“How did you do that?” said Harry, gaping at her as she opened her eyes again.
“I’m a Metamorphmagus,” she said, looking back at her reflection and turning her head so that she could see her hair from all directions. “It means I can change my appearance at will,” she added, spotting Harry’s puzzled expression in the mirror behind her. “I was born one. I got top marks in Concealment and Disguise during Auror training without any study at all, it was great.”
“You’re an Auror?” said Harry, impressed. Being a Dark wizard catcher was the only career he’d ever considered after Hogwarts.
“Yeah,” said Tonks, looking proud. “Kingsley is as well; he’s a bit higher up than I am, though. I only qualified a year ago. Nearly failed on Stealth and Tracking, I’m dead clumsy, did you hear me break that plate when we arrived downstairs?”
“Can you learn how to be a Metamorphmagus?” Harry asked her, straightening up, completely forgetting about packing.
Tonks chuckled.
“Bet you wouldn’t mind hiding that scar sometimes, eh?”
Her eyes found the lightning-shaped scar on Harry’s forehead.
“No, I wouldn’t mind,” Harry mumbled, turning away. He did not like people staring at his scar.
“Well, you’ll have to learn the hard way, I’m afraid,” said Tonks. “Metamorphmagi are really rare, they’re born, not made. Most wizards need to use a wand or potions to change their appearance. . . . But we’ve got to get going, Harry, we’re supposed to be packing,” she added guiltily, looking around at all the mess on the floor.
“Oh — yeah,” said Harry, grabbing up a few more books.
“Don’t be stupid, it’ll be much quicker if I — pack!” cried Tonks, waving her wand in a long, sweeping movement over the floor.
Books, clothes, telescope, and scales all soared into the air and flew pell-mell into the trunk.
“It’s not very neat,” said Tonks, walking over to the trunk and looking down at the jumble inside. “My mum’s got this knack of getting stuff to fit itself in neatly — she even gets the socks to fold themselves — but I’ve never mastered how she does it — it’s a kind of flick —”
She flicked her wand hopefully; one of Harry’s socks gave a feeble sort of wiggle and flopped back on top of the mess within.
“Ah, well,” said Tonks, slamming the trunk’s lid shut, “at least it’s all in. That could do with a bit of cleaning, too — Scourgify —” She pointed her wand at Hedwig’s cage; a few feathers and droppings vanished. “Well, that’s a bit better — I’ve never quite got the hang of these sort of householdy spells. Right — got everything? Cauldron? Broom? Wow! A Firebolt?”
Her eyes widened as they fell on the broomstick in Harry’s right hand. It was his pride and joy, a gift from Sirius, an international standard broomstick.
“And I’m still riding a Comet Two Sixty,” said Tonks enviously. “Ah well . . . wand still in your jeans? Both buttocks still on? Okay, let’s go. Locomotor Trunk.”
Harry’s trunk rose a few inches into the air. Holding her wand like a conductor’s baton, Tonks made it hover across the room and out of the door ahead of them, Hedwig’s cage in her left hand. Harry followed her down the stairs carrying his broomstick.
Back in the kitchen, Moody had replaced his eye, which was spinning so fast after its cleaning it made Harry feel sick. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Sturgis Podmore were examining the microwave and Hestia Jones was laughing at a potato peeler she had come across while rummaging in the drawers. Lupin was sealing a letter addressed to the Dursleys.
“Excellent,” said Lupin, looking up as Tonks and Harry entered. “We’ve got about a minute, I think. We should probably get out into the garden so we’re ready. Harry, I’ve left a letter telling your aunt and uncle not to worry —”
“They won’t,” said Harry.
“That you’re safe —”
“That’ll just depress them.”
“— and you’ll see them next summer.”
“Do I have to?”
Lupin smiled but made no answer.
“Come here, boy,” said Moody gruffly, beckoning Harry toward him with his wand. “I need to Disillusion you.”
“You need to what?” said Harry nervously.
“Disillusionment Charm,” said Moody, raising his wand. “Lupin says you’ve got an Invisibility Cloak, but it won’t stay on while we’re flying; this’ll disguise you better. Here you go —”
He rapped Harry hard on the top of the head and Harry felt a curious sensation as though Moody had just smashed an egg there; cold trickles seemed to be running down his body from the point the wand had struck.
“Nice one, Mad-Eye,” said Tonks appreciatively, staring at Harry’s midriff.
Harry looked down at his body, or rather, what had been his body, for it didn’t look anything like his anymore. It was not invisible; it had simply taken on the exact color and texture of the kitchen unit behind him. He seemed to have become a human chameleon.
“Come on,” said Moody, unlocking the back door with his wand.
They all stepped outside onto Uncle Vernon’s beautifully kept lawn.
“Clear night,” grunted Moody, his magical eye scanning the heavens. “Could’ve done with a bit more cloud cover. Right, you,” he barked at Harry, “we’re going to be flying in close formation. Tonks’ll be right in front of you, keep close on her tail. Lupin’ll be covering you from below. I’m going to be behind you. The rest’ll be circling us. We don’t break ranks for anything, got me? If one of us is killed —”
“Is that likely?” Harry asked apprehensively, but Moody ignored him.
“— the others keep flying, don’t stop, don’t break ranks. If they take out all of us and you survive, Harry, the rear guard are standing by to take over; keep flying east and they’ll join you.”