Second day to the start of classes and already she was called to her Head of House's office. Lucy stood in front of Professor McGonagall's table at seven in the morning, looking far from remorseful for what she had done the night before.
She stood there with a stoic look on her face, and McGonagall could have sworn she saw Lucien Black clearly on her face. Clearing her throat and dispelling all further thoughts of the debonair man, McGonagall began to speak.
"That was disgraceful stunt you had pulled last night, Ms. Black. And on your cousin, no less," McGonagall began to say and Lucy muttered a reply under her breath.
"What was that, Ms. Black?" McGonagall asked sternly, eyeing the young girl.
"I have no cousin, Professor McGonagall," she replied, looking up with the same dark eyes that had been unique of the Black family name. Dark, almost black, eyes that failed to ever back down from anything they had seriously set their minds to. And McGonagall had once again been force to remember the girl's father.
"Be that as it may, you will serve detention for a week! And your parents will be notified of this violent attack you had pulled on your fellow student," McGonagall dictated sternly, "it is one thing to be in a fight, Ms. Black, and another when one had caused another a minor concussion in the process."
Lucy stood with her back straight, hands behind her, and a thin-lipped frown on her otherwise placid face. She nodded solemnly; taking the punishment like her father had taught her. If you cannot accept the consequences, then do nothing to merit them, he had instructed her ever since she was a child.
McGonagall dismissed her, watching curiously as the girl bowed respectfully and turned to leave the room. She had no arguments, no injections, no bargains, no qualms; Lucy Black had taken it as an adult, or rather, McGonagall thought, as a scared eleven year old girl who knew not of disrespecting her elders.
As the door shut behind Miss Black, McGonagall stood to speak briefly with the Headmaster. He could surely explain the reasoning behind Miss Black's denial at having any cousin at Hogwarts, where in fact she had four of them currently residing in that same castle.
Walking briskly to the statue of the gargoyle, McGonagall muttered the password, "Sugar Quills." The gargoyle leapt quickly from its perch, revealing a spiralling staircase leading into a dark upper chasm which McGonagall quickly ascended. The antechamber that awaited her had a warm sweet smell to it, like hot chocolate or caramelized sugar, that encompassed the entire surface area of the foyer.
From the opposite side of the room, large double doors stood closed and Minerva McGonagall had not enough gall to simply intrude upon the Headmasters time without prior notice. "Enter," an aged voice called from the other side, seeming to know well of McGonagall's presence far before she had even rasped on his door.
Minerva walked through the open doors, standing in front of the desk where Albus Dumbledore sat, pouring over his beaten, battered copy of Beadle the Bard. "Albus," she called to him, making the old man look up at her.
"I take you have spoken with young Miss Black?" Dumbledore asked, a grin shadowed by the girth of his facial hair, yet one of those smiles that can easily be heard.
"She is under the impression that she has no next of kin, specifically cousins," she replied, getting quickly to the purpose of her visit.
Dumbledore folded the page of his book, placing it beside him. He leaned against his desk, folding his hands as he studied her calmly. "And what is the trouble with Lucy Black being under that impression?" he asked.
McGonagall regarded him with an astonished look, opening and closing her mouth in an attempt to argue her own feelings yet incapable of articulating what she thought she wanted to say. But there really was nothing wrong with not knowing about the existence of one's own relatives, it happens all the time.
"No, I cannot say there is," she conceded, despite a feeling of unrest about that case, Minerva knew well that Dumbledore was right, as he had always been.
Dumbledore sighed, "I know you feel that this should not be the case and that Miss Black should know more about the family she has been born into, but we, as mentors, have no right to interfere with domestic affairs." He regarded her quite closely, reading the continuously growing sceptical look upon her face.
"Her father, Lucien Black, you remember him I take?"
"How can I forget? That young man had absolute control of Slytherin ever since he arrived at the school barely the age of eleven." Minerva remembered quite clearly, as though it had only been yesterday, the perpetually stoic young boy who held enough silent charisma that led to the majority of the student body to follow him.
Dumbledore laughed at this anecdote, mind drifting back to his own years heading the school while Lucien Black was still there. "Lucien is the one who chose never to reveal to Lucy who she is in the household of Black."
McGonagall looked aghast, gaping at Dumbledore like a fish. "Why ever so? He was a proud Black if I remember him correctly," she retorted.
"Sit." Dumbledore motioned to a seat, the armchair pulling itself to him with some unseen force. McGonagall did as he asked, not pressing as she waited for the rest of his tale.
"At this point, it's safe to reveal this secret…blemish on the Ancient House of Black," he began, "Lucien Black had always been, since the time of his birth, a loyal believer in the purity of blood.
Once his father, the high patriarch, had died when he was on his seventh year, it became Lucien's responsibility to become the successor of his father's position. Considering his impeccable abilities with magic and his heart formed purely from the Black ideals, there were no qualms in the choice of the high patriarch.
Succeeding a few years following his graduation, many of the family wondered who Lucien Black would choose to marry and, being one for entrances, he arrived at the Black estate with a woman."
"A Pureblood, no doubt," McGonagall interjected, a small amused smile placed on her face.
Dumbledore shook his head, "a Muggle."
"A muggle?" McGonagall repeated. Her mind was thrown back down to earth, the news being an absurd turn in what she had always believed Lucien Black's life would have been, "would he not have been shunned by that choice?"
"Quite accurate, I'm afraid. Be his choice had been done for love or for more personal needs; he had brought a Muggle to the Black estate and announced his marriage to her. This, of course, did not bode well with the family which led to many fights and duels, ending in the disowning of Lucien Black from the Black family," Dumbledore explained once again.
"And where does Lucy fit in all of this?" she continued to ask, becoming more intrigued with this large tale.
"This shame to the name of Black has been kept a secret for many years, and in his want to suture his new family from any connection to the Blacks, he made it a decision to not reveal to Lucy their existence. He has put of the charade that he and his wife were only children of only children, thus making her believe that she had no such things as cousins."
"What of his name then? Why did he retain the name of Black if he had wanted to separate himself from the family?"
"That, Minerva, is part of the mystery that is Lucien Black," he replied, chuckling a bit as though it was just a mere jest or a quick slight of the hand.
Minerva sighed in exasperation, "that family is one secret after another."
Dumbledore laughed once again, "a pureblood family is never anything but one secret after another. That is what they are founded on after all."
Minerva straightened and leaned a bit closer to Dumbledore, "be that as it may, my question remains the same, why would he not tell Lucy of all this?"
Dumbledore turned his seat to the window outside, seeing a few students walk to and from around the expanse of the school. He breathed in deeply and clasped his hands in front of him.
"It could have been a number of things. Fear she would try to contact them, fear that she would want to learn more of them, fear that she could become like one of them, but in truth, Minerva, the answer is yet another secret that only Lucien Black can answer."
Minerva sighed and leaned back on her seat, studying the pensive look on the aging Headmaster's face. In one aspect, she could understand the drama that seemed to plague pureblood families like that, but in another, the deeper reasoning seemed to be incomprehensible to her.
"Lucien Black will arrive this afternoon to speak with his daughter, please bring her here once the clock strikes two. Tell her, her father would be here to see her. It could bring up her morale after such a winded night."
Minerva gave a tight-lipped nod and moved out of the Headmaster's office, if it was one thing she couldn't stand, it were these elitist pureblood families who aim to maintain their pureblood status to the point of disowning family.
It was unfair for Lucy Black not to know of her family, but Minerva could do no more beyond her better judgement. She was, after all, bound to the orders of the Headmaster had it not been for that, she would be most willing to elaborate with Lucy the workings of the Black family as far as she knew.
But the question would be, would Lucy even listen to her? "If that girl is anything like her father, the only person to get through to her is her father," she muttered, entering the classroom as her students awaited her arrival.
At two o'clock sharp, a familiar crack was heard in the Headmaster's office, signalling the arrival of a guest in the school. It would take them a few minutes to arrive at his office, usually, but with long strides like that of Lucien Black's, a few minutes would amount to three.
Dumbledore sat back on his chair, smoking bubbles from a hand-carved wooden pipe that he had gotten from a friend stationed in the Near East. It was a strange little thing that gave out bubble instead of the usual gray fog that would rise from the ordinary Muggle pipes.
"Headmaster," a baritone voice echoed in the cosy little office, bringing the attention of the former Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts to attention.
Philleus Nigelus Black stared with inquisitive eyes as he observed the fallen patriarch of the Ancient House of Black, Lucien Black would have been the ideal poster child of a pureblood family, he thought.
Thick, long hair contrasting his strong glowing features, he was far from pale, yet not enough to call him tan or burnt, but he had this aura about him that made his structure emanate a light of some sort. Standing at an altitude of six foot seven with an imposing body mass, he was a daunting figure to any that would meet him.
But even this did not faze the old Headmaster, who knew all too well of the true Lucien Black under all that self-imposed discipline. "Lucien," he greet, placing the pipe down on the table, "I remember quite fondly when you were sent here during your days at Hogwarts."
Lucien Black gave a small inkling of a smile. "All for false charges, Headmaster, not once had I ever lay a finger on my fellow student."
Dumbledore laughed at that remark, "I recall that you did hex a certain Mr. Le Strange once."
Lucien Black just smirked widely, "all too uphold the honour of my House. It did us no good to have one of our own cursing at a defenceless Hufflepuff. He was a disgrace."
"Such House pride you had, Lucien. I'm quite surprised that Lucy had been sorted to Gryffindor," the Headmaster began to trail on.
"She takes it from her mother, had her mother gone to Hogwarts," he replied, not wanting to say more to the curious Headmaster.
Dumbledore nodded and sat up on his seat, "Lucy will be here in a moment, Minerva has just excused her from the last minutes of her class."
Lucien nodded and sat on an arm chair, clasping his hands as he stared up at the blankness of the wall. He had much to say to Lucy and even more to explain, he had hoped never to reveal to her of his former family, but unfortunately, his family had the opportunity to spawn out more pureblood elitists.
Dumbledore looked to his former student, studying his complacent face as he was pulled into his own mind. There will always be things he would never understand of Lucien Black, partly because of his secretive nature, the other because of his lone-wolf like attitude.
The Headmaster assumed that by having a family, he would separate himself from the boy he was, but sometimes, he supposed, it was all just wishful thinking.
"Lucien," the Headmaster spoke again, "it has come to my attention that Lucy has used a spell far beyond the capabilities of a First Year Student who has just arrived at Hogwarts."
Lucien looked to the Headmaster, his raven eyes inviting him to continue with his inquiry. The Headmaster looked back, feeling no fear as the eyes of a patriarchal Black continued to gaze upon him, "she used 'Stupefy' on young Mister Black and it has only been the start of her regular classes."
Lucien Black breathed in deeply, thinking how he would answer such a question, but it was Dumbledore he was speaking too, rarely would the man ever divulge underage wizardry to the likes of the Ministry. "I have been teaching her magic since she had first begun to speak fluently," he answered truthfully, finding no fear anymore from the discovery. What was the worst the Ministry could do to him after all?
The Headmaster nodded, "and if I may be so bold, what was your reasoning for arming your daughter so early?"
The man gave a sarcastic chuckle, a deep reverberating sound that could chill the bones of any regular wizard. "You know as much as I the dangers that Luciana would face. It was only practical to teach her ways to defend herself if necessary," he replied.
"And did that include the Unforgivable Spells?"
Lucien said nothing, wondering if he was so predictable that the old man knew that he would teach his own child the horrors of the Unforgivables at such an early age, as well as, recalling that fateful day when he did ask her to cast a few on unsuspecting insects.
"She never could do the Killing Curse," he muttered, knowing well enough that the old man's hearing was younger than his body.
"Could, Lucien? Or is it would?" the Headmaster cheekily asked.
"There is more of a Gryffindor in her than a Slytherin," Lucien answered.
"It's never a matter of house, Lucien, you should understand that by now," the Headmaster chuckled, "there is more good in her than she would let show."
Lucien Black thought deeply about the Headmaster's words. He was right of course, as he always is. Luciana had been the good in him that he had forgotten long ago and replaced with the staid persona that he had developed.
"Well, we shall chat some more at another time I suppose. Lucy and Minerva are here."
The doors to the office opened, the tall woman gliding in gracefully followed by the female miniature of Lucien Black. Lucien straightened in his seat as his daughter marched to the head of the table. She understood why she was there; it would be another lecture she would not forget so easily, she supposed.
"Father, Headmaster," she greet curtly, nodding at the two men in the room. Lucy stood with her hands behind her, feet slightly apart, and with a poker-faced stare etched on her features.
"I take you understand why you are here, Lucy," the Headmaster began.
"Yes, Headmaster," she replied, not daring to look at the possible angry stare that her Father would be giving her.
"It is a serious matter when one has hurt a fellow student, and no exceptions would be given whether you are new or not," he continued, "would you like to give your account of the matter, Lucy?"
Lucy thought for a moment, wondering if it was best to try and defend her side in this losing battle. She had hurt him, though slightly, and she knew that the consequences would not be lessened even if she had chosen to say her side.
But her Father spoke for her, either way. "Tell your side, Luciana."
Lucy nodded in compliance, "Sirius Black spoke ill-words towards me and my family. It riled me, so I did not let it go," she replied briefly.
"What did he say, Lucy?" the Headmaster asked, though sensing that she did not wish to tell what concisely occurred that night in the Common Room.
Lucy breathed in deeply, feeling her Father's impatience, "what he had called me is trivial, yet he chose to call my Father a blood-traitor and my Mother a muggle whore." Deep inside, her blood boiled as she recalled the sneer and jeers erupting from Sirius Black. He was in no position to judge her Father's life-choices as he did, even if he could have possibly lied to his own daughter of his life prior to the one she knew of.
"And what did he call you?"
"A Mudblood surmounting to nothing more than a Muggle whore."
"And you took no insult in this, but instead in the words spoken against your family?"
"My family is more important," she replied honestly, though softer than how she had spoken moments before. Lucy could still feel her Father's eyes on her, a deeper sense of his own anger emanating towards where she stood.
Dumbledore sighed in response, "I cannot say that you were justified in your actions that night, but Sirius Black had overstepped his boundaries in the matter and he shall be dealt with justly. Now, Lucy, your Father has arrived at Hogwarts because he wishes to speak with you personally of this matter. Lucien."
Lucien studied his daughter, refusing to look at him, to see how his eyes shone when he was feeling strong emotions. In this case it was anger, but he didn't know if she knew that. Such an innocent thing she was, he thought, a trait that never seemed to have disappeared from her even as a child.
"Headmaster, Minerva, may I ask to speak to Luciana alone?" Lucien asked, getting off the seat he was planted on quite heavily.
"Of course, would my private study suffice?" Dumbledore asked, waving a hand as a bookshelf disapparated to reveal an adjoining room.
Lucien marched into the smaller extension, followed respectfully by his stoic daughter. There was no space for white lies and games anymore.
The bookshelves returned to where they were and Dumbledore sat in his office with Minerva. The Transfigurations sat on the chair abandoned by Lucien Black, wondering to herself what that man would do to his daughter.
"He would not hurt her, if that is what you're thinking," Dumbledore answered, "Lucien Black is a short-tempered man but never a violent one."
Minerva just nodded dumbly, waiting patiently as father and daughter had a talk in private so close to where they were yet farther than what Minerva wished for them to be.
Lucien nodded to an empty arm chair, Lucy following his orders as she sat herself down. She knew what was coming to her, a tongue-lashing like no other. She had promised not to cause trouble in school before she had left home, and on her third day, she broke that promise completely.
"I had hoped to avoid revealing to you the shame of my past, Lucy," Lucien spoke, his voice softening as he looked down at the daughter that sat before him. Lucy did not speak, just listened as her expectations shifted to another degree.
"Sirius Black is your cousin, as many must have said to you, and in my understanding, two others here in Hogwarts are also kin of ours. But what I would like to know first is what Sirius Black said to you."
"He said you were a patriarch of the Black family; a blood-traitor because you had married a Muggle and was therefore disowned by the family. Is that true, Father?"
Lucien sighed, seating himself on the chair opposite his daughter. He clasped his hands together, looking less and less like who he was to the public. He was becoming the man that Lucy used to see as a child, before the impending chaos of the Wizarding world.
He gave her what smile he could, dragging a hand on his daughter's head. "What that young man says is true. I had been the patriarch of the Black family and I had been disowned for marrying your mother. But you must understand that I hid all this from you for a reason."
Lucy nodded dumbly, waiting for her father to continue with his speech.
"I had hoped you would not meet any of the remaining Blacks in your time here at Hogwarts. It would not be a conducive environment for you to grow up surrounded by the likes of them. They are heartless fiends who thrive on Pureblood elitism and wizarding purity. They had frowned upon my binding to your mother, therefore I hid you from their prying eyes."
"You wonder why I had trained you so harshly as a child, they are partly the reason for it. They will want to hurt you, Lucy, to break you to get to me. But you should not let them, do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, Father."
"You are not like them, so do not let them destroy you like how Sirius Black had done the night before. He is an unhappy child raised by the likes of my sister and one I thought would not be present while you reside in Gryffindor."
"Yes, Father."
"Understand that there is a reason for my lies. But many things will still remain unknown to you. You are still far too young to understand the deeper trenches in the history of the Black family."
Lucy stared at her Father, her questions building up inside of her so quickly that even her Father's Legillimency could not comprehend sane speech at the rush of ideas. But she knew she couldn't ask them now, her Father was one to tell when he had deemed it appropriate and at that early stage, she understood that she was not ready, just like what her Father had said.
"Will you tell me later on?" she asked, hope slipping through her tone in a whisper.
"One day," he replied, giving one of his rare smiles once again.
She did have a chance to hope, at least.