August 22,1989.
The Black Manor.
Sirius Black sat on the chair behind the Lord's desk of his grandfather's study. Nearly eight years had passed since the day his grandfather died, and he had taken on the responsibilities of Lord Black. Yet, he could not help but associate this room with the now deceased Baron Black. Every time he walked in here, he expected to see his grandfather sitting at the desk, his trademark severe look on his face. Sometimes, he believed he heard his grandfather's voice in the study. He would shake off the feeling, knowing the former Lord Black did not leave a ghost or a portrait imprint. The only image left of Arcturus was a static portrait that sat on the wall to the left of the desk in the study.
He may not have always seen eye-to-eye with his grandfather, but he had always respected him. Arcturus Black was a strict and disciplined individual. The members of the Wizengamot held Baron Black in high respect for his incredible political acumen. He was highly feared by several factions for his suspected links to several dark organisations and command of Dark Magic. But he had always been a caring man towards his family. He may have been strict, but he had always given them the freedom to choose his path.
Sirius would always be reminded of his grandfather whenever he laid his eyes on his son. Ares might share his and James' penchant for pranking and Lily's passion for magic, but his personality reminded him of his grandfather. Sirius was astounded when he began teaching Ares the in and out politics. Despite all the grumbling on the subject, his son had extremely good instincts for politics. Ares could run circles around him in debates and soundly dismantle counter-arguments. Sirius could not wait for the day when his son took up his seats on the Wizengamot. The overpaid fossils would not know what hit them. The thought always brought a grin to his face.
Realising his mind was wandering, Sirius shoved his thoughts into the back of his mind. Right now, there was a problem sitting in front of him. A problem he did not know how to deal with. A problem, he believed, that should not even be alive.
"So Sirius, what do you think about my proposition?" A cultured, female voice asked him. It held an undercurrent of amusement, steel and a hint of madness.
Sirius stared at the woman sitting on the other side of the desk, dressed in expensive robes cut for a duelling frame. His grey eyes flicked over Cassiopeia Virgo Black, sister of Arcturus Orion Black, and his grand-aunt. During the Great War that tore Europe during the 30's and early 40's, the woman was considered one of the world's leading authority on the Dark Arts, and one of Gellert Grindelwald's chief enforcers. She was believed to have died during the final days of the war, a week before the Dark Lord's defeat at the hands of Dumbledore. Yet, here she sat, in full health, with an offer to teach the Dark Arts to his son.
Sirius mentally groaned.
Over the past year, he had done his very best to teach Ares anything and everything that he decided was safe for the boy to learn. Then again, safe was a matter of perspective, since the boy was an absolute prodigy at the offensive arts. Ignoring his surprise and scepticism at Ares's learning ability, Sirius had gone ahead and taught him everything he could teach him. Now, after a year of private instruction, the nine-year-old was the equivalent to a NEWT student in DADA, while the rest of his subjects were at the level of a second-year.
However, Ares had always had problems with control over his magical core and power. While his training in Transfiguration provided him better control over his magic, his lack of aptitude of the subject hindered his efforts. While he rapidly accelerated in his studies of the offensive arts, they rarely taught a wizard or witch to control or their magic or mature their magical core without significant stability issues.
Sirius had researched several fields that help Ares with his shortcomings and allow him to gain control over the Slytherin Family Magick before it consumed his heritage. In the end, Sirius realised there was one field which suited his son's natural affinities and teach him to control his magical reserves while vastly improving his power. Unfortunately, Sirius was not a fan of the field. The very field that the Blacks were famed throughout Europe for.
The Dark Arts.
Modern day witches and wizards tended to classify most offensive magics, rituals and several esoteric arts as Dark Magic. Adept practitioners of the magical arts claimed that magic was neither light nor dark, that it was all a matter of perspective and based on the intent of the user. Contrary to their beliefs, true Dark Magic existed. An entire branch of magic dedicated to the worship of power and tended to corrupt the practitioner. These arts were very good at amplifying the user's natural magical strength and improving their reserves of magic, while their inherent nature compelled the user to rely on them frequently, which was one of the main reasons the arts were shunned. The other reason was the overwhelming emphasis on the destructive forces. After all, there was a reason that the term 'Dark Lord' was coined. Hence, all students of the Dark Arts were heavily trained in the Mind Arts to ensure they did not succumb to the temptation. Still, many practitioners eventually fell to the allure. Fortunately, or unfortunately as Sirius would say, his grandaunt was one of the few with the necessary mental fortitude to retain her sanity.
After continuing to stare at her amused smile for a minute, Sirius asked, steel coating his voice. "I will ask you again, Aunt Cassie. How did you know that I would require such services?"
Cassiopeia gave a throaty laugh. "You are still the same ignorant child I remember, Sirius. We are family; There are bonds and paths you do not yet understand." She winked at him, earning a scowl. "However, if it helps, I came across this information from someone that holds your good as his highest priority. I could swear an oath to that effect."
Sirius scowled at her non-answer. "And what makes you think that I will allow my son to be indoctrinated into Grindelwald's ideology?"
Cassiopeia scoffed. Her brother's grandson could be infuriating at times. "Oh, stop being such a baby, Sirius. You know very well that young Ares's situation can only be solved by the Dark Arts and nothing else. Besides, he is a Black and we Blacks need to learn the Dark Arts, especially since it is an important component of our Family Magick. Would you rather let him self-study, or worse, taught by some worthless amateur and let him succumb to the allure or… the haze?"
Sirius felt his throat go dry. His grandfather had lectured about the haze during his time spent at the Black Manor training in the Family or wizards with immense affinity for the Dark Arts could suffer from their magical core being heavily destabilised, becoming extraordinarily powerful at the cost of their sanity, turning them into mere berserkers relying purely on destructive magic. This condition was known as the haze.Once the person was affected by the haze, no level of proficiency in the Mind Arts would help them fight it. In all his battles, he knew of only two who had willingly succumbed to the haze.
Lord Voldemort and Bellatrix Black.
Sirius knew about the condition, and was very afraid of Ares succumbing to it. It was the main reason he had not taught him any of the family spells or even the most basic foundations of the Dark Arts. While he would have loved to find an instructor, he knew the chances of finding one who did not suffer from the haze were slim at best. Adding to the problem was that most people who possessed a high level of proficiency in these arts tended to stay hidden.
Now, he had the solution to his problem sitting in front of him, wearing a grin on her face.
Cassiopeia could see the gears turning in Sirius's head. Now she just had to push him a little more and he would agree to her request. "That's without mentioning the boy's affinity to the arts of destruction. I hear he's outstripped you in the field."
"How would you know?" Sirius barked.
Cassiopeia's grin widened at the show of emotion. "It doesn't matter. What matters right now is the situation my great-grandnephew is in." Expression turning severe, she asked "Do you want him to overcome the obstacles in his path or not?"
Sirius grit his teeth. She knew she was right and was taunting him with her information. Staring into her eyes, he asked "And what makes you so… sure that Ares will not fall into the same trap that Bella fell into?"
Cassiopeia rolled her eyes at the question. Merlin, help this kid! "Because it is me who will be teaching him. Bellatrix spent her time learning the arts from amateurs. I, on the other hand, am a Master in a field that is feared the world over. As long as he is diligent in following my instructions, he will not become a slave to the magics and retain his sense of self and his sanity. Besides, I am sure that as longas you are around the boy, there's a larger probability of him turning into a prankster than a full-scale dark wizard."
Sirius did not comment on her answer. He knew he had no other choice. He had a Dark Arts master sitting in his house and it would be idiotic not to make use of the chance he had. Heaving a sigh, he opened his mouth to answer only to be interrupted by his quest.
"I will be staying in my old quarters, since I don't think my frail self can afford anything different." Cassiopeia knew he had agreed. She could read the conclusion on his face. "If you are agreeable, then I will begin teaching him pronto."
Appearing as if Skele-gro had been forced down his throat, Sirius asked. "Answer me honestly, Aunt Cassie, and I will consider your proposal. Why are you trying so hard to offer your services to teach my son?"
Cassiopeia sighed. She could not give him the whole truth. She had a promise to uphold. A half-truth then. "Because… he has potential." She looked at Sirius in the eye. "Because he has potential the likes of which might never come again in the line of the Blacks."
"And?" Sirius asked. He knew that wasn't the reason, at least not all of it.
Cassiopeia scowled. Merlin help her if the kid was as stubborn as his son. "He also holds the blood of the Slytherin line." Sirius jumped in shock, but she ignored it. "It would be an absolute honour for a Slytherin alumni to teach a descendant of The Founder, one who will unite the Black and Slytherin Houses under a single banner, or even better, a clan."
Sirius sat in stunned silence, wondering how she came to know about Ares's heritage. Besides his two account managers at Gringotts, Sirius and Ares, the news was not spread beyond. It should have been impossible for her to find out about it.
"How do you know that?" Breaking out of his stupor, he screamed at the raven-haired woman. He did not reach for his wand, because he still had the presence of mind to understand he wouldn't last five seconds against her. He did, however, prime the wards to target her in case of an attack. He had learnt his lesson from Lupin's visit.
Ignoring the Lord Black's turmoil and the menacing feeling of the wards on her skin, Cassiopeia plowed ahead with the next bit of information. "Besides, he is the Boy-Who-Lived, Sirius. Yes, I know all about that. I'm not dead yet. When you return to Britain, he will find himself a target of the Dark Lord's-" She sneered at the word. "-supporters. It is imperative that he learns of his inheritance. Do not allow your tainted view of the world take it away from him. That boy is born to wield the Dark arts."
Ignoring her words, Sirius asked "How. Do. You. Know?" Every word was punctuated with a menace rarely heard from the ex-auror.
Mentally heaving a sigh, Cassiopeia knew there was only one way to both get Sirius to accept her help and save her life. Drawing her wand slowly to not alarm Sirius, she held it over her head. Black, you owe me. "I, Cassiopeia Virgo Black, swear, on my life and magic, that I do not intend harm of any form on Sirius Orion Black and Ares James Black and I only wish to help them to the best of my ability. Furthermore, I swear that I cannot reveal the name of my source at this point in time. So I swear, so mote it be."
A black aura radiated out of her, signifying the oath had taken effect.
I hate magical oaths. was the first thought through Sirius's mind. Now, he knew he couldn't ask about the information or not believe her claim of helping him. Mentally screaming at himself for going through with this, he asked "And you will teach him the Dark Arts, and only the Dark Arts?"
Cassiopeia shrugged "I will teach everything I can teach him, kid. He's going to need all the help he can get."
Sirius sighed, unsure if he should laugh or cry. Wherever Orion and Walburga Black might be at this moment, they must be laughing their arse off at the blatant irony of it all. Their son, the one that had spurned the Black family lineage, was now having to teach the same to his own son.
His wand spinning into his palm, he waved it upwards, and muttered. "Expecto Patronum!"
Ares sighed. Stretching his muscles, he glared at the dark brown wooden floor.
He had been working on the Shield Orb spell, an older variant of the Protego spell. Unlike the Protego spell, the shield orb surrounded the caster in an energy shield bound to the caster. It had fallen out of favour for modern shielding spells due to its longer incantation, wand movement and the immense focus necessary to maintain it. However, the main advantage of the shield was its ability to move with the caster, something that most shields lack. He had been tinkering with the spell over the past two weeks, trying to stabilise the shield to form a self-maintaining defence while trying to add a propelling charm, to turn it into a rudimentary escape pod. While had had achieved the first objective, the latter was being frustratingly difficult. He had spent over eight days trying to tie the charm into the shield, but the shield was not co-operating. And he did not wish to spend time on the arithmancy required to create the necessary matrix to merge the two spells. Hence, his attempts at creating the combination spell his way.
The Ares way, in which he willed his magic to work the way he wanted it to. And it always worked.
Waving his black wand, he performed the reverse arc, drew the eihaz rune, added a forty-degree flick and muttered "Vivamus Fermentum Clypeus". A perfect Shield Orb, flickering in blue and green energy, flashed into life around him before stabilising itself. He then took a deep breath, before flicking his wand upward in a single move, which should produce the propelli-
A sudden hissing sound attracted his attention. Bugger!
WHAM!
The shield bubble got squeezed by air on both sides, as the bubble thinned and slammed into him from either side. The thin shield hit with the force of a stunning hex, disorientating him before shattering.
Stertching again to get rid of the feeling, he thanked his lucky stars that his failed attempts removed most of the energy before slamming into him. While the Ares way did not, he grudgingly admitted to himself, always work, it did work nearly every time he tried.
Ares scowled. "Stupid spell." Shaking his head to remove the disorientation that he was feeling, he got himself ready for a second attempt. It better work this time, or Merlin save him, he would…
He would….
Have to do it the stupid Arithmancy way. Ares's scowled deepened at the thought.
He was just about ready to start another attempt when the silvery form of Padfoot flew towards him.
Ares raised an eyebrow. While he had mastered many defensive spells, he had yet to try master the Patronus charm - Padfoot had been rather stubborn at not allowing him to try the spell, citing his age as the most important reason. Apparently, the Patronus was an esoteric spell - whatever that meant - and Padfoot would not let him try the spell until he had reached the sixth year material in Magical theory. Considering the number of rules that Padfoot had Ares abide by, he had decided to obey his father in good faith. He was a very good son after all, and never did anything that his father told him not to. A traitorous part of his mind, one that sounded eerily similar to his father, reminded him of the innumerable times he had stolen books from the Black library but he ruthlessly pushed the thought away.
The silvery grim opened its mouth and his father's voice emanated from it. "Come to the study."
Ares raised an eyebrow. His father was never comfortable staying inside the Lord's study - he visited the room far more frequently than Pad and that was saying something - and for his father to call him, through a patronus, was… odd. He stared at the grim which barked before vanishing.
Damn. Now I have to walk all the way to the Study.
The Lord's Study located on the highest floor, the fourth floor, of the manor and he was in the training room in the basement. His broomstick was in the closet in his room. A part of him wanted to summon his broomstick and fly up there, but a recent incident came to mind. He had cast the spell to summon his broom from his closet, and by a number of completely unintentional circumstances, the process had led to the curtains in his room catching on fire and his father had to renovate the entire room on the second floor. Ares had been grounded for two weeks for that.
Kreacher wasn't an option, and neither was Matty. Matty would pop him somewhere in the garden, just to make him walk longer, and Kreacher was well… Kreacher. Running out of ideas, he looked at his wand in vain as he took a deep, long-suffering sigh. It seemed there was be no other option that could allow hi-
A proverbial bulb glowed in his mind.
Ares grinned.
Sirius was just pondering over the state of affairs that he was going to have to deal with when a loud noise outside the door attracted his attention. Thinking the worst had happened, and ignoring his grandaunt who had turned towards the door, he got up in all haste and ran out of the study only to see-
A nine-year-old devilspawn was bouncing all over the corridor, with a blue-green energy sphere enclosed around him. The ball was rolling on the floor, bouncing on surfaces, rebounding between the walls, floor and ceiling - the elasticity of the sphere propelling it upwards before it struck another surface, causing it to zoom in and out, all over the corridor, like an oversized bludger.
Just as the ball turned in his direction, Sirius intoned loudly "Immobulus!"
Ares felt his ride stop midway, feeling the sudden jerk as his Shield Orb stopped in mid-air, hanging like some kind of levitated prison cell. His eyes followed the direction of the voice and saw his father standing right in front of the study, his wand in hand, and a scowl on his lips.
Only one thought ran through his head. Holy Shit.
"Okay," Ares answered with a long-suffering sigh. "Let's face it. This isn't the worst thing you have caught me doing!"
"So you are my great-aunt."
"On the Black side, yes." The woman in front of Ares smiled. A thin, flimsy smile. Ares decided that she looked nigh uncomfortable with that expression.
Damn, this is odd.
Seeing the awkward atmosphere, and really wanting to move out of the study soon, Sirius said "Ares, your great-aunt Cassie will be staying with us from now on, and she will be in charge of teaching you…" His son frowned at the words. "the Dark Arts." His frown went upside-down and there was a nice, big smile on the rapscallion's face.
"Seriously?" Ares couldn't help but release his surprise. Eyebrows furrowing, he turned to his father. "But you have always- you know-" He tried to demonstrate using hand signals in vain.
"And that has turned out wonderfully, hasn't it?" Sirius drawled. He knew the antics his son had been involved in. "After all, it is not like it stopped you from stealing the books from the library."
"I didn't steal them," Ares defended in indignation. He didn't think Pad knew about that. "I just… took them without permission."
"That is stealing." Sirius deadpanned.
"Ahem!" Cassiopeia cleared her throat, hiding her smile at the boy's words.
"Right." Sirius ignored the glare the little hellspawn was giving him, and focussed on Cassiopeia instead. "So she is your great-aunt and your new tutor. You are going to give her the sa- ahem, more respect than you give me, and obey her. Is that understood?"
Ares felt that his father was acting way out of character, but didn't voice his thoughts aloud. Deciding that he would have to act the way they acted in public, he nodded with perfect posture. "Of course, father."
Cassiopeia tried her level best not to show her amusement. Deciding to end the charade, she cleared her throat once again. "Ares, perhaps we should leave your father to his responsibilities, which I am sure he has…" She looked meaningfully at Sirius, who nodded and left the room, before staring at Ares. "What are you thinking, Ares?"
"Uhm, nothing." Ares replied hastily.
Cassiopeia raised an eyebrow.
"Just thinking how you are going to manage all of that?" Ares blurted out the words.
"You don't think I'm competent enough to teach you?" She replied with mock-haughtiness.
"No, no—it isn't that," Ares backpedalled, waving his arms in denial. "Well, it's like… I am kind of- well, I find it hard to stay in one place and sit and learn. Pad usually has to run all over the place teaching me and-"
"You think that me, being the old frail lady, cannot keep up with you, and will force you to sit and study like obedient children." Cassiopeia deadpanned.
"Uhm, you will?" Ares asked, a downcast look on his face.
Cassiopeia had an incredible urge to say yes, but she changed her mind and focused on her magic. Her appearance shifted, and sitting in her place, was a young black-haired woman who appeared to be in her early thirties. "Am I young and fit enough to teach you now?" Sarcasm oozed from her tone.
"Whoa!" Ares replied, star-struck at the amazing piece of magical transformation she had managed, and wandlessly of all things. He had studied Human Transfiguration in advance and knew the difficulty of the magic she had pulled off effortlessly. "How did you do that?"
"I'm a metamorphmagus." Cassiopeia clarified. She found the boy's exuberance refreshing. "That means that I can change my appearance at will."
"Wow, can I also learn how to do that?" Ares asked reverently.
"Unfortunately not," Cassiopeia scrunched her face. "Metamorphs are born. Just like Seers, or Parselmouths. You are either one, or not."
"Oh." Ares replied sullenly.
"Don't be like that, Ares." The elder woman chided. "Being a Metamorph also comes with its own share of disadvantages, lack of physical coordination being one of them. Since our body physiology is always changing, it tends to lower our coordination."
"I… see." Ares replied, not really understanding her.
Cassiopeia smirked. "It means that I was clumsy for decades before I learnt to control my powers effectively. You wouldn't want to trip on your foot during a duel, would you?"
A recent memory came to his mind when Padfoot had defeated him with a tripping jinx in a duel. It was embarrassing enough to consider that being a metamorph meant that he wouldn't need Padfoot to jinx him to trip on his own feet. Shaking his head to throw off that embarrassing image, Ares looked up. "No," He decided firmly, "I am better off not being one."
Cassiopeia smirked again. "So Ares, your father tells me that you are a good enough duelist at such a young age?"
Ares shrugged, doing his best to control his blush.
Cassiopeia chortled at his embarrassment. "He also tells me that you are a big fan of the Black Library, and that you have already stolen it over fifty tomes."
Ares decided that the floor was the most interesting thing he had ever seen. "I only stole the ones written by Cassandra White, and it's forty-seven not fifty." He murmured.
"Cassandra White, eh?" Cassiopeia smirked in amusement.
"Yes," Ares replied, missing the wide smirk on his aunt's face. "she is the Dark Arts Master of Durmstrang, and my favourite author. I wanted to learn from her." Ares added with a miniature frown.
"Ah." Cassiopeia deadpanned. "Well, I will try to be as good as this… Cassandra White." Her expression hardened for a moment. "As your new tutor, I decree that you shall have to return all those books immediately to the library." She almost smirked at the sullen face of the little kid before her, before she continued, "You now have my permission to use the library as you wish."
Ares's eyes widened at the opportunity she was giving him. "Seriously?"
"Seriously." Cassiopeia replied in a stern voice. "I only demand that you perform your pet projects under my supervision."
Ares's grin got bigger and bigger, since anyone who allowed him into the library and was insane enough to help him in his anarchic projects was Ares's friend.
"The first thing you need to understand and commit to your conscience is that there is nothing evil about the Dark Arts. Despite what your puritanical father would like to quote, using the Dark Arts does not make one a murdering psychopath."
Ares had a small frown on his face as he considered the statement. He was sitting in the Black library alongside his great aunt (who had insisted he address her as Aunt Cassie), trying to understand the theory behind the Dark Arts before. His father had told him about Voldemort and how he was a monster. Hearing about murdering psychopaths brought forth the initial fear that had gripped him when he had first felt the Slytherin magic form a shroud over his magical core. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Ares gave a brief nod for her to continue.
At his nod, Cassiopeia continued her lecture. "It is true that most practitioners of the Dark Arts lose their control and sanity and walk down the path of destruction. However, it is possible to study the Dark Arts, and not succumb to their allure. I am, all modesty aside, one of those few who can call themselves a legitimate expert on the subject, and who is not a deranged murderer." She happily ignored the part of her mind that was whispering about her actions during the Great War of Europe.
"And thus, there is one fundamental rule which you must always follow…" Her tone was of steel as she said "You must always be in control of your magic. Never, ever let it control you."
"Pad says the same thing." Ares chirped.
"Does he?" Cassiopeia smirked. "Then again, Arcturus did spend a month teaching him the Family Magic."
"Was grandfather Arcturus very powerful?" Ares asked, his interest piqued at the mention of his great-grandfather who Pad talked about it. His father did say he was a lot like him, whatever that was supposed to mean.
Cassiopeia frowned. "Arcturus was powerful, easily overpowering most wizards and witches, but not near the same level as Grindelwald. I dare say that I was more skilled. Arcturus's real talents lay in politics; his political acumen was unparalleled. He could have easily become the Minister of Magic if he ever wished to do so."
"Wow." Ares remarked reverentially.
"Then again, great-uncle Sirius Arcturus Black was the Minister of Magic in his time. My own grandfather Phineas Nigellus was the Headmaster of Hogwarts in his time, and my cousin Pollux was the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. Always remember that you are a Black, and that means that you are born for greatness."
Ares felt a warmth settling inside him, hearing about the achievements of his family. A question appeared in his mind, and he couldn't help but ask it. "What about the Potters?"
Cassiopeia frowned. "The Potters were never… politically motivated. They were professionals; businessmen, potioneers, enchanters and the like. Your family has always guarded their privacy jealously, something that is impossible if you intend to swim in the political world."
"Oh." Ares commented with a frown. He liked politics, and couldn't wait to be a part of the Wizengamot when he grew up. His father always quoted how he was like grandfather Arcturus in that respect. "Pad says that I can study from the Family grimoires when I turn ten."
Cassiopeia ruffled his hair. "No need to hurry. You will learn a lot about your families in the coming years, just like the Arts I intend to impart to you."
Ares grinned.
"One thing that you need to understand is that the term 'Dark Arts'is actually a misnomer. Nearly all of the Arts classified by modern witches and wizards as such are the combat magics used by our ancestors for millennia. In those days, magic was raw and powerful, with far reaching and extraordinary effects. Even most of the magic practised during the Founding of Hogwartswould be classified as dark in modern times."
Ares was hanging on to her every word.
"The mages of old relied on necromancy, blood magic, thaumaturgy, runes, rituals and various arcane arts. The Warmages of the era simply combined the magics to create the field now known as battle-magic, one whose focus would lie on destruction. The battle-magic of old is essentially what constitutes the modern Dark Arts."
"Pad says that I am very good at battle-spells." Ares replied proudly.
Cassiopeia smiled. "As you will be, in the ancient battle-magic when I am done with you."
Several Months later…
"Not good enough, Ares. Try better."
Ares scrunched up his face, pointing his white wand towards the dummy lying in front of him, as he whispered. "Sanguiniferveo."
The blood-boiling curse flowed down his wand to strike the dummy, the point of impact starting to simmer as the dummy began to melt slowly.
"Stop." Cassiopeia chided. "You are not doing it right. You are pouring far too much magic all over the place, Ares. It is an amateur's way of doing things, not the Heir of Black."
Ares frowned. He was accustomed to forcing his magic do things he wanted it to do. It was the way that his magic worked, and it was exactly how he had won some of the duels against his father. He had yet to encounter problems with the magical theory, but the practical application of the Dark Arts was more challenging than he had expected it to be. Aunt Cassie, being the perfectionist she was, wasn't helping matters either.
"Let me guess. You have always poured in more and more magic until it overpowered your opponent?" Cassie asked shrewdly.
Ares nodded briskly.
Cassiopeia scowled at the boy. "I forbid you from doing that ever again. Always treat your magic like you would treat your own blood. Enough to make it work, not a quint more."
Ares scowled. "But it worked against-"
"Sirius, yes." Cassiopeia interrupted him. "And the reason you won is that, despite your apparent youth, you hold a lot more magical power in your body - probably because of your Slytherin lineage. Most wizards do not possess such raw power in their prime. That blood-boiling curse you just cast would have drained most wizards."
"Oh." Ares nodded in understanding as he wondered on the best way to control his flow.
Cassiopeia's face scrunched in consternation. Teaching the boy was as much as a challenge as it was joy. She had never met anyone with such natural affinity, and yet, his ways of using magic were unorthodox at best. She remembered the way he had combined two spells to form that Protego bludger - Sirius had named it - she had witnessed on her first day in the manor. She still had trouble grasping the truth that the boy did not use Arithmancy to achieve it.
Relaxing her features, Cassie asked "Tell me Ares, can you feel your magic flow through you when you cast a spell?"
Ares nodded. "It feels like an overpowered aguamenti charm… Like a big wave, you know."
Cassiopeia narrowed her eyes. Perhaps the boy could experiment with wandless spells if he was so highly-tuned to his magic. Most witches and wizards could feel their magic only after several decades of practicing magic. She had achieved such a feat at the age of seventeen.
"This time, when you cast the spell, try to regulate the amount of magic flowing, all right? You say it is like a wave. Well this time, try to decrease the wave into a thin stream. Can you try and do that?"
Ares thought hard about it. Closing his eyes, he performed the wand incantation as he whispered. "Sanguiniferveo."
Instantly, he felt a wave of magic flow through his hand, out towards his wand. Remembering Aunt Cassie's words, he listened,and slowed the magic down, constricting it until he felt a few drops flow through. His wand vibrated for a moment as a pale blur of purple struck the dummy. But the dummy was intact and no marks appeared on the surface. Hell, it did not look like a curse had struck the thing at all.
Cassiopeia scowled. The boy was going to be the death of her. He could just force his magic to cast any dark spell by simply overpowering it. However, there was more to the Dark Arts than mere power. The boy could be an outstanding killer, if he just spent time honing his control. She wondered about the destruction he could cause as a healer, considering that most healing magic and rituals required an extremely high degree of control over a person's magical reserves.
"That was a pitiful casting if I ever saw one." She scoffed. "What did you do? Close your flow completely?"
Ares looked sullen. "I tried to stop it. So, it just… stopped. A little of my magic passed through into my wand for the curse."
Cassiopeia frowned. It seemed like she would need to spend time teaching him how to manipulate his magic before he could actually progress to the finer and more esoteric aspects of the Arts. Most students of the Dark Arts were encouraged to try wandless magic, as it improved their control while opening more pathways in their body for the magi to flow seamlessly. When such witch or wizards tried to cast spells through their wands, they found the casting to be far easier and allowed them to better control over the potency of their curse. Ares on the other hand, would find it rather ill-suited, considering he had excellent grasp over his magical flow and power. But he needed control training and wandless magic did not offer him the same benefits as it did for others. She would need to find ways to help him tune his magical control and efficiency.
"Aunt Cassie?" said Ares.
Cassiopeia replied "Yes, Ares?"
"How did you become a Dark sorceress?"
Cassiopeia laughed. "Did your dog of a father mention that?"
Ares just grinned, not caring to accept or deny the accusation.
Cassiopeia shook her head in vain. Eleven months had passed since she began her time as a tutor. Much to her consternation, and joy – not that she would admit it – the boy had burrowed his way into her heart. She had grown fond of him and his grin was equal parts wariness and delight to her. "Well, I have always been a scholar of the Dark Arts. I left Hogwarts after taking my OWLS to continue my studies at Durmstrang Institute. Six years later, I walked out with a mastery on the Dark Arts, something that very few people end up achieving."
"Why so?" Ares tone was one of curiosity.
Cassiopeia smiled at him. The boy was far too curious when it came to magic. "Well, it's the prejudice against the Dark Arts mostly. However, I didn't care and Arcturus fully supported me back then. Besides, Pollux was already studying at the Institute." She paused, considering her words. "I was always enamoured with the concept of a muggle-free world. I mean, who wants muggles around? An entire wizarding world, with the muggles under our domination sounded much better to my ears. Grindelwald… he was just the cream of the crop. I loved his ideology, although to be frank, his ridiculous quest for those fantasies was quite… repelling."
Ares tilted his head, confusion on his face. "Fantasies?"
Cassiopeia scowled in thought. "Oh yes. He was obsessed with immortality and with finding a certain wand, not that it helped him at the end. Dumbledore defeated him, even with Gellert wielding it."
Ares's eyes widened. "Albus Dumbledore?"
"The very same." Cassiopeia frowned. "Personally, I never liked the man. All that power, and yet, no ambition. Bloody goat."
"Pad doesn't say the same about Dumbledore though," Ares muttered. "He says that Dumbledore cannot be trusted."
Cassiopeia bit her lip. "Well he does have a point. The old man changed after the War. The Pre-War Albus Dumbledore was a hot-headed Gryffindor, albeit one with superlative ability in the field of transfiguration. The Chief Warlock of Britain is a cold, manipulative bastard. Then again, power has a way of changing people."
"Will I- I mean; will it change me too? You know, learning the Dark Arts and my magic? Pad says I am very strong." Ares muttered, trying to ignore the sinking feeling forming in his stomach.
"Only if you allow it too." Cassiopeia advised sagely. "I was young, and powerful. Grindelwald offered a world that suited my dreams, and I went forth with him, following his lead, fighting and striving to create a world where magic was might."
"And then?"
"I grew up, I suppose." Cassiopeia replied bluntly. "I realised that in my blind ambition, I had given in to the haze which had led me closer to my own destruction. Back then, it didn't even matter to me if I butchered thousands of people at the flick of my wand."
Ares's eyes turned as wide as saucers. "How did you- you know…?" He tried to explain without causing offense, or being insensitive.
"Get out of the haze?" Cassiopeia asked, as Ares nodded. She sighed. "Arcturus defeated me."
Ares's eyes widened at the answer. "Grandfather… your brother, fought against you?"
"Yes." Cassiopeia smiled sadly. "Arcturus and Charlus Potter were leading the 44th regiment of the ICW against Grindelwald. He and Potter fought on the right flank, trying to throw us out of Bulgaria and the Balkans. I and Reginald Longbottom led the defence against them."
"And then?"
Cassiopeia ignored the irritation growing at Ares's repeated interruptions and continued, "Arcturus faced me on the field He was always powerful, but I was a shade more skilled. Then again, I had been striving to be better and better while he had been involved in politics. I held the upper edge." She paused, "I was winning, and I think, in control of the haze, I would have killed him, and done so quite easily."
Ares was hanging to her every word.
Cassiopeia laughed bitterly. "Then the bastard did the unexpected."
"What did he do?" Ares couldn't help but voice his curiosity.
Cassiopeia smirked. "He used the Black Family Magick against me."
Ares blanched. While he had yet to gain proficiency in his Family Magicks, his lessons had always included warnings on using Magick against one's own family. It was considered a taboo by many. "But- but, you are Family."
Cassiopeia looked grim. "I was going to kill him. I would have killed him. In the haze, I doubt I would have even considered my actions." She paused, looking every bit her age for a moment. "It was a good thing he did. The Family Magick paralysed me, and he… took advantage of it, pouring a vial of the Draught of living death down my throat."
Ares looked horrified.
Cassiopeia smiled in bitter amusement. "Don't be shocked, Ares. Arcturus was always unpredictable, and I dare say, it was the best thing about him. I advise you to learn from him in that respect."
"What happened to you after that?" Ares's voice was nearly a whisper. He could not even contemplate fighting against his own family.
Cassiopeia looked sullen. "I was asleep for… months, I think. When I finally woke up, the war had ended and, apparently, Dumbledore had defeated Grindelwald. There was no news about Reginald and my brother had been given the title of Baron for his bravery and his contribution to the war."
"You must have been… angry." Ares commented softly.
"Hardly." Cassiopeia laughed. "All that I felt was disorientation for weeks; being on the potion for such a long time caused some problems. Arcturus and his wife Melania treated me back to health and he explained what had happened." She paused, looking sullen. "I was ashamed of my actions and asked him to grant me death for choosing a stranger over the Lord Black and my own family."
"What did he do?"
"He granted it." Cassiopeia replied simply. Laughing at Ares's shell-shocked face, she took pity on him and explained. "Oh no, he didn'tactually kill me. He killed Cassiopeia Virgo Black. I had to re-sink myself into Occlumency, get complete control over my mind and magic, create an entirely new character for myself with a new past. Since 1947, I have been known by an entire different name." She paused. "Cassandra Allura White."
Ares felt his throat clench. His aunt was… "You… you are… Cassandra White?"
Cassiopeia smiled magnanimously at his expression. She did like throwing the boy for a loop now and then. "Always a pleasure to meet a fan."
Ares was having problems trying to string together a coherent sentence. "But- yo- we di- you are- The Dark Arts Master of Durmstrang? The one wrote all those books?"
Cassiopeia smirked. "It's good to be appreciated by family."
Ares's face lit up in a bright smile before frowning at a suspicious thought. "Does Pad-?" If his father did know, and did not tell him all this time… well, Ares had been silent on the pranks for quite some time.
Cassiopeia smiled in amusement, knowing the direction his thoughts had taken. She contemplated answering in the affirmative, wondering what kind of chaos her little nephew could unleash. "Oh no, he doesn't. This is going to be our little secret. Agreed?"
Ares grinned.
"Now can we return to your magical tuning?"
The grin vanished, only to be replaced by a scowl. "But I have been doing that… tuning for months. My magic doesn't like it, you know."
Cassiopeia just laughed. He was always fun to be around.
March 1991.
Almost two years had passed since Ares had begun learning the Dark Arts from his Aunt Cassie. It had been a rather… tumultuous journey through a variety of magical theory, experimentation and lots and lots of fun. There had been plenty of dire moments too, especially when Aunt Cassie had begun instructing him on the so-called dark curses, and the infamous Unforgivables. After several failures, his aunt had finally found the perfect way to change his spell-casting from his innate KABOOM style into something much more clinical and sophisticated.
Cassiopeia could wax lyrical about Ares's achievements but in his presence, she would only ruffle his hairs and say that he had… done well.
However, like all good things, this had to come to an end, since Cassiopeia felt that she had taught him enough for him to pick the rest up at his own pace. And now, she was ready to return to her home, away from Black Manor.
"Why can't you just stay here, Aunt Cassie?" Ares whined.
"Stop whining." Cassiopeia smiled at her nephew's pout. "It doesn't fit someone of your stature. Besides, It's been two years since I have been away from home and my friends. Besides, I will be just a floo call away should you need any help from me."
Ares frowned. It felt strange to let her… go. His parents had died, leaving him alone with Padfoot. The fact that someone could just… let go, without dying… was a concept he was having difficulty to grasp.
"Besides, both of you are going to Egypt, and my frail health isn't going to help matters. A lady needs her rest." She replied pompously.
Ares considered it. He had become so used to his young and vibrant Aunt Cassie that he had almost forgotten that she was over ninety years old. Though, wizards and witches had long lifespans, Cassiopeia Black wasn't in the prime of her health either.
"Why can't you teach me warding? Why send me to Egypt?" He whined, despite the scowl on her face. He really did not want to her leave him.
"Because you are Ares James, the heir of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black." Cassiopeia stated in a firm tone. "You need to learn the arts of Wards and Wardbreaking and it must be from a Wardmaster. I am many things, but a Wardmaster is not one of them."
"But-"
"No buts." Cassiopeia cut her nephew off in a voice of steel, knowing if she delayed any longer, she would stay forever. "I have given your father an address in Egypt, to meet an acquaintance of mine. He is a rather accomplished Wardmaster and will be able to teach you what you need." She paused, "Besides, it will be a nice, little vacation for you, away from the confines of the Manor."
Ares frowned but didn't say anything in return. His Aunt Cassie was usually right. So, if she decided that this Wardmaster as good, then he must really be a very good teacher.
A month later…
"I am never going to learn warding, if that is the person I need to learn from," Ares raged as he walked through the sandy beach, his father walking beside him. "That… that… idiotic, moron of a…."
"Sheesh, Ares. From whom did you learn to swear like that?"
Ares glared balefully at his father.
"Right… from me."
Ares looked away, towards the waves. The past month spent in Egypt with his father - apart from the sights, artefacts, tomes, tombs and local magic - was an absolute waste of time. They had approached the man recommended by his aunt Cassie. Sure, the man was an accomplished Wardmaster and everything, but his head was too high in the clouds to even recognize that Ares Black could learn warding, despite being just ten. He had spent the month under the man's tutelage and not a day went by without any taunts. Ares had briefly considered throwing some of the curses his aunt had taught him. After a long month of this ridiculousness, the man - something Smith; he had some family in Britain - had openly accused his father, to his face, of having kidnapped Ares after the death of the Potters.
Understandably, that hadn't gone well as Ares had taken slight at his words, and for a moment, he had forgotten all about the magical control that Aunt Cassie had drilled into his head for the last two years and let his magic out in his classic KABOOM style. Needless to say, the results were quite disastrous as he had blown the man's expansion tent to shreds, obliterating many of his personally crafted artefacts in the process. Before the incident could turn more… problematic, Sirius had taken a rather infuriated Ares Black and portkeyed away.
That was how they had found themselves walking in the sandy beach, amidst the International Magical Fair hosted on the French Riviera this year. Sirius, in all his infinite wisdom, had decided that visiting a magical fair would be a good way to calm down an infuriated Ares Black, who was still having second thoughts over casting Fiendfyre on the sandy beach to just blow off some heat.
"Why is it so important for me to learn warding?" Ares asked, the glare still etched to his face.
"Because warding is an excellent way to learn how to manipulate magic" Sirius replied. The sounds from the fair washed over the beach they were walking on. "Besides, the Black Library has a rather… infamous collection of books on the subject, and every Black gets a heavy grounding in wards. We are a paranoid bunch of madmen, remember?"
Ares frowned. He understood very well that, had it not been for the ancient wards of Black Manor, the people from Britain- Dumbledore, the old cheshit - would have snatched him away from Padfoot. The fact that a creepy old man wanted to keep him away from his Padfoot had made a rather deep impression on him ever since he had learnt about it. It was the reason why they had stayed at Black Manor.
"So why can't you or Aunt Cassie teach me?" He already knew the answer, but he was ten, and it was necessary for him to petulantly rebel against something right now.
Sirius smirked. "You know the answer very well. Now let's see if we can get some nice prank items at the fair."
The fair was quite large in size and scope. There were hundreds of stalls with people shouting and yelling in enthusiasm. Ares felt quite cramped among the crowds. The fair was spread out over an area much bigger than the shopping district back at home; stretching out for Merlin knew how long. The design and size of the stands ranged from nice to suspicious, depending on the popularity of the items and the customers that perused the items. Dozens of tents were set up along the beachfront, selling everything from antiques and artefacts to sweets and quills.
It was all very weird to Ares. The place, the fair was very loud. Very different from what he had seen and the people were far too exuberant. Even Aunt Cassie was rather… dignified and cultured, having rare moments when she lost her cool, mostly due to Ares's penchant for pranking than any other reason. The time when he had set Fiendfyre lose in one of the empty stables came to mind, an accident that had only occurred because he wanted to experiment on the nature of free Fiendfyre.
"So what are we going to do at the stupid fair?" He asked his father.
Sirius sent him an irritated look. "Come on Ares, stop being that grumpy. I had hope of finding good prank items here." Looking at the grumpy look on his son's face, he decided to go for the kill. "Who knows? Maybe you can get something you can use for your… experiments?"
Ares's change in countenance meant only one thing. He was sold.
"But…" Sirius paused, "Before you run off, we need to do one thing." He waved his wand to cast a monitoring charm on Ares before tapping on the heir's ring. "Any problems, you just portkey away to Black Manor. Is it clear?"
Ares bobbed his head in agreement. He looked towards the stands with eager anticipation.
Sirius mentally groaned. He was not going to have a quiet few weeks, if he was lucky.
In less than thirty seconds since Sirius left him to his devices, Ares was mentally kicking himself over being grumpy and not seeing the million-galleon opportunity that was the fair. Once he had muted the loud noises and yells from all sides, he quickly understood that this was the place that could pretty well change the scope of his future experiments.
The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons of all sizes and materials - Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver, Gold, Diamond, Self-Stirring, Collapsible - and portable potion kits were arrayed around and within the stand. Ares did not have a lot of love for the subject of Potions. He had been taught the basics and could manage to whip up some medical draughts and elixirs, but that was all he could do. Padfoot himself had made it no secret that he was a half-decent brewer at best, and if Ares wanted to learn Advanced Potion-making, they would need a tutor for the subject. While silver and pewter were the more common cauldrons for majority of potion brewing, there were some specific draughts and elixirs, from Cassandra White's books - Ares thought with a grin - which asked for a gold cauldron. However, there was no immediate requirement and hence the over-expensive cauldron could wait.
There were shops for anything and everything - shops selling animal parts, magical substances, special herbs, practice wands, magical toys and what not. There was one that even sold magical mirrors, and of course, there were shops - con-men, Ares realised - who were proclaiming to sell mythical substances. One of them even held up a Philosopher's stone, wishing to part from it for nineteen thousand galleons. Ares was shocked at first when the man transformed a piece of ordinary copper into gold on touching it with the stone, but his mind clicked as he understood the mechanics behind it.
Leprechaun Gold charmed to look like ordinary copper.
"Hey Boy! Boy!"
The sudden shout distracted him as he turned towards the source of the voice. It was another shopkeeper calling at him. "I have something that you would like very much." He took out a tiny vial from within his glass counter, "This is a vial filled with a potion blessed by Lady Fortune herself. One sip and you would be the luckiest person for an hour."
Ares frowned. He hadn't read about any such potion, especially one blessed by Lady Fortune or any other deity. Ignoring the man's shouts, he walked further towards another shop that was selling magical substances, heartstrings, horns and the like. There was a large, over swollen Erumpent horn on the table and the shopkeeper was busy quarrelling with a customer over the price.
According to his books, an Erumpent was a large one-horned animal that looked ostensibly similar to a rhinoceros, except that it was much lighter in body colour and packed an immense amount of strength. The horn was filled with an explosive pus which could explode when shaken violently. Remembering exactly what an Erumpent Horn was, Ares quickly moved away towards the section that sold magical artefacts and prank goods, knowing very well that he would find his father there.
He walked along the section of shops he found himself in, only to stop suddenly as a feeling washed over him. Turning to his left, he found a rather, small tent with an opening at the front. Unlike the other tents, there was no shopkeeper standing outside and shouting at the top of his voice. While his usual modus operandi would be to avoid such a place, he instinctively felt drawn towards the shop. Steeling himself for any confrontation and preparing to draw his wand at the first sign of danger, he walked into the tent
It was a magical artefacts shop, albeit one that kept items of a darker variety, from what he could feel. The interior of the tent had been heavily expanded by space expansion charms – Padfoot had explained much of their theory, but it went right over Ares's mind – and there were shelves filled with artefacts. He had long ago grown comfortable trusting his magic and instinct for decisions, and this place reeked of… strange magic. Powerful but strange magic.
"Ah, a customer. What brings you here?" The man replied from behind the counter. The room had a dim lighting, except an opening on one side that allowed bright sunlight to flood in. Ares walked towards the man sitting on the other end of the counter and could, even from a distance, see the bright blue eyes of the man behind a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. For some reason, the man looked incredibly familiar, almost as if he were an old friend whom he had once known but had forgotten.
"I… I just came here looking for… uhm…" Ares found it difficult to explain. Then again, what could he say? That his magic told him to go in and look? It was plain ridiculous. Clearing up his throat, he replied evenly. "I was just checking… if I found anything worth buying."
"Ah." The man had a rather gruff voice. "Very well, come and look." And promptly ignored the young man as he wrote something on the parchment in front of him.
The interior of the tent was rather… Spartan. There were glass boxes, with strange artefacts placed inside them, shrouded in enchanted silk to prevent the innate magic from radiating out. Ares had heard from Cassiopeia about how there were artefacts that could curse you horrifically if you weren't the owner. The sale of magical and mystical artefacts was a part of the underworld, with artefacts bought and sold with millions of galleons changing hands. Aunt Cassie had mentioned a particular case, about an item known as the Horn of Joshua, an artefact that was capable of breaking through any ward for a three hours. Once the artefact was used, it required ten years of rest, buried underground over a magical ley line, for it to recharge. Aunt Cassie had never seen it in action, but it was believed to have be used by the Viking Invaders when they had attacked the shores of Albion in times long past. After a certain skirmish with one of Albion's strongholds, the horn had vanished from history, although Aunt Cassie had heard rumours about a certain Egyptian Arch-mage possessing it.
He moved from one glass box to another, his instincts and magic guiding him, until he had come across what seemed like an old, tattered tome. His magic flared in response as he stared at the tome with an odd feeling. Feeling confused about his reaction, but not willing to ignore his magic, he extended his palm to touch the tome but a proximity ward flared to life, keeping him away. "What…. what's this book?"
The blue-eyed man looked at the tome he was pointing at and his lips parted slightly. "Oh, you wouldn't want to buy that one. It's cursed with deadly magic and written in an obscure language. Perhaps I could interest you in some of the-"
But Ares wasn't listening. His eyes still stared at the book, mere inches beneath his palm, separated by a flimsy proximity ward. "I want to buy this book."
The shopkeeper stared at him for a second longer before replying "If you are sure… but I warn you, I won't be responsible for anything that happens."
Ares fixed him with a stern look. "I wish to buy this book."
"Very well," the old man said in a tone of resignation. "One hundred and seventeen galleons."
"Steep. For something you termed as useless and horrifically cursed."
"I'm not lying, boy." The man replied indignantly. "That book is cursed, and written in an obscure language. I am only keeping my profit." He laughed coarsely.
Ignoring the man's laughter, Ares took out his mokeskin pouch and counted the exact amount of money as required and handed it to the man.
"That's a lot of money you are waving around, boy." The man commented cautiously. "Be safe." He flicked his wand and removed the proximity ward, before levitating the tome into a metallic box, with a silk lining inside. "Use it carefully, if you can."
Ares nodded gratefully, picking up the now locked box, and walked out of the tent. His mind was stuck on the tome and the feeling of his magic humming in… he didn't know what the feeling was. The shopkeeper had been rather… peculiar, and Ares couldn't help but feel drawn to the tome he held.
So busy was he, stuck in the myriad of his thoughts, that he didn't even notice when he absently crossed the lane and hit a passer-by, who couldn't keep her balance and fell down on the sand, with a completely unladylike shout.
"Look where you're going," the person, who appeared to be some noble-woman from her very costly robes, chided Ares. "boy!"
"I'm sorry," Ares picked himself up from the ground, rubbing his back with his left shoulder, before he bent down to pick the metal box that had fallen to the ground. "I was distracted."
The woman was too busy staring in the direction of the box to pay any attention to the boy's apologies.
Ares cleared his throat. "Uh…" The woman looked away from the box, and shifted her gaze at him. Ares felt an odd feeling in his stomach. The woman in front of him was very, very pretty, and appeared to be around his father's age. Her golden curls combined with her milky white complexion gave her an ethereal glow. He shrugged off the odd feeling of wanting to look at all of her, not noticing the woman stare at him in curiosity.
"I'm sorry," The woman smiled softly, although there was a sharp look in her eyes. "I was… distracted." Her eyes flickered towards the box in the boy's arm for a moment before she gazed back at him. "How rude of me. What's your name, young man?"
"I am Ares. Ares James Black." Ares replied with a touch of pride and caution.
"Ah." The woman appeared to think for a moment. Looking at Ares, she replied "I am Lady Perenelle Flamel. Pleasure to meet you."
Perenelle Flamel? Ares thought the name sounded oddly familiar. Like he had heard of it somewhere, but the memory stayed out of his grasp.
The lady appeared amused at his expression, and smiled again. "My husband is Nicholas Flamel, an alchemist…"
Then it hit him. Of course, Perenelle Flamel. Nicholas Flamel. Ancient Alchemist and inventor of the-
"The philosopher's stone." Ares replied with realization.
Perenelle smirked. "Tell me, Master Black, what is someone so… youthful as you, doing all alone, in a place such as this?"
"Oh," Ares paused, "I am here with my father, Lord Sirius Black. He is… there." he replied enthusiastically, as he stared at the approaching figure of his father from his right. A rather loud noise attracted both of them as smoke began to radiate out from one of the shops at the other end of the lane, specifically from the area selling magical substances.
Must be the Erumpent horn. Ares decided.
"Ares, who are you talking to?" Sirius questioned, as he beckoned Ares towards him. His son ran towards him and stood at his side, carrying a black box. Ruffling his hair, he looked at his son.
"That's Lady Perenelle Flamel, Pad—father." Ares exclaimed.
Sirius raised an eyebrow, as he gazed at the woman standing in front of him. Instantly, a wave of magic washed through him, as he felt an innate wish to impress the woman, before he strengthened his occlumentic shields. His Lord-ring glowed gently as it shored up his mental defences.
"Lady Flamel," Sirius walked up to her and offered her his hand. The lady smirked as she calmly placed her palm into his, allowing Sirius to kiss her knuckles. "It's my genuine pleasure to meet you. I am afraid I we have never met before, for I would have recognized your beauty as soon as I laid eyes on you."
Ares smiled at the woman who felt oddly familiar, while Sirius thought he saw a predatory glint in her eyes.
Perenelle smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you in person, Lord Black." Gesturing towards Ares, she said "You have a very earnest child."
Sirius smiled, although it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Forgive me for asking, but it seems you have been spending a lot of time near the tropics." Perenelle asked genially. "I couldn't help but observe."
"We… well, it was more of the Equator than the tropics. Egypt, to be precise." Sirius replied.
"Ah, and I suppose your son got this… box from there?"
"Box? What box?" Sirius asked in confusion, before his eyes darted towards Ares who was holding the metallic box. "Where did you get that, son?"
"I… bought it, from an artefact seller in the fair." Ares answered honestly.
Perenelle smiled primly. "A rather… queer choice, young man. Would you say that the thing inside that box-" she gazed pointedly at the item in his hands, "-called you to it?"
Ares widened his eyes at his dudection, but nodded slowly.
"Curious…" Perenelle regarded him closely, before her attention shifted to Sirius. "If I am not being too forward, Lord Black, may I know why you were spending time in Egypt?"
Sirius considered his answer. One hand, he wanted to keep his excursions a secret. On the other, this was Perenelle Fla…mel. Hang on, Perenelle Flamel… Idiot. An idea germinated in his mind, as he composed his answer. "We were looking for a Wardmaster."
Perenelle raised her eyebrows at the answer. "Would not Gringotts be a better option to look for a Wardmaster? They are experts at the art of wards and wardbreaking."
Sirius smiled warmly, hoping that his plan would work. "I am afraid you misinterpreted my reasons, My Lady. I was looking for a tutor for my son."
"Your son…" Perenelle looked thoughtful. She glanced at Ares for a moment in indecision, before she cleared her throat. "Why would a boy as young as your son need tutoring on the subject of Wards?"
"There are… reasons for that. Reasons which I really… couldn't say without precautions in place." Sirius replied with slight wariness in his voice. While the Flamels did not wield their impressive political power and preferred to stay reclusive, he could not help maintaining a wary stance. Albus Dumbledore was known to be a good friend of Nicholas Flamel.
"If you are fearing that I would inform Albus Dumbledore about our meeting, it is for naught, Lord Black." Perenelle replied softly. "Yes, I know about your little… tryst with the Supreme Mugwump. And about the Boy-Who-Lived as well."
Sirius almost grit his teeth.
"However," Perenelle stated, "we are recluses and as much my husband was friends with the Chief Warlock, I can assure you that you have nothing to fear from me."
Sirius could not relax at her words, but he did notice the term she used. Was friends? Does that mean they are no longer talking to each other?
Perenelle glanced again at Ares, before speaking. "It is no secret that I am a Wardmaster. That is the very reason why you mentioned your search for tutors." Her eyes flickered over the duo before staring Sirius in the eye. "Perhaps we could continue our conversation at my home. Say… tomorrow at eleven?"
Sirius gathered his wits, as he tried to think of a decent way to ask if it was-
"It's not a trap." Perenelle replied with exasperation.
"Why offer, Lady Flamel? You are one of the most accomplished Wardmasters to have ever lived." Sirius couldn't help but question her bluntly. "What's the catch?"
Perenelle smirked. "Come to my mansion tomorrow, and I will tell you. Also," she glanced at Ares one last time, "bring your son along."
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Wow! We've had an overwhelming response to the previous chapter. Seems that people love it when the government baddies get their just reward.
We had long arguments over the chapter, over every bit of minutiae. But we finally had the chapter we both were satisfied. And we know you were as well.
And now for our new addition to the roster:
CASSIOPEIA VIRGO BLACK – FAMKE JANSSEN
PERENELLE FLAMEL – CONNIE NIELSEN
AMELIA BONES – CATE BLANCHETT
AUGUSTA LONGBOTTOM – JUDI DENCH
JONATHAN GREENGRASS – COLIN FIRTH
NYMPHADORA TONKS – MEGAN FOX (Don't judge. Considering Tonks is a metamorph, we went with it.)
Our new addition to the family is a rather normal *cough* insane *cough* person. Don't worry, there won't be any sacrificial deaths.
Skadarken: I hope not. The bloodstains were a bitch to clean last time.
As Skad says, we shall be using reasonable characters from this point onwards.
Skadarken: One – Skad is not a good nickname. Two – Don't believe him. His version of reasonable is Bellatrix. On a good day. When it's raining rainbows and bunnies.
As my Ska- fellow author says, I love these fluf-
*Shotgun pellets strike the room*
Bellatrix: Why am I not in the story yet?
Skadarken: Shit. You bloody bast-
*Due to medical difficulties, the AN is to be fini-
Bellatrix: Don't you worry yourselves, my pretty little birdies. My boyfriend's coming soon... Hehehehehehe
And now it is time to answer some of the riddiculus reviews in Skad's own words…
To Guest who boasted about a Non-existent story: Get a dictionary, find the word "review" under the letter 'R', and understand the meaning of the word. Then come back to FFnet.
Answer to the political guy: You don't like it. Skip it. You're not being paid to read it.
To boban094: please print the fic and put it under an electron microscope. IF you find that Ares was somehow in Little Whinging under the Dursleys or that Dolores sent Dementors from Azkaban to Bulgaria, please let me know. On a side note, please get yourself some prescription glasses and possibly a brain replacement.
To the Amelia ameliorated lover: Please understand that this is not canon. Otherwise, Daphne would be blonde; Not black. In case you couldn't tell, this is AU not canon. The presence of something remarkably similar to Logic should have been a big giveaway.