Family History

July 22, 1993, 5:00 PM, Grimmauld Place

Sirius leaned against the doorway of the room he’d not found five minutes ago, his arms crossed, a mixture of amusement and exasperation flickering across his weathered face. He had returned only moments ago to find Harry and Adam standing amidst the rubble, their clothes torn and faces streaked with dust and sweat. The dim glow of runes illuminated the boys’ wands, still clutched tightly as if danger lingered in the air.

He had been away for mere hours, yet in that time, they had somehow managed to get into seemingly life threatening trouble once again.

A wry smile tugged at Sirius’s lips despite the worry gnawing at his chest. These two, he thought, were both his pride and his eventual undoing.

Inevitable, isn’t it, James?

“So, let me get this straight.” Sirius said, his voice steady but laced with disbelief. “You found a secret set of chambers in a cave system from this secret room that no one in my family ever knew about, broke into it, fought off enchanted statues, and then had a chat with some pompous ancestor of mine? What was his name— Cassius?”

Harry shifted his weight, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Well, when you put it like that…”

Adam, however, stood tall, his chin jutting out defiantly.

“We handled it.” He said, his tone sharp, almost challenging.

Sirius arched an eyebrow, studying Adam for a long moment. The boy’s confidence was striking, but it rubbed Sirius the wrong way. Harry at least had the grace to look sheepish, aware they’d overstepped. Adam, though…

The boy was as unyielding as ever, and that defiance stirred unease in Sirius’s gut. He wasn’t sure how to rein in someone so headstrong, but he pushed the thought aside for now.

Still, he couldn’t deny their feat. Surviving a clash with animated statues, guardians of some ancient tomb or whatever it was— that was no small thing. Pride swelled in his chest, though it warred with the fear of what might have happened.

“You could’ve been killed.” Sirius said, his voice softening, concern breaking through. “Why didn’t you come get me?”

Harry glanced up, his green eyes shadowed with guilt and fatigue.

“We didn’t think it’d be that bad.” He admitted. “It was just a big cave— at first. Then the statues woke up, and… we couldn’t exactly stop to send an owl.”

Adam snorted, folding his arms. “The pathway was sealed, anyway; the only choice was to go through.”

Sirius’s jaw tightened, but he held his tongue. There’d be time to deal with Adam’s attitude later. For now, he needed answers.

“Alright.” He said, stepping into the room, looking around the vault. “Tell me everything. From the start.”

Harry began, recounting how they’d stumbled upon the secret cave system, guided by an old journal. Adam chimed in, detailing their battle. They battled against the small statues before the large one awoke, and they crippled that one by targeting its knee and eventually won, revealing a black door that led to a chamber housing Cassius’ portrait.

Insanity…

“And this portrait you found.” Sirius said, his voice low. “It wouldn’t deign to speak to anyone but a ‘true Black’?”

Adam nodded. “Yeah. Called us scum for not being family.”

Sirius gave a short, dry laugh. “Sounds like a Black, alright. All blood purity and arrogance.”

He ran a hand through his dark hair, his mind racing. Cassius Black— he remembered seeing that name far back in the tapestry’s ancestry.

A storied member of the family, wasn’t he? Yet, his actual achievements were never divulged to me; I’d always assumed it was nonsense.

That this man’s portrait lay hidden behind lethal traps meant something significant— and likely perilous— awaited them in the future. His own vision of his family’s past had been changed.

Sirius glanced at the sealed wall where the black door had been, his eyes narrowing.

“So, you think I can get him to talk?” He asked.

Harry nodded eagerly. “He said only a true Black would do. That’s you, Sirius.”

Adam shrugged. “Could be. Though from his attitude, I wouldn’t expect him to be nice about it; he almost went into a spiel like your mum’s portrait does.”

Sirius smirked at that. “Is that so? I’ve handled her, so this should be a ‘walk in the park’, as they say.”

And yet, unease coiled in his stomach. The Black family’s legacy was steeped in danger, and this felt like the edge of something vast. Still, with potential knowledge like this, he knew that he couldn’t turn his back.

Cassius was their lead, however unpleasant.

“Alright.” Sirius said, straightening. “Let’s go see this Cassius Black. But no more dangerous stunts, got it? You’re lucky to be breathing.”

Harry nodded quickly, chastened. “Got it.”

Adam just shrugged. “We’ll see. The world seems set on putting us in danger.”

Sirius stifled a sigh.

Adam was right, of course; but it still didn’t mean that the boy should be seeking out an early demise.

He shook his head; for now, they had a portrait to face.

Sirius followed Harry and Adam through the portal, shivering as he did so.

“Not like any magical travel I’ve experienced before.”

“Yeah.” Came Adam’s response. “Disgusting, isn’t it?

Sirius found that he agreed.

He followed them through the depths of the caverns, marveling at the architecture within. The air grew cooler and damper with each step, carrying the musty scent of ancient stone and the faint tang of something metallic— perhaps old blood or forgotten spells.

The walls, rough-hewn by hands long turned to dust, were etched with runes that glowed with a faint, spectral light. Sirius traced his fingers over one jagged symbol, feeling the thrum of magic pulse beneath his skin like a living heartbeat. These were no mere carvings; they were wards, protections woven into the stone by wizards and goblins centuries ago, their power undimmed by time.

“The implications alone…”

“I know.”

Ahead, Adam moved with a predator’s grace, his wand held aloft to cast a thin beam of light that danced across the uneven floor. Sirius watched him, a knot of unease tightening in his chest. The boy was fearless— too fearless, perhaps. He navigated the twisting paths with an ease that suggested he’d walked them a hundred times, his confidence teetering on the edge of recklessness. Beside him, Harry kept close, his eyes wide and restless, darting to every shadow and crevice as if expecting something to lunge from the dark.

“You know, Harry.” Sirius said, forcing a lightness into his voice to cut through the oppressive silence. “If you grip that wand any tighter, you might snap it in half— or hex your own foot off.”

Harry glanced down at his white-knuckled hand and loosened his hold with a sheepish smile. “Sorry. It’s just… this place gives me the creeps.”

Sirius chuckled, though the sound felt hollow in the cavern’s depths. “It’s meant to. Places like this were built to keep people out— or to keep something in. Maybe both.”

Adam glanced back over his shoulder.

“Or both.” He echoed.

They turned a corner, and the passage widened into a cavern vast enough to swallow their feeble light. The ceiling arched high above, lost in a shroud of darkness, while the walls glittered with more runes, their glow casting eerie, shifting patterns across the floor. Sirius paused, his gaze snagging on a particularly intricate symbol carved deep into the stone— a ward against intrusion, ancient and vicious, the kind that could strip flesh from bone if crossed. He’d seen its like before, in the forbidden corners of his childhood home.

This one’s inactive, it seems. Sirius thought. Perhaps the magic in this place was dying off?

“Yeah. I saw it too.” Adam said, noticing his stare. “Glad it wasn’t working. A protection of your family’s making?”

Sirius nodded, his voice low. “My family always had a flair for the dramatic— and the deadly. Some of these runes aren’t just for show.”

Harry shivered, his breath visible in the chill air. “Do you think there could be more traps ahead? The statues were bad enough.”

“Undoubtedly.” Sirius replied, his eyes still tracing the ward’s sharp lines. “But if you two made it through once, we should be fine. Just stay close— and don’t touch, interact with or even approach anything you don’t understand.”

They pressed on, the silence broken only by the soft echo of their footsteps and the distant, rhythmic drip of water seeping through unseen cracks. The air grew heavier pressing against Sirius’s skin like a physical force. His heart beat faster, a drumbeat of adrenaline and memory.

The tension thickened as they neared the final chamber. Sirius could feel it— the lingering echoes of the battle that had raged here hours before. The floor was strewn with rubble, jagged chunks of stone that had once been towering statues, their enchanted forms now shattered and lifeless. Dust hung in the air, catching the light in ghostly swirls. In the center of the chaos stood the black door, its surface smooth and unblemished, a slab of obsidian that seemed to drink in the light rather than reflect it.

Sirius approached it slowly, his wand at the ready, every nerve alight with caution. A pulse of magic emanated from the door, a low thrum that set his teeth on edge and made the hairs on his arms stand upright. This was no ordinary portal; it was a gateway, sealed with spells older than Grimmauld Place itself— spells that whispered of secrets and sacrifice.

Adam stepped up beside him, his expression impatient, almost bored. “It’s just a door, Sirius. We’ve been through it before.”

Sirius shot him a sharp look, his voice edged with warning. “Nothing in this place is ‘just’ anything, Adam. You’d do well to remember that.”

Adam frowned, but he nodded. “Noted.”

Harry, standing a few paces back, watched them with wide eyes, his face pale in the dim, flickering light, his fingers twitching around his wand.

Taking a deep breath, Sirius reached out and placed his hand on the door. The surface was cool, almost icy, and for a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then, with a soft click that echoed like a gunshot in the stillness, the door swung inward, revealing the room beyond.

It was a stark, bare chamber, the walls unadorned save for the portrait that dominated the far wall. Cassius Black stared down at them from the canvas, his eyes cold and piercing, his expression one of haughty disdain. He was a striking figure, with shoulder-length hair the color of midnight and a neatly trimmed goatee, dressed in robes that spoke of wealth and power long faded into history.

The frame was heavy, gilded with intricate carvings that mirrored the runes outside; a testament to the Black family’s arrogance.

As they stepped inside, Cassius’ gaze flicked over Harry and Adam, dismissing them with the barest curl of his lip. His eyes settled on the wall behind them, as if they were beneath his notice… intruders unworthy of his attention.

Adam cleared his throat, the sound sharp in the oppressive silence.

“This is Sirius Black.” He said, his voice steady and clear, echoing off the bare stone. “A trueborn member of the Black family.”

At that, Cassius’ eyes snapped to Sirius, and for a long moment, the room was silent. Sirius met the portrait’s gaze, his own expression unreadable, though his pulse quickened beneath his calm exterior. The air between them crackled with tension, the weight of centuries of family history— pride, betrayal, and dark ambition— hanging heavy in the space.

Finally, Cassius spoke, his voice smooth and cultured, but laced with a venomous contempt that seemed to seep from the canvas itself. “So, you are the one they claim as a Black. Let us see if you are worthy of the name.”

Sirius smirked, though there was no humor in it, only a defiance honed by years of rejecting his family’s legacy. “I’ve never much cared for the name, to be honest. But if it gets you talking, I’ll play along— for now.”

Cassius’ eyes narrowed, a flicker of something— anger, curiosity, or perhaps recognition— passing through them. He said nothing for a while, his silence a challenge Sirius knew he’d have to meet head-on.

This is a battle he’ll lose. Sirius said, and the quiet dragged on until Cassius spoke again, ceding this exchange.

“So, you are the one they claim as a Black.” Cassius began, his tone dripping with disdain, not even acknowledging their little challenge— so like his family. “A disgrace, consorting with mudbloods and half-breeds, tarnishing the family name.”

Sirius’s fists clenched, his temper flaring at the familiar venom. He’d heard it all before— from his parents, his cousins, the echoes of a lineage he’d fought to escape. But here, face-to-face with this relic of the past, the words struck a raw nerve.

“You dare speak of disgrace?” He fired back, his voice sharp and unyielding. “The Black family’s been rotting for generations, obsessed with blood purity while stabbing each other in the back. You’re the disgrace, Cassius, sitting there in your portrait, blind to the ruin you’ve wrought.”

Cassius’ lip curled, his composure faltering. “The family’s honor— ”

“Honor?” Sirius’s laugh was a jagged, bitter thing, reverberating off the stone walls. “Where’s the honor in disowning your own kin? My mother scorched me off that tapestry for refusing Voldemort’s leash. My brother, Regulus, died chasing your twisted ideals. And for what? Some fantasy of supremacy that’s left us fractured and despised by all the other families?”

He waved his wand, and Black Family’s tapestry sprang to life before them all, its blackened threads a testament to the family’s cruelty. Memories surged— his mother’s shrieks as she cursed him, Regulus’s quiet despair before he vanished into the Dark Lord’s shadow. The pain fueled his words, each one a spark in the growing blaze of his anger.

“That’s what the Most Honorable and Noble family of Black does: erase anyone who dares to think differently. That’s not honor— it’s tyranny.”

Cassius’ gaze flicked to the tapestry, a frown creasing his brow. “Tradition dictates— ”

“Tradition be damned.” Sirius snapped, tearing the tapestry apart with a slash of his wand. “Tradition doesn’t excuse betrayal. True family means standing by those you choose, not blindly clinging to blood ties. Harry and Adam— they’re my family, more than any Black ever was.”

Cassius’ sneer returned, though it wavered. “A Potter and a mudblood? You’ve fallen far, Sirius Black.”

“Fallen?” Sirius stopped, his eyes locking onto Cassius with fierce intensity. “I’ve risen above the muck. You’re trapped in a dead past, while I’ve lived the fallout of your precious purity— division, hatred, death. Magic isn’t about blood, Cassius. It’s about heart, courage, love and power. That’s what makes a wizard, not some accident of birth.”

Silence fell, thick and charged, as Cassius studied him.

Then, unexpectedly, he leaned forward, his voice low. “Elaborate.”

Sirius seized the opening, his passion spilling over. “You want details? Fine. The Blacks have torn themselves apart for centuries. Ancestors who disowned their children for marrying muggle-borns, cousins who hexed each other over petty slights, uncles who sold out their own to climb the ranks. My own mother would’ve rather seen me dead than free to break from our tradition. And Regulus— he was just a boy, swallowed by this ideology until it killed him— friendless and alone. That’s the summation of our legacy: ruin, betrayal, indignity and misery.”

He took a breath, his voice steadying. “But me? I chose differently. I chose James, Remus, Lily— people who stood by me. And now Harry and Adam, who fight for what’s right, not what’s pure. That’s family.”

Cassius was quiet, his painted hands resting on the arms of his chair. When he spoke, his tone had shifted, softer, almost reluctant. “I care little for muggles, Sirius Black. But… I’ll grant you this: Blacks harming Blacks is a stain I cannot abide. I had a brother once. He wed a muggle-born, and the family cast him out. He died alone, shunned. I mourned my brother, the boy he was.”

Sirius nodded, his anger easing a fraction. “Then you see it. That’s where we went wrong— not in mixing blood, but in breaking bonds.”

A tense understanding settled between them, not warmth, but a mutual recognition— of shared lineage, of flaws laid bare. Cassius’ prejudices lingered, but a crack had formed, a grudging respect for Sirius’s fire.

“And speaking of bonds.” Sirius said, turning to Harry, who lingered near the door, his green eyes wary. “This is Harry Potter, my godson. He’s a Black too, through his grandmother, Dorea Black.”

Cassius’ eyes widened, and he studied Harry anew, tracing the sharp lines of his face. “Yes… I can see it now. So, the boy carries our blood.”

Harry shifted, uncomfortable under the scrutiny, but Sirius clapped a hand on his shoulder. “He’s got the best of both worlds— Potter courage, Black strength, none of the madness.”

Cassius chuckled, a dry, rustling sound. “We shall see.”

Sirius smirked, though his gaze remained sharp. “Yeah, we will.”

Cassius Black’s piercing gaze shifted from Sirius to Adam, his eyes narrowing as if trying to peel back the layers of the boy standing before him.

“And this one? I presume he is not a relative— he admitted to his impurity.” He said.

Sirius stepped forward, his hand resting protectively on Adam’s shoulder. “This is Adam Clarke. He’s the one who helped free me from Azkaban.”

Cassius’ brow arched, a flicker of interest breaking through his stony demeanor.

“Azkaban.” He murmured, his tone darkening. “A place I know all too well.”

Adam’s curiosity flared, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. “You were in Azkaban too? What happened?”

Cassius’ expression hardened, shadows of old pain crossing his painted face.

“I sought to destroy the Dementors— to rid the world of their foul, soul-sucking presence. I came close, closer than any before me. But my so-called allies turned on me, left me to the mercy of those creatures.” His voice dropped to a bitter whisper. “Betrayal is a blade that cuts deepest when wielded by allies.”

Adam leaned forward, his eyes wide with intrigue. “Is it possible, then? Can Dementors truly be killed?”

Cassius’ gaze sharpened, his voice turning icy. “That knowledge is not for you, Mudblood. Do not overstep your bounds.”

“Oh, I’ll overstep them.” Adam promised, mismatched eyes wide with a hint of something that unsettled Sirius. “There is nothing in this world that I can’t learn— and master.”

“…Hm. Those eyes— you’ve seent the Abyss, then?” Cassius said.

“I have.”

“Then, perhaps you are more capable than most.”

“Thank you for the compliment.”

“You presume much, Mudblood.”

A scoff. “I always do.”

A laugh followed.

The Abyss? Sirius thought, but didn’t have the time to say something when Cassius’ attention shifted to Harry, his tone softening ever so slightly. “You, Harry Potter, possess Ancient Magic, do you not?”

Harry nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yes, I do.”

Ancient Magic? What…? Sirius thought, getting progressively confused. What in the bloody hell is going on?

Did he even know the two boys before him? Secret after secret after secret…

A thin smile curled Cassius’ lips. “Ancient Magic is a rare and powerful force, one that built Hogwarts and many other wonders. It is tied to the very pulse of the Earth itself, a rhythm that sustains all magic.”

Harry’s eyes lit up with interest, his weariness momentarily eclipsed by curiosity. “The Earth’s pulse? What is that?”

Cassius’ voice took on a lecturing tone, as if addressing a student. “It is the heartbeat of the planet, the natural flow of energy that binds all living things. Ancient Magic taps into that flow, allowing wizards to perform feats beyond ordinary spellwork— feats that shape the world itself.”

Sirius watched Harry’s growing fascination with a mix of pride and wariness. As if sensing Sirius’s thoughts, Cassius’ gaze flicked back to him.

“But the Earth’s pulse has been disrupted.” He said, his voice grave. “Far to the west, the energy flows erratically, twisted by forces I cannot yet discern.”

Sirius’s heart skipped a beat, his old worries fading as new ones gripped him. “What kind of disruption? What’s causing it?”

Cassius shook his head, his expression unreadable. “That, I do not know. But it is tied to the flow of destiny itself. Something is altering the course of the future, and if it is not stopped, the consequences will be catastrophic.”

“Destiny—” Adam, who had been silent, suddenly spoke up, his voice steady. “The threads of destiny. You can you see them?”

Cassius’ eyes moved to Adam. “You grow more interesting by the second, Mudblood. You’re able to discern the individual strings, then?”

Adam shrugged, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips as he pointed to his milky white eye. “I can see them from time to time; I’ve had some time to learn.”

Sirius stared at Adam, his unease deepening into something sharper— suspicion. This was new, and it raised more questions than answers. What else did Adam know? And who had taught him to see these threads?

Cassius chuckled, though there was no warmth in the sound. “A Mudblood with the sight. How amusing.”

“Glad you think so.”

Sirius shot a warning glance at Adam, but the boy merely shrugged, unfazed by the insult. His nonchalance only heightened Sirius’s concern— what was Adam hiding, and why?

Cassius returned his attention to Harry, his tone growing more urgent. “Your Ancient Magic will be crucial in addressing this threat, Harry Potter. And perhaps your friend’s sight as well, unlikely as it seems.”

Sirius felt a surge of protectiveness, his voice sharp. “What exactly are you proposing, Cassius?”

Cassius Black’s voice filled the chamber with a heavy resonance, as if the words themselves pressed against the air.

“As I said, the known world’s energy has been disrupted.” He said solemnly. “Its flow is erratic, twisted by forces far to the west, in the wildlands.”

Adam, who had been watching in silence, broke in. “The wildlands? You mean the Americas?”

Cassius’ brow furrowed, a flicker of bewilderment in his eyes. “The Americas? I know no such place.”

Adam paused, catching his error. “It’s a continent across the ocean, discovered long after your time. There are wizards there too— native ones, with their own magic.”

Cassius’ face hardened, a blend of scorn and intrigue in his tone. “Is that what it is called now? A barbaric name for a barbaric land; and wizards there? How curious.”

Ignoring the words, Adam pressed forward. “There was an attack there; a massive ritual that unleashed tremendous power. That must be what’s causing this.”

Cassius leaned in, his curiosity sharpening. “A ritual, you say? By any chance, do you know if there have been any disturbances beforehand?”

“No, I don’t…” Adam answered. “But, a ritual of this level? I’d guess maybe seven or nine.”

“Seven, I would say.” Cassius nodded, his gaze drifting as if tracing unseen patterns. “Yes, I sensed such smaller events— seven ripples in the Earth’s pulse, each one more potent than the last. But it’s more than energy; the very flow of destiny has shifted.”

Adam brushed off the unsettled look on his face. “Can you show us where the threat’s coming from?”

With a wave of Cassius’ hand, the floor shimmered and turned glass-like, revealing the Earth’s energy below— a sprawling web of glowing lines, pulsing steadily at first. Then, as they watched, the lines twisted into chaotic loops, the harmony unraveling.

“See how it distorts.” Cassius murmured, his voice dark. “The energy is being drained, redirected. If this persists, expect storms, earthquakes, magical disasters beyond comprehension.”

“A geo-storm?” Adam said, eyes widening.

“I’m not familiar with the term, but I take your meaning— yes, the planet’s energy will retaliate and cause these ‘geo-storms’, indeed.”

Sirius’s heart thudded, a chill sinking into him. He glanced at Harry, who stood stiffly, his face drained of color as he stared at the shifting chaos below. Adam, though, seemed almost mesmerized, his eyes following the tangled lines with an eerie focus that rattled Sirius.

“How do we stop it?” Sirius demanded, urgency roughening his voice.

Cassius shook his head grimly. “I cannot say. The source eludes me, but Britain lies at its core. Something pivotal will happen here soon.”

Harry’s voice broke the tension, shaky but resolute. “What are we supposed to do?”

Cassius’ gaze softened as it settled on Harry. “Your Ancient Magic will be vital, Harry Potter. It’s bound to the Earth’s pulse— through it, you might repair what’s been torn.”

He hesitated, then added. “And your friend’s sight may matter too. The threads of destiny are rare to perceive, and those who can often shape what’s to come.”

Sirius blinked, caught off guard by Cassius’ grudging acknowledgment. He looked at Adam, who gave him a slight nod, as if to say they’d speak of this later. The action stirred both dread and curiosity in Sirius.

“Stay sharp. The world teeters on the edge, and you must be ready.” Cassius’ voice turned a little softer as he turned to Harry. “I will teach you the ways of Ancient Magic, Harry Potter. Your power is untamed, but with my guidance, it could reshape the very world.”

Harry’s eyes widened, a storm of awe and uncertainty brewing within them.

“Thank you.” He replied, his voice steady despite the magnitude of the promise.

Cassius’ gaze shifted to Adam, his expression hardening into a sneer. “Though you have impressed me, Mudbloods are still beneath my consideration. I have nothing for you.”

Adam’s lips twitched into a sardonic smile, sharp and fleeting. “That’s alright. I’ve got my own teacher— and a plan.”

Sirius’s head whipped toward Adam, his brows furrowing in surprise. “A plan? What are you talking about?”

The confidence in Adam’s smile wavered, replaced by a sheepish grimace. “I’m… still figuring it out. Too many working parts.”

Sirius’s tone sharpened, edged with exasperation. “Figuring it out? That’s not enough, Adam. Not anymore.”

Adam shifted uncomfortably, his hands twisting together. “It’s not like that. I’m working on something— it’s just not ready yet.”

Sirius’s frustration bubbled beneath the surface, but he paused, glancing at Harry. The boy’s quiet concern for Adam was palpable, his loyalty a steady anchor. It softened Sirius’s edge, though the sting of Adam’s secrecy lingered— a fraying thread in their tenuous unity.

Cassius’ voice sliced through the tension. “The fate of the world rests on you both, whether I approve or not. Do not waste this.”

Sirius gave a terse nod, his mind a whirl of thoughts. He placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder, guiding him and Adam toward the exit.

“Let’s go.” He said, his voice firmer now. “We’ve got plenty to sort through.”

“Can we do it after lunch?” Adam asked.

“I… Yes, fine.”

Just what have I gotten myself into?