Grandpa Tonks appeared relaxed but the young auror could tell he was nervous; his eyes were lacking their usual twinkle. Her father couldn't hide it as well, pacing backwards and forwards in front of the door. Her mother on the other hand had managed to pull her old pureblood mask out from somewhere and looked imperious and immovable as she laid out tea with saucers and teaspoons. That in and of itself was a sign that Andromeda Tonks was nervous, she hated using saucers and Tonks had never even seen the frilly, flowery cups that she was using. If she didn't know better, she would have assumed they came from Malfoy manor, what with the silvery peacocks on them. Her grandparents were arguing over some trivial mistake in the crosswords they'd been solving together, but she spotted both of them regularly checking the clock above the mantel piece.
There was still another five minutes at least before he would arrive. She stroked her beard, then checked her appearance in the mirror. She screwed up her face as she morphed back into a young woman and checked her reflection again. Purple hair suited this chin, so she kept it.
Her gaze wandered back to her grandmother, now no longer faking any interest in the crosswords. She was wiping the last, nonexistent dust off her midnight blue dress, yet another telltale sign of everyone's anxiety.
The clock chimed, almost masked by a soft pop of apparation and the immediate knock on the door, she should have expected him to be punctual. Her father was at the door in seconds having been pacing only yards from it, her mother's hands rattled the lid of the teapot and her Grandma gave a small squeak of surprise.
The door opened to reveal Professor Wohl in his true form. His hair was bright, crisp white; about an inch longer than it had been when she'd last seen him in the Ministry before he had been moved to Hogwarts. His eyes were still disconcerting, she might never get used to seeing the mismatched (or, she recalled, Ravenclaw) colours. He was wearing the same brown cloak, only, his triangular pendant was now out in full view. Wohl… Grindelwald was wearing the stigma of his past with pride.
There was a moment of silence as her parents and her muggle grandparents observed the visitor, and vice versa. Clearly, Gellert... Wohl was fighting back his own, oversized pride before stepping into a partially muggle household. What she noted as an oddity, however, was that he came empty-handed. It wasn't like he had much opportunity to buy surprise gifts, he couldn't leave Hogwarts' grounds without an escort, but somehow it still didn't feel like his style. At least, that was her impression.
Once they were done with mutually examining each other, Professor Wohl stepped firmly to the oldest Tonks and shook his hand. Although Grindelwald looked quite good for a 113 year old, he made the muggle man suddenly appear young in comparison. "Your grandfather was my second cousin," he then said without a preamble.
Tonks, the auror, blinked. She didn't see that coming.
Professor Wohl flashed her a warm smile before he moved to greet the rest of the family.
'Mr. Grindelwald.' Her mother curtsied, pureblood heiress charm turned up to the maximum. He bowed, ghosting his lips across the back of her hand in return to her charm. Her father, the first (?) Hufflepuff in the family, shook hands with him in a manner that suggested he desired no closer association with the infamous guest. Then he was facing her muggle grandparents again, and she found herself automatically catching her breath. And just like her, the old wizard seemed positively anxious.
"I'm certain Auror Tonks has told you about Bathilda Bagshot, a venerated expert of magical history, and my great-aunt on my grandmother's side. It came to my notice only recently that she had a squib son who had been adopted by a childless couple of real muggles, and lived his life under the impression that my great-aunt was only a close friend to his family. The name of this squib was Eoghann Tonks."
With a wave of his wand (and of course, without asking for permission) he cleared a considerable surface on the living-room's soft green wall, and charmed the Tonks family tree on it. He ended his talk with a soft statement, "The family magic returned within a decade after my defeat, when it was certain that my line would die out in well-deserved captivity."
Tonks stared at him as he added his own side of the bloodline with a barely-there pale shade of blue. If she squinted, it wasn't even visible against the green background. The former professor writing on the wall felt familiar, although the names in pale blue felt foreign – for now, she reminded herself. She had hardly ever heard the name of Eoghann Tonks, once her grandpa mentioned where he was buried… Bagshot was ancient, not only to her young eyes, she was clearly older than Wohl and Dumbledore's generation, but… she was her great-great… WHAT?
One more wave of the visitor's wand while she was counting the generations, and a similarly discreet line of Blacks manifested on the maternal side. The wizard didn't add any commentary to that. He had quietly pocketed his wand, and sheepishly stepped back, giving them time to process what they'd just been told. Clearly, it wasn't an everyday occurrence to find out their 'muggle' family was connected to the most abhorred wizard in centuries. Muggleborns, for the better or worse, should have been given a blank page. And how could a mother give up her son? Even if they had kept contact for a generation or three! She wouldn't have had the heart to do the same, except… Tonks paused, realizing it must have been done for Eoghann's benefit. He had lived a muggle life instead of being shunned from the wizarding society, never feeling like an outcast, like a cripple. Remus had once told her that muggles are so much easier to blend in with, they have their prejudices of their own, but with some magic those are easier to maneuver around.
Tonks saw her father pale at the sight of the complete (was it?) family tree, her mother gaping the way a pureblood never should. Her grandmother was mouthing 'Just WHAT?' while her grandpa was tracing his old fingers on the stark black and the pale blue lines, nodding with the same proud gestures she had always found somehow familiar on her seventh-year Defence teacher.
'Now, forgive an old man his haste, but I might take this chair here.'
She didn't know how long they had been staring shell-shocked, she turned around just in time to see him taking a seat in the spare armchair. The well loved fabric looked like a throne as he elegantly placed his frail arms on the rests. There was a murmur of assent as everyone else finally moved to take their seats, her mother batting Tonk's hands away from the delicate chinaware as she tried to help pour tea. Accepting the message, the young witch let her mother serve slices of delicate Victoria Sponge.
"Do you have proof?" Mrs Tonks, the grandmother, asked.
"Mom, he's Gellert Grindelwald. He wouldn't admit to a squib / muggle family unless he absolutely had to," Ted Tonks replied immediately.
The wizard in question offered them a different approach. "Any of you who have attended Hogwarts can visit my great-aunt. I have suggested that before," he smoothly replied, but Tonks, the auror, felt like his mismatched gaze was piercing her for previously ignoring the advice. She had to admit, family or not, a dark wizard from this close was frightening. Her auror self wanted to flee so as not to draw any danger on her defenceless grandparents, but her Hufflepuff nature won. The greatest dark wizard of the century had been a mentor to her almost the way Mad-Eye Moody was. She pulled her seat closer to the old criminal.
"So you are my…?" she quietly tried.
"Twice removed great-great uncle describes it. I doubt there's a more specific word in any of the known languages." His tone was cold, factual. He was keeping a distance, like every time his past was about to be brought up and held against him. The auror wondered if it was a true sense of shame she was seeing - she'd been told that would be a rare sight.
"I'll go with 'uncle', then!" she declared. "Uncle Grindelwald! That's so cool!" His reply was a kiss to her hand.
Apart from the two of them, there was silence as everyone received their tea, then her grandpa broke it with a comment about how good the cake was. Her mother blushed delicately, admitting that it was prepared by Dobby, the elf. She continued with the story of how her sister Narcissa had freed the tiny creature so that he wouldn't spill secrets to the Malfoys. Wohl made a dry but somehow still funny remark about the peacockish patriarch, that was the first thing tonight her grandma agreed with.
It was slightly surreal to see her mother and her (paternal) (muggle) grandma briefly bouncing old fashioned etiquette with 'Wohl', especially as she'd never seen either women really show much interest in the concepts. Of course, when she thought about it, muggle and wizarding customs weren't that far shifted until the last two centuries, and Grindelwald had a very large following so he must have meshed with the general elite in at least some way.
Then a change came over Wohl as he seemed to move on to business, placing his teacup in midair as if there was a side table there. Her muggle grandparents gasped and her grandma's hand shot out in an impressively fast reaction to catch the falling china. Only nothing happened, the dish hovered exactly where Grindelwald had left it as if there really were a table underneath. The old wizard just looked imperiously over at the two amazed muggles before returning to the last crumbles of his cake.
Then, there was an awkward silence as everybody seemed to expect somebody else to speak. The old wizard was prepared for a round of bitter commentary, he had brought shame to an unsuspecting family and a child who would have to hide her true origins from her auror colleagues. The muggle grandmother and the squib-descendant grandfather were too cautious to speak up, however. Ted Tonks busied himself with yet another slice of the cake, shooting odd looks at the visitor. Andromeda Tonks née Black finally forced out a weak joke about being disowned from a dark family for marrying into yet another one.
Tonks, the youngest, decided it was time to share her own opinion aloud. "I'm blood related to Wohl Grindelwald! Yeah!"
"I didn't dare hope you'd take it this well," the aged wizard offered a suppressed smile. "I'm not exactly proud of being who I am."
"Somehow, I understand that!" her grandfather remarked.
"Grandpa!"
"He's right."
She saw her mother's gaze wandering back to the fresh family tree on the soft green wall, her father opening his mouth to ask a question but then closing it again. It was Grandpa Tonks who finally queried about Bathilda Bagshot, whose first books he had read after he had learned he had a wizard son, and whose latest few the family had purchased the week of their publishing. Who, it turns out, was his great-great grandmother. Wohl finally seemed to loosen up, and shared how he had spent a summer in Godric's Hollow after he had been expelled from Durmstrang, how he had met the neighboring wizard boy there, how the two of them bonded over a quest for the most magnificient power (the true power over death) and how the idyll had ended with Ariana's demise. His recount was full with a wide scale of emotions, yet felt impartial about the facts that had happened: she suspected that ability made him the wonderful History teacher Binns had been so far from. Then, when she pointed this out, he grinned at her and admitted to have left a tiny detail out, that he had started that three-way duel with a Cruciatus. At this point, she only rolled her eyes. Her father, however, reacted with a grumble, as if he had just been reminded of the fact they were having a quasi-pardoned war criminal and mass murderer over for tea. She recalled how often Ted Tonks had voiced his massive disapproval of Wohl – and there was no denying how horrifying and blood-soaked the old wizard's path had been. As an auror, it would be her duty to protect the innocent from the dark arts' practicioners, of which Grindelwald was a fine example.
Meanwhile, her grandmother, the only "true" muggle in the household, moved to collect the chinaware, cautiously leaving the visitor's floating cup for last. Her distant in-law squirmed aside in his armchair, the auror noted: he was still hiding a good measure of stupid disgust.
Once the table was clear, however, Wohl looked deeply in her eyes with his blue and brown gaze. "What do you know about Nurmengard, Auror Tonks?"
Her first reaction would have been the ward system her Defence classmates, now wardbuilders working loosely connected to the DMLE, had fawned about for an entire day. She decided she could skip that: nobody likes being trapped in a prison of his own making. Instead, she recalled the words of a Gryffindor friend of hers.
"Alicia brought back a dozen pictures after their quidditch camp! I was so envious. Beautiful panorama, honestly, did you ever get bored with that?"
"Yes," was the mirthless reply.
"Well, I'd love to see it once. And the living area Harry mentioned to have scouted with you on Tuesdays. He was positively glowing when he talked about it last Christmas!" She added as an afterthought, "You know, his godfather and my mom were disowned from the same family. We decided that means they're related."
He looked at her, gaze still piercing, like when he had expected her to continue. She decided to skip the rest of their Christmas family reunion, Wohl had already read about it in her letters, and honestly, he hadn't had much reason to celebrate at the time, nor anyone to celebrate with. In fact, his only nice Christmas in fifty years had been the one he had spent at Hogwarts in incognito and under the headmaster's Fidelius spell.
"Well, there's also the Transfiguration team's quidditch stadium," she continued. "I heard Cedric's dad is pushing for some charity match there, on the one hand he still openly hates you but on the other, Cedric has won the Tournament and so, he's a bit of a celebrity and Amos Diggory wouldn't oppose him. So, I hope the tickets won't be too expensive. Why?"
"I have nothing else to my name," Grindelwald stated. His calm was only superficial - she could tell he was hiding something. Something bitter-sweet. "Well, a few tomes' worth of war crimes and a madman your ministry needs me handling, but there's nothing that would resemble a home that wasn't surrounded by bloodshed."
"It's not like you didn't have a say in that matter, cousin-much-removed," the oldest Tonks noted.
"Grandpa, Wohl didn't come here because he needed a reminder!" the young auror snapped.
"I'm not sure I like where this is going," was her father's opinion.
The old wizard reached into his pocket, and Tonks tensed. It wasn't his wand pocket, but there could have been an ugly surprise. Moody had trained her well.
Her former Defence teacher and freshly revealed 'uncle' pulled out a thin black quill, muttering about the perks of having a certain 'dear Dolores' as his colleague. Tonks's mother coughed, perhaps remembering the time when she and the toad-witch in question had attended school together.
"For an auror, you're still too easy to distract," her uncle quietly reprimanded her. Truly, when she looked back at him, he was holding an official-looking parchment and offering the blood quill to her.
Her surprise must have shown, long curls of dark purple hair covering her vision for a moment. She shortened her coiffure to her usual short cut and shrunk her eyeballs back to normal size. The parchment was still there. And it still named her as the sole owner of Nurmengard Castle, the adjoining grounds, and the quidditch stadium.
She looked at the visitor whom she had correctly guessed to have not come empty-handed: he came with an ancestral fortress's ownership documents in his pocket! That, she laughed inwardly, was exactly his style. Overdoing it in a way nobody else would have been able to.
"Nymphadora…," her father called. "You don't need to sign it."
"She would be the heiress anyway," her pureblood mother interjected with forced calm.
Grindelwald ignored her thinly veiled displeasure at the unorthodox and admittably infamous gift. 'It is in need of a good cleaning of course and the floo has yet to be connected, but the lighting is quite spectacular over the full moon.' He gave her a meaningful look and she spluttered in indignation. Alright, she could admit that she did have a crush on a certain werewolf but as far as she remembered she hadn't actually told anyone. Nosy seers aside though, the idea of her own place was quite appealing, even if it did need a bit of redecoration; something her mother would surely enjoy. A mountain fortress abroad was a bit extreme to start her own life in, but who cared?
'I'd be happy to take it.' She answered honestly and the old man's face broke out into a carefree, cheerful, victorious smile.
'Just do me a favour; never assign me a room there.'
"You have my word, uncle Wohl!" she replied.
She felt the blood quill cut into her skin as she signed the sheet, then the distant awareness and sheer weight of the powerful wards suppressed everything else for a few moments.
"I suppose you might want to use an international portkey, auror Tonks," the former owner placed a fistful of tiny, slightly eye-shaped triangular pieces of metal on the table. She didn't bother to count them, but she estimated a dozen at least. "All of these respond to the same phrase. But I have your word, right?"