AN: First off, I own none of this, it all belongs to that JKR who continues to let us dream in her world.
Second, spoilers. If you did click this one first, I recommend going back and reading The Return of the Ancient House of Black first, at least the first few chapters, before returning here.
Lastly, I had long considered going back and adding some chapters in to my original story, but to be honest I never really liked the idea. When I started The Return of the Ancient House of Black, I never had much care to really go into detail about Aries' younger life. To be frank, I kinda liked the fill in the blanks of that. As many have said, the beginning was rushed, and it definitely was. But as time has gone on, and I've filled in moments throughout in my own mind, I realized I left a lot of content in my head that could fill in things for characters and plot lines. So, I decided to start writing some of those down, and here is the first result of that. I'm not sure how far this will go, maybe to when our main character gets his wand, or maybe it will cover the first four years of his education, going deep into the workings of Durmstrang, who knows. It also might do with the response, if no one is particularly interested, then these will be written for myself. But as long as there is interest, I will continue to post. Thanks for all that will read, follow/favorite, and leave good, constructive reviews. The world itself is far too toxic for it to come to a place where we all just seek a good story to distract us from the world. As always, I hope you like this new story, and if you don't, whatever floats your boat y'all.
Her footsteps echoed throughout the quiet home as she made her way to the end of the hallway. It was an eerie state of being, silence, accented by the sole sound of her feet. Too often, the sounds of mother and child, laughter and delight, had filled a home that for years, no, decades, had been reserved for the sound of her own work. Yet, it had all come to an abrupt end. How? It was a question that had berated her mind for days since the incident. Her investigations had brought nothing to light just yet, and the idea of outside help was impossible. No one could know of the boy, not yet. He was not ready, and she feared the consequences of his actions, consequences that threatened to ruin three long years of tireless work.
She was old, and while she may not have looked it, she certainly felt it, though the addition of mother and child to her home had lessened it, to a degree. Children had never been her forte, neither had marriage for that matter. Her freedom had always been precious, and as such, the pointless emotions of love, the longing for the comfort of another, had been pushed down to the deep recesses of her own mind, buried beneath years of Occlumency proficiency. That had all changed the fateful day the portrait of Phineas Black had returned.
His unbelievable tale had sparked action that she scarcely believed to this day. The boy had been a Potter, but the last one that could be tied to the Black family. The last remnant that lived of her precious sister, Dorea. How could she abandon him? Dorea had married that foolishly brave Potter, but even with all their disagreements, she had loved her. Perhaps the only one she had ever truly loved out of her family. And so, she had done what must be done. She had found the girl, she had brewed the potion, and she had saved the boy. And, in doing so, her heart, a cold thing since the death of her sister, had begun to melt.
Regina had become the daughter she had never had, though perhaps not the one that the girl was accustomed to. She had been hard on the girl, who knew little of being a mother outside of showing love and compassion. Her own mother, Violetta, had been the opposite, ensuring that her children knew discipline, honor, prestige, and status long before they ever knew love. Love was a privilege, and it was meant to be earned. That reality had spread into her own interactions with the boy, causing a distance between them that even she was unsure how to deal with. She cursed herself, and, for the first time, she wondered what Regina would do now. Would she comfort the boy? Of course, she would. But was that what the boy needed?
It had not taken long to discover the boy's unparalleled gift that was magic. It was a tool in some hands, a brush in others, but the only way to describe her faux nephew's magical ability was that it was simply a gift. Where it took years for children to understand their magic, to gain its allegiance, his own magic answered to him freely, as if it begged to be wielded. But that was where the problem began.
At times, it seemed as though his magic was a gentle stream, but then it would flow in earnest, like the massive torrent of a river threatening to drown him and all those around him. A steady foundation became a storm. Clear skies into a hurricane. The amount of gold she had spent ensuring the German house could not be destroyed from his maelstrom of magic would've been considered a fortune by some, but she was far wealthier than many, even without access to the actual Black family vault. It was this very action of involatile magic that brought her, at last, to her destination. She opened the door; the simple carving of Aries Orion Black adorning its dull appearance and entered the room.
It was the epitome of Slytherin, as the boy longed to be. Green and silver spread throughout the room, as it had been in his father's bedroom, his blood-adopted father at least. She doubted James Potter would approve, but then the fool should not have been so easily deceived. Aries, blood adopted son of Regulus Black and Regina Malfoy, lay still in his bed, covered by the silver and green blankets. Bandages covered his right shoulder, and the mornings coating of salve on the cuts on his face still glittered in the candlelight. She had kept him in a healing state for nearly four days, ensuring that his body was healed adequately before waking him. His mind would be fragile; she did not need his body suffering as well. She could not help the long sigh that escaped her, as worry marred her features. A wave of her wand positioned a chair appropriately and, after schooling her features properly, pointed her wand at the boy.
"Rennervate." A quick flash of light and Aries' eyes flashed open quickly. The green specks shining in his eyes as they moved frantically around the room until they landed on her. The boy's body stiffened automatically, trying its best to adopt a more proper posture, but the bandaging kept him from succeeding. His eyes flashed to the window for a moment, confirming the light shining through, before he turned back to her.
"Good afternoon, Aunt Cassiopeia." If one did not know the boy, one would've thought it impossible for his words to be so cold. But that was how she had taught him, no? Emotion was weak, and it displayed your intentions. If only he could achieve it more than just with a simple greeting.
"A tactical observation, Aries," Cassiopeia did not return his greeting beyond that and chose silence. He needed to realize the situation itself.
"I do not seem to remember being brought here," She almost wanted to be proud. Asking a question without asking one. Yes, he remembered their lessons. Questions were useful, but one should not rely on them. It gave away intention, like emotion. Let your request be vague, and you might get more than initially sought.
"Perhaps you could tell me what you do remember." Aries' face scrunched for a moment as if trying very hard to recall something before he paled. His entire body stiffened as his eyes began to frantically search the room again.
"Where is mother?" She could not help the thin line her lips produced, the only indication of her disapproval. A question, but not only that, one laced with fear.
"I believed her to be with you last, though she did not state her intentions." His eyes were suddenly fixed on something, the green specks darkening. She knew where he looked, as she had placed it there just this morning. His mother's potions journal, littered with her work, sat on the dresser directly across from the foot of his bed.
"We were working on a potion." His voice lacked emotion, but it had seeped into his face. She fought against the habit of 'tsk-ing' at him, knowing the boy needed something more than just a lesson now. "Something happened, I. . . I did something."
"It would seem you did, but my own investigations did not provide any answers." She could feel the boy's fear, his mind threatening to overwhelm itself. Compassion filled her, only for a moment, and it convinced her to reach out, delicately entering his mind through Legilimency. His natural barriers were there, but they did stop her from placing the slight effect of calming throughout his mind. She needed him to face his own consequences but not lose his mind in the process.
"We were making her special potion." The effect of her mind probe was immediate. His body had relaxed slightly, but she could still see his struggle. "She was putting it in, the ingredient Uncle Lucius got for her, and then I felt something. . . I felt danger. I tried to stop her, I reached out. I felt my magic react. And. . . I. . . I. . ."
"Say it." Her voice came out harshly as his trailed off. She would not accept this weakness. Blacks did not back down.
"I killed her." Anguish replaced the fear that had filled his voice as tears began to fall down his face.
"Yes, yes you did." Cassiopeia saw Aries visibly flinch from her words. "You lost control. I have tried and tried to teach you, but you would not listen. No, you would rather skirt your duties. And what has become of it? Your mother is dead. Because of you."
"Shut up!" The boy cried out, tears falling even faster now. She could feel his magic begin to seep from his body.
"You lacked control, and it cost your mother her life."
"I. . . I. . ." Items began to shake in the room, softly at first, but increasing in their violence with every second. The air felt electric, and she wondered if she would be able to see the lightning move through the room if she looked closely enough.
"Your mother was a fool. You may be a child, but your magic is too volatile. You need guidance, far sooner than others. But she would not listen either. And now her foolish, stubbornness as brought about her death."
"DON'T TALK ABOUT MY MUM!" Glass shattered, as a powerful wave of magic erupted from Aries' body. His eyes flashed in surprise, and suddenly it all stopped. Silence returned to the room as the air became normal, and the vibrations stopped. She could no longer feel his magic.
"No," Cassiopeia said, her voice suddenly soft. "Do not make yourself suffer in such a way. Do not cut yourself off from magic. Release it, let it flow, but slowly." He did not listen to her at first, but then slowly, she felt his magic return to the room. "Even in the deepest depths of our mistakes, we must learn from them, Aries. It is how we better ourselves and ensure we defeat those that would keep us from our goals."
"That's all I am to you," Aries' voice was quiet, but she could hear the edge in it. "Mum. . . mum loved me. You. . . You are cold and cruel and heartless." The words of a five-year-old should not cut so deep, but at that moment, it did. He had no way of knowing how closely those words resembled Dorea's.
"Indeed, I have been," Cassiopeia admitted. "But only because I must. There will be much expected of you, Aries. I have and will continue to do only what will allow you to become who you need and want to be. Your mother knew this. Your mother wanted this."
"Can we. . . Can we not talk about her?" He faced away from her; his eyes clearly focused on the garden his mother had loved to tend.
"We do not have the privilege to be so weak, Aries. Even now, in the wake of your failure, you learn. Forcing yourself to control the raging torrent of magic within you. Do you think it will only get easier? Do you think your mother the last one that you will care for that could be ripped away by your gift? No, it will only get harder. As you grow, your power will grow. As you refine yourself, your magic will as well. And you will meet others, those whom you will come to care for. No, Aries, we must always talk of your mother. Let her, this moment, be the center of your being. Let it drive you, to become more."
"Yes, Aunt Cassiopeia." His voice was flat, no doubt giving her the answer he thought she wanted. Her features softened, and for a moment, she longed to reach out, to embrace the boy as Regina would. He did not see it, of course, as his eyes still sought the comfort of the garden, and by the time he turned back, eyes dead as night, her features were schooled again.
"It would seem that you are not ready to take that lesson to heart just yet." A wave of her wand brought ink, a quill, and a book to rest in Aries' lap. "You will not leave this bed until the morning, save to relieve yourself. You will go to sleep at ten this evening and wake up at seven. At that time, you will be finished with your assignment. I want a detailed tree of every family of the Sacred Twenty- Eight. And your penmanship had best be neat." The boy only gave her a nod before opening the tome that was nearly as large as he was. Cassiopeia left him there, still the epitome of calm and collected, but could not help collapsing against the door as she closed it behind her.
Pain filled her heart, and it threatened to overwhelm her. Pain that she had been forcing herself to not think of, pushing it down like she did with the memories of Dorea. How had she come to love Regina like the daughter she had never had? And how had she come to love the boy that was so anguished at the death of her surrogate daughter? It would've been so easy to break down and embrace the boy, to let their tears flow together, to show the boy the love that had taken over her cold and lonely heart. But years upon years of her own family's teaching helped her to know better.
Being a Black was not so simple as being a Potter or a Longbottom. Every ancient family had their expectations, but the Blacks were a family older than any truly knew. Their burdens heavier than most, their duties harder than others, and their responsibilities greater than any would ever know. Aries could not grow up as others would, surrounded by the laughter of friends and family. No, he had a responsibility, one that she had helped thrust upon his shoulders but one that his blood and magic had accepted. His path would be hard, and she doubted that Aries would ever forgive her for actions once he understood what she would take from him, but she would ensure that he was successful. The tutelage of the Black family was no easy thing, but Cassiopeia would ensure that Aries, Heir to the Most Ancient and Most Noble Family of Black would rise to greatness.