Orion was looking through some of the Black family account books when he received a letter from his aunt, Cassiopeia.
She was, unsurprisingly, not very happy about the comment he had made regarding Walburga not giving birth to Sirius and Regulus.
There were countless letters arriving from every direction regarding his sons' heritage, and Irma Black seemed to be leading the charge. Every single one of them remembered Walburga giving birth to the boys, including Walburga herself.
The Blacks were not ignorant people.
One single comment from him, and they had all begun digging into the events that had supposedly occurred. Every one of them had reached the same peculiar conclusion—that their memories had been tampered with.
But memory tampering on such a massive scale?
Not only the Blacks, but even the magical community around them seemed to possess the exact same memories, confusing a great many people.
It wasn't that Orion didn't want to give them answers.
It was simply that he had no idea how to answer them when he himself didn't know what had happened or how any of this had come to pass.
It had taken him a long time to break this so-called illusion—if it could even be called an illusion in the first place.
Then came finding a way to break the curse.
He had suffered for three long years as retribution, and that suffering had damaged his soul deeply enough that recovering his mind had taken far longer than he would have liked.
Now, however, everything was finally falling back into place.
Everything was beginning to move in his favour.
He was in absolutely no mood to entertain the endless questions and requests coming from his family.
First and foremost, he had to bring back his wife... and her sister.
After that, he needed to eliminate every enemy of the House of Black.
It seemed people had started believing that the Blacks had become vegetarians, and now every hyena wanted a share of the family's fortune.
That was not going to happen.
Not while he was the Lord of House Black.
Once his wife and her sister returned...
The games were about to begin.
***********
Abarax had come to a rather agreeable arrangement with Igor Karkaroff.
Even though he would have preferred it if Igor had shown a lot more resistance—and if there had been many more people protecting him. That would have made for a much bigger and far more enjoyable fight.
Still, it had allowed him to vent some of the pent-up frustration and anger he had been carrying for so long.
Back at Malfoy Manor, he was going through some of the family's old records, searching for anything that might help Orion in breaking the curse, when a summons from the Council arrived.
Lord Malfoy,
We hope this letter finds you in good health and prosperity.
The Council has reached the decision that, now that the Neutral Faction has grown to a considerable size, it shall officially be granted a representative.
As is customary, a duelling tournament shall be held to determine which faction will lead the Magical Community of Britain and to decide the number of seats allocated to each faction within the Council.
Traditionally, this contest has been held solely between the Light and the Dark factions. However, with the recent expansion of the Neutral Faction, it shall now receive additional seats beyond the default allocation.
Since you currently serve as the de facto speaker of the Neutral Faction, we request your presence at the Council Hall to determine the champions who shall represent your faction, as well as to discuss the appointment of the remaining positions within its leadership.
We eagerly await your presence.
Yours faithfully,
The Council
Abarax read the letter once before setting it down on the table.
"So..." he murmured to himself, a slow smile spreading across his face.
"It seems the old vultures have finally acknowledged the Neutral Faction."
He leaned back comfortably in his chair, fingers tapping rhythmically against the polished wood of the desk.
"A duelling tournament..." he mused. "How very primitive."
Though, if he was being honest, it was also rather entertaining.
The political landscape of Britain was finally beginning to shift.
For decades it had always been Light against Dark.
Now...
There was a third player on the board.
And Abarax Malfoy had every intention of ensuring that this new faction did not merely survive—
It would dominate.
********
Tom Riddle was not someone who appreciated losing control of a situation.
He possessed an extraordinary ability to read people, often without even needing to delve into their minds. So, when the Death Eater meeting was held, it did not take him long to notice that many of his followers were beginning to question his decisions.
That would not do.
No matter how powerful he was, he still needed followers willing to do the groundwork while he pursued his greater ambitions.
Igor Karkaroff had always been one of his favourite followers. Sharp, resourceful, and dependable, Igor had consistently produced results.
"So tell me, Igor," Tom began calmly, "how has the Slavic magical community reacted to our cause? How many are willing to stand behind us?"
"Well, my Lord..."
It lasted only a fraction of a second.
That brief hesitation before calling him my Lord was enough.
Usually Igor addressed him with unwavering devotion. His followers did not follow him through fear alone. Tom had spent years manipulating the noble families, weaving loyalty alongside fear until they willingly served him.
Something had changed.
Igor Karkaroff was not a fool. As Lord of House Karkaroff, he had survived because he knew how to read the political tides better than most. That was both his greatest strength and his greatest weakness.
He could always predict which side was likely to prevail.
But that same intelligence also made him dangerous. Intelligent men noticed patterns. They asked questions.
Questions made people liabilities.
Which was precisely why Tom had always preferred to keep Igor close.
"There are a few noble families," Igor answered carefully, "who believe your cause may be beneficial. However, the majority remain wary, my Lord. They do not wish to see another war while our community is still recovering from the last one."
He paused before continuing.
"I believe we should alter our approach when dealing with them."
Tom looked directly into Igor's eyes.
His crimson gaze gleamed with something almost inhuman.
Igor could see the monster lurking just beneath the surface.
Yet...
Compared to Abarax Malfoy and whatever beast lay hidden beneath his carefully crafted smile...
Igor was not ashamed to admit—even if only to himself—that he feared Malfoy far more than he feared Voldemort.
Still, he met Tom's gaze without looking away.
"Then draft me this new plan, Igor," Tom replied softly.
"I trust that this time you shall bring me results rather than excuses."
His smile never reached his eyes.
"There will be consequences otherwise."
After all...
"What use are you to me if you cease being useful?"
Igor lowered his head.
"Yes, my Lord."
"You may leave."
Without another word, Igor stepped back into the line of Death Eaters while Tom turned his attention towards the others gathered before him.
"Carrow."
The man immediately straightened.
"My Lord."
"You see Karkaroff, do you not?" Tom asked.
"He still possesses enough influence within the Slavic magical community to shift the balance if he truly wished."
His crimson eyes narrowed.
"Now tell me..."
"Are you equally committed?"
"My Lord, I—"
"Enough."
Tom's voice echoed through the chamber like thunder.
"No."
"Britain is my home."
"I expect my own people to support my cause."
His magic rolled through the room like a crushing wave.
Every Death Eater instinctively lowered their heads as the Dark Mark upon their forearms burned with agonising intensity.
"I will not be defeated in my own land."
Silence answered him.
He slowly looked across every one of his followers.
"It is about time I reclaimed what should already be mine."
"Do you not agree?"
"The Dark Faction shall have a new leader."
"No longer shall it bow to Malfoy."
"No longer shall it answer to Black."
A cold smile spread across his face.
"This time..."
"Lord Slytherin shall lead the Dark Faction."
"And together..."
"We shall reclaim control of the Council."
"We shall restore the magical community to its rightful glory."