It's been a long time, I know. The ideas just won't connect to make the story. In any event, here's a chapter I've had for a while.
Why Nym, are you asking me out? This is so unexpected, and I haven't a thing to wear. Nym rolled her eyes as she reread the first line of Rick's reply. No, she most certainly hadn't asked him out. She'd only asked him if he'd be able to come with her to the awards dinner because, as Remus had predicted, Lucius did expect her to have an escort. A proper, pureblooded wizard from an old wizarding family, actually, but to save breath he tended to just say 'escort'. Not a date. Not a friend. An escort, like Bagman had escorted her at her uncle's stupid dinner that night of her birthday.
Nym frowned at the thought of her birthday. It hadn't been at all pleasant. She still hadn't had time to look up magical contusions caused by rampaging cockatrices, and the thin, hazy lines seemed to be spreading from the main scar. She still hadn't opened the package Remus had given her, either. She wanted to, but she also wanted to savor the moment, and there just hadn't been time. Somehow, her aunt and uncle had found time to give her their birthday present – a brand new racing broom and quidditch guards.
With a shake of her head at her own wandering attention – Professor Tofty would have had something to say about that – Nym returned her attention to Rick's letter. It had already prompted a response from her (a short, one line piece that said she was settling for less than she ought and he should be flattered), but despite their banter and her own misgivings, in half an hour he would arrive to pick her up. She'd mentioned her arrangements to her aunt and uncle, just as a courtesy, really. Lucius had nearly flown into a rage at the thought of any of her adoptive brothers coming to his home. Narcissa had been calmer, though only a bit. In the end, to shut them up more than anything, Nym had written Remus and told him she and Rick would floo to the ministry, and they needn't bother coming to collect her. In fact, she'd amended at the end of the note, it would be bloody stupid of them if they did. Lucius and a few of his pals would no doubt be waiting for them, ready to speed them on their ways to early graves. Remus's reply, which when read made her think of the ironic twist his mouth sometimes took, said only that they would meet them at the banquet.
Nym made her way downstairs, taking one final glance in the mirror to make sure she looked presentable. She'd taken the silver hair clip from its hiding place behind the molding again. She caught herself, turning back to the mirror, a frown creasing her face. Well of all the… she looked like a bloody Slytherin, dressed in these colors. They did look fine on her, that much was true but… they were the colors of Slytherin. Terrible as the Gryffindor colors would be for her complexion, but that was where her allegiance lay and not, she thought angrily with a twist of her lips that was remarkably like Narcissa's, with the likes of her extended family. Sometimes it seemed the truest family she had was the one she had adopted at Hogwarts, her elective brothers and her friends.
With a mental shrug – she looked well enough, whatever the colors might represent – she turned away from her reflection again. She was glad she'd put her foot down about the embroidery on the collar and sleeves, though. The pattern Narcissa had wanted her held an eerie resemblance to snakes. Looking thoughtfully down at her sleeves, Nym was strongly reminded of the cockatrice that had been in the castle for the challenge. Its feathers had glittered a bit like the stones that sparkled among the gold and silver thread, and the strange golden stones that that formed the clasp of the cloak she wore over her robes. She hadn't worn a hat, though Lucius had been quite insistent that one never went out to such a gathering without one. The hat made the wizard, after all. Narcissa, for a wonder, had contradicted her husband, saying that Nym was a witch, not a wizard, and hats did frightful things to a witch's hair. Besides, she'd added, few people liked them at a presentation; they had a distressing tendency to block the view, which could be considered downright rude. It had been the possibility of showing bad manners, rather than concern for Nym's appearance, that had appeared to decide her uncle. He would not make her wear her hat, but woe betide her if she put a toe out of line. There would be people he knew at the banquet, and he wouldn't have her embarrassing him.
Her hand brushed the door latch before she remembered that it didn't do to be seen waiting. Heaven forbid that she be seen as eager to see her escort. No, she must be quietly occupied in another part of the house – but not too distant as to make it difficult and time consuming to fetch her – doing some small task that so absorbed her that she could not come to greet her guest, but could naturally be dropped in a heartbeat when the approved time arrived. Looking in the mirror, fixing her hair was the traditional way to kill the time, so she had been told, although reading (or pretending to) a proper book for a young lady was also allowed. Certainly nothing useful.
Unfortunately for the poor, dead masters of etiquette that had dreamt up these unbelievably foolish rules, they had never expected to come up against one such as Nym Tonks. If she had to kill time, she would do it in a useful manner. There was no time to look up magical injuries in the library (even with Anton's help, finding things could take hours. There were, after all, fully sixty three treatises on the correct way to de-gnome a garden, and no two of them agreed.
There was plenty of time to deal with that stupid ghoul that had taken up residence in one of the upper bed chambers. Aunt Narcissa, bless her, hadn't gone up there in the week since it had arrived. Oh, she could have dealt with it easily enough, Nym was sure, but the baby was making her delicate, and she didn't want to do anything to endanger it. Or so she said, at any rate, and you simply didn't argue with Narcissa when she got a thing like that into her head. There was no way to win. Lucius, on the other hand, said he rather liked it and he thought it leant to the atmosphere. Besides, it kept people away from his things.
Nym, typically, disagreed with both of them. The ghoul was not a deterrent to anyone beyond a mid level wizard (as you had to be to pass through the third year at Hogwarts, a level that even Wormtail had managed), and tended to disturb her sleep with its bloody minded howling.
Like many people, Nym tended to get, if not angry (a proper lady never got angry, although Aunt Narcissa had chucked that urn quite forcefully at Mr. Crabbe) at least quite annoyed when she was sleep deprived. As the cause of that aggravation, the ghoul was shortly to learn that it was better off taking up residence in a small, quiet little town where the residents were not averse to strange people with unusual ways.
Nym, replaying all the times she'd had to lie with her pillow clenched over her head to drown out the beastly noises made by the ghoul, was quickly passing through the tranquil waters of 'angry' right into the middle of the boiling maelstrom of 'seriously pissed off'. She threw the door of the bedroom – spelled to open quietly, with only a single small creak to alert others that someone was sneaking around – open with a bang, causing old plaster to rain down in the bedroom.
The ghoul, apparently lacking any other response, set up a clamor, which gradually died away and, to someone listening from down the corridor (not that any one was, of course, but if someone had been there it would have been Narcissa, wondering what her niece was up to in a largely deserted part of the manor house) it would have grown to sound rather like the screaming of a frightened school girl. This observer, had they known Nym well, would have made a run for it while there was still a chance of avoiding the backlash of righteous anger. Had they not known her well, they might have assumed it was Nym screaming and, depending on their disposition, sallied forth to save her or turned away and pretend not to have heard her.
When Narcissa entered the old bedroom to tell Nym that her escort had arrived, she found the young girl standing in the middle of a demolished room, very quiet and relaxed, a thoughtful expression creasing her face. In one corner there was a quivering bit of shadow that Narcissa affected not to notice. Indeed, Narcissa could be remarkably blind when she set her mind to it, and didn't seem to see the destruction that Nym had wrecked upon the antique furniture either.
"Your young man is here," was all the comment the woman made.
Nym looked up at her aunt, surprised to find her there. "He's not my young man," was all she could think of to say. Surely her aunt would be angry at her for making such a mess.
"Well, whatever else he may be, he's waiting. Hurry along now." Nym nodded, still shocked that she had gotten off, and fled down the hallways and many flights of stairs, slowing only when her uncle, no doubt waiting in the drawing room, might hear her.
He looked up from what appeared to be an engrossing conversation (but was probably just a string of observations about the horticultural implications of the weather they had been having recently) with Rick when Nym glided, now the perfect little lady, into the room.
"Nymphadora," he said by way of greeting. "I will leave you to young Richalus." Nym curtsied, Rick bowed, Lucius nodded and left. Only then did Nym run to her friend, who caught her up in a hug.
"Jeezus, Nym, you had me scared for a second," he said, holding her tight. "Thought they'd tied you up and replaced you with some well behaved little snot."
Nym laughed, shoving him away. "Now that's a greeting for sure. What about you? You bowed, if I may remind you." She put her nose in the air in a way Narcissa was fond of doing, managing to look down on Rick even though he stood a good five inches taller than her.
Rick grinned. "When in Rome and all that jazz."
"Don't accept a free ticket to the circus? I don't follow you."
If possible, Rick's smile grew even wider. "That's my Nym." His Nym gave him a playful shot to the arm. "What say we get going?"
Nym took down the elegant Ming vase from the mantle, opening it to offer Rick a little of the glittering powder within. Taking a pinch for herself, she replaced it. With a cry of 'Ministry of Magic', Rick disappeared into the flames, Nym following on his heels. They stepped out, elegant and suave and every inch the young purebloods amongst a throng of people, all dressed in the very latest, most expensive wizarding fashions.
"I say," drawled a nasal voice behind Nym, "how simply smashing." Nym turned, an acid comment on her tongue, only to have it die on her lips. Sirius winked at her. "Glad to see you're still alive."
Nym shook off her shock and launched herself into her cousin's arms. "Paddy, you old coot, you scared me to death," she said with a laugh. "You sounded just like creepy Mr. Rookwood."
Sirius frowned. "Creepy Mr. Rookwood? And just how would you know Rookwood, girly?"
"He comes over to supper sometimes. I suppose he's friends with my uncle, or some such." Sirius nodded, seeming to digest this bit of information, but he didn't make any further comment on it, if indeed it meant anything to him.
"Come on, Moony found us a prime spot. Up on the balcony, undisturbed view…" he grinned, "hard to see from below."
From the look on Rick's face, Nym was sure he didn't know quite what to make of her cousin. "You haven't planned anything for tonight, have you?" she demanded.
Sirius shrugged nonchalantly. "You never know." He lead them up through the crowds. Nym walked behind with Rick, talking in low voices.
"This place is amazing," Rick said. "They've really outdone themselves."
Nym looked at him in surprise. "Isn't it like this often?"
"Nah. My dad says it's mostly just an empty room where they store old furniture and the like. Only dust it off a couple of times a year. But, you know, when they say 'dust it off', you don't expect anything quite so…" he struggled, looking for a word, and settled on "lavish."
Nym shrugged. "It's not so bad. Bit like the opera house in London."
"The opera house," Rick repeated. "You have changed."
Nym laughed, a bit shocked and offended. "What? No. I went on a school trip when I was, let's see, how old was I?" she mused. "Nine, maybe? We wandered around mostly, and Henry Priggins got in trouble for trying to sneak into the prima dona's dressing room." Nym didn't look at her friend while she said this, but the tension seemed to ease from the air to her right. "Is Sybil still staying with you?" she asked to change the subject.
Rick laughed. "Gone two days now, crazy bat. Mum kicked her out when she read the tea leaves."
"I thought she was doing stuff like that all the time."
"Yeah, sure. But mostly harmless stuff, you know? Some bad weather, finding a missing possession, losing some small quantity of money. Little stuff that happens all the time."
Nym nodded. It was like the horoscopes in her dad's muggle papers. He always said they could be made to apply to anyone, any day, and it was really just a matter of thinking of what things were likely to happen to a number of people within a week or so, and then phrasing them in an unclear way. "What changed?"
"Well, you know my mum's a big supporter of the Asylum for Magical Pets, right? Kneazles and Auguries and such like. Anyway, last couple of weeks she's been in raptures over this one thing, a snake called Nagini. Apparently they rescued it from somewhere it was being used in," he lowered his voice, "dark magic."
Nym shivered, an image looming in her mind of all the tomes in her uncle's library. From the dark corners of her memory the various supper guests of the summer cackled at her. Yes, she could well imagine them all using helpless creatures to work their dark magic.
"Well, mum and a few of her friends from the Asylum were having a get together. Tea and so forth, and Sybil decided to make a production of it by reading the tea leaves. You know how she always goes for the dramatic and this time she went for broke." He laughed shortly. "Popular snake, that one. Gonna be kidnapped, apparently. More likely gonna be killed by too much pampering at the Asylum." But he said it without conviction, Nym noticed, as though something was weighing on his mind. She set it aside in her mind, resolving to ask him about it once they were in a more private place. Rick laughed at Sybil's predictions and supposition that she was a seer, but at the same time he seemed to be shrinking into himself, the way people did when they said the war would soon be over with all the bravado they could muster.
Their table came into view, disappearing and reappearing as the throng of people shifted, ebbing and flowing while the assembled masses tried to find tables, friends, washrooms or a waiter with another free round. Evans and James were sitting at a round table, laughing quietly with another couple that Nym didn't recognize. She caught sight of Remus as well, his head bent while he scribbled furiously on one of the menus. It was hard to tell if he was up to mischief or some arithmancy theory.
"Nym, this is Frank and Alice Longbottom," said Sirius. The couple that had been talking to Evans and James looked up and waved hello, their smiles open and welcoming. "Frank, my darling cousin Nymphadora Tonks, light of our poor impoverished lives since you took Alice away from us." Alice, who was pretty and full of energy, but still on the plumper side of what was normally considered attractive, flushed.
Frank laughed. "Just giving the other girls a sporting chance. Though it seems no one's managed to catch any of you except James." He gave a seated bow to Lily. "My heartfelt congratulations, madam. Perhaps you will be able to protect us from his pranks." The look Evans sent James, quickly covered up, promised a serious chat about his 'pranks' when there was no one close enough to hear her scolding.
It was easy for Nym to see why the Marauders were so fond of Frank and Alice. All through dinner they kept her and Rick entertained with stories of their exploits and others'. "Just don't you follow in our example, young ones," said Frank with a wink. "You'll come to a sticky end."
"Like you?" his wife asked, mischief in her eyes.
Frank flushed brightly. "Now Ally, no need to be bringing that up." Alice's laugh said she disagreed.
"Now, Nym, Ricky, you know the way to the kitchens, don't you?" Nym nodded her ascent, Rick following a half heartbeat later. In truth, Nym doubted he knew, but everyone else here did, so perhaps he was just trying to fit in. He still didn't seem to have gotten over the shock of spending time with Potter, Black and Lupin. "Well," continued Alice, "should you ever be down there before a feast, and should you ever wish to see how they cook up those wonderful puddings do not, and I really must stress this, use a ladder so you can see over the edge of one of the giant pots."
By this time Frank was clearing his throat loudly, asking if someone could please pass the wine, or maybe the butter, or the rolls, or maybe a gag for his darling wife. "And if you absolutely must, and if, by chance, you should drop your wand in the pot, do not, under any circumstances, dive into the pudding pot after it. Is that clear?"
Nym nodded, her eyes fixed on the very red young Auror across the table from her. He fell in the pudding pot? Even she hadn't done anything so daft and damnably clumsy as that. "Honestly, Alice, it wasn't anything like that at all," Frank grumbled.
"Then how was it?" Alice's satisfied smirk grew when her husband didn't answer. She had definitely been as much trouble as Sirius and James combined, Nym thought.
After a sumptuous feast (passable, the voice that had listened to Narcissa said in Nym's head, there were only six courses after all) a portly, elderly man climbed to the podium from his seat at the head table. Nym, after flipping through Rick's copies of the Daily Prophet whenever she ate breakfast at the Hufflepuff table, knew him to be Hector Higginsworth, deputy minister of magic. Word was that the minister himself should have been here, but he was home with a nasty magical flu, and his wife had forbidden it. Higginsworth cleared his throat self-importantly, straightening his frightful little bow tie. "Good evening ladies and gentlemen," he said, and Nym prepared herself to be bored. She tuned out the man's droning voice, instead allowing her gaze to sweep the floor below them. There, at the head table, sat Professor Dumbledore, looking mildly interested, though not overly so. Beside him, Professor Prewett wore that blank look he had when Evans lectured him about the abysmal state of the school, and how he ought to do something about it. On Dumbledore's other side was, according to Rick, the editor of the Daily Prophet and his wife, both looking like they'd only shown up to impress people (and failed, added Narcissa's voice nastily).
Nym's attention snapped back to the deputy minister when she heard him say 'Professor Gideon Prewett, deputy headmaster of Hogwarts', which was answered by a wave of clapping. Idly, Nym wondered why Professor Prewett was being introduced, when the headmaster himself was sitting at the table as well. Dumbledore didn't seem to go in for long, rambling speeches the way Higginsworth did, but he was certainly not averse to speaking in front of a crowd. Prewett, Nym was very much afraid, might wander off into his eternal day dream again.
Professor Prewett, when he reached the podium, looked at it, then the crowd, a bit helplessly. "I'm sorry," he said, with the faintest of smiles, "my mind must have wandered. What am I here to talk about?"
There was some laugher, and from somewhere up front a voice called, "Give it up, Prewett, you can't fool us."
Prewett fixed the speaker with a piercing gaze, then sighed. "You're right of course, Jones, I never could fool you. You always did know better than me, especially when it came to changing exploding dung bombs into birds." More laugher greeted this remark, this time uninterrupted by any annoyed (and annoying) young wizards. "Right then, the Challenge." Prewett looked a little lost again, but rallied himself. "Well, most of you know at least some of the challenges competitors faced, so I won't bother with that. I would like to make note of something that was brought to the attention of the judges by Professor Dumbledore." Silence greeted this. Dumbledore was, even according to those who knew and respected him, something of a crazy old bat, who came up with the oddest, and at times most inconvenient, things. "In the Challenge, competitors were asked to find a treasure. Well, according to Professor Dumbledore, since there was more than one treasure, and 'treasure' was never defined, it is quite plausible that someone could have brought back a piece of gravel and have it considered a valid entry." His mild smile took in the hushed, frantic whisperings that had sprung up around the hall.
"Dumbledore probably wrote that to a purpose," Jones yelled out.
Prewett shrugged happily. "I merely thought I'd bring that to your notice. It is very difficult to judge," he added dryly, "when ninety percent of the treasures brought back are an identical wooden treasure chest."
Dumbledore stood, replacing Prewett at the podium. Prewett took his seat again, leaning back and apparently falling asleep. "There are, however, three exceptions to this. But first, the honorable mention. This year, I am pleased to present this award," he indicated a smiling young witch bearing a mounted plaque, "to that team which best procured the treasure chest." It seemed to Nym, when Professor Dumbledore leaned forward with the slightest of smiles, that this presentation was very like the American awards shows that she'd watched on the television with her grandmother. "Would the captain of the team from the Daily Prophet please come forward." A storm of applause greeted this announcement.
"Probably because they finally lost," Rick hissed in Nym's ear, grinning. "Father was threatening dire things if they won again, stuck up prigs." At Nym's shocked look, he grinned wider. "He's the Chief of Cursebreakers for Gringotts." Nym nodded knowingly. Of course. She wondered what Rick would say if she told him her dream to join the Auror's college, especially if he decided to become a curse breaker like his father. Well, that was years in the future. She'd worry about it then.
With a somewhat fixed smile, the captain from the Daily Prophet went on stage to collect the plaque for his team. When he'd made his way back down to his table, amid a hiss of conversation and speculation over who the third team that beat the Prophet could have been, more vacantly smiling young witches appeared bearing plaques and envelopes.
"Third place, for having found the magic mirror in the tower of the castle…"
"See?" Sirius hissed to Remus. "And you wanted to go up."
"Bet the treasure chest was down," Remus returned.
"… goes to the Auror's College." More cheers, though not so many this time, it seemed. Perhaps because it was taken for granted that the Auror's College and Gringotts would both be in the top three. Now people wanted to know who the third team was.
Now the full team went on stage to collect their plaques, and the gift certificates to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Looking at the rather threadbare dress robes of the young Aurors, Frank among them, Nym decided they had probably done quite well for themselves with that gift. Student Auror's obviously had a hard time fitting in work to earn money, and many of them (except Frank, who had Alice to look after him) seemed in need of a few good meals like the one they had just enjoyed with gusto.
"Our runner up this year, with a Chalice of Health from the dining room…"
"There you are, James. Straight wasn't right either."
"Shut up, Paddy. We already know left was the right one."
"Left was right…"
"Shut up, Paddy!"
"… the Curse Breaker's of Gringotts!" Again, the gift that went with the plaques seemed to have been chosen just for the recipients. Large magical medi-kits, provided by St. Mungo's with a 'maybe it would be best if they just lived in the hospital full time', were handed out to general laughter.
"You know what this means, don't you?" Sirius asked, suddenly unable to keep his voice down. It didn't matter anyway, as noise flooded in around them; congratulations for the Gringotts team, speculation over the identities of the winners, general chatter. "It means we won! First time through and we won!"
James didn't seem able to tell his best friend to shut up. "You know what this means, boys? Scholarships right into the Auror's College. Bet they let us in without even trying the entrance exams!"
Even Remus was talking excitedly. "Twelve years old, and you got through, Nym. That's my master's thesis right there. Only imagine what I can get you to do by the time you graduate!"
Evans looked about her, shocked. "Are you telling me that you four…" she switched tracks suddenly. "Are you telling me that you three took an eleven year old into that death trap?"
The boys stopped chatting, shooting surprised and furtive looks between themselves and Nym. "She's twelve, hun," James offered at last.
"James Potter, don't you…"
Alice over rode her, smiling slightly. "Relax, Lil. You always did get overwrought over trifles. Nym came through fine, and probably better off for it."
Evans sighed, the anger draining from her visibly. "Alice, what am I to do with them?" Alice just laughed, directing her attention back towards the stage.
Dumbledore was holding his hands up for silence. "I know you are all very excited to meet our champions this year, but first I would like you to meet a very dear friend of mine. I have the very great pleasure of introducing Doctor Phineas Richtus, head of the Faculty of Experimental Magics at the National Academy of Magic in Zurich."
From the head table came a stooped old man, his white hair flying all about his parchment face. Thick glasses were perched atop his head, catching the light from the array of torches and glowing globes. He smiled absently at the crowd while pulling a folded piece of parchment – his speech no doubt – from his robes, then patted his head distractedly, searching for his glasses. At last, having discovered them, he put them on and peered at the parchment.
"Doctor Richtus!" Remus whispered excitedly. "Can you imagine? The only living wizard besides Dumbledore to have his own Chocolate Frog card."
That, Nym felt, qualified some awe. Obviously, you needed to be a rather important person to have a chocolate frog card. Without that knowledge, though, the man down on the podium would have inspired little awe. He seemed the sort that would forever be found hidden among tall shelves, searching out some forgotten spell. He certainly didn't seem the sort to undertake the dangerous and harrowing business of experimental magic.
"Ah yes," the man said, his voice a dry parchment rasp that complimented his skin. "I'm very honored to be here before you today, of course. Very honored indeed. Very fortunate too. If it weren't for a remarkable discovery by a young researcher in my department, why, I wouldn't be here at all, and Mr. Higginson would be making this presentation instead of me." There were some muffled cheers, as the assembled crowd assured the doctor that he was a most welcome replacement. "My young student, who as I said made this most remarkable discovery, unfortunately could not be here with us tonight, but she sends her regards to all present, and her heartfelt thanks to this year's champions. For you see, my friends, our champions this year procured a very rare magical ingredient, very rare indeed. So rare, in fact, that it has never been properly tested. And, lo, when the judges sent this article to me for testing, what should my student discover, but that it had a powerful effect on the potion she was developing."
Across the table from Nym, Remus fidgeted. "Alright?" James demanded quietly.
"Not until tomorrow," Remus hissed back, forcing himself with a visible effort to remain still. What on earth? Nym wondered, before noticing the gibbous moon that shone through the tall windows of the ball room. Another day and he would not have been able to come, Nym thought, struck anew by the plight that assailed her friend.
"You see…" he paused, looking at Dumbledore. "Can I tell them? Splendid. Now, there is not much known about cockatrices," he said, assuming a lecturing tone so like Remus's that Nym could only stare. "But legends have said that they have powerful transformational properties. Nothing has been proved up until now, you understand, because magic does not, in a general way, affect them. No, even less than dragons, I'm afraid. However, our champions succeeded in procuring a feather from a cockatrice – a fine specimen, I might add – which we have since analyzed and tested. I am pleased to inform everyone present tonight that this feather provided the final ingredient for that potion on which I and a number of my students have been laboring for many years. Yes, that one," he added, when a murmur sprang up through the crowd. Nym saw Remus lean forward, staring at the doctor intently. The old man raised his voice. "I am pleased to announce that, as of now, we have indeed perfected the Wolfsbane potion." The cheer that erupted through the assembled wizards could have drowned out any of the previous applause with ease.
Remus sat back, a shocked and happy smile on his face. "Remus," Nym asked quietly, trying to make herself heard without allowing anyone to overhear, "what's the Wolfsbane potion?"
Still smiling, Remus leaned closer to her. The light glinted ominously off his teeth. "It keeps werewolves safe. In theory, they'll retain their human minds even in their wolf state."
He got no further, because the doctor, with a little magical aid, was calling for quiet. "And now," he said, in the hush that filled the hall, "I would like to call down the four young people who made this possible."
"Let's go," Sirius hissed, grabbing James and pulling him away from the table. Remus and Nym followed quickly, slipping away through the darkened balcony towards the stairs as the doctor continued without naming them, citing his amazement at their prowess, insight, and his gratitude at their fortuitous discovery. Sirius stopped them on the landing of the stairs. No doubt he had a grand entrance planned.
"I would like to ask the Marauders to come forward and accept the prize for this challenge, as well as the recognition they so rightly deserve."
And then they were walking down a thick red carpet, the only light in the place focused on the four of them, cheers and whispering echoing all around them. Nym walked as in a daze, not ready to accept the truth of what was happening. In a year she'd gone from not even knowing she was a witch to be a champion in a magical challenge.
Doctor Richtus was beaming at them as they approached, happiness radiating from every plane of his weathered face. Nym felt his eyes seek her out, assessing her before moving on. They seemed to fasten on Remus the longest, as though the doctor could read the young man's secret in his face. Whether he could or not, he was quite overwrought by the time they reached the stage. "My young friends," he cried, hastening forward and embracing each of them in turn, to Nym's mortification. "You cannot begin to understand what you have done for the wizarding world." He seemed to look pointedly at Remus here, but it could have been Nym's nerves making her paranoid.
Slowly the crowd settled down, waiting to see what fabulous prizes the champions would receive. Thus far each team had received something that seemed tailored to them, but there was nothing to distinguish the four young people up on stage.
First came the witches, bearing their plaques. Nym took hers carefully, staying well away from the young beauty that grimaced and flashed her teeth at the cameras, making expansive gestures like a game show hostess.
"Ahem." Doctor Richtus cleared his throat. "First, to Mr. Remus Lupin, the National Academy of Magic is pleased to extend a full scholarship to study with us for as long as he likes." The crowd erupted – which seemed to be their only purpose tonight, cheering on the contestants and getting caught up in the general excitement – almost drowning out his next words. "We hope that he will stay with us to do post graduate work." Nym thought she saw tears in Remus's eyes as he went to shake the doctor's hand. James, Sirius and Nym whooped excitedly, pounding Remus on the back. Of course it was what he had wanted. Nym only thought with a slight shiver of all the years ahead of her as a test subject for his teaching stratagems.
"Next, to Misters James Potter and Sirius Black, the Auror's college has kindly extended unconditional acceptance, and full scholarships for their two years of study, provided," he gave a dry chuckle, "that they compete in the challenge on behalf of the College." There was some laughter at that, and some hisses from the supporters of the Gringott's team. No doubt they had hoped to recruit the boys for themselves.
"And finally, Miss Nymphadora Tonks." The doctor smiled at her in what Nym felt to be a rather patronizing way, but she was too happy to care very much. Besides, he could be forgiven for being old. "If I may say, we have never had a champion younger than fifteen before and so Miss Tonks, in addition to being truly exceptional, has put us in a unique position. Miss Tonks, to you the Ministry gives one thousand galleons in prize money."
Nym smiled, though truth be told she was just the littlest bit disappointed. The boys had all received what they wanted. Giving her money seemed to say they weren't quite sure what to do with her.
But the doctor wasn't finished. "And, the Auror's College, Gringott's Curse-breaking department, and St. Mungo's hospital have all offered you unconditional acceptance upon your graduation from Hogwarts. Of course," he added quietly, when a now elated Nym came forward to shake his hand, "the National Academy would never dream of turning you away, should you wish to make your home with us." He pressed an envelope into her hands. "A little something from our faculty." He winked, then turned to finish his speech to the crowd.