Harry Potter (AU): Hogwarts

May 24rd, 1937

The classroom door creaked open. There was a brief pause, and then light footsteps. The door closed, the latch clicking softly.

Dorea didn’t bother to turn around. “Not now, Charly. I told you already, I’m not in the mood. And anyway, I have class in half-an-hour.” Her quill continued to scratch across the roll of parchment, moving quickly enough that, had she been using a non-enchanted quill, she would have no doubt left drops of ink all over the page.

There was a soft laugh. Not Charlus’ laugh. The voice was deeper, older. “I’m afraid that you have me confused for someone else,” a very familiar voice said from the doorway.

Dorea nearly dropped her quill in surprise, spinning around in her seat to find her transfiguration teacher, Professor Dumbledore, and not her fiance standing behind her. The man’s shoulder-length gray hair shone faintly in the dim sunlight trickling in through the room’s high windows, and Dorea’s eyes briefly flicked down to the man’s latest fashion abomination––a bright blue robe with purple trim and animated phoenixes flying across it. It wasn’t the worst thing she’d ever seen him wear, but it was up there.

“Professor Dumbledore!” she exclaimed, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was you. Do you need something? Was there an issue with my assignment?”

The man smiled jovially. “No, no, your analysis of animate to inanimate transfiguration was excellent. I haven’t finished grading everyone’s work yet so I cannot say for certain, but,” he made a show of looking around, than leaned in and loudly whispered, “I do expect that you will be receiving full marks.”

Dorea couldn’t help but smile. Dumbledore, for all her disagreements with many of his views, was both an excellent teacher and a generally genial, likable wizard. Still, she wasn’t sure why else he would have sought her out outside of class, especially since she would have seen him in just a few hours in class regardless. “That’s good to hear.” She smiled and mimed zipping her lips, “I promise none of my classmates will hear about it from me. Is there something I can help you with, Professor?”

“Ah, yes. Headmaster Dippet asked me to retrieve you. I’m afraid your homework is going to have to wait.”

The Headmaster? She didn’t think she’d done anything recently that would get her in that much trouble. She’d been in and out of his office a dozen times back in February, when the Aurors were busy interrogating anyone and everyone that Cousin Hydrys had been close with before…

Well, it hadn’t gone anywhere, anyway. Just a bunch of pointless posturing that quickly ended as soon as mentions of lawyers and Cousin Arcturus were mentioned. That had all ended months ago, however, and she hadn’t heard anything from the Ministry in a while. According to her father, the investigation into what had happened and who was at fault had stalled out. Everyone knew the answer, after all, but no one was happy to not have anyone left to blame.

Dumbledore must have seen something on her face, because he quickly continued. “You’re not being punished, or anything. Your aunt Lysandra is here. You’re being pulled out of classes for the day, some sort of family gathering I’m led to believe?”

On one hand, that was maybe better than getting blamed for some stupid prank or scuffle. On the other, what sort of ‘gathering’ would require her presence so urgently? She hadn’t gotten any letters from home recently that would explain it. Hopefully it wasn’t anything too serious. Her family had experienced enough trouble in the past few months as it was.

“Oh, okay. Thank you, Professor.”

“Of course. Gather your things and I’ll escort you to the Headmaster’s office.”

Dorea smiled politely. “Oh, it's quite alright. I know the way. I don’t want to keep you on your feet.”

“It's quite alright. I was in the midst of speaking with the Headmaster when your aunt flooed into his office. I’m heading back that way regardless.”

Dorea nodded in acceptance and quickly began gathering her things. A tap of her wand dried the ink on her half-filled parchment and she rolled it into a tube before tucking it away inside her school bag. Her books, quill, and ink bottle followed after it, each stowed carefully in their own compartment of the expanded bag. Then she slipped the bag into her robes and turned to face Dumbledore.

“Okay, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

The pair walked in silence for more than a minute, Dumbledore leading the way down the near-empty corridors with Dorea trailing a step behind him, before she finally decided to ask a question that had been eating at her for some time now but that she hadn’t been able to drum up the courage to pose. She hoped he wouldn’t be angry. Exams were still a few weeks away and there were a lot of ways in which he could make her next year and a bit at Hogwarts difficult.

“Professor Dumbledore,” she began.

“Yes, Miss Black?”

“You were there. At the trial, I mean.”

Dumbledore kept walking without missing a step. “I was indeed, or so the papers keep telling me.”

Dorea grimaced. Everyone knew Dumbledore had been there. A lot more people would have died without his presence, and his quick thinking and powerful magic had won him a lot of admiration and an Order of Merlin, First Class. He’d been instrumental in dealing with the out-of-control fiendfyre that Hydrys had summoned, saving the lives of a majority of the Wizengamot. There were talks about classifying the spell as an unforgivable, considering expanding the list from three to four for the first time in centuries.

“Sorry, uh,” she stumbled over her own words briefly, trying to find the right way to say what she wanted to say. “I mean uh, you were there before. During the trial, before the sentencing.”

Dumbledore nodded. “I was indeed. I was called as a witness, as were many of my colleagues. It is not every day that a Hogwarts student is found engaging in such dark arts.”

Dorea hated the way her voice cracked as she asked her real question. “How…how did he look before, before he…”

Dumbledore sighed heavily. “I have often asked myself if there was anything I could have done differently. Anyway I could have seen it coming. Hydrys was always such an upstanding student. I never would have believed him capable of such things. I doubt anyone did.”

She had. But then again, she’d been one of the few people that really knew her cousin. Dorea was only surprised that he’d gotten caught doing it, and she had her own ideas of how exactly that had happened. Hydrys was always cautious, always careful. Sacrificing a bunch of muggles and squibs in a lightly-warded clearing wasn’t like him at all. If he’d wanted to go through with a ritual like that, Grimmauld Place had a spacious, heavily warded backyard and ritual chamber. Or he could have portkeyed to the Chateau, or even the family’s unplottable island. Being so…reckless wasn’t like him at all.

Dumbledore sighed again. “In the end, he looked…lost. Confused. Angry too, but more dumbfounded than furious. It is a tragedy how we failed that boy. Another promising young soul lost to the allures of the dark arts.”

Dorea nodded slowly. “Thank you, professor.”

He turned and favored her with a small smile. “Of course, Miss Black. If you ever wish to talk, know that my office door is always open to you.”

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They stopped outside the headmaster’s office and Dumbledore spoke the password, causing the gargoyle to leap out of the way of the spiral staircase leading up to Dippet’s chambers. He gestured for her to go ahead, and she thanked him again before proceeding up the steps.

As Dumbledore had said, Aunty Lysandra was waiting for her, pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace with short, sharp steps. The headmaster was watching her silently from behind his desk, a small smile on his lips.

She turned as Dorea stepped into the room. “Oh, finally!” she exclaimed. “You took your sweet time. Walburga already left. Let’s go.”

Dorea’s eyes flicked between her aunt and the headmaster. “Where are we going? Did something happen? Will I be gone long?”

Lysandra smiled tightly. “Home. Lord Black has called a family meeting. Everyone is required to attend.”

Dorea frowned. “Arcturus isn’t Lord Black yet.”

Lysandra exhaled sharply, glancing over at Dippet. “He’s close enough. Should be just a few hours, but it's important. I’ve already spoken with the Headmaster, you’ll be excused from your classes for the rest of the day and tomorrow just in case.”

Dorea nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“Good.” Lysandra marched over to the fireplace, then turned towards Dippet and bowed her head. “Thank you, Headmaster. The House of Black appreciates your discretion and willingness to accommodate our internal policies.”

“Of course,” the elderly wizard smiled. “I understand how it can be. I look forward to speaking with Cygnus during the next meeting of the board of governors.”

Without another word, Lysandra spun around, grabbed a pinch of floo powder from the ornate container on the mantle, and tossed it into the flames. “The House of Black!” she called out, vanishing into the roaring green flames.

Dorea bowed her head to the Headmaster. “Thank you, sir.” Then she took a pinch of the powder as well and once more the orange flames turned green. “The House of Black!” she called out as well, putting just the right emphasis on the last word, just like Aunt Lysandra had. The family had a number of properties connected to the Floo Network, and it would be annoying to end up at the wrong one.

Everything spun and fire roared in her ears. She bore it stoically, used to the somewhat unpleasant means of transportation. Then she stepped smoothly out of the flames, feeling the thick Floo wards stopping unwanted visitors part around her, and into pandemonium.

The entry hall of Castle Black was filled with people. She recognized most of them from countless family meetings, visits, and events, but it was still something of a surprise to see them all gathered here. When Aunt Lysandra had said that Arcturus had called everyone, she’d meant it. Even old Elladora, who’d faked her death some years ago and had been hiding out in Africa ever since, was here, the severe witch looking none too pleased to have been called back to Britain.

She scanned the room until she finally found her parents, who were standing together with her elder brother and sister, along with Pollux’s wife Irma and their two children. Her eyes lingered briefly on Walburga, who was similarly dressed in her Hogwarts uniform. She still found it rather strange to be studying at Hogwarts at the same time as her niece, but that was what happened when her idiot older brother decided to get his somewhat older fiance pregnant as a third year.

She purposely walked over to join them, weaving around annoyed looking aunts, uncles, cousins, and other relatives. She bowed her head in greeting to each of them in turn. “Mother, Father, Brother, Sister, Irma. Does anyone know what’s going on? Aunt Lysandra didn’t tell me anything.”

Before any of them could respond, Arcturus’ voice boomed through the hall. “My House of Black, compose yourselves,” he ordered.

The room fell silent. As much as many were annoyed to be here, they were still Blacks.

“Thank you,” Arcturus said, his voice much quieter without the aid of a sonorous charm, but still easily heard in the suddenly still room. “Now, first of all. I want to be perfectly clear. What you learn here today is a family secret of the House of Black and will not be shared with anyone outside the family without my express permission. So speaks the Heir of House Black.”

“So mote it be,” nearly a hundred voices including her own whispered as one.

Dorea felt the magic in the room shift, her blood humming softly. It wasn’t an unbreakable vow––no outside magic could compel such a thing––but she doubted anyone in the room was going to blab. This was clearly something significant if Arcturus was willing to go that far. Using the Family Magic like that didn’t come without a cost.

“Good. Everyone, follow me. We’re going down to the family hall.”

Dorea frowned. That was an odd place for them to go. There were a few significant things down there, but none that she could think of that would cause a reaction like this. Still, she followed the crowd as they slowly moved through the castle’s narrow corridors, until they finally reached the modestly sized chambers near the center of the small keep.

There were a number of soft gasps and curses, and Dorea pushed forward towards the front of the crowd. The room was rather cramped with so many people inside of it, and she had to squeeze to reach the front of the crowd.

The wall they were facing housed one of the family’s most prized artifacts, the true family tapestry. It was a colossal thing, more than thirty feet wide and fifteen tall, covering the entire wall. It had been commissioned from an unknown craftsman of superb skill more than a thousand years ago, and none of their attempts to duplicate it since had been at all successful. The family’s other homes contained lesser copies that had to be manually updated, but this one was one of a kind and absolutely priceless.

A giant family tree grew across the tapestry, tiny portraits rendering each member of the family in exquisite detail. The tapestry tracked every member of the House of Black, no matter how distantly related, and it had allowed the family a great deal of flexibility and precision when dealing with bastards, squibs, and other disputes of inheritance.

Dorea squinted, trying to find what exactly had gotten everyone so riled up. She looked at the bottom row of the tree and quickly found her own name, as well as those of her immediate family. Nothing looked particularly out of place. There was Pollux, his wife, and their children. There were her parents. There was…

Dorea’s train stuttered to a stop. There was a gap beside a very familiar name. One that had dominated her thoughts, and the public consciousness, for some months now. A new vine grew out of the tiny portrait, connecting it to a brand new circle that she’d never seen before.

It depicted a young witch, her hair long, wavy, and black, her eyes a bright blue, and her skin a pale olive. Beneath the circle was a name that Dorea did not recognize, though the color of the outline around the portrait indicated that she was a pureblood. Zatanna Zatara.

Dorea’s eye followed the vine back to the portrait beside it. The familiar face of her favorite cousin smiled back at her.

Hydrys…was alive. Hydrys…was alive. And engaged.

Dorea’s moved aside to allow others to see the tapestry. The volume in the room was slowly rising as more and more people noticed what she’d seen, and her head was spinning.

Before things could get too loud, Arcturus regained control of the situation. “The name appeared sometime in the last week, though we only noticed it this morning. I must thank my dear sister Lycoris and her keen eyes for bringing this to my attention.”

He took a deep breath and his eyes narrowed. “I will ask this question exactly once. Is anyone in this room sheltering Hydrys Sirius Black? You will not be punished if you are, but I must know how this has come to be. I, like everyone else, believed my cousin to be dead, his corpse burnt to ashes by his own magics. Myself, and a number of others, cast blood tracking spells to ascertain his location, but they all came up negative. However, the Tapestry has never led us wrong before. We must get to the bottom of this situation, and we must do it fast.”

The room was silent. Dorea looked around and found confusion and surprise painted on the faces of her family members. Hydrys’ mother was standing a few paces away from her, and there were tears glimmering in the witch’s eyes.

The silence continued for more than a minute before Arcturus sighed heavily. “I didn’t think so. Well. This is certainly a situation I was not expecting to deal with. Does anyone know of a pureblood Zatara family?”

Once again, there were no responses.

“Then it seems as though we have a mystery on our hands. Let’s move things to somewhere a little bit more comfortable, shall we? The sitting room, perhaps.”

The family slowly filed out of the room, and Dorea moved with the flow. She was lost in thought, but there was a wide fierce smile stretched across her lips. Hydrys was alive. She didn’t know how that was possible, but against all odds he was alive. And that was what counted.

Though how long that would last once she got her hands on him was a different question entirely. She’d mourned him in secret for months, and now apparently he’d gone and gotten himself engaged? What the hell, Hydrys! He couldn’t even give her a sign that he was fine? The nerve! She’d curse him black and blue the next time she saw him, then hug him until she heard ribs crack.

He was alive!