Head of the Family

1947

In late January of 1947, Gaius floo-called Septimus and asked him to come over. Septimus had a feeling he knew what it was about, so he took the day off and headed over to the Cottage. His suspicions were more or less borne out when he discovered his father was in his office. The only times his father had summoned him for a talk in there - well, that room was strictly for business purposes only. There were only so many topics his father could want to discuss with him if he was wanting to talk there.

His father's office was pretty crowded, despite it having been magically expanded at some point - possibly at several points, given the length of time their family had been around and how many of them there were. There were ceiling-to-floor bookcases covering every inch of the walls, crowded with scrolls, books, and journals. The shelves immediately behind his father's desk also had sheaves of parchment scattered on top of the books in a seemingly random fashion. There was also a single cabinet situated behind the desk, between it and the shelves against the wall. The desk, an enormous monstrosity made from English Oak and one of the very few items of any worth the Weasleys had managed to hang on to, was covered in stacks of parchment, scrolls, books, quills, bottles of ink and lots of random odds and ends.

Despite the chaotic look of the room, Septimus knew from experience that his father could find anything he needed within seconds without resorting to magic. Septimus didn't pretend to understand how that was possible, and dreaded having to make sense of all that mess and organize it in a way he could work with.

"Son, I know we talked last year about me stepping down early." Gaius said after they'd greeted each other and settled in their respective seats. "And I know you boys have plans for the future, and your time together amongst the wolves." He grinned a bit at describing the Wizengamot that way. "And Harfang is in there alone at the moment. I also know you and Charlus spent most of the latter half of last year helping him find his feet in there as best you could. From what I saw of him in there, it worked."

Gaius sighed. "We both know things are getting more and more shady and difficult in there." He said. "I don't have the temperament – or the backup – to continue much longer without things starting to go really badly. You don't want to know how often in the last year I've had to bite the inside of my mouth bloody to keep from saying or doing something I know is stupid in reaction to someone's shenanigans."

Gaius took a deep breath. "I honestly think our Family would be best served with me stepping down. You've a far calmer temperament than I do, for starters, and you've Cedrella at your side to help you in that pit. Not to mention your informal alliance with Longbottom and Potter. The only reason I've waited this long since you first brought it up is because you really didn't need to be dealing with adjusting to the Family Magic and finding your own feet in the Wizengamot while trying to help Harfang at the same time."

Gaius then turned and pulled a small metal bowl and athame out of the cabinet behind his desk. He turned back around and cleared a flat space to set the bowl on that was roughly equidistant between them.

No one really knew how the Family Magics came to be … or if they had known at some point, the knowledge had long since been lost. What was known was that Family Magic began to appear when two generations of wizards were born under the same name. It was very weak and diffuse at first, but gradually gained in strength the longer the family existed. It took a minimum of ten generations to attain full power. At that point, family magic protected the Head of the family from all forms of magical coercion – even the Imperius – and allowed him to command and enforce the obedience of the members of his family to his decrees, if he used certain ritual phrases. It also enforced alliances and oaths, allowed for someone to be adopted into or removed from the family, and levied punishments on oath breakers, among other things.

These facts had been the start of the pureblood extremist movement. Certain families decided that the existence of family magic made them better than the common rabble. The other families, while willing to concede that family magic had its advantages, insisted it didn't make them better than muggleborns. More than one person over the years had posited that muggleborns might just be descendants of pureblood lines through the squibs that had slowly become more and more common. After a few generations, any knowledge of their magical roots would have been lost, so that when a child was born with magic, it would assumed to be an accident of nature. Unfortunately, no research had been done into this possibility. That said, Septimus knew of one Muggleborn who had heard about the idea nearly a hundred years ago, did extensive research into their family tree and actually found a magical some ten generations back or something of the sort. It could have been mere chance, but then again, maybe not.

Fortunately for the families that possessed it, while the family magic was usually wielded by a Head of Family until their death, it was possible to name a successor and transfer control of the family magic prior to death. It had even been done fairly frequently, due to ill health or mental issues caused by increasing age. Twice in known history, family magic had preemptively torn itself away from a Family Head that was abusing their power and choose a successor on its own. Needless to say, the subjects of this tearing had rather gone down in infamy. In both cases, the families had died out within ten generations, though whether that was family magic punishing the family or just a natural consequence of no one wanting anything to do with such a family and them not being able to find spouses as a result Septimus hadn't a clue.

Septimus had had the ritual to transfer Headship memorized since before he went to Hogwarts. Every Heir did, against the sudden death of the Head of the family. While the Heir could not take his place as Head fully until he reached the age of 17, they could begin to undertake control of certain aspects of Headship as early as age fourteen. Nobody *wanted* to have to perform the ritual at fourteen, but they all prepared for it just in case. They had to memorize it because a Regent was not Head of the Family and thus couldn't do the ritual when the Heir was old enough to start taking on the mantle.

Gaius took the athame and cut his palm enough for it to bleed freely for a few moments, then held his hand over the bowl. "I, Gaius Weasley, Head of the Weasley Family, do here invoke the Family Magics, that they may bear witness to the oaths of myself and my son."

There was an immediate wash of the warm, welcoming, bright magic Septimus remembered from his wedding. He fought down a blush as his mind almost immediately diverted to memories of what had followed the last time he'd felt this magic around him.

Across the desk, Gaius grinned at him, well aware of where Septimus' mind had just gone. After all, he'd had much the same happen to him. Normally, an Heir's first experience with the family magic was when they took a wife, so it was hardly surprising.

Gaius took a breath and continued. "I do here of my own free will set down my responsibilities as Head of Family Weasley, and name Septimus Weasley as my successor, so mote it be."

There was a slight hesitation, and Septimus could have sworn he could feel actual *reluctance* on the part of the family magics to turn loose of Gaius, but then the magics gathered, visibly pulling away from Gaius as thick red-gold threads. The threads gathered into a central mass, losing their thread-like appearance in the process, and hovered between Gaius and Septimus as an enormous amorphous blob. As soon as it was totally free, Gaius' shoulders sagged, and Septimus had to restrain the urge to ask if he was all right. He knew that the family magics would not hurt his father - Gaius was just reacting to not having that power wrapped around him for the first time in decades.

It helped him to keep his mouth shut when Septimus realized that once the family magic was free of Gaius, he was *not* imagining an air of expectation that was emanating from the big blob of magic. He took a deep breath as he took the athame from Gaius and cut his own palm enough for it to bleed freely for a few moments, holding his hand over the bowl where Gaius' hand remained, their fingers touching, blood intermingling briefly before it dripped into the bowl.

"I, Septimus Weasley, eldest son and Heir of the Weasley Family, of my own free will give my oath to Family and to Magic, on my life and magic, that I will to the best of my ability protect, honor and serve Magic and Family Weasley. I will speak in their name, hold their charge sacred, and permit none to defile them unchallenged, be they Family, friend, enemy or stranger. So mote it be."

A thin tendril of magic snapped out from the blob and dipped into the bowl, briefly touching the blood there as if to double check the veracity of who had called it and who was wanting to take it on. Then the tendril retreated and the blob of red-gold magic swooped forward and enveloped Septimus. He had to actively fight his instinct to duck despite knowing *this* bit of magic coming at him would not harm him. At absolute worst, it would find him unfit to be Head and refuse to settle on him, returning to Gaius or going to one of Septimus' brothers if Gaius absolutely refused to retain it.

It wrapped around him like a warm cloak on a winter's day. Septimus could actually sense something like emotions from it; chiefly curiosity and a sense of welcome. He felt it touch his mind, something he'd been forewarned about (as were all heirs) to judge his mind and heart.

What he hadn't been expecting was to relive flashes of his life as the family magic rifled through his mind to see if he was worthy of taking up the mantle of Head of House. After what felt like days, but had actually only been a minute or so, the family magic settled more tightly around him.

For a moment, it felt as if Septimus had the weight of the world on his shoulders as the family magic settled on him, twining around his own magic and merging with it. Disconcertingly, for a moment he could see in his mind's eye a complex web of magic, each thread linking him to a Weasley-by-birth, no matter where they were in the world. He couldn't feel their emotions or hear their thoughts, but if they were in mortal danger, died, or had broken an oath, he knew that he would know. He would also know when a new Weasley was born. He might not be able to do anything about such information immediately, due primarily to how wide-spread the family was. He wouldn't always find out instantly when an oath was given and why, for instance, and any hope of getting to someone in mortal danger when they were a continent or more away was nil. That said, he'd know it had happened, and could prepare to respond to whatever was going on as fast as possible.

Those threads would also permit him to enforce obedience to his decrees, if someone fought him, however unlikely that would be, in their family. Doing so wasn't easy, and required a specific ritual in its own right, but it could be done. Same went for banishing someone from the family, or adopting them into it.

Septimus found himself sitting down rather quickly and forcibly as he tried to adjust to the weight, depth, and damn-near sentience of the family magic. Gaius, across from him, watched him sympathetically.

"Just breathe, son. It'll stop being so overwhelming in a bit." Gaius advised.

Septimus blew out a breath that was half amused snort. "Not so sure about that at the moment." He said. "No wonder you fumbled so badly trying to explain all this, and didn't want me trying to adapt to this while helping Harfang. I don't know that I'll do any better when it comes to telling my heir. This is … " He blew out another breath. "I really don't understand how any Head could … " He waved a hand, helpless to get the words out.

"I thought much the same thing, when I took the mantle." Gaius said, understanding what Septimus meant - the idea of abusing their power as Head and facing the wrath of such powerful magic was damned intimidating. "Nevertheless, there have been Heads that have gone against that oath. Small wonder they didn't last long after they did so."

"I envy Charlus. It'll just be him, his parents and grandparents when he takes the Headship."

"I don't think it weighs any lighter on them for their lack of extended family, son. If anything, it might be heavier, because *everything* depends on him and his heir." Gaius pointed out.

"Hmm. Good point. Remind me to compare notes with Charlus someday." Septimus said.

Gaius laughed. "I'll do that." He promised. Then he turned and pulled a small bag from the cabinet behind him, putting the bowl and athame in it. "You'll be needing to take these with you." He said. "You'll not need them often, but you will need them. We can deal with all of this." He waved to the contents of his office. "Another day. Or week." He eyed the room again. "Or month, maybe."

Septimus snickered at his father's opinion of how long it'd take to go through the mess and transfer it to the Den. He probably wasn't wrong about the longest estimate. It wasn't until he reached forward to grab the bag that Septimus realized the cut on his palm had healed. It had healed so well that there was no indication he'd ever cut it. While he knew that would happen, it was still somewhat startling to see it.

"The Wizengamot's going to be in for a few surprises." Septimus said with a grin.

"I honestly don't think they have the faintest clue what they're going to be up against with you boys." Gaius said. "It will be fun to hear all about it. I fully expect for there to be full-blown tantrums thrown before all is said and done … and not by you three."

That made Septimus laugh. "You're probably right … there probably will be." He admitted. "If only because from what you've said, some of the Heads are rather childish."

Gaius snorted. "That's one way of putting it. There's more than one I sometimes have to double check to make sure they're not still in diapers, they act like such infants."