The room was silent for a moment, save for the low hum of Orion's magic settling after his display of authority. The Black family sat in tense anticipation, their expressions ranging from disdain to reluctant curiosity.
"Well then," Dorea began, breaking the silence with her usual poise. "What is so important that we've all been dragged here, Orion? If this is about politics, you already know my stance—I'd rather not waste my time."
Cassiopeia, still scribbling in her little black book, added without looking up, "If it's politics, I should have stayed in my study. I've no interest in meddling with pointless drivel."
Walburga's sharp voice cut through like a knife. "Why is *that squib* here?" she spat, pointing at Marius as though his very presence offended her. "He's a disgrace to the family."
Sirius leaned back in his chair, smirking. "And you're a disgrace to humanity.So, I'd say we're even."
Pollux's eyes flashed dangerously as he turned on Sirius. "Who gave you the right to speak to the one who gave birth to you like that, boy?"
"Here we go again," Alphard drawled from his corner, swirling his firewhisky lazily. "Why is no one fighting over *me* like that? I could use the attention."
Andromeda smirked, her voice tinged with sarcasm. "Well, Uncle Alphard, one—they aren't fighting *over* Sirius, they're fighting *against* him. Two—you aren't worth the effort."
"Enough!" Orion's voice cut through the rising tension like a whip. His piercing gaze swept over the room, silencing everyone. "Alphard, shut up. Sirius, you don't have the experience—or skill, frankly—to duel your uncle and win. Walburga, let me remind you that *he* is my heir, and he doesn't require your permission to exist. And Uncle Pollux—let's not pretend she gave birth to him, shall we?"
The room fell into stunned silence.
"What in the name of Merlin—" Narcissa began, her composed mask slipping for the first time.
"Wait, wait," Marius said, leaning forward with interest. "To be clear, are you speaking *literally*, Orion?"
Orion inclined his head slightly. "Hello to you too, Marius. It's good to see you."
Dorea leaned forward, frowning. "Orion, you *can't* just rewrite the family tree. The magic involved is ancient and binding."
Cassiopeia, still calm but visibly intrigued, finally looked up from her book. "Come to think of it, the boys don't look much like Walburga, do they? That nose certainly isn't from her line."
Across the table, Melania whispered to Arcturus, her tone cautious. "What is our son talking about, Arcturus?"
Arcturus sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair. "Honestly, Melania, I haven't the energy to care anymore."
Cygnus seized the moment to sneer. "Well, Arcturus, perhaps your son has finally gone mad. He's no longer fit to be the family head. Honestly, look at his antics in the Wizengamot meeting. Our ancestors must be rolling in their graves."
Orion turned a cold, calculating gaze on Cygnus. "Uncle, even if I *did* step down—which I assure you I won't—it would be my son who inherits the title, not you. So spare me your ambitions. And don't think I've forgotten what you've done. Let's skip the pretense, shall we?"
"Well," Alphard drawled, barely suppressing a laugh, "Cygnus having a brain is a surprise in itself. Marrying off Bella to a Lestrange is practically *begging* for irrelevance. But I suppose desperation makes a man do foolish things—like selling off his daughter."
Cygnus's face contorted in fury, and with a whispered incantation, Alphard began foaming at the mouth, his firewhisky spilling onto the table.
Melania, sighing heavily, waved her wand to counter the curse. "Really, Cygnus? How utterly pathetic."
Orion's power flared suddenly, forcing the family into silence. A faint hum of energy rippled through the air, demanding attention and submission. "If everyone is *done*," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "we'll start this meeting properly."
The family straightened in their seats, the weight of the power of the lord of the house pressing down on them.
"You see," Orion began, his tone icy and deliberate, "the magic of this family is tied to the Family Head. Every bond, every secret, every bit of the family magic you have —it flows through me. And if you want to continue your petty squabbles, be warned: I will not hesitate to cut you off entirely. Now, sit down, shut up, and listen."
The room was silent, save for Alphard, who coughed, muttering, "Well, this got interesting."
The tension in the Black family dining room shifted into an icy deliberation as Orion leaned back in his chair, surveying the room. His voice was calm, yet carried the weight of his authority.
"I would like to know each of your opinions on this so-called Dark Lord," he began. "If you haven't heard the news, he is now officially the *family enemy*. He is one step away from igniting a full-scale blood feud with the Blacks."
The announcement was met with a moment of stunned silence before Dorea, seated with her usual grace, was the first to speak.
"Well, colour me surprised," she said dryly. "Neither Charles nor I ever expected the Blacks to align with such a fool. The Potters would never join a man who fears death so openly. It's not just cowardly—it's laughable."
"If I may speak," Marius interjected, his voice measured.
Orion gave a short nod. "Go on."
"The chaos he's creating in the Muggle world is reckless," Marius said. "It's like watching Hitler rise again—just on a smaller scale. If this continues, it won't be long before Muggles uncover the existence of the wizarding world. And make no mistake, humans—Muggle or magical—fear what they don't understand. Change, power, the unknown... it's a dangerous game he's playing."
"That would mean retaliation," Alphard added, swirling his firewhisky thoughtfully. "The wizarding population is still recovering from Grindelwald's war. Our numbers are too small for another conflict. He's making us a target for destruction, not dominance."
Druella, poised and cold as ever, tilted her head slightly. "And yet, his ideals of blood purity are not entirely wrong. But we do need *someone* to handle the menial tasks, don't we? A king requires subjects to rule."
Andromeda groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Mother, that's both disturbingly wrong and somehow oddly logical. Wow. Just… wow."
Bellatrix, leaning forward with an unnerving glint in her eye, spoke with an almost reverent tone. "The Dark Lord is powerful, and the Muggle-borns rarely integrate into our society. They bring their chaotic ideas and try to change our world. What Voldemort is doing isn't wrong—it's purification."
"You foolish girl!" Irma snapped, her sharp voice cutting through the air. "Magic is magic, no matter whose veins it runs through. Mudblood or not, spilling magical blood is a waste. I don't give a damn about Muggles, but I won't support *that thing.*"
"*Mother!*" Walburga hissed, scandalized.
"Oh, *shush,* Walburga," Irma dismissed her with a wave of her hand. "You've always been too blinded by theatrics to see the bigger picture."
"I neither support him nor despise him," Cassiopeia drawled, her tone indifferent but laced with steel. "He hasn't made much of a name for himself in France yet, but he has the audacity to think the Blacks would lower themselves to be his pawns. So what if he is to be Lord Slytherin? *We are the Blacks.*"
Pollux's voice was gruff but calculating. "I'm more inclined to his cause than against it. But not enough to pledge loyalty. He's useful, but only to a point."
Cygnus snorted, his expression skeptical. "I don't trust the man. He doesn't have a history, no connections, no past that anyone can trace. Something about him is... wrong."
"I support his cause," Walburga declared firmly, her voice ringing with conviction.
Bellatrix turned her sharp gaze on her mother, a sardonic smile tugging at her lips. "Do you support his *cause*,aunt? Or are you just eager to shove your tongue down his throat?"
The room fell silent for a beat before erupting into shocked exclamations.
"What did you say, you insolent girl?!" Walburga screeched, her face flushed with fury.
"Enough," Orion said, his voice cold and cutting through the chaos. He turned to Andromeda. "Your thoughts?"
Andromeda straightened, her calm demeanor a stark contrast to the tension in the room. "I think unnecessary bloodshed is foolish. Muggle-born, half-blood, pure-blood, or Muggle—it doesn't matter. Killing indiscriminately only breeds more chaos."
"Well said, sister," Narcissa added, her tone icy but deliberate. "We are a noble house, and alliances must benefit us. The Dark Lord's methods are... distasteful. And more importantly, he doesn't seek allies—he seeks subordinates. That alone should tell you where his true priorities lie."
Orion's gaze swept the room, taking in each of his relatives' expressions. Finally, he spoke, his voice laced with quiet authority. "The Blacks do not kneel. Not to Voldemort, not to anyone. We will not align ourselves with a man who seeks to use us as tools. This family has survived for centuries because we know when to choose power and when to wield it. Voldemort will learn if he means to cross us."