Storytime with Rachel F Hundred

21^st December 1988

The small muggle bungalow on Wisteria Walk has become a home away from home for Melania Black in a way that she would never have thought possible before the end of the Second Wizarding War when she’d been trapped behind the walls of Castle Black.

She adores the two boys who lived in the bungalow. She might dream occasionally of having Sirius and Harry at the Castle, but they are safer where they are, under the protection of the strongest magical wards that Lily Potter had been able to construct.

Sirius has added to those and set-up wards of his own around the bungalow itself. Her grandson takes the protection of his godson seriously – no pun intended. The wards sing with his magic, the legacy of his Black blood and her own family’s line – the line of Mallt-y-nos, the Mother of the Hunt. 

It is a heavy legacy to carry.

Melania knows because she has lived with the Wild Hunt under her own skin since birth. Her heart will sometimes beat with the rhythm of horses in full gallop. Her spirit sometimes rides with the Hunt in her dreams.

Melania takes a deep breath.

Passed down from daughter to daughter, the weight of the full legacy was never meant to be hers. Her older sister Lucia had been the heir. She had been as forceful a witch as their mother: brilliantly powerful and gifted. Larger than life.

Melania had been destined for the life of a second daughter; a suitable marriage to a powerful heir to an Ancient and Noble House. She was to be socially well-placed, a witch with influence, certainly, but not one expected to lead by her own merits. Melania knows herself well-enough to know that she might have protested against that destiny if not for the fact that she had truly fallen in love with Arcturus.

Lucia and her family had died towards the end of Grindelwald’s terror in a magical explosion that the muggles had written off to a bombing raid.  They never had found out who was responsible, but Melania suspected a Grindelwald sycophant. Melania had woken from her sleep with the Hunt’s magic burning with rage through her blood and the vision of her sister’s death fresh in her mind.

She’d struggled in the years afterwards to reconcile the seismic shift in her magic, abandoning her family in search of help. She and Arcturus had travelled often, going abroad to visit Healer after Healer who had all said the same thing; meditation and control were the only answers to the chaos. Finally, one Healer had suggested that an heir would help; an heir would share the burden of it and so make the magic stabilise.

Neither of her two children carried the legacy. They’d been born before Lucia’s death free of the Hunt.

It had been just as well since they’d returned from abroad and found that Lucretia, her daughter, had emigrated to the States with her husband when it became clear that they both had been cursed with infertility.

In hindsight, Melania suspects Walburga’s hand in it. Her poisonous daughter-in-law hadn’t wanted any potential rivals for her future children. Which made Walburga’s attitude to her eldest child mindboggling because she’d despised Sirius from the moment of his birth.

Sirius.

Melania’s gaze drifts to the other side of the kitchen where Sirius is making tea. Beside her in the breakfast nook, Arcturus huffs.

“I don’t understand why you can’t have an elf here to help you,” Arcturus says.

It is an old argument between the men.

Sirius will call upon the Black elves occasionally, but he won’t have an elf live at Wisteria Walk.

Melania blames Walburga again. Sirius’ mother had used Kreacher to torture Sirius as a child and it has left lasting scars.

It is the deepest regret of Melania’s life that she and Arcturus had not realised the systematic abuse Walburga had rained down on her powerful firstborn. Melania fears that Walburga’s hatred of Sirius might have been a subconscious response to the way the Hunt magic sang in his blood. Melania has always seen the Grim lurking under his skin.

Sirius’ birth had begun the stabilisation of Melania’s own magic. The Healer had been right – having an heir to share the burden had helped. Moreso because Sirius is powerful in his own right. It is little wonder to Melania that their family legacy has embraced him fully.

Maybe Walburga had sensed the Hunt magic somehow and considered it a usurpation of her child. Perhaps she had thought that the Fey had swapped out a child of her blood for a chameleon because in some ways by settling into Sirius’s magic, the legacy had done just that.

Or maybe Walburga had just been a bitch.

Melania knows from Arcturus’ interrogation of Walburga after Sirius had run to Flea and Mia that the witch had wanted to kill her eldest to install Regulus as the heir to the House of Black.

Honestly, Melania still thinks Orion was drugged into his marriage. Or maybe she prefers to think that rather than concede that the sweet little boy who had been her son, had grown into a selfish and arrogant wizard who thought with his dick and got himself branded as a slave to a Dark Lord. She mourns Orion, but she doesn’t miss him, just as she mourns Lucretia cut off contact years before.

She’s a terrible mother. Not as bad nor as terrible as Walburga, but terrible.

Melania represses the urge to sigh. She really doesn’t have time for the introspection she’s fallen into, she muses, but how can she not be introspective on a night when she will lead a magical circle to try to heal Alice Longbottom.

It has been a long time since Melania has been part of a magical circle and she has never led one.

She remembers her mother’s when she had been a little girl. It had been twenty-one strong: seven crones, seven mothers, seven maidens. Lucia had inherited the circle after their mother’s passing. Some of the witches had left, bowing out due to age or because their participation was based on the friendship with their mother. In the end, there had been three crones, three mothers, and three maidens.

Melania had left when she had married Arcturus. She had told the others that did not feel right to lead the circle immediately after Lucia’s death to hide her own struggle with accepting the legacy.

After Sirius was born and entrenched in the Hunt’s magic, Melania had revelled in the freedom to live a little without her own magic feeling chaotic. She and Arcturus had gone travelling across the world again, but for fun rather than healing. Her visions had grown less frequent until she’d rarely had one. When they’d returned, they’d realised Orion and Walburga had taken too much advantage of their absence. That Tom Riddle had taken too much advantage of their absence. The allies sworn to the House of Black were suddenly in Voldemort’s pocket.

They’d immediately focused on trying to sort that mess out and in the middle of their efforts Sirius had sought refuge with the Potters.

Of all the things they’d missed when travelling there is nothing Melania regrets more than missing that Walburga was abusing Sirius.

They’d grown complacent, Melania thinks tiredly, and even knowing their error, they had erred again in leaving Sirius with Flea and Mia; in not doing enough to reassure their grandson that he was loved and wanted.

She hadn’t just been a terrible mother, she had been a terrible grandmother, Melania thinks with wry self-deprecation.

They had ensured Regulus was safe and perhaps they might have done more to reassure Sirius, but she had suddenly had the worst vision of her life.

She’d seen the demise of the House of Black. She’d seen her own poisoning, Arcturus lost in grief, and Voldemort leading the rest of their House into depravity.

Except for Sirius.   

She’d seen Sirius lost to his own grief amid the ruins of a street, followed by years spent locked up unfairly in Azkaban. Worse she’d seen him dying at Bellatrix’s hand, sent into the Veil, and with his death, the death of the Hunt’s legacy. She’d seen how magic had faded from the world until there was none.

Melania had determined that retreat behind the walls of Castle Black had been the only recourse. It had saved her and Arcturus, and she likes to think that it has given them a second chance; that it has made a difference in setting up a rather different board for the future.

She’s worked hard to make sure it has set up a very different board for Sirius.

She still wonders why she hadn’t Seen Harry. Arcturus thinks it is because Harry was not her vision to See. She might agree with that if they hadn’t learned that the originator of the prophecy that had sent the Potters and Longbottoms into hiding was Sybil Trelawney.

As far as Melania knew the witch was nothing but a drunk fraud.

The mop-haired boy she has come to adore stands beside Sirius helping to make tea with the enthusiasm of a child. He shines to her magical eye, vibrant with power and with the mark of Fate across his brow.

“Hello!”

Minerva’s Scottish brogue breaks Melania’s captivation with Harry. She takes a deep breath as they turn to the kitchen door to greet the new arrival.

Minerva sweeps in, hugging Harry and Sirius without any hint of hesitation. Harry escorts her to the kitchen table.

Sirius follows and puts the tea tray down in the centre. There is a pot of good tea, a pot of additional hot water, cups and saucers, a bowl of sugar cubes, a jug of milk, a jar of sliced lemons, and a plate of mishappen sugar biscuits clumsily decorated with Christmas themes.

Harry beams proudly as Minerva praises them both for their efforts

Melania wishes she had Minerva’s easy confidence in doing so. She catches Sirius’ eye and gives him an approving nod.

Sirius’ ears flush red giving away his pleasure. “Why don’t you play Mother?”

Melania concedes and waves a hand at the teapot and cups. They immediately began to sort themselves across the table, the pot following pouring steadily.

“You managed to get away alright?” Sirius asks, turning to Minerva.

Minerva sniffs imperiously. “He questioned whether I should even visit since his monitoring spells have been quiet.”

Sirius grins. “Good to know the modifications I’ve done catch anything that might trigger them.”

Minerva arches her eyebrow. “He also said that I shouldn’t visit because my previous visits have seen no issues with how Harry is being raised by the Dursleys.”

Harry’s green eyes are bright with amusement. “Well, Aunt Petunia is doing a good job of raising me.”

“Oy!” Sirius pokes Harry who giggles and squirms away.

“I yield! I yield!” Harry laughs. “You’re the best parent ever! You never make me get a haircut!”

Sirius preens. “And don’t you forget it!” He pauses. “Just don’t tell your Aunt, she’ll get huffy.” He turns to Minerva. “Will you be alright watching over the Dursleys this evening? We don’t think what we’re doing will spill over, but it would be best to have you here to divert Dumbledore just in case.”

“I’m happy to watch over them,” Minerva says firmly. She turns to Melania. “Remus was a little cryptic in his letter. Perhaps you can walk me through exactly what is going to happen?”

Melania nods briskly. “At nine o’clock this evening, we will gather in the garden here to perform a circle ritual to hopefully restore Alice Longbottom’s health.”

Minerva’s eyes widen. “Is that possible?”

“Black magic harmed her,” Arcturus replies gravely. “We believe that the ritual will help unwind what Bellatrix did.”

“How exactly?” asks Minerva, placing her cup back into her saucer.

“There is a lot of magic imbued in the winter solstice,” Melania says, “magic my line is deeply familiar with.”

Minerva nods slowly. “I think most of us have forgotten that you’re not only the Lady Black, but also the High Witch of the Hunt.”

Melania smiles. “Your mother was part of my mother’s circle.”

Minerva inclines her head. “She left when Lucia took over. She said it was time for new blood.” Her eyes shine with curiosity. “Are you reinstating the Hunt circle?”

“Not as such,” Melania demurs, “this ritual is a trifold knot of the Hunt magic, the Black magic, and the Longbottoms.’ Three of the Hunt, three of the Black, three of the Longbottoms.”

“Who will assume the third position for the Hunt?” asks Minerva, her brow furrowing.

“Me!” Harry says cheerily. “One of my ancestors was a Peverell. They made a deal with Death.”

Minerva shoots Sirius a look. “That’s a children’s tale.”

“Ah, not exactly,” Sirius shrugs. “The Potters never advertised it, but there was some truth to the tale. There is just enough of the Peverell legacy left in Harry for him to have resonance with the Hunt.”

Minerva hums. “Then the ritual will rely on the Hunt to power it, the Black to unravel what was done, and the Longbottom to ground it.”

“That’s what the Arithmancy says,” quips Sirius, raising his cup at her summary.

“Originally we thought we’d do this at the Castle, or at the Reach,” Melania continues briskly. “However, Remus believes that the wards here might provide additional protection especially as Lily and Alice were so close.”

“They were best friends all the way through Hogwarts,” Minerva agrees. “Lily’s magic may very well shelter Alice.”

“It will,” Harry says, his chin rising with a stubbornness Melania had often seen in the Potters. “Neville says being beneath the wards here is like being under a warm blanket.”

Sirius smoothes a hand through Harry’s hair, and Harry accepts the comfort instead of twisting away and protesting as he’s started to do.

“It’s very good you and Neville have become friends this past year,” Minerva says approvingly, reaching for a biscuit decorated like a cat.

“He’s really cool,” Harry says. “He knows everything about plants. He’s hoping to come to school with Dudley and me next year.”

Minerva shoots a questioning look at Sirius who shrugs again.

“Frank thinks it would be a good idea,” Sirius says. “Neville’s been quite isolated at the Reach, and apparently, he’s hated Frank’s first solution for socialising him more by homeschooling him with the Weasleys…”

Melania can’t help the snort that escapes.

“Hates it,” Harry repeats in a stealthy whisper to her.  

Sirius chides them both with a side look for the interruption. “School might be a good compromise, especially as he, Dudley and Harry get along brilliantly.”

Minerva frowns and waves a biscuit at Sirius. “He could hire Remus to tutor now he’s back in England if it’s not going well with the Weasleys.”

“Yes, if only Remus hadn’t made me promise that I wouldn’t suggest it to Frank,” Sirius says brightly.

Minerva smiles sharply. “How fortunate I have made no such promise.”

“I really don’t know how you two Sorted to Gryffindor. You would have made good Slytherins,” Arcturus points out dryly.

Minerva harrumphs, but her eyes glitter with amusement. “When is everybody else arriving?”

“Soon,” Sirius conjures the time and grimaces. “In fact, we should start to get ready.”

Melania watches as he hustles Harry out of the room and towards the bathroom. They all need to bathe ahead of the ritual.

Minerva regards her thoughtfully. “You know there are many of the old crowd who would happily rejoin the Hunt circle if it was reconstituted.”

Arcturus shoots her a look which is more ‘I told you so’ than anything else.

Melania sighs. “Let’s see how tonight goes first.” She grimaces. “If we cannot undo what was done with this ritual, I may need a full circle of witches instead.”

Minerva regards her thoughtfully. “You know it is not your responsibility to heal Alice. Bellatrix is the only one at fault for what happened.”

“Perhaps not,” Melania accepts, “but Bellatrix was a part of our family, for better or worse. We should make a full attempt at trying to repair the damage she did.”

“We should have done more when it happened,” Arcturus reaches for Melania’s hand and clasps it on top of the table. “There was just rather a lot to sort out back then.”

“I doubt Frank would have let you,” Minerva picks up her abandoned cup and takes a sip. “He pushed many of us away in the aftermath. I hate that it took his uncle trying to kill Neville for him to stop, but it is good that Frank finally took notice of how isolated they’d become. Maybe this is just the right time.”

Melania leans against the comforting bulk of her husband. “Let’s hope.”

o-O-o

Melania’s gaze is affixed to where the Longbottoms are huddled around Alice who lies sedated on the sofa in Sirius’ living room.

Arcturus shifts beside Melania, fidgeting with the high collar of his white ritual robe. “Always hated these things.”

“You look dashing,” Melania says softly.

Arcturus flushes pink and smiles. “And you look beautiful.”

Melania smiles as he raises her hand and kisses her knuckles. She’s still very much in love with him. Even now with more grey hairs than black, with age lining his face, and changing his youthful body to a sturdier broader version. He’s still the same principled but traditional man she had married; ruthless where his family is concerned, yet with a generous heart under the cool façade. Still the man who loves her back.

“It is a shame Regulus cannot be part of this,” Arcturus mutters, glancing towards Harry. “He might be a better third for the Hunt magic.”

Finding Regulus was alive had been an enormous relief, but he has proven to be every bit as stubborn as Sirius. He’s set on making amends before he resumes his life as a Black; has refused regular contact with any of them, but most specifically his brother.

Yet it had been Sirius who had been the one to suggest the solution they’ve come to in the end.

Regulus is safely ensconced at Grimmauld Place with Kreacher. He’s safe except for his self-appointed mission to hunt down and destroy You-Know-Who’s horcruxes. Merlin knows it had been bad enough dealing with the leech in Harry, they’d all been horrified to find out there were many more. At least they know the one Regulus had risked his life for is destroyed.    

“I rather think the Hunt magic already knows that Harry is Sirius’ heir,” Melania says quietly.

Arcturus sighs. “Sirius asked permission to blood adopt Harry on the lad’s next birthday. He wants to tell him for his Christmas present.”

“You said yes,” Melania says confidently.

She’s not surprised.

Sirius loves Harry completely and already regards him as his son. She thinks the only reason why Sirius hasn’t already adopted Harry is because of his lingering loyalty to James Potter.

“Of course, I said yes,” Arturus replies. “Harry will be a boon to the House of Black.” He pauses. “He already is.”

Melania smiles as she leans over and kisses him.

There is a sharp whistle through the room which arrests everyone’s attention.

Sirius stands in the doorway and claps his hands. “Everyone, we should make our way to the garden.”

Andromeda places an arm around a very excited Nymphadora and leads her out.

Melania watches as Frank carefully picks up his robe-clad wife. Augusta holds Neville’s hand as they follow.

Sirius and Harry fall into step behind them.

Arcturus offers Melania his arm and she takes it.

When they step out into the crisp cold air of the winter night, the ground is warm beneath their bare feet.

Sirius has prepared the garden well. In the middle of the lawn there is a circle of white candles, already lit and burning.

Frank places his wife down into the centre of the space on the white wool blanket that awaits her.

Melania takes her place at due North. She waits as the others join the circle. Arcturus by her side, Augusta to his left. Sirius is next, then Andromeda. Frank kisses his wife one last time and takes his place beside Andromeda. Harry steps up beside Frank, Nymphadora beside him, and a nervous looking Neville closes the circle.

Melania breathes in.

Wind chimes sound signalling the hour has struck nine.

It is time.

They all join hands at her signal.

“We come together in this circle with common cause to heal our kin in spirit, in magic, in blood, Alice Longbottom,” Melania begins, “to give the promise of a second chance at life and love with her family.”

Snow begins to fall from the night sky. The air stills as though holding its breath.

“I am Melania, the Mother of the Hunt. I call upon its power,” Melania states firmly.

Sirius is next to speak. “I am Padfoot, the Grim of the Hunt. I call upon its power.” He turns to look at Harry.

Harry’s green eyes gaze shifts to Alice. “I am Harry, the last Peverell, Friend of the Hunt. I call upon its power.”

Melania nods. “So have we called, so shall it be.”

Power swirls into being in the centre of the circle, a gold ball of energy above Alice, dancing and shimmering with light.

Arcturus’ grip is strong on her hand. “I am Arcturus, Lord Wizard of the House of Black. I call upon the magic of our House to undo what was done by a daughter of our blood.”

“I am Andromeda, Healer of the House of Black. I call upon the magic of our House to undo what was done by the sister of my blood,” Andromeda recites gravely.

Her daughter seeks her mother’s gaze. “I am Nymphadora, Maiden of the House of Black. I call upon the magic of our House to undo what was done by a witch of our blood.”

Snow is falling heavily around the circle, but it does not fall within it.

“So have we called,” Arcturus states, “so shall it be.”

At his last word, the gold ball dives down and surrounds Alice. She arches upwards, suspended above the ground.

Augusta shifts. “I am Augusta, the Crone of the House of Longbottom. I call upon the magic of our House to heal the Mother of our House.”

Frank nods at his mother. “I am Franklin, the Lord Wizard of the House of Longbottom. I call upon the magic of our House to heal the Mother of our House, my heart in magic.”

“I am Neville,” he looks fiercely at his mother, his small face set with determination, “the Son of the House of Longbottom. I call upon the magic of our House to heal the Mother of our House, my own mother in blood and magic.”

Augusta nods decisively. “So have we called, so shall it be.”

Alice visibly takes a breath and arches once more before the magic settles her on the ground before rising above her, up and up, and…it falls down in a rush transforming from gold to white and as it hits the ground it builds upwards into a ghostly form.

A beautiful white doe stands beside Alice.

Across the circle, Sirius looks pale and shocked.

The doe trots over first to him.

“Lily,” Sirius breathes out.

The doe presses her nose against his heart before she leaves him for her son.

“Mummy,” Harry’s softly spoken word brings tears to Melania’s eyes.

She can feel his want to touch the doe, but she knows he won’t break their circle. She wishes he could.

Instead, the doe does the same as she did to Sirius, pressing her nose up against Harry’s heart.

They watch as she heads to Neville and bows. Neville bows his head back, surprise written all over his expressive face.

Finally, the doe trots over to Alice and presses her nose to Alice’s heart. When she raises her head, she looks one final time towards Harry and disappears.

On the blanket, Alice takes an audible deep breath.

Melania blinks back her tears. “Magic of the Hunt, of the House of Black, of the House of Longbottom, we thank you for hearing our call and granting this second chance to Alice, who is worthy of this healing. Our circle is complete.”

As soon as she finishes, there is a snap of wind through the garden, plastering their robes against their bodies.

Frank darts into the centre where Alice is beginning to move. Neville hovers uncertainly and Augusta hurries over to him.

Sirius, Melania notes, wastes no time in bounding over to Harry and wrapping him up in a hug. Andromeda waits with Nymphadora.

Arcturus squeezes Melania’s hand.

Alice suddenly sits up. She looks down at her white thin robe and at the sky where the snow is falling. Her eyes land next on her delighted husband before racing around the garden. Her gaze stops at Neville and she starts to struggle to her feet…

Neville tears himself away from Augusta, running the few paces across the grass to throw himself into his mother’s outstretched arms. Frank’s arms circle them both as they all sink back to the ground, holding each other and sobbing.

Melania breathes in with satisfaction.

“We’ve done well,” Arcturus murmurs quietly.

Melania nods. She looks again through the gently falling snow towards Sirius and Harry who are both beaming with wet eyes of their own at the reunited family.

She has been a terrible mother, and a worse grandmother, Melania considers, remembering her earlier thoughts. But she is trying to do better with her own second chance. She’ll protect her boys just as fiercely as Lily Potter. She can do no less than that.

Something snags her attention at the far side of the garden just behind Sirius and Harry…

There in the curtain of snow is the ghostly forms of a white stag and a doe beside him and…

The snow continues falling.

 Melania blinks it out of her eyes and…

They’re gone.

Gone, but not forgotten, Melania thinks determinedly as Arcturus urges her to leave the garden, following the others as they make their way inside.

She has made her promise, and she will keep it.

fin.

Next story: A Promise of a Legacy

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