Holy Moley, it has taken me a week to complete this chapter. I was so excited to begin it. The words flowed effortlessly, until I started falling asleep on my laptop. The constant tiredness and inability to focus, has unfortunately continued. So, if the flow of this is off, I apologize. Time needs to turn back, we have a family to save and a really not light, dark lord to do away with. I want to thank all of you that have, followed (over 600 of you! WOW) favorited and left me reviews. Every notification from fanfiction and Ao3, thrill me to bits! You guys are awesome! Stay Safe, Healthy and Happy my friends!

To Serve the Most Noble House of Black

This mudblood would be his mistress and he would learn to respect her. She would save his house and family from extinction. She would birth the next generation that they had been denied. He only had to save her and take her back to the beginning of the downfall of The Most Noble House of Black.

Chapter 8

The house was silent once again, as the occupants of the various paintings watched over the tableau of the young witch and the old house elf as he continued to pet back her hair, while thinking over what his dearly departed mistress had demanded of him.

The remembrance of the young mudblood's scream seemed to echo through his mind as he weighed all of what he knew of the past and how it had played out, against the very bad reality that they were currently facing.

Kreacher knew that if he were unable to keep Dumbledore and his sycophantic followers out of the manor, that they would storm it, kill off the witch and seize any secrets that had been left behind. Unless he razed the house as this witch had "asked" destroying everything and everyone in it. Or he could do what his mistress demanded, what he had been commanded to do, what he had been born to do as had every elf previously born of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black been born to do, if ever commanded.

The Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, had been the first established house of Magic. There was never a house before, no matter what the Peverell's thought. Magic had blessed the Black House first and all the others came after. The gifts that had been presented to them were wild and varied, but only one gift mattered in the end. The main branch of the family and its servants had the power to manipulate time.

There was no time turner strong enough to go back to the beginning of their reign of power, their gift did not work as such. Their line was not allowed to die out. To sever the family line of Black was to bring about chaos and anarchy. It was not about Good and Evil. It was always about the light, the grey, and the darkness of power; and the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black embodied all three. The death of the scion, Sirius Orion Black began the downfall. The deaths of Nymphadora, Bellatrix, Narcissa, Andromeda, Edward "Teddy" and finally the death of Draco sealed the fall.

The incarceration of Sirius in Azkaban and then subsequent incarceration of him in the house that he had despised, drained him of any moment of clarity in which to extradite himself from his troubles. Four aurors had visited him, in his own home which he had offered up to The Order and they could not be bothered to assist him in proving his innocence. Not even his own cousin. Members of the Wizengamot, former professors of his and those he counted as friends.

Dumbledore had, had a strong handle on his followers and when it had waivered, he had the harpy at his disposal to mitigate reasoning by ways of food, potions, and gossip. All the while, those interlopers ate the food from his table and enjoyed the hospitality of his hearth and his stash of firewhiskey, yet not one of them tried to save him. Not one of them bothered to look for another way to save themselves, then to believe in the prophecy of a scheming drunk and a machiavellian dictator talking of a child that would save them all.

Only one person had tried to save his mistress's son. Only one person had believed that it would take more than a fifteen-year-old boy, whom was improperly trained and half-starved to save them all and they had erased all of it from her most noble and intelligent mind. Now they wanted her dead. Now that she had served her purpose in ridding the world of Tom Riddle, whom had, had the misfortune of meeting Dumbledore before anyone else in the Wizarding World. She had kept the Weasley boy and the Potter scion safe, until the harpy and the want to be god had killed them and defiled the name wizard. She had tried to save as many members of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black and some that were not so noble, but everything and everyone had been against her. Had tried to stifle the knowledge that she held in her hands, her heart, and her head.

The moment passed and the portraits began whispering. Walburga questioned once again if this was the witch to entrust with the power to save her family. She thought that perhaps the Lovegood girl might have been a better option at one time, but she had been killed when the Scamander Scion had opted to not join in Albus's campaign for world domination.

She turned to Kreacher, while he still seemed to be contemplating his options.

"Kreacher, she must be cleaned up before you go back, yes she has been through a war, but it will not be something that she can explain right away. "said Walburga looking down on the young witch, with a sneer upon her lips. "Her clothes must also go. No proper witch, no matter her age should be caught in those rags."

"She has been through a war, you crazy bint" yelled one of the other Blacks who had followed to see what the main portraits were planning.

Kreacher snapped his fingers once again to reinforce the wards and called for a bowl of a water and a towel to wash the young misses face neck and hands even knowing that magic could clean the whole witch, he wanted to be a bit more gentile with the witch that would help him save his family. The water became ruddy and needed to be changed several times during the process. As he cleaned her, he tried to heal as many of her injuries that he could. The purple scar that crossed from her shoulder, across her chest to her hip was faded to a thin silver line that he wished he could erase. The rough scarred letters that his once beautiful and sane favorite young witch, before the cruelty began had placed upon their future matriarch disappeared with a whisper, when he pulled upon the family magics. He vanished the mark at her throat, as well as several others received during the battle as carefully as he could, not wanting to further pain the young witch.

He took the scars caused by the toady that forced her to write "I will respect my betters." She was a witch that would need to go. She had no business enforcing laws while she kowtowed to "Him" for it was "he" that brought the toady bitch into the school. It was not the ministry as he led everyone to believe.

He was blocking out the nosiness of his family, while trying to come up with a plan to integrate her into the new timeline, however, one thought came through from the Weasley matriarch, that might help with that.

"Kreacher," called Cedrella. "She needs to be younger; she cannot go back at this age and expect to fit in with those that can help her and need her help. I think, maybe the age of 9, that should be a good age to begin her new life. Hopefully it will allow her to have a bit of a childhood before her next war begins. It will be a good age to meet the Prince heir as well.

Kreacher knew that the Spy had been used terribly by both sides of evil and had been treated abominably by his own house heir, but truly the girl that was supposedly his best friend from childhood had not treated the boy any better and the man's interaction with the Potter scion showed how it had affected him in his later years. Although if rumors were true, the man had supposedly dedicated his life to keeping the Potter brat alive in memory of the fickle witch.

Yes, the elf thought to himself, he could introduce the fiercely loyal witch before him to the Prince heir. If he remembered correctly, he had lived in the Manchester area. He had been sent there for extra potions and assistance from the Potion's Master when he was needed to assist one of the Order of the kidnapped Phoenix's members. He knew that the Spy's childhood had not been good, but maybe the girl would facilitate his mother going to her relatives for assistance. For this to work though, she would need to appear in witches' garb and not the rags that she wore, as his mistress stated.

Waving his hand over the witch, she appeared clean and in a silk shift. Standing her in front of him, her head leaning forward as she seemed to sway on her feet, he caught the hiss of breath that the portraits behind her seemed to make as they looked at her from the back.

"What is that across her shoulders Kreacher? "His mistress shrieked.

Walking around the unsupported witch, he snapped his fingers and she lowered to the ground, kneeling in front of him so that he could see what his mistress was most concerned about.

There from her left to her right shoulders appeared to be a belt of freckles. However, these did not appear to be the extreme ones of the Prewitt and the Weasley families. Standing out there were several darker, heavier marks that appeared to resemble the system of Orion's Belt, Canis Major and the Leo constellation with Regulus highlighted.

The portraits went silent. None of the family members present, when alive or dead had ever seen such a sight, had only heard of such a miracle within the history of magic. To see this honor on a muggleborn witch was as unbelievable to their painted eyes and limited painted consciousnesses.

The sight of his family's stars, across the war-torn witch in front of him filled his old and shriveled heart with warmth and hope.

Kreacher would be the one to save them. Kreacher and this young wisp of a witch, would be the ones to bring honor back to this house. To bring power and insure the progeny of his house. The balance would return to the earth, to the enclave and to the gifts that magic had wrought. This was their destiny.