Hello and happy holidays everyone!
Beta: None, I took so much time writing it that getting it beta just now would be a crime.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Sorry for the long wait, I hope this chapter will make up a bit for it. Also the first chapter has been rewritten. Nothing too important was change but more detailed description were added so…
Thanks to all the reviewers: Flightless Bird; DarkRavie; itachisgurl93; Emphy; NoturHeroNeMore; XxTaintedxDaggerxX; Hortensia; sweetmiracle; notyou; sleepingdragon504; bleacher; jumping-jo; Lord Jeram ; Midoriryu; Anonymous; Ceti H. Black; fhippogriff.
And thanks to all the readers who are following me or/and this story. :)
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Chapter 5: Scheming
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Dumbledore pinched the bridge of his nose as he folded the missive he had just received from one Andromeda Tonks née Black.
He had rarely felt his age. His joyful disposition lead him away from the burden of age. But, today, Dumbledore dearly felt all the weight of his 112 years. There had been so much lies and manipulation over the years. Grindelwald, his sister, the Potters to name a few.
He had tried to convince himself it was for the greater good. – a phrase he had adopted from his late lover. And really it was!
He had done great things in advancing the egalitarianism movement like accepting werewolf, half giants and dark creatures alike at Hogwarts – of course, not a word had come to the ear of the public as to not create a wave of panic – or instituting muggle study, or founding the research for the lycantropy cure... He even managed to get the Veela off of the creature list after a lyrical speech in front of International Convention of Wizard – one of his proudest moment.
Every wizards and witches, adults and children alike knew his name. He even had his very own Chocolate frog card – he kept a frame copy of the very first frog card sporting his name just next to his Barnabus Finkley award.
But to achieve this greatness, it had cost so many great wizards and witches: Kyneburg Dodge, James Potter, Lilly Potter, Fabian Prewett and his twin Gideon, Mildred Mayfield... and destroyed so many lives: Frank and Alice Longbottom and their little Neville, Elliana Moon, Sirius Black... all had fallen victims to his short comings.
And he was not sure if it was really worth it...
"Sirius Black." He mouthed, regrets clouding his blue eyes as he stirred his tea.
He had damaged the man way more than Voldemort himself had: Taking away his life and family, treating him like a traitor to be cursed and hated, condemned to insanity in the dark cold prison of Azkaban tortured by those creatures.
While, in reality, he had never betrayed! He had stayed true to his friends, to beliefs which had never really been his own. Dumbledore knew that, despite his friendship with the light family of Potter – they had been a surrogate family to the lost teen after his family had cruelly turned their back on him –, Sirius still held a dark side to him. As silent as he kept it, Dumbledore had seen the signs. Sirius could not lie about his dark nature: the pranks, the jibes, the bullying... if it had not been for the Potters and his sorting in Gryffindor, Dumbledore would have had the then Black heir expelled as soon as third year for his bullying way.
But, Dumbledore knew, all this could not erase his lack of faith in the man which had cost Sirius so dearly. And it seemed that Dumbledore's sin did not stop to depraving an innocent man of his honour and his freedom to his greatest shame. After destroying the man's life and tearing him away from his precious Godson, was he also guilty of keeping the man away from a son?
Dumbledore squeezed his eyes shot.
A part of him could not stop but wondered if that child had been abused at the hand of his grandmother, like Harry had at the hand of his own relatives. What kind of hardship Walburga Black could have put the poor soul through?
He had known Walburga as a student and, later on, as a mother. She had been vicious, vindictive, unforgiving and controlling. No one was safe from Walburga Violetta Black's wrath. And her family less than other. He had seen the way she had treated people she thought had wronged her. He had heard the rumours about the vicious howler she had sent to Sirius after his sorting. It was rivalled only by the current Mrs Weasley's one if one believed the grapevine.
The boy, Sirius' boy, had been raised by the most hateful woman Dumbledore had had the dubious pleasure to met. And, what was worst, without outside input to temper the vile tongue of the Black matriarch. What hope was there for Sirius to be accepted by his son?
The answer was there was NONE!
Dumbledore raised from his seating position, taking swift steps toward the door, he grabbed his stars stubbed overcoat as he flew down the flight of stairs leading to the corridor of the school.
He needed to speak with that Black heir if only to see if, like his father, the boy could be saved from the hatred the late lady Black had surely instilled in the poor boy's heart.
WM: Scheming
Narcissa stood in front of her vanity carefully applying her beauty cream before adding her home-made foundation – no foundation in the commerce match her delicate completion: most of them being a shade too dark making her look like she had been on the wrong end of a tanning curse, the other making her look paler than a ghost.
She had, for a time, envisioned of making her own cosmetic line. She certainly had the knowledge with her NEWST in herbology and potion. But she never had the personal founding for that venture, not that her darling Lucius would not provide her with whatever money she needed to start her business if asked; after all whatever was his was hers.
But she would not endure to be the target of her fellows gossipers. Being a pampered wife was one thing but she would never be the whimsical wife whose husband was careless enough to found her folly.
No, she would be a self-made woman who gathered the admiration of all her socialists of friends. And for that, she needed the money from the Black! And she needed it NOW. She had waited long enough for her stupid aunt's death to be spoiled by some bastard coming out of nowhere.
She cursed once again her cousin's libertine life style.
'Maudis soit les Gryffindor! (1)' She muttered in French as she carefully curled her hair around her brush.
She could not believe her aunt: Accepting the illegitimate son of her shameless traitor of a son in the most ancient house of Black. What more she gave the bastard the title of heir of the Black! Preposterous, that title belonged to her son!
Her darling Draco possessed all the qualities of the good breeding he was born in: He was refine, knowledgeable and knew exactly his worth: the perfect heir to the Malfoy name and de facto the perfect heir for the Black.
No cockroaches coming out of nowhere would take what was hers by right.
Narcissa threw angrily the peach tone lipstick she had been applying on her beauty vanity.
She needed to calm down. She was a Malfoy! Well above all those pitiful fools who wanted to judge her. They were nothing! She had everything: riches beyond dreams, power above even the first lady – the stork Madam Fudge was a bubbling fool not unlike her husband – and one of the most sough after status!
And soon she would be even richer with the power and title of the Regent of the Black.
'People will bow at me. They will cowered in front of the magnificent of the Malfoy family.' She thought as she spied in the mirror for a glimpse of her beloved husband.
WM: scheming
Bellatrix Lestrange let out a full blown laugh straining her neck, opening her mouth wide, sending her wild hair flying around her face as the guards drug her out of the court room number 6.
This trial, like the previous one, had been a joke!
No one had breached the only important matter in the trial – not even their barrister despite her insistence he did so –: The danger of inter-breeding with sub-species such as Mud-blood. Those vermin were aberration, mistakes of nature that should be exterminated on sight. Their impure blood and magic should not be allowed to mingle with pure magical being like her. They were like flies festering on an open wound.
Could they not see that they were destroying their world, their magic?!
She remembered her once strong and independent sister: Andromeda Black. A woman she had once considered her greatest rival and, dare she concede, even to herself, admired; had been turned into a useless housewife burdened by a Hufflepuff daughter – A Hufflepuff?! In the Black family?! What an infamy! –, because one of those vermin had ensnared her, destroying her pride and stomping over the tradition that had bred her to this world!
How could they not see what she and her Lord had so clearly seen?!
She turned her wild gaze to her husband. The man who was so meek and docile in her and her Lord's presence, was fighting against the chains, clicking his jaw at the guards as if trying to behead them with his teeth.
She took a deep breath smelling her husband's rage and desperation filling the hallway as he was taken into an other room screaming and rambling.
She would make them see!
She stopped her struggle against her chains and let the guards drag her down the stairs waiting patiently as they reached the bottom of the stairs. Taking an other deep breath, she gently, slowly, passed her tongue over her upper lip like savouring an imaginary taste. From the cornered of her eyes, she saw a slight movement of the youngest guard's shoulders.
There! She struck!
As quick as the snake she was, she took a firm grasp on the chains, tearing it out of the guards grips, sending them flying around the strait. One of the guard fell, struck in the face by the heavy chains which cracked his head opened sending blood flying across Bella's face. The other was fumbling with his wand, trying to fire a curse at her as she laugh in delight tasting the blood on her lips.
Bellatrix smiled a cruel smile. They both knew he had lost his momentum!
As she ran forward, her heels clicking in a rapid tempo in the empty hallway. Using her chains as weapons, she struck the man in the chest. He tumbled back, losing his balanced. She jumped on him, taking a firm hold on one of her chain, she strangled him. She stared at him with her wide wild eyes, a small demented smile deforming her lips as she watched him struggling for his breath, his eyes widened with fear. She could feel him clawing desperately at her arms tearing the skin opened. But she barely felt any pain, as she watched, like under a spell, the life slowly escaping the wide mucky green eyes of the guard. She tightened her grip as her smile widen into a full blown grin. A sickening crack echoed in the hallway like music to her ears.
She laughed – a melodic high pitched laugh of delight – as she released her grip on the chain, watching in rapture as the body crumbled forward at her feet.
How she had missed the thrill of taking someone else life! Watching the complete horror deformed their traits as they understood they were going to die, the light slowly extinguished from their eyes knowing that the last image they would take to the underworld would be her terrifying expression of delight!
She closed her eyes, savouring the moment.
After a few seconds, she bent down taping the guard's corpse for the key of her chains. It took her a few second to discovered them hidden into a small pocket inside his robes.
Without her chains, she could feel her magic flowing freely back into her body. The feeling was exhilarating. She felt light headed. She touched her face feeling the magic simmering just under her skin and smiled.
Sweet sweet magic, she would protect it! Never again would she allowed it to be part from her.
She snatched the wand lying uselessly a few inches away from its owner's corpse. She twirled it between her fingers not really liking the feel of it. The wood was coarse in between her fingers and her magic overflowing the dragon heart string core, it felt like it would give out under her power any moment. She shuddered at the docile feel the wand emitted. It was nothing of her own impetuous, strong wand.
How she longed to have it back in her hands!
She had caught a glimpse of it at the trial. The prosecuting barrister even had the audacity to put his greasy pudgy fingers around the handle of her precious wand in order to demonstrate, like some cheap trick muggle magician, how, in his "humble" opinion, she had used her beloved wand to torture the Longbottom into insanity. Her face had turned into a rictus of disgusts as her eyes landed on the bunch of fools who dared tried to judge her, drinking every non-sense the ignoramus barristers was spurting.
Had none of them ever cast a Cruciatus curse in their life?!
That dimwitted idiot did not even know the correct wand movement!
Bella swallowed her anger. At least, those imbeciles had the presence of mind not to destroying her precious wand. It would have really pained her to have to replace her faithful twelve and three quarters walnut wand.
She wondered briefly why they had not broken it: she had been convicted of horrendous "crimes"! "Crimes" she had proudly claimed as her handy work. She had not even bothered to hide her wand trail!
Her masterpiece had been the Longbottom, of course. Their screams had been music to her ears, especially the wife sobbing as she made her watch her Rodolphus torture her husband into insanity. The high pitched screams, the flood of tears, the begging, all of it had been engraved in her memory and she had loved to replay those scenes in her minds over and over again in the dark corner of her cell. She had taunted the Azkaban guards detailing her cruellest actions to them, making sure not to miss the smallest details in her descriptions. And she knew that, just like her, they enjoyed it.
Shaking her head, she threw the wand in the air, deftly catching it in her right hand.
"Avada Kedavra!" She spoke in a joyful ton the phrase she loved so much.
She grinned happily seeing the green light striking the still unconscious second guard.
WM: scheming
Sirius let himself fall on his bed.
This was not happening. This was a dream! A bad dream! A nightmare!
"I have a son..." He said to himself eyes wide.
He could not really deny it, he realized as the boy had his curly hair, his jaw bones and even his voice sounded somewhat like his.
"I have a SON. I HAVE A SON!" He claimed.
Sirius jumped on his feet. How did THAT happened? And with Persephone?
"Do you need a rendition of the bee and honey talk, padfoot?" A voice sounding strangely like James' taunted him.
No, no, no. It could not be possible! It just could not be possible. It must have been a mistake. He only had one night with Persephone.
"Denial is not just a river in Egypt." The voice answered to his thought.
Sirius remembered when he had first heard the voice talking to him in Azkaban, he had really thought he had lost it. And, really, it had not mattered much. He had thought at the time that he would finally find release in madness.
But it had not been the case, the voice had kept him thriving. He could not die in this hell! He had to live, live for Harry, for James, for Lilly. He who was alive, could not let himself die such a pitiful death.
After a few days, the voice muttering to him became a full blown hallucination complete with two legs, two arms, hair and eyes... and a mouth... a fucking mouth that would not shut up.
"Leave me alone! I'm trying to make sense of things here, Prongs." Sirius answered looking up at James.
James was standing there not a few feet away from him leaning nonchalantly against the mahogany library, his hazel eye sparkling with mischief and a playful smirk hanging on his feature.
"I would have known if I had a son, Prongs!" Sirius argued.
"Really? I bet you don't even remember that night you had with Persephone. How many mini-Padfoots are running havoc around in the wide world?" James taunted letting out a small laugh at his friend's expense.
"Nope, he is not mine. I would have known Prongs. I would! And you know I took those infertility potion too." Sirius argued.
He remembered how he had convinced Lily to brew him a temporary infertility potion, just for his peace of mind. No, he had not wanted mini-padfoot – as Prongs so eloquently put it – and angry ex-lovers coming after his hide.
Lily had not wanted to at first, she thought it would be more "detrimental" to him, that he needed to learn responsibility and blahblahblah...
Sirius had not really paid attention to whatever non-sense the red-head had been sprouting. He had just gone on his knees and made his infamous puppy eyes. It had never failed him before and it had of course not failed him this time either.
"Then who? Regulus?" James interrupted Sirius' thought while pushing his body away from the library.
"Regulus?! He would have never done anything that could have bring shame to "the great, noble house of Black". He certainly would not have had a child outside of wedlock." Sirius ranted. "He would not even had sex outside of wedlock. Poor bloke!"
"Your mother would not have taken in a child that would not have been a Black by blood. And you have to admit that this child have a lot of Black in him." James remarked.
"A Black by blood. A Black by blood." Sirius repeated, swigging back and forth in his chair. "The Black's blood... Black blood... She needed him to have Black blood in order to take him in..."
Sirius closed him eyes trying to remember something. There was something about the Black blood in the library... a book... a book on rituals...
Sirius suddenly rose up overthrowing his chair in the process. He marched to his mother's room determined to get the truth out of his mother's portray.
"What have you done exactly, old hag? Whose son did you steal?" He barked throwing the door opened.
He watched as his mother stiffened in her portrait, her jaw tightening and a hard look in her eyes.
So his mother wanting to play to the guessing game?
Then so be it! He was more than ready. He remembered her lesson in people-reading well enough and he knew her fairly well.
"Was it Remus?" Sirius questioned. "No, it could not have been Remus'. He is a lycanthrope … you would not have wanted the stain of his curse carrying in the family..."
Sirius looked at his mother expectantly.
There!
He knew that expression! His answer had been too close to the truth for his mother's comfort and her left eyebrow had caved down for a split of a second barely enough time for anyone catch. But Sirius was an expert at reading his mother and even after all those years, she still was the same.
He needed to keep his mind on his game.
Whose child could it be?
Sirius tried to remember whose family were expecting a child around the time his so called son had supposedly been born. The boy had dark hair so that ruled out the Weasley. He was rather thin that ruled out the Longbottom. His eyes were green... green like...
Sirius frowned. He knew someone with eyes just as green as those, like two brilliant emeralds sparkling with life...
"Lily!" He exclaimed.
Those were Lily's eyes!
He kept his eyes on his mother looking for the sign and as he had predicted to himself, she pinched her lips in a thin line as if she was trying to keep the answer from coming out.
"It's him! It's Harry!" Sirius danced with joy. "It's my Harry!"
"His name is not Harry!" Walburga yelled. "He is my Antarès! My perfect heir! You better remember that if you don't want them to take him away from you!"
Sirius stopped his dance looking wide eyed at his mother.
"Take him away from me? They can't do that. He is my Godson. Mine! I promised James I would take care of him…"
"Why would they left the "saviour of the Wizard's world", "the boy who lived" in the hands of an unstable ex-convict (1)?" Walburga sneered.
"No!" Sirius wailed."No, they won't take him. They can't! I won't let them!"
And Sirius began to plan. He needed to protect Harry. Harry... James' son... his Godson... and now his son by blood.
Sirius let out a full blown laughter.
He shared a son with James!
It was a "dream" come true.
WM: scheming
Getting out of the building had been far easier than she had first envisioned. Of course, she knew the ministry building like the back of her hand for her Lord and she had planned together the grand attack that would have signified the Dark victory over the weaklings of the ministry.
But one would have thought that after Rosier and Wilkes – among others – who were both part of the auror corps and thus had access to the security details and blue prints of every public building in magical Britain, were proven to be Death-eaters, the ministry would have reinforced its security. But it was not the case.
Thu, the only resistance she encountered was the one gaoler she knew would be rounding the corridors every half hour. It had taken her a second to overtake the man, and soon he was at her beck and call. She had sent the disgustingly weak-minded turnkey to free her husband. She trusted that Rodolphus could take care of the rest.
She just had to set up a little diversion. Walking down the basement of the ministry, she had opened every detention cells she passed by. These pathetic wine-bags and petty thieves the ministry kept in its gaol, had cowered at the sight of her splendour and, for a second, she had relinquished in the feeling of the fear she had inspired. One or two had even urinated themselves to her greatest satisfaction.
The only problem had been that most of those cowards would not move out of their cells and she had had to kick them out of their cells quite literally. But once out, they ran like the vermin they were, screaming, tripping as if their life depended on it – and, in some way, it did.
She had taken a moment to enjoy the chaos she had created before calmly walking down to a seemingly dead-end corridor. She had walked up to the wall feeling the magic running inside it. She had considered simply blasting it. It was not a retaining wall and thus destroying it would not damage the building too much. But while she would have enjoyed the destruction, she did not want to live a trail – like her Lord had planned.
Let them believe she disappeared in thin air!
She had let her hand slide on the brick feeling them one by one pinpointing the oddness in the pattern of the magic. She had taken a step back and tapped seemingly random bricks in a sequence. It had taken several attempts but she had managed to find the correct combination and the brick wall had opened into the sewer of the city of London.
And there she was, in the middle of a busy street, two streets down the ministry building, surrounded by those pitiful magic-less creatures who were walking around oblivious of her. She snarled as one of them bumped into her like she did not exist, turning around to glare at her like she was insignificant.
She gritted her teeth, her face morphing in an ugly grimace.
Now was not the time to kill those waste of space muggles who dared imagine themselves to be more than her who had been blessed with magic.
Now she needed to find a place to stay.
Narcissa's was out of question, she would end up killing that miserable traitor she had taken as husband. The snivelling conniving bastard who had denied her Lord.
Maybe she could make a visit to her dear sister Andromeda, she would certainly love to play with her mud-blood husband… For a moment, she lost herself to the daydream of what she would make her sister's husband do before killing him.
Or maybe, her eyes widened in realisation, maybe her aunt's… a crusader of pure-blood superiority like her would surely not refuse to help a like minded Black like her.
And in a crack, Bellatrix was gone.
WM: scheming
Harry was reading a book on the old ways and customs of Noble magical families. The book had appeared out of nowhere on his desk, opened on the chapter concerning inheritance dispute and tutelage.
It was not the first time something like that happened and it would certainly not be the last. The Black library had a wealth of knowledge ranking in the most obscure kinds of magic and he would not be surprised if one of those books contained the enchantment which had been waved on the library which would cater to the Black heirs and lords' specific needs.
Harry was no fool, he knew that his blond aunt would do anything in her power to get her hands on the Black fortune. The portrait of his esteemed many time great grand father Phineas Nigellus Black – who insisted that he be called by his whole name as to not be confused with his worthless son – had advised him on his independent study along with several of the Black ancestors.
They had helped him mould himself into the perfect heir of the Black: Antarès! He was cunning, ambitious, sneaky and ruthless.
Antarès Aymeric Black, heir of the Noble and Most Ancient house of Black, would certainly not be outwitted by a member of a secondary branch of the Black.
Already he had carefully penned a letter to the current Minister of Magic, one mister Cornelius Fudge, inviting him and his wife to witness Grand mother Walburga's passing. It was a great honour and a sign of respect to be invited to such event as it was exclusively for family and close friends. It was also a strong political move he was knew would appeal to the power-hungry man, especially after the blunder of Antarès' father's imprisonment.
It had worked, but he had gathered a lot of useful "information" about the minister – thanks to Grandfather Phineas Nigellus.
To his dismay, the current minister was an arrogant bumbling fool, easily corrupted, with low self-esteem, low self-confidence leading him to seek advices from richer and magically-stronger public figures.
Even if all those "qualities" were playing in his favour, Antarès had hoped that the magical community of Great Britain would be guided by someone more … competent.
It seemed that Britain was afraid to choose a wizard with strong opinions and a strong character for fear of the loss of a few unnecessary rights or worst the birth of a dictatorship – apparently they did not trust the multiple counter-measures which had been passed in order to avoid the rise to power of a despot. Thu they preferred the middle of the road, passive candidate who would maintain the status quo. They did not even realize that it was this very situation that had lead to the "first wizarding war" in the first place.
The door bell rang and Harry sighed, now was not the moment to contemplate the state of politic in Magical Britain, he had guests to welcome and a father to appease.
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To Be Continued
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(1) I know that Sirius was never convicted of any crime. But Walburga does not know about that.
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