Title: The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any scenes, places, or characters written in the books about him. I have made no profit from this story, and mean no copyright infringement.
Warnings: Sexual situations, Violence, Rape… Character deaths…possible implied slash.
Notes: The amount of times I have rewritten this chapter… ugh. Whereas before I wasn't really sure about what I was doing, I now have everything pretty much planned. Hopefully the wait won't be quite as long for the next chapter.
Chapter One: Letters
A large black owl swept into the great hall of Hogwarts during dinner. Many eyes fell upon it as it soared towards the head table, straight towards the headmaster. Regally, the owl landed, knocking over his stew.
Dumbledore eyed the owl carefully and casted a few revealing charms on the letter cluched in its claw. Nothing deadly or harmful appeared, and so he relinquished the owl of its burden. It took the cue, and swooped away.
The envelope was entirely black aside from the name Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore written in elegant silver handwriting on the front, and a green wax seal on the back that he couldn't make out.
He peeled off the wax seal and slid out the black paper that felt almost silky to the touch. He unfolded the paper and his eyes widened slightly at the contents.
Lord Albus Percival Wulfric Brian of the Benevolent and Most Ancient House of Dumbledore,
Out of respect for my father's last wishes, I have decided to contact you. Although I do not agree with his forgiveness of you, I have acquiesced to his wishes.
For years I have been watching your actions in the great second war. While I have no great love of you, or our floundering ministry's policies, I also have no wish for the Dark Lord to create chaos. My father and I have been neutral for many years. It is time for this to no longer be so.
I have come to the decision to take action. However, I do not intend to become any sort of servant for your cause or the Dark Lord's. I am willing to reach a compromise.
It now begs the question; do you have enough cunning to deal with a Black?
I await your response.
Lord Christian Regulus James of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black
Standing up abruptly Dumbledore gathered the note and the envelope and swiftly left the hall. Whispers erupted behind him.
---
Number twelve Grimmauld Place was a grim household. Black curtains marred the walls, and there was forever a smell of mustiness. Of death.
Christian Black had always loved the house nevertheless. It was the place where he had grown up. The old house held some of his most treasured memories, and some of his most frightening.
Growing up a Black is not an easy task, but if you survived the brutalities then you are much stronger for it. That is why the family Black has survived throughout the generations. They have never forgotten the old traditions, and yet still manage to adapt to the new.
The Black's are powerful and cunning, and that is why they have endured.
Until now. Christian couldn't help but think as he walked through the dank corridors. But I'm going to change all of that.
Christian made his way to the sun porch and sat down in one of the antique chairs. Snapping his fingers he ordered for the house-elf. Moments later it popped into existence, waiting to serve. Christian had always hated the decrepit elf, and had been wishing for its death for years. Soon enough it would join its relatives on the wall.
Sipping on the newly supplied Earl Grey he stared out at the sky, waiting for the reply he knew was coming. Perseus, his messenger had already returned, having delivered its bundle.
Now all he had to do was wait for Dumbledore to make the next move. Then the game would begin.
--
Albus Dumbledore was at a loss.
He didn't get into such a state very often anymore, having found wisdom and maturity in his age. However the letter in front of him was both puzzling and unexpected. There was much to think about before he replied.
Apparently the Black line was no longer as dead as everyone had thought. Just that very aspect of the letter made no sense. The last two heirs of the Blacks had been Regulus and Sirius. Regulus had been killed by Voldemort and Sirius had died in the pits of Azkaban.
And yet somehow there was an heir; an heir who was considering helping the side of the light.
Maybe.
Too many things didn't add up. He would have to meet this new heir in his own terms. There was something suspicious about the whole thing. Something that just didn't ring true and Dumbledore wasn't going to be caught off guard.
Yes, he knew just the way to handle the situation. And maybe, something good could come of it.
--
A large brown barn owl flew tapped on the window of Christian's study. Dumbledore's response had finally come.
Christian took the letter from the plain owl, sneering at it when it refused to move. Apparently it knew nothing of proper etiquette and wanted the biscuits sitting on a plate in the middle of the desk. Christian sneered again and tossed a biscuit at its head, startling the bird and making it fly out the window.
He opened the letter carefully a peered at the contents.
Christian Regulus James of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black,
I have received your letter with great surprise. I must admit that I was not aware that any of the heirs Black had survived the last war. It has pleased me deeply to hear of your family's continuing survival.
There is much that we need to discuss in order to form a compromise as you put it. I think that in order to best do this we will need to meet. I have decided that the best place would be on neutral grounds, and where better than the land where our ancestors used to reach formal agreements. I believe that you know of the location. You may set the time.
As for the other contents of your letter, I would like to mention that the light side does not have servants. Everyone who I lead chooses to follow me with their own free will for the better of the country.
Truly,
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian of the Benevolent and Most Ancient House of Dumbledore.
It was everything that Harry had wanted. Everything was falling into place, and now all he had to do was set the day. Soon the burden his father had put on him would be finished, and he could live his own life.
Or so he thought.