Sirius stood on the sprawling front lawn of Blacktide, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his robes as he gazed up at the ancient stone edifice.
It was March, the very dawn of spring, though the bite of late winter still hung heavy in the air. A crisp, biting wind rolled off the cliffs, and patches of lingering frost clung to the shaded, damp grass. Sirius exhaled a long breath, watching the faint plume of white mist vanish into the cold air before glancing over at the children.
Near the shadowed edge of the woods, Lyra and Luna were huddled close together in their heavy wool cloaks and fur-trimmed scarves, whispering softly to one another. Luna was pointing dreamily into the empty air, chattering about invisible Wrackspurts floating in the breeze, while Lyra's gray eyes drifted toward the tree line.
A little further down the lawn, the boys were in full chaotic motion. Rigel and Corvus were leading Draco and Justin on a raucous "scout mission" through the muddy outskirts of the grounds, playing pretend guardians. Armed with fallen pine branches as wands, they shouted tactical orders to one another, ducking behind stone benches to defend the castle perimeter from imaginary intruders.
Meanwhile, Alphard, bundled up tightly in a heavy coat, was toddling unsteadily through the frost-dusted grass. An attentive house-elf hovered just a few feet behind him, ready to catch him if he tumbled. The toddler was utterly captivated by the tiny embers of light flickering around the castle walls.
Sirius glanced back up at the castle.
High above, visible only to those tuned into the subtle currents of magic, tiny bursts of starlight-like embers flickered across the stone walls. The Delacroix ritualists were deep at work, weaving Le Cercle de l'Ombre through every corridor, tower, and foundation stone to purge the grounds of wandering spirits and grant Lyra a safe sanctuary.
Sirius wasn't alone. Marie Delacroix stood beside him, her eyes tracing the majestic silhouette of the estate.
"You were certainly not exaggerating, Heir Black," Marie observed softly, a faint, impressed smile on her lips. "It truly is a grand castle."
"Hmm," Sirius hummed, glancing over at her with a gentle smirk.
He noticed her cradling her already-showing belly.
"I am surprised you were able to travel here despite your condition," Sirius remarked, his tone softening. "Most healers recommend avoiding long-distance travel during pregnancy."
Marie chuckled softly, her dark eyes crinkling with warmth. "Oui, Étienne insisted we delay our trip, but I felt strongly that we must complete the ritual first. I wanted to ensure young Lyra finally had a peaceful sanctuary where she could sleep without unwanted visitors."
Sirius nodded in quiet gratitude. "The enchanted armband you provided has helped immensely. She's been far less sluggish during the day and can finally sleep through the night without waking up terrified. Though... I understand it isn't ideal for her to wear it continuously."
"It isn't," Marie confirmed, her expression turning earnest. "The armband is merely a temporary shield. Wearing it constantly will dull her natural sight and cause her spiritual aura to stagnate. It repels the dead by suppressing her magical resonance, but a medium's magic must breathe. Once Le Cercle de l'Ombre takes full effect across the estate grounds, she will be able to take it off entirely while she is home, allowing her abilities to rest and integrate safely without interference."
Marie looked down at her hands, smooth, unblemished, and free of the dark, pulsing decay that had threatened to take her life just two months ago.
"Rest assured that the details of the transfer ritual were never written down," Marie said quietly, her tone solemn and sincere. "I have locked the memory securely away in my mind. The magic you gave me will stay buried with me until the day I die. Mon Dieu, I owe you my life."
Sirius nodded in appreciation. "Thank you. My grandfather would have my head mounted on a wall if he ever learned I shared an illegal Black family ritual with an outsider."
"And my elders would flay me alive if they discovered the ancient warding secrets I passed to you," Marie replied, a wry glint in her eyes.
The two exchanged a low, shared chuckle.
Marie turned her gaze toward the open lawn, where childish laughter echoed through the crisp spring air.
"You have such a wonderful family, Heir Black," she said softly, her eyes warm. "Ils sont magnifiques."
"Thank you, Madam Delacroix," Sirius replied, a deep, quiet pride swelling in his chest.
"Please," Marie urged gently, looking up at him. "After everything we have been through... s'il vous plaît, you must call me Marie."
Sirius offered a warm smile. "Then you may call me Sirius."
Marie nodded, her gaze drifting toward the misty treeline at the edge of the estate.
"I assisted young Lyra down near the bog, as you requested," Marie said, her voice turning thoughtful. "There was a spirit lingering near the stagnant waters. A man, a poor soul who met a rather grim end. He was bludgeoned to death by his own brother in a dispute over their inheritance."
Sirius frowned slightly, his Auror instincts pricking up. "And he was bound to the bog because of it?"
"Oui, unfinished business," Marie explained. "He refused to cross over until he knew what had become of the brother who murdered him. Lyra and I asked other spirits to trace the brother's fate, and they brought back the answer."
"And what happened to the brother?" Sirius asked, curious despite himself.
A quiet, amused smirk played on Marie's lips. "Ah, bon sang... something ridiculously foolish, though ultimately fatal. A few years after the murder, the brother was celebrating his stolen wealth at a tavern. In his drunkenness, he tried to show off by swallowing a whole, live toad for a galleon. The toad panicked, lodged itself firmly in his throat, and suffocated him right on the tavern floor."
Sirius blinked, staring at her for a second before a startled laugh escaped him. "He choked on a toad?"
"A live one, no less," Marie hummed, her eyes crinkling with dry humor. "The spirit in the bog found the irony so utterly magnificent that he burst into laughter, satisfied that karma had handled his justice for him. He moved on peacefully right after."
Sirius shook his head with a quiet chuckle, looking back toward the kids playing in the grass. "Well... I suppose that's one way to resolve a murder."
"Five centuries of waiting, brought to an end by a panicked toad," Marie mused softly.
"Five centuries? That's a long time to linger."
Marie's expression softened, growing gentle and reverent as she looked toward the shadowy tree line. "The burned woman, however,... her story was far more tragic. She was a victim of the Muggle witch trials centuries ago."
"Oh," Sirius murmured, his lighthearted mood dimming into quiet respect.
"She was bound to the earth not by malice, but by grief and fear," Marie explained. "When we spoke to her, she seemed deeply peaceful, but she is simply not ready to move on just yet."
Sirius looked at her, curious. "Why stay, then, if she's at peace?"
"Because she feels a protective calling to this land despite the tragedy," Marie replied, a soft smile on her face. "When Lyra approached her, the spirit didn't see a stranger. She saw a young magical girl who needed protecting. She told us she wishes to remain as a silent guardian over the estate grounds, to ensure no harm ever comes to a child of magic again."
Sirius felt a profound warmth settle in his chest as he glanced over at Lyra, who was laughing as she chased Rigel across the grass.
"A guardian spirit..." Sirius said softly, bowing his head in quiet gratitude toward the distant woods. "Then she is more than welcome to make Blacktide her sanctuary for as long as she needs."
Marie paused, her tone shifting into something more serious. "Sirius, écoute-moi, there is something else I need to discuss with you."
"What is it?"
"Do you recall the raid? The one where you rescued your daughter?"
Sirius's smile faded instantly. Even though months had passed, the memory of nearly losing Lyra still sent a sharp, cold spike of terror through his chest. "What of it?"
"Some spirits have taken notice," Marie said carefully.
Sirius frowned, his eyebrows pulling together. "Spirits? Am I haunted?"
Marie let out a low chuckle. "Non, Sirius. Not in that way. But one spirit in particular approached me. She told me she recognized the way you manipulated magic during that fight."
"Recognized it? Recognized what?"
"She claimed you wield Ancient Magic, the raw, foundational magic from centuries past, not merely the ancestral blood magic most of us use."
Sirius stared at her, a cold stillness settling over him. This was precisely why mediums were feared, why Ministries across the globe sought to register and regulate them. They saw secrets that the living kept buried.
Noticing his sudden tension, Marie held up a gentle hand. "Rest assured, Sirius, I will not speak a word of this to anyone. Je te le promets. I owe you far too much to ever betray your trust."
Sirius relaxed a fraction, giving a small, appreciative nod. "Thank you."
"That spirit died before the Great War, after emigrating to the New World, though she was originally a British witch," Marie continued. "She told me that if you have passed the trials, then you are worthy."
Sirius blinked, thoroughly baffled. "Trials? What trials?"
"Je ne sais pas. She refused to elaborate," Marie admitted with a shrug. "She only mentioned that back in the late nineteenth century, there was a wizard at Hogwarts who possessed the rare ability to see and wield Ancient Magic. He was her close friend, but he vanished mysteriously after the new century. No one ever discovered what became of him."
"And this spirit wants me to look into his disappearance?"
"Oui. And she asked me to pass this along to you." Marie reached into her robes and produced a substantial, rounded wooden box, roughly the size of a hatbox, adorned with intricate, flowing metalwork that resembled intertwining tree roots.
"What is it?" Sirius asked, taking the heavy box into his hands.
"I do not know. I cannot open it," Marie replied.
Sirius ran a thumb over the polished metal framing the wood. The pale luster was unmistakable. "Is this goblin silver?"
"It appears to be."
Sirius winced slightly. "My business agreements with the Goblin Nation require me to return any newly discovered items of goblin manufacture directly to them."
"I suggest you solve whatever puzzle lies inside before handing it over," Marie advised dryly.
"Hmm. I suppose Ragnok will end up charging me a rental fee for it anyway," Sirius muttered with a faint grin.
Marie raised an eyebrow. "Ragnok?"
"He's the Director of the Goblin Nation," Sirius explained. "He's quite fond of my wife. As for me? I think he merely tolerates my existence because of Esme."
Marie looked at him with genuine curiosity. "And what is this 'rental fee' you speak of?"
"Ah, well... I might have been the one who suggested that whole arrangement to them," Sirius said, rubbing the back of his neck. "You know how goblins believe everything they manufacture remains their eternal property, even if commissioned, while wizards believe purchasing an item confers absolute ownership? It caused centuries of bloody feuds and goblin rebellions. So, I suggested a compromise. Lease-holding. The wizard pays a recurring fee to use the item, while the goblins retain legal ownership. That way, wizards get their artifacts, goblins get their principles, and a steady monthly income. And when the contract is due, they get the returned items back to their nation."
Sirius stopped, realizing Marie was staring at him with wide, unblinking eyes.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked weakly.
Marie let out a long, incredulous sigh, shaking her head. "Ciel... so you are the one."
Sirius blinked. "What?"
"There has been an absolute uproar across the Atlantic!" Marie declared, half-amused, half-dumbfounded. "Gringotts branches in the States began enforcing these absurd rental contracts. Buyers were furious. They wanted to buy goblin silver outright! MACUSA and international governments had to step in, but the goblins stood completely firm on the legal precedent. Hardly anyone was happy about it!"
Sirius offered a sheepish, thoroughly unrepentant grin. "I'm... sorry?"
Marie chuckled softly, looking at him with renewed amusement. "Do not apologize, Sirius. Outrageous as it is, you managed to resolve a centuries-old diplomatic deadlock that caused multiple wars. No one else had ever thought to treat goblin craft like a leased property."
"Oh," Sirius hummed, glancing back down at the heavy hatbox in his hands. "Did the spirit happen to give you her name?"
"She did not. Spirits rarely share their names. But her name is inscribed directly onto the box," Marie said, gesturing toward the smooth wooden lid. "The box was stored in a private property she once owned in the States. Before she moved on, she told me where to find it so I could retrieve it for you."
Sirius carefully turned the box over in his hands. Beneath the sunlight, tracing along the delicate silver lining near the lock, intricate goblin-forged letters revealed a name: Anne Sallow.
"Anne Sallow?" Sirius murmured, repeating the name slowly as he ran his thumb across the raised silver lettering. "Never heard of her, but her family name seems familiar."
He looked up, a familiar glint of curiosity and determination kindling in his gray eyes. "I suppose I'll start looking into it as soon as I get a moment to spare."
Marie nodded approvingly. "Bonne chance, Sirius. I have a feeling whatever lies within that box, and whatever happened to her friend from Hogwarts, is tied deeply to the legacy you carry."
"Ah, Heir Black!"
A vibrant, familiar voice called out across the lawn. Sirius and Marie turned to see Étienne walking briskly toward them, his tailored robes catching the crisp breeze. He looked remarkably lighter and happier than the last time Sirius had seen him, the shadow of his wife's near-fatal curse fully lifted from his shoulders.
"Étienne," Marie greeted her husband with a warm, affectionate smile.
Étienne approached the two, but he was not alone. Flanking him were two strangers, a man and a woman in their mid-thirties. Both had dark hair, sharp bone structure, and deep, observant eyes, though their relaxed postures and subtle mannerisms carried a distinct American air.
"I bring our guests," Étienne said, turning to present the pair to Sirius with a flourish. "Heir Black, allow me to introduce Zaria Bernardo and her brother, Luka. They hail from a respected Romani lineage, though they were raised in the States. Like our family, and your sweet Lyra, they walk with the dead."
Sirius stepped forward, extending a hand to each of them in welcome. "It's a pleasure to meet you both. Welcome to Blacktide."
Luka shook Sirius's hand with a firm, respectful grip. "The pleasure is ours, Heir Black. We've heard much about your family."
"All good, I hope?" Sirius asked with a dry grin.
"Well..." Luka started, biting back a chuckle.
"I'm joking. I know what people say about my family," Sirius laughed lightly before softening his tone. "In all seriousness, I want to thank you both for taking the time to mentor my daughter."
Zaria offered a polite nod, her eyes drifting toward the ancient castle and the shimmering ward embers above. "We should be the ones thanking you for hiring us, Heir Black. It's rare to find a noble house willing to open its doors to our kind, let alone offer us protection. We are deeply grateful for the invitation."
Sirius frowned slightly, confused. "Your kind? What do you mean by that?"
Unlike their non-magical counterparts in the Muggle world, the Romani people remained highly respected in the magical community for their ancient bloodlines and their psychic gifts. Sirius couldn't fathom why they felt marginalized.
"Well..." Zaria hesitated.
"We are half-bloods, sir," Luka answered plainly.
Sirius shrugged. "There's nothing wrong with that. I know plenty of half-bloods. Many of my closest friends are."
"Yes, but the families we come from frown upon unions outside their own lines," Zaria explained softly. "Not to mention, the person our mother fell in love with was a No-Maj."
"MACUSA nearly imprisoned our mother when they found out," Luka added, his jaw tightening slightly. "It took years of intense vetting and strict legal oversight to ensure our non-magical parent would never compromise the International Statute of Secrecy."
Sirius grimaced, nodding in understanding. While MACUSA wasn't bogged down by the same blood-purity prejudice as Europe, their enforcement of secrecy laws was notoriously ruthless, especially regarding No-Maj relations.
"Well," Sirius said firmly, placing a reassuring hand on Luka's shoulder. "You're in Britain now. I'm not going to pretend there is no prejudice against half-bloods here. There certainly is, especially among high nobility like my own family. But you are under the employment of the House of Black, and we ensure our people are well protected."
"Thank you, Heir Black," the siblings said in unison, offering him a polite, grateful bow.
Sirius suddenly paused, a look of realization crossing his face as he blinked at Luka. "Wait a moment. Étienne mentioned two mediums, but I was under the impression that there are no male mediums."
"There aren't, as far as I know, Heir Black," Zaria replied with a subtle, affectionate smile toward her brother. "I am the medium. My brother comes as a package deal. Where I go, he goes. Some people assume he is a medium because of his field of work. He's a coroner."
"A registered one," Luka added with a dry grin. "In both the No-Maj world and MACUSA. Dealing with dead bodies and unraveling how they died happens to be my specialty. So, while Zaria teaches young Lyra how to speak with the departed and guard her spirit, I can teach her how to understand the physical reality of death and keep a level head around it."
Sirius looked between the two, a slow, approving smile forming on his lips. "A medium and a coroner... I must say, as far as mentors go, my daughter couldn't be in better hands."
Later that afternoon, after reviewing and finalizing the details of their employment contract over warm tea in the parlor, the conversation turned toward practical arrangements.
"Now that the contract is signed, we'll start looking for a place to board nearby," Luka mentioned, setting down his parchment. "Somewhere within reasonable distance of Blacktide so we can come by daily for Lyra's lessons."
"Nonsense," Sirius interjected smoothly. "You can stay here."
Zaria blinked, caught off guard, while Luka offered a polite but firm smile. "Heir Black, while we deeply appreciate your hospitality, we don't think it's entirely appropriate for us to live inside your personal residence."
"Ah, forgive me," Sirius chuckled, holding up a hand. "I tend to forget. Due to security wards, having non-family members reside directly inside the main castle isn't permitted anyway. I didn't mean living in the castle, nor do you need to hunt for a cottage in a distant hamlet."
Sirius leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "The closest wizarding settlement is quite a distance away, and the nearest Muggle town would be an absolute nightmare for you. Establishing a Floo connection in a Muggle area requires a mountain of Ministry paperwork and endless bureaucracy, and it's expensive and utterly tiresome. Nearly half of your wage would go on Floo fees alone if you settled in the closest hamlet, because of the distance."
He motioned toward the window facing the valley below. "Instead, you can live in the town just below the castle. While surveying the estate, I discovered the stone foundations of an old medieval village at the foot of the cliff, likely built by the original lords of the castle centuries ago. I've begun rebuilding it to serve as a proper village for the estate's human employees and retainers."
A glimmer of excitement shone in Sirius's gray eyes. "It seems the two of you will be my very first residents. I'll have a comfortable house prepared for you right away. I'm already planning paved roads down the hillside so traveling by foot or carriage will be effortless."
He added with a conspiratorial smirk, "Of course, you could always fly, but Blacktide's perimeter is locked down under strict anti-apparition and anti-flying wards. If you take to the sky on a broom, you'll have to land just outside the main gates anyway."
Luka and Zaria exchanged a brief, astonished glance before looking back at Sirius with genuine gratitude.
"A newly built home right at the foot of the estate?" Luka smiled, shaking his head in mild awe. "Heir Black, that is far more generous than anything we could have hoped for."
"Call it a perk of working for the House of Black," Sirius said with a wink.
*****
Later that evening, Esme stood by the grand arched window in their quarters, looking toward the darkened valley below. A small flicker of light marked the first restored cottage, where the newly housed Bernardo siblings were settling in for the night. She turned to stare at Sirius; her arms crossed over her chest.
"Are you completely sure about this?" Esme asked, raising a delicate eyebrow.
Sirius unbuttoned his collar, giving her a confident smile. "I am very sure."
"Sirius, that village foundation is massive," Esme pointed out, her tone a mix of disbelief and fond amusement. "If you rebuild the entire footprint, it will be bigger than Hogsmeade. It could literally become a town."
"Yes," Sirius agreed readily, tossing his coat over the back of an armchair. "And considering the number of people I plan on hiring, it will need to be."
Esme tilted her head, analyzing him. "I'm mostly surprised your grandfather didn't talk you out of it. I highly doubt he is pleased with your sudden turn into merchant endeavors and real estate development."
"Oh, he looked at me like I'd completely lost my mind," Sirius said with a wry grin. "He kept muttering that the House of Black already has more wealth than three generations could spend, so why on earth was I turning us into industrial managers?"
"And what did you tell him?"
"I told him this isn't just a whim," Sirius replied, moving away from the armchair and resting his hands on the back of another chair. "Ever since I spent time with Uncle Marius, seeing how he built a life and made his own way outside of our world it changed how I looked at everything. Aristocrats are supposed to make investments and build legacy, aren't they? But sitting on a pile of gold in fine robes, drinking firewhisky and waiting for the next threat to show up... that's not building a legacy. That's just waiting to be overthrown. What I planned out, what I'm building down there... that is mine."
Esme's expression softened. "Well, if you are sure... Though I admit, your idea for a centralized potion facility would certainly help with the systemic potion shortages the wizarding world is plagued by."
"That's because the whole industry is built on individual pride and chaotic supply chains," Sirius scoffed softly. "Right now, every potioneer works in isolation, risking their lives foraging for rare ingredients or selling inconsistent brews to roaming merchants who jack up the prices. It's inefficient and dangerous."
He nodded toward the dark valley, his voice steady. "If we centralize production on Blacktide land and provide real jobs, decent housing, proper safety, and a steady supply line, we solve the shortages and build something unbreakable right at our doorstep."
Esme offered him a warm smile as Sirius crossed to the window and stood beside her, and they both looked out over the darkened grounds; partners bound by shared goals, family, and fierce resolve.
"Then I suppose we have a town to build, Heir Black," Esme said softly.
Sirius chuckled, looking out into the night. "I guess we do."