Chapter 5) The Black Family Lullaby

Selected Listening: Another Story- Nicholas Hooper

When Anastasia finally caught her breath and found a proper tissue for her tears instead of Fred's shirt, it was nearly dinner time. The group lounged in the dimly lit living room, waiting on the adults to finish up, catching each other up on the summer's events.

Anastasia sat on a threadbare chaise next to Fred and explained most of what happened in the small village.

"Why did she insist you go anyway?" Hermione said when Anastasia finished her story about being followed through the streets by an unnamed presence.

Anastasia shrugged. She twisted her fingers together on top of her knees.

"Not sure. It was kind of boring," she finished. She didn't know why she felt like she needed to keep the truth about the coming hospital visits a secret. Maybe because of the type of magic they would be using, or maybe because she didn't want to get everyone's hopes up.

"Yeah? And what does Malfoy say about Daddy Dearest being in league with Voldemort?" Harry asked in a scathing tone. Anastasia bit her lip. Everyone waited in silence for her answer.

"Draco doesn't believe that Voldemort is back…or that his father is working for him."

"You're bloody joking," Ron shot. The others scoffed in disbelief.

"He's lying. He must know. What did his mum say?" Ginny demanded. She leaned against a shabby mantle holding an unwound clock and half a dozen old photographs. Anastasia didn't miss the bite in the youngest Weasley's tone.

"Narcissa hasn't said anything about it. She seemed to know there'd be people following us…that it could be anyone."

"Paranoid they'll get caught is all," Ron barked.

"She's not a death eater," Anastasia defended.

"If Malfoy isn't lying. Isn't it odd that they're not telling him anything?" George asked. "They're his parents."

Anastasia shook her head.

"Even if it's obvious, I don't think Draco wants to admit his father's that bad of a person," she explained, "Not really."

"There's a lot of that going around…" George mentioned. When Anastasia tilted her head to the side, Fred explained.

"Percy's taken the Minister's side on everything. He got a big promotion to be his assistant."

"He what?" Anastasia started.

Fred continued disgruntledly.

"He stormed out of the house early in June. Fessed up about some other things he'd been keeping…broke mum's heart and destroyed dad." Anastasia felt another twinge of guilt in her stomach. She had known about what happened, and the Weasley's expressions showed they knew she knew.

"Best you don't mention it," Ginny said pointedly.

Anastasia nodded slowly. Percy had been struggling with his family for the past year. In a way, she wasn't surprised after what happened between him and Penelope. but she wouldn't have expected Percy to deny Voldemort's return. Maybe it wasn't only Draco who wanted to ignore the impending doom.

"I'm sorry," Anastasia offered. Ginny rolled her eyes flamboyantly.

"The real question is why don't you have bite marks on your hands?" Harry demanded as if he'd been yearning to shout it at her ever since she'd appeared.

"What are you talking about?" she gawked as Harry continued pacing the oriental rug. There was a dark rage in Harry now, a black flame behind his green eyes, one she had never seen before.

"Hedwig! I sent letters! You didn't reply. You didn't send me ANYTHING!"

Anastasia hadn't seen Hedwig all summer. But she had sent Harry a birthday present. She stared at him, looking confused.

"Dumbledore must not have told her, mate," Ron suggested. "Sure he has the power to put up wards if he wanted."

Harry stared back at her, all of his anger frozen. Hermione fretted from her seat on the piano bench, "That's ridiculous, Ronald. Of course Professor Dumbledore would tell Anastasia." Her hair bounced in the tarnished mirror behind her.

Anastasia examined them questioningly.

"Professor Dumbledore told us to not owl Harry this summer," Ron explained. "Said it'd be too dangerous with the news the way it is. He didn't want Harry getting more upset."

"Yeah, that worked out the way he planned," Harry shot and went to sulk in the corner beside George.

Anastasia stared at the battered tassels on the carpet. It was the kind of thing grandad did when she was young, lying in the name of protecting her. She never imagined he would try to do the same with Harry.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," she said. "Really…I'll talk to him. Grandad should know by now…"

"How are you taking the news lately?" George asked. "It's been nothing but garbage about him, and now the thing with the Wizengamot."

"What happened with the Wizengamot?" she panicked.

"You have read the news this week," Hermione asked, "haven't you?"

Anastasia cringed guiltily. She'd been ignoring the papers. Much like after second year, she had been overburdened with articles related to her family, and she couldn't look anymore.

George handed her the latest issue, front page news. Dumbledore Demoted- The Wizened Wizengamot. The article detailed how Albus had been removed as head of the Wizengamot council and voted out as chair of the International Confederation of Wizards.

"They…they can't be…I—" Anastasia couldn't find the words. "Grandad must have known this was happening. That's why he wanted me out of the suite. I don't understand, he'll defend anyone and everyone except himself."

And what if it was only the beginning? What if the next thing taken from him was Hogwarts? They would lose their home. It would be just as Draco said.

Anastasia felt herself being pulled down into a wide pool of despair. Her friends stared at her in pity, all struggling for the right thing to say.

"Don't feel bad, Anastasia," Fred suggested, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. She felt the warmth radiating off him and only felt guilt. "Dad says it's all stuff and nonsense anyway."

She swallowed back a new round of threatening tears.

"Right…nonsense…"

"Dinner's ready!" Tonks sang through the door frame of the kitchen. A shriek erupted about blood traitors in the house, and Anastasia was ripped from her melancholy, watching her friends run for cover in the dining room. She followed behind slowly through the hall and caught sight of a dark-haired woman yelling from her portrait, which Sirius now fought to cover with dark purple curtains.

"Don't worry about the old hag," George suggested.

"Happens five times a day, really," Fred added.

At dinner, Anastasia sat beside Hermione and across from Ginny and Tonks. On her other side, Fred tried to distract her by amusing her with the various products they had tested that summer while George quietly updated Harry on the latest business ventures.

A messy mop of a person with a smoke cloud around his head perked up and introduced himself as Mundungus Fletcher. He lit his pipe, and Molly immediately told him to put it out. He apologized and began telling Harry, Fred, and George riveting tales of his scummy business exploits. Anastasia couldn't remember him at the meeting prior, and she wondered if this man had heard all the discussion about the lifeline. If he had been there, he hadn't been asked for a vote on her presence.

Across the table, Ginny continuously shot glares in her direction. Anastasia picked at her meal and ended up maybe eating half. A dull headache began to form behind her eyes.

After dessert, the conversation turned to Voldemort and the Order and everything they were keeping from Harry. Anastasia was glad to be on the sidelines of the adults' anger this time. There was a great argument in which Ginny was sent away for being too young to hear, and Sirius finally being able to share the details of what the Order was doing.

They'd been sending envoys to tell various species—the goblins, the giants, the vela—telling all that Voldemort was back and assessing their allegiances. Sirius, Lupin, and Tonks went on about how everyone was afraid of Albus. The minister, the minister's people, and Voldemort himself.

"Mostly what we've been up to is following known death eaters and trying to keep a low profile. Fudge has it out for anyone who is associating with Dumbledore right now," Sirius explained.

Of course he did, Anastasia thought. Fudge didn't like dealing with messy things, at least that was what her grandfather told her. Anyone making a fuss over Voldemort would be considered a messy thing.

Tonks grinned brightly. "But Dumbledore said he doesn't care what they do, as long as they keep him on the chocolate frog cards!"

"He better hope he doesn't end up in Azkaban!" Molly shouted.

"Mum," Fred warned. Molly's eyes snapped to Anastasia. She seemed to forget she was there. There was a wary coldness in the Weasley mother's gaze.

Anastasia froze up again, doing her best not to go down the dark hole that swallowed her in the living room. She'd never thought about her father going to prison. She didn't think they could do that. Not to him.

She barely heard the rest of the conversation as they discussed Voldemort operating underground to gain followers, how he could gain a weapon more powerful than anything else he had in the past.

Under the table, Fred moved his hand over hers and squeezed it. She blushed, and took it back sheepishly, folding it with the other on her lap.

When Molly decided they'd been fed enough information as minors, she rushed them all to bed. They found Ginny on the stairs, trying to untangle the extendable ear. In the girls' bedroom, Hermione filled her in while Anastasia remained silent, preparing her own spot on the upper bunk above Hermione. Every time she made eye contact with Ginny, it seemed smoke was coming out of her nostrils.

Pajamas on, the quartz ferret in her pocket, Anastasia curled up under the striped sheets and patchwork quilt. Hermione said goodnight, turned the light off, and rolled onto the bunk below. The silence between the other two witches hung in the air like a fog.

"Ginny, I know you're mad at me." Anastasia asked in the darkness. "Is it because of Percy?"

The other bed squeaked as Ginny jolted up onto her elbow to tell her what she thought.

"No. Percy's grown, and he can make his own decisions."

"Then what—"

"I'm furious because Fred was doing well this summer, considering all you put him through last year. Really well. He had nearly gotten over the fact that Malfoy stole you away from him. And then, and then you come in and throw yourself into Fred's arms all teary-eyed and he looks at you like—"

Anastasia was glad it was dark. She wanted to argue that Draco hadn't stolen her. If he had stolen her, they'd be together. Draco pulled her away from Fred only to leave her hanging.

"Like what?" she asked in a gravelly tone.

"Like you're the only person in his world."

"But I'm not the only one…" she tried to agree.

"The point is, Fred's not the only one in your world," Ginny clarified. "If he's going look at you like that, he deserves someone who's going to look at him the same way."

Anastasia wished Fred had never been involved. She remembered how angry he'd been when he found bruises on her the year prior and what he'd assumed, and how he danced with her on the night of the Yule ball, and how he held her under the stars the night of her birthday.

"Ginny, you're right. And trust me, I'd do anything to make it so he wouldn't care about me—" Anastasia so wished she could let Fred look at her without feeling guilty that her heart was chained someplace else.

"Good. Do your part," she said shortly.

"I'm sorry?" she asked.

"Stay away from him, Anastasia. Leave him alone. We're going to be in this house together for another week before school starts. Stay away from him for his sanity, please."

"Ginny, don't you think that's a bit extreme—" Hermione tried to interrupt.

"Fine. I'll try." Anastasia said in agreement. Anything she could do to gain her trust back and help Fred. She simply couldn't date anyone until the lifeline was broken, and she couldn't encourage Fred by accident.

"But don't you think it's Fred's responsibility to—" Hermione started.

"Promise!" Ginny urged, completely ignoring Hermione.

"Okay, okay, I promise," Anastasia said.

"Good, thank you," Ginny said and flopped back down. Stillness radiated from Hermione's bunk.

Anastasia rolled over and pulled the blankets over her head, but she could not sleep. Her thoughts flew through everything that happened that day. The idea of trying to break the lifeline, being grilled by the adults about her situation, Snape's intrusive spell, Albus's continued betrayal in not telling her anything while fighting against the worst wizard in history, the thought of possibly losing everyone she loved in one way or another. Her headache raged on.

Frustrated with her unceasing consciousness, she threw herself out of the sheets to the sound of Ginny and Hermione's snores and knelt down to her rucksack at the foot of her bed. She dug out her music box and cradled it under her arm as she slipped out of the bedroom. At the end of the hall, she found a lonely sitting room with a fireplace, a mantle, and a tapestry of a tree stretched across the top. It was as good a place as any. She wound the music box and placed it open on a circular coffee table between two wing-backed armchairs. She picked the sage one on the left and sunk into the velvet fabric. The familiar melody pulled her back into a simpler time, dancing in Draco's arms.

The minute she sunk into slumber, there was a creak in the floorboard. Anastasia's eyes flashed open to find a pair of dark, hazy ones staring back at her, framed by black stringy hair. She yelped. Sirius stumbled back in his pajamas, mortified.

"I'm sorry," Anastasia apologized immediately. "Am I not supposed to be in here?"

"Um, no. I just…heard…" Sirius raised his wand to turn on the lights, and his eyes fell onto the open music box.

"Where did you find this?" he asked, tense.

"Narcissa gave it to me," she admitted. Sirius's shoulders fell in relief.

"Ah," he sighed, rubbing his eyes, "so she can't stand the sound either."

Anastasia wasn't quite sure what he meant by that. He turned around, took the other chair and reached to pick up the box.

"May I?" he asked, looking to her for permission. She nodded. Sirius took it in one hand and checked every angle of the enamel piece. "Thought I may be going mad when I heard it, but I've already done that twice and it didn't feel quite the same…worst-case scenario was that mum had come back to haunt me."

"Oh, I…sorry…" she apologized again. Sirius closed it and set it back on the table.

"Smashed mine a long time ago," he pondered and pointed towards the hall. "Threw it down the stairs out there."

"Why?" she asked.

"Our family doesn't have the best history," Sirius explained gesturing towards the tapestry above the mantle, which Anastasia now saw was some sort of family tree. "Those music boxes play that blasted song…not surprised Narcissa was ready to pass it off."

"Oh…" Anastasia drifted. She had never considered why she received such a prized family relic, although she understood Narcissa's past was fraught with family tragedy.

"Run with me now, through fields of buttercups

Over the moors, and under the willow tree

Together we'll play by shores of sweet silver waves

Your hand in mine, I will never leave thee."

Sirius quoted the lyrics, but they sounded distant, even to himself.

"But I did leave. As soon as I was able. James's family took me in, and I spent the last of my summers there. I can't help thinking if we only caught Peter that night…Harry wouldn't be facing expulsion now…he'd have been safe here this whole summer." Sirius's thoughts drifted off.

"I'm sorry Harry doesn't get to spend as much time with you as you planned. I've only just realized how important that is," she admitted.

"You really care for them, don't you?" Sirius asked. "Narcissa and the Malfoy spawn."

"Yes," she said, ignoring the insult. "But I know it's dangerous, and I'd like to detach myself from the situation as soon as possible, so that we can all be safe."

"What do you mean by that?" Sirius asked cautiously. Anastasia didn't intend to hint at her plans to have the lifeline removed.

"Not sure," she dodged.

"No one is safe," Sirius qualified, "especially now. We are all in danger at all hours of the day, in every waking and sleeping moment…no matter our magical circumstances."

Anastasia looked up at him. The distance in his eyes had returned.

"Narcissa said the same thing," she confirmed. Sirius shook himself from his dreaming.

"My cousin's not a fool. We went through the same shit. She chose what seemed the safer path but ended up in a much more dangerous position." Sirius looked away, obviously disgusted with his family's decisions.

"I don't want anything to happen to her," Anastasia said. "I can't lose her. Not after all she's done for me."

"There's nothing you can do," Sirius said critically. "Cissa dug her own grave the moment she married Malfoy. And she knows it."

There was a silence between them as Anastasia decided she had nothing more to say. He was right. Narcissa had doomed herself…and Draco…long ago, but that didn't make Anastasia care any less.

Having sensed his defeat, Sirius sighed, reached across, wound the music box, and set it down closed.

"Now, you ought to get some sleep," he said with a warning gaze, "I hear Molly's planned to put you lot to work tomorrow."

The last member of the Black family crossed to the entryway, waved his wand to turn out the lights, and looked back over his shoulder with a kind smile.

"Though do me a favor, and keep this door shut. I'd rather not go mad again."