Chapter 1
The grand chamber of the Wizengamot loomed as imposing as ever, its high ceilings stretching into shadows, casting an air of formality over the gathered witches and wizards. Orion Black sat tall in his designated seat, his bearing quiet yet commanding, radiating the kind of respect only a true patriarch could summon. At his side, his wife, Walburga Black, maintained her perfect posture, her expression schooled into the cold neutrality of someone born to command attention. Flanking her were their sons, Sirius and Regulus, both dressed in impeccably tailored black robes, their gazes steady as they absorbed every detail of the proceedings.
At Orion’s feet lay his partner in independence, a sleek, well-trained Cane Corso, its deep black coat gleaming under the chamber’s enchanted lights. The service dog was dressed in a white biothane harness edged with fine black gems that subtly nodded to the Black family’s regal standing. A sturdy gray counterbalance handle rested across its back, paired with a rigid offset guide handle ready to assist Orion’s every move. The dark red medical cape it wore bore crisp, bold lettering in black: Mobility Assistance, Medical Alert.
When Orion rose, his cane clicked softly against the polished floor. The service dog immediately stood, moving into position beside him, its demeanor calm and focused, a silent shadow ensuring his stability and safety. The murmurs in the chamber hushed as every gaze turned toward Orion, a man whose presence demanded attention even in silence.
"The proposed bill on restricting the use of non-traditional magic," Orion began, his voice smooth and firm, "is short-sighted. It risks sowing division where unity is needed and stifling creativity where innovation should thrive. To legislate against magic simply because it is different is to deny the very spirit of our craft."
His words resonated through the chamber, met with murmurs of both agreement and dissent. Beside him, the Cane Corso’s ears twitched, attuned not just to the room but to Orion’s body language. Every muscle in the dog’s frame was a testament to its training, ready to steady or guide him at the slightest signal.
Walburga Black, ever the poised matriarch, kept her focus forward, her expression unreadable save for a subtle tightening of her jaw. Her sons mirrored her discipline. Sirius’s fingers fidgeted with the hem of his robe, a telltale sign of his restless energy, while Regulus sat impeccably still, absorbing every word and movement in the chamber like a student of strategy.
Orion raised a hand to silence a rising objection from across the room. His service dog shifted slightly to maintain its position as he moved, its movements as seamless as a well-rehearsed dance. "Our history is rich with examples of breakthroughs born from what was once considered unconventional. To legislate fear of the unknown is to stifle the very progress that defines us."
As he returned to his seat, the Cane Corso moved in unison with him, its alert gaze sweeping the space. Orion leaned into his cane slightly as he sat, his dog settling at his feet, one paw stretching forward before it stilled, ever watchful.
"The floor is now open for further discussion," the Chief Warlock declared, his voice carrying across the chamber. Yet Orion’s words lingered, their weight undeniable.
Walburga leaned slightly toward her sons, her voice a soft, commanding whisper. "Watch closely. Power isn’t in spells or wands. It’s in the way one moves a room with words."
Sirius, ever the rebel, gave her a sly smirk and a small nod. Regulus, more solemn, inclined his head slightly, his sharp gray eyes watching the room as the debates resumed.
The Black family, seated as still and composed as ancient statues, radiated power, confidence, and unity. At Orion’s feet, his service dog’s quiet vigilance spoke of the trust and partnership between handler and canine—one of calm strength amidst the storm of politics.
The grand chamber of the Wizengamot buzzed with murmurs of debate as Orion Black resumed his seat, his hand lightly resting on the head of his cane. At his side, his service dog—a sleek, black Cane Corso—lay in a perfect down-stay, its alert eyes scanning the room. The dog's biothane harness and counterbalance handle gleamed under the enchanted lights, and the bold lettering on its cape—Mobility Assistance, Medical Alert—made its role unmistakable. It was a constant presence, calm and composed, much like its handler.
The quiet didn’t last. From across the chamber, a voice broke through. "Forgive me, Lord Black," drawled Amos Shacklebolt, his Light family crest prominently displayed on his chest. His tone was smooth, but the edge of condescension was hard to miss. "But some have raised concerns about... credibility. While your reliance on a service animal is commendable, it does raise questions about whether you’re fully capable of fulfilling your duties."
The chamber’s hum grew louder, whispers rippling across the room. Walburga Black’s face remained a mask of icy control, but her sharp gaze locked onto Shacklebolt with a simmering fury. Regulus stiffened in his seat, his jaw tight, while Sirius slouched with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, though his expression quickly hardened.
Orion, however, remained calm. His hand dropped to his dog’s head, fingers brushing over its ears in a motion as natural as breathing. Then, gripping his cane, he stood. The dog's harness creaked faintly as it shifted to provide support, and it moved seamlessly into a heel at Orion’s side, steady as a rock.
"Mr. Shacklebolt," Orion began, his voice smooth and even, "I appreciate your concern. However, I feel it necessary to clarify some misconceptions—both about myself and about the role of my service dog."
The room quieted. Orion's gaze swept the chamber, meeting the eyes of those who waited for him to falter. Instead, he stood taller, leaning on the unwavering strength of his dog.
"My service dog is not a symbol of weakness. It is a tool that enables me to perform my duties to the fullest. Mobility challenges do not diminish my capacity for reason, judgment, or leadership. Quite the opposite—they have taught me resilience, adaptability, and foresight. Qualities, I might add, that are essential in this chamber."
He paused, allowing his words to sink in, his hand resting lightly on the harness handle. "Credibility is not measured by the absence of challenges, Mr. Shacklebolt, but by how one overcomes them. My dog ensures I can engage fully in life and work. It is not a crutch but a partner, one that allows me to bring my best self to this body."
There was a murmur of agreement from several seats. Orion didn’t stop.
"If you wish to challenge my arguments, do so based on their merit—not on the presence of my dog. To do otherwise is to undermine the principles of equality and respect that this body is meant to uphold."
Shacklebolt shifted uncomfortably, clearly not expecting such a direct response. "Of course, Lord Black," he said, his voice tight. "I meant no disrespect. I only voiced what others might question."
Walburga leaned forward slightly, her voice cutting through the chamber like ice. "Then perhaps those others would benefit from re-evaluating their priorities. Lord Black’s contributions are based on wisdom and experience, not appearances or superficial assumptions."
Eldritch Cuffe, a neutral member of the Wizengamot, nodded. "I must agree with Lady Black. Orion’s credibility should never be questioned based on such a shallow premise. His contributions are invaluable, and we are fortunate to have him."
Several others murmured their agreement, the tide of the room clearly shifting.
Shacklebolt bowed his head slightly. "My apologies, Lord Black. I meant no harm."
Orion inclined his head in acceptance, his poise unshaken. He returned to his seat, his dog settling at his feet once more, perfectly calm despite the tension that had filled the room.
Walburga leaned toward him, her voice low. "That should put them in their place."
Orion’s hand brushed over the dog’s harness, his expression serene. "Let them question me. Every time they do, I’ll give them more reason to listen." His fingers absently scratched behind the Cane Corso’s ear, the dog leaning into the touch with quiet trust.
Sirius smirked, watching his father with newfound admiration. Regulus sat silent but attentive, absorbing the unshakable dignity and strength his father exuded. They had learned an invaluable lesson: power wasn’t about brute strength but resilience, composure, and the ability to turn doubt into respect.