Have Seen a Great Light
Detective Wright pursed his lips in a frown as the officers corralled the crowd away from scene. The request for his presence had been accompanied by order to block off the entire area within one block of the intersection in each direction for the rest of the day and overnight. The accident didn’t warrant that in his opinion. A woman, probably in her mid-20s, lay in the middle of the street, looking unremarkable even in the heinous heap of her tangled limbs. As if the indentation in her skull, her caved-in sternum, and fixed pupils didn’t convince the officers of her death, an ambulance was called so a low-level emergency response technician could confirm she had no pulse, begin CPR that was as gross as it was hopeless, and wait for physician’s orders to stop. She lay some 10 meters away from the bus that hit her and which was still stalled in the crosswalk; she had to have been hit hard. The bus driver said she appeared out of nowhere and that he’d had no time to react. She wasn’t crossing the street as he approached the intersection, and she hadn’t rushed out from the sidewalk. She literally appeared out of thin air. These were all pretty standard statements for drivers who hit and killed pedestrians.
Wright was called because the officers reporting the accident said something about explosives. One had been nearby, exiting a coffee shop with a hot drink just in time to see the collision. The woman was thrown up in the air with her head whiplashed in an unnatural position. She seemed to hang in flight, and a disk of crystal blue light exploded from her and passed violently across the whole square. People were knocked over and scrambled for shelter as all the windows facing the intersection shattered. Her body then crashed to the ground unmoving, and the crowd’s panic quickly morphed into fascination.
Before arriving on scene, Wright assumed they were exaggerating. When questioned, the officer who saw it revealed he was on the tail end of a busy 24-hour shift, and none of the people in the intersection could fully describe the sequence of events. All signs would have pointed to a run-of-the-mill suicide, except that all the windows were indeed blown out and shards of glass littered the sidewalks. Even this failed to rouse him as he watched the ogling crowd swell and dwindle. Even the long stick sheathed in her sleeve, the unidentifiable currency in her pocket, and her lack of identification did little to pique his interest. Things like this were more common than the public believed, and he knew they would forget the event quickly. They always did. There were no leads to follow up on regarding the broken windows, and few months of half-hearted investigation yielded no clues about the woman. He closed the case without fanfare shortly thereafter.
**
“I’m pregnant.” Andromeda’s timid voice interrupted the sisters’ banter over tea. Spoons ceased clinking against their mugs.
“Your jokes aren’t funny.” Bellatrix tried to sound annoyed but wouldn’t lift her gaze from her tea.
“I’m not joking. I found out two weeks ago.” More silence. Narcissa, normally so composed, squirmed in her seat. “Ted and I are engaged.”
“Oh my god, Andy.” Bellatrix now pressed her fingers into the middle of her forehead.
“The wedding will be soon so that mother and father can’t – “
“You won’t. You know this can’t happen.” Narcissa was irritated.
“I can, and I will.”
“Andy, this is madness.” Bella finally looked at her middle sister with a desperate concern.
“It’s madness to put up with Father’s shit about pureblood supremacy. It’s madness to suffer Riddle’s presence and the lies he’s feeding us.”
“Father won’t let you. He will make it miserable for you, and for us too, I bet.” The blonde girl, just finished with her fifth year at Hogwarts, felt a fear that was not yet routine for her but would become so in a short time. “He might do anything to you.”
“I can handle him.”
“He might kill you.”
“He’s not that far gone.”
“He is, though. Andy, please don’t do this.” Their oldest sister was begging, something Narcissa had never seen her do. “This will change everything. There’s no going back if you do.”
“I don’t want to go back, Bella.”
The dark-haired young woman flinched as if she’d been slapped. “Just wait. Just think a little more about it before you do something you can’t undo. Please. For us. For me.”
Andromeda gazed at her older sister with an emotion that Narcissa couldn’t place.
The blonde woman tossed in her sleep, unconsciously reaching for the glass of water by her bed. She was burning with shivers.
Father was standing with the newly self-styled Dark Lord at the end of the conference table in Grimmauld Place. Their heads were together, framed by the tapestry of the family tree. His wife, sister, and brother-in-law sat near them wearing ugly, smug satisfaction. Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa were all seated at the other end of the table, bored but on edge. They were always on edge in Grimmauld Place. Bellatrix said it was because she could see the magic circling between Andromeda and its walls; Narcissa couldn’t see it but noted that her middle sister always ground her teeth when visiting the house, a habit she didn’t exhibit elsewhere.
“Andromeda, come here.” Their father’s voice boomed.
Their middle sister stood hesitantly and made her way around the table, stopping a little too far away from him to be considered obedient. “Yes, father?”
“Lord Voldemort and I have made an important arrangement that will be strategic for the family’s power status and for our cause.” He paused for effect. “You will marry Alaric Selwyn at the end of the summer.”
Druella and Walburga looked particularly pleased. The Dark Lord peered at the auburn-haired young woman closely. Her jaw clenched and unclenched, her lips forming words that did not come out. Narcissa and Bellatrix coiled their muscles with the greatest hope of their lives – that she would not protest. But Andromeda did not show any sign acquiescing.
“Bella, she’s going to ruin it.” Narcissa whispered.
“No, she won’t. She’s ok.” Her oldest sister did not look as confident as her words sounded.
“Bella, it’s happening.”
“No, it’s not.” The dark-haired witch’s denial was palpable.
Andromeda took a deep breath before blurting out, “I can’t!” A collective sucking in of breath passed around the room. “I’m engaged.”
Narcissa clenched her eldest sister’s forearm in fear and desperation, and Bellatrix went pale.
It was Walburga who asked it. “Engaged? To whom exactly, dear niece?”
“Edward Tonks. From school.” It was the most confident she ever remembered her sister sounding.
“Tonks. I don’t know that name. Sounds like a mudblood.” Walburga snapped her head toward the sisters. “Narcissa. Is Tonks a mudblood?”
She swallowed and nodded, her fingernails digging into Bellatrix’ skin.
Spittle sprinkled the shocked faces of the family members near their father when he roared. "You! You! Good for nothing cunt. Druella, deal with him at once.”
“I’m going to marry him. I’m pregnant.”
“Fucking cunt whoring yourself out to a mudblood! You continue to be a waste of Black blood. No more.” He withdrew his wand.
Narcissa began to panic. “Bella, he’s going to kill her!”
Andromeda raised her wand to block a curse as she stumbled backward. Another curse and another. The other occupants of the room began ducking to avoid stray unforgivables.
“Bella, you have to do something! He’s going to kill her!” Indeed, there were now killing curses punctuating the air.
Andromeda was almost to the door, ragged with cursed wounds, when Bellatrix threw her chair back and leapt onto the table, intercepting the spells in flight and sucking them into the tip of her wand. She slashed her wand at her father, slamming his body like a ragdoll into the tapestry behind him where he slumped bleeding from the back of the head. Then she turned toward Andromeda and with no hesitation cast a bombarda maxima that propelled her out of the room and exploded the stone wall into flying chunks that barricaded the door with rubble. At first, Narcissa thought she heard screaming, but a chill descended on her when she realized it was her dark-haired sister laughing as she hexed everyone in the room who drew their wands against her. Plates and family heirloom wine glasses shattered against the floor, chairs, flesh, and portraits whose occupants ducked for cover. When Bellatrix reached the tapestry, she wound up her arm and delivered an incendio at Andromeda’s name; the auburn-haired sister’s ever-stunning portrait went up in flames that left a black mark on the ceiling.
The dark witch hoisted their father up by the hair to look at her handiwork. “No need to kill her, father. She’s not even part of the family.”
When she dropped him, his mouth smeared the tapestry with blood. Facing the rest of the room’s dumbfounded occupants, she wiped her hand on the old tablecloth and giggled.
Narcissa tossed again in her lonely bed in the empty Black Manor, not yet aware of her company.
Against her better judgment, she followed her eldest sister to the room where their mother said Dark Lord was waiting for her. If Bellatrix knew she was being followed, she gave no indication. She wore an impassible face that Narcissa felt herself mimicking as she settled into shadows just outside the strip of light allowed by a door neither her sister nor the Dark Lord closed.
“Bellatrixxx….” His voice hissed. “I’m delighted you’ve come.”
“Mother said you wanted to see me.” Bellatrix was facing the door so Narcissa could see that she still betrayed no emotion.
“You resent me.” Apparently, the Dark Lord saw more than she did, though she wasn’t surprised at the assessment.
“I don’t,” was the curt reply.
A chuckle bubbled from his throat, but Narcissa had a feeling that his face did not match the sound. “I find you inspiring, Bella.” She recoiled at his use of her nickname, but Bellatrix still did not react.
He continued. “Your ardor for your family’s honor the other day in the tapestry room was the most impressive display of character and power that I have seen in years. Anyone who could garner your support would be far better for it, and woe to anyone whom you make your enemy.”
“Is that what you’re asking for? My support?”
“Your allegiance, Bella. You are the primary heir to arguably the most formidable lineage in Europe.”
“My father has already made his loyalties clear.”
“Your father is an idiot!” The Dark Lord shouted. Both sisters jumped, Bellatrix’ impassivity broken. “I want you. You are the perfect heir to the Black family magic. You are the strongest witch or wizard in the family in centuries.”
“That’s not true.”
Narcissa could see a long-fingered hand waving dismissively at her sister. “Yes, I know about Andromeda. But she wants to be weak, so she is weak. She will never be as strong as you, because as a person, you are unmatched in dominance and control, and you take pleasure in who you are.”
“Your cause does not attract me.”
“It doesn’t have to. You thrive in battle. You exude bloodlust. You came alive in the tapestry room in a way you don’t in other situations. You don’t have to care about the cause, but I can give you a world where you can come alive like that every day.”
“That doesn’t change anything.” Bellatrix sounded tough, but her high chin began to droop. Narcissa knew she was starting to crack. So did the Dark Lord.
His magic boomed out from him like a tidal wave, forcing Bellatrix to her knees. “Bella, I don’t want to have to force you. I would much rather make a deal with you. It’s really beside the point, but mudbloods and blood traitors are going to have to die for us to have our way – especially ones that have tainted the magic of the Sacred 28. Really, Andromeda and her new family should be at the very top of the list, but I would be willing to make an exception if you were the first to swear your allegiance to me. I’d even be willing to grant her my protection.”
The woman’s shoulders and neck slumped forward. She was quiet a long while before she spoke. “If you make the unbreakable vow - “
“Perfect.” He did not let her finish. “Narcissa! Would you please come in and do the honors?”
Embarrassed and afraid, she did as she was asked. She willed Bellatrix to look at her, but her sister hid behind the dark ringlets cascading around her shoulders.
“Your arm, please.” The Dark Lord turned the witch’s wrist and pressed the glowing tip of his wand forcefully into her forearm’s soft flesh. The pain made Bellatrix try to jerk away, but he kept a firm grip on her until the boiling ink spreading from his wand sank into her skin and began to cool.
Narcissa felt tears on her face as her beautiful, unbending sister let her arm fall unheeded to her side, marred by the very first dark mark tattoo still belching steam into the air.
Narcissa woke with a start. She blinked several times at the ceiling, trying to let the memories dissipate into the air.
“I know you’re here,” she said aloud.
“I figured as much. You’ve always been perceptive.”
“You’re late.”
“A few minutes early, actually, but let’s not split hairs.”
The blonde woman didn’t look around to locate the voice. “Was it always going to happen like this? Were we going to end up like this no matter what?”
Death let out a gentle sigh. “Who do you mean by ‘we’? The Black family? You and your sisters? The people you loved?”
“I don’t know.” She paused. “But you didn’t answer my question.”
“I find the Fates rather untrustworthy, so I try not to know their opinion on anything.”
Another pause. “Did my sisters hurt when you took them?”
“It hurt me, if that helps.”
She stuffed down a hundred more things she wanted to ask. “I suppose it’s time.”
“I suppose so.”
Death stepped out of the shadows and offered an arm to help Narcissa Black Malfoy to her feet. Then the last pureblood descendant of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black raised her chin, steeled her blue eyes, and let Death wrap his cloak around her.
**
When Edward Tonks II entered the Wizengamot on his 17th birthday, over half of those in attendance rose to their feet and stood at attention until he rested his back against the Black family crest and nodded for the Chief Warlock to continue the proceedings. The Black, Lestrange, Malfoy, Potter, Lupin, and Weasley estates were joined by the Greengrass inheritance as properties under Tonks’ direct ownership, followed by more in his later years. He visited the Black Manor exactly once to place it and Grimmauld Place under the care of the family’s elves indefinitely. While he was there, he placed a portrait of his mother over the mantle, only staying long enough to let the golden mist the Manor suddenly poured forth make his skin and hair slick. He never returned.
When he died, the muggleborn wizard who married his daughter took her last name and gave the family a reputation for heavy-handed business negotiations; they lived in muggle London and commuted daily to the Ministry to mediate business deals that straddled the public and private sectors of Wizarding Britain.
Their twin sons invested heavily in muggle artificial intelligence but elected to pass the Wizengamot seat and primary inheritance to their younger brother. He became the leading benefactor of all the major wizarding schools and muggle universities in northern Europe in exchange for special sway over their educational content.
His only daughter pioneered mass production of a variety of enchanted muggle weaponry, using the revenue to turn the Black Manor into a university equivalent to Hogwarts for muggleborns whose magic wasn’t identified until adulthood. She also endowed the largest initiative to date to improve and inform wizarding Britain with the latest and continuous advancements in muggle scientific research and its implications for manipulating magic.
Her oldest child was the first to venture back into Grimmauld Place, and they were so fascinated by the endlessly curious and powerful items found in the building that they established a private equivalent to the Department of Mysteries. Although the artefact division of the program would grow to an international scope and include mysteries from as far away as the southernmost tip of the Americas, the very first catalogued item was a tattered shred of crispy canvas found in the dark recesses of Grimmauld Place. It contained wrinkled ink depicting the legendary Death Eater Dark Mark – probably the only original from the Second Wizarding War still in existence. Graffitied Dark Marks still cropped up every now and then, but for the most part no one took the symbol seriously anymore, which is of course why the piece was so fascinating. Another notable piece was anonymous donation to the corporation: a weathered muggle icon of a beautiful, auburn-haired woman cupping a handful of purple and yellow stars. It was entitled “St. Andrea,” and on the back was scribbled “those living in darkness have seen a great light.” No one ever confirmed its magical properties, but the icon’s ability to pierce viewers in the intersection of their materiality and immateriality secured its place in the exhibit for a long time.
They named their three daughters after the Fates, whom they assumed were depicted in one of the family heirloom portraits of a brown-haired woman with blazing eyes flanked intimately by two other women, one with black hair and one blonde. The elves at Grimmauld Place had been overly protective of the portrait, but the only one who seemed to know anything about it was too old and weak to communicate. The oldest daughter disappeared in her early 30s and was never heard from again; the middle daughter filled her Wizengamot seat and was appointed Chief Warlock. The youngest ran an international syndicate of wealthy muggles that became the family’s most lucrative investment after that.
Otherwise, the family operated out of the public eye most of the time, rarely causing media stir. None of the Black family vassals ever challenged the issue of their position with the Tonks’, though Gringotts continued to execute the families’ financial actions under the old vassalage constraints and the Tonks’ always garnered uncommon support in surreptitious conflicts or clandestine negotiations. There came a time when no one spoke of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black anymore outside of drunken oral folklore and dusty accounts of wizarding war history. The idea of ancient, pureblood family magic became widely regarded as archaic fantasy invented by people with insufficient scientific knowledge to explain natural phenomena and to make them feel better about themselves. This belief, of course, did not change the fact that the Tonks’ social, political, and magical power remained undeniable even as it grew to be unacknowledged. Their presence was inescapable in every tiny strand of the wizarding world, so much so that it became more taken for granted than the existence of wizarding Britain itself. Eventually, the only ones who continued to be consciously perplexed by the Tonks’ were the healers who performed the family’s final medical examinations upon their deaths. With each family member that passed, the examiner added the same notation to the family medical record as the last:
“Large tattoo across top third of patient’s chest in ornate script reads ‘Toujours Pur.’”