Chapter Nine.

With a growl that sounded more animal than man, Sirius Black paced the chamber. Behind him, he only listened with half an ear as the Blackwoods discussed the potential fallout of their meeting with the Ministry party. He shot another dark glare towards Lord Blackwood, who looked far too pleased with himself. Sirius could not help the unease that ran through him as he looked upon the powerful wizard, the animalistic side of him that was his animagus form, felt on edge about the man. The instincts that he had lost himself within during his stay in Azkaban were telling him to run and not to return until the wolf had gone away.

It was hard not to be disturbed by the apparent lack of concern that the man showed for the Ministry or the fact that he had trounced the Auror guard and made a fool of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Maybe the Black Madness had found fresh and fertile soil in his distant kin, it would certainly explain some of the man's actions of late.

He just had to hope the man knew what he was doing, the thin hope of him earning freedom may have just run terrified from the room. He knew it would destroy him utterly if they failed, the slim hope of finally being free after spending a decade rotting away in Azkaban had been at the forefront of his mind ever since he had been thrown naked at the Lord Blackwood's feet only days ago.

How? How, by Morgana's perky tits, had things gone so wrong. He knew it had been a slim chance, but he had done as Lord Blackwood had ordered him to and waited. Waited for the very opportunity that now seemed to have slipped away, all because the man's temper had gotten the better of him.

"…it seems you were right about Amelia. I never thought she would have thrown away the position her family had held for so long for nothing more than a fancy title."

The headmaster's voice caught his attention then, and Sirius finally allowed himself to pay heed to what was being discussed.

"I never would have believed it myself, it seems Lucius was right about her loyalty to the Ministry. I was cautious to believe anything that man suggested, yet seeing her today proved there was at least some truth in Malfoy's words."

Amerytha nodded at her father's words as the Headmaster pulled forth several small rolls of parchment from his belt, he quickly took pen and ink from a small tray upon the table and began writing.

"It seems as if both my own and Narcissa's connections were right about the woman, if they are to be believed it seems as if she has become entangled with someone powerful enough to back her running for Minister. Let us hope today has shown her that rash actions have consequences."

Sirius could only stare in bafflement as he watched them talk about what had transpired as if they had not threatened and humiliated the most senior officials of Magical Britain's government.

It was then that everything clicked into place. They had never intended for their meeting to go any other way, and the dwarves had certainly made their animosity clear before the Minister and his party had even reached the heart of the hold. Merlin's balls, he had nearly soiled himself when he heard the beating of thousands of boots stomping in unison. The very cavern of the Undercity had seemed to fill with the booming beat, and he had watched as more than one Dwarf walking the street stopped and looked to the cavern's ceiling as if seeing more than what his own eyes could see.

He could not stop the sudden anger that filled him as he looked upon these people, they had merely used him as an incentive to spark a reaction out of the Ministry.

"You used me! You had no intention of securing my freedom from them, did you?! You merely sought to use me like some pawn in your twisted game!"

His voice had taken on a harshness that had been honed in the depths of Azkaban, and with it came the familiar blinding rage that he had harboured for so many years.

He could smell the bitter tang of ozone in the air as his skin prickled with angry blue sparks. Even without a wand, his rage bubbled and churned away within him such that his Magic rose up like a thundercloud ready to unleash its fury.

An angry growl greeted his words as Belor jumped from his throne-like chair. "Watch yer tone Manling."

To both their surprise Denevan's strong voice cut through the sudden tension that filled the room "No Belor, Sirius is right. I did use him, without thought or consideration and for that I apologise."

Sirius' anger evaporated as he watched the legendary figure of Denevan Blackwood bow his head in apology.

The man stepped towards him and placed a sympathetic hand upon his shoulder. "You are right to be angry, I should have included you in my plans for the Ministry. However, the matter of your freedom is a problem that I had already begun to lay the foundations for."

Sirius blinked at the man in confusion, the gentle kindness that filled the man's words made him feel uncomfortable in a way that nothing else did. His years spent rotting in Azkaban had made him inured to the violence that men can inflict on each other, but a kind word or gentle touch threatened to break him every time.

"I was not lying when I told the Ministry that I would call a moot of the Houses, in truth, I will need your help in doing so. You will be able to make your case before the Lords of the Great Houses and I promise you that you will have your freedom."

Sirius stared at the man who had turned misty through the brimming tears he refused to let fall. "How? Now that the Ministry knows of my presence here they will stop at nothing to get my back into a cell or given to the Dementors, they sure as hell won't let me walk through their front door."

Denevan smiled then, a true ear-to-ear smile that he had often seen on the faces of his fellow Marauders when they had successfully pulled off a prank back in their younger years.

"The answer to that is rather simple, we do not have to get you into the Ministry if we are not going to the Ministry."

Sirius blinked at the man in confusion. "You told the Minister that you were going to call a Wizengamot, ever since the founding of the Ministry they have been held within the Wizengamot chamber. I know my father was always eager to attend meetings in grandfather's stead when the old man had business elsewhere."

Denevan shook his head sadly at that, "Arcturus often complained that your father had always been too eager to play the Game of Houses, from all reports Orion was far too eager to curry favour with the prominent families and it took decades for Arcturus to fix his missteps. The man often lamented your father as 'another blemish on my ancient House.'"

Sirius snorted at that, his grandfather had not been shy in reminding them of what he saw as the failings of his children and later grandchildren. The man had been a formidable figure when he had been younger, his own father had been a proud man, but a word from Arcturus Black could shatter Orion Black's spirit like nothing else.

"This is why James and I stayed as far away from all the politicking as we could. During the War, Hogwarts was like a miniature Wizengamot. More than once I had been cornered by one heir or ally of a Great House into trying to gain my grandfather's favour."

Belor snorted at his words and the dwarf shared a knowing look with Denevan. "From what Cal says, it's still the same. Although, it seems as if they're chasing him for a chance to learn from Den."

This time it was Sirius who snorted, it seemed as if nothing had changed in the world in the time that he had spent rotting in Azkaban and with that disheartening thought he focused back on the topic at hand.

"If you have no intention of calling a meeting of the Wizengamot, then how do you propose to have a meeting of the Wizengamot?"

Denevan's smile did not fade as he stared down at Sirius, if anything it grew wider still.

"I told the Minister I was calling a meeting of the Houses, as many that will answer the summons. How much of our history do you recall? Specifically of the days before the Ministry?"

Sirius blinked at the man in confusion as his mind registered the questions. "Uhh…not much beyond our lands being governed by the Wizard's Council…."

Sirius trailed off as his mind finally caught on to what the ancient wizard had been planning.

"I thought the Council was dissolved?" Sirius asked in alarm. The Wizard's Council had been the precursor to the Wizengamot, and little had changed in the centuries since it had governed only the Ministry and its bureaucracy had sunk its claws into the authority once wielded by the Great Houses. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach as he looked at the man.

"The Council was never officially disbanded. When Ulick, The Arselick, sought to give in to the ICW and its insistence on forming the Ministries of Magic, we ensured that the Council remained intact and its members merely assumed the same role within the newly formed Wizengamot. By ancient edict the rule of our people lies solely with the Council and its Chief Councilor, it was one of the last acts of the monarchy. They gave the right to rule in perpetuity to the Wizard's Council and its Chief as head of state."

Sirius tried to wrap his head around this new piece of information, the potential political fallout could be devastating. "But the Ministry governs now, they-"

"No. The Wizengamot governs over the British Isles, and the Houses, especially the oldest, rule the Wizengamot. It is why the Ministry has tried to saddle them with so much bureaucracy, they seek to usurp power away from the Houses and give to any fool who calls themselves Minister."

Denevan turned Sirius towards him and the escaped convict could do nothing but stare into the man's eyes as Lord Blackwood spoke, the power and confidence that the wizard exuded meant he could not look away even if he wanted to.

"I give you my word. You will be free."

Sirius could do nothing but blink back the sudden sting of tears as Denevan pulled back suddenly, his gaze hardening as he stared at the great doors of the chamber as a commotion could be heard outside.

The streets of the city were uncomfortably busy as Harwyn made his way from one shadow to the next, he had stuck to the back alleys as much as he could but either by design or just sheer bad luck they had only run so far into the heart of the underground city.

The steady march of heavy boots had him ducking behind a wagon loaded with large fungi, the smell of damp soil and the softer, sweeter smell of the large blue mushrooms filled his nose as he waited for the armoured patrol to pass. He counted at least half a dozen dwarves, each clad in a mail shirt with a thick leather hauberk embossed with the anvil and lightning bolt of the Stormanvil Clan. He knew he would fare poorly if it came to a confrontation, the warriors of the dwarven people were formidable by themselves and half a dozen would make mincemeat of him. He had learned that the hard way following the war, the Ministry in its wisdom had decided that an eye had to be kept on the non-human races lest they rise up in defiance following the Dark Lord's defeat. In their ignorance, some fool of an official had decided that quarantining the dwarves into their quarter of the Alley would put an end to any uprising they may be planning, unfortunately, as the DMLE was short-staffed in the wake of the war the Aurors had been assigned to aid the general law enforcement. He had been on one of the patrols assigned to their quarter when they had sparked off a riot that had spread like wildfire, half of Knockturn Alley had spilt out of their warren and it had ended up putting more than one of his former colleagues in St Mungo's. He could still recall old Simmons, an Auror that had lost his leg during the war being hoisted into the air by one angry dwarf. It was as if the man had weighed nothing to the monstrously strong dwarf, before said dwarf had taken both the Auror and his peg leg and used both as cudgels to batter his compatriots. It had not taken long for the Ministry to backpedal on its position after a horde of angry dwarves armed to the teeth had stormed the Ministry, since that day no member of the DMLE had been near the dwarves or their district. If rumour is to be believed Simmon's peg leg is still displayed as a trophy in one of the numerous taverns there.

As the last heavy thump of the patrol's footfalls faded away he slipped from the shadows of his hiding spot, he wasted no time in hurrying across the wide avenue as he darted into the shadows caused by a balcony on a large manse. If the situation had been different, he would have taken the time to marvel at the ornate reliefs carved into the stone walls of the manse. Instead, he focused upon the top of the guarding wall that he could see only a short distance away, he could try for the main throughway but he knew that there was another score of dwarves stationed there. He had passed under their glaring eyes twice already and he dared not risk their scrutiny now. If he could make it to the tall manse he could see only a few streets away, then he would be able to climb to its peaked roof with ease and from there he could use a few simple spells to see him over the wall. He just had to hope that his luck remained, it would not be long before the Ministry party realised that he was no longer with them, if they had not already and when they raised the alarm he knew the entire city would be searching for him.

Knowing his father was depending upon his success he wasted no more time, with a path set in his mind he slipped from shadow to shadow once more. In a matter of minutes, he was at the walls that surrounded the ornate grounds of the manse he had spied and after a last glance about to make sure he was not about to be spotted by any eagle-eyed dwarves on their daily walks he scaled the black iron railing. He cursed to himself as his feet crunched into fine white gravel, but even more so when he noted a fine coating of pale dust had clung to his boots. He cursed under his breath, his collections of spells to evade detection and subtle shift focus away from him would do him little good if he was coated in a pale white dust that drew the eye.

With a grimace, he cast a featherlight charm upon himself and another swept him clean of the offending residue, he hated the necessary use of magic as even the slightest use of magic could increase his chance of being detected the closer he came to his target. However, it would allow him to avoid making too much noise as he made his way across the gravel-strewn grounds and as long as he could maintain the featherlight charm on top of the half dozen spells he was already maintaining it would make his next challenge all the easier.

With only the barest whisper of crunching stone beneath his feet, he quickly hurried across the garden until he was shrouded in the shadows cast by the house. With a cursory glance to ensure he was not being watched he bent his legs and propelled himself upwards.

He floundered for a moment as a heartbeat of weightlessness held him aloft before he felt the gentle tug of gravity pulling him groundwards once more, with a mad scrabble he managed to dig his fingers into the decorative recesses that surrounded a window lintel on the second floor and braced his feet upon the sill. He shot a glance downward and noted that he had cleared nearly fifteen feet in a single leap, with a grin he launched himself upwards once more, managing to snag a handhold on the third-floor windows before he quickly sent himself upwards again to the peaked roof of the manse.

He sent a silent thank you to Alastor Moody for that trick, his old mentor had taught him the benefit of utilising simple spells to make the job easier. Hells, the man even used it to help him walk, it was far easier for him to shuffle about on his peg leg when he did not have the pull of gravity hindering him.

He could feel the strain of holding onto his spells beginning to build within his mind, and he knew that if he lived to see the dawn he would have one hell of a headache. In normal situations he could maintain a dozen spells with ease, however, he had been holding his spells of concealment for nearly an hour already and he knew he would need to reach the great monolith at the heart of the city soon or he ran the risk of the strain growing too much for his mind to handle.

Focusing his mind on the task at hand he eyed the distance between the enclosing wall that stood between him and the great pillar. He roughly guessed that a span of nearly thirty feet stood between him and the lip of the wall, with his weight charmed as it was he knew it was easily possible to leap across he just had to hope that once he reached the top of the wall he was able to avoid any more patrols that might be making their route behind its crenulations.

He knew that once he reached the top any chance he had of turning back would be gone, unsurprisingly he found the thought of turning back never once entering his mind. The potential dangers of the task ahead of him thrilled him in a way that he had been sorely lacking, it was something that he had missed ever since he had been assigned to the Minister's guard detail. He had dragged himself through the horrors of the first war by the skills and abilities he had developed in the crucible of battle, they had been honed in the hunt for the Dark Lord's followers after he had fallen only to be wasted spent guarding one fool after another when his father had got him assigned to the Ministerial guard.

With that thought in mind, he ran. He pushed his legs as hard and as fast as they could go as sprinted towards the edge of the peaked roof and threw himself into the open divide. He sailed into the open air, his featherlight charm carrying his momentum upwards and away from the safety of the manse's roof. It seemed as if Lady Luck was with him as his boots just cleared the crenulated wall, although he cursed the fickle mistress as he sailed clear over the other side and out across the open ground before the great pillar of stone at the heart of the city.

In desperation, he drastically reduced the flow of Magic to his spells and his gentle glide became a rapid descent towards the hard stones of what Harwyn realised was a killing ground.

Any eagled-eyed watchers in the great monolith could look out across the great expanse of open ground and spot any would-be attackers, or recently in his case former Aurors who were sneaking into the home of their Lord uninvited. He cursed his luck as the heels of his boots touched down upon the carved floor of the open expanse, despite his family's dealings with the dwarves and his own ventures into several of their holdings there was something about this place that spoke of an ancient power. It hung in the air like a heady fog that seemed to uplift the dwarven people in a way that he felt he could not know. In all his years he had never seen the bearded folk act as they did now, they seemed to be filled with a renewed sense of purpose. It was as if something had begun to spark new heart into a people that had been beaten time and time again, and it centred about the ruling family. It was something that he knew needed to be brought to the attention of his father, but for now, he had a task to do and he desperately sought a way to avoid the eyes of any eager guard.

The crackle of the fire was a soothing sound to Callian's troubled mind, he tried to lose himself in the dancing flames but whatever measure of peace he found quickly slipped away as his mind once more turned to what he had witnessed not even an hour ago.

He had pieced together what had happened to the Auror, Thomson, he thought Lady Bones had called him. He had watched as the man's very soul and Magic had been stolen away, locked behind the foul power of the cursed Binder. He had never seen or heard of anything like the serpentine chain in all his life. What hellish mind had devised the enchantments upon the Binder had somehow found a way of making their insidious tool completely undetectable to his arcane senses, how such a thing could be done he could not even begin to fathom. Merlin's balls, he had not even known such a thing was possible, he had seen skilled Magi hide their Spellweaves beneath the ambient magic of the world but this was something else entirely.

The Binder had been like a void in the world, ever hungry and consuming every scrap of Magic that it came into contact with. How the hells Bones managed to get the damn thing past his grandfather's purification spells he could only guess, maybe it was the effect of the Binder itself. Even the thought of it left a foul taste in his mouth and he felt an ache within his heart for the Auror, the man would be in constant, agonising pain as the very Magic within him was consumed. A shudder ran through him as a macabre thought entered his mind, if the foul thing remained upon the Auror long enough then would it consume even the spark of Magic that gave him life? The thought weighed heavily upon him, he had taken a life only mere days ago because the Dark Lord had been consuming that very spark within a boy only a few years older than himself. He had ended Marcus Flint's suffering after he had seen for himself the dwindling, tortured ember of light and life being used to fuel Lord Voldemort's possession of the boy.

A pained sneer twisted his features as he thought upon the woman who had brought the foul thing into his home, he had seen the contempt that his grandfather and the Headmaster had worn upon their faces as they had looked down upon her and he knew their feelings to be valid. Both she and the Ministry had sought to use the Binder on Sirius Black, and while he had no love for the man, the thought of that fate befalling him left him feeling hollow. That was not a fate that anyone deserved.

With his mind constantly plagued by thoughts far darker than any twelve-year-old should bear, he decided that he would get no peace sitting alone and mulling things over in his mind. With a grunt he heaved himself to his feet, he let his feet carry him towards the door of his chambers as he made a conscious effort to allow the Void of Thought to swallow his mind.

He eventually felt the blissful blanket of nothingness swamp his mind and in that tranquil emptiness he revelled, it had taken him far longer than he would have liked but now that he had achieved the correct state of mind he set out with renewed purpose.

He had no desire to sit and wallow in dark thoughts when there were far more productive things that he could be doing. Some may claim that he was willfully ignoring his concerns and growing fears but at that moment he simply wanted to be away from this place, he idly mused that for the first time in his life, the safety of his father's halls did not bring him comfort.

He knew his friends had retreated to their own guest chambers, some of them with more reluctance than he would have thought. It seemed that Hermione's parents were still arguing over her returning to Hogwarts, something his bushy-haired friend's opinion was neither wanted nor asked for. Callian could tell that she was terrified that her parents would take her away from the only friends that she had known, that they would take her away from the wonder, mystery and knowledge that the ancient castle offered her.

For all their fears guiding their actions, he could not help but feel a sense of anticipation as they pushed her towards finally swearing her Oath of Fealty to him and his House. He had tried not to push the matter with either Hermione or Adria, he knew that Adria was willing and in truth, the only reason that he had not broached the subject further with her was because he was waiting for Hermione to make up her mind.

Eventually, he let the thoughts of his friends fade away into the Void, his feet carried aimlessly on as he walked with no true destination in mind. Down familiar corridors and through vast halls he paid little heed to where he was going as he worked his way steadily down from the heights of The Pillar, eventually, he found himself passing through the stone doors of the entryway. The towering height of the stone doors normally filled him with a sense of pride, few things had the strength to move the formidable monolithic stones. Each weighed several tonnes and were cut from enduring sarsen stone, to further augment them his father's greatest Runesmiths had worked their powerful magic into the stones making them even more formidable to any would-be attackers that managed to breach this far into the city.

It was only by the cunning engineering of his father's people that they were able to open and close the entryway into the towering heart of Kar Zurant.

He barely noticed the friendly greetings of the guards at their posts, as he made his way out into the open ground before The Pillar. In the Void that surrounded his mind, he began to become aware of a growing presence. Instinctively he began to drown his mind deeper into the emptiness, just as he had done only a few days prior when he had felt Elsbeth Moore attempt to breach his defences. Only now, the deeper he lost himself the closer he seemed to come to the presence.

A sudden burst of heat and pain flashed through his mind, and he suddenly was back to reality as the Void of Thought fled him. He realised his hand had unconsciously risen to clutch at the amulet about his neck, and with a pained gasp released it as he registered the sudden stinging pain in his hand. He looked down to see the raw and bleeding skin of his palm as the open eye within a mountain peak stared back at him. He became aware of the soft tread of footsteps growing closer as he felt a sudden surge of warning and encouragement from the amulet out his neck and more worryingly the brand upon his palm.

His head snapped up to stare at the blurry outline of a man only a few feet from him with a wand in hand and Callian reacted on without hesitation. Spellweaves came to him instinctively as he wove a protective shield about himself with such power that it became visible to the naked eye, several bolts of pure arcane force shot from his fingertips as this stranger raised his wand towards him.

To his dismay, the blurred figure used his wand to catch the arcane bolts with practised ease, before a sharp flick disbursed the gathered magic in a scattering of motes of light. Callian had to give them credit for the swift reflexes but was already preparing his next Weave when he watched the man's form stabilise as he sensed the sudden release of whatever spells he had been holding. Callian hesitated, it went against everything that he had been taught and he could almost hear Ironmane's voice screaming at him to end the threat. Yet something was telling him that the man was not there to cause him harm, as he watched the man's hand rise in surrender, his fingers loosely holding his wand with its tip, pointed towards the ground.

Callian vaguely recognised the man as one of the Aurors who had not made a fool of themselves during the disastrous meeting with the Minister and his party, he felt his blood run cold at the thought of what this man had been sent to do. The chiming of the midday bell ringing through the hold had the Aurors' eyes darting nervously towards the towering heights of the Pillar, his grandfather's warning had been clear, the man's life was forfeit now that he had remained within the bounds of his family's lands. He knew that his grandfather would show no mercy, he could not as it would invite others to see weakness where there was none and the possibility of taking advantage of that weakness in the endless undermining of each other on the social ladder that was the hierarchy of the Houses.

"Peace, young Lord. I mean you no harm, I come only with a message for your grandfather."

Callian stared at the man in bemusement, he could sense no lie in the man's words, yet, he did not trust a word of this stranger. Even more so considering the debacle that had revealed the Aurors and their foolish leaders could not be trusted. His skin crawled at the thought, they had sought to put their men within reach of him and his friends and family. Lady Bones had claimed to offer the best and brightest among her men to stand as a shield against the threat of a madman that her own office had wrongfully imprisoned. To stand against the unimaginable power of the Dark Lord, that he had already made a mockery of her men.

As if sensing his thoughts, Callian watched as the man slowly brought the hand holding his wand down as he held it out in Callian's direction. Not wasting the opportunity, Callian hastily summoned the man's wand to him. He saw the Aurors' eyes widen slightly at the casual display of Spellweaving, but Callian was taking no chances. Ironmane had drilled it into him with all the grace of a sledgehammer just how easily it could be for anyone to get close enough to you to slide sharpened steel between your ribs

"Put your hands back up and stay where you are!" The Auror halted as Callian channelled a thin stream of power into the wand making its tip grow an angry red, the man had made to step closer to Callian and he was not fool enough to take the risk.

"My Grandfather gave you the chance to leave our lands without harm, you risk your neck by coming back?!"

The Auror smiled. A tight-lipped thing that Callian found himself unable to make sense of.

"Peace, young Lord. My name is Harwyn Mckinnon, my Lord father bid me to make contact with your grandfather. My House seeks to broker an alliance with the Houses of Black and Blackwood."

Callian frowned at the man before he shot a glance to see if there were any of his father's guards around. Whatever he had been expecting it had not been that, his eyes darted back to the man as his arms slowly started to lower and his eyes narrowed at the man.

"Arms up."

The man offered him a wry look but did as he was bid.

Mckinnon was a name that was known to him. The main branch of the family had been decimated in the war with the Dark Lord, a stark reminder to all of the decimation Voldemort could bring to even the Noble Houses. His mother had participated in the battle that had engulfed the ancestral home of the Mckinnon's, according to her the Dark Lord himself had sealed them within their manor before the thing had been set alight. He had learned that the title had passed to a younger brother, who was now working tirelessly to rebuild what had been lost but had not been told much else by his mother.

"I ask only to be allowed the chance to speak to your grandfather, let him be the judge of my words. You hold my wand, I pose no threat to you or your family."

Callian knew that just because he had the man's wand did not make him any less of a threat, Lady bones had already proven that the Ministry had an artefact that could prove a threat to any Magi it would not be too much of a stretch to assume they had others.

Cocking his head at the man, Callian knew that he was in no position to make any decisions here and eventually nodded in acceptance of Mckinnon's request.

"I'll take you to my Grandfather."

Callian felt a flicker of satisfaction as the man's eyes widened in surprise as Callian brought the still glowing tip of Mckinnon's own wand to centre on him as a bolt of angry red light slammed into the man's chest.

"But not without precautions."

The man's body slumped to the floor in a crumpled heap as the light of the powerful stunning spell washed over him, not taking any chances he sent several more spells towards the Auror. He was only content once the man was held immobile by a body bind and bound in conjured ropes.

With that done, he stared back up to the towering heights of The Pillar. He had just made his way down the damn thing to escape the churning chaos that the Ministry's visit had brought to his mind, and now he was once again smack bang in the centre of it all.

With a forlorn sigh, he wove a levitation spell about the man's unconscious form and set out to make his way back up to where he knew his family still sat discussing the events of the day.

If he was lucky he may eventually get away from the madness that seemed to find him no matter where he went.