What If Series: The Black Prince

by Miss Mysteria

Chapter Ten

A/N: Hey guys, just thought that I'd add this in here as some people were confused. Lorcan and Neville, at this point in the story, are seven years-old. They've just finished the Heir introductions which have to be done once the Heirs are seven so then by the time they hit seventeen and are actually adults, their magic has had ten years to accept the House magic if it had not done so already and also gets the Heirs ready for what Wizengamot sessions are like.

Keep sharing kindness and love to one another in this time where we've all got NOTHING TO DO. But I'm fine, I am. Just completely bored out of my mind. But since I'm bored out of my mind, I figure I might as well get some of these chapters out there for you guys to read.

Love ya! 💗

"So the press has taken an interest."

The latest Daily Prophet newspaper was thrown into the middle of the dining table and the ball of light that had been conjured as the last sliver of daylight went out flickered slightly when the movement made the air around it shift. In the very centre of the page was a large black and white photograph that showed Sirius, cutting a menacing figure in his Heir Black robes and sneering expression, with a strong hand on his son's shoulder weaving them through the crowd. Lorcan was smirking ever-so-slightly in a way held an all to much House Black demeanour. The title sprung up at the top in huge bold block letters read;

LORCAN BLACK: EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW

Sirius sighed into his hands, his elbows resting on the wooden table. "We always knew that they would. I just didn't expect it at this magnitude." He was sat down, slumped in one of the mahogany dining chairs opposite his grandfather. Arcturus was sat straight-backed, as per-usual, with a tumbler of whiskey in his hand, half drained. He always had preferred the muggle stuff. Sirius eyed him through one of the gaps between his fingers as he took a long drink, "I suspect you knew that it would be like this."

Arcturus would have shrugged if he was not the man he was. He twirled the glass in a minute gesture and they sat in silence until he deigned to speak.

"I suppose I had an inkling, yes."

"And you didn't think to share with the class?"

His glare caught Sirius off-guard and the Black Heir lifted his hands up in surrender and leaned back into the uncomfortable chair. "I apologise."

"You do not."

"No, I do not." he agreed and sighed heavily once again. It had been a long day; the build up of stress and nerves, the Wizengamot Heir introductions, the announcements of the Alliances, bartering with Lord Nott and Dumbledore, watching Lorcan make friends (he hoped he'd made friends), and then walking out of the lift and into the eye of the storm. Rather like a small fishing boat that had sensed some rocking among the waves and should have known better, should have turned back. But didn't and was swept up and forced into the frantic, hectic world of political and media warfare. If he wasn't careful he would drown, he knew that.

His hands rubbed his face furiously as his eyes burned with tiredness. He was sure that they were bloodshot, having stayed awake too long, having stretched himself too thin. But this was not the first, nor would it be the last of the late nights that he would have to pull in order to keep everything afloat and okay. He could handle this, he could, Sirius knew that he could. If you can duel three Death Eaters at once and get away unscathed you can surely control some measly journalists and the public information.

But Merlin did he wish Remus was here. His partner had waited until he, Arcturus and Lorcan had gotten back to the Manor and had made sure everything had gone as smoothly as it could have before giving all of them, bar Arcturus, a kiss and hug and taking an international portkey to Bulgaria, where he was working as an International Translator for the British and Bulgarian Ministers. He would be gone for a week and a half, if not longer.

Remus, like his granfather-in-law, was practically a savant at everything and anything he put his mind to. In two weeks he had read all of the Black Library's books on the Wizengamot and had begun to teach Sirius in a way that Arcturus could not about what he would need to do for his own introduction to the Wizengamot and then Lorcan's introduction. In a month he had taught himself rudimentary Spanish well enough to be able to converse with a business associate of the Head of the Department of Magical Transportation, who had requested the highly recommended Translator.

And because of this unwavering ability to master anything he put his mind to Remus was probably the best person to talk to about this.

Sure, Arcturus was the overlord of manipulating the public into believing a tale that had been spun out of nothing, the sovereign leader of making grand speeches and gestures to put the light on something just as shiny and new to make the magpies-turned-journalists rush towards it, practically salivating at the mouth and ignore the matter at hand.

But Remus; Remus would make it believable to even the most notorious cynics such as Albus Dumbledore or the old pureblood crowd. He would batt his eyelashes and run some sob story that he had researched and learnt down to a tee about how Lorcan was shy, or how he preferred to not be talked about because he felt like he was taking away from the more important issues, or how Prongs definitely wasn't breaking into the broom cupboard this very second, Madam Hooch, no, he was helping a third year with their Transfiguration homework, like the good sixth year he was, or how Sirius couldn't have possibly snuck into the Slytherin Common Room and painted the walls red, Professor, he was with me helping Peter fix his twisted ankle. You see, he had been pushed down the stairs- what? Oh no, it doesn't really matter who by- no, really Professor, I'd rather not get anyone into any trouble...

Remus would be a big help, a perfect solution. But Remus wasn't here. And Sirius was trying not to think of the golden amber glow of Remus' eyes as Moony desperately pushed and attempted to come out and rip a certain blonde-haired, red-lipped, Quick-Quotes Quill using, Daily Prophet journalist to shreds as he read the newspaper wherever he was in Bulgaria. He shook his head and the image of Moony, half transformed and standing over Rita Skeeter's screeching body dissipated into nothing.

Sirius looked up from where his grey eyes had been boring into the table to find Arcturus' gaze already on him. His glass was on the table, empty, and his fingers were steepled together as he rested his aged chin on the top of them. The paper and table that laid between them acted like some sort of barrier and prevented Sirius from pushing himself out of his chair and throwing himself at his grandfather, demanding why he hadn't warned him when he had already known what sort of drama this would cause.

Arcturus' eyebrows lifted marginally before falling back into place. Sirius watched as he wafted a hand over his glass and the tumbler multiplied into two. An orange-brown liquid began to fill up from the bottom of the glasses out of thin air and when it reached the halfway point, Arcturus nudged the one closest to Sirius in his direction, simultaneously taking the one he had been drinking from before for himself. Sirius picked up the glass and wrapped both hands around it, feeling the coolness and letting it envelope him before taking a sip. He grimaced and put it down straight away; he much preferred Firewhiskey to the muggle version. Arcturus didn't notice, too concerned with his own glass to think about Sirius'.

The silence again fell over them like a blanket. It wasn't awkward but it wasn't comforting either. Sirius did not want to break it in fear of shattering any idea or plot that was forming in his grandfathers mind. Eventually it was Arcturus who spoke into the eery echo of the empty dining room.

"I am...surprised at the consternation that the attention Lorcan has received has given you. I rather thought that you would be aware of his impact on society."

He spoke the words in a slow monotone, giving away his own fatigue and perhaps his unwillingness to anger Sirius. Sirius let his shoulders sag and leaned his forearms on the table, gently pushing the glass of whiskey away from the edge so that he could rest his arms there instead. "I understand the impact and the persuasion that Ancient Houses have on the public and on the Wizengamot. I get that it is an unknowable big deal that Lorcan has both the Potter and Black bloodlines and will be Lord Black-Potter at some point in his life. What I wasn't expecting was to have to fight my way out of the Ministry Atrium because a shitload of journalists and random people wanted a picture of my son."

"Sirius." Sirius looked up and met his grandfathers eyes, "I understand why you are upset. The protectiveness over Lorcan is something that all of us in this family share. But throughout his life as Lorcan Black, just as it would have been if he were still Harry Potter, he will be shrouded in the spotlight."

Sirius sighed and dropped his forehead down onto his arms. "I just wanted him to have a normal childhood."

"And he has. He has spent seven years in a calm and tranquil environment, surrounded by safety and allies. It is time, just as it was for us when we were his age, for him to step up and take his place as Heir Potter and a child of House Black in this world."

"Seven years is not a childhood, grandfather. Merlin," Sirius suddenly stood from his seat, his chair making a screech as it protested against being scraped across the floor. Other than allowing his eyes to follow the movement, Arcturus didn't move a muscle. Sirius began to pace up and down, walking to the end of the table and back to his seat before repeating it, gesturing the whole time, "A childhood, not that I would know, is playing with toys and hanging out with friends and riding brooms and being able to walk up and down Diagon or Hogsmeade or Appleby Market without being hounded by press! Without having to look over your shoulder every second because you feel like you're being watched. A childhood isn't seven fucking years. A childhood is from," Sirius stopped in front of his grandfather, the table still as a barrier between them, and held his hands apart from one another. He gestured heavily with one, "when you are born to," he moved the other wildly, attracting Arcturus' attention to it, "when you graduate Hogwarts, or Beauxbatons, or Ilvermorny or wherever you go to school. A childhood, a safe childhood, is one that lasts until you need your guardian. No one, not one child in this whole shitting world, muggle, halfblood, pureblood or creature, should have to stop living a carefree youth just because some journalists and nosy ass people cannot keep their noses out of business that isn't their own!" He stopped just as suddenly as he had stood from his chair. His heavy breathing almost echoed in the silence of the room. He ran his hands through his hair tiredly and sighed strongly. He leaned froward and rested his forearms onto the back of the chair. He let the top of his head fall into his hands. "I had to go through that. I had to watch as my name, my brothers name, my cousins names, my parents and grandparents and aunts names were plastered all over magazines left and right. I had to watch and could do nothing as titles were printed like 'Black Sheep of the Black Family' and 'Black Defects from Heinous Family' and 'Bloodtraiter Black Befriends Potter Heir' and 'Black's: As Dark as Their Name?'. I didn't want that for him." He flickered his fingers towards the newspaper, "but it's already started. And there is nothing I can do to make it go away. I cant control the media or the public-"

"Why not?"

A new voice seemed to vibrate through the room. Sirius' head snapped up so violently he almost got whiplash and he saw Arcturus not even bother to turn his head from where it had bowed out of the corner of his eye. Stood under the large open archway that allowed entrance into the dining room from the drawing room next door was Melania in a deep purple nightgown and slippers with her hand holding tight onto Lorcan's. His son was staring wide-eyed at him and was dressed in his pyjamas of dark green trousers and a long-sleeve shirt with little beater bats vibrating on them gently.

Sirius sighed, grey eyes locking onto green. He allowed a small smile to come on his face and he stood straight and shoved his hands into the pockets of his smart trousers. "You're supposed to be in bed."

Lorcan shrugged. He didn't let go of Melania's hand. "You're not exactly quiet, Padfoot."

"No, indeed he is not, child." Melania said and though her voice was light as she pulled him into the room, her eyes were dripping with disapproval and Sirius shied away from them and instead his eyes found his grandfather, who was still staring at the table and frowning. His grandmother had pushed Lorcan into the seat next to his grandfather and had placed herself at the end of the table. Sirius didn't appreciate the feeling that he was by himself, although as he watched Lorcan absentmindedly place his smaller hand over his grandfathers where it was rested on the table, he thought that perhaps it was what the man needed. "He gets it from his mother."

Sirius flinched and sent the the woman a glare and wasn't surprised when he was met with just as fierce a stare back. "Sit down, Sirius. You are not some parliamentary politician bullying the House of Commons."

"I think you'll find I am." he murmured, but he sat down either way. He did not want to be met with a stinging hex that he knew she was very accomplished in, as well as many other more permanent curses. The woman may have been a Hufflepuff, but there was no doubt she was vicious when she wanted or needed to be.

Melania folded her hands together and rested them upon the table. She stared out at the three Black men sat at the table with her. Lorcan was the only one who was making eye contact and he knew that she was secretly pleased, Sirius knew that if he looked he would be able to see a curl at the corner of her mouth.

Hufflepuff his arse.

"Now, Sirius," she started, "tell me why you cannot control the media and public."

"Because you can't. They have their own minds and they run themselves. Sure, we could buy shares but papers like the Daily Prophet are Ministry run, so nothing can change what they write."

Melania hummed through her closed mouth. "True. But with the publications of certain articles and titles comes with the public interest. If there was no interest in dear Lorcan," she spared the boy a glance as he yawned and leaned into the hand that Arcturus had placed on top of his head. The man was looking at his wife as though he already knew where she was going. Apparently she had caught his attention, "then there would be no news about him, are we in agreement?"

Sirius nodded reluctantly, not seeing the point of this.

"But if we were to say...I don't know, create some other news much more intriguing for the public than Lorcan's and our own lives than there would be no news about us and we would no longer be as much in public eye."

Lorcan cleared his throat and Sirius turned to him. He looked a bit nervous and Sirius thought it might be because this was the first time he was involved in one of their plotting sessions. "What news would be that interesting, Mimi? They...um, well, they seem to like talking about me."

His hackles raised as he saw how uncomfortable his son looked with his name being in massive letters on newspapers and media outlets across Europe. Sirius saw Arcturus press his hand further down into the black curls of Lorcan's head and the boy sunk into it. Sirius sent his grandfather a grateful look but the man didn't catch it as he was staring at the ceiling with a pensive expression.

"That is what we have to figure out," Melania said and her eyes glued onto her husband, picking up the fact like Sirius had that he was clearly forming a plan in his mind, "And it cannot be donations, speeches or gesture like such as that would be news for only a few days. We are in need of something that will last for longer than that. Perhaps a month and then by then hopefully there would be other articles that would need to be printed."

Arcturus let out a long sigh and removed his hand from Lorcan's head as he brought them together on the table. His eyes met Sirius' across the table, "When you and Remus went to Gringotts two years ago with Lorcan to retrieve his Potter Heir ring, claim the Potter seat in his name and learn of his Vaults, you came back and informed me of a Vault that should not have been there, but was."

A lightbulb went off in Sirius' mind. "The Slytherin Vault." he whispered.

Nodding, Arcturus continued, "You said that the Vault was able to be Lorcan's through right of Conquest. Only once has Lorcan been in a magical duel of any kind."

Melania's gasp drew their attention, "The Dark Lord. That night you came to us."

"Yes. One man has only ever been in a fight with our Lorcan, and one man has only ever recently claimed to be Heir of Slytherin. You also said that the Goblins informed you that his name was Lord Riddle, but that he never came to Gringotts to claim the title of Slytherin. Since that day two years ago I have researched the name 'Riddle' and recently, in the last few weeks, came up with only one man who it could refer to. Tom Riddle. He was a halfblood, born in the late nineteen-twenties to a near squib of a woman, a Gaunt, and a muggle man. A muggle man who, according to one of the matrons of the Orphanage where he was placed as a child, either did not know of him or wanted nothing to do with him. That muggle man and his parents were murdered several years ago and Morfin Gaunt was arrested and tried for it. He died in Azkaban. I think we can all agree that it was unlikely to be Morfin Gaunt who killed those muggles. The Gaunt Heir ring was forcibly taken from Morfin's hand-"

"How do you take someone's ring?" Lorcan asked, his voice almost in a whisper. Arcturus started as though he had forgotten that his great-grandson was there. He placed an arm on the back of his chair in a way that might've been in comfort.

"Morfin was found laughing madly with a finger missing from his hand. I suspect that Tom Riddle, finding out about his Gaunt heritage, went to the Gaunt shack in Little Hangleton and ran into Morfin Gaunt who must have mentioned the muggle man that his sister, Merope Gaunt, married and was impregnated by. In his no doubt outrage that he was a halfblood, or the fact perhaps that his father never looked for him, he went to the Riddle's home pointed to perhaps by Morfin, and then killed his father and grandparents. He went back to the Gaunt Shack to manipulate Morfin, who due to his many stints in Azkaban for muggle assault and not appointing to the Statue of Secrecy was insane, into thinking that he had killed the muggles for which he already had a hatred for. He must have called somehow for the Aurors but not before slicing Morfin's finger off which held the Gaunt Heir ring and taking it with him as there are reports of Tom Riddle returning to Hogwarts with a Gaunt ring, proclaiming him the Heir and to everyone who saw it that he was of noble blood."

The silence that followed was deafening until Sirius spoke into it. "If we released that information to the public..."

Arcturus inclined his head, "It would place the Dark Lord's reputation in ruins due to his entire mantra being of reintroducing the old ways and having purebloods above the rest."

"It would also take every single eye off of Lorcan." Melania added and the men around the table nodded in agreement, including Lorcan who looked as white as a sheet. Sirius noticed this quickly and stood from his seat.

He gestured towards his grandfather as he rounded the table towards his son's chair, "Wait until later today after we have gotten some rest and we will go over it, grandfather?"

His grandfather nodded, "I will collect the information I have surrounding Tom Riddle into a file so that it can be easily duplicated and sent to several media platforms at once."

Sirius smiled lightly at him in acknowledgment, and bade them goodnight, tugging his exhausted son by the hand and out of the room.

By the time they reached Lorcan's bedroom in the West Wing of Black Manor, Lorcan was dragging his feet, proclaiming that he wasn't tired and that he wanted to go back downstairs with his grandfather and Mimi. Sirius rolled his eyes as he tucked his hands under his armpits and lifted him up and onto the bed. He watched as Lorcan groaned but lifted the quilts of his double bed up and moved himself under them before moaning deeply into one of the pillows. Lorcan turned over onto his back and smiled tiredly up at his dad.

"Do you..do you think its gonna make big news? The whole 'Tom Riddle' thing?" Lorcan asked, slurring his words ever-so-slightly but not enough that it was incomprehensible.

Sirius nodded, turning the question over in his mind, "I think that it will cause a massive ripple effect over Britain. We don't know what or how the public will react but as long as it takes the light off of you, I'm not really sure I care."

It turns out that Sirius was rather wrong in that respect. It didn't just cause a ripple effect in Magical Britain. It caused monstrous outcries and fury throughout the Magical World. There were papers left-right-and-centre about how the 'Dark Wizard Voldemort' fought to create laws and started a war against his 'own kind' in France, Germany, America, Australia, Africa, South Africa...really anywhere with a magical community that wasn't remote enough to not receive news. It was shocking to Sirius, more so at the fact that Voldemort's reign had barely touched France and Australia, the man hadn't dared to go near Germany after the increase in their defences after Grindelwald, he had just slightly been reaching out to Dark Creatures in Africa, but nothing solid. He suspected it was only big news because 1) blood ideologies were still big in most European countries, even if they weren't derogatory it was still there and 2) because the news that a one year-old had defeated a fully grown Dark Wizard had spread far and wide. And the news that said one year-old had then been kidnapped was also massive news.

Sirius, having been into the Ministry and in Diagon Alley at least twice since the news had broken had already seen signs of the purebloods who had followed Voldemort looking squeamish and nervous and practically as though they were about to be sick. Yes, Lord Voldemort had had great magical prowess and charisma and abilities and yes he was still Slytherin's Heir, but to those who actually believed in the idea that purebloods were over everyone else the idea that they had kissed the robe and feet of a halfblood with barely a witch for a mother had not sat well with them at all.

Lorcan, of course was delighted with the fact that the news no longer was printing images of him and articles 'all about Lorcan Black' and if Neville or Augusta had noticed his more upbeat smiles or laughs, they had not said anything. In fact, all five in the Black family, including Remus who had sent a letter proclaiming them 'geniuses' from Bulgaria (where the news was going mad also), were abundantly pleased with the way the news of the halfblood Dark Lord had been received, and with the fact that the files on Tom Riddle had ended up on journalists desks anonymously without anyone seeing who put them there, no one, absolutely no one would ever suspect the Black family of doing so.

But somewhere in the deep, dark depths of a forest in Albania, a scream like no other was heard by no one and the magical relay from that scream wiped out several trees that stood in the forest. The owner of that scream vowed revenge on whoever it was that revealed his name, and smiled viciously as a plan began to form in his head.