Chapter 15: Perfectly normal teenagers
The oldest teen of the magically-acquired-Sons-and-Daughters-of-the-House-of-Black gave a small push to her younger brother, eyes fixed on the adults.
"Come on, Alastor, up and to your bedroom with Baran. You too, Beth, I'll tell you all about it when I get back, but for now..."
Aldebaran, her youngest brother, was frowning – and not making his way out of the grand dining room and towards the stairs at all.
"Why can't we come with you?"
Lamia snorted.
"Because you're eleven."
And twelve, and fourteen, but the point was, her siblings were children – Lamia, at least, could argue that she was legally an adult.
"But..."
Alastor rolled his eyes and took over Baran-minding, guiding him towards the exit. Lamia overheard him explain how the adults wanted to be alone to talk about things they didn't particularly care about right now, and if they were allowed to attend, then everyone else should be there too, and then they would have done that at dinner already.
Lamia, personally, was going to get herself involved – because she was old enough to care and understand, and because Dad and Mum would expect her to take care of her siblings now that they weren't...
Well.
Anyway. She was the oldest. Of her siblings, of all the children here.
The adults – Dad-who-wasn't-Dad and his grandparents – were watching them all leave in little groups, back to the bedrooms they'd claimed only a few hours before.
Lamia made her way over there, going against the general movement. Her eyes caught Marianne's – who nodded at her. Amongst the older kids... Marianne was sixteen. Dana, the girl who told Lamia and her siblings about what was happening – Stefania's older sister, the one who was a Slytherin and might present a united front with Adrienne and Elizabeth at school – was also possibly sixteen, and there was Harfang, too.
Dana was asking something to the house elf – was it Sterhn? The old elf had died years ago, in Lamia's time, and she didn't quite remember what he looked like... – probably concerned about her baby sister. Marianne was letting her handle this. Harfang looked busy with his younger brother.
Anyway, Da... Sirius and Arcturus and Melania were more likely to let the one adult teen – uh, weird thought – participate in their upcoming discussion if she wasn't trying to shoehorn the other three oldest kids with her.
Sirius might have let them get away with it, but Arcturus Black didn't sound like he'd appreciate any of it – especially not waiting for the kids to go to their rooms only to find out that no, several of them were still here. Lamia couldn't be sure, of course – her great-grandfather had died two years before her father escaped from Azkaban, and his wife had followed a handful of years later.
Dad had seen her once – she'd gone to live with her sister Penelope – while on the run, and Lamia only knew that because he'd mentioned it to Alfred Macmillan at the latest Council of Houses.
...This was all so...
The girl shook her head, and planted herself right before the great-grandfather she'd never met.
Arcturus Black raised an eyebrow at her. Lamia didn't let herself be intimidated.
"You're going to talk about us. About what to do."
Sirius-not-Dad looked a bit amused, his arms crossed, and Melania had a small smile on her lips.
"Of course we will. You did come rather unexpected."
Arcturus was following the children's exit from the corner of his eye, but none – other than Lamia, barely younger than Sirius and Regulus, with her scared lip and the intensity of a firstborn Black – were lingering.
He could afford to focus on this one, then.
The girl seemed a bit more open than Sirius himself, even if she looked so much like him. Close enough, though – in the ways Bellatrix and Sirius were similar to each other, and yet so different from the rest of the family.
Lamia certainly didn't seem afraid of anything, the way she was standing and staring him down.
"Yes, we did. And I want in on that conversation."
Arcturus heard – more than saw – his grandson almost sputtering – almost, because Sirius had better control than to actually sputter, but he still drew a sharp breath – at that declaration.
The girl was more direct than her father, wasn't she? His words would hold as much confidence – but they'd be quieter, a promise of retribution, a forced hand, rather than outright, open defiance.
"Do you, now?"
The old wizard wasn't, per se, against her presence during their decision-making – but there needed to be a line, a rule, however arbitrary, to follow, or they would all claim to come at some point and nothing would get decided at all. If Lamia could argue for her presence...
A representative for the children wasn't necessarily a bad idea, considering how numerous they were. If the girl wrangled herself such a position, she'd have to keep it afloat, though – Arcturus wasn't putting up with constant changes of who spoke for whom – and that still wouldn't make her word mean as much as his – only, he would listen.
The last children – except for Lamia, of course – left the grand dining room. The adults could still hear them walking up the stairs and along the balustrade on the first floor – the dining room was two-floor high, and not closed from the corridors on the first floor by anything else than an indoor balcony – but they were effectively alone.
The girl gave Arcturus a measured look – like she'd thought it out and her next argument would suffice no matter what.
"Unlike any of the others, I am of age."
Arcturus snorted a bit at that.
It was, all in all, a convincing and reasonable argument – and more importantly, as she'd pointed out, it applied only to her and not to any of the other teenagers the House of Black had somehow acquired in the last twelve hours. Just what he had been looking for.
He turned around, heading for the door in the right corner of the dining room.
"Come along, then. We'll be more at ease in the study."
Where curious children wouldn't be able to listen in on them and then interrupt simply by leaning against a balustrade of dark wood.
Melania gave Sirius and the girl a little smile as they moved to follow her husband. This was going to be... entertaining, to say the least. So many new dynamics, relationships fresh and unexpected to navigate until September for Arcturus – he would love it, she knew it.
Figuring out what part of the children's personalities were typical Black, how the Sirius who were their fathers had raised them, what it meant when confronted with her husband's own personality? This was a challenge, one woven in blood and family, with dangers yet untold but not overly lethal – not like the wizarding world these days – and surprises and acknowledgment of kinship. Of course Arcturus wanted to know more.
The old witch, herself, just wanted to get to know them all – the blood of the blood of her blood, children raised by versions of her grandson she would never meet, some who apparently knew her, too – but she couldn't deny how pleased she felt, knowing that her husband would enjoy himself immensely trying to navigate the tangled web of their new reality.
They passed the doors to the ballroom's stage and to the lavatory, ignored the widow bedroom on their left in favor of the open sitting space on their right, and entered the study. The way the girl walked without looking around – her feet doing all the work – spoke of familiarity with the Manor. Given their respective age, Melania couldn't help but wonder if she and her siblings had been raised here, if Sirius had taken residence in the Manor after their death – even if Orion, fortunately, was still alive for now, and would become Lord Black before his son.
Maybe they'd just come regularly to the Manor – but that would mean their father had been getting along with his parents again.
There was so much Melania didn't know about those children – and what she'd learn about some might prove completely false regarding the others, if they really came from different histories.
They sat down in the study's armchairs – Arcturus behind the large desk – and Melania wondered, her eyes on her oldest great-granddaughter.
...was it Lamia? She thought so, at least.
That first name wasn't really common, as it was, and the only one she could think of without looking up wizarding genealogy books right now was one of her husband's ancestors, Lamia Gaunt, who'd married – another, much more ancient – Altair Black in the eighteenth century. The number of "great" before that grandmother – be it as Arcturus or as Sirius' – did not bear thinking about.
Sirius being inspired by that woman to name his oldest child seemed unlikely.
Before they could get started – if she wanted an answer this evening, it was now or never – Melania reached for Lamia's shoulder, next armchair over.
The girl started a bit, then looked at her.
"Any idea where your first name comes from, dear?"
Lamia threw a hesitant glance at Sirius – who, of course, didn't have an answer to that.
"I... I mean, Mom's was in Slytherin, and Dad doesn't... didn't... exactly hide the fact that he could have gone there too."
A quick glance at Melania's grandson, and, yes, he looked a bit uncomfortable with the topic – but Sirius didn't interrupt.
Arcturus had an interested look on his face, and his wife couldn't help but wonder if he was having the same thoughts as her – that Lamia's Sirius might have grown much more honest concerning his personality in the years that separated him from their grandson as he was now.
Lamia wasn't finished, though, and she didn't stop to consider her father-who-wasn't, or his reaction to her words.
"So, 'Lamia', snake woman because of the family, which should have gone to Elizabeth, she's the Slytherin, not me, and my second name is 'Vega', because, well, stars. And..."
There, it was Lamia herself who looked embarrassed. She barely looked Melania in the eyes as she finished her answer:
"...And it sounds a bit like 'Melania', but shorter, without being a nickname, and without the whole 'double Black' thing."
The old witch's eyes widened, and jumped onto her grandson.
"Did you name your oldest daughter after me?"
"How would I know?!"
You could see Sirius' raised hackles – as if he really had any.
Melania laughed lightly, and looked back at the girl sitting next to her.
"It's a beautiful name, then! I hope you like it."
Lamia gave her a small smile and volunteered more:
"There's Alastor, after Dad's old supervisor at the Auror Office, and his second name is Perseus. Elizabeth starts like Mom's name with the 'El', and she got Auriga, and my youngest brother is Aldebaran, star, with Mom's great-great-grandfather's for a second name, 'Layne'. Mar..."
She stopped herself there, looking conflicted – inevitably, it caught Sirius and Arcturus' attention.
"...I... No. We decided we'd tell you about that later. Because... because we have to deal with everything else first and it's not... not important."
Just saying it like that made it sound important enough – but maybe not in the way they were currently looking for. Melania glanced at her husband and grandson – Sirius was squinting, memorizing every little hint of something he might find concerning in the girl's words, and Arcturus had a hand on the flat of the desk, as if forcing himself not to take notes right away.
At least they knew to allow Lamia that evasion.
"Alright, then. Arcturus, you wanted to come to a few decisions regarding the children, didn't you?"
The old man nodded – his eyes still on Lamia – and this time reached for a quill.
"Indeed. We're taking care of your places at Hogwarts for September tomorrow evening, but there are other things we need to discuss. First of all, the official story we'll feed to the Daily Prophet and anyone who asks and isn't family. Then, the family reunion I will have to organize in the next week, thanks to Pollux and his tendency to tattle."
To be fair, a reunion who have been hosted at Black Manor no matter what, considering the circumstances – but without Pollux, it could have waited a bit more. His cousin's presence, Arcturus had come to learn, meant damage control more often than not.
Arcturus' wife tutted, then, and they turned to look at her.
"We'll need to decide on a bonding experience, too. The children having arrived the way they did into our life, in numbers and in loss... It might prove difficult to get everyone to know each other."
Ah. He hadn't quite thought of that, but Melania wasn't wrong. The teenagers had lost everything they knew, except their own siblings – they were likely to remain amongst themselves, and they barely had more than one month before they left for Hogwarts.
A bit more than one month to get to know each of them, to learn whatever the adults needed to know about their realities – to teach them what they needed to know here, in this time, in this world, with these people. With the Death Eaters out there, the high number of blood extremists they might be exposed to at school – especially the children who would be in Slytherin, because Arcturus refused to believe that out of seventeen children old enough to go to school, all of them Sirius', only one of them had been Sorted in the familial House, and because he was sadly aware of the mentality Slytherin House had acquired over the centuries.
Oh, he wouldn't call himself an equalitarian – like Sirius and other purebloods who actively fought or campaigned for muggleborn rights, who believed blood didn't matter at all – or even a middle-grounder, like Melania and Lucretia, who either believed the same without being overly engaged or were uninterested in actively differentiating purebloods, halfbloods and muggleborns – but there was a limit to how much of a purist you could be without becoming a hypocritical piece of...
Ah, anyway.
Arcturus was, if anything, a pragmatist and a realist. He remained a Black before anything else – they only married purebloods – but he acknowledged that some of those were children or grandchildren of halfbloods, descendants of muggleborns and muggles. Those who thought being pure meant they had absolutely no muggle ancestors were delusional, if only because there would come a point with too few purebloods left to continue having children responsibly.
Orion and Walburga's marriage was already bordering on dangerous, and the only reason Arcturus hadn't intervened was that the two hadn't been first cousins, and the other parts of their family trees weren't that close to compensate.
All that to say, in the last decades, Slytherin had been housing more blood extremists than it had in a long time, and the children needed to realize that.
Melania was right, of course – they had to get to know everyone.
"Good point. I don't have any proposition right now, but we should keep that in mind."
On the matter of the media, though:
"Tomorrow morning, I'm going to the Daily Prophet with a story. Better to feed them what we want, rather than to let the few people who saw what happened make tall tales out of it and sell them to the highest bidder. I'm partial to a true, but rather truncated version of the events. Experimental magic and Death Eaters, Sirius got hit and we have a whole new generation of Blacks on our hands. It would be a better idea to keep the implications of your different past and parents to ourselves, or else someone might get ideas on what you all know from possible futures."
Arcturus looked at his great-granddaughter as he said that, anticipating some rebuke.
The girl, indeed, looked troubled.
"...We do know things, though. Death Eaters' identities, attacks on people who are still alive in this time. There... There are things we can do, if we tell the right people."
Sirius winced at her words, and Arcturus shared the sentiment.
It wasn't that she was wrong – but it was more complicated than that. Especially as the children represented various realities: anyone who understood that could argue that what had become true in their world wasn't in all the others, and therefore couldn't be used as proof.
Arcturus' assessment of Lamia's personality seemed to prove itself dangerously accurate – the girl had all of her father's conviction, but only part of his doubts and cynicism... And in this time, it could prove fatal. She was, perhaps, too honest.
Time to redirect Lamia's efforts to do the right thing to a less – conspicuous perhaps wasn't the right word, but at least evident – public source of action.
"If you tell the Ministry everything, they would need to use it as proof to get anything done, and then you and the other children would get targeted. Should you really wish to... actively participate in saving lives, I'd rather you looked to your left instead."
The look on his grandson's face as the girl turned to look at him – she wasn't surprised, uh – was, to say the least, acidic.
Arcturus gave him a thin, dishonest smile.
"Did you think I still had doubts concerning your, ah, 'hobbies'?"
Sirius swallowed the lemon which had seemingly been conjured inside his mouth before answering.
"I thought we were still pretending you know nothing as long as you don't have tangible proof. Isn't that how you do it with Bellatrix? Speaking of which, can I have the name of the shadow you've certainly paid to keep company to mine? I'd like to know when to address them a birthday card."
Arcturus' smile thinned a bit more – the truth was, the courier who was supposed to keep an eye on his grandson had told him there was no point trying to keep a tight leash on an auror trainee with Sirius' level of distrust, and then the wizard had gone to look for another client – and the old wizard looked back at Lamia who was still observing her father-who-wasn't with a calculating look.
At least it seemed that her honesty didn't translate into naivety.
Arcturus wasn't certain of what he'd do with a naive Black.
"Given your ages, we could have tried to pass you off as Sirius and Regulus' magically acquired siblings instead, and it would have helped since no one would assume you to have future knowledge, but many of you children look too different from Orion and Walburga for that to work. Lamia, you would get away with it, Nashira and Antares too, and some of the others might be almost believable, like Elizabeth, since her blonde hair could come from Melania... but no one would accept that excuse for Harfang and Orion or Varsha and Shivansh."
The girl's attention snapped away from her father, and she took an instant to look Arcturus in the eyes before nodding.
"...Alright. I guess we all are perfectly normal teenagers who don't know anything of importance concerning the ongoing war, and the weirdest thing about us is that we got popped into existence when our dad was nineteen."
Her tone was a bit dry.
Arcturus let out a short laugh.
"That would be for the best, yes. Of course, being Blacks, I'm not certain you can be described as 'perfectly normal teenagers', and that's probably a good thing, as it'll explain away... a lot of behaviors, really."
The sound of Sirius' nails on the wooden armrests – a sign of impatience, perhaps, and that wasn't characteristic of him, so Arcturus' earlier admission had likely put him on edge – drew the old wizard's attention, who eyed his grandson warily.
"Something you wish to say, Sirius?"
"Well, on the matter of Blacks..."
"Right, the reunion..."
"What day, and what do I have to do to keep Bellatrix and Mommy Dearest away from the kids?"
Arcturus took a moment to think – noted something on the piece of paper he'd started using as they'd gotten serious, put the quill down, and immediately took it again to add something more.
"Wednesday seems best. And short of enlisting everyone else into forming a human barrier..."
Sirius stood up, looking more irritated than his grandparents had seen him in years.
"Right, I'll start on that tomorrow, then."
And he left the study on those words.
Melania blinked at the double doors, taken aback – then her attention narrowed onto her husband. The moment Lamia excused herself and the two elders found themselves alone, the witch asked with pinched lips:
"What was that about, dear?"