Once again, outside the Black mansion, Lucius was in despair. Three quarters of an hour had already passed: only fifteen minutes remained before the ritual was complete.
Narcissa shared his unease. She knew that perhaps only she and Draco, as members of the Black family, might be able to cross the defenses, but she had not expected to encounter such traps. From time to time, she looked at her son with concern, wondering whether he had any real chance of claiming the inheritance… and silently blaming her sister for bringing them to this point.
It was then, to Lucius' torment, that several figures appeared in the middle of the street.
"Dumbledore!" murmured the nearby wizards, recognizing the old man, who was accompanied by Professor McGonagall.
"Good afternoon, Lucius," Dumbledore greeted him with a smile, though his eyes were already analyzing every detail of the scene. "I think it's not very prudent to pull students away from their classes," he added with apparent lightness.
Observing the Malfoys' appearance, the thugs, and that unusual wall of mist, Dumbledore understood that Minerva had been right to alert him. What had happened earlier had, in truth, only been a distraction, and it had already struck him as suspicious that the chase had dragged on for so long. That such an incident was occurring within the Black family was no small matter, and the desperation on Lucius' face was enough to suggest he was not on the winning side.
He did not yet have all the information, but among the few individuals capable of orchestrating something like this, a particular figure came to mind: someone with close ties to a member of the Black family. Dumbledore was not sure which he would prefer—that it truly was him… and that his movements proved even more enigmatic, as he was not in Brazil as Dumbledore had supposed, or that other hands were moving pieces in plain sight without him having noticed.
Lucius, for his part, frowned. He could not be less pleased by this arrival. If there was anyone he did not want to see here, it was Dumbledore, for with his well-known inclination to favor Mudbloods, it was likely that in such a situation he would intervene in Andromeda's favor, ensuring she rose as head of the Black family.
But Dumbledore was not alone. The Minister for Magic, several Aurors, and certain Ministry officials had also arrived—though, to Fudge's annoyance, they were largely being ignored
"What is going on here?" demanded the Minister, raising his voice to make himself heard, while the rest of his people worked to secure the area and deal with the Muggles who might draw near… a task that would not be easy, given the magnitude of the incident.
"Good day, Fudge. How pleasant to see you," Dumbledore replied cordially, though in the Minister's ears it sounded more like mockery.
"Enough with the pleasantries… someone explain what is happening. Are you trying to break the International Statute of Secrecy? Do you know how many reports of magical activity we've received here?" Fudge scolded, casting a look at Malfoy. Yet his tone retained a certain warmth: he could not deny that his personal interests were tightly bound to the Malfoy family.
"You see, Minister…" Lucius began. "Someone has broken into the ancestral Black home. My wife discovered it, and we tried to prevent it from being defiled, but they've raised defenses… We did not wish to involve the authorities, but…"
There was no sense hiding it any longer; he had noticed the presence of spies from other families, and time was running out. So he decided to play his last card. His wife had told him that no one outside the family could enter, so his only hope was that they would help him break through, and once inside, he could send Narcissa and Draco to contend with Andromeda for the Black leadership.
Fudge was not a fool—not entirely. Even less so when one of his subordinates leaned close to whisper something he had overheard from a distant relative of the Black family. Thus the Minister—until then the only one without a precise grasp of the situation—learned the truth… and suddenly felt the impulse to enter that mansion as well.
Many of the Black properties, possessions, and businesses had been seized by the Ministry after Sirius' imprisonment. Well, that would matter little if the family were extinguished… but if it were to rise again, the Ministry would have to return everything. And worse still, many of those seizures had not been made under the light of law; if the matter reached the press, other wizarding families would begin to fear that the Ministry might strip them of their assets at the first opportunity, and things would become difficult indeed.
"Everyone, make way to the Black mansion and stop the intruders!" Fudge ordered at once, determined to preserve the status quo.
However, fulfilling that order proved far more difficult than he expected. The Aurors attempted to dispel the mist surrounding the entrance, but it was strange magic. No matter how many counter-charms they cast, they could barely disperse it for an instant before it re-formed, closing off any attempt at entry.
Now Fudge was sweating almost as much as Lucius, regretting that he had not brought more specialized reinforcements, such as the Unspeakables, to deal with this. And thus all eyes turned toward Dumbledore, who continued to study the fog with utmost care.
"Albus… we need your help," said Fudge, with a courtesy quite different from the tone he had shown upon arrival. "We cannot allow the intruders to succeed… please, help us stop them."
Dumbledore looked at him for a few seconds. Not that he intended to refuse; in truth, he too was concerned. He had already considered the possibility that Harry might inherit the Black fortune, and he was not pleased at the thought that a certain redhead—or anyone else with darker intentions—might seize it. Like everyone else present, he had his own designs for that legacy, and he was not about to stand idly by.
Since her arrival, she had studied the mist. She had never seen anything quite like it, though she had encountered similar magics at Hogwarts and in ancient ruins across Britain. She might not have known the precise method to dispel it… but she could resort to more direct means. Besides, Malfoy's thugs and the Aurors' previous attempts had weakened the barrier enough for her to act.
"Finite!" she proclaimed, aiming her wand at the ground. A surge of magic expanded outward, clashing against the mist.
The other wizards saw it and understood the opportunity. Some had tried before, without success, lacking the necessary strength; even entire groups had failed. But this time, united under Dumbledore's push, it could work.
"Finite!""Finite…!""FINITE!"
Several incantations wove together into a single assault. Even Lucius, Narcissa, and Fudge himself—desperate to break through—poured all the strength they had left.
Though the barrier of mist was unsettling, it could not withstand such power. From the beginning, it had not been reinforced as it should, and like a bubble bursting, the energy that sustained it exploded.
The fog covering the place vanished within seconds, revealing Grimmauld Place once again. More than one sighed in relief.
"Quickly, inside!" ordered Fudge
Lucius cleared the way for his wife and son, confident that only they would be able to pass without issue, unlike the others… until, to everyone's surprise, Narcissa, Draco, and the rest rebounded against an invisible wall that became visible upon impact.
"Narcissa!" Lucius shouted, rushing to her. "Didn't you say you could enter?!" he demanded, his voice trembling between desperation and anger.
"I can… but this is another barrier… not of the family," she replied with difficulty, pressing her bleeding nose after the blow.
"Another!?" Lucius and Fudge exclaimed in unison. Lucius swallowed hard; time was running out, and he feared there were still more hidden obstacles.
"All of you! Once more," ordered Fudge
Every wizard, including Dumbledore and McGonagall, cast the Finite spell again, but to everyone's shock, it had no effect whatsoever. The dome of energy, now barely translucent, had lost nearly all transparency. Inside it, where once a liquid-like substance could be seen, now blood stirred and flowed as if it were a shoal of fish.
This was my third and final barrier, woven with my blood magic and other methods. The first, of disorientation, was broken by finding the right path. The second yielded to sufficient magical power. But this one… this one could only be broken with brute force. And by the time they managed it, it would be too late. Of course, its resilience came at a price: it actively drained my reserves of blood magic with every strike it endured.
...
-Inside the mansion-
"Walburga! Have you forgotten your promise? Do you wish to see the last remnants of your family exterminated as punishment?" I roared with a monstrous voice, aware that time was running out, and that Andromeda could barely remain standing. The aid of Regulus and Kreacher, though limited, was valuable, but I wasn't going to risk everything. "Do you plan to let your son do it all on his own?"
Before me stood the true Walburga, not the one in the portrait. Though she retained the memories of what the painting had witnessed, she did not feel the same fear that had once bound her. Still, upon seeing her son supporting me, she did not hesitate long.
"You have my approval, Andromeda," she murmured.
In that instant, Andromeda felt one more vote in her favor, easing the crushing pressure upon her.
"And the rest of you…" Walburga's voice rang through the entire hall. "Will you keep opposing a girl who has achieved what you could not? Even if she is a Mudblood lover, he has brought a true wizard who can restore our glory. We have already agreed that their children will bear the Black name. Stop obstructing and allow the family to rise again."
Her words did not convince everyone, but they did sway several spirits to stop attacking and linger in thought. The more cunning among them had already recognized my power and saw it as a resource for the future.
"I will make sure Andromeda bears strong heirs. Five, ten, twenty… as many as are needed to restore the family. My bloodline and the Black bloodline will be united, and together we will carve our names into history. I swear it by the magic that flows in my veins!" I thundered, unleashing all my power, no matter the cost. The walls shook, and the spirits felt my greatness. "You decide whether you will be allies or traitors to the family's future."
Many spirits, convinced the idea wasn't so bad, stopped fighting. Cygnus, Andromeda's father, was one of the first to change his vote. His example was followed by many others who, after witnessing my display of power and hearing my vows—together with the support of the rest—chose to align themselves. Some remained neutral, and a few did not yield… but it was already too late.
Like the toll of a great bell, a spectral sound resounded throughout the house, reverberating directly in the minds of every member of the Black family.
The flames of the ritual circle surrounding Andromeda were extinguished in an instant, and a repentant silence filled the chamber.
The ritual had ended…
Andromeda felt all the weight upon her vanish in a single moment, along with the last of her strength. She lost her balance, about to collapse, but I caught her in my arms. She clung to me, breathless, eyes closed, but with a smile. It was as though, without speaking a word, she were telling me—or perhaps asking me:
"I... did it??!