A/N: Man, it's been so long. I don't even know if we're still putting author's notes before stories! It has been nearly six years since I last wrote fanfiction so hopefully I haven't rusted out too badly. We'll see. This is my first time writing for something "mainstream," so I'm nervous. XD No real notes for this one, but I need to remind myself to read some more Harry Potter again before I write the next chapter!
Preface
Little Firsties
"Hey, Weasel! Look here, ginger git!" The newest Weasley at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry had barely started to turn when a particularly nasty Jelly Legs Jinx hit him square in the thighs. He collapsed instantly, grinding some grass stains into his already worn pants and landing freckled nose first in the dirt. He just grunted, propping himself up on arms impressively muscled for an eleven-year-old. Classes had barely begun, but apparently bullying was already in full swing.
"I think this one's deaf and dumb, Horas."
"Not surprising," said the caster, wand still held aloft impressively. While the others mirrored each other with pale skin and varying shades of brown hair, distinguished by their heights and house colors, Horas stood apart. His dusky skin contrasted sharply against the freckled pale skin of his victim, and his black hair fell perfectly in place, unlike the Weasley's messy red mop. Smirking, he knelt down, pushing his wand closer. He kept a careful majesty in each movement, brown eyes shining. "Bunch of in-bred blood traitors, they are."
The boy had swallowed back his words at the first insult. He had developed a strong filter for his instincts. But his family was close, and a jab at them sparked a fury that never ignited when he was insulted individually. He sprung up suddenly, like magic pouring from a broken wand, legs never leaving the ground. He didn't need his legs or even his wand with the strength bundled up in his arms and torso. This Horas was too cocky and too close, and the little Weasley caught him by the collar and slammed him into the ground beside him, no magic required.
"Bloody hell!" the teen cursed, unable to hide his bafflement. He spat out dirt and some more curses, lifting his sharp face from the ground and twisting in an attempt to stand. "You thrice-blighted squib!"
Weasley just slammed a large hand into the Slytherin's chest before he could rise, pinning him down again.. Horas tried to still look in charge, but the majesty had flown from his angular face, his perfectly kept black hair now in messy wisps. His few Slytherin and Ravenclaw buddies backed away from the chaotic foray. They knew Gryffindors to be fierce fighters, but he seemed even more unpredictable than the rest.
"Why should I waste perfectly could magic on a prat like you?" The calm in his voice contrasted his sudden fighting style, and caused the group to step back again. "Merlin, you're a lot of cowards, you are."
Horas, still dazed and now wheezing, spat at the boy. His pride more bruised than even his chest, he flushed beneath his dusky cheeks and summoned a spite he had never needed to show before. He brought up his wand, jabbed it right into the insolent Gryffindor's ribs, and cried out in a voice he had not yet composed. "Petrificus totalus!"
Arms seizing up with the rest of his body, the younger boy could no longer keep the older boy pinned. Horas rolled out from under him and surged to his feet with hardly a stumble, dusting off his robes and holding his head up high. His cheeks still burned, but his clear superiority put the cool look back in his eyes.
"Even your scrawny brother can put up a better fight than you, squib," Horas sneered, wand trained right at the boy's dirtied, freckled face. "Never thought even a blood traitor would stoop to Muggle lows like that. Consider this your first real Hogwarts lesson, Weasel." He drew back his wand with a flourish. "Conjunc-"
"Professor!" one of the boys squealed. Horas stopped mid-jinx and snapped up his head. Sure enough, Professor McGonagall could be seen approaching from the lakeside. They didn't need points deducted three days into the school year. Horas lowered his wand, then stashed it into his robes. "Don't go squealing, Weasel." His eyes, cold and narrowed, delivered the threat he didn't need to verbalize. In the next moment, the boys were rushing back to the castle.
"Phew!" exclaimed Professor McGonagall as she made it up the slope. The closer she got, the less she looked like herself, until a sprightly young girl with messy brown hair stood over the prone young boy on the ground. "Glad those blokes didn't stick around. Don't think I could've fooled them except at a distance." She crouched down, leaning her face over his. "Wotcher," she said, flashing him a bright smile with one tooth missing. "You all right there? I mean, besides being jinxed. I don't think I can fix that, sorry."
"So'kay," he replied, a laugh dancing from his throat. "It's like taking a lay down in the sun. This thing's got to wear off some time, yeah?"
"I sure hope so." She rested her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands, rocking forward on her toes. "Well, how about I keep you company until you can move. You don't seem very good at making friends otherwise."
"Wasn't my fault. He's in my big brother's year, they're always at each other's throats." He tried to shrug, but couldn't move that much yet. "But the company sounds great, lovely."
A splash of pink colored her nose. "Big brother, huh? That's fun. What's your name?"
"You couldn't tell?" He laughed again. "I'm the newest Weasley in town. Charlie. You're Tonks, yeah? Nym-"
"Just Tonks is fine," she interrupted, the pink turning to red quickly. "That's what I'm getting everyone to call me."
"I guess Nymphadora's a bit of a mouthful. But you stopped me at Nym. That's cute, yeah?"
Tonks's whole face went red, and her hair seemed tinted with the color. "I- cute? That is - I hate the name, and that's not even the point, and I-"
This time Charlie interrupted her. "Aw, c'mon. You haven't gone around saving everyone, have you? Then can't I get a special name for my special savior?" He paused, watching her face continue to redden. He couldn't work out why; the name wasn't that bad! "You can give me any nickname you want in return."
Tonks crossed her arms, looking for a moment like she might storm off and leave him lying there alone. She huffed, but then leaned back and sat down with a plop. "Well then, to get a good one I guess I'm just going to have to stick to you like Spello-tape, aren't I?"
Professor Trelawny would have been impressed with just how spot-on little Tonks's prediction of the future would be.
