(I assume you all know that I, like many authors, am not JKR. I do not believe any further disclaimers will be necessary.)
I would like to thank my grammatically correct friend for making my previously grammatically incorrect writings grammatically correct. Thank you, dear friend, for your grammatical correctness.
Chapter 3
Harry and Tonks walked to Tonks' house through the dappled afternoon light. Harry had never been in this part of Little Whinging before. All of the homes here almost radiated comfort and homeliness, beckoning him into beautiful gardens and quaint cobbled drives.
Compared to the sterility of number four Privet Drive, this wonderful street outstripped it in every way. There may have been some flattened grass and crumpled flowers, but the children in the front yard playing completely negated that small fault.
On Privet Drive, children were told not to play outside on the grass, for fear of ruining prized lawns and stellar flowerbeds. Houses were kept painfully clean, and a trace of dirt on Aunt Petunia's floors would bring Harry a smack with a frying pan and hours in his cupboard. Privet Drive, Harry realized, was not the norm in this town, but a veritable prison of dullness and the stamping out of creativity, number four being the leader in this sense.
Tonks stopped in front of a modestly sized house, breaking the comfortable silence. "So, this is it, Har. This is my house."
Harry looked upon the house of his first friend and stopped in awe. Number 7 Geulis Street was the most beautiful thing he had even seen. Ivy trailed up the small brick house, weaving and dancing into patterns unknown to man. Azalea bushes bloomed on either side of the short stone path leading to the front porch. Looking up, Harry noticed warm cinnamon shutters framing clear windows that twinkled and winked at the awed boy. And just in front of him lay a crimson door, a gateway into a new place both unknown and exciting.
Tonks, on the other hand, bounced right up to said gateway, threw it open, and announced with all the flair a ten-year-old could, "Muuuum! I'm home!"
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Andromeda Tonks was having a good day, if she did say so herself. Ted was at work and she had the entire house to herself, no wildly screaming Nymphadora or jovial husband to disturb her serenity. All good things must end, however, and Nymphadora was coming home now, like the whirlwind that she was. Andromeda's thoughts turned to her only daughter, and her lack of true friends.
The Tonkses had moved to Little Whinging several years ago, and Nymphadora had no friends. Any little boy or girl that little Nymphadora did like ended up coincidentally moving away after a year. Andromeda, known to most as Andy, hoped that Nymphadora would bring home a friend, and that said friend would bring back the grin on her little girl's face.
Andy heard her little girl throw open the front door and announce her presence to the otherwise empty house. She unfolded herself from an easy chair near the front window and went to meet her Nymphadora, hoping to see the cause of the happiness in the child's voice.
In the doorway stood little Nymphadora, hair cycling madly through the rainbow, and a short distance behind her, a little boy, maybe six years old, draped in a dirty and ragged oversized shirt. The boy had the pale and sickly look of those malnourished and a wary distrust in his bright emerald eyes that no child his age should have known.
A messy black mop covered the boy's forehead, and come to think of it, he felt like the one person Andy had only seen several times over these past few years, the only person who could understand her growing up. In Andy's mind, green eyes flickered to stormy gray, and opulent child's robes covered dirty rags. She whispered a name under her breath,
"Sirius."
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Harry watched as a pretty lady came up to the door of the house. She had kind brown eyes, like chocolate, and light brown hair that brushed her shoulders. She almost looked as pretty as that lady with the red hair that Harry had seen in his dreams.
Harry snuck up behind Tonks and whispered in her ear, "This is your mum? She's so pretty."
"Thanks," Tonks replied as she made her way up the stairs. To Harry's embarrassment she relayed the message. "Mum," Tonks started.
"Yes, Nymphadora?" the answer came from Tonks' mum.
"This is my new friend Harry. He says you're pretty," Nymphadora Tonks revealed unashamedly, only sticking her tongue out at Harry as he frantically shook his head, trying to get her to stop.
"Thank you, Harry. That was very nice of you. Oh, do come in!," ushered Mrs. Tonks in a warm, lilting voice. This was the voice Harry wanted his Red Lady to have. Soft and warm and nice, like the mothers of the other kids that played outside when Harry had to do chores. Harry privately wished she had red hair. The Warm Lady continued to an apprehensive Harry, "And please call me Andy or Mrs. Tonks while you're here."
Harry blushed and nodded, marveling at the unprecedented kindness he was shown by Mrs. Tonks. He followed an ebullient Tonks up the steps. The awed youngster was led into a spacious kitchen, trimmed in white, lime green, and yellow. A plate of cookies sat on the marble countertop.
Tonks didn't stop to marvel at the kitchen; she had seen it for years before. She instead zeroed in on the cookies, momentarily forgetting the rest of the world. Melted chocolate lay in pools, a beatiful aroma rising from the cookies. The scent grasped her with aromatic fingers, long reaching and well-loved, pulling the completely willing girl into its warm embrace. It guided her hand, helped Tonks reach for a delightful disc of gooey goodness when-
"Nymphadora! Control yourself!" Mrs Tonks reprimanded. Her demeanor softening, she added, "Would you like a cookie, Harry?"
The raven was shocked. Never before had someone, an adult no less, offered Harry something! He asked tremulously, "For me?"
Andy laughed. "Yes of course for you, you silly child. Who else?"
Harry hesitantly reached for a cookie, then paused, his hand hovering centimeters from the top cookie. Tonks was now watching, Harry's hand preventing her from admiring the cookies. "But..I'm a freak, Mrs. Tonks. My Uncle Vernon said so."