Chapter 1: Chocolate Pudding and Wolfsbane Potion

"Name?"

"Tonks."

"Full name?"

"You bloody already know my name."

"Full. Name."

"Ugh, fine. Nymphadora Vulpecula Tonks. Happy?"

"You know I'm not, missy. Position?"

"Auror."

"Sex?"

"Oh Moody, I'm flattered, really, but I'm just not interested in you that—"

"Blast it. Gender?"

"Oh, come on! You know all this already! It's in my file, which you wrote!"

"We've got to play by the rules here. So, female. Status?"

"Annoyed."

"Tonks, I'm warning you!"

"Alright, alright! Half-blood."

"And?"

"…werewolf."

The voices cut off suddenly as Dumbledore seemed to notice his guest lingering in the doorway to the headmaster's office. The conversation had been coming from his wand but stopped when he tapped the wood with a thin fingertip.

"Good evening, Remus, please come in. I was not sure if you would be available to meet with me tonight on such short notice."

Though Remus Lupin had been in the headmaster's office more times than he could count as a student and now as a professor, he never outgrew the urge to pick up the gold and whirring instruments or flip through the books tucked around the room. This was a place where deep thoughts were explored and problems solved. He could almost sense the answers to all his questions, both complex and trivial, dancing in the air like feathers, taunting him to just reach out and grab hold if he dared.

He moved through the room until he stood before the grand desk and chose one of the plush seats before it, the same one he had sat in as a reluctant troublemaker, as a prefect, and then as a proud new member of the Hogwarts faculty. Yet, Dumbledore remained almost the same, always quietly reflective and gently amused though the longer Lupin knew the headmaster, the more he sensed a deep sorrow beneath the surface.

"May I offer you a peppermint humbug, Remus?"

"No thank you, Professor, I admit I had my fill at dinner this evening."

"Ah yes, I recall your fondness for the house elves' chocolate pudding. I do not blame you in the slightest."

Lupin looked up into Dumbledore's eyes. They never failed to make him feel as though he were being examined by someone who operated on a much higher, deeper level than himself. Though not cold or unkind, those blue eyes reminded you just how much you didn't know. At that moment, Dumbledore regarded him with an unreadable expression.

"Your note said it was an urgent matter," Remus prompted.

"Yes, indeed it is."

"Is it regarding my request for ways I could be of service over the summer holidays?"

"In a sense, Remus. You see, I have been in contact with Auror Shacklebolt and former Auror Moody. Both of these gentlemen have been investigating potential recruits for the Order at the Ministry for some time now in case my hunch proves correct and Voldemort makes a move soon. We need to build relationships with people who are critical of the Ministry's message and are amenable to our goals before the storm hits. Particularly after losing so many brave and brilliant souls in the last war." They were both quiet for a moment, unconsciously leaving room for the fallen spirits they had known, lost in the memory of names and faces of those who were alive now only in dreams.

So many good people gone. So many lives destroyed. Lupin's hands tightened on his knees.

Dumbledore continued, "Miss Tonks, whose voice you just heard, was one of the potential recruits they identified. Young, eager, and with a talent for defensive magic that rivals your own, both Kingsley and Alastor put her at the top of their lists. That is, until a week ago when she was attacked by a werewolf while on assignment for the Ministry."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Dumbledore. How old was she?"

"Was? Oh no, Remus, you misunderstand me. Miss Tonks is very much alive. The conversation between herself and Alastor you overheard took place this morning at St. Mungo's as a part of her re-evaluation for Ministry service. He sent it to me as evidence of her…willfulness, shall we say, which he says proves she would still be a good candidate for the Order and her new status may even prove uniquely useful to us if Voldemort's plans echo those he made before."

"I still don't understand what this has to do with me, Professor."

"I would like you to go to where she is staying and offer yourself as a mentor. I realize this task will be challenging for you, Remus, given your personal history, but I assure you I would not ask it of you if I did not think you could provide genuine help based on your expertise."

"What is the goal, sir? For me to convince her to join our side? I don't want to take advantage of her while she's in a vulnerable state."

"I would not want for you to do so either. No, what I hope is by providing her with the resources, support, and knowledge she needs in a time when the rest of the Wizarding world may be turning against her, we may be able to save a soul in the process. You remember how it was then. You know how easy it was to let the darkness take over oneself. For those of our community who are already relegated to the fringes, perhaps we can provide an unexpected spot of light. Perhaps we may be able to demonstrate what is possible when an individual is valued and respected rather than tossed away by society."

Remus hesitated and his conflicting feelings must have shown in his face because Dumbledore spoke again. "I will of course accept your refusal, based on how this may remind you of the unfortunate circumstances around your sister's death. I will not lose esteem for you in the least, Remus. You are not the only one who carries such guilt."

"She sounded…" He fought for the right word—unprofessional? Naïve? "Inexperienced."

"I assure you she is thoroughly vouched for. She graduated from Hogwarts four years ago and went directly into the Auror Academy. Alastor was her mentor and I need not remind you the stringent education he can provide."

"Still, she's young."

"Yes, and also no. You yourself joined the war when you were younger than her and hardly had the training she has undergone. You and your friends certainly didn't let that stop you." Yes, he thought, and look how we wound up.

When Remus still hesitated, the headmaster inclined his head forward over his long, steepled fingers. "I confess I was never a talented Divination student, but I very much doubt history will repeat itself. Miss Tonks is not your sister and you are no longer the frightened young boy you were."

Those piercing blue eyes regarded him until he had to turn his gaze out the window at the inky blackness beyond. That's the crux of the matter, isn't it? Would he choose fear, or could he choose to hope that things could be different—that he could be different?

Remus let out a breath he realized he had been holding and his shoulders lost some of their tension.

Dumbledore must have sensed his surrender because the older man added, in an amused tone, "Oh, and perhaps I can allay another one for your fears. While Miss Tonks may not be physically up to snuff at the moment, I would not worry yourself overmuch she will be merely… What do the Muggles say? Ah yes, I believe it is putty in your hands. She is currently staying with her family with whom you share a mutual connection. And I would advise against underestimating the stubbornness of the Tonks women, something your mutual friend can attest to."

((((()))))

"How is she?" asked Moody as he stepped through the fireplace, not even bothering to dust himself off.

A regal woman, crowned by thick dark hair and haughty eyes, regarded him with hands on hips. "How do you think, Mad-Eye? She was bitten by a werewolf last week! We're lucky the healers at St. Mungo's even let us take her home today." Her frustration was palpable in the air and only served to reinforce how much she resembled her sister, Bellatrix Lestrange. The imposing aura of Andromeda Tonks, formerly Black, was somewhat diminished however by the round, congenial man at her side who shook Moody's hand as he spoke.

"Hello, Alastor. Good to see you again, though obviously not under these circumstances."

"Ted," the ex-Auror acknowledged, his enchanted eye whizzing around to take in his surroundings while the conversation continued in the Tonks' tidy sitting room. Mad-Eye Moody rarely looked like he belonged in any situation not involving the destruction of dark wizards but he appeared especially out of place in this pleasant shrine to domesticity with his stained leather duster and watchful gaze contrasting with the carefully arranged photographs on the walls.

Ted Tonks continued, "We appreciate you stopping by. Dora's recovering as well as can be expected. The healers will visit every day for a while and if there are any changes, we are to send an owl to them immediately and leave the house after casting all the locking spells we can think of on every opening. You can imagine the telling off Andie gave them when they suggested that."

Moody nodded approvingly.

"Andie's been perfecting her Wolfsbane potion technique under the assistance of the St. Mungo's potion's master. It's bloody useful she got her N.E.W.T. in Potions since I barely made it to O.W.L.s. So, I'm working on my healing spells. Learned a few new tricks that would've been right useful when Dora was growing up. 'Sides that, just doing what we can, I 'spose. I'd offer you tea, but Dora told us you never drink anything you're given now. At least we can offer you a seat." Ted gestured to the settee facing the fireplace and Moody sat down after giving the cushions and patterned upholstery a thorough once-over.

The father of Moody's protégé sat beside him, folding his hands amicably, but her mother was pacing, clearly working her way into a speech.

"Spit it out, Andromeda," barked Moody. Not many people could withstand the glare she shot at him and live to tell the tale, but he was as tough as an old boot and had known the middle daughter of Cygnus and Druella Black since she'd been disowned and willing to spill secrets about the Sacred Twenty-Eight pureblood families during the first war. While Aurors' names may have been written on many Azkaban prisoners' arrest warrants, it was Andromeda they could truly thank for their stolen freedom. Therefore, it was with respect and trepidation Alastor Moody regarded the fuming woman before him.

"Alright, Moody, I'll spit it out…" she hissed. "Nymphadora, my Nymphadora! You promised me, you swore to me, that you would protect her. You were supposed to put her on paperwork duty, not let her run around the country blasting shadows with her wand like the rest of you adrenaline-crazed imbeciles! I trusted you, Moody."

"Darling," Ted intervened, "there was only so much he could do."

Snarling, Moody spat back, "I'm going to say this again, because it apparently needs repeating, Andromeda. Your daughter is a blasted Auror. Danger comes with the job. If it didn't, we wouldn't be needed in the first place. Besides, you know I've officially been put to pasture so no use blaming me." He chugged a swig from his flask and repocketed it.

Like any decent dueler, his opponent changed tack to put him off-guard.

"What happened exactly?"

"No one knows what went wrong that night—we're still trying to untangle it."

"While you're untangling it, Mad-Eye, I'm patching my daughter back together. Was it a targeted attack?"

"We don't know yet."

"Why wasn't her partner with her when the attack occurred?"

"We don't know that either."

"Have they found the werewolf responsible for biting her?"

"I'm not privy to that information yet."

"Well then what do you know, Moody?"

"We know the ministry isn't happy. They may choose to throw her under the thestral and let her take all the heat. It's an easy sell—a young, inexperienced Auror already known for being unorthodox goes into a situation wand-blazing where she's in over her head. She gets hurt, it's her fault. In any case, they're still going to want to keep it quiet. Ted, if you have any contacts at the Prophet or discrete colleagues at the WWN, I'd start sending a few owls out now to keep your ear to the ground. So far, it's still small: us, the healers, Kingsley, Scrimgeour, most likely Fudge, his Senior Under-Secretary Umbridge, and Dumbledore. But that's too many already for my liking."

This time Ted spoke. "Dumbledore? How did he find out?"

"I told him."

"Alastor, why would her old headmaster need to know she was bitten?"

Moody stood and stretched, leaving behind an imprint of soot on the recently spotless cushion. "You and I know that Dumbledore is more than just an elevated professor. If you're in a tight spot, there's no one else you're going to want more on your side. Especially times being what they are. And by the looks of things, your daughter's in a very tight spot."

His magical eye fixed on the floor above while Ted and Andromeda exchanged significant looks.

"It's happening again, isn't it, Moody?" she asked, her hand seeking her husband's shoulder instinctively.

Before he could answer, a voice called from the top of the stairs. "Wotcher, Mad-Eye!"

"Daft lass," growled the ex-Auror at the same time Andromeda shouted, "Nymphadora Tonks you get back in bed this instant!" and Ted called out, "Wotcher, Dora!"

A young woman appeared on the steps, rolling her eyes at all three of them. She wore loose pajamas, a cheeky smile, and the edges of several layers of bandages appeared at the neckline of her shirt. "Mum, I've told you if I stay in that room all day I'll go barking. I'm fine to walk around a bit. 'Sides, I got peckish."

"You could have sent a note," sighed her mother.

"Yeah, but then I wouldn't have known Moody was checking in on me like a mother hen so it's worth it. Glad to know you care, Mad-Eye."

He grunted, "Just stopped by to check the security perimeter on my way to a meeting."

"You're a bloody liar but alright. Give me another week and I'll be good as new, maybe you can help me retrain a bit so I can get back in the field sooner." All three older adults in the room exchanged looks with each other but before another word could be said, an alarm when off somewhere in the kitchen.

"Come, Nymphadora," said Andromeda, "time to take your pain potions." The two women went up the stairs, bickering all the while. Tonks paused at the top to yell back down, "See you tomorrow, you big softie!" at her old mentor.

Moody spoke first when there was no longer a danger of being overheard. "It hasn't fully hit her yet, has it?"

Ted merely sighed in response.

"Listen," the battle-scarred old warrior whispered, "Dumbledore is going to send someone who can help her soon. Someone who knows what it's like. He won't look like much, but he's a good man. Trust him."

"The world must really be going to the dogs if the infamous Mad-Eye is telling me to trust someone," Ted joked half-heartedly.

"But always have—"

"Constance vigilance, yes, Alastor. I remember."

"Can't be too careful these days. Anyway, best be off. And Ted…don't let her do anything foolish."

"Which one?"

"Both." He took another swig from his flask.

"By the way, you've got 12 knuts and a sickle in your couch. And an old key," Mad-Eye Moody called over his shoulder as he stepped into the fire, causing Ted to reach in between the cushions muttering, "I was wondering where that went…"