July 30, 1988.

The Black Manor, Bulgaria.

"Ares? Ares? Where are you?"

"Over here, Pad!" came the cheerful voice of his son. Sirius could never get tired of hearing his voice. It always brought a smile to his face and a pure sense of joy to his heart. It was perhaps, this reason above all that Sirius could not just remain angry with him for long, no matter what Ares did or how dangerous the task was.

Following the voice towards the kitchen, Sirius passed the corridor outside the study on the ground floor and the stairs leading to the servant's quarters below the manor. Entering the kitchen, Sirius glanced around, noticing the clean and pristine manner in which the kitchen was maintained and the absence of Ares. For a moment, he wondered if Kreacher would kick him out again if he made some hot chocolate for himself and Ares.

When Sirius had first arrived with Ares at the Ancestral manor of the Blacks in Bulgaria, the house was under a stasis spell. After deactivating the stasis runes that held the manor in limbo and realising there were no house elves around, Sirius had called for his now deceased mother's house elf, Kreacher, who had promptly responded to his summons, a sneer on his face and insults on his lips.

Kreacher had never liked since the days of his childhood and had never failed to make his displeasure known and parroted his mother's opinions of blood purity. After the death of his mother and Regulus had disappeared in service of the Dark Lord, Kreacher had spent all his time in Grimmauld place with the photo of Sirius and Regulus' mother, Walburga Black. The near isolation from the world and the constant company of her photo and slightly unhinged Kreacher's mind, giving him a nasty streak a mile wide and a hatred for any wizard/witch who wasn't a pureblood

Sirius had introduced Ares to Kreacher as the descendant of his aunt Dorea and the Heir Apparent of the House of Black, knowing Kreacher would be far more loyal to a member of the Blacks. From that point forward, Kreacher had taken over the duties of the manor and insults being thrown towards Sirius from time to time.

While the relationship between Sirius and Kreacher had never completely thawed, Kreacher had become less insulting over time and now merely repeated the insults as though they were of force of habit rather than any actual hatred.

Breaking out of his thoughts about the crazy house elf and knowing the elf would throw him out the kitchen for cooking by himself, never mind the fact that he was the Lord Black, Sirius glanced around once more and spotted the door that led to the balcony behind the manor, overlooking the kitchen garden. Kreacher was a fanatic for fresh herbs, ingredients and spices and had converted the gardens and greenhouses behind the manor into a veritable treasure trove of ingredients.

Walking out the door and stepping onto the balcony, Sirius' gaze travelled over the entire garden, taking the greenhouses on the far left and the rather large field of vegetables and spices spread over the area. Taking further steps towards the railing, Sirius glanced around to find Ares crouched in front of a large shrub, his back facing the balcony.

"What are you doing?"

"Talking to my friend." Ares's voice boomed up from the garden. He still faced the shrub.

Friend?

Sirius jumped off from the balcony and landed nimbly on the garden soil. The Auror boots still served him as well as it all those years ago. There was a reason, after all, why Dragon-hide was so costly.

"Who is this friend of-" Spotting what appeared to be a snake, Sirius shouted "Ares move!" He drew his wand, a blasting curse in his lips.

Hearing his father shout, Ares was frightened and quickly rose from his position and moved aside, holding a snake tightly in his left hands.

Sirius paled at the sight. His nearly eight-year old son was holding a two-foot long adder in his hands.

"Ares! Leave the snake! It can hurt you!" He admonished, his wand pointed towards the snake, in case it turned on his son.

"But Pad, this is my friend." Ares complained, grumbling at the thought of leaving his friend.

"Your f... friend?" Sirius shivered at the thought.

"Yes." Ares replied excitedly, perking up at his father's question. "He tells me a lot about the surroundings, about how he-" but Sirius cut him off.

"You can speak to him?" He asked warily.

"Of course! Silly Pad…" Ares grumbled good-naturedly. Sirius sat down on the ground and let out a long-suffering sigh.

"I want to see you talking to him…" Trailing off, Sirius thought hard on the information he just received. "Tell him I won't attack him."

Ares turned towards the silver and black adder and repeated as his father instructed. What he did not realise was that his speech sounded as odd hissing to his father.

Sirius gave another sigh and looked up towards the heavens for possible directions and guidance. "You are a Parselmouth!" He finally uttered.

"No, I am not." Ares corrected his father hastily. "I am a Speaker. Scylla said so."

Sirius looked towards him as if he had just grown two heads. Speaker? "And is this Speaker a person who can talk to snakes?"

"Of course, silly Pad!"

"Then a Parselmouth and a Speaker is the same thing!" Sirius pronounced.

The adder hissed something to Ares who hissed back in return. Looking back at his father, he replied. "Scylla says you are very intelligent." He grinned.

Sirius did not know whether to laugh or cry. Knowing how prejudiced Magical Britain was, he was worried about Ares's apparent ability and affability with snakes. While the rest of Europe did not hold any prejudice towards the ability, they were wary of it due to its link to the Dark Arts. But Sirius knew the day Ares displayed his ability in public was the day Britain would immediately link him to Slytherin and perhaps, Voldemort. No! Giving himself a firm reprimand to stop worrying he wondered about his son's ability.

While the Black family did have a few parselmouths in its history, the potters had never shown such an ability. Blood-adopted he might be, but Ares was a Potter. And the ability had never manifested when Black family members were married outside the family. He would take Ares for an inheritance test tomorrow. It was his eighth birthday. What better time to test out his inheritance?

Looking back at his still ignorant son, Sirius asked. "Tell me Ares, you up for learning more about your ability as a Speaker?"

Ares's grin just turned wider and wider.

The next morning, Sirius, accompanied by his son Ares Black, apparated near the Bulgarian branch of Gringotts located on Planinski Rev boulevard in the city of Sliven, the largest city in Bulgaria.

Considered by many magical historians to be one of the oldest magical settlements in Europe, it was formed by the remnants of mages left after the romans had conquered what would later be known as Bulgaria in 46 AD. In order to better protect themselves and a certain measure of critical thinking, the mages established the community within the city and instituted paranoid level of security. These measures served to protect the community through the various battles and invasions that plagued Bulgaria through the years. After the Dark Arts Master Nerida Vulchanova established the Durmstrang institute in 1276 AD in the mountains of Norway, the Slivan community had grown to encompass most of the Wizarding population of the Balkans. The constant fighting between the muggles had intensified the security measures while the magical population had mandatory self-defence classes instituted to better protect themselves from rival magical nations and Dark Lords. By the time the security measures were relaxed under the authority of the Bulgarian Ministry for Magic in the 1800's, the nation had achieved a reputation for producing some of the most feared battle-mages of all time.

Planinski Rev, the magical boulevard of Sliven formed by highly stabilised space-expansion charms and wards, held a distinct militaristic appearance. While the shop still held color and charm and offered a variety of views to the public traversing the road, the designs reminded one of the battlements of fortresses built for war. Sharp edges and steep angles formed the majority of the architecture.

Sirius led Ares across the street through the crowd to the black granite edifice of Gringotts.

After the ICW had signed a peace treaty with the Goblins around the eighth century, the goblins had territory in the holdings of various nations. While the goblins were a primarily subterranean race, they used the land available to start the banking system that they agreed to maintained for the Wizards. The goblins had also wrung an extra concession that they would be the only official banking system for the ICW. Soon, their land holdings were transformed into massive edifices providing banking services, and more discrete services known only to a few nobles and ruling families of the magical world.

The pair entered the majestic building, only for Ares to come to a halt at seeing the interior of the bank for the first time. The bank held a similar configuration to the branch in London with the notable exception being the ceiling and the black granite walls. Unlike the other branch, this ceiling held a massive painting of goblin warriors facing a demon on a snow capped peak.

Tugging on Ares' arm with an unspoken command to follow him, the pair proceeded past the tellers and people towards the corridors behind the doors leading to the inner sanctum of the bank, guarded by goblin warriors.

After entering the corridor and closing the door behind themselves, Sirius and Ares began walking past several ornate, gilded doors that held plaques of both gobbledegook and Bulgarian indicating the family to which the Account Managers worked for. They passed several such doors and ornate paintings of goblin wars on the walls and proceeded to the office that held the Black Account Manager.

Halting in front of the office, Sirius passed a glance at Ares to behave respectfully. Ares nodded in the affirmative. Sirius opened the door to a similar configuration as Ripclaw's office in Britian, with the notable difference being the manager himself. This goblin had only eight fingers, two fingers missing on his left hand, a long gash from the right eyebrow to the left upper lip and a massive scar on the left side of his neck. The golbin smiled at the pair with his teeth visible; several teeth appeared broken in the right side of his mouth.

Seeing the goblin smile at them, Sirius, and Ares following his instruction, bowed to him, indicating respect.

The goblin gave a short, sharp nod and gestured to the chairs in front of him. "Lord Black. Heir Ares"

The pair of them occupied the chairs as Sirius returned the greeting. "Account Manager Bladenail."

The goblin stared them down with an appraising look before asking "What business do you have with Gringotts today, Lord Black?"

"I wish to perform an inheritance test for my son, Ares James Black."

"The test will cost you twelve hundred galleons" came the swift reply. Sirius nodded. Goblins were greedy creatures. The price quoted was enough for a normal working family to live for three years. Most people would never be able to spend such a sum on a single test which did not absolutely guarantee an inheritance.

"Please proceed, and take out the payment from my personal vault." replied Sirius.

Bladenail took out a piece of parchment from a drawer in his desk and placed it on the table. It was a light shade of blue with what appeared to be runic circles present on it. Then, he took out a ritual bowl, with similar runes, and dagger placed it in front of Sirius. The sides of the bowl where etched with Phoenician runes. Sirius had studied runes for his NEWTS but even he could not decipher most of them at first sight.

Bladenail gestured towards the bowl. "Please blood the dagger with your son's, and call for his family magic to arise."

Sirius looked at his son who had a curious expression on his face. "Ares, do ask Bladenail asked and pass the dagger to me. I should warn you that it might hurt."

Ares nodded at him, his expression a little scared at the thought of getting hurt, as he held the dagger in his left arm. Placing his right palm, he ran the dagger across it, wincing as a shot of pain shot up in his spine. He then handed the bloodied dagger to his father, who gingerly held it before dropping it into the bowl.

"Now, hold the palm over the bowl." Bladenail instructed, and Ares obeyed. He held his now injured palm, which hurt a lot, over the ritual bowl. The goblin began chanting obscure incantations with both of his hands over the bowl, looking rather scary as the runes and his eyes glowed with a mild light. However, Ares felt his father's hand on his shoulder, and felt his determination rise. As he continued to hold his bloodied palm steady over the ritual bowl while the goblin chant continued, magic manifested inside the bowl in a burst of crimson flames. It felt funny, but he could almost feel his injury heal and soon, the pain disappeared.

"It is time." The goblin replied finally, stopping his chant.

Sirius nudged him, and Ares knew what to say.

Taking a deep breath and focusing on the crimson flames within the bowl, he uttered "Familius Magicus!"

As soon as Ares finished the incantation, the crimson roared with power, the flames encompassing Ares's palm. The flames did not scorch him. Instead, they seemed to accumulated over his hand and flow across it like a river.

Sirius, and Ares watched the flames with a spellbound intensity while Bladenail frowned at feeling the magic around him. It almost seemed to devour his magic but the magic left him as if he was… unwanted. Bladenail's frowned deepened at the thought.

Sirius felt the flames as he kept his gaze on Ares, watching for any signs of discomfort. As a few seconds passed by, Sirius felt a magic tugging at his core. He recoiled at the feeling, but before he could identify it, the magic disappeared leaving him feeling the way he did when his mother screamed at him and told him he was a disgrace to the House of Black. Sirius frowned at his thoughts, not realising Bladenail had a similar frown on his face.

The flames burned vivaciously on Ares' arm and, after a few seconds, launched a burst of flames towards the air above the parchment. At first, the burst appeared a to be a stormy-grey color, before changing into a bright gold and fell down on the parchment with a series of golden runes manifesting themselves on the parchment. The crimson flames flickered for a moment and this time, black flames burst out of it and fell down on the parchment, causing another set of black runes on the parchment. The third time, it was green, and green runes manifested themselves on the parchment. The crimson flames flickered, appearing angry for a moment, before they died out leaving a fresh palm without any wound.

Sirius and Ares stared at the palm held over the bowl for a moment too long before a polite cough drew their attention to the goblin. Ares blushed as he withdrew his palm at placed it on his lap.

"That was interesting!" Bladenail commented, not yet looking at the parchment as he stared at Ares.

"The three different rune sets?" Sirius asked, wondering which family magic Ares had awakened.

"No. The flame turning grey." Bladenail replied, causing an eyebrow to raise on Sirius and curiosity to light in Ares' eyes. "It seemed as if your son's blood contains another form of family magic within him, but for some reason, it was inhibited from expressing itself."

Sirius frowned at the words as wondered if there was something capable of hindering family magics from manifesting. He had never come across any spell or ritual that was capable of causing such, even in the infamous Black family library. "Something hindering it?"

Bladenail gave a throaty laugh. "You wizards!" The scorn in his tone was sharp. "Such magic cannot be suppressed. Especially family magic. If it is not showing itself, it means that your son, for reasons I do not know, was deemed as unworthy. Hence, the momentary flicker of grey."

"What family magic is symbolized by the grey flames?"

Bladenail looked sharply at him, a knowing smirk on his face, and answered. "Peverell." A strange emphasis on the name.

Sirius took in a sharp breath at the word. That name. James' puzzle. The Peverell family. For some reason, the word came back repeatedly into their lives.

Sirius had spent the years after leaving Britain searching for clues to James's puzzle and the Peverell family. While he spent time on deciphering the puzzle and making some progress with the "Tale of the Three Brothers" and stories found on the Elder Wand, all he found on the Peverell family were legends. Necromancers. Battle-mages. Monsters. Master craftsman. Many stories seemed to contradict each other while others were downright fabrications. The few bits and pieces that he found to be true were some obscure references to a battle whose actors were lost to history. The thought that he might never solve the puzzle had kept him up at nights. Now, he finds that Ares had Peverell family magic which had judged him to be unworthy. It made him want to bash his skull against the table.

"However," Bladenail continued, oblivious to Sirius's thoughts and feelings. "we do have some interesting news over here." He smirked at the pair in amusement as he held out the parchment towards Sirius, whose eyebrows rose high enough to vanish behind his locks of hair as he started at the words on the parchment.

The parchment had undergone a change, the manifested runes translating themselves into three familial crests. Beneath the three crests were words in a beautiful lyrical script.

! The Noble and Ancient House of Potter!

! The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black!

! The Noble and Most Ancient House of Slytherin!

Ares, as soon as he could spot the words, went into a state of shock. He knew his ancestry; Sirius had made it a point to explain to him about the Potter and Black family lineage alongside his mother's. Yet, in all those lessons, he had never once heard of any member of the Slytherin line marrying into the Potter and Black families. And seeing that he was the Inheritor of the Slytherin Lordship when Voldemort had proclaimed himself as 'The Heir of Slytherin' had brought shock to his face before morphing into grim amusement at the Dark wanker's reaction when he heard of this… tragedy. Ares nearly giggled at the thought.

"Slytherin?" Sirius was completely gob smacked. "My son is the heir of Slytherin?"

"You seem surprised." Bladenail asked, amusement coloring his voice.

"I am." Sirius answered, his tone sounding more like a demand. "He was born a Potter. The Potters do not have any ties to Slytherin. Even we Blacks do not have any connections to the family. The only family to have any kind of connection to them were the Gaunts, but the family went extinct in the male line."

"What about his mother?" asked Bladenail.

'She was a muggleborn." Sirius replied offhandedly.

"You wizards, always close-minded. Muggleborns are nothing but descendants of squibs of ancient families-" Bladenail began, but was cut off by Sirius.

"I know that, but the Slytherin line went extinct over eight hundred years ago. So-" Sirius' words were cut off by Bladenail's next comment.

"The family magic of Slytherin is tied to The green eyes."

Sirius sharply looked at Ares who stared at his father, his emerald eyes shining brightly as usual. Bladenail continued, "Whenever the green eyes manifest themselves, the family magic arises. The Slytherin family magic is parasitic, usually feeding on other family magics to grow stronger, if the user was unable to provide the necessary magical power. That is the reason why the Slytherin Lords were always the most powerful of their generation."

"You mean that unless my son becomes powerful in his own right, his Slytherin magic will feed upon his other family magics to make him powerful?"

Bladenail smirked. "Everything has a price, Lord Black. The Slytherin magic craves power. So, either your son has to be powerful enough to sedate its hunger, or, he will slowly lose his other family magicks and be a Slytherin Lord only, albeit a rather powerful one."

Sirius let the humbling realization wash over him as his right arm moved to hold Ares' left. Ares gripped back just as hard at the words the goblin had spoken. "Who was the last Slytherin Lord?"

"I might be wrong, but in all probability, it must have been Shezar Slytherin, the son of Salazar Slytherin. He died almost eight hundred years ago, in a battle which obliterated the Slytherin lineage. Obviously, some descendant must have survived whose family squibbed out, which explains how his mother was a muggleborn-" Bladenail sneered at the ignorant word used by wizards. "-and your son is now exhibiting the same green eyes."

"His mother also had those eyes, but while she was powerful, but nothing to suggest her Slytherin lineage." Sirius said, a measure of intensity in his voice.

"The Slytherin Magic is patrilineal. A female cannot reign or procure the family magic; only the males have that opportunity." Bladenail answered in response.

Sirius nodded and turned to look Ares, who was looking back at him with worry in his eyes. Sirius gave him a soft smile which lessened the worry in his son's eyes. Turning back to the Account Manager, he asked "Will Ares be able to enter the vaults?"

"The family Vault, No. The heirloom and trust vaults. Yes." Bladenail responded promptly.

"Trust vaults?" Sirius felt confused at the words. While he knew parents who were well-off would provide their children with trust vaults to teach them to manage their expenses, this was the first time he heard of a trust vault system being used over a thousand years ago.

"Now that your son has proved himself to be the Slytherin heir, he has the right to a trust Vault, as has been the clear rule specified by the Slytherin Family Charter."

Sirius inclined his head. "My son doesn't have need for the trust vault at the moment, but we would like an accounting of the Slytherin vaults and Properties. Also, I would like an accounting of the Potter vaults and investments so far."

"As you wish. Will be it all right if we send you the gathered information within the next seven days by owl?"

"That should be fine. Thank you. I would like to visit the heirloom vault along with my son."

"You cannot, only your son can."

Sirius sighed, knowing his protests would be of no use. "Very well. Please proceed."

Every branch of Gringotts was interconnected with each other through a complex charm and enchantments applied to their banks and the subterranean tunnels. There were a total of nine branches in Magical Europe and all of them were magically synchronised and connected. Many witches and wizards who had witnessed the magic had tried to replicate it without success. When the ICW had tried to pressure the goblins to share their secrets, the goblins had threatened to revolt, temporarily shutting down the magical population's source of money. This had the ICW back down while the goblins resumed their banking services. Still, efforts continued around the world, trying to understand and replicate the system.

Sirius and Ares, accompanied by a goblin teller, travelled via cart all the way down into the deepest trenches beneath the ground. The cart drove past ancient vaults and the dragons guarding them; Ares had been gobsmacked at seeing an actual dragon guarding an underground vault. As the cart reached the deeper recessed of the network, it began to slow down before coming to a complete halt they arrived at their destination.

As the three left the cart, the teller led them to an ancient looking black door. It looked to be twice times as big as most vaults tended to be and the gleamed with a strange iridescent green glow. The door was adorned with a massive crest of a coiled basilisk on a solid green shield.

The Slytherin Family held three Vaults at the Bank; The Family vault, a Trust Vault and a Treasury and Heirloom vault, which apparently contained the heirlooms and artefacts belonging to the Family. Since Ares was still underage, he was restricted from accessing the Family Vault and Sirius had declared that he wasn't going to need a trust vault. So they had arrived at the destination needed for today.

The Treasury and Heirloom vault.

Father and son stood in front of the vault, with the goblin teller walking forward and pushing a set of keys into the absurdly complicated locks at the door. With a hiss, the locks opened, revealing a tiny pedestal, with an engraving on it, in the shape of a human palm.

"Press your palm on the pedestal, child." The goblin teller replied in a bored tone.

With a nod from Sirius, Ares walked up and reluctantly put his palm on the rocky surface. As he felt something prick his palm, the pedestal glowed with ambient energies. Whatever had occurred seemed to be positive, since there was a louder hiss and the main door opened, revealing the contents of the vault to the trio.

There was a narrow entrance, allowing a single person to enter at a time. From the view outside, the vault – it looked more like a large chamber than a simple vault - seemed to be filled with aisles of parchment, packages and goblin armour on both stone and wooden furniture.

Ares stepped inside, feeling a rush of magic as he entered the vault. He turned back, hoping for his father to join him, but Sirius just stood where he was, nodding at him to move ahead. Ares nodded back hesitantly, before progressing towards the centre of the chamber.

In the centre of the chamber, surrounded by all the treasures was a pedestal, with a massive tome, bound in simple leather with the Slyhterin crest present on it. This must be the Slytherin Grimoire, Ares thought, remembering the lessons his father had taught him about magical families and Grimoires. The tomes, a collection of knowledge that had passed through the family for generations or the collective knowledge of a particular witch or wizard, were protected with Family magick, allowing none but those of the blood to peruse through its contents. It was in these grimoires that the theory behind the specific Family magick was present, along with several additions to the knowledge hoard that the previous Lords made for future generations.

Remembering his lessons on the protections surrounding such tomes, Ares felt fear at touching it. Turning to glance his father who sent him an encouraging smile, he turned back towards the tome. Taking a fortifying breath, he extended his hand towards the surface of the tome. The moment his palm touched the grimoire, he felt another jet of familiar energy pervade through his body. Almost instinctively, he picked up the tome, which felt surprisingly light despite its look. An emerald-green mist manifested all around him and wrapped around his magical core, entwining itself in a serpentine fashion, as Ares's eyes glowed with a mysterious eldritch green.

Two days later, at Black Manor.

"Ares? What's wrong?"

Ares safely ignored his father's eyes. There was no way he could lie and look into his father's eyes at the same time. He gently picked up Scylla and caressed her. "What do you mean, Pad?"

They were currently in the garden behind the kitchen. Ares had taken to spending time with the adder who recognised him as a friend and his father had found him after the day's parchment work was complete.

"You have changed. Ever since we visited the Slytherin Vault, you are… silent. What's bugging you, son?" Sirius asked, his voice low and tinged his worry.

Ares frowned as he stared at his father. He knew Pad was right. He was brooding since their visit to Gringotts and his lineage was revealed. But he just didn't want to worry his father by telling him. Now, he knew he couldn't get away with a lie or an evasion. Mentally sighing, he gave in. "I was… thinking about what the goblin said." He paused for a moment. "About my Slytherin magic and stuff, you know."

Sirius's jaws clenched at the answer. Ever since their visit, his son had spent time brooding around the house. He too was worried about the truth they heard. "What about it?"

"Is it… you know, is it going to eat all my magic? Will I also become like… like Voldemort?" Ares asked, fear sounding through his voice.

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "What brought that on?" While he wanted to hug Ares and tell him not to worry, he knew this issue addressed before it got out of hand.

Ares looked at him defiantly. "I read, you know. I read all about the Dark War after finishing Mum's journal. Voldemort was almost like a half-man, half-snake at the end. Will I also… you know…" The fear of turning into the Dark Lord was clearly visible on his face.

Giving in to his urge, Sirius knelt down and hugged his son hard. "Understand this, Ares. You will never become anything like that… that man. Besides, having Slytherin magic doesn't mean that you will-"

Sirius stopped his argument midway as it hit him. While he knew Ares was worried about the Slytherin family magick, he was also taught about the ignorance regarding Light and Dark magic and how intent could change the properties of a spell and differentiate between good and evil mages. But for some reason, Ares felt this fear with far too much belief that he would turn into a Dark Lord. Drawing back from his son, he asked "Ares, tell me what happened. Is something wrong?"

Ares looked away. And Sirius realised his suspicions were true. Something was driving this fear.

"Ares..." Sirius repeated sternly.

No answer. Ares remained quiet

"Ares, tell me what's wrong."

Slowly, the eight-year-old matched eyes with his father as bright emerald eyes locked with steel-gray. "Ever since I have, you know… held the Slytherin grimoire in my hands… I can… I can do this." He held out his hands, as his eyes glowed, and a greenish hue materialised all around him before condensing into a serpentine shape as it entwined all around his arms.

The sight took Sirius's breath away. "Is that the-"

"Slytherin magic, I think. I could, you know, feel my magical core today while I meditated in the balcony. And this… thing, it was encircling all around it."

"It is feeding upon your magic." Sirius realized with horror, standing up and stepping back subconsciously - a reaction that didn't do anything to help Ares's growing fear.

"Pad! What does this mean for us, now?" Ares asked, his fear multiplying at the expression on his father's face.

Sirius just stood, transfixed in horror.

"Pad?" There was genuine fear in Ares's voice.

"It means that I was wrong." Sirius finally spoke, grief and anger coloring his voice. "It means that you will never be able to have the ordinary and fun-filled life that I wanted you to have."

He hugged his son who hugged him back tightly, trying to hold back the tears threatening to fall. "However, we are marauders, right son? We take what we deserve, and if not, we snatch it. This... Slytherin family magic, it is powerful and parasitic. If you do not increase your magical powers, it will someday take over your family magics from you. And I won't let that happen."

Ares felt dreadful. "What will we do, Pad?"

"We train, son." Sirius said with complete certainty. He knew this was the only way to prevent what would happen. While he hated to let Ares's childhood be filled with training and learning dangerous magic, he also didn't want his son to lose the legacy of his families. "Specifically, you train. I will traverse heaven and earth if I have to, but you will get your training and grow up to become the powerful wizard you are born to be. We will make you so skilled and powerful that your Slytherin magick will become stable in itself. You are my heir, and I will be damned if Slytherin takes away from you your heritage and your family magick. I will not let that happen!"

Ares looked up at his father. He knew that the matter was extremely serious for his father to be so stern. He had never seen him like this before. It was as if his Pad was possessed with some ruthless determination to make something happen.

Ares nodded and hugged his father. His Pad, he reminded himself. His dad and mum were all fine and loved him, but his Pad was the best father ever.

The next day, father and son found themselves in the magical town of Vratsa, walking through the main street. Vratsa was located on the eastern edge of Bulgaria bordering the Black Sea. The town, due to its vast community and one particular resident, was a regularly chosen portal to the Durmstrang Institute. Unlike Hogwarts, Durmstrang was based on a mobile platform that held the school. Due to its nature and the paranoid security measures implemented by the Founder, Nerida Vulchanova, and subsequent headmasters and headmistresses, the school moved from place to place every few years. This year, it was somewhere near Scandinavia. Originally, the Institute was near Vratsa but the terrorist attacks executed by the illusive organization known as the Black Death had forced the Institute to move for its safety. The Bulgarian Ministry was actively working against these forces, but the situation was far from acceptable. Despite all the turmoil, as far as Vratsa was concerned, the shifting of Durmstrang meant less customers, and thus the streets were far more silent than they usually would be.

Sirius Black and his son Ares walked down the main lane that led to the particular reason the town was a regular portal to the Institute for the past few decades. The pair approached the shop of one of Magical Europe's most venerated wandcrafters - Mykew Gregorovitch, a contemporary and competitor of Garrick Ollivander, who was the premier wand maker of magical Britain. However, unlike Ollivander, Mykew Gregorovitch was known to craft customised wands for those who could afford it.

While wand crafting was the preferred choice in several parts of Magical Europe, it was frowned upon in Magical Britain, since the process used to craft a wand personalised it to the user, severely inhibiting the ability of the Trace used by the British Ministry of Magic. However, the Bulgarian Ministry regulated use of underage magic by a different set of protocols and thus, had no issues with wandcrafting as an occupation.

Passing the edge of town and turning towards a small hillock in the distance, father and son stopped before the rather large shop in front of them. The store looked to be very old with the name "Gregorovitch" carved on a wodden plaque hung next to the door and a couple of wands placed inside the glass display next to the door. Entering inside, Ares could instantly feel the change in the air around him, which seemed saturated with the ambient magic of the area. Must be the wands, he decided, before he squashed away the tiny bit of discomfort he had been feeling, and fell into steps with his father.

The interior of the store was extremely Spartan. There were a couple of chairs on the left and right walls, presumably for customers while a counter with writing tools and vials with a single chair stood in front of the wall opposite the entrance. A door to the left of the counter was closed while a corridor on the right appeared to lead to a well-lit room.

The single chair in the room was occupied by an old man hunched over the counter, writing on a piece of parchment. As Sirius and Ares neared him, he looked up and Ares was startled at the eyes looking at him. At first glance, they appeared to be the same. But as he examined them closely, he found them to a light forest green with ocean blue flecks.

"Ah, new customers." The old man seated behind the counter remarked with a gleeful expression before his old eyes recognized the elder of the two standing on the other side of the counter.

"Lord Black." He whispered, his accent deepening his voice, making it harder for Ares to distinguish the words. "—it has been a long time."

"So it has." Sirius nodded. He had come to Gregorovitch six years ago, when he had wanted to acquire a customized wand. Not that he had any issues with his own, but the benefits of using a custom-made wand were too good to be ignored. Considering the state of affairs in the country, it was always beneficial to acquire every single asset he could get his hands on - after all, nothing was more important than his son's protection.

"I wish to acquire a wand for my son, Ares." Sirius gestured towards his son.

The wandcrafter raised his eyebrows as he pushed his old bones up, trying to extend his neck as much as humanly possible without standing up, trying to see the little boy standing next to the formidable man he knew as the Lord Black. Failing dismally, he muttered a soft expletive under his breath as he stood up. "You know there are rumours coming from your home in Britain. I wonder if there is some shred of truth in them."

"There is a time for rumours, Mykew." Sirius retorted stiffly, "But now is not one of those times. My son, Ares James Black, needs a custom-made wand."

The old man preened towards the little boy. "Forgive me, Lord Black, but is he… well, of age yet?"

"He is not, but I was sure I could persuade you to craft something for him." Sirius countered.

"I would…" Gregorovitch replied, "But as you know, selling an underage a custom-made wand… especially under the present state of affairs… I am sure someone of your stature can understand."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. It seemed Gregorovitch was out to fish at the opportunity. "Of course I do, but unfortunately, both me and my son are in a hurry. We need to visit one of our properties at the Balkans, and although the wandcrafter there is quite... famous, we wanted to get Ares his first wand from you. I am sure someone of your stature can understand."

Gregorovitch flashed a sour look for a moment, completely missing the surprised look that the boy gave his father about the announcement regarding the visit to the Balkans, as he forced himself to smile. "Yes, of course, but I think I could make an exception for young… Ares, was it?" He looked sweetly at the little boy for a moment before his eyes caught the boy's right hand.

"He has had the inheritance ritual? Already?" Gregorovitch could see the Heir ring worn by Ares.

That was… rare. Usually, heirs of ancient families were taken to perform the ritual after their magic matured for the first time, which was usually at ten years of age. There was a reason after all, that magical schools began educating the young witches and wizards one they turned eleven. After their first maturity, the cores were stabilised enough to officially cast standard spells and provided them the opportunity to begin controlling their power.

"Ares is… special." Sirius returned, wondering if the wandcrafter could detect anything from his voice.

Gregorovitch glanced back at Sirius, a sharp, intelligent look in his eyes. "You do understand that for custom wands, the wizard in question should be able to feel his core."

Sirius nodded. "He has been able to feel his core for a… while."

Gregorovitch's left eye twitched at the evasive nature of his customer. "Very well," He nodded at Ares, "please follow me."

The old wandcrafter walked through the open corridor of his shop while Ares and Sirius followed him swiftly behind. Arriving at the well-lit room which contained a door on the left wall leading to an unknown part of the shop, a table with measuring implements, some parchment and a letter-pad, a dagger, a few wood pieces, some devices of unknown purpose and a couple of vials along with a couple of shelves of boxes filled with wands, the wandcrafter took a tiny vial from the table and presented it to the boy in front of him. "I will need three drops of your blood for this."

Ares glanced at his father for a moment, who nodded back, before he looked up at the old man and nodded. Gregorovitch took his wand out and placed it on Ares's extended thumb, as a tiny incision appeared on the surface. Ivan neatly collected three drops before he applied a healing charm, the incision had vanishing completely in a matter of seconds. Gregorovitch waved his wand towards some of the devices on the table next to him. A measuring tape jumped to life and before Ares could do anything, it was already measuring his arm length, his height and, strangely, the length of his nose. Once it was apparently satisfied, the tape flew back to the table as scribbles formed on the letter-pad just next to the tape. Gregorovitch put away his wand and snatched the pad from the table, before turning to his customers.

"This part, you cannot watch." Gregorovitch replied solemnly. "Please wait outside near the counter. I will be right back." He cast a final look at the boy in front of him before spinning around and walking away furiously, leaving a confused Ares Black behind, alone with his father. A door leading to some room known only to the wandcrafter shut behind him.

After an approximate duration of forty minutes, a sudden noise inside the wand shop attracted the pair's attention towards the corridor, finding the odd wandcrafter returning back to the counter, holding a thin, long rectangular brown box in his hands.

Sirius and Ares got up from their seats on the right wall and approached the wandcrafter who sat down in his chair. He looked to be tired but had a proud smile on his face.

"I took my time." The wandcrafter confessed to his customers. "I would never rush the process of wand creation, especially one such as this one." The old man placed the tiny, long box carefully over the counter and opened it. Inside, enclosed within a layer of purple silk cloth, was a thick, cylindrical piece of white wood with pores along the length of it, with the hilt fitted with an ivory casing.

Gregorovitch reverentially held the wand with both hands and presented it to Ares hilt-first. Ares felt his right hand move to grab it, almost as if it had a life of its own. The moment he did plucked the wand from Gregorovitch's hands, a wave of magic forced its way through the wood pores as the objects and air in the room began to vibrate. However, the wave of magic had disappeared just as quickly as its appeared.

"Wonderful!" The old wandcrafter clapped his hands gleefully, his eyes lit with childish joy. "A perfect match. I admit I had my doubts, but this settles it. You hold a very powerful wand in your hand, Mister Black."

"What does it contain?" Sirius dropped in, unable to hold back his curiosity at the reaction of the wand. While he knew of and had seen reactions of a wand pairing with its owner, this was the first time he had ever felt a reaction where the very air was saturated with magic and a strange feeling of foreboding.

"Heartstring of an ice-dragon." Gregorovitch answered, smiling at the surprise on Sirius' face and the joy and curiosity of Ares. "Yes, they do exist and it is extremely rare for any parts of it to be found on the market. I was most fortunate to have a single heartstring left behind as a family legacy from my great-grandfather. The wood is cut from a bowtruckle-infested Deathwood tree, hence the white color and the pores. A very queer, but powerful combination." His eyes turned to Ares. "Dragon heartstrings are cores known for their power, with a rather good affinity at binding to wand quality wood. Deathwood is an unusual choice since it is almost… inert against most magical substances, making it very hard to work with in any crafting process. However, your blood seemed to help the process considerably."

He paused for a moment.

"Despite the combination, or perhaps, because of it, the wand seems to ooze magical energy. Thus the ivory casing enveloping the wand. The ivory is made from the teeth of a Grim-" Ares and Sirius glanced at each other "-and it seemed to do a perfectly fine job of balancing the innate energy of the wand. However, the wand seems to be perfect for one specific job."

His eyes flickered to Ares. "To cause destruction."

"Excuse me?" Sirius countered, feeling his throat go dry. Ares cocked his head in thought at the wandcrafter's words.

"Forgive my poor choice of words," The wandcrafter back-pedalled seeing the reactions of his customers. "What I mean is, the core-wood composition yields maximum results only when used for offensive magics. It is a great weapon for battle, but a poor tool for constructive magic…an example for which could be transfiguration."

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "Couldn't you… make something that could… help him in learning constructive magic?"

Gregorovitch narrowed his eyes at Sirius and spoke with a hint of steel. "Pardon me, Lord Black, but it is not a question of will not but of cannot. Besides, the Blacks are famed for their affinity for destructive magic anyway. Surely, it is a familial thing."

Sirius weighed his options. Considering Gregorovitch's reputation for discretion, he sighed as he whipped his wand out and cast a couple of privacy charms all around them. Paranoid, but best not to let anyone in the vicinity know of anything they should not hear. "Ares is… well, when he was born, he had a different name."

"Harry Potter." Gregorovitch answered, much to Sirius's surprise which quickly morphed into a hardened expression. "Even for wandcrafters, the Boy-who-lived is a fascinating subject."

"Yes." Sirius replied, trying to keep a calm demeanour, and NOT cast an obliviation at the wandcrafter. "His dad had an affinity for transfiguration and his mother was a natural at charms. I am sure you understand my… concern finding that Harry Potter holds an inferior wand when it comes to those magics."

"Mister Black," Gregorovitch's voice shifted to a slightly stern tone, his voice hardening at Sirius' words. "It is imperative that you understand that a child is, not necessarily, the sum of their parents. It is quite natural for someone like… Ares to hold affinities towards a branch of magic entirely different from that of his birth-parents."

"I do not disagree with your-" Sirius began, but Gregorovitch cut him off.

"However, I do understand your worries about young Ares, and that brings me to my next point. His blood," Gregorovitch replied, nodding his head towards Ares, "is highly tuned towards dragon heartstrings, cores famous for their power. Contradictorily, it matched with none of the woods in my collection except the Deathwood, a wood infamous for its near magically inert properties. As unfortunate as it is, I cannot be of any help."

Sirius sighed. It was worth a try. A thought rose in his mind, as he looked up with a bright smile towards the wandcrafter. "My son needs to learn magic due to…various concerns. And I'm not sure if I want his magic tracked by the Bulgarian Ministry. I was thinking if you could help me in that respect…"

Gregorovitch's eyes widened as a grin formed on his wizened face.

Mykew Gregorovitch had not been not joking about the wand's prowess. It was a devastating tool when it came to offensive magics. Sirius had written down a list of basic elemental curses, jinxes and hexes for Ares to learn. And the eight-year-old had cast each and every one of them successfully. The wand reacting on instinct to his son's command, as though it was tune with his very core and mind. However, when it came to transfiguring a simple matchstick into a needle, Ares had failed in his first eight attempts before he succeeded in his task. It was exhilarating, and disappointing at the same time. The wand was near useless when it came to standard, constructive magic, just like the wandcrafter had mentioned. It left Sirius wondering if he had taken the wrong decision by choosing to get a custom-made wand over a standard one. But before he could reach any conclusion, his grandfather's words rose in his mind…

The opposite of courage is not fear, but conformity. Even a dead fish can go with the flow.

The words had simplified his choice. He could either allow Ares to use a standard, inferior wand for the rest of his life, or give him the best weapon suited to him and let him think his way out of the difficulties. Days and weeks passed by, and Ares had successfully cast curses that even third-year Hogwarts students would have struggled with. Sirius couldn't explain it to himself, but there was something about his son's ability with magic. The boy wasn't always able to pick up the spell on the first try. But when he did, it was almost as if he was casting the spell for over a decade. It drove him nuts. The boy could cast offensive spells consistently with skill on par with hit wizards or Battle-mages, but struggled to cast a basic healing charm.

After a tedious three months of desperate attempts, Sirius was out of his wits. Ares had, miraculously, progressed to Hexes that would have put a fourth-year to shame, but he wasn't able to keep up with the basic transfiguration spells that Mcgonagall usually taught during the initial months of the first-year at Hogwarts. It was potentially worrisome. While Ares held a good offence, Transfiguration was the best way for a wizard to learn control over his core and magic distribution while also improving their ability to control the amount of power distributed to a spell. He refused to believe that Ares lacked skill, and thus blamed the wand for his son's struggles. He still smiled at his son, but wasn't so foolish as to miss the painful, mirthless smile his son would send him when trying to cast a transfiguration spell.

"What do I do, James? I am trying to do my best to keep the promise I gave you, but Ares is still having problems." Sirius laughed mirthlessly. "It's ironic, you know. Back then, we had bet that your son would be a natural at Transfiguration, and I had voted on Defence. And now look at him." He cast a glance at a very irritated Ares Black whipping his wand over a pillow, trying to transfigure it into a pincushion, but failing dismally. "He reminds me so much of you, you know James… though he has Lily's stubbornness in him. I was almost sure that his wand would be just like yours-"

His throat constricted and his eyes widened as a thought entered his mind. "Of course, of course!" He cried out gleefully, before racing into the manor, ignoring the surprised reaction from his son who was left behind in the garden, wondering what had happened.

Sirius raced down the main hallway, up the stairs and went straight to his room. Activating a hidden room on the left wall, he opened the door, went in and came out dragging a trunk out with him. He had nearly forgotten that he had placed James' wand inside the trunk. Rummaging through the contents, he finally found the old mahogany wand enclosed in a red silk shroud. Lifting it up, he closed the trunk and raced out, crying for Ares as loud as he could.

"Pad! Pad, what's wrong?" Ares questioned, panting as he stood in the hallway below the stairs. He had heard his father's shouts and ran towards the source as fast as humanly possible. Seeing his father stand in front of him, panting and holding a… different wand in hand, he scrunched his face. "What's with the wand?"

"This is…" Sirius panted, "This is your dad's wand, Ares."

"Take a breath, Pad." Ares ushered.

Sirius grinned but continued nevertheless. "This is your dad's wand. Dragon heartstring and mahogany. I want you to try it."

Ares looked positively gleeful at that. He snatched the wand from Sirius and held it in his left hand, since his white wand was still in his right hand. A wave of magical power permeated through him as he held the mahogany wand. It was different when compared to his own wand, unlike his own wand which was cold and forbidding, this one had a more… comforting and warm touch, almost like an evening breeze or the warm feeling of the sun on his face.

"Can I- Did it-?" Ares asked, half-unsure of what happened, and half-dreading that it might mean nothing at all.

"Cast with it." Sirius replied with a smile, praying to any gods up there that the wand would work. He waved his own wand, summoning a pillow from the living room to his hand.

Ares nodded at his father and swished the mahogany wand towards the pillow before flicking it at a forty-five-degree angle, picturing the pincushion in his mind as he intoned. "Mutatio."

He opened his eyes, realising that he had closed them while he cast the spell. To his absolute delight, there in his father's hand, was a pink pincushion instead of the fluffy cotton pillow. His sight moved further upwards as he witnessed the tears of happiness roll down his father's cheek.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: (22-12-2017) Quick update schedule, eh.. Don't worry about it. It slows down and speeds up at our whim. But, as my fellow author says, we will finish the fic soon. We do have a nice deadline this time.

Now, for the new addition to our acting roster.

MYKEW GREGOROVITCH - RADE ŠERBEDŽIJA

Skadarken: We had no arguments there. Especially since we may or may not use him later.

Please, don't believe my unimaginative author. I always have plans for our characters. I just… don't know them yet.

Skadarken: Right… Says the guy with a hundred changes a minute. Don't worry, people. I'm keeping him in line. At least, I think I am. Hopefully.

Ah… Fine. Here's some of the plan for the fic. Dumbledore shall begin distributing information like candy. Voldemort shall begin firing cheering charms as punishment. And Bellatrix shall hug my fellow au-

*BANG*

Skadarken: *Ejects the spent shell from the barrel* Those were some disturbing images. Especially the last. *Shudders in fear* I hope you're not mentally scarred people. Enjoy the upcoming chapters.