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A dozen young people gathered together in the café, dreaming of revolution. Emmeline Vance was debating politics with the Prewett brothers, Frank Longbottom was laughing at a joke of Alice's, and Caradoc Dearborn took a swig of firewhiskey before slamming his cup down on the table and cursing the tyrannical government that ruled Wizarding Britain and beyond with an iron fist.
Andromeda Black lurked in the corner, watching from a distance as a golden-haired man in a red jacket made a speech about freedom and equality. Few people noticed her, and those that did wouldn't recognize her for who she was. She made certain of that.
Most likely, nobody would recognize her even if she hadn’t concealed her true identity behind deceptive charms. The Blacks were important, but they weren’t that important. It wasn’t as if she was Gellert Grindelwald’s granddaughter or something.
About a year ago, Andromeda had walked out of her parents’ house once and for all, unable to take any more of their support for the man who, as far as she was concerned, had made the Wizarding World a far worse place. In the middle of the night, she had knocked on Emmeline Vance’s door, asking for a place to stay. Emmeline didn’t have much - just a futon Andromeda could sleep on - but she was the only one of her friends from Hogwarts who Andromeda could trust not to go directly to her parents.
So now, Andromeda made a living working long shifts at an apothecary in Diagon Alley, going by Annie Lanoire, a shortened form of her first name joined with the French translation of her surname. In what little free time she had, she accompanied Emmeline to meetings in a café just a few doors down from the apothecary, a place where the butterbeer and firewhiskey were always flowing and where idealistic twenty-somethings dreamed of a better future.
Andromeda longed for that better future. She needed it to arrive yesterday, not so much for her own sake, but for Ted’s.
Ted Tonks had never been to the café in Diagon Alley. Under Grindelwald’s reign, Muggle-borns were rarely allowed into the places where the magic was strongest and the Wizarding community gathered in large numbers, unless they were there to serve their so-called betters. They lived on the margins, doing menial labor, scrubbing cauldrons and sweeping floors.
Ted did exactly that sort of work at the apothecary where Andromeda, with her faked half-blood family tree, waited on customers and restocked the shelves. On her breaks, she would go into the back room and talk to him, the only one of the other employees who acknowledged his existence except to give orders or sneer insults. It broke her heart to see them treat him that way. He was funny and kind and far more intelligent than she had been taught to expect from a Muggle-born. He deserved better, and knowing him had only strengthened her resolve to oppose the Grindelwald regime at all costs.
She wished, sometimes, that things had been different all along. They would’ve been in the same year at Hogwarts, if Ted had been allowed to attend. Perhaps they could have shared a cauldron in Potions class and taken long walks by the lakeside in springtime.
That would never happen now. But maybe the future could still be better than the past. So, in the corner of the café, she sipped her butterbeer and listened as the passionate man in red talked about revolution.
“Phineas Black is dead!”
The words echoed through the room, leading to gasps and furtive whispers. Andromeda sat in the corner, her eyes widening and her breath catching in her throat.
Phineas Black II was, according to Andromeda’s parents, the greatest disappointment the family had ever produced. According to her new friends, he was the only voice of reason in a cruel and oppressive government. Between his surname and his skill at politics, the pro-Grindelwald majority had never been able to kick him out, no matter how much he talked about radical concepts like Muggles having rights.
When Andromeda first began to question her family’s ideals, learning more about her great-great-uncle had felt like a lifeline. And now he was dead. Of old age? He was certainly old enough, but Andromeda knew there were plenty of people who would rejoice at his death and might well have brought it about.
“This is it, then,” said a voice in the crowd. “This is the sign we’ve been waiting for. There’s no one left who will stand up for what’s right, so we’ll have to do it ourselves.”
“Revolution? Barricades?”
“Oh, yes. My friends, do you hear it? Do you hear the people sing?”
That was how they always described it, the urge to rebel. A song. A song that began as a whisper, a hum, murmuring faintly in the background, easy to ignore. A song that grew and grew until it filled your mind and heart, pushing away fear, banishing hesitation. Andromeda had worn green at Hogwarts, but now she and her friends saw the world in shades of red and black.
Red for blood spilled. Red for anger. Red for the dawn of a new age.
Black for the darkness of the past, a night that would soon end.
They had been in Gryffindor, most of them. No doubt they had chosen their color scheme with a bias. But Andromeda didn’t object. She wanted things to change as much as anyone.
And yet, when they spoke of revolution, she hesitated. It was one thing to sit in a café listening to treasonous speeches. It was another thing entirely to start fighting in the streets.
“Grindelwald is too powerful,” she whispered to Ted in the a stolen moment in the backroom of the apothecary. “I’m afraid of what will happen.”
“Then don’t go,” he told her, squeezing her hand gently in his.
But, of course, it wasn’t that simple.
“I believe in what they’re doing. I want them to succeed. If everyone stays away to keep themselves safe, the ones who do fight will be doomed.”
Of course, they were probably doomed already. The thought of all her friends dying for what they believed in made her heart clench with fear and dread. But it wasn't enough to make her want to leave them to their fate.
“I can’t turn my back on my friends. And I can't turn down the chance to fight for a better future, for all of us.”
For you, she thought, but she couldn't quite bring herself to say it. Ted seemed to understand, though. He looked into her eyes with more tenderness than anyone ever had before.
“Then I’ll go with you.”
She shook her head.
“No, it’s too dangerous.”
“It’s equally dangerous for both of us,” he argued, “and it’s people like me you’re fighting for, isn’t it? If you go, I’ll go. If you fight, I’ll fight. I’ll be by your side until the end, no matter what.”
Andromeda felt tears well up in her eyes. With a sad smile, she leaned in and kissed him, clinging to him as though she was afraid she would never have another chance.