Nymphadora Lupin died a hero's death. Because of that, no one remembered her.
She became the symbol of the Second War. The brave mother who laid down her life so that all children, not just her own could live in a brighter, better world. That was true.
They called her brave, kind, just, wise, compassionate, beautiful, unique, talented. Some of that was true. Some of it was not.
But even though just some of that was true, that was the woman that was preserved in the history books. She wasn't as famous as Lily Potter or Hermione Granger but Nymphadora Lupin had her page.
No one remembered Tonks. No one remembered the awkward, acne covered teen who stumbled into class every day, more often late then not. No one remembered that she only like mashed carrots on Tuesdays, or that she loved rainy days the best but sunny ones more. No one remembered the time that she got in a screaming match with Charlie Weasely in the middle of the Great Hall. No one remembers her countless detentions, her braces, her unpopularity.
The history books don't say that she almost failed her auror training. They don't record that Mad Eye Moody tutored her in stealth every night for six weeks and that even then she barely passed.
Those books don't say that sometimes she curled up in bed in the middle of the night and screamed and cried and raged at the world. Or that she was sometimes scared out of her mind. Or that sometimes during the war, she considered taking Teddy and running far, far away.
History doesn't record that her last words to her killer were "Please, dear god, please I have a son!"
No. Those books don't say any of that. They enshrine Nymphadora Lupin's memory and regard their creation as truth. They don't care that the Nympadora Lupin they created is a very different woman from Tonks. It doesn't matter.
Nymphadora Lupin shines through the pages of history and on the faces of monuments, reminding all who see her name of self-sacrifice and unquestioning bravery.
Tonks fades from the pages and her memory bleeds out and vanishes.