"Mmmhh… we could also do it right here… I mean, I think I have the right to take revenge by fucking in every room of this house," Andromeda said with a mocking smile, barely hiding the fact that the idea of defiling the old mansion that had repudiated her aroused her more than she was willing to admit.
"Let's finish what we came here to do first…" I replied, though my hand was still on her ass. "Do you know how to get in, or will we have to force our way?"
"I can try. I haven't been back since I ran away, I don't know if they blocked my access," she said with a hint of distrust.
I motioned for her to try anyway. If it didn't work, I had plenty of resources to force an entry. I could even call Elise, and with her divine power, she'd open the way without a second thought.
Andromeda stepped forward slowly, wand lowered, making a slight flick of her wrist. In front of us, the "ordinary" building began to shift, briefly revealing the number 13, hidden between 12 and 14.
"Well, you did it? Maybe your family hasn't entirely disowned you," I said, stepping up beside her.
"It's just an illusion. Making the door appear is one thing, being allowed to enter is another," she replied, deflating any hope immediately. She then aimed her wand at the door… but nothing happened. Her expression turned sad, though not entirely surprised; it seemed she had already expected it.
"Don't make that face, you'll see how much they'll love you… with a little help from me," I said while taking her hand firmly.
"First we need to get inside for that to happen," she murmured with sarcasm.
"That might be easier than you think… Do they still have house-elves here?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.
"They should," she replied, not entirely sure.
"Perfect, leave it to me.
I had spent quite some time around house-elves, learning much about them and the families that owned them.
I cast a few silencing charms around us and closed my eyes, focusing. When I opened them, I released my magical aura at full intensity. It wasn't a specific [aura], but a brutal blend of natural power, skill, and blood magic. It was so dense that even Andromeda, whom I had intentionally excluded from its direct effect, felt a shiver run through her body. Goosebumps rose on her skin.
The muggles in the area weren't so lucky. Some felt uneasy, others dizzy, and more than one fainted without knowing why.
"Make yourselves known, servants of the House of Black!" I thundered in a voice deeper than usual, heavy with intent. "I, the Blood Wizard, announce my presence. I demand that this door be opened to grant me an audience with the ancestors of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black."
Andromeda looked at me with a mixture of surprise and doubt, without even enough time to ask what the hell I was doing. The door opened with a creak, revealing a very old house-elf, trembling with his head bowed.
"Greetings, distinguished guest," Kreacher murmured with a cracked voice. "Kreacher welcomes you on behalf of the House of Black."
This was no ordinary aura I had emitted; it was the essence of a magical lineage as pure as the one Andra still bore. That potency, intrinsically tied to its genetic origin, was enough for the elves to feel it, fear it, and respect it with an almost instinctive intensity.
"Greetings, elf," I said firmly, without arrogance but also without deference. "I request an audience with your master. At my side stands one of your own, guarantor of my cause. I expect that we shall be granted entry."
Kreacher, still with his head bowed, raised his gaze slightly toward Andromeda. At first, it seemed he recognized her with the title she had once held… but then his expression twisted.
"The blood traitor!" he exclaimed with a mix of repulsion and surprise.
The moment he spoke those words, an invisible weight fell upon him. A silent, yet overwhelming pressure made him tremble. My cold, severe gaze fixed on his body. Kreacher fell silent immediately, feeling the sharp edge of my expectations pressing against his tongue.
"Esteemed sir… this… lady has been expelled from the Black family… she cannot speak in its name," he stammered at last, his tone wavering, measuring each word.
"Go and consult with Walburga," I ordered in a harsher tone. "Don't make us waste time. This audience is as important to me… as it is to the Noble House of Black."
The elf nodded quickly, disappearing with a faint pop.
At my side, Andromeda was looking at me with something more than surprise. There was a blend of contemplation and nostalgia in her eyes. As if, for a moment, that aura, that tone of command, that old house… had carried her back to her childhood. To a time when she had not yet "stained the nobility of her surname."
I felt her gaze, and without missing the chance, I offered her a gentle smile, shattering the character I had adopted. She let out a soft laugh.
Shortly after, the door opened again. Kreacher greeted us with a trembling bow, stepping aside to let us pass.
The inside of the house was gloomy, silent. Kreacher seemed to keep it standing as best he could, but the absence of life gave the entire mansion an unavoidable air of abandonment.
He led us to a dark hall, dominated by a huge portrait. In it, the figure of a woman looked at us with sternness. Her eyes fixed on us with immediate judgment.
"So, you are the one demanding an audience with the House of Black… and you bring with you this disgrace of my blood…" the woman in the portrait spat, her voice dripping with contempt, without a trace of respect or restraint. As if she had nothing to fear… and nothing to lose.
"Indeed, Mrs. Walburga," I replied calmly. "This is who we are. But don't you think it's unwise to so openly despise Andromeda? After all, she is your blood. She's a Black. To insult her is, in a way, to insult your own family, isn't it?"
"What my family does is none of your concern," she snorted. "And that filth that once bore our name deserves neither compassion nor defense."
"It's a pleasure to see you again, Aunt Walburga," Andromeda said with a sigh, letting the memory of the past slip briefly into her voice. Portraits always had that unsettling quality of freezing time, as if old ghosts had never truly departed.
"Don't speak to me, scum," Walburga spat without hesitation. "I only wanted to see what kind of fool would dare request an audience in this house, but I see it wasn't worth my time. Kreacher, throw them out."
"Hold on, Mrs. Black. I think you're rushing things..." I intervened calmly, releasing my aura once again and stopping the elf in his tracks. Kreacher froze, trembling slightly. The weight of my presence was too much for his blind obedience. "How can you call this woman scum? Is she not a Black? Does she not belong to the most noble and ancient magical house in Britain?" I asked, my voice soft yet firm, guiding the conversation like someone moving pieces on a chessboard.
Walburga frowned at Kreacher's reaction, frozen in fear. But her pride was too deeply rooted to show weakness. Even with the house in ruins, even with her lineage diminished, she would not yield an inch.
"That woman ceased to be part of this family the day she married that mudblood," she spat the last word as if it were poison.
"Mudblood..." I repeated with apparent regret. "I don't think it's appropriate to speak so ill of the dead."
Andromeda gripped my arm tightly, trying to maintain her composure. We had discussed this before; she knew where things were headed, but that didn't make it any easier.
"Is he dead?" Walburga asked in surprise. Her niece's expression left no room for doubt. For the first time, a crack appeared in her mask of contempt. "Then... now that you're widowed, do you plan to crawl back, begging for clemency?" she asked sharply, though the hatred in her voice had diminished—barely by one percent, but it was something.
"Allow me to finish..." I said, with that ambiguous tone between confession and narration that hides more than it reveals. "Yes, it was unfortunate that Ted Tonks—son of Muggles and your niece's husband—died... because of me."
"You killed him?" —Walburga's voice, for the first time, carried no judgment, only genuine curiosity. This was becoming too complicated even for her: her disowned niece, now a widow, returning in the company of the supposed killer of her husband... a man who spoke like the nobles she remembered.
"Yes and no... let's just say your grandniece and I did certain things, which led to other things, which resulted in the unfortunate death of the late Ted Tonks—may he rest in peace. But that's a long and complicated story. Much like the matters we came to discuss with you," I said with a calm smile, confident in every word.
Walburga studied us in silence for a few seconds. More than me, she was gauging Andromeda's reaction, who was clearly letting me take the lead in the conversation. At last, the woman in the portrait sighed in annoyance and turned her face slightly.
"Kreacher, prepare some tea for our... guests," she ordered, with a trace of resignation but also interest.
"At once, my lady," the elf replied eagerly, disappearing at once. It had been a long time since he'd been given such a formal task, and the atmosphere was starting to feel like the gatherings of old, when the house still had life and power.
"If you don't mind, Mrs. Black, I think it would be more proper to speak to you in person... and also more respectful if I presented myself in my true form," I added with a polite smile, looking at the portrait.
Walburga raised an eyebrow, intrigued. But her expression shifted from distrust to confusion when she saw Tenebrius' body dissolve into a pool of dark blood, which soon dissipated like mist over the floor. She exchanged a glance with Andromeda, who didn't react at all, as if such a spectacle were routine. That, more than reassuring her, sparked in Mrs. Black the first flicker of genuine caution.
A few seconds later, footsteps echoed in the hallway. I entered through the doorway calmly, without hurry, and stopped in front of the portrait. I gave an overly dramatic bow, purely for theatrical effect.
"Allow me to formally introduce myself, Mrs. Black. You may call me Red," I said with a half-smile.
"What?" The question slipped from her lips almost involuntarily, especially as she noted my height and certain facial features that betrayed my youth. She caught herself, however, and rephrased: "Why didn't you come like this in the first place?"
"My apologies, madam, but I have too many 'scares' to tend to and I need to be in many places at once," I replied, offering no further detail. But her eyes narrowed, with the glint of someone sensing something intriguing. "Ah, by the way..." I added, as if it were a trivial anecdote, "I took the liberty of temporarily disabling the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black. Forgive the discourtesy, but I don't wish for Headmaster Dumbledore to learn of what we'll discuss today."
Walburga stared at me intently. There was no longer disdain in her eyes, but scrutiny. If before she had looked at us with haughty detachment, now it was with genuine attention. This was no ordinary man who had crossed the threshold of Grimmauld Place. And while most of the Blacks might have reacted with fury to the sabotage of a family portrait, she seemed to take it as a sign of good sense. There was no need to say how much resentment she bore toward Dumbledore. That someone had the audacity—and the reasoning—to remove him from the matter only raised her opinion of me.
"Very well... what is it you want to discuss, Mr. Red?" she finally asked, more interested than defensive. Her mind was already working to figure out whether Andromeda was actively part of what was to come, or merely the means by which I had gotten through the door. She knew the family had little left to offer... at least on the surface. But there were hidden treasures, well-kept secrets, and the thought that someone might know them unsettled her.
"Well, I think it's best if I properly explain the situation... and also who I am," I said as I dropped comfortably into an armchair, as if I were at home. Andromeda followed and sat gracefully on the armrest, calm. "Let's begin with this..."