Symphony | Andromeda Black

Christmas Dinner And St Mungo's

What had happened on the journey to Hogwarts weighed in Andromeda's chest like a heavy stone, not least because she knew her family would hear about it. They had long since disapproved of her friendship with Glenda, but now that her family was expressively known as blood traitors. Guilt and nausea swirled in her stomach whenever she thought about it, but she knew the time was coming - soon, and perhaps not as far away as she might want to believe, she would have to pull away from Glenda. As the Christmas holidays quickly approached, she pushed the thought away, but it stayed there, lurking at the back of her mind like a shadow.

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When school broke up for Christmas, there was a surprise in store for Narcissa and Andromeda. They would not be going to their own home, as their mother was not there. Instead, their grandmother took them to to their grandparent's home and explained that Druella was in hospital.

"Hospital?" Narcissa's face was tight with anxiety. "Is she ill? What happened?"

"Nothing to concern you," their grandmother was brisk as always. "She'll be there over Christmas, just to make sure she gets well properly."

Andromeda remembered the help her grandfather had spoken of. "When will she be home?"

"I couldn't say."

"Can't we visit her?" Narcissa asked.

"Certainly not. They don't let visitors into that ward. Now, run off and be quiet. Good girls are seen and not heard."

Andromeda knew she should be worried for her mother, but the feeling in her chest wasn't concern. It was more of a sickening mix of relief and guilt. She lay awake in the guest bedroom of her grandparent's house and wondered if Druella would be coming home at all. She knew what her grandmother meant by "hospital." She meant the ward in St Mungo's where they did things to your brain and pale, frail people shuffled around in papery gowns, muttering to themselves and pulling out their hair. She meant the ward that was only whispered about at school, where the curtains on the windows and doors were always kept shut. She meant the ward for mad people.

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Dear Glenda,

Merry Christmas (though it's still just the 23rd)

I hope you like your gift. Narcissa and I are staying with family these hols, as Mother is in hospital –

Andromeda stopped short, staring down at the black ink, not sure what else to write. Eventually, she continued writing, trying to sound airy and casual and fun, but it still seemed depressing when she had finished it.

She received a reply the very next day, and as she read it, her eyes went as round as saucers. Glenda's mother had invited them to Christmas dinner at her house, as long as their relatives didn't mind, and Lacrimosa was already coming. Andromeda chewed her lip as she read the invitation. A part of her - perhaps most of her - wanted more than anything to reply and say yes, to be able to go and have a pleasant Christmas for once. But then she thought of the boys on the train, the slurs they had hurled at her friend. She thought of her grandparents and her mother, Bellatrix and the Dark Lord, and she put her quill to parchment.

I'm sorry, Glenda, I would love to come but my grandparents say I can't. Perhaps next year. I hope you have a good day tomorrow.