Andromeda watched her sister crouch to pick up a shard of glass, but didn't move to defend herself. She shouldn't need to, if she appeared confident enough, if Bellatrix believed her to be as armed as she should have been. In a duel, there was no telling who, between them, would win, but that Andromeda had decades worth of experience on her sister.
The words hurt, dug into Andromeda's secret insecurities: a middle aged grandmother she certainly was. Her usefulness had run out. Gone was the youthful girl full of potential, whose whole life still lay before her, full of promise. She had mourned her husband without a body to bury. She had buried her daughter and son-in-law. She did have a future to look forward to; one in which she raised her daughter's son alone, completely alone but for a boy who couldn't help but see her sister, this sister, every time he looked at her. Her grandson who would somehow grow to claim all of the guilt associated with his parents' death. Guilt that belonged only to her.
On this island, her husband was alive, though she didn't currently love him. Her daughter was alive and well, well on her way to marrying a man who wouldn't mean social ostracism and a life of poverty, and her grandson... Her grandson was proof that she had failed. A dramatic boy incapable of handling any of life's hurdles.
What did she have to offer?
Andromeda smiled as she rose to her feet, transfiguring the sparkle in her eyes to that of amusement, hiding the pain in the only way she knew how. In the way she'd been trained to do by the same tutors Bellatrix had had.
"Power. That's what I have, Bella." With leisurely steps, Andromeda made her slow way back toward the door. "My wand. Power over housing and employment. Power over activities in which everyone is forced to participate. Over interactions and the social networks available to everyone on the island. I have her ear. I communicate directly with her." She rested her arm on the doorframe on her way out, but paused to look back at her sister, with a look of utter boredom. "You... have nothing."