The Three Sisters

'Have you seen this Wormtail?' asked James with a snort, and tossed Severus' copy of Advanced Potion-Making into Peter's lap.

'This Book is the Property of the Half-blood Prince,' Peter read out loud. 'Ha! What a ridiculous thing to write, calling himself a prince.'

Remus took a good look at the book. 'You think Snape actually wrote that? He doesn't strike me as the type to admit to being a half-blood.'

'It's definitely his handwriting,' said James, still laughing. 'Oh come on Padfoot. What's got your knickers in a twist?'

Sirius, who had been in a good mood until then, was suddenly sulking on the couch. 'The P is capitalised,' he growled.

'So?' said James, who snatched the book back from Peter. 'What does that have to do with anything?'

It was Remus' turn to laugh. 'Oh I know what's going on here. Remember we met Lily and Snape's parents a while back with Dumbledore to talk about what happened? We know Snape's father is a Muggle – but his mum's a Witch. She may hold the Snape name now, but –'

'—she was a Prince before,' said Sirius dully. 'Her mother was a Black who married a Prince – I know so because she's been burnt off the family tapestry.'

'Oh for the love of Merlin,' said James as he patted Sirius on the back. 'You two are related through blood. You have my sincere condolences.'

'Thanks,' Sirius muttered back. 'I had repressed it so much I had nearly forgotten about it.'

'His father was weird,' said Peter suddenly. 'Like he really hated that were were there.'

'Yeah I didn't like him very much either,' said Remus. 'Makes you wonder, doesn't it?'

'Wonder what?' said James sincerely.

'Well,' said Remus, and he looked around to make sure no-one was listening to their conversation. 'Remember when the three of you lured him to me during that full moon? We all know what happened there.'

'We promised Dumbledore never to speak of it again,' said James while lowering his voice, and tossed the copy of Advanced Potion-Making aside. 'He promised never to reveal your secret or that we are Animagi, and in return we promised never to reveal his.'

'And I've always intended to keep that promise,' said Remus, who brought his voice down to a whisper. 'Do you think Lily knew, though? You don't just become an Obscurial by having a few set-backs in life. Something terrible happened to him – and I think his father might have had something to do with it.'

'Explains why he would rather use the name Prince,' said Sirius as he gestured towards the book. 'Look, I despise Snivellus as much as the rest of you do – but that thing, it scared me. That's not something that I would wish upon my worst enemies.'

'We'll never know what Lily knew about him,' said Peter. 'But even if she did – you know what she was like. She's wouldn't have feared it.'

'She knew mine,' said Remus. 'Found out because she was smart enough to figure it out by herself. And I know she would've taken that secret to the grave with her. And so for Snape, for him I'll do the same.'

The group of friends shared a silent nod of approval, and spoke no more of it.

…o0o…

'Cissy!' Andromeda hissed. 'Are you positive Bella is okay seeing me here?'

'We're sisters!' Narcissa hissed back. 'That still counts for something! And hurry up little Dora. Better not show that bright-pink hair around here.'

Narcissa hushed her sister along with her daughter into her private study, where Bellatrix was already waiting for them. 'Look what the cat dragged in!' Bellatrix cackled. 'Bringing your little Mudblood spawn with –'

'—Bella, stop it!' Narcissa ordered, and yanked her sister's wand out of her hand. 'I declare my study to be a neutral zone.' With a snap of her fingers she ordered Andromeda to hand in her wand as well, which she reluctantly handed over. Adding her own wand to the collection, she tossed them into a drawer of her desk and shut it. 'No discussion of politics – or magic, permitted!'

With an exaggerated groan Bellatrix slumped down into chair. 'Why did you have to bring her here?' she said as she gestured towards Nymphadora.

'Because she wanted to see her aunties,' said Andromeda, who sat down beside her. Nymphadora smiled a big smile and ran up to Bellatrix with her arms stretched out, but Bellatrix shooed her off like she were an annoying fly.

'Just come sit with me dear,' said Narcissa. She picked up Nymphadora and put her on her lap. 'Your hair's turning red.'

'What's wrong with her?' Bellatrix asked, looking appalled by Nymphadora's physical changes. 'Did you drop her into a cauldron full of Polyjuice?'

'She's a Metamorphmagus,' said Andromeda, and looked like she was ready to slap her sister in the face. 'But let's not focus too much on my daughter here, shall we? Cissy, why are we here?'

'we need to talk about Bagshot,' said Narcissa.

'Bathilda Bagshot, you mean?' said Andromeda. 'What about her?'

'She's a friend of yours, isn't she?' said Narcissa.

'Well – yes, sort of,' said Andromeda. 'Though I think she's more friendly with my liquor cabinet, to tell you the truth. Just a lonely old neighbour.'

'Bella here recently saw her leaving the Hog's Head inn in Hogsmeade,' Narcissa explained. 'Drunk as a Bowtruckle on Gigglewater.'

'That sounds like Bathilda,' said Andromeda with a shrug. 'Any particular reason you're asking?'

'She's onto something.' It was Bellatrix who spoke. 'Aberforth Dumbledore runs the inn – the big man's little brother. Any chance you could find out what she learnt?'

'And for what purpose?' said Andromeda sourly. 'Albus Dumbledore has disappeared. Vanished. Possibly dead. Out of all people I thought at least the two of you would be glad.'

'She has to know something the rest knows not,' said Narcissa. 'I remember her from when I was little, always sticking her nose into places where it doesn't belong, prodding inside people's minds. For knowledge and truth, she used to say. Spoken like a true historian. Point is, Andy, she wasn't at the inn for a cosy little chat. She's there seeking the truth about what happened to the Headmaster of Hogwarts.'

'I thought there were no discussions of politics permitted in your study,' said Andromeda sharply. 'So what if she found out what happened to the Headmaster? What purpose does it serve you – and especially to the Dark Lord that I know you serve.'

Narcissa sat still for a moment, brushing her fingers through Nymphadora's changing hair, who seemed unbothered by the bickering of her aunts. 'Because,' she said eventually, 'this is not about the Dark Lord. This is about that missing boy, Severus Snape. Our cousin.'

'I haven't seen Eileen since the day she met that awful Muggle,' said Andromeda. 'I know that Severus is their son, and I know of his disappearance along with that friend of his, as the Daily Prophet wouldn't shut up about it for weeks. But what does that have to do with the Headmaster?'

'Everything,' said Narcissa. She glanced at the drawer where she had stashed their wands. The letters she had exchanged with Eileen were in it, hidden in a secret compartment. Neither one of her sisters knew about it, nor could she reveal anything to them. Andromeda, perhaps, but from Bellatrix she would never hear the end of it that she was back in contact with a traitor to the family. It was better for them both to be kept in the dark. 'Lucius was very fond of Severus when we were still attending Hogwarts, and I intend to find out what happened to him. So this is my question for you, dear sister. Please talk with Bagshot. Use up all your Firewhisky if you must. It all starts with her.'

'I don't know why this boy means so much to you,' said Andromeda, 'but I'll see what I can do.'

Of course she wouldn't understand, Narcissa thought to herself. Andromeda had already chosen a different life for herself when she married that Muggle-born wizard, and got burnt off the tapestry for it. A wrong marriage. A wrong sorting. A wrong birth. It didn't take much for the House of Black to cast out its own family for the sake of keeping the bloodlines pure. Something she knew her eldest sister abided by, and her other sister had succumbed to. One that she was caught in the very middle of. Something that Eileen had always been caught in the middle of, for simply being a Prince.

'Cauldron,' said Nymphadora suddenly as she pointed at a dusty old cauldron in the corner of the room. 'Mum, can we?'

'She likes brewing potions,' said Andromeda. 'Do you mind, Cissy?'

'No, not at all,' said Narcissa as she handed Nymphadora back to her mother. 'In fact, Bella, you've given me a good idea.'

'What did I do?' said Bellatrix with a raised eyebrow.

An idea had occurred to her. She was still going to meet with Eileen in Hogsmaede in secret after Hogwarts would close its doors for the winter break. No longer a student at Hogwarts, the doors were bound to be closed for her too, unless – 'I have all the ingredients for it in stock and prepared, so we should brew some Polyjuice,' she said. 'Remember last time we did that?'

Both sisters cackled in delight. 'Still wishing to be me, sister?' said Bellatrix. 'Or would you like me to be your pretty husband instead?'

…o0o…

Dearest sister,

No. No that wasn't good enough. Petunia tore the page from the binder and flung it in the bin.

To my best friend,

No, that didn't sound right either, and again she tossed the paper away. Writing to her sister had become the only way to cope with the loss. The daily delivery of The Daily Prophet was of no comfort to her. Her father had been running around in aimless circles around the city, while her mother kept herself busy at the stables. Looking after Foxy, and now also all the other horses, just to keep her heart and mind from shattering into pieces. Even Eileen, whom she had spoken to from time to time after their meeting in the woods, had disappeared to practise spells with her new wand. There was no-one left to talk to, and so she turned to imaginary conversations with her sister. Her binder was full of them.

The more she thought about the day that she would take the train to Hogsmaede, the longer the days leading up to it lasted. She thought about writing to Alice and Mary, hoping, asking, begging if it were possible to come sooner. But with each letter she wrote, they ended up in the bin before they reached the envelope.

She played around with the Galleon Lily had given her. Flipping it around between her fingers, changing between goblin and dragon. The seal of a sister's promise she had broken the day the Snapes had come to visit. The Galleon slipped between her fingers, and it clattered onto her desk with the goblin's face up. Lily had taught her it was the face of Gringott, the founder of the Wizarding Back in Diagon Alley, and how it was all made possible by the investments of Rowena Ravenclaw.

Lily,

I remember the day you came to me when you gave me this Galleon.
You were in tears. It was the day you had confided in me that there is a war approaching. A war against people like you. And I must confess, that for the first time since your letter from Hogwarts had arrived, I was relieved not to be part of your world.
And now my dear sister, I am still torn between feeling relieved, yet I am also angered.
I am angry that you have gone to a place where I cannot follow. That you have disappeared into your world of magic and I am left picking up the pieces in my ordinary life.
I found the white flowers in the garden, and I can only hope that the Petunia and the Arnica it had replaced have somehow fallen into your hands as they have fallen into mine. Know, sister, that I am still with you. Even if all our fighting has caused you to believe that I have left you long ago. I am still with you.
I know that you are still alive, for my soul has not yet ripped in half.

Please come back to me.

Petunia put her fountain pen down, and started sobbing loudly over the words that she had written. She had reached the point where she truly understood what it meant to be alone. That she would rather fill this void that was growing in her heart with their fighting and their anger, than for there to be nothing left to fight about at all.

…o0o…

Aberforth had locked the door and closed the curtains this time. Bathilda Bagshot had left a seething suspicion that anyone who could walk in was out to get him, and as soon as closing time was announced, he would usher any remaining guests straight out the door.

He remembered the day he met Albus all too well. He had been much younger then, and his sister was still a little girl. And Albus had stood there, wise and powerful and old, as though he had never been young. Albus had never revealed to him what he truly was or where he came from, but he told Ariana, and that was good enough for him.

Ariana. Kind and frail, and broken beyond repair when those Muggle boys attacked her and tried to beat the gentle magic out of her. Her magic had turned inwards, her voice lost, traumatised and broken. Their father send to Azkaban to die when he beat up those boys for what they had done. Moving to Godric's Hollow, where their mother died when the Obscurus had come out of her. It was the day Albus had come. It was the day he had announced that there was a way for the Obscurus to be captured. For her to be released from the evil that she had carried with her for so long. For so many times they had tried – and failed, and failed, and failed.

And then she died. Struck by the crossfires of the men that equally loved as they hated each other. Albus had dwindled into nothing for him. The only shred of comfort that he brought as a token of his remorse was the portrait he had made of Ariana. Now she was nothing more than an imprint. A memory of a time long forgotten. All of his secrets captured within her frame.

He looked at Ariana's portrait, who smiled her radiant smile at him like she had always done. 'Remember when you gave him our name?' he said to her. 'It was one of the first things he saw when he came here from his mythical place. The bumblebee on the white flower. The bumblebees were buzzing in our garden in Godric's Hollow, and I remember how much you loved looking at them as they slept on the petals after a busy day. Albus had whispered his true name to you, and in return you named him one of us.'

Ariana closed her eyes in the portrait, remembering the day with fondness. 'I still hold a deep resentment for him in my heart,' said Aberforth. 'But I know that you will not hear of it. You have long forgiven him for his failings, and I know I ought to do the same.'

Ariana pressed her hand against the frame, and Aberforth pressed up his hand against hers. 'If only you could tell me what secret it is that you're still hiding behind that frame, dear sister,' he said. 'But I know that you will not open it, until the day comes that it must be done.'

…o0o…

It had been more than a week since Tobias last took a shower. Or had it been longer than that? Not that it mattered much to him. He no longer felt the need to eat. He hadn't bothered looking at where his wife was running off to, either. She was gone more often than she was home, and he preferred it that way. Then it could be just be him and the diary. Just him and me.

Day and night, he would write down his thoughts into it, and Tom Riddle would answer like a dearest childhood friend. He wrote more about his son. Telling the diary of all the times he had run away. Spending time with the Evanses just to spite him. Being disobedient, and bringing shame to him. How worst of all he had run off to Wiltshire, and what he had discovered there. That his own son would become like the men he had once fought against, and how he had thoughts of disowning him, had there actually been anything left for him to disown.

And the diary in exchange told him of his own childhood. He had shown him his origins in Little Hangleton, and of growing up in an orphanage with nothing to his name. How it had been Dumbledore that had told him of his magical ancestry, and of finding out how he was related to Salazar Slytherin. How people followed him at school, making him into someone worthy to look up to. A natural born leader.

I wish my son could have been more like you, Tobias wrote.

I wish your son had been my friend at school

I could have kept him from going down a darker path

His talents are wasted on him.

He would have made an excellent Potioneer

I could have helped him to become great

I could have given him a new name for himself,

like I had given myself

He will never become anything now. There is nothing left of him.

You have given up on hope

I have given up on everything.

Tobias felt his hands starting to shake. He dropped the fountain pen on the floor as he felt a surge of rage boiling up inside of him. He had given up on everything. That was the truth. And he had given up on his own son most of all. On the wall beside him he saw the blood-stained marks Severus had once left behind. With his fingers he traced the smudges of blood where his son had hit the wall. Over and over and over again, and hadn't stopped until he could barely move his hand and all.

With his own hand balled into a fist, he punched the wall. He felt the anger and frustration pouring out of him with the impact. The coarse stone leaving a red imprint on his knuckles. And then he punched it again, over and over until the skin tore from his knuckles, the first bones started to crack, and his wrist fell numb.

…o0o…

'Your sister was here,' said Voldemort. 'You know she forfeited her right to be here when she married that Mudblood wizard.'

'But she is my sister nonetheless,' said Narcissa bravely. 'I love her, my Lord. Even if I do not love her choices.'

'I value your honesty, Narcissa,' said Voldemort. 'And her child. A Metamorphmagus, isn't she?'

'An exceptionally rare talent,' Narcissa confirmed. 'Though she is young, and doesn't seem to have it under control quite yet.'

'We'll have to be patient,' said Voldemort, 'but the girl may someday be of great use to us.'

'Perhaps,' said Narcissa. 'But my sister will not join your cause. The family would never let her back in.'

'We shall let it trouble us when the time comes,' said Voldemort. 'Now, off you go. I know enough.'

With a stiff bow Narcissa left her own living room, leaving the Dark Lord alone with his own thoughts again. Family was a strange thing to him. Capable of loving one another, and yet equally hate them all the same. Since he never had a family of his own, he had to make due with what was offered at Hogwarts. And he reminisced. Avery. Lestrange. Burke. Nott. Rosier. Carrow. They were the first to start calling him by his new name. Professor Slughorn had brought them together, on the Night of Walpurgis. A thing he had often done before with all of his favourite students – but this particular night was meant for Slytherin students alone.

Most of those boys had been older than he, and yet they all looked up to him, admiring his intelligence – his intellect. So easily persuaded by making them do the things he wanted them to do. Bound they were by heir blood status, and bound to him in their admiration of being the last living relative of the House of Slytherin. His new chosen family.

They named themselves the Knights of Walpurgis that night. It had been one of Slughorn's jokes, but to them it was no laughing matter. For our sisters who were burnt at the stake! They had cheered in unison, and clunked their glasses in memory of all those who had died at the hands of Muggles.

The Knights had waited for him to graduate from Hogwarts. They were leaderless for a little while, yet their hearts remained fuelled with a desire to purge the world of those who had wronged them. They had found others to join the cause. Yaxley. Selwyn. Rowle. Malfoy. Black. Whole families had risen up out of the dark, joining his, while still baring the scars that were lashed onto their ancestors.

Every word that dripped from his lips was carried by them in a sacred chalice. He made them reclaim the pride they once held for being magical, and that the time for living in hiding, in secrecy, was over. It all started when he murdered the Riddles, and it would end when wizards would finally rule the world. And he would be their leader - the father to all.

A/N Nymphadora Tonks is the daughter of Andromeda Black (sister to Narcissa and Bellatrix) and Edward Tonks (Muggle-born wizard). She was born in either 1972 or 1973, making her 4 or 5 years old at this point.

A/N The flowers Petunia is talking about refers back to chapter 13. The bumblebee on the white flower refers back to chapter 7. Dumbledore is old English for bumblebee.
"Telling the Bees" is an old Western European tradition (mainly recorded in the UK, but also in neighbouring countries) in which bees are told of important events, including deaths, births, marriages and departures. If the bees were not told or 'put into mourning' it was believed that the bees would leave their hive or die.
Though rare, this practise is still done today. When Queen Elizabeth II died the royal beekeeper had informed each hive that their mistress had passed while asking them not to go, for they would receive a new master who would be good to them.

A/N "You see? It was a name I was already using at Hogwarts, to my most intimate friends only, of course. You think I was going to use my filthy Muggle father's name forever? I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother's side? I, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me even before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch? No, Harry. I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world!" - The Chamber of Secrets.

I made an assumption who were the first to start following him, taking the names from the Sacred Twenty-Eight list. (Slughorn is also a name on that list). They had named themselves the Knights of Walpurgis before they became the Death Eaters, but when the name was changed is unknown. Walpurgis Night is celebrated on the night of the 30th of April to the 1st of may. There are many different variants of the celebration throughout Europe, but it boils down to it being the night where witches would dance with the demons, and were burnt at the stake for it. Bonfires as still lit to this day to ward off evil spirits and witchcraft.