Chapter 20
TRADITIONS WERE IMPORTANT. They showed a person's belief, faith, heritage, history and culture. They also all but defined a person's pureblood heritage.
These beautiful customs were off two parts- the overall ones and the individual ones.
The overall ones were the foundation of pureblood manners and behaviours, from their way of greeting and address all the way to the rituals used in festivals and the types of balls they held. Meanwhile, individual traditions were the one that was especially unique to a pureblood family- like the Malfoy's with their heir travels and the Macmillian's with their duelling.
These individual traditions were special for they were crafted with love and care by their ancestors.
The Blacks had an abundance of traditions, like the fact that every member when they reach majority must invest in a business, or the boys in their family would receive a pocket watch when they turned seventeen while the girls received a charm bracelet.
As you can probably tell, seventeen -an arithmetically very strong number- was not just the year one became a magical adult (thus, having the trace on their wand removed, not that it ever stopped her from performing magic anyway) and could drink fire whiskey legally, it was also the year meant for completing all these traditions and customs.
Lyra was given her charm bracelet on the morning of her seventeenth birthday. She had been very much looking forward to it, having longingly stared at the bracelets adorning her mother's, Aunt Lucretia's, Aunt Dorea's, Aunt Cassiopeia's and even Bellatrix and Andromeda's wrists. So when her father presented one to her, she had hugged him tightly for the longest time.
The charm bracelets were traditionally given to the daughters by their fathers or the closest male relative after reaching the age of majority, and when given, the bracelet would have seventeen charms, each for a summer that they had seen.
Every charm was handmade by a designer in France and personally handcrafted just for them and there were no two alike. The father would pick out all the charms that he thought suited his daughter's personality or one where they had an inside joke on.
After being presented with the bracelet (that was enchanted with many hidden protection runes and wards), it was the girl's choice on what she wanted to do with it- she could either continue to add a charm every year until she died or just be content with those seventeen charms.
Lyra was quite sure she wanted to expand her bracelet as she grew older, but she couldn't help but feel touched by the time that her father must have taken to pick those charms, for each of them meant something to her. It seemed her father was extremely observant, and knew her better than she did herself.
Regarding the whole 'invest in a company' custom, Lyra knew exactly which company to invest in. She had, in fact, actually known which company she wanted to buy shares in ever since she was a young girl.
Even excluding that, as she was the eldest heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, she had to present a bill to the Wizengamot, a bill that she had been planning and preparing for, ever since the young age of nine and was due to submit it today, as required by the fourteen-day notice. Not counting today, she would have two weeks to prepare to present it in front of the Wizengamot and attempt to get it passed.
If, by any chance it didn't, she would be the only eldest child in nine generations who hadn't been able to get their bill passed as a law.
No pressure.
Not to mention, since from that day forth she could participate in a proper duelling contest, Grandmother Malania had been pleading for her to try out her former house, House Macmillian's, tradition of participating in the national level duelling tournament, at least for fun if not to win and had already volunteered her name for the National Dueling Tournament that would occur in late July.
And once again, considering the fact that she was the granddaughter of duelling legend and twelve-time tournament champion Malania Black nee Macmillian, the pressure on her was almost suffocating in a sense.
After all, every summer that she lived through, her Atlas burden only grew heavier. More responsibilities, more falseness, more pretending, more surviving, more pressure, more worrying, more hidden mental breakdowns, more, more, more.
But like always, she didn't let it show. She couldn't, it was a weakness she couldn't afford others to know.
Besides, those days seemed far away at the moment and if there was one thing she had learnt from her dear brothers, it was to enjoy today and look forward to tomorrow.
She was seventeen today.
Seventeen.
She could do so many things and the impulsive part of her desperately wanted to test the limits that the law would allow.
Her parents had paid no mind to expenses and had thrown her a party grander than most weddings.
Sirius, James and Regulus were creating pure havoc with Gideon and Fabian. Bellatrix -while pretending Andromeda didn't exist- was laughing with Molly about Merlin knew what. Andromeda, on the other hand, was having a pleasant conversation with Arthur and Ted over something called a 'rubber duck'.
Meanwhile, Narcissa had managed to drink a whole bottle of fire whiskey that Lyra's uncle Alphard had gifted her as a present, and had made herself drunk enough to snog Leonard Rowle in the middle of the dance floor and right in front of her father Cygnus, who had gripped the glass of red wine in his hand so hard that it shattered.
When they had been younger, Lucius had always succeeded in making her angry by teasingly calling her an 'old lady' and 'grandmother' until she had mastered the beheading curse; after which, he abruptly learnt to be more wary of her family's infamous madness and Lyra's legendary temper.
Now, however, she took great pleasure in playfully -and repeatedly- commenting that he was still a child while she was an adult ("Aah, I remember when I was a child." "Of course you do, it was eighteen hours ago" and "Lucius, just because you are a child does not mean you need to act childish and callow." "Lyra!").
It had all been fun and games until Lucius had snapped and snidely asked her if it made her a paedophile considering she was an 'adult' kissing a 'child'.
That was the first -and sadly not last- time Lyra had thrown a beheading curse in Lucius' direction (who had thankfully managed to dodge in a hairsbreadth).
But overall, the entire day had been perfectly lovely.
Grandfather Arcturus and Grandmother Malania boldly did the tango while dressed in purple pyjamas with moving snitches, courtesy of her amazing brothers and cousins.
They even had an extremely competitive quidditch match, one team led by Grandfather Pollux and the other by Grandmother Irma. What made the match even more interesting and entertaining to watch was the people who were playing on the teams and against who.
To oppose Walburga in team ebony (led by grandfather Pollux), was a smirking Alphard. The two were wearing determined expressions and their eyes held a bright glint that was a mixture of insanity and competitiveness. They were not going to let the other win, the consequences would be disastrous for them if they did. They would both never be able to live it down.
Similarly, Lord Crouch was glancing warily at team raven's Aunt Cassiopeia's grinning face; while Lucretia Prewett and Druella Black were glaring crucio's as they faced each other on opposite teams.
Abraxas Malfoy played against Henrik Yaxley, both of whom had a long-standing feud which began when Heiress Alessia Zabini dated both of them during their years at Hogwarts. At the same time.
It never failed to puzzle the Lords how their sons could be such good friends, but this was the day that they could take out their anger on each other. After all, both had been beaters on the Slytherin Quidditch team in their youth, and there was hardly any activity as satisfying as hitting a bludger onto your enemy's face with hopes of causing permanent damage.
Dorea Potter threw Cygnus Black a challenging look, one he mirrored. Charlus and James Potter cheered loudly for their wife and mother respectively in the background while Bellatrix and Narcissa echoed applauds and encouraging messages for their father and mother.
Cedrella Weasley, who had been disowned by her family for her marriage, grinned widely, lips twisting into a blend of a smile and a smirk as her most hated person, Lady Adeline Greengrass (who had dared to force kiss her darling Septimus while they were together) shivered slightly, wondering what on terra possessed her to agree to play the game.
All the children were exchanging bets and taunts while whistling and rooting for the team and people they supported. They also had the pleasure of learning multiple and never heard before cleverly constructed curses that day as well.
The Quidditch game ended up being a metaphorical and partially literal bloodbath.
Lyra can confidently admit that she had never been to a game that employed more methods of cheating as they did, nor had she attended a game so brutal and bloody. Even at the end, nobody could exactly tell you precisely who won the match that day (although each team would be quick to claim the title for themselves) but despite all the violence that had occurred, Lyra knew that they had all thoroughly enjoyed themselves.
Her family was weirdly amazing that way.
Her seventeenth birthday had been very special to her and everybody left with laughing smiles.
Perhaps the only person who scowled was her father who would randomly, abruptly walk up to and just stare at her before shaking his head mournfully and walking away, all the while muttering, "No. She's still a baby. She's still a child. Stop trying to convince me otherwise, brain, I won't let you."
Lyra offhandedly wondered if this was the first sign of her father's descent to their family's famed madness.
The night ended under the stars (obviously) and with fireworks lighting the dark sky up so brightly that it could have been mistaken for day.
The duelling where England's Annual Duelling Tournament was held was loud and filled with applauds as yet another winner was declared. Bets were exchanged as the unconscious body of the loser was revived, and it was announced that the victor was now eligible to compete in Round Two.
The announcer announced the next match: Tom Gale versus Lyra Black, which was scheduled to start in five minutes.
There were sixty duellers in attendance in total, meaning there would be thirty matches. It was actually rather hard to participate in such a famed and high-level tournament, and the only way to even have a chance to compete in it was to either buy your way in, be nominated by a highly respected individual in the duelling circles or pass through the twenty-five preliminary rounds.
Lyra got in through the second method (Grandmother Malania was the equivalent of duelling goddess in those circles), otherwise, she would have had to compete in a smaller not-so-famous tournament instead.
Lyra glanced at her grandmother with a half-sigh. "Any last-minute advice?"
"Do not tell anybody I told you this, but," Grandmother Malania paused, her lips curving into a smile as pride shined bright in her eyes as she looked at her granddaughter. "Hex his arse to hell and back."
"Inspiring," Lyra complimented, amused.
"Why, thank you," Grandmother Malania grinned before a serious expression painted itself over her face. "But honestly, do your best. It's okay if you don't win, I encouraged you to take part in this tournament not just because it is a tradition from my side of the family, but because I thought you'll genuinely enjoy yourself out there." She told her. "Don't stress yourself. Don't feel pressured. Just have fun, okay?" She asked with a supportive smile.
Lyra nodded, dimpling. "Okay," she said, but both of them knew that Lyra would still push herself to win and no matter what her grandmother said, she would still continue to feel pressured, and that was fine. She was used to it.
Lyra liked to think of herself as a diamond, which thrived under pressure.
After a hug and cheek kiss from her grandmother along with a sincere, "Do your best, good luck," Lyra composed herself and walked into the Arena.
The duelling arena was as big as the grounds of a quidditch match and even resembled the game in terms of structure and crowd.
Lyra's eyes immediately spotted her large family, occupying about a whole long row and looking very out of place with everybody else with their expensive robes and perfect posture. The Blacks, the Potters, the Prewetts, the two Weasleys, the Crouch's, the Longbottoms, the Lestranges, one odd Tonks and even the Malfoys (who had come mainly to support their future daughter-in-law) all held identical smirks when they met her eyes and Regulus waved while Sirius whistled (something he had learnt from Lord Potter). James, Fabian and Gideon were behaving like cheerleaders, chanting something inaudible for her to hear due to the distance and making out-of-context funny hand gestures and Sirius and Regulus looked to be convincing their cousins to start their own chant for Lyra to rival the others.
She laughed, dimpling at them before directing her concentration to be split between the announcer and her opponent as the latter analysed her as well.
Her opponent, according to the announcer's words, was a half-blood named Tom Gale, born of two muggle-born parents. He was thirty-six years old, but very lean, which made him quick.
Both of them were most likely evenly matched in speed, and couldn't overpower each other with strength. So, it would be the factors of creativity, strategy and power which would decide the winner.
Lyra would rather kill herself sooner than lose -publicly- to someone of his kind.
Tom Gale seemed to know that as well, as he threw her a sarcastic smile which she countered with a sickly sweet one.
The referee waved his wand over them, checking for runes or wards that had been engraved into their robes, which wasn't allowed. In professional duelling, they were only allowed plain dragon-hide robes, a wand holster and dragonhide boots, completely devoid of enchantments of any kind.
The announcer also simultaneously repeated the rules to them. No killing, no unforgivables, nothing dark, they were not allowed to bring anything into the arena with them nor were they allowed to summon anything from the outside.
Satisfied that nobody was applying any methods of cheating, the referee nodded his consent to begin the match, instructing them to bow to each other.
The bowing was symbolic, an acknowledgement of the opponent's powers and an appreciation of their courage. But how they bowed also showed the levels of respect they had for their opponent.
Lyra's respect for him was very little, and so she simply tilted her head. Tom Gale did the same. There was no love lost between the two of them. He had been discriminated against by people like her while she loathed the ignorance and blatant disrespect to their cultures and traditions by people like him.
The referee signalled them to take their preferred duelling stances.
Lyra positioned herself in a way that would enable her to dodge quickly and allow more movement before she raised her wand above her head, so she could both defend and offend easily. Her move would depend on his.
Tom Gale, however, mimicked her stance perfectly, down to the last movement and she instantly understood his strategy.
He was going to mirror her, placing them on an equal advantage scale. He was going to let her do the first move and reflect her spells back to her. It was a clever strategy for a mud blood.
Lyra smirked. This was going to be interesting.
The referee called the start of the match causing cheers and encouragements to erupt from the crowd, but none of the players in question moved an inch. He was waiting to see what she would do and she was busy observing him.
Lyra decided to test his defences and offences, so she could slowly decode him.
She fired a dummy curse -a tickling charm- to him, and he immediately dodged and flung the same thing back to her, to test her own defences, and Lyra simply dismissed it with a wave of her wand.
They got back to analysing each other.
Like she initially suspected, he was doing the exact same thing to her. He was seeing how she would react to the same thing she threw at him. He was using her methods against her and if his blood wasn't of such low quality, she would have declared them to be best friends.
Lyra threw another dummy curse, a bat-bogey jinx and he once again dodged and sent it back to her which, like before, she dismissed with a wave of her wand.
She realised that since he was dodging so much, she unfortunately still had no clue to his defensive skills.
She needed to change that.
Without changing her stance, she threw a shoe-tying jinx at him before quickly transfiguring the part of the cold stone stadium ground he was standing on into water.
Tom Gale successfully dodged her jinx, but lost his footing on the water and slipped, barely composing himself as he struggled to keep himself standing. And that was when Tom knew he couldn't mirror her anymore and when Lyra finally began the real duel.
In the time he took to compose himself, Lyra began enchanting his robes to slowly suffocate him. Blue in the face with wide eyes and coughing to gain air, Tom threw a bombarda in her direction, which she countered with a bombarda of her own, both spells meeting in the middle, colliding and exploding, causing dust to surround them and making it very hard to see for both the crowd and the players.
Lyra coughed, the sound giving away her position, but thankfully, Tom was busy doing the same to take note of it.
She pointed her wand to the sky, drawing runes and muttering enchantments under her breath to call upon the heavens to pour down on them.
Clouds gathered above them and rained, clearing the dust but drenching them.
"Thanks," Tom said with a smile.
"No problem," Lyra replied, then they both fired again.
Taking advantage of the fact that she had called down the rains, she ordered lightning to strike him repeatedly, causing him to struggle to dodge so he could avoid being electrocuted. After all, shield charms were nothing to lightning. But during the rare moments during which he didn't have to escape, he would throw a curse at her, to either stun or disarm her, causing her to have to maintain a shield as well.
Lyra could feel herself getting weaker every time she called down the lightning. Combine that with the fact that she had to simultaneously keep up a good shield to also protect herself from his attacks, she knew couldn't keep it up for long.
Besides, the rains were also falling on her, drenching her and making the already heavy dragonhide robes impossibly difficult to move around in. Merlin only knew how Tom Gale was doing it for so long.
It was also getting hard to see through the heavy rains, and more concerning, Lyra's hair was completely wet and she was having possibly the worst hair day in her life, but she doubted that was what she needed to worry about at the second.
She needed to end this. Soon.
Lyra moved her wand similarly to the motions needed to summon lightning, and if Tom Gale wasn't completely expecting her to call the powers of Thor, maybe he would have recognised that particular wand motions she was executing.
Tom Gale got ready to dodge again, his pattern becoming visible to her, and Lyra got ready to throw her spell. Predicting approximately where he was going to land, she fired her curse.
"Eviscero viscera!" A poisonous purple beam of light escaped her wand and hit Tom Gale right in his chest, making his eyes widen and a swear to slip his mouth before collapsing on the floor. The blood pouring out from him mixed with the water left by the rains.
Lyra finally banished the storm above them and it was then that she could once again hear the commentary being done by the announcer as well as the standing ovation and cheers by the crowd.
A satisfied smile graced Lyra's face.
"- won by the entrail expelling curse! Healers, please attend to Tom Gale, and congratulations Lyra Black for winning your first match!" More cheers broke out and a satisfied, victorious smirk graced Lyra's face. "She's the granddaughter of the great Malania, so of course, we expected nothing less than a beautiful match and we got it!"
Her smile grew slightly smaller at being compared. Don't get her wrong, being compared to somebody as amazing as her grandmother was a high honour; but it was just that whatever she did, she was always being compared to her family.
Professor Slughorn who would praise her potion skills and recollect how Dorea Black was a prodigy as well, Professor Sprout who would say that she got her green thumb from her grandmother Irma, all those who had told her that her diplomatic skills were like her grandfather Arcturus', her argumentative debates were as cleverly constructed as her grandfather Pollux's, her arithmancy skills which she had apparently inherited from her dear mother and her business skills from her father. Even her receiving the position of Silver Ruler had been compared to her uncle Alphard!
She knew they did it unknowingly, without really thinking and that it was meant to be taken as a compliment.
Lyra loved her family and was extremely proud of them for being considered experts and masters in their respective fields, but for once, she would like to do something entirely unique to her. Something, if she did wrong, that would not lead anybody to ask "Are you sure you are related to this person?" in case she -Merlin forbid- was anything less than perfect. Something that nobody could compare her to. Hence, why she had decided to become a healer, something that had never been done before in her family.
But, one did not show weakness to an arena filled with people who could take advantage of it, so she plastered the smile on her face and bowed in thanks as the announcer said she was qualified for Round Two and reminded her the date it would take place before announcing the next match.
Lyra made her way to the crowd, receiving congratulatory messages along the way, and was immediately tackled into a hug by her brothers. After many hugs, kisses, "I knew you would win"s, "Good job"s, and a rather tearful embrace by her grandmother Malania, Lyra finally made her way to Lucius, receiving messages of congratulations from his parents.
"So," Lyra said.
"Are you alright?" Lucius immediately asked, taking his wand out and drying her clothes with a wave, something she realised that she had forgotten to do due to all the excitement and cheers.
"Yes," Lyra nodded, smiling at his concern for her. "What did you think?"
"I cannot believe you would throw a beheading curse at me and not at the half-blood," Lucius said, removing the scarf he was wearing and wrapping it around her, just in case she still felt cold.
"Well, the tournament rules does say not to kill anybody," Lyra replied, but Lucius waved away her comments.
"How unfortunate."
"Completely."
A small smile painted itself onto his face. "Must I tell you how well you duelled?"
"Of course, I do need an ego boost after all."
Lucius scoffed. "Trust me when I say that you are the last person on this planet who needs an ego boost." He told her dryly.
Lyra stared at his face, waiting patiently, and sure enough, Lucius gave in. "Oh alright. Dear Lyra, you were an avenging goddess descended straight from hell."
Lyra tilted her head. "Hell?"
"Yes, for all the times you have called me adorable, you surely are going to hell after death." Lucius declared before adding, "I'll join you there, of course."
"And...?"
"Your spells work was an art worthy of Michelangelo, your creativity is the kind of legend historians would gush over, your-"
Lucius continued to praise her (however much he had exaggerated in his words), even when she had told him to stop, and when he finally did, he raised an eyebrow with a silent request to ask her to say something.
But Lyra just smiled, shaking her head fondly and kissing his cheek. "You are adorable, Heir Malfoy, and anything everything you do only serves to solidify my opinion." She declared, dimples and all.