Promises Remembered

Promises Remembered

The Sequel to Promises Unbroken

Chapter Twenty-Eight: That Which Matters

She was standing alone on a street corner in the drizzle, bathed in warm light from the oncoming traffic and not paying attention to any of it. To her left, her erstwhile companion said something else in badly accented French, and she ignored him again. He'd been talking since he'd first spotted her during dinner in the small pub. Julia had been ignoring him for just as long.

Sighing, she waited for the light to change before crossing the street--Canadian drivers were terrible, especially in Montreal. She still had a hard time getting over why the Muggles in North America insisted on driving on the wrong side of the street; driving wasn't something that she claimed to know a lot about, but even witches knew which side of the road to drive on! Then again, given how everything on the dammed continent seemed to be just a little bit adjusted, only a tiny (but infuriating) bit different from home, this was hardly a surprise. At least this discrepancy was obvious.

The stranger followed her, still babbling in his horrendous French. She was posing as a Frenchwoman, of course, which was why he insisted on attempting to speak the language--Julia had already pretended not to know a word of English, which was, unfortunately, not as much use in Montreal as it would have been in, say, the United States. There, however, her accent would have completely given her away, whereas in Canada, she could pretend to be French with relative immunity. Unfortunately, most of the locals spoke French. Or tried to.

Julia kept walking, wishing that he'd just go away, or that she could find a way to hex him without anyone noticing. But she was avoiding Magical Canada just like she had avoided Magical Britain, and would continue to avoid the entire Wizarding world. She could blend in with Muggles--their world was the one place where Voldemort did not have spies. There, and only there, did she stand a chance of being safe.

She almost snorted out loud.

Safe.

Unnoticed.

Alone.

They were pretty much the same thing, and she did not like any of them, despite how she knew what she had to do. Julia was determined not to play the damsel in distress, not to let Voldemort use her against Sirius--and he would, if given half the chance. She loved her brother, but also knew him well. Lucius has saved her once. He would not do so a second time, so any saving that went on she would have to do herself.

So she walked down a dark Canadian street, alone except for a nauseating and obnoxious local who seemed to think that she had hair the color of moonlight and eyes the color of pale diamonds. Never mind that her eyes were gray. Facts didn't seem to disturb him.

But he did have black hair, just long enough to remind her painfully of one she loved and to whom she had not even been able to say goodbye. She had almost lost him once, had come painfully close...but now she was the one who had done the leaving, and she prayed that Sirius would understand. She didn't even dare write him a letter, for fear that it might be tracked, but the goodbye she had left with James was not enough. It could never be, and that thought burned within her. There were many things in life that had to be done. Few of them, however, hurt enough to break the heart.

Julia bit her lip. If there was one thing life had taught her, it was that Malfoys never cried.

-------------

"Fred! George!" Molly Weasley's voice echoed harshly throughout the Burrow. "Are you ready yet?"

Percy's floated up to them next. "What in the world is taking them so long? How hard can it be to--ow!"

"Oh, sorry, Percy!" Ginny gushed. "Was that your foot?"

Ron stuck his head in the door. "You two better hurry up. Mum's about to get up here, and I don't think she'll take kindly to the fact that you're still trying to hide the fact that you've got three trunks instead of two."

Fred growled. "You got any better ideas?"

Ron shrugged, and all three boys stared at the trio of trunks decorating the floor of the twins' room. Late the night before, Fred and George had received Lee's school trunk through the Floo (they'd have brought Lee through, too, if they thought they could hide him), but now they had to figure out how to get the trunk into the car. Taking the trunk with them hadn't exactly been part of the plan, but Mrs. Jordan had threatened to burn it the night before, and they'd had to do something. It was bad enough that Lee didn't have any books or supplies for this year, but if he didn't have a trunk, Professor Fletcher was sure to send him home. They could share books, the twins figured, but robes were another matter altogether.

"I do," another voice piped up from behind Ron, making all three heads turn. It was Ginny.

"Oh, do you?" Ron asked irritably.

"Yup." She nodded, grinning. "I put my trunk in the car early this morning. It's under Ron's. I figure that if we distract Mum enough, she won't think much of me hauling down 'my' trunk. She's too pleased with Perfect Prefect Percy to notice six trunks instead of five."

Fred's frown turned into a smile. "Gin, you're brilliant."

"You'll make a Misfit yet," George added.

"She's our sister!" Ron objected.

"So?" Ginny countered. "Hermione's a girl, and she's a Misfit."

"She's not a very good Misfit," Ron retorted.

"Will you two stop?" George demanded, just as their mother's voice floated up the stairs to them.

"What on earth is going on up there?" Then, more quietly, they heard her say: "Percy, go fetch them, or we'll be late."

Fred swore. "Quick, Ginny, grab the trunk--it's a good thing that Angelina threw Lee's trunk down the stairs last year, so it looks almost as battered as ours'--"

"Let's go!" George interrupted. "Go, Ron. Distract Percy--he's the nasty and nosey sort that'll notice that the trunk is the wrong shade of blue."

"Right."

And with that, Operation Free Lee swung into motion.

-------------

"As you all know, this coming term will be unlike any Hogwarts has ever experienced. Even at the height of Grindelwald's power, the school never faced such danger as it does now."

There. The words were said, and grim faces nodded in reply. To the last, every one of the professors had returned this term, even considering the risks inherent in doing so--and Remus had warned them, time and again. Although his professors drifted their separate ways during the holidays, the headmaster did stay in touch, and he had made sure that they understood what might come. Still, the words had to be said.

"However, we will carry on. Attendance is down a bit this year, but considering recent events, that's no surprise at all. Regardless, we have a good sized group of first-years, and we owe them the best we can give, dangers or no," Remus continued.

"Good training is even more important now that Voldemort's power is growing," Fletcher piped up. "And so are good lessons--I know we will lose a few students to darkness before the year is up. Some will choose," the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor said grimly. "But let's make that as few as possible."

"And let's make sure that we don't lose any to others' choices, either," Ted Tonks added. "Better they learn of the war here, where we will tell the truth, than at home where their parents will try to protect them."

"They are children," Professor Vector objected.

"That doesn't change the fact that the world is at war," the new Transfiguration teacher countered, and Remus shot Ted a grateful glance. "You can't run away from this. No one can." He smiled wryly. "That's a lesson I learned recently enough."

"And one that I don't want them learning through the death of a friend or family member," Remus said quietly, regaining control of the meeting. "We might anger some parents by telling the truth, but lying, no matter how noble the intention, is something we will not do."

The others nodded, though some were more reluctant to do so than others. Fortunately, they all knew Remus' policies, and the professors had already debated them a hundred times. There were no surprises here, and would not be--the pre-term meeting was, as always, simply a formality and an excuse to say hello. They'd eat dinner together that evening, and receive the students the next day--it was hard to believe that the summer had finally come to an end. The months since the attack on the Ministry of Magic had seemed to last two lifetimes, and Remus, for one, was glad to have his students coming back. There was once again purpose to his world, even if that meant danger, too.

A grave voice interrupted his musings.

"My inner eye foretold that you would choose such a wise path, and continue to lead us..."

"Oh, do shut up, Sybil," Severus interrupted her irritably. "We've all heard that drabble before."

"Not to mention the fact that Remus has said words to this effect before, so even a potato's inner eye could foresee this meeting," Dung added dryly.

Remus choked back a laugh, and saw that Professors Tonks, Vector, and Sinistra were trying to do the same with less effect. Dung looked like he had eaten a particularly sour piece of fruit, and Sprout was grinning openly. Trelawney, however, hardly seemed to notice. She sniffed loftily in Snape's direction.

"Those without the gift of prophecy will always scoff at those who see," she said airily.

"And then there are those who simply pretend..." Dung muttered.

Sinistra giggled, and Ted's face went bright red. Was he even breathing? Remus checked again. Probably not.

Ted was, however, a welcome addition to the staff. When Remus had finally convinced Dung Fletcher to take the Defense Against the Dark Arts job, he was faced with the task of finding a new Transfiguration professor. That search had proved harder than he expected it too--although qualified professors existed in abundance, few were now eager to teach at Hogwarts. At Beauxbatons, yes. Even at Durmstang--but not at Hogwarts. The school was far too well known for resisting the Dark Lord, and too many were afraid to face him.

Then Ted had volunteered, and Remus had been overjoyed. Not only was Ted a brilliant and well-known author in the field of Transfiguration, he was a wonderful example for the Muggleborn students who came to Hogwarts. Ted was proof that they could succeed, and would if they worked hard enough. That, and he was a welcome addition to the staff room, which had been somewhat lacking in humor during recent years. He and Dung seemed to have hit it off right away, though, and Remus had already heard them babbling on about this spell and that spell and about how the newest issue of Transfiguration Today simply hadn't gotten it right. He smiled. It had been time for new blood.

Severus, seeming to be in uncommonly good cheer, quipped, "those who can't do, teach, you realize."

"What does that say about you?" Sinistra snorted. Hagrid guffawed.

"About all of us, more like," Vector pointed out, making the others (save Trelawney, who still seemed to be above the conversation) laugh again. Smiling, Remus spoke up before Severus could say whatever was on his mind--though his wit was as sharp as a dagger, it was often something less than tactful and could often sting, even when he did not mean it to.

"Though I hate to break up the entertaining conversation," he chuckled, "I believe we are late for lunch."

"Goodness! Yer right, Professor Lupin!" Hagrid lurched to his feet, and Remus could have sworn he heard the half-giant's stomach growling from the other side of the staff room. "Why, I could eat a half of a--"

"Spare us the gory details, please," Severus interjected. "I would like to digest my coming meal in peace."

"Oh, no!" Sinistra said quickly, snickering. "Don't disturb poor Severus' fragile appetite. Why, none of us would know what to do if that happened!"

Snape glared. Everyone else laughed.

-------------

"Oi!" Fred jolted to a stop, causing both Ginny and George to crash right into him. Trunks and cages flew everywhere--Percy's new owl, Hermes, screeched angrily at Hedwig when their cages collided, and Ginny's out of control trunk careened sideways, crashing into Hermione and knocking her right off her feet.

Now that, Ginny thought victoriously, went pretty well, despite not being able to use magic. She fought the grin down as she staggered to her feet. Perfect!

Both her parents were caught in the midst of five Weasley trunks and children, plus Harry and Hermione (plus all of their luggage), who had joined their group a few minutes before. Both Arthur and Molly Weasley looked concerned, especially for Hermione, whose knee had been scraped--and neither seemed even the slightest bit suspicious, which was wonderfully new. Unfortunately, Ginny's parents were nearly always suspicious, mostly because they had the infamous Fred and George Weasley as children, and any parents who had fourteen years of experience with those two had either learned suspicion or died from a fatal overdose of nasty surprises.

However, Arthur and Molly Weasley didn't have any experience with the Magical and Invisible Society For Instigating Trouble.

Spinning around, Ginny threw a glare at Fred and demanded, "What'd you do that for?"

"Sorry, Gin." Fred glanced around at the chaos his sudden stop had created, seeming to see it for the first time. "I realized that I forgot my Dark Arts text in the car."

"Is that all?" Percy snapped.

"Oh, will you get over it already?" Ron retorted, picking himself up from underneath Hermione's trunk--as nearly as Ginny could guess, Hermione had bounced off of Harry, whose trunk had hit Ron's, which had crashed into Hermione's, which had promptly knocked Ron off of his feet and landed him under the same trunk. "It's not like anyone's hurt or anything--"

"Well, I am," Hermione snapped so angrily that Ginny wondered if she was really faking or not. There was little way to tell; Ron and Hermione were always fighting about something. But there seemed to be a troublemaking gleam in Hermione's eyes, and Ginny took that to be a good sign.

"Oh, don't you worry, dear," Ginny's mum said immediately. "I'll have you mended in a moment." She pointed her wand at the scrape, and a small white spark healed it almost immediately. "There. See?"

Hermione smiled angelically. "Thanks, Mrs. Weasley."

"It's no trouble, Hermione. None at all."

"I'll tell you what is trouble," Ron announced to the world. "The fact that Percy's stupid bloody owl--"

"Ronald!" their mum shouted.

"I'll have you know that Hermes is one of the smartest of his--" Percy started.

"Oh, really?" Ron demanded.

"Will you two shut up?" Ginny whined, just to spice things up a little.

Hermione rounded on Ron. "Has it ever occurred to you to stop shouting long enough to apologize?"

"Hey, it's not his fault that his body got in the way of your trunk," Harry interjected.

"Now, children..." Ginny's dad tried to speak, but he was rather quiet, and his eleven year old little girl managed to drown him out quite easily.

"I can't believe that you let Hermes get so close to Hedwig!" she shouted accusingly, glaring at Percy. "Now look what's happening!"

"What?" her older brother asked in surprise, swinging his head around in a vain search for his owl, who was now nowhere near Hedwig at all, seeing as how Hedwig was sitting upright and quite happily next to Harry.

"That!" she pointed aimlessly at thin air. "It's so--"

"Ginny, Percy..." their dad tried again, with no less success.

"Not his fault?" Hermione snarled. "Whose side are you on, anyway?"

"I'm not on a side!" Harry objected earnestly. Ginny had no idea he was such a good actor. "It's just that you didn't see--"

"I didn't see?" Hermione screeched. "I suppose because I'm a girl, I'm incapable of knowing anything, then?"

"Ginny, what are you talking about?" Percy demanded.

Ginny resisted the urge to snicker and pointed in a new direction, replying, "That!"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Molly Weasley's shout was loud enough to make heads turn all over Platform 9 ¾ , but fortunately they were in the Wizarding world, and the Wizarding world was used to the Weasley clan. It's about time, Ginny thought with relief.

She tried to look bashful, but didn't do to well. To her right, Ron wasn't doing much better, but Hermione's face was still red and her hair was all a mess, which made her seem angry rather than guilty, which worked out just fine. Harry only managed to look confused, but at least he wasn't a Weasley. He could get away with it.

Percy simply looked furious, but then again, he wasn't in on the joke.

"Now, I don't quite understand how a little mess has managed to make everyone so angry," their dad started, "but unless you clean this disaster up right away, none of you are getting on the--"

"Hey!" Percy cut him off. "Where'd Fred and George go?"

-------------

"They still don't understand," Severus said quietly. "Not really, anyway."

"Dung does," Remus pointed out.

"Dung is different," his deputy countered, and the headmaster had to concede the point.

"I know. But we can't really help matters, you realize."

"True."

Snape scowled. "Is that all you have to say?" he demanded. "You know that the Dark Lord is coming. You know what that will cost the school, even if you succeed. And yet you say nothing?"

"No. Not nothing." Remus blinked. So rarely did Severus let his feelings out that even friends sometimes forgot that he had them, and this was a surprise. It took Remus a moment to swallow the raw emotion in Severus' voice, and then he had to remind himself that his companion loved Hogwarts as much as Remus did...if not more. He would never completely understand what the school meant to Snape, but he did know that Hogwarts touched everyone in different ways, and that was what mattered. He took a deep breath.

"Severus, I know what is coming. I even know that I might not be able to stop it. But between this moment and then, we have another duty, and it is not just to face the darkness. We have students to teach, and while those people back there might not be suited to fight or even to understand a war, they are suited to teaching. And we need them, just as they are."

"And when the end comes?"

Remus swallowed. "We hope they will do the right thing. And we pray that it will not be such an end that we cannot recover from it."

There was a long moment of silence before Snape shook his head.

"Maybe I've seen too much," the Death Eater said quietly, all traces of anger suddenly gone from his voice. "Maybe I have forgotten how to hope. But of all places in our world, this is the last I would want to see fall. Too much matters here..."

"I know." For a moment, Remus was tempted to put his hand on his friend's shoulder, but he did not. Such things were not done. "We will do what we can, and fight until the last, if it comes to that."

Snape snorted, and Remus saw his old bitterness flare back to life. "Will they?"

Remus glanced back at the door that his professors had used the staff room only minutes before. "Yes," he said quietly. "I believe they will."

-------------

"I can't believe it went so well," Fred grinned as the pair slipped through the parking lot at King's Cross.

"That was almost perfect," George agreed, skipping around an ugly pink car. "Now, if Lee's Mum is still at that luncheon when we get there..."

"We'll pull this off without a hitch."

"And we'll be at Hogwarts before anyone's the wiser." George shrugged. "'Cept for the missing car part, but we're leaving a note. At least Mum can't complain that she didn't know--"

Fred cut him off. "Even if we are telling her that we couldn't wait to see the look on everyone's face when we pulled up in front of Gambol and Japes--"

"As if we would really do something like that to Dad," George finished with a scowl. "But Mum'll believe it. She's at the point where she'll believe we'll do anything."

"Including steal the car and fly it off to 'rescue' your friend?" another voice suddenly piped up, making the twins stagger to a halt, eyes wide and mouths hanging open.

"Bill?!"

Their oldest brother smiled grimly. "Unless there's another red-haired Auror standing in the parking lot."

Fred found his voice first. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"Stopping you," Bill responded levelly. "Dad isn't as stupid as you two seem to think, you know."

"We didn't think--"

"No, you didn't." They'd never seen Bill act so responsible, but his eyes weren't even laughing, like they usually were when the twins pulled prank. "And that's the problem."

"But--" George tried.

Bill sighed. "I imagine that you had the others stage some huge fight so you could escape?"

"How'd you know?"

"I'm your brother, Fred," Bill pointed out. "I've watched your pranking skills evolve over the years."

"But this isn't a prank," George objected. "We're not really going to land the car at Gambol and Japes!"

"I know," their brother replied quietly, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his midnight blue robes. His shoulders slumped ever so slightly. "I know you want to bring Lee to Hogwarts, and it's even a good and noble idea. But you can't do it."

"Why not?" Fred demanded.

"Because it's not your choice, and by doing so you'd endanger not only Lee, but also yourselves. And our family."

Both twins started to object, but Bill got in first, his voice still quiet and reasonable.

"The two of you have got to learn to think bigger than yourselves and your friends," the Auror said in an undertone. "First of all, the last thing Dad needs is for everyone to know he's got a flying Muggle car--Fudge would use that get him sacked as Deputy Minister in a heartbeat. Second, what if someone else sees you? Like a Death Eater?"

"There's an invisibility generator, you know," George pointed out.

"There are ways to see though invisibility, George," Bill replied softly. "Many of them. And I know for a fact that there are Death Eaters watching our family."

"What?" both gasped.

Bill nodded silently.

"But that..." Fred trailed off as all the implications sank in. Yes, they would have probably made it to Lee's house, but would they have ever made it out...? He swallowed, and saw the same sick expression cross George's face. Rescuing a friend was one thing--endangering him was another. A long moment passed before Bill spoke again.

"Dad figured that if Mum caught you, she'd only yell and attract attention. The two of you would tune her out, anyway. And he wouldn't tell you the things that I will."

Fred swallowed again. Like the fact that we'd ruin Dad's Ministry career. Or that we're being watched. He exchanged a quick glance with George, and his twin nodded. There were moments when having a brother that was an Auror wasn't so interesting after all.

"All right," George said slowly. "We won't go."

"We promise," Fred added. How do we explain this to Lee?

"Thank you," Bill said with a slight smile. Their brother looked relieved as he pulled his right hand out of his pocket and extended an object towards them. "Here. Tell Mum that you left this in the car."

This was a copy of the fourth edition of The Beaters' Bible by Brutus Scrimgeour, a brand new and impossible to find book that they'd both wanted desperately. How Bill had managed to get a hold of one when every bookstore that the twins knew of was sold out, Fred didn't know, but he didn't really care, either. He managed to smile.

"Thanks, Bill."

"Yeah." The Auror snorted. "Now get inside before Mum realizes I was conspiring with you--it'll ruin my reputation as a rule-following Weasley."

The twins laughed, but even that didn't take away the nasty feeling in Fred's stomach. What were they going to do about Lee?

-------------

He hadn't touched it since that fateful day in July. He hadn't wanted to, really, and had even managed to convince himself that it was not important. Almost.

Now, however, the journal was heavy in his hands, heavy and cold. Touching it almost made Sirius nauseous, but he suspected that if he had not been branded with the Mark, he would have never survived doing so. As matters stood, the growling darkness inherent in the leather bound book was enough to give him goosebumps, and Sirius felt as if he could never be warm again. Despite that, he could open it, and he would not turn back now. He could not, not upon this road he had taken.

Once, he'd wondered why Dumbledore had not utilized the journal, had not read it himself and learned all he could. Regulus had died to give it to the late Minister, and yet, Dumbledore had done nothing... But now Sirius understood. The old man could never have opened the journal without destroying it--or himself. Sirius, however, could--Voldemort had left him with more than bad memories and the Dark Mark. His gift had provided Sirius with the ability to open the journal, to do what no other would dare do. A ghost of a smile crossed his face. Finally, something comes of this which he does not expect.

The smile disappeared when he swallowed. It was time.

-------------

Tonks squinted into the darkness. She and Horace were wandering again, of course--both had managed to finish the readings for the third section of Defense Against Dementors, and as usual, they grew bored quickly. So it was off to explore once more, because there was always something new to discover on Avalon...even if trainees weren't supposed to wander after hours. In that way, she mused, Avalon was a bit like Hogwarts. Paranoid teachers creating disobedient students.

Then again, Avalon was just a tad more dangerous than Hogwarts could ever be. Hogwarts, after all, didn't have giant stone doors that wanted to kill their enemies, or mazes designed to reach out and grab trainees. Hogwarts also didn't have devious individuals like Frank Longbottom in charge--nor expert sneaks like Bill Weasley. Fortunately, though, the pair of troublemakers had long since realized that the best time to explore was when Weasley wasn't on the island, and Horace had been lucky enough to overhear Weasley telling Jones that he was going home for the night. That, in turn, had sealed their fate.

Tonks and Horace had set out right before sunset, sneaking out of the Student Quarters and past Avalon's shallow lake--again, compared to Hogwarts, the two had very little in common. The lake was almost deep enough to swim in--if you were four feet tall. Anyone else would either hit their feet on the bottom or have their head come out of the water with every stroke, and Tonks didn't know why the Aurors bothered keeping the lake. Maybe that was simply because the lake had always been there, and that seemed to be the excuse for almost everything on Avalon. The darn place was ancient, so old that no one even remembered who built the buildings, only that they were there.

Most of the Aurors labeled Avalon's old architecture as Roman in design; after some careful study and reading a few books (she had been a Ravenclaw, after all), Tonks had realized that some of it was Roman. The rest, well...there simply weren't buildings like that in any book Tonks had ever seen, including Muggle ones. It was almost as if Avalon had simply sprung up out of history and then disappeared again, leaving no traces behind except for the isle upon which she now stood. Still thinking along the same lines, she turned to Horace.

"You ever wonder why this island seems to have no history?"

"Huh?" Horace turned to her, blinking distractedly, then he blushed a little. "Sorry. What did you say?"

"I was just asking if you'd ever wondered why Avalon seems to have no history at all. I mean, we know that the Aurors have been here for centuries, but no one seems to know how many centuries, or even why we came here in the first place. And no one understands why anything happens, either. Like the weather."

"Or like those doors." Horace gestured into the growing darkness, pointing at the shady outline of the Primary Apparition Center. Tonks turned her head, nodding.

"Yeah. Sometimes I wonder where--" A shadow flickered in the outlying trees--"What's that?"

"I don't know," Horace answered. "That's what I've been watching, though. I think there's someone out there."

"A candidate?"

He shrugged. "Not sure."

"Well." Tonks grinned at him, but she was almost certain Horace didn't notice. Or, if he did, he was ignoring her--but Horace had become good at that over the past months. Hell, that's what friends are for! "Let's go find out."

"You're crazy, Tonks," Horace groaned.

"This is new how?"

She bolted forward without waiting for him, knowing that Horace would creep right along behind her. He always did, and as conservative as Horace Smeltings appeared on the outside, he was definitely the sneakier sort of Slytherin...though he hadn't been very pleased when she'd tried to call him a shady snake.

"This is stupid," he hissed in her ear when Tonks paused to take a second look at the shadow. The figure was beginning to look more and more male, which made her wonder if it might be one of the instructors--but he was too short to be either Weasley or Shacklebolt, and not stocky enough to be Longbottom. He definitely wasn't Hestia Jones, and though Tonks knew her cousin was on the island, he didn't look like Sirius, either, especially given the fact that his hair seemed rather too cropped off.

"So?" she answered.

Horace groaned again. "Who do you think it is?" he asked, sliding his head around from behind his tree for a better look.

"I was just wondering that." They were both silent for a long moment, then he shrugged.

"One of the Aurors, I suppose."

"It's not one of the instructors."

"No, it isn't."

And they didn't know of any active Aurors, save for Sirius Black, who were currently on the island. Tonks scowled. "What is he doing?"

"Spellwork," Horace replied thoughtfully.

"Well, obviously."

"No. Work. On the wards."

She turned to stare at him, but Horace seemed very certain. "Huh?"

"I cast a diagnostic spell," he explained. "I made it bounce off the wards so he wouldn't notice it, and the wards are...fluctuating."

"Fluctuating? Like how?" Tonks' heart leapt into her throat. One of the first things Aurors were told upon arriving on Avalon (aside from the part about how difficult training would be) was that trainees were not, under any circumstances, to touch the wards. Not physically, not with magic, not at all. Even full Aurors weren't invited to tinker with Avalon's defenses, which was what had kept the island secure for so long.

"As if they're being...I don't know. Adjusted." Horace shook his head. "Whatever it is, it isn't right."

"You mean...?" She didn't even want to say it. Speaking the words might make them real.

"Yeah."

"Then...?"

Fortunately, Horace knew her well. He didn't even have to look at her to know what she was asking. He nodded quickly. "I think so. Do we go the subtle route, or the obvious one?"

"Well, we can try not to get kicked out...tonight."

"Subtle it is."

Without another word, the pair of candidates headed in separate directions, neither taking their eyes off of the mystery figure. He was toying with the wards--Tonks could see vague sparks flying around him in the darkness. Of course, there could have been an innocent explanation for his actions, but if so, why do it in the middle of the night? And why way out here? She was certain that there were a lot more convenient places to work on the wards than right next to the Primary Apparition Center, which was way the hell out and gone from everything else on the island, except for the Old Gates and the lake.

And PriApp itself.

Oh, damn. She barely stopped herself from saying the words out loud in time. But it did explain a lot, and she didn't have time to tell Horace. There might not be time for anything at all.

The wards in the shadow's immediate vicinity were glowing orange now, ever so slightly.

Thinking quickly, Tonks grabbed her wand out of her pocket and thrust it in his general direction, aiming for an empty spot of ground roughly halfway between herself and whoever-he-was. If I'm wrong, there's going to be hell to pay, she thought desperately, but there was no time to be sure. Even if Horace realized what was happening, there was no way to predict what he'd do, or if he'd do it in time...

A quick swipe of her wand sent a bright purple spark sailing into the spot Tonks had chosen. Purple fireworks exploded the moment the spark hit the ground, and Tonks barely managed to shield her eyes in time. Far to her right, she heard Horace yelp, but the stranger's shout drowned her friend out easily.

Blinded by the sudden light, the mystery man's head snapped from side to side, helplessly searching for Tonks, but she ducked behind a tree, trying not to giggle at his startled reaction. But his next movement was less anticipated--without warning, he bolted towards the giant rock doors of PriApp. And they opened for him.

What?

Tonks could only stare as the ancient doors slid shut behind the stranger.

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