ambivalence

It was one of her more lucid moments. She could hear crying. Sobbing really, though it was clear whomever it was was trying to hide it. It was coming from down the hall; a door, cracked open. It was his. She walked down the corridor to his room. She didn’t rush. There was no point. He wasn’t going anywhere. She came to his door and opened it. Inside the walls were a deep red, with muggle band posters hung up all around. Ordinarily she would have made a fuss, scream at the boy, but there was something different.

On the bed was her boy, barley sixteen. His long black hair was a mess, tangled and oily. His face was pressed into his pillow, though when she approached he started to laugh.

“Moony hates me,” He let out through laughter that was masking sobs. “and it is all my fault. My love hates me. HE HATES ME!” Choked sobs broke through again, and he was laughing heavier than before with tears streaming down his face.

Clearly whatever had happened, he had had his heart broken as a result of it.

She stepped forward, the floorboards creaking as she put her weight down. He turned around, his hair whipping around. His eyes were bloodshot, his face puffy and red making it painfully evident that he was crying. It was a mess. As soon as he saw her he stopped short and made his face hard. She must not have been who he was expecting. Perhaps his brother?

“What do you want?” She remembered him saying as he threw himself against the wall, bouncing on the bed, clutching his hair then running his hands through the tangled locks.

She walked forward and sat, gingerly, on the edge of the bed. Neither moved nor spoke but instead just sat there. He, clutching his hair, looking as if he were about to pull it out, and she, hands folded in her lap and her back straight.

“I do not presume to know what happened.” She began slowly, not meeting his eyes “and I don’t particularly feel the need to know whatever petty drama you have involved yourself in this time, however I can see what it is doing to you.” The boy was a mess, that was clear and it was painful for even her to see.

In response to her words he let out a dry laugh, all his tears already cried out.

Nothing like this would last, she thought, it was probably easier to let whomever it was go. She fixed him with one of her less stern faces, “Whomever he is, he is just a man,” As she said this she rose once again and now stood in front of him. His eyes followed her own as she went to stand in front of him. “You are the Heir to the house of Black, you will not shed tears over such a foolish thing.” Whomever this was didn’t deserve his tears anyway.

As she walked out she paused in the doorway. He was still sitting in that same place, his eyes though fixed in front of him, were blank, dead. She remembered those eyes very clearly.

She saw them once again when that very same boy was in askaban.

She awoke with a start. She’d been dreaming, a memory. It was of an incident when Sirius was in 5th year. She wondered what had caused her to remember, she couldn’t recall anything over the past few days that could have tied into that time or that particular memory. No matter. There was more pressing work to be done than remembering some foolish dream.

She slid out of bed and dressed herself in her usual attire. A casual, long black dress with elements taken from the more elegant of robes. She pulled her hair up into a tidy bun and stepped out of the room. It was once the room she had shared with Orion, and though he was now dead, she saw no reason to move. The room itself was simple, devoid of most of the personal objects others would have, with the only difference between it and the rooms given to the werewolf being the colour of the sheets.

Lupin had gone back to his shabby muggle flat the previous night so that there would be no suspicions from Dumbledore about where he came from when he appeared at wherever it was that that little order was. She still had her doubts about the man’s ability to properly fool the old man or find any information or allies, however, he wasn’t completely disappointing when she met him so there may still be hope.

Walburga made her way downstairs as she had every morning, and sat down in the same chair as she always did. Everything was as it was everyday. The blaze of the floo ripped any dreams of a peaceful morning away from her. She got up and marched towards the floo. Who dared come over to her house uninvited. Who could even get past the wards? The only people who had access were herself, Kreacher, not disowned or imprisoned family members, and after much deliberation, Lupin.

Before he had left he had asked to be allowed access to the house, as coming in person to share news, as long as no one saw him, would be much more secure than even the most warded and bespelled of letters. Even if no one saw the contents of the hypothetical letter, the fact that someone was sending letters to a Black family address would certainly be inviting scrutiny so she had reluctantly agreed.

So the question still stood of who was coming through the floo. It wasn’t herself or Kreacher, she was right there and Kreacher had no use for the floo, and she doubted it would be Lupin as he had only just left so it had to be someone from the family.

Without warning another bright green glow was emitted mere seconds after the first, and a tall, blonde woman stepped out of the floo. Her face was one she had not seen for many years, and though it had aged, she had not lost any of her innate beauty. It was even possible to mistake them for the same age, though she was much older.

“Aunt Cassiopeia, to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

The woman in question looked around for a few moments before finally looking to Walburga and smiling.

“Niece, I see you haven’t gone as mad as the rumours say.”

She bristled at that. The fact was that she was already going mad far before any of the rumours started. If she had say when she couldn’t say, but it was certainly before her children went to Hogwarts. If she was being honest, and only to herself, if she didn’t realise Sirius’s innocence as she had she likely would have lost herself within the year. These were all facts she kept to herself so instead she said,

“I thank you for your concern,” her tone was dry, “but I am perfectly well. May we forgo the niceties and discuss why you are here?” She should have expected this. The week was filled with more conversations than she had in years so of course there had to be more.

Cassiopeia nodded and Walburga took her to what she had now dubbed as ‘the business seats’ which in actuality were simply the set of couches she had used over the past week for the conversations with both Burke and Lupin, hence the name ‘business seats’.

Cassiopeia settled herself into her seat in much the same way she did, her back straight and her hands clasped in her lap. She gave off the impression of a hunting cat, ready to pounce.

“I won’t leave you in suspense dear,” Cassiopeia said, her voice now sickly sweet. “I have simply heard some interesting rumours and wished to see if they were true.”

“Oh,” she raised an eyebrow, “and hearing of my supposed madness wasn’t enough?”

She could feel that familiar bubble of anger rising, the one she had kept so carefully hidden, from Burke when he was asking ridiculous questions (admittedly she didn’t entirely keep her temper then but she didn’t curse him) and Lupin when he was being obstinate. But those restraints seemed to break and crumble whenever her family was involved.

Cassiopeia sighed but continued, “It’s about the rumour that you visited Sirius. We just feel that that is a little out of character.”

She stilled and looked at her aunt with a new steel in her eyes, “We? Are you perhaps referencing grandfather Arcturus?”

“He was always the favourite of all my cousins.” She non-answed but it was enough for Walburga.

“What is it that the two of you want?” She asked. Arcturus had been house and possibly bed bound for at least a year now, so either her son’s imprisonment had snapped him out of it (unlikely) or he was simply in the pocket of Cassiopeia. While it wasn’t a pleasing prospect, as long as she didn’t change the inheritance laws and disown Sirius (as much as she had wanted to in the past Arcturus had never disowned the boy, now at least the house would not die out) she would be amiable to let it be. At least she would be able to converse with the actual head of house.

“We, well, I especially, would have thought that your animosity towards your son would prevent you from ever even conversing with him, even if he was the Dark Lord’s right hand.” Cassiopeia looked around and then added, “I could do with some tea, you have an elf I presume?”

Walburga glared at her cousin and without breaking eye contact called for Kreacher to bring some tea.

“My son was not the Dark Lord’s right hand, anyone with any semblance of observational capability with be able to attest to that. No.” She paused for a few moments, then decided to give the woman opposite her a bone, “What my son was was an absolute fool to join that detestable, conniving old man and then be double crossed, or at the very least abandoned .”

“Oh? Do tell.” Cassiopeia relaxed slightly, a teacup and saucer in her hands.

“For free? It would do you good to remember that I am a Black, Aunt. I am well aware of how the game works.”

Cassiopeia let out a small laugh and set down her cup, the saucer clinking as she set it down.

“I see you haven’t forgotten, very well. I will offer the help you will need to free your son and any problems you may have afterwards. Meddling old men included.”

“I would presume you have a reason to do so, family can’t be the only reason you want to help the boy, otherwise Bellatrix would be out already.”

Both women made a sour face at the thought of their niece. While family (and maybe that was the problem) she had inherited the worst kind of madness.

“Bellatrix was so clearly guilty that there was nothing to be done. Additionally she was also quite mad. I will admit, however, that I do have ulterior motives to wanting Sirius’s freedom.” At this she paused to look at Walburga before she continued, “It is true that I want to help him because he is family. We have always stood by family. However, times are changing.”

“Oh?” Walburga raised an eyebrow, “and how does Sirius factor into that?”

Cassiopeia donned a more serious expression, this certainly wasn’t just a visit.

“The house is dying. Andromeda has been disowned for years for marrying a mudblood while her daughter is a metamorphmagus. Narcissa has married of into the Malfoy family, Bellatrix is in prison as you have so accurately pointed out, Regulus is dead,” Walburga flinched ever so slightly at the name of her youngest,” and the rest of the family are in their own similar predicaments. Sirius is the last chance we have of making it through this war with any shred of dignity intact, because Arcturus certainly won’t do it. I am not going to loose him.”

Cassiopeia was extremely desperate it seemed, to lay the situation out so plainly was the closest most Blacks could come to asking for help. And proclaiming Sirius as the houses last hope was the epitome of desperation.

“Sirius?” She questioned, “Sorted into Griffindor, friends with mudbloods and blood traitors alike, that is the man you want to lead you into the future?”

“It almost sounds like you don’t want your son to be freed Walburga.” Cassiopeia looked at her, a weak smile plaguing her lips.

“I merely want to be sure I understand your intentions. How can you be sure he will even take up the lordship? I would have done my utmost whether you had come or not to make him become Lord Black, Arcturus I doubt will be an issue,” At this she locked eyes with her aunt and received a small nod, “but there is still the issue of getting him to agree.”

Cassiopeia sighed but conceded, “It is a risk I must take, as he is yours I will leave you to convince him, if he can be convinced, though I will help however I can.”

“Very well.” Walburga sighed.

Cassiopeia stood and said her farewells to both her and Kreacher. It almost seemed like she knew the old elf, with how old he was and his entire life in service to the Black family they very well might. She disappeared through the floo in a flash of emerald flames and left her once again, alone in the house.

She moved back and sat in her personal chair, engrossed in thought.

How was she to convince him to take up the lordship? It couldn’t be simply because she asked him, he would likely turn around and walk out of the door. She looked around, trying to find inspiration for some shred of an idea when her eyes landed on the very newspaper that had started everything. She picked it up and half-heartedly read through it once more. It held no new information, infact it didn’t even focus on her son after the first few paragraphs, more so on the infant son of Lily and James Potter, and the godson of Sirius Black?

She stood up abruptly and began pacing, her hand in a fist at her chin.

So Sirius had a godson, he would be the child’s guardian now, this was the perfect thing. Sirius would no doubt want the very best for that child, and having ‘the-boy-who-lived’ as a Black would certainly bolster their reputations in both factions, the light for housing their saviour and the dark for ‘corrupting’ the light’s saviour.

However that could all wait, first they had to acquit Sirius. Perhaps Lupin found something.