Chapter 2
There was nothing that Sirius hated more than having his hair combed back. This wasn’t completely true- he supposed there were always worse states he could be in. Worse states he had most definitely been in. Regardless, as he weaved through the crowd of pureblood witches and wizards, the stench of new clothes and stale hair gel in the air, he decided that complying with the bland dress code had not been the best choice for the sake of his mental state. Of course, it allowed him to effectively blend into the backdrop of dark House colours- permitting him the small mercy of fading into the background noise.
This wasn’t a difficult feat, not when the Malfoys had been appointed the hosts of this particular House meeting. Their own Manor, which eerily resembled Sirius’ own, had sparse decoration. That is, if you were speaking about furniture; the ornate glass cages for pixies and various other magical beasts that floated near the arched ceiling allowed the occasional screech of a claw to drift down to the guests. Sirius shivered as he glanced up at the lightly swinging enclosures, watching the light from the chandeliers intersect with the panes of glass. The Malfoys were always prone to showing off, and he supposed that when given the opportunity to host all 12 Houses, a bit of subtle gloating was in order.
Aside from this gruesome and rather blatant display of brute force, Malfoy Manor appeared as many of the other Manors did: regal, elegant, with a cold air of mystery. The room where Sirius now mingled with other purebloods was decorated for the occasion; banners with the deep green of House Malfoy lined the walls, falling to the floor beneath portraits of various Malfoy family members. Tables draped in black were scattered throughout the space, housing trays of appetisers and glasses of champagne. It was one of these glasses that Sirius now held in one hand, tracing his finger around the rim in a display of aloof boredom.
Monthly House events had always been dreary. Primarily political affairs, they functioned as shows of power by the individual Houses, flaunting their daughters and sons and their apparent wealth. They served as a means of communication between Houses, and the main event of each night was always the triumphant summary of the recent advancements made towards the House cause. Particular unrestful bloodlines removed from the picture, everything done in the darkness. Regardless of the nature of these violent repressive events, the general wizarding world knew exactly who was behind it, and the twelve shadows looming at their backs were a reminder of what it was to obey.
Word had apparently spread of his duel. As he attempted to dodge yet another paltry conversation with an outer House member, he could feel the stares- he even occasionally caught the flash of a green eyes, or the distinct hue of purple robes. Word spread quickly between Houses, and with an Heir as talented as he, no news was left untouched. Regardless, very few wizards approached. His family was notorious, and the crowd kept a comfortable distance around him as he moved. As he was beginning to think he might be able to waste the night away among the clinking of champagne glasses and the murmurs of the convention, a cold hand caught him on his back.
“Sirius.” The voice drifted to him as the distinct stench of greasy hair hit his nose.
“Lucius.” Inwardly, Sirius groaned. Just my luck.
Lucius Malfoy was only known to Sirius by association, and by the simple fact that the Houses were required to maintain a general understanding of one another (the association, of course, being his beloved sister Narcissa). He sighed, recalling his sister’s smirk as she finally gained a way out of the tense House Black atmosphere. Sirius had always thought she merely traded one gilded prison for another. Lucius smiled; an awful, cutting slit that drove across his face, as if in response to Sirius’ thoughts.
The little git. Of course he would be the one to marry her.
The question of the Daughters was one that had been long debated among the Houses, dating back even to their origins decades before. Privately, Sirius thought the result was misogynistic and not at all aligned with the aim of the Houses: to offer an alternative, modernised future to the wizarding world. Nevertheless, the Daughters of the various Houses had been effectively shoved to the side. Much as the Heirs served a singular purpose of inheriting Blood Magic and their respective Houses, Daughters served to produce those very Heirs. They were dispersed among the Houses, and the only partially redeeming aspect of the whole scheme was the fact that they had some choice in which House they landed in.
For Narcissa, there had been no question. As a result, Sirius presently became engaged with his imperious host, his thoughtful and respectful demeanour exacerbated by the fact that he was speaking to his brother-in-law. He wished, desperately, for Reggie- at least he wouldn’t have to play an elaborate game of pretend around his own brother.
“I appreciate your presence- I heard your duel may have been particularly arduous.” It was a jab, and a very deliberate one. Lucius and Sirius both knew that his duel had been anything but complex. However, in the atmosphere of House events, any opportunity to gain a foothold over another Heir was effectively grasped. Ultimately, despite the closed circle they presented to the wizarding world, the Houses still grappled for places in an unseen hierarchy.
Lucius automatically had a hold over Sirius, by the simple fact that he had already come into his Blood Magic. The Arts were not a foreign thing to him, and he had felt the touch of power like Sirius never had.
“I handled it- I consider it to have effectively contributed to my learning.” He kept his face composed. It was easier said than done.
Where is my sister? He wanted to ask Lucius, but it was likely that even he wasn’t completely certain. Narcissa had always had a tendency to act on her own.
“I-” As Lucius opened his mouth to form the beginning of what must have been a particularly malicious sentiment, the crisp sound of a bell rang through the space.
Eyes flitted to the head of the room, where Abraxas Malfoy perched on a rather ornate chair. Abraxas was rather old, and Sirius thought he looked even more shrivelled during the present meeting. Regardless, Abraxas was a member of the founding generation of Heirs, and therefore commanded attention and respect in the space. Though he had never achieved Blood Magician status, he was still honored.
“I am pleased to see such a complete collection of our esteemed Houses. I’m sure you have all been briefed on this meeting- we have quite a lot to discuss. We will begin with an analysis of the Hogwarts progress.”
Sirius nodded along with the crowd, as a soft murmur of assent flooded through the room.
“The recently implemented House History course has shown to be a crucial pillar in our mission with the school; in-depth knowledge of the Houses has become commonplace, based on recent surveys and testing. It has proven to be more beneficial to the cause than the outdated History of Magic course.”
Abraxas’ pet project had been the ‘rehabilitation’ of Hogwarts as an educational facility. Although its origins dated centuries before the Houses came into power, and had previously allowed anyone of significant magical ability, in recent years it had shown to be inadequate for the standards the Houses held.
The only reason the changes were made at a slower pace than other pursuits was due to the fact that House purebloods were not educated there. Some of the lesser pureblood children were allowed in, although they were exempt from particular classes that were not of significance to people in positions of even moderate power.
“As expected, the wizards and witches produced from the school continue to be of the highest calibre- many of them show promise to serve in Houses or to maintain control over the public. Our methods of disseminating House thought into the population have also proven to be beneficial. In general, support is at an all time high.”
That’s ironic. Sirius almost chuckled, sipping from his champagne. Although the numbers indeed demonstrated that the general public were at least tolerant of House power, it did not account for the outliers- the unmentioned attacks, the strange meetings that had been observed by House agents. Something was wrong, but clearly Abraxas did not consider it to be of significance here.
The following speech was long, and as per usual Sirius considered it to be far too long for the content, thinking it could easily have been reduced. Instead, he shifted from foot to foot, groaning quietly and swirling the liquid around in his glass as Abraxas droned on.
Perhaps I can convince them to let Reggie go in my place next time. It’s not as though I serve any purpose here except so that the Blacks can say they appeared before the rest of the Houses. Sirius entertained this impossible notion instead of listening to Abraxas’ transition into a discussion of new duelling recruitment techniques for the Heirs.
~
He sensed that something was amiss mere seconds before it happened. Seconds, before a deafening crack shook the space and the tall windows lining the walls exploded inward. Seconds before the chuckles of the assembled Houses transitioned into screams and the shouting of protective spells.
Sirius transitioned from his stiff stance among the crowd to lying prone on the floor, the air sucked from his lungs. He gasped, trying to pull himself up onto his elbows. His hands grappled for purchase in the slickness of blood underneath his palms, and his vision finally focused enough for him to see the shards of glass that lay scattered among the bodies of House members. There was a faint ringing in his ears, and all other sounds had been muffled as though he was listening through the gentle cover of a silencing spell. It was an odd sensation.
What happened?
Shouts echoed throughout the space, and guards came sprinting through the doors in pairs from where they had waited outside. They beelined for the Heirs, casting glances around the room for any possible threats before ushering them towards the exits. A few went for the windows, wands out in offensive positions. People lay scattered along the floor, reminiscent of the crowd that had been standing at attention moments before.
I should figure out what happened- I should help. Sirius continued to pull himself into a sitting position, wheezing.
Blake grabbed him under his arms, hoisting him upwards and dragging him towards the hall. He set Sirius down on a small stone bench, frowning and ensuring that Sirius was not on the verge of keeling over in front of his eyes.
“What the fuck?” Sirius stared at the ground.
“Stay here. I’m going to figure out what just happened.” Blake moved away, illuminating his wand and moving back towards the conference room. Remus appeared as if out of thin air, face swimming in Sirius’ limited vision.
“Are you injured?” The boy asked. His voice was rough, and he sounded tired. Even though he tried to disguise it, his tone reeked of disinterest.
Sirius attempted to focus on him. He was sweating profusely. Regardless, he was thankful for the boy’s presence.
Despite his upbringing in House Black, he remained curiously attached to human connection. His mother would have called it weakness, but he secretly considered it to be a sign of his retention of his humanity.
“I don’t think so. Nothing big, maybe some mild scratches.” Remus nodded absentmindedly.
“Good.” Remus sighed. Sirius glanced towards the wooden doors leading to the conference room.
It’s impossible. There hasn’t been an attack of this scale since when the Houses first took power. This shouldn’t have happened.
Among these tangled thoughts, a single concern rose to the surface, picked out of a tangle of unanswered questions.
“How did they know where to find us? Conference locations are kept secret, and even then there’s no way they should have been able to get inside the gates.” Remus shrugged.
“I don’t know, it’s not as though the public has been particularly tame as of late. There could have been interested parties putting research into this for ages.” He shot a meaningful glance at Sirius, who wished that Blake would come back.
The boy sighed again. He waved his wand over Sirius, muttering a medical diagnostic spell that fizzled to life, only to apparently satisfy Remus that Sirius was entirely unharmed. Sirius thought it was a clever choice, on his part- if Walburga had discovered he was injured, it was quite possible Remus would have ended up in much the same position as his previous guard (deceased).
Remus nodded at Sirius before making his way towards the double doors, disappearing into the room. Sirius watched the sullen boy go, wishing he understood what his parents had seen in him. There must have been a reason, there must have been some logic behind it. Yet, he was still puzzled. He rolled his eyes at Remus’ retreating back, then glanced around the hall. Other Heirs had been snatched up by their guards, ushered into corners of the space while guards flitted in and out of the conference room.
I should go inside with him, I should try and find some way to participate. Even as he thought it, he could not will his body to move. Perhaps he was a traitor to his House, after all.
Sirius remained on his bench until Blake returned, and quickly escorted him outside the Malfoy premises until they could apparate to Black Manor. The boy remained silent, and Sirius assumed he would receive word from his mother about whatever they discovered about the attack.
Instead, Sirius was deposited in his room, and Blake took up position outside his door, muttering something about hearing more the following day.
Sirius paced his darkened room, his footsteps quieting as he listened to the soft murmurs of Remus and Blake outside his door. He had difficulty making out what they were saying, but he caught the occasional word. The makeshift conversation quickly decayed into silence, occasionally punctuated by the shuffling of robes and shifting of shadows from under his door.
How am I supposed to play my part when no one in this house trusts me? He scowled, sitting on the edge of his bed.
He supposed it had always been that way. No Heir was really trusted until they had come into the Blood Magic and learned the Arts, and he was no exception. In the end, he was simply another player in a rather complicated match of wizarding chess.
It was infuriating.