HP: Spirit Talker

Andromeda, as a wise woman and mother, was wise enough to ignore the simple fact that the old and ancient magical clans had more curious methods of surveillance and observation than was known in Aurorat, and that they taught their children well, and was happy for her clever daughter, praising her for her diligence and hard work in her studies. Andromeda wasn't afraid of being watched from the street; she had always been excellent with runes and spells, so it made sense to take time to create a powerful barrier.

Besides, the woman was still in the process of slow self-education, so for now the protection of the cottage and the farm would only let a stranger through the Patronus, and even then it would not be possible to track them through it — that is, if someone unearthed one of the oldest and most protected methods of surveillance that (information about this modification) was trying to destroy, if not all of them, then most of them.

But Andromeda had just as wisely not told her daughter about the level of security at home, simply because her daughter had been influenced by Moody's radical ideas and Dumbledore's idea of the 'greater good'. To put it bluntly, the woman could no longer fully trust her daughter, not after her education at Hogwarts, where the Headmaster and Deans had every opportunity to thoroughly brainwash any child. Without the powerful gift of metamorphosis, Nymphadora would have remained an uninteresting, "average" witch, because her mother had been "banished" from the family, meaning that she would have no money, no influence, and no gift to gain from the union with them, or even worse — to be tainted by the association with the "Mudbloods" and "Blood Traitors".

When her girl was noticed by not the last people in Magical Britain, the woman fought herself for a long time not to run away, only the realization that it would be worse abroad stopped her. The fact that her daughter could be a willing, even unknowing, spy in her own family was something Andromeda Black-Tonks simply had to face.

She had hoped that Nymphadora, working as an Auror, would see the whole unpleasant underside of the "fairy tale", that the speeches of the "wise mentors" would lose their sharpness, and then her mother would be able to restore her daughter's common sense and tell her everything she had been forced to keep silent about for so many years. Now the situation had turned upside down, and to keep silent would be to put her daughter in the hands of people with strange views and ideas, and to turn her into a "dark spawn of a cursed family" forever.

The young girl and the young-looking woman walked up the three steps and into the house. No one thought to take off their shoes: the spells on the front door had cleaned the shoes and clothes of any dirt, and the robes had dried slightly from the moisture of the mist. The girl immediately turned to her mother, expecting her to continue the conversation, but she silently went into the kitchen to make tea.

Nymphadora sat down in an old leather chair, sniffling unhappily: since childhood she had understood the repeated words "tea doesn't like to be made in a hurry", and if her mother started to make it, she had to put up with it, otherwise... — the girl grinned and squirmed unhappily — the memories of the strap on the tender girl's ass had not had time to wash out of her violent mind. The woman returned with a large tray, which, as always, contained everything necessary for a thorough drinking of this "ritual" beverage.

The girl took her cup, waited for her mother to fill it with the fragrant drink from a very beautiful teapot, and added a little milk for herself. For a few minutes no one broke the silence, during which time the hot Hufflepuff girl calmed down a bit, her passions began to take on a more meaningful form, and new, more intelligent questions arose, the answers to which became no less interesting than her mother's alleged involvement in the illegal conspiracy.

— Well, my daughter, you have grown up enough and can control yourself enough to be considered an adult. — Andromeda shook her head, carefully imitating Walburga, even trying to show something with her face... something like that, but it didn't work very well. — Ask your questions.

— Mother, — Nymphadora was in no hurry to prove the opposite of the praise she had just heard. After a moment of thought, the girl spoke. — When did you learn that Bellatrix Lestrange was alive? — She would never have admitted it, but her mother's approving smile meant a great deal to the girl, and so she felt a surge of confidence when she saw the gesture.

— A few days ago, — the woman replied slowly, pleased that her usually restless daughter had not fired off a machine-gun line of questions, and that she had even guessed that her mother was certainly not involved in the conspiracy. — But there was one important detail you should know and take note of. — The woman took a sip of her hot drink and looked at her daughter. — Bellatrix is 'Black' again, not 'Lestrange' — that's important.

— Important why? With what? — The young metamorph frowned and put the antique cup down on the table, just in case.

— Because, my daughter, she's not just 'Black', she's the current Regent of the Black Family, to which we also belong... — the woman nodded importantly, smiling inwardly at her daughter's mixture of confusion and incomprehension.

— I thought you said you were banished for associating with Papa Blackie! — The girl spat out her hands.

— I did, — the woman sighed, setting her mug down on the table as well and returning her gaze to her daughter. — I don't know how familiar you are with the real situation in the country during the war with the Unnamed and his men, but I told you about magical families and births. — At these words, Nymphadora nodded in agreement; she had never understood why these stories were necessary when they were banished from the clan, but now it looked like she would get an answer to this long-standing question.

— The thing was, during this war, the magical clans had actually been given a choice: either work with the Unnamed, stand under his banner and accept the Mark, or your fate would be in question. Even the so-called 'neutral' families, who didn't accept the power of the Unnamed, but didn't fight against him either, tried to maintain relations with the Eaters, albeit secretly from the general public, and did them favors when necessary, — Nymphadora's face reflected what she was thinking, but she didn't interrupt her mother. Not because of any special stamina or success in controlling emotions, no, it was a simple sedative, not even a potion — an infusion, quite harmless and very useful, added to the tea by the wise Andromeda. It was a pity that the potion did not last long.

— Everyone knew and understood everything, but they could not forbid it, and the "neutrals" themselves were afraid of a possible victory of the Unnamed, because he could start to take revenge, openly, without hiding. He had never been good-natured and forgiving, and as time went on, his behavior, his decisions and orders began to show increasing insanity along with manic cruelty. Some of the clans tried to escape, and some even succeeded, but the Unnamed One was never an idiot, and the Ministry, with Crouch and Dumbledore's encouragement, began to stir, which resulted in the deaths of some of the few clans for various reasons, most often when Ministry employees detained refugees, and while the proceedings were going on, the Eaters attacked, usually destroying only the "rats," as they were contemptuously called at the time.

— But they were only trying to save themselves, weren't they? — the girl exclaimed, her thoughts drifting to the information that had been revealed.

— That's right, — the woman nodded. — Those who decided to flee the war wanted to escape, and believe me, many had to literally step on their throats to give up their assets in Britain, their father's home, to "put on the shame of cowardice" and flee. For most, the unwillingness to become a "rat" was enough to put aside thoughts of escape, and they were forced to take sides. — The woman paused briefly to wet her throat with the already cooled tea.

— Cissy and I agreed that calling them "cowards" and "rats" was someone's cunning move to keep the wizards on the islands. Someone very clever and cunning came up with the idea of cutting off an example of escape at the root, so that, for heaven's sake, not everyone would escape in the first place. And if that happens, where, I ask you, will we get new "meat" for the war? Who will fight until there is a winner?

— Nymphadora thought about it and had to admit that if everyone ran away, only the heads of the opposing sides and their cronies would be left, who were not very often (if history was to be believed) on the battlefield, the main blows being dealt by "ordinary fighters". It was unpleasant for the girl to think about it, but she knew that in those years, not only the employees of the Ministry, who were obviously not enough to fully control the places where they could strike, but also the Order of the Phoenix, which had many allies from magical clans. Andromeda, on the other hand, continued the story.

— The Black Family had always been too proud to voluntarily accept the stigma of cowardice, and so it was decided to develop a plan to save the family — its survival in any finale of the war. — The woman paused again, only this time her whole demeanor indicated a desire to hear what was already obvious.

— It turns out... — the girl whispered softly, looking at her mother in disbelief. — It turns out that you and Daddy...

— What, me and Daddy? — the woman grinned, looking at her shocked daughter.

— If you hadn't been cast out, — she said slowly, frowning in amusement. — If that's the case, then it seems that the blacks recognize your marriage...?

— That's right, — the woman nodded, smiling contentedly. — We had a proper marriage ritual: our hands were joined by Lord Black himself on the family stone, as it should be. — Andromeda was silent again, giving her daughter a chance to think.

— And you told the world that you were banished for betraying your family. — The woman nodded in agreement. — Daddy was already working for the Ministry then? — Andromeda smiled at her daughter and nodded again. — So you hid in plain sight! — The girl exhaled. — The Ministry would have remained intact anyway, and you, who didn't fight on anyone's side, wouldn't have been suppressed if the Unnamed had won. But why did they give Bellatrix to the Lestranges, would it have been enough if Narcissa had become Malfoy's wife? And then there was Regulus?

— You're right, Nymphadora, under those circumstances it would have been enough, the Blacks could have claimed a neutral position and the strongest members of the family could have secured a protected family nest. But everything had gone wrong. — The woman sighed heavily, unable to speak easily on the subject, but unable to remain silent.

— It had started with Sirius — he had betrayed the family, disowned them, and it was good that he hadn't used blood to back up his words, but that was enough to make him lose his right to be heir. He had always been too impetuous and subject to his desires and moods, and he was a Gryffindor, and that house had always been allowed as much as Slytherin. Walburga said a lot of unnecessary things out of emotion and then started blackmailing him with letters that he would be expelled from the family. Seeing my example, Sirius wasn't afraid, especially since he was sure that his friends would support his decision. How would he know about the plan if he wasn't mature enough to be trusted with such secrets? — A short pause, Nymphadora sat frozen, breathing evenly.

— Narcissa had been promised to Lucius and Bellatrix to Lestrange by their grandfathers since childhood, so there was nothing to be done. But then, clearly in some sort of madness, the whole plan was disrupted by Walburga when she sent Regulus to serve the Unnamed One. Uncle Orion had gone after Regulus when he heard of it, hoping to intercept him, to stop him from taking the mark, but he was too late, and then he disappeared without a trace, just like Regulus, only the cousin a little later than his father. Walburga had lost her whole family, all her relatives, and she seemed to believe the lies we told outsiders, so I never spoke to her again.

So it was really just the three of us: me, your father and you, with occasional secret meetings with Narcissa, who couldn't help us if anything unexpected happened. — Sighing heavily again, the woman looked at her daughter with a weary expression. — Could I have told you all this when you were little? When you didn't understand?