Paradox, Part 2
Jul. 11th, 2005 09:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pandora_culpaA little more set up, and a three-way conversation that was quite fun to write.
Title: Paradox
Dramatis Personae: Tonks, Remus, Mad Eye Moody
Scene rating: PG
Dumbledore’s death changed everything.
In the days following his demise there was a strained silence that seemed to hang over Britain, as the realization sunk in that the only wizard that the Dark Lord Voldemort had ever feared was gone. Although classes were still held in the usual manner and the school year continued apace for all the students of Hogwarts, the professors were unusually snappish and fearful. Around the school, all the typical chaos and nervous energy of the wizarding world had ceased, even the officials at the Ministry pausing, the chattering bureaucracy sobering as the finality of their loss registered. And although Rita Skeeter wrote her usual scathing commentary on the situation (Dumbledore Finally Falls Flat), for once no one bothered to read it.
However, behind closed doors, certain activities only accelerated.
Loss couldn’t even begin to describe the mood at 12 Grimmauld Place. After he was laid to rest on the day following the ill-fated Quidditch match, members of the Order of the Phoenix trickled in and out of the old House of Black. Some sought comfort from others, some had come to try and adjust old plans to account for the devastating blow that had been dealt; others simply needed to get away, for at least a time, from the world that pushed onward without Albus Dumbledore, inexorable and undeniable.
Sighing gustily, his pale face tired and drawn, Remus Lupin said for what must have been the twentieth time, “It wasn’t your fault.”
He was sitting on an ottoman close to the couch where Tonks was curled, having stolen the footstool from Mad Eye Moody, who was seated on the matching armchair. The old wizard lifted his eyebrows when Remus spoke, but offered no agreement or dissent to the statement.
Tonks uncurled her legs from beneath her to twist around and face the haggard-looking man. “Well, someone has to take the blame. It might as well be me; I was there. I couldn’t stop it, and I should have.”
“No one can say for certain that you could have prevented this. I’m sure Dumbledore himself would have been the first to say that.”
“And it’s my fault that he isn’t here to say that.”
Remus sighed again. “Accidents happen, Tonks, even to Aurors. You said that there was some Dark Magic afoot that day…”
“And I’m a trained Auror, Remus. Face it- I failed to do my job.” Tonks flopped backward on the cushions, looking almost bored as she stared up at the ceiling. “And because I failed, Dumbledore is dead.”
Remus shook his head in dismay, glancing over to where Moody sat silently, as he had all evening. “A little help here would be appreciated!” he snapped, and the old man turned his mismatched gaze on the werewolf.
“Help with what?” the Auror rasped. “You both seem to have a fine handle on the situation.”
“It’s not her fault,” Remus repeated stubbornly.
Taking a hefty swig from his flask, Moody nodded. “The Death Eaters who designed this trap are responsible for Dumbledore’s death.”
“That’s right,” Remus sounded encouraged, but Moody was continuing.
“It also falls to any Auror to protect those around them when criminal acts are being perpetrated. Failure isn’t an option for us.” The old Auror took another nip from the flask while Remus looked on disgustedly, and Tonks waved a hand as if to say, I told you so.
“She did everything she could,” Remus insisted, doggedly clinging to his viewpoint. “No one has blamed her for being unable to save him.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Tonks’ voice was unnaturally flat and emotionless. “Blame, I could take. But it doesn’t bring him back, does it? And that’s what we need. Remus, what is the Order going to do now that he’s gone?”
The werewolf looked over at Moody again, but the old man had withdrawn back into his private thoughts and offered nothing. Hunching his shoulders, he answered in a low voice, “I don’t think anyone really knows yet. Arthur, Minerva and Severus are trying to salvage the broader plans, but Dumbledore was always a few steps ahead of the rest of us. We’re just not sure what his intentions were in some cases.”
Tonks nodded distractedly; it was much as she had assumed. The Order had already started to feel like it was unraveling slowly, like a sweater that had snagged on a nail. It was only ragged on the edges now, but soon it would be useless if it wasn’t mended. And she couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow, she could have prevented this crisis.
“What about the bludgers?” she asked.
“Madame Hooch caught them. They were enchanted, naturally, but that was already obvious. We couldn’t track who had done the job, but it was Dark Magic without a doubt. Which means that you were right in your guess that Death Eaters were involved.”
“And Harry?”
Remus paused, his expression strained. “He’ll be fine,” he said finally. “He’s quite upset, of course, about Dumbledore, but Hogwarts is still the most protected place he could be without raising too many questions. He’s practically under Minerva’s nose there, and when he’s not, he has Ron and Hermione keeping an eye on him.” Moody snorted loudly, and the younger man cast a sharp look at him. “It’s better than nothing,” he insisted. “And it’s not as though those two haven’t faced danger before.”
“The more eyes, the better,” Moody acceded. “But I’d feel better about it if they had more knowledge at their disposal. Experience is the best insurance.”
“They’re getting that experience now, Mad Eye.” Tonks rolled over to look at him. “What’s the word from the Ministry?”
“No word. Fudge hasn’t released any official statement about it, and frankly I don’t much care what that popinjay has to say about it. The fool hasn’t heeded a warning we gave him yet, so I wouldn’t expect him to have any concept of what he’s lost. What we’ve all lost. Now lass, don’t start again,” he said, as Tonks’ face clouded. “I’m not blaming you, despite what Remus here thinks. We’ve all got our regrets, but that time is past. I’d advise you to start thinking about the future, because it’s going to be here sooner than is comfortable for any of us.”
With that he rose, stretching with a limberness that belied his age, and pocketed his flask. “Myself, I’m off to the office,” he told them. “You ought to get some sleep.”
Remus looked somewhat relieved at the suggestion, but Tonks stared at the other Auror with confusion. “Why are you going back to the Ministry?” she asked. “If there’s no official word…”
“… then there must be some unofficial explanation for the lack. We need more information about what’s going on, now more than ever. I’ll be back soon enough, with that information.” A gnarled finger pointed at her, and Moody’s wheeling magical eye focused on her face briefly before spinning away again. “Get rested, so that you’ll be ready for whatever comes next.”
He stumped off, and for a moment Tonks wished that she could accompany him. That she might subsume her guilt in action. But he was right; she’d been awake for more than thirty six hours and if she wanted to be of any use at all she needed sleep. Remus, too, looked even more worn than usual; meeting her eyes, he gave her a rueful half-smile.
“We’d better do as he says,” he remarked quietly, rising to his feet as well. “There’s a lot that needs to be tackled in the next week or so.”
“Without Dumbledore,” Tonks murmured almost inaudibly, and waved away the inquiring look he tossed her. But she allowed herself to be helped to her feet, and to be escorted to her room where Remus left her with a whispered goodnight.
Alone in the dark room, Tonks hurriedly undressed and climbed into the gigantic four-poster that took up nearly half the ample bedroom. A simple spell drew the draperies around it and she curled up in a ball, pulling the blanket up to her chin. A few minutes passed where all she concentrated on was the steady drumming of her heart and the pace of her breath, but soon something else was insinuated into her thoughts. More subtle than before, almost as though diluted, came the sensation of wrongness, pulsing in time with each beat of her heart. It whispered in and out on the fringes of her consciousness, just beyond her recognition, and when she finally did slip into a fitful slumber there was no rest in it, for it was filled with dreams that were dark and anxious.
~*~*~
Title: Paradox
Dramatis Personae: Tonks, Remus, Mad Eye Moody
Scene rating: PG
Dumbledore’s death changed everything.
In the days following his demise there was a strained silence that seemed to hang over Britain, as the realization sunk in that the only wizard that the Dark Lord Voldemort had ever feared was gone. Although classes were still held in the usual manner and the school year continued apace for all the students of Hogwarts, the professors were unusually snappish and fearful. Around the school, all the typical chaos and nervous energy of the wizarding world had ceased, even the officials at the Ministry pausing, the chattering bureaucracy sobering as the finality of their loss registered. And although Rita Skeeter wrote her usual scathing commentary on the situation (Dumbledore Finally Falls Flat), for once no one bothered to read it.
However, behind closed doors, certain activities only accelerated.
Loss couldn’t even begin to describe the mood at 12 Grimmauld Place. After he was laid to rest on the day following the ill-fated Quidditch match, members of the Order of the Phoenix trickled in and out of the old House of Black. Some sought comfort from others, some had come to try and adjust old plans to account for the devastating blow that had been dealt; others simply needed to get away, for at least a time, from the world that pushed onward without Albus Dumbledore, inexorable and undeniable.
Sighing gustily, his pale face tired and drawn, Remus Lupin said for what must have been the twentieth time, “It wasn’t your fault.”
He was sitting on an ottoman close to the couch where Tonks was curled, having stolen the footstool from Mad Eye Moody, who was seated on the matching armchair. The old wizard lifted his eyebrows when Remus spoke, but offered no agreement or dissent to the statement.
Tonks uncurled her legs from beneath her to twist around and face the haggard-looking man. “Well, someone has to take the blame. It might as well be me; I was there. I couldn’t stop it, and I should have.”
“No one can say for certain that you could have prevented this. I’m sure Dumbledore himself would have been the first to say that.”
“And it’s my fault that he isn’t here to say that.”
Remus sighed again. “Accidents happen, Tonks, even to Aurors. You said that there was some Dark Magic afoot that day…”
“And I’m a trained Auror, Remus. Face it- I failed to do my job.” Tonks flopped backward on the cushions, looking almost bored as she stared up at the ceiling. “And because I failed, Dumbledore is dead.”
Remus shook his head in dismay, glancing over to where Moody sat silently, as he had all evening. “A little help here would be appreciated!” he snapped, and the old man turned his mismatched gaze on the werewolf.
“Help with what?” the Auror rasped. “You both seem to have a fine handle on the situation.”
“It’s not her fault,” Remus repeated stubbornly.
Taking a hefty swig from his flask, Moody nodded. “The Death Eaters who designed this trap are responsible for Dumbledore’s death.”
“That’s right,” Remus sounded encouraged, but Moody was continuing.
“It also falls to any Auror to protect those around them when criminal acts are being perpetrated. Failure isn’t an option for us.” The old Auror took another nip from the flask while Remus looked on disgustedly, and Tonks waved a hand as if to say, I told you so.
“She did everything she could,” Remus insisted, doggedly clinging to his viewpoint. “No one has blamed her for being unable to save him.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Tonks’ voice was unnaturally flat and emotionless. “Blame, I could take. But it doesn’t bring him back, does it? And that’s what we need. Remus, what is the Order going to do now that he’s gone?”
The werewolf looked over at Moody again, but the old man had withdrawn back into his private thoughts and offered nothing. Hunching his shoulders, he answered in a low voice, “I don’t think anyone really knows yet. Arthur, Minerva and Severus are trying to salvage the broader plans, but Dumbledore was always a few steps ahead of the rest of us. We’re just not sure what his intentions were in some cases.”
Tonks nodded distractedly; it was much as she had assumed. The Order had already started to feel like it was unraveling slowly, like a sweater that had snagged on a nail. It was only ragged on the edges now, but soon it would be useless if it wasn’t mended. And she couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow, she could have prevented this crisis.
“What about the bludgers?” she asked.
“Madame Hooch caught them. They were enchanted, naturally, but that was already obvious. We couldn’t track who had done the job, but it was Dark Magic without a doubt. Which means that you were right in your guess that Death Eaters were involved.”
“And Harry?”
Remus paused, his expression strained. “He’ll be fine,” he said finally. “He’s quite upset, of course, about Dumbledore, but Hogwarts is still the most protected place he could be without raising too many questions. He’s practically under Minerva’s nose there, and when he’s not, he has Ron and Hermione keeping an eye on him.” Moody snorted loudly, and the younger man cast a sharp look at him. “It’s better than nothing,” he insisted. “And it’s not as though those two haven’t faced danger before.”
“The more eyes, the better,” Moody acceded. “But I’d feel better about it if they had more knowledge at their disposal. Experience is the best insurance.”
“They’re getting that experience now, Mad Eye.” Tonks rolled over to look at him. “What’s the word from the Ministry?”
“No word. Fudge hasn’t released any official statement about it, and frankly I don’t much care what that popinjay has to say about it. The fool hasn’t heeded a warning we gave him yet, so I wouldn’t expect him to have any concept of what he’s lost. What we’ve all lost. Now lass, don’t start again,” he said, as Tonks’ face clouded. “I’m not blaming you, despite what Remus here thinks. We’ve all got our regrets, but that time is past. I’d advise you to start thinking about the future, because it’s going to be here sooner than is comfortable for any of us.”
With that he rose, stretching with a limberness that belied his age, and pocketed his flask. “Myself, I’m off to the office,” he told them. “You ought to get some sleep.”
Remus looked somewhat relieved at the suggestion, but Tonks stared at the other Auror with confusion. “Why are you going back to the Ministry?” she asked. “If there’s no official word…”
“… then there must be some unofficial explanation for the lack. We need more information about what’s going on, now more than ever. I’ll be back soon enough, with that information.” A gnarled finger pointed at her, and Moody’s wheeling magical eye focused on her face briefly before spinning away again. “Get rested, so that you’ll be ready for whatever comes next.”
He stumped off, and for a moment Tonks wished that she could accompany him. That she might subsume her guilt in action. But he was right; she’d been awake for more than thirty six hours and if she wanted to be of any use at all she needed sleep. Remus, too, looked even more worn than usual; meeting her eyes, he gave her a rueful half-smile.
“We’d better do as he says,” he remarked quietly, rising to his feet as well. “There’s a lot that needs to be tackled in the next week or so.”
“Without Dumbledore,” Tonks murmured almost inaudibly, and waved away the inquiring look he tossed her. But she allowed herself to be helped to her feet, and to be escorted to her room where Remus left her with a whispered goodnight.
Alone in the dark room, Tonks hurriedly undressed and climbed into the gigantic four-poster that took up nearly half the ample bedroom. A simple spell drew the draperies around it and she curled up in a ball, pulling the blanket up to her chin. A few minutes passed where all she concentrated on was the steady drumming of her heart and the pace of her breath, but soon something else was insinuated into her thoughts. More subtle than before, almost as though diluted, came the sensation of wrongness, pulsing in time with each beat of her heart. It whispered in and out on the fringes of her consciousness, just beyond her recognition, and when she finally did slip into a fitful slumber there was no rest in it, for it was filled with dreams that were dark and anxious.
