Trapped in Tradition
Trapped in Traditions
The Leaky Cauldron was cool. Good thing. Except for the Blackberry Crackle Cake, tea wasn’t.
The outing started with me going for my wand at Olivander’s. I wished that could’ve lasted longer. My Mother tapped on the door leading to the shop’s back room as I was stroking the beautiful rowan wood of the wand that seemed to have chosen me. “Are you two done in there? We don’t want to be late meeting the Malfoys.”
“Not yet, Mrs. Black.” Mr. Olivander stepped between me and the door. “Let’s have you point that wand again and see what it does for you this time, all right?”
For the second time I lifted it and gazed at the stream of birds that soared from its tip. They were golden and seemed, for the glorious instant they lasted, to be made out of light. “Cool! It did it again! Did you see?”
“I did indeed!” He smiled at me, though I thought his eyes looked sad. His hand closed on my shoulder. “This wand has chosen you. It has very good, strong Magic. It will be your friend for many years.’
I wanted to carry it with me. Feel its weight in my pocket, or stroke the warm wood from time to time. My Mother took it from me as soon as we walked back into the main shop and requested Mr. Olivander send it to our house.
We barely reached the counter at Flourish and Blot’s when she levitated my book list from my hand before I could give it to the clerk. My fingers curled around it as I tried to resist her ‘relinquisha’ charm. Her spell overcame my grip. The parchment sailed into her hands. “Before I approve these purchases I’ll see what you’re studying this year!”
“You could’ve looked at it before! The parchment was on my bedside table the whole last month!”
Turning away, she spread the list on a nearby counter. The clerk cleared his throat as the bell above the door announced two Witches on their way in.
“My letter says we need all that stuff!” I reached for my parchment again before the clerk decided to leave her to browse through it for the whole afternoon.
“Rigor manuum.” She hardly looked up. Her wand flicked. My hands stiffened into statue-like claws. I looked at the clerk, my face prickling hot with anger. Did other mothers act this way, or only mine? He looked from her to the Witches at the door then stayed put. Her finger traced a green column. “Charms, Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts. With Dumbledore in charge? Only fluff, stuff and nonsense. Nothing to be done now, though. Clerk! Send everything on this list to twelve Grimmauld Place, in my name, Nocturna Black. Come, Sirius, we are going to the tailor.”
She started for the door, pausing to flick her wand and release my hands. I balled them into fists in my pockets. She could’ve bloody well asked to see my list! She liked to talk about not humiliating me in front of servants, but she didn’t mind doing it in front of strangers. It was how she’d treated Nori when she sailed her out of the kitchen. When I grew up I wouldn’t treat kids or servants that way. Not ever!
Hearing her argue with the tailor about my robes was no picnic either. But it took her less time doing it than she spent complaining about it to Mrs. Malfoy. He was her first target. She kept choosing new ones, pausing only when Lucius or his Mother took a turn.
Lime robed Medi-wizards passed our table, discussing port-key-sickness. My Mother talked about the nerve of a Mud-blood Witch joining the Directors’ Board at St. Mungo’s Hospital. Two Wizards sitting by a photo of last year’s Quidditch Cup Finalists clinked butter-beers, toasting a win next time. The players in the photo raised their broomsticks and grinned their thanks. Lucius complained to me about the school brooms assigned first year students. His mother ignored the brooms but started in on the school’s Headmaster.
“Among other things, Nocturna, Dumbledore wants all students to take at least one term of Muggle Studies.”
This was the best news since the waiter brought my cake. It wasn’t on my list. Must be a second year class. I looked at Lucius. What a lucky twit! Why hadn’t he told me? But his jaw was dangling open in surprise and he looked like he was about to cough up his cake.
“What a waste of time!” my Mother snorted. “Sirius would have gone to Dermstrang Institute if I’d thought for one moment that idiot was still going to be Headmaster this year. Everything was arranged at the Ministry for Dumbledore to be Minister of Magic. He could have been managed quite nicely there. Ridiculous man, with no respectable sense of ambition! Imagine, turning down the chance for a position like that! By the time I realized he was staying on at Hogwarts, Dermstrang’s openings had been filled for months.”
“Even under Dumbledore,” said Mrs. Malfoy. “Sirius is better off in Slytherin with Lucius. Their Head of House is always someone with proper values.”
Had this chair been comfortable once? After all these years it was hard as a rock!
“I suppose his notions are just part of the general decline these past years. But-” My Mother leaned across the table. “I am so pleased the balance is finally shifting. My husband was at the McNair’s two weeks ago and he actually met this magnificent Lord Voldemort we’ve been hearing so much about these past months. Brilliant mind, he said. His ideas will bring the power in the Wizarding world back into the right sort of hands. When he came home, he woke me up because he just had to tell me about him.”
Thrill. Now she’d put me to sleep because she had to tell Mrs. Malfoy about him! I looked at my plate. Why couldn’t the cake go on and on like she was about to? The five galleon coins in my pocket would rust with age before I got to spend them.
“He’s supposed to be quite a formidable wizard,” said Mrs. Malfoy. “A true Master of the Dark Arts, though I’m not sure yet who his connections are.”
“He’s of quite ancient Pureblood lineage, of that much I’m certain. And full of revolutionary ideas- oh, Sirius, sit properly! You’re slouching!” Under the table I heard the tap, tap of my Mother’s shoe before she took up her subject again. “-for restoring the old order with the pure old lines back in charge. None of these silly modern notions. Muggle Studies indeed!”
My Mother went silent. I sat straighter.
But she wasn’t looking at me. She was smiling and waving to a velvet robed Wizard coming through the door. Following her gaze, Mrs. Malfoy smiled, too. “Oh, you know Ivor Lastrange from the Ministry of Magic?”
“Of course! His son, who’s just out of Hogwarts plans to marry my niece Bellatrix when she finishes.”
“Mrs. Black! Mrs. Malfoy! How delightful!” He exclaimed as he approached our table.
That wasn’t the word I had in mind.
“These must be your sons!” his voice bounced off the walls. People in the corners looked our way. “Lucius, I hear you’re a credit to Slytherin! Nocturna, this isn’t your little Sirius? He’s not off to school already!” A hand came out and before I could duck the touch, patted me on the head.
“He is. But I wish he wasn’t starting under Dumbledore, that Muggle-loving dolt-”
I sighed. Did I have to hear it all again? I wanted to go explore Diagon Alley! I wanted to go quick- before I got patted on the head again or called Little Sirius! I wanted to go, to go, to go-
“But, you know, Nocturna,” Mrs. Malfoy turned to my Mother. “With the changes the Dark Lord plans to make, both our boys will soon be learning to wield their powers in a manner befitting those of us who know the full richness of dark Magic and- What on Earth is that racket?”
The teapot was floating an inch above the table, its blue china spout tapping on the nearest cup. Clear impatient taps!
A grin tugged at the corners of my mouth. I hadn’t planned it, but the pot was levitating! This was cool- amazing! It was-
“Sirius! Control yourself!”
The pot clunked onto the table. A brown splash of tea slid down one side. My Mother’s face went blotchy red. The air almost crackled with her rage.
Mr. Lastrange smiled. “You have a young Wizard to be proud of here, Nocturna! We’ll need talented lads like him and Lucius in these next few years to help bring back the old order…”
“But,” my Mother interrupted. “He knows better than to interrupt-”
“Boys will be boys!” said Mr. Lastrange. “I daresay they’re eager to stretch their legs.” He’d been booming again. Now his voice dropped. “And we can speak more freely without the children present.”
My chair scraped back. Those were the words that would keep my Mother from stopping my getaway. “Yeah, that’s right, Mr. Lastrange! Lucius was going to show me the… the…” I thought fast, even as I started for the door. “The banners for the House Quidditch teams at Hogwarts! Come on, Lucius, let’s go!”