The evening began as a pleasant affair, filled with the hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the warm glow of candlelight reflecting off polished wood. Laughter wove through the rich scents of roasted duck and spiced wine, an effortless symphony of sophistication and camaraderie.

Orion Black, comfortably seated at the head of the table, was in the midst of an animated discussion with Abraxas Malfoy about the finer points of magical creature care when the conversation took a curious turn.

"Orion," Abraxas mused, swirling his wine with idle interest. "How did you come to rely on service dogs? And why choose such a... distinctive breed?"

A knowing smile tugged at Orion's lips. "Ah, now that's a tale worth telling." He leaned back slightly, letting the anticipation build. "You see, Cainis and Sea weren't meant to be service dogs at all."

That earned a flicker of intrigue from the room.

"They weren't?" Abraxas pressed.

Orion chuckled, the kind of laugh that hinted at a story both unexpected and, no doubt, ridiculous. "No. Their story begins with them sitting pitifully outside my manor gates during a particularly chaotic period of renovations. I was already cursing the universe when I looked outside and saw two scruffy, wide-eyed puppies staring at me like I owed them rent."

A ripple of laughter followed, but Sirius, ever quick, smirked. "They probably did think you owed them something—your sanity, at the very least."

"You're not wrong," Orion admitted. "Their former owner abandoned them for being 'unsuitable' as farm dogs. Apparently, intelligence, spirit, and a healthy dose of stubbornness aren't ideal for herding sheep."

Regulus quirked an eyebrow. "Sounds like they were better suited to the Black family instead."

Orion grinned. "Exactly. I thought I'd find them homes, but instead, they made themselves indispensable—just not in the way I expected."

Dorea leaned in, clearly invested. "How did they go from mischief-makers to service dogs?"

Orion's expression softened. "At first? Chaos incarnate—chewing shoes, stealing food, chasing anything that moved. But underneath all that trouble, they were… different. Sharp. Intuitive. When my health began to decline—my hearing, the migraines, and, occasionally, the seizures—they started responding in ways I couldn't ignore."

Charlus frowned slightly. "Responding how?"

"Sea would pace, bark, or nudge me insistently before a migraine hit," Orion explained. "Cainis, on the other hand, would plant himself at my feet during dizzy spells, grounding me. It wasn't training—it was instinct. That's when I realized they had potential beyond what I'd imagined."

Abraxas, ever skeptical, asked, "And you trained them yourself?"

Orion snorted. "Merlin, no. I may have many talents, but wrangling two unruly Kangals into service dogs isn't one of them. I hired a specialist who saw their potential and refined it. It wasn't easy—this breed isn't exactly known for obedience—but their loyalty made them naturals."

Sirius grinned, nudging Regulus. "I've seen them work. It's like magic."

Regulus nodded. "They've saved him more times than I can count."

Orion's gaze flicked to the dogs, resting peacefully by his side. "They've become more than service dogs. They're my partners. My family."

Abraxas leaned back, clearly impressed. "A testament to them—and to you—for recognizing what others didn't."

Cainis let out a quiet woof, as if to punctuate Orion's words, while Sea thumped his tail, basking in the attention.

Just as the conversation drifted back to lighter topics, Sea's ears twitched. His posture shifted from relaxed to alert. The change was subtle, but undeniable.

At first, Orion barely noticed. But then, Sea pressed his nose insistently against Orion's arm.

The room stilled. The laughter, the clinking of glasses—all of it faded as the dog's unusual behavior drew attention.

Orion frowned. "What's gotten into you, boy?"

Sea whined softly, then tugged at Orion's sleeve with unexpected strength.

Sirius's sharp gaze flicked between his father and the dog, his chest tightening. "Dad?"

Regulus, ever watchful, leaned forward. "Something's wrong."

Before Orion could brush off the concern, he felt it—the telltale tightening of his muscles, the creeping haze in his vision. His stomach dropped. Not here. Not now.

Sea tugged harder.

Realization dawned like a curse.

Damn it.

The moment Orion swayed, Walburga Black was on her feet, her icy composure cracking. "Orion?"

Dorea's sharp eyes darted to Sea, who had positioned himself across Orion's chest, grounding him. "It's a seizure," she stated. "James, get the med bag. Now."

James shot up so fast his chair nearly toppled. Lucius Malfoy—who preferred problems he could hex—hovered uncertainly before helping clear the space around Orion.

Orion's breaths grew shallow as he clutched at Sea's fur. The world blurred, voices melting into a distant hum. But through it all, Sea stayed firm, his presence a lifeline.

Sirius dropped to his knees beside his father, hands trembling. "It's okay, Dad. Sea's got you. We've got you." His voice cracked, but he held firm.

James returned, thrusting the med bag into Dorea's hands. She worked with practiced efficiency, her voice steady. "Breathe, Orion. Just breathe."

The tension in the room was suffocating. Even Abraxas looked rattled. Walburga, rarely one for displays of emotion, knelt beside her husband, brushing her hand against his shoulder. "You're doing fine."

Gradually, the storm passed. Orion's muscles loosened, his breathing steadied, and the fog lifted.

Sea, sensing the shift, licked Orion's cheek before resting his head on his lap. Cainis, ever the dramatic one, gave a short, satisfied woof—because, of course, he had to have the last word.

Orion exhaled a shaky laugh. "I'm alright. Really."

Walburga's glare was sharp, but her relief softened it. "You scared us."

Sirius let out a breathy laugh. "You scared us? Sea nearly gave me a heart attack with his dramatics."

Regulus smirked. "He's the true star of the night. We should toast to him."

The tension cracked, laughter filtering through once more. Orion, exhausted but grateful, let his fingers run through Sea's fur.

Abraxas, swirling his wine thoughtfully, murmured, "Remarkable animal."

Orion's lips quirked. "More than remarkable. He's family."