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snorkackcatcherI've had a flashback scene, in which Tonks remembers the last time she saw Sirius, sitting on my hard disk since about Christmas! It was meant to appear fairly late on in the story, at a point where the team have finally arrested the criminal in one of their cases; they get the day off, and Tonks decides to use it to go and interview someone who might be able to tell her more about her cousin.
Unfortunately, I realised a little while ago that I really wasn't going to get to this point in the story before July 16th, and that when HBP came out it might well state that nothing like this happened. Since I quite like this scene (sentimentalist that I am) I thought I might as well post it somewhere while it's still a canon possibility! If it still is after reading HBP, then consider this a preview; otherwise, it's probably going to be an outtake.
I don't think it contains any spoilers for the main tale (if you're following this on FictionAlley rather than Chamber of Secrets, it may give clues to what Kingsley was up to, but nothing you probably hadn't already guessed). The setup is basically that Tonks is vacillating about whether to do this, and thinking about various things that have been said to her; and then she has a Sudden Recollection ...
Tonks examined her reflection critically, making a series of small adjustments to her disguise. She ignored her mirror's very reasonable attempts to point out that she looked fine as she was. She wasn't really worried about her appearance. She was worried about what she was proposing to do.
"Any more attempts to conduct your own personal private investigations, and you'll be spending your next year on duty guarding the Minister's teacups."
Claymore had to be pleased with her now after the arrest. So it would be a very bad choice of time to get herself into trouble. She really had no business conducting private investigations on her own account. Even Shacklebolt had told her so, the first time she'd spoken to him.
"Just remember, Tonks, don't, ah, try any freelance work on the Sirius Black case."
He'd changed his mind about that, at any rate. She had no idea what else he'd been expecting her to do with the information he'd given her. He seemed to be playing a game of his own devising, and he hadn't let her into the secret of the rules.
"Even Aurors have been known to keep things secret from the Ministry, if they consider they have good enough reasons."
She scowled at the memory. Well thank you for the advice, Mr Shacklebolt. But the worst of it was that she knew he was right, and she knew she had good reasons. It was merely a case of weighing the risks.
She mentally ran through her plan one last time; with all the precautions she was taking, she couldn't see any way in which she could be found out. But both her recently concluded case and bitter personal experience showed that things didn't always work out that way.
As she wavered, her own words of explanation to Cassius popped into her head.
"He used to visit us a lot, when I was a young kid. He was the nearest thing I had to a proper uncle. My mother always got on well with him; both of them were more or less disowned by their parents because they refused to go along with the pure-blood stuff."
Tonks gasped at the long-buried, more than half-forgotten memory that this recollection suddenly triggered. She recognised it, even at that moment, as one of those rare occasions where two things suddenly fit together unexpectedly, and you finally realised what something had meant.
*****
The rings on the doorbell that day were in a certain coded pattern that to the young Tonks meant simply 'Uncle Sirius is here'. Her mother, who had tensed slightly when the rings started, relaxed when she heard the sequence. Nonetheless, she still picked up her wand before she went to answer and tapped it on the mirror in the hallway. To Tonks' pleasure, a picture of Uncle Sirius standing alone in the porch appeared in it; he was whistling to himself and wearing his usual insouciant grin. Andromeda Tonks pointed her wand at the door, muttered a few incantations to lift the locking spells, and bundled her cousin into the house, quickly resetting the charms on the door. Then she turned to smile at him.
"Uncle Sirius!" The eleven year old Tonks ran to him in delight and he lifted her up and swung her around. "Morning, Dora!" he said mischievously. "How's my favourite little cousin then? Looking forward to learning how to be a proper witch, are you?"
"Yes! I'll get to do real spells and everything, and make loads of new friends, and ..."
"Don't suffocate him, Nymphadora," said her mother in an amused voice. "And I don't know how you get away with calling her that," she said to her cousin in exasperation. "She'd probably have a fit if anyone else did."
"Natural charm, Annie," said Uncle Sirius with a grin. "You don't mind me calling you Annie, do you?" he added with mock solicitousness.
"Yes, but that's never stopped you yet, has it?" She shook her head. "Honestly, Sirius, Ted's the only other person who dares to do that, and he's my husband."
He grinned evilly. "Well, if we'd followed the family traditions I could have been your husband. Ever think of that, eh?"
"Only in moments of extreme depression. Nothing personal, my darling, but I can say with all honesty that thank heavens you aren't. Anyway, you're a bit young for me, even as far as the Blacks are concerned, aren't you? I think I changed your nappies once." Her mother tried to hide a smile as Uncle Sirius looked mortified and Tonks laughed in delight.
"You women know how to leave a man heartbroken, don't you?" he said plaintively. "And I thought you were my nice cousin."
"Oh well, you'll know better next time, won't you?" She snorted, an unusual thing for her mother. "And I've watched your girls come and go, and I've yet to see anyone leave you heartbroken, Sirius Black. So don't bother trying to play sweet and innocent with me. We both know you're not the marrying kind."
"Of course not! Take all the fun out of life, wouldn't it." The grin on his face faded so rapidly that Tonks, looking up at him, was quite startled. "After all, we don't get so much of it these days, do we?"
"No. No, we don't," said her mother heavily, gesturing towards the lounge door to indicate that Sirius should go in and sit down. Tonks hung back, slightly upset by the sudden change in atmosphere. She knew it had to be something to do with the way the war with You-Know-Who was going, and she hoped fervently that Uncle Sirius wasn't in any danger. As the adults passed into the lounge, she heard him quietly mention that a couple of friends would be meeting him later on. Her mother's alarmed reaction to the news of unexpected visitors was calmed by a soothing murmur from her unc ... no, cousin. Oh whatever.
The adults were deep in serious and very dull-sounding conversation when Tonks came back into the room, so she simply ignored them and went off into a corner to play by herself. She didn't dare get out her new Gobstones set; her mother always said it made too much mess on the carpet, and needed far too many cleaning charms to get rid of the smell. So she found the small mirror from her little-used vanity case, and started experimenting with various ways of changing the shape of her nose. She was getting very good at mimicking other people now.
Absorbed in this pursuit, it wasn't until the talking abruptly stopped that the ringing of the doorbell registered in her mind. She instinctively headed towards the window to see who it was, but her mother quickly moved to grab her before she could get there, and then nodded to her cousin. He moved out into the hallway cautiously and tapped the mirror with his wand, then relaxed as he saw who was reflected in it.
"It's my friends," he said. "Look, I have to go, they've got the baby with them, of course. We can't hang around in the open for too long. Not nowadays, Annie. It's too dangerous."
Her mother looked disappointed, but nodded in resignation. "That makes sense. When will we see you again?"
Uncle Sirius looked at her with an expression that the young Tonks couldn't quite interpret. "I can't say, Annie," he said. "Things are a bit up in the air at the moment. Just ... just don't expect to see me round here too often, OK?"
As the grownups embraced, Tonks glanced in the mirror to see what Uncle Sirius' friends were like. Even at that age, it was immediately clear to her that they were all very much on edge. Nearest the road stood a dark-haired man; his brown eyes were constantly darting from side to side, as if he were searching the street for signs of a Snitch. Next to him a pretty red-haired woman was cradling a sleeping baby in her arms. A small man with mousy hair was standing behind them both. All of them were wearing worried looks.
"Dora! A goodbye kiss for your old cousin then." He picked her up and hugged her tightly, then looked at her with surprising intensity in his grey eyes. "Look, young lady ... if I don't see you again for a while, make sure you be a good girl for your mum and dad, eh? Enjoy yourself when you get to school, work hard, and don't do anything I wouldn't have done. That shouldn't restrict you too much." Tonks giggled happily as he gave her his usual laugh, the one that always sounded more like a bark, although she could see her mother rolling her eyes at what he'd said.
As he put her down, her mother nodded to the figures in the mirror. She had the beginnings of a tear in her eye. "You really care about them, Sirius, don't you." It wasn't a question.
"Yes I do, Annie," he said quietly. "We'd ... we'd all give our lives for each other, or the boy, without the slightest hesitation. And the way things are going, we might very well have to if we're not careful." He made a shushing gesture at her mother's look of alarm. "Don't worry about us, Annie. We can look after ourselves, you know that. I'll come to see you all as soon as I can. I promise."
Her mother removed the spells on the door to let him out, and Tonks saw his friends greet him with relief. Tonks watched them in the mirror as they picked up a couple of broomsticks from the bottom of the garden, looked around furtively to make sure that no-one could see them, then mounted. The mousy-haired man was sitting on the back of her cousin's broom; the other two carefully fitted the baby into some kind of harness, then gently climbed aboard themselves. She gasped as the black-haired man threw a silvery cloak over them all and they vanished from sight.
She stared into the mirror for a good ten minutes more, but saw no further sign of them. Eventually it dawned on her that they must have flown off while invisible, and she turned away in disappointment. She really hoped Uncle Sirius would visit again soon.
*****
Now that she thought of it, that last visit had to have been sometime in the summer of 1981. She'd never seen Uncle - no, her cousin - Sirius again. And now, after all these years, it had suddenly fallen into place for her exactly who those other visitors must have been. As soon as she realised, recalling what she knew had happened to them was almost automatic. All three adults dead from her cousin's treachery; the baby somehow surviving, no-one knew how.
And she still couldn't make that memory and that knowledge seem as if they fit together.
She could feel moisture in her eyes as she gazed unseeingly at her reflection in the mirror; then a tear or two trickling down her cheeks; then great, racking sobs as she slumped against her bedroom wall with her head in her hands and cried. She cried with the kind of intensity and incomprehension that comes only from the sudden, unexpected release of long-buried emotions.
It took a very long time - or at any rate what felt like a very long time - for the tears to subside. Then, with movements that were suddenly decisive, without needing or wanting to think about what she was doing any more, Tonks picked herself up, morphed away the puffiness and redness around her eyes, and Apparated out of the room.
Unfortunately, I realised a little while ago that I really wasn't going to get to this point in the story before July 16th, and that when HBP came out it might well state that nothing like this happened. Since I quite like this scene (sentimentalist that I am) I thought I might as well post it somewhere while it's still a canon possibility! If it still is after reading HBP, then consider this a preview; otherwise, it's probably going to be an outtake.
I don't think it contains any spoilers for the main tale (if you're following this on FictionAlley rather than Chamber of Secrets, it may give clues to what Kingsley was up to, but nothing you probably hadn't already guessed). The setup is basically that Tonks is vacillating about whether to do this, and thinking about various things that have been said to her; and then she has a Sudden Recollection ...
Tonks examined her reflection critically, making a series of small adjustments to her disguise. She ignored her mirror's very reasonable attempts to point out that she looked fine as she was. She wasn't really worried about her appearance. She was worried about what she was proposing to do.
"Any more attempts to conduct your own personal private investigations, and you'll be spending your next year on duty guarding the Minister's teacups."
Claymore had to be pleased with her now after the arrest. So it would be a very bad choice of time to get herself into trouble. She really had no business conducting private investigations on her own account. Even Shacklebolt had told her so, the first time she'd spoken to him.
"Just remember, Tonks, don't, ah, try any freelance work on the Sirius Black case."
He'd changed his mind about that, at any rate. She had no idea what else he'd been expecting her to do with the information he'd given her. He seemed to be playing a game of his own devising, and he hadn't let her into the secret of the rules.
"Even Aurors have been known to keep things secret from the Ministry, if they consider they have good enough reasons."
She scowled at the memory. Well thank you for the advice, Mr Shacklebolt. But the worst of it was that she knew he was right, and she knew she had good reasons. It was merely a case of weighing the risks.
She mentally ran through her plan one last time; with all the precautions she was taking, she couldn't see any way in which she could be found out. But both her recently concluded case and bitter personal experience showed that things didn't always work out that way.
As she wavered, her own words of explanation to Cassius popped into her head.
"He used to visit us a lot, when I was a young kid. He was the nearest thing I had to a proper uncle. My mother always got on well with him; both of them were more or less disowned by their parents because they refused to go along with the pure-blood stuff."
Tonks gasped at the long-buried, more than half-forgotten memory that this recollection suddenly triggered. She recognised it, even at that moment, as one of those rare occasions where two things suddenly fit together unexpectedly, and you finally realised what something had meant.
*****
The rings on the doorbell that day were in a certain coded pattern that to the young Tonks meant simply 'Uncle Sirius is here'. Her mother, who had tensed slightly when the rings started, relaxed when she heard the sequence. Nonetheless, she still picked up her wand before she went to answer and tapped it on the mirror in the hallway. To Tonks' pleasure, a picture of Uncle Sirius standing alone in the porch appeared in it; he was whistling to himself and wearing his usual insouciant grin. Andromeda Tonks pointed her wand at the door, muttered a few incantations to lift the locking spells, and bundled her cousin into the house, quickly resetting the charms on the door. Then she turned to smile at him.
"Uncle Sirius!" The eleven year old Tonks ran to him in delight and he lifted her up and swung her around. "Morning, Dora!" he said mischievously. "How's my favourite little cousin then? Looking forward to learning how to be a proper witch, are you?"
"Yes! I'll get to do real spells and everything, and make loads of new friends, and ..."
"Don't suffocate him, Nymphadora," said her mother in an amused voice. "And I don't know how you get away with calling her that," she said to her cousin in exasperation. "She'd probably have a fit if anyone else did."
"Natural charm, Annie," said Uncle Sirius with a grin. "You don't mind me calling you Annie, do you?" he added with mock solicitousness.
"Yes, but that's never stopped you yet, has it?" She shook her head. "Honestly, Sirius, Ted's the only other person who dares to do that, and he's my husband."
He grinned evilly. "Well, if we'd followed the family traditions I could have been your husband. Ever think of that, eh?"
"Only in moments of extreme depression. Nothing personal, my darling, but I can say with all honesty that thank heavens you aren't. Anyway, you're a bit young for me, even as far as the Blacks are concerned, aren't you? I think I changed your nappies once." Her mother tried to hide a smile as Uncle Sirius looked mortified and Tonks laughed in delight.
"You women know how to leave a man heartbroken, don't you?" he said plaintively. "And I thought you were my nice cousin."
"Oh well, you'll know better next time, won't you?" She snorted, an unusual thing for her mother. "And I've watched your girls come and go, and I've yet to see anyone leave you heartbroken, Sirius Black. So don't bother trying to play sweet and innocent with me. We both know you're not the marrying kind."
"Of course not! Take all the fun out of life, wouldn't it." The grin on his face faded so rapidly that Tonks, looking up at him, was quite startled. "After all, we don't get so much of it these days, do we?"
"No. No, we don't," said her mother heavily, gesturing towards the lounge door to indicate that Sirius should go in and sit down. Tonks hung back, slightly upset by the sudden change in atmosphere. She knew it had to be something to do with the way the war with You-Know-Who was going, and she hoped fervently that Uncle Sirius wasn't in any danger. As the adults passed into the lounge, she heard him quietly mention that a couple of friends would be meeting him later on. Her mother's alarmed reaction to the news of unexpected visitors was calmed by a soothing murmur from her unc ... no, cousin. Oh whatever.
The adults were deep in serious and very dull-sounding conversation when Tonks came back into the room, so she simply ignored them and went off into a corner to play by herself. She didn't dare get out her new Gobstones set; her mother always said it made too much mess on the carpet, and needed far too many cleaning charms to get rid of the smell. So she found the small mirror from her little-used vanity case, and started experimenting with various ways of changing the shape of her nose. She was getting very good at mimicking other people now.
Absorbed in this pursuit, it wasn't until the talking abruptly stopped that the ringing of the doorbell registered in her mind. She instinctively headed towards the window to see who it was, but her mother quickly moved to grab her before she could get there, and then nodded to her cousin. He moved out into the hallway cautiously and tapped the mirror with his wand, then relaxed as he saw who was reflected in it.
"It's my friends," he said. "Look, I have to go, they've got the baby with them, of course. We can't hang around in the open for too long. Not nowadays, Annie. It's too dangerous."
Her mother looked disappointed, but nodded in resignation. "That makes sense. When will we see you again?"
Uncle Sirius looked at her with an expression that the young Tonks couldn't quite interpret. "I can't say, Annie," he said. "Things are a bit up in the air at the moment. Just ... just don't expect to see me round here too often, OK?"
As the grownups embraced, Tonks glanced in the mirror to see what Uncle Sirius' friends were like. Even at that age, it was immediately clear to her that they were all very much on edge. Nearest the road stood a dark-haired man; his brown eyes were constantly darting from side to side, as if he were searching the street for signs of a Snitch. Next to him a pretty red-haired woman was cradling a sleeping baby in her arms. A small man with mousy hair was standing behind them both. All of them were wearing worried looks.
"Dora! A goodbye kiss for your old cousin then." He picked her up and hugged her tightly, then looked at her with surprising intensity in his grey eyes. "Look, young lady ... if I don't see you again for a while, make sure you be a good girl for your mum and dad, eh? Enjoy yourself when you get to school, work hard, and don't do anything I wouldn't have done. That shouldn't restrict you too much." Tonks giggled happily as he gave her his usual laugh, the one that always sounded more like a bark, although she could see her mother rolling her eyes at what he'd said.
As he put her down, her mother nodded to the figures in the mirror. She had the beginnings of a tear in her eye. "You really care about them, Sirius, don't you." It wasn't a question.
"Yes I do, Annie," he said quietly. "We'd ... we'd all give our lives for each other, or the boy, without the slightest hesitation. And the way things are going, we might very well have to if we're not careful." He made a shushing gesture at her mother's look of alarm. "Don't worry about us, Annie. We can look after ourselves, you know that. I'll come to see you all as soon as I can. I promise."
Her mother removed the spells on the door to let him out, and Tonks saw his friends greet him with relief. Tonks watched them in the mirror as they picked up a couple of broomsticks from the bottom of the garden, looked around furtively to make sure that no-one could see them, then mounted. The mousy-haired man was sitting on the back of her cousin's broom; the other two carefully fitted the baby into some kind of harness, then gently climbed aboard themselves. She gasped as the black-haired man threw a silvery cloak over them all and they vanished from sight.
She stared into the mirror for a good ten minutes more, but saw no further sign of them. Eventually it dawned on her that they must have flown off while invisible, and she turned away in disappointment. She really hoped Uncle Sirius would visit again soon.
*****
Now that she thought of it, that last visit had to have been sometime in the summer of 1981. She'd never seen Uncle - no, her cousin - Sirius again. And now, after all these years, it had suddenly fallen into place for her exactly who those other visitors must have been. As soon as she realised, recalling what she knew had happened to them was almost automatic. All three adults dead from her cousin's treachery; the baby somehow surviving, no-one knew how.
And she still couldn't make that memory and that knowledge seem as if they fit together.
She could feel moisture in her eyes as she gazed unseeingly at her reflection in the mirror; then a tear or two trickling down her cheeks; then great, racking sobs as she slumped against her bedroom wall with her head in her hands and cried. She cried with the kind of intensity and incomprehension that comes only from the sudden, unexpected release of long-buried emotions.
It took a very long time - or at any rate what felt like a very long time - for the tears to subside. Then, with movements that were suddenly decisive, without needing or wanting to think about what she was doing any more, Tonks picked herself up, morphed away the puffiness and redness around her eyes, and Apparated out of the room.
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Date: 2005-06-25 09:36 am (UTC)Oh, and good luck with the viva!