Tonks slammed her hand against the stone in frustration, drawing irritated looks from Doom and a now recovered Gloom. She meekly stepped back, clasping and unclasping her now stinging hand.

Three hours. Three hours since Harry Potter and Joe Thompson had left. Three hours of nothing but vexation and misery.

After Harry and Joe left her line of sight, Tonks had immediately tried apparating into the Atrium. However, she had felt an enormous amount of pain and pressure that forced her to cancel the spell. Then, when she had tried to communicate her displeasure to Doom and Gloom, she had found that she was unable to do that as well. She soon realized why - the Unbreakable Vow.

Following a brief period of failed attempts at communication, the three of them had set about examining the previously vibrating arch. However, because they could not effectively collaborate, they had been forced to work independently. And after three hours of nonstop examination, whatever it was that had caused the arch to shimmer continued to elude them.

Doom and Gloom had been sending her constant death stares, which Tonks could partially understand. They were right to blame her for her decision to not immediately apparate away and raise an alarm. She again found herself blushing in shame, her hair turning a bright shade of red to match her mood. Her stupidity might have just cost the magical world the knowledge of Harry Potter's return.

Tonks shook her head. It would do no good to dwell, especially since there was work to be done. She continued wringing her hand as she looked up at the igneous bluestones before her. Doom and Gloom were crawling over them, casting all manner of spells and charms. Yet much like their previous work, nothing seemed to have any effect.

"This is pointless. The stones are and always will be impervious to magic," Tonks remarked, ensuring that her wording did not violate the Vow.

"Silence, girl," snapped Gloom.

Tonks didn't appreciate his tone, no matter how justified it may have been. "We haven't learned anything new in the past three hours. Nor will we."

"You know nothing," spat Gloom.

"I know that you Unspeakables spent over six years failing to unravel the mysteries of the Bloody Solstice," she retorted.

"Yes, but the Unspeakables at the time didn't have the opportunity to fully dissect the magical residue until after the perimeter had been secured, which took hours. By then, the signature would undoubtedly have been clouded. Unlike -" Gloom abruptly froze mid-sentence, and Tonks knew that it was because he had been about to mention the arch's activity, which was 'an aspect of the encounter'.

Gloom harrumphed, recollecting his thoughts. "But you wouldn't know anything about that, fool."

Tonks automatically ballooned, wanting to tell Gloom off. Yes, she had made a grievous error, but it wasn't like he was clear of blame either. Maybe if he and Doom had actually bothered incorporating her in their work, she would have been present the moment the arch began shimmering, and she would have been able to apparate away.

All this, Tonks wanted to say. Yet the moment the words formed on her lips, her throat seemed to close off, causing her gag reflexes to trigger. Gloom merely sneered at her in disgust, before returning to the arch.

She eventually recovered enough to stagger her way to a spot a few paces in front of the arch. Glancing up, she took in the mammoth bluestones before her. It went without saying that her mesmerization had been recaptured these past three hours. She took a cautious, reverent step towards the bluestone in front of her, and placed her non-throbbing hand against the cool, smooth surface.

Just what was Stonehenge hiding?

Tonks suddenly felt a strong vibration underneath her hand, and she yelped in surprise. She tried to step back, but she could not move her hand - it was almost as if it had become glued to the stone. "Help!" she called fearfully, the vibrations beginning to grow stronger and more frequent with each passing second.

"Brace yourself!" she heard Doom yell in response, but he was quickly drowned out by the increasing volume of the vibrations. Tonks frantically continued to try and pull her hand away from the stone, but it wouldn't budge. The fact that she had magic at her disposal finally registered, and she shakily raised her wand with her other hand. She began casting a number of repulsive charms, yet they again seemed to have no effect. After her fifth attempt at the same charm, she accidentally fumbled her wand, and it fell to the ground. She strained for it but found that it was out of her reach. With no other option, she continued to struggle in vain - but now the rest of her body was being drawn towards the stone as well.

When it seemed like the vibrations had reached a crescendo, an abrupt stillness descended that couldn't have lasted more than a second. Then a familiar, though louder pop sound echoed around the site, and Tonks was instantly sent flying in the opposite direction. She eventually tumbled to a halt a good dozen meters from where she had been stuck.

It took her a few moments, but Tonks eventually picked herself up off the grass. Her wand hand had cushioned her fall, and the second she was on her feet, she could tell that something inside it was broken. She winced in pain as she stumbled her way forwards, trying to recover her wand.

Then she saw him.

In front of the now shimmering arch stood a lean, muscular figure. He was draped in leather garments similar to the ones Harry and Joe had worn, save for one small detail: every inch of his attire was colored black. A conic helmet was situated atop his head, obscuring his hair entirely, though she was still able to make out his gaunt, scarred face. He gripped a massive battle-axe in his hands, and like Joe's cleaver, it had a hinge. The axe's hinge, however, was situated right in the middle of its massive wooden handle. Yet the most telling feature that she was able to make out was his eyes. Or more accurately, his eye. His left one was a rather dull, unremarkable shade of brown. His right iris, however, was colored a striking, sparkling shade of red. Behind him, the arch had once again begun shimmering.

Going off the fact that Harry and Joe had attacked them, it was a safe bet to assume that this newcomer wouldn't be too friendly either. Gloom, who was dusting himself off after his own harsh landing, seemed to reach a similar conclusion. He levied his wand at the figure, yelling "Petrificus Totalus!"

The figure smirked, the body-bind having no effect. He casually cocked an eyebrow in Gloom's direction. "Now that wasn't very wise."

In a flash, the figure charged towards him, Gloom's barrage of spells doing absolutely nothing to deter him. When he was a few paces away from his target, the figure jumped in the air, swinging his axe in a sharp, circular trajectory. A wandless Tonks could only watch in horror as it whistled through the air.

The impact was brief and decisive.

She fought the urge to vomit as Gloom's headless body toppled to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Instead, as the figure turned his blood-splattered face towards her, her fighting instincts kicked in. She scrambled for her wand and reflexively grabbed it with her usual hand. She cried in pain as she tried and failed to grip it - her adrenaline rush had caused her to forget about the pain in her hand. She wildly reached for it with her left hand, but by then it was too late.

With an iron grip, the figure clamped down on her shoulder, spinning her around to face him. Tonks feebly tried to squirm away, but her efforts were in vain.

"Shhh," he whispered to her. "Let's not make this more difficult than it has to be."

From the corner of her eye, Tonks noticed that Doom had finally risen to his feet, wand clutched in his hand. However, instead of helping her, he stared numbly at the severed head of his partner, which had landed in the grass in front of him.

"Help!" she yelled again, trying to capture Doom's attention. She couldn't tell if it had worked, because she was shoved to the ground. Unfortunately, she fell right on top of her broken wand hand, causing her to howl in agony.

As she writhed on the floor, the figure flipped her over, so she was facing him again. Tonks tried to back away, but he pinned her legs to the ground.

"Where are Rudan Hatterfield and Harry Potter?" he said in his gravelly voice, lowering the point of his axe to her neck.

Realizing that she was entirely at his mercy, Tonks focused her frenzied thoughts on coming up with an answer to his question. With a sinking feeling, she remembered she couldn't tell the truth even if she wanted to. She simply had to pray that this murderer wasn't a good lie detector.

"What? Who is Rudan Hatterfield?" she asked, trying to give herself time to form a believable response. It was only when he grinned that he realized her mistake.

"So you know Potter. Well, I suppose that's unsurprising. He is a bit of a celebrity in this world." He pressed the head of the axe down more tightly, causing a trickle of blood to form on her neck. "Where did he go? I know he and Hatterfield passed through here no more than a few hours ago."

"I don't know what you're talking about. Harry Potter has been missing for the past six years," she choked out.

"Wrong answer," he said, twisting her left foot sharply to the side with his free hand.

It didn't compare to the pain spell she had suffered earlier, but it was excruciating nonetheless. Still, she managed to bite down on her cries of anguish, for weeping would do her no good. All the while, the figure's blood-red iris bore a hole into her.

Tonks felt a sudden wave of magic wash over her, which made the figure swivel around and loosen his grip on her. She tried to stagger to her feet, but her twisted foot prevented her from doing so. Instead, she turned her body around, so that she could see what was going on.

Doom had finally come to her aid, attacking the figure with a volley of cutting spells and explosive charms. Either he had realized that stunners were ineffective, or he simply wanted revenge for his partner.

Tonks struggled her way to her knees and began frantically crawling towards her wand, which lay only a few paces away. When she reached it, she grasped it firmly with her left hand.

She immediately tried to apparate into the Atrium. However, she found that she was still unable to leave because of the Vow. Fleeing would not be an option.

Instead, Tonks revolved around, intent on helping Doom.

The sight that met her wasn't pretty. The figure had somehow resisted Doom's barrage and was sprinting towards him, axe in hand. Doom continued to cast spells, each more vicious than the last - yet nothing seemed to deter the figure. Just before he reached Doom's position, Tonks shakily raised her wand and chimed in with a "Confringo!".

Right away, Tonks could tell that the spell's trajectory was off. Instead of slamming into the figure's back like she had planned, the blasting spell sailed right by his left ear . . . and straight into Doom's gut. Doom was caught completely unaware, and the explosion sent him flying backward, straight into one of the bluestones. He collapsed in a heap that he did not get up from.

Nor did he get the chance to, for the figure was on him. He pushed slightly on the hinge of his axe, which caused it to fold into a shorter, more compact weapon. Then, in one fluid motion, he swung it downwards in a savage arc. Tonks flinched in horror as Doom's blood sprayed everywhere.

This was her fault. Doom and Gloom were dead because of her.

The figure dislodged the axe from Doom's corpse and started advancing towards her. Tonks fired every spell she knew, not holding anything back. Due to her position on her knees and the usage of her non-wand hand, half of the spells she fired missed entirely. The spells that did hit were harmlessly absorbed into the figure's black garments.

When he was a few paces away, Tonks came to the conclusion that braving the pain was a better alternative than simply laying down and dying. She frantically brought herself to her feet and started running in the opposite direction. However, her clubfoot caused her knee to buckle, and she crashed to the ground once more. Her wand slipped and fell into the grass in front of her.

Tonks heard his footsteps approach until he was standing in front of her. She weakly tried to reach for her wand, but he stooped and picked it up.

"This must be a wand," he said amusedly as he examined it. "A stick capable of magic. Or a stick that can harness magic. I'm unsure of the particulars. Potter didn't do a good job explaining it to me."

"Who are you?" Tonks asked.

He ignored her. "Such a little thing." He tossed it to himself and caught it with his free hand. Then, he briefly dropped his axe and used both of his hands to apply pressure to the wand's midsection. Tonks felt the last of her fight drain away as she saw her wand of the past nine years snap in half.

"And fragile too," he remarked, as Tonks slumped to the ground in defeat. He tossed aside the broken halves, before crouching and forcibly tilting Tonks' chin up. She found herself staring directly into his blood-red iris.

"Where did Potter and Hatterfield go? Answer and I might just let you live."

London, Tonks tried to say, but the Unbreakable Vow prevented her from forcing the word out of her throat. At a loss for ideas, she stated "I don't know."

He sighed. "Almost everyone has a tell when they lie. Yours is quite obvious, even though I met you barely two minutes ago. You take way too long to respond, and you blink an unusual amount of times when you eventually do. It's as if you're trying to formulate a believable lie on the spot." His eyes narrowed, and his grip on her chin tightened. "I ask for the last time. Where did they go?"

In desperation, she tried to come up with an adequate response that would not violate the terms of the Vow. Unfortunately, because of her terrified, pain-addled state of mind, she was unable to do so. She then tried to turn and nod in the direction that Harry and Joe had left, but her neck suddenly became immobile as well. The Vow had commandeered her body.

After ten seconds of silence, he grunted. "You're a defiant one, I'll give you that. Or perhaps you're simply too terrified to respond. No matter. Potter confessed enough information already. I'll hunt them down, one way or another."

He released his hold on her, and Tonks' head painfully thumped against the ground. "Now, what am I to do with you?"

"Please . . ." Tonks croaked out.

"Please what? Spare you?" He shook his head and slowly picked up his axe. "Tell me, what exactly do I gain by leaving you alive?"

"I can magically swear to never tell anyone that I saw you," Tonks slurred feverishly. By now, she was feeling more numb than afraid, likely because of the blow her head had just sustained.

"You could, but two people are dead. Questions would certainly be raised, and I would have no guarantee that you would not find a way to pass on certain bits of information. Before long, I would become the hunted, and that simply wouldn't do, because . . ." He picked up his axe as Tonks numbly looked on, not quite comprehending what was about to happen.

". . . because the hunt must end," he stated, raising his axe above his shoulder.

In her final moments, Tonks focused on the people that mattered most. She thought of Moody, Dumbledore, and her closest friends. She thought of her mother, always so just and fearless. She thought of her father, who had been nothing but supportive in her 20 years of life. Lastly, with a degree of sadness, she thought of herself, and how she would never be able to fulfill her potential and her dreams.

Then the axe swung down.

The last thing she ever saw was the cruel gleam of her killer's red, scarlet eye. His blood eye.