Saturday, July 21 :: Afternoon
Not too long ago Tonks wanted more than anything to get into this room. She wasn't a stickler for order or anything, but the state of Wilson's office went past a bit mussed into an outright detriment to anything they wanted to do.
He'd even had charms put on so the paper-airplane memos she sent never made it to him; they flew off to who knew where.
Nothing to keep her out of the supervisor's office now, though.
Tonks had made a couple of borderline-insubordinate comments this morning when Kingsley, who'd come up from London himself to direct the aftermath of last night's debacle, had suggested she go home and get some sleep after the initial interview were over.
It felt like the war again: an hour, maybe two, of potion-assisted sleep, another draught to wake up and get back on the job to patrol for stray Inferi and then start tackling the paperwork. Left you kind of jittery and insubstantial feeling, like if you didn't pay attention your skin would just slide right off and poof, nothing'd be there any more.
This wasn't the war any more, though, just a temporary situation, and in a couple of days the Auror Station'd be sorted out and all the potions'd be out of her system and everything would be ... normal-ish.
Not everyone got to say that. Not now, and not back then.
Tonks had been reading some of Wilson's old incident reports — the man had, at one time, been the sort of Auror anyone'd be proud to serve along side of. Then had come the attack on Hogsmeade.
He'd never recovered after that, apparently.
He should've been retired at a full pension long ago. Or the psych evals should have caught that he was likely to be unstable in a combat situation.
Tonks felt about two inches high as she reshelved the heavy books, now clear of a thick layer of dust.
She hadn't thought to even consider that Wilson might need help. For crying out loud, he'd been an Auror, one who'd given his Oath back when getting accepted still meant something. After the war the need for warm bodies in the ranks had necessitated some loosening of the requirements, but not back then.
She should have seen that.
'Course, he should have sought help, too. And speaking of seeking help ...
She looked out into the hallway and spotted Remus saying good-bye to Kingsley.
There was a lot of "should have" to go around.