Summary: Three years after Voldemort’s first fall, Tonks and Ninette, a metamorphmagus and a dancer, each struggle to find their own identities apart from the deceptions of mirrors. Meanwhile, in the caves underneath Hogwarts, someone may be searching for things better left lost.
Categories: General Fics Characters: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: Series: None
Chapters: 10
Completed: No
Word count: 37788
Read: 31130
Published: 06/06/05
Updated: 06/29/07
1. The Mirror by Ennalee
2. Faces by Ennalee
3. Stone Walls Surrounding by Ennalee
4. Dancing Alone by Ennalee
5. Mice Will Play by Ennalee
6. Dreams of Spun Sugar by Ennalee
7. Voices in the Corridor by Ennalee
8. Purpurea and Peverells by Ennalee
9. The Mysterious Miss Rosier by Ennalee
10. Taking Tea in Greenhouse Four by Ennalee
They stood in a straight line in front of the mirror. Six girls; each had her hair pulled back from her face in the same bun; each placed her feet in the same position; each wore the same tight-fitting leotard, which showed off every different line in their bodies. Six girls in front of the mirror “ and the mirror was the judge of all.
The mirror had always been a part of Ninette’s life. She could remember back to when she was very young, far too young to understand, being fascinated by her own reflection. She would stare in amazement at this being other than herself, which so perfectly mimicked her every movement.
She could remember her mother as well, looking into the mirror and crying, crying until her beautiful face was red and blotchy. She remembered the day her mother threw the mirror against the wall, and laughed to see it lying shattered on the floor. “Seven years of bad luck,” their neighbor Janet had warned, but her mother had not cared. She had been denied her heart’s desire; luck meant nothing to her anymore.
After that, there were no mirrors in their house. And then came a time that was hard for Ninette to remember. She could hear her mother’s voice, screaming at her, blaming her; she could see Janet’s face with its kindly wrinkles and eyes that seemed to hold all the pity in the world; but everything else was blurry and unreal. It had been Janet who had taken care of her, who had told an uncomprehending child that it was time to leave, who had held her that whole long train ride from London to Leicester. It had been Janet who had given her one last, warm, tear-filled hug before leaving her at her aunt’s house.
Aunt Edris. Like Ninette’s mother, she had been a dancer. Unlike her younger sister, she had not made it out of the corps; she had always danced as part of a group, never as a soloist. Yet she had not been jealous; not for herself. She was fiercely protective of her sister “ determined that someone from their family would make it to the top. She had protected Cynthia with all that was in her; when Cynthia had failed, she took Ninette instead. So it was that Ninette was reintroduced into the world of mirrors, and began to dance.
She had come to Aunt Edris when she was six, and on the first day her aunt had led her in front of a floor length mirror and demanded that she stand up straight, that she hold her chin up. “How you stand will determine how people think of you,” she had said. “Do you want to be seen as a girl who slouches?”
From that day forth the mirror had become the ultimate judge “ save for her aunt.
In addition to teaching Ninette at home, her aunt had immediately begun sending her to Farrell’s, a nearby dancing school. Long before Ninette had begun to comprehend the move and her mother’s absence, Aunt Edris had her stretching and doing splits and training her body. “You will be a dancer someday,” her aunt proclaimed, smiling, after she had studied Ninette’s body for an hour, watching her move and stretch. “It’ll be your name that we see across the top of the theater.” Then the smile faded, and the harsh lines of her face came back into dominance. “But you must work. You must promise to work.”
Six-year-old Ninette, twice abandoned, promised.
Now, five years later, she was still living her promise. Her body was reflected in the floor length mirror, and she bent her knees and lowered her body, striving for the perfect plie. Around her, five other girls did the same.
“You must be more careful with your battement tendu,” warned Aunt Edris. “Your left leg was trembling “ you have to hold it steady.”
There was a window in the corner of the dance studio “ a two way mirror, from behind which parents and relations could watch their children dance. It was done so that the dancers could be observed without their knowledge, to alleviate anxiety. The children were not supposed to know when people were watching them. But Ninette always knew “ because her aunt always watched.
“Theresa should have mentioned it to you, but I suppose she was too busy watching Sylvia make a fool of herself,” continued her aunt. “I’m considering signing you up for an extra private lesson each week. It will be expensive, but I’ll manage. I don’t think you’re getting enough individual attention.”
They were walking back from Farrell’s. Ninette, holding her bag, had to struggle to keep up with her aunt’s quick stride. “Don’t bobble,” Aunt Edris had warned her, time and time again. “Walk smoothly, even when you are not dancing. A dancer must be graceful always, not just on the stage.” So Ninette stretched her aching calves, trying to make her steps quick and graceful whilst listening to the constant stream of criticism which flowed from her aunt’s mouth.
When they arrived home, Ninette was promptly sent upstairs to practice. When she had moved in, her aunt had redone the third bedroom as a private dance studio, complete with a sprung floor, a piano, a barre, and full-length mirrors. “So efficient,” Janet had said when she came to visit Ninette the first time. “She has it all planned out. Piano lessons, a grounding in gymnastics, ballet everyday, and a place to practice at home. What more could a niece ask?” All the same, her eyes were sad as she said it.
Today, however, Ninette was only halfway up the stairs when her aunt called her back.
Aunt Edris was holding a creamy envelope and a letter written in green ink. As Ninette returned, her aunt waved the letter at her. “Read this,” she commanded.
Dear Miss Fairchild,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry . . .
As she read “ the letter and the enclosed packet which gave her background on the Wizarding world “ she felt a sort of soaring sensation deep inside her. Here was the substance of fairytales, of her favorite ballets, of the legends she had always longed for. Magic did exist; pictures flew threw her mind, of giants and fairies and rainbows that led to gold, of animals that could talk and rings that could grant wishes, of turreted castles and flying carpets . . .
She looked at her aunt, and hope gave her daring. “Do you think I could “”
Miss Elwood looked surprised. “It’s out of the question. When would you dance?”
That settled the matter. Ninette turned around and went back upstairs to practice her battement tendu.
“That’s much improved,” Theresa encouraged, as Ninette stood panting from a series of leaps across the room. “Very good indeed.”
Ninette flushed in pleasure; Theresa did not often compliment her.
Now her instructor looked at her thoughtfully. “Your aunt told me that you are not going to audition for the Royal Ballet School. Did she tell you why?”
Ninette shook her head.
Theresa pursed her lips. “She told me that she wants you to have more individual support and that they’ve lowered their standards and lost the good teachers.” She paused for a moment, and then continued. “I disagree. I think a boarding school would be very good for you.”
Some indefinable expression in her teacher’s face encouraged Ninette to speak. “I got a letter “ last week “ from another boarding school.”
If Theresa had not been interested, it might have ended right there. But Theresa was interested. “Yes?” she said.
“It had a funny name. Hogwarts, I think. But there would be no way to dance.” She paused, then went on. “Aunt Edris says she may take me out of school and do my lessons at home, so I’d have more time to dance.”
An odd expression crossed Theresa’s face. The last thing Ninette needed was more time with her aunt. “Would you like that?” she asked.
Ninette shrugged and looked at the floor. And something clicked in Theresa’s mind.
“Hogwarts,” she mused with a frown “ not an angry frown, but a thinking one. “I’ve heard of Hogwarts before.” Suddenly her face brightened. “Cécile Dubois. Cécile Dubois mentioned it once. Some sort of special school, she said. Of course! It was Cécile Dubois. She stopped teaching years ago “ said she had had enough of students . . . but I think . . .” Theresa stopped and looked right at Ninette. “She will make an exception for you.”
As they left the school that day, Aunt Edris was wearing a rare look of confusion. “Cécile Dubois,” she mused. “Cécile Dubois “ think about that, Ninette. How many girls your age have the chance to study with her? Of course, we’ll have to make further arrangements to make sure you have enough time to practice. And you won’t be able to take piano “ but you can practice that on your own, and you’ll have Cécile Dubois for your dancing. There might be a few setbacks, but you’ll get chances that the other girls would never dream of. Cécile Dubois! You’ll be principle in the Royal Ballet before you’re twenty.” As they walked down the street, she lifted her chin in determination and pleasure. “We’ll buy your supplies tomorrow.”
It was Ninette who found the Leaky Cauldron. After her aunt had led her past it three times and was turning to walk down the street again, she tentatively pointed it out.
“Could that be it?” she suggested hesitantly.
Her aunt stared at the small, dingy building Ninette had indicated. “So it is,” Aunt Edris acknowledged, wrinkling her nose in distaste. “Small wonder that we missed it “ it doesn’t look very respectable.” With the air of one making a sacrifice, she lifted up her head, took Ninette by the hand, and led her inside.
Small and dark, the pub was almost empty. A bald man holding a dishcloth was leaning on the counter, in conversation with grubby looking man smoking a pipe at one of the tables.
They stopped talked as Ninette and her aunt sailed in. Pulling Ninette along with her, Miss Elwood sailed past the man with a pipe, and stopped in front of the man by the counter. Looking over her shoulder, Ninette saw that the man with the pipe was staring at her through a noxious-smelling cloud of smoke. Blushing, she dropped her head immediately, and turned away to watch her aunt announce that a letter had informed them to come here in order to buy her supplies.
The man behind the counter flashed them a grin, revealing widely spaced brown teeth. Ninette thought it rather a nice smile despite the dental peculiarities, but she felt, rather than saw, her aunt recoil.
“You’ve come to the right place,” he said. “I’m Tom, barkeeper of the Leaky Cauldron. One moment, and I’ll take you over to Diagon Alley.” He walked over to the man with the pipe, and whispered something to him. Ninette noticed uncomfortably that the latter was still watching her. As Tom muttered to him, he smirked at her and finally looked away.
Straightening, Tom lead the way to the back door; Aunt Edris followed him, and Ninette followed her. When he reached it, however, he stopped and looked back over his shoulder. “Don’t forget,” he warned the seated man.
The man snorted and mumbled something incoherent. With a roll of his eyes, Tom walked outside. Pulling a stick out of his pocket, he tapped a brick three times; immediately a hole appeared in the wall, growing larger as it spiraled outward. Smiling at Ninette’s astonished expression, he gestured through the opening. “Diagon Alley,” he announced, and retreated back into the bar.
Aunt Edris’ face was as impassive as ever “ she considered it ill-bred to show surprise. Ninette, on the other hand, could not help but turn her head every which way, trying to see the things around her. It was different than anything she had ever seen; more like something from the Arabian Nights than real life. The people around them were dressed in brightly covered robes, and the wares displayed in front of the shops were not clothing and electronics, but cauldrons and telescopes and strange-looking bottles of potion . . .
“Ninette! Stop that!” Chastened by her aunt’s rebuke, Ninette turned away from the tantalizing sights and followed her down the crowded street. Seeming supremely unaware of all that was going on around her, Aunt Edris strode through the multitudes of people without a sideways glance. She seemed as confident and sure as if she had known the place all her life. Ninette followed behind, trying her hardest not to bobble.
“Stand still!” At her aunt’s peremptory command, Ninette stopped in mid-scratch and let her hand fall back to her side. “In Sleeping Beauty, the dancers have to stand completely motionless for all the time it takes Prince Florimund to make his way through the castle and find Aurora. How will you ever get anywhere if you can’t stand still for three minutes?” She turned back to Madam Malkin, who was measuring Ninette for robes. “We’ll take three.”
Careful not to turn her head, Ninette tried to watch the stout little proprietress out of the corner of her eye, but failed when the lady bustled around behind her. She resigned herself to listening.
“Three’s the usual number,” agreed the store owner. “Would you like a set of dress robes? I have some here that are just the color for her; she’s such a beautiful little thing “ they’ll look ravishing.”
Although Ninette could not see her aunt, she could imagine the critical look that Miss Elwood always gave whenever someone commented on her niece’s appearance. “Your face isn’t what matters,” she had said over and over again. “A pretty face is helpful in the end, but it won’t get you where you want to go.” Now she gave an impatient sigh and spoke. “Three black robes are fine. She won’t have any time for dress robes. She needs to focus on her training; if she focuses now, there will be plenty of opportunities to dress up when she’s older.”
As they left the store, Aunt Edris looked at her niece’s neat skirt and sighed. “These robes are so encompassing,” she remarked. “They’ll disguise your body; it would be easy for you to gain weight without noticing. You’ll have to be careful; you don’t pay enough attention to what you eat.” She brightened as a thought struck her. “But they’ll save you time; you can wear a leotard underneath, so you won’t waste time changing back and forth.”
The weeks before September 1st flew by, taken up as they were by dancing. Aunt Edris had her practicing even more than usual. “What would you do,” she asked often, “if Cécile Dubois doesn’t think you are good enough and won’t teach you? Theresa made it clear that she is already making you an exception by taking you on. You must be good enough to be kept.”
Now it was all over. Grasping the papers which told them how to get through to Platform 9 ¾, Aunt Edris advanced towards the barrier, pulling Ninette and her trunk behind. She put out a hand to test the barrier “ it was as solid and firm as it looked.
For once, Ninette saw a fleeting look of helplessness pass over her aunt’s face before it disappeared under her customary expression. Seizing Ninette’s hand, she pushed it forward. It went through the barrier as if it had been air.
Her lips tightened. “Well then,” she said, “You’ll have to go on by yourself.” She thrust the trunk towards her niece. “Now, remember what I’ve told you. I’m handing you a great amount of responsibility by sending you off alone. Don’t get distracted; that’s one reason I didn’t want you to go to a boarding school “ you’re very distractible. Dancing comes first, before your schoolwork or your friends. Listen to what Cécile Dubois tells you. You’re getting the chance of a lifetime here “ don’t waste it.
“Write me twice a week telling me what you’re doing, and tell me if you need anything. Cécile Dubois promised to take care of your shoes; I’ve heard she’s very particular about shoes. There should be enough leotards to get you through until Christmas break “ unless you grow a lot or gain weight.” She gave her niece a stern glance. “Be very careful about what you eat. Nothing that’s high in fat, and limit your portions. Your body is all you have “ take care of it. Lose it and your future disappears.”
She paused and stared at the barrier “ Ninette knew that she wanted nothing more than to escort her all the way. “Well, what are you waiting for?” her aunt demanded at last. “Go on. Have a nice year, and practice hard. I expect to see significant improvement by Christmas.”
Ninette glanced up at her aunt’s stern face. “Goodbye,” she whispered, and stepped through the barrier holding her head high “ just the way her aunt had taught her.
“Do you really think that one’s the best, dear?” The mirror sounded skeptical. With good reason, the young girl thought.
The face reflected in the mirror ought to have been beautiful. The girl’s fluffy hair was blond, curling nicely around her shoulders. Her nose was pretty and perky, with a slight rise at the end. The red mouth was full and curvy, and the teeth were straight and gleaming white. Her eyebrows, several shades darker than her hair, arched piquantly above long-lashed blue eyes. Each feature was classic, copied carefully from the copy of Witch Weekly that was sitting on the dresser within easy reach. Yet somehow, the overall effect was rather absurd.
“What’s wrong with it?” she wailed.
The mirror assumed a placating voice. “Do you think the eyelashes are perhaps a trifle too long?”
Snatching up the magazine, the girl compared her eyelashes with the model on the cover. “Long eyelashes are a sign of beauty!”
“It’s possible to have too much of a good thing,” commented the mirror dryly.
The girl sighed, and peered closely into the mirror. Her eyelashes were nearly a centimeter long, and very dark. “Maybe you’re right,” she conceded.
“You might lighten them a bit while you’re at it,” the mirror suggested.
With a sigh, she closed her eyes and concentrated on her eyelashes. They receded back to their usual light brown ambiguity. Opening her eyes again, she looked despondently into the mirror. “They’re so boring!” she complained. “And when they’re long and dark, they make my eyes look better.”
“I do think the eyes could use some improvement,” admitted the mirror.
“I can’t do eyes,” the girl replied with a grimace. “I’ve never been able to. They’re the hardest part.”
“Of course they are. The eyes are the window to the soul,” the mirror said poetically.
“Oh, be quiet.” Leaning forward she tried again. The eyes changed from their previous insipid watery blue to a ludicrous bluish-purple.
“That would be a very nice shade for a dress,” the mirror commented helpfully.
Bluish-purple changed to a violent and unrealistic shade of turquoise, which was in turn replaced by a sickening puce.
“You know,” remarked the mirror conversationally, “I really did like your eyes they way they’ve always been.”
“Bland and boring?”
“They’re very pretty eyes.”
“They’re brown.” She screwed up her face and changed again.
“Brown is better than mustard. They’re getting worse and worse, dear.”
She gave up, and returned her eyes to their normal state. It improved things, but not much. “I look awful,” she moaned.
“Perhaps it’s the eyebrows.”
“They took me ages! They look just like Calista Belphoebe’s,” she exclaimed in anguish.
“Exactly. They’re very nice on a grown witch. You’re an eleven-year-old girl.”
Making a face, she changed her eyebrows back. “Eyebrows gone, eyes gone, lashes gone,” she lamented dramatically. “What next?”
“How about the mouth, dear?”
Her face a picture of defeat, she returned her mouth to its usual form.
The mirror let out a sigh of relief. “Much improved. That made worlds of difference. Now just one more thing “”
“I’m not changing the nose. I like this nose.” She was prepared to fight as long as was necessary.
“I wasn’t going to mention your nose. It’s a very nice nose. You’ve always been talented with noses.”
“Thank you,” she answered with a surprised grin. She contemplated her nose lovingly for a few moments, and then her pleasure melted away and was replaced by trepidation. “If it’s not the nose, what is it?”
“The hair, dear.”
“The hair? What’s wrong with the hair? It’s blond, isn’t it?” she cried defensively.
“It doesn’t flatter you. You don’t have to be blond to be beautiful, you know.”
“Yes, you do,” she replied morosely.
“Fine then.” The mirror sounded annoyed. “Don’t listen to my advice. I’m only your mirror. I’ve only coached you on your appearance since you were five. I know nothing about beauty. I “”
She changed her hair back to its usual light brown.
“Much better,” remarked the mirror, sounding ridiculously pleased with itself. “Try curling the ends . . . yes, that’s nice “ maybe just a little more . . . stop! That’s perfect. You look very nice.”
She surveyed herself discontentedly. “I look just like I did before I started.”
“No, no, you changed your nose, and did your hair very nicely, and your mouth is a little different.”
“I’m not ravishingly beautiful.”
“Few eleven-year-olds are.”
“But I want to be! I want people to notice me!”
The mirror laughed. “They’ll notice you. Anyway, if you come up with any brilliant ideas, you can always change once you get there.”
She shook her head gloomily. “Dad said he thought it’d be better if I didn’t change too much at school. He said it’d be too hard on my teachers and friends if they could never tell what I was going to look like.” Her face brightened. “Anyway, if I don’t let people know I’m a metamorphmagus, then I can use it without them knowing. Just think of all the tricks I can play.”
The mirror sighed. “I prefer not to imagine what outrageous looks you’ll put on yourself without me to watch out for you.”
She gave her mirror a fond glance, caught the eye of her reflection, and paused. “What about green? D’you think I’d look good with green eyes?”
Before she could launch into her next experiment, her father’s voice called her from downstairs. “Nymphadora,” he bellowed. “It’s time to leave! Stop fussing with your face, and come down.”
She sighed. Knowing her father, it was probably past time to leave, but at the moment she didn’t mind. Suddenly, when it came down to it, she decided that she really did not want to go to Hogwarts; she would be much more comfortable staying in her own room. She looked around; it was a very nice room, although at the moment it was quite bare. Her walls “ usually covered with posters “ were bare, and all her knickknacks and trinkets had been packed into her trunk. Still, she could put them back up . . .
“Nora “”
Looking up, she saw her father standing in the door.
“You aren’t having second thoughts, are you?” he asked.
She nodded. “Dad, what if . . .”
“What if is meaningless,” he interrupted. “Wait and find out what happens.” She looked at him helplessly, and he laughed. “You’re going to be late.”
“I know.”
“Your mother won’t be happy.” His face grew more serious. “She’ll be worried that you’ll miss the train. Come, we’ll talk on the way. Let’s not give her anything more to worry about.” He pulled her up and led her to the door.
She turned. “Bye,” she said to the mirror, as bravely as she could.
“Goodbye, dear.”
Saying goodbye to her mother was difficult, but she tried to sound lighthearted; she didn’t want to add to her mother’s worries. She could tell that her mother was trying to be brave as well, which made it worse; she hated to be the cause of that white line around her mother’s lips.
She and her father flooed into Diagon Alley, and took the Underground to King’s Cross. Her father was Muggleborn, and was therefore used to traveling this way; she, on the other hand, found it a novelty, and enjoyed every minute. He kept her amused with stories from his own first year at Hogwarts; he had known nothing about the wizarding world, and had rather bumbled through the whole year.
They dashed through the barrier five minutes before the train left; most of the other students were already on. After putting her trunk onto the train, her father hugged her. “I hope you have a great year, Nora. Do well “ but don’t work too hard; make sure you leave some time for having fun.”
“I will,” she answered, hugging him back.
“I love you, darling,” he whispered.
“I love you too, Dad,” she replied.
He caught her in one last big hug that lifted her feet from the ground. The whistle blew; laughing, he tossed her on as the train began to move. “Goodbye, Nora!” he called. “Good luck!”
Nymphadora watched until he was out of sight, and then walked down the corridor looking for a compartment. She was relieved to be hailed by Madeleine Grunsby, a second year whom she had known for some years, and spent the train ride laughing and eating with a bunch of second year Ravenclaws.
----
As the first years followed Professor McGonagall into the Great Hall, Nymphadora tugged her hair anxiously. She was here at last “ she had been looking forward to this moment ever since
she could remember. Now she was petrified.
Looking around, she was relieved to see that she was not the only frightened one. The girl next to her was twisting her hands, while a tall brown-haired boy was tapping his foot repeatedly. Another girl, a petite blond, was playing convulsively with her earrings. They all looked very nervous. Nymphadora pulled her hand out of her hair, and tried to look as if she knew exactly what she was doing.
Then the Sorting Hat began to sing.
“When I was young and newly made,
And still had all my thread,
Good Gryffindor did care for me “
And wore me on his head.
Together with companions three
We traveled all about,
Each friend did have a different goal
To fulfill on our route.
Wise Ravenclaw, she sought to gather
Knowledge where e’er she went;
And to her home she brought dusty tomes
For the teaching to augment.
Avid Slytherin, he spent his time
Among castles and great halls;
Seeking to bring greatness back
To Hogwart’s lofty walls.
Brave Gryffindor, he started out
To bring aid to those in need,
And vowed to train his students
To continue this sort of deed.
Sweet Hufflepuff, she searched for all
The poor and the oppressed
To help them and to see if she
Could keep Hogwarts at it’s best.
Now I am older and more wise,
And getting rather bare,
Still it’s my job to sort you out
By which founder’s traits you share.
Whether you for knowledge thirst
Or yearn for greatness true,
If you are brave or seek to save,
I’ll know just what to do.
So come on forward and try me on,
For though I’m old I’ll see
Which founder you take after
And in which house you’ll be.”
Everyone clapped. Nymphadora, who had been told just what to expect, was amused to see some of the other first years looking shocked.
Then Professor McGonagall stepped forward, and her amusement changed to trepidation.
“Anielli, Guido.” A handsome, swarthy boy made his way forward from the back of the first years, and placed the hat on his head. Save for whisperings from the four tables, the hall was silent. “Ravenclaw,” called the hat, and Guido walked to the Ravenclaw table amidst cheers and shouts.
“Berridge, Josephine.” A dark haired girl detached herself from the crowd, and was sorted into Hufflepuff. The Hufflepuff table burst into applause.
A frightening thought hit Nymphadora. What if whatever house she was sorted into did not want her? She was not very interesting to look at; what if no one clapped? She wouldn’t be called until the end; what if everyone was too bored to notice her? To take her mind of her fear, Nymphadora began watching the people around her again. The foot-tapping boy near her had doubled his pace, and the hand-twisting girl had begun to bite her nails.
“Donnally, Kevin.” A sandy haired boy tried on the hat and became the first new Gryffindor.
“Dunford, Jonathon.” The tall brown-haired boy was placed into Slytherin. She watched him advance towards the Slytherin table, and wondered if all the rumors she had heard about Slytherins were true. Jonathon did not look mean or crafty. But then her attention was caught by the sorting once more.
The girl who had just stepped forward in response to McGonagall’s call was the girl Nymphadora had tried to create in the mirror that morning, or would have had she thought of it. She was not gorgeous in the manner of the models Nymphadora had always emulated; her features were not the type that would be found in a fashion magazine. Nevertheless, there was something distinctive about her, something that would make her stand out wherever she went.
She was tall and very thin, with a gangly sort of grace that belied her sharp elbows. Her hair, at least, was truly beautiful; it was a shade of golden-red that Nymphadora had never imagined, never thought to try out on herself. Gathered into a half-ponytail, it cascaded down her shoulders in a fountain of smooth waves, bright against her dark robes. She held her chin up as she walked gracefully forward and delicately sat upon the stool. Every move that she made was poised and dainty, and yet somehow she didn’t look the least bit affected; on her, it seemed natural and innate. If I walked like that, Nymphadora thought mournfully, I’d just look stupid.
Caught up in envy, Nymphadora was startled when the hat called out, “Gryffindor.” She watched as the girl made her way gracefully to the Gryffindor table and chose a seat at the very end, slightly separated from everyone else.
Nymphadora tore her eyes away and returned to watching the sorting.
“Farradey, Daniel.” Ravenclaw.
“Fletcher, Janet.” Slytherin.
“Holt, Marianne.” The earring pulling girl stepped forward and was sorted into Gryffindor.
She lost track of the names for a while, worrying about her fate. What if she was put in Slytherin? What if her new house laughed at her? What if they booed her? Suddenly she snapped back into reality. She had no idea how many people had been sorted. What if she had missed her name?
“Peale, Amelia.”
Sighing in relief, she chastised herself for not paying attention and watched closely as Amelia was sorted into Hufflepuff.
Names and faces blurred together in her anxiety. Slytherin, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff . . . any minute now she would find out.
“Tonks, Nymphadora.”
Although she had been anticipating that the next name would be hers for the past five minutes, she still jumped when her name was called. She strode across the floor, trying to look confident “ and tripped over the stool and went crashing to the ground on top of it.
The school erupted into laughter. Her face burning, she scrambled up before Professor McGonagall could help her, and thrust the hat onto her head.
“Nymphadora Tonks,” said the hat, sounding faintly amused. “That was quite a spill you took.” Her blush had started to recede, but at the hat’s words it flared up again. “Don’t be embarrassed; the school is always ready for a laugh. Now I still remember the time when Godric himself mistook a floral decoration for an elaborate cake . . . and once Dumbledore let his beard fall into his soup and then stood up and gave a speech . . . but I mustn’t get sidetracked.
“Nymphadora Tonks. What have we here? You want to be beautiful, you want to do great things, and you want people to notice you “ yet you are afraid of being the center of attention. You love learning “ but only things that interest you. You’re kind and compassionate “ when you remember. You’ll risk your life for those you love “ but you’re afraid of small things like embarrassment. Where to put you?
“Ravenclaw? I think not. You don’t love learning as an end in itself. Hufflepuff? You’re kind and loyal, yes, but you tend to be thoughtless.
“Slytherin? Oh yes, you’re ambitious “ but your goals are not primary in your life. And you have no cunning. You display yourself to all who care to look; you trust people. Keep trusting, Nymphadora Tonks. Not Slytherin.
“Gryffindor? You’re afraid, yes I can see that “ but you have courage. Courage in the big things.
“Laughter is not all meant to hurt. Remember that. When Godric found himself taking a bite of peonies “ he laughed.” Nymphadora found herself smiling at the picture. “Yes, you have the capacity to laugh. I think you will find courage to face small things as well, Nymphadora Tonks.”
“Gryffindor!” the hat shouted. The table erupted in cheers.
Nymphadora took of the hat and put it back on the stool. Grinning widely in relief she began walking to the Gryffindor table “ and tripped over her feet again. For the second time, the hall burst into laughter.
Again, she could feel all the blood rushing to her face as she picked herself up. Completely mortified, she looked towards the high table. Dumbledore caught her eye and winked. Still blushing, Nymphadora looked back at him and smiled.
She chose a seat at the end of the table, separated from an older boy by an empty seat, and across from the girl she had noticed before. She was even lovelier and more distinctive up close. Her cheekbones were high enough that her thin face seemed almost exotic, and her eyes were impossibly dark blue. She was staring at the Sorting; she did not look up as Nymphadora sat down. Nymphadora used the time to study the other girl’s face.
As a metamorphmagus, Nymphadora had always been interested in faces, and had become much more observant than the average person. She was constantly pulling people’s faces apart and looking for features which she herself could emulate. However, this girl had some special poise that lent distinction to her features, which, except for her eyes, did not seem remarkable in themselves.
Feeling hopelessly outdone, Nymphadora leaned forward and caught the girl’s attention. Flashing her most confident smile, she spoke. “Wotcher! I’m sorry, but I missed your name.”
The girl gave her a slight, serious smile. “I’m Ninette. Ninette Fairchild.”
Nymphadora felt a surge of envy. Even the girl’s name was beautiful. Not like Nymphadora. Who had ever heard of a more absurd name than Nymphadora? Ninette was unusual, but pretty. Nymphadora was just unusual and absurd.
After a long pause, “You’re Nymphadora Tonks?” the girl asked softly.
Nymphadora took a big breath. She had been planning this moment for years. At home, her mother insisted on calling her Nymphadora. Her father called her Nora only when they were alone. Otherwise she was Nymphadora all the time, and she hated it. Now, she was here alone, and could choose her own name.
“Tonks,” she said firmly. “I’m Tonks.”
The two girls watched the rest of the Sorting in silence. As the last few names were called, Tonks began having trouble paying attention “ she could not wait to eat.
“Unwin, Helen.” The hand twisting girl walked forward and was sorted into Slytherin.
“Weasley, Charles.”
“Gryffindor.”
The boy two seats away from Tonks leapt into the air cheering. The freckled redhead who had just been sorted walked briskly to the end of the table and threw himself into the empty seat between Tonks and the older boy.
“Made it, Bill!” he announced with a grin, as Herman Wintringham was sorted into Ravenclaw.
“I knew you would,” Bill said proudly, though he looked relieved as well as pleased. “You’re a Weasley, aren’t you?”
Just then, Dumbledore called for silence and announced the beginning of the meal. Tonks stopped listening to the conversation next to her as the table was suddenly covered with food.
Suddenly she felt ravenous; the snacks on the train seemed a long time ago. The food both smelled and looked wonderful. The tables were practically groaning with it. Meats and breads and puddings and pies . . . it was an overwhelming sight.
She helped herself liberally to Yorkshire pudding and a Cornish pastry, along with a piece of shepherd’s pie. She was reaching for a warm roll when her hand bumped into the hand of the boy next to her, also in the breadbasket.
Jerking her hand back, she knocked over his glass of pumpkin juice into his lap. “I’m sorry,” she exclaimed, face burning with embarrassment. How many times is it possible to embarrass yourself in a single hour? she wondered.
“Don’t worry about it,” he replied with a grin as he mopped himself up with his napkin. “I’m Charlie. You’re Ny-”
“I’m Tonks,” she interrupted. Gesturing to the girl across from her, who was watching them silently she added, “and this is Ninette.”
“Nice to meet you,” he said, looking first at her and then at Ninette. His gaze lingered on Ninette for a moment, and again Tonks felt a wisp of envy. I wish I was beautiful.
There was an awkward silence, broken after a few moments by Charlie. “Can you pass me that black pudding?” he asked, gesturing.
Tonks complied, taking a large spoonful for herself on the way. She dug into her full plate with gusto, savoring every bite. “Isn’t the food here delicious?” she asked through a mouthful to no one in particular.
Nodding fervently, Charlie agreed. Tonks turned to Ninette. “D’you like it?”
“It’s very good,” Ninette replied in her soft voice. Tonks looked down and noticed with chagrin that Ninette’s dinner looked very different than her own. In contrast to her own heaping plate, Ninette’s mostly consisted of a spinach salad, along with a roll and a piece of chicken. She was eating very neatly, holding her fork delicately and taking small bites.
Suddenly Tonks felt oafish and uncultured. Hastily she swallowed her large mouthful, and looked ruefully down at her jumble of assorted food, all mixed together on her plate. How could she ever hope to compare with the beauty and manners of the girl sitting across from her? She couldn’t just put the food back “ she wouldn’t have even if she could. Despite her shame, the food looked tantalizing, and she was hungry. With mixed feelings, she began to eat.
She had barely finished her plateful when Charlie offered Ninette and herself some apple pie.
“No thank you,” murmured Ninette.
“Are you sure?” demanded Charlie, looking incredulous. “It’s really good, I already tried a piece.”
She cast down her eyes and shook her head.
“You’ll have one, won’t you Tonks?” Charlie appealed. “I guarantee you’ll like it.”
With a glance at the red-gold head across from her, she grinned and took the proffered slice. Perhaps being beautiful wasn’t everything “ Ninette did not seem to be having very much fun.
When, thoroughly satiated, the first years were led up to their dormitories, Tonks was to overwhelmed and full and sleepy to notice much of what was going on around her. As she stumbled into her new room, she was only aware of four large four-poster beds. She barely could keep her eyes open long enough to change into her pajamas and burrow under the covers of her bed.
However, once she was settled in, she woke up just enough to notice a slight figure with red-gold hair moving around the room gracefully long after all the others were in bed.
Stone Walls Surrounding by Ennalee
The sound of movement in the room woke Tonks from her deep sleep. Blinking blearily and rolling out of bed, she tripped over her shoes which she had left on the floor the night before, and went flying.
It took her several moments to orient herself; when she did, she found that Ninette was standing next to her neatly made bed, watching her.
“Er, wotcher,” Tonks said rather sheepishly, looking up from her landing spot on the floor.
“Good morning,” Ninette answered coolly. As Tonks scrambled up, she noticed in annoyance that Ninette was already dressed, and her hair was done up in a tidy and becoming bun. Obviously she had been unpacking; her trunk was open, and only a few things remained neatly folded in the bottom. Picking up a pile of silky looking black shirts, Ninette walked past her and to the wardrobe they would be sharing. Exactly half of it was filled with carefully hung clothes.
As Tonks watched, Ninette opened one of the drawers at the bottom, and placed the stack of shirts within. How many shirts does one person need? Tonks wondered, thinking of her own rather meager supply of Muggle clothing.
Striding over to her own trunk, which her mother had packed for her, Tonks dug into it until she found a robe. She grabbed it, and entered the washroom to shower and change.
When she came back, Ninette was gone. The other two girls were both still in bed; Tonks could not remember either of their names. Pausing in the door, she looked at the side of the room which she and Ninette shared. It presents almost as great a contrast as we do ourselves, she thought rather bitterly.
Her own section was in complete disarray. The bed was a mess, with the covers hanging off at one side, and the sheets wrinkled. Her shoes and robes from the day before lay discarded on the floor. She had not yet started unpacking; her trunk was open, and various items of clothing were scattered around it “ they must have fallen out when she had been searching for her robes.
On the other hand, Ninette’s section was in perfect order. The bed was made without a wrinkle, the trunk properly closed at the foot. On her night-table she had arranged a clock and several books; other than that, everything was bare. Looking around guiltily, Tonks pulled open one of the drawers. It was in as perfect order as the rest of the area. Face cream, a tin of hairpins sorted according to their size, a fingernail clipper, a container labeled foot balm, and a small bag.
Hairpins? Tonks wondered. Foot balm? What type of person uses hairpins and foot balm? Curiously, Tonks opened the bag, only to jump back in dismay as a small yellow cloud of dust rose from it and scattered on the floor. Hastily, she retied the bag and shoved it back into the drawer. She bent down and tried to scoop up the yellow dust that she had left on the floor; it was rather sticky, and hard to clean up, but she did her best. When she was done, she didn’t think anyone would notice it. At least, not if they didn’t look too closely at the floor.
She did not open the second drawer, but instead was drawn to a piece of paper hanging on the wall. It was handwritten, in the neatest handwriting she had ever seen. Thinking resentfully that it wasn’t fair for one girl to be so perfect, she leaned forward to make out the cursive.
It was an intricately planned time schedule for her day, starting at five thirty and finishing at nine. Tonks stared at it for a while, wondering if this girl was as impossible as she seemed. She was even scheduled to shower twice a day.
Shaking her head in incomprehension, Tonks went down into the common room. It was seven o’clock, and she did not know what to do with herself. She was a morning person, and liked to wake up early, but at home there were always a plethora of activities waiting.
No one else was in the common room, but the fire was burning; she curled up in one of the armchairs in front of it, and tried to write a letter to her parents.
Twenty minutes later, she had decided that she really was not a letter writing sort of person. She could not think of how to describe the day’s events; all she had was an empty parchment and a large ink-stain on her robe.
People had begun to trickle into the common room, but she did not see anyone she knew. Feeling out of place, she gave up on her letter for the time being, and went back into her dormitory.
The other two girls had awoken at last. One “ whom Tonks recognized as the earring-pulling girl “ was putting on her shoes. The other, a plump dark-haired girl, was still lying on her bed, looking sleepy.
“Hello,” said Tonks, bounding in. “I didn’t have a chance to meet you last night. I’m Tonks.” She realized happily that it was getting easier to give only her surname each time.
“Tonks what?” asked the dark-haired girl.
“Just Tonks,” she answered bravely.
“I’m Marianne Holt,” said the earring girl with a smile.
“Justine Nolan,” declared the dark-haired girl.
“D’you know what time it is?” asked Marianne. “We just woke up, and everyone else was gone “ I was really afraid we were late.”
“It’s seven-thirty, I think,” replied Tonks. “Classes start at nine, so we should go down to breakfast sometime between eight and eight thirty.”
“I told you we didn’t have to worry,” drawled Justine. Turning to Tonks she explained, “Marianne had no sense of time; she always thinks she’s late.” She added as an afterthought, “She usually is, when I’m not around.”
“Have you known each other for a while, then?” asked Tonks, suddenly feeling like an intruder.
“Years,” said Justine.
“We’ve always known each other,” Marianne expanded. “Justine’s and my mother were friends when they were in school. I can’t wait to tell them that we’re in Gryffindor together too!” Finishing with her shoes she gave a stretch, and leaned back onto her bed. “D’you know who the other girl is?” she demanded, gesturing at Ninette’s empty bed.
“Her name’s Ninette Fairchild,” Tonks remarked, pleased to be able to give them information.
“Muggleborn?” asked Justine.
“I didn’t ask,” replied Tonks defensively, hoping that Justine wasn’t a pureblood fanatic. “Why?”
“No reason,” Justine assured pleasantly. “I just wondered “ I didn’t recognize her name.”
Marianne got off her bed, and wandered over to Ninette’s section of the room. “She’s very clean,” she remarked. “Is she that really pretty one with the long hair?”
Tonks nodded.
“The blond one?” Justine demanded. “I didn’t think she was that pretty; the way she walked looked rather affected.”
Marianne shrugged affably. “I didn’t look at her very closely “ I was too busy being nervous.”
“You’re always nervous,” Justine scoffed.
Giggling, Marianne replied, “Well, I made it into Gryffindor “ I can’t be that bad.” She sent her friend a teasing glance. “You’d better start getting ready, or you’ll be late.”
“I’m never late,” Justine responded derisively but with a smile. “And I never get up before eight o’clock; I wouldn’t be awake now if you hadn’t kept on poking me and asking me what time it was and if you were late.”
“I was worried,” Marianne defended herself. “Anyway, it’s eight; you should get up.”
“I have plenty of time,” Justine defended; she stayed in bed for another minute, as if to prove her point, and then slowly and leisurely stood up and stretched.
As Justine foraged in her trunk for her robes, the door opened and Ninette came in. She was not as neat as she had been that morning; she looked hot and sweaty, and yet somehow she managed to seem as dainty as ever. All three girls paused and looked up at her as she came in, and she paused in the door, seeming surprised by their presence.
“Hello,” she said softly, her face remaining expressionless.
“You must be Ninette,” said Justine grandly. “We were just talking about you. I’m Justine Nolan, and this,” she gestured, “is Marianne Holt. I take it that you already know Tonks.” She seemed to have a little bit of trouble pronouncing the surname only; Tonks found herself giggling inside, though she kept an outwardly straight face.
Silent, Ninette nodded. “Nice to meet you,” she said, in what was barely more than a whisper. She looked tired; her face shone with sweat, and her hair was escaping from her bun in slightly damp ringlets. With a slight nod, she dropped her eyes to the ground and slipped past them into the washroom. A minute later they the water running.
“Well,” said Justine with raised eyebrows. “She didn’t seem to want to talk to us, did she?”
“Maybe she’s shy,” proposed Marianne.
“Maybe she thinks we’re not good enough for her,” responded Justine. “I don’t understand how someone can look that haughty with her hair a mess and sweat running down her face.” She dismissed Ninette with a wave of her hand. “Just let me get my robe on, and we’ll go down to breakfast.”
As it turned out, she did more than put her robe on; she had to wash her face and brush her hair, and deliberate over earrings; Tonks was about to go down without them when she finally announced that she was ready.
When they left the dormitory, Ninette came out behind them. Glancing backwards, Tonks saw that she looked as immaculate as she had done that morning. For a minute she considered calling the other girl to walk with them, but Justine’s almost inaudible sniff when she saw Ninette stopped her. Feeling a little “ but not very “ guilty, she went down to breakfast with Justine and Marianne.
The Great Hall was about halfway filled when they arrived; they chose seats in the middle of the Gryffindor table. Ninette walked up just as they sat down. Come on, she told herself, act like a Gryffindor. Avoiding Justine’s eye, Tonks gathered her courage and waved Ninette over. Justine looked a little put out, but said nothing, and Tonks felt a surge of pride; her father would have been pleased with her, risking her new friends to extend friendship to a lonely-looking girl.
However, Ninette just stared at the floor and proceeded to the far end of the table by herself.
Justine sniffed again, more noticeably. “She thinks she’s too good for us,” she announced. This time, feeling rejected and ill-used, Tonks was inclined to agree.
The first class of their first day of their first year was History of Magic with the Hufflepuffs.
Tonks sat with Justine and Marianne in the middle of the room; she felt rather like a tag-a-long, since they knew each other so well, but she stayed since she did not know anyone else.
When Professor Binns floated in through the wall, Tonks enjoyed the gasp that resounded throughout the room; her father had warned her that he was a ghost. However, he had not warned her of the utter boredom she was facing. Ten minutes into the class, Tonks was nearly frantic. Next to her, Justine and Marianne were scribbling back and forth on a piece of paper. The two boys in front of her had gone to sleep, and over to her left she could see Charlie Weasley and the boy next to him having a quiet but animated discussion about something or other.
Slouching back in her chair, she craned her neck in an attempt to see out of the window; unfortunately, all she could make out was a patch of blue sky. To her annoyance Ninette, who was sitting next to it, was not taking advantage of her position. With her back perfectly straight she was staring forward, a look of intense concentration on her face. Tonks wrinkled her nose in disgust. Why does she bother? Binns won’t notice whether or not she pays attention. Her show is all going to waste.
Giving up, she leaned forward and put her head down; she was asleep in five minutes.
Transfiguration was a completely different story. Despite her mother’s many efforts to teach her how to sew “ or perhaps because of them “ Tonks had always suffered from a severe dislike of needles. The lesson of the day was to turn matchstick into a needle; Tonks attributed her failure to her own subconscious wishes, for she much preferred matchsticks to needles. She did surpass most of the class by making it turn silver all over “ but try as she might she could not give it a hole or a point. Still, she reasoned, if she had managed the point she would have jabbed herself with it anyway “ so she didn’t much mind.
After lunch, the Gryffindors had Potions with the Ravenclaws; something that turned out to be a harrowing experience. Their teacher, Professor Snape, was young but formidable; by the end of the class Tonks was completely in awe of him.
To make things worse, he had them divide into pairs. Tonks turned to the two girls next to her; they were looking at each other and smiling. Marianne saw her watching them, and gave her an apologetic look. “Sorry, Tonks.” Looking around, Tonks found that she was too late “ everyone else seemed to already be partnered up. Everyone, that is, except for Ninette.
All in all, the class was a nightmare.
They were making boil cure potions, simple enough in themselves. Tonks had made her way over to Ninette as cheerily as possible, hoping to win her friendship this time around. However, Ninette stared down at her cauldron without a word.
If there was one thing Tonks hated, it was being ignored. She gathered the ingredients “ dried nettles, crushed snake fangs, stewed horned slugs, and porcupine quills “ with her jaw set angrily. It was an inopportune beginning for a soon-to-be disastrous class.
Ninette had measured the dried nettles, and given them to Tonks to put in; Tonks had tripped and spilled them on the floor. Ninette re-measured them and put them in herself. Tonks tried to be helpful by putting in the stewed horned slugs, since Ninette seemed leery of touching them “ only to find out that order was very important in potions, and that they were not supposed to be added until after the crushed snake fangs. They tried again; Tonks looked over her shoulder to see how Justine and Marianne were doing, and absentmindedly added more dried nettles instead of snake fangs, just as Ninette added the snake fangs herself. Ninette’s cauldron blew up, spattering them both with boiling liquid.
“I’m sorry,” Tonks wailed, as Snape loomed down over them, failed them, and sent them to the Hospital Wing to have their boils taken care of. Ninette’s cauldron was completely ruined, and she looked as if she did not understand what had just happened.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Ninette stiffly, although it clearly did. Tonks looked at her in dismay. Her normally smooth skin was covered in welts and boils from the splashed solution, the red streaks making a ludicrous contrast with her pearly complexion.
Not knowing what else to say, Tonks continued on in silence. Ninette walked quickly; she had to hurry to keep up. She felt ridiculous, skipping along at Ninette’s side like some sort of toy on a string. When the arrived at the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey promptly swooped down upon them, rather like a bird of prey.
“What could you possibly have done to yourself on the first day of school?” she exclaimed in amazement. “Potions class? How careless of you. Sit down, sit down. No “ don’t touch that!” The last was to Tonks, who was looking curiously at a shelf full of phials and potions. Jerking her hand away, she knocked one of the vials with her elbow. She closed her eyes and winced, waiting for the crash.
It did not come. Opening them, she saw Ninette crouching at her side, holding the vial. As she watched, Ninette straightened and returned it to its place.
“Thanks,” Tonks said breathlessly.
Ninette gave her a slight smile and then walked over and sat down on the bed to which Madam Pomfrey had directed her. Tonks followed.
In a minute or so, Madam Pomfrey was back; she smeared green paste all over the burns and boils on their faces. Tonks imagined that she looked ridiculous; even Ninette’s enigmatic countenance twitched a little when she glanced at her.
Over the next half an hour, in which Madam Pomfrey made them wait before cleansing their skin, Tonks tried to start several conversations. Ninette did not respond to any of them. She would answer Tonks’ questions with minimal words; she was never rude, but she clearly gave the message that she did not wish to talk.
By the time Madam Pomfrey removed the paste and said they could leave, class was over. Tonks could not wait to leave; she had rarely felt so uncomfortable in her life as she had during that stilted silence. She made one last friendly effort as they left. “Are you going back up to the common room?” she asked.
Ninette shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she replied, “I can’t right now.” As Tonks turned left from the Hospital Wing, Ninette turned right; Tonks watched her curiously until she was out of sight.
“You have to wait to add the fluxweed until after the nettles,” Ninette directed stiffly.
Tonks bit her lip in frustration, but stepped back from the cauldron. “You do it, then,” she snapped.
Things had gone from bad to worse in Potions; the two of them had been working together at least twice a week for the past month, and they could not get through a class without an argument. As hard as she tried, Tonks would inevitably make a mistake or knock something over; she had yet to see Ninette do the same. For the first week, Ninette had remained silent; when it became apparent that they were stuck working together, she had begun to speak up in hope of saving their potions.
She always made her reprimands quietly and tersely; somehow they bothered Tonks more than they would have had she shouted. Tonks would scowl and make a cutting retort; Ninette would freeze into cold disapproval. Tonks would challenge her to do it better; Ninette would.
What bothered Tonks the most was that no matter how she glowered and ranted, Ninette seemed completely oblivious to her anger. Even as Tonks felt her own face heat up in rage Ninette would become if anything more cool and composed. It was as if Tonks was not there, or did not matter. Which, of course, only fueled Tonks’ anger the more.
Now, Ninette moved forward and added the nettles. When she had finished she turned back to Tonks.
“You can put the fluxweed in now,” she said.
Thrusting it at her Tonks snarled, “Put it in yourself.”
She had hoped to elicit a reaction, but Ninette took the plant silently and dropped it in. The cauldron sizzled and fizzed, and turned a pretty shade of pale blue “ just as it was supposed to. Silently, Ninette filled a vial and took it up to Snape’s desk.
In general Tonks considered herself a fairly easy-going, even tempered person. Something about Ninette, however, grated her every nerve. The fact that their potion had come out perfectly just made it worse.
“Happy?” she asked as Ninette came back and sat down.
Ninette made a noncommittal gesture, her lips stiff.
When Snape came by and told them to clean up, Tonks was still scowling at her; she, on the other hand, was staring concentratedly off into space. They cleaned up their potion in silence; Tonks gave up glowering by the end, as it became apparent that Ninette was ignoring her existence.
The bell rang at last; Tonks latched on to Justine and Marianne, and went down to lunch.
“She told me I couldn’t, because it would ‘interrupt my studies,’” Marianne was complaining. “She’s so worried about ‘my studies’ “ honestly! She cares more about my studies than me. The way she goes on, you’d think I never worked.”
“Do you?” asked Justine, lifting her eyebrows.
“Of course!” Marianne was indignant. Then she giggled. “At least, some of the time. Oh, did I tell you about what happened yesterday? Well, I was walking down the Charms corridor . . .”
As the girls made their way through the crowd by the entrance to the Great Hall, Tonks found herself walking behind the other two. She felt enclosed by the castle walls “ as if she was being pressed into a space that was too small for her. She had never felt this way at home, in her small house. Here, despite the hugeness of the castle, the stone seemed to be closing in on her, and forcing her to be someone she was not. Forcing her towards the other girls “ but holding her apart at the same time. Somehow it always ended up this way; Justine and Marianne “ and Tonks straggling behind them.
They tried to include her “ when they remembered “ but Tonks spent a lot of the time feeling out of place. Marianne’s prattling bored her quickly, and Justine had a condescending glance that made her want to disappear into the floor. They were not the friends she had hoped to make when she came to Hogwarts. Yet she had no other choice.
Although she was acquainted with some of the girls from other houses, they did not see each other often enough for the kind of friendship Tonks wanted. The Gryffindor boys seemed caught up in their own little world; while she had become friendly with a few, namely Charlie Weasley and his friend Kevin Donnelly, they did not seem to be looking for a girl to join them. Unlike Ninette, Tonks needed friends. She craved companionship: conversations and jokes and support and admiration. So she tagged along with Justine and Marianne; she ate with them, sat with them in classes, and talked with them before bed.
Until they were paired up in a class. Those were the moments that she dreaded most. Justine and Marianne turned toward one another without a second thought, and Tonks was left to seek her own partner among the dregs of the other unwanted. Usually, she ended up with Ninette.
They battled their way through every lesson together. Tonks was loud, Ninette silent; Tonks careless and clumsy, Ninette graceful and precise; Tonks angry, Ninette removed.
Justine and Marianne sympathized with her after every class, but neither ever offered to be her partner.
Chapter Four: Dancing Alone
The first time that Ninette found herself dancing at Hogwarts, it was like moving into another world. Of course, the entire previous day had been another world, starting with Platform nine and three-quarters and continuing through the ride on the Hogwarts Express and finally Hogwarts itself “ but dancing was the greatest change, because it was the only thing which was remotely familiar. Familiar, yet at the same time it was completely different. For the first time since she was six, Aunt Edris was not around the corner, watching through the window, pen in hand, waiting with a list of corrections. For the first time in her life, she was not dancing for her aunt.
Yet, after the novelty of the first few days had worn off, she found that things were much the same. The surface had changed “ the people and the classes here were different “ but she was the same as she had always been, alone in class and dancing in all her spare time. And though her aunt was gone, the mirror was left, implacable and impossible to satisfy.
She had hoped, without even admitting it to herself, that she would find friends here. Her aunt had always told her that friends were unnecessary, even detrimental. “Anyone who does not dance is a distraction,” she had said. “Anyone who does is competition.” When Ninette had first started ballet classes, Aunt Edris never let her stay after to play and talk with the other girls; she took her home to practice. It had paid off “ in her aunt’s mind, at least. Ninette had soon been moved to a more advanced class; the girls here were older and had not been interested in the friendship of someone so much younger than themselves.
School had been no different. On the first day, Aunt Edris had informed the teacher that Ninette was not allowed to play on the playground, for fear of injuring her knees. The teacher, Miss Ellis, sought to be kind to the painfully shy little girl, and sat with her on the bench all through the breaks.
It had not taken long for the other children to catch on to this. “Teacher’s pet,” they taunted, whenever Miss Ellis was out of earshot. “Baby! Can’t play with the big kids!” As she got older, it got worse. Melissa Piper moved from London and joined her class, both in school and in ballet. Melissa was everything Ninette was not, and she led the girls in a new round of tormenting. “Ninny!” they would jeer. “Ninny, the baby ballerina! Isn’t she sweet?” Or, “Here comes Ninette the Marionette!” Then they would tug on her hair, pretending to pull her strings, and pinch her till she was left with bruises, taunting all the while, “Careful, mustn’t hurt precious little Ninny “ she doesn’t have a mother to take care of her, but she might tell her aunt on us!” Melissa made sure that even dancing was no longer safe. So Ninette hid, as she had always done, under a mask of silence.
She had hoped it might be different at Hogwarts. She had climbed onto the train with high hopes that she did not know existed until they were dashed. Arriving at the train early, as usual, she had sat in a compartment by herself. About half an hour later three boys had come in, and she had been too shy and too afraid to even look up. Boys had always frightened her beyond almost anything else. She knew nothing of them, living as she did with her aunt, attending an all-girls school and dancing ballet, where partners were hard to find.
These boys had talked, in their loud, rough, boy-talk, and she had been afraid. She stared at the floor, keeping her face as still as possible, pretending she was alone with her aunt. Then they had started talking to her. Harmless questions, at first “ who was she, where was she from, what year was she in? Hardly daring to raise her eyes, Ninette answered in a whisper.
That did it, for them “ she did not seem real, nothing more than a toy, so the next half-hour they amused themselves with her, throwing question after question, long after she had stopped answering. They were not trying to hurt her, merely using her as a prop to show off their masculinity to each other, but she did not know this and she was hurt.
“D’you have a boyfriend?”
“Have you ever been kissed?”
“D’you want to spend some time with me this afternoon?”
“ I’ll be your boyfriend!”
They interrupted each other constantly, and gales of laughter followed each question. Ninette withdrew farther and farther into her corner, staring steadfastly at the floor with an imperturbable countenance, wishing herself to disintegrate into nothingness.
They had grown tired of their game eventually, and moved back to the other side of the compartment to discuss other things, but she had not moved, not for that whole train ride. By the time they had arrived at school she had given up on friendship; she felt more alone than she had even at school on the worst days, for she had not even her aunt anymore.
People had spoken to her that first night, but pressured by her fear and her shyness, she enveloped herself in the iron cloak her aunt had bestowed upon her; a guard, which let nothing escape. Tonks smiled at her and seemed kind “ but Ninette did not know how to respond, any more than she had known how to answer the boys on the train. The confidence which seemed so natural in Tonks and the others was foreign to her nature when she was not dancing. She stuttered out her answers and fled from the others, and was not surprised when they began to avoid her. Justine was frankly contemptuous from the first, and Tonks soon lost her friendliness. She noticed the beseeching glances Tonks sent at the other girls when forced to be her partner, and she was glad she had not known the words to respond that first night.
She threw herself even more into her dancing.
Her new teacher was very different from what Ninette had expected. She knew all about her, of course “ Aunt Edris had taken care of that. At the age of nineteen, Cécile Dubois had become principle in the French Ballet; over the next three years she had become known through the world as one of the greatest living ballet dancers. She had danced practically every classical role imaginable, continuing as a principle dancer in her prime into her late thirties “ the world wondered at her stamina. Late in her career she fought with the director of the French Ballet, and defected to England to dance with the Royal Ballet in London. Even after she stopped dancing in the ballet, she continued as a teacher “ a private, selective teacher, choosing her students by hand. Nearly all of them went on to become dancers in their own right. She had retired from teaching fifteen years ago, though she still occasionally took a rising dancer under her wing. Theresa had promised that Ninette would be an exception.
Until Cécile Dubois actually joined her in the room that Dumbledore had allotted her for dancing, Ninette could not believe that she would actually come, that she would consider Ninette to be a fitting pupil. And when the famous dancer finally arrived (she was to floo into Dumbledore’s office before each lesson), Ninette was mortally afraid that she would turn around and floo back home as soon as she had seen her prospective student.
She did not. She smiled kindly and introduced herself, as if Ninette did not already know who she was nor her entire life’s history. “Ninette, chérie,” she greeted her, “I am Cécile Dubois, but you will please call me Madame, yes?” Ninette, of course, agreed. “Bien,” Madame continued. “Alors, we will start now. Show to me how it iz zat you dance.”
That first day Ninette danced for an hour without interruption “ Madame only spoke to tell her what combination to do next. She danced as well as she possibly could, determined to do her best for her new teacher, whom she wanted more than anything to keep. At the end Madame had her take off her shoes, and she herself stepped forward and took Ninette’s leg with her strong hands. She stretched Ninette’s legs upwards, seeing how high they could reach and how far they could turn out, pressing until Ninette almost “ but not quite “ gasped aloud in pain.
Finally she stepped back and stood looking at Ninette. Ninette dropped her head and stared at the ground, sure that she was about to be rejected. But Madame reached under her chin with two strong fingers and lifted it high. “You must stand like zis always,” she said sternly. “Show to ze people your long neck. You ‘ave a beautiful body for a dancer, but you must be careful. It iz not enough to ‘ave a body only “ you must use it. Alors, ma petite, let us go over zat chassé arabesque. You need to keep yourself centered “ over ze balls of your feet, like zis, you understand?”
She demonstrated, and Ninette found herself holding her breath to see this old lady dance with the beauty and strength of a young woman.
“Zere, can you do it like zat?”
Ninette tried. Though the mirror showed her that she did not have the old lady’s strength or extension, Madame seemed pleased. “Zere, you see? Eet was much better. Do not worry yourself about ze height of ze leg “ zat will come in time. You are a quick learner! Eh bien, but you must do it like zat all ze time! If you can do it like zat, why do you ever do it differently? It is much better zis way! Now keep it like zat, except you must support your arms from your back, not your shoulders “ like so!” And then the process would begin again.
With every lesson Madame seemed to show her new heights she might reach. Ninette became more determined than ever, both to please herself and to please Madame, for she began to care for Madame the way she had cared for only two others in all the time she could remember “ Janet and Theresa.
But Madame was strict “ stricter than Theresa, even more strict than Aunt Edris in her own way. A mistake, once corrected, was no longer excusable from that minute forth. They had returned to the basics, making sure that every movement was up to Madame’s standards, improving each until it was truly beautiful. Once Ninette had done a step, or even part of a step, the way Madame wanted it, she was expected to do it that way every time. While Ninette could feel herself improving and understanding more each lessons, she sometimes felt as if she could never catch up; every improvement she made was immediately followed with a new critique and a more difficult element to learn.
Madame, usually gentle, sometimes forgot that she was not coaching a grown dancer. “Non, non, not zat way!” she would exclaim. “How many times must I tell to you? “ you are holding your arms wrong, and you must bring your feet together “ like zis “ uzzerwise it looks terrible. Deed you hear? Terrible!
“You must improve zat! Concentrate! Learn it so zat you have no need to think about it. A danseur must be able to think of uzzer things, ze feeling, ze musique, ze story “ on stage, you must not have to tell your body how it iz zat your arms should go. Only when your body knows “ knows and understands “ ze movements so well zat it can do zem wizzout help, zen you will be able to do it as it is meant to be done. So, you must focus!”
Ninette started getting up earlier in the morning to practice. As soon as classes were over in the afternoon, she hurried to the made-over classroom and danced. She practiced even in the classes themselves, using class time to stretch her arches, pointing and flexing her toes to strengthen her feet. During meals, or while waiting to be dismissed, she went over the steps in her mind; “You must know zem well enough to dance zem in your sleep,” Madame had said.
Some days Madame praised her, and then she would feel a thrill of happiness run through her entire body. But other times, after her teacher had left and she stayed alone in the classroom to practice, the mirror would gloat at her, and the happiness would dissipate. “You call yourself a dancer?” her reflection in the mirror seemed to say. “You call that dancing?”
Yet she was not unhappy “ she was more free than she had been since her first day of dancing under Aunt Edris’ watchful eye.
She went through her days in a sort of haze; dancing and lessons and dancing again “ it was with surprise one day that she realized she could do magic. Not big magic “ but she could make her wand light up, or make an object rise up in the air before her. She was far from being the best in her class “ she sometimes struggled for a long time over simple spells that people like Tonks mastered during class time. Nonetheless, it gave her a warm glow inside, knowing that she could make things happen with a wave of her wand. It wasn’t like dancing at all “ it was concrete and tangible, something she could grasp. She began working harder on her lessons at night.
At the same time, she started noticing the other students around her more. Who they were, what they were likely to say in class, how they treated each other “ and her new observation stemmed from a short encounter with a boy.
It had been a hard day “ she had woken up earlier than usual, and pushed herself very hard in her morning practice. Madame had been displeased with her the day before, and Ninette felt that she had to make up for her mistakes in her next lesson. She was tired by lunch time, and when she entered the Great Hall to see that her usual place (the one at the end of the Gryffindor table) was occupied by a group of third years, she nearly skipped the meal altogether. The only thing that made her stay was that she wanted to have a good practice that evening, and dancing without eating was exhausting. The new seat she found was uncomfortably close to the section of the table occupied by the three other first year Gryffindor girls.
She saw them before they saw her and immediately stared down at her plate, watching out of the corner of her eye. Tonks and Marianne bypassed her without a glance, but as usual Justine had time for a whispered taunt.
“Why hello, Ninny! What a surprise to see you sitting so close to us. Are you sure you don’t mind dining with us lesser mortals?”
Ninette didn’t answer, and Justine continued on to her seat. Nevertheless, Ninette finished her meal much more quickly than usual, and escaped from the Great Hall with half an hour to spare. Too much time to wait, not enough time to dance. For want of anything better to do, she made her way to her next class “ Charms “ and sat down at her usual table in the corner.
Her table. It was hers because no one else ever sat there; by mutual consent, everyone avoided her seat, not only in Charms but in the other classes as well. She wondered if they thought she was contagious “ though she did not know of what disease she might be accused.
She glanced at the clock “ no one was due to come in for another fifteen minutes, and she had her leotard on underneath. Pulling up her robes to her waist, she began to stretch her legs, going through her splits and extensions.
Someone was ten minutes earlier than usual. She was lucky, and heard him at the door “ she managed to pull down her robes, covering her leotard, and was scrambling to her feet as he entered.
If he was surprised to see her half on the ground, he did not show it. His freckled face seemed to light up to see someone else in the room. It was Charlie Weasley “ one of the boys to whom she had not spoken since the first day. Dropping her gaze to the floor, Ninette slipped into her seat without a word.
“Hello,” he said brightly. She glanced back up in surprise to see him still looking at her, his grin broader than ever.
Her voice was sticking in her throat, but she managed to force out a quiet response.
He did the last thing she expected, and crossed the room, stopping right in front of her table. Automatically she shrank back, but he did not seem to notice.
“You’re Ninette, right?” he prompted. She managed a wordless nod, but he did not seem repulsed “ his face practically shone with goodwill. “I never see you around,” he remarked cheerfully. “You always disappear right after class.”
She made no response, but he pressed on undeterred. “D’you mind if I sit with you? My friend Kevin accidentally put the leg-locker hex on himself and then fell down the stairs, so he’s in the hospital wing.”
Without a word she moved her books to the side to make room for him.
“Thank you,” he said, smiling. Every particle of her body wanted to move away from him “ he was too close, and she was unused to sharing a desk with anyone, much less with a boy.
They sat in silence for a minute; Ninette thought she ought to say something, but couldn’t think of anything to say. “Is he alright?” she asked at last, scarcely daring to believe that she had spoken.
“Who?” Charlie looked mystified. The pause had been too long.
“Your friend.” She regretting having spoken at all. Silence would have been better.
“Oh, Kevin? He’s fine now, I’m sure. He broke his ankle, but Madam Pomfrey will have patched him up by now. Bill “ that’s my brother “ says Madam Pomfrey is excellent.”
“She can just fix his ankle “ just like that?” Ninette’s incredulity overcame her fear of speaking. A broken ankle was a major setback to a dancer.
Charlie just nodded matter-of-factly. “Of course.”
They lapsed back into silence. People were beginning to trickle into the room; several gave Ninette odd glances, probably surprised to see her sitting with someone for a change.
“Where did your name come from?”
Surprised, Ninette turned back to Charlie. “Sorry?”
“Your name is unusual “ where did it come from?” he asked again.
“My mother chose it,” she answered. “After Ninette de Valois.”
“Who?”
“Ninette de Valois.” Charlie still looked uncomprehending, so she continued. “The founder of the Royal Ballet.”
“What’s ballet?”
Ninette did not know how to answer that “ she dropped her gaze to the table, and was still sitting in silence when Professor Flitwick entered the room and began class.
She would not have been surprised if Charlie had repented of his actions and abandoned her when class was over. However, he turned to her as the bell rang. “D’you want to come play Exploding Snap?” he demanded. “Kevin’s probably out of the Hospital Wing by now.”
For one delightful moment she considered it; then she remembered Justine’s teasing, and an image of her aunt’s face flashed through her mind.
It was only Charlie’s kindness which made her answer him at all. “I have to go,” she whispered, before fleeing down the corridor towards the safe haven of her practice room.
That was all “ the entire incident. It did not develop into anything more, and Ninette remained as friendless as ever, though Charlie smiled at her once in a while in the halls. However, she started noticing the other students, connecting the names and faces even of students in other years.
“Now an elevé in first position. How does zat feel? Lift your weight out of your ‘ips “ it will take some of ze pressure off of ze toes. Yes, zat is better. Now, put your weight into ze right foot, left leg into a coupé. Passé “ toes back, heels forward. Non, do not sickle! Do not sickle!”
Ninette always came out of her lessons not only tired but often in pain. Aside from sore muscles, she had only in the last month started pointe work. She had looked forward to putting on pointe shoes for years. Her feet were strong “ she could walk on her toes quite easily “ and yet it had been a question of waiting until they were fully developed.
Now they were “ and her own dancing was a far cry from the easy gracefulness she had seen so often on stage. In the shoes, her feet felt twice their normal weight. For a long time she had pointed her feet without a thought, but now they felt stiff as wooden blocks.
“Not like zat! Not like zat!” came the cry, over and over again. “Do you not know why zey first began to use ze points? It was Taglioni “ graceful and light “ who began to dance on her toes. Do you know why? She wanted to give ze impression of a sylph, skimming along ze ground! A sylph “ not an elephant. Light! You must be light!”
She never danced en pointe for long; fifteen minutes, perhaps half an hour a day, and only under Madame’s close supervision. Even this was hard on her feet; they blistered and ached almost constantly.
One day she came back from her practice and examined them closely. She had always been secretly proud of her feet; they were small and white and dainty, with graceful toes and a strong arch “ perfect feet for a dancer, she had been told. However now they were changed; although she rubbed them with ointment and enclosed them in bandages, they had become rough and raw. Her toes were covered in blisters, and she was developing ugly calluses. They would get uglier still as time went on, she knew “ it was a secret dancers hid underneath their beautiful poise and grace. All the same, she could hardly bear to look at them “ they seemed hideous, physical reminders of all her blemishes.
She averted her eyes as she pulled her nightdress on, and put her clothes away quickly. Pressing her ankles together she lay stomach down on her bed in the frog position with her knees spread apart, and strove to push her ankles down. As she started her Transfiguration essay, she could not help but be distracted by the giggles from the other side of the room. The three girls were sitting on Marianne’s bed with their heads close together. She watched them wistfully for a minute, with a feeling that was new to her “ a yearning that seemed to have started at the time of her short encounter with Charlie. Even her aunt’s words echoing in her head “ “dancing must come first “ before friends, before family, before anything” “ did not stop her from wishing.
Then Justine looked up and met her eyes; she raised her eyebrows and sent Ninette a questioning look. “What are you doing, watching us?” the look seemed to ask. “You have no business intruding into our affairs. Leave us alone. There’s no room for you here.”
Ninette dropped her gaze; even if she had been able to overcome her aunt’s maxims, it would not have mattered “ they did not want her.
AN: Thanks to HermioneDancr, who very kindly beta-d all the ballet parts in this chapter.
Mice Will Play by Ennalee
“There was another riot in Birmingham yesterday.” The whispers pervaded the school quickly, passed down by the older students who received newspapers.
“I heard three wizards were killed.”
“I heard they were all Muggle-born.”
“ I heard that You-Know-Who’s back.”
“He isn’t!”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not! Why else would Muggles be attacked?”
“Who says they were?”
“I heard that two were killed.”
“Three!”
“You’re all wrong. It was over goblin rights.”
“What do you know?”
“It must be serious “ Dumbledore went to help.”
“What for? What can he do?”
“The Ministry doesn’t know what to do “ they’ve been in shambles since You-Know-Who.”
“They’ve been in shambles since before You-Know-Who.”
“They can’t keep control “ no one trusts them anymore.”
“Well, why should we? They practically allowed You-Know-Who to walk in!”
“Even now that he’s gone, they can’t stop fighting over who gets power. If he came back, no one would be in a position to do anything about it!”
“I think they’re doing a good job!”
“Then why are people rioting?”
“I told you “ it’s over Goblin rights!”
“No “ they killed Muggle-borns!”
“What does it matter? It doesn’t affect us!”
“That’s what they said about You-Know-Who, and see what happened then!”
No one knew whom to believe “ no one knew which whispers were true. The carefully perused newspapers were terse and uninformative; the only thing known for certain was that Dumbledore had gone to help, leaving McGonagall temporarily in charge.
McGonagall was worried “ that much was obvious. Tonks had never seen her mouth so thin, nor her forehead so furrowed. She was not the only teacher to show signs of stress; Snape had grown more forbidding and strict than ever. All the teachers talked anxiously during meals, and the older students scanned their newspapers every morning at breakfast.
Matters were different among the younger students. The Muggle-borns among them had not experienced what it was like to live when You-Know-Who was in power, and even for herself and the others who had grown up in the Wizarding World, the affairs of two years past had faded slightly. The lurking presence that had hovered on the edges of Tonks’ life for so many years no longer seemed a reality, and though the thought of You-Know-Who still awoke chills in all of them, it seemed far off and long ago.
For this reason, the weeks that followed proved enjoyable in many ways to the younger students. Many of the teachers were preoccupied enough to miss things which they would otherwise have punished; the students were able to get away with an unprecedented number of things.
In addition to Dumbledore, other teachers began to come and go as well; Snape was often gone, as was Hagrid, the groundskeeper.
Two weeks after Dumbledore left he returned, looking tired; he stayed only for two days. When he left again he took Professor Radkin, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, with him. According to the rumors, he had left McGonagall to find them a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. The rumors were substantiated by the strange array of wizards and witches seen entering and exiting McGonagall’s office, though Tonks personally suspected that some were news-bringers rather than candidates.
In the meantime, they had Defense Against the Dark Arts periods free, a luxury that everyone enjoyed, even the older and more worried students. At first Tonks spent the free time with Justine and Marianne; however as she grew increasingly bored with their conversation, she tagged along with Charlie and Kevin as they explored the school.
“Bill told me he found a couple secret passages,” she had overheard Charlie say. “And he says that there are miles of passages under the school. Haven’t you always wanted to explore underground passages?”
“Er “” Kevin had said.
“Long and dark and stone, with twists and turns, that lead unexpected places “ Bill even showed me a spell to make your wand light up. See “ lumos, ” he demonstrated.
“May I come?” Tonks had been hesitant but eager. “I was in Paris last year and my dad went down into the catacombs, but my mum wouldn’t let me, and I’ve wanted to see tunnels ever since!”
The boys had looked at her skeptically. “Are you sure you want to?” Kevin had asked dubiously. “It’ll be dark, and there’ll probably be spiders.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“What about snakes?” Kevin looked challenging.
“I don’t mind.”
“Skeletons? Ghouls? There could be anything.”
Tonks did not allow herself to hesitate even for a moment. “I want to come.”
Charlie had looked at her appraisingly. “Promise you won’t get scared and make us take you back?”
“I promise.” Although the prospect of tunnels had never even entered her mind before, she found herself unable to bear the thought of being left behind.
“Even if “”
“I promise.”
Kevin had been skeptical and Charlie surprised, but they finally agreed to let her come.
Their worry had been unnecessary; Tonks was afraid of plenty of things, but nothing that was found in the cool, dry passages underneath Hogwarts. Bones would have been another matter “ bones and blood, or slimy walls sinking down into underground lakes “ but the passages beneath the Hogwarts dungeons held none of that. They began coming down every day to explore.
Tonks rather suspected that what they were doing was not strictly allowed; while she had never heard that exploring the passages was forbidden, she had the feeling that most people did not know of their existence. Had the teachers realized that a small group of students knew, there might have been rules against it; then again, she was not entirely certain that all of the teachers were aware of the tunnels in the first place.
In any case, they had wonderful times. Kevin, always the sensible one, made sure that they marked the path they had taken with a string. Tonks liked to pretend that they were Theseus searching the maze for the Minotaur, though unfortunately the string never unrolled in front of them to show the way. Though they spoke of hidden treasure and passages that led out of the school, they did not find anything particularly interesting, only long tunnels and bare rooms. Then again, as Charlie said, “half the fun was in looking for them.”
It was fun; they tried to learn the twists and turns by heart, though they never went far without their string. They could not seem to find an end to the passages; Charlie surmised that the entire cliff on which Hogwarts was built was filled with them. His older brother had told him that they were even older than Hogwarts itself, remainders of a tribe of wizards who had lived in prehistoric times. Supposedly the passages had been used for defense; no one who did not already know the way would be able to find their way in or out. According to Charlie the very existence of the tunnels spoke of a way out. Yet however hard they searched, they found none.
Several times Charlie’s older brother Bill came with them; not when they went during the day, but when they sneaked down in the evening. He knew the passages much better than they did “ he had been exploring them for two years “ but he had found nothing either. He said that the caverns had once been used to store treasure; now they were empty and bare, but he always hoped to something that had been overlooked by whoever it was who had removed it.
The explorations with Bill were always the most fun. He had a flair for the dramatic, and always managed to turn things into an adventure. When he led them through the passages; they held their wands high and talked in hushed voices. Something about the tunnels seemed to call for whispers and vigilance, and Bill would play on the atmosphere until they almost believed that what he said was true.
“Today we’re venturing down to the underworld like Orpheus,” he would explain. Or, “now we’re exploring a city lost to man and wizard alike for thousands of years. Ours are the first feet to step on this ground for untold ages. We must be careful; who knows what lurks behind the next corner? With lost civilizations come lost dangers; we must be prepared for the impossible.”
Although Tonks knew that Bill was a lofty two years older than they, and was just humoring his brother and friends, she constantly looked forward to his coming. Even when he did not turn things into a game, his very presence added a new element. He had the ability to make her shiver with delight and fear as they skulked round the corners avoiding their enemies, and yet at the same time she never was frightened, because he seemed to have everything under control.
In all their explorations Tonks was only truly frightened once, on an occasion when Bill was not present.
They were going down one of the passages near enough to the entrance that they were familiar with all the twists and turns. Kevin was teasing Tonks, trying to convince her that something was creeping up behind her. He did it often; she did not believe him and yet she was wary, because she knew that any moment he was going to grab her neck and pretend to be a ghoul. She was determined not to let out any sign of surprise or fear
“Don’t you hear that?” whispered Kevin in his spookiest voice. Tonks giggled, and then fell silent; for once she did hear something.
Charlie and Kevin were pushing each other back and forth playfully; Tonks attempted to silence them. “Listen!” she whispered.
Kevin gave a quiet crow of triumph. “I’ve finally done it!” he announced softly. “I’ve convinced her! I’ve been telling her for days that there’s a ghoul out to get her, and it’s finally sunk in.”
“Most ghouls aren’t that bad,” Charlie defended, as he always did. “The one in our attic is quite friendly, and “ ”
“Oh be quiet, both of you! I’m being serious; listen!”
For once the boys listened to her; everything was silent “ save for the sound of footsteps, coming slowly, evenly, and unrelentingly towards them.
With his usual presence of mind, Charlie drew both of them back down the hall and into a small but empty chamber. They crouched inside trying not to make a sound. Tonks was certain they would be discovered; their breathing seemed loud, and her heart beat echoed in her ears.
Try as she might, Tonks could not discern the reason for her fear. It was probably another student “ maybe even Bill. At worst it was a teacher who would reprimand or punish them if they were found. It was not logical to imagine that there was a supporter of He Who Must Not Be Named lurking in the depths of Hogwarts. There was no reason to assume that; the Dark Lord was dead, and his supporters were being rooted out. Hogwarts was the last place he or they would come. Yet she was undeniably frightened, and could tell from the pace of the boys’ breathing that she was not alone in that fear. She supposed it was the aroma of fear that had pervaded the school since Dumbledore had left; the whispers of the return of the Dark Lord had left more of an effect on her than she had previously realized.
None of them could resist leaning forward as the footsteps neared their corridor; despite their fear they were overcome with curiosity and the necessity to know who had entered their private haunts. None of them expected the identity of the face illuminated by wand-light.
When the person had passed, they all sat without moving. It was Kevin who broke the silence. “What’s Dumbledore doing here?” he questioned.
It was Charlie who gave the inevitable response. “Let’s follow him and find out.”
They crept along the passage as silently as they could manage. Not silently enough, Tonks thought in chagrin. To be truthful, she had to admit that it was her fault. For all that he was the largest of the three, Charlie moved as silently as a ghost, and Kevin was not bad either. Try as she might, however, Tonks could not keep her footfalls from echoing, and several times she kicked loose pebbles, causing clattering. Kevin and Charlie each looked at her in annoyance at some point or other, and yet Dumbledore never paused in his path. Past forks and through twisting and turning passages, Dumbledore walked without hesitation as the three of them trailed behind.
At last he turned aside into what appeared to be a room; as he did so Charlie, who was leading, stopped short and pressed against the wall. From the chamber came a voice they knew even better than Dumbledore’s.
“Well?” asked Professor McGonagall.
Dumbledore’s voice echoed oddly in the air of the tunnel. “There was no sign of him. There were former Death Eaters, and many pureblood fanatics “ his name was on everyone’s tongue, but I do not believe they were acting on his orders.”
“And the “” Her question hung unfinished in the air.
“I have it.”
McGonagall let out a sharp sigh of relief. “Where did they find it? How “?”
“That is what I’m going to find out. The Ministry thinks that Voldemort’s defeat has rid the world of trouble. People do not want more fighting “ they are sick of war. They are refusing to see the danger, refusing to believe that someone else might use his downfall to come into power. Refusing to believe that the same people might rally under someone else’s leadership.”
“You’re going back, then.”
“Yes. As soon as I take care of this.”
There was a long pause, and then another intake of breath from McGonagall. “Is it really“?”
“Yes,” he said. “I do not think that a replica could have had this effect, do you?” His voice sobered. “Now it is up to us to fix the trouble it has caused. And then we must see about it itself. It has been flawed since its creation “ perhaps even before. I am not sure what effect it may still have “ or what may be the consequences of its destruction.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Only what you’ve already been doing.” He paused again. “I suppose you could re-supply my office with raspberry jam. I seem to have run out.”
“Very well, then, have it your way,” said McGonagall, sounding rueful.
Dumbledore laughed. The sound seemed to shake some of the heaviness out of the darkness that filled the tunnel. “When have I not? Well, I suppose I must get down to this sometime. You might return through the spiral passage, instead of the painted way.”
“Why?” McGonagall sounded suspicious.
Dumbledore’s voice was amused. “Change of scenery, my dear Minerva. It doesn’t do to get too staid in our paths. You never know when something new and surprising might come up.”
There was silence from the room and then, before any of them could react, Professor McGonagall came striding out. Tonks thought they would be discovered, but it was pitch black save for the wan light from McGonagall’s wand, and she did not turn towards them but away, walking quickly and steadily down the dark passageway towards places they had never explored. Before she was out of sight the tunnel branched, and she turned left.
Dumbledore stayed in the room for several minutes; they could hear him moving around softly. At one point he spoke a few words, but though Tonks strained her ears, she could not make them out; they were far more muffled than the conversation with McGonagall had been, though Tonks could not discern why.
When Dumbledore finally came out, all three held their breath; there was no question that Dumbledore’s eyes were sharper than McGonagall’s.
Tonks could have sworn they saw his eyes flash in their direction, and yet he turned in the other direction and walked away from them, in the same direction as McGonagall. Except, when he reached the fork in the corridor, he turned right.
They watched him go; Tonks felt a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach, knowing that he was leaving the school once again. She had not realized that the situation was so serious; despite the rumors, she had thought the threat was over. She looked at the boys, but could not make out their faces in the fading light; then Dumbledore disappeared round the corner, and the light was completely gone.
There was a long pause; they stood without moving. “ Lumos,” said Kevin at last. The light reflected the queer, painted walls of the corridor around them, and shone strangely on their pale faces. Charlie’s freckles stood out with unusual clarity, and Kevin’s eyes seemed dark hollows in his face. They stared at each other without a word; Tonks found herself wishing that Bill was with them.
Charlie moved forward; Kevin reached up and grabbed him by the sleeve. “Where are you going?” he demanded hoarsely.
“To see if there’s anything in the room,” Charlie answered. They both followed him in.
At first glance the chamber appeared to be small, but it stretched in an oblong shape, and its rough walls were full of nooks and crannies that disappeared into blackness “ there was no way to tell exactly what size it was. In the wavering light from Kevin’s wand, the shadows seemed to undulate, and Tonks felt as if anything might come creeping out; there was no telling what the crevices were hiding. Without fear, Tonks had adventured with the boys through the many dark tunnels, but this room was different; it was heavy with heat and with magic, and she did not like it.
She caught her breath in fear as Charlie lit up his wand and thrust it into one of the gaping holes in the wall. The light illuminated a small stone nook “ empty. She let out a sigh of relief “ too soon, for Charlie had moved to the next niche. This time the space lit up was larger, large enough to fit a grown person, or perhaps two of herself.
“What are you doing?” asked Kevin uncertainly, and Tonks found herself glad that he sounded as nervous as she felt.
“Looking for that package,” answered Charlie.
“Package?” Kevin sounded mystified; Tonks certainly was. “What do you mean?”
“Dumbledore was carrying a package,” Charlie explained patiently. “Didn’t you see? And he told McGonagall that ‘he had it,’ and they spoke of finding something. When he left he wasn’t carrying anything, and neither was McGonagall. I just want to see what they were that was important enough to bring Dumbledore in person, instead of sending whatever it was by owl. And if it was so important, why did they just leave it here, instead of putting it somewhere safer, like Dumbledore’s office?”
Tonks looked at Kevin, and he looked at her “ neither of them had noticed any sort of package, and Tonks at least had been very confused by Dumbledore’s allusions to ‘it.’
“How could you tell?” Kevin asked skeptically. “It was dark “ they might have been carrying something, or they could have it them in their pockets or under their cloaks. You can’t tell a thing like that “ even with more light it might be hard.”
“Then why did Dumbledore stay so long?” questioned Charlie. “You heard him moving around. I think he hid it - whatever it was “ and I want to find it.”
“If Dumbledore hid them, don’t you think there’s a good reason?” Kevin sounded anxious. “You’d better leave it.”
Charlie was continuing to check the walls as he spoke. “I just want to see what it is, to see if all the rumors are true.”
“I want to go.” Almost Tonks did not recognize her own voice “ it sounded uncertain and almost whiny, the voice of a child much younger than herself. “I think we should go now.”
“I’ll just be a minute,” said Charlie, continuing on to the next shadow.
Tonks couldn’t bear it, could not stand the thought that his wand might light up Something any minute now. If only Bill was there “ Bill, with his steady voice and confident face and his third-year knowledge of magic. But he was not.
“I want to go “ now,” she insisted.
Charlie must have caught the edge of panic in her voice, because he turned aside. “Let’s go, then,” he replied.
“See what comes of bringing a girl with us?” complained Kevin. “I told you it was a bad idea.”
Ordinarily Tonks would have come up with a cutting response, but now she was too eager to leave. Anyway, the look on Kevin’s face belied his words “ she could tell that he was looking forward to leaving as well, and glad to use her as an excuse.
As they left the chamber, some of the weight that seemed to have been pressing down on Tonks’ chest this whole adventure lifted; she was left with the feeling that the air in the chamber had been stuffy and the air in the passageway was clearer, though she knew that was not true. In any case, she was relieved to turn down the tunnel they had come through “ the tunnel back towards Hogwarts. That is, until they arrived at the first fork in the passageway. It was not until then that Tonks realized what had happened.
“What are we going to do?” she moaned. “We have no idea how to get back.”
Charlie realized at the same moment “ in the light of his wand his face appeared grayish. “Bill’s going to kill me for sheer stupidity “ if we ever get out of this alive.”
They both turned to Kevin, only to see that he was holding out their trusty ball of string; one end was stretching into the blackness, towards the left hand branch. “I thought we might need this,” he said, with justifiable pride.
He led the way down the passage. Dropping back, Charlie whispered to Tonks ruefully, “He’s never going to let us forget this.”
“You saw who?” Bill asked incredulously.
Coming back from their adventure, the three of them had cornered Bill, drawn him away from his friends, and forced him into a corner, where they related what had occurred.
“Dumbledore,” Charlie repeated. “Meeting secretly with McGonagall to tell her what he’s been doing.”
“I don’t believe this,” Bill groaned. “Of course you overhear a secret conference “ when I’m not there. Why couldn’t the exciting things wait for me?”
“You wouldn’t have been able to do anything differently,” Charlie protested. He left out the fact that but for Kevin they would have been lost; they had decided that Bill did not need to know that.
“You nearly got caught!” Bill exclaimed indignantly. “Do you realize that if they had seen you, then we wouldn’t be allowed to go down there anymore? Especially not if the teachers are using it for secret communication.” He paused, his brow furrowed. “Why didn’t you stay?”
They looked at him in surprise.
“Why didn’t you keep on looking for that package?”
Kevin opened his mouth, but Tonks saw Charlie step on his foot. “Er,” Charlie said, “well, we . . .” He stopped, obviously stuck.
“I made them come back,” said Tonks, without any real idea of why she was confessing to cowardice in front of Bill. “I didn’t like it.”
Bill nodded. “Fair enough. Anyway, that’s not important. What I really want to know is whether or not you’ll be able to find your way back.”
“Back?” said Kevin.
“Yes, back,” replied Bill, sounding for the first time slightly exasperated with them. “How else are we supposed to find out what’s going on?” No one answered, so he continued. “But you’re not going back down there alone.”
“We didn’t get caught, did we?” protested Kevin.
“You could have been easily,” retaliated Bill. “It was just luck. From now on, wait for me before you go exploring. Especially in that direction.”
They protested indignantly; Bill did not have Wednesday afternoons off to go exploring as they did. However in the end, it did not turn out to be worth the argument.
“I would like you all to welcome Professor Greggens, our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher while Professor Radkin is away,” McGonagall announced during breakfast the next morning. They all clapped politely as a slight, dark-haired witch stood up at the staff table.
“She doesn’t look like a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at all,” complained Marianne. “She’s so little.”
She was very unprepossessing “ not at all like burly Professor Radkin, who was a retired Auror. In fact, she was quite pleasing to look at, with curly hair and dark eyes. She blushed as everyone stared at her, and sat down hastily.
The usual speculations began to spread across the tables.
“She looks like she won’t be too hard on us.”
“She seems so quiet!”
“D’you think we can convince her to let us leave?”
However, when Tonks and the others entered their first class with her, she proved to be made of much sterner stuff than they had thought. She quickly brought order to the disorganized class, and taught them a rousing lesson on Hinkypunks.
Though resentful of her loss of freedom, Tonks could not help but be interested “ but she still would have preferred to go exploring.
It seemed that their subterranean adventures were doomed to come to an end; Snape had taken to skulking round the dungeons, and they could not find a way to get past him without attracting undue attention.
Eventually life settled back into its usual pattern, except that now Tonks was as liable to be found with Charlie and Kevin as with Marianne and Justine.
AN: Many, many thanks to Ashwinder, for betaing this chapter for me!
Dreams of Spun Sugar by Ennalee
The music swirled around and began, a merry tune of excitement and anticipation. The curtain rose to reveal a room decked out for a party, complete with a beautifully decorated Christmas tree, far larger than life. Covered in painted candy “ marzipan shepherds and fairies of spun sugar “ it provided a focus for the entire scene. As Clara danced her way onto the stage Ninette found herself lost in the world of the Nutcracker. Though she had seen it “ danced in it “ year after year, Christmas after Christmas, she loved it still. She knew every movement and the feeling which prompted it; she knew exactly why Clara must lift her chin and throw up her arms at that exact moment . . .
“She’s ruining it. Look at her left foot! How could anyone in their right mind choose Amy Richardson to dance Clara? I’d have made her a party guest! If that. Did you see her hand dip during that plié? She almost lost her balance just now. Dreadful.” Aunt Edris spoke in an outraged whisper into Ninette’s ear “ a quiet but cacophonous accompaniment to the gay music of the orchestra.
Her aunt’s voice drew Ninette back from her fairytale world into the realm of technique and criticism. It was her first night back from Hogwarts on Christmas holiday, and, “Watch this!” demanded Aunt Edris. “These chassés turns are difficult “ I’m sure she won’t get them. Look at her feet, not even stretched “ absolutely dreadful! Even worse than Katie Harris last year.”
Clara was receiving her gifts now. There it was “ the Nutcracker, her favorite. With her eyes Ninette followed Clara as she danced with her doll. A doll whom she loved “ a doll whom she loved enough to make real. Ninette had practiced this dance in her room at home “ with a pillow, for she had no dolls of her own.
“It should have been you up there. Amy has none of your technique. It should have been you.”
Fritz and the boys circled around Clara, teasing her; Clara drew back, protecting the Nutcracker. Ninette, who had nothing to protect, knew why.
“If you hadn’t gone away . . .”
The party guests were leaving. Clara clutched the Nutcracker to herself, loving it “ too engrossed to pay attention to her departing friends.
“Though there’s no telling what people will do . . .”
It was the middle of the night, and the stage had been left to the toys “ but Clara was coming back, coming back to be with her precious Nutcracker.
“But anyone should be able to see that you’re better than her . . .”
Now the rats were entering, coming in from all sides, and Clara was looking around, frightened, for the Nutcracker.
“I was sure you were going to get it this year . . .”
Ninette leaned forward ever so slightly, and her aunt’s voice faded away. The toys were waking up “ emerging from the shadows, no longer toys. A regiment of soldiers, dressed gaily in blue and red, marched out to confront the rats. And at last, there was the Nutcracker himself “ life size and wielding a sword. Clara “ for to Ninette she was not Amy but Clara “ clapped her hands in delight, and spun about to see everything.
All through the ballet Ninette watched, enraptured, as Clara and her Prince were entertained by the sweets come to life; the stage was filled with the dainty marzipan shepherdesses and the fairies of spun sugar “ all the dreams of a child come true.
Ninette danced the part of Clara that night, with every part of herself besides her body “ and without her body, the mirror could do nothing to her.
In the house next door there was a family of five children. Ninette liked to watch them from her window when she was not practicing. They were always outside “ running around, playing tag in the backyard “ and laughing. They were always laughing.
She had been invited over several times when she had first come to Aunt Edris “ but she had never been allowed to go. “Your knees!” Aunt Edris had said. But she still liked to watch.
Every year Jeannie “ the Morris girl who was just a year older than Ninette “ had a party celebrating both Christmas and her birthday. Every year she invited Ninette “ and every year, for the past six years, Ninette had stayed at home. This year was no different. The invitation arrived, gaily colored, hand-drawn by Jeannie’s artist brother. It lay on Ninette’s desk for a single day, before she wrote the polite refusal that she wrote every year, and put the invitation in a folder with the six other invitations.
She woke up early the next morning “ earlier than usual, so that she would run no risk of meeting anyone on her way “ and slipped out of the house to place her reply in the Morris’ mail slot.
The door swung open just as Ninette reached it. She started back in surprise, and nearly fled “ only her aunt’s careful training kept her in place. She dropped her eyes to the ground without looking up once.
Everything was completely silent “ so silent that at last Ninette thought she must have imagined the door opening. She raised her eyes, and met the gaze of a little girl.
Ninette knew her, of course, from her years of watching. At five years of age, Lottie was the baby of the family. Ninette could remember the party the Morris’ had when Lottie was born. The Morris house had overflowed with people for days, people spilling out of the doors and windows, filling the yard. She had thought it funny that their house could be so busy, while her own remained silent and imperturbable. Somehow the Morris’ laughter never penetrated the windows of Aunt Edris’ house.
Now Lottie stared back at her with dark, impenetrable eyes. Ninette held out the letter. “Will you give this to Jeannie?” she asked quietly.
Lottie took the letter without moving her eyes from Ninette’s face. “Why won’t you come?” she asked, her childish voice questioning.
Ninette did not answer. She had not known that Lottie knew who she was “ nor how she knew that Ninette would not come.
“Jeannie says you won’t come. It makes her sad. Why won’t you?”
“I can’t,” Ninette answered. The little girl nodded once, as if she understood. Ninette turned around and went down the path back to her own house, where an empty room stood waiting for her to practice.
She watched the party from her window “ late at night, after she was supposed to be in bed. The house was filled with lights, and she could see shadows of people moving around inside. Jeannie’s two older brothers were there, teasing and laughing, and the music was loud. Joyous. As always. She watched as Keith, the oldest Morris, held Lottie up to the window, their forms dark against the light background. She did not know what they were doing, staring out from a warm room into an empty, barren winter garden, but she felt a sudden craving for a human touch “ a closeness, a warmth that might make its way into her own cold body. As she pressed her forehead against the freezing glass of the window, she found herself longing for her mother.
Her earliest memory was of being lifted onto her mother’s bed, where her mother would tickle her until she shrieked and squirmed; when she was tired, she would cuddle close against her mother’s warm body “ and somehow she never seemed to get lifted out and taken back to her own room.
There was a picture of her mother on the old wooden chest of drawers in Ninette’s room. It was not very old, but it was in black and white. Cynthia’s hair was pulled back into a twist at the back of her head, and she wore a leotard. It only showed the upper half of her body, but she sat with her arms around her knees, staring off over the photographer’s left shoulder. Her face and hair were light against the dark background. “A piece of art,” said Aunt Edris “ and it was. But Ninette just liked to look at her.
There was one other picture of Cynthia, but this one was taken from a distance. She was on stage, dancing Giselle “ the tragic heroine whom every dancer longed to dance. Her partner was holding her up above his head, and the line of her body was true and absolutely lovely.
There were more pictures in Aunt Edris’ room “ pictures of Cynthia that appeared on posters and in reviews. But these two belonged to Ninette.
There were no pictures of her father. She did not even know his name.
Next door there was a loud burst of laughter, and Ninette permitted herself to imagine, for a moment, what it would have been like if she had been there. She could see herself, huddled in a corner, afraid to speak “ and was glad that Aunt Edris would not have let her attend.
The tree was tall and wide, and covered heavily with all sorts of decorations “ everything from dainty, fragile glass balls to paper cut-outs and stars made out of straw. It was not at all neat and tidy, with its sprawling branches and childish ornamentation, but it was as warm and joyous-looking as the Morris family itself.
Ninette could see it from her usual place at her window, and could not help comparing it with their own tree. Perhaps a quarter of the size, their tree stood on a table, decorated with a few choice ornaments. She knew it well “ it looked the same, and had the same ornaments as it had the year before, and the year before that. The presents underneath looked almost out of place, wrapped in compulsory wrapping paper though they were. Three packages, neat and tidy, underneath a tiny tree.
They opened them on Christmas night. Ninette, sore from her day’s practice, stretched her legs as she flipped through the heavy book on ballet technique that her aunt had given her. The print was small, but it was a book “ at least it had some personal significance. Her other gift had been a package of leotards and stockings.
Putting down the book, Ninette watched anxiously as her aunt unwrapped her own gift. It was not much “ only a card which she had made herself, for she had no money to spend buying presents. It was the first time she had ever given her aunt a Christmas present. Before this year, she had never thought one way or another about Christmas. The Morris family’s celebrations seemed like something in another world, far away, unreal “ her own Christmas consisted of things her aunt would have given her anyway. But for the last two weeks before school had ended, the air had been full of talk of Christmas. The girls in her dormitory had given each other Christmas presents, and discussed, with much giggling, what they were going to give to their families. So Ninette had decided to try.
She had made the card slowly and carefully, working after studying during the long nights at Hogwarts as she listened to the girls around her giggle and fall asleep. She had drawn her favorite scene from the Nutcracker; the scene in which all Clara’s dreams come true. As she watched her aunt pick it up, Ninette found herself hoping beyond belief that her aunt would like it “ somehow it would mean everything in the world if her aunt looked up and smiled. As she hoped, the dainty marzipan shepherdesses and spun sugar fairies which she had tried so clumsily to draw danced their dance of dreams through her head.
Her aunt examined the card for a moment or two, her face unreadable. Then she lifted her head and stared at Ninette, and her eyes were dark and angry. “You’re just like her,” she said, looking at Ninette as if she had been betrayed “ as if Ninette had betrayed her. “You’re just like her.”
Ninette was frozen, unable to move, unable to think. Inside her head the moving figures were stilled, caught mid-step, their graceful dance nothing but a memory, a dream. Once again, they were only marzipan and sugar.
But Aunt Edris was not finished. “Do you really think that you have time for such things?” Her voice, hard and cold, flung out the words. “Do you really think that you can become a ballet dancer by wishing, by sitting on the floor, by making cards for the right people?”
Ninette felt herself shrinking back; she hunched her shoulders against the chair behind her for comfort.
“Sit up straight,” commanded her aunt. “Sit up! You’re so much like your mother. Neither of you are able to stand alone. You need someone to show you the way, someone to point out the obstacles and the pitfalls, someone who is willing to give up their own life to help you become who you ought to be. Don’t think that I don’t notice.” Her voice had become bitter. “Why couldn’t the talent have gone to me, along with the knowledge? I know what must be done, but I cannot do it. You can, and your mother could, but neither of you are willing to try. Neither of you are willing to sacrifice.
“Your mother threw it all away “ threw it all away on a whim. Now you’ll do the same! How dare you? How dare you fail to use your talent? How many people in the world would kill to have what you have? But your mother didn’t care, it meant nothing to her, all my sacrifices meant nothing; only one thing mattered to her, and when she couldn’t have it, she “”
“What did she do?” For the first time, Ninette found the courage to raise her head, to look her aunt in the eyes. She did not know what had caused this outburst, did not know what she had done to displease her aunt so greatly, only knew that this was her chance, to find out what no one “ not even Janet “ would tell her. “What did she do?”
But her aunt closed her mouth, her lips tight, and was silent.
“What did she do?” Ninette found herself standing, and the courage to ask again came from deep inside her, from a place she had not known existed.
It was not enough. Her aunt had drawn herself up, standing tall and grand above her. “She wasted her life, as you are wasting yours.” Grabbing Ninette by the shoulders, she shook her “ not hard, but roughly, as if she were a doll. “You are not working hard enough.”
The warm, courageous spot Ninette had found was gone, and it left behind a horrible emptiness. Back in her room the mirror on the wall mocked her, and the picture of her mother dancing Giselle swayed before her eyes. She was not as beautiful as her mother, nor as good a dancer “ and if her mother had not been good enough for her aunt, how could she ever be?
AN: Many, many thanks go to Ashwinder and HermioneDancr for their help on this chapter. *huggles betas*
Voices in the Corridor by Ennalee
Author's Notes:
This chapter is about a year late in coming, but here it is after all this time. I think I can promise that this story will never go on hiatus for such a long period again, though future updates may be sporadic.
Many, many thanks to my most fantabulous of betas, Hermionedancr, who encouraged me throughout this chapter's many drafts, and helped me differentiate between Bill and Dumbledore.
“Do you think this place looks familiar?” asked Tonks, staring at the fork in the passageway in front of her. From behind her, Kevin snorted.
“No, not at all,” he said sarcastically. “It only looks exactly like all the other passageways we’ve walked through today. Everything looks the same down here “ I don’t know how you expect to find your way back to Dumbledore’s room. We could be going in the opposite direction for all we know, or we could have walked right past it!”
“The walls near Dumbledore’s room were painted, remember?” interjected Charlie. “They were all covered in queer sorts of signs and pictures.”
“No, I don’t remember,” said Kevin. “You seem to have seen all sorts of things I didn’t. Painted walls and mysterious packages “ next thing I know, you’ll be telling me all about the dragons Hagrid is secretly breeding in the next tunnel over.”
“Is that even possible? Are there dragons that can live underground?” Charlie demanded.
Tonks stomped her foot. It made distressingly little sound against the cold stone rock beneath her. “Dragons!” she burst out angrily. “We’re not looking for dragons, we’re looking for Dumbledore’s room! And if we don’t keep looking for it we’ll never find it, and we’ll never figure out what he hid!”
“Why do you want to find it so badly?” Kevin asked. “It’s been over a month since Dumbledore put it there, and he could have moved it already. And even if you did find it, what would you do? Hide it under your bed? I’m sure it would make your mum real proud if you got kicked out of Hogwarts for stealing.”
“We wouldn’t steal it!” Tonks exclaimed hotly. “I’d just like to know what it is! Maybe someone else would try to steal it, and we could save it and then we’d be heroes just like Harry Potter, and-”
Bill laughed. “I’m curious too, Tonks. But from what you said about the other room, we’re probably miles away. See how the walls here are really rough? I bet that’s because we’re in the older part of the tunnels. Look at the runes carved into the walls!”
Tonks stopped, and ran her fingers across the queer symbols. “Can you read them?” she asked.
Bill moved his wand closer to the wall, throwing the shadows into sharp relief. “This one is Raido, which stands for a long journey. And next to it is Thurisaz…in combination, I think they mean a dragon.” He turned to grin at his brother. “Hear that, Charlie? Maybe your dragons aren’t so farfetched after all.”
“Maybe we’re about to discover a dragon’s cavern,” said Charlie, catching his brother’s spirit. “He’ll be guarding a room full of treasure, of course, and we’ll have to fight him to get it! Or maybe someone could distract him while the rest of us took it. There could be all sorts of magical objects, and we could bring them back to the school, and then we wouldn’t have to worry about finding Dumbledore’s room at all, Tonks “ we’d be heroes for just saving the treasure!”
Kevin blinked. “I’d rather keep looking for Dumbledore’s room,” he said. “Dragons from a distance are fine. Dragons up close, not so fine. I don’t do dragons.”
“Kevin’s scared,” teased Tonks.
“I am not!” retorted Kevin. “Just practical. Fighting dragons? Definitely not practical.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be a brave Gryffindor?” asked Tonks.
“No, I’m a smart Gryffindor. Rare things, those. Anyway, I don’t see either of you charging off to fight dragons anytime soon.”
“That’s because we haven’t found them yet,” answered Charlie. “And we won’t anytime soon, if we don’t get moving.” He and Kevin began moving down the passage, Kevin busily unwinding their ball of string as he went. Bill hung back, continuing to trace the runes with his finger. Tonks was still trying to think up an intelligent question to ask him to start him talking again when Charlie’s voice broke the silence.
“Are you two coming? We’ve found something!”
Bill and Tonks shared a look of mutual excitement before sprinting down the passageway in pursuit. To Tonks’ great disappointment, the boys had found neither dragons nor Dumbledore’s secret, but the room they had found was intriguing nonetheless. It was a small, round chamber, and the walls were completely covered in carving. Despite its small size, the room had a distinct presence, almost as if it were something alive. Everyone stood for several moments before Bill broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been here before.”
“You have?” the others asked together.
“The first time I ever came down into the tunnels. Professor Emrys “ my Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher my first year “ brought me down here.” He ran his fingers down the queer symbols carved into the stone, looking thoughtful. “Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald in this room.” He looked up to see the others’ surprised expressions and laughed. “You didn’t know that it happened at Hogwarts? Well, under Hogwarts, at least. You should pay more attention in History of Magic.”
Kevin snorted. “Grindelwald? He’s far too modern for Binns to talk about. He’s only interested in things that happened before International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy went into effect. Which, by the way, was in 1692, and don’t ask me how I know that because I really have no idea.”
“Is it possible that you actually paid attention in History of Magic once?” Tonks asked, feigning shock.
Kevin made a face, and Charlie laughed. “I have yet to see the day.”
“We must have come down a lot farther than I thought,” said Bill, ignoring them. “This is one of the oldest parts of the tunnels, which are one of the oldest wizard-made places in England themselves. The rest of Hogwarts was just built on top of all of this, centuries and centuries later. Lie down.”
“What?” asked Charlie, startled.
Bill grinned. “Just do it. With your ear against the ground.”
Tonks lay down immediately and pressed her ear against the floor, surprised at how cold it was “ somehow the room gave the impression of being warm. For a few moments she lay in bemusement, wondering what she was supposed to be doing, and then she noticed it. She couldn’t tell if she was hearing or feeling it, but it was there, a deep, warm, thrumming coming from the stone. She sat up, startled. “What is that?”
Next to her, Charlie’s face mirrored her expression, and Kevin, who was still standing, looked surprised.
“It’s the magic,” Bill said. “Old Magic.”
“Old Magic?” Kevin asked, sounding skeptical.
“Professor Emrys was mainly interested in Old Magic “ Celtic protective spells, tree circles, mirror magic, water masking, Egyptian curses, all that “ I asked about them, and he brought me down here. He said he wasn’t really supposed to show students the tunnels, but he seemed so excited that I was actually interested in Old Magic; he thinks that our generation would do a lot better to spend less time looking forward and more looking back.
“Old Magic, for the most part, was how wizards worked spells before they had wands to focus their magic. It took huge amounts of energy, but they could do things we can’t do now. It works by different rules than ours; it’s all about circles. The magic keeps on going in loops; it’s constantly strengthening and reinforcing itself. That’s what you can hear down there “ the rumbling of the Old Magic, still winding away somewhere, holding all the tunnels and Hogwarts together.”
“What happens if it stops?” asked Kevin, looking apprehensive.
“I don’t know. Everything falls apart? Don’t worry, I doubt it’s in danger of stopping.”
“Mmph,” said Kevin. He turned to Charlie and Tonks. “So you really can hear it? I thought he was going to have us all lie down and then laugh at us. I guess I’ll have to try, then.” He lay down and pressed his ear to the stone.
Tonks did the same, listening once more to the comforting rumble, and then sat up and turned to Bill. “What happened?” she asked. “Why was Grindelwald here?”
“Well, I don’t know the whole story,” said Bill. “I tried to look it up, but there’s surprisingly little information about Grindelwald’s defeat. The books go on and on about the war, and the various battles, and then they’ll stick in a paragraph or so in which they say that Dumbledore and a group of his supporters defeated Grindelwald near Hogwarts, and then they go straight on with the descriptions of what happened after he was defeated. So I only know what Professor Emrys told me.”
“So what did he tell you?” prompted Tonks, more because she was hoping for another of Bill’s stories than because she was curious.
“Grindelwald came to Hogwarts looking for the Founder’s ring,” Bill began, his voice taking on the low and husky tone that Tonks had come to associate with his stories. “Back when Hogwarts had just been started, the founders made a ring.
“Without wands, all sorts of little spells, the ones you use everyday, would be a lot more complicated. They used to have to perform an entire ceremony just to start a fire! So they used magic a lot less than we do now, and when they used it, it was for more important things.
“It was a bit dangerous, too “ when you make such strong spells, without a wand, it takes a little bit out of you. If you tried to do something that took too much magic, you’d get weaker and weaker, but if you were in the middle of a spell you probably wouldn’t notice it right away. A lot of wizards died when they tried to do something that required more magic than they had; they just kept on pouring and pouring their magic in, and then suddenly there just wasn’t anymore left to pour in.”
“What happened then?” asked Kevin, after a moment.
“They died,” said Bill.
He paused, and Tonks shivered. The light from their wands wavered on the cold stone walls of the cave, and for a moment Tonks felt as if she could almost see the shadowy forms of wizards dancing a stately death-dance around a flickering fire.
“That’s why really powerful objects “ Merlin’s staff and Sigrlami’s sword and the Mirror of Narcissus “ are so rare,” Bill continued. “Only the most powerful wizards could risk taking that much magic out of themselves, and even those that were strong enough didn’t always want to risk placing so much of themselves into a single object.”
“Why did they, then?” Tonks asked, fascinated. “Why would they take that risk if they could just keep their magic?”
“Lots of reasons,” Bill answered. “Using a magical object was easier than using raw magic “ it’s why we use wands. Fighting with magic took a lot of energy, so if you had a magic sword that could block spells, you were one step ahead of the fellow who was going through all the work to perform the long incantations and throw spells at you. Or once you had made a magic mirror, you wouldn’t have to do complicated spells every time you wanted to do something that the mirror could do. And I suppose some wizards wanted to make something that would be passed down from generation to generation “ something for other people to remember them by.
“Because making magical objects took so much magic, some wizards would work together; that way they could each put less magic in, and still make something really powerful. Only that was dangerous too, because when you share magic like that, you leave yourself really vulnerable to the other person; you can only do it with someone you completely trust.
“That’s what the four founders did. Three of the four founders, actually. They decided to make a ring, a ring that would show whoever wore it how to do the thing that person thought was more important than anything else in the world. They meant to use it for good, to unite the wizarding world, end wars and suffering.”
“Bet you anything it was Slytherin who didn’t help,” muttered Kevin sarcastically.
“You lose,” said Bill, to everyone’s surprise. “It was Hufflepuff who refused. She thought that the task was impossible, and it shouldn’t be done because it would be too easy to be used wrongly. If it fell in the hands of the wrong person, it might be used to separate the world instead of uniting it, or to put a single person into power. The other three founders wouldn’t listen to her “ they were so sure that they could do it, and do it right, that they went on and made the ring without her help.
“Each of the three put in their own magic, and with it their greatest strengths. The ring was meant to cause change, and it was filled with the ambition, courage, and wisdom necessary to do so, but it didn’t have the kindness and impartiality that Hufflepuff might have brought. The entire story might have been different if Hufflepuff had helped, but maybe she was right and her help wouldn’t have made a difference, because the plan was flawed from the start. It was flawed because the founders themselves were flawed “ they were wonderful wizards, but they were still only people.
“They made the ring right here, in this room, the oldest and most magical part of Hogwarts. It was a huge ceremony, and took hours and hours and hours of concentration and magic, but finally they had almost finished it. For the last step of the spell, the ring had to be on someone’s finger. It was Ravenclaw’s ring, and Gryffindor was doing the last part of the spell, so they gave the ring to Slytherin.
“The ring wasn’t finished yet, but when Slytherin put it on he saw a vision of the world that he thought would be perfect. In the vision, magic was everything and the wizards didn’t have to hide because there were no Muggles to see them.
“He also saw what he must do to make this perfect world, and his friend “ his best friend “ Gryffindor, the champion of the oppressed and the protector of the Muggles, stood in his way.
“Something of what Slytherin was thinking must have shown on his face, because Gryffindor suddenly became afraid. For the first time, he wondered if they had made a mistake in making the ring. Who was to say that anyone’s vision of a perfect world would be right “ even if that person was good and wanted only the best? They had thought that the ring was safe as long as they kept it out of the hands of the wrong people, but he realized for the first time that perhaps it wasn’t safe, even in his own hands.
“So, as he watched Slytherin’s temptation, Gryffindor tried to pull the magic “ the melded magic of two wizards and a witch “ out of the ring. But magic is like anything else “ it doesn’t permit a vacuum. When the magic was pulled out of the ring, something else had to fill the empty space. The ring was on Slytherin’s finger and the spell by which they had been putting their magic into it wasn’t finished yet, so some of Slytherin’s magic flowed into the ring. At the time Slytherin was full of his own ambition, and so the magic dragged into the ring was tainted by his hatred of Muggles.
“The ring was left weaker, and even more flawed than it had been before. Some of the original spell remained “ it will show you your greatest ambition, and a way in which you might achieve it. But that path may not be the right one, and whatever it is, it will have consequences “ most likely consequences that will badly affect Muggles.
“Slytherin could feel Gryffindor pulling the magic from the ring, and he could feel his own magic slipping away from him. Perhaps his thoughts were influenced by the ring he was wearing, but he thought that Gryffindor was betraying him “ that Gryffindor had created the ring in an attempt to pull his magic from him and weaken him. He attacked Gryffindor, both to take revenge and to take the first step in his attempt to purify the world.
“As they began to fight, Gryffindor ripped the ring from Slytherin’s finger, and it fell to the ground unnoticed. Ravenclaw took it away and hid it. She couldn’t destroy it “ it was linked to her own magic, and Gryffindor’s, and Slytherin’s, and the Old Magic which holds the entire school together. Destroying it would rip the entire school apart, so she hid it deep in the tunnels. She never told anyone where she hid it except for her son; the knowledge was passed down among her heirs.
“As Ravenclaw hid the ring, Hufflepuff tried to separate the two enemies who had once been best friends. She convinced them to work together for the sake of the students and the school, but they never trusted each other again. They began to fight, all the time, over everything. What should be taught and who should teach them and who should be accepted into the school. They couldn’t agree, and the school was split into four different houses. Even then they continued to fight, and eventually Slytherin, feeling that the other three founders were working against him, left.
“The ring disappeared for over a thousand years, until Grindelwald somehow discovered that it was hidden underneath Hogwarts. He came to Hogwarts to claim it, entering the tunnels through a secret entrance. Dumbledore came down to stop him, with only a few supporters and a handful of students, mostly sixth and seventh years. Professor Emrys was a fifth year at the time, but he went, and so did McGonagall and Hagrid.
“Grindelwald was defeated, but somehow the ring was lost. Perhaps someone found it and stole it, or it may still be in the tunnels somewhere, lying forgotten in a dark crevice. The magic of the tunnels will block any searching spell, so there’s no way to tell. For all we know, it could be right here in the room with us.”
Tonks stared at the stone walls, wondering if the ring could be hidden somewhere in the ornate carving, while Bill stood up from where he had been sitting on the floor. “And that’s all,” he announced, his voice taking on its normal tone once more, becoming Bill once more. “Are you ready to go? It’s getting late.”
Kevin was looking around, wide-eyed. “And you tell us about the ring now?” he asked. “We could have been looking for it all this time, instead of some cave full of dragons, or a mysterious package that Dumbledore might have hidden in some room.”
“You think we’re more likely to find a ring that could be absolutely anywhere than a package that’s in a room we’ve seen before?” demanded Tonks.
“Anyway, would you really want to find the ring?” asked Charlie. “It doesn’t sound like it’s the kind of thing we want anything to do with. Personally, I’ll take dragons, thank you very much.”
“Aw, it’s just a ring. It probably doesn’t do half of the stuff you said it could,” said Kevin. “How do you know all this, anyway? You’re always saying that Gryffindor felt, or Slytherin thought “ there’s no way you could know all that.”
“It’s a story, Kevin,” said Tonks. “It wouldn’t have been nearly as good if he had told only the exactly true parts.”
Bill grinned. “For all you know, it’s completely fictitious and I made the whole thing up. Think what you like. Now, anyone who wants to go back had better come now, because I have a Potions essay to write, and I’m taking this ball of string with me. So unless you want to sleep down here tonight…”
“Ha! Not likely!” interrupted Kevin. “Rumbling stone walls, dragons guarding treasure, destructive magic rings “ let’s go back.”
Their journey back was uneventful, with much talk of dragons and rings, but no actual sightings. There was a frightening moment right outside the entrance to the tunnels when they thought they were about to be accosted by Professor Snape, but it turned out to be little Professor Snith, their fluttery and fussy Herbology Professor. She twittered something unintelligible at them as she went by, robe askew and wispy hair flying. Tonks let out one muffled snort before Kevin stepped on her foot, and then managed to contain her laughter until the professor had turned the corner.
Her giggles were contagious, and they were still laughing as they clambered past the disgruntled Fat Lady into the common room. Flopping on a large couch next to Justine and Marianne, Tonks thought contentedly that it was lovely to have friends.
Her enthusiasm lasted until the next day when, on the way from Transfigurations to Potions, her shoelace came untied. Marianne and Justine continued down the corridor without a break in their conversation; Tonks glared at their retreating backs.
Charlie and Kevin would have waited, she thought in annoyance. I think. As usual, her anger made her clumsy, and it took her several tries to get her shoe properly tied. By the time she had finished, Justine and Marianne had already turned the corner. Biting her lip, Tonks was considering whether to chase them or to continue alone to Potions at a normal speed, when she heard a voice through a nearby door.
What caught her attention was not the words, but the voice itself. It was odd “ not rough or smooth, neither high nor low. It gave no clue as to the age, or even the gender of the speaker. The voice was notable for its complete anonymity.
“How far have you checked?” it asked.
“It’s so hard to keep track of things,” came the response. There was no question about this voice; it was obviously a girl. Her voice was rather nasal, with a barely concealed whine. “I’ve been trying and trying, but I can hardly find time to get down without getting caught, and when I do I have to hurry. It’s hard to keep directions in your head when you’re hurrying around in the dark.”
“How far have you checked?” repeated the voice. Tonks could not identify what about it had changed, but it sounded harsher now, more menacing.
“I’ve drawn it out, the best I could.” The girl sounded both frightened and annoyed. “It’s awfully hard in the dark, but I did my best.”
There was a long pause.
“The spiral room. You’ve gotten as far as the spiral room. I’ve checked farther than that myself.”
“I’ve done my best,” the girl whined. “I’ll keep on trying, but it’s difficult. I don’t have that much time.”
“You had best make time,” responded the voice. “Do I need to remind you why?”
“No.” The girl sounded frightened again, and resentful.
“Don’t forget.” The voice was heavy with warning. “If you find it, don’t try to do anything “ only mark the location, and come get me immediately.
“Don’t you want me to try and take it?”
“No! Don’t touch it “ just tell me, as soon as you can without being conspicuous. You can go now. For all your talk of not having enough time, you seem to spend enough time doing nothing.”
Swift footsteps approached the door. Tonks looked around wildly; she did not have enough time to hide. She barely had enough presence of mind left to concentrate on her hair and her nose “ the two parts of her body that came the most easily to her.
When the person came out of the door, Tonks had red hair and a very large nose; she hoped that they were distinctive enough that no one would pay any attention to her other features.
Upon seeing Tonks, the figure stopped in dismay. It was a young girl. She looked like a student; an older student, but definitely not an adult. Long years of being a metamorphmagus had made Tonks very observant of people’s appearances; now she noted the girl’s sallow face carefully so that she would be sure to recognize her again.
“What are you doing here?” the girl demanded, her voice high and nervous.
“I was tying my shoe,” Tonks explained lamely, gesturing and trying to look innocent.
She probably did not succeed “ she had never been good at looking innocent, especially when she wasn’t. The girl’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, but she did not say anything else, only turned on her heel and flounced off.
Tonks would have liked to see if the other person was still in the room, but she did not dare. She was halfway down the hall before she checked her watch and realized that she was late to Potions. She dashed down the corridor and into the dungeons, remembering only at the last minute to change her nose and hair back to their usual appearance.
Snape sneered at her and took five points from Gryffindor. To her dismay, the class seemed to be working in pairs; typically, Ninette was the only one without a partner. Snape gestured, and with a sigh Tonks went over to Ninette to battle her way through the lesson.
The class fully lived up to her expectations by being perfectly dreadful. Ninette was as perfect and aloof as ever, and carried out the instructions to the letter. Tonks wrinkled her nose as she watched her partner delicately drop in exactly fifteen black-beetle eyes, stirring counter-clockwise between each. As Ninette added the perfectly diced tubeworms, Tonks amused herself with various calamities that could befall her perfect partner. Unfortunately, none of them seemed forthcoming. Ninette’s hair was bound back in a neat braid, and was hardly likely to fall into the potion. Neither did she spill the leech juice all over the front of her robe. Tonks, on the other hand, was not so lucky.
“She never smiles and she never makes a mistake!” Tonks wailed to Charlie and Kevin, holding her sticky robe away from her body. “She’s about as friendly as a flobberworm, and I’ve never even seen her sneeze!”
Her friends’ responses were far from satisfactory. Charlie made an unsuccessful attempt to hide his grin. “Shouldn’t that be ‘as unfriendly as a flobberworm?’” challenged Kevin.
Leaving them laughing, Tonks marched to her dormitory to change her robes.
Tonks split her friendship fairly evenly between Charlie and Kevin, Justine and Marianne. In both groups she felt somewhat like a third wheel; they accepted her, but also seemed content in their own company. She gravitated between the two, and enjoyed each for different reasons. Justine and Marianne satisfied that part in her which needed whispers and giggles and time spent before bed planning the next day; Charlie and Kevin were playmates with whom she could go adventuring. She was not entirely satisfied, but she did well enough, and she reminded herself that most people were not lucky enough to find single best friends who fulfilled all their needs. In any case, there was no question as to with whom she would share the conversation she had overheard.
She interrupted Charlie and Kevin in the middle of a game of Exploding Snap that evening. She looked for Bill as well, but he was nowhere to be seen. As she told her story, she tried to invest it with the intensity and meaning that always filled Bill’s stories. She thought she did fairly well, but when she finished the boys did not look the least bit intrigued.
“So you heard two people talk about something they were looking for?” asked Kevin with raised eyebrows. “What’s the point? I think you missed the punch line.”
Tonks stamped in frustration. “Don’t you see?” she demanded. “The girl mentioned keeping track of things and finding her way in the dark and making a map “ they must have been referring to the tunnels. They’re looking for something down there “ and I think it’s the ring.”
This statement did not have the effect she had hoped for. Kevin and Charlie exchanged a wry look. “Very logical,” drawled Kevin sarcastically to Charlie. “She hears two people discussing a lost object “ therefore someone is out to find and steal the Founder’s ring, which Bill just happened to tell us about last night, and which probably isn’t even there. For all we know it doesn’t even exist!”
“I think it exists,” Charlie said seriously. “But I don’t think there’s any reason to believe whatever they’re looking for is anything they’re not allowed to have. We don’t even know who these people are, Tonks. And even if they were talking about the tunnels, they have as much right to be there as us. Probably more, actually.”
“True,” Kevin laughed, then waved his cards under Charlie’s nose. “It’s your go. You can play next round, Tonks, if you want.”
Angrily, Tonks turned on her heel and hurried towards the stairs to her dormitory.
“Don’t be mad, Tonks,” Charlie called after her, in a cajoling voice. “You can play this round “ we’ll deal you in.”
Tonks ignored him; running into the dormitory, she threw herself onto her bed. Angry as she was, she could hardly blame them; now that she looked at her argument herself it was paltry and unconvincing.
All the same, she was convinced. They had not heard the two voices, or felt the sense of urgency in the air. The girl had been afraid of the other person “ Tonks was sure there was something more at stake than a simple possession dropped in a corridor.
It was not long before Justine and Marianne came in, Marianne in the middle of a complicated story involving somebody’s cousin and a bushel of frogs. Tonks joined them in their usual evening gathering on Marianne’s bed, only half paying attention. She briefly amused herself with the ludicrous thought of Marianne venturing down into a dark tunnel, and Justine crawling around on hands and knees looking for a ring.
That night she dreamt of running through the tunnels in a vain effort to save the ring from a dark, mysterious figure cloaked in black.
Purpurea and Peverells by Ennalee
Author's Notes:
Once again, I must apologize for how long this chapter has been in coming. The rest of the story is mostly written, so if everything goes as planned, future updates will be closer together. Thanks for sticking with me, and thanks also to my beta, hermionedancr, who is willing to spend hours (literally) going over each chapter with me.
Leaning back in his chair, Charlie was laughing. His mouth was open in a wide grin, making him dangerously close to ingesting the sticky purple substance trickling down his face, but he did not appear to care. Next to him Tonks and Kevin were less pleased with their current state of stickiness, but as Charlie continued to laugh, Tonks, running her purple hand through her slimy hair, began giggling as well. Finally Kevin threw up his hands in despair, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“This is disgusting, Tonks,” he complained. “Next time we do anything that involves puncturing, I’m sitting at the other end of the greenhouse. No, I take that back. Next time, you’re sitting at the other end of the greenhouse. By yourself. Without anything that might explode, or anything to poke it with.”
“You know,” replied Tonks, still laughing, “Purple’s a good color for you. You should wear it more often.”
“Oh, really? Should I keep the slime in the hair as well? Because I think that adds a great touch, don’t you? Next thing we know, everyone will be using sap for their hair! You should go for pink, though “ purple makes you look peaky.”
Tonks gave him a withering glance, but was prevented from making a retort by the appearance of the Herbology professor.
“Oh, dear!” twittered little Professor Snith, her graying hair sticking up in wisps as she made her way through the crowded greenhouse. “Oh, dear!” The students stopped their work and moved aside to let her pass, preparing themselves for entertainment. It was the professor’s first year at Hogwarts, but the student body had already discovered that she was easily flustered, even by such minor incidents as misdirected slime from a Pituita Purpurea.
Now the professor had reached the table of the catastrophe. “Dear, dear…” her voice trailed off as she surveyed her splattered students. “I thought I told you “ oh, dear me, what a mess “ you only have to puncture “ only puncture the bulb, don’t squeeze it. If you have sensitive skin, it might leave a rash… Oh, dear me, it’s all over the place!” Her voice had grown quite shrill, and she was twisting her hands agitatedly in front of her.
“Sorry, Professor,” Tonks gasped, attempting to curb her smile.
Professor Snith frowned back “ an anxious, tentative frown. “Perhaps you should go to the Hospital Wing. The sap shouldn’t hurt, but in cases of sensitive skin “ one really oughtn’t to take chances, oughtn’t one? Perhaps you’d better… But I already sent Lillian Carew to the Hospital Wing today, and I wouldn’t want Madam Pomfrey to think me careless. One tries so hard, you know, and I can’t help… It’s just so difficult…” She broke off, looking undecided, and waved her wand. The slime gathered itself together and flew into the basin in which they were supposed to be collecting it.
With a quick, jerky movement she clamped her hand around Kevin’s wrist and bent close, inspecting it. Kevin’s face wrinkled in distaste as he leaned away from the wisps of hair threatening to fly into his face.
“I don’t see a rash “ no “ perhaps it’ll be alright. You’ll tell me if anything happens, won’t you?” The three students nodded, suppressing smiles. “One must be so careful, you see. One wouldn’t like to take chances. It’s so hard to keep order, so…so difficult “ and yet if anything happens I wouldn’t want to be blamed.” She paused, lost in indecision again. “Perhaps you really ought to go down…”
Kevin interrupted her, assuring her that they’d go down if they felt the slightest bit harmed by their encounter with the slime; at last, seeming somewhat reassured, she left the table. The class returned to work with furtive giggles and grins. Charlie, reaching across the table to pick up a new Pituita Purpurea, looked up and caught Ninette’s eye. She was staring at him, as she had been staring at him through the whole encounter.
Immediately Ninette ducked her head and looked back at her own Pituita Purpurea. She could not stop watching them: laughing Charlie with his quick smile; wry, skeptical Kevin; and especially Tonks “ loud, clumsy Tonks, who was all the things Ninette herself was not. She wondered what it would be like to be able to cover someone with purple slime and then to laugh about it.
Another burst of laughter floated over from the table next to her, and she was not able to stop herself from glancing up again. Charlie had somehow procured a long blade of Slithering Snodgrass and was leaning across the table to tickle Tonks under her chin.
Ninette smiled, for a moment caught up in their happiness, and then the longing set back in. She turned away and neatly punctured her Pituita Purpurea. Purple slime poured out in a steady stream. Watching it, she wondered if any of the laughing students at the other table would ever be willing to be friends “ and even if they were, if she would know how to be friends back. She knew even less about having friends than she did about making them.
That was the problem, she thought rather bitterly. She did not know how to do anything besides dance.
The once taut pod was now empty of fluid, and her bowl was nearly half full. She picked up another plant. Staring down at her hands, she watched as they completed their task efficiently: white hands against green pod, going sedately about their business as if nothing in the world was wrong. They could have belonged to anyone. They might have been the hands of a doll. She might have been a doll herself, she thought, sitting unnoticed in the middle of the chattering Gryffindors and Ravenclaws.
Tonks’ table was still laughing. At the table on her other side, Justine and Marianne sat with Ben and Niles, the other two Gryffindor boys. Seeing Ninette watching her, Marianne flashed a quick smile. Following her friend’s gaze, Justine looked up as well. She gave Ninette a cool, dismissive glance before leaning over to whisper something to Marianne, who giggled. Ninette looked away quickly, back to the two Ravenclaws with whom she shared a table, while her doll hands went on piercing and squeezing, piercing and squeezing, releasing a fine and continual stream of sap into the basin.
An icy stream of air interrupted her thoughts as the greenhouse door swung open. The girl who entered was an older student, perhaps sixth or seventh year, who Ninette did not recognize. It had started snowing again; there was snow in the girl’s hair, and her thin face was red from the wind. The door slammed shut, and Ninette heard a sharp intake of breath from behind her.
“Professor Snith?” The girl’s voice was high and tight.
“Miss Rosier?” Professor Snith looked taken aback. “What can…? That is… Can I help you?”
The girl scowled, scuffing the toe of her boot against the greenhouse floor. “Professor Kettleburn sent me to ask for more cuttlefruit for the fire crabs.”
“Oh… I see…” Professor Snith trailed off. “I’m not entirely sure “ that is, I’ll have to check. One doesn’t keep a lot of it around, you know. It’s so difficult when people make such constant demands…” As she spoke, she made her way back through the greenhouse towards the storage rooms, her voice fading away entirely as she disappeared through the door.
The class sat in amused silence. The girl at the door fidgeted, continuing to scrape her foot back and forth against the uneven stones of the floor. At last Professor Snith returned, holding an armful of roots. She was on the verge of handing them to the girl, but then paused. “Perhaps “ might it be better “ would you like a package? That is, I could “ if you want, of course “ wrap them up for you. So you wouldn’t get dirt on your robes, you know…”
The girl made no answer, and with a sigh Professor Snith waved her wand; a clean white cloth wrapped itself around the roots and tucked itself in tidily at the edges. She handed the fresh package to the girl and stepped back, eyeing it tentatively. “Perhaps that will be “ I hope it holds… Well, then, Miss Rosier, as long as you don’t need “ that is “ is there anything else?”
“No, thank you, Professor,” replied Miss Rosier sullenly. Holding the package firmly against her chest, she turned on her heel and left the greenhouse. A blast of cold air hit the students as the door opened, and Professor Snith wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. As the door closed, the words “so difficult,” were evident in the moment of silence before everyone returned to their plants.
The two Ravenclaw girls across from Ninette bent over their project, speaking to each other quietly. Automatically Ninette returned to her own plant, but once again her attention wandered to the table behind her.
“It was her, ” Tonks was insisting vehemently. “That was the girl I saw come out of the room.”
“And?” Kevin sounded exasperated. “Tonks, she’s allowed to be in a room. She’s allowed to have a conversation you don’t understand. You’re jumping to conclusions.”
“But they mentioned tunnels“” began Tonks, before she was quieted by the boys. Their voices then dropped to a whisper, and Ninette returned her attention to her hands. Pierce the bulb. Squeeze and release. Squeeze. Release. Just like a doll.
She was surprised when everyone around her stood up, chattering as they left the greenhouse. She rose quickly and gathered her own things to follow, but a voice stopped her.
“Miss Fairchild?” Professor Snith stammered, looking even wispier than usual. “Miss Fairchild? I thought perhaps… Might I talk with you for a few moments? You needn’t worry; I won’t make you late. I thought “ perhaps just a moment?”
Ninette nodded and put her things down, waiting for her teacher to go on.
“I saw “ that is, I couldn’t help but notice it, you understand. One tries not to be too nosy. One tries not to interfere. But it’s so difficult, you know, and one does notice things.” The tip of her nose had become slightly pink in her exertion.
Ninette waited for her to go on, but Professor Snith was waiting for encouragement. “Yes?” she questioned, at last.
Her teacher looked gratified. “It’s difficult, you see “ I’ve wondered for so long “ I’m not sure at all that it’s entirely proper to ask one’s students about their families, and one does try so hard to be proper. But sometimes one simply can’t help oneself, and from the moment you first entered the greenhouse, I couldn’t help but notice the resemblance.”
Reaching out hesitantly, she touched Ninette’s hair with trembling fingers. “It’s the hair I noticed first of all. You look so like her, I couldn’t help but ask. You do understand, don’t you?”
“So like whom?” Ninette asked, fixing her eyes on the woman in front of her.
“Why, Cynthia Fairchild, of course. Cynthia Fairchild, the dancer. Are you any relation?”
For a moment Ninette stopped breathing as two worlds collided before her. How could this woman “ this witch, a professor at Hogwarts “ speak of her mother, the mysterious figure whom even her aunt hardly mentioned? Her mind was still grappling with the sheer discontinuity when she heard her own voice reply, politely and emotionlessly. “She was my mother.”
“Of course she was!” Professor Snith twittered delightedly. “I knew it, from the moment you walked in. One does notice things, and that hair was unmistakable. And those eyes! You really couldn’t be anyone other than her daughter!”
“Did you know my mother?” Ninette heard herself asking in the same level voice.
Professor Snith twittered. “Cynthia Fairchild? My dear, one simply doesn’t know people like that. She was a dancer “ a famous dancer. I met her once or twice, but she wouldn’t have had a place in her world for someone like me! No, it was your father I knew.”
“My father?” Whatever had kept her voice calm before was gone now “ her words came out in a funny, half-choked gasp.
“Oh, yes, and never have I met a more charming man than Cecil Peverell. He was younger than me, of course, but ever so kind, even if some people did say “ well, he was such a handsome man. They made a lovely couple, with him so dark and her so light “ everyone noticed. Of course, there was the trouble with your father’s family “ didn’t approve of him marrying a dancing girl. They had hoped he would marry well, despite“ Well, his poor mother never did recover from the shame of it. Caused quite a scandal, but there you are.” She lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug, casually dismissing the ways of the world.
“How did you know my father?” Ninette asked, aware that she had never spoken so much to a teacher, knowing that she was pushing the limits of the politeness her aunt had taught her “ yet unable to pass up this chance to learn about a man her aunt refused to speak of.
Inexplicably, Professor Snith began to blush. “Why, one does meet people,” she stammered. “One tries so hard to be social, and of course I was never on the same level as his family “ after all, he was a Peverell “ but he was always so charming. And so kind! Not many handsome young men will condescend to pay attention to someone… well, older, but your father was always different from the other young men.” She smiled, cheeks still pink. “Always a bit wild “ he used to frighten me, he was so wild. But then, one does like a bit of wildness, and it had to be expected, what with his brother being so serious and studious. Head boy, your uncle was “ brilliant man, knew more about Potions than any man in England, some people say “ and poor Cecil must have wanted to prove something to the world.”
“My father was a wizard?”
Professor Snith stared. “You mean… Why, I hardly know what to say! You don’t know your father, then?”
“I don’t remember him at all,” said Ninette steadily. “Was he a wizard?”
“My dear child, the Peverell family goes back practically to Merlin! You really didn’t know? I am terribly sorry to intrude “ I never guessed that… Do you mean to say that you’ve never had any contact with him?”
Ninette shook her head.
“No letters, no birthday presents, nothing at all? Why, that hardly seems like Cecil, to go off without a trace. Of course, I knew he had left England, but I assumed “ that is… One cannot help but wonder what happens to one’s old friends. You understand, don’t you? And I always wondered, when Cecil left…” Breaking off, she flushed to the end of her nose before continuing abruptly in a different strain. “You have your mother’s name, don’t you? Fairchild “ such a pretty name. But “ one doesn’t want to presume, but it is so difficult, you see. Might I ask why you didn’t take your father’s? It’s hardly a name to be ashamed of, though not quite as recognized as it used to be.”
When Ninette remained silent Professor Snith went on, the blush continuing to darken her face. “This must seem presumptuous to you, I know, but I can’t help but wonder… Were your parents ever married?” Dark eyes peered keenly through the wisps of hair that floated across her face.
Wordlessly, Ninette shook her head.
Professor Snith looked back at her sharply. “So after he left, he made no contact?” she probed.
Ninette looked down.
“My dear child,” said Professor Snith, placing her warm hand on Ninette’s own.
The warmth of the touch seemed to spread through Ninette’s body “ she could not remember the last time someone had touched her on purpose, apart from dancing. It gave her a sudden surge of strength, and she looked into Professor Snith’s dark eyes and asked, “Please, will you tell me about my father?”
Professor Snith smiled at her, a warm, welcoming smile. “I would be happy to talk about Cecil,” she said. “I’m afraid, though, that I have already made you late for your next class. One hates to be an inconvenience, but… perhaps another time?”
Startled, Ninette glanced at the clock on the wall and saw that she was indeed five minutes late for Charms. She leaned down to gather up her things, and Professor Snith bent down to help her. “Anytime, Miss Fairchild,” she said. “Come by the greenhouse when I don’t have a class, and I would be delighted “ simply delighted “ to talk to you.”
“Thank you,” said Ninette softly, and stepped out into the swirling snow.
The Mysterious Miss Rosier by Ennalee
Author's Notes:
As you can see, I'm following up on my promise to post more quickly from now on. Thanks as always to my wonderful beta, hermionedancr.
“It’s almost midnight,” said the dark-haired man with a scowl.
“Hurry, then,” growled his companion, continuing to levitate boxes down the cliff. “The boat is leaving at one, with all the cargo. They’re so busy patrolling the Floo network and Apparation points “ they’ll never expect us to do it the Muggle way.”
“What about the girl?”
Gwendolyn froze, still crouching behind the bush. Had she been seen?
“Never mind her. She’s just a kid. If she comes poking around, do whatever you need to.”
The hook-nosed man laughed nastily. “Fine, then. It’ll teach her to be so nosy! There, that’s the last of the boxes.”
Mounting their brooms, the two men flew down the cliff to the boat waiting below. Behind the bush, Gwendolyn grasped her wand. They were about to escape with all of the jewels, and she was the only one who could stop them! The wind whipped her long strawberry-blonde hair into her face, but she ignored it, looking around for ideas. There! Lying under a nearby tree was her broom. They must have forgotten about it when they left.
With a sigh, Tonks closed her book. Usually she would have been enthralled by the conclusion of the harrowing mystery, but today she found it oddly depressing. Despite the certainty of all her friends that absolutely nothing was amiss, Gwendolyn had not only discovered that Lady Auburn’s jewels were missing but tracked the thieves as they made their getaway. In the final two chapters, she would single-handedly capture the thieves and be praised by all for her level-headed thinking. Tonks knew, because she had read the summary of the next book, in which Gwendolyn McBane was invited to Lady Auburn’s Swiss Chalet, and how likely was that if she was murdered by jewel thieves?
Flipping ahead to the last chapter, Tonks skimmed quickly over the page.
“Gwendolyn!” exclaimed Wesley. “You’re safe! And you caught them!”
Beaming, Lady Auburn rushed towards her. “You saved my jewels!”
“I couldn’t let them get away with it,” said Gwendolyn modestly. “I know how much they mean to you.”
Opening one of the cases, Lady Auburn pulled out an emerald ring. “Not all of them,” she said. “But this one “ this was the last thing my Antonio gave me, before he disappeared. Oh, my dear! I cannot thank you enough!”
Tonks scowled. It looked like Gwendolyn would be finding Antonio in the next book, and then would again be lavished with praise. The books always began with everyone criticizing Gwendolyn for her suspicions, but in the end she was always proved right and showered with congratulations. Being showered in congratulations, Tonks thought, must be an awfully nice feeling.
Unfortunately, her own personal mystery seemed to be stuck in a rut. Though she was sure that the girl in the greenhouse “ Miss Rosier, Professor Snith had called her “ was involved in an attempt to steal the Founder’s Ring from where it had been lost in the tunnels, Charlie and Kevin were adamant in their refusal to be concerned “ to the point where Kevin had taken to pointedly twiddling his thumbs pointedly every time she brought up the subject.
Nevertheless, Tonks was certain that something was wrong, and who knew what would happen were the thief to get hold of the Founder’s Ring? She refused to let her friends’ criticism daunt her, promising herself that they would come around once she was proved right. Instead, she had focused on trying to identify the potential thief. However, this proved as difficult as convincing her friends that there was a thief to be identified in the first place.
Where Gwendolyn was always finding suspicious footprints, or over-hearing midnight conversations, or being mistaken for someone else and being asked to relate cryptic messages, Tonks had found no such convenient clues. She had even done her best to disguise herself as the mysterious Miss Rosier for a few hours, wandering around the castle and waiting for the mysterious thief to talk to her, to no avail. Then again, her representation had not been good; copying someone’s appearance out of a picture was hard enough, much less working from memory.
She was about to return to her book when she heard familiar voices coming from the staircase to the boy’s dormitory. Watching Kevin and Charlie descend, she felt a surprising pang in the pit of her stomach. As unreasonable as she knew it was, she found herself suddenly jealous of all the time they spent together without her. It hurt, sometimes, being the third wheel in both of her groups of friends.
“Full of Muggles, of course,” Charlie was saying. “And Mum takes one look at them and turns us all right back around again! And one of them says, ‘Only fancy! An orphanage!’ Mum gets this look “ you know, the look “ on her face, but keeps on walking. Then we get outside, and she realizes that Dad isn’t there anymore “ he was inside, asking them all questions about escapators and levators.”
Kevin was wheezing with laughter. Tonks frowned, feeling left out. Charlie’s stories about his large family were always enjoyable, and Kevin had certainly heard a great deal more than she had. He was, after all, Charlie’s best friend; she was just their second choice.
Charlie looked up and saw her staring at them. “Hey, Tonks,” he said brightly. “Kevin and I were going to go exploring. Want to come with?”
‘Going exploring’ had become their code term for excursions to the tunnels. Tonks, liking the intrigue, had suggested ‘looking for my lost sock,’ but the boys had laughed her down. She paused a moment as the boys looked at her expectantly, debating within herself. It bothered her that they had planned to go without asking her ahead of time, and she considered turning them down to prove that she did not need to do everything they did “ she was tired of being the tag-a-long. On the other hand, if she refused they would just go without her. Also, there was always the possibility that Bill would go along. She nodded. “One moment. Let me put my book away.”
“Hurry!” called Kevin, as she sprinted up the stairs to the girl’s dormitory.
As usual, there was no sign of Ninette. Noting her absence, Tonks filed it away as a mystery to be investigated once the ring thieves had been found. Marianne and Justine, however, were curled up on the window seat, looking through old pictures and laughing. Tonks gave them a wistful glance but comforted herself with the thought that they knew nothing about the tunnels.
“Is Bill coming?” she asked as casually as possible as she clambered out of the portrait hole after Kevin and Charlie.
“He’s meeting us down there.” Charlie looked slightly disgruntled. “He made us promise not to go down without him.”
“Oh?” said Tonks, repressing her smile. Something about Bill’s presence always made exploring more fun.
“He says he’s afraid we’ll get lost and it’ll be his fault,” complained Charlie. “I think he just doesn’t want us to find anything exciting without him.”
“Well, he was the one to tell us about the tunnels,” remarked Tonks. “He didn’t have to do that.”
“It’s not like he didn’t explore them by himself when he was a first year,” Charlie retorted. “And he goes down with Chesney all the time. Why shouldn’t we go down by ourselves?”
“He does?” demanded Tonks, who had not known this, wondering why she had thought that Bill would share his knowledge of the tunnels with no one other than a few first years.
“Yeah,” answered Charlie. “He said they found a tomb, once “ had a big stone coffin in it.”
“Think you could deal with finding bones?” teased Kevin.
“Yes,” snapped Tonks. “Could you?”
“We didn’t see any bones,” came Bill’s voice from behind them. Tonks whirled around in surprise. “The lid of the sarcophagus was really heavy “ we didn’t even try and move it.”
“How very boring of you,” Kevin said.
“Hey, I’m not going to be responsible for smashing the lid of someone’s sarcophagus,” answered Bill with a smile. “How’d you like your bones left out in the open air?”
“I wouldn’t care much if I was dead,” muttered Kevin.
“Anyway, it was covered in carvings,” Bill continued. “Heavy things are hard to levitate precisely, and we didn’t want to ruin it. For all we know, those carvings could be long-lost spells, or forgotten histories!”
“How exciting!”
Bill cuffed Kevin lightly on the shoulder. “Should I leave you behind?”
“Who put you in charge?” asked Charlie. Tonks blinked at the unusual tone of his voice.
“Myself,” answered Bill lightly. “But I assure you, I am a benevolent dictator.”
Tonks giggled and nearly walked into a passing suit of armor. Jokes at her expense carried them to the tunnel entrance, but she did not mind. They were friendly jokes, and it was rather nice to be the center of attention, even if it was focused on her propensity to trip.
“I was thinking,” announced Bill, as Tonks closed her eyes and breathed in the familiar damp cave-smell, “that we should start exploring that section with the paintings of the star charts. Remember? If we’re still looking for Dumbledore’s room, that is. D’you still want to?”
“Yes!” exclaimed Tonks, before anyone else could answer. She was now more certain than ever that Dumbledore’s mysterious package had contained the Founder’s Ring, and that it was up to them to find it before the thieves did.
“I wouldn’t mind seeing that tomb,” began Kevin, but the others over-ruled him, and they set out towards the section Bill had indicated. They were beginning to know parts of the tunnels quite well, but they still wound the string out behind them; Charlie had been designated to carry it for this excursion.
The passage Bill was speaking of was painted with what looked for all the world like star charts, though all the writing carved into the walls was in Latin. Bill was the only one who had any knowledge of Latin besides that used in basic spells, and even he could not make out the inscriptions. He paused several times in their journey to examine the walls, and every time Tonks hung back with him. She enjoyed listening to him talk, and especially sharing exasperated looks with him whenever the others demanded that they hurry up.
Their wanderings took them past the star charts and into a sequence of passages that were completely unfamiliar, though fascinating nonetheless. Dumbledore’s hidden room, however, was nowhere to be found. They did find a room with walls of burnished metal, and one that tossed back echoes in a curious cacophony of sound. They came upon Tonks’ favorite room when Kevin was in the lead; he ventured through the dark doorway, wand held out before him, only to recoil with a cry of horror.
“What is it?” Tonks demanded, while Bill sprang forward to look inside. She and Charlie crowded after him, eager to see what could have elicited such a response. The room was long, fading away into darkness beyond the light of their wands, and was lined with bones. There were no skeletons, which would have been rather more disturbing, Tonks thought “ these bones were stacked in neat rows from floor to ceiling.
“I wasn’t scared,” insisted Kevin, the entire journey back. “I was just surprised.”
Tonks grinned, a smug, knowing grin that renewed his protestations. “Remember that first time, when you told me I shouldn’t come with because there might be bones?” she teased. “Just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean bones scare me.”
“They don’t scare me either,” repeated Kevin, scowling.
Tonks smiled, feeling that she had proved herself. “It’s alright, Kevin,” she said sweetly. “Plenty of people are scared of harmless things. My cousin won’t get anywhere near spiders. And Ninette won’t touch the beetle eyes in Potions “ she’s terrified of them, and they’re not even alive anymore! Of course, neither are bones. I bet she would have been terrified by that room.”
She was rather proud of herself, putting Kevin in his place after all his teasing by comparing him to Ninette, but Charlie surprised her. “What do you have against that girl?” he asked. “You’re always complaining about her.”
“She’s always so stiff and proper and perfect,” exclaimed Tonks, with a vehemence that surprised even herself. “She never talks to anyone and she doesn’t care if people hate her. And she lines her shoes up perfectly straight under her bed!”
There was a moment of silence, save for the sounds of their footsteps, and then Bill spoke. “Don’t you think that you’re being a bit hard on her?” he asked, and Tonks flushed. She had not meant to say all that at loud, and now people were defending Ninette. The warm feeling she had been feeling since they started exploring was suddenly gone, and she let the conversation go on without her, walking in silence the rest of the way back.
To make matters worse, she tripped on the stairs leading out of the tunnels, knocking against Kevin and landing hard on the stone.
“Tonks!” exclaimed Kevin in annoyance, then looked at her and stopped.
Blinking back tears of pain, Tonks was determined not to cry as she stood up, her shins stinging.
“Are you alright?” asked Kevin, and Bill and Charlie turned around looking concerned.
“I’m fine,” snapped Tonks, humiliated and still angry that they had defended Ninette. She did her best not to limp as they continued up the stairs. She was trailing behind the others on their way back to the Gryffindor tower when she heard footsteps coming towards them. To her excitement, the person who came into view was the long-haired girl from the mysterious meeting. Attempting to restrain her smile, she waited until the girl had passed to run forward and catch up with the others.
“That was her!” she whispered. “That was her!”
“Who was that?” Kevin gave her a wry look.
“That’s the girl who was talking about the tunnels! Don’t you think it’s suspicious that she’s down here?”
“Tonks,” said Kevin, shaking his head at her, “we’re down here. Is that suspicious?”
“We are not trying to steal anything!” exclaimed Tonks, feeling her temper rising.
“What’s wrong?” asked Bill, turning to look at them. “Who’s trying to steal what?”
“Tonks overheard this girl talking to somebody,” explained Kevin before Tonks could say a word. “Now she’s convinced that there’s a plot to steal the Founder’s Ring, which you oh-so-coincidentally happened to tell us about right before she heard this conversation.”
Three pairs of skeptical eyes turned to look at her.
“It sounds silly when you say it like that!” she exclaimed. “You didn’t hear them. I know something is going on. I know they’re trying to steal something from the tunnels.”
“Good luck finding something to steal,” laughed Bill. “We’re certainly not having very much luck.”
“Unless they want bones,” suggested Kevin unhelpfully.
“What about Dumbledore’s package?” demanded Tonks. “Maybe it’s not the Founder’s Ring, but Dumbledore put something valuable down there, and she’s trying to steal it!”
Bill gave her a smile that could only be described as placating. “Maybe you’re right,” he said. “We’re already doing our best to find Dumbledore’s room. We can start keeping an eye out for the girl when we’re around the tunnels.”
That was the most she could get out of them, and the look on Bill’s face was enough to keep her from pressing harder. She would show them when she had solved the mystery on her own.
In her effort to do just this, Tonks spent the next day wandering around the castle looking for the elusive girl. She finally saw her at dinner, sitting at the Ravenclaw table. Turning to an older student sitting nearby, Tonks pointed out her quarry. “Who is that?”
“Mavis Rosier. Seventh year. Prefect. Really good at Arithmancy,” responded the boy, sounding bored. “Why?”
“Nothing. Just curious.”
Her classes the next day seemed to stretch on forever, even though her Friday afternoons were free. The moment Professor McGonagall released her she made a beeline for the Ravenclaw common room. She lurked near the entrance attempting to look busy, but a Ravenclaw prefect was beginning to give her suspicious looks by the time Mavis appeared, a stack of books in hand. However, Tonks’ chase merely led her to the library, where she spent several hours pretending to work on her Potions essay while being disgusted by the diligence with which Mavis attacked her own homework.
At half past six, when hunger was close to convincing Tonks to abandon her mission, Mavis finally got up, put her books away, and left the library. Practically skipping with excitement, Tonks followed.
Mavis walked quickly down two staircases and up another, deftly skipped the treacherous vanishing step, and entered the office of Professor Greggens, who taught Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Tonks, who had been trailing at a fair distance behind so as to avoid notice, missed the beginning of their conversation, but busied herself pretending to tie her shoe next to the door.
“What about the Saeculas Ring?” Mavis was asking.
“It’s not sufficient,” responded Professor Greggens in her usual soothing voice, much to Tonks’ disappointment. “The energy created is quite powerful, but it’s bound up in an irrevocable circle, constantly re-supplying itself. There’s no way to channel it to other uses.”
“But wouldn’t that cause the two objects to become bound together?”
Professor Greggens laughed, low and warm. “That’s exactly the point! The constant flow of energy between the two objects means neither can be removed from the other. It’s the whole principle of mirror magic “ constantly reflecting something onto itself, an everlasting circle.”
“But if you wanted to harness the energy, you could break the ring, right? Some sort of Discerpum spell would probably do it.”
“Goodness, no! Breaking the ring would just cause a surge of power “ probably kill anyone within a wide radius, depending on how much energy was involved. No, that’s what I keep telling you “ you can’t harness the energy. The Saeculas Ring is completely useless for that sort of thing.”
“But then, if you want to separate the two objects, how do you do that? Isn’t there anyway to break the ring without causing the explosion of energy?”
“The thing about the Saeculas Ring “ and most mirror magic “ is that it’s incantation specific; it can be initiated by many incantations, and requires a spell based on that same incantation to end it without the backlash. Which, of course, creates a problem if the incantation is forgotten, in which case the two objects may very well be permanently connected. In fact, the modern-day Permanent Sticking Spell “ which, of course is not really permanent if you can find the right release words “ is a simplified form of the Saeculas Ring.”
There was a long pause. “Thank you, professor,” said Mavis at last, and Tonks scrambled up quickly and began walking away. After a moment or two Mavis passed her, long hair swinging back and forth as she stalked away.
Tonks sat down by the nearby statue of Emelda the Empty-Headed and tried to make sense of the conversation she had overheard. She knew very little of magical theory, but thought that the conversation was exceedingly odd. There had certainly been mention of a ring, though not the Founder’s Ring. But then again, maybe it was another name, or they were talking in code. Was Professor Greggens involved, or had Mavis just been trying to get information? Tonks was still contemplating when she saw the very disapproving Ravenclaw prefect who had been surveying her that morning heading her way.
Leaning back against the statue, she smirked. She hadn’t even done anything against the school rules today, and yet he was staring at her like she was about to start setting off fireworks in the corridor. Before he was within questioning distance, she stood up and started down the hallway.
The moment she rounded the corner she scrunched up her face in concentration. The hair was simple; it took very little effort to make it bushy and red. Her nose was next: long, with a distinctive splattering of freckles. Making herself taller was more difficult “ she could only manage an inch or two, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to sustain it for very long, but it would be enough to serve her purposes.
Hardly ten seconds later she turned in the hallway to face the astonished prefect, robbed of his quarry. As he looked around in confusion she slipped past him, back around the corner, and into the secret passage hidden behind the statue. She was leaning against the wall, giggling, when she came face to face with Kevin and Charlie, both of whom were grinning.
Still annoyed at their failure to take her seriously, she found herself even more irritated by the fact that they were having fun without her. She scowled at them. They looked so content by themselves.
“Having fun?” she asked nastily.
Charlie looked up in surprise, noticing her for the first time. “I’m sorry?” he asked. His tone was friendly but reserved, as if he was talking to a stranger.
“Do we know you?” asked Kevin, looking at her strangely.
Tonks felt blood rushing into her face as she realized that she had not yet changed back her appearance. “You know what? Forget I said anything,” she said.
“Odd,” Kevin said as she fled down the passageway.
Once she was sure they were out of site she relaxed and let her face return to its usual form. Berating herself for her own stupidity she hurried back to her dormitory. She had meant to tell them about Mavis, but now she reconsidered. Whenever she saw her friends together they were having fun. She had thought that they enjoyed her friendship, but was she really anything more than a tag-a-long?
Suddenly, all their teasing appeared in a new light. They didn’t want her, not really. They probably let her tag along to amuse themselves, and then laughed at her behind her back. Deep in the back of her mind she knew that she was being completely illogical, that Charlie and Kevin were not the type of people to do something like that. Nevertheless, imagining cruel things about Charlie and Kevin and placing herself as the ill-used heroine was much more satisfying than musing on her status as a third wheel.
When she was with them, she found it easy to pretend that she belonged; it was easy to become one of the threesome and act as if they were always together. She found that she did not like to think about the fact that Kevin and Charlie could have just as much fun without her around. Suddenly she felt superfluous and unwanted.
Stepping through the opening into the common room, she quickly located Marianne’s blond head and Justine’s dark one. They were sitting by themselves in the corner, heads close together, whispering over something. As she stared at them, Marianne looked up, caught her eye, and waved. Normally Tonks would have gone over and joined them immediately, but now she could not work up the courage. Nagging doubt lingered; perhaps they did not really want her either. They had been friends forever “ what had made her think that they wanted a third person in their perfect friendship? She lingered by the entrance, hoping that one of them would call out to her or wave her over. Marianne smiled at her again, and then looked back to Justine. Tonks climbed the steps to her room feeling bitterly vindicated.
In the dormitory, she was assailed with the mess that she had left in her hurry to tail Mavis that morning. The curtains on her bed were hanging open; somehow she had managed to fling one over the bar that held them. Her blankets were wildly askew, slipping off the bed onto the floor. The books and parchment on the floor were even more disarranged than usual, and as she headed for her bed she tripped over the stack of clothes that she had meant to clean up over the weekend, but had somehow never gotten around to.
She swore as she picked herself up from the floor, reveling in her rebellion. Untangling herself from one of her robes, she threw it at the open door of her wardrobe; she did not feel in the least remorseful when it knocked down one of Ninette’s perfectly hung robes.
She flung herself down onto her bed, gave her pillow an angry thump, and made a resolution. If they didn’t want her, then she didn’t want them. She could stand being by herself, and then maybe they would realize that they did need her after all. By then, she would have proved to everyone that she was absolutely fine by herself. She would make them beg to have her back.
Lying on her back, she formulated a fantasy in which Marianne and Justine found themselves desperately in need of her company, and Bill and Charlie and Kevin discovered that without her, the tunnels lost a great deal of their allure. She had just reached the part when she was graciously saving the boys, who had managed to get lost in the tunnels, when she was interrupted by the door swinging open.
It was Ninette. It was invariably Ninette when Tonks was feeling cross and rumpled and absolutely unloved. She stepped gracefully through the doorway and shut it behind her, and just as gracefully navigated around the piles of clothes and books. She paused before she reached her bed, and looked at Tonks. “Is something wrong?” she asked softly.
Tonks felt her cheeks burning and shook her head with a wordless glare. Silently, Ninette turned away and went to the wardrobe. After she had hung up the robe which Tonks had knocked down, she picked up Tonks’ robe and moved to hang it up as well, and Tonks lost control.
“Can’t you leave my stuff alone?” she demanded, red-faced with rage, her breath coming in angry gasps. “It’s not enough for you to keep your own stuff perfect “ you have to clean up my stuff too? You’re always trying to prove to us how good you are. Well, I’m tired of hearing it, so will you please go off and be perfect somewhere else?”
Ninette froze, her face white, Tonks’ robe limp in her hand.
Scarcely believing her own actions, Tonks crossed the room and yanked the robe out of Ninette’s grasp. They faced each other without moving for a moment. Tonks wanted nothing more than to scream at her, or perhaps throw something, but all the things which she wanted to say were caught up together in her throat, and if she threw something it would only go to further prove Ninette’s superiority. She hated Ninette in that moment, truly hated her, for being calm and dignified even when she was being yelled at, for keeping her room immaculate, for always being perfect. For neither noticing nor caring that she had no friends. For being able to be her own person, untouched by the people around her.
She felt the prickling behind her eyes that signified the beginning of tears. Turning sharply on her heel, she marched back across the room, successfully avoiding the entangling traps of clothes, and threw herself onto her bed once more, yanking the curtains closed behind her. She was still holding the crumpled up robe that she had torn from Ninette’s hands.
She lay there for several minutes, not moving, waiting to hear what Ninette would do. There was no sound. At last, she steeled herself and poked her head out of the curtains to see. Ninette was gone.
Taking Tea in Greenhouse Four by Ennalee
Author's Notes:
Thanks as always to my beta, hermionedancr, who faithfully puts up with all my quibbling.
Chapter Ten: Taking Tea in Greenhouse Four
The dancing room was large and well lit, with a sprung wooden floor and mirrors all around. Ninette had always been more comfortable there than anywhere else. Whether because it was familiar or because she could be sure of being alone, she did not know, but lately it had become her place of retreat.
She did her homework sitting by the barre, her reflection spinning out infinitely in all directions. Wingardium Leviosa was like a frappé “ “Brush ze floor quick “ quick, but strong!” Orbis was a ronde du jambe,spinning faster or slower depending on the flick of the wrist, the turn of the ankle. She understood these, the movements and memorizations which had been her life since she was six; it was a question of matching up the right motions with the right words, the piano thumping out the beat in her head: the last of the Great Giant Wars took place the year Sleeping Beauty was first performed, which was 1890, which you must always remember because that’s how many years dancers have been dancing these parts and someday it will be you and so you must practice“
When her muscles ached so that she could no longer dance, she worked on her homework, practicing wand movements and incantations; when the Latin began running together in her head, she stood at the barre and stretched. She did not think about the Gryffindor table, full of laughing students, nor of the three girls in the large room at the top of the tower where she spent as little time as possible. She did not think of smiling Charlie or sarcastic Kevin or laughing Tonks who had flown at her in anger.
She wished that she could stay in this room, mirrors and all, without having to leave its safety to go out to classes or to meals or to sleep, out in the castle where Marianne smiled and Justine taunted and Tonks pretended she did not exist. She wondered what would happen if she stopped venturing out. Would anyone notice, or care? Or would she just slowly fade, like the ghosts she had seen in the corridors and on the stairs? She would be a very quiet ghost, she thought “ not like the crying one in the girl’s bathroom or the chattering one that knocked over suits of armor. Perhaps no one would notice a silent ghost in a room full of mirrors that no one else ever looked in.
The more she practiced, the more Madame seemed to be unhappy with her dancing. “There is no spark!” she complained. “What has happened to your elevation? You must be lighter “ and tighter… You are drooping!”
During her Friday lesson, Madame stopped her after the barre exercises. “You are pale,” she said. “And you are theener. ’Ave you been ill?”
Ninette shook her head.
“’Ave you been eating? Sleeping?”
Ninette nodded.
Madame frowned at her. “You cannot dance like zis. Put on your robes. Yes, now. Go! Go!”
Obediently, Ninette pulled her robes over her leotard.
“Now go!” Madame exclaimed. “Out! Get out!”
Confused, Ninette stared at her. “I’m sorry?” she asked.
“Out of ze room!” cried Madame. “You ‘ave been too long in ze one place, I think. You weel dance no more today.”
Somehow Ninette found herself standing outside the closed door of the dancing room, her schoolbag in her hand. “Go play weeth your friends,” said Madame firmly. “Zat is what leetle girls do, yes? Go outside, maybe. ‘Ave a snowball fight. You need color in your cheeks.” Then she turned around and walked away, and Ninette was left alone in the corridor.
She wandered aimlessly through the halls for a while, watching the occasional student meander by. She had completed her homework, but dreaded both the common room and the dormitory. When she saw Justine and Marianne up ahead, she turned quickly away, hurrying down an empty corridor to escape.
Turning a corner, she collided hard with something; suddenly she found herself on the floor, tangled up with a tall, dark-haired student.
“Excuse me!” said the girl indignantly, and Ninette scrambled backward, apologizing. The girl did not reply, but busied herself gathering her dropped belongings, her dark hair swinging and nearly obscuring her sallow face. She looked vaguely familiar, but then, so did a great many of the school’s students.
Awkwardly, Ninette bent to help; the girl had already gathered her papers, but a small wooden box had landed near Ninette’s feet. Picking it up, she held it out, looking at it curiously as she did so. It was the right size to fit in the palm of her hand, carved with strange designs, and yet so light that it felt empty. She held it for scarcely a moment before the girl snatched it away, leaving the palm of Ninette’s hand tingling slightly.
Without a word the girl turned around, retreating quickly down the hall. It was the way she turned, the twitchy, restless energy of her motion, that allowed Ninette to recognize her “ it was the girl who had interrupted her Herbology class earlier that week. Spurred by the movement, Ninette’s thoughts flashed back to the events of the lesson, and Professor Snith’s surprising disclosure afterwards. Before she had even had time to think her feet had decided for her and she was halfway to the Entrance Hall.
It was snowing outside, as it had been all weekend, and the going was difficult. Shivering without her cloak, which she had not thought to fetch, Ninette stubbornly made her way down to the greenhouses. As she reached them, it occurred to her that Professor Snith was very likely not in the greenhouses, or that perhaps she had a class. Nevertheless, the wind was bitingly cold and she would at least stop inside to warm up before facing the journey back to the castle.
She was lucky “ only moments after she had stepped into Greenhouse Four, Professor Snith bustled in from the back room, looking rosy-cheeked and wispy as ever.
“Dear me!” she cried, starting in surprise to see Ninette. “Why, Miss Fairchild “ you look positively frozen! Oh, dear… whatever are you doing out without a cloak?” Ninette must have looked startled at her tone, because the Professor immediately began to apologize. “Oh, Miss Fairchild, I didn’t mean to… but you see, one does worry so. Why, if something should happen to you, I’d never… my dear, you must sit down!” With a wave of her wand the Professor conjured a chair, and before she knew it Ninette found herself sitting between rows of snapping bulrushes, covered in a warm blanket and sipping a hot cup of tea “ “Sugar? Cream?” Professor Snith had asked hesitantly, before pouring both out of her wand.
“There, dear, are you quite comfortable?” asked Professor Snith, conjuring a chair for herself.
Ninette nodded, wrapping her hands around the china cup. The dainty blue pattern of the flowers was unlike anything Aunt Edris had ever used, but it was surprisingly comforting. Leaning back into the soft chair she took a sip of tea and felt suddenly warm.
Professor Snith smiled. “I thought so. I am so happy to see you “ indeed, I was hoping you’d come by earlier! One likes so much to talk about one’s old friends… That is… You did wish to talk about your father, didn’t you?” She peered at Ninette anxiously.
“Yes, please,” Ninette stammered.
Beaming, Professor Snith reached out and took Ninette’s hand, her grasp warm and comforting. “Dear Cecil…” she said. “I was at school with his older brother, Hugh, but we never got on. Hugh was so proud of being a Peverell, you know “ and my mother was only a Muggleborn… and unmarried. And he was a Ravenclaw if I ever saw one, always with his head in a book. Cecil was different… he knew how to enjoy himself, something poor Hugh never did learn, I’m afraid. Did you “ pardon my asking “ did you know your uncle?”
Ninette, who had heard nothing of an uncle, shook her head.
“Well, I suppose he has been out of the country for a very long time “ indeed, he must have left soon after your father did! My! One does loose track of time, doesn’t one?” She sat in silence for a moment, reflecting. “But where were we? Oh, Cecil. Of course. He and I used to laugh at Hugh, for being so serious “ Hugh was always going on about the family tradition, you know, and Cecil and I thought he was ever so pompous. Indeed, Ninette“” She cut herself off with a little gasp. “Oh, my dear Miss Fairchild, I am sorry; one does slip so easily into using first names, even when it isn’t proper. Do forgive me?”
“Please,” said Ninette, “call me Ninette. I like it.”
“Really?” demanded Professor Snith. “You aren’t just saying that?”
Ninette smiled.
“Why, my dear Ninette!” exclaimed Professor Snith in excitement. “I knew there had to be some of Cecil in you! You look so like your mother, but I can see Cecil in your face when you smile. He had a lovely smile, he did “ and he was always laughing. The world was hard on him, poor dear, but he laughed back at it. I remember when he met your mother…”
“Oh!” interrupted Ninette. “Please tell me how he met my mother!”
“She was dancing in some ballet or other,” said Professor Snith reminiscently. “Giselle, I think it was. Do you know… did your mother ever dance Giselle?”
Ninette thought of the picture on her bedside table and nodded.
“Cecil had never been to the ballet. Wizards don’t know much about it, you know… I only knew because my mother loved it. We never had much money, but whenever there was a bit extra, she used to scrape it together to go to the ballet.” She laughed, a light, fluttering sort of laugh. “You must think me ever so silly, my dear, going on like this… it does bring back the memories so! How impractical it all seems now “ but then, one is never practical when looking at the things one has lost, is one?” For a moment she sat in silence, her face almost sad. Then she smiled.
“We went together, Cecil and I. He thought it was ridiculous; getting all dressed up in a Muggle suit, taking a taxi to the Opera House “ because we could hardly use Floo, could we? “ and of course he didn’t apparate. We had a box seat; I was wearing red silk “ and everywhere we went, people looked at us! Just fancy!
“Cecil kept on laughing, at the seats, at the Muggle clothes, at the lighting “ and then the curtain went up, and I have never seen a man so enthralled. From the moment Cynthia danced on, he didn’t take his eyes off her. It was love at first sight, I believe.” She paused, wistful. “One thinks it’s something that happens only in fairy tales, but then again, your mother was as beautiful as a princess, and Cecil… well, Cecil was brought up to be a prince.
“How does the ballet go? It was so long ago, and one does have trouble remembering… Do you know?”
“A prince disguises himself as a peasant, and Giselle is a village girl who falls in love with him,” said Ninette softly. She did not know her mother’s story, but she knew the stories of all the ballets her mother had ever danced in. “When she finds out that he is engaged to a princess she goes mad, and dies of a broken heart. Then the prince realizes he loved her, and the wilis “ spirits of girls who died of love before their weddings “ the wilis capture him and try to make him dance himself to death. Giselle saves him.”
“Yes, I remember! Such a sad story… Cecil was heartbroken at the end. And after! He would stop at nothing to find Cynthia. He waited at the back door until she came out, and when she saw him… Well, very few women could have helped falling in love with your father.
“They were inseparable after that “ went everywhere together. She took him to the Muggle parties, he took her to the wizarding ones. His family disapproved of her heartily; they were Peverells, of course, and for all that she was so beautiful, she was a Muggle “ and a dancing one, at that! The scandal of the wizarding world, it was. Some said their romance was what drove old Jasper Peverell to his grave!
“After Cecil’s father died, something went wrong. Jasper left more debts than anything else “ debts and a crumbling old mansion and a famous name. No one really knows what happened then. There was a fight, no question about that. Perhaps Cecil fought with Jasper, before he died, or perhaps Hugh blamed Cecil for their father’s death “ it’s not my place to say, though one can hardly help wondering. In any case, Cecil left the country, and as far as I can tell, no one’s heard from him since. Your mother went on dancing for a while, but I lost track of her “ I’m afraid I haven’t been to the ballet since Giselle. I never could muster up the courage to go without Cecil.
“But I was so sorry to hear when she died “ such a lovely woman! Tragic affair, really, the way he went off and left… But then again, that’s how it always happens with these fairytale people. Beautiful and wild and tragic, they always are. They’re far above the likes of us, you know…”
She placed a warm hand on Ninette’s shoulder. “Though you “ you have something of your parents in you. Cecil too, for all that you look like your mother. You may go on towards greatness, you know “ after all,” she said, with a funny, twisted smile, “you are half Peverell.”
They sat in silence for a moment until suddenly Professor Snith jumped up. “Oh!” she cried. “I nearly forgot! How silly I am…” Leaving Ninette sitting in the middle of the greenhouse, she hurried away through the door in the back. Before Ninette could begin to wonder whether she was supposed to be following, Professor Snith had reappeared, waving something in her hand.
“I was looking through my things the other night and I found this “ and as much as I love it, I thought it had better go to you.” Practically quivering in excitement she handed Ninette a photograph.
Ninette had seen wizarding photographs before; the other girls in her room had them hung all over “ her section of the wall was the only area that was blank, since her one picture of her mother stood in its frame on her bedside table. She had watched, fascinated, at the way the unfamiliar people in the pictures moved. She had spent several afternoons staring at the pictures of Tonks’ family, jumping every time she heard a sound for fear she would be discovered peeking into a life that was not hers. She had marveled at the way they waved, at the picture of Tonks with her beautiful mother and smiling father, building sandcastles on the beach.
Now Professor Snith had given her a moving picture of her own. In the photograph, Cecil and Cynthia stood in full evening dress, smiling at each other. For all their movement “ he tucked her hair behind her ear, she put a gentle hand on his shoulder “ they never stopped looking at each other.
For a few moments Ninette stared, forgetting all rules of politeness. “Thank you,” she said at last. Her aunt had taught her to refuse gifts politely “ ‘when people give you things, they think they can start making demands on you’ “ but Ninette did not even consider giving it up. “Thank you, Professor Snith.”
Professor Snith flushed. “Please,” she said, “don’t mention it. One does like to do what one can, and your father… Well… I think he would have wanted… That is…” She turned her head away and for a moment went very still. When she looked back at Ninette she was her usual self once again.
“My dear Ninette,” she said, and then paused, her eyes on the clock on the greenhouse wall. “How ever did it get to be… Why, you must get back to the castle before it gets dark. I wouldn’t want to be responsible… If ever something should happen to you! I have a class in a few minutes “ a special evening class, on dusk-blooming roses “ so it would probably be best if I sent you on your way.”
Ninette nodded, smiling as she put the picture safely in her bag. “Thank you,” she said again.
Professor Snith patted her once more on the shoulder. “My dear,” she said, her voice unusually low, “you are always welcome to come and speak with me. Always.” Her words hung warmly in the air as Ninette walked back to the castle through the snow.
Ninette nodded, putting the picture safely in her bag. “Thank you,” she said again, before returning to the castle.
For once she went into the Gryffindor room without her usual shyness; she did not hesitate even when Justine and Marianne stared at her from the window seat. Walking towards her bed, she took out the picture. She had watched the other girls do this as they plastered their walls with collages full of families and friends. Holding the photograph against the wall so that it was easily visible from the bed, she tapped it smartly with her wand. “Adhaere!” Somewhat to her surprise, it stuck.
“What’re you putting up?” asked Marianne as she and Justine walked casually over to look. “Who are they?”
“My parents,” answered Ninette, a touch of pride in her voice.
For a moment the two girls stared at the picture. “Fancy that,” said Justine at last, before she turned and, linking arms with Marianne, swept out of the room. Left alone in the empty dormitory, Ninette curled up on her bed. She fell asleep watching her parents’ smiling faces.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.