"So, Sirius," the Lord Black said calmly, "is there something you wish to tell me?"
His eyes peering into his rebel grandson,Sirius Black.
Sirius snapped upright. "No, Grandfather."
Arcturus turned his gaze instead to Corvus. "Is there something he should tell me?"
Corvus considered that. Just for a moment.
"Yes," he said at last. "He is an Animagus."
Sirius's breath caught.
"His Animagus form is a Grim," Corvus added, pointing lightly. "He achieved it in his fifth year. Possibly sixth."
Silence.
Then Arcturus smiled.
"Hm. I would expect nothing less from my grandson," he said approvingly. "An Animagus at such a young age. Good. Very good."
Regulus stared at Sirius, stunned. "So… Padfoot?"
Sirius groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Bloody Seers."
Corvus inclined his head. "Apologies. You requested a demonstration."
"But that's the past," Sirius shot back, recovering just enough to bristle. "You told us what I became. Not what I will do."
Corvus's smile faded.
"The future is not a single road," he said quietly. "It is a shifting field of paths. Small changes barely ripple it. Large ones… fracture it."
He met Sirius's eyes directly.
"There are events that must occur. If I interfere too much, one of three things happens."
He raised one finger. "The future grows more chaotic."
A second. "More people die."
A third. "Or I am neutralized. Removed. Or misled by fate itself."
The room felt colder.
"So," Corvus concluded quietly, "I can speak only in hints. What you choose to do with them… is not my responsibility."
No one spoke.
Sirius no longer looked amused.
He looked… focused. Entirely so.
After a long moment, he asked the question no one else dared to voice.
"So," he said carefully, "who wins this war?"
Corvus answered without hesitation.
"No one."
The word settled heavily in the room.
"The Dark Lord will lose," Corvus continued, voice calm, almost detached. "But by the time he is gone for good, the wizarding world of Britain will be little more than a shell."
He paused, as though reciting figures from memory.
"More than seventy percent of the population will be dead… or permanently scarred. Over eighty percent of pure-blood families will stand on the brink of extinction. Half of them will vanish entirely."
Regulus felt something hollow out in his chest.
"The Muggle world will enter a new age," Corvus said. "Digital. Accelerated. Unreachable. The wizarding world will be left behind, stagnant and fractured."
His gaze moved, slowly, deliberately, around the room.
"Everyone present here tonight will be dead by then."
Silence.
"There will be no surviving members of the Black family," Corvus finished. "None."
Sirius swallowed.
"Except," Corvus added softly, "for a distant few."
He looked directly at Sirius.
"Namely, My godmother's son. The child of Nymphadora Tonks."
A breath.
"And the godson of Sirius Black."
The room did not move.
Corvus tilted his head, then added lightly, "So… it appears it's high time, Mr Dog Star, that my dear godfather considers spreading his seeds among the populace."
No one in the room, found the joke funny.
Not Sirius.
Not Regulus.
Not Arcturus.
The silence itself corrected him.
Corvus cleared his throat to clear his awkwardness. "Apologies".
Then his expression sobered completely.
"There will be a period of stability," he continued. "The Dark Lord will fall. Britain will breathe again. And for fourteen years, the world will convince itself that the nightmare is over."
Sirius leaned forward.
"And then?" he asked quietly.
"Then he returns," Corvus said. "Fourteen years later. More fractured. More reckless. More dangerous."
He hesitated, brow furrowing slightly.
"To be honest, he is already unhinged. I am surprised no one finds it alarming that he no longer looks entirely human."
Regulus flinched.
"From next year onward," Corvus continued, "things worsen. Casualties rise. Lines blur. Unspeakable acts become… common."
His gaze hardened.
"Those you believe friends will betray you. Those you believe enemies will remain true. Trust will become more lethal than curses."
He looked directly at Sirius.
"Whatever you intend to prepare," Corvus said carefully, "you must do it in those fourteen years between his first fall and his return. That window is all you will have."
A pause.
"Soon," he added, "a prophecy will surface. In a year… perhaps a year and a half. It will predict the Dark Lord's downfall."
Arcturus's fingers tightened slightly on his cane.
"When that happens," Corvus said, "the chessmasters will move their pieces. They always do."
His voice dropped, steady and grim.
"We," he said, "are the pieces."
He glanced around the room.
"And a lone piece is always expendable."
Then, quietly, "If you wish to survive, you must ensure you are never alone on the board. Even a pawn can be the difference between survival… and slaughter."
A pin-drop silence followed.
Every Black in the room looked as though the blood had been drained from them all at once. Faces pale. Spines rigid. Even the portraits seemed to lean closer, listening.
As if on cue, Corvus spoke again.
"Lord Black," he said quietly, "I require an oath from everyone present."
Arcturus's eyes sharpened.
"No one in this room is to speak of my abilities," Corvus continued, "my capabilities, or what has been discussed about the future. Not directly. Not indirectly. Not by hint, implication, or confession."
He met each of their gazes in turn.
"This concerns not only the future… but my safety."
Arcturus did not answer immediately.
When he did, his voice was solemn. "Would you require an Unbreakable Vow?" he asked. "Or would an oath or contract suffice?"
"A contract," Corvus replied at once. "One that ensures if any participant attempts to speak of these matters, directly or indirectly, they will forget them entirely."
The words landed heavily.
"The memory itself," Corvus said, "must be inaccessible. Unrecoverable. No extraction. No Legilimency. No artifact. Nothing must be able to pull it from their mind."
Arcturus studied him for a long moment.
"I have just the thing," the old man said at last.
He raised his voice. "Blinky."
With a sharp pop, the house-elf appeared. "Blinky is here, Master!"
"Bring the Black family contract papers," Arcturus instructed. "And ask Lord Lestrange to join us."
"At once, Master!" Blinky vanished.
Minutes passed.
The door opened, and Lord Lestrange entered.
He took one look at the room and slowed.
The atmosphere had changed. The usual arrogance, tension, and sharp humor of the Blacks was gone. What remained was something colder. Heavier.
Purpose.
"Lord Black," he said carefully, inclining his head. "You wished to see me?"
"Yes," Arcturus replied. "We require your presence to officiate a contract and an oath."
Lord Lestrange's gaze flicked briefly to Corvus.
"It concerns your grandson."
For the first time that evening, something like unease crossed Lord Lestrange's face. He schooled it instantly.
"Of course, Lord Black," he said evenly.
Another pop.
"Blinky has brought the papers, Master," the elf announced, holding up a thick bundle of aged parchment bound in black ribbon.
Arcturus rose slowly from his seat.
"Then let us proceed," he said.
The Black Family Covenant of Silence and Oblivion
Let it be known and bound in magic and intent,
That on this night, under the ancestral roof of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, upon the eve of Yule, the undersigned do enter into a binding covenant, herein referred to as The Covenant.
I. Parties to the Covenant
The Parties bound by this Covenant are all individuals present within the Study of Arcturus Black at the time of its activation, including but not limited to:
Arcturus Phineas Black
Regulus Arcturus Black
Sirius Orion Black
Cyrille Corvus Lestrange
Any additional signatories acknowledged by blood, oath, or magical presence
Hereafter collectively referred to as The Bound.
The Beneficiary of this Covenant is:
Corvus Marvolo Lestrange, hereafter referred to as The Protected.
II. Scope of Protected Knowledge
The following knowledge is deemed Restricted and falls under the absolute protection of this Covenant:
The magical abilities, talents, prowess, and limitations of The Protected.
Any prophetic insight, foresight, visions, or future knowledge disclosed by The Protected.
Any discussion, implication, inference, or deduction regarding future events shared within this room prior to the sealing of this Covenant.
The existence, nature, or extent of The Protected's Seer abilities.
This includes all verbal, written, magical, symbolic, or indirect forms of transmission.
III. Prohibition
The Bound shall not, by will or accident:
Speak of the Restricted knowledge.
Write of the Restricted knowledge.
Think upon the Restricted knowledge with intent to communicate.
Reveal the Restricted knowledge through metaphor, hint, confession, memory extraction, Legilimency, Pensieve usage, enchanted artifacts, portraits, or any other known or unknown magical means.
IV. Enforcement Clause: Oblivion Trigger
Should any Bound individual attempt, whether consciously or subconsciously, to violate this Covenant:
The Restricted knowledge shall be immediately severed from their conscious and subconscious mind.
All memories, impressions, emotional associations, and contextual links relating to the Restricted knowledge shall be rendered inaccessible.
Said memories shall not be recoverable by:
Legilimency
Occlumency
Pensieves
Soul magic
Time-based magic
Divine or infernal intervention
The Bound shall retain no awareness that such knowledge was ever possessed.
The mind shall seal itself, and the magic shall forget for them.
V. Non-Transferability
This Covenant is immune to:
Coercion
Imperius Curse
Truth Serums
Torture
Bargains
Contracts made subsequent to this Covenant
No external force may compel the release of Restricted knowledge once Oblivion has been enacted.
VI. Duration
This Covenant shall remain in effect until:
The Protected willingly dissolves it, or
The Protected reaches the age of majority and replaces it with a covenant of equal or greater binding.
No other termination clause exists.
VII. Acknowledgment of Will
By placing their name and magic upon this document, each Bound affirms:
That they enter this Covenant of their own free will.
That they understand the consequences.
That no Unbreakable Vow has been invoked, and thus survival is not guaranteed through compliance alone.
That ignorance thereafter is not punishment, but protection.
VIII. Sealing
This Covenant shall be sealed by:
The blood of the House of Black.
The authority of the Black Family Head.
The magic of the ancestral house itself.
The acknowledgment of the Beneficiary.
Once sealed, the Covenant shall recognize no appeal.
Signed and Bound on this Night:
__________________________
Arcturus Phineas Black
Head of the House of Black
__________________________
Regulus Arcturus Black
__________________________
Sirius Orion Black
__________________________
Cyrille Corvus Lestrange
__________________________
Corvus Marvolo Lestrange
Beneficiary and Anchor of the Covenant
Copies of the contract were passed to each attendee.
Regulus read without reaction, his expression carefully blank, as though he were reviewing a military briefing rather than a document that would erase parts of his own mind if broken.
Lord Lestrange stared at his grandson first in disbelief… then in long, silent contemplation. Whatever he saw there unsettled him far more than the parchment itself.
Sirius skimmed the text once.
Twice.
His jaw tightened. Unwillingness was etched plainly across his face, sharp and unhidden.
Arcturus waited.
When no one spoke, he rose.
"Very well," he said calmly. "Pour your blood upon the parchment."
A silver blade appeared in his hand, thin and ceremonial. One by one, they complied.
A drop of blood from Arcturus, dark and steady.
Regulus followed, precise, controlled.
Sirius hesitated, then cut his palm with more force than necessary, scowling as crimson splashed onto the page.
Lord Lestrange added his mark last, eyes never leaving Corvus.
The parchment drank the blood greedily. The ink darkened. Lines twisted, reweaving themselves into something older than language.
Arcturus placed his hand flat upon the document.
"Attend," he commanded.
The words were spoken not loudly, but with authority that made the walls listen.
"Ex hoc momento, pactum scriptum vivit et regnat.
Verba ligantur, memoriae clauduntur, voluntas sub lege manet.
Qui scit, taceat. Qui loquitur, obliviscatur.
Nunc omnes hic praesentes… tenemur."
The parchment ignited with silver-white light.
Not flame.
Law.
Magic surged outward in a silent wave. The air thickened, pressure bearing down on bone and thought alike. Sirius staggered half a step, breath catching sharply. Regulus felt a sudden chill behind his eyes, like a door slamming shut somewhere deep in his mind.
Lord Lestrange's vision blurred for a heartbeat.
Then—
Stillness.
The light collapsed inward, vanishing into the parchment, which curled in on itself and dissolved into fine black ash. The ash did not fall.
It sank into the floor, into the house itself.
The ancestral walls of Black Manor exhaled.
The contract was no longer ink and paper.
It was part of the house.
Arcturus straightened slowly.
"It is done," he said.
Sirius swallowed. "I don't feel any different."
"You wouldn't," Arcturus replied. "That is the point."
Regulus opened his eyes, gaze steady once more. "And if one of us tries to speak?"
Arcturus's expression hardened just slightly.
"Then they will forget why they opened their mouth."
Corvus felt as if a brick had been lifted from his chest.
He had played the Seer act perfectly. No one in the room was any the wiser. The ritual, the warnings, the carefully measured truths… all of it had landed exactly where it needed to.
But the relief was temporary.
He knew what came next.
He would have to sell the same act again.
This time, to his grandfather.
But, that can wait, till they reached Château de Lestrange.