A/N: I'm anticipating this particular entry to be a bit shorter than the previous one but I'm hoping you'll like it just the same! Is there anything in particular you guys want to see in this series? If so, please let me know and I'll see what I can do!

Enjoy :)

Entry Two

The Muggle station of Kings Cross had always been far too crowded for my liking with a mixture of completely lost tourists, who congested everything by their anxious and constant checking of their maps, and snobbish businessmen (and women), who seemed to deem themselves above everyone else and apparently delighted in nothing more than halting right in front of one to check that they were indeed on time for whatever mundane meeting they were travelling to. Needless to say, I had always disliked visiting the station when passing through it to reach platform 9 and ¾ but unfortunately the world didn't spare me of this torture once I had completed my schooling as, in the tradition of the Black family, I was expected to accompany my younger family members as part of their farewell party before they disappeared for several months to Hogwarts. Usually, it was custom for all my sisters, parents, aunts, uncles and cousins to attend this unemotional send-off so that the Blacks could exercise their feelings of intimidation and superiority on other individuals in the vicinity. However, this year things were different as everyone else had claimed to be busy and therefore could not make an appearance. I, most unfortunately, had the day off from work and that meant I was available to stand imperially on a smoke-filled platform while my younger sister and cousin stepped onto a train.

And thus, there I walked, through the never-ending throng of Muggles, with Narcissa on my right and Sirius on my left, both pushing trolleys that rattled too loudly for comfort. I was almost like a human plough creating a clear path for my companions to trundle through and it occurred to me that had this station been completely filled with Wizards instead of Muggles they would eagerly have moved out of our way for fear of their own lives. Regrettably, this was not the case and I was forced to edge my way through the crowds in close proximity to several disgustingly fragrant people.

We reached the barrier between platforms 9 and 10. Glancing around to make sure our Muggle companions were otherwise engaged, Narcissa, Sirius and I passed through the barrier undetected and arrived on the platform which had a scarlet steam engine waiting beside it. Personally, I had always felt the colouring of the Hogwarts Express was incredibly biased towards Gryffindor and would be better painted a neutral colour such as dark purple or black. A loud clattering sound alerted me to Narcissa making a beeline towards where Lucius waited, his Prefect badge already pinned on his expensive black robes, but I had no desire to witness the affection between the two so I turned to Sirius, who seemed to echo my feeling, and together we led his trolley towards the train.

Once at one of the doors, I opened it with a flick of my wand and levitated his trunk onto one of the overhead racks with ease before stepping aside so that Sirius could enter the train.

'Dromeda…' he said nervously and I looked down at him. 'What House d'you think I'll be in?' His eyes searched my face desperately as I regarded him. Sirius was an extremely mischievous individual and I always felt he could easily rival the Prewett twins in his misdemeanant abilities. I had in fact helped with the first of one of his tomfooleries where he was planning to place a Muggle whoopee cushion underneath Bella's seat; I had come across him standing in my house's banqueting hall two hours before we were due to leave for my elder sister's wedding holding a single whoopee cushion in his hands. Upon seeing him, I walked over to see what exactly the 7-year-old was doing and, after I had registered what it was he was holding, I had duplicated it, my parents had always allowed me to practice magic outside of school, and told him for propriety's sake he would have to be unbiased and place one on the groom's seat also. Ever since then I had become Sirius' favourite cousin, a title I did not necessarily mind, and he had taken to trusting my advice over all others, something my mother seemed most smug about for some inconsequential reason or other.

'In whichever House the Sorting Hat deems most suited to you.' I responded. My answer did not seem to reassure him as he shuffled his feet apprehensively.

'But mother said-'

'Just focus on your school career in whichever House you are placed in. If your mother has any qualms with your House, I will speak to her.' Sirius studied me for a moment before he threw he arms around me in a tight hug. Although Blacks did not indulge in such affectionate gestures, Sirius had been an exception to the rule ever since he had labelled me his preferred cousin; he was the only one who I allowed to embrace me. I gently put my own arms around him and, a little stiffly, patted his back in a way that I hoped would be comforting. 'You are a representative of the Black family - remember that.' I added after his hug began lasting much longer than I was

He eventually left go and grinned at me once before hopping onto the train, his eyes shining with anticipation. I stepped back then and took a position by the platform wall, observing the rest of the people around me. My eyes fell on Mr and Mrs Potter hugging goodbye to their son, who I remembered was called James, and I shifted further away from them. I could not afford to be recognised by them in such a public place. It struck me how lovingly they waved off their only child which was quite different to the stoic farewells I had received when I still attended Hogwarts. Narcissa glanced in my direction as she and Lucius went to board the train and she smiled at me over the many heads in between us. I nodded in her direction and then looked back towards the door Sirius had entered the train through. James Potter was now passing through that same door and I silently cursed the Sorting Hat.

There was a loud whistle signalling the train was leaving and I watched the steam engine chug out of the platform, sincerely glad that at Hogwarts Sirius would be out of the clutches of my belovéd aunt. I waited until the steam engine was out of sight before spinning on the spot and Disapparating.

That evening I received a letter as I was preparing to leave for dinner at my parent's house and opened my bedroom window to allow the large grey owl entry to my bedroom. It held out its leg and I removed the envelope it bore. As soon as it was relieved of its task, the owl flapped back out of my window and off into the night. I stared after it for a moment before turning my attention to the letter in my hands.

Dear Dromeda,

The Hat put me in Gryffindor. I don't know what to say except mother's going to murder me. Narcissa's already been to see Dumbledore and demand I be moved to Slytherin so he will likely allow the change.

But, dear cousin, I must confess something to you which you cannot tell anyone else. I asked the Hat not to put me in Slytherin. In fact, I wanted to be put in Gryffindor. I made a friend on the train there, he's called James Potter, and, well, he was saying how he wanted to be in Gryffindor like his father and I realised we'd never be friends if I was put in Slytherin.

I remember what you said at the platform but Dromeda you and I both know my mother's wrath. Please don't let anyone know I wrote to you about becoming 'Gryffindor scum' and I'm sorry.

Love,

Sirius

I swore. Loudly.

Then, after regaining my composure, I left my house and Apparated to the front steps of my family home. Pooky let me in and took my cloak as my mother entered the entrance hall. I curtsied to her and together we headed into the dining room, where my father already sat at the head of the table glowering at everything in his line of sight. Once more I curtsied and took my usual seat, Narcissa's usually occupied chair remaining noticeably empty. The food arrived and I waited until both my parents had eaten their first bite of food before I put a piece of roast chicken to my mouth.

'Walburga wrote to me just minutes before your arrival.' my mother informed the table at large. 'Apparently, young Sirius has been placed in Gryffindor.' she gloated, putting great emphasis on the final word of her statement. I kept my eyes on my dinner and pushed my boiled potatoes around my plate.

'Gryffindor?' my father asked sneeringly and my mother laughed smugly.

'Yes, my dear, Walburga managed to taint the Black family line. I always thought she'd be the one to produce shameful offspring.' My father's face hardened slightly. 'Of course, it was no fault of your parents but Walburga has always been-'

'Perhaps we should move away from slandering my sister.' My father's voice was cold, though I knew better than to think this due to affection for my aunt. My father, Cygnus Black, cared for very few things in life and the things he did care for were wealth and exercising his power over others wherever possible.

'Very well.' smirked my mother. 'At least I didn't give birth to a piece of Gryffindor scum!'

'And you produced a daughter who is mad!' my father snapped and I heard the scraping of his chair as he rose out of it.

'Through no fault of mine!' screeched my mother as she too stood up. 'I wasn't the one who introduced her to the Lestranges. I told you they were not acceptable company but you still chose to continue their acquaintance!'

'I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO IN SUCH A MANNER!' my father bellowed, storming towards my mother and seizing her wrist so that their faces were inches apart. He slapped her so forcefully in the face it caused a few droplets of blood to fly from her mouth. She stood there for a moment, shaking with rage and fear, before she turned and swept from the room, one pale hand held up to her rapidly bruising cheek.

I remained where I was, silent and frozen to my seat, watching my father's livid face glower after his wife. His black eyes were filled with an icy flame that flickered and danced in and out of view. Slowly, he returned to his seat and drank his full goblet of wine in one gulp. He barked for another serving and Pooky scurried to pour him some more scarlet liquid, letting out a small squeak when he wrenched the decanter out of her grasp.

'I shall visit aunt Walburga tomorrow, father,' I told him quietly. 'And offer our condolences.' He grunted and swallowed another large quantity of wine. We remained in the dining room for another hour, eating in absolute silence and my father getting steadily more intoxicated as each second ticked by. Once I'd finished my meal, I excused myself and collected my coat before returning to my own house.

I was a woman of my word and the very next day I found myself using the silver doorknocker in the form of a twisted serpent on the door of number 12 Grimmauld Place. There I waited for what seemed an age and I examined my nails as a source of entertainment while I stood awaiting my aunt's house elf Kreacher to slouch towards the heavy-set door and complete the incredibly difficult task of opening it. My black nail varnish grew surprisingly dull to observe so instead I contented myself with spying on the Muggles walking passed on the pavement. Orion Black, my uncle, had placed as many spells on this house as possible to make it virtually undetectable to those classed as unwanted visitors which made the steps up to the front door the ideal place for me to watch the monotonous lives of the non-magical community unfold on the street; it always amused me how Muggles apparently had no qualms with arguing about extremely private matters in the middle of the pavement, practically announcing to the rest of the world what their problem was. I supposed my upbringing made such an activity laughably foolhardy as I had been raised from a young age to keep all family issues internal. Many people suspected what happened behind the closed doors of the Sacred Twenty-eight but as to actually knowing they were completely in the dark because no truly pureblooded family would ever involve other outside parties in their nefarious and blood-tainted secrets.

My entertainment today was a young couple arguing about the female of the pair's adulterous habits. The woman seemed beside herself with tears as her significant other showered her with a tirade of insults implying her the very definition of a harlot. I shook my head with what Kingsley classed as my evil smile and produced my wand out of my black robes.

'Legilimens.' I whispered, pointing my wand at the male of the two. At once my mind was presented with a great rush of images including rather scandalous ones of the male in question with a red-headed female, who was most definitely not the woman he was currently spitting at. I internally commanded for the images to stop and I searched the memory of him and the red head for any clue as to her identity. My eyes fell on the desk the two were in a compromising position on and a small laugh bubbled out of me. 'What about the receptionist?' I murmured and as I spoke, I pointed my wand at my mouth so my words formed before my eyes in an ancient italic script. Blowing them in the direction of the female on the pavement, I watched the words enter her head via her ear and replaced my wand in my pocket as she voiced my exact question.

The door opened behind me, interrupting my newfound merriment, and I turned to face the house elf, who was muttering to himself. Kreacher was disgustingly dressed in a filthy rag and I looked down my nose at him, eyeing him with great dislike.

'Mistress Andromeda.' he said, watching me through his large, bloodshot, watery grey eyes. Kreacher bowed low, almost kissing his gnarled toes, and stepped aside to allow me entrance. I swept inside and the door slammed shut of its own accord as Kreacher began to shuffle along the dimly lit hallway, leading the way into the drawing room. He knocked on the drawing room door and was told to enter so I opened it and strode into the darkly furnished room. My aunt Walburga had arranged herself across the chaise lounge in a mountain of black silks and lace, her sallow face watching me beadily as I curtsied.

'Andromeda.' she greeted coldly and I looked blankly back.

'I am here to offer condolences on the behalf of my father and mother.' I informed her expressionlessly. Her bulging eyes studied me for a minute.

'I am most thankful.' There was silence for a moment. 'That piece of filthy scum!' she suddenly burst out and got up from her seat. 'He's an abomination! Shame of my flesh!' Walburga began to stride about her drawing room shouting obscenities and I could tell she had been storing up these words for hours. 'Tainting the Black family bloodline! Disgrace to the family honour! Blood traitor! Mudblood lover!'

'Perhaps, dear aunt,' I said quietly, bringing an end to her raging speech. 'We should seek the advantages in this situation.'

'There is only dishonour here!'

'I disagree.' She looked at me furiously but said nothing, seating herself back on her chaise lounge. I took this as an invitation to continue. 'The Dark Lord looks for followers, does he not?'

'I do not see any ad-'

'I think we should regard Sirius' placement as of great benefit to upholding the family name. Now we have an active member in the lion's den and this member will be our asset to delivering a whole new set of followers to the Dark Lord. Gryffindors are renowned for their bravery after all and such followers would be of much value.'

'And think how the Black family will be rewarded.' My aunt's eyes were glowing and her face obviously envisaging the glory that would in her mind be bestowed on her. 'I'm still not having him in the house.'

'Then he will stay with me for Christmas.' I replied and she nodded.

'I trust you, Andromeda, to keep him in line during the holidays.'

'I endeavour to serve you, dear aunt.' I curtsied and swept out of the room, pondering how much worse and in fact better our meeting could have gone.

It was only morning so I Apparated to St Mungos, ready for a full day's work. None of my colleagues had arrived as of yet which suited me for I was in no mood to listen to the dull and utterly useless alacrity to gossip about the romances among the staff of the hospital. My workspace was ready and waiting for me to continue with my analysis of a poisoned tissue, so I set about admiring how complex the blend of ingredients was to create such a death inducing elixir. As I extracted a sample of the said poison, I paused for a moment to gaze intently at the sapphire blue liquid lingering in the pipette; it sparkled with the light from the well-lit laboratory, refracting a whole plethora of colours, and I wondered at the fact that the most dangerous of magical substances were always the most beautiful. The artistry that went into creating such terrible mixtures was always incredible to me just like with Dark objects.

My silent surroundings were eventually interrupted by my vociferous co-workers discussing something menial like the weather or perhaps how fascinating it was to observe paint peeling from an aged wall. Keeping my attention focused on my work, I began to separate the ingredients of the cerulean poison in order to find the antidote. This process took less time than I had initially predicted but I was still working right up until the time that was allocated for our lunch. As the clock on the far wall revealed the time to be 1.30 pm and as my fellow researchers began to collect their bags, ready to head to the canteen for some appallingly bland food, there was a barely audible cough behind me. In reality, it was more of a petrified squeak but once I had turned around, cold expression firmly in place, and taken in the shaking form of the trainee receptionist, I realised she had intended to clear her throat rather than imitate a traumatised rat.

'T-there's an Auror t-t-to see you.' she stammered and I raised an eyebrow as she practically sprinted from the laboratory, almost falling face first as she slipped in some blood that had trickled onto the tiled floor from a workspace sporting what looked like a thawing crocodile heart. Carefully, I covered my work in a sterilised white cloth and washed my hands before collecting my handbag. I never ate in the St Mungos' staff canteen if I could help it as I had higher standards than that that was their offensive take on what an adequate meal should be. Considering St Mungos was a hospital, their canteen severely lacked in nutritional value or any value whatsoever for I felt it was easier to find something worth consuming in the bins behind a seedy-looking pub, the kind of pub that only existed down Knockturn Alley and had the tendency to serve food that maggots had already taken up residence in.

The St Mungos' lobby was filled with Wizards and Witches sporting a wide variety of ailments and a smirk formed on my lips as my eyes fell on a male who seemed to be encased in a giant pumpkin. My expression quickly returned to its cold state when I noticed the Auror leaning against the far wall who could only be the one who had sent the inept trainee to inform me of their presence. Tonks' grin seemed to radiate across the entire room and I felt myself recoil as his personal wave of positivity reached me. Unfortunately, retreating was not an option for he had already spotted me and eagerly waved in my direction. Bracing myself for the tirade of meaningless drivel that always accompanied him, I stalked over to him and was careful to keep myself out of his embracing range. Just because he had thus far not attempted to hug me didn't mean his stereo-typically Hufflepuff tendencies wouldn't show themselves.

'Dromeda!' he beamed and I looked expressionlessly back. How had he found out where I worked? This question preoccupied my thoughts for a while, during this time Tonks began to babble about something or other, and then Kingsley's amused face drifted into my mind. Of course, he had told the blithering idiot before me where I worked, knowing full well I would then be visited by him and forced to bare witness to his overbearing cheerfulness. 'So, Kingsley said you have your lunch break now and I thought that we could eat somewhere.'

I eyed him in steely silence, still internally raging that another one of my Tonks free places had been invaded by this smiling pustule of a man.

'D'you think she's being arrested?' a gleeful voice whispered nearby and this inquiry was swiftly met by a set of incredibly irking giggles. I had always prided myself in excellent eavesdropping skills. 'About time…'

'It will have to be somewhere Muggle.' I informed Tonks coldly and, if it were possible, his smile widened and his eyes seemed to dance in jubilation. He really was far too happy.

'Wicked!' Without warning, he grasped my arm tightly and Apparated the pair of us into a side alley that led onto a bustling street. 'I'm a regular at this place and I promise you, they have the best food around. Okay… Maybe I'm a bit bias but you're going to love their food! Trust me you will!' I followed Tonks silently. 'D'you eat in Muggle restaurants a lot? I do but that's cos I always think there's a bigger range of them. Wizards only have a few pubs…' As tempting as it was to recommend one of the restaurants on Knockturn Alley, knowing Tonks would most certainly visit it, I sadly couldn't bring myself to do such a misdemeanant thing to the far too gullible Hufflepuff. Perhaps the effects of Tonks' mind numbing chatter were already sinking in. 'I've always been massively into food – all my family actually. My parents always gave me massive portions and when I see them now they're exactly the same. Apparently, I look underfed.' He laughed loudly and demonstrated his unique skill of essentially deafening anyone in the vicinity with his jovial roar.

We turned towards a café with large neon signs and Tonks pushed open the door, holding it open for me. I muttered my thanks as I swept inside the café and then looked uncertainly around. But before I could truly take in my surroundings, and get a clear idea of all the possible exits, a plump, rosy cheeked, woman came bustling up to us and wrapped her arms tightly around Tonks.

'Ted!' she cried and then turned her attention to me. 'You've brought a friend!' I took in her thick fair hair and delighted expression, putting two and two together; this was evidently Tonks' mother. Without warning, she hugged me also and I stood frozen to the spot, unsure of how to react to this abrupt display of affection. She pulled back and pinched my cheek. 'Dark hair, dark eyes, you must be Andromeda.'

'It's a pleasure to meet you.' I said politely, glad she was no longer embracing me.

'Just as beautiful as Ted described!' she gushed and twinkled warmly at Tonks, who grinned back though his neck was slightly pink. I internally cursed Kingsley for causing me to be around two highly buoyant people all in one sitting.

'Dromeda, this is my mum-'

'Helen.' Mrs Tonks cut across and began to chivvy us over to a table near the back of the café. We reached it and she ushered us into our seats, beaming in my direction; I took my seat stiffly and waited with apprehension for one of the Tonks' to speak again. 'You two look at your menus and I'll be back in a few minutes.'

I began to peruse the menu she eagerly pressed into my hands before all but skipping off through a door I assumed led to the kitchen. Tonks sent me a sheepish smile over the top of his own menu which I ignored, focusing on the soup selection.

'This café belongs to my family.' Tonks told me slightly apologetically.

'How fascinating.' I responded and the grin on his pathetic face clearly indicated he had missed my sarcasm. It really was a shame my scathing comments were wasted on him.

'Yeah, my parents got it as a wedding present from my grandparents and they've run it ever since. I've been running around in that kitchen for as long as I can remember and I used to help cook during the holidays.' Across the café floated the sound of a Muggle artist and I attempted to drown out Tonks' voice by concentrating on the song's words and melody. It was not a fast tune and the lyrics clearly indicated a song about love but despite my usual disdain for such sentimental themes in music, it was much more pleasant to the ears than listening to Tonks drone on about having a job at his parents' café. 'You meet really interesting people working here. Wonderful people. They're always a laugh and the older folks always have the best stories.'

'Have you two decided what you're having?' Mrs Tonks had returned with a small notebook and was poised, ready to write, with a small black object which produced ink when Tonks told his mother he wanted a portion of smoked salmon and scrambled eggs. I observed it with interest but stopped when she turned to me with a fond expression. 'And you, Andromeda?'

'I'll have the broccoli soup.'

'Of course!' She winked at the two of us. 'I'll leave you two to it.' And then she left, leaving me feeling even more uncomfortable than I had been before. Tonks on the other hand seemed completely unfazed and beamed at me.

'Did you see the Daily Prophet this morning?' he asked me but didn't wait for a response – not that I had been intending to reply. 'That article about the flying toads they found in Newcastle made me laugh. Just imagine that! Toads just flying everywhere and Ministry officials running around trying to catch them.' Tonks chuckled lightly, a pleasant contrast from his usual roar. 'Toads are brilliant, aren't they? I had one at Hogwarts – called him Jason. He died last year but he was bloody hilarious. Somehow, he'd always end up stuck on the back of Dumbledore's chair at the staff table. I'd have to wait until everyone had left the Great Hall so that I could rescue him. One time Dumbledore actually came to our common room and gave him to me.' This time his laugh returned to its disgustingly loud volume and I was forced to endure the cheerful nature that came with it. He began to sing along to the song playing in the background and although I would indulge Tonks in describing his voice to be passable, he lacked accomplishment in the field of dulcet and melodious singing. 'Your eyes are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen.' he intoned and I straightened my napkin, which lay just to right of me on the table.

There were two positives to lunching with Tonks which didn't quite equate to the level of my suffering but they certainly provided a little compensation. The first was that, as we had eaten in his family's establishment, the meal was free and the second was that Tonks' inability to fall silent once he had begun blathering meant that I was required to say nothing whatsoever and only nod at random intervals to look like I was in fact paying attention rather than envisaging something fascinating like a piece of parchment slowly falling to the floor.

We walked along the street in the direction of the alleyway we had Apparated into, Tonks listing his fabled top ten favourite animals. To my disgust, each individual creature had its own tangent which he was able to go off on and I experimented with how many Muggles I could intimidate by glowering at them. I had just turned my face away from making a small boy cry when Tonks directly addressed me with a question, expecting me to respond.

'What's your favourite animal, Dromeda?' I glanced at him coolly, with a single raised eyebrow, but he grinned back, sliding his hands casually into the pockets of his Muggle trousers.

'An Augurey.' He seemed strangely surprised by my answer, though I could see no reason why, and then he laughed uncertainly as we turned into the alley.

'An Irish Phoenix?'

'I believe that is what I said.' I observed him coldly for a moment and then Disapparated, leaving Tonks behind with an appraising expression that was strangely blissful.

The rest of my work day was uneventful but excessively draining so I was glad when the time came to Apparate back to outside my front door. A light drizzle had started and the little speckles of water tickled my face in what I deemed quite a refreshing way. Due to my enjoyment of the rain, it took me a few moments to notice that the wooden wedge I placed in my doorway had fallen to the floor. Upon instinct, I pulled out my wand, holding it like a sword before me, and silently nudged my front door with one black high heeled foot. It creaked easily open and I edged into my hallway, gently shutting the door behind me.

The house was silent and still, with no sign of movement in the dark hallway. No eerily looming shadows met my vision. No heavily breathing mutant made their way slowly towards me, bring with them a sickening stench of decaying cadavers like those in the Black family tomb. No single figure revealed themselves to me, their silhouette tall and like choking black smoke.

Nothing.

Nothing, except the ever-ticking grandfather clock, which I could hear heralding the hour of nine from my dining room. I took a further step into the hallway, my breath heightening considerably despite the seeming lack of a malignant presence. Noting that the door to the library was slightly ajar, I closed my eyes briefly, forcefully taking control of the pace of my breathing, and moved silent as the grave towards the open door, wand still held aloft. By the door I paused, straining my eyes to peer into the dark room and towards the large mullioned window. My heart leapt into my throat as I took in the tall figure illuminated by the moonlight as they looked out over the courtyard behind my house, leading to a large set of stables and, without wishing to brag, my slightly extensive grounds, courtesy of my parents and my income from the St Mungos' laboratory. Straightening my black dress and cloak, I took a deep breath, a small wish to speak to Kingsley forming in my head though it vanished as I closed my mind, and moved into the room, with my usual grace and emotionless air.

'My Lord.' I murmured, curtsying low. I heard him turn away from the window, but I did not dare look up at him; I did not dare to see the inevitable red slits glowing in the dark as he regarded me with displeasure.

'Andromeda,' he crooned. I could hear the slither of his robes against the parquet floor as he moved towards me and my breath caught in my chest. 'I seek your audience.'

'Anything you wish, my Lord.' I replied, my voice barely audible. I bit back a gasp as his hand moved so close to my cheek I thought he might smack me but instead he seemed to produce a single sapphire earring, which gleamed as it caught the moonlight, out of nowhere.

'Perhaps you could look at this.' I cautiously straightened and with a click of my fingers, the candles in the library all ignited. He held the earring right before my eyes and I examined it carefully. I placed a little of my cloak fabric over my forefinger and then rested against the earring, feeling a faint pulse resist my touch.

'That is a horcrux, my Lord.' I said, glancing at him uncertainly. The Dark Lord's eyes were not scarlet and portrayed a small amount of pleasure at my statement.

'Indeed, Andromeda.' He stepped back, taking the earring with him, and I felt my own heartbeat decrease in pace. 'I wish you to identify its owner.'

'M-my lord, Mr Borgin is far more knowledgeable in the subject of Dark objects a-'

'Mr Borgin is an expert in identifying and accessing the value of Dark objects. Your skills, so your elder sister informs me, are much more accomplished in the field I require.' He regarded me with a faint trace of red flickering in his lifeless pupils. 'I wish you to identify the horcrux's owner.'

'I endeavour to serve you, my Lord.' I responded, bowing deeply.

'And how much can you identify so far?' His question shocked me slightly but I peered at the earring, scanning it for the most minute detail. Then I noticed something engraved on the back of the sapphire jewel itself.

'There is a crest...' I leant closer. 'It is a Wizarding coat of arms I am sure… I believe one of the Sacred Twenty-eight…' My pureblood knowledge did come in useful on occasion even if it mainly comprised of how exactly one should pour tea without scolding the arm of a distant widowed aunt and other such frivolous activities. 'Perhaps – perhaps a Selwyn…'

'A Selwyn female.' the Dark Lord murmured to himself, tilting the earring slightly so he could just see the crest.

'Or a rather rebellious male.' I suggested, making sure not to look at his face.

'Perhaps.' he agreed softly. 'However, Andromeda, I require a more detailed identification than the owner's family name. There are many Selwyns after all.'

'Indeed, my Lord… May I suggest we relocate ourselves to a more suitable location?' The Dark Lord did not verbally respond but I took his silence to mean his agreement with my statement. I led the way through my house and out of the back door into the cobbled courtyard; it was dark so I lit my wand, guiding him towards the stables at the opposite end. The night air was cold, rain-filled and sharp, the wind slicing against my cheeks as it engaged in a bitter battle with my balance to induce my falling backwards. Fortunately, as we neared the stable, it gave us an excellent wind shield and I was spared from knocking into the Dark Lord.

We entered the stable, which smelled slightly musty, and moved passed an empty water trough towards the tip of a staircase leading down into the depths of the ground. The stone steps were slippery due to a leak in the roof above, which always seemed to drip water onto them even when it wasn't raining, and I held the wand light high enough so that the Dark Lord could see where his feet tread as he didn't have the inclination to use his own.

Eventually, the steps led to an archaic oak door and, upon seeing this, the Dark Lord moved passed me, reaching out to the door handle.

'My Lord,' I said with a humbling bow, 'I am afraid I must be the one to open the door. It will only reveal the room we require at my touch – of course I can change this should you wish; I have a rather large collection of Dark objects in here which may be to your taste.' The wand light did not reveal his expression but I took comfort in the fact that there was a lack of glowing scarlet in the vicinity. Placing my palm flat on the gnarled old door, I waited and a second later, the door swung open to show a pitch black space that not even the bluish light from my wand could illuminate. The dark was like a solid wall made of choking soot and I extinguished my wand light before entering the room. At once, the section where I stood was filled with light as two torch brackets on either side of the large basement kindled into action.

Beside the door was a small tray containing two sets of black gloves and I offered a pair to the Dark Lord, who accepted them wordlessly, sliding them onto his long, elegant fingers. I put on my own pair and began to stride further into the room. Where I walked, followed by the Dark Lord, who swept behind me in his black robes like a shadow, more torches flickered and lit themselves.

'You do indeed have quite the collection.' he observed, as we passed case after case of fantastically Dark objects. I nodded in agreement, looking down at a small jewelled egg, whose silver legs were making it run around its display case. The Dark Lord stopped before it and knelt down slightly to watch its performance, his face displaying curious interest.

'Its feet contain a rather rare poison that stimulate its movements.' I said, sensing he wished an explanation. 'If they touch someone's bare skin that person will die instantly.'

'And you bought this from Mr Borgin?'

'I purchased the egg in an antique's shop and later discovered its particular talents when testing a set of poisons delivered to the St Mungos' research laboratory.' The Dark Lord regarded the egg for a little longer but then indicated we could continue moving forwards. However, our progress was impeded when he came across a rather marvellous assortment of cursed crystals that levitated in their container, each one glowing a deep red from within their soot colouring. 'They attract a variety of Dark creatures to the holder.' I informed him and he admired them for a second before we continued on our way. We reached the end of the room and I pushed open a door on the back wall which led into a spacious study that was lined with books and had a single window, bewitched to show the weather outside.

I crossed to behind the desk and conjured a second chair for the Dark Lord. He took it, the chair looked rather like an ornate silver throne, and I seated myself in the leather back chair I always resided in when examining my object of interest. The study was brightly lit by a large candle chandelier and I reached into one of the desk drawers to produce a magnifying glass that had several lenses attached to it that all had engravings along the side of them. The Dark Lord gave me the earring and I held it before the magnifying glass, flicking another lens, engraved with the word curses, into place so that I peered through it and the main magnification lens. To the naked eye, curses were only detectable on an object by their faint blurred layer encasing it but with this lens the curses would colour slightly, enabling me to identify them.

Separating the actual decorative part of the earring from its backing, I realised the pulse of the horcrux was missing from the sapphire jewel so I replaced it on the desk and turned my attention to the backing. Observing it through my magnifying glass, I saw its blurred coating split into to three distinct layers of varying shades of green.

'My Lord, it will take a few hours for me to neutralise the curses and reach the actual horcrux so I can work out the owner's identity.' I said, watching him with slight apprehension. The Dark Lord regarded me from his throne like chair and then nodded.

'Very well, Andromeda.' he murmured softly, his voice raising the hairs on the back of my neck. 'I shall browse your rather large selection of prose.'

And so the next few hours followed in complete silence with the exception of my constant whispering of counter curses and the sound of a page turning or the Dark Lord adjusting his seating position. I was extremely tense throughout which was extremely strange considering I had one of the most powerful and dangerous Wizards of all time seated just mere centimetres away from my desk. The curses on the earring back had been cast surprisingly lazily considering the value of the object in my gloved hand and therefore proved easy enough to remove. The problem lay in the number of curses placed on the horcrux and meant it took me an age to deactivate them all but after 3 hours I had finished.

Standing up, I pointed my wand at the earring back, making sure it was at exactly a right angle with it, and hissed a few words in parseltongue. I had self-taught myself this language as many Dark objects were enchanted with evil, ancient magic with the incantations being in the serpentine language. At the sound of my hiss, the Dark Lord looked in my direction and we both watched the name Patrick Selwyn float lazily into the air in a Gothic silver script, hanging there for an eerily long time before vanishing with the sound of echoing laughter.

The silence that followed was so dense it almost choked my lungs and I found that my breathing had increased into something that resembled Tonks' when he arrived late to an Order meeting. Despite the flickering candles, the study seemed dark and I repressed an involuntary shiver as I glanced apprehensively at the Dark Lord's scarlet eyes that seemed to turn to fire in the candlelight. The earring back lay on the desk, its presence so overwhelming in nature that its shadow seemed to loom large, engulfing the desk in a dark inky black. The echoing laughter still raged in the depths of my brain, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand alert and waiting as though a guttural voice would soon be whispering my very death from behind me.

'I must thank you for your assistance, Andromeda,' the Dark Lord purred, his strangely icy breath washing all over me as he reached out and took the earring back, leaving the sapphire jewel on the desk, dancing in the lambent candlelight. 'It was most,' he paused for a moment, regarding the earring back in his black gloved hand, 'illuminating.'. I curtsied low and briefly kissed his free hand, not once looking into his vermilion-eyed face.

Then, he Disapparated, the only indicator of his previous presence a thin collection of ashy smoke haunting the air.

I remained where I was, staring at the spot he had formerly occupied, thanking the stars of the night sky that I was still there, simply breathing and just seeing the room around me. It seemed foolish to recall that mere hours ago my discomfort had been caused by having to spend the entirety of a lunch meal in the company of Tonks. The look on the idiot's delighted face when I had agreed to eat in his presence swum into view but it was quickly banished by the image of Kingsley giggling to himself about the situation he knew he would have caused; it reminded me of my desire to converse with him and I set off back towards my living room so that I could use the fireplace, so grateful that I was still there that I did not even feel the slightest bit of resentment towards how much the rain drenched me during my journey across the courtyard.

The interior of Dumbledore's office and the sight of his despicable Phoenix did little but irk me as I swept inside, carelessly slamming the door behind me upon my entrance. I strode across the office, casting a glare in the direction of Fawkes, purposefully ignoring Dumbledore's company as I made my way along the parquet floor. The impatient click of my high heeled buckled boots did only emphasise my mind set and I fixed the Hogwarts headmaster with an imperious glower, making sure to look down my nose at him in superior fashion.

'Andromeda.' he greeted with a polite smile, his face displaying evident surprise at my arrival.

'Dromeda!' Tonks cried and his voice rang with disgusting enthusiasm. I did not bat a single eyelash in his direction but continued to regard Dumbledore superciliously, my eyes flashing with displeasure.

'Perhaps, Ted, you could leave us for a minute. We shall be brief, I am sure.' Dumbledore informed his guest pleasantly and I could feel a certain smugness developing in my mind as Tonks sent me a sheepish grin, leaving the room in a merry manner and closing the door behind him with an almost silent click compared with the crash of when I had shut it behind my person. Instinctively, I cast a silencing charm on the heavy-set oak door and then Stunned each of the supposedly snoozing portraits one by one. 'So, to what do I owe this pleasure?' Dumbledore inquired, his piecing blue eye examining my own darkest brown ones curiously.

'I have news.'

'Indeed?' His intrigue seemed to grow and when I remained silent, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his large desk, observing me as though I were a fascinating book he wished to read.

'Patrick Selwyn,' I said plainly, my face monotone, 'will be either dead by this evening or the Dark Lord's most recent recruit.'

'That information is most useful, Andromeda. I thank you for visiting me at such an early hour.' There was a momentary pause and I examined my black nail varnish with distaste; it had chipped slightly on my right index finger thus ruining the overall effect of my painted nails. 'But this is not why you are here… There is something else…'

'Selwyn has created a horcrux, which the Dark Lord wished me to identify and so he will likely have destroyed it.' I responded, gazing out of the large mullioned windows at the ground lit by the weakest of sunrises.

'That is incredibly likely.' Dumbledore agreed, the creak of his chair indicating he had leaned back once more and, though I could not see his face, I could sense him regarding me shrewdly. 'And yet, my dear Andromeda, I spy there is still more you wish to relay.'

'You are quite the omniscient wizard.' I replied sneeringly, twirling my wand lazily between my fingers. Silence. 'The Dark Lord seemed concerned.'

'Why are you telling me this, Andromeda?' Dumbledore asked abruptly. I turned sharply to face him. 'You do your part for the Order with your trips to Knockturn Alley and informing me of when there may or may not be a Death Eater march, which is incredibly dangerous in itself, but this – this is different from either of those. You risk a great deal more in telling me this, much more than usual, and yet… And so, I ask why? Why are you telling me this? Why are you telling me something that risks something greater than suspicion from Voldemort regarding the fact that perhaps one of his followers may not be as loyal as he has perceived them to be? This information can only be traced to you, for I am sure he told no one else of this sensitive topic, and as such leaves you in mortal peril. Yet, you stand here telling me this – why?'

'You ask why?' I hissed, my eyes narrowing dangerously. 'You are the leader of an organisation who's aim is to bring about the destruction of the Dark Lord, who I have just informed you is concerned that another makes horcruxes, and you ask why?'

Dumbledore's bright blue eyes widened slightly and then he brought the tips of his long fingers together, surveying me over his half-moon spectacles. I stood before him, my face reflecting the deepest calm but my insides seething.

'I am intrigued, Andromeda, for I believe we may be in agreement over a notion that has most recently occurred to me.' The headmaster smiled but I did not return it, raising a single eyebrow to reflect my feelings.

'How nice for you.' I answered scathingly.

'Quite so.' Dumbledore nodded. 'We are of the same mind then, that Voldemort may be creating horcruxes for himself?'

'I am not arrogant enough to assume I understand the brilliant mind of the Dark Lord.' I responded, closing my mind and fixing him with a coldly indifferent expression.

'Andromeda, you and I both know your intelligence could easily rival that of Lord Voldemort's.' My entire posture seemed to stiffen as I tilted my head a little upwards so that I was regarding Dumbledore from over the tip of my nose.

'My intelligence,' I spat, 'is mediocre in comparison as that would also make me a rival of your own and I am most certain you would never regard me as an intellectual equal.' There was blatant surprise now in those vividly blue eyes and I felt satisfied that I was solely responsible for Dumbledore's shock.

'You believe Voldemort to be making horcruxes.' Dumbledore said, recovering himself after a moments pleasant silence, his voice strangely eager as he returned the conversation to where he had previously still been comfortable. 'At least you have implied to me what your belief is.'

'I have merely given you the facts. What you believe I am implying is personal interpretation.' I answered coolly.

'There is no point denying me, Andromeda.' Dumbledore said shortly. 'You have already made your mindset very clear.'

'This conversation is incredibly cyclical.' I stated, turning to leave. 'Make of my information what you will, Dumbledore.' And then I left, ignoring Tonks, who had been waiting outside the door and smiled at me the moment it opened, as I strode down the revolving staircase.

A sleek black owl awaited me when I returned home after a long day's work and I regarded it cautiously, walking once around it in order to examine it fully before I reached out and quickly snatched the letter it bore out of its shadowy beak. The thick, heavy, yellow parchment was ice cold to touch and, as my bare finger made contact with the envelope, my exposed skin burned despite the only slight difference in temperature between my own hand and the parchment. However, I scarcely flinched and sliced open the envelope with a swiftly cast Severing Charm. The letter inside was inscribed on a sheet blackened parchment that seemed almost to be woven of shadows and the things feared to lurk in the late hours of the night. But what made the letter freeze the bone marrow was that the letters on the page were printed in a red ink that I knew to be blood.

The words upon the page were brief and I knew as I read them that I would be obedient to the summons I had received even if it meant the presence of my quickening heart rate and deathly pale complexion. I could not bring myself to make the journey up to my boudoir so I simply used my wand to summon my black hooded robes and silver mask to the spot I stood on. The two objects arrived in my hands and I pulled them on hastily, adjusting my mask slightly so that it completely obscured my face, and then left the falsely seeming safety of my home.

I Disapparated.

The building I rematerialized before was the house of my elder sister Bella and her husband Rodolphus. The two had lived here together since the day of their marriage and supposedly consummated their union within the walls of the very structure before me. A slight shiver ran down my back but I contained myself, striding purposefully towards the front door with a knocker made of a human skull. It was sad really, observing their house, for the building before me was them embodiment of a house belonging to one of the Sacred Twenty-eight; its walls held a story of great tragedy, of fear and horror, of violence and bloodshed. The Lestranges were infamous for being one of the Houses with the most bloodied histories and my sister had married into it. They were notoriously violent and the stories of the many female Lestranges that had gone missing or had been found as mangled corpses ran rampant about the pureblood society I inhibited. To think my own sister had been joined to such a family had scared me greatly at the time of her marriage but she was just the same as her husband; the trail of deaths that stalked my sister were enough to rival that of the entire Lestrange family and, although once I had feared for her, I now knew her to be far crueller than my sympathy could stretch.

With a deep breath that seemed to inflate the entirety of my being, I knocked on the front door. It creaked open at once and I made sure my hood was securely in place before walking along a carpeted corridor into the exceptionally large dining room. Inside was an incredibly elongated dining table with chairs all along it seemingly made of white stone, though I knew them to be made of the bones of the countless Muggles that had been victims of the Lestranges' obsession with Muggle-baiting. And at the far end of the room stood an iron throne of sorts that seemed to pierce the air with its numerous spikes, the scarlet painted engravings along its edges looking like blood trickling its way down to the marble floor. Seated in this throne was the Dark Lord, his own black eyes seemingly staring into my mind and soul; I closed my mind and curtsied low. He beckoned me with one long, elegant finger and I swept forward, pressing a light kiss on his extended hand out of respect. As I straightened myself once more, I noted my sister and her husband hand entered behind the throne, flanking it like two leering silhouettes. I stepped back a little and waited for one of them to speak.

'Remove your mask, Andromeda.' the Dark Lord instructed, rising from his throne with a casual air that still radiated power. I dutifully followed his command and removed the silvery mask from about my face, holding it in my hands, hoping to hide the fact that they shook ever so slightly. 'And now your hood.' Again, I obeyed him, allowing my dark brown hair to tumble down my back in soft curls.

The Dark Lord began to walk around me, examining me as though I were a jewel for sale in Diagon Alley, his eyes roving all about my person. I did not dare look him in the eye and settled for searching my sister's face. Bella's face was filled with its usual cold sneer but her own black orbs sparkled with the smallest hint of envy and I raised by eyebrow slightly in her direction. Her lips curled into an unpleasant smile and then she pointedly brought Rodulphus' hand onto one of her thighs.

I stifled a gasp as the Dark Lord's stone-cold forefinger traced my left cheekbone. He stroked it along the top of my lip and then down to the tip of my chin. His milk white fingers tilted my head upwards to face his own strangely snake-like face. I took in his pitch-black eyes and wrestled the desire to run, looking up at him with a determinately blank expression.

'Andromeda, you have been of great service.' he murmured so that only I could hear him. 'You have pleased me.'

'I live to serve you, my Lord.' I responded, wishing I could look away from his dark pupils.

'I believe we have much to discuss.' he purred and led me out into the corridor and up a large staircase into a room with lots of silk furnishings that would undoubtedly bring me nightmares for years to come.

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