Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything you can recognise from any books or TV series or movies. I do however take liberties with the plots or mentions provided by JKR or other writers. The only profit I'm getting out of it is improving my English.
Title: Secrets & Keepers – Supernova
Rating/Warnings: R/M [AU; identity crisis; teenage rebellion; canon typical violence; profanity; discussion of and references to past events of gore nature; references to off-screen original character deaths; pure-blood propaganda]
Characters and pairings: Hermione Granger with the Granger family and wide assortment of original characters (some of which were referenced in Secrets & Keepers – Collision Curse) and surprise guest appearances from canon characters. References to Collision Course pairings and a couple of minor OC pairings. No Hermione's pairings aside of brief mentions about her crush on Lockhart.
Summary: Hermione learns the hard way that there's a lot of truth that shouldn't be passed around. It's a story of multiple crises starting from identity, trust in one's loved ones, the trust which one's friend put in one. It's a story of doubts which people voice about other people. It's a story of friendships that are forged in crisis. It's also a love story as much as a story about love. A pre-PoA AU.
Word count: About 10 000.
Spoilers: Canon spoilers for PS/SS, CoS and pre-Hogwarts PoA. Linked to but doesn't require reading of Secrets & Keepers – Collision Course.
Chapter summary: Larry takes Hermione to visit her Aunt's grave.
AN: First, allow me to state that views presented by the characters aren't the views of the author. That said, I've been sitting on certain aspects of this chapter for over a year even though I didn't start writing Supernova until June. You will understand why soon enough. Thanks to my beta I can start updating this story on a faster two chapters per week schedule... Provided that ffnet won't eat it again as it did with chapter nine. But in case it does happen again I cross-post my recent stories on my ao3 account, so even if ffnet is down for some reason or is doing something weird like not showing updated chapters you can always found it there. New chapters are usually posted within 20 minutes of each other.
The story updates on Tuesday and Thursday.
I hope that You will find this story enjoyable. I would be the most grateful for constructive criticism.
Beta read by Regnbuen
Secrets & Keepers - Supernova
Chapter ten: 6th July 1993
6th July 1993, Kensal Green Cemetery, London.
Larry had warned her that side-along apparation wasn't the most pleasant way of travelling for first or second timers. He also mumbled something about tenth time being potentially unpleasant but tried to cheer her up by saying that eventually people get used to it. The key apparently was the trust which one put in the apparating party.
And Hermione did trust him. It was hard not to after the gorgon that guarded the entrance to Sirius Black's flat. He was kind and sympathetic but most of all he knew her aunt and he offered to take her to visit her grave.
She didn't puke, but mostly because she had nothing to puke with in the first place. By the time Larry apparated them to Kensal Green Cemetery the light breakfast she had eaten was nothing but a distant memory. Not that she was hungry or wanted to eat after experiencing side-along apparation.
But she didn't resist flopping to the ground as soon as she realised that she was standing on solid ground.
"It gets better," said Larry as he offered her his hand.
"I hope it does," she sighed. "Because if it doesn't as soon as I'm legal I'm getting a motorcycle and enchanting it to fly," she replied.
"May I ask why?" asked Larry curiously. "Brooms are quite reliable."
"Neither as a transportation method or as a cleaning device," quipped Hermione before she pushed herself from the ground. "Vacuum-cleaners are far more reliable for the latter and if I have to be exposed to the weather I rather be on something from which I can't fall off if I sneeze in case of the former."
Larry chuckled, "I heard that before."
"From Mirzam?" asked Hermione curiously.
"Weirdly enough, no," said Larry as he shook his head. "From what I managed to gather she was a good flier. Former Quidditch seeker but not good enough or interested in professional Quidditch. Sirius on the other hand… he had a list of issues with that industry that was a mile long. That's why he got himself a motorbike, great thing it was, all black and shiny, with a very comfortable sidecar. Used to tinker with it in whatever spare time he had left. Very quiet or alternatively very loud, fast and agile and obviously enchanted."
"Curious," hummed Hermione. "What enchantments did he use?"
"A plethora of them, from speed-enchantments to the most obvious cloaking spells and resizing ones. Could have been confiscated when he was arrested if it wasn't lost somewhere," replied Larry with a sigh.
"Well, I won't be allowed to drive for a couple of years and my parents will get a conniption if I get a bike," said Hermione with a shrug. "I'll worry about researching that later."
"That's the spirit," quipped Larry before he looked around. They were standing a couple of feet away from a pathway that in a gentle curve led to the left and right. Then he looked at the trees that surrounded them and appeared to make up his mind. "This place always confuses me," he admitted as he started leading them to the right. "It's the trees, you see, and sadly not enough of visits over the years. I remember that she was buried underneath the shadow of trees not too far away from the train tracks, but for some reason instead of the over ground one I always wind up within some distance of the metro station."
"Is it the only apparation spot here?" questioned Hermione.
"There are a couple around the place and one in the administration building," explained Larry. "It's not a typical wizarding necropolis, too Muggle for purebloods, but it does offer such burials. Hers wasn't one of them, the Ministry recognised her as dead and had issued a death certificate but back then they weren't exactly happy with sparing masters of the ceremonies to empty coffins."
"Why?" asked Hermione quickly. "Why was the coffin empty?"
"Because there was no body to bury," replied Larry. "And I know what you're going to say right now," he continued as she opened her mouth to protest. "It's not that simple, my dear. Not all caskets hold bodies and not all deaths are obvious. Hers wasn't," he paused and sighed.
"What happened?" asked Hermione nervously, partly wanting to learn how it happened and partly dreading the description.
"She was an Auror on Diagon Alley duty on the day when Arthur's Coven and Common Magic had organised their orientation trip for first year Muggleborns. Arthur's Coven had their own shopping street down in Cornwall but compared to the size of Diagon Alley it was tiny and at the time they didn't have a wandmaker in there or in the area. At the very least not one in whose abilities the Headmistress trusted very much. The Ollivanders might not be the only wandmakers in the country, but they were always the ones most trusted to offer their best work without additionally finning Muggleborns simply for their existence. Bellatrix Lestrange and her entourage had attacked them. It was a swift, organised attack meant to decimate the population of Muggleborns. Luckily for them the trip was chaperoned both by Mirzam and another Auror whose name escapes me at the moment as well as three teachers from each school. No one other than Mirzam died, but one of the teachers was severely wounded by a part of the entourage. Mirzam went against Bellatrix and while she managed to succeed in drawing her away from the kids, she went against her one on one and…" he stopped for a moment. "It wasn't known at the time, and hadn't been known until the trials had started, but the healer who confirmed her pregnancy was engaged to a minor Death Eater that wanted to rise in the ranks. While I never had any practical knowledge on how the examination is handled, I do know that part of the interview requires the expectant mother to give the name of the father if she knows it," he paused again. "Mirzam gave Sirius's name, that much I'm certain of, and by doing so she signed her own death sentence."
"Why?" asked Hermione.
"Because while Sirius might have been officially estranged with the Black family he wasn't completely cast out of it. He was a direct descendant of the last known Head of the Black family, and at the time the sole male heir of name, blood and magic. And by all accounts she was a Muggleborn that was carrying his child. That alone was enough for Bellatrix to want her dead, hell, her being a Muggleborn and having the audacity to get in her way would have been enough. But killing the mother of Sirius's child and therefore his child in the process was an added bonus," explained Larry and sighed heavily. "I don't know what kind of spell she had used, nobody does, all that's known is that after a short exchange of spells Bellatrix hit her with something that literally wiped her out of existence, leaving behind only her wand, engagement ring and enough magical backlash where she stood that would have killed a dragon, let alone a young witch. Then she cackled like a maniac, claimed that it served her right and disapparated. Because there was no body the scene was very diligently examined. One of the theories that I heard was that Bellatrix caught her while she was intending to disapparate to give herself some distance or cover and whatever she used struck Mirzam midapparation causing the magical backlash. Her body was never recovered even though the entire alley and surrounding streets were searched very thoroughly."
"How certain were they of that?" asked Hermione sceptically.
"Well, I know Mirzam well enough to know that if she somehow managed to survive it she would have turned up, if not within couple of days then at the very least within the time it would have taken her to physically recover. Couple of months to about a year afterwards. Sirius wasn't that optimistic, but then again he knew better than I did what Bellatrix was capable of. They were cousins, you see, and with Bellatrix being substantially older than him and his brother, as well as her own sisters, they were all terrified of her when they were children. From what I heard with good reasons, apparently when one of her sisters was an infant she tried to murder her. She was sent away to live with her grandparents afterwards, surely in hopes that they would manage to rein her in, but…" he paused and grimaced.
"It didn't work," offered Hermione.
"Maybe it did, maybe it didn't. What I do know was that theirs wasn't the most happy and peaceful of unions. Their daughter, Sirius's mother, was an old maid that at the time lived with them and was surely a couple knuts short of a galleon, and with such role models and guardians the environment most certainly contributed to amplifying Bellatrix's violent tendencies. Then there was her fascination with dark magic, that certainly didn't help matters. And the girl that eventually returned to the bosom of her family was just as wild as she was when she left it but far more conscious of the effect of her actions. Around a couple of her relatives, like her parents or the Head of the Black family she attempted to be on her best behaviour, but as soon as she was out of their sight she did nothing but torment. Mostly the family house-elves, they got the lion's share of the abuse, but it wasn't limited only to them, her own sisters were afraid of being left alone in the room with her or having her alone in the room with their cousins. I do know that some attempts were being made to rein her in, like minimising her contact with the elves to the barest of necessities and strict prohibition of complying to her orders as long as they weren't confirmed by either of her parents…"
"That's quite intimate knowledge of what went on in that household," observed Hermione. "Are you distantly related to them or something?" she asked curiously.
"No," chuckled Larry. "But you have to understand that I went to Hogwarts in 1918 which even to our kind was a turbulent year and it showed. Normally the sorting odds don't differ too drastically from a relatively even number of students per house divided between boys and girls. But every now and again an odd year happens when the proportions are off. My year was one of those. I was one of the two Slytherin boys against fourteen girls and they were a mite overwhelming company. Less to me because I was a half-blood and my father's family, while magical, had nothing to their name other than their backs hunched from hard work and the callouses on their hands. But Regulus Black, he was the younger son of one of the most politically powerful families and at the time a grandson on the current Headmaster of Hogwarts. While he was socially smart and could be charming if he wanted he never felt comfortable in social situations. He was a house misplaced Ravenclaw at heart and was happiest when he was buried under a pile of books or tinkering with something. And the frailty of genius is that it needs an audience, a genuine audience, and I provided that. I usually left him to his own devices, occasionally making sure that he made it up to a meal or to class, and when he wanted to talk something out I offered a willing ear. Not out of obligation, mind you, I was fascinated by the connections his mind could make and I genuinely liked him. He could at times have a morbid sense of humour but that suited me just fine…" he paused.
"You miss him," offered Hermione.
"I do," sighed Larry. "Can't say that I would have called him my best friend by the time we graduated, but this," he gestured with his hand at his missing appendages. "It proved to me who was worthy of that description. My former colleagues had deserted me, a girl that I was planning to eventually propose to had ran away from the room screaming as soon as she saw me…" he shook his head. "But he?" he chuckled. "Showed up massively delayed, regaling me with a story on how he managed to commander a Muggle airplane from Germans and how he had to escape the pursuit while force feeding me with lunch I could barely bring myself to look at, let alone eat. Then he went to argue with my doctors about transferring me back to England. Followed me through the stint in St Mungo's which nearly bloody killed me and removed me from there when he realised that my healers gave up on me like I had. He refused to do the same and with the help of the elves he nursed me back to health until I was well enough to just wallow in my misery. He started bringing around people that motivated me, so did he, but at the same time he tried to figure out why an attempt to fit in prosthetics nearly blood killed me. He gave up nearly two years of his life to ensure that on the day I left his care I was physically and mentally sound and had some form of support system in place when I felt down."
"Sounds like a good friend," said Hermione.
"One of the best I made over the years," said Larry softly. "A persistent and annoying bugger at times but one of the best people I ever had the good fortune of knowing. Which makes his loss all the more tragic, it came too soon and what was even worse, it came from his own hand. By accident, but his brother could never believe that," he paused. "He came to me on the day of his funeral which I chose to not attend because compared to them…" he grimaced. "He was my friend, but we had always avoided family gatherings. I knew his older brother, sister and parents though. It was hard not to, seeing that we were all in the same house. But he was a seventh year when we both had been ickle first years. He was a Head Boy with a pretty heavy school load, and even back then there were whispers that he was being groomed into the position of future head of the family, so whatever attention he had left was occupied by maintaining connections which his father and grandfather had found desirable. And I wasn't exactly one of them, my family had no money or political power to speak of and with my mother being a Muggleborn I wasn't exactly a proper choice for a friend. My friend didn't mind that, neither did his brother. I once heard him telling their sister that he was happy that their brother made a friend at all. And when he was in one of his benevolent moods and had time to spare for us he was willing to lend a willing ear to clarify whichever issue had bothered us."
"What was his name?" asked Hermione.
"Arcturus. Arcturus Black, their sister was named Lycoris. She was a quiet, fragile looking girl that constantly had to be chased out of the music room and if not out of there then she could be found in greenhouses, usually up to her elbows in dirt," answered Larry with a soft smile. "She was an occasional visitor in her brother's estate and used to bemoan the quality of work of the shoemaker that supplied them for decades with footwear while she was visiting. At the time I was still relearning how to use a wand with my non-dominant hand and taking care of myself was hard work, let alone trying to adapt the trade that I once knew into new circumstances. It helped, her complaints and sneaky comments on how even with one hand I could fix the shoes made by someone who had both," he smirked. "Now I know that I was being played because the first shoes I made for her had to be uncomfortable as hell. But she kept coming back, bringing magazines and samples of fabric, joking about how nobody could make this or that design work. She was truly a dear," he sighed. "Died a couple of years after Reg, had a massive stroke while she was working in her garden on the eve of a grand ball that was hosted at the Black manor. Sent her elves away to help with preparations, that's why she hadn't been found until next morning. Spent a night outside, in icily cold rain and in spite all of the efforts to save her she died within a day without regaining consciousness."
"I'm sorry," whispered Hermione.
"So am I," said Larry softly. "Reg's death was hard on Arcturus, especially considering the circumstances. He never believed that his death was accidental even though both French Aurors and I tried to convince him that it was. He even went as far as dragging me to Paris with him as his consultant. You were his friend, he told me, the one who knew him best. If you will say that he died by his own hand I will believe you," he said and paused for a moment. "Never had though, when he stopped believing in murder he convinced himself that it was a premeditated suicide."
"And you didn't believe that?" asked Hermione curiously.
"No, Reg was a brilliant potioneer but his area of interest had never been in perfecting recipes into working flawlessly. He was always far more interested in figuring out what could possibly go wrong with them. Had he been born to any other family but the Blacks he most certainly would have made his living as a researcher at St Mungo's or a laboratory worker for the Aurors. But because he was a Black and his father had decided that such work would be beneath him, Reg decided to self-employ as a private consultant. He hared out to France as soon as he managed to weasel money out of the old man for his mastery program, got his Third and Second Class mastery but by the time he graduated from the latter he had gained enough notoriety as a consultant that he couldn't be bothered to pursue it further. He did most of his work on the continent, most often in Franc,e but he was a polyglot so over the years he visited many interesting places. And as the years passed and I established my small business, he developed a mysterious streak of bad luck that plagued his shoes. Weirdly he always kept coming back to me even when I teased him that he should make use of the French shoemakers," explained Larry.
"You know…" started Hermione.
"Yes, I know," said Larry simply. "But that's what friends do. I never liked being a charity case, one of our biggest arguments was over his invitation to retire to France. But he knew me and he knew that while I could and would reject charity, I could never refuse work. So work was what he gave me, I made more shoes for him than I ever made for anyone else and in a relatively short time. That duty upon his death had befallen on his brother and sister, even though he left me a pile of gold to sort myself out as well as my missing appendages. But he knew me and he knew that if I found someone in greater need of it I would give it up. That's how I eventually acquired Arcturus and Lycoris as clients and after a while Arcturus's wife. I have no doubts that Reg had left with him instructions to look after me, and he did, in the only way I was willing anyone to look after me, through work."
"That's how you know about Bellatrix," said Hermione with a nod.
"Mostly from Reg, a little bit from Lycoris. Arcturus tried to avoid family related subjects but the older we grew and the less our conversations strayed from politics the more he opened himself up. Not enough for me to call us friends but enough…" he shrugged. "He was a very private man and I proved to be a soul of discretion. He wasn't pleased with the state in which his father had left the family. In particular he resented the underage marriages, claimed that they were doing more harm than good. His cousin, Bellatrix's grandfather, was married off to a woman eighteen years his senior when he was all but twelve years old and had done the same to his son, albeit the bride he picked was much closer to him in age."
"Why would anyone do that?" asked Hermione curiously.
"Money, power," sighed Larry. "And children obviously. You have to understand that both unions had been made in particularly dreary times. The Great Muggle War didn't decimate our population as much as that of the Muggles, but the flu pandemic that followed it did. And that was when Grindelwald was on the rise so people were terrified and grasping at straws. Cygnus, because it was his bright idea to see his son married off at that age, even though he had three older brothers, decided that they were all ill equipped to produce an heir that was worthy of the title as the next head of the family."
"Why?" asked Hermione.
"Well, Sirius had Arcturus and Regulus but neither of them were married even though both were at the age when a proper pureblood wizard should begin to look for a proper pureblood lady to court, neither did they make any attempts to do so. Then there was Phineas who was far more interested in tinkering with Muggle stuff than looking for a wife. Then there was Arcturus, who actually got married around the same time as Cygnus did, and he even managed to produce three children with his wife. Unfortunately they were all daughters. His wife had perished in childbirth and even years later he refused to remarry," explained Larry. "There was also the disparity in their ages. Sirius was between twelve to thirteen years old when Cygnus was born and never had a particularly good relationship with him to begin with. Top that with the fact that their mother died in childbirth a mere hours after Cygnus was born. Not exactly good basis for a decent relationship, particularly with their age difference. Sirius never hid from his brother that he was particularly against Cygnus's general existence because old Lady Black had nearly died while giving birth to their sister a couple years prior," he added and paused.
"Sounds awful," said Hermione softly.
"Then there was the title itself and Sirius being a model Head of the Black family. Proper marriage to a pureblood of a neutrally conservative standing, three children, two of which were sons that would carry out the name, blood and titles. Couple that with financial dependency to his brother's good humour and you get one hell of a rivalry. Because of that and the disparity in the ages between Arcturus, Regulus and their other cousins, by the time when Cygnus's children were old enough for him to plot doing something useful with them, their relationship had been strained enough for Cygnus to be very surprised when he received an invitation to Arcturus's wedding."
Hermione snorted softly.
"Had their relationship been less hostile Cygnus would have known that the only reason Arcturus was holding out with courting his intended was because he had to take care of her prearranged match," added Larry, sounding almost cheerful.
"Did he kill him?" asked Hermione sceptically.
"Merlin, no," snickered Larry. "Had to wait for the poncy git to return to England from his very extended trip around the world. Once he did, Arcturus devoted a couple of months to shadow him for long enough to gather incriminating evidence that would have caused Mr Macmillan to dissolve the marriage contract without any financial repercussions."
"And what about his intended?" asked Hermione sceptically. "Did she had no saying in it?"
"Oh, she was in on it from the beginning," said Larry cheerfully. "Had been very much against that union because her heart had chosen that cunning old coot. Even helped him to organise the unveiling of her potential husband's misdeeds at the eleventh hour right before the wedding. Quite a scandal it was, some inheritance was involved that would otherwise be lost to another family if she hadn't gotten married by her twenty-fourth birthday on which the wedding day was appointed."
"So Arcturus swooped in, got the rival out of the way and offered to restore his bride's honour and saved the inheritance," said Hermione.
"Let's not forget having an entire wedding arranged and paid for by his rival's family," added Larry with a smile. "All the Blacks had to do was show up. He always had a certain flair for dramatics. Old Lady Black was quite cross with him for that but not for long. Cygnus on the other hand was furious with him because his surprise, get your rival out of the way wedding overshadowed that of his son that followed it a couple weeks later. It was that Black family wedding people kept talking about for months. Their daughters were even born a day apart. But what really pissed off Cygnus was the discovery that Arcturus's son Orion and his older grandson Alphard instead of being invested in looking for proper wives had been very interested in examining what was beneath their robes. Together."
Hermione snorted.
"Sounds like a lovely family," she commented.
"Some better than most," said Larry more sombrely. "Cygnus's daughter, Cassiopeia was an interesting customer. Started her adult life as a Ministry employee, some undersecretary in one of the departments, never married but flirted with anyone that looked at her for too long. Then at the age of fifty-five she decided to retire and moved to Italy to run a brothel. Until her very least days she continued to wear high-heels, some of them as sharp as needles and no woman her age had any right to look as good in them as she did. Weirdly, even though she was surrounded by far better designers at the beginning of each season she returned to England to equip her wardrobe with my shoes. Claimed that what was good for Lady Black was good enough for her."
"What about Sirius's parents?" asked Hermione pensively.
Larry grimaced before he answered, "It was an unhappy union, one into which Pollux had managed to coerce Arcturus and Orion. Arcturus never cared too much about continuing the bloodline, especially after Melania lost the second son she was carrying. The circumstances in which it happened had rendered her barren. If it wasn't for that maybe they would have had a couple more children and the travesty that was Orion's marriage wouldn't have happened. But it did. From what I heard Pollux had threatened to marry Alphard off to a family which name escapes me at the moment. Not that it really matters, what did, was that they employed chastity spells in their marriage contracts and that they were very homophobic. To the point of having individuals suspected of homosexual leanings disappear in questionable circumstances. No one ever managed to pin anything serious on them but…"
"But it worked," said Hermione.
"And it took an ageing old maid from Pollux's hands. Arcturus was furious with him but Orion consented to the match in the hopes that Walburga, who like I said was a couple knuts short of a galleon, wouldn't mind her brother's presence in their home. I'm not sure about her but Alphard minded, greatly. Was it because their public exposure would have affected his sister's honour? Or had the proposition to be a kept man offended him? I'm not sure. Alphard was one of those that took his footwear concerned business elsewhere. So Orion and Walburga got married, sometime early in 1959, January or February, Sirius was born in November and Regulus followed him about a year and a half later. Sirius never spoke of what his childhood looked like but from Arcturus I know that the boys spent as much time as was appropriate with him and Melania."
"What happened to them?" asked Hermione pensively.
"Death, eventually," sighed Larry. "Regulus died in early November 1979, shortly after he was followed by Orion. Melania suffered a massive stroke around the same time as Mirzam died and while she survived it her condition was so dire that Arcturus locked himself up with her in the manor. He only emerged after Sirius's arrest and was seen arguing with Bartemius Crouch, Minister Bagnold and Dumbledore. What about, I have no idea, he never mentioned it. Maybe securing Sirius more comfortable accommodations than the ones down there. If that was the case, it didn't work. If it was about something else he never mentioned. All that I know is that he was seen screaming at them that they would pay for it. What it precisely it was I have no idea."
"Did they?" asked Hermione.
"Well, Barty's son was caught along with Bellatrix and her usual entourage torturing the Longbottoms a couple of weeks afterwards. I'm uncertain of the extent of Arcturus involvement in their exposure or the choice of victims. The man I knew wouldn't have sacrificed innocent people for the sake of getting even. But that man in a span of two years had buried his grandson, his son, seen the love of his life turning from a vivacious ageing lady into a motionless shadow of herself, then Sirius happened and after Sirius there was the attack on Lucretia that killed her husband and traumatised her beyond recovery," answered Larry grimly. "Hard to say who or what was the collateral damage in his situation. All that I know is that the man I saw the last time before he completely locked himself up in the manor was a shadow of the man I knew. He lost weight, not that he had a lot to lose to begin with; gone grey…ish even though at seventy-nine he still had a mane of heir as black as it had been at nineteen."
"And then he died," finished Hermione.
"Eventually," said Larry with a shrug. "Not for another ten years during which he made no contact with anyone. His daughter remained under the care of her late husband's relatives. She never left her house like he had but unlike him she allowed people to visit. Only the closest family. I have no idea what happened to Melania. The Macmillans never announced her death, or if they did I missed it. Walburga died the earliest, in 1985, there were some whispers about a suicide which was a result of a forced confinement to which Arcturus supposedly subjected her to in retaliation for something. It's unclear because Pollux was the source of those rumours and everything he said publicly always had to be taken with a spoonful of salt. Pollux eventually followed her in 1990, never receiving the honours his father coveted for him. Neither did his son even though Arcturus supposedly died in late 1991. Then Cygnus died in early 1992, heart attack from what I heard. Cassiopeia and Lucretia followed them in the summer."
"What do you mean by supposedly?" asked Hermione suspiciously.
"There's a law, one that's been established since back when our kind first started to wander too far from home for long periods. It was nothing more than a leash for those of our kind that was too curious to bear in mind family obligations," explained Larry. "It states simply that for any living wizardfolk to be declared legally dead they have to fail being seen by a human or any living being for ten years. Hence a trend in taking house-elves along for the explorations of the world if one has any. If anything happened they were obliged to notify the family and if nothing happened and a decade passed without contact all that was required was sending a house-elf to a meeting with the head of the family and a ministry official," he added. "Master isn't dead, master is just busy with frolicking with lions down in Africa when he isn't frolicking with Malaria."
"Frolicking with malaria?" squeaked out Hermione.
"The curse of nineteenth century explores, particularly in Africa. It was only back in the mid-twenties when the healers proved that our kind cannot contract malaria. We can contract other curious things native to that region but not malaria. It's not as if folks back at home will figure out who Malaria is unless one is careless enough to knock her up and some of them even managed to get away with that too," explained Larry.
"Seriously?" chocked out Hermione.
"Yup," nodded Larry. "Argus Diggory, a nineteenth century explorer of a dubious fame even managed to maintain three wives simultaneously for nearly thirty years before the oldest sons of Malaria and Leprosy decided to travel to England and ask their dear old pa for help in establishing businesses on English soil. The family fortune never recovered after that stunt. But that happens when one is benevolent with spreading their seed and not entitling their wealth to individual heirs. The Diggorys wealth had to be spread out between five heirs from England, twelve from Africa, seven from India and three from the United States of America."
"And when was contraceptive charms first invented?" asked Hermione pointedly.
"Potions and as far back as a third century BC. Tinkering with charms hadn't really been started until the seventeenth century," explained Larry.
"People can be so stupid," snorted Hermione.
"Arrogant," corrected her Larry. "Mind you, there's nothing wrong with having a little bit of hubris in your intellect and abilities as long as you maintain equal measures of humility. Arrogance unfortunately is a common flaw amongst our kind, the wealthier they are the worse it can get."
"So you aren't convinced that Arcturus is actually dead," said Hermione, steering the conversation back to the subject of Arcturus.
"What I know is that Sirius is Arcturus's heir, in blood, name, magic and wealth. Arcturus at some point after Sirius ran away from home slipped out that by the family law the entire estate is passed down the male line as is the title. The only exception with the title is that it befalls to the firstborn son of the male heir unless he dies childless. Arcturus couldn't disinherit Sirius even if he wanted, not without challenging a centuries old law and tinkering with blood magic or use of good old fashioned murder," explained Larry. "And if Sirius had received his inheritance and the title he would have done what all the others before him did."
"Meaning?" asked Hermione pensively.
"He would have bought out his freedom and taken off to Australia or New Zealand," muttered Larry. "The Black family fortune is massive, the family always kept fingers in many pies and they married well. They were religiously devoted to primacy and knew how and when to use it. Old Sirius and Arcturus were no different, no one dared to disobey their financial decisions seeing that the family only benefited from them. And we're only talking about their monetary wealth, then there are property deeds and the sheer amount of them would have been enough to buy his way out of Azkaban and got him an island on the other side of the world."
"That's sick," snorted Hermione. "He's a convicted criminal, a mass murderer on that."
"Some people got away with far worse as long as they had wealth they were willing to part with and could run fast enough," replied Larry sourly. "Granted most of them weren't officially convicted, but a couple of those that were had enough clout to bribe whatever Minister was in charge at the time. Our kind is disturbingly easy to corrupt, especially those that come from a background where quite a lot of money is still not enough money. I have no doubt that Bagnold had been itching to get her hands on the Black family fortune. And Fudge is even worse, heard him talking a while back that he has another inspection in Azkaban coming."
"Maybe he cares about the security," offered Hermione.
"Of the state of his vaults maybe," snorted Larry. "I was an Auror, Hermione, and every Auror at some point of their career back in the day had to spend a couple months in Azkaban as a warden. It was the easiest way to learn the faces of repetitive offenders. Official protocol demands only one Ministerial visitation per year and it's the annual inspection of the state of the wards, building and wardens. Since he became a Minister Fudge at the barest minimum has been ten times to Azkaban, which is about seven times too many for what's required. What was he looking for on that godforsaken island if not fishing for a bribe?"
"Relatives?" asked Hermione.
"Only child, as were his parents, long deceased. Widower, wife was an orphan, no children. Try again," replied Larry quickly.
"People would have lynched him if he allowed a convicted criminal to go free," protested Hermione.
"They would, if they knew that he had done so," Larry pointed out. "It's fairly easy. All one has to do is die, and a quite suspicious number of convicted Death Eaters has croaked within the last two years. Some had families, some were last surviving members of their houses. Some of those families suspiciously moved away after their imprisoned relative passed away. To Canada mostly, some to the United States, others to Australia."
"But that's…" started Hermione.
"Sick?" offered Larry. "But unfortunately highly likely as long as one can afford it. Some luckily cannot, I can't even begin to imagine what would have happened if the Lestranges hadn't been subjected to the Black family primacy. The male line is all but dead with the exception of those two fuckwits and their fortune has been sized as a restitution for their failure to provide Bellatrix with an heir and allowing her to get caught. Rodolphus still retains the title of the head of the family but a fat lot of good it does him if he has nothing to back it up with. Their assets are all frozen under the care of the Black family goblin and he would never go against the Head of the Black family's will."
"And with Bellatrix murdering Mirzam it's highly unlikely to happen even if Sirius himself would have bought out his own freedom," finished Hermione.
"Unless having Bellatrix croak is something he's waiting for," offered Larry. "Highly likely knowing Sirius if Arcturus is indeed dead."
"And you don't believe he is," said Hermione.
"It's not a matter of belief as much as a gut feeling, Hermione," sighed Larry. "Hogwarts' motto has warned generations upon generations to never tickle a sleeping dragon. And one thing that I learned through observation is to be wary of incurring the wrath of a Black, for the consequences could be just as dire if not worse."
"Like Barty Crouch," nodded Hermione.
"Like Barty Crouch," agreed Larry. "And Arcturus's death?" he grimaced. "Too quiet, too suspicious, lacking details and with a sealed manor that prevented anyone from accessing it. A funeral on the grounds that had only been attended by the family elves and only those that worked at the manor. If that old coot isn't dead then he's up to something and I'm not sure where I want to be when the truth comes out."
"Australia?" offered Hermione.
"Too close," snorted Larry. "South Pole, perhaps," he added and stopped walking for a moment as he looked around. "Here we are," he said as he gestured to a couple of graves that were located in the shadow of few trees.
Somewhere in the distance a train sped by.
They approached the graves slowly, passing by a couple of names that Larry ignored until they settled before one made out of black marble that was just tall enough to tower over Larry. It was simple, rectangular in shape and with elegant engraving that simply claimed:
Mirzam Miranda Verascez
30th September 1959 – 30th July 1980
Her candle burned out long before the memory of her ever will.
The words for some reason seemed eerily familiar.
"Goodbye Norma Jean," said Larry, as if he was reading Hermione's thoughts. "Or whatever thatsong was called. She liked to listen to it on rainy evenings. It was the only thing Sirius and Bathsheda could agree…" he stopped abruptly and Hermione assumed that he was once again sized by his own grief.
Not that he didn't have reasons. He buried one friend today and a couple of more over the years and she could only imagine how lonely he had to feel.
Mirzam was twenty-one. Not even that, a couple of months shy of turning twenty-one and her life was snuffed out by a lunatic just because of who she was believed to be and her decision to spend her life with and bear children to a man who after losing her apparently had to lose all of his marbles.
Like a candle in the wind.
A tear trickled down her face and then another. So much pain and misery could have been avoided if she lived. Hermione would have an aunt and someone in whom she could confide the things she feared to tell her parents, and Harry… Harry might still have his parents.
But she didn't live. She died, leaving behind distraught friends and a niece that didn't even know that her aunt existed, and wouldn't have known if Mrs Lambert wasn't convinced that Hermione already left her house when she said the words that changed Hermione's life.
Slowly she sat down in front of her grave and sighed heavily.
Mirzam took her mother's name to the grave with her and Hermione was at loss for what she could do now to find it out. Ask her parents? And what sort of answer would they provide her with? The same one she'd already discovered most likely.
Larry meanwhile approached the grave and started to examine the flower arrangements. Fresh looking flower arrangements she suddenly realised. One of them was an elaborate bouquet arranged around a crimson red rose. It consisted of forget-me-nots, heliotrope, a couple lilies of the valley with a couple of geraniums, sage and rosemary. And as elaborate as it was it looked fairly usual compared to another arrangement that consisted out of purely black flowers in the somewhat familiar shape of lilies, both the normal ones as well as calla lilies.
"What does it mean?" she asked him.
"I'm not sure," said Larry slowly. "What I do know is that there are only a couple of people who would find black lilies an appropriate flower arrangement for the deceased," he added stiffly. "It's something that they, in their morbid sense of humour reserve only for their relatives. Curiously enough all but one of them are supposed to be dead and those that aren't shouldn't be very interested in visiting her grave."
Hermione wiped her cheeks and quickly stood up before she asked, "Whom are you talking about?"
Somewhere behind her a twig snapped. She didn't whirl around to check what caused it to snap but Larry had and he glared at the intruder with quite a lot of ferocity for a man of his stature.
"Me, I'm afraid," said a male voice quite close to her.
That made her whirl around with such speed that she found herself tripping over her own feet and only two hands, one of which grasped her upper right arm and the other that was holding a cane that propped her up kept her from collapsing on the ground. Both hands disappeared as quickly as it became evident that she wasn't going to collapse and the stranger stepped away a bit.
He was a tall, elderly gentleman of a physical stature similar to her own father, lean but not too thin. He was dressed in an impeccable black pinstriped suit with a vest and snowy white shirt underneath it. On the top of his head he had a black fedora that was a bit askew. He seemed to realise that as soon as her eyes fixed on it and quickly, changing hands with quite a speed, the cane that was in his right hand found itself in his left hand and it pushed the hat back to its proper place.
His pale eyes twinkled with mirth and his thin mouth had formed into a tiny smirk before it returned into a more formal thin lipped smile. Then he reached for his hat and tipped it to her, allowing her to see his steel grey hair more clearly. Compelled by Grandma's etiquette lessons she gave him a tiny nod and tried her best to return the smile.
"Lawrence," the stranger turned to Larry.
"Yes, you supposedly deceased lying old coot?" offered Larry with a huff.
"Well, I didn't tell the world to bury me while I was still breathing," offered the stranger lightly.
"Yes, you did not, but you do know the law. Ten years from the last public sighting done by a human, magical being or any other form of activity that would have confirmed continued existence. I had to fend off that demented swan for weeks after you were declared dead and your regalia wasn't coming," said Larry sourly.
"No idea why," said the stranger with a shrug. "I specifically told him that my last will and testament will stand as it stood. It's not my fault that he got himself deluded by Charis's nephew."
"He had a legitimate reason to," Larry pointed out.
"Not legitimate enough for me I'm afraid," replied the stranger curtly.
"Hence the exposure," snorted Larry.
"He reaped what he sowed, Lawrence," answered the stranger. "If I was to suffer the loss of a son to such circumstances then so should he."
"Except he wasn't your son, was he?" said Larry pointedly.
"Considering how his own parents had failed him and how much I saw of him he was as good as," replied the stranger stiffly. "I failed him too, you know," he added after a moment. "I failed both of them and they were the ones that paid the price for my lack of involvement at the point of time when it mattered the most."
"They were both adults and they had chosen their own paths," said Larry simply.
"As did I. Will you judge me for that?" asked the stranger.
"Not that you care about my judgement," muttered Larry.
"I do value your opinions Lawrence, like my brother did," said the stranger softly.
"Your brother has been dead for over thirty years," Larry pointed out. "And I didn't do it for you."
"I know, you obstinate mule," said the stranger dryly.
Larry coughed before he said, "Shall we reserve the name calling for a time when a young and easily impressionable lady isn't present, your highness?"
"Oh, piss off," snorted the stranger. "But as annoying as he can be, he is indeed right. Pardon me, for my truly atrocious manners, Hermione."
"How do you know my name?" whispered Hermione.
The man smiled at her before he answered, "Because I was provided with it by someone whose opinion I came to esteem quite highly. She had done me a favour I could never repay and I readily agreed to act as her emissary should you ever discover her identity and she was unable to provide you with guidance. As it happened today," he gestured with his cane at the grave behind Hermione's back. "Another thing which she left behind were iron clad conditions which had to be reached for such a meeting to occur. I was quite sternly instructed to not seek you out myself, rather allow you to come out here of your own free will. You are truly a glory to your ancestors, Hermione. Only a young woman with an intellect that match theirs would have achieved what you have."
"I had help," whispered Hermione.
"You had a will and those that have it more often than not do have enough determination to find a way. Therefore, I applaud you," replied the man.
"You mentioned my ancestors," said Hermione slowly. "What can you tell me about them?"
"Nothing I'm afraid," sighed the man heavily.
"Balderdash," snorted Larry from behind her back.
"I'm not exactly talking to you, Lawrence," replied the man.
"You either know or you don't, stop beating around the bush, Arcturus," said Larry sourly.
"I do know your ancestors, Hermione," sighed the man, Arcturus Black, a supposed dead man. "I knew your aunt. The poor thing had the misfortune of bearing a very strong resemblance to her own aunt who in her school years was a dear friend of my wife. Because I knew that I knew who fathered her even though she lived and died under a different name. Unfortunately there's a pesky little charm that prevents me from revealing it to you. Without a doubt a precaution undertaken by your mother in an attempt to ensure that you would never discover her identity. What she had failed to take under consideration was her sister's determination into ensuring that you had an access to that possibility. Hence my presence here on this fine sunny day."
"Why would she do that?" whispered Hermione.
"Which one of them are you asking about?" questioned Arcturus curiously.
"Either, both," answered Hermione quickly.
"Mi.." started Arcturus and coughed. "Your aunt," he started again, "had a very strongly developed protective instinct and tendencies, something that sadly led to her eventual, premature death. For those she cared for her loyalty and dedication knew no bounds. One naturally had to earn it because as devoted as she could be she was not stupid. Your mother was one of those people who won her loyalty even though they didn't always agree on certain subjects. Your…" he paused as if he was looking for a word, "surrender was one of them, particularly in the light of the continued detainment of your mother's parental rights to your sister. That didn't sit well with your aunt. She was quite vehemently convinced that you shouldn't have been separated and you should have been either detained or surrendered together."
"I have a sister," whispered Hermione. "What's her name?" she asked quickly.
Arcturus grimaced.
"You cannot tell me," realised Hermione. "How does it work?" she asked after a moment.
"Annoyingly well, I'm afraid," admitted Arcturus with a slight grimace. "To the point of an inability to scold your mother for her continued lack of contact with you. But then again I could hardly expect any less of the daughter of a woman that bore with determination and perseverance anything that life threw at her, and sadly it was quite a lot. Her daughter could hardly be any different than the woman that raised her."
"So she is alive," whispered Hermione.
"And faring relatively well, and that's the extent of what I can reveal to you," confirmed Arcturus. "She lives, that's all that matters."
"What prevents you from revealing more?" asked Hermione.
"A pesky little charm, like I said," replied Arcturus. "I'm sure that your mother believed herself to be quite thorough in casting it. But she had failed to factor in your aunt's determination into allowing you access to that information, as a failsafe. Even though she was the one who vetted your parents prior to your surrender she didn't feel particularly comfortable with surrendering you to people who had no ties to the world you were eventually going to belong in."
"She was Muggle raised for Merlin's sake," protested Larry.
"And therefore the harshest critique of such practices like handing a definitely magical child to people that don't have an ounce of magic in them. And you were born with magic so strong that prior to your surrender to your Muggle guardians your magic had to be bound by your aunt during the naming ritual. It was her most unfortunate demise that released you from that bond," explained Arcturus. "Had your mother been a little less thorough in her casting, per your aunt's request upon her death you would immediately acquire the status as a ward of the Black family like…" he paused, appearing to be choking on words. "Damn that witch."
"Maybe it was for the better," commented Larry.
"Maybe, maybe not," said Arcturus with a shrug. "What matters is that now I have the freedom to direct you just like your aunt would have done if she had lived. Should you choose so, obviously."
"Why would I choose not to?" asked Hermione quickly.
"That depends on a lot of factors," answered Arcturus simply. "One of which is the most important question of all. Are you truly certain that you wish to know of your ancestors?" he asked.
"Would I come this far if I didn't?" asked Hermione simply.
"A typical Gryffindor answer," sighed Arcturus. "And as glorified as that house is, it and the reasoning of its members have certain flaws. They often fail to take into account the consequences. So let me ask you again, are you certain that you wish to know to know about your ancestors, knowing that finding out the truth will have real life consequences?"
"Such as?" asked Hermione a little uncertain.
"The loss of your identity?" offered Arcturus. "The loss of those you call your parents as your guardians? Possibly even contact with them?" he added. "I'm unsure about your mother but your father…" he grimaced. "I would be wary of how he would handle such a surprise and what he will do with that information."
"My father was unknown," whispered Hermione.
"Only to those who didn't wish to know. Your mother didn't, not that I blame her. She chose not to know him. Your aunt on the other hand," he paused for a moment, "she had beef to settle with him that involved a quite severe hexing and dragging his scrawny arse to Azkaban for a couple of years. And that was for your sister alone. I'm certain that the urge to make an example out of him only increased as you grew in your mother's womb."
"We have the same father?" asked Hermione softly.
"Unfortunately so," confirmed Arcturus. "And unfortunately looks are something which you have taken from your…" he choked on words again. "Bloody hell," he coughed.
"Mother," finished Hermione for him.
"Yes, that was exactly what I was planning to say," said Arcturus. "Good for your appearance which I'm sure as you grow older will be aesthetically pleasing at the very least but bad for our quest. It would have been far easier to take you to Diagon Alley to play point out to me the person who looks the most like you game than going on a treasure hunt."
"Treasure hunt?" asked Hermione sceptically
"Seems like it," answered Arcturus with a shrug. "But then again I'm old and not as active as I once was. And I'm not exactly fond of the French or confident in their abilities."
"French?" asked Hermione. "Are my ancestors French?"
"Hard to tell," answered Arcturus simply. "Most of our kind have some French ancestors, most unfortunate side effect of the short distance between France and England and their uncanny ability to convince multiple nations that French is chic," he snorted. "Bloody confusing that's what it is. It and their ability to always come out on top in spite of being cowardly, cheese consuming, capitulating chimpanzees."
"You're fluent in French," snorted Larry. "I heard you."
"And because I'm fluent in it therefore I have the right to judge it," replied Arcturus. "I like German better. It's an orderly language even though as a nation they possess an uncanny ability to produce dangerous maniacs with illusion of grandeur. Excellent beer, far better than the piss the French market as wine."
"And he's off," muttered Larry. "Can't get him to shut up once he starts talking about French wines."
"There's nothing wrong with a truly good wine. I'm just saying that I have yet to meet a French wine that doesn't taste like piss," said Arcturus.
"And how do you know what piss tastes like?" asked Larry pointedly.
"I had horrible year mates," replied Arcturus. "I lost a bet and had to drink a bucket of it, tasted like French wine."
"Then I pity the state of your wine cellar," snorted Larry.
"I have an excellently stocked wine cellar, just not with French wines," said Arcturus with a shrug. "And if I were you I would stay away from that fish soup of theirs, never eaten one and not been sick afterwards," he added as he turned towards Hermione. "They don't call it soupe de poisson for nothing."
"Doesn't poisson stand for a fish?" asked Hermione sceptically.
"It also stands for a pimp so there's that," replied Arcturus. "So have you considered your answer carefully?"
The instinctual answer that nearly immediately flew out of her mouth was yes. But just as she opened her mouth to say it she hesitated. To certain degree Arcturus had a point, and she only saw the end goal which was finding out the identity of her mother. But she wasn't the only part of the equation, was she? As unknown as her father was to her mother it didn't seem that he was equally unknown to her aunt. How that was possible she had no idea. Maybe her sister looked more like her father than she did. But how did Mirzam know who it was? Because what kind of a man he was, was heavily implied. Rapist, possibly Voldemort's supporter, not someone she wished to know by name let alone rely on his whims. And then there were her parents and the illegality of the adoption. Her mother wanted nothing to do with her, if the surrender of parental rights wasn't enough the curse that prevented Arcturus and other people from mentioning her by name was clear enough. What would her father do if, or when he finds out about her?
She swallowed.
She wanted to know the truth, to know her roots, her ancestors, her sister and at the same time she didn't want to lose her parents. Sure, they lied to her but to be fair so did she. They were all practiced liars and lied by omission.
"Give it some time," said Arcturus finally. "Think it over, try to weigh every outcome."
"And what will you do?" asked Hermione quickly.
"What I've been doing for the past thirteen years," he replied. "Wait. Time is something that I can spare," he added. "I'm one of those lucky sods that has passed through the usual diseases that kill people my age when I was younger and they were more inconvenient to me than dangerous. I lead a healthy if solitary life and I don't have many vices that could shorten my lifespan considerably. Whatever you decide, whenever you decide, I will most likely be there to guide you. Be it tomorrow or thirty years from now."
"How can I reach you?" she asked.
"You cannot," he replied simply. "But I will know when you're ready."
"How?" she asked sceptically.
He gave her a small, quirked smile before he said, "I'll just know."
"Who do you have on her?" asked Larry sharply.
"No one you know," replied Arcturus dryly.
"So you've been spying on me," stated Hermione.
"Spying is such a plebeian word," said Arcturus with a shrug. "I like observing from a considerable distance better than spying. The only thing I wished to know was whetever or not your needs were taken care of and that you had been treated well. They weren't supposed to interfere with your family life or alert anyone to their presence. Not that it was continuous, just periodical, a couple days in a year."
Hermione narrowed he eyes and glared at him.
"Now, that's a look I'm familiar with," said Arcturus dryly. "And my cue to leave," he added before he turned to Larry. "If you wish to berate me away from the earshot of a young and easily impressionable lady I'll be taking my dinner in the pub at the village around sunset. See you," with that he disapparated.
Hermione looked at Larry and asked, "Will you met him there?"
"Of course I will," replied Larry with a huff. "As soon as I ensure that you return home safely. I don't trust him."
"Why?" asked Hermione quickly.
"Because I know him, my dear. He's a Slytherin and a Slytherin never does something from which they have nothing to gain," replied Larry stiffly.
"You're a Slytherin," pointed out Hermione. "So was Elsie and his younger brother. You called him the best man you ever knew."
"Because I knew him," admitted Larry. "I never knew his brother as well as I knew him. I never knew that Mirzam knew him. She never said and I highly doubt that Sirius knew that."
"Did Sirius know that you knew his relatives?" asked Hermione pointedly.
"I first met Sirius as a young man estranged from the entire family after I already heard from his grandparents that even though the biggest point of conflict was between him and his parents he decided to cut all family ties. He point blank refused any form of support, financial and otherwise from all relatives, with the exception of Alphard. And the only reason why he accepted it from Alphard was because he died," replied Larry grimly. "The reveal of that connection was left to my discretion and at the time I chose not to reveal it. I shared nothing with them which they wouldn't be able to find another way. They didn't ask about him."
"Why not?" asked Hermione sceptically.
"Initially I thought that Arcturus was planning to wait out his rebel phase but had failed to factor in how much he and Sirius were alike," said Larry with a heavy sigh.
"Stubborn to the point of obstinacy?" offered Hermione.
"To begin with," snorted Larry.
"He wants something from me," she sighed.
"Yes," confirmed Larry. "And that's what I'm intending to find out."
TBC
Next: A pleasant day turns into a nasty evening.