Orion Black stood at the head of the long mahogany dining table, the crystal chandelier's flickering light casting sharp, shifting shadows across the room. The gathering had been perfectly ordinary—or so everyone thought. His parents, Melanie and Arcturus, exchanged pleasantries with Lucretia, his sister. To Orion's right, Walburga sipped her wine with an air of composed elegance. Across from them, Sirius and Regulus shared a glance, one that seemed... expectant.
The room buzzed with polite conversation until an unfamiliar sound broke through the hum. Soft footsteps padded against the polished wood floors, growing louder, then stopping just outside the dining room. Heads turned. The door creaked open.
And then—it appeared.
A massive, sleek black dog sauntered in, its fur gleaming like liquid onyx under the chandelier's glow. Every eye snapped to the creature as it moved with eerie calm, its neon green and orange harness catching the light in sharp bursts. Words—stark, unavoidable—were stitched into the fabric: "Hearing Alert Working K9."
The silence was suffocating.
"What—what is that?" Abraxas Malfoy finally stammered, breaking the stillness. His pale complexion seemed to drain even further as he gestured helplessly at the dog.
Lucius, his mouth slightly agape, sat frozen. James Potter blinked hard, as if trying to confirm the scene before him wasn't some elaborate illusion. Even Walburga, poised as ever, raised a brow in surprise.
"Cainis," Sirius whispered, his grin betraying a devilish glee. Regulus's lips twitched into a smirk, their amusement only heightened by the growing shock at the table.
The dog, unbothered by the gasps and stares, made its way directly to Orion's side, where it settled with precision, its presence both commanding and oddly serene. The rigid counterbalance handle clipped to Orion's side gleamed, the polished metal catching the light, while the small sign dangling from the harness declared in bold letters, "Hearing Alert Dog."
Abraxas sputtered, his hand tightening around his wine glass. "Orion... what is the meaning of this?"
Orion, calm and composed as always, rested a hand on Cainis's head. "This is Cainis," he said simply, his tone unbothered by the stunned silence. "My service dog."
The air froze again.
"Service dog?" Lucius echoed, disbelief dripping from every syllable. His pale gray eyes darted between Orion and the dog, as though trying to make sense of this entirely un-Malfoy-like situation.
Sirius couldn't help himself. "Oh, yeah," he said, his voice tinged with playful nonchalance. "Dad's hard of hearing. Didn't you know?"
The collective intake of breath around the table was almost comical. Charlus Potter's fork clattered against his plate. Dorea raised a hand to her mouth. Even Walburga tilted her head, allowing the smallest of smiles to break through her otherwise impassive mask.
Lucius, still blinking rapidly, looked as though someone had just struck him over the head with a Bludger. "I—I had no idea," he managed, his usually controlled voice cracking slightly.
Before anyone could recover, Cainis let out a deep, commanding woof that echoed through the grand dining room like a clap of thunder. Abraxas flinched visibly, nearly spilling his drink. Even James shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his fingers twitching at the sound.
Sirius, barely containing his laughter, clutched the edge of the table for support. Regulus hid his grin behind his napkin, though his shoulders shook with silent mirth.
Cainis, unfazed, stood and moved to the head of the table, the small saddlebags attached to his harness bouncing slightly with each step. He stopped just in front of Orion and gave the saddlebags a gentle shake, a silent but clear request.
Orion leaned down, retrieving a pouch from the saddlebag and setting it on the table. Inside were small necessities: his medication, an extra hearing aid, and a few neatly folded documents. He patted Cainis's head with quiet affection before glancing back at the table.
"Well-trained, isn't he?" Orion said, his voice steady but with the faintest flicker of amusement playing at the edges.
The room remained silent, save for the faint clinking of someone's glass against the table.
Charlus, ever the first to recover, let out a small chuckle. "Well, I'll be damned. That is one impressive dog."
Sirius leaned forward, his grin widening. "The best," he quipped, his voice carrying a proud lilt.
Abraxas muttered something under his breath, his bewilderment still evident. Lucius, though silent now, looked as though his mind was still catching up to reality.
Walburga, ever the picture of composure, lifted her glass. "To Cainis," she said, her voice light with a rare, teasing edge.
"To Cainis," Sirius and Regulus echoed in unison, their laughter finally bubbling to the surface as the tension broke. Cainis gave one more satisfied woof, as if sealing the toast himself.
The dinner resumed, though the air was lighter now—though no less filled with shock.
The clinking of silverware and polite conversation had barely resumed when the heavy dining room doors creaked open again. This time, a collective hush fell over the table as an enormous, sleek white dog strode in. Its fur gleamed like freshly fallen snow, the gray of its chest giving it an almost ghostly elegance, and yet—there it was, another dog.
Sirius froze mid-bite, his eyes darting to Regulus, who stared back, equally wide-eyed. "No way," Sirius whispered, the grin creeping onto his face betraying his shock.
The dog carried itself with the poise of royalty, every movement deliberate as its neon-orange-and-green harness—yes, another harness—caught the chandelier's light. The embroidery on this one was impossible to miss: Migraine Alert on one side, Seizure Alert on the other. But it was the bold black letters on the guide handle that had everyone choking on their drinks.
"Does that…" James Potter started, his voice cracking as he leaned forward to confirm what his eyes were seeing. "Does that sign actually say what I think it says?"
Lucius Malfoy, who had been taking an elegant sip of wine, sputtered violently, nearly dropping his glass. "I—what?"
Regulus, though trying to keep a straight face, was visibly shaking with suppressed laughter. "Oh, it says exactly what you think it says," he muttered, his voice trembling.
Walburga, her face momentarily blank with disbelief, closed her eyes and sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Orion," she said flatly, her voice carrying just enough weight to warn him she was seconds away from full-blown exasperation.
Meanwhile, Sirius erupted into laughter, slapping the table as he leaned back. "Oh, this is too good," he gasped. "Sea, you absolute legend."
The white dog—Sea—trotted straight to Orion, its massive form radiating confidence. It nudged him with its nose, as if to announce its arrival with pride. And there was Orion Black, utterly serene, scratching the enormous creature behind the ears as though nothing unusual was happening.
"What… is that sign even for?" Abraxas Malfoy asked weakly, his composure nowhere to be found as he gestured wildly at the offending guide handle.
Without missing a beat, Orion replied in his usual, unbothered tone. "Keeps strangers from hovering. It's remarkably effective."
"Effective?" Lucius repeated, still pink-faced, his voice pitching higher than usual. "You're telling me you're walking around with that… on purpose?"
"It gets the point across," Orion said, calm as ever, as Sea sat obediently at his feet, its massive head swiveling toward the stunned guests.
Charlus Potter let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head in disbelief. "Orion, you sly devil."
Dorea gave her husband a pointed look but said nothing, though the amused twitch of her lips betrayed her thoughts.
Sirius was practically wheezing by now. "You've just… you've really outdone yourself, Dad. I thought Cainis was good, but this? Sea takes the prize."
The dog in question let out a single, low woof, as if agreeing wholeheartedly. Several guests flinched at the sound, their nerves clearly frayed.
James leaned over toward Sirius, his face still etched with incredulity. "Mate, does your family ever do anything remotely normal?"
"Not if we can help it," Sirius replied with a grin, his eyes sparkling with glee.
Regulus smirked, finally breaking his silence. "Normal is overrated."
At that, Walburga sighed again, though her expression softened as she glanced at her sons' unrestrained amusement. "Orion," she muttered, shaking her head with a mix of resignation and something suspiciously close to affection. "You'll be the death of me."
Orion, unbothered as ever, patted Sea on the head. "A little levity never hurt anyone," he said simply, his lips twitching into a faint smile.
Sea, having delivered the maximum dose of chaos, lay down beside Orion, its harness still glinting in the light, the bold, unapologetic sign now impossible to ignore. Guests continued to steal glances at it throughout the rest of the meal, their conversations a little less polished and a lot more incredulous.
And as Sirius and Regulus exchanged one last grin, it was clear that this dinner—like most things in the Black household—would not soon be forgotten.