Disclaimer; the Sídhe are mine, I think….but Harry Potter and anything/anyone you recognize from the books belongs to J. K. Rowling, I'm quite firm on this.
Warning; Trad (Traditio Corporis)/Harry/Perv (Pervasor Memoria)! this is male/male, man/male!magical creature, SLASH story.
Notes; one more chapter about what's going on "out there".
Whisper Of Ancient Blood
"Sirius Black, what are you doing, are you mad?" Bella, of all people, asks this of her cousin when he appears. She's seen him first, but she isn't alone and the Dark Lord Voldemort looks up, studying him as well. Silently Sirius is surrounded by Death Eaters, the Dark Lord's inner circle.
"I announce Sirius Black, the Lord and Master of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black." Kreacher calls even more attention to them, proudly as any pure blood born into arrogance.
"Welcome." Bella can not tell if the Dark Lord is serious or not. Bella does know that Kreacher is serious, very much so, so bows her head in acknowledgement of her cousins newly won (and it would be a battle, with Walburga Black to face for the blood right) rank in their family. Her cheeks are flushed, if the Dark Lord is being serious, that is one thing – if he is not, that is another, and he will pay. He loyalty first has always been to her family, and it's survival, no matter the pure-blood name.
"Why come here?" LuciusMalfoy, the husband of Bella's younger and favorite sister,Narcissa asks.
"Lord Black desires a boon, his cousins by blood right – the Ladies Bellatrix Lestrange andNarcissa Malfoy stand at your side, and yet he stands accused of a crime he did not commit. Yet it was committed by your servant Peter Pettigrew. Right this wrong against the name of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black." This Kreacher demands, as if he is wizard and no mere House Elf. In the old days, this was done Bella remembers – very formally, the Lord Black would never speak save though his blood family and House Elves.
Bella straightens and looks the Dark Lord in the eye; for LuciusMalfoy's own eyes are wide. Between Malfoy and Black, Bella knows which family is the more powerful pure blood line, and if Lord Black demands must be met – or the family, Bella, Narcissa, and Andromeda threewould take their children Cissa's boy Draco, and Dromeda's girl Tonks – would go as the Lord Black willed.
"It will be done, only tell me how." Tom nods as if agreement had always been on his mind, and he had been waiting, bidding his time to agree.
"Your servant Peter Pettigrew." At these words Kreacher's grin is almost evil.
"My lord, please no – mercy!" Wails the most pathetic wizard Bella has ever set eyes upon, appealing to the Dark Lord only now as he hunches huddling at the feet of the Dark Lord.
"As you wish…" The Dark Lord makes a gesture, and the red mark about Peter Pettigrew wrist fades to black, fades from sight. He is unclaimed – a Death Eater no more, and no Death Eater will fight to keep him.
"Lord Black." Bella calls her cousin – weak and wimpy Sirius Black no more, formally and respectfully. It is a loneliness digging into her, to be the eldest of her sisters, to have only part of her family, and so scattered that their very names are not the same.
"A boon for me?" Kreacher glances to his Lord and Master, as if reading his mind. He might, who knows what unspoken powers the House Elves possess?
"Speak it." Kreacher asks, bobbing his head in a nod.
"There are no Lestrange's to whom I am married kin, and I was born Black – may I be named Bellatrix Black again, as is my birth and blood right?" Bella had never been disowned by the Black family, as Sirius was – but always Sirius was Heir – and only Sirius could be Lord, the last to have the name of Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.
"It is no boon to claim your name, a name that was always yours and will always be." Lord Sirius Black says, and Bellatrix Lestrange bows her head but when she meets his eyes, she knows her name is Bella Black.
"My thanks for reminding me." Bella agrees, and Sirius smiles. As if that is his sign for Kreacher, they are gone as quick as they came – and so too is Peter Pettigrew.
It is later when Severus Snape arrives, with news that Albus Dumbledore would meet the Dark Lord Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest.
With new eyes, Bella Black looks over Severus Snape, and smiles her own smile. He was hers first, a boyfriend she courted, and then lost because he chased and caught the attention of the Black Heir - but he will be hers again. She thinks Lord Black might even approve. Or share.
If there is one meeting that Cornelius Fudge will never forget - it is meeting Lord Sirius Black for the first time. He was in his office, doing paper work (there is a surprising amount of paperwork in being Minister of Magic, which really Fudge prefers to other –more important – duties: which in all honesty, he usually lets Dumbledore take care of for him) when he appeared, by House Elf – and with Peter Pettigrew at his feet. That man, lumpy and unkempt quickly crawls to Cornelius Fudge – who lets out a yelp of surprise.
"Help me, oh please, help me!" Rat-like, the man screeches. There are Aurors at his door, wands drawn and alarmed – in their ranks are also members of Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix, Fudge knows.
The curtains become ropes that bind the wreck of a man before he can flee or flatter. Fudge is almost relieved enough to be thankful.
"This is Peter Pettigrew, alive, and a traitor undeserving of the Order of Merlin too hastily given him by the Ministry of Magic. With his lips he shall tell no lies. My master's name is cleared from the crime of murdering his best friend James Potter and his wife Lily Potter, or any attempt on the life of Harry Potter." This the House Elf says, so simply, he does not care that a foundation of lies have become unstable and with the evening and morning papers, will topple down with the weight of truth. Over a decade buried, coming now to light.
"And your master, he is?" Cornelius Fudge is standing, so his voice does not shake as his knees do. At this the House Elf smiles, most unpleasantly – as if he had been hoping for just such a question.
"Sirius Black, the Lord and Master of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black." With that the House Elf bows, though the man does nothing, shrouded in power so thick it's like a robe to carry: a wizard or witch does not like to look directly toward someone who wields so much power as this.
"Very good, Kreacher." Lord Sirius Black smiles, recklessly, and his words are a purr rumbling out of him, like thunder from a sudden storm.
And just like that, they are gone.
Cornelius Fudge isn't at all reassured he's seen the last of Lord Sirius Black.
While Albus Dumbledore walks into the Forbidden Forest, Tom Riddle, the Dark Lord Voldemort, already waits for him there.
"I must know if you've planned this – a visit from Lord Black, on the same day Harry Potter rides aback of Dementors to claim Azkaban for his own. Quite ingenious, and suspicious, you must surely admit, for it all to happen this very day." Tom speaks, as one equal to another, and Dumbledore knows there will be no fighting between them, not here. Here is a place lost to both wizards and witches of Sídhe and Sluagh Sídhe bloodlines, it is a pure blood place, it is sacred – and lost to them.
"I have played no part in these happenings; do you claim them at your own workings?" Dumbledore sits across from Tom, one on a rotted tree and one on a broken rock. Neither have their followers in sight, and neither sides expects to see their counter-parts. This is a pact, but neither is a stupid man.
"You know it is not in me, those great spanning plans. It's brilliant, and I admire the effect – is all our world not scurrying to adjust? To change, we must relay on sturdy foundations – the foundations wizards and witches were bred for, by pure blood of Sídhe and Sluagh Sídhe. Our ways are not mortal." Dumbledore sighs, and with his breath a Tom looks up, meets his eyes.
"They are now. You do not look well." Dumbledore tsks, and Tom laughs.
"And you? You are old, Albus Dumbledore. I'm not so bad, for one who's beaten Death." Tom had not thought Albus would care one way or another for his health.
"You'll not hold Death off for long. I wonder which of us will die first, the old man, or the man who had died and come back." Dumbledore does not think Tom came back whole – how can he, with his soul split and torn? It hurts him, to see the ruin of a student and wizard who could have been great and tossed greatness away for immortality, a impossible dream – not for the likes of they.
"I'd rather not linger on it, if it's all the same to you Albus. Think on this, the boy – the Lord Black, all on the same day, ancient powers coming back – our ancient family magic's – could it be them, the Sídhe?" Tom breaths that word, that name of their ancient race, breaths it as if its living, out there beyond the likes of their senses. Perhaps it is.
"Undoubtedly it is. Are not the Dementors of the Sluagh Sídhe?" Old lore that is, half believed, half thought merely myth. But with magic, what is myth is not always wrong.
"So says the old lore, the oldest. We know this, the question is – what will we do about this knowledge?" Dumbledore wishes everything were so simple, that they could sit and talk about it like this. For the world (muggle or magical) at large to think of this would be beyond their grasp, and that is wrong (for the magical world)– that is mortal, for two sides to be always opposites and fighting to the death rather then agree to disagree and speak together, it is very mortal. Albus had often thought that the Sídhe and Sluagh Sídhe had foreseen this andfled from them rather then to let this mortal feeling of fighting and slaying an enemy infect them.
It had probably broken their hearts, to leave their very children – but which was worse? To flee family or mortality?
"Do? What can we do? Bella's suggested I set aside old grievances with the boy, make peace." Tom looked to the stars, and Albus wondered what he saw among them. What great and terrible things stars, to remind them of mortality and immortality.
"Can you, dare you?" Albus murmured, looking to Tom quite seriously. Tom felt that gaze, heavy and mortal – weighing him, judging him. He met it, and challenged it.
"Dare I not?" It was almost a whisper, and Albus would not have heard if the Forbidden Forest held a wind within it. It did not, all was silence and waiting. They had thought the Forbidden Forest dying; perhaps it did not die, but was abiding its time, waiting, as all immortal things wait to act.
"If the Dementors have chosen their Lord of Azkaban, the Sluagh Sídhe – a Lord among us, that is three – the Lord Black, myself – I would be fool to challenge either of them, why not stand beside them? If it can be in the old way, like it was between Sídhe and Sluagh Sídhe – but between us, wizards and witches – is not a worthy thing? A great thing worth living to see…?" Tom asked it almost gently, for he did not like reminding Albus of mortality, as if it proved the old man right and Tom himself was not meant for immortality.
"Indeed." Albus only agreed, thoughtfully. He had not seen Tom without his hate and fear of his own (mortal) blood for so long he had forgotten what he was like without it. What promise he had had for greatness, destined for something – Albus had always thought so, but he had been wrong before – and right as well.
"So the Lord of Azkaban stands between the Sluagh Sídhe and we; the Lord Black for the Sídhe – and you Tom, Dark Lord that you are – where do you fit in with these three Lords-Kings?" Albus curled his fist under his chin and waited for Tom to say it, as only he could acknowledge what Albus Dumbeldore saw so clearly.
"Can you not guess? I'm the Dark Lord, the Lord of we, wizards and witches." Tom closed his eyes, painfully.
"And you have made a right mess of things." Dumbledore agreed, and Tom opened his eyes, fixed them upon his once teacher and mentor, and demanded an answer that Albus Dumbledore had not thought to live to hear.
"Can we fix things?" Thoughtfully, Albus Dumbedore nodded his head.
"We will need to put your soul back together, but your mind is in the right place." Tom was grateful enough to hear it, but things are far easier to say then to do. Yet things never said - rarely get done.
Sirius Black Innocent! (front page)
by Larry Ballad
Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge announced today that Peter Pettigrew, long thought a dead hero, was apprehended today on murder charges. Veritaserum was given in a private case, revealing that Sirius Black was innocent in the murder of James Potter and Lily Potter. By his words admittance Pettigrew gave them up to the Dark Lord, and further Peter Pettigrew bears the Death Eaters mark leaving no mistaken identity almost thirteen years later. The Order of Merlin that was thought posthumously given has been gifted to Sirius Black. Who was unavailable for comment, also unavailable for comment was Harry Potter – but his friend Ron Weasley made this statement: "We knew he was innocent!"
Dumbledore announces DADA Professor (pg. 10)
by Rita Skeeter
Disproving rumors of the Jinxed DADA position, in light of the numerous accidents that have befallen previous professors Headmaster Albus Dumbledore came forward with news that position was filled and would not be left to last minute staffing this year. "We are proud to have Professor Marvolo on staff this year, and look forward to many more years of his teaching here." Dumbledore said, after having announced a mixed meeting of Hogwarts professors, students, and families – those in this meeting included, former DADA Professor Remus Lupin (the werewolf!) as well as Molly and Arthur Weasley – their daughter Ginny, 'Mad-Eye' Moody, and Professor McGonagall. Sirius Black was also rumored to have attended, and while reactions to Professor Marvolo were mixed – Albus Dumbledore assures everyone that: "He'll settle right in."