Family of Elements
"Dear Minister,
I must first thank you for the wonderful supper the other night. The swan and capon pie, in particular, was simply heavenly and Druella waxed lyrical about the cinnamon rolls…" The flattering words roll off the tip of my quill on to the paper almost the moment I think of them, as they should. After all, I belong to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. Members of my family have been advising the Minister for generations. But despite this, today I have no patience for it. I lay the quill aside with a sigh, pushing the scroll of parchment away from me.
Rising, I saunter over to the bookcase and select a volume at random. As I begin to scan its dense lines of text, a wry chuckle escapes my lips. Why, I am doing exactly what I always scold Bella for doing – procrastinating.
Bella. Bellatrix, my first born. My Bellatrix; my female warrior. She is eleven years old now and currently attending her first year at Hogwarts. Druella wanted to send her to Beauxbatons in France, which has a reputation for turning out young witches who are accomplished in both magic and the social graces, but I refused. I knew that having to attend such a school would just about finish Bellatrix off. Much to her mother's despair, she has never been a decorous Pureblood maiden, though she has her pride and will never stand for anyone slandering the House of Black. She is our firebrand.
Unlike her sisters. Andromeda is like Bella in looks, but gentler. Bella's black is softened to brown in her and she can always keep Bella on an even keel. She is fiercely loyal; particularly to her sister. She might only be nine, but woe betide anyone who tries to shake Meda's beliefs. She's as steadfast as a rock. If Bella is fire; entrancing, beautiful, all consuming, then Meda is Earth. She's no beauty like her sister, but she is always there, always reliable. She's the one daughter that I don't have to worry about.
Cissy, however, I am concerned about. The only one of our girls who takes after Druella, she floats around, not really caring for much beyond her toys, jewels and dresses. She doesn't have Bella's passion or Meda's self confidence… she's air, naïve, trusting. To be honest, though she pulls off a very polished veneer of grace, she's too emotional. Anyone who pretended to care for her could mould her in any kind of woman they wanted, because she'd truly believe they loved her. Druella spoiling her doesn't help. I wish she'd teach Narcissa to be more like her. More independent. Druella never lets anyone get close to her. Not even me. I don't pretend to know my wife. I never did. And why should I? She was born a Rosier. Everyone knows that they're made of ice.
"Yes." I muse aloud. "Druella and the girls really are a family of elements."
Then I put down the book and return to my letter.