The timid lights of dawn emerged from behind the mountains surrounding Hogwarts, reflecting off the ocher leaves of the trees in the middle of that autumn, making the castle and its grounds seem bathed in gold. Amidst that landscape, a solitary figure stood out. A young woman with black, curly hair walked seriously along the path that led out of the Herbarium. She carried, in addition to her books, a cloth bag containing some herbs she intended to use in Potions class. Marguerith Black was so engrossed in her future tasks that she only noticed at the last second that she was lifted and spun in mid-air. Involuntarily, she let out a startled scream.
"No need to scream, milady, it's just me, your most devoted servant," replied a dark-haired young man with blue eyes.
"Alphie? It could only be you playing such a trick on me!" replied the girl, already back on the ground and recovering from the scare.
The young man broke into a wide smile.
"Admit it, Marge, I make your life much more fun."
The Slytherin looked at the young man with pretended seriousness, though an unconfessed amusement sparkled in the depths of her greenish eyes.
"You really are incorrigible, aren't you, Alphie? I see you've already got your guitar slung over your shoulder. The day has barely begun and you're already dedicating yourself to idleness. Or, as I suspect from your dark circles and dull look, you went with Abraham and Bartemius to the Hog's Head again, indulging in Dragon's Breath, music, and women, and just now got back to the castle."
"Women are Bart's exclusive department, Marge," the young man replied with a playful smile on his lips. "You know I'm an artist devoted to sincere love. I want to dedicate my life to idolizing a single muse, the continuous inspiration of my songs: you."
"Sure," replied the Slytherin incredulously, kneeling to gather some herbs that had fallen to the ground. "Alphard, you're a Black; you should behave accordingly..."
The young man also knelt, helping his cousin put the herbs back in the bag and picking up the books that had fallen because of his prank.
"You don't take me seriously, Marguerith," he said with a hint of melancholy.
The girl raised her face, looking at him with tenderness and seriousness.
"You don't take yourself seriously, Alphard. I've known you since we were kids, and I know you are much more than this mask of jocularity you like to wear. What do you gain by making Uncle Sirius and the whole family see you as an irresponsible person who doesn't care about our name?"
The dark-haired young man stood up, irritated, running his fingers through his thick dark hair.
"Uncle Sirius! The world doesn't revolve around that old man. I don't understand why it's so important for you to please him. Your father was right. Uncle Phineas made the right choice by abandoning this cursed family!"
"Don't say that!" Marge shouted, standing up immediately. "Never say that again! Since when is being killed by the same Muggles he defended and abandoning me the right choice?"
Alphard looked at the small girl standing in front of him, eyes welling up, pressing her nails into her palms. Marguerith always appeared to be an unshakable fortress, so often he forgot how fragile she could sometimes be.
"I'm sorry, Marge," he said, taking her hands in his. "I didn't mean to hurt you... I shouldn't have mentioned your father..."
He noticed that she let out a low sob, making him remember the first time he saw Marge cry. It was the day she found out about Phineas Black's death.
"Uncle Phineas didn't abandon you... And I won't abandon you..."
Marguerith remained silent, but the sobs ceased. The silence began to make Alphard uncomfortable.
"Although I still don't understand such consideration from you for our uncle..." he said.
"You said it yourself, Alphard, he is our uncle," replied the girl, freeing herself from him. "He took in my sister and me when we needed it most. I don't know what we would have done without him and Aunt Hesper."
The young man lowered his head. He understood Marguerith's point of view, agreed with the devotion to Hesper, but Sirius... Nothing in the universe, from everything he had witnessed in the family, could make Alphard believe in the goodwill and altruism of their uncle. The old Black always did something if he was sure he would gain something in return. That's why Alphard opted not to fit into Sirius' expectations. He didn't want to be used by him. However, Marguerith didn't seem to realize this or perhaps didn't care.
"Alright, Marge. I don't want to argue with you, especially over Sirius Black."
The girl nodded, needing Alphard to understand how important he was to her.
"I would never be mad at you because of our uncle. You are my best friend; you've been with me through the best and worst moments."
The dark-haired young man smiled, kissing his cousin's forehead, and putting one arm over her shoulders while holding Marguerith's books with the other.
"If Betelgeuse hears this, she'll be jealous," he teased.
Marge frowned seriously.
"I wish you two would get along better, it would make my life so much easier..."
"I don't hate your sister. We just don't have much in common..."
The older twin's cold demeanor bothered him greatly. Betelgeuse reminded him almost entirely of what he detested in the family. She walked through the school corridors like a queen. Nothing seemed to affect her, almost as if she were an ice maiden.
It was true that Marguerith emulated the same behaviors of her sister with most of her classmates, especially those who didn't belong to the House of Serpents. However, he knew there was a softer side to her that she hid from others. He couldn't blame her. Marge almost died of poisoning when she was little, though she barely remembered it. Her father was murdered during the war. And Marguerith watched her mother waste away slowly until she finally passed not long ago. All this made her build an almost impenetrable wall around herself, with deep wounds hard to heal. Alphard was grateful she had opened a small gap in those bricks to let him through.
"Are you ready for the big family Christmas party?" he asked, purposefully changing the subject.
"I haven't decided yet."
Gathering the whole family always brought conflicting feelings for Marguerith. On one hand, she knew that many of her cousins and uncles still saw her as the unworthy bastard of Phineas Black. On the other, she and Bete were directly under the great patriarch of the family, a privileged position she admitted to herself that she liked to flaunt. It was as if, in those moments, each of them had to swallow their wounded pride and submit to her and her sister. They were the current jewels of the Black Family's crown. To directly oppose them was also to directly oppose Sirius. No one, except Alphard in his youthful rebellious outbursts, seemed to want to lose the advantages of being in old Black's good graces. Marguerith couldn't deny that this kind of power and position was almost deliciously intoxicating.
With this thought, she allowed herself to smile. If she couldn't enjoy this fragile status at the party, at least she would have Alphard's company to cheer her up.
"We still have two months to prepare. And maybe it won't be so bad in the end," she finally replied.
"At least the elves' food will save us," Alphard agreed, laughing. "The most perfect Christmas pudding in all of Great Britain!"
Two months passed more quickly than Alphard and Marguerith had anticipated, given that they were OWL years and the professors seemed determined to fill all their free time with homework. From what Marge heard, not even Alphard, Abraham, and Bartemius managed to keep their escapades to Hogsmeade.
One moment, they were buried in dozens of books, and the next, they found themselves on the Hogwarts Express, returning to London.
The following night, everyone gathered at 12 Grimmauld Place, surrounded by nearly all their relatives: uncles, aunts, siblings, and cousins spanning at least three generations.
As always, Sirius and Hesper entered the room like a king and queen among their subjects. Betelgeuse and Marguerith arrived at the event alongside their uncles, like little princesses of that reign.
Hesper had arranged for exclusive dresses from a French modiste, something the other cousins could hardly access as quickly. The matriarch had always been dedicated to providing the best for "her girls," especially after Rosette's death.
"You look stunning," the woman said affectionately.
"Thank you, Aunt," the twins replied in unison.
Sirius merely nodded silently.
"Enjoy the party," Hesper said before beginning to circulate among the guests, arm in arm with her husband.
It didn't take long for the twins to join the other cousins. They hadn't been seen as children for some time now, and even the married women had accepted them into their circle. Betelgeuse started talking about the dress she had received as a gift, highlighting the qualities of the piece and the modiste. The others compared their own outfits and exchanged fashion tips. Despite her enormous effort, it was noticeable that Walburga Black resented not being the center of attention, though the other cousins pretended not to notice her discomfort.
Marguerith, on the other hand, was not in the mood to discuss dresses and fashion that evening. She still felt tired from her studies and the train journey. The green-eyed girl detached herself from the conversation, observing the guests instead. Her attention involuntarily focused on a couple politely conversing with the hostess. It was the daughter of her uncles Belvina and Hebert, along with her husband. Beside the man stood a little girl. He held the girl's hand protectively and affectionately. His wife had her arm linked with his. An involuntary wave of melancholy washed over Marguerith.
Across the room, Alphard listened, bored, to his cousin and brother-in-law, Orion, talking about the Granian horse he was going to receive as a birthday present from his parents. Alphard let his eyes wander around the room, searching for Marguerith or Bartemius, who had also come to the party with his parents and sisters. Perhaps talking to one of them could save the night from complete monotony.
Alphard spotted Marguerith first and noticed that she seemed as miserable as he did. Maybe he could make the night more interesting for both of them. Taking advantage of the fact that the other cousins were engaged in conversation and Marguerith had moved slightly away from them, Alphard approached her stealthily, gently taking her hand. She turned to him, and he put a finger to his lips, asking her to stay quiet.
With their fingers intertwined, they left the murmur of the party behind, walking through the familiar corridors of the mansion until they reached the immense tapestry that displayed almost all the living Blacks and many of their ancestors.
"What are we doing here, Alphie?" Marguerith asked, half-curious, half-amused.
"Bringing a bit of mystery and wonder to our evening. The party seemed to be boring us both to death."
The Slytherin thought to herself that boredom wasn't the best word to describe what she felt: a mixture of longing for what she had had and what she wished to have. However, she preferred to keep those feelings to herself.
"And what's so spectacular about this tapestry that we've seen hundreds of times?" Marguerith crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow, intrigued.
Alphard gave a sly half-smile. Despite her proud and serious demeanor, and her well-mannered lady-like ways, he knew his cousin had a penchant for stories with a macabre twist. She even had a vast collection of old Penny Dreadfuls, series of cheap books produced in the 19th century about the exploits of detectives, criminals, or supernatural entities.
"I'll give you an early Christmas present," he said, visibly excited. "The true story of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black!"
"Have you been drinking?" Marge asked, amused.
"Not tonight," he replied, with a playful wink. "I found a lost book in my house's library. Very old and enchanted. Though it looks thin, it has many pages inside. And it tells the story of our family from the first Blacks until the late 19th century. Some of them are on the tapestry; others I had never heard of. I wanted to give it to you as a present, but Mr. Pollux doesn't want to deplete our collection."
Alphard rolled his eyes. Practically no one besides him appreciated the house's library. It was pure stinginess that his father had denied his request.
"So, please, madam, have a seat so I can begin our show."
Marguerith nodded, settling onto the carpet, knees bent, and head resting on them.
"The first part of our story is called: The Saga of the Lady of Aquila and the Great Black Dog. Though I prefer to call it: How Our Family Was Cursed and Born Bathed in Blood...
Centuries ago, before the Four Founders established Hogwarts, there were two families with strong bonds of friendship and neighboring fiefdoms. The Blacks and the Atwoods.
The Blacks had two sons, Arcturus, the heir, and Altair. The Atwoods had a daughter, Hildegard, who was promised from childhood to Arcturus.
One day, when Hilde had barely completed her tenth spring, she was found by her betrothed, Arcturus, in the forest, alongside the corpses of her parents, cruelly murdered.
She was taken in by her future in-laws and raised by them alongside her brother-in-law, Altair. Meanwhile, Arcturus went on the Wizarding Crusades against the Eastern wizards.
Altair and Hilde shared a brotherly friendship, though both were in love with each other. Hilde denied the feeling out of respect for her deceased parents' wishes and her in-laws' desires for her to marry Arcturus. Altair, however, disliked his brother, not just because of Hilde, but because he believed there was something sinister beneath Arcturus' good boy facade.
After years, away on the Crusades, Arcturus finally returned to marry his fiancée.
Though Altair confessed his love for Hilde and kissed her, she rejected him. The young man decided to leave for a Monastic Alchemist Refuge. Thus, the marriage between Hildegard and Arcturus took place.
The couple moved to the fiefdom of Hilde's deceased parents. Their life seemed tranquil for some time. A large black dog appeared in the forest of the Aquila fiefdom when Hilde went for a walk. The dog proved to be tame and became a guardian and companion to Hildegard during Arcturus' increasingly frequent travels.
The dog mysteriously disappeared shortly after Arcturus and Hildegard received a letter saying his father was ill.
One night, a stranger appeared to meet with Arcturus, and Hilde inadvertently overheard their conversation. She discovered that her husband had planned to kill his father to inherit the fiefdom and that he was also the mastermind behind the attack that killed her parents, fearing that her mother might bear a male heir and he wouldn't inherit her fiefdom either.
Hilde waited for Arcturus to travel before attempting to flee to her in-laws' house, where she would seek help and reveal the truth. It was winter. She set out but was caught in a snowstorm and collapsed before reaching her destination. Before losing consciousness, she saw her protector, the black dog, and discovered that he had always been Altair, who was an Animagus. He took Hilde to the Monastic Alchemist Refuge, where she was well cared for.
Once recovered, she and Altair shared everything they knew with each other. The young man – as a dog – vanished to – as a person – save his father. However, he had no evidence against his older brother.
Apparently concerned for his wife, Arcturus arrived at the Monastic Alchemist Refuge, having heard rumors that she was there. However, he was unaware that Hilde and Altair had discovered the truth about him. Arcturus demanded his wife back, according to his rights. Hilde, however, accused him of his crimes and requested a duel based on the principle of "vindicta" or "vendetta." In the Middle Ages, an insult or injury was not considered resolved until it was avenged.
They dueled fiercely, and Arcturus nearly killed his wife, but Altair intervened, using the same principle in the name of his father and Arcturus, who almost died because of the villain. However, Hilde recovered and delivered the final blow, killing Arcturus and avenging her parents.
It could have been a happy ending for Hildegard and Altair, who married afterward. But the shadow of Arcturus' deeds fell upon them and upon all of us.
During the Crusades, Arcturus had razed a village, sparing no man, woman, or child. In that village was a powerful witch who had tried to stop Black's army for weeks before being subdued and tortured for three days and nights. With her dying breath, she cursed all who bore the name of Arcturus and shared a fraction of his blood.
Hildegard had several children. Though the eldest came from Arcturus' seed, he was loved as if he were Altair's son.
This did not prevent the curse from affecting him and his siblings for the simple fact that they were all Blacks...
Even Altair did not reach old age, dying in the arms of his beloved Hildegard.
The Curse would be passed down from generation to generation... Until there was no one left bearing the name Black.
For thirty long minutes, Alphard continued to describe various other events related to that terrible secret. The story of betrayals, murders, death, and sin that affected almost all the names printed on the family tree.
By the end of the tale, Marguerith seemed genuinely shocked by what she had just heard. She stood up and approached the tapestry, resting her fingers on the place where her father's image had been burned, preventing her and her sister's names from being part of the tapestry. Everything Alphard had said made sense. Perhaps Phineas' premature death was a result of that dreadful curse.
"Marge?" Alphard asked, worried. It seemed to him that his story had had the opposite effect of what he had intended.
"Do you believe in what you just told me?" she asked, with a seriousness that was almost cold.
Alphard pulled her by the shoulders, making Marguerith sit beside him on the carpet. His gaze fixed on the young woman's green orbs. It was like looking into a tunnel, with a faint light at the end. Mysterious, but inviting. He felt slightly disconcerted.
"If I believed, I wouldn't have told you this. I just wanted to share with you a story that, despite seeming foolish in its superstitions, was exciting and engaging."
Marge pondered that. It was a powerful story, but just a family legend. Every wizarding family had theirs.
"Let's hope you're right," she reflected finally.
Alphard nodded, once again placing his hand over hers, which rested on the floor. Marguerith lowered her eyes. Watching their intertwined fingers, she felt the protective and affectionate touch of her cousin. In that moment, Marge knew she was home. And that Alphard would never let anything bad happen to her.