Goodbyes and New Beginnings
Chapter 2
★
The clinking of their forks filled the silence of the dining room as Lydia and Addy took in their thoughts. Addy would’ve liked to say she handled the news of Sirius Black being her papa with the maturity she held in her last life, but in truth, she had completely shut down. Too busy playing the movies out in her mind, she realised with horror that she had witnessed his death, or at least a version of it. She and her maman didn’t exist in that storyline. According to her maman, they had been in hiding. The Death Eaters would’ve come for them if they knew the main Black line continued through her. Lydia was in danger because of her non la magie (no magic) status. Magical Britain would’ve caused a discriminatory uproar simply because a pureblood English wizard fell in love and married a French squib. Addy knew this, but it hurt that this part of her was hidden away. It was irrational, but part of her felt like a dirty secret. Completely irrational. She rubbed at her chest; the sting of it all felt almost physical.
The British magical world was a harsh place for those who didn't fit the pureblood ideal. Lydia had told Addy stories about the grandeur of the Black family, their ancient manor filled with dark artifacts and the oppressive air of pureblood supremacy. Even though Lydia came from a respected French magical lineage, her squib status made her an outcast.
“Pourquoi papa n'a pas suivi? Il y a quelque chose qui ne va pas chez moi? (Why didn’t papa follow us? Is there something wrong with me?)” Addy felt defective. The events of last night only served to solidify that belief.
“Non! Ton père t'aimait de tout son cœur. Tu es son rayon de lumière, étoile (No! Your father loved you with all his heart. You are his ray of light, star),” Lydia had left her seat and was now holding onto Addy. “Nevaire zink leaving us was easy for 'im. Sirius needed us safe. Eet was a terrible time, and we 'eld 'ope zat 'e could return to us.” Lydia fought her tears. She could still feel him near her after all these years and often used his presence for strength. The magical world had changed so much, and yet, for them, it remained a dangerous place full of memories and threats.
“But he didn’t return. He left us. Left me,” All pretenses of being unaffected fell away as she sobbed into her maman’s shoulder. It was an all-consuming feeling of worthlessness that embedded itself into her heart. Instead of being with her and her maman, he fought and died for Harry. It was selfish on her part, but a seed of hatred settled in her gut for Harry and Dumbledore. Her papa, from the story she knew, was manipulated. He was used as a pawn and was never given help for his declining mental health. They had failed him. Addy clung tighter to her maman at that thought. Her papa wasn’t in his right mind, and her maman had no power as a squib. Her family was all but helpless to the whims of schoolchildren and the Order.
“Il n'avait pas le choix, ma cœur (He had no choice, my heart). "Ze moment 'e 'eld you was", faute d'un meilleur mot, magique (for lack of a better word, magical). "'E called you 'is brightest star. You were 'is 'ope, Adhara. For a better future, a better life. For ze family 'e 'ad always wanted.” Lydia's voice softened as she recalled the few tender moments they had shared as a family, hidden away from the world. The look in Sirius's eyes when he first saw Addy, the tears of joy and sorrow mixed in his gaze.
“Tu ne les détestes pas? Ceux qui l'ont fait rester? (Don’t you hate them? The ones that made him stay?)” asked Addy once she had calmed. She was, in a way, grateful for Melanie's memories. Her papa could live in her mind through those movies. She already knew that the actor and the real Sirius weren’t the same man, but she was able to get to know him in a way that she wouldn’t have been able to without her last life. She wouldn’t have known his story. She wouldn’t have known who her family was.
“Je les ai détestés pendant longtemps (I hated them for a long time),” Lydia breathed out her secret. She would never forgive the mistreatment she experienced at the hands of his friends. She had no active magic, so to them, she was a burden to their movement and Sirius. Her only redeeming quality was being able to carry on the Black family line. Her truth was she despised those people. The “light” was no better than any of the other prejudiced pureblood wizards. They looked down on her squib status. They mocked her. They thought themselves more brilliant and above what she had to say. The only reason the “light” was deemed better was that they treated muggles, squibs, and muggleborns as pets who needed to be looked after rather than slaves or pests that needed to be eradicated. Both groups were horrible in their own ways. “"Zey were not our allies, but your fazzer felt ze need to fight alongside zem.". Le courageux idiot (The brave idiot),” Lydia gave a small laugh at that. Her husband was so headstrong and prideful. “'E 'ad lost so much because of ze war, and so 'e couldn’t stand ze thought of losing us, too. Don’t be upset wiz 'im.”
“I’m not, maman. I promise. I wish he were here with us. C’est stupide (It’s stupid), but I miss him,” Addy confessed.
“Ce n'est pas stupide (It’s not stupid). "'E is and will always be your papa.”
“Will you tell me about them? My English family?” Addy had asked. They had spent the rest of the day staying close to each other. Addy needed her maman to ground her to her present self. The more she thought about that life, the more detailed the memories became. It was almost as if she was there and her life as Addy was a dream. It was untrue, of course. No physical feelings were attached to the memories, and the emotions they evoked were dull. Remembering helped her understand what was expected of her—the magic and what it meant to be Heiress Black. There was an underlying fear of what was to come, and though the memories sometimes frightened her, how easily she could become lost in them even more so, she was grateful for the guidance that they provided.
“Ah,” Lydia tutted, “Ze Black family. You know, growing up, I 'ad 'eard stories of zem. Even in France, zey were well known. Sometimes, it was in whispers. Rumours. I learned of zeir pride and ferocity. Zeir mastery in dueling and ze dark arts. Your great-grandfazzer, Arcturus, was said to be one of ze most powerful wizards in England. Your fazzer, zough excitable and unpredictable, was following in 'is footsteps. Training to be ze next Lord Black."
“Je pensais que papa avait été renié par sa maman. Tu as dit que ses amis étaient sa famille (I thought papa was disowned by his mom. You said his friends were his family),” Addy interjected. They briefly talked about Sirius throughout the day. What he was like as a teenager. This Sirius was only slightly different from the books and movies Sirius, but just the same, he had left home to live with his best friend James Potter. Addy had assumed that meant he was no longer heir and was disowned by Walburga.
“Non, sa mère n'avait aucun contrôle sur une telle décision (No, his mother had no control over such a decision). Only Lord Black could take away zeir name and family magic. It wasn’t done often, and your fazzer was chosen by ze Black family's magic to lead zem. Non, écarter Sirius aurait signifié la chute de la Maison Black (No, ousting Sirius would’ve meant the downfall of House Black). Your fazzer was ze pride of ze family, except to your grand-mère (grandmother). "She wanted different zings for ze family. Zings she 'ad no right to want.”
They remained cuddled on the couch as she thought over her mother’s words. Walburga was a blemish to the Black family name in this world as she was in the books and it sounded as if she was the one pushing for them to align with Voldemort.
“Et des cousins? Tantes ou oncles? (What about cousins? Aunts or uncles?)” There was hope in Addy’s questions. With the changes, maybe more of her family would be alive. Perhaps they were waiting for her? A flash of guilt struck her as she felt her maman’s soothing embrace tense momentarily.
Lydia sighed deeply, her eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and determination. “Oui, tu as des cousins (Yes, you have cousins). Ton père avait un frère, Regulus (Your father had a brother, Regulus). 'E was younger and more easily influenced by zeir mother. 'E joined ze Death Eaters but regretted eet later. 'E tried to fight against Voldemort from within but disappeared. We believe 'e was killed.”
Addy felt a pang of sadness for the uncle she never knew. “What about the cousins? Are any of them alive?”
“I believe so. I’m so sorry, ma coeur (my heart), I 'ave lost touch with Magical Britain for so long. Ze last I 'eard from anyone was,” Lydia’s throat tightened as tears threatened to overtake her. Blinking rapidly, she looked upwards in hopes of fighting off the well of grief that frequently drowned her when thinking about her Sirius and the letter she received informing her of his death. She had known before that, of course. They were bonded through magic’s blessing, and the moment he had passed through the veil, she felt a piece of her soul leave with him. As the days passed, she begged for a numbness to consume her. She was locking herself away at night, destroying anything and everything within her reach. She would wail into pillows and blankets. They would be soaked with tears and spit by morning—dark shadows and heavy bags protrusive under sunken eyes and hollow cheeks. Eventually, months after her nightmare was confirmed true, she embraced the agony. The constant stinging pain was a reminder of their love. As was Adhara. The striking resemblance between father and daughter made it, at times, near impossible to leave her daughter’s side; the dread of losing her all too prevalent. The fear eased when she heard whispers of the Dark Lord’s death.
Keeping her head tilted back and eyes upward, Lydia continued with less difficulty, "Ze war 'ad destroyed many families. You are ze last of ze Black name."
Addy felt a lump form in her throat. “The last? But there were so many of them...”
“Oui, ma chérie (Yes, my dear),” Lydia said softly. "Ze Blacks were a powerful and influential family, but zey were also divided. Ze war tore zem apart, zose who followed Voldemort and zose who opposed 'im. Many of ze great 'ouses fell during zis dark time. 'Ouse Black was no exception.”
Addy drifted through the school days for the rest of the week with unseeing eyes. Her maman had explained the significance of being a Black and the family magic choosing her. The bracelet on her wrist was a heavy reminder of what it hid from the muggles. From people meant to be her friends, but that seemed fractured now because of these secrets she carried like lead weights.
The British magical world had always been full of whispers and secrets, and now, Addy was part of that hidden reality. The bracelet, an heirloom from her father’s family, was charmed to mask her magical aura and keep her safe from those who might seek to exploit or harm her. It was an old piece of Black family magic, a protective measure that had been passed down for generations. It also concealed the fact that Addy was a Metamorphmagus, an extremely rare trait in the Black family that manifested when new blood and magic were added to ancient family lines.
It was slow, the distancing, but her friends took notice, and by Friday, teachers grew concerned about her behaviour and self-isolation. Addy couldn’t find it in herself to care. It all seemed mundane compared to the bigger picture, which was her life. Her maman began talking to her in whispers and gentle words, treating Adhara as if she were a creature that could easily frighten.
"'Ow long will zis continue? I cannot endure ze saddened look on your face for one more moment, ma étoile (my star),” was a hushed plea from her maman. It had been a full week since her discovery, days since their last talk of going to Magical Britain.
“I want to go, and you won’t let me,” the words were bitter off her tongue. Her maman had objected to letting her go to Grimmauld Place and Castle Black. Even stepping foot in Diagon Alley was met with a firm no.
“You know eet’s dangerous. Zey don’t take kindly to zose like me. I’m only trying to keep you safe,” it was desperate, and Addy would have caved if she didn’t know better, but she did.
“You’re keeping me from connecting to papa,” her maman sucked in a harsh breath and Addy knew it was a low blow but she was just as desperate. “There’s a reason this all happened now. My magic is making itself known. What if I hurt someone, maman? I need to learn, and I want to see where papa lived. There could be answers in the family library about what has happened to me. Answers to the memories and dreams.” Addy was breathing heavily after her small rant. She didn’t notice her maman’s inquisitive stare.
“Que s'est-il passé? (What happened?) What memories, Adhara?” Lydia turned Addy to face her on the couch. Her daughter had been keeping secrets, and a sinking feeling formed in her gut. She stared intently into Addy’s eyes, willing her mind to open to her. Willing to know what had been happening to her while she had been ignorant of it. Like a fool, she assumed it was only Adhara’s magic and the Black family's magic expanding. She did not for a moment consider her own family. Lydia had long accepted her status and lack of access to the minor magic she held.
Curling into herself, Addy began to describe the night she had died. Her last life. The dreams of Melanie, of being Melanie. She did not mention the way she had died; that part was now a blur. The images she knew once shown to her manifested now as a dull ache. If she overthought about it, she would find herself struck with grief. Addy explained how her mind felt more mature but still innocent as the child she was in this life. She felt Melanie and Addy were the same. The only part of her story she kept to herself was knowing her papa’s story because, in her last life, that was all he was—a character in a story. Addy refused to break her maman’s heart; it would’ve been cruel and undeserving. Drawing in a deep breath, she looked to her maman for support. She was reassured that she had not lost her mind due to the Black madness her maman did not know she already knew about.
“You won’t be going to school zis week. I’ll 'ave to call and let zem know you won’t be returning at all,” Lydia, graceful as she was, bolted from the couch and started pacing. “Trip arrangements need to be made as well. Muggle travel will be ze most discreet, I believe.”
“Maman?” Addy called for her maman’s attention, but she was too consumed by thoughts of planning to hear.
“We’ll travel to France first. My family name 'olds ze most weight zere; it’ll open doors for us. Zere 'as not been an 'eir in so long. Et les Français ne sont pas aussi incompétents que les Anglais (And the French are not as incompetent as the English),” she snorted the last part. Disdain was evident by the curl of her lip. It was no secret, now even to her daughter, that she hated the British Ministry of Magic after what they had done to her sweet Sirius.
“Maman?” she tried again. Her voice shook slightly with anxiety, which pulled Lydia from her mind. There on the couch was Addy curled into a tight ball. She was trembling slightly, knees pulled to her chest, and small arms tightly wrapped around her legs.
“Ma coeur (My heart),” Lydia pulled Addy into her lap. The small girl continued to tremble as she held on to her maman.
“Am I broken?” Her voice was small, heartbreaking.
“Non, non (No, no). I forgot myself for a moment. Eet 'ad—what 'appened to you, ma étoile (my star), does not mean you are broken. Eet is magie familiale (family magic) manifesting in ze form of memories,” the explanation was short. Lydia was being truthful when she said she forgot herself, but currently, it was as if she had lost her mind—her head.
“But the Black family is English; why must we go to France?”
“Ce n'est pas la magie des Black (It is not Black magic). "Eet is my family. I nevaire zought—so, of course, I nevaire mentioned it. An oversight on my part, but could anyone blame me?”
“I don’t understand what’s happening. I broke you, didn’t I?”
Lydia’s laugh was instant and infectious. As they turned to chuckles, Addy couldn’t help but smile and let out some of her own small huffs of laughter.
“Ma famille, ta famille, en France ont un grand pouvoir dans leur connaissance de l'Alchimie (My family, your family, in France hold great power in their knowledge of Alchemy). A branch of magic no longer widely taught. We’ve always 'eld ze gift of sight in our line, but it was rare. From what I was told by mon père (my father), it was not ze same each time someone in our line 'eld such power. Some saw zeir future, ze future of a loved one, zeir death. Your many times over arrière grand-père (great-grandfather) saw 'is past life. 'E nevaire spoke much of what 'e saw, but 'e turned to alchemy, and with ze family magic choosing 'im, 'e became ze Lord of our 'ouse. Each time a new Lord appeared, zey, too, would follow ze path of Alchemy. Unlike ozzer pureblood families, ze gift chooses ze one to lead our family. I never zought you would be chosen, ma coeur (my heart). With my being non la magie (no magic), I believed it would skip my descendants even wiz us being of ze mainline.” Lydia sighed, eyes glazed over at what this meant for Addy’s future. She would need to be introduced to society. At the very least, her existence must be made known to the French Ministry of Magic.
Fidgeting with her silver bracelet, Addy asked, “Why didn’t this stop the memories like it does my transforming?”
Reaching for Addy’s wrist, Lydia gently stroked the delicate metal adorned with obsidian stones, the Black family crest carved on the clasp. “Ze magic in zese stones directly focuses on ze Black family magic you carry. Eet’s meant to be a form of protection, but your fazzer zought it best if it was used to 'elp blend in with muggles. We couldn’t send you off to school wiz a pig snout, now could we?” Lydia lightly pinched the tip of Addy’s nose, sending the girl into a fit of giggles.
True to her word, the week leading up to Hallowe’en was spent packing the house and making plans to leave for France. Lydia had no approximation for when they would return. A letter of resignation was sent to her employer. It was unprofessional, and leaving them without a proper two weeks notice left her in knots, but needs must be met for the sake of Addy. By Wednesday, their luggage had been packed, and any personal items not being taken were boxed. Movers had been hired, and a storage unit rented. Lydia had been living on coffee and short naps when she could find the time. The days blurred together, her eyes stung with mild sleep deprivation when Thursday night finally snuck up on Lydia. The small house she had made a home for her daughter now looked bigger than she remembered it to be. It was bare of their furniture. Not a trace of their soon-to-be former life could be seen.
“Maman, we have to go,” Addy tugged on her maman’s hand, gaining her attention.
“I know, ma étoile (my star). I’m just saying goodbye.”
“Goodbye?” asked Addy.
“Oui (Yes). Everyzing is going to be different now, Adhara. Are you sure you’re ready?"
Addy looked around the empty house. She could still hear the laughter once shared echo off the walls—the tears, the small fights that led to apology pizza and ice cream. The tiny house held the beginning of their story. The foundation heard all their secrets even when whispered. She knew she would miss the only place she had ever known. Tightening her hold on her maman’s hand, she gave a slight nod. She was ready for more. Outside of this was a life that carried into the unknown. It was frightening, or it could’ve been, but to Adhara, it was the start of an adventure.
“Different but in a good way, I think,” Addy whispered before turning away and giving her maman another tug to leave the house that would no longer be their home. “Come on, maman. I’m ready now.”