Chapter One


When she looked back on it all, she could never find a clear path from her childhood to adulthood. The road was muddled with 'could have beens' and 'should have beens', and when she really thought about it, even she had to admit that the way things had turned out—it wasn't supposed to be that way.

But then she thought about it a bit more and realized it was the only way things could have possibly turned out.

It started in Hogwarts, in her Fifth Year if she had to pin it down. From her first days at Hogwarts it had been known that there was something special about Nymphadora Tonks, who seemed to know every single hair styling charm and glamour charm there was. She'd been forbidden by her mother to ever tell anyone about her gifts, at least until she was old enough to understand that not everyone thought it was a privilege the way she did. There were slip-ups, of course, but it wasn't until the third week of Fifth Year when she really messed up.

She didn't often have dreams she could remember, but when she did, they were usually so vivid that they stayed with her for many days after. The appearance 'Dora had chosen for her Hogwarts years was one with dark hair and sky-blue eyes, of average height and slim build. She'd made herself attractive on purpose, enjoying the looks she received from boys of all years and houses.

On that particular morning, she'd had a vivid dream of her aunt, Narcissa, who she hadn't seen since she was a child. It wasn't so much the content of the dream that mattered rather than the fact that when she woke up, it was to the screams of one of the girls she shared a dorm with.

"Who the bloody hell are you and what the bloody fuck are you doing in 'Dora's bed?"

It took 'Dora a few hazy moments to realize why her dormmate, Raya Neelson, was pointing her wand directly at her. When she finally did, she immediately morphed back into her regular appearance, too drowsy to think of the consequences.

Her dormmate shrieked, dropped her wand, and ran from the room as fast as she could. She'd always been dramatic, and usually 'Dora found the girl's antics amusing. This time, however, that was the last thing from her mind. Sighing to herself, 'Dora buried her head under her pillow, wondering what the hell was going to happen now.

The reaction was immediate; when she went down into the Great Hall for breakfast, nearly all conversation stopped when she entered the room. She could feel hundreds of sets of eyes burning into her, and the only reason she decided to go ahead with this complete and utter humiliation was because of how hungry she was.

Conversations eventually started up again and 'Dora sat down, just a bit removed from the rest of her Year. She was usually outgoing and friendly to everyone, but today she decided it would be for the best if she ate her food and ran.

"Oy, 'Dora!" It was Charlie Weasley who spoke to her first, and when he did, nearly the whole table lapsed into silence.

"Yeah?" 'Dora asked wearily, running her fingers through her hair as she idly wondered why she'd morphed into her aunt in her sleep in the first place. She hadn't morphed into anyone unconsciously since she was eight.

And then she remembered; her mother had written her the day before, and in the letter had been a long rant about how her sister's husband was ruining Narcissa's life.

No surprise there. Lucius Malfoy was a certified pureblooded arse, after all.

"Why did you look different this morning?" Charlie continued, apparently oblivious to the stares around them. At least one person had the guts to ask, thought 'Dora.

"Because," she mumbled, sighing inwardly. If there was ever a time to tell, this would be it, no matter what her mother said. "I'm a Metamorphmagus."

That, she was soon to find, would be the statement that would define the rest of her life.


It started with curious questions from people who were brave enough to approach her; could she change her hair? How about her eyes? What about her legs, could she make herself taller? With each question came a demonstration, until 'Dora grew fed up with the whole thing and made the mistake of changing her appearance to match that of her dormmate's. Raya's eyes had gone wide and her mouth had dropped open to form a silent 'o'. Unfortunately, now the entire Gryffindor Common Room was now staring at them, most shifting back and forth between the two, unable to tell the difference.

"Hey, can you change into me?"

"How about me?"

"You're a boy, Percy, she can't change into you!"

'Dora slowly morphed back into her normal appearance, feeling herself blush to the roots of her hair. She took a seat at the end of the couch, where she was immediately surrounded by a number of on-lookers.

"So you can, like, change into anyone you want to? You can pretend to be someone and no one could ever know the difference?"

Raya had returned to her side, claiming the spot beside her, and was now leaning in eagerly toward 'Dora, who was trying to lean away from her without seeming too obvious.

"I guess," 'Dora said uncertainly, eyeing the crowd that was beginning to form.

"Wow. So you could, like, pretend to be me and make out with my boyfriend?"

'Dora's eyes widened considerably at this.

"No! I mean, yes, maybe, but I would never—"

"Have you? You could, right? So have you?"

"What?" 'Dora was beginning to panic, and the number of students around them was growing, making her feel claustrophobic. "No, of course I have, Raya—we're friends, I wouldn't—"

"Hey, maybe you can morph into a Slytherin and get into their Common Room! You could find out what they're going to be doing for their Quidditch season!" exclaimed a voice 'Dora recognized as Oliver Wood, a Second Year who had just been accepted onto the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

"Excellent idea!" chimed in Charlie, who 'Dora was beginning to hate.

"Hey 'Dora, can you change into a boy?"

Another Weasley—Percy this time. 'Dora sighed heavily.

"I don't know, I've never tried."

"Are you sure you weren't born a boy and morphed into a girl when you were a baby?" Still Percy, who 'Dora was fairly sure didn't mean to embarrass her so badly.

"Yes I'm sure!" she snapped loudly, feeling as if she were about to cry. "I couldn't morph until I was five, I know what bloody gender I am!"

She felt an angry tear running down her cheek, and even more embarrassed at the prospect of crying in front of all of her housemates, she went to stand and escape. Just as she shifted her weight, however, a hush fell over the crowd as they parted to make way for the Head Boy, Bill Weasley.

"'Dora?" he asked when he reached her, and Raya moved over to make room for him. He didn't sit down beside her, however; instead he kneeled in front of her, making himself just a few inches shorter than she was. "Are you all right?"

She wordlessly shook her head, knowing that if she spoke she'd break out into great blubbering sobs. Bill nodded and took one of her shaking hands, helping her to stand.

"Come on," he insisted quietly, glaring at the crowd—most noticeably Percy. He'd heard the whole thing. His younger brother shied away as they made their way through, and without another word Bill led her up the stairs to the boy's side of the dormitory, where the Head Boy's room was. He mumbled the password—'Firewhiskey'—and the door opened, revealing a small room with only one canopy bed and wardrobe, along with a desk and a small window with a cushioned ledge on which to sit.

Bill closed the door and pulled out a chair for her. 'Dora sat gratefully, running her fingers nervously through her hair, which was still a dark shade of brown so close to black that it was hard to tell the difference.

"So that sucked," he said conversationally, perching himself on the edge of his bed. 'Dora couldn't help but crack a small smile.

"Yeah, well, my mum always told me to keep it to myself, and I tried. I guess this is what she was talking about when she mentioned consequences," she mumbled, looking down at her hands. She sniffed, and a moment later Bill was there, offering her a tissue.

"Thanks." She wiped her tear-stained cheeks before wiping her nose, depositing the tissue in a bin next to Bill's desk. "I can't help it, I don't know why everyone keeps bothering me."

"Metamorphmagi are really rare," Bill pointed out, as if she didn't already know that. "You're a bit of a novelty, that's all."

"I don't want to be," she muttered darkly, sticking her hands between her knees to keep herself from playing with her hair nervously.

"It'll die down eventually," Bill promised, although 'Dora knew he had no way of knowing that.

"I don't know how, with Raya as my roommate," she grumbled. "I hate that girl, I swear—"

"You don't hate her, you just hate that she outsed you in front of everyone," Bill murmured in a comforting manner, and she knew he was right this time.

"Yeah, but still." A pathetic retort.

"How about this," Bill said in a much more chipper tone. "You stay in here with me tonight and we'll deal with everything in the morning."

'Dora frowned. "Isn't that…er, against the rules?"

Bill shrugged. "Doesn't matter, McGonagall and the Headmaster will understand. I promise I don't snore. I'll conjure a cot for myself and you can take the bed."

She pressed her lips together nervously. "You're sure? I mean—I don't want to get you in trouble. Or me. I don't want to get anyone in trouble."

"You won't," Bill promised, and 'Dora wanted desperately to believe him. The last thing she wanted to do was to go back to her dormitory to face Raya.

"It's settled then," he said cheerfully. "I don't want to hear any objections from you, either."

'Dora sighed, knowing she had no choice. At least the rumours that would undoubtedly form about her and Bill would given the school something else to talk about than whether or not she was really a girl.