TheBlackEarl
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Last Heir of Death Ch. 11
🕑 Added 2025-11-09 15:30:02 +0000 UTCThe disappearance of Tom Riddle had caused quite the stir initially.
For the first week, there were whispered conversations in corridors and concerned looks from professors. The Headmaster himself had conducted a brief investigation, questioning students who’d been seen with Tom in his final days. Harry had been among them, having been spotted with Riddle in the Restricted Section just days before he vanished.
“Did he mention anything unusual?” Dippet had asked, his concern evident.
Harry had met his gaze steadily. “Nothing specific, sir. We discussed magical theory, compared notes on some advanced concepts. He seemed perfectly normal.”
Which was technically true.
Dippet had nodded slowly, and that had been it for him. The investigation fizzled out within two weeks.
Slughorn had been the most visibly affected. He’d lost one of his prized students, after all, and the man had moped about it for nearly a month. “Such a brilliant mind,” he’d said wistfully during one Potions lesson, shaking his head. “A tragedy, truly. One can only hope he returns safely.”
But even Slughorn had eventually returned to his usual gregarious self, hosting parties and collecting promising students like rare potions ingredients. Tom Riddle became just another name in Hogwarts history, another student who’d left without explanation. These things happened, apparently, especially during uncertain times.
What struck Harry most was how quickly people stopped caring. Within six weeks, Tom’s name barely came up anymore. A few professors occasionally mentioned him in passing, but the students had moved on entirely. It was a stark reminder of how wizarding society viewed those without prestigious family names. Tom had been brilliant, charismatic, and ambitious, but he was also an orphan with a muggle surname. His absence created barely a ripple.
“It’s disturbing,” Nymeria had said one night after their lovemaking. “If a pureblood heir had vanished like this, there’d be Ministry investigations, political pressure, constant attention. But an orphan disappears and everyone just shrugs.”
“Welcome to the Wizarding World,” Harry had replied grimly. “Blood status means everything here.”
Now, two months after that night in the Chamber, they stood in the Room of Requirement. Harry bent over a large piece of enchanted parchment spread across a conjured table, his wand moving as he layered the final detection charms.
“Almost done,” he murmured, watching as golden threads of magic wove themselves into the parchment. The map was taking shape beautifully, far more sophisticated than the Marauders’ version would eventually be. This one incorporated ward detection, secret passage identification, and even a basic alert system for specific individuals.
Nymeria watched from a nearby chair, sorting through a stack of letters. “We’ve got confirmations from both families. The Blacks want me there for the full two weeks, and the Potters have invited you for Christmas Eve through New Year’s.”
“Ambitious schedule,” Harry said, not looking up from his work. The map was at a delicate stage; one wrong move could ruin weeks of preparation.
“It’s an opportunity we can’t pass up. The Blacks are going to have their whole family there, apparently. Perseus is making it a proper gathering.” She held up one of the letters. “Dorea mentioned there’ll be extended family too. Her aunt Belvina is coming from Bulgaria with her husband’s family.”
That made Harry pause. “Bulgaria. That’s firmly in Grindelwald’s sphere of influence.”
“Exactly.” Nymeria’s voice was tight. “This won’t just be a social call. They’ll be recruiting, Harry. Trying to bring the Blacks into Grindelwald’s camp.”
“And you’ll be right in the middle of it.”
“Where else would I get better intelligence?” She stood and crossed to the table, looking down at the nearly complete map. “The Black family is one of the most powerful in Britain. If they throw their support behind Grindelwald, it could shift the entire political landscape.”
Harry straightened, rolling his shoulders to work out the tension. “You’ll need to be careful. These aren’t the Blacks we knew. They’re smarter, more unified, and far more dangerous.”
“I’m always careful.”
“You’re really not.”
She smiled slightly. “Fine. I’ll be more careful than usual. Besides, Dorea will be there. She’s been decent so far, and Pollux isn’t a supremacist. I’ll have some allies.”
“Against the rest of the family and their Bulgarian guests?” Harry shook his head. “The odds aren’t great, Nym.”
“When have we ever cared about odds?”
Fair point. Still, Harry couldn’t shake his unease. Sending Nymeria into that environment felt like throwing her into a snake pit, even if she was perfectly capable of handling snakes.
“What about you?” she asked, clearly sensing his concern. “Ready to spend Christmas with your grandparents?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he said. “At least the Potters aren’t likely to spend Christmas recruiting for Dark Lords.”
“No, they’ll just be sizing you up as a potential family ally and probably trying to figure out your entire family history.”
“Also fair.”
Harry turned back to the map, adding the final touches. The Room of Requirement had been invaluable for this project. Not only did it provide privacy and space, but it had also supplied several rare books on advanced cartography charms that would’ve been impossible to find elsewhere.
“There,” he said finally, stepping back. The map shimmered, and then names began appearing across its surface. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”
The map burst into full detail. Every corridor, every classroom, every secret passage appeared in fine ink lines. And moving across it all were tiny dots labeled with names. Harry spotted Dippet in his office, Slughorn in the dungeons, and students scattered throughout the castle.
“It’s beautiful,” Nymeria breathed, leaning closer. “Can it track specific people?”
“Anyone in the castle. Watch.” Harry tapped his wand on a particular corridor. “Show me Charlus Potter.”
A dot labeled with Charlus’s name began to glow softly in Gryffindor Tower. The map would track him anywhere he went in Hogwarts now.
“This is going to be incredibly useful,” Nymeria said. “Especially for avoiding people we don’t want to run into.”
“Or finding people we do want to find.” Harry carefully rolled up the parchment. “We’ll need to be careful about who sees it. This kind of magic would raise questions.”
“Everything we do would raise questions.”
“Then let’s try not to add to the list.”
They spent the next hour testing the map’s various features, making sure everything worked as intended. By the time they were satisfied, it was nearly curfew.
“We should head back,” Nymeria said.
Harry nodded, tucking the map safely into his robes. They left the Room of Requirement and made their way through the quiet corridors. Most students were already in their common rooms, and the few they passed were too absorbed in their own conversations to pay them much attention.
“Do you ever think about what we’re doing?” Nymeria asked suddenly as they climbed a moving staircase. “Changing things, I mean. Every action we take here ripples forward.”
“All the time,” Harry admitted. “But we don’t have much choice, do we? Voldemort would’ve been worse. And if we can prevent Grindelwald from gaining more power, stop some of the deaths that are coming...”
“Is it worth the risk of making things worse?”
It was a question they’d danced around for months. The truth was, neither of them knew for certain. They could only hope their knowledge of history and their intentions were enough to guide them toward better outcomes.
“We’ll make mistakes,” Harry said finally. “We already have. But doing nothing, letting Tom Riddle become Voldemort, letting Grindelwald’s war unfold exactly as it did before... that would be worse.”
Nymeria was quiet for a moment. “I hope you’re right.”
“So do I.”
-Break-
The last day of term arrived with the usual chaos of students rushing to pack and catch the Hogwarts Express. Harry stood with his trunk, scanning the crowd for Nymeria. He spotted her, surrounded by several of the Blacks.
Charlus appeared at his elbow, also carrying a trunk. “Quite the send-off she’s getting,” he observed. “The Blacks do love their family gatherings.”
“Apparently.”
Dorea was there, along with Arcturus, Pollux, and Cassiopeia. They were all dressed in expensive traveling robes, looking every inch the prestigious family they were.
“Potter! Peverell!” Slughorn’s voice boomed across the platform. “A moment, if you would!”
Harry turned to see their Potions professor hurrying toward them, Dumbledore at his side. And with them was a man Harry didn’t recognize. He was younger than the professors, perhaps in his late twenties, with reddish-brown hair and a somewhat rumpled appearance despite his obvious attempts at looking formal.
“Ah, good, good,” Slughorn said as they approached. “I wanted to introduce you all before you left. This is Newt Scamander. He’s been consulting with Professor Dumbledore on some matters related to magical creatures, and I thought you bright young minds might appreciate meeting him.”
Harry felt his heart skip. Newt Scamander. Of course. He should’ve recognized him from the descriptions in his famous book.
“A pleasure,” Newt said, shaking hands with them. His grip was firm but brief, and Harry noticed he seemed slightly uncomfortable with the social niceties. “Horace has told me quite a bit about his star students.”
“You’re too kind, Newt,” Slughorn beamed. “These are some of the brightest students I’ve had in years. Harry Peverell and Charlus Potter, both sixth years, and here we have the latest bunch from the Blacks. Pollux, Cassieopeia, Arcturus, Dorea, and Nymeria Black.”
“Mr. Scamander has been working on a rather ambitious project, documenting magical creatures from around the world,” Dumbledore said as the Blacks got closer.
“Trying to, at any rate,” Newt said modestly. “There’s still so much we don’t understand about magical fauna, particularly how they interact with their environments and with wizardkind.”
“Sounds fascinating,” Charlus said. “Must take you all over the world.”
“It does. Just returned from Bulgaria, actually. Remarkable place for magical creatures, though the political situation is becoming rather tense.” Newt’s expression clouded slightly. “Many creatures are being displaced by the growing conflicts.”
Harry knew what he meant. Grindelwald’s influence was spreading, and with it came violence and upheaval that affected more than just human populations.
“Miss Black?” Newt suddenly said, staring at Nymeria keenly. “Forgive me for staring, but... you’re a Metamorphmagus, aren’t you?”
Nymeria blinked, then nodded slowly. “I am. How did you know?”
“The magical signature,” Newt explained, his earlier awkwardness vanishing as he spoke about his area of expertise. “It’s similar to certain shapeshifting creatures I’ve studied. Quite rare in humans, of course. Fascinating ability.”
“Newt is particularly interested in the magical signatures of various beings,” Slughorn interjected. “He’s developed quite the expertise in identifying them.”
“I’d be interested in hearing more about how your ability works, if you’d be willing to discuss it sometime,” Newt said to Nymeria. “The magical mechanics of human transformation are poorly understood, and Metamorphmagi are so rare that we have very few documented studies.”
“Maybe after the holidays,” Nymeria said carefully. “I’d be happy to help with your research.”
“Splendid!” Slughorn clapped his hands together. “Nothing like a bit of academic collaboration. Now, you’d all better board the carriages before the train leaves without you. Have a wonderful Christmas, all of you!”
They made their goodbyes and climbed onto the train. Harry found a compartment with Charlus, Robert, Edgar, and the other Gryffindors while Nymeria went with the Blacks. It was probably for the best. They’d need to maintain some distance during the holidays anyway.
The train pulled away from Hogsmeade station, and Harry watched the castle recede into the distance. Somewhere in that ancient pile of stones was the Chamber of Secrets, now permanently sealed. Tom Riddle’s body would never be found.
“You all right?” Charlus asked, noticing his distraction.
“Fine. Just thinking about the term.”
“It’s been a strange one, hasn’t it? New students, Tom Riddle’s disappearance, all those political discussions at Slughorn’s gatherings.” Charlus shook his head. “Sometimes I feel like I’m watching the world change and I can’t quite keep up.”
“It’s changing faster than anyone realizes,” Harry said quietly.
Charlus studied him for a moment. “You know something, don’t you? About what’s coming. You and Nymeria both. I’ve watched you two at those gatherings, the way you react when people talk about Grindelwald or the situation on the continent. You’re not surprised by any of it.”
Harry chose his words carefully. “My family has been traveling extensively. We’ve seen some of what’s happening in Eastern Europe. It’s worse than most people in Britain realize.”
“How much worse?”
“Bad enough that when it finally reaches Britain, it’s going to change everything.”
Charlus was quiet for a long moment. “And you’re trying to prepare for it.”
“Trying.”
“Well,” Charlus said with a slight smile, “for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here. Something tells me we’re going to need people like you before this is all over.”
Harry glanced at him. If only he knew.
When the train finally pulled into King’s Cross, Harry spotted an older couple waiting on the platform. The man had Charlus’s build and bearing, though his dark hair was streaked with gray. The woman beside him was elegant and poised, her smile warm as she saw her son.
“My parents,” Charlus said unnecessarily. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
Harry grabbed his trunk and followed, very aware that he was about to meet his great-grandparents. The thought made his hands slightly unsteady.
“Mother, Father,” Charlus said as they approached. “This is Harry Peverell. Harry, my parents, Lord Henry Potter and Lady Eleanor Potter.”
“Mr. Peverell,” Lord Potter said, extending his hand. His grip was firm as he assessed him. “Charlus has mentioned you in his letters. Says you’re quite the scholar.”
“He’s being generous, sir,” Harry replied. “I just have a good memory for what I’ve read.”
“And a striking resemblance to our family,” Lady Potter observed with a gentle smile. “Charlus wasn’t exaggerating about that either.”
“So I’m told, ma’am.”
“Well, we’re delighted to have you join us for Christmas,” she said warmly. “It will be nice to have another young person about the house. Charlus gets dreadfully bored with just us old folks for company.”
“I do not,” Charlus protested, though he was grinning.
Nearby, Harry could see the Blacks gathering. There were more of them than he’d expected, a whole group of well-dressed wizards and witches clustering around Nymeria and the Hogwarts students. An older man who could only be Lord Perseus Black stood at the center.
Nymeria caught his eye briefly across the platform. She looked calm, composed, but Harry could see the tension. She was about to walk into the viper’s nest.
He wished he could go with her. But they’d agreed this was the best approach. Split up, gather intelligence from both families, and reconvene afterward to share what they’d learned. And it wasn’t as if they couldn’t talk telepathically if they wanted to.
“Ready to go?” Lord Potter asked, gesturing toward the platform exit.
Harry took one last look at Nymeria, who gave him the slightest of nods.
“Ready,” he said, and followed the Potters into whatever came next.
-Break-
The fireplace fizzled out as Nymeria arrived with Dorea and Arcturus a little while after the rest of the family.
“I hope you’re ready for this,” Dorea murmured as they brushed soot off their shoulders.
“I’m a Black,” Nymeria said with more confidence than she felt. “I’ll manage.”
The manor’s interior was impressive; all dark wood paneling and oil paintings of stern-faced ancestors. Nymeria caught glimpses of rooms filled with expensive furniture, enchanted objects, and the accumulated wealth of centuries.
The main hall was enormous, and the decorations were distinctly pagan in their influence, with holly and ivy woven into intricate patterns and an altar in one corner decorated with pine boughs and silver ornaments. No hint of muggle Christmas traditions here; this was Yule in its purest form.
And filling the hall were Blacks.
Perseus stood at the center, holding court like the lord he was. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his dark hair graying at the temples, and his gray eyes sharp. Everything about him screamed authority and power.
Cygnus stood to his right, looking less rigid than his father. His wife Irma stood beside him, thin and sharp-featured, her eyes cold as she watched them.
On Perseus’s left was his younger son Orion. He was slightly shorter than Cygnus but somehow more imposing, his expression severe and his posture straight. His wife Doris matched him in severity, both of them watching the room like hawks.
Pollux approached them, grinning as he clasped Arcturus’s shoulder.
“About time you lot showed up. Mother’s been fretting you’d miss dinner.”
“We’re perfectly punctual, thank you,” Arcturus replied dryly.
Nymeria’s attention was drawn to the other young men in the room. Two of them stood near Orion, both older than the Hogwarts students. Marius and Altair, she realized. Orion’s elder sons, both graduated and working in the family businesses. They were watching Pollux with expressions that weren’t quite hostile but certainly weren’t friendly.
And then there was Cassiopeia, standing with her parents, a small smirk on her face as she gazed at Nymeria.
“Ah, and here is our newest family member,” Perseus said, his voice carrying across the hall. “Come forward, girl. Let us have a proper look at you.”
Nymeria crossed the floor, very aware of every eye on her. She stopped at a respectful distance and bowed her head slightly. “Lord Black. Thank you for the invitation to your home.”
“Blood calls to blood,” Perseus said, studying her intently. “You have the look of us, certainly. The Carpathian branch, if I recall correctly?”
“Yes, my lord.” Nymeria kept her tone respectful but straightforward. “My family has lived in the Carpathians for several generations now.”
Perseus nodded slowly, though something in his expression suggested he was filing away the details for later verification. “The old Romanian line. They've kept to themselves for quite some time.”
“We've maintained our traditions, my lord.” Which was vague enough to mean everything and nothing.
“Indeed. You’re here now, and you’ve proven yourself at Hogwarts. Pollux and Arcturus speak well of you.” He gestured to the room at large. “This is your family. You’ll meet the rest of them soon enough.”
Nymeria recognized it as the dismissal, and Dorea appeared at her elbow, gently steering her toward a quieter corner. “That went well. Grandfather can be rather intimidating when he wants to be.”
“I noticed.”
“Come on, let me introduce you properly before dinner.”
The next hour was a blur of names and faces. Cygnus was polite but reserved, clearly taking his measure of her. Irma was cold and dismissive, barely acknowledging Nymeria’s existence beyond a curt nod. Orion was formal and stiff, treating the introduction like a business transaction. Doris was equally unfriendly.
Marius and Altair were interesting. Both were in their mid-twenties, both accomplished in their fields, Marius in international trade, and Altair in curse-breaking. And it was apparent that both were clearly resentful of something, though they hid it behind polite masks.
“So you’re the new cousin,” Marius said, his tone neutral but his eyes cold. “How fortunate for you, to be welcomed back into the family.”
“I’m grateful for the opportunity,” Nymeria replied carefully.
“I’m sure you are.” Altair’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Nothing like being able to claim the Black name and all its advantages.”
There was definitely something there, though Nymeria couldn’t quite pin down what it was. Before she could probe further, a house-elf announced that dinner was ready.
They filed into the dining room, which was even more impressive than the main hall. A long table dominated the space, set with silver and crystal that probably cost more than most people earned in a year. The walls were decorated with more holly and ivy, and candles floated overhead, casting everything in a warm golden glow.
Nymeria found herself seated between Arcturus and Dorea, with Cassieopeia across from her. Perseus took the head of the table, with his sons flanking him. The hierarchy was clear in every detail of the seating arrangement.
Dinner began with the formality she’d expected. Conversation was polite and surface-level, touching on school achievements and family news. The food was excellent, course after course of perfectly prepared dishes that showcased the family’s wealth.
“I understand you’ve been doing quite well in your studies,” Cygnus said to Nymeria at one point. “Slughorn mentioned you in his latest letter.”
“I try my best, sir.”
“More than trying, from what we’ve heard,” Pollux interjected. “She’s one of the top students in our year.”
“As befits a Black,” Irma said sharply. “But I hope you’re not neglecting the proper subjects in favor of more frivolous pursuits.”
“I maintain balance across all my courses, ma’am,” Nymeria replied evenly.
“Good. Too many students these days focus solely on practical magic and ignore the theoretical foundations that make us superior to lesser wizards.”
“Inferior, Mother,” Pollux corrected mildly. “Lesser implies degree rather than inherent quality.”
Irma’s eyes narrowed. “I meant what I said.”
The tension ratcheted up slightly, but Perseus smoothly changed the subject. “Speaking of family matters, I’ve received a most interesting letter from Lord Potter.”
Every eye turned to him. Nymeria saw how Dorea’s hand tightened slightly on her fork.
“He’s proposed a betrothal between his son Charlus and my granddaughter Dorea.” Perseus’s voice was measured, giving nothing away. “The terms are generous, and the Potter family’s reputation is beyond reproach.”
“The Potters,” Orion said thoughtfully. “Old blood, certainly. Respectable enough. Though they’ve always been rather... moderate in their politics.”
“Moderate isn’t necessarily bad,” Cygnus pointed out. “It means they’re less likely to make enemies.”
“It also means they’re less likely to take stands on important issues,” Irma countered. “A family should have convictions.”
“The Potters have convictions,” Pollux said. “They just don’t feel the need to shout them from the rooftops.”
“Regardless,” Perseus said, cutting off the brewing argument, “I believe the match is suitable. Dorea, you’ve spent time with the Potter heir, haven’t you?”
“I have, Grandfather.” Dorea’s voice was calm, her posture perfect. “He’s intelligent, well-mannered, and comes from a good family.”
“Then I shall send my acceptance to Lord Potter in the morning,” Perseus declared. “We’ll formalize the arrangement after Yule.”
And that was that. Dorea’s future decided over dinner, as casually as discussing the weather. She took it in stride, nodding gracefully in acceptance of her grandfather’s will.
Marius and Altair exchanged glances across the table, their expressions unreadable. Cassiopeia looked faintly bored, as if such arrangements were so commonplace they barely warranted attention.
“A toast, then,” Orion said, raising his glass. “To Dorea and her soon-to-be betrothed. May the union strengthen both families.”
Everyone raised their glasses and drank.
The dinner ended shortly, but no one moved even as the house elves cleaned the place up. The evening continued with talk of family business and social obligations. Nymeria mostly listened, filing away information about property holdings, business ventures, and political connections. The Blacks had their fingers in everything from Gringotts investments to Ministry contracts.
It wasn’t until much later that the real purpose of this gathering became clear.
The house-elf had just served the finest wine sourced from the Black family’s own vineyard when the front doors opened again. Nymeria heard voices in the entrance hall, speaking in accented English and what sounded like Bulgarian.
Perseus smiled, setting down his glass. “Ah, our guests from abroad.”
A moment later, a group of people entered the dining room. At their head was a woman who could only be Belvina, Perseus’s daughter. She had the Black features but softened slightly, her hair more brown than black, her eyes a lighter gray. Beside her was a man in expensive robes, clearly wealthy and powerful.
And behind them were three younger people, all bearing the same dark-haired, aristocratic look.
“Father,” Belvina said, crossing to Perseus and kissing his cheek. “It’s good to see you.”
“Belvina. Welcome home.” Perseus gestured to the table, nodding toward the others one after the other. “Lord Krum, Mikhail, Viktoria, Ivan. Welcome. A shame you couldn’t join us for dinner.”
The Krums took their seats, house-elves rushing to provide additional place settings. Harry and Nymeria had already researched on the family. Lord Aleksandar Krum was a prominent figure in Bulgarian wizarding society, a lord with extensive holdings and significant political influence.
“We bring greetings from the continent,” Aleksandar said in his accented English. His voice was smooth and cultured. “And news, but not all of it is pleasant.”
“The political situation has deteriorated,” Belvina added, picking up a glass of wine and nursing it idly. “Which is partly why we’ve come. There are matters we need to discuss with the family.”
Perseus nodded gravely. “Let us enjoy some fine wine before be indulge in serious matters.”
The atmosphere had shifted slightly. Whatever little casual warmth had existed before was gone, replaced by an underlying tension. Everyone at the table knew this wasn’t just a family visit.
Nymeria caught Pollux’s eye and saw her own concerns reflected there. This was going to get complicated very quickly.
The Krums were charming and sophisticated, clearly comfortable in high society. Their children were equally polished, but Nymeria noticed they watched everything with sharp, assessing eyes.
Finally, Perseus rose. “Let us retire to the drawing room. We have much to discuss.”
They filed out of the dining room and into a large drawing room that had been prepared for exactly this kind of meeting. More chairs had been arranged, and the fire burned brightly in the hearth. Once everyone was settled, Perseus looked to Aleksandar.
“Now then. What news from the continent?”
Aleksandar leaned forward, his expression grave. “Grindelwald is working to consolidate his power across most of Eastern Europe. Romania, Hungary, parts of Austria, a lot of all those countries is firmly under his influence. The governments there are either sympathetic with him or would soon be replaced by those who will.”
“We’ve heard rumors,” Cygnus said carefully. “But news from abroad is often unreliable.”
“These are not rumors.” Belvina’s voice was sharp. “We’ve seen it firsthand. Grindelwald has united wizarding communities that have been fractured for centuries. He’s given them purpose, a sense of direction.”
“Through fear and violence,” Pollux interjected.
“Through strength,” Mikhail Krum corrected. His English was nearly perfect, only the slightest accent betraying his origins. “The weak have always feared the strong. That doesn’t make strength wrong.”
“It does when that strength is used to oppress and murder,” Pollux shot back.
“Oppress?” Viktoria laughed coldly. “How dramatic. Grindelwald isn’t oppressing anyone. He’s simply establishing the proper order of things.”
“Which is?” Arcturus asked, his tone carefully neutral.
Aleksandar took over, his voice reasonable and measured. “A world where wizards are no longer forced to hide like criminals. Where our children can practice magic openly, where our communities can thrive without fear of persecution. Grindelwald offers a vision of a future where we are free.”
“Free to dominate muggles, you mean,” Pollux said flatly.
“Free to exist without pretending to be something we’re not,” Belvina countered. “The Statute of Secrecy was born from fear, from weakness. It treats our very existence as something shameful, something that must be hidden away.”
“It was born from survival,” Cygnus argued. “After the witch hunts, after centuries of persecution. The Statute saved us.”
“It enslaved us,” Mikhail said intensely. “We are the superior beings, yet we cower in shadows. We have power that muggles can only dream of, yet we let them dictate how we live. It’s absurd.”
“It’s prudent,” Arcturus replied. “There are far more of them than us. If we revealed ourselves, we’d be fighting a war we couldn’t win.”
“We could win it easily,” Ivan Krum spoke for the first time, his voice quiet but certain. “Magic trumps their technology. We could crush any muggle resistance within months.”
“At what cost?” Dorea asked. “How many lives, magical and mundane, would be lost in such a conflict?”
“Fewer than will be lost if we continue on this path,” Belvina said firmly. “You haven’t seen what we’ve seen. The muggles grow more dangerous every year. Their weapons become more terrible, their wars more devastating. It’s only a matter of time before one of their conflicts spills over and threatens us all.”
“And Grindelwald’s solution is to start the war first?” Pollux demanded. “How does that make us any better than them?”
“It makes us survivors,” Aleksandar said. “It makes us masters of our own fate instead of victims waiting for disaster.”
The argument intensified, voices rising as positions hardened. Nymeria sat quietly, observing. The Krums and Belvina had clearly prepared their arguments well. They weren’t ranting about blood purity or magical superiority in crude terms. Instead, they framed everything around survival, freedom, and self-determination.
It was effective. She could see several people at the table nodding along, their expressions thoughtful. Even those who disagreed seemed to struggle with rebuttals.
“What about muggleborns?” Dorea asked after a brief moment of silence. “How does Grindelwald’s vision account for them?”
“They would be educated properly,” Viktoria said. “Raised in our culture, taught our ways. Their magical ability proves they have wizarding ancestry somewhere in their line. They simply need to be reclaimed.”
“Reclaimed,” Pollux repeated with disgust. “You make them sound like lost property.”
“They are lost,” Belvina said sharply. “Lost to muggle families who can’t understand them, who often fear or resent them. Grindelwald would see them removed from those environments as children and raised properly, among their own kind.”
“You mean taken from their families,” Dorea said quietly.
“For their own good,” Aleksandar assured. “Would you leave a magical child in an environment where they’re hated and misunderstood? Where they might accidentally reveal magic and endanger us all?”
“It’s not about compassion,” Pollux said flatly. “It’s about control.”
“It’s about survival,” Mikhail countered. “Every muggleborn who grows up ignorant of our world is a potential security risk. And every muggle family that learns magic exists is a threat to the Statute.”
“So instead of managing the risk through the current system, we tear children from their families?” Pollux’s voice had gone cold. “Forgive me if I find that solution abhorrent.”
“Your morality is a luxury afforded by ignorance,” Ivan said bluntly. “You sit here in Britain, safe and isolated, while the rest of the magical world deals with the reality of coexisting with muggles. You don’t see the constant struggle, the daily compromises, the ever-present fear of discovery.”
“Britain isn’t isolated,” Arcturus objected. “We have our own challenges.”
“Do you?” Viktoria’s smile was mocking. “When was the last time you feared a mob of muggles with pitchforks and torches? When did you last worry that your neighbor might burn you at the stake if they learned what you were?”
“Those days are long past,” Dorea said.
“Are they?” Belvina leaned forward. “Or have you simply grown complacent? The muggles may not burn us anymore, but they have other weapons now. Guns, bombs, poison gas. They used those weapons against each other just two decades ago, and even now, they’re doing it in other parts of the world. What happens when they decide to use them against us?”
“They’d have to discover us first,” Cygnus pointed out.
“They will,” Aleksandar said with certainty. “It’s inevitable. Their technology improves every year. Their ability to communicate, to organize, to wage war, all of it grows stronger. Eventually, they’ll stumble onto evidence of our existence that they can’t ignore or explain away. And when that day comes, we’ll be faced with a choice: hide and hope they leave us alone, or stand and fight for our right to exist.”
“Grindelwald says we should make that choice now,” Belvina added. “On our terms, when we still have every advantage. Waiting only gives them time to prepare.”
The logic was seductive, Nymeria had to admit. Framed this way, Grindelwald’s ideology sounded almost reasonable. Almost. Until you remembered the concentration camps, the torture, the systematic murder of anyone who opposed him.
But these people didn’t know about that yet. They only knew the pretty speeches and the logical arguments.
“What you’re describing is genocide,” Pollux said, his voice hard. “No matter how you dress it up.”
“We’re describing self-preservation,” Mikhail corrected. “If one species threatens another’s existence, nature has always favored the strong.”
“We’re not separate species,” Dorea interjected. “Muggleborns prove that. We’re the same species, just with different abilities.”
“Abilities that fundamentally change what we are,” Viktoria argued. “A wizard isn’t just a muggle who can cast spells. Magic alters us at our core, changes how we perceive and interact with reality. We might as well be different species.”
“That’s a philosophy,” Arcturus said. “And a dangerous one at that.”
“It’s the truth,” Ivan replied. “Ask any magizoologist. Magical ability creates fundamental differences in how beings develop, think, and exist in the world. We’re no more the same species as muggles than a phoenix is the same species as a chicken.”
“Phoenixes and chickens don’t interbreed,” Pollux shot back. “We do. Successfully. That rather undermines your argument.”
“Does it?” Belvina’s eyes were cold. “Or does it simply prove that biological compatibility doesn’t equate to social or cultural compatibility? Muggles and wizards can produce children together, yes. But those children are raised in worlds that are fundamentally incompatible with each other. The resulting conflicts tear families apart.”
“Only because of prejudice on both sides,” Dorea said firmly. “If we educated both communities, built understanding—“
“You can’t build understanding with those who refuse to comprehend,” Aleksandar interrupted. “Muggles have proven throughout history that they fear and destroy what they don’t understand. That’s not prejudice, it’s observation.”
“And wizards have proven throughout history that they fear and destroy what they consider beneath them,” Pollux countered. “Perhaps we’re more alike than you want to admit.”
The arguing continued, going in circles. Every point raised by Pollux, Arcturus, or Dorea was met with a counter-argument from the Krums or Belvina. And slowly, inevitably, those counter-arguments were landing.
Nymeria watched Irma nodding along with increasing enthusiasm. Orion and Doris were clearly sympathetic as well, their expressions approving. Even Cygnus, who’d started the evening skeptical, seemed to be wavering.
Cassiopeia hadn’t said much, but her eyes gleamed with interest as she listened to the Krums’ arguments.
“The old ways are dying,” Belvina said calmly. “The pure-blood families that have maintained wizarding traditions for centuries are being diluted and marginalized. If we don’t act, our culture, our heritage, everything that makes us who we are will be lost.”
“Some change is inevitable,” Cygnus said, though he sounded uncertain. “The world moves forward.”
“Forward or downward?” Mikhail challenged. “Is it progress when ancient magical knowledge is lost because the next generation is more interested in muggle toys than their own heritage? Is it advancement when families that have preserved magical bloodlines for a thousand years are pressured to accept matches that weaken those lines?”
“Blood purity isn’t about genetics,” Viktoria added. “It’s about culture, tradition, and the accumulated knowledge passed down through generations of magical families. When you marry a muggleborn or half-blood, you’re not just diluting blood, you’re diluting everything that blood represents.”
“That’s exactly what blood purity is about, though,” Pollux argued. “You’re literally talking about bloodlines.”
“We’re talking about preserving magical knowledge and culture,” Belvina corrected. “The blood is just the mechanism by which that preservation occurs. Magic runs in families for a reason. It’s not just power that’s inherited, it’s understanding, instinct, the subtle ways magic is woven into our daily lives. You can teach a muggleborn spells, but you can’t teach them centuries of magical intuition.”
“I’m sure there are powerful muggleborn witches and wizards,” Aleksandar said smoothly. “And no one questions their individual ability. But ask yourself this: do they understand the subtleties of blood magic? Can they instinctively recognize ancient curses? Do they know the proper rituals for major magical events, or the significance of celestial alignments in spellwork?”
“One can always learn.”
“Really?” Ivan pressed. “Or would they always be one step behind, struggling to grasp concepts that come naturally to those raised in our world? There’s nothing shameful in admitting that. It simply is.”
“The Ministry won’t support this,” Arcturus said eventually. “Even if some families are swayed by these arguments, the government will resist.”
“The Ministry is weak,” Orion said. It was the first time he’d spoken in a while, and everyone turned to look at him. “Corrupted by moderates and blood traitors who care more about appearing progressive than preserving our way of life. If they won’t lead, perhaps it’s time for families like ours to take matters into our own hands.”
“You’re talking about rebellion,” Cygnus said cautiously.
“I’m talking about survival,” Orion replied. “The Ministry has failed us. It bows to international pressure, accepts muggleborn and half-blood influence, and allows our traditions to be mocked and discarded. If it won’t protect magical Britain’s interests, then yes, perhaps we need to consider alternatives.”
“Alternatives like Grindelwald,” Pollux said flatly.
“Alternatives like strength,” Orion countered. “Whether that’s Grindelwald or someone else hardly matters. What matters is that wizarding Britain stops apologizing for what we are and starts asserting our rightful place in the world.”
Perseus, who’d been silent for most of the debate, finally spoke again. “These are weighty matters. Not to be decided in a single evening.”
“Of course not,” Aleksandar agreed. “We’re not asking for immediate commitments. We’re simply encouraging you to consider the future. To think about what kind of world you want your children and grandchildren to inherit.”
“A world where they’re free,” Belvina added. “Where they don’t have to hide, don’t have to pretend to be less than they are. Isn’t that worth considering?”
Perseus nodded slowly. “It is. And we will consider it, carefully.”
The formal debate was over, but the conversations continued as people broke into smaller groups. Nymeria found herself largely ignored, which suited her fine. She observed, cataloging everything she heard.
Marius and Altair were deep in conversation with Mikhail, clearly intrigued by his descriptions of Grindelwald’s organization. Cassiopeia was speaking with Viktoria, both young women animated as they discussed the ideologies further.
Irma had cornered Belvina, her face alight with enthusiasm as they talked about blood purity and proper family arrangements. Orion and Doris were with Aleksandar, their discussion more subdued but no less intense.
On the other side of the room, Pollux looked frustrated, Arcturus troubled, and Dorea carefully neutral. Cygnus stood alone by the window, staring out at the dark grounds, his expression unreadable.
There was clearly a divide, and Nymeria could already see where the tides would take this family.
Things did not look encouraging.
TBC.
Comments
Shammy2618
Love the way you decided to go in this story! Moving on from Riddle into the Grindelwald conflict is just so much more interesting, and gives much more room for your imagination as a writer to work with. I also really appreciate the nuance you are writing with when it comes to families like the Blacks, and where their politics lie in relation to Grindelwald. Avoiding the black/white, or purely good/ purely evil characterization really separates your stories from others. The way you write more nuanced/ “shades of gray” characters & story gives your writing much needed depth, most Fanfics are severely lacking. As always looking forward to more. <3
Tommuli
The argument that the muggles will eventually discover the magicals and destroy them doesn't hold, when you realise that the PM of the UK is aware of the existence of the magicals.
