Paradox, Part 3
Jul. 11th, 2005 09:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pandora_culpaNow things begin to get interesting. And confusing.
Title: Paradox
Dramatis Personae: Tonks, various Weasleys, Mad Eye Moody, Remus
Scene Rating: PG
She woke early, before the sun had yet risen, and for a moment or two Tonks had to think hard to remember where she was and what had happened. Staying over at Grimmauld, the endless, futile discussions the night before as to the Order’s next move, the sense of dread that clung to every person who came through the house… she shook her head, wishing that she could return to the state of ignorance she had awoken into. But once awake she couldn’t go back to sleep, and with only a token groan of resistance Tonks clambered from her bed and began haphazardly pulling on clothes.
When she finally staggered down the steps and into the kitchen, half of the Weasleys were there to greet her. Molly was wielding a spatula over a frying pan, poking sausages and ham slices while directing Arthur’s attempts to fry up pancakes. Fred and George were obviously supposed to be setting the table, but the task had degenerated into a melee of silverware and dishes reenacting a famous battle from the third Goblin War. The cutlery appeared to be winning.
“Good morning Tonks!” Molly beamed brightly at her as she flicked her wand at the oven door, which swung open as two loaves of bread flew out and dropped neatly onto the cooling racks. “Hurry up and take a seat. I imagine that there’ll be quite the crowd here soon. Fred! George!” Without pause she rounded on the twins, hands planted firmly on her hips. “If I see another spoon so much as twitch, I’ll bring in the heavy artillery.” She gave the heavy iron skillet a thump on the hob for emphasis.
The two young men exchanged glances, then snapped to attention, throwing her a swift yet precise salute. “Yes sir, Sergeant Mum, sir.”
“That’s General Mum to you lot. Now dear,” she continued, turning a smiling face back to Tonks. “why are you still standing around? Go, sit.” She gently shooed the younger woman over to the table, where the twins were diligently sending the table settings back to their proper places. Bemused, Tonks slipped into a chair, and Fred sent her plate wheeling down the table to settle with a clatter before her.
“Sorry,” he grinned. “Silverware will be along shortly.”
“Rascals, aren’t they?” A long, freckled arm reached past her shoulder to place a glass of orange juice beside her plate, and Tonks twisted to look up into the laughing eyes of Charlie Weasley. He grinned, making a small burn scar on his cheek pucker slightly. “Bill and I were never so unmanageable.”
Despite the heaviness in her heart, Tonks smiled back. “Right. I’m sure that Fred and George didn’t have any examples to learn from. Or anything to perhaps get even for…”
Charlie’s grin didn’t slip a notch. “Not a one,” he said cheerily. “They’re just pure rotten, through and through.” Tonks laughed as Fred harrumphed indignantly, though the look that George gave his brother was speculative.
“So the time that you and Bill were ‘watching us’, and tied me and Fred to Dad’s broom so you could nick some of the biscuits Mum had made…”
“…and we ended up drifting over Surrey because you forgot to secure the broom…” Fred sent the silverware dancing down to the appropriate places as he picked up the tale.
“…so that was all altruism on your part, was it?” George flipped his wand at the table, and napkins fluttered to each plate.
His older brother winked at Tonks, setting down more glasses of juice and tea around the table. “It was a learning experience,” he said staunchly, and Tonks had to stifle the giggle that wanted to sneak out at the twins’ identical expressions of skeptical mirth.
About that time a clatter on the stairs heralded the arrival of several other Order members. Kingsley, Hestia and Sturgis all filed into the room, Mundungus Fletcher skulking along behind them and muttering about not being allowed to smoke his pipe in the house. Other folk followed them until nearly all of the Order was present, crowding around the table or balancing plates of food while they stood and chatted in hushed tones. Chewing on a piece of bacon, Tonks searched the crowd but soon realized that neither Remus nor Moody was among those gathered. Sighing regretfully, she turned her attention back to Arthur, who seemed ready to open the meeting. Maybe they were just late in arriving. She hoped that was so; there were many questions she still had, as well as wanting to know what Moody had discovered last night at the Ministry.
Once everyone had gathered and the hum of conversation had dulled, Arthur stood and began to call the meeting to order. Tonks listened to him with only half her attention, the rest of her mind drifting to vague worries about the future. Despite the circumstances, there was little out of the ordinary about the proceedings; the basic reports from Snape and other field agents, the duty roster for various watches, and special assignments- those generally for strategic objectives. It wasn’t until he mentioned those assignments that an alarm went off in her head, and she coughed nervously.
“Sorry,” she said, “but did you just say that I’ve been moved off the Hogwarts watch rotation?”
Rustling the parchments before him, Arthur found the appropriate one and nodded. “Yes, you’re going to be working more with Moody’s team.” Eyeing her curiously, he added, “Is there some problem with that?”
She grimaced. “No… but I’d thought we were going to keep to Dumbledore’s decisions for the time being. He was rather specific about who he wanted there, and why.”
Arthur shrugged, slipping the parchment back into the pile and selecting a new one. “Well, it was his decision. At least, that’s what he told me he thought should be done. Now Kingsley…”
Tonks blinked, staring at Arthur in shock. “But-“
“Is there a problem?” Snape hissed and she turned her head to see the dour man seated a little further down the table. “By all means, we want you understand your tasks, but some of us have obligations this morning and don’t wish to tarry in this miserable residence.” His voice carried a scornful sneer and one pale hand tapped the table impatiently, while he glared at her over his hooked nose.
Arthur was watching her expectantly, as were most of the other people in the room, and with the weight of all those eyes upon her she retreated in confusion. Shaking her head, she murmured something that must have translated, nevermind, go ahead, for Arthur resumed his recitation of the roster and finally some of the attention shifted away.
Her cheeks were hot with embarrassment, but bewilderment dominated any shame she felt for the unwanted attention. Why would Arthur change the duty roster? Moody always told her ahead of time when her duties were going to change, but he’d never mentioned it the night before. Somewhere in her mind, a warning bell was sounding, but she wasn’t sure she entirely trusted the intuition.
Last night was a wake, more or less. It’s no wonder that even old Mad Eye might forget to tell me about something as trivial as a change like this. I suppose that really, it would be more surprising if he had remembered.
Despite the logic in that rationalization, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t quite convince herself of it. For anyone else, the death of a close friend would have been more than enough excuse for oversight. But this was Alastor Moody, and he’d be three days dead before he missed a detail relating to his responsibilities.
While she mulled the incongruity of this, the meeting adjourned with much clattering of plates and cutlery, the witches and wizards sending their plates to the sink as they filed out to begin their mornings. Tonks sat still, waiting until the crowd had dispersed and then slowly got up from the table. Talk and laughter still echoed from the stair as she watched the last few people exit the kitchen until only she, Molly and the twins remained. A frown tugged down at one corner of her mouth, and Tonks’ face twisted a little as she fought the expression smooth.
It’s like no one cares that he’s dead, she thought with rancor, jerking her wand at several empty platters and directing them to the sink with a sharp gesture. They wobbled madly across the room, lurching drunkenly toward the sink until Molly stepped in and took over.
“Thank you Tonks, but I’ve got everything under control. Just a small spot of tidying to do, won’t take any time at all...”
Still talking, she took Tonks by the arm and led her over to the stair, Fred and George chortling and shooting her envious gazes from over their mother’s back. Tonks felt low enough by then that she didn’t even put up a token protest, but simply allowed the red haired woman to propel her to the foot of the stairs and up the first two.
“Thanks for the offer, dear,” Molly called up after her.
Stomping up the stairs in her heavy boots and not even bothering to mask the sound, Tonks shrugged irritably. The feeling of wrongness had returned like a bitter taste, fouling a mood that had gone into a steady decline since the meeting. She was so caught up in her thoughts that she almost plowed straight into Moody, just opening the door at the top of the stairs.
“Watch your step, girl,” he growled, not unkindly. “These stairs wouldn’t be the best place for one of your spills.”
“I’m fine, Mad Eye,” she said, relief washing over her at his appearance. “What’s the news from the Ministry?”
He gave her a peculiar look. “Nothing to report. Englebrook is convinced that he’s got Sirius Black penned in somewhere near the East End, but we already know that’s bollocks.” He started to slip past her, his blue magical Eye rolling frantically in its socket, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“That’s not what I meant,” she insisted. “Is there something you aren’t telling me?”
“Aye,” he replied without hesitation. “There’s plenty of things I don’t tell you. But pertaining to your question, no. There’s nothing afoot at the Ministry. Unless you know or suspect something I don’t?” The question was left hanging, his bland expression still managing to express irony at the comment as well as a certain hungry anticipation for a mystery he hadn’t yet sussed.
“No, I had just wondered… after last night… say, Mad Eye? Why didn’t you tell me that I was going to be moved to your team?” Tonks eyed him keenly, the question she had just been pondering suddenly bubbling forth.
Once again he gave her an odd, studying look. “I did tell you,” he rasped. “Twice, in fact.” His Eye swiveled to examine her with its passionless gaze, and the old Auror grunted. “I think you need to start getting more rest. It’s playing with your memory.” And with that, he stumped down the stairs, the clunking of his wooden leg echoing hollowly in the narrow stairwell, while Tonks stared after him.
The ache in her head was starting to become distracting. Rubbing her temples, she muttered, “Maybe he’s right. I’m not feeling like myself at all.” With a sigh, she pushed open the door and stepped out into the hallway.
As she turned to head for the lounge, light split the room and a cold breeze skirled about her ankles. Spinning back around she saw Remus bustling through the front door, bundled in a threadbare coat and several scarves, and still looking frozen to the bone. He closed the large door quickly, resetting the wards in hoarse, tired tones, and then sagged back against it with his eyes closed.
“Remus?” she said uncertainly, taking a step closer, and his eyes flared open at his name.
“Is Mad Eye here?” he asked, and even the exhaustion evident in his voice couldn’t disguise the urgency in his question. Quickly nodding an affirmative, Tonks hastened to help him over to the basement stairs, biting her tongue to keep from pestering him for his news.
“He just went down a moment ago, probably to get some breakfast; Merlin knows we had plenty left over. Come on; you look like you need a plate too while you give him your message.”
Remus let her tow him along, his expression grim. “It isn’t good,” he said, following her down the stairs. “It isn’t good at all.”
Her heart beat an anxious tattoo at his word, but Tonks took a couple quick breaths and hurried for the warm light at the bottom of the steps. Of course it wouldn’t be good; what had been good since Dumbledore was killed? But panic was inimical to her character, and wouldn’t help besides, so she set her mind resolutely toward solving whatever trouble Remus had come upon. By the time they stepped into the kitchen, she felt almost optimistic.
That is, until she saw that the kitchen was utterly empty.
~*~*~
Title: Paradox
Dramatis Personae: Tonks, various Weasleys, Mad Eye Moody, Remus
Scene Rating: PG
She woke early, before the sun had yet risen, and for a moment or two Tonks had to think hard to remember where she was and what had happened. Staying over at Grimmauld, the endless, futile discussions the night before as to the Order’s next move, the sense of dread that clung to every person who came through the house… she shook her head, wishing that she could return to the state of ignorance she had awoken into. But once awake she couldn’t go back to sleep, and with only a token groan of resistance Tonks clambered from her bed and began haphazardly pulling on clothes.
When she finally staggered down the steps and into the kitchen, half of the Weasleys were there to greet her. Molly was wielding a spatula over a frying pan, poking sausages and ham slices while directing Arthur’s attempts to fry up pancakes. Fred and George were obviously supposed to be setting the table, but the task had degenerated into a melee of silverware and dishes reenacting a famous battle from the third Goblin War. The cutlery appeared to be winning.
“Good morning Tonks!” Molly beamed brightly at her as she flicked her wand at the oven door, which swung open as two loaves of bread flew out and dropped neatly onto the cooling racks. “Hurry up and take a seat. I imagine that there’ll be quite the crowd here soon. Fred! George!” Without pause she rounded on the twins, hands planted firmly on her hips. “If I see another spoon so much as twitch, I’ll bring in the heavy artillery.” She gave the heavy iron skillet a thump on the hob for emphasis.
The two young men exchanged glances, then snapped to attention, throwing her a swift yet precise salute. “Yes sir, Sergeant Mum, sir.”
“That’s General Mum to you lot. Now dear,” she continued, turning a smiling face back to Tonks. “why are you still standing around? Go, sit.” She gently shooed the younger woman over to the table, where the twins were diligently sending the table settings back to their proper places. Bemused, Tonks slipped into a chair, and Fred sent her plate wheeling down the table to settle with a clatter before her.
“Sorry,” he grinned. “Silverware will be along shortly.”
“Rascals, aren’t they?” A long, freckled arm reached past her shoulder to place a glass of orange juice beside her plate, and Tonks twisted to look up into the laughing eyes of Charlie Weasley. He grinned, making a small burn scar on his cheek pucker slightly. “Bill and I were never so unmanageable.”
Despite the heaviness in her heart, Tonks smiled back. “Right. I’m sure that Fred and George didn’t have any examples to learn from. Or anything to perhaps get even for…”
Charlie’s grin didn’t slip a notch. “Not a one,” he said cheerily. “They’re just pure rotten, through and through.” Tonks laughed as Fred harrumphed indignantly, though the look that George gave his brother was speculative.
“So the time that you and Bill were ‘watching us’, and tied me and Fred to Dad’s broom so you could nick some of the biscuits Mum had made…”
“…and we ended up drifting over Surrey because you forgot to secure the broom…” Fred sent the silverware dancing down to the appropriate places as he picked up the tale.
“…so that was all altruism on your part, was it?” George flipped his wand at the table, and napkins fluttered to each plate.
His older brother winked at Tonks, setting down more glasses of juice and tea around the table. “It was a learning experience,” he said staunchly, and Tonks had to stifle the giggle that wanted to sneak out at the twins’ identical expressions of skeptical mirth.
About that time a clatter on the stairs heralded the arrival of several other Order members. Kingsley, Hestia and Sturgis all filed into the room, Mundungus Fletcher skulking along behind them and muttering about not being allowed to smoke his pipe in the house. Other folk followed them until nearly all of the Order was present, crowding around the table or balancing plates of food while they stood and chatted in hushed tones. Chewing on a piece of bacon, Tonks searched the crowd but soon realized that neither Remus nor Moody was among those gathered. Sighing regretfully, she turned her attention back to Arthur, who seemed ready to open the meeting. Maybe they were just late in arriving. She hoped that was so; there were many questions she still had, as well as wanting to know what Moody had discovered last night at the Ministry.
Once everyone had gathered and the hum of conversation had dulled, Arthur stood and began to call the meeting to order. Tonks listened to him with only half her attention, the rest of her mind drifting to vague worries about the future. Despite the circumstances, there was little out of the ordinary about the proceedings; the basic reports from Snape and other field agents, the duty roster for various watches, and special assignments- those generally for strategic objectives. It wasn’t until he mentioned those assignments that an alarm went off in her head, and she coughed nervously.
“Sorry,” she said, “but did you just say that I’ve been moved off the Hogwarts watch rotation?”
Rustling the parchments before him, Arthur found the appropriate one and nodded. “Yes, you’re going to be working more with Moody’s team.” Eyeing her curiously, he added, “Is there some problem with that?”
She grimaced. “No… but I’d thought we were going to keep to Dumbledore’s decisions for the time being. He was rather specific about who he wanted there, and why.”
Arthur shrugged, slipping the parchment back into the pile and selecting a new one. “Well, it was his decision. At least, that’s what he told me he thought should be done. Now Kingsley…”
Tonks blinked, staring at Arthur in shock. “But-“
“Is there a problem?” Snape hissed and she turned her head to see the dour man seated a little further down the table. “By all means, we want you understand your tasks, but some of us have obligations this morning and don’t wish to tarry in this miserable residence.” His voice carried a scornful sneer and one pale hand tapped the table impatiently, while he glared at her over his hooked nose.
Arthur was watching her expectantly, as were most of the other people in the room, and with the weight of all those eyes upon her she retreated in confusion. Shaking her head, she murmured something that must have translated, nevermind, go ahead, for Arthur resumed his recitation of the roster and finally some of the attention shifted away.
Her cheeks were hot with embarrassment, but bewilderment dominated any shame she felt for the unwanted attention. Why would Arthur change the duty roster? Moody always told her ahead of time when her duties were going to change, but he’d never mentioned it the night before. Somewhere in her mind, a warning bell was sounding, but she wasn’t sure she entirely trusted the intuition.
Last night was a wake, more or less. It’s no wonder that even old Mad Eye might forget to tell me about something as trivial as a change like this. I suppose that really, it would be more surprising if he had remembered.
Despite the logic in that rationalization, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t quite convince herself of it. For anyone else, the death of a close friend would have been more than enough excuse for oversight. But this was Alastor Moody, and he’d be three days dead before he missed a detail relating to his responsibilities.
While she mulled the incongruity of this, the meeting adjourned with much clattering of plates and cutlery, the witches and wizards sending their plates to the sink as they filed out to begin their mornings. Tonks sat still, waiting until the crowd had dispersed and then slowly got up from the table. Talk and laughter still echoed from the stair as she watched the last few people exit the kitchen until only she, Molly and the twins remained. A frown tugged down at one corner of her mouth, and Tonks’ face twisted a little as she fought the expression smooth.
It’s like no one cares that he’s dead, she thought with rancor, jerking her wand at several empty platters and directing them to the sink with a sharp gesture. They wobbled madly across the room, lurching drunkenly toward the sink until Molly stepped in and took over.
“Thank you Tonks, but I’ve got everything under control. Just a small spot of tidying to do, won’t take any time at all...”
Still talking, she took Tonks by the arm and led her over to the stair, Fred and George chortling and shooting her envious gazes from over their mother’s back. Tonks felt low enough by then that she didn’t even put up a token protest, but simply allowed the red haired woman to propel her to the foot of the stairs and up the first two.
“Thanks for the offer, dear,” Molly called up after her.
Stomping up the stairs in her heavy boots and not even bothering to mask the sound, Tonks shrugged irritably. The feeling of wrongness had returned like a bitter taste, fouling a mood that had gone into a steady decline since the meeting. She was so caught up in her thoughts that she almost plowed straight into Moody, just opening the door at the top of the stairs.
“Watch your step, girl,” he growled, not unkindly. “These stairs wouldn’t be the best place for one of your spills.”
“I’m fine, Mad Eye,” she said, relief washing over her at his appearance. “What’s the news from the Ministry?”
He gave her a peculiar look. “Nothing to report. Englebrook is convinced that he’s got Sirius Black penned in somewhere near the East End, but we already know that’s bollocks.” He started to slip past her, his blue magical Eye rolling frantically in its socket, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“That’s not what I meant,” she insisted. “Is there something you aren’t telling me?”
“Aye,” he replied without hesitation. “There’s plenty of things I don’t tell you. But pertaining to your question, no. There’s nothing afoot at the Ministry. Unless you know or suspect something I don’t?” The question was left hanging, his bland expression still managing to express irony at the comment as well as a certain hungry anticipation for a mystery he hadn’t yet sussed.
“No, I had just wondered… after last night… say, Mad Eye? Why didn’t you tell me that I was going to be moved to your team?” Tonks eyed him keenly, the question she had just been pondering suddenly bubbling forth.
Once again he gave her an odd, studying look. “I did tell you,” he rasped. “Twice, in fact.” His Eye swiveled to examine her with its passionless gaze, and the old Auror grunted. “I think you need to start getting more rest. It’s playing with your memory.” And with that, he stumped down the stairs, the clunking of his wooden leg echoing hollowly in the narrow stairwell, while Tonks stared after him.
The ache in her head was starting to become distracting. Rubbing her temples, she muttered, “Maybe he’s right. I’m not feeling like myself at all.” With a sigh, she pushed open the door and stepped out into the hallway.
As she turned to head for the lounge, light split the room and a cold breeze skirled about her ankles. Spinning back around she saw Remus bustling through the front door, bundled in a threadbare coat and several scarves, and still looking frozen to the bone. He closed the large door quickly, resetting the wards in hoarse, tired tones, and then sagged back against it with his eyes closed.
“Remus?” she said uncertainly, taking a step closer, and his eyes flared open at his name.
“Is Mad Eye here?” he asked, and even the exhaustion evident in his voice couldn’t disguise the urgency in his question. Quickly nodding an affirmative, Tonks hastened to help him over to the basement stairs, biting her tongue to keep from pestering him for his news.
“He just went down a moment ago, probably to get some breakfast; Merlin knows we had plenty left over. Come on; you look like you need a plate too while you give him your message.”
Remus let her tow him along, his expression grim. “It isn’t good,” he said, following her down the stairs. “It isn’t good at all.”
Her heart beat an anxious tattoo at his word, but Tonks took a couple quick breaths and hurried for the warm light at the bottom of the steps. Of course it wouldn’t be good; what had been good since Dumbledore was killed? But panic was inimical to her character, and wouldn’t help besides, so she set her mind resolutely toward solving whatever trouble Remus had come upon. By the time they stepped into the kitchen, she felt almost optimistic.
That is, until she saw that the kitchen was utterly empty.
