Ursa V
Ursa was one of the many who could say that they had never seen the stars; not truly, at least. She imagined what it was like to look into the heart of it - bright and white and beautiful, all-encompassing and consuming as it sucked in attention like a black hole. Imagined only, because whilst it was ancient outside the walls of the wizarding world compared to Before, Before was not so advanced as to see the inside of stars.
But perhaps, she could see a glimpse of that beauty through the fire that seeped through when the runes halted.
Narcissa gripped her hand tightly, the silver carving a half-moon into the grey of her eyes. They stood in a row oldest to youngest, with Sirius at the very end. Even as the heir-presumptive of House Black, he was too young and too immature to stand beside the elder members of the house. A quick glance at him showed that he, too, was swept up in the grandeur of the flames and Ursa wondered how she had thought the green flames of the floo could be comparable to this.
They were not actual flames; not really, only manifestations of magic. It was a fascinating subject that she had covered briefly when the rite was being explained. Although the flames produced heat and if she stuck her hand into them, her skin would surely burn, they produced no smoke and required no oxygen to exist. Some of the books called it a weaker version of fiendfyre, but there were so many differences between the two-
A candle was pressed into her palm, empty of grandeur unlike the numerous ones dotted around her home. She snapped her head up to see Druella smiling down at her on the cusp of amusement as her hand was enveloped by her sisters. “Come on,” Narcissa edged on impatience, tugging not unkindly. “Imbue it. I can go first if you’re scared.”
The bottom of the candle was the same as the rest, pasty wax that felt itchy in her palms, but unlike the rest, there were ancient runes etched into the bottom. Ursa squinted, trying to decipher them, but only made out a few squiggles that reminded her vaguely of Egyptian work. Ursa had started with Futhark and other European-based systems and only recently had she even started to look at anything beyond the basics.
Druella pulled out a short knife, barely even that, and handed it to Narcissa. “I have to show Sirius since Walburga isn’t here and Orion is with your grand-uncle. You know how to do it, yes? Then can you-”
“Yes, mother.” Narcissa didn’t show any sign of irritation, because she couldn’t get away with that anymore, but it was hidden deep within the twitchy smile on her face. She dragged the slip of a knife across her palm and dripped the welling blood into the grooves and dips of the runes. “I can show Ursa, you don’t need to worry.”
Druella gave her an absent pat on the head before sweeping off to Sirius, who looked rather lonely.
“Here, it might sting a little but it’ll heal with the rite completed.” Narcissa held Ursa’s palm upright, frowning. “Do you want me to?”
“Please.” Ursa wasn’t queasy at the sight of blood or causing blood on others but the idea of self-mutilation was something that had always sat… ill with her. At least, it wasn’t needles.
Her sister hummed and angled her palm for better access as she pressed the blade into her palm. The feeling of skin splitting was awful, mild nausea rising in her stomach, and when it was done she slid her palm across the runes just like her sister had done before her. “Make sure you get every crevice.”
Blood was a liquid; if you placed it on a surface facing downwards, it would drip down. The blood that lingered around the runes fell onto the grass but the dark red that stained the actual runes stayed still as if gravity was a force that only applied when you wanted it to. Ursa didn’t run her fingers along them to see if it would stick to her fingertips, but it was a close thing.
There was a shuffle of fabric and low murmurs as people broke out of the reverie that had captured the clearing. A few, elegant figures swept out first, their cloaks sweeping behind them like looming shadows and leant down to where the flames danced merrily. They seemed to dance in front of her very eyes as they cupped something hidden in the shadows of their hands.
“You can ask father more about it later!” Narcissa finally huffed and Ursa nearly tripped over her feet as she was abruptly dragged forward and closer to the rune line. It wasn’t very far away in the first place, she grumbled to herself. There was no need for Narcissa to be so harsh. When they reached the rune line, Narcissa crouched down and held out the wick of the candle.
Sensing her hesitance, Narcissa grabbed onto her wrist. “We can do it together!”
Fuck , Ursa knelt down beside her, I genuinely love this girl. So much.
Her hands didn’t shake when she held them out but she could feel the minute tremors trying to make themselves known. The heat of the activated runes was hot and heavy and her clothes were uncomfortable against her skin. She held out the candle, the flames licking closer as if they knew - of course, they knew, they were magical fucking runes - that the candle was there.
When the candle lit, the wick went out immediately.
Only for the blood to somehow become gasoline and burst into beautiful, pearly flames.
Ursa knew it was going to happen - she had been warned - but it didn’t stop her flinch as the heat chased up her arms harmlessly. Narcissa hid a chuckle behind her palm but Ursa glared at her anyway. “Do you feel it?”
For a moment, she was befuddled. “Feel what-?”
There was a gentle push-and-pull at the natural pool within her. Magic was a constant, for witches and wizards and all creatures in the wizarding world. It existed in everything, even muggles, although it lay dormant in them if the theories about it were correct. Ursa couldn’t sense magic, she wasn’t that special, but if she deliberately looked she always found a discrepancy where there hadn’t been one as Anna.
“What’s that?” Ursa asked in a hushed voice.
Narcissa did laugh this time; smothered and quiet, but there. Ursa buried her satisfaction beneath curiosity, prodding more into the weak connection. A memory surged to the forefront of her mind; the push and pull of the ocean. The force, unknown to her, pulled on snippets of her magic and then pushed back with such great strength that if she closed her eyes and focused she could easily become seasick. “What’s it doing ?”
“It’s harmless, to us.” Narcissa leaned back, gently lowering herself onto the grass. There was a timeless grace to her sister that seemed to follow her from childhood and no matter how Ursa tried to mimic it, she somehow always fell short. Thankfully, neither Andromeda nor Bellatrix had that sort of perfection bred into their bones although they each had their own, special quirks. “It a sense of new beginnings. A good luck charm, you could call it.”
Good luck .
It seemed so… minute in the grand scheme of things. Ursa buried her frown beneath her satisfaction and tried to review the war; hadn’t most purebloods gone under the radar during the trials? The real traitor had never been revealed and it was only a few, desperate acts that had turned the war in the Order’s favour and it was only Lily’s sacrifice-
Narcissa continued on. “Mostly, it just helps with performing magic. It’s why purebloods are so naturally skilled in all areas and why mudbloods and half-bloods struggle to keep up with us in terms of scores. It’s also why we’re naturally more robust - well, more so than other magicals.”
“What about in real life?” She pried. “Does it work when you try to lie?”
“I mean, of course, but not too much. It just means that people might glance over important details if they have a weak personality. If they have a strong one, like say Bellatrix or Aunt Walburga, well…” Narcissa’s eyes landed on their eldest sister, who was throwing her candle from one hand to the other. “Let’s just say you’d have a better chance taking them down than getting one over on them.”
Well, Ursa had only been taught the basic spells that every first year would learn, so the chances of being able to duel her sister or aunt one-on-one and win were slim. Luckily, she had no current plans to take down her semi-sane family members.
Point being, current . She’d have to see how things played out first.
“Are you done playing thirteen questions?” Because that was the wizarding version of twenty questions . It was the same thing and Ursa was convinced that a muggle-born or half-blood had tricked some pureblood into playing it and it had caught on like wildfire. “Right then, let the fire die down.”
The tension that had been plastered over the clearing, wrapping around every member until it was on the verge of snapping, released without violence. Which, for a Black family gathering, was half of a miracle. The underage, like her and Sirius and her siblings, sat in quiet circles and talked as the flames quietened with the mood. The upper ranks seemed much more stiff, sitting with their spouse or alone.
Sirius had joined them after some time, which wasn’t saying much considering that they were only a bit apart. He fell back with a smile, his candle wrapped in a tight grip. “That was so cool! Why didn’t we do that before?”
“Because the rite would overload our magic.” The flames on her candle had dulled to a white glow, still brilliant and shining. In the rune circle, the fire still roared but the heat had dulled to lukewarm and the licks of pale ivory tickled instead of burning her skin. “It would render us a squib, if not a muggle or could lead to death if you're really young-”
“Yeah,” The corner of his lips quivered with hidden mischief. “We get it, you read.”
“Stop it, Sirius.” Narcissa chided, shutting him down without hesitation and his imploring eyes landed on Ursa before her sister launched into another lecture about the mannerisms appropriate for the heir of House Black. Her cousin hadn’t the spine, yet , to simply get up and walk away from her sister when she got on a tangent but Ursa was sure he would soon. And then, she would be free from the duty of releasing poor, unsuspecting souls from her wrath.
(She didn’t worry about Regulus. Regulus had more sense than to get caught and if he ever did, it would likely be at Ursa’s will and then she would leave him be.)
“It’s alright, Cissy.” Ursa squeezed her sister's hand, pulling up a smile from the depths of her emotions. She hoped it was convincing; she had spent a very long time trying to mimic different expressions, ranging from happiness to awe to fear to adulation. “Its-”
The fire in the rune circle dropped, enveloping the clearing in darkness.
No , Ursa did not shuffle closer to her sister. She did not, she was not scared-
“Ah.” Her sister stood smoothly, moonlight glancing off her eyes. The clearing was not entirely unlit. There were lanterns alight with a false flame around the edge, hanging off trees and ancient poles and creating an area that cast shadows onto everybody’s face. “You should get back to your father, Sirius.”
Sirius’ face was dimly lit and she could only make out the vague features of his face, planes hidden by blankets of darkness and curves darkened to a grey. If she hadn’t known it was her cousin, Ursa might think it was a complete stranger. “Yeah, yeah.” He grumbled, before stopping as he peered around. “Wait, where is he?”
“Right here, dear.”
Druella swept in with impeccable timing. Narcissa was mature and level-headed to Sirius’ hot-temper, but she couldn’t wrangle him for longer than it took him to understand that he could just leave . Ursa peered around her mother’s cloaked form and behind her was her Uncle, his face empty of emotion rather than full of mild disapproval. Perhaps if her loathsome aunt was here, she might even have been smiling.
“Sirius.” There was the sound of silk against silk as Orion held out his hand for his son to take and with great reluctance, he took it. “Come.”
“Do we have to go?” He whined.
Orion hummed, as if in agreement with his son. “Yes. You do not want to face your mother’s wrath, do you?”
A hand landed on her shoulder and nails dug into her shoulder as Druella took them to where Andromeda and Bellatrix were huddled together. There was something to be said that she didn’t protest going along with her mother. Nobody in their right mind really wanted to meet with Walburga Black for longer than necessary, which might be why Bellatrix enjoyed talking with their aunt.
Huh. She wondered…
“Now I just need to find your father,” Druella grumbled as she released her death-grip, talons retracting as she squinted around at the departing gathering. “Honestly. He’s probably gotten stuck talking with Lucretia or one of Arcturus’ girls.”
“Aunt Charis said she wanted to talk to him, mother.” Bellatrix absently twirled a strand of curly hair around her finger. She matched the description in the books much more now that she was older with her delicate edges that cut like knives and, to their mother’s horror, the newer, more ‘scandalous’ hairstyles.
The woman didn’t relax but Ursa saw her gaze caught on something and felt a surge of pity when she watched her dark eyes narrow with pure displeasure. “Yes. Stay here.”
It left the four sisters in awkward silence. Neither of them talked much as a family anymore. Bellatrix needled everybody she thought she could get away with, including Ursa, which meant that Narcissa’s overprotective sisterly instincts kicked in and it left Andromeda to try and diffuse the argument, usually unsuccessfully. Ursa would do it herself, but unlike Regulus and Sirius where she was either older or just a bit younger, she was far too young to be taken seriously.
“So, Cissy.” Bellatrix started, bold and brash. “How’s that fiance of yours?”
Although Cissa would cut Bellatrix’s throat, no hesitation, if she started on Ursa - which, she loved her sister so much, had she mentioned it? - she didn’t enjoy starting fights. Her sister shrugged. “ Lucius is alright, how’s yours?”
“The Lestrange is alright, I suppose. He’s powerful, he’s rich and he has a brother so…” Bellatrix tossed her hair behind her head. “No kids.”
“Don’t the blood ties that exist with children keep alliances alive, though?” Ursa asked because she could. Bellatrix was a B-class bitch, and that was only because Walburga took the top spot.
She was levelled with a flat look of distaste. “The Lestrange’s are french or something, right? Well, Narcissa’s malfoi probably has some connection with them since they like to intermarry so many families for their own prestige anyway-”
“That’s not true!”
“-it probably won’t matter in the long term.” Bellatrix shrugged, hand on her hips. Ursa was struck with the sudden image of a young Walburga, pompous and vicious. Then she gasped in faux shock. “Oh, sorry, I forgot. We weren’t supposed to talk about it.”
“Children please.” It had been a long time since Cygnus had stepped into any of their squabbles, and perhaps it was the shock of it that made her two sister’s quiet down. Would they have even argued if Ursa hadn’t been born? Would they have even thought to argue?
She shook those thoughts out of her head; what-ifs would drive her mad if she kept lingering on them.
They were herded towards the Floo, handed a bit of green powder each from the ancient pot that was eternally-full and left after each other in quick succession. Bellatrix complained about the state of the fireplace, ash and crumbling from constant use and little cleaning, but went with less complaint than usual.
Before she left, she eyed the rune circle - or where she thought the rune circle was. “What do we do at the summer solstice?”
Her father - Druella had already left, having gone first to try and keep some semblance of peace in their ragtag familial relationships - had given her half a smile. “Why don’t you wait to find out?”