After the war, Tonks returned to her hometown, which was none other than New York City. She wasn't the only one to come to the States. Her beloved mentor and friend, Mad Eye Moody, had also crossed into Gotham. In the last decade, the Wizarding Community in New York saw an enormous influx of refugees, especially refugee children, many of them orphaned during the war, as countless parents sent their young family members overseas, by way of an elaborate and clandestine floo network. Tonks couldn't bear the somber atmosphere and the universal mourning of the old in England, and after the war she had an acute need to return home where, at least, she'd be far more anonymous on several counts than she ever was in England.
Also, she wanted to continue to be of use. Battle fatigue in London had overtaken everyone, it seemed, and the politics in that city was unbearably recalcitrant and increasingly reactionary. It's not that Tonks didn't care about the situation in London. She cared deeply. But she knew she could do more concrete good in Wizarding New York City, which, despite the suspicious presence of Umbridge, seemed to have maintained its progressive leanings, or at least its activism, post-war. Tonks especially cared about the children who had practically flooded the Wizarding community there, and, at her job at the Center for Magical Emigration's Children's Unit (CMECU), she was able to combine her Auror investigative skills with her fondness for young people, and her desire to mentor them. The work was fulfilling, though it took a toll on her emotionally. Still, she'd rather dedicate her emotional life to the sorrows of others than to face the wasteland that was her own inner desert of feeling.
With past (though, to Tonks at least, unspecified) ties to NYC and to its underground Auror units, Moody also headed to a home of sorts. Tonks further believed, though Moody would never admit it, that for Moody, Tonks was as good as a daughter and, at this point in his life, the closest thing to family he had. She was pretty sure that she herself was one of the reasons Moody chose to return to his NYC grounds, that and the fact, also something Moody would never admit, that the last war had taken a toll even on him. They had lost a lot of people, including a lot of children: Ron, Fred, Neville, Dobby; Hagrid, Sirius, Hestia, Minerva, of course Dumbledore…the list of the dead and gone filled pages and pages. A change of scene and a shift to a lower profile suited Moody just as much as Tonks, just fine.
Of course there had been another reason Tonks had left for home, but that particular reason was something she never dwelt on for very long, and it was something that she would never admit. It was a love pain. Or it was something very close to that. For she had very nearly fallen in love with one of her closest friends in the midst of a war. She never told him, though she suspected he knew and that he felt something similar for her. One of her great losses during the war, then, one she kept secret, was the death of hope for that love. She and Remus came out of the war different people, and Remus especially had simply slunk away, away from the spotlight, but also away from her and their friends, as soon as things were finished. She had been raped, abused, and beaten, and then she was forced to endure it all over again. He had been tortured within an inch of his life, by the man who had, from the beginning of that life, threatened to upend it; had still more people, as well as his dignity as a human being, stripped away from him. And they were both unable to prevent the harm done. Neither could bear to look the other in the eye. It was all too painful. Between them there was never even a formal parting, and neither party kept in touch. Whatever love might have been budding between them, they both had tacitly agreed to let it die. Remus had long understood, and the once effervescent Tonks came to understand, that trauma changes people, alters the way they can be in the world, and it very often incapacitates them. Perhaps forever. She had become, in small measure at least, a little more like Remus, and Remus had become more like his shadow, sadder self, than ever before. Tonks couldn't even remember the last time they met. She didn't want to remember. There were no goodbyes. She never even told him her relocation plans…
'Stop it, Tonks,' Tonks chided herself, as she peeled off her clothes and stepped into a hot shower, one of her only sensual pleasures these days. 'Stop dwelling in the past. It does no good. It does no good.'
In another hour, Tonks was dressed, and out the door, having also done the eating and cleaning rounds with her beloved cats, of whom she had 5. Her shift began early, at 7:30, and before that she was to meet Moody at the local diner, a hole in the wall run by a Chinese family, the Lees, that served apple pie and greasy American fare alongside the best dim sum (off menu) in the borough (Queens) if not in all of NYC.
'Hi Mr. Lee!' Tonks waved as she entered her favorite haunt, taking her usual seat at the bar. 'Ah! Hi Miss Tonks. You are early today. What can I get for you?' 'Oh, well, hmmm…' she looked at the menu. 'Hey, Mr. Lee, do you have Mrs. Lee's homemade soup from last time?' She looked at him in a silly gesture of pretty please pleading. 'In fact, we do, we kept it in the back special for you. No need to butter-me-up-your-way into it' Tonks chuckled. Her banter with the Lees was the result of a long acquaintance, now a true friendship. Tonks had, after all, stood extra special guard with their small daughter at the CMECU each day. 'Yay! If it's not too much trouble, seriously.' 'It is my pleasure for our best customer. And friend.' 'Aw, thanks Mr. Lee, I —' all of a sudden there was a screech of pleasure and Tonks legs were bound into a tight embrace by a beautiful little girl, full of life, with her sleek hair tied up in a glorious green ribbon. 'TONKS!' 'Hey there little trooper! How are ya today, Angela?' 'I'm going to school again today and I made THIS in school, hold on!' Angela rushed into the back of the diner, as a waiter came out holding several dishes, looking half amused and mildly annoyed as he nearly lost his balance while Angela darted past. This was Angela's first semester at school, and she and her parents were proud of that. Angela had worked with Tonks and the other children regarded either as 'filthy,' 'eliminable' and 'unsalvagable vermin,' or else as literal slaves to be recruited for the pureblood cause during and even, secretly, after the war, something that, in recent years, no one in London wanted to believe or pay attention to, but something that Tonks was dedicated to combating in less war scarred and more cynical New York City. The fact that Angela was not only leading a normal life but flourishing filled her parents with pride and Tonks with a deep sense of meaning in what for her was, privately, all too often a seemingly meaningless life.
Mr. Lee smiled. 'Let me go to get you that soup, Tonks.' 'Thanks so much again. And maybe a cup of coffee, pleeeeaaaaseee?' she called after him as he went through the double doors, raising his hand in acknowledgment. Meanwhile, a gust of cold wind swept through the small establishment, and Tonks heard the clankety clank clankety clank of a wooden leg walking in time with a metal-plated cane. To her, now and always, that was one of the world's most comforting sounds. Without turning around, she intoned: 'Mad Eye.' A simple declaration that belied her deep love and affection for her decades-long mentor, and now friend.
Moody sat down gruffly, huffing pointedly as he took his seat next to Tonks without quite looking at her. Mr. Lee was just coming out with Tonks's soup and coffee. Somehow he had also anticipated Moody's arrival (though, it is true, they usually came to the diner as a pair), and so had brought extra coffee and an enormous stack of pancakes. 'Lee,' Moody growled, not unfriendly, but Angela was already in the middle of everything, her arms now wrapped tightly around Moody's legs — both wooden and flesh. 'MISTER MOODY!' Something in Mad Eye's expression softened, though Tonks fancied only she could tell. 'What is it, then, little lassie?' 'I WAS JUST SHOWING TONKS! LOOK! LOOK! LOOK WHAT I MADE IN SCHOOL!' She brought out her proudest creation with a flourish, as Tonks, Mr. Lee, and Moody looked on. The three adults inhaled, sharply, as one.
It was a drawing. Not an unusual thing for a child Angela's age to bring home from school. But the subject matter was quite…concerning. 'What…well…such beautiful colors, Angela…' Mr. Lee began, as the child's face fell. 'Don't you like it, isn't it good, the teacher gave it 100, you know…' 'Oh, Angela.' Tonks hugged her and kissed the top of her head. 'You know we love everything you make, and we want you to keep making more, but…' She looked up at Mr. Lee and Moody. Moody looked back and then turned to Angela's father, expectantly. He cleared his throat. 'Mark. Go on…' he hoarsely whispered. 'Angela. Where…who…who taught you to draw this?' The 'this' Mark Lee was referring to was a rough but unmistakable color sketch of a blood stained battlefield in which giants, werewolves, veela, merfolk, and various witches and wizards (labeled 'M.B.' for Mudblood) were laying all akimbo and, apparently, unconscious or dead, with a 5 year old's approximation of the Dark Mark over them. It was not only a terrible, terrible image. It was all the more terrible, thinking that the joyful and compassionate 5 year old they knew and loved was its creator.
Angela started to cry. Mr. Lee and Tonks immediately began to comfort her in turn, as Moody gave the drawing a closer inspection, his magical eye whirling, with emotion or with rapid thinking, Tonks could never quite tell… 'Angela, we are not upset with you, and your art skills are…as usual…they are quite impressive! Very good!' Mr. Lee faltered. Angela truly was a precocious talent, and the Lees, Moody, and Tonks saw in her preternatural enthusiasm for drawing the hints of a great artistic future. A wonderful prospect for anyone, let alone a child labeled 'vermin' in recent years by those who wanted to purge the future from the hopes and dreams of the likes of Angela…
'But…but…' 'Angela, sweetie,' Tonks picked up, 'we are just a little worried. People are hurt in your drawing. It's such a sad and angry picture. What made you think of this?' 'I didn't…it was…it was…it was based on a story we heard…' 'A story?' Tonks prompted. 'I don't want to talk about it!' 'Sweetie, that is totally fine. Here.' She lifted the child up so that she was sitting on Moody's lap. She smiled big and wide up at him. Moody grunted, but couldn't help a small smile in return. He whispered at Tonks, though, loud and harsh, more to save face than anything: 'You better watch yourself, young girl. I'm too old to play the buffoon.' 'Naw, I think you're just about the right age,' Tonks winked. 'Angela, why don't we ask your daddy really really nice whether we could share some warm apple pie for breakfast since it's such a special day today, hm?' 'YEAH!' 'Yeah, Dad, could you get us some warm apple pie?' Mr. Lee wagged his finger, but looked relieved, at least for the moment. 'Ok, ok, just this once!' Angela started shouting at him in gleeful Mandarin as he removed the pie from the case. 'She wants extra whipped cream, Tonks.' 'You're welcome, Mark.' He and Tonks exchanged a brief smile.
Moody glanced at the little girl devouring her pastry. 'I really am not a grandfather, ok?' he shot at Tonks. 'You are a little bit.' 'Look. You're the one who takes care of all these kids. And they're not even yours. I don't take care of them. You do.' 'You know you love them, though.' Moody snorted. 'I do not. I hate kids. They disrupt the practice of constant vigilance.' 'Sure they do.' These were always the best parts of Tonks's days, when she could forget the fact that she was damaged, depressed and lonely, in the company of good people, like the Lees, like Mad Eye. She felt more at home than ever then. 'Just eat your pancakes, Mad Eye.'
'Seriously, lass. We need to debrief later. I'm already needing to get a move on this morning.' He started attacking his pancakes. 'But! Both of us need to figure out what is going on in That School.'
'That School' was attached, physically and administratively, to the New York City Wizarding Academy, run by Dolores Umbridge; That School was the New York City Wizarding Preparatory Academy, or simply 'Wizarding Prep,' for short. It accepted children aged 5-10, and it had long been an excellent way to get into the very competitive (though public and supposedly open to all) Wizarding Academy.
Mr. Lee approached Moody and Tonks, looking worn and far older than his 42 years. 'Regroup later? I am worried.' 'Of course. In the meantime, I'll see Angela at the Center after school. I might get a sense before then of the wider context for this…yeah. Moody and I have our eyes open. In his case, so to speak. You know we are Aurors first and foremost.' 'I know.' Mr. Lee nodded grimly. 'See you later, Tonks. Angela! Let Mr. Moody finish his pancakes. It's time for school. Say bye bye.' 'Bye Tonks! By Mr. Mad Eye!' Angela giggled, hugged the two 'first and foremost' Aurors, and followed her father to the backroom to get her school supplies. 'Breakfast is on the house, you two.' 'No way, Mr. Lee!' 'Oh yes. Yes, it is.' Tonks glanced at Moody once Mr. Lee was out of sight with Angela. 'Let's double his tip.' 'Allow me, lassie.' 'Aw, Moody, you're so chivalrous. I owe you a…whatever it is you drink out of that flask.' 'No you don't. Let's just get a move on and touch base later. At least by Floo.' 'Sure thing, Mad Eye.'
They stepped out into the chilly December air, and Tonks pulled her coat tighter to her neck and added, 'it's not like I have anything else to do but Floo you about Umbridge et al each night.' Moody just stared. 'And that's another thing. Now it is absolutely none of my business, nor do I care what you do or don't do with anybody or anything. But as my trainee I expect, I expect…' Moody, uncharacteristically, trailed off. 'I cannot believe it,' Tonks stated, genuinely shocked. 'You are actually taking an interest in my social life?!' 'Or lack thereof.' 'Merlin, Moody, why?!' 'I honestly have no idea. I suppose…' 'Yes?' 'I suppose. I suppose I care about you. Of course I do! No need to draw that out or dwell. I know you're depressed, Tonks, and you have been for a long time. You really should — and this does have to do with you helping me with the Aurors Underground — you really should…be able to morph. And…and…' 'Yes? Seriously Mad Eye you're acting mighty strange. Awkwardness does not suit you at all.' 'That mousy hair and half-arsed professional garb does you no favors either.' 'Huh. Touche. But what is it you're trying to spit out?' 'Can't now. Floo later. 8 PM?' 'Naw. I get up at 4. You know that. I need to be wound down by then.' 'Ok. Diner tomorrow morning. Make it at 7.' 'Deal.'