For a Friend. (SPOILERS - HBP chapter one), Contains book 6 chapter 1 spoiler. Options

[Nicola]

Well, I haven't posted any fanfiction for a while, but any fears I had that I would not be able to write after the publication of book 6 were unfounded - it's just what I needed to get me going. And contrary to what my regular readers may think, it was as early as chapter one of the new book that my first idea bounced off the page at me, and I knew I had to carry on writing.

I love to write about the Tonks family. In "the world in my head" as I like to refer to the setting of all my fics, Andromeda's best friend since Hogwarts has been Amelia Bones. I know this is never mentioned in canon, but when I read of Amelia's demise in chapter one I really felt for Andromeda. Amelia's death will probably be overlooked by most people in the wider scope of HBP, so I thought she deserved a tribute.

This is my first piece of post-book-six (canon) fanfic, and I think also one of the first on the whole forums.


Disclaimer: The characters of Amelia Bones, Andromeda Tonks, Nymphadora Tonks, Ted Tonks, Gideon Prewitt, Fabian Prewitt, Sirius Black and Molly Weasley, together with anything else you recognise belong to JK Rowling. I just "borrowed" them. Everything else, including any non-canon relationships between these characters, is mine. Please ask before taking.



Dearest Amelia,

I'm not sure what I am doing, but I appear to be writing you a letter. I suppose when I have finished, I will give it to Amarante and see if he finds somewhere to deliver it or dispose of it. As long as he does not bring it back to me, I don't really care.

I found out this morning. Nymphadora came home specially and intercepted the Prophet owl, before it could reach the kitchen window to drop the paper on the breakfast table as it normally would. I heard the clang of the doorbell and thought of those daft leaflets the Ministry has been sending round. I'm sorry, Milly, I suppose you must have had a hand in writing them. Not half as much fun as those Quidditch programmes we used to make for Ravenclaw though, I bet. You can hardly stick random charms and enchantments on a pamphlet urging caution. No, it was a very plain piece of paper, which I hope you don't mind me saying was covered in rather useless advice, and it became lining for the cat litter rather quickly. So, I pondered the counsel of the leaflet for a moment; we aren't accustomed to visitors at such an early hour, but then the bell began ringing more urgently and I dismissed all notion of silly security questions and flung open the door. Why shouldn't I? It's my home. Anyway, I digress. Standing on the doorstep was Nymphadora, paler than usual- (although I admit I barely know what "usual" is these days, she is away so much. And when she does drop in, it's once every few months and never for long. Be thankful, in a strange and twisted up way, Amelia, that you never had children. They are the most wonderful blessing, but a knife constantly turning in your heart in times such as these.) I greeted her with an exclamation of delight, but it was barely reciprocated. No sooner were the words out of my mouth, then I realised it wasn't a lovely surprise at all. I went to hug her, but the embrace she returned was limp and tired. And then she told me, in a drained sort of way, that I ought to sit down. This was when I realised that something really was amiss- that it wasn't simply overwork or a diet of takeaways and Kwik-Kauldron Noodles that had fatigued her face.

Silently she held out a newspaper towards me. I reached for it tentatively, but even as I did, she seemed to hold it back again.
"Mum," her voice croaked. "I was there- I saw it. For once the Prophet has got it right- you should read it, but I wanted you to know that-" her voice trailed off.
Panic rose in my throat, but nothing could have prepared me for the headline on the front page. "Broken Bones: Respected Ministry Witch Brutally Murdered". I read on, I couldn't soak in the words fast enough, yet I found myself reading every line 3 or 4 times before I could actually make sense of the words. I felt Nymphadora's hands gently massaging my shoulders and stroking my hair, murmuring how sorry she was between sobs. I couldn't cry. Not then, not yet- will I ever? How can I grieve for a friend so dear? Surely crying for you means admitting you are not a part of my life anymore, making a choice to go on without you- I don't want your memory to become nothing more than the picture that stared out of the Prophet. The official Ministry picture of the grey-haired witch with the monocle and the stern expression, with not a trace of your impish humour glowing behind those imposing eyes. I need to keep the real memories of you fresh- not the images that this article has hurled into my mind, not the Ministry big-wig who came up with so many policies that improved our society. I have already started brewing the potion. It is bubbling and chattering merrily behind me, but I feel like all it really wants to do is screech at the unfairness of the world.

Of course, you know all about unfairness. I cannot bear to even imagine what your loss must have been like- find it incredible that there could be worse depths of feelings- or maybe it's a lack of feeling- than these. It was always me and Ted, you and Gideon, from the 7th year at Hogwarts onwards. Unlike me, you weren't forced into a young marriage by lack of anywhere else to go. You even offered me a space on the floor of your tiny flat when I was thrown out by my mother – all you could afford on that pitiful Deputy Junior Under-Secretary's wage (even then you knew you'd go far!) but I was happy to marry Ted at 19. He was all I wanted. You and Gideon, meanwhile, enjoyed a few more carefree years before finally deciding to tie the knot. We had all known it would happen eventually – you two were just so unconventional that nobody could predict when. And then, my dear friend – and yes, I am going to tease you mercilessly about this! – you turned almost overnight from the bold, hardy woman who wasn't afraid to muck in and get her hands dirty, to the most incredibly mushy girly-girl. If that's what planning a wedding does for you, I'd better get Nymphadora fixed up – it might get her out of those torn jeans and stop her from chewing her nails, and put her hair back to normal for once. Come to think of it, it was normal today, actually. I barely noticed in the light of the ensuing news.

We were in Madam Malkin's, trying on bridal robes for your wedding the day it happened. I had on the most ridiculous white powderpuff of a dress, adorned with fairies and complete with shooting stars from the rear, and you had on robes which made you look, for the first (and I think the last) time in your life; elegant. You were laughing so hard at my dress we didn't hear the commotion at first. Not until that chilling scream which was muffled slightly by the sound of the issuer choking on his own curdling blood. I must have looked just as pale and terrified as you did, but something in your eyes changed, something peculiar that I couldn't quite define. "Gids..." you gasped. You knew, instantly, that something in your world had changed, even before we hoiked up our satin skirts and raced off down Diagon Alley towards the Dark Mark glowering sickeningly over the corner with Knockturn Alley. There must have been noise and commotion on all sides, but I didn't hear it. The air was silent save for whistling past my ears as I pelted after you down the street. And then I reached you... looking grotesquely beautiful in the flowing golden wedding robes, your face anguished and hot. I didn't want to follow your gaze, but couldn't help myself... and there were the remains of clearly not just one, but what we would later learn were actually five bodies. Five good people who fought courageously to the end. And strikingly visible among them, at the front as though they had been trying to protect the other innocent victims, who we later discovered had been wandless students, lay the cold-eyed corpses of not only Gideon, but his brother Fabian too. They had put up a good fight – that much was obvious from the damage to their battered bodies and the surrounding carnage. I suspect you went much the same way. I suspected it even before Nymphadora refused resolutely to tell me what she had seen at your house. "It would break your heart, Mum," was all she managed to whisper.

I have little memory of the weeks which followed the massacre in Diagon Alley, but certain scenes stick out like shards of glass. You seemed to sober the moment you heard that scream, and gone forever was the girly bride-to-be Amelia of the past few months. I preferred the old Amelia anyway, but the force with which your personality reverted was almost frightening. Ted and I held you at the funeral. Gideon's sister Molly was sobbing almost hysterically, and we urged you to talk or weep or to express your grief somehow. It seemed better out than in - I never really knew how you were feeling during that time. Within 3 weeks of the funeral, your hair had turned completely grey. It actually suited you somehow, but it was stomach-churning to look at for a long time - the only manifestation of any kind of grief, clear for all to see. You were clearly upset... you spoke little and you smiled even less, but you never cried. Not once. And you never spoke of him as though he were gone. You told me, after I had questioned you relentlessly one day, that you did not want to get over his death, as it would harm the memories that were all you had left of him. You did not want the pain to leave you, because that would mean he was leaving you too... becoming less real to you.

It's only now that I finally understand what you meant.

I remember the first day we met, at Hogwarts. We were timid little things back then, standing in line for the Sorting. Well, as we were soon to discover, neither of us was in the least bit mouselike normally - but with all the rumours flying about battling trolls and sitting complicated Arithmancy exams, the Sorting had seemed to have stoked a feeling of trepidation in each of us.
"My family have always been Hufflepuffs. Every last one of them," you whispered to me, the girl standing behind you. "How about yours?"
"Slytherins" I replied. "Every last one of them."
I did not tell you then that I was desperately hoping for anything but Slytherin... of course in due time you would come to know me so well that it was one of the most glaringly obvious facts about me, but at the time it seemed treacherous somehow to tell a stranger that I wanted to counter the family tradition because, quite frankly, I had hated every Slytherin I had ever met - including my older sister.
Your utter surprise at being sorted into Ravenclaw contrasted sharply with my sheer relief. Mind you, your brother Edgar's congratulations were nothing to Bellatrix's curses. But a bond had formed between us - we had both broken the mould and we both felt like we already had a friend in our house before I even sat down happily next to you at the table.

Our friendship endured the years; in fact I can confidently say that you are... sorry, were, the greatest friend I have ever known. You excelled in all things academic, and everyone knew you were destined for great things. Yet although you studied extremely hard, you were never a swottish, teacher's pet type. You simply wanted the best from life - you were always incurably ambitious - I would say ruthlessly so, were I talking of a less kind and caring person. You knew how to have fun though. Raucous gatherings were just your thing. I remember a group of about six of us sitting up in the common room one night playing all sorts of card games you had picked up from somewhere... starting off playing for Sickles, then when everyone was out of money, moving onto the bottles of mead that someone (I suspect you, although I never found out for sure) had stashed under their bed. You were a prefect by this time, so it hardly mattered that we could get caught, and the evening became more and more lively until we collapsed, sleepy and giggling at around 4am, to the tune of Fabian singing "A Cauldron Full of Love" in a ridiculous falsetto as he swayed around the room.

Yes, you were what would probably be known by Nymphadora's friends as a party animal... but I must paint a fair picture. It was all what you might call good clean fun'. The image you gave to the world at large was often one of ballsy defiance, yet I never knew anyone else who completed their homework on time for every single lesson they ever attended at Hogwarts, and who showed the professors such genuine respect. I suppose that was it - you were genuine. Nobody could ever accuse you of pretences. You were conscientious as it is possible to be, yet you also knew how to let your hair down. You had a gutsy, unconcerned attitude to many things in life, yet your more serious, caring side often shone through. You were the fairest person I ever met, and you couldn't bear to see innocent people in distress. I suppose that was one reason I wrote to you when Sirius... well, you know... at the end of the first war...
The fact that you worked for the Ministry by then, too, of course. I had hoped you could help - I couldn't bear to believe that he was capable of such atrocities. Indeed, I didn't believe it until I received your return owl. I remember the words as though etched into my soul:

'Dear Mrs Tonks,
Upon excruciatingly close examination of the case in question, and having heard the evidence of several of our most highly-respected Aurors, the Ministry of Magic has no doubt whatsoever that Mr Sirius Black is guilty of all charges and shall be punished accordingly in a manner befitting of a Death Eater. Should you have any further information on this or any other dangerous criminal, please remember that it is your duty to inform the Ministry immediately, and that not doing so may result in a restriction on use of magic, a heavy fine, or for the most serious offenders, a short jail term. These are still dark times and every wizard and witch has a responsibility for the safety of the community in which we live.

A. Bones
Order of Merlin, Third Class
Deputy Head of the Inquisitorial Squad.'

I know you did your best to investigate for me. I know, because even though the Ministry made you send that stupid, cold, standard letter ('Personal Communications from secure locations may compromise our defences' being one of the many slogans of the time), you added one word across the bottom of the page in miniscule lettering quite unlike your usual scrawl; 'Fearless'.

Fearless: Friendship Enduring All Remonstration, Lasting Ever Stronger Still. Our secret saying. We invented it when we were about 12 and going through a phase of wanting to be codebreakers. We wanted our own code that nobody else could understand. I remember we were really stumped on the "R"; I wanted to have "Rage" and you preferred "Resistance", but neither of them really sounded right. So, hopelessly thorough students that we were, we pored over the R section of the dictionary until we found a better word that we both agreed upon. It sounds ridiculously daft now, to my better-educated ears, but I have fond memories of that time, and the fact that you added it to the letter even when we were 28 years old, illustrated clearly just how much you could tell I was hurting and just how much effort you had put into trying to pick a hole in the case against Sirius. If you were telling me he was guilty, he must be; and I resigned myself to believing it.

You loved your work, and you excelled in it. I think you would have excelled in almost anything you could have chosen as a career, actually- but you were suited to life at the Ministry. Even before Gids was wrenched from you, you had a promising path ahead of you, but following his death, it became yet even more apparent. When you returned to work after the funeral, you had changed somehow. You had always been confident and ballsy, but a new streak had become noticeable in your personality. You laughed less, and you became sterner. I had never imagined you as stern before, yet with your heavy-set brow and thatch of grey hair, not to mention that ghastly eyeglass you insisted on wearing, it was the word that was most often applied to you in the wizarding press. Not that they weren't good articles, mind you- you never lost your acute sense of fairness, and you were widely appreciated across the wizarding community for that. But you were never quite the same person following your loss- not a worse person in any way, and still my dear friend Amelia at heart, but you were different, and I believe it was this aura of power and severity that helped to propel you to the heights you reached.

And so, after Gideon Prewitt... you never loved again. I don't know whether it was a conscious choice or not, but I suspect he was still too much a part of you. To love another would not be to hurt his memory, but to actually hurt him - somehow you never let him leave you. And I believe you enjoyed the fiercely independent life you led - you were passionate about your work and equally so about your private time. You enjoyed taking yourself off on a whim for a tour of the Scottish Highlands, or staying up late drinking strong port and reading those huge dusty tomes about the History of Magic that the rest of us couldn't wait to be rid of after our O.W.L.s. You liked to garden, but in a rough, manly sort of way. Pansies and daffodils weren't your style - you preferred rugged trees, clumps of dark foliage, and carefully supervised areas that appeared to have been left to grow beautifully wild. I've lost count of the times you rapped on our door wearing those horrendous tweed robes and carrying your knarled walking staff, having been for a bracing Saturday walk over the moors (that must have brought you at least 15 miles to our house) and fancying dropping by for a cup of tea before apparating back. You always loved my cakes. You had a sweet tooth and enjoyed anything from cinder toffee to chocolate fudge cake - but you were never so unsophisticated as to indulge. Usually the fruit cake and mints would be preceded by a hearty steak or a juicy pork chop whenever I was invited for dinner - although of course your house-elf must have been talented, because you were useless in the kitchen! (Not that there was much else you were useless at!) Outwardly, you lived for yourself and by your own inclinations, yet I strongly believe that in your own mind you were still guided by Gideon, still living a life he would have enjoyed and approved of. You did what you wanted and you took no nonsense... but you were never self-indulgent. You never let yourself go, and you never stopped enjoying life.

I can hear your bracing, hearty voice inviting me over for dinner and a natter over wine, I can see your splendid Tawny owl Travis darting in through the back door with a birthday card or simply a note telling me a joke you had heard or recounting an amusing event at the Ministry. We never needed an excuse to contact each other, and I cannot bring myself to believe that Travis will never swoop by again.

I know now, why you never grieved for your beloved Gids, because to grieve; to overcome the obstacle of death; would have meant that it was alright... that life could be normal with him gone. I understand now. I do not think I will cry for you Amelia, I do not think I will allow the twisted knot in my chest to untangle and give me air to breathe. Not just yet, anyway. I will take the silvery potion that is now almost ready, that will seal in my mind forever all of my memories of you, as clearly as they are to me at this moment. They will never fade, and I will never forget you. And in time, hopefully, this feeling of despair will lift, and I will be able to replay them over and over and smile.


And now, Amelia, my dearest friend, I find I cannot say goodbye to you. So I won't. I will simply say, with love,

Andromeda.



Just a note to readers... I have marked this topic as containing only spoilers to chapter one. Please think before replying and do not spoil anything for people who may not yet have read the whole book. Thank you.

[LaLaLuna]

Oh Nicola, what a great tribute to Amelia! If it weren't for knowing she was writing this letter, I could see Andromeda standing before her friend's grave spilling her memories to the wind.

This was incredibly touching (told you it had me tearing up in places). I loved the reference to their time in Hogwarts wanting to become Codebreakers.

This was simply wonderful and it's great to see you back in the world of fanfiction!

Hanna

[PaulaMcG]

I'm proud of you- or I'd better say you should be proud, as a passing mention of an event and of a character at the beginning of HBP inspired a story like this in you. You must stop saying that you don't put original ideas in fanfic. This is all completely yours. You have developed the characters and lives of two women who are merely mentioned by JKR.

I especially liked the parts in which you made the two schoolgirls, the young bride and and the middle-aged lady alive. It must be a hard task to really make alive someone whom JKR has killed carelessly (and I can't resist saying it's a funny coincidence that I happened to do the same in my chapter one in September 2003). Still, I think you could actually make several short stories with vivid concrete scenes, or chaptered fics about younger or older Amelia and Andromeda out of this. This is somehow a summary – an abstract. The fact that we know how the story will end doesn't have to stop you from writing about all the phases in more detail (just like there are stories about the young Marauders written when we knew how one – and later how two – of the four men died).

Isn't it wonderful that JKR can't write and include everything in the HP books. She's is most unlikely to ever say more about Amelia. And at least for two more years you'll be the best expert on Andromeda, as far as I know.

[Nicola]

Thank you, Hanna and Eija, for your lovely replies.

Hanna - I know I sound mean, but I am always kind of secretly triumphant when you tell me I made you cry - hehe! I must sound really mean, but I take it as a sign that I have succeeded in writing the way I intended to, so it's a compliment really! I chose the letter format for this fic as it is something that both my mum and I find is a good way to help you to come to terms with your feelings. She tends to write letters to people close to her expressing her feelings when something upsetting has happened, and I have been known to write letters to people who have died, simply as a way of getting it out of my system. I thought here it would be a good excuse for writing down Andromeda's feelings - but I do love your graveside idea as well! Thanks as always for reading and responding! You know it means a heck of a lot to me.

Eija -Thank you for your praise. You have made me think, but yes, you are quite right that this fic is very original. I am only just starting to realise that I do put original ideas into my fics, because if I have a good idea that is completely my own, I always make sure I keep it well away from my fanfiction - otherwise I would never have any chance of ever writing anything original! I suppose what I must mean is that everything in my fics is directly inspired by the Harry Potter books. The problem with that is, I have now been writing for 2 years, and the web of people and events in my head has grown so enormously that I can consider something to be inspired by canon even if I have to virtually create the characters myself. They are the characters I saw in my mind whilst reading the books, and I have to stop and remind myself that not everybody has the same vision, and that in fact, these characters are largely my own creation. I am a little worried that this will be an unpopular fic due to the complete obscurity of the characters (I seem to be becoming progressively more obscure!) but to be honest the forums are pretty dead at the moment anyway...
You are right about Amelia and her death in your fic. I am convinced Jo stole great chunks of HBP from writers on this site - I had already been amazed at the similarities between Greyback and Ice-Stare - but had forgotten she stole your death scene too!
Maybe I will write some Andromeda and Amelia stories one day, but for the moment my mind is brimming over with Tonks stories, and I can't get them down on paper quickly enough. We shall see.
And I do agree with you that it is surprisingly nice to realise that Jo will probably never mention Amelia again... it reminds me of something a friend once said to me. We had been good friends in Japan, and she was probably the only person I have ever actually met who was as obsessive as me about HP and fanfiction. On my last night in Japan, I said goodbye to her, and we promised that no matter how poor we were at keeping in contact, we would be in touch for books 6 and 7. Then I had a kind of a "and then...?" moment... one of those scary times when you realise that HP will in fact come to an end pretty soon... and her response was to say, very firmly, "....and then, there will be fanfiction!" But it's true. No matter what Jo does or doesn't write, it is such a warming thought to know that we can go on playing with at least the minor characters for as long as we like. And I'm pretty sure Andromeda will have to make an appearance in book 7 - I hope she does anyway! But don't worry, 2 years is plenty long enough to get her out of my system!

[*Liliana*]

FINALLY I snuck in some time to read amidst all this mess in my life (helping my parents move). Yay.

Gah, Nicola, you have just affirmed my belief that you are one of the best writers on the Snitch. And I'm certainly not exaggerating, in case you're saying to yourself right now, "How sweet, but yeah right" !

Your words have a way of speaking for more than they say, if that makes any sense. As I read further and further into this remarkably touching story, I found myself believing that I knew Amelia as well as Andromeda certainly does, and actually wishing that she was alive still! I had never paid much attention to her, so the fact that you can bring so much life to Amelia's death is really well done! I teared up at several places too, especially when Andromeda was talking about the little things Amelia liked to do, like eating sweets or gardening. It's the little things you miss when you lose someone.

Your theme of "not forgetting" a loved one's death is so fitting. It truly fits in to the idea of endless friendship. Excellent work.

[Wolf]

Hehehe... finally finished HBP yesterday night... so I guess I can read this without fear of spoiling my fun. And I have been wanting to read this fic for a while, trust me on that.

This was very, very well written. You completely made me feel the friendship that Andromeda and Amelia have shared and sometimes, I had the feeling I was re-reading a letter that I would have written to a close friend of mine.

I loved the parts where Andromeda describes the good times that she and Amelia shared, telling them in a way in this letter as if it would in any case come to Amelia in the end.

Again, this was a very nice short fic and very moving too.

[Nicola]

Wow, two more replies...


Lils, thanks so much for stopping by, especially when you are so busy!

Gah, Nicola, you have just affirmed my belief that you are one of the best writers on the Snitch.

Yeah, right.

And I'm certainly not exaggerating, in case you're saying to yourself right now, "How sweet, but yeah right" !

Oooooops!

That is high praise coming from anyone, especially such a talented writer as yourself! Thank you! I feel a real fiendish glee when someone says they teared up whilst reading... it shows I did my job properly. But I'm sorry... here, have a tissue!

As for your comments re not forgetting someone who had died, I decided the story needed a theme, and in the end decided that could be it - especially if the wizarding world had a potion that could seal memories as clear as the day they were experienced, without needing a penseive each time you wanted to relive them.

Thanks so much for the wonderful words of encouragement - it means so much to me!



And Wolf (can I call you Sylvain?), a new reader! Yeah! I love getting new readers, although it doesn't happen very often! Thank you for taking the time to stop by and read and comment. I have been intending to take a look at your own fics for a while - they are recommended by Eija, so they must be good! I will pop by soon, I promise.

Thank you for your lovely comments. I am truly flattered you thought this was so well-written, and I am pleased you were able to feel close to the characters. I know it sounds strange, but somehow writing letters to dead people has always seemed to me like a way of actually telling them how I feel... and if I had an owl to carry the letter off into the unknown, I think I would feel even more strongly that somehow it could reach them. It's a way of getting the feelings out anyway.

Glad you enjoyed it!