Arcturus Black

By: Katerinaki

Published: 9/22/2014

Beta'ed: No

Notes: If there's anything worse than losing your mother to dragon pox and then coming to live in a whole different country, with relatives you've never even met before, it's coming to live with relatives who already hate you, for something you didn't even do. That was how Arcturus Sirius Black, secret son of Sirius Orion Black and Lenora Cassandra Malfoy, understood family politics.

Chapter 1: A New Place

If there's anything worse than losing your mother to dragon pox and then coming to live in a whole different country, with relatives you've never even met before, it's coming to live with relatives who already hate you, for something you didn't even do. It wasn't your fault your parents both "ran away" and abandoned their duties to their families. It wasn't your fault you were born in secret in a country 2,500 kilometres away. You were only just a thought back when your mother boarded that Muggle airplane and flew off to live in Bucharest, Romania and take up a job as a magical bookstore saleswoman and then successful owner. You weren't a twinkle in the sky when your father left his parents' house at 16 and lived with his best friend, a blood traitor. But that doesn't mean anything. Not when it comes to besmirching the name of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black. They did the deed, but you are their product, and therefore your blood is just as bad as theirs.

That was how Arcturus Sirius Black, secret son of Sirius Orion Black and Lenora Cassandra Malfoy, understood family politics. He knew that, until a week ago, neither the Black family nor the Malfoy family knew of his existence. Since both his parents had been disavowed from the respective families (his father had literally been blasted off the tapestry of the Black Family tree by Arcturus's late grandmother, Walburga, when he'd left), neither family really paid much attention if they married and who. Granted, Arcturus's parents weren't a normal couple in the slightest. From what Lenora had told him, they'd met at Hogwarts and had flirted around the idea of a relationship for the last year or so of school. Things only began to get serious when Arcturus's father joined the war effort, against the Dark Lord, You-Know-Who, and they married a few months later before promptly popping out Arcturus. They'd both barely been out of their teenage years. Lenora had been living in Bucharest, but Sirius had remained in London to help with the war effort.

Of course, neither of them counted on Sirius killing thirteen Muggles and his supposed friend, Peter Pettigrew, and earning himself a lifetime sentence, rotting away in Azkaban prison. Lenora had been left to raise Arcturus alone without any way of communicating with Sirius. She'd done her best, but had succumbed to a particularly virulent strand of dragon pox (not uncommon in Romania with the large dragon population remaining in the country) and died. In her will, Arcturus had been meant to live with his father; however that was impossible since Sirius was still in Azkaban, even after eight years. So, nine year-old Arcturus found himself travelling to London in England. There, he'd live with Marius Black and his wife, Ariadne. The catch, both were Squibs and no more loved by the family then Arcturus or his own parents.

Correction, there was something worse than living with relatives that hate you for something you did not do. It's living with relatives who are jealous of you for something they can't do, but you can. After all, a pair of Squibs from two of the most prominent pureblood families in England was surely dissatisfied with their lot in life. Despite the wealth they still had through successful investments and business dealings, they were sure to envy Arcturus his magic.

"Here goes," he muttered and took hold of the Portkey that would take him from the consulate for the British Ministry of Magic in Bucharest, to the Ministry's Headquarters in London, where he would meet his most unwelcoming relatives. There was a jerk from his navel and everything swirled around him, pulling Arcturus off his feet before he was dumped on a rather cold and hard marble floor.

"You okay, boy?" asked a uniformed wizard. He picked Arcturus up bodily and set him on his feet before taking the used Portkey from his hand.

"Yeah," Arcturus replied. He brushed his robes off and gathered up his trunk before turning to the other people in the small Portkey room. Well, they were certainly related to him. The man had the same dark hair, though it was brushed through with grey and combed impeccably, and aristocratic features. Both wore expensive clothing and held themselves with an atmosphere of superiority, despite being Squibs.

"Arcturus Black," the man said.

"Yeah?"

"I am your uncle, Marius, and this is your aunt, Ariadne. Is this all you have?"

"Yeah."

"Yes."

"What?"

"You will answer with 'yes', not 'yeah' like some common boy on the street."

"Yes," Arcturus hissed back, mocking Uncle Marius's abrupt tone. His uncle chose to ignore his disrespect, though. "Come." They left the Portkey room and wandered down a few hallways before riding the elevator up and getting off at the main atrium. There they took one of the many fireplaces and Flooed from the Ministry to Marius and Ariadne's townhouse in London. They lived in a mixed community of Muggles and wizards; they were not permitted to live in the Black ancestral home. Arcturus was given a room on the third floor, a long climb to the top of the stairs, and then left alone. That was fine with him, though. It wasn't that he had a lot to unpack; it was more that he just didn't want to see much of his bitter relatives at the moment. Neither had said a word to him beyond what was necessary.

Alone in the room at the top of the stairs, Arcturus looked around and sighed heavily. It had been a long week. With the issue of his mother's will and where Arcturus would be sent, he hadn't had much time to mourn properly. After all, she was his mother. Lenora had been the only parent he'd ever known, the one who'd been there for everything, his entire life. She'd comforted him, praised him, encouraged him, scolded him, provided for him, and cared for him, all single-handedly. She hadn't had any help, from neighbours or from family, and particularly not from his father. It had been only her, and Arcturus missed her. He hadn't cried at the service; he'd held back the tears for when he was in private. It had only been the one time too, after they'd lowered her body into the ground and covered it over with dirt. The finality of it all had broken through the shock and Arcturus had finally realized, he was truly alone now. Nobody would help him; he had to care for himself, watch out for himself. On the papers, Marius and Ariadne were his guardians, but in truth he was his own guardian. After the funeral, Arcturus had begun to understand just how alone he was. He had to get used to it.

Mostly the Squibs ignored him and he ignored the Squibs. The only real time they interacted was at meal times, and that was forced. Marius would ask him what he'd been up to and often Arcturus would reply with something simple, "I was reading" or mostly a plain old "Nothing". Marius and Ariadne seemed perfectly happy to accept those less than eloquent replies and then they'd get on with their meals, the only sounds the clinking of their utensils. Occasionally, though, it would be interrupted with some sort of correction on Marius's part of Arcturus's table manners. Lenora had established well-enough manners in him, but apparently they weren't up to par with the Black family's standards. Usually it was little things, not sitting up straight enough, chewing too loudly, which only served to make Arcturus more annoyed with his uncle.

"You are a member of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black," Marius lectured, one rainy evening at supper. "You must conduct yourself with decorum at all times, even at home among relatives."

"So basically I have to act like I have a stick up my arse all the time," Arcturus muttered.

Marius obviously heard and his eyes flashed with anger and frustration, but like so many times before, he didn't say anything, no matter how Arcturus tried to bate him. Arcturus wouldn't mind a good row; he'd often had rather excited ones with his mother. There was something about screaming your opinion at the top of your lungs, no matter what the other person said, that was immensely satisfying. But Arcturus hadn't had a good row since he'd come to London and it was starting to grate on him. Surely Mr. High and Mighty Squib wanted to give Arcturus a piece of his mind right now. So why didn't he?

"I mean, that's what you do, isn't it? How long has that rod been up there? You might want to get it checked out, you know, just in case."

Marius's face flushed in fury and he'd long ago set his utensils down and fixed Arcturus with a glare that would surely kill an Inferius.

'This is it,' Arcturus thought in anticipation. He sat forward on his chair, ready to jump to his feet at the first above normal sound.

But nothing of the sort happened. Instead, Marius methodically wiped his mouth with his napkin before placing it on the table and fixing his nephew with a very serious stare. "You are excused tonight, Arcturus. Go to your room."

"No," Arcturus replied simply.

"Do as I say."

"Mm...Make me, Squib."

Arcturus was sure that would set Marius off. He got to his feet as his uncle did, facing off.

"I will ask you again to go to your room, Arcturus," Marius said, though there was obvious strain in his voice and he looked like he was about to explode a blood vessel.

"And I refused."

"This is your last chance to do so of your own accord."

"I'd like to see you try, Squib."

Well, he didn't try. He succeeded. Suddenly Marius moved, taking Arcturus by the ear and wrenching it down and away so that Arcturus could only hunch over and cry out in surprise and pain.

"What the hell are you doing?!" he demanded.

"Language, Arcturus. You asked me to assist you to your room and I am merely complying. You are right, I do not have magic, but I am far from helpless. You will learn to mind me or you will find your time here most unpleasant. Now, this way." He steered Arcturus from the dining room, up the two flights of stairs, and to his room on the third floor. He closed the door behind him and locked it, leaving Arcturus alone with a mostly empty stomach.

"Bastard," Arcturus growled, massaging his sore ear. It seemed like his uncle had been intending to pull it right off his head, the way he'd yanked it. He was still grumbling as he picked up the book he'd been reading earlier today and took up where he'd left off. His stomach rumbled as he sat down on the bed and opened to his saved page.

"Yeah, yeah," Arcturus replied. It'd been a month and he hated it here, in London, with his father's family. 'No wonder they left,' he thought as he tried to read and ignore the stabs of hunger. 'I would too, if I could.'