Harriet woke in blackness. She lay on a flat, hard surface. The surface under her felt coarse and grainy, but she didn't have the space to adjust her position. When she lifted her hands, they collided with a ceiling only inches from her face. She pushed against it, but it didn't budge. Her hands went out to the sides, finding wooden walls on either side.
Breath quickening, she felt every available surface, movements growing increasingly frantic.
She was trapped. Trapped in a small wooden box.
She pounded on the lid. She kicked out, screaming and scratching even as splinters worked under her nails and blood streamed down her fingers. Her breathing strained as she began to feel light-headed, movements dulling even as her panic crested to new peaks.
As she started to suffocate, a sound to her right caught her attention. She turned, movements stiff, and encountered a sight that chilled the blood in her veins.
Dudley's severed head.
His eyes were glassy and unfocused, mouth gaping slightly—just like it been that day in the park.
The dead boy opened his mouth. When he spoke, it was with Micah's voice.
"You really suck at chess, you know that?"
Harriet snapped awake in a soft, luxurious bed in Castle Black, choking off her screams with an instinct born of years of nightly beatings. When she was brave enough to move, she reached for the owl in her pocket, clutching it to her chest. She lay unmoving in that position for the rest of the night.
That morning, Harriet was dressed by Wibbly in a grey silken robe. The creature also brought her a pair of glasses. They were round and set in a similar frame to her former ones, but the lenses weren't nearly as thick. When she put them on, she found that she could see more clearly through these glasses than her old pair, which had been years out of date.
She spent a few minutes blankly tracing the details of the wallpaper and carpets before Wibbly urged her that it was time to go.
It took a couple minutes to reach the room where she'd be taking breakfast. Harriet did her best to memorise the route they took, but grew hopelessly lost after the first minute.
"Wibbly—" Harriet started, then stopped.
'Can't I even ask a question of a servant?' she thought, berating herself.
"Wibbly, where am I? What is this place?"
"Why, you are in Castle Black, Missy Harry! It's the home of the Blacks: the greatest, oldest, most ancient and noblest of all houses!"
"Um, and where is Castle Black?"
Its ears twitched "Where? Wibbly shouldn't say. It is a secret place, more secret than normal wizarding places."
Wibbly seemed happy to answer her, so Harriet continued to ask questions as they walked down a long flight of stairs. The creature didn't answer many questions regarding Castle Black or about the two men who'd "adopted" her, but it seemed free to talk about itself.
Harriet learned was that Wibbly was a 'she,' a member of a species of wizarding servants called house-elves, and that she had once been the personal house-elf of Harriet's grandmother, Dorea. From this, Harriet deduced that Wibbly was every bit as ancient as she looked.
"You resembles Mistress Dorry," said Wibbly, looking at her with watery eyes. "Wibbly misses Mistress Dorry a lot. She didn't come back after the argument, even after promising Wibbly. Sad business, sad business."
"What argument?" asked Harriet.
The elf's ears drooped. "Wibbly shouldn't say. Sad business."
They reached their destination shortly afterwards. It was the fourth chamber in Castle Black Harriet had stepped inside, and it was easily the most incredible place she had ever seen—and she'd seen the Ministry Atrium.
It was so big that it would take her half a minute to sprint from one end to the other. Four great vaulting pillars reached up to a dizzyingly high ceiling. The place was packed with stuffed armchairs and couches, each sequestered in little groups around tables or the hearths that dotted the walls. It was a room that could comfortably seat a thousand.
But this wasn't what drew her eyes—it was the windows.
Four huge, ornate windows were placed in the centre of each of the four walls of the chamber. They must have been twenty feet tall and half as wide. Her first thought was that their existence was impossible. They travelled downward to get here, so some of the windows should have been looking out into blank stone, but none of them did.
Instead, each window showed a completely different scene. The first great portal had a view over a verdant green forest. The second showed a black shoreline, waves crashing on jagged maws of rock. The third was a frozen mountaintop looking down into a deep valley shrouded in fog. In the distance, more mountains lorded over the land like the spine of a great dinosaur. The fourth huge window showed a desert expanse, thought in the distance she spotted the silhouette of a city of gleaming spires.
There were many other windows too, smaller than the first four. They crowded the walls all the way up to the ceiling, each giving a glimpse into another world. Some of them were pitch black, but others showed forests, or villages, or entire cities. Each place had a different climate and architectural style. Harriet saw one skyline that looked like New York, and another like London, though it was only a portion of the city—rows upon rows of ancient apartment buildings, crammed together like teeth. A few windows even showed odd sights like a pub, the inside of a closet, and in one case what looked like a view of the bottom of the sea.
Harriet ran over to the closest window—the one with the mountain valley.
'Is this Scotland? The mountains are so big.'
As she watched, the mist swirled, evaporating from the light of the morning sun that beat down upon it. She'd never seen anything like it. She knew of enchanted portraits, but she hadn't seen any with moving backgrounds as well.
"Are they televisions?" she asked aloud. No television she'd heard of was this large or had such high quality. "It can't be real," she murmured.
"It is."
The male voice caught her off-guard, and she whirled about to see Cygnus Black seated on a nearby armchair, a book resting on his knee. She hadn't seen him when she entered as he'd seated himself so that the back of the chair would hide him from the door.
"Lord B—I mean, Uncle Cygnus!" she exclaimed.
His upper lip twitched, and he gestured at a chair across from him. "Sit."
She walked over and perched on the edge of the chair, straight-backed and nervous. A coffee table lay in between them, but she found herself wanting for a steel wall there instead.
"I see you've taken a liking to the Lower Atrium. That gladdens me—this is one of my favourite places in the castle." He waved a hand at the scene around them. "The windows here are enchanted to show various places around the world. The one you were looking out of is a view of the Swiss Alps."
Harriet glanced once again at the great window. 'I didn't think Scotland had mountains like that.'
"Castle Black has few true windows," he continued. "Even if it did, you wouldn't see much save the forest that blankets this island."
'So we're on an island,' she thought. She had a vague memory of getting on a boat with some muggles before they drugged her. She wished she knew how far she was from London… or if she were still in Britain.
Harriet flinched as two house-elves suddenly appeared with a pop, bearing platters laden with food. Fruit, pastries, eggs, sausages, buttery rolls… Wibbly took the platter from one of them, placing it in front of Harriet along with a glass filled to the brim with a colourful juice. The elf then retreated behind her chair, standing still and silent.
Though anxiety tempered her hunger, the sight of the food still made her mouth water. She hadn't eaten the sandwiches from the previous night, making her last meal a bowl of porridge from Ada's apartment.
She sat very still, waiting for some signal that it was all right to eat.
"You at least have better manners than Narcissa's boy," Cygnus mused, watching her. "You may eat. We will talk after."
Harriet began nibbling at her plate, taking frequent glances at the man as she did. Though her hunger ached, she knew better than to gorge herself. He paid her little mind while they ate, but she noticed that he consumed his breakfast as though it were a chore. His manners were impeccable, but as she watched him lift a fork laden with a chunk of sausage to his mouth, which he chewed and swallowed without changing his expression once. If Harriet hadn't a plate of her own, she'd have assumed his food tasted like cardboard. Cygnus' eyes, normally so intense, seemed distant as they gazed out the window and down into the misty valley.
He blinked, finally noticing her look. Glancing over at her, he frowned. She froze.
'I ate too much. He's going to scold me.'
"Has no one taught you how to eat with a fork?" he asked.
"Oh—I—sorry," she said.
She realized the source of his displeasure now. She rarely used utensils when she ate, and almost never when she felt so vulnerable. It was easier to eat quietly and out of sight by grabbing some food and retreating to her room at the Dursleys. At school, a few kids made fun of her for it, but most people ignored her. Even Ada had given up and resorted to finger-foods and sandwiches when she was living in Vertiq.
Harriet put a slice of pear back onto the plate. After wiping her fingers on a napkin, she picked up her fork and attempted to spear the morsel. After two fruitless attempts, she managed it on the third try. Her nerves didn't make the process any easier.
Cygnus didn't say another word until they were done. Harriet took a long time as she clumsily navigated around her fruit and eggs with a fork. At last, unwilling to waste her uncle's time and risk his displeasure, she put her utensil down and pushed her plate away before she was full.
Once the house-elves had taken away the plates, he crossed his knees and folded his hands, staring at her.
"The first order of business today is your name," he said. "You must receive a new one—a name appropriate for a daughter of House Black. One that we may use when introducing you to the other members of the family."
"Yes, sir."
He smiled thinly, as though he expected more resistance but was glad to find Harriet yielding.
"I will give you the luxury of choosing the name, a privilege most are not granted," he explained. Then, he waved a hand and conjured a piece of parchment. "There is an approved list that you will be selecting the name from."
He picked up the paper, scanning it. "Traditionally, though not always, children of the main line are given the name of stars or constellations. Following custom, I will exclude the names that have already been given to other Blacks from your generation."
'Stars have names?' She glanced over at the great window with the view of the night sky. 'All of them? But there are so many!'
"Adhara," began Cygnus. "The virginal star and second brightest in Canis Major. Rather ill-timed, I think. I shouldn't have put it on the list. Maybe in twenty or thirty years..."
He moved on to the next.
"Aquila, the Eagle. A trusted guardian. Aquila does not pursue its own greatness, but brings others to glory."
"Alcyone," he said.
"Alhena."
He read a few more, then…
"Cassiopeiea." He paused. "I know I included it, but I doubt she would approve. Perhaps we'd best skip this one as well."
He rattled off several in short order, giving each a short description, though they all began to blur together in Harriet's head.
"Castula."
"Delphinus."
"Denebola."
. . .
"Lyra."
Harriet perked up. The last one sounded rather pretty.
"The charming instrument of Orpheus," continued the man. "Glamour and charisma suits this name. But by only being able to manipulate and rely on others, it is a weak name and unworthy of a daughter of the main branch."
Disappointed, she slumped back down.
"Maia," he continued.
. . .
"Zozma."
He ended the list, looking up to see Harriet's flummoxed face.
"I sense that you haven't taken a particular liking to any of them. Let's see… you are young, a new and unexpected addition to this family. Perhaps a more modern name would suit you?"
This time, he did not bring out a list. He spoke from memory, watching Harriet as he did.
"Adrastea. Or Amalthea. Both are soothing, kind, motherly. Not fitting with your background, but the choice is yours."
"Ariel."
"Callisto, the nymph. A seductress and warrior. Shares resonance with the stars of Ursa Major."
"Dione."
"Elara."
"Europa."
This wasn't going much better than the first time. Harriet felt lost as he rattled off name after name and their meanings. Cygnus was nearly at the end of the list when a formless anxiety gripped her, squeezing down. It felt like something invisible was approaching. Something large.
She interpreted the panic in the way she was most familiar:
'If I don't choose one, he'll get angry with me.'
"Umbriel," said Cygnus. "The—"
"That one!" Harriet exclaimed, gut seizing in fright when she realized she interrupted him. Even so, the talons in her heart eased their grip.
He gazed at her impassively. "…The Hateful Gnome. A satire, twisted further in the shadow of cruel Ouranos. Powerful but underhanded, a creature whose motives are unknown, it leaves suffering in its wake. This is the name you want?"
'Well, not when you put it like that!'
"Y-yes, Uncle Cygnus."
"Very well. A strong title for one of this House. Umbriel Black is your name. Though it is only an alias for now, one day soon, it shall be yours in truth."
'In truth? Isn't your name just whatever someone calls you?'
Cygnus reached for his cane and stood. "Come. It is time you met your Granduncle properly. He will explain our plans for you."