(1976, August)

Walburga

Walburga was ensconced in her favorite parlor, mulling over the problem of her elder son and his refusal to participate in the previous night's Lammas-eve renewal ritual. He was sixteen, now, of course, nearly seventeen, and she could no more force him to give himself freely to the dark than she could force him to take the Dark Mark, though the Powers knew, she had tried.

He threw her every argument back in her face; shrugged off her threats of pain and disownment as though they meant nothing to him. But then, two years ago at Yule he had told Bella that she was going to some muggle Hell for serving her master, and refused to take it back, even when subjected to her cruciatus. Perhaps he thought nothing she could do (or could bring herself to do) to him would compare.

He had refused the last three holidays he had been home – Lammas, Yule, and now Lammas again, and Narcissa had told her ages ago that he only showed up to Samhain and Walpurgis at school, and then sporadically. She was beginning to despair for his ever coming around.

Why, she wondered, for the thousandth time, why did her stubborn, Gryffindor-bold son have to choose to follow the example of Cygnus' thankless whelp who would not be named? Why could he not be more like Regulus, or even Bellatrix? Her oldest niece (more like younger sister, truth be told) had been a trial at times, to be sure, but Sirius was in a category all his own: Bella's stubborn, willful unruliness with the Blood Traitor's sensibilities. It was a nightmare in the making, and she was powerless to stop it.

She felt a distinct sense of foreboding, even before the currents of power which always ran through the house began to shift, moving more quickly, and angrily, drawn to one of the upstairs bedrooms. She ran to investigate, blasting open the door.

Sirius was lying in the middle of his hideously decorated room, apparently unconscious, shivering and sweating, his magic uncontrolled and roiling about him, giving off an unnatural heat. It kept the darker, place-bound magics that suffused the building at bay, the wards tied to Black blood and their individual magic, recognizing each person as part of the household. They circled around him, an invisible cyclone forming between the two powers, discharging crackles of lightning where they lashed out at each other.

She screamed, pushed back by the magic of the house and the family.

No one came running. Orion and Regulus were off at some Wizengamot function or other, and she had not actually called for an elf.

Morgen, Circe, and Lilith – this was bad. What had he done?

A hint of sage permeated the air, not yet obscured by the ozone of lightning strikes. No… he wouldn't have… not even Sirius would dare…

But there, she saw it – a crystal glass, filled with some golden liquid – honey and sweet water – and a sliver potions-knife – not even a proper athame – dropped, and kicked half-way under the bed. He had. He had corrupted the Renewal ritual – turned it to the light…

She watched, torn and horrified, unable to approach through the storm of magic, as the Powers battled over the soul of her son until, at last, he wrenched himself free of the Dark, shattering its bond between the family and itself. She knew, because she felt something within her own magic – her own soul, perhaps – shatter as well.

She screamed again – this time not in fear, but in pain, before she collapsed in a dead faint.

When she came to, Orion and Regulus were at her side. Sirius was lying on the sofa opposite her, just struggling to open his eyes himself.

"Mother?" Regulus asked anxiously. "Mother, are you alright?"

She shook her head slowly, and pushed herself to her feet. The first words out of her mouth were directed at Sirius: "You are no son of mine!"

"Walburga?" Even Orion, it seemed, was taken aback by her declaration.

"Do you even know, Orion, what he has done? Didn't you feel it? Don't you understand?"

"Perhaps you should sit, my dear. You still look rather faint."

"He has declared himself for the light!" she accused, swaying on her feet.

"Walburga, calm yourself," her husband said soothingly. "I am sure no son of ours would –"

"He is no son of ours!" she shrieked. "No child of Black!"

"Regulus, call to St. Mungo's," Orion ordered. The younger boy nodded once before disappearing toward the floo. "Walburga, please, you must be mistaken."

"No," came a rough, muzzy voice from behind him. "No, it's true," Sirius repeated himself, a bit stronger.

"Son?"

"No!"

"I – I'll be disowned, if… if that's what it takes. But it'll be worth it! You – you're horrible people! And you don't even see it! You can't make me follow your precious Dark Lord now! Never!"

"Orion! Orion! I told you! I warned you – those light-hearted, Gryffindor brats! This is all their fault! They've ruined our son – our family!"

Sirius snorted with all the strength he could muster. "Some family. And I make my own choices, mum. That was one of the best things Andromeda Black, who is still my cousin, even if she isn't your niece, EVER TAUGHT ME – HOW TO THINK FOR MYSELF!" He was yelling by the end of it – loudly enough to be heard over Walburga's own tirade about the downfall of the House of Black.

They both stopped to take a breath at once, and Walburga hit the boy with a silencing charm. He pulled his own wand, mortally offended by the tactic, but could not reverse it silently, given his recent trial. Were he still her son, she would be proud of his strength in managing to stand so soon after the incident, but as it was…

"Orion," she hissed in the prolonged silence, "this… this boy has broken the Covenant."

Orion blanched, the full import of his former son's actions settling upon him, wiping away his confusion. "Then it is as you say, wife – he must be no son of ours."

There was a strange look of fear and triumph on Sirius' silenced face as his father turned angrily to him. Orion managed half a step toward the boy, fist raised, before the binding their Head of House had laid upon him struck, freezing him in place. After the near-disaster that was Yule 1966, he was not permitted any degree of violence against his children. Though perhaps, in hindsight, it would have been better had he killed the boy then.

"You must speak to Arcturus at once!" Walburga ordered. "He must be declared Blood Traitor – he must be cast out!"

Orion ignored her, hissing his impotent ire instead. "Get out. Your welfare is no longer our concern. You are no longer welcome in our house. By the will of I who sired you and that of she who bore you, you are no longer our son, and you may rest assured that we will do everything within our power to ensure that you will be stripped of your claim as First Son and Heir of the House of Black."

The boy – the infuriating, insufferable child, bowed, mockingly correctly to his sire, as he had refused to do for so many years in lessons. It made Walburga wonder if he did, truly, understand the full impact of his actions. He should. She had taught him herself. But she had assumed he did not – could not – want to ruin his family.

The darkness in his smirk, despite having chased the darkness from his magic, suggested, though, that his hatred for them went far deeper than she had ever suspected. That he could be so malicious, so spiteful…

"Crucio!" a voice shrieked. She watched him writhe on the ground for several long seconds before she realized it was her own.

She dropped the spell, horrified at her own lapse in control.

The boy pulled himself back to his feet slowly, no longer silenced, his face contorted now in open rage. "I-I-I'llll g-get my my my t-trunk aa-nd g-go."

He turned on his heel, and brushed roughly past his former brother and the summoned Healer, just arriving at the door. Walburga collapsed back to her couch, the Unforgivable a strain on her own magical strength in the wake of the shock of the Covenant breaking, quite aside from being overcome with emotion at the necessity of truly disowning the… the… traitor truly was the only word – it was a spiteful betrayal of the first order.

Her husband and son sat beside her, supporting her in her tears. (The Healer hovered, torn between the Lady of the house and the obviously unwell boy.) They heard the front door – never used – open and slam. A distinctive cannon-blast signaled the arrival of the Knight Bus in the street outside, and another its departure.

That was it.

He was gone.

Walburga pulled herself back together.

She had to: it was time to see what could be salvaged.

Bellatrix

"I have disinherited him, but I will not disown the boy," Arcturus announced, two weeks after the catastrophe. The entire family had assembled to hear the verdict.

"But, Pater! The Covenant!" Walburga objected. She was clearly both furious and terrified, so much so that she had not been able to hide it since the morning of Sirius' betrayal, striking at the very foundations of their House.

Bella, on the other hand, was vaguely irritated and slightly disappointed, but unsurprised by Sirius' defection. It was almost a relief in a way: he had been pulling away from the family for years, and she could now lay to rest any slim chance that he might come around to a proper way of thinking. In any case, it wouldn't be her problem much longer. The others, of course, had a bit more to worry about. She reflected on the full import of her cousin's decision for the House as a whole as she tuned out her aunt's arguments and waited for the family meeting to end.

The Covenant was (had been) the foremost cause of the notable differences between the House of Black and every other Noble family over the past three and a half centuries. They lived fast, died young, worshipped the darkest, most destructive aspects of Magic, and indulged in insane risks with no fear that their line would meet its end through their folly, because once upon a time (in 1625), a deal had been struck between the House and the Powers: "So long as the House of Black serves the Dark, the House shall never die, and its scions shall always have magic."

Orion had told her that, a lifetime ago. It was his incomplete retelling of the tale, just before her seventh birthday, that had inspired her to call upon the Powers, begging for vengeance and the strength to resist her father.

"In the year 1624, the Black Family came the closest it ever has to dying out. Nigel, Lord Black, the last of his name, and his wife, Catarina, had only two children, twins, Onyx and Mela. They, the parents, were assassinated in a blood feud, on Midwinter's Eve when the twins were fourteen. The children ran, and escaped through their parents' sacrifice. They stayed in hiding for a year and a day, and when they emerged, it was with a dark and terrible vengeance, wearing the power of the Dark like cloak and crown. They wiped their enemies from the face of the Earth before marrying like the Pharaohs of old, brother to sister, and taking their rightful place at the forefront of Society…"

There had been a ritual, dedicating the family, for eternity, to the Dark Powers. It was never recorded, perhaps because it could only be used once, or because they guarded the secret too jealously from other Houses to risk committing it to writing. In truth, Bella rather suspected that there was nothing to record – that it was not, in fact, a formal ritual at all, but more like her own dedication: a desperate plea in the dark, to the Dark, intent and will and an offer of anything.

Regardless of how it had been done, every child born to the House of Black, bearing the name and claimed by the family magic, was – had been, for centuries – born dedicated to the Dark, with their magic already attuned to the dark end of the spectrum of magic.

"In exchange for the sacrifice of their children's children's choices to serve or not to serve, the Dark Powers allowed Onyx and Mela each to make a single wish. Mela, who loved her house and its history, asked that the dark powers ensure the continuation of their line. Onyx, who loved magic and its power, asked the dark to gift his family with magic to raise them above all others, to be like princes among wizards, and thus the Covenant was forged."

Orion had conveniently left out the conditions under which these wishes were granted. Bella hadn't learned them until Cygnus had informed Arcturus that she had made her Choice. It was decreed that Onyx and Mela would have children to carry on their line, but only together, and if any child of Black should wish to reach that same level of power to which Onyx and Mela were raised, they would need to make their own sacrifice. When Onyx impudently asked what that sacrifice would be, the Dark decreed that the Blacks would have power at the price of their humanity: the origins of the Choice.

For a time after Mela and Onyx, the Family teetered on the edge of greatness and complete self-destruction, making their Choices and dedicating themselves to Death and Destruction and Chaos, losing all restraint. They burnt hot and bright, annihilating themselves and everyone around them in their pursuit of power: gifts of the Dark are almost always a double-edged blade. After a century or so (seven very short and wild generations), the Black blood was finally diluted enough that the family began to mellow and reign themselves in: the last Black who had made the Choice was born the 1740s.

Every Black still re-dedicated themselves to the Dark every Lammastide, but they set aside Onyx's gift, holding Mela's paramount – until now.

It was highly ironic, Bella decided, that in the same generation wherein a Black once again made the Choice, taking fullest advantage of the Covenant, it had finally be broken. It did not affect, so far as she could tell, the magic of any Blacks already born, nor her dedication to Eris as a Black Mage. She hadn't even felt it end, as her own connection with the Dark superseded that of the family magic. And she found that she didn't very much care whether the family's continuation was ensured by the Powers or not. She had killed more than her fair share of them as she established her loyalty to her Lord's Death Eaters, hardly sparing a thought for the Covenant, outside of restricting her 'pruning' to the cadet branches of the tree, lest the Powers strike her down for coming to near to ending the House herself. Besides, intra-familial power struggles ending in death were practically a family tradition.

She cared quite a lot more that Sirius had so drastically attempted to force them the House to disown him. It wasn't as though his leaving was even slightly unanticipated – he had made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with the Black family for years, but the finality of his last act, turning away from the Dark irrevocably, was… damning.

It said that there was no hope for reconciliation between them – either Sirius and the Blacks, or the two of them personally.

It was truly disappointing, the way he had turned out, because out of the three remaining Blacks she was actually inclined to claim as family (Cissy, Siri, and Reggie), Sirius was the one who reminded her most of herself. They were very much alike in personality, before Gryffindor had ruined him. When he was a child, she often thought that he would be the redemption of the House of Black: strong enough and bold enough to put the decades of Arcturus' neglect to rights.

Now, she supposed, the only way he would come into the position of Paterfamilias would be if every other Black died, including Regulus and Orion. Even then, there was a very good chance that the family magic would not fully recognize him.

Reggie, who now bore the responsibilities of the Heir, was the least suited to ruling the family out of the three: he was, in a word, soft. He had Orion's normally easygoing temperament, but he never lost it like his father was wont to do. He was a follower by nature, not a leader. A courtier, not a commander or a king. There was, of course, a place for such wizards, and she would welcome him into the Death Eaters' ranks with open arms, but under his guidance, the House of Black would, she was certain, lose its primacy among the Noble Houses, becoming weak and easily swayed.

If she were in Arcturus' position, she would dissolve Narcissa's marriage contract and force Cissy and Reggie to wed. Narcissa might be every inch as much a proper Lady as Regulus was a courtier, but she had the ruthlessness and political ambition he lacked, while he held the bloodline. The two of them together might, might, be able to revive the House again, their children inheriting unopposed by the multitudes who could make a claim on maternal relationships.

It was hardly any of her concern, however: she had only just agreed to wed Rodolphus Lestrange, in order to take control of the Lestrange finances – a task impossible if she refused to give up the Black name, at least legally. In a few short months, the problem would be out of her hands entirely, and Arcturus had never listened to her advice, anyway. The best she could do for her two remaining family-members was to ensure that Regulus would be taken care of within her Master's ranks, and Cissy as Lucius' Lady. (She supposed that, if Narcissa had to marry outside of the family, it was best she marry a Death Eater, over whom Bella could keep a close eye.)

"Silence!" Arcturus bellowed, drawing her attention back to the farce playing out before her. "What's done is done – the Covenant cannot be repaired. And if I disowned every one of you who has committed crimes against this family, I would be left with no family at all! Two blood traitors, the First Daughter swearing her loyalty to other parties and the Heir looking to follow her. Three parents who drove them to it, and a fourth murdered by his own daughters – yes, I know about that Narcissa! – one nephew who has refused to do his duty for his family, and the Black Curse has taken all the rest!"

'Black Curse' – ha! The Black Curse – the reason the average life expectancy in the family was only about age 70, as far back as the 1600s – had only ever been other Blacks. It had taken twenty-one deaths, over the course of five years, but she had managed to pare down the cadet branches of the family such that they were essentially gone – all those who remained were married out or had been old enough that they had died of their own accord in the six years since she declared her Mastery project complete. Accidents, suicides, a few 'natural' deaths… she would be lying if she said she wasn't a bit impressed with herself for managing to pull it off without raising more suspicions.

"This family hardly needed the boy's transgression to destroy itself! And he is not the only one to blame! Should I disown Orion for casting a Soul Eater on his own son? Bellatrix for saving him, and biasing him against the dark all at once? Walburga, for failing to instill in her pupil the true importance of the Covenant? Our family no longer holds the favor of the Dark, and as such I cannot take the risk of disowning one of the two unwed males who might yet pass on the name!"

Bella sniggered to herself. Sirius, pass on the Black name? It was more likely that Alphard would suddenly agree to leave his partner and remarry. The sterility curse she had placed upon the former Heir could be reversed, but only by its caster, and she wasn't about to do him the favor of tracking him down to remove it. He had been opposing herself and her master increasingly publically over the past two years, and she was certain her initial reason for placing it still applied.

"Please, Bella, enlighten us as to which part of this you find amusing!"

"You wouldn't understand, Pater," Bella drawled insolently. Narcissa and Regulus' eyes widened in identical expressions of awe. She should spend more time with them, she noted. Not that she didn't approve of their esteem for herself, but they still held far too much for their Head of House, if speaking her mind to him was enough to inspire such a reaction. Especially if Regulus was now meant to be the Heir.

"Stay behind after the meeting, Bellatrix," Arcturus ordered her, eyes narrowed. "We have much to discuss, not least of which is your engagement to that buffoon Lestrange." She nodded impassively. It was only expected – she knew her Master had sent word to her Head of House informing the latter of their recent decision. She had every intention of following through with the wedding, regardless of Arcturus' thoughts on the matter, though whether she would allow Lestrange to consummate the marriage, she rather doubted. One had to have some standards, after all. "The rest of you, get out of my sight. I will inform you all as needed when I have decided the course of action we must take in light of this development. Do nothing to endanger our family or our name in the meanwhile." The House of Black stood as one, bowing to its paterfamilias. He sneered at them, and dismissed them with a wave of his hand. "Do try not to embarrass me any further, while you're at it."