The House of Black. The oldest, and most respected and feared, of the Most Ancient and Noble Houses that resided in the British Isles. Their lands and titles were expansive, their vassals powerful in their own right, and their family magic was as strong and varied as ever. Oh, they had their problems - inbreeding did have that effect - but questionable mental stability paled in significance compared to the sheer magnitude of their power.
Power that Tom Riddle wanted.
These were the thoughts of the man - if he could still be considered such - as he perched upon a wrought metal chair styled as if it were a throne, placed against the high backed walls of his paternal families manor house. A gleam of envy sparked across his crimson eyes as he waited, causing the elves attending their work to cower away from their master even as he ignored their very existence, flipping his fingers impatiently along the arm of the chair.
His thoughts, however, were interrupted as the doors across the room were smoothly opened by unseen hands, allowing a woman to enter. Tall, fair, and fiercely beautiful, from the perfectly coiffed midnight curls down to her dangerously high heeled boots. Bellatrix Black.
She moved forward, inclining her head slightly as she neared the chair, but did not bow as she had in their previous meetings. Worrisome, but not telling. The Blacks had an air for dramatics, this Riddle knew, and in requesting - demanding - a meeting with the Lord of the House himself as he had, he knew he was taking a necessary risk.
"Bellatrix." His voice was deep, rich, seductive - he had used it to his advantage enough times to know. "So good of you to join me."
Instead of the smirk he expected, he was greeted with a complete lack of expression. The Black mask was firmly in place, it seemed.
"Indeed. My Lord will be with us shortly." She spoke with seemingly no inflection, averting her eyes from his minutely and with a perfectly plain tone to her voice. If anything, he had to grant the House of Black his respect for their training. Bellatrix, usually so fiery and - well, insane - was the picture of perfect pureblood composure, neutral to a fault.
It worried him.
He did not have time to ponder this for long, fortunately, because no sooner had the thought finished than his guest had arrived. Appearing seemingly out of thin air, with nary a sound nor swirl of colour - dreadfully controlled magic required for that - the Lord of the House of Black was upon them.
Arcturus Black was an imposing figure, even at his great age, Riddle thought absently. Pitch black hair and dark eyes, characteristic of his House, set in a lined face. Aristocratic, poised, and rather disturbingly moving towards him with a predatory gaze.
"Tom Riddle."
Well. It appeared that the House of Black was more well connected than he had anticipated, which did not bode well for the rest of this meeting. Especially when, Riddle noticed, Bellatrix moved not a muscle in surprise at this supposed revelation.
His thoughts quickly proved correct.
"I will keep this short, in an effort to preserve my composure and reduce my exposure to the likes of you and your kin. You demanded my presence, you have it. You asked for my support, and that of my house, in your endeavour to gain control of these Isles and then, presumably, your next campaigns. This, you will not have.
The House of Black, here and henceforth, will not aid you nor your organisation of so-called Death Eaters in any way. You will not have the help of any of her children, nor the subjugation of any of its members, in any way. The House of Black submits to no one. Especially not the spawn of a squib of a cursed line and a muggle. Consider yourself lucky, Riddle, that I do not deem it worth the effort to engage with you directly, nor can I bring myself to support your opponents, but know that without the support of my House, you will never rule these lands."
The words, clipped and cold, sparked an immediate fury in the red-eyed man upon the chair. His eyes darkened, air crackling around him as his magic responded to the threat presented by the Lord in front of him. His wand appeared, unbidden, in his hand, as he rose in the chair, glowering imperiously down upon the man and girl before him.
"You dare-" He began, his voice once deep and rich now high and cold, but was cut off as the old mans magic burst forth, flooding the room with two darkened auras.
"Silence, you filthy halfblooded fool. You sit in that chair like it's a throne, but you don't even rule yourself. You play with magics beyond your control, and their effect is clear. Horcruxes, Riddle, really? Your sanity is already draining away, I can see. Leave these lands, repair your soul - that is my only advice. You won't find purchase here. Now, come Bellatrix - I see your training is lacking if you allowed yourself to fall for the thrall of this creature. Come, the House awaits."
He reached out an arm, grasped her hand in his, and with shocking silence was gone from the faux throne room.
Fuck.
"Sirius, what are you talking about?"
James Potter looked across the booth at his friend in open shock, not even attempting to conceal his confusion from his closest companion. The man in question, Sirius Black, grinned back in his roguish fashion.
"You heard me, Jamesy boy. My old granddaddy's lost the plot. As of this morning, I am officially reinstated as the heir presumptive to the House of Black. And considering how badly the last case of dragon pox hit my bastard of a father, I expect I'll be heir apparent within the year. The world's gone mad!"
James continued to gape at his friend as the shaggy-haired man downed his butterbeer with tipsy gusto. As he watched the grey-eyed man drain the suds from the bottom of his glass, James allowed his mind to race away as he tried to work his way through this latest development, and what it would mean for the current political landscape. Thank god for his fathers training, otherwise he feared he wouldn't have a clue how to work through the chaos already caused by this war.
First thing was first. The news that had rocked the wizarding world of Great Britain; the declaration of neutrality by Lord Arcturus Black, Sirius' grandfather, along with his reclamation of both Sirius and his uncle Alphard into the family. Andromeda was still persona non grata, of course, but then she had actually ran away from her marriage contract and married Ted instead. To reinstate her into the family would take nothing short of an act of Merlin.
That had been followed by the marriages of Bellatrix and Narcissa, each accompanied by similar statements from the Houses of Malfoy and Lestrange. That alone had turned the tide of the war in their favour. Voldemort had been denied the support of three of the richest and most powerful dark families in Britain, and was actively engaged against the entire light faction. The neutral families were, for the most part, staying neutral.
The reasons for this move on the part of the House of Black had never been properly explained to Sirius, and thus not to James, but it had been widely speculated in the press that there had been some sort of disagreement between Alphard and the Dark Lord. This had all been in the early stages of the war, however, before the fighting had really begun.
Once the war was in full swing, and families were being taken out one-by-one, not much had happened until the attacks on the purebloods began. After the extermination of the McKinnons and the decimation of the Bones, the neutral families were uneasy, but there was no serious change until that fateful night.
The night the Prewett twins died.
James would never forget the news. While he and the Marauders had been a largely self-contained unit at Hogwarts, they had worked with the twins on multiple pranks in their early years. The younger brothers of Molly Prewett, now Weasley, and the twin Lords of their House, they had provided great inspiration for the young foursome.
He'd heard they'd died fighting like heroes.
Well, that was the beginning of the end. After all, it hadn't only been Fabian and Gideon who had died that night - their aunt, Lucretia Black, had been visiting that night. A formidable witch in her own right by all accounts, she had fought with them and died only after taking out several death eaters with most definitely questionable magic. The legality of her self-defence however, hadn't stopped the Daily Prophet from heralding her as a martyr. Nor had it stopped the House of Black from taking its vengeance.
While James was undoubtedly confused by the direction currently being taken by Sirius' mad House, he knew one thing. Voldemort was well on his way to losing this war, if Sirius was set to be the next Lord Black.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…"
"Hagrid. Give him to me."