Black and Grey

There are many ways in which I could begin this tale of adventure and mystery. I could begin the day the tomb was discovered by Mr. Carter, or even later on the day that the tomb was opened and the demon released. The time that I first arrived in Egypt would also be an effective beginning, since it was then that I made the decision that would forever change my life. Yes, dear Reader, there are countless ways to tell this story, but only one can be used. Only one can explain everything that I am going to tell you. Only one can make sense of the events which occurred during the winter season of 1923-1924. Only one can reveal the entire truth.

Sometimes, I still wonder whether or not those events were all a dream. I am sure that many readers will not believe the sorcery taking place, nor the fact that a demon can indeed exist. If it had not been for my schooling I would not have either. But I never knew what it was like to be a "normal" person. For the first eighteen years of my life, I lived in a world of dreams and fantasy, a world that most could not even imagine. Yet for me it was entirely real. I was born a witch to one of the most affluent wizarding families in England and grew up to despise non-magical beings. It was not for many years that I realized just how wrong I was in my beliefs, or rather the beliefs of my family. In the years that I shunned my power, I learned that there was far more to the world than simply magic. There were people I met who could do amazing things without a wand or spells. It was those people, not my parents nor anyone from my childhood, who taught me how to love and trust. With them, I learnt true happiness.

Yet I also learnt that shunning my power was not an option. Magic exists in the world even though most do not see or hear it. The magical and non-magical worlds coincide, living off one another. Without one, there cannot be the other. Such a lesson was painful to learn, but sometimes pain is necessary to learn and remember. My magic is both a blessing and a curse.

Perhaps the best place in which to begin this story is to describe the event that made me question everything which, up to that date, were all I had known and believed in. I had been out of Hogwarts for one year - in other words, I was a full-fledged witch. The Great War was raging across the Channel where both muggles and wizards fought side-by-side. My parents did not agree with the War, thinking it illogical for wizards to even take part, yet they did not fight my brother's decision to go and join it. Hence during my final year of schooling, Hector left for France with other young wizards to fight what appeared to be a losing battle. Later on, I would curse myself for not having been there that day to warn him of the impending dangers of battle. Had I been gifted with the Sight, I would have.

In April of 1918, we received the owl which bore the tidings of my brother's disappearance during a battle. They never found the body, it seems. Even today, so many years afterwards, his bones are buried deep beneath French soil, never to be recognized, never to be acknowledged.

Our London house went into the deepest of mourning as soon as the news was received. The house elves covered the windows with black crepe and used the same material to surround my brother's portrait in the drawing room (although I cannot say that the picture was very happy about that). Hector had only been twenty-three upon his death and he left behind a wife, child, sister, and parents. It is difficult for me to even remember what he looked like, that is how long I have been absent from the world I grew up in. He had the dark hair of my father, that is certain, but he also had strange eyes. What colour they were I could not tell you. Perhaps they were dark, or even grey like mine. There is too much of my early life which has gone forgotten by my aging mind.

His wife, my sister-in-law, was a willowy girl who had rather been forced upon Hector before he was to leave for France. It was my parent's side of the agreement that he marry if he chose to join the army. Eleanor Nott was a suitable wife, if nothing else. Barely three months after we received notice of Hector's death, she wasted away and died. It is possible that she committed suicide, as my father could have easily covered up any evidence that would cause scandal, but now something tells me that Eleanor had been weak and afraid. At the time I did not understand why she would die, wasting what could have been a full life and leaving her infant son alone in the world.

It was not until a few weeks later that I did.

I was sitting one September morning in the conservatory, practising piano. Everyone said that I was a good musician, yet I did not believe them. Most adults gave useless praise to children, even ones who were old enough to be adults themselves. At nineteen, it still appeared that to my parents and the rest of the world I was still a child to be coddled and adored by all. I hardly looked like a child, being only inches short of six feet with a body so shapely in places that I was quite embarrassed at dinner parties. Not that anyone seemed to look at me. Even the wizards took no interest in me, to the horror of my teenaged self-esteem. To them, I was a Black and therefore untouchable.

Before I begin this early part of my narrative, allow me to apologize for the imperfections fo the following scene. For many years, I tried to forget the event that forced me into exile, but with this memoir, I find my memory scattered and incomplete. I have recorded all I can remember, yet there are gaps and places of inconsistency. These can be attributed to the failing mind of an old woman. But I digress.

The moment my father entered the room, I should have known that something was amiss. The whole household knew never to disturb my practice or they would receive an evil look and perhaps a jinx if they weren't so lucky. But that morning, my father came into the conservatory and politely asked me to stop.

I did, of course. My father was not a man to be reckoned with.

"Come with me, Helen," he said. "There is something important that we must discuss."

Grudgingly, I nodded and followed him after folding away my music. He led me into the library, a room that I had forever adored for its smell of old books and for its atmosphere of intense thought mixed with a hint of relaxation. Once he had sat in his old green leather chair, he motioned me towards one of the hard Windors on the other side of his gigantic desk.

"Have you ever thought about marriage?" he asked suddenly.

I stared at him incredulously. "Who is there left to marry? Nearly all the young men I knew are either dead or maimed. I do not wish to end up like Eleanor, Father."

Father smiled, an amused look in his near-colourless eyes. "I would never assume you'd ever be, my dear, but things have changed recently. Your role in this family is one of those changes." With these final words, his face darkened as though he were not entirely pleased with such a change. From my earliest memories, my father had always deeply cared for me, teaching me how to read and giving me inspiration for my fond affection for history.

Suddenly I heard voices in the hall approaching the library door. Father looked around him, worry on his face. He seemed desperate, like a cornered animal. Something was happening around me and until that moment, I had taken no notice of it.

"You must forgive me, Helen," he said. "But your mother believes that Orion cannot be raised as an orphan, that he must have a family."

Orion. My nephew. I stared at Father, only partially understanding his meaning.

"Does mother wish for me to become Orion's guardian?" I asked him.

Father swallowed uncomfortably. "Yes, but there's more than just becoming his guardian. It would not be proper for a single young woman to raise a child in our circle. She is planning for you to marry first."

I opened and closed my mouth a number of times, lost for words.

He leaned over his desk and took my hands in his. "Helen, haven't you noticed the sudden attention she has paid you? All the new dress robes and all those times getting your hair done by her own maid? Your mother has never done anything for anyone without it suiting her own purpose."

I wrenched my hands from his and rose from the chair, feeling my cheeks redden with both anger and shame. How could I have been so naive?

"Most fortunately for you she has made a wise choice in husband for you," Father continued, his voice becoming more serious. "Even though I am opposed to you getting married so soon as I was with your brother's untimely departure, Canis will serve you well as husband. He has many fine qualities."

The strangled sound that emitted from my throat at the sound of that accursed name rang through the room. "Canis Malfoy? Are you mad, Father? Not only is he at least ten years my senior, but he looks at any witch as though she were a common whore!"

"Don't use such language in this house!" Father exclaimed angrily. "With your beauty and his cleverness, this family might be able to piece itself back together. Haven't you seen the way that purebloods are dying off, Helen? A connection between the Malfoys and Blacks will cause this rift to end. Once more the purebloods can rein over our world."

I bit my lip, trying to fight back the tears. The only ally I had left, my father, was now turning against me. When he had been kind and loving only moments before, he had suddenly become a monster I hardly knew. He and mother would marry me off to a man who would take my pride, crush my spirit, and lead me to an early death. And where would they be throughout this? Hector would never had allowed this to happen. He had known what Canis was really like.

"I hate losing you so early in your life, Helen, but this is necessary," Father was saying. "Your mother and I have agreed that you will marry as soon as it is possible. The arrangements are being made as we speak."

"What about what I think, Father?" I impulsively cried out. "What about my own feelings? How can you make me marry a man I despise?"

"Who else is there to marry?" he returned sharply. "If you can name a candidate, please do."

But I couldn't. There was no one, nor had there ever been. Even with my looks, my wit, the boys at school had never given me a second glance and in the past few years, most of the males I knew had died on the battlefield. It was not a great surprise that someone like Canis Malfoy had stayed behind. He was too great a coward to fight without his wand or even to fight at all. He loved power and money, thinking only higher of his own self, the pompous ass.

The sound of Father's chair backing away from the desk alerted me to the approaching voices which had now reached the door of the library. I could hear my mother's quiet, but fiercely cunning voice speaking excitedly to someone. That someone I presumed to be Canis Malfoy.

"Father," I said with desperation. "Please don't go through with this. I'll do anything!"

"I cannot make both you and your mother happy it seems," was his only reply.

As the door opened, he only had time to give me a sympathetic glance before mother entered, closely followed by a tall man whose very presence emitted his greed. I turned away from them, walking towards the French doors which opened onto the verandah.

"And look how modest she is, Canis," my mother said with a sly smile. "She doesn't wish to have you look upon her until after the wedding. Such a dear she is! Now come here, my dear. I assume that your father already told you of our glorious plans."

"Indeed he has," I said grimly, not daring to look at them. "And I want to tell you that I refuse to go along with it. Never will I marry, that is my greatest wish, Mother."

In the silence, I could almost imagine my mother's cherry red face glaring at my father, who would most likely be more amused than anything. As for Canis, I dared not to think. Perhaps he was leering at my silhouette, or worse, staring at me with disgusting thoughts in his head.

"What are you talking about?" my mother spluttered. "Never marry, what an idea!" She must have turned to Canis at this point because I heard her say to him. "Don't mind her, she's simply astonished at such an honour. You know young people these days."

"Magdalena," Father addressed her quietly. "This might not be the best time to introduce her with such plans. She's still upset about Eleanor's death, you know. They were close friends."

"Oh rubbish, Eduard!" Mother exclaimed in reply. "Helen despised Eleanor like she hates everyone in the world. It's not healthy for a girl to seek the company of no one. Marriage will do her some good."

"I'm not saying otherwise," Father argued. "Only that perhaps it'd be best to postpone the ceremony another week. It's quite a shock for Helen, and I hate to see her so upset."

"Quiet, both of you!" I cried, sick of their verbal tennis match. "Never marrying means that I don't want to marry today nor any other day. Postponing the marriage won't help any, I'll be gone before you can say 'I do!'"

Most unfortunately for me, Canis actually looked impressed at my outburst while Mother stared at me as though I had grown horns. For many years I had envied her shining golden hair and generally striking appearance, but at that moment all I could see was the cunning in her eyes and the look of distaste on her red lips. She had always preferred Hector over me, and I realized her need to punish me for being the child who had survived her beloved son.

It wasn't that Canis was an ugly man, none of the Malfoys are. He was tall and muscular with a haughty face and clear blue eyes. His white blond hair was in a fashionable style and all his robes were of the highest quality. But it was his manner which I could not stand. Most likely he would treat me as though I were garbage, a slave to his passions and desires. That was the one thing I refused to be for any person, be it man or woman. I would be owned by no one.

There was a snicker from above the mantlepiece. The portrait of my great-grandfather Phineas Nigellus, was looking down at the scene with much amusement.

"You can tell she's a Black by her stubbornness," he declared proudly. "It's obvious that she won't listen to you, my boy," he added, addressing Father. "I always said that you spoiled her too much. Obviously even a Malfoy isn't good enough for her now."

"Enough!" Father growled, pointing his wand at the portrait. Curtains appeared, covering Phineas' surprised and rather hurt face. Out of everyone in the library, he had been the only one who had actually been enjoying the action.

Father then turned to me, his eyes blazing. "There has been enough trouble here. You will marry Canis no matter what you wish, Helen. Perhaps I was incorrect. Perhaps you need to grow out of your childish attitudes."

While I stared at him, open-mouthed, he pointed his wand in Mother's direction.

"I blame you for all this, Magdalena," he said, his voice dangerously low. "If it weren't for your meddling, this family would not need to be brought back together by a badly-planned marriage. My son would still be alive and my daughter would not have to sell her body merely because you think it best. Don't even think of enjoying the rest of your life here."

He stormed out of the library without a look at Canis, slamming the door behind him. Before anyone could take notice of me (for Mother had fallen into the nearest chair with a case of the vapours), I stole out the French doors and ran into the garden, hoping to find more than simply peace and quiet.

That night, once the household was asleep, I left, taking with me all the possessions I could fit into my old school trunk. Using a spell to shrink the trunk, I apparated out of the house, never to return. Where I was bound, I had no idea until I reached Dover and was on the ferry to France.

I had always dreamed of visiting Egypt, a country that for so long I had read about. The tombs, the pyramids, the history ... all of it appealed to both my heart and mind. At least there it was warm and dry, no more of that infernal dampness.

Yes, Egypt definitely was the place for me.


Phineas Nigellus and the Black family in general, as well as the magical world, belong to the great J.K. Rowling.