This is a companion piece to my main set of works, and as such it reflects those times and the changes made in that universe. So, the birth order of the Black istser's is changed, and everything has been moved 20 years forward, as it has been in the How It Should Have Been Series.
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If Phineas Nigellus Black was alive today, one might assume he would be quite pleased with his family. This newest generation boasted five Blacks, plus some relatives. He would more or less likely be quite happy to kill some of them - there were, after all, Potter's and Longbottom's mixed into the Black blood now. All in all, though, the Black stock had a total of seven children accepted in this new generation. It was probably a record high. Druella Rosier marrying into the family had blessed them with three girls. It was no way to carry on the name and legacy of the Blacks, but it was certainly more new blood than they had had in quite a few generations.
However, a living Phineas Nigellus Black would also have quite mixed feelings about this newest generation of Blacks.
This generation had two possibilities for heir: The sons of Orion and Walburga Black. That could not mix well. Orion and Walburga were, after all, second cousins. The risks for Black madness and Squibs was dangerously high for the two idiots. Sirius Orion and Regulus Arcturus, the grandsons of both Arcturus and Pollux Black. It was a disaster in the making, surely.
Sirius, the elder, was a rebel. He was hot headed and crass and rather stubborn. At times, a fire shone in those blue eyes that vividly reflected that of Pollux's own. It almost gave one hope. Almost. Until dinner time, when Sirius would reach over and knock over Walburga's goblet. Or whenever he let doxies loose in Orion's study. Or the time he sellotaped Regulus' door shut. He was a mischievous brat who hated the world of pureblood traditions. He had no regard for ancient rites and rituals. He was most certainly the result of bad breeding. A muggle lover in the making.
Regulus, though, was quite the gentleman. Raised in the shadow of his brother, he shone brighter than any other star on the Black family tapestry. He was his mother's joy - if she ever had any - and his father's pride. Regulus Black was the picture of propriety. He was always polite and courteous, but always coldly so, as if there were some underlying threat in his very being. One he would always be sure to follow up on. He held the pureblood ways in high esteem, and he went out of his way to make sure his family's customs were followed. Orion and Walburga always did wonder why Regulus couldn't have been born first.
On the other side were their cousins - three sisters who had rather quickly made themselves known to the wizarding world. Pollux's granddaughters, healthily mixed with Crabbe and Rosier blood, they were cold and distant and powerful. Andromeda Ceres, the oldest, followed by Narcissa Seren and Bellatrix Pandora Black. They were quite quickly known as The Sisters Black, a triad of sisters who would slit anyone's throat with the very same smile they used to greet guests.
Andromeda, the eldest, went quite a bit of time being the only daughter. She was like an angel carved out of melting ice, with lava flowing free in her veins. She was posh and poised, the picture of what every pureblood daughter should be. She was tall and elegant, with near typical Black looks. Her face was pointed and angled, with soft eyes and cheeks, and lips that dripped honey. Her only fault was that lava, her insatiable burning hunger. The same one that let her laugh like clear ringing crystal, light and joyful, filled her with passion. She sat on a borderline of intensity. Too far one way and she would be the perfect ice princess. Too far the other and she may well join her cousin in the muggle loving ranks.
Narcissa was the middle child, unexpected and beloved. She had a grace that exceeded her sister's own, and just the right mix of tranquil charm and venomous threat. She was beautiful and endearing, like homespun glass. Unlike the rest of her family, she was as pale as snow with hair to match. She was small, fragile, and frozen. the same heat that flowed through Andromeda had never touched Narcissa. The ice queen of the Black family, she was. A politician's wife in the making.
Bellatrix was eagerly anticipated. The third and final sister, she carried a distinguished dignity about her, as if she knew this was her place in the world. She had a smile like a feral cat's, but a heart as large and wild as the ocean. For all her manners and poise, she was, by and large, a disappointment. The very way she carried herself around guests, the slight chill she gave off, melted as soon as she was alone. Hooded and dark eyes became wide and bright, with a sunbright smile. She was an unfit puzzle piece, a wildcard in her father's deck.
On the other side of the family, one slightly less related, lie a variety of people.
The closest related to his heirs was the Potter boy. His grandmother was a black, Dorea. She was the great aunt to the Black children. She and her husband, a well bred Charlus Potter, had one child - a boy named Fleamont. Phineas would have shuddered at the name. Fleamont, however, had much better sense in naming his only son. James Charlus Potter was his father's single greatest wish. An heir that he and his wife, Euphemia, had struggled to conceive. But conceive him they had. James had the smugness of an aristocrat, without the ice that seemed to follow families like the Blacks and the Notts. He was well bred and healthy, a vibrant boy who exuded so much confidence one could choke on it. He was gifted and well liked, popular, even as a babe. The only downfall that Phineas would have been able to find in him was a sense of morality so strong and resolute that any Black would have disowned him. It was probably for the better, in that case, that Fleamont did not keep much contact with the Black family.
A little further removed from the others, but of Black blood nonetheless, was Frank Harfang Longbottom. As equally related to Phineas as the others were, he would have been a conundrum for him. The Longbottoms were an old family, quite well known for their power and magical prowess. However, they were even more known for how decidedly good they were. Something his son, Arcturus, had conveniently forgotten when marrying his daughter Callidora off to Harfang Longbottom. The result? A strong witch and a stronger wizard for children, both of whom were mostly ambivalent toward politics. They were purebloods and they knew it, but it was as if they hadn't a care. And then came Frank, strong in power and character, and well on his way to being both feared and respected amongst his generation. He was a Gryffindor through and through, and if Walburga had ever known him, she would most likely have disowned him. Luckily enough, she didn't and therefore couldn't. Phineas would have had no clue what to do with the boy.
All in all, if Phineas Nigellus Black had been alive to see this generation, he would have been filled with internal conflict. Two of seven were as perfectly Black as they came, and he would have loved Regulus and Narcissa dearly. Andromeda and Bellatrix would have their share of cautious esteem in his eyes, which was far better than the other three boys could have asked for. Frank, for all of his power, was far too entrenched on the "light" side of things. Sirius' charm wasn't nearly enough to disguise all of his faults, and James was far too stubbornly "good" to be a decent Black.
It was an interesting generation to say the least.