"A Long-Forgotten Queen," various Blacks, PG Title: A Long-Forgotten Queen Author:kethlenda Characters/Pairing: Andromeda/Ted, Bellatrix/Andromeda, OFC/OMC, Elladora/OMC Summary: Andromeda finds a kindred spirit in an old diary. Rating: PG Warning(s): character deaths, implied incest, violence Originally Written: 1/06 Notes: Written in a huge burst of inspiration the day first photos of the Black family tree were posted. This has since been jossed by the revelation that the burn next to Elladora was actually Isla or Ilsa, not an earlier Nymphadora, and that Isla's husband was a Muggle, not a pureblood whom Elladora wanted to marry. I could theoretically retrofit this, but while that would increase the disowned Black sister's parallels with Andromeda, it would also mess up the plot point about Tonks's name. So I'm leaving it as-is.
Children are contrary creatures, thought Andromeda. You always think you know what they will grow to be, but they always surprise you.
You can try to make your daughter’s life easier than your own ever was, and she can do her best to throw obstacles in her own path, and thwart all your best-laid plans.
You can give your daughter a name that bespeaks courage and passion and defiance, only to have her turn that defiance against you and refuse ever to be known by that name. Then you can watch her turn out to have all that passion and courage anyway. You realize the name does not, cannot, bring the same memories to her mind that it brings to yours. To her it’s only a relic, a dusty token of bygone days. She will never realize how much she is like the other, her namesake. Like enough to being tears to Andromeda’s eyes.
* * *
May 11, 1857
Ella broke my doll today. She ripped its head off because I annoyd her. I hate Ella. Nurse says I shouldn’t hate Ella. I should love her because she’s my sister.
If we didn’t look so much alike, I would not believe she was my sister. Maybe one of us was a chanjechangi changeling left by the fairies. If it’s true, then the fairies did well. Looking at her face is like looking in the mirror.
But she’s mean and vishous. And I’m not. Or at least I don’t want to be.
Andromeda found the diary one rainy spring morning. The water was running down the grimy windows of Grimmauld Place like tainted tears, and the grey sky meant it was dusk-dim even at noon. She didn’t have a wand yet to cast Lumos like Mum and Dad did, so she lit a candle instead.
She was bored. There was nothing to do except play with her sisters. Cissy was still too little to play with, really, and Bella’s games somehow always revolved around tying Andromeda up and then hitting her with things. Bella, too, wished she were old enough for a wand. Andromeda’s private theory was that Bella just wanted it so she could hex people.
She paced the room, waiting for inspiration to strike. An uneven stone tile caught her foot, sending her sprawling to the floor. Andromeda said a word under her breath, a word she’d heard Father use. (She’d heard Bella use it once too, but Bella had been spanked for it.) As she picked herself back up, she hoped she would be less clumsy when she got older.
Her eyes fell on the off-kilter tile. It wasn’t sticking up anymore. It was lying off to the side—she must have moved it when she tripped over it. She went to push it back into place, and saw instead a secret nook revealed by its absence. She reached her hand into the small dark place, and felt a leather shape beneath her hand. Drawing it out, she realized it was a book.
This was welcome indeed, as Andromeda had already read all the books in her room. She opened it, and its brittle yellow pages left dust on her fingers. To her surprise, it was filled not with printed words, but with handwriting, as squiggly and messy as her own fumbling attempts with quill and parchment.
This is the Secret Diary of Nymphadora Black.
That night at dinner, she asked Mum and Dad who Nymphadora Black was. “She’s no one,” said Dad, at the same time as Mum said, “Never existed.”
Andromeda knew the shifting eyes and furtive hand twitches that went with lying, so that night she crept out of bed and down to where the Black family tapestry hung on the wall. There was no one named Nymphadora on it. There was, however, someone who sounded like she might be Ella. Elladora. And next to her name, a round burn mark, as though someone had been erased from history.
* * *
In a way, Andromeda grew up with Nymphadora. At first, she had little interest in the later entries in the book, the ones that were written in much better penmanship and seemed to all be about love and mushy stuff. She kept to the earlier ones in those years, and the words of the mysterious Nymphadora were a friend of sorts, a constant comfort. Whenever things got bad with Mum and Dad, or with Bella, Andromeda could retreat back to the ink-stained pages.
August 22, 1862 I’m writing this from my dormatorydormo room at Hogwarts School. My room—in Ravenclaw! Ella slapped me after the Opening Feast and told me I was a disgrace to the family, just because I’m not in Slytherin. Phineas got all pompous and wanted to know why they even bothered putting girls in Ravenclaw, since girls have no purpose except to get married and have babies and so what’s the point in encuridging them to be clever.
But I think he’s silly, because everybody knows Ravenclaw herself was a girl.
Ella also told me not to be chums with any Mudbloods. But I can’t figure out which ones are Mudbloods. They look just like the other sort.
* * *
December 31, 1867 January 1, 1968
Tonight was Ella’s coming-out ball; she is of age now. Her birthday was really in November, but Mother and Father waited until we were home on holiday. They outdid themselves with this party; there was champagne erupting out of the birthday cake, and about a hundred house-elves at our beck and call. All except Missy, who has grown old and can scarcely lift a tray of late. Ella was looking at her with a strange look on her face. It was almost a smile, but it wasn’t a kind smile; it reminded me of wild cats. Do I even want to know what my sister has in mind? She has a cruel streak, Ella.
It was the same smile she had when Mother and Father announced her betrothal to Tristan Greengrass. That smile was all for me. She knows how I feel about Tristan, and how he feels about me. I looked away from her and across the room at him, and saw him shaking his head mutely, his lips forming the silent word No.
It will not happen. I’d rather die than watch him marry my sister. We’ll find some way around this. At least they didn’t take an Unbreakable Vow.
Andromeda hugged the diary to her chest and tried to sleep, stomach full of butterflies and mind full of thoughts, worry and anticipation tumbling over and over inside her.
Ted.
They had kissed behind the greenhouse, and Andromeda had felt strange inside. It wasn’t just a crush; of that she was sure. She’d had those before, and this was nothing like that.
Nor was it only desire; she knew desire from the dark summer nights when Bellatrix stole into her bedroom and subdued her with Incarcerous and Silencio, had her way with Andromeda as the tears rolled down Grimmauld’s windows.
This was fate. This was destiny.
At least she knew she was not alone; there was Nymphadora, her words whispering across the years that there was another way, that it was possible to defy the call of blood and duty.
* * *
A letter, pressed between the pages:
Meet me at King’s Cross tonight. We’ll get away from all of them.
I love you.
--T.
Andromeda turned the next page, smiling, sure the next entry would be the joyous account of Nymphadora and Tristan’s elopement. Just the sort of thing she needed to take her mind off the fact that it was summer holidays and she was stuck at home again. Instead she read, in the most perfectly precise handwriting she had ever seen:
June 12, 1868
This is Ella’s wedding day! How happy I am to see her marry Tristan at last! Strange, how much lighter and calmer I feel now that I’ve come to my senses about this whole matter. I’m to be the maid of honour, and stand beside Ella as she takes her vows. All I want is to be a credit to my family today.
After that, the book was empty.
Tears of disbelief stung her eyes, and half-blinded she padded down to the tapestry, as though making a pilgrimage, not sure what she expected to find in its time-worn stitches. Nymphadora didn’t even sound like herself in that last missive. Imperius? Of course. The family must have used all the power at their disposal to bend her to their will.
She ran her finger over the familiar char mark again, then looked to the left, to Elladora, not sure she could bear to see her name chained by golden thread to that of Tristan Greengrass.
Instead, Elladora’s branch ended with her. Elladora had never married.
Andromeda tossed in bed that night, unable to sleep, vowing that the next morning she would go to the library, read the old Prophets, learn the ending of the tale that had been her lodestar.
* * *
Disturbance at Wedding Shocks Wizarding Society
The planned nuptials of Elladora Black and Tristan Greengrass were cancelled today after a shocking occurrence in which Elladora’s sister, Nymphadora, interrupted the final vows by bolting from her place, seizing the groom’s hand, and running with him from the chapel.
“Nymphadora has disgraced us all,” said Medea Black. Madam Black went on to say that her younger daughter would no longer be welcome in her home.
The minister was heard to say, “It was strange, very strange indeed. The groom and the maid of honor looked dazed somehow, sort of glassy-eyed, and then they seemed to awaken as I began the final vows. They almost seemed to be under the influence of some sort of drug.”
The families deny that Mr. Greengrass and Miss Black were drugged, or under any sort of curse.
Elladora Black refused to comment.
Double Murder Seen as Retaliation for Wedding Incident
The bodies of Miss Nymphadora Black, 17, and Mr. Tristan Greengrass, 18, were found today in their Diagon Alley flat.
It is speculated that they were killed by someone angered by their scandalous behavior two weeks ago at the aborted wedding of Mr. Greengrass to Miss Black’s sister. However, no one has yet been charged with the crime.
Unusually, Miss Black and Mr. Greengrass were slain by means of beheading.
* * *
Andromeda slipped the book into her daughter’s hand, copies of the two newspaper clippings folded neatly into the back. “Take this,” she said with a sad smile. “It has a tragic ending, but I hope you’ll come to understand why I gave you that name,”
Nymphadora gave Andromeda a quizzical look, but accepted the book.
“I thought you might want it,” said Andromeda. “It’s the story of a woman who fell for a man who was forbidden to her. It seems to be a family tradition, doesn’t it?”