PROLOGUE

She was feeling depressed, laying on her deathbed, waiting for the inevitable to happen. Not because her life was ending—she was much too well-bred to care for minor annoyances like that; she wouldn't really die anyway, since a part of her would stay behind. Of course, a part of her mind couldn't stop thinking that she was too young to die, only sixty years old, whilst many other witches and wizards lived more than a hundred years.

But no, in general dying was the least of her worries. She was actually looking forward to it. Dying like that was her worry.

Walburga Black had a big family, at least according to the pure-blood standards. She had born two sons and had three nieces. Five people, five descendants—at least—should be in her bedroom right now, grieving silently, perhaps sobbing, waiting for her loss.

But none of them were. She was alone, except for her faithful house-elf, Kreature. And it was her fault—that was bothering her, really. That she had driven her own family away. She had erased Sirius from the family for leaving home because she had been abusing him for years; she had pushed Regulus to join the Death Eaters, getting him killed by orders of the Dark Lord himself; she had watched Bellatrix joining the Death Eaters and getting sentenced to Azkaban; she had erased Andromeda for marrying a muggle-born; and as for Narcissa...

Well, to be honest, Narcissa had no reason to hold a grudge against her! Narcissa was happily married to her Hogwarts sweetheart, who also was head of an old and rich pure-blood family, and it wouldn't have been possible if Walburga herself hadn't helped with the dowry issue.

So, really, Narcissa should feel gratitude for her aunt. But still, she hadn't shown up. When Kreature fire-called her this morning, the Malfoy house-elves had claimed their mistress wasn't at home and, twelve hours later, she still hadn't fire-called back.

Walburga let a sigh, the sound of which disturbed even the—as cruel as its mistress—house-elf. If Walburga Black's only remaining descendant didn't even want to see her dying, that meant only one thing.

Walburga had failed. As a mother, as an aunt, as Lady Black.

"Kreature," she said in her dying voice, "give me my wand." When the elf complied, Lady Walburga Black, head of the ancient and most noble house of Black, drew her family crest in the air and said, "Prostheson Sirius Orion Black."

Her arm fell on the bed, as she passed away.

Sirius felt a tingle of magic deep in his core, enough to alert him even in sleep. Not that he could ever sleep peacefully in this god-forsaken place, surrounded by happiness-sucking beings. But this feeling was different. It was like a missing bond being reinstated, like a muggle circuit would feel if it was reconnected—not that muggle circuits could feel anything, of course.

Sirius had such a feeling only once in his life, but it was the exact opposite. The night he had left his parents' house, the night he decided he had had enough and sought refuge at the Potter Manor. That night, a little after he fell asleep, he had felt like the circuit had been disconnected. He was really scared at first and he had thought of waking James up. But after a few moments had passed and everything was fine, Sirius calmed down and fell asleep again. A few days later he had learnt that the twinge of magic was his disownment.

So, what was it now? The feeling was the complete opposite of that other time, so... could that mean he was a member of the Black family again? That made no sense!

And it made no difference as well. Sirius was probably going to spend all his life in Azkaban—commoner or lord—for a murder he didn't commit, without even standing trial; his life was practically over... As the wave of depression started getting the best of him, Sirius transformed to a dog and fell back to sleep.

Narcissa Malfoy had been avoiding her aunt all day, and for good reason! Being the only left descendant of Lady Black's, she had to endure the old woman almost every single day! It was better when her sisters were around, but no, the old witch had to go and erase almost everyone from the family! No, Narcissa wasn't interested in spending the whole day with her aunt only to listen to her racist rambling about Muggles and Mudbloods. She had better things to do.

It was only late that night, when she felt the familiar tingle of magic in her core. It was the same when Lucius' father had died. Lucius had felt it more intensely of course, since he was the heir to the lordship, but Narcissa had enough to recognise the feeling. It meant that Aunt Burga was now dead, and she, being the oldest—actually, the only left—member of the Black family was now the head.

No, that wasn't right. If she was the head now she would had felt the tingle more strongly, just like Lucius had felt it all those years ago. No, Narcissa's tingle meant she was merely the acting head, second in command in any case. Which meant that someone else was now the head... either Bellatrix or Sirius, someone who couldn't act their power for now.

Narcissa left the bed quietly, so as to not wake Lucius. She needed to think.