The Black Ancestral Hall was grand. Opulence and luxury went hand in hand, every inch of the space designed to remind its guests exactly who they were and why they mattered.
All the major families were present. Everyone of consequence had attended.
And amid the practiced smiles and polite laughter stood a boy who was… deeply distressed.
It had started with his godmother.
Narcissa Malfoy, née Black. Recently married. Currently, the bane of his existence.
She had begun by pinching his cheeks. Then, with malicious efficiency, introduced him to a small gathering of other serial cheek-pinchers. By the time she was done, his hairstyle was a mess, his cheeks were flushed red, and his dignity lay somewhere near the bottom of the Black family tapestry.
His trusted familiar had bolted the moment they entered the hall. Since then, Corvus had been reduced to little more than a glorified showpiece, paraded about and enthusiastically manhandled by housewives and teenage witches alike.
At least Narcissa handled all discussions of betrothal with ruthless efficiency, slipping into her well-practiced social butterfly persona and redirecting conversations before they could become truly dangerous.
Unfortunately, he still hadn't managed to meet his godfather.
Finally, he asked directly.
"Aunt," Corvus said politely, "is my Godfather here? When can I meet him?"
"Oh?" Narcissa laughed lightly. "You wish to abandon your lovely godmother already? How cruel of you, my Corvus."
"Aunt, please don't misunderstand," Corvus replied smoothly. "It is always a pleasure to be with you. It's just… those other ladies lack a sense of propriety. They possess neither your charm nor your beauty."
Narcissa laughed again, clearly delighted.
"Such a silver tongue, my godson," she said. "It surprises me how my brute of a sister and that brick of a brother-in-law managed to produce such a charming child."
"Maybe they're powerful enough not to care at all," Corvus continued calmly, "whereas I only have this in my repertoire. Besides, I haven't uttered a single falsehood, Godmother."
He tilted his head slightly, eyes earnest.
"You look like a goddess of beauty. If a Muggle were to see you, they might mistake you for a deity walking the earth. If someone from India saw you, they'd probably take your picture and start sermons so the Goddess of Beauty and Charm would bless them as well." He paused, then added lightly, "I even noticed some grown men whispering 'Damn, Lucius' after meeting you. They must be feeling incredibly jealous."
Corvus was at his charming best.
"My, my," Narcissa said, clearly pleased. "Such sweet words. I pity the women when you grow up."
She turned sharply. "Now then, let's see where your Godfather is. Kreacher!"
Pop.
Kreacher appeared at once. He, too, was dressed in a neat, butler-esque suit. The Black family clearly took their status seriously, especially when it came to the presentation of their house-elves. Corvus hadn't realized his small suggestion would influence the Blacks as well.
"Yes, young Mistress Narcissa?" Kreacher asked.
"Kreacher, tell Regulus that his godson is missing him and wishes to meet," Narcissa said. After a moment's thought, she added, "Better yet, take Corvus to him yourself."
"Of course, noble young Mistress," Kreacher replied. "Kreacher will take noble young Master Corvus to noble Master Regulus."
"Off you go, Godson," Narcissa said with a smile. "Don't miss me too much while you're with your Godfather."
With that, she pinched his cheeks once again and returned to her gossip circle.
For the past half hour, Corvus's ears had been assaulted by scandal after scandal. Who was sleeping with whom. Who might secretly be in love with a Muggle-born. How terrible Dumbledore was. How glorious the Dark Lord was.
Honestly, Corvus was exhausted.
Thankfully, Kreacher soon led him away, through quieter corridors, until they reached a counter tucked away from the crowd.
There, sitting alone with a drink in hand, was his godfather.
Regulus Black.
Regulus was dressed in a dark green robe, richly embroidered and set with green sapphires that caught the light subtly. Despite the finery, his eyes looked hollow, as though he hadn't slept properly in days. There was a melancholy about him, the air of someone lost in thoughts of love long gone, or perhaps a dreamy poet weighed down by regret.
"Master Regulus," Kreacher announced, "Young Master Corvus wished to meet you, so Kreacher has brought him here."
"Godfather," Corvus said immediately, clasping his hands together in exaggerated relief, "I was in dire need of your assistance and an escape. I foresaw scars upon my cheeks and certain death had I spent even one more minute among those ladies. Or worse, my ears might have fallen off from all the useless gossip plaguing my mind. I am quite certain I would have grown dumber had I stayed another moment."
Regulus blinked.
Then he laughed.
It was soft, surprised, and perhaps the first genuine smile he'd worn in quite some time.
"Ha," he said. "Corvus, my godson… how are you?" He studied the boy fondly. "You must be terribly bored here, aren't you? I remember my first time at these gatherings as well. They were unbearably dull. My brother, Sirius, then—"
He stopped.
The light faded from his eyes, his expression clouding once more.
As if on cue, Corvus jumped in before the silence could deepen.
"Godfather! Godfather!" he exclaimed eagerly. "Could you please teach me how to fly a broomstick? Everyone says you're the best Quidditch player Hogwarts has ever seen. The Gryffindors can only stop you if they gang up together!" He leaned forward, eyes wide, voice pleading. "Please, Godfather. Please?"
He even pulled the face. The one children used when they desperately wanted a sweet.
Regulus stared at him for a moment.
Then, despite himself, the corner of his lips twitched upward again.
And just like that, for the first time that evening, the weight on his shoulders eased—if only a little.
"If your mother catches me teaching you how to fly like that, she'd have my hide," Regulus said with a faint smile.
"I don't think she'd care enough," Corvus replied quietly. "She and Father are completely devoted to this Dark Lord business. They don't even have time to see me. I've been staying with Grandpa in France." He hesitated, then continued, voice softer but honest. "Nevertheless… could you please teach me, Godfather? Father wouldn't care. Mother even less so. They only care about how proper I look, whether I would please the Dark Lord. Nobody gives a damn about what I care about."
He swallowed.
"Except maybe my grandfather. Even he's been especially strict this year, ever aince I woke my magic. Potions exhaust me. Occlumency leaves me with headaches. Runes and history just bore me senseless." He looked up, eyes wide. "Please, Godfather. Won't you teach me how to fly?"
He finished with a pair of very convincing puppy-dog eyes.
Regulus studied him for a long moment. Then he reached out and ruffled Corvus's hair.
"Alright," he said softly. "Let's go, my godson. I'm free anyway. I'll teach you the ropes and make sure you're the best flyer before you even reach Hogwarts."
He straightened slightly and called out, "Kreacher! Get two broomsticks ready. It's time I taught my godson the finer points of becoming an extraordinary flyer."
"Right away, Master Regulus," Kreacher replied, vanishing with a pop.
"Yes!" Corvus exclaimed, perhaps a little too enthusiastically.
But he didn't care.
Building rapport with his godfather was essential, and this was the first step. Playing the role of a young heir crushed under family expectations came easily enough. After all, it mirrored Regulus's own life more closely than either of them cared to admit.
"Come, Godson," Regulus said, already turning.
Corvus followed, a small, satisfied smile tugging at his lips.
Soon, they reached a courtyard.
Regulus, with practiced ease, accepted a broomstick from Kreacher and said, "Your broom is another limb. It isn't just something that carries you through the air. Think of it as an extension of yourself, something that enables you to fly. With thought alone, you should be able to maneuver it however you wish. That is the goal."
He placed his hand on the broom. "To start, put your hand on top and command it firmly. Up."
The broom sprang neatly into his hand.
"In time, you won't even need to say it aloud," Regulus continued. "Just will it to come to you, and it will. Why don't you try?"
Excitement lit Corvus's face. He hovered his hand over the broom and said, "Up."
The broom jumped—straight into his nose—before clattering back to the ground.
Corvus winced, silently regretting not having invested in Flying skills earlier. Potions had seemed more practical at the time. Now, he wasn't so sure.
Regulus laughed softly. "Don't worry. Try again. This time, don't stand so close. You're doing fine."
Time seemed to slip by unnoticed as godfather and godson practiced together. Before Corvus realized it, a notification flickered into existence.
Skill Acquired: Flying Lv. 0
With that, things became much easier. At the very least, he could now float steadily on the broom.
"Alright," Regulus said at last. "It's getting late. Your parents and grandfather might be wondering where you've gone."
"Okay…" Corvus's face fell slightly. Then he looked up again. "But could you take me for a ride on your broom first? Father never did. He's always so serious and grumpy."
Regulus snorted. "No, I can't imagine Rodolphus taking anyone flying. I've never even seen him smile. Come on. Don't look so disappointed. I'll take you."
"Yes!" Corvus cheered.
He climbed onto the broom in front of Regulus, and moments later they were airborne.
They soared over London, the wind rushing past them. Corvus caught glimpses of the Thames, Big Ben, and even Muggle football stadiums below. Regulus dipped and swerved through narrow streets with practiced precision. The Muggles never noticed them, but Corvus felt an adrenaline rush like nothing he had ever experienced.
It was thrilling. Exhilarating. Free.
Eventually, Regulus guided them back down into the Black Hall courtyard.
As soon as they landed, Corvus jumped off and wrapped his arms around Regulus.
"Thank you, Godfather," he said earnestly. "You're the best godfather ever. I love you."
Regulus froze.
Hugs, clearly, were not something he was accustomed to.
After a brief moment, he smiled and awkwardly patted Corvus's back, then ruffled his hair.
"Let's go, Corvus," Regulus said quietly.
As they walked back toward the hall, a loose smile lingered on Regulus's lips. For once, returning to the dull, stifling party didn't feel quite so unbearable.
This godfather business…
He found that he was enjoying it.
No politics.
No hidden motives.
Just flying, wind, and laughter.
Corvus too enjoyed himself,
"You'll learn to fly like that soon," Regulus said lightly. "Just practice. You'll be an expert in no time."
Corvus nodded eagerly, already making a mental note to ask his grandfather to buy him a broom. He would practice. He promised himself that.
Just as they were about to re-enter the hall, a familiar, loud voice rang out.
"Well, well. Isn't this the Black heir? And who's this little guy you're corrupting?"
Corvus turned toward the newcomers.
If Regulus was a melancholy prince, then this man was the charmingly arrogant one.
Sirius Black.
He wore a black leather jacket studded with metal spikes, glossy leather trousers clinging effortlessly to his frame. His shirt was carelessly unbuttoned, a scarf draped around his neck as if rules were merely suggestions. Where Regulus embodied elegance and restraint, Sirius looked like a rogue straight out of a rebellion ballad.
Long, flowing black hair framed his face, wild and unapologetic, completing the look of someone who had never learned to bow and never intended to. It was as if, Sirius wants to shout to the world that he is a Rebel.
Beside him stood another equally arrogant figure, messy black hair and glasses slightly askew. Corvus didn't need long to guess.
James Potter.
"Salutations, brother. Mr. Potter," Regulus said coolly. His expression flattened, the warmth draining away. A flicker of surprise and something like pain crossed his face before vanishing. "What brings you here?"
"Tsk, tsk, Black heir," Sirius replied with a grin. "Invited by our dear grandfather, Arcturus Black. Didn't want to come anywhere near stuffy purebloods, but Jamesie dragged me along." He waved dismissively. "But never mind that. Who's this squirt you're corrupting with your snakelike dark sleaziness?"
"I was teaching my godson how to fly," Regulus replied curtly. "If that's all, I'll be taking my leave."
"Godson, huh?" Sirius scoffed. "Bellatrix's get? Funny seeing her kid smiling, considering whose groin he crawled out of."
"Language, Sirius," James interjected. "You can't talk like that in front of children. Regardless of how dark their parents are."
Corvus stepped forward immediately.
"Listen to your friend, whoever you are," he said sharply. "My Godfather is way cooler than you. He flies better, looks better, and doesn't smell like bad decisions."
He tilted his head, eyes wide with fake curiosity.
"Godfather, is he your relative? He talks very loud, like he's compensating. Did he get lost in a forest full of pixies as a child and they dropped him on his head a lot?"
James bit his lip, shoulders shaking. "Sirius, you never told me about the pixies."
"Shut up, James!" Sirius snapped, then turned on Corvus. "And you, squirt, you've got a sharp tongue. Let me teach you some manners..."
Regulus stepped in front of Corvus instinctively.
But Corvus leaned around him.
"Godfather," he said loudly, "is your relative always like this? He wants to pull a wand on a kid. Is he a bully, or is he just really bad at thinking?"
Regulus froze.
It felt strange. Comforting. Alarming. He hadn't realized his godson had such an uncanny ability to get under Sirius's skin.
"That is my brother," Regulus said carefully. "Sirius Black. He ran away from home a few years ago."
"Ohhh," Corvus said, nodding seriously. "So he's the runaway one. Did he live with gypsies, vagabonds, or angry alley cats? Because he acts feral." He squinted. "Are you sure he's your brother? Maybe St. Mungo's mixed babies and forgot to tell you. He doesn't have any class. Or style. Or manners."
His voice echoed.
People had started to gather.
Among them stood a man with greasy hair and a hooked nose, watching with obvious delight, especially when Corvus called Sirius a bully.
James had given up entirely and was laughing openly now, gripping Sirius's sleeve to keep him from lunging.
"You insolent little dark wizard in the making!" Sirius roared. "How dare you call me unstylish! I was the most stylish, most handsome student Hogwarts ever had!"
At that exact moment, Nyx appeared.
The cat sank his teeth into Sirius's wand hand and immediately leapt onto Corvus's head, tail flicking smugly.
"Aaargh! Bloody cat!" Sirius yelped. "James! The cat bit me! I swear the boy told it to!"
Nyx hissed softly, eyes glowing.
Regulus stood there, torn.
This was the first time he'd seen his brother since his graduation. Sirius was now an Auror. Regulus just finished school. Seeing him brought warmth… and disappointment.
Sirius was still exactly the same.
And Regulus found himself smiling faintly.
Despite everything.
Then another voice cut through the chaos.
"Well, well," Bellatrix purred. "Look who it is. The blood traitor Black and the blood traitor Potter. It seems neither of you learned anything."
She twirled her wand lazily, curls bouncing.
"Wasn't it only months ago that the Dark Lord made an example of your uncle, Potter?"
Her gaze slid toward Sirius, almost obscene in its interest.
"Who are you polluting with your presence now...."
She stopped.
"Corvus...."
Bellatrix froze.
Then her eyes lit with a dangerous red gleam.
"Sirius Black," she hissed. "You dare harass my son? I will flay you alive."
Spells erupted.
Red. White. Yellow. Orange.
James conjured a makeshift barrier, hurling chunks of stone toward Bellatrix. Sirius fired spell after spell. Bellatrix tore through them with manic precision, counterattacking effortlessly.
She was terrifying.
Regulus knew if he stepped in, both sides would attack him.
Corvus, meanwhile, stared in awe.
Mother is awesome.
Then a thunderous voice rang out.
"What is happening here?"
Instantly, Bellatrix and Sirius froze mid-motion, bodies locked in place. James's wand flew from his hand.
"What is happening in my hall?" Arcturus Black demanded. "Regulus. Speak."
Regulus inhaled to answer...
And was immediately interrupted.
"Hello, Mister Old Man!" Corvus waved cheerfully. "I am Corvus Marvolo Lestrange. My Godfather taught me how to fly. He's very good."
He pointed dramatically.
"Then this loud gypsy man and his noisy friend stopped us. I called him a bully. He called me dark and said he'd teach me a lesson. Then my mother came and started winning. These two were almost getting beaten very badly when you arrived."
Silence.
Arcturus Black's lips twitched.
So did Mr. Lestrange's, who had just arrived.
Several onlookers were failing miserably at hiding their laughter.
Regulus closed his eyes and sighed.
His godson truly had a tongue.
And for the first time that evening, Regulus wondered where Corvus got it from…
Then, Arcturus chuckled and looked towards, Mr Lestrange " Lord Lestrange, is that your polite grandson you were talking about, my youngest grandson seems to be quite fond of him, also he even caused my other grandson and grandniece to fight as well, during Black Yule Ball, " Arcturus raised his brow while smiling, the boy interested him.
"Yes, Lord Black, he his, but he seems to he quite excited today, do forgive his audacity ".
"I did not mind, it's been a while, I have seen someone this refreshingly straightforward and courageous ". Smiled Arcturus
Corvus whispered to Regulas " Who is that old man, Godfather, he seems very important "
" That's my grandfather "
" So would that be my Great Grand Godfather, so shall I call him my great Grand Godfather, or Great Granduncle " whispered Corvus
"Regulus," Arcturus Black said, his voice carrying effortlessly across the hall, "come to my study. Bring your godson with you. I wish to speak with you both."
His gaze shifted, sharp as a blade.
"And you, Sirius. You will wait."
Sirius froze.
"I also have business with you," Arcturus continued coolly. "Bellatrix, you as well. Until then, both of you will remain in Black Hall and conduct yourselves in a manner befitting your station. If either of you feels the urge to duel, I remind you that the recreational duelling arena exists for a reason. Not here."
The air seemed to exhale as Arcturus turned to the wider assembly.
"Ladies and gentlemen, my apologies for the disturbance. Please continue to enjoy the evening. Thank you for attending this fine ball."
With that, he swept away.
Only once he was gone did the hall truly move again.
Bellatrix and Sirius disengaged at the same moment, both straightening as if pulled by invisible strings. The hostility did not fade. If anything, it condensed. They stared at one another, eyes practically dripping venom, but neither dared take another step.
Bellatrix's gaze flicked briefly to her son.
Corvus was already moving away, following Regulus toward Arcturus's study, Mr. Lestrange beside them. For the briefest moment, something cracked through her usual fanatic composure. Concern. Sharp. Maternal.
Just as quickly, she buried it.
Without a word, Bellatrix turned and swept out of the hall, her robes whispering like a threat left unfinished.
Sirius let out a long breath.
"Merlin's beard," he muttered, turning to James. "Bellatrix is completely unhinged. She was staring like she was about to cast three Unforgivables at once."
James flexed his wand arm, wincing slightly as he did. "She went feral. Must've thought we were about to hex her son."
"Please," Sirius scoffed. "She'd have tried to kill us whether the kid was there or not. Son or no son, Bellatrix is always one bad thought away from murder."
He paused, then grinned despite himself.
"But did you see the kid?"
James glanced toward the direction Corvus had disappeared. "Hard to miss him."
"I'm telling you," Sirius said, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "he called me an uncultured gypsy in front of my own grandfather."
James blinked. "He did not."
"He absolutely did. Right to my face. Do you know the audacity it takes to insult me in Black Hall?"
James snorted. "You insult people for a living."
"Yes," Sirius said indignantly, "but not children. That's new territory."
James shook his head, half-amused, half-exhausted. "You realise Bellatrix probably took that as a declaration of war."
"Oh, definitely," Sirius replied cheerfully. "Her kid's a viper. I like him already."
He glanced toward the study once more, expression shifting just a fraction.
"Regulus is going to have his hands full."
And for once, Sirius Black did not sound like he was joking.
Meanwhile, in Arcturus Black's Study
"So," Arcturus said, steepling his fingers as he examined the boy before him, "this is your polite grandson, Lord Lestrange. The one you were speaking of."
"Yes, Lord Black," Mr. Lestrange replied quickly. "He recently awakened the Metamorphmagus trait. Corvus, come. Greet Lord Black properly."
Regulus stiffened.
This was news to him.
Pride bloomed first. Worry followed close behind. A Metamorphmagus in the open was never safe, not in this family, not in these times. And Corvus was his godson.
Corvus stepped forward without hesitation, straight-backed and far too confident for his age.
"Greetings, Great-Grandgodfather," he said brightly, then corrected himself, "or Granduncle. I am Corvus Marvolo Lestrange. I possess a… modest aptitude for Metamorphmagus transformation. Would you care for a demonstration?"
He glanced back at Regulus, who gave a barely perceptible nod.
Arcturus chuckled, eyes flicking briefly to Corvus's flamboyant attire. "You may call me Lord Black or Granduncle. Now then. Show me."
Corvus's features rippled.
In a heartbeat, Regulus's face stared back at them.
The resemblance was uncanny… save for the eyes. Those remained a vivid, unnatural violet.
"I apologize," Corvus said, letting the glamour dissolve. "I am not yet proficient."
"Good. Very good," Arcturus said, smiling in genuine satisfaction. "It has been decades since a Metamorphmagus appeared. And though you are not of the main line, this is still… remarkable."
Corvus tilted his head. "But Granduncle, did not another cousin awaken the same ability? My aunt's daughter, I believe."
Arcturus frowned. "Is that so?"
He turned sharply to Regulus. "Do you know of this?"
Regulus hesitated. He did know. Very well.
But admitting it aloud meant admitting continued contact with a disowned branch of the family.
"No, Grandfather," he said evenly. "Though I have heard… Andromeda's daughter is Sirius's goddaughter."
Arcturus blinked. Then smiled slowly.
"Indeed?" he murmured. "So both of my grandsons stand godfather to the only two Metamorphmagi alive. Curious symmetry. Do you know the girl's name?"
"I… do not recall," Regulus replied.
"Hm. No matter." Arcturus raised his voice. "Blinky."
With a sharp pop, a house-elf appeared. "Blinky is here, Master!"
"Fetch Sirius."
"Right away, Master!" Another pop, and the elf vanished.
Arcturus turned back to Corvus. "Tell me, boy. What else can you do?"
Corvus glanced at Regulus, then at his grandfather. At their nods, he raised his hand.
A sphere of pure white light bloomed above his palm.
It split into two.
Then vanished.
A flame replaced it, bright and controlled. That too split. Then split again, each smaller flame dancing as Corvus tried to shape them.
The fire twisted, folded… and finally settled into something that looked vaguely like a chalice.
"…I was attempting a rose," Corvus muttered.
"Marvelous," Arcturus said warmly. "Your middle name suits you well, young Corvus. But I must confess disappointment."
Corvus stiffened. "Disappointment, Granduncle?"
"You have awakened a Black family trait," Arcturus continued, "yet you bear no name tied to the stars. Under which star were you born?"
"I was born on January twenty-third, nineteen seventy-one," Corvus replied promptly. "But do you mean sun sign, moon sign, or ascendant?"
Arcturus raised an eyebrow. "Astronomy and horoscopes as well? A divination prodigy, perhaps?"
Before Corvus could answer, pop.
"Master," Blinky said, bowing deeply. "Young Master Sirius is outside."
"Send him in."
As Blinky vanished again, Mr. Lestrange spoke stiffly, "He has been studying astronomy since January. I took him to France."
"Nevertheless," Arcturus said, eyes narrowing slightly, "you must know the star."
"Yes," Mr. Lestrange replied. "Delphinus. His sun lay under Delphinus that day."
Arcturus's expression brightened. "Ah. Delphinus Black. Or perhaps Dauphin Black, given the Lestrange French ancestry."
"I object," Corvus said loudly.
All eyes turned to him.
"I am already named Corvus, which is Latin for crow. Now you want to name me Dolphin as well? That makes me a Raven Dolphin. If you combine everything, I become Corvus Delphinius Marvolo Black Lestrange, which sounds like either a magical aquarium exhibit or a very confused sea bird. I refuse."
Sirius, who had just entered the room, snorted.
Regulus failed to contain his laughter.
Arcturus boomed with delight. "Hahaha!"
Regulus and Sirius openly laughed now. Mr. Lestrange smiled… awkwardly.
"I am serious," Corvus insisted. "I do not necessarily hate dolphins, but, I already have one animal name."
"Very well, very well," Arcturus said, wiping his eyes. "No dolphins."
He turned to Regulus. "Why don't you suggest something for your godson?"
Regulus thought for a moment. Then said softly, "Arion. The poet saved by Delphinus."
Sirius grinned. "So he's a marvelously strange raven, and now a rescued artist?"
Corvus turned on him. "My name is still cooler than yours, Mr. Dog Star."
"Oh?" Sirius leaned forward. "Care to repeat that?"
"O mighty Canis Major," Corvus said sweetly, "why are you not woofing?"
"You little...."
"Sirius," Arcturus said calmly. "You are an adult. Do not be baited by a child."
He rose. "Lord Lestrange, thank you for your time. I will keep your grandson a while longer."
"Of course, Lord Black," Mr. Lestrange said.
As he left, he cast Corvus a look that was equal parts warning and fond resignation.
Left behind, Corvus sighed deeply.
All he had wanted was time with his godfather.
Instead, he had nearly been renamed the Black Dolphin Crow.