I'm reposting the earlier chapters of this story, because I've gone through and done a couple of edits. I started this when there were almost no fanfics for Tonks, and still haven't finished it, but it's coming along. On an unrelated note, the timeline in this story is ever so slightly skewed. Not enough that it not to work, but it's a slight artistic license so I can bring in all sorts of fun characters (the Malfoys, the Weasleys, the Marauders and so on). Yes, Sirius should not still be at Hogwarts, and I'm pretty sure Bill is actually older than Tonks, but since JK Rowling, despite all else, has not put out an explicit time line, please be tolerant and let me have my fun. Speaking of which: the usual disclaimer applies. Original characters and most elements of plot belong to me, but anything recognizable either from the Harry Potter series or another source belongs in whole to it's author or creator.

The Hogwarts Express

Chapter One

Every year the scarlet steam engine left the station at the same time on the same day, taking young children away to school. Every year there were familiar faces missing, replaced by smaller new ones that wore slightly wondering, fearful looks. Such a face belonged to Nymphadora Tonks, who curled in the corner of an empty compartment, carefully not looking at anything within the train. It was all too new, too strange.

Nymphadora was a witch, or so her mother said. Sometimes, when her mother was being picky, she would amend that Nymphadora would be a witch, after she went to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and learned something about magic. Nymphadora had her doubts. She'd never done any of the things witches were supposed to be able to do. She couldn't turn into an animal, she couldn't brew potions for sleep and healing and love, and she certainly couldn't fly on a broomstick.

That, her mother always said, was because she hadn't learned to do any of that yet. But she would. She had better. Then she'd always laugh, and promise that Nymphadora would be just fine.

Her mother said a lot of things about how much Nymphadora would love Hogwarts, but she never talked about her own time there. She'd never even said which House she'd been in, though she'd carefully explained each of them to her daughter. Andromeda Tonks never talked about her past. She hadn't even told her daughter she was a witch too until Nymphadora received her letter from Hogwarts. Then she'd freely admitted it, although she hadn't elaborated.

"Why didn't you tell me?" eleven year old Nymphadora had demanded.

"I couldn't be sure you were magical, dear. You might have been a muggle like your father. I didn't want you to go through life hoping for something, and then maybe not get it." That, Nymphadora had thought, was grossly unfair. She'd always known she was special, and her mother had known it too. Well, not always. Only after first grade, when she found out the other children couldn't change the colour of their hair by thinking really hard about it and wishing. Her mother had known about that too. Why else would she have forbidden her daughter to tell anyone about it, ever, and to never, ever change where people could see her?

When she'd received her letter, she'd asked her mother if she could tell people at Hogwarts. She didn't want to; it had become her own special secret. But if everyone else could do it, what was so special about it? "If you really want to, dear. But be careful who you tell. Not everyone can do it, and it might scare them." So it was still her own special secret.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" asked a voice. She glanced up fearfully, the looked away quickly. The boy looked a bit older than her, not much, but he was quite a bit taller. And he was a wizard. Nymphadora still hadn't gotten over the idea that she could be turned into a toad at any time.

Besides, he looked a bit scary in his long black robes. Nymphadora had ones like them in her trunk, but she didn't think they'd make her look as… magical as the boy's did. His blond hair was a bit curly, which didn't really bother her, but his eyes seemed to see all the secrets of the world, all her secrets. His nose, upturned a bit, looked sinister rather than plain.

She squeaked something in assent, and looked carefully out the window, not looking at the thin reflection of him she could see in the glass. "This is your first year, isn't it?" he asked. He sounded kind, but it might be a trap. Her mother had warned her about magical folk.

"Not everyone's good, Nymphadora darling. You know that. The same is true of magical folk. Some are very nice, but there are some not so nice ones as well," Andromeda had said, giving her daughter a hug. "I don't want my darling getting hurt. If ever you're in trouble, look for Sirius Black. He's my cousin, and he might be able to help you."

"Yes," Nymphadora whispered.

"It's alright to be a bit nervous. Almost everyone is."

"You aren't," she whispered back. He seemed alright. But it might be a trap.

"Well, I'm in my second year. I kind of know what to expect. But I was nervous last year, too."

This admission made him seem a lot less threatening. Nymphadora managed to look at him without cowering away. "What's it like?"

"It's school. Have you gone to school before?"

"Yes." Did that mean wizard children didn't?

"Well, it's like that. There are some kids you like, some you don't. There are some teachers you like, some classes, some you don't. There's sports teams and homework, and detentions if you're bad, but first years don't get those very often."

That sounded so much like the local grammar school Nymphadora had gone to that she found herself smiling in relief.

"It's a bit different, I mean," the boy amended, "what with the magic and the ghosts and the castle and all."

"Ghosts?" Nymphadora squeaked. All the confidence she'd felt evaporated.

"Yeah, there's some ghosts at Hogwarts. But they won't hurt you," he assured her. "Most of them are really nice. If they aren't, they just ignore you. There's none that's really mean. Well, there's Peeves the poltergeist, but he's not really a ghost. And he just plays pranks and tricks on people, even if some of them are really mean or rude or inconvenient."

"Oh." He smiled reassuringly at her, and she felt a bit better.

"I'm Rick Trelawney, by the way."

"I'm," she paused. "I'm Nymphadora Tonks," she said a bit lamely. She had often felt that any parent who named their child Nymphadora must really hate their offspring. Her mother loved her, she knew, but that hadn't stopped her giving her first and only daughter a terrible name.

Rick seemed a little surprise. "I thought you were a muggle-born, from the way you talked."

"I am. Sort of."

"Sort of?"

"My mom's a witch, but my dad's not."

Rick nodded. "I wouldn't go spreading that around if I were you. Some people don't take so kindly to it." Then he became cheerful again. "You don't like your name, do you?" Nymphadora shook her head firmly. "Don't worry about it." Nymphadora remembered how he'd said not to worry about the school, either. If anything, she was more worried now, not less. "All the kids of pure blood families have terrible names. Like my parents, they called me Richalus."

"That's not as bad as Nymphadora."

"There're kids here called things like Bellatrix and Rodolphus and Rabastan and Phineas and Araminta and Elladora and Narcissa and Lucius and all sorts of other bad ones." He ticked the names off his fingers. He leaned closer. "Between you and me, try and stay away from the kids with names like that. They tend to be the bad lot, and they don't like muggle-borns."

"But how can I tell, if they all shorten them?" Something like panic was rising in Nymphadora's chest. It wasn't panic, though, because she'd past panic a long time ago.

"They don't. That's what I mean. They're proud of their horrible old-blood names."

"Oh."

"So what do you call yourself? Or is it always 'Nymphadora'?"

"Nymphadora," Nymphadora said miserably.

"We'll just have to change that, won't we? We can just tell everyone your name's Nymph, or just Nym if you like."

"Nym is fine, I guess."

"Better than Nymphadora, though, right?"

"Much." And home, Nymphadora thought, was much better than whatever this Hogwarts place was.