Chapter 23: Family Bonds and Lingering Frustrations

POV: Holly Potter/Arcturus Black

Holly Potter stepped hesitantly into the grand but eerie hallway of Number 12, Grimmauld Place. The ancient home of the Black family loomed around her, its dark wood paneling and ornate silver fixtures exuding a sense of age and authority. Alya Black strode ahead, her posture regal and commanding, while Arcturus lingered behind, his expression unreadable.

"Welcome home, Holly," Alya said, her voice warm yet firm. "This house has a complicated history, but it's yours now, as much as it is mine and Arcturus's."

Holly nodded, clutching her worn backpack tighter. It was hard to imagine this imposing place ever feeling like home, but Alya's presence was oddly reassuring. She had a way of making Holly feel both protected and challenged, as though expecting greatness from her was the most natural thing in the world.

As they ascended the staircase, Alya gestured to the portraits lining the walls. "These are your ancestors, through your father's side. The Potters and the Blacks share more history than you might think."

Holly's eyes were drawn to a particularly stern-looking man in a high-collared suit. "Who's he?"

"Doreus Black," Alya replied. "Your great-grandfather. He married into the Potter family. A formidable man, much like your father in spirit."

The mention of her father sent a pang through Holly's chest, but she didn't shy away from it. Instead, she let the thought settle, grounding herself in the knowledge that she was connected to something larger than herself.

Later that evening, Holly sat cross-legged on her bed, a collection of old photographs spread out before her. Alya had given them to her after dinner, explaining that they were some of the few remnants of her parents' life together.

One photo caught her attention: Lily and James Potter standing arm in arm, laughing, with a younger Alya in the background. Alya's expression was softer than Holly had ever seen it, a far cry from the composed and enigmatic woman she knew now.

Holly traced her mother's face with her fingertip, her vision blurring with tears. "Mum," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Dad. I wish you were here."

The air around her seemed to shimmer, and Holly felt a surge of warmth in her chest. It wasn't the first time she'd experienced accidental magic, but this felt different—stronger, more deliberate. The photographs shifted slightly, their subjects seeming to pause and look directly at her before resuming their movements.

Startled, Holly wiped her eyes and leaned back. The house creaked softly, as though acknowledging her presence. For the first time, Grimmauld Place didn't feel entirely unwelcoming.

In her study, Alya Black stared into the flickering flames of the fireplace, a glass of wine untouched on the table beside her. The day had gone as she'd hoped, but her mind was restless. Taking Holly in was more than an act of duty; it was a gamble, one that could shape the future of the wizarding world.

Alya's thoughts drifted to Lily and James. She'd admired them both, albeit for different reasons. Lily had been bold and charismatic, but it was James's brilliance and determination that had left an indelible mark. Holly carried those same traits, even if she didn't fully realize it yet.

"She has the potential to be extraordinary," Alya murmured, almost to herself. "But potential means nothing without guidance."

Her gaze shifted to a letter on the desk, sealed with the crest of the Wizengamot. Politics and power plays were second nature to Alya, but Holly represented something purer: a chance to build, rather than simply maneuver. It was a chance she couldn't afford to squander.

"And then there's you, Arcturus," Alya said aloud, her tone softening. Her nephew was brilliant but volatile, his ambition both a strength and a liability. Balancing the needs of both children would be no small feat, but Alya was nothing if not determined. 

The following morning, Holly found herself in Diagon Alley with Alya and Arcturus. The bustling streets were decorated for the holiday season, and Holly couldn't help but feel a flicker of excitement despite her lingering nerves.

Alya led the way into Quality Quidditch Supplies, where she purchased Holly a sleek new broomstick—a Nimbus 2001. "Every young witch needs a proper broom," Alya said, her tone making it clear that this was non-negotiable.

Holly's protests died on her lips as she held the broom, its polished handle gleaming in the sunlight. "Thank you," she said quietly, her voice filled with genuine gratitude.

Arcturus watched the exchange with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. "Careful, Holly," he teased. "Aunt Alya has a way of making you feel like you owe her something."

Alya raised an eyebrow, unperturbed. "Perhaps because you do, Arcturus."

The three of them shared a rare moment of laughter, the tension that often lingered between them momentarily forgotten.

As they left the shop, Alya stopped abruptly and turned to face Holly. "There's something I need to discuss with you," she said, her voice uncharacteristically hesitant.

Holly blinked, caught off guard. "What is it?"

"I've decided to name you as my heir," Alya announced, her words crisp and deliberate. "The Black and Potter legacies are intertwined, and it's only fitting that you represent both."

Holly's mouth fell open. "Your heir?"

Arcturus stiffened, his expression carefully neutral, but Holly could see the flicker of surprise and something else in his eyes.

"Yes," Alya said firmly. "You've already proven yourself capable, and with proper guidance, I believe you'll exceed even my expectations."

Holly's mind raced. She'd spent her life being underestimated, first by the Dursleys and then by much of the wizarding world. Alya's faith in her was overwhelming, but it also felt like a challenge she couldn't refuse.

"I'll do my best," Holly said finally, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside her.

Alya's lips curved into a rare smile. "I have no doubt."

Holly Potter adjusted to life in Grimmauld Place with surprising ease. The house, though steeped in an oppressive air of history and lingering traces of dark magic, began to feel more like a home under Alya's energetic influence.

The once-shadowy halls now gleamed with polished wood, the smell of freshly baked bread often wafted from the kitchen, and laughter echoed in rooms that had known only silence for decades.

For Holly, Arcturus Black quickly became something unexpected—a little brother she never had.

Though he carried himself with the maturity of someone older, his moments of awkwardness, his frown when concentrating too hard on a spell, and the rare, unguarded smile made it impossible for Holly to see him as anything but endearing.

She teased him lightly about his meticulous habits, ruffled his hair when he wasn't paying attention, and insisted they spend time together exploring the house's hidden nooks or playing wizard chess.

Arcturus, however, was far less at ease with their dynamic. Though he appreciated Holly's warmth and genuine care, he bristled internally at the situation he found himself in.

He was the direct male heir of the Black family, yet Alya had named Holly as the heiress—an arbitrary decision that grated on him.

Holly's connection to the Black family, tenuous as it was, seemed to hinge solely on her gender, a fact that stung far more than he wanted to admit.

Despite his frustrations, Arcturus couldn't bring himself to resent Holly fully. She treated him with kindness, never lording her new status over him.

Alya, too, was a source of conflicting emotions.

She was everything he admired—powerful, sharp-witted, and fiercely protective—but her decision to favor Holly over him felt like a betrayal.

Still, he couldn't hate her.

Not when she encouraged him in his studies, offered thoughtful advice, and seemed to genuinely want the best for him.

Holly, for her part, remained oblivious to Arcturus's inner turmoil. She often invited him to join her in activities, eager to include him in the warmth she was slowly bringing to Grimmauld Place.

One chilly evening, the two of them sat in the library, poring over a tome of ancient spells Alya had recommended.

"You're really good at this," Holly said, watching as Arcturus carefully translated a passage. "It's like you have the whole Black family's knowledge packed into your brain."

Arcturus gave a noncommittal grunt, his quill scratching against the parchment. "It's just practice."

"Don't be so modest," Holly said, nudging his shoulder. "You're the smartest person I know."

He glanced at her, startled by the sincerity in her voice. For a moment, his frustration ebbed, replaced by a flicker of warmth. "Thanks," he muttered, returning to his work.

Over the weeks, their bond deepened despite the unspoken tension. Holly, ever perceptive, began to notice the way Arcturus's eyes lingered on the family tapestry, his fingers tracing the threads of lineage that should have placed him at the center of the Black legacy.

She saw the way his jaw tightened when Alya mentioned her plans for Holly's role in restoring the family's reputation.

One evening, as they sat by the fire, Holly decided to address the growing weight she sensed in Arcturus. "You know," she began hesitantly, "I'm not sure I deserve everything Alya's giving me."

Arcturus looked up sharply, his expression unreadable. "What do you mean?"

"I mean... you're the real Black heir," Holly said, twisting her hands in her lap. "It doesn't feel right, you know? I didn't grow up with this family. I didn't earn it."

Arcturus hesitated, torn between honesty and the instinct to deflect. Finally, he said, "It's not about earning it. It's about what Alya thinks is best for the family."

Holly frowned. "But what about what you think?"

He didn't answer, staring into the flames instead. Holly reached out, placing a hand on his arm. "You're important to this family, Arcturus. To me. I don't want you to feel like you're being pushed aside."

Her words, though well-meaning, only deepened Arcturus's conflicted feelings. He nodded, forcing a small smile. "Thanks, Holly."

Despite the unspoken tension, the two continued to share moments of genuine connection. They decorated the house together for the upcoming holiday season, their laughter filling the once-silent halls. Alya often joined them, her sharp wit and boundless energy drawing them closer as a makeshift family. Even as Arcturus grappled with his resentment, he found himself cherishing these moments of togetherness.

In the end, though, the question of his place in the family remained unresolved. For now, he pushed it aside, focusing on the bonds they were building. Perhaps, he thought, there would be time to address his frustrations later. For now, he would allow himself to be part of the family Holly and Alya were so determined to create.