Of Lords and Would Be Kings

Chapter One

Andromeda Tonks held the Daily Prophet in her hands. She trembled slightly and her shoulders were drawn up to her ears. Ira knew that it wasn't due to the pleasant cool in the entire house. Whichever spells the Tonks had placed upon their house managed to keep out the cold in winter and the muggy warmth of the summer in 1993. Something Ira felt rather grateful for. It was bad enough that yet again he had let himself get persuaded by his older cousin Dora to spend the summer at their house. So much for continuing his research on reversing the effects of the Cruciatus Curse in tranquillity at his manor near a beach in South Devon… He was certain that if Andromeda 'Call me Andy, please' would find the books he'd brought with him she wasn't going to be happy about it.

Ira felt Dora's glance rest upon him and he nudged his cousin to approach the dark-haired witch, who stood by the window, not noticing the presence of her daughter and her cousin's son as it seemed. It struck Ira as odd that a born Black paid so little attention to her surroundings. How had she not become as paranoid as the rest of the damn family?

"Mum?" Dora took a step towards her mother. It was a miracle she didn't trip over her father's wellies that lay on the floor between the kitchen door and Andromeda. With a casual wave of his wand Ira levitated them under the dining table and out of Dora's way. It wouldn't do Dora any good to break her legs before her Auror training was entirely completed.

"What is it?" Andromeda asked and turned around. Her eyes were widened slightly and her hands clutched the newspaper tightly. Curiosity flickered through Ira's grey eyes as he noted the white colour of her knuckles, but then the expression on his face became blank and his eyes vacant.
It was such a Black-ish thing to give nothing away, Andromeda thought. Slowly she stroked a strand of her curly hair out of her face.

"We were wondering whether you'd graciously allow us to visit Diagon Alley," Ira answered from where he stood next to the door with the wall in his back so no one could sneak up on him.

"To see the Firebolt!" exclaimed Dora with childlike excitement. The corners of Ira's mouth twitched. Out of all his cousins, Dora was the funniest. Neville was simply clumsy and shy, whereas Draco was a nuisance and too caught up in his banter with the Potter boy for Ira to take him seriously.

Andromeda blinked. "I don't think it'd be a good idea."

"Naturally we…" Ira's voice trailed off as his eyes fell onto the headline of the Daily Prophet. Escape from Azkaban! It read. That was… unexpected, to say the least.

"I'm certain that escapee is after us personally," he commented dryly and received a sharp look from Andromeda, who placed the newspaper onto the kitchen table for him and Dora to see. There was a picture of a young man with longish hair and a mad laughter etched onto his face. He held a sign with several numbers and runes on it in his hands. Sirius Orion Black, it said underneath.

Ira's blood ran cold. So this was Sirius, the runaway, the blood-traitor, the disgrace to the family and the worst older brother in history. He looked human in the photograph, terrifyingly so. It was the first photograph Ira saw of him in which Sirius hadn't had his arm around Regulus' shoulders. It was the first picture of Sirius that made Ira's stomach churn. Everyone that hadn't known Sirius would think of him as crazy. But in fact Sirius had just been more rebellious, less conforming to the family than the rest and he'd been stupid enough, like everyone else, to openly take sides. Nothing had ever been usual about Sirius. Sirius, who'd been the first one of the family to get sorted into Gryffindor, who was a friend of blood-traitors, mudbloods, half-breeds and everyone that wasn't immediate family and that he liked, had escaped from Azkaban. The first one to do so, in ever. It should've been obvious. After all Blacks didn't like playing along the rules like normal, lesser mortals, and Sirius was still a Black in blood and name.

"Sirius Black," Dora read and met her mother's gaze. "He's yours and mine cousin, isn't he?"

"More like your future assignment," Ira said smirking. "But yes, he's your cousin once removed and he just so happens to be my father."

He inhaled sharply as Dora placed her hand onto his shoulder and squeezed it gently. She withdrew her hand as he felt him tense under her touch.

"You don't believe he'd hurt us?" Ira asked, succeeding in sounding like the young teenager people thought him to be when they looked at him. Only that they got it all wrong. He was Lord Black.
There was no way in hell Sirius was going to hurt him, was going to get even close enough to him before he'd hit the ground dead. Bad representation of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black he'd be if that was going to be the case.

Slowly Andromeda shook her head. "No, I don't believe so. But Sirius… he's been in Azkaban for twelve years, Ira, no one knows what these years turned him into."

Ira snorted. "A dog." The sardonic comment left the tip of his tongue before he could stop it. Arcturus might have raised him well: he'd raised him to be polite. Only that he hadn't been able to tame the anger Ira carried around with him, anger at the world and at everyone living in it. And whilst Cygnus had taught him in record time (it had taken Ira less than two minutes to understand that his great-uncle would do everything in his power to make his life hell) to keep his mouth shut and his 'funny, little remarks' to himself, neither of them were here now. They were both dead. And Sirius was on the loose.

"He's been convicted for the murder of thirteen people," Dora said.

"Did he receive a trial?" Ira asked quietly and scratched the back of his right hand. His voice was suddenly hoarse and he swallowed heavily as the picture of Cygnus on fire flashed before his eyes.

"Of course he did!" said Dora. "A trial is needed for a conviction. The justice system isn't so corrupted that it wouldn't give someone a trial."

Mirthless laughter crossed Ira's lips and both witches shuddered. "Of course not," Ira said. "This is precisely why Aurors were allowed, encouraged even, to use the Unforgivables during the war."

"Ira-" Andromeda tried to cut him off, but Ira continued as if she'd never interrupted him. "You should make certain you don't fail your tests with that kind of naivety."

Dora's hair colour changed from bright blue to dark red. Her eyes were blazing. Ira smirked. "That really pushed your buttons as they call it, hasn't it?" he asked.

"You little bastard!" snapped Dora.

"Bastard's correct, I'm afraid. Little, not so much." Their laughter filled the kitchen like the smoke did as Andromeda open the stove. Instantly Dora positioned herself between Ira and the stove as if that would stop the smoke.
This wouldn't have happened with a house elf, Ira thought and watched as Andromeda slammed the stove door shut again, pushed the window open and cursed under her breath. "I guess we won't have potatoes then today," she said louder.

"Lucky I brought some Chinese home then, huh?" A pleasant voice sounded from the front door.
Inwardly Ira cringed. Putting up with this… part of his family was proving to be challenging from time to time. Why had his father's cousin had to marry a mudblood? Which self-respecting person would ever do such an idiotic thing?
But as Ted Tonks stepped into the room, Ira's benignly indifferent smile was in place and his insides twisted at the sight of Ted kissing Andy briefly on the mouth, of him pulling Dora in a hug and kissing her currently pink hair, and of him stopping before him with a huge smile on his face before he realised who truly stood before him.

"Ira," the man acknowledged.

"Ted," he said coolly and felt something cold run down his spine. He could see a shadow move out of the corner of his eyes. 'You don't deserve to be loved,' he heard Cygnus' cold voice. 'Arcturus should've killed you the moment that bitch of a mother left you on his door step.'

Cygnus was dead. He'd killed him himself. There was no doubt that Cygnus had been reduced to ashes along with the entire house. One could escape death's clutches only so many times. One could escape a Black's clutches never, not even Blacks themselves.

Ted placed two white plastic bags onto the kitchen table and together with Andy he laid the table. Numbly Ira watched. He struggled to breathe. It would've been wiser to spend the summer in his beach manor where he wouldn't have to see this: people loving each other. No one loved him though. The people that had were all dead now. Tinker and Kreacher, no matter how kind they were to him, and the Tonks… they didn't count. The Tonks had taken him in out of obligation. He was a burden to them although they tried their best to hide it; and the elves were just that: elves. They worked for him. He was their master, not their friend.
Fleetingly Dora touched his forearm and nodded towards the kitchen table. "You alrighty?" she asked.

"Of course," Ira said. He was always alright. He had to be. He was Lord Black. People expected him to be. He expected himself to be.

"I'm here for you if you want to talk," Dora said equally quiet. The nod Ira gave was almost imperceptible but Dora was an Auror in training, clumsy as she was, wasn't what you could call stupid or unobservant. Silently Ira sat on the chair opposite the door. He put his wand next to his plate and waited for Andromeda to scold him, but the woman only narrowed his eyes at him for a moment before she involved Ted in a conversation about his day.
Which had been oh-so-fantastic, Ira thought and took a sip from his water.

"You're not hungry, son?" Ted asked between two bites.

Twirling the chopsticks in his hand Ira reluctantly started eating. Nausea rolled over him as the smell reached his nose. He had the feeling the Wizengamot would require Lord Black's presence soon. Surely the break-out would be reason enough to call in an emergency meeting. It was unnecessary and would only increase the fear in the wizarding community. But that was how the Ministry kept everyone in order: fear and reward. Becoming Lord Black was a process that, long story short, was one thing: daunting. Understandably most wizards and witches wouldn't have been too fond of a child sitting among them; much less would they've listened to one. Polyjuice potion as suggested by his Potions professor truly did wonders.

"Ira?" He moved his right hand below the table. It was shaking.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Andromeda asked. Worry had found its way onto her face and lines of a frown were drawn onto her forehead. Empathy glinted in her eyes. But Ira couldn't look at her. He felt tears well up in his eyes. Composure, Black, composure!

"Please excuse me," he said instead of giving her an answer. With that he left the kitchen before anyone could've reached out their hand to stop him. Not that he would've wanted them to. It was one thing to lose his composure when he was on his own, but a whole other to do it in company.

About an hour later there was a knock on the door. Hastily Ira finished writing his conclusion about the use of Veritaserum, his penmanship not changing and the quality of his essay not suffering because Snape would have his head for that, before he closed his book and called "Enter!"

The door opened and Dora put her head through the gap. "Would monsieur mind accompanying madam to Diagon Alley?" she asked with a terrible French accent that made Ira grin.

"Yes," he said and rose to his feet. "I'll just get dressed, beloved cousin mine."

"Behold the Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black does not wish to mix with the common folk," Dora said and left the room again, snickering.

Ira heard her trip over something in the corridor and shook his head slightly. His cousin was hopeless. He would place his bets on her passing her Auror training nevertheless. She still had Black blood running through her veins and that alone was seventy percent of what success was made of. Fifteen percent were skill, ten percent willpower and the remaining five percent luck.