There were some words, sorry and didn't know, never would have. Shacklebolt hung up the vintage rotary phone in his office. The only piece of muggle technology they'd gotten to work, and the only one they'd needed.
He allowed himself a moment of indecorous behavior, the portraits behind him ducking as he threw his lamp, quills and stacks of now pointless paperwork at the walls and floor. Minister of Magic for twenty peaceful years and it had come to this.
Straightening his robes, he exited his office to see a great many of the pale faces of his Aurors, department heads and general cogs of the Ministry of Magic lined up and awaiting his word. Something, anything that would make the whispers they'd heard not true.
"Oliver, with me. Unspeakable Granger and Malfoy, in my office." Unashamed of the mess, he still quickly set it to rights as the three squeezed out from between the bodies of people behind him and followed. As the wards settled over the room, including a general silencing spell, Shacklebolt began to issue order after order to his intent Head of Ministry Security. At Hogwarts, Oliver Wood had composed rigorous Quidditch workouts. That single-mindedness that others had declared was 'a bit much' then, and at times during the course of his employment with the Ministry, found its purpose today.
When Shacklebolt was finished, Wood did not waste time, his robes spinning with him as he left to make good on what he had previously considered his most paranoid security protocols.
"Tell me, what do you know about the Veil?"
- Harry -
When Percy apparated to Winterfell in a whirl of green robes, only Freki's pups were startled. Freki herself, the newly named direwolf, was now somewhat of an extension of Harry, as Crookshanks had always been for Hermione. He shooed away the pups back into their kennel along with Freki, who gave him a withering glance at being dismissed before trotting behind the metal gates.
The sun was cresting just above the walls, which left the courtyard mostly empty as the denizens of Winterfell ate and bedded down for the night. Harry needn't have worried, however. Weasley had cast a notice-me-not around his person, and he wondered how often the man used the charm that he'd preemptively put it around him. How much wizards in Westeros glided through their life unseen these days, in an effort to stay separate.
"Percy." He greeted the red head warmly.
"Sentinel Potter," he replied briskly, extending a firm hand. Harry smiled ruefully and took it before pulling Percy into a hug as the other man let out a small gasp. The tingle of the notice-me-not charm coated him, and he had a brief moment of nervousness that someone was watching, as he always did when he embraced someone in public. But if there was anyone, it was only servants and no clicking cameras or shouting journalists.
"You always try to be so professional Percy." They'd long since buried the hatchet over Percy's falling out with his family during the war. And not only because he'd had to by way of marrying Ginny. Harry couldn't imagine what it must have been like to have been on the wrong side of the things for so long, even if inadvertently. It had hurt, when he was young, to hear Percy implore his brother Ron to stay away from him, but it was the pain of a child not understanding rejection. As an adult, he knew better about what had driven Percy to make the decisions he had and what lesson had been learned. All of that was what made him the ideal wizard for managing magical affairs in King's Landing. Percy wasn't liable to make the same mistakes again.
"It is good to see you, Harry." Percy relented, letting a smile crack through his thin lips. Being in charge had also been as good to him as he had for it. The last times that Harry had seen Percy at the Burrow, he'd been going greyer each year and looked more like a thin, pinched version of his father. Harry would bet that Percy believed he'd had his chance to do the most important work of his life, and had blown it during the war. Making it to the battle for Hogwarts hadn't erased the time he'd been estranged and Harry knew that Percy felt he hadn't avenged Fred's death, or even atoned for it fully. What Percy did in King's Landing was necessary, but it was also atonement. It was a gift he could offer his people and himself.
"Walk with me, and tell me what you had to come all this way in person for." Harry cast a muffliato, his own notice-me-not charm and a quick lumos.
As they made their way through the courtyard to the open halls of Winterfell, Percy seemed reluctant to talk. Harry knew the conversation would likely be unpleasant, but he'd hoped that there were good things to discuss as well. As they trudged on in relative silence, however, it seemed less likely to be a visit filled with reminiscence of their home and pleasant news of how Harrenhal was coming along.
Harry's rooms had been small initially, but a few extension charms had turned them into something more comfortable for entertaining. They both settled into plush chairs in front of the empty fireplace as Harry levitated logs into the hearth. Wordlessly, Harry pulled a set of tea cups and tea pot out and set to making tea with an aguamenti and heating charm. A fire blazed into existence and charmed blankets slithered their way over and around their legs.
With tea in hand, Percy perceptibly relaxed, but still carried a slight tension to him as he spoke.
"You won't like this. Not at all."
"Percy, you'll always be my brother too, the family I chose, but I'd be an idiot if I didn't realize that most of what you have to say about work is something I'd rather take a Nosebleed Nougat than hear. But I suppose I'm an adult now, so let's get on with it." He sighed.
"We'll start with the easiest issue first. The advisor to the muggle King has passed, as you've heard?"
"Yes, and I know that the man plans on taking Eddard Stark away from his family to replace him. The Lady Stark asked to have a Portkey on standby each night for him to return." The political climate in King's Landing wasn't something Harry paid much attention to, so it was neither here nor there to him whether a Portkey was now appropriate to request for a muggle noble or not. He had figured the least he could do for Catelyn was mention it to someone who could make a difference.
"I suppose that's the only easy issue then." Percy laughed a little forcibly. "We need you in King's Landing, Harry."
"No, absolutely not."
"The Wizengamot- everyone, has given you time to grieve. We all lost loved ones, but the hiding has to stop. Without you to balance the pureblood faction, we're rudderless."
"And who the bloody hell am I to be the steering our sad little ship? You're barmy if you think I'll be headed back with you." Percy's face darkened, the man far less patient than Hermione had been regarding his temper. His fingers clenched the arms of the chair as he shot back with equal vehemence.
"You're the ruddy Chosen One, that's who! You think I fancy coming up here and telling you this? You've not a single idea of what's going on in your government, obsessed with chasing foreign magic, and this pursuit would be forgivable if you talked to my niece at all! No- no, you sit your arse back down and listen to me you selfish todger-" Harry had stood up to loom over the furious man, not intending to hit him with a spell, but perhaps leg it right out of there. Instead he found himself with an incarcerous to the chair and a silencing spell on his person.
"Now we have waited, patiently, for our war heroes to pull their bollocks out of their arses. People who are best suited to being in charge who are off gardening, researching, exploring or counting out their wealth. In the meantime we have Alcyone Black heading up the pureblood faction and pushing the Wizengamot into pre-war levels of prejudice! Speaking of, she is your problem to deal with, being the Head of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black," he all but spat the title. Harry wandlessly and wordlessly released the incarcerous and finited the silencing spell, but stayed docile in his chair. A Weasley in his stride was a Weasley who'd just hex him some more.
"Recently the Wizengamot voted in measures to gather more comprehensive and private data on our non-magical counterparts. Someone, likely Black, already knew something and had hoped to expose it to more public channels where we'd be hard pressed to not act. I scarcely managed to put myself in position to head up the investigation, but cor if I hadn't, we'd be in the midst of another war right now. It's forced us into a precarious position, as if we do not act on the information discovered and instead solidify our non-intervention with the non-magicals, there will eventually be a war between them. If we act, we'll be in direct violation of our charter to not interfere, and there still might be a war that'd we'd have to end quickly. And as you know the current Charter has more holes than a sodding muggle soap opera. The purebloods don't care either way; if we take control of the non-magical government, they make the rules. If we don't, they make the rules of engagement while the rest of us dig our heels in. If we don't get on this first, and ensure our counterparts are treated as human beings, we'll be looking at a classist society all over again, at best." The redhead flicked his wand to release the incarcerous, his brown eyes flashing in irritation when the magic did nothing at all, before putting his grey-streaked head into his hands and rubbing circles on his forehead.
"Harry I don't like making ultimatums, but I've tried my best to wrangle the Wizengamot into something that isn't distrusting, or downright hateful towards non-magicals. Swaying people to a cause is not within my abilities. But I can manage you, and the others. And you can manage the Wizengamot. As far as I can see, none of the people we need have been adequately handling their own care, and that, I can arrange."
"You can't make me. You wouldn't." Harry was glaring Avada Kedavra's out of his green eyes at his brother-in-law, but Percy must have been truly desperate as he looked unflappable and as courageous as any Gryffindor. Bleeding hell, he'd even tied Harry to a chair! He'd expected it of George, but not former Prefect Percy.
"Maybe," he tilted his head to stare back into Harry's eyes, "but you will do it, or I will make your life shite."
"Alcyone isn't my fault." Harry protested weakly, already seeing how this would all play out.
"She's absolutely your sodding fault. You appointed her the proxy for House Black on the Wizengamot, gave her Grimmauld place, which was a mistake. You could have just let her live there, but you gave her a wizarding manse."
"I wasn't using the bloody thing and I want nothing to do with it anymore! And I don't see how giving her the manse is relevant."
"Not relevant? Harry you didn't really think that giving her the place was going to make her less of a problem?"
"I wasn't thinking of that. I was just thinking it'd be nice to do something well, nice. And that she'd appreciate it after being denied her heritage."
"Harry that's rubbish. I don't understand why I have to spell this out for you. She resents it because she believes her heritage should have made her Head of House Black to begin with. You gave her something that she believed to be hers, and she wants the house less than she wants to be indebted to the Chosen One. Or she wants them equally and cannot reconcile that all she has you gave to her."
"Can I just restore her great-grandfather Marius to the tapestry? Wouldn't that fix succession? I'll give it up if that's what she wants."
"No, you git that's not how magic works. Your position as Head of House is yours until you pass. She may have Grimmauld Place ensconced in the hills of Harrenhal and Kreacher worshiping her as Walburga come again, but she can't access the Master's study. She can't even marry without your permission."
"Ginny didn't need her family's permission to marry." He grumbled uselessly.
"Look, you were an Auror, a critical part of wizarding society, but Harry, you are also given a pass when it comes to wizarding culture because of events in the war. The Weasleys sold their manse a long time ago, leaving us only Pureblood in name and not tradition. I understand you don't know or agree with a lot of wizarding tradition, but half of our population is steeped in it and most of the rest besides the muggleborns at least know about it. Like I said, you were given a pass, and the rest of the Auror team could pick up the slack of social niceties when raiding Pureblood houses for dark artifacts. But this is how the other half works, and you can't pretend otherwise." Harry didn't like to think of it, but Percy was right. As much as he resented his mother's family for being downright abusive, he'd never taken to wizarding culture. He'd felt abandoned by his world, even as they craved interviews and blessings from their savior. They didn't want him. They wanted the Boy-Who-Lived, something that belonged to everyone else but Harry.
With Ginny it had been bearable. She smashed cameras and said outrageous things to the random folk that accosted them in restaurants and on the street. He'd needed that, that kind of protection, and he relied on her to interface with the rest of society. Going to the right gatherings, hosting parties. It had all been Ginny.
Percy had paused, knowing that Harry needed a moment to remember what life had been like, and how he'd had Ginny for almost twenty years. Twenty years of love and tender care. Not enough, not nearly enough.
"I'm not accusing you of laziness. I'm saying that in this small society we are clinging to what we know from before, and others are adopting those principles out of fear and lack of anything else to believe in. Before, you could be lax in learning these areas, but now your ignorance and reluctance to engage represents a danger."
"Hermione doesn't care about traditions. And I know I'm a tool, but I want to be my own tool without anyone trying to own me. It's not much to ask that I be in charge of my own life." Harry had already decided he'd have to go, maybe not forever, but at least to take up the Potter seat. He'd leave the Black post to Alcyone, though he was sure it'd be unprecedented and she'd hate him all the more for the obvious generosity.
"Tools will always be sought after, and picked up, regardless of their desires. There is no denying that someone must own them. Believe me I know what my sister did for you and if I could bring her back I would. As for Hermione, she may be your friend but sometimes I'm not sure you know her very well. She's always pretended not to care about being a muggleborn, but it was because no one from the other side would ever accept her blood. I should know, in a way we're very similar, though she's always cared more about what's right. This is her chance now, in a society that values magical blood as pureblood. She's fighting it because it seems unfair that this is what it took for her to get recognition. You're not the only one I'm trying to get to come home, Harry. You're just the most difficult."
"I'll think about it. Any way I can know what you'll do if I don't?" He was more asking for his other friends. Neville and Hannah at the Reach establishing a few of the more domesticated magical plants and animals, Luna at Harrenhal tending the wilder creatures and plants, Seamus in the Iron Islands watching over the Selma population in the Ironman's Bay, Charlie in the Mountains of the Moon near Vale establishing a dragon reserve, and Hermione in the Citadel at Oldtown studying foreign magic. He supposed even Draco Malfoy was his friend these days, but he didn't worry about the Slytherin Prince in the Westerlands.
"Of course. I'll pass a law that disallows proxies at the Wizengamot, pushing Alcyone back to Harrenhal and that house elf that seems nigh immortal, Kreacher. Black is the only pureblood from the old faction that's there by proxy, the rest have original Houses. She's not valuable enough to them to miss out on the high chance that the actual holders of their seats will not show up to session. If seatholders don't show up, items are still voted on."
"How does that help then? I'm one of those people you want coming back and if I had to be there I wouldn't let those sods steamroll my voting!" Percy laughed, a high cackling coming out as if he'd just done something diabolical.
"They think you all aren't there because you don't care, that you're burned out and hobbled by the war. I know better. You're not there because you all care too much to suffer the indignities they could heap upon you, and proxies have relieved you of responsibility that you'd take up if you had to. I've done my best to cultivate the image of the war heroes' selfish retreat into hiding, in preparation for this. You can hate me for it, but it's protected you from their prying. As you know, bringing you back won't make you pushovers. It'll make you Gryffindors all over again. And, if that doesn't work, I have a few more things that can make it uncomfortable for you."
"Fine, as I said, I'll think about it. I assume you're on the side of intervening in their society more than we already have?"
"Yes, I think we have to. The pureblood faction sees intervention as a mercy for the non-magicals, like how you'd put animals in a zoo or a reserve. None of their solutions would address the reasons their society still contains such violence, poverty and instability. If we intervene, it must be to improve their lot and let them sort their governance out, not to press them further down into the dirt," Percy sounded exasperated by how obvious he felt his position was. Harry wasn't surprised at the general opinion purebloods held for muggles, however. They sat in relative silence for a moment before Percy spoke again.
"Has Hermione talked to you about her Arithmancy calculations? Or Luna about her divination?"
"I didn't realize she was looking into it here. Has it worked any?"
"It's complicated. Her work is very good, and I've been helping her test it. We've had to anchor portions of our calculations into Old Valyrian glyphs and lodestones. Hermione has spent quite a bit of time curating magic-touched stone to serve as anchors. It turns out the Maesters may have had some idea that the runic language of Old Valyria might be inherently magical, but their disinterest in the subject borders on disobedient. I've had to use legilimency more than once, as has Draco, to procure relevant documents. More importantly, we can see something with our calculations. We're not sure what, but there's a cloud over the future in the coming decade. After that, we can't determine what happens to Westeros. It's massive, and we're not sure if it's due to some fluke of intermingling magical disciplines or if what comes after is so radically different one way or the other that the danger is real."
"Like Voldemort." Harry had wondered why Arithmancy could be used to tell the future and hadn't been used to stop Dark Lord after Dark Lord from rising. How hard could it be? Hard, apparently, and imprecise. Especially since Dark Lords went big or went home, altering futures so significantly, it was difficult to pull any tendrils of simple actionable changes that weren't interdependent on one another. And more especially because time did not seem to like meddling, and too many changes caused it to find another way to snap back to what it had originally intended.
In the war, he'd asked why they hadn't used time turners or arithmancy to prevent or stop deaths. It had been explained that they could save a family from the Death Eaters one day, but the next they would likely be hit by a muggle bus. Hermione had once gone in depth on the theories of what could be effectively changed and what couldn't, but an hour in and he'd passed out on the Weasley's couch to the sounds of her voice intermingling with Luna and Percy's.
"Yes, but unlike Voldemort there are some factors that make impending conflict obvious and inevitable. Here are the reports on what we've found." Harry took the thick stack of parchment Percy had pulled from his extendable pouch. He didn't miss his paperwork days from being an Auror, yet he settled in anyway, listening to Percy summarize what had gone so horribly awry in the south.
The next he saw Percy, the man was atop a horse a few shades darker than his hair, a red banner whipping back and forth above his head, emblazoned with a black gryphon for House Weasley. Next to him rode a few nameless knights and bannerman. They poured into Winterfell like a colorful river, each bearing their banner.
Harry knew none of them, but given the way more than a few eyed his robes, they knew what he was.
The hefty man at the head of the column, who was most certainly the King, vaulted off the back of his put upon war horse and grabbed the Lord of Winterfell into an embrace.
"Ned! Ah, but it is good to see that frozen face of yours. You've not changed at all."
Harry could see in Ned's face that the man couldn't reciprocate the comment. The King was a study in gluttony and ill-suited vanity. His coarse beard covered a fat neck and perfume hung heavy around him, though it didn't stop the sour smell of unwashed skin and ale from creeping through. He wondered how many times he'd been hit unbeknownst with a scourgify from an irritated wizard or witch.
"Your Grace. Winterfell is yours."
"Bah, as much as anything is mine anymore." The King eyed Harry up with sharp blue eyes, far less resentful in his tone than words. Given the man's lack of interest in his own government, he had probably reasoned that he could be grateful that wizards had shown up and taken the burden from him, but he couldn't appear to be happy about it for the sake of those who had put him on the throne.
The King's children were introduced, along with his wife and Queen. Her golden hair and upturned nose reminded him so much of Draco back when he'd been a poncy git in Hogwarts, and he almost cracked a smile thinking of Draco sneering down at the Queen and declaring her 'dull'. The man had a nose for weakness, having been a self-admitted bully at Hogwarts. It was something Harry had picked up on in working at the ministry, that Draco always knew what could get a person to throw a wobbler.
"Take me down to your crypt, Eddard. I would pay my respects."
"Your Grace, surely we should settle in and refresh ourselves first." Percy had provided one time Portkeys for the journey, as it was a matter of peaceable interactions within the Kingdom. They'd only just mounted up in King's Landing as far as Harry understood. He had no idea what the man wanted to do in the crypts anyway.
A knight who was surely the Queen's brother, being as blond as she was, moved to her side as the King turned and gave his wife a cold look. Harry sighed, trying not to think about what Percy had told him.
"My Lord Potter." The words surprised him, but only for a moment. Before him materialized Alcyone Black, her features quintessential to her family name. If not for her eyes that were more obsidian than flint, and curling waves of black hair, he'd have thought her a northerner. But mostly, she looked like a softer, feminine echo of Sirius. It was this familiarity that made it feel as though she was more than an acquaintance, no matter what Harry consciously knew about the woman, which was truly little.
"My Lady Black." He reached out, kissing the soft skin on the top of her limp fingers before he jerkily backed away from her. Alcyone stayed cool and collected, her eyes revealing no distaste as she curtseyed to him. As Percy approached, he nodded imperceptibly to the other man, in confirmation that he was on board for what had been discussed between them. Relief briefly flickered in Percy's eyes.
"Shall we?" Harry offered his elbow to Alcyone and she took it gracefully, letting him lead the three of them to his room once more. One of them had cast a notice-me-not and a muggle repelling charm as no one around them seemed to notice their presence but bustled out of their way automatically. Freki followed close behind, not fooled by any charms. He'd really have to get Percy to examine what he'd done to the direwolf before he left this time.
They had only an hour before they were due to appear at the feast, which was the perfect amount of time to talk about everything that mattered, but not long enough for Alcyone to needle him with anything else.
He'd altered the sitting room slightly for their arrival, adding a third chair, a larger table and fancier tea set. Hermione had beseeched him to put on his "big boy" robes that he used to wear to Ministry events, and he had done so, figuring he might as well get used to it going forward. Freki curled her large body near the fire, golden eyes wide and alert as she lay with her head tucked over her tail.
Percy settled in happily, flicking his wand at the teapot to begin tea service and murmuring questions about how Lady Black would like her tea and if she would prefer fresh fruit to marmalade and scones. Harry never would have known that the man had a general dislike for Alcyone had he not heard directly from him about it, given how solicitous he was of her comfort. Perhaps it was a reflection of Harry's inability as a host. The one time he'd hosted a party all on his own at Grimmauld place had been before James was born; Ginny had thrown her hands up in disgust and had dragged everyone out to a muggle bar when she'd seen the state of the house. Harry felt this was only partially his fault, as Grimmauld place and its resident elf seemed to hate him. The very walls slouched in his presence and no amount of scourgifying had worked to remove the decades, or maybe centuries, of dirt. He wondered what it looked like now, under Alcyone's care. He bet the bleeding house liked her.
"Gentleman, down to business, if I may." She didn't wait for a response, levitating papers out that settled gracefully into their extended hands. As soon as he grasped them he felt the binding of a vow linking itself to his magic. It was standard for information obtained by the Wizengamot to have a vow attached to the documents, preventing wizards from inadvertently giving away information to non-magicals. Or advertently.
"The Wizarding People's party has proposed that in light of recent information received on our non-magical counterparts, we modify the charter or declare it defunct. There is grave danger in leaving the non-magicals to their own devices. I believe we must act now, and have a solution presented by the time the new Hand of the King reaches King's Landing."
"So less than a few days? How convenient for you to have a vote so quickly." Alcyone stiffened at Harry's words, and Percy gave him a warning frown. He was supposed to be cooperative, and not antagonize the straight-backed and unyielding proxy for the House of Black. Mostly because his gruff demeanor could be interpreted by her as disagreement with her abilities, and if she left the Wizengamot, even willingly because of pressure experienced by him, it would reflect poorly for their side. The whispers that Harry had forced her out through blackmail or worse would trail behind him. What Harry really thought, was that the woman was Slytherin through and through, for all that she was in Wampus House at Ilvermorny. Her shock was practiced, her vulnerability making her seem like a hot house pureblood flower. But he could see the steel underneath, the calculating gleam to her eyes as she wielded Percy's concern for her against Harry.
"Your Warden's life hangs in the balance, Lord Potter. Surely you wish to resolve this before he becomes victim to this conspiracy as well? I have heard he is as reckless in his honesty as you." Harry brushed off the insult, since he probably deserved it. The unspoken remained that wizards could defend themselves against many angles of attack, even if they were only proficient in defense of it. Lord Stark was a swordsman, but not an assassin. He'd never survive it if someone wanted to kill him in King's Landing.
"As far as I've read, this would all play out without our interference and probably be dealt with by the Hand himself. What's to say they can't handle this on their own?"
"Oh they most assuredly could, but the cost to wizarding property, life and reputation could be one we're not willing to pay. I've provided character assessments of all possible contenders for the throne, as well as profiles on their predicted responses to the primary issue at hand. The majority resent our influence, small as it is, and think that Robert Baratheon has abandoned his duty to the throne by giving us land and titles. The succession will not be smooth. Too many of the non-magicals have learned the truth of the conspiracy already to adequately suppress their memories. We are sure they have written documentation."
Harry pulled out the moving photographs that had been taken and shuffled through them, trying to avoid seeing how lurid in detail they were. Leave it to Purebloods to be less offended regarding the incest, and more concerned that it was outside the bounds of marriage. To think that Voldemort would have approved of Alecto and Amycus Carrow's relations with one another, as long as it was done under binding oath of marriage, was foul.
"As you know, several proxies will be relieved of their duties within the Wizengamot in the upcoming weeks. Per what I've discussed with Percy, you will continue to represent House Black while I move into my duties for House Potter. I'd like to propose a waiting period of a fortnight before we approach this issue once more. As much as I am fond of Eddard Stark, the charter is sacrosanct and we have pledged not to interfere in what does not directly concern us." Alcyone's cheek twitched once, but the rest of her mien remained steadfastly placid. If she wanted to pretend to be threatened, Harry could legitimately threaten and bodge the consequences. He was no politician, but in the Auror core he had learned how to call a bluff when he saw one.
"I respect your need for time Lord Potter. There are concerns that the low diversity of specimens we currently have at Harrenhal and the Reach would not be able to sustain even a small assault, and the loss of even one magical life would alter our Arithmancy calculations for genetic diversity considerably. It will not take the Hand longer than a month, but certainly more than a week's time to discern for himself what has happened. That should be sufficient to review the documents and put it to vote."
Freki yawned from her place by the fire, eyes locked on his as she opened and closed her mouth. A week was about as much as Percy had told him to expect. The Wizengamot had already delayed the vote while Percy had contacted the people he planned to come back to their now-hereditary seats. The man himself had remained silent throughout the exchange, letting Harry get back into the feel of politics once more.
"A week. Well that settles it then. I've added two rooms and baths to each, as well as extended my wards to them. It was more efficient and safe than re-warding two more rooms. Alcyone, Percy." He nodded to both, standing up and gesturing to the former's room which was opposite his own, and the latter's which he had placed on the same side as his.
They both murmured their confirmation as each went off to prepare for the feast.
I think what's most interesting about naming this OC Alcyone, is that later I find she is one amongst the Seven Weeping Sisters, or the Pleiades. I just looked up star names until one that was female didn't sound stupid, wasn't already used, and also wasn't Lyra. Alcyone specifically is associated with competition, sadness, loss in astrology. I think it should be clear now that the wizarding populace has stumbled upon the incest issue. D: