The Black Lion

The Black Lion 

Chapter 15

Regulus leads Hermione deeper into the halls of the Black Manor it seemed as though the halls hummed latent magic. As she looked around with interest taking in everything she could about her family home. She opened and closed her mouth wanting to ask a question but not sure what to ask. Distracted she runs into Regulus back

“This room,” Regulus began, pushing open a grand set of oak doors, “houses the Black family’s magical ledger.”

Hermione stepped inside to find a vast circular chamber lined with shelves of tomes, vials of memories, and enchanted objects. In the center stood a podium with an open book that glowed faintly with shifting ink. The pages turned as if alive, revealing names, magical specialties, and notable achievements of the Black lineage.

Regulus gestured for Hermione to sit. "Today, you’ll begin to understand not only what it means to be the Black heir but what it means to carry our magic."

Hermione raises an eyebrow at him as she takes her seat across from him. “You’ve mentioned it before, what makes it so different than regular magic? Like the magic we are taught at Hogwarts?” she questions 

Regulus smiled slightly at her questions. “Unlike what you’re taught at Hogwarts, your family magic is in a way your essence that's woven into your blood. It’s what makes your magic yours. Think of it as an inheritance. It helps guide your magic.” he explains.

Nodding her head slightly, she understood the concept but was still slightly confused about why it was so important. 

Smiling seeing the screws in her head turning and trying to understand Regulus continues, “The Black family, for instance, is known for our mastery of dueling and mind magic skills that come naturally to us. But it’s a double-edged sword. That same magic fuels what others call the Black madness."

Hermione’s breath hitched. “The Black madness? That’s... real?”

Regulus’s jaw tightened. “Bellatrix’s obsession, Sirius’s recklessness, my own impulsive decisions—all of it amplified by our magic. Even Narcissa isn’t untouched; her control comes at a cost. Andromeda tried to escape it entirely. Our magic is powerful, but without balance, it consumes us.”

He glanced at Hermione’s arm, where her fingers absentmindedly traced the scars hidden beneath her sleeve. “Think of Bellatrix,” he said grimly. “That’s what happens when you let it take over.”

“How does this madness affect me?” she asks him softly.

Regulus’s lips pressed into a thin line, but before he could answer, a deep voice interrupted from the portrait above the fireplace.

"It’s not just the Black magic, girl. It’s your mother’s as well." Arcturus Black’s painted visage looked down at her with an appraising eye. 

Regulus groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Grandfather, I left you in the other room for a reason.”

“And I chose to follow,” Arcturus said with a smirk. He turned his sharp gaze to Hermione. “Your mother may have been a half-blood, but she was what we call a True Witch.”

Hermione looks back at him, “Everyone keeps saying she was a true witch but what does that mean.”

“Don’t answer that, grandfather I will tell her when she needs to know.” Regulus growls out his hand tightening on the edge of the table his knuckles almost white from the grip.

“Enough, Regulus,” Arcturus snapped. “She’s the heir. She deserves the truth.” His tone softened as he addressed Hermione. “A True Witch is a rarity, a magical prodigy whose power isn’t just strong it’s instinctual, raw, and unyielding. They don’t just use magic; they shape it, and bend it to their will. But such power is dangerous. If you can’t control it, you’ll become a threat to yourself and the wizarding world.”

Hermione swallowed hard, “And my mother was one?” she asked.

Nodding his head Regulus sighs pinching the bridge of his nose, “Yes, that's why the Dark Lord wanted her on his side. That’s why we went into hiding when we found out she was pregnant with you.” he explains.

Hermione’s mind swirled with questions, but one stood out. “If you hid me, how do you know all of this?” she asked, her gaze narrowing on Arcturus.

Regulus stiffened, clearly caught off guard. “That’s... a good question.”

‘She’s right I hid her from everyone how did grandfather know?’ he questions himself.

Arcturus chuckled darkly. “Phineas. He recognized you the moment he saw you in Dumbledore’s office. Our family magic is unmistakable to someone like him. He didn’t trust Dumbledore with the truth, so he came straight to me.”

Hermione jaw drops at the information.

‘That explains all the odd looks he used to give me when I was in Dumbledore's office.’ she thinks.

“He knew and never said anything?” she asks.

“Of course not,” Arcturus scoffed. “Phineas never liked Dumbledore meddling in our family affairs. He saw what he did to the Potters to know better than to say anything about our family to that meddling fool.”

Regulus coughs and gives his grandfather a sharp look.

“Hermione every family has their strengths over others, that's why the Black family is so sought out” Regulus tells her changing the subject.

“It’s not just the Black magic, girl. It’s the mediocrity of other families that sets us apart.” Arcturus tunes in with a smirk.

“Grandfather!” Regulus groans out.

Arcturus ignored him, focusing on Hermione. “You’ve seen the Weasleys, haven’t you? Their magic is as threadbare as their robes.”

Hermione tenses up at the mention of her old friends, “The Weasleys are-”

Arcturus holds up his hand stopping her, “Stubborn I’ll give them that! Their magic excels in adaptability charms, enchantments, and tinkering with Muggle artifacts. But real power? Discipline? They haven’t had that since the age of the Founders. Too good to play in wizarding politics and now look at them”

Hermione glared at him, she might be at odds with Ron but Arcturus was being a snob. 

Regulus cut in smoothly cutting the tension. “What he means, Hermione, is that the Weasleys’ strength lies in creativity. They’ve thrived despite limited resources, which is a testament to their magic.”

“Hmph,” Arcturus scoffed, “And those Potters, a family built on blind loyalty and recklessness. They’re lucky their fortune hasn’t crumbled, given how often they throw themselves into danger. Good thing you aren't that boy’s friend anymore girl, he’s a teapot waiting to explode.”

“What he means, is that the Potters’ family magic revolves around honor and loyalty. It’s powerful in its own right, but there’s a reason Harry struggles. He’s not living up to it.” Regulus interrupts giving his grandfather another sharp look.

“What do you mean? Will Harry be okay?’ Hermione asks in a slight panic. Harry was still her little brother even if he picked Ron over her.

“Family magic has rules,” Regulus explained. “When you act against the principles of your lineage, it pushes back. Harry’s been distancing himself from Sirius, the last family he has. Sirius has been trying to tell him but Harry has ignored him.”

Hermione crossed her arms. “What about other families? The Longbottoms, for example?”

Regulus smiled faintly. “The Longbottoms excel in herbology and endurance. Their magic is rooted in resilience, which is why Neville’s growth has been so extraordinary.”

“And the Lovegoods?” Hermione asked, curious.

“Ah, the Lovegoods,” Arcturus said with a sneer. “Their magic is as peculiar as their minds. Visionaries, yes, but scatterbrained. They dance the line between brilliance and insanity.”

Hermione frowned. “That sounds a bit like the Blacks.”

Regulus laughed quietly. “She’s not wrong, Grandfather.”

Arcturus grumbled. “We’ve always had our eccentricities, but at least we don’t chase invisible creatures.”

Hermione hesitated, her thoughts drifting. She’d learned so much about the Blacks and the other families, but another name lingered at the edge of her mind, unspoken yet persistent. She bit her lip, then finally gave in.

“And the Malfoys?” The question tumbled out before she could stop herself. Her cheeks warmed as she glanced at Regulus.

Arcturus’s expression darkened slightly a small sneer forming on his face, but Regulus answered first. “The Malfoys have a knack for transfiguration and warding. Their magic is precise and calculated much like the family itself. Lucius used it to craft some of the most impenetrable wards during the war.”

Arcturus let out a derisive snort. “The Malfoys are opportunists, always seeking power but lacking the raw magical talent of the Blacks. They thrive on connections and cunning. It’s why they married into our family to elevate themselves.”

Regulus’s lips twitched. “Careful, Grandfather. Narcissa might hear you talking about the family she married into.”

Hermione looked thoughtful. “So... the Malfoys’ strength is in their strategy?”

“Exactly,” Regulus confirmed. “They’re not as magically overpowering as some families, but they’re dangerous because they know how to use what they have.”

“And what about Draco?” Hermione asked softly.

Arcturus rolled his eyes. “A pale imitation of his mother, if you ask me. If the ledger is correct.”

“Grandfather!” Regulus barked, his tone sharp. “Draco’s young, and he’s grown under Lucius’s shadow. He’s learning who he is now.”

Hermione gave Regulus a small, contemplative smile. “Interesting.”

Before Arcturs could respond, Regulus cleared his throat. “There’s something else you should see,” he tells her.

“This belonged to your mother,” Regulus said, his voice barely above a whisper. He gently placed the small, ornate chest on the table, its lock shimmering faintly with enchantments.

Hermione’s fingers hovered over the chest, hesitant. When she finally opened it, a soft sigh of magic escaped, as though the contents had been waiting for her touch. Inside, nestled among photographs and delicate trinkets, was a worn diary.

Her hands trembled as she picked it up. The leather was smooth but weathered, the initials “D.B.” etched in gold, faint but unmistakable. Hermione swallowed hard and flipped it open. Her breath caught at the first line: To my child, if you ever find this...

Tears blurred her vision, and she looked up at Regulus. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Regulus hesitates before wrapping his arm around her hugging back. “Anything for you, my daughter.” he whispers.