Shades of Silver and Black

THE MALFOY MANOR PARLOUR had been converted to a war-room. Lord Malfoy, who had been woken up with the sobering potion forced down his throat, was highly confused. He was also the designated scribe. Lord Malfoy was unhappy with both occurrences, and that made Lord Black as happy as he could be with his home burnt down.

Sure, the Blacks held many estates under their name that they could have gone into, but it was the little things that counted to soothe the inextinguishable wildfire that broke out in the stomach’s of the Blacks, regardless of whether they’d been born or married into the family. It was still an insult, still a crime, still outrageous, still fuel for their vengeance.

Lady Fortuna, depicted blind, held a scale to weigh justice. If the ashes of the Planetarium filled one side, Voldemort’s blood, life, magic and soul would fill the other. Nothing less.

“Get your leg off the table, boy!” Abraxas barked out to Sirius.

Sirius raised an eyebrow and pulled his other leg onto the tea table in front of the sofa.

Before Abraxas could shout, Melania said, “Really, Abraxas? Our house got burnt down and you’re prioritising this?”

“Yes,” answered Abraxas, tone clipped. “You all have a hundred other houses, you know.”

“And you know how much this one means to us.” Melania’s eyes flashed and she stretched her legs onto the table, daring Abraxas to say something. “How about I burn down Malfoy Manor so you understand?”

“The peacocks,” said Abraxas weakly, “can’t fend for themselves. You probably shouldn’t.”

“The peacocks can fly away,” said Lyra, her voice quiet. “They’re fast. My snakes can’t—couldn’t.”

Silence conquered once again.

Irma broke it, turning to Lyra. “You mentioned, earlier, you were planning something against the Dark Lord. What was it?”

“A bill,” Lyra answered eventually, fists curled on her lap. “Through Regulus and the support of Uncle Charlus, Dennis’ father and a few others, I was going to pass a bill that would trap the Dark Lord. I got a little caught up informing Regulus, however, with the wedding and everything.”

“Explain the bill.”

Lyra did. When she was done, Orion looked mildly proud and Walburga was impressed.

“You wanted to trap him with nowhere to go,” gathered Pollux, grimacing. “You forgot, Lyra, that cornered animals attack.”

“Or burn down houses,” added Melania and Lyra’s nails dug into her skin hard enough to bleed.

Lucius quickly uncurled her fists, weaving his fingers into hers and squeezing, braving the pain of her nails into his palm with occasional winces.

Arcturus, who had briefly stepped out to fire-call Lucretia using her last-known location and inform her of the situation, strolled in, seating himself on the arm-rest of his wife’s sofa. He’d been reluctant to cut his daughter and son-in-law's bizarre back-packing trip across Europe, an adventure they’d engaged in after returning from a world cruise, short, but Lucretia had grown up in the Planetarium just like Orion and himself had. She deserved to know. “Lucretia says she’ll be here in a bit,” he informed the rest of his family. “Ignatius and she have to sort out their hotel bills first. Add her to the wards?” The last question was directed at Abraxas, who nodded, pulling out his wand and doing so.

Five minutes after he did, the double doors swung open, slamming the walls, and through it, Lucretia stomped in, appearing thoroughly frazzled, followed by a grim Ignatius.

She whirled around to where Orion was seated on a sofa, marching towards him and gripping his shoulders. With a wild, crazed, desperate gleam in her eyes, she demanded: “Is it true? Tell me it’s not true, Orion.”

Orion got up and, in a rare display of affection, hugged his sister, allowing her to bury her face into his shoulders as he drew shapes on her back that looked suspiciously like knives. “It’s true, but we’ll get through it. We’re not doomed. Our wings aren’t broken. We’ll fly again soon.”

Lucretia mumbled something incoherent and Orion hugged her tighter. The other occupants on the sofa scooted over, making enough space so Lucretia could sit with them. Ignatius joined her, sitting on the armrest, his lips in a thin, hard line and an arm around his wife’s shoulders.

The Blacks were easily identifiable for their distinctive features—pale skin, black hair, grey eyes and now, red-rimmed puffy eyes.

Walburga shattered the silence first. “He’s rumoured to be immortal. Killing him is useless if he doesn’t stay dead. We need to extinguish his immortality first.”

“Well, thank you Auror Obvious.” Alphard rolled his eyes. “We don’t know how he became immortal to extinguish it. There are so many ways to become immortal, and all of them through black magic.”

“Or soul magic,” Lucretia interjected.

“Indeed.” Orion tilted his head. “I heard of people in South-East Asia extending their lifelines through rituals and runes.”

“The Aztecs used to use blood magic,” contributed Lucius. “And there are many more methods. So, really, how do we narrow—“

"Horcruxes," interrupted Bellatrix, her throat hoarse. "He became immortal by making horcruxes. I don't know how many exactly, but here's one."

Producing her wand, Bellatrix flicked it before pocketing it once more. Between her hands materialised a goblet, golden and engraved.

Lucius’ eyes widened as he pointed a finger at it. “That’s the goblet we drank out of!”

“It’s a horcrux?” Lyra asked and when Bellatrix grimaced a nod, she paled a shade. “You knew it was a horcrux, and yet you allowed me to drink from it on my wedding day?” The even, neutral tone of her voice frightened Bellatrix more than the accusation.

Bellatrix squirmed. “It belongs to Helga Hufflepuff. I allowed you to drink from it on your wedding day because a founder did the same.”

“I’m touched.”

Bellatrix flinched. “I didn’t expect the Planetarium to be burnt down.”

“And that totally justifies you willingly letting me and Lucius drink from a goblet tainted with black magic. You know, the kind that’s rumoured to make a person go mad the longer they’ve been in contact with the object? It’s alright, I suppose. I mean, it would have been concerning if either Lucius’ or my family had a history of falling victim to insanity, but thank Hecate we don’t.”

Nothing in Lyra’s bearing or expression had changed in the slightest, but Bellatrix had the sudden impression that her cousin was regarding her as someone who owns a restaurant would regard a cockroach making an appearance in a plate of salad that had just been served to the world’s severest food critic.

Apologies weighted her tongue, tasting like guilt, but Bellatrix swallowed them down and lifted her chin, pride crowning over her other emotions. “I did what I thought was best,” she said, frostily. “I’m not apologising for that.”

“Of course you’re not. Perhaps you’ll be more inclined to be apologetic when I end up in the Janus Thickey Ward.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“Don’t invalidate my feelings and thoughts,” stated Lyra. “I know we—all of us—joke about our family’s insanity a lot, but it’s a genuine curse that could affect me. There are some days when I feel like it’s actually started, for Hecate’s sake! I’m not even twenty yet. I’ve barely lived, and I don’t want to spend the rest of my days being more paranoid and losing connection with reality. So no, Bella, I’m not being dramatic. But you are trivialising my issue to forgo apologising for the harm you put Lucius and I in. I do wonder if the madness has caught up to you though—I can’t seem to coin any other explanation—except hate, of course—for why you saw an item of black magic and decided to consciously give it to me and Lucius.”

Bellatrix twisted her head away, her eyes darting to the floor while her red blossomed on her cheeks.

“You know what? Forget that,” Lyra continued, and Bellatrix sneaked a peek back at her cousin’s face, only to nearly startle. The gaze Lyra levelled Bellatrix was one she’d been accustomed to see her cousin aim at others, never on her. Analytical and calculative, void of familiarity of warmth. “I just want to know whose side are you on? Ours or his?”

“You already know.”

“Not enough to bet our lives on it.”

Bellatrix’s eyes swept her family’s faces, seeking help, but was offered none. After all, being born into the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black hadn’t been her choice, but being branded with the mark of the Dark Lord had been.

Bellatrix swallowed the lump formed in her throat and said, “Ours.”

“If you lied,” said Andromeda, her eyes narrowed, “we won’t be forgiving.”

Bellatrix scoffed, about to tell her a cruel word, only to once again see the visages of her family. They were all serious. They were all on Andromeda and Lyra’s side regarding their doubt. Even Narcissa was avoiding eye contact with her. So, Bellatrix gritted out, “I’m not lying. Want me to swear an oath, Andy?”

“Yes,” Andromeda blurted out. “That would be comforting.”

“It’s alright,” said Lyra at the same time. “Grandfather Arcturus’ ninth policy, remember? Blacks stick with each other. I just wanted to be assured that you remembered it.”

Considering you nearly killed Fabian and Gideon was left unsaid, but like they read Lyra’s thoughts, Ignatius’s jaw was clenched while Lucretia looked like her husband and brother’s grips were the only things restraining her from committing murder and avenging her sons.

Pollux broke the tense silence, his voice cutting like a knife, “How many horcruxes, then, do you all reckon are created?”

“Three?” Charlus guessed.

“Three is a powerful number,” acknowledged Lyra, her head tilted. “But five is as well. I think he’s made five.”

“Seven is one of the most powerful numbers arithmetically, though,” stated Andromeda. “We should keep it at seven, just in case.”

Bellatrix shook her head. “I’m sure it’s five like Lyra said.”

Abraxas nodded, adding, “I’ve been by the Dark Lord’s side practically all my life, and there are precisely five instances I can recollect where he looked like…” He trailed off with a visible shudder. “Where he looked like he’d participated in black magic. I remember he was on bed rest for nearly two weeks after each instance, and his excuses were always so strange. It’s five. He’s made five horcruxes, I’ll bet my life on it.”

“What about the lives of your peacocks?” Arcturus sounded dead serious, but his eyes shone with the amusement his voice lacked.

Abraxas rolled his eyes. “Yes, you hellion, even the lives of my peacocks.”

“He’s absolutely confident then,” deduced Arcturus before saying, “And really? Hellion? You ought to up your insulting game, ‘Brax.”

“What’s the use? I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to do better than your face.”

Arcturus grinned. “That’s the peacock lord I love to hate.”

“I detest breaking up this lovely bonding moment,” Belladonna began, her voice wary and hesitant. “But I must confess, I have another horcrux.”

Lucius straightened. “What? Mother, you couldn’t possibly—”

“Give me a moment.” Belladonna rose, her purple dress flaring out as she did, making her resemble the plant she’d been named after.

“Did you know?” Orion demanded soon after the Malfoy matriarch had disappeared upstairs, looking between Lucius and Abraxas. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to be near horcruxes? In a way, I’m relieved the Planetarium burnt down. I shudder to think that my daughter would have otherwise lived in the same house as a blasted horcrux without her or our knowledge!”

”Dark magic is bad,” stated Lucretia. “Black magic is worse but soul magic is beyond that. It would negatively affect all the occupants if they cross a certain distance and if the item isn’t secured. Keeping a horcrux where you live, eat and sleep is reckless and irresponsible.”

“We took measures,” said Belladonna, returning, holding a plastic bag with what looked like a notebook inside. “We stored the horcrux in an abandoned room on a floor we rarely go to. We also covered the horcrux in magic-repelling insulators like plastic and amber, and had the most positive runes engraved along with multiple layers of protection wards.”

“Those are good,” acknowledged Lucretia. “But not enough.”

Belladonna sighed. “I know, I know.” She sat back down, placing the plastic package on the tea table which Sirius quickly took his legs off of. “In the coming weekend, Abraxas and I were about to shift it to a Gringott’s vault we’d bought just for this reason.”

“How long did the horcrux be in your home?”

“Since my seventh year,” Lyra blurted out, answering instead of Belladonna, with wide eyes. “I remember you putting it in the locker. Was that when…?”

Belladonna nodded grimly. “Yes. That was the morning Abraxas and I had received the honour of storing the Dark Lord’s horcrux.”

Walburga, who had been squinting her eyes at the notebook in the plastic bag, abruptly gasped, shocked. “That's Tom Riddle's diary," she breathed out, her voice a fragile whisper. Walburga met Belladonna’s eyes as if seeking confirmation regarding her hypothesis.

When Belladonna nodded, Walburga’s eyes widened. "Perfect Prefect Tom became the Dark Lord?" The rest of them flinched at the volume of her voice.

"Well," started Abraxas wearily, "he did always have an inclination to the dark arts, remember?"

Belladonna closed her eyes, pained, while Walburga shivered. Lyra understood from their reactions and Abraxas' wince, that Tom might have personally practised the dark arts on them at times.

"Are you sure," began Lyra, drawing them out of cruel memories, "that this Tom Riddle is the Dark Lord?"

"I'm confident," replied Abraxas. "I was there with him every step of the way."

"So let me get something straight," intoned Lucius, looking at his father with something akin to second-hand embarrassment. "You knew the Dark Lord was a half-blood, yet you followed him anyway?!"

"He's scary," defended Abraxas but when Lucius remained unimpressed, he added: "Besides, there were more rewards for the House of Malfoy to be aligned with him than against him."

"Why do people keep forgetting that the neutral faction also exists," muttered Lucretia and Lyra agreed wholeheartedly.

Lucius gestured pointedly to Lucretia. "Exactly. What in the world made you think willingly aligning yourself with a mudblood—half-blood at best—of all things was a grand idea?"

"Do not speak to your father in that tone, young man," scolded Belladonna sharply and Lucius quelled down on survival instincts. "It's very easy to judge us for the decisions we made and the paths we chose now but back then, it felt like we didn't have a choice. The Dark Lord is a scary man armed with an arsenal of creative spells and I was pregnant with you. Your father and I chose you over our pride and our beliefs. And if I went back in time, I would do it all over again. Do not judge our choices without knowing our reasons, or until you can say with absolute confidence that you could have done better had you been in our place.”

Lucius looked crushed. "Mummy," he said, with softness and guilt. He stepped forward and wrapped her in a hug. "Oh, mum, I'm so incredibly sorry."

"I'm not the one you should be apologising to," said Belladonna pointedly.

“Right.” Lucius cleared his throat, twisting towards Abraxas. “Apologies, father. I…I misspoke without understanding your intent—“

“It’s alright,” Abraxas cut him off. “We did what we had to, but embarrassed our ancestors in the process by kissing the feet of an impure man.”

“But still, I—“

“It’s okay, Lucius,” Abraxas reiterated. “Don’t worry about it, and let’s…Let’s not talk about this. Please.”

Lucius pressed his lips together, but nodded, and returned to his place beside Lyra.

“We couldn’t tell anyone who didn’t already know,” said Belladonna, looking at them apologetically. “It was part of the oath we’d been made to take. If Walburga hadn’t recognised Tom Riddle’s diary, connected the dots and announced it, we would have choked on blood and our hearts would have stopped beating before we could spill his true name.”

“And what was his name again?” Lyra probed suddenly.

“Tom Riddle,” repeated Belladonna, and Lyra frowned, now irritated, because there was just something about that common, muggle that resonated with her, perhaps in a memory which she couldn’t pinpoint.

Sirius worked on the same wavelength as her. “Why,” he stated aloud, face contorted in thought, “does that name sound so familiar?”

“I know right.” Regulus was frowning, trying to pinpoint where he’d heard ‘Tom Riddle’ when his eyes widened in realisation. Whirling to Walburga, he said, “Mother, wasn’t Tom Riddle the name of the Head Boy in your stories about Hogwarts days?”

“Regulus means the ancient times,” explained Sirius, not at all helpful.

Walburga narrowed her eyes on him. “I’m not old enough to have my childhood termed as ‘ancient times’, Sirius.”

Sirius made a noise conveying his disagreement. “I’m sure if we sell the jewellery from when you were little to a museum to put on display, we’d be compensated with enough money to maybe re-build the Planetarium.”

“In that case, it would be because all the jewellery from when I was little and now are made of precious gems that are expensive.”

“And because of age.”

“No, not because of age. That’s not how selling jewellery works.”

Walburga glanced at Alphard, and he mercifully took over, telling Sirius: “As someone who is most qualified about selling things to museums, I can tell you that unless your mother is some queen from a centuries extinct dynasty, it’s better to sell jewellery to the bank than the museums.”

“Can we fake it, though?” Sirius mused, and pride erupted in Walburga’s chest. “Like, can we sell jewellery to the museum claiming it once belonged to some queen from a centuries extinct dynasty? It’ll be a lovely prank, should we pull it off.”

Sirius glanced at James who was rubbing his chin, perhaps working it out. Eventually, a grin broke out and James flashed Sirius a thumbs-up, and they both looked to Regulus, expectant.

Regulus’ face scrunched up in thought. “There are several queens from long-dead dynasties we can choose from. It’ll be hard, but not impossible. We can fake it.”

“Let Alphard and I know if you need help faking the historical aspects of it,” Orion told them, before adding, “Or Lucius, of course.”

Lyra felt Lucius straighten at his name, obviously proud, and she hid her smile behind her palm.

“So,” Andromeda ventured to get them back on track. Still hugging her near-flat belly, she said, in a highly unimpressed voice, “the scary Dark Lord is named Tom Riddle?”

“That sounds like a muggle’s name,” observed Ted, and none of the purebloods in the room could disagree.

“We used to joke about that,” recalled Belladonna, tone glazed with something akin to nostalgia but closer to pain. “How perfect Prefect Tom Riddle’s only flaw was his name.”

“No wonder he chose to fashion himself a new one,” muttered Walburga.

Lord Voldemort sounded significantly more frightening when compared with Tom Riddle. The Dark Lord must have realised that with a plain name, he’d never be taken seriously by the purebloods he desperately needed for supporters. After all, loyalty through belief is stronger than loyalty by fear.

Dorea voiced the question ringing in Lyra’s mind to Belladonna. “How many people know that the Dark Lord was once Tom Riddle?”

Belladonna’s answering smile was wry. “None but those in this room.” She paused, adding as an afterthought, “Perhaps Albus Dumbledore as well. It would explain why the Dark Lord was so eager to get rid of the old coot. Abraxas and I helped the Dark Lord with his new identity—spreading false information regarding his origin, falsifying documents and such—under the condition that he doesn’t kill Lucius, and we don’t let anyone know who the Dark Lord had once been.” Her throat clogged up. “I think the Dark Lord would have killed us had he received news that Lucius got married. With our son in a better position to inherit the Malfoy legacy, Abraxas and I…we wouldn’t be useful anymore. Just liabilities.”

At that moment, a small part of Lyra was impressed by how determined and dedicated Tom Riddle must have been, to hide his origins, change his name and re-invent himself to such an extent that his own house-mates didn’t recognise him. A bigger part of her loathed him further for making her mother-in-law sad.

The name struck a chord in her mind, though, and Lyra pondered on where she’d heard it before. When the epiphany enlightened her, Lyra whitened. “Oh Hecate,” she breathed out, mortified, turning towards Walburga. “Mother, please tell me this isn’t the same Tom Riddle who was Head Boy that you used to tell us about when we were little. Lie, if you must.”

Walburga’s cheeks pinked when Orion flashed her an amused glance and Lucretia and Alphard snickered. “It is, actually.”

“It makes sense,” Lyra muttered under her breath, frazzled and panicking. “If Tom Riddle is the Dark Lord and he can speak parseltongue, and I can speak parseltongue, and you used to go on and on like as if you fancied—holy fuck, is he my father?”

Regulus’ mouth dropped and Sirius fell off the sofa. Bellatrix choked on his own spit, Narcissa was wide-eyed, Lucius was coughing into his palm while Alphard burst out laughing.

"Oh Morgana,” Sirius was hugging his knees on the floor now. "I'm going to look like a snake when I grow up."

"No, you are not," assured Walburga. "I have been faithful to your father all my life."

"And by my father, you mean...?"

"Orion," gritted out Walburga. "Orion is your father—all of yours. Yes, even you Lyra. My maternal grandmother was a Gaunt and you simply got lucky. And oh, for Circe's sake, stop looking at me like that, everyone! I have no idea why I'm having to defend my fidelity, but I can swear a Wizards Oath if you'd like, and if you have any doubts even then, remember the Tree Room back at Grimmauld Place. The tapestry cannot lie nor can it be manipulated, our ancestors made sure of it. Unfortunately, I'm the mother of the three of you and Orion is your father. So calm down, Sirius. Your genes are blessed and you'll continue looking like a prince." Very firmly, Walburga reiterated: "I am loyal to my husband. I mean, sure I minutely fancied Tom at one point, but—“

Belladonna snorted, and so did Abraxas, Lucretia, Ignatius, Alphard, Charlus, Dorea and Orion.

"Minutely fancied," repeated Lucretia, snickering in between the words.

Walburga narrowed on her. "Yes, minutely fancied. You got a problem, Prewett?"

"No, no, not at all." Lucretia shook her head. "See, before getting married to my beloved husband Ignatius, I minutely fancied him as well—not to the level of stalking his every move, wrapping chocolates in handwritten love-poems to gift him for Yule or dressing up in his favourite colours, however.”

"But you do look lovely in scarlet," chimed Ignatius.

Lucretia beamed. "Why, thank you, love."

Walburga’s nostrils flared. If she had been a dragon, smoke tendrils would have been seen. "I did not wrap the chocolates in handwritten love poems!"

"She's right," commented Alphard. "Orion was the one who wrapped the chocolates in those notes and I was the one who hand-wrote the poems—although Wally did dictate and compose them. Get your facts straight, Lucretia."

"Right. Apologies, Wally," intoned Lucretia dutifully, not sounding apologetic at all.

Walburga huffed, turning her head away and crossing her arms.

"Okay, okay, stop it here, darlings," interjected Melania, tossing a concerned glance to where still, Sirius looked horrified, Regulus looked faint and Lyra looked rather green in the face.

“Agreed,” said Lucretia and proceeded to change the topic: “Anyway, what do you think the other Horcruxes are?”

Abraxas hesitated. “I’m not sure. However, he… At one point, he became obsessed with anything related to the founders. Even went to Albania for a while, which, as you all know—“

“Is the suspected location of Lady Ravenclaw’s diadem,” completed Orion, his brain pulling up everything he knew on the matter when Abraxas confirmed his statement with a nod. “Taken there by her daughter, Helena, who was later murdered by the very person her mother had sent to bring her back safely.”

“The Bloody Baron,” muttered Lucius under his breath before clearing his throat and saying, “So can we take it that Ravenclaw’s diadem is one of the horcruxes?”

“Yes,” stated Lyra, her head tilted similarly like Arcturus and Orion, features pulled together like she was deep in thought. “We don’t know where it is, though. It was theorised to be in Albania, but there’d been no proof. And now, we don’t know where Tom Riddle would have hidden it.”

Sirius, James and Regulus exchanged a glance. Then, Regulus nudged James with his elbow and looked at the rest of them pointedly.

James opened his mouth, probably to protest, but when he noticed Lyra level a raised eyebrow his way, he rubbed the back of his neck, laughing awkwardly. “Say, everyone? Ravenclaw’s diadem wouldn’t be a crown, would it?”

“Well, not really a crown,” chimed Regulus, sounding nervous. “More like a tiara.”

“With blue stones lined with silver,” added Sirius, and now, the three had captured the attention of all the adults in the room.

“Yes,” Alphard, professional curse-breaker, confirmed slowly and suspiciously. “Ravenclaw’s diadem is exactly the way you three described it.”

Dorea narrowed her gaze at the three children. “What do you know, and more importantly, what did you do?”

James laughter again, in the awkwardly charming way he did when he knew he’d be in trouble, and swivelled to Regulus, who shook his head, indicating that no, he wasn’t going to be the one to let the adults know how they knew, somehow, about a horcrux.

“We got in trouble,” Sirius blurted out, posture casual even if his shoulders were stiff. “Or, rather, we were about to. We stumbled upon a room on the seventh floor and just, hid in there. We stayed there for quite a while and explored it—that’s how we found the diadem. The door sort of disappeared when we left though, but it did reappear when we, uh, needed to hide again.”

Dorea hummed. “And what did you do, to have to hide so often?”

“Uh,” Sirius’ gaze darted to Lyra, pleading, and Lyra decided to don her white cape and save him.

“Salazar Slytherin had a locket,” she remembered. “That could also be a possible horcrux, especially since the Dark Lord had been a Slytherin himself.”

“So, Tom Riddle’s diary, Helga Hufflepuff’s goblet, Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem, Salazar Slytherin’s locket,” Ignatius listed off. “Is the last one Godric Gryffindor’s sword?”

The Slytherins in the room wrinkled their noses in a union and said something along the lines of “No, not a chance. Never.”

Ignatius, Charlus, James and Sirius wore matching offended expressions on their faces.

It was Petrov Krum whose voice cut through: “What could it be?” His voice was tangled in nerves and worries, and Alphard wrapped an arm around his shoulder and with his other one, squeezed Petrov’s hand.

Silence settled for a few seconds before Walburga broke it. “There was a ring, wasn’t there?” She turned to Belladonna and Abraxas. “He didn’t have it in our initial years, but during the sixth year and onwards, he always wore a ring. It looked like an heirloom.”

“I remember that.” It was Alphard who spoke. “I asked him, once, when he was training me to become Silver King after him, what that ring was. He did mention it was an heirloom, but I remember thinking his name was too muggle for a ring that looked so magical.” He frowned. “It looked horrendously familiar.”

Walburga nodded, creases forming on her forehead. “I agree, but I can’t remember where…”

“A portrait,” voiced Cygnus, suddenly, speaking for the first time. “One of the portraits in the attic of mother, grandfather and great-grandfather. Great-grandfather wore the same ring Riddle had. I…I thought he’d bought a rip off ring with a regal design somewhere, given how Riddle didn’t have money, family or a proper name.”

Irma appeared alert. Beside her, Pollux asked his younger son, “Describe what the ring looked like.”

“The band of the ring had been made of gold with fish-scale engravings,” recited Cygnus from memory. Being the husband of Druella and father of Narcissa had given him an acute memory of jewellery and enabled him with the knowledge to describe them well. “The stone was black and an octagon. I think the Peverell’s coat of arms had been inscribed on it, but I can’t be sure. There had been a circle though, surely.

Irma looked up sharply. “That’s the heirloom of the House of Gaunt,” she recognised, alarmed. “One of my cousins, Marvolo, inherited that ring.”.

At that, Walburga did a spit take. “Marvolo? There was a Marvolo Gaunt?” At her mother’s curt nod, she elaborated, in a quieter tone: “T.M.R. Tom Marvolo Riddle. That’d been his full name.”

Sharp inhales were drawn across the room, Walburga’s words creating a rippling effect. Pieces of the puzzle fit better. Tom Riddle being a Gaunt meant he was half-blood, and it explained his parselmouth inheritance. None of them commented on the irony of an heirloom of the rumoured Slytherin line being worn by a half-blood out of respect and fear of Irma, but they did find it funny in their minds.

“So that’s five.” Druella broke the silence, her arms slung over Narcissa comfortingly. “What now?”

“We burn them,” answered Lyra, crossing her legs. “The poison in the fang of a basilisk works as well.”

“No,” intoned Arcturus, voice cold enough to cause hypothermia. “He burnt us, so it’s only fair we burn him.”

“It’s poetic,” agreed Pollux, deviousness in his tone.

“We’ll have to research whether destroying any horcrux alerts the monster in some way,” Melania mused. “If it does, we’ll have to burn them at once. Otherwise, it’ll be easier.”

“I dabbled in researching soul magic once,” admitted Lucretia, surprising absolutely nobody. “Aunt Lycoris taught me before she passed. It’s been a while, so I’ll have to double-check, but…I don’t think he’ll feel it. We’ll be able to do it separately.”

“Confirm it,” commanded Arcturus, waiting for Lucretia’s nod before saying, “Whether or not Lucretia’s words hold true, we’ll have to do everything and end it all quickly.”

Alphard hummed, leaning forward. “What’s our deadline?”

“Three days, but sooner the better.”

Abraxas, despite himself, snorted. “You really adore the number three, don’t you, Archie?”

“Arithmetically, it’s a very powerful number,” defended Arcturus, earning affectionate smiles and rolls of eyes from the rest of his family.

“Three days sound good,” voiced Orion thoughtfully, who just last year had ruined the Most Ancient and Noble House of Avery with lesser time, ammunition and cause of revenge.

“We already have Tom Riddle’s diary with us,” started Dorea, “along with Hufflepuff’s goblet, and the boys know where Ravenclaw’s diadem is. That’s three down already.”

“Was Tom Riddle wearing the ring when you last saw him?” Lyra directed the question to her in-laws.

Belladonna frowned. “No, I don’t think so.”

“So we’ll have to track that,” said Lyra, creating reminders in her mind. “And Salazar’s locket, of course.”

Melania’s eyes swept over them. “There’s twenty-five of us here, right now,” she counted. “And three of Lyra’s friends who know what happened.” Dennis, Cassandra and Theodore had returned to their homes, intending to keep up appearances and subtly gather the information that could potentially be useful. “So, let’s divide and conquer.”

“We don’t have a plan yet to divide and conquer, mother,” Orion reminded her, ever patient.

“I have one,” Alphard spoke up and glanced at Lyra. “It’s sort of adding onto your earlier one.” Petrov squeezed his hand, making Alphard toss him a quick, thankful smile before explaining, “So, like, there are three things that I think we should do. The first is divide and conquer.” He held all their gazes meaningfully, and it was at times like this that people remembered that Alphard had been Slytherin king, once. “The second is creating a distraction for people to focus on, and the third is solidifying a good offence to be our defence. I know we won’t be using Lyra’s plan regarding the bill now that we’re planning to kill, not wound. However, I do believe we can still use the Wizengamot as a distraction.”

“A lot of the Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot in the dark and dark-neutral faction make up the Death Eaters,” said Lyra, catching on. “And the doors of the Wizengamot once shut for a session, cannot be opened until all the agendas are complete. So, if, say, the introduction of a bill is endlessly being spoken about—“

“None of them would be able to answer His distress call,” finished Alphard, grinningly. “Yes, exactly.”

“I can introduce it,” Narcissa spoke, her features carefully masked like she expected to be rejected. With a moment’s hesitation, she added, “I’m good at droning on and on about things and…Well, not to brag, but I am the Silver Queen.”

“I’ll attend with Narcissa,” volunteered Regulus, giving his cousin a quick smile. “For moral support and any other kind of support.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” approved Arcturus. “And of course, since this is a Wizengamot session, Abraxas, Charlus, Ignatius and I will also be there. We’ll make it as long as we can, as well, and help you out.”

“I also know a bit more of the bill thanks to Lyra,” added Charlus, smiling encouragingly at Narcissa and Regulus. “I could summarise some of the most controversial thoughts and questions and tell it to you both. That’ll surely put the Wizengamot in a ruckus for a while. All the sides will be arguing amongst themselves so much, it’ll be easier since half the work will be complete.”

Narcissa looked relieved. Considering the Wizengamot session was the next day, it would have been immensely hard for her to absorb all the implications and minute details of a bill she hadn’t known existed a little under an hour ago. She shot a grateful smile to Charlus, and Regulus mirrored her. “That would be much appreciated. Thank you, Lord Potter.”

Charlus grinned, waving her off. “Of course.”

“And don’t worry,” interjected Ignatius, looking grinningly between Arcturus, Abraxas and Charlus. “We’ll keep the debate and shouting running for a long time. We’ll definitely make it go out of hand—that’s the easiest way to get everyone fired up. I finally have an excuse to tell my father-in-law exactly what I’ve thought about him in the most colour words, to his face.”

Arcturus chuckled, but his features darkened. “Go ahead, Prewett. Try your best. We’ll see who walks out crying.”

Lucretia sighed. “I wish I could see that,” she said, and by Lyra and Alphard’s reflecting expressions, she wasn’t alone.

“It’ll be fun,” Arcturus resumed, still looking at Ignatius. “Won’t it be, Abraxas?”

Abraxas released a long-suffering sigh. “I suppose nobody will be surprised with you two asking daft questions at every turn at all the bills introduced, but I have a reputation to maintain.”

“I will tell everyone about how exactly you acquired your first peacock,” Arcturus said, nonchalantly, but Abraxas stilled.

“However,” added Abraxas, glaring at Arcturus, and then, at Ignatius and Charlus when the former shot a thumb’s up to the Arcturus and the latter roared in laughter, “Lyra is part of my family now. Sacrifices will have to be made.”

“Remember the story I told you about Lucius riding peacocks?” Belladonna asked Lyra and when she nodded, the former continued, “Well, Abraxas went to India for his heir travels and managed to offend a peacock, which proceeded to attack him. Abraxas then, as revenge, declared that he would eat it and spent the day trying to capture it and was over-powered at every turn. The peacock, unfortunately, got caught in a hunter’s trap along the way, and that made Abraxas offended on the peacock’s behalf and, long story short, a mutual understanding and respect had been developed between Abraxas and the peacock and he returned from his travels with a companion.”

Lyra tried to hide her grin behind her palm. The rest of her family offered Abraxas no such clemency, outright laughing. Abraxas pouted, glaring daggers at his wife.

Arcturus looked disappointed. “Well, thank you for telling them that, Bella. Now, I have one less thing to blackmail Abraxas with.”

“You are very welcome,” intoned Belladonna easily, before shooting a look at her husband. “And stop sulking, for Circe’s sake!”

“I am not sulking,” Abraxas snipped, absolutely sulking. “I’m brooding. There’s a difference.”

Lyra turned to Lucius. “You copied your father’s dialogue.”

“You don’t know that. Maybe he copied it from me.”

Lyra shook her head. “His peacock story is much more fascinating than yours, no offence, love. I’m more inclined to believe you copied it from him.” Now, Lucius pouted, and Lyra rolled her eyes affectionately. “You don’t have to sulk like him as well.”

“Brooding!” Both the Malfoy men corrected, offended, simultaneously, before trading a glance and gaining identical splattering of pink on their cheeks, setting off a domino effect of laughter once more.

During this time, Orion had somehow managed to acquire a leather-bound notebook (that thankfully wasn’t the horcrux of one Tom Riddle) along with an inked quill and began to read his notes aloud. “So, regarding the divide and conquer bit, I’ll write father, Lord Malfoy, Lord Potter, the person who is shagging my sister, Narcissa and Regulus as the team for the Wizengamot distraction. Is that alright with everyone?” When he received affirming responses and nods, Orion said, “Next team, I assume, is Horcrux hunting. Boys?”

“We’re on it,” said Sirius instantly.

He shared a grin with James, who added, “We can get Ravenclaw’s diadem easily. We won’t get caught—we’ll be cloaked in the shadows.” He snickered, and so did Sirius and Regulus.

“Dumbledore will also not be there,” Dorea mused. “So all the boys need is someone to transport them there and out quickly.”

“I can do that!” Ted blurted out, then blushing under everyone’s stare.

Dorea blinked, sized him up, and then told Orion, “Write his name down. The three of them will be on the horcrux retrieving team of the diadem.”

James and Sirius exchanged another grin, and then shared another one with Ted. Andromeda watched the scene with a small smile while Orion dutifully wrote it down.

“Walburga should be on the horcrux hunting team. She knows Tom Riddle best.” For once, humour and fibs were void of Lucretia’s tone. Rather, she sounded complimentary. “Salazar’s locket and the Gaunt’s ring, right? There is a possibility that the horcruxes could be something else as well, but…If anyone knows them—knows where they’re hidden—it’s Walburga. She has to be on the team to retrieve them.”

“I suppose I should,” affirmed Walburga while Alphard and Cygnus glanced at their sister and mother with the barest trace of worry before it disappeared.

“I’ll come along as well,” said Bellatrix, unnaturally quietly. “I’ve spent some time with the Dark Lord from the past few years. I can help.”

“You can,” said Irma, voice confident and proud, knowing how hard it must have been for her granddaughter to pick a side and being happy that she chose the winning one. “The Gaunt ring belongs to me since the proper—“ pureblood “—Gaunts from the mainline are dead. I’m coming to retrieve my heirloom.”

“I also know Tom Riddle,” Belladonna said. “And I’m not bad with runes and wards either. I’m coming.”

“Okay,” said Orion, noting down those names. “Anyone else in this team?”

“Me, of course,” responded Lucretia, causing Orion to set down his quill. She held her brother’s gaze as she said, “I know more about soul magic than anyone here. I’m needed.”

“You’re annoying,” corrected Orion but wrote down her name regardless. “You better not be harmed.”

Lucretia grinned, waving him off. “Ye of little faith.”

“And I’ll try not to be harmed too, Orion,” said Walburga, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah,” said Alphard, mimicking his sister’s tone. “I’ll also be safe, Orion. Thanks for your concern.”

“Anytime.” Orion smiled at them, watching as the two siblings shared an eye-roll and Cygnus muttered something about how he was disowning his siblings for being embarrassments. “What’s our next team?”

“I think we need two more,” said Lyra, now cuddled to Lucius’ side, still in the wedding dress she never had the opportunity to change out off. “A team to distract the other Death Eaters—the ones who won’t be in the Wizengamot—so they’ll be too preoccupied to answer the call for help, and another team to establish alibis and take care of the evidence.”

“The cleanup crew is the most important,” agreed Arcturus, and levelled a pointed gaze at Orion, Lucretia, Dorea and Alphard who flushed at the reminder of why exactly a particular rule in ‘Grandpa Archie’s Nine Policies That Anybody Who Does Not Want To Get Disowned’ was coined.

“Perhaps I can help,” Petrov said suddenly, and then reddened under everyone’s attention, mumbling, “with the clean-up crew.”

Pollux’s eyes softened as he looked between Petrov and Alphard. “You really found someone perfect for you, son.”

“I know.” Alphard grinned, throwing his arm around Petrov’s shoulders before saying in a concerned whisper, “I appreciate the thought, darling, but you really don’t have to do this. Doing any of the things we’re planning to do will make you a criminal or an accomplice to one—not that we’ll be found out, of course.”

“I want to do this,” replied Petrov, smiling slightly as he leaned into Alphard’s side. “Besides, you always talked about the two of us being partners-in-crime. Why not make it literal?”

“I love you,” Alphard blurted out, his savvy countenance looking adorably flustered for the first time. “Like I genuinely, actually love you.”

Petrov blushed. “I love you too,” he said, and kissed Alphard’s cheeks, causing the man to wear a goofy smile. Then, Petrov paused, like he had a sudden thought, and looked at Lyra. “So when you said Alphard engaged in human trafficking before—“

“I meant it literally,” confirmed Lyra, and Alphard looked at her in utter betrayal. “He sold my mother to a circus once. My grandfather had to write a whole new policy regarding selling things and people that don’t belong to them just because of Alphard.”

Arcturus nodded in confirmation. “It’s rule number eight in the list. The ringmaster had not been a pleasant man to deal with.”

“But he was dealt with,” added Walburga, eyes glimmering vengefully.

Orion looked at her fondly, before telling Petrov. “I got to hit him with a knife. Gently though. It was just a tap into his heart.”

Despite himself, Petrov paled a shade. “Sounds…fun?”

“It was.” Orion sighed, dreamily, before shaking his head, dispelling the memory from his mind and twirling the quill in his hand like a baton. “Anyway, any volunteers with Petrov for the cleanup?”

“Me,” chimed Lyra, adding, “Dennis, Cassandra and Theodore can also help with this.”

“So can I,” said Andromeda, slowly.

“As a Ministry official, it’ll be easier for me to falsify a few documents,” Cygnus drew out, his way of volunteering.

“And I’m good at make-up and masking things,” Druella spoke up next.

“Sounds solid. I suppose the rest of us are on Death Eater distraction duty?” Orion asked lazily, writing down the names of the remaining people—himself, Alphard, Lucius, Pollux, Melania and Dorea.

“Yep,” said Alphard brightly. “In fact, I have a brilliant idea on how to distract the other Death Eaters. It’ll work no matter what.”

“And I have a contingency plan should it not work no matter what,” assured Melania, winking at Alphard.

“Wonderful.” Arcturus directed a heavy gaze on each of them, conveying his thoughts through sheer will. “I’m proud of each and every one of you for putting aside your differences and coming together at these tough times despite all the personal issues you’re going through. I’m glad you pledged your loyalty to House Black.” His eyes lingered on Bellatrix, and she rewarded him with a smile that came off as a grimace.

Then, Arcturus continued, “Our home went up in flames and we’re rising from it. I suppose it would be appropriate to describe us as phoenixes. However, my mind goes back to the symbol of our house, patterned on our family sigil—the crow. Does anyone here know what the crow symbolises here? Yes, Lyra?”

“Intelligence,” replied Lyra, “adaptability, cleverness, teamwork and reciprocity and transformation. Popularly, they’re also considered a bad omen and accused of bringing death.”

Arcturus was beaming. “Indeed. To this pretend pureblood, we’ll be crows. Together, we’ll be the bringers of his death, in this operation, named, Shades of Silver—“ He glanced at the Malfoys, before smiling at his family “—and Black.”

Identical, blinding grins bloomed on everyone’s faces. A certain wrathful kind of adrenaline flowing through their veins like a dangerous current.

“Oh,” said Lyra, abruptly, causing the moment to break, her grin slipping as her eyes swept the sea of faces around her. “We’re missing someone. Did anyone inform Great Aunt Cassiopeia about this?”

Loud groans and curses filled the room, replacing the giddy anticipation from earlier, answering that they, indeed, hadn’t informed Aunt Cassiopeia—their resident ward master, and expert at throwing grapes and glares—about this.

“She’ll kill us,” muttered Orion. “She hates being left out of family gatherings.”

“Does this count as a family gathering though?” Lucretia mused, and winced, shaking her head. “Never mind. Ignore me, please.”

“Oh, Morgana,” Lyra breathed out, horrified, clutching fistfuls of the skirt of her dress. “I forgot to invite her to my wedding.”

Everyone winced and it took a while for someone to finally speak up.

“She won’t kill us,” said Arcturus, sounding like he was trying to convince himself of that, not the rest of them. “She has to submit the three-day notice, remember?”

Melania raised an eyebrow. “This coming from the man who literally told us to fuck the three day notice a few hours back?”

After she'd spoken, she clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes sliding to Sirius, James and Regulus in mortification for having cursed in front of them. The three boys grinned winningly at her and even offered a thumbs-up.

“And not to worry,” Pollux said in false cheer. “Cass has always been incredibly forgiving, hasn’t she Arch?”

Arcturus opened his mouth, and when nothing came out, he closed it. He pursed his lips, turning to Regulus. “Please go write a letter to your Great Aunt Cassiopeia regarding this?”

Regulus nodded, rising to his feet. “On it.”

Long story short: Cassiopeia Black hadn’t been happy to be left out of either event. She promised to channel that murderous rage to kill the Dark Lord and not her siblings, though.