32: Once More Unto The Breach
Gone.
He’s gone.
I’m too late.
Oh Merlin, I’m too late…
Professor McGonagall was speaking again, her hand resting in gentle reassurance against her former student’s shoulder, her features pale and drawn behind the familiar glint of her spectacles, but Tonks found that she no longer knew or cared what words she had to say. The worst had already been spoken.
He’s gone. He’s gone.
She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to beat her fists against the wall and then curl up in a corner and sob herself into unconsciousness. But she was an Auror. She was a member of the Order of the Phoenix. And sobbing and screaming and beating the wall would not bring Remus back again.
Because however bad she felt inside, however much she wanted to kick the walls or blast pointless holes in the ceiling, the floors, or even in Arcadius Croll, Nymphadora Tonks would always do her job.
She caught a few snatches of McGonagall’s words “ “…tried so hard to contact Kingsley Shacklebolt but every floo connection at the Ministry was jammed… sent an owl instead but it can’t have arrived before you left…so very sorry, I did everything I could to stop them…noble act…gave up his wand…wanted to make sure the children didn’t get harmed…” and she nodded politely, flashing wan smiles at moments that seemed to require reassurances. One particular statement caught her ear “ “…unknown situation… Moody is making plans for a rescue… but we can’t act until we hear from Dumbledore… sorry, Miss Tonks… contact you as soon as he calls…” and she forced herself to grit her teeth and smile as she nodded, thanked her former teacher and made her excuses to escape down the hall outside Dumbledore’s office where she and the professor had met. She caught a glimpse of McGonagall’s worried eyes following her progress along the corridor but she did not turn back or change her course.
He didn’t fight. He didn’t try. He even gave his bloody wand up! What was that idiot thinking? Earth to Remus, you damned well knew what the Death Eaters at the Institute are planning! You knew and you still…
You prat. That’s what you are. A stupid, selfless, ridiculously over-noble prat! For once in your life, Remus! For once in your life, why didn’t you think about yourself?
But of course you didn’t. You wouldn’t be you if you did.
You bloody prat.
But cursing about Remus’ martyr complex was not going to make a difference now. He’d been there, in the Institute, for more than three hours already. And if Kingsley and McGonagall were correct, it would be several hours more before even the remotest attempt was made to get him out because the Order wanted the approval of a man who would not be leaving the his session of the Wizengamot until well into the afternoon.
And tonight was the full moon.
And that was the thought that broke her resolve.
A room. That’s what I need. A nice, quiet room. Somewhere I can have a damned good scream about stupid, self-sacrificing prats and the bloody slowness of the Wizengamot…
A tapestry caught her eye as she stalked passed “ the familiar outline of Barnabas the Barmy being clubbed repeatedly by angry trolls. For a moment, she paused, backtracking to stare at the image, wondering if perhaps taking a club and having a nice rampage through the corridors would make her feel better; but in the end she concluded that McGonagall probably wouldn’t appreciate her beheading suits of armour and terrorising paintings and so she turned and began to move on.
Merlin damn it all to Hell! I need to hit something! I need to scream!
And then she saw the door.
Tonks would have sworn on her mother’s life that it hadn’t been there a mere moment before. But there was something oddly tempting about the glint of its handle and the lustre of its wood and before she gave herself time to think about it, the Auror had reached out and pulled it open.
And it was perfect.
It was windowless, the walls, ceiling and floor carefully lined with thick padding and the floor scattered with cushions of just the softness and consistency to make beating them, slapping them and hurling them immensely satisfying without either damage or pain. And as she passed across the threshold, all hint of the distant sounds of Hogwarts vanished in an instant behind a spell that dampened sound. It was, in short, a venting room.
Merlin, I wish I’d known this was here during my OWLs…
A plump red cushion lay temptingly just a few yards in front of her. It looked eminently kickable.
The thud as it struck the wall was good, better than one might expect from a thickly padded wall. But it wasn’t enough.
Not by a long shot.
“Bloody hell, Remus!” A yellow cushion flew in a wide arc.
“What were you thinking?” An emerald cushion was subjected to the battering of two small fists.
“What’s the matter with you?” A foot slapped against the heavily padded wall.
“Why did you just go?” A blue cushion was slammed against the floor.
“Why didn’t you fight them?” Two cushions, purple and pink, were battered in repeated succession against a corner.
“Why did you fight me?” The pink cushion walloped into the back of the door with a bang. The purple cushion bounced off the ceiling.
“Why wouldn’t you kiss me?” Yellow, green, blue, red “ one after another, cushions ricocheted off the wall to form a forlorn looking pile.
“Why wouldn’t you say it? The pile scattered in all directions as hands and feet piled into its mass like a dervish.
“Why wouldn’t you say that you love me?” An unfortunate orange cushion fell within her grasp, victim of a repeated onslaught by palms and fists and fingernails, the stitching ripping and groaning against the strain.
“Why the hell did I have to go and fall for you at all?” Cushion seams screamed in pain and then abruptly ruptured.
“Remus Lupin, you git!”
Feathers. They were everywhere, disgorging from the split orange cushion in a drifting maelstrom of down to cover the floor, the cushions and Tonks herself in a blanket of fluffy whiteness. Breathing deeply, she paused a moment, gazing down at the tatty remains of orange material gripped in her grasp, at the spiralling curls of down now coating her vision like feathered snow and sighed.
Well. That was better.
Gods, I needed that.
Too much emotion, far too soon. It had clouded her mind and her judgement.
But now things were clearer. And now she knew what she had to do.
She had to get him out.
She wasn’t going to wait for the Order. She wasn’t going to wait for Moody’s backup or Dumbledore’s call. She was going in alone and she would bring Remus out, alive and before the full moon, if she had to beat off every Death Eater and werewolf in the Institute to do it. And if they found a moment in which to thwart an evil Death Eater scheme, so much the better.
And so help Remus Lupin when she got her hands on him. Prat!
It was good to have things clear.
And she knew just the way to do it.
Felisha’s portkey.
She had a vague, sleepy recollection of depositing on her bedside table at the Three Broomsticks early that morning. So that was where she needed to go.
But first…
One of the first lessons an Auror learned was that only an idiot went barrelling into a dangerous situation without at least leaving some evidence to show where they had gone. Speaking to someone, be it Order or Auror, was out of the question, if she didn’t want to be restrained and held back until it was far too late to make a difference. But perhaps if she left a note…
Brushing feathers away from her hair and robes, Tonks pulled herself back to her feet and marched determinedly towards the door. She needed something to write with…
Something clinked against her foot. She looked down.
An inkpot rolled gently away from the impact with her shoe. Beside it, on the ground and looking for all the world as though they’d never dreamed of being anywhere else, was a quill and a piece of parchment.
Where did that come from?
Oh, well. No point in look a gift Hippogriff in the mouth…
It took only a few moments to dash off a quick message;
To Professor Dumbledore,
I know you or Kingsley will probably have my guts for this, but I’m going after Remus alone. Yes, I know, reinforcements will be coming soon, but soon may be too late. I still have a working portkey at the Three Broomsticks and I know the territory “ I can get in, get Remus and get out more quickly than anyone else. I’m sorry if you’re angry, but this is something I have to do.
Tonks.
There. She could seal it and leave it in the staff room on her way out. And then at least they couldn’t say she didn’t tell them…
Grasping the note in one hand, Tonks moved quickly back towards the door. With a surge, sound returned as she passed through the silencing barrier and out into the corridor.
And encountered a sound rather closer than she had expected.
“…no idea how to find the Institute but maybe the Room could give us a map or a diagram… Look out!”
Something solid and utterly invisible halted her path with a thump and a triple cry of “Omph!” For a moment, she teetered, grasping at unseen elbows and hidden limbs, material raking between her fingers; she caught a glimpse of three shocked heads, one tall and red, one bespectacled and black and one female and bushy brown appearing in mid-air, but then her lack of balance triumphed and sent her hurtling towards the wall. She staggered, grasping desperately at a nearby suit of armour but it took no great fondness from the impact; she saw the iron fist of the suit of armour swinging towards her a moment before it slammed against her head and sent the world swirling into darkness.
Bugger.
* * *
The blackness faded. Tonks blinked slowly into consciousness.
And found herself facing an irritatingly familiar sight.
Poppy Pomfrey leaned over her, a bottle of potion gripped with one hand and a drawn wand waving slowly in the other. There were times in her life when Tonks had wondered if she was destined to be drawn eternally back by some mystic power to this room in which she had spent so many achy, post-accident hours in her youth. If she was, it was certainly evidence of a divine being with a very sick sense of humour.
“Now, Miss Tonks,” the matron said, in that particular tone of resignation that she seemed to reserve only for her. “Lie still a moment. I’ve fixed the bump on your head but you were showing clear signs of stress and exhaustion so I dosed you with a little sleeping tonic. You should feel much better once you’ve woken up properly.”
“Sleep? You made me sleep?” It was probably a good thing that Tonks’ dozy mind took a few moments to grasp the reality of what she’d just been told, for those brief seconds of salvation allowed Madam Pomfrey to step away from the bed and avoid an undignified death by strangulation.
Did she just say she made me sleep?
“How long?” Her voice released the question almost unbidden. “How long have I been asleep?”
Madam Pomfrey glanced over her shoulder with a wan smile. “Only a couple of hours, dear. Not long.”
“Remus? Have they got Remus back?”
The smile faded instantly. “No, they haven’t. From what Minerva tells me, they’re still waiting for Dumbledore to come out of the Wizengamot.”
“Still?” Tonks shot bolt upright on the bed, discovering as she did so that she was still fully dressed and lying on top of the covers, not beneath them. “But Remus has been in the Institute for hours now! Merlin knows what’s been done to him!”
The Matron’s expression was wretched. “I know, Miss Tonks. Minerva tried making an appeal for his release, but with the Ministry so busy with that Death Eater they captured, she was all but ignored. They need Dumbledore’s weight to get any attention for it.”
Tonks almost asked about rescue plans before remembering the school matron was hardly likely to be privy to them. A burning sense of urgency was usurping the chill cold of concern within her chest. “I have to go,” she started, swinging her legs around as she braced herself to leap up from the bed. “I have to find…”
But the words dried away as Poppy Pomfrey’s eyes narrowed in an ominously familiar fashion. “You’re going nowhere,” she retorted brusquely. “You’ve had a nasty bump and you need to rest. Now lie yourself back down and I’ll fetch you a tonic…”
“But I don’t need a tonic!” Tonks almost wailed her protest, her voice rife with frustration. Her head was fine “ in fact, it felt clearer and sharper than it had before her unfortunate headfirst encounter with the gauntleted fist of that temperamental suit of armour. She wanted to do something, to act, just as she’d intended and the bump was nothing “ less than nothing. She’d done worse things to herself getting dressed, for crying out loud!
But in the world of the Hogwarts Matron, there was no person alive who did not need a tonic. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Madam Pomfrey turned sharply on her heel once more as she moved briskly in the direction of her office. “Now lie yourself down and wait there. Minerva will be down with news as soon as she has any.”
And with that, the Matron strode into her office and was gone.
A moment later, so was Tonks.
Her feet were touching the ground barely a second after Madam Pomfrey’s retreat, her hand on the Hospital Wing door mere moments later. And then she was moving hurriedly down the corridor, leaving the world of rest and tonics well behind.
I’ve already lost several hours. I have to hurry.
I have to get Remus out of there. Before moonrise. Before it’s too late.
For both of us.
That was her intention. That was her goal.
Already, her brain was settling into reassuring professionalism. Her vent had done its job “ her tumultuous emotions, satisfied temporarily by their romp through the feathers, were no longer impairing her thoughts. Mentally, she ticked off her needs as she strode down the corridors of Hogwarts towards the broom cupboard outside the staff room and the slimy secret passage that emerged in the Three Broomsticks well.
Wand. Check. It was still tucked safely into her belt “ Madam Pomfrey had not thought to remove it.
Hand Weapon in case of transformed werewolves. Not in that moment, perhaps, but a brief detour and the borrowing of a short sabre from a rather more obliging suit of armour checked that box as well. Knowing herself and sharp objects rather too well, Tonks took a moment to shrink it before she folded it into her robes.
Disguise. Normally an automatic check, but with her hair suffering from a brown attack, there were no guarantees. Wearily, Tonks reminded herself to do a disillusionment spell just in case.
Determination. Big fat hairy check in that column.
Way inside. Soon to be check. The portkey was a mere secret passage away.
Plan.
Plan?
That, Tonks had to admit, was a stalling point. It was difficult to make a decent plan when she had absolutely not idea what she was about to get herself into. But making things up as she went along had worked well enough in the past. She would just have to hope for the best.
Luck. Did she have luck?
Merlin, I hope so. Because I’m going to need it.
The staff room corridor opened out before her. Eyes filled with determination, Tonks made a beeline for the broom cupboard.
“Achoo!”
“Ron!”
It was a small sneeze, a murmured hiss, barely audible really but it was familiar enough to make Tonks spin on her heel and regard the empty corridor behind her with hands on hips and a steely gaze.
“Haven’t you three spent enough time sneaking around under that thing today?” she remarked acidly, addressing the uncaring air with a stern expression. For an instant she wondered if they were going to be so foolish as to try and slink away “ but a moment later the air rippled as Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley appeared from beneath their invisibility cloak wearing sheepish looks of apology.
Hermione was the first to venture forth into the turbulence of Tonks’ mood. “Tonks, we’re really sorry about what happened earlier,” she said nervously, her eyes darting between the Auror’s faces and a patch of floor not far from her toes. “We didn’t even realise you were there until you were… well, there. And then it was too late to get out of the way…”
“We tried, though.” Ron jumped bravely in after his friend. “But we were all so tangled up in the cloak and then there was that suit of armour…”
“We’re really sorry,” Hermione repeated once more. Her eyes wandered upwards once more. “How’s your head?” she inquired uncertainly.
“Fine.” Tonks really wasn’t in the mood for this “ it was another delay, a few minutes more that kept her from reaching Remus and the Institute. “I’m fine, apology accepted. But maybe you’d like to explain why you’re following me?”
When Harry stepped forward to take this query, Tonks experienced a sudden, powerful feeling of suspicion. Oh no, surely they’re not going to…
“Because we want to help you.”
Oh, they are. “Help me with what?”
“With this.” Bullishly, Harry flourished a piece of paper, With a cold chill, Tonks realised that it was the note she had intended for Dumbledore.
Her expression darkened. “That note was private.”
Hermione at least had the decency to flush. “You dropped it when you fell. Ron just picked it up, we didn’t mean to read it…”
“But you did.” Tonks was glaring now.
“We did.” Harry had no compunction against glaring back. “So we know you’re going after Professor Lupin. And we want to come too.”
“No.” That was simple enough. Aside from the fact that Dumbledore would have her guts for garters if she knowing took the Harry Potter and his two best friends into the heart of a dangerous building full of potential Death Eaters and werewolves beneath a full moon rising, she really could do without the hassle of having anything else to worry about.
Three mouths had already opened, a plethora of arguments hovering on their lips, but Tonks cut across each with brutal efficiency.
She pointed to Hermione. “Your parents would kill me.”
She pointed to Ron. “You parents would definitely kill me.”
She pointed to Harry. “And Dumbledore would kill me. Simple as that. So no. Back to your common room, all three of you. I don’t have time for this.”
Harry’s green eyes hardened like twin emeralds but Tonks was painfully aware that she did not have the leisure to make this a debate. “No, Harry,” she repeated sternly, meeting those fierce eyes with a harsh stare of her own. “This isn’t a game. I know what you’re going to say “ you can handle yourselves, you’ve taken on You-Know-Who himself and I respect that. And I know you want to help Remus “ Merlin knows, I do too. But this is not your fight. Please. Just go.”
Harry didn’t move. But he didn’t argue either.
Ron and Hermione exchanged a solemn glance. Both sighed.
Normally, Tonks would not have trusted to luck that this silence was an agreement. But she had to go.
And so, without another word, Tonks turned sharply and yanked open the broom closet door.
I’m coming, Remus. I’m coming…