POV: Arcturus Black
Arcturus sat in the Great Hall, his breakfast untouched. The usual cacophony of chatter and clinking silverware surrounded him, but he was lost in thought. His attention snapped back as a black-and-silver envelope materialized in front of him, bearing the unmistakable Black family crest. His heart quickened as he reached for it, breaking the wax seal with a practiced hand.
The note inside was penned in elegant, flowing script:
Alya Black has been discharged from St. Mungo's. You and your great-grandmother are expected at the manor this afternoon. Arrangements for your transport have been made.
Relief washed over him, though it was quickly replaced by apprehension. This reunion was what he had fought for, yet it carried a weight he wasn't sure he was ready to bear.
"Everything all right?" Holly Potter's voice cut through his thoughts. She sat across from him, her green eyes observing him curiously.
"Fine," Arcturus replied curtly, folding the note and slipping it into his robe pocket. He offered no further explanation, unwilling to share the complexities of his family matters.
Holly shrugged, seemingly unbothered by his reticence, and returned to her meal. Arcturus, however, remained restless, his mind already racing ahead to the meeting that awaited him.
By mid-morning, Arcturus found himself standing in the headmistress's office. The room was austere yet imposing, much like McGonagall herself. The portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses lined the walls, their painted eyes observing him silently.
"You have my permission to leave school grounds for the day," McGonagall said, her tone brisk but understanding. "Family obligations are not to be taken lightly, particularly in these times."
"Thank you, Professor," Arcturus replied with a respectful nod.
Moments later, a Black family house-elf appeared to escort him and his great-grandmother. The diminutive creature was impeccably dressed in a tailored uniform, a mark of the family's pride and status.
The portkey, a polished obsidian disk, was cool to the touch as they gripped it. The familiar sensation of being yanked through space was disorienting but brief.
They landed gracefully in the grand entrance hall of the Black family manor, its opulent decor a stark reminder of their lineage's power and history.
As they steadied themselves, Arcturus couldn't help but reflect on the responsibilities he now carried. The ancestral home seemed to hum with the weight of expectation, its very walls whispering of the legacy he was bound to uphold.
The parlor was a masterpiece of old-world elegance, with dark wood paneling, intricate carvings, and portraits of stern-faced ancestors. Arcturus stood by the fireplace, his great-grandmother seated regally in an armchair beside him. The crackling fire added warmth to the otherwise formal setting.
The door creaked open, and Alya Black entered. Her presence was commanding, despite the faint pallor that hinted at her recent hardships. Her dark hair was neatly styled, and her sharp, intelligent eyes took in the room with an air of confidence.
"It's good to see you on your feet again," the great-grandmother said warmly, though her tone remained dignified. "You've done the family proud, Alya."
Alya inclined her head respectfully. "I've only done what was necessary, but it is thanks to Arcturus that I am here today. His efforts ensured justice was served."
She turned her gaze to him, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Not bad for a man," she said, her tone teasing but carrying an undercurrent of sincerity.
Arcturus flushed slightly but held her gaze. "It was the least I could do," he replied, his voice steady.
The great-grandmother observed the exchange with a faint smile, her pride evident despite her usual reserved demeanor. This was a moment of triumph for the family, and she would savor it.
Later, in a smaller study tucked away from the grandeur of the main rooms, Arcturus found himself alone with Alya. The fire in the hearth cast flickering shadows on the walls, creating an atmosphere of intimacy and reflection.
"You've done well, Arcturus," Alya began, her voice carrying a weight that demanded attention. "But don't mistake this for the end. The world isn't kind to those who stop moving forward."
He met her gaze, sensing the unspoken challenge in her words. "I understand," he said. "There's still much to be done. Pettigrew, the—"
Alya raised a hand, cutting him off. "Spare me the details. I trust your judgment. But remember, Arcturus, our name carries both privilege and burden. You must be prepared for whatever comes. Besides, Petra is currently on her way to Azkaban"
Her words were sharp but not unkind, a testament to her respect for him despite the societal expectations she'd been raised with.
"I will," he promised, his resolve hardening under her scrutiny.
The return journey to Hogwarts was a quiet one. Arcturus and his great-grandmother sat side by side, the hum of the portkey fading into the background as they traveled.
"You've done well, my boy," his great-grandmother said suddenly, breaking the silence. "The Blacks have weathered centuries of turmoil, and we will endure for centuries more—thanks to you and Alya."
Her words were both a comfort and a reminder of the expectations he bore.
As they approached Hogwarts, Arcturus reflected on the day's events. Alya's release was a victory, but it was only one step in a much larger journey. Pettigrew's capture, the looming threat of the Basilisk, and the ever-present weight of the Black legacy were challenges he could not ignore.
But for now, he allowed himself a moment of quiet satisfaction. His family was whole again, and he had played a part in ensuring their survival. Whatever came next, he would face it with the same determination that had brought him this far.
POV: Holly Potter
Holly Potter had never expected her life to take yet another unexpected turn. She sat on a bench near the edge of the lake, lost in thought as the crisp December air nipped at her cheeks.
The sun hung low in the sky, casting golden hues over the frozen water. She had received a note from Professor McGonagall earlier that morning, asking her to meet someone at the main gate. No details had been provided, only a simple instruction.
When Alya Black appeared, dressed in tailored wizarding robes that exuded both power and elegance, Holly almost didn't recognize her, according to the images she saw, Alya was quite emaciated, absolutely not the woman she now saw. The woman's demeanor was commanding yet warm, her presence somehow familiar. Holly stood hesitantly, unsure of what to expect.
"Holly Potter," Alya said with a smile that reached her sharp, intelligent eyes. "I've been waiting to meet you for a long time."
Holly blinked. "You're… Alya Black?"
Alya's smile grew. "That I am. Your parents spoke of you often, you know. They were extraordinary people."
The mention of her parents sent a pang through Holly's chest. "You knew them?"
"Knew them?" Alya's voice softened. "They were family, Holly. And now, so are you."
The sincerity in Alya's words broke through Holly's usual defenses. She looked at the woman before her, searching for any hint of pretense but found none.
The two walked along the grounds, and Alya began recounting stories of James and Lily—their courage, their humor, their undying love for each other and for their daughter. Holly listened intently, feeling as though she were piecing together parts of herself that had long been missing. Alya painted a vivid picture of her parents, not as distant legends, but as people who had laughed, argued, and dreamed.
"They fought so hard for you, Holly," Alya said, her voice tinged with both pride and sorrow. "And they would be so proud of the witch you've become."
Holly's throat tightened. "I… I wish they could see me now."
"They do," Alya assured her. "And they're with you in ways you can't imagine."
The conversation turned to lighter topics, but Holly's heart remained heavy. It wasn't until Alya turned to her with a serious expression that Holly felt the weight of the moment.
"Holly," Alya began, "I'm here to ask if you'd like to come live with me. I know you have a lot to think about, but I've recently regained my freedom and my place in the Black family. I want to offer you a home—a real home."
Holly stared at her, stunned. The idea of leaving the Dursleys, of finally being part of a family that wanted her, was almost too much to process. She felt tears prick at her eyes but forced them back, nodding slowly.
"Yes," Holly said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'd like that."
Alya's smile returned, brighter than ever. "Good. Then it's settled."
The holiday break arrived, and with it came a sense of both joy and sorrow. Holly found herself standing in the grand bedroom of Eliana Black, the matriarch of the Black family, whose time was drawing to a close. The room was filled with warmth despite the chill of winter, a fire crackling softly in the hearth.
Arcturus sat at the bedside, his face pale and eyes rimmed with red. Alya stood behind him, her hand resting on his shoulder as a silent show of support.
Holly lingered near the doorway, unsure of where she fit in this deeply personal moment. Eliana's frail form lay beneath layers of blankets, her once-piercing grey eyes now softened by age and impending mortality.
"Come closer, child," Eliana beckoned to Holly, her voice weak but steady.
Holly hesitated before stepping forward, standing beside Arcturus. Eliana's gaze swept over her, and a faint smile touched her lips.
"So, you're the Potter girl," Eliana said. "You'll be a good addition to this family."
Holly felt a lump in her throat. "Thank you," she managed.
Eliana's attention shifted to Alya. "You've done well," she said. "Not bad for a man," she added with a faint chuckle, addressing Arcturus. "You've brought honor back to this family."
Arcturus lowered his head, tears streaming down his face. "I only did what you taught me."
Eliana's expression softened. "And you've done more than I could have hoped. Alya, keep guiding him. Holly, keep him grounded. Together, you will make House Black strong again."
As the evening wore on, Eliana's strength waned. She spoke of the family's legacy, of the sacrifices made to preserve their name, and of the hope she had for the future.
Her words were both a blessing and a charge, a reminder that they carried the weight of history and the promise of tomorrow.
When her final breath came, it was with a smile, her hand resting in Arcturus's.
The room fell silent, save for the soft crackle of the fire. Arcturus wept openly, his shoulders shaking as Alya pulled him into a comforting embrace.
Holly stood beside them, feeling the weight of loss but also the strength of the family she now belonged to.
In that moment, they were united not just by blood, but by purpose. Eliana's passing marked the end of an era, but it also set the stage for a new beginning—one they would face together.
Despite the sorrow, there was a sense of renewal, a promise that the future would be brighter for House Black. As Holly, Arcturus, and Alya left the room, they carried with them the lessons of the past and the resolve to honor Eliana Black's memory.