Nymphadora (affectionatly known as Dora to her father and friends) knew Mummy was mad, and not like she did something horribly clutzy and ended up knocking over a lamp (or an entire set of China, which refused to be salvaged by the simple spells). But it wasn't really anger, not quite, in Mummy's eyes when she looked down at Dora -- it was more sad, and she got quiet. And it was all, Dora decided, because of her eyes.
Daddy had pretty sky-blue eyes, dark chestnutt hair that was so thick she used to get her fingers tangled in it when she was a bitty girl, not the big 6 year old she was now. But Mummy had long, shiny blond locks that curled and pretty pale skin. Dora was her father to a tee, ski-slope nose and all, except for one teeny bit - her eyes. Daddy had said darkly, when she was little, that she had "Black eyes." But they weren't black, no no, they were this sharp gray color that scared little boys when they flashed with anger. Mummy had just left the room, making noises that didn't sound like she was happy.
So how could she proove to Mummy her eyes weren't black? They were kindof pretty, in their own unique way, and upon any other occasion she would've found them something to look in the mirror and study. But if Mummy wouldn't like them, she wouldn't like them. But changing your eye color, the six-year-old found out quite soon, was easier said than done.
She just wanted Mummy to love her, even though she tripped lots and her kindygarten teachers had told her she didn't fit in well with the other children. What did the teacher know, anyway? Dora had been perfectly nice, but when the other children found out her last name they'd whisper and they'd talk bad about her Mummy. So the kids didn't like her, but what did she care? She'd just stumble through big girl books like Gilda Grumlock, Witch Detective and the Cauldron Children during recess instead of playing silly kid games.
Her eyes started to well up with tears as she got so frustrated, staring into her sharp gray eyes in the mirror, wishing them away with all her might. She'd clamp her eyes shut and squeeze her fists together and hope and wish they'd change. She'd squint an eye open, hoping and praying that when things came back into focus her eyes wouldn't be the stinging gray, but time after time they were.
Dora lay on the cold bathroom floor tiles, kicking her tenny shoes off to the side. She pouted her lower lip and took a big breath and let the last tears dry up. Only babies cry, she thought, twisting a lock of brown hair round her finger, and she, quite certainly was not a baby. And besides, all that squinting had left her with a head ache and an appetite. She sighed, picking up a piece of tissue and blowing her nose before flipping off the light switch and closing her bathroom door.
She padded down the steps in her socked feet and wandered toward the kitchen, calling for Mummy. Dora soon found her in the kitchen with a big peanut butter and jelly sandwich with the crusts cut off, just the way Dora liked it. But when Mummy turned to face her, she gasped and dropped the plate.
"Mummy? Are you okay?" Dora asked kindly, crinkling her eyebrows together at Mummy's actions.
"N-nymphadora. What did you do to your eyes?!" she finally, coming closer to Dora and peering into them.
Dora's eyes widened and she ran to the hall mirror, screaming aloud and two big blue eyes now replaced the silver.
Author's Note: short, I know. Eep. But this idea got stuck in my head for a little while and I thought it'd be a good plot to work out -- even if it is short. In case you didn't get it -- "Black eyes" meant eyes like the Black family, which Andromeda wouldn't have liked because it'd remind her of home. This is how Tonks, in my way, discovered she was a Metamorphagus. If you liked this (cos Tonks is cool, only Light person I like!) please take a gander at my story "Shrunken Ears and Magnified Rumors," which features everyone's favorite Metamorphagus. Gilda Grumlock was based of Nancy Drew, the Cauldron Children off the Boxcar Children.
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