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3
The House of Black, Returned
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July 20th, 1992 AD
Sirius was free.
After so long in that nightmare place, he'd finally been given his day in court; while Sirius could barely remember it – he'd been dosed to the eyeballs in nutrient and Pepper-Up potions, and that wasn't counting the Veritaserum – he did remember Albus tearfully giving the Not Guilty verdict… before remanding him to bedrest at Number 12, Grimmauld Place, under the care of House Black's current Steward, with regular appointments with St. Mungo's for Mind Healing and…
Well, Azkaban wasn't famous for its exercise program; it would be some time before he was making ladies swoon with his physique, nevermind his now-ghastly features.
At first, he'd been gripped with horror, wondering if he was actually still in Azkaban and everything was just a bad dream, brought on by the Dementors. The restitution of five hundred Galleons for every year he'd been imprisoned was… suspicious, and obviously a way of telling him not to cause a fuss, but that didn't change Sirius' dread of being under his mother's thumb, back in the madwoman's house once more! He'd done everything in his power – as had dear old Dad, may God rest his soul – to get away from that Dark-pandering wench!
And then he found that his mother was dead too. House Black was under new management, in the form of one of its most lauded and venerated members: Lenore Black, the Dark Guardian of the Moon.
Or, that was the title he'd been taught in youth by his mother, who expounded on the regal Darkness of Lenore, finest daughter of the "Noble and Most Ancient House of Black".
"Even in death, that woman continues to irritate me," snarled that worthy when Sirius accused her of being just as Dark as You-Know-Who, "I suppose she also said I held Herpo the Foul's chamber pot for him and hobnobbed with Emeric's little harem, aye?" and she blew a raspberry before turning back to the Black accounting books she'd brought with her on that first meeting at the hospital, muttering, "Fecking inbred Dark-loving descendants, what did I do to deserve this bullshite?"
"Then enlighten me," sneered Sirius on the day they met, at Saint Mungo's Mind Healing ward, surprised by her vitriol but not buying the act, "Just who are you?"
And so she introduced herself, formally.
Lenore Black, Warden and Steward of House Black. Hunter of the Order of the Silver Crescent. Knight of Edinburgh. Master's degree in European Folklore from Oxford's Lord's College, and a Bachelor's in World History from same. Order of Merlin, First Class twice; once for participating in the final duel against the Dark Lord Godelot the Reviled, and again for defeating one of Them Under Stones, the corrupted Celtic Goddess of Fertility, Moon, and Hunt, Arianrhod the Moon Presence.
Sirius shivered at that last one; there were some things that mortals weren't supposed to mess with, and They were one of those things. Even his mother didn't dare try invoking one of the Old Gods, and, given how far she fell, that said a lot.
Oh, but there was one more title.
"Are you taking the piss?" he asked a few weeks later in Grimmauld Place's Lord's Study, completely flabbergasted by her final claim.
"Language, my Lord, and no, I'm not," replied the Hunter, unstopping a bottle of vintage Crème de Menthe, the emerald liquor's minty scent filling the newly-repainted room; taking Sirius' shocked silence as a request for elaboration, Lenore poured a pair of glasses and spoke, "It's an enticing offer, honestly. The curse on the position has gone on for too long, and, given my… extensive learning regarding rituals and long-term curses, it would be the work of a few months to undo it; from what I understand, the curse hasn't been around long, just since the 1950s, so it'll be a simple fix."
"Dumbledore couldn't do it," Sirius pointed out pugnaciously, accepting the glass and watching the warrior of his House lean against his father's desk, clad in suspenders, vest, and slacks that were just tight enough to highlight her feminine figure; if she weren't related to him… he sipped his drink and banished the thought. It'd been too long since Sirius had seen a woman, let alone been alone with one; it would be more time still before he could trust himself around others…
"Dumbledore is an accomplished master of Transfiguration and Alchemy; he is not, nor will he ever be, an expert in Warding, Rituals or Magical Combat."
"He defeated Grindelwald in a duel!"
"Please, my Lord," Lenore rolled her eyes, "The man is a schoolteacher and politician, and yes, he is a Sorcerer. Yes, he is the one who defeated Grindelwald, but that Dark Lord was a consort of Lilith; the only things that saved Dumbledore were, firstly, his ability to spell-chain silently, and, secondly, his very impressive Transfiguration skills. Personally, I'd have just shot the demon-worshiping monster in the throat with a bullet of inherited silver as soon as his true allegiances became known."
"You have a high opinion of your ability; yes, it's well-earned, I'm just saying. You could try to act a little more humble," Sirius waved his several-times Great Aunt off and fumed some more, before blurting, "When can I see Harry?"
"When you're healthy, hale, and realize that the boy doesn't remember you, Sirius," she replied softly, inhaling her drink's fumes and continuing quietly, "I know that your oath compels you – I have a lot of experience with oaths myself – but please, my Lord, you must be patient for now."
"I don't like it," he growled, standing and pacing, thinking aloud, "Those relatives of Lily's, they remind me of…" his mother, Sirius didn't say, opting to take another gulp of the vintage liquor, "I don't like that Harry's with them. That sister of Lily's was jealous as a vain Fae, from what I remember, and the less said about that man she married… tch, walrus more like. The sooner we can get Harry away from them the better."
"You'll find no argument from me, my Lord, but we must do these things legally; yes, I likely could force the issue, but between your wench of a mother, Bellatrix's frankly insane actions, and ten years of your supposed guilt, we must build up a surplus of goodwill if we wish to throw our House's weight around once more," Sirius sat and grumbled about 'not liking it but whatever' over his drink; stupid sensible Great Aunt Lenore. At least she was… saner, than most other members of his family; reminded him of Father more than anyone, really, "…you remember what I've told you of our lost Squib lines?"
"Still can't believe most Muggleborns are actually related to us-" whap! "-OWW! That was my ear, aunty!" how the Hel was she so fast?!
"If you must refer to them in any way, say 'Mundane-born', Sirius; they've invented nonmagical flight and have stood upon the Moon since the Statute's initation, so it follows that we show some respect. I swear, if I find out who coined that childish term…" his Great Aunt fumed and took a fortifying gulp of her own; it seemed that three centuries of incest and Dark practices were only part of the reason Lenore Black was on the warpath, "And removing the Squib lines from the Tapestry, how foolish!"
"I can see why it was done, though," Sirius said cautiously, flinching at his Great Aunt's intense gaze snapping onto him, "Well, with that whole 'pure-blood' movement going on after the Statute was instated, it was probably seen as better to hide our Squib lines than suffer the social faux paus, if you follow me."
"Hmph. Doesn't mean we have to like it, or continue to follow the precedent; our House is in tatters, and it falls to us to restore its prestige to pre-Schism standards," the Steward reported, stepping lithely around the desk while Sirius toasted the nebulous plan; from what she'd told him over the past month, the old House of Black were far more progressive than the one he'd known and suffered through childhood with, "But back to what I was saying: in preparing my lesson plans, I've found two Second Year students who may be related to us. One is Hermione Granger, a Gryffindor who tested first in her class last year; I have yet to perform a Heritage Test, but given her overall appearance – bushy hair, light freckles, overbite – she may be from the Granger Squib line that was started by Lord Antares III's fourth son in 1422."
Thinking on that for a moment, Sirius leaned forward and said, "If that's true, I could adopt her, couldn't I?" at Lenore's nod, the recently-inducted Lord Black sighed explosively, "Well, I'm not about to upend someone's life, especially a child's, doubly so if she's got a good upbringing; from what you've said about her grades, she might even be a little like Lily… although, we could pair her up with Harry," grinning, Sirius thought of his Godson having a legitimate claim to House Black; that'd make his mother's ghostly knickers twist right fierce. Father would certainly approve, if only to spite Walburga, which was even better...
"No."
What? "But-"
"Sirius, you are not interfering in matters of the heart, especially those of your Godson, doubly so with a possible inheritor or, in Granger's case, retainer of our House! In addition," she shouted over Sirius when he tried to object, the Hunter waving a sheet of parchment, covered in what looked like the Potter family tree, at him, "Harry is also technically Hermione Granger's fourth cousin, thrice removed! With the amount of incest that's gone on in our family over the past three centuries, pairing them together would be a monumentally bad idea!"
"Really? But they're not even close to three degrees-yipe!" it was only his recently-returned Hit Wizard reflexes that saved Sirius being brained by a dragon-horn paperweight.
"You may be Lord, but I am Steward, and your mentor in these matters! So when I say you should leave it be, leave it be," and she glared at him.
Sirius didn't like that glare. It made his Great Aunt look very scary, almost inhumanly so, though the latter was likely due to the Hunter Rituals that made her what she was.
It was still incredibly unnerving, so Sirius turned into Padfoot and barked at her, ignoring how the scent of blood on her skin intensified.
"GORRAM IT TO SHITE, SIRIUS, TURN BACK INTO A HUMAN SO WE CAN FINISH OUR CONVERSATION RIGHT THIS INSTANT!" the woman screamed, chasing after Padfoot as he fled the room and ran through the white marble halls of Grimmauld Place, the Good Hunter giving chase while swinging a strange-looking cane she'd pulled from somewhere.
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July 26th, 1992 AD
"…the other, Sally-Anne Perks, has left the country for the Colonies," Lenore woodenly read from her notes, which were rippling a little due to the strong rum Sirius found in the Lord's bedroom. She could think of far worse peace offerings. "When I reached out to them, her parents stated they, and I quote, 'want nothing to do with backwards-thinking British wizards'. Relatedly, Salem School has outperformed Hogwarts in terms of N.E.W.T. scores for the past thirty years, and has a dedicated Mundane Studies program…"
The last true Hunter alive hit her desktop with her forehead and groaned with despair and angst; on the other side of the desk, Sirius just stared (drunkenly) at the many unusually-colored jars Lenore had covered the shelves of her room/office with. Yes, she'd added books to some of the shelves, but the tinctures and reagents Lenore used in her duties needed to be kept in easy reach, mainly because Voldemort was still somewhat alive, according to her contacts in the DoM.
She didn't know how the corpse-humping little shite was still bound to the mortal plane, only that, according to scuttlebutt – the DoM informants – the necromancer had possessed a Hogwarts professor just this past school year… and proceeded to "teach" for a whole school year without anyone suspecting.
At least telling him that made Sirius understand the gravity of the situation; after bonding over a relaxing and cathartic activity they both enjoyed – destroying what little was left of Walburga's room with wand and Kirkhammer – they sat down and tried to brainstorm a way to turn their House's and nation's fortunes around, without breaking the law or instigating a hostile takeover.
However, it was clear that they weren't the right people for the job. Sirius was the exact opposite of charismatic and approachable, what with his neurotic paranoia and shameless flirtations, and Lenore made every small animal in a 1-block radius flee in terror whenever she went out for her morning jogs. That Sirius was expected to take the Black seat at the Wizengamot, and Lenore would be sharing the Defense Against the Dark Arts post at Hogwarts for the next year, did not help their long-term plans in the least.
"What about that Granger girl?" asked (slurred) Sirius, shifting a little when he noticed a yellowish-red jar open an eye at him, "Ain't she friends with Harry?"
"Oh, yes, she is," Lenore replied without lifting her head, wondering how she was supposed to teach children how to defend themselves against the Dark without driving them insane, or worse, inspiring them, "Professor McGonagall also told me to, quote, 'stay away from her young, innocent lion', unquote. I have seen Miss Granger's test scores; she is wasted in the house of the brave."
Sirius gave her a gimlet eye, "Really now?"
"You know what I mean! Yes, you are a brilliant Wizard, but your tendency to charge in face-first smacks of Gryffindor's long reputation of hotheaded foolishness!" Lenore cried, sitting up so she could massage her temples and get the Messengers in her head to stop dancing, no matter how much the Doll enjoyed the spectacle; not for the first or last time, she wondered why she hadn't summoned the eldritch automaton yet… then remembered who she was sharing a house with, reminded herself that summoning an extension of Ebrietas was just a poor idea without adequate safeguards (which House Black didn't possess), and continued with her previous train of thought before the Things inside her became agitated.
"Knowledge without wisdom begets foolishness," she pointed out patiently, her erstwhile Lord nodding sagely if a little drunkenly along with her argument, "If she stays in that house and isn't given differing views on how the study of magic should be pursued, I've no doubt she'll pick up some of its more rambunctious members' habits and do something foolish, like brew Polyjuice in a privy."
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On the south coast of France, her nose in a book while her parents explored the nearby topless beach, Hermione Granger's ears started to itch; she dismissed the sensation in favor of wondering what to get her first real friend – Harry Potter – for his birthday… then the young Witch remembered Neville's birthday was around the same time, and immediately went into a fit of last-minute magical shopping research. She'd been less than kind to him, toward the end of the year; in Hermione's mind, there was no better apology – or birthday gift – than a brand new book!
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"I'm not saying we would, but it'd be a prank worthy of the Marauders," Sirius admitted, absently poking the nearly-empty bottle of rum until he seemed to have an idea. "Harry's birthday is soon."
"Roughly five days, yes," Lenore affirmed, turning back to memorizing the minimal O.W.L. requirements and making notes on where and how she could assist her future students into exceeding those expectations.
Whinnne…
She looked up to find Sirius giving her puppy dog eyes, having shifted to dog form again.
"Sirius, while I've been given a clean bill of mental health, that doesn't mean I'm comfortable around canines." Perhaps she should purchase a cat, or a kneazle…?
The Lord of her House started thumping his big bushy tail on her new Turkish carpet, and did not relent in his pleading whimpers.
"If I say yes, you aren't allowed to lick me, and we won't be able to deliver the gifts in person, so don't push. Deal?" Bark! "Fine. Go find something to wear."
While Sirius scurried off, Lenore mused that… she could use a little time outside the house, actually; even though the wallpaper was gone, revealing the lovely black and white marble beneath, the taint of past generations gave the manor an… atmosphere, one which she wasn't comfortable with.
Huffing, the Warden of House Black opened a drawer in her desk, removed the false bottom, and made sure the key she crafted from a Bloodstone Chunk was still inside its salt circle.
Once assured of the key's continuing existence, she relocked the drawer and dressed herself for going to market… though she needed to remind herself that bonnets were no longer in style.
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On the evening of July 31st, in the downstairs sitting room, Lenore had just finished replying to Narcissa's letter – thanking her for a lovely dinner (no Dark artifacts yet, but there were many cubbies and magical safes in that house) and wishing her great-niece luck on Draco's school shopping – and was just getting started on a cheese platter while ignoring Sirius' grumblings about Lenore being 'the most Slytherin 'Puff he ever saw', when Kreacher returned from delivering young Harry's birthday gifts.
"Missy… Stewar…" the badly bruised, singed and bleeding House Elf collapsed against the side of Lenore's rocking chair.
"Kreacher!" shouted the Hunter – and soon-to-be Hogwarts DADA Professor – leaping to her feet and laying three different healing spells on the family Elf, ignoring Sirius' swear of alarm; to Lenore's relief, Kreacher seemed to rally after being invigorated with her magic, so she quickly snapped, "What happened?! Who has done this to you?!"
"Another… House Elf, Missy Steward," coughed the Elf, who'd been getting progressively healthier over the past month, "Kreacher did nots gets their names, buts he manages to recover Master Harry's mail." With a snap of his fingers, several piles of letters, packages, and the specialty owl habitat Lenore purchased – a wooden box shaped like an owl cage, which could be resized to allow for human entry, holding a pocket dimension that contained a small nighttime forest full of mice and other small rodents – all of the parcels were slightly singed and rumpled in places, but that was a minor issue compared to…
"The other House Elfs was keeping mail and giftses from the young Master," continued Kreacher with a glare, after catching his breath, "They were attempting to cause troubles for Master Harry when Kreacher arrives." A pause, "They foughts Kreacher. We wons, but a rosebush was burnts up, Missy Steward. Master Harry was unhurts, but Kreacher heard the Muggle man yellings, before we returns here."
"Well done, my Butler. You are well now?" asked Lenore with honest concern; the old bean preened with pride and strength, which she smiled at, "And the other Elf?"
"He wills be rememberings Kreacher for some nights, Missy Steward," grinned Kreacher menacingly.
"Excellent. Go get cleaned up." Pop. To Sirius, Lenore barked, "Sirius! Get away from that fireplace!"
"But Harry-!"
"I am aware. More than this," added Lenore while silently Summoning her trusty Hunter vestments, a selection of hats, and several different Trick weapons, "Dumbledore has stated that, should an issue arise concerning young Harry, we – yes, we, Sirius – are to deliver him to the Weasley family abode in Ottery St Catchpole; frankly, I agree with him. This house isn't completely free of pests at the moment, and we've yet to remodel the bedrooms for extended habitation."
"Fine," grumped House Black's Lord, before eyeing Lenore's hats; she'd already donned her top hat, and was trying to decide between the replica of the legendary Holy Moonlight Greatsword and her trusty Burial Blade for her backup weapon. Yes, Harry's relatives were Mundane, but so were Artur, Heracles, and Alexander; which was why she was bringing her Reiterpallasch as her primary weapon. If they turned out to have Divine blood in their lines, however... "Hey, Auntie. What's with the weird skull mask and ostentatious hat? I didn't know you were into Halloween parties."
"It's a Bone Ash Mask, Sirius. I wouldn't suggest putting it on, either, as it's cursed to eat the face of anyone not initiated into a Hunter Order."
"Oh… so, why's it so… uh…"
"Disturbing? It was created by the Bone Ash Hunter Order, who specialized in destroying especially radical Christian fanatic groups from the days of the Roman Empire until their disbandment in 1755. I was given honorary membership to most of the Hunter Orders after slaying Godelot." The Burial Blade might send the wrong message to young Harry…
"That was an issue? The Christians, I mean."
Lenore put the Burial Blade back and shouldered the replica of Ludwig's ancient sword, before saying blithely to Sirius, "Read the Bible again sometime, but pay attention to how its so-called 'angels' are described. They are almost never depicted as humanoid, for good reason; they are Them From Outside."
"…seriously." Lenore didn't reply, instead hiding herself in a Notice-Me-Not Charm and marching toward the door, "Hey! Auntie, wait for me!"
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"I'm going to skin him alive." Lenore promised, seething at what her Mage Sight was showing her. "Then I am going to force-feed him a Polymorph potion, turn him into a woman, and give him to the Centaurs as a servant. After snapping his wand."
Next to her, Sirius took a small step away and asked warily, "Uh, Auntie? Who?"
"Dumbledore."
"He's the Headmaster! To start with!"
"I know. But remember how I said he's not a Ward Master?" the Lord of House Black nodded slowly, and Lenore spat, "The epic bloody moronic tosser used Harry's mother's blood to create a Ward stone under the front lawn. It's easily the shoddiest work I've ever seen, counting my Hogwarts days, and that's a very low bar, my Lord. I'm also fairly certain she was already dead when he did it, which botched the ritual further; honestly, I'm surprised the boy's still alive."
Nevermind the fact that, when she was done verbally murdering the Sorcerer for performing this crime, Lenore was going to draft a formal complaint about the bastard to the ICW, with regards to Dumbledore's mental ability to accomplish his duties.
She wouldn't send it… yet. That would have to wait until after meeting her DADA counterpart, Gilderoy Lockhart; as the author would be handling the younger children, Lenore wanted to know how capable the wizard was, and therefore understand Dumbledore's hiring standards.
The notes left by the previous professors… well, it didn't paint a good picture, to say the very least, and that wasn't counting Quirrel.
Regardless, Sirius trembled in rage at Lenore's revelations, whispering in an almost animal growl, "He said… he said he was protected."
"And he is, but only from outside threats who'd wish him or his relatives harm," Lenore nodded, rolling her shoulders and glaring at the impeccable lawn care and rose bushes; a whiff of the air brought a bitter tang to her nose, "However, seeing as he's the only magical in the house, and Lily Potter was dead when Dumbledore exsanguinated her for this idiocy, Harry is not protected by threats from within the house's bounds; worse, any Mundanes who cross the Ward Line won't see anything wrong about the boy's treatment, which I can tell you now was awful."
"How awful?" grumbled the Black Lord, walking forward and over the Ward Line, the Warden at his side, "Scale of 1 to 10."
After casting a passive Divination spell, Lenore hummed darkly, "Hmm, well, it could've been worse; they haven't raped him, but you likely had a better upbringing. 6, by my standards, which are quite high after the Dream," at the doorstep, Lenore clapped a hand on Sirius' shoulder and squeezed, "My Lord, I suggest you let me do the talking here. You look like you want to use Fiendfyre to get to Harry. He is in the house, unharmed but afraid."
Sirius Black took a deep breath through his nose and closed his eyes; after a long moment, he nodded and spoke through clenched teeth, "Remind me to send Dumbledore a Black Howler."
"As your Steward and Warden of the House, I must object to using Dark Magic to permanently scream your grievances at an elected official, my Lord," she knocked sharply on the door and muttered caustically, "No matter how much the ruddy bellend deserves it."