Chapter Two
"Get off my property before I hex you"

*Breaking News: Dark Lord Defeated, Noble and Most Ancient House of Black Heir Arrested for Heinous Crimes*

By Fredricka Amanpour, Special Correspondent

London, England - In a stunning turn of events, the nefarious reign of the Dark Lord has finally come to an end, thanks to the valiant efforts of the Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter. The Wizarding World rejoices as peace and hope are restored, and the menace that has plagued our society for far too long has been vanquished.

However, amidst the triumph of this victory, a dark cloud looms over the noble lineage of the House of Black. The heir apparent, Sirius Black, was apprehended by the Ministry of Magic late last night and stands accused of heinous crimes against the Muggle population. It is alleged that Black mercilessly slaughtered thirteen innocent individuals, leaving behind a trail of devastation and despair.

Eyewitnesses report a scene of chaos and horror, with Muggles and wizards alike left in shock at the gruesome aftermath of Black's alleged rampage. The Ministry's Aurors acted swiftly, capturing the wayward heir before he could further wreak havoc upon our society.

The arrest of Sirius Black has sent shockwaves throughout the Wizarding World, as many had believed him to be a prominent figure in the fight against the Dark Lord. With his noble lineage and esteemed heritage, his involvement in such heinous acts raises countless questions about the nature of good and evil, as well as the lengths one may go to protect their own interests.

As the details of the investigation unfold, the Ministry of Magic has vowed to bring forth a swift and fair trial to ascertain the truth behind these grave accusations. Minister for Magic, Millicent Bagnold, stated, "No one is above the law, regardless of their bloodline or previous affiliations. Justice will prevail, and the accused will be given a fair chance to defend himself."

The trial of Sirius Black promises to be a watershed moment in the post-Dark Lord era, as it forces us to examine the complexities of loyalty, family ties, and the darkness that can reside within even the most distinguished lineages.

As the Wizarding World eagerly awaits the upcoming trial, the question remains: What drove the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black heir to commit such unthinkable acts? Will justice be served, or will deeper secrets be unveiled, shedding light on a far more sinister truth?

Stay tuned to the Daily Prophet for comprehensive coverage of this unfolding saga that promises to reshape the very fabric of our society.

November 1st - 1981

Arcturus Black glared at the newspaper article before him, shaking his head in dismay. His grandson had managed to not only tarnish the family name but also jeopardise his carefully laid patriarchal plans. Frustration brewed within him, but he suppressed it as he called out, "Hermey!"

His house elf, Hermey, popped in promptly, holding a tray with an Earl Grey tea, perfectly prepared with soy milk. Arcturus gratefully accepted the tea, silently appreciating the comforting gesture. "Thank you, Hermey," he said, the softness in his tone belying his true feelings.

"Master Sirius, be making a moostake!" Hermey exclaimed in her high-pitched voice, her amber eyes filled with reverence as she presented the newspaper article to Arcturus, seeking validation for her observation.

"It's 'mistake,' Hermey, and yes, he did," Arcturus mumbled, automatically correcting her pronunciation. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of frustration at Hermey's persistent mispronunciations, despite his efforts to teach her over the years.

Hermey nodded, her tiny fingers crossed in hope, waiting eagerly for Arcturus to speak. Arcturus pinched the bridge of his nose, contemplating his options and the gravity of the situation.

"It would be great if we could acquire a Time Turner so that the boy could rectify his decisions," Arcturus mused aloud, thinking of the potential to alter the course of events.

Hermey's voice quivered with genuine concern. "We don't have a 'timey turner,' Master Arcturus."

Arcturus snapped, his frustration momentarily overriding his patience. "I know that!" he retorted, disregarding the hurt that flickered across Hermey's youthful features. "I'll be alright for now, Hermey. Thank you."

Hermey popped away, casting a backward glance at her master, her eyes reflecting a mix of loyalty and lingering hurt. Arcturus, lost in his thoughts and consumed by the weight of his responsibilities, failed to notice the impact of his words on his devoted house elf.

Trudging slowly to the library, Arcturus searched through his extensive collection of time-travelling books, determined to find a solution despite his fatigue and mounting despair. Doubt gnawed at his mind, questioning whether he was making a grave error. However, the thought of the Black family's future without a suitable heir propelled him forward.

After hours of relentless research, his fingers traced the pages of an obscure ritual that seemed to hold the promise of redemption. A surge of excitement coursed through Arcturus's weary body, invigorating him with newfound hope. Though complex and demanding, he believed he had all the necessary ingredients within the depths of his potion's storeroom.

Taking a much-needed break, Arcturus leaned back against his chair, tea in hand, and picked up the newspaper that had delivered the news of his grandson's arrest. The headline caught his attention once more: "The Dark Lord has been defeated?" His eyes scanned the article, and a massive photo of a young Harry Potter dominated the front page. The realisation struck him with startling force - he had overlooked this critical information earlier.

"Hermey?" Arcturus called out, his voice tinged with curiosity and concern.

Once again, Hermey popped into view, her eyes red-rimmed with tears and fatigue, yet her devotion remained unwavering. A smile brightened her face as she addressed her master, eager to be of assistance. "How can Hermey be helping Master Arcturus?"

Arcturus's cold smile dimmed, replaced by a seriousness born of necessity. "The Dark Lord was defeated, Hermey," he stated, his voice void of emotion, "But my grandson is still locked up, and that doesn't work for me."

Determination gleamed in Hermey's amber eyes as she declared, "Hermey is ready to help!"

Arcturus nodded, his weariness momentarily forgotten. "Let's proceed with the ritual," he instructed, holding the book open before him. He rubbed his tired eyes vigorously, determined to remain awake. Hermey, mirroring his exhaustion, followed his lead with unwavering dedication.

"Shall I wait, Master?" Hermey asked, her hands vibrating with excitement. "Yes, please wait," Arcturus murmured, distracted by the pull at his wards. He glanced towards the entrance, frowning at the interruption. It was far too late for visitors, especially unexpected ones.

"Hermey," he called out, his voice laced with irritation, "attend to the door, but be cautious. We are not to be disturbed."

With a quick pop, Hermey vanished, leaving Arcturus alone in the library. When Hermey didn't return, Arcturus frowned and went to meet whoever it was, limping slowly to the entrance with his wand tightly gripped, ready to defend his solitude if needed.

Arcturus heaved a heavy, long-suffering sigh as the door swung open, revealing the figure on the other side. It was Albus Dumbledore, the renowned Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His presence was both unsurprising and unwelcome.

"What can I do for you, Albus?" Arcturus asked, subtly trying to keep the conversation away from his mansion. Knowing Dumbledore, the light wizard could likely smell the damn ritual.

With his characteristic twinkle in his eyes, Dumbledore stepped inside without invitation. "Why don't we sit down?" he suggested, as if calling at three in the morning wasn't rude.

"Why don't we not," Arcturus countered, glaring. The twinkle left the Headmaster's eyes, leaving his face with nothing but cold, steely determination.

"I think you'll find," Albus said, stepping forward intimidatingly, but Arcturus held his ground. "That I can make your life very difficult indeed."

Arcturus shrugged. "I'm about to sleep, Albus; maybe come back in the morning?" Arcturus replied curtly, though his weariness seeped into his words.

Rather than taking his words at face value, Dumbledore narrowed his eyes, scrutinising Arcturus intently. "You aren't, of course, planning on doing something foolish, are you?" he asked, his tone dripping with condescension.

Arcturus could feel the presence of Legilimency pressing against his mind and, infuriated, stepped back, forcing his hand out and towards the Headmaster.

Arcturus arched an eyebrow, suppressing his annoyance. "Oh, of course not," he lied smoothly, confident in the barriers of his Occlumency that shielded his thoughts from prying minds, despite the man's attempt. He knew better than to reveal his true intentions to Dumbledore.

"I can understand how you feel about Sirius," Dumbledore continued, ignoring Arcturus's apparent reluctance for the conversation, along with the defiant pushing Arcturus was attempting to get Albus out of his house. But Albus, as old as he was, did not budge an inch.

"Yes, well, we can't have everything," Arcturus snapped, trying to steer the conversation away from his plans and his grandson.

"Do not do anything foolish, Arcturus," Dumbledore warned, his voice taking on a harsh edge. "Harry Potter has defeated Lord Voldemort, and if you think you can do something better, think again. Do NOT do anything foolish," he repeated, his glare so intense that it was as if magic was pouring out of the man's eyes, not his wand. Arcturus refused to look away, crossing his arms in irritation.

"I'm not going to say it again, Arcturus," Dumbledore said, his voice now a low, deadly whisper.

Arcturus felt his patience wearing thin, his annoyance with Dumbledore reaching its peak. "Yes, thank you, Albus. Now get off my property before I hex you."

Dumbledore gave him an unimpressed look, sniffed, and turned away, muttering, "I hardly believe that will be possible, Arcturus. But heed my warning, or there will be consequences."

As the door closed behind Dumbledore, Arcturus leaned against it, a mixture of frustration and determination welling up within him. He had no intention of heeding Dumbledore's warning. The fate of the Black family rested on his shoulders, and he would do whatever it took to secure their future, with or without Albus Dumbledore's blessing.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Arcturus returned to the library, where Hermey awaited his return. The encounter with Dumbledore had only strengthened his resolve. He would proceed with the ritual, consequences be damned.

If only he had a pepper-up potion, Arcturus thought to himself desperately as he rubbed his eyes forcefully and checked over the ritual again.

Carefully, he created a sacred space by cleansing the area with sage, purifying the energy surrounding him. With meticulous precision, Arcturus arranged the seven black candles in a circle, ensuring they were equidistant from each other. The flickering flames cast dancing shadows on the walls, setting the stage for the ancient rite.

Hermey, always eager to please, placed the silver dagger at the northern point of the circle, its gleaming surface reflecting the dim candlelight. Arcturus nodded in approval, acknowledging her contribution. Together, they continued to prepare the ritual, each step performed with utmost care.

Next came the black obsidian stone, a symbol of the ancestral magic of the Black family. Arcturus held it reverently, feeling its smooth surface cool against his skin. He placed it at the southern point of the circle, allowing its presence to infuse the space with the power of his lineage.

Hermey handed him the vial of moonlight water collected during a full moon, its shimmering essence capturing the ethereal glow of the night sky. Arcturus poured the water into a cauldron, its liquid forming a pool of potential and mystic energy at the centre of the circle.

With the phoenix feather in hand, Arcturus felt a surge of hope and renewal. He positioned it at the eastern point of the circle, the delicate wisps of its fiery colours contrasting against the darkness of the room. Its presence invoked the spirit of rebirth and transformation, a key component in their quest for a new beginning.

Finally, Hermey handed him the vial of dragon's blood, its rich crimson hue symbolising the power and strength of the Black lineage. Arcturus uncorked the vial, inhaling its potent aroma. He carefully placed it at the western point of the circle, signifying the elemental forces at play and the indomitable nature of his family's heritage.

Taking a deep breath, Arcturus and Hermey stood together in the centre of the circle, their eyes meeting in shared determination. The room grew still, the weight of the moment hanging in the air. Arcturus's voice rang out, his words resonating with ancient power:

"By the convergence of element and essence, by the bond of blood and spirit, we invoke the ancestral magic of the Black lineage. Let it awaken, let it guide us, and let it ensure the future of our noble house."

Their voices joined together, reciting the incantation passed down through generations. The room filled with a palpable energy, crackling with the resurgence of ancient power. The flames of the black candles danced higher, casting eerie shadows on the walls.

But amid their fervour, a slight misstep went unnoticed. Hermey, unaware of the significance, pointed to the wrong constellation while copying the pattern, mistaking Regulus for Sirius. The error, hidden in the fabric of the ritual, held the potential to alter its intended outcome.

The ritual reached its zenith, the energy swirling and spiralling around them. Arcturus could feel the pulsating force of the ancestral magic, a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty coursing through his veins. The culmination was imminent, and the consequences of their actions remained shrouded in mystery.

Then, without warning, a surge of magical energy reverberated through the room. The force of the blast knocked Arcturus off his feet, his body crashing against the large wooden desk. Pain coursed through him, but his focus remained fixed on the aftermath of the ritual.

Slowly, he pushed himself up, his senses reeling from the impact. The room fell silent, the flames of the candles extinguished, leaving only wisps of smoke in their wake. Arcturus's gaze shifted to Hermey, her eyes filled with awe and uncertainty.

"Hermey..." Arcturus called out, his voice rich with anticipation and hope.

"Master Arcturus!" Hermey exclaimed, bouncing up and down excitedly, her voice barely containing her joy. "It's worked! The ritual 'tis working! Mother Magic accepted Master's sacrifice!"

And true to her word, Arcturus could feel the Black magic surrounding the manor like a warm blanket on a cold winter night. The Black Magic had picked an heir. Sirius was free at last.

Relief washed over Arcturus, a glimmer of hope lighting up his weary features. The ritual had been successful. However, an unshakable feeling of unease gnawed at him, a whisper of doubt that something had gone amiss.

"Here, Hermey," Arcturus said, quickly scribing a note to his grandson to protect his freedom and handing her the sealed letter. "Bring this to Sirius, and then rest, please. We've had a long night."

Hermey bowed and promptly apparated, carrying the letter with her to find Sirius. Meanwhile, Arcturus banished the ritual to the dungeons to clean later, his fatigue catching up with him. Dragging himself to his bed, he collapsed onto the soft sheets, feeling knackered but right pleased with himself. It had worked.

It couldn't have been more than 30 minutes later when he heard shouting from his grandson filtering through the thick walls just as sleep began to claim him. Startling awake by the loud shouts of: "GRANDFATHER!" Arcturus sighed, forcing energy into himself as he sat up.

"No! Master Arcturus be sleeping," Hermey growled at him, her voice pitching higher in her righteous anger.

Arcturus sighed, realising there would be no rest for him. He knew he couldn't keep Sirius waiting and needed to address the situation immediately.

"It's okay, Hermey," he reassured her. "Send him up and get some rest, please."

With a weary sigh, Arcturus prepared himself for the conversation that awaited him. Sirius must have run up the four floors to his room, his footsteps echoing loudly. Arcturus braced himself for the encounter, knowing there were explanations to be given and truths to be uncovered.

"Sirius," he called out, his voice filled with relief and concern.

"Grandfather! What a smart idea to use a house elf," Sirius greeted him with a hint of amusement.

Arcturus, taken aback by Sirius' words, looked at him strangely. "I hardly wanted to perform a Patronus," he responded, irritation creeping back into his voice as fatigue weighed heavily upon him.

Confusion flashed across Sirius' face. "I- What?" he asked, looking thoroughly bewildered.

"What do you mean, what? I sent you a letter not to do anything stupid to get yourself locked up in Azkaban."

Silence met these words, and it looked like Sirius was trying to avoid giving him a heart attack.

"Grandfather, I received your letter in Azkaban. How did you plan for me to do something dumb? I already did and ended up locked up! Your house elf agreed to take me with her back to you upon my request."

Arcturus sat bolt upright, his face stark white, his heart pounding in his chest. "Y-you were in Azkaban?"

"Was it not all over the papers?" Sirius asked, his voice stained with bitterness.

Arcturus clutched his heart, the sound fading from his senses. The old man's trembling hands sought support from the nearest surface, his breath becoming shallow and rapid. Sirius stood frozen in shock, his eyes wide with concern. The room seemed to close in on Arcturus as his chest tightened, constricting his every breath. His vision blurred, and his legs threatened to give way beneath him.

Sirius rushed to Arcturus' side, his youthful strength steadying the frail form of his grandfather. "Grandfather, what's happening?" he asked, his voice filled with worry.

Arcturus could only manage a strained whisper, his voice barely audible. "Can't... breathe," he gasped, his face contorted with fear. The panic attack had taken hold of him, its grip tightening with every passing moment.

With a trembling hand, Sirius reached for his wand, his fingers fumbling it as he attempted the Patronus charm. "Expecto Patronum!" He yelled, but it was no use. There was nothing in the world that made him happy now.

"Grandfather! Breathe for me!" he said instead.

Giving up, he threw Floo powder into the fireplace but had no idea who to call. Gritting his teeth, he decided on his Aunt Andromeda, who had healer knowledge. There surely was no way he was going to call Snape.

"Tonks residence!" he called into the fire, putting his head in while looking back towards his grandfather, who still wasn't breathing well.

"Sirius?" a voice asked as Andromeda Tonks approached the fireplace.

"Aren't you supposed to be in—" Sirius scowled, "Please don't finish that sentence, Aunty. It's Grandfather; he is having a panic attack. He's struggling to breathe, and his heart... it feels like it's going to burst."

Andromeda nodded as Sirius relayed the details and told him she'd be there. With a sigh, Sirius removed his head from the Floo and returned to his grandfather, who was still clutching his chest.

Arcturus clung to his grandson's arm, finding solace in his presence. Sirius spoke soothingly to the man, his words a lifeline amidst the chaos of the panic attack. "It's going to be okay, Grandfather. Help is on the way. Just focus on your breathing; try to take slow, deep breaths."

Arcturus nodded weakly, his body trembling with the effort to regain control. With each guided breath from Sirius, the tension in his chest began to ease, the panic slowly subsiding. The room gradually came back into focus, the sound returning properly to Arcturus' senses.

Minutes later, Andromeda arrived, her calm and reassuring presence providing further comfort to Arcturus and Sirius. She assessed the situation, offering medical assistance to stabilise Arcturus' condition. Her expertise and care provided a sense of relief, both for Arcturus and for Sirius, who had been filled with overwhelming worry.

As Arcturus began to regain his composure, he looked into Sirius' eyes, gratitude and vulnerability shining through his own. "Thank you, my dear boy," he whispered, his voice still weak. "Your strength and support... it means the world to me." He then looked towards Andromeda, an extremely grateful look on his face. "I'm adding you back into the family," was all he said. She stared at him, shocked into silence.

"Go now, I'm alright, dear." He told her, and she nodded. "I'll be in touch."

Andromeda looked back to Sirius as if wanting to say something but thought better of it, instead entering the Floo and disappearing.

Sirius smiled softly, his eyes moist with unshed tears. "I'll always be here for you, Grandfather. We'll get through this together."

Arcturus inclined his head, stroking his chin as he gestured for Sirius to sit. As the boy did, Arcturus leaned back into his chair, sleep wholly gone from his mind.

The Black Family Magic had indeed picked an heir after the ritual, but if Sirius had been in Azkaban and was now an escaped prisoner, that was the least of his worries.

Something very wrong had happened with the ritual, and he had no idea what it was. Someone out in the world was his heir, and it wasn't Sirius.

Amidst the dilapidated surroundings, an air of desolation hung heavy in a rundown part of Nottingham. If one were to look carefully, one would see the faint ripples disturbing the murky water of an old, forgotten pond. Beneath the surface, a toddler with jet-black hair clinging to his pale skin fought desperately, struggling to catch his breath as he gasped for air, his tiny arms flailing. He was drowning, the weight of the water pressing against his chest, but life burnt fiercely in his young mind.

With a final surge of determination, the toddler's gasps turned into a desperate cry, and he emerged from the water, soaked to the bone. His tiny body trembled with both fear and newfound vitality. He clutched something tightly in his little hand, his knuckles white against the backdrop of his pale skin. It was a necklace, intricately designed and gleaming with a dark allure.

It took a moment for the boy to come to himself, staring fist at the locket in his hand and then himself. An inhumane sound fell from his lips, falling on deaf ears as it fled with the cool wind.

The locket, a Horcrux, had plagued his thoughts and driven his actions in the final moments of his previous life. It had been the object of his sacrifice, his last act of defiance against the dark lord and his twisted ideals. And now, as he stood on the precipice of a second chance, the locket remained with him, a symbol of the darkness he had faced and the burden he carried.

Regulus Arcturus Black, reborn in this moment of resurfacing, his memories intact, stared at the locket in his hand. The symbol of Salazar Slytherin's twisted legacy seemed to pulsate with dark energy, resonating with his very being. But unlike before, he no longer saw it as a representation of evil. It had been a catalyst for his transformation, a catalyst for his rebellion.

Once filled with innocence and curiosity, the toddler's eyes now held a steely resolve. He knew the darkness that awaited him and understood the dangers and challenges ahead. Yet, he also carried within him the lessons of his past life, the determination to forge a different path, to confront the shadows that had consumed his family.

As Regulus took his first unsteady steps on solid ground, he carried the weight of his family's history with him but was no longer burdened by it. He had returned from the depths, a phoenix reborn from the ashes of his former self. The locket clutched tightly in his hand served as a constant reminder of his purpose, of the journey that lay ahead.

In the rundown part of Nottingham, where shadows danced with secrets and forgotten tales whispered through the air, Regulus Arcturus Black stood as a symbol of resurrection and the potential for redemption. The future beckoned him, and he would carry the weight of his family's legacy on his young shoulders, determined to shape his destiny and uncover the truth hidden within the depths of his past.

Attention readers! For anyone new to this story, wait for the next update for the third chapter revamp before continuing! Enjoy!