Chapter Text
Arcturus
“What do you mean, you think Bella has made the Choice?” Arcturus glared down his nose at the cousin who was, generally speaking, the least terrible of the three wizards he called ‘nephew.’ At least he had managed to sire children, even if they were both girls. But statements like that were the sort of thing that made him seriously consider abdicating the position of Paterfamilias to Uncle Phineas, and moving to Germany. Especially on days like today. Surely his mother’s family would not deny him a place at their table? “She’s seven years old, Cygnus! Morgen and Mordred! Is that even possible?”
The younger wizard shuddered. “It’s the only thing that fits, Uncle. She ripped through my Imperius as though it was nothing, and –”
“And what were you doing, using the Imperius on your own child?!” Arcturus took a deep breath through his nose refraining from shouting more. There was truly no excuse for such a thing.
“Nothing else seems to get through to her,” Cygnus shrugged. Arcturus truly could not tell if he felt as victimized by the whole situation as he acted. If Pollux wasn’t already dead, he thought, not for the first time since taking over as the Head of House Black, I’d kill him myself for the poor excuses for sons he raised. “Corporal punishment has never encouraged her to modify her behavior – and now it doesn’t even cow her. I cast a Lashing Hex on her, and she just laughed like a tiny little madwoman. And her magic, Uncle – it’s gone… cold. Like touching the Dark Itself!”
The patriarch snorted. It was much more likely, he thought, that his nephew had managed to simply drive the girl insane. Cygnus was no legilimens – it wasn’t as though he would know. Arcturus would have to look into it himself, and see whether anything could be salvaged. He knew he shouldn’t have let the temperamental boy have free reign over his children. Powers take the lot of them! Aloud, he said, “I did not invite you here today to discuss Bellatrix, in any case, Cygnus.”
“No, of course not, Uncle,” the younger man bowed slightly, clearly embarrassed for having spilled his concerns without so much as a by-your-leave.
“Castor has finally succumbed to the spattergroit. He passed beyond the Veil last night. The funeral will be held at the new moon. But in the meanwhile, I must determine what is to be done with his youngest daughter, Walburga.” Cygnus nodded, showing no sign of comprehension. “The girl is only fifteen. She will be sitting her OWLs in June. As you ought to know, Castor and Lenora decided after Lyra’s untimely death to keep their daughters close to home. She has indicated that she would prefer to finish her studies independently, rather than transfer to Hogwarts for her NEWTs, so it occurs to me that your daughters might benefit from a more… active female presence in their lives – all the moreso, since it now appears your eldest has acquired the means to resist your own… ‘teaching,’” he sneered.
Cygnus considered for mere seconds before nodding eagerly. He knew as well as Arcturus did that Cassiopeia and Andromeda were bound to have trained Walburga properly in the feminine arts, and it would doubtless be a great relief to have a proper lady in the household who could pass those traits on to his own girls. For Arcturus as well; had this opportunity not presented itself, he would doubtless have been recommending tutors in a few short years, as Druella was a shambles when it came to taking care of her own children. “Of course, Uncle – my home is always open to a cousin in need.”
“Excellent. You may expect her to arrive in three days’ time.”
“Of course, Uncle. And… Bellatrix?”
Arcturus sighed. If it wasn’t so pathetic, and also such ridiculously poor timing, the sight of his thirty-seven year old nephew spooked by his seven-year-old daughter would be terribly amusing. “Send her over for tea this Saturday, and I’ll talk to her.”