Chapter 14: A rule of civility

They'd reached dessert – the children talking amongst their own groups, sometimes addressing others, too, and occasionally asking a question to Sirius, Melania or Arcturus – when the Black patriarch asked for everyone's attention once more.

"Tomorrow afternoon, we'll be going to Diagon Alley to get all of you decent wardrobes. We'll see about Hogwarts supplies another time, after we've arranged something with the Headmaster."

Sirius noticed the group of four siblings – Eleanor Rowle's – exchanging looks at that last part, almost excited. What about, he couldn't guess – not unless they were all really pumped-up Ravenclaws, but that seemed a bit unlikely.

His grandfather finished with a sweeping gaze over his newly-acquired great-grandchildren:

"I've contacted some family members to watch over all of you during tomorrow's outing. Irma and Callidora responded to my floo call, but I couldn't get a hold of Lucretia, we'll see if she gets my letter on time or not. I also had the idea to invite Theresa, I hope you don't mind, Sirius?"

Arcturus' grandson had been about to ask a question, but stopped himself, frowning.

"...Your sister's partner?"

"Yes, Lycoris' Theresa. I haven't seen much of her since Lycoris' passing, and I hear she doesn't get out much. They didn't have children, of course, so I'm not sure how many people still visit her. It might be good for her, to join us on this shopping trip."

The fact that yet another pureblood escorting their little outing would provide as much protection went unsaid, but not unacknowledged. Death Eaters would think twice before performing a terror strike if they saw a high number of purebloods around, mostly because they'd have at least one member of their acknowledged extended family in the middle of it – it might not be enough to stop some of them, not if they had a specific goal, but that wasn't the definition of a terror strike.

Sirius gave Juliet her share of cake, thinking.

The House of Rosier was much less controversial than, say, his own family. They tended to be blood purists, true, but only a handful were actual blood extremists, and the fact that they were almost equally Sorted between Hufflepuff and Slytherin likely had something to do with that. Aunt Druella had opinions, sure, but she wasn't one to act on those. The ones who were really dangerous were her younger brother Anthems – whom Dumbledore had told the Order had most definitely been a Death Eater before his suspicious death five years prior – and his older son Evan, who got along with their mutual cousin Bellatrix a bit too well and was most likely spending his evenings in the same way as she did.

Theresa Rosier, herself, was seventy-five and a former Hufflepuff prefect. She'd been in a relationship with Sirius' great-aunt Lycoris despite having the death glare of Old Ursula Black, née Flint, on her back for the whole duration of it. From the stories about his great-great-grandmother, Sirius surmised Theresa was either very courageous or very unflappable.

"...I guess she can come too. Do you know if Callidora is bringing Harfang? And, wait, did you just imply you were coming with us?"

This time it was Melania who answered, turning back from her conversation with Altair, the boy with vivid blue eyes.

"And why shouldn't your grandfather come, Sirius? We are going to supervise eighteen, no, nineteen children, I sure hope we will be numerous enough not to all enter the same shop together and to keep an eye on all of them. Especially as, if I understand well, some relatives were... vetoed."

Sirius scowled.

"Yes, well, I would invite Dad, except he comes with a very special kind of bloodhound that I'm not interested in seeing before I absolutely have to."

His grandmother raised her eyebrows but didn't comment on the description he'd made of his mother. It was for the better, really – and she most likely knew that – because he wasn't in the mood to discuss Walburga Black in front of a dozen and a half relative strangers. Hell, maybe some of the kids knew their grandmother, maybe they already had opinions on the subject, but Sirius couldn't know that and he didn't want to deal with it right now.

"I'm just saying, I wasn't expecting Grandfather to come. Shopping isn't really what I imagine when I think of him."

Remembering his concerns when they'd first had that conversation, Sirius added:

"How did Grandmother Irma get rid of her husband, anyway? Because I imagine Grandfather Pollux is... testy, after this afternoon. He wouldn't let her accompany the children alone."

Arcturus snorted, then tried to render a faithful impression of his conversation with Irma through the floo, one hour before. The old witch had been collected, demure as usual, and Pollux had probably not realized that she'd gotten exactly what she wanted out of his indignance.

"I think it went something like this: 'Of course, Arcturus, I'll be here. Pollux has decided to visit our daughter and Orion tomorrow, to inform them of the recent developments, and I'm certain he'd rather one of us be present nonetheless. We couldn't honestly leave you to deal with these new familial changes alone. These children are our great-grandchildren too, after all.'"

Sirius raised an eyebrow and shook his head. He still had no idea of what was going through his grandmother's head – Grandmother Melania was much easier to parse, honestly – but he could tell that her husband didn't have a grasp on her true thought process either.

Mostly because Pollux Black generally assumed that not speaking up meant you agreed with him.

"So Grandmother Irma gets exactly what she wants, being with the children without her husband breathing down her neck. I see where Alphard got his ability to seduce anyone he came across."

Melania gave her grandson a thin smile at those words. Sirius wasn't wrong, but his uncle's feats amongst witches – and occasionally wizards – were perhaps not the most appropriate subject of discussion when he was sitting next to a five-year-old child. At least the baby was sleeping upstairs.

"Irma and Alphard certainly did share a gift to get people where they wanted them, but mother and son didn't exactly use that gift in a similar way."

Alphard Black's antics aside, Melania wasn't blind to the dynamics in Irma and Pollux's marriage. Mostly Irma remained calm and quiet so that her husband wouldn't start questioning her opinions – and often she managed to bring him to a mellower attitude by slowly guiding him out of the corners he'd claimed for himself. Pollux himself was much more... opinionated... than Melania's husband, and therefore needed handling if they didn't want him to fall into the worst crowd.

These days, the worst crowd was a very worrying set of people. Their beliefs were disputable, of course – Melania didn't much care for those beliefs, but she knew Arcturus partially agreed with some of their base propositions – but more disturbing were the lengths they were willing to go to ensure their victory.

There could be no discussion with the Death eaters – only agreement or oppression. No way, either, to convince them otherwise, to try and understand why they thought that way, to show them it wasn't all there was. Yes, they were better off letting Irma manage Pollux – at least that way, Arcturus' cousin wouldn't start getting ideas about actually acting on his beliefs.

Melania's grandson seemed to be having similar thoughts, considering the look of disdain that crossed his face for a second, before he went back to Arcturus' statement.

"Right. So, you're coming. Question, when in the afternoon do you intend to go? I'm working tomorrow, and it should take some time to go through a wardrobe for everyone. I don't think I'll be able to get there before a quarter past three."

Arcturus reached inside his robes for his wand – cherry wood, dragon heartstring – but his wife caught him with a stern look.

"No wand at the table unless you plan on helping with service."

It was a rule the Macmillans had followed for decades, and it prevented all kinds of food-related incidents – as well as some more serious fights – during a meal. Anyone who refused to comply could go and eat alone in the private dining room. Back when she and Arcturus were only engaged, Melania had attended three Black family get-togethers and decided that when she would be the one running Black Manor, the rule would come with her.

Not unexpectedly, Lucretia and Orion were much better mannered than Pollux's children, when tempers rose around a dining table.

In a less-expected way, her grandson had learned to take advantage of that rule to get away from building shouting matches, forcing his father to exile him from the dining table whenever he didn't feel like listening to a certain kind of conversations.

Trust Sirius to manipulate a rule of civility into whatever he wanted to make of it.

Melania's husband nodded at her and let his hand fall back on the edge of the table, fingers tapping away his instinct to get his wand in order to follow the house rule he'd forgotten for a moment.

"Right. Irma, Callidora and Theresa agreed to come through the floo by two o'clock. We should be ready to leave around two fifteen, and you'll join us as soon as you're out of the Ministry. First order of business will be to go to Gringotts, because I do not walk around with enough money to clothe a dozen and a half teens on a daily basis. Then we'll split between shops."

Melania continued for him:

"I'd suggest Madam Malkin's for everyday wear, I've been there a few times since it opened three years ago, and Twilfitt & Tattings for at least one more formal attire. No more than four children at the same time inside one shop, especially clothing shops, considering they'll have to wait for their robes to be fitted."

Arcturus frowned, trying to place the name Malkin – and, oh, right.

"Isn't that Malkin girl the one who married an Avery last winter, from the halfblood branch Andromachus swears up and down isn't related to him in any way?"

Everyone in the right circles knew how untrue such a statement was, even if their common ancestor went back almost two centuries in the Avery family's tree – purebloods had a long memory for blood indiscretions, rivaled only by their capacity to pretend they knew nothing of it when in polite – or, some would say, mixed – company.

"Yes, it's her. She didn't change the name of the shop after the wedding. Considering what happened to her husband's father six years ago, she was probably right not to."

Sirius, who'd had the dubious privilege to be eating breakfast with his family when the newspapers announcing Jude Avery's murder "for having a pureblood name despite not being one" had been delivered in July 1973, didn't ask why exactly it would have been a bad idea for Leah Malkin to write "Avery" on the front of her clothing shop.

On the other hand, he had a concern neither of his grandparents were likely to take into account – they were both purebloods from old families, and even half-bloods tended to get out of touch on the matter as they got older.

"Try and go to Exeter's for muggle-passing clothes. They'll need some if I am to take them anywhere with me in the next month."

His grandfather made a face but didn't say anything. His grandmother looked at him, curious.

"Exeter's?"

"Yes, it opened seven months ago, I think? Right next to the Leaky Cauldron, that vacated storefront no one wanted to take over after Jacob Berrycloth stopped working to take care of Mrs Berrycloth. The new owner is muggleborn, so she knows what she's doing, and she's also... sophisticated, so her selection is all high-end."

Melania's eyebrows rose high.

"Isn't she afraid, holding a storefront in Diagon Alley despite being muggleborn?"

While muggleborns still held stores in mixed villages, Diagon Alley had been losing muggleborn shopkeepers in the last years. Having a shop in the all-wizarding alley was seen as a show of status, in a way, and some people had taken to harassing – when it wasn't Death Eaters outright attacking the shops or owners – those they considered unworthy of owning a storefront there.

Sirius snorted – of course Exeter was afraid, but that didn't mean much to someone like her.

"Diana is rich, richer than a lot of our own rich families. Her grandfather is a muggle duke, I think, and I hear he's at the head of a financial empire. She's hired a lot of security, it would be ridiculous if things weren't what they are."

"Well, in that case. I must admit to being curious. I suppose we'll get one or two outfits there too."

Muggle-passing clothes were important enough, especially for a bunch of kids. While quality perception charms woven into a robe could convince most muggles not to notice the odd wear of wizards passing by, they were less efficient the more they had to hide – three or four people wearing wizarding attire at the same place, and even high-quality charms started to fail in their purpose.

A group of excitable children all dressed weirdly? That would get noticed. So, muggle-passing clothes, because Arcturus would never let his great-grandchildren wear actual muggle clothes. Those don't even have soot-repelling charms, Sirius, you should know better! – and things like that.

"Wonderful. Exeter will be deli..."

"Are you talking about Diana?"

It was Alastor – Rowle's older son, black hair, green eyes – who'd spoken up from further up the table. The teenager was leaning over his empty plate of cake, a curious look on his face – his sisters and brother blinked from around him, surprised but interested by the sudden turn their discussion had just taken.

Sirius took a second before saying something back.

"You four know Diana Exeter?"

Maybe he – their father, rather – had taken them to her shop, but it didn't explain the use of the woman's first name.

At least, that meant she was still alive by the time Alastor and his siblings were born. Sometimes Sirius wondered which of the muggleborns he knew would still be alive by next year.

Alastor's younger sister – Elizabeth, the one who'd come to get Juliet – gave a small smile.

"She's Cleo's mother. I mean, our cousin's wife is... will be her daughter?"

Sirius drew a blank for a moment – he knew what was implied here, how could he not? – and Melania was the one to ask:

"Regulus will have a son? Or is it a cousin on your mother's side?"

Lamia – older, barely two years behind Sirius, looking like him but as a girl – scowled.

"Ugh, of course Alshain is Uncle Regulus' son, I don't want to think about Thorfinn having kids."

Alastor made a face.

"Luckily Azkaban prevented him from having children, and when he got out..."

The siblings shared a look and didn't say more.

Sirius noted – he couldn't help making hypotheses, noticing the small mentions of the children's various futures, and wondering – the fact that apparently Thorfinn Rowle had gone to Azkaban in their history. Why, he didn't know. Rowle had been two years above him at Hogwarts, and Sirius hadn't seen him hang out with the Death Eaters wannabes that often, but he had also fallen right into the "assholes" and "blood snobs" pages of the small notebook Sirius had been using to keep track of the other students and of who he wanted to approach for which reasons.

Maybe Rowle the brother would become – had already become? – a Death Eater.

Or maybe he'd simply killed someone because he was a sadistic asshole almost equal to Bellatrix.

Either way, as a trainee Auror it fell right into the range of things Sirius ought to keep in mind.

Back to Regulus' mini-me – which apparently wasn't a problem for the kids, but Sirius remained a bit wary, considering the extracurriculars he suspected his younger brother of – who might never even get born because this wasn't the same story as the children's anymore.

"Your uncle Regulus has a child."

Alright, maybe he was a bit shaken by the not-news – it wasn't real here and now, but still.

A disturbing smirk, that she'd inherited right from Sirius, curled upon Lamia's face. She knew exactly what she was doing, and she thought it hilarious.

"Grandchildren, too. Alphard was born the year I entered Hogwarts, and after that it was Cepheus and Hydra."

Sirius let out a suspicious sound that he would himself be hard-pressed to qualify in any way, except for how it had something to do with his soul dying a little bit.

Alastor rolled his eyes at his older sister and went back on topic.

"Anyway. Diana, yes, we know her well enough. She's... extended family. And Evan Rosier's widow, so everyone has heard of her."

This time it was Arcturus who faltered – his dessert spoon tinted against his plate as he slipped.

"I thought you said she was muggleborn."

He was looking at Sirius with suspicion, as if his grandson would lie about something like that – and Sirius understood why, even if he wouldn't.

Sirius was just as baffled, really – but he hadn't had the time to react, Arcturus had asked first.

Evan Rosier, as mentioned before, had opinions – and most likely acted on them with a white mask and a dark robe.

The only answer Sirius could give his grandfather was "she is" and leave it at that.

Yet another thing he'd need to look into.

Maybe he'd hand it over to the Order, to investigate if all this was true here too, and not just in the timeline Eleanor Rowle's children came from. Or maybe that would be his role, now, to investigate rather than storm the castle, because he apparently had access to a lot of what-if scenari which could prove useful one way or another.

A thought for later, when he'd talk with Dumbledore about everything that had happened.

For now, Sirius cleared his throat, both to close the subject and to get everyone's attention.

"Well. I think we'll stop there today, on this particular subject. Now, back to the matter of tomorrow's outing. We'll be going clothes-shopping, that much we already said, but there are a few other things too. To begin with... Which ones of you don't have a wand yet?"

All the kids started looking at their neighbours, and the three youngest – bar Juliet, of course – raised their hands. Orion, Shivansh and Aldebaran, obviously. They weren't at Hogwarts yet and you didn't buy and give a wand months in advance unless you wanted your kids to try spells they have no idea how to perform whenever you were busy with something else.

The girl of the triplets – Hyades – was elbowing the Sirius-clone of her two brothers, who eventually raised his hand too, gathering everyone's attention and obviously hating it.

"...I didn't have my wand on me when..."

"Ah. In that case, you'll go with them too. Who do you think...?"

Sirius turned towards his grandparents, who seemed to get what he meant before he could even finish his question.

Melania tutted.

"Honestly, Sirius. You are accompanying them to Ollivanders. If there is one thing amongst what we'll be buying tomorrow that concerns you, it's acquiring a wand for your children."

"Alright, alright... I just thought they might have wanted to go first thing after Gringotts, and unless you get held up for three quarters of an hour I'll still be at work by that point."

"Then they'll wait. They can afford to, especially if it's only one hour. The Macmillans only get their own wand in the summer after first year, once they've proved they can be responsible with one of the family wands. That didn't kill me, did it?"

Sirius knew better than to argue with that, and apparently so did the children, who only shared a look without commenting.

"Anything else than clothes and wands? Grandfather said school supplies will wait, so that's on the back burner for now, but maybe there's something else?"

Melania added:

"Medication, perhaps? Glasses prescription to check?"

Adhara's kids shared a look – the two younger ones wore glasses, so that had been aimed at them.

Procyon shrugged.

"Not me. I changed them three months ago. Adrienne, perhaps."

"You mean you got into a fight and Mum had to take you to the acelogist before the end of the year because not only did you smash your glasses to pieces, but you also got shrinking solution in your eyes and Madam Longbottom wanted to make sure there were no side-effects. And yes, I had an appointment scheduled soon, but I guess that's not possible anymore..."

Sirius decided to ignore the obvious sibling feud going on here for now, and instead just nodded at Adrienne, assuring her they'd look for a way to at least get her an appointment at the healing desk.

Once everything had been decided about the outing tomorrow, Arcturus watched as dinner petered out, the children finishing their cake slice, his grandson and wife listening in on the kids' conversations and participating occasionally. The day wasn't finished yet – not for the adults – but the kids seemed ready to go back to their rooms, away from the near-strangers who had just become their only family.

They would be able to talk, then.