Chapter 19

The Savior of the Oppressed by Literature.

……………………………..……………………………..……………………………..……………………………..……

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

Good morning, everyone!

Assuming you’ve been reading HP and OoP with the fanfic, now it’s time to read the rest of Chapter 7 and all of Chapter 8, the disciplinary hearing.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

HP capítulo 9: From the beginning up to the moment Harry arrives at Grimmauld Place and Mrs. Weasley roars (for the third or fourth time) at Ginny, Fred, and George to keep quiet.
And from that point on… I take over!

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Since the disciplinary hearing, the atmosphere at Grimmauld Place had changed drastically.

Harry was in a better mood—much lighter, as if he had finally shaken a weight off his shoulders.
He took part in the cleaning tasks with unexpected energy, sometimes even joking around, and that alone was enough to make everyone breathe a little easier.

Molly Weasley had commented on it quietly to her husband as she folded napkins with that motherly gesture of hers:
—It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him smile like that.

And it wasn’t just Harry.
The relief was the same in everyone.

The outcome of the hearing had brought with it a sense of truce, a feeling that—for now at least—Dumbledore still held the upper hand.

Even the house seemed to have yielded a little.
Old Number 12 Grimmauld Place, which until then had resisted its new occupants with ferocity, was beginning to give ground.

The shadows didn’t look quite as heavy, the windows let in a bit more light—though no one remembered cleaning them—and the portraits shouted with less enthusiasm. It was as if the mansion, begrudgingly, was starting to accept that it couldn’t win this battle.

Tonks, for her part, stopped by headquarters almost every afternoon.
Sometimes she brought reports or attended Order meetings; other times she simply dropped in to chat, lend a hand with the cleaning, or spend some time with the others.

She liked the atmosphere in the house: the conversations with Molly, the endless jokes from the twins, the comforting presence of Sirius, the gossiping with Ginny and Hermione.

However—and she would never admit it—her eyes tended to look for Remus Lupin’s.

Whether in a crowded room or turning a corner, there was in her a kind of quiet expectation, a small spark of anticipation that grew with every visit, every glance, every smile. And the truth was: her colleague was beginning to occupy more space in her thoughts than she was willing to acknowledge.

But someone else was determined to intervene in her social life.

Molly Weasley seemed delighted with Tonks’ presence—her open character, her lively humour, her bright attitude.
But what truly lit up Mrs. Weasley’s face was the possibility that her eldest son, Bill, might find in Tonks something more than casual conversation.

It was clear Molly hadn’t forgotten Tonks’ confession about wanting to find love, and something told her that her eldest son and the young Auror would make an ideal couple.

Tonks had noticed it for a while now: every time she appeared at Grimmauld Place, Molly found an excuse to seat her next to Bill or suggest shared activities with an innocence far too rehearsed. Comments about “what a lovely day it was for a walk” or “how interesting Tonks’ take on that topic had been” had become part of her standard repertoire.

That afternoon, during tea, the situation reached a new level.

In a moment of calm silence, Molly dropped her teaspoon with unnecessary clatter. Then she shrugged, wearing a smile Tonks knew far too well, and leaned slightly toward her eldest son.

—Well, Bill, don’t you think it’s a perfect day for a stroll outside? — she asked, with carefully measured enthusiasm. —Tonks has been so busy with work lately…surely a bit of fresh air would do her good. You could accompany her, don’t you think?

Tonks, who had just placed her cup back on its saucer, held back a smile, fully expecting Bill’s reaction.
He lifted his gaze from a letter he’d been reading and looked at Tonks with an eye-roll that mixed resignation and complicity.

—I don’t think that’ll be necessary, Mum — he replied with practiced politeness, turning to include Tonks in his diplomatic escape. — Tonks, is your tea all right, or do you need more sugar?

Tonks returned the smile, genuine, but also quick, the kind meant to cut the subject short.

—Perfect, thanks, Bill. And actually, I adore the outdoors… but I usually prefer going alone.

Molly let out a barely audible sigh and, frustrated, folded her arms, giving them a look that clearly said If you don’t cooperate, I can’t do more than this.
She then began muttering under her breath as she moved toward the cupboard, which made Tonks raise a brow in amusement.

Bill got up calmly, adjusting his ponytail as if nothing had happened, and walked over to the Auror with a conspiratorial smile.

—I should get going. See you later, Tonks.

—Sure, Bill — she replied, still amused. — See you.

Tonks watched him leave the kitchen with that trademark calm of his, listening to the soft creak of the floorboards beneath his boots.

His easy, unbothered manner was almost contagious, but as soon as he disappeared through the doorway, the unmistakable sound of Molly Weasley banging pots snapped her back to reality. Tonks smirked to herself, picturing Molly with her brow furrowed and her hands on her hips—as if that pose alone could bend her son’s destiny to her will.

It was obvious Bill had someone in mind, and Tonks didn’t need to be an Auror to deduce it was someone from his workplace. Apparently, the lucky woman already had the path cleared, and Bill wasn’t exactly trying to hide it; it was hard to miss how his face lit up every time he mentioned work.

Still, Tonks couldn’t blame Molly for trying. The situation, though slightly awkward, felt more endearing than bothersome.

After all, as Remus had said, Molly only wanted her children to be happy—even if, this time, her efforts weren’t bearing fruit. And in a way, Tonks found it flattering that Mrs. Weasley considered her a good match for a son of hers.

Tonks chuckled softly and shook her head, still entertained by the idea.

Still smiling, she stood with a small sigh and headed toward the door, leaving the warmth of the kitchen behind.

As she descended the stairs toward the basement, where the library was located, she began to hear muffled laughter, a couple of indignant exclamations “Fred, was that a decompression spell or a combustion spell!?” and the occasional loud thud.

Tonks arched an eyebrow, already anticipating the chaos waiting below.

That was when she noticed something odd: a slight movement in the corner of her eye.

Turning, she thought she saw a cat — or better said, a portrait of a cat—jumping nimbly from frame to frame, following her through the corridor as if playing at spying on her.

She stopped for a moment.
The feline, painted with dark fur and almost human eyes, pretended innocence, licking its paw as though nothing were happening.

She smirked.

—Another of the endless mysteries of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, — she muttered.

At least it didn’t come with the uncomfortable, suffocating feeling of oppression the house had given her at first.

She sighed and continued on her way.

Behind her, the cat yawned and slid elegantly into the next portrait, disappearing just as she pushed open the heavy library door.

……………………………..……………………………..……………………………..……………………………..……

The cleansing of Grimmauld Place’s library was still underway, now with the invaluable —and slightly reckless— collaboration of Fred and George Weasley.

Sirius, Lupin and Tonks had already set aside the books most likely to try strangling, poisoning, or possessing someone. All that remained was the section at the back of the room: the darkest, dustiest, and of course, the most potentially lethal.

Meanwhile, the twins, under the strict command of Sergeant Molly Weasley, were in charge of cleaning the shelves that had already been checked.

The presence of the Weasley twins in the library was as chaotic as one would expect. While Tonks examined book after book, she couldn’t help being distracted by their whispers and snickering.
Every few minutes, they found some “harmless” volume that, according to them, deserved a more thorough investigation.

—Hey, George, do you think this book would curse us if we used it as a manual for our pranks? —asked Fred, holding up a dusty volume that, to his eyes, seemed to be titled S”pells to Ruin Your Enemy’s Day”.

—Mmm… not sure. Tempting. But we might run out of volunteers.

—Volunteers? No. What we lack is ethics. Ginny always says Ron would do anything for a Galleon.

They both laughed quietly—until the library door opened and Molly poked her head inside.

In a synchronisation so perfect it bordered on telepathy, the twins immediately set to work as if they were Flourish & Blotts’ employees of the month, scrubbing shelves with such vigour that the foundations of the library seemed to tremble.

Sirius let out a bark of laughter and Lupin shook his head, not even looking up from the books.

—Wish I could learn that kind of indifference —murmured Tonks—. It’d help when Dawlish scolds me at work.

Sirius winked at her.

—What you need is to learn how to put on a saintly face.

—Like yours?

—Exactly —he replied with shameless confidence.

Tonks rolled her eyes and turned back to the shelves.
She stretched up to reach an especially dusty tome on the highest ledge.

The moment she pulled it free, a creak echoed through the library.

The air seemed to charge with electricity just before the books exploded into a whirlwind of movement. As if awakened from a long sleep with a thirst for revenge, the volumes swirled through the air and hurled themselves at Tonks with frightening speed.

—AH! —she yelped, stumbling backwards.

—Knowledge is attacking! —shouted Fred theatrically.

—An ambush! A literary ambush! —added George, ducking as a Latin dictionary whizzed past his head.

The books weren’t just attacking; they seemed to have a plan.
While some struck with their covers, others flung themselves open and latched onto her hair or clothes. One particularly nasty tome, titled “Bestiary of Dangerous Creatures”, snapped shut around her arm.

—Lupin, Sirius, do something before I turn into a walking encyclopaedia! —roared Tonks as several other books tried tangling around her legs.

Sirius and Remus had their wands out in an instant.

—¡Depulso! —bellowed Sirius, blasting a particularly vicious book against the wall, where it bounced with a paf and dropped to the floor like a stunned bird.

—¡Protego! —Remus conjured a shield just in time to deflect a volley of manuals aimed at him, Fred and George.

The library became a battlefield of paper and leather. Tonks struggled with the bestiary still clamped to her arm while dodging the rest of the airborne volumes, which swooped like furious flocks.

—Can’t believe we’re fighting books! —Sirius grumbled.

—Shows you were never a dedicated reader —replied Lupin, lifting his wand again—. Finite Incantatem.

The magic rippled outwards and, suddenly, every book crashed to the floor at once.

Silence returned, broken only by the dull thuds of pages and covers settling.

Tonks lay flat on her back in the middle of the wreckage, hair a mess, bits of parchment stuck to her face, and the bestiary still hanging from her arm.
She blew out a breath, peeling a page off her eyebrow.

—Well —she muttered—. At least now my head’s full of knowledge. Kingsley can’t say I don’t study.

Sirius burst out laughing and offered her a hand to help her up, while Fred and George applauded enthusiastically, delighted by the spectacle.

—Don’t worry —said Sirius with a teasing grin—. I’m sure the books will invite you to study with them again any time.

Tonks shot him a grimace.

Around her, the library was an absolute disaster: dust everywhere, open books, overturned chairs, fallen frames, herself upside down… but for the first time, with no dark magic lurking in every corner.

……………………………..……………………………..……………………………..……………………………..……

The only good thing about that attack… was that it had been the last one.
After countless cleaning charms, improvised exorcisms, and the occasional skirmish with ill-tempered furniture, the house was finally free of magical threats.

To celebrate the victory, Molly Weasley had decided to prepare a feast.
The kitchen smelled of freshly baked biscuits.
The fire crackled cheerfully, and the table was piled high with mugs of tea, plates of buns, and a mountain of sweets waiting for the hungry winners.

Tonks dragged her feet inside and dropped dramatically into a chair, as if she had just returned from war. Naturally, her little mishap was already known throughout the entire Order.
And she had no intention of wasting her moment of glory.

She brought a hand to her forehead with theatrical suffering while glancing at Arthur Weasley beside her.

—I’ll never forget what I lived through in there… —she murmured, hand still pressed to her brow—. Tomes whispering threats, vengeful encyclopaedias… And worst of all —she added gloomily—, a dictionary correcting my grammar while trying to strangle me.

He, already settled with a cup of tea, offered her a biscuit with a smile.

—Here you go, brave soldier. You’ve earned it.

Tonks huffed, taking the biscuit with the air of a martyr.

—Thanks —the Auror replied—. At least I escaped without being turned into a walking encyclopaedia.

Arthur smiled just as Fred —or George— leaned into the conversation with a mischievous expression.

—Tonks… —began one.

—We like the way you think —finished the other, patting her shoulder.

Sirius, with a mix of resignation and amusement, sighed and took another sip from his tankard.

—Let’s hope no one at the Ministry finds out you’re inspiring those two.

—Hey! It’s not my fault! —protested Tonks, but Fred and George were already discussing titles for possible enchanted volumes that chased victims while reciting passages from “A History of Magic” in Professor Binns’ monotone voice.

Sirius was still chuckling into his drink when Bill leaned toward Tonks with a crooked smile.

—Don’t worry —he said soothingly—, you survived the Great Battle against the Insurgent Book Army. I’m sure they’ll award you a medal soon. Full ceremony and all. Maybe even Mad-Eye himself will present it.

Tonks rolled her eyes dramatically.

—Oh no, Mad Eye! —she exclaimed, clutching her chest as if fainting—. The moment he hears about it, he’ll give me another one of his inspiring speeches about constant vigilance… even with book-dividers!

As she said it, her left eye shifted shape, perfectly imitating Moody’s magical eye spinning wildly in every direction. Ginny burst out laughing.

Bill nodded with mock solemnity.

—You never know. One of those books might be spying on us right now.

Tonks narrowed her eyes at the nearest bookshelf in exaggerated suspicion before snorting and tossing a bit of biscuit at Bill, who dodged it with a grin.

Meanwhile, Arthur munched his biscuits contentedly, enjoying the chaos around him. Fred and George plotted new ideas between snickers, and Sirius, drinking butterbeer, chatted animatedly with Harry, Ron and Hermione.

From his corner of the room, hands warmed around a cup of tea, Remus watched the scene with a faint smile. The bustle was comforting, but he realised his attention kept drifting toward Tonks.

He watched her with a mixture of wonder and quiet tenderness.
It was as if her energy —her singing laughter, her light movements, her constant good humour— felt both foreign and fascinating to him. In a place where every object seemed to carry a dark, unhappy history, she was a discordant note: a burst of colour, of life, something that had no business fitting in there, and yet somehow did.

Tonks, with her pink hair, her loud clear voice, and that eternal good humour.

Remus looked away, stirring his tea with feigned interest.
He knew he shouldn’t watch her so much, but every time he tried to focus on something else, he failed miserably.

What unsettled him was not the attention he paid her, but how effortlessly Tonks had slipped into his daily life.

He had built his existence on solitude, on the belief that everyone was better off if he kept his distance. He had grown accustomed to the invisible wall that kept the world at bay. It was easier that way. Safer.

But Tonks… Tonks didn’t understand walls.

Somehow, she had managed to get closer than anyone had in a very long time, and she had done it without even trying, with a disarming naturalness he couldn’t quite process.

And the worst —or perhaps the best— part was that although a part of him screamed he should step back, another part, growing larger every day, did not want to.

Quite the opposite.
He wanted to let it happen.

He wanted to let her in, to allow her to turn his life upside down with her usual boldness and that smile he was starting to know far too well.

He didn’t know what was happening to him.
Maybe it was because she was everything he wasn’t: young where he felt old, lively where he always felt tired and ill, colourful and cheerful where he only knew grey and dreariness, silence and solitude. Their personalities clashed in a contrast as overwhelming as it was magnetic.

And in moments like this, he allowed himself to wonder: What would he have been if the werewolf hadn’t bitten him? What if he had grown up without that dark shadow clouding his life?

Would people see him the way he was seeing Tonks right now? Would he have been as lively and noisy as she was?
As daring and confident as James or Sirius?
As mischievous and prank-loving as the Weasley twins?

Sometimes, when he looked at Tonks, he felt a strange mix of admiration and —why hide it— a twinge of envy.

He admired her ability to be happy, to not let the world crush her, to refuse to let life’s shadows swallow her personality.
He envied her talent for being so positive, so open, so… so whole.

Tonks glanced up at that exact moment, catching him in the act.
Her smile bloomed as warm as always before she returned to her conversation, as if nothing were unusual. Remus looked away again, uncomfortable, as though her seeing him could expose his thoughts.

It was absurd to imagine possibilities, absurd to think of what might have been if his life had taken another path.
He couldn’t run from what he was.

The curse was etched into his skin, into his blood. It was part of him, whether he liked it or not.

He wondered if the wolf inside him had shaped his personality, extinguishing the spark he might once have had. Or whether he had always been like this: a naturally serious and melancholic soul. He would never know.

And above all, he wondered something else: Would he have been happy? Would he now be married, with a cheerful wife who cooked wonderful meals, warmed his bed, and had given him as many children as red heads he could count in the room?

And when he realised how far his mind was drifting, he reminded himself of who he was. His expression fell back into its habitual sombre stillness.

Remus sighed and closed his eyes for a brief moment, trying to banish those thoughts that always returned when he least wanted them.
There was no point in thinking about what could have been, about lives he would never have. And yet, sometimes, he couldn’t help it.

But before he could sink any further into that grey spiral, a colourful presence beside him yanked him back into the moment.

—Good thing you saved me from those books, Lupin —sang Tonks as she plopped into the armchair next to him—. Otherwise, what would have become of me?

Remus half-opened his eyes and gave her an inquisitive look, though he couldn’t hold back a faint smile.

—Not sure you needed rescuing. You seemed to be handling it… more or less.

—Don’t underestimate me —she replied playfully, propping her elbow on the back of the chair and looking at him with amusement—. I’ve faced many things in my life, but an entire afternoon buried in old texts… that’s another level.

A wave of laughter rose around them. Remus glanced at her sideways, halfway between amused and cautious.

—They were about to devour me. Or worse —bore me to death. But our dear Lupin here came to my rescue.

Fred and George, unable to resist, joined in.

—So brave! —exclaimed Fred, placing a dramatic hand on his chest.

—So heroic! —added George with feigned emotion.

—The saviour of the oppressed by literature! —commented Arthur Weasley, who, once the twins gained momentum, found it nearly impossible not to join the fun.

—Good thing we’ve got Sir Remus Lupin, our brilliant knight in shining armour —teased Sirius, pouring more butterbeer with a wicked grin.

Remus rolled his eyes, though the warmth of the camaraderie made him less uncomfortable than he expected.

—Don’t exaggerate.

—Exaggeration is our middle name! —declared the twins in unison, earning another round of laughter.

Lupin settled back in the armchair and leaned slightly toward Tonks, who watched him with unmistakable mischief.

—And even if you didn’t need rescuing… what reward do I get for such a feat? —he asked softly, with mock seriousness.

She touched her chin as if pondering the matter deeply.

—Mmm… I’ll grant you the privilege of my company, which is worth its weight in gold —she replied, eyes sparkling—. And a brindis.

Remus opened his mouth to protest, but it was already too late.

—I propose a brindis! —announced Tonks, rising with solemn grandeur and lifting her butterbeer—. To former Professor Lupin, the current hero of Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

—To Lupin! —everyone echoed, raising their glasses enthusiastically.

Remus covered his face with one hand, letting out a sigh of resignation.
But when he lowered it, a small —but genuine— smile curved his lips.

Tonks smiled with satisfaction, as if she knew she was getting exactly what she wanted: coaxing Remus out of hiding. Out of his walls.

And for a moment, he wondered whether the idea bothered him at all.

There she was —her closeness, her energy, her honest way of being— slipping through the barriers he had built so carefully.

As if Tonks didn’t even realise what she was doing… or as if she realised perfectly and simply didn’t care.

And that ease, that naturalness with which she pulled him out of the shadows he had grown used to living in, out of those quiet corners he called home, frightened him.

But at the same time, he liked it far more than he was ready to admit.

……………………………..……………………………..……………………………..……………………………..……………………………………………………………………..……………………………..……………………………..……………………………..……………………………………………………………………..…………………………

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

Well, today I’m leaving you with a short, slice of life chapter, but if I had continued it, it would’ve become way too long and heavy. I hope you’re okay with it this way. I’ll try to upload the next one relatively soon (as soon as I finish translating it into English, which is… clearly my kryptonite).

I really love the Grimmauld Place setting, I’m sure you’ve noticed by now. It’s a completely underused location both in the books and especially in the films. I do understand why Rowling didn’t spend more time on it, considering it’s a long book and Harry has a lot going on. But still, I’m not complaining. Just pointing it out. And taking full advantage of it.

I hope you’re enjoying the story as I keep weaving everything together. I think part of the charm of Tonks and Lupin is that they’re both terribly slow at realising the chemistry between them. And I love that. Also, as you can see, I enjoy building lore. This universe has so much potential, and I promise you we’re going to keep taking full advantage of it.

You can see the chapter’s illustration on my social media —check out Instagram, TikTok, or Tumblr.

All my links are here:
https://lagatakafka.com/links/