.
"You and Tonks are related?" Harry asked, surprised.
"Oh yeah, her mother, Andromeda, was my favorite cousin," said Sirius, examining the tapestry carefully. "No, Andromeda's not on here either, look —"
He pointed to another small round burn mark between two names, Bellatrix and Narcissa.
"Andromeda's sisters are still here because they made lovely, respectable pure-blood marriages, but Andromeda married a Muggleborn, Ted Tonks, so —"
Sirius mimed blasting the tapestry with a wand and laughed sourly.
-Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
A/N: Hello there, and welcome to my fanfiction magnum opus! One of the stories I'm most proud of, and one I hope someone out there will enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing it.
This story is my version of Andromeda Black's early years and the development of her relationship with Ted Tonks. It is a slow burn romance - I really can't stress that enough - and charts Andromeda's life through Hogwarts, from beginning to end.
This will have adult themes but it is not smut. The rating may change as the story develops, however, and there will be mentions of violence, sexual themes and coarse language at times.
A copious amount of research has gone into the dates, timelines and family trees involved in this story. Having said that, I have taken occasional liberties where necessary.
Disclaimer: It all belongs to JK. I profit nothing other than the pleasure of writing, reading and creating with the characters she brought to life.
Love seeketh not itself to please,
nor for itself hath any care.
But for another gives its ease,
and builds a Heaven in Hell's despair.
~William Blake
People often ask me what it was like growing up as Andromeda Black, pureblood daughter of one of the richest and most powerful wizarding families in the world; to be the sister of the feared and reviled Death Eater Bellatrix Lestrange, and Narcissa Malfoy, whose son set out to murder Albus Dumbledore. The response I give often surprises them. They expect to be regaled with stories of horror and despair, of a young Bella already showing signs of madness; of a childhood filled with loneliness and extremism. Instead, I tell them the truth.
My sisters and I were closer than siblings growing up. Perhaps it was our close age range (Narcissa was a year and a half younger, and Bella a year and a half older than myself), or our shared gender, or perhaps it was simply our relative isolation from the outside world during our early years, but we grew together tighter and stronger than anyone else I knew. Left to our own devices by parents who had far more important things to do than attend to the raising of three young girls, we came to see each other as more than simply family. We were best friends, allies and confidantes. We were a team that no one else could infiltrate; not our distant parents, not the House Elves who minded us, not even our many cousins and family friends with whom we often shared our days. I knew I could rely on my sisters for anything.
Bella was the leader of our little gang. Wild, bold and with a passion that left your skin tingling just from being near her, she pulled us from one end of the seemingly endless Black gardens to the other, instructing us with loud exclamations on what mine and Narcissa's role would be that day, whether magical princess, dashing warlock, or wicked muggle. With Bella games were never boring, for she always found a way to enliven any story, dragging us along in the wake of her personality. Father frowned at her enthusiasm sometimes, and mother scolded her for her 'unwomanly' behaviour when she would traipse in at the end of the day with mud streaks on her face and twigs caught in the wild curls of her hair. But Bella could never be tamed. She was a fire that would not be put out.
If Bella was fire, then Narcissa was ice. Always the favourite of our parents, she represented the legacy of our mother's Rosier heritage in her perfect features, platinum blonde hair and innocent blue eyes. Narcissa was the golden child, the prodigy to Bella's chaos, and even from a young age we knew she was destined to be the one who fulfilled our parents' dreams for their children. To the pureblood world Narcissa was as flawless and admirable as a china doll; only Bella and I knew the spark of life and fierce loyalty she hid from everyone else. One day when the three of us had wandered a little too far into the depths of the gardens and stumbled across a colony of bowtruckles nesting in an old oak tree, I had felt the strength in my little sister's hands as she pushed me aside for protection. And I knew then that anyone who underestimated her would do so at a price.
And then there was me. I was neither prodigy nor firebrand. Indeed I was unremarkable compared to the dominating personality of my elder sister and the composed perfection of my youngest. Quiet and curious, I had inherited the same thick and wild curls as Bella but without their striking raven colour. Nor did I possess the crystal blue eyes and pearly complexion of Narcissa; rather, mine were a golden hazel set in a face that had always been a shade browner than my mother considered appropriate. As a young child I was painfully shy with a tendency to stutter, and my parents quickly despaired of my being anything other than a mediocrity. Perhaps in response to this, or perhaps simply because I was the middle child and thus the link between them, both Bella and Cissy were fiercely protective of me, defending me against the harsh eyes of the pureblood world and carrying me with them as they grew into their personalities. Bella would seize me fiercely in that passionate way she had, and proclaim that nothing would ever separate us, no matter what; and Narcissa, though she never spoke with the same abandon as Bella, showed me her loyalty when she would crawl into my bed at night, squeeze my hand and sigh in contentment against my shoulder.
Looking back now, our childhood was like a magical dream. The days seemed always filled with sunshine, though there were undoubtedly times when we were trapped indoors, bored and restless and getting on each other's nerves. Yet it was the happy times that remained with me, long after any such memory seemed to make sense at all. For although we did not know it at the time, the Wizarding world was changing rapidly around us, and those changes would soon spin their way into our private little universe, carrying us with them into the future.
If I had to pick a time when the dream of childhood ended, it would be the day Bella left us for Hogwarts. As the eldest and the first of our family to attend school, she wore the occasion like a badge of honour, parading through the house in her new robes and with her wand always in one hand, though she knew little magic and could practise none. Cissy and I watched her with envious eyes, only slightly appeased by the knowledge that our time would come soon enough. Her departure marked the first time we had been separated for longer than a few days, and none of us knew quite what that would mean.
"Of course, we'll write every day," Bella declared as the three of us sat on my bed one night, my sisters having snuck out after the House Elves had put us to bed. It was a common nightly ritual; Bella and Cissy would wait until the house was quiet, then slip out of their respective rooms and come to mine, jumping onto my bed and snuggling into one another to keep warm. "I have an owl now, and of course Mother will let you use Atropos and – " she broke off, breathless, her eyes glistening somewhat in the light from the moon.
"Of course," said Narcissa, snuggling a little deeper into the blankets. "You'll tell us everything, won't you?"
"Everything," agreed Bella fervently.
"And there's still holidays," I said, for the thought of the long weeks ahead without my older sister left me cold and worried. "I'm sure time will fly."
I saw Bella's mane of hair bounce as she nodded, and her fingers reached out to cling to mine in the darkness. Cissy found my other hand, and the three of us remained like that for a long time, holding on to one another as though for dear life. And in a way I suppose we were.
Bella kept her word, and that first year she wrote to us almost daily. Cissy and I lived for her letters, so much so that mother would scold us for hovering and send us outside, forbidding us the use of the family owl Atropos until we had shown we had the patience to wait like ladies. The two of us would wander into the garden then, trying in vain to recapture the magic that had seemed to dwell there with Bella. But our games were never the same. I could not draw out Narcissa's childish side like Bella could, nor could I paint excitement into the space around me through the sheer force of my personality. Inevitably we would wind up on the swing, talking in subdued voices and waiting for the time when mother would call us back into the house.
That first holiday held some of the best times for us. We had been so deprived of Bella's company that when she returned she could do no wrong in our eyes; everything she said was fascinating, and every game she proposed better than the last. Already she seemed far older than us, adopting an air of superior knowledge as she teased us with information about Hogwarts. She had been sorted into Slytherin, of course. It had been expected, and would be expected of both Narcissa and myself as Black heirs. We didn't mind, as from the stories Bella told us it was clear that Slytherin was by far the greatest and most noble House, just as we had always been told.
"Gryffindors are loud and stupid," she explained to us in our first secret night time meeting, which had recommenced as easily as if they had never stopped to begin with. "And Hufflepuffs are weak cowards. Ravenclaws are smart but they don't have the same power that Slytherins do."
We soaked up her words as though she were Salazar himself returned to guide us.
"I hope I'm in Slytherin," I whispered before I could help myself. Then I bit down on my lip, worried I had let too much slip. For to doubt one's membership to the proud House of Slytherin was not something a Black spoke out loud.
But Bella only laughed, reaching out and grasping my forearm in a firm grip. "Don't worry Andy, you'll be in Slytherin. How could you not, when you're my sister. Only one more year, and then we can be together again!"
That year, however, dragged more than any other that I could remember in my short life. Narcissa and I grew closer, but as it had been Bella that I looked up to above all others, the relationship I formed with my younger sister almost seemed artificial, as though it would shatter as soon as things were back to normal. And neither of us forgot that I was soon to leave for Hogwarts as well, leaving Cissy on her own in the Manor. That was something we never spoke of, for another separation seemed far too painful after what we had already endured.
We spent much of our time with the children of other high-ranking pureblood families. It was a given that the old families would stick together in those times, and implicit in that understanding was the fact that us children were all expected to be friends. As far as I could tell my parents never worked, at least not in the traditional sense. My father was away much of the time, visiting his associates or in London on unspecified business which was never explained to us children, and my mother spent most of her time socialising with the wives of other prominent pureblood families. By the time I was ten their names were as familiar to me as my own: Avery, Lestrange, Malfoy, Rosier, Flint, Travers, Yaxley…. the children of these families spent time at our Manor, and we at theirs, until we all knew one another better than we sometimes knew ourselves. It was assumed that when we got to Hogwarts we would stick together just as we had always done. The world was a simpler place back then, and we were only children, for all so many of them became servants of the Dark Lord in later years.
When Bella returned in the holidays she slotted straight back into this world with ease. For her, being a leader was effortless, and through her confidence and pride the rest of us learnt to admire her. She and several others, including Lucius Malfoy, Rodolphus Lestrange and Orion Travers, became the acknowledged leaders of our 'group', not only because they were the oldest and their families the richest, but also because of the natural air of superiority they cultivated over us. Narcissa was aloof and respected for her sense of style and proprietary. I was considered quiet and shy but, as Bella's sister, I was given high regard and an automatic position of authority should I want it. I did not, and was content to dwell in my older sister's shadow.
At long last, two years after Bella had received her Hogwarts letter, my own arrived in the form of a tawny owl soaring through the window where Bella, Cissy and I were indulging in a late breakfast. The owl dropped the scroll on my lap before swooping back out of the window. Before I could reach for it Bella had snatched it and unfurled it, her bright eyes scanning the words quickly.
"You're in!" she squealed, throwing the letter onto the table and seizing me in a bone-crunching embrace. "You're finally coming to Hogwarts!"
I smiled, watching as Narcissa picked the scroll up and read it herself. Only when my younger sister's eyes had flickered with disappointment and she had said in a small voice, "Congratulations Andy" did I finally believe it was real. I let out the breath I had been holding.
"Well, I am eleven, aren't I?" I said in an attempt to sound composed. "What were you expecting?"
Bella snorted, running one hand through my hair as she had a tendency to do whenever she was nervous or excited. Normally when other people touched me it made me uncomfortable, but with Bella it felt natural. "That means mother will bring you with us when we go to Diagon Alley next week. You'll get an owl and a wand and new robes and – " she broke off as she glanced at Narcissa. Our younger sister's normally composed features were tight and her blue eyes gleamed with a hurt she hadn't quite managed to conceal from us.
"It's alright Cissy," I said after Bella looked at me expectantly. It was generally acknowledged that of the two of us, I was the better at cheering Narcissa up. Bella lacked the subtlety and was too impatient to play the comforting older sister role. "You'll be there next year. Then we'll all be together again."
Narcissa nodded, only the wobble of her lower lip betraying how upset she really was. It was an admirable display of self-control, one which would have made our mother proud if she had been there to witness it. I knew how much Narcissa would hate being left alone; I would have too, if I had been the youngest. But there was little I could do to cheer her up, besides promising to write every day just as Bella had.
As selfish as it may have been, I quickly forgot my little sister's loneliness as the holidays unfolded. I was swept up in the excitement of going to Hogwarts, hanging on every word Bella told me about what to expect and fretting desperately that I wouldn't be good enough to belong in Slytherin.
My parents treated the occasion as they treated any other involving us children: as a routine event that nevertheless occasioned an opportunity to invite their friends for dinner and parade us in front of them like prizes in a show. There were several other pureblood children starting at Hogwarts with me, including Leo Avery and Rabastan Lestrange, the sons of my father's closest friends. Helena Flint, a sour-faced girl I did not like, and Annabelle Greengrass, a pretty blonde girl I liked very much, were both starting, as well as my cousin Phylissa Rosier. Together, along with Thorfinn Rowle whose family was not invited to such a prestigious gathering, we were to make up the entire class of Slytherin that year, though we did not know it at the time.
Bella was in her element during dinner, explaining the ways of Hogwarts in far more detail than she had ever divulged to Cissy or me in our private talks. I wondered if it was a show for our parents or for the other children, all of whom regarded Bella with a combination of respect and awe. Or perhaps the act was for Rodolphus Lestrange, a boy Bella's own age who had accompanied his parents and younger brother to the dinner, and who watched my sister with an almost hungry look in his dark eyes. Whoever it was for, I did not particularly mind, as I craved information about Hogwarts more than anything else. My parents showed little interest in the conversation, apart from one or two questions regarding the blood status of the teachers. Whatever they thought of Bella's answers, they did not deign to share their thoughts with us. We were told to behave and to stick together as family and as Slytherins, and that was it. The adults talked in low voices up their end of our extravagant dinner table, and we children occupied ourselves.
After dinner, I was called to visit my father's study, an occurrence that was so rare I could not remember the last time it had happened. Roly our House Elf accompanied me up the private wing my parents shared, and I followed with trembling steps, trying not to show how nervous I was. I knew my father hated any sign of weakness.
My father was seated in a high-backed chair before the fire, a glass of firewhiskey in one hand and his other resting with casual elegance on the upholstery. My eyes were caught by the ring on his fourth finger, a gleaming dark emerald that seemed to catch the light of the flames in a dozen different places. It was a Black family heirloom, I knew.
"Come in, Andromeda," my father said, and I realised I had been lingering in the doorway. Behind me, I heard Roly patter away.
My father's male dinner guests were gathered around him, some sitting and others standing, all of them watching and assessing me. I could feel myself breaking out in a cold sweat from all the scrutiny. I wished Bella was here with me; she was an expert at breaking tension in situations like these, at appearing to have endless confidence that she belonged. I tried not to fidget.
"You are to leave for Hogwarts in a week's time," my father said, framing the statement in such a way that I felt for some reason as though I should show surprise, even though I had known the exact time and date ever since my letter arrived. I nodded, and looked at the floor.
"While you are at Hogwarts, you shall be representing our family, the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black," my father continued in a voice of deep sobriety. His hand shifted, and my eyes were drawn to the emerald ring once more. "With this comes great responsibility."
I swallowed and nodded, not sure whether I should speak. Apparently it was unnecessary, as my father continued without waiting for a reply.
"You are to behave at all times in a manner appropriate of a child of this House. You are to respect your elders and keep yourself from undue scrutiny. You are to perform well academically, as befits a pureblood witch. Do you understand?"
"Yes sir," I managed in what I thought was an admirably calm voice, considering my insides felt as though they had been transfigured to jelly.
My father paused, and the tension in the room seemed to increase before his next words. "Unfortunately, the standards at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry have dropped significantly in the last decade. Admission is now allowed for all manner of… undesirables." He did not elaborate, but from the tone of his voice and previous conversations I had overheard, I knew exactly what he was talking about. Mudbloods. It was a word I had learned very early in life.
"I do not want you associating with any of these characters," my father went on in a hard voice, and from his tone I knew there would be no discussion on this rule. Not that I wanted one. In my mind I would spend my entire time at Hogwarts with Bella, and Narcissa when she came next year. I didn't need any friends besides them. "There are more than enough students in Slytherin for you to engage with. There is little to be gained in forming acquaintances in the other Houses."
"Yes sir."
My father nodded, his eyes drifting away from me as soon as he was satisfied that he had made his point. "Very well. You may go."
I nodded and walked out. As I closed the door behind me, I heard one of father's friends, Mr. Avery I thought, say in a tone of approval, "An obedient child Cygnus. You should be proud." I did not catch my father's reply.
Later that week, I accompanied my mother and Bella on their trip to Diagon Alley. This was the first time I had visited the shopping district, as it was not considered an appropriate place for pureblood children to spend their time. Narcissa did not come with us. I thought, perhaps, that our mother might have been swayed if Cissy had pleaded her case; but it was not in my little sister's nature to disagree with our parents.
I was overwhelmed by the noise and chaos of Diagon Alley. It was like nothing I had experienced before in my sheltered existence. I clung to Bella's hand as we weaved through the crowd, copying my mother's proud, upright posture whilst at the same time trying to see everything around me. It did not take me long to notice that, despite my never having ventured far beyond my parents' Manor or the houses of their friends, my family appeared well known in the wizarding world. I saw the way some wizards gave us a wide berth, while others went out of their way to show their approval, either by smiles or small bows as they passed us. Many of the shop keepers were fawning and obsequious, remarking time and again on what 'pretty little things' Bella and I were until I wanted to replace my polite smile with a scowl. My mother ignored most people, only stopping once or twice to acknowledge those whom she considered worthy of her attention. Now and then I caught her glaring in the direction of a stranger, but when I looked I could see nothing of note that would warrant her displeasure.
Our first port of call was for new robes, a rigmarole I was well accustomed to as I had been to more fittings before my tenth birthday than most witches have by their twentieth. As Blacks we were always to be impeccably dressed, and my mother considered appearance as second only to blood. Once that was over, we went to collect our books. I was much more interested in this than Bella, who leaned against the bookshelf with a bored expression while our mother ordered the shop assistant to collect our supplies. I stared at the hundreds of spines with something like awe, running my fingers across them and almost trembling with awe at all the knowledge around me. The titles seemed like tantalising glimpses into Hogwarts: Transfiguration Made Easy, Helpful Herbology Hints, Charm your Way to the Top, A History of the Dark Arts…
"Leave that, Andromeda," came my mother's sharp voice, and I snatched my hand away as though burned, unaware that I had come so close to drawing the book from its place. Bella snorted and grabbed my hand, tugging me away.
"Come on, let's go get your wand."
A wand was what I had been looking forward to most of all. I had watched Bella enviously as she twirled hers around her fingers during the holidays, wondering how it would feel to possess the ability to work magic like my parents could.
The shop was shabbier than I expected. I had imagined a building as grand and imposing as Gringotts, but Ollivander's was the kind of place you could have walked straight past without noticing. Inside it was crowded and stuffy, almost all the available space taken up with piles and piles of narrow boxes. Mother sat herself on the only available seat, looked regally about, and cleared her throat; a moment later an old man appeared from between the shelves.
"Good afternoon," he said in a soft voice, his protuberent gaze flitting from Mother to me and Bella, who still had hold of my hand. "Mrs Black, how may I be of assistance?"
Mother waved a hand in my direction. "My daughter, Andromeda, is to begin at Hogwarts this year."
Mr Ollivander nodded. "Yes. Yes of course. This way if you please." He gestured to a pile of wands a little way into the shop, and I followed, Bella still clinging to my hand so tightly it was almost painful.
"Hmm. Yes, I remember now. Bellatrix," he said, looking rather suddenly at Bella where she stood beside me, his eyes silvery in the dim light. "Twelve and three quarter inches, walnut, with a dragon heartstring core. Unyielding. A good wand for dueling. Very powerful, oh yes…" he trailed off, and I could not tell whether he believed this to be a good thing or not. Bella had straightened her shoulders and was looking at the elderly wizard as though she had been personally challenged.
"Well," sighed Mr Ollivander, reaching for the top box on the rather haphazard pile. "Needless to say, what's good for one isn't always for the other. No, no indeed." He shook open the box and removed the wand inside, handing it to me with obvious reverence. I took it, feeling a tingle in my fingertips as I did so.
"Cedar and unicorn hair," the wizard said, watching me so closely I began to feel nervous. "Give it a wave, go on."
I glanced at Bellatrix, but she too was staring at me intently, as though hanging on my next movement. I focused on the wall, and gave the wand a wave. Nothing particularly extraordinary happened.
"Elm and dragon heartstring," said Mr Ollivander, whisking the cedar wand away and replacing it with another before I could even blink. "Eleven and a quarter inches. Go on, wave!"
I waved again, and again nothing happened.
"Fir and phoenix feather, nine inches."
This was a pretty wand. I tightened my grip in concentration, determined to have something happen, but I had barely lifted the wand before Mr Ollivander snatched it back out of my hand.
"No, no, let me see now…"
Beside me, Bellatrix shifted restlessly. "Why don't you give her a walnut?" she demanded imperiously. "My wand is a walnut."
Mr Ollivander was peering into different boxes, and appeared to take no notice of what Bella had said. He was muttering to himself, "Flexible… yes, compromising… but good at heart, yes… not at all like… hmm… " he drew in a sharp breath and pulled out a box from near the bottom of a towering stack that somehow managed to stay upright. "Yes, let's try this. Rowan, ten and a quarter inches, unicorn tail core. Nice and supple." He handed it to me with a smile.
The moment I took it I knew it was the one. Warmth shot down my arm, not a tingle but a real jolt, and I felt a rush of energy pass through me. Under Mr Ollivander's encouraging nod I drew the wand in a wide arc, and a stream of golden light poured from it, almost as though it had just been waiting for me to release it.
"Excellent!" beamed Mr Ollivander. "A wonderful , yet flexible. Good-natured. Yes, it will take you far…"
I stood aside as Mother handed over six galleons, staring down at my new wand. It had all happened so fast, I wasn't quite sure what to think. I glanced around at all the thousands of boxes and gnawed my lip, worried that I hadn't had a chance to try them all. But this wand felt nice in my hand; I tested its weight, adjusting my grip a little, and grinned. Yes, I was happy with this wand.
"Mine is longer than yours," announced Bella, drawing out her own and comparing it side by side. It was true - mine was noticeably shorter, the wood lighter and softer looking. I frowned.
"Longer isn't stronger," chanted Mr Ollivander, and I jumped, unaware that he had come so close to us. His silvery eyes bore into me, and I had a sudden urge to push him away. "Remember, the power of the wand is in the witch."
"Hmph," Bella turned away, her nose in the air. With that expression on her face she looked far older than her thirteen years. I snorted, and she glared at me.
"Come along children," said our mother, and without another word we were swept out of the shop.
After that, it was merely a matter of waiting. I filled my days by reading the textbooks I had bought, hoping to give myself some kind of a head-start before school began. My concentration was lacking, however, and I found myself more than once drifting into daydreams, envisaging my first days at Hogwarts and how it would feel to live away from home, surrounded by other students and teachers. Often, I would be interrupted by Bella and Cissy, dragging me off to the garden or else flopping down on my bed and filling the room with a stream of chatter. I never complained. After all, it would be a while until the three of us were together again.
Finally, the day of our train ride dawned. I woke early, unable to sleep, and slipped quietly into Bella's room. She was awake too, as I had known she would be, sitting straight-backed in bed and brushing her long mane of hair. She wore a frown, but when she saw me her lips softened.
"Andy, what is it?"
"Nothing," I shrugged, settling on the end of her mattress. "I'm just nervous, I guess."
Bella rolled her eyes. "Don't be," she said, in the same kind of bossy voice she used to order around the younger children. "You're a Black, Andy. You belong at Hogwarts."
I fidgeted with the bedspread, not looking at her. A moment later and I heard the springs creak as Bella reached forward to clasp my arm.
"Don't you understand, Andy?" she whispered fervently. "We're special. We deserve our magic."
I wanted to tell her that I didn't feel particularly special, but I didn't think she was in the right mood for an argument, so all I said was "I guess so."
She released me and sat back, the frown returned to her face. "There's lots of trash at Hogwarts," she said. I remembered our father's words, 'Admission is now allowed for all manner of… undesirables.'
"In Slytherin too?" I asked.
Bella shook her head fiercely. "No, not in Slytherin. Only the best get put in Slytherin. And we are the best, Andy."
I smiled, and slipped back off the bed. "I'd better go and finish packing," I said, and Bella nodded, resuming brushing her hair in long, sweeping strokes.
Father was away in London and thus unavailable to wish me goodbye. After a tearful farewell with Cissy, we had House Elves magic our luggage to the station, and then return to take Bella and me by side-apparition. My parents would never have deigned to use an entrance as common as Platform 9 ¾. It wasn't until much later that I learned there was even another way to reach the Hogwarts' Express than by Apparition.
As soon as we reached the station our mother was beset by other pureblood wives, Mrs Lestrange and Mrs Yaxley, who had evidently been waiting for her to arrive. They began to gossip about the students, pointing out the obvious Mudbloods as they passed, while I stood awkwardly by their side.
"Come on then," said Bella, directing a house elf as it hovered our luggage into a compartment. "Let's go find a place to sit."
I nodded and turned to Mother, suddenly hyperventilating at the thought of leaving. I had never been particularly close with my mother; after all, my sisters gave me all the emotional love I needed, while our house elves tended to my daily needs. My parents were distant, glamorous figures, and I feared them more than loved them. Still, that didn't mean I wasn't afraid to be leaving their side.
Sensing my need for attention, Mother cut off her conversation and surveyed me with a look that was neither warm nor cold. It was appraising, and critical, and perhaps a little bit proud. "Be sure to uphold the family name, Andromeda," she told me sternly. "Listen to your sister, obey your teachers, and do not talk to mudbloods."
"Yes Ma'am."
"Very well. Go on, now."
I nodded, and followed Bella onto the train, trying not to panic. Everything would be fine – everything would be – someone crashed into me from behind, knocking me against the wall and causing the world to spin in momentary chaos.
"Watch out!" called a boy as he went running past, not even looking at me. I staggered, pressing myself against the side of the corridor, wondering if it was possible to become invisible if I closed my eyes for long enough.
"Are you alright?" came a voice to my left, and I twisted my head to see another boy staring at me in concern. He had scruffy blonde hair and was a little chubby, but his hazel eyes were kind. "Here, let me help you."
I had barely opened my mouth to reply when my sister's loud voice rang through the corridor. "Andy!" Bella strode up to me, her face creased in irritation. She gripped my arm and pulled me away without even looking at the boy, her nails digging into my skin. "Come on, keep up. The train's about to leave."
She dragged us into a compartment where a number of people I recognised were already sitting. There was Leo Avery, Rodolphus and his brother Rabastan, Orion Travers, Helena Flint and her brother Hadrian, and Andreas Yaxley. I nodded shyly at them and scooted closer to Bella.
"Train's full of mudbloods, of course," sneered Bella, cutting through the tangle of legs and seating herself in between Rodolphus and Rabastan. She glared pointedly at Rabastan until he slid over enough for me to sit beside her. "Can't walk anywhere without tripping over one of them."
"It's disgusting," agreed Andreas. He had a way of drawling his words so that he sounded permanently bored. Accompanied with his strawberry blonde hair and pretty features, I had always thought the effect was rather funny. But the expression on his face now was not one of amusement.
"Don't know why our parents don't do something about it," said Orion, a tall, thin boy of thirteen who could pass for almost double his age.
"They will," said Bella in a tone of supreme confidence. She slung her arm around me and pulled me tight against her. "It's only a matter of time before it's all back the way it should be."
I had expected the train ride to be full of excitement. In reality, it was rather boring. The boys played wizarding chess and discussed quidditch, while Helena sat and stared out of the window. I tried to engage her in conversation but she seemed to have so little to say that eventually I gave up. Bella wandered in and out, talking to people in the corridors as they passed or dragging them in to the compartment to chat. Mostly they were other purebloods whom I recognised from our childhood, but occasionally they were people I did not know. She seemed to know everyone and already commanded their respect; I was in awe of her people skills. Unlike her, I felt somewhat like a fraud, as though I didn't belong and was only there because of Bella. To hide this, I pulled out a textbook and began to read. Though I was too nervous to pay much attention to the words, at least it was a way to pass the time until we arrived at Hogsmeade.
Bella had explained the procedure of arriving to me before, but it still felt somewhat surreal as I filed off the train with the rest of the students. Bella held my hand until we were standing on the platform, then she turned to me with a fierce look.
"You have to go with the first years now," she said, gesturing to where a group of students my own age were huddled off to the side. "For the Sorting. I won't see you until after then."
I must have looked terrified, for Bella drew me into a sudden hug. It was over far too quickly for my liking.
"Go –go," she said, all but pushing me in the direction of the other first years. "I'll see you after you've been sorted into Slytherin." She shot me a wicked grin, then span on her heel and vanished into the darkness.
There were a number of familiar faces in the crowd of first years. I sidled close to Annabelle Greengrass, who greeted me with a smile.
"Hello Andy," she said. "Are you excited?"
"Andy spent the whole train ride with her head in a book," said Rabastan, who was standing next to Annabelle. "She looked like she was going to be sick!"
"Shut up," I scowled at him, annoyed that he had noticed my nerves. I edged away from him, my eyes scanning the crowd. Some way in front of me, I saw the yellow haired boy from earlier. He was standing with a couple of other boys, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet as he peered about him into the gloom.
"All right, firs' years this way," came a booming voice, and a lamp seemed to emerge out of the darkness. "C'mon then, follow me."
The press of first years moved forwards, a sort of line forming as we followed the bobbing lantern away from the platform. Before too long we had our first glimpse of the castle, and I thought how similar it was to Bella's descriptions, and yet at the same time how utterly different. She had used words like grand, haunting, ancient… but in reality it was so much more.
The bobbing lantern led us to the edge of a great black lake, on the banks of which a number of little boats rested. It was into these that we were presumably to climb. I began to panic; Bella had never mentioned anything about boats.
"No more'n four to a boat!" ordered the booming voice. I huddled closer to Annabelle, and soon found myself in a boat with her, Rabastan, and Leo Avery. I saw the yellow-haired boy hop into the boat next to ours, followed by three others. He seemed to be finding the whole situation very funny. Personally, I could see nothing amusing about it, especially when the boats began to move.
It was over quickly enough, and we found ourselves at a kind of underground harbour, all but underneath the castle itself. I was shivering, despite my cloak. The person carrying the lamp, who I saw now was almost as large as a bear, gestured us forward up a little path.
"I hear he's a savage," Rabastan whispered in my ear as we walked, pointing to the huge man bearing the lantern before us. "They say he sleeps with acromantula and only eats raw flesh for supper."
"Shut up," hissed Annabelle, giving Rabastan a light shove. He smirked and hurried to catch up with Leo Avery. "Don't listen to him Andy."
Soon enough we had reached the castle, and the bear-man was ushering us through the door and into a vast room. It was so large that the ceiling was all but out of sight. On the other side of the room was a wide marble staircase leading to the upper floors. At the foot of these was a black-haired witch dressed in emerald-green robes.
"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said the bear-man.
"Thank you Hagrid. If you will all follow me please."
As we walked on, I turned to look at the man called Hagrid. In the bright light of the entrance hall he did not seem particularly savage.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall after she had led us into a small room that appeared purpose built for waiting. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts."
I felt someone shift closer to me. Turning my head, I saw my cousin Phylissa Rosier; she gave me a timid smile.
"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. Please form a line and follow me."
Even though Bella had explained the process of Sorting to me, I still found myself glancing nervously around, as though at any moment a surprise might spring out of the walls. I found myself wedged in between Annabelle and Phylissa, so close I could feel their body heat. I barely saw where I was going, only dimly aware that we had followed the Professor back out into the entrance hall and through another set of double oak doors that I had not even noticed the first time, into a room more splendid than any I had ever seen. Behind me I heard Annabelle gasp, and I couldn't blame her. The ceiling was a mirror of the sky outside, inky black and sparkling with stars; throughout the room, thousands of candles floated mid-air, illuminating the four long tables at which the rest of the Hogwarts' students sat. My eyes immediately found Bella, sitting proud and straight-backed at the Slytherin table. She gave me an indulgent smile.
Professor McGonagall had placed a small stool in front of our line. On top of the stool she put a wizard's hat, a hat so frayed and dirty I doubted my mother would have let it within a mile of our house, let alone allow it to touch her daughter's head. A moment later, a slit appeared above the hat's brim, and it began to sing.
Welcome, sons and daughters
to this seat of ancient power.
I hope you find your home here,
whether dungeon, floor or tower.
My gaze drifted to the teacher's table. At the centre I could see a wizard with a long, silvery beard and bright blue eyes hidden behind half-moon spectacles. As I watched, he seemed to glance in my direction, and his stare was so intense I had to look away.
So do not fear your difference,
but embrace this newfound home.
Let Hogwarts be your family,
and your House act as your stone.
The song ended, and there was a restless shuffling around the hall as the students prepared for the Sorting. I glanced at Bella, but she was staring at the Sorting Hat, her eyes blazing as though trying to pass a message to it with her mind. I wondered if she was trying to order it to put me in Slytherin, and the thought made me smile.
A long roll of parchment had materialised into Professor McGonagall's hands. She scanned it for a moment before calling out the first name.
"Avery, Leonardo!"
Leo smirked, swaggering forward with all the poise of someone who knew exactly where he belonged. Indeed, the hat had barely touched his head before it screamed "SLYTHERIN!"
The Slytherin table erupted in raucous applause. I could see Bella, laughing as she welcomed Leo to the table. A sudden flurry of nerves erupted in my stomach.
"Black, Andromeda!"
Curse my early surname. I stumbled forward, feeling utterly unprepared. I wished I could have had the chance to watch a few more before it was my turn. My legs barely carried me to the stool and I sank onto it, feeling as though there was something rather large obstructing my airway. A moment later and my world was obscured in darkness as the hat was placed over my head.
"Well, well," said a small voice in my ear, and I had to fight the urge to jump. "Andromeda Black. A famous name, no doubt."
I waited for it to continue, but a deafening silence filled my skull, so that I could hear the pounding of my heartbeat in my chest. I clenched my hands together in my lap and pleaded silently, please Slytherin, please Slytherin.
"Please Slytherin, eh?" echoed the hat. "Do you have what it takes, though? Not at all like your sister, no, not at all."
I tried to swallow, but the lump in my throat seemed to have increased in size.
"A good mind, no doubt about that. And a hidden courage. Plenty of loyalty, now that's plain to see."
I could feel myself going cold all over. A horrible sinking sensation gripped me, and I clenched my hands together so hard my nails dug into my skin. The hat was going to put me into Hufflepuff. I was going to disgrace the family… my parents would never speak to me again… Bella would –
"But it's clear where you want to go, isn't it. A pity, really. You could be something else, you know? Something greater."
I only want to be in Slytherin. That's all I want.
I could hear the hat sigh. "Well, then, I suppose it'll have to be – SLYTHERIN!"
The hat was lifted off me and I found myself blinking in the light of the great hall. For a moment I barely knew where I was, I had been so caught in the tension of the Sorting hat's words. Then, aware that I had created somewhat of a scene, I stood and hurried off to the Slytherin table, where Bella had already shuffled over to make room for me. My sister was pleased, and wearing a keen smile, but something in her eyes told me she had noticed how long the hat took to sort me. Thankfully there was no time to discuss it, as the rest of the students still remained to be sorted.
I watched the rest of the Sorting in a daze, my mind going over and over what the hat had said to me. I barely even clapped when Helena Flint was sorted into Slytherin, though I did manage a smile when Annabelle joined me at the table. There were few surprises. Both Rabastan and Thorfinn came to Slytherin, as did my cousin Phylissa. The rest of the houses I did not care about. The yellow-haired boy that had spoken to me on the train was close to the end of the line. He was not laughing anymore. In fact, I thought he looked rather ill.
"Tonks, Edward!"
The boy walked forward. I watched him curiously. His was not a name I knew, and I knew almost every pureblood family in the Wizarding world. That meant he was either half-blood or Mudblood. That surprised me; I had always thought there would be some kind of mark, or defect, from which you could spot a person's inferior blood status. But the boy Tonks looked just like any other.
He had only sat on the stool for a moment before the hat called out, "HUFFLEPUFF!"
I felt sorry for him, although he seemed happy enough with the hat's choice. I couldn't imagine what it would feel like to be sorted into Hufflepuff, or any house other than Slytherin. I remembered how long the Sorting hat had taken with me, and cringed in embarrassment. What had it meant when it said, 'you're not at all like your sister…'
"Andy?" I heard Bella's voice, and a second later I felt her poke me in the ribs.
"Sorry," I said, trying to cover my embarrassment with a grin. "I zoned out for a minute."
"You don't say." Bella rolled her eyes. "I asked you how your boat ride across the lake was?"
I shrugged. "It was alright." Rabastan Lestrange had taken the seat directly opposite me. I caught his eye, almost daring him to mention our conversation about Hagrid to my sister. He stared at me for a moment before cocking an eyebrow.
"The Sorting hat took a long time with you," commented Helena Flint from her spot some way up the table. Her voice was vaguely spiteful, and I couldn't help my sharp response.
"So?"
"So, what was it saying to you?"
I opened my mouth to tell Helena to mind her own business. But I could see the eyes of the others on me, including my sister, and I knew they would want an explanation sooner or later. The extent to which I was considered to belong to Slytherin now rested on the answer I gave them.
"It started telling me about all the other Black family members it had sorted," I lied, surprised at how easily the concoction rolled off my tongue. "We have a lot of them, you know."
By my side, Bella snorted with laughter, and the others joined in. I felt the atmosphere relax somewhat, and breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe now, I could finally start to feel as though I belonged. I was in Slytherin, and nothing could take that away from me. Who cared what the stupid hat said anyway?
Those first few months passed in a kind of magical haze. Looking back, I can barely separate one day into another. It was a constant battle of finding classes, getting lost, grappling with the basics of magic we were being taught, making friends, and trying to get a feel for the huge, magnificent, wonderful castle we now called home.
I quickly fell into a routine. The Slytherin common room was located in the dungeon, providing easy access for Potions but a much larger hike for Defence Against the Dark Arts and Charms, both of which were on the third floor. Transfiguration, on the ground floor, and Herbology, out on the castle grounds, were neither here nor there.
I grew to love the Slytherin common room. It reminded me of home, with its dark spaces and gothic architecture. I liked the fact that I could curl up in a corner and go unnoticed by most people passing to and fro. The gloom was peaceful to me, and I often preferred it to the brighter parts of the castle.
My sister I saw less of than I would have liked. Bella was busy with her own studies, and already had more than enough friends. It didn't take long for me to understand the dynamics of Slytherin; just as in my world at home, there was an unspoken hierarchy here that everyone silently upheld. Bella was near the top of that, despite her relatively young age, thanks to her passion and her unrivalled enthusiasm for leadership. Around her swarmed a great number of young purebloods, including most of our acquaintances from childhood. I could never work out whether I was jealous of Bella's ability to have so many friends, or relieved because her dominating personality took the pressure off of me. I was soon considered the 'quiet' Black girl, and left alone for the most part. I did not slip too far in the hierarchy due to being Bella's sister, but I spent most of my time on the fringe.
My closest friend, besides Bella, was Annabelle Greengrass. We sat together in class, and I liked the unspoken understanding we had of one another, the sort of familiarity that can only come from having grown up in each other's worlds. We both knew what was expected of us as young pureblood witches. We knew our parents would be happy with our friendship, and that was enough to make it worthwhile.
Classes were a blur of work that gravitated between outrageously fun and mind-numbingly boring. It did not take long for Potions to become my favourite subject. I liked the quiet solitude of it, the concentration required that meant silence and patience were necessities. It was a refreshing change from the hectic activity of a class like Charms, in which the Professor spent most of her time running up and down trying to stop a dozen localised explosions. Professor Slughorn, the Potions Master, seemed to take to me immediately, and spent a great deal of time complimenting my work. The other teachers were not nearly so flattering. Professor McGonagall, the Transfiguration teacher, was a stern, unyielding woman who demanded a certain standard in her class and was determined to see it met. I felt as though I was constantly under her scrutiny, and that no matter what I did, she was never pleased. After Potions, my favourite subject was Herbology. I'm sure my mother would have been shocked at my choice, and horrified at the eager way I dug my hands into wet earth; but there was something about the bright green of the glasshouses that warmed my soul.
Those were, in hindsight, probably my best days at Hogwarts. Everything seemed filled with innocence and goodness, and any future troubles had not yet penetrated my little world. I was not oblivious, of course. I saw the way some students treated me and my sister and her friends, the open glares and hostile whispers that came our way from many of the Gryffindors. But in those days I did not take much notice of such goings on. I was far too interested in learning all that I could about the magical world.
One of the first things I learnt was that there was not, as I had first thought, a noticeable physical difference between mudbloods, half-bloods and purebloods. I had been so convinced that there would be something different between us that I spent most of my first few months at Hogwarts convinced that Ted Tonks must have been a pureblood, since he looked the same as any pureblood boy and seemed to have no difficulty performing magic. I was finally forced to admit that I was wrong after overhearing him talking to Frank Longbottom about a game called 'football', something which I had never heard of and which sounded undoubtedly Muggle.
I wrestled with this dilemma for quite some time and finally decided to discuss it with Bella.
"Don't you think it's odd," I said one night as we lounged in front of the common room fire enjoying a rare moment of time together without Bella's friends being present, "that there doesn't seem to be a difference between us and mudbloods?"
Bella's head snapped up from the book she was reading. "What do you mean?"
I didn't miss the flash in her eyes, but couldn't see anything wrong in what I was saying. "I just mean, they don't look different, you know? If you didn't know they were mudbloods, if someone didn't tell you, how would you know?"
Bella glared at me as if I had personally insulted her. "Of course you would know," she snapped. "It's obvious."
I bit my lip, worried I had missed something obvious and made myself look silly. "How?"
My sister gave me a scornful look, as though I had asked something so stupid she was considering not replying. "They don't have real magic, Andy," she said at last, rolling her eyes. "Not like you and me."
I wanted to ask her what she meant, but her eyes returned to her book and she did not appear in a mood to discuss it. Instead, I watched Ted Tonks very closely in class over the next days. We shared both Potions and Transfiguration together. In Potions, he did not seem particularly skilled. He chopped ingredients too roughly, and often had his cauldron fire too hot so that his mixture burnt. Professor Slughorn was patient with him, but I thought if Bella was right it was probably a wasted effort. In Transfiguration, however, Ted seemed no different to anyone else. In our first assignment, transforming a matchstick into a needle, he went as far as anyone in the class, ending up with a red-tipped needle. It was more than I had managed; I had, perhaps, been too distracted in watching his efforts, but by the time class finished I had succeeded only in creating a very sharp matchstick. Still, I knew Bella had to be right, as she always was, and so I continued to watch Ted, and the other mudbloods in my classes, waiting for the moment when their defect would reveal itself.
One particular event I had been looking forward to ever since reading it on the Slytherin notice board was the start of flying lessons. I had loved flying since I was a young child and one of my older Rosier cousins had taken me on his broom with him. However, it was not considered appropriate for a young pureblood witch to fly, at least no more than demurely with side-saddle. Quidditch was a man's sport, and despite the natural affinity I had always shown for flying I was never encouraged to pursue it. We were given brooms, of course, as a pureblood tradition and as a way for my parents to showcase their wealth to the other families; but all flying was done under the supervision of House Elves, and to move faster than a crawl was considered improper.
So it was with eager anticipation that I crossed the castle grounds to the Quidditch pitch on the first day of flying lessons. We shared the class with Gryffindors, which was disappointing as it was bound to lead to a fight of some description. It had taken me less than a week to figure out that Gryffindor and Slytherin shared a mutual hate-hate relationship. I had joined in it myself, after seeing the way some of the older Gryffindor students glared and whispered about my sister.
But today, I wasn't going to let a few Gryffindors spoil my fun. I was finally going to be able to fly, away from the scrutiny of our House Elves and the disapproval of my parents. Even if it was a derelict old school broom, it was better than nothing.
"You look excited," remarked Annabelle as we made our way across the lawns to where our brooms and Madam Howler waited for us. "Are you good at flying?"
I shrugged, not wanting to brag until I had seen whether I could in fact fly on these school brooms. I took my place beside the best one I could find, although it still had twigs out of place and its handle was dulled with age. Compared to my Comet 260 at home, it was terribly out-dated.
Still, it responded well enough when I called. "Up!" I demanded, and the broom sped into my hand. I beamed, especially when I saw that only a few other students had managed the same. Annabelle's broom had done a lazy flop on the grass.
"You've got to sound more confident," I told her, and when she tried again, the broom lifted several centimetres off the ground before falling back down again.
On the Gryffindor side, a tall, strong-jawed brunette girl was watching me with keen interest. I ignored her. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rabastan bend down and pick his broom up by himself, and rolled my eyes.
"All ready?" demanded Madam Howler, seeming to ignore the fact that several students did not yet have their brooms in their hands. "Mount please."
I knew the basics of flying already, and mounted swiftly and confidently. Madam Howler paced through the middle of our rows, surveying us with a stern expression. When she came to me I fancied her lips softened slightly.
"Perfect grip," she announced, before continuing on. I felt myself flush in pleasure, and grinned at Annabelle. I could feel eyes boring into me, and saw that the Gryffindor girl was still staring at me. I glared back at her defiantly, and her lips twitched as though hiding back a smile.
"Very well," said Madam Howler,spinning on her heel as she reached the end of the line. Her eyes drifted over the waiting students. "Longbottom, your handle is crooked. That's better. Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Hover a few inches above the ground, then return to your feet. Do you understand?"
Besides me, I heard Annbelle groan softly under her breath. Excitement was making my hands tingle, and I was so keen to get in the air that I felt like I couldn't wait another second. Madam Howler blew her whistle, and I pushed myself off, feeling the wind rush around me and blow my hair away from my neck. I glided a foot or so into the air, resisting the urge to fly higher. Around me, only a few students had achieved the same result. Several, including Annabelle, had not left the ground. Rabastan had wobbled into the air; I could see the white grip he held on his broom and smirked. Leo Avery, by far the better flier, was level with me and looked as at ease as I felt. Helena and Phylissa had not even attempted to fly.
"Well done," Madam Howler's voice drifted up to me. "You may return to the ground now."
I clenched my teeth and tried not to let my frustration show. I wanted to fly properly, to race Leo to the other end of the pitch and back again, to soar high enough that I could see the canopy of the Forbidden Forest stretching out below me. Still, I reminded myself that there would be plenty of time to practise. There was no need to do everything today.
"You really are good," said Annabelle warmly when I had dismounted. I smiled at her.
Someone cleared their throat behind me, and I turned to see the Gryffindor girl standing there. Her face was pleasant enough, but I still eyed her distrustfully. I couldn't remember the last time a Gryffindor had anything nice to say to me.
I waited for her to speak. Her eyes drifted along the line of Slytherins, but only Annabelle was paying any attention to us. After a moment she shrugged and said, "You fly well."
I stared at her. "Thanks."
There was an awkward silence. I thought about asking the girl's name, but decided I didn't really want to know. The girl simply stared at me, before turning and rejoining her Gryffindor friends.
Flying became one of my favourite lessons after that first day. I grew progressively more confident in the air, until even Madam Howler, who was notoriously tight-lipped, remarked that I had all the hallmarks of a good flier. Along with Leo I was the best of the Slytherins, a fact which seemed to annoy Rabastan, who complained that his boom was broken so loudly and consistently that eventually Frank Longbottom told him to go and trade it for a box of tissues, since he seemed to need them more. A fierce fight ensued, in which words like 'blood traitor' and 'bigot' were thrown around and both boys ended up with a week's worth of detentions. After that classes became somewhat less enjoyable, as the tension between the Gryffindors and Slytherins had increased threefold, and there was always a threat of violence breaking out. I tried to ignore it, but it was hard when animosity seemed to be everywhere I looked. The brunette girl, whose name I had learnt was Dorcas Meadowes, did not speak to me again.
The year was passing quickly, and before I knew it Christmas holidays had arrived and Bella and I found ourselves back home at the Manor. It felt strange, after the chaos and energy of Hogwarts, to be back in that large, silent house, filled with empty corridors and locked rooms. Cissy was the same as I remembered, if a little more subdued than normal. She beamed and hugged us both when we arrived home, and listened with apparent interest as I told her all about my classes, and flying, and what it was like to live in the Slytherin common rooms. But I couldn't help but feel that the time apart had put a distance between us that hadn't been there before.
My parents did not ask me about school. Apparently, it was enough that I had not been in any trouble. Their lack of interest did not particularly bother me. I was not quite sure how I would describe my Sorting to them if they asked me, nor my love of flying, or the curious study I had made of some of the mudbloods in my class.
The Black Yuletide dinner was an annual event in my family. It was an occasion for all the notable pureblood families to gather together at my parents' Manor, parading their children and their wives, their wealth and their importance in the Wizarding world. At eleven, I was still not old enough to sit at the main table with the adults. But Bella, at thirteen, was to sit with them for the first time, marking the first time she and I had not spent the entire night together. Instead, Narcissa and I were left to entertain the younger children, including our five year old cousin, Sirius. He was already a favourite of the family, a handsome boy who had clearly inherited his father's classic Black looks. I liked him, and enjoyed watching him try to master the toy broomstick he had been given for his birthday. For pureblood sons, unlike daughters, being adept at Quidditch was almost as important as being sorted into Slytherin. Narcissa, who had never been particularly fond of small children, spent most of the night braiding Phylissa's hair and gossiping about the older women's gowns.
At some time in the evening, when Sirius was curled up asleep on my bed, and both Narcissa and Phylissa were yawning heavily, I announced that I would go downstairs and try to get a House Elf to make us some hot chocolate. In truth I was mostly bored, and hoping for a chance to see Bella and the other older children.
The corridors around my room were empty, as this was the family's private quarters and off limits to all but the closest of my father's friends. To get to the kitchen, I had either to cross the wide marble entrance hall or else go via the back rooms and passageways used only by the House Elves. I chose the latter, knowing how much trouble I would get in if my parents knew I had been sneaking around. I walked quickly through the chilly hallways, not paying particularly close attention to where I was going, and so did not notice the presence of others nearby until it was almost too late to avoid them.
I came to an abrupt halt, my eyes going wide as I recognised the deep rumble of my father's voice. Glancing around, I saw that I was in a little used wing of our Manor; mostly, it served as storage and occasionally housing for our least important guests. I could not think why father would be lingering in this part of the house when the ball should still have been in full swing.
"…has the right idea," I heard him say as I stood hesitantly in the corridor, wondering what to do. The sensible part of my brain told me to turn and slip away as quietly as possible, for there could be no greater embarrassment than getting caught eavesdropping on your elders. But curiosity held me still.
"I agree," said another, silky voice that I recognised as belonging to Abraxas Malfoy. Terror shot through me, temporarily blocking out his next words; for it was one thing to stumble across father on his own, and quite another to be found when he was entertaining guests, especially important guests such as Malfoy. I swallowed.
"What about the Ministry, though?" came a third voice, and my terror abated slightly. That voice belonged to my favourite uncle, Alphard Black. "They won't allow – "
"They're wrong." That was Romulus Lestrange, his tone rough with impatience. "They've been wrong for decades. And the time has finally come to take back what is ours."
"Not yet," said my father. "Riddle says we must wait. It is not time."
I could not imagine what they were talking about. I fidgeted, desperately wanting to flee but unable to tear myself from the spot.
"…worried about what this means for the future," my uncle was saying. "For the children – "
"It means freedom," said Malfoy smoothly, cutting him off. "Surely you can see that, Alphard."
I heard my uncle sigh; heard him say, "I'm going back to the party," followed by the sound of heavy footsteps. My brain screamed at me to hide,but I could not seem to get my legs to obey me. I stood frozen, unable to move, as my uncle rounded the corner and nearly bowled me over in his haste. He stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes flashing with shock and something akin to fear as he registered me standing there. He did not, however, call out to my father as I had expected. Rather, after a second's hesitation, he strode forward, grabbed a hold of my hand and, after gesturing for me to be silent, began dragging me with him up the corridor.
I did not speak, knowing better than to alert the other men to my presence. I followed my uncle, heart hammering in my chest, down one corridor and another until we were back in my own wing. Only then did he release my hand, crouching down to stare into my face. I saw then that he was very angry.
"What in Salazar's name do you think you're doing?" he growled at me, keeping his voice low. I blinked, my eyes stinging with tears. I had never seen my uncle angry before, especially not at me.
"I'm sorry."
At the sight of my miserable expression, his face softened. "Honestly Andromeda, why were you wandering the corridors alone?"
"I wanted a hot chocolate," I said, feeling unbelievably pathetic. A single tear trickled down my cheek, and uncle Alphard reached up to wipe it away with his sleeve. The anger had gone from his face and he looked sad.
"You shouldn't wander," he said, putting a hand on my shoulder. "It's not – well, there are some things you shouldn't hear."
My mind burned with questions, but I knew better than to ask them. It was a minor miracle that I had managed to escape without punishment; I wasn't about to push my luck.
Uncle Alphard kissed my cheek, before pushing me in the direction of my room. "Go on then," he ordered, and his voice was kind but stern. I knew there would be no more wandering that night. "I'll have the Elves bring up some hot chocolate. Goodnight, Andromeda."
I slipped back inside, shutting the door and taking a deep breath to calm my still racing heart. Phylissa and Narcissa were both asleep. I curled up around Sirius on my bed, grateful for the warmth radiating from his small body, and fell asleep with my head full of questions. When I woke up, there was a cup of cold hot chocolate on my bedside table.
The remainder of my year at Hogwarts flew by. I continued to write to Narcissa almost daily, telling her practically everything that happened in an attempt to assuage her unhappiness at being left behind.
In class, work was becoming progressively more complicated, as we moved past basic theory into practical magic. Despite the difficulty, or perhaps because of it, I found that I thrived in the academic environment the teachers provided. I strove to be top of the class in my subjects, and in some, such as Potions and Herbology, I succeeded. Others, such as Transfiguration, were more difficult, and I found myself with some unexpected competition for top spot.
The Mudblood, Ted Tonks, was good at Transfiguration. I had tried to deny this for a long time, but eventually it had become too obvious to ignore. He had managed to come top of the class all year and it infuriated me that he seemed to find it so easy. It went against everything my parents had taught me to be the case. I felt almost as though I had failed them, whenever Professor McGonagall praised him for his work. But it wasn't just me that Ted outclassed; it was practically everyone.
"What's wrong, Andy?" Annabelle's voice cut through my thoughts, and I jerked, unaware that I had been drawing attention to myself.
"Huh? Nothing."
"You look like someone just insulted your family."
I shook my head, although in a way I suppose Tonks' existence in that classroom was insulting my family. "No, I'm just… I don't understand why this silly spell won't work!"
I had been trying to transfigure my mouse into a snuffbox, and so far all I had managed to do was vanish its whiskers and turn it from grey to brown. Across the classroom from me, Ted Tonks had almost perfected the spell; only a short stump of tail remained to reveal its original form.
Annabelle laughed. She was a pleasant-natured girl and wasn't easily upset. "You're so impatient," she said lightly. "You can't expect everything to be so easy, Andy."
I pouted, but was spared from needing to reply by the bell. Disgruntled, I began to pack up my books, leaving the whiskerless mouse where it was on the table. I couldn't help but watch out of the corner of my eye as the Tonks boy also gathered his things, chatting and laughing with his Hufflepuff friends as he did so. He slung his bag over one shoulder and was walking out when I saw Rabastan stick his leg out, deliberately tripping Tonks and causing him to stumble against a desk.
"Watch where you're going, Mudblood," drawled Rabastan, smirking at Thorfinn and Leo.
Before the Hufflepuffs could retaliate Professor McGonagall swooped in on the scene like an angry bat, her eyes blazing as she rounded on Rabastan.
"Mr Lestrange, I will not have language like that used in my classroom!" she snapped, lips pressed into a thin line. "Twenty points from Slytherin! And if I see you behaving in such a way again it shall be detention."
Rabastan scowled, stalking out of the classroom without another word. I followed with Annabelle. Honestly, what was he expecting, tripping someone in front of a teacher like that? Sometimes Rabastan could be so stupid.
In the end, I finished second to Tonks in Transfiguration, and second in Charms to a Ravenclaw boy named Edgar Bones. In Potions and Herbology, I came top, with Professor Slughorn especially commending me on my excellent work. I brought the grades home with me on the Hogwarts Express, flushed with pleasure at my results, but my parents did not seem to share my enthusiasm.
"Edgar Bones comes from a long line of talented wizards," remarked my father after skimming my report that night at dinner. "But I have never heard of this Edward Tonks."
I scuffed my feet, feeling the colour rise to my cheeks despite my attempts to prevent it. My mother glared at my no doubt 'unladylike' behaviour.
"He is a Mudblood."
My father's lip curled in distaste, and he handed the report back to me with a dissatisfied expression.
"Favoured by the teachers, no doubt," remarked my mother coolly. "They always are. Anything to make them seem better than they are."
My father shared a meaningful glance with her. "You see what we are fighting for," he said in a quiet voice, and she nodded once, before the conversation died away.
Bella's best subject had been Defence Against the Dark Arts, despite her declaration that she hated the teacher, Professor Bebbington. Personally I had neither liked nor disliked Defence; we'd spent most of the year studying from books, but I had not found the material boring.
"He's a filthy old man and he smells funny," she told me when I asked her about it. "And he doesn't understand what he's teaching. He doesn't understand dark magic."
In hindsight, perhaps I should have found her words disturbing, but at the time I thought nothing of it. Bella was highly critical of everything, except perhaps Cissy and me.
.