Chapter 43
ARCTURUS BLACK
Arcturus was a hard man, one who was not prone to bouts of rage and anger like his own father. No, he was a man hardened by war and conflict, and yet for the first time, he desired to be a man full of rage. He wished to be a man of impulse, for if so he would not have wasted a second before putting down his son.
Sometimes he wondered what sin he had committed that the Gods had given him a cur like that as a son. Arcturus held no sympathy for mudbloods, yet he was a man deeply loyal to his own blood.
Even during the last war, when prejudice and bigotry had been at their peak, many had tried to stir him up when his own sister had married a man like Charlus Potter. Yet despite the troubles and the humiliations this marriage had caused him, he had never thought ill of Dorea, and to this day she remained a Black in his heart.
Yet Cygnus and his daughter had turned against their own blood. They had turned against a child. And there were a few sins that Arcturus could never forgive, and one of them was the murder of a child.
And in his eyes, his granddaughter was just that. A child. His child.
He had hoped that his own name would be enough to shield her from the repercussions of her actions, and no matter what he may have said, he had looked into the two boys Narcissa and Andromeda had chosen for themselves.
Mudbloods they may have been, but both of them were talented wizards with a bright future, and did indeed care deeply for their granddaughters. He would never have let them go had he found them lacking, and he had only given them his blessing, for he sympathised with their feelings, and yet he had underestimated the depravity of his own son.
He had underestimated his cruelty. And the consequences of it lay right in front of him.
~ATTACK AT THE HOGWARTS EXPRESS LEAVES ONE DEAD AND A DOZEN INJURED~
by Matt Duffer
On September 11, the Hogwarts Express departed from the station nine and three-quarters, carrying students filled with dreams and aspirations for a new year at Hogwarts, the premier institute of Magic of the British Isles.
Yet few knew that death awaited them on those tracks, as Voldemort and his followers chose to attack the train while it was on its way to Hogwarts. The attack led by the Dark Lord himself targeted the children with Muggle parents and those whose parents have defied him continuously.
It was a despicable act, and the students all fought valiantly to protect themselves, yet few could stand against the combined might of the Dark Lord's army, which has become even more powerful with the addition of werewolves and dementors.
The attack left many of the students injured, and resulted in the death of one female student by the name of 'Narcissa Black'....
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And there were a dozen articles surrounding the events of that damning day, and what had happened since then. The Minister had declared a State of Emergency, and now the Aurors were authorised to use the Unforgivables for the First Time since the war against Gellert Grindelwald.
They had suspended trials for all those believed to be a part of Riddle's army, and anyone bearing his mark would be sent straight to prison. Many called these tactics heavy-handed, yet even the greatest critic of such heavy-handed measures, Albus Dumbledore, had gone quiet.
And for good reason. Because the crime was simply too heinous.
"I ought to kill, and that daughter of yours right now," Arcturus snarled, and he could not bring himself to look at the sorry excuse of a son who stood in front of him. He did not look up from the Prophet lying at his desk, for he did not trust himself not to spill his own blood.
"Why?" and he had the audacity to ask that. That bastard.
"She was your daughter!" Arcturus snarled.
"YOUR DAUGHTER YOU BASTARD!" and he glanced up, and trembled with rage as he saw no remorse in those eyes.
"She was a traitor," Cygnus answered, and he wanted to kill him. He wanted to cut his throat, and yet the promise he made to his wife held him back.
"You are a bastard! A snivelling bastard!" But words were useless, for she was dead now, and he bore some of the blame for it as well, for he had given his children too free a hand.
But no more!
He would much rather see his House destroyed than to ever let it fall into the hands of curs like his ilk. It had taken him some time to sort out the entire matter, yet now he had.
"Bastard! You call me a bastard when it was you who let her run away with that mudblood," and he had the audacity to blame him.
"She loved him, you fool. You could have forgotten about her and never looked back, and yet you had to go and kill her! For what!" he snarled.
"Loving a boy!"
"HE WAS NO BOY! HE WAS A MUDBLOOD! AND SHE WAS ALREADY PROMISED TO SOMEONE ELSE!" and Arcturus felt as if his heart would burst with rage.
"I rid them of those shackles myself, you fool!" and Cygnus scoffed.
"That was nothing but paper! I had given the Dark Lord my word, and the Dark Lord does not take betrayal lightly," and to think that they were so drunk with his power that they had deluded themselves into forgetting his origins.
"He is no Dark Lord," and what kind of a man would target children? Even Grindelwald had not fallen so low as to target literal children, and yet that bastard Riddle had broken all the taboos of their society.
"He is no Dark Lord. He is a spineless cur, and you are no different than him," and with that, he picked up the folder that he had prepared and threw it in his face.
"What is that?" Cygnus asked.
"I will have no kinslayer as my son. From this day on, you and that ghastly daughter of yours shall no longer call yourselves as Blacks. I have removed you from the family itself, and neither you nor any descendants from you shall hold that name," and Cygnus paled at that.
But he was not done yet.
"And the same goes for your spinless brother and his harlot of a wife," and with that, he had destroyed the Black family.
"You cannot do this. You will destroy the family," and Arcturus scoffed.
"I care not," he retorted.
"I would much rather see the Blacks die out than let the family fall into your hands. You have a week to vacate the House since all of them are mine as the Family Head, and are meant to house Blacks, not snivelling bastards like you," and Cygnus was now a man without wealth and influence.
The bastard had never worked for a single day in his life, and now he would know exactly what his true worth was.
"Go and see how your Dark Lord treats you no..." and he had taken out his wand, as Arcturus raised a brow.
"I won't let you do this! I won't!"
"Do you really wish for me to test the wards on you, you fool," and they would crush him in an instant if he so desired.
"They will shred you to pieces," and with gritted teeth, he lowered the wand.
"NOW GO! LEAVE ME BEFORE I CHANGE MY MIND AND PUT YOU DOWN LIKE A DOG!"
"You will regret this! You will regret this!" and he would never. Yet with those Cygnus left, leaving him alone in his solar. Arcturus took a few moments to let his anger simmer out before he finally rose from his chair and walked out of his room.
Even before today, their home had always been quiet, and yet it had never had this chill as it did today, and he walked past his wife as he went to the floo.
"You are going," she asked, and Melania had paled, and her eyes were still swollen from the crying.
"I am," and the girl was to be buried today, though that was some hours ago.
"Let me come with you," and he shook his head, for he was not going to the burial. Not really.
"Not today," he answered, and she did not seek an explanation.
"I will take you there myself. Tomorrow?" and she did not object, and because of their decades of marriage, she had a pretty good inkling of what he was about to do.
"Ok..." and with that, he walked to the floo and picked up some powder.
"Ministry of Magic...."
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0000
ALDER EVANS
The funeral had ended hours ago, and the rain had now soaked his clothes fully. The white shirt had now become translucent, and blood had begun to seep out of some of his wounds once more, yet he did not care.
He cared not for the wounds on his body, nor for the scars that had now disfigured his face. Voldemort's magic was infused with such might that the Healers had cut out his skin and then regrow it, which left huge scars on it.
His entire face was now covered with scars, and yet he couldn't care less for it. He would take twice—thrice or even ten times the number of scars if only it meant that he could have her back.
Yet that was not possible, and it was all his fault. He had been the one to convince her to go to Hogwarts. She did not want to, and yet he had suggested the idea and made all the arrangements.
He should have predicted this. He should have, but he had not.
He had spared Bellatrix's life for her, and yet she had repaid kindness with murder. The war had now begun in full, and the first casualty of that war was the love of his life.
He felt the air behind him shift, before the sound of splatter hit his ears and a man came to stand beside him. He did not need to turn to know who it was, for he knew that he would come.
He had not seen him before, yet as he bent down to place a bouquet of flowers on the grave, he saw the side of his face and noticed the resemblance to Sirius.
"She was a kind soul," the old man whispered, and she was indeed.
"You think that this is your fault, and while others may try to convince you that it was not. I will tell you that it is your fault," and those words cut far deeper than his own self-loathing.
"You were weak. It was your job to protect her, and you failed in that," and he had failed. He had indeed.
"I will never forgive you for that," and he could only hang his head in shame.
"I won't forgive myself either," he finally answered, and Arcturus Black nodded.
"It won't matter, though. She will not come back. The dead tend to be stubborn like that," and Arcturus Black now finally turned his head to face him.
"But I ask you this? What will you do now, Alder Evans?" and the school was set to open in a day, and though more than half the students had been pulled out, the Headmaster remained adamant in continuing the school year.
The Ministry backed him in his resolve, and yet he could not return to those Halls. Not until Voldemort drew breath. Tom Riddle was a villain, one that could not be allowed to draw breath anymore, and Alder was going to make sure of that.
Not Dumbledore. Not the Ministry. Not the Aurors. Him.
"I am going to kill them all," and he did not lie to him.
"Riddle. Bellatrix. Malfoy. All of them," and his fists bled as his nails tore into his skin.
"I am going to tear them apart, or die trying...." and Arcturus Black did not say anything at first.
"Good. At least you are not entirely useless," and with that, he reached into his pocket and pushed a letter towards him,
"What is this?"
"Just take it," he said, and he pocketed it.
"The next time you come to this place. You either join my granddaughter in the ground, or you'd better have avenged her blood..." and with that, the Lord of House Black left, and he was alone once more.
Minutes turned into hours, and the clouds all vanished until the light of the Sun tore out the darkness, as a small hand shook him slightly.
"What?" and he finally woke from his trance, as he looked to the side and found Lily standing there.
"You have been here all night," and she was pale with worry as she uttered those words.
"Everyone's worried about you. It is time to come home," she prompted quietly, and he gave the name on the tombstone a final glance as he remembered the promise he had made to Arcturus.
~NARCISSA BLACK~
A soul too kind for a world too cruel.
And in that moment, he made a promise to her as well as he finally turned around with renewed resolve.
"I will be back...."
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