Prologue:
Sirius Orion Black
A finger traced the woven cursive of the tapestry up to the Scorch Mark resting above it. Before following the artistically displayed branches to the next woven name;
Walburga Elladora Black
Here the finger outlined the name-face. Curious in its explorations. But ultimately it too traveled on, ghosting from one name to the next. Following the interconnecting lines until, at last, it paused.
Dorea Black
The finger was joined by another, and another, and still more. Until not a finger, but a hand, lay there. Ghosting over the tapestry, over its history, its secrets.
The hand, ever gentle, traced the line that connected to;
Charlus James Potter
Before following it's branch to a dead-end. One final name, over which the hand hovered...almost reverently.
James Haris Potter
"Harry?" A voice called, and the hand jolted. Retreating from the tapestry.
"Harry, where are you?"
"Over here," Harry responded, voice soft. Eyes trained on his father's name. "I'm looking at your family tree."
The next moment Sirius Black entered the Tapestry Room, giving Harry a look that one usually reserved for particularly...odd, children, and their thoughts. "Why in Merlin's name are you doing that?!"
Harry just shrugged. He'd had no real purpose when entering the room, except, perhaps, to avoid Mrs. Weasley and her cleaning crusade. And had only bothered reading the names because it seemed like the right sort of thing to do when they were plastered on the wall like that.
Besides, it made some sort of poetic sense, him knowing where his Godfather had come from.
Where his father had come from.
Harry was fighting a war against a culture he didn't even really understand. And while he had no doubt that he was on the Side of Light, that lack of knowledge still made his stance seem...Wrong, somehow.
Like, how can they stand around preaching that Muggles and Muggleborns are just misunderstood, when it's the Purebloods and the Wizarding Community that Harry didn't understand? A bit of the Pot calling the Kettle Black and all that.
And, okay, he might have just been a bit curious about his heritage.
"You never told me you were related to Dad."
"Huh?"
Harry just pointed at his new discovery and watched as realization lit up in Sirius' eyes.
"Oh, yeah. All of us Pure-bloods are related in some way." Sirius shrugged motioning to one section of the wall, "see, here's the Weasley's, the Prewett's, the McMillan's, the Longbottom's, and the Potter's," here he winked at Harry.
"The few 'Light' family's we've married into over the years. And here," a stormy look passed over Sirius' face, "are all the 'Dark' family's; the Bulstrode's, the Crabbe's, the Yaxley's, the Rosier's, the Lestrange's, and, of course, the Malfoy's."
"You're related to Malfoy?" Harry gasped. As if, by admitting such, Sirius had committed some grievous sin.
"So are you!" Sirius shot back with boyish immaturity.
Pulling a face and shaking his head as if to rid it of some horrible thought-honestly, Malfoy of all people?-Harry let out the first question that came to mind.
"Where's my name?"
"Hmm?"
"Well," Harry began, eyes once again riveted on his Father's name, "if we're related, and Dad's name is here, well then...where's my name?"
Silence. And then, "you're a Potter, Harry." Sirius let out with a chuckle. "Mother could no more include your name than she could Merlin's, or Salazar's-as much as she may have liked to claim lineage to the old Snake."
"How do you mean?"
Sirius just stared sadly at Harry, poorly concealed pity in his eyes. "Sometimes I forget that you don't just know this stuff. I hate that I know it, I mean. It's all stupid and backwards, but, still...it's sad that you don't know it. Does that make any sense?"
"No." Harry candidly responded, "know what?"
A sigh.
"I guess I can try to explain. A family tree.. it's like...an inheritance map, or something. Yes, it tracks the family and can be seen as a way to prove one's Blood-Purity but, really, it's there to settle civil disputes. That's why it only tracks each branch so far, if you are beyond a second-generation Black you have no claim to the Black Titles, and Estates, at least, not through blood."
Harry's eyes had glazed over during the dispute, before something seemed to click in his mind. "But the scorch marks?"
"Good one, Harry. Right, the Scorch Marks-many courtesy of dear Old Mum-are proof of being disowned in my family. They mean that inheritance can pass right on over us."
"Then," Harry's eyes viciously traced the tapestry piecing together what he had just been told, "Draco's going to get everything?"
"Draco?"
"Malfoy," Harry spat, "Lucius' son."
"Ah," a shrug, "yes, seems that way."
"But he can't!"
Sirius just raised his brow, he had long since given up any care to the 'House of Black' and all it entitled. What was it to him if a Malfoy inherited it all? They already had more money than they knew what to do with, it's not like adding the Black Estates to the mix would do much.
"We have to do something, Sirius!"
"Why?"
"Why?" Harry circled around to look his Godfather in the eyes, "why?!" Didn't he understand how important this was? Sure Sirius didn't get along with his family but, "it belongs to you, Sirius. These things, cups, plates, broken brooms. They may not mean anything to anyone else, least of all to Malfoy but they mean something to you. Even if most of its bad." He allowed. "It can't all be. You had a younger brother, right? Surely you had some good memories with him?"
To this day Sirius wouldn't be able to tell you what got to him. Whether it was James' voice, or Lily's eyes, or, perhaps, Harry's words. The words of an orphan. Of a boy who would want nothing more than to have all the meaningless doodads in the world, because they would be proof of where he came from. Proof that he had a family and that he had memories of them.
Heck, maybe it was all three.
All Sirius knew was that one moment he was fine in his complacency and the next he was bending to his Godson's will.
"Fine, what do you suggest we do?"
It had taken some back and forth discussion, and a trip to the Black Library-which, of course, meant bringing Hermione in on their little pet project. Before Harry and Sirius had anything resembling a working plan.
And by "working plan" they meant "spell."
"Daevelope, you got that Sirius?" Hermione called in her 'I know what I'm talking about' voice, "you say Die-veh-loh-puh-ay while tracing the rune for 'family' in the air, with your wand, and then you tap the tapestry."
"And that's it?" Sirius questioned, eying his Family Tapestry as if it would come to life at any moment and attack him.
"That's it," Hermione confirmed, "I studied Wizarding Law back in my third year, mind you, but I remember enough to know that your only hope is finding another candidate for inheritance. And if there's a blood relative running around that's not on this tapestry it would only be because your Mother didn't know to add them, or to disown them, as the case may be."
"And this spell will help us find them?" Harry questioned his friend, awe in his eyes.
"Well, not quite," Hermione admitted, "it would just give you a name, and a relation...you're really just expanding the tree, you see, actually finding the person...that's another task."
"Well, let's see if there are even any little Blacks running around that Mother never knew about." Sirius muttered while flicking his wand in a series of complex swirls, "Daevelope," he whispered, a golden light shining from the tip of his wand, carefully placing the light at the very top of his Family Tree. Before stepping back in awe.
"It's beautiful," Hermione murmured watching as the ball of light began tracing the lines of Sirius' family, splitting into a multiple smaller lights at every branch and continuing down until each dead-end was glowing gold. Then, slowly, names began adding themselves to the Tapestry.
Harry James Potter
Neville Longbottom
Ernie MacMillon
Each Third Generation Black engraved in Silver. And with each name that was added, the chances of a Golden name appearing became less, and less, until, at last, that ball of light traveled down past;
Orion Black
To;
Regulus Arcturus Black
And;
Sirius Orion Black
"Sorry, kido," Sirius called, turning his back to the Tapestry, even as the golden glow started fading from his name. "Looks like it was a dead end. I mean, really, I would have sworn my old man had slept around at least a little."
"Uh, Sirius."
"I mean, it's not like Mum was much of a looker, and she could sure get on your nerves, I wouldn't have blamed him, you know."
"Sirius."
"Then again. He was a Slytherin, probably did sleep around and just wasn't careless enough to leave any bastard's running around, you know?"
"Sirius!" Harry yelled, snapping his Godfather out of his thoughts, "there is a name."
"What?!" Quick as lighting Sirius turned around and began scanning his Father's name, but nothing. With dread he dropped his eyes to his own name-after all that was a possibility-but that too was a dull Black. Confused he let his eyes roam around the tapestry looking for a golden glow.
There!
Right below Reg's name, a single line connecting his brother, and his;
Antlia Violetta Black
Niece.
"Huh, would you look at that? I'm an Uncle!"
