I sat uncomfortably down at the Ravenclaw table, immediately regretting that I had worn a full length gown to the Slytherin party. Thankfully, I had Lizzie, Casper and Ignatius clustered either side of me, making up a little island in a sea of dressing gowns.
We waited for the hall to fill up around us, finally Dippet stood up and cleared his throat weakly.
Silence eventually fell, and his students looked up at him with a mixture of curiosity, bemusement and indignation at being woken at such an hour.
"The ministry is under attack," he said gravely. A murmur ran through the crowd. "A large group of rebels, have openly challenged the minister's regime. Because of this, Hogsmeade weekends have been cancelled, and under no circumstances are any students to leave the castle, even into the grounds without a member of staff. Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures will be moved to the third floor, until further notice. If you will excuse me, I have many important discussions to have."
Dippet swept from the hall and my jaw dropped. The stupid man! Could he not see the chaos his words would invoke? Did he really just leave the room after dropping such a bombshell on his adolescent charges?
Thankfully Dumbledore stood, and raised his hand for silence.
It fell a lot easier this time.
"I feel a little bit more of an explanation is in order," he said, his usually calm voice betraying his own irritation at the headmaster, for those who were listening closely. "A group of rebels have indeed challenged the ministry. At this moment, it is through legislation and the withdrawal of funding. Whether this challenge will escalate to violence, I do not know. Only time will tell."
"And the strength of the rebels?" someone in Gryffindor questioned allowed. "Do you really think they will attack Hogwarts' students?"
The question seemed to age Dumbledore in an instant.
"The rebels are made up of some of the strongest Houses in Britannia," he said gravely. "And no, we do not expect them to attack Hogwarts."
Immediately another murmur of confusion was sent through the crowd. Dumbledore had no choice but to address it.
"The challenge is very strong indeed," he continued. "Many students here fall under the catchment of the houses which are rebelling. The ministry would struggle to rule without the revenue those ancient houses provide."
My eyes widened in realisation. My mouth opened before I realised I was speaking aloud.
"So it's the ministry," I deduced, my hollow voice ringing through the Great Hall. "If the ministry fall, you think that they will come after the children, in revenge, or for hostages in a last ditch attempt at gaining back power." Dumbledore's icy blue gaze found mine amongst the sea of students.
"It is a possibility we cannot risk."
I went back to my room after the meeting, an inky black eagle owl waited. In an elegant, curling script, in the centre of a piece of parchment were the words.
It has begun
-AB
I bit my lip and threw the note in the fire, the tension in my stomach not settling even as I watched the parchment curl and blacken. If they didn't win and that note was found, it could mean a ticket to Azkaban.
Weeks crept by in Hogwarts in a weird sort of limbo. The papers had long since stopped coming through, rumour had it the prophet had shut down. Though how anyone in Hogwarts got this information is beyond me, because no owls were getting through either, the note from Arcturus was probably one of the last letters to get through before the lockdown. None of the students knew why there had been no post for so long.
Were the rebels or the ministry intercepting? Were their families to afraid to write about the situation, lest their words be misinterpreted? Or had Dippet seized all the post, in case poison or magic was concealed in the parchment? It was anyone's guess. But this lack of news had made people on edge, mistrusting of the people they saw every day.
People seemed to keep to themselves more and never stay in public places longer than necessary. Gossip in the Ravenclaw common room was scarce, but when it did emerge, it was never about who had been caught kissing who in a broom cupboard. It was about the latest conspiracy theories.
Part of me felt angered by the silence. My own uncle was so involved in this rebellion, most likely my father too. And yet I knew next to nothing about the situation. The conflict could have escalated to deaths by now and I would be none the wiser.
The time ticked by with no answers.
I was in the library a day in early October, when Cedrella came and dropped down into the seat next to me.
"Tom's won," she murmured, casting a glance around the bookshelves suspiciously. "It's all over."
Interesting.
I didn't have time to comment, before we were interrupted. A first year in a Hufflepuff tie came up to us.
"Misses Poppy and Cedrella," he said, his voice wavering as if he were about to cry. "Professor Dippet says you must go to his office right now."
I surveyed the child for a moment and nodded. Cedrella squeezed his hand tenderly and followed.
"What could this be about?" she murmured at my ear as we swept through the corridors towards the headmaster's office.
"I have no idea," I said absently, without noticing, holding Cedrella's arm a little tighter in the crook of my elbow.
I didn't want to worry my cousin, but surely there was only one thing they would call the two us to Dippet's office for.
"Ah finally Miss Black, Miss Black," Dippet said in greeting, handing us a box each. "The other Black girls are in the bathroom along the corridor from the gargoyle. Hurry up and join them. Back in quarter of an hour. Do hurry now." His expression offered us no comfort, nor any immediate cause for alarm.
With confused frowns we were ushered out of his office. We had no choice but to obey and go and find the others. As we walked along the corridor I lifted the lid of the wide, flat box. I peeled back the layers of tissue paper.
"Cedrella," I said in a low voice. She looked over and gasped. There was no doubting those jewels, sat atop antique lace.
We stood before the headmaster as promised fifteen minutes later. The bathroom had been in chaos, the five of us cousins had been joined by Elena Greengrass, Druella Rosier, Beatrice Diggory and Abigail Potter, the little sister of Charlus. Each of us had been told to make ourselves presentable, and no one had any idea as to the occasion.
One thing was obvious though, we were the children of the rebels.
The only thing that comforted me that they had won, was the contents of the boxes. If were we being summoned to our family's sentencing, or worse executions, there would have been no way for the ministry to get hold of antique dresses and ancestral jewellery which had been in our family for generations- there was only one explanation. They must have won, unless they had somehow seized all of the aristocratic estates, and somehow managed to break the curses and wards guarding them in so short a time.
The Blacks were dressed more regally than the other girls, and for Cedrella, Walburga and I it was even more pronounced. Charis and Dorea were dressed somewhat modestly- but they were betrothed. These dresses must have been handpicked by my grandmother from the reliquary beneath the manor, surely. I could just imagine her striding through the aisles, handpicking the best for each girl, after carefully critiquing their bone structure and waistline. The full skirts and corseted waits were throwbacks to a different era -one where the aristocracy reigned supreme and blue blood and old wealth was all one needed to be a god amongst men.
The headmaster told us nothing. Just that we were bound for London.
Of course such gowns could not go by floo. We were bundled into gilded carriages pulled by thestrals at the front doors. The Black carriage was bigger to fit all of us in, there we met the boys. Who were no wiser than us.
We sat in silence for most of the way, holding hands with a cold, hard grip.
Finally the carriage came to a stop.
"Remember," Orion said in a hushed voice. "Whatever is waiting for us, composure is of utmost importance." We nodded. "I'll go first."
"Orion no," I hissed. Paranoia had gripped me, what if it were trap after all, the heir to our house should not leave.
"Poppy, I am heir," he said firmly. "This is my duty." I pursed my lips and nodded. But then his resolve faltered. "Come with me?" he murmured. I nodded once.
He exited the carriage swiftly and I followed him as gracefully as I could manage in such a dress. My heeled shoe hit a red carpet and I was immediately confused, I schooled my features into one of cool disinterest and I linked my arm with Orion and took in my surroundings.
It was the ministry building.
But at the end of the carpet, where the statue once stood was a long table, like the high table of Hogwarts and in the centre, in a throne of wrought gold, sat Arcturus Black.
"Introducing Sir Orion, son of his grace the high warlock and Heir to the House of Black, accompanied by his cousin the Lady Poppy, heir of Lord Lycoris of House Black."
The announcement stunned me.
As Orion and I glided up the carpet I heard my cousins being announced behind me. My eyes swept over the high table, there my father sat. At the right hand of my uncle.
Lord Lycoris? My gaze flicked between them. His grace the high warlock? And since when I was a lady?
The members of my family who were not students, or sat at the high table. Were stood beneath it, with strong, straight backs and haughty demeanours. I took my place amongst them, right between Orion and Cassie. Before now, Lucretia had stood before me in importance because she was blood of the first son of the Lord Black. But now she was not of House Black, she was a Prewett. Cassie stood after me because I was the daughter of the second son of Lord Black, whereas she was the first daughter of his eldest brother. Usually Pollux stood to my right at these occasions, but he was on the other side of the table, his neighbours Lord Malfoy and Lady Bones.
"Lord Sirius and Lady Hesper of House Black," Arcturus said in a clear voice. They took a step forward and sunk to their aged knees.
"Your grace," they said respectfully in unison.
"Do you accept me as the ruler and protector of Britannia?" he asked.
"Without question, your grace," my grandfather declared, still on his knees. This was ridiculous. As if his own father would disapprove of his ruling. This was all pomp and ceremony.
"Do you swear the fealty of you house to the dozen council?" he asked.
"Entirely," he answered simply.
"Then rise Lord Sirius and Lady Hesper of House Black, with the status of a House of the aristocracy. I offer you the protection and acceptance of the crown, in addition to the honours of title I bestow upon all members of your house."
Bingo. That would explain it.
My grandparents stepped back and I watched as Orion was called.
"Orion of House Black, as my son and heir, my own blood and grandson of Lord Black of the aristocracy do you swear the fealty of yourself and your mother, the Lady Melania of Clan McMillan and any future blood of yours, to my rule?" I noticed how Melania was not at his side as his queen, but as a ward of their son. It didn't sit right with me, not at all.
"Indeed your grace," he replied with a bow.
"Then rise Sir Orion of House Black."
My palms became sweaty as my name was called. I sunk to my knees, before my uncle.
"Poppy of House Black, granddaughter of Lord Black of the Aristocracy, and heir of Lord Lycoris Black, Lord of the Dozen council, do you swear me fealty?"
"I do," I replied, my dark gaze fixed upon the floor before me. "Your grace," I added.
"Then rise, the Lady Poppy of House Black." I did so with all the poise I could muster, my mind reeling. I was my father's heir? Now he was a lord I could inherit from him?
I watched as each of my family swore Arcturus our fealty. It seemed so ridiculous a concept. But the scribes and photographers did not seem to think so.
Had I stumbled into a defining moment in history?