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.