Chapter 5
Orion sat in his chair, cradling Red’s head gently in his lap as the room quieted. The rhythmic tick of a clock filled the space, grounding him as he stroked the sleek fur of his service dog. Red, ever attentive, remained still, his presence steady and calming as Orion’s thoughts churned. Nearby, Walburga perched gracefully, her composed exterior doing little to hide the concern in her sharp gaze.
The soft creak of the door drew Orion’s attention, and he glanced up as Sirius and Regulus entered. Their steps were quieter than usual, their expressions a mixture of worry and care. Sirius’s usual boldness had softened, and Regulus’s steady presence spoke volumes without words.
“Father,” Sirius began, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “Mother told us you weren’t feeling well.”
Regulus nodded, his keen eyes scanning the room and landing on Red. “We wanted to check on you,” he added, stepping closer.
Orion adjusted his posture, trying to appear stronger than he felt. He had always been the pillar of the family, the one who others relied on. But the weight of his condition had grown too heavy to ignore. Red stirred slightly, sensing the shift in the air, but stayed at Orion’s side, always ready.
“You both know I’ve been… having a harder time lately,” Orion began, his voice steady but low. “There are days when even moving feels like a battle.”
Sirius and Regulus exchanged a glance but didn’t interrupt. Orion exhaled, running a hand over Red’s head as he continued. “Red has been a lifeline for me. He retrieves my medications, helps me when I’m unsteady, and keeps me grounded. But even with his help, there are times I feel… limited.”
“Father, it’s okay,” Regulus said gently, his expression calm but supportive. “You don’t have to do everything on your own.”
Orion hesitated, his pride wrestling with the vulnerability of the moment. “I’ve been considering using a wheelchair on the worst days,” he admitted finally, his voice quieter now, as if testing how the words felt out loud.
The room grew still, the weight of his confession hanging in the air. For a moment, Orion wondered if he’d see pity in their eyes, but what he found instead was acceptance.
“If it helps you, then you should,” Sirius said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’ve always done so much for us—it’s time you let us do something for you.”
Regulus nodded, stepping forward to rest a hand lightly on the arm of Orion’s chair. “You’ve taught us what strength looks like, Father. And it’s not about pushing through pain alone—it’s about knowing when to ask for help.”
Orion felt the tightness in his chest ease, just a little. For so long, he had feared being seen as weak, but here, in his sons’ unwavering support, he saw a different kind of strength. Red nudged his leg gently, grounding him once more as if to say, You’re not alone.
Walburga finally spoke, her voice firm yet warm. “You’ve been the backbone of this family for decades, Orion. It’s time we support you in the same way you’ve supported us.”
Orion met her gaze, the words settling deep within him. Red’s steady presence at his side, his sons’ earnest expressions, and Walburga’s unwavering loyalty made him realize he didn’t have to shoulder everything alone.
Sirius offered a small smirk, the trademark mischief flickering back into his eyes. “Besides, you’d make the wheelchair look dignified. The Blacks set trends, after all.”
Orion chuckled, shaking his head but appreciating Sirius’s attempt to lighten the mood. He looked down at Red, who gazed up at him with unwavering focus, and stroked the dog’s head. “Good boy,” he murmured, his voice filled with quiet gratitude.
In that moment, Orion understood something profound: strength wasn’t about standing tall every day. Sometimes, it was about allowing others—and a loyal service dog—to help carry the weight. Together, they would face whatever came next, united as a family.
The following morning, the air in Black Manor was thick with a quiet resolve. Orion had been up before dawn, sitting in his study with Red by his side, deep in thought. The conversation with his sons the night before had left him feeling both reassured and unsettled. There was comfort in knowing they didn’t think less of him, but now came the challenge of accepting this new reality.
As the early light filtered through the thick curtains, Orion rubbed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. His cane rested against the desk, and beside him, Red sat attentively, eyes scanning the room for any sign of instruction. The dog’s presence was a constant support, a reassurance that Orion wasn’t facing this alone. He could feel the ache returning to his joints, sharp and relentless. Though his pride still fought against the idea of needing a wheelchair, he knew he had no choice but to face the inevitable.
A soft knock at the door preceded Walburga’s entrance. Her presence was commanding, but her gaze softened when she saw Orion. She moved across the room with her usual grace, sitting beside him, her posture dignified but with an undercurrent of concern.
“You didn’t sleep much, did you?” she asked, her voice gentle, understanding the weight of the thoughts on his mind.
Orion shook his head, letting out a sigh. “There’s a lot to consider.”
Walburga studied him for a moment before her gaze flicked to Red, who sat patiently, watching them both. “He’s been with you through all of this. And now… you’ll need to let him do even more.”
Orion glanced down at Red, whose ears perked up slightly, sensing their focus on him. A faint smile tugged at the corner of Orion’s lips. “He’s been more loyal than I deserve.”
Walburga raised an eyebrow. “Don’t be foolish. You’ve earned the right to lean on others, whether it’s Red or the family.” She paused, choosing her next words carefully. “Orion, we need to make arrangements.”
Orion’s jaw tightened, knowing exactly what she meant. “A wheelchair,” he muttered, bitterness creeping into his voice. “I never imagined I’d need one.”
Walburga leaned forward, her hand resting lightly on his. “It doesn’t diminish who you are, Orion. You’re still the head of this family. A chair won’t change that.”
For a moment, Orion was silent, letting her words sink in. It was difficult to accept, but Walburga’s unwavering confidence in him was a steadying force. He nodded slowly. “You’re right. I know you’re right.”
“We’ll order one today,” she said decisively. “And it’ll be the best. We’ll make sure of it.”
Before Orion could respond, a knock sounded at the door. Sirius and Regulus stepped inside, their expressions carefully neutral, but the concern in their eyes was unmistakable.
“Can we come in?” Regulus asked, his tone polite but tinged with worry.
Orion gestured for them to enter. “Of course.”
Sirius was the first to step forward, his usual swagger subdued by the gravity of the situation. He looked at Orion with a mixture of respect and concern. “We’ve been talking,” he began. “And we were wondering… if there’s anything we can do to help. You know, with the chair and everything.”
Regulus nodded, his voice steady and earnest. “We’ve got connections at the Ministry. We could have something custom-made—something that works for you.”
Orion’s throat tightened. He had expected support, but this level of involvement was unexpected. His sons, always so fiercely independent, now offering to help him in such a personal way—it was humbling.
“I—thank you,” Orion said, his voice rough with emotion. “I didn’t expect you both to take such an interest.”
Sirius shrugged but met his father’s gaze with rare seriousness. “You’ve done so much for us, Father. It’s time we do something for you.”
Orion nodded slowly, gratitude swelling within him. “It means a lot. I won’t lie… it’s hard to accept this, but knowing you’re both here for me makes it easier.”
Regulus smiled softly. “We’ll make sure it’s something you’re comfortable with. It’s just a tool—like anything else. It won’t limit you.”
Walburga gave her sons a rare look of approval. “We are Blacks,” she said firmly. “We don’t do things halfway.”
Orion chuckled at that, the tension easing slightly in the room. “Indeed,” he agreed, his eyes drifting to Red, who remained alert by his side. “And I won’t be alone in this transition. Red will still be with me.”
Sirius crouched down, giving Red a gentle pat on the head. “Good boy,” he murmured affectionately. “He’s been a real help.”
“He has,” Orion agreed. “And he’ll continue to be. But it’s not just him. It’s all of you.”
The family stood together in a rare moment of unity, understanding that while things were changing, they would face it head-on. They would ensure Orion’s needs were met, and his strength would continue to guide them—even if it now came with the help of a wheelchair and the loyal companionship of Red.
As the morning light grew stronger, casting long shadows through the manor, the Black family stood resolute. The challenges ahead would be met with the same determination they had always shown, and Orion, though humbled by his new circumstances, knew he would never face them alone.