Bang. The door slammed open, as it always did because of some imbalance in its construction. Nym jerked, then forced herself back to the potion, feverishly hoping that all her work wouldn't be lost because of the momentary lapse.
"One moment, please," she demanded, counting silently. Narcissa, for a wonder, waited patiently for a full five minutes before Nym covered the cauldron to allow the potion to simmer, setting the golden timer that sat on one of the shelves for forty hours, six minutes and twelve seconds. Mistress Morgan's book was very precise, even more so than the most difficult of the potions either Remus or Professor Tofty had ever set her. At last she looked up. "Yes, Aunt Narcissa?"
"Oh dear. I was afraid you had forgotten. Your grandmother is coming for dinner tonight." Nym felt the blood drain from her cheeks. There was a portrait of Grandmother on one of the walls, and she looked a horrible woman. Nym felt truly fortunate that it couldn't move, and wouldn't be able to until after the woman's death. Otherwise she might well have had her grandmother following her around shrieking, as Narcissa warned she sometimes did. "And she just sent us an owl. My aunt is coming too."
Nym bit her lip, hesitantly, and led her aunt back into the library proper. "Is that a bad thing?" she asked worriedly. If her great aunt was as bad as her grandmother was supposed to be, she wasn't sure how she would cope. "Is she like…?" she couldn't bring herself to ask. Besides, that would be like speaking badly about her grandmother. And whatever her personal feelings about the woman, one thing Narcissa would never tolerate was speaking ill of another. It simply wasn't ladylike.
"Much more so." Narcissa sighed. "I suppose it's only to be expected, what with sons like hers. With those two, it's something of a surprise she hasn't landed in St. Mungo's."
Narcissa so rarely criticized anyone that Nym just had to ask who the boys could be that they would be so terrible. She had a guess, but if she was right, it would only make things worse, not better.
"Those little brats, Sirius and Regulus. Spoiled rotten, the both of them." Of course. What great aunt could have two sons that Narcissa disapproved of so thoroughly? "Regulus by his mother and Sirius by Andromeda. She always made such a pet of him. It's no wonder he turned into a bad lot."
Nym couldn't help but stick up for her cousin. "He's not that bad, really." Narcissa looked at her in surprise. "He looked after me when Regulus was picking on me." She didn't elaborate. Narcissa would never understand how much Sirius had looked after her, how much like a brother he'd become.
Her aunt sighed. "I suppose the boy might have some merit, after all. It would surprise me no end, but anything is possible." Nym knew she would get no more concessions on Sirius's behalf from Narcissa.
Back in her room, Nym turned before the long mirror to confirm for herself her aunt's assessment of her dress robes. They were neat, spotless, stylish and, moreover, fit properly. Her hair, left unchecked since last September, hung most of the way down her back. She thought it looked rather plain and straggly, but Narcissa assured her it was a very classic style for witches. Besides, her grandmother would not like it if wore it in a more becoming style. She would think Nym was trying to be one of 'those hussy girls' that her grandmother so disapproved of. It was unfortunate, Narcissa admitted, that Nym was so small featured, but it would be better to seem waifish, and therefore petite and delicate, than bold and 'hussy'.
"You know," a small voice commented when Narcissa had hurried off to make herself ready, leaving Nym with strict orders not to muss her clothes, "black is not really the right color for you." Nym looked around, to find the small portrait, which she had not even realized moved, talking to her. The woman was small and fine boned, as was Nym herself, but held herself with a dignity Nym would never achieve.
Nym sighed. "I know. And formal occasions aren't really my thing either. But I don't have a choice." She half expected the portrait to make some crazy suggestion, like other mysterious figures did in books and movies, but the woman didn't. She looked Nym up and down critically.
"Your grandmother doubtless thinks it most appropriate."
"Yes, miss."
The woman shook her head. "The Blacks have always been so. I used to believe that was where the name came from. You, however, are not a Black."
"I certainly look like one," Nym said bitterly.
The woman shook her head again, this time in a vexed sort of way. "Oh, you have the Black hair, I will grant you that. But you have the features of a Malfoy," she added proudly.
"I'm only related to the Malfoys through marriage," Nym protested.
"Bosh. All pure bloods are related, if you go back far enough. I don't
doubt some distant ancestor of yours was a Malfoy."
"I suppose," said Nym, unable to disguise her doubt.
"Well I know it. William can tell these things, you know. He keeps careful track of every pureblooded wizard's genealogy. An old project, and one that has often proved useful for the Headmasters of Hogwarts. You would not be in this room, young lady, if you were not a Malfoy."
Something occurred to Nym. "Is that why Madam Pince couldn't come in?"
"Who?"
"The housekeeper."
"Perhaps. Or mayhap William simply did not like her. His favor is much harder to come by than Malfoy blood, and that is a rare thing," the woman added proudly.
Nym smiled sadly. The woman sounded very like one of the Slytherins back at school, but she couldn't help liking her anyway. "That doesn't help me, though, miss. I still have to face dinner with my grandmother."
"Not like that, you shan't," the woman proclaimed. "Now, do you see
that molding over there? Put your hand on it." It came away in her hand,
revealing a hole about eight inches across. A wooden box was placed inside,
which Nym drew out slowly.
Opening it reverently on her desk, she lifted the latch with careful
fingers. When she drew out the dress, it was immediately apparent it was
a magical box. It would not have fit, else, nor the slippers she found
underneath. "Am I to wear this?" Nym asked, reverently stroking the fabric
of the dress.
"No," the lady answered decisively. "You're much too young. Someday, I promise you, but not yet. Now, open the top paper package."
Nym, in staring at the dress, had missed the slim paper packages that filled the bottom of the box. She drew out the first, unwrapping the delicate old paper slowly. Inside was a delicate silver hair clip, apparently spun of silver lace and emeralds. "T'was mine as a girl," the lady said. "T'is the only thing in there young enough for you. I only hope I shall see you wear the rest, someday."
"I hope so too," Nym said, as she reverently replaced the slippers and dress. She returned the box to its hiding place behind the molding. As she carefully set her hair, she reflected that this must be how all those pure blooded Slytherins she loathed lived. Shut up in a dim series of corridors with only her long dead ancestors for company, Nym thought she, too, might be a little odd. She still didn't like their high headed ways, but she didn't hate them anymore. Rather, she pitied them. She gave her hair a last pat before turning away from the mirror, missing the lady's nod of approval. Her wand was sitting on the desk, and she laid her hand on it for a minute, debating whether to bring it with her. But Lucius had made it abundantly clear over the past weeks that wands were not to be brought to the dinner table. Indeed, it would be like bringing a loaded gun or a bared sword to the table. Not even sworn enemies – particularly not sworn enemies – brought their wands to the supper table. There was nothing more distressing, Narcissa had added one day, than a magical duel over the cheese plate. She had said this with a significant look at Lucius, but Nym had kept her mouth shut, though her curiosity threatened to kill her.
That was another thing she had learned here, she thought bitterly as she made her way through the dimly let hallways towards the front door. Keep your head down and your mouth shut. How she longed for the enthusiastic mealtime conversations with Mandy and Rick. She'd written them both twice already, but hadn't yet received any replies. She'd also written Zack, once, keeping his letter much shorter than Mandy's. Although she had so much she wanted to say to him, she knew Mandy would find out she had written, and Nym didn't want any of Mandy's previous accusations repeated.
Remus had written back, on behalf of himself, James and Sirius. He'd given her a list of books to dig out of the library and study, and instructions for a number of papers he wanted her to write. He had every intention of continuing to teach her, and hoped to use her as a test subject while he worked on his Degree for Higher Magical Education at the National Academy of Magic in Zurich.
Poor Anton, Nym thought as she trailed her fingers down the stone banister of the main staircase. He'd almost fallen out of the air in shock when she'd told him the books Remus had told her to look for. No child, he'd insisted, had any place even knowing such books existed. Then she'd shown him her treatise on Shapeshifter, and he'd subsided, though he still protested occasionally. He hadn't told Lucius yet, though, for which Nym was grateful. She didn't think her uncle would approve of her studying texts like those, for all they were in his own library.
Narcissa was waiting by the front door to greet her mother and aunt. She smiled tightly when she saw Nym, coming. "Oh, thank God," she breathed. She gave Nym an absent smile. "Go wait in the parlor, please Nymphadora. I've left a book there for you to pretend to read. It's what your grandmother expects." She shooed Nym away.
In the parlor, a small magical fire burned in the grate, silent and cold. The book was waiting on a chair. It was small, bound neatly in worn green leather. Nym opened it and began to read, though she quickly wished she hadn't. It was terribly boring, all about how one was supposed to conduct ones self in a royal court. Nevertheless, she sat neatly as she'd been instructed, reading from the book that hovered obligingly at the right height for her to read comfortably.
Soon, she heard her aunt's voice, echoing pathetically through the vast hallways. "I trust father is in good health, Mother?"
A nasal voice, appalling in its crow like screeching tones, replied, growing louder as the speaker approached. "He is not, as you would know if you paid attention the way you should. It's his liver again, the bastard. Spending his life drinking with those disgusting friends of his… what have we here?" Nym looked up, not having to pretend the look of surprise that flitted across her face. It took effort to suppress the look of revulsion that would normally have followed, however.
In front of her aunt's slim figure were two bent old hags, each dressed in draping black. One, the one that didn't seem to be speaking, had a horribly pale face, looking like the old witch in Snow White that had so scared Nym when she was little. Purple shadows created inverted half moons under her deep set black eyes, set close about a protruding beak of a nose.
The other woman, who Nym guessed to be her grandmother, looked very like her sister-in-law, except that her face was ruddy and she wore a chain of rubies about her scrawny neck, which reminded Nym ominously of blood as they caught the light of the fire. "Nymphadora," Narcissa said sternly if, Nym thought, a little weakly, "say hello to your grandmother and great-aunt."
Had she been at home with her parents, greeting her paternal grandmother, Nym would have run to the woman and hugged her, kissing her leathery old cheek. She had no desire to go anywhere near this woman, though, as she stood in the doorway like one of the Furies, come out of myth to punish the world. Nym set aside her book, slowly and daintily to hide her reluctance. Well, she though, suddenly reckless, they want me to be a lady. So a lady I'll be. She dropped a neat curtsy, bowing her head to hide her glare, and murmured a greeting.
One of the women cackled. "You've trained her well, Naricissa, so you have. Proper young girl, not like most these days. Eh? You'll make some man a lovely husband some day, if you learn to hide that glare better."
"At least she can hold her tongue, can't you dearie?" the other one chimed in, in equally terrible tones. "Not like her mother. Stupid girl." Nym opened her mouth angrily, then shut it resolutely. She would not lower herself to replying to these old hags.
"Eh? What's this?" her grandmother demanded. "Andromeda was a failure, no doubt, but she did not bring such shame on the family as your son."
The other one let out something of a shriek. "My son is a wonderful young man, Agnes. And don't you forget it. The other one doesn't exist any more, so he doesn't." She made a snuffling sort of snort. "He'll be dead enough soon that it won't matter, anyway."
Nym's grandmother looked at her sharply. "Well girl, what do you think? Your great aunt is very proud of her son Regulus. He was at Hogwarts, as was the other one. What's your opinion?"
Nym knew she shouldn't. She should just keep her mouth shut, and murmur something about not really knowing, but being sure they, in their wisdom (that is to say, old and ungraceful age) knew best. Instead she glared angrily at both the offending old women. "Regulus is a brute and a pig. He's a coward, too."
Nym saw the blood drain from her aunt's face. Uh oh. "Is that so?" her great aunt said nastily. "And I suppose you like the other one, do you? The blood traitor? Just like your mother, aren't you girl?"
Nym glared at the woman. "My thoughts don't change the truth about Regulus. Or do you say it's brave, for an older boy to try and kill a first year student?"
"Tried to kill you, did he?" her great aunt asked, cackling to herself. "Quite right of him, I don't doubt."
Nym could almost see her grandmother's hair rising, like an angered cat. "Quite right, was it? Quite right to curse my granddaughter, his own cousin? She's no mudblood, dearie, as you'd do well to remember."
"No," the other returned. "She's even worse, the spawn of a mudblood and a blood traitor." Anything else she planned to say was cut off when she was flung across the room. Nym smiled angrily. Oh yes, she was quite angry enough to do magic without a wand, although Remus had always warned her to avoid trying, and thus avoid some nasty complications too.
Her grandmother cackled. "Oh, yes, dearie, a Black to the very bone. Your grandfather would be so proud, if he weren't in St Mungo's with fibromalmagicus and Merlin knows what else. Very proud, indeed." Narcissa looked even paler than ever.
Nym tossed her hair angrily, causing the firelight to glint off the
silver hair clip. Just for a moment, it sparkled gold and red, before returning
to its proper silver. "I'll be a Malfoy before I'm a Black, and I'm a Gryffindor
before I'm either." She stormed towards the door, shoving her grandmother
out of the way. Startled, the old woman stepped back. Halfway up the stairs,
Nym paused to look back at her still startled relatives. "And don't call
me Nymphadora. It's Nym Tonks. Get used to it." The stairs, however, failed
to thump satisfyingly as she stormed up them.