January 5, 1982

Black Manor, Somerset

Arcturus Black, previous Head of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black and one-time powerhouse member of the Wizengamot, was well accustomed to being a very important man. For as long as he could remember, people had hurried to do his bidding in an attempt to curry favor with his House- rarely had he been told "no" by anyone (other than his father).

Perfect scores and a prefect's badge while in school? Easy.

Married to the best looking and brightest witch of at least two generations? Accomplished.

Two children to carry on the family legacy? They'd been every bit as beautiful, bright, and cunning, as he had demanded.

Long lasting political alliances, grandchildren, world travelling, well documented journals on personal magical research? Check, check, and check.

Arcturus had been fairly certain that he would go down in Black family history as one of their most successful heads of houses, and in wizarding history as a powerful leader during Grindelwald's war.

But then, the self-proclaimed Lord Voldemort had darkened his doorway (or mailbox, as the case may be).

Arcturus wasn't an idiot- proud, yes, and certainly self-serving, but not an idiot. He had known at once that there was something incredibly wrong with the pretty young man who had written to request- demand- both his sponsorship and his fealty. Several discreet conversations with his son and nephew had shed light on the matter: Lord Voldemort, with dark magic boiling around his fingertips, was the same Tom Riddle they had fawned over and followed at Hogwarts. Powerful, incredibly bright, the supposed Heir of Slytherin (and they had all seen the Chamber of Secrets opened, so perhaps it was true), and certainly not a pureblood.

It had seemed quite the dilemma.

On the one hand, his own rearing and education had firmly suggested to him that the only way to protect the wizarding traditions he held dear (and which were being aggressively campaigned against by the current political administration) was to keep power in the hands of the pureblood families. Swearing fealty of his house to a half blood, regardless of their power or sway with the younger generation, went against the grain.

On the other hand, Arcturus was very aware that one should never ignore a sharp knife- nor a rabid dog. The self professed Dark Lord claimed to be interested in restoring purebloods to power, and if a half blood was willing to fight to put more control into Arcturus' hands, he certainly wasn't going to complain.

It was the other portions of Tom Riddle's letters that kept him from buying in whole heartedly to the younger man's plan. While Arcturus thought muggles dirty and backward and muggleborns a danger to their society, he wasn't quite on board with the mass genocide and destruction of the Statute of Secrecy that the young dark lord was planning. In some ways, the ideaology's extremism reminded him of the war (Grindelwald, too, had been compelling, and Grindelwald, too, had been convicted of his beliefs). At the end of the day, it was these uncomfortable parallels that prevented Arcturus from inviting Riddle to the dinner meeting he had requested.

But Arcturus wasn't an idiot. He was proud, he was self-serving, and he was most certainly biggoted, but he was not an idiot. So he wrote back.

Sir-

The next generation of House Black have entered the political boxing ring, and I would be remiss in influencing them one way or another in the current climate. Would that you unite each Black under your banner, I would be pleased to accept your request for a dinner invitation. Until that time, please visit Gringotts to receive a one time donation towards restoring wizarding traditions to the forefront of our society.

Cordially,

Arcturus Black

Paterfamilias of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black

It was a bet, with Arcrutus placing his money on his family continuing to go out of their way to disagree with one another with his direct influence. The Black Paterfamilias had been well aware of what he was promising should the pretentious other man actually sway the entirety of the family.

He'd watched the first Blood War progress with a critical eye- the two dominating powers, led by Albus Dumbledore and Lord Voldemort respectively, did not represent his own political or personal beliefs, and he was no longer a volatile young person eager to engage with a wand. Instead, Arcturus had kept track of who each of his family member's were supporting and how much gold was being spent to do so. Passionate displays and battles were for young people, he frequently reminded his wife, and at least in their current position House Black was arguably neutral.

Neutral, until suddenly it seemed they weren't.

Cassiopeia's blunt explanation of how the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black had become synonymous with Lord Voldemort's terror attacks had been eye opening and, unfortunately, accurate. In the days following the family council that had stripped him of his power, Arcturus had realized with a sickening lurch that his long ago challenge to Tom Riddle had been a mistake.

Lord Voldemort had been methodical, carefully collecting Black family members one branch at a time. He preyed on their innate fear of the changing legislations and of muggleborns following Grindelwald's wars, on their desire to return to the old wizarding ways, and on their innate madness (even Arcturus couldn't deny that bit of the family's reputation). He had transformed the Black's into merely a dozen propaganda machines, endangering their bonds with the family magic and shattering their souls in order to rebuild them for his cause.

Arcturus was quite certain, when he considered the chain of events that led up to his removal from the Paterfamilias position on November 11th of 1981, that his sins included quite a bit more than the apathy that his younger cousin had accused him of. Certainly, they had resulted in the death of his son and his favored grandson.

"You couldn't have known," Melania had reminded him as they laid in bed in the days following the family council, "You couldn't have possibly known. And even if you had, what could you have done?"

"Not married our son to Pollux's harpy of a child, for starters," Arcturus sighed deeply. "Never responded to the letter. Said that the House of Black would not bend a knee. Offered Sirius help, or told him I had intended the House to remain neutral. Attended the Wizengamot sessions rather than voting by Proxy. Sought counsel from-,"

"Enough, Archie. You didn't know. You couldn't have known."

"All the same-,"

"No. No more. Once we lay our son to rest- once he rejoins our magic- then you can make amends. Until then…. Please, Archie. We haven't been able to mourn for two years. We have a child who does still need us. I still need you."

Orion's funeral had been every bit as healing as Melania had hoped- for her, anyways. The pulsing sensation of their son's magic being reabsorbed into the family had felt like acceptance, forgiveness, and strength in Melania's heart, but in Arcturus' it had felt like guilt and sorrow. He wondered, silently, if his oldest child's spirit had wished to share his own guilt with the person most likely to understand it.

"Orion's regrets are his alone, my love," Melania said firmly the following week, silently vanishing every bottle of firewhiskey in the room. "And now that he is gone, you can't drown them for him."

"Fine- I'll drown my own then," Arcturus had grumbled, eyes fixed firmly on a portrait of his once oh-so-perfect family above the mantel.

"No, you will not. I did not marry a drunk, and I will not stay married to one, Arcturus- and if you feel so much guilt over the result of one letter, then I think it is past time for you to begin actually rectifying your mistake."

"Lord Voldemort is dead, Mel," Arcturus snapped. "I am no longer the Paterfamilias, or the Head, or- hell, even a member of the main Black family. A bloody squib has taken what should have been my place counseling the family's new Head! What do you expect me to do to make up for my mistakes?"

Frowning heavily, Melania tossed her bright blonde hair behind one shoulder and moved across the room to settle onto her husband's lap. Taking his face between her hands, she stroked one finger along the sharp cheekbones that she had first been enamored by so many years ago. "Arcturus, I love you."

Arcturus flinched, eyes wide.

In the entirety of their carefully arranged marriage, they had not once spoken of love- and why should they? Theirs was an arranged marriage, even if Arcturus had specifically requested his father reach out to hers, even if Melania had been setting scraps of paper with his name on them on fire since her fourth year. Love had seemed an unnecessary thing to discuss when the couple had such an obvious foundation of appreciation, respect, passion, and- until now- power. That Melania would bring up love….

It was as if their world had become a different place overnight.

"I love you," Melania repeated, keeping her eyes firmly locked with her husband's own, her only sign of discomfort, the slight pink in her cheeks. "And i know that we are going to survive this, so long as we are together. We will survive our change in station, the loss of our son, and the apparent never ending interference of your cousin. We will survive our guilt, and our failures, and we will remake our name within the House of Black. I know we can do it, Arcturus, because we have always been better together. Because we are cunning. And I know we have to do it, because quite frankly, while I think we're going to have to accept both the squib and the mud- muggleborns and muggles- that Cassiopeia brings around, the family is still going to need us."

Arcturus stared at her blankly, and Melania sighed, caressing his cheek one last time before sliding off his lap. "Cassiopeia is coming tomorrow- she actually had the presence of mind to send an owl for once in her life, and not just appear in our bedroom. By the time she gets here, I expect you to have returned to being the man I married."

She was nearly to the door when Arcturus shook himself from his reverie. "Mel."

"Yes?"

"I… I love you too."

Melania raised a single eyebrow imperiously and smirked. "I know."


"Cousin- fully dressed for once, I see."

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you sound disappointed Cassiopeia."

"Don't be ridiculous Arcturus. Your wife is the impressive one."

Watching her husband and their new Materfamilias glare at one another over their tea, Melania sighed internally and closed her eyes tightly to avoid rolling them towards the ceiling. "Surely we can skip the pleasantries," the previous Matriarch murmured, praying to Morganna herself for the patience needed to survive the afternoon.

"For you, of course," Cassiopeia said pleasantly, reaching out for her fifth biscuit and shooting a sly look towards her older cousin. "As there were complaints the last time I called an impromptu family council, I've come to forewarn you."

"Another family council?" Arcturus' surprise shone through his attempt at a composed mask. "That is certainly-"

"Peculiar, I know." Cassiopeia sighed. "It will be the first time that two Black family councils have been called within less than a year since-,"

"Since Aunt Ellidora and Grandmother Ursula were caught in the-,"

"Quite."

A bit discomfited by the rare empathetic expression shared between the cousins, Melania cut in. "Surely you have good purpose."

"Of course- a necessary alteration to our plans for the project." Cassiopeia's dreamy features sharpened noticeably. "In confidence, I will share with you that there has been an attack on one of the youngest members of House Black."

Gasping, Melania did a mental headcount. Youngest members could only refer to Nymphandora, Draco, and Harry. Of the three, two she was quite certain were safe behind their mothers' impressive wards. That left… "Harry, then?"

Cassiopeia nodded.

"How would you know? Harry Potter is missing, is he not?" Arcturus demanded abruptly, "Has the family magic tried to tell you, or-"

"The family magic has made me no more aware of young Harry's situation than it made you of Orion's," Cassiopeia said, surprisingly gentle. "That is not the way of the family magic- they must call us through it, or we must specifically inquire. However, I have close connections-,"

(Isla Calderon, then, Melania surmised.)

"-who have determined that Harry was placed in an abusive situation after the death of his parents. While he is safe now, the abuse was great enough to warrant an investigation.

Melania, sharp: "Any act against our house should warrant an investigation."

"I'm glad you feel that way, because I have decided to put you in charge of the case."

There was a silent pause. Then…

"Pardon?"

Cassiopeia smiled amusedly. "You- the two of you- will investigate the attack against our family. I expect a full report to be obtained in the coming days, for presentation during the next family council, which I will call on this coming Saturday."

"But-,"

Melania held up a hand, and her husband fell silent. "You would entrust something as serious as an investigation into an attack against the House of Black to Arcturus and I?"

"Certainly- after all, you who have once led the House are surely the most fit amongst our members for such an investigation of the crimes against our members."

"Where would we even start? If the kid has been completely hidden-,"

"I've a name and address for you. Harry is no longer there, and is indeed once more securely hidden, but it would be the best place for you to start." Sliding a piece of parchment out of one deep pocket of her navy velvet robes, Cassiopeia passed it across the table.

"Dursley… Privet Drive….," Arcturus glanced up and frowned. "I've not heard of either."

"A… half blood, perhaps?" Melania asked carefully.

"No."

"Muggleborn, in a small magical community?"

"No."

Paling, Arcturus leaned towards his cousin and glared. "Surely you aren't insinuating these are muggles in a… in some dirty muggle neighborhood!"

Smiling widely, Cassiopeia stood and moved towards the fireplace, one final biscuit in her hand.

"Cassiopeia!"

"Consider this a chance to make a choice, Arcturus. Between your own prejudices, and the good of our House," Cassiopeia offered cheerfully. "Either way, you'll be called on to present on Saturday. The outcome of that presentation might just determine your place in this family."

With a nearly silent crackle of magic, she Apparated away.

"Terrible manners," Melania murmured reflexively, imagining the hexing her mother would give her if she had ever left tea without a proper good bye or even a bye your leave. Such was the power, she supposed, of being a known eccentric and Materfamilias to boot.

"Her mother always did complain about them," Arcturus agreed, and scowled down at the parchment in his hand.

"Will we….,"

"Yes," he said finally, voice gentling as he glanced up at the painted portrait of his much younger family over the mantle. "Yes, we will investigate on Cassiopeia's behalf."

Melania hid her smile behind her teacup. If they managed to help House Black through their investigation, it could only be to their benefit. And if this assignment provided the opportunity to prove their muggle loving family members that muggles were dangerous- an attack! On a child! On a child belonging to House Black!- well, that was a chance worth taking.