Heirs of Slytherin

So, I don't own Harry Potter...Damn.

Thanks to those who have followed, and/or reviewed.

Previously...

Jim ignored the confused wizard as he continued. "Umbitch has no experience as a teacher, nor does she pass any requirements to be a Defense teacher. Honestly, none of the Aurors were available? I'm well aware of how you're starting to become short handed with them, but fu-"

"Do shut up," Fudge growled rather pathetically. "Dolores Umbridge is perfectly qualified for the position, Mr. Steward. No Aurors were avaliable simply because it's below their pay grade-

"So Umbitch is getting paid more as a teacher than a Ministry employee, how wonderful," Jim sarcastically interupted with a mischevious smirk on his face. 'Especially given the fact that she's apart of Wizengamont and whatever the Hell it is she does for the rest of the day." His face suddenly became very serious as he leaned just inches away from Fudge. "If anything happens to my children whilst they are attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, do understand that it will be your head I come for first, Cornelius." Leaning back before standing, cold, dark blue eyes rest on Fudge. "And do understand that I only make promises, never any threats."

Without another word, Jim left the office of Cornelius Fudge.

August, 1995

"You know, my great-great or great-great-great grandfather's brother was married to a Steward," Sirius randomly said as he helped Harry clean up one of the more older rooms in Grimmauld Place. It was a room that no one, not even Kreacher, ever enter. "I can never remember which one though."

"Why don't they have your surname then?" Harry questioned.

"You would have to ask Steward," Sirius answered. "He probably knows more about my blasted family than I do." He started looking through an old, rusted trunk after he pried it open with his wand.

Inside was a bunch of old photos and letters. Sirius had never seen them before, and considering it had been locked away for decades, he had to guess that his parents and possibly grandparents didn't see any of this.

He picked up one of the letters and swore as he started reading it.

9 May, 1870

Mother,

It would appear as though you and father are now great-grandparents. Viola has given birth to a healthy boy. She and her squib husband are rather pleased, though I do believe Anton was for some bloody reason hoping for a daughter. They're calling the boy Maxim, Maxim Dmitriyev-Steward. I find it rather insulting, but amusing all the same, that a foreign squib with both a muggle and wizard name is able to pass his name on to his children, while a man such as myself cannot. No doubt it's Elizabeth's way of spitting me for suggesting that our only son, my only son out of thirteen children, at least take my surname with hers. Merlin knows that Philip needs something to differ from his sisters.

The boy is both a Steward and a Black, but then who am I to compete with a woman who descends from the line of Salazar Slytherin? Elizabeth is far more elegant than any of the Gaunt's, you would find her sufficient. A woman not fit for this time, but perfect for it all the same. She scares men beyond her years with her intellect, and I can't help but continue to love her for it. She's a Slytherin, but also a Steward, and it makes her more worthy of beholding the words of snakes and the legacy of a Hogwarts founder than even Salazar Slytherin himself.

Do give the family my love,

Maxim Philip Black

"What does it say?" Harry questioned.

Sirius didn't say anything as he looked at the photo of a young couple with a newborn in their arms. The photo held no color, and the edges were severely faded, but the small family could be made out perfectly. The young woman had dark hair and eye, she wore a simple dress that appeared to suit her perfectly. Her hair was curled, and she looked very beautiful. The young man next to the young woman was as handsome as his lady was beautiful. He too had dark hair and eyes, the color a similar shade to the young woman's, though that may be in part of the coloring of the photo, or lack of it. He had an uncharacteristically boyish grin on his face, both he and the young woman were looking at the infant in the young woman's arms. They both looked like they were looking at the best thing they had ever created. Maybe the child was.

He turned the picture around. Written on the back was the name of the young family. Anton, Viola, and Maxim Dmitriyev-Steward. The year was the same as the letter Maxim Black had sent.

It didn't take long for Sirius and Harry to tell the rest of the Order about what they found. They both were particularly relieved to see that none of the Stewards were there, seeing as they were with Dumbledore for an unknown reason.

"There's a lot of photos and letters in here," Hermione said in amazement. She was looking at an old colored photo of a family of four. A man with brown hair and eyes and scars littering his otherwise handsome face, a stunning woman with raven black hair and mesmerizing green eyes, and two children, twins by the look of it. The boy had his father's hair and eye color, while the girl had her mother's. The girl was holding a rather unsettling doll in her arms. Their names were on the back, as well as the date.

Hugo, Artemisia, Daniel, and Lorna Chandler, 1950

Hermione placed that photo down and grabbed another, a letter came along with it. It was a black and white photo of four teenagers, three boys, and one girl. They all had dark hair, but the girl's hair was the darkest in comparison to the boy's hair. They wore old fashioned clothing, the girl wore a dark dress. All three boys wore buttoned up shirts and trousers, the boy at the end, the only one with eyes that matched his hair color, wore suspenders to keep his pants from dropping. They all had leather shoes on their feet. Hermione saw their names on the back.

Erik, Artemisia, Stephen, and Arvin Steward, 1936

Hermione chose to read the letter out loud, alerting everyone in the process.

"This photo comes late," Hermione said as she started reading. "My deepest apologizes, despite knowing that this letter may never even be opened. In the two years since this photo, both Erik and Arvin have died, murdered needlessly by Gellert Grindelwald himself. Arvin went first not long after this photo was taken, mere days actually. He was only 16. Erik died just a little under a month ago, he had been 18. I have so far lost all twelve of my daughters, all eighteen of my grandchildren, and so far seven great-grandchildren. I would trade my own son's life for all twelve of my daughters, all eighteen of my grandchildren, and the seven of nine great-grandchildren. Why you must be wondering. He's joined Gellert Grindelwald, Philip has, the bloody bastard. One day, his trail of blood will end and we all can let out a sigh of relief. Until the next fool comes around at least. Alas, not today, maybe tomorrow.

"Both Erik and Arvin lasted longer than I had anticipated, and Artemisia and Stephen continue to amaze me with the fact that both still live to this day. The power all four of them could have held, if only they hadn't been attacked all those years ago. None of them ever lost control, not once. The power they hold at their fingertips, it is not surprising Grindelwald wants it, wants them, and gladly would kill them if they refuse. A part of me is glad that both Erik and Arvin are dead, so the abilities they pocessed would not of be used "for the greater good," as Grindelwald proclaims. I fear for Artemisia and Stephen though, for they still both live, and Grindelwald is stll at large. It makes me angry every time Elizabeth and I speak with Albus Dumbledore. He has the power to defeat Grindelwald, yet he does not take any steps towards it. He has also taken to ignoring our letters, often sending the Scamander boy to our door. As much as my family finds Newt endearing and brilliant, we would rather hear from Dumbledore himself on the matter of Gellert Grindelwald, rather than a man who likes magical creatures far more than he does magical people. Elizabeth knows more, for she has known Albus most of his life. She says that the situation at hand between Dumbledore and Grindelwald is complicated and that one day they both will know that an end has to come. If not today, then tomorrow, Maxim Philip Black."

Stepping inside Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, it made Jim and his children miss Ilvermorny. It was quite different from their school, far older, with far more interesting tales to tell.

"It would be best if Peter were to be sorted now as opposed to with the incoming first years," Dumbledore explained to Jim and Diana as they, along with Peter, Riley, and Rory, walked through the halls of the school Isolt Sayre dreamt of attending.

"And Riley and Rory?" Diana questioned, a frown gracing her face. "Would it not be easier to sort them now? They've already revieved their houses for Ilvermorny so that when we do return home, they won't have to endure the stares and jibes from other children."

"What makes you think that others will-

"My children have the legacy of a dead man and woman hanging over their heads, it would be impossible for them not to have a bully here and there."

Dumbledore only nods in response to the dark haired woman's blunt answer. "Unfortunately, they both will have to wait for their sorting, as will the other incoming students."

It doesn't take them long to get to Dumbledore's office. The headmaster places the Sorting Hat on Peter's head.

"My, what an interesting mind you have, Mr. Steward," Peter hears inside his head.

"Ah...thanks, I think."

The Sorting Hat chuckles. "You carry the blood of Salazar Slytherin, such a rare sight for myself. Not very Slytherin though, are you? You've got his qualities, but not his beliefs. Very intelligent, I see, but very sullen. Very loyal and kind. You strive to distance yourself from your blood, not out of ambition or a desire for power."

"Shocking, isn't it?"

The Hat laughs again at the boy's sharp tonuge. "Slytherin you are, but Slytherin you are not. Secrets you carry close, but not out for any negative purposes. You fear for your family. Fiercely determined to protect your family, you are, but you seek out peace more than you do war. You only raise your fists when you're forced to. A rarity indeed, young Slytherin, you are."

The Steward's and Dumbledore watched as Peter silently spoke with the Sorting Hat until the hat spoke out loud.

"Yes, I hope you find your answers in..."

So, what do you think? Which house should Peter Steward be in?

I know there might be some mistakes, so I apologize.

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Until next time...