Symphony | Andromeda Black

Bad News

They had been back at Hogwarts for a month. Bellatrix turned seventeen, an occasion that at last warranted a letter and a gift of a beautiful goblin made bracelet that seemed to shine all the colours of the rainbow when the light hit it. Glenda had recovered from her infatuation with Lucius Malfoy, and was now violently crushing on the boy who sat in front of her in Transfiguration. Lacrimosa would have once laughed at her with Andromeda, but she herself was now infatuated with the sixth year who tutored her in Charms.

Andromeda gave up and decided that hormones had taken them over. As for herself, she seemed as behind in development as she always had been. Boys seemed as irritating, awkward and  sweaty as they always had. Thinking of her parents, or Bellatrix, Aurelia and her friends, Andromeda made a promise to herself: she would never fall victim to the stupidity of love.

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It was a dull Wednesday afternoon class in Ancient Runes when the knock on the door came. When the teacher called to enter, Professor Slughorn stepped inside. He looked unusually grave, his round face still and pale.

"May I have Andromeda Black, please?"

"Certainly," Professor Jenkins gave her a quick nod, and Andromeda, puzzled, stood from her seat, making to follow her house master.

"Take your bag," he said, and she slung it over her shoulder, following him from the classroom. What could he want her for? Surely she wasn't in any kind of trouble.....

Andromeda was chewing her lip when they climbed the stairs to the Entrance Hall, and she saw Narcissa and Bellatrix waiting. Bellatrix looked bored, checking her pocket-watch, Narcissa small and fearful beside her. Uneasiness twisted in Andromeda's stomach, especially as they followed their House master up the stairs to the headmaster's study, and he gave their shoulders a quick squeeze.

Andromeda had never been in Professor Dumbledore's study before, but afterwards she would remember every detail. She would remember the distant grey of the lake from the large window, the soft whispers of the portraits, the whir of some strange instruments, the steady blue of Professor Dumbledore's eyes behind his round spectacles, the way he looked at them as they sat, as though with pity. She couldn't stand it.

"What is it?" She managed, in a trembling voice, and only just remembered to add, because manners and respect had quite literally been beaten into her as a child, "Sir."

What she wouldn't remember were his exact words, because they were like a distant buzz in her ears, a blank spot in her memory. But what he told them was this: Cygnus Black had been found dead in his study at noon. It was suspected that he had had a heart attack, and they would be going home almost immediately.

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Andromeda went back to the dormitory to get her things. It was silent and empty, and she filled her trunk mechanically, numbly, tossing in her nightgown and her hairbrush, her sponge bag and toothbrush. She was normally extremely neat, but her things were all in a jumble, and she didn't care, just shut her trunk with a snap of the lock and it floated after her. Max followed her, meowing gently. He nuzzled against her legs, but for once she didn't bend to stroke his fur. She made her way towards the Great Hall with an absent minded purpose, and there she sat with her sisters, waiting for the house elf while Professor Slughorn tried half heartedly to keep up conversation. Narcissa was sniffling into a handkerchief, her cat in her lap. Bellatrix was as white as chalk, her eyes big and glittering. She kept opening her pocket-watch and then shutting it again, its sharp snap! the only sound as Slughorn's voice petered out.

"It's not true," Bellatrix murmured. "It's not, it's not –"

Slughorn looked helpless. "My dear girl, I –"

"It's not," she snapped. "It's a lie, it's all a lie, it's not true."

Slughorn opened his mouth, then shut it again, and they sat in silence accompanied by the snap of the pocket-watch.

After a while, the house elf appeared, and they rose. Slughorn offered his condolences for what seemed the hundredth time before departing. Andromeda watched him go. He was probably relieved.

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When they arrived at the house, it was silent. The heavy clock in the parlour was ticking, and Druella was sitting in the drawing room with her mother, father and sisters Persephone and Millicent. Andromeda hadn't seen her aunt Persephone in a long time, as she had become practically a recluse after Aurelia's death. She was pale and gaunt, her skin like grey parchment. Nobody was talking. There was tea in front of them, but nobody was drinking it, and there was a plate overflowing with sandwiches cut into neat triangles. Druella was sitting among her family, smoking a cigarette, already wearing the black silk robes of a new widow.

"Mother," Bellatrix said immediately. "It's not true, is it?"

Druella looked at her through heavy smoke, her face unreadable. "Don't be stupid, Bellatrix," she said slowly. "Of course it's true."

Bellatrix shook her head, her sharp fingernails digging under the pocket-watch's clasp, but she didn't say anything else.

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The days following went quickly, and people started arriving. First came Walburga and Orion and their children, only close relations. The house elves filled the table with food and drink, but nobody touched it.  Andromeda sat beside Sirius, and ate and ate, barely tasting the food. It was only as she reached for another sandwich, a salad one, that she realized it was her fourth. For once, Druella didn't hiss that she was eating too much. She sat by herself, still in her new black robes, while her grandmother was the one who dictated, showing people where to go to see him. Bellatrix stood up to go in, and their grandmother looked towards Andromeda and Narcissa.

"Come," she said, so they came, ferried through the people. Cygnus hadn't been laid out properly yet, so he still wore his ordinary robes and polished shoes.

His face was oddly red and flabby, and somebody had closed his eyes, which betrayed the lines of his face. His top set of teeth seemed loose, and it was only as Andromeda peered closer that she realized they were false. She'd never known that her father wore false teeth. They gave his mouth a horrible cartoonish look. She had never realized how old he looked, nor how he carefully combed his hair so the worst of the grey was covered. He no longer looked like her father, like the man who had taken her in lessons, the man who had caned her and terrified her, the man she had idolized even so. She heard Narcissa choke on a sob and wondered why she wasn't crying. The tears wouldn't come. Bellatrix stared, holding her pocket-watch so tightly that it made grooves in her skin.

"Why don't you give him a kiss?" An aunt suggested, and they stared at her blankly. Andromeda didn't think any of them had ever given their father a kiss in their lives, but she did as she was told, pressing her lips to his forehead, which was ice cold.

Narcissa went next, tears sliding down her cheeks, and Bellatrix finally moved, turning around on her heel and storming out of the room.