CHAPTER 2 - Deception, In D# Minor
12 July 1994 - The Grand Gymnasium - Chênenoir, 9:29AM
Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud.
A sweating and panting Sirius continued his rhythmic striking of the large punching bag, one of the many muggle additions he'd incorporated into the massive training room within his ancestral home. He'd been at it for well over an hour, and despite being drenched to the point of dripping all over the matted floor, he had no plans on easing up. While flying tended to be his preferred method of clearing his mind, Lord Black was entirely too distracted to keep focus.
Poor Porter - one of Chênenoir's groundskeeper elves - had screamed in fright when a loudly whooping Sirius had flown by the Owlery (upside down no less) during one of his 'let off some steam' sessions the previous summer.
The kindly senior elf would probably have a coronary if he had to resuscitate his Lord because the man suffered a crash.
Thoughts of his flying escapades led to thoughts of his godson, causing him to frown and strike the punching bag that much harder.
'They lied to me.'
Regulus was alive, and apparently had been alive since the last time the brothers had laid eyes on each other that fateful day in Hogsmeade. Both had said terrible - some might say unforgivable - things to each other, departing in unresolved fury. The next time Sirius heard his brother's name, it was on a list of the dead resulting from The Guildford Affair. Upon learning of his Regulus' apparent demise, a horrified Sirius grieved his lost brother as best as he could, throwing himself into his Auror training to do his part to stop the Death Eater scourge.
'But he was alive the whole time.'
He increased the speed of his strikes, expression contorted into a furious grimace.
Ironically enough, the earth-shaking discovery of his younger brother's existence didn't make up the bulk of his upset. It was the discovery that Lily and Harry both knew, and both had kept the information from him. Lily's deceit stung; he considered the witch a sister, and he was very angry that she'd kept such a secret from him. He was aware of the witch's prickliness and general trust issues as a Slytherin, but Sirius had worked very hard to earn her trust and her respect since his 'apology tour' in his Seventh Year and afterwards officially becoming Harry's godfather. He was practically family - the normal kind.
It hurt.
However, that was nothing compared to knowing that Harry was involved in this betrayal.
The truth had been written on the boy's face when he and Theo chanced upon the scene with his mother and Regulus. There'd been lots of shouting, mainly between the brothers Black as Lily and Harry (and even Theo) tried to run interference and prevent an actual duel from breaking out. His godson's guilt and distress had been readily obvious, but his godfather had been too far gone in his shock and rage to even feign rationality.
He'd furiously stomped out of the kitchen to the apparition point, angrily snarling at them to "stay the HELL away from me!"
Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud…thud-thud-thud!
He increased the force and frequency of his strikes.
Mother and son had been on the receiving end of the silent treatment since that terrible confrontation. Harry had sent several letters and attempted multiple Floo-calls, all soundly ignored. He'd even tried running interference with Ophelia when she dropped by The Keep to cook them meals (Sirius wasn't a complete monster), but the little elf hadn't been able to sway her Master's opinion when it came to breaking this particular impasse.
Despite his bitter ire, bubbles of guilt churned in his gut at the thought of ignoring his godson. They were as close to a father-and-son as possible, and Sirius was actively fighting the nigh ingrained paternal instinct to keep his distance from the boy.
Thud-thud-thud… Thud-thud-thud-thud!
'Why did they have to lie to me? Why?! It's not as if-'
His musings were interrupted by the arrival of a large and very intimidating komodo dragon patronus. It wore a strange expression of irritation and nervousness, immediately reminding Lord Black of its caster.
"Sirius, I know you're still very upset and I do not begrudge you that." Lily's voice was both quiet and tense. "You have every right to be angry…and I reckon if I were in your position I'd be equally furious. But please…don't shut Harry out." He flinched at the reminder. "He hasn't been eating or sleeping properly and he feels terrible that you found out about…you-know-what this way. He's your godson Sirius, practically your son in all the ways that matter. Please… Let me bear the brunt of your ire, not Harry." A tired sigh escaped the corporeal creature before it dissipated.
Hanging his head low, Lord Black took a few deep breaths before making up his mind.
Though he was entitled to his anger…Harry was and would always be much more important. A voice that suspiciously sounded like Charlus Potter murmured its approval in Sirius' head, furthering the man's resolve.
"Ophelia!"
POP!
"Yes Master?"
Flourish and Blotts - Diagon Alley, 10:42AM
Feigning peppiness, Villanelle Beauchamp - Polyjuiced in Yvette Dubois' form - diligently stacked the shelves in the Transfiguration section of the massive and quite frankly overflowing bookstore, making note of a few particular titles that she would pick up later. As a Transfiguration Mistress (and a DADA Mistress to boot), she was always on the hunt for less…mainstream subject matter to indulge her many curiosities.
Ever since her 'employer's' unceremonious reveal as a Death Eater, the former secretary was in need of work. And in La Mouche's case, work that would put her in the figurative 'middle' of Wizarding England's more accessible social hub that encompassed Diagon Alley, enough to acquire intel on the general 'mood' of the wizarding populace in response to Obediah's treachery.
Especially among the more loose-tongued that congregated in The Leaky Cauldron, pliant under the influence of ale and other such libations.
And, depending on the individual's proclivity towards pureblood fanaticism, more information on where the remainder of the Dark Twat's little sycophants could be hidden.
With a deft flick of her wand, not-Yvette finished her stacking, practically flouncing over to the next aisle. A flash of expensive lavender summer robes caught her eye, stalling her ministrations.
It was Lady Smith, nose turned up as she perused the closest shelves with a critical eye. Villanelle had been tracking her since the most recent Wizengaomot session, as the woman was a veritable font of information, unable to help her gossipy tendencies when around her sister-in-law Isolde Fenwick, Camellia Brown, and Ladies Avery and Ogden. Whilst Summerisles was their preferred rendezvous space, they also frequented The Fair-Haired Filly, a posh little haunt in Hogsmeade for the more upscale of patrons to enjoy their favorite harsh liquors. Looser tongues always commenced, especially that of Isolde - the current Assistant to the Head of the Office of Magic Administrative Services.
What a boon it would be to her mission to fully ingratiate herself to the witch whose department served as the heart of nearly all of the administrative affairs - personnel included - within the Ministry of Magic.
Schooling her expression, not-Yvette made her way over to Matilda, deftly pretending to bump into her target.
"Oh! Pardonnez-moi madame! I…I didn't see you there!"
Matilda's nose momentarily wrinkled, expression imperious. "Do be careful." Then, her eyes narrowed slightly. "Do…do I know you from somewhere?"
Villanelle blushed, demurring her gaze. "Oui madame. I am Yvette Dubois. I am…I was…the secretary to Mr. Prewett. That is, before…" she winced and looked away, allowing her expression to become saddened with mild disgust.
"Ah," replied Matilda gently. "I understand. Is that why you are working…here?" There was a mocking lilt to her tone that drew a snort from Villanelle, though one she expertly repressed as she continues to fake humility.
"Indeed. I…I wanted to remain in England, get a bit of real-world experience before I started my law mastery." She was thankful for the real-Yvette's memories providing the narrative. "I'd even hoped to do my mastery under Mr. Prewett; general family studies or inheritance law. But now…I'll have to return home with almost nothing to show for my efforts. My père isn't going to be too pleased with me."
She sniffed pitifully while swiping at her shiny eyes, evoking a few tuts of sympathy from Lady Smith.
"You poor dear, you have had a hard time haven't you?" She couldn't help but be a touch condescending even as she handed the witch a conjured handkerchief. "Remind me…who is your father again?"
Not-Yvette blinked in lieu of rolling her eyes at the other witch's snooty presumption.
"Beaumont Dubois. My maman is Eugénie Dubois née Volant."
"Aaah!" replied Matilda with much more sincerity than she'd initially shown. "Two very proper families, esteemed for generations. A tad bit rare these days," she sniffed. Lady Smith was definitely a pureblood traditionalist, as obvious in her countenance as her commentary. "Tell me, how are Baz and Nadie? It's been a while since we've seen each other since our Beauxbatons days."
'Going with familiarity, eh?'
Villanelle smiled in a manner approximating warmth. "Quite fine. Cousin Balthazar is with the Inspecteurs in the Bureau of Aurors, rising through the ranks as expected under Chief Lestrade's tutelage. Cousin Nadège is thriving at the Bureau de Coordination des Affaires Magiques Internationales, what with being the youngest Office Head in recent history."
That, and apparently serving as a broker for rare and rather illegal antique artifacts for Le Milieu in her stead as La Moqueur. 'Marta Morel' (La Mouche's cover identity within Le Milieu) had been both shocked and amused to discover that tidbit, not all too surprised given the other witch's…proclivities.
"Oh that's so wonderful dear!" Matilda's expression turned calculating as she regarded the doe-eyed witch before her. "Tell you what; I find myself in need of a personal secretary. I am utterly swamped with my social calendar as is, and with the children being home for the summer, I find myself being run ragged!" She fanned herself dramatically whilst not-Yvette tutted in faux-sympathy. "I require some basic administrative services; errands I simply don't have time to run, some minor things to pick up for the children here and there, helping to set up the occasional tête-à-tête between the girls and I, poor Felicity's been run ragged since Cornelius' passing and-oh! Look at me just rambling away!" She tittered girlishly, the sound perfectly mimicked by an internally-sneering Villanelle.
"No worries madame, I really appreciate the offer!"
"Excellent! I'll pay you well, 50 galleons a week should be more than enough!"
'Well look at that…looks like I won't be needing any pocket money from Le Garde-Chiourme.'
Giggling demurely, faux-Yvette replied: "I appreciate your kindness and this opportunity madame. I assure you, you will not be disappointed!" She even dipped in a proper curtsy, demonstrating her would-be respect for Matilda's Lady-hood.
It worked as the older blonde tittered delightedly, before deftly looping her arm through her new secretary and escorting them out.
'Have to make sure I owl in my resignation letter to Mr. Plummly before the day ends.'
The Solarium - The Evans Keep, 12:51PM
The Brothers Black both stared intensely at each other, neither wanting to be the one who broke the silence.
They were currently seated across from one another in the warmly-lit solarium, a beautiful and wizardspace enhanced room created of flawless Unbreakable glass and gilded beams of magically reinforced steel. Flowering Venomous Tentacula framed said beams, currently dormant due to a series of Parselrunes inscribed in the metal. Antique vases housing more mundane plants surrounded the room proper, their bright and lush foliage enhancing the scene. Despite the unrelenting humid heat of the outdoors, the charmed window panes reflected a picturesque sunny day, the inside comfortably temperate.
The table between them was laden with the remnants of their lunch; hearty servings of rich garlic bread, chilled gazpacho, savory rosemary lamb mini pies, a hefty bowl of freshly tossed Greek salad, all accompanied by a perfectly chilled bottle of 1784 Château d'Yquem straight from Chênenoir's expansive cellars. Dessert was a large blackberry and strawberry pie accompanied by rich vanilla ice-cream, fresh homemade whipped cream, and Turkish coffee.
Ophelia had really outdone herself.
Granted, Sirius' arrival at The Keep hadn't been to have lunch with his brother, but rather to reconvene with Lily and Harry to try to get past their conflict. Unfortunately, Lily hadn't been willing to entertain that until Sirius hashed it out with his brother first, as it would provide some "necessary context" prior to mother and son coming clean. In a flash, the witch summoned Regulus (whom Sirius realized was living in one of the home's guest rooms!) before unceremoniously shoving the two brothers into the solarium so they could have "as much privacy as they needed." Though in typical Lily-fashion, she'd threatened to hex both of them straight to St. Mungo's "for at least a week!" if they resorted to dueling in her home and damaging any property.
As both were well aware of the redhead's magical prowess and her ability to deliver on all her threats, they sensibly kept their wands holstered as they marched into the room to have their long overdue chat.
Some additional minutes passed, before Regulus tiredly sighed and set his half-eaten dessert aside.
"Alright then…I'll go first."
Internally crowing but maintaining a blank expression, Sirius just nodded at his brother.
And with that, Regulus told his long and harrowing tale, starting with when he agreed to accompany Cousin Narcissa to a Death Eater rally with Mother and Father's overt encouragement. The feelings of deep discomfort and unease at the Dark Lord's words, mirrored by his audience. Having to endure those 'meetings' several times over, stressing the boundaries of his Occlumency abilities to repress the rising disgust and dismay at the Rosier brothers and Antonin Dolohov as he was 'officially' drafted into the latter's cell for initiation.
(Spending one night camped in his bathroom in Grimmauld Place caught between crying and vomiting in the grips of a panic attack as he finally learned exactly what would be expected of him during a raid, all as a horrified Kreacher kept vigil.)
A somewhat redacted version of the events in Guildford, skimming over his killing of Fabian Prewett. Though still not cleared for active duty, Sirius remained a sworn officer of the law and thus would be legally required to arrest his brother if he confessed to murder.
Regulus then launched into the arrival of the Knights and how they, ironically enough, rescued him from the Death Eaters.
"...Lils and Riddle are the ones who saved you?"
His brother sighed tiredly. "In a manner of speaking, yes. In exchange for not dispatching me as they were well within their rights to do with me being caught red-handed, Riddle decided to utilize my unique abilities for key missions to support the right side of the war efforts. Thankfully, all out of England. I…I didn't have a future here anymore. Not then."
A few moments passed in relative silence before Sirius spoke:
"Why…why didn't you come to me?" Regulus startled at the pained intensity in his brother's voice. "I would have helped you, regardless of wherever we stood. I know…I know our confrontation in Hogsmeade left us both on poor terms (Regulus flinched at the reminder), but you were…are still my brother - flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood, a Black of Black just as I am. Grandfather drilled that into both our heads despite me being in Gryffindor and you in Slytherin…despite whatever bullshite stunts Mother and Father pulled. Why?!"
Regulus rubbed a tired hand over his face. "Because at that point, too much…entirely too much had passed. I was in way too deep and I really didn't see any other way out. Mother and Father's expectations were to be met at that point…what with you being gone-"
"I had no choice but to leave Grimmauld." Sirius' tone was both sharp and grave as his brother visibly winced.
"I…I know Sirius, I know."
An ugly look overtook the older wizard's features. "How?" he asked sharply. "I never told you about that."
"...You…you didn't have to."
And with that, he recounted hiding in a small alcove that led right to the main Receiving Parlor, witnessing with wide eyes as an utterly furious Dorea Potter stormed through the Floo and cast a powerful and nonverbal Petrificus at a startled Orion before turning her ire onto Walburga.
For the first time in his life, Regulus had felt fear for his deranged mother, truly believing Walburga would meet her inevitable demise at Lady Potter's hand. The unrelenting force and power behind the repeated Baubilious spells were literally frying the witch as she screamed bloody murder, all while an irate and wild-eyed Dorea stood over her seizing form like a vengeful goddess of olde.
The scent of burning flesh and hair beginning to permeate the air before Grandfather apparated directly into the room courtesy of Ophelia. Arcturus had been content to observe the scene for a few seconds, before gently commanding his sister to stop in his 'Lord Black' voice. And in another unexpected display of gentility, calmly placing his hand over her wand arm and whispering something into the witch's ear that seemed to loosen her rage, enough for her to nod once and briskly make her exit through the Floo.
Seeing the look on Grandfather's face, one that spoke of contempt and retribution as he stared unblinkingly at his son and his wife as though deciding which of the two would earn the privilege of him killing them first. Terrified at the potential implications and not wanting to bear witness to his parents' potential deaths, Regulus simply fled to his rooms.
Sirius gaped at that revelation, as Charlus and Dorea had never divulged that tidbit of info with him either.
"Answer me this," Lord Black said after a few awkward moments. "If you really believed all that bigoted propaganda rubbish Mother and Father constantly spewed, why in Circe's name were you ever friends with Lily?!" To his shock, matching spots of pink bloomed on his younger brother's cheeks as he quickly looked away.
"She was…she was always the exception."
"I don't bloody believe it!" Sirius exclaimed with a shocked laugh as Regulus turned visibly red. "All this time James thought Snape was the biggest obstacle for Lily's affections, and come to find out, it was really you! Ha! Rules for thee but not for me, eh Brother Mine?" The elder Black snorted out another disbelieving laugh as he helped himself to a slice of pie, deftly ignoring his blushing brother's wince.
While Regulus had believed that purebloods were inherently better (hard not to when it'd been drilled in his head since infancy) it had been a matter of longstanding ideology, something that simply was and simply would be. He'd chalked Mother and Father's disturbingly violent outbursts regarding muggleborns to them simply being…Mother and Father. At most, all they'd have to contend with would be the usual drama in the Wizengamot and at most, a political kerfuffle between the usual bickering factions within the wizarding government.
Then the Dearborns happened, and seeds of doubt began sprouting in Regulus' mind at the brutality the so-called superior of their society would be capable of. Allowing himself to be swayed by the cajoling of his 'true believer' peers in Slytherin House who claimed the horrors were being propagated by Alexander McAvity as the real Dark Lord, ignoring his misgivings.
The increasing frequency of raids, accompanied by more atrocious acts of violence against more muggles, muggleborns, and halfbloods and purebloods who didn't comply, causing the seeds of distrust to properly bloom.
Despite his growing lack of faith in pureblood ideology, still espousing the Dark Lord's mission to maintain the status quo so Slytherin House wouldn't tear itself apart and fall prey to the other Houses chomping at the bit for their demise. Receiving his Questing Letter and successfully arguing his Vision the same, pleasantly surprised to discover Evans was a Claimant as well.
Ultimately winning the Throne and, after much effort, successfully convincing Lily to stay on as his Consiliarius by claiming that his advocacy of the Dark Lord's would-be agenda was merely a clever ruse to maintain peace within the Serpent's Nest, all but swearing to her that he did not believe in the vicious dogma of their more vocal classmates.
Her agreeing, which also meant Severus joining his Administration. Together, all three working to establish and maintain necessary order from the shadows of Slytherin House. His Consilierii graduating a year before him and having to rely on Winifred Abbott and Jacob Orpington to fill that void, the three taxing all of their abilities to keep the Snake House from imploding as the war raged on.
(Discovering that Lily was actually going to go through with her engagement with the absolute tosser that was James-buggering-Potter, and that thanks to House Black's Charter, he would not be able to ask for her hand in marriage and escape all the madness that plagued their world.)
Suddenly, the Prince Emeritus exhaled in frustration, tiredly rubbing his hand over his face as he poured himself another glass of wine. His brother did the same, and as one the two allowed some silence to brew.
"Moving on then," said Sirius quietly. "What exactly did Riddle have you do for him?"
Thirty Minutes Later…
No sooner than Regulus finally divulged the horrifyingly traumatic tale of Matilda and Leo's demise did he feel himself be swept up in a crushing wave by his brother. He belatedly realized he was sobbing, chest-wracking sobs of agony as he finally, finally loosened the Occludic strains that kept those heart-wrenching memories at bay. Tears trailed down Sirius' face as well, both in commiseration for his brother's grief and in recollection of his beloved Marlene's fate.
The moment stretched on as the brothers held onto each other, silently grieving their own ghosts and their shared heartache.
After a while, the two broke free, cleaning themselves up as best as they could.
"What a pair we make huh?"
Regulus choked out a laugh, dabbing at his face with his napkin as Sirius mimicked his movements. The elder Black refilled their wine glasses, pausing to toast each other in honor of their newfound truce.
"So brother…why did you finally decide to come back to England?"
Regulus sighed, before steeling his expression. "I want to tell you that Sirius, really I do. But before I'm able to, you'll need to talk to Harry and Lily first. Preferably in that order."
2:41PM
Feeling more nervous than he expected, Sirius took a deep and centering breath. He was standing in front of his godson's bedroom door, unable to help the small smile at the shimmying snakey motifs that made up the letters in 'Harry's Room'.
'No time like the present.'
Knock-knock-knock!
"Come in!"
Entering, Lord Black couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. Harry was sprawled in his massive bed and surrounded by several piles of books, many of which were well-beyond a rising Fourth Year's level. Sunlight streamed through the charmed windows, casting a bright glow through the expansive room. High vaulted ceilings stretched upward as though infinite, spelled with similar magicks of Hogwarts' Great Hall ceiling, today showing a cloudless and clear blue summer sky. Plush emerald green rugs covered the ebony wood floors, the same wood making up the large desk that dominated the westernmost wall, also teeming with books, parchment, inkwells, and all types of quills. Several animated pictures of Harry with his family and friends surrounded the walls, interspersed with picturesque paintings of landscapes and lots of Quidditch paraphernalia.
"Um…hi Sirius!"
"Hey mate. Time for that chat, yeah?"
"Yeah! Um…gimme a mo'!" He quickly unholstered his wand and with a muttered Pack spell, sent all his books back on their rightful bookshelf, clearing enough space for he and his godfather to comfortably sit.
Sirius shifted awkwardly as Harry did the same, neither really knowing how to begin this kind of conversation. The awkwardness persisted before Harry steeled his expression, turning to look his godfather directly in his eye.
"I need to say this Sirius; I'm sorry. I am sorry for lying to you." The sincerity in his voice was staggering. "I know I could say that my keeping this particular secret from you was a matter of 'Slytherin necessity', but that… that won't be enough. We're family, we've always been family, and as family, we're not supposed to keep these kinds of secrets from each other. Not just in the event that they may blow up spectacularly in our faces later on…but, because it's not the right thing to do. I know I don't really deserve your forgiveness right now, but…but I'll ask you for it anyway and hope to Merlin, Circe, Nimue, and the entire pantheon that you'll give it to me. And though I have no right to ask this…please forgive mum as well. You and I both know she considers you family as well, and while she's an infinitely more seasoned Slytherin than either of us to ever hope to be (Sirius snorted) she…she would never go out of her way to purposefully hurt you. Because that's not what family does, not our family."
"Oh Harry…I forgive you. Always." And without waiting for a response, a teary-eyed Sirius swept Harry in a fierce hug. The boy returned the gesture in equal measure, feeling as though a literal weight had been lifted off his shoulder. The two held on as
"Did I mention that you're my favorite godson?"
Harry tearfully laughed. "Not as of late, but it helps that you're my favorite godfather." He wiggled his eyebrows cheekily as Sirius barked out his signature laugh, causing the Slytherin to erupt in a fit of giggles. A few moments passed before Harry's expression sobered.
"There are a few other things I need to tell you that…sort of relate to Regulus coming back to England. Important things that you need to know, and in line with our new 'honesty policy', things you deserve to know."
His godfather's expression softened. "I appreciate that mate. Really. I just need to talk to your mum and - SWEET CIRCE! SNAKE! HARRY LOOKOUT!"
The boy's eyes widened, lightly dilating as he registered a horrified Sirius unholster his wand and point in a startled Selma's direction, maw opened wide to reveal dripping fangs in response to this new threat. She was mid-slither from the headboard to her favorite pillow, having moved from her specialized terrarium which would have kept her hidden from Sirius' gaze.
"VIPERA EVA-"
"NO!"
His godfather gawked at Harry's reaction, wondering if he'd briefly gone insane and taken the whole Slytherin thing a touch too far. His jaw dropped when his godson hissed, the Parseltongue syllables flowing effortlessly from his tongue as the snake - a bloody adder! - visibly calmed and slinked up the boy's arm, said arm which was then raised to the snake could tickle his godson's nose with its forked tongue.
"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!"
Harry giggled nervously as he stroked his familiar's head. "So…about those other 'important things' you needed to know…"
3:40PM
Concern was the primary emotion Theo was feeling, watching with wide eyes as Lord Black knocked back his third shot of Old Blishen's Finest, lightly smacking his lips. Granted, he really couldn't blame him given the sheer mountain of shite they'd dumped on his doorstep.
Harry had somehow succeeded in calming the man down after his initial discovery, leading him downstairs as he called for his mother, Regulus, and Theo. Lily then summoned Tom, and together, the entire group settled in the solarium. One Calming Draught later, a much more temperate Lord Black was ready.
A visibly nervous Lily began by apologizing to Sirius for her role in keeping Regulus' continued existence secret, surprised at being so easily forgiven. Lord Black then swore the necessary secrecy oaths before he was finally read in.
He took the revelation of his godson and his mother being Parselmouths much better than expected, especially once revealed it was through their descendancy from Salazar Slytherin. "A bloodline ability, we Blacks have that with Animagery and Metamorphmagery, as you can see with my brother and I." It definitely helped soften the blow of learning that his godson and his mother were related to the bloody Toymaker, once more pleased that the stark raving wanker was dead.
Sirius then coyly asked if Lord Gaunt was a parselmouth too, and all had been treated to the hilarious sight of a squawking Sirius jumping about as a result of the hissed Capilla Medusa spell that transformed his thick black locks into scarlet milksnakes.
"So in addition to the Trelawney 'Boy-Who-Lived' prophecy, there's apparently another prophecy that says that you," he paused to look in Harry's direction, "will destroy our world?! All because you ended up being Sorted into Slytherin?! And that's what made James act like a complete and utter wanker for almost five years?!"
His godson flinched. "Yeah…it's probably better if I just tell you."
"And before we do that, I think clearer heads are needed to prevail." And without waiting for a response, he flicked his fingers in the direction of the whisky, disappearing the contents in the tumbler and causing it and the closed bottle to sail in the direction of the kitchen.
"Show off," grumbled Sirius.
Rolling his eyes, Tom called out "Mab!"
POP!
"Yes Master?"
"A full tea set please. Jasmine, chamomile, and lavender. Some…" he paused in Sirius' direction. "Sobering Potion too, along with some pastries to accompany our beverages."
"Right away Master." She bowed and disappeared, before reappearing less than a minute later with a massive floating tea set and a multitiered tray teeming with scones, biscuits, muffins, and all manner of mini fruit tarts. A sharp snap of the elf's fingers set the treats down and with a reverent curtsy towards Tom, Mab disappeared.
Each prepared a cup of their preferred tea and pastries, and once settled, Harry revealed the entirety of the First Potter Prophecy.
It was no surprise to see Sirius turn pale at each line of the damning prophecy, eyes growing wide with each word. That is, until the very end.
"Hang on a mo'... 'And the Last Potter rises as the Prince of Slytherin'?"
"Um…yeah," Harry replied nervously, exchanging tense glances with the others.
Sirius' eyes narrowed before scoffing. "Oh please, that's a load of bollocks!" Jaws dropped. "You can't be the 'Prince of Slytherin' Harry, you're not even Spanish!" He scoffed again as he bit into a buttered raspberry scone, peripherally aware of the shocked expressions levied his way. The adults were especially dumbfounded that a Gryffindor would have
"...What…what exactly do you think the 'Prince of Slytherin' entails, Sirius? And how does that relate to having Spanish ancestry?"
Lord Black shrugged glibly. "Well that's obvious, it has to…wait a minute." His expression turned teasing as he gazed at each of their faces. "Do I know something that the mighty-and-all-knowing Tom Riddle doesn't know?! Ha-haaaa! Give me a mo', I need to soak it all in." He closed his eyes as though basking in the moment, before jerking at the chocolate muffin tossed into his face by a scowling Lily as the others chuckled.
"Fine fine, I'll tell you lot. I'm sure you're all familiar with the Inheritance Act of 1588, yes?" He chuckled at their impatient nods. "Well then, I'm sure you all know of Duke Esteban de Cortez y Slytherin. He related to then-House Blackwood via his grandmother Duchess Miranda Slytherin née Blackwood. As you all know, House Blackwood was a vassal of my family before… certain events of 1586 which I won't bother getting into. Anywho, she married then-Duke Baltasar Slytherin, one of the thirteen mage-lords whose family made up El Corte Mágico - wizarding Spain's equivalent to the Wizengamot. Together they bore a daughter Elara, a very powerful witch in her own right who grew up to marry Laureano, Heir Apparent of the sitting Duke Aurelio Cortez. Their family was exceptionally influential as well, and the unification of their two houses was considered a great political boon…or threat depending on who you asked."
He paused to take a sip of his jasmine tea.
"Elara and Laureano bore Esteban, who apparently displayed signs of accidental magic at the tender age of six months. As an adult, he was considered one of the most powerful Slytherin-descended wizards of his time outside of England, and that title was well-earned. He was the premier magical Naval Commander of King Philip II's fleets, on account of both his ability and his maternal and paternal families being favorites of ole Phil's court. It was even rumored that Esteban may have been an arch-mage on account of his exceptional command of weather magic, hence why he was so bloody good at his job. He attended Durmstrang and was part of a House called 'storm-bringers' I believe? And-"
"Storm Kings," interjected Tom. "The correct term is Storm Kings…or Queens if we're speaking of witches. They are 'chosen' for House Perun in Durmstrang, with rumors abound that those selected for that House can trace ancestry to their namesake god as their magical souls are believed to align with the elemental facets of the weather. It's mostly myth that's aimed at magnifying the House's public image, so to speak, given that all are highly adept at weather magic. Well, with the exception of Clan Krum."
"Clan Krum?" asked Theo curiously.
"Yes. Commonly referred to as 'House Krum', they are one of the most powerful and influential magical families of the Balkan Alliance, tracing their ancestry all the way from Magna Bulgaria under rule of Kubrat to the First Bulgarian Empire and under rule of Khan Krum. Kubrat and Khan were descendants of Natanail Krum, historically known as the Infallible Archmage and founding Kanasubigi of the magical Clan Krum. It is widely believed that the entire family could trace their lineage all the way back to a secret dalliance between the god Perun and the witch Bogdana Krum, given the House's strong proclivity to be Chosen for House Perun within Durmstrang. Lady Vasilka Yaxley is a former Krum and she and her sisters - with the exception of one - were Chosen as Storm Queens. Her mother is a Storm Queen, along with their uncle Branislav - the current Lord Krum. But that's not the topic at hand. Continue on, Sirius."
Lord Black nodded. "As I was saying, Esteban was an exceptional Naval Commander, who already had quite a few victories under his belt with the Battle of Alborán and the Battle of Ponta Delgada. The Spanish Armada was to be his crown-jewel, and if he had been successful, would have secured his…elevation.
"Elevation?" asked Lily curiously.
"Yes," replied Sirius. "King Phil recognized power when he saw it, and Esteban had that in spades. If he could secure the victory with the Armada invasion against England and oust ole Lizzie and the Wizengamot families, Phil promised to grant Esteban his own namesake principality, a mini-kingdom that would ostensibly govern the other sitting families of El Corte Mágico."
"Making him a literal Prince of Slytherin." Tom looked uncharacteristically flabbergasted, as did the others.
"Precisely. So long as he swore undying fealty to Phil, Esteban would rule all of what was considered magical Spain. Naturally, the other families of the Corte did not take that well. Dukes Oquendo, Bazán, Guzmán, de Idiáquez, de Moura, and a few others all got together and planned a coup; they paid off the right people to sabotage Esteban's fleet through some combination of runic and blood magick spells, with rumors that they even snuck in a rogue Storm King to offset Esteban's spells. Needless to say, the Armada failed tremendously and Esteban barely escaped with his life. Philip was furious, and together with support from the Duke's saboteurs, stripped him and his family of the titles and entailed land and expelled from Spain, both he, his heir, and any descendants permanently banned from El Corte. It was comparable to the Ultimate Sanction here in England, though without the magical compulsion bit. Rumor has it that the Corte placed a Taboo Hex on the Slytherin name to prevent it from being spoken, though that was never proven."
"How come I never heard of this?" asked Regulus indignantly as the others absorbed the mountain of compelling information.
Sirius shrugged. "Heirship duties and all that. Grandfather made sure I would be aware of almost every minutiae of detail pertaining to House Black's history and its relation to Wizengamot affairs at-large. Blimey, all of those summer hours spent in Chênenoir reading through the historical journals left by our predecessors. Merlin, could some of them prattle on!"
He shuddered dramatically as he polished off his scone, snatching up another.
"Trust me Harry," Sirius said after swallowing. "It would be literally impossible for you to be the Prince of Slytherin. Not sure how that Cassandra Trelawney figured that title would have to do with House Potter, but I imagine she may have been a bit of a nutter like her however-many-times-great descendant."
Sirius' confidence waned at the looks the Slytherins exchanged with each other, causing his Padfoot-senses to tingle.
"What? What are those looks for?"
Harry sighed.
Twenty-Three Minutes Later…
Ignoring Tom and Lily's disapproving looks, Sirius deftly knocked back a shot of his re-Summoned Blishen's. "I have a half a bloody mind to transfer you out of that damned school Harry." His godson snorted in amusement, knowing his godfather was halfway joking and that given his new status as Lord Wilkes, Sirius really couldn't compel him to switch from Hogwarts.
Some moments passed in tense silence before Lord Black's eyes narrowed. "You know, as insane as these revelations have been, I have an inkling that it's not the entirety of what you all need to tell me." The light guilty shifting of Harry and Theo confirmed his suspicions. "Seriously, we're supposed to be maintaining a newfound policy of honesty and-"
"Stop."
Sirius stiffened at Tom's command. "Excuse me Tom, but-"
"You have to stop Sirius. Now." He leaned forward, the intensity of his expression causing the younger wizard to freeze as the others exchanged tense glances. "There are things we should tell you - things you do need to know - but if we divulge those details to you, you will have no choice in your stead as an Auror to arrest all of us save Theo on charges varying from criminal conspiracy to actual treason."
Gray orbs bulged. "What?!" He gaped before scowling fiercely. "AND YOU GOT MY GODSON WRAPPED UP IN THIS?!"
"Chalk it up to Slytherin necessity." A Padfoot-like growl emanated from his chest, causing Lily to roll her eyes as Tom blinked. "And despite him being Lord Wilkes, he would not be spared from serious punitive measures given our…actions… and that's just what the DMLE would do to us. I know this may not be what you want to hear, but until the point you are no longer oathbound as an Auror, there are things we cannot tell you. Please, understand."
All Sirius could do in the moment was glower, chewing over Tom's words.
Later that Night…
"Enter."
And with that, Le Guêpe entered Le Garde-Chiourme's office and gave his customary bow, immediately coming to attention.
"Your update?" asked Gabriel softly.
"Yes sir." Sébastien Trouche shifted nervously, the action glaringly obvious to his superior. "The situation with Volodymyr is…considerably worse than we were expecting."
An elegant brow quirked. "Oh? How so?"
With a practiced breath, the younger wizard revealed all that he'd learned from his previous meetings with the Pakhan and all the intel he'd gleaned. It wasn't much (Volodymyr wasn't one to play all of his cards so soon), but what little he'd been able to acquire regarding the criminal mastermind's intended goals was sufficiently disturbing.
The perfectly blank expression on Gabriel's face didn't help either, indicative of his cold fury.
"La Trésorière dropped by Jerome's office at the Cabaret, along with L'Actuaire. They expressed a lot of concern about the increased amount of…profit the business has been generating, since they have to wrangle with how much is diverted into Gringotts and the necessary muggle banks to maintain the business' legitimacy. I can presume neither has been read in on the real-Jerome's situation…"
"No," was the clipped response. "La Veuveblanc is aware and fully cooperating with approval from Le Caïd. I will correspond with her and give the go-ahead to inform her spécialistes. You will of course continue your assignment at the Cabaret. Reconvene in Conference Room 5, L'Abeille and Le Moustique are there awaiting additional instructions for your next operation."
"Yes sir." With a quick bow the younger Chevalier exited the office, leaving Gabriel to his churning thoughts.
Despite their successes, Le Guêpe and La Nenette's intel could only reveal so much. The former - when polyjuiced as Jerome Fletcher - was considered a new player in the Bratva's scheme and thus any intel he acquired would only provide a fraction of the Pakhan's intent. The latter was more so restricted, her primary area of focus within Fletcher's club and its many…colorful patrons. Unless she lucked up and crossed paths with a client who just so happened to be embedded in
Taking deep Occludic breaths, Gabriel considered his other options. He could convince Sabine to allow him to engage La Sentinelle's services, but her skills ultimately lay in tracking and asset retrieval. Unless one of his agents ended up missing or worse, held captive by the Bratva, she could only yield so much. L'Enfant would excel at an infiltration given his neverending charm and high social intelligence, but he was entirely too public-facing of a persona with a good reputation that couldn't afford to be sullied by entangling with the most unsavory factions of the criminal underworld.
'There is one other option…'
And that thought gave him great pause. Granted, this choice had potential to be exceptionally effective given this particular agent's skill, and given the depth of her abilities he knew she could succeed in the task without question. Both she and the intended target would be present at the upcoming European Junior Dueling Tournament, and based on the limited dossier on Borys Tkachenko - second eldest son of Volodymyr and current student of House Chernobog of Durmstrang. The budding egomaniac was participating with full intent to win his category.
'She shouldn't even be participating in this tournament,' he thought, unable to repress his scowl.
She was one of his best assets because the true depths of her abilities were kept secret. However, it was one of the hard-wrought concessions both La Dompteuse and La Damoiselle fought for, though given the nature of their conscription, Gabriel didn't really have to agree.
But he had, because she was family.
"EXPECTO PATRONUM." Silvery light poured from his pine wand, coalescing into his buzzard messenger. "Le pion se déplace en e4… pion se déplace en e5… Le cavalier saute en f3…le cavalier passe en c6…" Coeus turned on swift wings to deliver his message.
Almost fifteen minutes passed before a sharp-eyed goshawk flew in and landed on his desk. "La Fou avance en c4."
Gabriel sighed. "Let the games begin."
AN 1:Nice to see Harry & Lily make up with Sirius. Seems like Lord Black will have a final decision to make regarding his career path if he wants to know all of Team Azkabal's secrets.
AN 2: Gabriel's message is a reference to the first four moves that typically lead to Giuoco Piano ('Quiet Game'), a chess opening that allows the space for aggressive gameplay for white's bishop (especially if followed by Evans Gambit). We will see La Fou in motion in a few more chapters.
AN 3: The role of Matilda Smith is played by Lucy Punch in her role as Susannah Henderson in the After the Funeral episode of Poirot.
AN 4: According to affective musical theory, D# Minor evokes feelings of the anxiety of the soul's deepest distress, or of brooding despair, which I thought fitting for the angsty bulk of drama between Sirius, Reg, Lily, & Harry.