Chapter 55
Tonks’ Tea Party
Hastily, Harry separated the old photographs from the newer ones that Colin had delivered. He tucked the old ones into the front cover of his parent’s photo album to be inserted later “ he couldn’t bear to even think about that now.
As he slipped the new photos into his bureau drawer, his hand brushed against the letter from the Gringott’s estate agent that he had squirreled away unopened. Today was as good a day as any to tackle that onerous beast, Harry told himself as he carefully broke the seal. He settled himself on the window ledge to read by the warm morning rays.
The letter was perfunctory, but it did provide him with the information concerning the disposition of the Potter estate (land, house, and contents) as specified in his parents’ will. It stipulated that half was to go to him; the other half to be divided among Misters Black, Lupin and Pettigrew. Although it was disconcerting that a portion had been bequeathed to his parents’ betrayer, Harry had long ago steeled himself for such a possibility. It was particularly fitting that the official record still listed Pettigrew as deceased. Without a shred of remorse, Harry decided that he would just follow Lupin’s lead in that respect. In a perverted way, he was doing Pettigrew a favor by allowing him to remain anonymous.
In the light of their most current information, the estate agent warranted that five-sixths of the estate should now belong to Harry, with a one-sixth portion being allotted to Lupin. Harry was not sure that he agreed with the goblin’s reasoning despite all its legal precedents. He pulled out a blank sheet of parchment to draft his response, keeping in mind the Headmistress’ advice.
In no uncertain terms, he indicated that it was his intention to uphold his parents express desire that he maintain only a one-half interest in the estate with the other half to be distributed among their closest friends. Considering that neither Mr. Black nor Mr. Pettigrew were in a position to claim their portion (he was very mindful of his wording in this part), the remaining half should be conveyed in its entirety to Mr. Lupin. Recalling that it might be generations before the Fidelius Charm was released, he added a provision that would allow for Lupin’s portion to be passed on to his heirs in the event that he was unable to claim it personally.
Knowing that Remus was likely to see things differently, Harry pondered long and hard before he was satisfied with his coup de grâce. He smiled broadly at the words on the parchment before him:
Moreover, it is my express intent that neither Gringott’s nor its employees convey, in any shape or form, that the wording of the final will and testament of James and Lily Potter allows for any other distribution of the assets. In all cases, the provisions contained within this letter are to be presented as their own conclusions, without any qualifiers whatsoever. The contents of this letter to remain confidential without my express written permission to the contrary.
Applying a quick-dry charm to the ink, Harry scooped up the parchment and set off for the Headmistress’ office. He was not certain that she would be present on a Sunday, but he was willing to give it a try. He was pleasantly surprised when McGonagall answered his knock almost immediately.
“I’ve drafted a response to Gringott’s that could use witnessing,” Harry explained the reason for his visit.
If McGonagall was surprised, she did not show it as she stacked the other papers on her desk to the side.
“Do you wish to maintain the confidentiality of the document?” she inquired briskly. “We can cover the body--”
“That won’t be necessary, Headmistress,” Harry interrupted in a polite tone. “Although I’m trusting you to respect the confidentiality, I would prefer that you review my words to see if they are adequate.”
McGonagall adjusted the square frames of her reading glasses and took up the document. When she had finished reading, she looked at Harry directly.
“I believe everything is in order,” she concurred. “The curt nature of your sentences will convince them that you mean business. Might I ask how you managed to affect the tone so flawlessly?”
“Promise you won’t laugh.” Harry smiled indulgently. “I imagined Severus Snape dictating the words to me.”
McGonagall tried to hide her smile as she replied in a more businesslike manner, “Very imaginative. You did an admirable job of countering any arguments that Remus might raise.”
“I’ve just seen to it that he inherits half of my parents’ estate; it shouldn’t surprise you that I’m familiar with how his mind works.”
“He will still protest…”
“But he won’t be successful,” Harry asserted.
The Headmistress nodded her approval then turned a more grandmotherly gaze in his direction. “You have been very generous,” she commented softly.
“He’s been very generous with me -- in ways that required a lot more effort than just writing a letter,” Harry replied candidly. “What’s more, I expect that he and Tonks will be starting a family soon and a spot of land might come in handy.”
“Don’t you plan on having a family of your own, Harry?” McGonagall asked with a twinkle to her eye.
“Eventually, but I suspect Remus will beat me to it.”
“I suspect you’re right about that,” McGonagall added with a small chuckle.
“Besides, that tract of land will have a lot more meaning for him than it does for me. Let him continue with the legacy of the Marauders “ he’s certainly earned that right through blood and tears.”
He lifted up his head at the soft knock on the door frame to find Hermione looking at him expectantly.
“Colin told me about the problems with the photos,” she began in a sympathetic tone.
Harry closed the photo album where he had been replacing the weathered photographs of his parents and rose from the desk. He handed her the new photos that Colin had completed. “Here are the new ones.”
“You know, his idea of starting an album of your own isn’t a bad one…” Hermione recommended.
“I just hate to lose the last little bit I have of my parents.” Harry sighed gloomily. “It’s as if I have no history.”
“Make your own, chum.” Ron smiled as he joined them. “There are thousands of people in the world who would love to divest themselves of their past.”
“Have them come talk to me, then.” Harry’s laugh had a bitter edge to it. “Trust me, it’s overrated.”
“Some of these are quite good,” Hermione raved as she flipped through the new photos. “Do you have another album?”
“Nope.”
“I bet we can get one via owl service,” she suggested sagely.
Seeing that no one else was about, Ron broached the subject that had been weighing on everyone’s mind.
“Have you given any thought to how we might destroy the album Horcrux?”
Harry shrugged noncommittally. “The only thing I have of theirs is the album itself.”
“What about asking Lupin?” Hermione posed helpfully. “He shared the house with your parents before their death. Maybe he had some little memento, something of theirs that got accidentally mixed up with his own belongings.”
“Other than the fact that I don’t want to give him any clues about our Horcrux project,” Harry began gingerly, “I suspect that all of his personal belongings were still in the house the night that Voldemort attacked.”
Ron nodded to indicate that he agreed with Harry’s analysis. “That’s consistent with the tale I heard while growing up: mainly that Lupin lost everything the night that Harry’s parents were killed. I think my parents meant that in every way.”
Inspired by a new idea, Hermione proposed, “Wouldn’t the Potters have had a house-elf?”
“Dunno.” Harry shrugged.
“But it would make sense, mate,” Ron agreed. “Perhaps Dobby would know.”
For the first time ever, though, Dobby was less than helpful.
“Dobby is most aggrieved, sir, but Dobby was never privileged to meet the Potters’ house-elf. My former master was not on very good terms with the Potters.”
“But did they have a house-elf, Dobby? Can you at least confirm that?” Harry urged gently.
Dobby turned his orb-like eyes in Harry’s direction as he nodded dismally. “Yes, Harry Potter. Dobby remembers that his mother, Dilby, used to speak of her.”
“Do you remember her name by any chance?” Hermione inquired with a soft smile. “It’s very important, Dobby.”
Dobby nodded tearfully and squeaked, “Her name was Sukie, but she passed away long before I came to work at Hogwarts. Sukie was already getting on in years when her house exploded, sir. My mum said she was never the same after that.”
“So the Potters had made provisions for her to work at Hogwarts in the event of their deaths?” Ron asked politely.
“That is standard procedure, sir, when there are no magical heirs or the heirs will not be residing with magical folk.”
“Would it be possible to contact your mother, Dobby?” Harry appealed.
Dobby burst out in tears. “Dilby is dead, too, sir. Mr. Malfoy was ever so cruel to her. She died long before Sukie did!” With a handkerchief that could practically serve him as a cloak, Dobby wiped his bulbous eyes before Disapparating shakily.
The full moon was less than one week away. Based on the cryptic information that Tonks had relayed, it did not appear that they were going to give Lupin any potion at all, not even the basic Wolfsbane version. Granted, the medical studies had recommended such a respite to allow for a full recovery but it was a risky choice under the circumstances. Harry was gratified to learn that the Headmistress held Lupin’s personal well-being in such high regard, even though they would need to be extremely careful. Luckily in this instance, the night in question fell at the weekend so it would be easier to keep from being discovered.
As the day of the full moon approached, Lupin grew more apprehensive and restless. Though he assured Harry that he had been through this hundreds of times, his uneasiness was palatable every time he let down his guard.
Tonks was putting a brave face on it as well, laughing a little too loudly at her student’s jokes and trying to appear as if nothing was amiss when she was in the same room as her husband. After she’d tripped over her footstool and bruised her hip on the same desk corner numerous times during class, Harry felt that he needed to come to her rescue.
“Tonks, would you like to sit a vigil with me on Friday night? I’m certain we can see the Whomping Willow from the far window in the Transfiguration classroom “ the one with the window seat.”
Tonks beamed at Harry and nodded eagerly. “We can bring pillows and everything!”
“Remus doesn’t lock his classroom, does he?” Harry asked as a possible roadblock occurred to him.
“Just the aerie,” Tonks assured him. “Just in case, though, I know where he keeps his keys; he’s very mindful of things like that.”
“If Filch catches me out after curfew, though, you’ll have to be my alibi,” Harry warned.
She grinned. “He’ll have to catch us first!”
At the predetermined hour, Harry waited for Tonks to join him as he watched the approaching twilight through the courtyard windows of Lupin’s darkened classroom. He had convinced the Layettes to loan him the Omnioculars for some “bird-watching” and was thus able to clearly distinguish the small figures of Lupin and Tonks as they strolled hand-in-hand around the lake. It was not unusual for them to take a sunset stroll so their actions were not likely to arouse any suspicions. He was surprised, though, when Lupin pulled Tonks into the deep shadows for an extended embrace. He had to remind himself that without a low light filter, he would not be able to see them himself. Harry moved to the far window to watch them walk together up the slope to the front doors and then break apart, Lupin waving jauntily as he veered in the direction of the Whomping Willow.
The shadows were deepening quickly as the last ruddy glow seemed to melt into the horizon. Harry felt Tonks’ hand on his arm as he observed an indistinct feline shape detach itself from the shadows and slink among the tree roots in Lupin’s wake. He handed the Omnioculars to her so she could see for herself.
Harry settled himself among the pillows in the window seat so that he was facing Tonks, but it was just too difficult to keep watch from that angle. In the end, they arranged themselves shoulder to shoulder to both observe the tree comfortably. Harry laid his wand on the window sill so that it would be handy in an emergency. The wooden sill had a slight indentation that was perfectly suited to his purpose.
It had not come as a shock to him when Lupin declined to set a Friday afternoon session for the two of them. After exchanging a few words of moral support before Lupin excused himself to take a short nap, Harry grabbed the opportunity for a quick rest even though he’d forced himself to stay in bed until almost noon that morning in preparation.
Tonks did not have quite as much flexibility in her schedule. Harry suspected that once she wound down, sheer exhaustion would likely take over. He had taken the precaution of casting a muffliato charm so they could speak normally without risking Filch’s suspicions. Harry had dodged the man enough throughout the years to know that, unless a light or noise alerted him of trouble, he generally did not check classrooms whose doors were closed.
They munched on the sandwiches that Harry had obtained from the kitchen, but both of them were too keyed up to eat properly. As the hour of midnight approached, he could see that Tonks would soon be nodding off as he adjusted himself so that he could ease her gently to the other side of the seat cushion if necessary.
The last thing Harry remembered was the orange orb of the full moon finally cresting the top of the Whomping Willow. Its thrashing branches rustled sinuously in the breeze, casting dancing shadows across the lawn.
Harry felt a heavy hand fall on his shoulder and he quickly fumbled for his wand. He straightened his glasses with his wrist as his other hand seemed to be buried under Tonks’ shoulder.
Through a fog, he heard, “No need to worry, Harry. It’s only me,” in Lupin’s familiar voice, although it seemed more gravelly than usual.
At the flash of a wand tip, his eyes flew open to find Lupin kneeling by the window seat, Tonks’ wand in his hand. It was still dark outside but the moon had already set; it must be close to daybreak.
“When I didn’t find Tonks in the residence, I had a feeling I would find her here.” Lupin smiled lopsidedly. “Minerva’s still curled up asleep in the Shrieking Shack.”
“I’m so glad to see you, Remus,” Harry whispered so as not to wake Tonks. Suddenly, he was embarrassed that Lupin’s wife was practically curled up in his lap. “Please excuse how this looks…”
“Don’t worry about it, I’m hardly presentable myself.”
Harry noticed that there were leaves and shards of bark intertwined in Lupin’s hair and that there were a number of scratches on his face and hands. He was dressed differently than last night which explained why his clothing seemed so clean in comparison. Noticing the import of Harry’s searching glance, Lupin volunteered that Tonks had insisted on packing an extra set of clothing in his rucksack and it had certainly come in handy.
“Some of what I had on last night may be destined for the dustbin, I’m afraid.”
“What about tonight, Remus? Will you have to go through this again?” Harry asked with concern, noticing the haggard look on Lupin’s face.
“Probably not, but I expect all my muscles and joints will ache fiercely once the moon rises again. The pain is always amplified at first when you discontinue the Wolfsbane treatment.”
“Was it really terrible?” Harry had to ask, even though he knew he was treading on personal ground.
“Nothing I’m not painfully familiar with.” Lupin shrugged with a haunted look to his features. “Come, you need to be back in your dormitory before anyone discovers you. Who knows what Filch would misconstrue from this little scene. I need to get Tonks back to the residence as well and the closest access is from my office down the hall.”
With Harry’s assistance, Lupin was able to scoop Tonks into his arms. Dreamily, she mumbled, “Remus, is that you?” as she cuddled up sleepily with her arms encircling his shoulders.
“It’s me, cherub. Nothing to worry about,” he crooned as Harry quickly retrieved their pillows and other belongings.
Harry held the office door open for them and watched as Lupin lowered Tonks shakily to one of the armchairs by the fire.
“Thanks again, Harry,” Lupin smiled as he caught him up in a one-armed hug. Then turning his attention back to Tonks, he spoke softly in her ear, “Time to wake up, sweetheart. We can only access the residence individually.”
Harry closed the door noiselessly behind him with a great sigh of relief. He thanked the lucky stars that there had been no complications that night.
It was already lunchtime when Harry awoke. The common room was empty, so he wandered down the marble staircase in search of some food and companionship in the Great Hall. Sweeping his gaze over the huddled heads, he did not see either Ron or Hermione at the Gryffindor table. Ginny smiled in his direction and he felt his heart sing in response. With a spring in his step, he quickly squeezed into the empty space next to her.
“How did Apparition classes go this morning?” he asked lamely, not coming up with anything else to say on the spur of the moment.
“It was testing day,” she answered glumly.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t pass?” Harry gasped incredulously. Ginny was second only to Hermione when it came to learning spells quickly and effortlessly.
“I would’ve left them in the dust “ literally,” she scoffed with a certain note of pride. “That pencil-pushing prat, Twycross, wouldn’t even let me sit the exam!”
“Of course, Ginny, my mind must be in my other trousers,” Harry mumbled apologetically. He’d forgotten that only those whose seventeenth birthday fell before today’s date would be allowed to take the qualifying exam. “The same thing happened to me; I had to wait until the summer to take the test as well.”
“Why should I waste their time all over again?” Ginny protested. “I’ve demonstrated to him more than once that I can do the bloody thing perfectly!”
“You could make them regret that they made you wait,” Harry suggested. When Ginny got through with him, Twycross would join the ranks of those who rued the day they’d ever crossed her, Harry smiled inwardly.
“It would be a waste of my time to call him an amateur,” Ginny cried. “The queue for that runs around the block.”
“Why not show him instead?” Harry prompted with a mischievous grin.
“I’m beginning to remember why I like you so much,” she whispered eagerly as she drew close enough that they would not be overheard. “What exactly did you have in mind?”
“Have Tonks teach you the faerie lights variation,” he delivered with conviction.
“Pernicious pumpkins, Harry, that one’s really difficult to pull off!” Ginny sighed. “She makes it look easy, sure, but she transfers from one foot to the other without pause in the middle of the turn. Believe me, I’ve watched it over and over in the instant replay mode.”
“So have her teach you the turn combination first,” Harry urged. “You can practice that just about anywhere. Worry about turning it into an Apparition later: I’m sure that’s how Tonks did it.”
“Well, she does owe me for showing her the spell combinations we use in dueling…”
“Hey, Ginny!” called Alexandra, the newest Gryffindor Beater. “Are you going to plot revolution or play Quidditch today?”
“Will I see you on the field?” Ginny whispered as she jumped up to go change.
“Try to keep me away!” Harry replied happily.
The slight breeze had a tantalizing bite to it as Harry worked his way up into the Quidditch stands. Although it was a clear day, the spring sun was not particularly motivated to come out from behind the whitish clouds. As a result, the wood of the bleachers felt surprisingly cold through the fabric of his corduroy jeans. Belatedly, he wished he’d brought some hot Butterbeer to keep his insides warm.
Still curious about Ron’s and Hermione’s whereabouts, Harry looked for them among the sparse spectators to no avail. He waved to Neville who was sitting with Luna in the Ravenclaw section, noting that they were more involved in preserving body heat than watching the aerial display before them. Ginny was certainly putting them through their drills but it would all come down to how they performed under the gun, Harry concluded. With Slytherin as their opponent, it was impossible to predict what sorts of machinations they would encounter once the match itself was underway.
“Wotcher, Harry!” the tiny figure of Tonks called from the grass below. “Care for some company?”
He smiled and waved her over, greedily eyeing the sports blanket that she had folded under her arm. He was doubly pleased when she revealed that she’d brought a thermos of hot mulled cider as well.
“Don’t tell Remus I borrowed his Muggle artifact,” she said with a grin.
“How is he?” Harry inquired softly even though they were the only ones in the Gryffindor section. Besides themselves, Harry was certain that only the Headmistress and Madam Pomfrey were privy to last night’s events.
“Sound asleep,” Tonks confirmed. “He woke up around lunch time, but Poppy insisted he take a sleeping draught after she’d tended to all his scrapes. She gave me another dose to give him at tea time.”
“He’s not going to be content to just sleep the weekend away,” Harry countered.
“He will if he wants to be recovered enough by Monday that his classes won’t suspect anything’s amiss,” Tonks hissed with conviction. “I don’t think they’ll accept that he spent a wild night clubbing all over London, do you?”
“Not without photographs and totally inappropriate tales to back it up,” Harry snorted. “Has he ever actually done such a thing?”
“You know I can’t tell you that without an obligatory Obliviation!” she returned with a grin. “Want to come along after the end of term? You can bring Ginny.”
“She won’t be old enough until August.” Harry sighed regretfully.
“Don’t even suggest the alternative to Remus; we’ll plan for a date in August!” Tonks giggled merrily.
Seeing that she was in a rather giddy mood, Harry seized the opportunity. “I know it’s not exactly part of the curriculum, but I was hoping you’d help me out with something, Tonks,” he began hesitantly. Emboldened by the mischievous look she shot him, he whispered the special request he’d been secretly nursing for some time.
Tonks’ eyes widened with appreciation. “You would go to that much trouble just to impress a girl!”
“For Ginny,” Harry clarified, “I would go to hell and back.”
“For that, you’d need the Czarina herself!” Tonks laughed. “All right, Harry, I’ll help you out in my own way. I warn you that it’s a rather unconventional approach, though.”
“Whatever it takes.” Harry smiled at his small victory.
“How about we start tomorrow after lunch?”
“Tell me the truth, though, what really brings you out here today, Tonks?” Harry asked as he helped himself to some tea sandwiches. Harry had invited Tonks back to their common room and she had graciously ordered enough for Ron, Hermione and Neville, although none of the others were present at the moment.
“Honestly, I was about to go crazy in the residence! There’re only so many times I can check on Remus without disturbing his hibernation. Believe me, the similarity to a grizzly bear can be quite striking!”
“So you want to hang with us tonight?” Harry offered magnanimously.
“For a while,” Tonks agreed. “I’m going to a Hen Party later.”
“Really?” Harry was intrigued. “Can you tell me more without the Obliviator Squad moving into position?”
Tonks laughed merrily, then explained, “It was all Pomona’s idea, she’s going to borrow Filius’ shot glass chessmen.”
“I didn’t know you played chess.”
“Not much, but there will be other games as well. Minerva granted us one of the nicer private rooms at her disposal, so I expect she’ll be there “ at least for a while.”
At the hollow sound of the stone sconce opening, they looked up to find that Ron and Hermione had returned with an undeniable sense of excitement surrounding them. Ginny made up the rear, her hair still damp from the shower. At the sight of the feast before them, they all drew round and started to help themselves.
“You should join us more often, Tonks,” Ron offered with a broad grin. “This spread is magnificent!”
Both Hermione and Ginny fixed him with a glare worthy of Molly Weasley herself as Tonks broke out in laughter.
“Tonks was just telling us she was invited to a Hen Party tonight,” Harry remarked in an attempt to change the subject.
“Define ‘hens’, please,” requested Ginny with apparent interest.
“I expect that in addition to the Headmistresses, Professors Sinistra, Vector, and possibly Hooch will be in attendance. Madam Pomfrey and Irma Pince, too. Professor Trelawney was invited as well, but she rarely socializes with the rest of us.”
“Madam Pince, as in the librarian?” Hermione asked, her curiosity piqued.
“Absolutely, she’s the most rabid Wizard’s Scrabble player among us. Likes to set the indicator to Middle English just to show off. And I thought Remus was insufferable for playing in French, even though he maintains that’s the only way he can deal with all the extra vowels that seem to fall his way.”
“It could be worse,” Ron added with a fond chuckle. “Fred and George always try to play in German considering they get stuck with all the consonants--”
“”only they don’t speak a word of German!” Ginny finished with a laugh. “The game buzzer goes off constantly to warn them of their infractions.”
“Although a lot of those made-up German-sounding words are pretty hilarious!” Harry interjected remembering the night they had played over the holiday break.
“See, that’s just it,” Tonks complained. “Everyone has an angle when they play Scrabble. As much as I like the game, I’m the one stuck playing in dull old English…”
“Not tonight, you won’t be,” Hermione supplied with a grin as she hastily got up from her armchair. She returned moments later with a box labeled: Wizard’s Scrabble for Dummies and Everyone in Between. “We happen to have a prototype from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes that’s begging to be tried out. Just give me some feedback to include in my preliminary report and I’ll make sure you get one of the first ones off the production line.”
Tonks excitedly opened the box and reviewed the newest features. Her eyes lit up as she announced, “You can set the individual players to their chosen language or the entire game as a whole “ and it even allows you to change languages in mid-game. New languages options, too, not that I’m any good at Portuguese or Swedish--”
“I’ve seen Fred do those where it only sounds like he’s speaking the language, but it’s really gibberish!” Ron cried merrily.
“You have to know how to spell the words, Ronald; that’s the point of the whole game,” Hermione reminded him.
“Not anymore, you don’t.” Harry looked up from the box lid he was examining. “It says right here: ‘Tired of being branded a moron just because you can’t spell? Let our new spelling wizard magically organize your tiles for you. Just whisper the word into his ear and start adding up your points!’”
“You still have to know whether you have the proper letters to begin with!” Hermione countered as she rolled her eyes.
“Oy, what’s this?” Ron exclaimed as he held up a little wizard figure with a horn stuck in his ear. It was dressed in the same outlandish style that Harry recalled from his first meeting with Dedalus Diggle in the Leaky Cauldron. Despite the seven years he’d had to become accustomed to the eccentricities of the wizarding world, some customs often seemed designed to draw Muggles’ attention instead of the other way around.
Experimentally, Ron blew into the aged wizard’s tiny horn. The figurine immediately screwed up his face in discomfort and shook his head as if to clear it. Peering up with displeasure at the red-headed giant who held him, the wizard harrumphed, “It’s not a musical trumpet, you idiot! No need to blow into it.”
Everyone laughed appreciatively as they struggled to get a closer look. Neville returned through the sconce and was immediately intrigued by the scene before him as he happily munched on a pastry.
“Try some of those German words the twins made up so they could compete with Fleur’s French,” Harry suggested with a crooked grin.
Ginny laughed merrily at the memory of the rousing game they had played once Bill and Fleur had returned from France. The twins’ innovations had broken up the game entirely, causing Fleur to march crossly up to her room to retrieve her French/English dictionary to counter the constant challenges.
After a moment’s hesitation, Ron uttered a few words that sounded vaguely Germanic directly into the tiny wizard’s megaphone. After registering shock on his tiny wizened face, the spelling wizard shot back a long string of invectives in German. The only word which Harry could distinguish was dumbkoff before the crowd dissolved into giggles at Ron’s expense.
“Here, let me try,” Ginny proposed as she shouldered her way to the front. “I can do a reasonable imitation of Fleur.” Flipping her hair back coquettishly, she turned her pert nose up in the air and addressed the spelling wizard in a whispery voice. Harry instantly recognized Fleur’s broken ‘Eenglish’.
The spelling wizard looked up at her with a put upon expression. Then in a broad Texas drawl, he noted dryly, “English isn’t your first language, is it, dearie?”
Much to everyone’s surprise, Neville demanded a turn of his own. “Please,” he begged, “I have a whole host of mangled French passwords courtesy of the Gryffindor first years. The Fat Lady refused to admit them until someone else came behind them with better pronunciation.”
Not knowing much French himself, it was difficult for Harry to judge just how badly the words were being mispronounced. But the last one, issued in a broad Manchester dialect, threw the entire group into hysterics.
“Sacre-bleu!” the figurine bemoaned at he smacked his forehead with his tiny palm.
“Don’t go tiring him out, now,” Tonks scolded playfully as she urged them to repack the game so she could take it with her. “Can’t you see that at his age he’s going to need a nice long nap before he can tackle all the archaic terms that Poppy’s likely to bandy about?”
“Why don’t you just challenge her words?” Hermione suggested sagely. “Make her prove they really exist.”
“That just ends up with my eyes watering from all the dust in those ancient reference books she retrieves from the Restricted Section,” Tonks bemoaned. “I’m hoping the wizard remembers some of the words from his youth and will come to my aid.”
“That thing’s going to go bonkers with the twins’ made-up words!” Harry laughed.
“The game is going to turn into a free-for-all when the Weasley clan plays,” Hermione announced with a mock grimace.
“And how would this be different from the way it is now?” Ron countered holding his stomach.
“Look at this!” Tonks eeked out between her laughter. “There’s even a setting for Muggle slang. That smug librarian is so going down tonight!”
With a quick glance at the mantle clock, Tonks regretted that it was time for her to prepare for the evening’s activities. She quickly said her goodbyes and thanked Hermione profusely for the loan of the Scrabble game.
“Can I keep it long enough to try it out with Remus as well?” Tonks added with a wink. “I’ll put my Muggle slang up against his French any day.”
“Sure, Tonks.” Hermione grinned. “Too bad you can’t set it to French slang, don’t you think?”
“My dad would just love that!” Tonks agreed. “Although, to have him tell it, a lot of the words sound perfectly innocent unless you add the appropriate hand motion.”
“I understand Italian is like that, too!” Hermione laughed. “That may be truly beyond the capacity of the spelling wizard but it’s certainly worth suggesting.”
“If anything, Fred and George will get a kick out of just imagining it,” Ginny agreed.
“Not that those two ever lack for imagination, mind you,” Ron confided to Harry in an undertone.
“Before I forget, Harry,” Tonks volunteered, “I happened to mention your photo woes to Mum and she sent these along for you.” Tonks pulled out an envelope from her jacket pocket. “Turns out she had some old boxes that belonged to Sirius in the attic and it seemed the perfect time to go through them. The last one is from me “ to help you start an album of your own. Ciao!”
With quick hugs all around, Tonks exited onto the marble staircase and waved one last time. The air in the room seemed somehow bereft without her vivacious presence.
Hermione sighed. “I didn’t have the heart to tell her I’ve been tutoring Remus in Muggle slang.”
“That’s news to me!” Ginny giggled. “You don’t think she knows?”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Harry replied. “You know how secretive Remus can be when he wants.”
Once the echo from the sconce had totally died, Neville turned towards the remaining group with a wide grin on his face. “I should have tried one of those words I overheard the second years banding about with puffed up authority.”
“Such as?” Ron urged eagerly.
Neville squeezed his eyes together in concentration then pronounced, “Mastripulate.”
Amid the laughter, Hermione protested, “That’s not a word, that’s an abomination.”
“The cheating alarms would have blared their heads off!” Ron declared happily.
“Only after the spelling wizard blew a fuse!” Ginny cried.
“Next time,” Harry promised Neville.
Hermione added a suggestion of her own. “Next time you overheard such rubbish, use your Head Boy credentials to demand that they use the word in a sentence.”
“Actually, I was going to offer up a definition of my own,” Harry volunteered with a wicked smirk, “were it not for the possibility of being slapped from both directions!”
Immediately catching on to his import, Ginny gave him a level look. “Or hexed into oblivion!” she assured him ominously.
Ron straightened himself proudly as he offered, “You know, Hermione, you might want to suggest that the wizard be available for separate purchase. He’d be a great conversation starter!”
“Already on it!” Hermione acknowledged as she scribbled furiously into her notepad.
“Let’s see the new photos, Harry,” Ginny urged as she plopped herself down on the sofa and patted the cushion next to her.
Harry carefully pulled out the stack of images from the envelope. True, they mostly centered around Sirius, but they were a fair representation of those days when the Marauders were in their youth. There were quite a few shots of them at Hogwarts, some of which even included his mother, Lily. There was even a pose of Sirius, Remus and James with McGonagall in full Head of House regalia that must have been taken on graduation day. Briefly, he wondered whether Pettigrew had been the one to take the photo, but was more intrigued by how dark and full McGonagall’s hair looked outside of her customary bun. There was even a wedding photo which showed Sirius as the best man in the center of the frame with Lily and James flanking him.
“These are absolutely wonderful!” Hermione breathed from the back of the sofa where she was leaning.
“Which is the one that Tonks added?” Ron asked.
“I’m not quite through with it yet,” Ginny stalled as she held the last photo reverently in her hand. It was slightly larger than the others so the details were clearer. Harry noticed that Ginny was devouring it with her eyes.
“Do you know when this was taken, Harry?” Ginny whispered as she leaned on his shoulder.
Harry looked down at the familiar photo of Remus and Tonks dancing circles around each other. In so many ways, it reminded him of the fading photo of his own parents where they had been spinning giddily among the falling leaves, the very photo that he had enshrined in a frame by his bedside. It made him inexplicably sad to think he was going to have to destroy that fragile link to his past.
Returning his attention to Ginny, he replied, “That was at the Headmistress’ holiday party, held the Saturday before the start of winter term.”
“Then you actually got to see them in person.” Ginny sighed as she handed the photo to Ron.
“They stopped by the common room,” Harry answered truthfully, if not exactly accurately.
“Figures I’d miss it,” she observed wistfully.
It was such an uncharacteristic tone for Ginny that Hermione had to respond, “I don’t know what the big deal is. You have a dress almost identical to that except that it’s a peachy shade.”
“How did you manage that, sis?” Ron asked incredulously.
“Tonks’ mum agreed that shade would suit me, so she gave me the dress,” she admitted with a small shrug. “Tonks said she only needed one anyway, and that she definitely didn’t care for the color of the second one.”
Harry thought that Ginny would look just as ravishing as Tonks in such a dress as he tried to adjust the image in his mind to include the proper color. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Ginny had reclaimed the photo from Ron and was examining it dreamily once again. As her finger skimmed just over the glossy surface, Harry noted that it was the inky blackness of Lupin’s tuxedo that had so captivated her. He filed that fact away in his mind for safekeeping.