Madness

Great-grandfather Arcturus was dead by the time I turned seven,popping my magically filled bubble life. The funeral was held at the Black family tomb at the back of ancestral lands where a huge estate was held with several different magical creatures being seen. I could hear magic adapted birds chipping across the huge lands communicating their wants to each other.

The people around me were talking at me instead of to me. I could tell the Black family had little care that their head of house was dead.

Walburga was already drunk on expensive wine and preaching to anyone who cared that the family estate would be going to their family. Orion Black was emotionally checked out and stoically standing at the back of the pack of Blacks, ignoring all attempts to communicate with him. The family was dressed in expensive Victorian looking black robes most likely only kept for funeral purposes. Narcissa and Andromeda both side glancing at each other with backs kept stiff and keeping up the etiquette required for pureblood ladies. Both ladies not seeing each other since Andromeda was disowned for marrying muggleborn Ted Tonks and having a half-blood daughter called Nymphadora with the shapeshifting gift of metamorphous. The tension between the two charged the energy around them and feeling their individual magic brushing over each other proved the funeral will be a long one. While all this is happening, I kept takimg big breaths so I would not snap at my horrible family members.

The olde rites consisted of burying of the body after several prayers of thanks to lady magic. It was also customary for those who the deceased left behind to sacrifice an animal in thedeceased’s honor. The family and I started the chants as well as the memorial sacrifice. I ended up being the only one who volunteered, and I sacrificed a sick elderly raven in Arcturus’ name. I cried as I used an athame to cut the throat of the bird and realized that the animal was the first living thing ,other than bugs, that I had killed in either of my lives.

The response from lady magic due to my sacrifice was the bird reanimating from the dead. The ravens’ eyes turned silver, which was usually seen in the Black family. The family ignored the bird, not seeing any use in having a small creature. But for me seeing this bird come back to life pulled my grief into the new direction of taking care of my new friend. I never knew how I had known, but a sliver of Arcturus’ soul was put into the raven to watch over me. Both Arcturus and his wife Melanie Black nee Macmillan choose to depart from the realm of the dead, wanting to be reincarnated. Having the raven as my new familiar warmed something in me that had started to feel broken. I named him Crescent, after the moon charts my great-grandfather use to show me while explaining the traditional holidays.

The will reading held after the reception is the last time, I will see my grandparents or great-aunt until their own funerals, which would all happen before I turned nine.

Arcturus’ will said that I am to inherit the bulk of his estate including the Blacks’ ancestral grounds.

The Black ancestors that are left are upset at their meagerinheritance. They don’t visit.

By the time I was nine, the woman who raised me in this new life, Pandora Lovegood nee Malfoy died through her experimentation on a new spell; I had also gone a little crazy through my grief.

Everyone who lived in catchpole after my aunt by marriage’sdeath went a little mad. My uncle dedicating more time towards his newspaper and magical creatures. He was always in his head either muttering about what he saw or humming little tunes as he wrote. Kreature had to pick up a lot of slack from not only taking care of me, but basically being the head of house (with my uncle in the state he was in). Luna had changed the most. She took after her father with her love of magical creatures from nargles to the crumple-horned snorkack. She seemed to talk to the Fae she saw more often and started following the wiccan faith of the moon. I on the other hand started to talk to the dead a lot more often; people would often find me talking to the air. I received the nickname Crazy Cassie and Luna received the name Loony.

Pureblood society did not know how to categorize me as a rich orphaned female with only a crazy uncle for protection and therefore, I was a prime target of which to take advantage. I had only two things protecting me from the rest of the elite wizarding-world in Britain. First, I was considered mad as well as part of two-family lines with known madness, people did not want that title to spread to their own family, and second, my betrothal, negotiated by Arcturus before his death, was to the Zabini heir.

Arcturus was born in a generation where the men took care of their females. He wanted to do the same for me before he died. My great-grandfather really truly loved me. He researched and found a dark family who were known for their care of the females of their line as well as raising up gentlemen. He offered a lot of money as my bride price as well as proxy for the Black family’s seat in the Wizengamot until I reached wizarding majority at the age of seventeen. The Zabini’s also were very good at killing people who were in their way. The Zabini’s were man eaters and he wanted them on my side.

From the moment the contract was signed, and a courting schedule was planned; Heir Blaise became almost obsessed with taking care of me, even if he lived far away in Italy and was only two years older than me. Every week I received a letter from Blaise detailing his life and asking me questions about me and my life. On almost every holiday, he sent a beautiful gift showcasing time and effort. For someone so far away he made sure to let me know that I was valued.

One passion I brought over from my last life was my love of crafting. The only difference was my love of adding magic to my creations.

I sent Blaise several small gifts through my inherited owl, an all-black eagle owl named Dorchadas, the Irish translation for darkness, from my great-grandfather. The owl was named by Arcturus to honor his wife’s first language. After his wife, Melanie Black nee Macmillan died from a long-term dragon pox, an invasive magical disease, Arcturus received a letter from his wife with the owl to keep him company until his own passing. I loved Dorchadas and his mischievous personality,who could be found stealing little treasures for me. Gifted from Luna, Blaise received a cork necklace on a twine string to “keep the nargles away”. I gifted Blaise a magical origami talisman of an animated dragon that brought luck through the ritual folding of the paper, made from special, aged magical Rowen trees.

Pandora learned how to create magical origami from a Japanese magic user who became her tutor as young girl. This tutor was a gift from her father Abraxas Malfoy and Pandora practiced until she became great at the art. Luna had no interest in the art of magical origami, leaving me as her successor.

Due to my protections, the rest of pureblood British society decided to take a “wait and see” approach to figure whether they could still use me or not. I became almost infamous, known for my heartbreak and madness at such a young age.

The tutors arranged by Arcturus before he passed changed throughout the years as Luna joined me, often learning what one needed before going to Hogwarts. Even though Luna was a year younger than me, and I had adult intelligence, she still caught up to what the tutors explained. Often the tutors left as they thought something was wrong with Luna and me.

It made something in me mourn for the broken people my family had become.

The anguish I experienced after the death of so many family members, so close together broke something in me. I felt more pain than I had in my entire first life. My eyes were always red,and my mind was always relating back to my memories oftrying to keep my family members alive. I put my heartbreak into my magic always trying to stop the negative emotions from overwhelming me. I learned to do this through my friends and family, with the realm of the dead pushing me forward.

One time when I was nine and a half, after my piano teacher had just left Catchpole in a tizzy because I interrupted the lessonwith a conversation with my Great-grandmother on the Lovegood side. I found my grief overwhelmed me, which focused my magic because of my strong emotions, and I would start bawling. My magic, in a fit of accidental magic, started a song through moving piano keys without my help, but transforming my feelings into sound. The tightness in my chest eased as the song completed and for just one moment, I was able to see the blessing of magic after so much misery in my second life.

I learned how to play the piano with my magic, and through expressing my feelings, I played music so often, it became natural.

My grief was like the Japanese art of Kintsugi, repairing broken pottery with gold lacquer. Instead of broken pottery, I was fixed,but not whole with my magic.

Grief transformed me. I was a happy kid whether having adult memories or not. I was excited to try magic for the very first time and I was ready to experience living in the wizarding world. Through the loss of family my demeaner changed into a solemn child who knew the harshness of life too quickly. I choose to focus on the gift of magic and all the people I still had left.