AN: Look at all these updates! What is even going on?
Eagle-eyed readers will realise I've inserted an extra calendar day into Harry's birthday week. This is in keeping with the calendar created by the wonderful Harry Potter Lexicon, which closely follows Ms Rowling's series.
Disclaimer: I'm still not J.K. Rowling, but I am the owner of my own imagination.
Trigger Warning: Mild scenes of violence ahead.
Chapter Eight
The Past and The Present
Sunday, August 4th, 1991
"Do you really have a scar?"
"Is it true you were raised as a Muggle?"
"Do you remember what You-Know-Who looks like?"
"FRED!"
Harry tried not to laugh as Mrs Weasley marched Fred and George into the kitchen to lay the table, warning that they had better not place farting cushions on all the chairs like last time.
The Weasleys – a large family composed entirely of redheads – had invited him, Remus and Kingsley over for Sunday lunch. Since their arrival, the twins had been bombarding him with questions about every aspect of his life.
Ron waited until his mother left the room and leaned towards Harry. "Sorry about that. Mum told us not to be nosy, but, well, you're you, so…"
"I guess I am," Harry said awkwardly. "You can ask whatever you want though, I don't mind."
Ron looked surprised. "Really? Er…okay. Is it true you have a…" He stopped.
"What?"
Ron's ears had gone a little red and he peered out the door to make sure his mother was still in the kitchen. "You know…a scar?"
"Oh! Yeah, I do."
Harry pushed back his fringe to reveal the lightning-bolt on his forehead.
"Whoa," Ron said, staring, "So, that's where You-Know-Who…you know…"
"I suppose. Loads of people in The Leaky Cauldron kept staring at it though, which was a bit weird."
"If it helps, people stare at my Aunt Muriel too. I think that's 'cos of her moustache, though..."
Harry had a feeling he was going to like Ron. Kingsley's head appeared around the door.
"Lunchtime, you two."
They followed him into the kitchen, where Remus was talking to Mr Weasley, his words drowned out by the loud chattering of the Weasley brood. Ginny smiled at Harry, and then turned bright red and hid behind her mother.
"Ah, here he is now," Mr Weasley said, smiling broadly. "We were just talking about you, Harry – how unique your situation is."
"My situation?" Harry asked, slightly distracted by the lunch spread. A large hunk of roast beef sat in the middle of the table, flanked by a platter of crispy roast potatoes, a large bowl of buttery peas, steaming chunks of carrots and parsnips, and a small mountain of freshly-baked bread rolls.
"Oh yes," Mr Weasley continued, oblivious. "Being from a wizarding family, and raised by a wizard, but thinking you were a Muggle the entire time. Utterly unique, I'd say!" He pushed his glasses back up his nose and gestured for them to take a seat at the table. "How are you transitioning, do you think?"
"Er…"
Remus caught his eye and smiled, before turning to Mr Weasley. "He's doing very well, Arthur. As we knew he would."
"Honestly," Kingsley said, as he helped himself to the roast potatoes, "He's doing far better than Remus and I did when we tried to learn all about Muggles."
"Why did you have to learn about Muggles?" Percy asked.
"Well, we had to pass off as them – Remus especially – so Harry wouldn't be suspicious." He passed the potatoes to Fred.
"The amount of research we had to do into football alone," Remus said, "learning all the rules, the differences between the teams and leagues, etc. That took a year, at least."
"You needn't have bothered with that one, Remus," Harry said, "I don't really like football."
Remus blinked, holding the pea spoon aloft. "Excuse me?"
"Well, it's kind of boring."
The two men turned to one another, wide-eyed, while the rest of the table erupted into laughter.
"All those football clubs we investigated."
"Not to mention the matches we watched."
"And that time you started a pub brawl with a bunch of Chelsea fans."
Harry nearly choked on a parsnip.
"Why must you always bring that up?" Kingsley said, scowling, "And I didn't start it."
"Yes you did," Remus said, smacking Harry on the back as he continued to cough, "And I bring it up because five years later, it's still funny."
Kingsley scowled and flicked a pea at his friend, bowing his head when Mrs Weasley admonished him.
"Anyway, we wanted to choose a good team for you to support, so we did our research. We made a lot of charts."
"So many charts," Remus echoed. "We had player statistics, win averages –"
"– not to mention all the books we read."
"Talk Footy to Muggles was one of my favourites."
"I liked Muggle Sports Chants and How to Sing Them Like a True Fan."
"How unique!" Mr Weasley cried, almost knocking the bowl of peas off the table with his elbow. "Do you still have those?"
Harry was caught somewhere between laughter and shock. "You really went to all that trouble?"
Kingsley laughed, slapping Remus on the shoulder. "It wasn't only the football; Remus researched everything to do with Muggles. You should have seen him – he had stacks of books on his desk, lists and photographs plastered over every inch of his office. He even picked the brains of criminals he brought in."
"Hey, some of them had valuable insights!" Remus said, giving Kingsley a shove. The other man only laughed harder.
"That's true." He grinned at Harry. "When you got that vomiting bug when you were, what, seven –"
"Six," Remus corrected.
"Right, you were six, and he couldn't convince you eat anything for a week. We'd arrested this little old lady who looked as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth – turned out she was selling bracelets to Muggles that had Cheering Charms cast on them."
"Spells that make you really, really happy," Remus informed Harry. "Sometimes they don't wear off Muggles, and the excessive smiling can cause serious damage to the facial muscles."
"It's not an offence that carries a hefty prison sentence, but it's still illegal. Anyway, she started going on about her two grand nieces, and how she was just trying to cheer them up as they were both sick."
"Which was utter bollocks because she had been selling the bracelets to tourists down South Bank for weeks."
"Anyway, Remus here sensed his opportunity and he told her he would recommend leniency at sentencing if she could tell him what a sick child was most likely to eat."
Harry could well imagine Remus, calm and business-like, discussing the merits of various broths. The man in question was rolling his eyes as the rest of the table snickered at him.
"And I kept my word – I recommended three months in the Ministry cells and a hefty fine."
"Yeah, but you also left Mad-Eye alone with her for ten minutes," Kingsley said, wiping his eyes, "She looked ready to pass out; Dawlish and Savage had to carry her out of the office!"
Everyone laughed and the twins broke into applause.
"Why is he called Mad-Eye, your boss?" Harry asked.
"Are you joking?" Fred and George asked.
"Is it not a bit obvious?" Kingsley said.
"He's never seen his face properly," Remus told him.
Kingsley slapped a hand to his forehead. "Of course he hasn't!"
"There was a picture of Moody in the Prophet this morning," Ron said, "He was giving a press conference, or something."
"It was about the recent rise of dark objects throughout Britain," Percy said, "Honestly, Ronald, it wouldn't kill you to read the paper every now and then."
Ron glowered at his brother and muttered, "Smarmy git," but only so Harry could hear him. Percy fished out The Daily Prophet from a nearby stack of letters and handed it to Harry, who was just getting used to moving photographs. On the cover was a large black and white photo, featuring a formidable looking man with grizzled hair and only half a nose. However, his eyes were even more distinctive; one was small, dark and beady, while the other was large and spun in every direction as he spoke. Mad-Eye seemed a very fitting name indeed.
"How did he lose his eye?" Harry asked.
"Oh, you don't want to know," Kingsley replied, looking grim, "Unless you want to lose your lunch, that is."
(-)(-)(-)
Later in the afternoon, Harry and the Weasley brood escaped to the back garden, where the redheads were explaining the rules of Quidditch to their new friend. The adults sat on the porch, sipping wine and watching as the twins began an argument over which Beater on the Holyhead Harpies was better.
Remus felt lighter than he had done in years. Harry finally knew the truth and miraculously had accepted and embraced it. Every day, Remus had introduced him to new aspects of the wizarding world: travelling by Floo, wizard chess, the most popular wizarding rock bands, and some basic spells that Harry could practice.
But nothing seemed to faze the boy; he soaked it all up like a sponge. In fact, Remus had walked into the kitchen one morning to find him poring over Hogwarts: A History. (Despite Remus's efforts, Harry had never been much of a bookworm, so this moment had been cause for jubilant pancake-making).
Remus didn't think he had ever been prouder of his godson. He watched the boys toss the Quaffle around. Maybe he could take Harry to a Quidditch game; after all, if he took after James, he might wind up playing for his house team...
Kingsley's deep voice brought him out of his thoughts. "I'd better get going."
"You don't sound overly thrilled," Arthur observed.
Kingsley heaved a dramatic sigh. "The European Magical Law Enforcement Conference is really not something to get excited about – you stick a couple hundred paranoid Aurors and Hit Wizards in a room and listen to them brag about the various ways they've almost died. I'll be lucky if I don't strangle someone by the end of it." He shook Arthur's hand and kissed Molly on the cheek. "Molly, thank you for an absolutely wonderful lunch. I'll be dreaming about this while eating hotel food for the next two days."
Molly beamed at him, and Kingsley bent down to ruffle Remus's hair.
"See you Wednesday, darling."
"Yeah, yeah, sod off sweetheart," Remus said. With a wave to the kids, Kingsley strode off to the apparition point.
Chuckling, Remus sat back in his chair again and looked over at Ginny, who was sitting on the porch steps, staring longingly at the group of boys.
"Why don't you go and join them, Gin?" he said.
Ginny shrugged. "They don't want to play with me," she muttered, picking a blade of grass from her shorts.
"Well, boys can be a little bit stupid."
Remus glanced over at Molly and Arthur, who were discussing their latest gnome infestation, and then leaned forward.
"I think you should show them just how good you are," he whispered to Ginny, "Don't you agree? After all, you and I both know you're better on a broom than any of them."
Ginny chewed her bottom lip, but she nodded, a grin spreading across her freckled face. Only Remus knew that she occasionally broke into the family broom shed when her brothers weren't around and 'borrowed' their brooms to practice on.
"True," she whispered back. Taking a deep breath, she climbed to her feet, tossed her long hair back and strode across the garden as though marching into battle.
Remus sat back in his chair, half-listening to Arthur and Molly's conversation. He would never admit it to them, but of all the Weasley children, Ginny was his favourite. Despite being the youngest in a family of rowdy boys, she was fierce, sharp as Gryffindor's sword and extremely funny. And although she was very much her own person, she reminded him greatly of another…
(-)(-)(-)
September, 1971
"Do people really stay up on these things?" Lily said, eyeing the broom, "They don't look very stable."
"Of course they do," Remus said, "It's magic. C'mon, give it a go."
They had both missed their first flying lesson – due to Peeves locking them in an empty classroom for an hour – so Madam Hooch had given them time to practice on Saturday morning. Provided they didn't actually fly, of course.
"Go on, Lil – you can do it."
Lily tossed her long hair back and held her hand over the broom. "Up." The broom didn't move an inch. She gritted her teeth and tried again: "Up!"
This time the broom gave a little wiggle on the ground, before lying still. Lily rolled her eyes and let her hand fall to her side.
"Whatever, I don't think I'd like flying anyway." She didn't sound overly convinced as she eyed Remus's broom, which was currently hovering beside him and poking him in the ribs as it waited for him to mount it.
"Don't give up just yet," Remus said. "You have to believe that you can do it." He gently grabbed Lily's shoulders and moved her to stand in front of her broom. "Just imagine the broom is an extension of you – just another limb of your body that you're in control of."
Lily arched an eyebrow. "It's just a piece of wood, RJ."
"Just try, will you. I won't tell anybody if nothing happens. Promise."
Lily sighed, stared down at the broom for a moment, and then screwed up her face in determination. "UP!"
The broom shot up into her hand so fast that she stumbled into Remus, who just about managed to keep them both upright. Shrieking with delight, Lily did a little dance, waving her broom above her head.
"I thought you didn't care about flying," Remus laughed.
Lily stuck her tongue out at him, but kept dancing. Behind her, three Gryffindor boys strode across the lawn towards the lake.
"Hey Remus," James called, and Sirius waved. Peter gave him a nod, as he struggled to keep up with the other two.
Remus waved back. Lily rolled her eyes and turned her back on them.
"I don't see why you're so nice to that lot," she said, "Potter and Black are nothing more than arrogant toerags."
"They're not so bad when they're not trying to show off. And I can't exactly not talk to them – we sleep in the same dorm!"
"Maybe they're nice to you, but you've seen how they treat Severus."
Remus sighed. "I know. I just really wish you could all get along."
Lily opened her mouth and promptly closed it again, shaking her head. "You're too kind for your own good, RJ. Some people just don't deserve it." She glanced at the three boys, who had turned from the lake and were now making their way towards the forest instead.
"Just because others aren't kind, doesn't mean we shouldn't be," Remus replied.
His friend smiled. "You know, you sound very old at times."
"Well, I'll never see ten again." Remus sighed, dramatically, and Lily laughed. Shouldering their brooms, they made their way towards the shed to return them.
"By the way," Lily said, "did you see the Prophet the other day? Three people were attacked by werewolves in Cardiff. I can't believe werewolves actually exist!"
Remus shrugged, but secretly felt a little uneasy. His father had mentioned the attack in his most recent letter, cautioning Remus to remain inside on full moons in case a werewolf was on the prowl. He glanced back to where the other three boys were disappearing into the trees, and longed to go with them, even though he knew it was forbidden. Back home, the Lupin's cottage bordered on a sprawling forest, and Remus had spent his childhood exploring it with his father, learning all about magical creatures in their natural habitats. To be this close to a forest and not be allowed to enter it…
In the distance, they heard a shout – Hagrid was shooing the boys out of the forest again, brandishing a shovel at them. Remus watched them as they ran back across the lawn, laughing and out of breath, but clearly undeterred.
"I wonder if werewolves actually live in The Forbidden Forest," Lily said, as though reading his mind. "Dumbledore must know."
"My father said there was one in there when he was at Hogwarts, but that she died after one of her transformations."
"That's really sad," Lily said quietly. She followed Remus's gaze to the trees. "I wonder why she was living in there."
Because she probably had nowhere else to go, Remus thought, but he didn't tell Lily this. Having grown up in a Muggle family, she had no idea of the hatred and disgust many witches and wizards felt for lycanthropes – and Remus certainly didn't want to be the one to tell her.
He knew his father had far more experience in these matters – he worked for the Ministry, after all, investigating dark creatures and their links to the Dark Lord. But Remus couldn't believe that all werewolves were bad, like Lyall did. I mean, they were people most of the time, right? Maybe if he met one, it would change his mind…
"…being that hairy every month, don't you agree Remus? Remus?"
(-)(-)(-)
Remus blinked away the memory and looked up. "I'm sorry, Molly, I was miles away. Did you say something?"
The older woman smiled at him. "Isn't that your partner's owl, dear?"
Sure enough, Proudfoot's handsome, spotted owl was perched on the porch railing. Remus fed him a treat as he read the note, written in Proudfoot's usual frank but vague manner.
Lupin,
Call me ASAP.
Proudfoot
Not at all ominous, Remus thought, getting to his feet. "Molly, would you mind terribly if I borrowed your Floo?"
"Of course not," Molly said, "Go on through to the sitting room."
"Thank you, I won't be long."
Moments later, Proudfoot's face appeared in the flames, wearing an expression of extreme annoyance. "Your boy Kit has been in touch again."
"Twice in one week? He must really like me."
"Well, make sure he buys you dinner before you drop your trousers for him. Anyway, he told me the meeting has been moved forward."
Last Monday, while picking up his weekly supply of counterfeit potions to flog, Kit had overheard a conversation between his supplier and his handler. The latter was to meet with two of the main players in the potions ring in a pub in Knockturn Alley on the Wednesday of the following week. Hence why Remus had been pulled into work on Harry's birthday to retrieve the information, since Kit refused to give it up to anyone else. Paranoia was a good quality in an informant, but the timing had been nothing short of irritating.
Scrimgeour, however, had been ecstatic at the news and spent over an hour briefing a six-Auror task force before he would allow Remus to leave.
"Moved forward to when? Tuesday?"
"Nope, tonight – 8:30 at The Leaky Cauldron."
"Tonight? It's Sunday, there's no way we'll be able to get a team together that fast! Half the department have gone to that bloody conference in Belgium, including Moody."
"Yep – the rest of our task force have gone with them. But we can handle it. There are only three of them, and they don't know we're coming."
Remus was still unsure. He didn't like going into situations blind, especially when he didn't know those involved. They might be skilled duellists or bumbling squibs.
"Why was the meeting moved?"
"Apparently two of them are leaving the country to meet with a new supplier they've just discovered. We might not get this chance again for a while," she added pointedly.
Remus scrubbed a hand over his face. "Right. Have you told Scrimgeour?"
"His mother-in-law is in St. Mungo's; incurable Dragon Pox. They don't think she'll last the weekend. Knowing Scrimgeour, he'd probably insist on coming with us, and I don't want to be responsible for his divorce."
"Fair point. Is there anyone else we could take?"
Proudfoot cocked her head. "We could take Paisley? He's in the office at the moment doing paperwork."
"On a Sunday?"
Paisley was a newly qualified Junior; exceptionally bright and hardworking, but overly inquisitive and a fan of Muggle action movies. Still, he was a promising young Auror and steady under pressure.
"Okay," Remus said, after a moment's thought, "Brief him thoroughly and make sure you tell him –"
"– not to be a hero," Proudfoot finished, rolling her eyes. "I know."
Remus pulled a face at her and she cackled. Even though Proudfoot was nearly a decade older than him, he had been promoted to Senior a year before her. Unlike the rest of the Juniors in the department at that time, she had never sulked or complained, and had treated Remus with the same level of light mockery that she did with everyone else. He appreciated that more than he could ever say.
"How did you get Kit to tell you that the meeting had been moved?" he said. "Last time he would only speak to me."
"Oh, well, he didn't want to tell me at first, but after I threatened to transfigure his balls into overripe pears and smash them with a hammer, he was surprisingly forthcoming."
The Auror in Remus wanted to scold her, but the Marauder in him was dying to snigger. He settled for a vaguely chastising smile. "You really shouldn't threaten an informant."
"Oh, I never would have actually done it," Proudfoot said, raising her eyebrows. "Imagine the mess."
"I'd really rather not. And on that note, I'll be going – see you at the office."
Proudfoot saluted him and was gone.
With a sigh, Remus returned to the porch, where Arthur was explaining his understanding of Muggle football to his amused wife.
"…and then sometimes, players throw themselves onto the ground on purpose, in the hopes of being granted a 'fail' by the referee."
"A fail? Does that mean the other team lose?" Spotting Remus, Molly smiled brightly. "There you are! Everything alright?"
"Well, yes and no; I've been called into work. I am terribly sorry to have to cut our evening short."
"Oh dear," Arthur said. "Nothing serious, I hope?"
"I doubt it, just unavoidable, I'm afraid. Anyway, I'd better get Harry home."
"Or he could stay here?" Molly suggested. "He seems to be getting along so well with Ron, and I'd hate for him to spend the evening alone at your house, or with that Muggle family of his." She wrinkled her nose; after hearing some of the Dursleys' antics, she was not at all enamoured by them. "We'll take good care of him, I promise."
Remus hesitated, glancing out at the garden. Harry did seem to be having a wonderful time, laughing and joking with Ron and the twins, and now even Ginny. He didn't want to spoil that. Not when Harry had to go back to Privet Drive tomorrow.
"If you're sure, Molly? I might not be back until quite late, though…"
"Oh, don't worry about that, Remus," she said. "We'll keep him as long as you need. I was planning on sausage sandwiches and trifle for supper, anyway."
"You'll be his new favourite person, Molly," Remus said, and she beamed at him, before shooing him off the porch. After a quick word with Harry, he strode away from The Burrow, turned on his heel and was gone.
(-)(-)(-)
"…and then she looked over at me, nose in the air, and said, 'Theodore, I don't think that is appropriate attire for a funeral.' So, I said, 'Listen, Missus, if he comes back from the dead and tells me that himself, I swear I'll put some on some trousers!'"
Tonks burst into laughter, promptly knocking over her flagon of Butterbeer.
"Well, Theodore, I don't think this is an appropriate story to tell our daughter," Andromeda said, her lips twitching, as she cleaned up the Butterbeer with a wave of her wand.
"Ah c'mon Andy," Ted said. "It's not like my socks weren't black, at least."
Andromeda finally gave in to a fit of giggles, as Tonks howled with laughter, rocking back in her chair and almost toppling right off it.
Since beginning the Auror program, finding time to visit her parents had become more and more challenging. Sunday dinner at The Leaky Cauldron had therefore become something of a routine for them, since she and her father almost always had the day off work.
The wizarding pub was surprisingly busy that evening, despite the beautiful weather outside, as dozens of patrons met friends and family after a day's shopping in Diagon Alley. Wiping her eyes, Tonks took a sip of her fizzy drink, a sigh of contentment escaping her. She had spent the day practicing the Individual Anti-Disapparition Jinx; a spell which prevented a single person from disapparating within a certain space. It wasn't as powerful as the normal Anti-Disapparition Jinx, such as the one placed over Hogwarts or the Ministry of Magic, but it was useful when trying to capture a single offender. Plus, she had an exam on it the following morning, and she hoped to impress her instructor, especially since her marks in Stealth and Tracking had been so low recently. She had even been practicing the jinx in combination with the Incarcerous spell, but she had yet to perfect that particular variation.
Her roommate, on the other hand, had found her commitment to the task infuriating – Mattie had been trying to set her up with a guy from the RCMC for weeks, and was not pleased that Tonks was prioritising work over play. Tonks had finally given in, agreeing to a casual date after she passed her exam, which bought the double reward of Mattie's silence and her help in practicing. Tonks just hoped that her date wasn't like the RCMC guys she had met so far: arrogant, insensitive, frightful haircuts.
Pondering whether jeans with a halter top, or the long-sleeved skater dress would be the better choice for a first date, Tonks took a sip of the new Butterbeer Tom had brought her. Meanwhile, something over her head caught her father's eye.
"Dora, luv, isn't that Remus Lupin over there?"
Sure enough, Lupin was making his way towards the bar, smoothly edging past a group of raucous older wizards. Tonks watched as he quietly spoke to Tom, and judging by how quickly the affable grin left the proprietor's face, it wasn't something pleasant. Nodding curtly, Tom poured Lupin a drink and moved away towards the other end of the bar, his expression troubled.
"He's gotten better with age, hasn't he?"
Tonks turned to her mother. "Sorry, who?"
"Lupin," Andromeda replied, nodding towards the bar. "He's not bad looking at all. Used to be a little gangly, but now –"
"Mum!"
"What? It's true."
"I'll say," Ted added, "Although he did always have a nice arse." He turned to his wife. "Didn't he win Witch Weekly's Most Shapely Arse competition in the early 80s?"
"Twice, I think," Andromeda said, looking thoughtful. "He's been nominated again this year, actually."
"Wonder if he'll beat Lockhart."
"Lockhart's arse really doesn't deserve that award. His smile, on the other hand…"
"You guys are disturbing," Tonks said, and her parents laughed. "That's my boss, you know!"
"I'd rather have a boss who's nice to look at," Ted mused, "I like McAdair as my manager, but she's definitely no Celestina Warbeck."
"You told me you didn't fancy Celestina Warbeck," Andromeda said, narrowing her eyes.
"Not personally," Ted said, his cheeks becoming tinged with pink. "I can just appreciate her aesthetic appeal as an objective outsider."
"I'll bet."
Tonks barely heard her parents as they continued to squabble – she was focused on Lupin, who was still at the bar, but hadn't touched his drink. Instead, his eyes were fixed on three wizards seated near the fireplace, who were deep in conversation, in between swigs of something that definitely was not Butterbeer. A more mismatched group was not uncommon in the wizarding pub; the eldest of the trio was thickset and unkempt, with thinning, grey hair and a nose to rival Severus Snape's, while the second man was tall and dark, with beady eyes and expensive black robes. The youngest was somewhere in his twenties, the lank, blonde hair and ripped jeans perfecting the appearance of dishevelled youth.
What was unusual about them was not their collective deportment, but their behaviour. Whenever another customer passed too close to them, they would abruptly stop speaking, and several times they had broken into aggressive, but whispered, arguments.
Tonks had noticed them on entering the pub earlier in the evening, and something about their mere presence had given her a chill, although she had dismissed it as Moody-level paranoia. Still, she had steered her parents away from the table next to them, and found a spot on the opposite end of the pub instead, near to the front door. At the time, she had wondered if this was how she would be from now on – constantly assuming the worst of complete strangers and positioning herself near an exit at all times.
Yet, if Lupin was also suspicious of the men, then perhaps she had been right to trust her instincts? She took a deep drink and sat up straighter in her chair, and unbidden, her mother's earlier words popped into her mind.
"Used to be a little gangly, but now –"
No, she was not going to think about her boss in that way. She was not going to think about how even though he was tall and lean, he was also muscular, with strong arms and broad shoulders. She was also not going to think about how soft his hair looked or how piercing his eyes were. And she definitely was not going to check out his –
At that moment, the back entrance to The Leaky Cauldron opened and Tonks glanced over to see Proudfoot enter the pub. Weirdly, she glanced at Lupin but didn't go near him, instead taking a seat at an empty table and flipping open a copy of The Daily Prophet. Her eyes, too, flickered towards the group of men.
Five minutes later, the front door opened again and one of the Junior Aurors – Palfrey or Pursley, or something like that – strolled in. He made his way to the opposite end of the bar to Lupin, and whispered something to a young witch and wizard who were standing there, waiting to order. Looking stricken, they left the pub without a backwards glance, and the Auror moved on to the next couple. A quick glance told Tonks that Lupin and Proudfoot were engaged in a similar task, quietly removing people from the pub every few minutes.
Something was definitely wrong.
The three Aurors had positioned themselves in such a way that they surrounded the group, but remained out of their direct eye-line. Tonks glanced towards the three men, who remained oblivious, and reached inside her jacket to grip her wand. She was torn between wanting to get her parents out of there, and staying right where she was. The pub was still quite full, but as customers continued to trickle out, it would soon become obvious that something was amiss.
The other Aurors seemed to be thinking along the same lines and were closing in fast. The Junior Auror – Paisley, that was it! – waved his wand in what Tonks recognised as the normal Anti-Disapparation Jinx, and she felt her heart begin to pound, knowing that neither she nor her parents would be able to apparate out of the pub either.
As Proudfoot slowly slid her wand from its holster, the three wizards abruptly stopped speaking and stood up, as did four other wizards at another table in the corner, and another three wizards who had been sitting at the bar. And they all had their wands drawn.
The three Aurors were now surrounded and completely outnumbered.
A hush fell over the pub, as customers began to realise something was off. A little boy at the table next to Tonks began to wail and his mother tried to hush him, her own face etched with fear.
"Good evening, Aurors," the elder, hook-nosed wizard said.
"Yeah, wassup mate?" Proudfoot replied, as Lupin surveyed the new group of wizards, his face impassive. Paisley had grown a little pale, but had his wand grasped tightly and appeared ready for anything.
"We expected you a little earlier," the wizard continued, "I began to worry you weren't coming."
"Well, now you're just giving me Yule Ball flashbacks," Proudfoot said with a shudder, "My date was horribly clingy. To this day, she still sends me Valentine's Day cards."
"Well, we're all here now," Lupin said. His eyes flickered over the two dozen customers still in the pub and Tonks knew what he was thinking. In a duel with that many people, spells and curses were bound to go awry. His eyes met Tonks's and widened briefly, before shifting away again.
"But we could all just walk away?" he suggested, mildly, as though he were simply proposing a sunset stroll through Diagon Alley. "Everybody wins."
"You know, we did consider that," the hook-nosed wizard replied, with a slow smile that displayed dark yellow teeth. "But then, we thought, where's the fun in that?"
Before Tonks could breathe, all wands were drawn and the dim pub was suddenly bright with flashes of red and yellow.
"DOWN!" Lupin shouted, as the three Aurors quickly deflected the curses. "Everybody on the floor! NOW!"
Customers dove for cover under tables and chairs, as curses and hexes flew in every direction. Within a minute, Lupin and Proudfoot had stunned three of their attackers, gaining back a slight advantage. Paisley quickly cast several Shield Charms over the pub-goers crouched on the floor and then began duelling with the young, blonde wizard.
Tonks made to join them, but her mother grabbed her arm before she could move.
"Don't even think about it," Andromeda hissed, pulling her underneath their table and casting her own Shield Charm. "You'll get in the way and get yourself killed."
"Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence, mother," Tonks muttered.
"Listen to her – you're better off staying out of their way," Ted added. "They know what they're doing."
He seemed to be right; Proudfoot stunned two more wizards, and joined Lupin, who was currently duelling three at once. Tonks had witnessed duels before, first at Hogwarts, and more recently among the Junior Aurors in their training sessions, which she, Walden and Miriam sometimes stayed late to watch. But while those had been full of mischief hexes and non-lethal curses, this was something else entirely. The air in the pub crackled with dark magic and the entire building shook under the weight of it.
While the group of dark wizards were more vicious than their opponents in the curses they chose, they were also sloppier and missed their targets more often than not. The Aurors, on the other hand, were incredibly shrewd and quick; Tonks barely saw their lips move, as they effortlessly switched between spells and counter-curses and back again.
Paisley was quick and precise in his wandwork, and always had a shield up. Proudfoot was flamboyant but focused, rarely missing her mark, and seemed to gain more energy based on how irritated her opponent became.
Lupin, however, was exceptional. He seemed able to anticipate the spell his adversary would use against him seconds before they tried, and was able to both block the attack and counter it in a split-second. He also used a range of jinxes that Tonks had never seen before; one of his attackers struggled to breathe through the thick, blue fur growing out of his nostrils, while another dropped his wand and began break-dancing, yelling profanities at Lupin all the while.
And then, everything changed.
The young, blonde wizard caught Paisley in the face with some kind of hex and the young Auror fell to the ground. Proudfoot turned her head when she heard him cry out, and Lupin blocked the Expulso Curse that the hook-nosed wizard shot at her.
Seizing the opportunity, the tall, black wizard bolted for the front door and Lupin fired a spell after him, at the same moment the blonde wizard threw a curse at the Auror. As the tall wizard toppled to the floor, bound by the Incarcerous Spell, Lupin was flung across the pub and over a long table, leaving a thick, sickening smear of blood across the oaken top.
AN: This seems an appropriate spot for a cliffhanger… Until next time, dear readers! Please R&R :)