Orion's sharp voice cut through the lingering tension.
"Sirius, we'll talk later. For now, take your cousin—yes, she's your cousin—and Regulus to the guest room. Look after her," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. Turning sharply, he called, "Tippy!"
The house-elf appeared with a pop, bowing low. "Yes, Master?"
"Help Mother take care of Vishakha," Orion ordered, his gaze flickering toward the floating body being carefully guided by Melania.
"Yes, Master," Tippy squeaked, instantly taking over the task.
Melania followed the house-elf, her hands deftly casting a few stabilizing charms over Vishakha's wound. Ruhanika trailed after them, her anxious eyes darting between Vishakha and little Ara, who was cradled in Sirius's arms.
"That's not how you hold a baby," Regulus said with exasperation, trailing behind Sirius.
"I know how to hold a baby!" Sirius snapped. "Stop yelling in my ear, Reggie, you'll make her cry."
"She's already frowning at you, Sirius. Babies sense incompetence," Regulus quipped, smirking faintly despite the gravity of the situation.
"Just shut up," Sirius grumbled, carefully adjusting his grip on Ara as they disappeared down the hall.
Orion's eyes lingered on Vishakha's retreating form until it vanished from sight. For a moment, his face betrayed the faintest flicker of vulnerability, but he quickly masked it as he turned back to the room.
"Well," he said, settling back into his chair, his gaze sweeping over the gathered family. "Let's continue the meeting, shall we? I hope to have no further interruptions. I allowed you all your time to speak; now it's mine. Agreed?"
The room remained silent, save for a few muttered words of assent. Orion's commanding presence left no room for dissent.
"Uncle Pollux," he began, fixing his older relative with a sharp look. "Regarding my stance in the neutral faction: I prefer the Blacks in power, not at the beck and call of any pretender. I am the Head of this family, and my decision will not change. If you believe otherwise, you're welcome to present a well-thought-out argument. In writing. Otherwise, hold your peace.
"Additionally, I want you to oversee the information guild in France. Keep everything in order. And, Uncle—remember, you are a Black first. Act accordingly."
Pollux's lips pressed into a thin line. "As you wish, Orion. But mark my words, power comes with a price. You'd better be prepared to pay it."
"I always am," Orion replied smoothly before turning his gaze to Cygnus.
"Uncle Cygnus, you'll handle our information guild here in Britain. War is on the horizon, and I intend for the Blacks to emerge from it stronger. Use this time wisely. There's opportunity in chaos—see to it we exploit it."
Cygnus gave a curt nod, though his expression was tight. "I'll take care of it, Orion. But don't expect miracles. This family has enemies on every corner."
"Good. I'll expect results, not excuses," Orion shot back.
"Aunt Cassiopeia," he continued, turning to the sharp-eyed woman. "I need you to research everything you can about Horcruxes—what they are and how to destroy them. Leave no stone unturned."
The room erupted into shocked exclamations.
"Horcruxes?!" Arcturus bellowed, rising halfway from his seat. "What in Merlin's name do you want with those? That's the darkest magic, boy! Do you have any idea what you're suggesting? You'd lose your mind, your soul—"
"I'm not planning to make one," Orion interrupted coldly, his voice cutting through the uproar like a blade. "Calm yourselves."
"Then why?" Dorea asked sharply, her eyes narrowing. "Why even utter the word? No Black in their right mind would dabble in such foulness."
"Because the so-called Dark Lord has not one but several," Orion said, his tone grim. "He seems to believe that because he's a Legilimens, no one else can uncover his secrets. He's wrong. If we're to stand against him—or even remain neutral—we need to understand what we're dealing with."
"Several Horcruxes?" Pollux's voice was incredulous. "That would make him... practically immortal."
"And completely insane," Cassiopeia added dryly. "Splitting one's soul more than once—how much of a man is he even?"
"Precisely," Orion said. "If Voldemort falls, the Blacks must rise. But we cannot rise unprepared. Cassiopeia, I trust you'll handle this discreetly?"
She inclined her head. "You'll have your answers, Orion. But don't expect them to come without cost."
Orion's gaze darkened. "I'm well aware. And I'll pay it if I must. Now, any objections? Or shall we proceed?"
The room remained silent, save for the faint rustling of robes. Orion allowed himself a small, satisfied smile.
"Good. Then let's plan for the future."
"How is business going Marius?"
Marius's eyes flickered briefly to Orion, before he casually took another sip of his wine. "Well, business in the Muggle world's thriving."
Dorea's sharp eyes narrowed. "Wait, wait. Since when was this a partnership between you two?"
"Well, you know how it is. After Mother's little banishment to the Muggle world, I needed some help, and Orion—our dear, brilliant little heir—saw an opportunity. Offered me money, or as he likes to call it, 'investment'," Maurius grinned devilishly, sipping from his glass. "I think it's more like I work for him. He's a hell of a demanding boss, you know."
Orion raised a brow, but before he could respond, Andromeda's voice cut through the conversation. "The Blacks have influence on the Muggle side?" she asked incredulously.
"Well, that's one way to look at it," Marius said, shrugging nonchalantly. "We've made our mark, you know. The Blacks have influence on both sides—Muggle and magical. And it's not just about keeping a foot in both worlds. If we control the weapons industry in Britain, well... you can guess what that means, can't you?"
"World domination, cousin. That's what we're talking about here," Alphard chimed in with a mocking grin. "Not just a foot in the door, but the whole damn house."
"Enough," Orion barked, his voice commanding. "Marius, focus. How is the business?"
Mauri's expression became more serious as he leaned forward. "It's fine. We've saturated the British market. Every weapon held by any living being here in muggle Britain—comes from our industry. That includes the government and the royal family. How's that for a bit of influence?"
Orion's lips twitched in approval. "Surprising, but I'm pleased with the results." He nodded, satisfied. "Let's keep this momentum going."
A tense silence fell over the table for a moment. Orion's voice broke through it once again. "Aunt Irma, there's something important for you. Are you up for it?"
Irma glanced at him, her eyes flicking over the family before her. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, stop dragging it out. What do you want, Orion?"
"You're close with the Moody family, aren't you? I want them to ally with the Blacks." Orion's tone was flat, businesslike.
Irma's eyebrows lifted slightly. "You want me to make that happen?"
"Yes. I expect results. Do whatever it takes." Orion's gaze sharpened.
Irma smirked. "Fine. But don't expect me to give them a free pass. They'll need convincing."
"Good," Orion nodded. "I trust you can handle it."
There was a soft, almost unnoticeable tone in Orion's voice as he turned to his sister, Lucretia. "Sister…"
"Yes, brother?" Lucretia's voice was cool, her eyes held warmth as she met his gaze.
"You're a Weasley now," Orion continued, his words carefully chosen. "And you're the only one in the family with connections to the Light families of Britain. I want you to find out what they think about this Voldemort. And while you're at it, track down the ones who follow Dumbledore blindly. We need to know who can be swayed to our side."
Lucretia nodded slowly, her face hardening as she processed the order. "I'll get it done, Orion. Don't worry about it."
Orion turned his attention to Dorea next. "Dorea, you have a major task ahead of you. I need you to find a perfect candidate for us to put forward as the Minister of Magic. You know the requirements."
Dorea gave him a steady look, her lips tight as she considered the request. "I'm aware of the requirements, Orion. But the Minister's position is more than just a pretty face or a willing puppet. It's political maneuvering, and that's going to take time."
"I don't need time," Orion responded coldly. "I need results. I'll leave the details to you, but make it happen. The future of the Blacks depends on it."
No one spoke. The weight of the Black family's future hung heavy in the air.
As the conversation shifted into the undercurrents of plotting and scheming, the room grew heavier with tension. The Black family was always about control, power, and precision. Their words were sharp, cutting, and calculated—no room for mistakes. Orion had set the wheels in motion, and now the Black family would work together, each of them with their own agenda, but ultimately toward the same goal.
"Now," Orion said, looking around the room. "Is there anything else? I expect results, not excuses."
The room remained silent, everyone fully aware that crossing Orion would mean facing the full brunt of the Black family's wrath.