Back in the hills of Wales stood a carefully crafted tombstone under the shade of a fully grown yew tree that had once been a powerful wand. It read only a name and a phrase in welsh, Rhaid i'r sioe fynd ymlaen, fy annwyl.
The show must go on, my dear.
And that was just like him, to leave such a message to all the living. To his one and only remaining link to them.
And so, though all knew the great Gwydion Tonks was dead (as it had been years since the day that stone had been laid in the ground, yet to home moss of such a green) the show did indeed go on.
On a stage before hundreds, a woman cloaked in an array of red and black not entirely considered appropriate, least for her, sauntered into view with her arms spread wide. Upon her head sat a worn hat, a top hat to be precise, with its deep crimson ribbon tied seriously in a perfect line around the bottom of the black fabric. Yet she was anything but serious save for the meticulous nature of everything she wore, created, and maintained. For, above all, a goofy smile fueled by the euphoria of the people staring up at her spread across her cheeks.
With a dramatic stomp of her heeled boot, a thin cane slid seamlessly from her sleeve to rest on the wood of the flooring with a small tap as its compact charm fell away. She was quick to grip it upright, white gloved hand wrapped around the handle. Applause came like music to her ears.
She called to the crowd with that British lilt they found so enchanting, "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to my show!" Her fingers came to lightly grip the rim of her hat as she bowed low, extending it before her with something flashing white in its depths. Her smile shone when she straightened. "I'm Rhian, your magician, and I hope you enjoy!"
And from her hat burst a great cloud of fluttering wings to the cheers and gasps of her muggle audience as the doves flew to the sky.
The show was just beginning.
꧁☁︎꧂
A woman reflected back at her in the mirror with the chattering's of her patrons echoing backstage. Clear skin, straight nose, glistening deep brown locks. It was annoying. So she withdrew her wand, dark hazel gaze becoming stagnant in concentration, and after a steady incantation, her nose bent as if it had been broken much too often, her hair dulled, and old acne scars gained a sheen as they were revealed to the world alongside who she really was. It was much better this way.
Panacea Tonks could feel gravity's insistent tug on her bones after such a long day, the pull of exhaustion begging for a break as it always did. However, if Rhian the magician was anything, it was not tired. So the disguise that had become a necessity as a working woman, especially in her profession in that day and age to withhold to certain standards, had to go. And now the oldest Tonks child sat alone in a room of wood, the vanity she was using, and nothing more. Only dust that clung to the corners as they did to her thoughts. And the only colour came from the curtains that peeked from the corners where they blocked the audience's view of the stage of anything and everything, shining in colour under such dim lighting.
Panacea took a breath and stood, stepping further into that dark and grabbing her hat with the buzzing of her mind finally fading alongside their cheers. Not much felt more right than being on that stage doing what she loved, but one that did was this moment. The coming home to her family. The one that burst relief to a life never so real.
Sure, she may not have had any special someone nor any blood that cared anything for her left on this earth, but she didn't need any of that. The only thing she needed was this moment after the show returning to a home that had been hers and her father's for the full entirety of their lives. She stopped before another door of wood and shoved her gloves into her coat pockets to grip the cool metal doorknob, feeling it warm for a split second as she hung that hat with its perfectly tied bow on a hook nailed into the wood with Rhian's scarlet and midnight jacket beside it on another. Then she let it swing open.
Before her did not lay the closet it was a mere moment ago, what it looked to be from any unsuspecting eye. Instead it was her home, the part of it that resided back in Wales and the very part of it she visited every night whether she be in Paris, London, or even somewhere in America. It was the home she carried wherever her travels took her; the home of her many friends and family.
Her father's spirit lived within its walls thrumming in ancient magic, and that would always make it a home to her.
Panacea ventured further into the space grand and regal in its history despite the peeling of paint placed long before her father was born. Sunlight and moonlight alike filtered in through the cracks beneath the doors of all shapes, sizes, colours, and patterns that lined the walls. Whereas everything else in the space looked to be a brush of wind from falling to pieces, the doors were one of the very few that remained firm. After all, with what she had specifically brought in to accommodate for her living arrangement, they had only been added a good ten or fifteen years before. By her, the very witch wandering under the archways.
Not to mention the faded posters and memorabilia of green and silver lining the walls by her bed. Along with the very green nature of the bed itself and nearly every object of clothing to be found draped messily on everything nearby. Her partiality to the colour was something loud and apparent.
Tanned fingers brushed past the desk that sat by a specific door. They were soft, yes, but not so much they could be considered delicate with all she worked with. She kept moving past to that very door and its colour of a wonderful white with the faintest of green vines indented, weaving in and out of sight - one of her favourites actually - and on the ground shone sun and shadows. Considering this of all the doors could have been considered the least dangerous, Panacea had no hesitation when she let it swing open to cast sun and shadows onto the floor. They coincided beautifully.
Inside what looked to be a normal room could only be really described as a small forest. Trees upon swaying trees in a magically conjured wind placed about with flashes of movement in the branches stood burrowed in fresh dirt and vibrant green grass. It had been nothing the good old undetectable extendable charm couldn't manage, even if the feat itself had proved rather exhausting. And so, the artificial sun shone and the trees waved in greeting to their creator. Her fingers itched to return the greeting in the breeze blowing her hair back.
Moments later, much like how she had opened the show, a flurry of fluttering wings burst from the leaves, brushing past on all sides in a great cloud of white.
She smiled with chapped lips and spun on her heel to watch her doves fly around the room. But one in particular, she knew her by the name of Lucia, returned to her side, hovering about with small chirps. Panacea smiled once more, gave her soft feathers a pat when she landed briefly on her shoulder, and moved on to the other doors scattered in the large curve of the room itself. Behind her, various animals known to dwell in such forests continued to spill from the first room—er, habitat.
One by one, doors of all different characteristics were opened and, one by one all the same, came spilling animals of every possible animal kingdom. And when she said every possible kingdom, she meant every possible animal kingdom.
The rabbits hopped with the crowned frogs. Doves preened with all the other birds, even their one obvious oddity which was a dove with the head of a pigeon they called Deity, with various scraps of cloth surrounding their huddle. Monkeys played a little hide and seek with the constantly multiplying and teleporting ants in their fur. Even the one elephant that called this place home, and Panacea was rather thankful for that regretfully, stood in the corner chasing the fish in their bubbles of suspended water with her trunk; she really did worry the memories would become too much for her one day. Along with the worry that the frogs would have another crisis day. It had not been pretty the first time around, and she had even had to cancel the show for a day.
All of them and those still behind closed doors, believe it or not, were her family.
Sure, she was certain they were the main reason as to the sudden spike in the ancient space's deterioration, but with all those other soul-numbing things she could be doing with her life hanging over her head even after leaving the halls of Hogwarts, she wouldn't dare change a thing. Besides, humans were strange, horrible creatures. To say she had never much cared for any company apart from her own, her father's, and the many animals she had met through her life would be a bit of an understatement.
It was only natural, of course, that humans would think themselves so great when she only thought her whole species rather overrated.
Not only on their own but especially when considered beside all those that they had trampled to reign over, all those wonderful animals they had forced into extinction and all those beautiful creatures they had abused for their own curiosity. Many of whom she considered family, actually, were victims of these situations taken in by the only one who would.
After making the rounds; checking on Deity for neck pain, Daisy the elephant for a quick hug (she did love her hugs, and that went both ways it seemed), various water bubbles, and summoning a missing crown, Panacea rested a hand to support her on her father's old desk and ducked her head to read the papers strewn about. She left them there that morning to read after another move and show. So there she was, reading paperwork, letters, promises of being burned at the stake (no need to worry, she knew the appropriate charms to avoid such a thing) and the such, when she found the one she had awaited for weeks on end.
Abandoning all others that called for her attention, she scrambled to scoop up the crisp letter that had been delivered by owl that morning, a crest firmly laid upon its seal of none other than the Ministry of Magic.
Something bloomed in her chest that quickly wrapped itself around her heart and lungs much like a boa constrictor she had encountered years before; he had just been a little too eager when he finally found someone who could sympathize with all he had gone through. It only further tightened its hold when, on the cream coloured envelope itself, the sender proclaimed themselves to be none other than the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. She ripped into that envelope faster than a magically enhanced roadrunner napping in one of the rooms, tearing away the paper with no care to the state of it, and nearly shredded it to pieces.
But of course all this ceased when she had finished reading the crisp letter, each letter typed firmly, shortly, and to the point. It remained no longer, crumpling into nothing under the force of her fingers into a shaking fist.
How dare they?
She had been working tirelessly almost her entire life to make this a possibility and, without even a single glance to all she had gathered, they had tossed her away.
It truly showed how little they loved to concern themselves with anything muggle related. Anything outside their own magical little circles. And no doubt their own conceited pride as to the harm witches and wizards couldn't possibly cause played a hand in it.
Panacea hated the lot of them, conceited and unconcerned as they were.
But she read the letter again, searching desperately so to find any hint that they would even consider what she had asked. To consider what she had worked her whole life to prove.
It read:
Dear Miss Panacea Nymphadora Tonks,
We have received your letter requesting your creatures, those of non-magical origin affected in different ways and degrees by the magic community, to be considered in our department and are sorry to inform you that we cannot. Upon further review revealed that you did not, in fact, complete your full seven years of schooling at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as you had dropped out mid seventh the year 1914 and the profession dealing in muggles in such a way you have chosen, we as an official Department in the Ministry of Magic decided it would be best to keep our goings separate from any connection were these complications to come to light.
We do wish you luck and hope you understand. Have a wonderful rest of your day.
Signed the head of department, Huxley Desdemona.
It was official, Panacea hated - for hated was a perfectly strong word - this Huxley Desdemona.
She hated especially how they barely even went into the reasoning she had explicitly listed on allowing her animals to be protected and managed like all others, instead choosing to focus on her every fault. To them she was too irresponsible for dropping out of Hogwarts, especially not even four months after another student, a young male only a year below her (Something Salamander, she didn't really have too good a memory), experienced a rather dramatic expulsion. It was much to the protest of Professor Dumbledore, no doubt, whereas that very teacher, or any of them really, had held no true qualms to her wishes as if that only worsened the nature of the event.
To them, she was a risk to the statute of secrecy which, she knew, she was to some extent considering she teetered on a very thin line, but that didn't mean they had to exclude her creatures from the safety they deserved. The safety that she alone tried so very hard to but could not guarantee.
But no matter, she didn't need their bloody help nor their daft politics. She would continue as she was alone, perfectly fine with it and without a soul to assist. It had been her father's dream for her to carry up this profession in his stead and it had been hers to do so. So this was what she would continue on with until she grew old, grey, and an ancient legend in the minds of muggles where she was appreciated for who she made herself out to be: perfect.
Where they refused to offer their support or even make it available, she would do everything in her power to make up for it. She alone would keep her every animal safe. She alone would continue to provide them, and all others she may find, a happy home. That was all she strove to accomplish now with the ambition she had been born; giving them jobs in her acts - purposes and things to do in life, comfortable grounds much like their old habitats, and those that cared supporting them always, no matter what they did or were.
After all, family was family. Even if they happened to be animals beyond humans in so many ways.
And Panacea would never allow anything, or anyone, to take hers from her.
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This first chapter and quite a few are a little... outdated in terms of my writing style, but I hope you still like them! I'm honestly too lazy to think of completely rewriting them. Anywho
See you next chapter!