A/N: Good news HP fans Release schedule for next month(Feb) will be 3 times a week instead of once a week. As always If you want to read ahead visit P@treon. Search 'Blaze98'. 7 chapter ahead there.
Blake's POV
By the time we left Gringotts, the weight of everything that had happened finally caught up to me.
We had fifteen minutes left—no more.
No vaults.
No shopping.
No wandering Diagon Alley like wide-eyed children anymore.
So instead, Alastair tugged me gently toward the nearest thing that still felt… normal.
Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour.
The bell above the door chimed cheerfully as we stepped inside, and for a few precious minutes, the world stopped being about bloodlines, vaults, and ancient names.
I got strawberry.
Alastair got vanilla with honeycomb.
We sat outside, feet swinging slightly above the cobblestones, eating in silence as witches and wizards passed by—laughing, arguing, living.
I watched Alastair more than the street.
He looked calmer than he had in the vaults… but different too. Straighter. Heavier somehow. Like something invisible had settled onto his shoulders and decided to stay.
When we finished, we walked back to the Gringotts gates and waited.
Right on time, Professor McGonagall appeared—robes crisp, posture immaculate, expression sharp enough to cut glass.
She looked us over once.
"You did not wander alone?" she asked.
"No, Professor," Alastair replied smoothly. "We stayed together."
A beat.
"Good."
And just like that, Diagon Alley vanished behind green flames.
Back at St. Mary's Orphanage
The orphanage felt… smaller after Gringotts.
Quieter.
The walls hadn't changed—but we had.
The moment we were back in our room, I practically bounced toward the trunk where our books were stored.
"I want to read the Charms book," I said, already reaching for it."And the wand movements—did you see how Kingsley flicked his wrist? And maybe we could—"
"Blake."
I stopped.
Alastair's voice wasn't sharp—but it was serious.
He sat on his bed, elbows resting on his knees, fingers loosely intertwined.
"I know you want to get back to studying spells," he said gently."I do too. But first… there's something we need to talk about."
My excitement drained instantly.
My face went serious without me even trying.
"…What did Kreacher tell you about the family?" he asked.
I swallowed.
"You want the full picture?" I said softly.
He nodded once.
I took a breath.
"I have a great-grandfather," I began.
Three aunts—one imprisoned, one married into the Malfoy family, one banished for marrying a muggleborn. One uncle—also imprisoned."
I paused.
"Except for the banished aunt… they're all blood purists. Different levels, but still. My great-grandfather is… strict. Solid. Loyal to family. Cold to outsiders."
I nodded slowly.
That matched what Kreacher had said.
"Okay," He said. "Then you should know—we can't tell them about your mother being muggleborn."
Alastair watched me closely.
I nodded again—more firmly this time.
"I know."
I smiled, but it didn't quite reach my eyes.
Ever since the adoption incident… trusting people didn't come easily anymore.Not adults.Not families.
Except Alastair.
He noticed. Of course he did.
"Kreacher will inform him tonight," Alastair continued. "He'll probably come tomorrow. So tonight—don't focus on spells."
I frowned.
"Then what?"
"Noble etiquette," he said simply. "Reread it. Titles. Body language. When to speak. When not to. It'll help."
I sighed—but nodded.
"Okay."
The Next Day
I woke up before sunrise.
Nerves.
I dressed carefully—in the simple wizard robe we'd bought second-hand the day before. It wasn't fancy, but it was clean, pressed, and mine.
Near noon, the matron knocked on the door.
"Blake," she said hesitantly. "There's… a gentleman here to see you."
She looked confused. Uneasy.
"He says he's family."
My heart jumped into my throat.
Alastair stood immediately.
"I'll come with you," he said.
I didn't argue.
Meeting Arcturus Black
He was waiting in the lounge.
A tall man in a dark green three-piece suit, silver-threaded but immaculate. His beard was neatly trimmed, his posture rigid despite his age.
He looked… powerful.
Seventy, maybe—but solid. Like nothing short of a war would bend him.
His eyes landed on me first.
Then—on Alastair.
Something dark flickered there.
Not anger.
Disdain.
Then he looked back at me.
"So," he said evenly. "You are Blake."
I swallowed and bowed the way I'd practiced.
"Lord Black," I greeted, voice steady. "It's an honor."
He nodded once.
"Come. Sit."
I did.
His gaze stayed lingered on Alastair for a moment, flash of hatred towards muggleborns. Then his gaze landed on me this time.
"What made you take an inheritance test?" he asked bluntly.
"If it had failed, you would've been in serious debt."
I didn't flinch.
"Sir," I said, choosing my words carefully,
"I was left at this orphanage without a name, a letter, or anything to explain my origins. I could do strange things—magic—before I even knew what it was."
I clasped my hands in my lap.
"My friend's magic was always… violent. Mine was calm. It followed my intent. When I learned inheritance tests existed, I had to take it."
I met his eyes.
"I needed to know my blood. No matter the cost."
Something shifted.
Approval.
"You may call me Grandfather," he said slowly.
"Now… we should speak elsewhere. Family matters are not discussed before outsiders."
His eyes flicked pointedly toward Alastair.
My chest tightened.
Before I could respond—
"Al can stay."
Both of them looked at me.
"He's been my friend since childhood," I added firmly.
Arcturus's expression darkened.
Clearly unimpressed.
A muggleborn advocate.
Before he could speak—
Alastair stepped forward, placing a hand over his chest.
"Lord Black," he said calmly,
"It was my negligence."
Arcturus's brow lifted slightly—approval flickering.
'At least boy had brains.'
But then Alastair continued.
"She needs emotional support at a moment like this. I believe that matters."
He straightened.
"Oh—and forgive me. I haven't introduced myself."
He bowed—precise, respectful, controlled.
"I am Alastair Caelum Salvius–P.
Son of Caelum Salvius and Evelyn P."
Silence fell like a blade.
Arcturus Black stared at him.
And for the first time since walking into the room—
The ancient head of the Black family looked truly surprised.
And I realized something with sudden clarity:
Whatever came next…Today wasn't just about me anymore.
The storm was already forming.
__________________________
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