Bellatrix.
What kind of woman could feel such distain for her own sister because of who she fell in love with? What kind of woman could side with her parents and never speak to her sister again? What kind of woman could be capable of such hate? Such spite?
Bellatrix.
What kind of aunt could look in the eyes of her beaten niece and feel no pity? What kind of aunt could watch her tremble and not rush to her side? What kind of aunt could cause the trembling? What kind of aunt could end her niece's life?
Bellatrix.
What kind of cousin could kill her uncle's son? What kind of cousin could rejoice after doing so? WHat kind of cousin could carry that guilt? Or worse yet, what kind of cousin felt no guilt at all?
Bellatrix.
What kind of wife could be so loyal to an evil wizard, but care nothing for her husband? What kind of wife could cling to each of her master's words so, but ignore what her husband had to say? What kind of wife could love such a dark, deadly man, while her husband had to cope?
Bellatrix.
What kind of relative could orphan her great-nephew? What kind of relative could take away a little boy's chance to know his parents, let alone her own family? What kind of relative could inflict so much damange without a single thought of remorse?
Bellatrix.
What kind of sister could do this?
Bellatrix.
But yet....
Was I, Andromeda Tonks, much better?
What kind of sister could feel even a brief moment of joy upon hearing news of her sister's death? What kind of sister could celebrate news that makes her living sister to grieve? What kind of sister could be so shameful?
Me.
What kind of woman could be so distant from her family? What kind of woman could digust her family so much, they join the other side of a war? What kind of woman could grow up the best of friends with her sister, but let it end like this?
Me.
What kind of aunt could be happy while her nephew deals with losing his other aunt? What kind of aunt could have never met the nephew, and hardly know what he looks like?
Me.
What kind of grandmother would have to raise her grandson because his parents died? What kind of grandmother could never say, "Go see grandpa"? What kind of grandmother was all alone, except for this young child, hardly a month old?
Me.
What kind of wife could wave her husband off? What kind of wife could never see him again? What kind of wife was now a widow? What kind of wife forgot to say, "I love you"?
Me.
What kind of a sister could have both fond and horrific memories of her sister, but had to be content with memories?
Me.
And now, I would raise my grandson, Teddy, as well as I could. True, I wasn't as young as I used to be, but there isn't a choice in the matter.
He needs me. I'm all he has left.
I need him. He's all I have left.