Chapter 7

A name with character

The buzzing of quills writing on their own filled the air of the Ministry, mingling with the constant murmur of conversations and hurried footsteps.
Tonks crossed the bustling Auror division, weaving her way around desks and piles of parchment. Her hair, this time a striking shade of violet, stood out vividly against the prevailing gray of her colleagues’ robes.

“Tonks!” Kingsley Shacklebolt’s deep voice boomed from Moody’s office.

She froze, took a few steps back, and peeked through the doorway.
“Need something, boss?” she asked with a carefree grin.

Kingsley lifted his eyes from a document he was holding and gave her his usual calm look.
“Just wanted to confirm you turned in the surveillance report from last night. We need it to track movements in the southern sectors.”

Tonks let out a nervous laugh while rummaging through her pockets. At last, she pulled out a crumpled parchment and held it up.
“Here it is! I was going to hand it in yesterday, but… you know.” She waved her hand vaguely—an unmistakable “I forgot.”

He raised an eyebrow with a faint smile, took the parchment, and with a flick of his wand smoothed it flat, as if it hadn’t just survived hours crammed in the pocket of a robe.
“Sometimes I wonder how you manage to be such a good Auror when you’re this forgetful.”

Tonks placed a hand on her chest in an exaggerated show of indignation.
“Forgetful? I’m a prodigy of organized chaos.”

Kingsley chuckled under his breath, shaking his head.
“Prodigy or not, you’re on duty tonight. Don’t forget.”

“Again?” She frowned. “Are you sure someone’s not tampering with the rotation?”

“Don’t complain. It’s part of the job,” Kingsley replied in his usual steady tone, though a spark of humor glimmered in his eyes.

Tonks let her head fall back with a long, dramatic sigh.
“I know, I know. But does it have to be so boring? I can’t even trip over anything interesting.”

“Better boring watches than problematic ones,” Kingsley said as he rolled up the parchment and stood. On his way past Tonks, he gave her a pat on the shoulder.
“And if the night’s that quiet, use the time to catch up on the rest of your reports—you know they’re piling up.”

Tonks rolled her eyes at the mountain of papers stacked on her desk.
“Yes, boss, as if I could forget.”

Kingsley left the room, leaving her alone with the hum of the department and the looming threat of a long, dull night ahead.

“Prodigy of organized chaos,” Tonks repeated under her breath.
She smiled. At least it sounded better than “rookie Auror on night duty again,” she thought, adjusting her robes as she stepped into the corridor.

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The silence of the Ministry of Magic at such late hours of the night was almost absolute.
Only the occasional crack of a candle or the creak of parchment broke the stillness. In one of the deserted offices—Alastor Moody’s—a dim light floated above a desk cluttered with dusty documents.

Nymphadora Tonks was hunched over them, brow furrowed. She was on duty with Anthony Wall, an Auror a little more seasoned than she was. Since the night had been quiet, they had agreed to take turns keeping watch. At that moment it was Anthony’s turn to patrol the Atrium, but instead of using the pause to rest, Tonks had chosen to dive into her own investigation.
She had, however, made sure to finish a couple of reports first, hoping to avoid a morning scolding from Kingsley.

She stretched for a moment, arching her back, before returning to her reading.
The stillness of the Ministry offered the perfect intimacy to dig without interruption and without raising suspicion.

For hours, she had been combing through files in an attempt to dig up information on Balthazar Greaves.
The man was a ghost in the Ministry’s records: once an employee of the Department of Mysteries, dismissed years ago for reasons no one had deemed worth specifying. In every file she unrolled, in every parchment she opened, his name appeared and disappeared, swallowed up in a sea of impenetrable bureaucracy.

Finally, in an old disciplinary incident report, her patience bore a small fruit:
“Attempted unauthorized access to Room Fourteen of the Department of Mysteries.”

It gave no details about what the room was or what it contained. In fact, there was no official mention of its purpose anywhere. Tonks clicked her tongue in frustration.

She moved on to another report.
“Improper handling of highly restricted magical objects.”
Nothing else. No details. No context. As if someone had made certain everything was wrapped in the same shroud of secrecy that guarded the Department of Mysteries itself.

“Well, that’s one way to stop employees from getting up to dodgy business,” she muttered under her breath, rubbing her eyes.

Time passed without her finding anything more substantial. Only vague references, incomplete reports, missing details. With a sigh, she leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes for a moment.
In the end, all she had managed was to confirm what she already knew: Greaves had been involved in something big, but the Ministry, true to its habit of secrecy, had buried it under layers of disconnected paperwork.

A sharp noise pulled her out of her drowsiness. She blinked, her eyes heavy and dry.
The office door opened firmly, letting in a draft of cold air from the corridor.

In the doorway, Alastor Moody’s imposing silhouette was outlined against the dim light of dawn. His magical eye spun with a metallic click before fixing on her, assessing her with his usual scrutiny.

Tonks rubbed her face with one hand and straightened in her chair, trying to disguise the fact that she had dozed off on top of a pile of documents. She stifled a yawn before muttering, her voice thick with sleep:
-Night’s over already…?”

-More like day’s begun,” Moody growled.

His magical eye slid over the desk crammed with scrolls, files, and restricted books. Among them, his protégé looked like a bundle of exhaustion: dark circles shadowed her face, her reddened eyes shone with fatigue, and her hair, this morning a faded shade of chicken-blond, was even more rebel than usual.

The old Auror clicked his tongue and twisted his lips into a crooked grin—his version of a smile.
“Go on. Head to headquarters. Molly Weasley’ll see you fed with a proper breakfast.”

His gaze—both eyes this time—returned to the chaos of documents.
“Leave these to me,” he went on. “I’ll see what I can make of them.”..

As he spoke, he glanced over his shoulder toward the office’s half-open door. Paranoia, more than habit, compelled him to make sure no one would arrive too early and find them here with information his trainee had no business handling.

Tonks tilted her head in a lopsided smile, too tired to argue. Her muscles ached, her mind was foggy, and her stomach was an empty knot of frustration. There was no point in insisting when sleep blurred her judgment.

With a weary sigh, she rose to her feet, her movements clumsy. She slung her cloak over her shoulder, gave the paper-covered desk and her mentor one last glance, and stepped out of the office.

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Her steps carried her straight to Grimmauld Place.
She could almost smell the toast and coffee as she waited by the door, hugging herself against the chill of the morning, her stomach growling while the Fidelius Charm recognized her.

Even though she knew the Weasleys were inside and that the house’s gloomy atmosphere had begun to shift, the crest above the doorway still made her feel small.

That feeling vanished the moment she stepped into the kitchen. She was immediately enveloped by the comforting aroma of butter melting over freshly baked bread. The gentle bubbling of the kettle and the hum of the coffeepot completed the scene.

Molly Weasley, apron tied firmly at her waist and hair tousled from the morning rush, turned at the sound of her arrival and greeted her with a maternal smile.
“Sit down, dear, you look exhausted.”

Without waiting for a reply, Molly helped her out of her cloak. Within seconds, a steaming cup of coffee appeared in Tonks’s hands, followed by a plate of hot toast.
“Thanks, Molly. You’re an angel,” the young Auror said, bringing the cup to her lips.

The warmth of the ceramic soothed her chilled fingers, and the first sip gave her a spark of energy.

A soft tapping at the window broke the calm.
Molly glanced both ways before hurrying to open it. A tired-looking owl slipped inside with a faint flutter, shaking out its feathers after a long journey.

“Good morning,” Arthur Weasley greeted as he stepped into the kitchen, hiding a yawn.

He wore his office robes, tie slightly askew, and reached for the cup of coffee Molly had already set out for him.
“Good morning, Arthur,” Tonks answered with a sleepy smile.

Arthur glanced at the owl, now perched on the counter with ruffled feathers. He fetched a bowl, filled it with water, and placed it before the bird. The owl dipped its head gratefully and drank eagerly.
Meanwhile, Arthur pressed a kiss to Molly’s cheek before focusing on the letter she held, brows furrowed. His eyes darted across the page as though he wanted to memorize every word.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs announced Sirius Black’s arrival. He descended with the careless gait of someone who paid no mind to schedules, barefoot and still disheveled.
“Well, look who’s back from her watch!” he exclaimed in a teasing tone when he spotted Tonks.

She lifted her eyes from her coffee and gave him a half-smile.
“Hey, Black. Up this early? Or did you not sleep either?”
“Sleep? What’s that?” Sirius quipped, dropping into the chair beside his cousin.

Without missing a beat, Molly placed a cup of coffee in front of him, which Sirius accepted with a slight nod. Meanwhile, Arthur finished reading the letter.

Noticing Tonks’s inquisitive glance, Sirius diverted his own gaze to the owl still perched on the counter.
“News from Romania?” he asked with interest.

Tonks frowned, curious.
“From Romania?”
Arthur lowered the letter and nodded.
“Yes, our son Charlie works there—with dragons.”

Tonks’s eyes lit up with a spark of surprise and admiration.
“Charlie’s in Romania—with dragons?”
“Yes,” Arthur confirmed with a proud smile. “He works at a reserve in the Carpathians. He always had a gift with magical creatures, and dragons are his specialty.”

Tonks couldn’t help but sigh, a smile slipping unbidden across her lips.
“Charlie Weasley…” she murmured, savoring the name with something more than casual interest.

She’d spent an entire school year infatuated with him.
Quidditch captain for Gryffindor—strong, handsome, with that open, lively nature that made everyone feel at ease around him. And she? Just a Hufflepuff Beater, always searching for an excuse to talk to him after matches, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he would see her differently.

He never did.

She could still remember her Hufflepuff friends teasing her about her crush, encouraging her on to confess once and for all. “Come on, Tonks, the worst that can happen is he says no and you fly off on your broom with ouyr dignity.” She always pretended it didn’t matter, that it wasn’t serious, but deep down she wished Charlie would notice her.

She never found the courage to tell him—not seriously, anyway. She had settled for the small moments on the pitch, the laughter after games, the casual smiles he’d toss her way in the corridors. Moments that, though fleeting, were enough to feed her silly schoolgirl crush.

And now he was in Romania, surrounded by dragons, living the thrilling, dangerous life she had always imagined he would.

Shaking her head, she laughed softly at herself. Truth was, though the memory still drew a foolish smile, her old crush on Charlie Weasley had long been closed.
Still, she couldn’t help but think that if fate ever brought them together again, she wouldn’t mind sharing a butterbeer and reminiscing about those days when she thought a Quidditch match could change everything.

Tonks blinked and snapped out of her reverie, just in time to meet Sirius’s amused half-smile.
“You looked like you were off in another world,” he teased, eyebrows raised. “What were you thinking about?”
“Nothing,” Tonks replied with feigned indifference, though a mischievous smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and stretched, feeling fatigue weigh down her muscles.
“Just leftover sleep.”

Sirius slung an arm over the back of his chair, studying her curiously but not pressing the matter.
“How was watch?” he asked, leaning in with interest.

Tonks set her cup down and shrugged.
“Quiet. Boring. Not a single suspicious soul about.” She pulled a face, as if the lack of action had been almost disappointing. “Actually, I used the time to dig into the Ministry’s files on Balthazar Greaves.”

Sirius raised a brow, intrigued.
“And what did you find?”
Tonks sighed, folding her arms.
“Nothing we didn’t already know. His name barely shows up in the records. Isolated mentions here and there, always in passing and never leading anywhere. Some references in old Auror reports, but no details.”

Sirius frowned, leaning forward on his elbows, thoughtful.

Before Tonks could continue, a movement at the door interrupted her.
Remus Lupin entered the kitchen with a book tucked under his arm, hair slightly tousled, clothes modest but neat, carrying his usual air of quiet calm.
“Good morning, everyone,” he greeted warmly as he approached the table.

Molly quickly looked up with a smile.
“Remus, dear, can I get you some coffee?”
“Yes, please. Thank you,” he replied, taking the seat next to Sirius.

Tonks resumed her report, her tone turning more professional.
“As I was saying, the information on Greaves is buried. Almost everything points to a dead end. Missing files, censored documents… Nothing solid, but suspicious enough to know something’s being hidden.”

A brief silence settled over the kitchen, broken only by the clatter of cutlery and the crackling of the fire in the hearth.

Sirius tapped his fingers absently against the table, lost in thought, while Remus sipped his coffee quietly, his book closed at his side, as though, for once, he wasn’t in a hurry to bury himself in its pages.

Molly passed by carrying a pile of folded laundry. She shot them a meaningful look.
“Make sure you eat something more than coffee,” she scolded lightly before disappearing upstairs.

From above came the sound of footsteps, laughter, and doors opening—signs the younger members of the house were waking. Sirius turned back to Tonks.
“Well, it looks like you’re settling into this mad life quickly,” he remarked, leaning back in his chair with a mischievous grin. “Though between your work and the Order’s missions, I bet you’re running around all day…”

Tonks sighed and gave a tired smile.
-It’s tough, I won’t lie. Being an Auror is exhausting enough on its own: too much overtime, too many sleepless nights… Luckily, I’ve got Kingsley and Moody in the Order. They help me stay balanced and cover for me so no one at the Ministry suspects.”

She leaned closer to Sirius, a mischievous spark in her eyes.
“Though it wouldn’t surprise me if Scrimgeour has started getting suspicious with how many leave requests I’ve filed lately.”

“Auror…” Sirius rested an elbow on the arm of his chair and fixed her with a look.
“I always thought that was one of the hardest careers. You work directly with Moody, don’t you? How do you stand him? That paranoid old codger must be a constant challenge.”

Tonks burst out laughing, shaking her head. Remus lifted his eyes from his cup and smiled, as if he, too, had wondered the same thing.
“Oh, he absolutely is,” she admitted. “But I’m fond of him. He’s like a cranky old grandfather who spends the day grumbling and cursing and, instead of giving you sweets, throws knives at you.”

Remus let out a short laugh. Tonks, startled by his reaction, turned to him incredulously.
“Did I just make you laugh, Remus Lupin?”
He looked up with mock seriousness.
“It seems to me as an accurate description.”

“Oh no. You smiled. That’s significant,” Sirius cut in, teasing. “It’s not every day we see Remus Lupin put his book aside to socialize. This deserves to be commemorated.”
“Don’t start,” Remus huffed, rolling his eyes. He turned back to Tonks. “We were talking about Moody, weren’t we?”

She nodded, smiling as she picked up the thread again.
“Eccentricities aside, he’s an excellent mentor. Paranoid as Alastor may be, he’s almost always right. And I learn something new from him every day.”

“Sure, sure, but don’t tell me he doesn’t get on your nerves,” Sirius pressed, his eyes gleaming. “Come on, Tonks. Give us something juicy.”
She nodded with amusement.
“Believe me, my first days were a disaster. I was convinced he’d fire me before I even finished training.”

“Disaster?” Sirius repeated, delighted. “Please, enlighten us. I want details.”

Tonks settled more comfortably in her chair, ready for the tale. Remus watched her with a warm expression, cup of coffee in hand.
“Once he had me track a supposed fugitive all through Knockturn Alley. According to him, the man was planning a robbery and I had to tail him alone, no backup. I spent hours searching, asking around, casting detection charms, crouched in the rubbish…”

Sirius and Remus listened intently.

“And in the end, there was no fugitive. It was all a test. When I came back, exhausted, I found him sitting on a crate, perfectly calm, eating a sandwich.” Tonks raised her brows theatrically. “He looked at me and said, ‘The fugitive was you. Your stealth was so obvious I could track you with both eyes closed.’”

She rolled her eyes at the memory.
“He had me stinking of sewer water for half a week…for nothing.”

Sirius roared with laughter, leaning back in his chair.
“A sandwich? That’s brilliant. What kind of mentor does that…”

Remus allowed himself a small smile—just a subtle curve of his lips. But it was enough for Tonks to notice, and without realizing it, her own smile widened a little more.
“Well, with Moody you either learn fast… or end up humiliated even faster,” Tonks admitted with amused resignation, shrugging her shoulders.

The relaxed atmosphere was suddenly broken by a crash in the hallway, followed by the unmistakable sound of shattering glass.
“That elf…” Sirius muttered with irritation, springing to his feet. “I’d better see what he’s destroying now.”

He strode out, leaving Tonks and Remus alone.
For a moment, the only sound was Molly’s faint humming as she came back into the kitchen, apparently unaware of the awkward silence that had settled between them.

Tonks, searching for a distraction, turned her cup slowly between her hands. When she finally looked up, she caught Remus watching her from the corner of his eye, as if weighing the words he was about to say.
At last, he spoke:
“Why ‘Tonks’?”

She blinked, surprised by the question, then smiled—playful, a touch flirtatious.
“It’s my surname, Remus.”

He frowned slightly, clearly unsatisfied with that answer.
“I know, but I mean why introduce yourself as ‘Tonks, just Tonks’?”

She studied him, as if deciding whether to give a sincere reply or keep playing.
“And why not? It sounds more… professional. Besides, I can’t stand my first name.”

“What is it, then?” he asked, leaning forward a little, genuinely intrigued.

Enjoying the suspense, Tonks drew it out deliberately before releasing a dramatic sigh.
“Nymphadora.”

Remus let out a light, almost involuntary laugh that caught her off guard. She blushed instantly. Even her hair flushed into a reddish shade before she could stop it.
“Sorry,” Remus said quickly when he saw her reaction. “I wasn’t laughing at you, honestly. I’ve just… never heard that name before.”

Still flushed, Tonks lifted her chin in mock indignation.
“What? You think it’s strange?”
Remus shook his head, a soft smile crossing his face.
“No, not strange. It’s a name…” He paused, searching for the right words. “Unique. And, well… interesting, I’d say.”

Tonks studied him for a moment, deciding whether to believe him, then let out a quiet laugh, allowing the tension to slip away.
At the back of the room, Molly peeked in quickly, catching the spark between them. Smiling knowingly, she slipped out again without a sound.

“Don’t you dare say ‘horrible,’” Tonks warned, finishing her coffee with a mock grimace. “You don’t need to. I know. Everyone says it’s horrible.”
Remus raised his hands in surrender.
“No, truly. I mean it. It’s a unique name.”

This time Tonks turned her cup more calmly in her hands.

“It’s not that I hate it…” she began, almost as if thinking aloud. “But when I joined the Aurors, Mad-Eye asked me the same question. And you know what happens when Mad-Eye asks something: he fixes both eyes on you, like he can see things you don’t even know you’re thinking. My knees were shaking so badly I thought I’d collapse.”

She rolled her eyes with a theatrical sigh.
“He asked my name five times. Five! As if he didn’t believe me. In the end he said it was ‘too stupid to remember’ and decided to call me Tonks.”

Remus let out an amused snort.
“Quite the introduction.”

“And to make matters worse, right at that moment my hair turned a blazing shade of red and spiked up like a hedgehog.”
Her face twisted in mock despair.
“I looked like a bloody lighthouse. Very professional.”

Remus laughed, more openly this time, as if he could picture the scene perfectly.
Tonks rested her chin in her hand, ending the story with a resigned smile.
“That was my glorious entry into the Ministry. I suppose that’s why Mad-Eye took pity on me and decided to take me under his wing. I must’ve looked pathetic,” she added with ironic humor.

Remus shifted in his chair, meeting her gaze.
“I don’t think pity was the reason Moody chose you,” he said sincerely. “I’m certain he saw something special in you.”

Tonks arched a sceptical brow.

“That’s your first impression of me? That I’m… what, ‘special’?” she asked with mock offense, though her eyes gleamed with mischief.

Remus laughed again.
And Tonks, unable to help herself, smiled too, feeling a bit foolish. Maybe it was the exhaustion… but she found that laugh simply, unexpectedly, charming.

Before the moment could stretch further, Sirius returned to the kitchen. One might have thought he’d been waiting in the hallway for just the right time to walk back in.
He sat, poured himself more coffee, and spoke with a thoughtful smile.
“Mad-Eye… Always his own style.”

Tonks turned toward him with a mischievous look, raising her cup as if asking for backup.
“Yeah, well… now he knows my name all too well. And when he wants to get under my skin, he calls me Nymphadora,” she added, rolling her eyes theatrically.

Remus lifted his cup and tapped it gently against hers.
“I get your struggle. But for the record, I like the name Nymphadora.”

Tonks’s brows shot up at the sincerity in his tone.
“Really?”
Remus nodded, smiling again.
“Yes. I think it’s a name with character.”

She studied him for a moment, as though processing what he had just said. Then she leaned back, took another sip of coffee, and ran a hand through her hair, trying to hide the satisfaction curving her lips.
“Thanks for that. But… I don’t think it fits me. I’m no lady, Remus. I’m more of a warrior,” she said, winking.

Sirius burst out laughing, and Remus followed with a warm chuckle that filled the kitchen. Tonks joined them, letting the laughter float in the air, light and comforting.

“To Tonks, just Tonks—the warrior,” Remus declared, raising his cup again.
Sirius and Tonks clinked theirs against his with conspiratorial smiles.

“To Tonks!” they echoed together.

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AUTHOR’S NOTE

At last we get to see Tonks at the Ministry, in her natural Auror habitat… though in her case “natural habitat” means crumpled reports, sleepless nights, and dozing off on a pile of papers. Still, little by little we start to see how the Order is investigating and how that web of secrets around Balthazar Greaves and the Department of Mysteries begins to take shape.

I want the main storyline – Harry, Voldemort, the Ministry, Lucius Malfoy, the prophecy – to build itself slowly. For me, the Order doesn’t begin knowing what they’re after. They’ll figure it out step by step, like pieces of a puzzle. Let’s see if I can convince you with my way of making them investigate.

What I love most about this chapter is the contrast: the darkness of the Ministry versus the warmth of the Weasley kitchen. Tonks goes from digging through dusty files to sharing coffee and laughter with Sirius and Remus. And yes! Here we start to glimpse that bond between the three of them that will become one of the driving forces of the whole story.

And I have to admit I had way too much fun with the name conversation. I always thought that no one, in Tonks’s entire life, had ever told her they actually liked the name Nymphadora. And then along comes Remus, calm and honest as ever, and casually drops: “I think it’s a name with character.” 🥲 Of course I had to let her smile slip through at that point—just as I couldn’t help but let mine do the same while writing it.

So yes, this chapter has a more everyday feel, but I think it’s necessary: I love alternating the Wizarding World thriller vibe of the investigations with lighter, more human scenes. Because Auror life isn’t just conspiracies and shadowy alleys… it’s also shared breakfasts, cups of coffee, and little confessions.

Tell me what you think!
And remember I’m posting fanfic-related illustrations on Instagram and Pinterest (and soon also on my website, which will work as a kind of headquarters for all this). Drop by whenever you want – nothing makes me happier than seeing how this world is starting to grow in images as well as words.

Thanks for reading all the way through, and see you soon 💜