No Idea

chapter one

joining

I could say, without remorse, that I positively hated my job. When I'd signed on for Auror training, I'd expected a bit more excitement than this dull paperwork, most of which consisted of cheerfully false claims of dark magic. Not only that, but with the Ministry steadily denying that Lord Voldemort had returned, there really wasn't much to do except sit back and watch chaos break out right under my nose. As an Auror, I had expected to be allowed to at least try to control it. Instead, I found myself constantly wasting my time ignoring it, twiddling my thumbs when I could be out fighting a nasty Death Eater or two.

With a kind of resigned sigh, I let a report on demonic sounds in London drop onto my desk. I glanced in the mirror; my hair was wilting in all the horror of this boring work. I screwed up my face and thought, Bubblegum pink, damn you. When I looked in the mirror again, the not-so-electric blue hair had faded, replaced by a vibrant, almost humming pink. I smiled at myself and murmured, "Much better."

Then I saw the other figure in the mirror, the one that was scowling at me, and I leapt to my feet, promptly causing a tray of papers to crash to the floor. "Not again," I grumbled, waving my wand, and the papers flew back into the tray, newly restored to my desk. "Wotcher, Mad-Eye," I said carefully, turning to face the demented Auror.

"Follow me, Tonks," he grunted, with a last darkly significant look at my hair, and took off down the hallway, limping on his clawed foot. I pulled a disgusted face and dragged myself after him, sighing. Well, it wouldn't be the first time, but they sure hadn't been complaining about my morphing abilities during training. At least, I thought, a little gloomily, this may be a bit more exciting than paperwork.

As my feet trod the hallway behind Mad-Eye, I realized where we were going and my stomach clenched momentarily in dread. What had I done that was bad enough to be summoned by Mad-Eye Moody and then taken to Kingsley Shacklebolt's office, both of whom were much higher up on the Auror food chain than I? I shook my head as we arrived in front of Shacklebolt's door. Something slipped under the door from Moody's wand and Shacklebolt's deep voice called, "Come in."

The instant that we were both through the door, Shacklebolt stood and twitched his wand at it, and I felt a silent spell whoosh past me; immediately, the door shut softly and pins and needles inside it clicked into place. Moody's wand had soundproofed the room; I could tell by the nearly invisible points of white light in each of the upper corners of Shacklebolt's office. Suddenly, my wand was slipping from my fingers, but I clung to it, glaring at Shacklebolt. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" I snapped. "Whatever it is I did, it can't be bad enough that you're going to take my wand!"

Moody summoned a chair with his wand; it came up behind me, knocking into the back of my knees and making me sit down with a rather ungraceful thump. Then again, I never really had been graceful, but usually that was the fault of mine, rather than a grumpy old codger who wanted to knock the feet out from under me. I cast a glare at Mad-Eye and then turned to look at Shacklebolt, who was looking, with an expression of slight distaste, at my newly bright pink hair. "Can't you tone it down just a bit, Tonks?" he asked with a sigh. "It's hurting my eyes."

I glared even harder and let my hair go a bit brighter. "Why on Earth would you lock me in a soundproofed office with two Aurors way above my rank to talk about the color of my hair?"

He sighed again and shook his head. "I suppose that isn't the point." He shuffled some papers on his desk. I noticed that Mad-Eye hadn't sat down, but was rather standing, looking at the door, wand still out and at the ready. "You were seen shredding The Daily Prophet yesterday," he said, his tone more businesslike. "Would you care to tell us why?"

I snorted. "You've called me in here to discuss why I was shredding a newspaper yesterday? I could be finishing a report on alleged demonic sounds issuing from a Muggle's house in London, sir."

"I'm serious, Tonks," Shacklebolt said sharply. "We need to know why."

I stared at him a moment, quite wondering why he needed to know why. "I guess it's because I think they're lying. About most everything. And for a minute there, shredding Fudge's lying face seemed like a pretty good idea to me." I leaned back and folded my arms across my chest. "Satisfied?"

I had expected this to at least upset the two. On the contrary, Shacklebolt grinned widely, conjured a cup out of midair, and started pouring tea from his wand. "Have a biscuit, Tonks," he said, his deep voice noticeably lighter as he nodded to the tray that had appeared on his desk.

I looked at them warily. "You aren't trying to poison me, are you?" I asked, picking up a biscuit and sniffing it delicately.

"Poison you?" Shacklebolt said, looking both alarmed and amused. "No, no…we have a proposition for you."

I looked over the biscuit at him curiously. "A proposition?" I asked in interest.

Moody finally spoke up, moving away from the door. "Have you heard of the Order of the Phoenix?"

I carefully replaced the biscuit, deciding not to risk it just yet. "They were a group who fought you-know-who last time, weren't they?"

"Yes," he said, nodding. "The Order has reconvened in the light of recent times."

Suddenly, my heart was fluttering somewhere in the region of my throat. The Order – back together – the chance to fight – to actually do something…

"Do you belong to it?" I blurted, staring up at Mad-Eye.

He nodded. "So does Shacklebolt here."

I looked between them. "What does it take to join?" I finally asked, looking back up at Mad-Eye.

"You catch on quick," Shacklebolt commented, slightly amused. "I take it that's a yes, then?"

He pushed a cup of tea toward me. I grinned, raised the mug to both of them, and said, "Cheers, gentlemen." Then I tipped my head back and drained the mug, just in time to see Shacklebolt smile in relief and to see Mad-Eye take a seat, although I noticed that he didn't touch the biscuits.

Finally, I was going to be doing something worthwhile.

"Read this and memorize," Shacklebolt instructed, handing me a slip of parchment. I recognized immediately Dumbledore's silvery, slanted handwriting and glanced through it quickly. He took it from me then and burned it immediately. I thought of what I'd read and, just like that, 12 Grimmauld Place appeared, squeezing in between two houses. He gestured toward the door and I walked forward; before he could stop me, I rang the doorbell.

The result was instantaneous and disastrous; someone shrieked from within, and then a motherly, exasperated, red-headed woman was pulling me inside, and the shrieking still hadn't stopped. Catching sight of the wailing woman in the portrait straight in front of me screaming, "FILTH – SCUM – BLOOD TRAITORS – FILTHY HALFBREEDS –," I was momentarily distracted and immediately my foot caught on something. I was just preparing myself for an inadvertent meeting with the cold, hard floor when someone was catching me and easefully pulling me back to my feet.

"Thanks," I said gratefully, straightening; then I was looking into a kindhearted pair of tired blue-grey eyes, and my breath, momentarily, left me. There were shrieks all around us, and the shout of someone bellowing himself hoarse at the screaming picture on the wall, but for a moment, all I could do was look curiously into that pair of eyes – so deep, and so very sad. "Thanks," I repeated, as things began to calm down. "I'm dead clumsy, so it might come as a surprise that I don't typically like falling to the floor."

He smiled and chuckled softly. It made him look a decade younger, made his lined face seem a little brighter, a little more hopeful. "I take it you're Nymphadora?" he asked; his voice was very soft, slightly hoarse, but pleasant, mid-range.

I shuddered at the sound of my name. "So someone told you I'm clumsy and my wretched first name. What else do you know about me, oh mysterious stranger?"

He laughed again, softly, his light brown hair shifting a bit. I noticed it was flecked, in places, with gray, even though I guessed that he couldn't be older than his late thirties, at most. My heart lifted to hear him laugh. He seemed so very tired and careworn, quite as though he hadn't smiled in months. "I'm afraid that's where my knowledge stops," he said. "Remus Lupin."

He stretched out his hand to shake mine. "Wotcher, then, Remus," I said, smiling up at him. "But take care to remember from now on: it's Tonks, or you'll find yourself hexed to oblivion."

"I'll do my best," he chuckled, looking amused, and then he glanced around. The man who'd been bellowing had yanked moth-eaten curtains closed over the portrait and was now glowering, sweeping his mop of black hair from his face.

"Thanks for the help, Moony," he said, turning to glance at us, his tone heavy with sarcasm. "You too, Shacklebolt," he added, catching sight of the Auror, but then his eyes turned back to Remus and I. "Oh-ho," he said, almost triumphantly, and when his face turned towards mine, my hand immediately went to my wand.

"Whoa," Remus said quickly, pulling my arm back. "Why didn't you warn her?" he asked Shacklebolt, a worry line creasing his brow. "Would you have liked to be shocked by the image of Sirius Black appearing before you?"

"You make it sound like no one would want to see me, Remus," Black said, sounding hurt, but then he turned to me.

"It's not only that," I managed, in a strangled whisper. "He's my cousin."

"Ah," Remus said, as though he'd just remembered. "That does complicate things."

I had eyes only for Black. A convicted killer, spending over a decade in Azkaban, murdering dozens of innocent people, my relative, and he was standing right here, in front of me… "Why did you do it?" I breathed, staring at him.

He laughed, more of a bark than a laugh. "Come now, Nymphadora, couldn't you see how incredibly eager I was to get back on the family tapestry?" he said, snorting.

I frowned at him. "First off, it's Tonks, no one calls me Nymphadora, as I was just explaining to Remus," I said, and he stopped laughing.

"Alright, alright," he said, almost gaily, and gestured down the hallway. "Let's go into the kitchen, I can see I'm going to have to explain again…"

I looked at Shacklebolt. He nodded. I sighed, tucked my wand away, and followed Black, trying to stay as far away from the errant house elf heads as possible. When we'd all sat down in the kitchen, the woman who'd first pulled me inside bustled in, and smiled at me. "Hello, dear," she said. "I'm Molly Weasley. You must be Nymphadora?"

"I prefer to be called by Tonks only," I said, smiling back. "Nice to meet you."

She nodded to me and sat down, too. "Alright," I said, looking across the table to Black, who was observing me in interest. "Speak, dear cousin."

So he talked.

"First off, I did not kill a single soul," he said firmly, staring straight into my eyes. "That was Peter Pettigrew. The story goes that he cornered me and was sobbing about Lily and James, and that I blew him and the rest of the street to kingdom come. The truth, however, is that Peter Pettigrew – like myself – is an illegal Animagus, and he blew up the street with his wand behind his back, cut off his own finger, and disappeared down the sewer with the rest of the rats after he'd transformed. In the meantime, I was hauled away to Azkaban. The only thought that sustained me for all those years was that I was innocent. It's not exactly a happy thought, but the dementors couldn't take it from me, and since I am an Animagus, I could turn into a dog when it all became too much; they couldn't sense me very well then. Two years ago, I transformed into a dog and slipped between them when they were pushing in food, then swam to mainland."

My brow furrowed. "If you could've done that all this time, then why did you wait until two years ago?"

"Because it so happens that Harry Potter is my godson," he growled, "and his best friend is Ronald Weasley. Fudge came by touring Azkaban, and gave me his newspaper when I said I was bored. And there they were, the entire Weasley family, on holiday in Egypt, and Peter Pettigrew, as a rat, was on Ron's shoulder. I knew there was a murderer at Hogwarts, a murderer who had also served Voldemort, the murderer that had betrayed Lily and James to Voldemort."

I stared at him for a moment. I was no Occlumens, but anyone could see the pleading, the desperation, the truth in Sirius Black's eyes. "Please believe me, Tonks," he said quietly. "I would have never betrayed Lily and James. I would never have served Voldemort. You believe me." He reached out his hand across the table, the palm turned up towards me. "Don't you?"

I looked at him a moment longer, at the raw desperation of his eyes, the man who'd spent years in Azkaban and somehow still had enough cunning to worm his way out. My decision clicked shortly after that. I reached out and placed my hand in his. "Of course, Sirius," I said softly. "I believe you."

The relief at the table was immediate and immense; it felt as though a great burden had been lifted from everyone there. He gave my hand a squeeze, and then let it go. "Thank you," he said quietly.

"The Order will be here in about a half an hour," Molly said, and stood. "If you would all kindly move to the front room, I'll start dinner."

"Anything I can help with, Molly?" I asked, standing; only by turning swiftly could I catch my chair, which had nearly fallen to the floor.

"Certainly, dear. The rest of you…" She pointed her wand and scanned it over Remus, Sirius, and Shacklebolt. "Out. Now."

As they grudgingly left, talking amongst themselves, I turned to clear off the table, which was strewn with various bits of parchment, apple cores, and what looked like half a peanut butter sandwich. "Can this all go in the trash?" I asked her, eyeing the crumbs.

"Yes, please," she said, and I waved away the mess. Just then, another person came bursting into the kitchen.

"Mum…" she said, but then saw me and stopped abruptly. She had very vibrant red hair and bright brown eyes, and her face was currently flushed. She looked to be about fourteen. "Sorry," she said, and smiled at me. "Didn't know we had company."

"It's okay," I said quickly, turning to make sure that nothing else had happened when I'd siphoned all of the rubbish into the garbage. "I'm Tonks."

"Ginny," the girl said.

"Wotcher, Ginny," I said, and she looked in interest at my hair.

"How'd you get it so pink?"

"Oh, it's easy," I said dismissively; I screwed up my eyes and thought, Neon green, and immediately heard her gasp of surprise. I smiled at her shocked expression. "I'm a Metamorphmagus," I added helpfully. "I can change at will."

"Wow," she said, still with a look of surprise on her face.

"What was it that you wanted, Ginny?" Molly asked; I assumed that Ginny was her daughter, judging by the hair.

"Oh, Fred and George again, you know…Apparating again…they landed on Hermione's cat…"

Molly sighed and pushed back her hair. "If I've told them once I've told them a thousand times…FRED! GEORGE!" She bustled out of the kitchen, leaving Ginny and I alone.

"So can you change into anything?" she asked eagerly.

"Anything."

It was then that a very bushy-haired girl walked into the kitchen, with a very grumpy-looking cat in her arms. She looked at me curiously. "Ginny, who's this?" she asked the redhead.

"Tonks," Ginny said promptly. "This is Hermione Granger," she added to me.

"Wotcher, Hermione," I said.

"She's a Metamorphmagus," Ginny told Hermione, and immediately Hermione's eyes went round as saucers.

"You are?" she practically squealed. "But they're really, really rare, and…aren't you an Auror? I heard Mrs. Weasley saying that we had someone new…"

"Yeah, it was dead useful in Auror training, I got full marks on Concealment and Disguise and I didn't have to study at all," I said, grinning. "But Stealth and Tracking wasn't my good spot…did you hear me trip over that umbrella stand when I first got here?"

"I thought someone had set Mrs. Black off again," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"That's Sirius's mum?" I said, dumbfounded. "No wonder he was so eager to get off that wretched family tapestry…"

They both laughed. I heard Molly's voice shouting upstairs, and two voices trying to dissuade her at the same time; meanwhile, Mrs. Black was shrieking again. Laughing with Hermione and Ginny, I felt like I'd finally found something that suited me; it seemed that in 12 Grimmauld Place, the home of the Order of the Phoenix, things were rarely anything but chaotic, and that was just how I liked it.

Needless to say, however, I had absolutely no idea of what I was getting into.