Fame Isn\\\'t Everything

Chapter 3 ~ Rebirth

Militia Leader and Wizarding Hero Jack Barnes Missing!

The wizarding world was stunned this morning by the shock announcement that hero Jack Barnes (31) was missing. Ministry officials reluctantly confirm that he vanished from his office, apparently following a fierce struggle, which may have left him injured, as blood was found at the scene which Mediwizards later confirmed was his. However, there has been no ransom demand, although Ministry officials admit they believe that Mr. Barnes is still alive.

"Come on," says Mr. Arnold Petrillo, Department of Legality. "The man defeated Voldemort. No ordinary wizard would be able to get the better of him."

The Daily Prophet can now exclusively reveal that a suspect has already been arrested. Virginia Weasley (24), whose background shows a history with the group of Voldemort supporters known as Death Eaters, has been removed to an undisclosed location. Ministry officials refuse to give any further details.

"Miss Weasley has simply been taken in for questioning," claims Minister of Magic, Percy Weasley (no relation). "We are all distraught by Jack's disappearance, but we have no reason to suspect Miss Weasley is involved."

"Then why has she been taken into custody?" argues Diviner Times photographer Colin Creevey in a fireplace interview. "This is ridiculous. Ginny Weasley wouldn't hurt anyone."

However, Weasley is well known for working with a group who failed to defeat Voldemort seven years ago, and evidently harbours some resentment towards Jack Barnes. Miss Weasley had no comment for the Prophet. Ministry officials refuse to confirm when or if she will be released, and no member of her family has been available for interview.

Draco Malfoy smiled as he finished reading the article. It was turning out to be such a lovely day.

He folded back the paper, and then went to the door.

"Here you go, stumpy," he sneered. The Militia man took it from him and tossed it into a pile. "Now how about letting me out of here?"

Another woman with the same insignia on her robes approached and whispered something in the man's ear. He nodded, took out his wand, and opened the door.

Malfoy strutted out, held out his hand for his wand, and upon receiving it, left the Militia compound a free man.

~~~

He limped down the hallway, every moment cursing the curse that had put him in this decrepit state. Arriving at cell twelve, Remus Lupin showed his identification to the guard and was permitted to enter.

He set eyes upon Ginny Weasley for the first time in seven years.

She looked terribly pale and drawn. There were heavy lines around her mouth and dark circles under her eyes. Her shoulders were stooped and heavy. She sat on a lumpy mattress, staring off into space. At the sound of his footsteps, she turned to look at him.

Remus was unsure why he had come. He harboured no ill will towards Ginny Weasley, but he was still not pleased about the reunion, especially the terms in which it had been arranged. She had nerve; upon seeing the phoenix symbol he had nearly had a heart attack.

"Ginny?" he said gently.

"You came," she said in a dull tone. "I didn't expect you to, to be honest."

"You put it in terms I couldn't refuse," Remus replied wryly. "A rather dirty trick, you know."

"I know." Ginny ran her fingers through her unwashed hair. "And now you're going to have to do it to the others."

"What?"

"How is Dad? Is he all right?"

"He's fine, concerned about you, of course. What is this about?"

Ginny stood up and went to him, holding out her hands in supplication. "I didn't do it, Remus! I swear I didn't. How could I have? It doesn't make sense. I was at home yesterday, I was!"

"Ginny," Remus said calmly, leading her back to the cot where they both sat down, "calm down. You have to admit there's evidence against you. Your father didn't see you come home yesterday. You could have easily returned to the Burrow after kidnapping Barnes. You have a history and a great dislike of him. But," he continued when Ginny made as if to interrupt, "I believe you. I don't personally think you're capable of something like this."

"Thank you," she said quietly. "Fortunately it's all circumstantial evidence. They shouldn't be able to convict me. Oh, but, Remus, no one will ever trust me again!"

He offered her a handkerchief which she used to blow her nose. "Ginny, why did you contact me?"

"Because I trust you," Ginny said, returning the handkerchief. "And because I need a favour."

"I thought there was a catch somewhere." Remus shook his head. "I don't owe you anything, Ginny. If I was your last throw, then I'm sorry, but you wasted it. The Order is no more, I'm retired and of no help to anyone. These past seven years haven't been easy for any of us, myself included. I just want peace and quiet."

Ginny fell silent for many moments, appearing to consider his subtle plea. Then she whispered, "I'm sorry. But we made a pact. You have to help me re-form the Order of the Phoenix."

Looking quickly over his shoulder to make sure the guard wasn't listening, Remus hissed, "Have you lost your mind? Don't you remember how we parted seven years ago? What makes you think any of them would come back? I can't do that."

"They'll come back," Ginny said resolutely, wishing she felt more sure of herself. "Because we promised that if one of us was ever in need, we'd be there. And because I'm offering them a chance to reclaim the spotlight. Don't delude yourself, Remus, that's what most of them are after. If they come back, they'll be remembered as the wizards and witches who saved beloved hero Jack Barnes. And they'll save me."

Remus shook his head. "I really think you've lost your mind, Ginny."

"Remus, I didn't do it! And I have to prove it. What about Barnes? If we could just find him, all the problems would go away, plus we'd be heroes again!"

Standing, Remus began to pace. He seemed to struggle with himself, but eventually he said, "Okay, let's take this from the beginning. Tell me exactly what you did yesterday."

She took a deep breath. "I was at home with Dad in the morning and then decided to pop over to Diagon Alley. I wandered around, and ran into an old friend. We had drinks and I got a bit sloshed because...well, we were talking about the divorce. Then I Flooed home because I was worried about Splinching myself. I arrived home, was sick, and then crawled into bed and slept until nearly noon. When I woke up there were Militia pounding at the door."

Remembering something suddenly, she said, "Oh! And I ran into Draco Malfoy in Flourish and Blotts!" Her face grew ugly with anger. "That conniving little worm, he's responsible for this! He practically threatened me, he framed me!"

But Remus was slowly shaking his head again. "That's impossible, Ginny."

"No, it's not," she insisted. "He's here in London. I know he was in Albania or some such place, but he's back, and he's out for revenge. He must have been involved."

"No, I mean it's impossible because he was in prison last night." He showed her a copy of the afternoon Prophet. Her own picture was plastered across the front, scowling, next to a grinning Jack Barnes. But that wasn't what Remus was pointing to. In a much smaller article inside there was a column about--what else?--the kidnapping. Only it didn't have anything to do with Ginny.

'Notorious Voldemort-supporter Draco Malfoy (25), suspected of involvement in the Jack Barnes disappearance, was cleared of all charges as he spent the entirety of last night in a prison cell on a charge of lewd conduct.'

Ginny let out a string of epithets that caused Remus to gape at her.

"This is a set up, don't you see?" Ginny was near tears. "He planned it all, it's part of his revenge. He'll bribe the Wizengamot, I'll be sent to Azkaban."

"Or worse," Remus muttered. He did find it odd that Malfoy, who would of course be a top suspect, had a perfect alibi--especially as he wasn't supposed to be in London at all. How did he just happen to find himself in a holding cell in the Militia compound when he was last seen in Calcutta? "Ginny, what do you expect me to do?

Lifting her head, he could see the pain in her eyes. She held his gaze for several moments and then dropped it.

"I expect you to owl them," she said softly. "They'll listen to you. They have to come here, we have to find Jack Barnes. Start with Professor McGonagall. She'll contact those at Hogwarts. You'll have to get to those abroad. Send them the symbol, they can't avoid that." She hesitated for a minute. "Do you hate me?"

"What?" Remus was startled by the question. "No, of course not. Ginny, I know you blame yourself for what happened, but--"

Ginny cut him off. "Neither Mum nor Dumbledore would have died if it weren't for me. I know that. I've been struggling with it for seven years. You think it doesn't eat me up inside? My entire family disowned me, except Dad, and he had the most reason to. I have enough guilt. I won't take on more for something I didn't do. I know they won't want to come, especially for me, but they will. For Dumbledore."

To his surprise, Remus found that he had tears in his eyes. "They won't like it one bit, Ginny. They're still full of pain and anger. They'll resent you for bringing them back. Are you sure you want to do this? Do you really need allies who trust neither each other nor you?"

"I don't have a choice," she whispered. "I can't do this alone."

She turned her back to him, her shoulders shaking. "Send them the phoenix. I'll deal with the consequences."

Remus left the cell, flinching at the sound of the steel door as it slammed shut and was magically sealed. He started to leave the Ministry of Magic, but changed his mind and instead strode towards the Minister's office. A blonde woman with short curly hair was chomping on some chewing gum at a desk outside the room in question. Several other people were seated at chairs with small tables attached, bent over what appeared to be some sort of form.

"I'd like to see the Minister," Remus said calmly.

"You and everyone else, mister," the girl replied in a bored tone accompanied by a short mocking laugh. "You'll have to fill out the paperwork in triplicate."

She indicated toward a stack of papers a metre high and resumed her crossword puzzle. Remus sighed.

"I only need to see him for a minute."

"Is he expecting you?" She eyed his shabby robes in obvious distaste.

"No, not precisely, but--"

"Then you're not getting in. Understand?"

Preparing to leave, Remus stopped as he heard Percy Weasley's voice echo in the hallway. He seemed to be talking to someone else.

"And tell the bloody Bulgarians that I will not allow them to start exporting those damned compacted expelliarmus bombs to Britain!" Hastily he added, "Don't quote me on that."

"Yes, Minister." A rather pretty girl, looking as though she had just left Hogwarts, entered the office. Percy followed closely behind, muttering to himself and rifling through papers. He stopped suddenly when he caught sight of Remus.

"What do you want?" he snapped. Percy Weasley was clearly on the edge of sanity. Remus almost wished it was a full moon. Almost.

"A chat between old comrades," Remus said pleasantly.

"I don't have time. Make an appointment." He was acting positively trollish. Knowing that he had once been a smart boy with a bright future, Remus regretted the loss. The Percy he was acquainted with today merely made him hungry.

"I was just visiting your sister," he said cheerfully, aware of the reaction to those words.

There was pure silence in the hallway; the receptionist had even stopped chewing.

Eventually, Percy said, "You must be mistaken. I don't have a sister."

"Of course you do. Ginny Weasley? You have her locked up for a crime she didn't commit?"

Hushed whispers broke out among the witches and wizards waiting to see the Minister. Percy himself had turned an interesting shade of mauve and it seemed as if sheer words had failed him. Managing to utter one word, "Come," Percy stormed into his office with Remus, still smiling, right behind him.

The door slammed shut, and Remus noticed that Percy had his wand out and was muttering spells feverishly.

"To keep this conversation private," he snapped when he noticed Remus staring. He finished the spells and sat down at his desk in a misguided attempt to be intimidating. Remus had been on that side of the desk many times before; there was nothing particularly empowering about it.

"All right, what do you want, Lupin? Are you trying to blackmail me?"

Remus abandoned the look of serenity. "Percy, we've known each other a long time. I know that you are a scheming little prick, but even you ought to respect the boundaries of family. You locked up your sister for a crime she didn't commit!"

"Who's to say she didn't commit it," Percy said snidely.

"Come now, Percy. This is Ginny we're talking about. You've known her practically all your life, do you really suppose she's capable of something like this?"

He sneered. "Let's consult the papers, shall we? 'Ginny Weasley, history with Death Eaters', 'Known for being a member of a rebel group designed to bring down Voldemort. They failed, and the members of the group are believed to harbour resentment against Militia leader Jack Barnes.' Oh, and shall we mention the diary incident when she was only eleven years old? That girl was trouble from the day she was born."

"Stop it, Percy," Remus said wearily. "What is this really about? You know she didn't do it."

"This is politics. I didn't just haul her in here, there was evidence."

"What, you found a few strands of red hair on the floor? A note signed in Barnes's blood indicating Ginny as the culprit? And this isn't politics, this is family. That's what this is all about, isn't it, Percy? You got kicked out of the family, you're the black sheep. As far as the Weasleys are concerned you don't exist. All of this so-called success means nothing to them. Ginny, and we all know her history, did something she believes resulted in the deaths of your mum and Albus Dumbledore. And yet your father welcomed her back into the fold. That really hurts, doesn't it? Look where your mistakes have got you."

"You mean my position of incredible power, mansion, and gorgeous wife?" Percy's expression turned dangerous. "You know nothing about me, Lupin. Whatever you thought you knew, based off a year of teaching me as a boy, you're wrong. I'm not a boy anymore. Get out."

Remus nodded, and walked out, throwing over his shoulder, "Locking up your sister for something she didn't do, even I thought you had some level of decency left in you."

He shut the door behind him. Immediately the whispering that had been dancing around the hallway ceased, and several pairs of eyes peered at him from over their copies of The Daily Prophet. Ignoring them, Remus continued out of the Ministry and Apparated home.

He wrote the owl first, knowing that it would arrive after the symbol.

Dear Minerva,

I am very sorry to have to surprise you like this, but it comes at the behest of Ginny Weasley, and as you know, we have sworn to honour her request should it be made due to true need...

Once it was finished he folded it up and sealed it in an envelope. Then he took out his wand, concentrated on an image of Minerva McGonagall, and said, "Regenero!"

A great phoenix that looked as if it were made of stars hovered before him and crooned, glowing for a moment before the sparkle faded. Remus went to the fireplace, tossed a handful of special powder into it, and then tossed the letter after it.

"The Headmistress's office of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

The original task having been completed, he took a break for supper.

~~~

"Sack me, will they," Tonks muttered viciously. "How completely unfair. I wasn't the one to hire that wicked witch Wilma." Even the inadvertent alliteration wasn't enough to lift Tonks from her black mood.

She failed to understand why Wilma hadn't killed her on the spot--not that she wasn't grateful. Instead, the traitorous witch disarmed her and tied her up. It had taken her several hours to get help and by that time Wilma was long gone. And Tonks was summarily dismissed.

The Australian Magi Corps now behind her, she was forced to find more work in the Sydney area. Six years and they were letting her go just because she had "accidentally" helped a known criminal gain a powerful weapon.

Ugh, she had let down everyone who had ever believed in her. Some Auror she was, couldn't sense a Dark witch when she was practically on top of one.

Tonks sat down to breakfast in one of her many Weird Sisters shirts. Her hair that morning was brown with fuschia streaks and fell to her shoulders. There was a cockatoo waiting with the morning Prophet, so Tonks handed over some knuts and took it, but she tossed it onto the bed. She didn't have time for it that morning, she had to find a job.

There was a thunderous knocking on her door and for a moment Tonks thought she was under attack. Her wand at the ready, she advanced towards the door.

"Who is it?" she called, keeping her voice light and airy.

"Nymphadora Tonks?" a man on the other side called back. He had an Australian accent, but that didn't mean much. Accents could be faked.

"Yes? What can I help you with?"

"We have a job for you."

Tonks opened the door slightly, still gripping her wand. "That was awfully fast, I haven't even started looking."

The two men in lilac suits with matching top hats who were standing on her doorstep exchanged a confused glance.

"I think perhaps I'd better elaborate," said the man who had spoken before. "We need to you come with us and identify a body."

"A body?" Tonks repeated. "Whose?"

"We were hoping you could tell us," said the second man. He pulled out a crumpled empty crisps bag. "I have a Portkey here which will take us to the morgue. Will you come?"

She paused, and held her want in front of her. Her days of naivete were gone.

"Do you have names and identification?" she asked.

"I am Tom Bote and this is my partner Brendan Howse." The one who claimed his name was Bote was tall, blonde, and balding. He had a slight paunch and his stance exuded the "bad cop" attitude. Tonks supposed that made Howse the "good cop" although he stood the exact same way. He was short and dark-haired. And balding.

"We're Unspeakables for the AMG," Howse added. "This is official government business. Miss Tonks, if you'll please? We only have," he checked his watch, "forty-five seconds."

He held out the crisps bag to her which she reluctantly touched. Bote started counting under his breath and about forty seconds later they disappeared.

Tonks fell hard onto the very shiny floor of a very shiny white building. Bote pulled her to her feet and started walking. Howse did the same, so Tonks assumed she was to follow.

The Australian version of the Ministry of Magic was nothing like the one back in England. Several wizards were standing around a large rock in the middle of the enormous lobby (a small replica of Uluru, Tonks realised) complaining of bewitched didgeridoos, three hassled-looking men rushed past her carrying a koala that was mysteriously ticking and turning colours in a cage, and a talking dingo was trying to get a passport.

She took it back; it was very much like the British Ministry of Magic.

"This way, Miss Tonks," Howse called. She hurried to catch up with them.

Bote typed a code into a key pad that opened a door on the left side of the hallway they had walked into. Tonks walked forward, intending to go through the door, but Howse pulled her back.

"Not yet, Miss. We have to summon the boat."

"He's already here," Tonks said in confusion.

"No, the real boat."

It took her a minute, but Tonks realised that the room was an enormous swamp. Had she continued walking she would have fallen directly into the murky water. Howse took out his wand and Tonks heard a strange, high piercing whistle. A few seconds later she could hear the hum of a motor, and a small craft skimmed over the water.

Bote and Howse took her by the arms and lifted her down into it. As soon as they were all safely sitting inside, the boat took off. Without needing to be steered, apparently, it zoomed through the rushes and water plants. Tonks could swear she saw a crocodile. At one point, completely engrossed in looking at her surroundings, she tipped out of the boat and only Howse's quick thinking prevented her from drowning. The sound of a snap of jaws echoed in her head and once she had been dried off by a handy spell from Bote, she resolved to remain sitting.

The boat pulled up to another doorway on the opposite end of the swamp, and Bote and Howse pulled her out of it. A sign above the door said, 'Please, no necromancy or voodoo inside this room.'

"This," Bote announced unnecessarily, "is where we keep the...casualties."

He pushed open the door and stepped through. Howse gave Tonks a helpful guiding shove into the room full of dead people.

As they walked past row after row of shrouds, the two Unspeakables were silent until they reached one that looked exactly the same as all the others. Bote pulled back the sheet and said unceremoniously, "Here."

Tonks had been holding her breath, fearing the worst. She had come to know some great people in her years in Australia, and there was always the possibility that someone she had known before had come for a visit and dropped dead.

Fortunately, she didn't have the faintest idea who the dead person was.

"Sorry," Tonks shrugged, not bothering to hide her relief. "I don't have an idea. Why would you want me to identify the body anyway? Why me?"

Howse took an envelope out of his breast pocket. "This was found with the victim, addressed to you."

Tonks took it from him and opened it.

Nymphadora Tonks--

I know it has been bothering you, why I left you alive in that compound. To be quite honest I'm not sure myself. Perhaps I have grown soft in my later years. In many ways I think we are alike, and I would have hated to waste your blood.

Be warned: I am not going to regret it should the opportunity arrive again. Knowing how your mind works I am sure that your priority is hunting me down in order to enact revenge. This would be a disastrous mistake. Stay in Australia, and forget petty vengeance. Don't follow me.

Sincerely,

Wilma Gorgon

She crumpled the letter into a ball and squeezed it so tightly she thought it would pass right through her hand.

"Do you know who the man is now, Miss Tonks?" Howse asked.

"No," she answered distantly. "She probably shot the messenger." Coming to her senses, Tonks elaborated. "She was a traitor who worked with me in the AMC. She wanted me to know she's running free. Where was the body found?"

"At the Portkey-Port," said Bote. "We think that he was one of the station managers although no positive identification has been obtained. According to the man who found him, he saw a woman disappear around the time the body was discovered."

"She was taking a Portkey?" Tonks asked. "Where?"

"We're not sure. Those were international Portkeys, so she could either be in Hong Kong, Tokyo, New York, or London. Those were the only ones running at that time."

"She's in London," Tonks said shortly. "I know it."

The two men exchanged a glance.

"Miss Tonks," Howse began, but Tonks cut him off.

"I'll need a Portkey out first thing." Tonks shuddered. She didn't want to go back to London, she had left it behind ages ago and had never intended to return. And it was entirely possible that Wilma had gone to Hong Kong, Tokyo, or New York. Except that she was sure Wilma was in London--precisely because of the effect she'd know it would have on Tonks.

She had just turned to leave the morgue when time stood still. It was only the barest of moments, but suddenly there was a burst of light before her eyes, like fireworks, and a phoenix hovered, crooning, before exploding into sparkling stars and fading away.

Tonks screamed, and Bote and Howse rushed to her side.

"No, no, no, no," she cried. "Not now, not again."

"Miss Tonks!" Bote said sharply, obviously bewildered. He slapped her to return her to coherence. "What on earth is the matter?"

Taking deep breaths, Tonks managed to say, "Did you see it?"

"See what?"

So it was true. The time had come. She was being called back to the Order of the Phoenix.

But why?

"Do you have a newspaper?" Tonks asked urgently. "A Daily Prophet perhaps?"

"We probably can get one," Howse said, dazed from her outburst and seeming non-sequitur. "In the main hall. We'll have to go back across the swamp."

Tonks ran back to the door and jumped down into the boat. Howse and Bote followed quickly, and the trip back gave her time to think.

They had sworn to only use that spell in times of great need. What could have possibly made someone use it? Whoever did knew that the recipients had no choice; they would have to respond. But was it truly worth it? He or she must be truly desperate.

Practically flying out of the boat, Tonks scrambled to get inside the hallway. A crocodile snapped at her and she snapped back.

Arriving at the model of Uluru out of breath, she gasped to one of the clerks, "I need a Daily Prophet."

The man looked at her in astonishment and hurriedly grabbed a paper from a shelf behind him. Tonks took it from him and gasped once she saw the front cover.

"You mean you didn't know?" Bote asked, coming up behind her. "It's been all over the news. No one can believe it. It's as if the Prime Minister were missing."

Her first thought upon seeing that paper was, "Damn, Ginny looks awful."

Her second thought was, "Bloody hell."

And her third, and most important thought was, "This is why we've been called back. Ginny must be at the end of her rope. I can't do this, I can't go back. But, oh, she needs us. She couldn't have done this, it's impossible."

"Miss Tonks?" Howse's voice interrupted her scattered thoughts.

Her head snapped up. "I need a Portkey to London. Immediately."

Bote and Howse exchanged a look.

"Miss Tonks," Bote said, "I don't think it's a good idea for you to go chasing after her, especially as you don't know where she is."

"I'm not going for Wilma," Tonks replied. "I have other reasons." When the two men looked as if they were going to ask what those reasons were, she added, "Personal reasons."

"Miss Tonks--"

Howse was interrupted by a wizard who came around from behind the desk waving a letter.

"Excuse me, sir, but I have a letter here for a Nymphadora Tonks, and she's not on the roster!"

In a daze, Tonks said, "I'm Nymphadora Tonks." She figured, albeit incorrectly, that the day couldn't get much odder.

Dear Tonks,

I'm sorry to have startled you, as I'm sure I did. Believe me, it wasn't my choice, and had it been my decision, none of us would be pulled back into this mess, but alas...I'm rambling, I apologise.

By now I'm sure you have seen a paper and are informed of the situation. Ginny has asked me to help her re-form the Order. You are under no compulsion to return...except you are, as she has asked me to use the symbol, and as you know we have sworn to help those of us in need. She is in need, Tonks, although I certainly don't approve of this entire endeavour, we have no choice. We must at least hear her out.

Meet us at the old headquarters, we will be expecting you.

Sincerely,

Remus Lupin

Tonks just stood there for several seconds, staring down at the letter in her hand. Upon seeing the phoenix, and seeing the paper, she had expected a letter, but she certainly hadn't expected it from Remus. It was like getting a letter from the father with whom one was estranged.

Re-forming the Order, were they mad? What would be the point? They were has-beens, for some of them, never-weres. Not to mention all the betrayal, treachery, deceit, lies and pain. Ginny must have lost her mind. Could she really have done it?

No, she decided. It wasn't in Ginny's nature. Oh, sure, Ginny had done some things that had shown she was capable of making poor decisions, but it seemed so far away now. And, Tonks decided, the reasons keeping her away were slowly fading into oblivion.

Everyone would be there, she realised. Everyone. That included...him. Was she ready? Had seven years of loneliness and near death experiences prepared her to face her ex-boyfriend?

No.

But she'd go anyway.

"Listen up," Tonks said loudly. Bote and Howse, who had been comparing notes a few feet away, looked up, annoyed at this sudden intrusion into their private conversation. Too bloody tough for them. They had brought her there, they were going to damn well listen to what she had to say.

"I'll need a Portkey to London immediately," she continued. "But first I want one of you two to take me back to my flat so I can gather my things."

"Miss Tonks," Bote said again, slowly as if she were a particularly stupid child. "We will send people to find her. It is none of your concern. Why don't you go on holiday?"

"Fine, I'll go to London."

The two men exchanged a look which in the international language of men meant, "Women." But Tonks was in no mood. She simply stood there, staring at them until they were forced to break the gaze.

"Very well," Howse sighed. "We can see your mind's made up. Do us a favour though, would you? Try not to spend all your time enacting vengeance, leave it to the professionals."

That was like a slap in the face. She was a professional! How dare those smug bastards. She'd show them.

Giving them a look of pure disdain, Tonks held out her hand for the Portkey. Bote went behind the model of Uluru and came back a moment later with a cereal box. Counting under her breath, she felt the pull, and the room around her started to disappear.

She fell with a thud onto her living room rug. Still muttering viciously under her breath about idiotic men, she quickly threw some clothes into a duffel bag and grabbed the Portkey again. It was several more minutes before it left.

The ride was longer than she had imagined and she was thoroughly sick by the time she arrived. When Tonks got up and dusted herself off, she took a quick look at her surroundings. It certainly didn't look familiar. Where had those bastards dropped her off? The middle of nowhere?

Looking around desperately for any clue to her location, Tonks walked around in circles until she fell over something--literally. It was a broken sign post that she had missed in her preoccupation.

Welcome to Calgary!

But then, that meant...

Well, she certainly wasn't in England. She was trying to figure out what to do next when she was hit from behind and fell to the ground unconscious.

~~~

"Ron, would you hurry up? We're going to miss our flight!"

Ron's face was bright red from the exertion of lugging their many suitcases behind him. Attempting to catch his breath he gave her the fiercest glare he could muster, gave up, and slumped down onto an uncomfortable airline terminal seat.

"If you'd help, this might go a bit faster," Ron retorted, his chest heaving. "And why the hell are we taking an paerolane anyway?"

"Oh, honestly. It's aeroplane, Ron. Haven't you learned anything in the past fourteen years? And I've already told you, my cousin Amy wants to meet us, and she can't very well do that in an Apparation Station. Not to mention it has been ages since we've Apparated across continents and I don't fancy ending up in pieces at the bottom of the Atlantic ocean."

"What about a Portkey?" Ron insisted, gathering the luggage and standing again. He lurched forward as Hermione set a brisk pace, determined to reach the proper terminal on time.

"One, it's practically impossible to arrange a Portkey on short notice, especially in the summer, and two, they always lose the luggage."

"We could stand to lose some of this garbage," Ron muttered. "What did you pack in here?"

Hermione waved a hand idly. "Only a few basic necessities."

Ron came to a full stop and dropped the heaviest on the floor. Hermione turned to look at him disapprovingly, but he was already unzipping it. When he saw the contents he let out a loud groan.

"Books!" he exclaimed. "I should have known. Did you pack every bloody book you own?"

"Not all of them," Hermione said crisply. "I must say it was hard to make a decision, but I'm satisfied."

He held up one titled You Want to Look Different and You're Not a Metamorphmagus, So Now What? It was a thousand pages on cosmetic charms.

"You consider this a necessity?"

"For heaven's sake, Ron, we're among Muggles!" Hermione hissed. "Put that away!"

Her husband was still gaping at her. "They're your damned books, so you can carry them!"

She gave him a sickeningly sweet smile which clearly signalled 'Danger' to Ron. He cringed.

"Aren't you supposed to be the big strong man?"

He flinched again, but remained firm. "You packed them, you haul them."

Scowling, Hermione picked up the heavy bag. "People are staring, don't shout!"

"So what if they're staring?" Ron retorted. "That's their problem not mine. It's not as if I'm talking about Quidditch at the top of my lungs! I'm yelling at my wife for bringing too many bloody books."

Several people wandering past them had turned their heads to look, but passed on by at the sound of a simple domestic squabble. Those who had caught the word 'Quidditch' were a bit confused but their simple Muggle minds assumed they had misheard.

Hermione's cheeks were flushed, but she refrained from replying. Instead she took his arm and pulled him away from the crowds.

"What's this about, Ron? Are you upset because you had to leave your practise? They promised you a job in New York, and besides, it's high time you took a vacation."

He frowned at her. "Pot calling the kettle black, wouldn't you say?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means--" He paused. Then he frowned slightly. "Hermione, I think someone's watching."

"Of course they are," Hermione replied derisively. "We were just shouting at one another."

"No." His voice was odd and rather soft. "Someone is watching us."

The inflection made all the difference. Suddenly Hermione felt chills run down her spine. After fourteen years in the Wizarding world, she learned to trust her instincts. She turned her head slightly, but couldn't see anyone. Yet the feeling of being watched just wouldn't go away.

People rushed about in their haste to board their planes, and as far as she could tell they were all preoccupied with their own lives. Ron took her arm and kept them walking, although they were now walking away from their terminal.

"Ron," she whispered, "we'll miss our flight."

"If someone's following us," Ron replied quietly, "then I don't particularly want them to know where we're headed."

She stayed silent. It was true, and it bothered her just a little that she wasn't the one who realised it. What was wrong with her? She felt rather off, and, of course, feeling as if someone was peering over her shoulder wasn't helping.

"Hermione," Ron's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Hermione, look."

Time stood still.

A phoenix flew past them, glittering as if made of stars, singing its beautiful song. They stood still and watched as it left a trail of golden dust in the air, slowly fading away into nothingness.

Time resumed.

Hermione was barely aware of Ron grabbing her wrist to steady her as she rocked backward. She grabbed the front of his shirt, suddenly terrified.

"I didn't just see that, I didn't!" she cried.

"Sh, Hermione," Ron soothed. His tight grip belied his calm manner. "You didn't imagine it. It's time."

"How can you be so damned calm?" she snapped. "Don't you realise what this means? I thought you'd be more terrified than I am!"

"I don't know," he said hesitantly. "I suppose I sort of knew it would happen one day. We couldn't escape it forever. I tried really hard to deny it, and you know how much I hid from the truth. But I always knew we'd be called back one day. The pull is too strong."

"It's the phoenix," Hermione said as if she couldn't believe it. "Whoever sent it must be absolutely desperate. I don't know...what will we do?"

Ron took a deep breath and released it, shuddering. "We'll go to London. I don't know if I can do this. Hermione, you'll be there, you'll come with me, you'll be there when I see them again, won't you?"

She took his hand. "How can you even ask? Of course I will. I'm your wife now, but I'm also your best friend. I'm always there for you."

Nodding, Ron dropped her hand. Then with a speed that astounded Hermione, he ran behind a large column and pounced on someone who was lurking behind it.

"Ron, what are you doing?" she asked, bewildered and still dazed from seeing the symbol.

"Catching a spy," he grunted, his wand out. He was holding onto a struggling boy with dark hair and hateful eyes. The boy, who couldn't have been more than thirteen, started cursing. "Silencio!"

"Ron! Muggles!"

Hermione performed a tricky little spell of her own which encased the three of them in a bubble and conveniently removed them from the eyes of Muggles. Ron shook the young man hard and removed the silencing spell.

"Who are you and why were you following us?" Ron demanded.

The boy spat at his feet.

Hermione was still in confused fog. The situation did not seem to register on her list of acceptable events.

"I can make this very hard on you, you little bastard," Ron growled, already on edge from seeing the phoenix symbol.

"I'd like to see you try, you idiot !" the boy squeaked in return. He made as if to kick Ron in the shins, but Ron was too tall for him and held him at a distance.

"Do you have a name?" Hermione asked, willing herself to remain calm. After all, thirteen year old spies weren't that out of the ordinary, at least not in comparison to some of the things she had seen in her nearly twenty-five years.

"Like I'd tell you," the boy sneered. He looked slightly familiar. There was something about the nose...

"I've had enough of this," Ron said, shaking his head. "Petrificus corpus!"

The boy's body went completely rigid and he fell to the ground, but Ron hadn't frozen his head, so he continued to babble obscenities at the both of them.

No longer afraid, and slowly losing her bewilderment, Hermione gave him a sharp tap across the face.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you it was bad manners to swear in front of a woman?"

"Never stopped me," Ron muttered, grinning sidelong at Hermione. She repressed a smile and continued to glare at the boy.

"I don't have a mother," he spat. Then he grinned in an almost deranged way. "Got an auntie, though. She curses worse than me."

"That's hard to believe," Hermione said dryly. "I'll ask you again: do you have a name?"

"Sure, I got one. I'm not tellin' what it is, though." If he had been able to, he would have folded his arms across his chest in the universal expression of "Nyah, nyah, nyah."

Ron gave her a look that she took to mean he had an idea. She took a small step back. Ron with an idea tended to be dangerous.

"So I suppose you were following us on your own?"

"That's right." A haughty look crossed the boy's face. "Thought I might rob you."

"Oh, so you're a Muggle, then?" Ron looked contemptuous, and Hermione realised he was putting on full pureblood regalia.

The boy looked murderous. "I'd sooner kill myself, you wanker."

"Ah, but you are British."

Furious that he had given that much away without intending to, he fell silent. Hermione realised that this must have been what made Ron such a good lawyer. He was very good.

"Hm, a Hufflepuff, if I'm not mistaken," Ron continued, rubbing his chin now that his hands weren't holding the boy. Hermione could see the trap being laid.

The boy didn't. "Bloody hell, no! I'm not even at Hogwarts, you idiot. That place is for Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers."

Her blood boiled, as it always did when she heard the word Mudblood. It brought back memories of a certain rat-faced boy. Unpleasant memories.

"Ah, a Durmstrang brat." Ron seemed eerily calm. "But you can't be a pureblood. I suppose you could be half and half."

The boy turned purple as he tried to force his body to move, undoubtedly so he could leap up and strike Ron. Fortunately the binding spell was still active.

"How dare you?" he roared. Hermione was glad she had placed them in the bubble. What the Muggles would think...

"I am the son of--" And finally his brain caught up with his mouth. He shut it quickly and glared at Ron with all the hatred he could muster. It made Hermione sad to see such anger in a boy so young. He was undoubtedly the son of Death Eaters, raised on a steady diet of hate and fury.

"Now," Ron said, reaching down to pick up the boy whose body was as stiff as a board, "I myself see several solutions here. I would love nothing more than to blast you into tiny pieces, but I suspect my wife here would object. I certainly can't allow you to just leave and run back to your...whoever you report to. So tell you what, you tell me why you were spying on the two of us, and I'll give you the thrashing you deserve."

"Ron!"

"Oh, very well. I'll let you run off and I won't hunt you down. We have a pressing engagement, and a pint-sized git isn't high on my list of priorities."

"I have a wand," the boy said sulkily. "If you let me go how do you know I won't just curse you?"

"I've been around longer than you," Ron said wryly. "Why were you following us?"

"I was just told to," the boy finally said. "I was supposed to find out where you were going and report back."

Ron nodded and apparently this was all he needed to hear. Hermione didn't see how this answered any of the questions she had, but as he had been doing so well up until now, she decided to let him continue. He leant down and took the boy's wand from his pocket.

"Old Mad-Eye Moody would tell you you'd get your buttock's blown off," Ron said absently. "So I'll save you from that torture."

He snapped the wand in half. The boy let out a howl of pain, anger, and cursing.

"Yes, yes," Ron said, "you're angry, I get that. Get your aunt to buy you another. Finite Incantatem."

Struggling to his feet, the boy thrust out his fists. "I am Alexander Thurston, and you'll pay for that, you and your Mudblood!"

To Hermione's shock, Ron growled at the self-proclaimed Alexander and yelled, "Stupefy!" Then he gave Thurston's prone body a little kick. His shoulders hunched, a dark cloud hanging overhead, he looked at the boy with an expression of disgust.

"How could people do that to children?" he asked, more to himself than to Hermione. He looked up, saw her watching him with concern, and smiled. "Come on, we have to go to London. Get us out of this bubble."

Hermione removed the spell and they continued walking as if they hadn't been interrupted.

"Someone will notice Thurston's body, you know," she said offhandedly. Ron shrugged

"He'll wake up soon. Besides, he wasn't alone."

"How come you didn't interrogate him further?"

"There was no need. Something's up, Hermione. First the phoenix, now this. There is somewhere someone doesn't want us to be. So that's where we're going."

He was so tense and his words had a snap to them she hadn't heard in a long time. She thought about how he dealt with Thurston. "Ron, are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Let's get going."

And Hermione followed with a sigh, lugging her bag of books behind her.

A young blonde woman had watched the entire show with increasing amusement--right up to the point where Thurston had his wand snapped in half and was knocked unconscious. Sauntering over to where his body lay prone on the floor, she looked around to make sure no one was watching and whispered, "Finite Incantatem."

Alexander Thurston rose groggily and shook his head. When he saw the young woman staring down at him he paled. There was a similarity to their features, especially in the nose.

"Xander, I'm really very ashamed of you," she said with a sigh, sounding more disappointed than anything else, and he sighed in relief.

"But, Aunt Pansy, it wasn't my fault! He caught me by surprise!"

Pansy Parkinson shook her head. "You should never have been caught unaware. How many times have I told you this?" She sighed again. "Oh, well, no matter. They are going to London now, our job here is finished."

"Aunt Pansy? What was our job, exactly?"

Pansy smirked.

~~~

They were sitting in a café on a street that was very much like Diagon Alley.

Except that it was in Paris.

Bill Weasley was very carefully shredding sugar packets. Fleur Delacour watched him with interest for several moments before asking him what he was doing.

"Hm?" he asked, looking up. "Oh, sorry, love, don't know what came over me."

Fleur smiled. "Per'aps you are just tired."

It was lunch time and they had just sat down. Bill was very hungry, but there was some thought nagging at the back of his mind, just out of reach, which did not make him the most interesting of lunch companions.

"I was zinking zat we should go to visit ton pere soon," Fleur commented, buttering her bread. When Bill didn't respond she looked up and snapped her fingers. "Bill? Bill? Are you listening a moi?"

Started from his reverie, Bill shook his head to clear his thoughts. "I really am sorry, Fleur, I don't know what's wrong with me today."

"It is all right," she replied. "Shall I get a paper?"

He smiled. Her English was nearly flawless now, but when she was out in her native country, her accent returned, and he loved to hear it slip in and out like the wind.

"Certainly," he replied, and she stood up to go get it.

He heard a strange noise, a sort of warbling cry. It wasn't an unpleasant sound, but certainly unusual. He turned his head to look for the source of it and noticed that the couple at the next table weren't moving.

Then he saw the phoenix.

A few moments later Fleur came running up to him, a copy of the Daily Prophet clutched in her hands.

"Bill!" she cried. "Look, it is your sister!"

Bill looked at the front page of the Prophet with his sister's scowling picture plastered across the front next to Jack Barnes. He took in the headline. He thought about the phoenix.

Looking up at Fleur who stood there with a concerned and horrified expression across her face, Bill said, almost sheepishly, "Fleur, love, I, er, think there's something I should tell you..."

~~~

"Oy, George!"

"What, Fred?"

"Take a look at this, would you?"

"Merlin's beard! That can't be Ginny."

"It is. This must be what the phoenix was about. Lucky for her we were already on our way to London, eh?"

"You don't suppose she really did it, do you?"

"Do you think she did?"

"Well, she did do...that other thing."

"That was a long time ago, George."

"Are you over it?"

A pause. "No."

"Didn't think so."

"Are you ready for this? There'll be a lot to deal with. We've done well for ourselves, you know. We could put this behind us."

"You know as well as I do that that's not an option. We're 'invited to attend' already. Besides, we were going to London anyway. We could just, you know, stop by."

"What, and then take off again?"

"Sounds good to me."

"We won't have to see him again, will we?"

"Who, the pillock? I doubt it. At least, I certainly hope not."

"All right then."

"There'll be a lot of Militia goons, though."

"Bollocks. Well, sacrifices must be made. You don't suppose they're still holding a grudge?"

"Did you even read the article?"

"Well, yes..."

There were several minutes of silence between them and then:

"Ginny looks like Hell, doesn't she?"

~~~

Harry surveyed the unconscious body of Nymphadora Tonks at his feet. Her hair isn't pink, he thought idly.

Then he smiled to himself. What would they do next?

He picked her up and carried her inside. Let it never be said that he was not a gentleman, even if he was a bit nuts.

It looked like his days of waiting were over.