Daisy Petals
A six-year-old Nymphadora Tonks sat on the back stoop of her house, and she was moping. Her mother was in the kitchen doing who knows what and her father hadn't come home yet. Somehow, her mother hadn't remembered that she'd promised Nymphadora a trip to Diagon Alley today, and so, Nymphadora was sulking.
Lo and behold, whilst much sticking out of the bottom of her two lips was happening, Nymphadora noticed a smallish brown rat crawling very slowly across the garden path. It looked injured and Nymphadora moved toward it without a second thought. Carefully, she bundled the rat into her sweater and carried it, or rather, him, into the house and deposited her bundle on the kitchen counter.
"Look what I found mama," she said, her six-year-old voice pitched high enough to be heard over the whirring of her mother's magicked mixer. Her mother looked up, saw what Nymphadora was pointing at and screamed. The rat went into spasms of fear and Nymphadora earned herself several long scratches from the rat's claws as she tried to calm it.
"Nymphadora Tonks!" her mother scolded, "how dare you bring that filthy, disgusting creature into this house!" Nymphadora hung her head and walked back out to the garden as directed by her now very irate mother.
Once outside, however, Nymphadora had formulated a plan. She would go to her father when he got home, maybe he'd be able to fix the rat's paw which was bleeding a little bit and Nymphadora could see that he was missing a toe. She set the rat down gently, whispering words of comfort to it. Telling it to stay where it was, she ran off in search of some lettuce. When Nymphadora returned, the rat was no where to be found and she looked everywhere.
Some time later on, a very dejected Nymphadora was again sitting on the steps of her back porch, this time pulling the petals out of a daisy.
"He'll come back…"
She pulled a petal from the daisy.
"He'll not come back…"
Another petal fluttered to the ground.
"He'll come back…"
The last petal landed on the ground and Nymphadora crushed the daisy's head in her small hand.
"He won't come back…" she whispered, and then turned at the sound of her mother's voice calling her for dinner.