Nymphadora Tonks: The Last Auror

Book 2 of the Iron and Magic series by mugglesftw

Authors note:

This document Beta'd by InquisitorCOC

Harry Potter owned by JK Rowling.

This is a work of fiction. Depictions of real persons, locations, and political events are fictitious. There is no wizarding world. There was no wizarding war. Do not look at the man behind the curtain.

This story is a sequel, and while I believe you can enjoy it without reading the first book, Harry Potter and the Iron Lady, there are many things that have changed from 1981-1993 that this story will not go into great detail about. This ranges from characters who are much more important (like Tonks) or characters who are dead (like go read the first book).

Unlike the first book in this series, this story also features primarily adult protagonists and antagonists. As such, there will frequently be adult situations in this book. This book is a war story, and as such the level of violence, profanity, and even romantic situations will be at adult levels. If Harry Potter and the Iron Lady was rated PG, this story is R, and that is reflected in its M rating. While I have striven not to create anything obscene, I felt that denying the very real horrors of war would do a disservice to everyone.

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Chapter 1: Judgement Calls

When Tonks had been a little girl, she had many nightmares about Death Eaters coming for her and her family. Her mother was a blood traitor, her father was a muggleborn. She had grown up under the shadow cast by Lord Voldemort, living in the very real fear that her family would be slaughtered as so many others had been. Her mother had been a great friend with Marlene McKinnon, and had been the one to find Sirius Black weeping over the body of his slaughtered lover.

At night, Tonks' parents had hugged her and kissed her and promised that she would be safe.

Tonks had known they were lying. She still awoke some nights in a cold sweat, remembering the night the Death Eaters had attacked her home. She remembered seeing her mother's bloodied face as her father treated it while she hid under the kitchen table. She had heard the battle cries of the Order of the Phoenix as they arrived to rescue them. And she had seen the bodies of Gideon and Fabian Prewett after the fight. Gideon's head had been half gone. Fabian's chest had been ripped open, his organs spilling out in a black goo.

They had not been the last casualties. Tonks remembered James and Lily Potter. She remembered the baby Harry. She remembered the news, that the Dark Lord was defeated, followed by her father weeping bitter tears when Frank and Alice Longbottom were tortured for hours and driven mad. Tonks remembered bringing flowers to place on gravestones of friends who had died.

And damn it all, that shit was not going to happen again to her sprogs. Not again. That was why Tonks was in this metal corridor beneath the safe house the muggles had taken her too when she'd rescued her pupils from Hogwarts by betraying the rest of the professors. The metal doors of the elevator she was waiting for chimed open, and a young man stepped forward.

Tonks nodded to Harry, her star pupil, as he came up from the depths of the bunker. His crisp military uniform made her heart sink though. Harry was just 13. He was too young to be fighting against the Dark Lord and all the rest of Magical Britain.

"Wotcher, Harry."

"Hello Professor. You going down to see the Director too?"

Tonks frowned. "Don't know anything about no Director. Charlie here just told me to come along." She nodded to Sergeant Charles Prewett. A lot of the guards around their safe house were comfortable around the sprogs, even if they did have magic. Tonks, however, made them nervous. They knew full well she had been an auror, if only a trainee, and that she was an accomplished magical fighter: after all, it was she who took down Albus Dumbledore and the rest of the Hogwarts professors. They didn't trust her in the least, especially since her going over to Harry's side had involved her betraying her coworkers. Still, at least her sprogs were safe.

"Oh, well, I'm sure they'll explain things to you, Professor. Bye."

Tonks stood quietly in the elevator beside Charles Prewett, who had changed back into his SAS uniform. The man had claimed to have retired and had become her friend as the Caretaker of Hogwarts, after the sudden retirement of Argus Filch. Of course, Argus Filch had retired in the sense that he'd been shipped off to the Canadian wilderness somewhere at the gunpoint, and Charles Prewett had never retired, only become a spy.

"I wonder what would have happened if I'd turned you in, back in '92 when old Mad Eye and I had you figured out," Tonks said as the chimes sounded as they descended into the depths of the earth.

"Then we'd have had this whole mess a year early instead of now," Charles said, shrugging. "It was inevitable, really."

"You just had to go and kill Umbridge," Tonks sighed. Charles glared at her and started to speak, but Tonk held up her hands. "Oh, I don't blame you. If I'd come in on her torturing one of the kids I'd likely have done the same thing. But I'm an ex-auror and a witch. Your a squib soldier. It's different, you know. I agree Dumbledore butchered the whole thing, but he did claim to know and have a plan."

"She tortured my daughter," Charles stated coldly. "She signed her death warrant in Mafalda's blood."

Tonks was grateful that the elevator's chim sounded for a final time and the doors opened just then, preventing further conversation on this very awkward subject.

"This way sir, miss," a soldier said, his rifle cradled in his hands. Tonks and Prewett followed him to a conference room, where an old woman sat amidst a stack of papers and reports at the far end.

"I know you," Tonks blurted. "You're the old Muggle Prime Minister, Margaret Thatcher. What are you doing here?"

"It's Director Thatcher, now," the woman said, looking up from her papers. "I'm the Director for the Department of Magical Affairs. We're a part of the Ministry of Defense."

Tonks flinched, knowing what that meant. "So, what? You want to arrest me?"

"Far from it. I want to recruit you, Auror Tonks. Please, have a seat. Sergeant, wait outside. I'll speak with you in a moment."

Prewett saluted and spun about, exiting the room as the doors shut quietly behind him. Tonks swallowed and tried to keep calm. Charles was the only one she knew, the only member of the magical community that could anchor her.

"Recruit me, ma'am? For what?"

"Voldemort us has returned openly. He has declared himself Lord of Magical Britain. At the moment, only a small fraction of the Wizengamot, lead by Albus Dumbledore, opposes him. However, instead of joining with us, fighting for those without magic against Voldemort's tyranny, Dumbledore and his followers are enacting the Edict of Merlin. They intend to seal Hogwarts and themselves away for all time, forever separating from the rest of the world."

"What? They're abandoning the kids?" Tonks demanded. "They know I'm with them, but still, they're just going to let the rest of the world hang? If they leave us alone with Voldemort, he'll try and kill or enslave every last muggle and blood traitor out there." And that includes me, Tonks didn't say.

"I cannot speak to the Headmaster's plans, only those that he shares with our spy," Thatcher answered.

"But Charles is here, how could he still be spying on you?"

Thatcher smiled. "We are not without our sources. I cannot give you any further details until you agree to aide us. However, we do need your help. We must extract our spy, and any other students from mundane families who do not wish to be sealed away for all time. We-"

"I'll do it," Tonks said, standing up. "Whatever oath you want me to take, whatever you want me to do, I'm in. I'll save the kids, all of them, if I can." She drew her wand, and heard metallic clicks behind her. "I'll swear a magical oath, right now." She waved her wand, but didn't feel anything. Frowning, she tried again, trying to cast a simple spell. Nothing happened.

"I am afraid you will find it quite impossible to take a magical oath in this bunker, Auror Tonks," Thatcher stated. "Gentlemen, safe your weapons, this young woman is no danger to us down here."

Tonks tried to morph her face, and found she couldn't. It was like she was stuck. "What did you do?" Tonks asked, feeling suddenly very naked and vulnerable.

"This entire complex is protected by the strongest anti-magical protection we've been able to devise. We have a Radium Bottle, a modified Faraday cage, and several other things in place even I don't know about. If Death Eaters or the Ministry attack us, they'll be in for a nasty surprise," Thatcher stated.

Tonks put her wand away, her hand trembling slightly. "I don't suppose you have a way to take away the bad guys' magic, do you?"

"We have a few experimental weapons systems, but nothing that works outside of a highly controlled environment," Thatcher said. "And wars are not won by holing up in bunkers, nor can we put the entire population of Britain behind these kind of defenses. As for magical oaths, I will require only that you take the same oath of service that all members of the military take."

Tonks nodded. "Alright, I can do that. Then let's get going. I don't want to leave any kids who want out behind."

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Tonks exited the room and grimaced. "Your turn."

Charles nodded and stepped inside, saluting the director crisply. "Ma'am." He knew what this was about. He'd been informed yesterday. It was time to pay the piper. If he had to do it all over again though, he'd still have shot that bitch.

"One moment, Sergeant."

The back doors opened, a medical officer and two general staff officers stepped into the room, including Colonel Yates, who was the commanding officer of the SAS regiment Charles was a part of.

"The court martial for Charles Prewett concerning the execution of one Dolores Umbridge, employee of the British Ministry of Magic with the title of Hogwarts Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor is now in session. We have your report, Sergeant, but for the sake of the record please repeat your version of events," Director Thatcher said.

"Yes ma'am. I was coming back from the Forbidden Forest with my cousin, William Weasley. He stopped at Rubeus Hagrid's hut for stew, and I headed up to the castle. On the way, two more of my cousins, Ronald and Percival Weasley, came up to me and informed me that Umbridge was torturing my daughter, Mafalda Rachel Prewett."

Charles swallowed his anger, and did his best to press on in a calm tone. "I ran back to the castle as fast as I could. I found Umbridge forcing Mafalda to write with a blood quill."

Colonel Yates interrupted. "Please describe the nature of a blood quill."

"It's a dark magical artefact that uses the blood of whoever holds it as ink. It also leaves deep scars in the back of the hand when used to write the same thing repeatedly. They're banned by the Ministry of Magic and considered to be a class 2 dark artefact."

"Let the record show that both Mafalda Prewett, Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown have all been found to have wounds consistent with the use of a blood quill," the medical officer stated.

"Continue, Sergeant," the Director ordered.

"Yes ma'am. When I found Umbridge, I ordered her to release my daughter, who was under a compulsion to use the blood quill. She refused. I once again ordered her to let my daughter go, and Umbridge threatened myself and my cousins. Seeing as she was a powerful witch, and she was already using an illegal device to torture my daughter, I determined that I had no course of action but to kill her. I drew my weapon and shot her twice. She was dead before she hit the ground."

"I have here the testimony of Ronald and Percival Weasley," Colonel Yates said, tapping a set of documents. "They indicate that a compelling charm had to be removed from Mafalda Prewett once Umbridge was dead, and that she did indeed threaten them and the Sergeant with bodily harm using magic."

"The Sergeants side arm was turned over and examined after the incident in question," the other officer said. "Two rounds expended, which matches with his testimony. We do not have the body of Dolores Umbridge to examine, but our sources report that she was indeed dead of two gunshot wounds. One to the forehead, the other to her chest cavity, going through the heart."

Colonel Yates grunted. "Good shooting, Sergeant."

"Thank you, sir." Prewett had to fight back a slight smile.

"After reviewing eyewitness testimony and physical evidence, this court finds the execution of Dolores Umbridge to be a valid act in the line of duty. All charges are dismissed, the Sergeant is to resume his duties immediately," the Director said. She smiled at the Sergeant. "I met Mafalda. She's a sweet little girl who loves her father very much. She says you saved her. I am inclined to agree. Return to your post, Sergeant. You're going back to Hogwarts."

A feeling of immense relief swept over Charles. He'd been willing to go to jail or even face execution for his killing of Dolores Umbridge. After all, he'd likely just kicked off a major war between the magical and mundane halves of Great Britain, and Umbridge had been a British citizen. "Thank you, ma'am." He saluted and turned on his heels.

It looked like Umbridge might not be the only witch he killed this week.

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All his life, Percy Weasley had wanted one thing: respect. At first, it had only been the respect of his older brothers, Bill and Charlie. As a child, Percy had never earned that respect. Bill was six years older than him, Charlie four. They'd never seen Percy as more than the child he was, and treated him as such. Percy had then turned to getting the respect of his younger siblings: Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny. The twins didn't respect anyone or anything, and Ron, like Percy, worshiped his eldest brothers, not his boring middle brother. As for Ginny, she was obsessed with a fantasy Boy-Who-Lived. And so, Percy had no respect.

It wasn't that Percy's parents didn't love him and praise him, but rather that with so many children in the family there was only so much attention to go around, and Percy was the quiet, well behaved one. Unlike the headstrong Bill, recklessly brave Charlie, marauding twins, adventurous Ron, or fiery tempered Ginny, Percy kept an even keel and always followed the rules, believing they would bring him the respect he craved.

Until one fateful year, when the rules came crashing down around him. It had started at Madam Malkin's.

"First year at Hogwarts?" Percy had said, smiling down at the short blonde boy getting measured for his robes.

The boy had sneered up at Percy. "Of course. Why else would I be here?"

Feeling a bit offended, Percy had frowned at the boy, but had of course, bragged about his new position. "I've just been made prefect. That's why I'm here, mother agreed that she couldn't have a prefect going to school in second hand robes. Perhaps you'll be in Gryffindor, then you'll be with me as I'm in charge of the firsties this year."

"As if I would want to be with your pathetic brood in Gryffindor. I know who you are, you're a Weasley. Who cares if you've made Prefect? You're just another one of Dumbledore's puppets. My father says Gryffindors are all foolhardy idiots."

"Who are you to insult my house?" Percy had snapped. "You're just another snot nosed firstie. I suppose you think you'll be in Hufflepuff then?"

"Of course not. I'll be with all the proper wizards in Slytherin, as my father was before. A Malfoy in Hufflepuff. The very idea."

Percy had been about to sneer back, but checked himself. He had aspirations, after all. The Malfoys were a powerful and influential family. His own father had gotten nowhere hitching himself to Dumbledore's coattails.

"Oh, well, I know the name of Malfoy of course. Your father is very close to the Minister, is he not?"

At this, Draco practically preened himself. His previously hostile demeanor vanished, and he smiled at Percy. "Why, Minister Fudge is practically a family friend. We had him over for dinner just last Wednesday."

"I've always looked up to the Minister," Percy had gushed. "I'm looking forward to a career in the ministry you know. Plan on getting my NEWTS in History of Magic, Arithmancy, Transfiguration, and Charms. I'd like to get a position in the Department of Magical Transportation, preferably in the Portkey Office. I've always been interested in portkeys, fascinating devices really."

In hindsight, Percy should have noticed the knowing smile on Draco's face. The boy had asked him seemingly innocent questions and what sounded like praise, but upon reflection, "All you could aspire to be with your family" had been far less than flattering.

"Nearly done Draco?" an equally bored voice had drawled as Lucius Malfoy stepped in.

"Yes father, I'm quite done here," Draco had said.

Percy had waved and bowed. "Mr. Malfoy sir! It's an honor to meet someone so influential at the ministry as yourself sir. I was just telling Draco about my research into magical transportation, as he's quite keen on brooms you see. I'd like to pursue a career in the Ministry myself."

The elder Malfoy had raised an eyebrow. "The only career a Malfoy needs is being the lord of our estate. Who, exactly is this, Draco?"

"A Weasley, father. Perry, was it?"

Percy ignored the obvious barb, blind to everything but his ambitions."Percy, and I'm-"

"Ah, Arthur's son, is it? Your father has something of a reputation you know. An obsession with muggles. I do hope you don't share that."

"Oh, no sir. I'm nothing like my father," Percy had declared. He'd felt guilty saying that, because in truth his lifelong ambition was to be like his father, or at least a better, more successful version that got the attention and respect he deserved. Percy had never felt as though he'd been given the attention he deserved from his father, and while he did feel a twinge of guilt, a part of him felt good denying the Weasley Patriarch.

"Well, perhaps Draco would do well to emulate you. I see you have a prefect badge. Hopefully, you don't simply follow the wrong man blindly and end up nearly destitute. If you're ever interested in making some real connections, you'd do well to look to Draco here. But, we must be off."

Percy had felt like he was really making progress, until a few weeks later he'd been on the Hogwarts Express, doing his rounds. He'd made his way to Draco's compartment, intending to show off his new robes and try to take the young boy under his wing. He's paused outside the compartment to knock, when he heard voices.

"-saw another Weasley. I tell you, he was even dumber than the one I met at madam Malkin's. That prat couldn't stop flashing his prefect badge. As if he got it on merit. It's only because his father's Dumbledore's pet. Real quick to grovel for father and I though. I suppose that has some redeeming value. You'll see though, we'll be able to do anything with him around, I'll just name drop my father and make vague promises about getting him a position in the ministry. I've always wanted a pet, and I suppose a Hogwarts prefect isn't too bad, even if he is a Weasley."

Percy had flushed red and lowered his hand, stalking away. When he'd seen Draco trying to bully Ron later, Percy had put his foot down. He'd thought he'd enforced the rules well, and that he'd shown Draco.

How wrong he had been. Ron had been nearly murdered by Draco and his cronies later that year, along with his friends in the Defense Club. Percy had looked to adults to solve the situation, for the rules to assert themselves, but they hadn't. Instead it had been muggles who offered to help, including Percy's own squib cousin. The next year had been even worse, with the Ministry marching off a professor Percy had rather liked in chains because he'd been on Malfoy's bad side, and two students from respected families expelled.

The rules of the wizarding world hadn't helped Percy. He'd have to choose, and he'd chosen family. Now, he had to go get his brother, the one that seemed to have picked career over what was right.

"Sir, can I speak with you a moment?" Percy asked as his cousin Sergeant Prewett got off of the lift.

"I'm in a bit of a hurry Percy, can it wait?"

"No, sir. I want to go with you. I want to go back to Hogwarts with you and Tonks. I know you have to go, to get the other Muggleborn kids out before they enact that Edict of Merlin. I want to go. Bill's there. I need to talk to him, to help him see reason."

The older man paused, stopping and studying Percy's face carefully. "And what if he doesn't want to come back, lad? What will you do then?"

Percy swallowed, his stomach tightening into a knot. "If he won't see reason, then at least I'll know I have tried. But I'm not just leaving him."

"What if he fights? Joins with the enemy?"

Percy looked down for a moment. He'd never hated Bill, resented him a little, sure. But he loved his eldest brother. Finally, Percy looked back up. "Then I'll fight. I've got family here to look after. I made my choice, sir. When I came with you instead of staying with Dumbledore."

Prewett nodded slowly. "Alright then. Come on, we'll get you and Tonks your gear. It's time to saddle up."

An hour later, Percy was back aboard the helicopters as they lifted off, two full squadrons of SAS troopers aboard, along with Percy and Tonks. He glanced over at the ex-Auror, dressed in Muggle battlegear but still armed only with her wand. Her hair had gone lank and black instead of it's normally bubbly pink color. She smiled wanly at him.

"Do you think everyone will come with us willingly?" Percy asked, using the helicopters headset.

Tonks shrugged. "I hope at least my folks do, and some other people. I'm just curious to know who the spy we're supposed to rescue along with the muggleborn kids is."

"It's Snape," Percy said. "I'm sure of it. He's been in on the whole thing for ages."

"Snape?" Tonks demanded, shocked enough that her hair went gray for a moment. "Damn. Never thought the old bugger had an ounce of sympathy for the muggles."

"Honestly?" Percy said. "I think he just wanted to be on the winning side."

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Deep within the Department of Mysteries, hooded figures stood around a circle inscribed in blood, chanting softly. At the head of a circle stood a young man, his eyes dark and cruel as he held the ritual knife over the weekly struggling woman on her knees before him. She was some muggle bitch one of the Death Eaters had hauled in off the streets, but she would do even if her impure blood was not what young Lord Voldemort would have prefered. He glanced at the center of the circle, where his chosen lady panted and groaned in the agonies of labor, squatting over a series of dark runes.

At the food of the circle stood a corpse. It chanted along with rest, it's jaws opening and shutting like that of a marionette. The teeth of the monstrosity were cracked and blackened, its skin grey and beginning to rot. Nearly all of the hair had been harvested for polyjuice potion, but thankfully there was no longer any need for Junior to impersonate the original owner of the body; his father. The current occupant of what had once been Bartemius Crouch Senior's mortal shell was none other than Voldemort himself, abet his older, more foolish version. The real Lord Voldemort had spent many years in his Diary, naught but a memory until he had consumed the flesh and soul of the foolish scion of the Malfoy bloodline. Draco had been so easy to manipulate, even more so than his pathetic father had been.

In a straight line between the two Voldemorts lay the cup of Helga Hufflepuff, another repository for a fragment of Voldemort's soul. Beside the elder Voldemort chanted Bellatrix Lestrange, still thin and haggard from her time in Azkaban, but eager to once more serve her lord. In her hand she clutched a knife the twin of Young Voldemort's own, though it was held to the corpse's throat. She was far uglier than the vessel Young Voldemort had chosen to be his Dark Lady, one Pansy Parkinson. Despite the fact that her role was nearly complete, Voldemort had consented to modify this ceremony so that her life would be spared. It wasn't because he felt any real attachment to the girl he'd impregnated with his elder version's future vessel, but because after all, she was rather amusing to play with, and he could always use another child as a potential host. Hence the presence of the Muggle woman. It would have been better with a witch, but every last one of those was going to be needed in the coming campaign to finally exterminate or enslave the Muggle world.

At last the chanting reached a crescendo as Pansy howled, and the baby's head emerged from her womb and prepared to take its first breath. As it did so, the knives descended upon their victim. The Muggle woman let out a final gurgle, then her soul essence began to flow into Pansy. For the corpse's part, it fell without a sound, but a most unearthly shriek filled the room as the soul in the corpse was flung into the goblet. For a moment, the goblet glowed, then shattered. Part of the soul flowed into Young Voldemort, who inhaled deeply as he felt his soul fragments merge and reform. His mind spun as he gained knowledge, and his body surged as power flowed through him.

For the babies part, its heart stopped for a moment as it finally fully emerged from the womb. Then, it coughed twice, and began to laugh. It was not the laugh of a child, full of innocence and wonder. It was a sick, gurgling sound, the sound of death taking amusement in the cruel irony of life. Breaking the circle, Voldemort strode forward, past the corpse of the Muggle woman, past his unconscious bride, to the babe. He reached down and picked up the still laughing child and looked into its eyes, smiling.

"I could kill you now, you know. Take your essence into myself. You would never be a threat to me then."

The baby ceased its laughter and glared at Tom, its dark eyes narrowing in anger as its fists reflexively clenched.

"Oh, no, I won't do it. Not right now, anyway. You have your part to play, and I mine. Besides: I am the elder and stronger now. You held me in your power before. It is only right I do the same in turn."

Voldemort turned to Bellatrix and jerked his head at Pansy. "Get her up. This one needs nursing." He handed the child form of his elder self off to one of his Death Eaters and strode from the chamber. Phase one was complete.

"Get the others ready!" Voldemort snarled to Crabbe and Goyle, who had been guarding the entrance to the Department of Mysteries. "It's time these isles knew who their true Lord and Master were."