Ascension of the Black Bastard.

Chapter 1.

 There was nothing anymore, there never was.

My muggle aunt was kind enough to let me stay with her, I've been here since I was 10.

I could take with me nothing of value but the old portrait of Regulus from the old manor (that I visited not so often with my aunt to get books and search for news of my father) but it was more than enough. 

There was very little that place could give for an underage bastard like me, even if it was the only part of my family's rotten assets I was allowed to get close to.

It was so warm, the violent sun was burning my skin and I wanted to crawl out of it and disappear into the shadows that the trees cast by my side. I could hear his stern voice in my mind saying "compose yourself" as if he was here by my side. An impossible thought as the naked sun could damage his paint and Regulus was indeed my most prized possession since I was 9. Would never happen.

- Ursa, come and help me, those lavender seeds will not plant themselves! - Ursa could hear her aunt screaming from behind her, taking her mind out of her inner monologue about the preciousness of her portrait and her hate for the summer heat. - Of course, I'm sorry. - Ursula said humbly, getting ready to help.

It was indeed a nice afternoon, it's been some time since something truly bad happened and living with her maternal family was easy. Her aunt was half muggle and half nymph, but most of the times she looked more human than anything. Her dark and curly hair was put aside into in a knot and she wore a white oversized shirt, jeans and big green gardening boots. Her pale skin was full of freckles and sweaty, she could even see the signs of past sunburns on it. Even then, she was quite pretty and aged very elegantly.

Ursa knew that once you, as a nymph (or half nymph, for all it's worth) fell in love, it could be a very intense experience, and the devotion normally lasted a lifetime, it seemed like a terrible fate and Ursa feared that her nymph genes would someday cloud her judgment to the same degree, outcasting her even more than she already was from any respectable position.

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- You shouldn't worry about such a thing, she is half nymph, half muggle, and has a very different personality than you. You are half nymph, half witch, and not like every witch, you are a Black. In many pureblood circles you would be considered as pure as Salazar Slytherin, if not even more. Nymphic blood is rare, and pure magic, older than Merlin himself, older than the world as we know. It also ends it's... more complicated aspects in the second generation, your kids would be nothing but magical and stronger than their peers. No, you shouldn't worry about it affecting you. There will of course be complications, but I will be here and try to advise you the best I can. Now, please, keep reading. You must focus on your work, this is a very complex section. - Regulus said in a-matter-of-fact tone, quickly avoiding her obedient glance and looking at the book he seemed to be eternally reading inside his portrait.

Ursa breathed slowly and composed herself, like he taught her, trying to calm her nerves with his words. He always knew what to say in those moments. She kept reading the book Regulus asked her to take from the manor last time.

Ursa was going to turn 14 in some months, and each year her prospects seemed worse. She was loosing time, and soon the opportunities for escaping the pitiful life of being the underdog of the underdogs would end, and she could have a future worst than her aunt, because it would be full of bitterness instead of one she eagerly choose herself, like Edna.

Her heart pained a little, but she brushed off the feeling as fast as she could and kept practicing her magic. Soon she would have to finish her muggle home lessons and sleep, if nothing worked in the magical world it was at least a lifeline to have a muggle diploma.

Her aunt wasn't abusive or cruel, but cared little about her future. She had a set of twins that now were in university in muggle London, and could just show strong affection to them, as they were some sort of continuation of her husband, a man that was nice enough but she knew he though of her as a nuisance and if it wasn't for the money they were offered for compensation and her aunt's insistence for respecting the memory of her dead sister, would probably just have thrown her out to the system or another family, insisting it was for the good of her (muggle) education.

For some it could seem like a bad situation, but for the time being it was perfect. Ursa Black have seen evil and this family wasn't it. Maybe boring and distant, but hardly intentionally cruel.

Ursa was looking at the mirror, her hair fell into soft dark waves and her skin was shining. Beautiful. But not in the way she wanted.

She tried dozens of hairstyles, and Regulus commented on them all. She had to find the perfect ones for each occasion she planned on living.

Nymphs could only conceive when in love, and no love potion worked on them. Even though they were respected in the old pureblood circles, the magical British world had absorbed many caricatures of what they were supposed to be. To have a nymph by your side was a common fetish, that fuelled stories and tales of the worst kind, the fact that she awakened her most primal self when emotional and had difficulty controlling her impulses in the occasion didn't helped at all. She had to appear beautiful, but decent and composed. Anything could be used against her, her kind was very few and anything could be said to demonize the last Black (that wasn't almost in Azkaban). And if everything worked the way she and Regulus hoped, she would be entering society soon, but alone and without protection or a good word from a respectful family and that was dangerous for someone like her. She banished the bad memories and thoughts away and kept working on her appearance in front of the mirror, with Regulus portrait by it's side, looking at her attentively.

-It's your turn to cook Ursa! - Said her aunt entering her room without knocking, and resting her body on the old white wall, looking strangely satisfied for some reason. - I'm happy you are starting to take more care with your appearance, but dear, don't you feel uncomfortable with the portrait there? - Aunt Edna said, now looking strangely at Regulus, that simply stopped moving, as if to remind them he was just a portrait and nothing else.

Ursa suddenly felt uncomfortable with the question, but decided to answer in the most diplomatic way possible to avoid any future conflict. - It may look and talk as a person but it's a portrait. It can't feel anything, it just answers questions... It's like a digital assistant. - Ursa said, adding the last part as an afterthought and smiling back at her aunt. She knew it was how Edna always regarded the portrait, a memento mori of her wizard family and a sort of interactive toy. But sometimes Edna got uncomfortable looking at it, it's voice seemed too... personal, sometimes she could hear them speaking and it felt almost like a real person stuck there, lurking and waiting to get out. Nymphic magic tended to be quite different, more primal and strong and without the machinations of wizard's inventions, she just guessed it was one of the eccentricities of the wizard magical world. To endless pretend, even after death.

-Don't forget to dress behind your room divider. You are almost an adult. - Edna said without much context and left, knowing Ursa would follow behind in some minutes to prepare the food.

Ursa knew it was Edna's way of showing she cared. It was small but still warmed her a little. She looked at Regulus briefly, organizing her hair out of her face, and looking one last time at the portrait's analysing grey eyes before she headed to the kitchen.

Somehow this time her heart ached a little, and she didn't felt like translating the feeling into words, so she left it in the dark.