Chapter Text
August 1949
Ezra jumped in his seat when Cole appeared at his elbow, startling him from a tedious but necessary overview of their current investments.
“The Mistresses cousin be at the floo asking for you, Master.”
“Which cousin?” Ezra queried hesitantly.
“The Master Cygnus.”
He felt his shoulders drop in response; he’d been sure it was going to be Cassiopeia for no other reason than to needle him. “Bring him though if you please.”
His elf nodded and disappeared, returning with a blank-faced Cygnus
“Ezra,” he inclined his head as he sat.
Returning the gesture, Ezra remained silent, waiting to see what the other man wanted. “My cousin is a rather interesting witch,” he ventured.
“Indeed..”
“This will be a much less tedious conversation if you participate,” Cygnus groused before sighing. “Tom dislikes her.”
“I know,”
“And you intend to let that stand?”
“I intend to determine what he plans to do about his dislike.”
Cygnus hummed, “We both know that honeyed words or no, Tom is far more ruthless than he would like us to notice.”
“I am aware.” Ezra agreed lightly.
Cygnus’ eyes narrowed. “Blacks look out for their own,” he stated, looking him unflinchingly in the eye.
“Your sister might disagree,” Ezra returned blandly.
Surprisingly, Cygnus gave a huff of laughter before he let out a groan, “Honestly, she never used to be so…bullheaded.”
“Oh?”
“You have been acquainted with Walburga for years!”
“Yes, and while I have never seen her as wilfully rude as she was to my wife when they met, I am aware that her stubbornness and willingness to voice her opinion is not new. Her views were….similar to my own before Hermione demanded I see sense.”
“Her rudeness was unforgivable and mother thoroughly chastised her for it, but Father….Father indulges Walburga and his views are hardly progressive. He was horrified by the idea of witches duelling, even after mother reminded him that she was capable and so, to a certain extent, was my sister.”
“To a certain extent?”
“Oh she knows the spells,” Cygnus waved him off, “But she is hardly proficient as she will not practice for fear of being considered unseemly. Based on Dru’s recounts, I imagine my cousin would have her annihilated in under a minute.”
“She is rather vicious,” Ezra agreed with a fond smile on his face.
Silently, Cygnus shook his head, “And you approve.”
“I rather like the idea of her remaining alive,” he countered. “This world is not safe. We arm children with weapons long before they have learned to yield them responsibly. And that is before we consider those old enough to know better who raise their wands far quicker than they raise their voices for a discussion.”
“I imagine she is likely to upset a few people.”
“A few,” Ezra retorted scathingly. “My wife is arming witches. She is pushing for muggleborn integration. If she gets her way, creature rights will be next. I would not be surprised if I find myself spending the next decade disposing of the threats or helping her hide the bodies after she does it herself.”
“You think she could kill?” Cygnus queried with no small amount of poorly concealed shock.
“Of course she could, that witch is as vicious as they come. I was relatively certain at one point that she was going to murder me while I slept. I haven't ruled it out if I truly displease her.”
Cygnus stared at him uncomprehendingly. “And you claim to love the witch.”
“I do. Which is why I intend to remain on her good side.”
“Good gods,” Cygnus muttered, staring at him in horror. “That is….most of our set would have shipped their wife off to the continent at the first hint of murder.”
Ezra laughed, “Yes, I imagine they would. Although I do wonder if we would have less trouble now if they did not. Merlin knows my wife in a snit is a terrifying sight. It reminds me to behave myself.” Cygnus mouthed the words to his last sentence back to him, looking faintly stupefied. “Now, was there a reason for your visit?” he checked when it became clear that Cygnus had no idea how to proceed.
Shaking off his stupor, Cygnus gathered his scattered wits. “Yes, Tom and his plan for my cousin.”
Ezra hummed, nodding. “I imagine that at least to begin with we need to cultivate a world where Tom's extremism has no place.”
“Is it extremism?”
“I believe it will end that way.” Ezra replied carefully.
“Oh?”
He arched a pointed eyebrow, “Tom currently wishes for political control. However, not even the Minister has complete control and I think that is rather his eventual aim. My concern is what lengths he would go to to achieve it.”
Cygnus scrutinised him, “Do you truly believe it will come to that?”
“I think we should prepare for it in case it does.”
“Well then, Lord Nott, what exactly is your current plan?”
Taking a chance, Ezra gave Cygnus some of the more benign plans, knowing that if any got back to Tom, it would be obvious where it had come from. By the look on the man's face, he knew it too, although, should it come to it, Ezra very much intended to spin it as helping Tom get what he wanted. He wasn't stupid; he wasn't sharing anything overly contentious until he knew whether or not he could trust this man.
Two hours later, Cygnus stood, “Expect my wife's owl, I imagine it is time I spent more time getting to know my cousin.” He pulled a face suddenly, “Perhaps including Alphard would help.”
“Undoubtedly,” Ezra grumbled, “Pair of gossips that they are.”
Giving a slight laugh, Cygnus held out his hand. “Merlin preserve us. Azriel is thankfully a much more sensible wizard.” he nodded, turning smartly back to the floo, “Lord Nott.”
Hermione tried not to fidget as she met her Uncle's unrelenting stare. “I had some curious owls recently.
“Oh?”
“Cassiopeia and Lycoris mainly, although Charis, Callidora, and Dorea have also owled.”
“About?” she hedged.
“Your duelling.”
“Ah.”
“Yes ah. Cassie in particular is not convinced that she is not missing something. In light of that I was forced to give your request some real thought.” he paused, “I do not like it but call Lady Malfoy here so I can test her shields. We will tell them all at once.”
“Now?”
Arcturus eyed his niece, surprised to see the uncertainty on her face. “Yes now.” She nodded and went to rise. “Hermione?”
“Uncle Arcturus?”
“This was your suggestion.”
“I know,” she whispered, “I just...I never really had female friends and…what if…what if my being a muddblood is too much?”
He faltered slightly, hearing the slur before he processed what she’d said. “Then she is no friend,” he countered. Hermione hummed, not looking at him, her expression a slightly nauseating mix of anxiety, fear and resignation before it blanked completely, “Hermione?”
Her head rose reluctantly, her thoughts concealed behind shuttered eyes. “If everything I have heard about the time you spend together is true, she will not hate you.”
“She might,” Hermione murmured.
He sighed before commanding, “Go and request her presence.” He had never been one for knowing how to comfort another after all. Instead, he sent an elf to his brother. He, at least, appeared to have some sort of handle on the girl.
Selene looked faintly wary as she sat down in Arcturus’ office. She had no idea why she was here, but Regulus Black was watching her closely, and Hermione was utterly blank. It was more than a little disconcerting. She remained silent through sheer force of will as they waited. What they were waiting for, she hadn't the faintest idea, but there was a feeling of nervous anticipation thrumming throughout the room that she couldn't ignore.
Alphard's appearance brought another wave of confusion that left her pondering silently as she tried to work out what in the name of Merlin she had missed.
“How…intriguing, Cousin,” the strident tone of Cassiopeia startled her out of her thoughts. “I took the liberty of collecting Lycoris on my way.”
They all remained silent as the two witches bustled in and took their seats. “Interesting mix, darling niece,” Lycoris murmured, “Are you going to explain our summons?”
Hermione made a faint, abortive noise before sighing. “After a vow.”
“And a testing of shields,” Regulus’ voice was far harder than any of the witches had heard it, and Selene watched as Cassiopeia's eyebrow arched slowly.
“Testing of shields, Cousin?” she scoffed.
“Do it or get out.”
“Father…”
“No!” he barked, “I understand why you have requested this but it is risky. And I refuse to take unnecessary risks with you.”
“Alright, Father,” Hermione soothed, standing so she could slide her arm through his. He seemed to slump, turning to her beseechingly.
“I cannot do it again.”
They all watched as Hermione deflated, an expression of pain-filled understanding flooding her face, “It is not going to happen again.”
“It might.”
With a sigh, Hermione wrapped her arms around him as the rest of the room watched in varying degrees of surprise as Regulus returned the embrace tightly, his fear palpable. “It won’t”
“This puts you at risk.”
“My being here at all puts me at risk,” she countered gently, pulling back to look at him.
He sighed, tugging her back, “Why will you not allow us to keep you safe until it is over?” he muttered despite knowing there was no world in which she'd ever allow it.
“Because it is not me,”
“I know,” he agreed reluctantly. “That does not mean I have to like it.”
Letting him go, her expression was fond. “Ridiculous man.”
“You love me anyway.”
“I know,” she agreed, “Doesn't make you any less ridiculous.”
He hummed, forcing the words out despite the audience and his almost overwhelming discomfort. “I love you too, dearest. Do try not to get yourself murdered.”
Thankful she wasn't facing the room, Hermione tried to keep the shock from her face, seeing it, he gave a wry smile, tucking her arm through his. “Shall we begin?”
“What vow?” Lycoris demanded, her eyes on her brother and her niece.
“A vow to me, as your Head of House,” Arcturus drew her focus, “Lady Malfoys will of course have to be slightly different.”
Her eyes narrowed, “Is it truly necessary?”
“I would hardly be asking if it was not Lycoris.” Arcturus bit out impatiently. “Merlin's teeth, Lucretia asked less questions.”
“Lucretia is your child,” she countered, “However, she has taken the vow?”
“She has.” he confirmed.
“Very well then.”
“Who do you wish to test your shields?”
“We get a choice,” Cassie muttered peevishly before shrugging at the look on Regulus’ face. “I could not care less, just test the damn things and then tell us what is going on!”
“Very well,” Arcturus murmured.
All three witches watched him warily once he was done. Alphard, however, was watching Hermione, his expression contemplative. “You are all sufficient, thank Merlin,” Arcturus announced with no small measure of relief, “Now the vow.”
“What, in the name of all that is magic, would require a vow with that much detail?” Cassiopeia demanded once he was done, her eyes on her youngest cousin, who was still clutching her father's arm.
“Something rather Earth shattering, no?” Alphard mused.
“You could say that,” Arcturus agreed.
“Well then, spit it out!” Cassie demanded.
Hermione blew out a breath. “Ezra did Call me.”
“I was not aware that was up for debate, darling niece.” Lycoris retorted, her eyes narrowing.
“He called me from 1998.”
The room seemed to freeze, an unnatural stillness falling as four surprised faces stared at her.
“1998,” Selene murmured, her thoughts moving so quickly she struggled to grasp them. “Abraxas knows.”
“Yes, he was there the night I was Called.”
“And you know both Tom and Dumbledore.”
Hermione shuddered. “After a fashion.”
Selene nodded before exhaling loudly, “Well, that does explain rather a lot, dear.”
“Who did you belong to originally?” Lycoris checked, her face still ashen and disbelieving.
“I’m muggleborn.”
Alphard's jaw dropped before any of the rest had time to process that statement and then he began to laugh. “Merlin's tits are you really?”
“Yes.”
“And now you're a Black,” he mused.
“Quite. Your future nephew would have found it hilarious.”
“Knew him well?”
“He was my best friend's godfather. Yes. I knew him reasonably well.”
“This is…frankly this is utterly unbelievable.” Lycoris spluttered. “I…what…what made you adopt her?”
“How could I not?” Regulus shrugged, eyeing his sister. “She is bright, vicious and determined.”
Lycoris nodded slowly, eyeing Hermione, “I think you had better start at the beginning.”
“I imagine it is a rather impressive story,” Cassie murmured.
Haltingly, Hermione complied, giving the bones of her life, what she knew of this time, watching the varying expressions cross their faces and wondering if, at the end, she’d still have them in her life.
The silence that fell after she was finished felt stifling and she couldn't read the expression on any of their faces. Alphard was the first to move, tugging her into a hug so tight something popped. “It changes nothing,” he murmured low enough only she could hear. “You are my cousin, you are a Black and we’re going to give them hell for what your versions did.”
Squeezing him back tightly, Hermione refused to cry but allowed the relief that one of them was accepting to cut through some of the fear.
Cassie stood next, looking faintly awkward, a look she had not associated with the witch until now. She fidgeted slightly before thrusting out her hand for Hermione to shake. “I do not cuddle.” Startled, Hermione laughed. “However, I am not entirely emotionally stunted, so I will speak plainly. You are a Black. You are my cousin's daughter and a formidable witch. If anything, I think I am more impressed than I was before and it certainly goes a long way to explaining your dueling style.”
Lycoris was nodding behind her, looking tearful as she cupped Hermione's face, “I would really rather like not to believe you,” she sighed, “You are brave. You are deadly, and you are resilient. I have never been so proud of a family member. You, my darling niece, are everything a Black witch should be.” When Hermione's lip wobbled, Lycoris continued fiercely, “And you are not going to cry because Arcturus would never let me forget it if I joined you!”
Giving a choked laugh, Hermione attempted to comply as her aunt brushed the tears away, before looking at her brother. “Occasionally, brother, you are not an idiot.”
“Such high praise, sister,” he teased.
She scoffed. “Forgive me if I am surprised.”
He gave a good-natured huff of laughter, “Such little faith.”
“Born from years of experience,” she shot back, moving from Hermione when Selene cleared her throat.
“Well then, dear,” She began, looking momentarily lost, before straightening her spine. “I imagine you will be a formidable godmother to my son and you will ensure he is less of an idiot than Abraxas and I apparently managed.” Her face crumpled, “How can you bear to be in our house?”
“With difficulty,” Hermione admitted.
“My grown son watched a teenager be tortured on our drawing room floor, he sold his son and his dignity.” She blew out a breath, her shoulders slumping, “I am ashamed of a child who is not yet born. I am ashamed of us. What in the name of Merlin did Brax and I do to the boy for him to believe that was an acceptable way to behave?”
Hermione shrugged awkwardly, “Abraxas followed Tom too, and once you were in, you were in. It was likely you had little choice.”
“No.” she shook her head, “We will not be accepting that. For heaven's sake I refuse to be the weak link. Now what are you doing about Tom?”
“I imagine murdering him at some point soon,” Hermione retorted.
Selene snorted before she began to laugh, only her slightly hysterical edge giving away her unease. “How you were not born a Black, I will never know.”
“I question it all the time,” Regulus muttered.
“How…how are you all alright with this….?”
Lycoris eyed her shrewdly, “Technically, darling niece, the moment you completed the ritual you became pureblooded, you would not be the first, nor I imagine will you be the last. However, I meant what I said, you are exactly what a Black witch should be, regardless of your pedigree.”
“I agree,” Selene voiced, still looking unsure, “My own grandmother was blood adopted in, it is no secret that it happens. Discreetly, it is not often discussed unless there is a need but we all know. And…Hermione, by all rights you should despise us all and yet here you are ensuring that what happened before will not again. I could not care less what your blood status is, you have become…a very dear friend and I cannot imagine how dull my life would be without you in it. It does however mean that when I murder my husband for keeping this from me I will expect help to hide his body.”
Hermione snorted, “You do not want to murder him, it would be too quick. You have to torture him for a while first so he really learns his lesson.”
The room stilled before Alphard laughed, “I truly have no idea how you were not born to us.”
“Is this where we discuss the squib theory, dearest?” Regulus checked.
“Squib theory?” Cassie demanded.
“One of the prevailing schools of thought in my time was that muggleborns came from Squibs, however distantly. The advances in muggle science are astronomical and putting some of that into a magical setting, there were queries as to how else muggleborns came to be. Of course, it discards the notion that magic is sentient. I confess it was not a theory I had heard until I came here, it is not taught. Pureblood beliefs are not shared with incoming muggleborns and I had never heard it described as such before my Father discussed how the Calling ritual brought me here.”
There were several beats of silence. “And now?” Alphard checked.
“I don't know,” Hermione admitted. “Either we belong to already established families or magic itself is blessing us, either way, the decimation, degradation and complete lack of regard for muggleborns is an insult.”
“Mother of Merlin,” Arcturus breathed. “I never even considered….”
“No,” Hermione's mouth twitched into an amused smile. “It is a rather interesting theory and I desperately want to test it.”
“Allow me, Cousin,” Cassiopeia cut in “You are rather busy pushing several boundaries. If I take this on there will be little push back. I am known for my experimentations after all.”
“Very well,” Hermione agreed with clear reluctance, “although I would like to be at least minimally involved.”
“Quietly,” Selene cautioned.
“Yes, quietly,” Hermione agreed, “Lucretia has already warned me against pushing too hard, too fast.”
“I am aware, we merely thought we would have to reiterate it several times before you listened.”
Hermione's expression shifted to offended so quickly that Regulus had to stifle a laugh, “I am capable of reading a room!”
“Yes, until your enthusiasm and frustration takes over,” the other witch agreed.
She scowled, unable to contradict her. “At least there are enough of us to ensure that never happens publicly,” Lycoris offered with a smirk. “Now, darling, I rather think that we’ve had enough excitement for one day, shall we go and do something frivolous and decadent, tomorrow we can begin a timeline that allows for all the changes you know we need and keeps the stuffy old men in charge placated.”
Hermione's shoulders lost their tension as she considered that, “Like what?”
“Lunch,” Selene declared, “With champagne.”
“In the garden,” Alphard threw in.
“Why?”
“Because we all know that the weather is about to turn, let's make the most of it.”
“Whose garden?” Lycoris looked intrigued.
“Hermione's little walled one. Her husband hasn’t the faintest idea what to do with either you or I. We can invite Lucretia.”
“Splendid.” Lycoris’ grin was slightly alarming and Hermione startled at the feeling of Selene hooking her arm through hers, “Come along then, dear. We can stop by the Manor and relieve Abraxas of a few bottles.”
“I will acquire my other niece.” Lycoris declared, striding out of the room.
“I do like champagne,” Cassie mused.
Feeling a mix of overwhelmed, railroaded and relieved, Hermione shot her father a look that had him looking far too amused for comfort before Slelene manoeuvred her out of the door and towards the floo, Alphard and Cassie following.
“Poor Ezra,” Arcturus murmured into the silence.
Regulus waved him off, “It is high time that boy was knocked out of his comfort zone.”
“You do not believe your daughter has managed that?”
“Of course she has, but he would become complacent if she did not continue.”
Arcturus gave a bark of laughter. “It went…rather better than I had anticipated.” he hedged.
“Anyone with eyes knows Lycoris adored her on sight. She and Selene Malfoy see each other almost daily…I am not altogether surprised. I am surprised Selene admitted that Delphinia Travers was blood adopted.”
“Yes, that was rather a surprise.”
“At what point do we tell them that our Pollux was an adopted half-blood?”
Arcturus spluttered for a moment, “I imagine at some point when in Walburga's hearing? I understand she has become particularly rabid.”
“Yes, it might go some way to settling her down.”
“Or it might not,” Arcturus shrugged, “Merlin knows it hardly matters, his adoption was a necessity to break the curse Ambrose Avery cast on Uncle Cygnus.”
“He could have contented himself with daughters.”
“Until the end of his line?” Arcturus checked. “You know he could not. None of his line would have another male child until they adopted. There was no way he was allowing that to happen.”
“I happen to be rather fond of my line ending with a daughter,” he mused.
“Yes brother, but you are questionably sane and your daughter is a terrifying hellion. Any son you may acquire now would be browbeaten within an inch of his life until he capitulated to his sister's whims.”
Regulus hummed, “She makes me…regret that she has not always been mine.”
Arcturus was quiet for a moment, “I imagine that she does,” he agreed, “However, it is clear that the witch adores you. We live rather a long time, Regulus, you have time with her now.”
“Yes,” he sighed before brightening, “And hopefully a Quidditch team's worth of grandchildren.”
Arcturus paled, “Merlin help us, I was rather hoping they would content themselves with one or two. Our world is not ready for that many children raised by your daughter!”
He wasn't sure what to make of the way Regulus laughed, trying to shove down his horror at the thought of that many uncontrollable children infiltrating their world.
After an afternoon in her garden, filled with champagne, laughter and sly questions that had her husband alternating between blushing and bristling, followed by a day discussing tactics and timelines, Hermione followed Colby into her father's dining room for their weekly dinner.
“Dearest, do come in,” Regulus called, clearly hearing their footsteps.
“Father?” Hermione queried warily. He was almost buzzing which was alarming.
“We’re having a guest for dinner.
“Oh?” Hermione glanced at her husband, seeing he was as surprised as she was.
Jock appeared moments later, “The Masters guest be here.”
A timid looking man appeared behind the elf. He was short, baby faced and if Hermione had to guess, she’d put him around his late twenties to mid-thirties. “Ah! Professor Croaker!” Regulus beamed, “Come in!” Hermione turned to stare at her father in disbelief. “I did say I planned to cultivate him dearest,” he chided.
“Might I inquire as to why?” Saul hedged.
“Why indeed.” Regulus mused, “Perhaps I just had a good feeling. Now, forgive my manners. My daughter Hermione and her husband Ezra.”
Saul managed a faintly tremulous smile “It is ah…nice to meet you.”
“You too, Professor,” Hermione offered as her husband inclined his head, “Your arithmancy theories on the stabilisation of time to allow for short distance turning without accelerated ageing were interesting.
Saul froze. “You've read my theories?”
“In the Arithmancer and New Theoretical Magic,” she agreed, “I was interested in Abner Travers' argument that it could be adapted for aging and regression potions, especially if one could physically turn back time within the body. I imagine that the possibilities for healing life threatening injuries would be almost limitless.”
Saul blinked, his jaw hanging before he closed it with an audible clack. At her side, both Ezra and Regulus looked amused. “Forgive me, what did you say your name was?”
“Hermione Nott,” she nodded at Regulus, “Previously Black.”
“Hermione Nott.” he repeated, “Lady Hermione Nott?”
“Guilty as charged,.” she offered a bland smile.
“The same Lady Hermione Nott who sat her NEWTs recently.”
“Ah, Yes. I did.”
“You caused quite a stir in the Ministry with those results.”
“Oh?” He arched a disbelieving eyebrow, making her laugh. “I do not hold with this notion that witches should be limited.”
“So I was hearing,” Saul agreed, sitting down next to her. “You've truly read my theories?”
“Yes,” she agreed.
“And do you plan to use your impressive number of NEWTs?”
“I intend to get a Mastery or two ...or three.” she shrugged, “we live a rather long time, I imagine I can fit in a few.”
Her husband groaned, “Must you, darling?”
“Yes.” she nodded once.
“Masteries in what?” Saul checked, deciding he wasn't involving himself in that conversation.
“Arithmancy perhaps, charms has always been an interest. I would rather like to consider Defence Against the Dark Arts, but I gather I have a bit of work to do first if I also intend a family.”
“And to remain in the country,” Regulus pointed out, “Galatea Merrythought had to go to Russia for her Mastery, no Master in Britain would consent to apprentice a witch.”
“I am aware,” Hermione agreed, “Idiots that they are.”
Saul nodded thoughtfully, “How do you feel about the Department of Mysteries?”
“Your uncle would avada you,” Regulus warned, “No government jobs!”
Hermione pouted, leaving Saul choking back a laugh, “How do you feel about an apprenticeship that necessitates you visiting the DOM without the…government job?”
“I could be persuaded,” she agreed, watching as his face lit up.
“This is not what I had in mind when I invited him, dearest,” Regulus grumbled.
“How sad,” Hermione shot back “Because it appears to be what is happening.”
“Hermione,” he whined slightly piteously. “Have mercy on my poor old fashioned beliefs.”
“You believe witches should be limited?”
“No!” he grumbled, “I believe that no Black witch has ever held a position working for the Ministry.”
“Perhaps it is time they did,” she mused, “We would get things done, if nothing else.”
At that, Saul outright laughed, “Oh, I think we’re going to get on splendidly, Lady Nott.”
“Hermione,” she countered.
“Do I get a say in this, darling?” Ezra drawled.
“Why on Earth would you?” she frowned, making Saul choke.
“No reason at all, darling,” Ezra drawled, “Just societal expectations.”
“You are well aware of what I believe society can do with those expectations, husband.”
“Quite.” he agreed resignedly.
Saul struggled to contain his smile, “Wonderful, shall we say Monday, Lady Nott?”
“Hermione,” she reiterated, “And yes, nine?”
“I look forward to it, Hermione. Now. What room would you like to begin in?”
No one would ever believe him, but Saul could have sworn that Lord Nott groaned in utter defeat as his wife excitedly ruminated on the merits and pitfalls of each department. He was so intrigued that he forgot to question how exactly she was aware of them all.
Three days later, Orion eyed the witches warily, not at all sure what to make of his inclusion in their rather larger than he had expected gathering. His new cousin was holding court with Selene Malfoy, several of their other cousins, with groups of witches from prominent families in clusters around the room.
His mother cleared her throat, drawing their attention, “As discussed, my son Orion is here to look over our plans to ensure they are ready for the Wizengamot.” There were murmurs around the room, combined with a few looks that were a little too knowing for comfort, leaving Orion fighting the urge to squirm.
His mother pointed to a desk in the corner. “I suggest you read our proposal and then we will convene for questions lest you need to make changes.”
“Of course Mother,” he murmured, questioning quietly before she moved to leave, “Walburga did not want to be involved? She has such strong opinions on the education of children.”
“I am aware,” Melania returned dryly, “But no. She turned down Hermione's invitation.”
“I see,” he mused, turning that over inside his head. His mother hummed, leaving him to the dense stack of parchment that contained the witches proposal.
Two hours later, he let out a sigh, his head all but bursting with the sheer volume of information they had crammed into the pages.
“Done, brother?” Lucretia checked, clearly spotting his movement.
“Yes.” he agreed slowly, “Lucretia…is this in all seriousness?”
“Of course it is! Why would it not be?”
“You are discussing bringing muggleborns into this, our world.”
“Their world too, surely,” she replied lightly, “They do, after all, have magic.”
“But where did they get it from!” he replied, frustrated.
“We do not know,” Lucretia admitted, “Hermione theorised that perhaps it came from displaced squibs.”
“Displaced squibs…Mother of Morgana.”
Lucretia shrugged, “It is hardly confirmed. I believe Cassie was going to look into it and I gather Hermione was going to request Professor Croaker raise it with the Department of Mysteries.”
“How on earth does our cousin know Professor Croaker?”
“Oh, Uncle Reggie appears to be cultivating him. I gather he has him pegged as department head in a few years.”
“Professor Croaker?” Are you sure?”
“He seems to think so. I have never met the wizard.”
“I have. It seems…surprising.”
“I shall take your word for it.” Lucretia deflected, “Now shall we have a proper discussion?”
“Lucretia,” he groaned, “How do you expect the Wizengamot to take this?”
“I have no idea, surely that is why you are here?”
His eyes narrowed, “Why me, Lu? And not father or Uncle Reggie? Or Merlin, even Charlus Potter, or Abraxas….or Ezra. All of whom appear more taken with our cousins madcap plans than I would likely be.”
“Why not ask your cousin yourself?” she shot back.
“Me, I assume?” Hermione checked, materialising beside Lucretia.
“Yes, Orion wanted to know why him and not your husband or well, any number of wizards who actually like you.”
Orion flushed scarlet at her bluntness even as his cousin laughed. “Truthfully, cousin?” she pinned him with a look, “I find your betrothed's attitude and opinions deplorable. This was a reconnaissance mission to see if you were similarly unredeemable.”
His jaw dropped, a look of haughty offence stealing over his face. “Madam I…”
She arched a brow, “Do you know me at all, Cousin?”
“Well…no.” he sputtered. “But I have heard…”
“You have heard but did not come to see if the rumours were true.” she countered. “I was recently informed by your soon to be brother-in-law that Blacks look out for their own.”
“Well Alphard,” he sneered.
“Cygnus,” she cut him off sharply, forcibly removing the wind from his sails.
“Cygnus?” he wheezed.
“Quite. I met a Mr Riddle who saw fit to insult me over dinner, Cygnus was not amused.”
“Tom insulted you?” he frowned, “Why?”
She waved him off, “My attire was apparently unseemly.”
“And was it?” Lucretia
“It was floor length with sleeves and a high neckline! It was hardly scandalous.”
“Then what was his issue?”
“Cora Rowle speculated that I could not be wearing undergarments as there was no line. As if we do not have glamour charms for such a thing!”
Orion choked at the same time Lucretia laughed.
“Cora Rowle is..an acquired taste.”
“Yes. Mr Riddle appeared to find her delightful.”
Her cousin's expression left her in no doubt what she thought about that.
Turning back to Orion, she smiled blandly, “Now, do you have questions for me or shall we begin?”
“What are you doing?” he blurted.
A confused expression filtered over her face, “In what way?”
“In every way! You appear from nowhere, we had no idea you existed and now all of a sudden you are everywhere, meddling in government, education and proper witches' lives.”
Her face shut off immediately, her voice carefully controlled, “Proper witches?”
He flushed, “I mean…”
“Oh no, Cousin, do not back down now.”
He reddened further but squared his shoulders, “You are loud, meddling, undignified and an embarrassment to our name.”
“Orion!”
Hermione held up a hand, silencing Lucretia, “No. Let him finish.”
“You are upsetting centuries of tradition, corrupting proper witches, you have all but emasculated your husband, your father should be ashamed! Grown and married or not, if any daughter of mine behaved in such a manner I would have her punished like the child was acting like. If that did not work I would have to seriously consider disownment! If you have managed to upset Mr Riddle, a man who has promised himself entirely to the betterment of our world, then I can only conclude that your behaviour was unacceptable. Merlin alone knows what you have done to Cygnus, I will be having words and so help me Cousin, if I find any sort of bedazzlement, I will insist Father deals with you properly!”
Hermione hummed, “I see. Very well. I imagine your time here is at an end, Orion. It has been…enlightening.”
She stood abruptly, the parchments soaring into her hand in a display of silent, wandless magic before turning on her heel and re-joining one of the groups.
His sister stared at him in utter horror. “I wanted to believe you were not irredeemable.” She swallowed visibly, her eyes glassy. “Do I not deserve to have a voice, Orion? Do I not deserve to have the skills to defend myself? To be allowed knowledge and the right to determine how I use it? Are you really so blinded that you believe you are better than me? Than Mother?”
“I did not say better, Lucretia.” he retorted stiffly, “Different perhaps…”
“Different how?” She cut him off sharply.
“Witches tend to be emotional creatures. It makes them ill suited to work and further education in many branches. Just look at this hairbrained scheme, Lucretia! Integrating muggleborns puts us all at risk, and that is before we consider their weaknesses. You are aware that there is a school of thought that believes they steal magic? That they are directly responsible for squibs?”
“How?” she shot back.
“Well I do not quite….”
“No, you have no idea! But you are furthering the idiocy. If muggles were capable, would they not steal it for themselves as well as their children?”
“Well I….perhaps you can only do it once.”
“Surely they would take it for themselves and teach their children once they were able? Or are you now implying that babies have the skill to strip magic from us?”
“No!” He spluttered. “I just…they make no sense! And they are a risk!”
“No one is denying that. It is why we are looking at a school that would prevent their accidental magic from being seen by other muggles.”
His face twisted into a sneer, “And allow them around our children? Muggles are barbarians, Lucretia. They are uncouth, mannerless and I refuse to have anything to do with legislation that will force me to allow them to corrupt any children I may have.” he stood, “I apologise, but I will not be able to help.”
Her mother materialised at her side seconds later, her face hard. “Orion Arcturus Black.” he froze. “I will not force you to help. However I want you to ask yourself, In the time you spent at Hogwarts, how many muggleborns did you get to know? Truly get to know? Did you reach out? Teach them our ways? Or did you sneer at them and consider them beneath you? I do not want an answer, I rather fear I might hex you if you answer now.” he looked slightly stunned, “The world changes, constantly. Are you content to remain behind, or will you educate yourself?” She shook her head. “You are my son, and I love you. But I cannot say that I currently like you. Go.”
“That could have gone better.” Lucretia voiced as Orion left in a flurry of robes.
Melania sighed. “I am worried that the future will play out exactly as Hermione described, or…not at all.”
“Not at all?” Lucretia frowned.
“Sirius was not born until 1959. I rather fear that given the world we are creating, he will not be born at all.”
She turned on her heel, her mask in place, offering apologies to the ladies for her son's rudeness.
“I will do everything I can to ensure he is born, Lucretia.”
Her cousin's voice startled her. “Why?”
Hermione's smile was sad, “Because I cannot imagine a world where Sirius Black never existed. He deserved…far more than he got the first time around.”
“And if you cannot…”
“I…” Hermione paused, “I have no idea. It is utterly unthinkable.”
Lucretia nodded, knowing that there were no guarantees but deciding that, for just now, she'd allow her cousin's words to soothe her fears.