"So… I only need to give my approval?" Walburga asked with evident confusion, watching as I continued to draw a complex circle filled with runes and ancient writings.
"Pretty much. This ritual will officially allow Andromeda to return to the family and claim the leadership of the House of Black, given that there are no true pure-blood heirs left. Only descendants from other branches and, well… Sirius, but in his current state, I doubt he'll oppose," I explained calmly.
Andromeda looked at me with curiosity, standing in the center of the circle, mentally preparing herself as I went on.
"This spell will magically notify all living members with inheritance rights. If they wish to compete for the position, they will have to appear in person. If they refuse, it will exert a certain pressure on Andromeda, but I trust she will be able to withstand it," I said as I finished the engravings.
With my wand, I pointed to strategic points of the circle, causing black flames to ignite without burning the floor or giving off heat.
"And most importantly… the spirits of the Black family. Any soul that hasn't passed beyond death will be able to manifest—either to acknowledge her or to oppose her. That's where the two of us come in. Walburga, it's possible that your real soul will appear, and it will use your portrait as an anchor. You will have more power than the rest, and you'll also receive the memories you currently hold. Use them wisely and remember our deal. When the moment comes, don't hesitate to support Andromeda. As for me… I'll take care of the hostile spirits," I said, raising the jarjacha wand I had brought from my clone in Castelobruxo. It was the best tool for dealing with the spiritual. This was serious.
Finally, I poured into the circle a jug of blood: a mixture of Andromeda's and Tonks's. Black family blood. With that, the magical backing of the house, Walburga's portrait's approval, and my enhancing power, the ritual began.
The flames went out briefly, then reignited with greater intensity. The circle shone brightly, each line and symbol glowing with an ancient light as the surrounding magic was absorbed and redirected like a vortex into the heart of the ritual.
"We begin. Andromeda, be ready," I announced, as I started chanting the spell and slowly walking around the circle, pointing my wand at the ground.
Andromeda straightened, closed her eyes, and began reinforcing her mental defenses, sealing her mind with Occlumency, knowing that what was coming would be an intense trial.
The room's lighting dimmed on its own. Kreacher, who no longer dared to appear, felt the entire place grow cold. But he also sensed the accumulated power of generation after generation of the Black family becoming tangible, making him hesitate even more about whether he should come out and witness such an event.
Walburga, even from her portrait, felt how her canvas—damaged by my earlier actions—was slowly strengthening along with the environment. Andromeda, for her part, felt herself imbued with power… though she also faced a subtle rejection, a magical echo of her previous expulsion from the family. But it was bearable.
"It's starting…" I murmured, raising my wand and gathering even more power, prepared for the inevitable.
....
Meanwhile, elsewhere…
...
In Azkaban, two prisoners were struck by a wave of ancient magic that pierced them like a silent lightning bolt. Without words, they knew what was happening: someone in the House of Black was claiming the title of Head of the Family.
Sirius Black felt it instantly. The image of his cousin Andromeda, clear and resolute, appeared in his mind. At first, he thought it was just another hallucination… but this time, it was different.
He was the current head of the house, at least on paper. And that made the call stronger. But after a brief moment of thought, he realized he no longer cared. He had accepted his punishment. The position in the family had been irrelevant to him for years. He didn't hate Andromeda; on the contrary, he thought she was one of the few with a sound mind.
After a moment's reflection, he decided it wasn't worth trying to escape just to take part in this dispute. If she wanted that burden… she could have it. Internally, in that damp and silent corner of Azkaban, Sirius Black relinquished his title. And he did so with a faint, bitter smile.
Bellatrix, on the other hand, was consumed by madness.
Rage overwhelmed her at the sight of her sister—a traitor, a blood-traitor, a filthy Mudblood-lover—trying to seize control of the sacred House of Black. The very thought was unthinkable. She didn't understand how it was even possible… but she couldn't allow it.
She screamed, cursed, writhed in her cell, refusing to accept what was happening. She couldn't intervene physically, but her will was enough. She rejected Andromeda's ascension with every fiber of her being, pouring into that rejection all her hatred, all her contempt, all her insanity.
And so, the pieces began to move.
...
At Malfoy Manor, Narcissa was preparing for a Pure-Blood Circle meeting when, suddenly, she dropped what she was holding. A wave of information crashed into her mind, so intense it left her frozen for a few seconds. She was confused, alarmed… and afraid.
When she finally managed to understand what had just happened, she ran through the corridors, her dress billowing behind her.
"Lucius! Lucius!" she cried, bursting into her husband's study.
Lucius frowned in irritation as his quill smeared the letter he had been writing.
But Narcissa was not intimidated by his tone. Still breathless, eyes wide, she replied urgently:
"The House of Black! Someone is claiming the title of Head of the Family… and they're succeeding!"
Lucius shot to his feet, all irritation forgotten.
"What on earth are you talking about?" he asked, now truly concerned.
"Just a moment ago… something, a magical call… came into my mind. It said someone was claiming leadership of the House of Black. We were all summoned—every direct family member—to witness or cast our vote, either in approval or rejection. We have only one hour." She explained as clearly as she could, despite her agitation.
"Who would do that? Who would dare?" Lucius stared at her incredulously.
He had never doubted Narcissa—not publicly, at least—and he knew when something truly shook her. The House of Black was in decline, yes, but its inheritance still carried considerable weight… and he had already counted on his son Draco, with no direct competition, eventually claiming it. The thought that someone might steal it from them lit a spark of alarm inside him.
"I think I saw… my sister," Narcissa said, still perplexed.
"Bellatrix?! She's escaped from Azkaban?!" he asked, with a flicker of genuine panic.
The idea of his sister-in-law being free was bad enough… but what truly unsettled him was what it might mean: that someone else—someone far worse—might have returned as well.
"No, Andromeda," Narcissa clarified.
"Andromeda? The one who married that Mudblood and was disinherited?" He sighed in relief... though his bewilderment didn't diminish. "How the hell could she possibly claim anything...?"
"I don't know," Narcissa admitted, "but it's real. I can feel it in my magic. If she completes the ritual, she won't just be reinstated… she'll be recognized as Head of the Family, and the main line will pass to her."
"Reject her! You have more right than she does! You were accepted—she was disowned. Your vote must carry more weight!" Lucius stepped toward her, alarmed.
"I already did," Narcissa said tensely, "but it's not enough. I can only cast my vote against her. I can't stop it… and I don't know how many others might be supporting her."
For a moment, silence fell in the study, broken only by Narcissa's ragged breathing.
What they both felt was clear: if Andromeda succeeded, the Black legacy would no longer be something the Malfoys could claim.And for Lucius, that was intolerable.
"We must go and stop her… If anyone should claim the title of Lady of the House of Black, it should be you," Lucius said impatiently.
"No…" Narcissa replied weakly.
"No?" Lucius repeated, baffled by her refusal. He knew his wife understood his ambitions, and until now, she had never opposed them.
"When I married into the Malfoy family, I lost my right to inherit the Head title. The call made that clear from the beginning. But it also said that if there are other possible heirs, they can compete… if they present themselves before time runs out."
Lucius narrowed his eyes, putting the pieces together.
"Draco!" he exclaimed suddenly. "We must fetch him from Hogwarts and take him to the House of Black," he said, already searching among the jars of Floo powder. This was urgent. First, they could not allow the Black fortune to fall into other hands. Second, perhaps Draco could claim it earlier than expected. But most importantly: that legacy must never leave Malfoy control.
Lucius tried using the Floo Network to contact the only active fireplace in the castle—the one in Dumbledore's office—but the connection was sealed. He cursed the old man for wasting his time; every second could tip the balance against them.
Quickly, he switched to a fireplace in Hogsmeade and, without waiting any longer, he and Narcissa stepped into the flames, determined to retrieve Draco as soon as possible, ignoring rules and protocol. After all, Lucius was still a member of the school board.
...
"Harry, are you okay?" Ron asked, noticing his friend glancing around as if expecting to see something. "Did you hear… the voice again?"
Harry swallowed before answering.
"No… well, yes. But this time it was different. I felt as if someone was calling me… to claim something. As if someone was taking something that could have been mine," he said with a frown. "It told me to go to the House of Black ."
"The House of Black?" Ron repeated.
"What do you think is happening to me?" Harry asked, visibly unsettled. Another voice in his head. Another mystery he didn't understand. "What exactly is the House of Black?"
"I think it was a pure-blood family…" Ron tried to remember, forcing his memory. "My parents have mentioned it, I think… but I don't know much more."
"Maybe we should tell Dumbledore," Ron reasoned quickly. "It could be the Heir again, some trick or trap. If he's trying again… maybe we can catch him this time," he added with a touch of excitement, thinking that their stalled investigation might finally move forward—and earn them the recognition they wanted.
"You're right. Let's go," Harry agreed.
As Sirius Black's godson (the current Head of the Family), Harry had a faint chance of inheriting from the family. He wasn't a direct descendant, but the connection was enough for the call to reach him—though with far less intensity than those of purer Black blood.
Unfortunately for Harry and Ron, they couldn't find Dumbledore; the Headmaster had left Hogwarts due to recent events. Nor could they uncover anything about the House of Black. When they explained to Professor McGonagall what had happened, and asked about the Headmaster, she visibly paled, ordering Harry straight to the infirmary while she herself rushed out to find Dumbledore.
Before leaving, she crossed paths with Snape and, in an urgent tone, informed him of the matter… just as Narcissa and Lucius crossed Hogwarts' grounds, demanding to see their son.
Draco, for his part, had also heard the call. Unlike Harry, he understood exactly what it meant. And concerned about what might be happening, he was already searching for his Head of House, determined to request permission to leave… and to have his parents informed immediately.