Right on the threshold, I noticed a radical change. Kreacher had obviously gone into overdrive, because there was no trace of dust or musty rot left in the entrance hall. The bizarre troll-leg umbrella stand had also vanished, and although the hallway was still dimly lit, it felt pleasantly intimate rather than like something out of a horror film.
After a few steps through the hall, the portrait of Walburga Black came to life. Unexpectedly, she gave me a silent bow with a cold but dignified look. There was no contempt in it—she simply showed me respect and recognized me as an equal pure-blood wizard. I returned her nod with cool composure and kept walking. At the junction between the staircase, the drawing room, and the kitchen, I paused for a moment.
The clinking of cutlery echoed from the dining room. They were clearly sitting down to a late lunch, so I walked straight in without hesitation. Right in the doorway, a massive surprise awaited me. Kreacher had truly outdone himself.
The long dining table was set for a truly royal feast, easily rivaling the ones back at our castle. Platters piled high with food sat everywhere—juicy roasted meat, golden-brown potatoes, steamed vegetables, fragrant sauces, baked fish, bowls of fresh salads, a selection of exclusive cheeses, homemade pâtés, fresh loaves of bread, and baskets full of pastries. There was no shortage of richly decorated desserts, fruit pies, and bowls of fresh fruit.
Sitting at the table was an absolutely content Sirius Black. There was no trace of our wild night out on him, although his mouth was currently stuffed with food, making his puffed-up cheeks look exactly like a Djungarian hamster. The moment he spotted me, he tried to open his mouth, but instead of a greeting, only an unintelligible "Rwwwooier" came out.
Right next to him sat Potter. I noticed he had finally replaced those old, round, perpetually taped-together glasses of his. He had replaced them with a modern, rectangular shape with a thicker frame, which suited him well and gave him a much more serious, mature look. He immediately waved at me with a smile: "Hi, Patrik!"
"Potter, Black, morning," I greeted them with absolute calm.
Snape would definitely appreciate the change in glasses, flashed through my mind as I casually sat down at their table.
Sirius finally swallowed the massive mouthful, losing his rodent-like look, and reached for a glass. "Morning, Rosier." He gave me a searching look for a brief moment, but then simply waved his hand and nodded toward the lavishly spread table: "Help yourself. After our night out yesterday, you need a proper meal... Kreacher has mysteriously changed since your visit, do you know anything about that?" A distant, nostalgic look appeared on his face for a second. "The last time we had a feast like this here was with Regulus, back when we were still young."
"Thanks, I will," I accepted with a smile. "I just had a little chat with Kreacher. I found it rather strange that a family with the motto Toujours Pur would live in such squalor. Apparently, that argument did the trick."
"Seeing how Sirius came to life after last night, I think I'll join you next time," Potter chimed into the conversation with an amused smirk. "It must have been quite something."
"Well, after all these years, the right key finally ended up in the right lock," I returned his amused smirk with a subtle double entendre. "That instantly brings a man back to life."
"Rosier, don't corrupt my godson," Sirius scowled at me, but the corner of his mouth twitched with visible amusement, so he quickly shoved another piece of meat with some sort of white sauce into his mouth.
"Oh, come on, Black. The sooner the boy learns how things work, the better for him," I shrugged nonchalantly. "Did you end up taking that taxi after Vespera dragged me away?" I asked curiously.
"Yeah, absolutely no problem," he nodded as soon as he swallowed again. "Thanks for the money. Alone and wandless, I probably wouldn't have found my way home in that state," he added with a smirk.
"No problem," I nodded. "And what about you, Potter? When did you get back?"
"About two hours ago," he answered, taking a sip from a goblet filled with orange juice. "By the way... you could start calling me by my first name. We know each other, and besides, you're in our home."
In that exact second, Sirius's amused smirk vanished. His grey, piercing eyes narrowed, scanning me intently and coldly. It was clear that, in his mind, he was rapidly reassessing the situation, analyzing whether I was a true friend to his godson or just a dangerous enemy wearing the mask of an accomplice.
"Well, well. The situation between us is a bit more complicated than that," I replied calmly.
I took a clean plate and, with absolute composure, began serving myself juicy chicken pieces in cream sauce and a few scoops of rice. While Potter waited curiously for a further explanation, Black was far more guarded. I casually stirred the sauce into the rice with my cutlery and continued talking.
"My father, as you both surely know, is a Death Eater locked up in Azkaban." I lifted a piece of meat and rice onto my fork and ate it with relish. It was truly delicious. Sirius, however, was starting to look increasingly impatient, so after swallowing, I continued: "You both undoubtedly know that Voldemort is returning. In a few years, he will unquestionably be back and at the height of his power. I have no intention of bowing to him, but at the same time, I have no intention of fighting him either," I admitted flatly.
"So what? You'll just ignore the whole of England tearing itself apart in war? You don't care that Muggles will be nothing but prey to them?" Sirius asked, a clear edge of derision in his voice. "That's pretty cowardly," he added after a moment of heavy silence.
I continued chewing my late lunch, but after a moment, I just shrugged indifferently.
"I'm twelve years old, Sirius. It's not my responsibility to defeat some global evil... Voldemort will die one day anyway, whether by your hand, Potter, or simply of old age," I nodded toward Harry and then shifted my gaze back to his godfather. "My father will probably follow him faithfully, but honestly—as a pure-blood wizard, I am highly unlikely to face any serious threat from Voldemort."
"Every single child of Death Eaters was eventually forced to follow him. Just like my own brother, Regulus. You lost any chance of neutrality the second your father bowed to him," Black stated sharply.
"That may be true," I conceded coldly. "But perhaps Voldemort will respect the fact that I'm still a student at Hogwarts. And perhaps, before I even graduate, someone else will have taken care of him in the meantime." I meaningfully shot a glance at Potter and gave Sirius a subtle smile. "Too much familiarity with the chosen hero at this point might only mean the Dark Lord tries to drag me into the conflict by force and use me against him," I shrugged. "So neutrality sounds quite sensible to me."
Sirius let out a barking, unbelieving laugh. Potter quietly went back to drinking his juice, and I continued to enjoy my food with absolute composure, completely ignoring Black's obvious mockery.
"And when that bastard comes to you in person one day and tells you that you're either with him or against him?" Sirius sneered mockingly.
"Then I will, of course, be against him," I shot back instantly, without a second of hesitation. "I don't plan on ever bowing to anyone."
"See, Harry?" Sirius smiled at his godson with a touch of grim, gallows humor. "Patrik Rosier here will end up being our ally after all, whether he likes it or not."
Immediately after, Sirius turned back to me. That dangerous, wild glint appeared in his grey eyes, the kind members of the Black family got right before doing something unpredictably stupid. It hit me instantly that some absolute bullshit was about to fly out of his mouth.
"And what about your mother, Rosier?" he smirked, pure provocation in his voice. "Is she rotting in Azkaban in the cell next to your old man, Evan?"
"Do you mean Bellatrix?" I asked, completely unbothered, as I picked up another bite on my fork.
Sirius gave a sharp nod. His provocative smirk widened even further as he awaited my reaction with intense curiosity.
"Who's Bellatrix?" Potter asked, looking confused.
"My dear cousin and currently probably Lord Voldemort's most loyal right hand," Sirius replied with a sardonic smile, never taking his eyes off me for a second. "She's an utterly insane, sadistic bitch. Currently, thank Merlin, locked up in the maximum-security ward of Azkaban. She has more lives on her conscience than half the Death Eaters combined—Aurors, ordinary wizards, not to mention Muggles."
I calmly went on eating, but raised a left eyebrow at him for a moment. Sirius immediately took it as my unspoken question and began, with immense satisfaction, to explain his train of thought.
"From the start, it made no sense to me how you could just march in here. Kreacher had clear, strict orders not to open the door to anyone but me and Harry without my prior knowledge. And although I was pretty drunk yesterday, Rosier, I'm not blind. I see your facial features. You're undoubtedly a Rosier, no question about that, but you also have our features... Black family features. So I started piecing it together. Cissy might be a stuck-up aristocratic cow, but she has genuinely loved Malfoy since Hogwarts. Andromeda, as we all know, ran away from the family to marry Muggle-born Ted Tonks, so she certainly wouldn't have had anything to do with a Rosier." He paused for a brief moment, swallowed, and continued his deduction with growing triumph: "The only one who logically fits is Bellatrix. By Merlin's sweaty balls, we all knew damn well she wasn't faithful to Rodolphus Lestrange even before they were engaged. She loved only the Dark Lord... But it makes total sense that she would satisfy herself with your old man every now and then. Evan Rosier was an elite Death Eater back then and quite a fine specimen of a man. That crazy bitch might have had a certain twisted admiration for him."
"You're quite the Sherlock Holmes," I agreed with an amused smile. "But I have to disappoint you—while my mother was indeed of your bloodline, she wasn't Bellatrix."
I could see his mental gears turning, but then he shook his head in disagreement.
"No other woman could possibly be your mother," he declared firmly after a moment.
"Bellatrix had a twin," I shrugged; it was no great secret to me.
"Whom old Cygnus killed the moment he found out she was a Squib," he countered disapprovingly.
"Evidently not, since a ghost didn't give birth to me," I smirked at him and took another bite. "Mmm, Kreacher really went all out."
The smile faded from Sirius's face, and he watched me seriously, while Potter wore an amused grin, watching us like a tennis match. So, I began to explain calmly.
"Druella Rosier Black wasn't as insane as Grandfather Cygnus. She was a Rosier, after all... so she asked her brother to take in the Squib. So instead of dying, she was safe in our castle... and somehow or other, they supposedly fell in love, she and my old man... and voilà, Patrik Rosier was born."
"And what actually happened to Carina?" Sirius asked after a moment, a soft, slightly sad smile on his face. "Witches don't usually die in childbirth, after all."
"Why do you care? Did you have some close relationship with my mother?"
"I just remember that of all my cousins, she was the sweetest... but no, we weren't particularly close," Sirius shook his head. "Andromeda and Narcissa took her murder—or rather, her sudden disappearance—quite seriously back then. But Bellatrix? It completely broke her. Rumors still circulate in pure-blood circles that she was the one who murdered old Cygnus, because she blamed him for her death."
Twins share a deep magical bond, flashed through my mind. The question remains whether Bellatrix genuinely loved her despite Carina being a Squib... But I'll probably only find that out when I meet her face-to-face.
"Your acquaintance, Alastor Moody, killed her," I replied with absolute coldness and matter-of-factness. "But enough of the past. I didn't come here to drag up old family skeletons."
Sirius went still at my words. His forearm tensed against the table, his hand tightening out of sight beneath it. He stared at me for a moment too long, jaw tightening as disbelief flickered across his face before he forced it down.
"So why did you actually come?" Sirius broke the dead silence after a moment. His voice was suddenly dead serious.
"To eat, talk a bit, get to know my family, learn something of our ancestral heritage, completely raid your library... take your pick," I answered with a casual smirk.
To my surprise, however, Sirius did not find my tone amusing. The smile did not return to his face; he only nodded understandingly.
"I'll gladly let you into the library right now if you want, but honestly—there's nothing particularly special in there," he stated calmly. "What every ambitious wizard desires is our true ancestral heritage. And I have no problem sharing it with you. But I'm afraid, Rosier, that you probably won't be very satisfied."
"Why do you say that?" I asked, raising an eyebrow curiously.
"Because what made the House of Black historically the most dangerous magical family in Britain was a single, exceptionally bloody spell," Sirius replied with absolute seriousness and launched into his explanation. "We Blacks have always been genetically a bit more powerful, that's true... but not so significantly compared to other ancient houses. What shifted the entire balance of power was this one spell. For a very simple reason: it is far less demanding magically than any other killing curses, yet it possesses the same, if not an even more devastating, power. The target meets an immediate, bloody, and extremely painful end, yet it only costs you a fraction of your magical energy."
I almost stopped breathing with intrigue. Sirius continued:
"Every Black who mastered this spell in the past seemed like an invincible monster in battle, with a nearly inexhaustible magical core. Opponents had no real idea how little energy you were using. And combined with that bloody, brutal death, it had such a terrifying psychological effect on enemies that they tended to surrender much faster."
"That sounds practically perfect," I nodded with a predatory smile, but immediately sensed a catch. "So where's the catch?"
"Not in its difficulty," Sirius said with a grim smile. "As you can imagine, for our family, it was an absolute game-changer. And that is exactly why, ever since the time of the family's founder, every Black who was taught the spell has been bound by ancient, Unbreakable Family Vow. To make it impossible for any outsider to steal or replicate it, a Black can only ever use it non-verbally in combat. I technically know it myself, but I can only cast it verbally. Consequently, it's completely useless to me in a real duel. Magic simply won't let me speak it aloud."
"And what about the family grimoire?" occurred to me next. "Couldn't the spell simply be learned directly from it without being bound by some unbreakable vow?"
"No," Sirius smirked, amused by my youthful attempt to bypass the system. "Right on the very first page of the grimoire, the unbreakable vow itself is magically woven in. The family magic simply won't let you turn the page to the actual content until you take it."
"Our family was certainly paranoid," I returned his smirk. "But I'd still like to learn the spell. Maybe with time and practice, I can manage to get it to a non-verbal level after all."
Sirius let out a soft, amused chuckle, shaking his head. "You're welcome to try, kid, but you're chasing ghosts. I spent years trying to master it, and look at me—still nothing. But hey, I actually still owe you for Azkaban," he nodded with a dismissive shrug. "I'll copy the exact wording of the vow from the grimoire for you, set up a safe room in the house for practice, and let you know when we can start."
"Can I learn it too?" Potter joined the conversation, a curious excitement flashing in his eyes behind his new glasses.
"No, kid, you can't," Sirius replied, his tone softening though remaining firm. "I would love to pass it on to you, Harry, but you don't have a single drop of Black blood in you. The unbreakable vow physically prevents me. But don't worry, I can teach you a whole host of other, extremely interesting curses instead," he added with an encouraging smile toward his godson.
"And the library? What do you mean by there being nothing special in it?" I asked, curiosity in my voice.
"Well, there's a huge number of books, of course. From history to all kinds of magical branches to the darkest Dark Arts," Sirius shrugged casually. "You'll find plenty of lethal curses with the most repulsive effects, but honestly, I think you have most of those at Rosier Castle too. The most important secret is always hidden in the grimoire. The only thing I can think of that might be a bit more special for you are the old battle journals, tactics, and dueling techniques... refined by our ancestors over centuries." Sirius paused for a moment and added, "But who knows. Maybe you'll find something in there yourself that you consider unique."
"That makes sense," I nodded in agreement. "I'm in no hurry, so I'll come have a look in the next few days. So will you let me know when you have everything ready for the spell?"
"Yeah, I'll let you know," Sirius nodded with straightforward fairness.
"Thanks for the lunch," I said, slowly rising from my chair.
I was perfectly full, and the outcome of our conversation pleased me just as much. If that bloody spell was truly so efficient with magical energy, it would be a thousand times better in battle than Reducto—which I still struggled with—albeit probably much louder, more brutal, and bloodier. I was already looking forward to it.
"Can I use the Floo?" I turned to him, gesturing toward the massive fireplace in the kitchen.
"You may," Sirius replied quite calmly.
"Bye, Patrik!" Potter waved as I left, an honest, friendly smile on his face.
"See you," I called back with a casual smirk, a second before the wild green flames of the fireplace completely consumed me.
While everything spun wildly around me in the chaotic vortex of Floo travel, a single thought echoed in my mind: Sirius is absolutely sure that the spell will be useless to me because I won't be able to put it to practical use.
I couldn't wait for the day I'd perform the exact opposite, non-verbally, right in front of his eyes.
***
Author's note:
A bit of politics, some deep-seated family drama, and a glimpse into a very dangerous magical legacy. Are you curious about the Black family spell? I've been building toward it since the very beginning of this story.
***
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The shadows are shifting, and the story goes much deeper... If you can't wait for the next update, Advanced Chapters are already waiting for you.
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Upcoming Chapters – Already Written(16):
82. The Frequency of Intent
83. Of Blood and Thorns
84. Thorns, Wards, and Sly Foxes
85. As Peaceful and Civilized as Always
86. The Twin in the Shadows
87. Their Addiction, Our Profit
88. Fake Smiles and Sharp Instincts
89. The Path to Invincibility
90. AD: Piña Coladas and Rainbow Thongs
91. Blood Traitors
92. Before the Storm
93. Arania Exumai
94. Favors and Frustrations
95. Power and Glory
96. Morning Drills and Slytherin Deals
97. Thrill of the Fight
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