An Interlude of Letters
A letter from the Nook, written while Bertie Bott’s were being thrown across the room to the sounds of laughter, essays forgotten on the large table in the center of the room.
Dear Mama and Papa,
Hogwarts has been an absolute dream. I’m sorry for not writing since the beginning of the school year; adjusting has been ever so hectic. As I told you, the school has four houses the students are split into. I am in Slytherin, a house for those with dreams and the drive to get to them. It was quite a surprise, I imagine, for a first-generation student to get placed here. But I wouldn’t have asked for anything else. Because Slytherin is already helping me realize the way this world works. And, it’s already given me two of the best friends I’ve ever had.
I’ll start with Ron. He’s… frustrating, to say the least. He grew up in the wixen world, the sixth of seven children to what is called a “Pureblood” family. Don’t worry, though, they aren’t the type to discriminate. His parents raised him to think a very specific way, and while he’s one of the good ones, it’s a very… limited way of thinking. Very black and white, even if that means others who don’t think the same get painted with the same brush as the worst of them. Harry and I have been working on it with him. And, to be honest, we’ve been working on me, too. Ron took it a bit hard, when we challenged everything his parents taught him. We’re only eleven, and yet we’re already changing our worldviews. He also realized that maybe he wasn’t on the best of terms with his parents. So he’s working on that, he’s writing to them and slowly trying to make them realize that he was terrified that he would let them down and never have a true home with them again.
Since that resulted with his mom and his little sister coming to visit us last weekend, I think it’s working. Molly is incredibly nice, but I can see how that dedication to her family and values may become stifling, and maybe even to the point of driving her loved ones away.
Thank you, for never making me doubt that I have the best family waiting for me.
I know that when we met with Professor McGonagall to learn about school and collect my school supplies, she mentioned how I might be treated differently due to my blood status. It seems as though I’ve lost being different for being Black and gained being a First-Generation. I asked Ron, once, if racism was a thing here. He honestly laughed in my face. “Why would the color of your skin matter? It’s not as though that changes who you are, or your values.” It’s interesting, actually. The only reason anyone even looks twice at my skin is to ask if I celebrate any traditional African holidays or rites. For a place that seems to judge so quickly on blood status, other wizarding cultures from other countries are more than welcome, even if it’s quietly.
Right, I’m rambling. I’ve explained a bit about Ron. My other best friend is Harry. I don’t know if you remember me talking about a kid who was called ‘The Boy-Who-Lived’ before I left. Who survived what was essentially a domestic terrorist attack. That’s Harry.
He’s different than I expected. He’s a slight of a thing, scared of his own shadow. And he’s technically new to everything, too. After his parents died, he went to live with some nonmagical relatives in Surrey. He’s trying to find a way to stay in the wix world for the summer, but if he can’t, do you think I could go visit him on occasion? He was like me, and didn’t have many friends growing up. And… not to jump to conclusions, but I don’t think his family is good for him. I was hoping that if I were to visit, someone who knows the rules of the nonmagical world, that it might smooth things over for him.
He’s a world of contradictions. He’s the hero of this world, but he’s fighting a political battle, at eleven years old, from all sides. When he’s upset about something, he can freeze a room in its place just from his expression, but the next minute he jumps at a door closing slightly too loudly. He picks the one subject (Potions, it’s a mix of chemistry and cooking) where the teacher seems to hate him, and that’s the one he chooses to be obsessed with. He had to grow up so fast, between being an orphan with a family that didn’t understand him, and then being in this world, where everyone either thinks he isn’t as heroic as he should be, is too young. When he’s trying, he’s almost like an adult forced into this scrawny kid. But then he finds something he’s excited about, and he’s like every other kid in this school.
I hope you don’t mind, but I think these two are going to be around for a while. I can’t wait for you to meet them. Papa, Ron will give you a run for your money in a chess match. And Mama, Harry would fall in love with your brisket recipe, we’ll have to have him over so you can show him how to make it.
Oh, and about that trip to France for Christmas…
Received with trepidation at a Muggle home in Liverpool by a long-lost Prewett who hadn’t seen an owl with a letter since he was sixteen and ran away from a home that didn’t want him. But looking at his daughter, who had just levitated a cookie from the counter to her hand, he didn’t immediately burn it.
Dear Uncle Lionel,
I hope you don’t mind me reaching out. From what I’ve heard, it’s been a while since you’ve heard from the family. And I don’t think that’s right.
I should probably introduce myself. I’m Ronald Weasley, the sixth of Molly Weasley nee-Prewett’s seven children. Molly is the granddaughter of your Aunt Cassie. My mum mentioned you once, and it wasn’t until I was older that I realized how wrong that was, that you were tossed away by the family just because you didn’t inherit the family magicks.
I’m eleven, and just got to Hogwarts. I don’t know how much you remember about things having to do with the school. But I’m a Slytherin, and my two best friends are a snarky half-blood wizard and a too-smart first-gen witch. Hermione was outraged that you were thrown out of the family, and when I thought about it, I realized she was right.
It may not mean much, but on behalf of my family, I would like to say sorry for the way you were treated. If it makes you feel better, no one really likes Aunt Muriel anyways.
I don’t know if you have any wish to talk with some snotty kid from a family that abandoned you. But if you do, I’m here. For questions, for updates on the family, for anything.
And maybe you wouldn’t mind answering a few questions that I have? My friend Harry has come into some family money, and wouldn’t mind the help of an accountant to help him keep everything straight.
If you don’t want to keep in touch, that’s fine. But if in the future, you change your mind, the offer’s open.
Cheers,
Ron Weasley
Written from the sick bed of Arcturus Black, Head of the Black Family.
Young Hadrian,
I will assume from the missive I received from Gringotts Bank that you have reached the age to attend Hogwarts, and that you have become aware of the title bestowed upon you by my grandson, your godfather. Sirius is currently the heir of the family. But upon my passing, which, as the doctors of St. Mungo’s are in terror of telling me, may come quite soon, Sirius will take on the mantle of Lord Black.
Wizengamot rules that his sentencing does not limit his ability to head this family. Which means that his naming you his Heir will be binding as well.
I write this to you, hearing what you’ve already accomplished in the short months you’ve been at school, with the knowledge that you will do the Black family justice. It may surprise you to hear that I was never one for this ‘purists above all’ nonsense. I was… heartbroken to discover that my daughters were so cavalier in their removal of sane and competent Black children for making their own lives. Knowing that the Potters, and soon, the Blacks, live on in such an intelligent, strong young man gives me hope. And I know that my dear little cousin, Dorea, would feel the same way. She’s your grandmother, you know. Married Charlus Potter a few years after they graduated, had your father quite a while after. By the end of James’s schooling, she had taken my grandson, Sirius, in as well. She was always my favorite cousin. A bit of brightness in the Black family. Still held true to our values, but didn’t see fit to tear apart the newbloods. I hope, for your sake, you inherited quite a bit of her.
I was beside myself when Dragon Pox took her and Charlus. And then James had you, and hope seemed to be restored, as Sirius was overjoyed with you, and was bringing you into the family. I, too, was thrilled. We met, once, before you went into hiding. You were still too little to look like anything other than a newborn, but I swore to your parents that you would end up looking more like a Black than a Potter. Sirius laughed me out of the house.
My grandson was always headstrong. I wasn’t surprised that he went into Gryffindor. He grew up with James, you see. My youngest, Walburga, wanted nothing to do with him, and was more than happy to send him off with her cousin when the Potters went to India for vacations.
What she doesn’t know is that while she burned him from the family tapestry, Sirius was never expelled from the family.
And I don’t know what happened that night, the night you lost everything. But know that I did, too, especially after no one could find you. The fact that Dumbledore saw fit to place you with young Lily’s family instead of one of the many Blacks around… still infuriates me. To a point where I almost find the energy to get out of this bed and throttle the man. I lost my cousins, my heir… And I didn’t know where you were. What I did know, and still do, is the way Sirius looked at you. Your parents and you, you were his family. He would do nothing to betray that. And when I attempted to contact Wizengamot to testify to such means on his behalf at a trial, I was told that it had already occurred, and he was sent to Azkaban days after the event.
My lawyers had no luck finding a trial transcript, and I am too ill to attempt to maneuver the idiot-infested waters of the ministry to find the truth. Maybe you will.
Listen to me, Hadrian. The world will not be kind to you. The Houses of Black and Potter, while united within your blood, have near constantly been at odds in the political world. Those who claim to be Heritage Purebloods will see you as in Dumbledore’s pocket, whether you are or not, and many of those who hold to the blood supremacy nonsense, the Fundamentalists, will look down on you for your mother’s blood, ignoring her widely acknowledged intelligence and power. And those on the Light side will be convinced that you have somehow been tainted with the Black Madness. Being sorted into Slytherin will not help sway their opinions.
Do not take that Madness lightly, Hadrian. But if you manage to wade through this world correctly, you may be the exact thing the wixen world needs to combine the two sides. We had been trying for years to create a stable Grey faction, but between Dumbledore and the chaos that was the Dark Lord, we had no chance. You will have so much power, Hadrian. Between your family titles and your status as the Boy-Who-Lived, you have a chance.
I simply pray that you take it.
I am afraid that I will likely not make it long enough to meet you again in person. If I had my way, you would have been raised in a Black home, learning both Black and Potter family legends and magicks, knowing the power you held and the change you could make. The fact that was taken from you will haunt me these last few days of my life.
Just know that on behalf of the Black family, including your grandmother, we could not be more proud of our future heir. I trust that between your connections at Gringotts and the lawyer the goblin informed me about, you will be able to make the choices necessary to bring prosperity to our family name. You have my full faith, and I insist you keep this letter as proof if necessary to any of the family that doubt your placement.
Your uncle with pride,
Lord Arcturus Black III
Written quickly on the back of a letter received earlier that day, as a fifth-year pureblood prefect watched a scrawny Indian child put a sneering upper year into their place with nothing more than words and an innocent smile.
Dearest sister,
I do not think that any upcoming conflict is as two-sided as we once thought. The Boy-Who-Lived seems to refuse any labels placed upon him, whether it be from the Light or the Dark. We may need to get our friends of a similar mind together during the holidays, and determine what we might wish to do if Potter does indeed play for a third side in the war.
Things at Hogwarts seem to be playing out in very unexpected ways.
Reach out to Flint or one of the Higgs if you wish to know more, they seem to be close to the boy. He may need help, after all. And if it gets us out of the shadow of that monster father insisted on following, I fear it would be idiotic not to offer our services.
I have two full years left to play to his sympathies, and should be able to rely on our cousins to do the same. I simply need the instruction to do so.
With Typhon’s aims in the Ministry, being in the pocket of the Boy-Who-Lived, for all he hates his power, may get the Avery name back in the good graces of the Wixen World.
May the Grey rise once more,
Erin
Scribbled last minute on a letter to his father by a second quill, as the first one had broken in Marcus’s hand in anger after a shy Theo had whispered in his ear.
Father. They locked him in a cupboard like he was worth less than the dirt on their feet. The savior of the wixen world grew up in less space than the shower in our guest bathroom. And I doubt that is the end of his treatment, but he apparently broke down at just sharing that. I truly fear that if more information comes out about this, the friends he has collected so far this year will ensure he never need return.
For plausible deniability, I will not explain. But expect an owl from Madam Bones. Her niece is quite adamant about getting this process started. Now.
Written by the fearful but stubborn Heir to an older member of the family at the insistence of his friend and lawyer, and with advice from a distant cousin that laughed at his request for aid with his mother.
Lady Malfoy,
I sincerely apologize for reaching out unannounced and without a previous introduction, but a family friend suggested I do so, and that the faux paus will be forgiven due to the possible nature of our relationship. I am aware that you are the cousin to my godfather, and while not the eldest of your nuclear family, the only Black sister still able to claim their heritage through the Wizengamot.
I have received word from our uncle Arcturus, confirming my status of Heir to the Black family, and his hopes that I build this family to its previous glory. The first step in that, to my understanding, is building a relationship with as many in the family as possible. As Heir Black, I thought it prudent to at least begin a conversation. Not only as Heir, but as we are family, for I have very little in the way of relations. I do not have anyone outside of those I am paying in the way of mentors. I would not be opposed, if you were in agreement, to an aunt taking that role. The aunt I am staying with in the muggle world does not seem to want the position too keenly.
I am sure Draco has already informed you of his placement, and most likely my own, in the Slytherin House. Perhaps you may offer some advice, for an essential first-generation going into the illustrious House of Salazar? And even beyond? I am told that I will need to start looking into proxies for the two families I am heralding as soon as possible. Any advice you may have in this regard would be most appreciated.
Draco sends his love, as he is reading this over my shoulder.
Kindest regards,
Hadrian, Heir Potter-Black