Arcturus Black is five years old, playing on the sandy beach in the grounds of Black Manor, his family watching. He is the only one not currently swaddled by a wetnurse — his little brother, Regulus, who does not like the beach — or restrained by cooing aunties — his sister, Lycoris, and their older cousins, Cassandra, Calliope, and Cora. He is building a castle made of sand, one which he imagines is roughly like Hogwarts, though does not quite measure up to the memories of the adults around him. His grandfather, Phineas, laughs affectionately when Arcturus writes the school's name in the sand, the lines wobbly and ill-formed.
"You're missing quite a few towers," Grandfather tells him, "there's only three there."
"I didn't think I needed Gryffindor," Arcturus says, and everyone laughs. "But I did yours, Grandfather — look!"
He points to the tallest tower, which is supposed to be the headmaster's tower. He knows it isn't really the tallest, but he thinks it should be. His grandfather is the most important person there, after all.
"So you did," Grandfather says, and ruffles his hair affectionately. Arcturus tries to pat it back down, knowing how father will frown if it is out of place. "Good lad, Archie."
He leaves, then, and Arcturus pouts, sitting down on the sand and wondering what he can do next. He doesn't want to talk to everyone; the adults are boring and his cousins even moreso, and anyway father is upset with his eldest brother over something, which Uncle Cygnus — the youngest, now in his final year at Hogwarts — wants to state his opinion on at every opportunity. Arcturus doesn't quite understand it. Apparently Uncle Phineas thinks Muggles should have something called rights, and this is a disgrace to the family. He says he knows of two wizards of a similar age to him, keen to change the world, and he says, shockingly, that Muggles should be allowed to know about magic, which is directly against the policies of their family and Grandfather, Lord Phineas.
Arcturus, who has yet to perform any magic, still does not fully grasp the concept of someone simply not knowing about it. It is innate to his existence and his understanding of the world, and he knows that he will only be complete once he has performed magic for the first time. The earth turns round the sun, the river flows to the ocean, and magic is everywhere, and it is life itself. Mother told him so, in his lessons about magical theory. Magic is the spirit which keeps witches and wizards alive, and lingers long after their death. Muggles don't have magic, though. It is unnatural to him; they must not be fully human, he thinks, and no one would ever tell him otherwise, so that is the end of it, in his child's mind.
Still, he thinks, he has not yet performed magic, and he has to start soon, to be sure that he is a wizard and not a filthy squib. Cassandra and Calliope have both managed it, but Cora hasn't, and there are whispers that something is wrong with her, that she might have to be sent away; Arcturus imagines a school like Hogwarts, for younger children, who need to learn to feel magic before they can control it. He will be proven wrong in later years; he will see first hand what happens to Wizarding children who fail to perform magic as they ought.
But for now, little Arcturus Black builds a castle in the sand. When the sea washes it away, many hours later, he hides the feeling of loss inside of him, and makes plans to rebuild it better, and bigger, the next day.
-*
Arcturus is seven, and has just been caught creeping about his father's library in the middle of the night, by the light of a gas lamp he extinguished, and then lit again by magic, frightened of the dark he stumbled into. Now he stands before his father's desk in his study, high silver moonlight streaming in through the frosted back window and illuminating his father in a light like the phantom aura of a ghost.
His hands are burning from the birch — he was not supposed to be out of bed, and disobedience will not be tolerated. But he used magic to light the lamp, right before his father's eyes, and there is pride shining in that gaze now.
"You're a wizard after all, then," his father says softly, "you were beginning to worry us, Arcturus."
"I am sorry, Father," he says, trying to hide the sting of his hands, and of his family's doubt. If he cries, his father will take the birch to him again. He is growing up now. He must not be weak.
"Sorry for what?"
"For giving you reason to doubt my skills. For not being able to do magic earlier. And for sneaking about the library, when I know I shouldn't. I just wanted to..." He trails off. He knows he shouldn't tell his father what he was looking for; Mother said no one can be trusted but her, and that his Father is a wicked man, distrustful, who will never let Arcturus breathe or live the way he wants to.
"Speak up, Arcturus. Do not mumble to the floor like that."
"I — I wanted to know about ghosts."
He forces himself to meet his father's eyes, only slightly relieved that there is not the expected anger there. Instead, his father seems delighted by the curiosity, and the opportunity to tell him secrets that he has only ever heard whispered in the manor walls.
"What did you want to know about ghosts, Arcturus?"
"Where they come from," he tells him quickly, words coming out in a breathless rush. He can't quite believe Father is letting him ask questions, or that he might actually get some answers. "How they choose to become ghosts. And why there are none here."
"Who told you there are no ghosts? You have felt them, haven't you?"
"Yes, but, Uncle Cygnus says he can see the ones at Hogwarts! And that they feel different to the ones here, like these ones aren't real ghosts."
"Uncle Cygnus should not be talking to you about ghosts," his father said sternly, with the same look in his eye as he does when he is about to give Arcturus or his siblings a telling-off. "But, yes, there is a difference. Our ancestors are more accurately defined as spirits, but they do not all dwell here. You know they only come when asked — it is because they have passed through the veil, as ghosts do not, and they are tied to the land. Our ancestors have made peace with death. Most of them. Those who have not..." He trailed away, gaze flickering to the portrait of his own grandfather on the wall. "This is a conversation for when you are older. It is a secret, Arcturus, how our family communes with death. One shared only amongst the lords and their heirs."
He stops speaking, and as he had not asked a question, Arcturus is afraid to say anything of his own. After a moment, Father speaks again, "You are dismissed, Arcturus. I shall have no further talk of ghosts — or sneaking around the manor at night."
"Yes, Father," he says and bows his head. "I am sorry, Father."
"Your nanny is waiting to take you to bed. I shall speak with you later."
And so he leaves, hands still stinging with pain.
-*
Arcturus is nine and Uncle Phineas has disappeared. He does not come to Allantide at the end of October, nor is he reported to have attended anybody else's celebrations of All Hallow's Eve. He is not there for the Winter Solstice, or for Christmas, or New Year's Eve. He does not visit Father on his birthday, and or Arcturus when he turns ten, and Arcturus does not get to see the triplets on their eleventh birthday.
He asks his mother why, and where they went, and she replies tiredly, that Uncle Phineas has betrayed his blood, and Arcturus must not ask about him again.
He looks through the Daily Prophet for signs of them, and finds nothing, except a throwaway line about Phineas Black being spotted in a gentlemen's club with Fleamont Potter. The Potters are respectable enough; that alone is not a betrayal. It must be because he liked muggles, Arcturus thinks, or because Cora's magic is weak and Phineas said he would love her even if she turned out to be a squib.
Arcturus still loves his cousins, and he doesn't know if Cora is a squib or not. But he is the heir of his family. He cannot betray them.
Yet over dinner at Easter, Arcturus mentions his uncle and the table goes quiet. His mother pales, as she does when she is about to faint. Father stared at him with cold eyes.
"My brother has turned his back on his family," he says, voice and face both devoid of emotion. "He has turned his back on his blood."
"But he hasn't done anything bad," Arcturus says tentatively. "Don't we still love him?" Great-Aunt Elladora stares at him like he has just said an ugly word. "Is it because he thinks muggles should be allowed to know about magic?"
"I will not have this discussion over polite dinner," his father says, scowling. "Uncle Phineas is a fool."
"So we don't love him?"
"Family is not love, Arcturus," Father says, and his mother looks like she is about to burst into tears. "This family is political. My brother's views are incompatible with those of the family, in fact they undermine and are hateful to our very existence. He cannot be associated with us. And we cannot associate with him any longer."
"But I liked Uncle Phineas," pipes up Lycoris, and Father's face softens somewhat as he looks at her. Lycoris can get away with anything, all sweetness and smiles, and she isn't expected to understand politics anyway.
"Unfortunately, he did not like us."
Lycoris looks like she might cry at that. She is sensitive, but she is only seven. Arcturus' mother drops her fork and it clatters to the ground and she lets out a muffled sob. Uncle Cygnus pats her unhelpfully on the back.
"No more talk of blood traitors," Elladora says, looking round imperiously at them all, "or shall I have your heads cut off and mounted like the house elves."
Father and Uncle Cygnus and Aunt Belvina laugh uproariously. Mother bursts into tears and the children merely force laughter, suppressing shivers.