In an unnamed, shadowy mansion belonging to the Carrows, a long, dark table stretched the length of the room, its surface polished like glass. Flickering candles cast an eerie glow across the gathering, illuminating a series of cloaked figures seated before their lord. This was a time when the Dark Lord had only just begun his rise to power, and not all of the noble dark houses had yet pledged their allegiance.
Lord Voldemort's red eyes glittered with a dangerous light as he leaned forward, his gaze resting icily on the head of the Avery family, whose nervousness was palpable. Voldemort's fingers twitched, his grip on Avery's mind tightening with a subtle, terrifying ease.
"Tell me, Avery," Voldemort drawled, his voice as smooth as silk yet laced with venom, "if you were merely a classmate, a passing face in the corridors, why would you support someone's political stance?" His words dripped with disdain as he held Avery in his thrall.
Avery stammered, clearly struggling to form a coherent answer. "I-I don't know, my lord. I thought… I thought the Malfoys and the Blacks were rivals."
"So you *thought*, did you?" Voldemort's voice dropped, cold and sinister. "*Crucio!*"
Avery's body contorted as the curse hit him, his screams piercing the heavy silence of the room. Voldemort's expression remained impassive as he watched Avery writhe in pain, making no effort to raise his voice. His power was felt not in shouts or threats, but in his very presence, in the dark mark burning on each follower's arm, a searing reminder of his dominance.
"We are the Death Eaters, not some band of fools blundering about without a plan," Voldemort said quietly, releasing Avery from the spell. He turned his gaze to the rest of the gathering, who watched in silence, the dark mark tingling on their arms as a warning. "And what's more, it appears some think to insult me." He let his power speak, dark magic rippling through the room, each follower feeling its chilling pressure as if it were wrapping around their throats.
"Karkaroff," Voldemort said sharply, shifting his gaze. "Perhaps you can enlighten us. Tell me, what is it the Black family primarily deals in?"
Igor Karkaroff, seated a few chairs down, straightened at the address, eager to please. "My lord, the Black family deals mainly in information trade. They have powerful connections in France, where their origins lie, and a number of political ties. They command influence through their extensive networks, though their magic leans more towards what some call 'death magic.' The Blacks have connections with most of the noble houses, either through marriages or blood feuds, though their feuds are always short-lived… and they emerge as victors."
Voldemort allowed himself a small, cold smile. "You never disappoint, Karkaroff. But tell me, my dear Avery"—his gaze swung back to the pale, trembling man—"how is it that one from Europe knows more about Britain's own political structure than a man born and raised here?"
Avery attempted a response, but Voldemort's expression darkened as he cut him off with a flick of his wand. A wordless curse struck Avery, shattering the bones in his leg, the sickening crack filling the room as he fell to the floor, gasping in pain.
Voldemort looked away from Avery, dismissing him entirely. His gaze fell on Dolohov, his expression growing thoughtful. "So, Dolohov, what do you make of the Malfoys and Blacks aligning themselves with the neutral faction?"
Dolohov cleared his throat, his tone respectful and wary. "My lord, by shifting to the neutral faction, the Malfoys and Blacks have made it the most powerful faction in Britain. Traditionally ignored, the neutral faction has now become a refuge, attracting both dark and light families. It has no single leader but instead consists of families with strength in their own right. Those looking for shelter are like birds seeking refuge from the storm."
Voldemort nodded, his mind clearly working through Dolohov's words. Then Carrow spoke up, his tone sycophantic. "The Malfoys are known to be… very wealthy, my lord. Wealthy enough to buy even the Minister, some say. The neutral faction now holds immense power."
Voldemort tapped his fingers on the table, his gaze calculating. "So, it seems we cannot afford a direct confrontation with them just yet."
"But, my lord," Avery spoke up, gasping through the pain of his broken leg, "you must demonstrate your power. If you hesitate, people will think you fear the Blacks and Malfoys. They won't respect us, and they won't fear us."
Voldemort's eyes gleamed with a predatory light. "Avery, do you think I need a show of power? If you want to dominate the world, you do so by gathering powerful allies, not simply cowing your enemies." He rose from his chair, his voice lowering to a chilling whisper. "It's time to pay a visit to our dear Walburga Black."
His followers nodded in submission, eyes averted, as Voldemort shifted the meeting's focus to a planned raid on a nearby Muggle village.
*****
Back at Hogwarts, a scene both strange and hilarious was unfolding. The usually imposing figures of Orion Black and Abraxas Malfoy, the lords of the most ancient and noble houses, were slumped in an abandoned classroom, completely drunk and out of their minds. Sirius, Remus, and Regulus stood nearby, wide-eyed and baffled at the sight.
Sirius rubbed his eyes in disbelief. "Are they… drunk?"
Remus nodded, a grin spreading across his face. "Yeah. And completely gone. I can't believe what I'm seeing."
"Thank Merlin I found them first," Regulus said, sinking into a nearby chair. "I caught them like this near the entrance to the Slytherin common room. I barely managed to drag them here before anyone saw them."
Orion and Abraxas, slouched and grinning foolishly, were deep in a drunken conversation. Both were laughing with the abandon of schoolboys, faces flushed, eyes glazed over with far too much Firewhisky.
"What did youuuu do with her?" Abraxas slurred, chuckling.
"What did yooouuuu do with her?" Orion replied, and both men dissolved into laughter, practically falling over each other.
Sirius raised an eyebrow, leaning closer to Regulus. "Seriously, what did they drink? And where the hell are James and Peter when we need them?"
"They're off planning some prank," Remus said, rolling his eyes. He turned to Regulus, nodding a greeting. "And hey, good to see you, Regulus. Didn't expect you guys to be bonding over your fathers' drunken antics, but here we are."
Regulus sighed, looking at his father in resignation. "Right. I don't know if I'll ever see him the same way after this."
Suddenly, Orion pointed a wavering finger at Abraxas. "You… you got my sister-in-law pregnant twice, you absolute *idiot*!" he exclaimed with mock indignation.
Abraxas snorted, swaying slightly. "Well, you got *my* sister-in-law pregnant *three* times! And the first time, she was only seventeen, so don't you start with me, Black!"
Orion shook his head dramatically. "That's… different. At least I don't constantly spend my wife! *You* don't even give her a break down you, huh?"
Abraxas let out a laugh that was more of a bark. "What? *I* don't? Well I'm not a bloody saint. And anyway, it's not my fault Meenakshi's... irresistible," he finished with a sloppy wink.
Sirius's face twisted in confusion. "Hold on… three times? Are you telling me you have *three* kids?" he asked, eyebrows raised.
Regulus stared, dumbfounded. "Father… are you serious? Three kids?"
Orion blinked at them, attempting to focus. "Obviously, Regulus. *Of course* I have three kids. Rudra, Reyansh, and little Ruhi. Don't talk nonsense," he slurred, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.
"What? WHAT?! Who are they" Sirius said, more confused than ever.
Orion scoffed, looking offended. "Nonsense, Sirius Rudra Black!! Don't insult your mother's culture, boy." His tone suddenly turned serious, the room's temperature dropping as he gave Sirius a surprisingly sharp look. "Vishakha wouldn't be happy."
With that, he let his head fall back, unconscious, followed moments later by Abraxas, who seemed to have fainted mid-snicker.
The three boys sat there in stunned silence, trying to process what they had just heard.
"What… do they mean?" Regulus murmured, glancing between his brother and Remus.
"Could it actually be… true?"Sirius whispered
Remus shook his head, looking amazed. "I think it's true, Regulus. If Sirius is Rudra, then you're Reyansh. And they just said there's a third child, a sister. That woman we saw in the photograph… she must be your mother, Sirius."
Regulus blinked, stunned by the revelation. "Wait—*what* what is happening!?"
Nodding, Remus gestured to Sirius's pocket. "Show him the picture. You have been carrying it with you everywhere anyway."
Sirius pulled out a crumpled, well-worn photo from his pocket told him about slughorn's album collection and handed it to Regulus. It showed a younger Orion, after winning a dueling championship, with a beautiful Indian woman in his arms, her head tilted toward him affectionately. Her dark eyes sparkled, and her expression radiated warmth and strength.
Regulus examined the picture, his face softening. "So… this is… our mother?" His voice was barely above a whisper. "I mean, look. I have her eyes. And her nose. Sirius, we both do. How did we never realize that we look nothing like Walburga?"
Sirius took a deep breath, feeling both relief and disbelief. "I know and I never suspected that our mum would be someone like this." He held up the photo, studying the woman's kind, steady gaze. "And now we find out we have a sister too?"
They sat there, awed by the sudden revelations and the strange path that had led them to this moment. In front of them, Orion and Abraxas snored, completely oblivious to the secrets they had just revealed.