Chapter Text
Hardly had Lucretia savoured the first sip of her well-deserved liqueur when the bourgeois drawing room transformed into a theatre of unimaginable chaos. Cygnus and Druella, like bristling cats, took on a threatening posture, their eyes blazing with wild fury. They lacked only fur and tails to complete this transformation. Orion and Walburga, on the other hand, bore looks filled with bottomless anger, with a particular intensity in Mrs. Black's eyes. She, the architect of Sirius's banishment, had carried out her task with almost unhealthy joy.
Walburga Black was never seen as a figure of tenderness. From her early years at Hogwarts, she distinguished herself with her cruelty, not hesitating to cast curses on those who, in her eyes, surpassed her beauty or intelligence. She orchestrated her marriage with Orion Black, aware that Arcturus's future death would propel her husband to the head of the family, thereby granting her titles, lands, and wealth. Driven by a devouring ambition, she moulded her heirs to be docile and obedient, thus ensuring her uncontested dominion once her husband passed away, convinced she would outlive him. After all, it's often said that the vilest are the last to depart, and Walburga was indeed one of the vilest creatures the magical world had known.
However, Sirius Black emerged as the perfect contradiction to these aspirations. He showed constant rebellion, displaying a marked interest in Muggles and their inventions, defying the idea that they could enrich the magical world in any way. Despite draconian discipline — the Cruciatus Curse being abusively termed as an educational measure — Sirius resisted, eventually leaving the family home. Walburga's rage reached its zenith when she publicly disowned him, erasing his face from the family tapestry at Grimmauld Place with chilling coldness. Fortunately for her, Regulus turned out to be the ideal son by joining the Dark Lord and complying with maternal wishes.
"This wretch was never worthy of the Black family heritage!" she shrieked with cutting animosity, pointing an accusatory finger at Sirius. "I disowned him! Excommunicated! Exiled! He is nothing to me, he never was!"
"My son?" bellowed Orion, overwhelmed by volcanic anger. "I should bear that title, not this traitor who chose to align with that fool Dumbledore and his pro-Muggle ideals. The Black family's reputation will be tarnished, our name will become synonymous with dishonour, just like those miserable Weasleys! What of those blood traitors? The impoverished, the inferiors! I will never tolerate being associated with those pro-Muggle degenerates!"
Arcturus, with Olympian calm, merely raised an eyebrow at the fiery tirades of his descendants. His gaze briefly shifted to Molly Weasley, who had risen, her face flushed with rage. The insults towards her family had clearly crossed an intolerable threshold for her. By some curious twist of fate, her daughter found herself in the arms of an evidently moved Narcissa Malefoy, who gazed at the child with overwhelming intensity. Only Lucius caught the fervent desire in his wife's eyes, aware of their struggle to conceive another child, Draco being considered a miracle.
"How dare you spew such slander about my family, you despicable wretch?" Molly launched in a voice that would go down in Hogwarts history. "Better to be poor than to turn into monsters who hide their murders behind masks, worshipping that abject scourge you dare call 'Lord'! There is no dishonour in embracing Muggles, my husband cherishes them, and I support him, even if their culture and inventions elude me. I have even formed bonds with Muggle families, who prove to be far more civilized and worthy of respect than you and your demonic wife!"
"Demonic?" Walburga retorted, brandishing her wand with a palpable threat. "You will bitterly regret your words, traitor, Confringo!"
Molly's eyes widened in shock and fear as she heard the spell being cast. At her side, Sirius, Lucius, Andromeda, and Ted unsheathed their wands with a readiness that betrayed their willingness to fight. But to everyone's astonishment, Walburga's wand remained silent, as if mute, leaving its owner in baffling perplexity before this once mighty source of her power.
"Crucio!"
The chilling incantation echoed in the silence, a reflection of the cold determination that drove Arcturus, as Walburga collapsed, plunged into the depths of pain under the impassive and icy gaze of he who held her fate in his hands.
"Mercy! Mercy!" Walburga's heartrending pleas filled the room, a desperate call for mercy under the wide-eyed gaze of the macabre scene's witnesses. "Haaa! Mercy! Please Mercy!"
"Father!" Orion's cry, a rending scream of despair, marked a moment of extreme tension. Kneeling by his wife's side, he implored Arcturus's mercy, a mercy that seemed to have deserted the patriarch's heart.
Arcturus, unshakable, continued his punishment for twenty endless seconds. For Walburga, those moments turned into an eternity of unimaginable suffering. Arthur Weasley, observing his children, saw in their averted gaze towards the salon's vaults an escape from the horror of the scene. A spell, likely the work of the Black patriarch, had shielded them from witnessing and hearing this tragedy. A relief tinged with gratitude filled him, gratitude towards the unknown for sparing his children from such trauma.
Sirius faced a moral dilemma. Should he rejoice in his mother's suffering, the same woman who had once subjected him to the same torment, express indignation over the attack on a woman he esteemed, or be shocked by the use of an unforgivable curse? He settled for a bitter relief, a form of poetic justice for past pains.
"Walburga Black," Arcturus's address, cold as ice, marked the beginning of an irrevocable sentence. "You dared to defy me on this day when I have extended my protection to the Weasley family within these walls. You dared to raise your wand in this sacred salon during a family convocation. You dared to question my decisions while I am your lord."
All direct members of the Black family were witnessing this scene with palpable intensity, their eyes wide open reflecting a mix of astonishment and fear. Arcturus Black, the patriarch, dominated the room with his imposing stature, his voice resonating with undeniable authority. Each time he repeated the same preamble, a shiver ran through the assembly, signalling the imminence of a terrible verdict for Walburga. She, for her part, seemed to have lost all colour, her complexion becoming as pale as a ghost's, an image reinforced by the deep disarray evident on the face of Orion, her husband, who was shaking his head in a gesture of powerless denial.
"Three times you dared defy your lord," Arcturus continued, his voice becoming even graver, as the very space seemed to bend under the weight of his magic. "For your acts of rebellion, I disown you from our clan, stripping you of all titles, possessions, and rights. You cease to be a BLACK, to henceforth become Walburga Crabbe, daughter of Irma Crabbe."
No sooner had these words been spoken than Arcturus performed a theatrical gesture towards Walburga. She let out a piercing scream, an immeasurable pain apparent in her howl, as a wave of magic seemed to escape from her being to be absorbed by Arcturus. All, adults and children freed from the enchantment of diversion, watched, mouths agape, as the transformation took place. Walburga saw her hair discolour, her face adopt a more rugged shape and her eyes change from grey to the typical brown of the Crabb family. Walburga Black's identity was erased, her features becoming those characteristics of her new lineage.
"What have you done, you old fool?" Orion exclaimed, rising vehemently, indignation painted on his face as he seemed ready to throw himself at his father. "How dare you disinherit her like this? This will not go unpunished!"
"Enough!" thundered Arcturus, casting a chilling glance at his son. "Moderate your language, insolent, and address me as Lord Black! This is the third time you defy me, do not provoke me further, or you will share the same fate as your wife!"
Orion's blood ran cold at these words, the reality of his father's threat hitting him full force. The shadow of a potential excommunication now hung over him, a Damocles' sword threatening to cut him off from everything he had always known.
"Kreattur!" Arcturus Black's call resonated in the mansion with authority, and instantly, a popping sound announced the arrival of the house elf.
The old being, dressed in rags barely covering the essentials, stood there, his decrepit appearance betraying his great age. His drooping ears, his mischievous eyes framing a long-hooked nose, everything about him breathed centuries of servitude. His small size made him appear almost childlike next to Charles Weasley, his head barely emerging above the dining table.
"Has the Lord of the House called?" His voice, a mix of gravity and hissing, betrayed an unwavering loyalty. "Oh, yes, the great master has summoned his faithful Kreattur?"
"Kreattur, I decree that you shall no longer obey Orion and Walburga," commanded Arcturus, his voice filled with determination. "From now on, you will serve Sirius and his godson, Harry Potter. They will live here, just like you."
"My Lord?" Arcturus's questioning was tinged with manifest incredulity. "The Lord wishes Kreattur to serve the traitor?"
"Sirius is not a traitor, elf," retorted Arcturus with a hint of irritation. "He is my heir, just as his godson will be his. You will obey them, for they are your future masters."
Kreacher cast a disdainful glance at Sirius before setting his eyes on the young child his new master was holding in his arms. His expression softened at the sight of the child, an innate tenderness for the young shining in his gaze. Sirius, for his part, struggled to accept this new reality. He felt a strong aversion to Kreacher, mainly due to the elf's indifference during the difficult moments of his childhood, not to mention his boundless devotion to Regulus. Reflecting on his past pranks that had made Kreacher their recurring victim, Sirius wondered if these actions had not fuelled the elf's resentment. Perhaps he had never forgiven the spilled fudge bucket over his head or the jumping soap in the sink while he was doing the dishes? Nonetheless, an idea formed in Sirius's mind to appease Kreacher and win his acceptance.
"Kreacher," Sirius began with a gravity tinged with cautious hope, "my godson's name is Harry James Potter. He is my heir. He survived Voldemort, who is now dead by his hand! Don't you think that makes Harry a wizard of exceptional power? I firmly believe that the one who triumphed over the most formidable dark wizard of our time is entirely capable of taking the reins of the Black House, don't you?"
"Absolutely, nasty master," Kreacher agreed with a respectful nod. "Oh yes, the young master is very worthy, extremely worthy! Would you like to entrust the young master to Kreacher so Kreacher can take care of him? Kreacher perceives that the young master requires a diaper change and a good bottle, oh yes, Kreacher can smell it."
"I entrust him to you," Sirius consented, handing Harry to Kreacher, who clearly needed to be changed, a reality Sirius's nose did not fail to confirm. "Take good care of him, Kreacher."
"Yes, nasty master, Kreacher will take care of the young master with the utmost attention. He will become the greatest of the Black Lords, oh yes, Kreacher is convinced of that," the elf affirmed with evident devotion.
With a characteristic loud crash, Kreacher disappeared with Harry, leaving the witnesses of the scene astonished, only Walburga's sobs breaking the sudden silence.
"Be grateful that I do not expel you from Grimmauld Square," Arcturus said in a sharp and authoritative voice. "However, I confine you here for the rest of your days. One of my elves will prepare your meals without ever showing themselves. They will ensure the good order of this house but will remain invisible to your eyes. Your fireplace will remain operational, but I will be the only one to decide its use and who may cross the threshold of this dwelling. Now, leave!"
As soon as the word "leave" was pronounced, Orion and Walburga were swept out of the house by an elf, reappearing at Grimmauld Place. A heavy silence ensued, during which everyone seemed to measure the magnitude of the events, until Cygnus Black decided to break the silence.
"My uncle?" Cygnus questioned, his eyebrows furrowing in a sign of manifest disagreement. "Walburga certainly should never have acted that way, but to banish her seems an extreme reaction. She has always..."
"Silence, Cygnus!" Arcturus interrupted him sharply, his eyes shooting lightning bolts. "Walburga and Orion are not the only ones responsible for our decline. Of all those present, you are perhaps the one who has contributed the most to our fall."
"How dare you?" Cygnus exclaimed, his face paling under the weight of Arcturus's furious gaze. "What do you mean by that? I have always worked to keep our family at the top."
"In reality, you have done quite the opposite," Arcturus continued with a heavy gravity. "You sought to usurp my authority, to excommunicate your eldest daughter, whose offspring bore a metamorphmagus, the first in over a century. You hid the madness of your second daughter, forcibly marrying her to a man who repudiated her, attracting the Lestranges' scorn more than their esteem. You allowed her to tarnish our name by rallying to this so-called lord and financed his deeds without even seeking my opinion. Your only commendable act is the union of Narcissa with Lucius Malfoy, who has proved himself worthy of my niece," Arcturus concluded, as Cygnus seemed to crumble under his gaze.
"But the Dark Lord is right," Druella Rosier attempted to protest in a shrill and unpleasant voice. "The impure bloods have no place among us, with their innovative ideas. Muggles are inferior to us; they lack hygiene and do not..."
Her retort was abruptly cut off, her mouth continuing to move without any sound coming out. Druella quickly realized what was happening, her indignation reaching new heights, before crossing her arms, furious. Arcturus had applied the Silencing Charm, Silencio, to her, his face expressing even more marked disapproval.
"When this war broke out, I explicitly ordered our family to remain neutral," he continued in a threatening voice. "You both defied me by joining his cause, and even more so by financing his campaign of terror. As for your perception of Muggles, I am both disappointed and exasperated by such ignorance. Muggles are not the barbarians you imagine. I have had the opportunity to see this for myself. They certainly do not inspire affection in me, but I recognize that they have evolved much more rapidly than us, due to the absence of magic. They represent a far greater threat than you think. I remember the Grindelwald war, and especially the world war he helped to unleash by supporting that damned German."
The Black assembly remained silent, absorbing Arcturus's words with newfound attention, while Sirius, for his part, was shaken by his grandfather's knowledge of the Muggle world, realizing that the latter knew far more than he would have ever imagined.
"Your actions force me to take measures," Arcturus announced, his disgust palpable. "Bellatrix has become uncontrollable, to the point of refusing to appear before me and openly defying me. That is why I am going to put an end to this madness in the simplest way. I hereby declare Bellatrix Lestrange, born Black, daughter of Cygnus Black and Druella Black née Rosier, excluded from the Black family. I dissolve her marriage with the Lestranges, releasing them from any obligation and leaving them the dowry as compensation. From now on, she becomes simply Bellatrix Rosier, daughter of Druella Rosier."
As these words resonated, the magic surrounding them vibrated intensely. A distant scream was heard, as a spectral raven emerged in the room before flying off hastily, presumably in search of Bellatrix to remove the Black magic from her.
"You don't have the right to do this!" exclaimed Cygnus, terrified. "I refuse to accept such a decision!"
"You leave me no other option," Arcturus replied in an icy voice. "Druella and you will suffer the same fate as Orion and Walburga. You will be confined to your home, without any external contact. Now, leave!"
Immediately, a house elf appeared to transport them to their home, leaving behind a stunned assembly. Arcturus, scanning the faces around him, noted the resigned acceptance of the Weasleys and the astonishment of the others. Only Sirius seemed completely disconcerted, which greatly amused the patriarch.
"Now that we have rid ourselves of these nuisances, let's address the matter of your family," Arcturus said, turning to the Malfoys. "I am fully aware of the scheming at the Ministry. I will give you the benefit of the doubt, but be warned: at the slightest suspicion of betrayal to this false ideology, I will annul the marriage. Do you understand?"
"I assure you that my commitment to the Dark Lord was not of my own volition," Lucius attempted to justify, standing under the wary gaze of Sirius, Molly, and Arthur. "My father, may his soul rest in peace, was blinded by that impostor, forcing me to follow him. This does not justify my actions, but I will do everything to prove my loyalty."
"And if you started by pronouncing his name?" challenged Sirius, sceptical. "After all, only his followers call him 'the Dark Lord'."
"It's a habit," Lucius replied, before rolling up his sleeve to reveal an almost faded Dark Mark. "Unfortunately, this tattoo was enchanted to inflict pain on us every time his name is pronounced nearby."
"Ah? Voldemort!" exclaimed Sirius, putting Lucius to the test.
Before their eyes, the mark briefly flared up, causing Lucius to grimace in pain. Sirius nodded, reluctantly acknowledging the truth of Lucius's words. Although he did not like him, he could at least respect his honesty.
"As for Andromeda and her family," Arcturus continued as Lucius concealed his mark again, "it is time for you to reintegrate our clan. I wish for you to readopt the Black name, which will open many doors for your legal firm. Of course, a vault will be made available to you to meet your daily needs."
Andromeda and Ted exchanged a complicit look, nodding together. Their firm, "Tonks & Associates," would undoubtedly benefit from the prestige of the Black name, attracting a wealthier and more varied clientele. The offer of a vault also represented a significant advantage, given the Black family's usual generosity towards its members.
"It would be an honour, Lord Black," declared Ted, hand in hand with his wife. "We will strive to represent our family with dignity."
"Excellent," smiled Arcturus, turning to Nymphadora. "Young lady, I hope you will live up to your name, which means 'beloved daughter' in Greek. It proves the deep affection your parents have for you."
Nymphadora blushed slightly upon hearing her name, but nodded, a shy smile on her lips. Although she had always found her name difficult to bear due to its uniqueness, being associated with the Black name might now deter anyone from mocking her, thus avoiding attracting the wrath of the Black family.
Narcissa Malfoy watched with a discreet smile the joyful reaction of her sister Andromeda and her brother-in-law Ted, clearly delighted at the idea of reintegrating the prestigious Black name. She had long been aware of the obstacles their firm faced due to their surname being perceived as too "Muggle", but had never dared to intervene for fear of putting them in even more difficulty.
Arcturus, however, now turned his attention to the Weasley family, whose unity and simplicity seemed to pique his interest. At his glance, Molly and Arthur stood up, anticipating that the patriarch was about to address them.
"Arthur and Molly Weasley," Arcturus began with an unexpectedly warm tone. "Your family has long been stigmatised as blood traitors for your kindness towards Muggles. You have been ostracised, renounced by the Wizengamot and many noble families, to the point of losing your baronetcy title. Unlike many others, I have never viewed my cousin Cedrella's marriage to a Weasley as a betrayal, and I deeply regret the excommunication orchestrated by my father."
"We are aware of the trials we've faced," Arthur articulated, visibly moved. "My mother's exclusion was a harsh blow to us, significantly affecting our financial situation. Despite everything, we have persevered."
"And it is in recognition of your perseverance that I wish to offer you my support," continued Arcturus, causing a wave of general surprise. "While I cannot restore your former estate, now in the hands of the disappeared Peverells, I can nevertheless assure you financial aid. As members of the Black family, a vault will be allocated to you, accompanied by an annual sum intended to cover your needs."
"Lord Black, this seems excessive," Molly tried to protest, her eyes glistening with tears. "We cannot accept..."
"Would you refuse my generosity, to the point of offending me?" interrupted Arcturus, his tone becoming firmer. "I presume you will not finish that sentence."
Faced with Arcturus's inflexibility, Molly fell silent, nodding reluctantly, a timid but grateful smile lighting up her face. The idea of finally being able to provide her children with new clothes and improve their daily life brought her unexpected comfort. Arthur, for his part, displayed a sincere smile, understanding the positive impact this help would have on their lives, especially his position at the Ministry.
"We are infinitely grateful to you, Lord Black," expressed Arthur, beaming. "Your act of kindness honours us, and we pledge to make you proud of this decision."
Arcturus responded with an appreciative nod, his gaze falling on the Weasley children, especially on William, whose smile betrayed his joy at the thought of no longer wearing second-hand robes to Hogwarts. He also noted the bright spark of intelligence in Percival's eyes, sensing in him a future valuable member of the Black family.
"It is time to close this assembly," concluded Arcturus. "You are free to retire."
The Malfoys, Weasleys, and Tonks-Blacks took their leave, respectfully saluting Arcturus and Sirius before leaving the premises. Alone in her corner, Lucretia, an overlooked spectator of these events, finally stood up, a mischievous smile on her lips. She had taken a wicked pleasure in attending this meeting, especially in witnessing the banishment of her sister-in-law, for whom she held little affection.
"Well, father," exclaimed the woman with evident enthusiasm, "you really didn't disappoint me today. Between the surprises, the twists, and all these announcements, I will be savouring them for a long time. As for you, my dear nephew, I hope you fully realise the magnitude of the responsibilities that now rest on your shoulders. If you ever encounter any issue with a stubborn wizard, do not hesitate to seek my help."
Without giving Sirius or Arcturus time to react, she left the room with determined steps, leaving the two men alone. Arcturus settled comfortably and gestured for Sirius to take a seat beside him.
"So, what is your decision?" he asked directly, without beating around the bush.
"I choose to stay, grandfather," Sirius replied, a timid smile forming on his lips. "I'm convinced that Harry and I will find our place here, but there's one thing that concerns me…"
"And that is?" Arcturus raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
"You didn't mention Regulus, and I know he's gone. He is dead, isn't he?" Sirius's question was tinged with sadness.
"Indeed, your brother died about six months ago. His disappearance was recorded on our family tapestry in an unexpected manner. I have tried to locate the place of his death, without success," Arcturus admitted in a grave tone.
It was at this moment that Kreacher made a sudden appearance, surprising the two wizards.
"Lord Black? Kreacher knows the circumstances of poor master Regulus's death."
"Were you spying on us?" Sirius frowned. "Where is Harry?"
"The young master is sleeping, nasty master," replied Kreacher. "Elves always listen to their masters, and Kreacher wishes to reveal the truth about master Regulus's tragic fate."
"Then speak, elf," commanded Arcturus in an imperious voice.
Kreacher then recounted the story of Regulus Black, the cursed locket hidden at Grimmauld Place, and his sad fate, dragged under the waters by inferi, unable to intervene due to Regulus's orders. Stunned by these revelations, Sirius and Arcturus asked to see the locket. The elf quickly returned, presenting a heavy locket adorned with a letter S surrounded by small green stones.
Sirius instinctively recoiled, feeling the nefarious aura of the object, which reminded him of his godson's exorcised horcrux. Reluctantly, he took it in hand, confirming his suspicions. Arcturus, observing Sirius's reaction, felt a malevolent presence emanating from the jewel but was unaware of its exact nature. Recognising the locket as having belonged to Hepzibah Smith, whose death had always seemed suspicious to him, he listened attentively as Sirius explained the recent events at St Mungo's.
"Tomorrow, we'll go to Gringotts to consult their curse-breakers," Arcturus decided. "We'll also take the opportunity to check our family accounts and search for a possible Potter will."
"Shouldn't we go to the Department for Titles, Wills and Inheritances at the Ministry?" Sirius questioned.
"There's a branch of that department at Gringotts, operating in collaboration with the bank, as inheritances are often tied to vaults," Arcturus explained. "I suggest you use the rest of the day to gather your belongings and Harry's. Your room awaits you near mine."
"And what about cats? Do you still dislike them as much?" teased Sirius, a mischievous smile on his lips.
"Why do you ask?" Arcturus inquired, perplexed.
Sirius only responded with a smile, already anticipating his grandfather's reaction to seeing Minnie. Arcturus, for his part, already sensed the complications to come.
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And here's a generated image for the room
