Family Album: Carols for Christmas

Family Album: Carols for Christmas

She raced through the long curving corridors, her high heels slipping on the marble floor as she ran. She had never learned to apparate, and cursed herself for her failure. Her heart pounded in her breast and she had to stop and catch her breath for a moment, steadying herself on the banisters at the top of the stairs. Damn! She did not have time for this now, did not have time to wonder why lately she had found it so hard to catch her breath, why she tasted blood in her throat as she ran. She had to get to the children. Far below in the in the maze of backstage rehearsal rooms and offices that served the great concert hall she could hear their voices rising. Shrieks and cries and screams, oh God. She had to reach them, and drawing in a painful breath, Helena Crouch took off her shoes and sprinted on.

She flung open the door, the long sleeves of her dress robes flying wide, her wand at the ready. Inside, it was pandemonium.

'Just what is going on?'

There was silence.

'You do realise that everyone in this building can hear you? Your parents are in the lobby. The WWN are attempting to test the microphones in the hall. And here are you, sounding like a troop of banshees and ruining, ruining your voices. I had thought better of you.'

'Sorry Madam Crouch.' Sorry, sorry, sorry. The murmurs spread around the room. One or of the older children looked embarrassed. A few of the little ones started to sniffle dangerously.

'Now, now. I know you're all excited, but try and keep it down. You've got forty-five minutes yet before we start. Mr Crabbe, whatever that is, put it away. All you girls under eleven, come with me now to get changed.' She led them away to the dressing rooms in a little crocodile and hoped that none of them had forgotten their dress robes. Really, it had been a most trying day.

The children's Christmas concert was a relatively recent innovation, but a most successful one. It was pleasantly irreligious in the best British fashion and participation was open to all young wizards and witches who could pass the audition, although naturally the under-elevens consisted purely of those with magical parentage. Even among the Hogwarts contingent there were very few Muggle-borns, as the concert was held on Christmas Eve in the main Manchester concert hall and preparation demanded several days practice beforehand. Helena Crouch did not object to this. A few Muggle-borns added variety, but it was nice for the Wizarding parents in the audience to know that they were among friends, and less intimidating for the children. One never knew quite how Muggles would behave.

It had been a trying day. The children were all on edge, and displaying their nerves in many and varied ways. Miranda Fudge had been found out on the fire escape smoking cigarettes and Rabastan Lestrange, in his first year with the orchestra, had been sick in his neighbour's euphonium. As for the soloists, there she could only hope. Her own nerves had hardly been calmed by the sight of Bellatrix Black walking around all day in a discernible tremor, her little face looking white and gaunt. Helena wondered if she were putting too much pressure on the child, but nothing untoward had happened, no unfortunate incendiary accidents with the sheet music, and the girl had a lovely voice, low but strong, unusual in such a young girl. There she was in the corner now, muttering to her sisters. Oh dear, Helena thought, I do hope Andromeda isn't planning anything.

Andromeda was, and Bellatrix thought it hilarious. Her younger sister had told Sirius that a lethifold had escaped from the zoo and was lose in the area. Moreover, she had said that it wasn't just a normal lethifold, but invisible as the result of a dangerous breeding experiment with a demiguise. Sirius was terribly gullible at the prospect of excitement. The Ministry, Andromeda whispered, was covering it up to prevent any embarrassment, but the beast had already killed four Muggles. Their cousin had spent the whole day torn between terror of the creature and a wild enthusiasm about capturing it and making his own invisibility cloak. He had settled for walking round with his arm crooked at the elbow and his finger bent to direct any magic that the need to save his life might allow him to perform. Narcissa had pointed out that the only spontaneous magic Sirius had ever managed was causing his brother's nappies to attack the house elves, but this did not dissuade him. He stalked along the corridors, jumping at every sound, and hiding his pointed finger in his robes in a manner that Bellatrix thought looked somehow rather rude.

Madam Crouch led them back to the other children in the rehearsal room. Sirius, in his first year in the concert and rather over-excited, was singing in the corner with some other boys Bellatrix did not recognise.

While shepherds washed their socks by night

All using Scourgify!

The angel of the Lord came down

And stole their last mince pie.

Bellatrix sniffed. Boys were so childish. She tugged at her neck where her shift had runkled uncomfortably against the collar of her new dress robes. They were crimson velvet, open at the neck and cuffs to reveal the ivory silk shift beneath, and swirled about the hems with cream embroidery. Mother said that she looked very pretty. Even the almost grown-up Miranda Fudge had said it, and Miranda knew all about fashion so it must be true. Bellatrix told herself that she wasn't nervous about her song. She knew that she could do it. She had wanted to be chosen and she had been, the special one, the youngest, only eleven next week, she would do them all proud. She sank into the corner while Andromeda and Narcissa wandered vaguely away, chatting to the younger girls.

Only ten minutes to go - thank goodness! Miss Rosier was practising her scales by the piano. She was in her seventh year at Hogwarts now and off to the Dubrovnik École next year for professional training. Ah, there was the bell.

'Come along, line up.' Helena Crouch pointed to the door with her wand and wincing a little at the pain in her side, led the children off to the stage. There she handed over to Professor Vector who was to lead both choir and orchestra, and sank down into her chair behind a pillar. Miss Rosier began to sing King Wenceslas was a Mighty Mage and Helena let the sound of voice and violins wash over her and acknowledged that if she wished ever to see little Barty up on the stage it was time she went to the Healers.

The music and carols passed with clapping and occasional sleigh-bells. The programme was a mix of Muggle and Wizard favourites, carols being infectious by nature, and Wizards having produced too few notable composers. Once in Royal David's City was followed by My Wand is of the Holly Tree, in Helena's opinion a vile modern confection, redeemed only by the scope it gave for the invention of a seemingly endless stream of vulgar alternative lyrics. She had had to stop Lucius Malfoy and the elder Lestrange boy teaching them to the younger children earlier in the day.

My wand is of the Holly Tree,

Praise to the Lord that he gave to me

A wand so straight and long and thick...

It wasn't quite what the little ones were supposed to be learning. Lucius himself had a lovely voice. He was to open the second half with the first verse of Three Wizards Come From Persian Lands, traditionally sung by a boy treble, although judging by the rate at which Lucius had been growing recently the boy's third year with the song would be his last. He might be a very skinny fourteen, but he was fourteen nonetheless. Lucius's nerves had shown today only in the slightly determined edge to his usual insouciance. He was quite the performer, that one. Well, it went with the blood.

There was a shuffle on stage, and Helena looked up. Bellatrix Black had moved from her place in the middle of the choir to the front, looking very small in her dark red robes, her thick black hair tied back with a thin ribbon. Small, thin, enveloped in the heavy robes, mouth set in a little line, still she managed to look utterly composed as she waited for her verse. Professor Vector dipped her wand, and the child began,

Herod the king, in his raging,
Charged he hath this day;
His men of might, in his own sight,
All children young, to slay.

The children filed offstage for the interval, Bellatrix at their front steadfastly ignoring the applause and the whispers from her cousin and sisters to turn round. Another performer, Helena reflected, and one to watch. There was so much watching to be done these days.

The children were allowed out into the auditorium to meet their parents and to take a single mince pie each, an edict promptly ignored by Sirius and a scruffy-haired boy to whom he seemed to have attached himself. Bellatrix made her way through the crowd to her parents, who were talking to a thin, stately looking elderly gentleman whom she vaguely recognised as an acquaintance of her father. Bellatrix wriggled out of her mother's embrace and stood nibbling her mince pie.

'So you're Bellatrix,' said the stately gentleman.

'Yes.' There wasn't much else one could say to that.

'A big name for a little girl. Don't they ever call you Bella?'

'No.' It came out a more strongly than she had intended for her father frowned slightly, but the stately gentleman, whom she now remembered as a Councillor to the Wizangemot, only smiled and said,

'Well you know yourself best, Bellatrix. It's a fine name. And that was a very fine song from you. Herod the King,' he mused softly. He broke off, jerked up his head and turned back to her father. 'Yes, rogue thestrals are becoming quite a problem. These dangerous creatures - there's too little control. Macnair has some sound ideas...' Mrs Black reached down for her daughter's hand.

'Come on, dear,' she said. 'Let's say hello to people.' Bellatrix turned her head. Her father and the man were still talking, now joined by Mr Malfoy, blond hair gleaming in the torchlight. She dragged her attention back to her mother, who had led her to a group of young witches at the foot of the stage. One of them turned round. She had a slightly plump face, and thick honey-brown hair secured at one side with a tortoiseshell comb.

'You haven't met Alice Longbottom, have you Bellatrix?' Bellatrix frowned.

'Of course I...Oh!' Now she felt silly. Of course, her mother had been to the wedding only last month. 'Congratulations. May I see your ring?' She believed it was the right thing to say, and it must have been because the other young witches smiled and laughed and Alice, who was now young Madam Longbottom, held out her hand. On a thin gold band above a thicker plain one was set a glittering yellow stone, surrounded by diamonds.

'It was my mother-in-law's,' Alice Longbottom explained. 'It's been in the family for five generations. It's old-fashioned, but one likes to keep up the traditions.'

'Oh, absolutely, and you've married into a fine family for such things,' answered Mrs Black. 'Really, Alice, your mother must be so pleased to have you settled. You can't imagine what it's like to have daughters. Boys one can rule, but girls - one always worries about romantic notions.'

'I'm sure Bellatrix is a sensible girl,' Alice smiled.

'Even the sensible ones can have their heads turned,' said Mrs Black. 'I suppose you'll carry on working for the present, Alice?' The Longbottoms had never had more wealth than needful for respectability.

'Yes. Of course, I enjoy it, too...' Bellatrix wandered away. Around her witches and wizards mingled with a few out-of-place Muggles. Emmeline Vance was chatting to a red-headed man who must be one of the Boneses. Sirius and the black-haired boy were stalking round the edges, pointed fingers at the ready. Suddenly, Sirius's sleeve seemed to catch on the air and he fell down, struggling silently against invisible bonds before being just as suddenly released. Bellatrix heard a hiss, and looked up to the gallery where Lucius Malfoy was standing with Narcissa and Andromeda, all three snorting with laughter behind their hands. Lucius's wand was sticking out of his pocket. They waved for her to come up, but Bellatrix turned away, hurrying through the packed crowd, nodding hello as she passed hot bodies swathed in heavy robes, passed the pungent smell of punch hanging over the refreshment table. At last there were the stairs ahead of her, cool and quiet, and she hurried up them past the door on to the gallery, taking the long flight up into the deserted lighting box. She slumped into a chair and rested her forehead against the iron safety rail in blessed isolation.

'Bellatrix?' It was Sirius, looking about nervously in the gloom. 'Bellatrix, Madam Crouch says we have to go down for the second half.'

'Of course.' She tightened and relaxed her grip on the rail. 'I was just looking at the view. Look! Mr MacKinnon's going bald.'

'Let's see.' Sirius moved forward as Bellatrix stood up to leave. 'Wow. You can see down Madam Vance's robes.' Bellatrix glared at him.

'I'll be down in a minute.'

'If you say so,' answered her cousin, rattling off down the stairs. His shadow followed him down the long flight as Bellatrix straightened her robes and put her hand out to the banister for the long descent. Bellatrix is a sensible girl, Alice had said. Alice now Longbottom who had married an Auror and still had to work, Alice who thought that to be sensible was everything one could desire. Alice, who would never know how far, how very far from sensible Bellatrix could be, how even now she was standing up here alone, that she had sent Sirius on ahead of her so that she could stand up here at the top of the hall and be alone in the dark and afraid of the dark, but nonetheless still standing here to be alive and afraid in the dark a little bit longer, and she would come again and again and conquer it and at last she would come because she liked it. But for now, she was still afraid. The door of the lighting box swung shut. Behind her in the dark came a rustle, as of a lethifold or a snake. Bellatrix picked up her robes and ran, and ran, and ran.