The Worst Day Since Yesterday

"Vesta? I need to talk to you about something rather important. Not like what I'm going to do about Mum and my disownment, but something actually important," Artemesia said, sounding a little unsettled over the telephone.

Vesta White was walking around her kitchen, wondering what was wrong with Maize this time. Although, Artemesia had long since stopped allowing anyone to call her that for a very long time. Vesta had a bye simply because they had known one another so long. She sighed. If this was another bout of her melodramatic tangents, Vesta swore she would hang up the phone there and then. "What's the matter this time? Sybil predict you would marry an axe-murderer?" Vesta guessed. "Or did she predict that you would start stalking the new Defense teacher like that friend of yours, Auriga Sinistra, has done in the past?"

There was a foreboding silence on the other end of the line. "Maize? Please say you aren't worked up about that sort of inane babble," Vesta continued. "Seriously. Even I know better than to follow that sort of idiotic Divination. None of it ever comes true! That's why I decided to become a medwitch, if you remember."

"You do realize that most of what you say becomes true when you talk like that, don't you?" Artemesia replied in a deadpan. "And before you say anything else, no, you were not right about the axe-murderer thing. That was a tasteless joke. Shame on you for referring to a Mike Myers movie, Vesta. Shame." She paused. "And furthermore, I am not stalking the new teacher."

Vesta furrowed her eyebrows. Hm. Semantics. Splitting hairs on semantics. "Then what are you doing to said person?" she asked suspiciously. Artemesia was beating around the bush. Not a good sign. Not a good sign at all. "Do these new problems of yours concern this teacher?"

"Firstly," Artemesia said in a defensive tone, "I am not doing anything to him. Secondly, yes, the problems do concern him. Thirdly, the problems center around how I don't know what to do with him. I have no clue what I am doing whatsoever."

Vesta felt like hitting her head against the wall. This news was not good. The last time Artemesia had been having boy troubles, said young man had landed himself in prison. "What's going on this time?" she asked tiredly. "Your ex-boyfriend break out of jail again?"

"Actually, he was cleared," was the response. "What do I do?"

Vesta tripped over the edge of the carpet in her living room, where she had migrated after a few circuits around the kitchen. "Is he innocent? Did he bribe the judges?" she commenced the interrogation. "What does this have to do with the Defense teacher? Do they know each other?"

Artemesia cut Vesta off before she could say anymore: "Vesta. He is the Defense teacher. Dumbledore had McGonagall ask him to come teach so the Ministry would not send someone. As to the former questions, he has always been innocent, apparently. They only just gave him a trial. Also, the Ministry never caught him again."

Vesta scoffed disgustedly. "They never gave him a trial back in '81? Why, that sort of miscarriage of justice would never happen here!" she exclaimed. "My God. And the Ministry hasn't had a clue as to where he had been for the past two years? Disgraceful! Why--"

"Please don't go into how the FWBI or MCIA would have known exactly where a supposedly dangerous criminal was, or how the Wizarding court system would not have let the lapse in judgment occur," Artemesia interjected. "I'm not in the mood to discuss international relations right now or why your government is better than mine. I know your rhetoric by heart, Vesta." She paused. "I don't know how I feel about him, though. What should I tell him?"

"Tell him the truth," Vesta replied immediately. "You want to know where you stand with him," she continued, wondering how many others to whom Artemesia had asked about this. "Even if neither of you want to pick up where you left off, you can at least have a working relationship. I mean, it's better to be able to make mindless small talk than stand around in awkward silence during those truly bizarre faculty meetings held at Hogwarts."

"Vesta? Did I tell you about that time Auriga threw a coffee cup at Severus' head during the start of the year meeting four years ago?" Artemesia mentioned. "It was a moment to cherish, that was for sure. Now the amusement will be provided by yours truly and the ex-convict."

Vesta stood in silence in the middle of the entrance hallway of her house. She supposed it was a good thing that Artemesia had slipped into her goofy, nervous stage of dealing with her "crises." The humor was a good sign; that was for sure. "Artemesia, you will not become the laughing stock of the entire school. Besides, have you even considered how your ex will feel? He's probably just as flipped out as you are," she reminded her. "Anyway, you shouldn't worry about it until you talk to him. Then, if anything's wrong, worry, but break the ice first."

"You're probably right," Artemesia said on the telephone as Terry, Vesta's husband, walked through the front door. He saw Vesta was on the phone and smiled wryly, guessing Artemesia was the one on the other end. She was the only one that caused Vesta to wander the house. "Well, I need to go do some more to my lesson plans. I'll talk to you later, alright?"

"Of course, bye, Maize," she said and hung the phone up. Vesta turned to Terry. "Three guesses as to what's wrong this time," she said as they walked back to the kitchen.

"Hm. Let's see... Could it be that her space-cadet friend is in trouble again?" he asked good-naturedly. Vesta gathered that he had had a good day at work. Terry had been coming home depressed for the past few weeks--Vesta gathered that it was because of Voldemort's return. He was one of the top field agents, after all, and he knew the most about how the Death Eaters operated. She knew that he would be sent back over to Britain if the situation escalated.

"Nope," Vesta replied cheerfully. It did not matter anyway. She would be sent back over, too, because of her experience with the last war. Terry wanted to send the children to his alma mater, so they would all be in Britain. The children would be safe there at that school, she knew.

"Did she make a major breakthrough in the field of Arithmancy and doesn't know how to deal with the press?" Terry guessed again, not really having a clue. Now in the kitchen, he was making himself a bowl of cereal. Vesta took an iced tea out of the refrigerator.

"No to that, too. Really, Ter, you need to be more realistic," she said. There were downsides to going back across the Pond. Terry would be in what Vesta considered an inordinate amount of danger, even if all he did were advise the Aurors and possibly the Minister of Magic. The old key Death Eaters could recognize him for what he was. She still vividly remembered what they had done the last time he had been caught working for the Light. It was even worse, she supposed, because he had turned to the Americans instead of his own people. A double betrayal. Vesta knew he was only in the business in order to defeat Voldemort, nothing more.

"Realistic? Okay. How's this: she's finally snapped and declared her undying love for Sirius Black, despite how much she bickered with him the entire time they went to school?" Terry suggested. Seeing the look of shock on Vesta's face, he revised, "Fine, not Black, then. How about Lupin? He and Arty seemed to get along rather well."

"Antares..."

Terry turned to look at his wife concernedly. Why was she using the full name? Unless... "Really? She's in a bind about Sirius? Mr. Sirius 'I-Dated-A-Different-Girl-Every-Week-Back-In-My-School-Days' Black? And he just got cleared of the charges that landed him in that godforsaken prison?" Terry surmised in an astonished, skeptical tone.

Vesta stared at her husband. She thought that he knew. "You mean you didn't know?" she asked him, a little surprised. "They were in a long term relationship. Artemesia always thought that he was going to ask her to marry him one day."

"He was that serious about her? Who'd have thought? I certainly thought I would never live to see the day," Terry said with a slight melancholy smile.

As much as she did not want to, Vesta had to remind him, "Technically, you didn't."

The smile melted off of Terry's face as he looked off to the side and replied, "I know."

---

Gemma was having a good summer, she decided one day in July. Luna was visiting frequently, which always made for good times. Also, she and Luna had convinced one of Luna's classmates to go out for dinner that night. Ginny Weasley: a Gryffindor; sister of Ron, Fred, George, Percy, Charlie, and Bill; friend of Hermione Granger and Harry Potter; has potential to be a good Quidditch player. Plus, Ginny was a nice person. After all, she had assented to taking a girls' night out with Gemma and Luna, a brave thing if there ever was one.

Luna had suggested going to the Three Broomsticks because it would be easiest for all three of them to get to. Gemma had insisted on going to Diagon Alley, and Ginny had agreed. There were more places to eat there, and it would still be easy to get there (Luna had been more concerned with the Snarfalumps living in the fireplaces of the alley than anything else.) So Gemma was going to meet Luna outside of Gringotts, at which point they would go to Flourish and Blotts to browse the new releases and wait for Ginny, who was arriving a little later.

Gemma had just told Diana she was leaving and was now making her way to the Tube station. She liked taking the subway. It always gave her time to think. Sure, it was a little strange for a thirteen-year-old to travel alone, but she liked to do it anyway.

One of her hobbies was watching people on the subway. There were always a wide variety of people. A businessman would sit next to a college student would sit next to a salesclerk would sit next to a deliveryman. No one really stood out when Gemma first sat down. There was the (wizard) banker, (Muggle) medical student, Auror Tonks (sporting green hair; Gemma knew her name only because of a conversation between Tonks and another Auror about a month ago,) random teenager of indeterminate magical-ness, and some foreign tourists.

The decidedly nondescript man sitting next to Gemma was attempting to do the daily crossword puzzle in the newspaper. He was not doing all too well. Too many Muggle pop culture references, Gemma decided. It was a little embarrassing. Had he been living under a rock for the past decade? The man filled in a vague literary reference that eliminated the necessity to find the pop culture words. Gemma was a little disappointed. "Do you have any clue what a four letter word for an 'off-the-wall response' would be?" he suddenly asked.

Gemma, although a little startled to be asked, replied, "How about 'echo'?"

"Thanks," he replied. Gemma decided that he was probably a wizard, judging by how Tonks was pretending not to watch him. She turned to look at him and realized why. Well. He had a genuine reason for looking nondescript. It was ironic, to say the least, that she should fail to notice next to whom she was sitting. Who said taking the subway was boring?

"How come you aren't doing the crossword from the Daily Prophet?" she asked, pretending not to notice how the banker suddenly looked at her like she was insane for starting up a conversation. Tonks looked a little confused, too, but Gemma had already learned that Tonks looked confused for a wide variety of things, including fluorescent socks.

"Finished it already," Black replied, half concentrating on the crossword. "The quality has definitely gone down in the past fifteen years. If it gets any worse, I'm getting a subscription for the New York paper. How've you been?"

"It's been a good summer," Gemma replied, for the first time wondering why he would be on the subway. She then realized he would probably ask the same thing of her if she mentioned it. "Congrats on getting cleared," she said. "I told you not to go after the rat."

Black laughed quietly. "Yes, you did, didn't you?" he said, smiling. "Amazing wisdom from an eleven-year-old, that was. Or was it from your friend?"

"Luna sees quite a bit, some of which does not exist," Gemma answered amicably. "But, yes, she said enough. I just put the pieces together and tried to keep Luna's sense of mystery. She has the most interesting way of saying things," Gemma continued, pretending not to notice that Tonks was eavesdropping. And the Metamorphmagus was supposed to be a stealthy Auror?

"I gathered as much," Black mentioned as the train stopped. He looked vaguely amused as Tonks then had what could only be described as a spaz attack as she realized that this was her stop and the train was about to leave. She did make it off, however, after almost tripping because she had not "minded the gap." Gemma tried not to laugh. "She reminds me of my cousin," Black said wryly. He paused for a moment and continued thoughtfully, "Actually, I think she is one of my cousins. She couldn't be Andromeda's daughter, could she?"

"She is Tonks, Auror of a Thousand Hair Styles," Gemma declared.

"Really? Somehow, that's not really surprising," Black said. "An Auror, huh?"

"So... Where are you going?" Gemma, curious, asked him. For some reason, she had never been afraid of him. She figured it was because he still acted like an Auror--always aware of his surroundings, always confident, always amiable, even when he actually felt like being none of them. Besides, she had always had the feeling when she was a first year that there was something just plain wrong about what everyone and the papers had been saying. Professor Lupin had always looked a little torn on the matter, and the story itself had always been a little fishy. But that story had been proven wrong, just like Luna had predicted ("Go to jail; get out of jail free; do collect two-hundred dollars, Mr. Dog.")

"A coffee shop, so I can do some work," Black replied, finally finishing the crossword puzzle. "It's a place near the British Museum; it's run by an old friend, who in all likelihood will not recognize me. I hope." The train stopped again. Black looked up and, turning to Gemma, said, "Well, this is my stop. See you later." He smiled at her and left.

Gemma wondered how everyone could have ever thought that a man like that could ruthlessly murder thirteen innocent people. She decided she would ask Luna.

---

Luna surveyed the collection of new books. Nothing looked interesting. Nothing written by a witch or wizard, anyway. Mostly just romances and dramas and suspense and horror. No true fantasy--why imagine worlds with other magic when there was magic already? She was more interested in the nice, pretty comic books near the rear of the store. Most were Muggle-written, but they seemed to have quite interesting imaginations. Science fiction was fascinating. She could barely contain herself thinking about how people could get by without the aid of magic and what the writers came up with to have them do so. Amazing. Truly amazing. She looked around, her mind drifting. Ooh. Sparkly cover.

It was an Astronomy book. Luna looked at it sideways. Hm. Interesting. Pluto was aligned with Mars, but Neptune was with Venus. Very interesting. Gemma was looking at the newly assigned Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook. It was the one that had been used for a very long time, until the time of Musical Teachers. Luna had read it before. She was glad she had taken Divination and Muggle Studies. Much easier to blend in, become one with the wall. She wished she had a Fledermaus-mobile. "A wide selection, this store has," Luna said.

"Yes, it does," Gemma agreed distantly, still browsing absentmindedly. "I'm glad that they have a section for Muggle-written books. I love it when the illustrations come alive."

Luna silently agreed. She enjoyed the bickering and the dueling and the explosions. Speaking of which, she looked at the Muggle-written new releases. Ah. There. She picked up the paperback novel. It had come out in paperback a year ago, but had been recently published under a wizard press. Luna smiled at the dueling figures on the cover. She wondered why no one fought with swords anymore. It was so much more interesting.

At that moment, Ginny came in the store. She noticed Luna and walked over. "Hello," she hailed them. Luna always found Ginny's hair to be a fascinating color of red. "So, where are we going to go eat?" she asked. Apparently Ginny was just as ready to get away from her brothers as Luna had been to do something other than eat milk and Cheerios sandwiches and as Gemma had been to go out and do something other than studying for the new year.

Gemma replied as Luna stealthily ran over to the comic books, grabbed the books detailing the death and resurrection of the überman. She covertly sprinted back in time before Gemma and Ginny took note of her absence. Luna then noticed something different about Ginny. "What is it that you have been doing this summer, other than being driven up a wall by three immature male family members?" Luna asked. "I detect a particular aura of doom and gloom."

"It's called dust, Luna," Ginny replied patiently. "My brothers and I have been helping my mom clean up this old house." Luna knew that was not all, but she did not press. She would not want to remember loud, cursing paintings, either. She glanced down at the red cape flying in the wind on the cover of the book.

"I must purchase these fine works of literature," Luna said and wandered off once more. Ginny would be staring at her like she was mad, but Luna did not mind. Loony she was and Loony she would be. It was a great fakeout. Pretend to be crazy and become crazy, but keep sensical at all times. Yes. "Constant vigilance," Luna repeated. Good advice--bad advisor. Always a rotten one, the disguiser with lies. Yes. She hid herself with the truth.

The cashier looked somewhat disturbed by Luna as she started laughing to herself and deposited the correct amount of money on the counter. Her three purchases would last for a while, at least until the next Quibbler came out. Hide the truth with the truth. The cashier handed the books back. Luna smiled as if in a dream and wandered over to where Gemma and Ginny were waiting. "I want to fly," Luna decided. "Let us eat."

The evening continued nicely. Ginny, who had previously had very little contact with her fellow Gryffindor, seemed to really like Gemma, who was the only one who could in fact translate what Luna said. Luna knew this. It was not all that strange. Gemma disliked to see the truth at first, so when it was presented in a roundabout fashion, she loved it. She hated the lies, though. Very much. Luna saw that Gemma hated the lies and what terrible untruths were weaved into them. Gemma would make a good Dark Knight.

Ginny was very amicable. Luna wondered if she knew about the Boggart in the drawer. Gemma would not react well to the Boggart this year. "Fear was the mind-killer," Luna had read, "the little death that brought total obliteration." Gemma would survive; she would not fall through the veil. No, the dead would not let her. Luna had qualms about mentioning anything about the future to Gemma. She did understand too well. All too well. She would be Holmes, but Luna did not want to be Watson. Not when havoc would soon be cried, and the dogs of war were ready to be let loose. She would rather be a bird, or preferably a flying fox.

When Luna returned home, her father was reading in his study. "Hello, Daddy. I had a nice night," she said, intently staring at the fireplace. There was a Snarfalump in there. Very dangerous. But her father had it under control. They hated books, and the study was full of them. So many that even an oogle (a unit of measure for Snarfalumps) would not stray in.

"Hello, otter. That's wonderful. Where did you go?" her father asked, still working intently on the next issue of the Quibbler. He was very dedicated to his work. Luna found it encouraging. She missed her mother.

"We went to Flourish and Blotts. I acquired a tome and two sacred texts. We then went to eat at a nice restaurant near the National Galleries," Luna replied. "They had noodles. I had stir-fry and curry. Ginny and Gemma got on famously."

"That's nice, otter. What comic books did you get? I assume you purchased that science fiction novel you've been eyeing for a while," her father continued. Luna had to revise her earlier thought. Her father understood her very well. He thought her interest in everything was a very good trait for whatever she went into. Luna supposed she would either follow in one of her parent's footsteps. Either one would suit her.

"The chronicles of the fall and rise of the most super one," Luna replied.

"I'm glad you had a nice night out with your friends, otter," her father said with a smile. "It's getting late. You should probably go to sleep soon. We'll go buy your school supplies tomorrow if I finish editing tonight. Goodnight, otter."

"Night-night, Daddy," Luna replied. She looked at the bust of Athena on the shelf near the door. She smiled at the stuffed raven next to it. Her father used it to keep deadlines.

---

Tonks was a little weirded out. Her day had gone from funky to downright crazy. First, she had decided to make her hair lime green. That was somewhat normal. When she had boarded the subway to get to work, she had somehow ended up sitting across from the uncannily perceptive teenager yet again, never mind the man sitting next to the girl. The one doing the crossword. Tonks felt like hitting herself yet again. This was how her day started off strange. She, being an Auror, should be able to blend into a crowd, not stick out like a sore thumb. However...

Tonks supposed it was just her lot in life. She would be the black sheep of the Aurors. The rookie who was continuously noticed by a schoolgirl and could not even identify her first-cousin, once removed, while sitting five feet away from him. Pathetic! Sure, he was making an effort to blend in, but the most surreal part of the morning had been when the two had struck up a conversation. A somewhat disturbing combination: hawkeyed teenager and former prisoner of Azkaban. She was so distracted that she almost missed her stop and had tripped out of the train, a result of failing to mind the gap, as the irritatingly patient voice warned over a loudspeaker.

She had gone to work, and that experience was hunky-dory, until, of course, she fell down the stairs. Kingsley found it all too amusing as he escorted her to the nearest medwitch or medwizard. Mr. Weasley made the wise decision not to comment as Tonks limped past him in the halls. She would be forced to explain later, at the Order of the Phoenix meeting. She would probably admit to the failure to mind the gap rather than the falling down the stairs.

Near the end of the day, she had received a note from Dumbledore, passed to her via Kingsley. It read, "12 Grimmauld Place." She recognized the address. She wondered why it was in green ink and why Kingsley destroyed the note after she read it. Then she realized the significance. It was the new headquarters for the Order. It was a brilliant idea, but she was a little hesitant to set foot in the house that her mother had scared her with in lieu of the boogey man. She realized that it also meant that she would be seeing quite a bit more of her cousin. Lovely. Everyone would know about her falling out of the train, and then Dumbledore would remind everyone about the scar he had that was shaped exactly like a map of the Underground. It was going to be a long night, Tonks knew.

When she and Kingsley arrived for the Order meeting, Tonks had made the mistake of ringing the doorbell, which caused Mrs. Weasley, who opened the door, to be in less than a chipper mood. Tonks' cousin was glaring daggers at the undeniably loud Portrait from Hell and telling it to shut up. She suddenly wondered where he was living and immediately decided that he probably was not living there. There was a fine layer of dust on everything, except for in the room where the meeting would be taking place. There, everything was spotless. There was a pile of books and papers at the table near one of the chairs farthest from the door. It looked like stuff for Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. Good times, Tonks reminisced.

She stopped midstep. There were very few people in the building, if the dust was any clue, so whoever was the new teacher was already there. Tonks sat down near the end of the table and waited for the end of the world. Her cousin walked in and resumed making the lesson plans. Tonks decided that her day was officially the Most Bizarre Day Ever in the Sovereign Realm of Tonks' Mind (and the affiliated territories.) Luckily, her cousin remained silent, and they both sat there, waiting for everyone else to arrive. Kingsley and Mrs. Weasley were talking about this and that outside. Mrs. Weasley was apparently horrified at the state of the house. Slowly but surely, the Order trickled into the room.

And then her day went straight to Hell. Sure, the Order business was not happy stuff, but that was irrelevant for the moment. (It would be relevant once she was out of the room.) No, it was terrible what happened. It was horrible! Horrible, Tonks would tell you! Her cousin (curse him) told Remus about her episode in the subway. Her life was over.

Tonks felt like hiding in a closet and never coming out when she realized that her cousin was continuing to say embarrassing things about her to Remus. How did she know, you ask? Because Remus was looking progressively flustered, and Tonks' cousin had one of those annoying grins on his face. Tonks really wished she were somewhere else, deep space perhaps. Yes: in space, no one would hear her scream. Now, what exactly were movie-poster catchphrases doing in her head at a time like this?

---

Sirius was glad to be out of that house. It brought back too many memories, most of which he would have rather kept forgotten. He would have to continue to visit over the course of the summer, if only to sort out what miscellaneous items would be thrown out and what would be saved. He also had to make sure some rooms were locked. They were better off locked, for everyone's sakes. And those terrible portraits! Why could his mother not shut up? He fleetingly wondered what had happened to the family portrait. It did not matter. His parents probably commissioned another after he was disowned.

The one bright spot of the evening had been teasing Remus. It was quite amusing that Remus had completely been ignorant of the fact that Tonks had adopted a look of righteous indignation when Sirius had started talking to him about said cousin. Of course, this realization had caused Sirius to wonder if Remus had dated at all in the past decade or so. It was yet another item to add to the list of Why Remus Needs To Lighten Up (established 1971.)

Unfortunately, that train of thought led Sirius to a path he did not want to go down. Hence why he was back in his apartment, staring sullenly at the wall opposite the couch. He thought about the few months shortly before that Halloween. About his idiot kid brother. About why and when he was officially disowned. About how he caused James and Lily's deaths. About that betrayal. About how stupid and impulsive he had been. He had failed everyone. Everyone.