Storytime with Rachel F Hundred

December 1989

Arcturus apparates onto the doorstep of Grimmauld Place and quickly checks that his arrival has gone unnoticed by any of the muggles in the surrounding houses. There are strong wards that cocoon Grimmauld in a magical bubble which should disguise his arrival, but Arcturus has learned not to leave things to chance.

He raps on the front door with his cane. While he could just enter as the Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, he is respectful that he has given the home to Regulus to live in. It is good to see his missing grandson settled back into his childhood home. Regulus is certainly more appreciative of the house’s legacy than his older brother.

Sirius had wanted nothing to do with it after Walburga’s passing and, in truth, Arcturus cannot blame his heir for the sentiment. The house represents a place of torture and misery for Sirius at the hands of his parents. Arcturus wants to blame Walburga entirely for the abuse and neglect Sirius had suffered, but his own late son bears some blame.

He and Melania bear some blame too, Arcturus thinks tiredly. They had been abroad much of Sirius’ childhood and by the time they’d returned and realised…it was too late. Sirius had found comfort and belonging with the Potters and viewed anyone with the name Black with suspicion. Well, beyond Alphard who had tried to help the young boy, and Andromeda who had fallen in love with a muggleborn and revised her own view of their family’s politics and love of tradition.

Things had gone from bad to worse because of Tom Riddle’s descent into madness since he’d taken much of the Black family with him. Melania had received a vision warning her of their family’s demise beginning with Melania’s own death at the hands of Bellatrix.  To save his wife, Arcturus had retreated with her behind the walls of Castle Black and he did not regret it.

They had survived.

Bellatrix, Riddle’s most fervent supporter in the family, was dead. Sirius had killed her when she had attacked the Longbottoms. She’d injured Sirius badly in the attack and Arcturus knows his grandson still bears the scar she gave him.

The news of Sirius being hospitalised because of Bellatrix had galvanised Melania to seek out their grandson. She’d found him grief-stricken from losing the Potters and frantic about the fate of his godson. Helping Sirius gain custody of little Harry and ruining whatever scheme Dumbledore had cooked up in trying to keep the boy from his wizarding heritage had helped Arcturus and Melania build a new relationship with Sirius.

Fatherhood has tamed Sirius’ reckless streak from Gryffindor brashness into Slytherin cunning. Sirius might pull a face at the idea, but he is an excellent Slytherin under his Gryffindor skin, Arcturus muses. Certainly Sirius has handled Regulus’ return and his refusal to see Sirius with a surprising amount of grace and equanimity.

It had been Sirius’ idea for Regulus to hide out at Grimmauld. As Sirius had pointed out, they’d been in the process of shutting down the house which made it a perfect spot to stow his younger brother. Moreover Regulus does not have the traumatic memories of Grimmauld which haunt Sirius. With a newly restored Kreacher returned from his healing retreat, Regulus is well taken care of in his old childhood home.

It is Kreacher who opens the door to Arcturus, his large ears waggling with nerves at the sight of Arcturus. He casts a look at the black case Arcturus carries but steps hurriedly aside to let him in.

Arcturus taps his cane on the doorstep as he enters. In the hallway with the door closed against the cold wind, he divests himself of his heavy woollen outer robe and smoothes a hand over his deep blue wizarding day robe buttoned tightly down his front. His white woollen shirt and blue cravat peak out at the collar. His woollen suit trousers match with his robe exactly and can be seen through the side splits which allow him movement. He likes to think his black knee high dragonhide boots give him a rakish air, although they are frankly a pain to pull on and off.

Kreacher hovers. “Master Regulus is meeting with a guest in the study.”

Arcturus raises his grey busy eyebrows. “Inform Regulus I am here and waiting in the parlour. Fetch me some tea, Kreacher.”  

Kreacher pops away.

Arcturus heads into the small front parlour. He leaves the door open. He’ll be able to see Regulus’ visitor exit and while he trusts Regulus not to bring someone to Grimmauld who would compromise the family, knowledge is power.

There is a cosy fire burning away in the hearth. Newly redecorated by Melania, the parlour has comfortable sofa and chairs in a deep sea green with the wallpaper in a matching paisley pattern. The picture above the fireplace is one of Castle Black and Arcturus notes wistfully how much he would rather be home than at Grimmauld. At least the room is impeccably clean.

Arcturus sets his case on a walnut side table and sits down in the chair closest to the fire. Ever since his brush with dragon flu he gets cold far too easily.

Kreacher pops back with the tea tray. He bows deeply and pops away again at Arcturus’ dismissal. The warm brew is a welcome refreshment and Arcturus allows himself a moment to relax as he takes his first sip.

Voices rouse him from his contemplation of his drink. Arcturus frowns as he recognises both the cultured tone of his grandson and the deeper brogue of Severus Snape. The wizard had worked hard to remove the West Midland tinge from his voice but Arcturus still hears it. He shifts, standing to move into the doorway just as the two younger men draw parallel. They both come to an abrupt halt at the sight of him, Regulus pausing mid-sentence.

“Grandfather!” Regulus recovers quickly to greet him with a worried smile. “I’m just showing Severus out, I’ll be with you in a moment.”

“Regulus,” Arcturus nods at him. He turns his silver gaze to Snape and takes in his oily appearance in one cold sweep. Does the man never wash his hair? The lanky black strands fall around a sallow face saddled with a hook nose and sunken eyes. His black robes are austere and well-maintained and are his only saving grace. “Professor Snape.”

Snape bows his head. “Lord Black.”

Arcturus hums and steps back. “I’ll leave you to your goodbyes.” He makes his way back to his chair but listens as the two men resume their conversation.

“I will message you once I’ve spoken with the Grey Lady, but I warn you it could take some time,” Snape says lowly, clearly hoping that his words will not carry into the parlour. “She is not fond of Slytherins.”

“Thank you for trying, Severus,” Regulus answers. “Have a good Christmas.”

There is an audible huff followed by the sound of the front door opening and closing.

Regulus walks into the parlour a moment later, sinking into the opposite chair with graceful ease. He looks good. His complexion sports a hint of pink along his sharp cheekbones and the Black silver eyes sparkle with vitality. His black hair is swept back into a low ponytail.  He’s dressed in an outfit that is not too unlike Arcturus’ own.

“I didn’t expect you today, Grandfather,” Regulus says politely.

Arcturus hums. He rather suspects that he would never have run into Snape if he’d given Regulus forewarning. “Can you trust your friend to keep your confidences?”

Regulus grimaces. “We have a relationship based on mutually assured destruction and I trust in Severus’ want never to return to Azkaban and his desire to one day leverage himself free of Dumbledore.”

Arcturus inclines his head. He can believe that Snape wants out from under the oaths he had no doubt sworn to the Headmaster. Albus is a strategist. Arcturus doubts that he would have fought so hard for Snape to receive the most minimum of jail terms and at Hogwarts for nothing less than complete obedience and loyalty. He knows Minerva waged a small rebellion against Albus to manoeuvre him into ensuring Snape developed his teaching skills and curbed his attitude. She had even stepped in and forced Albus to back down from appointing Snape the Head of Slytherin House the year before. The position instead had gone to the Astronomy Professor, Aurora Sinistra.

“Is that…?” Regulus points at the case.

“The horcrux Bellatrix had,” Arcturus confirms. “The Goblins finally finished their audit of her vault. They called me this morning to examine the vault ready for it to be handed over to the Longbottoms.”

Regulus wrinkles his nose. “We’re really handing over the rest of the contents to them?”

“It was Alice suing the Lestranges that gave us this opportunity,” Arcturus says mildly. There is a hint of remonstration in his tone which causes Regulus to flush.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Regulus says stiffly.

Arcturus sighs and sips his tea. “Your mother’s teachings will not aid you when you rejoin society.”

“Maybe I’ll just disappear abroad,” Regulus mutters.

Arcturus simply raises his grey-speckled eyebrows at his grandson. “Your brother would be disappointed to hear that.”

“He’d be fine about it,” Regulus says moodily.

“Sirius misses you, Regulus,” Arcturus chides him as gently as he can.

Regulus stares back at him challengingly. “If he misses me so much, why doesn’t he ever visit?”

“You set the boundaries when you returned to us,” Arcturus points out exasperatedly. “You said you didn’t want to see him. Sirius is trying to respect that.”

Regulus flushes and looks down at his knees. “I thought he’d ignore me and come visit anyway.”

“He might have done in the past,” Arcturus allows, “but he’s grown-up a lot since you last saw him. He’s a father now.”

“Godfather,” Regulus retorts.

“Father,” Arcturus corrects. “He adopted Harry in July.”

Regulus looks at him incredulously. “And you allowed that?!”

“Harry is a boon to the House of Black,” Arcturus states firmly.

“But he’s a half-blood!”

Arcturus sighs heavily. “Toujour Purs is purity in magic not blood, Regulus, no matter what your mother said. Harry is a powerful wizard and a wonderful addition to the family.”

“And where does that leave me?” asks Regulus. “I thought when I rejoined society I would be heir again and…”

Arcturus raises his hand. “You were never the Black heir, Regulus. Who ever told you…” he closes his eyes briefly and blows out a breath. “Your mother.”

Regulus’ expression is one of confusion.

Arcturus wishes Melania was with him. His wife would be able to navigate the conversation much better than he is able to do.

“When Orion was Marked, I made Sirius my heir formally,” Arcturus says, “and I never rescinded that.”

Regulus huddles back into the chair, blinking. “But Mother…” he swallows hard. “She said that Sirius would be Grandmother’s heir and I would be yours.”

“Sirius has power enough for both,” Arcturus says. “Neither is your destiny.”

Regulus sighs and rubs his forehead as though he has a headache. “Then what is my destiny?”

“Perhaps the wizard who defeats Riddle,” Arcturus offers. “You are a powerful and capable wizard, Regulus. You’ve already defied him to eliminate the first of his anchors you knew about it. Last year, you somehow managed to convince your cousin to offer up the one placed in Malfoy’s care…” he rather suspected that Regulus had stressed the impact of the artefact’s dark magic on Narcissa’s young son, “and we now have this one even if we did have to go the convoluted route of having the Longbottoms sue the Lestrange estate for Bellatrix’s vault as recompense.”

Regulus ducks his head.

“Whatever your destiny, whatever your legacy,” Arcturus continues, “you are our grandson, part of our family. Your place is with us always.”

Regulus looks up sharply and meets his eyes fully. There is a long beat of silence between them and Arcturus can almost see Regulus turning over the assurance in his mind.

Arcturus does not blame Regulus for his hesitancy to trust in Arcturus’ words. Walburga might not have abused Regulus in the way she had Sirius, but Regulus has also suffered in different ways from the benign neglect he and Melania had perpetrated.

They are making strides to do better, Arcturus reminds himself. The path he and Melania have set themselves upon since the war ended is one of redemption; of doing better by their family.

“Thank you, Grandfather,” Regulus says quietly.

Arcturus sets his teacup down. “I’ll leave you to it. I should get back before your Grandmother sends out a search party. Let me know if you need any assistance destroying the cup.” He gestures at the bag.

Regulus stands up when Arcturus pushes himself out of his chair. “Grandfather…”

Arcturus sends him a questioning glance.

“Perhaps you can let Sirius know that he is welcome to visit?” Regulus says hesitantly.

“I’ll let him know,” Arcturus promises. “It may be best for you to arrange a time by owl. I doubt Sirius would appreciate accidentally meeting Snape.”

Regulus grimaces, his handsome features twisting into momentary disquiet and he nods. “Right,” he says, “I’d rather not have blood on the carpet. Kreacher would kill me.”

Arcturus huffs a chuckle. He rather thinks Kreacher would kill Sirius or Snape first but he keeps that observation to himself as they head into the hallway. Arcturus puts on his outerwear and picks up his cane.

He places his hand on his youngest grandson’s shoulder briefly and squeezes, knowing it is as much contact as Regulus will allow him. “Your grandmother and I will be by on Christmas Eve.”

He apparates away, Regulus’ smile the last thing he sees before the world reforms around him.

The reception room at Castle Black is formal and minimalistic. There is an expensive white wallpaper covering the top part of the room with oak panelling on the bottom. The large marble hearth holding the Floo faces a wide window looking over the walled rose gardens.  A long overstuffed sofa in Slytherin green takes up one wall.

Above the hearth, a portrait of Arcturus’ grandfather carefully guards the room. He bows his head at the watchful painting.

The pop of an elf beside him has him turning to smile fondly at Dolba. The elderly elf is the Head Elf of the Castle and was once Arcturus’ childhood personal elf.

“Master Sirius is in the library, and Lady Black is at afternoon tea with Lady Longbottom,” Dolba takes his outerwear with deft magic.

“Thank you, Dolba,” Arcturus says, wondering why Sirius is still at the castle. Typically, Sirius works from his office at the castle in the morning and heads home in time for the children coming home from school. He hurries to the library and finds Sirius at one of the large tables, books strewn across the surface, deep into his research.

“Sirius?” Arcturus accepts the brief hug from his eldest grandson. He’s still a little awkward at it, but he has made an effort to show his affection for Sirius since their reconciliation. “What are you researching?”

“I got wind from Frank that Umbridge is planning another amendment to the Werewolf bill,” Sirius says grimly. “I suspect Malfoy is behind it. I’m researching precedence.”

“When she due to bring it to the Wizengamot?” asks Arcturus.

Dolores Umbridge is an odious witch. Her father had been a decent wizard; a hard-working man who had helped upkeep the Ministry. How such a kind man had given rise to such a bitchy daughter was confounding to Arcturus. But then, Arcturus muses, it was also confounding to him how his son had fallen in love with Walburga. He and Melania still suspect love potions even though they’d tested their boy every which way they could.

“January,” Sirius says, resuming his seat, “rumour has it that she’s just going to put it on the docket as a last minute addition.”

“Just her style,” Arcturus grimaces. He and the rest of his traditional compatriots are less bothered about werewolf rights than his heir whose best friend is a werewolf, but he cannot deny that Umbridge goes too far. He slides into the seat next to Sirius. “Aren’t you supposed to be collecting the children from school?”

“The boys have got football practice,” Sirius replies absently. “Vernon said he’ll cover it since he had some time owed to him after that business trip to Switzerland he took last month.”

“How is Petunia getting along now?” asks Arcturus.

Sirius hums. “Grateful for the help of the nanny elf Grandmother gifted her and the extra room we created in the attic for Dudley. She’s said she’s done having children.”

“Twins will certainly do that to you,” Arcturus says dryly.

He shakes his head. He’s grown fond of Harry’s muggle relatives, the Dursleys. He still finds them quaint and does not really understand their way of living without magic, but Petunia and Vernon are polite and respectful company. Their eldest, Dudley, is an athletic boisterous chap and Harry’s best friend, although they’d recently allowed Neville into their circle and made fast friends with the Longbottom heir.

Arcturus approves of that burgeoning alliance with pride.

Lillian is at pre-school, an adorable poppet who is already clearly magical. Her younger brothers are less than a year old and very much muggle; William and Jonathan Dursley are bright cheerful identical babies who take after their father.

“Dolba said you were at Gringotts,” Sirius comments, looking up from the tome he is paging through. “Everything alright?”

“They finished the vault audit,” Arcturus says. “I dropped off the item with Regulus before returning home.”

Sirius fidgets, his fingers sliding restlessly against the edge of the paper. “Is he alright?”

“He is,” Arcturus nods firmly and is pleased when Sirius’ worried expression eases. He clears his throat to regain Sirius’ attention before it gets diverted back to Sirius’ research quest. “He’s said you are welcome to visit him.”

Sirius’ grey eyes so like Arcturus’ own widen in shock. “He has?”

“He thought you would rail against the rules and visit him anyway,” Arcturus notes wryly. “I fear he’s stuck a little back in the past and how your relationship was before he almost died.”

Sirius’ lips twist. “I’ll go and see him after Christmas. The next week is going to be chaos once the school breaks up for the holiday.”

“Send him an owl,” Arcturus instructs. “I’ve told him it would be better for the pair of you both to arrange a meeting rather than you just drop in.”

“You’re not wrong,” Sirius murmurs. He sighs. “I wish I understood why he feels he needs to take out these…anchors himself.”

Arcturus had worked out that Sirius had assumed that there were more than one ever since they’d realised a part of Voldemort’s soul had latched onto Harry. Thankfully, the child had only had to suffer with it for a few months, protected even then his mother’s sacrifice, until Andromeda had worked her healing magic.

“Your brother wants redemption, Sirius,” Arcturus says. He pauses and continues. “More, I think he wants his legacy to be one which shows him on the right side of history, taking down Riddle and not standing beside him.”

“Maybe I can talk him into accepting some help,” Sirius says thoughtfully. “I promised myself I’d focus on Harry until he was safely away at Hogwarts, but Remus is pretty free during the week except for when he’s tutoring the boys. He’s struggled to find work this side of the pond although the university still sends him some projects he can do here.”

“I’m surprised he hasn’t gone back to France,” Arcturus notes, “the law is so much better over there.” He taps the book Sirius has open. “Perhaps you would be better looking at French law as a precedent than the Wizengamot’s record.”

Sirius brightens at his suggestion.

There is a sound by the doorway and they both turn in time to see Melania enter.

Arcturus smiles at the sight of his beautiful wife. Her porcelain skin is as flawless as ever, her thick brown hair only showing a few strands of grey peeking through like highlights. Her warm brown gaze meets his as she smiles at him.

He rises and goes to greet her with a kiss. They link hands gently, squeezing softly in support and welcome. He escorts her over to the table where Sirius gives her a gentle hug.

“You’re here late,” Melania cups Sirius’ cheek and examines him with a small frown of concern.

“Research for a new amendment to the Werewolf bill,” Sirius explains succinctly. “How was your tea with Alice?”

“It was lovely,” Melania pats her front. “I had far too many little finger sandwiches. I’m not going to want any dinner.”

“I promised Vernon I’d pick up fish and chips on my way back as payment for him taking the boys to football,” Sirius says. “You’re both welcome to join us.”

Arcturus glances hopefully at his wife. Muggle fish and chips is one of the finds that Arcturus has fallen in love with in the past few years.

Melania rolls her eyes at him, but her smile gives away her fond indulgence of him. “That will be lovely, Sirius. I might just have a few chips.”

“You say that and then you’ll eat half my fish,” Arcturus grumbles good-naturedly because he’s never denied or begrudged Melania anything on his plate. They might have started out as an arrangement but she is the love of his life.

Sirius chuckles.

“Alice sends her regards,” Melania says crisply. “She headed off to watch Neville at football. She says that his joining Harry and Dudley at the school is the best decision they’ve made for him.”

Arcturus and Sirius exchange a quick look. It is not exactly a secret that Alice had been furious with her husband and mother-in-law once she’d learned of how they’d raised Neville in the years she’d been comatose. She’d been incandescent at hearing about Algernon’s murder attempt. She’d been so upset, she’d moved herself and Neville into Sirius’ cottage for a week until Frank had sufficiently grovelled and she’d come to terms with the news.

“Is Alice going to join the coven?” asks Sirius, turning with eager curiosity to his grandmother.

Melania nods. “I’d like nine of us ideally, but Alice brings us up to seven which is a solid magical number. I fear I’m going to have to wait to find two more Maidens beyond Nymphadora.” Her gaze drifts to Arcturus. “Did you get the errand at Gringotts sorted, darling?”

“I did,” Arcturus confirms. “The package was delivered safely.” He darts a look at Sirius and determines he’ll tell Melania about finding Regulus with Snape later. For all Sirius has grown up immensely, the lad has never had a sensible reaction about Snape in his life.

Melania arches an elegant eyebrow in his direction as though she knows he’s holding something back. She turns back to Sirius. “Did you say you were researching about an amendment to the Werewolf bill?”

“Yes,” Sirius nods. “Gramps has just given me a great idea about tackling it through French law though so I might need to pop over to France next week and grab some of the library at the Paris apartment.”

“We could come with you and do some shopping,” Melania offers cheerfully.

Sirius doesn’t quite blanch white but it is close thing. Shopping with Melania is not for the fainthearted, Arcturus thinks with amusement.

“That sounds splendid,” Arcturus says brightly, because it is duty to back his wife in all her endeavours.

Sirius shoots him a betrayed look. He sighs giving in and nods at his grandmother. “But no more presents for the children,” he says, “they have enough Christmas presents already.”

Melania hums.

“Actually, Gran,” Sirius says slowly, “maybe you can give me an early Christmas present?”

“Of course, Sirius,” Melania says, reaching out to touch his arm. “What do you need?”

“To destroy Dolores Umbridge entirely,” Sirius says promptly.

Melania starts to smile. It is terrifying and terrifyingly attractive. There is a hint of her legacy, of the Hunt that lives in her blood in that smile.

“Darling boy, that’s more of a present for me than for you,” Melania says.

Arcturus watches as they curve towards each other conspiratorially and start to plan the demise of Umbridge. He cannot think of a more fitting comeuppance to the witch.

He sits back content to watch them.

Arcturus knows that he is a lucky wizard. It could all have gone so badly wrong, but he and Melania have survived and they’ve rebuilt.  

Sirius will make a fine Lord Black in time. He’s a wonderful heir and Harry will follow after him.

Let Riddle try and resurrect himself, Arcturus thinks grimly; let Dumbledore play his chess games. Neither of them will win in the end. The future of the Ancient and Noble House of Black is safe. 

Sirius and Harry are a promise of a legacy which Arcturus will continue to protect with his life, with his magic, and with all of his love.  

fin.

Next story: A Promise of Fate

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