Chapter summary: Residents of 12 Grimmauld Place discuses a variety of subjects from hypothetical murders, vengeful ghost to how to protect Harry from Dumbledore's twinkling gaze.
Word count: About 6400.
Author's note: It's a dialogue heavy chapter, I'm not going to lie. Some of this dialogue is necessary for advancement of the plot, some is purely hypothetical and some is cautionary tale. If it gives a feeling of being a filler chapter then it's because it is. But don't worry there's action coming in the next chapter. And from that one there aren't many chapters left leading to conclusion of Entropy.
Well, likely conclusion of Entropy. That's something I'm still on the fence. Separating parts worked for me in so far, seeing that every single one of them aside of being connected to the other has its own theme. For Collision Course it was the bonding between Sirius, Regulus and Harry and the events leading to the forming a quite unlikely alliance. Supernova was Hermione's quest for truth and while one can make an argument that she didn't learn the whole truth, she learned a part of it and on her way there she grew as a character and developed a couple of valuable friendships. Entropy, hence the title, was/is about strengthening existing bonds and forging the new ones. As the name suggests it's chaotic and unpredictable in its chaos. But the next part… I already have an overarching theme for it and some choices for a title to go with it.
And then there's the other reason. I suffer from a notoriously bad habit of not finishing stuff. I can't hide it. I either lose interest or the plot or both and with no clear end in sight… Well, one only needs to take a look at my profile page on ffnet. Concluding a part of the overall story gives me both a sense of accomplishment and motivation to continue. Sure, I'm still going to climb Mount Everest but having the journey spread out doesn't make it as daunting as making it in one go.
That leads me to the third reason. I'm a reader, an avid one. Of both books and fanfiction. But with limited time for that I tend to stray from unfinished stories unless I can tell (easier on ao3) that the story is not in progress anymore and is merely posted in parts for editing purposes. I know that I'm not the only that does so. So separate parts are for people like me.
Dedicated to all of my readers who stuck with me for so long in spite of my shortcomings. Thank You, I hope that You will find this story enjoyable. I adore seeing your reactions because not only they're thought provoking but also can be so inspiring that I will go out of my way to write a nearly 100k words spin-off. Not that I'm seeking validation but I do enjoy dialogue.
Beta read by nexandvinny.
People who try hard to do the right thing always seem mad.
Stephen King
Secrets & Keepers – Entropy
Chapter nineteen: Circles
Harry Potter, 22nd August 1993, 12 Grimmauld Place, London
Harry wasn't paying too much attention to the argument going on behind his back. It had been pretty much going in circles for the last half of an hour. He wasn't really a deciding party in all of it anyway.
After a couple of weeks of tinkering, Babbling was finally ready with her projects. The impressive number of which Harry managed to track to three for sure. Yesterday, she tried out the binding enchantment she built for Sirius on him, and everybody had been pleased as much as impressed. Sirius had taken his sweet time to test everyone's ability to force him into human form. They explained the enchantment in greater detail between herself and Sirius, but Harry completely lost track of things roughly two minutes in. What mattered to him was that it worked and that Sirius couldn't be forced to transform between forms, either as a dog or a man. Which seemed like overkill in protective measures, but Babbling insisted, and Sirius agreed.
Then there was the enchantment bound to Regulus, details of which also flew over Harry's head. He understood that the enchantment was attached to the Babbling family ring meant for the heir of the family. The ring itself was visible, and the enchantments itself were deeply buried under layers of protective charms. They were designed in such a way that everybody who wasn't in on it, which included everyone gathered at Grimmauld Place, would believe that Regulus Black was Aaron Babbling, the youngest surviving son of a recently (though really not that much) deceased David Babbling.
And then there was what it meant for Regulus, who was scowling at the discussing parties from his perch on the armchair in front of Harry's. The ring itself wasn't strictly binding him to his current form as far as Harry understood the enchantments. But, nevertheless, it compelled him to stay locked in the state he had when he put it on. Like Sirius, he couldn't be forced to transform between forms and was the only person who could remove the ring from his finger.
As for the form, it was interesting, and Harry could see a solid familial resemblance to Babbling. He still had black curly hair and brown eyes, but his nose looked much like Babbling's. And what amused Harry to no end was that he was shorter than Harry, not by much but enough to apparently regret it relatively quickly.
Finally, there was the enchantment meant for Harry and the source of the current argument. What Sirius and Babbling couldn't agree on and consequently had the others chipping in was how the enchantment was supposed to be bound to Harry.
For safety reasons, Sirius insisted on a permanent binding from what Harry managed to gather would be some sort of a tattoo. Snape and Babbling vehemently disagreed, as did Regulus, with a smaller degree of vehemence.
And then there was the issue of anchor for the enchantment. While Harry practised limited levels of what Sirius called Occlumency (and Snape did not) in the last couple of days, he was miles away from being even moderately practised. And he needed another person to sustain Occlumency shields so his mind could be protected from the intrusion just as if he was doing it on his own and all the while teaching him how to protect himself like training wheels on a bike.
That was another source of the argument, apparently. That the anchor needed to be sufficient in Occlumency was obvious, as well that one needed to be adequate enough to maintain their own Occlumency shields as much as Harry's. The problem was with settling who it was going to be.
Two leading contenders were: Sirius (nearly twelve years of Azkaban's high-security cell with two soul and happiness-sucking Dementors for company) and Snape (double agent whose true alliance was known entirely only to him and him alone). Then there was Regulus, who managed to avoid being located by Dumbledore under his real identity and survived a couple of attempts at having his memories modified. And at the end was Remus Lupin, werewolf and naturally resistant to Legilimency.
The one thing everybody agreed on was that for safety reasons, it shouldn't be Babbling. And Tonks? She claimed that she would do it if no one else would, but she admitted that she didn't have that much confidence in her own abilities to sustain her own Occlumency shields and Harry's at the same time.
The anchor argument had been going in circles for the past half of an hour, with periodic breaks for debates over the manner of binding. Finally, Harry was beginning to feel fed up with it.
For some reason, Sirius refused the binding to the Black family heir ring, which Harry had been wearing for the past couple of days. Why? He refused to admit, aside from muttering something about the unsafety of placing all of one's eggs in the same basket. Harry didn't know what the ring was supposed to do aside from what his pendants could also do. What he did know was that it felt like a part of his own skin despite being made from metal, platinum to be exact and that it felt like such to anyone who wasn't aware that he was wearing it. Then there was the compulsion charm that flared every time Harry attempted to remove it. Strangely enough, those attempts were also encouraged by Sirius, who at the same time insisted that Harry needed to wear it at all times for safety reasons.
It had taken him all but a couple of tries to figure out what it was about. Testing and improving his resistance to compulsion charms. So he dutifully tried and, at times, was successful in removing the ring.
And while being branded didn't exactly sit right with Harry, he could see where Sirius was coming from. A tattoo couldn't be removed, and if it was inconspicuous enough, it would be all but invisible.
Like the one on Sirius's back, for example, to Sirius, it was a mere tattoo, one of many on that, but so inconspicuous that almost nobody knew that he had it until Babbling figured out what the tiny supposed moles on Sirius's back meant.
On the other hand, it would be a permanent magical tattoo, and he knew enough about them and wearers of thereof to know that sometimes one might regret getting them immensely.
Hence his interest in the argument over the anchor. Sirius, he wouldn't mind or Regulus or Lupin but Snape… He wasn't very confident that he wanted the Potion Master anywhere near his thoughts.
"How would it work for me?" he asked, sizing the tiny break in the argument for the involved parties to hydrate themselves with tea. "Would it be like a possession?"
"Of course not," protested Babbling. "Sirius had been teaching you how to clear your mind, right?" she asked. "The enchantment wouldn't create a constant presence in your thoughts. That would be possession, and that's not only illegal but also physically and mentally taxing," she paused. "You're too young for practical application of conjuring, but you do understand the concept, don't you?"
Harry nodded slowly before he explained, "Unless not made permanent by spells or rituals, conjured objects disappear the moment the conjurer dies or severs the link between themselves and conjured objects."
"It would be the same with the enchantment," said Babbling. "It would use a tiny fraction of anchor's power to maintain the shields while working off your own power levels while at the same time disguising all of it from intrusion. There's no point in creating Occlumency shields if the intruder would be instantly aware of the presence of thereof. The only time you will feel strange… er," she hesitated briefly, "if it would be subjected to Legilimency already. That's why we're hurrying up the process so you can grow more comfortable with it."
"And it won't be an excuse to not practice Occlumency on your own," added Snape pointedly. "Unless you would prove to be totally inept in the art. Some people do."
"Mastery comes with practice," pointed out Sirius. "The main purpose of the anchor is to guide you to mastering Occlumency on your own while at the same time protecting your mind from the intrusion itself. Had it not been for Dumbledore and his need to rifle through people's thoughts, we would have gone the old fashioned way of trial and error. But we can't exactly afford errors, can we?" he sighed.
"Another question," said Harry with a nod. "How much power I would be leeching from the anchor?"
"In the beginning?" asked Snape simply. "A substantial amount that's certain but not at all times, only in Headmaster's presence, especially with direct eye contact. But you will be continuously tested, so hopefully, the output will soon be reduced to minimal and danger induced. Say directly performed Legillimency by either Headmaster or the Dark Lord."
"Why then, instead of one, we don't use multiple anchors?" asked Harry pensively.
"Because although the end result of protecting one's mind from intrusion is the same, everybody achieves it differently. Some stonewall all intrusion altogether, some filter their thoughts by the source of the attack and if required provide appropriate feedback," replied Snape.
"Hence the argument," muttered Harry.
"Stonewalling would protect your thoughts better," Snape continued. "On that, I agree with Black. But as good of protection it is, it would draw Headmaster's attention. Had you entered Hogwarts capable of stonewalling the intrusions, it wouldn't have been an issue. But you did not, and you can't go from nought to mastery over the summer without alarming the Headmaster. And alarmed Headmaster is a snooping Headmaster. We definitely didn't want that."
"Unless we will have a perfect hiding spot to dispose of his corpse," muttered Regulus. "Just saying," he added with a slight shrug when everybody stared at him in shock.
"You hadn't been that murderous as an adult," muttered Tonks. "Do your murderous urges correlate to your current height?"
Harry snorted at that while Regulus huffed, and a weird look passed through Sirius's face as he looked at Snape.
"You aren't planning to kill him, are you?" asked Harry sceptically.
"I spent almost twelve years in Azkaban for murders I didn't commit," said Sirius simply.
"One could make an argument that you preserved your sentence," said Snape in a calm, almost casual tone.
"One would if one was unaware that a premeditated murder gets between twenty-five to life in Azkaban," replied Sirius. Then, after clearing his throat, he added, "and due to increased lifespan of wizarding folk, Wizengamot tends to go for fifty to life. But if needs must…" he drawled out. "I'm a trained Auror, and if I was going to kill him, then his body would have never been found."
"Did you get into Bloody Cygnus's diaries for leisure readings by any chance?" asked Regulus innocently.
"I didn't because unlike some people," said Sirius while looking at Regulus, "I took Grandpa's word for them being bloody. But if I was to take murder as a day job, I would have gotten the way my tenth-century namesake had gone," he clarified.
"Meaning?" asked Tonks curiously.
"If you didn't hear that one, then I'm not going to offend your sensibilities with it," said Sirius with a grimace.
"Come on," protested Tonks, as did Harry.
Not that he was that curious, but as he found out in recent weeks, Sirius' tales always had some lessons to take away from them. This one couldn't be much different.
"What was known about him for certain is his name, his moniker and his skills with Transfiguration. His skill was to the point that when his brothers headed to war, instead of joining them, he remained behind to prepare young wizards to fight with the help of magic. Also, unlike his brothers, he was a family man that sired with his wife, twelve whelps and one daughter. The girl was supposedly the prettiest in the land and, given predominant family genetics bore a telling resemblance to a Snow White, although that tale is much younger. She was the youngest of the family and their pride and joy, universally adored by everyone she encountered. Even before she reached marriageable age, which back then was fifteen, she and her family had many candidates to choose from," Sirius explained and paused briefly. "Then, about a month shy of fifteen years of age, she disappeared without a trace only to be found about a year later on the side of the road."
"That's a good thing, isn't it?" asked Tonks.
Sirius looked at her pointedly before he continued, "She was in an atrocious physical state, bruised and battered, with many broken limbs. Her teeth were knocked out, her head shaved, with pieces of skin on the head missing. Along with her was discovered a dead female infant and upon closer examination, it was evident that she recently had given birth, most likely to that dead infant. While she survived, she was traumatised beyond belief, not only physically but also mentally."
"He found the perpetrator," interjected Snape.
"Perpetrators," Sirius corrected him. "One of the supposedly scorned lads that with the help of his brothers kidnapped her and hid in one of their family estates. Then, whatever they admitted to it or not, the entire family was invited for a feast that perplexed Sirius's sons to no end. Whatever they knew the truth is unclear. What is what happened later and that it was the last time anyone had seen that family alive."
"Oh," whispered Harry.
"So a century or two went by, and one of the heads of the family of that time, recently named if my memory serves me correctly, was doing the tour of the family properties. By then, Sirius's branch had died out or moved on and out, not that there would be many of them left. There were some internal debates between that head and the previous one about keeping empty estates, and supposedly he was very curious why his father or grandfather was dead set against getting rid of that particular property," continued Sirius.
"Because it had a lot on unaccounted corpses in there, I presume," interjected Snape.
"The family legend has it that as soon as he entered the property line, he had encountered a very perplexing ghost. Back then, the rule of the thumb when it came to turning into ghosts was as well-known as it's now," added Sirius.
"Meaning?" Harry interrupted curiously.
"Unclear," muttered Snape. "The subject had been literarily studied into death. Willing participants of those experiments are incapable of telling what exactly made them ghosts. But the general consensus is that this particular state has a lot to do with one's fear of death itself, readiness for it and unfinished businesses. Ghosts can move on and can be exorcised. That much is certain. And sometimes the existence of one ghost can be connected to the existence of others."
"Like Grey Lady and Bloody Baron," interjected Babbling. "He never speaks apart to Slytherins and other ghosts occasionally, as does she but to Ravenclaws instead. From what I managed to gather, she committed some deed which details I'm still trying to piece out. Way back when I was young, there was some minor ghost of an old Ravenclaw girl that died during some sort of epidemic that claimed that the Lady returned to Hogwarts after her death out of spite to punish Rowena Ravenclaw for some supposed affront. In turn, Ravenclaw bound her into eternal servitude to the castle and the students. About the Baron, she said that she once heard him speak to the Lady that he won't move on until she does, to which the Lady replied that then he would never move on."
"And what happened to that particular ghost?" asked Snape pensively.
"Moved on," sighed Babbling. "While I was still at school. Curse bound by one of hers ancestors, I think. From what I gathered, she was a girl who scorned family values and either ran away or killed herself instead of marrying. She wasn't exactly forthcoming with details, but she was a teenager and loved to gossip. She wasn't a permanent resident, that much I'm certain, seeing that she was bound to her family until they died out."
"That's sad," sighed Harry.
"Not at all," replied Babbling. "She was a right menace from what I managed to find out. She claimed that she loved being a ghost for a while, for a couple of decades or centuries, until she realised that she couldn't participate in many things. So she grew spiteful and started working towards thwarting family efforts to thrive, stuff like appearing before spouses and sowing distrust, fear and doubt in the faithfulness of the other spouse. Appearing only to children to talk them into mischief. The last of her family descendants were still alive back in the seventies but on what she cheerfully described was last legs."
"What about that ghost on the forsaken property, though?" asked Tonks, drawing them back to the original subject.
"Where I was?" muttered Sirius. "Ah, the ghost of the Black family," he added quickly. "Whatever or not, it was some ancient curse to prevent the dead from getting involved. The Black family never had a ghost, at the very least a widely known one. So the man in question was very perplexed by the presence of one that begged him to release him and his family from their prison by finding them."
"What sort of a prison?" asked Tonks curiously.
"He hadn't gotten a name or any help on the matter from the ghost himself as apparently, he could only appear in the spot he was first seen and could say very little else aside of begging for mercy. Not that it had been a priority for that ancestor of mine, it was whatever or not he could get rid of that estate. But through decades, he and his descendants had pieced together parts of the story, and one after the other came to the same conclusion that they got what they deserved," explained Sirius.
"Do you believe so?" asked Lupin pensively. "And what in particular had been done to them?"
"They had been all doused with a potent sleeping potion. Then, one after the other, they were carried out by Sirius himself into that road where his daughter was found and transfigured into a tree. Once he was done with all of them, he made a moor around that particular copse that was insanely inaccessible and cursed them for good measure. To only commune with the head of the Black family on that particular spot, the ghost had been found but without allowing them to reveal the location of their bodies," answered Sirius.
"How do you know that?" asked Tonks curiously.
"Because that tale was one of the many lessons that I learned sitting by Grandpa's knees. One was that there were no limits to which one could go to protect one's family. As for the others?" replied Sirius and shrugged. "The one which I took away the most at the time was that the Blacks were always champions at holding a grudge. And then there was the other that connects to how they were set free, which was when you're applying for a public position, then you should get rid of all the skeletons in your closet," he paused and snorted. "It was my great-grandfather that finally released them by torching the whole empty estate and turning the whole place into the lake."
"Which is why we have a deed to a bloody lake of all things," muttered Regulus. "How is that I never heard that one?"
"Because it's one of these things that gets passed from head to heir on for your ears only basis," replied Sirius simply.
"But you're telling us now," pointed out Snape. "Trying to tell us that you're planning to plant a tree?"
"No," said Sirius and shrugged. "I get where my namesake was coming from, though. He wanted to see them pay for what they had done for as long as he lived. I wouldn't waste that much energy on murderous revenge. What I would have done if I was hypothetically planning to murder Dumbledore would be turning him into a pebble and beating it out into the middle of the lake. I didn't particularly enjoy Quidditch as much as James had, but I was made beater not because our star seeker whined at the captain to let me in until he gave up."
"Oh, believe me, I and my ribs would know," chipped in Regulus. "He beat the bludger across the field with such force that he nearly knocked me off the broomstick with it, broke four of my ribs and then dared to chastise me for getting in the way."
"Well, you were in the way," replied Sirius simply. "I wasn't aiming the bludger your way until you were in pursuit of the snitch. You have no idea how many times I heard there are no friends and family in other houses when it comes to Quidditch Cup spiel."
"Because you were doing the same for Mirzam," said Babbling with a slight smirk.
"I believe that we strayed way too far away from the original subject," said Snape calmly. "Prior to discussing hypothetical and not hypothetical murders, we were trying to address a more pressing issue of the anchors."
"And you still didn't explain why there can't be more than one," pointed out Harry.
"Because of still unknown side-effects," replied Snape. "Similar enchantments, while rare, weren't exactly uncommon in the past but were always anchored to one individual rather than a group."
"Would the binding be irreversible?" asked Harry pensively. "For the anchors, I mean. I know that it would be for me if we would go the permanent route."
"I wouldn't make that binding permanent," said Babbling simply. "In fact, I wouldn't make any of them permanent. It's much easier to reverse object bound enchantments than living being ones. And I simply believe that one such thing is enough for one soul," she paused and looking straight into Sirius's eyes, she added, "just saying."
"Just saying," said Sirius with a grimace. "I'm not about to brand a piece of my soul into Harry's."
"But as far as we know, that biding would be permanent," pointed out Babbling. "There are no known records that such biding had ever been broken," she added and sighed. "Listen, I know where you're coming from. I get it. What I don't get is why you're so determined to do it."
Sirius didn't answer for a very long time. Finally, he sighed, and after rubbing his chin, he said quietly, "The choice belongs to Harry."
This was why after the lunch that followed the abrupt ending of that discussion, Harry sought Sirius out. He found him in the garden, smoking, gnawing on a pipe of all things.
"That's a new thing," said Harry simply as he plopped himself on the stair next to Sirius.
"Not really," Sirius replied simply. "It used to belong to my great-grandfather."
"The one after which you had been named?" asked Harry for clarification.
"He used to collect them even though Grandpa Arcturus was certain that he has never seen him smoking one," replied Sirius with a nod. "His wife, Grandma Hesper, had a particular weakness for intricate silverware like you wouldn't believe the stuff that could be put on a fork or a spoon or a knife. I've seen stuff on them that cannot be unseen. Grandma Mel hated all of it and stored most of them in Gringotts, claiming that this way everybody was happy."
"And the pipes?" asked Harry curiously. "Had they been stored away too?"
"Some were," replied Sirius on exhale. "Gruesome stuff mostly, like I'm fairly certain that this hadn't been made out of ivory or animal bones kind of gruesome. The intricate ones had remained as curiosities to entertain men in breaks between port and cards. Grandpa Arcturus was a simple man about his pipes as Grandma had been about the silverware, and he had a habit of misplacing them after cleaning. This one I found at the bottom of the desk that judging by the amount of dust hadn't been thoroughly cleaned since the sixties."
"Is it better?" asked Harry simply. "Than smoking cigarettes, I mean."
"Not really. It's still the same tobacco," replied Sirius. "Snape is a cheap smoker, and this stuff is atrocious. I never had been huge on smoking, but I did have some standards when I did so. But one shouldn't look gifted Hippogriff in the mouth. Lousy as this stuff is, it's still better than the alternative."
What sort of alternative Sirius didn't clarify, but Harry had been around all of the adults long enough to make observations on his own. None of them drank to excess, but they hadn't shied away from a drink when it was being offered by Kreacher. Well, all of them except Sirius, who politely declined to have his glass, cup or goblet filled out with whatever beverage was being offered. Not once Harry had seen him stray away or give into Kreacher's gentle prompting to indulge.
He, and that would probably give Aunt Petunia a heart attack, didn't object to Harry trying some of the beverages in watered versions claiming that prohibition had never worked as intended to. Of course, the law prohibited underage drinking. Still, the worst thing that a parent or guardian could do was utterly abide by it without teaching teenagers responsible drinking. Harry's (great)grandparents had been like that, and Harry heard enough about the drunken shenanigans of his father to learn that his father was a lightweight that did crazy things when drunk. What was even weirder was that Snape grudgingly agreed with that statement.
"Why don't you want to bind the enchantment to the ring?" Harry asked the question that had been on his mind all along. "You're indifferent to most family heirlooms if not openly treating them with disdain. So why is the ring different?"
"Because it isn't just an ordinary ring," replied Sirius. "The only other ringbearer here is Bathsy, and she's a Babbling. So to her, the head and heir rings are simply a piece of jewellery that shows her status and have the same significance as the business card."
"But not to you," said Harry.
"The Black family rings are different. They had never been a simple piece of jewellery or a way to show off our status. That was the eventual by-product of the original design that's centuries if not millennia old. The timeframe of when they came to be has never been clear, nor is what the original rings had been made of. Some Middle Age theorists believed that the first ring came to existence after one of the first heirs barely survived an assassination attempt on his life. Supposedly to protect him, his father had shaped a ring out of the sand that was soaked in his son's blood and turned it into the silver band for the son to always carry with him."
"Did he?" asked Harry sceptically.
"According to the family legend he had," said Sirius simply. "But that's a folktale, and I know enough about transfiguration and habits of old to be hesitant about believing into transforming bloodied sand into silver. Permanent transfiguration has never been easy and requires losing one's powers permanently to the transformed object as well as a ritual. But that much, you know. What I do know is that both rings had been imbued with the blood of old, sons and the fathers, for power and protection."
"Power?" frowned Harry.
"It's blood magic, Harry," said Sirius and sighed heavily. "There's always transference of power involved, one way or the other or both."
"Does it mean that you have the old heads' powers at your disposal? Are you planning to use it?" asked Harry, feeling more than a bit sceptical.
"Yes to the first, no to the second," replied Sirius pensively. "Well, maybe on His Darkness himself one day. It's not a power that should be borrowed lightly. It's old and vengeful, as it was intended to be. Wrath and power of old, to pass on judgement and to protect the family. I'm certain that it wasn't sinister in its origin, but given that more than a handful of my ancestors didn't have their heads screwed the right way…" he paused. "Grandpa Arcturus never used it, nor did his father or grandfather. They trusted in their own abilities and a healthy dose of posturing. To give in and call upon the powers of old was seen by them as a sign of weakness rather than power."
Harry found himself frowning. Although Sirius had been sitting next to him and not looking at him, he saw the older man's lips curling slightly in a smile.
"Phineas Nigellus was a lot of things but not power-hungry," Sirius continued. "Magical power, I mean. Political was another thing, and Grandpa Arcturus used to speculate that it had a lot to do with his position in the family and how he acquired it. He wasn't the designated heir. That would be his older brother. He was old enough to start the training to step into his father's shoes, and when he died…" he paused. "Phineas was the only other son, and while the succession was natural, their father had been doubtful about passing the position onto him. That reluctance had created an overachiever that grew disinterested with achieved positions once he proved to his father over and over again that he was a capable wizard. Had his brother lived, he most likely would have been a hermit scholar locked up in the bubble of his own work."
"And that branch would have ended on him," added Harry.
"Most likely," agreed Sirius and chuckled softly. "Grandpa Sirius, on the other hand from the earliest of years, had been primed into the position. He was the firstborn son and one that was interested in filling up the position. I would never agree with his political views, but I had to hand it to him that he was consistent in them and in his politics. Even if that consistency occasionally meant greasing more than several palms. But that used to be the last resort for him as, unlike his father, he was far more adept at posturing. He was a capable wizard, not absurdly powerful like Dumbledore, but practised and capable. And confidence in one's powers? That usually carries over to how one holds themselves in a public setting."
"How so?" asked Harry curiously.
"Take Snape, for example," replied Sirius. "Snape, I remember from early Hogwarts days was this tiny, gangly thing that skulked around in shadows, and when he wasn't doing that, he was hunching over one obscure tome or another. He was always a hot-headed twat when poked, and we being little shits, immensely enjoyed doing so. But now," Sirius gestured with his hand, "the way he carries himself now is a learned thing. Slytherin was always a place for purebloods and pureblood descending half-bloods. Most of them had always had some form of magical tutoring before Hogwarts, either at the hands of their relatives or handsomely paid and discrete tutors disguised as family secretaries or stewards. So posturing comes quite naturally to most Slytherins, and the others tend to acquire it over time."
"And you?"
"I was the heir and future head of the Black family. I learned my first spells by my Grandpa's knee, and books and music used to be the only available form of escapism in this household. And then I was the tallest student in my year, and I participated in enough public functions before that to emulate the best example I had," replied Sirius. "Our father was a shite one on his best days, and I didn't want anything to do with him on his worst ones. So everything I know about carrying oneself is what I learned from Grandpa Arcturus."
"You loved him," said Harry softly. "More than you ever cared for your own father."
"For many years, he was the only father I ever knew," replied Sirius and sighed heavily. "He and Grandma had taken upon themselves to raise us as best as they could in this fucked up situation. He wasn't the one for grand gestures of affection, but he was quite expressive with it in a private setting, not physically, though. Physical affection was always a feminine thing, and Grandma never shied away from expressing it. But he had a quite expressive face, or maybe I was that good at reading it. So I knew when he was proud of me or happy with what I did. And I used to hate to disappoint him."
"Is this another reason why you don't want anything tied up with the rings?" asked Harry pensively.
"Partly," admitted Sirius. "I don't give a square root of jack-shit about what my ancestors would think of my decision, they're dead, and I'm the one that heads this family or what was left of it. But I do recognise my place in line. While at the moment I'm the last link in the chain, I won't always remain as such," he paused briefly. "Fact is, I will die, whatever it will be next year or a hundred from now. Fact is, I will never marry or sire a child of my own blood…."
"You don't know that for certain," protested Harry. "There might be…."
"Necromancy is a foul branch of magic that not only is highly frowned upon but also very deceitful," Sirius cut into Harry's sentence. "You're my heir, Harry."
"But I'm not a Black," protested Harry. "Doesn't the family law…"
"Family law is made by those that head the family. And what matters in the survival of the family is that the blood lives on. Granted, there would have to be made some concessions on your part," Sirius continued. "And I'm not asking for them, not yet, and I probably never will but from your own children…."
"Assuming that I will live long enough to have them," muttered Harry grimly. "I can't imagine His Darkness waiting patiently to get rid of me until after I will procreate. What happens then?" he asked. "Who would be the heir after I die?"
"Not really my concern seeing that if you die, I would be dead too," said Sirius simply. "Because everything and everyone determined enough to kill you would have to kill me first."
Harry huffed in a protest.
"Most likely, provided that he won't die along with me, the succession line would befall on Regulus and his children," clarified Sirius. "Assuming that he would disregard his personal preferences for long enough to marry and sire a child or find a benevolent woman that would be happy with the position of the wife but not having much of a husband to warm her bed every night or if he will become the first man that birthed a child."
"Is it possible?" asked Harry sceptically.
"Not as far as I know, but Regulus has a peculiar talent of battling odds just as much as getting himself into peculiar situations," replied Sirius, and he chuckled. "I wouldn't be shocked if he were to conceive a child. Metamorpmagi are rare and hadn't been extensively studied. So there's no knowing whether or not a Metamorpmagus is capable of rewiring their own genetic makeup over time in more ways than just visual."
"And if not Regulus?" sighed Harry.
"Then there are other smaller branches within Phineas Nigellus' line. Granted, their heirs are Muggle, but their ancestors had been Black in name and blood. And magical blood has the annoying tendency of resurfacing. When that happens is another matter altogether, but when it happens, the name and blood of Black family will continue to live on."
"That's why you don't want to bind the enchantment to the ring," said Harry.
"If you decide against permanent binding, I will honour your decision and find another object to bind it to," said Sirius. "Just not this ring."
Harry nodded slowly before he asked, "Why do you think permanent binding would be better? Aside from the obvious reason."
Sirius remained silent for a very long while before he sighed and said, "No enchantment ever has been made permanent, even those that had been called such. They aren't unbroken, just simply not broken yet. And the wizards the enchantment would be against. They're powerful and not lacking in the determination department, Harry. Bathsy is skilled and a powerful witch in her own right that has at her disposal knowledge of generations of wizards before her. But the only thing that she would be having against either of them in a battle would be the element of surprise."
"But if the spell is etched into my skin…" started Harry.
"And bound with blood magic," added Sirius and hummed. "I agree with Snape, Harry," he sighed. "His manner of occluding would work better against Dumbledore's intrusion. But Snape isn't the one that carries your mother's blood in his veins."
"You do," nodded Harry.
Which was how hours later, Harry found himself laying on his stomach on his bed sans the top of pyjama and listening to the lulling chants of Babbling as her wand had trailed over his back from one spot to the other. There was no rhyme or reason to the way it moved, not at first, but it wasn't until he was falling asleep, lulled by Babbling's soft voice and the gentle caresses of Sirius's hand over his head when he realised what it was.
A constellation, and if the order in which she was going was correct, it was the same constellation that Sirius had on his back. Canis Major.
And as he slipped into the land of dreams, he dreamed of boundless meadows which grass swayed in a gentle breeze and a huge black dog running by his side.
TBC
Next: Draco and his entourage. Finally, I should say.
