that circumstances have changed since the Order first reconvened. Though Harry simply showing up like this is impulsive, I can't see the harm in allowing him to ask questions, just as we did when YouKnow-Who returned."
Harry gave his former teacher a grateful smile. "That's all I want," he said quickly. "Please, Professor."
"We will give this some thought," Dumbledore said. All chatter in the room ceased when he spoke; Harry had never been more aware that this was Dumbledore's group. "At the present, however, I think it best if you return to Hogwarts. Minerva?"
"Yes, let's go, Potter," McGonagall said crisply, moving to his side.
Harry stared at Dumbledore with dismay. True, he had expected no other outcome, but he was letdown nonetheless. How long was Dumbledore going to view him as just another student? It had taken one death for him to reveal the prophecy. Would it take another for him to admit that Harry played a vital part in the fight against Voldemort? For him to offer help? Anger rose boiling from his gut, and the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead burned fiercely. Harry gritted his teeth, rubbing his temple. In the past the burning of his scar signaled a glimpse into Voldemort, but no memories forced their way into his consciousness.
He became aware that all eyes were on him. Harsh words formed in his throat, and then he paused. A show of anger wouldn't help anything, and so perhaps for the first time Harry Potter clamped down on his hair trigger temper, opting simply for spinning on his heel to walk away.
"Harry," Tonks began. He glanced at her, and the tautness of her mouth told him the drawing room of Grimmauld Place was about be the site of another legendary Black outburst.
"Tonks, it's fine." He gave her a quick smile when she made to protest. "Really. I'll talk to you later."
"If you say so. See you later, mate."
A few other members of the Order called goodbyes as he departed, and Harry took note. He might be contacting them in the future.
Tonks faced her associates. Their expressions covered an interesting spectrum, all the way from intrigue and sympathy to disappointment and anger.
"Please sit down, Nymphadora," Dumbledore requested pleasantly, again demonstrating a remarkable ability to act like nothing happened.
She shook her purple head. "Can't do that, Professor. We need to talk about this."
"Of course we do," he agreed unexpectedly. "I was merely extending a courtesy. By all means, stand, if you prefer."
"You can't be taking the boy seriously," elderly Elphias Doge wheezed from the sofa.
"And why not?" Tonks demanded, fully aware her hold on her temper was unraveling. They hadn't even listened to Harry.
"What were you thinking, Tonks?" Molly asked, clearly appalled.
"I was thinking that Harry's earned a place here," she retorted.
"He's a boy!"
"If I allow Harry, then would you expect me to allow his friends as well?" Dumbledore asked.
"It wouldn't be a terrible thing, Albus," Mad-Eye said. Tonks smiled at her mentor. People paid far more attention to the battle-hardened veteran than the clumsy rookie. "They'll be in the Order in a year or two anyway; I think we can all admit there's no stopping that. It wouldn't be a bad idea to let them learn the ropes before they jump in."
"You want to involve teenagers in a war?" Molly was aghast. "Are you serious, Alastor?"
"A year or two is a long time for teenagers anyway," Dumbledore's brother Aberforth countered, one of the few times he had spoken in a meeting that Tonks could recall. "They may very well change their minds by then."
"I taught them all three years ago, and I can assure you that their natures remain the same," Remus said. "Allowing them access to information they'll probably gleam from other sources regardless isn't exactly involving them in a war. We're not talking about recruiting child soldiers."
"Exactly! They're around during the summer anyway. Give them a little bit of knowledge, a little bit of training, and so when they do join up (or do something stupid like break into the Department of Mysteries) they'll be that much better prepared."
"They're still young, and we shouldn't force them to grow up any faster than they have to," Molly said firmly. "Harry's had enough of that in his life."
"There's a war on, Molly," Tonks said with impatience. "Do you really think they have much of a jolly adolescence as it is? And Harry's different anyway. How many times has Voldemort gone after him?"
"Oh, not that Chosen One nonsense." Sturgis Podmore snorted in derision.
"Different how, Tonks?" Hestia Jones asked curiously.
Tonks gave Dumbledore a pleading glance. She wasn't about to break Harry's trust and reveal the prophecy. Dumbledore was the only one in the room who knew exactly what she referred to, and if he didn't speak up now, she would give up. "Just different," she muttered stubbornly, furious. "And besides, this all might be over in a year or two, and not necessarily on our terms."
"What a vote of confidence," someone murmured, but she couldn't make out who.
She began pacing back and forth across the room. "We're not exactly winning, are we? People are dying, everyone's terrified of their shadow, and what are we doing? Sitting in a dusty old house. Roaming the halls of Hogwarts. We need to do more."
One of the twins spoke up, Fred, she thought. "I have to agree with Tonks. George and I are the only new members since this started, and all we've done is a few guard shifts over Harry while he was at his uncle's."
"What exactly are you proposing, Tonks?" Arthur asked.
"I don't know!" she burst out, throwing her hands in the air. "Just more. To do more besides wait for something to happen. I feel like that's all we do."
"You want to go looking for trouble, go right ahead, girlie," Aberforth grumbled. "Leave the rest of us out of it."
That was it; she couldn't take anymore, even if others were on her side. Hestia began to speak rather heatedly, but Tonks spoke over her. "You know what? Forget it. I—I can't do this anymore. This goes beyond Harry. I don't know why this group has settled into lethargy, but I don't want any part of it. By the time you all pull your head out of your arses, it might be too late." She whirled and headed for the door. "Have a nice day, and bugger off."
Someone called her name, but she ignored it, just as she ignored the screaming of her great-aunt's portrait when she thundered down the stairs and slammed the front door.
"Tonks!"
"What!" she burst out, spinning around in the middle of the street. "What, Remus?"
He approached with a strained smile. "You're right, you know."
Expecting a reprimand, she was taken aback. "I am?"
He chuckled. "And you were so sure of yourself a moment ago. Yes, you're right. You're right that we're not doing enough. And you're probably right that Harry needs to be involved." Here he paused, as if searching for appropriate words. "But I suspect telling everyone to bugger off isn't the best way to get your point across."
She grinned. "Sorry. It slipped out. So what are we going to do about it?"
"The problem is that not everyone is like you, Tonks."
"Clumsy, loud, and fantastically gorgeous?"
"Precisely," he said with a touch of that dry humor he showed far too rarely. "Also, an Auror. You are born and bred to seek action and throw yourself headfirst into it. You're asking people to risk their lives."
"Isn't that why we joined the Order?"
"Of course, but what sounded so very noble in the beginning has become so very real over the last year. Give them time, and they'll come around." He hesitated. "I have to ask, what's going on with you and Dumbledore? I sensed some sort of undercurrent."
"Ah, your wolfie sense was tingling," she quipped. "You should probably talk to Harry about that."
"Somehow I knew it was about him."
Tonks looked at her friend almost pityingly. "You're very smart, Remus, I'm sure you can figure it out. You should talk to him, anyway, you know. He doesn't really have anyone else."
Remus frowned, brushing his hair away uncomfortably. "I've thought about that, but I don't want him to think I'm trying to be some replacement for his godfather."
"So be a friend. That's all he needs. He misses Sirius more than any of us." She put a hand on his shoulder, catching his eye. "Talk to Harry, Remus."
He gave her a penetrating look. "Do you and Harry spend a lot of time together?"
"Yes," she replied honestly, fighting down a flush.
"I hope you know what you're doing."
She smiled enigmatically before waving and heading for the apparition point. "Yeah, me, too," she muttered under her breath.
Harry brooded silently next to Professor McGonagall, who insisted on accompanying him to Gryffindor Tower, probably to make sure he actually went back. The meeting hadn't been a complete failure, he told himself. Some had appeared to actually agree with him, and perhaps they could appeal to Dumbledore. And he was reasonably sure they were getting an earful from Tonks at that very moment. Regardless, Harry didn't intend for this to be the end of the matter.
"Here we are, Potter," McGonagall said briskly when they arrived at the Fat Lady. "Do try to stay here for the night."
"Sure, Professor." Had she read his mind?
"Just a moment," she said as he gave the password. "There's still the matter of your punishment."
Harry gaped. "Punishment?"
She held up a hand. "No matter who accompanies you or if you have your guardian's permission, you cannot leave the castle whenever you feel like it. Had you come to me but you didn't. Twenty points from Gryffindor and two detentions."
Harry made to protest but stopped himself. It wouldn't do any good. "Okay. Anything else?"
"No, that's all." As he climbed through the portrait hole, she spoke again. "I'm sorry it didn't work out the way you wished."
Harry made a beeline for his trunk, where he snatched his invisibility cloak and Marauder's Map. Settling into a chair near the fire, he surreptitiously checked the map for Tonks, but as he expected, she hadn't yet returned. Harry searched the common room. It wasn't terribly late, and students were still out, but he didn't spot a familiar head of bushy hair.
A dark-haired girl heading for the girls' tower caught his eye. "Parvati?"
She looked his way reluctantly. "Yes?"
"Have you seen Hermione?"
She glanced up the staircase. "She had a headache and went to bed early. Do you want me to get her for you?"
"No, it's fine. Tha–"
"See you, Harry."
"Parvati, wait, we're not—" But she was gone.
Harry slouched in his chair, trying to figure out how to repair his friendship with Parvati. Despite the discomfort their relationship had brought him, he had enjoyed getting to know her better, and he still very much wanted to be her friend. Nothing occurred to him besides waiting it out, and so as he continued to check the map for Tonks, he pondered McGonagall's words.
He had often thought of her as somewhat in Dumbledore's shadow—powerful in her own right, of course, but always on the side of the Headmaster. And though she hadn't said anything outright, it was the second time that term she had hinted that she may agree with Harry over Dumbledore. Very intriguing.
A dot labeled 'Nymphadora Tonks' appeared in her quarters at that moment, and dropping McGonagall from his mind, Harry sped out of Gryffindor Tower, ignoring Ritchie's warning that curfew was fifteen minutes away. If the Metamorphmagus was surprised to see him at her door, she didn't show it, waving her wand to shut the door behind him as she sprawled languidly on her bed.
"Anything happen after I left?" he asked, taking a seat in her desk chair.
"We had a bit of an argument, about you, about our lack of missions."
"I got the impression some are on our side."
"Some are. Hopefully we gave them something to think about. Power in numbers, yeah?"
"You've cooled down. I figured I'd find you pissed off and cursing."
She propped herself up on her elbows, offering Harry a knowing grin. "My temper generally leaves as fast as it comes. Out of the two of us, I assumed you would be angrier. I flare out much more quickly than you."
He shrugged. "I told you beforehand I didn't expect much. It occurred to me that losing my temper wouldn't help any."
"Ah, I hate it when you're the mature one. Embarrassing, that is."
He smiled briefly before lapsing into a contemplative silence. Harry wanted to defeat Voldemort. Dumbledore wanted to defeat Voldemort. The Order wanted to defeat Voldemort. Hell, the Ministry wanted to defeat Voldemort. How was it that four different people, or groups of people, could have the same goal yet none could agree on how to reach it? To Harry, it seemed simple (though admittedly much harder than it sounded aloud): Voldemort had to be killed. Right?
Harry absentmindedly reached up to adjust his glasses when he had the feeling that he was being watched. Looking up, he saw that Tonks was studying him, her chin in her hands and an affectionate smile on her face.
"You're cute when you brood," she said in a cheerful tone when their eyes met.
He looked away, trying unsuccessfully to hide a pleased smile. "Am I?"
"Oh please, like no one's ever told you you're cute before. But keep creasing your forehead like that and you'll get wrinkles. What are you thinking so hard about?"
"The Order."
"Yeah, me too." She trailed off, staring into space before sitting up on her knees. "Want to see something? Come here."
When Harry approached her bed, she tugged down one side of her trousers, revealing a rather large area of bare hip. Harry stared at the exposed skin, completely losing the power of speech.
"A flash of skin and you're gawking like a horny teenage boy. You'd see much more if I was in a bikini," Tonks told him, swatting his head playfully. "See it?"
He blinked, willing away his mental image, and then realized there was something emblazoned on the enticing area. "That's a tattoo. A phoenix?"
"Yeah," she confirmed, returning her trousers to their proper position while the red and gold bird flew around gracefully. "A bunch of us got one when we first joined."
"Wicked," he said. He liked the idea of everyone having a physical representation of a common cause. Something to bind them together forever. "Who?"
"Me, Bill, Charlie, Hestia, Sirius, Kingsley, and Sturgis. The twins now, too. And Remus."
"Lupin has a tattoo?" he repeated in disbelief. "Are you taking the piss?"
"Cross my heart. It took a lot of begging and a few shots of firewhiskey, but he submitted in the end."
"Cool. I like it."
"Yeah? I figured joining the Order and taking a stand against Voldemort might be the most important thing I ever do with my life. It was Sirius's idea, actually. He said we'll always have something to remember those we lose." Her voice dropped. "How right he was."
"Sirius thought I should be in the Order." Harry fidgeted with his wand, dropping his gaze to the floor. "It's still weird, not getting letters, being at Grimmauld Place without him. I miss him."
"I know, Harry." Tonks reached out and took his hand. "I know you do."