Two Days after the Wizengamot session.

Sirius stretched in his seat, his joints creating a 'pop' sound. Uncaring of the hushed whispers as people passed by, he twisted his neck and continued staring at the door through which his son lay on a sterilized bed surrounded by several potion racks which regularly spelled several fluids straight into his bones and blood stream as runic matrices hung in the air around him, monitoring every single organ, muscle and bone in his body.

Nose itching from the potion and other unidentifiable spells wafting through the hospital corridors, he – again - cast a wide area bubble charm. Bad enough that his son was stuck in the hospital for two days without waking. He did not wish to deal with the smell above that.

A familiar voice drifted into his ears. "Seems that your dislike for hospitals hasn't waned, Sirius. I'm honestly surprised that your sensitive nose hasn't fallen off your mangy face."

Sirius turned to find the source of the voice drop into the chair next to him. Frowning at her haggard look, he asked, "I distinctly remember you having to pull duty for another twelve hours, Healer Tonks."

Andromeda shrugged in response to the cold welcome. "Managed to rope a colleague into pulling that shift by owing him a favour."

Sirius blinked at his cousin. This was not the same woman who had spent the past two days, since his arrival at the hospital, treating him like a total stranger except in cases where Ares's treatment was involved. Ignoring her distasteful tone regarding her colleague, he said, "You've been avoiding me for the past two days, Tonks."

Andromeda shot a glare at her cousin. "Did you lose your memory, Sirius? I remember, vividly, speaking to you for over an hour yesterday. In fact, we have been in regular contact ever since my nephew arrived at the hospital in a condition that would kill most grown men and his mangy mutt of a father was just short of collapsing on the floor."

Sirius glared. "I believe you're neglecting to mention the cold shoulder treatment you've been giving me, Andromeda."

"Did you expect me to roll out a big banquet?" Andromeda asked, her tone gaining heat with every word. "You disappeared for over a decade, you mutt. I did not receive a single letter in that period nor did you deign to Floo call. What did you expect?"

"At the very least, a 'Hello'." Sirius muttered, unable to sufficiently retort her words.

Andromeda snorted. "I really hope you did not pass your naiveté to my nephew."

Sirius scowled at her. For her part, the witch stared at the healers and visitors walking past them.

Turning to face the door again, Sirius asked, "How is Ares?"

Andromeda glanced at her cousin. "You still suck at subtlety, Sirius." Sighing, she cast several privacy and anti-eavesdropping spells around the two chairs holding herself and her cousin. "He's still healing."

Sirius growled at his cousin. "That's what you've been telling me for two days. I'd like an actual answer, Andromeda. I have no idea what's wrong with my son except that he hasn't woken up since evening the day before. You and the rest of your colleagues are driving me mad with your silence. How difficult is it for you people to understand that I just want to know if my son is alright?"

Andromeda blinked at the sight of a Sirius close-to-ripping-his-hair. While the attitude was not a complete contrast to his time at Hogwarts and during his duties as an auror, it was surprising in terms of context. "I'm surprised, Sirius. I honestly expected you to lose your manners the day Ares was admitted." A smile, one of amusement, rose on her lips. "It seems you can teach an old dog new tricks."

Watching Sirius about to explode, she cut him off with her next words. "He's not alright." Her cousin recoiled at the edge in her tone. "He was struck by a poisoned dagger, Sirius. A dagger wielded by a member of the Black Death, assassins responsible for several high profile killings over the past thirty years."

Sighing in exasperation, Andromeda leaned her back to the wall and tried to rub the exhaustion out of her eyes as her entire posture crumpled.

For the first time since the conversation since the conversation started, Sirius noticed the state of his cousin. Stains of what he assumed were various fluids coated the front of her white healer robes and, with a start, he recognized the majority of the stains were a deep crimson, a colour he recognized. Blood. Her usually pristine hair, tied in a bun, appeared frazzled, like she had been repeatedly tugging at the strands. The bags under her eyes looked prominent, a feature he knew was only a result of long term lack of sleep combined with heavy work. Her entire posture radiated an aura of one who wished for nothing more than the warm comfort of their bed.

Deciding to err on the side of caution, Sirius asked, "Andi," His cousin shot him a curious look at the use of her nickname. "When was the last time you got any rest?"

"Thirty-six hours ago." "Too much work to do, Sirius. Not to mention, my nephew has yet to wake up from his beauty sleep. There's a lot of work left to do… the problem is I do not know the right answer to the puzzle before me."

"Puzzle?" Sirius asked, quite puzzled about Andromeda's reaction to Ares lying on a hospital bed. "My son is not a puzzle, Andi. He's been sitting there fighting poison for the better part of two days and you're telling me it's a puzzle."

Andromeda shook her head. "Before you get the answers you need, I would like some of my own." As Sirius opened his mouth to respond, she interrupted him. "For Merlin's sake, Sirius, you knowing the status of Ares's vitals won't help him at the moment. Now, answer my questions first."

Seeing her cousin close his mouth with an angry scowl, Andromeda smiled. "Why did you choose to antagonize the entirety of the Wizengamot on your first week back in the country? And if you tell me it's because you wanted to pull a prank," She sneered, "I will pour a gallon of shrinking potion down your pants."

Andromeda sighed on recognizing the look of panic and guilt on Sirius. "Merlin! Are you really that daft, Sirius?"

"Hey!" Sirius was indignant. He was not daft. Just a man who appreciated beauty. Sadly, no one, not even Ares, understood that.

"Did you really think that an explosive start to your first week in Britain was the best introduction you could give?"

"It's not my fault the old codgers passed the law that forced my son to attend school in the one country whose Dark Lord is specifically targeting him." Sirius really, really wished he could put his wand to use against the bastards. "He never wanted to come back here, Andi. He wanted to explore the world, see more sights and learn magic from every corner of the world. Before that stupid law came into being, Ares was looking into joining the– the– I can't remember the word… some priests in South America who specialize in transmutation. And these–"

"And they interrupted your plans to never return, so you and Ares decided to teach them a lesson." Andromeda gave an exasperated sigh. "For Merlin's sake, Sirius, did you ever stop to think about the consequences of your actions? You-Know-Who is out there, right now, probably thinking to eliminate Ares in the very room he now sleeps in… Did you ever consider, for a moment, that you might be putting not just yourself, but your son in danger as well?"

Sirius scowled.

Andromeda snorted. "I have never once reckoned that the current Lord Black might be so short-sighted. I did laugh myself silly at that move you pulled with Lucius and the rest of the Wizengamot members. Were the favors your idea?"

Sirius shook his head in amusement. Andromeda's accusations of danger and neglect were still playing in his ears. Maybe I should have considered the plan far more carefully… "No. I did have several plans to enact at the end, many of which would have seen Lucius and his ilk far more humiliated," He ignored Andromeda's snort, "than they were at Ares's hands. I was this close to declaring them blood-traitors. It would have been extremely fun to see the bastards on the same level as the Weasleys. Lucius would have died of excessive pride." If his suspicions about the assassins were right, Sirius would personally ensure that Lucius broke his neck on the stairs of his own manor. "Ares convinced me otherwise, said it would be bad form to start with a move that only a Gryffindor like me would pull."

"Yes, and I for one, agree with my nephew. Do you seriously think that it was a good idea? For Merlin's sake, Sirius, you are not in school anymore. This is not like your days as a Marauder when you could just prank anyone in the hallways you disliked. You're a grown up responsible for the care of a child. Start acting your age."

"Hey! I resent that."

"Continue resenting it. But you are no longer going to pull such stunts again. I certainly won't be patching you up if you decide to get yourself blown up in some freak attack."

"I do not get myself blown up in freak attacks! What do you think I am?"

"A kid trying to act like a grown man." Andromeda deadpanned. "And it seems to me that you have, through means unknown, managed to pass on your childish and vindictive tendencies to my nephew." Her lips twisted in amusement. "I would pay a million just to watch Lily's reaction to that piece of trivia from the afterlife."

Sirius paled at the thought. Lily would find an extremely creative way to torture him, he knew she would. Mary Anne had yet to recover from the revenge Lily enacted when the Hufflepuff had managed to dye all her books in slime.

Andromeda's amusement grew inversely to Sirius's skin tone. "Of course, that would be after James got his hands on you. I'm certain that his experience in pranks would be quite the asset."

Sirius went so pale that Andromeda wondered if the man suffered a stroke.

Merlin! James was going to kill him. Lily too. After the duo had put through a round of torture. Or ten.

Andromeda patted Sirius on the back. "Just remember to curb your overly developed tendency to cause mischief and everything will be alright."

Sirius deflated and nodded his consent.

Satisfied for the moment, Andromeda relaxed in the small hospital chair. Rubbing her eyes due to exhaustion, she pulled out a small rectangular box from the pocket of her robe with her left hand.

Sirius stared at his cousin and groaned. "I really wish you'd get rid of that habit of yours, Andi."

Andromeda glanced at Sirius and placed a cigarette between her lips and returned the packet to the pocket in which it was situated. Snapping the index finger and thumb of her right hand to create a small flame, she lit her cigarette and extinguished the flame by snapping her fingers again.

Sirius blinked at the action. "When did you learn to perform wandless magic?"

Removing the cigarette using the middle and index fingers of her left hand, Andromeda blew out a stream of smoke. The smoke curled through the air and vanished after coming in contact with the privacy wards surrounding the two cousins. "It's been years since I learnt that trick, Sirius. And stop scowling. It demeans the Lord Black."

Sirius's back hit the wall as he leaned in his chair. Watching the passing healers direct glares towards the witch sitting next to him, he turned towards Andromeda. "I'm guessing your colleagues are not big fans of your disgusting habit." It was not a question.

Andromeda chuckled after blowing out another stream of smoke. "No, they are not. In fact, I've received several complaints and suggestions to stop smoking. Since I was not willing to give up my habit and my colleagues kept pestering me to, at the very least, try and prevent my habit from affecting anyone else, I made a decision. I created a modified spell. A vanishing charm tied into the privacy ward around us, one specifically targeted at smoke. Behind the ward, I can smoke as many as I please without getting inundated by the vapours or bothering the extremely sensitive noses of my colleagues."

Sirius chuckled. "Honestly, Andi, can you not just quit? It is harmful to your health. Ever hear of all those diseases that cigarettes are supposed to cause?"

"I'm surprised you even read such books, Sirius. Do you actually have the time for such matters when you keep chasing after every skirt you catch a whiff of?" Ignoring her cousin's glare, Andromeda explained, "Witches and wizards are not affected by those diseases. The damage caused by smoking cigarettes is miniscule enough that the magic in our bodies can quickly fix the issue before it turns into a serious hazard. Unless, I decide to smoke a carton every day or get cursed by some idiot with a grudge against me, I will live a long and healthy life."

Sirius sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I think I went along with your 'Humour and handle' program long enough, Andi. Now, tell me about how Ares is holding up."

Andromeda blew out a thin stream of smoke. "What do you know about cellular regeneration, Sirius?"

Sirius looked at Andromeda, confusion swimming in his eyes. "What I learned from you, Andi."

Andromeda rubbed her forehead, a scowl on her face. "Immune systems?"

The space between Sirius eyebrows furrowed at the unexpected questions. Confusion deepening, he said, "Again, as much as you taught me, Andi. I was never going to be a healer and did not see the need to broaden my knowledge on the subject."

Andromeda glared at her cousin, looking for any trace of deception.

A few moments passed in silence as healers and patients who walked by the seated pair wondered if a fight would begin in the hallway.

Finally satisfied that Sirius Black was telling the truth, Andromeda relaxed in her chair and took a quick puff of smoke. "I'll keep it simple. Every time our bodies sustain physical damage, the cells around and within the affected area begin multiplying to fix the damage until the skin, muscle or bone is well and truly healed. While we cannot regenerate limbs, any superficial injuries can be healed without even a trace of scar tissue. Witches and Wizards, thanks to the magic present in our bodies, heal at three times the rate of a muggle, and the process is only expedited by the potions and salves us healers apply."

"Poisons, by default, are extremely vicious chemical compounds that are designed to deal death to the affected patient. In those cases, even our bodies - with all our perks and connection to magic - require neutralizing potions or anti-venom to prevent the witch or wizard from taking a journey into our equivalent of the afterlife. In fact, I have seen, and heard of, cases where many witches and wizards died in less than two minutes due to the delay in administering the counter."

"I admit I was at fault for the slight delay in administering treatment to you and Ares when you arrived here after what I now know was a short but vicious fight with the Black Death. However, it turns out my worry for all for naught."

Turning to fully face the cousin she had not seen or heard from in years, Andromeda spoke in a casual tone, her curiosity betrayed by the eager look in red eyes. "Did you know that all the injuries inflicted on Ares were healed? Completely healed. As in, he was 'not even involved in the fight kind of healed'. If I did not find the poison in his blood stream, the one specifically tied to that particular brand, I would have taught you were pulling my leg."

Sirius was taken aback due to Andromeda's words. "…What are you talking about, Andi? I don't understand. Ares was injured. He took a knife through his arm. I saw him take the knife through his arm. There is no way he-"

Andromeda interrupted Sirius before he could really gain steam. "I know, Sirius! Yes, I agree he was injured and poisoned. But outwardly, he was fine. Any and all injuries were completely healed without my intervention. The only point that demanded my attention was the poison coursing through him."

Sirius clenched his fist in anger. "If he is perfectly fine, why is he still asleep?"

Andromeda took another drag of smoke. "I never said he was fine, Sirius. I merely informed you he has fully recovered from his outward injuries." Holding up her right hand to ward off any further questions, she said, "Before we discuss his unnatural healing, let me give you a full report of everything that occurred since he first entered the hospital to this minute."

Watching Sirius nod in reluctance, Andromeda began her report. "After you and Ares arrived at the hospital, me and the two Medi-wizards assigned to me quickly moved Ares to a private room. I began the entire set of tests performed on one involved in a battle with dark wizards."

"The results were quite startling. Mentally, he was fine. There were no signs of high-powered Legilimency attacks, occlumentic shield degradation, compulsions, mind-altering charms or behavioural-modification spells. We usually run such tests on kidnap victims or hostages… but I wanted to be sure, especially after I knew assassins were involved."

"Physically…" Andromeda sighed. Taking one last puff of her cigarette, she vanished the remainder with a wave of her wand. "I did not understand what was happening to him." She stared at her cousin with not a little amount of anger. "Scans showed us that his magic was preying on himself, Sirius. Ares's magic was preying on his own body, his own tissues, nerves and everything. Don't worry." She added, watching the panic on Sirius's face which answered some of her questions but lead to even more, each one more outlandish than the last.

"I deleted the records. None but I know the full results of the examination." Andromeda watched as Sirius deflated in relief. "After I deemed his mind was intact and free of outside influence, I decided to begin treatment on his injuries while one of my assistant Medi-wizards prepped the anti-venom treatment that was par the course for any patient who came in contact with the blades used by assassins in general. When my assistants began transferring the anti-venom into his blood, I was shocked at the state of his body."

Andromeda's voice held both awe and a sense of disquiet. "Every single injury he sustained had completely healed, Sirius. All of them. If I didn't know better, I'd say, he never fought in a battle." Her hand unconsciously coiled into a fist before it relaxed. "So, Sirius, what exactly has my nephew been up to?"

Watching the anger, confusion and annoyance run through Sirius's face, Andromeda sighed. She really wanted another smoke but Ted was getting on her case about having too many and Nymphadora would not let her hear the end of it if her father decided to go on a long winded rant he called an intervention. "You don't know, do you? Hmm… Looks like he has a few secrets of his own."

Sirius really, really wanted to put his fist through a face at the moment. Dumbledore's preferably. "When he gets out of the hospital, I am going to- to-"

"Do nothing." Andromeda blew on her nails. "Your primitive displays of anger will only beget no answers." She glanced at her cousin when he released a low growl. "Does Ares respond better to anger or reasoned arguments?"

Sirius did not deign to argue the point for he knew the right answer. But the only place Ares could have probably did what he did to his body was-

"Stop thinking, Sirius. You will hurt yourself."

"Andi!"

Andromeda's lips twitched in amusement. "You cannot go around berating him for what he has already done. The ritual he performed saved his life. You can't argue that is dangerous when it appears that he successfully executed it." She gestured towards the door leading to Ares's room. "Teenagers are in a rebellious phase, Sirius. You should know that better than most, considering your own behaviour at that particular age."

"What's with all the parenting advice?" Sirius wanted to know why Andromeda would offer him advice after two days of giving him the cold shoulder.

"Because I do not want you to screw up your relationship with my nephew because of your immaturity." Andromeda gave up her inner battle and drew another cigarette. "Besides, Aunt Cassiopeia will take care of the berating."

Sirius stared at Andromeda, eyes wide with shock. "You're in contact with her!?"

"No. I'm talking about a flubberworm named Jessie." Andromeda's voice was mocking.

Sirius winced at the tone. "I just didn't know that Aunt Cassie was talking to you."

"I am disowned, not dead." Andromeda took a deep whiff of her cigarette and released a stream of smoke. "We meet every few months to exchange stories over a nice meal. And no, she did not tell me where you and Ares were living. But she did share quite a few stories that put Nymphadora in stitches."

Sirius knew very well the list of stories that Cassiopeia could share to generate laughs. As great as Ares's talent was at magic, he had an even greater talent at creating some ridiculous situations that he would never forget. The Costume Incident had driven everyone except Ares into a laughing fit. "Aunt Cassie going to have fun ripping strips out of Ares."

Andromeda raised an eyebrow. "In case you forgot, Sirius, Let me remind you he is your son."

"I know." Sirius was positively gleeful. "But since I can't be angry with him, she can. And I will enjoy every second of it."

Andromeda took another whiff of her cigarette and wondered if all the members of her family eventually went insane. Poor Ted. He's missing out on the experience.

September 25 1995.

"If memory serves correctly – and I assure you mine does - the House of Black requested your services to teach Ares the discipline of ward-crafting." Sirius stated coolly, his eyes fixed on the unnaturally beautiful woman moving her hands over an unconscious Ares in some kind of dance, manicured fingers glowing with a fine sheen of magic.

Perenelle snapped her neck towards Sirius, eyes ice cold. "I certainly remember our oath being along the lines of teaching your son and Heir everything he needed or asked. My only objective, as our contract states, was to satiate his thirst for magical knowledge. If your son is incapacitated, it is because of your decision to…" She paused for a moment, "pull a prank on the unsuspecting imbeciles of Wizarding Britain."

Sirius gritted his teeth due to the fact that he could not refute the statement. Clearing his throat, he spoke with a measured voice. No need to antagonise an extremely old and very powerful witch. "I am blaming you for the attack on my son, Lady Flamel. I am merely raising my concerns regarding the knowledge you are imparting to my son." He licked his lips and considered his words. "It has been brought to my knowledge that you have taken him in as your apprentice."

"I did." Perenelle answered, her fingers performing the last set of spells necessary to purge the impurities from the boy's system.

"Without the express permission of the Lord of his House who also happens to be his father?"

"I did."

"With the full knowledge that binding the Heir of a Most Ancient House into a contract without his Lord's permission is an offence punishable by prison or worse?"

Perenelle stared at steel grey eyes without fear. "The House of Flamel might not be a Most Ancient or even an Ancient House by modern standards, Lord Black. However, do not consider looking down upon my own knowledge of the Ancient laws and treatises."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Your actions betray your apparent knowledge then, since by your very commitment-"

"Ares James, the Head and soon to be Lord of House Slytherin formed an apprenticeship contract with me to learn of anything he wished to within the spheres of my expertise. The contract I had with you, Lord Black and the apprenticeship contract of Ares Black, Head of House Slytherin are independent and mutually exclusive. And do not lie to me"

Sirius tightened his fists. "And may I know the clauses of this contract?"

"While I do have the privilege of telling you it is not your business," Perenelle returned derisively, "I do not wish to engender bad blood between us." She paused for a moment. "In return for my services, Ares has sworn to perform one single favour for me. That favour does not cause - or give cause to - harm Ares magically, physically or emotionally."

Sirius stood like a stone, drawing on his not inconsiderable mental resources to map dozens of choices and paths, ideas being drawn and discarded quickly but he soon gave up the effort. He could not determine her agenda with such vague information. In fact, he would do no better with no information at all. In hindsight, he should have been more proactive and taken note of the ease of securing her services in the first place.

"Lady Flamel…" Sirius began hotly.

"If it is your intention to try to issue threats, I would thank you if you refrained from such. All your resources, stature and power mean little to me." Perenelle snapped, interrupting him midway. "The best things in life are often… priceless, would not you agree, Lord Black?"

Sirius opened his mouth to say something, but then thought the better of it.

"No matter what you think of me, you may be assured of one single detail." Perenelle spoke with a softer tone. "I do not possess any… sinister intentions towards your son. He is an excellent student, if a little precocious at times."

Sirius had to agree with her assessment of Ares. Still, he would try to ascertain any information he could on Perenelle Flamel's goals or motivations.

The lady was not yet done with her lecture. "To the best to my knowledge, you have been training your son to prevent his Slytherin heritage from consuming him, a defensive approach that suits your disposition. Contradictorily, your son seeks to master the power trying to take him over and does not limit himself from pursing the avenues necessary to attain control over the magics he contains."

"Rituals." Sirius breathed sharply.

"An inadequate description that tells little." Perenelle waved her hand dismissively. "Coincidence or destiny, it matters not. The blood of three Great Houses have joined together in the Child of a Prophecy… Ares James Black. He's not looking to survive, Lord Black. He's going to thrive. The Family Magics will ensure he moves on the optimal path."

Sirius felt a cold shudder down his spine, wondering if the consequences he had wrought from his decisions were good or bad. According to Arcturus, a Lord of a House was influenced by the Family Magic, the effect compounding for older Houses whose Magic's have developed over centuries. With three such Magics fused into a young boy whose very existence was mutilated by ritual and soul magic…

He shook his head to perish the thought before it could proceed to completion.

"Are you…?" Sirius's voice broke. "Is Ares going to…? Will he be himself?"

Perenelle smiled predatorily. "I am not a seer, Lord Black. However, I do understand that destiny is always… paid in blood."

The first sensation Ares felt upon opening his eyes was a blinding sensation that made him close his eyes quickly to stave off the migraine. Taking a few moments to recover, and hearing sound of voices in his vicinity, he very carefully and slowly opened his eyes to allow them to better adjust to the ambient light. Halfway through the exercise, he realised – in muted horror – that the two voices – he could finally distinguish them – belonged to his father and Shit! his Master and they were engaged in a rather heated argument.

Closing his eyes, Ares did his best impression of a man drugged with the Draught of Living Death, listening to the angry tone of his father and hints of amusement he could pick from Perenelle's voice. His anxiety brewed at hearing two of the most important people of his life getting into a heated debate over him.

He had come to cherish the few people in his life and, despite the tortures he was put through, Perenelle had become one of his most treasured bonds. He did not wish for a rift between her and his father.

"Is Ares going to…? Will he be himself?" It hurt Ares to hear the sadness in Pad's voice. The fact that he had to hide from his father was not a happy thought, but some things just had to be done.

He awaited with baited breath as Perenelle gave her reply.

"I am not a seer, Lord Black. However, I do understand that destiny is always paid in blood."

Whatever Ares had been expecting, that was not it. And the tone in which she spoke… He had only heard Perenelle Flamel use it once before. It was years ago, when he had finally managed to annoy – ahem, persuade her into talking about her family.

"My husband betrayed him and my family had to pay the price. It was then I realised what people truly were; they would always, always care about themselves, regardless of the cost paid by others. My cynicism, as you like it keep harping about, has helped me survive the centuries, Heir Black."

Ares heard the sound of a door opening and closing as a single set of footsteps walked away.

"Your father has left us. You can stop pretending to be asleep now."

The unexpected words from his irate Master snapped Ares out of his musings. He opened his eyes to find Perenelle Flamel staring at him with a snarky expression. He was hard pressed to call the expression ugly as her ethereal beauty made her look like the most beautiful of sights. It would have been even better if those eyes were not glaring daggers at him for his thoughts.

"Um… hey!"

Perenelle's countenance shifted into a deep scowl. "I have thirty-seven diagnostic spells on your person. Did you really believe that I wouldn't realize you're awake?"

"Um…. No?" Ares hemmed.

Perenelle smiled and Ares suddenly wished he was very far away. "You have slept long enough. It is time you start explaining why you cast a Redacted Curse and also what idiotic line of thought led you believe the best way to stop a poisoned dagger was by using your own flesh."

Ares opened his mouth, and closed it. Thinking and rejecting the first five automatic excuse- ahem… prim and proper reasons, he decided to go with the one that had the highest probability of allowing him to escape a long drawn and painful death at the hands of his clearly irate Master.

He opened his mouth and spoke with a nonchalance he did not feel. "Let's face it. This isn't the worst thing you've caught me doing."

Meanwhile at Hogwarts.

"I will kill him." Daphne declared. "I'm going to stuff his wand up his arse."

"Uh, Daph?" Tracey tried to calm her angry friend who was currently pacing across her dorm room. "He was already near dead. Don't you think your reaction is a far too-" She did not finish the statement due to the dragon-like glare being aimed at her.

"When I get my hands on him, he's going to wish he was dead." Daphne continued, radiating an aura of murderous intent.

Blaise and Theo - lounging on the empty beds - were amused at the display. It seemed that Ares Black had a particular proclivity for breaking the stoic mask of her friend. Then again, it could not be denied that ever since Ares had begun attending the school, there had been a near-constant source of entertainment.

"Did your… mum send any information about it?" Theo lowered his voice to ensure Blaise alone heard the question.

On Blaise's expression of inquiry, Theo elaborated, "My father was curious. It's not every day a teenager survives an assassination attempt by the most dangerous organisation on the planet.

"I am not the least bit insulted." Blaise scowled. "Why don't you continue, Theo? I'm sure you've got a word or two lying around yet."

Theo chortled. The House of Zabini did not descend from nobility. Contrary to the origins of most Houses, the Zabini's began as a private mercenary force. Today, they were one of the largest private contractors on either side of the Statue of Secrecy, owning a massive conglomerate of assassins, mercenaries and bounty hunters. In collaboration with the Most Ancient House of Selwyn, House Zabini was almost, if not more, feared by the masses than other Nobles Houses and held greater respect. It was one of the many reasons even Draco Malfoy, in all his arrogance, did not even interact with the affable teen of House Zabini.

"Apologies." Theo continued chuckling. "I forgot you were nothing but a flower-loving pacifist who has a crush on a muggle-born."

Blaise narrowed his eyes but as Theo continued chuckling, he gave up with a sigh. "Mother is interested. According to her, Ares should not be alive at the moment or even healed to the degree he was when we visited him yesterday. She says that the only thing that can grant such rejuvenation would be along the lines of the Philosopher's Stone and Ares is not Nicholas Flamel."

The two boys spun around as the sound of falling glass attracted their attention.

A glass of water had slipped from Daphne's hand which Tracey was now vanishing away with several flicks of her wand. If not for the shadow over her face, Blaise would not have given it further consideration.

"Anything you wish to share, Daphne?" Blaise asked with a casual tone, as Tracey vanished the last of the broken glass.

Theo raised his eyebrows.

"Huh?" Daphne replied eloquently. "No, it is probably nothing."

"Sure." Blaise drawled.

Back at Black Manor...

"Where… am I, exactly?" Ares asked as he took in the surroundings. At first sight, it looked like some kind of hospital, although the architecture seemed vaguely familiar, a mixture of gothic and modern with the entire room painted a crystal pure white.

Perenelle looked amused. "One would think you had gone senile, Ares. Surely you can recognise your own house?"

Ares gaped.

Perenelle snorted. "When I asked your father to move you to a private room with a list of supplies, he prepared this." She gestured towards the room. "I believe his exact words were 'Now it looks like a proper hospital'."

Ares's scrunched his face at the words. It was exactly like Pad to do something like this. He tried to get up but felt Perenelle push him down.

"Rest until your muscles no longer protest. I will not have you dallying a second longer than necessary."

Ares grumbled but acquiesced as he could feel the pain radiating from his muscles. However, the pain gave him a clarity of thought which allowed him to make a startlingly realization. Looking at Perenelle, he said, "You've never visited Black Manor before." He had extended several invitations to his master only to be gently or rudely rebuffed. Perenelle stared at him like he was denser than iron.

"You are my investment, Ares Black. I will not have you dying until you have fulfilled the favour you owe me."

Ares smiled. "It's okay, you know." At Perenelle's confusion, he clarified. "It's okay to drop your I-don't-care –about-people façade from time to time. I am thankful for everything you have done for me and I trust you completely."

Perenelle beamed and Ares sucked his breath. It was a smile that made flowers bloom. A thing of beauty, really.

Then why, why do I get the feeling of about to get chewed by a hungry dragon?

"Despite your saccharine words, Ares, you are not escaping your punishment." Perenelle replied, her lips still holding up the fake smile on her face.

Ares's face scrunched in frustration. "Oh come on! You could have at least pretended it worked a little."

Perenelle's lips twisted in amusement. "When I told you that the effects of the ritual were deeper than superficial changes, I did not, in any manner, encourage you to enter mortal combat, get poisoned and stabbed to test the ritual's effectiveness. The only reason you fully recovered is because you received treatment immediately."

Ares looked confused. "Shouldn't my body now take care of those things without outside intervention?"

Perenelle gave a hard stare. "In time and with help from your magic, yes. However, you lost your self-control, relied heavily on Extrasensory Cognizance, utilised a highly dangerous Redacted Curse and fought like a berserker, throwing your magic around like fireworks. You could not have done a worse impression of one I consider my apprentice."

Ares looked away, unable to find anything to refute her words. Perenelle's disappointment always felt like a knife through his heart.

"You are stronger than most adults, Ares. However, that does not mean you are capable of facing experienced assassins in a field of battle prepared to their comfort. I find it highly disappointing you forgot the basics."

Ares hung his head. "I'm sorry, Madame Flamel."

"Look me in the eye." Perenelle's voice was firm. "You are a descendant of the Great House of Slytherin. Even in the face of failure, your head must be held high." Once the boy turned to look her in the eyes, she asked, "Educate me, Ares. Why did you use your arm to block a dagger?"

Ares scowled. "I was being stupid. By the time I saw the dagger, I was running dry and knew I couldn't put up a shield in time. So, I just… reacted."

"Pathetic." Perenelle shook her head though her expression remained neutral. "You should know that the healers put you in Healing Stasis for two days."

"What? Why?" Ares questioned, standing up. "My body should have-"

"It would not have." Perenelle interrupted. "In fact, if not for the stasis, you would be bedridden for months, unable to use any magic." She paused at the horrified expression received. "Tell me, Ares, if you consumed your own hand, do you think your body would accept the offering and regrow the arm?"

Ares jumped.

"You confessed that you were running low on magic when you were stabbed with that poisoned dagger, poison potent enough to kill an individual in minutes. Even a timely dose of the required anti-venom might not have saved your life. Your body did not have the necessary fuel to begin fixing the damage, especially with your immune system a near wreck."

"My body began feeding on itself?" Ares asked with a shallow breath.

Perenelle regarded him with a sharp look that caused Ares to flinch. "It would have. Fortunately, the medical stasis delayed your rejuvenation ability long enough for the healers to cleanse your system of the poison. With the complement of potions induced into your bloodstream and your reserves gathered over two days, your body gained the fuel necessary to fuel your ability to revitalize you completely. Do not expect invincibility from a single ritual, Ares. Not even those who performed dozens are immune to harm."

Ares let out a long breath, thankful that the situation hadn't turned out to be worse.

"As I believe I have previously mentioned, your tendency to jump to conclusions without thought will someday lead you to ruin, Ares Black."

Ares didn't reply.

"Also," Perenelle stated, her tone shifting to one of amusement. "I find myself remembering of the Slytherin family being quite… averse to promoting muggleborn influx into their territory?"

Ares was just standing there, trying to do his best nonchalant expression (and failing dismally).

"Then again," Perenelle continued. "Considering the… mundane apprehension towards the disciplines of rituals and other esoteric arts, it was perhaps for the best. So imagine how surprised I was, on reading that Salazar Slytherin wrote in his grimoire, especially about his… love for muggleborns."

Ares grinned shamelessly. "Ah well, about that… you know it, I know it, but the rest of the world doesn't. It's really unfortunate that ole Salazar decided to write his grimoire in a language undecipherable to everyone save those of his blood."

Perenelle rolled her eyes.

Somewhere in Munich.

The one they called Janus walked through the shadowy corridors, his mind busy with the recent actions of his organisation. Three days ago, four of his assassins had been hired by one Walden Macnair from the British Isles. Four of his men, along with two junior Death eaters - he almost snorted at the high and mighty name those crooks called themselves - to assassinate one Sirius Black and his son, the reclusive and singularly interesting Harry Potter - a fact that had greatly displeased him, especially when his subordinate took the action without informing him.

That fool Lazarus must have thought he would be able to end the Black line for once and for all.

Janus had been the one to find the struggling child on the streets. He had seen the potential in the dirty waif, taken him in and groomed him to become a deadly, powerful and ruthless individual who the world feared as the Leader of the Black Death Organisation.

Lazarus.

Janus considered it to be an effective move in keeping the governments in the dark. Lazarus would serve as an effective public face and act as the leader of the organisation while he could focus on other matters.

Janus was not a foolish individual. He had taken several steps to ensure that Lazarus could never, ever betray him.

But I could not take away his grudge against the Blacks, did I? Janus gritted his teeth at that failure. Years of patience had given Lazarus the perfect chance to kill the Lord Black and he had seized the opportunity with all the haste of a youth.

Foolish child.

"Lord Janus."

The assassin kneeled and bowed his head as Janus took his seat on the throne. He appraised the assassin kneeling before him.

"You failed."

The assassin was silent though Janus could spot his hand twitch.

In fear or shame?

"Three of my best defeated and killed by the actions of a single child, and you have returned by fleeing like a shameless dog."

The prostrated assassin did not utter a word.

"That pales next to your arrogance in ignoring my commands to leave the Blacks alone."

"Lord Lazarus-" The assassin began in a voice that barely trembled but was quickly interrupted.

"Will get his due." Janus snarled. "Lazarus, in his short-sightedness, ignored my mandate to never involve our organisation in matters that concerned the Isles."

The assassin did not dare to refute.

"That said, the attempt was not a complete loss."

The man lifted his head. "My Lord?"

"The boy…." Janus whispered. "He survived… he survived our venom and according to reports, left the hospital without a scratch on his person. Regeneration at such levels has not been seen since that idiotic child Voldemort returned with the body of a homunculus. However, the boy differs in that his body was not an artificial monstrosity." He licked his lips like he was tasting a delightful meal. "Such advanced prowess in ritualistic magic is no mere achievement."

"You surmise that Black had the boy study rituals?" The assassin questioned with not a little trepidation.

"Undoubtedly." Janus declared. "The boy's knowledge of a Redacted Curse too…. Very interesting indeed."

The assassin could admit he had been shocked and, to a certain extent, frightened at the prospect of facing a child who had the ability to successfully cast a Redacted Curse. Unlike the Unforgivables, which owed their classification to standards created by Auror-guarded paper-pushing politicians, Redacted Curseswere marked as such by magicals learned in the higher arts. The Curses were horrifyingly dangerous to the victim and, to a lesser extent, the caster and had far reaching effects for most people to even consider casting them, if they possessed such knowledge at all. Such Curses had, over time, been erased from all books and were only passed by word of mouth between masters and apprentices.

For a mere teen to be able to cast a curse like that was both… frightening and illuminating.

"Makes you wonder what kinds of anathema Ares Black has dirtied his hands with…" Janus whispered thoughtfully.

"What are your orders, Lord Janus?" the assassin asked, standing straight and ready for his next mission.

Janus mused, his fingers drumming the edge of the chair next to him. "I need you to keep a closer watch on Ares Black. I was… fortunate to have a view of the entire series of events at the Ministry atrium, and I have several… experiments in mind in regards to the boy."

The assassin nodded. There was no one in the entire world, save Lazarus perhaps, who might know the identity of Janus as he always used an advanced Polyjuice potion to look a random civilian (or at least, that was the theory anyway). Even now, the leader looked like a nondescript male in his forties with black hair and blue eyes.

But one fact was known to all. Janus had ears and eyes everywhere. If it was possible for anyone to smuggle an assassin into a proper position to conduct further clandestine activities, it would be Janus.

"Await my message." Janus left the throne and nearly left the room before he turned around and stared at the assassin for a few seconds. "The contractor… Walden Macnair, was it?"

"Yes, Lord Janus."

"I do not like loose ends."

Two days later.

Lucius Malfoy and his wife Narcissa sat in the large parlour of the Black townhouse located at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, London in discomfort. Ever since Lord Cygnus Black had fortified it into the Black Family's stay and business in 1659, the Townhouse had become the symbol of the Blacks in Wizarding Britain. Lucius had accompanied his father Abraxas and later, his wife Narcissa to the Christmas Balls hosted every year at this extravagant mansion untill 1980. With most of the Blacks dead (or imprisoned), the lights had succumbed away from the Townhouse, especially after Walburga Black gave in to her demise soon after her husband passed away. Ever since then, the Townhouse had been locked away by the ancestral wards all around it. Thinking of it, it must have been Sirius Black abusing his Lordship to do so in the first place after he had escaped with the bloody Boy-who-lived.

The last time I walked through these halls, it was for Walburga to declare my son her heir. Lucius thought bitterly. And now I am here because I believed in her delusions.

Kreacher, dressed in proper uniform, appeared in front of the seated couple. "Lord Black will be here with you shortly." With his message delivered, the elder elf turned towards Narcissa, bowed and popped away.

"I believe," An extremely familiar voice passed through the doorway, "that even my family elf knows who are, and who aren't worthy of respect."

Two pairs of eyes shifted towards the door and simultaneously widened slightly at the sight of Sirius Black – dressed in the robes of a Lord over dragon hide armour – walking through the room.

Lucius stared at the man who was considered to be the epitome of Gryffindor House walk with all the power and grace of a Pureblood Lord. The man who chose Gryffindor out of spite for his family, who fought against anyone who wished to change his views was now the Lord of the very House he once reviled.

Sirius stood across the couple with a couch behind him.

Narcissa stood up to utter the traditional greetings when a member of a House was in audience with the Lord of said House.

Lucius stared.

Narcissa coughed.

Lucius continued to stare, transfixed from his seated position.

Narcissa cleared her throat loudly, as Sirius raised a single eyebrow.

"Lucius?"

Lucius shook himself out of his thoughts upon hearing his wife's voice. Remembering his position, he stood up so quickly that he felt a muscle pull.

"Please…" Sirius replied in a disarming voice. "Have a seat." He took a step back, relaxing himself into the confines of the couch behind him.

Now seated, Lucius considered the situation. He had expected the conversation to start with a direct threat, if not outright cursing, followed by demands for the three favours which would reduce Lucius and the Malfoy name to rags by the end of the day. However, he certainly did not expect Sirius Black to welcome them like a perfect Slytherin into his well-guarded fortress and then play with them by offering them the illusion of safety like he was doing at the moment.

"This house" Sirius began with a casual tone, "has been sealed ever since I moved away to the Ancestral Manor. I am not sure if my mother's portrait went silent out of complete solitude."

Narcissa chuckled weakly. "It's… good to see you, Si- Lord Black."

"It's good to see you as well, Narcissa. I see the rumours about you inheriting Grandaunt Irma's Veela heritage were not false. You still like the senior attending Hogwarts."

Narcissa's cheeks had a slight tinge of red.

Women, Lucius decided, were weaklings when it came to other's appreciation of their looks.

"Thank you, Sirius."

Sirius turned towards Lucius. "I cannot, in good faith, say the same about you, Lucius."

Lucius suppressed the urge to snarl. Then again, he had an equally powerful urge to try apparate away, tradition be damned. If not for the knowledge of the Townhouse's overwhelming wards, he would have tried.

"What… do you want from me, Lord Black?" Lucius replied in what was perhaps his worse attempt at sounding normal. In hindsight, he could have done a lot better if he was not frightened to death.

A ghost of a smirk floated on Sirius's lips. "I do not like dancing with words. I shall get straight to the point." He paused. "The fact that you attempted assassination on my person, as well as…" His voice tightened, "my son is not something that needs to be debated."

Lucius felt his fists tighten even as Narcissa stiffened beside him.

"You did this in spite of knowing that it was, in fact, due to my son you were not declared traitors and dispatched to the French countryside to live alongside the ancestral shepherds."

Lucius felt his knuckles grow whiter.

"It is quite natural that you expect me to deliver for your transgressions which, I am sure you realise, are severe."

Lucius sagged in his seat, ready to close his eyes and accept his end. Even if he were to raise his wand in a misguided act of revenge, the wards of the Black Townhouse would kill him faster than he could draw his wand.

"However…." Sirius seemed to relish the moment. "Before we go over your punishment, let us discuss what happened over the past month."

"DISCUSS!?" Lucius lashed out in supressed rage, his voice choleric. "I fell to hubris, and your son took undue advantage of the entire situation. When your son declared himself as the Heir Black, I saw a chance and took it, wanting to claim leverage and power over the Ancient House of Potter as well. The entire plan was flawed from the start."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "I wonder, Lucius… Which start are you talking about? Are you perhaps mentioning the stage set by my son declaring himself as the Black Heir at Hogwarts this very month?" He relaxed into the comfort of the couch. "Or are you perhaps referring to the moment when I ensured Albus Dumbledore passed the law forcing Ares and me to return, forcefully I might add, to Wizarding Britain? Or perhaps" he drawled, "you might be referring to the moment where Lord Arcturus Black allowed and ordered Walburga Black to make young Draco the next in line for the Black Lordship?"

Lucius felt his throat go dry. "What… do you mean?"

Sirius beamed at him, a highly disconcerting thing.

Standing up from his couch, he walked up to the closest window, and peered outside, his gait as firm as ever. "In 1977, when my dear old mother decided to throw away the standing of the Most Ancient House of Black and lick the feet of that uppity hypocritical bastard you call a Dark Lord, allowing someone like the Noble Family of Malfoy to have more say in the affairs of my family, Lord Arcturus Black concocted a plan." Sirius turned towards Lucius and grinned. "Would you like to know what that is?"

Lucius clenched his fists.

"Lord Arcturus suggested to Walburga," Sirius's voice was dripping with amusement, "that it would be a good idea to continue with her beliefs and make young Draco the next in line to receive the Black Lordship with the inheritance ritual to be performed on his sixteenth birthday and not a day sooner. It might not be common knowledge but no one, not even Walburga Black or the acting Lord of Black can disinherit the Blood Heir without express permission from the Lord himself. Considering that my disinheritance was a matter of public record, you can be assured that it had the express permission of my grandfather, Lord Arcturus Black."

Silence.

"Why?" Narcissa breathed, not understanding the bizarre twist Sirius was revealing to them.

Sirius grinned again. "Two years later, in 1979, Grandfather, operating from the Gringotts branch in Bulgaria, voided my disinheritance, brought me back into the family, invited me to the Ancestral Manor and completed the inheritance ritual, magically and legally declaring me as the Heir Apparent and Acting Lord of Black."

"Uncle Orion had passed away in early 1978." Narcissa whispered in shock and growing horror.

Sirius's smile widened. "And my dearest mother, believing that all was well, did not even deign to check the finer details of the House. The shrew did consider herself above such menial matters."

Lucius and Narcissa looked like someone had struck with the petrification and bowel loosening hex.

Sirius smirked and continued. "Come now, Lucius. You should have realised something was amiss when my brother by blood, Regulus Black, a direct descendant of the House of Black was passed over for your son, a descendant of a cadet line."

"The funny thing about Ancient and Most Ancient Houses, Lucius…" Sirius continued, "is that they have been around long enough to understand and utilise opportunities when presented with them. One particular right we possess is that the Lord of an Ancient or Most Ancient House has the luxury to keep certain documents from public record. Of course, if requested formally through an official letter to the Lord by a member of the family, or if asked for through Ministry-mandated means, said luxury ceases to exist."

"You…." Lucius could hardly speak. "You… The latest will and testament was ordered by Lord Arcturus to be sealed away from public record."

"And me, being the respectful grandson I am, stayed true to my grandfather's wishes." Sirius was openly smiling. "It is your own arrogance that made you ignore your status as a mere Regent of the House of Black and try to retrieve documents which you had no right to access. You failed to utilise your precious Minister and even disregarded House of Potter's status as an Ancient House and filed a formal complaint, so sure of your own knowledge. I admit; the entire thing could not have gone better even if you had cooperated willingly."

In another world, Lucius would probably have had taken out his wand and done his legitimate best to kill Sirius then and there. Maybe he might even have managed a successful hit before the wards exterminated him. However, this was not one of those worlds.

Lucius felt his body droop. He had been tricked. The Blacks had been playing him all along. He could only pull his lips to ask a single question. "…. Why?"

Sirius's grin turned feral. "Do you remember Charlus Potter? Why, you were the one who led the attack on Saint Mungo's, the attack that led to Uncle Charlus and Aunt Dorea's deaths. The same Dorea Potter nee Black who was my grandfather's - the previous Lord Back - dear little sister. The same sister who had volunteered to help the patients of her own free will. Uncle Charlus was present during that moment because he wanted to protect his wife. And you, along with those mindless followers under your command, killed them."

"But…. But… the Dark Lord… the Dark Lord ordered their… deaths. The Dark…" Lucius was openly sweating now.

"And you, like the little slave that you are, marked as his cattle, bent over backwards to fulfil his every single whim, didn't you?" Sirius snarled. "Well, revenge is best served cold, as they say."

"I am… I am..."

"I must say," Sirius continued, "it worked just like Grandfather planned it. With the fall of the Dark Lord, you, Lucius Malfoy, used the Black name to garner power and prestige. In the process of doing so, you ensured that House Malfoy was subservient to the House of Black, since that is the only way for a Noble House to command the Regency of a House of the Most Ancient rank. For the better part of two decades, you have held the power over the entire Dark Alliance, and the funny thing is, all of that was done in the name of the House of Black. And now the House of Black has a Lord." Sirius sneered. "To sum the situation, you Lucius Malfoy, are my bitch."

Lucius felt his strength flag and crashed to the floor, his face deathly pale and his eyes visible wide in absolute panic.

Narcissa rushed down towards her husband in haste and concern. "Lucius? Lucius?" She cried in fear.

Lucius demonstrated no visible reaction.

Sirius walked up to him, and performed a couple of diagnostic spells. "Pfft!" he sneered. "Unfortunately, he is safe. There are no signs of cardiac anomaly or unusual brain activity. He is merely suffering from a severe anxiety attack."

Narcissa rounded back at him, her voice filled with concern and fright. "Will he be alright?"

Sirius had a distasteful expression on his face, but lifted his wand, and ignoring Narcissa's growing horror, whispered, "Cheerio!"

A couple of seconds later, the deathly pale visage lifted off Lucius as blood rushed through his face and he began coughing madly.

Narcissa breathed out in elation.

Sirius smirked.

"Not that I am not grateful for what you did, Sirius," Narcissa replied in a borderline demanding tone, "but I must ask, what do you want from us? Unless of course, it is your intention to slowly and painfully kill my husband by reducing us to paupers or slaves to your name."

The smirk vanished from Sirius's face, replaced by a stoic expression. "On the contrary, I have no wish of doing so."

Lucius coughed loudly. "You… you don't?" He groaned. Had this man nearly killed him, only to bring him back and repeat the process?

Sirius tilted his head as he relaxed back into the comforts of the couch. "You can keep the Malfoy name. You can keep your lifestyle, and your gold. You can keep the alliances House Malfoy holds with the rest of the Dark Alliance. However, you answer to me now. To the House of Black." He paused. "And I have yet to utilise the three favours you owe to my House."

A traitorous part of Narcissa's mind could not help but agree that her cousin did make a formidable Lord Black. Her grandfather had chosen wisely.

"And?" Lucius asked weakly.

"You shall discontinue the path of being a Death eater from this moment forward. I do not care how you do it, but do it you shall. You will introduce me to the rest of the Dark Alliance. You shall use your political capital, together with the rest of the Dark Alliance, to help me completely annihilate Albus Dumbledore and Voldemort."

Lucius widened his eyes. Annihilate Dumbledore?

"Let me make myself very clear, Lucius. My son, Ares, formerly Harry James Potter, is the True Lord of House Slytherin. The Lord of the same House your imposter of a Dark Lord has pretended to be a descendant of. This is your chance to truly serve House of Slytherin,and not some jumped-up mudblood offspring of the despicable Gaunt Line."

Lucius said nothing. Neither did Narcissa.

"My son, as of this moment, holds power over two Most Ancient and three Ancient Houses. He is in alliance with the Ancient House of Greengrass, and the Most Ancient House of Longbottom. That does not count the personal alliances that these Houses can call upon. Should I will it, I can easily disband the Dark Alliance and pick up survivors to join my bloc." Sirius paused for a moment, as he leaned towards Lucius, glaring at him. "So tell me Lucius, are you worth keeping?"

An hour later…

Sirius Black allowed his weary head to fall back onto the couch, as he allowed the effects of firewhiskey try and sedate his mind. It had taken patience - lots and lots of patience - to sit there, and get what he wanted out of Lucius, and not blow the bastard to smithereens as had been his original plan.

Scratch that, it had been his only plan before he had been forced to reconsider the opportunity granted to him by his grandfather - No thanks to his son's constant pestering.

Sirius let out a deep breath once again. Politics was not his field. He could not wait for his son to acquire his NEWTs and take up his rightful position at the Wizengamot. Until then, he would make sure that the pests of Albus Dumbledore and Lord Voldemort were exterminated for good.

Irrespective of what Ares thinks of them. Sirius decided.

"I sincerely hope that the plan has indeed come to fruition."

Sirius turned his head to stare at the source of the voice, his lips twisted in displeasure as he watched Edward Nott waltz his way into the room. "I received communication from Theodore that his meeting with Ares was done for the day."

Sirius scowled. He had spent his evening doing the best impression of grandfather he could while the devilspawn of a son had been lounging upstairs with Theodore Nott in the library.

"Yes." Sirius replied darkly. He did not like dealing with Edward Nott. "It certainly went as planned. House Malfoy is now under my command."

Edward clapped. "That is indeed good news. I congratulate you on your success, Lord Black."

"Do not believe this makes one jot of difference between us, Nott." Sirius stated clearly. "I do not trust you. I doubt I ever will."

Edward smiled. "It would be foolish of you to do so. The two of us are residents of different worlds, Lord Black. Your world is divided into people you love, and those you do not. My world is divided into several shards, each having its own measure of profitability. I cannot ignore them like you can."

"I am not interested in your life, Nott."

Edward chuckled. "Of course not. However, I do believe that we had an initial pact, one that could be finalized should today's plans reach fruition."

Sirius scowled. "I remember. The Houses of Black and Slytherin are in alliance with the House of Nott from henceforth. The official declaration shall have to wait till the next Wizengamot meeting."

"Splendid." Edward clapped his hands enthusiastically. "Theo, my son and the present Head of House Nott, has been rather… enthusiastic about the prospect of this alliance. With our mutual alliance with the House of Greengrass, and your alliance with the House of Longbottom, I can certainly see a powerful bloc at the Wizengamot. I am glad that as both father and Regent, I was able to fulfil his wishes."

The scowl on Sirius's face dissipated. "You are still required to make sure that the Dark Alliance does not disband. It must remain under the control of House Black."

"Silly me." Edward smiled. "Rest assured, my son is good friend with Heir Zabini, who as you might recognize, is very well related to the Most Ancient House of Selwyn. With our alliance, and with Lucius arranging the necessary capital, the Dark Alliance will find that there are worse things that can happen by not staying under the protection of House Black."

"And the other matter we discussed?"

"Progressing as promised."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "I certainly hope… that they do."

AN: Holy Shit! The Authors have returned from the dead and are updating the story!

AN2: Did you see the twist coming?

AN3: Either way… Peverells got its update as promised, and the next one will be arriving soon. For those who might be inquiring about Transcendence… you might get an update in a week's time… Skadarken is busy in his exams and I have been quite busy dillydallying (I mean working my arse off).