Dumbledore was dead. The thought of it still sent a shiver creeping down her spine and made her stomach feel cold. A part of her had died along with him; then again, some would argue that she had already been halfway dead, anyway. And it was true; that is, if death is simply considered an absence of life, of spirit, of the will and the determination to live.

She had lost these things a while ago, so if that’s what death was, she was a walking corpse. It really didn’t matter anyway, for she had lost three of the most important people in her life in the past year. First Sirius, then Remus, and now Dumbledore, too. Her life was a right bloody mess.

She didn’t lose Remus the way she lost her cousin and her mentor. He was still here with her, a living, breathing person, but she had lost him, anyway. He had not been stolen by death but by his own bloody self-righteous martyrdom.

She couldn’t help but think that, maybe, he just didn’t care about her the way she cared about him, and he didn’t want to admit it and hurt her feelings. Although, it would have been better if he just came out with it already; it would at least oust the hope that still burned in her heart. Hope, she thought to herself, could kill a person. Hope that came to nothing was, in some ways, worse than no hope at all.

Or maybe it wasn’t the hope that was destroying her. Maybe it was the thought that he, too, was hurting over this as much as she was. Because no matter how much he hurt her, no matter how much she desperately wanted to hate him, she just couldn’t bring herself to do so. She loved him, and it broke her heart to think that he was in as much pain as she was. That’s why she convinced herself he didn’t love her. And after yesterday’s events, she was starting to think that perhaps she was right in that assumption, though a part of her desperately wanted to be wrong.

As these dark thoughts ran through her head, she strode back and forth across her old room at Grimmauld Place like a zombie, picking up her things and throwing them haphazardly into her trunk. The cold dreariness of the house didn’t help her sour mood.

It had been only one day since Dumbledore’s death, but it felt like this pain had been with her for so much longer than that. And looking around at this place, she was reminded of Sirius, and the pain that had come with his loss was renewed as well. She felt like crying, but she didn’t want Remus to see tears on her face when they met in the entrance hall afterward; the last thing she needed was his pity.

Now that Dumbledore was… gone, the best option seemed to be packing up everything important that they were storing in Grimmauld Place before the funeral, since the Fidelius Charm was not as strong now as it once was. Everyone else had already finished packing, and now it was just Remus and herself who remained.

They were the two with the most memories here, so it was natural for them to take longer than the rest of the Order members. And even as she threw her last sock pell-mell into the trunk and sat on the lid in order to close it properly, a part of her wanted to dump its contents back on the floor again, just so that she could stay here for a little bit longer. But she wasn’t going to do that, of course; she had begun to stop listening to her heart by now. All it ever did was cause her pain.

So, trunk lid closed and possessions packed, Tonks made her way out of the room. Just as she was about to begin her descent down the stairs, she turned around and began to walk down the hallway again, but this time in the opposite direction. She found herself in front of Sirius’ room, and she cursed her blasted heart for bringing her here. But she opened the door anyway.

Seeing all of his things sitting there just as he’d left them brought tears to her eyes. It seemed like she had taken to crying constantly these days; it seemed so easy to let the tears fall, even though she tried her hardest to hold them back whenever the others were around. But this time she was alone, so she allowed herself the small comfort of falling onto the red and gold sheets of her late cousin’s bed and crying her eyes out.

What a sad sight she must have been, lying there sobbing into the bedclothes of a dead man, mourning a loss that she still felt the painful repercussions of a year later. Even to herself it sounded pitiful, but at the moment she didn’t care. When she finally regained control of herself, she sat up in order to look around more closely. The walls were covered in posters of skinny, beautiful Muggle girls in bikinis, and of motorbikes and broomsticks and a million other things. You could barely even see the color of the wallpaper anymore with everything plastered on top of it.

Mixed in amongst these were Gryffindor banners and old photographs from his school days. It was as though this room was a portal into Sirius’ past, a small space that was lost in time. It was a material representation of her cousin’s teenage years, complete with everything he held dear to him. And as she continued to survey the walls, her eyes fell upon a photo of a baby with hair that was constantly changing color, and the tears once again threatened to fall. She could still imagine a fifteen-year-old Sirius tacking a picture of her to his wall.

As her eyes wandered to the bedside table, she spotted a more recent addition to the room. On it sat an everlasting gobstopper wrapped in Muggle cellophane. It was one of Fred and George’s favorite inventions; they got the idea from a Muggle children’s book by Roald Dahl called Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Even though they loved it, the supplies used to make it were rare so the confection sitting on the bedside table was one of around fifty.

For some reason she was drawn to this little invention, so she picked up the colorful candy and pocketed it. She probably liked it so much because she remembered Sirius’ amazement at receiving it. He had been fascinated by it, and she remembered the wide grin that had passed over his face when it had been given to him. And she preferred to remember him happy and smiling.

Suddenly she realized that Remus was probably already done packing and waiting for her in the entrance hall, so she stood and returned to the creaky old stairs, this time not stopping or even so much as turning her head before making her way down. Sure enough, Remus was in the entrance hall, but he was not waiting impatiently; not that she’d expected him to be. He was never impatient and he didn’t get angry over stupid things. This attribute only irritated her more because she would always feel guilty for being angry with him; he was such a mellow man.

Rather than standing in front of the door and tapping his worn loafer against the wood floor as she half wanted him to do, just so that she would have the chance to snap at him for his impatience, he was looking at something sitting in a glass case on the wall opposite the door. It was quite spotless compared to the filthy wall that surrounded it, covered in blotches of dirt and old stains. Obviously he heard her footsteps as she came down the stairs, for he spoke to her as soon as she reached the floor. He didn’t turn to face her, but rather just talked to the wall.

“You know, with the picture of Sirius’ mother in here, I never really got a chance to look around,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper in order to refrain from awakening said picture. “But this is rather fascinating.” Tonks stepped up beside him so that she, too, could see whatever it was that had caught his attention.

When she peered into the case, she saw a wood-framed hourglass filled with fine white sand standing atop a wooden pedestal attached to which was a gold plaque engraved with the words Time is the one power no man can control. Her curiosity got the better of her; Tonks reached forward and pulled the glass door to the case open. Remus’ hand darted out to yank hers back abruptly, and after making sure that she was unharmed, he rounded on her and stared at her with fire in his eyes. “Are you insane?!” he cried. His voice sounded funny when he tried to sound upset and still whisper at the same time. “That stupid thing could have been cursed!” So much for not getting angry over stupid things.

“Well, it obviously wasn’t,” she replied matter-of-factly before darting out her other hand to snatch the hour glass. She did this just in order to irritate him; let him be just as unhappy as she was. She knew that she was just being vindictive and she didn’t really mean it, but she thought that, perhaps, putting herself in danger might force him to confess his love in order to stop her from doing it again. He pulled her roughly away from the case and slammed the door shut.

It didn’t look like he was about to profess his love for her; in fact, he seemed livid. “What the hell did you think you were doing? You’re going to get yourself killed.” When she just shrugged, something flashed in his eyes that wasn’t quite anger. She couldn’t very well recognize the emotion, but she didn’t care because now she was mad, stamping her foot defiantly.

“Nothing happened, Remus. Honestly, there’s no reason to get your knockers in a twist. Besides, I didn’t really think you’d care, anyway.” She stuck her chin out in the air.

“You’re being obstinate,” he growled, before replying to her accusations. “Obviously, you were wrong about my not caring,” he snapped back, gritting his teeth. “Let’s just get out of here.”

She allowed him to grab her wrist and pull her out the door and away from the house without fighting or wriggling and trying to get free. She didn’t even drag her feet along the filthy green carpet that covered the floor. It was so stained and encrusted with dirt and dust that her feet didn’t even sink into it. She exited the dark, gloomy house out into the bright sun, but her heart seemed to latch onto a bit of the dreary atmosphere within the house. She was long past trying to fight. It was pointless, she had found, so she just submitted and allowed herself to be led away, her fighting spirit lost. She really was dead, wasn’t she? And the one man who could bring her back to life didn’t care to do so.

No, he didn’t love her. And finally that last little flicker of hope died, but it didn’t give her the comfort she had been hoping for. Rather, she just felt even more empty and alone than before. She still clutched the hourglass in her other hand, clinging to it because she had nothing else in the world left to hold onto.


Remus didn’t let go of her wrist until they had climbed the steep stairs up onto the Knight Bus, and even then he kept his eyes on her as though he thought she might launch herself out one of the windows at any second. She crossed her arms and legs, refusing to return his stare and sticking her chin out defiantly. She did this more out of habit than any real emotion.

Usually, she would have been indignant that he thought she’d be so stupid, but now she no longer had the energy to feel anything at all. Now she was just going through the motions, acting but not really meaning it. All she could do was clutch the hourglass tightly in her hand. It seemed to be radiating powerful magical energy, and normally that would have fascinated her, but right now all it did was provide the smallest stitch of comfort for her lonely, broken heart.

They didn’t talk at all on the ride to Hogwarts castle and they remained silent as they made their way up to the large wrought iron gates. Remus opened them wordlessly and gestured for Tonks to enter the grounds first before following along behind. As they walked up the rocky dirt pathway toward the castle, Remus leveled out with her, his longer strides bringing him up to walk beside her. His torn and patched old robes billowed out behind him as he walked, and his sandy hair was tousled in the wind. She considered speeding up, in order to lose him in the dust she left in the wake of her footsteps, but decided that would be childish.

So she grudgingly allowed him to stride along beside her. Through the entrance hall they went, up the stairs and through the hallway, making their way to the hospital wing where Bill Weasley still lay in a bed, having been mauled by a werewolf in human form. Tonks knew this disconcerted Remus greatly; the attacker had been the same creature that bit Remus and turned him into a werewolf.

Why couldn’t Remus understand that he was so very different from monsters like Fenrir Greyback? He may have been a werewolf, but he wasn’t anything like that; Remus was so much kinder, with so much love in his heart. Love, of course, that didn’t seem to extend to Tonks.

As she considered these things, she didn’t notice the lip in the rug until it was too late. She was already headed on a fast descent, and the hourglass went flying from her hand and careening through the air, spinning end over end towards the ground where it would surely break. As she was falling toward the ground, she reached out with both hands and stretched as far as she possibly could. It was as if it all was happening in slow motion. Her hand closed around the hourglass just as she felt strong arms wrapping around her, catching her before she hit the floor.

And then the world was spinning and everything began to blur. It was as if time were flowing backward, moving so fast that nothing around them could be made out clearly. Tonks felt dizzy and she couldn’t move an inch; it was as though everything spinning around them was closing them in, suffocating them and holding them there before dropping them off at their destination so suddenly and abruptly that Remus stumbled and almost dropped her.

Remus pulled her back up into a standing position, making sure she was upright and steady with her feet firmly on the ground before letting go of her. As the two of them turned around slowly, surveying their surroundings, they wondered what had just happened to them. Tonks noticed a big red, blue, green and yellow tapestry on the wall that hadn’t been there before. The Hogwarts coat of arms was embroidered across it, and she was certain it hadn’t been there moments ago. In fact, it seemed to be in the exact place where the painting of Friedreck the Fabulous usually hung. Something really strange was going on, Tonks thought in bewilderment.

“Well, Dorothy,” Remus breathed, “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.”

“What?” asked Tonks, confused by the strange reference that she didn’t understand; she thought that maybe the spinning room had made him delirious.

“Oh, nothing,” replied Remus, shrugging. “It’s just a reference to a Muggle book I once read.” Tonks nodded in understanding. Then she remembered the strange changes she had seen.

“Something’s not right here,” Tonks muttered, instinctively steeping closer to the man she loved, the man who had broken her heart, and the man who, at the moment, provided the only protection that could be found in the deserted corridor. She wondered why her heart still sped up as he, too, took a step toward her; she wondered how a heart as broken as hers could still manage to love anyone, let alone the reason for her agony. But wondering about it and wishing it wouldn’t happen didn’t make any of it go away.

“I feel it too. Something’s… off,” Remus muttered in return. And then they heard the voices.

The footsteps seemed to be heading toward the hallway where they stood. The voices were getting louder by the second, and Remus did the only thing he could think of, the thing he’d always been taught to do. Duck and cover. He leapt behind a nearby statue, yanking Tonks along with him. When he was sure that they were completely obscured by both the stone figure and the surrounding shadows, he was able to breathe easier and listen more closely.

“Honestly, the students will be here in a day's time, Horace,” said a tight, strict voice in exasperation. It was a voice that both Tonks and Remus recognized. Remus sighed in relief. It was only Slughorn and Minerva. He was about to leave the safety of the statue’s cover, already feeling sheepish at having to come of hiding for no apparent reason right in front of two of his friends, but the thought that Tonks was behind there with him made him stay put. What if they assumed that something had been going on between him and the metamorphmagus?

And then her words registered in his mind. A day's time? Children arriving at the school? Hadn’t term already begun by now? Actually, it had started a long time ago; the students would soon be leaving the castle, immediately after Dumbledore’s funeral. What was the Transfiguration Professor on about?

“Yes, I know, but lesson plans take time to come up with, and time is just one thing I never seem to have,” said the Potions Master in response to his colleague’s earlier statement. “Two years ago, I forgot about the plans altogether, so you ought to be happy that isn’t the case this time.”

“Yes, I remember it perfectly. And that was three years ago, by the way, Horace. Remember, it was back in 1973.” McGonagall was obviously astounded that her colleague could mix up something that had happened just in the past five years, but her annoyance didn’t bother Remus; he was struck dumb by the fact that Minerva had just informed Slughorn that 1966 had happened three years ago. It seemed that both professors had gone batty in their old age; yet Remus couldn’t imagine how Minerva, with her sharp wits, had managed to obtain memory loss.

“Oh, how could I forget? I swear, by the time I turn seventy, I’ll have no memory left at all,” the big man laughed. Just as he said this, the two walked past the statue and into Remus’ view, and he saw Minerva smile and shake her head at Horace. But Remus just sat there, dumbfounded. There was no grey in Minerva’s hair, and Slughorn had lost many of the age lines on his face seemingly overnight. What had happened? But, wait… Slughorn was well past seventy by now.

And then it hit him. The hourglass, the strange tapestry, the date, the age difference in the professors… it was all painfully clear now. Remus’ stomach turned and he felt dread settle itself in the cavern of his chest. This was not good. Not good at all. As they continued to pass and reached a position where, if they peered over their shoulders they would be able to see him, Remus pressed forward against the cold stone of the statue. And he really wished he wasn’t right, but everything in him screamed that he was. It seemed that they had been launched back in time to the year 1976. What a right bloody mess.

As the two professors rounded the corner and the footsteps faded, a veil of silence fell over the corridor as Tonks and Remus turned to look at each other with wide eyes, both of them momentarily too stunned to speak. All at once, the two of them blurted out simultaneously, “Did you hear that?”

Then Remus fell silent and allowed Tonks to continue, knowing that she was confused whereas, by now, he himself was simply incredulous. “What were they on about? What’s going on here?” When he didn’t answer, only stared at her seeming torn as to whether or not he should tell her what he was thinking, she began to get irritated. A new feeling began to fill her, forming knots in the pit of her stomach. “Remus, answer me. What the bloody hell is going on here?!”

“Well,” began Remus, trying desperately to keep his voice steady, but failing to hide the dread on his face. Tonks recognized it as the same dread whose icy fingers now grabbed hold of her heart. “It would appear that we,” he gestured between the two of them, “have somehow travelled back in time. And I would be willing to bet that it has something to do with that hourglass,” he said, pointing accusingly at the object Tonks held in her hand.

When he had first mentioned his idea that they had travelled into the past, Tonks’ face had gone white and she had stared at him incredulously, her jaw dropping in shock. Then again, it seemed to make sense; far too much sense for her liking. But as he continued to speak, her astonishment was quickly replaced by anger at his accusations.

“I told you not to touch it. I hadn’t even realized you’d taken it with you. I knew it would only lead to trouble. I don’t know why you picked it up; it was in the Black Family estate! Don’t you know by now that everything in that place is dangerous? I can’t believe you could’ve been so reckless!” He wasn’t yelling exactly; just scolding forcefully.

But Tonks hated being reprimanded; she was getting so angry that he might as well have been screaming. Every word he said added fuel to the fire she felt building inside her, and she felt like exploding, but she forced calm into her voice when she finally spoke up. “Alright, fine, you can blame it all on me; go ahead. But handing out blame won’t get us back to the right time. The less time you spend pointing fingers and getting your knickers in a twist, the sooner we can straighten all this out.” Remus glowered, but he had to concede; she definitely did have a point.

“Okay, okay,” he relented, holding up his hands in a peaceful gesture in order to placate her. “I’ll save my accusations for later. But in the meantime we should start brainstorming ideas on how we’re supposed to return to the present.”

They were both silent for a moment, but then Tonks’ voice cut across the quiet. “You haven’t got a clue what to do, do you?” she asked, raising her eyebrows and smiling slightly.

Remus looked sheepish. “Nope. No the faintest idea.”

And then Tonks burst out laughing. “Well, isn’t this just wonderful,” she guffawed, holding her sides as she burst into hysterics. “We’re stuck here in the middle of who-knows-when with no way to get back except for a time machine that we can’t even trust.” And her laughs suddenly became sobs as the tears cascaded down her face, and Remus stared in bewilderment, at a loss for what to do.

“It’s… it’s okay, Tonks, we’ll find a way back, I’m sure… we’ll get back to our time and everything will be all right again. Please, don’t cry…” he trailed off, looking lost. He reached out a hand and was about to lay it on her shoulder, but at the last second he seemed to think better of it, pulling away abruptly. Disappointment crushed her; he had been about to touch her! Why did he have to pull back like that? She just wanted him to hold her, to cradle her in his strong arms comfortingly, stoking her hair and telling her that everything would be alright, and yet he refused to so much as touch her. The crying intensified.

“Why is my life falling apart? I swear, the whole bloody world hates me! First Dumbledore dies, and now this…” and then an unexpected idea struck her.

Suddenly the crying ceased and her head shot up, a determined fire igniting in her eyes. “That’s it!” she cried, the trails left by her tears still clinging to her face. And then she uttered one word, the name of the one person she could count on to help them solve their problems. “Dumbledore!” she cried, smiling triumphantly at her revelation.

“Of course!” cried Remus, slapping a hand to his forehead. “Why didn’t I think of that? Obviously he’s still here in this time period. But…” he trailed off, his face falling ominously, and a dark cloud seemed to fall over the two of them, extinguishing the excitement of the moment as the bubble of anticipation Tonks felt rising in her heart seemed to pop.

“What?” asked Tonks in trepidation, the feeling of dread settling in her stomach once again. Why did her ideas always fall to ruin? She was now convinced that the world had turned against her. There was no other explanation for the fact that her life always took a turn towards disaster.

Remus voiced his concern regarding the plan. “How are we going to get to his office without attracting attention?” he asked. It was a fair question, and Tonks had no idea as to what the answer was. It seemed as though that arrangement had gone down the drain all too quickly…

She looked down at her feet despondently, put-out for a moment and hanging her head, before she looked up again and suddenly a slow smile began to stretch across her lips, her eyes lighting up. Perhaps this plan would work after all. “I think I have an idea…”



Tonks looked up at him morosely and whispered softly, her voice barely audible, “I can’t do it.”

“What do you mean, Tonks?” asked Remus concernedly. “Of course you can. You can do anything you put your mind to; I’m confident in your abilities. Really,” he added firmly when she stared at him dubiously. “You can do it.” He reached out a hand and touched her shoulder, squeezing it gently and smiling at her. “I know you can.”

Something fluttered in her heart at the soft confidence in his voice and the way his warm fingers felt as they pressed against her shoulder. His smile made her stomach flip-flop and she suddenly felt a strength growing inside of her that had been absent for such a long time. She squared her shoulders resolutely and then walked over to the statue, ducking behind it. She heard Remus chuckle from the other side of the stone figure. “Tonks, what are you doing?” he questioned with laughter in his voice.

Tonks rolled her eyes, although she knew he couldn’t see her. “When I change,” she began matter-of-factly, “my clothes won’t fit me anymore. I don’t want to be standing in the middle of a school hallway in robes that are falling off of me.” She poked her head out over the statue and glared at him threateningly. “Now don’t you dare look, Remus Lupin.”

He laughed again. “I won’t look. I promise,” he smiled.

After a few seconds of waiting in patient silence, Remus heard his companion’s slightly muted voice drifting out to him from behind the statue. “Er… Remus?” she asked uncertainly.

“Yes?” he replied, wondering why she hadn’t come out yet.

“Would you happen to know any tailoring spells?” she asked meekly, obviously embarrassed at having to ask such a question. Remus just laughed.

“As a matter of fact,” he began, “I do. I happen to be in need of them quite often.” He obviously intended for this to be a joke, but Tonks wasn’t very amused. She hated it when he tried to make light of his monetary situation. Especially since it was one of the excuses he used when giving her reasons why they couldn’t be together.

But she quickly got over her displeasure at his bad attempt at a joke. “Well, would you mind having to do a couple more?” she asked tentatively.

“No; I wouldn’t mind at all. I’ll be happy to help, especially if it’s for a good cause. Such as our return to our own time.” When she remained crouched behind the statue, he called out, “Come on out, now; I can’t do it when you’re hiding behind Beavis the Boring.” Tonks snorted; she found the statue’s name rather amusing.

Remus kept his eyes on the statue, and a figure slowly stood up, the top of its head poking up over the top of the Beavis, who had been a short man. The person who emerged was a lot shorter than the one who had originally entered into the shadows behind the statue, but that wasn’t the only difference, and neither was it the most noticeable; nor the most astonishing. The figure that came out into the light where he could see her seemed to be a completely different person.

The hair had changed from a mousy brown color to a much longer, sleeker black mop with gentle waves and the skin tone was decidedly darker than before. The height change was astounding, and the curves had been enhanced. Last but not least, the woman had seemingly transformed into a girl; she appeared to be much younger. In fact, she looked like she was only around sixteen or seventeen years old. Her robes were practically falling off of her. It was quite a comical sight, really, but Remus held back his laughter and pulled out his wand, closing his eyes and concentrating on how he wanted the clothes to look before muttering a spell under his breath.

When he opened his eyes, the clothes were once again a practical size. He looked at her more closely, and what he saw made him gasp. The person standing before him was so familiar; a fissure of pain ran through him like a cold sliver of ice in his veins. He never would forget that face; it had been haunting him since he was sixteen years old. And suddenly he knew that it would be a long time before he and Tonks finally returned to the time in which they belonged. The answers to all of the questions that had been tormenting him since he was in his sixth year at Hogwarts abruptly fell into place, and all of a sudden he understood.

He had to use all of the willpower he possessed in order to stop himself from crying out and running toward her, wrapping her in a tight embrace, but he managed to restrain himself. It was one of the hardest things he had ever done. Could it really be…?

“Do you like it?” asked Tonks, breaking into his reverie and shaking him from his thoughts and back to reality. “I’ve even picked out a name for myself so that nobody will recognize me. I’m Jenny Lark,” she announced proudly, spinning around so that he could see all of the aspects of her disguise. “I haven’t been able to morph in so long, no matter how hard I’ve tried, and now, suddenly, it just seemed to work!” she cried, jumping up and down and clapping her hands ecstatically. “It’s wonderful to be in control of my own powers again.” This was quite a drastic and refreshing change from the miserable, bland Tonks he’d been seeing as of late.

Remus cleared his throat, but his next words still came out slightly hoarse. The revelation of her name had just proven his theory correct, and he was both astonished and incredulous. “How,” he began faintly, before starting again in a stronger, smoother voice, “How will you learn to respond to that name? I mean, aren’t you used to your own name?”

“Well… just between you and me, when I was a little kid, I told all of my Muggle friends that my name was Jenny. I hated my real name, so I made one up for myself; a normal one. It wasn’t until Hogwarts that I started using my surname, so I’m used to being called Jenny, too. I trained myself to respond to that name a long time ago, and I’m sure that, since I was so young at the time, my brain will still recognize that the name is referring to me.”

“Oh, that’s… good.” Remus really didn’t know how else to respond to this story; he was still disoriented as he recovered from the shock of seeing Tonks’ transformation.

“Yep. Well, I should probably make my way to Dumbledore’s office. The sooner I get there, the sooner we can leave,” she said, smiling and making her way down the hall. And Remus wished that he could tell her to stop, to wait, because he knew that getting her hopes up now wouldn’t do her any good; they would only come crashing back down again when she found out that their return would be a long time coming. He was torn; a part of him wanted her to stop, to come back and avoid the disappointment of having her hopes dashed, but another part wanted her to go so that he didn’t have to explain his reason for calling her back, revealing everything about what had happened to him in his sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.



On her way to the headmaster’s office, Tonks ran into one of the last people she wanted to see. She walked as quietly as possible as she passed Professor McGonagall, trying her hardest to blend in with the wall, but she should have known she never could have escaped the woman’s sharp, observant gaze. McGonagall saw her in her peripheral vision and whipped around to stare at Tonks; the metamorphmagus’ heart seemed to sink to her feet. Blast it all!

McGonagall considered her appraisingly, looking her up and down. “Who, may I ask, are you?” the professor enquired sharply, raising her eyebrows.

“Oh,” Tonks stuttered, momentarily stunned into silence. And then her brain kicked in and she remembered the story that she and Remus had fabricated before her transformation, just in case this kind of a situation arose. It was a good thing they had planned so well. “My name is Jenny Lark. I’m on my way to see the headmaster right now, actually. I’m a new student, and I’m hoping to be able to attend this school for the upcoming term.”

“Ah, an exchange student,” McGonagall said; it was more of a statement than a question. “Hogwarts does not allow exchange students,” she said in a clipped tone.

“Well, I’m not an exchange student, per se,” said Tonks slowly. This part of the plan hadn’t been figured quite so clearly, because she had not been expecting to run into someone so inquisitive. She really should have been more prepared for various situations, but this little trip into the past had been a bit… unexpected. To put it nicely. “You see, I’ve been home schooled , but my parents were recently attacked… by Death Eaters,” she mumbled the last two words and willed herself to look upset, which wasn’t very hard taking into account her recent depression.

Professor McGonagall’s face suddenly softened with compassion as she looked at Tonks. “I’m so sorry to sound so insensitive, Miss… Lark, did you say? I didn’t mean to be brusque. On account of all the Hogwarts staff, I welcome you to our school.”

“Thank you, Professor,” she replied humbly. “There’s no need to apologize.”

McGonagall looked surprised that the girl was so understanding and had forgiven her so easily. She would have thought the Tonks would be angry.

“Sorry, Professor, but… what’s your name?” she asked meekly.

“I’m Professor McGonagall, and I teach Transfiguration. I look forward to seeing you in class, Miss Lark.” And with that, the far younger Professor McGonagall strode off down the hall and out of sight. Sighing in relief at the close call, Tonks continued on her way to the headmaster’s office.

When Tonks reached the gargoyle outside of the staircase leading up to Dumbledore’s office, she realized with a sinking feeling that she didn’t know the password. She swore under her breath before trying a few possibilities. She knew of the headmaster’s affection for Muggle confections, so she began to list off every one she knew. “Chocolate kisses… Mars Bar… Hershey’s Bar… Chips Ahoy… Three Musketeers… Milky Way�”” and with that the gargoyle sprang aside, allowing her access to the rotating spiral staircase. She ascended and reached the door at the top, lifting her fist before gathering up the courage to knock, rapping her knuckles tentatively against the wood. She didn’t bother with the knocker; she always managed to pinch her fingers when she did.

“Enter,” called a familiar voice from the other side of the door. Slowly, she turned the knob and pushed, letting herself into the spacious room and looking around at the furniture, the familiar phoenix, and all of the magical gismos spinning on the professor’s desk. It was exactly the same as she remembered it from her time.

She stepped forward boldly and straightened her shoulders as she looked resolutely over the desk at her mentor. It was so good to see him again, alive and well. She took a deep breath and began to speak. “Hello, Headmaster,” she began purposefully. “My name is Nymphadora Tonks and I am from the future.” Might as well get it out in the open right away and avoid beating around the bush. Just as she had expected, Dumbledore didn’t look remotely surprised.

“Well, hello, Nymphadora. How may I help you?”

“This,” she announced just as bluntly, getting straight to the point, “Is the object that has sent u… me back.” She strode forward and held it out to him, and he took it and began to examine it closely. “It was not ou… my intent to travel back in time; it happened quite by accident, really. I didn’t want to attempt to use it in order to return, just in case something else went wrong. Actually, I’m not even sure this object is capable of returning me to the future.”

As Dumbledore turned the hourglass in his hands, he spoke to her softly without looking up. “I believe you are correct in the assumption that this object is only useful to send people backward in time. It was wise of you not to try to use it in an attempt to get back to your own time.”

“Would you happen to know any means by which w… I would be able to get back?” she asked hesitantly, dreading the answer as soon as she saw the flash of sorrow in his eyes.

“I am afraid that it may take time to return you to wherever you came from, Ms. Tonks,” he replied sadly, watching as her face fell in trepidation. She had been counting on his immediate knowledge of what to do. She didn’t know what she was going to do. “It will not be impossible,” Dumbledore continued, “but it will take time. I would say that, by the look of you, you are around sixteen, so you must have come from fourteen years in the future?” At her stunned look, he explained, “I am aware that your present counterpart is two years old.”

Ah. That explained his uncanny knowledge. “But you are a metamorphmagus,” the old man continued, “So it’s rather difficult to tell you true age.”

“Well, I’m definitely not sixteen anymore,” she laughed. “Actually, I came from the year 1997.”

“And why, may I ask, did you take on the appearance of a teenager?” he questioned curiously, though not at all rudely.

“Well, sir, I didn’t want to attract attention to myself, and this is a school for teenagers,” she explained. “Actually, I came up with a cover story. I told Professor McGonagall that I come here after having been home schooled all my life due to a Death Eater attack on my parents. My cover is Jenny Lark.”

“Ah. Well, Jenny, would you mind terribly if you had to keep up your cover for a little while longer? You see, as I said before, it may take a while to find a way to send you back, and since it seems that my Transfiguration Professor already knows the story, it might arouse suspicion if you simply disappear.”

“Wait,” said Tonks slowly, her stomach feeling like a dead weight. “How long do you propose I would have to stay here before you find a way to send me back?”

“I’m sorry, my dear, but I really don’t know. In the meantime, you are welcome to attend Hogwarts for the upcoming term; actually, I encourage you to do so. It would not lead Minerva to becoming suspicious, and I daresay you might get lonely without any company in a time that is foreign to you. I’m sure one of our professors would be willing to take you shopping for your school supplies in Diagon Alley. You can borrow some money from me; Lord knows I don’t need all of it. I hope to see you during the school year. Until then, however, I would like to examine this hourglass more closely. Would you mind terribly if I held onto it for a little while?”

Tonks snorted but quickly tried to hide it with a cough at the risk of sounding rude. “Not at all, Headmaster. It’s really of no use to me.”

“Thank you,” the old man beamed, and Tonks couldn’t help but smile back. As she was about to close the door behind her, he called after her. “Good luck, Jenny.”