Tripping into Place-(Tonks)

[black_hat]

Heh, another fic, this time for a prompt that meant choosing a definite side to the war and writing about that side's cause. Mostly, I never really enter those fics because I don't really like choosing one-side in fiction. I like the in-between just as much. But this went over well, so I'm posting it here on my lj.

Title: Tripping into Place
Rating: PG-13 (for language) 
Word count:  2,789
Characters: Nymphadora Tonks, Remus Lupin, Rufus Scrimgeour, and Albus Dumbledore

“Let’s see. Nymphadora Tonks.”

“Just Tonks, sir.”

The office was boring for a legendary Auror of Rufus Scrimgeour’s rank. There wasn’t any hint of a family or hobby. There was just the legend himself sitting in front of her, judging her final marks in her Auror training.

She kept her legs crossed tightly together, since Scrimgeour was known for sneaking a peek under the skirt when an opportunity presented itself.

“Right. It seems you managed to get by.”

She smiled, and looked at her fingernails.

“Now it’s time to take the real test.” He looked at her over his glasses.

“Excuse me?” she asked, giving him her full attention.

“So you appear determined and sane on parchment. That’s good. Not great and not nearly enough. A lot of people can manage to blend in. Especially a shape-shifter.”

“The politically correct term is--."

“Fuck politically correct.”

Tonks stared at him as if he was about to lunge at her over his desk. Here was one of the most respected Aurors of the age, cussing her out in his nicely trimmed dress robes and alarmingly straight glasses.

“So why do you want to be an Auror? The reasons won’t leave this room. Partly because I will most likely be too embarrassed to repeat them.”

“To help people."

“Isn’t that special?”

“Yes, I think it is.”

“I have this chart that tells me differently.” He opened her file. “Do you have any motherly instincts?”

“How does this question relate to anything? Is this because I’m a woman in the field?”

“All right then, parental instincts…”

She bit her lip. “Sure. I’d to have a family someday. It’d be smashing.”

“Your aunt felt the same way. Says here she was caught abducting the Longbottoms’ baby from their house. Wanted to give him a proper upbringing. I suppose she thought she’d be a great mother.”

His finger marked the spot on the her personal file.

“You arsehole.”

He looked up with a bland expression on his face.

“These are the facts.”

“Unrelated to me.”

“Do you believe you are emotionally stable?”

“I’m keeping myself from cursing your bollocks off, aren’t I?”

Another glance.

“I’m very emotionally stable.”

“Then try again. Why do you want to be an Auror? Don’t hand me a recycled old line. I’m not here to give you a treat if you get it right.”

“For the reasons you listed. I want to make up for past wrongs.”

“Then pack your things.”

She waited.

“To go home.” He took off his glasses and rubbed his forehead.

“All right. But not until you give me a reason besides a biased point of view.”

“You’re a dependent. You’ve only given me external reasons for being here. That won’t cut it. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not sorry,” she said, mulishly. “My mother will-."

“What’s that now? Afraid to go home and tell mummy that you failed? Will she come up here and try to bribe me?”

“This is disgusting. I’ll take this to the Minister of Magic, just see if I don’t.”

“The Minister of Magic doesn’t care. He sits in his office and hopes every day that it all just goes away.”

“I’m not leaving. I spent seven years here for me.”

“Then why can’t you think of a reason, Ms. Tonks?”

“Anyone can think up a reason to do something. You-Know-Who thought up tons of reasons to kill people. I don’t want a reason.”

“You’re right. People can think up any reason in the world to justify any action. Someday, there may even be a war over preferred eye-color. I hope I’m not there for that one. And congratulations.”

She blinked.

“You passed the first test."

“Are you…on something?” she asked, her heart pounding so loudly that she suspected he could hear it.

He laughed.

“I wish, Ms. Tonks. But this was only the first test. There is one more to go before I can register you as an official of the Ministry.”

“And that is?”

“A practical run with me as your supervisor. 5 o’ clock sharp?”

Tonks remembered to let go of the chair. “Right. Sharp.”

She hurried out, tripping on the upturned end of the carpet. It was a relief to fall out of that office.

***

Tonks stood in the entry way to the Ministry of Magic, wrapping her cloak tightly around her. She kept her wand in her hand and did not trust any shadows near her.

Because Rufus Scrimgeour was barmy. One too many Doxy bites to the brain or whatnot. Not that she was afraid. She pulled her cloak up closer and peered around.

Not only was he a nutter, he was a late nutter.

“I can’t believe this,” she muttered.

“Neither can I.”

She jumped and turned around quickly, stumbling a bit as she did. “I’ve been standing here for the last fifteen minutes.”

He marked off a check on some parchment.

“Hey, you didn’t say the test had started. That’s a cheat.”

“Of course it is. Now, are you ready to give up your life, if need be?”

“Depends on what I risk it for.”

He smirked and approached her. “I thought you didn’t need a reason.”

“I’ll deal with a short summary. A few sentences, tops.”

“There’s been an outbreak, caused by some low-ranking former Death Eaters. We have to contain it.”

Tonks took the information in, and nodded. “So why doesn’t the Ministry send the standard Obliviator team, then?”

“It requires your particular talent. Also we can’t avoid the Prophet to cover this incident, and get the activists all in a stir.”

He held out what Tonks assumed to be a portkey, a watch, but she hesitated, letting her hand waver over the time piece.

“Activists?” she muttered, letting amused curiosity slip into her voice. Activists were really not active at all, at least not during the war where Muggle rights had grown to be a pressing issue. All talk but no assistance when it really mattered.

He shrugged. She let her hand fall on the time piece, ready for anything. The familiar sensation of that pull behind her navel and she was falling, with wind rushing past her ears.

Tonks managed to stay upright when they arrived in what appeared to be a clearing. She could see a steeple through the trees, definitely of Muggle design. Her father had taken her to visit his family before, and she had to admit she was looking forward to something familiar.

Scrimgeour had started along a small path near the clearing, and she hurried to follow him, eluding the essence of ‘being professional’.

“What’s dark magic, in your opinion?” he mused.

“It’s about using magic for the self, fundamentally,” she answered eagerly.

“So, in your opinion, the Knight Bus is an infernal creation, forged from the darkest of magic.”

“You know what I meant. It’s also the elimination of feeling, the growing detachment towards other’s pain.”

“A common misconception. Now I know you don’t practice the Dark Arts routinely.”

“And since you know how it feels…” she trailed off.

Her mother had claimed that her daughter was clumsy for two reasons. One, her mind worked faster than her limbs. Two, she just tried too hard. Well, sometimes, when she was in a fight, had some purpose (not reason, mind, a purpose) her body and mind worked together and she just wasn’t trying that hard to get somewhere. She was there, and she was there now.

He chuckled. “Yes. That’s how I know I’m fit to be an Auror.”

“…That’s a bunch of rubbish. You’re just trying to trick me again, sir.”

“I didn’t get lost in that moment. Dark Arts is all about the feelings, feelings of power and control and pain and pleasure. Focus. Pure focus of magical energy on a desire…you have to mean it. I got close but I know where the line is now. Do you hate your aunt?”

She stiffened. “I never met the woman. How can I hate a name?”

“But you do. You hate that you never met her. That she never wanted to meet you.”

Tonks gripped her wand tightly.

“Am I making you angry? What would you do to silence me?”

“Nothing, sir. I will do nothing.”

“That’s the wrong answer. Just in case you were wondering. Today, it’s all about doing something.

The path had ended. They were in a ghost town.

It still had those who had lived within its boundaries. She closed her eyes but the images were still there on the back on her eyelids.

“They went all out this time, huh?” someone called out. She heard footsteps jog towards them.

“Indeed. Werewolves?”

“We think. Either that, or a herd of Hippogriffs.”

He laughed. Tonks knew she shouldn’t judge. He had seen worse.

“Werewolves don’t usually attack in packs,” she muttered.

“Right you are. Name’s Barnes.” He held out his hand and she took it, trying to find something to do. “This is a very special case. The low-rankers must be getting restless. This only took one werewolf, several children, a few memory charms, and a full moon. Undetectable till the aftermath.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, some former Death Eater remembered their old connection to the werewolves. One infected the children of this town. Muggles wouldn’t have been able recognize the symptoms.”

“Oh.”

“We missed a few children on initial strike. The adults were all accounted for.”

“Is this a political statement? About werewolves or-.”

“There’s no deeper meaning to this attack. It’s a fool’s errand to try and find one. What do we do now, sir?”

Scrimgeour looked at her.

“...We have to find the children. A powerful Summoning charm might be a good idea.”

“We can’t do anything illegal here, girlie,” Barnes answered. “The law says we can only use a certain amount of magic in a Muggle-inhabited area.”

“I know that,” Tonks retorted. “But this situation calls for extreme measures.”

“It does,” Scrimgeour answered. “You’re excused, Barnes.”

“Ah. I’ll be over there, then. Be hard to hear, over this ruckus.”

He winked at her before obeying Scrimgeour’s order.

“The law prohibits excessive use of magic, and we stand for the law. The observed law. Do you understand?”

She shook her head.

“We’ll have to handle this situation directly. Barnes has already gathered photos from the houses of these families. This is what you are to do. Shift into the forms of these mothers. The children will come to you, and won't struggle. It lessens the chance of an infection and the possibility of missing one of them.”

“All right. Then we transfer the children to St. Mungo’s?”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. Muggles can’t be cared for in magical facilities. You are to take care of them now.”

She kept a smile on her face, knowing that she was misunderstanding.

“You are to kill them. I suggest a swift curse for the job.”

“…There’s only one curse that fits your description."

“Smart. No one would hear you in the woods, you know. But you’re dedicated. Here.”

He slipped something into her hands, and it was metallic. She didn’t have to look to know what it was.

“…This is part of the test. I’m to say no. Right?”

“I realize what you are going through. A lot of things are running through your mind, and you feel them. You see, Dark wizards believe that everyone feels that same way as they do, and they exploit that. Imagine the pleasure those monsters felt when these children murdered their own families in cold blood. They felt enough to want to kill these children, and on the other hand, we’re supposed to feel enough to spare them, let them be a liability in their suffering. We are better than that. We are Aurors.”

“This is…the most absolutely fucked-up thing…”

“I know you got the idealistic speech at the beginning of your training. Here’s the truth. In the dark, everything’s hidden, good and bad. I think the only way for people to do something this horrible means hiding things, justifying them. In the light, nothing is hidden. This is a terrible thing I’m asking you to do.”

And he’s going to cover this up.

“I can’t.” She pushed the knife handle back into his palm.

“Then you don’t have what it takes to win a war.”

“I guess I don’t.” But she couldn’t leave yet, with the children still in danger. What could she do?

“Sir.” Barnes was back at their side. “I don’t know who leaked the information, but…he’s here.”

It was a very weird moment to see Professor Dumbledore approaching them when she had never felt more disconnected from her past.

“Professor,” she offered when Scrimgeour was silent. She felt the childish need to fill the void. He noticed her then.

“Tonks,” he replied. “I am always pleased to see old students but I would have preferred better circumstances.”

“That shouldn’t be an issue, as you shouldn’t be here right now. Civilian law,” Scrimgeour pointed out, his body tense and watchful.

“My presence was requested by the Minister. It seems that this attack was to be kept a secret. Thus, everyone knows.”

“How?!” Scrimgeour barked.

“Through rumors circulated by the Death Eaters themselves. They do these things to be remembered, not forgotten.”

“I understand that. More than most would care to know.”

“Then why let them manipulate you? If these children are killed, then it will be all the more a testament to their continued power over the Ministry’s actions.” Scrimgeour gave a start, and Tonks flushed in shame.

“If it bothered our Minister, he should have come here in person. But he's your puppet. Puppets aren’t much good for an actual confrontation, are they, Albus?”

“If you wish to believe such things, I won’t change your mind. He expressed interest in my assistance since I know of another way to help the children. It will be a most difficult process but worth the effort.”

A man with solemn eyes and a bit of grey in his hair shifted into her sight. He had been standing behind Dumbledore, and wore a smile that was not sincere.

“This gentleman is Remus Lupin, and he’s expressed an interest in helping these children.”

Lupin nodded, hastening to explain his presence, as if it needed a reason or excuse. Which to be fair, it did, in such circumstances, but Tonks felt there was something more there. “I know of a group of people who have the means to help these children deal with the transformation, and they will not care if they are of Muggle birth. They won’t speak to the papers or the wireless. Moreover, they can’t. It is our hope that the children will be able to go back to their lives, if they have remaining relatives. Of course, it will take time.”

“I see. People who have something to hide want to help with hiding my mistake. Seems to me you want some leverage over us, and you have nothing to lose, right?”

Scrimgeour’s eyes darted between Dumbledore and Remus, and he grinned. “The papers would love a scandal, no matter what the source. What if you were the one who spread the disease to this town in the first place, and are pulling Dumbledore’s sentimental strings to claim these children for yourself?”

Remus blanched.

“That’s not what he said, sir,” Tonks exclaimed. “Aren’t we running out of time? It’s almost nightfall. Do you want to help me find them?” she asked, directing the question towards Lupin, who looked surprised.

“Yes,” he replied with gratitude, but stood there, frozen.

“Come on, then,” she said and grabbed the end of his sleeve, pulling him into motion. She kind of knew she had just lost her job. But this felt right, and it gave her more hope than looking at the dead end with Scrimgeour.

Together, they found the children.

***

“Damn,” Tonks muttered, looking in her cubicle. It was an ungodly mess, and she had been going for an impressive exit. “I should have been a little neater, eh?”

“Don’t bother.”

She stiffened. Scrimgeour glowered at her. What, did he mean to keep her things here? That’s a little odd.

“If you want my quills, you’re welcomed to them.”

“You’ve been accepted. Must be nice having a patron. Enjoy the debt.”

He stalked away. It occurred to her that Dumbledore did have contact with the Minister. Had she inadvertently tripped into the position of Auror? She would have smiled except it seemed more like a pattern fitting into place than being merely clumsy.

Because of the mess, she didn’t notice the letter with the phoenix seal on it. She took her time opening it, because she already knew. And it was a relief.