Chapter 24: First order of business

Harfang leaned against the music kiosk's railing, watching over the circular patches of lawn and further wild grass between them and the manor. The children were almost all here – Varsha was getting the triplets and everyone would be accounted for then – and it was time for a conference.

Their father-who-was-not had left for work before any of them had woken up; their great-grandmother Melania sat with a book and a large umbrella in a further circle of lawn, keeping a distant eye on them but too far to listen in; Great-grandfather Arcturus was doing whatever a lord of a noble house did when something had to be done.

They were, thus, relatively unhindered to speak about some particularly important points.

It had been Lamia's idea – the oldest of them all, the one who was a legal adult, the sibling who'd been let into the conversation with the adults two evenings ago.

Harfang saw the four absentees emerging from the manor and turned back to the kiosk itself.

His younger brother Orion – everyone here was their siblings, he would come to accept that, but Orion would still remain special to him – was huddled together with the two other youngest boys, sitting right on the floor as there weren't enough chairs out for everyone and they hadn't wanted to call Sterhn and bring more attention to their little reunion.

The kids didn't seem to mind.

Harfang found himself feeling grateful that Aldebaran and Shivansh were getting along with Orion. They had all lost so much, with this unexpected advent within another time, another world, another way things could have gone...

The sixteen-year-old boy couldn't help but wonder, where was their mother, now? If it was July 1979, then... Arella Selwyn was twenty years old, bordering on twenty-one. She was allowed, now, to go out in society in ways she hadn't been able to during her homeschooling, back when her oldest half-sister wasn't yet cemented as their father's first heir. The Selwyns, you see, didn't mind taking care of Lord Selwyn's illegitimate younger child, but Arella's step-mother, Seamus Selwyn's actual wife and mother of two of his three daughters, had agreed to the situation only with the assurance that Arella wouldn't be put forth as a close member of the family.

Harfang and Orion's mother, in her own words, hadn't wanted for anything during her childhood, except close connections and freedom. It had been a string of lonely years for her to grow up in – she was cordial with her half-sisters, but no more; her father spent little time with her, and her step-mother, while present, hardly showered her in affection; her birth mother only came by a week or two a year, if that, busy with her travels and hardly convinced with motherhood.

Maybe Harfang could go and meet Arella, one day. He didn't know what he'd say to her, though – so it would have to wait, until he could figure out a way to get close to his mother without endangering either himself and Orion or the others. If he did explain the truth to Arella... She would figure out that it was true for the other children too, and who knew who would end up hearing about it...

No, for now... For now, it was better to wait. Arella Selwyn was an adult and free to do as she pleased – as long as she didn't bring more shame on the House of Selwyn – and therefore her life was better than it used to be. She didn't need Harfang and Orion – and couldn't provide the teenagers with what they needed from her.

She wasn't, after all, the mother they had known.

Varsha and the triplets sat with everyone else: everyone was accounted for.

Lamia clapped her hands and they all looked up from the conversations and other pastimes they'd been at, aware that this – whatever it would turn out to be – was at its starting point.

"Alright, let's get this going. First order of business for us Miscellaneous Blacks, what do we do about the nineteen-year-old father who is, frankly, not the one any of us have known and grown up with, and also much too young to be anyone's actual father except Stefania's? Or, if there had been a youthful accident, which wouldn't happen with him of all people, he has about as much libido as a potted plant, but I'll grant it anyway, Juliet could be his too. You get my point. I don't think any of us are really comfortable thinking of Sirius as our father, and honestly, I believe it would be better for everyone involved if we decided on something else together..."

Harfang winced a bit – he barely remembered his father, and Orion didn't know him at all – but he understood all too well what Lamia meant by that. The Sirius Black of this time had less than four years on him, and none of the memories of raising children aside from the few weeks he'd had with Juliet. He didn't know any of them, and expecting him to be the same as all the versions of him the teenagers knew...

It would probably end in heartbreak.

Orion's disappointment, back during that first day – barely two days ago – at the Ministry, when he'd realized this wasn't the father he'd never really known...

It wasn't anyone's fault, here – certainly not Sirius' – but they had to find an alternative before it got worse, especially for the younger kids.

Harfang took a moment to look at the unease on his half-siblings' faces. Marianne and Dana, the other two sixteen-year-olds, seemed just as cautious as him with everyone's reactions. Varsha and Shivansh exchanged looks between themselves that obviously meant something to them but seemed far removed from the others' feelings. Juliet – who had been brought along even if she wasn't in the same situation as them, because they didn't want to isolate her – was staring at the ground; from what Harfang had gathered from those who knew an older version of her, she'd soon come to consider Sirius her second father, but wouldn't start calling him that before a few years. The triplets, who were supposedly not raised by any version of Sirius Black, were just as unnerved by the discussion as anyone else.

It was Alastor, the fourteen-year-old boy with black hair and green eyes – Lamia's oldest younger sibling – who finally spoke up:

"...Nothing forbids us from considering Sirius as something other than a father. He's... legally responsible for us, and in some ways he does hold the role of our father, but... Lamia, you said it. He's much too young for that. He could be, I don't know... an older brother? Separate from us, his biological children, but in the way you can be distant with a much older sibling. For Juliet and Dana it will be different, they are much younger and will be able to see him as a father as they grow up, but I suggest we simply call him by his first name."

Dana looked at her younger sister – Fania was, as usual, in her arms – with a frown; she was perhaps the most suited to judge that proposition, given the years between her and the baby.

"That... that could work, maybe. I don't know what it feels like to have a sibling you've grown up with, but Fania... It's different, definitely. With Fath... With Sirius, we could try. I'd be willing to ask him for everyone, if we're trying that."

It took a few awkward glances, but eventually everyone agreed – and Dana, sitting with her baby sister in her arms, gave Juliet by her side a small smile:

"If you want to call Sirius 'Dad', you should ask him, you know."

The girl gave a barely understandable answer – one that Harfang couldn't hear, but that had Dana shaking her head slowly, somewhere between acceptance and disappointment. Juliet probably wasn't yet to the point where she'd even really think of Sirius as her father, it hadn't been a month since her parents had died.

Lamia opened her mouth to continue with whatever she thought they all had to agree on, but someone else beat her to it:

"There's another important thing we should clarify."

Harfang frowned at the subdued tone, at the way Varsha wasn't looking at anyone when she spoke.

He'd gotten the impression she was an outgoing girl, positive and enthusiastic about life, from the few hours they'd spent together, both in the manor and while shopping with their great-aunt Lucretia. There were moments she'd look troubled, however, and not say a word for a few minutes.

Perhaps, Harfang reasoned, that was what she would sound like if she talked in those moments.

Lamia raised an eyebrow at the fourteen-year-old girl but shrugged:

"Go on, then."

"Yesterday, at Rosa Lee Teabag, we went over Hogwarts Houses. I remember it well: there are five of us in Griffindor, two in Ravenclaw, three in Hufflepuff and four in Slytherin. Shivansh, Aldebaran and Orion, of course, are unknown yet. But there's another thing we should have acknowledged, and of course Da... of course Sirius and the older generation didn't bring it up."

Shivansh, Harfang noticed, was wincing a bit at her sister's intervention. He knew what this was about, then. Didn't disagree with her, nor with her assumptions about the adults' stance on it.

The boy did, however, think there was a reason why whatever this was hadn't been brought up yet.

Varsha didn't pause for long.

"Blood purity."

"What... Wait, are you asking who's halfblooded here, because I don't think..."

Shivansh whined from behind Procyon, stopping the boy in his suspicions.

"Varsha! Why did you put it like that?!"

Harfang, who'd almost jumped in too, frowned and looked at the two siblings with Indian roots.

Varsha didn't look like she wanted or cared – or anything at all – about the subject of blood purity, she looked like she feared the answers she could get. He'd just thought it, too: there was something subdued about her demeanor.

Shivansh, him, looked frustrated with his sister's choice of words.

Harfang closed his eyes for a moment, decided it was better if someone intervened before more assumptions were made, and realized it wouldn't do anyone any good if he just waited for someone else to do it – the older teens here might think exactly the same, and then where would they be?

"...What do you mean, exactly, Varsha?"

Marianne added from where she stood, just behind Lamia:

"Are you asking our point of view about blood purity, perhaps?"

To her left, Almaric scoffed:

"Well of course we think it's hogwash, have you met our father?"

Varsha bit on her lower lip and didn't answer right away, which rang a rather shrill bell in Harfang's mind. He couldn't help but wonder if, perhaps, it was because of their common father – of the version she knew as her own – that she was asking.

He couldn't, however, ask that right out of the blue, in front of all his half-siblings and Juliet.

Especially not in front of Juliet, whose parents had been murdered right before her eyes by Death Eaters at the beginning of the month.

Instead, Harfang shook his head and latched onto the premise Procyon had unwittingly suggested:

"She has a point, though. We all have different mothers, I mean, not with our siblings, but with everyone else. It's... possible, that we didn't all have the same education. Look at me and Orion. Our father died when I was five years old and thus we were raised almost exclusively by our mother. It's not true for any of you, right?"

This time, it was Dana who winced.

"Hmm... I mean, my father is... was... well. He didn't die. But he also spent most of my childhood in Azkaban, so... Mamma did most of the job too, really."

Harfang's jaw almost fell down. He barely took notice of Varsha's flinch, too.

"Az... Azkaban? But... Why?"

Altair, who hadn't said anything since they'd started that reunion, spoke up.

"My Dad was there too. He escaped when he realized Esta... my mo... my mother, what she was doing to me, but until then I was all the time with her, especially after Grandmother Walburga died and Esta got on the bad side of Great-grandfather Arcturus."

"Wait, wait, wait, are we saying..."

Harfang couldn't believe it. This wasn't... He hadn't expected that.

He'd thought...

He'd thought Varsha's reluctance to look anyone in the eye was because she and Shivansh were the only ones who had grown up in a purist household – it didn't even have to be a Death Eater's one, just... a version of Sirius Black who hadn't walked away from his parents' beliefs – not because...

Harfang frantically tried to remember the few things he knew about each of the teenagers present. He hadn't noticed any tendency in favor of blood purism, or even something that would betray apprehension on the matter. Had any of them alluded to muggleborns in any way, had they looked nervously at the adults as they'd said one thing or another?

The boy couldn't remember, all of a sudden.

Lamia whistled.

"Okay, I didn't expect that particular subject to come up today... Well, out with it: whose dad spent years in Azkaban at some point?"

And she raised her hand in example, followed, of course, by her younger sister and brothers.

Altair did as much. Dana too. Nashira.

That was... That was four groups out of eight. That was a lot more than... No, Harfang hadn't expected anything like that. He hadn't expected to go back to the manor, later, and wait for Sirius to come back from his shift as an auror trainee and wonder if that version of his father was a traitor or a murderer too.

He'd thought, naively perhaps, that of course his father – Sirius, they'd decided it would be Sirius – was always on the right side of history, or at least more often than not.

Adrienne rolled her eyes and joined in:

"Well, my mom, because our version of Sirius is Adhara Black, let's remember that, my mom had to flee to Slovenia for a few years, does it count?"

Elizabeth frowned at that, even though her hand was still raised.

"What? Why for? Aunt Adhara isn't..."

Then she looked around her and seemed to rethink her words.

"Oops. That'll be for later. And I think I get it, anyway. Forgot for a bit..."

The triplets broke a completely silent discussion they'd been having and Antares confessed:

"Yeah, about being on the run... When we said we were raised by Rose and Sean Evans... We might have omitted the part where Dad passed himself off as a muggle named 'Sean' to escape the aurors."

Harfang was completely frozen on the spot, unsure of what to think, of what to do – it didn't make sense, none of them had seemed to care that Sirius worked for the Auror Office, but what if...

Varsha looked just as pale – her skin ashen in a sickly way – as he felt. Her eyes were on her younger brother, too far, with the way things were going, which had Harfang think of Orion, and...

Someone passed a hand before his eyes; Harfang jumped against the railing, almost hurting himself.

Marianne took a step back, looking worried.

"Are you... Are you alright, Harfang? You look..."

She stopped talking, her eyes going wide.

"Oh, no, it's not...! Guys, I think we messed up! Harfang, we are not saying our... fathers and mother... deserve to be in Azkaban because they were criminals. It's, hmm... Well, I can only guess for the others, but, our mom, back before... She worked with an auror, Helen Sangre, to infiltrate the Death Eaters. Only, things got a bit out of hand, Sangre was killed a few days before Voldemort's fall, and Mom had to run for a while. She got back to England with Lily Potter's help, though, cleared of all charges. And, later, after... Well, after, she married a muggleborn, our dad, so..."

Harfang looked at the girl – slightly younger than him, Hufflepuff, and so, so honest – hesitantly, but couldn't find a hint of deceit there.

His eyes sought out Varsha's. Her skin had regained a better hue, warmer in color, even if she still didn't look quite convinced. Her younger brother had also joined her from his spot with Aldebaran and Orion.

Orion. Harfang's brother... looked more confused than anything.

Harfang sighed. His younger brother could be a bit... naive, at times. He relied too much on first impressions. The others had all been kind enough so far, so he didn't believe they could hold any dangerous belief at all – and maybe, maybe he was right this time, but Harfang wasn't sure of that yet, and he feared the day Orion would be faced with someone who would be 'kind' until they got to a subject that would make them unkind.

Harfang, then, looked for the other oldest teens – Lamia, Dana. Marianne had already explained her side of the issue, but what about them?

Dana grinned sheepishly.

"...Sorry. I think I just assumed... My father was framed for murder right at the end of the first... of this war. The ones who could have vouched for him were dead, and with Voldemort gone, a lot of Death Eaters and other suspects were eventually caught and tried. Everyone except Dad. His file got lost in the chaos, the one in charge had to resign because his son was found out as a Death Eater... Mamma said people just assumed he'd had his trial, that those who were personally concerned were too busy feeling betrayed and dealing with everything else, after a while some also started fearing he'd be let free because of the procedural defect if they brought it up... It was a mess. Even our mother started believing it, or at least she didn't know what to believe and she was afraid for me. In the end, Dad did the same as Altair's father, he escaped from Azkaban, except for him it was because he'd caught the trail of the one who had framed him."

Altair mumbled:

"Yeah, that's also how it happened for me... The frame job, I mean."

Almaric piped up:

"Antares did say our dad passed himself off as a muggle, right? He was framed too, but he got away before the aurors could show up. Right now... Or, I mean, before we ended up here, a legal procedure had been launched to review the whole case because we'd caught the damn rat, so Dad was very close to being cleared too..."

Lamia gave Harfang a contrite laugh and gestured at her three siblings:

"Yeah, that sounds about right... Frame job, Dad in Azkaban, escapes when he finds the traitor again, finally acquitted. Same story, except none of us were born yet. He only got with Mom after his name was cleared. What about you, Nashira?"

The lone girl who looked so much like Lamia – and Sirius and Antares – nodded.

"I don't know if Dad's name was ever cleared, though. Something... happened, and he could never go back to the UK, and I'm not talking about legally or not, so he had to move on with his life."

Dana and Nashira shared a look – they also shared a bedroom, so Harfang guessed they might have talked about some of it before, that the fifteen-year-old had said something of the kind to the slightly older girl.

Lamia only offered Nashira a bemused look.

"Right. We'll ignore the blatant hole in that story, I think we all have our weird details we haven't shared yet, and we'll just appreciate the fact that none of our parents were branded as criminals because they deserved it, only because they were unlucky. Which is still kind of horrible, but not in the same way."

Then the oldest turned back towards Varsha and went to pat her on the back.

"No blood purist here, only the kids of a blood traitor. And, I guess, Old Arcturus back in the manor might have some views we disagree with, but I think he's more of a pragmatist?"

Dana nodded at that:

"Yeah, I knew him a bit before he died in my world, he's a bit... He does think there is value in purer blood, but it's more along the lines of preservation of tradition and a lack of trust towards anything entangled with muggles? I don't really know how to put it. Great-grandfather doesn't think muggleborns are trash, at least. And, he mostly doesn't care about muggles, as long as he doesn't have to interact with them."

Hyades, one of the triplets, quietly added:

"He doesn't believe different people, like wizards and muggles, rich and poor, old blood and new blood, can really understand each other or share the same goals or respect each other's priorities. That's why he's cautious about mingling."

Everyone stared at her for a moment, until her brother Almaric shook his head with a crooked smile.

"Better listen, she spies on everyone and knows everything. That's how she got in Ravenclaw."

Hyades threw him a cool look and didn't bother replying.

Lamia pinched her nose, rubbed her eyes, and declared they'd stop here for today, because that was enough emotion for one morning.

"We'll see the rest tomorrow, then?"

The oldest gave Harfang a long look as the other kids – except Marianne and Dana – started talking amongst themselves again, or went on their way in search of a new activity.

"Tomorrow is Sirius' day off, so no. Monday would be better. And you're awfully optimistic if you think we'll be done with only one more session..."