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"Home sweet home…" Sirius muttered with distaste, looking up at 12 Grimmauld Place, the dark and foreboding building holding mostly unpleasant memories at this point. The Dementors carving out what positive memories he'd held of childhood. He stood, uncaring about the heavy rain soaking him through, running in rivulets down his face, almost giving the appearance of tears. The British weather had come to strike again, how he'd missed it for the past two years…. He could cast a spell and make himself impervious to the rain - but why bother? This homecoming certainly felt like it deserved the gravitas of standing solemnly in the rain.
"This is ridiculous. The door is right there." Arcturus Black muttered, standing by Sirius' side, not a drop touching his expensive and well tailored robes. The old man leaning forward on his goblin silver tipped cane, both wrinkled hands grasped tightly on-top the snake motif handle with ruby eyes. "This is your house now, must we loiter outside like this…" Arcturus drawn face twitched slightly, "Lord… Black…" he beseeched, and oh, Sirius enjoyed just how much that cost the old man to force out between clenched teeth.
Sirius raised his right hand idly, gazing upon the Lord's ring that now adorned his finger. The pure black metal - so dark it seemed to repel light - some kind of alchemy created alloy lost to history - upon which the Black family crest stood out clearly, and ostentatiously, with tiny gemstones dotted around it - suited him well. "Yes… He said quietly. "Lord Black desires to loiter."
Arcturus controlled himself with nary a sign of his frustration, showing there was still some of the man left that had been a political mastermind in his youth. His face shuttered into a polite facade, as he waited in the London rain next to Sirius. Like he'd chosen to stand here for his own reasons. Purebloods and their silly ideas about what constitutes politeness. In his position Sirius would have just gone on and dealt with the consequences if any.
Some men were just made to serve. He supposed. And some were made to lead.
Sirius clenched his fist, feeling the heavy ring on his finger - the weight it carried. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, listening to the rain smattering down - muggles moving quickly through the deluge, not aware of the two men standing before a building they did not know existed.
Becoming the head of a family was not simply a matter of legality. In a family like the Blacks it held so much more. A direct line to the family magic, dominion over the wards of the Black properties. To a limited extent - even control over those within the family. Sirius flexed his fingers, this ring… He now held the power to force his mother to shut her mouth. The magic inherent in the family magic, the ring, and the wards of the property would make her obey. Even force her own magic into obeisance as long as she was under Black wards.
Quite useless if one weren't living in a Black property however. This was the real world, not a silly story. So there weren't any fantastical powers inherent in a Lord's ring. No instant Occlumency, no fantastic abilities or collection of spells. Once bonded in blood to its Lord. The ring simply was the conduit between Lord and the family magic and wards. Sirius could taste it. If he concentrated enough. Centuries of history and magic. And he now controlled access to it. Controlling the family might be easier than he'd expected.
Family magic was misunderstood by those who didn't have it. It wasn't a repository of ancient family only spells - although there certainly were spells created by family members hidden from the general public, but they had limited use, as once in play, they would doubtlessly be copied by someone clever enough. Spells weren't beholden to a family like he'd encountered in fiction so many times. No, family magic was simply the accumulation of magic through blood, in the wards, artifacts and their own flesh and blood for generations. Family magic was by family, for family and only family. There was some minor truth to all the pureblood movement nonsense - only minorly. Creating a half-blood after all didn't remove the family magic. Which was known amongst the families, they just didn't want to acknowledge it.
"I suppose, it's time… You've ensured my dear mother is away?" Sirius asked his grandfather, walking towards the door with surety, now that his decision was made. Any hesitation shredded, left to wither in the past. He's the Black Lord now. Anathema to the original Sirius, but he found that this him, quite liked the idea of complete and total control over a bunch of rich bigots.
Arcturus followed him, his gaze boring into Sirius' skull from behind, "I sent her to the holiday home in the south of France. You'll have your week, as promised." He muttered.
In the end, it hadn't been difficult to force his grandfather's hand. Arcturus Black truly was desperate. Sirius was the only choice for the family's survival, so whatever plan the old man had been ruminating on - to lead Sirius in the right direction, with vague promises of headship. He'd been forced to abandon them at the prospect of losing Sirius. Sirius hadn't been bluffing. He'd truly go at it alone rather than face returning to the family under the control of someone like Arcturus. Too old and too hidebound to understand the reality of their world and the muggle one. To set in his ways to adapt. No… Sirius would rule them - or he would disavow them. Once his grandfather understood this - matters had proceeded quickly.
The door to Grimmauld place opened on its own when Sirius raised his hand to it, a flare of family magic recognizing the Lord, the dreary insides revealed, not yet in the state of disrepair it would have been in a decade from now, but still unbearably gloomy and depressing. He stepped through, feeling the wards settling around him, the powerful blood magic invigorating him, making him shudder, it was not unlike a magical high of sorts, (Not that he'd ever admit to having tried magical drugs, definitely not in his sixth year, and seventh, and that one time with James when Lily was very very pregnant and moody.) It might be almost completely abolished now by the Ministry, but once, the Black's had been the premier practitioners of blood magic. It's why they never suffered an attack at home, either through Grindelwald or Voldemort or the lords preceding them. As long as there was a Black Lord, sanctuary would be had for all Blacks. The strength of the wards made an attack on the family an effort in futility. Voldemort had courted the Black's, because he couldn't as easily threaten them - they could just turtle up, safe in their homes if that happened. All things a young Sirius had been forced to learn, and that family history would be useful to him now. The family magic under his direction, the family under his direction. For the greater good.
Perhaps this is how in canon all of the Black's ended up dead by the time Prisoner of Azkaban happened. Picked off one by one - the family magic not supporting them as strongly without a strong head - Arcturus likely faltering even further. The wards slowly weakened, their enemies circling, taking their opportunity. Malfoy had a potential black heir in his son, potential benefactor of the family fortune - Sirius certainly wouldn't put it past him to orchestrate a situation where the rest of the Black's had terrible accidents, or went in their sleep, before their time - everyone knew Black's die young after all… Well young for Wizards and Witches anyway.
With a crack, Kreacher appeared before him as Sirius stepped by the troll leg umbrella stand - hideous decor, really. It's like they'd been ruled by edgy teenagers their entire existence. Sirius could appreciate a certain dark aesthetic, but they took it to a frankly ugly and comical degree. "Kreacher, do not speak without my permission, do not leave to speak to another member of the Black family without my express permission, do not leave this property at all, do not sabotage me or mine, clean this house properly, and one day your head might join the others." He snapped off, before the house elf got a chance to start grumbling.
Kreacher mulled that over, a rebellious look on his face, eyes almost bugging out of his head as he tried to think of a way to spit vitriol at the unfavored son of the house - returned as its Lord. Eventually disappearing with a crack, unable to find a way to say something venomous. Sirius would have to gain the creature's loyalty as soon as possible, there would always be loopholes in his orders if the elf was determined to betray him. He didn't have the patience to draw up a list of a thousand things the elf would not be allowed to do to inconvenience him, and if Dobby was any indication, an elf could go to extreme lengths in disobeying a master if they really wanted to.
And Kreacher really wanted to disobey Sirius.
"I never liked that elf." Arcturus muttered sourly, coming to stand next to Sirius. "As requested, a world renowned healer is scheduled to arrive in the morning," He grouched, he'd been bitching about the price all the way home. For someone so proud in the family fortune, he was remarkably cheap. He eyed Sirius carefully, eyes assessing, "You'll have to let her through the wards, although I might suggest allowing a temporary exception, only. Many would still wish for your death."
"I'll figure it out, grandfather, thank you." Sirius said dryly, not willing to get through any kind of lesson with the old man, not this early in the game, he'd need to prove his independence first. The house had a massive library and a multitude of portraits of ancestors for a reason. He wondered briefly how many of those wishing death upon him would belong to his loving family, his mother for sure, but who else? "That will be all." He finished, making a gesture towards the front door. Dismissing Arcturus, as Sirius himself headed for the stairs.
"Lord Black." Arcturus muttered, a begrudging look on his face, before swirling on the spot and exiting through the still open door, apparating away the second he was outside the wards, the door slamming shut on its own as soon as the old man left.
Merlin this place even smelt off, like they'd entombed their enemies in the walls or something. Which… Was a possibility with his family. He should probably get that checked.
Sirius eyed his surroundings with distaste as he headed upstairs, he'd need to get this place completely redecorated anyway. He couldn't embark on a political career and have anyone come over and see… He grimaced at the house elf heads decorating the wall of the stairway. That!
But first, before everything else, before even sleep…
A bath!
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The next few days were extremely busy for Sirius. Even with a bath and grooming taken care of, he still looked sickly and gaunt. The healer had done what she could, and Sirius certainly felt more energetic after. Even surviving the healer with the bedside manner of a troll, with aplomb. He'd even been kind enough to refrain from flirting. Although it might have to do with the prospect of her deciding to use her mannish hands for an impromptu prostate exam if he annoyed her enough.
Not that Sirius was necessarily against that in a more romantic setting.
He was also now on a regiment of potions worth thousands of galleons, for organ repair, system cleansing, rejuvenation of his skin, amongst many many more utilities, and instructed to take in over 5000 calories a day to go with it. It took him several dozens of orders before he managed to force Kreacher into cooking a meal to his standards, somewhat - without somehow flubbing it on purpose, or doing such things as substituting shampoo instead of milk into the pancake batter. A fine prank, Sirius would have thought, if it was anyone but Kreacher doing it - and anyone but him being the recipient. The little elf was just entirely unpleasant. Quite frankly if the little blighters weren't so ridiculously useful, he might have just gotten rid of him.
It's why he quickly decided to deal with Kreacher now, today, even with the thousands of things he needed to get done, answering the requests for interviews, the owls from the Ministry, sending out the invite to all Black family members to gather under his roof at the end of the week, find a way to to see Andromeda and convince her to rejoin this pack of insane blood purists and etc for eternity. It had been three days of having to watch every word he said, so the elf couldn't interpret it in a way to screw him over - it was enough. It needed to be dealt with, now.
Either that or he'd be forced to kill him just to ensure his safety.
He folded the Daily Prophet, still now, three days later, every headline screamed about his trial and the consequences that lay therein. Something akin to a witch hunt had begun in regards to the foul Peter Pettigrew, people crawling out of the woodwork to give interviews on how they'd always known there was something wrong with him. Sirius snorted with disgust, tossing the paper onto the kitchen table, those same people were likely the same who held teary eyed eulogies for the hero Peter Pettigrew two years ago, and talked about how they'd always known he was a good and just man. The fickleness of wizards and witches made him sick.
Of course the paper was always asking the constant questions on what would happen with the boy-who-lived. Dumbledore, uncharacteristically for him, was completely silent. He hadn't been heard from by the Ministry, the Prophet, or sent a single missive to Sirius, for that matter. It somehow irked him, he didn't want to speak to the old man, not at all. But his silence was speaking loud and clear in itself. He was either a coward, refusing to face his own mistakes. Or he had some plot brewing, taking steps to protect Harry Potter from undue influence, and didn't have time to speak with anyone. Avoiding Sirius so that he could not enquire about his godson.
A valid tactic since Sirius certainly wasn't going to approach the man.
Sirius didn't particularly know anything about raising a kid, and part of him definitely did not want anything to do with it. But his memories spoke of a deep seated love for the boy, and frankly the part of him that disliked him - very much liked the PR benefit being the godfather and guardian of the boy-who-lived would bring. Yet, he still had much to do before he could lock horns with Dumbledore on that particular issue. Well, even if he probably was far from the perfect guardian for the kid, he could hardly be worse then where he was now. And Black family wards would do a hell of a lot better protecting him then just living in an obscure muggle neighborhood would. Sirius could think of a hundred ways to Imperio a muggle or a dozen into destroying the home and never ding those blood wards at private drive at all.
"Kreacher, attend." He called out sharply, having made up his mind. Moving his thoughts away from the many many issues that lay before him, to concentrate on the most pressing one. Best get this out of the way now.
With a crack the surly elf appeared before him, glaring balefully at him. Going so far as to hold his hands over his scrawny mouth to prevent himself from talking. The wrinkly being barely dressed in a filthy pillowcase that just annoyed Sirius. What was it with bigots and having to brag about how much they could out-douche each other? A proper uniform for a servant shouldn't be too much to ask, have the elf make it themselves if the clothes issue is the problem. He silently decided to ensure Kreacher got a proper uniform and quarters after this, as much as he disliked the elf on sight, he was not going to become one of those rich ponces, that he'd had to equalize, those with no regard for their servants or anyone below them.
If he could treat Kreacher with some measure of respect - perhaps he could keep himself grounded.
Sirius took a deep breath. Grasping his wand, he could do this, he'd practiced in the attic, on some of the hapless magical creatures that infested it over the last few days, while his body wasn't up to strength yet, his magic seemed as strong as ever. Even buoyed by the family magic and its invigorating effect - the strengthening potions not hurting either. He was an adult wizard. Surely it wouldn't take a hold of him like it had the young teens, he couldn't even open it after all. "Kreacher, bring me the locket. The one Regulus died to destroy." He ordered tersely. Steeling himself, wand held ready.
Kreacher's eyes widened in shock, but he popped away, returning in seconds, holding Slytherin's locket, looking reluctant to let it go. Sirius motioned for the elf to put it on the kitchen table, and he obeyed, his long ears twitching as he stared between his master and the locket. The elf almost spastic as he tried to reach for the locket, yet not, at the same time.
Sirius eyed it with distaste, perhaps this as well had attributed to the downfall of the family, this pure evil infesting their home. Dark magic had costs - pure black magic - cost everything. Just being around it made Sirius feel unclean. Having that inside the wards… He had no idea how that could affect them, soul magic was not something a good little Gryffindor dabbled in.
They probably had a book on it somewhere. Black's had dabbled in everything.
"Kreacher, on this subject you may speak, tell me of Regulus' last order, tell me what happened." He said quietly, not able to show compassion for the elf right now, he had too many bad memories of this elf being involved in his mother's torture of him. But while he couldn't forgive, he could at least absolve the creature of its guilt, and turn him into a useful vassal - instead of the wretch he currently was. He'd been loyal to the end, he deserved better than this existence, even if Sirius could never come to like him.
Kreacher wrung his hands together, tears appearing in his bulbous eyes as he began, haltingly, to speak. Still staring in disbelief at Sirius, eyes periodically flickering to the locket laying on the kitchen table. There was still hate in that gaze, but also wonder.
"When he was sixteen years old, Master Regulus joined the Dark Lord. So proud, so proud, so happy to serve…" Kreacher spoke, a crooked sad smile on his wrinkly face. "And one day, a year after he joined, Master Regulus came down to the kitchen to see Kreacher. Master Regulus always liked Kreacher. And Master Regulus said…He said…" The old elf began rocking in place, keening sadly. "He said that the Dark Lord required an elf. Master Regulus had volunteered Kreacher."
Sirius sighed, "More the fool him," He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture, seeing Kreacher's immediate mullish look, "I know, I know, master Regulus is the best, how dare I? Etc, etc, continue, please, Kreacher." He said irritably, trying to drag up from his memories - the image of his younger brother, before he was ruined by his mother - with no success. He sagged in the chair, listening to a story he already knew, but nonetheless horrified by the evil in it.
"It was an honor, said Master Regulus, an honor for him and for Kreacher, who must be sure to do whatever the Dark Lord ordered him to do… And then to c-come home." Kreacher shook where he stood, his ears twitching sadly, his breath coming out in small ugly sobs.
Sirius sat in silence, head bowed, as he continued to listen to Kreacher mourn, the elf eventually gathering himself enough to continue.
"So Kreacher went to the Dark Lord." Kreacher whispered, voice wavering." The Dark Lord did not tell Kreacher what they were to do, but took Kreacher with him to a cave beside the sea. And beyond the cave was a cavern, and in the cavern was a great black lake…With an island in the middle. There was a boat, there was a b-basin full of potion on the island. The D-Dark Lord made Kreacher drink it."The elf quaked from head to foot, shivering madly as he retold one of his, no doubt, worst memories. With one worse yet to come.
"Kreacher drank, and as he drank he saw terrible things. Kreacher's insides burned…" Kreacher covered his face with his hands, shaking his head madly, ears flipping around as he continued in a broken voice. "Kreacher cried for Master Regulus to save him, he cried for his Mistress Black, but the Dark Lord only laughed." Kreacher pulled on the wrinkles on his face in distress, stretching the skin, fat drops of tears spilling onto the kitchen floor as he continued, perhaps also using it as a means to punish himself, Sirius let it go, this time. "He made Kreacher drink all the potion. He dropped a locket into the empty basin…He filled it with more potion. And then the Dark Lord sailed away, leaving Kreacher on the island…" Kreacher trailed off, staring down at the floor in silence.
How easy it was for Sirius to picture it. He might not hold much love for the elf, but he could feel pity and sadness for the suffering he'd gone through. The casual cruelty inherent in Voldemort went beyond mere cruelty. Grindelwald might have been a Dark Lord. But Voldemort was a blight on magic itself. He waved for the elf to continue, the sooner they got past this, the sooner there was a chance for the elf to get some closure. To complete Regulus last order.
"Kreacher needed water, he crawled to the island's edge and he drank from the black lake and hands, dead hands, came out of the water and dragged Kreacher under the surface. Master Regulus told Kreacher to come back, so he did." Kreacher said sadly.
"Like a loyal elf." Sirius offered quietly, although he was unsure if Kreacher even heard him, the elf staring ahead, unseeing, as he continued on. Sirius battled within, feeling a confusing mix of self loathing and anger at himself for feeling it. He had a right to hate the elf, what with their history, but he also felt for him, the elf loved his brother. He would have died for him with a smile on his face. Part of him would have been happier to just kill the elf and never having to face the dichotomy of feelings for the creature.
"Master Regulus was worried, very worried. Master Regulus told Kreacher to stay hidden and not to leave the house. And then… It was a little while later… Master Regulus came to find Kreacher in his cupboard one night, and Master Regulus was strange, not as he usually was, disturbed in his mind…Kreacher could tell…" Kreacher shuddered, eyes wide and afraid, "And he asked Kreacher to take him to the cave, the cave where Kreacher had gone with the Dark Lord. And he ordered Kreacher to leave - without him. And he told Kreacher to go home and never to tell my Mistress what he had done, but to destroy the first locket. And he drank - all the potion - and Kreacher swapped the lockets and watched… as Master Regulus… was dragged beneath the water…." Kreacher let out a wail, suffering through the memory again, the little elf's heartbreak clear to see.
"Voldemort is pure evil, Kreacher. You could not destroy his locket on your own. But I can." Sirius said, standing up. He eyed the locket. He could not open it - he was no snake speaker. But the killing curse should affect the locket and it's imbued soul, whether it was opened or not. It was a spell specifically meant to bring death, to cut away the soul, pure death magic. It should work.
Or so he hoped. He really didn't relish the idea of gaining custody of the boy-who-lived and then have a toddler open a horcrux, being the only available parselmouth. Really wouldn't scream responsible guardian, at all. Even Dumbledore waited until 11 to really begin fucking Harry over more then some neglectful muggles. And casting Fiendfyre was out of the question, he'd need time to get back into form, and even then he'd hesitate to let loose hellfire.
There was of course the option of basilisk venom - but beyond being frightfully rare, (try impossible to get ahold of) There was the fact that the only sure source resided under Hogwarts. Dumbledore's domain. He'd not be sneaking in to kill any Basilisks without being in top form either - and certainly not until he's found a way to completely insulate himself from Dumbeldore's machinations. Being caught sneaking into Hogwarts so soon after his release would ruin his reputation - no matter if the reason was benign.
No… This was the only way… Or he could apply to be the new DADA professor…
No, this was definitely the way.
Sirius steeled himself, calling up the hatred he'd always held close to his heart, for the Death Eaters, Voldemort and his dear Mother. For the rich and privileged, the system that sustained them, the ones in power using those beneath them until there's nothing left. He pointed his wand towards the locket. "Avada Kedavra!" A bolt of death magic, sickly green and foul, left his wand and struck the locket. An otherworldly wail was suddenly heard in the kitchen, an acrid smell filling the room as the locket melted slightly, a cloud of smoke vaguely holding a face appearing for a second in the air above the kitchen table, before it dispersed. Sirius shivered as he felt the family magic in the wards viciously tear into something, Slytherin's locket apparently having protected the soul from the blood magic of the Black's. He was too new at this, hadn't had a chance to study the wards much yet, other than on how to give temporary access, but he knew, the soul fragment was without a doubt no more.
Sirius slumped down in his chair, "It is done, Kreacher, you've served the Black family and Master Regulus well. The locket is yours to do with as you will, in Regulus' memory, you may use his room as your own henceforth as well." He ran a trembling hand down his face. "And you're not allowed to punish yourself anymore, unless I order it. Only me." He added belatedly, feeling drained.
Kreacher slowly snapped up the locket, disbelieving eyes staring at it and then at him, before the elf bowed low, and disappeared with a crack.
"Well at least I shouldn't taste shampoo in my pancakes any longer." Sirius muttered. Feeling wrung out. The killing curse was not as easy on a real target, compared to minor household pests. Even if the locket hadn't fought back, not having been opened, it had still held a presence, one that had assailed Sirius mind the second the death curse was uttered. It had been too late. But it left Sirius exhausted. Even if the wards had immediately intervened and ripped through whatever was left, he still wasn't even a week out of Azkaban yet.
He gingerly stood up from the table, and left the kitchen. His tasks could wait, he needed a rest.
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Next morning he sat down at the kitchen table, staring down at his full English breakfast on ridiculously fine silverware, a diamond encrusted candelabra taken out of storage and polished until it sparkled was filling the room with a pleasant aroma from its magically treated candles - specifically made to ensure relaxation. Sirius didn't even know they had any of those. "Kreacher…" He said slowly, surreptitiously hitting the food with a detection spell, just in case, ".... Good job." He finished awkwardly, looking down at the surly elf that was nervously gazing up at him.
Kreacher squirmed in place and Sirius realized he was still under an order not to speak, "I rescind every previous order to you Kreacher, except for the order in regards to your new room and rule on punishment, or contacting anyone else without my permission." He said, digging into the perfectly prepared traditional English breakfast. No need to give him too loose of a leash, loyalty can change.
"Kreacher thanks bloodtr-master, Kreacher will do as master says." Kreacher mumbled, bowing low. He was about to pop away but Sirius raised a hand, bidding him to stop, chewing his sausage slowly.
"As the highest servant of the Black family, you need to look the part." Sirius declared, noting with pleased surprise that the elf had even managed to make his coffee perfectly, even though his penchant for the drink had come with this reborn life. Sirius looked down at the suspicious looking elf. "If I order you to make a uniform for yourself, it will not count as giving you clothes." He was half ordering, half asking.
Kreacher squinted at him, shuffling his feet, "No master, won't count as clothes." He muttered uncomfortably.
Sirius waved his wand, concentrating, managing to project an illusion of a butler's uniform, going through several iterations in front of his skeptical servant. "How you look and act reflects on the house of Black, Kreacher." Sirius said sternly, "You are the first line of contact, you will not make the family look bad." He pressed. Knowing this would ensure the elf listened.
Sure enough, Kreacher looked horrified at the possibility of him ruining the family's reputation. A white lie, since Kreacher could likely be in a batman costume and most purebloods wouldn't even notice, beyond tossing their coats at the elf's general direction.
"Pick one, make it, or have it made by a tailor, use Black family funds, I know you have access." Sirius said, closing his eyes in pleasure as the hit of caffeine entered his system. Was there a better thing than coffee? He might be considered a race traitor to the British for it, but oh it was so worth it. "Oh, make sure the Black family crest is prominent on the chest. You serve me, it will be made clear, you will make the Black family proud, Kreacher." Sirius looked down at the elf, sipping on his coffee, "For Regulus." He added softly. Inwardly smiling as the elf looked close to tears and nodded along rapidly, before eying the illusions of uniforms with more intent. A little manipulation wouldn't hurt, the loyalty of the elf would be a boon in the coming months.
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In short order Kreacher had decided on a classic old British butler uniform, cravat included. He'd look a bit ridiculous, but he'd no longer look like a starved beaten slave. Perception would matter once Dumbledore's allies needed to be courted. And a well treated servant would set him apart. While the dark faction wouldn't care at all because they wouldn't even pay attention to the happenings of servants. Kreacher popped away to make the arrangements and Sirius spent a lazy morning idly flipping through the Daily Prophet while eating his breakfast. Only ruined halfway through by Kreacher popping back and sternly - for an elf that had tried everything to avoid him - told him to take his potions.
Sirius smiled wryly to himself as he took the disgusting things, meant to help him return to peak condition. He couldn't really be upset, it was a sign already of the elf's loyalty, just like the breakfast. Before he could pop away again, Sirius ordered him to bring him one of his day robes - one for non official business.
He was soon dressed in an olive green robe that was smart, but not too obviously expensive, or made out of ridiculous materials like Acromantula silk. He'd been pondering what to do next, and on a whim, with such a good morning already in the bank. He decided it was time for a visit to Andromeda.
He has several subjects to discuss with her. And he'd definitely need her help moving forward.
She was literally the only sane member of the family - and he was including himself in that.
So at least something this week would go simply, without him having to go through too much effort.
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Of course when he decided to go see Andromeda he hadn't quite realized the missing mechanics of that decision. Like the fact he had no idea where she lived. A quick missive to his grandfather returned a perfectly respectful message - while still getting the point across that he didn't track blood traitors and the animals they rutted with. Sirius read underneath the underneath on that one, but he was pretty sure he got it right. Sadly his grandfather was the more accepting member of the family - so that said a lot of how much of a headache they were all going to be.
Tonks was a Merlin damned Metamorphmagus. Britain had more Dark Lord's and Dumbledore's in the last two centuries then they had metamorphs - you'd think that would at least give them a slight pause, accept Andromeda's decision due to excellent results if nothing else.
So due to his silly little blunder, instead of heading towards a quick morning tea with his favorite cousin - he flooed to the Ministry. Stepping out easily from the green flames onto the marble flooring of the Ministry Of Magic, a quick wave of his wand taking care of any possible detritus from the travel. The morning rush was over by now, so he had an easy time making his way to the registration desk.
He made small talk with the wide eyed young man that had the morning shift, having to remind him twice to register his wand - when the kid kept trying to hand it back to him without doing it.
"And your business in the Ministry today, Lord Black?" He managed to squeak out, the pimples on his face standing out so much more with how much he blanched as he realized he'd managed to ask the question. Also unless the man was way more observant then he looked like, someone in the Ministry had blabbed about the change of lordship already. It hadn't been in the paper yet, Sirius had checked.
Sirius wondered if perhaps the young man got many Wizengamot Lords passing through, looking as nervous as he was - it could perhaps explain why he looked like he might be avada'd right now. Sirius had met many of them in passing during family functions when he was young, he could understand the apprehension. He smiled and winked at the panicky young man, "I'm here to seduce the head of the DMLE." He stage-whispered mischievously.
A wizard walking by managed to miss his step at hearing that, stumbling and almost falling as he was too busy gaping at Sirius to watch where he was going.
"That's going to be in the Prophet tomorrow." Sirius chuckled wryly, shaking his head.
The young man almost choked as he stared wide eyed at him, a small laugh croaking its way out, the wizard's eyes bugging out as he worked his wand quickly, averting his eyes trying to pretend it never happened, his ears beet red. A gold badge popped out of the machine, in clear letters it said - Seducing the head of DMLE. Delighted, Sirius picked up the badge and placed it prominently on his robes. "Cheers, you're doing great!" He called out, walking through and entering the lifts.
The lift was uneventful, the few people that got in all eyeing him apprehensively, Sirius ignored them with ease. If the whole Wizengamot, the radio broadcasted trial, and days of Daily Prophet coverage hadn't convinced them he's perfectly fine - nothing ever will.
Arriving at the DMLE floor, right at the Auror department - he stepped out, yelling out, "Constant Vigilance!" At the top of his lungs. Lips twitching when an Auror rookie threw a whole stack of parchments in the air, panicking and reaching for his wand at the loud noise.
There were mutters all amongst the cubicles, many dirty looks were sent Sirius way, especially from the younger Aurors. There were a few chuckles from the senior Aurors as they made fun of the blushing rookie. They'd also served with Sirius, albeit for a short time, and took him in stride.
"What are you doing?" Moody asked loudly, from right behind him! And Sirius jumped forward with a yelp, to the laughter of the Aurors. He turned around and glared at the smug looking Senior Auror.
"Moody? Bloody hell, you weren't on the lift, how'd you get behind me!?" Sirius cursed, sliding his wand back in its wand holster.
"Constant Vigilance, Black." Moody sniffed, to further amusement from the department, before peering at him, a hard look in his eye, "Don't put away your wand, laddie! I could be an impostor, always keep a hold on your wand!" He barked out.
Sirius rolled his eyes, "I guess I'll just take my chance today then."
Moody snorted, shaking his head, stomping away, waving his wand to clean up the parchment spill, barking orders, "Constant Vigilance, Montague! That could have been an enemy infiltrator firing killing curses, and you would have just stood there, tossing parchment work at them!"
Sirius shook his head, and wandered away towards the DMLE director's office. He wasn't here for Moody today, and he'd had his fix of constant vigilance for a day.
Soon enough he found himself at the desk of the beautiful Miss Sweetwater again, the DMLE director's secretary. Leaning over it casually with a charming grin, he gave her a once over, "Hello there." He said suavely. Giving her his patented bedroom eyes.
She gave him a look he'd gotten from women many times - the, I'm interested in your good looks and fun ways, but I'm worried you're too much of a rogue, look. Then she turned away, focusing back on her parchment work, "She's busy and you do not have an appointment." She sniffed. Giving a disapproving final look at him, eyes fixed on his badge, before continuing with her work.
"You sure there's no way you could just give me a few minutes with Amy?" Sirius tried, bringing out the puppy dog eyes. Bringing out the innocent rapscallion look, it had worked great on Minnie. Sometimes. Like ten percent of the time maybe. So it should work 200 percent of the time on someone not McGonagall.
Her lips twitched for a moment, before she forced herself to frown, "It's Director Bones! And no, she's busy." She said primly, looking away from him.
Sirius nodded thoughtfully, today had been a bit of a spur of the moment visit, he hadn't thought to make an appointment. He tapped his wand to his throat, casting a sonorus, "Amy, you busy?"
Miss Sweetwater stared at him incredulously, as the words echoed through the department. "You… You man-child!" She sputtered out, lost in awe at his gambit.
Sirius wasn't officially out as a Lord yet, not until he took his place in the Wizengamot. So he felt justified to play a little, while he still could. It wouldn't do to turn out as stuffy as the corpses on the 'mot. Besides, it would give him a good reputation with the regular ministry drones. The ones that hadn't lost the will to live yet.
Amelia Bones stepped out of her office. A dry look on her face. "Don't bother, Miss Sweetwater, this one is incorrigible." She sighed, "Can I assume you've arrived to clear away the parchment work for your other form?" She asked Sirius.
"Well, might as well." Sirius said with a charming smile, polishing his badge none too subtly. Amelia rolled her eyes at the wording, upon noticing the badge. "Making your eyes roll back in your head is a good beginning!" Sirius said cheerfully as a rejoinder when he saw that. Giving her an exaggerated wink to go with his roguish good looks.
"Want me to call security, Director Bones?" Miss Sweetwater said with a huff, glaring at Sirius. He'd need to work at his wit and charm, this usually worked. Azkaban must have thrown him off his game. And the whole mind scramble thing.
"No, Lord Black is leaving. He has a date with the registry." Amelia Bones said dry as sand, "The head of the DMLE is not the first step, surprisingly. Don't worry, Edith will take good care of you." She returned to her office, shaking her head, but Sirius imagined she had a smile on her face, it soothed his pride to imagine it.
He turned back to Miss Sweetwater who smirked at him with a twinkle in her eyes, "Edith is 174, I'm sure she'll be just your type," she purred out, "Do you need directions to the registry?"
Sirius smiled wryly, his pride having taken a bit of a hit, "If you don't mind." He answered politely, it's not an area he'd ever been in during his short time at the Ministry. And he'd find his way to the floo registry while he was at it, nail down Andromeda's address.
It took him until after lunch, due to Edith being as slow as 174 suggested. But eventually he'd paid his fine and shown off Padfoot and registered officially - thereby saving himself from criminal charges when Pettigrew inevitably spilled the beans on his Animagus form.
He'd definitely need to change things when he became Minister. It was ridiculously easy to bribe the people at the floo authority to give up Andromeda's address. Good for him, but really not a good thing for a government to be selling access to people's home addresses for the low price of 25 galleons.
When he was minister it would be at least 500 galleons to bribe your way to the records. And then Aurors would be waiting to arrest them for bribery after they've paid. Another nice little extra way to make some funds for the Ministry - for a short time anyway.
Then again some Purebloods might actually be dumb enough to try it again and again.
Crabbe and Goyle in particular weren't known for their brilliant wit after all.
Studying the coordinates for Andromeda's residence on the way out of the Ministry - he apparated immediately upon exiting the Ministry.
Bit later than he wanted, but afternoon tea was very British.
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He arrived with a soft crack at the driveway to a small pleasant looking house in the suburbs. Muggle neighborhood, a nice little garden attached to the small brownstone house. Definitely not somewhere anyone would search for a member of the Black family.
He walked up the cobblestone path, leading through the perfectly stylized lawn and garden, Andromeda's work no doubt, she'd always been a green thumb. He didn't feel much in the way of wards, although he wasn't an expert of any kind. Probably more of a safety in obscurity approach - cheaper too. War time wards were very expensive unless you happened to have a ward master on your own handing out favors. He paused at the door, straightening out his robes, before taking the knocker in hand and knocking loudly thrice.
There was movement in the house, and soon enough the door opened slowly, like the owner was hesitant. Sirius caught his first sight of Andromeda in a few years - the woman still beautiful, even in a sweatshirt and an apron, although too similar in facial structure to Bellatrix for his tastes. She also looked very hesitant.
"No hug for a favorite cousin?" Sirius said softly. Stood on the doorstep feeling some anxiety at the very open hesitation in the woman in front of him.
"Sirius…." Andromeda said slowly, the door still only half opened. "If you're here for an apology," She said, straightening her back, fixing him with a glare.
Sirius chuckled and stopped her from continuing by speaking up, "Not at all, Andy, you had nothing to do with my imprisonment."
Andromeda bit her lip, hand on the edge of the door, "But I never for a second believed you were innocent, either." She said quietly.
Sirius was taken aback, he hadn't expected that?" Really, not even one? Out of everyone I thought you…" Sirius trailed off, both of them standing uncomfortably at her door.
She sighed, opening the door up, "You might as well come in then." She mumbled, stepping back and allowing Sirius to enter her home. "Ted is at work, and I'd prefer to finish this before he comes home." She walked ahead of him, "I suppose owls were all sick? Floo not working?" She asked, somewhat waspishly.
"Ashamed of me?" Sirius had to ask, still slightly thrown by how this meeting was going so far. "And I guess it was a bit rude of me to just appear at your door." He admitted sheepishly.
"Not anymore then I am of any other Black." She replied softly. Moving into the living room, taking a seat at a dining table, a floral table cloth adding to the homey feeling of the space. Several plants dotted the living area, making it feel alive in a way. Lived in, he supposed. Nothing like Grimmauld place which was more of a mausoleum. He sunk into the chair opposite of hers, eyeing her carefully. Probably not the best time to ask her if she wanted to redecorate Grimmauld. Even though she was the only name on his list at this point.
"You have to understand Sirius. I fled the family - I expected that during the war Bellatrix would kick down the door and kill us all. If we were lucky." Andromeda said gently. Hands laid onto the table, fingers intertwined. "And that was if any other members of the family didn't pull some strings to arrange an accident." She smiled sadly, "I lived in constant fear of the name Black."
Sirius grimaced, pulling a hand through his hair, "No, I get that part, I really do. But Andy, I'm not like them."
"Aren't you?" Andromeda said shrewdly, eyes piercing through him. "I remember the boy you were Sirius. Cruelty was never very far away, and if the papers are correct, you were on your way to murder a man, instead of turning him in to the authorities, when everything turned wrong for you." Her lips quirked into a mirthless smile, "Murder seems very Black to me, Sirius." She hesitated for a moment, before letting one last arrow fly, "There's a reason no one really argued against your guilt, Sirius. It wasn't that unbelievable."
Sirius couldn't even argue most of that, because it was mostly true, from a certain point of view it certainly looked bad, he didn't agree with them all thinking him evil without bothering to question him, though. "I made mistakes, I've seen that now, but it was never my intention to do anything evil." He said, eyes meeting hers, "I'm trying to be better. And I'm trying to force the family along for it."
Andromeda just sighed, and sat in silence for a few minutes, before shaking her head, looking at him with tired eyes, "You haven't learned, not if you're trying to bring them all together in one direction - away from their comfortable hate. You can't Gryffindor this all together." She chastised, "This isn't Hogwarts, Sirius, this is the real world, you can't just move on with nothing but hope and wishes."
"Then join me, add your Slytherin mind to the process, we can make the Black family a force for good." Sirius implored her, he hadn't meant to pitch her today, had only meant to touch base again, suss out how receptive to rejoining the family she'd be, but if he left without doing it now, he might not get another chance.
"I left for a reason, Sirius. And I have a daughter now. I don't want her exposed to that kind of darkness." Andromeda said, immediately rejecting him. Eyes firm, mouth drawn into a thin line.
"She doesn't need to meet any of them until everything is sorted out, she'll be safe, Black wards would keep her away from anything that could hurt her." Sirius argued, but his heart wasn't really in it. He could tell that he was talking to a wall. Andromeda wasn't going to change her mind.
Indeed, she looked at him with sad eyes, "Sirius," she said softly, "How safe were you under Black wards?" She looked even sadder as Sirius immediately stiffened, "The threat isn't outside, it's inside. I'm not going back in, I won't!"
Sirius stood up, nodding slowly, "I admit this is not how I wished for things to go," he said quietly, studying his cousin. "If you ever need anything from me, I'm just an owl away, we'll always be family, Andy."
"Thank you." Andromeda said softly. "I wish you well, Sirius. Really I do, but please don't come over unannounced again." She asked, awkwardly.
The conversation was obviously over, so Sirius quietly let himself out, and apparated directly home. His mood was thoroughly ruined.
That had not gone how he wanted.
Andromeda had been a big part of his plans going forward. Not just for such a simple thing as redecorating Grimmauld place. But to take over in the Wizengamot for the Black's once he became Minister.
Andromeda would be perfect for running the family's PR.
This was a real setback.
It also hurt. He hadn't expected it. But it hurt that she thought so lowly of him. Even if he couldn't blame her for not wanting to deal with the rest of the family. He'd thought she'd at least want him.
That he'd be part of Nymphadora's life.
But being the Black Lord, a title that let him in almost anywhere in the magical world - was exactly the kind of thing Andromeda apparently wanted nothing to do with.
As soon as he arrived home he summoned the firewhiskey - time to see if getting drunk the magical way solved anything.
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Andromeda sat quietly at her dinner table for almost twenty minutes, going back over the conversation, feeling slightly guilty for being so straightforward. She should have cushioned it a bit. Merlin she'd been as blunt as a Gryffindor. She blamed his unexpected appearance today for her less than sensitive reaction.
Then again, she wasn't entirely unaware that he'd be here eventually, so there was no real excuse. She sighed loudly, standing up and walking up to the tiny fireplace in the living room, taking a pinch of floo powder from the small tin on the mantle and tossing it into the flames. "Headmaster's office, Hogwarts." She called out sharply, watching the fire flaring green. Getting on her knees and sticking her head through as soon as the floo connected.
"Mrs Tonks? I take it that he arrived then." Albus Dumbledore said immediately upon seeing Andromeda's head in the fireplace. Peering down at her through his half moon glasses, seated at his desk, a large tome in his hands.
Andromeda frowned, feeling discomfited, "He did. It didn't go well." She reported clippedly. She wasn't overly happy with being involved with Dumbledore, but he had protected her during the war. So she owed him this at least.
"Tell me everything, my dear."
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Time moved on and the day for the family dinner arrived. Sirius even assisted Kreacher in making sure the formal dining room was set up properly and cleaned top to bottom. Appearances were important - he couldn't be seen as faulty - they'd already be against him, he needed an aura of competence and control.
As for catering for the meal, Sirius didn't trust Kreacher enough - loyal now or not - to create a dinner menu for the entire Black family on short notice - also because Kreacher wasn't too fond of Cassiopeia and the last thing he needed was the little bugger putting shampoo in her food. Also, Sirius was a delightful son of a bitch, (both in a factual sense, and metaphorical) so he placed a catering order from the nearest muggle Indian restaurant he could find. Screw pumpkin juice - his family was going to drink Pepsi tonight, while dining on the best muggle Indian food money can buy, when one orders at the last minute from the nearest available place, anyway.
It says something that having been reborn, so to speak, in this magical world - the greatest culture shock he received so far was having to go and order the food in person, as he had no access to a muggle phone - and the modern takeout model of a click away on your cell phone didn't exist anyway. Besides, the muggles wouldn't even be able to find the house, so it was a moot point.
As for why he was being petty? Because fuck his family. Sirius had been so busy planning for everything going forward - that the whole actual food part of the dinner situation had slipped his mind. In the end he was fairly pleased with the solution. Because he'd get to crack up on the inside the entire dinner, watching their faces as they navigated Indian food, while trying to remain polite in front of their new Lord and suss out his intentions. Especially his mother, who he knew saw anything foreign as distasteful and trashy at best, he'd enjoy watching her try and hold her tongue the most.
He had a balancing act to maintain. His family needed to stay aware that he wasn't really like them. That he was a Gryffindor not a Slytherin, ( although he'd admit he had several Slytherin qualities… ) One, so they would always underestimate him based on their biases, making them easier to manage. Two, so that they understood he wouldn't do business as usual, that cruelty and torture was not going to be allowed.
Unless he had to do it to them, of course. Do as I say, not as I do, and all that. They couldn't be trusted with it, but he trusted himself just fine.
The dinner itself would showcase his political ambitions and tactical acumen. Showing he wasn't just a Gryffindor. But the Indian food prank - would make sure they didn't believe he'd changed too much. Important that. Because people feared what they couldn't understand and old people feared change more than anything. If he came off as too changed and without any of the characteristics they'd known of him as a young teenager - they'd work that much harder against him just on pure suspicion and spite. Better to have them go along with the Gryffindor, for now. While thinking they could snatch an advantage at some point. It also played into showing his control, because they'd all know that he picked this food to needle them - to test them, push them. To give him an excuse to exercise his powers over them.
So even if it was last minute - it did serve the purposes he needed for it.
Time ticked down, he went and got the food, Kreacher magicking everything together onto the table, the muggle Indian food going into 16th century goblin made silverware.
He wore the formal Black Lord robes, the heavy robes almost featherlight for all that they looked massive - the finest silks, jewels and runes combining into a masterpiece of excess. Royal purple and the darkest black - it was really a sight. Then he sat down at the head of the table and waited. Kreacher would greet the guests at the floo and bring them over, one by one. Supplicants come to see their Lord.
There would be no spouses today. Only those of Black blood were coming. Sirius didn't need his family to be distracted - they needed to listen, whether they liked it or not. Also he had more control over actual members of Black blood.
The first to arrive was of course his grandfather, Arcturus took one look at the table, before sneering, shaking his head in disbelief as he slowly walked over to the right hand of the table. Sitting down gingerly, peering suspiciously at the food nearby, kept under warming charms. "I thought you smarter than this." He said sharply, "My Lord." He added on as an afterthought.
Sirius wasn't going to have any of that. "Don't forget who holds the power here, grandfather." He said with finality, twisting the ring on his finger, "I will do as I must. They'll fight me either way, better for something that doesn't matter."
"This will end well." Arcturus muttered, but bowed his head in aquisence. Picking up a goblet and sniffing at it suspiciously. Before taking a sip of the muggle soft drink. Rearing back immediately with disgust, "Circe's behind! Is this pure sugar? It's revolting!"
"You get used to it." Sirius said, trying to hide his amusement. By the dark look thrown his way, he wasn't doing a very good job.
Soon enough the next guest arrived. Pollux Black. And immediately followed by his sister Cassiopeia, who'd arrived as well, both entering with Kreacher together. Kreacher looked smart in his butler uniform, something none of the arrivals had yet to mention. Sirius wondered if they'd even noticed.
He'd give fifty/fifty chances his grandfather had, and bet the house that none of the others would. Except his Mother perhaps, due to her weird relationship with the elf.
"Pollux, Cassiopeia." He said quietly, waving to the seats to his left, "Take your seats." He ordered firmly. The siblings shared a loaded look before obeying. They were both in their seventies and it showed, silver dominating their hair, Pollux more than Cassiopeia. While other wizards aged gracefully - Black's it seemed managed to look their age. Cassiopeia looked like a cranky old witch who baked children in ovens in her spare time. While Pollux was gaunt and thin, his face could be carved out of rock.
Cygnus Black came through next, the stocky man had a weak chin and watery eyes, forever under the yoke of his older sister Walburga - Sirius dear mother - it was a wonder how Cygnus had managed to produce three women like Andromeda, Bellatrix and Narcissa. Sirius simply waved him to an empty seat, this one needed no words, he'd simply follow Walburga in whatever foolishness his mother would try.
He'd been broken decades ago, he'd be of no real use.
Cygnus had a lot in common with Sirius' father Orion, both weak men under the yoke of the same harridan of a woman; his father died in '79 however. Which is perhaps why his mother arrived alone, next. He'd expected her to arrive with one of the others, trying to project strength in numbers.
The permanent sneer that was always on her face was even more prominent today, as she stormed in, wearing so much black that she looked fairly ridiculous, the woman even wore a veil - not that it hid her ugly sneer from anyone.
"Mother. Have a seat." He ordered calmly. Meeting her eyes, his own cold. He could cast a killing curse right now and not even feel a twitch of regret.
Walburga seemed to possess some self control, as she sat down, as far away as she could from him and still be seated at the table. Sirius suppressed a chuckle at the honest horror on her face when she noticed the food on the table, the woman looked sick with rage.
"Ah, our last arrival." Sirius called out a few minutes later. "Fashionably late as always, Cissy."
Narcissa entered the dining room, cold and unfeeling as usual, and dressed in the finest robes money could buy, her blonde hair looked out of place amongst the black family that had gathered. She looked like the perfect Malfoy. Thank Merlin he'd forbidden spouses today - imagining Lucius being here as well was enough to make him gag.
As she took her seat next to her father. Sirius stood up with a cold smile, splaying his hands out, "All the family together again. All come before their Lord!" He grinned somewhat maliciously, "Don't worry, I don't need you to crawl and kiss the hem of my robes," He enjoyed the way they all squirmed at that, except for Narcissa who glared at him, some fire in those cold eyes at that comment. It was nice to see some life in her stuck up face.
"What is this… Garbage!?" Walburga shrieked shrilly, waving at the curry in front of her.
Sirius calmly sat back down at the head of the table, taking her usual inability to keep a clear head as business as usual, it was not yet time for her to be an example. "It's your food, mother. It's dinner time, after all. Shall we?"
There were some quiet mutterings of agreement, none of the Black's willing to push too far quite yet. Sirius greatly enjoyed seeing the grimaces and looks of bafflement as his family partook in Indian food, muggle made at that, plus the wonders of muggle soft drinks. Amusingly Narcissa seemed to actually enjoy it, well she always had a sweet tooth.
Speaking of the woman, after a dainty bite of curried chicken she spoke up, "I am… Surprised that Andromeda isn't here today." She said carefully. Not looking at her father, but staring straight at Sirius with piercing eyes.
Sirius noted the turmoil in Cygnus, and took amusement from his poor attempt to hide his rage at his runaway daughter being brought up. "Ah, yes, she somehow figured this lovely gathering wouldn't want her around." Sirius drawled sarcastically. "Something about wanting to hunt her down as a blood traitor."
That was all Cygnus could take, the weak man that bent over at every point - still had the strength to bluster out, "She's a mudblood whore!"
Sirius smiled coldly as every eye turned his way, assessing him. "Interesting." He said, turning his gaze on Cygnus, tilting his head. "Andromeda has produced the first Metamorphmagus in the Black family in centuries. What have you achieved, Cygnus?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Sirius! Cygnus produced three Black children, that trumps some mudblood half-breed!" Walburga came to Cygnus' defense, slamming a withered hand down on the table.
Sirius hummed, "There's supposed to be a Lord in there somewhere I think." He laid his hand flat on the table, the Black Lord ring visible to all. "You are no longer allowed a voice." He ordered mildly. Grasping the family magic through the ring. Intent on his mother.
Everyone felt it as the wards activated. Cygnus cursing and rearing back in his chair as Walburgas tongue vanished. The woman stared madly ahead, trying to scream something. Pollux and Cassiopeia, who had been content to observe so far, both shared a look, before scooting their chairs away from Walburga.
"As for that ridiculous assertion. Let's count them shall we. Your achievements, Cygnus." Sirius said harshly, a dark smile on his face, "Andromeda of course produced the Metamorphmagus child, after disobeying you and marrying elsewhere. So not any of your work." Sirius shook his head, clicking his tongue loudly, "Secondly we have Bellatrix, married off to the Lestranges and insane, and childless, rotting in Azkaban." He clapped his hands together shortly, the sharp noise making Cygnus shrink into himself, "Lastly we have Narcissa, who's produced one Malfoy spawn, and otherwise have been busy sucking the cock of a half blood, born of a squib and a muggle."
Walburga's eyes bugged out of her head and she rose up, screaming, still internally, reaching for her wand as Cygnus and Pollux both called out that he was a liar in outraged voices, his grandfather and the other women observing quietly. Sirius scoffed, waving his hand, utilizing the wards to freeze his mother in place where she stood. Only her eyes were able to move, and did so madly.
"Tom Marvolo Riddle." Sirius intoned, writing the name in the air, his grandfather closing his eyes, refusing to see the harsh truth once again. With a wave of his wand, Sirius changed the words into their emo teenage purpose - I am Lord Voldemort.
"No!" Narcissa gasped, looking even paler than usual. Cassiopeia eyed the name shrewdly, before giving Arcturus a look, upon seeing the older man wasn't protesting the discovery, she leaned back in her chair, a considering look on her face.
Her brother wasn't as calm, Pollux standing up, hands on the table, "That can't be true! The Dark Lord can't be…. From a muggle!?"
Cygnus had a hand to his heart, breathing rapidly, "A mudblood!" He squeaked out, eyes horrified.
"He's a Gaunt. The family so inbred the last girl of the family was born a squib, one who snared a muggle, raped him, and bore Tom Marvolo Riddle." Sirius drawled out before smirking mockingly, "Or as you lovingly call him, The Dark Lord or Master."
"You don't care about the difference between mudbloods and purebloods, why are you showing us this?" Cassiopeia asked bluntly.
"I don't care. And I will be taking the family in a new direction. The family motto is Always Pure. We shall keep it. Always Pure. In magic. That's what's important. Magic." Sirius said coldly. Meeting her disbelieving eyes.
Narcissa laughed suddenly, cold and sharp, "Is that Dumbeldore talking, Sirius?" Pollux shook his head free from his mutterings and stared at Sirius angrily at that.
Sirius smiled, "Forget that I am your Lord again, Cissy, and you'll be licking your husband's feet without a tongue." He warned. "Dumbledore doesn't have what it takes to rule the magical world. Only a Black does."
"Rule the magical world…" Pollux muttered, looking completely thrown, "What are you after?" He blinks quickly and adds, "My Lord."
"I will revolutionize the wizarding world, at the top of the Ministry, with all of you working for the same goal. The advancement of magic," Sirius shrugged casually, sitting back down, "Of course family bloodlines will benefit as they have history, but there will be no more mudblood propaganda, no more murdering squibs, the world will change."
"You'd see us drown under a flood of mudbloods!" Cygnus said horrified. Having regained some semblance of composure again.
"Don't be ridiculous." Sirius snapped. "The two most powerful wizards of the last one hundred years are half bloods. Dumbledore and Voldemort - and Voldemort might as well be a muggleborn - born as he is from a squib and a muggle. Harry Potter somehow killed Voldemort, and he's half blood too. Andromeda's daughter is a half blood and a Metamorphmagus - the first in centuries." Sirius stared them all down slowly, meeting their eyes one by one, except for his mother. "It is the truth, we can either stick our heads in the sand and avoid it, and drown as the world changes. Or we can be the change!"
"Sirius, is right. It's why he's the Lord of the family now." Arcturus cut in grouchily, "The Black family has always stood at the top of the world, we won't lose that now because you fools can't see the opportunity in front of us."
"What opportunity?" Pollux asked slowly, sinking back into his chair, Cassiopeia putting a calming hand on his arm.
Narcissa scoffed, "isn't it obvious, he's a war hero, Dumbledore's side owe him one after Azkaban." She smiled viciously, the previous shock gone as if it was never there, "And the godfather of the boy-who-lived."
Cygnus shook his head wildly, "The purebloods won't follow some mudblood lover!"
Sirius rolled his eyes, and casually removed the tongue from the weak fool as well. The man choked in fright and shock, as he sat in his chair, no longer daring to move. Narcissa sent him a concerned look, before pursing her lips and returning her gaze to Sirius. Seemingly reassessing him.
"You will get your tongue back at the end of our little get together, "Sirius said casually, "Maybe." He amended nastily.
"He's not wrong." Cassiopeia said calmly. Meeting Sirius eyes with a measure of amusement in her own.
"The end goal is one thing, obviously that will not be made public." Sirius explained. "Before any change can come, the Ministry itself needs a complete changeover. It will take time." He met the eyes of those of his family who so far had not proven completely idiotic. "But if we do it right… The Black family will be mentioned in the same breath as the founders of Hogwarts."
"Lofty goal." Narcissa murmured. But there was a greedy glint in her eyes.
"A goal worthy of a Black." Arcturus agreed with a nasty little smirk. "Dumbledore will fall over dead just at the thought."
"Good." Sirius said coldly. Drawing intrigued looks from the rest of the family.
Silence fell over the table as everyone pondered the possibility of gaining power in the Ministry. Sirius could see the greed and hunger for power in his relatives, except for perhaps Cassiopeia - he didn't know her motivation was, he'd have to find out. Greed he could easily control. They'd be eating out of the palm of his hands.
He didn't want an unknown variable. He'd have to find out what made her tick. He eyed Pollux - he'd be the weak link for her.
"Before we speak of any particulars, let's take care of some housekeeping." Sirius said, turning to his still fuming mother, frozen perfectly still, her eyes rolling in her head. "As Lord of this house, I banish you Walburga Black - to the property in Norway, to never be allowed to leave, or communicate with another being again, magic lost to you under my aegis."
There were some sharp intakes of breath and Cygnus looked like he was going to piss himself. Although not actually removing her magic - he'd basically done the same thing. Confined her to a Black property and prevented her from accessing magic while under Black wards. She was basically a squib now. "Kreacher, take her away." He ordered, disregarding her from his mind, not even watching as the woman disappeared out of his life forever.
He eyed Cygnus darkly, laying a hand on his shoulder, "I trust there won't be any more objections." He asked mildly. A small smile on his face.
Cygnus shook his head so rapidly he almost fainted. And Sirius utilized the family magic to reverse the tongue removal. Cygnus grasped his tongue with both hands in relief. The man was pale and shaking.
Sirius turned to the rest of the family clapping his hands together. Meeting their calculated gazes with one of his own. "Let's talk about oaths…"
He almost laughed out loud at Narcissa's fallen face, did she really think he'd allow her to just go spill the beans to Lucius. No, Narcissa would serve the Black family. Not the Malfoy one.
Lots of plans were made that night, the Black family slowly falling in line with his thinking.
Even if in the back of their minds they no doubt remained the same lovely bigots as usual.
Sirius could work with that.
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