Cleaning House

"Wow," Nymphadora breathed as she admired her reflection in a mirror that she had conjured. She'd created a solid object from the particles of the air with her mind! In her past life, she had yearned for magic from her childhood to her untimely death. She felt like hopping up and down in excitement, but was kept distracted by something much more pressing.

Even the thrill of magic couldn't divert her attention from the fact that she was gorgeous. She touched the mirror in awe, tracing the lines of her face framed by her curly pink hair. It was still her original face, not Tonks', but all of the flaws were gone.

Every last blemish and scar that told the tale of her life was missing like they were never there. All of the slight imperfections that came with being human were absent. Her face was perfectly symmetrical. She almost didn't look real.

She didn't have the slight wrinkles or laugh lines that had started to form even in her twenties, either. She had only lived to her early thirties, before she was ripped away from her world. She pushed those memories to the back of her mind. Unfortunately, in her past life she wasn't granted a peaceful death. Being burned alive was a nightmare that she wouldn't ever forget.

As she inspected her new body, she couldn't help but think that she now had looks akin to a goddess. Rather, in this world where magic was real, it might be more accurate to say that she had the innate beauty of a veela. 

The veela were definitely a group that Nymphadora wanted to meet. She couldn't wait to find out if they were just as good in bed as she'd always imagined. Fleur Delacour was currently working at Gringotts, right?

That thought brought her back to more important matters. She wasn't Tonks, but she had all of her memories like she'd lived them herself. Tonks' hatred and rage bubbled inside her, waiting to be unleashed.

Nymphadora couldn't help but feel pity for the previous owner of her body. With her skill set, she could have gone anywhere and done anything. Instead, she was trapped here in a backwards cesspool run by inbred barbarians.

Nymphadora blamed two people for Tonks' suffering. Voldemort had ruined Tonks' life and taken everything from her. Dumbledore, on the other hand, had used her, her family, and her friends. What was left of them? Nothing but ash and dust.

She had fond childhood memories of her uncles, James and Frank, as well as their wives, her aunts, Lily and Alice. Magical Britain was a small community with a declining population. All of them ran in the same circles and had hoped that their children would grow up together as family.

Her parents had many friends before the war heated up. Over time, her parents had fewer and fewer visitors to their house until eventually nobody came at all. Tonks was young, but she understood. They were dead. Murdered.

Since then, they hadn't had much contact with people in the wizarding world. The loss of so many of her loved ones and their dreams for the future almost broke little Tonks and her family. 

Nearly a decade and a half later, Tonks was still fighting the same war. Again and again, losing the ones she loved. It was no wonder that she'd gone off the deep end. These bastards had plagued her every step for her whole life.

Nymphadora promised herself that she wouldn't let Tonks' sacrifice be in vain. She would help her achieve her vengeance and fulfill her final wish, in her own way of course. After all, wasn't her presence the answer to Tonks' prayers? She had everything she needed to take down the Dark Wanker and his brood.

However, she didn't want to stop there. With magic finally in her grasp, and a world filled with ancient marvels to explore, she was lifted up by a heady sense of ambition and purpose. She could achieve anything in this world. She was only limited by her imagination.

With renewed determination, she tore herself away from her reflection and left the ritual room, conjuring and donning some simple robes as she went.

She'd always been a bit of an exhibitionist, but the only other person in the house was Kreacher and she didn't want to give him a show. Tonks may not have known, but Nymphadora knew that Kreacher had betrayed Sirius by conspiring with Bellatrix. Nymphadora grit her teeth and stalked down the hall. The saggy ball-sack of an elf was dead, he just didn't know it yet.

Thankfully, anyone even tangentially related to Harry Potter had another house elf waiting on standby. "Dobby!" she shouted.

After a short delay a disheveled, harried house elf popped into existence in front of her.

"Where-?" Dobby started before he noticed Nymphadora, looking at her in slight confusion, "Miss Nymmy? What be's going on?"1

"Hello Dobby, I'm happy you remember me. How are you these days?" she asked with a smile.

"The wonderful miss asked Dobby how he is doing! Dobby is moved by miss's kindness!" Dobby cried as he launched himself at her.

Nymphadora had been afraid of this. She liked the little guy, but she had no desire to let him touch her. She only liked being touched by those she trusted. Dobby wasn't quite there yet. He was also kinda gross. No thanks.

She sidestepped the bawling house elf's tackle and levered her wand at him. "Wingardium Leviosa," she incanted out loud with a swish and flick. She couldn't help herself. The scene of the golden kiddos learning that charm in the first movie was darling. She had her own version of that memory now. Professor Flitwick had always been one of her favourite teachers.

Dobby came to a shuddering stop in mid-air as he was levitated by the smiling witch.

"Now, now, Dobby. No need for tears," she shushed him. "I meant what I asked. How are you?"

Dobby stopped crying and bobbed his head up and down repeatedly. He let out a wide, genuine smile. "Dobby be's doing good, miss. I's be working at Hoggywarts in the kitchens."

Nymphadora smiled kindly at him, "I'm glad to hear it, little guy." She really was. No matter how much of a cold-hearted bitch she was she knew nobody deserved the treatment Dobby had suffered as Malfoy's servant.

She gently lowered him to the ground, offering,"How would you like to work for me as the Black family house elf?"

Dobby stared at her in shock for a few seconds before exploding with excitement. "Dobby would LOVE to be Miss Nymmy's house elf!" he exclaimed.

"Good. Very good," Nymphadora coughed, "For the time being you can get started on preparing this house to be lived in properly. It's a mess because the current house elf is seeking death. I'll leave the house to you, just make sure not to leave for the next few weeks, no matter who calls you. It is very dangerous outside these days," she warned.

"Yes, new Mistress. Dobby understands," he said and popped away to begin cleaning.

Nymphadora was sort of stealing him from Harry, but the boy was so clueless that he didn't even understand the value of a loyal house elf like Dobby.

She had one last thing to take care of tonight and then she'd face the future tomorrow. She gripped her wand, letting her rage suffuse her. Her magic pulsed and summoned up a small breeze, whipping her hair up into a frenzied dance.

"Kreacher!" she yelled.

Kreacher popped in, grumbling, "What does the nasty blood-traitor's half-blood spawn want with poor Kreacher?"

She smiled brightly at the gnarled old elf and casually gestured at him with her wand.

"Avada Kedavra," she said simply. A green light flashed. In his surprise, Kreacher made no move to escape. He was dead before he hit the floor.

"Oh wow," she shuddered, "That felt... really, really good." Nymphadora had always had a bit of an addictive personality. If all of the darker spells gave that rush then she could see why so many dark wizards were completely mad.

She nudged Kreacher's cooling body with her toe, before haltingly breaking out into a fit of giggles. She loved magic. Two words. That was all it took. Just two words and the world's most depressing house elf was nothing more than kneazle chow.

She wondered what using the cruciatus curse on someone would feel like. She couldn't wait.

For now, she was too tired to do much else. She vanished Kreacher's corpse and skipped back to her room. She was reborn, but her body was still exhausted from undergoing an unknown magic ritual and dying, however briefly.

She flopped down on her bed, her eyes falling shut before her head even hit the pillows. She drifted off to thoughts of magic and mayhem. That night, she sighed happily as she dreamed of spilling the blood of her enemies. Magic really was wonderful.

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