O
DIONYSUS
Madness
Hope now felt as though she had met a solid wall of a dead end. Her suspicions were all well and good, but there was no proof of them and who else was she supposed to ask?
While Harry and her mother were the obvious choices, something held her back from approaching them, or any of the 'adults'. Teddy would listen, because Teddy always listened, but he was too practical and would say, much like Hope's inner voice, that the idea was preposterous and she should be prioritising her own life events.
Roxanne had always loved a wild theory. She was also close to Morella, and as Hope had initially started out her research because of Flint it was not fair to put Roxanne in an awkward position. Dom was stressed with an upcoming work deadline and wouldn't want to know. She did not feel comfortable broaching the topic with Michael, close as they had become in recent weeks.
Hope dwelled on the issue ever further as she continued with her Carlos application. She had written her essay now and started on the application form. All that remained was to find a reference, a task which she was putting off because she didn't know who to ask.
She traced a finger thoughtfully over the cover of Spirits of Spain. Perhaps it was time to return the book to Scorpius, who would be home for Easter the following week. And if she did that, maybe she could ask a couple of casual questions about William Bulstrode in the process.
O
Both Scorpius's parents were in this time around. Draco Malfoy gave her a nod and a half smile and Astoria greeted her warmly. After a few minutes of polite but not uncomfortable small talk, Hope went with Scorpius to replace the books in the library room, and, as naturally as she could, with general murmurs about how grand it was, approached the wall with the family tree.
"You've taken a liking to that, haven't you?" Scorpius observed.
"It's so cool," Hope replied. "I'd love a room like this, you know - in my mythical future house which I will never own."
She let a long silence pass before asking her question, and kept her tone as casual as possible.
"This man - William Bulstrode. Do you know anything about him?"
Scorpius came over to look.
"Must have been Cadmus and Morella's uncle," he said. "He died the same year Cadmus was born though, look."
One of the reasons Hope wanted to find out more.
"Do you know anything else about him?"
"'Fraid not. My mother might. I can go and get her."
"No, no, don't worry," Hope said hastily. Astoria, however, put her head round the door moments later to see if Hope would like a cup of tea, and Scorpius asked her anyway.
"Mother, what do you know about this man?" he enquired. "William Bulstrode?"
Astoria came over too, and ran a slender finger over the name on the tree, eyes somber.
"Bill Bulstrode," she said. "Cynthia's brother. I knew him when I was a child. Viola, their mother, died soon after Cynthia was born. Apollyon was driven into withdrawal by grief and William and Cynthia did everything together from then on. I remember them being inseparable until he went off to Hogwarts and I believe Cynthia took it very hard when he left. She was excited beyond belief to get her own Hogwarts letter so she could spend more time with him again. She is older than me, as you can see from the dates, so she was in the year above."
Hope was listening intently. Astoria sighed.
"I don't know what happened between them," she said. "But when I started Hogwarts myself the following year Cynthia refused to mention William at all. I asked her, on occasion, about him, and she clammed up every time. We were never as close as before, after that, but we stayed friends, then she left Hogwarts during her fifth year - didn't sit her exams - and I lost contact with her altogether. It was later on, once she was married to Flint, that we reconnected. I never knew Marcus growing up, even though we're related too. And Cynthia never talked about Bill again, but by then we knew he had been killed during the events of The Surge.
"He never married," Hope murmured. She couldn't ask Astoria about his girlfriend or partner. That would be bizarre.
"No, he never married or had children," Astoria confirmed. "And Apollyon died before he did. Cynthia inherited his fortune in the end. That is how the Flints came to such wealth."
No new information there. Hope's idea that Bulstrode might be alive was seeming more ridiculous by the second.
"He still left her all his money even though they had a fall out?" Scorpius seemed interested now as well, which was useful - it meant Hope wasn't arousing suspicion by asking strange questions, yet again.
Astoria shrugged.
"As to that, maybe they made up in the intervening years. If he didn't have a will she would have been the automatic beneficiary. Or maybe he left it to her deliberately as a peace offering. Cynthia has never told me, and it is not my place to pry. It must have been painful for her to lose him. Whatever happened between them later on, he was everything to her when they were young."
Hope remembered how sad she had been when Teddy had left for school, after so many years of having her big brother by her side at home as her constant friend and companion. There would have been a similar age gap here, and it must have been worse still for Cynthia, without a mother to turn to and with no one but a grieving father for company. She thought again about the ginormous inheritance. Had Bulstrode left any money to Marietta? The woman he had been with for years. Even a small amount? Surely he had left her something.
"Draco! A word. Now."
A bark had issued from the entrance hall and Scorpius stiffened at the sound.
Astoria's pretty face soured. "Why don't you two stay in here?" she said, forcing a smile towards Hope. "Or head upstairs, perhaps. My father-in-law… can be difficult at times."
"Your Grandfather?" Hope asked, as Astoria returned to the kitchen.
"Yes. He doesn't often come round. I wonder what he wants."
Lucius's next words made further wondering futile.
"Is the rumour I have heard true?" The tones were clearly audible through the half open door. "About my grandson?"
"Shit," Scorpius muttered. "You don't think-"
Hope did think. So many people knew about Albus and Scorpius by now, and Lucius had a wide network of contacts. It was a wonder, in truth, that he hadn't found out sooner.
"You'll need to be more specific, Father." Draco Malfoy's voice was glacial, as if he didn't appreciate Lucius's presence in his home any more than his wife did.
His father's voice trembled with surprised anger as he continued.
"A colleague of mine has informed me he saw Scorpius in London yesterday. With Albus Potter. In fact, where is he? Maybe I should talk to him myself."
"You can't. He's out," Astoria interjected, and there was another silence.
Hope reached out and grabbed Scorpius's hand. His face was still white. "It will be alright," she hissed. "It will. Your mother knew before everyone else and she supports you."
Draco Malfoy was now speaking again.
"If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times. I can't choose his friends for him-"
"Friends?" Lucius Malfoy repeated. "That's what you call it, is it?"
"He doesn't know," Scorpius breathed to Hope. "My father. I still haven't - He won't have a clue what's going on."
"My colleague," Lucius pressed on. "Described public displays of affection that I would consider inappropriate for anyone, so you can probably imagine my reaction-"
"We were only kissing," Scorpius protested, as, in spite of the panicked atmosphere in the drawing room, Hope turned to him with raised eyebrows and a cheeky grin. "In a private booth at the back of The Fallen Star. It's not like we were having sex in the middle of Flourish and Blotts, is it?"
"What do you have to say to that?" Lucius was saying. "Your son, Draco. Your only son."
There was no way of knowing what expressions and physical tensions were lurking beneath the icy silence, but eventually Draco could be heard again.
"I would say that Scorpius turned of age last year, and it's none of my business what he does, nor who he chooses to do it with."
Scorpius took a deep, steadying breath and turned to Hope as further outraged comments issued from the kitchen.
"I have to go and face him."
"Are you insane?"
"I have to. My father just said it. I'm an adult. I can't let my parents fight this battle for me. And I spent months telling Albus not to care what others thought of him and to get everything out in the open. How hypocritical does that make me if I won't do the same?"
"This is a bit different, Scorpius! Telling the Potters wasn't ever going to risk Albus getting physically hurt."
"He won't hurt me." Scorpius shook his head, mouth set. "Even if my father hates me for this he'll still have my back against Grandfather. It'll be three against one if he tries. And listen to him, Hope. He's a pathetic, bigoted little man. Why should I be scared of him?"
"I'd be scared of him," Hope replied with fervour, but Scorpius's face was now determined, all trace of fear wiped away.
"There's a door at the back of this room," he told her. "Follow the corridor and it takes you to the side door of the house - you remember from when I showed you round last time? You slip out that way."
"But-"
"Trust me. I've got this."
Hope relented. This was his choice. His battle, not hers.
"You'll let me know you're OK though?" she pleaded. "As soon as it's over? Send me a Wiznote message."
"Yes, I will. Promise."
Reluctantly, Hope slipped out the back of the room, heart pounding, and made her way home.
It was an agonizing wait. Neither Dom or Roxanne were around to distract her and Hope lay on her bed, Dot glued to her chest, unable to concentrate on anything else and checking her Wiznote every five seconds in case she had missed the message. Then a knock came at the door and she went rushing to open it.
Scorpius was standing there, pale but otherwise unharmed, eyes gleaming. Hope threw her arms round him in relief and Dot jumped on his shoulder and licked his ear.
"Come round to me, have you?" he asked the pygmy puff, as Hope released him and waited apprehensively. "Well. I don't think I'll be seeing much of my grandfather from now on."
"Come in! Have a drink. Are you OK? What happened?"
Scorpius accepted a butterbeer and sat down on one of their sofas, trying to recall the details of the past hour.
"I can't remember - it's all a blur. I was right, my parents had my back. He was vile, but I stood my ground. Stayed calm." He grimaced. "He said something about being a disgrace to the family. And I think I might have told him that the Potters were more family than he would ever be."
"You didn't."
"Yeah I did. Thought he was going to have a fit. He went this weird purple, blotchy colour. Then he stormed out."
Hope gaped at him for several seconds before the two of them exploded into fits of laughter. Her sides ached as she fought to stop.
"Are you alright though?" She managed to get herself under control as their giggles died away and stared at him anxiously across the room. "It must have been horrible. What about your dad? How did he take it?"
Scorpius's face sobered too at this, but he merely shrugged. "I think it would be a lie to say he was happy," he admitted. "But we'll be OK. I think. Eventually. It's not like we've ever been close, and I don't think it's done any harm. I hope my gran doesn't react like Grandfather though."
Hope shook her head fiercely.
"She won't," she said. "She'll support you. If she doesn't my own Gran will have words, you can be sure of that!"
Once Scorpius had gone to report the news to Albus and with the excitement of the day ebbing away, Hope's thoughts returned to Bulstrode. And to Flint. She had now remembered something Scorpius had once told her about Mr Flint.
Quite as bad as my grandfather, if not worse.
If not worse? Worse than the disgusting man she had heard spitting and snarling at his son and daughter-in-law simply because his grandson had a boyfriend. Now that she had had a taste of what Lucius Malfoy was capable of first hand, Hope was more determined than ever to find out about Flint.
O
First, Hope had to finish her application form. She forced herself to do every question that evening, drafted a letter to Flitwick to ask if he would provide a reference and the next morning, asked Michael if he could give it a final proof read.
"I'll look over it tonight," he assured her, glancing at the front of the form. "Your middle name is Amie?"
"Yes."
"I don't think I knew that. Who's that after?"
"No one."
"Don't believe you," Michael laughed. "It must be in honour of someone. All of us war survivor offspring have been named after special people."
"Nope." Hope shook her head. "Mum and Dad have told me. Teddy is Ted Remus after Mum's dad and Dad. So really I should have been Hope Nymphadora after my grandmother and Mum. Mum vetoed Nymphadora straight away. She didn't want Andromeda either. Her own grandmother was called Joan but she thought that was a bit old-fashioned." She dropped her voice hastily, lest their own Joan, who was busy preparing food in the kitchen, hear.
"She's pretty deaf now, don't worry," Michael murmured, and Hope grinned.
"Then they considered Layla or Lyla to try and honour Lyall, my other grandfather, but Dad said Hope Layla Lupin was too many Ls. So in the end they picked a name at random, and Amie it was. It means friend, in French," she added. This was a detail she had never enjoyed admitting before. She didn't mind so much now it finally felt as though she had friends herself.
"So it does," Michael said. "It's pretty. You must be the only one of our lot with a random name though, surely?"
Hope thought over the Weasleys before replying. "I'm not sure if Roxanne was named after anyone," she said. "But her middle name is Maya, and that's Angelina's mother. Dom was originally named after Bill's friend who died in the war, but she obviously ended up being Dominique and she changed her middle name ages ago too." Vic was Victoire Appolline, Louis was Louis Charles, after his French grandfather, Fred was Fred Arthur, and she knew Lucy and Molly had two or three middle names each, to honour the important people in Percy and Audrey's life. "What about you?" she added. "You're Michael… Frank?"
"Yes," he confirmed, looking pleased as she remembered this detail. "After both my grandfathers. Dad said the problem with being a teacher is that every name they came up with reminded him of a student. So they stuck to family names in the end."
Lily passed through at this point, red curls dancing under a jaunty hat and eyes shining with her habitual friendliness as she approached the bar.
"Lily Luna!" Michael smiled back at her. "What can I do for you?"
"Just doing a bit of last minute shopping," she said. "Thought I'd say hi." She narrowed her eyebrows at him suspiciously. "What's with the middle name?"
Hope explained about their discussion and Lily ordered a butterbeer and a cauldron cake while she joined in. "Hugo was named after Hermione's grandad Hugh," she confirmed. "And his middle name is Rubeus, for Hagrid. Mrs Granger is called Rosemary, so that's where Rose came from. Ron agreed to names from Hermione's side of the family, as she's an only child."
"And Rosie doesn't have a second name, does she?" Michael said. "I think she told me that once."
Lily and Hope exchanged amused looks at this.
"That's what she tells everyone," Hope said. "Not true though."
"Rosie Weasley has been telling lies?" Michael exclaimed with some indignation. "What is it then?"
Hope hesitated, knowing how much Rosie would hate for the information to be divulged, but Lily had no such qualms.
"Minerva," she said. "As in Minerva McGonagall."
"No way!"
"Rose hates it," Hope sniggered. "She thinks Ron and Hermione must have been drunk when they picked it. Personally I don't think it's so bad. McGonagall is seriously cool, I wouldn't mind being named after her. That's why James sometimes calls her Minnie, though, to wind her up. It's not because she was tiny when she was born. She was a perfectly average sized baby."
Michale let out a bark of laughter.
"Amazing. I never knew that."
"Al is the only one in our family who has reason to complain about his name, in my opinion," Lily sighed. "Poor old Albus Severus. Everyone else gets named after grandfathers and grandmothers and godfathers and best friends. Al gets the man who raised Dad to fight Voldemort when he was a kid and the ex Death Eater who hated him. And yes, I know they were both heroes. But still, I feel Mum should have put her foot down there."
Still laughing, Michael turned to serve a customer and Hope fixed Lily with a playful look.
"So come on. How are things with Aaron?"
"Oh, you mean Aaron the Arsehole? Turns out he's a total prick." Lily did not seem too upset. "We did go out in January. He spent our entire date talking about how rich he's going to make himself. Didn't ask me a single question about myself. I dumped him when we got back to school."
"Good for you," Hope said approvingly. "How did he take it?"
"Seemed shocked that I would want to break up with him," Lily snorted. "After he told me how much money he's going to have. As if money would make him less of a prick. Although." She paused with the butterbeer half raised to her mouth and amended herself. "I think James has actually been nicer since he got his Gringotts promotion, so maybe it's not fair to say that money always brings out the worst in people."
"True," Hope muttered, suddenly thoughtful. Lily's words had given her an idea.
James held a senior position at Gringotts. He might, at least, be able to find out about Bulstrode's money, how the inheritance had worked, if there was anything strange about it, if money had gone to Marietta. That would be a starting point, more so than any other idea she had come up with.
When Lily had moved on to Diagon Alley, Hope pulled out her Wiznote. James had said that he owed her, and that she could call on him. She doubted this was what he had held in mind, but it was worth a shot.
"Can we meet for a drink this week?"
"Are you asking me out on a date?"
"Don't be gross. But I do need to ask you something."
"Sure. Tomorrow 8pm at The Fallen Star? Or are you working then?"
"No, finish at 7. See you then."
O
"What can I do for you?" James enquired, pushing forwards the drink he had insisted on buying her.
"Thanks." She took a swig before elaborating. "Um. I was... wondering. What exactly do you do at work?"
"Relationship management," James said promptly. "It's my job to make sure the customers are happy, that they are getting the service expected, that they have trust in the advice they are being given, that they feel their investments are safe. Stuff like that. Gobilns aren't too hot on the customer service aspect."
"And can you access the records of anyone who's ever had a vault at Gringotts?"
"Oh yeah. Money in, money out, transactions, vaults opened and closed. You name it. I'm very high up and important, don't you know."
He pulled a face that was uncannily like Percy's, and Hope grinned at him, before screwing up her courage and blurting out her request.
"Would you - Do you think you might be able to look up a couple of people for me? I'm doing some research and I need to find out if there's anything… unusual… about their accounts."
"Let me get this straight." James appeared outraged. "You want me to risk my job security on some random research project."
Hope was trying to work out if he was serious when his face split with a smile again and his eyes sparkled.
"Come on then. Who do you want to know about?"
Hope handed him the piece of parchment on which she had scribbled Marcus Flint, William Bulstrode and Marietta Edgecombe. James's eyebrows shot skywards as he read it.
"Quite an eclectic mix you've got here." He read them again then looked up at her. "What's this about?"
"I don't know... exactly. Flint inherited Bulstrode's money when he died, but I'm wondering if any other money passed between those people. Or even if there was anything strange about their accounts. Particularly around the early 2000s. I know that doesn't make much sense, but... maybe you could still have a look?"
Only James, she knew, would have leapt at this cryptic, unspecific challenge. He was already looking animated.
"If I come up with some good stuff will you tell me more?"
"Depends how good the 'stuff' is, doesn't it?"
"Alright, Miss Lupin. You have yourself a deal. Give me two days."
O
It took James only a day and a half, and he ambushed Hope during his lunch break to bring her his findings. Hope, working with Hannah today, told her she was going for a lunchtime stroll in the sun herself, and she and James found a deserted corner of the alley to sit down.
"Well?"
"Right. I haven't got anything on Edgecombe," he started. "There's nothing unusual about her accounts at all. Unless you count the fact that a teacher's salary is crap. She got a bit more when she became head of house but it's seriously crap."
He shook his head as if in disbelief that anyone would do such a low paid job.
"Marcus and Cynthia Flint have had a joint account since being married, but they were dirt poor until 2005. Then they inherited Bulstrode's money. Which you knew, didn't you?"
"Yes. From Morella."
"That was a straightforward inheritance and nothing complicated about it. But for Bulstrode," James continued. "It gets a lot more interesting. He made a huge withdrawal from his vault in July 2005. And then nothing went in or out of it until he died, except for his normal royalties."
"How much did he take out?"
"One hundred thousand galleons. He had to take it out over two days, because they only let you withdraw fifty thousand at a time."
"Woah."
"I know, and it was unusual too. His withdrawals prior to that were very small amounts - no more than a couple of hundred at a time."
Hope nodded slowly, still trying to make sense of this information. She couldn't really see where it fitted in, but it was interesting, no doubt about that.
"Thanks," she said. "Thanks a lot. I appreciate you looking. I know you didn't have to."
James was indignant at this.
"You surely don't think that's all I brought you, do you?"
"There's more?"
"You wanted good stuff, didn't you? I'm delivering."
He cast a look around. There was no one within earshot but he lowered his voice all the same.
"Every galleon, sickle and knut in the world has a serial number branded on to it. A number that is unique to the coin. And after the war, every one of them was made traceable - that's still the case today."
"So you can tell where all the money in the world is?" Hope had never considered this before.
James made a less than impressed sound in his throat.
"Sort of. Not whose possession it's in, but you can trace its current and previous locations. It's to help them track down stolen money. In my opinion, it's pointless. If someone stole a sackful of galleons and then hid it in an unplottable house, it might never be found, because the protective enchantments would take precedence over the tracing charm. But you get what I mean."
"That makes sense. So?"
"So, I may have spent a not-so-productive afternoon finding out where all William Bulstrode's withdrawn galleons ended up, and the results were pretty damn surprising."
"Why?"
"Because all of them were taken out of the country at the end of 2005, a few months after he withdrew them from his vault. They've since dispersed, bit by bit, but almost always moving from the same location. Looks from the map to be little wizarding hamlet near the Alps. French side."
"The Alps?"
Now Hope was more lost than ever.
"Want to know the best part?"
"I guess."
"The date they left the country was December sixteenth. 2005. The day of The Final Surge. The day Bulstrode died."
An electrifying chill passed down Hope's spine. James was drawn up, looking pleased with himself, aware he'd dropped a small bombshell, even if he didn't know the details.
"Hope, what's going on? You have to tell me now."
Hope didn't want to say, but she was way out of her depth here, and for every new piece of information came an additional dose of confusion.
"You know you can trust me," James persisted. "You've got to admit I've brought you some cool information here. That was our deal. I bring you good stuff, you tell me what's going on."
Hope relented and explained. James was a satisfying and admiring audience as she recounted how she had initially been suspicious on finding out about Bulstrode's relation to the Flints and how she had started asking around to see if criminal activity could be pinned on Flint, before her intrigue had escalated, bringing her focus onto Bulstrode and what had happened to him.
"You are following in your parents' footsteps, aren't you! Little detective."
"Not really," Hope snorted. "And I don't get what it all means. Did Bulstrode fake his death and move to France, knowing they would find out about his involvement in The Surge and convict him for it, wanting to get away and have a free life before that happened? Knowing his money would go to a relative and they would be able to give him more if he ever ran out?"
"It looks like it might be that way," James said, forehead furrowed in thought. "Why did you ask about Edgecombe?"
"Oh. They were together. Her and Bulstrode. I know that from Hermione. I wondered if he'd left her any money."
"No sign of it. I cross referenced them and there were no transfers between the two accounts, and the entire vault switched into Flint's name in early 2006. There was no split inheritance."
He chewed his lip for a second then shrugged.
"Well, there's something weird going on, and we can't go and ask Flint about it, can we? Even if he wasn't your ex-boyfriend's dad, I don't fancy crossing him. We also can't search every square inch of the Alps in case William Bulstrode's hiding behind a tree. So I think it's time we paid a post graduate visit to Hogwarts to do some research on Edgecombe's relationship. What do you think? As soon as the Easter holidays are over?"
Hope laughed until she realised he was serious.
"Are you mad?" she said in disbelief. "I can't walk up to an old teacher and ask her about her partner who died eighteen years ago. There could be a hundred explanations. Maybe his money got stolen before he was caught. Maybe he paid someone to do a job for him. It's very likely that William Bulstrode died in The Surge as records say, the money got passed on to someone else, and the drawings in Alex's letters are from a clever, everlasting spell."
"It is very likely," James agreed. "But you don't think that, do you? You think he's alive."
"I'm almost certainly wrong."
"What if you're not wrong?" His eyes were alight with mischief, egging her on. Only James - and possibly Roxanne - had this power of persuasion over her. "What if Bulstrode survived and got away without punishment after all the terrible things he did? If he's been sunning himself in France all these years that's a massive miscarriage of justice. You'd be helping."
Hope cast around helplessly, half of her swayed by James's forceful personality, the other half wishing she had never set eyes on Scorpius's family tree and wanting nothing more than to go home and curl up in bed with Dot.
"Wouldn't it be best to go to your dad, or my mum?" she said. "They'd handle this better than we would."
"What can they do? We don't have any proper evidence and I'll get into trouble for abusing my work privileges. We need more than this. As Edgecombe was close to Bulstrode, she'll be a good next step."
"Yes, but what am I supposed to say? Oh hi Professor Edgecombe. I know you hated me for five years, but you could tell me if your ex partner faked his death and moved to France?"
Disappointment in her replaced pride within James's expression. "Hope, I'm notorious for my lack of subtlety and even I could do better than that. Come on, think - isn't there a reason you might need to talk to her. She was your head of house and you only left school last summer. Old grades, maybe - an essay? NEWT results?"
A reference. She needed a reference for the Carlos course. She still hadn't sent the letter to Flitwick and Edgecombe would be an equally suitable choice.
"I might have an excuse to go and see her in the first place," Hope acknowledged, with some reluctance. "But that doesn't help with what I'm going to say when I get there."
"Could you be honest? Give her the facts and say you think it's suspicious and you're coming to her for advice because she's your old defence teacher?"
It was Hope's turn to look unimpressed.
"She isn't going to buy that, is she? Not when my mum and your dad are Aurors and Hermione's head of the Department of Magical Law."
"Alright. Fair point."
Hope thought hard. It was impossible not to be drawn in by James persistent nature.
"I have an idea," she sighed at last.
It was a roundabout way of getting there, but Edgecombe had once asked her is she needed to talk about Cadmus. If she touched on it now, got onto Flint that way, mentioned Bulstrode in connection with Flint, gauged the teacher's reaction and took it from there...
That is never going to work and you know it. You can't even say Cadmus's name out loud.
Hope hadn't heard the voice in her head for several weeks, and now was not the time for it to make a reappearance. Not when she was finally getting somewhere with her research into Bulstrode.
"Alright." She committed to the plan out loud before she had a chance to change her mind. "Fine. Let's give it a go."
oOo
April
Hope felt sick with nerves as she knocked on her old professor's door. This was a bad idea. Such a bad idea. Why had she let James talk her into it? Maybe she could make a bolt for it if-
The door had swung open.
"Miss Lupin!" Edgecombe was visibly astonished but recovered her composure with reasonable speed. "Um. Come in. Come in. What can I do for you?"
Voice shaking slightly, with many stops and starts, Hope explained about her application to the Carlos Institute course, and her need for an academic reference. "And I know my exams didn't go well," she finished. "But I'm trying to get it back on track. And this course seems like it would be really good for me. A - a fresh start, I guess."
"Of course." The teacher nodded. "Absolutely. I'd be delighted to provide a reference for you. The institute's programmes are rated highly and I think you're right. You'd benefit from them."
Hope was so thrilled that for a minute she forgot why she had come in the first place. Edgecombe was clearly waiting for her to continue speaking.
"Was there anything else?" she prompted at last.
Now she was here, Hope felt more ridiculous than ever. How could she possibly march up to a teacher and talk to her about her deceased partner?
"Nothing," she mumbled, getting to her feet. James would be disappointed in her but so be it. "Nothing. Thanks a lot. I appreciate it. I'll send you the information for completing the reference."
She shuffled towards the door.
"Hope. Wait a moment."
The teacher had stood up as well, eyes shrewd, with a slight shake of the head.
"You did not come all the way up to northern Scotland on a rainy Tuesday simply to ask me to be your reference, when you could have sent me an owl. You aren't the first student to apply to Carlos and I know perfectly well that their reference process is automated."
Hope felt her cheeks go warm, but was quick enough with the morph to hide the red staining her skin.
"What is it?" Edgecombe said. Her voice was gentle. "Can I help you with something else? I did tell you in the past I was here if you needed to talk and that still stands."
This stretched the boundaries of that sentiment, Hope thought grimly. But if she didn't ask now who else was she going to go to? She had come this far.
"OK, I did come about one other thing. It's about - about -" She screwed up every ounce of courage but the idea, now, of mentioning Cadmus's name to her old teacher was sickening. "About the Flints," she said at last.
"Right."
The teacher's expression was instantly guarded and Hope's planned, careful speech with her step by step, rational way of getting onto Bulstrode had gone from her mind. Her brain was a blank stretch of fog. She was going to have to wing it.
"The thing is, I know they were related to William Bulstrode," she said in a rush.
Edgecombe's head jerked in shock. Her originally loss of composure on seeing her former student was nothing compared to how she looked now.
"What did you say?" she whispered.
"I - I found out something," Hope ploughed on. She couldn't quite believe she was still speaking, but staying silent was more awkward still and so the words came out in a garbled mess. "I know this is weird and - and inappropriate, and - and I am sorry. But I don't think anyone else knows and I think it's important. I think Bulstrode might be alive. My friend Alex has letters that he sent him when they were younger. They were at school together. With moving pictures. Pictures he created. The letters, I mean. Have pictures. And the pictures are still moving - the magic is still going. And - and - I think that's odd, and-" Having said it out loud, her rationale sounded as flimsy as gossamer but she couldn't tell the professor about James's research and risk getting her friend into trouble too. "And there are other weird things going on," she finished lamely. "But I do think he's alive. I think the Flints might have been involved and I think he might have faked his own death before The Final Surge or - or something like that and - and got away."
Edgecombe's face was indescribable as Hope's ramble tailed off. She could feel her face burning. What a mess she had made of that. Had that been herself speaking? She had sounded like a complete lunatic.
"You think William Bulstrode faked his death," Edgecombe repeated slowly. "Why are you coming to me with this information?"
"Because I know you - knew him." Hope was starting to feel panic closing in. Why, why, why had she come? "You knew him for a long time, back then. I don't understand what's going on but I thought - I thought you might have more information. Or - or - it might help... if - if you knew."
"You need to leave my office." Edgecombe's voice was shaking. "Right now. How dare you come here with a declaration like that, under the pretence of requesting an academic reference."
"That wasn't a pretence," Hope protested, her voice cracking now, thinking of how delighted she had been moments ago. Why had she ruined it? "It wasn't. I am applying to the intensive study course. Really I am. I swear I am. I wasn't lying about that."
Breath, she instructed herself. You are not going to have a panic attack in front of Edgecombe.
Edgecombe took a deep breath herself.
"Then as your former teacher and head of house I will do my duty in providing you with a reference," she said. The words were as wooden as the desk in front of her. "But you are to leave right now. If you have a similar request in future you are to send me an owl as anyone else would have done. I never want to see you here again. Now get out of my office."
Hope did not need to be told a third time.
O
"How did it-?" James faltered at the look on her face as she stumbled towards him through the rain. It had intensified, the clouds now black and thunderous above them.
"We should never have come," she burst out. "I can't believe I let you talk me into it. I always make a mess of things, I always have. Especially here. I hate it here. Everything goes wrong for me here."
"Hope-"
James tried to catch her arm to calm her down but she jerked it away.
"Hey, hey, it's going to be fine. We'll leave now. Hope, please don't be upset. It doesn't matter. We can forget the whole thing-"
"What are you two doing here?"
It was Lily in her mud splattered quidditch robes, hair soaking wet, doused out of its normal curls and plastered to her scalp. She was apparently on her way back from a very weather beaten pre-breakfast practice but she dropped her bag on her ground the second she saw Hope's stricken face.
"Hope? What's up?" She grabbed Hope by the wrist and pulled her into a hug before rounding on her brother. "What have you done now?"
"Me?"
"Yes, you. When someone's upset and you're around, it's normally your fault."
"It's not his fault," Hope said, drawing back. Lily's touch on her wrists was helping to bring her back down to earth. Something she could feel. She felt in control again. "It's not his fault. It's been a strange morning. My fault, if anything. We'll explain another time. Come on James, let's get out of here before a teacher finds us."
O
That evening, back at home in the warm and calmer, Hope reflected on the day. So she had made a mistake. A big mistake. She could put it behind her. There was no love lost between herself and Edgecombe. She had other teachers who could write her a reference if necessary. She was going to be fine. A mistake was a mistake and it was now in the past. She was ashamed of her outburst in the school grounds, but she tried not to dwell on that either.
Her Wiznote glowed with a message from Lily.
"You OK?"
"Fine thanks. Sorry about earlier."
"You don't need to apologise. If it is James's fault let me know and I'll see to him."
"Ha - thanks. But no need."
"Your strange morning... was it anything to do with Edgecombe?"
Hope stared down at the most recent message, and very slowly drew out a one word reply.
"Why?"
"Just wondering. She wasn't around today. Didn't turn up to any classes and she wasn't in her lodgings. And it was unexpected, none of the other teachers knew she was going to be absent."
Great, Hope thought, flinging the Wiznote aside without replying. Really bloody great. If the teacher had had some kind of breakdown and left school that would now be her fault too.
Two minutes later, the Wiznote glowed again, this time with a message from her mother.
"Can you come round? ASAP. We need to talk."
Oh dear.
o
o
Tonks was having a bad week. She didn't know exactly what was wrong - likely a culmination of factors. The house was a mess. She kept sniping at Remus and could tell his patience was wearing thinner by the day. She was trying to be upbeat and buoyant about Teddy's recent news, but proud as she was of her son, Teddy's own attitude was contagious, and she couldn't help but feel depressed that, for now at least, Remus's own chances of a cure were slim. At work, Collins was being useless, Bentley overbearing and Cragg whiny. Hughes - always in a good mood and normally an excellent colleague for breaking the tension - was on annual leave, and Tonks was being shadowed by Yenglik Karasova, a trainee who had started two weeks previously. Her application and interviews had shown exceptional promise, but it seemed that Yenglik was incapable of getting through an hour of work without asking twenty tedious questions, which meant Tonks's own work was progressing at a slower rate as well.
"Auror Lupin?" Yenglik came timidly up behind her as she finished report four of fifteen left to complete before the end of the week.
"Yes."
"I filed those reports in Incomplete - is that right?"
"Did you not manage to finish coding them?"
"No - I did. They're all done."
"Then I'd suggest getting a dictionary," Tonks snapped before she could stop herself. "Or maybe a thesaurus. Incomplete means unfinished, you see."
The girl's face crumpled in an instant. Bentley, the only other Auror working late on office duty that day and well within earshot, raised his head from his own notes and stared at his colleague in utter disbelief.
"I thought a senior Auror had to sign them off," Yenglik mumbled, looking down at her shoes.
"They get signed off from the complete section," Bentley interjected, coming over. "Don't worry, it's a two second fix. You should go and take five minutes," he added, for Yenglik was blinking furiously, eyes now welling up.
"What the hell are you playing at?" he demanded, rounding on Tonks once Yenglik was out of earshot. "You can't treat a trainee like that. We need people like her in this department and at this rate she'll walk out of here before she's started on the practical training."
"Can you leave me alone and let me finish my work. I'm delayed enough as it is."
"Well, I can tell you that making snide comments to all and sundry isn't going to get you through it any faster. I don't know what's going on but quite frankly you've been insufferable these last few days."
"I've been insufferable?" Tonks got to her feet herself at this, facing Bentley with an ugly scowl.
"Yes, you have. I don't know what your problem is but get it together."
"You know you aren't a ray of sunshine at the best of times, Bentley."
"I've yet to make a trainee cry, I'll have you know."
"Look, I'm not-"
"What is going on?" Harry had appeared in the entrance to the office, face like thunder, green eyes flashing. Both fell silent immediately, but neither of them answered him.
"I've just sent Karasova home in tears and now I find you two having a shouting match. Bentley, call it a day, please. Lupin - my office. Now."
Tonks slammed her quill down and followed Harry along the corridor.
"Care to explain to me what this is about?" he asked, as she shut the door behind her with considerable force. "I've never known you insult a colleague much less reduce one to tears. You've done both in the space of five minutes."
"I insulted Savage a fair few times," Tonks countered. "As did you." Harry's stony expression didn't shift an inch.
"It's not funny, Tonks. What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong. I'm fine."
"Yeah. Thing is. You're clearly not. So-"
"Harry!"
Hermione, looking frazzled, had flung open the office door without knocking. Harry's fingers flexed outwards, as though he were praying to someone to give him strength, before he turned towards her with an air of forced calm.
"Yes, Hermione."
"We need to talk. Urgently."
"I'll leave you to it," Tonks said, grateful for the timely excuse and making to slope out of the door, but Hermione interjected.
"Actually, Tonks, I know you're busy, but if you're able to stay... I think you should hear this too."
"Oh." Tonks's heart sank at the thought of staying later, of having more work to pile on, but it was unlike Hermione to look so discomposed. "Sure. No problem."
Hermione took a seat and shuffled through several pages of notes, as Tonks and Harry sat down themselves.
"Marietta Edgecombe came to me today," Hermione told them. "No appointment, nothing. She left Hogwarts and turned up in my office asking for a talk."
"OK." Harry had clearly not been expecting this, but he recovered quickly from the double take and reached for his parchment and quill. "What about?"
Hermione spread her notes out on her lap, apparently struggling for the eloquent speech that normally came to her with such ease.
"To be honest, I don't even know where to start. It was all jumbled up. But primarily what she said concerns William Bulstrode and the run up to The Surge."
"Alright." Harry dipped his quill in the ink pot. "Fire away."
"First off, no point mincing words. She thinks Bulstrode might be alive."
The quill stabbed at the parchment as Harry's hand jerked in surprise, and several ink drops spattered the desk.
"I'm sorry. What?"
"She thinks Bulstrode is alive?" Tonks repeated. "William Bulstrode who was blown up in his own house nearly twenty years ago?"
"Yes."
"That's not possible," Harry said baldly. "His body was found at the scene. He had serious burns from the explosion but he was recognisable and he was definitely dead. I was there.' He gestured to Tonks. 'We were both there. St Mungo's identified him and he was cremated two weeks later."
"I'm only relaying to you what Edgecombe told me, Harry. She has a strong feeling that Bulstrode might be alive, and she wouldn't say why. She did give me some other disjointed pieces of information. I was hoping together we might make sense of them."
"OK." Harry's hand tightened around the quill again. "Tell me everything she said and then we'll see where we stand."
Hermione took a few moments to get her notes in order and Tonks sat back slightly, mind alert, intrigued by this new development. It was more interesting than report writing, at least.
"She says that in the summer of 2005, William Bulstrode got in contact with his sister, Cynthia Flint. They hadn't spoken properly for years but Bulstrode wanted to reconnect with her. The Flints were in financial trouble at the time and William offered to help. Cynthia, however, was angry with him about a previous family feud and turned him away. Later that evening, Marcus Flint came round to his brother-in-law's house. He did want money. Initially Bulstrode was unwilling to speak to him and wanted to discuss the issue with Cynthia in person, but when Flint threatened to hurt Marietta, he agreed to Flint's demands."
Tonks muttered several profanities about Flint. Harry's expression was unreadable as he jotted this down.
"How much money are we talking?"
"Flint wanted one hundred thousand galleons."
Harry's dark eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"And Bulstrode agreed to that?"
"Yes, he went to get it out of his vault over the following two days."
Hermione was still looking down at the notes.
"However," she went on. "Two days later, Flint came back. This time, he apologised. He said he had lost his temper and did not wish to take the gold under such terms. And that although he and Cynthia were struggling for money they refused to accept charity."
"What?" Tonks broke in, as a perplexed line appeared in Harry's forehead. "He did a complete U-turn?"
"Yes," Hermione said. "For a while they thought nothing of it, suspected that Cynthia had something to do with the change of heart, because she had refused all help from William when he first went to see her."
Hermione flipped over to the next page of her scribbles.
"Not long after, Marietta says William began to act strangely. He was a reserved man in general, but this was to an extreme, refusing to talk to her, refusing to eat, staying locked down in his study for most of the day and night."
"He was plotting deadly attacks on muggles," Tonks muttered irritably. "Probably took up quite a lot of his time." Both Harry and Hermione disregarded this.
"Marietta had planned to confront him about it," Hermione continued. "But before she had a chance to do that, she had to go into hospital."
"Did she say why?"
"Um." Hermione's voice held a sympathetic tone now as she glanced instinctively towards Tonks. "Pseudocyesis."
It was Tonks turn to do a double take. "She thought she was pregnant?"
"Yes, believed the baby was due in August. She hadn't had scans or appointments but she'd had positive pregnancy potions and all the usual signs of pregnancy. The baby appeared to be there. Until - days before what she believed was the due date - it wasn't."
Tonks was staring blankly down at her hands. "I'm fine," she said, as Hermione threw her a second nervous look. "Fine. Really. Please go on."
Hermione consented to continue with apparent reluctance.
"Marietta doesn't remember anything after that except waking up in hospital the following day. She was, naturally, devastated, and apparently left the hospital after finding out the news. She then collapsed at some point the next day and was readmitted. It was a stranger who found her and brought her to St Mungo's. Bulstrode, meanwhile, was nowhere to be seen."
"So he abandoned her when she couldn't give him a child," Tonks said coldly. "Charming."
Hermione's lip trembled.
"And she never saw him again."
"At all?" Harry clarified, scanning the notes he had made. "This was in... August? And William didn't die until December."
"That's right," Hermione confirmed. "She spent ten days in the hospital. She sent several messages to William and did not hear back. She was very weak, and the toll on her mental health was catastrophic. The healers were not willing to discharge her, but after ten days, she took matters into her own hands and left in the middle of the night. She spent the next week looking for William, but couldn't find him anywhere. She also couldn't find his house, which she had been visiting for the past five years."
"Then why didn't she tell anyone?" Harry asked. "Alert the Ministry, report him as missing? There was no record of Bulstrode's disappearance prior to The Final Surge, was there?"
"Why don't you try losing a child and the person you love," Tonks snapped at him. "And see if you're in a position to file a missing persons report."
The look Harry shot her was apologetic this time, but she was too angry to notice the difference. Hermione intervened before either could speak again.
"Tonks is essentially right. Marietta said earlier that she acknowledges she should have done more at the time. But she was broken down completely. It took her years to recover from this, especially once Bulstrode's role in The Surge became known."
Harry rubbed his eyes, which were heavy with weariness, before scanning the notes in front of him yet again.
"So - strong feeling that Bulstrode's alive... He was acting strangely in the summer prior to The Final Surge... Abandoned his partner… Then he apparently disappeared off the face of the earth, four months before he turned up dead, blown up in his own home. Am I to understand that we are being asked to reexamine Bulstrode's case with the view that he might have faked his own death to escape punishment?"
"That's what I thought Marietta was getting at," Hermione sighed. "Until she told me one final thing."
"Which was?"
"She says he's innocent."
Tonks had a feeling that Harry's head was about to explode, but he merely re-inked his quill went down to another line on his parchment.
"Why does she say that?"
"She doesn't believe that William was capable of crimes against muggles. She said over and over again that he was a good man and an honest man, and that if he did cause harm he was coerced or wasn't aware of his actions. She also thinks Flint might be involved, because everything started going wrong when he came on the scene."
Harry seemed to be waiting for further explanation and when no more came he stared helplessly at his old friend.
"That's it? Hermione, personal feeling is nothing to go on. And anyway, he can't be alive and innocent. Neither make much sense. But if Bulstrode is alive, it's because he faked his death to escape Azkaban. I guess it's plausible - we do know that Polyjuice potion played a substantial role in The Surge in general."
"Hold on, that would have come up on the autopsy," Tonks broke in. "If someone else had been used for his corpse. Wouldn't it?" Hermione and Harry exchanged a glum look.
"I doubt it," Hermione said. "Scanning for pre-death Polyjuice isn't a standard check, is it? And no one requested it to my knowledge. St Mungo's were as understaffed as the Auror department at the time - they wouldn't have given themselves extra work without reason."
Harry agreed with this statement.
"So Bulstrode being alive is a possibility," he acknowledged. "Still unlikely, but one we need to look into. Him being innocent is even less likely, given the amount of evidence we discovered in his house, but again, in theory I suppose he could have been framed. Not both. It can't be both. If he was innocent, why would he have faked his death?"
"I know, Harry," Hermione shot back at him. "I know that and I'm as confused as you are. I'm telling you what she said like you asked me to."
"Why has she come forward now?" Tonks interjected, as Harry nodded with visible contrition. "Nearly twenty years later?"
"She wouldn't say that either."
"Any idea why she came to you? You weren't exactly friendly at school, were you? Not after all that Dumbledore's Army business."
"Not at school, no, but we did have a conversation - quite a personal one - when she worked at the Ministry. I think I told you, Harry. The conversation where I found out she and Bulstrode had been in a relationship."
"Yes, I remember," Harry murmured. "When was that?"
"When she worked on the Imperium Fraud cases, so six or seven years ago. I don't think I've spoken to her properly since, but at the time there was a brief moment of connection, and trust. I told her she could always talk to me if she needed to. Maybe that's why she's come back to me now."
There was a dense silence in the office. Harry looked as though he now had a throbbing headache.
"Is there anything else?" he said at last.
"I don't think so." Hermione consulted her notes again then shrugged. "She took multiple temp jobs in the Auror office over the years to try and find out more information, but there is nothing in the records about Bulstrode that isn't public knowledge. She said on multiple occasions that William wasn't capable of committing the atrocities of The Surge. And like I said, she believes Flint may have been involved, because the troubles began when he reached out to his sister. But she has no supporting evidence for that either, other than the account of Flint's trespass on their home and the threat to her, which are entirely separate issues."
Harry scratched at some stubble on his chin and looked down at the notes he had taken himself, eyes wild with despair.
"Look. Please don't jump down my throat when I say this, either of you," he said, voice leaden with caution. "I remember working with Edgecombe. She was always a little… odd. A bit erratic. It's understandable given the amount she had to endure in a short space of time. But-"
"You're saying she's a lunatic," Tonks cut over him. "Mentally deranged because she's been through trauma."
"I just asked you not to jump down my throat."
Smouldering green met defiant blue as Hermione looked sharply between them. "I don't know what's going on here," she said. "I've never known you two talk to each other like this and now is not the time to start. If even some of what Edgecombe said is true then it's deadly serious. It means everything we thought we knew about The Surge could be wrong. It's possible that she got her facts confused, however-" she held up a firm hand as Tonks opened her mouth again, "I am not saying that traumatic experiences automatically lead to a mental breakdown. There is another reason why we need to take her claims seriously. I've barely mentioned Bulstrode's name in all the years since his trial, but Hope was asking me about him last month. Him, Theodore Nott and Marcus Flint. Said she was doing a project on The Surge but her questions were specific to the extreme, questions like could Bulstrode have been under the Imperious curse... could Flint have duped Veritaserum... And that seems a very odd coincidence, to me."
Harry was now alert. "Hope's been asking Bulstrode? And Flint? And a few weeks later Edgecombe turns up in your office with information about both of them?"
"Now you mention it, she asked me about Bulstrode as well." Tonks was so surprised that she forgot to be angry for a second. "Back in January. Wondered if I was at school with him. I think she asked if Remus taught him, too."
"Did she ask you about Flint?" Harry asked.
"Only Bulstrode," Tonks confirmed. "Flint's not exactly a popular name in our house, if you remember."
Harry chose again not to rise to the acidic tone of voice. The tired look had gone from his face now, after this unexpected revelation.
"We need to find out why she was asking."
Tonks knew that would be her job. Why was life never simple?
"I'll talk to her. Tonight if I can."
"Great. Appreciate that," Hermione said. "I'm going to look into other contacts who might be able to help us out."
Harry and Tonks sat in stony silence once she had bustled up the hall.
"You should head home," Harry said, jotting down a few more notes. "You're to take tomorrow off too. If you can get information from Hope then we'll look over it on Monday."
"I'm fine. I don't need a day off."
"So you've said, but as your friend, I disagree, and as your superior I'm overruling you. I don't want to see you here tomorrow."
O
Tonks crashed home in a towering temper and Remus came through to the kitchen, summoned by the sound of mugs being slammed into the cupboard from their innocent place on the draining board.
"What on earth-"
"What do you want for dinner?" Tonks asked him brusquely.
"Perhaps… the lasagne that's just finished cooking?"
"I've told Hope to come round. I need to speak to her. Will there be enough if she wants some?"
"Yes." The veil that separated tolerance and irritation in Remus's demeanour was hanging by a single thread. "More than enough. Some for you to take for lunch tomorrow too."
"I'm not working tomorrow."
There was a bewildered silence.
"I thought you were on office duty all week?"
"Harry told me to take the day off."
"Why?"
More silence.
"Dora, what's happened?"
"Nothing's happened. I'm fine."
"You're clearly not. You've been off for days - weeks actually - and if Harry's told you to take the day off then he thinks so too. So what is wrong?"
His eyes bore into hers and she slumped down in a chair, deflating. Only Remus had that ability to defuse her temper with a single look.
"I don't know, alright?" she said. "I know I'm being unbearable. Or insufferable, as Bentley so charmingly put it today. I don't know why."
He sat down next to her, tone gentler now, knowing they were in safer territory, and on the way to an honest talk.
"Is it Hope? Why do you need to talk to her?"
"I need to get a couple of things straight - about an issue that came up at work today. But she's OK as far as I know."
Remus merely waited.
"I feel angry. And upset," Tonks said at last. "Have done for days. Nothing is helping."
There was a pause as Remus contemplated whether to say what was on his mind.
"Dora, I know you don't look it, but you are in your fifties now-"
She cottoned onto this train of thought at once, head snapping up in indignation.
"If you so much as whisper the word menopausal, Remus Lupin."
"I'm just saying."
"Well don't just say. That's not what this is."
"Then what is this? Have I upset you?
"Of course not."
"Alright. You said it wasn't about Hope. Are you sure? I wouldn't blame you for being worried about her - she is still recovering. Or Teddy, even? He was pretty down about his 'setback' the other week."
Her eyes welled up before the sentence was fully formed, and seconds later she had dissolved into tears in his arms.
"Teddy's research?" Remus repeated blankly, patting her on the back then stroking her hair. "That's upsetting you? He'll bounce back. He always does. He's accepted that he's made phenomenal progress, and he's already onto his next experiment."
Tonks continued to cry and in the end he held her and let the words come on their own, as he knew they must eventually.
"I'm not worried about Teddy," Tonks sniffed as the tears began to dry up. "I think - I think I'm worried about you."
He drew back in astonishment.
"Me?"
"The cure not working. For you. Ever."
Remus looked so thunderstruck she gave another irritated sigh. "For God's sake Remus, I thought we were past the days of you being shocked that I actually give a damn about you."
"OK, OK." He held up his hands in an attempt to stave off further snappish comments. "Yes. We are. But-"
His voice was soft as he cast around for the right words.
"Dora, we've always known this was a long shot. I am so proud of Teddy - and I support him indefinitely and unconditionally - but I've never truly believed that a cure would be found in my lifetime. Not one that will work for me, on a bite that's sixty years old. I thought you'd accepted that too."
"I thought I had," Tonks admitted, voice still thick. "But when Teddy told us the other week, I guess I realized I had been counting on it. For you. And for me. And - and I don't know why it hit me then. Especially not when we spent the first two years of our relationship being hunted down by dear Aunt Bellatrix. I guess it was the first time I properly thought about - about… if something does happen. If a transformation does go wrong again and I- I-"
"Have to go on alone."
Remus finished the sentence she could not in a whisper and a couple of tears broke free from her lashes, grazing her cheeks. He leant forwards and grasped both her hands.
"Dora, I understand. Of course I understand. Do you know how many times in my life I have felt that fear, that terror that can only be of losing you, or the children. It's the price we all pay for love, isn't it? The knowledge that the worst day I could ever live through might be lurking in my future, and if so I have no control over when."
She could only nod.
"But." His voice was firm. "I told Hope back in the summer and I'm telling you now. I'm not planning on going anywhere. My last few years of transformations have been no harder than the ones I had years ago. They are part of my life. An inconvenience rather than a threat. I wish to lead a long and healthy life with you by my side and I will do everything in my power to make that a reality. And whatever happens to me you will never be alone. Too many people love you for that to be the case."
When this did not appear to cheer her up at all, he added with a wry smile. "I would like to remind you that you are in far more daily danger than I am, hunting dark wizards and dark creatures and getting yourself into all kinds of scrapes. Meanwhile I sit at my desk with the threat of paper cuts and dust inhalation."
She did manage a grin through her tears.
"I suppose that's true. Muggle hand sanitiser mishaps aside."
"Hm. A lesson that was hard learnt and won't need repeating."
She let him hug her again, calming by the minute.
"Thank you," she murmured.
"Feeling any better?"
"A bit."
"Could it be that the woman who has always chastised me for bottling up has been doing so herself?"
"Maybe."
"Mum? Dad?"
Hope had appeared through the back door and Tonks drew back from her husband instantly, drying her eyes, morphing the red out of them. She knew from her daughter's panic stricken expression that it was too late and Hope had seen the tears.
"What's happened?"
"Nothing."
"But you said - you said we needed to talk, and you're upset. Has something bad happened? Has someone been hurt? Is it Gran?"
Tonks got to her feet immediately and came forward to hug her, her own worries melting away.
"Hope I promise, no one's hurt and no one's ill. I've had a bad day, that's all. But I do need to talk to you."
"What about?"
"Get yourself a drink and sit down first. Do you want any food?"
Hope shook her head but agreed to get herself some water before taking a seat at the table.
"Now," Tonks said, once the three of them were installed and the normal pleasantries taken care of. "I'm going to ask you a question and I need absolute honesty. Understand?"
Hope nodded in silence, visibly apprehensive.
"Do you have any information about William Bulstrode, Marcus Flint or Marietta Edgecombe? Anything at all."
Her daughter's shoulders seemed to sag at the question.
"I think I've messed up," she mumbled. "Please don't be angry."
"I won't be angry," Tonks assured her. "But I do need to know the truth. It could be very important."
Hope took a gulp of her water before explaining.
"I guess it started when I went round to Scorpius's house before Christmas…"
O
Tonks was in the Ministry by eight o'clock the next morning and made for Harry's office straight away. He had only just arrived himself and was still standing behind his desk as she burst through the door.
"I know you didn't want me here." She held up a hand before he could say a word. "I am fine today. You were right, I wasn't before. I am today. I've got some information from Hope and I think we need to look at it as soon as possible."
Harry was still for two seconds, taking this in, then nodded.
"Good work! Hermione's down on level two, I'll go and get her."
"Harry-"
He turned with his fist on the door handle.
"I'm sorry. About yesterday."
His mouth twitched.
"For… staying and working late? Doing your duties when you felt rubbish? Making enquiries at home when you didn't have to?"
He held her gaze for a few seconds.
"Apology not accepted. I'm glad you're feeling better. But you can apologize to Yenglik. Preferably as soon as possible. I had a chat with her just now and she looked like she'd won the Wizzolotto when I told her you were off until Monday."
Tonks sighed guiltily as he left, and made her way through to the main office. Yenglik did indeed look petrified as she walked in, and Bentley gave her a dark glower from his desk. This was where it would have come in handy to have Remus's impeccable control over emotions, but what was done was done. Now for a bit of grovelling.
O
"Right," Hermione said, over an hour later, when Tonks's working relationships had been suitably patched up and she had recounted to Harry and Hermione what Hope had told her. "That gives us more clarity, at least. Edgecombe has always had doubts about Bulstrode's culpability and Flint's potential involvement. When Hope came to her and mentioned both of them, I guess it gave her confidence that her claims would be taken seriously if she put them forward. What it doesn't explain-"
"Is what the fuck happened in the first place?" Harry muttered.
"I wouldn't have put it so crudely, but yes."
Tonks felt her old surge of adrenalin rushing through her. It had been noticeably absent in recent weeks but there was no mistaking it now. Jaw set, she looked from Harry to Hermione and saw her own determination mirrored in their faces.
"So let's find out."
OOO