Title: Changeling
Author: Cait Pen
Pairing(s): Tonks/Lupin (primary), Sirius/OMC (secondary), James/Lily (tertiary)
Rating: M/NC-17
Warnings: Rape, sexuality, language, self-harm, suicidal thoughts/actions
Summary: There were several conditions to my acceptance into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, all of which were completely reasonable, none of which I would come to appreciate much in the years to follow, and one of which I would hate more than life itself. Tonks-centric, NT/RL, AU, warning: slash and het.
Chapter One: An Unexpected Letter
or,
in which the narration changes from 1st person to 3rd person and back again.
When I turned 10 years old, I got my Hogwarts letter. This, of course, was absolutely unexpected, and took my entire family (all three of us) quite by surprise. I distinctly remember dropping my training wand (which I was using to light my birthday candles) right into my cake. Which then burst into flame. Rather the more vivid part of that memory, I think.
I also remember thinking What in the name of Merlin's saggy left testicle is going on?* followed closely by Wizard**.
The letter, once I'd worked up the nerve to open it, was, understandably, not the average "Dear Mr./Ms. _, we are pleased to inform you that you have blah blah blah..." though it did share some characteristics. The ink, for instance, was still green (though obviously not written with an auto-quill, as it was in a different handwriting), and the seal, crest, and salutation ("Dear Ms. Tonks...") were all the same, but that was pretty much where the similarities ended.
Except that both letters had the capabilities to completely change one's life.
* A curse word I'd picked up from my dear mother. It should be noted that, at the tender age of 10, I had no idea what a testicle was. Until the age of twelve, I had naively believed it to be the secret appendage that Merlin kept hidden because he was afraid of people calling him a freak. Several psychiatrists have now taken note of this, and I am sure that Mum had no idea of the lasting damage her little "fib" did to my psyche.
** A much less sinister exclamation that I picked up from my lovely, muggleborn papa. After a few years at Hogwarts, I learned to limit the use of this particular oath, as I grew tired of the annoying "Yes?"s I'd get in response.
"Well, Nymphadora?" Nymphadora's father, a true Ravenclaw, was practically vibrating in his seat, curiosity tapping out of his fingertips. "What does it say?"
Nymphadora took a deep breath and started to read:
"'Dear Ms. Tonks,
"'Salutations and Happy Birthday to you! No doubt you and your parents are interested in why you are getting this letter a year early.'"
Nymphadora's mother Andromeda Tonks' eyes widened a bit, but Dora didn't notice, and even if she had, she wouldn't have cared to ask why, so she kept on reading.
"'Well, let me start by saying that my name is Albus Dumbledore, and that I am the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and have been for some time now. I believe I began as headmaster the very year that your mother graduated, though I did have the pleasure of teaching both of your parents Transfiguration for their time at Hogwarts. But that is another story.
"'I am writing today to present you with a place at our wondrous school, as a first year. Now, I know what you are thinking, that you are too young to be attending Hogwarts, but the word off the chimney is that you are an extraordinary girl, Nymphadora Tonks. If rumor is to be believed (and it ought to be, I was the one who started it) your first instance of accidental magic was at the tender age of two, and since your fifth birthday you have been practicing magic with a training wand, and doing quite well.
"'And before you start wondering how I know all of this (since your mother has done an exemplary job keeping this information from her "family" and other less than savory societies) be assured that I have come by this knowledge in only the most reputable ways. Turns out being Chief Warlock and Supreme Mugwump has its share of little perks. And here I thought they were just pretty titles.'"
Nymphadora looked up at her parents as if to ask Is this guy for real? and only then noticed the extreme tension in the room. Andromeda's back was so stiff it looked liable to snap in two, and her father Ted's eyes were wide and nervous. She hesitated to continue, but her mother motioned her on with a little jerk of her hand.
"'Now. Onwards. The whole point of this letter is to tell you this: I don't think that your acceptance to Hogwarts should be addressed solely in a letter. Although that whole plan seems to have been shot to the chocolate factory. Anyway, I shall be calling on you and your lovely family tomorrow morning at approximately ten o'clock. Please expect me, and best wishes on your birthday.
"'Sincerely,
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore
Chief Warlock (WZNGMT), Supreme Mugwump (ICoW)
Order of Merlin, 1st Class'"
Nymphadora stared at the letter in her hands for a moment, before allowing her gaze to once more drift up to look at her parents.
Andromeda looked no less tense than she had a moment before, and now her eyes were fixed on the door, as though Mr. Dumbledore were going to walk through at any moment. Although, considering the level of sanity already displayed by the strange, strange man, Nymphadora didn't think she'd be very shocked if he did.
Ted was almost as bad as her mother. He was simply staring at the table, as though the scratched and worn surface would provide some assistance in decoding the Headmaster's convoluted letter.
Nymphadora didn't know what to think, so she simply poured her now melted ice cream onto the smoldering remains of her cake (which hissed and spat satisfyingly), grabbed her birthday present, climbed up the stairs and into her room to settle in for the night and read it.
The next morning dawned bright and clear and frigid, which was only to be expected for early December. Nymphadora woke curled up at the end of her bed, as per usual. Her sheet was wrapped tight around her, so tight her arms couldn't even move, and her comforter was mounded on top of her in a pile almost three feet high.
After spending a couple of minutes disentangling herself from her nest, she stretched like a cat and wiggled to the floor. Thirty minutes in the bathroom and she was ready for breakfast, dressed in her fuzziest pink robe, bright green slippers, and with her bright blue blanket over her shoulders and trailing behind her on the floor.
It wasn't until she had reached the kitchen and seen the fourth place set in the breakfast nook that she remembered the night before.
Albus Dumbledore was coming to visit.
She looked at the clock on the wall.
In five minutes.
Ted looked up from his newspaper when he heard his daughter enter the kitchen. He looked tired, as if he hadn't gotten a lot of sleep the night before. Nymphadora couldn't see her mother, but she could presume Andromeda was already in the foyer waiting for their guest.
And before Nymphadora had time to even go back upstairs and get dressed properly, there was a knock on the door. She squeaked, Ted jumped, and Andromeda swooped down on the door before remembering her pureblood upbringing and stopping to take a breath, wait ten seconds, then open the door with a calm expression and a welcoming word.
"Welcome Headmaster. You're right on time." He was three minutes early.
"Oh no, dear, I'm really not. But I knew you would say so." He stepped inside.
Nymphadora had edged into the foyer in time to see her mother's expression twitch with mild annoyance. She, too, looked as if she had been up all night.
Andromeda caught sight of her daughter and rolled her eyes, but her eyes also softened a bit, and she seemed more genuinely at ease with Nymphadora looking as she always did in the morning. Not everything in her world had flipped upside down, at least.
"Headmaster Dumbledore, I don't believe you've met my daughter, Nymphadora. Nymphadora, this is Headmaster Dumbledore. He's here to speak to you about attending school this year."
Mum, thought Nymphadora, I read the letter, too.
Dumbledore seemed to see what she was thinking in her eyes, for he said, "Now, Mrs. Tonks, I think everyone knows why I'm here. May we move this conversation to a more comfortable setting?"
"Please, Headmaster, call me Andromeda. Would you care to join us for breakfast?"
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Then I am Albus, and breakfast would be lovely."
They moved into the kitchen, where Ted was already seated. he stood when they entered, and offered his hand to their visitor.
"Ted Tonks. Nice to see you again, Profess- er, Headmaster." Ted blushed.
"Please, Ted, call me Albus. And it's good to see you both again. Been quite a while since your school days."
"Don't remind me," joked Ted, and some of the residual tension in the room dissipated.
They sat down to eat, but Nymphadora could barely choke down her mother's pancakes. The whole situation was completely bizarre. She didn't understand what had her parents so on edge. So she was getting to go to school a year early, wasn't that a good thing?
"So, Nymphadora." She waited for the Headmaster to continue. When he didn't, she hedged in a tiny, "Yes?"
"That's a beautiful name. 'Gift of the Nymphs.' You're very lucky."
She smiled. She had always liked her name.
"Thank you. I like it too." And, because it seemed polite to ask, "What does your name mean?"
"White." White. Well. That was... boring. "But," and here he leaned a little over the table, as if telling a secret, "my last name means bumblebee."
Nymphadora giggled.
They were quiet for most of breakfast, and Dumbledore wisely chose to hold off the serious talk until afterwards. However, once they had retired to the living room, the more serious conversation started.
"So," said Dumbledore, who was seated in an armchair by the lit fireplace. Nymphadora and her parents were on the sofa across from him, "we all know why I'm here. Nymphadora, how do you feel about coming to school in the fall?"
She looked up at her parents. They gave her no indication of what she should answer. Did she want to go? Yes. Every child dreams of Hogwarts from the day time they understand what it is. Getting to go a year early would be a Godsend. And she was already learning some of the lower years' course work, so she could handle it, for sure. But wanting to go and needing to go were two different things, and if her parents thought she shouldn't, then she wouldn't.
But Dumbledore was waiting for an answer, and her parents weren't giving her anything to work with. So she answered honestly.
"I'd like that, sir. Er, a lot, actually. Is that okay?"
Dumbledore chuckled. "Yes, dear, it's perfectly okay. It is in fact what I had hoped to hear. You are an incredibly intelligent young lady, Nymphadora, and wonderfully talented. You know what I'm talking about, don't you?" He looked at her and his eyes were twinkling like mad.
Nymphadora nodded. "My mum says I'm the smartest little girl in the whole world, but I think she's exaggerating."
Dumbledore laughed, "I'm sure it's not the worst exaggeration ever, but yes, perhaps a little." His laughter died, but the twinkle in his eyes stayed in place. "But I'm thinking of another kind of talent." He looked her right in the eyes. "Do you know what I'm talking about, Nymphadora?"
She did. It was one of the first things she had ever known about herself. "My mum says I shouldn't talk about it to strangers."
"But I'm not a stranger, Nymphadora."
"No, you're not." He'd even had breakfast with them.
He leaned forward a bit. "So, let's talk about some of your less conventional abilities."
I've been able to do it since my first bout of accidental magic. No one could tell me for a long time whether this was normal or not, whether the signs usually started showing then, or later, or earlier. All I know for sure is that when I was two years old, I was playing with my favorite horsey toy when I, first, levitated it all the way to the ceiling, and then sprouted a mane. These two events were phenomenal for several reasons. One, that I'd done my first magic without it being powered by emotion or need. There was no dire need for my toy to be on the ceiling, or to even be away from me. I wasn't upset, or even particularly happy, I just thought (as far as I can tell, I'm kinda making this up) Hey, wouldn't it be cool if I did this? and I did. Two, because I had done my first magic before the age of four, which is almost unheard of. Three, because I had managed to change my appearance. And in no small way. It was not a glamour charm, or an accidental equivalent, it was a genuine mane sprouted out of my tiny body. And fourth and finally, because I had no genetic predisposition toward Metamorphamagic. My mum wasn't a Metamorphmagus, my dad wasn't one (obviously), and none of my extended family was. It came out of the blue, and in a really big way.
So. Here I am, a humongous freak, about to be accepted to freak school, in a world of freaks who hate other freaks. And the worst thing about this whole situation? The world in which I live, the world I can never leave, it has a saying that has made my life hell for the last six years.
Never trust a changeling.
AN: I know, I shouldn't be putting up something new when I haven't updated LHP in so long, but I promise that the new chapter of LHP will be up tomorrow at the latest, and likely tonight.
LOVE
William Chalmers Jr.