Disclaimer:
This fanfiction story is a work of fiction and is not affiliated with, endorsed by, or authorized by J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., or any entities associated with the Harry Potter series. The characters, settings, and events depicted in this story are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. All rights to the original Harry Potter books and related materials belong to their respective owners.
A/N:
Hi, It's me. Sameera again also known by the pen name Enchanted Quill, I am starting a new story in which Arcturus and Cassiopeia Black will restart the Black family after the war. Please if you will try to comment and give me a few reviews if possible. I will try to update once a week. Hope everyone will have a great day.
Chapter 1
The Last Glimmer of House Black
In the cold, ancestral halls of 12 Grimmauld Place, two of the remaining Black family members met under the dim, flickering candlelight, their breath forming smoky puffs in the damp, chill air. Arcturus Black, aged Lord of House Black, his once jet-black hair now pure silver. His cousin, Cassiopeia, despite being younger, had her own share of lines creasing her face, a testament to the tough life the Blacks had led. "It's a bitter end, isn't it, Arcturus?" Cassiopeia started, her gaze wandering over the worn tapestries that depicted their family tree. "Who would've thought the great House of Black would fall into such disarray? Disowned members, fugitives, and not a suitable heir in sight."
Arcturus grunted in agreement, his eyes trailing over the various scorched names. "It's a shame, a real shame. Our ancestors, they must be rolling in their graves. All their efforts, their sacrifices, all for naught."
Cassiopeia sighed, her gaze falling onto Sirius's name. "Sirius was our last hope, but the boy chose to align with those...Muggles and Muggle-lovers and betrayed them. Regulus is gone. Andromeda is disowned, burnt out for her betrayal, she has a kid but our family is patriarchal, Bella is in Azkaban, and Narcissa... well, she married a Malfoy. Their blood may be pure, but their loyalty has always been questionable."
Arcturus gave a stiff nod. "We can't count on the Malfoys, no matter how pure their lineage. It has to be a true Black. We must preserve our name, our legacy."
A moment of silence fell over them as the weight of their predicament sank in. Their family, once proud and strong, was facing extinction. Arcturus broke the silence first, "There is only one option left, Cassiopeia. We have to find a new heir and raise them to understand our legacy and traditions. To value what it truly means to be a Black."
Cassiopeia looked at him with curiosity. "But where do we find such a child, Arcturus? The pureblood families are dwindling, many mixing with Muggle blood."
"I am aware," Arcturus replied, looking into the distance, "but we must try, for the sake of our ancestors. If not from our world, then maybe from the Muggles. We must find a child with magical abilities, untouched by the contamination of Muggle society. Then we will mold them, train them in the ways of the Black family."
Cassiopeia looked doubtful but nodded slowly. "It is a desperate plan, cousin, but it might be our only hope. For the sake of our ancestors, and the great House of Black, we must try."
With a shared understanding, they set about their task, the gravity of their mission reinvigorating their tired bodies. The echoes of their determined voices resonated in the empty halls, a testament to the Black's unwavering resolve. They had discussed many possibilities and potential solutions, but none felt quite right, all seemed too desperate, too outlandish. Despair was slowly seeping in as they scanned the family tapestry, each blackened name a sharp reminder of their dwindling legacy. Suddenly, Cassiopeia's eyes lingered over a relatively untouched corner, where a modest branch of the family tree lay.
"Dorea Black... married to Charlus Potter," she murmured, squinting at the tiny golden thread that linked the Black family to the Potters.
Arcturus, stirred by the mention of his late sister's name, made his way to stand next to Cassiopeia. The name 'Potter' elicited a grimace but the fact was undeniable. Dorea was a Black, and her lineage was untarnished.
Her line of descendants led to James Potter, whose name was not burned off but marked as deceased. Next to his name was Lily Potter, whose name had a faint note of being Muggle-born but was also marked as deceased. The line continued from them to a single name - Harry Potter, the boy who lived.
"The boy who lived," Cassiopeia muttered, her voice barely a whisper. "The son of James and Lily Potter, grandson of Dorea Black. He is the last surviving male descendant of the Black family. The Potters may have strayed from our beliefs, but their bloodline is valid. He's the rightful heir."
Arcturus was silent for a long while, gazing at the name with a deep frown etched into his features. Finally, he nodded, "We never considered him because of his Muggle mother, but these are desperate times, and the boy is, after all, Dorea's grandson. He has the Black blood flowing through his veins."
"Harry Potter, the boy who lived and defeated You-Know-Who as a mere infant. He could be the savior we need, not just of the Wizarding World but of the House of Black as well," Cassiopeia said, an odd mix of hope and trepidation in her voice.
Arcturus nodded, determination shining in his old eyes. "We have to ensure he understands his responsibilities, understands what it means to be a Black. For the sake of our family, for the sake of Dorea, we must guide him."
With a newfound sense of purpose, Arcturus and Cassiopeia began their search for young Harry Potter. They enlisted the help of Kreacher, the Black family house-elf, who was as loyal and devoted to the Black family as any elf could be. He wore his House Black pillow case with a sense of pride and served his masters with unyielding loyalty.
Kreacher, despite his age and the mistreatment he had endured at the hands of Orion Black, was eager to assist. "Kreacher will find the young master," he promised, his bulbous eyes gleaming with determination.
For days, Kreacher tried to trace Harry Potter's whereabouts in the wizarding world. But the boy was nowhere to be found. It was as if he had vanished into thin air. Frustrated, Arcturus and Cassiopeia began their own investigation. Using connections and channels that only members of the old, influential Black family could access, they began to unravel a disturbing truth.
"It's like he disappeared, Arcturus," Cassiopeia lamented one night, after a fruitless day of searching. "Do you think something happened to him?"
Arcturus shook his head. "I refuse to believe so. There must be something we're missing."
Determined to unravel the mystery, they dug deeper, sifting through old records and forgotten accounts. It was Kreacher who stumbled upon a crucial piece of information.
"Masters," Kreacher began, his voice trembling with excitement, "Kreacher found something in old Ministry records, in the wills and inheritance department."
"Dumbledore sealed the Potters' will?" Arcturus said, looking at the document Cassiopeia had taken from Kreacher, his voice filled with disbelief and rising anger. "And he's hidden the boy?"
Cassiopeia nodded grimly, "It seems so. Harry should've been given to his godfather, Sirius, or any of his magical relatives. But Dumbledore had taken him."
"Sirius was in Azkaban by then for betraying the Potter's," Arcturus grumbled. "But we were here. He should've contacted us. We are the boy's family, no matter our differences with the Potters."
Cassiopeia sighed deeply, the weight of their situation pressing heavily on her. "Dumbledore has always played by his own rules. But now, we must play ours. We have to find Harry and bring him back to the world where he belongs."
Arcturus nodded firmly, his grip tightening around the cane. "We will. Dumbledore can't hide him forever."
"But why would he hide him?" Cassiopeia asked.
"Control," Arcturus replied bluntly. "The boy is famous, powerful. Dumbledore has always been a manipulator. This is just another one of his games." The realization hit them hard.
Their task had just become monumentally more difficult. They would now not only have to find Harry but also wrestle him away from one of the most powerful wizards of their time. But the Blacks were not to be underestimated and they are the most powerful family and with their family legacy on the line, they had no choice but to fight.
It took Kreacher another week of relentless search before he returned to Grimmauld Place with the news. His ragged breaths echoed in the silent house as he fell to his knees before Arcturus and Cassiopeia.
"Kreacher has found the young master," the house elf declared, panting heavily. His voice held a note of excitement that Arcturus and Cassiopeia had not heard in a long time. Their hearts pounded in anticipation as they waited for Kreacher to reveal what he'd found.
"He's hidden among Muggles," Kreacher continued, "in a place called Privet Drive. Dumbledore has placed powerful enchantments around the area to hide him from the Wizarding world."
Arcturus and Cassiopeia shared a startled glance. "Among Muggles? Dumbledore left our heir in a Muggle house?" Arcturus growled, a sudden surge of anger flashing in his eyes.
Cassiopeia nodded grimly. "It seems we underestimated the lengths Dumbledore would go to isolate Harry from his magical heritage."
"He lives like a servant, not a master," Kreacher added, a hint of indignation in his voice. "Kreacher saw the boy cooking and cleaning, they are also hitting him. It is not a fitting life for a Black."
Arcturus's fist clenched around his cane. "We will rectify this. We will bring him home and teach him his rightful place."
Cassiopeia nodded in agreement, her expression hardening. "Dumbledore has taken enough from our family. We will not allow this to continue."
Armed with their knowledge of Harry's location and dressed in Muggle attire, Arcturus and Cassiopeia traveled to the quaint town of Little Whinging in Surrey. Their target: number four, Privet Drive, the Dursleys' home. Their cover story was simple: they were investors in Grunnings, Vernon Dursley's drill manufacturing company. They have already sent a message to Vernon stating they'll be visiting his home.
Petunia Dursley was visibly flustered upon answering the door to the distinguished pair. " Oh, Mr. and Mrs. Robinson, do come in," she said, quickly wiping her sweaty palms on her apron. She'd been expecting investors, but not of such imposing stature.
The interior of the house was painfully ordinary, painfully Muggle. But there was no sign of Harry. As Petunia led them into the sitting room, Arcturus subtly cast a detection spell. His eyes narrowed when he located the faint trace of magic, coming from a small cupboard under the stairs.
"Cup of tea?" Petunia asked, her smile forced and her hands shaky.
Cassiopeia nodded, her gaze drifting to the cupboard. "That would be lovely, thank you."
As Petunia scuttled away to prepare the tea, Vernon Dursley arrived, a broad smile plastered on his face. "Mr. and Mrs. Robinson, a pleasure to meet you. I trust Petunia has been taking good care of you. I would have loved to have this meeting in a restaurant."
Vernon's booming voice and forced amiability couldn't hide the discomfort in his eyes. Cassiopeia offered a polite smile, "She's been very hospitable, Mr. Dursley. It's not a problem, After all, Home is where the heart is."
Throughout their visit, there was no mention of Harry, no appearance from him. Cassiopeia's gaze drifted back to the cupboard under the stairs. She shared a knowing glance with Arcturus. There was a strong possibility that Harry was closer to them.
So, As the conversation continued, Cassiopeia focused her attention on the Dursleys. Her gaze turned subtly steely, her expression taking on an intense concentration unbeknownst to her hosts. Drawing on her strong magical lineage, she quietly invoked the complex art of Legilimency, skillfully navigating through the surface thoughts of Petunia and Vernon Dursley.
The memories she found were disturbing and horrifying, her blood boiled as she viewed the mistreatment of Harry through the Dursleys' recollections. Cassiopeia saw a thin, undernourished boy with glasses and messy hair. Harry, doing house chores, cooking, cleaning, serving the Dursleys. And then, the worst part, his cousin using him as a punching bag, and him being shoved into a tiny cupboard, a place that was clearly his room.
"He is being treated worse than a house-elf," she thought, her heart clenched with anger and sympathy for the boy.
Once Petunia returned with a tray of tea, Cassiopeia withdrew from her mind, masking her emotions with a polite smile. She shared a quick, knowing glance with Arcturus.
Before they left, Cassiopeia subtly placed a charm on the Dursleys, a simple memory modification spell, ensuring they wouldn't remember her intrusion into their minds. As she and Arcturus stepped out of the Dursley's house, Cassiopeia recounted what she'd discovered.
"The boy's living conditions are abhorrent," she said, her voice trembling with outrage. "They have him living in a cupboard under the stairs, Arcturus. They're treating him like a servant, even worse."
Arcturus's jaw clenched, his knuckles turning white around his cane. "We need to get him out of there, Cassiopeia. We need to bring him home."
They knew then their mission had just taken on an even greater urgency. They wouldn't just be bringing Harry into his rightful place as a Black. They'd be rescuing him this night from a life of neglect and cruelty.
Night had fallen on Privet Drive when Cassiopeia returned, this time alone. Cloaked in the shadows and armed with the knowledge of Harry's whereabouts, she cast a Disillusionment Charm on herself and silently approached the Dursleys' home.
Cassiopeia navigated her way through the eerily quiet house towards the cupboard under the stairs. The door creaked open to reveal a small boy, huddled on a thin mattress. Harry was just as she had seen in the Dursleys' memories, thin and smaller than he should be, sleeping fitfully.
Heart clenched, Cassiopeia whispered a soft sleep spell to ensure he wouldn't wake during the transition. She then gently lifted him, cradling him in her arms before heading back upstairs.
Approaching the Dursleys' room, she took a deep breath and opened the door. The snoring figures of Petunia and Vernon, along with the boy, Dudley, were sprawled in their beds, oblivious to the magic swirling around them.
Determined to protect Harry Potter from their mistreatment, she knew that altering the Dursleys' memories was important. With a firm grip on her wand and a focused mind, Cassiopeia cast a powerful spell to modify their recollections. As the incantation flowed from her lips, a subtle, silvery glow enveloped the Dursleys' home. The charm's energy seeped through the windows, doors, and even the cracks in the walls, penetrating the very essence of the house. The charm targeted the emotions and associations tied to Harry's presence in their lives. It left their disdain, their neglect, their cruelty, and a vague sense of confusion. The Dursleys would remember their nephew being taken away, but the specifics would remain hazy as if veiled by a foggy haze of uncertainty.
Cassiopeia's spell was carefully designed to remove specific memories while leaving the rest of their experiences intact. With a wave of her wand, she honed in on the Dursleys' recollections of Harry, ensuring that they would remember him being taken away by a group of people.
Once sure the charm had taken effect, Cassiopeia retreated from the room, her resolve unyielding. She knew the severity of what she had done, but it was necessary. Harry's safety, his very life, depended on it.
Disappearing into the night, she carried Harry away from Privet Drive, away from the life he had known, to 12 Grimmauld Place. The ancestral home of the Black family stood waiting, a beacon in the darkness. Cassiopeia only hoped that it would become a sanctuary for Harry, a place where he could finally be safe, loved, and understood as the heir of House Black.
As she stepped over the threshold, she glanced down at the sleeping boy in her arms. "Welcome home, Harry," she murmured softly, crossing into the house and sealing the door behind them. Little did they know, their journey was only just beginning.
Inside the ancient and gloomy halls of Grimmauld Place, Arcturus and Cassiopeia sat in the drawing room, Harry sleeping peacefully in a conjured bed nearby. The room, which was usually filled with tension and silence, was now filled with a newfound sense of purpose and anticipation.
Cassiopeia looked at her cousin, her eyes serious. "The boy's safe now, but we must tread carefully. If Dumbledore discovers our actions, he will not stand by idly."
Arcturus nodded his gaze firmly on the flickering fireplace. "I agree. We have stepped into a territory fraught with political and magical challenges. We must prepare for Dumbledore's potential retaliation, and the Ministry's involvement, if they discover Harry's sudden disappearance. Also, Let's make sure that we won't frighten the child with the overload of magic, we will wait till we see that he is already doing accidental magic." He said grimly.
Cassiopeia sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Indeed, but we also have an even more immediate concern. We must nurture Harry, and help him heal. The trauma he has suffered at the hands of the Dursleys... it won't be easy to overcome."
"Absolutely," Arcturus replied, "We must ensure he feels loved and safe here. We need to reintroduce him to the magical world, to his family's history, and eventually, to his responsibilities as the heir of House Black if he agrees."
"There's also his magical education. He must be prepared before he enters Hogwarts, especially if we want him to navigate the wizarding world independently," Cassiopeia added.
"Yes, he'll be provided with private tutoring by us. He must be able to defend himself, and we can't trust that Hogwarts under Dumbledore will adequately prepare him," Arcturus said, determination glinting in his eyes.
Together, they plotted a course for Harry's future, a path that would hopefully guide him from the trauma of his past towards a brighter, stronger future. The challenges ahead were daunting, but the resolve of Arcturus and Cassiopeia was unwavering.
They looked towards the bed where Harry slept peacefully, oblivious to the grand plans being made for his future. For the first time in his life, Harry was home. In the silent house, under the watchful eyes of his family's portraits, Harry Potter began his journey as the heir of House Black.
The first rays of morning sunlight peeked through the heavy curtains of Grimmauld Place as Harry began to stir from his sleep. His eyes blinked open, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings with a wary curiosity. A plush mattress, and a warm blanket, the room filled with strange artifacts — it was a far cry from the small cupboard under the stairs.
But along with the unfamiliarity came fear. Harry had learned at a young age that unfamiliar meant danger. As he got up and started wandering around the room, his movements were cautious and silent, the way he'd learned to move to avoid upsetting the Dursleys. Kreacher informed The Blacks that the young master is awake.
When Cassiopeia entered the room with a warm smile and a cheerful, "Good morning, Harry," the boy flinched and took a step back, his eyes wide with fear.
Cassiopeia's heart ached at the sight, but she kept her voice soft and soothing. "It's alright, Harry. You're safe here. I won't hurt you."
Arcturus, who had been standing in the doorway, stepped forward. "We're family, Harry. I'm your great-uncle, Arcturus, and this is your Aunt, Cassiopeia."
Harry watched them warily, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. "Family?" he whispered, the concept almost foreign to him.
"Yes, Harry," Cassiopeia confirmed gently, "And this is your home now."
Slowly, they coaxed him into joining them for breakfast and showed him around the house. There was a lot to process, a lot to understand. Arcturus and Cassiopeia were patient, treating him with a kindness he had never known before. Harry was hesitant and fearful, but beneath the apprehension was a glimmer of hope.
Cassiopeia has been surprised when Harry said that he can read so she took him to the library where under her watchful eye, they began reading a children's book together when Harry, after a long silence, turned to Cassiopeia with a timid look on his face. He seemed to gather his courage before finally speaking, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Aunt Cassiopeia, do you... do you have any ointment? For my... my bruises? They are hurting me a lot." He lifted the hem of his shirt slightly, revealing the dark purple and blue marks and scars that marred his small body.
Cassiopeia's heart clenched painfully at the sight. The realization of the physical harm Harry had endured at the hands of his relatives was another punch in the gut, another reason why their rescue had been essential.
"Oh, Harry," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. She hurried to assure him, "Of course, dear. We'll take care of that right away."
Getting up from her seat, she quickly led Harry to the Black family's potion stores. Inside the vast, dusty room, rows upon rows of potions were stored, remedies for a myriad of ailments, handed down through the Black family line. But for Harry, she selected a simple murtlap essence. Known for its healing properties, it was perfect for treating minor injuries and burns.
"Here," she said softly, offering the small jar to Harry, "this paste will help with the pain and heal the bruises. Can I apply the paste or will you apply it yourself?" She asked
Harry looked at the jar in her hands, then up at her face, his green eyes wide. "Thank you, Aunt Cassiopeia, I will apply it myself," he said, his voice barely audible.
At that moment, Cassiopeia made a silent vow. She would do everything in her power to ensure Harry never had to ask for something like this again. She would protect him, heal him, and teach him to defend himself. This, she swore, would be the last time Harry bore the physical marks of his past.
Later that evening, Arcturus found Harry sitting by the window, watching the sunset. The boy looked so small and vulnerable, and Arcturus couldn't help but feel a surge of protective affection. He moved closer and took a seat next to him.
"Harry," he started, his voice soft and gentle. "I want you to understand something. This is your home now. You're part of the Black family, and you always will be."
Harry turned to look at him, his wide green eyes filled with a silent plea for reassurance. Arcturus smiled kindly, reaching out to gently pat the Child's head.
"And you don't have to call me 'sir' or 'Mr. Black'. You can call me 'grandpa' if you'd like."
The suggestion seemed to take Harry by surprise, but slowly, a small smile spread across his face. It was the first genuine smile they'd seen from him since his arrival, and it warmed Arcturus' heart.
"And as for the Dursleys..." Arcturus continued, his voice taking on a more stern tone, "You will never have to go back there. I promise you, Harry. You're safe now."
Harry nodded, looking a little overwhelmed but also relieved. "Thank you, Grandpa," he murmured, the title sounding foreign yet surprisingly right.
Arcturus smiled, wrapping an arm around Harry's shoulders. "You're welcome, my boy."
They sat together in silence, watching as the sun dipped below the horizon and the stars began to twinkle into existence. It was a simple moment, but for Harry, it was a glimpse of a life he had never thought possible. A life where he wasn't just tolerated but loved. A life where he was considered family. And for Arcturus and Cassiopeia, it was the first of many steps towards healing their young heir and guiding him into a future worthy of the Black name.
One cool morning, as Harry, Arcturus, and Cassiopeia were sitting at breakfast, a piece of toast suddenly floated from the plate and directly to Harry's hand. It was a simple act of magic, subconscious and innocent, but Harry froze in his seat, his face paling considerably.
Arcturus and Cassiopeia exchanged a quick glance, they are very happy about Harry's first accidental magic in front of them but their previous suspicions were now confirmed. "Harry, are you alright?" Cassiopeia asked gently, concern evident in her voice.
Harry dropped the toast, looking guilty. His voice trembled as he confessed, "The Dursleys... they used to hit me whenever something... strange happened. They said it was... freakish."
The adults shared a glance, their hearts sinking at his words. The Dursleys had abused him for exhibiting magic, a core part of his identity.
"Harry," Arcturus began, his voice filled with compassion, "what happened at the Dursleys... it wasn't right. What you did just now, the toast... that's magic. And magic is a part of who you are."
Harry looked between them, confusion mingling with fear in his eyes. "Magic?" he echoed. "Like... like in fairy tales?"
Cassiopeia nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. "Yes, dear. But it's not just in fairy tales. It's real. You're a wizard, Harry. We are all wizards here. And being able to do magic... it's not freakish. It's wonderful."
Harry looked at them, uncertainty etched in his features. "But the Dursleys... they said..."
"The Dursleys were wrong, Harry," Arcturus said firmly. "They didn't understand, and they feared what they didn't understand. But we do. You're not a freak, Harry. You're special. And we're going to help you learn how to use your magic."
The idea seemed to stun Harry into silence, but as the news sunk in, his wide eyes filled with wonder and a spark of excitement. He was a wizard. He could do magic. And for the first time in his life, Harry felt like he truly belonged.
After breakfast, Arcturus and Cassiopeia took Harry to the drawing room. It was a quiet, comforting place filled with generations of Black family history. They took seats around the old wooden table, its surface still new even after years of use.
"Harry," began Cassiopeia, "Magic is a fundamental part of our world. It's something you were born with and it is not something to be afraid of. Instead, it should be nurtured and respected."
They spent the morning explaining the basics of magic to Harry, about witches and wizards, magical creatures and spells, about Hogwarts, the school of witchcraft and wizardry. Harry listened, his green eyes wide with wonder and curiosity. He asked questions, and for the first time, they were answered.
After some time, Arcturus looked at Cassiopeia, giving her a nod. It was time for Harry to meet another wizars world species. "Harry, there's someone we would like you to meet."
With a snap of his fingers, a little creature with large bat-like ears and bulging eyes appeared. Dressed in a House Black pillow case, he bowed low, "Kreacher is here, Master Arcturus."
Harry's eyes widened at the sight, but he didn't flinch away. Instead, he tilted his head curiously. "Who... who's that?"
"This is Kreacher," Arcturus introduced. "He's a house-elf. House elves are a part of many magical families. They assist with the upkeep of the house and help take care of its inhabitants."
Harry looked at Kreacher, who had straightened up and was now observing Harry with an intense gaze. After a moment, Kreacher bowed again, this time towards Harry. "Kreacher is pleased to meet young Master Harry."
Harry seemed surprised but returned the bow. "Nice to meet you too, Kreacher."
Kreacher's eyes gleamed with something akin to affection. From that day onwards, he took it upon himself to make sure Harry was well taken care of, always ensuring the young boy had everything he needed. A bond formed between them, one that was unlikely but heartwarming. Harry had not just found a family in Arcturus and Cassiopeia, but in Kreacher as well.
A few days later, Cassiopeia found Harry in his room, trying to button up a shirt that was far too large for him. She realized, with a pang of sadness, that Harry was still wearing Dudley's old clothes.
She immediately went to Arcturus, who was in his study, deep in thought. "Arcturus," she began, "Harry doesn't have any clothes of his own."
Arcturus looked up from his work, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. "What do you mean? Didn't you bring any with him?"
"No," Cassiopeia sighed, "He only has the oversized clothes that belonged to Dudley. We need to rectify this."
Agreement dawned in Arcturus' eyes, and he nodded. "You're right, Cassiopeia. The boy deserves to have clothes that fit him properly."
And so, the next day, Cassiopeia and Harry ventured into the muggle world for a shopping trip. Using a glamour charm to blend in, they visited various shops, picking out clothes that would be comfortable and suitable for Harry.
Harry was overwhelmed at first, having never had the luxury of choosing his own clothes before. But with Cassiopeia's gentle guidance, he soon found himself enjoying the experience.
They bought trousers and shirts, jumpers and socks, shoes that fit him perfectly, and warm coats for the coming winter. Harry was particularly fond of a small lilly shaped pendant that he found in a jewelry shop. Cassiopeia bought it for him, noticing the spark of happiness in his eyes.
That night, as Harry went to bed in his new pajamas, he felt a sense of comfort and belonging that was still new to him. He touched the pendant around his neck, his mind replaying the events of the day. With every passing day, the horrors of the Dursleys were fading away, replaced by the kindness and warmth of his newfound family. Harry was finally home, and for the first time in his life, he felt truly safe and loved.
A week later, Arcturus and Cassiopeia decided it was time to discuss the future with Harry. They knew it was a lot for a six-year-old to grasp, but they also knew Harry was not an ordinary six-year-old.
They sat down with him in the drawing room, a fire crackling warmly in the hearth. Harry looked at them, his eyes curious and a bit apprehensive.
"Harry," Arcturus began, his voice calm and kind, "We've been talking, and we think it's time you knew more about our family's... situation."
He went on to explain the Black family's status in the wizarding world, about the lineage, and the importance of an heir to carry on the family name.
"We want you to know, Harry, that we don't expect anything from you. You're not a pawn to be used for the family's benefit," Cassiopeia said, her voice firm. "But we also want to give you the choice. If you wish, you could be the heir to the Black family. You could carry on the family name."
Harry looked thoughtful. "What does being an heir mean?" he asked.
"It means," Arcturus explained, "that one day, you would inherit the Black family's wealth, our home, and the responsibilities that come with it. It means that you would represent the Black family in the wizarding world."
Harry thought for a moment before asking, "Would I still be able to do what I want? Would I still be Harry?"
"Of course, my boy," Arcturus assured him. "You'll always be Harry. We just want to give you the opportunity to also be a part of something bigger."
Harry seemed to consider their words, his young mind processing the information. Finally, he looked up at them, his green eyes determined.
"Yes, I want to be the heir," he said, "but I also want to be your Harry. Can I be both?"
"Absolutely, Harry," Cassiopeia reassured him with a warm smile, "You can certainly be both."
At that moment, a new chapter in the Black family's history was started, with Harry Potter, the boy who lived, at its heart.
To be continued...
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