As Remus has his experience, Tonks has hers...
Tonks smiles up at the figure at the hàng đầu, đầu trang of her fountain. It's a dancer, slender, elegant, and graceful; Tonks laughs because the dancer's face and hair resemble hers, and she is none of those things. She watches a butterfly, ghostly white and fragile, alight on a dry patch on the rim of the fountain. "Wotcher, flutterby," she says softly, then laughs when the tiny thing flits up and lands on her shoulder. It's there for only a một giây hoặc two, just long enough to uncoil its tongue, then coil it up again. She barely has time to smile at it and then...
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