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.