A Couple Unusual Wednesdays
Astronomical Dawn, 7 July, 1875
First Light was just peeking over the horizon, opacifying the heavens over the sleeping city of Oxford when the sky became quickly overshadowed by the rapid encroachment of deep, black storm clouds. They came streaming in from all directions and converging on Number 17 Black Hall Road.
As the storm clouds undulated, a purple glow emanated from the center masse, and cast a faint light across the entire town. If any of the students or residents of Oxford were awake to witness it, they could only have described it as supernatural, but this early Wednesday morning didn’t just seem supernatural, it was.
Downright auspicious really…
But ever since Dr. Robert Black and Mrs. Iola Black, a dashing Archeologist and his beautiful black-haired bride, had moved into Auntie Lyra’s house five years ago from London, a strange occurrence takes place at least twice per term in and around Number 17, however, the Oxonians all look the other way for some reason, and no one talks about it.
The black clouds swirled, the purple glow intensified and a crash of thunder at exactly 4 o’clock startled Iola awake, or at least she believed it to be the storm. A sharp pain disabused her of that notion as she remembered she was pregnant, due at any time, and had gone into labor.
Iola is Lyra’s distant niece and she completed her tertiary education at the University while living in the house, much like many, many others over the years. Exactly how long Auntie Lyra has lived on Black Hall Road is a mystery. She’s the oldest resident of Oxfordshire, but with her long black hair, active lifestyle and overall mobility, one wouldn’t know this fact if it wasn’t for the stories passed down from generation to generation.
Robert, or Bob, as he likes to be called, is how one would expect an archeologist to be, normal in every way, and an absolute genius. He has spent every summer since his 13th birthday on expedition exploring The Empire and discovering (and uncovering) archeological ruins. By the time he left Eton, he had become singularly fascinated by ancient history and the mysteries of times long passed.
When he graduated from Oxford University in 1869, everyone knew him as Hitchens, but, when he returned with his bride, to support the opening of Keble College, he had taken her maiden name. Nobody asked why.
While Bob is perfectly normal, albeit overly obsessed with physical history, Iola is just a tad bit peculiar. She’s very emotive, she uses words that the people around town don’t understand, she walks around dressed like a judge, and the students still talk about the fit she threw when introduced to a pencil, apparently, for the first time, when she was 18.
Iola had made a few, (endless, if you ask her), concessions in her new life with Robert Hitchens, now “Bob Black”, from the moment they met in London, six years ago.
Wednesday, 30 June, 1869
They, quite literally, ran into each other in King’s Cross that warm June afternoon. Iola returning from her last year of school in Scotland, and Bob from his last year at Oxford. They had both planned to return to family and begin their lives when it happened. Iola’s classmates would have described the way she looked at Bob as ‘murderous’, but Bob didn’t feel about-to-be-murdered.
All Bob felt, when he saw her flashing silver eyes, as they shifted from blue, to black, back to gray, was fascination. He knew immediately he wanted to marry this girl. Iola, 13 seconds away from murder, saw the look he gave her while she was giving him that murder look, and she fell in love.
“Please do pardon me, miss, may I help you up” Bob said, deciding to be formal. He picked himself up and held out his hand. Iola said nothing as she placed her hand in his.
“Thank you, sir. I apologize, I was preoccupied with a personal matter.” Iola said blushing
“Please, allow me to make it up to you, would you like to join me for dinner? I would very much like to prolong my own homecoming.” Bob said with a sincerity uncommon of polite British discourse.
“Certainly,” Iola said as she waved an unseen hand behind her.
“If it pleases you, I am Robert Hitchens, Please call me Bob” He said as he kissed the air above her knuckle. She blushed.
“Iola Black.” She forced her features to hold as to not let her anxiety show. He did not seem to recognize the name. No, because he smiled.
“Well, Miss Black, allow me to help you with your lug— Didn’t you have a trunk?” Bob asked, dropping the feigned decorum.
“No,” she lied. “And please call me Iola, for Jupiter’s Moon,” she said, instinctually.
“Yes, of course, I’d assumed for Jupiter’s Lover,” he said. Now both were blushing.
He sent his belongings home with the porter and they walked off, arm-in-arm. Both of them oblivious, at the moment, but they’ve since, had dinner together, every night.
Bob and Iola were also oblivious to the fact that none other than Phineas Nigellus Black, Iola’s older brother watched, from the shadows, as his baby sister walked off, arm-in-arm, with some random Muggle.
If Phineas had any acquaintance with his emotions or had any clarity of thought, beyond his own self interest, he wants to believe he would have been hurt by this scene, betrayed almost, terrified for his baby sister, marching off to be drowned or burnt at the stake. Instead, he felt an all-consuming rage. How can she even touch that beast!? How dare she, sully Black Blood, with a filthy muggle!? “Wait until Father hears about this!” he said to himself as he spun on the spot and disappeared.
4:32 pm Number 12 Grimmauld Place, London
The London branch of the Black family is the seat of power for the English line of House Black. It was established in 1550 by Polaris Vega Black upon the birth of his twins, Castor and Pollux. He built his home on in a relatively open area of London in 1622 on a convergence of key lines once used by the Romans.
The design of the house centered on his invention, the Vivarium, a proprietary application of Wizard-space which cannot collapse unless all ward stones within and the structure without are simultaneously destroyed. This feature simulates an indestructible building while allowing it to camouflage itself into its surroundings. By now, the house was surrounded by a development of Brownstones and it took on the shape to blend in.
The central structure of the house contains the foyer which spans from the front door all the way up to the roof. All rooms of the house open into the foyer, creating balconies leading into the other constructs attached to the main ward scheme. The grand entry foyer is always in flux and had been known to change appearance, climate, and lighting from generation to generation. All of the walls in nearly every room have assortments of portrait frames with various scenes painted in and the occupants constantly move from frame to frame, the painted figures, whispering to each other.
The moment Phineas Nigellus Appeared in the foyer of his family home, he payed no attention to his panted ancestors. He just popped in, unannounced, and he bellowed “Kreacher!”
“Young Master calls Kreacher?” The young elf said as he phased into visibility.
“Where is my father?”
“Masters Lepus and Orion in Lord’s Study, Young Master”
“Tell him I request his audience” Phineas snapped out impatiently.
Kreacher disappeared and reappeared 3 seconds later “Master Orion expects Young Master,” Kreacher announced. “Would Young Master be wanting more from Kreacher?” Phineas didn’t respond as he stormed through the Foyer and up the staircase to the Lord’s Study.
Orion Black I, Lord Black of the Wizengamot, was hosting his retired father, Lepus Black, with aged scotch, pipes burning American tobacco, soft blue flames in the fireplace pulling the smoke and heat out of the room.
Father, Lepus, and son, Orion, were laughing and reminiscing on their time a few summers ago in America. The muggles were having a bit of a spat, and they delighted in any opportunity to participate in a little hunting.
The peace and camaraderie instantly evaporated when Phineas burst into the study “Father! Something must be done with Iola!”
“Is my granddaughter not still at Hogwarts?” Lepus asked his son.
“We are expecting Iola tonight, Father.” Orion said dismissively. He leveled his gaze at his son, “Phineas, whatever do you mean?” Orion asked.
Great-Great-Great Grandfather Betelgeuse pushed into a portrait and announced, “The train arrived at King’s Cross, not twenty minutes ago.”
“Nobody asked you!” Another painted figured called across the study “no one has even said your name!”
“Go back to your frame!” Great-Great-Great-Great-Great Grandfather Polaris XXVI said.
“Yes, Grandfather” a subdued Betelgeuse said as he returned to his 3rd floor guest sitting room portrait.
Paying little attention to the rest of the portraits, as they continued to glare at each other over the heads of the living, Orion asked again “What has happened, Phineas?” He levitated a glass with a finger of scotch over to him. “Calmly, please.”
Phineas sat, a chair appeared under him and he took a sip of his scotch and he started “I watched Iola leave King’s Cross…” He took another sip.
“Go on.” Orion urged
“…on the arm of a Muggle”
The room exploded.
In an instant, all the glass in the townhouse disintegrated into sand. The portraits were all yelling, all of the doors into the foyer burst open and the house elves were popping all around to try and catch the valuables swirling around the grand central foyer in a great vortex.
Grandfather Lepus fainted and Phineas was blasted against the wall above the fireplace next to Great-Great-Great-Great-Great Grandfather Polaris’s portrait who looked on the scene in silent disappointment and walked out of frame.
Phineas saw his father’s glowing eyes and passed out.
On the third floor of Grimmauld place, in the sitting room of the least-used guest suite, a frustrated Betelgeuse flopped down on the painted chaise and let out an indignant huff. He could never understand why no one ever listened to him or why everyone refused to say his name, so he resigned himself to eavesdropping best he could without being seen. There isn’t so much as a landscape in the third floor guest suite sitting room, and so Betelgeuse has never seen the note affixed over the name plate of his frame.
“Do not say this name aloud. Two weeks after his death, the man of whom this portrait is a facsimile, appeared in the parlor not quite an inferius and not quite a poltergeist, after Altair spoke his name thrice. The pictured, when he appeared, had attempted to capture Altair’s soul in an attempt at reincarnation. Although Castor and Pollux successfully exorcized B*********, the ritual cursed his line so that only a single child would be born per generation for the next three generations. The ritual is tied to the portrait and if someone were to destroy it the magical backlash might kill an entire generation of Blacks. The taboo may or may not be in effect any more but nary a Black will dare say B**********, within earshot of any Black Family Portrait.”
5:02 pm, Number 17 Blackhall Road, Oxford
Polaris Black XXVI walked into his favorite of his 17 portrait frames. It’s situated in the front room of his favorite son’s perfect family. The frame is more than twice life size, and he’d designed this room with the 20 foot ceilings, for just that reason.
“Father?” Said the portrait of Pollux “Its a pleasure to see you” The portrait couldn’t keep the wide grin off his face.
“I suppose you have already heard?” Polaris asked also smothering a grin word travels fast within the vast network of interconnected Black portraits.
“Dear Nephew Rigel, over at Mungo’s." Pollux confirmed.
"Excellent," Polaris said. "And is Lyra home, Pollux?"
"Sweet Lyra!?” Pollux called out for his daughter.
“Yes, Father? Is cousin Lepus dead yet?” A very old witch with long, black hair and a youthful image and energy about her, skipped into the room with a hopeful look on her face. She came to a sliding stop when her eyes met Polaris’s.
“Grandfather! It’s such a pleasure to see you! It’s been weeks.” She said quickly and added “I apologize for my impropriety.”
“You, also, have heard?” Polaris wondered how long in real time it actually takes to come to Oxford. It shouldn’t take any.
His gaze softened completely as he said “Nonsense, make a seat.”
She quickly sat, trusting her grandfather’s magic imbued in the house to provide. A soft chair appeared under her, and a tea table next to her, Lyra’s favorite tea service flowed into the room and then four voices spoke simultaneously from different locations.
“Is Great grandfather Polaris calling?”
The questions ended at different times as each son added the appropriate amounts of “Great” to the title.
The four men streamed in, all kissing (“mother”, “gran”, “Great Grandmother”, “GG”) on the cheek as they passed, and all sat, all trusting the magic as their preferred chairs materialized under them and teacups appeared on the table and filled themselves.
Even though they all live at the far corners of Britannia, Vega, his son, Hercules, his son, Leo, and, in his son, Adam’s case over in Calais, they all seem to have a seventh sense about when Lyra calls her favorite teapot and tend to never miss tea when she uses it. They all sat around the portraits, sipping tea and listened to Polaris recount the tidings of the London cousins.
“I happened upon a conversation between Lord Black and your Cousin Lepus today. I usually ignore the happenings there…” Polaris began, Adam snickered. “But, today your cousin, Betel—you-know-which, decided to remove himself from exile and corroborated with Phineas-” He paused here, his mouth contorted in disgust before he continued “-Nigellus to tell tales on dear Iola, and it drew my attention.” Adam gasped and spilt a little tea, and he said “ Whatever could sweet Iola do, which would warrant tale telling, Great great great great grandfather.?”
“Iola was seen by her brother” he spat out ‘brother’, “leaving Kings Cross with a muggle man”
The occupants of 17 Blackhall Road sat there and blinked with confused looks on their faces.
“And..” Hercules urged.
At this, Polaris’s entire visage brightened and the portrait seemed to be cleaner. “Cousin Orion has nearly destroyed the town house.” Polaris said holding his hands together, beaming and bouncing on his toes. “All the glass: sand. Lepus, died right there, and Phineas was blasted unconscious. I dared not stay any longer, lest I be hit and destroyed” he finished in an innocent tone.
Lyra and her descendants could scarcely hide the mirth.
“Quite unfortunate.” Vega said into the tea cup.
“Horrifying” Lyra said
“Terrible news” Leo announced.
“We must offer condolences” offered Hercules
Adam didn’t say anything, almost purple from holding in the laughter.
“Mephistopheles!” Lyra called. A perch appeared and seconds later a large black owl came to a silent landing, upon the perch, next to Lyra. She waved her wand at some parchment she’d summoned and a message appeared in regular type, as though machine produced. It sent a message in and of itself without a single word of text needing to be read.
Dear Cousin Orion,
We offer our condolences to you in your time of turmoil. Please let us know if the Oxford Branch can be of any assistance.
Lyra.
The letter rolled itself and attached itself to the black owl’s leg and he set off to London.
Lyra then called her writing desk to her, as she reached for the quill her chair adjusted itself to give her a good, comfortable angle, and all of the men stared at her incredulously as she wrote and narrated at the same time.
“Dearest, Sweet Iola,
I, Auntie Lyra, would like to congratulate you on the completion of your secondary education. The family and I ask for you to please come directly to Number 17 this evening, at your earliest convenience, to discuss your future.
We don’t think it a wonderful idea for you to remain in London, and we would love to see you here, in Oxford.
As a warning, Phineas had taken it upon himself to spread news of his observations from the train station earlier this afternoon.
I will ask Grandfather to ask the elves to quietly collect your things post-haste.
See you soon.
Love, Auntie et familia`”
“Fawkes!?” Lyra called very sweetly and everyone gasped.
“Dear, if it pleases you, could you get this to Iola, Unseen and Unnoticed?”
Fawkes trilled and bobbed his head as he snatched up the letter and vanished.
“GG, why not ask an elf?” Adam wondered.
“They’re on vacation, dearie, and anyway, Fawkes really didn’t seem to mind.” Lea replied.
Polaris slipped out of the portrait when he heard he had been offered up for chores they heard him faintly say “Kreature, could you please gather Miss Iola’s belongings and bring them to Auntie Lyra’s house.” He stepped back into the portrait and moments later a collection of trunks and wardrobes appeared in the room.
“Kreature is a good elf.” Polaris said.
Meanwhile, 12 Grimmauld Place, London
By the time Phineas regained consciousness, it was like nothing had happened. Grandfather had been taken to St. Mungo’s by an elf, the house was repaired but Orion was still on a rampage. “How dare she!?” Phineas heard his father’s voice coming from the parlor and he rounded the doorway just in time to hear Orion shout. “AVADA KEDAVRA” a sickly unnatural green light jetted from his wand and hit right on Iola’s face, as depicted in the tapestry. It left a hole and broke the enchantment on her branch. “I have no daughter!” He exclaimed.
Deep in a tomb in Egypt, a young curse breaker with wild, Jet-black hair and flashing gray eyes looked up and around, shrugged and went back to her work.
At a table in London, enjoying the afternoon, Iola had just touched Lyra’s letter and felt nothing.
The largest, blackest and meanest looking owl, Phineas had ever seen, gently floated into the parlor, to the perch by the fireplace, and let out a hoot so deep, it sounded more like “why”.
Phineas reached a trembling hand toward the letter and the owl, “Mephistopheles” as the solid gold name plate on a golden chain around the bird’s neck declared, scanned Phineas’s soul. With no help from the owl Phineas detached and unrolled the scroll. “It’s from Aunt Lyra” he said. “She’s offering her condolences.” Orion had marched over and read the insult on cheap parchment for what it was and tossed it into the strange cold fire.
“I wish I had her on a tapestry” he said while twirling his wand.
Mephistopheles had already gone by the time either man looked back up to see Lepus, come to life in his portrait, glaring at them. “Idiot boy,” he said to Phineas Nigellus.
4:43 am, 7 July, 1975
Iola and Auntie Lyra were in the nursery for the birth while Bob was pacing nervously in the hall. At precisely 4:44, the preternatural storm finally flashed its last bout of lightening and with a roll of thunder it scattered as quickly as it came in. The birds began chirping and the doors to the chamber opened and Lyra called Bob inside to meet his son.
In an ancient, Albion castle far north, in Scotland, a black-haired man, with a short, pointed beard, was leaving his interview with the Headmistress. He narrowed his eyes and came to an abrupt stop, between the gargoyles at the bottom of the stairs. His eyes locked on the door of the secret chamber across from him, he had discovered while he was a student, and he had a feeling, deep inside his crusty heart, that he needed to witness something in the chamber.
His silver eyes locked on the book with the floating magical quill, ghostly violet light swirls and solidifies into words and the quill automatically writes the name. When the man saw “Errai Robert Black”, he quickly slid parchment over the page of the Book of Admittance. The Quill of Acceptance wrote the name on the parchment.
“How dare she!” Phineas Nigellus Black, the new, N.E.W.T. - level Enchantments professor, said as he burnt the parchment. He didn’t even know his traitor sister was pregnant, but knew no one else, actually, in the family was. He couldn't believe the audacity she had to keep the Black surname.
As he walked out of the chamber, Phineas would have dropped dead that second, if only the Book had eyes and looks could kill. The Quill didn’t attempt to write that name again. Phineas resolved to make sure it never would.
Deep under Black Mountain, the gaze of two glowing silver eyes cut through the dark, fixed on a point in the enchanted night sky, sprawling overhead. Streams of light and clouds surge and swirl on the point and collapse into a bright star. The clouds, around the new star, formed the name ‘Errai’ before dissipating. The man, in the dark, with the glowing silver eyes, lifted the corner of his mouth just slightly.
“Errai?” Bob asked slightly squinting, gently rocking Errai in his arms.
The baby boy already had thick black hair and his mother’s silver gray eyes, with an electric feeling about him.
“The light of the shepherd, in the Cepheus constellation” Iola said. Iola was sitting up with a serene smile, not a drop of sweat nor blood on her.
Auntie reminded him “It’s tradition in the family that we name the children from the Heavens”
“Honoring tradition will not change your father, love.” Bob said sweetly
“Certainly not”, Iola chuckled, “but, regardless of what my father believes, or what his precious, blasted tapestry says, Errai is named of the Heavens, and of House Black, and the tide must shift eventually” Iola said.
She still felt unease at the thought of her disownment, even though she was brought into Auntie’s care nearly simultaneously, the thought of her father despising her like he does will never really sit well with her.
“I do not wish for you to be disappointed if that tide doesn’t shift” Bob said
Iola glared at him for precisely 4 seconds and responded “Regardless, the name is powerful, and I just know that he will be great”.
“Lord willing.” Bob said.
Iola rolled her eyes at that, which is her right, and at least she doesn’t hiss anymore.
Elladora Black never quite felt as though she belonged in her family. She sorted Hufflepuff, played Quidditch, disdained nearly everything her father and brother believed in, and on top of all that, she wasn’t even named after so much as a comet.
The very first time she felt something she could only describe as Family Magic, she was working on a curse in Egypt and all of a sudden she felt released from something, and her thoughts cleared. She shrugged it off and finished her work, putting out of her mind, until, one day, she received the most peculiar letter.
Not only was the letter odd, but the delivery method was nightmare fuel for months. She was sitting in her tent, flipping through a witch weekly and eating some sort of goblin made lamb, it’s delicious if you’re wondering, when she felt heat in the palm of her right hand.
She looked down at it and her skin started to bubble. Her palm turned redder and suddenly blood seeped out of her pours and swirled and coalesced in her palm. The blood solidified into a cylinder and turned from red to creme and from blood to parchment. It was sealed with the symbol of a seven pointed star. When she opened and read it her whole world changed.
Congratulations , Cousin!
We are inviting you to attend the Family Reunion in the Ancestral Hall at Black Mountain.
The true ancestral home of the Black Family is housed in Black Mountain, 100 Miles Chile-ward North of the South Pole, Antarctica. Just say “Black Mountain.”
- Polaris The First, The Eternal.
Dynasty Head, Keeper of the Ancient Secret and Co-Conspirator Alpha of the IDBST
When Elladora read the last line, before she could even comprehend the letter’s context, it folded itself into a Knut-sized cube trinket on a dark chain. Engraved across two faces “Elladora” could be read. She marveled at the way the trinket caught the dim light in her tent, it was obvious to her that it was a Portkey, but the material was a mystery, it was transparent, but but also shiny, like glass, but also like air, heavier than it should have been in hand, but very light from the chain. Elladora pondered the decision, it wasn’t like anyone was waiting for her, and chances are she could return. But what if she couldn’t? Ella shrugged. She slipped the chain over her neck and said “Black Mountain”