Three Stars, One House
The Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Black is arguably the most prestigious pure-blood family in Wizarding Britain, second only to the founding families of Hogwarts. Their influence runs deep, touching nearly every corner of the wizarding society. Whether through marriage, alliances, or political maneuvering, the Blacks have long been a dominant force in magical Britain, and they wear their nobility as proudly as they wield their magic.
The House of Black’s lineage stretches back more than a millennium, with roots dating to shortly after the founding of Hogwarts itself. According to the oldest legends, their founder was Morrigan Black, one of the earliest witches to attend Hogwarts after the Founders sought out magical children to teach. Morrigan was no ordinary student; she caught the attention of Salazar Slytherin himself, who recognized her prodigious talent and took her under his wing. It is said that she was his favored pupil, excelling in every form of magic he taught her. But it was Dark Arts where she truly shone. Slytherin passed on to her knowledge that he entrusted to few, and Morrigan absorbed it like a sponge.
The tradition was established early: a Black would always be Sorted into Slytherin. It became a point of pride within the family, a symbol of their loyalty to the most cunning and ambitious House. Over the centuries, Slytherin's teachings shaped the Black family, turning them into masters of magic, politics, and power.
After her time at Hogwarts, Morrigan embarked on a journey that took her far from the British Isles. She traveled across Europe, meeting other witches and wizards, exchanging her knowledge for new and esoteric magics. These travels broadened her understanding, making her a force to be reckoned with. Morrigan became particularly enamored with Blood Magic, an ancient and powerful form of spellcraft that she mastered over time. The magic was potent, tied to life forces and ancestral lines, and Morrigan wielded it with a skill few could match.
However, the power came at a cost. Blood Magic, while powerful, is dangerous, corrupting the soul and weakening the mind when abused. Morrigan, in her quest for more power, began using it excessively. Some say she delved too deeply into forbidden practices, performing rituals that tore at the very fabric of her being. It is said that her overuse of Blood Magic broke something within her, not only in her body but in her very bloodline. The curse she brought upon herself soon manifested in her descendants, weaving its way into the heart of the Black family.
Generations of Blacks have lived under this curse, its effects showing differently in each member of the family. Some say it is why many of the Blacks exhibit signs of madness or cruelty, a lingering consequence of Morrigan’s dark magic. Others believe it to be why the family has such a strong connection to the Dark Arts, an attraction that pulls at them even when they try to resist.
The curse placed upon the Black family was said to have taken root deep within their bloodline, ensuring that while they would always be powerful and influential, they would also be plagued by madness, infighting, and an obsessive need to cling to their pure-blood heritage. This curse dictated that the Blacks would inevitably be their own worst enemies, with many of them dying tragically young or becoming consumed by their ambitions and hatred. It was a poison passed down through generations, twisting their minds and darkening their hearts.
This bloodline curse might explain the deep fractures within the family and why so many Blacks ended up on divergent paths. It wasn't just that they had different ideologies; the very nature of the curse ensured that they would turn on each other. Some became paragons of the pure-blood creed, while others rebelled violently against it. The family became notorious not only for its power and influence but for the tragic ends that often met its members.
Every Black heir, in time, faced a great moral test—an unavoidable trial of character that would either strengthen them or destroy them. Those who failed would descend into madness, often becoming obsessive, cruel, or consumed by their desires. Those who succeeded, however, had the potential to break the curse—but only by making a sacrifice of something precious to them. Over the centuries, this test was a closely guarded secret, with some members hiding it, while others sought to manipulate the outcome to their advantage.
It was said that during the Middle Ages, the House of Black formed secret alliances with several dark magical factions. They sought out power wherever it could be found, and the most powerful dark wizards of the time were eager to ally with them. The Blacks had ties to the Unforgivable Brotherhood, a feared secret society of dark wizards who practiced the most dangerous and ancient forms of blood magic, necromancy, and ritual curses.
In return for their loyalty and alliances, the Blacks gained forbidden knowledge, much of which they hoarded and passed down through their bloodline. They learned how to preserve their legacy through magical means and how to create powerful heirlooms, such as the Black family tapestry, which could keep track of every member of the family, erasing those who defied its values—blood traitors, squibs, and anyone who married beneath their station. The magic of the tapestry itself was powerful, imbued with the essence of the family’s belief in purity and supremacy, ensuring that no one unworthy remained a Black in name.
A few years after Morrigan’s time, another prominent Black ancestor emerged: Cadoc Black, a fierce advocate for pure-blood supremacy. He briefly studied under Salazar Slytherin at Hogwarts before leaving the school in search of more potent, forbidden magic. He believed Hogwarts was far too lenient toward Muggle-borns, and he began publicly speaking out in favor of pure-blood dominance, setting a precedent for future generations of Blacks. Cadoc’s radical beliefs became a foundation for the ideology that many of his descendants would adopt, shaping the legacy of the House of Black.
By the late 19th century, the House of Black was in its last great era, heralded by Arcturus Black III and Pollux Black, the sons of Sirius Black II and Hesper Gamp. They had three other siblings—Lycoris, Cassiopeia, and Cedrella—but it was Pollux's and Arcturus’s children who would witness the rise of a new dark force.
Arcturus, the eldest of the five Black siblings, was born in 1884 and married Melania Macmillan sometime in the 1910s. Their marriage further strengthened the ties between two prominent pure-blood families—the Blacks and the Macmillans—both of whom would later be recognized as part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. They had two children: their eldest, Lucretia, born in 1925, and Orion, born in 1929.
The next important figure in the Black family was the second son, Pollux Black. Born in 1902, Pollux married Irma Crabbe, further securing their position among pure-blood elites. Together, they had three children: Walburga, born in 1925, Alphard in 1931, and Cygnus III in 1938.
Lycoris Black, born in 1907, and her sister Cassiopeia, born in 1912, chose to remain unmarried. Little is known about Lycoris, who is said to have died under mysterious circumstances in 1965. Despite her lack of direct descendants, Cassiopeia became somewhat of a prominent figure. She moved to France, where she allegedly built a spy network more powerful and intricate than any Ministry or government could ever hope to achieve. Operating from the shadows, her fate remains a mystery, and it’s unclear whether she is still alive.
The youngest sibling, Cedrella, born in 1915, was disowned from the Black family for marrying Septimus Weasley, heir to the House of Weasley—whom the Blacks considered beneath their status. Despite being cast out, Cedrella and Septimus went on to have a son in 1954, marking the continuation of the Weasley line.
The children of Arcturus and Pollux—Orion, Lucretia, Alphard, Walburga, and Cygnus Black III—studied at Hogwarts during a time of great change in the Wizarding World. In their time, they witnessed the rise of Tom Marvolo Riddle, the brilliant but deeply dangerous student who would later become known as Lord Voldemort, the darkest wizard of their era, surpassing even Grindelwald in infamy.
Though many in the Wizarding World would later fear Voldemort’s name, those who studied with him, including members of the Black family, recognized his prodigious talents and ambitions long before he declared himself a Dark Lord. It was whispered that the Black family, particularly Orion and Walburga, were aware of Riddle's prowess and followed his rise closely, positioning themselves within the shifting tides of dark wizarding politics. For a family that thrived on power and control, Voldemort’s ascent was both an opportunity and a threat.
This generation of Blacks were the founding members of the Knights of Walpurgis, a precursor to what would later be known as the Death Eaters, serving the Dark Lord Voldemort. Though they never officially bore the Dark Mark, they played a crucial role in the First Wizarding War. Their influence was felt through the teachings they passed down to their children, embedding the values of pure-blood supremacy and loyalty to the Dark Lord's cause deep within the family. These ideals would shape the next generation of Blacks, many of whom would actively support Voldemort during the height of his rise to power.
The Blacks would never lower themselves to something as common as "followers." No, they were allies to the Dark Lord. As one of the top families of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, they exerted influence over other pure-blood families, urging them to join the Dark cause. Their goal was not just the preservation of pure-blood supremacy—though many within the family still staunchly believed in it—but also to restore the Old Ways, which had been abandoned with the increasing acceptance of Muggle-borns. For some, it wasn’t about power or bloodlines; it was about reclaiming the freedom to wield magic without restriction, to practice both light and dark arts as they saw fit.
In an effort to preserve their bloodline, Pollux Black insisted that his only daughter, Walburga, marry her cousin Orion, despite protests from the then Lord Black, Arcturus. Orion, a few years younger than Walburga, dutifully complied with the arrangement, as such unions were not uncommon among the elite pure-blood families to ensure the purity of their lineage.
On the other hand, Lucretia, Arcturus’s eldest daughter, was a different story. She married Ignatius Prewett, another prominent pure-blood from a respected family. However, unlike most pure-blood women of her time, Lucretia refused to follow the traditional expectations placed upon her. She rebelled against the notion that her only value in the wizarding society was to stay at home, produce an heir, and look after children. Instead, she chose to remain childless, a decision fully supported by her husband, who was deeply and completely in love with her. Ignatius understood and admired her desire for independence, making them a rare, unconventional couple in their world.
Alphard, much like his cousin Lucretia, also rebelled against the rigid expectations of the Black family. He openly refused to conform to their extreme views on blood purity and chose a different path for himself. Having witnessed the depth of madness in his sister Walburga’s obsession with maintaining pure-blood supremacy, Alphard decided he wanted no part in it. He rejected the idea of creating a family of his own, whether with a man or a woman, and lived his life by his own terms. This made him a black sheep within the Black family, but Alphard remained resolute, valuing his personal freedom over conformity.
Cygnus III, the youngest of Pollux’s children, found himself under less pressure compared to his older cousin Orion, who was expected to carry the weight of the family legacy as the heir. With this leeway, Cygnus led a quieter life, albeit still within the constraints of his family's traditional values. His marriage to Druella Rosier, a match arranged by his parents, was typical of pure-blood unions, but over time, Cygnus learned to love Druella, and their marriage became a successful partnership.
Despite being the last to marry, Cygnus and Druella Rosier were blessed with three beautiful daughters. Bellatrix, their eldest, was born in 1951, followed by Andromeda in 1953, and lastly Narcissa in 1955. Each of these daughters would go on to shape the legacy of the Black family in very distinct and impactful ways. Bellatrix, with her fierce loyalty to the Dark Lord; Andromeda, who chose independence over tradition; and Narcissa, the self-assured, dutiful wife and mother, fiercely protective of her own.
Meanwhile, Orion, burdened by the expectations of continuing the Black legacy and the fear of producing either a squib or a child born of madness -due to inbreeding, waited anxiously before starting his family. However, they were eventually blessed with their first son, Sirius, born in 1959. He was the apple of their eye at birth, the heir, and the first grandson of Arcturus Black. Yet, as Sirius grew, his rebellious nature soon became apparent, setting him on a path that would ultimately cause a rift in the family. Two years later, in 1961, Orion and Walburga had their second son, Regulus. Unlike his older brother, Regulus would become the ideal Black heir, conforming to the family’s expectations and traditions, though this would come at a cost later in life.
From the beginning, it was clear that Bellatrix had the makings of the infamous Black madness. Her obsessive tendencies were strikingly apparent, and her eerie cackle, which seemed to emerge during bouts of intensity, unsettled even her parents, who loved her despite it all. This cruelty only escalated during the First Wizarding War, where Bellatrix's reputation for brutal ruthlessness became legendary. She showed no mercy toward her victims, often pushing the limits of violence far beyond what was necessary. Bellatrix seemed to thrive on causing pain and chaos, her intensity unmatched by anyone in Voldemort's circle.
Bellatrix was a formidable duellist, possibly the best of her time. Her sheer power and skill in combat were said to paralyze her victims before a fight even began. Whispers among the Death Eaters claimed that Voldemort himself had personally taught her the finer points of duelling. She was his most favored, one of the earliest members of his inner circle, and held a place in his elite group of followers, a distinction that only fed her dangerous obsession with him.
Bellatrix’s feelings for the Dark Lord bordered on worship. She believed she loved him, her devotion consuming her entirely. But love was not a luxury afforded to her by her family. The Blacks had long planned her marriage to Rodolphus Lestrange, the heir of another powerful pure-blood family. The union was nothing more than a political alliance, and there was no love, nor even affection, between Bellatrix and Rodolphus. They were married sometime in the 1970s, both locked in a cold and distant arrangement. Bellatrix was lost in her lust for power, while Rodolphus had his own silent, dark inclinations. The thought of them having a child seemed catastrophic, a perfect storm of madness brewing between them.
However, due to the terms of their marriage contract, they were obligated to produce an heir within five years of their marriage. Reluctantly, after avoiding the matter as long as possible, Bellatrix gave birth to a daughter in late 1975: Lyra Altair Lestrange. The child was a striking beauty, bearing the unmistakable Black features and inheriting her father’s legacy as a Lestrange. Yet, despite her arrival, Bellatrix and Rodolphus had no interest in raising their daughter. They left her care to others, indifferent to her presence in their lives.
Lyra was often looked after by her maternal grandparents, Pollux and Druella Black, or her aunt Narcissa, who had just graduated from Hogwarts and had some time on her hands. But it was her uncle, Rabastan Lestrange, who truly adored and doted on her, treating her as if she were his own. Still a student at Hogwarts at the time, Rabastan often returned home during holidays to take care of his niece, offering her the affection and attention her parents refused to provide.
Meanwhile, Bellatrix and Rodolphus continued to wreak havoc across Wizarding Britain, going on raids and ruthlessly killing both Muggles and Wixen in the name of the Dark Lord, leaving chaos and death in their wake.
Andromeda, the middle daughter of the Black family, had always stood out from her sisters. Unlike the others, she wanted to live for herself and marry for love, driven by dreams of breaking away from the rigid expectations placed on her. She admired her aunt Lucretia, who had chosen to live life on her own terms without being tied down to traditional roles. Inspired by this, Andromeda was determined to forge her own path. She had no desire to be an in-house wife; instead, she dreamed of studying law and becoming a barrister.
Like all Blacks before her, she was sorted into Slytherin. But just because she was different didn’t make her any less ambitious or cunning—if anything, Andromeda was perhaps the most ambitious of all. Brilliant, beautiful, and fully aware of it, she had every intention of shaping her own destiny. Andromeda absolutely adored her sisters, especially her baby sister Narcissa, whom she felt protective over. However, unlike her older sister Bellatrix, who was consumed by a fanatic obsession with blood purity, Andromeda did not share the same zealotry. Still, growing up in the Black family meant that she absorbed pure-blood ideals and etiquette, and she carried herself with grace, albeit more out of obligation than genuine belief. Narcissa, on the other hand, fully embraced and embodied those values, becoming a shining example of pure-blood legacy and decorum.
It was during her sixth year at Hogwarts that Andromeda’s life took a surprising turn. While working on a group assignment, she met Ted Tonks, a Muggle-born student. Ted shattered many of the beliefs that had been ingrained in her since childhood. Muggle-borns were supposed to be inferior, their magic weak and their intelligence lacking. Yet Ted proved her wrong at every turn. As they spent more time together, Andromeda found herself genuinely liking him. This was a significant problem. Not only was Ted a Muggle-born, but her family had already arranged a marriage for her with Lucius Malfoy, the heir to another prominent pure-blood family. The thought of marrying Lucius, however, repulsed her. Lucius was arrogant, narcissistic, and utterly convinced of his superiority, a belief that grated on her every time they interacted.
That summer, before returning for her final year at Hogwarts, Andromeda decided to break the news to her family: she maybe in love, and she wanted to back out of the arranged marriage with Lucius. She knew they wouldn’t take it well, but she had hoped, naively, that they might consider her happiness. She couldn’t have been more wrong. The moment she revealed that her love was a Muggle-born, chaos erupted. Her parents, especially her father, were furious. The very idea of a Black, a member of one of the oldest and most prestigious pure-blood families, marrying a Muggle-born was inconceivable. They gave her an ultimatum: marry Lucius as planned or face disownment.
The hardest part for Andromeda was that neither of her sisters came to her defense. Bellatrix, consumed by her obsession with blood purity, was unsurprisingly silent. But Narcissa’s lack of support stung the most. Andromeda had always felt a deep bond with her youngest sister, but now, in this moment of need, she found herself alone. Torn between her affection for Ted and love for her family, Andromeda returned to Hogwarts for her final year with a heavy heart.
Despite her feelings for Ted, Andromeda knew the weight of being disowned. Ted, for all his love and good intentions, couldn’t fully grasp what it meant to lose her family, her name, and possibly even her magic. It wasn’t something she could brush aside. She didn’t want to end up like Arthur Weasley, struggling to make ends meet, ostracized by society. The thought of following in Molly Weasley’s footsteps, as a social outcast, terrified her.
Unable to bring herself to continue her relationship with Ted and equally unwilling to bend to her parents' will, Andromeda sought an alternative. A middle path, if one could call it that. There was a boy in her year, Aiden Avery, heir to the House of Avery, another member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. He had always been attracted to her, though he had never acted on it, assuming she was out of reach because of her betrothal to Lucius Malfoy.
With no other options, Andromeda approached Aiden with a bold proposal: marriage. Aiden, already infatuated with her, agreed without hesitation. They eloped shortly after their graduation, sealing their union through binding spells like the Unbreakable Vow and exchanging heirlooms. Aiden presented her with a ring bearing the Avery family crest, marking their union and her new path—one that neither her family nor Ted could have predicted.
When news of Andromeda’s elopement with Aiden Avery reached the Black family, the reaction was explosive. Her parents were furious beyond measure, seeing the union as a direct affront to their carefully crafted plans. Her aunt Walburga, always one to revel in dramatic outbursts, was near hysterical at the thought of a Black tainting their esteemed bloodline, even if Aiden Avery was a pure-blood. But the reaction of her grandfather, Arcturus Black, Lord of the House of Black, was perhaps the most significant of all. Unlike his more rigid family members, Arcturus had always had a soft spot for most of his grandchildren, even those not from his direct line. Though Andromeda’s decision shocked him, he found solace in the fact that she had, at the very least, chosen a partner from the sacred twenty-eight. In his eyes, the Black name had not been dragged through the mud, and for that, he was relieved.
Arcturus understood the importance of keeping peace between the great pure-blood houses, and he knew that Andromeda’s rebellion had the potential to spark a larger conflict, particularly with the Malfoys. Abraxas Malfoy, the patriarch of the Malfoy family, was a man known for his pride and ambition, and the broken engagement between his son, Lucius, and Andromeda was a severe blow to the Malfoy family's prestige. Abraxas was not amused by the situation—he had lost a valuable alliance with the Blacks, and the repercussions of such a loss could ripple through their society.
Arcturus, being a skilled negotiator and political strategist, saw an opportunity to mend the broken ties between the two families. He proposed a counter-offer: since Andromeda had chosen her path, why not have Narcissa, the youngest and most compliant of his granddaughters, marry Lucius Malfoy instead? Narcissa, with her grace, beauty, and adherence to the family's values, would be the perfect candidate to restore the alliance and maintain the purity of both families’ bloodlines.
Abraxas, though still seething with anger at the loss of Andromeda, saw the potential in Arcturus' proposal. Narcissa was, after all, a Black, and by joining the Malfoy family, she would still bring the same prestigious bloodline and the influence that came with it. Begrudgingly, he agreed to the arrangement.
This marriage would cement the Malfoy-Black alliance once more, and Arcturus knew that the Black family name would continue to hold its revered place among the most powerful of Wizarding families, even if one of their own had dared to step out of line.
So, with all that done, Andromeda was not disowned from the family or blasted off the family tapestry. She grew colder and more distant with her relatives, yet neither the Blacks nor Andromeda ever completely cut ties. Society demanded that they attend many of the same events—balls, dinners, and other functions—so they remained a part of each other's lives, even if only on the surface.
Andromeda grew to care deeply for her husband, Aiden, who proved to be far more accommodating than she had initially anticipated. He supported her desire to pursue a career in law, something unheard of in many pure-blood families at the time. Aiden had no issue with Andromeda enrolling in legal studies to become a barrister for the Wixen community. For two years following their graduation and marriage in 1971, Andromeda focused entirely on her studies, and by 1973, she became a registered barrister at the Ministry. The couple, having eloped and not bound by the usual pure-blood stipulations for immediate heirs, felt no pressure to have a child right away.
However, as their bond grew stronger, Andromeda and Aiden eventually decided they wanted a family. In 1973, Andromeda gave birth to their daughter, Carina Seren Avery. The birth of Carina brought joy not only to the couple but also stirred a significant surprise within the Black family.
Carina was born with a gift thought long lost to the Blacks—the ability of a Metamorphmagus. From the moment she was born, Carina would change her hair color depending on her emotions, a subtle display of her powerful magical inheritance. Her hair would shift from pale blonde when sleepy to a striking shade of black when she was hungry, reminding the family of a forgotten magic once tied to the ancient Black bloodline.
The young parents were elated by their daughter's uniqueness, and even the Black family, who had once distanced themselves from Andromeda’s choice, couldn’t help but admire the resurgence of such a rare ability. However, this revelation gave them all pause. It was clear that while the Blacks had tried to keep their bloodline “pure” by marrying within their circle for generations, that strategy may have stifled the expansion of their magical potential. It seemed that by marrying into a family that had been distantly related and mixing the bloodlines, something long dormant had awakened. This left many in the Black family wondering if they had been wrong all along, even if they would never openly admit it.
The birth of Carina signaled that perhaps the legacy of the House of Black was more complex than any of them had understood, and Andromeda’s choice, though rebellious at the time, had brought an unexpected resurgence of magical talent back into their lineage.
Narcissa Black had always embodied the ideal of a well-bred daughter in Wixen society—elegant, poised, and graceful. She was the epitome of a pure-blood aristocrat, wielding her beauty and composure like a weapon. But beneath her calm exterior was a woman with fierce loyalties, ruthless in her own right. Narcissa loved fiercely, and though she wasn't one to openly boast or showcase her emotions, she would go to war for those she held dear. She preferred subtlety and manipulation in her approach, embodying Slytherin's cunning through and through.
One of Narcissa's most striking traits was her appearance. Unlike her family’s characteristic dark hair, she had inherited her mother's platinum-blonde locks, though they were streaked with black—a subtle reminder of her Black heritage. She was a vision of beauty, always the perfect image in every room she graced.
While Narcissa upheld the values her family instilled in her, she differed from some of her more fanatical relatives in her approach. She believed in many of the ideals Bellatrix screamed from the rooftops but was much more measured, keeping her beliefs close to her chest. Unlike Bellatrix and her aunt Walburga, she wasn’t convinced that Muggle-borns had stolen their magic. Narcissa was pragmatic and cautious, open to learning from new perspectives, even if she hardly ever strayed from the core beliefs of her upbringing.
Narcissa was closest to her sister Andromeda. They had grown up together, spent more time together at Hogwarts, and shared an unspoken understanding. Neither had the infamous Black madness that haunted Bellatrix, which made them far more patient and approachable with one another. While Bellatrix became consumed by her obsession with power, Narcissa and Andromeda were each other's confidants, until everything changed when Andromeda chose a different path.
Cissa secretly harbored dreams of becoming a healer, a profession where she could use her natural talents to cure illnesses and combat curses. She admired the precision and skill it took to create counter-curses, and as a natural healer—rare in the magical world—she knew she had a gift. During a visit to St. Mungo’s when Bellatrix gave birth to her daughter Lyra, Narcissa met Healer Yaxley. She was in awe of his skill and quietly began corresponding with him, asking for the chance to apprentice under him. Yaxley had shown interest, promising to watch her progress and potentially take her on.
But then came Andromeda’s shocking announcement that she had fallen in love with a Muggle-born, Ted Tonks. Narcissa couldn't comprehend it. How could her sister, the one she looked up to most, fall for someone their family would never accept? And yet, it wasn’t Andromeda's relationship with Ted that angered her most; it was when Andromeda ran off and eloped with Aiden Avery, that Narcissa felt truly betrayed.
The fallout was swift. Narcissa, who had no marriage contract in place and dreamed of a future in healing, was forced to marry Lucius Malfoy—a consequence of Andromeda's choices. Lucius wasn’t a terrible match, and in many ways, he was admirable, but Narcissa resented the fact that her life was altered because of decisions out of her control.
Graduating from Hogwarts in 1973, Narcissa couldn’t immediately pursue her dream of becoming a healer. Bellatrix had become more consumed by the Dark Lord’s cause and left her newborn daughter Lyra with the family. While Rabastan adored the child, he was still a student at Hogwarts, and Narcissa had to step in as Lyra’s primary caregiver.
During this time, Narcissa began exchanging letters with Lucius. His father, Abraxas Malfoy, had fallen ill with Dragon Pox, and the young Malfoy heir was shouldering the burden of managing the family’s affairs. With Abraxas bedridden, Lucius was thrust into the political scene at the Ministry, and at his father’s insistence, he took the Dark Mark.
Despite the arrangement between their families, Narcissa and Lucius agreed to delay their marriage. This allowed Lucius to establish himself in the Ministry and work his way into the Dark Lord's inner circle, while Narcissa used the time to care for Lyra and train under Healer Yaxley. Narcissa excelled in her studies, becoming a brilliant healer at a time when war demanded those skills more than ever. Her abilities proved invaluable when it came to extending Abraxas’s life, though not indefinitely.
In 1979, the two finally made their union official. Shortly after, Narcissa gave birth to their son, Draconis Lucius Malfoy, in June of 1980. He was the perfect heir, a mix of his parents’ best traits. With his platinum-blonde hair and the sharp features of his mother, Draco embodied the future of the Malfoy legacy, cementing Narcissa’s place in both the Black and Malfoy dynasties.
The legacy of the daughters of the House of Black has always been a complex tapestry woven with rebellion, ambition, and power. One sister was obsessed with blood purity, another chose the path of defiance, and the last took all she had learned and turned it into quiet strength. Each of them was a weapon in her own right, dangerous and unyielding in different ways. To cross any of the three would be a mistake no one could afford, as vengeance, though varied in its methods, was guaranteed. They shared an unspoken understanding—whether through fire, cold calculation, or quiet resolve—that the wrongs done to them would be repaid in full.
The First Wizarding War was brutal, and as the conflict progressed, Lord Voldemort became increasingly monstrous. Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange, deeply devoted to the Dark Lord, were consumed by their fanaticism, each participating with zeal. They were elbow-deep in the violence and chaos that Voldemort sowed. Meanwhile, Aiden Avery and Lucius Malfoy, though equally involved, played a subtler role. Both the House of Avery and the House of Malfoy were faithful to the Dark Lord’s cause, though their participation in the war was more behind the scenes, engaging in strategic rather than overtly violent efforts.
For Andromeda and Narcissa, their choices during the war marked them differently from their fanatical sister, Bellatrix. Andromeda, after choosing rebellion and marrying outside of her family’s expectations, firmly refused to take part in the war. She chose the safety of her family over the chaos of battle. Narcissa, on the other hand, was a crucial figure in the Dark Lord’s inner circle, though not as a warrior. Instead, she wielded her influence through her skills as a healer. Her expertise made her invaluable, tending to the wounded and ensuring that key figures on their side remained in fighting form. Both sisters, despite their reluctance to fully engage in Voldemort’s war, found themselves tethered to its outcomes through their husbands’ loyalty.
Though Andromeda’s refusal to fight distanced her from the war, she couldn’t fully escape its consequences. The legacy of their family loomed over her, as it did over Narcissa. Narcissa, though never taking the Dark Mark herself, was deeply involved in the war effort through her behind-the-scenes role. Together, the sisters navigated the treacherous waters of the First Wizarding War, bound by family, circumstance, and the ever-tightening grip of the Dark Lord’s influence.
The Dark Lord was defeated on October 31, 1981, by a child the same age as Narcissa's own son, Draco. The news spread like wildfire across Wizarding Britain: the Potters were dead, and their infant son, Harry Potter, was the sole survivor of the attack. The exact details of that night were unclear, but that didn’t stop people from celebrating the downfall of the most feared Dark Lord in history. And so, the Wizarding World quickly latched onto the idea of Harry Potter as their savior, dubbing him "The Boy Who Lived," as if he had single-handedly vanquished a wizard with over fifty years of experience, knowledge, and dark power.
It was chaos after that. Narcissa's good-for-nothing cousin, Sirius Black, was imprisoned, accused of betraying the Potters and handing them over to Voldemort. That, Narcissa thought, was the most absurd thing she'd ever heard. Sirius may have been a blood traitor and an utter disgrace to the Black family name, but one thing she knew for sure—he worshipped the ground the Potters walked on. The idea that he would betray them? It was preposterous. Then came the shocking news that Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Barty Crouch Jr. had been involved in torturing the Longbottoms into insanity, before ultimately killing them. Shortly after, they were apprehended and immediately sent to Azkaban.
The Ministry, overwhelmed by the sudden shift in power, was struggling to maintain order. With the aftermath of the war looming over them, overworked employees at the Ministry had little hope of ensuring swift justice. Trials were delayed, if not outright dismissed. The entire system was in disarray.
Lucius and Aiden, ever the cunning Slytherins, knew better than to wait for justice to be served. Using their political influence, family name, and carefully crafted statements, they slipped away from any accusations that came their way. Both claimed to have been under the Imperius Curse, a line that had been premeditated and backed by supposed evidence. They blamed their own fathers for forcing them into Voldemort’s service, portraying themselves as victims of a legacy they had no choice but to endure. Most of the wizarding world, especially those in power, accepted their claims, unable to prove otherwise. Lucius and Aiden walked away unscathed, even as others—those without the same influence—were imprisoned or worse.
It was a week before Lily Potter’s memory orb descended upon the Wizarding World, shaking it to its core once again. Narcissa Malfoy, an ever-protective mother, could only admire the lengths to which the late Mrs. Potter had gone to ensure her son's safety. She knew that if she had been in Lily’s position, she would have moved heaven and earth to safeguard Draco. The thought of the Potter boy being left with filthy Muggles who detested magic filled her with a quiet rage. It seemed an injustice that such a precious magical child would grow up in an environment that loathed his very essence.
Even Andromeda, though estranged from much of her family, felt sympathy for young Harry. She may not have shared her family’s disdain for Muggles, but she knew they were not the right guardians for a magical child. Harry needed to grow up surrounded by his own kind, in a world where he would be nurtured and protected. She silently vowed to fight for him, to ensure that if anyone contested his return to those Muggle relatives, she would stand her ground. Even if Harry was too young to understand, she would make sure he had a fighting chance in the world he belonged to.
Bellatrix, on the other hand, was inconsolable in her rage and madness. The news of her lord’s downfall had shattered her, but her faith in him remained unshaken. She was convinced that the Dark Lord was not truly dead, merely biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to return and restore his reign. In her mind, it was only a matter of time before he would come for her, and together they would rise once again.
Nothing had significantly changed for the dark sector, at least for the Malfoys, after the fall of the Dark Lord. Lucius remained deeply embedded in the world of politics, carefully weaving himself into the fabric of the Ministry, making himself indispensable. Narcissa, on the other hand, was part-timing at St. Mungo’s, leaving Draco in the capable hands of Rabastan and Lyra, who was nearing her sixth birthday that year.
It was during one of her shifts that something strange happened. Narcissa had just finished her duties for the day and was making her way to the Apparition point when the sharp crack of another Apparition sounded directly beside her. She instinctively turned to see who had arrived but found herself staring at... nothing.
Confused, she glanced down—and only then did she notice the small child standing before her. The girl couldn’t have been more than two years old. Narcissa crouched down, taking in the tear-streaked face and trembling lips. Something about this lost, inconsolable child struck a chord within her. Without hesitation, Narcissa scooped her up, holding her close as the child cried with all her might.
"Shh, darling," Narcissa cooed, gently rocking the child, trying to calm her down, as she made her way back to her office. "It's alright, you're safe now."
The little girl hiccupped through her sobs, clutching Narcissa tightly. After a few moments, Narcissa spoke softly, "My name is Narcissa Malfoy, what's yours, sweetheart? Can you tell me what happened?"
The child sniffled and looked up at Narcissa with wide, innocent eyes. "My name is Hermione Granger," she said, her small voice surprisingly clear for her age. "I live in the children's home in London."
Narcissa’s heart twinged. A children's home? She couldn't imagine how a child this young had managed to Apparate all the way here. But she kept her voice calm and warm as she asked, "Can you tell me how you got here, Hermione?"
Hermione blinked up at her, her voice wavering. "Some of the older kids… they don’t like me. They were trying to hurt me, and I wished, really hard, to be somewhere safe. Then I was here. I don’t know how I got here," she sobbed, burying her face in Narcissa's robes, "but please, don’t make me go back."
Narcissa was stunned. This small child had performed powerful magic—wish magic, something rarely seen, especially at such a young age. She had heard of accidental magic occurring in young witches and wizards, but this... this was extraordinary.
At that moment, Healer Yaxley entered the room, alerted by the commotion. But Hermione, sensing the presence of a stranger, clung to Narcissa even tighter, clearly frightened. Yaxley took one look at the child’s distressed face and exchanged a glance with Narcissa, who gave him a subtle nod, indicating that she had everything under control. With a silent understanding, he left the room.
Narcissa returned her attention to the girl in her arms. Her heart ached for this child—so small, so vulnerable, yet carrying such immense power. She smiled softly and asked, "Hermione, dear, do you know where your parents are?"
Hermione’s eyes filled with tears once again. "I don’t know," she whispered. "The matron said my parents left me when I was a baby... when I was six months old. She says they didn’t want me." Her voice broke. "Maybe because I’m bad? The other kids call me a freak. Things happen around me... things I can’t control. I’m not a freak, Miss Narcissa. I’m really not."
Narcissa’s heart shattered at the child’s words. She couldn’t fathom how anyone could abandon such a precious, magical child. Suppressing her anger at Hermione’s neglectful parents, she pulled the girl closer and said in the gentlest tone, "Of course you’re not a freak, Hermione. You’re special. What you can do is called magic."
She raised her wand and flicked it, causing a few objects in the room to levitate and dance gracefully in the air. Hermione’s eyes widened in amazement as she watched, her small hands reaching out in awe. The sadness seemed to drain from her as she whispered, "I’m special?"
Narcissa smiled, brushing a lock of hair away from Hermione’s face. "Yes, darling. You’re very special. You have magic, just like me."
Hermione stared at the floating objects, her earlier despair replaced by a wide-eyed sense of wonder. She wasn’t a freak—she was magical. And for the first time in her short life, she felt a spark of hope.
Narcissa carefully checked Hermione over, her healer’s instincts kicking in. The little girl wasn’t seriously injured—just malnourished, but nothing a couple of nutrient potions couldn’t fix. Thankfully, there were no broken bones or lasting physical injuries. Narcissa also assessed that, given her young age, Hermione could recover from the mental and emotional scars with proper care and love. Yet, as she gazed at the fragile child, an inexplicable pull tugged at her heart.
Narcissa had always wanted more children, but after Draco, she had suffered two miscarriages. The healer in her knew that any further pregnancies could be life-threatening. Still, the yearning for more children lingered, and looking at Hermione—so small, vulnerable, and yet powerful—stirred something maternal and protective within her, a fierce need to shield the girl from harm. She found herself thinking the unthinkable: she wanted to keep Hermione, to bring her into their family. A wave of panic washed over her. What was she supposed to do with these feelings? She needed Lucius. Now.
Pressing her thumb to her Lady ring, she sent a subtle pulse of magic that would reach Lucius wherever he was, signaling that she required him immediately.
Lucius and Narcissa’s marriage, while initially arranged under difficult circumstances, had blossomed over the years into a strong, loving partnership. Narcissa was devoted to her husband, and in return, Lucius was loyal and deeply affectionate.
Lucius had returned home earlier and was enjoying a rare, peaceful moment with Draco—an intimate side of him that only his family ever witnessed. His father, Abraxas Malfoy, would likely be rolling in his grave if he saw this tenderness. Abraxas had been a man of sharp edges, always focused on the next great political or financial victory. Softness and affection had never been in his repertoire, not even for his own son or wife. His untimely death to Dragon Pox shortly after Draco’s birth had spared no one—Abraxas had suffered greatly before the disease claimed him.
When Lucius felt the pulse from his ring, he stopped mid-laugh, concern immediately overtaking his features. Narcissa rarely summoned him this way, and when she did, it was never without reason. He picked up Draco, cradling him securely in his arms, and apparated directly to St. Mungo’s without a second thought.
Upon arriving, Lucius made his way to Narcissa's office and stopped short as he took in the sight before him. Narcissa was tending to a small girl, not much older than Draco. Tear streaks still marked the girl’s cheeks, and she looked as though the weight of the world rested on her tiny shoulders. He shot Narcissa a questioning look, silently asking, Who is this?
Narcissa met his gaze and answered the unspoken question. “Hermione, dear, this is my husband, Lucius, and our son, Draco. He’s a little over a year old. Would you like to say hello?” Then, turning to Lucius, she continued, “This is Miss Granger. She lives in a Muggle children’s home in London and Apparated outside St. Mungo’s due to accidental magic.”
Lucius raised an eyebrow, surprised by the revelation. Accidental magic was common among children, but apparating oneself at such a young age was nearly unheard of. His interest piqued further. A witch this powerful at only two years old was destined for greatness.
Narcissa continued, her voice softening as she shared more. “Her parents... abandoned her. The other children at the home torment her, calling her cruel names and even hurting her.” Her lips thinned, barely containing her anger. Lucius could feel the heat of his own rage rising, a familiar loathing for all things muggle bubbling to the surface. What kind of people would leave their child to suffer? Children were a gift. Didn't they know that?
As he processed this, Lucius studied his wife’s face. He could see it—the telltale signs of longing in her eyes. He knew that look well, the same one she had worn when they first spoke of expanding their family. Narcissa was a fiercely protective mother, and she loved Draco with every ounce of her being. But now, it was clear that Hermione had sparked something deep within her. This child, this fragile little girl, had captured Narcissa’s heart. And if Lucius knew one thing, it was that he was utterly helpless when it came to his wife’s desires.
Draco, meanwhile, seemed captivated by Hermione. The toddler was babbling happily, holding up his favorite dragon toy as if introducing her to his prized possession. Hermione, wide-eyed and silent, watched Draco with a mix of awe and longing. Lucius noticed how the little girl’s eyes seemed to light up, as though a world of possibility had just been opened to her—one where love, safety, and family were not mere dreams.
And in that moment, Lucius felt a shift inside himself. He knew, without Narcissa needing to say a word, that their family would be growing by one more. Hermione Granger was no longer a stranger in need of help—she was theirs now. Lucius may have built a life on power and ambition, but for this little girl—his little girl—he would raze worlds to the ground if it meant keeping her safe.
So Lucius, together with Narcissa and the children, apparated to Diagon Alley. From there, they walked toward the towering, white marble structure of Gringotts Wizarding Bank. The imposing building stood as a testament to the goblins' power and mastery over wizarding finances. Upon stepping inside, the family was greeted by the usual hustle and bustle, the clinking of coins, and the stern, calculating gazes of the goblins.
When they reached the teller, they were acknowledged with the bare minimum of politeness goblins afforded the Wixen—a great deal more respect than they showed other families, especially lesser-known ones. Without hesitation, Lucius requested a meeting with their account manager, Gornuk, a high-ranking goblin who had handled the Malfoy accounts for years.
The goblin teller, after a short and scrutinizing glance at Hermione, gestured for them to follow. The Malfoys, plus Hermione, were escorted through a series of winding passages and led into a private room—a luxurious chamber reserved for prestigious clients. The walls were lined with thick ledgers, and a large mahogany table sat in the center of the room, flanked by high-backed leather chairs.
Once seated, Gornuk entered the room and greeted them with a sharp nod. Lucius wasted no time, opening the conversation smoothly, "Gornuk, today we encountered this young girl, Hermione, outside St. Mungo's. She apparated there using wish magic. It seems she was in distress at a muggle children's home in London, where the environment was... hostile, to say the least. Her accidental magic acted in self-defense."
Gornuk’s sharp eyes flickered toward the small child, though his expression remained impassive. Despite his practiced neutrality, Lucius could sense the goblin’s intrigue. Apparition at such a young age, let alone through wish magic, was no small feat. Goblins valued power, and this child had clearly caught Gornuk's attention.
Nodding once to encourage Lucius to continue, Gornuk folded his hands neatly on the table.
"We'd like to conduct a basic inheritance test," Lucius stated, his tone measured. "To determine if Hermione has any relatives in the magical world. I understand that more detailed tests would require a stronger magical core, but for now, a simple test will suffice."
Gornuk gave a slow nod, understanding the request and its limitations. "Very well," he said, his voice gravelly yet professional. "The basic inheritance test requires only a few drops of her blood. Should there be any magical lineage, it will reveal itself."
Hermione had been quietly observing everything around her, her wide eyes taking in the opulence of the bank and the unfamiliar figures of the goblins with unabashed fascination. She looked particularly intrigued by the strange tools and ledgers the goblins handled with precision.
"Hermione, darling," Narcissa began, her voice soft and soothing, "the goblin, Gornuk, would like to prick your finger for just two drops of your blood. It won't hurt much, I promise, and I will heal you immediately after. Is that alright?"
Hermione blinked up at Narcissa, her expression thoughtful and serious for someone so young, as though she were weighing a very important decision. After a long pause, she nodded solemnly, trusting the kind woman who had taken care of her since she arrived. Narcissa offered her a warm smile in return, full of reassurance and affection, before gently guiding Hermione’s small hand forward.
Gornuk produced a thin, needle-like instrument, pricking the tip of Hermione's finger with practiced precision. He collected two drops of her blood on a piece of parchment, and as he began chanting in the deep, guttural tones of Gobbledegook, the blood absorbed into the parchment. Narcissa healed Hermione’s finger with a soft "Episkey," the tiny wound closing instantly.
Hermione, wide-eyed, shifted her attention between the glowing parchment and the adults around her. She didn’t fully understand what was happening, but the air of importance in the room wasn’t lost on her. The blood on the parchment swirled and pulsed, shifting into intricate, glowing lines that slowly morphed into recognizable symbols and names.
Gornuk studied the results closely, his sharp goblin eyes widening slightly. He raised a brow and handed the parchment to Lucius. "It seems the girl does, in fact, have a magical lineage," he said, his voice laced with faint surprise. "However, there hasn't been any recorded magic from the Dagworth-Granger family in quite some time. The last known member was Hector Dagworth-Granger, founder of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers. If she has any additional connections, they won’t appear until a more in-depth test is conducted, either when she is seven or eleven."
Lucius took the parchment, scanning the names with keen interest. His brow furrowed slightly as he processed what he was reading. "This... this cannot be possible," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. The girl they had met outside St. Mungo's—a child abandoned in a muggle orphanage—was connected to a magical family. The Dagworth-Grangers were not a particularly influential line in modern times, but their heritage in potion-making was notable.
Narcissa, while surprised, was not entirely shocked. She had sensed something special about the girl from the moment they met, something that transcended her remarkable magical abilities. Still, this revelation had changed the stakes entirely. Hermione Granger was not just any child; she was part of their world, whether she knew it or not.
Breaking the silence, Narcissa turned to Hermione, her voice filled with the gentle warmth she reserved for Draco. "Hermione," she began carefully, "I know we’ve only just met, but I already care for you very much. Lucius and I… well, we would like to adopt you."
Hermione tilted her head in confusion, her young mind struggling to grasp the meaning of the word. Sensing this, Narcissa quickly added, her voice soft but earnest, "That means you would live with us as our daughter, if that’s what you want. We would be your family."
For a moment, Hermione simply stared at her, her little brow furrowed in thought. Then her eyes, still glistening with the remnants of her earlier tears, grew impossibly wide, filled with something Narcissa recognized immediately—hope. A fragile, desperate hope that nearly broke her heart.
"You... you want to be my mum and dad? Like a real mum and dad? And you won’t leave me at a children’s home again?" Hermione asked, her voice so small, so unsure, that it made Lucius shift uncomfortably in his seat, the weight of the child’s vulnerability pressing down on him.
Narcissa’s heart ached at the question, but she infused as much warmth and sincerity into her response as she could. "Never, sweetheart. We would never leave you, not in any home or orphanage. You would be our daughter, and we would love you as much as we love our son, Draco. Look, he already likes you so much," she added with a soft smile, gesturing to Draco, who was gurgling away happily in his father’s lap, oblivious to the gravity of the moment.
"Would you like to be his big sister?" Narcissa asked gently, her voice slightly trembling with anticipation.
Hermione stood frozen for a moment, as though afraid that this was all some wonderful dream she might wake from. But when Narcissa’s words fully sank in, the little girl’s face lit up with pure joy. She flung herself into Narcissa’s arms, clinging to her with all the strength her tiny body could muster.
"I would like that very much," Hermione whispered, her voice full of determination, though her eyes glistened with the unshed tears of a child who had dared to hope. "I want to go home with you, Miss Narcissa."
Narcissa held Hermione close, her heart swelling with love for the brave little girl. She glanced at Lucius, who had been observing the scene quietly, and he gave her a small, approving nod. They both knew it—their family had just grown by one. Narcissa had finally filled the empty space in her heart, and Lucius knew he would protect Hermione as fiercely as he would Draco.
Gornuk observed the scene with a flicker of surprise, though he expertly masked his emotions as only a seasoned goblin could. The Malfoys, known for their aloof and stoic demeanor, rarely displayed vulnerability, let alone affection, in public. Yet, here they were, showing genuine warmth toward the little girl. It seemed Hermione had a unique effect on them.
Clearing his throat, Gornuk asked, "What kind of adoption would you like to pursue? There are three types: a legal adoption on paper, a magical adoption, or a blood adoption."
Lucius, recognizing the need to explain this to Hermione in terms she could grasp, turned to the little girl sitting between him and Narcissa. Draco, now quiet and drowsy from the day's events, rested contentedly in his father's arms.
"Hermione," Lucius began, his voice gentle but firm, "for us to take you home, we need to fill out some official papers, so that no one can take you away from us. Do you understand that?"
Hermione, who had already formed an attachment to the kind couple, nodded quickly. "I don’t want to go anywhere, Mister Lucius. I want to stay with you," she said earnestly, her wide eyes full of trust.
Narcissa smiled softly, taking Hermione’s small hand in her own. "Sweetheart, there are three ways we can make sure you stay with us forever. The first option is that we simply say we’ve adopted you, and that would allow you to come home with us. But, while this is a good start, it means someone might still try to take you away one day." Hermione's brow furrowed, clearly not liking this option.
"The second option," Narcissa continued, "is a magical adoption. This means we would make a binding magical promise that you are our daughter, and no one could ever contest that."
Hermione looked thoughtful, clearly processing the information. But before she could respond, Narcissa gently added, "The third option is called a blood adoption. With this, we would add some of our blood to a potion, like the one you drank at the hospital that made your pain go away. It would make you even more connected to us—so much so that you might start to look a little like us. You would still have some of your own features, but you might look more like a Malfoy than a Granger."
Hermione’s eyes widened with curiosity. She had always been a fast learner, one who loved listening when the matron read stories at the children's home. Even at two years old, she could tell that either the magical adoption or the blood adoption was the better option. "If I look more like you and Mister Lucius, would my hair change to your color?" she asked innocently, running her small fingers through her messy curls.
Narcissa, whose heart longed for Hermione to become fully theirs, answered carefully. "It could, darling. Your hair, your eyes, some things might change. But I can’t say exactly how."
Hermione thought for a long moment. Finally, she looked up at Narcissa with determined eyes. "I want to be your daughter. Fully. I don't know my parents, I've never seen them. I want you to be my mum and dad—forever. So, I want the option that makes me your real daughter. I want your hair, your eyes—everything. I want to be a Malfoy."
Lucius and Narcissa exchanged a glance, a wave of joy and relief washing over them both. They had hoped for this, but hearing the little girl’s decision made their hearts swell with happiness. "Then that’s what we’ll do," Lucius said, his voice filled with warmth.
Gornuk, who had remained a silent observer during the exchange, wasted no time. He retrieved the necessary ingredients and the blood adoption potion, setting it before them with professional efficiency. Lucius and Narcissa both pricked their fingers, adding five drops of blood each to the potion. Instantly, the liquid turned a deep, shimmering purple, indicating that it was ready.
Hermione watched the process with wide eyes, then took the small vial of potion in her tiny hands. With a look of determination, she downed the potion in one swift gulp.
The changes were almost immediate.
Hermione’s skin became fairer, the soft, warm brown tones fading slightly into a more porcelain-like complexion, not unlike Narcissa’s. Her wild curls smoothed into silky strands, still retaining their natural curl but more controlled, and the color lightened from chestnut brown to a dirty blonde, a mixture of her original shade and Narcissa’s platinum hair. Her eyes, once a warm shade of brown, transformed into a striking slate grey, a trait common in the Black family.
Lucius and Narcissa watched in awe as Hermione’s transformation took hold. She was now undeniably a Malfoy in appearance, though her unique charm still shone through. She was beautiful, even at two years old, and Lucius could already foresee that she would be a striking young witch one day. Draco, now fully awake and intrigued by the changes in Hermione, babbled excitedly, reaching out to her with a grin, as if welcoming her into the family.
Hermione, feeling the subtle but significant changes in her body, looked up at Narcissa with a question in her eyes. Narcissa, full of pride and love for the little girl who had just become her daughter, produced a small mirror and held it out for Hermione.
The child took the mirror in her hands and gazed at her reflection, blinking in surprise. Her unruly hair, now sleek and more like Narcissa's, framed her face elegantly. Her teeth, once slightly crooked, had straightened, and her complexion glowed with health and magic. She touched her face in wonder, a shy smile creeping onto her lips. "I look different," she whispered, clearly pleased with the transformation. "I like it. I look like you now."
Narcissa knelt beside her and wrapped her in a gentle hug. "You are perfect, Hermione. You are our daughter now, in every way that matters." Hermione clung to her, feeling safe and loved, her deepest wish finally fulfilled.
Hermione, still marveling at her transformation, had one more question, her voice soft but filled with hope. "Will I be Hermione Malfoy now?" she asked, looking up at Narcissa and Lucius with wide eyes.
Lucius, standing nearby with Draco in his arms, smiled warmly. "If that is what you want, you can be Hermione Malfoy," he said, his voice full of affection. "Anything you want, little one."
Hermione furrowed her brow thoughtfully, as if carefully considering her next words. "I’m your daughter now," she said slowly, "so can you give me a new name? So I can be... a new person?"
Both Lucius and Narcissa were momentarily taken aback. This was beyond what they had hoped for—a complete fresh start for Hermione. The weight of her request tugged at Narcissa’s heart. It was clear that the little girl wanted to fully embrace her new life, to leave behind whatever fragments of her past had caused her so much pain.
Narcissa, still kneeling down beside her, brushing a soft hand through Hermione’s newly-silken hair. "Of course, sweetheart. We are half Blacks, and in my family, we often name our children after stars or constellations. Would you like that?" she asked gently.
Hermione’s eyes lit up, clearly intrigued by the idea. Narcissa continued, her tone soft but filled with love, "How does Maia Narcissa Malfoy sound to you?"
Narcissa saw the spark of joy in Hermione’s face even before the little girl responded. The name seemed to resonate deeply within her. Maia—a new identity, a new beginning, while still holding onto a part of Narcissa as her middle name.
Hermione—now Maia—nodded enthusiastically, her smile stretching wide across her face. "Yes!" she exclaimed, her voice brimming with excitement. She repeated it again, almost as if testing out her new name. "Maia Malfoy."
Narcissa pulled Maia into a warm embrace, her heart swelling with happiness. "Maia Malfoy it is," she whispered softly, her voice thick with emotion.
Lucius, watching the two of them, felt an unfamiliar tightness in his chest—an overwhelming sense of contentment and pride in his new family. He approached, resting a hand on Narcissa’s shoulder and leaning down to kiss Hermione softly on her newly-silken curls, "Welcome to the family, my little princess," he said softly, his voice uncharacteristically tender, filled with pride and affection.
With the name now settled, they turned back to Gornuk, who had been patiently waiting. The adoption papers were swiftly filled out, making Maia’s new name official in both the magical and muggle worlds. Lucius wanted to ensure there were no complications regarding her heritage.
"Gornuk," Lucius began, "this blood adoption won’t interfere with her connection to the Dagworth-Granger line, correct?"
Gornuk, ever efficient, nodded. "Despite her going by a different name, Maia is still a part of the Dagworth-Granger line. There are no inheritance rights attached to it, as it’s not an ancient family, but the vault holds a few books and artifacts, which she can access when she is of age. Beyond that, there’s no heirship claim to worry about."
Lucius and Narcissa exchanged a glance, satisfied with the explanation. While the Dagworth-Granger family line had dwindled, Maia’s future would be secure as a Malfoy. They could return in a few years with both Draco and Maia to perform full heirship tests, ensuring that all magical legacies were properly acknowledged. But for now, they were content with the knowledge that Maia’s new life was beginning.
As the Malfoys prepared to leave Gringotts, their hearts full of contentment, Lucius and Narcissa shared a quiet, knowing smile. Their family was now complete. Maia's adoption had not only brought a new light into their lives, but it also had given Hermione—now Maia—a future filled with love, security, and magic. Draco, for his part, seemed delighted with the new addition to the family, giggling happily as Maia held his hand, already assuming her role as his big sister.
As they exited the bank, stepping back into the bustling streets of Diagon Alley, Narcissa couldn’t help but reflect on the full circle her life had come. There had been three daughters in the House of Black before: Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa. Each had carved their own paths in the world—some for better, others for worse. Now, with Maia, Lyra, and Carina, the new generation of daughters in the House of Black had emerged. It was impossible not to wonder how these three would shape the Wizarding World in the years to come.
For the first time in what felt like a long while, Narcissa felt a sense of peace and excitement for the future. Whatever lay ahead, Maia, Draco, and their family would face it together—stronger, more united, and bound by the unbreakable ties of love.