Narcissa I
The door opened as silently as it had when Narcissa had first snuck up to the nursery. The only difference was the lack of whispered bickering at her back. Narcissa kept snapping her head back, expecting to see the dark figures of her sisters and only seeing the empty hallways. Her heart caught in her throat every time even despite her reasoning that nobody should be following her.
She shook off the lingering feeling that she was being watched, so trivial compared to the distant shouts of her parents. Narcissa wished that her Aunt Walburga was around, for once. Her Aunt was a force to be reckoned with, even being heavily pregnant and thoroughly exhausted, but Father would never dare raise his voice in front of her - or at her, Merlin forbid. The last time he had, Aunt Walburga had thrashed him so soundly that even Bellatrix had been struck silent.
A slight smile slipped onto her face unwittingly as Narcissa let the door close behind her. The faint sounds of arguing which had been slowly fading as she moved through the house finally ended, unable to pierce through the heavy wood of the door. If Narcissa listened hard enough, she could hear the slight murmur of it reaching the nursery, but it was nothing compared to the blaring siren it had been earlier.
“Hello,” Narcissa whispered to her new sister. She tried to not slump against the door is sheer relief - Blacks don’t slump, girl, Aunt Cassiopeia shrieked in her head, stand up straight before I take the rod to you - and managed to merely lean against the wood.
Her new sister, Ursa, didn’t so much make a squeak. Narcissa remembered their secret excursion to the nursery a day ago and how her sister had been so quiet, barely rustling the air. She had smiled well enough and if she thought hard enough, Narcissa could even remember the vague imprint of laughter against her memory.
Although, Bellatrix said that babies didn’t speak so much as scream, so maybe that was it. Bella was usually right about these things.
“You’re so quiet .” Narcissa was surprised at the unbidden disdain in her tone. “Mother’s worried about you and Father says your strong enough, but you never do anything . That’s the only way to get strength, Bella says.”
Or, Aunt Cassiopeia says .
The haunting memories of her great-aunt still lingered in her mind. Bellatrix had warmed to her like a moth to a flame and Andromeda had hidden in the secret passageway between the painting of Sirius I and Phineas Nigellus whenever she came over. It was fortunate that her visits were sparse and her brief attentions were lavished onto Bella, who accepted it happily. It didn’t stop her barking threats at Narcissa from across the sitting room whenever she slid by, though.
Brushing the thought of her great-aunt out of her mind - Occlumency, Mother explained gently, is the art of guarding your mind - Narcissa returned her attention to the baby in the crib. The sides of it were made of solid wood and she had to stand on her tip-toes to get a good look at Ursa. It was plastered with golden engravings that formed constellations and the walls spun with the Black family tapestries.
Narcissa sighed as she peered her sister, dark curls springing from her head. Ursa’s eyes were beginning to darken from the baby-blue shade she was born with but Bellatrix had her sights set on a silver-grey. It was tempting to run her hands through the blossoming curls yet Narcissa dare not reach her hand in again, not without her sisters or her mother around.
The way the magic had shot up her arm was almost unnatural, two opposite forces colliding. She held herself lucky that it wasn’t on purpose. Even the thought of having the full force of somebody else’s magic ram into your own made her shudder. Narcissa wondered if that was how people got knocked back in magical duels - the stunning spell kept people in place and whilst a powerful expelliarmus could push somebody back, it was only a few yards at most.
“Mother and Father are fighting, again.” She started with no great excitement. “Andy sent me up here because they were getting violent.” Narcissa paused, continuing on in a near whisper. “I think Father was drinking.”
Mother had always said that being honest with your family was the way to an easier life but her father’s drinking was always, always a taboo subject. Bellatrix had brought it up once in a casual conversation, “ Is father drinking tonight? ” and been rewarded with a glare that so vicious it rivalled Aunt Walburga’s. Since then, the sisters hadn’t dared mention it, even in their own company.
Ursa looked up at her, squirming in the blue silken blankets that were neatly embroidered. Narcissa offered her a thin smile and resisted the urge to run a hand through her hair. The thought of experiencing another jolt made her nauseous.
“It’s better with you, I think.” Narcissa’s smile began to strain on her face. “Father was so sad when little Rigel had to go away but since you didn’t have to, he’s happy. That’s a good thing, Ursa, you’re a good thing.”
Her baby sister made a quiet noise that Narcissa couldn’t put her finger on but it cheered her mood nonetheless. She could barely remember Rigel, apart from a tuft of blonde hair like her own and blue-turning-brown eyes that her mother had fussed over. Then, one day, her mother had told her that he wouldn’t come back and his name was never mentioned again.
Narcissa had asked Bellatrix and for once, the older girl had hesitated. Her oldest sister was all sharp edges and broken glass, spiting rebuttals at her minute complaints on the regular. But her sister had taken her hand in a tight grip and told her that Narcissa had been a difficult baby for their mother to handle, especially during the small dragon-pox outbreak, and that it had made it harder for other potential babies to be born.
Then, she had gone to her mother with the information, still curious even though she felt she shouldn’t be. Narcissa hadn’t understood, still didn’t, really but Mother had told her that it wasn’t her fault, that sometimes circumstance is a horrible thing. Which had her demanding the meaning of circumstance out of the nearest house-elf.
“Missus Narcissa?” A squeak voice like an unoiled door hinge screeched behind her.
Narcissa smothered a flinch resolutely - Ha, do you see that, Andy? She jumped! - before turning towards the house-elf. All of the housebound ones kept to themselves, sequestered in an abandoned corner of the manor and out of sight but the few that were allowed to roam - roam being a very generous word for seen - made themselves scarce in the presence of a witch or wizard of the house.
“What are you doing here?” Narcissa asked haughtily, ignoring the little voice in the back of her head that told her to be nicer. It was far overshadowed by the part that wondered if the elf had been sent to bring her back down and this time, there was no Aunt Rosetta to cover for her.
The elf rung its hands together, looking up at her with round, bulbous eyes. Its pillowcase was embroidered with faded suns and stars and stained with strange substances. “Mistress Druella a-asks Missi to check on the little miss every few hours.” The elf stuttered out. “Missi was just checking quickly, Miss Narcissa, and giving the little miss a check over. Missi will be going soon-”
“Isn’t she better now?” She furrowed her brows, turning back to where her sister stared up with curious eyes. “Rosetta says she’s better now.”
“The-the Lady Rosetta is very not-skilled in the healing arts.” It twisted its hands in its pillowcase, large ears flopping so pathetically that Narcissa felt an unwelcome stir of sympathy. “Miss Ursa m-might be out of danger but even Missi can’t tell if it might wors-worsen. S-so, Mistress asks Missi to check.”
Narcissa pursed her lips and the elf began to quiver in truth now. She dismissed the pang of pity with a mental wave of her hand - behind closed doors, in boxes, hidden away from prying eyes - and turned her back to the house-elf in a dismissive gesture.
She couldn’t see behind her, but she was sure the creature had stopped its pathetic trembling when she lost eye contact.
( Gifted, in the mind arts, a repayment if you will- )
“Alright.” Narcissa huffed, fingers settled on the crib, feeling rather out of place. “But don’t tell anyone I was here.”
The house-elf stuttered an agreement and the world hummed.
Her sight was awash with foreign magical energy that made her toes tingle and her eyes blink back tears before shuddering into its usual stillness. In a slight moment, not even enough for her to blink, the world had been full of such power that she had never fathomed existed. She looked to the shaking elf, who for all their trembling stood sturdy on two feet as her magic fluttered, unused to the powerful magic that house-elves were brimming with.
“What was that?” She all but demanded. Ursa hadn’t changed, as if the world had gone by normal, still staring up at Narcissa was wide eyes that were growing more and more interested by the minute.
“‘Twas elven magics, Missus Narcissa,” The house-elf said, almost proudly. The sight rubbed her the wrong way.“M-Mistress Druella says you be more sensitive to magics. Missi meant not to upset you-”
Narcissa tightened her grip on the crib. “Go away!”
There was only a light snap as the house-elf left without a word.
She watched the elf go with a sense of deep regret that was quickly squashed beneath her hurt pride as she seethed over the sudden and unwelcome surprise.
Ursa was still gazing at her with wide, open eyes that made a thin smile stretch across her lips. It was tempered by the events of the day, but her sister was still so innocent, unaware of her sisters’ troubles or their parent’s problems. It was yet bizarre that she was as silent as the grave, but Narcissa supposed there had to be concessions made.
“Bella says it’s weird I can sense that,” Narcissa admitted to the baby quietly, feeling rather stupid. Her sister would neither hear nor understand, but perhaps that was what she needed. “And I heard Father say it was a ‘by-product’ of something and Mother keeps getting angry at him for keeping it a secret because I keep reaching into other peoples minds accidentally. Maybe you’ll be a natural Occlumens to battle my natural Legilimency.”
“Mother tries to teach me.” She sighed against the wooden crib, feeling oddly out-of-place. “But she’s not very good and Father was only the second son of the secondary line, he was never taught advanced mind arts. They both agree that I need a proper tutor, befitting of my birth, but neither of them agrees on how I should get one.”
Ursa babbled up at her.
“They are stupid.” Narcissa agreed distantly, even though she wasn’t sure that was what the baby had said. “Do you think they’ve stopped yet? I can’t hear anything.”
The world seemed to hold still, soundless but for the soft shifting of Ursa and Narcissa’s light breathing. No wind swept through and no words were spoken.
“Maybe I’ll stay. I don’t have to go right now.” Narcissa pulled away from the crib, missing Ursa’s disappointed look as she pulled away, clambering up onto an ornately decorated chair. Painted in green and gold, it wasn’t comfortable in the slightest. Narcissa shifted to make herself just a bit more comfortable.
“Do you want to hear a story?” She asked nobody in particular as she pulled The Beedle and the Bard off the shelf beside her. Narcissa flicked through the pages, reaching the first story with a nostalgic smile. “There was once a kindly old wizard who used his magic generously…”