I have planned this entire story out with flow charts and diagrams and wonderful stick figures! That means it exists somewhere in my mind, so I want to make it to the end. I won't bother you guys with author's notes anymore, but I want to warn you that things may get confusing for a little bit because I won't give you the entire side of each story right away; however, I promise you, I plan to tie things together eventually. And once the story's finished, it will get a nice and good editing, as I like to see the whole picture before tackling that beast.

That said, of course, let me know of anything that catches your eye or trips you up (some of those things may be there for a reason, though!). And most of all: enjoy. Because that's what we're here for, right?

Chapter Five – A Way to Start Halloween

"Dora, wake up." Her father's voice. Soft, but insistent. The pressure on her shoulder.

"Nooooo," she grumbled, turning away from the man crouched next to her bed. "Let me rest."

He chuckled. "There will be time for that later, darling. You don't want to miss it, do you?"

She refused to even look at him. She was so small then. He picked her up – practically hoisted her over his shoulder.

They stepped out into the garden.

There were… lights. Fireworks. Shooting stars. A Patronus or two, maybe? Cheers, it sounded like, from at least the next few villages over.

Her mother stood, arms enveloping herself, embracing herself, smiling to the sky. She looked very. . . happy.

"Brunhilda!" a voice jolted Tonks from her sleep and she sat up quickly.

"Whassit…?! Christ, Meredith, are you trying to give me a heart attack?" she grumbled. Reality had hit her like a ton of bricks in the form of a curvy but pretty blonde Hufflepuff with approximately twenty-seven freckles sprawled across her nose.

She looked like Cynthia, kind of. Tonks idly wondered if her best friend was doing all right, but as the days slipped away (had it really only been a couple of months?) her memories seemed to grow foggier. Cynthia only had eleven freckles, Tonks reminded herself, all mostly on her right cheek.

"You will never guess who I just talked to!" Meredith grinned, bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement.

Tonks cursed her luck that she was the only Hufflepuff who had decided not to attend the Quidditch game (it was downright annoying not being able to play), for that meant she was doomed to hear about this exciting new development.

"Oh, Merlin, not you, too," she moaned before falling back onto her bed. She threw her duvet over her face, and when she spoke, it came out muffled. "He'll talk to pretty much anyone, you know."

"I know," Meredith said, but Tonks could tell she hadn't really thought about that too much. "Hogsmeade trip is soon; rescheduled due to the rain. Will he ask me, you think?"

Tonks didn't know what to say to that, her mind instead assaulted with stories of the most villainous and slimiest and dangerous follower of You-Know-Who… The kind of bastard with no shame, who killed people in broad daylight even after being begged to stop…

"After we messed about in that empty classroom he hasn't been paying me much mind," Meredith said, almost as if speaking to herself. "But he said, 'How're you, love?' to me today, so I think that's a good sign."

Sirius Black was dangerous, Tonks knew. And he also seemed to be a massive flirt.

It was an incongruous picture that Tonks had drawn in her mind. The one between who she knew to be a bad person, just from what she had heard around but never paid much mind to, as it was practically a given that a Black was a bad wizard, and the actual teenage boy she had been watching.

He was a Gryffindor.

He was best friends with James Potter.

Nobody had ever told her all that. Well, it's not like she had really asked. She hadn't thought about James Potter much at all, aside from the legends she heard about Harry being whisked away by Dumbledore and locked in a vault at Gringotts so that he could be protected from whatever baddies might still be out there looking for him. She had met a few people up and down who had sworn that they had met him, but her father said that was rubbish, and that The Daily Prophet couldn't even track the boy down.

James and Lily Potter.

She had seen their picture just once, in that damned Prophet celebrating the five year anniversary of You-Know-Who's defeat. That was during second year, and the only thing she remembered was being so enamored with Lily's hair – a rare burst of natural blood red, with no orange tint to it at all, which she had never really seen on anyone – that she had taken to wearing it for almost an entire week.

She'd not thought of them otherwise.

All these people… it was only twelve years, but Merlin, it was like she was surrounded by bloody ghosts.

Ghosts who had a tendency to shag every girl in the school.

"And why do you think he called you 'love'?" Tonks got back to the matter at hand as she walked across the dormitory to the mirror on the far wall, sighing at her boring reflection. Meredith's nose pointed up and to the left in profile; she could copy the other girl's appearance in an instant.

Except of course she couldn't.

But what if you did? a nasty little voice in the back of her mind asked. Dumbledore doesn't get to control you. He hasn't even spoken to you since you got here. Not much compassion for a little girl who could be scared out of her mind, for all the old man knows.

"It was a term of affection, Brunhilda!" Meredith declared before dramatically flopping onto her bed. A hopeless romantic, that one.

"He probably doesn't even remember your name," Tonks said flatly, turning to her roommate. Her tone didn't seem to faze the poor girl, though.

"He doesn't have to remember my name. He just has to remember me." Here Meredith giggled and Tonks rolled her eyes.

"He is disgusting, isn't he? The way he and Potter go about as if they rule the bloody school."

Seriously, Tonks couldn't wrap her mind around it. They were BEST FRIENDS. And maybe it was McGonagall's words getting to her, but she thought the Transfiguration professor might've been right; they did seem to enjoy tormenting people just a little too much.

Meredith just smiled. "They're not all that bad. James helped me once with Defense homework in the library. They're just immature," she stated with finality, with only the kind of faith-based common sense that would make Helga Hufflepuff proud. "They're boys. They will grow up."

"They're older than us," Tonks said quickly. "And they don't know the number one rule of comedy."

"Comedy?" Meredith sat up, like she was expecting Tonks to put on a show then. Tonks would've, really, if she had been in a different time…

"Yes," Tonks grinned. "You never laugh at your own jokes."

Tonks saw the flicker of confusion across Meredith's face, and she heard two of her other roommates' voices echoing through the common room – Mara and Winchester, those were their names. Tonks didn't know if the latter was a surname or not, but she didn't plan to ask too much. The less she got attached to these girls, the easier it would be in the long run, wouldn't it? Wouldn't it be awkward as hell when they got a letter twelve years from now: "Hello, my name is Tonks, and I am a teenager, but I also knew you when you were a teenager and I just thought I would check in. Make sure everything's in tip-top shape. Also, I hope you didn't die during the war."

Tonks cringed at that last thought. Yes, it was much better to avoid everybody here entirely. Especially when it came to things she hadn't realized until now she was woefully ignorant about. A lot of these people. . . Lily, the nosy girl that she was. . . James . . . Pettigrew. . . She had heard their names bandied about, but she still hadn't placed anyone else.

She didn't want to.

She wanted to go home.

"I have to go talk to Professor Dumbledore," she announced rather abruptly as the other girls walked in the room. Before they could ask, she elaborated: "I would like to know if he could set up a way for me to floo my father."

She managed only to bang her shin on the bedpost closest to the door as she left.

The corridor was surprisingly empty, though from the students she overheard, Gryffindor had won in a landslide. Wouldn't that just be great? She could already imagine the mania that the fifth year boys would cause. She would find herself partially amused because at least Potter and Black were interesting in this time and place, removed from all other things, but also annoyed because they would be gloating from their table like they were the best blokes to ever do pranks.

Subtlety, that's what they lacked. That was funny. Sarcasm. Irony. Satire. All the greats knew that there was more to humor than a well-timed pratfall.

For example, McGonagall couldn't very well expel Tonks for wearing a moustache to class, could she? No, she couldn't. She could send her to Madam Pomfrey, to ensure the facial hair was well-maintained, but she couldn't do a damn thing otherwise, even as the rest of the class couldn't stop laughing.

Comedy, that's what that was.

These boys were amateurs.

Tonks had been caught up in her reverie – in the memories of things that technically hadn't even happened yet, that she didn't realize the complete stillness in the corridor now.

One of the tapestries shivered as she walked past, and she stopped to stare at it in confusion. What was all that about?

Then she heard it.

She turned around suddenly.

No one.

It was the heavy sort of footstep that a boy had, she just knew it. Boys walked more on the front of their foot.

"A disillusionment charm?" she asked with a scoff. "How pathetic."

No response.

Tonks was sure there was someone there.

"If you're going to sneak around the castle, you should do so properly, you know," she went on. "Where's the adventure in being invisible?"

She thought she heard a cough but was interrupted by the unmistakable voice of her headmaster.

"What's all this about being invisible, Miss Bathswitch?"

Tonks blushed at the older wizard, as if his comment was on both her words and her previous conversation with McGonagall.

"I'm not sure, Professor," she said. "Perhaps I am just going a bit mad."

"Ah," he said, sounding good-humored. "Well there's nothing wrong with going mad, though I do advise you put it off for a few years yet. Were you heading to my office?"

"Er, yes, Professor," Tonks said, knowing full well that he knew she had been trying to speak to him for weeks now. "I wanted to talk with you about a few things. . . You know, like, maybe setting up a line of communication with my father?"

It wasn't the most graceful way of keeping her secret in the open hallway, and Dumbledore looked at her with a slight frown, but he did not seem to be terribly disgruntled. "Hmmm… yes, I suppose we should discuss that, shouldn't we?"

He nodded to himself, as if he had just made a decision, and then began the trek to his office with the implicit notion that Tonks was to follow.

As they turned the corner that led to Dumbledore's staircase, Tonks briefly thought about just what being headmaster entailed; for all she knew, Dumbledore had been very busy. Perhaps she had been too hasty to feel anger toward him for not helping her. There were, after all, bad things. Things she didn't understand. Things happening that people didn't even talk about where she was from.

After she and Dumbledore entered his office, the old man stood facing the doorway for a moment before nodding and closing it behind him.

Before Tonks could even ask, Dumbledore smiled at her. "Hiding in plain sight is a very valuable thing, Miss Bathswitch. I must admit I was bit disheartened to hear you did not entirely appreciate it."

Great. So the Professors had been blabbing to each other, after all.

"It's not that, Professor. . ." she began, but then she was cut off by a beautiful sound: a mournful song coming from an open cage distinctly to Tonks's left.

A phoenix.

"It's beautiful," Tonks breathed as she walked toward to the creature, who looked rather thin and sickly.

"You're familiar, then?" Dumbledore asked as Tonks felt his presence behind him. She nodded.

"They're very rare, aren't they?"

"Extremely. They're hard to contain, I think. I have known Fawkes a very long time, and he has shown me great loyalty. I treasure it, as I know he does not give it freely. However, he has been looking a bit peaked lately, which troubles me."

Tonks had to frown at that. Of course Professor Dumbledore would have a Phoenix… but wouldn't he also know what that entailed? Speaking of tails, the feathers on the creature seemed to reflect the candlelight in the Professor's office beautifully.

"Isn't that what Fawkes was born to do, though, Professor? Die?"

Dumbledore chortled. "How philosophical, Miss Bathswitch! Is that not what we are all born to do? Come to my desk."

Tonks was forced to mull over her Professor's rather cryptic – and depressing! – statement as she took the seat across from him once again.

The time only one portrait was occupied, a black-haired gentleman with a very stern face, a face which seemed to be scrutinizing Tonks all the more.

"I have been very impressed with your maturity regarding this situation, Miss Bathswitch," Professor Dumbledore began without preamble. "Many other witches and wizards in your situation might see fit to do something… reckless."

"What, like run away and find my family?" Tonks asked, realizing for the first time that that thought had always been in the back of her mind.

Dumbledore frowned thoughtfully and stroked at his beard. "If you were to do that, of course, I would never allow you back on the premises, nor would I allow you to be turned over to the Ministry. You would be forced to fend for yourself." He sighed. "It would be a very difficult life for a witch out of her time. A girl with no name, no face . . ."

Tonks felt the anger before she could quash it, and she could tell by the Professor's lifted eyebrows that her hair must have gone to being an exact match for Lily Evans's.

"Your appearance is affected by mood. That must be very difficult to control. I am happy you have been able to do so," he said simply.

"Happy?" she blurted. "Professor, I am not happy! I want to go home! I don't want to cause you any trouble – I don't want to cause anyone any trouble, but this is absolutely insane, and the fact that it's gone on so long. . . It'll be Christmas break soon, and then what? I will just sit in the dormitory all alone, missing my mother and father?"

"You could always play Exploding Snap instead."

Suddenly Tonks didn't like sarcasm as much anymore.

"I want to go home!" she repeated. "I miss my friends. I miss my life! I understand you've got more important priorities, but surely. . . I don't know, can't you, well, multi-task? Please, Professor!" Tonks was going to cry in front of Professor Dumbledore, but she found she didn't even care. "I've done everything you've asked of me. I don't know anybody here, so I can't. . ."

Professor Dumbledore looked kindly at the crying girl in front of him, but more in a pitying way than a truly empathetic one.

"Miss Bathswitch," he said softly, "I believe that we can never truly understand magic, and I say that as a headmaster at a school for such a thing. I am grateful to you for following my advice. In fact, earlier this morning, I was having a wonderful chat with Professor Binns, and he seemed to not even recall that you were in his class."

"Binns wouldn't recognize me even with my pink hair," Tonks grumbled.

Professor Dumbledore popped a lemon drop into his mouth then, not even bothering to offer one to Tonks. "What I find interesting about Cuthbert is that is he has always used various coping mechanisms to deal with his issues. Issues I won't bore you with, dear girl, but the point is. . . I decided to show you Fawkes today for a reason. Can you guess it?"

The sudden shift in conversation startled Tonks and she rubbed her eyes and nose quickly, realizing that her nose had practically turned into a fountain in front of her headmaster.

"Er. . ." Tonks tried to think. "Trust?" she guessed. "You didn't let me see him before."

He smiled. "That's partly true, and also partly wrong. Some people will tell you there's either right or wrong, but I don't think very highly of those people. My main reason was to ask you what you thought of his imminent demise, a rather unexpected one, at that. When Fawkes returns, I always feel that he remembers me, but is that wishful thinking on my part? Can something change and still be completely the same?"

Tonks sighed. "Professor, I am not in Ravenclaw. I don't like this conversation. You've already told me that I am trapped here. And you're not going to let me explain any more about how I got here, are you?"

Dumbledore's face resumed its neutral stance. "No, I am afraid not."

"And you're not going to tell me about any progress you've made in trying to send me back or what you're thinking, or any of that, are you?" Tonks couldn't help it. Her voice was rising again. Her hair was still red, shimmering like the phoenix feathers, she imagined.

"No," he said again. "Some matters are unspeakable, I am afraid."

"Then, you know what?!" Tonks stood quickly and felt the blood rush to her forehead. "I APPARATED! I APPARATED right back to a time that's barely anything at all!" Once her words started, Tonks found herself with the same problem she always had – her mouth just wouldn't stop. "And I would check your bloody Sorting Hat because Sirius Black should've been a Slytherin if I've ever known one!"

Dumbledore really didn't look happy this time. "Calm down, Miss Bathswitch."

"He's really not a Slytherin," the portrait spoke up for the first time, and Tonks realized he had been watching the back and forth between the two for the duration of their conversation. "Though I am surprised that was not the house you were sorted into."

"What do I care what you think?" Tonks spat, and she must've been mad because she couldn't recall ever yelling at a portrait before.

Professor Dumbledore raised a placating hand. "Quiet, Phineas. Brunhilda, I hereby remove one hundred points from Hufflepuff house."

The calm tone of her professor seemed to jar Tonks back to reality. She felt her hair fading.

"But… they'll be in last place, won't they?"

"What do you care, Miss Bathswitch?" Dumbledore was speaking to her as if she was stupid now. "They're not your friends, as you've made clear. You seem to have very tenuous connections to this time, and whatever knowledge you do have, you seem intent on blackmailing me with."

Tonks blinked. "Blackmail?"

"You did not offer your opinion on Sirius Black out of the goodness of your heart, did you? Nor was it mere observation, I imagine," he said simply. "Now, I kindly ask that you leave my office. When I find out something that will help you, I will let you know." Dumbledore stood and began to lead Tonks to the door. "And for the record, I am very disappointed with the duplicitous nature you've displayed today."

Duplicitous? Tonks felt like she had been punched in the gut. The only time she had been called that was by very closed-minded wizards, her mother had promised her.

Dumbledore had told her he would never let her come back if she ran away, but would her own parents really disown her? Maybe they would be happy to have two kids for the price of one? Or maybe she would just destroy everything if she met her baby-self. She didn't know. Probably the only wizard in the whole world who did know had just called her duplicitous.

"I'm sorry, Professor," she muttered, staring at the plain black oxfords that now made up the entirety of her shoe collection. "I lost my temper. I shouldn't have. . ."

"Don't worry, too much, Miss Bathswitch," and this time the old man had gone back to sounding quite kind. "It is a big burden for a child to carry a secret such as yours. For my part, I will try to. . . speed up my efforts to send you home."

When Tonks met his eyes, the Professor was smiling. "It is Halloween tomorrow, after all. A wonderful day of celebration. I think you will find it very enjoyable from Professor Binns' classroom, where you will be helping him sort through his many years of research."

Detention?! Professor Dumbledore had just taken away a hundred points and was giving her the world's more boring detention?!

"That's. . .I mean, you don't think that's a bit extreme, Professor?" she asked, but he was already opening his door and practically shooing her away.

"Not at all. You just told me that you managed to break the very castle's magic itself. I do believe I am letting you off rather easy. Keep you temper in check, Miss Bathswitch, or I will have Madam Pomfrey prescribe you a calming drought."

And then the door was shut. She was alone in the corridor, again.

If she had been paying more attention, she would have noticed the tapestry this time; the one that had twitched before had now wrapped itself around her and began twirling her around in a very crude imitation of a ballroom dance.

Castle's magic. . .

She remembered the day of the slime, the way Potter and Black had been acting shocked as first years after first years kept getting stuck on the steps and being moved all around the school, practically crying, and even Professor Flitwick himself had managed to get himself tangled up in it.

"Whatever will we do?" Sirius had cried dramatically.

"The school is trying to keep us here forever, what a terrible fate!" James had said.

Merlin, they'd been such preening bastards.

The tapestry dipped her quite suddenly and her long hair brushed the floor.

"So that's what they're doing," she mused aloud. "They're messing with all the school fixtures that have already been enchanted."

The tapestry didn't respond, but just gave her one big spin before untangling her from its grasp.

"It's pretty clever," she decided. "But it still lacks subtlety."

Pettigrew, the poor boy, couldn't stop from laughing, so he kept hiding his chubby red face behind Sirius, and Lupin. . .

He had been pretending to read a book, and when the time came for the boys to go to class, he had merely stepped over one of the small children without even looking at him.

Tonks chuckled. That was pretty funny. He was an all right sort. It was a shame she hadn't heard of him. That meant that he had either ended up on the dark route with Sirius – and here she remembered how quickly he had offered his hand when she practically barreled into him – or in the war he had . . .

She continued to stare at the tapestry as it gave her a bow. She bowed in turn.

The bow must've been Lupin's idea, she decided.

Suddenly, everything about today came back into perspective as she made her way back to her dorms. She would have to explain about the house points, and missing any of the many parties that were sure to happen during Halloween. She would have to sit alone in her bed and think of all the ways she had mucked up her conversation with Dumbledore.

She would have to think about the war, and how many really nice people she was getting forced to know who would end up completely dead.