The morning passed with little excitement. After Charms class with the Ravenclaws, Cael Vale was making his way back toward the Gryffindor dormitory, his mind lingering on the incantation Professor Flitwick had demonstrated—a particularly elegant application of the Severing Charm—when a familiar voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Mr. Vale."
Cael turned. Professor McGonagall stood at the intersection of two corridors, her robes perfectly pressed and her expression as unreadable as ever.
"Yes, Professor?"
"Someone wishes to see you." Her voice softened slightly, though it didn't lose its edge. "Your uncle. He's waiting near the lake."
Cael blinked. "My uncle? Who—"
"Sirius Black," she said quietly. "He's asked for you."
A strange interest rose in Cael's chest—somewhere between curiosity and uncertainty . He nodded slowly. "I'll go, Professor."
She stepped closer, her voice low and purposeful. "Mr. Vale… he's spent thirteen years in Azkaban. That's more than a lifetime in that place. Whatever he was before, he's different now. You're his family what little he has left. Perhaps you both could do some good for each other."
Cael looked at her, surprised by the note of quiet sincerity in her words. Then he gave a small, reluctant smile. "Sure, Professor. I'll do what I can."
As he made his way out of the castle and down the familiar path to the Black Lake, the summer breeze tugged gently at his robes. He spotted Sirius before long—standing near the water's edge, hands in his coat pockets, his silhouette dark and lean against the rippling silver of the lake.
Sirius turned as Cael approached. His eyes, though tired and sunken, gleamed with something sharp—suspicion, perhaps, or recognition.
"So," Sirius said, "you're Elara's boy."
Cael stopped a few feet away. "I am. You heard of me?"
"First time was in the Daily Prophet," Sirius muttered. "And then Dumbledore told me more. Said you didn't know you were a Black until recently."
"I didn't," Cael admitted. "Grew up with Muggles. I only learned the truth in my second year. Kreacher brought me to the old house…and your mother told me everything. Introduced me to my mother ."
At the mention, Sirius stiffened. "So she's still… there."
Cael's gaze drifted toward the lake. "Not alive. The real her died years ago—just a couple years after your imprisonment, actually."
Sirius let out a quiet exhale. "Figures. We didn't get along. She hated my interest in Muggles, thought I was a disgrace to the family. The last straw was when I was sorted into Gryffindor. From that day forward, she made the house a living hell."
"She wasn't exactly fond of you later either," Cael said with a faint smirk. "The first time I heard your name, she was yelling obscenities—sounded like she wanted to hex the memory of you."
Sirius chuckled, dry and bitter. "Yeah, sounds like her."
"I think she might've changed," Cael said softly. "The real person, I mean. People do, sometimes. She lost her only son. Maybe… if she'd lived long enough, she would've come around."
Sirius didn't answer. His gaze drifted, distant. "And Regulus?"
"I don't know. He's missing."
Sirius closed his eyes. "Damn."
A moment of silence passed between them.
"Did you ever know your mother?" Sirius asked quietly.
"No. She died giving birth to me. Never knew her. Until Kreacher showed up with and invited me to the black family house , I didn't know anything about the Blacks. Or Elara."
Sirius's brow furrowed. "For what reason he showed up ?"
Cael hesitated. "For An agreement."
Sirius stiffened. "What kind of agreement?"
"That… I would marry a pure-blood witch, and my first male child would be the next heir of the Black family."
Sirius's face darkened. "You shouldn't have agreed to that."
"I was desperate for answers," Cael said simply. "And your mother gave me access to the key to my mother's house … and information about her ."
"They'll twist your heir the same way they twisted the others," Sirius warned. "My cousins. My brother. They poison the bloodline with their madness."
"I have no intention of letting that happen," Cael said. "But you'll see for yourself. Let's go. Kreacher."
The house-elf appeared with a crack, bowing low. "Young master calls?"
"Yes. Take us to the Black manor."
Kreacher's beady eyes shifted to Sirius, and he sneered. "The bastard son returns. Oh, if Mistress saw this filth step foot in her house again…"
"Enough," Cael said calmly. "Take us."
Kreacher grumbled but reached out. Cael grabbed Sirius's hand. A moment later, they vanished.
They landed in the musty but oddly immaculate hallway of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. The house was quiet… like usual .
Sirius looked around, blinking. "I expected… cobwebs. Robbery. This place looks untouched ,Are you living here?."
"I don't live here," Cael said. "But I've come and gone for study. Kreacher keeps it clean."
From upstairs came a screeching voice: "Kreeeacher! You useless excuse for an elf! I'll have your head on the wall next to the traitors if I have to shout one more time!"
Kreacher shuffled off eagerly. "Mistress calls. Oh, what an honor it would be to hang next to my noble ancestors…"
Cael glanced at Sirius. "Shall we go greet your mother?"
Sirius groaned. "I think I preferred Azkaban."
They climbed the stairs and stepped into the drawing room where the portrait of Walburga Black glared at them with venom in her eyes.
"You!" she shrieked when she saw Sirius. "Traitor! Bastard son! I struck you from the family tree! You are no Black!"
"Crazy old bitch," Sirius muttered, rolling his eyes.
The room erupted into a chorus of insults—Sirius and the portrait flinging curses at one another while Cael hovered nearby with shining eyes, clearly pleased by the spectacle.
Cael watched silently, arms folded. Finally, when the shouting dulled, he stepped forward.
"I brought your son back," he said, eyes on the portrait. "He has Black blood. Our agreement is void."
The portrait narrowed its eyes. "The contract states a Black must return—by name, by right. He is disowned."
"But the blood remains," Cael said smoothly. "You yourself agreed that blood would suffice. And the magic agreed with me—the moment Sirius stepped into this house, I felt the contract shatter."
The portrait snarled, realizing she'd been outmaneuvered. "You sly little bastard. Just like your mother—manipulative and dishonorable!"
"I take that as a compliment," Cael said coolly. "And by the way—since my contract is void I am done with the heir nonsense, now your son will continue the bloodline ."
She screamed, livid. "Kreacher! Kill him! I order you to kill the boy!"
Kreacher twitched. But he didn't move.
"Do it!" she screamed again.
Sirius stepped forward, wand raised. "You'll do no such thing, you painted banshee!"
Still, Kreacher did nothing.
Cael gave a thin smile. "You forget—I'm still a Black. And you… you're just a memory in oil, a fading shadow on the wall. Technically, my authority outranks a shouting portrait. That's why Kreacher doesn't attack me. If I were a stranger, I'd already be dead."
The portrait fell into a storm of curses. But they meant nothing now.
After a long silence, Sirius exhaled and turned to Cael with a faint smile. "You played that well."
"Do you expect me to respect the woman who tormented my mother?" Cael said. "I used her for what I needed. That's all."
"She was kind, your mother," Sirius said softly. "Fierce, too. Never backed down. Even when she was hexed… tortured… she fought back. I admired her. But After Hogwarts I never saw her again , I tried to find her. But she disappeared."
"She became an Unspeakable," Cael said. "And died for it."
Sirius nodded grimly. "We've both had our share of pain."
He paused, glancing at the clock. "I need to go. James invited me—he wants me to meet Harry. They're using McGonagall's fireplace to travel home."
"Go," Cael said. "He's your godson."
Sirius paused at the door. "I don't know how to be an uncle. But if you ever need me… send an owl. I'll be there."
Cael smiled faintly. "You're not so bad at it."
Sirius grinned, then slipped away down the stairs.
Cael turned. "Kreacher?"
The elf appeared instantly. "Yes, young master?"
"I'm not your master anymore," Cael said. "He is."
Kreacher sniffed. "You have more Black in you than he does. I serve you with pride."
Cael sighed. "Take me back to Hogwarts."
And with a sharp crack, they vanished into the air.