Chapter 27

The sun was going down, dark clouds gathering overhead— bringing with them a premonition—when she received her orders.

They'd been looking for cloaked figures, chasing after shadows and dust trails. They hadn't found anyone yet, but the simple truth that three of their own were now dead was enough to send them scrambling—looking for clues.

The orders for her came from their second in command, one, Gawain Robards. He was a robust man; thick eyebrows, scratchy voice, and broad shoulders, characteristic of a training freak. Something Tonks knew to be true.

"Initiate Tonks." He beckoned. "You are called in the interrogation camp right this instant. They're waiting for you."

That managed to just barely distract her from the bundle of complicated emotions currently brewing inside her.

It didn't last long, however. Especially as she made her way to the ministry tents on her lonesome, with nothing to distract her from the panic-inducing thoughts.

She tried, really tried, to distract her mind away. But even the world around her seemed to want to torture her. The silent lonely hills—which had been teeming with wizards and witches just this morning; the dusty roads trailing behind the stadium, littered with dried leaves that cracked like splintered air beneath her shoes; even the woods were oddly quiet and echoing.

All this meant that she no longer had the privilege of keeping herself distracted. And thus, the thoughts came out—dark and dreary—and her head spun anew.

'What have I done?' She finally asked herself, a muted feeling of dread creating a pit in her stomach, enlarging in size, bit by bit.

For the longest period of her life, the future had seemed perfectly clear to Nymphadora Tonks.

She'd achieved her dream of becoming an Auror, she had a loving family who supported her in everything she did, and a brilliant boyfriend whom she eventually planned to marry.

Or, well, once she'd planned to.

If someone had told her that a single day might end up ruining one of the biggest anchors in her life, she would never have believed them.

Unfortunately, reality was often a harsh convincer.

A day, mere hours truly, was all it took for her life to suddenly do a complete 180, plunging her into a path so unknown that she'd never even dared imagine it before.

A path with choices aplenty, all confusing her brain like a scrambled egg, and therein lay her current bundle of complications.

Complications that bred a tightly woven ball of darkness in her heart. A ball made of uncertainty, anger, confusion, guilt…and desire. A whole lot of guilt and desire.

'I cheated on Bill.'

The words made her entire world feel surreal. How could she cheat on Bill? She loved Bill! Surely there was a mistake….

But no. Her body knew exactly how real it was. The warmth and afterglow of her recent sexual escapades had yet to recede.

And they simply reiterated the fact again, etching it deep within her soul.

'I cheated on Bill. I did the one thing that is sure to destroy our relationship completely.'

They'd had their fights in the past of course, one particularly nasty case had lasted for a full week with neither talking to each other.

And yet, they'd eventually recovered, as all couples do, growing closer still for every challenge they overcame.

But there's no recovering from betrayal. In the matter of hearts, betrayal is the greatest sin.

Nymphadora Tonks didn't know where she'd heard it from, but right now, there was nothing more real to her.

And try though she might, she couldn't shake away the dread that came with the words.

Using the same excuse she'd used—when she first convinced herself of walking upon this path—didn't work either. Not this time.

'We weren't together at the time.'—was such an incredibly naïve and unrealistic take that she didn't even bother using it again.

Yes, she was angry at the time. Yes, she had thoughts of leaving the shameless cretin behind.

But they hadn't actually broken up. She hadn't had the guts to walk to his face and say with all confidence, 'I'm done with you.'

The thing was, she hadn't been confident if that's what she truly wanted.

The least she could've done was wait for Bill to explain himself.

And had it been Bill who found her instead of…him, she would have surely done so.

Instead, she'd taken a drastically immature decision and completely closed that line forever.

What exactly had convinced her to sleep with a boy 4 years her junior?

The question she asked herself was a rhetorical one, conveying righteous anger at herself.

Instead, she found herself taking it quite literally, and painful though it was, her heart answered honestly: Revenge.

Revenge on Bill for acting like an utter arsehole. Ogling a girl, who Tonks had to admit, made her woefully insecure about herself.

'And not just ogling.' She seethed, guilt giving way to anger. 'The shameless bastard actually went down on his knees for her!'

He had never done anything like that for her in their last couple of years together.

But even as she tried to hold onto that anger, trying to justify her own actions away, she knew that wasn't enough for what she'd done.

Because she also knew, revenge wasn't the only thing that made her do what she did. No, the bigger reason was….

…Lust.

Lust for a boy who did not seem like a 14 year old. The way he carried himself, sure and cautious, she'd only ever seen in the most senior Aurors.

Then there was his abruptly changed personality. Charming was not a word she would've used to describe Harry Potter in the past. Sure, she had always seen him as someone handsome enough to turn heads—even for someone her age— but the ever present Slytherin sneer whenever they met took away from it in unpleasant ways.

Now…well, considering how quickly she'd let him mount her, there was nothing more to state.

'Merlin, I still can't believe I initiated this whole thing.' She thought to herself in frustrated annoyance and a slight bit of disgust as her legs marched through the line of tents, making their way to the large pavilion where Scrimgeour supposedly kept a captured Death Eater.

Her thoughts wandered back to the boy who shook her whole world on his lonesome.

'In the bed as well.' Whispered the part of her that wished to go back to him right this moment.

Nymphadora Tonks let herself indulge guiltily, remembering the incredibly athletic body that can't possibly have belonged to a 14 year old, or those alluringly deep green eyes that sparkled with fire as he stared deep within her…or that horse shaft that had reached the most deepest parts of her, satisfying every inch of her body thoroughly.

'Alright you Nymph, shut up.' She groaned in her hands, absently showing her Auror's badge to the guard outside the pavilion.

The worst thing wasn't just that she'd cheated on Bill, It was how much she had enjoyed it.

No, not just enjoy—after the initial guilt had waned away in pleasure and passion— she had loved every second of it.

She may have went in it with thoughts of revenge in her mind, but she'd left with thoughts of Harry Potter.

The boy was, without a doubt, the greatest lover she'd ever had.

And that just elevated her present guilt even more.

Along with a dark need.

'I really am a Nymph, aren't I?' She thought, despairingly. 'Would anyone even want to do anything but shag me?'

'Whatever.' She pushed down all such thoughts as she entered inside the cavern-like pavilion, letting her work distract her away.

It was a large tent, even by wizards standards. Multiple temporary cells were stacked in line at the very back, as if cages meant to store animals in a circus.

The cages lay empty though, with only one being occupied. The one at the very centre—containing an almost regal looking man, sitting calmly on his lone wooden bench with his eyes closed. There were marks of blood along his eyelids, trailing along his brows down to his right ear.

Then her eyes fell upon the figures present with her in the tent— all important people who would normally not give their time of the day to an initiate. Especially in a situation like this.

Minister Bones stood with her hands clasped, just outside the prisoner's cell, talking to Head Auror Scrimgeour with a scowl.

"This wasn't supposed to happen in the first place, Rufus." She growled, and Tonks was happy they hadn't discovered her yet. She didn't want to mess up such a tense moment. "It doesn't matter why or how it may have happened. The entire crowd saw us running out in panic. It's a wonder no one has tried to break out of the stadium yet. But the rumors should've started already."

Beside them stood possibly the most paranoid Auror in the history of Great Britain, Mad-eye moody.

The retired Auror was talking to a familiar face, who turned to her seconds after she entered the vast tent.

"Dora!" Exclaimed James Potter, worried eyes lighting up with hope. He quickly scrambled towards her, a frantic intensity in his steps. "You were with Harry, weren't you? Where is he now!? What is he doing!?"

Before he could fully approach her, a wooden cane wacked him right on the head from behind.

"Aw! What was that for!?"

Startled, and doing her best to stop a blush at the boy's reminder, She was thankfully saved from the earlier question as Moody hobbled over besides the head of hitwizards.

While she didn't know what Harry was doing right now, she knew exactly what he was doing half-an-hour ago.

'Pumping inside me with the might of a dragon.'

Her blush was now threatening to break over, forcing her to quickly utilize the paltry bit of occlumency in her repertoire to focus in the present.

"I am doing what you should be doing, Potter." Auror Moody growled out. "Already forgetting your duties?"

James Potter sighed, his eyes urging her for an answer.

"He left to meet up with you guys." She answered hesitantly, now growing confused and bewildered at the gathered party. "Last I saw him was in the underground section."

"Oh, thank Merlin." James breathed out, stepping away with suddenly unburdened shoulders. "Minister? I'll have to send a patronus to Lily, or she and Bella won't stop searching until they've upturned the place. You can manage here, I take it?"

Minister Bones gave a short nod, her eyes turning to Nymphadora.

Before she could do more than open her mouth, Moody limped over between them. "Is anyone listening to a word that I'm barking over here!? We need complete lockdown of security right now! Starting with making sure some imposter isn't here to rescue her little friend."

The last one was growled out towards her.

"Wait, you're serious?" Tonks let out in surprise before slapping her hand over her mouth as she gained the attention of all four. "Sorry! Please continue."

For a moment there was silence in the tent…then Mr. Potter left with one last nod at the minister, his steps hurried and impatient.

Scrimgeour sighed, waving her in. "I don't think we need to be this paranoid, Alastor. But for your peace of mind, we will oblige."

Her direct superior turned to her. "Initiate Tonks here is quite special, you see? Hard to impersonate. Initiate, would you mind showing our friend here that unique skill of yours?"

"Sure, sir." Suppressing a smirk, Tonks changed into Moody, grinning wildly with her hand extended—shooting a thumb's up at the man, the other hand resting on her waist.

Scrimgeour and Bones looked mildly disturbed, while Moody's real eye opened wide to match his other one in size, fascinated disgust filled in them.

Minister Bones coughed, closing her eyes as if to forget the image. "Yes, well, that's quite enough I would say."

"And I would say our enemies have studied us well." Moody's glaring eye stayed fixed on her. "Slipping in a Metamorph amongst us could be difficult, but not for Grindelwald."

Tonks changed back and folded her hands, scowling at the suspicious look on the legendary Auror. "Respectfully, sir. At this point, I don't think they'd even bother. Surely taking Polyjuice of some random Auror would be much better and easier."

Minister Bones seemed to agree, nodding slightly.

Scrimgeour sighed, spreading his arms wide. "In any case, we've no way to determine it now. Our assailants destroyed our potions cabinet, the only thing we've managed to salvage is a vile of befuddlement draught."

"Well then Legilimens her!" Mad-eye Moody bellowed, finally seeming to lose his cool. "What are you two playing at here!? One green flash and you're dead. Forget about controlling the stadium, we all would be struggling to control the bloody country, should anything happen to you minister."

"You've gone barmy if you think I'll ever let you." Tonks spat, a sudden surge of anger boiling inside her.

'This day's just getting better and better by the second.'

She was ignored however as slowly, almost lovingly, Moody turned to stare at Scrimgeour. "Or maybe that's exactly what you want, eh, Rufus? Think you're ready to handle the ministry now, do you?"

Tonks gasped as her department head suddenly unsheathed his wand—looking ready to cast—his eyes burning with a cold and dark fury.

"That's enough Alastor! Rufus, put that wand away!" The Minister snapped out the commands, suddenly coming to loom over the two—both of whom backed away like a couple of school boys caught by a teacher.

She stared at the two critically for a moment. Then, as if her sudden surge of strength was drained out of her, she let out a sigh—backing away with a hand massaging her forehead. "You're right of course, Alaster. But we cannot force Ms. Tonks here to do that. We need her metamorphic abilities, so her help comes voluntarily. If she decides to curse us out to Morgana and simply leave, I cannot, and will not, stop her."

They all turned to stare at her now, two disgruntled set of eyes beside a very tired one. Tonks ignored the two men, meeting the minister's eye.

She knew about her own freedom of course. One of the things she'd demanded at the Auror trials was to be judged based on her own magical skills, and not on her special ability. Which gave her the permission to treat her ability as a skillset outside the bounds of her work.

So she had complete rights to flip them off and turn away. Afterall, they were the ones unsure about her. She understood their reasons of course, though it still stung to be seen as distrustful.

But looking in her minister's eye, the tired desperation that looked to be on the verge of collapse, Nymphadora Tonks simply couldn't find it in her to deliver a cold rejection.

So she walked forward into the tent, ignoring the look Moody was still shooting her.

She came to stand in front of the minister, uncertain and more than a little embarrassed. "I will be willing to do this, but I have recently engaged in…private…ah, activities, Minister. I would appreciate it if you could keep out of it."

A small smile lit upon the tired face, and Tonks could see how beautiful the minister truly was.

'Merlin above, why am I surrounded by such disgustingly pretty women?' She cursed in her mind.

The Minister gave a light nod, palming her wand. "Of course, Ms. Tonks. Just concentrate on our last meeting, and push back your recent memories. This will be very quick. Come, take a seat."

She waved her wand and conjured a wooden chair.

Tonks took a deep breath, goosebumps rising on her skin, as she took the chair. 'Push down on the recent memories. No big deal.'

But when she closed her eyes, all she could remember were those strong hands gripping onto her hips, holding her in position as his waist slammed against her behind again and again.

"Are you ready?" A voice seemed to say but she was a touch too distracted to care.

'No! Not this!' She groaned inside her mind, trying to dismiss the y. 'C'mon Tonks you stupid Nymph, you can do this!'

She nodded to herself. Yes, yes she can do this. As a basic lvl 2 occlumens, she had mastered the ability to control her emotions and form a shield over her mind—though to a very basic degree, which needed her to be calm from the start.

"…..very well, if you're sure." She absently heard the minister say, and realised too late that there might be a bit of a misunderstanding. "Legilimence!"

Panic flared inside her head and the worst came into being.

Images of Harry Potter and her coupling lay starkly in her mind, her mind castle pushing them forward as the most recent memories—Their naked sweaty bodies wrestling on a conjured bed. She could feel another subconsciousness, watching the scenes with shock and bashfulness.

It wasn't even a minute, mere few seconds truly, but it felt like a lifetime to her.

''Change it!' She bellowed in her mind and with Merlin's grace and glory, the memory finally shifted off to the last meeting she had with the minister.

Then they were back in their bodies, with Madam Bones still on her chair, taking deep breaths and staring at her with widened eyes.

The minister gave a quick look around the tent—noting the men were away to give them a sense of privacy—before leaning forth towards Tonks.

"Really?" The minister whispered. "With Harry Potter?"

A part of her wanted to lay down and curl up on the spot in embarrassment and shame. But a bigger part was just feeling drained. Today had been a roller coaster of emotions for Tonks, and she found herself just not caring anymore.

So staring the minister right in the eye, she shrugged. "Can you blame me?"

The minister sputtered a little—her cheeks flaming red—before composing herself with a deep breath, a small hesitant smirk forming on her face. "Well…I guess not, no. At least, if what I saw was true…."

"It was." Tonks solemnly promised. "He was."

"Poor Susan…" Madam Bones sighed, leaning back with a sad nod. "She seems to have missed a big, big chance."

They looked at each other….and then they snickered, gaining the attention of the wizards.

"I will take that to mean she is who she is." Auror Scrimgeour said, giving a pointed glare at Moody. "Now if we're done with this ridiculousness, perhaps we may begin."

Moody grunted but didn't reply, though he too started hobbling back towards them.

Tonks looked at the minister. "What am I here for, exactly?"

Madam Bones took up, amusement vanishing behind weariness as she approached the prisoner. Tonks followed. "To interrogate him, I'm afraid."

The prisoner was still sprawled over his wooden bench as if a king in his own right—humming a soft tune, utterly unconcerned for a man being stared down by four enemies.

"He is a powerful occlumens." Scrimgeour noted. "We shot a combined confundus upon him but managed to gain absolutely nothing. Not that he was unaffected, but he had enough faculties of his mind to recognize our faces."

Tonks nodded, things clicking in place. "You want to register the befuddlement charm and send me with a face of someone else, in hopes that he doesn't suspect anything through the potion's effects."

"Indeed." There was a smirk in his reply. "Just, I'm a smudge more thorough. I do not want you to look like a random wizard, but as his own kind This one wasn't the only dark wizard we found, though I fear the other one is dead."

The prisoner suddenly started laughing, startling all the ones present. It was a high, mocking laugh—ugly to hear— promising only contempt for them.

"You are too late, Englishmen." He whispered—his voice low and raspy, stormy grey eyes opening to regard them with pity and disgust. "He comes."

"Who?" Scrimgeour demanded, stepping forth to the cell cage. "Who comes? Your master?"

The prisoner chuckled again. "My leader. He is here."

And then it happened.

A power, unlike any she'd ever felt, suddenly bore down on them. It wasn't physical and she doubted it was aimed at them, but all four gathered were aware of its presence.

"Anti-disapparition ward." Moody growled out after a few seconds of silence.

Scrimgeour nodded. "It extends far, perhaps over all the plateaus."

The prisoner let loose another hysterical chuckle. "He is here! And you are all doomed! Go. Do whatever you think you may need doing. This will be the only chance you get."

The minister moved at once, a hurried urgency in her steps. "We must act. Rufus, prepare your teams. And someone send for James and Bella! I want all lvl 6 duelers with me now! We've prepared for this, people. It's time we put it to some use."

Tonks did not know what was about to happen. But she knew, whatever it was, it was gonna be a real pain to deal with.

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

A mood of celebration lay thick as the finals of 422nd edition of Quidditch finals came to a climatic end. The Irish team were in their 2nd victory lap since having raised the vast golden cup, attracting all eyes to them.

While a portion of the crowd had grown worried at seeing the English officials leave abruptly with a hurried gait, none paid too much attention—letting themselves be taken under the false security of cheers and celebrations around them.

Indeed, none paid any attention at all as the tiny force of hitwizards—that were specifically told to stay back—started disappearing one by one.

It wasn't until the air in front of them splintered open—and with an explosive crack announcing his presence, Gellert Grindelwald himself stepped upon the grass of Dartmoor Quidditch Stadium—that the crowd finally seemed to realize; Something might be very very wrong today.

As if a dementor had graced them with its presence, all joy seemed to slowly disappear from the crowd. The drums stopped banging, the saxophones went quiet, and the crowd held its breath in nervous anticipation as seconds passed and no one dared confront this man.

A man who somehow seemed to Apparate right through the wards.

Of course, once the smarter part of the crowd realized the severity, they would check if the wards still existed. The answer would be stark 'No'.

The ones who were capable of doing something however, namely the two most dangerous wand carriers present in the stadium, were more concerned with their families.

Lily Potter and Bellatrix Black knew something had gone wrong from the start. But their search for a green-eyed boy took a higher priority. Their plan was simple: Gather their family and leave.

Perhaps, had they been present then, they would've confronted the Dark Lord. But they were currently lost searching through the undergrounds—ignorant about a much greater threat.

And thus, Gellert Grindelwald had some freedom to give a rousing speech….had he wanted to.

To Gellert, the air was moist and welcoming, almost electrifying to behold. The dark clouds overhead seemed to herald his presence, the howling winds his messengers.

'Oh, I've missed this. A pity I have more important things to do.'

With a deep breath of satisfaction, he spread his arms wide.

"Brothers and sisters," His voice did not seem to be raised by any spell, yet it reached the ears of each and every one in the stadium. "I thank you for your presence, though I know it is not for me. But my words…what I have to speak today…they may be more important for you than this sport."

The urgency grew in the ones who were aware. Chill of fear and anxiety spread through their bodies as they realized what was happening. The rest, however, were still quite ignorant. They knew in the back of their minds, that this was what their authorities have been preparing for. That what was happening to them was something they'd feared for a long time. And yet, they cannot believe that it may actually come to pass.

Reality was, after all, much harder to accept when in denial.

"My name….is Gellert Grindelwald."

Now they scrambled. As if the words had given the instincts in their chests reality.

"And I have come with a proposition."

People were crowding for the exit now. Slowly at first, but gaining speed as they realized that others had similar intentions.

"A proposition….that you must hear."

His wand, dark and gleaming, twirled through the air—taking power from the battery of Obscurial ashes that he'd prepared for this very moment.

The space locked upon in itself, magic closing down the gaps of pathways as the anti-disapparition ward snapped into effect. It extended kilometers wide, covering the vast expanse of land under its effects.

It hurt him some, to make use of such valuable items just to frighten a bunch of ignorant wizards. He had been collecting Obscurials since time long-buried—what with them playing a most pivotal role in his plans to save this world—but that did not mean he had any to spare so frivolously.

'It needs to be done.' He comforted himself. 'Today is too important not to.'

He did not stop the crowd from leaving, of course. Even though his purpose was different this time, he usually never stopped anyone from leaving. He'd come to learn that forcing his ideals upon others never work. But the ones who stayed, whatever their reasons may be, they always deserved his truth.

Not this time.

"Dark times approach us, my brethren." Gellert spoke again, grim solemnity coloring his words. "I have known of my calling for a long time now. My duty, my destiny….it arrives. And I ask for your help."

And yet, Gellert Grindelwald wasn't here to recruit this time.

Oh no, certainly not. His current purpose was far too exciting than that, thus his words contained none of his true passion and power.

There was also the fact that English wizards were some of most stubborn pieces of magicals he'd ever seen. His last recruiting experience here had been…less than satisfactory.

A figure ran towards him, his boot scrapping upon the grass. Panting, he knelt down as soon as he reached him.

"Your orders are heeded, my lord." Abernathy declared, face planted in the ground. "My men are ready to capture the younger Potter. His sibling is already being taken care of. Three of our best are after him, as you suggested. Though I must say I don't understand the reason."

Grindelwald smiled. "You will soon. But worry not, you have done well, Abernathy. I expected nothing less from you."

He truly was proud of his wizards. They were so much more efficient than the death eaters. He would know, he'd worked closely with their lord once upon a time.

Perhaps they may join forces once again. The Potter boys were his gift to his former protégé. They should be enough.

His job for now was simply one of…herding.

This country was well prepared for his arrival. They knew his biggest weapon wasn't simply his magic, but the crowd itself that was prone to panicking—something Grindelwald had taken advantage of in no few occasions.

But simply caging them inside the stadium was never going to work. The people were like a pressured up bottle of soda, wanting to pop free of their constraints. Grindelwald's job was just to give them a slight push, and let them storm out on their own….

Into the awaiting hands of his men.