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A different kind of Magic

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Old January 4th, 2008, 1:31 pm
NoraLupin  Female.gif NoraLupin is offline
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A different kind of Magic

I've been writing this story for some time now, and my sister agreed that I should post it here, so here it is. I hope some of you will like it. I'm still not sure how I feel about it so I would really appreciate it if you let me know what you think of it when you've read it. Even the most negatif comments are welcome
Feedback thread:

This story starts in PoA, at the beginning of the new school year. Head characters are Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin.

(English is not my first language and I don't speak it as well as I would like to, I hope it's good enough for everybody to understand it

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Lupin, Tonks or any other character from the Harry Potter books, they belong to JKRowling © Same goes for all the other HP related stuff used in this piece of fanfiction.


A Different kind of Magic

Chapter one: Welcome Back

“Eleonora Darcy,” professor Sprout calls. No one answers. “Eleonora Darcy?” she says again.

Oh damn! That’s me! “That’s me!” I call.
Damn, I forgot. Eleonora Darcy, Nora. That’s me, or that is who I am supposed to be for the next year. I curse myself again. I really need to get used to that name, else this will never work. When I made up the name, I was sure I would be able to get used to it quickly. Eleonora, Nora. That’s not too different from my actual name: Nymphadora, Dora for short, or Nora. Maybe the problem is that I always make sure people call me by my last name, which is most certainly not Darcy, like one of my favourite fictional characters, but Tonks. However, I'd better start answering to Miss Nora Darcy now. It’s my last test before officially becoming an Auror. I cannot afford to blow this job. I of all the people should be great at undercover work.

As professor Sprout hands me my time table I go over my story again. Eleonora Darcy, seventeen years old, in her seventh and last year of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Formally attended to Beauxbatons in France, but moved to England because of family circumstances. That is what I will stick to the coming year. And I will kill myself if I screw this up. Or maybe Scrimgeour will do that for me.

Why on earth does that old fool want an undercover agent at Hogwarts? There’s no place in the world saver than here, especially with Dumbledore around. No way, Sirius Black will be able to sneak in here and kill a bunch of students. But well, who am I to second guess my boss’ decisions. I won’t complain, there are worse places to be undercover. This might actually be very comfortable. As long as Black doesn’t decide to turn up around here.

Actually, I should hope that! That’s the whole point of being here. Catching Black. Or well, help my superiors catch him, I still don’t have the authority to go after him myself. Just this job, and then I will.

I sigh, - yep, no pressure at all, relax, enjoy your stay- I mumbled under my breath. This is unfortunately not a holiday.

I start checking out my timetable. How weird to be back at school after more then three years and nothing has changed much. I will be following the same subjects as I did before. It would be great if I still remember a lot from back then, that would make everything so much easier – why can’t they just hire someone to send me the essays I will need to do? This wasn’t in the job description!

Let’s see. I’ve got Herbology still from Sprout. Good teacher, kind person and the head of my house, Hufflepuff. Transfiguration, McGonagall., that will be just the same as always. Although I’m not the old me now, haven’t got into trouble yet, so maybe she will be less severe on me now. Potions, ah off course, still Snape, stay out of his way and I’ll survive. Five years ago I set his dungeon on fire, accidentally of course. He wasn’t too thrilled about that. I should remind myself not to do that this year. Charms, always fun with good old Flitwick. And last but not least Defence against the Dark Arts, a new teacher, as always. Never heard of him, but I’m sure we’ll get along just fine because I happen to be very good in DADA, sort of made it my job right?
My first hour is free today. That’s always the best way to start a day. Tomorrow I have to wake up for a double hour of Potions, less ideal.

I walk back to the Hufflepuff common room. It’s nice to be back, I always loved this room, but unlike before, I don’t have many friends. In fact, none at all. The few people that are sitting in the comfortable chairs look at me curiously. A new face and not a first year. That doesn’t happen often – Yes people, I agree I am a very interesting phenomenon, now please look away, it’s rude to stare. I walk through a door that leads to the bathrooms. In front of the mirror I stop.

A new face, even for me. Even though I have the ability to chance my appearance in anyway I like, I rather just be myself all the time. It’s surreal to walk around with another face. I never had the desire to give myself the perfect pretty face, which girls in my years at school could never understand. For this whole year however, I will walk around with a face that is not my own.

My hair is now curling around my face in a shade of brown. My face is slightly longer, as is my nose, and my lips are a bit larger and fuller. But my eyes I left the way they’re supposed to be, deep and dark. Black compared to the ivory colour of my skin, which I also left the same.

My black school robes make me look a bit pale though. But one can’t have everything. I think of the black flat shoes that go with these robes, lying somewhere under my bed. I can’t walk comfortable on shoes like that, ugly, flat, that would be as if I was missing a part of my body. But I’m a genius and came up with the perfect solution. Two of the three school robes I bought are a few inches to long. No one will notice the high heels I wear under them. I lift them a bit, perfect, my favourite high stiletto heels, red.

I have a thing for shoes, spend way too much money on them, even though I already have too many pairs to fit in my wardrobe. My mom calls it an obsession. If it is, I don’t think it’s a bad thing. They are a piece of who I am. If you don’t like my shoes you won’t like me.

I drop my robes quickly as a girl comes in. She’s tall, blond and I’m almost blinded by the whiteness of her teeth as she smiles at me widely – Hello Miss England.
“Hi, I’m Isabel Shepperd, you must be the new girl from Beauxbatons? I’m in my seventh year as well. You were asleep early yesterday so we haven’t really met yet. I believe we have transfiguration together next hour, shall I show you the way?”

Thanks but no thanks, I want to say, I probably know a faster and better way than you do Blondy. But then I remember that I’m not supposed to know the castle at all. So I agree.

She smiles so wide I think her face is going to split in two and squeals; “yay, ok it’s almost time! Let’s go then!” And she walks out of the bathroom, leaving me no other choice than to follow her.

She starts chattering enthusiastically about the people in our year. Long story, about some Kevin who was dating Patricia but is with Melanie now, but Patricia ... gee, as if I care, I don’t know those people I stop listening after three seconds. She doesn’t notice and keeps talking and after a few minutes I start to wonder if she does ever stop talking.

I survive the journey to McGonagall’s classroom. Blocking Isabel’s overly cheerful voice out, I have gone over the five other, quicker ways to get here in my head. Never again am I going anywhere with Blondy. I’m sure she means well, but she helped me remember why I didn’t like most teenage girls when I was a teenage girl.

Transfiguration was a piece of cake. We had to turn pink roses into parrots. My parrot was still pink, which I did on purpose, he looked very pretty in pink. That was not why I did that, see; my pink parrot makes me an average student, not one that has done this already. I can’t be the top of my class at all times (I’m already planning on being that in DADA), I don’t need to get in the middle of the attention. That doesn’t mean I’m the worst of course. One parrot had leaflets instead of feathers, I’m just saying.


Ok that's the very first part, I have 2 more updates waiting on my computer. More of the story is handwritten, and has yet to be typed. I have very little time though, so after those two updates I already have waiting, it might be some time before I can post more.
I hope you liked it

Last edited by NoraLupin; February 22nd, 2008 at 7:18 pm. Reason: added link to feedback thread
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Old January 4th, 2008, 2:14 pm
NoraLupin  Female.gif NoraLupin is offline
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Location: Secret land of Daydreams
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Posts: 1
Re: A different kind of Magic

Chapter two: Expecto Patronum

After lunch we have a double hour DADA. Like I said, I’m going to be the best at that, but I will still have to control myself a bit. Even top students are not familiar with the spells Aurors use.

I wait one corner away from the classroom where the other students were standing. I really don’t feel like another round of “oh, you must me that new girl” and am I not suppose to get lost on my first day here, like first years do? When I peek around the corner I see the hallway is empty, apparently our teacher has arrived. I walk towards the classroom, my high heels tapping on the floor. I love that sound, I just hope it doesn’t leave to many people wondering what kind of shoes I’m wearing.

When I come in, Isabel starts waving at me enthusiastically in the front of the classroom. “Nora! Good, you found it! I saved you a spot next to me!” Yay, lucky me – I think as I walk towards her down the aisle. Why on earth would she want to sit in the front row? And why does she drag me down with her?

“Sorry I’m late professor; I’m new so I got lost.” I say to the man who is standing in front of the blackboard with his back to the class. He turns around.
“That’s okay, we haven’t started yet.” He smiles friendly. As his eyes meet mine, I get captured in his gaze.

Wow, those eyes. Light brown, golden spots, intelligent and warm, simply breathtaking. I tear my eyes away from his and sit down quickly, lowering my eyes to the surface of my desk.

“I am Remus Lupin, I will be your Defence against the Dark Arts professor for this year. A new year, meaning of course new spells, difficult spells I may say. And today we start with one of the most difficult.
It will be hard to produce this charm in a classroom. However it will be even harder when you are close to a Dementor and that is exactly when you will need it. I’m talking about the Patronus charm, which we will be practising this and the following lesson. Can anyone tell me how to use this charm?”

I look around, not surprised to see that none of my fellow students have got a clue. I raise my hand.
“The patronus charm will conjure up a Patronus, which will work as a shield between you and a dementor. The incantation to conjure it is ‘Expecto Patronum’ but will only work when you concentrate with all your might on a very happy memory.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself, five points to Hufflepuff” Lupin says. “The patronus is a kind of positive force, a projection of everything a Dementor feeds upon – hope, happiness, the desire t survive- but it cannot feel despair like humans can. So a Dementor can’t hurt it.

“Like Nora said you have to focus on a happy memory and then say the incantation, Expecto Patronum. Stand up now please”

The class rises and Lupin waves the furniture to the walls with his wand. “Ok, try it. Don’t be disappointed if it doesn’t work right away, it’s a very difficult charm with which many qualified wizards have problems.”

The students around me started practising. Problem for me is that I’m perfectly capable of conjuring a complete and strong Patronus. It will be very unusual if I can do it now, when it should be my first try ever. So I just stand here, occasionally waving my wand, sometimes mumbling the incantation, trying to make it look as if I was trying just as hard as the others.

Lupin is walking around the classroom, helping and encouraging the other students. I follow his movements with my eyes. Something about him had caught my attention, something in those eyes, something in his voice, in the grace of his movements. I do not know what it is but there is something about this man that intrigues me. Then I notice that he is coming my way, which might be a problem. I started waving with my wand again, hoping my pretend-trying was credible.
“Exepto Patronus.”

He comes to stand next to me. “That’s interesting, the one girl who knew the incantation from her head earlier, is pronouncing it wrong.” I look up at him - shouldn’t have done that. There is a twinkling in his eyes that sends butterflies through my stomach. But then they change and he suddenly looks very confused. Apparently shaking it off he says, “come on Miss Darcy, try a bit harder. The correct spell is on the blackboard.”

Giving in I say the spell out loud, correct this time, but without anything cheerful on my mind. Nothing happened.

“Try harder, don’t forget to concentrate on a happy memory”, he smiles encouraging. “Come on.”

- Ok whatever, have it your way. With his charming smile and twinkling eyes imprinted in my mind I mumble the spell. A white light appears at the top of my wand. A beautiful Cheetah emerges from it. The silver light it is made of is almost blinding. The magnificent animal shows its teeth and speeds trough the classroom. I love my patronus, it’s so beautiful, so strong and fierce.
I know they don’t have to be beautiful, they have to protect you, but there are few things in the world prettier then mine. At least that’s what I think. I hold up my hand to greet it as it returns to me and disappears in thin air.

I can feel the stares of other students burning holes in my back. Some applaud. Stupid, stupid, stupid, I shouldn’t have done that. “Very good” Lupin says, with a hint of surprise in his voice, “that was a very strong patronus.” He walks away to help others, while I am still cursing myself.

An hour later Lupin tells everybody to stop. “Enough for today,” he says, “keep practising. You’re all doing very well, next lesson we’ll continue.”

I pack my books away and want to leave the classroom with the others when Lupin speaks again. “Nora, a quick word please,” he asked.
God, my first lesson of the year and already teachers want a word? I didn’t even do anything wrong yet! This must be a new personal record.

“Extraordinary,” He says. “Such a powerful patronus in a first lesson, I got the feeling you had done that before. Am I right? Where did you learn to do that?”

Damn, what do I say to that? Come on! Think of a good excuse! “I… uhm… I … My dad! Yes, my dad taught me! When I was little I loved to see his patronus and when I was finally allowed to do magic at home he taught me.”
Great save girl, very convincing story.

Lupin nods. It seems he wants to say something else but hesitates. I decide to just go, I am late for Charms. When I reach the door he starts talking again. “Nora… What colour are your eyes?” Ok, uhm, what? What kind of question is that?

“Dark, nearly black.” I replied.

“No they aren’t, I mean… they were, but they changed.”

I freeze. That isn’t possible! I would have noticed! “No, you must be mistaken! Changing eye colours, haha!” I laugh, trying to sound genuine and hide my panic. Then I quickly walk out of the classroom.

The first bathroom I pass I enter. I stop in front of the mirror. O god. I curse myself for the hundredth time today.

Professor Lupin was right, now I know why his expression so suddenly became so confused halfway trough the lesson.
The eyes that look back at me from the mirror were no longer dark. They now mirror the eyes that I lost myself in earlier. The eyes that look back at me were light brown, with golden spots, the eyes of my Dark Arts professor.
This was not good.


The explaination about the Patronus Charm is almost litterally copied from PoA (blz 176) © JKRowling

Last edited by NoraLupin; January 18th, 2008 at 1:37 pm.
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Old January 4th, 2008, 2:21 pm
NoraLupin  Female.gif NoraLupin is offline
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Re: A different kind of Magic

I just opened a feedback thread:


Please, Let me know what you think of my story so far!!

Last edited by NoraLupin; January 4th, 2008 at 2:37 pm.
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Old January 5th, 2008, 11:07 am
NoraLupin  Female.gif NoraLupin is offline
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Age: 30
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Re: A different kind of Magic

Here's some more, Enjoy! It will probably take some time untill I can post more. Holidays really are way to short


“Hey Nora!” I hear when I’m walking along the aisle between the house tables. It’s dinner time. At the far end of the Hufflepuff table someone waves at me. As I approach I recognise Isabel. “Come sit here” she says as she pats the free spot next to her on the bench.

“Hey,” I say with a smile as I sit down, “thanks for saving me a spot.”

“Oh naturally. Nora these are Mia and Abbigail, they are the other girls that share our dormitory. I believe you haven’t actually met.” The girls that sit on the other side of the table smile at me.

“You can call me Abby, most people do,” says the petit girl with thick dark brown hair and astonishing blue eyes. “So, changing schools in your seventh year, that can’t be so great.”

“Not really no, but Hogwarts seems great, I’m sure I’ll feel at home here soon.”

“Why did you move?” she asks interested. “I can’t remember we ever had a new student here that didn’t start as a first year.”

“Family circumstances; my grandmother is very ill, and my mother moved to be closer to her. I transferred to Hogwarts to be closer to her if she needed me. I was really glad it was possible, like you said, it’s not really common.”

“Well, don’t worry, we’ll help you get to know the school and the people,” the girl with short orange hair, that Isabel introduced as Mia tells me. She smiled brightly. “Lesson number one: The teacher with the greasy hair that looks like he hates shampoo? That’s Snape. I hope you don’t have potions; he’s not the greatest professor.”

“Actually I do have potions”

“Oh poor thing, well, good luck with that. Can’t help you there, Snape and I aren’t the best palls. My cauldron exploded once too often in his class. I immediately dropped Potions when I got the chance.” She laughs out loud

I smile, Mia seems like a fun girl, Abby seems okay to, and maybe even Isabel isn’t so bad, when she stops talking every once in a while. We pass dinner chatting about the things they think I should know about Hogwarts. I just need to keep reminding myself though, that I’m not supposed to know anything about the school or the teachers.

After dinner we make our way to the common room together. There we sit down in the soft chairs in front of the fire place, what seems to be the place were the others usually hang out. They’re a tight group of friends, probably because they’re the only seventh year girls in Hufflepuff. They explained to me that, most girls of our year were sorted in Ravenclaw and there were more boys then girls to be sorted that year.

None of us have much homework after today; teachers spent most of the time talking about the upcoming NEWT exams. That will probably change tomorrow, and this will be the last evening till the next holidays that we can spend doing nothing.

“The new guy seems okay.” Izzy states when Mia starts telling me about the curse that lies on the job of Defence against the dark arts professor. “Nora and I had DADA this afternoon. It was a pretty great lesson. This new charm we’re learning, it’s pretty cool! Very difficult though, my patronus is nothing more then a bit of white smoke, I’ll hope it will get better. Nora’s was amazing.” She turns to me. “It really was amazing, and it was such a beautiful animal! I hope mine is just as wonderful!”

“What’s a patronus?” Mia asks.

“Oh, I keep forgetting you guys don’t have DADA. That’s so weird. A Patronus is like a guardian. It protects you form those Dementor things outside. Well, if you cast a strong one they do. Why don’t you show yours Nora?”

“What? Oh uhm… I don’t know if I should do that here” I say quietly, not feeling like calling the attention of all the students in the room on me.

“Aw come on! We want to see it! It’s so great, even professor Lupin was astonished.”

I’m going to regret this, I think, as I call back a happy memory. “Expecto Patronum” I say softly. And there it is again. The great cat made out of silver light. For a moment I let the others admire it, knowing that at half of the room is probably looking by now. Then I make it disappear again.

Mia and Abby are looking in an awe at the spot were my patronus just disappeared.
“Damn why did I give up DADA”, I hear Mia mumble.

Isabel starts practising the patronus charm. I soon decide to go to the dormitory and read a bit in one of my favourite muggle-novels that I brought, before I go to sleep.

I change quickly and jump on my four poster bed after grabbing my battered copy of Pride and Prejudice. After reading the first chapter however, I notice that I have no idea what I just read. If I didn’t know the story from my head already that is. I throw the book aside, roll on my back and close my eyes. Going over my day I soon end up thinking about the new DADA professor, about his beautiful eyes.

The moment I picture those perfect eyes, the sound of the door bursting open disturbs my dreaming. I open my eyes to see Abby, Mia and a very happy looking Isabel come in.

“I did it!” Izzy exclaims, “it worked! I think it was a cat! I’m almost sure that it had four legs!”


^ Remus&Dora, made by the amazing burdge-bug (http://burdge-bug.deviantart.com/)

My Stories
A different kind of Magic
The Crumple-Horned Snorkack (one-shot)

for a good laugh, read my sisters Juliet-series,
Wanted:Romeo being the first part. I'm sure you'll enjoy it

Last edited by NoraLupin; February 22nd, 2008 at 7:19 pm.
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Old January 18th, 2008, 1:48 pm
NoraLupin  Female.gif NoraLupin is offline
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Re: A different kind of Magic

Ok, my test week is over, finally, so here's part of the update I promised. I hope you like it


Chapter three: Falling

The last lesson before the weekend is charms, after that is over I decide to go outside. I need a break. A break from this life that isn’t mine. A moment to be alone. It’s not as if I’m having a horrible time here or anything, don’t get me wrong. I actually like being back at Hogwarts very much. For seven years it was a second home, and it’s nice to be back after a while. Living as a student also isn’t that bad, though I apparently forgot how exhausting it can be; following lessons, making homework. I’m glad that it’s weekend now.

I step outside and I’m greeted by the fresh autumn air. The sky above my head is grey but it’s not raining like it was the past days. I’m highly disappointed in the weather; it’s only September. Why hasn’t there been any sun the past week? It probably is the fault of those horrible Dementors. They affect the weather; Azkaban is always hidden in cold white fog.

I cross the field in front of the castle to the side of the lake. The water is mirroring the deep grey colour of the sky. A fresh wind moves the surface of the lake. I follow the shore line of the lake for a little while; till I reach the tree I was heading for.

When I was in my first year at Hogwarts, my best friend and I discovered a tree with letters engraved in the wood. The Marauders, it sais, followed by eight letters: JP SB RL PP.

With its many thick branches the tree is easy to climb, if you could reach the first branch that is. My friend, Liz, was taller than me, she could climb up easily. I was too short to reach the first branches. That’s why I used to drag my schoolbag full with books with me every time we went there. If I balanced on top of the textbooks potions, DADA, charms, herbology and transfiguration I could grab the lowest branch.
We used to sit there whenever we went outside. It was our spot. We could spy and laugh at people around us without them seeing us.

To mark it officially as ours, Liz once took a knife from the lunch table and we carved our own initials in the tree, under those of the Marauders, the mysterious people who had been here before us. We used to make up the weirdest stories about who they had been.

I trace my fingers over the engraftment, still there after all these years. DT, LW, Liz. I miss her; she went to live in America with Nate, a very good friend of mine as well. Like the castle, this tree brings back so many memories.

When we got older, we didn’t climb the tree anymore. Tree climbing is for kids. Liz sometimes said. I suppose I’m tall enough now to climb in without a stack of books to stand on, I never tried.

I stretch out my arms and pull myself up on the branch. Soon I am sitting near the top of the tree, shielded from the wind, hidden from the world. Finding a comfortable branch to sit on with my back resting against the trunk, I take my schoolbag from my shoulder and take out Pride&Prejudice, something I used to do back then too, reading in the top of this tree. Soon I drift off to another world. Where the perfect Mr.Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam have just arrived at Rosings Park.


“In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings are not to be repressed. You must allow me to tell you, how ardently I admire and love you”

From a distance a numbed sound of the snapping of a twig under footsteps tries to break through the fog that separates my mind from reality. But it doesn’t succeed because my mind is completely occupied by Elizabeth’s reaction.

“ you are mistaken Mr Darcy, if you suppose that the mode of your declaration affected me in any other way than as it spared me the concern which I might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more gentleman-like manner.”

Footsteps under the tree start pulling me back to reality, the world of pride&prejudice starts to disappear

“From the very beginning, from the first moment, I may almost say, of my acquaintance with you, your manners impressing me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, you conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others were such as to form that groundwork of disapprobation, on which succeeding event have built so immovable a dislike: and I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.”

How wrong she is, I smile to myself. Then a cough from someone right under where I’m sitting catches my full attention and makes me snap back to reality.

I bend forwards to peek down to see who is there. I notice that while I was reading, daylight changed into twilight. It must be late, I’m probably not allowed to be out here anymore. I see a man standing under the tree, facing the lake. I cannot make out who he is.

A small branch that I am partly leaning on for support suddenly snaps. The sound penetrates the silence. The man under the tree grabs his wand and squints around, looking for the source of the noise. Then he waves his wand and I’m startled by the unexpected effect of the Hominum Revelio charm. I jump a little, which results in me dropping my book.
In an attempt to catch it I reach out after it with both my arms. Of course this makes me lose my balance. A moment later I’m tumbling off my branch falling out of the tree.


FeedBack please!

quotes in Italic are from Pride&Prejudice by Jane Austen


^ Remus&Dora, made by the amazing burdge-bug (http://burdge-bug.deviantart.com/)

My Stories
A different kind of Magic
The Crumple-Horned Snorkack (one-shot)

for a good laugh, read my sisters Juliet-series,
Wanted:Romeo being the first part. I'm sure you'll enjoy it

Last edited by NoraLupin; February 22nd, 2008 at 7:20 pm.
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Old January 30th, 2008, 10:40 pm
NoraLupin  Female.gif NoraLupin is offline
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Re: A different kind of Magic

the Second part of Chapter three; Falling. Finally!
I hope you like it.


Air rushes past me as I close my eyes and wait for my body to collide with the ground. A second later I hit something, and together with this something, I fall a little further before the falling stops. With my eyes still closed I realise that I haven’t crashed into the solid ground I expected, but have landed on something slightly softer.

As the ‘something’ moves I open my eyes. The something turns out to be a ‘someone’ when I lift my head and meet the eyes of the person I happen to be lying on top of.

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry!” I say

“That’s okay, are you hurt?” Professor Lupin asks concerned.

“Not really, just some bruises I think. I guess I should thank you for the soft landing” I reply with a smile.

“No problem, uhm…”

Then I realise I’m still lying on top of my teacher. Quickly I jump up and away from him. He stands up as well and brushes some grass and sand off his shabby robes.

“I can’t believe I fell right on top of you, what are the odds of that?”

“Actually I was trying to catch you. As you see that didn’t work out to well.”

“Oh, well, thanks.”

He smiles at me, that charming smile. It makes my stomach flutter. Then I realise that’s not necessary because of his smile. What time is it really? I haven’t eaten anything since lunch.

“Why are you still out here?” Professor Lupin asks. “Supper was over half an hour ago, you shouldn’t go outside after that. Especially not with the Dementors out here.”

“I missed supper?” I ask shocked.
No! I’m so hungry, what did I do to deserve this? Falling out of a tree and missing supper both on one day? I’m starting to feel very sorry for myself.

Though maybe falling out of a tree wasn’t such a bad thing to do, not when you land on top of a very attractive man. Then I stop myself; no, there will be no thinking about professors that way, absolutely not.

“Yes, you did. Come, we should get inside, it’s almost dark. You’re new here, so I won’t take any points of Hufflepuff, but you’re really not allowed to be out here at this time.”

“Thanks.” I tell him. I walk to get my book that landed a few feet away. The grass tickles my feet, and I remember I left my shoes somewhere here when I climbed up the tree. I can’t spot them so I take my wand to summon them

“Accio shoes” My shoes come flying to me, I was wearing my favourite red heals, that’s why I had to take them off. There’s no way of climbing a tree with those shoes on. I quickly put them on. Then I walk back to the castle with Professor Lupin.

When we enter the entrance Hall my stomach makes a loud noise that makes my cheeks burn of embarrassment.

“I think you should eat something before you go upstairs.” Professor Lupin tells me.

“I think my stomach agrees”

“Then I’ll take you to the kitchens, the elves will be happy to get you something to eat, I’m sure.”

“Sounds like a very good idea to me.”

Automatically I start walking towards the kitchens where I’ve already been a thousand times before. In my hurry to get some food, I don’t notice I’m walking in front of Professor Lupin instead of following him.

“Nora, how do you know this is the way to the kitchen?” Professor Lupin asks me casually when I start descending the stairs that lead to the floor the kitchens are on, right underneath the Great Hall. His question makes me trip and I start falling to the bottom of the stairs as my feet slip from the steps. Luckily Lupin grabs my arm just in time and saves me from another couple of bruises.

“How many times do you fall down a day?”

“Many, trust me, I’m terribly clumsy.” I reply, blood rising to my cheeks. “Oh, and I really don’t know the way to the kitchens. It’s just that my friend Mia said she believed the kitchens to be somewhere down these stairs.”

When we reach the bottom of the stairs I make sure to let him lead the way. This is not a mistake I’m going to make again.

Lupin stays with me while I eat something. He says he will walk me to the common room when I finish my supper, because it will be after curfew and I will be in trouble if I run into anyone by myself. We talk a lot. He asks about how I had enjoyed my first week at Hogwarts and why I had changed schools. He listens interested to everything I tell him, and is all kindness. He smiles at funny things I say about my experiences the past week at my ‘new’ school and his eyes study my face while I talk. That’s probably why I have no idea what I’m eating.

We talk a while about France. He tells me I don’t have an accent at all. I’m glad that I lived in France the first ten years of my life, and prove him that I really do speak French. He may absolutely not suspect I am not a former Beauxbatons student.

Then he wonders if he may ask what I was thinking of when I conjured up a patronus.

“I’m just curious, I get it if it’s too personal. Then you shouldn’t tell me.”

I feel my cheeks go bright red, and I bend my head to my plate and stuff everything that’s left on it in my mouth. That probably isn’t too charming, but it does conceal my blush. At least it makes him leave the subject alone and I guide the conversation to a safer topic, quidditch. That’s what we talk about when he escorts me back to the common room.

I front of the entrance of the common room I trip over nothing in particular. That isn’t anything new to me, most of the time my own feet will do.

“Maybe you will fall down less often if you wear other shoes.” Lupin says as he holds out his had to help me get up.

“It’s not the shoes, the shoes are fine. I can walk very well on these shoes. I’m just terminally clumsy. That isn’t going to affect my choice of shoes.”

With his help, I regain my balance and then Professor Lupin wishes me goodnight. I watch him walk away and disappear around the corner at the end of the corridor.

I stand outside the portrait for a minute, my hand that was in his moments ago is still tingling. Then I shake it off and enter the common room. Avoiding surprised looks from students sitting in the room, I walk to my dormitory and go to bed. Ignoring Isabol’s questions about where I’ve been.


When I wake up the next morning I remember the funniest thing about the dream I had this night. Professor Lupin was there. I was falling, falling a very long time through nothing but white space till he was there and he caught me. There was a pink sigh in the background saying ‘welcome on cloud nine’. Lupin was in dressrobes, which were in the same shabby state his normal clothes are in. I was wearing a white dress. Go figure. And as if that isn’t weird enough; Sirius Black then came walking up playing the wedding march on a trumpet. Oh and Izzie, yelling that I was her very best friend in the whole wide world, until she changed into Scrimgeour wearing a pink suit.

Don’t ask me where that dream came from, I have no idea but my dreams tend to be a little weird


Why do updates always seem longer in Word?
Sorry it took me so long to write more, and sorry in advance for the long time you'll probably have to wait for more, again

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Old February 22nd, 2008, 6:18 pm
NoraLupin  Female.gif NoraLupin is offline
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Re: A different kind of Magic

It took some time again but here it is, a new chapter. I really hope you like it. Please forgive me for the way I'm screwing up the beautiful english language.


Chapter four: Loneliness

Weeks pass slowly, I get used to the routine of a students life, again. As October approaches, the weather grows colder, and the teachers keep giving us more and more homework. We have to prepare for the NEWT’s all year, they keep telling us. Isabol, Mia and Abby start to get pretty stressed already. Isabel jumps every time she hears the word ‘newt’. I have tried to calm her, told her it wouldn’t be so bad. But how could I say that? She asked. As if I knew. Of course I can’t tell her that I do know.

I am glad I don’t have to worry about those, I already got my NEWT’s. And there is no reason for me to study for them. That unfortunately doesn’t mean I don’t have to do the heaps of homework we get from our teachers. Every evening we spend over two hours in the common room doing homework. Done with your essay for Potions? Okay good, now start on the one for Transfiguration. The problem with teachers is that they don’t seem to realise that their subject isn’t the only subject we have. I once tried telling Professor Snape this in my fifth year, he nearly killed me.


“What was that potion-thing again that Snape kept going on about yesterday?” Isabel asks no one in particular. “Oh, yes of course” she then mumbles and writes something down, apparently she found the answer herself

“Can someone hand me my Runes dictionary?” Abby asks.

It’s Saturday evening around eight o’clock and we’re in common room surrounded by books. Saturday evening. It’s weekend for god’s sake. What the hell am I doing here? I’m a grown up, I want to do something fun in my weekend. I am so sick of this all!

I throw my quill aside together with my half-finished essay for Snape and stand up. Isabel looks up from the half full parchment she’s writing her potions essay on.

“Are you done already? Can I read it please, please, please? I’m still five inches short!”

“No, I’m not finished. But you know what? Screw Snape. I have got a headache, I’m going to bed. Please try not to wake me when you go to bed as well when you’re all done here.”

With that I disappear to our dormitory. There I sit down on my bed and try to decide what I’m going to do now. I cannot read. I’ve been reading too much the past hours. I can’t sleep, it’s only eight o’clock. My friends are all busy with their homework… What do I do now? I’m NOT going back to finish that essay. But there really isn’t much I can do… Unless…

I jump of my bed and pull my trunk from under my bed. I throw it open and after brushing several things aside I find the thing I was looking for. On the bottom of my trunk lies a folded, shining, silvery cloak.

Okay, this probably wasn’t what he meant, when Kingsley handed me this invisibility cloak and told me to use it in case of emergency. But it was him who forgot to define ‘emergency’. And in a way, this is an emergency, a matter of life and death. I could go crazy here doing nothing, I should safe myself from insanity!

I’m going out, I’m going to sneak out of the school and be myself for one evening. For one evening I will be able to forget about this stupid mission. For one evening I’ll be free to do what I like. There’s a secret tunnel that, I know, is not known by many people and therefore not guarded.

Liz once overheard an older cousin talk about it to his friends before she went to Hogwarts. She wrote it down in her diary at the time. In our third year she found it in there and we tried to find it. And there it was, under a statue that could be opened by a simple spell, a secret tunnel leading straight to Hogsmeade.

Before I arrived here this year, I had been trying to decide for days whether I should make its existence known or not. But I decided that it was impossible that Black knew about that tunnel, and haven’t told anyone about it. I am really happy with that decision right now.

I take the cloak and walk into the bathroom. In front of the mirror I morph my face back to the normal. I decide against my favourite pink hair and let it fall over my shoulders in a chocolate brown shade. The dark jeans and black, long-sleeved V-neck top I am wearing are fine, no need to change into anything else. Sure it’s a muggle outfit, but I like muggle clothes. In the dormitory I put my pillow under my covers en make it look as if someone is a sleep in my bed. Then I close the curtains of my four-poster bed. Hopefully the girls will think I’m asleep and don’t want to be disturbed, then they won’t even notice I’m gone.

I put my wand in the magically enlarged purse, crab my red cloak, throw my invisibility cloak on and leave the dormitory.

Without bumping into anyone I make my way through the common room and leave it through the portrait hole. The corridors of Hogwarts are empty and dark and silent. Now, after curfew, they are only lighted by the starlight that falls through the windows. Only at the stairs lights are burning.

Getting to the third floor takes me a little longer than I planned, but I had to take a detour to avoid something that sounded like Peaves throwing with something valuable.

Reaching the statue of the old one-eyed witch I tap the statues and whisper “Dissendium”.

The statues hump opens immediately and I hoist myself in the hole. After sliding down a considerable way I land on the cold, damp earth that is the floor of the secret passageway that leads right to the cellar of Honeydukes.

For what feels like ages I follow the twists and turns of the low, narrow tunnel. But it’s worth it, because eventually the tunnel begins to rise and I know I’m almost there. A little while later I reach the stone steps that would take me to the trapdoor to the Honeydukes cellar if I wanted to get there. But unlike the many times I used this passage in my schooldays, I can now disapparate right to the street in front of the Three Broomsticks, the local inn. So I exchange my invisibility cloak for my normal red one and leave it at the bottom of the steps, where I’ll find it again when I go back, and disapparate.

A moment later I am standing right in front of the Three Broomsticks. A welcoming warm light falls through the windows. Inside I see it is not as crowded as it usually is. The rumour of Sirius Black being in the neighbourhood apparently keeps many people inside in the evenings.

A cold wind sweeps down the street and I quickly walk inside, where warm air welcomes me inside as I step through the door. I do not however pull of the hood of my cloak, but keep it low over my face. One of the tables is occupied by two of my colleagues, Shacklebold and Dawlish. They know I’m stationed at Hogwarts and seeing me here will raise a lot of questions. So I keep my head down and hidden under the hood of my cloak while I make my way over to the bar where I ask for a butterbeer.

Soon Dawlish and Shacklebold stand up and leave. I take off my cloak. Sitting here sipping my butterbeer I realise that it has been a very long time since I went out. I can’t even remember when exactly was the last time I went out with people who I actually called my friends. The past years were all about becoming an Auror, and my social life has suffered under that very much. With Liz and Nathaniel gone to America, I really don’t have many real friends left here. With other people who were in my class at Hogwarts I have either very little or no contact at all. And now, sitting here where I used to come with many friends, I realise how much I’ve been missing it. Suddenly I feel lonely, and I cannot believe I have let it come this far.

I finish my butterbeer and I ask Madame Rosmerta for something a little stronger. She pours me a glass of firewhiskey which I drink quickly. The sudden feeling of loneliness doesn’t make me happy. I’m not planning on getting wasted tonight, but a bit of alcohol seems a pretty good remedy for these feelings.

When I put my empty glass back on the bar the door to the street opens and cold air is blown in. Footsteps approach the bar. Someone is coming to stand at the bar next to where I’m sitting. I trace a scratch in the wooden surface of the bar with my finger, not looking up to see who it is. Then a familiar voice that I recognise immediately asks for a butterbeer. Now I do look up. Next to me stands my defence against the dark arts professor. I study his handsome features as he waits for his butterbeer and thanks Rosmerta when she places it in front of him. Then he looks my way and catches me watching him. He smiles at me. His eyes twinkle. Butterflies.

“Hello,” he says.

“Hi,” I reply, giving him what I hope is a lovely smile.

Silence falls. I try very hard to think of something to say, to keep him from walking away.

“Cold outside, don’t you think?” I say. What? Seriously? Seriously?! I seriously started talking about the weather? What is wrong with me!

“Yes, probably because it’s such a clear night. You can see al the stars.”

“I noticed yes. It’s a pity there’s no moon.”

“I always find the night sky prettier without the moon.”

Another silence falls between us. I’m still angry with myself. The weather? What was I thinking? Well, apparently I wasn’t thinking at all.

“So that’s why you’re here then?” he asks after a minute of silence. I look at him, wondering what he means. “The cold. You’re here to get out of the cold?”

“Oh, no, not really. I’m just drowning my sorrows.”

“What kind of sorrows? Boyfriend giving you a hard time?”

“Nope. Work is, and the lack of a social life is.” Why am I telling him this again? Now he’ll think I’m pathetic.

“Poor you. In that case I can keep you company. Then you’ll have a social life, even if it’s just for tonight. And work… well my new job didn’t start out too great either. So if you let me buy you a drink, we can drink while we decide who’s life sucks the most.”

“That’s actually a very good idea,” I reply with a bright smile, “another firewhiskey please.”

He gets me one and I thank him.

“I’m Nymphadora Tonks by the way. Just Tonks please, or Dora if you must. I think my parents weren’t thinking straight when they named me.”

“Remus Lupin. Very nice to meet you Nymphadora Tonks,” he says and we shake hands.

From that moment the conversation flows easily. The evening flies by while we talk and laugh. I like him very much. He’s so kind, so genuinely interested in what I have to say, and also very nice to look at. I have no idea how much time passes but when I finish complaining about my boss who hates me I notice the bar is even less crowded than when I came in. Time flies when having fun.

I put my empty glass down on the bar, my third glass of firewhiskey, definitely the last tonight. I’m starting to feel slightly light-headed. When I look up I catch him looking at me intensely.

“What?” I ask. “What are you looking at?”

His lips curl in a crooked smile, which makes him look so good and wakes butterflies in my belly.

“Your eyes”

“My eyes?”

“Yes, your eyes. I find them fascinating. When you laugh they sparkle like stars against a dark sky. At other times they are like deep dark pools. I think you could drown someone in them.”

“I can murder with my eyes? Is that a compliment?”

He laughs.

“Yes, it is. Your eyes are beautiful.”

Now I blush. God I’m weak. One little compliment just knocked me of my feet. How pathetic.

“What? Shouldn’t I have said that?” he asks. I look at him questioning. “You suddenly looked slightly annoyed with something.”

“Oh, haha, no, that had nothing to do with anything you said, I was just thinking of something. Of course you can say things like that. Flattery will get you anything you want.” Uh oh, I think that was the alcohol speaking, not my usual subtle self.

For a moment I don’t know what to do with myself and let my eyes wander through the room. I look at the clock that is hanging behind the bar. It’s half past twelve. Tomorrow there are try-outs for the Quidditch teams and I’m planning on getting a position as Chaser. But if I want to make a chance, I will need to go get some sleep now.

“I really should get going,” I tell Remus, though I really don’t want to. I think I see a hint of disappointment flash over his face.

“You’re right, it’s getting late! I hadn’t even noticed!” he says. “Well, it was really nice talking to you; I hope we’ll meet again sometime.”

We both stand up and he helps me with my cloak. I smile at him.

“Well, goodbye then.”

“Goodbye Nymphadora.”

“Don’t call me Nymphadora.” I laugh, turn around and make my way to the door. There I look over my shoulder; he just turned his back to the door. I force myself to step outside, into the cold night.

I walk towards the end of the street, not yet feeling like apparating to the secret passageway. As I get near the corner of the street I hear footsteps behind me quickly catching up with me. The ugly scenario that forms in my head makes me reach for my wand. All alone in a dark street, I’d better be able to defend myself in case that proves to be necessary. But as I reach for my purse that holds my wand, I notice that I don’t have it on me. Stupid! What kind of person forgets her wand at a bar?

The person following me is now right behind me, and I turn to see who it is and come face to face with someone I hadn’t expect to see again tonight.

“Hey,” Remus says, “you forgot your purse.” And he hands it to me.

“Oh yes, thank you.”

Silence falls during which our eyes lock. I get captured in his gaze, not able to tear my eyes away.

“I hope you don’t mind, I just really need to do this,” he then whispers breathlessly. And before I have time to wonder what he’s talking about his lips are on mine. A moment later I’m leaning against the wall that was behind me, his body pressed up to mine. I place a hand on the small of his neck, pulling him as close as possible, deepening the kiss. What started tender grows harder and passionate. My knees weaken and I’m grateful for the support of the wall. The world around me disappears; I no longer feel the cold of the wind. All I feel are his lips on mine, all I want is more of him.

Then he pulls away. My lips beg for more, my body aches for his touch.

“I don’t mind,” I whisper, barely audible.

“Good,” he says, and places his lips on mine again.


FeedBack is very welcome! I always love to read your comments


^ Remus&Dora, made by the amazing burdge-bug (http://burdge-bug.deviantart.com/)

My Stories
A different kind of Magic
The Crumple-Horned Snorkack (one-shot)

for a good laugh, read my sisters Juliet-series,
Wanted:Romeo being the first part. I'm sure you'll enjoy it

Last edited by NoraLupin; February 22nd, 2008 at 9:15 pm.
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Old March 16th, 2008, 6:24 pm
NoraLupin  Female.gif NoraLupin is offline
First Year
Joined: 4815 days
Location: Secret land of Daydreams
Age: 30
Posts: 1
Re: A different kind of Magic

new update! It might be a bit short, sorry about that, but at least it’s something. It’s not very important, nor is it very interesting, but I hope you like it anyway Enjoy


Chapter five: Flying

Rays of sunlight, falling through the curtain, caressing my skin, wake me up the next morning. I try to turn, but two strong arms around my waist keep me from doing so. With my back against his chest I enjoy the sensation of the body of Remus Lupin so close to mine. The regular streams of air brushing past my shoulder when he exhales tell me he’s still asleep. His head is buried in the crook of my neck. In this moment there’s nowhere I’d rather be than here, in his arms. I feel like I’m dreaming.

I open my eyes, and he’s gone.
I’m back in my bed in the dormitory, the same bed I got into very late last night, or should I say very early this morning. I didn’t just feel like I was dreaming. I actually was dreaming. And it wasn’t the sunlight that woke me, but raindrops slamming against the windows of the dormitory.

I turn on my side and want to close my eyes again when Abigail emerges from the bathroom rubbing her hair dry with a towel.

“You know that Mia hates it when you use her stuff,” I tell her.

“Yes. Why?”

“Then why are you using one of her personal towels?”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are”

“Am not, these towels are for everybody, they’re towels of Hogwarts.”

“Then why does that one say ‘Mia’ on it?”

“Oh,” she looks at it “oops,” and continues drying her hair.

I close my eyes again. I’m feeling as if I haven’t slept at all.

“Uhm Nora? Didn’t you want to try out for the Quidditch team?”

“Yes,” I mumble very nearly asleep already.

“Well so did Isabel and she left half an hour ago to the pitch. Don’t you have to be there already?”

The second she says it I’m awake and standing next to my bed.

“What? What time is it?”


“What!” Merlin’s pants! I’m supposed to be there already! Why didn’t I set an alarm!

I get dressed in no time, setting a new personal record. Run out of the dormitory. Run back in to grab my broom and sprint off through the school.

It takes me five minutes to get from my bed to the Quidditch pitch. The rain has stopped but my jeans are soaked with mud from running over the grounds. Above my head several people dressed in yellow and black are up in the air on their brooms. The bright colour of their robes clearly visible against the grey sky. In the middle of the pitch stand many people, surrounding another boy dressed in Hufflepuf colours. Together with the four in the air, that makes five positions that are already taken. Two are free, one beater, one chaser. That is going to be me.

The boy on the ground is speaking to the group surrounding him. Apparently he is our team-captain.

A blast of wind hits me, blowing my hair in my face. I pull it back in a ponytail and take a deep breath. Then I start walking to join the group.

I notice there are mostly girls today. Very many girls really. All whispering with their friends and standing on their toes trying to get a glimpse of the boy in the middle. Among those girls I find Izzie. Her long blond hair blows in the wind, but even the wind doesn’t seem able to mess her perfect hair up. I’d never have thought see was a Quidditch player. And from the way she’s holding her broom I can tell she’s not a very experienced flyer. So why is she here? She turns around and sees me.

“Hey Nora!” she exclaims and waves. I walk towards her.

“I didn’t know you wanted to get on the team too?” she says when I reach her.

“I didn’t know you did either,” I reply. She blushes and giggles.

“Wow, there are very many girls here today,” I say.

“I know! It’s pathetic. Those over there,” and she points at a group of girls at the other side of the group. “They’re not even in Hufflepuff. They’re Ravenclaw!”

“Then why are they here?”

“They’re just here to see Cedric.” She giggles and looks over her shoulder at the boy in the middle of the group. It’s quite obvious that she herself is one of those girls she just called pathetic.

Cedric Diggory is indeed the captain of the Hufflepuff house Quidditch team this year. He also is very good-looking.He divides us in two groups; the beaters and the chasers. The beaters form only a small group, and quite quickly Diggory decides who is the best. Then it’s time for the chaser try-outs, and that is going to take a while.

After three girls who can barely control their broom when they’re also holding the Quaffle, and after one girl falling of her broom when she tries to throw the ball, Diggory starts looking pretty annoyed.

“Will everybody who’s not here to seriously become a chaser leave? Right now!” And the annoyance in his voice sends many admirers back to the castle. Five minutes later heavy raindrops start falling from the dark sky and the last giggling girls disappear.

Now only a small group of real players is left. It won’t be too long till we’re done I hope, because I haven’t had breakfast and my stomach starts making more noise than the howling of the wind.

Unfortunately it’s taking longer than I expected. And when my turn finally comes I feel like I’m going to faint of hunger. Two of the people before me were pretty good. Three had a better broom. Now it’s up to me to prove that I top them all.

It’s been a while since I have flown on my broom, and it seems ages ago since I have last played actual Quidditch. But it’s something you just never forget how to do it, right?

The moment I throw my leg over my broom and set of from the muddy ground I know that’s true.

I soar through the air, against the wind. Heavy raindrops fall on my head, soak my clothes that are already beyond wet. But I don’t care, because I’m flying again, I’m in control, in my element. I’m untouchable.


I got it, the position of chaser on the team. Of course I got it! I’m a natural, always have been. Why wouldn’t I have gotten it? Why was I even nervous and insecure about it earlier? Sometimes I don’t get myself.

Wet through, and with my jeans three inches deep in mud, I make my way to the great hall. Dinner has already started and I’m starving so I’m not going to bother cleaning myself up first.

Unfortunately my very muddy shoes are very slippery. Add slippery shoes to my clumsiness and you can guess that something will go wrong. And of course it does. Feet away from the entrance to the great hall there is mud on the floor, not yet cleaned up by a cursing Filch. Because my shoes can’t get muddier I don’t even try to walk around it but put my foot in the middle of the puddle. The rest is history.

My foot slips away from under me, I lose my balance, and I fall. It’s the story of my life.
Lying on my back half in a puddle of mud I roll my eyes to the ceiling and sigh. The delicious scent of food reaches my nose from the great hall.
Just when I decide I should get up and get to that food someone else comes walking through the corridor and stops next to my head.

“Are you okay?” my favourite voice asks worried. “Miss Darcy?”

I turn my head to the side where he’s standing.
“Good evening professor Lupin. I’m fine, thank you.” I smile.

“Then why are you lying on the floor?”

“I forgot how to get up?”

He smiles and holds out his hand. I take it, and climb back on my feet.

“Thanks,” I say, looking up at him. As they turn away from his eyes, which take my breath away every time they meet mine, my eyes fall over his lips. Those soft lips that are imprinted in my memory. If I close my eyes I can feel them on mine.

“I would like my hand back now,” his voice breaks through my thoughts.

“Huh? Oh!” I realise I still haven’t let go of his hand, “of course!” And I quickly pull my hand away from his.
Oh no, Awkward situation. Luckily my stomach saves my by making a very loud unflattering noise.

“I’m going to get something to eat now.” I say without looking at him. “Good evening, professor,” and I walk away quickly through the doors of the Great Hall. Wondering how I’m ever going to pretend to be that man’s 17 year old student for the rest of the year.


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^ Remus&Dora, made by the amazing burdge-bug (http://burdge-bug.deviantart.com/)

My Stories
A different kind of Magic
The Crumple-Horned Snorkack (one-shot)

for a good laugh, read my sisters Juliet-series,
Wanted:Romeo being the first part. I'm sure you'll enjoy it
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Old April 12th, 2008, 2:32 pm
NoraLupin  Female.gif NoraLupin is offline
First Year
Joined: 4815 days
Location: Secret land of Daydreams
Age: 30
Posts: 1
Re: A different kind of Magic

took some time, but here it is, first part of chapter six, I hope you’ll like it

Chapter six: Halloween

There’s supposed to be a difference between ‘liking someone very much’ and ‘being in love’. I just don’t see it. Being actually in love, I once heard, has something to do with chemical reactions in your brain, something that makes you see no fault in the person you’re in love with. But when you like someone very much, you don’t see much faults in them either, right? The difference can’t be very large.

Do you feel it? When you cross the line between liking and loving? Or don’t you notice it until you crossed the line so far that when you look back you can’t even spot it anymore? It must be a very fine line. If you like someone so much, you know you could fall in love, you’re probably already standing on that line, and it won’t take much to actually cross it. I think that’s where I’m standing, on the edge of ‘liking’ and every time I see him, I get a little closer to crossing the line.

“Tonks?” a deep voice says, “are you even listening?”

“It’s not as if you’re telling me anything new or interesting,” I reply to Kingsley Shackebold.

“I was actually. Black has been spotted in France. It seems he’s on the run for the ministry. The boy probably isn’t in danger right now.”

“Does that mean I can leave Hogwarts?” I ask eagerly

“What do you think,” Dawlish mumbles next to me, rolling his eyes.

“Shut up Dawlish,” I say annoyed and look at Kingsley for an answer.

“No, definitely not, till we catch Black we need someone to monitor the situation at the school. Scrimgeor wants you to stay.”

“But it’s pointless! Have you told him that? There’s nothing I can do there! What if Black comes marching into Hogwarts? What is there I can do about it on my own?”

“Are you really that stupid?” Dawlish sighs, ”You’re not alone, there are many teachers there too. Scrimgeor just wants you there to report to him what Dumbledore is doing about the situation.”

“Go to hell Dawlish,” Merlin, that guy always seems to get on my nerves, “the only thing Scrimgeour wants is to bore me to death with this stupid task, so he doesn’t have to put up with me. The only reason the son of a banshee makes me do this, is because he doesn’t like me.” I’m starting to get pretty angry now.

“Not completely true Tonks,” Kingsley says calmly, “maybe he doesn’t like you, but we really need to you at Hogwarts. It’s really necessary for someone to be there just in case something might happen there. I hope you’ll see that. I’m sorry you hate to do this so much.”

I sigh and lean back in my chair,

“It’s not that I hate it so much. Hogwarts isn’t a bad place to be. It’s just that I feel so useless there. But other than that I’m fine with it.”

“Then stop whining already!” Dawlish cries out.

Suppressing the urge to kick his shins, I throw back the last bit of my butterbeer and slam my glass back on the table, harder than necessary. Then I stand up, say goodbye to Kingsley and leave the Leaky Cauldron, ignoring Dawlish at all times.

I don’t know what it is about Dawlish that annoys me so much. No, I do know actually. In my first week at the Auror office he was all kindness and help, then he tried to feel me up, than he asked me to change into the woman of his dreams and ever since I refused to do that it’s impossible for him to hold a civil conversation with me. That I hate his guts doesn’t help much either. Why the hell did Kingsley bring him? He knows how much I dislike Dawlish.

Outside the Cauldron, in the walled courtyard that hides the entrance to Diagon Alley, I gain control of my emotions and disapparate to Hogsmeade.

The small town is filled with Hogwarts students from the third to seventh year. It’s Halloween today, and before the feast tonight the students are allowed to make a trip to Hogsmeade. That’s why my colleagues wanted to meet me today, the Hogsmeade trips are the only time I can get away from school (or that’s what they think). So after hanging around with Abby and Mia for a few hours, I sneaked away from them and went to the Cauldron so Kingsley could fill me in on the latest news on Sirius Black. What a complete waste of time had that turned out to be.

I still have an hour though before I should be getting back to the school. At the other side of the road next to the door of the Three Broomsticks a big orange pumpkin is smiling at me. I decide to go in for another drink.

As I walk in I remember last time I was here was the evening I officially met Remus. I haven’t been out of the Castle since. I hope he is here too right now, teachers often visit Hogmeade when the students go too. But when I squint around it turns out he isn’t here. Too bad, but I still want that drink so I make my way to the bar. On a free barstool I sit down and ask Rosmerta for a butterbeer. A pumpkin with a creepy smile on the bar wishes me a happy Halloween.

Someone sits down on the barstool next to me. I take another sip from my beer and look sideways. A young man with large ears and a face full with pimples is smiling widely at me.

“Hello gorgeous. I’m Stan Shunpike” the pimpled face says. I already knew that.

“I own the Knight Bus.” I also know that’s not true.

“ Can I buy you a drink?”

Why? Why me? What did I ever do to deserve this! I met him several times already when I had changed my appearance. Every time he tries to impress me and no matter how angrily I tell him to bugger off, he just doesn’t go away. Too sure of himself. Always telling how cool he is, how rich, how smart. Never one story that’s actually true. He’s a nice kid I guess, but he shouldn’t try to be someone he isn’t.

“I already have a drink” I tell him and turn to look the other way.

“I’ll buy you your next one,” he says, not getting the hint.

“No thanks.”

“You are beautiful…” he starts. I decide to ignore him, maybe he’ll just go away then.

That doesn’t work. I finish my drink, and he still hasn’t noticed I’m not interested, though I haven’t said anything for the last 10 minutes.

Something on the other side of the bar catches my eye. My heart skips a beat when I see Remus sit down over there. He gets a drink and looks around. Then he sees me. He smiles. Noticing Stan next to me his smile becomes a boyish grin. Yes very funny, I roll my eyes. He chuckles.

“Save me,” I mouth to him. Stan’s voice still buzzing in the background.

He finishes his drink and gets up. I wonder what he’s going to do when he comes my way. He walks up to me and slips an arm around my waist.

“Hi honey, how was your day?” he asks, taking me completely by surprise. For a moment I stare at him blankly, than I get it.

“Great!” I smile widely, “Darling, this is Shan Shunpike. Stan this is my husband, Tom.”

A moment later Stan is gone, and I have tears in my eyes of laughter. The look on the guy’s face, brilliant!

“Thank you so much,” I tell Remus giggling, “I thought I’d never get rid of him.”

“You’re welcome. Poor bloke, he was trying so hard.” Remus smiles. “Why change my name though?”

“Dunno, seemed like a good idea.”

“Hmm, I never thought of myself as a ‘Tom’, maybe a ‘Tim’, but not a Tom.” He grins. Silence falls, I wonder what to talk about.

“It’s nice to see you again,” Remus says softly. “I was hoping to run into you.”

“Me too,” I reply, “last time we were here was nice. I had a great time.”

He smiles.

“Good. That’s good,” he hesitates and looks at his hand lying on the bar.

“Would you like to go out? Sometime? With me?” he actually sounds shy. It’s sweet.

“Absolutely!” I smile brightly, “I would love to.” He looks up, his eyes twinkle happily.

“Great,” he says and smiles that incredibly sexy crooked smile that leaves me breathless for a moment. “Then I will owl you about that. I would really like to keep you company for a little longer, but I have to go.”

“Goodbye Nymphadora,”

“Don’t call me that!” I call out cheerfully as he walks away, “Bye!”

At the door he looks back and smiles. Then he steps outside.

The clock behind the bar tells me I should go too. I pay for my drink and get up. In the toilets I change my face and clothing. As soon as I leave the Three Broomsticks all I can think about is Remus, who wants to go out with me. Today I took another step closer to the line. With a heart filled with joy I make my way to Hogwarts, ready for a cheerful evening celebrating Halloween.


FeedBack please!

This was only part one of chapter six, we all know what happens on this Halloween, it’s not over yet.


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Old May 6th, 2008, 1:04 pm
NoraLupin  Female.gif NoraLupin is offline
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Re: A different kind of Magic

Yes it took me ages, yes I’m sorry, yes this is a new update! The second part of the chapter I posted a long long time ago. I hope you like it. From where we left it last time :


(...) -As soon as I leave the Three Broomsticks all I can think about is Remus, who wants to go out with me. Today I took another step closer to the line. With a heart filled with joy I make my way to Hogwarts, ready for a cheerful evening celebrating Halloween.


“Nora,” someone taps on my shoulder. “Nora!” Isabel calls my name again. “It’s over, come on let’s go back to the common room. Where are you with your head?”

I am definitely not going to tell her that. I get up and follow the others. The feast has been great, everything tasted delicious and the entertainment by the school ghosts has been very enjoyable. Not that I have seen all of it. It didn’t have my undivided attention, because my mind was partly occupied with thoughts concerning a man that sat on the table on the other side of the Great Hall. Every minute I would look at the teachers table, and my eyes would find Professor Lupin. I watched him laugh and clap his hands, he seemed to have a great time tonight. I had a great time watching him. No, I’m not a stalker, I just like to look at him, watching him makes me happy and well, he’s just very nice to look at. Merlin, I really can’t wait for that date he promised me this afternoon.

We arrive in the Hufflepuff common room only to get called back to the Great Hall by professor Sprout fifteen minutes later. That is unusual. Something in my professor’s voice hints that something is very wrong. Therefore, before following my fellow Hufflepuffs out of the common room, I run to the dormitory and fetch my invisibility cloak. Just in case.

My suspicion is proved to be right. Arriving at the Great Hall, where we meet up with the other houses, we are informed by Dumbledore that we will have to stay here for the night. Something is indeed very wrong, but the headmaster hasn’t told us what. After conjuring hundreds of ugly purple sleeping bags out of thin air, Dumbledore leaves the Great Hall. All the other teachers follow him.

The Gryffindors, who arrived in the Great Hall first, might know more. If that’s the case, the information will probably be spread as fast as gossip usually is, which is very fast. Around me students are already whispering anxiously. I don’t want to wait on news spread by my classmates, no matter how fast it travels, it takes just as little time for them exaggerate it and before you know it only half of the story is true. No, I need to get my information from a more reliable source.

I crouch down in a corner of the Great Hall while the students all choose a purple sleeping bag. and make sure nobody is looking my way as I throw the invisibility cloak over my head. Then I make my way to the door through which the teachers just left the Great Hall.

All the teachers have gathered in a room next to the Great Hall. I slip in after Professor Sinistra, who apparently is the last to join the group. I lean against the wall next to the door, as far away from the teachers as possible. I may be invisible, but I’m still here, breathing and all.

Dumbledore starts speaking calmly, “most of you have probably heard it by now, and yes, unfortunately it is true. I would not have believed it to be possible, but alas, Sirius Black has made his way into Hogwarts. How he succeeded in passing the guards of Azkaban and getting into out school is a mystery to me. He has slashed the painting that hides the entrance of the Gryffindor common room while we attended the Halloween feast.” Professor Dumbledore pauses and sighs, his clear blue eyes look worried. “Luckily he didn’t get inside the Gryffindor tower, nor did he come near any of the students, but the possibility exists that he is still here inside the castle.”

In front of me professor Sinistra and professor Vector exchange apprehensive glances. At Dumbledore’s side professor McGonagall is wringing her wrists nervously, flanked by a stern and dark looking Snape. Remus is sitting on a chair at the wall opposite of me, his elbows on his knees and hands in his hair.

Professor Dumbledore asks the teachers to search the castle. He assigns all of them a different part of the building. Soon the tasks are divided and the meeting splits up. I wonder what I should do now. I’m here to inform the minister about events like these. I’m here to help catch a murderer.

I can send the office an owl next morning. But what do I do now? This castle is enormous. I couldn’t look everywhere if they gave me three days, certainly not in one night. But someone who doesn’t want to be found, will probably hide in the more secret parts of the castle, that narrows it down a little, there are very many secret passageways, but I can at least check a few of them. It isn’t much, but I just can’t sit around doing nothing.

After running around for at least an hour, occasionally passing a teacher, there is only one secret passageway I know of that I still need to check. I don’t think it’s necessary, hardly anyone knows of it, but I better check anyway. The passageway to the cellars of Honeydukes, Hogsmeade. Of course, if Black knows it, he’ll be long gone I’m afraid. But like I told Scrimgeour a thousand times already, there’s not much I can do around here by myself when Mr. Black decides to pay the school a visit.

How did Black get in? That is the question that keeps zooming though my head. I can’t find an answer. I’m completely caught up in trying to find it anyway, thus I don’t watch where I’m going. The downside of being invisible is that others don’t see you coming, and though that’s usually the whole point of being invisible, sometimes it’s not that great. Like right now.

Turning quickly around a corner I walk right into the claws of the school’s pet-bat, Severus Snape. As soon as my shoulder bumps into his he jumps away as if something burned him. Raising his wand he looks around bewildered. I try not to move or breath.

Snape frowns and shots an evil glare into the corridor where I’m standing. “Potter,” he mutters. I slowly take a step back, and another, and another, and then there’s an ancient armour behind me. With an incredible amount of noise it crashes to the floor. Snape grabs my way, the material of my cloak glides through his fingers, but before he can take hold of it I pull it away and take off. Running through the corridor, not quite as soundless as I would’ve liked, I run past the statue of the old one-eyed witch. Nope, no one there.

Snape is still running after me, following the soft sound of my footsteps, clear in the silent corridor. I turn left into another corridor, several feet away hangs an old tapestry, behind it a long narrow staircase that leads two floors up. I slip behind it. I hope Snape doesn’t know about the staircase behind this tapestry.

Panting and wheezing Snape stops near the tapestry I’m hiding behind. I know I have won this game, he can’t find me, I’m invisible. Another pair of shoes walks into the corridor and joins Snape in front of the tapestry.

“Lupin!” Snape brings out angrily, still out of breath. “Did you hear Potter come your way?”

“Potter? What, Harry? He’s not here; he’s in the Great Hall with all the other students.” Remus sounds amused. The sight of a panting Snape may be funny.

“NO! He’s not! He’s here! Under his invisibility cloak! I know it! It’s so typical, we’re trying our best to keep him alive, and the stupid git goes walking around the school in the middle of the night while there’s a mass murderer out looking for him.”

“I’m sure Harry wouldn’t do that, don’t worry about it Severus.”

“Of course he would, just like his father he is prancing around, probably convinced he can take on Black himself.”

“James wasn’t that bad Severus, and Harry would never take a risk like that, I’m sure he too wants to stay alive.”

“No of course James wasn’t that bad,” Snape spits, “the perfect friends you had Lupin. And I assume you believe Black is innocent as well? I wouldn’t be surprised if you let him in tonight. Probably seemed like a nice prank, for old time’s sake?”

“I’m not going to listen to these unfounded accusations of yours, Severus,” Remus says coldly, all amusement gone from his voice. “Go back to your dungeons. Play big scary bat, wash your hair, leave me alone.”

I imagine Snape’s fuming face.

“I’m going to talk to Albus about this!” Snape threatens and I hear him walk away.

“You do that.” Remus says calmly.

Snape’s footsteps die away, and I start making my way up the narrow staircase, thinking of what I just heard. Did Snape seriously think Remus got Black into the castle? Why on earth would he think that? Maybe he’s delusional or just completely crazy.

Suddenly a trap step opens under my left foot and I fall. My leg is stuck up to my knee in the step. Now I remember why I never climbed this staircase all alone; because I always, always forget about this trap. Great, just when you think you’ve had it all. I’ll probably be stuck here all night.

When I’m done cursing myself I try to find a way to sit down on the staircase. With one leg trapped that’s not very easy, but I find a way, unfortunately it’s far from comfortable. The ankle that’s trapped in the step hurts, I must have twisted it when I fell.

It’s late and I’m tired. I have a talent, if that’s what you can call it, that I’m able to fall asleep anywhere when I’m tired, even on an uncomfortable narrow staircase with my leg stuck in a step. Slowly my eyelids start falling shut. I don’t even attempt to keep them open.

“Ouch!!” I groan when I’m woken by a sudden pain in my side. What the…
Suddenly my cloak is lifted from my face. Realising I’ve been discovered and am probably in trouble I open my eyes only to believe that I’m still dreaming. Kneeling a few steps up is Remus.

“Sorry about that,” he says, “I didn’t see you there. You really shouldn’t sit on the stairs when you’re invisible. I hope I didn’t hit you too hard, are you hurt?” A soft apologetic smile rests on his lips.

“No,” I reply sleepily. “I’m stuck,” – obviously - , “Could you help me out, please?”

“Of course,” He seizes my hand and pulls me up. A sharp pain shoots through my ankle. I flinch. Remus studies me apprehensively.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, I hurt me.” I explain, standing on one foot, “I think I twisted my ankle when I fell into that trap. It’s nothing really. Am I in trouble, Professor?” I ask.

“Possibly,” he answers. “Why are you stuck in a staircase at three in the morning while you should be asleep in the Great Hall?”

“Um…” think, think, think! “I went to the toilet when the others were on their way downstairs and um… got lost on my way back?” Genius - Yes he’s really going to believe that.

“You got lost on your way from the bathroom….under an invisibility cloak?” he raises an eyebrow.

“Exactly,” I say, nodding convincingly – sure, why not?

“Didn’t it occur to you that wondering around in the dark isn’t the wisest thing to do when something is so terribly wrong the teachers think it necessary for all the students to stay the night in the Great Hal?”

I decide against answering that. I just looked at him. Amused little lights sparkle in his eyes. At least he thinks it’s funny, maybe I won’t get detention or anything after all.

“Well,” he says, “I think a twisted ankle will do as punishment for tonight. Don’t let it happen again. I think it’s best if we get you back to the Great Hall.”

“Thank you so much professor!” I smile brightly. Then I put my weight on my left foot. A soft cry of pain escapes from my lips. I shouldn’t have done that, quickly I jump back on my right foot.

“Can you not stand on it? Maybe you should go to the hospital wing to have Madame Pomfrey look at it.”

“No, it’s fine, no need for that!” the pain will go away by itself.

“Are you sure? If you can’t walk on it…”

“Yes, I can!” and I put my foot down to proof it. Tears jump in my eyes. I try to walk up the stairs and nearly fall down.

“No, I can’t!” I admit. The corner of Remus’ mouth twitches. I glare at him, “not funny!” I hiss. Then I remember he’s my teacher and I shouldn’t talk to him that way.

“Are you certain you don’t want to see madame Pomfrey?”

“Yes I am.”

“Ok, well, take your cloak, you can lean on me. You think you can walk that way.” I realise that might not be a good idea either but I nod.

Afterward I don’t know how I did it. But I was able to hop down the narrow staircase without breaking my neck and to the Great Hall. All the time clinging to Remus’ arm, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through my body, and the butterflies in my stomach.


The next day there wasn’t talked about anything but Sirius Black. After a nearly sleepless night I got up early to send an owl to notify the office about everything I heard and saw yesterday evening. The short reply I got told me the office was shocked and people were working hard to find out how Black could have gotten into the school in spite of all the security measures. For now they decided to tighten the security and send more Dementors to guard the ground and from now on to patrol through Hogsmeade in the evenings.

My brain is working overtime trying to find answers to the same questions. How did he get inside? Why didn’t the Dementors get to him? How did he escape from Azkaban in the first place? I still don’t have a clue.

The ministry thought that Black possibly had connections inside the castle. They told me to keep my ears and eyes open and see if I could find such person. I however, am alone and can’t do much. Also, I am convinced that there isn’t a soul in this castle that would think of letting Sirius Black in. No way that a student would know him, and all the members of the staff were trusted by Dumbledore. He wouldn’t hire anyone who would bring a mass murderer into a castle full of innocent children.

Days passed and nothing was heard of Black again; he wasn’t seen again in this area. Soon the topic grew old and students no longer whispered about the events of Halloween.

The first week of November brought even worse weather. A blue sky seems something from another world, another life. Grey is the colour of the sky above Hogwarts, grey is the ceiling of the Great Hall. I’m growing bored with the routine of a student’s life and there is not sunshine to brighten my days.

The first Quidditch match was approaching however, and that gave me something to look forward to. Slytherin wouldn’t play because of an injured player. If you ask me they just don’t want to play in these weather conditions. Hufflepuff will take its place against Gryffindor in the first match of the season. Poor Cedric nearly got a heart attack when he heard about it. Gryffindor has a strong team, and Cedric thinks we aren’t ready for them because we only just heard we would play in the first match. He may be right, it won’t be an easy match but I believe we have a good chance. I mean, they weren’t preparing to play against us either now were they?

Something else to cheer me up arrives unexpected with the cold eastern wind several days before the match. A small owl is blown against the window of our dormitory with a loud thud, scaring the living daylights out of Abby who was very nearly asleep. I open the window and it hops into my extended hand. The small piece of paper it’s carrying is addressed to Nymphadora (crossed out) Tonks. Good thing I let the owl in myself. It would have raised a lot of questions. The neat handwriting I recognize from the ‘excellent’ that’s often scribbled under my DADA essays.

After reading two times I stare at the name of the writer. Remus. I was afraid I would never hear from him again. It has been nearly two weeks since I saw him in Hogsmeade on Halloween. I didn’t expect to hear from him anymore, but apparently I’m too impatient and he hadn’t forgotten. I read it again. He asks me to go to dinner with him the weekend after next weekend; the weekend after the weekend of my Quidditch match. ‘If I still feel like going out with him’ that is. Of course I do, I would love to. I assume it won’t be a problem to sneak out again.

After scribbling a quick reply and pushing the poor owl out into the upcoming storm again I throw myself on my bed and close my eyes. In little more than a week I will be having dinner with Remus Lupin. My lips curl in a smile I can’t suppress. Little more than a week…


The day before the Quidditch match the weather is horrible, and it keeps getting worse. I wonder if we will even be able to take off from the ground tomorrow. With this storm we’ll probably get blown out of course and end up in France or Italy. Italy would be nice, it’s probably warm there.

The last training yesterday afternoon was a disaster. No, wait, even disaster is an understatement. Yes, we do have a pretty strong team, but I think we need a miracle to win Saturday’s match. My own broom refuses to stay on the right course in this stormy weather, but not as bad as a second year chaser who is so light and tiny she can’t even keep herself above the field. On top of all this our keeper has started showing symptoms of night blindness, when it becomes too dark, he can’t see the Quaffle. We’re pretty much screwed, it’s a lost cause.

My last lesson every Friday is Defence Against the Dark Arts, for me always something to look forward to. But today as soon as I walk into the classroom I have to suppress the urge to run out of it again. Instead of my favourite professor, it is my least favourite professor who is standing in the front of the classroom. Just before lunch I survived a double hour potions and now I have to sit through another one of Snape’s lessons? What did I do to deserve this?

For a whole hour Snape does nothing else but fire questions at us and scolds at everybody who gets the answer wrong, followed by a speech of what a pathetic excuse of a teacher Remus is.

After yelling at us for several minutes because we weren’t able to tell him all the features which distinguish the werewolf from a real wolf, he says he can’t understand why an idiot like Lupin is allowed to teach.

“Because even if he is an idiot he still is a thousand times better than you, you awful insufferable revolting greasy-haired git.” I mutter under my breath to his back.

Snape turns around a looks at me coldly, “What was that Miss Darcy?”

“Nothing,” I glare back just as coldly.

“I advise you to watch your mouth in the future.”

I’m saved by the bell. This miserable hour of agony is finally over. I hope Remus will be better on Monday. I don’t think I can live through another lesson like this.

The morning of the match the storm seems to have reaches it’s top. It’s impossible even to walk straight when we make our way to the pitch, so strong is the wind. It’s pouring, and within thirty seconds I’m soaked to my bones. Five minutes up in the air and I’m frozen to my broom. It’s so dark I can barely see the other thirteen players and the roaring of the storm is so loud that every attempt of communicating with my team members fails. Even the cheering of the crowd is lost in the howling wind and the rolls of thunder.

I love Quidditch, I really do, but in these circumstances it just isn’t as much fun as it should be. We aren’t playing that bad; it’s just that it doesn’t work out brilliantly. My fellow chasers and I work together pretty good - it’s a good thing we play in yellow, at least I can see who of the players are on my team – but because of incidents like flying in on other players that suddenly appear out of nowhere, we don’t have a chance to score in the first fifteen minutes. After another ten minutes we get a little time-out. Gryffindor is up by 50 points. Cedric tries to figure out a good strategy. I know it’s pointless.

“Cedric, nothing will work in this weather. Just get the damn Snitch. That’s all that matters. Do whatever you can to catch it and put an end to this ridiculous game! Please!” He looks at me, on his handsome face lies a look of desperation.

“You can do this, don’t give up.” I tell him. He nods determined.

“Ok team, let’s do this,” he says and off we go again.

Back in the air I soon lose all track of time again. It doesn’t matter anyway, every second this match continues is one second too much. A flash of lightning enables me to see a Bludger coming right at my face. It was a very close call, would I have seen it a second later I would now be taken to the hospital wing with a broken face. Though that actually seems like a great alternative for this madness.

Edward Ludlow passes me the Quaffle. I catch it with my frozen fingertips and speed to the Gryffindor goal rings. I avoid a Bludger and a Gryffindor chaser, I fly straight to the left goal post, aim, then a different kind of cold freezes me from the inside out and takes away my strength. I throw the Quaffle but it doesn’t even come close to the ring. All happiness and hope disappear from my world, I feel miserable, all alone in the dark. The Dementors have left their posts. Far below me I see their dark shapes gather on the field. I start descending.

A shadow comes falling past me from above. I hear a high pitched scream. On the field a man who I recognise as professor Dumbledore running onto the field waving his wand. The silver light of a Patronus appears, so strong that all the Dementors vanish quickly. With a smack the thing that just fell past me lands in the muddy grass of the Quidditch pitch with a loud smack. The boy in red robes lies still on the field, the rain pouring down on him, his glasses lie broken a few feet away from him.


I hold my breath as I step under the warm shower. My skin feels as if it’s on fire though the water isn’t hot. A thousand burning needles torture my body. Then the water slowly warms my frozen limps, relaxing my tense and soar muscles.

The match ended the moment Harry Potter hit the ground. 50 feet above him Cedric had caught the snitch. We won, but the victory is bittersweet. The Boy Who Lived is still alive, thanks to Dumbledore’s swift action. The headmaster slowed him down and the boy survived a fall that would have been fatal any other way.

The students were shocked, the teachers were shocked, the players were shocked. I was shocked. As much by the near death experience of the thirteen year old boy as by the expression on the face and in the eyes of Albus Dumbledore, usually so kind, now furious.

For half an hour I let the warm water pour down on my head, till it has warmed me up on the out- and inside. My body was no longer made of ice and the horrible cold in my chest had finally vanished.

In the common room I find a shadow of the celebrations that usually follow a Quidditch victory. The usual cheerful party is replaced by a quite gathering. People are sipping butterbeer and talking about what happened. All taken aback by the events no one is in the mood to celebrate. No one really feels like winners. I don’t feel like we have won. Maybe we would have won anyway, Cedric saw the snitch before Harry did, it is very good possible that he would have caught it. But it didn’t feel like we had deserved our victory. It doesn’t matter however, the rules are clear, there won’t be a rematch. Cedric caught the Snitch; Hufflepuff won with 150 to 50, Harry’s near death is irrelevant.


FeedBack please!


^ Remus&Dora, made by the amazing burdge-bug (http://burdge-bug.deviantart.com/)

My Stories
A different kind of Magic
The Crumple-Horned Snorkack (one-shot)

for a good laugh, read my sisters Juliet-series,
Wanted:Romeo being the first part. I'm sure you'll enjoy it

Last edited by NoraLupin; May 6th, 2008 at 1:08 pm.
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Old June 1st, 2008, 5:45 pm
NoraLupin  Female.gif NoraLupin is offline
First Year
Joined: 4815 days
Location: Secret land of Daydreams
Age: 30
Posts: 1
Re: A different kind of Magic

Yes, Finally! I really hope you like it. Be warned, it’s fairly long. Enjoy


Chapter seven: London Romance

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, “No, no, no! Aargh!”

Abby walks in, “Um, Nora? What are you doing?”

Mia walks in, “Jeez, what happened? Did your wardrobe explode?”

Isabel runs in, “Oh my, Nora, are you okay? I heard yelling? Were you attacked or something?”
Standing in front of my wardrobe surrounded by pieces of clothing lying scattered through the whole room I raise an eyebrow at Izzy, “by what? My closet? No I wasn’t attacked! I just have a little bit of a situation going on.”

Six eyes look at me full of expectation.

“I don’t have anything to wear.”

“But you do!” Mia exclaims. “Look at all these clothes. Oh I love this!” She holds up a red summer dress.

“God Mia, that’s so not what she meant! And that’s way too cold for this time of year, silly.” Isabel sighs heavily, “don’t worry dear, we’ll help you.” She puts her hands on my shoulders and pushes me to one of the beds. “Sit down, it’ll be alright. Now tell me, what kind of outfit are you looking for?”

Izzy in her element. I hesitate – What can I tell her? I hadn’t really thought about a good explanation for disappearing this evening, just a few ideas.

“My little brother was born this morning,” I decide to go for that one, of the lame excuses this one is the least lame. Iz, Mia and Abby mouth a few ‘aww’s’ and ‘oh’s’. “So I got permission to go and see him and my mum this evening. And our neighbour, she’s my mum’s best friend, and her son, well… he’s sooo cute.” Iz nearly squeals of enthusiasm. “I just want to look nice, in case he’s around you know.”

“Of course! Of course!” Isabel nods understanding. “We’ll find you the perfect outfit, sweetie, don’t worry.”

“Izzie,” I say gently. She’s pacing in front of my wardrobe, thinking, even talking to herself. The past hour she forced me into all the different clothes I own. I wonder why I was making such a fuss about a stupid outfit before, it’s so not me. After ten minutes of that I had already decided that anything would be good enough for me. I didn’t care anymore, but Izzie…

“There’s got to be something better…” I hear her mumble.

“Izzie,” I say a bit louder. She still doesn’t hear me though.

“Izzie!” I yell, and I kick against my bed hard. Now she looks up.


“Iz, you’re a doll and thanks for all your help, I really appreciate it, but this way we’ll never find something. So I think I’m just going to pick something now.”

“But we haven’t found you anything that’s perfect!” she says

“Plenty that’s perfect enough, I really don’t care about it as much as you do.”

Isabel looks at me completely astonished. Apparently she’s never heard of such an opinion. Her big blue eyes look at me in an uncertain way; it looks like she doesn’t know what to say.

“Iz,” I place an arm over her shoulder, “you’re the best and it’s so sweet of you that you want to find me something perfect, but really… something casual will do. Look, I’ll wear the red top, you liked that right?” she nods, “and my dark jeans. Now, why don’t you go look for Abby, I believe she wanted to discuss her hairstyle with you.” That does the trick; Isabel’s blinding smile is back on her pretty face.

“Yes, you should wear that,” she agrees, “you’ll look lovely. Do you know where Abby went to? I think she should dye her hair. I always thought she would be a beautiful redhead. Dark red that is, not the…”

“Yeah, yeah,” I say, as she chatters away, I gently lead her to the door. “Knowing Abby she’s probably in the library.”

“Thanks,” she walks trough the door. I want to close the door behind her, but she jumps back in. “You know, you should wear those earrings I showed you yesterday, you can borrow them from me! They would look…”

“Izzie, really…”

“I know, sorry, but you should!” she skips out of the door again. Down the hall she turns and yells, “have a nice evening Nora, see you tomorrow!” and then she’s finally gone. I smile, she really is sweet if you get to know her she’s just so… No, no words that can describe Isabel Shepherd. Poor Abby, I shouldn’t have done that, now Izzie will trap her in the library till she agrees to dye her hair.

Five minutes later I’m ready to go. I turn around in front of the mirror and decide I look quite nice. Casual, muggle-like, that’s what I got for an answer when I send a short note asking if we were going anywhere specific so if it mattered what I wore. For myself I added ‘nice’ to that list and I think accomplished looking nice, casual and mugglish.

An hour later I arrive in front of the Leaky Cauldron in London, where we agreed to meet. I’m right on time. Before entering the pub I take a deep breath. I realise that I’m actually nervous, which is ridiculous. I try to shake it and step through the door. I squint around the place for Remus and see him sitting at the end of the bar. He has seen me already and holds his had up.

I quickly make my way towards him. I nearly fall flat on my face when I trip over a bag that someone put behind his chair, luckily I’m able to regain my balance before falling to the floor and I reach the other side of the room almost gracefully.

“Wotcher,” I greet him with a wide smile. I notice he looks much better than he did at the beginning of this week. The dark shadows under his eyes are nearly gone. He smiles at me as he places an empty glass on the bar.

“Hey,” he says as he stands up, “It’s so great to see you again, I was really looking forward to tonight.”

“Me too,” I smile, “how are you?”

“Very good, now that you’re here,” he laughs, “sorry, cheesy, but I couldn’t resist. You look lovely. I would offer you a drink, but I made reservations, so we need to get going.” He pays for his drink and together we leave the pub, we don’t exit it at the side of Diagon Alley but walk into London of the Muggles.

“So, where are we going?” I ask Remus curiously.

“A small Italian restaurant I know nearby. I hope you like pasta; they have the best of London.”

I laugh, “what kind of question is that? Who doesn’t like pasta! Macaroni, Spaghetti, it’s all delicious. Well, as long as I haven’t made it myself.”

He chuckles, “I’m sure it’s not that bad, anyone can put together a decent mac and cheese.”

“Well, I can’t. Cooking is just not my thing. I can put together a perfect potion, but a meal… that’s a completely different story.” He laughs. “You’re laughing at me!” I say, acting offended.

“Yes I am,” he grins. I laugh as well. My nerves calm down, I feel comfortable walking here next to him.

We arrive in front of a small restaurant a few minutes later. ‘Roma’ a signboard above the door says. Well, I hope their cooking skills are better then their naming skills, that’s a very unimaginative name for an Italian restaurant.

Remus opens the door for me, the delicious smell of the Italian kitchen welcomes me inside. Most tables are occupied by people enjoying delicious looking food. A waitress greets us and shows us an empty table in the back.

As we sit down she comes with menus and lights the candle on the table with a funny instrument. She presses a button and a flame emerges from it.

“What was that?” I wonder out loud when she walks away.

“Muggles, remember?” Remus says, “No magic here.”

Of course silly me, I smile to myself. No magic here, yet I’m hoping tonight is going to be magical.

We study our menus and make Smalltalk. After we’ve ordered and we’re waiting for our food Remus starts talking about his job as DADA teacher. I can tell he really likes it, he talks animatedly and his eyes. “Some time ago I let my third years face a boggart” he tells. “I let a boy, Neville Longbottom go first. His greatest fear; Severus Snape. Naturally the boggart turned into Snape. I’ll never forget what happened next. I should have taken pictures, because a moment later, Snape was still there, but now dressed in the clothes of Longbottom’s grandmother. Can you imagine? Snape in a long ugly green dress, with an even uglier hat and handbag?”

I laugh out loud, the idea of Snape dressed like an old woman is bizarre and very, very funny.

“It’s a strange thing, fear,” I decide when I stop laughing. “Most of the time we’re afraid of things we know we don’t have to be afraid of. Like the little spider somewhere in your room, or sounds or shadows in the night. Even when we know nothing will happen, and still we are afraid from time to time.”

“You talk as if you’re not afraid of anything, is that true?”

“No, definitely not. It’s true that I’m not easily scared. But I’m afraid of things like everybody else, I’m only human you know.” I smile, he smiles back.

“So, what shape would your boggart take?”

“Well the funny thing is I never met with a boggart. So I have no idea what shape it would take.”

“But you know what you fear most right? Then you know what shape a boggart would take in front of you.”

I study him for a moment, he looks genuinely interested, shall I tell him? Oh, why not. “I guess, I just can’t think of a way for a boggart to show what I fear most. Or at least, what I believe I fear most. You see, if I were a boggart, I wouldn’t know how to take a shape that resembles loneliness.”

I see the question in his eyes, “yes, I know it sounds strange, but for me the most frightening thing in the world is to be utterly alone, abandoned by everybody. And then I don’t mean I’m afraid to simply be alone, that would be stupid. I find it a relief to be on my own every once in a while, no people around to bother you - but that’s not the kind of ‘alone’ that I meant, because even when you’re alone in that way, you’re not truly alone, because you know that you have the choice to go to others that know you and love you, so you have the possibility not to be alone anymore, if you want to not be alone anymore.”

He looks thoughtful, and a bit confused. “Yeah, I didn’t think that made sense either,” I say, “when I’m rambling like that, it’s best not to listen.”

“No, it actually does make sense I think. If I understand correctly, your greatest fear is a world in which there’s no one in the world to understand you and care for you. So no matter how many people there are around, you would still be alone. Am I right?” I nod and smile, I actually did make sense; that is exactly what I meant.

“I believe that kind of loneliness is very common actually,” he then says after taking a sip from his drink. “I think that in the end, everybody is alone, because no one ever really knows you. And at night when everybody is asleep, and the lights are out, a person is all alone in the world, which only he sees the way he sees it. We seek the company of others and the bustle of the crowds to make it seem that we’re not alone, to make ourselves believe we’re not alone, but in the end, we’re all on our own.”

I observe him quietly, not knowing what to say. He stares absent minded into the little flame of the candle in the middle of the table. The he shakes his head lightly, looks up and grins.

“What am I talking about? Being alone? When I have such great company? That’s ridiculous don’t you think,” he laughs, it sounds a bit artificial. I smile a small smile, there’s more to this man then reaches the eye, and apparently not all of that is happy.

“And, do you think our Quidditch team will make it to the finals of the World Cup next summer?” I guide the conversation to a lighter subject, “wouldn’t it be great to have our team win the title when they’re playing here in England itself?” He laughs and says they will need a miracle and a whole new team for that to happen.

From that moment on the conversation flows easily again. The food is delicious and I’m having a great time. I couldn’t have whished for better company. We discuss many things, I enjoy listening to him. He’s funny and intelligent and his voice is like music to my ears. Yet at times my mind wanders off, and forgets to listen as I lose myself in his warm eyes, or my eyes watch his lips move as he talks. Then I whish away the table separating us and wish that those lips would touch my own.

Time flies when having fun and too soon our desert plates are empty and the moment I have been dreading for a while now has come nearer then I like. Our hands lie on the table, fingers intertwined. The waiter takes our empty plates and glasses away, and Remus asks for the bill. Sadness over comes me, I don’t want this evening to be over already.

The waiter places the bill on the table, and Remus takes it. I draw my hand back, “you’re not seriously thinking of paying that bill all by yourself, are you?” I ask half smiling.

“As a matter of fact, I am,” he grins.

“Oh, no, you’re not.”

“You know what is so ridiculous? I was always told that the guy ought to pay for dinner, but somehow I’ve never met a girl who lets him do that. Tonight however, you don’t have a choice, so yes, I am paying.”

“I still don’t think so,” I cross my arms over my chest, dare him to challenge me.

“Let me explain it to you then, we’re in muggle-Londen, in a restaurant ran by muggles, do you really think you can pay here with Galleons and Knuts?” I shoot him a fake angry glare – he ignores it. “No, you can’t. So unless you always carry around muggle money, then I suggest you let me pay.”

There’s nothing I can say to that, nothing left for me to do but look discontent and sulk while Remus pays. Then I stand up and put on my coat. I start looking for my scarf the moment he bends and picks it up from the floor. He takes a step closer to me and drapes the scarf around my neck. My body goes rigid, frozen on the spot. He’s so close. Our bodies nearly touch. If I had a pair of scissors I would be able to cut the air between us that’s so thick with tension. Then his lips brush over mine, so quickly that it isn’t till after he lets go off my scarf and takes a step back that I realise that he kissed me. Heat rises to my cheeks. He takes my hand and leads me out of the building, into the cold night air.

The icy December air prickles my face and returns to me the ability to think logical. “I’m paying you back, you know,” I say as we start to walk down the pavement.

“I don’t want you to.”

“But I do.”

“You’re annoying,” and he nudges me with his shoulder. I sway away laughing and then fall back against him. “But if it bothers you so much, you can pay next time.” I look straight ahead but I can hear that he’s smiling.

“Who says there will be a next time?” I ask with a semi-serious tone, suppressing a giggle and I stop walking.

“I do,” Remus replies and steps in front of me. He cups my face in his hands and presses his lips firmly against mine. My lips react automatically to his touch and kiss him back passionately. I wrap my arms around his neck to get him closer, to keep myself from falling down.

He pulls back, “See?” He looks into my eyes intensely. “There’s definitely going to be a next time.”

“Definitely,” I respond breathlessly. Unconsciously I bring my hand to my lips which seem to be on fire. “Didn’t you say that there is no magic here?”

“Apparently I was mistaken.” He kisses me again softly.

“So, are you already sick and tired of my company?” He brushes a dark lock of my hair behind my ear.

“No,” I smile – how could I be?

“Good, because I wanted to take you somewhere.”


“That’s a surprise. Do you want to come?”

“Yes.” In my mind I do a foolish happy dance, the evening isn’t over yet. I forget to remember that I’m not such a big fan of surprises.

“Ok. But first I have to pick something up at the Three Broomsticks.” He extends his hand, I take it.

“Lead the way,” I say. And he takes me through the blackness where time and space do not exist.

When the strange feeling from apparating vanishes, we’re standing in the main street of Hogsmeade. It’s drizzling, tiny drops tickle my forehead. And if that isn’t enough change in the weather for the worse, it’s also colder here. But it takes me a moment to realise that it’s an unnatural cold. Misery finds its way to my heart. My wand is in my hand before my brain has come up with the name of the danger. The threat automatically triggers my defence mode. Four tall hooded figures surround me and Remus.

I feel Remus take a step closer to me, protectively putting a hand on my shoulder.

“Expecto Patronum!” I yell. Remus does the same. Two four legged creatures attack the Dementors. Their white light is extremely bright and blinds me nearly completely. I don’t think I every conjured such a strong Patronus. The hand on my shoulder tightens its grip and reminds me what probably made my charm so strong.

Soon the dementors are vanquished, vanished. The big cat and an animal that could be a dog or wolf disappear also.

“How could I forget,” I hear Remus mumble, his voice missing the usual calmness. I look at him he looks shaken. “The Dementors have been patrolling Hogsmeade every night since Sirius Black got into Hogwarts. I wanted to avoid them, but it completely slipped my mind,” he continues. He squares his shoulders as if trying to overcome the feelings the Demontors left him with. “Your fault,” he jokes. “Let’s go inside, before we meet another couple of those things.”

We cross the street and enter the inn. Inside it’s warm. There are few people, even though it’s a weekend night. Rosemerta greets Remus heartily.

“Goodevening Professor Lupin,” she says with a warm smile. “Oh my, you don’t look so well Remus, met up with our dear Dementors did you? Terrible creatures and they’re very bad for business.”

“Yes we did, you’re right, they’re horrible. The ministry shouldn’t let them into villages. How are people supposed to live comfortably if those things are marching around so close their homes?”

Try telling the ministry that, I think to myself, maybe they’ll listen if other people than me tell them that.

“Could you please get me the backpack I left here earlier, Rosmerta?” Remus asks.

“Of course, professor,” she shows him another wide smile and disappears in a backroom behind the bar.

“Somebody likes you,” I whisper in Remus’ ear, having observed Rosmerta’s flirty behaviour from a distance.

“No, that was years ago,” he answers. I laugh.

“Are you okay?” he asks me, studying my face.

“Fine,” I reply with a soft smile that I hope exceeds Rosmerta’s lovely smiles. The horrible feeling the Dementors left behind perished when we walked to the bar just now while he put his arm around me.

“You?” I ask concerned. He still looks a bit paler than usual.

“Give me a moment and I’ll be fine.”

Rosmerta comes back with a backpack that she hands to Remus. He swings it over his shoulder, “Thank you, Rosmerta.” With his hand gently on the small of my back he leads me to the door.

Before we step outside he stops me. “I guess it’s better to explain to you in here what is going to happen now. I’d like to avoid a reunion with those Dementors tonight.”

I nod and wait for him to continue.

“We are going to step outside in a moment and then you’ll take my hand, close your eyes and disapparate with me. When we apparate you will keep your eyes shut until I tell you you can open them. Ok?”

I stare at him, “I’m not sure I like that, Lupin. I’m not such a fan of surprises; I’m a person who likes to be in the know, needs to be in the know. I think you’re going to need to tell me where we are going. Also it’s not advisable to blindfold the terminally clumsy, if I don’t know where I land, where I’m standing I’ll probably fall and break something.”


I glare at him



“Just close your eyes.” He smiles, dazzling me.

I sigh reluctantly, realising that I’ll do what he asks me. “Ok.”

We walk through the door. He takes my hand. I don’t close my eyes. Looking at me he raises an eyebrow. I sigh and close my eyes obligingly.

“And don’t open them till I say so,” Remus tells me.

“You’re bossy,” I open my eyes to look at him, “I’m not sure I like that.” I don’t succeed in keeping a straight face.


“Oh, okay!” I shut my eyes again laughing. He tightens his hold on my hand, then we dissaparate.

As soon as my feet land on solid ground I want to answer to the reflex to open my eyes. As if reading my mind Remus says, “don’t.” He stands behind me and puts his hands on my shoulders, slowly he pushes me forwards. “Let me guide you, we need to move a bit.” His breath is hot next to my ear.

“You know, I have trouble staying on my feet when I can use my eyes. Now you’re asking me to move blind?”

“Don’t worry; I’ll catch you when you fall.” I like the idea of that.

Without stumbling I move a few steps. Then Remus stops me and turns me sideways, “Now, You can open your eyes.”

Slowly I open my eyes and what I see is amazing. London lies beneath me, the view is breathtaking. Thousands of lights shine under the dark night sky. Lights of ships are reflecting in the dark water of the Thames. It’s a cloudless winter night and stars are glowing brightly above the city against the endless darkness of the sky.

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.

“Yes it is. See, surprises can be good from time to time. Let’s sit down. We don’t want you to fall down from up here.” The Thames is flowing more than 100 feet below us, I realise we’re standing on the roof of the covered high-level pedestrian walkway of London’s famous Tower Bridge.

I slowly sit down on the roof, my eyes still taking in the beautiful few. “I’ve never seen London like this.” I tell Remus who sits down next to me.

“I thought so. Most wizards never see muggle London like this. We have Diagon Alley and the Ministry here in London, and for most wizards that’s all they ever see of it. But London is a beautiful city. It’s not Paris or Rome, but it has its own beauty. I like the view from here and I wanted to share that with you.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“You want a drink?” he asks, and takes two bottles of butterbeer out of the backpack he took from the Broomsticks.

“Sure.” He opens them and hands one bottle to me. I lean comfortable against him as I take a sip from the deliciously liquid. “You know, I don’t think people are allowed up here.”

“So?” he smiles mischievously.

“Nothing,” I grin, “Just saying.”

We sit there together in silence for a while sipping our drink, admiring the view, enjoying each others company. A cold gust of wind blows over, makes me shiver.

“Are you cold?” Remus asks. “Maybe it’s time to go,”

“No!” I nearly shout. “No, it’s fine, I’d like to stay for a while, I’m not that cold.”

He moves closer to me and puts an arm around me. I rest my head on his shoulder.

“Now I’m not cold anymore,” I say softly


I tilt my head up so I can look at him. He’s looking straight ahead into the distance. It’s strange, it feels as if I’ve known him for much longer than just a couple of days. But then again, I don’t know him at all. I know a fragment of who Remus Lupin is now, only a tiny bit and I know nothing of who he was. Maybe he was right when he said no one ever really knows you. Do you ever know everything there is to know about a person? Maybe not, but I do want to know more about Remus, I want to get to know him.

“Tell me something,” I demand.

“What do you want me to tell you?” he answers without divert his gaze from the city view.

“Something. Anything.” I reach out to play with a rebellious curly lock of dark blond hair next to his ear.

“Why?” he asks.

“Because,” I roll my eyes. He sees that and the corners of his lips curl up in a boyish smile.

“That’s no reason,” he teases.

“I want to get to know you.”

“You already know many things about me.”

“Not true, we’re practically strangers.”

“We’re not. You know I teach at Hogwats, you know I’m addicted to chocolate, that I like Italian food and city views. I told you I lived and worked in Paris, Florence and Rome in the past. That I play piano and like to read old books. That’s quite a lot.

And I know several things about you as well. Like the fact that you’re nearly an Auror, which is cool. I know that you hate your boss, that you’re without doubt the clumsiest person in the world, that you can’t cook and that you love chocolate nearly as much as I do, if that were possible.”

“Ok, so we’re not complete strangers, but all those things are just little shallow facts. Tell me something else, something I don’t know, something that says more about you than the fact that you like chocolate.”

“I like you,” he says finally looking my way.

“That doesn’t count,” I say when I regain the ability to speak.

“Why not? You didn’t know that right? And since when are there rules for this?”

“Perhaps I did and there are rules ever since I made them up.”

“Okay, whatever,” he says, “let me think.” He turns his body and kisses me deeply.

After a while we sit up straight again. My face if flushed, my body warm. My IQ must have dropped several points because my brain can’t come up with something more intelligent then the ‘wow’ that keep running trough my mind. Wow.

“I think I…” Remus starts talking, hesitates, “no, maybe not, never mind.”

“Just tell me,” I say. He looks away. For a minute he doesn’t speak. Several times his lips start forming a word. I wait patiently. A bit worried.

“When I…” he start talking again, stops. “In my years at Hogwarts, I had the best friends anyone could wish for. We were the Marauders, the four of us, mischief makers. We were a plague to Filch, James Potter, Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black and I. James and Sirius were the worst. We were the kings of pranks and Hogwarts was our kingdom, we knew the castle like no one else did. It was a great time and after those seven years at school passed, I never once though that it would ever change.

“A lot did change though, but our friendship didn’t. The days of mischief were part of the past, but we still were the Marauders, and we were convinced that that would never change. Not even when darker times came. As Voldemo –I’m sorry- You-Know-Who gained more and more power and followers James, Sirius, Peter and I joined Dumbledore’s Order of the Phoenix. Maybe then we should have realised things were taking a turn for the worst.

“Even when Dumbledore told James and Lily Potter to go into hiding with their son because you-know-who was after them, I still didn’t see the terrible fate that hung over our heads, maybe I just didn’t want to.” He stops talking, takes a deep breath. His face isn’t showing any emotion, his voice empty, not betraying what he feels either, when he continues.

“Dumbledore advised my friends to use the Fidelius Charm. You know what that is?” I nod and take his hand, familiar with the fate of the Potters.

“James asked Sirius Black, his oldest and closest friend to be their Secret-keeper. Trusting Sirius completely, he trusted him him with his own live and the lives of his family. Several weeks later I lost all my friends in little more then twenty-four hours.” I hear his voice break and squeeze his hand softly. He pulls his hand back and runs it through his hair. He pushes his emotions away again.

“As an Auror you know what happened, I assume. Black was a traitor, he betrayed James and Lily. You-know-who got them. Then Black blew up Peter and twenty muggles, when the foolish boy tried to revenge his friends.”

I look down at the black water of the river below us. Not daring to say anything, not know what I should say anyway. My heart aches for the pain he must have felt. Losing all your best friends like that.

For a while it is quiet next to me. Then he speaks again, his voice sounds less clinical then before. “Now, more then twelve years later I have a student in my class, a thirteen year old boy, the spitting image of his father, with the piercing eyes of his mother, the only human being in the world who lost more than I did that night so many years ago. Harry Potter. He’s a great kid,” I look up and see a shadow of a smile on Remus’ face.

“We talk sometimes. I don’t tell him who I was to his parents. Maybe I should, but I never talk about it really… Black is supposed to be after him, after all these years they say he’s coming for his former best friends son to finish what he started so long ago. Could it be true? I suppose so… but sometimes I still cannot grasp the fact that Sirius is capable of something like that… He is of course; he’s proved that… who would have thought that.”

He stares at the sky. I take his hand again and press my lips against his fingers. He looks at me and smiles sadly.

“I talked to Harry last week, you know what he told me? He told me that when the Dementors get near him, before he passes out, he can hear his mom scream. He hears Lily scream when she’s about to get murdered.” He looks away again.

Minutes pass, then he stands up. He pulls me on my feet. “I’m sorry, now I completely ruined the end of the evening. I should have picked another thing to tell you.” He laughs, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“It’s okay. It means a lot to me that you told me that,” I smile warmly. “You didn’t ruin anything. It has been an amazing evening.”

“Yes, I agree, I’m sorry that it has to come to an end.”

“Yeah, I would love to stick around a little longer but I’m afraid I would fall asleep,” I look at my watch. “It’s one o’clock already,” I exclaim surprised.

“Well I guess this is goodbye then.”

“Yeah, um…” I’ve never been good at saying goodbye.

“I had a great time,” he has his genuine warm smile back. “I hope to see you again soon.”

“Me too,” I take a step closer to him and hop onto my toes. Softly I place my lips on his. “Goodnight Remus,” I say as I step back a moment later.

“Goodnight Nymphadora,” he lets go of my hand. I take another step back, and after looking at him one more time I turn on the spot and dissaparate.


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Old June 4th, 2008, 8:38 pm
NoraLupin  Female.gif NoraLupin is offline
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Re: A different kind of Magic

I know! It’s surreal isn’t it? Me posting a new chapter already? I just posted this weekend!
Funny thing is that I though it would take me ages to write this new chapter. I didn’t have a clue what should happen in it. I started writing however, and the chapter like – wrote itself I hope that doesn’t means it’s rubbish
I hope you like it. Enjoy

Chapter eight: Moonlight Melody

It’s lunchtime, the Great Hall is filled with students, eating, chatting. I already finished eating. Mia is trying to find out who Abby likes. Because for some reason Mia thinks Abby likes someone. As far as I know she doesn’t like anyone but she can’t convince Mia that’s true. I don’t feel like joining their so a pointless conversation so I get my battered copy of Romeo&Juliet from my bag.

I must be the only witch in this castle who reads novels written by muggles. My grandmother, who was a muggle herself, used to bring me books of muggle authors. She said that even though I was a witch I ought to know the classics. Most of the books she bought me I now know by heart and I love them. Maybe there’s no magic in these books, but in a brilliant love story there’s enough magic of another kind.

Ok, I can’t say Romeo&Juliet is my favourite book. But it’s nice to read a few scenes every once in a while. The ancient English holds a charm.

The noises of the Great Hall disappear tot the background as soon as I start reading. Far away I hear Mia and Aby giggle every once in a while.

I can’t help but stop reading when I hear Mia use my name.

“Oh be careful there professor. You might not want to disturb Nora now. Isabel took her book away yesterday to get her attention and she may be very happy that she’s still alive. Nora almost bit her head off, no one is allowed to bother her when she reads, what’s it called… Romeo and Julia or something,” Mia says and she starts laughing.

Not looking up I smile at the memory of Izzy’s shocked face when I snapped at her when she closed my book while I was reading. If I hadn’t been so annoyed at the time I would have though it to be very funny. Then I suddenly realise Mia was addressing a professor. Who…

“See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
Oh, that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek!”
A voice then says behind me, startling me. The hand on which my chin was resting suddenly slips away as my elbow slides from the side of the table. My face almost lands in the butter.

I quickly sit up and turn around with burning cheeks coming face to face with professor Lupin. For a moment I am lost for words.

“Impressive,” I say, as I recover the control over my vocal cords again. “I thought I was the only one in the wizarding world who had ever heard of Shakespeare, let alone able to quote it.

“My mother liked to quote great stories, it’s harder to forget than remember something you heard repeated so often,” he says.

A brief silence falls.

“So…Was there any particular reason why you came here professor?”

“Yes actually, I would like a word,” he replies. “Could you come with me for a moment please?”

I grab my bag and follow him out of the Great Hall. We walk towards the nearest empty classroom. He holds the door open for me, walks in after me and shuts it.

“When did you want to talk to me about professor?” I ask. I see him hesitate for a moment. Then he looks into my eyes and starts talking.

“I always thought, that eyes were unique,” he starts and looks at me to watch my reaction. I know I’m supposed to say something now, but I have trouble thinking of something. Suddenly I have to fight the urge to run out of this room very fast.

“I suppose so…” is all I can say. He knows, flashes through my mind.

“And if eyes aren’t, then I’m sure patronussus are.” Alarm bells start ringing in my head. I look at the door, it’s only feet away, I could be out of here within two seconds, but that probably wouldn’t help much… Turning my eyes away from the door I look at Remus again. He seems a bit disappointed with my lack of reaction. His expression tells me it’s my turn to say something.

“I believe they are professor, but you would know more about that than me.”

“Then how come, that I know a woman, with your eyes and your patronus, but with a different face?”

“Sorry? I have no idea. I don’t think that’s possible, you must be mistaken.” I reply innocently.

“You should have told me, I would have liked to hear it from you.”


“That you are a Metamorphmagus”

“I really have no idea what you’re talking about professor.”

“Drop the act already! Just be honest with me! I know you’re not Eleonora Darcy, how could you expect me to not know that?” his voice becomes agitated.

I keep looking down as I tell him yet again that I don’t have a clue what he’s talking about. I know I can’t look him in the eyes and sound convincing at the same time.

“I really hoped you would trust me enough to tell me your secret,” he sounds so disappointed I want nothing more than to tell him who I really am.

“I need to go to my next class.” I say and turn around. When I put my hand on the door handle I hear his footsteps behind me.


“Don’t ca…” It’s a reflex, an automatic reaction. I say it, before I know it. I stop in the middle of the sentence but it’s too late.

“Why not, I think it’s a beautiful name.” He is very close now, inches away from me, I can feel the warmth radiating from his body. Just the idea of him standing so close to me makes my knees weaken. I feel like I’m glued to the floor, for once in my life not even able to stumble and fall.

He bends closer to me, his face next to my right ear. His hot breath in my neck sends a shiver down my spine.

“Just tell me I’m right. It’s so obvious to me, I still recognise you. The shoes, the patronus, the sound of your laugh, your eyes. There can’t be anyone else on this planet with the exact same eyes as you.” I feel my resistance crumble. He puts a hands on my shoulder, makes me turn around. A part of me is still trying to get back control over my body, trying to get me to walk away, so I keep looking down. But with a finger under my chin he makes me look at him, forces me to meet his gaze.

“So Nymphadora, I already know. You just proved me right. So please, morph back to your normal self for me, please?”

He knows, flashes through my mind, even if I don’t give in he knows, and oh, I want to give in so much. There’s no point to keep pretending anymore, a little voice in my brain murmurs, no point. Just show your face. You know you want to
Behind my back my hand is still lying on the door handle. Something forces me to move it down, behind me the door opens and I walk away.


I walked away. Charms started 15 minutes ago. I still haven’t caught a word of what Professor Flitwick is saying.

I walked away. I wonder how I did that, because honestly, I don’t have a clue. I was this close to morphing my face, this close to show him he was right. It’s one big mystery to me. One minute I was spellbound, the other just walking calmly away? That doesn’t even sound like me.

I must admit that the unknown stronger part of me, that I didn’t know existed, did a good thing. I need to think about this. I can’t just tell someone about this undercover thing. Why do you think they call it under cover? People are not supposed to know your true identity. I can’t just give up my cover because of some guy that makes me swoon.

But it’s Remus. He seems like someone who can keep a secret. He wouldn’t go and tell people about it if I asked him not to, right? To make sure he doesn’t it may be best to tell him. And look at all the advantages of that idea! I could see him so much more often! Not that once a month that I can get out of this place. I would be able to life like the adult I am for a part of the time, with an actual other adult human being to talk to.

Those ideas make me want to run out of the classroom straight to Remus to explain everything. But then again; if I tell one person, the risk is much higher for it to get out. That would ruin this job completely. I would be as dead as fish floating upside down in its bowl if Scrimgeour found out about me blowing my cover. I can’t screw up this job; I need to do this right to officially become an Auror.

No I’m not going to tell anyone. I’m not going to tell Remus, I’m going to ignore him just like I did earlier today. Hopefully he’ll just forget about it, and that’ll be it. That’s just the way it’s going to be.

I lay my head on top of my desk, a bit harder than necessary, now my head hurt a bit and a loud bump echoes through the classroom. I wish that wasn’t the way it had to be.

“Are you okay Miss, Darcy?” Flitwick squeaks in front of the classroom.

“I’m fine,” I reply, not lifting my head from the desktop.

Am I really?


The day passes. I lie in bed tossing and turning till very late and finally fall asleep from exhaustion.

Tell him. Don’t tell him. Tell him. Don’t tell him. The moment I wake up the question invades my mind again. It’s driving me crazy. I already decided that I wasn’t going to tell him, so why on earth is my brain working over hours lingering on the question?

I throw away the covers and stand up. The lack of sleep nearly makes my knees buckle. I wish I could lie down again but I have class the first period. Mia and Abigail are both still fast asleep, apparently they have another timetable. Isabel is singing in the shower. She’s a morning person. I’m not. My dead used to joke about that. He’s a morning person as well.

I sigh and look at the mirror. Double checking that no one is around to see it first, I remove the traces the lack of sleep left on my face. Better.

Isabel walks out of the bathroom. She lets me know I’m late and reminds me we have DADA the first two hours. I groan.

“Are you okay, Nora?” Izzy asks.

“Fine,” I tell her, “see you downstairs.” I lock myself into the bathroom and lean back against the door with my eyes shut.

This is just great.

Half an hour later I arrive in the Great Hall. Five minutes before class starts. Izzy meets me at the door.

“You’re very late, here I made you a sandwich, you can eat it on our way to class.” She drags me with her back into the hall and up the stairs, before I can open my mouth to protest.

“I hate today,” I mumble with my mouth full with sandwich.

“What was that?” Izzy asks.

I swallow, “I said I hate today.”

“Well that’s not very optimistic, it hasn’t even started.”

“Don’t care, still hate it.”

“Why?” Izzy slows down.

“Because it was still dark when I woke up, because I haven’t slept enough, because I didn’t get to have breakfast and because we have DADA. Plus, you put jam on my sandwich.”

“That’s wrong?”

“I don’t like jam.”

“You’re cranky, Nora”

“Did I mention I haven’t slept?”

She’s quite for a moment. But since she’s Izzy, not for long.

“What kind of person doesn’t like jam?”

I don’t answer that.

“By the way, I thought you liked DADA.”

I don’t answer that either. Just one more staircase till we’ve reached the classroom. I hope he doesn’t start on the metamorphmagus issue today, I’m really not in the mood for that. I’m not in the mood for anything. I just want to go back to bed.

A headache starts throbbing in my forehead. I close my eyes for a moment.

Not such a great idea as I was climbing the stairs. Izzy cries out before I even notice I’m falling. Familiar with falling, I wait for my body to hit the floor. It doesn’t however.

Something, or rather, someone has put himself between me and the hard floor under the stairs. Hands on my back, my head against his chest, I’m paralyzed for a second. Than I jump back on my feet.

Of course it’s him, I can sense that. Why does it have to be him? Did I offend any gods lately? Do I really deserve this? I turn around. Brown eyes, handsome face, amazing smile. Yep, that would be Remus.

“I’m sorry, I’m just…”

“Terminally clumsy?” he says still smiling, quoting me.

“Something like that,” I nod, than I turn around and make my way back to Izzy, who is watching with big worried eyes.

“God, Nora! You scared me! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I say, again.

“… and so, this spell reveals any human being present in a close distance. Which gives you the chance, if necessary, to prepare yourself for facing an enemy.

That would be all for today. I know you’re all already familiar with the spell Hominum Revilio, but I want you to practise it again, brush up your skills. And don’t forget the essay on the Defence against Feindfire, I want those next Monday.”

I get up and put my book back in my bad. I spent the hour making playing with my feather and looking at my desk. I can now officially tell you that there is nothing in the world less interesting then a tabletop.

I want to walk out of the classroom with Izzy when he stops me saying, “A word please Miss Darcy.”

Izzy looks at me, I gesture her that she can go. Then I turn around, getting myself ready for telling a few more lies.

“What do you want from me?” I ask annoyed.

“I want you to be honest with me,” he says calmly. Suddenly I wonder why he’s so very sure of himself. Why does he think he’s right?

“About what?” I demand shortly.

“About who you are, I wish you would just tell me, I believe we reached the point where we decided we could trust each other about a week ago.”

That hurt, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re Nymphadora Tonks, I know that, and I want you to admit it,” he insists.

Now I’m getting annoyed. Isn’t it clear yet that I’m not going to tell him that?

“What do you want me to say?” I say angrily. “You want to hear you’re right? Because you’re not. And I’m not going to tell you that you are just because that’s what you want to hear. So just leave me alone!” I regret that as soon as I stop talking. I don’t dare to look at his face. I spin around and walk out of the door quickly. I feel guilty, I feel sick. I hate lying, I hate having to lie to him.


Hours later I still feel sick to my stomach because of my own behaviour. I can’t believe I actually yelled at him. Only because I was telling lies and he wouldn’t believe them. Nearly a week ago we were sitting on the Tower Bridge and he opened up to me. And now I’m lying to his face.

I’m lying on my back, staring to the ceiling above my bed. It’s around eleven o’clock. Isabel and Abby are already asleep. Mia is still doing homework in the common room with a boy from our Charms class.

I can’t sleep. I’m exhausted but I can’t sleep and it makes me angry, that doesn’t help either. I decide that it’s a lost cause. I won’t be able to sleep anytime soon. I need to empty my head before that’s ever going to happen.

I sit up and swing my legs over the edge of my bed. Slowly I stand up and tiptoe to trunk to get my invisibility cloak. I’m going for a walk. Maybe wondering the corridors will calm my mind, or maybe it will exhaust me enough to fall asleep quickly later. If that doesn’t work I’m going to steal something form Snape’s potions collection that will put me to sleep for twenty-four hours.

I sneak out of the common room and start walking through the corridors, up stairs, down stairs. I’m not going anywhere, just wandering.

Hogwarts is very different at night. Around the staircases torches are lit, but the long corridors are either lit by light that’s falling through the high windows from outside or completely dark. I like it this way. It’s calming in a way. Elisabeth would say I was crazy, she would probably think it’s creepy. I walk through a long corridor; I think on the sixth floor, I can’t say for sure. It’s bathing in pale moonlight that gives the walls a silver layer.

My bare feet are cold on the floor. I should have put on some shoes. I’m partly glad I haven’t however, I walk almost without making a sound this way, and I’d hate to disturb the quite. It’s so peaceful, I’m starting to think this midnight stroll was a good idea.

I get to the corner at the end of this corridor. Around the corner it’s dark no moonlight falls through the windows here. It’s not so quite either. I hear soft clear tones coming from a distance, a slow melody that becomes louder as I make my way through the corridor. The piano’s sounds sad, almost heartbreaking. I reach the door behind which someone is playing the instrument.

Slowly the melody advances, I imagine long fingers moving gracefully over the black and white keys. Remus said he played, I remember.

The door opens toward the inside of the room, it’s slightly ajar. I hesitate for a moment, then gently push it further open. Just wide enough for me to slip inside. As I do, the pianist stops playing abruptly.

Frozen to the floor I stand next to the door. I don’t even move my head to see who was playing. Seconds go by, then the music starts again. Another melody, faster than the last one. Now I look around. The room is one of the classrooms which are never used; a grand piano is standing at the other side of it. The pianist is hidden behind it. On my toes I approach it.

The moment the pianist becomes visible my toe hits something small, a pebble or marble. Something like that. It rolls over the floor making all the noise I had been trying to avoid. At the first sound the piano falls quiet again.

“Hello?” now I see who sits behind the instrument, but I already knew for I just recognised his voice. Startled I stop moving again. I try to decide what to do.

“Reveal yourself,” Remus demands. I still don’t move a muscle.

“Oh great,” he says, “now you’re not only pretending to be someone else, but you’re pretending not to be here at all.” I think he sounds a little upset but it’s covered by mockery.

At that I decide I’m done. Slowly I let down my cloak, the silver material pooling around my feet. Then I close my eyes, focus, and become myself again. All this I do of course without thinking for the tiniest moment whether this is a good idea or not, it probably isn’t the wisest.

For a while he studies me, than he puts his hands back on the piano keys and slowly starts to play again, ignoring me.

I suppose he’s angry with me, I would be if I would be in his place. “I’m sorry I lied to you.” I say softly. “I had to, you know, I’m undercover, I’m not supposed to go telling people who I am.”

“You should have told me,” he says without looking at me, continuing to play.

I walk towards him. The wooden bench behind the piano is big enough to hold two people. I sit down next to him. The music quickens, it becomes more chaotic. The sweet melody from before is gone.

“I’m telling you now,” I try, “though I still shouldn’t.”

“Leave me alone, please.”

“Remus, I’m sorry.”

Now he stops playing and rests his hands on his legs, finally he looks at me, storm in his calm eyes. “You’re sorry? Oh, and I assume that everything is alright then, because you’re sorry. Well, I’m sorry to. You yelled at me and told me to leave you alone. Now I’m asking you, leave. Me. Alone.”

“No.” I divert my eyes and place my right hand on the piano. Slowly I play a scale I learned when I was little. C. “I didn’t want to lie to you,”-D-“it just seemed the best thing to do”-E-“I can’t afford to ruin this job”-F-“No one can know who I am”-G- “But now I told you”-A-“You know why?”-B-“Because it may not be the best thing, but it seems to me the right thing”-C. “I don’t think you’ll tell anyone.

I take my hand away from the keys and place it on top of his hand. “Please, don’t be angry with me, Remus. I said I was sorry, that’s all I can do. And I really am, sorry. And please, don’t tell anyone.” I look at him with pleading eyes.

He nods, “I understand. I won’t.” He takes a deep breath, “I’m not angry with you. I was just… disappointed. I which you would have trusted me with you secret,” he smiles softly. “You did that now. Better late than never I suppose.”

I smile, feeling relieved, feeling so much better than half an hour ago. Remus starts playing again. For a minute I listen. In my humble and unprofessional opinion he plays very well.

“How did you know for sure?” I wonder out loud, after sitting there for a while. “I mean, the eyes, the patronus. You could have been wrong. But I assume that you had more to prove you right or you took one hell of a risk. Imagine I had been an actual student, man would you be in trouble now.”

“Yeah that would have caused some problems,” he grins, “which why I would never have done it had I had any reason at all to doubt. But I double checked. You know, ever since I first met you, as yourself, I saw something in Nora Darcy’s face that reminded me of you, and in her manner. But after last weeks evening, it was all so obvious. After I got back at Hogwarts that night, I suddenly realised where I had seen your patronus before.”

“I couldn’t just walk up to a student and assert that she was the woman I had been making out with some days ago. That idea kind of freaked me out at first, I must say,” he admits. I laugh. “The idea that you Eleonora Darcy might be your real identity… well that would’ve been horrible.”

“So how did you make sure that wasn’t the case?”

“First I looked up Nymphadora Tonks in the school register. There I found you, and the information that you are a Metamorphmagus. Also I found a very long list of complaints from Filch.” He laughs out loud.

“After finding that I sent an owl to the ministry trying to contact you. They seriously sent me a letter in return stating that you couldn’t be contacted till July. That was enough for me.” He starts playing another melody.

I lay my head on his shoulder. “I know this one,” I tell him.

“I think there are very few people who wouldn’t know this one. Fur Elise is very well-known. Almost everyone who can play piano knows how to play it.”

Fur Elise, yes, I remember, when I was little, my friend, Elisabeth, used to tell me that someone wrote that for her.”

My eyes are starting to fall shut. I suppress a jaw. “I think I’m going back to my bed, now.” I mumble, “I think I’ll finally be able to fall asleep.” With difficulty I rise from the bench. Then I bend over and place a quick kiss on Remus’ lips. “Goodnight,” I whisper.

He smiles softly, “goodnight, Nymphadora.”

I pick my cloak up from the floor, wink at him, and make myself invisible.

Half asleep I find my way back to my dormitory. There I slip into my bed quietly and I’m sleeping before my head hits my pillow.


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Old June 23rd, 2008, 12:55 pm
NoraLupin  Female.gif NoraLupin is offline
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Re: A different kind of Magic

ugh, they shut the site down for over 24 hours and we don't even get some nice new Fonts? boohoo, there were no pretty Fonds to give my characters pretty handwriting
ah well, hopefully that isn't the most important thing in the world . I hope you like the new chapter I'm a bit worried it might be a bit incoherent, with the short bits in it... Hope you all like it anyway



Chapter nine: Better this way

Several days have passed since our conversation in the room with the piano. I haven’t seen Remus since. Well, I have of course, since he is my professor still, but apart from that, I haven’t. With lessons, homework and the Quidditch practises that Cedric now holds every afternoon, I don’t have a moment for myself.

Nothing seems to have changed after we talked. He treats me as any other student. Only perhaps or eyes meet more often during lessons and the ‘you really should stop looking at your professor like that’ he put under the essay that he returned to me yesterday probably isn’t something he writes to all his students.

The last days of November are drawing nearer. My house team will play against Ravenclaw coming Saturday. I can tell Digory is getting nervous. Ravenclaw is strong and unless their seeker will also be scared of her broom by Dementors it is going to be a very difficult match to win. Unfortunately, the training sessions don’t make me feel very optimistic.

It wouldn’t be fair to say that all my fellow players play awful. They’re actually quite good, but for as far as I can remember the team I belonged to several years ago was much better. These Hufflepuff’s are too nice. I believe that’s the problem. The will to win is missing. They all play for fun. Well, except for Digory, he plays to win.

After the last training, Friday afternoon I sink down on lowest row of seats of the stands surrounding the Quidditch pitch. Looking over the field I cup my head in my hands and let out a dramatic sigh. We’re screwed.

After a while it starts getting darker, my team mates have left the field quite some time ago. I stare into the twilight at something a million years away.

“Hey there beautiful, why the angry face?” I blink and refocus on the present. Someone sits down next to me. I know who.

“We don’t stand a chance tomorrow,” I tell Remus without looking at him, my voice still strained with frustration. “Ravenclaw is going to flatten us tomorrow.” I kick against my broomstick lying on the ground in front of me. I wish I had a faster broom. “If only that idiot boy hadn’t fought with the stupid plant in Herbology we would have had a good keeper. But no, the moron gets stung by a vegetable and isn’t able to play tomorrow.” The broom gets kicked again.

“Hey, easy there, your broom can’t help it, and you’re going to need it tomorrow so I would keep it in one piece if I were you. And so what if you lose? Yes, it’s a pity, but it isn’t the end of the world! It’s just a game, remember?”

“No!” now I look at him, “it’s not just a game! This is important to me, I want to win this. You can’t call this just a game!”

He laughs at me, “Okay, sorry I said that. God, you Quidditch players are all just the same, aren’t you? James always told me the exact same thing. But still, you can afford to lose one battle, that doesn’t mean you lost the war! Hufflepuff has beaten Gryffindor already. So if you beat Slytherin, Hufflepuff still has a chance to win the cup. Besides, Hufflepuff has got something Ravenclaw doesn’t have.” I raise my eyebrow.

“What would that be?” I ask.

“Hufflepuff’s got you,” he says with a warm smile. “I watched, you really are good. Maybe even good enough to drag your team to victory.”

“Whatever,” I tell him, rolling my eyes. That was sweet to say, but we’re still going to lose. Merlin, I hate that. I wonder if there’s a way to sabotage the outcome of tomorrows match.

“Is there someone we can blackmail into letting Hufflepuff win?” I ask, only half joking.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think that’s possible. Anything I can do to cheer you up?”

“I can think of something,” I say quickly and smile. Then I close my eyes and morph my face back to normal.

“You know,” Remus says, “that is extremely peculiar.”

“So I’ve been told.” I move my face to his. He retreats.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, what if anyone sees us?”

“No one will. They’re all enjoying diner in the Great Hall right now.”

I don’t give him the chance to speak again and place my lips over his. Electric sparks run through my body the moment our lips touch. A moment later his lips aren’t there anymore.

I look at him, slightly confused. There’s something in his eyes and I can’t make out what it means. Seconds pass away; I wonder what’s going on.

Then he kisses me, kisses me as if there’s no tomorrow. A passionate kiss, filled with desire and in a way it’s desperate.

His lips leave mine begging for more. He stands up while I try to catch my breath.

“I’m not yet completely cheered up. Can I have another one of those?”

“You seem pretty cheerful to me,” he replies half smiling. “It’s dark, and cold, we should go inside. If we’re in luck we haven’t missed dinner completely.”

“I’m not cold,” I try, “nor am I very hungry.” I stand up and take his hand, “not for food anyway,” I smile wickedly.

He slowly pulls his hand away. “Come,” he says, and takes a step back. “Don’t forget your broom, or to change your face back.”

Slightly disappointed I pick my broom up and change my face back. In silence we make our way back to the school. Something tells me something isn’t in order, but I don’t know what it is. In the Entrance Hall our ways split. Without saying goodbye he walks to the door from were the teachers often enter the Great Hall. I watch him walk away, then make my way to the kitchens. Not wanting to walk into the Great Hall with my muddy robe and broom I decided to just get some food from there to eat in the common room.


“Hey, you! where have you been!”

“Yeah, we missed you at dinner.”

Isabel’s and Mia’s voices disturb the piece and quite of the dormitory. I was lying on my back with my eyes closed. Now I open them and sit up. “I had a headache, didn’t feel like going for dinner, I wasn’t hungry anyway.”

“Oh what a pity, you missed a lot! Izzie here shared something very interesting with us,” Mia squeals.

“Mia! You said you wouldn’t tell a soul!”

“Jeez, Iz, it’s Nora! Sure I can tell her, Abby knows too.”

“What do I know?” Abbigail walks into the dormitory. She looks at Isabel for a second, whose face is now a bright shade of pink. “Oh that,” she says, “yes, I know that.” She grins. “You are really messed up, Izzie, you know that?”

“I’m not! It’s just an innocent little crush! There isn’t anything wrong with that!”

“Oh yes honey, in this case there is,” Mia states, laughing at Isabel.

Now I’m curious. I look at Izzie, “what ‘case’ are they talking about, Iz?” I ask her. She looks away, blushing feverishly.

Then Mia bursts, “Izzie’s got a crush on Lupin!” she nearly shouts, then starts laughing so hard she falls on her knees.

My mouth falls open.

“Thanks Mia, why don’t you shout it again, I think there are still some people in China that didn’t quite hear you.” I hear Isabel say angrily. Quickly I close my mouth again.

“But Iz, weren’t you deeply in love with Oliver Wood just a week ago?” I ask.

“No, well, yes, but… He’s so immature; all he can think about is Quidditch, it’s impossible to have a decent conversation with someone whose vocabulary exists only out of Quidditch terms.” She sits down on the end of my bed.

“So you just switched from Oliver to a professor, because you were looking for someone more mature?” Abby says incredulous. “Couldn’t you just have picked another student? Just one that isn’t Oliver?”

“Yeah Iz, you’re mental, he’s so old, and all,” Mia joins Abby.

“He’s not that old!” Izzie yells before I do, “and he’s so handsome! Have you seen those eyes? Nora, you have DADA! Don’t you think he’s the handsomest man in the country?”

“I never really paid attention to that Iz, him being a professor!” I lie. “But I suppose he does look alright.”

“That’s the understatement of the year!” Iz says offended. “He’s gorgeous.”

“But still a teacher,” Abby notes, “nothing good shall come of it, you know that right?”

“Oh Abs, don’t worry!” Mia laughs, “it’s Izzie we’re talking about, in just another week she’ll probably be in love with someone else. Percy Weasley perhaps?”

The idea of that makes me laugh as well. That’s when Izzie rises from my bed looking very upset. “Well thank you, Mia,” she sneers as she grabs her nightgown. Then she walks into the bathroom and angrily slams the door shut.

“I think you went a step too far, Mia,” I sigh. Silly Izzie, I hope Mia’s right, for her sake.

“I was only joking, she knows that. I mean, come on, it’s ridiculous, falling for a teacher. Even for Isabel. You must agree with me!” Mia defends herself.

“I know, but we shouldn’t make fun of her,” Abby says, “she can’t help it, hopefully you were right and it’ll blow over within a week. Though I don’t think it’s likely that Percy becomes the next object of her affection. Even Iz is not that mad.” We all laugh.

“Yes, yes, of course you guys are right. Now I need to finish my homework for Muggle Studies. See you guys later.” Mia leaves and Abby follows quickly to join her in the common room.

I drop myself on my bed again. I have made my homework already and the Quidditch practise has exhausted me so I decide to make it an early night.

The moment I close my eyes, my mind wanders off to think of Remus. I remember the feeling of that kiss of an hour ago. I wonder where this is going, is it just fun? Just a fling? Or is it becoming more? Is it love? I am not even sure if love really exists. It always seems something that only exists in novels. But there sure is something between Remus and me that is different from anything I have ever experienced before.

But what was going on tonight? Why did he seem so uncertain? And so distracted in the end? Why did he hesitate to kiss me back? I roll on my side and curl up like a cat.

Maybe he doesn’t like me that much.

Izzie’s got a crush on her professor. I’m dating that professor. I kissed that professor. The professor kissed his student.

Okay, so maybe I’m not really a student, but I’m one for this year. Is there really a difference? Is it wise what we’re doing here? Can I just keep morphing back and forth between me and Nora? What if someone sees? My cover will be ruined. His problems will probably be worse.

Maybe we shouldn’t go through with this. Not on the school grounds. Maybe we can see each other in weekends from time to time, maybe this can turn into something real after this school year. Not now. There’s too much at stake.

But I don’t want it to end


The next morning the ceiling of the Great Hall is grey, resembling the sky outside. It doesn’t rain, nor storm. It’s cold en grey, but clear. The weather is not going to affect our match, but I doubt that will raise our chances on winning.

After five minutes the score is 10-0, ten minutes later it’s 30-0. The third year keeper that replaces the one that fought with the veggie can’t control his nerves and doesn’t stop any of Ravenclaws attempts to score. Ravenclaw’s keeper on the other hand has saved all of ours so far.

Cedric is hovering several 30 feet up in the air squinting for the Snitch. I hope he can catch it quickly. Greg Kensington sends a Blutcher at one of Ravenclaw chasers and the girl drops the Quaffle.

Fredrick Ryan catches it and throws it at Annabeth Elliot. She can’t catch it but with her fingertips she sends it my way. By hanging up side down under my broom I’m able to catch it. With the Quaffle under my arm I speed off toward the Rings of Ravenclaw. I evade 2 Bludgers and throw the Quaffle toward the right ring. The keeper misses, 30-10, finally.

15 minutes pass, 50-10. The Snitch is still nowhere to be seen. Rick is in possession of the Quaffle again. He whacks it my way. I start making my way to the other side of the field but I’m blocked by a Ravenclaw chaser. I throw it back at Rick. Rick drops it when he dodges a Bludger, but luckily Ann catches it and she takes off to the rings. I follow her.

I see she’s not going to make it. A Ravenclaw is flying right at her, collision course. I yell her name. She throws. I catch. Almost there.

One of Ravenclaw Chasers comes flying next to me; he tries to kick my broom off course. From the corner of my eye I see a canary yellow arm swing a bat. I hear air rushing past the Bludger, the team mate send at the Ravenclaw.

A hard blow against my head, then nothing.


My skull is throbbing. It hurts a lot. I blink, the white light hurts. Keep your eyes shut, I decide. Footsteps over frozen grass. Several people around me, the sound of voice increases the pain in my head.

“Don’t move her,” rustling of robes. “Where is Poppy?” Remus.

“She never watches the matches, finds them brutal,” Sprout.

“Nora, Nora can you hear me?”

I open my mouth, a painful process, “Remus, I think I broke my head,” even I can barely hear my own words.

“I think you might be right. That’s a heavy concussion at least. Minerva, we need to get her to the infirmary.”

I hear McGonagall, conjure the stretcher, then a spell places me on it. Everything goes black again.


“Ridiculous game… dangerous… always half dead students in my beds afterwards… play a game on the ground… idiots…” Mumbling that seems to come from a thousand miles away. I open my eyes. A numb pain in my head, but it’s nothing compared to the pain there was earlier.

I try to sit up. “No, no, don’t sit up, lay down girl,” Madame Pomfrey gently pushes me back into the pillow. “You got yourself a hairline fracture in your skull, nothing to worry about, I already fixed it. But you’re going to have to stay here tonight. That Bludger nearly knocked you from this world into the next.”

“Did we lose?” I wonder out loud.

“Young lady, you nearly got killed and all you can think about is the outcome of that stupid game?”

I don’t feel like going over the ‘it’s not just a game’-thing again. I just look at her.

“Yes,” she says, “Cedric Digory was just here, he said you lost with 190-10. The whole team came to see you actually, but you need your rest. No visitors till tomorrow.” Then she walks away, leaving me angry and disappointed. Had I just paid more attention to that Bludger, maybe we wouldn’t have lost. In frustration I close my eyes and after several minutes I fall asleep.

I wake up again when it’s already dark. The door of the hospital wing opens with a soft sound. A tall figure slips through the opening and closes door again. Then he walks up to my bed.

“I’m not supposed to get visitors till tomorrow, didn’t you know?” I smile

“Doesn’t that rule only apply for students?” Remus takes my hand. “Sure Madame Pomfrey won’t mind if a concerned professor comes to see his injured student?”

“Then why the sneaking around?”

“Ever heard of a professor coming to see his injured student in the middle of the night?”

I suppress a laugh.

“So, how are you feeling?”

“Fine, I only broke my head.”

“Yes, that was the first thing you told me after you fell. That, and you called me Remus.”

“Oops,” that’s not a good thing. “No one heard that I hope?”

“No, you weren’t talking very clearly.”


Silence falls, in which I study his face. Traces of concern are still visible on his face. I squeeze his hand.

“I’m fine, don’t worry. The only thing that’s badly wounded is my ego, Ravenclaw flattened us. Just like I predicted.”

He half smiles. “I’m glad you’re okay, I should go again, before Poppy hears us.” He let’s go of my hand and takes a step away from the bed.

“Okay, bye then,” I say slightly waving my hand at him.

“Bye,” he smiles, then turns around and leaves through the door, again careful not to make a sound.


Madame Pomfrey wouldn’t let me leave in the morning, but at least I was allowed some company. Abby, Izzie and Mia came in after breakfast.

Mia exclaimed that she was glad I didn’t die yesterday. Izzie still looked a bit pale. Abby told me Isabel had been in tears when they took my unconscious body to the hospital wing. It was the first time that I realised that these girls had become true friends over the past months. Abby handed me two letters that had came for me and after an hour they left to do some homework.

When she checks my head and vital signs, after my friends have left, Madame Pomfrey says she will keep me here till later in the afternoon, if she is sure I am in excellent health again by then. I’m stuck in here for another few hours. Ridiculous as I’m fine. Madame Pomfrey should have more confidence in her ability to heal, I was already well enough to leave yesterday evening.

When she leaves me alone I reach out for the letters Abby put on the end of my bed. They’re addressed to Eleonora Darcy, but I can see traces of erased writing under that name. I wonder how old the letters are if they were redirected to me by the ministry.

The first letter holds the familiar handwriting of my dad. It’s dated about a month ago.

Dear Dora,

Will you please give us a sign that you’re still alive? You’re mother is going crazy and no matter how often I tell her that you’re busy with the exchange programme, she won’t stop fussing about it. You know how she can be. So please, for me, let her know you’re fine.
We’re leaving for France tomorrow; Mungo’s finally gave me those three free weeks. If you need us you know where to find us. We’re back before Christmas, hopefully you find the time to visit us then? Elisabeth let us know she’ll be in England with the holidays, so I suppose you’ll make time to see her.
Your mother sends her love, please send it back, she’s driving me crazy.
We hope to see you at Christmas.


At the bottom of the page my mom has scribbled something. For anyone else, the narrow script would be illegible, but I mastered her handwriting years ago.

Dear Nymphadora,

Your dad it exaggerating awfully, as he always does, I’m not making a fuss about anything, I just wish to hear something from you I’m sure you’re fine, but after seventeen years of taking care of you, I think I deserve a letter once every two weeks. And why would your dad say I have no reason to be worried? Your decomposing body could be lying in an abandoned building for all I know.
Write to me.

All the love in the world,
Your mother

I laugh at the way my parents act toward each other, even on paper. Always teasing the other, but it’s always clear how much they still love each other. I hope I’ll be as lucky as they are sometime in the future.

They’re right, I realise, I haven’t written to anyone for the past months. I’ll do that right now, or no, first the other letter.

As soon as I open it I know it’s from Lizzy, and she’s not going to spare me, I’ve neglected her as well, which she probably won’t ignore. I know her that well.

Nymphadora Marianne Eva Tonks,

Oh, oh…

Where the hell are you? Have you lost your head? Because that would be the only good excuse for not writing to me for over three months! You’d better be dead or something because when I get my hands on you! I was planning on visiting you this Christmas, but I don’t think you deserve my company.
Okay honey, you know me well enough to know that I only half meant what I said above. But I really want to hear something from you. Hasn’t it occurred to you that I’m all alone in a big strange city at the other side of the Atlantic, waiting for a letter from my best friend day in day out?
Seriously, I know you’re not the kind of person that writes frequently, but three months? You get yourself parchment and ink right now and write me!
I’ll see you at Christmas (whether you like it or not)

Lots of love,

p.s. Nathaniel says hi, and you get hugs and kisses from Maddy.

Yep, that’s Liz. I knew that was coming. Now I feel guilty. Not that she really is all sad and alone in a strange city. She has lived in Chicago for nearly two years and I know for a fact that she’s happy there.

It’s great to hear that she’s coming to England for the holidays. I haven’t seen her for ages. Suddenly it hits me that I don’t have a clue if I’m supposed to stay at Hogwarts through the holidays. I hope not. I simple refuse to stay! If there’s anyone in the world that deserves some time off, it’s me! I have been working 24/7 for months now. Nope, I’m not staying here, I’ll go home for Christmas, whether Scrimgeour gives me permission or not.

The clock hanging on the white wall opposite to me says it’s noon. I hope Pomfrey let’s me leave soon. On a table in a corner of the room I see parchment, a bottle of ink, and a quill. Deciding now is the best time to write to Liz and my parents, I summon them.

I tear the parchment in two and open the bottle of ink. Tree black drops land on the white sheets. I ignore them.

Sorry I didn’t write. I’ve been busy. I didn’t forget you or anything; I just didn’t have the time to write you, that and I don’t have anything interesting to tell you. Please don’t stay mad at me (I know you can’t anyway)
It’s so great that you come to England at Christmas. I can’t wait to see you, it’s been too long.
Hope you’re all well.


p.s. don’t ever use my whole name again if you want to survive your visit.

I read what I have written. I’ve never been a great writer, that won’t ever change. Liz is the one that writes long letters. I hope she can forgive me for this very short one. At least it’s something.

Next one is for my parents. I told them I was going to Germany for some kind of exchange programme our Auror offices had organised. Kingsley told me to keep my job a secret, even for relatives. This to make sure it stays a secret for the rest of the world. Besides, had I told my mom I was going undercover to catch Sirius Black I would have given her a heart attack, or something.

Mom, Dad,
I’m fine, like you said. I’m having a great time here and am learning a lot. Dad, tell mom she should stop assuming the worst every time she doesn’t hear from me for a month. Mom, tell dad he shouldn’t whine about your fussing, cuz we both know he doesn’t really mind.
Will see you around Christmas.

With love,

That’ll do. I’ll mail them later today. Liz’s letter will go to the post office in London, which takes care of letters to America. Owls can fly for a long time, but it was decided long ago that it was inhuman to let them fly all the way over the Atlantic Ocean, where there was no where for them to take a break. Ever since trans-Atlantic mail is transported by people.

Madame Pomfrey walks in as I close the bottle of ink and fold my letters. Seeing the drops op ink on my pillow and sheets she frowns. I ignore that. Her problem, she shouldn’t have kept me here today.

“Can I go now?”

“Your head isn’t hurting anymore? Not even the slightest bit?” she asks.

I shake my head.

“Well, I’d rather keep you here for another night, you can never be too careful with head injuries.” I try to stare her down, “But I suppose I can’t keep you here against your will,” she gives in reluctantly.

I couldn’t agree more and jump from the bed. The sheets move with me and the bottle of ink glide from the bed, breaking to pieces on the clean floor. Black fluid splatters around.

“Oops,” heat rises to my cheeks. I look at Pomfrey who clearly isn’t happy with me. I take my want from the nightstand, fix the bottle and clean up the ink. Then I quickly gather my things and flight from the hospital wing, leaving Pomfrey with her previously white sheets.

Walking through the corridors my mind is occupied with something I haven’t thought about since the night before the match: How to handle this thing that’s going on between Remus and me.

I called him Remus, while two other teachers were standing nearby. That proves how risky this all is. The more I think about it the more I’m convinced that I should put an end to it. But then again, maybe it really is worth the risk.

Just a corner from the entrance to the common room something hits softly the back of my head.

I turn at the spot and see a little piece of paper, folded into a paper plane, whirl toward the floor, landing at my feet. The nose of the paper plane is crumpled, obviously from flying against my head.

I pick it up from the floor and read my true initials on one of the ‘wings’; NT.
For me? I fold it open. Yes, for me.

Will you come to see me this evening?
There’s something we need to talk about
You know where I live, right?

It isn’t signed. But I know who it’s from. Who else would send me this? A good idea not to sign it, everybody could have read it. Not to bright, is he? Sending a flying object through the school in the middle of the day? I’m surprised the message found me before it was caught by someone else.


By the time I get away from the girls and homework in the evening, it’s already nearly too late to go out. I realise I’ll need my invisibility cloak to get back, as it will be after curfew. Quickly I fetch it from under my bed – I know not the safest place to keep it, but I simply forgot to hide it after I threw it off last time.

Outside the common room I laugh; a professor, who asks his student to walk around in the school after curfew, never had that before. On my way to Remus’ quarters I pass Snape. I’m invisible, so he can’t kick me back to the common room. Happy days. Remind me to send a thank you not and flowers to the guy who invented invisibility cloaks.

Several long corridors, three secret passage ways and 10 minutes later I knock at the door of the office that has Remus’ name on it. His voice tells me to come in.

Remus is standing in front of his desk in the small room. He looks at a point about a foot to my left. Oh, right, the cloak. I throw it of and look around the room. It’s a very impersonal office, no decorations on the walls, in a corner stands a big glass box with a one legged creature I recognise as a Hinkypunk.

“For my third years,” Remus says as he sees me looking at it, “We’re already done with it, I still have to send it back. It’s a Hinkypunk.”

“Yes I recognised it,” I smile at him. He mouth smiles back, his eyes don’t. The fire in the office is out. It’s cold. I wrap my arms around myself.

Remus walks to the bare wall behind the desk and moves his fingertips over it as if he’s drawing something on it. I follow the movement with my eyes and realise it works as a password when a door appears.

Remus opens it, “Let’s go in here, it’s warmer.”

I walk to the door that Remus hold open for me, curious to see to where it leads. When I step inside I step into a large handsome room. So, this is where the professors of Hogwarts live. As Remus walks in behind me, I look around the room. Against the wall on my left stands a big wooden bookcase, long shelves filled with books. There’s a couch and a table. Large leaded windows let in the light of the stars. An antic wardrobe next to a door which supposedly leads to the bathroom. To my right stands what is probably the most impressive piece of furniture, a double four-poster bed, elegant vine branches are beautifully engraved in the posts. A fire crackles cheerfully in the fireplace, radiating warmth into the room.

“Nice,” I say as I walk over the dark oak floor to the middle of the room, “you know, I never once though about how the teachers live at Hogwarts when they stay here during the semesters.” I turn my attention to the books occupying the shelves of the bookcase.

“Neither did I before I became one of them,” Remus says. “Turns out they have it pretty good.” I trail a fingertip over the spines of the books. Most are old; letters are faded so not all titles are readable. I can make out famous books of muggle authors, some of my own favourites, a series of thrillers, detectives, written by an ex-Auror. Besides novels there are many books about the Dark creatures and defensive magic, also a few on magical healing.

An old notebook lies lonely and forgotten on the top shelve, I reach out for it, but then Remus addresses me and I remember that I’m not here to find something to read. “Come, sit down, we need to talk.”

I turn my attention away from the bookcase and walk to the couch. “Sorry, books tend to distract me,” I apologise. I sit down. Remus doesn’t, he paces though the room, then stops in front of a window and looks absently outside. I wait for him to say something.

“I have been thinking,” he starts, hesitant, “We…” he stops.

“Just tell me.”

“We can’t go on with this,” he says, “we can’t do this. I’m sorry. Even though you’re not a real student, I’m still your professor. We’re putting too much at stake with this. What if anyone would find out? We both jeopardize our jobs. I can’t let that happen. It was fun, but now it’s got to end, before anything goes wrong, before…” He takes a deep breath and finally turns from the window to look at me, “I’m sorry.” His face is expressionless, unreadable, which tells me he’s just hiding whatever he feels.

“It’s okay,” I tell him, my voice is calm, maybe calmer that I really am right now. “I was thinking the same thing. It’s better this way,”- though it does not make me feel better.

“I’m glad you agree with me,” he doesn’t look at me.

I decide that it’s time to leave, “I’m going to get some sleep now. I’ll see you tomorrow in class, Professor.” I walk towards the door. With my hand on the handle I wait a moment. Something bothers me, something that I need to know before I can go.

I turn around to look at him, “It’s not…” I meet his eyes, now they do give away some of his emotions, the sadness in them is nearly overwhelming.

“What is it not?” he asks softly.

“It’s not the metamorphmagus thing, right? The shape shifting? That’s not why you wanted to end this, right?”

He looks surprised, “Of course not! Why would you think so?”

“Some people have a problem with it. Some believe that because my face changes, I can’t be trusted. And sometimes it just freaks people out…”

“No, it has nothing to do with you being a metamorphmagus, it has nothing to do with who you are at all. It’s just better this way.”

I nodd, I’m glad that’s not it. It happens more often then you’d think. And that hurts from time to time. Not everybody wants to understand that the shape shifting does not define who I am from the inside. “Okay, well, goodnight,” I say, and walk out of the door, heading for the Hufflepuff common room.

I believe I softly hear him reply, softly speaking my name. That name I dislike so much, but even that name doesn’t sound so bad coming from him, simply because it’s him addressing me.


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^ Remus&Dora, made by the amazing burdge-bug (http://burdge-bug.deviantart.com/)

My Stories
A different kind of Magic
The Crumple-Horned Snorkack (one-shot)

for a good laugh, read my sisters Juliet-series,
Wanted:Romeo being the first part. I'm sure you'll enjoy it

Last edited by NoraLupin; June 23rd, 2008 at 12:58 pm.
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Old June 27th, 2008, 7:06 pm
NoraLupin  Female.gif NoraLupin is offline
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Re: A different kind of Magic

Chapter ten: A time for chocolate

It’s annoying, I can’t shake the slight depression that came over me that morning after Remus and I split. The brightness seems to be gone from my days, it’s as if some kind of fog is covering my brain, keeping everything that is cheerful away. I laugh, talk excitedly, play games, have fun, but there’s always that part that doesn’t rejoice in it as much as it should. Like I said, it’s annoying

Would I say I have no idea what’s causing this depression, I would be lying. Even I can’t deny it has everything to do with Remus Lupin. I can however do nothing but accept that it’s over. It was the wisest thing to do. Had he not put an end to it that night, I probably would have done it myself the next day. So why should I be so affected by this?

I’ve never been a girl to dwell on these things for long, but this time it simply won’t go away. I can ignore it, yes. Push it away, but it always returns at the end of the day. I can tell my friends I’m fine, over and over again, and I can even start believing that myself, but when I’m alone again, I realise that I’m not that fine.

Life continues at Hogwarts the same way it has the past hundred years. The end of the semester gets nearer as the weather gets colder, I burry myself in the work that teachers want us to finish before the holidays. Even though there’s no reason for me to do it well, I try anyway, because it takes my mind of things. And maybe it will come of some use when I have to take my final exams to become a qualified Auror. I will have to start studying for that soon. I’ll have to take those two weeks after my work on the school is done in June.

DADA is no longer my favourite subject, when the sight of the professor makes you feel empty inside; that simply isn’t possible. During the lessons I avoid looking at him at all times. No longer do I answer sixty per cent of all the questions, and since I only answer reluctantly he has stopped asking me questions.

From time to time I have to tell Isabel to stop staring at her professor. Her crush hasn’t gone away within a week, as Mia predicted, it’s still going on, and it’s starting to annoy me.

At the few times that I do look at Remus for a moment I notice that he doesn’t look well. His smiles have become rare; the sparkle in his eyes has vanished. As Christmas approaches he starts looking worse. He looks ill and dark shadows under his eyes suggest that he isn’t getting any sleep.

I try not to worry, there’s nothing I can do to make it better anyway. We haven’t really spoken since that night our ways parted. However, I do still like him, and I do still dream of him, and I do worry. I wish I could just give him a hug, hold him close and make him feel better. Make me feel better.

The last school day before the holidays the whole school is in merry mood. Everywhere around students are exited about the holidays that are so close. Hogwarts looks festive, the Great Hall filled with big trees glittering with silver decoration; it’s all exactly like I remember. Hogwarts on its best, the week before the end of term.

I’ve been looking forward to the coming week a lot. I forced Scrimgeour into giving me a week off, and will be going home for Christmas. Finally some free time. This undercover job seems more and more useless every day. Nothing happens. There’s nothing to do for me here, and if there’s something I hate, it’s sitting around doing nothing and feeling useless. When I asked next week off, I also asked if I had to continue at Hogwarts afterwards. Of course Scrimgeour insisted I’d stay on my post.

Our last lesson, on this last day, is Defence Against the Dark Arts. Izzy and I were nearly too late because she suddenly ran into a bathroom to check her appearance. She spent nearly ten minutes in front of the mirror till I dragged her away from it. A part of me feels sorry for her; the other part just wants to knock some sense into her.

When we get to the classroom it turns out we aren’t that late as professor Lupin hasn’t arrived yet. We join the other students waiting in front of the closed door.

Just when Isabel opens her mouth to say something – probably to ask me, yet again, if I think she should wear her hair up or down – the object of her desire shows up.

“Ladies, can you please step aside,” Lupin asks us. We happen to be standing right in front of the door. I pull a heavily blushing Isabel away from the door so he can open it.

While he opens the door I look at him for a moment. He doesn’t just look tired anymore; he looks exhausted, thinner, fragile. He looks ready to break into pieces. The shadows under his eyes are darker than I’ve seen them yet, or maybe that’s because his face is paler.

When he pushes the door open he looks sideways, for a moment our eyes meet. The familiar flutter in my stomach proves that my crush is as insistent as Izzy’s, it won’t go away.

The class follows professor Lupin inside. To our surprise the room has been cleared of all tables. Those are now placed along the walls. Everybody turns to Lupin, wondering what the meaning of this is.

He waits a moment for silence. “Good afternoon everybody,” he says with a weak smile, “I know it’s the last day before the long awaited holidays begin, so there probably isn’t a single one of you who feels like learning any more in this last hour of the day. Good news for you is then, that I don’t feel like teaching so I decided to do something different. Something I believe most of you will enjoy.” He pauses for a moment, student exchanged curious glances.

“As you can all see I made some room for what we’re about to do the next two hours. We are going to brush up our duelling skills. Pairs of two, winners against winners. The ultimate winner wins a bar of chocolate and the honour of being the best. How does that sound?”

I look around to watch the reactions of my classmates. Some faces were a nervous expression; others smile or grab their wands, determined to win this.

“We will duel by some of the official rules, so you bow at your opponent before you begin. Besides that, I have some other rules I want you all to follow to ensure that no one gets hurt today. We’re going to use only relatively harmless spells. Tickle, disarm, stun, but nothing that has a lasting effect and actually hurts someone. I you do, you will be in serious trouble.

“Those of you who still think it will be good fun to harm a classmate I can only remind of the fact that half of the Azkaban staff is standing outside the castle.”

I notice a Slytherin in the back with a disappointed face.

“Ok, you can make the first pairs yourself. The duel is decided as soon as one of the dualists is unable to fire spells at his or her opponent.”

As soon as Lupin stops talking a loud noise fills the room as student try desperately to get the right partner, in this case one they think they can defeat easily. I don’t care who’s my first opponent and watch the others argue over the worst students. At the other side of the room Lupin is doing the same. I can’t help but look at him. I wish he would smile at me again. I miss that breathtaking smile, the one that makes him look so much younger and makes his eyes light up like stars. I miss that smile, I miss my smile.

After two minutes Lupin gives the others an ultimatum; pick a partner right now or I’ll do it for you. That works: half a minute later everybody’s found a partner. I find myself opposite the Slytherin boy that looked so disappointed earlier. No idea what his name is, some people are just not worth the trouble of remembering their name. For me, this was one of them.

Everybody takes their positions. I take a moment to chuckle at the ridiculous way a couple of them are standing. Then Lupin gives us a sign to begin. I nod at my opponent, he does the same, but reluctantly. As soon as his head is up again, I disarm him, my spell wasn’t that strong and I fired it non-verbally but his wand comes flying my way in a neat bow. I catch it and hand it back to him. He sends me a deathly glare, I smile widely at him and sit down on a table waiting for everyone else to finish. If the other three are equally easy I will win within a minute. That would be great; I could really use some chocolate.

I look at Isabel who aimed a full body binding curse at Percy Weasley, who, I can tell from the frown on her pretty face, was doing a better job than she wanted and expected him to. Percy ducks down in time and the spell hits the wall behind him. Iz wants to try again but before she can finish Percy jumps back on his feet and yells, “stupefy!” The red light hits my friend in the chest and she falls to the floor. I walk to her and bring her round. She compliments Percy on his quick spellwork and sits down on the table with a disappointed and irritated expression.

Lupin walks along the side of the room, keeping a close watch on the last two duels. He passes me and without looking at me he speak to me softly. “Be nice, Nora, give them at least a chance.”

Soon the last duel is decided and the winners are paired with each other for the next round. I win from a friendly Ravenclaw, who accepts her defeat smiling. The following duel I beat another Slytherin. These two times however, with Lupin’s voice in my head, I give them a chance to win, and don’t give myself completely. But even my less good, is still pretty good, so I do win. Both of them get some fairly good chances from me to win, but they’re not successful, and I disarm the both of them after dancing around for a few minutes. After this, I find myself in the final duel, and to my surprise I’m up against Percy Weasley. The serious boy with horn glasses apparently has a hidden talent. After all a true brother of Charlie?

I send him a soft smile and we wait to begin. His expression stays serious. Lupin tells us to begin. Percy bows low, gentleman like, as if he’s escaped from one of Austen’s novels. I nod and wait for him to make the first move.

Tarantallegra!” he calls.

I block his spell with ease and yell “Rictussempra!” The tickling charm hits him just right, but unfortunately it has no effect. To my great regret Percy turns out to be immune for tickling. Dang. He smiles, probably convinced that he’s going to win.

Patrificus totalis!” he yells.

I throw myself to the floor sideways in order to avoid the spell. I slide into the wall to my left, hurting my shoulder. Never mind. From the floor I sent a disarming curse at him which he avoids and gives me the chance to climb back on my feet.

Obscuro,” Percy then says, and everything goes black.

The class gasps. Suddenly unsteady on my feet I try to shake the disorientation as soon as possible and remain calm. I have practised duelling blindfolded before. I can do this.

“Expe…” I hear Percy start to my right but I don’t let him finish and cast a powerful protective shield in that way. I hear footsteps go around me and know he’s moving, hoping to use my disability to see him as his advantage.

Unfortunately he seems to have a thing for long spells and overly pronouncing them. As soon as he stats saying ‘patrificus totalis’ I know his position and yell, “Stupefy!”

A thud tells me I aimed right. Around me the other students cheer. Footsteps approach me and hands are wrapped around my wrists. High squeals in my ear identify the hands as Izzy’s.

Iz drags me with her to god knows where. I can only try not to lose my footing. I’m grateful for the fact that there’s no furniture around over which I can fall and break my neck. Apparently there’s no one around who thinks of the brilliant idea to free me from the blindfolding curse that still covers my eyes.

The moment I want to ask Isabel to remove it something hooks around my leg while I’m walking. I feel myself trip and fall through darkness for a moment. My head hits something hard and I can see stars for my eyes. Something fluid runs along the side of my face.

Suddenly I get my sight back. Someone finally removed the curse. Sitting up slowly, I trail with my hand over my face and when I look at it my suspicion that I am bleeding is confirmed. My fingers are red. A cut above my eyebrow stings painfully.

Izzy kneels down next to me. With wide eyes she looks at the blood, her pretty face turns pale.
“What just happened?” I ask her.

“Marcus Flint, the Slytherin you beat in the first duel,” she stammers, “he tackled you! Just like that. That… that… awful git, horrible, disgusting, evil son of a …”

“Thank you Miss Shepherd, you made your point quite clear I think,” our professor interrupts her, his voice is angry. He kneels down at my other side. The expression on his pale face is apprehensive.

“Let me…” he says softly, and reaches out to my head. I flinch when he touches me. His fingertips warm on my forehead just above the cut. “That’s a nasty cut. Hit your head at that table didn’t you.”

I shrug, trying to distract myself from his touch.

“I’ll fix it right now, if that’s okay with you? Then you won’t have to go to the hospital wing.”
“That’s fine,” I mumble. Yes, please, I don’t think Pomfrey wants me there again.

He takes his wand and places the tip of it close the bleeding cut. I close my eyes involuntarily. He mumbles something and the cut closes. Soon the pain disappears as well.

I open my eyes again. His face is close. Warmth spreads through my body. He puts his wand away in his robes and moves away. Isabel helps my back on my feet.

“That bar of chocolate would be nice now,” I say innocently, turning to my professor. He laughs, a real laugh, with sparkles in his eyes and everything. The butterflies return.

Lupin hands me a chocolate bar. “For the best dueller,” he tells me. Then he dismisses the class, whishing us all a great holiday and a very merry Christmas.

As I walk through the door together with Iz I open the bar of chocolate. Dark chocolate, my favourite, he knew that.

Behind us Lupin calls the Slytherin I now know as Marcus Flint back into the classroom. His voice is loud and angry. That Flint is in trouble. I grin and take a bite of chocolate; the taste of victory is bittersweet.


It's short, I know, sorry about that, hopefully not too short

FeedBack please!


^ Remus&Dora, made by the amazing burdge-bug (http://burdge-bug.deviantart.com/)

My Stories
A different kind of Magic
The Crumple-Horned Snorkack (one-shot)

for a good laugh, read my sisters Juliet-series,
Wanted:Romeo being the first part. I'm sure you'll enjoy it

Last edited by NoraLupin; June 27th, 2008 at 7:28 pm.
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Old August 9th, 2008, 11:09 pm
NoraLupin  Female.gif NoraLupin is offline
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Location: Secret land of Daydreams
Age: 30
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Re: A different kind of Magic

Christmas at Hogwarts. I think that always was my favourite time of the school year; those weeks of cheerful anticipation for the coming holidays, the festive mood everybody was in, the trees and Christmas decorations that filled the school, and with some luck the grounds covered with an ice cold blanket of snow.

Yes, I’m pretty sure those were the best weeks at Hogwarts. Or maybe the summer semesters were better. When you would spent every free minute outside, telling yourself the weather was getting better, when you could jump out of the trees on the beach into the lake, that was still ice-cold, to swim with the giant squid. Or maybe every week at Hogwarts was a good one, was a favourite of mine.

Of course I never stayed at school during the holidays. My parents wanted me at home to celebrate Christmas as a family. So they could tell me they missed me, and mum could say I should eat more and fuss. Therefore this will be my first Christmas at Hogwarts. The first time to stay at the school grounds for the holidays and celebrate in the Great Hall. Or not really – circumstances make it impossible for me to be part of the feast on Christmas day, so you could say I still won’t experience Christmas at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. A pity, yes, but nothing I can do about it.

It’s so strange, Hogwarts without its hundreds of students, without the noise of hundreds of young voices echoing through the corridors. It’s nearly scary how quiet it is now. You can actually walk though the entrance hall, and hear only your own footsteps. It’s more like a church then a school now, you feel the need to keep your voice down where you usually have to nearly yell to overcome all the other noises that surround you.

The students left this morning, except for a few that are staying for the holidays. She too, left this morning. I saw her leave in the crowd of other students. A crowd in which you usually can’t find anyone you're looking for – not that I was looking for her – but surprisingly enough I saw her immediately. No I didn’t, I
heard her immediately, then I saw her. Her cheerful laugh rang loudly through the Entrance Hall. Unconsciously I looked in the direction the sound had come from and there she was; making her way towards the doors with her friends. She and her redhead friend apparently teasing the tall blond one – Isabel, who sits next to her in my class and who I sometimes catch staring at me for reasons I don’t even want to know.

For a moment I followed her with my eyes from where I was standing halfway up the stairs. Suddenly she looked over her shoulder. Her face still laughing, on her lips the widest smile. I wonder if she felt someone was looking at her. I don’t even believe that is possible, but you always read about people feeling peoples eyes on them, gazes burning into backs. And she looked up so suddenly, and so precisely in the right direction, that I’m starting to think that she did actually feel my stare.

She looked up, right at me. Midnight eyes caught mine. Only for a moment, because she had reached the doors and forgot to step over the doorstep. She stumbled, swayed and fell. ‘Terminally clumsy’.

Some time ago I noticed that she walks in a way that somehow just guarantees a stumble. Not that she moves in a strange way or anything, it’s quite lovely actually in its own way, but it just screams instability. The way her arms swing at her side for example, lively and uncontrolled, living a life of their own, waiting for the opportune moment to pull her off balance when she isn’t paying attention.

You know how when you casually sway your hand around you’re pink doesn’t do anything itself but just follows the movement of the hand? Except that sometimes it accidentally sways further out, uncontrolled, off course, and taps that glass off the table. Well, that is how she moves, not just her pink, but all her limbs.

That was probably another reason why I recognised her in Eleonora Darcy, that lively unbalanced walk, unmistakable. But it were her eyes that gave her away. Because in those eyes, I can see something, that shows me her real face, no matter what she looks like at the moment.

That witch has a pair of bewitching eyes. Midnight eyes, they reflected the stars above Hogsmeade that night. Bewitched, spell bound, that must have been it, the reason why I acted in a way so unlike myself. Sirius would have been proud of me. Merlin knows I had no intentions of kissing her when I ran after her to hand her that purse she forgot. But then I did.

It should have stopped there. But it didn’t. Because I enjoy her company so much. Ignore the present tense there.

Look at that; it’s snowing. So it’s going to be a white Christmas, that’s nice. The moon, now nearly full, is shining over the grounds. The world is white and silver now. I wish I could enjoy the sight of silver moonlight on white snow more. But the moon and I are enemies. While some call its light beautiful, I find it cold and cruel.

The Quidditch pitch is barely visible, falling snowflakes are hiding it in the distance. Never my favourite game, Quidditch. I never found the idea of flying in circles while people whack evil balls at your face in bad and worse weather circumstances very appealing. People get hurt too often. Like this year; Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor first and then Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff. During the latter some things became very clear to me. Because she crashed and hit the ground, and the impact that had on me, was more shocking to me than anything else. Because it proved that she meant a hell of a lot more to me than I had been telling myself.

But I already knew that then, didn’t I? And I already knew that I was going to break it off. That I had to distance myself from her. That it had already gone too far. I already knew. Because I burned my lips when I kissed her the night before that match. And right then and there I should have stepped back and I should have told her this wasn’t going to work. But of course I had to do the complete opposite. Idiot.

‘Remus, I think I broke my head.’

Nymphadora Tonks, I think you’ve broken mine. Because I can’t think clearly anymore.

Something in her eyes, as she was lying there in the grass looking up at me, vulnerable and hurt. Something saying she trusted me, depended on me and cared for me. I think that’s what I saw in those endless depths that are her eyes. I think she cared for me. Somehow, in that short time, she had started to care.

Or maybe she hadn’t. Because next was the break up. So easy, composed, professional. No feelings there. A clean cut. That made things easier. It was obviously the right thing to do. She didn’t know what I am, doesn’t. And now I won’t have to disappoint her at some point in the future.

It’s better this way. I shouldn’t spent my time dwelling on things that can’t be. Things will never be different from what they always have been. I should just enjoy the Holidays. Use this weeks that she’s not around to get her out of my head. The new year is coming up, the perfect moment to get over things of the old year.

I’ll get her out of my head.

It’s better this way.

It’s fine.

Except that it’s not.


I hope you noticed it yourself, because elseways I’ve done something very wrong, that this was Remus’ POV, not Tonks’. I know its short, but it’s supposed to be. It’s not a chapter, it’s something in between, an interlude, or something else along those lines. I hope you enjoyed reading it. And I’m sorry that it took so very long to get something up. And I’m sorry it’s so disappointingly short. Sorry

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^ Remus&Dora, made by the amazing burdge-bug (http://burdge-bug.deviantart.com/)

My Stories
A different kind of Magic
The Crumple-Horned Snorkack (one-shot)

for a good laugh, read my sisters Juliet-series,
Wanted:Romeo being the first part. I'm sure you'll enjoy it

Last edited by NoraLupin; August 10th, 2008 at 10:41 am.
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Old October 29th, 2008, 5:32 pm
NoraLupin  Female.gif NoraLupin is offline
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Joined: 4815 days
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Age: 30
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Re: A different kind of Magic

A/N: Hey guys, I know it has been ages since I updates my story, but finally, here it is, Chapter eleven. I hope you guys like it, a) because I always hope so and b) because it will probably be a long time again till I post again.
People always told me the last year of high school/secondary school - or whatever you want to call it - is an extremely busy year. but I’m only finding it out for myself this year.
Yesterday was the first day in months that I found time to sit down and write a none essay kind of something.
I hope you can live with the waiting
So yeah, enjoy

Chapter eleven: Merry Christmas

“Nymphy! Nym! Nyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyymph! Nym-pha-do-ra! Woohoo! Wake up! Nymphadora!”

I pull a pillow over my head and try to come up with the name of the owner of that voice. It’s not Iz, nor Abby nor Mia, who… Lizzy! My eyes shoot open and I sit up.

“Lizzy!” I yell, meeting the velvet brown eyes of my best friend.

She puts her hands over her ears. “And now, I am deaf,” she says.

I throw my arms around her neck. “So good to see you!”

“Yep, completely deaf. Nice to see you too weirdo. Now get out of that bed, I’m only here for thirty six hours and we’ve got some serious shopping to do. You have ten minutes to get to the kitchen, I see you downstairs.” Her tall slender figure disappears through the door. Her dark curls bouncing on her shoulders.

I drop back onto my bed and close my eyes. What time is it? I wasn’t planning on waking up before noon!

“Don’t go back to sleep,” Liz bellows from downstairs just when I’m about to do so. I groan and get up.

I’m back home; Home being the house of my parents. Since I gave up my apartment before I went to live at Hogwarts I moved back into my old room for the holidays. It’s just like every other school year, back home for Christmas. Lizzy over the floor too early in the morning to drag me outdoors to do Merlin knows what when I want to sleep late. Nothing’s different.

I drag myself out of my warm and comfy bed and make my way downstairs. Liz is making breakfast and singing cheerfully. I never understand where she gets the energy so early in the morning. Even with a major jet-lag she’s still making noise at 8 in the morning.

“Your mum is out getting groceries for Christmas Eve,” Liz informs me when I sit down at the kitchen table, a plate filled with scrambled egg lands in front of me. “Your dad was on-call last night, he’ll be home soon.”

I stuff my mouth with egg. Delicious.

“Tissis good,” I mumble while chewing.

“Don’t speak with your mouth full,” Liz says.

A fork with egg stops half way to my mouth. I look at her, she looks at me. The corner of her mouth twitches. I keep looking at her. Then she bursts. So do I. The fork clatters to my plate while we laugh like we’re mad. Liz holds herself up by holding onto the counter. I try very hard not to roll off my chair.

“What was that?” I say hiccupping.

Liz holds a hand over her mouth trying to stop laughing. “Sorry,” giggling, “reflex. I’m a mum, remember.”

“Not my mum,” I point my fork at her, “restrain yourself Madame!” I say with a strict low voice.

“Aye, sir, sorry, sir.”

“So, what are the plans?” I say after I swallow my last bit of egg. “Didn’t you want any yourself?” I ask pointing as my empty plate.

“No, I’m still on American time remember?

“Plan: I need Christmas presents, I need new dress robes, a haircut and a day with my best friend. So, we’re going to Diagon Alley in half an hour. Ok?”

“Oh, good. You’re even asking me if I’m alright with it.”

“Um, no, not really, you don’t have a choice. The question was more for the form. Now, get ready.”

“Aye. But you’re doing these dishes.”

“Naturally,” she nods, “you would only break them into a thousand pieces and chuck them into the bin. I promised your mum I would take good care of her dishes.”

“Nothing I can say to that,” I stand up and walk out of the kitchen. “Back in a sec.”

“Why do I not believe that?” Liz calls after me. I assume that was rhetorical.


“Do you realise you just spent twenty minutes in the shower?”

“Better then spending half an hour in front of a mirror every morning,” I respond, thinking of Isabel.

“You know I don’t do that,” she says offended.

“Not you.”

A ‘pop’ outside, then someone approaching the house over the pebbles. My dad walks into the kitchen moments later.

“Hello Dora. Already awake?” – nice dad – “And Lizzy! Goodmorning! How’s Chicago?”

“Hey dad, busy night?”

“Oh, the usual, some boils, cuts, a married couple glued together and some guy who lost his earlobe trying to chop some branches of a tree in his garden, quite boring actually.”

“They were glued together? How’d they do that?” Liz asks.

“Husband was trying to fix something with a gluing potion, but accidentally got stuck to his wife. Don’t ask me how you do that, but it could have been a last attempt of saving their marriage. He probably thought a bit of glue would bring them back together. Poor guy, she was yelling at him the whole time.” He shakes his head and smiles absentminded. He walks to the counter to get some coffee. “What are you girls up to, so early on a weekend morning?”

“We were just about to go to Diagon Ally, Liz feels like shopping.”

“Okay, well, have a nice day. Remember, don’t go anywhere with strangers, keep an eye on your money and don’t lose each other in the crowd.”

“Nearly twenty one, dad, twenty one,” I say, rolling my eyes.

He winks playfully.

“Come let’s go,” Liz says. We say goodbye to my dad and walk to the living room fire place. After Liz I step into green flames and glide to the Leaky Cauldron.

Arriving there Liz grabs my hand and pulls me out of the hearth. “Nice do,” she laughs. I look into a mirror across the room. My short hair stands out in all directions. Nice.

“You said hairdresser, right?”

Liz nods. I let my hair grow to my shoulders; make it thick, dark and straight. Then we walk out of the back chamber into the bar.

The Cauldron isn’t known for its cosy attire, the pub is always half dark, smoky. Christmas doesn’t change that. Tom never takes the trouble of decorating the walls, or placing a Christmas tree. He once told me that he didn’t feel like cleaning up the mess after the holidays past, so he decided it was better not to put it up to begin with.

It’s ten thirty, way too early for a drink so we walk straight through the bar, exiting into the courtyard. Liz opens the entrance to Diagon Alley and we walk onto the street. Many people are hurrying around. Last minute Christmas shopping sends wizards and witches to Diagon Alley for presents, food, anything. Shopping just before Christmas is dramatic; you have to be truly mental to try it. I know that, Lizzy knows that, and yet here we are, I wonder why.

I don’t really mind though, it’s a merry crowd and though everyone is in a hurry, they are also cheerful. Holiday spirit is all around us. I’m not particularly fond of shopping, but lively Diagon Alley has its charm.

“So, what’s first?” I ask as the first snowflakes fall and get stuck in my hair.

“You can pick, hairdresser, presents or dressrobes. Which one do you prefer?”

I brush the snow out of my hair. A wet cold drop melted snow rolls down my neck. “Ugh,” I shudder.

“Oh, come on, it’s not that horrible,” Liz laughs.

I don’t take the trouble of explaining that was not what I meant. “Let’s go to the hairdresser first. Then we have the whole afternoon to do the shopping, which, knowing you, will take the whole afternoon.

Liz smiles. “Good, hairdresser first. What do you think I should do with my hair? Shorter or longer?”

I look sideways at her, nothing wrong with her hair now. Why the need to go to a hairdresser? But before I can say so Liz starts talking again.

“I like long hair, always had long hair at school – which you know of course. I think Nate would like it longer…” She bites her lip, twisting a dark lock of hair between thumps and vinger. “No, I’m going for shorter, definitely, more practical, efficient. And I think it makes me look smart, do you think it does?”

“Liz you’re rambling again.”

“Oh, right, sorry…”

“But shorter sounds good, and hair grows, in case it don’t like it you won’t be stuck with it for longer then a few months.”

Liz nods along and then drags me into a hairdresser I didn’t know was there. But then I never go to hairdressers, so how should I know where those are on Diagon Alley?

“So what should I do with my hair?” I ask in my turn as we sit down on a comfortable couch in the front of the shop.

“What? Why would you have to see a hairstylist to change your hair?”

“You don’t expect me to just sit here for half an hour waiting for you, do you?”

“So you’re just going to waste some money one a hairchange you don’t need?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Should be interesting, I’ve never been to a hairdresser.”

Liz looks at me as if she’s afraid I’ve finally really lost my mind, then she shrugs it off and takes up one of the many hairstyle magazines lying around.

Turns out this isn’t interesting at all. I told the girl who’s currently attacking my hair with Merlin knows what kind of hair products and spells that she was free to do with my hair whatever she thought would look nice. At that she cheerfully clapped her hands together and squealed she had the greatest idea. That was about half an hour ago.

I think that by now she has put a spell on every single hair on my head. Let me tell you – there are a whole lot. I wonder if my hairdresser actually knows what she’s doing. I wonder if she’s even of age yet. She can’t be older then sixteen… But then she wouldn’t be allowed to put spells into people’s hair, right? I sure hope so.

Finally, after three ages, one world war and three economic crisis have past by, the girl, who, I remember now, introduced herself as Amanda, steps back and makes a ‘voila’ gesture.

“Done,” she says, beaming at me in the mirror.

I take a critical look at my reflection. My hair has slightly more volume, is half an inch shorter and a little wavy.

If I hadn’t known I just spent half and hour sitting in a chair doing nothing – which is something I’m not very good at – I wouldn’t have seen the difference. Or maybe…. Yeah, I think I picked a darker shade earlier. Now it looks kind of reddish.

“Did you colour it?” I wonder

“Yes,” Amanda says and clasps her hands together, which seems to be a habit, “do you like it?”

“It’s uhm…” I notice Liz watching me. Who’s hair is longer, I notice, instead of shorter, like she had decided earlier – shouldn’t have expected otherwise, this is after all Liz we’re talking about.

“Be nice,” she mouths soundlessly.

“Yes,” I smile a smile that’s a little fake around the edges. “I like it very much. Great job.”

Well, that’s one person I made very happy today. Amanda suddenly resembles a kid on Christmas morning – which probably is what she’ll look like tomorrow.


Gifts for Maddy, gifts for Nate, gifts for mothers, fathers, friends. Gifts for everyone we know and love, which seems right now like half the world population.

Lunch, coffee. Clothes shopping. Shop in shop out.

“I think my feet are going to fall off soon,” I mutter as we emerge from yet another shop. Who knew Diagon Alley held so many shops?

“Liz, seriously, we’ve seen every item in every shop on Diagon Alley. Can we go home now?” I whine.

“Aww, is the brave adventurous Auror tired already? I thought you were up for anything and indestructible.”

“Well, shopping isn’t in my job description. So there.”

“But…” she looks at me pleadingly with her big brown Bambi eyes. Oh no, those don’t work on me. I’m immune.

That was a lie, I’m not. Quickly I turn my head and avoid her eyes.

“No, no, no, I’m putting my foot down, and I am not going to take another step.”

“Well you’ll have to if you want to get home,” she responds cheekily.

I roll my eyes at her.

“Ok, ok, fine, whatever, we’re leaving,” she looks at her watch, “the shops are closing soon anyway.”

I sigh exaggerated. “Good, thank you, I thought you’d never give in.”

Now it’s her turn to roll her eyes, as we start making our way back to the Leaky Cauldron.


“Hello girls, how was shopping?” We’re greeted by my mother when we walk into the kitchen.

“Hey Anna, we had a great time. It’s so good to see you!”

“You too Eliza, you look great. Chicago agrees with you then? Care to help me make dinner?”

“Of course, what do you want me to do? Wait, let me just get these bags to the hall,” Liz says and reaches for her want to do so.

“Is there anything I…”

“Yes, be a good girl and sit down at the table, and don’t touch anything. You know, why don’t you sit down on top of your hands, just to be sure.”

“Gee, thanks for your confidence mum, and you wonder why I grew up to be all messed up with crazy hair colours,” I mock her.

“Oh, hush. Don’t be a baby, Nymphadora.”


“Just sit down, I can’t use your help sweetheart. Liz, can you continue stirring this for me?”

“Liz, did your mother ever treat you this way?”

“I’m going to mind my own business, but for the record, I wouldn’t want you near my kitchen either Nym, you’d probably set it on fire you know.”

I sigh dramatically, “you guys are great. Great. You know, I’m just going to sit down, and not talk to you for the rest of the evening.” And I make my way to a chair at the kitchen table. It shifts from under me as I crash down on it, falling to the kitchen floor, taking me with it.

“Don’t destroy the furniture, darling,” mum says with a smile.

“Yes, I’m fine mum, thanks.”

“I thought you weren’t going to talk to us?”

“I’m not.”

“Than why are there coming words out of your mouth.”

“I was…” Dad walks in softly humming a Christmas carol to himself. “… talking to dad!”

“Yet you’re answering my questions.”

“Aargh!” I bang my head against the table in mock frustration. “Ouch,” that was harder than I meant it to be.

“What’s going on in here?” Dad asks with a look of amusement on his face.

“Don’t ask,” Liz sings. “You don’t want to know.”

“Okay.” My dad sits down next to me, and opens the Daily Prophet.

A normal evening for the family Tonks. Dad reading the Prophet, Mum and Liz preparing dinner singing along with the music on the wireless and me, sitting somewhere, trying not to hurt myself or anything else.

“Can you get me the salt please?” My mother asks.

The salt it standing on the far side of the table. I reach for it. I can nearly… my fingertips tap the salt – of the table. Damn. I wait for the glass to shatter on the tiles but it never does. Liz makes an acrobatic movement and catches it just before it can hit the floor. “Gotcha,” she murmurs.

She always does that. In school many things that were within my reach only survived because of her swift moves to catch them.

“That’s why we keep you around, Lizzie.” My dad beams. “Nearly got yourself some bad luck there Dora.” He winks at me.

“Superstitions dad, you sound like a silly muggle. If that were true then I would drown in good luck by now because of all the windows and glass objects I broke over the years.”

“I think that luck is cancelled when you break too much, Nym,” Liz grins.

“Just my luck.” I grin back. “By the by, Liz, my friends call me Tonks these days.”

“Oh really? So what does that make me?” She suppresses a smile, but the corner of her mouth twitches.

“Well, it means you’re going to call me Tonks as well.”

“When hell freezes over and your hair stays one colour for the rest of your life, I will.”

“Why not?”


“That’s no reason!”

“Merlin, what a mature conversation this is, eh, Anna? These girls have really grown up don’t you think?”

I grab the pepper and pretend to toss it at my dad’s head. Accidentally it slips from my grasp and actually goes flying to him. Hitting his forehead.

“Oh Good Godric, Nymphadora!” My mum drops the spoon she was handling and hurries to my dad.

“Oops, sorry dad. It wasn’t supposed to…”

“I’m okay. I’m fine. No worries, Dromeda. Really, you’d think I’d know better by now not to tease Dora when there are objects within a miles distance that are not glued to their spots”

Liz laughs, I grin apologetic.

“Anyway, I never understood what the problem was with Nymphadora,” Liz steers the conversation back to the abandoned topic.

Seriously? Seriously! “Didn’t get what the…” I start perplexed

“Oh Merlin, please!” My mum cuts me off with a hind of annoyance in her voice, “There is nothing wrong with you name. It’s a lovely name. It suits you. And you should stop acting so ridiculous. I can’t imagine how you introduce yourself. ‘Hello, I’m Tonks’? Seriously, what people will think. Tonks! That’s not even a name!”

“There’s nothing wrong with the name ‘Tonks’!” my father tries slightly offended.

“Not. My. Point. Ted.” She says, gesturing feverishly with a spoon. “Nymphadora, you have a beautiful name and you should be proud of it.”

“Can you believe she can say that without even a hind of sarcasm in her voice?”

“Dora, don’t mock your mother.”

“No, I shouldn’t, because actually it’s all your fault! You were the one that should have tackled her when she started writing that name on my birth certificate! You could have stopped her from marking your only child for life.”

“Gotta love the drama. Nym, you should have become an actress,” Liz calls out. My dad tries to hide the smile that’s forcing its way to his face. Mum focuses on her cooking.

For a moment I wonder; Isn’t that exactly what I have become? An actress? An Auror pretending to be someone else. Undercover, playing the part that was appointed to me?

“You always wanted to be an actress when you were little,” my mum says, “remember? How many time you didn’t hurt yourself tripping over the hem of you ridiculous costumes. Or that time when you fell of the dinner table, that you used as your stage?” She smiles to herself at the fond memory. “You would have made a great actress. But somewhere along the road actress changed to Auror. I still don’t understand why.”

“Because I like it mum, I love my job.” For the first time in a few months I realise that that’s true. I love being an Auror. Even when it means spending a year undercover.

“I don’t see how you can. How can you prefer a job where dark wizards hurl curses at you over any other?”

“It’s really not that bad mum,” I try to protest, but she takes no notion of it.

“I would have liked it so much better had you chosen a job with a higher survival rate.”

Surprise I lift my eyes from the table surface. I meet my own dark eyes in her face and suddenly see how worried she really is. “Mum!” I exclaim, slightly shocked. “You’re seriously worrying about that? You shouldn’t really! The only way I get hurt on the job is when I trip over my own feet. Really, nothing is going to happen to me! I’ll be fine.”

“Of course you will be, sweetheart,” mum replies, she smiles wanly.

“Mum, really…” I start

“I know,” she turns around to the stove. “I worry too much.

“Dinner is almost ready. Ted, why don’t you get a bottle of Elfish wine from the cellar?”

Half an hour later we’re all sitting at the dinner table, enjoying the meal my mum has made for our Christmas Eve. The four of us make small talk and laugh, my dad’s bottle of Elfish wine is praised by us all. 1991 apparently was a good year.

Liz talks about her life in Chicago, her family, her work. Things I’ve already heard but that highly interest my mum, who always saw Liz as family. We all do. She used to spend so much time with us that it has been so strange, not having her close anymore. Remind me to kick Nate’s as next time I see him. He took our little Lizzy away from us and to the other side of the ocean.

Mum talks of her friends, her work. She criticizes my hair colour, which I just changed from pink to sky blue, to emerald green, just to tease her. Also she says she misses having us around for dinner, like this. We should do this more often, she decides.

Dad cracks jokes, trashes Rita Skeeter and her latest article. Praises dinner and discusses holiday plans. He doesn’t talk about his work because of mum’s silver rule against discussing the magical trauma’s he treats every day in Magical Emergencies at St.Mungo’s at the dinner table.

I listen, because I don’t have work to discuss, or family, or friends I’ve seen lately. I listen and I laugh, eat and drink. I have the time of my life, because these are the moments in life that I treasure, the one’s I spent with the people I love – oh and of course because of Mum’s cooking, which tastes great.

Dinner is nearly finished when I reach for my half full wineglass.

“So, enough about me,” Liz decides, “your turn, Nymphadora. How’s your life? How’s being an Auror? Done anything interesting these past months? And more importantly, any love interests that I should know about?” she fires a bunch of questions my way.

Questions that I don’t have to answer. The glass of wine slips from my grasp. The dark red liquid flows over the edge and spills over the tablecloth and my robe. “sh**!”


“Sorry - damn it!” Damn damn damn! I love these robes, now they’re ruined! Whose stupid idea was it to put a glass of potential permanent stains near me?

Mum sighs, “Go change and give me those robes, I’ll find a way to get those stains off it.” She waves me to the hall.

I hurry upstairs and into my room. Boxes are piled up against the walls and on the small desk. The bed is unmade, the way I left it this morning when Liz dragged me out of it. Behind the scarlet curtains the full moon glows.

I look around the room, two of these boxes hold my clothes. The question is which two.

Sigh… Think Tonks, think like an Auror.

An idea comes to me and I don’t like it. It’s suicide, but do I have a better idea? Answer’s ‘no’.

Accio robes,” I say, quickly ducking to the floor the moment the words leave my lips.

A pile of boxes crash to the floor as one of the boxes underneath shots out from under them, the other one topples down from the pile next to me, and hits my shoulder.

The two boxes burst open and soft materials spills over the floor.


“Nymphadora? Everything alright up there?” my mother’s voice drifts upstairs.

“Fine,” I yell in the direction of the stairs – better then I expected anyway. None of the truly heavy boxes have landed on top of me.

I stand up and bend over the pile of robes, studying it closely. Then I fish out a midnight blue robe. That’ll do.

Quickly I pull it over my head, straighten it and start to make my way over the other clothes on the floor towards the door. In the doorway a voice stops me.

“That hair colour clashes awfully with the midnight blue, dear.”

Mirror, mirror, I sing in my head with a smile and turn around. In the mirror I see that my hair is another shade of dark blue, that’s just not exactly the same as the robes colour. Ouch.

“Good save,” I say, “thanks.” I close my eyes and turn my hair black and short, standing out in all directions.

“Anytime, dear. This looks much better.” The mirror informs me.

I smile at my reflection and turn around.

“Merry Christmas, dear,” the mirror says as I walk away.

On the landing I hesitate, will Liz still want to know about my work? What am I going to say?

You’ll lie, I tell myself the obvious answer. That sounds a lot easier then it is – but I guess I don’t have a choice.

I trail my fingers of the dark wood of the banister. She also asked after my love life. Well at least I don’t have to lie about that – unfortunately. A vivid picture of Remus Lupin appears in my head. Haven’t thought about him all day…

I shrug it off and walk down the stairs. In the doorway to the kitchen I stop for a moment to look at the scene before me. My loved ones, my family, my Christmas.

For a moment I think of my other friends. Iz, Abby and Mia, who are an important part of my life these days. My life? Confusing business, this whole living two lives at the same time thing.

No Eleonora Darcy ‘round here.

The three people in front of me notice I’m looking at them. They all look up at the same time. Liz’ face lights up like the world at sunrise, a wide smile breaking open on it. In my mothers eyes I see my own and that she loves me, thought she apparently doesn’t completely agree with my hair style right now. On my dad’s face is the half smile he’s smiled at me for as long as I can remember. He winks, I wink back.

My life is the best. Top that, Nora.


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