The Journey of the Phoenix

-Chapter 6: Hide and seek-

By October, life for the Order members had become quite hectic. Most of them had trouble balancing their jobs with working for the Order, so Dumbledore was forced to assign most of the time-consuming tasks out to the three unemployed members: Molly Weasley, Mundungus Fletcher and Alastor Moody.

Number twelve, Grimmauld Place, had returned to its previous status as the Order headquarters, although there were scarcely any meetings anymore. The paperwork, however, had returned to being stored there. So, every Friday, the three of them gathered there: Molly to do the weekly cleaning, while Moody and Mundungus were filling out the Members Schedule. This had been one of Dumbledore's brightest ideas: All the members sent to Moody and Mundungus their working schedules for the following week. Then, these two composed a timetable that stated who was free at each time of the week and shared copies of it out to everyone. This way, if anyone found themselves in an emergency situation and needed backup, they would know who to contact.

"Tonks is patrolling Hogsmeade this week, day shift, ten to ten," Mundungus said, consulting her letter. "No day off."

"Whoever is planning that team's shifts is a moron," Moody growled and started filling out the timetable.

"Almost done already," Molly commented as she entered the kitchen, a dirty cloth in her hands. "I swear, Mundungus, there's less and less to dust each week."

He looked at her, feigning surprise.

"Don't give me that look," she warned. "I'm not stupid."

"My dear Molly -"

"Shut it, Dung, and get back to work," Moody interrupted him. "Who's next?"

"Ah." He grabbed another letter. "Bill Weasley. Nine to five day shifts at Gringotts from Monday to Friday, Saturday off..."

"Not so fast!"

Mundungus recoiled. He reached inside his coat and caressed the bronze photo frame he had nicked on entering the house. Another fine piece for his growing... collection.

It was high time for a trip to Alton's Antiquities at Hogsmeade. Maybe tomorrow.

-----

Saturday came. Most of Hogwarts' students were at Hogsmeade, so the teachers were in for a quiet morning.

Snape was in his study, correcting some essays, when someone knocked on the door.

"Come in," he called.

It was Argus Filch. "Sir, Professor McGonagall asked me to bring you this. Be careful not to touch it." He approached and put a package wrapped inside a scarf on the desk.

Snape unwrapped the package and held his breath. Carelessly enveloped in brown, drenched paper, was an ornate opal necklace.

"How did this get in here?" he demanded, his eyes flashing.

"I don't know, sir, it was Potter and his friends, they gave it to Professor McGonagall -"

"Go tell her I want to see her. Now!"

Filch ran outside the door to get her, while Snape examined the necklace. It was infamous for the powerful curse that had been put upon it ages ago. Barely touching it was enough to make one suffer a terribly painful death. What could it be doing in here? And in Potter's hands, even? Surely he hadn't been the one to purchase it. Could he have found it somewhere in Hogsmeade...?

"Severus," McGonagall said, hurrying in the room, "a girl touched that necklace."

Snape looked up. "Who?"

"Katie Bell. Hagrid took her to the hospital wing. Do you know how to reverse the curse?"

"I can try."

The two teachers headed together towards the hospital wing with big, hasty steps.

"What exactly happened?" Snape asked, on their way there.

"Somebody gave it to her, probably after Imperiusing her first. She was asked to deliver it to somebody here in the castle, but we don't know to whom."

"Filch mentioned Potter and his friends..."

"Yes, they saw what happened and brought me the necklace."

"I cannot remember one time something weird happened and Potter was not around," he said, annoyed.

"Severus, don't be unfair to the boy."

Snape did not reply. They reached the hospital wing. Katie was lying on a bed, thrashing and wailing in agony. Madam Pomfrey was near the next bed, with Leanne Merkle, who was trembling in shock. He approached Katie, firmly grabbed her left hand and examined it. It looked perfectly fine.

Afterwards, he reached for her right hand. She was wearing a purple glove he hastily pulled off. And there, at the tip of her index finger, he saw a strange red mark, around of which the skin looked infected. He snatched the glove and examined it; it had a tiny hole exactly at that point where the mark was.

He turned to McGonagall. "Professor, do you know what exactly happened when the girl touched the necklace?"

"She rose up in the air, began screaming and then collapsed," she repeated the information she had got from Harry.

Snape gave a curt nod and turned to the suffering girl. Holding her hand tightly, because she was struggling to get away from his grip, he pulled out his wand, placed its tip gently on the mark and started murmuring an incantation.

Katie started relaxing gradually. Finally, she sank into a deep, coma-like sleep.

Snape turned to McGonagall. "She has to go to St Mungo's."

"I'll take care of it," McGonagall said.

Without another word, he left the hospital wing. A cursed necklace had just reached a student's hands with orders to be delivered to somebody who very conveniently remained unnamed, and Snape had more than a very good idea about who was behind it.

He went to the Slytherin common room. Several first and second years were sitting there, enjoying the warmth of the fire.

"Has anyone seen Malfoy?" he asked loudly.

"He came back a while ago and wait straight to the dormitory," a black-haired girl said. "He looked very tired."

Snape frowned. "Tell him I want to see him in my office as soon as he's up," he ordered and left.

-----

Ιt had been almost five months since her discussion with Tonks. Molly had been keeping an eye on her and Remus, but soon realised the situation between them wasn't getting any better and decided she needed to talk to him. She had not proceeded with it yet, partly because she had wanted to give him some time and partly because she had only seen him a couple of times since then. Now Christmas was approaching, though, and she decided it was about time. First time she'd see him, she'd discuss it with him.

Remus eventually visited the Burrow one morning in mid-December. Only Molly was there to welcome him.

"Remus, it has been so long! How have you been?"

"All right," he said and sank in a chair. His robe was tattered and he looked drained. "It was full moon last night."

"You poor thing," Molly said sympathetically. "You should take some rest."

"You know how it works," he said, "I can't sleep until night falls again."

"I'll make you something to eat," she said, opening the fridge. "And, for Merlin's sake, take one of Arthur's robes!" She pointed at a pile of freshly-ironed clothes, which was resting on a chair in the corner of the room. "Yours is a rag."

"No, Molly, really -"

Molly shot him a stern look and cast a spell at his robe. The holes patched up quite elegantly and the trimmed edges sewed themselves. She then closed the fridge and placed everything she had retrieved from it on a counter.

"...Thanks," he said. "You're better at that than me."

"I've raised seven children," she reminded him. "Speaking of which, don't you think you should start thinking about having children yourself?"

"As if there aren't enough werewolves already." His voice was bitter.

"You were not born a werewolf, Remus, chances are good that your children will be healthy."

"They will be born healthy, and then I'll bite them -"

"Don't be ridiculous. You can't deny yourself the joy of having a family just because of fear."

"It's not fear, Molly," he protested, "it's good sense. I don't want more people to suffer the pain of being a werewolf. Besides, I don't have the money to raise children, and, let's face it, I'm too old to get involved in romances."

"Tonks didn't buy this nonsense and nor will I," Molly said coldly, without looking up.

Remus, dumbfounded, turned to look at her, but he could only see her back.

"You know?"

Molly finished preparing a sandwich, put it on a plate with the other three she had already made and served Remus. "I've known for months." She sat beside him.

Speechless, Remus grabbed one of the sandwiches and began eating.

"You should talk to her," Molly said, some minutes later.

Remus swallowed hastily. "We've talked, but she doesn't understand."

"Then try again. Do you have any idea what she's been like since your last conversation?"

He hesitated. "I heard she's not doing very well..."

"She's been miserable."

He sighed. His gaze fell on the plate.

"I don't want to hurt her," he said softly. "I care about her. And that's why I'm not letting her waste her life over a wrong choice."

His feelings for her were written all over his face. Molly put a compassionate hand on his shoulder.

"You are not a wrong choice. You're the best choice she could make."

He summoned a napkin and wiped some mustard that had dripped on his sleeve. "I am the worst choice she could make, and I've already explained why." He breathed heavily. "Let's just drop this subject, shall we?"

She shook her head dismally, but respected his wish nonetheless. "All right. So, what are you planning for Christmas?"

He frowned. "If Dumbledore agrees, I'll give myself a holiday break."

"Having a hard time with the werewolves?"

He winced. "Well, let's just say that their idea of holiday festivities is not exactly my thing."

She smiled understandingly. "I'm sure Albus won't mind giving you some time off. And you could come spend it here with us," she suggested.

He smiled, and suddenly looked much younger than his thirty-seven years. "That sounds great."

-----

Albus Dumbledore took pride in being a patient man. A very patient man indeed.

But Rufus Scrimgeour's letters had the power to infuriate him.

Dumbledore had repeatedly stated that he, as the Hogwarts Headmaster, was never going to allow Harry Potter to express explicit support to the Ministry after the past school year's events. He had also clarified his conviction that, even if he was to allow such a thing, Harry Potter himself would refuse to cooperate. And still, there was Scrimgeour, after six whole months in the office, still insisting on a futile effort that had been started by his predecessor.

He had replied to the first few letters, back in July. Afterwards, when the polite, formal letters turned to an odd combination of pleas and threats, he started sparing himself the effort. He kept reading them, just in case they contained something worthwhile, but he had not seen an original argument in months.

One of these letters was now open in his hands. He mulled for a while over how some people have trouble grasping perfectly simple concepts - like the meaning of the word 'no' - and thrust it in a drawer. At that moment, the door creaked open.

"Professor," Snape said, relieved. "I hoped you'd be still awake. Can I talk to you?"

"Of course, Severus," he replied, gesturing to a chair.

Snape walked in, closed the door behind him and sat down. "I managed to talk to Draco."

Dumbledore eased down a little, hearing the good news. Draco had been avoiding Snape ever since the necklace incident - probably because he was involved in it. Although, unlike Snape, Dumbledore was of the opinion that they should not pressure Draco, he knew that time was running out on them and was constantly feeling under great pressure himself.

"So, what did he tell you?" he asked.

Snape's face darkened. "Not much. He doesn't trust me anymore; he thinks I want to steal his glory." He paused for a second, then continued. "He denied he had anything to do with the necklace, but I tried to use Legilimency on him and he blocked me. He said he has a plan but refused to tell me what it is. And he said he has people by his side," he added. "Death Eaters, I assume."

Dumbledore contemplated the news for a while, then spoke calmly. "His not trusting you is very disturbing. You will have to try to gain his trust again. In the meantime... we must be very cautious. There is little time left."

-----

Tonks's gaze wandered around the room, momentarily resting on the calendar - 28 December... wasn't this year ever going to end? - and then on the Christmas cards she had received, carelessly piled on the small table.

There was plenty of them - from her parents, from Molly and Arthur, from the twins, from Dumbledore, from Harry... even the typical card the Ministry sent to all its employees. She didn't care, though; she only cared about the one card she hadn't received.

Of course. He hadn't spoken to her in six months, why would he bother now? Tonks felt stupid for actually sending him a card. Stupid, and... weak.

When had she been so dependent on anyone? During her whole life, she had been a free spirit, counting on her own power and acting on instinct, her name a synonym of cheer and optimism. And here she was now, spending her Christmas break brooding in this tiny, depressing flat the Ministry was renting for her while she was stationed at Hogsmeade. All alone.

A rapping noise was heard from outside. Tonks assumed she hadn't secured well the shutters and they were pounding with the wind. However, once she had opened them, she realised it had been an owl knocking.

It had a letter for her. She retrieved it and let it go, closing the shutters behind it. Then, she sat on the bed and opened the letter.

It was from him.

Dear Tonks,

First of all, thank you for the nice card. It was very thoughtful of you. I feel guilty for not having sent one, too; I blame it on my cowardice.

I hope you are having a nice holiday. I am at the Burrow. Everything is fine, except for the fact that Molly has been constantly pestering me. She says that you and I need to talk. And, to be honest, I just came to realise that she is right.

This is why I am sending you this letter. As I said, I am a coward; I could never find the courage to face you again for a talk. But maybe it will be easier in a letter.

So... well. I am not sure about what I must say. I am confused. No, scratch that. I was confused. Now I am not, I am only... scared. I found myself in a position where I never wanted to be, and I am afraid that telling you would be the wrong thing to do.

I am probably making no sense at all. So I will just gather the little amount of courage I have left and tell you everything straightaway.

I am in love with you. I do not know how it happened or when it started, but I have reached a point where I can no longer deny it. Of course, I doubt I will ever tell anyone else (except Molly, who I think guessed it from the beginning).

On the other hand, I insist on what I have told you. We cannot be together, much as it breaks my heart. You cannot deny that my arguments are based entirely on reason.

Think, and reply truthfully to yourself: Would you like to live dressed in rags in an underground flat - which is all I can afford? Would you like your husband to be a werewolf, fourteen years older than you, whose only occupation is mingling with other werewolves - who, incidentally, happen to be followers of Voldemort? Would you like to give birth to children that would be forced to live in poverty and be pointed at with the finger because they are 'the kids of that werewolf'? I believe you will find you would not. I know I do not want this life for you. You deserve much more than that.

So... now you understand why I am staying away. It really is painful to me, too. But distance and time can heal. I believe that someday we will be able to put all this behind us and move on.

You need not reply to this letter; I understand it is quite awkward. I just thought I ought to explain my reasoning fully to you.

Have a Happy New Year.

Remus.

Tonks stared at the letter in astonishment. He wasn't saying... he wasn't suggesting... NO!

She crumpled the letter in her hand and threw it towards the door. Stupid, stupid man! Why did he have to be so stupid? Ruining both their lives because of... reason! And what kind of reason was that, anyway? Dumbledore always said there's nothing stronger than love. She loved him. And he loved her, too! Shouldn't that be enough?

Fuming, she found a piece of parchment, a quill and ink and started writing.

Remus,

You asked me three questions. I'm answering:

Yes, yes, and YES! Damn it, why are you being so stupid? I could never blame you for not loving me back, but if what you wrote in that letter is true, I swear it's making me want to come over and bang your EMPTY head against the wall. You've already given me your reasons and I've said I DON'T CARE about ANYTHING on that list. My Patronus, the creature I conjure when I need protection, is a WOLF, doesn't that give you any hints on who makes me feel safe, who I want beside me? Also: Very sneaky of you to be using the children I might have as a weapon, but you can be sure that if I ever have any, I'll teach them NOT to let themselves be affected by prejudices.

Incidentally, I have a job, a salary and a second-floor flat with a big, full wardrobe in London, not to mention a house in Liverpool where I'm sure my parents would welcome us. Not that I mind the rags and the underground flat, but I just thought I'd mention.

You can have the Happy New Year I know I won't be having.

Tonks.

She read over what she had just written and burst into tears. When her eyes ran dry, all her anger had vanished and only the bitter pain in the heart remained.

She looked at the parchment. It was messed up and practically illegible with all the tears that had spoiled it. She cast a spell and it cleaned up.

For a moment, she stared at it thoughtfully. Finally, she got up, took it and left for the post office.

-End of chapter 6-