3 November 1991.
Black Castle.
Location unknown.
Property under Fidelius.
UK.
7 pm.
"I call the spirit of Lucius Malfoy," said Harry/Jamie/Master of the Hallows.
Kreacher and Dobby observed the ghostly form of the last dark Malfoy. Both elves cried over the apparition. However, these tears were not of sorrow but of happiness. Their master was now the most powerful wizard in the world. Lord Arcturus was a wise wizard. Sirius was a hardened wizard and young Harry was the avenging wizard. A more fitting Triumvirate the house elves had not seen before. The elves stood witness to the souls' recount of their lives and all the good and bad deeds. No, not even in death, would Lucius and his murdering buddies get a rest. The master made them wish they were dead again. The pain of being summoned by the stone intensified as all the Hallows were now active. A Quick Notes Quill was busy recording all the deeds, places, people of magical origin or mundane origin that were killed. When Harry said, the Revolution was here, he wasn't lying. Kreacher and Dobby never felt prouder to belong to the Black family than on that day.
It was quite the surprise to see that the Pensieve could receive the ghostly forms and like a video have them display the memories of their lives and get the images of all the victims of each of the Death Eaters. Dobby got a wizarding camera and the photos of all the victims with their names attached to each of the images. As summoned souls, they could not hide anything. The faceless victims of terror now had identities. In death, no memory was a secret.
Once the confession was made, the pictures taken, the souls returned to the deep. Lord Arcturus knew his Grandson Sirius had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Harry was far more important than any other person in the world. Those monsters Albus Dumbledore and Thomas Riddle were in a power struggle, but the one who could destroy the world was just a kid. A kid with a deadly stare. He said, "Harry, do you know why we were branded as Blacks?"
After the gruelling task was finished, Harry had a splitting headache, but Kreacher had given Harry a potion to soothe the ache. Harry breathed quietly then raised his gaze to meet the old man's face and shook his head in denial, he said, "No grandfather,"
"It's an interesting story, at the beginning of our family, the Blacks were mercenaries, we took care of lunatics such as Dumbledore or Riddle. That was before the Romans put a foot in Britain, before the Saxons and Vikings, before other European bloodlines made an appearance. It was the Romans who gave us a name, and we embraced it. We named each of our children for stars and constellations, but, the one that was to be the head of house, was called the Blackheart. The Blackheart now is Sirius, but the day will come when you will take the title," said Arcturus.
"But, Grandpa, Sirius will have children, two girls and a boy, they will be the ones to inherit the Blackheart title," said Harry.
"It's probable, but I foresee you being the Blackheart and along with Sirius as your godfather, your children and Sirius creating a legacy. A Legacy far greater than the one left by me with brothers of the Blackheart and magic to aid your journey. The Hallows destroyed the Peverells, your ancestors. Only your great ancestor Ignotus kept the cloak, my advice, be wary of the power of the Hallows and keep your family close, as a Potter and as a Black, I will say no more."
"Thank you, Grandfather, I understand," said Harry.
"I understand too, Grandfather," said Sirius.
"You do?" asked Arcturus to Sirius.
"Yes, the Blacks were named because they kept staring at the Abyss, and when the Abyss looked back, they could only see themselves as keepers of that darkness," replied Sirius.
"Merlin, at last… I knew you had a brain, but it had to be bang a couple of times before it jump-started," said Harry.
Sirius shifted to Padfoot and began tussling with the kid.
Arcturus smiled, he was grateful for the chance to speak his mind. He was doubly grateful for the humour of this scene, there was hope, what a rare commodity in his family, thank the gods for their blessings.