The Journey of the Phoenix

-Chapter 7: Enough is not enough-

"He's not in his study, Albus."

Dumbledore looked up at the portrait of a silver-haired witch. "Thank you, Dilys." He then put the papers he was studying in a drawer and left his office, deep in thought.

Since Snape had found out that Draco Malfoy no longer trusted him, his behaviour had changed for the worse. The worst part of it was that he was constantly avoiding Dumbledore; he made sure to keep his distance during lunch or dinner, he spent most of his time away from his study or classroom - so as to avoid Dumbledore's requests for a meeting, without a doubt - and he wouldn't even send back a Patronus when Dumbledore sent him his. Dumbledore feared that the younger man, tired of waiting, now wanted to take matters into his own hands. Not that he didn't mean well; he had the best intentions possible, but his feelings were clouding his better judgement, and given the circumstances, Dumbledore was quite sure that no plan could have better results than the one he had come up with a few months ago.

The elder man arrived at the teachers' office. Horace Slughorn and Pomona Sprout were there, discussing an article on the side-effects of dittany they had read in the morning Prophet.

"...as happens with all antidotes, after all," Sprout was saying.

"You have a point there," Slughorn said. "Hello, Albus."

"Hello, Horace, Pomona. Did you happen to see Severus?"

"I did," Sprout provided. "He came to find me in the greenhouses earlier and asked me for some Xylanthemum extract. But I didn't have any Xylanthemums at all, so he went to look inside the Forest."

"What does he need the Xylanthemum extract for?" Slughorn wondered aloud.

"A potion for personal use, obviously," Sprout suggested.

"It is not very useful; it usually takes large quantities where a few drops of Chrysanthemum extract could have the exact same effects. I could have given him some of that, if he had asked me."

"I suggested it; but he wanted specifically Xylanthemum."

Slughorn looked very pensive for a minute. "The only potion I can think of where Xylanthemum works better than Chrysanthemum," he said eventually, "is the Provisional Paralysis Potion."

Sprout made a sound of amused disbelief. "Who would Severus want to paralyse? No, he probably has got some mild cold, and is looking for a softer active ingredient than Chrysanthemum."

Dumbledore followed the conversation silently. If Slughorn was right, then he had a very good idea of what Snape had in mind.

He thanked his colleagues and left the room, in search of Snape.

-----

It took Dumbledore fifteen minutes to find him. Eventually, he spotted his thin figure, his head bent down as he stared at a bush rather interestedly. In his right hand there was a large bunch of Xylanthemums.

"Who do you want to paralyse, Severus?" he asked as he approached.

Snape looked up. "You know very well, Professor."

"Is this your idea of taking care of him?"

"Enough with taking care of him!" Snape exploded. "I shall stop him."

"No, Severus, you will not," Dumbledore said calmly. "You and I have made a deal that still stands. I can take care of myself for as long as it's necessary. You, first of all, have to protect him and yourself."

"You take too much for granted, Professor," Snape spat. "Maybe I don't want to do it anymore!"

"You agreed to do it -"

"I changed my mind!"

"You agreed to do it," Dumbledore repeated, his voice firm, "and that is all there is to it."

Snape glared at the elder man, but did not respond.

"On another note," Dumbledore moved on, "I would like to remind you that the culprit for the necklace incident has not officially been discovered yet, and as a result you are supposed to make some more investigations in your House."

"But there's no need -"

"Of course there is." His tone was very stern. "We cannot afford to raise any suspicions."

Snape remained silent again. The elder man's gaze was resting upon him as if fixing him in place. For a minute, nothing could be heard except for the rustle of the wind through the leaves.

Dumbledore's expression seemed to soften a little as he spoke again.

"Do you remember when you first joined me? You wanted to take an Unbreakable Vow that you would always stay by my side and follow my command."

"I remember."

"I said that all I wanted was your word. And you gave it to me. Is that correct?"

"It is."

"Do you wish to take it back now?"

Snape swallowed audibly. "No, Professor."

Dumbledore's light blue eyes twinkled momentarily, and his lips curled in a faint smile. "I am glad."

He turned around and headed back to the castle. Snape stared at his hand for a moment, then dropped the Xylanthemums he had gathered and followed him.

-----

The rest of the winter passed without any unpleasant surprises for Dumbledore. He had been quite busy attempting to locate more of Voldemort's Horcruxes and having the occasional meetings with Harry. Harry had understood the importance of studying Voldemort's life - or, at least, trusted Dumbledore when he talked of its importance - in the effort to bring him down, which was very encouraging. However, since he had overheard Snape's and Draco's talk before Christmas, he also seemed rather interested in finding out what they were up to, not to mention that his old suspicions towards Snape resurfaced. Dumbledore had tried to be understanding; admittedly, Snape had a blameworthy past, and his relations with Harry were far from ideal.

Sometimes, Dumbledore wished he could explain to Harry - or anyone else, for that matter - the reasons why he trusted Snape. But Snape felt deeply ashamed of being responsible for the death of the man he owed his life to, and he had almost pleaded with Dumbledore to keep it a secret. As for his failed attempt to murder Voldemort, it had remained a secret so far and should remain such the longest possible; whoever was to hold that information would be in great peril. As long as he was around and people trusted his judgement, he would be the only one to know.

-----

It was early in the afternoon. Feeble sunrays passed through the cave's entrance, falling upon the curled bodies of the people sleeping on the floor.

In one corner, though, somebody was not sleeping. Remus was awake, absently gazing around the room and thinking about those people. His equals.

He would never be able to feel in harmony with them. Because a part of the wizarding world resented them, they were willingly exiling all human nature from inside them and trying to reduce themselves to the point of living and behaving like animals. Even worse - they were now trying to force more people into enduring the pain of lycanthropy, as if to punish them for being so narrow-minded.

Some were victims of Fenrir Greyback's brainwashing - but for the most part, they knew exactly what they were doing.

To a certain degree, he could sympathise - after all, he had felt on his own flesh the rejection some people held for whom they considered 'half-breeds'. Yet, it was very unfair to generalise, when there were so many people who treated the werewolves with respect and kindness. There had always been people willing to give him a chance: Albus Dumbledore. James, Sirius and - it hurt to put this name near the other two - Peter. Mrs Nerrince, his landlady since he sold his parents' house - how many times had she had to wait for months, until he could find another job and pay the rent? Alastor Moody, always friendly to him despite his habit of being distrustful to the point of paranoia. Harry. The Weasleys.

Her.

He took a piece of parchment out of his pocket, unfolded it and read it for what ought to be the millionth time. The words seemed to be leaping out to him.

'...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?...'

That letter had been his comfort for months. Every time Greyback and his gang made speeches about why wizards should pay for being discriminative, urging everybody to banish all human emotions from inside them because 'it's a cruel, hateful world, and only those ruthless enough have the strength to fight for survival', he took out the letter to read it and remind himself why he had never wanted or needed to join the werewolves' community. Remind himself that the world was not as hateful as the others thought. That, somewhere out there, there were people who accepted him for what he was.

And yet, he hadn't replied. There was nothing more he could say, when she so stubbornly refused to see reason. That letter was pure Tonks, written with the spontaneity and passion that always described her. He could hear her in his mind shouting these words to him, defending that strange fancy she had taken on him as if it was the deepest love imaginable.

No doubt that, to her, it was. Not because she was shallow or silly. She was simply... young. Inexperienced in the matters of the heart. She didn't know the difference between friendship, lust and love.

But Remus did. And although he couldn't tell what exactly it was she was feeling, he knew for sure it wasn't love. He was incapable of inspiring love to anyone, especially to someone like her. They simply didn't... fit together. His time had come and gone; her time was now, and she had all the opportunities life could provide her with. She wouldn't throw them away for his sake, for someone who had a problem that could put everyone near him in danger. And even if she wanted to do it, he wouldn't let her. If there had been times when he hadn't been alone in the past, it was because the people around him had a means of protection. There was no way he would inflict his presence upon people who were defenseless or, worse still, depended on him in any way.

Especially not on her. He wouldn't risk hurting her for anything in the world.

He loved her too much to do it.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he folded the letter and put it back in his pocket.

-----

One of the following nights, Tonks was on duty alongside Savage. They patrolled around the school together, on their broomsticks. Everything was very quiet.

"Did you hear about the attacks in Wales?" Savage asked at some point.

"No, I didn't," Tonks said, her interest piqued. Wales... Remus was there... "What happened?"

"Brand new developments. Haven't made it to the Prophet yet." He lowered his voice, as if trying to make it sound mysterious. "During the past full moon, a number of little children were attacked by werewolves. Rumour has it that it was meant to threaten their parents into turning to the Dark Side. You know that Fenrir Greyback is one of Voldemort's biggest supporters."

Tonks felt a chill creeping through her body.

"Are you OK?" he asked her.

"Yeah," she said unconvincingly. Remus would never attack humans - he'd rather die than have more people suffer what he suffered. He'd do anything in his power to stop these attacks; but what a great danger he'd put himself into, if he objected to following the other werewolves - it wasn't just Greyback, most of the werewolves were supporting Voldemort... And, come to think of it, when he transformed he had no awareness of what he was doing... What if the wolf in him was tempted to taste human flesh?

Her head started spinning. There was only one thing to do: contact Dumbledore.

Or maybe get in touch with Remus directly?

No. They hadn't talked since, technically, last year, and she still had some dignity left. When her shift was over, she'd try to get in touch with Dumbledore. That was it.

-----

Once she was back home, at around ten in the morning, she pulled out her wand to send her Patronus to Dumbledore. When she performed the spell, though, only a faint silver cloud came out.

Weird, she thought. She had never had problems with the Patronus Charm. She tried again. The cloud came out even fainter.

She concentrated harder. A happy memory, she said to herself. The day I got my Auror's licence.

The silver cloud came out again. Tonks exhaled heavily and closed her eyes. Remus's face was floating in her head. It was all his fault, again. He kept her mind so worried that her Patronus couldn't find any positive feelings to step on and come out.

She concentrated harder and tried again and again. Eventually, after several failed attempts, she decided to just go to Hogwarts and find Dumbledore.

-----

Apparently, though, it wasn't her lucky day. He wasn't in his office. Tonks decided to take a stroll around the castle, in case he was somewhere around there, when she bumped into...

"Harry?"

She saw him suddenly appear, obviously just having dropped his Invisibility cloak, hopping for a moment on one leg and then collapsing on the floor.

"What're you doing here?" he said, scrambling to his feet again.

"I came to see Dumbledore."

"His office isn't here, it's round the other side of the castle, behind the gargoyle -"

"I know. He's not there. Apparently he's gone away again."

"Has he?" he said, putting his bruised foot gingerly back on the floor. "Hey -- you don't know where he goes, I suppose?"

"No."

"What did you want to see him about?"

Unconsciously, she started picking at the sleeve of her robe. "Nothing in particular. I just thought he might know what's going on. I've heard rumours... people getting hurt."

"Yeah, I know, it's all been in the papers," Harry was saying now. "That little kid trying to kill his -"

"The Prophet's often behind the times," Tonks said, deep in thought, barely paying attention. "You haven't had any letters from anyone in the Order recently?"

She didn't want to ask directly about Remus, but if anyone sent letters to Harry, it was bound to be him. He loved this boy - he was his best friend's son, after all, and they all said how much Harry took after James, and Remus missed James a lot...

She felt her eyes filling with tears at the thought of Remus. I'm hopeless.

Suddenly, she became aware of Harry's awkward look and realised she had missed his answer.

"What?" she said blankly, as she tried to call to mind what he had said while she had been brooding. Not much had registered, but at least she was quite sure that he had said he had received no letters. "Well. I'll see you around, Harry."

And she turned abruptly and walked back down the corridor, leaving Harry to stare after her.

-----

She returned to her flat frustrated to no end, on the verge of crying. First thing she did was go to the bathroom and splash some cold water on her face. Then, leaning on the sink, she closed her eyes and took some deep breaths, in an attempt to compose herself.

She opened her eyes again. Her picture was staring back at her from the mirror; a red-eyed, unhealthily scrawny face, gracelessly framed by mousy brown hair.

"Look at you," the mirror reprimanded her. "You look horrible."

"Thank you," she spat and looked away. Her gaze travelled through the open bathroom door and fell on the fireplace. She rarely used it as a means of communication, because it required Floo Powder to work, and she was notorious about her inability to use Floo Powder correctly - as in, store it somewhere and remember where afterwards, or throw it in the fireplace without spilling half of the dosage on the carpet. However, since she was unable to produce a Patronus, she was willing to take what she could get.

She went through all the bathroom cabinets, but there was nothing there apart from healing ointments and therapeutic potions. She cursed loudly at knocking over a large container, which was filled with a red, liquid analgesic that left blood-like stains on the rug, and after a quick Cleaning Spell that did little to clean the stains, she continued her search in the kitchen.

Finally, after bringing the flat to a state of complete disorder, she discovered a small bottle of Floo Powder in the bottom drawer of the nightstand. She grasped it and walked very carefully to the fireplace, kneeling in front of it. Then, she used her wand to light a fire and proceeded with throwing a pinch of Floo Powder in.

"Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place!" she called and put her head inside the now emerald-green fire. It whirled and spun until she found herself staring at the Headquarters' empty kitchen. "Hello? Anybody here?"

Nobody appeared. Tonks made a discontented face at the thought that the first time she used Floo Powder correctly was to visit an empty house. Then, she drew her head out of the fireplace and tried again, this time her destination being the Burrow.

"Molly? Arthur? Anyone?" she called, once there.

Footsteps were heard and Bill entered the room. "Who's here?"

"Bill! It's me, Tonks!"

Bill walked to the fireplace and knelt down. "Tonks? What brings you here? Is there something wrong?" He looked at her closely. "You don't look very well."

She sighed. Last thing she needed now was to be reminded of her lousy physical - and emotional -state. "I'm just worried; I heard there were werewolf attacks during the past full moon."

"Oh, you mean the Wales incidents," Bill said, his face darkening. "That was bad. I went there with Dumbledore and Elphias Doge, but we couldn't contain all the werewolves. A couple of kids got bitten, and one was killed."

"Who was it? Greyback?"

"Him, and a few others. Remus gave their names to Dumbledore."

Tonks paused for a minute, then spoke again. "How is he?"

"Remus? Don't worry about him," Bill said - a little too knowingly, she thought. "He's fine. Passing on loads of useful information."

"Not having problems with the other werewolves? They aren't forcing him to attack humans?" she asked, unable to completely hide all emotion from her voice.

"Nah," Bill said, shaking his head. "He's not needed. There are many more volunteers than Voldemort needs to carry out his plans."

"Oh," she said simply, very relieved now.

"And how're you doing?" Bill asked.

"Fine," she said casually.

"Are you sure?"

Tonks grimaced as a comment Molly had made some time ago sprang in the back of her mind: 'One can read the word 'RESIGNATION' all over your face.'

"Yeah, I'm sure," she said. "Well, I have to go now... I just finished my shift and I need to get some sleep."

He nodded. "All right. I'll see you around."

"Bye."

-End of chapter 7-