Symphony | Andromeda Black

Music

When she went back to Hogwarts, she felt like she needed time to think, about Bellatrix and the Dark Lord especially, but also because her own maturity problems were embarrassing her. She went down to the kitchens, where the house elves practically threw food at her. She talked to Yula for a while, steadily eating her way through scones, buns and cake until she forced herself to stop.

There was much excitement over the next few days. Glenda had gotten a wonderful Christmas present, something Lacrimosa and Andromeda had never seen before – a portable record player, and she had taken it to Hogwarts. The three of them were to be found clustered around it in an empty classroom one evening, listening to it in wonder. She had never heard music like this.

Andromeda didn't have a clue how it played the disc-like records, because even when Glenda explained it it sounded like madness. She wondered if it were powered by magic or at the very least some kind of tiny creature – but it was a muggle object, and there was nothing living in it. She was quite frightened of it at first but after a while began to relax, because she thought nothing so bad could sound so beautiful. Glenda had a few records, with the strange names of muggle and wizarding bands both. Andromeda didn't even know the wizarding ones, being that Cygnus disapproved of modern music. She drank the music in like water, listening to not only the strange muggle sounds, but also magical bands too, until Glenda suggested in March that perhaps she could ask her parents for a record player for her birthday. Andromeda shook her head.

"They wouldn't get me one. They don't approve of music, and certainly not muggle music."

"Oh. Well at home we've got a proper big one and loads of records. Mum loves Elvis and Dusty Springfield."

These names were like a foreign language. "Her name is Dusty? And he doesn't have a surname?"

Glenda giggled as Elvis crooned in the background. "No, silly, his surname is Presley and that's just her stage name."

"Stage name?" Andromeda was baffled, but by now Glenda was used to explaining things like this to her. "Her real name is Mary or something, but she changed it to sound more glamorous. I think she's the most glamorous lady ever. I wanted my hair in a beehive like her but Mum said I was too young."

Andromeda wasn't sure how somebody's hair could be in something bees lived in, but she didn't say so. However Lacrimosa saw her face.

"It's a hairdo," she said. "My mother gets her hair done like that all the time. She thinks it looks ever so glamorous, but I think it just looks stupid. You're lucky, Glenda, she wanted me to get mine like that."

"Your hair is lovely already though," Andromeda said enviously. Unlike her own straight black and Glenda's braided hair, Lacrimosa had a cloud of blonde curls.

"I can't wait until I'm seventeen," Glenda said, propping her chin on her hands. "I'm going to get my hair in a beehive whether Mum likes it or not, and I'm getting a tattoo."

"You are not!" Andromeda and Lacrimosa gasped together. She'd never seen a real person with tattoos, but Glenda had shown her some in a magazine.

"I am too."

Even the idea of piercing frightened Andromeda. Glenda had taken out her earrings once and shown her the little holes, and the thought of a needle through her flesh horrified her. Druella hated piercings and said they were nasty and common.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵　　‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

She was still scared of the Dark Lord and what he might have said to Bellatrix, but her sister wouldn't tell her. Regardless, she seemed in a good mood, so it mustn't have been so bad. The school year came to a close in June, and they all went home, Andromeda telling her sisters about the record player.

Narcissa was entranced, but Bellatrix wrinkled her nose. "Aren't those muggle?"

"Well, yes," Andromeda wriggled uncomfortably. "But the music is wonderful."

"Muggle music gets inside your head and give you all these ideas. Father told me that's what happened to his sister first, before she went to the bad. She started going to all these dances."

"Dances?"

"Music and such," Bellatrix said in disgust. "And she ran off with some blood traitor she met there. Good riddance."

"How do you know all this?"

Bellatrix played with the cord of the blind over the window, her long sleeve buttoned up to the last. "Father told me."

"He never tells us these things."

"He probably just doesn't trust you enough," she said smugly. "He trusts me. He says now I'm the most like him and I've got to carry his legacy and prove our worth to the Dark Lord."

This was like a slap. "His legacy?"

"Oh yes. You mustn't ever tell, but the Dark Lord says that sometimes he finds Father rather tiresome. I'm inclined to agree."

Her sisters stared at her in shock as the train rattled along the track. In the Black family, this was absolute heresy. Cygnus was their father, the master of the house. To disrespect him was to disrespect the family.

Narcissa found her voice first. "You can't say that, Bellatrix!"

"Of course I can," she said, sounding bored. "All he does is talk about the past and grovel to him. The Dark Lord says he prefers those with free spirit, like me."

Pride made her face glow.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵　　‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

When they got back to the house, Bellatrix was inexplicably called to the drawing room, and the heavy doors closed. Andromeda and Narcissa waited outside, but the sound was blocked and they could hear nothing until Druella came out, her eyes rather red.

She sniffed when she saw them sitting on the floor. "Do get up, Andromeda, Narcissa," she said. "At least one of you must have some sense."

And then she swept off up the stairs.

Andromeda kept a close watch on her sister but didn't notice the one thing Narcissa did, until her sister whispered it to her: Bellatrix always wore long sleeves these days, no matter the weather.