Chapter Text
March 1980 - Chateau Delenoir, Calais, France
Cassiopeia Black was tired. Worn-out, dirty, and bone-achingly tired. She leaned back on the fireplace’s mantle in the floo parlour and sighed deeply. She really had to do more research into better international travel methods. Chain apparating through Peru, portkeys from Lima to Miami, then Miami to New York, and one international floo journey home, and she was thoroughly exhausted. She picked herself up and crossed the room, entering the main hall.
“Bippy!” She called, vanishing the soot from her clothing with a wave of her hand.
The elf appeared promptly, ears fluttering and eyes wide with excitement.
“Mistress Cassie is home!” The elf squeaked happily.
“Yes, I am and far too tired for anything other than a hot bath and a long nap,” Cassiopeia responded with a weary sigh edged with agitation. She rubbed her temples, feeling the oncoming migraine from sustained magical travel. She never liked international portkeys.
“Please unpack my trunk and prepare a bath for me. I haven’t had a proper one in quite some time.”
“Yes, Mistress Cassie!” The elf squeaked back, ears still aflutter.
Cassiopeia looked at her long-time house elf with a bemused smile and tilted her head, wondering aloud at the elf’s excitement.
“Mistress has not seen the new baby Black?” Bippy asked, confused about her mistress’ lack of knowledge.
Cassiopeia stiffened in alarm, and she fixed Bippy with a look. There were no new babies, none that she knew of anyway. Narcissa and Lily weren’t due for months.
“What ‘new baby Black’, Bippy?” Cassiopeia asked, arching her brow. “It is too early for Narcissa or Lily to have delivered successfully.”
Bippy’s ears drooped slightly, and she looked at her mistress, perplexed.
“Missy Cissy and Missy Dorey’s son’s wifes is still having babies. Bippy is talking about Missy Helen.”
“Helen? Wh-” Cassiopeia questioned, bewildered. The elf continued rambling before she could ask who this Helen woman was.
“Bippy is not sure who or where Missy Helen is, but Bippy saw the carvings when Gimby was cleaning the rituals rooms. There the new baby Black was with Missy Helen. Such a pretty little heiress, yes she is!” Bippy ended her ramblings with a joyful little bounce.
“Heiress?” Cassiopeia said, her voice faint. She turned immediately and rushed to their family ritual space.
Entering a seemingly nondescript storage closet off the kitchen, she drew her wand and touched the tip of it against the stones, opening the door to the family ritual circle. As a true-blooded member of the Black family, she passed easily through the wards and hurried around the circle and stones to the back of the room.
The entire wall was covered in an intricate carving detailing the Black line from its foundation to the present. Magick recorded every birth, death, bonding, marriage— even adoptions — in stone. The wall was an incorruptible, tangled web of charm and ritual work so ancient that even the greatest scholars of their time would struggle to replicate it. And the one she stood before wasn’t even the original— merely a mirror of the Manor Wall in Scotland.
Cassiopeia pressed her palm against the stone, pushing a small amount of her magic into the wall, and watched her own portrait and name glow softly, along with her direct ancestral line. She traced her sibling’s faces in remembrance before focusing on the task at hand. Continuing to her right, she stopped as she neared the east wall. There, in plain view, was indeed a baby. A girl, to be exact. One Hermione Jean Granger, born September 19th of the previous year, no less! And what was more, from her, a new family line flowed to the left!
The once tired, now confused Black witch followed this line as it flowed from baby Hermione to the portrait of who must’ve been her mother, the Helen Bippy mentioned earlier. Then, from Helen to her apparent father, Atlas, and then his father, Arcturus Black III.
Cassiopeia gasped audibly and almost dropped her wand. She blinked rapidly to clear her vision and dispel the shock. The shock, of course, could not be dispelled. Arcturus had a son. A son that was not born to him by Melania Macmillan, his wife of almost 60 years. The boy’s, well, man’s mother was one Dionissia Galanis.
“Galanis? Certainly not the Grecian Galanis’...” But what other Galanises were there? Cassiopeia shook her head. And yet, there it was in plain view. Arcturus shared a child and a long-broken marriage bond with the woman.
Thinking back to Bippy’s chatter, she tightened her fingers around her wand and murmured a spell highlighting the Head of House and their line. She watched as Arcturus’ portrait glowed faintly in gold, meaning he was still alive, a relief truly because she had many questions that needed answering. Putting aside thoughts of her future inquisitions, she followed the gold line as it flowed from Arcturus to Atlas and turned silver, meaning the boy was a squib. The line remained silver as it flowed from Atlas to Helen but then turned a bright, radiant gold as Hermione was illuminated.
“Hecate and Morgana,” Cassiopeia breathed, sinking down against the eastern wall.
Her mind raced, running through the implications of Hermione’s birth and the revelation of Arcturus’ past. She had so many questions and very few answers. One thing was certain. The baby was magical, and she would be the next Lady Black.
Cassiopeia took a moment to try and collect her thoughts and gain a semblance of composure. She took a deep breath, then another, and picked herself up from the stone floor. After dusting herself off, she looked at the wall and lifted her chin. She needed a plan.
But first: tea.
***
“Bippy!” Cassiopeia called, walking out of the ritual room.
The elf appeared at her side swiftly and followed behind her as she marched to her study.
“A light tea repast in my study, if you will and then lock down the house,” Cassiopeia ordered. “Close the floo, as well,” she added as an afterthought.
“Bad peoples coming?” Bippy asked with concern.
“No,” her mistress answered, “I just need to think without disruption or distraction.”
“Oh,” Bippy said. “Thinking tea? Or plotting tea?”
“Plotting”, Cassiopeia answered with a slight grin. Her elf was entirely too intuitive.
“Mistress has seen the new baby Black on the familys wall?”
“I have indeed, Bippy, and I have a great many things to plan.” She flung open the doors to her study and rounded her desk. Sitting behind the mahogany desk, she pulled out several rolls of parchment. Letters had to be written, but who to write first?
After seeing her settle in, Bippy nodded and popped away to prepare tea and sandwiches. Fifteen minutes later, she popped back in with the requested repast. Her mistress was sealing a letter and giving instructions to her eagle owl, Julien.
“— straight to Kassandra Galanis, thank you. Let no one else have it and stay until you have a response, if you will.” Cassiopeia commanded the owl. Julien hooted firmly in response. Cassiopeia gave him a treat, a loving stroke, and the letter and watched as he flew out of the window.
Bippy floated the tea onto her mistress’ desk and hopped onto the small stool near the wall after grabbing a sandwich. She watched as her mistress poured herself a cup of tea with one cream and two sugars. Plotting time, indeed. Cassiopeia sat back and watched Julien’s fading figure on the horizon.
“What will Mistress Cassie do now?” Bippy asked, intrigued by the witch she had served for over 20 years.
“Nothing,” Cassiopeia responded, bemused.
“Nothing?” Bippy questioned.
“Nothing,” Cassiopeia reaffirmed. “The truth will out itself in time. It always does.”
The truth would indeed out itself, and when it did, everything would change.