Friday, 16th August, 1991
British Duelling Circuit, Knockadaff, Ireland
The crowd was up on their feet as they watched the eighteen-year-old Nymphadora Tonks pressing on her opponent in the Final, the thirty-three-year-old Gabriel Fletcher, a two-time British Duelling Circuit winner.
Streams of magic, jets of dangerous but calculated spells, flew everywhere. The entire arena was already in shambles, the ground was caved in, one side was a horror of vines and on fire. There was a large puddle in the middle, not of water but of something deadly, if the sizzling steam oozing out of it was anything to go by.
Gemma, who was standing between Altair and Daphne, was not even blinking. She was focusing, learning, assessing the scales that she would have to face next year.
Daphne, who wanted to become a fine duellist herself, clearly saw the long journey ahead of her. She was nowhere near the level of the witch and wizard who were crossing wands today. There were not many in the world either who could give such an electric show to the audience.
The grit, the focus, and the desire to win that Nymphadora was displaying resonated with a lot of hearts, and even the supporters of Mr Fletcher were secretly rooting for her now.
Those who had bet on her victory were holding their breaths, and the screams that escaped their lungs when a blind Expelliarmus struck Gabriel pierced through the sky.
The two-time British Duelling Circuit winner was perplexed at what had happened, but just a sigh and a forced smile later, he regained his bearing and picked up his wand.
Nymphadora and Gabriel followed the etiquette, bowed to each other after the duel, and the man congratulated her and quietly left the arena, leaving her alone under the applause of thousands and the flashes of cameras.
Altair smiled when Nymphadora found him, their eyes met, and he raised his hands above his head to clap for her, showing his respect.
She curtsied to him under the guise of curtsying to the crowd, and then grinned as her trophy and wreath were brought over by the Management.
It was the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, who personally put the wreath on her head and presented her with the trophy.
The fireworks were set off, and Nymphadora mischievously recreated Altair's Primus Cup celebration, which made Gemma and Daphne laugh.
She was then dragged away by the reporters, with Professor Montclair by her side, and none of them saw her again until the evening, when she returned to her tent.
The Hogwarts professors present there and the students who had come to watch the final had prepared a surprise for her. There was so much noise and screaming that evening that Altair was glad Luna had chosen not to come, but like everything, the celebrations came to an end as well.
He also saw Corey Hayden, the now Seventh Year Gryffindor, propose to Nymphadora, who was his childhood friend, and the heartbreak he had to suffer as the former Head Girl politely refused him.
She was visibly sad at losing a friend that evening, knowing well that some things, when lost, would never return, but she managed to smile at Altair and Apparated away with him, taking him to sit with her on top of a bridge, close to her residence.
The two stared at the water that was flowing down the stream, silence surrounding them, and when it broke, it was a playful comment.
"You lost me a friend today."
"Did I?" He chuckled. "You would have never accepted his proposal even if I did not exist."
"Oh, why?"
"He's smart, a talented wizard, but untrustworthy. He is brave, but he cannot be trusted with responsibilities. Someone like you sees right through people like him."
"He's handsome though. You don't know how many girls have visited the broom cupboard with him." She smirked, and Altair laughed and shook his head.
"No, I don't, and neither am I interested." He smiled and met her eyes.
She was not hiding her appearance right now, so his eyes stayed on her. She was beautiful, and she knew it as she smiled at his reaction.
"So, how does it feel to be the one to win against the finest duellist in Britain?"
"Hey, still sour over your loss?"
"I let you win, kid." She grinned, and he laughed.
"Shouldn't have done it then." He shrugged and met her eyes again. "So, how does it feel to have proven a point to yourself today?"
Her eyes widened at his question, but then she looked away, a little restless.
"It's scary how you can read minds and hearts."
"I don't read minds." He shook his head. "That would be rude."
"And hearts?"
"Only those I care enough to keep." He smiled, and she rolled her eyes at his words.
"You are only twelve years old. You know that, right?"
"Yes."
"Then why do you talk like a wise old man?"
"Do I sound like a wise old man?" He smiled when she nodded her head. "No twelve-year-old can trick me. I refuse to believe it."
"When have I ever tricked you?"
"See, you never talk like a kid."
Altair shrugged and stopped bickering with her.
"If you don't want to answer my question, just say so. There is no need to try and change the subject."
"Yeah, no fun! You are way too smart."
Altair chuckled and then grabbed her hand, intertwining their fingers.
"I am proud of you."
Nymphadora froze at his words, and then lowered her head, staring at the flowing stream.
"Do you know why I keep hiding myself?" She muttered, not expecting an answer, but she received one.
"You resemble Aunt Bellatrix much more than your own mother." He smiled. "Black, shiny hair, the arrogance..."
"Hey..."
"In a good way."
"Yeah, you would say that because you are a Black."
"Guilty." He shrugged, and she laughed.
"You call Bellatrix Lestrange 'Aunt'?"
"Yes."
"She was crazy."
"Yes."
"Evil."
"Mayhaps."
"Do you not know what she did to the Longbottoms and Bones..."
"I know. And do you know why it was done?"
Nymphadora furrowed her brows, shaking her head.
"Gervais and Ginevra Lestrange, parents to Rabastan, Roxana, and Rodolphus Lestrange, were against Voldemort. They did not like their sons growing close to the Dark Lord, but initially, things were not hostile. They were ideological, more political. Things, however, changed when a wizard was killed, supposedly for standing up for Muggles and Muggle-borns. The next thing people knew, rumours started circulating about Dumbledore's Army, a force of resistance being formed. Overnight, the war started..."
Having never heard this side before, she was in deep shock, and when the truth was revealed, she was in dismay.
"The Longbottoms and Bones, both Aurors and Hit Wizards in the Ministry, but secretly part of Dumbledore's Army, were sent to capture Rabastan, Rodolphus, and Bellatrix, who, at that time, were being accused of the killing of a few Muggle-borns. They didn't do it. Later, the real killer was caught and killed." He sighed. "Gervais and Ginevra tried to protect them, cover their escape, but Dumbledore's Army had come prepared. A battle ensued after the talks failed, and Gervais and Ginevra were killed trying to help their children escape. They died right in front of their eyes, and their deaths broke them. They could not just bear that loss, cope with the hatred in their hearts, and they truly turned dark. The Bones were killed first, in the most horrific of ways, and then Aunt Bellatrix tortured the Longbottom couple in their house, stealing their sanity away and leaving them a life worse than death. And do you know that the Longbottoms were believed to be responsible for my uncle, Regulus Black's death?"
"No..."
"They were heard cheering for his death at the Leaky Cauldron with some of their friends. Whether they really did it or not remains a mystery, but I don't think they did it. They never confessed to it under Aunt Bellatrix's torture."
Altair glanced at her and then sighed.
"As mad as she was, she could never bring herself to kill her little sister, whom she claimed she hated with all her heart."
"My... mother?"
"Yes. I don't want you to ask Professor Tonks what her decision to marry your father did to her mother, but you should know that your maternal grandmother died of a broken heart at the betrayal of her most beloved daughter. And your maternal grandfather is dying of a broken heart too." He furrowed his brows and stared at the water flowing down.
"Do you hate my mother too?" she nervously asked, and was surprised to see him shake his head. "Why?"
"She was young and naive, and I don't think she truly realised the consequences of her decision. Mother says that Professor Tonks was disillusioned by all the madness and prejudice in the Black family against Muggle-borns and Muggles, and since she was the favourite of their parents, she was a little... wilful."
Altair sadly sighed.
"When grandaunt passed away, your mother did try to see her one last time. She begged on her knees, cried and screamed, even fought to get past Aunt Bellatrix, but she was not allowed. Grandaunt had requested the family not to let her see her, and she had also requested them not to harm her and you," he informed her. "Even with a broken heart, she could never truly stop loving her child. She even cared for you, despite considering you a taint to our blood."
Nymphadora's body quivered at his words, and tears leaked out, which she quickly wiped away.
"Do you think that I am a taint to your blood?"
"No. I think you are the consequence of your mother's decision, and you are innocent of any blame. My mother thinks the same, and it goes the same for Aunt Narcissa. Granduncle would never call you his granddaughter, but I know he doesn't hate you either."
He glanced at her, found her on the verge of breaking into tears again, and furrowed his brows as he looked back at the stream.
"You are not a Half-Blood, Nymora. Your father is a wizard. A Muggle-born, but a wizard. Your blood is magical from both sides," he lightly said. "But you are not a Pure-blood either. I don't and won't ever hold that against you, but I cannot ever give you the Black name. You are not a Black."
"What am I then?" she asked, and even though she did not mean to, she glared at him.
Altair again saw the spark of madness in her eyes, and he knew he had to be very careful with his words. Whatever he would say would remain in her mind and heart forever.
But he was not going to lie to her either.
"Whatever you want to be." He smiled. "You are in a unique position, and you just don't realise it yet. You can form your own family, create a new name, forge a new legacy, and since your blood isn't tainted by a Muggle, if you marry a Pure-blood wizard from an Ancient and Noble lineage, your children will be magically considered Pure-bloods. Just not of the Ancient, Noble, and Sacred lineage of Black or that of the father of your children. A new family. This is how so many of the Ancient Pure-blood families came into being."
"You will not let me keep the Tonks name." She saw through his words and frowned when he shook his head.
"I cannot force you to give up your father's name, but if you marry me and we have children, I will not allow you to give that name to them," he straightforwardly said, and she narrowed her eyes at him. "I don't want to lie to you, Nymora."
At those words, she turned her eyes away and stared at the stream again, swinging her legs.
"I love my Papa." She whispered, and he smiled.
"That's a good thing."
"Do you hate him?" she asked, and he shook his head again.
"No, I don't."
"Truly?"
"Yes."
"Would you sit with him? Have a chat with him? Share a meal with him?"
"Why not?" He looked at her in confusion.
"Would you invite him to your home?" she asked again, and frowned when he did not answer.
When she turned to look at him, she found him shaking his head.
"Why not?" she asked again, and he smiled.
"He is not worthy enough," he politely said, and she narrowed her eyes.
"Does that have to do with the fact that he is a Muggle-born?" she asked, and he smiled.
"No."
Nymphadora would have argued, but then she recalled how he had sat at the same table with a Muggle-born chef and happily shared a meal with her, engaging her in conversation.
"Want to learn the next level of the Patronus Charm now?" he gently asked, and she smiled despite her train of thought.
"Yes!"
"Well, it's not that hard..."
For the next one hour, the two stood on the bridge with Altair guiding her through the new spell, and even though it was quite simple in theory, it was not easy at all when it came to implementation.
Nymphadora had never in her life struggled so hard to get it right, and her struggle meant something that Altair took notice of.
But she eventually succeeded, and after that it was easier for her to improve on it.