1. Brewing Lessons
Horace Slughorn selected another piece of crystallized pineapple and popped it into his mouth before turning back to the letter he had just opened. Written with bright purple ink, in handwriting that was more enthusiastic than elegant, it contained a rather unusual request.
Dear Professor Slughorn,
I am a former Hogwarts student who would like to learn to brew a potion that is said to be quite difficult. May I consult with you about it? I am available evenings and weekends and will visit your office at your convenience.
Sincerely,
Nymphadora Tonks
Chewing slowly, he tried to match a face to the name, but couldn't; his correspondent must have come through school while Snape was Potions master. Could be that Tonks boy's daughter, he mused. Didn't he marry Andromeda Black?
Slughorn wasn't sure he wanted to bother with teaching a difficult potion to an unknown witch, but after so many years spent piecing together networks of useful contacts, that part of his mind was already scheming. Who was this person, and what did she want to brew, and why? Might as well let her come and talk to me – it'll be a bit of entertainment. I can always decline to help once I find out what she wants. He scrawled an invitation on a fancy piece of parchment bearing his monogram, and the waiting owl carried it off into the night.
The next evening found Tonks striding up through the Hogwarts grounds to the castle, chin held high. I'm not nervous. I'm not. Surely I can talk him into helping me. She had taken pains to look something approaching conventional: a solid, upstanding citizen with only the most noble of motives. Her hair was still short and spiky, but it was black instead of turquoise or shocking pink, and she was dressed rather like a staid Ministry bureaucrat.
Following Slughorn's directions, she navigated the castle's stairways and corridors until she arrived at his office.
He opened the door as soon as she knocked. "Miss Tonks. So delighted to meet you. Please come in." He showed her to a very soft armchair and settled himself into an even softer one. The office was large, but it was cramped with overstuffed furniture and strewn about with knickknacks. Slughorn even had a roaring fire going – in July. Tonks found the whole atmosphere rather oppressive.
"Thank you for agreeing to see me, Professor," she began politely, perching gingerly on the edge of the armchair to keep it from engulfing her.
"You're most welcome, my dear. Now, let me see...Tonks is not a very common name. Are you Ted and Andromeda's daughter, perhaps?" She nodded, surprised, and he smiled smugly, pleased that his guess had been correct. "Aha – that makes you a descendant of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black."
Tonks tried not to frown. "Not in any relevant sense, really. The family disowned my mother for marrying my father, so they'll never acknowledge me." And I'm not exactly sorry, since they've always been a pack of Dark-Arts loving, prejudiced purebloods – the ones that aren't outright Death Eaters.
"A pity." Slughorn shook his head. "Being a Black can open a lot of doors in wizarding society, you know." His visitor's ill-concealed expression of distaste at those words piqued his curiosity again, but he filed away the information for future analysis and smoothly changed the subject. "So, I understand you're interested in brewing a difficult potion. Which one is it?"
Tonks nodded again, keeping her eyes wide and innocent and her tone casual. "Yes, Professor. I'd like to learn to brew Wolfsbane."
This was not at all an answer that Slughorn was expecting.
He stared at her for a moment, his florid jocularity rapidly fading. When he spoke, his tone was guarded. "That is a difficult potion, Miss Tonks. Not everyone would have the skill to learn to brew it."
"I have a N.E.W.T. in Potions," she replied, attempting an ingratiating smile (not generally one of her strong points). "I'm sure I could do it, if you helped me practice."
"N.E.W.T. level, eh? Hmmph." Slughorn was still eyeing her shrewdly. "But it's not only that the potion is difficult to brew, you see. There are security concerns."
"Security concerns?" It was a close call, but Tonks managed not to roll her eyes. Of course there were security concerns. Anyone with half an ounce of common sense could see that. A potion that allowed werewolves to keep their own, human minds during the full moon would prevent a well-meaning werewolf from hurting anyone, but the opportunities it would create for a werewolf who wanted to attack people, someone like Fenrir Greyback, were too horrible to contemplate. And she would only be able to get what she needed from Slughorn if he didn't think she was contemplating those opportunities. She held the old teacher's gaze and tried to look both meek and persuasive – and certainly not desperate, for heaven's sake.
"Who is the potion for?" Slughorn glanced out the window at the full moon, just visible through a gap between the clouds above the Forbidden Forest. "Not you, obviously, as you're here now."
"A friend," said Tonks firmly. I'll do whatever else it takes, but you're not getting his name out of me. Especially if you're the sort that thinks being a Black is a good way to get ahead in life. She shivered in spite of herself, her thoughts straying to a shabby basement flat and a wolf, trapped, howling and thrashing in self-destructive rage. "Someone whose health I'm concerned about."
Slughorn frowned, absently smoothing his sleek moustache. This Miss Tonks was obviously putting on an act to try to get around him, but there was a certain honest pleading, just discernable behind the false saintliness, that made him feel...sympathetic?
Finally he sighed, shaking his head; perhaps he was remembering a certain careless disclosure of sensitive information in his past, one with deadly and ongoing consequences. "If I don't know who the potion is for, and why you want it, I'm afraid I can't help you. In dangerous times like these, we must be very careful about security."
Tonks's bitter disappointment was entirely unfeigned. Grasping at straws, she blurted, "But I'm not a security risk – I work at the Ministry!"
Slughorn smiled blandly. "Unfortunately, as the Headmistress so often reminds us, that's not necessarily an adequate credential these days."
Tonks blinked. The Headmistress...McGonagall! Of course! Cursing herself for not thinking of this before, she pasted her innocent expression back on. "Professor – would you just talk to the Headmistress before you make up your mind? She might be willing to vouch for me."
Slughorn knew that the sensible thing to do was to send his visitor on her way. But this whole situation was so very interesting! Why was a nice young witch like this concerned about werewolves? And why was she so emotional about it?
Minerva McGonagall looked up from her desk at the knock on the door. "Come in."
"Good evening, Minerva. May I have a moment?"
Slughorn was flushed and a little out of breath, as though he'd been hurrying. McGonagall wondered what could possibly be important enough make him expend actual effort. "Certainly, Horace."
He sat, mopping his brow with a flowery silk handkerchief. "It's most intriguing. A young witch has come to see me. Wants to learn to make a potion. But it's a sensitive situation – security risk, don't you know. I was hoping you could tell me a little more about her."
"Who is it?" asked McGonagall sharply, reflexively wary.
"A young woman named Nymphadora Tonks."
"Ah." McGonagall's face cleared. "I know Miss Tonks quite well. In fact, I've been in touch with her often these last few years."
"I see." Slughorn, reading between the lines, took that to mean that his visitor was a member of poor old Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix. As far as anyone knew, Dumbledore had only been hoodwinked by two members of the Order in twenty years. Those were fairly good odds...
McGonagall allowed herself a small smile. "I suppose the potion in question is Wolfsbane?"
Slughorn stared. "How on earth did you know that?"
"Rumour has it," she said delicately, "that Miss Tonks has recently begun a romantic relationship with Remus Lupin."
"Oho!" Slughorn beamed. Expending effort had paid off. Now he understood the reason behind the young woman's anxious stubbornness. "I remember Lupin. Quiet boy. Nothing particularly interesting about him – apart from his condition, of course."
McGonagall frowned a bit primly at her Potions master. She didn't necessarily agree with Slughorn's views on what kinds of people were interesting. "In any case, he's absolutely trustworthy. They both are."
Slughorn nodded thoughtfully and heaved himself out of his chair. "Thank you, Minerva."
She watched him leave, hoping Tonks would be able to persuade him to help her. Goodness knows Remus deserves it.
Slughorn strolled slowly back through the corridors toward his office, sorting and filing his new information. So crafty Miss Tonks was a member of the Order of the Phoenix. That would certainly explain her attitude toward the Black family. Lupin was probably in the Order as well – he had been the last time around. If I help with the Wolfsbane, I'll collect two Order members who owe me favours. Might be useful if I get into a tight spot.
He made his way carefully down a broad staircase, considering which of the many ingredients required to brew Wolfsbane were difficult to prepare. I wonder if she's as good at Potions as she says she is. As much as he had looked forward all year to a summer of leisure, he had to admit it would be interesting to have a bit of a mental challenge from time to time during the holidays.
And somewhere, in the depths of his mind, shone a faint, distant memory of how it felt to be young and in love. Not that that has anything to do with this, of course. Slughorn reminded himself firmly that he was much too practical to base his decisions on such sentimental nonsense. Hmmph.
Come on, McGonagall, come on – tell him I'm all right. Tonks was standing as far from the well-stoked fire as she could get, idly reading the titles on one of Slughorn's bookshelves. He'd been gone longer than she'd expected, and patience wasn't one of her strong points either. Please.
The clouds shifted. Cold light poured across the floor. Tonks turned toward the window to scowl at the bright, pitiless moon. "I'll get this, Remus," she whispered. "I promise. If Slughorn won't help me, maybe someone at St. Mungo's will." She clenched her fists and tried not to worry about what he must be going through. Eleven hours to moonset.
Heavy footsteps sounded in the corridor. Tonks spun around to face the door, her heart pounding. Slughorn swept into the office and paused dramatically, letting the tension build. Then he winked. "So it's for Remus Lupin, is it?"
Tonks bristled. "I was attempting to respect his privacy."
Slughorn chuckled at her protectiveness, waving a hand expansively. "He was a student of mine, you know. All of us on staff were aware of his condition."
Her eyes widened. "Then – if you know Remus, surely –"
Relenting, he ended the suspense. "The headmistress has indeed approved your request, so I suppose there's no reason why I shouldn't help you with this."
Tonks drew a deep breath and closed her eyes briefly. "Thank you." Abandoning her strained attempt at an angelic persona, she gave her new mentor a real grin.
Slughorn rubbed his hands together in anticipation of the intellectual and practical challenges ahead. "All right, then, let's go down to the Potions classroom and see what we can do."