1,489Black Luminary.
Book one: Houses divided (chapter 1 – chapter 25)
Of things remembered part I
A certain raven-haired boy lay on his bed, brooding over an absurdly large tome he had procured from the family library: Master Nentray's Complete Guide to Barriers and Wardings seemed very keen on upholding its promise of completion, as it held a staggering 12,000 pages. He carefully opened the formidable work and was surprised to find that what he had considered to be a fairly recent guide to protective charms turned out to be the unpublished magnum opus of a renowned charms master from the 18th century. With reverence, he turned the softly rustling vacat pages and stumbled upon a small handwritten note. The immaculate script in black ink read:
'Weight reduction and compression charms added at my personal leisure, along with a few private observations and recent discoveries for the reader's benefit. Before you start ranting about how I befouled our book, be grateful you don't have to sneakily drag thirty pounds full of charms from the library to your bed in the dead of the night, smart ass. With best wishes to the family – D. Black'
Harry chortled softly. He had indeed snuck into the library to … borrow this particular book, but he doubted his grandfather would be very cross with him. In fact, he had encouraged Harry to show interest in this particular branch of magic. Thinking about generations of young Blacks covertly trying to fool their parents, who in turn must have done the very same, amused him deeply before he plunged into the art of warding.
Hours later he gently stored his new treasure under his bed and conceded that he might as well get at least a few hours of sleep. A look towards the window told him that dawn was not far off. Still thinking about his new project, he mused that the only reason Nentray was not on some kind of black list was that he had apparently already grossed out the publisher, who had refused to go public. Not that the tome contained any kind of malevolent magic, but the author seemed to take vindictive pleasure in describing the consequences suffered by would-be intruders. Harry was mostly interested in the deeper theory though, so the somewhat disturbingly graphic descriptions did not irk him. In fact, to Harry it seemed that Nentray had been an incredible genius and only failed to get recognition due to his somewhat vile personality. With one last look at his bedside table, he remembered the big envelope that resided well-hidden and deep within. Smiling to himself, he turned around, falling asleep within a few minutes.
Breakfast was always a quiet affair. Arcturus, Harry's grandfather, was as usual deeply engrossed in the Prophet, tea seeming to be his only concession to the occasion. Harry did not mind though. He was always distinctly irritated in the morning and the quiet company was most agreeable to him. Even the house elves had picked up on their habits and silently placed a bowl of porridge in front of Harry. Fifteen minutes later, the latest scion of the house felt measurably more content. As if picking up on this, his grandfather spoke up without setting aside his newspaper, 'Had a good read last night? Surely you remember our talk of library books and where they belong, dearest Grandson?'
Harry's first instinct was to dispute the accusation but, remembering whom he was talking to, he refrained from doing so. A more careful response was needed here.
'I think so. Though I have as yet reserved judgement on the tome's quality, it seemed most promising when I had a look at it in the library.' Harry carefully examined his sentences and silently congratulated himself. He had indeed had a look at Nentray's opus in the library. What he had done next was better left unmentioned.
Arcturus' head appeared from behind the Daily Prophet and gave him a calculating look.
'Surely, Harry, you dutifully withheld yourself from sneaking off with said book then?'
Harry winced. 'Eh – no, sorry.'
To his surprise, his grandfather chuckled. 'It's alright this one time. Do be careful though. That book is a unique.'
'A what?' Harry quickly blurted out before correcting himself. 'Sorry. What is a unique, Grandfather?'
'A unicum, Harry. I am quite sure neither the Ministry nor Hogwarts has a transcribed copy.'
Harry was baffled. Usually, Arcturus was quite strict where the library was concerned.
Apparently noticing the flabbergasted look on his grandson, Arcturus added, 'My own grandfather once told me how he was apprehended smuggling the very same book out of the library by his own grandsire. In any case, it is indeed a very good reference book and you will do well studying it. I had Cranky do a preservation charm on it, in any case. Please note that our rule still stands regarding any other book. Do we have an understanding?'
In spite of the reproof, Harry smiled brightly, 'Thank you, Grandfather.'
'It is quite alright. Why don't you show me some of what you have learned, and we can later talk about your understanding of the theory before our evening lesson?'
Harry smiled. 'I'd like that. Thanks!'
Seeing the smug look of his grandfather, he thought he could get away with what he had in mind. 'Say, Grandfather,' his voice drawled. 'How did it come to pass that your very own grandsire told you about his apprehension with that tome?'
His eyes danced roguishly in amusement as Arcturus twitched slightly.
'Ah well, Harry. Let me just say that said occasion was not at all as amusing as I may have made it out to be.'
The old house elf, who had not uttered a single word all morning, took Harry's empty tableware and added with a look of playful malice, 'Oh, Master Harry! Cranky remembers very well. Cranky had to supply old Master Phineas Niggelus with a most potent calming draught, after he had finished screaming at the top of his lungs for nearly two hours. Even though Mistress Black had ordered Cranky to do preservation charms on any books young Master Arcturus might fetch out of the library, in any case.'
Harry looked in wonder and glee at the ancient house elf and said eagerly, 'I think we should have a talk about some more old stories, Cranky.'
The elf seemed to enjoy the prospect and nodded contently, 'It would be Cranky's pleasure, Master Harry.'
Arcturus had retreated behind the Daily Prophet, but the slightly irregular rustling of the paper told Harry his grandfather might not be altogether comfortable with the topic.
~BLHD~
True to his promise, Arcturus offered him insight into, and helped him comprehend some of the more obscure concepts of wards that evening. He even directed Harry to practice a basic ward that repelled vermin, as well as the Protego shield. The first was easy enough, as it was one of the easiest wards to cast. In general, the difficulty of a ward derives from several factors: subject, object, permanency and reaction were the most tangible pillars of wards. What is to be defended, against whom, in which way, for how long. A ward against non-sentient, non-magical creatures which was only meant to repel the creatures from a small area and would not have to hold up for very long was no real challenge. The weaving of the ward became infinitely more complex once the application evolved, as even a slight misstep might undo the ward, or even worse, make it faulty. Thus, truly complex wards were often in the form of runes, as you could make a written plan of the string of runes in advance and avoid the chance of failure. Runes themselves had weaknesses though; a woven ward existed only through bare magic, a runic ward, however, was anchored, and the script itself had to be protected, lest it in turn be targeted. In general, only people with either eidetic memory or prodigious instinct could weave complex wards, which is why Ancient Runes were taught, facultatively, in the second year at Hogwarts, and wards never before sixth year.
Shield Charms, on the other hand, were of broader application, though their drain and power were heavily contingent upon the caster's own magical prowess. Since Harry still did not have his own wand, he was using a Black heirloom which was, to his own and his grandfather's surprise, unnervingly compatible. Arcturus had nevertheless anticipated this particular charm, which was only due to being taught in fourth year at Hogwarts, to be a crisp challenge for a thirteen-year-old. To their mutual astonishment, however, Harry found the casting of the shield so easy, it seemed to spring from the tip of his wand almost by itself. Arcturus was even more baffled that his grandson's shield seemed to practically radiate power and hummed menacingly. He carefully lifted his wand and threw a silent Disarming Charm towards the wall of light. The moment it impacted the softly flowing magic, it rebounded and accelerated to shocking velocity, flew in less than half a second sixteen yards across the dining room, only to finally smash into the wall where the house elves would later find several fissures in the stone. After a brief pause, Arcturus eventually coughed delicately and muttered, 'Maybe you and your wand should tone it down a bit, Harry.'
~BLHD~
Harry remembered well that day a few years ago when he had been taken into Gringotts.
He had been there several times before, of course, as his grandfather was very open with him about the whole family business, but that day had been quite special. After the Ministry had rearranged the Hogwarts curriculum following Grindelwald's defeat, they had decided that children of eleven years were much too impressionable, especially towards political drifts. Thus, Hogwarts changed their age of enrolment to fourteen. O.W.L.s would be tested at the end of fourth year and N.E.W.T.s at the end of the sixth. Seventh year was only accessible to students who qualified and intended to take on an apprenticeship.
It had become customary for children to get their wands directly before starting Hogwarts, so if their parents wished to give them a basic understanding in magic before school – as was encouraged by the Ministry – they had to make do with family or heirloom wands.
After a lot of subtle prodding, his grandfather had finally agreed to have him try some of the Black wands stored away deep in Gringotts. He had originally been reluctant to do so and had told Harry of his reasons; wands could be very picky with whom they bonded and, as far as Arcturus knew, never had a Black wand allowed someone who was not of the family to wield them. It had been a very dreary discussion since Arcturus was extremely serious about making Harry part of the family, as was Harry. The possibility that the wands might object had been a very grim prospect for the both of them.
Harry had always enjoyed the long and winding trips down the labyrinth beneath Gringotts, but that day they'd arrived before he had steeled himself. His grandfather had put both of his hands on his shoulders and said very quietly, 'Harry, you are family, no matter if some wooden stick muses otherwise; as far as I am concerned you are, at the very least, my grandson.'
Harry had drawn comfort from Arcturus' words and did not stifle his relief. He had taken a step forward and then another and had finally come to stand in a dank cavern which was lit by numerous ancient torches. This was the oldest of the Black vaults, the heirloom chamber. Hundreds upon hundreds of items stood on pedestals, hung from the ceiling or lay on shelves, and once he strained his eyes a touch, a slight blueish shimmer around them had told Harry they were well protected and preserved.
He had-quite innocently-asked his grandfather, whom he then still had not felt comfortable addressing as such back then, 'Uncle Arcturus, how come these blue casings never go out?'
His grandfather had looked upon him in stunned silence, as had the goblin, who normally would have stood respectfully behind the head of House Black.
'Whatever do you mean, Harry?'
'I mean this blueish stuff that coats the items. Here,' he had taken a small medallion of pure unblemished silver from a nearby stand and held it loosely in his hand, a small prickling sensation creeping up his arm. 'See? It's difficult to see, but easy enough to feel if you hold it.'
He'd observed their reactions: Arcturus looked ashen and a rare expression of undiluted surprise on his face; the goblin just looked thunderstruck. Their silence had made him uncomfortable, so he added exasperatedly, 'It tickles!'
'Please place the medallion back on the shelf, Harry.' His grandfather had looked oddly restrained.
After he had done as asked, Arcturus had questioned him if he was feeling alright. That had only confused him further. And made him feel as if he had done something wrong, so he'd tried, most foolishly in hindsight, to explain.
'Eh, yes, I'm alright? I just recognised the blue light. Same as in the library on some books, right? It's somewhat hard to get close to these things, but if you know where to push back a bit, it only prickles and you can pick the stuff up. I can even change the colour of the light, see …'
'NO!' both Arcturus and the goblin had screamed. So he had stopped with one hand frozen over the medallion and looked at their miens once again. It had been strange to see Arcturus so riled up in public, and that, finally, had served to drive home the point just how serious the problem at hand had been.
'Listen and listen well, Harry!' Arcturus had explained with forced calm. 'What you say you see are protective enchantments that are hundreds of years old, but usually they are invisible to the eye. What you describe as colour is quite possibly the composite configuration of the ward. Do not change anything like this again, ever, until I myself am sure that you have a sufficient understanding of these matters, am I clear?'
He had only nodded meekly, which in turn had caused his grandfather to pause and calm himself. Slightly softer, the head of House Black had added, 'Harry, wards can be dangerous and are quite advanced magic. These wards here,' he had indicated the shelf from which he had picked up the medallion, 'are extremely harmful. In fact, I would not dare touch them, if I were not the head of my family.' He had exhaled softly.
'Most astonishing, Harry. But do not speak of this outside of the house again. I promise I will tell you what you need to know. Now, we had business, remember, young man?'
Business they had had, and to Harry's and Arcturus' enormous astonishment and satisfaction, nearly every Black wand had some kind of reaction for Harry. After trying nearly 20 wands that lay, still in pristine condition, on a shelf clad in soft velvet, Harry had settled for a very dark and shiny wand his grandfather had identified as a tropical wood of some sort. The previous owner had been so long dead that the small insignia that bore his name was too faded to read. Harry had thought it strange that every object in the vault looked as good as new, but the descriptions and plaques did not appear equally protected.
Nevertheless, he had been unbelievably happy with his find and a comforting warmth had spread from the wand as he held it. It had taken quite some time for Arcturus to convince Harry to store it in his robes for their walk outside. The feeling the wand emitted had been very much addictive.
Harry also remembered that Arcturus had given the goblin a small bag with what he had estimated to be at least 500 Galleons, though – at the time – he had not understood that confusing action.
Three things had come of that day. Firstly, he had had to endure some very uncomfortable questions regarding certain books in the library. Secondly, Arcturus had taken a much more proactive stance in teaching Harry magic. In addition to their general lessons in the early evening, Arcturus had assured his adoptive grandson that he was very proud and would do what he could to hone Harry's talents. Thirdly, Harry had his wand and he was remarkably happy with it. As a matter of fact, it had taken Arcturus six weeks to make Harry at least part from it while taking a shower. He had not been able to explain himself properly, but when his grandfather had asked, he had answered thus:
'I don't know, but it feels good to hold it. It feels right somehow, and it's like I'm all better.' He had not added his nagging suspicion that somehow even the wand seemed pleased when he was holding it. While he felt inexplicably proud that his wand appeared to have taken to him quite decidedly, he still found that somewhat odd.
It would end up taking another three years for young Harry to understand that it had been necessary to bribe the goblin. Gringotts was serious about the protection of their vaults, though, like humans, some individuals had a slightly more flexible approach to work ethic when confronted with a bag full of shiny gold.
~BLHD~
The next day dawned brightly and, once Harry had descended into their informal dining room, seemed willing to uphold its promise of glory. To Harry's great delight, a big brown owl landed on their windowsill, clutching a big brown envelope addressed to him and bearing the Hogwarts coat of arms. Excited, he grabbed the envelope, to the slight annoyance of the dignified owl that hooted in outrage. Paying it no further attention, he crumpled the envelope and read the thick parchment and shortly thereafter handed it to Arcturus, who looked amused at the excessive antics of his grandson. While he in turn read the letter, and Harry watched his guardian's expression turn into a slight smile, the owl stealthily grabbed two slices of bacon and flew out of the window.
'Well, Harry, it seems we should arrange for a visit to Diagon Alley. We may also be able to pick up some things you might wish for your birthday tomorrow. Though I have had some ideas on the matter, you may still voice one wish that has occurred to you.'
'Let's get going then!' said Harry eagerly and to Arcturus' amusement.
'Alright, young man. Make yourself presentable, and be careful to act your part in public.'
It had always been thus, so this thought did not bother Harry. At home, Arcturus encouraged him to be completely open and returned the gesture, but in public things were different. Indeed, Harry was very wary of strangers, and the distance his formal upbringing usually created helped him bridge the feelings of discomfort that plagued him around people he did not know.
Not one hour later, the Blacks emerged from the fireplace at the Leaky Cauldron. Arcturus wore a very conservative dark robe of silk and a formal travelling cloak, whereas Harry had dressed in one of his favourite black robes with emerald green contrasts that, while slightly more casual than his grandfather's, still would be readily acceptable to a grand ball. Heads turned upon their arrival, and Harry heard the usual chatter turn to muttering and pointed looks, but he showed no outward sign of discomfort. Arcturus nodded and led Harry towards Flourish and Blotts. As usual, Harry noted the crowds parting before them, while the witches and wizards looked either slightly off-put and embarrassed by their formal attire, or downright angry at their appearance. Even some of the well-dressed people seemed oddly hostile towards the Blacks. Harry, however, was unfazed, all too used to that particular behaviour by now.
The book store was nearly empty, only one family was doing their shopping there and had entered mere seconds before them. A plump, motherly-looking woman had her daughter on hand, while the slightly older son examined some of the more exotic books without enthusiasm.
The shopkeeper soon appeared from some corner in the back and made a very courteous bow to the woman, 'Mrs Weasley, a great pleasure to have you in my store, as always. How may I be of assistance to you today?' The woman seemed slightly annoyed by the exuberant greeting, but nevertheless answered without reluctance.
'Thank you. We need some sets for Hogwarts and a small other matter …' A small bit of parchment was handed to the proprietor whose eyes widened for a moment.
'Of course, ma'am. The book sets come at 5 Galleons a piece, 11 for the first years, and I will be happy to oblige your request free of charge.'
Harry tuned the rest of the conversation out and made his way to the charms section. After several minutes, he came upon a particular find in a polished showcase. Forgotten Masters at Charmswork: Waldufin, Chzem, Nentray and many more. Immediately interested, Harry took a look at the small label on the lower left corner of the vitrine. Price on request. The next showcase, which was not nearly as polished, held a book that was priced at the insane amount of 21,000 Galleons. He was reluctant to even ask about the first one.
Dejectedly, he made his way back to the front to find the Weasleys packing up and leaving. He took notice of the hate both children seemed to show his grandfather, who held himself in polite indifference. The shopkeeper bowed them out in an extreme show of hospitality and only turned to Arcturus once the Weasleys were well out of sight.
'Well, what do you want,' he nearly spat out. 'Sir.'
Arcturus replied evenly. 'One set of Hogwarts first year books. That will be all.'
'Sure, sure, that's 18 Galleons.'
Arcturus only raised an eyebrow, but Harry narrowed his eyes. 'Excuse me, sir! Did you not just…'
Arcturus, however, simply grasped his shoulder. 'It is quite alright, 18 Galleons it is.'
The other man seemed almost disappointed that he didn't get to argue, quickly provided the book set and did not so much as say another word after receiving his payment.
Harry was furious, though this time he didn't allow his feelings to reveal themselves. And even if none of the other shops tried to overcharge them, it seemed to him that they were barely tolerated in most of them anyway. Not one person saluted them, which struck him as strange, considering Arcturus had been a politician for nearly his entire life. Only in the late morning did one person exchange hasty greetings with Arcturus, and said person aroused his suspicion immediately. His robings were simple, but he carried himself with an air of self-importance that reminded him of Arcturus and some of his acquaintances. The exchange of pleasantries was short, though they seemed sincere enough. At midday, they finally entered Ollivanders, to Harry's inner excitement; after all, he knew all about the shop and the supposedly strange Ollivander. In his mind, an aura of mystique surrounded this shop. A nice change was the greeting.
'Ah. Lord Black. Welcome, sir, welcome! It is a great pleasure. Birch and dragon heartstring. Very unusual combination. Still satisfactory to your needs, I hope, sir?'
Harry marvelled at the show of mnemonic prowess but remained quiet.
'Indeed it is, Mr Ollivander. Today, however, I am not here for my own reasons,' said Arcturus primly and gestured for Harry to come forward. Ollivander's huge eyes widened even further, and for some reason, a small frown appeared on his lips, though it did only appear to stem from apparent wonderment.
'Ah yes. Mr … Would it be acceptable if I addressed you as Harry, young Master? I feel this may make matters easier.' His small smile made Harry look uneasily towards his grandfather, who in turn seemed slightly puzzled.
'Of course, sir,' Harry offered. Immediately, numerous tape measures flew towards Harry and began measuring him up. The wand maker still had a thoughtful look on his face.
'May I assume that this would not be your first wand in use, Harry? It is not unusual nowadays and I wonder …'
'I do have another one, sir,' replied Harry who, as per usual, felt defensive in the matter of his wand.
Arcturus swiftly picked up on this and prodded Harry gently. 'Perhaps you might show Mr Ollivander your wand, Harry? I am sure he can at least identify it for us?'
Harry had been curious, of course. But the thought of parting with his wand made his stomach squirm.
Arcturus allowed a small smile to appear and spoke soothingly to his ward, 'Harry, no one will take that wand from you. But we may still find you a better fit. I am sure Mr Ollivander will be most careful.'
Harry sighed, but offered Ollivander his wand nonetheless. 'It's not that! I just do not like parting with it, as I have stated a hundred times before,' he added in a tone that was somewhat unfit for the public ear.
Ollivander took the wand and examined it carefully. His eyebrows seemed to rise constantly for at least five seconds.
'Am I to understand that you do not like to part with your wand, Harry? How do you feel about it if you allow me asking so boldly?'
'My grandson is very … protective of his wand. It is an old family wand, of course, but he has never had any trouble wielding it,' said Arcturus with a hint of pride.
Ollivander looked astonished, 'Indeed? Well, let's have a closer look.' He moved one finger slightly above the wood and muttered something that sounded strange to Harry's ears. Afterwards, he revolved the wand slowly in his hand until finally taking hold of it and shooting a minuscule shower of silver sparks in the air. His look of concentration quickly gave way to a deep frown.
'And you say you have no problem at all performing magic with this wand, sir?'
As Harry nodded his head, the wandmaker looked twice between the wand and Harry.
'Extraordinary!' he offered simply. 'Well, this is a … rare wand, to put it simply. Eight and a half inches, African Blackwood with a shrunken sphinx heart at its core. I would venture a guess that this wand is at least 300 years old, as it has been quite some time since any wandmaker used a sphinx component, much less the entire heart … It is not that they make cores of inferior quality, quite the opposite. But they have fallen out of favour due to their intricate personalities. It often takes decades or centuries before a suitable match is found. We still have two sphinx wands in stock, even though we stopped crafting those 450 years ago. There is also the small matter of people having views on the matter of sphinx wands. It is maybe not something to spread around.' He paused shortly before adding, 'Would you mind demonstrating to me your connection to the wand? I find myself...curious.'
He offered Harry his wand, and Harry gleefully took it back. The wand, for its inexplicable reasons, seemed equally pleased and produced a giant shower of silver sparks, the same colour as those Ollivander had produced. Where the wandmaker had only produced two or three sad sparkles, Harry shot forth hundreds of lights that did not immediately disappear but continuously bounced harmlessly off the walls and bathed the shop for 20 seconds in a nearly blinding light of warm silver.
'Remarkable! Truly wondrous…' This was all Ollivander had to say for at least another minute, before he returned to his professional demeanour. 'Very well, to me it seems like a nigh heavenly match. Do you really wish to procure another wand?'
Harry looked unsure and Arcturus made a small gesture to placate his grandson, who already seemed upset at the prospect of parting with his wand.
'How about you try a few wands, Harry. And if you don't stumble upon any you find yourself more comfortable with, we shall keep your sphinx wand.'
Harry did not wish to argue and nodded slowly, personally not keen on trading his wand at all. 'If that's what you think would be best, alright.'
What followed were 40 minutes of agony to Harry. Where his own wand, which he kept in his left, felt like excitement and rightness, the others felt like sticks of wood, nothing more than dead branches with a feeble imitation of life. He did not voice his discomfort, though he did not doubt that Arcturus noticed. Ollivander, however, seemed oddly pleased to have found a challenge. The boxes he zoomed towards Harry had gotten older or downright stranger. After waving a 28-inch wand that already felt more like a staff, Ollivander looked thoughtfully at Harry and placed another box delicately on the counter. Inside, Harry found a handsome wand of some lighter wood. As he made to grab it, a slight sense of expectation that he had not felt since trying the other Black wands filled him. Half an inch before he would have placed his fingers on the wand, small red stars started to leak from the tip of the wood. Harry felt sudden excitement at this good sign and made to finally grab it, but at that exact moment, his other hand spun around.
Startled at this involuntary movement, he found himself looking down at his sphinx wand that for some reason had a bit of smoke circling around its tip and felt quite warm. Puzzled, he looked towards the other wand he was about to take hold of, only to find it cleanly snapped in the middle with some sort of broken feather visible in the middle. Sudden panic grabbed his heart, and when he looked up to asseverate his innocence, he found his grandfather wearing a slight frown and, to his huge surprise, a look of great delight on Ollivander's face. One moment later, he was not altogether sure whether he had only imagined this, as the wandmaker stated in a tone of pronounced dolour, 'I think, sir, it would be – ah – safest if you were to stick with your remarkable sphinx wand.'
~BLHD~
The matter of foreign property and its accidental destruction did not come up for discussion that day, for which Harry felt grateful. True, he was slightly irked at what had happened, but it was not like he had ever intended to use another wand to begin with. His only regret was that in all the turmoil he had quite forgotten to voice his birthday wish and had only remembered once they were at home. After a small sigh, he put that matter to rest. While his gifts were not always very costly, his grandfather had an unprecedented knack for picking out exactly what he wanted. Never had he been truly disappointed with his gifts. Arcturus seemed deep in thought, and they shared a rather silent meal that evening. Harry did not mind, as the silence between him and his family was never heavy, but more of a respectful kind. He felt comfortable thinking about his own and that other wand, which his grandfather had later identified as 'probably holly'.
Deep in thought, he had not realised that his grandfather had been looking at him for several moments, which is why he reacted rather alarmed when Arcturus spoke.
'Harry, about your birthday – do you wish for me to invite our family?'
Harry fought hard to force his face not to show an expression of pain. His grandfather, however, looked slightly amused.
'Do not worry, Harry. I have already anticipated this and spread the word that you – ah – preferred private celebrations. Though I must say that one particular cousin of yours was most vexed.'
Harry winced slightly. He knew exactly which 'cousin' this was; of course he was not blood-related to any of this family, at least not too closely, but he never brought this up, and in turn, he was treated as one of their own. Even his close relatives, who reasonably might have held a grudge against him for usurping their inheritance, were in fact very friendly and protective of the up and coming Lord Black. Their adoration, however, always made him slightly uncomfortable. He simply did not like the attention. And she was the worst. In a way. It's not like she was bad, but she was just so excessively bold and possessive.
'I think I shall write to her that we will be able to see each other at Hogwarts. Maybe I can defuse the situation a bit.' Harry was not entirely sure if this was a good idea, but common courtesy made it a matter of necessity.
'That seems like a splendid idea, young man. From a tactical viewpoint, I also think you should avoid a big drama before your Sorting.' Arcturus chuckled slightly but soon settled his expression into a rather stern frown.
'Once you are comfortable, we shall adjourn to the study. For today's course, I have some rather important things to say.'
Harry nodded and began to wonder just what topic this might be.
~BLHD~
'Sit down, Harry!' called the deep and soft-spoken voice of his adopted grandfather. Harry obliged, albeit slightly nervously so. This was one of their routines. Arcturus always challenged Harry to come up with questions pertaining to anything he could imagine and would always divulge answers in great detail. But, from then on, these subjects were part of the revision he would always put before the queries – and he would always be most displeased if Harry could not remember an acceptable portion.
'Do you recall our conversation about Grindelwald?'
He observed Harry shifting nervously in his chair, nodding eventually.
'Tell me about his fall,' Arcturus probed.
'Eh – Once the government forced Dumbledore into action, Grindelwald fell relatively fast, didn't he? In a matter of some years, at least. In the aftermath, our Ministry, along with several continental ministries, put down some reforms to better battle upcoming threats.'
'Quite,' returned Arcturus, seemingly content so far. 'What do you think denotes the term Darkers, Harry?'
Harry grimaced, 'That's us, right? I mean that is what others call certain families.'
Arcturus brightened up a bit, even though the topic was indeed pretty dark. Harry's implication that he considered himself to be a Black was, even after all these years, still balm for a weary heart.
'Harry, you may not believe me, but that term is fairly common nowadays. You have only ever been in the company of those who arguably also fall prey to this indignation. I assure you, there will be those using it at Hogwarts, and they mean to hurt you.'
Arcturus elected to pause for a bit. Harry's sheltered upbringing may not have prepared him for what actually awaited him out there …
'Listen, Harry. Darkers is a derogatory term stemming from the aftermath of Grindelwald's defeat. Most Muggle-borns and half-bloods were severely displeased with the notional financial and personal support many pure-bloods had allegedly offered the Dark Lord at the beginning of his campaign. Thus, the term was coined as a reprimand meant to exclude many old families from political businesses in the foreseeable future. Sadly, this stigma persists till present day.'
His adopted grandson looked thoughtful. 'So,' Harry said carefully, 'so you might say that we were set up? And that even today old families suffer because they were unjustly accused of supporting the Dark Lord?'
Arcturus hesitated ever so slightly but steeled himself for what he believed to be the only fair course of action. 'No. There were indeed some families that supported Grindelwald. But remember that while those were not nearly in the majority, the indignity of the term encompasses many families very much not guilty.'
He observed Harry's reaction. The boy seemed deep in thought, and it was obvious that the question was on his lips. But he held it in.
'Harry, I told you eight years ago that we would speak openly and plainly during these sessions. If you find my answer dissatisfactory, I urge you to voice your complaints.' After a brief pause, he added, 'We are family, Harry. No secrets, no lies.'
The boy's posture changed, and he looked in his eyes with deep appreciation. The question, however, seemed to pain him still. 'Were the Blacks involved in Grindelwald's support?'
Silence thundered for a few aching moments. Both were highly uncomfortable, though the boy allowed it to be more obvious.
'Yes. My father most foolishly wasted considerable financial assets in an attempt to gain influence over Grindelwald. As expected, however, Grindelwald recognised him for what he was and took all the money he would offer, while holding him at arm's length. In fact, since Grindelwald played his part so well, our family was – as it seems – the last of the British families to cut ties, long after our Ministry passed laws against these precise actions and not very long at all before the Dark Lord's fall.'
Harry looked dejectedly at his feet and muttered, 'Shameful.'
'Indeed.' His own admission managed to put a small smile back into place. Arcturus continued, keeping his voice dreary, 'Harry, this happened before I assumed headship over our house. My own father never had the courage to tell his son about these matters. In fact, I myself assumed them to be false accusations until I made extensive investigations. My father had many faults and few talents. To this day, I am not sure how I should feel about the fact that my own genitor would have been better off an artificer of fraud than a scion of a noble house.' Arcturus had difficulties holding in his temper. Even though he knew his expression remained calm he had the impression that Harry saw through his mask. The boy was unnaturally good at reading him. He would have been worried that a thirteen-year-old could read a retired politician so easily if he was not so proud.
'Listen, Harry. It was not my fault, and it is not yours that our ancestors may have done wrong. We have to live with this knowledge, and we should not forget. There are lessons to be learned in remembering the past. But you must not let your heart succumb to guilt. Guilty is only he who acts or fails to do so, though never can one be guilty by inheritance. You should think about this. In the future, you may even tell some of your friends who earn your complete trust. But you should not feel defensive about this or let your heart be tied down.'
After a small pause, he added, 'I know this is a difficult lesson, but it is critical you understand this. I know for a fact that only two other families had connections as deeply rooted as ours towards Grindelwald's camp; and still, there are about two dozen families suffering under the stigma that was levelled upon us. This is not justice. They are not guilty and neither are we now. My father should have been sent to trial for his actions, as should have been his counterparts, and I tell you this: If I had known these things during his lifetime, I would have been the first to make him stand before the Wizengamot, so that his sentence might have redeemed the rest of our family and a lot of other innocents of the public doubt. Alas – that man was not even fit for that final duty and died not too long after the war, as you are aware.'
It took Arcturus enormous effort to collect himself, but once he did, he looked his grandson in his startling green eyes and held his gaze for several seconds before he softly added, 'I apologise for this most sombre of lessons. Maybe we should continue this tomorrow. Have a good night, Harry.'
His grandfather still looked very unnerved, as Harry – deep in thought himself – stood up. It had indeed been a most sombre lesson. Even so, he did not blame Arcturus, whom he had always known as an individual of candour. Slowly striding forwards, he was almost at the first landing when the voice of his grandfather trailed after him. 'Harry!' he heard the old man calling him softly. He turned slowly towards the sunken figure and answered hesitantly, unsure what to expect, 'Yes, Grandfather?'
Arcturus looked at him, and Harry felt his gaze holding nothing of the stern blankness he always wore in public.
'I am proud of you for asking the difficult questions, son.'
Their eyes met, pearlescent grey and gleaming green. But to Harry, the only colour that mattered was of a darker shade.
AN:
1) Hi there! I am not a big fan of ANs, so I will definitely try to keep this short. This is the first chapter of my new fiction "Black Luminary". I expect the finished work to encompass several hundred thousand words, but I will only post one chapter per week after the initial three. I am currently more than a dozen chapters ahead of schedule, so you may be put at ease; the project will not suddenly dry up.
2) Warning: This story intentionally plays with the expectations of the reader. Usually, I will not give many hints about plotlines that may continue to be relevant for a LONG time. All years of Hogwarts are equally important for me; the whole story should therefore continue to evolve from the start to the end. Don't expect answers to questions I myself may raise in the story; I will never use the ANs to give away the plot.
3) Romantic pairings ... will be complicated. Romance is not exactly the focus of this work, but I will give it due space where needed.
4) English isn't my first language, not even my second. So please do excuse the occasional error that may slip through.
5) While we are on the subject, a mighty thanks to my awesome and patient betas. Your work is very appreciated.
6) Of course, Harry Potter and all associated names, stories, works etc. belong to J.K. Rowling. Please support her official releases.
7) Also, please feel free to tell me what you think. Your suggestions and impressions will help me improve the story.
8) The things that makes my story an AU are mostly history-related. Everything else is just a direct or indirect result of those events. There is one exception, though: Harry's biological grandfather is Charlus Potter in my story. Just keep it in mind.
Best regards
-YakAge