Remember, Harry's thoughts in italics.

Previously on "Weekend Warrior"

In a final flash of light Harry was once again sitting on the couch at Grimmauld Place. This time it was, well, this time. He marked the page and closed the book. There was more of course but he came back just for a minute. Glancing down at his side he saw a discarded blanket and a slight dent in the cushions where Tonks had been.

"Tonks?" He looked around. "Tonks?" He ran to the kitchen. "Tonks!" Then the yard. No sign of her.

"Oops."

And now...

"Ron, get up." Harry was shaking his red headed friend with one hand and clutching a small journal with the other. "I need your help. Tonks was here."

"Mumf? Harry? Go back to sleep it was only a dream."

"No. No it wasn't. She was here." With a great deal of effort Ron managed to lift his sleepy head off the pillow.

"Where?"

"Er. Well. She's gone again. But she was here and bloody and bruised. But Shacklebolt, he knew all along!" Harry's lips were moving faster than the golden wings of a snitch. "She wasn't drugged. I know because I checked her eyes and they weren't dilated. And then there was a Spotted Irish Banshee. Or was it a Brazilian Spine Hook? And she called me a mutt and hit me with a bag of carrots. But then the Ministry put me on hold so I couldn't tell the others."

"That she called you a mutt?"

"Yes." Harry blinked. "No. That she was here. Right downstairs. I was in her head."

"Sounds more like she was in yours."

"Ron!"

"Harry," Ron was well aware of the fact that his friend hadn't thought about anything else in the past few days. Not for a minute. "When was the last time you got any sleep?"

"What? I don't know? I slept a bit last night. What has that got to do with anything? We have to find her! ...Again."

"Oooo kaay." Ron said slowly. He didn't say or do anything else after that. He just laid there propped up on one elbow for a while and looked like he might suddenly drop out of the waking world again. "She was here."

"Was that a question or an affirmation?" Harry wasn't sure whether Ron believed him. "Yes she was. Now lets go!"

"Alright." Ron sighed before flopping back down and yawning. For a moment Harry thought Ron didn't believe him or was too sleepy to comprehend what was going on. But the other boy didn't close his eyes and fall asleep.

Instead he grudgingly hauled himself out of bed and put on a pair of shoes and a bathrobe. He had fallen asleep in his clothes and didn't need to do much else. "Let's check in the closet and under the bed. But you're going to feel foolish when I prove there are no monsters."

"This isn't a joke."

"Sorry, mate but... well what's all this business about banshees hitting Shacklebolt with carrots?"

"No that was me."

"You hit Shacklebolt with carrots?"

"No. I mean I was the one hit."

"He hit you with..."

"Look that's not the point! That is no where near the point, okay? No banshees! No carrots! Just forget that. You need to help me because she's not making any sense."

"Oooooh." The boy nodded his red head with a great deal of sarcasm. "She's not making any sense."

Harry opened his mouth to protest but then stalled and fluttered his eyes as he thought over what to say. Again he opened and closed his mouth in several attempts to start explaining. This made him look like a gaping fish.

"Huh. Ha huh." Harry dropped his head and chuckled a bit when he finally realized that he sounded like a raving lunatic. "Yeah. I guess I'm not making much sense either, am I? Must be going around."

"Harry." Ron put a hand on his shoulder. "I believe you. Okay? I just don't know what parts I believe. Why don't you sit down and think about it first then tell me what happened. Because, honestly, I'm tempted to think you've gone completely nutter."

Harry didn't sit. He just rubbed his face for what seemed like the hundredth time that morning. "Yeah. No. I can't sit." He took and released a hardy breath. "I got up this morning..."

"Right."

"...and I went downstairs and Tonks walked in."

"You sure?"

"No. It might have been Crookshanks. Yes I'm sure!"

"Alright. No need to get angry."

The boy who lived rolled his eyes impatiently. "Well she was all bruised and dirty and she had bandages. It was like she'd just spent the weekend in hell."

"Go on." At that point Harry realized that he might as well sit since it was going to take a while explain the situation. Ron pulled a blanket over his shoulders and joined him on the cedar chest.

"And it soon became very obvious that she wasn't in her right mind." Harry continued.

"What do you mean by that?"

"She was delirious." He scrunched up his face at the memory. "Kept hallucinating that I was a dragon."

"What kind of dragon?"

Harry flopped a hand on his lap and jerked his head. "Why does that always seem like such an important question?"

"Sorry. Just curious."

"Wait... Actually, Tonks did say something about a dragon that could sense magic."

"Ah ha! Now we're getting somewhere. Or 'The game is afoot!' as Holmes would say."

"Since when do you read Arthur Conan Doyle?"

"He's alright."

"Thought you hated that stuff."

"Getting side tracked here." Ron seemed oddly defensive.

"Right. What was I saying?"

"Something about a dragon that finds you when you sleep."

"Right. Every heard of that?"

Ron just shook his head as he chewed on his nail. "Charlie's the expert." Both boys seemed to ponder this for a while.

"Well it's not much to go on. But then there's this..." Harry was about to pull out the journal Tonks had left him.

"FILTHY HALF-BLOOD LOVERS!!! How dare you disgrace the noble house of Black with this- this- this pathetic excuse...!"

Ron grumbled and rolled his eyes before shouting back. "Oh go blow it out your noble ear already you nasty old hag!" Just then Hermione knocked on the door.

"Harry! Ron! Time to get up now!" She had to shout over the old woman's screeching voice. "Before Fred and George put tabasco sauce in your pancakes or something."

The door flung open and the twins came in with slightly less energy than usual. "Come on, Hermione. Tabasco in the pancakes? What do you take us for amateurs?" Even they looked beat. Crookshanks seemed to be the only frisky one in the whole house. He raced in and jumped into Ron's lap.

Something suddenly occurred to Harry. "Why hadn't the others gotten back by now?"

"Ron it's your turn for garbage duty and breakfast." George said.

"In a minute." The younger brother answered.

"Don't try to weasel out of it."

"I said," Ron was trying to speak through gritted teeth. 'I-will-do-it in a minute.'"

"There's something you all should know." Harry began.

"No." Ron cut him off. "We'll talk about it down stairs. Everybody out. Give Harry and I a chance to get dressed." Once the others had gone he turned again to Harry, still holding Crookshanks. "Sorry, mate I don't want to get there hopes up just to tell them she's gone again. Know what I mean?"

"But..."

"It's alright. We'll find her before breakfast is even over. You'll see. Just give me a few minutes." He said heading for the shower. "I'll be out in a tick." He set the cat back down but had a hard time forcing it to stay on the other side of the door as it closed.

"We don't have time for this." Harry's leg started drilling the floor. "Tonks was already pretty bad when she took off. God knows where she is now. What's she doing? Who's found her?"

Another more bitter thought hit him. "Damn Kingsley. Mr. Weasley didn't want Tonks to go on that mission, whatever it was."

He pulled out the little book that revealed this information to him. "How did he lose her? Why did he come asking for her when she didn't get home? Was he really that stubborn. Did he not want to tell Arthur Weasley that he was wrong about the mission? Probably not  if he could find her first."

Harry, still deep in thought, forgot himself and absently reached out to stroke Crookshanks.

HISS!!!

"Ow! Bloody flea ridden...!"

"Hang on." Harry sat there puzzled for a very long time. "Hermione's cat." A few things were coming together in his head which only seemed to make this whole mystery even harder to decipher. "I never said, 'find you when you sleep'. Sherlock Holmes."

At first these things didn't seem important just odd. But it was something he could just barely overhear downstairs that made the warning bells go off in his head.

"Was that...? Downstairs, was that...? Ron's voice?"

(A/N: Dum dum dum! Ominous orchestral music gives way to dramatic organ music.

Will Harry unravel the mystery?

Will Tonks ever be found?

Will any of these characters stop babbling incoherently about dragons and start making sense?!

Tune in next time for another exciting episode of "Weekend Warrior"!)