Black Magic

Black Magic

My Dearest Nymphadora,

I'm certain there will come a day when you'll wish to know why I don't speak of my family. Your family. And so here I am, writing everything down, so that perhaps one day you'll understand. What I have to tell you isn't precisely easy, and there's no right way to tell it. So I'll begin where I can.

My favourite things about magic, as you, too, will one day come to know, are the colours. I love to watch the swirls of crimson, sage, sapphire, and gold as they fly past and create something that would otherwise be impossible to have. Some in small bursts of light, others in long ropes that bind two hearts together. Each spell is different, just as every witch or wizard who casts it is different.

I was always the talented one in the family.

Natural talent, my mother used to say, doesn't come to every witch. Some struggle for years to earn the gift that's given to them at birth. Others, the undeserving, squander their magic on cheap tricks. She told me I was special, that because of my blood I had a gift that hadn't been seen in generations. To be a Black, she said, was to be the best. I never forgot that, and I hope neither will you.

I was always so proud of being better at magic than my elder sister Bellatrix, that I would brag to anyone who'd listen, until Bella got that black scowl on her face and threatened to hex me if I didn't keep quiet. I was never afraid, though. Bella knew the words for a lot of hexes, curses, and jinxes, but I knew how to make them fly.

Dark in both temper and colouring, Bellatrix is every inch the Black, in ways I can't possibly equal. Sharp crimson sparks follow her every move, a warning to any uneducated fool that she is not to be tampered with. Never underestimate Bellatrix Black. Even I couldn't escape that golden rule, though I tried. Powerful though Bella has become over the years, I can still best her, and I refuse to submit to anyone whose power is inferior to mine-even to her.

No one knows her secret better than I, no one knows that she makes up for her lack of natural talent through sheer force of will. Her desire for power is so sharp it's frightening. But I remain more powerful than she is, and she knows it. No one else ever will, other than you, my darling. Remember that loyalty is a staple of the Noble House of Black, and traitor though I am to my name, I've not forgotten that.

Traitor.

That's why I won't speak of my family. They view me as a traitor to our blood. Bella's taunting words echo in my ears to this day, and that cold, cruel look of Cissa's still flashes before me every time I close my eyes.

Narcissa is the opposite of Bella in many ways, but not so much that she is like me. Where Bella is fiery, Cissa is like ice, pale and fragile. While vain and vapid, don't make the mistake of assuming she's harmless. There is more to Cissa than meets the eye. Rather than lose her temper, she shows no emotion at all, and instead saves it up for when she truly needs it. Streams of sapphire echo her footsteps like icicles after a storm.

Both of my sisters hate me now. Because of you, because of your father. Because I dared to look beyond blood for love.

Growing up a Black meant power, prestige, privilege and respect. I also used to think it made me better than everyone else. And I thought having pure blood gave me stronger magic. Until I turned eleven.

Going to Hogwarts had always been my dream, as it is my dream for you. I had an incredible desire to learn, such that the Sorting Hat nearly placed me in Ravenclaw, but gave in eventually to the pressures of family and placed me in Slytherin. I wanted to learn every spell from every book, I wanted the power at my fingertips, and most importantly, I wanted to show the world just how talented Andromeda Black was.

What I learned instead was that my mother had lied to me.

I refuse to make the same mistake with you. Here is your first lesson: blood means nothing at Hogwarts. Completely unprepared, the foundations of my perfect world crumbled one after another. There were Muggleborns at Hogwarts. To me this was inconceivable. Hundreds of them, Muggleborn, half-blood, Muggle-lover, they were every where I stepped and I was appalled.

My sure-footed pureblood confidence slipped and I struggled to hold onto it. After all, that sense of superiority was all that distinguished me from the rest of the terrified first years who were stepping into an unknown world.

What I discovered my first year at Hogwarts shocked and horrified me. Though I was head and shoulders above most, I was not the only talented student in my year. And what made it worse was that many of the Muggleborn students were just as gifted.

My sweet child, don't make the same mistake I did. Don't enter life assuming you're better than anyone for any reason, because sooner or later you will meet someone who is better than you in nearly every way. And when that day comes you'll want to be friends with that person, rather than drive him away.

Because of my arrogance, I nearly lost the only part of my life worth having.

Your father.

It took me seven long years to fully shed my pureblooded exterior and to discover that the name of Black couldn't shield me from the world anymore.

As I write this letter to you, my unborn child, it is exactly one year to the day that I accepted your father's proposal and walked away from my family and my world. Never was I faced with a more difficult decision, and I pray you never have to face the same.

My own inner magic glows sage green when I'm calm and grounded. Only then, on the evening before my wedding, I felt as if I had lost that, too. I had lost who Andromeda Black was, and I was afraid I wouldn't find her again. That proud girl with so much power in her, the young woman who conquered, dominated, her fears. I couldn't find that girl with the bright mind and the love of her family, upon whose respect she built her entire life.

I admit to having been lost, to having been confused. I didn't know what to do, and sometimes I still wonder if I made the right choice. You may be horrified to read that, but it's often difficult to tell the difference between right and wrong. Sometimes there is only a blurred line between you and destruction. May you never be faced with a choice like that.

I always thought I knew what was right, and, until I met your father, I never questioned the choices I made. But they were made in ignorance. Something can be right and wrong in the same moment. I wondered, how could turning my back on my family, my name, my blood, ever be the right decision? But when that same family threatened to keep me from the most important part of my life, how could it be wrong?

Fear was not an acceptable emotion for a Black, but that's what I felt--scared. As well as lost and alone. Your father changed that for me. In fact, I still remember his words to me.

He found me in the park down the street from the small one-room flat we had rented together four months before. I was sitting on the children's swings, aimlessly rocking back and forth, staring out at the world with empty eyes. Ted came to me and gave me a gentle push.

"You can always turn back," he said.

"No, I can't," I replied, closing my eyes and feeling the breeze in my hair, the pressure of his fingers against my back. "I'll never go back."

"I love you, but I won't keep you from your family, if that's where you want to be. I can see the change in you, Romy," he said, using the special nickname he had thought of for me.

"Is the change so bad, then?" I asked. "I thought I was growing."

I couldn't see him, as he was standing behind me, but I knew he was smiling.

"Then what is it? You've been too quiet since that last owl from your sister."

I paused mid-swing remembering the epithets that had filled that letter. The anger. Bella had been so furious that she'd spilled half a bottle of ink, which was probably for the best. I wasn't sure I wanted to know what the rest of it said.

"I love you, too," I said, pleased to know that I would never tire of saying those words. "And I'm not leaving you. You're all I have."

"But am I enough?"

Stopping the swing, he came around in front of me, and my voice caught in my throat. "Always." Then after he kissed me I said, "And if you won't do, perhaps the baby will."

I'll never forget his reaction to that bit of news.

Let me make one thing clear. I loved my sisters, and turning away from them was hardly easy, but I can't regret it. Not knowing that there is you, not knowing that even without them I have a family, one of my own making.

And not all of the members of the Black family are lost to me. You'll meet your cousin Sirius one day, little one, and you'll love him as I do. He's a good man with a strong heart, much like your father. He, too, has been disowned by the family, though for different reasons.

I lost my connection to my father a long time ago; once Mother had died there was a chasm between us that we made no attempt to bridge. He chose Bellatrix over me, and Narcissa loved him in a way I couldn't.

But that was when I began to lose my sisters as well. I loved them both, perhaps too much. We began to separate when Mother died, only, unlike with Father, I fought to hold onto them. They were my world. But I was too late, and they slipped away. I could see it in their eyes. They thought I had forgotten everything our family stood for.

Bella had always envied me for being more powerful, but had loved me because we were blood. Cissa was always in awe of be because I was older, and I would do my best to protect her from Bella's machinations. Now they believe I hate them for being what they are. But I don't. I can't. I only regret that they didn't learn the lessons I was taught at Hogwarts; not in the classroom but the halls. I regret losing them to darkness.

But that very love, that regret, is what gives me power over them again, and you must learn this as well. Love is the most powerful weapon you will ever have at your side: harness it. Because I don't hate them, I have it in me to destroy them. And should harm ever come to you at their hands, I will do it.

Because you are my everything.

I couldn't have turned them even if I'd tried. Bella's will and pride are too strong, she would never have listened to my pleas. And Cissa is her protege; I lost any hold I may have had on her long ago.

Looking at my two sisters makes me look at the girl I used to be. And I can't decide whether to pity her or repudiate her.

I'm better than I used to be, and I only hope you will be as I am, not as I was. I hardly remember what it's like to have had such a pureblood mania. Yet, in many ways I'm still the same. It took me awhile to discover that in myself, Nymphadora. You are always who you think you are. My family didn't necessarily dictate who I had to be.

But while I want you to take advice from this letter, I also don't want to give you the wrong impression. There is nothing wrong with family pride. And there is nothing wrong with loving your siblings. What is wrong is when you let your bloodline control your life, to the point where you are making decisions that are detrimental rather than beneficial. But don't for one moment think I ever regretted loving my family.

You may wonder how, if I loved my sisters so much, could I ever have come to love your father? It wasn't easy. And I'm surprised he was so persistent; had I been in his shoes, I would have given up much more quickly.

But once he taught me what I needed to know, that blood didn't matter and that I had to look for the good in people, then it was easy to love him.

I don't care about his blood, and that's what marks me a traitor. But it doesn't matter. He may not be pureblooded but he's good. He is genuinely good-hearted, extraordinarily gifted with magic, and brave beyond all recognition. You'll love him too, I know it.

And he tells me he loves me. Not my name, not my blood, or my magic, but the woman he can somehow see within me, even when I can't see her myself.

That's the reason I gave up so much. I turned away from my universe for a man who knows who I am. That's worth everything to me.

Ted shines with gold, so brightly he often makes me feel ashamed of my past. That isn't to say he's perfect--far from it. He's stubborn, and taunts me for my mistakes. He pretends he's better than I am, as if moral superiority can be measured. He and I argue all the time, hardly ever able to agree on anything.

But despite all of his negative qualities, when I'm with him he makes me feel as if, at least for a moment, I can be better than I am. Even stronger and more powerful than I already am. And so I love him. Because he can give me something no one else in the world can: a sense of self.

If you ever find that, my dear, hold onto it and treasure it because it only comes around once in a lifetime.

So when I chose Ted, your father, alone and without my sisters by my side, I made my betrayal official. Once and for all, Andromeda Black died, wasting away, lost in another time.

And Andromeda Tonks lives, carrying the next generation of Black, a greater and more powerful bloodline now that it is tempered by a good heart, and not just magic.

Love,

Mother