Chapter Three – A Way to a Professor's Good Graces
It had been two weeks.
Two weeks, and Tonks was going absolutely insane.
She had tried to talk to Professor Dumbledore several times, but he seemed to be avoiding her. For lack of other options, she sat outside of his office for what seemed like ages before Professor McGonagall approached her.
Tonks had barely remembered that this Professor McGonagall did not know her, and she had been coming up with excuses to get out of trouble for loitering before the witch looked down at her kindly – was it even possible for the old crow to do that?! – and ask her how she was adjusting.
"Er, well," Tonks managed to get out. "It's all right I suppose. The girls in Hufflepuff are very nice."
And that was true. When she had introduced herself, they had been almost tickled pink. They said that now they had six girls in their year, more than any other house! They had then asked her the more perfunctory questions, the ones Dumbledore had given her answers to in the letter. She felt compelled to embellish, but she remembered Dumbledore's warnings of restraint.
So, instead of her father being the greatest dragon tamer of all time, he was just sort of all right.
That had properly impressed them, but once she kept in her bed during her free time, they left her alone.
The girls back home would've never left Tonks alone. They would've pestered her, or told her that being so quiet and sullen was out of her character.
But these girls did nothing of the sort.
Tonks was left alone, with her thoughts.
Twelve years was such a strange time, wasn't it? If she squinted, everything seemed the same. All the professors pretty much looked the same. Professor Snape was a student, she had noticed, and a rather, surly, ugly one at that, and she felt pleased that he did not seem to have many friends, other than a Gryffindor girl who seemed intent on becoming Tonks's friend for some unfathomable reason.
Twelve years was such a strange time to be sent back, wasn't it?
Tonks's thoughts often drifted to her own father. To her mother. To herself. She was alive, somewhere, wasn't she? Tonks had never thought of herself as a particularly self-involved person, but she couldn't help but feel like this bit of magic was the cruelest prank imaginable, and someone must have done it to her on purpose. She was bored out of her mind, and she couldn't help but wonder what she could do in this time. Why couldn't she have been sent back to, well, the middle ages, or something dashing like that?! Adventure! Fun! Instead, Professor McGonagall was still a cat and fourth year still felt like fourth year, except there was no more playing Quidditch, no more friendly snogs with Charlie Weasley. Nothing.
Tonks was so busy feeling sorry for herself, that she hadn't even been able to research properly.
She had told herself that that's what she should do, of course. Research. Figure out a way home. But the library was completely lacking in books on time travel, and the one time the Gryffindor girl had asked her if she needed help, she tried to ask her what she thought of apparating inside Hogwarts.
"Oh, can you apparate inside of Salem?" the red-haired girl – named Lilith, or something like that – had asked. "You can't do that here, at Hogwarts, I'm sorry to say."
"Yes, but. . . but what if someone tried?" Tonks had pressed.
"If you tried, you would fail," the girl said. "You should read this." She then pulled a thick book from her bag and handed Tonks Hogwarts, a History, and Merlin, twelve years ago, they even had the same boring books! But then the girl said something interesting. "It doesn't really get into why the anti-apparation spells were put into place, but I would imagine it's for protection."
"Protection?" Tonks asked, surprised.
"Yes. To keep Hogwarts for those who are meant to be here." The girl smiled. "It's what I love most about this place." Then the girl left, saying if she needed anything else to just ask, and Tonks was left on her own, realizing deep in her gut that perhaps the reason she felt so alone was that she wasn't supposed to be here at all.
If Tonks was slightly less self-involved, she might have noticed who the girl was sooner – who everybody was sooner – but instead she was just pouting in front of Dumbledore's office.
"I don't believe that the headmaster is in," Professor McGonagall said softly. "Why don't you come with me?"
Tonks was surprised when her feet seemed to guide her behind her least favourite professor, whose office looked virtually the same as it had every time Tonks had been called in there to get detention.
"Have a seat, Miss Bathswitch," Professor McGonagall said, and it took Tonks a minute to realize that the teacher was talking to her.
"Okay," she said dumbly.
Professor McGonagall sat across from her and seemed to be inspecting her. Yes, this seemed much more familiar.
"Miss Bathswitch, in the interest of full disclosure, Professor Dumbledore has informed me of your . . . situation."
"He has?!" That really took Tonks for a ride. Old Dumbledore had seemed so intent on keeping everything on the down low that she really didn't take him for the disclosing type. Couldn't this mess up the space-time continuum or whatever those muggle shows went on about on her Gran's telly?
McGonagall seemed amused, like the way she looked when Tonks's pranks were really funny, but she was trying hard not to show it.
'To be blunt with you, Miss Bathswitch –" and Merlin was that name stupid, Tonks thought, and she was practically the expert on stupid names "- I do not entirely agree with the headmaster's methods."
Tonks couldn't help but gape. "Are you allowed to do that?" she blurted out.
And then McGonagall laughed!
"I've been known to, from time to time," she said, growing serious. "The Headmaster is amused by the situation, but also gravely worried. Are you aware of what's going on in the wizarding world during this time?"
And then Tonks sobered. 1975. . . Harry Potter. . . Of course! But that meant that You-Know-Who was still out there, somewhere, plotting. The thought made her shiver.
Tonks had the good sense to look down. "Bad things."
"Yes, Miss Bathswitch. Bad things. I consider myself an observant person, however, so the fact that you are not running around and seemingly trying to save the world, as it were, brings me great comfort."
Tonks hadn't realized. . . The bad things . . . If she was from the future . . . Yes, if things were still bad, she would be worried sick, wouldn't she? She wouldn't be a moody fourteen-year-old, locked away in her dorm.
"Yes, Professor. I didn't even think of the bad things until you mentioned it. But," she added with a mischievous grin, "you always did accuse me of not thinking things through."
The Professor did not smile. "You do realize, Miss Bathswitch, that the bad things that may or may not come to pass may depend on your existence in this time." McGonagall, then stood from her chair and walked to the front of her desk and sat on the edge, so close to Tonks that their knees were almost touching. "While I am not well-versed in time theory, I am worried about the Headmaster's approach, in that he seems to believe that time is stagnant – meaning that, whatever will happen will. He believes that your existence here is preordained, as it were, and that you ended up here simply because you were meant to. He is not paying much attention to your case because he is more concerned with the 'bad things,' as you put it, and simply believes that your situation will right itself."
Tonks furrowed her brow. "I am sorry, Professor, but I do believe I am a bit lost. You're saying that Professor Dumbledore is ignoring me because I just don't matter?"
But Professor McGonagall did not elaborate, merely shook her head. "Let's just say that I do consider myself an expert on all things Transfiguration. Did you know that I studied the art for years before I began to teach here? I interviewed countless animagi, and even travelled to Bolivia to talk to a real Metamorphmagus?"
Here Tonks perked up because this was the Ol' McGonagall she knew, always harping on her about her abilities. "I suppose Professor Dumbledore told you about that, as well, eh?"
"Yes, he did, because he thought it might interest me in your case. He does not seem to grasp. . . Well, all I have is my conjecture. But I suspect I might be the foremost expert on shapeshifting wizards out there." Here McGonagall seemed to blush. Merlin, Tonks was learning all sorts of things about her Professor these days, wasn't she?! She was almost tempted to go back to her own time solely to tease her Professor about the revelations. "I suppose you could call it envy. But beyond their ability to transform, wizards like you have shown tremendous ability in Transfiguration, and in changing things. I tried to explain this to Albus, how a Metamorphmagus like yourself invented the Polyjuice potion, how a Metamorphmagus like yourself created the Homorphus Charm. But he didn't seem to really understand."
Tonks blinked. Polyjuice, that she knew. The Charm, she did not, and she told herself to make a mental note of it, but she had already forgot the name. "I think that might make two of us, Professor," she said, and then McGonagall patted her on the knee and just smiled.
"Don't worry about it. Just be careful, if you would, as a favor to me. Albus's advice is sound. Keep your head down until we can send you home." McGonagall then stood and went back around her desk.
What was the point of all this? Tonk wondered. Professor McGonagall seemed to be trying to tell her something, but all she got out of it was that Professor Dumbledore wasn't even trying to send her home.
She thought of her mum.
"Don't you look cute?" she had said before snapping the picture of Tonks on her first day of Hogwarts.
"Mum, stop, you're embarrassing me!" Tonks wailed, hiding her face behind her hands. "Dad, can't you make her stop?"
"Sorry," she heard her father's easy voice. "Can't stop your mother from being who she is."
I want to go home, and she was blinking back the tears before she even realized they were forming.
She had managed to hide them before the Professor looked back at her.
"Back to my previous question, Miss Bathswitch, how are you adjusting to your new year?" she asked pleasantly enough.
"Well," Tonks said, grateful that they had moved onto some kind of conversation that made sense. "It's all right, I suppose. I find the classes kind of boring. I don't mind not speaking up, because I don't really care about that sort of thing, but. . ." And here, for some reason, Tonks felt like she could tell her Professor how she really felt. "I don't like feeling invisible. I'm not really used to it. Being normal. . . I have always wanted people to think I was something unique."
"You don't think yourself unique, Miss Bathswitch?" Professor McGonagall seemed to be reading her mind, and Tonks didn't like that very much at all.
"I didn't say that, Professor," she snapped, "I just like other people to know it, too. And I miss being funny. I miss making people laugh."
Tonks then grinned as she thought of the few amusing things she had seen since she had been here in this time. "Although the pranks in this time. . . Putting the slime on the stairs? That was bloody hilarious."
Tonks shut her mouth as she realized the slip, but Professor McGonagall didn't even try to take house points away for cursing. Instead, she merely pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Yes, those are my fifth year Gryffindor boys, I am afraid," she said wearily, although Tonks, now deciding to practice the art of being observant herself, noted that the Professor said 'my.' "They think they are funny."
"Don't you think they are funny, Professor?"
"I don't mind the pranks," the Professor said easily, "but sometimes I fear they do not know the difference between laughing with people or at people, and that is a very valuable lesson to learn." Here she frowned. "That is another tense subject between Albus and me."
Tonks found that she rather liked Professor McGonagall when she was friendly and not always harping on her for her wasted potential. When Professor McGonagall offered tea, Tonks nodded enthusiastically.
They chatted a bit more about her lessons – Tonks tried not to tell too much of the future, but she let things slip sometimes, like how she thought Professor Slughorn, while more amiable, didn't seem near as knowledgeable as her old Professor, or how the Nimbus brooms in this time totally sucked.
But Professor McGonagall did not berate her.
It was starting to be downright eerie.
"I did a really funny prank in your class once, Professor," she said, feeling rather brave, but also realizing, a bit pathetically, that Professor McGonagall was quickly becoming her only true friend in this time.
"Oh?" the Professor asked.
"Yeah. Every time you said the words, 'proper wand movement,' chocolate frogs would appear everywhere!"
McGonagall merely inspected her. "How did you manage that?"
"Well, spells are connected to words, right? It's a psychological thing?" And if Tonks didn't know better, she would have thought that her Professor looked impressed. "Well, I put a whole store of frogs in my trunk that I bought from my last Hogsmeade trip, and. . . " Here Tonks paused. "You know what, I don't think I am going to tell you any more than that."
McGonagall nodded, though her eyes were twinkling even worse than Dumbledore's. "Wouldn't want to ruin the surprise, would you?"
"Absolutely not!" Tonks said, grinning, and feeling happy that at least someone here knew she was quite the witch in her day.
There was a lull in the conversation as the witches finished their tea, and then Tonks said she should go on her way. McGonagall showed her to the door.
"I must admit, Miss Bathswitch, that I am quite disappointed you were not sorted into my house," McGonagall said and Tonks nearly fell over. She had never heard those words from her Professor in a positive context – in fact, the one time she had said it, it had been in a threatening way, as if she thought Professor Sprout was going too soft on her.
"Well, the sorting hat gave me the go around," Tonks admitted. "It took ages, it felt like. But in the end, I am happy to be a Hufflepuff. I think loyalty is the most important trait someone can have." She practically puffed out her chest. "Once I decide someone's worth it, they are absolutely stuck with me, for better or worse."
And Tonks realized that, whenever she got back, she would never be mean to the Transfiguration professor again.
McGonagall nodded. "Good girl. Though given your vivacious nature, it's a good thing you're not in Gryffindor, meeting my boys," McGonagall said of the fifth years again. "I'd hate to see what James Potter and Sirius Black could get you into."
And it was that moment, after two very dull weeks in the past, that Tonks became substantially less self-absorbed, and realized with horror exactly what being in this time period truly meant.