AN - Again, I got the idea from a random dialogue generator.

Sorry, this one's a little angsty.

"Well aren't you the cutest little thing!"

Tina bristled and scowled at the lady who had quite instantly taken a liking to Queenie. She owned the orphanage they were currently standing in and ruled it's floors. This was where they were being moved to next, and it was the dreaded day of the move. Though they didn't look forward to it, it was horribly easy. With only two bags of possessions and a friend of Queenie's to say goodbye to (courtesy to Tina's introverted self). No one would miss them, kids were sent away and moved around faster than you could say 'orphanage'. They'd soon be replaced with another pair of siblings or perhaps an abandoned baby who would enter the system. Tina as felt incredibly sad for the new-borns. About every month there was a solemn knock on the door and the headmistress would come back with a solitary baby swaddled in cloth. If they were lucky, the baby would be left with a short letter, but usually the parent would leave them without a trace. At least, Tina thought, she and Queenie were able to experience life with parents, no matter how short lived that was.

The new orphanage seemed nice enough, with some pretty flowers decorating the front step and a brightly coloured rug under their feet. The building was also vastly different in size to the last one. Queenie had craned her neck trying to see how many floors it had and even asked Tina to count the windows for her. Their last orphanages were pretty small, and there were only six rooms so everyone was always sharing with about ten other kids. Though Queenie never minded, as none of the other kids ever realised that she was prodding through their minds, but Tina always felt worried about her sister's talent. So many times she had to make Queenie promise to keep her mouth shut about the numerous secrets she heard. Hopefully this time would be different, and Tina was sure that it would be. But that didn't quell the nervousness they'd both felt stepping into the establishment. This was their third orphanage and hopefully last before they left for Ilvermorny.

All hopes she'd had about the lady becoming like an aunt had gone out the window when she said her first words to them. Previously, their last headmistress seemed to absolutely love young children, but everyone else Tina's age were neglected and ignored, left to their own devices. Their first headmistress held a sort of grudge against both of them after learning how their parents died.

"We're not contagious!" Tina had cried, sniffling loudly and not caring that she embarrassed herself in front of twenty other kids.

One of the older boys, Walter, scoffed. "People die of dragon pox all the time because it's so contagious." He rolled his eyes. "At least my parents died from a spell."

Queenie stood behind Tina, using her as cover while the thoughts of death and parents circled through everyone's heads.

"My dad was murdered."

"I don't have a dad, my mum ran off and got mugged!"

"That's stupid! Everyone has a dad."

"Children that's enough!" Madam Dorothy walked in holding one of the new babies, shunning them all into silence. "Remember the rules? We don't discuss the dead relatives."

"Yes Madam." They chorused.

"Madam? Have you tested these two for dragon pox? If they're contagious then we could all die!" Walter said, pointing rudely to them.

Dorothy turned round and Tina wiped her remaining tears. "Yes, you're quite right Walter." She peered down on them as if they were insignificant creatures.

Tina had trembled with fear and anger, as all they could do was stand there with twenty-one pairs of eyes staring unashamedly. She could feel Queenie clutching the back of her dress tightly from the horrible thoughts exploding from her head.

Now, Tina gripped Queenie's hand tighter as the lady stepped into her personal space and uncomfortably crouched down so she was face to face with Queenie.

"What's your name sweetie?" She asked patronisingly in a high pitched voice and a toothy grin.

Queenie, who was chewing on her sleeve, looked up to Tina for guidance. "Her name's Queenie." She answered for her.

The lady gave her a look of annoyance. "Why don't you let your sister answer for herself, hmm?" She said, almost challenging.

Tina didn't back down from her piercing stare, wondering as to how those eyes could go from being so soft to so sharp in a matter of seconds. "Because I'm her sister, and I'm Porpentina Goldstein." She declared, straightening and hoping she was putting on the image of confidence she'd practiced in the mirror that morning.

The lady straightened up and immediately Tina hoped she couldn't see her start to tremble as she towered over her. "You may call me Madame Ethel." She said in an authorotive voice. "How old are you both?"

"I'm nine and Queenie is seven." Tina answered again, ignoring the annoyed look she was getting.

Madame Ethel's eyes softened once again. "Come here dearie." She said, beckoning to Queenie, who reluctantly let go of Tina's hand to follow her up the stairs.

Feeling a bit lost, Tina took Queenie's little bag of belongings and ran after them. Ethel turned round and snatched the bag from her rudely. "Oh no not you." She said coldly. "Five to sevens have rooms on this floor."

Tina faltered and Queenie gave her a pleading look. "But we - we always - share..." She squeaked, losing the ability to speak under Ethel's gaze.

Ethel showed no sympathy and took Queenie's hand. "You need to let your little sister go, it doesn't do good to be so controlling." She berated.

But Queenie needs me. Tina looked down at her (second-hand) shoes. She already had very little control over her life already, and she had no say in which orphanage they could go to or what they could do. The memory of screaming furiously at their last foster mother still fresh in her mind filled her with a justifiable amount of guilt. When she was younger Ma and Pa knew about her obsession with making sure each item of clothing was organised in neat piles and categorised by colour, size and type. Even as young as four, she had to make sure that everything on her plate was neat and tidy and organised and separate. Everything needed to be controlled and maintained, which became hard when she couldn't control her parents' death or her flow of tears.

Ethel came back with loud steps and clipping heels. "You're over there, second door on the left." She said to her curtly, pointing towards another set of stairs. "I'm sure you can find your own way through."

Tina didn't bother thanking her, picking up her bag and marching over to where she pointed. Her room was small, and bare and dreadfully grey. There was a metal bed with a grey mattress and a thin, equally grey woollen blanket. The wardrobe was spacious enough and the brown colour had dulled over use. The floorboards were scrubbed clean but looked miserable as she stepped over them. The only natural light was from the one, dreary window with no curtains to block it out. There was no one else to break the silence and she was comfortably alone and away from the world. Everything was in its rightful place and nothing was going to change without her say.

Tina smiled. It was enough to stop the sob she felt rising in her chest.

AN - I have this headcanon that Tina's a little bit OCD. I think she doesn't like chaos (which probably made her want to be an auror) and that was obvious when Newt showed up haha. Anyway, I just thought that this little one-shot would be cute.