Tonks was still feeling a bit light-headed from meeting Amelia Bones when she made her way into the room. She wasn't the last to arrive – Simon Fraser would dawdle in a few moments later – but she was the one Kingsley Shacklebolt attacked.

"As I've just told the rest of the class, coming in late is inexcusable." He walked over to where she had tried to slip in towards the back inconspicuously. He held his hands behind him and stared down at her. "Leniency given today will not be repeated. If you come in late for duty, you will lose your job, and there's a damn good reason for that. We're Aurors, we're trying to help people, and it's pretty hard to help people if you're not there to be of help." (Shacklebolt was downright poetic, sometimes.)

All Tonks could do was stare up at him; she could feel the rest of class's eyes on her, but she couldn't break away from his gaze. Was he challenging her? Trying to make her break? Tonks felt like crying, but she was the kind of person who could very easily cry but hated to show weakness at any cost and it seemed her whole life was a walking contradiction and she suddenly found her mouth very, very dry.

After an eternity, Shacklebolt looked away. "What's your name, cadet?"

"Tonks," she said. He waved his hands, and a piece of parchment and a quill appeared and he seemed to be taking some kind of roll. "Nymphadora?" he asked, presumably for clarification.

"Are there any other Tonkses on there?" she asked, and then she flushed when Shacklebolt whipped his head around to glare at her. She couldn't help herself. The comments just came out. In her fourth year, McGonagall had written an angry letter to her parents, saying that she believed Tonks didn't think before she spoke, but Tonks really didn't know what that was supposed to accomplish because by that point she and her parents had long since accepted that fact.

Shacklebolt turned away from her and walked back to the front of the room. "All right, cadets," he said. "Today is your first day of training. We will be covering some of the basic theories and practices of Aurordom, and, more specifically, make sure that you understand what is expected of you." He turned somber. "It's a difficult job, I am not going to lie. The pay is probably not worth it." A ghost of smile lit up his face. "The hours are unbearable. You will have no social lives to speak of." He grew quiet. "But it's worth it; if you just help one wizard, it's worth it."

Tonks puffed up in her chair, suddenly feeling important. Most of the others in the room did, too, she noticed.

"I hate to say," Shacklebolt said, looking somewhat amused, "that most of you will not make it through basic training. Most of you will probably never become fully-qualified Aurors. You've been accepted into the programs because of your O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. scores and whatever other criteria you met." Kingsley looked at her pointedly then, Tonks just knew it, and she wondered if he knew, if everyone in the Auror department knew, and if they thought she didn't get the job on her merits. Sometimes Tonks found herself thinking that she didn't get the job on her merits. "But doing well on your exams does not ensure that you have the stamina and personality for this field. It's difficult. Don't think for a moment that it isn't. Do not for a moment take anything for granted, because that's the moment you'll lose your footing."

That was the moment in the speech when Fraser came in, and he tried to scoot past Tonks to sit in the chair next to her, but somehow Tonks got her work cloak caught underneath the seat, and so when she pulled her chair forward she choked herself and coughed loudly, and then everyone turned to look at her, and she tried quickly to pull her cloak from beneath the chair leg, but pulled too aggressively and ended up flinging herself out of her chair.

One person chuckled, and then the whole room burst into a rather quiet, but still existent, laughter.

"Tonks ..." Shacklebolt said in an exhausted kind of voice that he would later reserve just for her.

Tonks sat in the seat in front of Scrimgeour's desk, sweating a storm, on the brink of dehydration. She wondered about sweat glands, and fat glands, and if, maybe, just maybe, she knew more about biology she could control certain parts of her better.

"Tonks," he finally said. "There's no doubt you'll be an asset to our program."

Tonks tried to look pleased at that, but it was rather hard to when all her gut instincts were saying that he wanted her because she could shift her face, not because she was actually going to be good at being an Auror.

"But I do have a question for you."

"Yes?" she said, surprised she could speak at all.

"It says here that you were a Hufflepuff. Not that I have any problems with Hufflepuffs," he said hurriedly, but Tonks wasn't offended all that much. "It's just that very few Hufflepuffs have found success in our Auror program.

"I was wondering about how life for you was in Hufflepuff house, and how you think being a Hufflepuff gives you an advantage in this field." He sat back then, and gave Tonks a look like he expected her to give a deep, thoughtful, intellectual answer. He clearly didn't know her very well.

"Nymphadora Tonks," McGonagall said. Tonks looked over at Charlie Weasley, who she had ridden the train with. He gave her a thumbs up. She looked over at the Gryffindor table. Jane Henshaw, the other girl in their compartment, was already seated. She was staring at the ceiling in awe.

Tonks looked back to McGonagall, and somehow, magically, her feet moved themselves; she certainly wasn't trying to walk on purpose.

Somehow, she sat down on the stool. Somehow, the hat ended up on her head.

What an interesting mind.

Tonks wasn't dumb, and she knew that 'interesting' is what you say when you want to sound complimentary but are actually being insulting. The hat thought she was stupid.

No, you're not stupid, though you don't seem to care too much for schoolwork.

And she wasn't brave, so Ravenclaw and Gryffindor were out.

One does not have to be brave in the traditional sense to be brave at all.

Well, what does that mean? She thought they'd established that she wasn't all that smart.

For someone who isn't smart, you are very witty. And ambitious.

Slytherin? Tonks didn't know what to make of that. Although her mother seemed to hate her family, she did seem rather fond of her old house.

But you're also very kind, and you're very loyal.

Tonks was sure she would make someone a good pet someday.

What do you want?

Friends.

Better make it ... "HUFFLEPUFF!"

She was now drowning in sweat.

She was gripping the arms of her chair so tightly, she was going to break them.

She imagined them breaking, and the shards flying around the room. One would hit Scrimgeour in the eye. He would lose his sight. He would be like Mad-Eye.

It seemed an awfully embarrassing way to lose an eye, though, as far as losing your eye goes.

Tonks wondered if she could change her vision. She'd never tried to shift her eyeball shape before. She didn't know if she could. Once again, her knowledge of biology was failing her.

She was in an ocean of sweat, breathing it in, and it was getting into her lungs.

It seemed almost treasonous, being killed by something your body made for you.

Tonks realized that Scrimgeour was still looking at her, and expecting an answer.

"I dunno," she finally said. She didn't even mean to say it.

"You've made it through your first four weeks of training. You've mastered basic theories and laws, and you now know what you can and cannot do as an Auror – in theory." Tonks snickered at Shacklebolt's eloquence, but he ignored her. "But today we will be starting the toughest part of your training, the physical training. Keep in mind that this is where we will be testing your combatant abilities and the way you deal with Auror theory when presented with a real criminal wizard.

"To talk with you about it, I welcome legendary Auror, Alastor Moody."

Tonks had never seen Mad-Eye Moody before. She'd heard of him, of course, usually in the articles in the Prophet she sometimes read when she woke up before breakfast was ready and her father had moved onto the funny pages, and so she was left with nothing but the boring columns while her father laughed his ass off at Marvin Miggs.

But that was nothing compared to seeing Moody in the flesh, so to speak. He face looked like it had taken fifty million hits from a Bludger. His nose looked it was trying to escape from his face (and a chunk of it had succeeded). His glass eye was fantastic; it swirled around the room and stayed on each of them for a split second – except, Tonks noticed, for herself. Why didn't he look at me?

Shacklebolt seemed to find this entertaining. "What do you think of the recruits, Moody?"

"A true group of reprobates if I ever seen one," he said, also somewhat good-naturedly, but then, before Tonks could even blink, he'd pulled out his wand and put the tip right against the throat of the student in front of him – Eric Wood. Wood looked cross-eyed down at the wand, and then gulped.

"What we have here," Moody said, enunciating carefully and putting his wand away, "is a lack of vigilance." He paced a bit, staring at the students before him, frowning, and no one said a thing, or even breathed, and the only sound in the whole room was the sound of Moody's wooden leg hitting the floor.

"So you want to be Aurors, hmmm?" Moody scoffed, and shook his head. "You're not fit to be Aurors. Do you think just anybody can be an Auror? The entrance exam alone has failed many men. Tell 'em, Kingsley."

"It's true. The exam has a less than 50% passing rate."

"Less than 50%!" Moody growled. "Tell 'em how long it's been since someone's been admitted to the program."

"Five years," Shacklebolt said.

"Five years!" Moody exclaimed, waving his wand around. Everyone in the room looked at each other, and it wasn't all that hard because there weren't many of them left. Moody noticed that.

"How many started the program, Shacklebolt?"

"There were about thirty."

"How many are there now?"

"Eleven."

"You lost twenty people in a month's worth of training, is what you're saying, Shacklebolt?"

"Yes."

"How many months of training are left?"

"There are two more months of basic training, and then there's two years of field training."

"So, if you lose twenty in the first month, how many do you think you'll lose this month?"

"In theory, even more. The first month was the easy one."

"In theory, none of these kids stand a chance?"

"In theory."

Tonks was torn between rolling her eyes and throwing up.