The mage

The BLACK family, a name that evokes mystery and grandeur in the heart of every wizard. This family, whose reputation was well-established, covered the magical world from one end to the other, from Hogwarts School to the cobbled streets of London, and even beyond, on the old continent, their name was whispered with fear and respect.

The fame of the BLACKs was neither entirely good nor completely bad; it floated somewhere in between. Within the wizarding world, where ancient lineages intertwined with long-kept secrets, the BLACKs reigned supreme, like a royal eagle watching over its domain. Their prestige stemmed not only from their antiquity but also from a kind of respect tinged with fear.

In this world where magic allowed for exceptional longevity, one might have expected families to be as old as dust. Yet, this was not the case. Most wizarding families eventually died out, leaving behind faded legacies and dilapidated homes. Gringotts Bank, on the other hand, accumulated chests sealed with riches forgotten by all, a frozen currency that served no purpose, which greatly displeased the goblins.

The valley of Hogwarts, with its hamlets and abandoned castles, told a similar story. These homes, once grandiose, were now nothing but empty shells. Some families had disappeared, swallowed by the sands of time, while others had chosen to leave these historic places to create new homes, far from prying eyes, leaving their heritage behind.

Ironically, Muggle-borns appearing centuries later bore a striking resemblance to the aging portraits hanging in these ruins. Their names, sometimes strangely familiar, never seemed to be linked to these illustrious lineages, and they were never invited to verify their genealogy.

Among the few families that had managed to defy the sands of time, the BLACKs stood out. A curious wizard, delving into the annals of the magical world, would discover that this family, mentioned with almost religious reverence, had maintained their uninterrupted lineage for over a thousand years. Their name always topped the list, a proof of their endurance through the ages.

But claiming such a lineage was not enough. It had to be proven. Wizards, in their ingenuity, had developed complex spells and enchantments to create monumental tapestries and family trees. Every respectable family owned its own ancestral hall, where each born child was immortalized in so-called "family" magic.

For those unable to present such proof, the Department of Titles, Wills, and Inheritances within their Ministry of Magic became their only recourse. Refusal or inability to prove one's heritage amounted to a disavowal, a social banishment, because in the wizarding world, family was not just a simple notion; it was the cornerstone of identity and magic itself.

The second reason for the fear inspired by the BLACKs lay in their immense influence and colossal financial heritage. In the wizarding world, where riches could determine power, the BLACKs stood like giants. Their vaults at Gringotts, these underground cathedrals guarding the treasures of wizards ready to entrust their treasures to the goblins, overflowed with gold galleons. For a BLACK, the very notion of small change was inconceivable; a Knut, perhaps, but never a Sickle. After all, a family as ancient and cunning had amassed its wealth over the ages, its investments multiplying, especially during the tumultuous periods of wars.

The third reason, perhaps the most frightening, was due to their powerful magical powers and a certain mindset, as unpredictable as it was dangerous. The "Black Madness," a term whispered with respectful fear in the corridors of Hogwarts, evoked the idea of a power so great that it could fracture the mind, leading to an unpredictable and terrifying madness. The BLACKs were known for their exceptional lineage, housing rare talents: Metamorphmagi capable of changing appearance at will, rune masters drawing symbols of power, creators of innovative spells, potion makers with miraculous concoctions... Their magical heritage was as vast as it was varied.

But, our story takes place at a time when the splendor of the BLACKs is all but extinguished, almost gone in just two generations. A mere glance at their family tree was enough to understand the precariousness of their situation: there was only one man left, unmarried, bearing the name BLACK. And the rumors, as cruel as they were persistent, whispered his infertility, a consequence of an unfortunate spell in his duties as an Auror.

These rumors, coupled with the family's decline, had finally caught the attention of a formidable man: Arcturus Black III. This old man, grandson of Phineas Nigellus Black—the least appreciated headmaster of Hogwarts—and survivor of the war against Grindelwald, indeed intended to restore his family by summoning all the BLACKs, whether they bore the name or not. A new era for this family was about to begin in their ancestral home: The Black Castle.

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It had been a decade since the Blacks last set foot in their ancestral home, yet the estate seemed to have escaped the ravages of time. At dawn, the green labyrinth shone under the first rays of the sun, playing on the ancient bronze plaque sealing the family motto, "Always Pure," at the entrance of the castle. The imposing dark stone walls captured the light, diffusing it through vast windows into a sumptuous salon, where vividly coloured tapestries and centuries-old furniture bore witness to the Black family's secret history. This salon, so grand it could easily contain three and a half carriages, was an open book to the past.

The hanging portraits, guardians of time, offered a glimpse into the endurance of this illustrious lineage. Over a hundred faces of wizards and witches from all eras stretched across the walls, forming a living art gallery, where the piercing gazes seemed to monitor every corner, exchanging gossip and unnecessary advice, their voices from beyond rarely finding an echo.

Yet, none could foresee that this place was about to become the stage for a pivotal event, destined to leave its mark in the annals of magical history.

At the centre of this room stood Arcturus Black, the third of his name, a patriarch with a solemn gaze, marked by the trials of time. His silver hair, in contrast with his ebony beard, made him recognisable among all. Behind his gold spectacles, his eyes of bright silver betrayed deep contemplation.

Being the patriarch of the Blacks was no easy task. The family, of remarkable antiquity, had been ennobled by Edward the Confessor in 1043, although their history in England went back much further. This title of nobility, though evolving over time, particularly after the French conquest, conferred upon the Blacks considerable influence, their domain extending to the Scottish borders, earning them the titles of Marquis of the Eastern Marches and Earl of Cumberland.

In the wizarding world, these titles retained all their feudal prerogative, the Blacks exercising uncontested sovereignty over their lands, where every inhabitant owed them allegiance. Thus, the County of Cumberland was composed of five principal Wards — administrative divisions each having its own court and its own responsibilities in terms of justice and local administration led by sheriffs — themselves divided into Tithings — administrative subdivisions representing groups of ten households led by tithingmen, all loyal to the House of Black.

Just as in the feudal era, the Marquises and Earls of the magical world ruled uncontested. Each of the inhabitants of their domain owed service to their family, in return, they could live and benefit from their protection against tax. This political structure, frozen in time, had hardly wavered, even with the implementation of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, which sealed the separation from the Muggle world. This historical bifurcation stripped the English crown of all grip and authority over the magical aristocracy, placing them at the pinnacle of their power with their Magenmagot. It was only their fear of being revealed that maintained communication with the Muggle world, through an exchange between the Minister for Magic and the British Prime Minister.

Arcturus bore the weight of many regrets, among them, his non-intervention in the war against the Death Eaters weighed heavily. The magical lords, as a whole, had preferred isolation to engagement, sealing their territories rather than rallying their forces against the evil that threatened. This decision, perhaps dictated by caution or fear, had changed the course of history, leaving the shadow of a "what if" over the magical world. After all, knowing that some lords had joined Voldemort, the war could have worsened if everyone had mobilised their forces.

Arcturus Black's conscience was heavily burdened, his inaction in the face of some family members' rebellion in favour of Voldemort having shaken the foundations of his authority. When news of his grandson Regulus's tragic disappearance reached him, a searing pain pierced him; this loss remained a well-kept secret, known only to him through the family tapestry that updated itself autonomously. The death of Fleamont Potter and his companion Euphemia, his own sister from an illicit liaison between Sirius Black II and Ismelda Gaunt, added a layer of suffering to his burden. Ismelda, escaped from the clutches of a cursed lineage, had raised her daughter in solitude, thanks to significant financial support from Sirius and then Arcturus.

The birth of Nymphadora Tonks, a prodigious Metamorphmagus and the first of her line for centuries, under a foreign surname due to her mother Andromeda's exclusion, was a third ordeal, testifying to the audacity of the ancestors in denying their own blood. The loss of James Potter, offspring of his dear sister, added to his torment. However, the fall of Voldemort and the miraculous survival of Harry Potter, his great-nephew now under the guardianship of Sirius, his grandson, brought him a fragile hope.

Determined to right wrongs and reunify his kin, Arcturus envisioned a family gathering of unprecedented scale and firmness. As he sensed the arrival of the guests through the castle's enchantments, the doors of the grand salon opened to reveal Lucretia Prewett, née Black. Her face, marked by time but animated with unmatched malice, betrayed the formidable nature of this woman, famous for her black book brimming with unspeakable secrets.

"Father!" she exclaimed, a smile on her lips, before greeting him with a kiss. "It seems I am the first."

"Lucretia, the pleasure is mutual," Arcturus replied with a knowing smile. "Your intuition never fails you, it seems…"

"I always hold the keys to information. What do you have in mind?" she inquired, eager for revelations.

"Would I deprive you of the pleasure of surprise?" Arcturus retorted, with a mischievous smile.

"Well played, father," conceded Lucretia, taking a seat in a strategically positioned armchair. "Was it necessary to invite everyone?"

"You're referring to your niece and her family, I presume?" Arcturus replied, teasingly. "They remain part of our family, after all."

"Pff, a Weasley, really?" she muttered, without hiding her disdain.

"Do not forget that this Weasley is the direct descendant of Cedrella," Arcturus countered firmly. "It is time to rectify certain past mistakes."

Intrigued, Lucretia could not hide her interest in what promised to be a day rich in revelations. Arcturus, for his part, relished his daughter's anticipation of the surprises to come. But when a new presence was felt, his smile turned into an icy gaze, heralding the imminent arrival of a couple, whose actions were to be punished.

The couple, sharing a striking resemblance, embodied the archetype of wizarding nobility with their demeanor and presence. Orion, tall, sported jet-black hair and eyes of proud silver, while Walburga, despite her more rounded figure, commanded respect with her regal bearing and a gaze filled with relentless coldness.

"Father," they said in unison, bowing with measured deference.

"The reason for our gathering will be revealed in due time," Arcturus replied with undisputed authority, inviting them with an imperious gesture to take their seats.

The couple, slightly disconcerted by the patriarch's sharp tone, exchanged puzzled looks. Walburga, about to question her father, was interrupted by a discreet gesture from Lucretia, advising silence. With palpable reluctance, they sat down, sensing the approach of a family storm.

Their apprehension was quickly confirmed by the tumultuous arrival of the Weasley family, led by Molly and Arthur, accompanied by their fiery-haired offspring. The entrance of the Weasleys, marked by the cries of the youngest and the wonder of the other children, was a veritable coup de théâtre.

"Lord Black," Arthur Weasley greeted, bowing respectfully while Molly, despite the clutter, made an effort to curtsy.

"Arthur, son of Cedrella, I welcome you and your wife and children to our ancestral home," Arcturus declared, opening his arms in a welcoming gesture.

This statement, imbued with a subtle magic, officially reinstated the Weasleys into the Black family, causing astonishment and murmurs among the assembly.

"I am deeply grateful," Arthur replied, presenting his children with undisguised pride. "Here are William, Charles, Percy, the twins Fred and George, Ronald, and our youngest, Ginevra."

Piqued by curiosity, Lucretia inquired about their magical abilities, leading to an enthusiastic response from Molly, despite the palpable emotion when mentioning her deceased nephews, Gideon and Fabian, in reference to Fred and George.

"And the youngest?" Arcturus inquired, a benevolent smile on his lips.

Arthur, with a touch of humor, shared Ronald's exploits, while Ginny, still too young, already promised to follow in her family's magical footsteps.

"What a blessing for you and your wife," Arcturus commented, his smile widening.

The Weasley family then settled in comfortably, while the children rushed to a plate of biscuits that appeared as if by magic, a discreet work of the house-elves.

The grand salon of Black Castle, already saturated with tension and anticipation, welcomed the Malfoy family with an undeniable aura of dignity and pride. Lucius, displaying renewed confidence after clearing his name of all suspicion, and Narcissa, cradling young Draco in her arms, embodied the elegance of their lineage. Alongside them, Andromeda Tonks, whose resemblance to Bellatrix could not hide the gentleness in her eyes, was accompanied by her husband, Ted, a man with a rounded belly indicative of a peaceful life, and their daughter Nymphadora, whose changing hair betrayed her Metamorphmagus heritage.

"Grandfather Arcturus," Narcissa greeted with dignity. "My family and I answer your call."

"Marquis Black," Lucius bowed slightly.

"Narcissa, Lucius, welcome," Arcturus replied, inviting them to take their seats with an imperious gesture.

The Malfoy couple quickly settled in, their presence contrasting with the relaxed atmosphere of the Weasleys and the palpable tension among the Blacks. Lucius, observant, scrutinized the reactions of everyone, anticipating the revelations to come.

Narcissa, for her part, exchanged a complicit glance with her sister Andromeda, marking a moment of emotional reunion despite the circumstances.

"Lord Black," Andromeda spoke up, her voice tinged with a hint of defiance due to their supposed banishment.

"Andromeda, daughter of Cygnus Black III, welcome, you and yours, to our home," Arcturus declared, without being surrounded by the same magical radiance as when welcoming the Weasleys.

This absence of magical manifestation seemed to trouble Andromeda, who was interrupted in her inquiries by Lucretia.

"Surprised, dear niece? The absence of magic does not signify a lack of welcome. The nature of your daughter's Metamorphmagus should have clued you in," she suggested mischievously.

Confusion reigned among the Tonks, with Ted voicing his bewilderment aloud.

"You were never banished, Andromeda. Only the head of our house has that power, and I never pronounced such a sentence," Arcturus clarified, his voice imbued with firmness.

"Why then this long separation?" Andromeda inquired, anger mixed with relief in her voice.

"Your father acted without my consent, keeping you at a distance without being able to truly disown you. I chose not to intervene, knowing you were safe in these troubled times due to your downfall," the patriarch explained, his words dispelling Andromeda's last doubts.

Andromeda's tears, blending joy and relief, sealed her return to the family. As she took her seat, closely followed by Ted and a still astonished Nymphadora, Lucretia observed with a hint of satisfaction the outraged reaction of Walburga and Orion, who, fearing to provoke Arcturus's anger, remained silent.

Arcturus, meanwhile, sensed the approach of another couple, well known to him. His gaze hardened, bracing for the arrival of the one who had dared to challenge his power.

When Cygnus Black III made his entrance, bearing a striking resemblance to his brother Arcturus but leaning on a cane, the atmosphere tensed further. Druella Rosier, his wife, followed him, her gaze betraying unwavering determination. Their arrival was marked by a heavy silence, broken only by Cygnus's indignation at the sight of Andromeda.

"How dare you show your..." Cygnus began, pointing an accusatory finger at Andromeda.

Without the slightest hesitation, Arcturus cast a spell:

"Silencio!"

The couple was immediately silenced, their mouths moving vainly, trying to form words that would not come.

"You will be silent and sit down," Arcturus ordered, pointing to a free sofa. "You are here as observers, nothing more."

Cygnus sat down, casting resentful glances at Andromeda and her extended family, particularly the Weasleys, whom he openly despised.

The tension escalated when Arthur Weasley, seeking to soothe the atmosphere, asked:

"Who else are we waiting for?"

"My heirs," Arcturus revealed, stirring murmurs among the assembly.

Orion, unable to contain his indignation, exclaimed:

"But I am your heir, father!"

"You have not been for a long time, Orion. Your actions have proven your unworthiness," Arcturus replied coldly.

Walburga attempted to defend her husband:

"His actions? How..."

She was quickly silenced by another muting spell from Arcturus.

Then, Sirius Black made his entrance, holding Harry Potter in his arms, to everyone's surprise. Arcturus welcomed them with unusual warmth:

"My grandson, welcome home. Thank you for answering my call."

Sirius, with a provocative smile towards his father, introduced Harry:

"Here is Harry James Potter, my godson and heir."

The announcement enraged Walburga who, freed from the curse, exclaimed with contempt:

"They are your heirs?"

Arcturus, undisturbed, confirmed his decision:

"Yes, Sirius Orion Black is my legitimate heir, and Harry James Potter will be my second heir if necessary. Let magic be the witness!"

A magical circle surrounded Arcturus, sealing his declaration. The salon was plunged into stunned silence, broken only by the furious protests of Cygnus, Druella, Orion, and Walburga, now freed from the muting spell.

Lucretia, watching the scene with biting interest, sipped her brandy, which appeared as if by magic, anticipating the twists and turns of this already historic meeting for the Black family.

Here's an image I generated about the castle.