Symphony | Andromeda Black

World War

Most of the people at school knew Andromeda was engaged now, the purebloods at least. Many of them, too, were heard to be talking about their own engagements. In the dormitory, there was excitement as Theodora Yaxley showed off her shiny diamond ring, and she looked scornful when Andromeda said she didn't have one yet, though she didn't say anything. Nobody dared so much as accidentally brush against either of the Black sisters anymore, not when Bellatrix was gaining the reputation she was. Andromeda heard them whispering about her sometimes, in the dormitory, the common room, the corridors. She hoped they were just stupid rumours spread by gossips, and tried to ignore them, but they still made her sick, because deep down she knew that Bellatrix would do those things.

She had no doubt in her mind that Bellatrix would do anything for the Dark Lord, and at just twenty years old her sister was fast becoming one of the most feared death eaters out there. To the other students and even some teachers, Andromeda was now just a ghost they were afraid of acknowledging. It was the loneliest she had ever been at Hogwarts, and she couldn't even talk to Narcissa. Her sister had her friends by her side, but Andromeda didn't have any, not now. Next year Sirius would be starting Hogwarts, and he was so excited about it that it almost hurt to think of them treating him like that too.

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In early November, an event was announced at Hogwarts – there was to be a Christmas concert performed on the second last day of term, and the teachers encouraged everyone to take part, especially those who could play an instrument or wanted to be in the choir. Andromeda sang like a hoarse bullfrog, and she had long since abandoned the piano. She kept her head down when Professor McGonagall took names. There was excitement among the students, and they began to have practices, Christmas carols echoing in the halls at lunch. Letitia Barrows irritated everyone in the Slytherin common room by continuously scraping the same horrible tune on her poor violin, and Narcissa said she was going to be in the choir. 

"But you can't sing," Andromeda said in surprise, over her cornflakes one morning. Miss Travers had attempted to do some hymns with them long ago, and had told Narcissa she sounded like a dying horse.

"I can try," Narcissa smoothed her skirt. "You don't have to be good, McGonagall said. It's just to have fun."

This was as alien to the way they had been raised as she could get. Cygnus had always told them that winning was that mattered, that being the best in all competitions was everything. If you came second in the Black household, you might as well have come last.

Her sister paused. "You should join too, Andy."

"Me?" Andromeda repeated, and half shuddered at the thought of standing up there in front of everyone. "No."

"Most of the girls are," Narcissa hesitated. She was wearing an alice band of Slytherin green, and she pushed it back in her pale hair. "And some of the boys."

Narcissa looked up as somebody called her name. Some of her friends were beckoning her by the entry to the Great Hall, and she stood, swinging her bag on her back. "We've got practice. Talk to you later."

"Later," Andromeda agreed, and she pushed her cornflakes away.

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Hogwarts was like a little bubble, a haven away from the news and bustle of the outside world. Teachers rarely mentioned the news, the Dark Lord, or anything connected to him. Andromeda supposed Dumbledore believed that political beliefs had no place in a school, and for that, she was glad. It was enough to hear about the glory of the Dark Lord at home, to hear the revered whispers of him in the dark dormitory at night. 

Class was a break from all of that, somewhere to pretend none of it existed. In class she was just a normal student, a teenage girl who studied, answered questions, kept her head down and did as she was told. Her family name didn't matter when it came to Arithmancy or Divination. When she looked at questions about the correct way to approach an enraged nest of pixies, how long to leave Veritaserum to brew or what a particular Pict symbol meant, she felt a sense of calm she never did when surrounded by whispering girls or family members. Her grades were better than ever before and a part of her aching soul found a soothing balm in the mundane, dull parts of school life.

But that illusion was shattered when the school was called to an unscheduled assembly after dinner in early December. Andromeda, as always these days, sat alone at the Slytherin bench. When Professor Dumbledore came to his podium, he spoke of international war in the wizarding world. He warned students of their safety, told them flatly that any bullying or hate speech as a result of this news would absolutely not be tolerated. 

"We must band together," he said, his face somber and more serious than Andromeda had ever seen it. "Together we are strong. When Grindelwald fought to gain control, it was together we beat him. When Adolf Hitler in the muggle world committed the atrocities he did, it was only by the union of nations that good triumphed evil. Remember this. United we are strong, divided we are weak."

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It was the next day when Andromeda had time to go to the school library. She had never been in the section of muggle books before and did so furtively, half afraid Narcissa or the other girls in her dormitory would see her. The library was almost empty but she still ducked down behind the shelves as she searched through the muggle history books. she flicked through several before she found the unfamiliar name she was looking for, and when she had finished reading, her hands were shaking.

She had had no idea. She didn't think any of her family, or the other girls of her dormitory, knew or cared what had happed not thirty years before in the muggle world. She thought of her parents, her grandparents and everybody else, sitting in their drawing rooms, lounging in their privilege as millions of muggles were massacred. 

She looked at the book again, at the still picture of the man with the moustache. One man, one war, yet millions of lives destroyed. Just like the Dark Lord. 

This was what world war was.