The Battle Mage
Lord Arcturus Black had seen the rise and fall of two Dark Lords.
Grindelwald had been an apex predator. His acolytes followed him with a fevered devotion often begotten by a prophet or messiah. He was powerful and charismatic and charming. He drew them in like flies with his honeyed words and they never even realized how caught they were in a spider's web. They felt that he listened; they felt that he cared. There were followers of his still alive, having spent their whole lives in prison, who even now spoke his name with a reverence reserved for a fallen god.
Voldemort was a rabid dog. His Death Eaters were sadists and cowards and rich purebloods that either adored the freedom his orders gave them to rape and torture and kill or were drawn in by their peers and only realized their mistake when they were branded with his mark and writhed on the floor under his wand. He was powerful, yes, but mad and deluded. He ruled through fear, not devotion, and threw curses at his followers for the simplest things. They knew they were mere pawns to him; they knew he did not care. His followers, mere hours after his demise, cursed his name and his ideals and fled their master's cause. They heard of his supposed death and felt only relief.
Arcturus hadn't seen the difference at first and wouldn't have cared if he had. He would have backed them both, but Grindelwald's influence hadn't extended to Britain before his death, and he was warned against the folly of Voldemort.
Cassiopeia, his shrewd cousin, who had never married and terrified every pureblood lord who ever crossed her, had warned him. She maintained a leather diary known as "The Black Book" full of blackmail on every influential wizard and witch in Europe. She had stood before him, and even with white hair and wrinkles, her cheekbones had been sharp enough to slice and her gray eyes could have frozen fiendfyre. She told him it was foolish to back a madman, and he hadn't listened. It was an open secret within the family that Bellatrix Black had married Rodolphus Lestrange and pledged to the Dark Lord within the month.
Sirius Black had warned him. His Heir was still rather rebellious, though his fiancé – then only his girlfriend – had managed to tame him somewhat. Sirius, the Gryffindor among Slytherins, who was loyal to Dumbledore and training as an Auror in a Ministry that fought Death Eaters. He told him that Dumbledore wouldn't allow the Dark Lord to rule, and that when he fell, the Blacks would fall with him and Arcturus hadn't listened. Walburga had joined the Dark Lord, and Regulus had followed.
It was only when Noelle Potter had politely asked for a moment of his time to discuss a concern, after Sirius had proposed to her, that Arcturus saw sense. She sat across from him in his office and pinned him beneath her purple gaze.
"Do you know any wizard named Voldemort?" she asked.
"Of course, Noelle, the Dark Lord," he responded, confused. He had always held a fondness for Dorea's daughter and indulged her now.
"No. I mean, what's his real name?" she asked patiently.
"Does it matter?" he asked, searching for her angle. She had been in Slytherin, after all.
"Gellert Grindelwald was the last Dark Lord. He used his real name and stood publicly at the front of his cause. If this Voldemort is so concerned with the welfare of purebloods and the preservation of our culture, why would he not use his real name?" Lord Black listened with horror as he began to follow her reasoning.
She continued without pause, "If this Voldemort is truly so passionate about purebloods, he would wear his own House's name with pride. Since he does not, I must therefore conclude that he cannot claim a pureblood name. If he isn't a pureblood, then he's using the purebloods – their Heirs, their money, their beliefs – as a steppingstone for his own agenda, a hidden agenda that doesn't include purebloods. He curses the followers he claims to value and kills witches and wizards he claims to cherish left and right. He and his followers murdered my mother and father and burnt down Potter Manor, and this isn't the only instance where he has done so. The Bones family, the McKinnon family, the Prewett twins, and so many more were viciously wiped out. The only thing about him that I can discern other than that he is not pureblooded, is that he is afraid of death. His name – Voldemort – means "flight from death" and his followers are known as Death Eaters, Lord Black."
His mind was racing as he considered her words and he asked, "Why tell me this?"
"Because if I am to marry Sirius Black, I am to marry into this family. I don't want the ambitions of a madman to fell the House of Black," she said simply.
Noelle had been right. Bellatrix had fallen to the famed Black Madness after prolonged overexposure to Dark Magic, and she and her husband now rotted in Azkaban. Walburga had been killed in a meaningless raid that hadn't accomplished anything of importance. Regulus had disappeared after boasting of an important task Voldemort had bestowed upon him, and the date of his death had shown up on the tapestry within the week. And Sirius… his outspoken Heir was also imprisoned.
He had managed to salvage his family however, and gathered his cousins Cassiopeia and Pollux, and Pollux's remaining children and grandchildren as well. Of Pollux's children, Walburga was dead, and Alphard was childless, but Cygnus and his wife Druella had three powerful daughters, Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa.
Due to the dwindling nature of their family, he had convinced Alphard, Andromeda and Narcissa to accept marriage contracts beneficial to the Black family. Alphard was only in his late forties after all, and for a wizard with a lifespan up to 200 years, that wasn't much. He had married Marissa Fawley – a smart Ravenclaw brunette with an affinity for spell-crafting – and they were expecting twins.
Narcissa had respectfully handed him a list of likely candidates for herself and her sister. He had received an offer from Abraxas Malfoy for an arrangement between Narcissa and his son, Lucius, but Arcturus knew that Lucius had willingly followed Voldemort and declined. Instead, he set a match for her with Lord Greengrass' younger brother, Gideon Greengrass. Gideon was working toward a senior curse breaking position at Gringotts and spent his spare time as a socialite – much like Narcissa. He had discussed with Arcturus the idea of Narcissa running a business which she had taken to like a fish to water – within six months Narcissa's Events was the best event planning business in Britain. Gideon took the name Black and Narcissa had told Arcturus just last week that she was pregnant.
Andromeda had protested, but ultimately agreed to marry Julius Flint – a slightly younger pureblood male who wanted to become a Healer himself. He wasn't the Heir and was happy to take the Black name. They were to be married in May and would hopefully have a child within the next year. In the meantime, they spent their courting gleefully discussing their shared passion for Healing and were quickly falling in love, despite Andromeda's previous claims that she would never adore a man as she did her work.
Arcturus sipped a lovely-aged bourbon and sat calmly at his desk, going over the latest proposals for the Wizengamot when Kreature popped into his study.
"Miss Noelle is in the living room, Lord Black," he informed Arcturus with a bow.
Arcturus was shocked, but not displeased with this development. He hadn't known when she was going to complete her trials as a battle mage but had both longed for and dreaded her return. He had no idea how she had reacted to the news of her brother's death and Sirius' imprisonment. He hurried downstairs, though he managed to make his haste look stately and purposeful.
"Noelle," he greeted warmly, but stopped abruptly. She was dressed in battle robes, but that wasn't new, it was the bundle in her arms and the fury in her eyes that gave him pause.
"Lord Black," she greeted formally with a slight bow around her bundle, "I respectfully request the services of a Healer and sanctuary for my young charge and myself."
He stood straighter and inclined his head, "Your request has been accepted. Let me call for Andromeda and we may adjourn to my office."
He led her up the stairs and back into his office. Kreature popped in with a plate of crumpets and tea, which he placed upon the desk. He called his Patronus – a stern gyrfalcon – and asked for Andromeda's immediate presence with a Healer's kit in his office. Andromeda walked in less than a minute later, gasping for breath. As she composed herself, she pulled a matchbox-sized kit out of her pocket and enlarged it.
Noelle seemed to take a deep breath and then said, "Arcturus, Andy, this is my nephew Hadrian James Potter. I rescued him from terrible conditions Andy. He was shoved in a small cupboard, wearing a thin, overly large shirt, covered in bruises, had on a diaper that obviously hadn't been changed in a while and hadn't been fed well even though the other child and the father in the home were both grossly overweight. I removed the clothing, spelled away the feces and urine, cleaned out the infection and closed the wounds, and gave him a bath. I gave him a sip of a pain relief and a nutrition potion, practically coated him in bruise balm, and placed one drop of dreamless sleep on his tongue. Andy, please check him over."
By the time she had finished her speech, both Blacks had exchanged their pureblood masks for enraged snarls, but the desperate plea jolted them from their thoughts of vengeance for now. Andromeda immediately began to cast diagnostic spells, though she left the child in Noelle's lap. When she had finished those, she quickly set the fractured wrist Noelle had missed and wrapped bandages around the offending limb. She placed five drops of skelegrow on his tongue, even though he whimpered in his sleep at the taste.
When she had finished, she turned to Noelle, "You did everything right. In fact, due to your power and close relation to him, you did better than I could. His core recognized your own and with the power you placed behind your spells, he should be fine physically in a few days with some good meals and nutrition potions. Leave the bandages on his wrist for tonight and I'll check again tomorrow, but they should be okay to take off in the morning. There is a concerning taint of dark magic around his scar, but I suggest going to the goblins to figure out what it could be."
"I'm calling all the Blacks to a meeting," Arcturus said with authority.