C052 - Black Library & Revelations

Soaked from top to bottom, I stood in front of a magnificent house that looked to be cared for in the posh part of London. Wondering if I got the address right because it should have been run down, I waved my wand to dry myself, used an umbrella charm to stay dry for a short while and used the 'ancient snake headed knocker' as instructed.

A few moments later, the grand wooden door slowly screeched open until it allowed a wizened elf to peek his head out of the door a little.

"Yes, you be calling for Kreacher?"

Looking at the knocker once more before looking at him, I narrowed my eyes a little. The Blacks were pompous enough to install a knocker that would only call for the elf of the house? Talk about luxurious.

Silently, I handed over the letter Arcturus had left me and looked at the elf suspiciously as he snatched the ticket to a dark Ravenclaw's wet dream - or so I hoped - out of my hand.

When the elf sniffed the letter, I rolled my eyes and demanded, "Is this how a House Black elf treats their guests? What would your Lady Walburga Black think?"

Kreacher scowled for a moment before he opened the door wide.

"This letter is real, yes, yes. Old master said to Kreacher he would invite a promising boy when he was here last."

I entered and waved my wand once more to warm myself a little. There were no peeling wallpapers or elf heads above the mantle in the entrance, but it was still cold and uninviting inside the house.

I held out my broomstick and inquired, "Lord Black told me that you would be delighted to learn that someone of my pedigree, who has done much for your house, would hold up traditions and who not reject the noble magic the Blacks have cast for centuries, would come to this house. Could you please store this securely so that it is not in the way? Handle it with care. It is one of a kind."

Kreacher looked at the broom, likely completely indifferent for such an item, and popped out of my view together with the broom. Moments later, he came back and looked at me warily.

"Are the lord and his whelp here?" I asked imperiously as I looked around the clearly recently renovated sitting area I was made to wait in.

I had high hopes Kreacher would like me addressing Sirius and Harry that way. And, while I would never talk to Patrick like that, I banked on the fact that Kreacher would be more comfortable when I spoke in a more commanding tone.

"They be gone. Dirty muggle business," Kreacher answered as he muttered under his breath.

"I see. Take me to the portrait of Walburga, then. I have something to discuss with her," I ordered and inwardly sighed heavily.

Talking to the screeching banshee was the second last thing I wanted in this house, but I needed to establish myself as someone deserving of respect to Kreacher if I wanted to deal with the locket horcrux, and I needed to make sure Dumbledore would not learn of my time here. I wasn't sure if Sirius would out me in time, but if Harry told his godfather of his suspicions, I hoped he wouldn't.

It was no longer that I feared Dumbledore would try to paint me as a dark wizard. I just didn't want to be called into the headmaster's office for any reason. Me getting into the Black library sounded like a reason.

"Who are you, brat? What are you doing in my home!" The portrait of the old crone immediately demanded when I stepped into her view under Kreacher's guidance.

"Good day, Lady Black. My name is Talion Macnair to the public, but you may call me Timothy Lestrange," I introduced myself with a respectful bow.

The name, of course, was just a misdirect to muddy the waters in case I miscalculated.

"Timothy... and Lestrange? Are you Bella's offspring? Why have I never heard of you?" The woman in the portrait asked in clear interest and deep suspicion.

"I am sorry, I am not a House Black scion. Bellatrix is my aunt. My father is her husband's brother," I revealed grandly as I pretended I wasn't repulsed by either of the two. With Walburga's portrait, I decided to just rip off the bandaid early and pretend to be something I was not just based on the facts. She was just a portrait, after all.

I'd be playing on her emotions. There was no way the magical painting would reveal my secret if I played my cards right. And nobody living in this house would willingly engage with the portrait just to learn gossip anyway. At worst she would tell Sirius, who owed me a debt of life, or she would tell Andromeda Tonks, who helped Sirius get better which I learned from my lawyer.

And Andromeda didn't strike me as a woman who would do anything with that information unless she wanted to tank her husband's reputation since I was his client.

"I see. Why are you sporting the name of a lesser house then? The Lestrange have a storied history and a long line of fine, pureblooded, and reputable wizards."

I sighed in distress and answered, "It was my mother who named me while my father spent his life in Azkaban. Lamentably, I was raised with muggles. Now, my father's name is too tarnished. I cannot reveal myself to this rotten society or be ostracized."

Totally, true, but not for the reasons I made Walburga think.

"Indeed, indeed... How regrettable. Selena Macnair is your mother, then? I don't remember any other pureblood witches with the name that could have birthed you... You come from fine magicals," Walburga lamented with me.

Oh gods, it took my everything not to cringe at that moment.

"Yes, she was hunted before my birth, which is why I am going to get revenge for her. Nothing beats a mother's love, and they took it from me before I could cherish it," I darkly commented, only half pretending. I saw Walburga nod with wicked approval as she pondered over something.

"Why do you stand before me, young Lestrange?"

"Your father-in-law owed me a favor. Though you may not like him, it was through my help that your son Sirius is out of Azkaban and able to continue the Black bloodline, lest it runs out in his generation."

Walburga narrowed her eyes and pointed out, "Cissa and her boy are still alive."

"Have you talked to the dimwit recently? Excuse me for insulting someone of your family, milady, but Draco is an insufferable moron. All of his charisma is made of money and his father's influence. People at Hogwarts laugh behind his back. He will never inspire loyalty in House Black's lessers. And he will never fight for it either, Lucius will see to that," I countered as I gave my very biased opinion of the boy.

Sure, people did laugh behind his back, but he was still treated with respect in House Slytherin. He was still the leader of the boys in his school year. But he was my enemy, so it wasn't for long.

"Nothing he couldn't learn. You call him a dimwit, but he is quick to pick up even subtle teachings. I've personally seen to it before he attended those accursed P.S.Y. schools where he learned nothing but trash," the painted Lady Black hotly argued back.

Oh. If that was where Draco got his mannerisms and quick and rigid opinions got from, I no longer needed to wonder.

"Narcissa is getting on in years and has only birthed a single son. A Malfoy. If something happens, your family will be long forgotten after your vaults and coffers are emptied. But never mind that. Your house's affairs are not for me to meddle and not why I am here. I am here to make use of the favor Lord Arcturus Black bestowed upon me. Until my majority, I am allowed inside the Black Library within reason and outside the family magic sections," I revealed and got Walburga pondering again.

Seeing she didn't immediately have an opinion to share, I continued, "One of my enemies resides at Hogwarts. I know that your esteemed ancestor Phineas Black has a portrait hanging with the other headmasters in Hogwarts. I want to make sure Phineas will not reveal my comings and goings to anybody at the school. The man isn't a nosy snitch, I know, but the noble ex headmaster owes me nothing."

"You want my permission to have his frame moved so that you can walk to the library unseen by him?"

I nodded.

"If he is in the way, yes."

Walburga's eyes gained a calculating glint and asked, "Why would I grant this request?"

"I don't wish to barter with you. Eventually, the staff will learn of my presence here. You would at best buy me a year of silence. Something I would appreciate, not need," I countered unyieldingly.

I wasn't about to get ripped off by the painting of a woman I had no respect for.

Plus, I had magical vision. I would see when a consciousness was inside the painting, and I could just walk past the frame when Phineas wasn't home or use some other means. I just didn't want to overstretch my welcome by stunning a portrait in a home I was a guest in if it was possible.

"You raise a good point. Sirius is dangerously close to that old goat leading the school. He will report your presence like the obedient dog he is. Oh, how I hope he gives up his title after birthing my house a litter of worthy offspring so that I may raise them right!"

I fought the urge to roll my eyes and offered, "I came to you first as a courtesy, Lady Black. If this is all, I would like to ask the elf to guide me to my rightful prize."

Walburga's eyes flashed with cruelty and anger for a moment because I didn't take her shit, I supposed, before she looked at the house elf and ordered, "Arcturus gave him the right to learn. So learn he shall. Guide him to the library. Show him his limits... and hang Phineas' frame in the heir's study for a while. Tell him it was on Sirius' order if he asks."

-----

It was almost midnight when Kreacher pointed out the time to me.

"Will you be staying the night, honorable wizard?"

A shudder ran down my spine when he started calling me that.

"No. I do not wish to overstay my welcome any more than I likely already did," I countered and looked at the barely visible moon through the giant windows on the ceiling. It was a cloudy night.

"I have what I need for the moment. I will be here again next summer. Possibly over the winter break, if I am in the mood," I commented as I packed my bag. There were a whole host of books inside that I copied with the gemini charm, as well as another letter from Lord Arcturus Black. I would have to ask Patrick to have copies made before they disappear sometime soon.

It was bad manners to 'steal' books like I did, but Arcturus was dead, Walburga a portrait, and Sirius owed me a debt of life. Originally, I freed Sirius for Harry. But now I wanted to get compensated instead. So I wasn't feeling too bad about it.

Thankfully, Patrick was pretty decent at charming muggles to do that kind of work for a bit of cash so that I wouldn't feel bad about stealing a few hours of their lives typing up a book. Well, that and the ICW heavily frowned upon such behavior if the muggles weren't fairly compensated. I agreed with them.

Plus, not every book was able to get copied. Some of the books I'd been reading until deep into the night were those I couldn't copy.

"Are Lord Black and his charge back?"

Kreacher nodded and answered, "Indeed. Both are in their respective quarters. Lady Black instructed Kreacher not to inform them of your presence."

"Oh? Thank her for me. Will I be leaving through the main entrance or...?"

"Kreacher can make it so you may use the fireplace," Kreacher answered with a calculating glint in his eyes.

It looked like he was happy that I was sneaking out under Sirius' nose.

"Sure. Lead the way and remember my broom. I'll need it to get home from the public floo," I agreed and allowed myself to be taken to a room next to the kitchens.

The fireplace lit up when we entered, and Kreacher snapped his finger again as a broom, and a bowl filled with floo powder appeared in the room.

A wave of my wand later, I called out for the laundromat in York without scorching my Firebolt in the fires of the floo before it became a floo.

Now free to use magic even in public places among muggles because the trace was lifted on me, I cast a notice-me-not charm and disillusioned myself before getting on my broom to fly home to Goldsborough.

After seeing 12 Grimmauld Place back in its luster, at least from the outside, I thought about my own home. A mere wooden shack that somehow managed to survive the test of time.

I didn't plan to tear it down, but I was thinking whether or not I couldn't use my muggle money to do something else.

Half an hour later, I floated above the abandoned village of Goldsborough. An ancestor of mine had dropped barrels filled with kraken blood down a hill and made it uninhabitable to muggles. The ministry made them all move before they ever determined if the kraken blood would have consequences that could threaten the statute of secrecy.

I... I could buy this entire village and develop it into something of my own.

I didn't have followers. I didn't have a need for more than a two-bedroom apartment with one room acting as a workshop. But I could always gain followers in the future. I could build a family that needed a bigger home than this wooden shack I lived in.

Yes. Building something will be worthwile. I needed to create to stop thinking about how much I destroyed.

'I'll go through the hedgefund manager muggleborn. I bet he has the best contacts in real estate and eminent domain,' I thought as I watched... my... town.

As I landed, I walked to the forest line near my shack. Rows and rows of potted magical plants, most of them the healing plant dittany, were growing at a rather rapid pace. And just like Patrick had said, the dryads of the forest would love to take care of them.

Dryads were weird beings in general. I was sure they understood human language, but didn't talk themselves.

They were about as big as Patrick and looked like humanoids that were made of roots and leaves. Not one of them looked like the other with different plants growing over their chubby bodies.

When I found a group of four dryads in the forest near the shack, I asked if they could look after some magical plants for me. One of them nodded and followed me. I pointed at a potted plant and after a short staredown, the dryad walked up and pointed his finger at the sapling.

It immediately started growing a little.

And all the dryad did was look at me with their weird half indifferent, half benelovently smiling look.

-----

I sat alone in the Hogwarts Express on the first of September with deep hatred flashing in my eyes. I clutched today's Daily Prophet in my hands as I almost ripped apart the pages due to my anger.

'Macnair or Lestrange? The tragic truth about Talion Macnair's parentage revealed'

How did they know? Who found it out? Why now? Why at all?

"Do it anyway," I said to nobody, but I knew Patrick had been waiting for my decision on whether or not to release the pictures we had prepared.

Now that it was revealed that not only my grandfather was a known 'alleged' Death Eater, but also that my father was one of the convicted criminals who attacked the Longbottoms - as well as being a general piece of shit human being - it was risky to bring Death Eaters back into everyone's mind since the papers didn't after the attack.

It made the reveal in the Daily Prophet about me worse, but I judged that it shouldn't stop me from doing what was right. Already, I distanced myself from most of my peers by barely interacting with them after my birthday if I discounted Isobel. This all wouldn't change much, especially if I played my cards right.

Looking outside to see thousands of pages flying towards the countless families hugging goodbye on the platform outside the train, I pondered who it was that found out and leaked it.

Like always, I suspected Dumbledore's hand in it. I had an inkling that Amelia Bones found out and somehow held me responsible for the circumstances of my birth. It was unlikely. And it was even less likely that she would put it in the papers instead of confronting me.

Same with Walburga Black. I was sure that she had no reason to discredit me in front of someone or even ordered Kreacher to drop that bomb at the Daily Prophet. She would make a permanent enemy out of me, a pureblood that her own father-in-law gifted a clear sign of friendship to just before his death.

My Aunt Bella Farley knew, and maybe she confided my father's name in her husband... But there was someone with much more to gain. Someone who was much more likely lashing out at a kid in the press.

Lucius Malfoy.

I humiliated him by pointing out the man's absence at the gathering of the important people after the attack at the Quidditch finals. I humiliated his son by showing everyone that he was a mindless buffoon. I wasn't cowed by Lucius' intimidation either, and I suspected he learned nothing material about me after sending Charles Farley to report the details of my emancipation hearing. If he was behind the latest attack on me, I fought off a minimum of two groups of grown wizards - and it couldn't have been cheap. Either Farley told Lucius or, much more likely, he knew long before.

If people talked about me being a convicted Death Eater's son, never mind that he himself was one, nobody would remember Lucius being absent at the finals for a while... technically, same as I.

He was in Voldemort's inner circle, same as his sister-in-law Bellatrix Lestrange, who was my aunt. Him knowing that my mother was sold as 'proper breeding stock' to my father didn't sound like something that was maintained as a delicate secret among their kind.

Since I knew almost for a fact that it was Lucius, I counted on Draco having talking points ready to drag my name through the mud so that nobody would talk about my championship, but only about my biological father. I needed to think about how to handle this in the most efficient way possible.

With hatred still etched in my expression, though it was slightly easing, I took out a parchment and began to write an anonymous tip to the DMLE.

Arcturus gave me something I could use against Malfoy if the man started coming after me with underhanded means. It was a small letter with a copy of a ledger waiting for me in the Black library. It reminded me of the hidden space in the Malfoy home where the horcrux was originally stored.

Well, Malfoy started playing dirty.

Sadly, my year was already completely stacked. Animagus training, bully hunting, looking out for horcrux carriers, Luna - should she need my help, Lara, Isobel... Flitwick will still want to train me. I still wanted to keep up my physical abilities.

Fitting in dealing with Lucius Malfoy and adding ward breaking into the mix so that I could figure out how to get into homes with ancient family wards and just kill Lucius and the last known Lestrange not in Azkaban in their sleep... I wasn't sure if that was feasible this year if I also needed to change the narrative around me for the better.

I'd probably have to drop Quidditch now that Hilliard graduated. Davies was made captain over me, not that it was surprising, but I wasn't sure I wanted to play under such a self-absorbed asshole. In a game I didn't particularly like.

I'd play keeper at most. That position needed the least team play, the least training for someone with my reflexes, and forced me into the least amount of communication with my teammates if I wasn't the captain shouting out plays.

"Talion?" Hermione asked as she and Mandy opened my compartment door.

They both look shocked, shaken, and frightened.

"Yes?"

"M-may we come inside?"

"Sure," I answered and folded the newspaper over my lap. I scrutinizedthe two for a moment before I asked, "What got you two so... riled up?"

Mandy handed me a paper with shaking hands. On it, the bloody corpse of someone Patrick bisected was seen with his Death Eater slave seal prominently exposed.

Okay, maybe I should have told Patrick to spare the children on the platform a few of the more bloody pictures.

"'They are lying to you'? Who are they?" I pretended to ponder.

Hermione clutched one of the papers in her hands, too. A less bloody one, but one featuring a recent Slytherin graduate that wasn't Lucas Bole, who I relished killing.

"That's what I find scary. Nobody said anything about all of them being Death Eaters," Mandy mumbled under her breath as she watched the picture in Hermione's hand from the corner of her eyes. Lucas wasn't marked. He had been too young. But clearly he identitied with the group enough to join over 30 other Death Eaters. Her muggleborn mom had told her horror stories growing up. She didn't like one bit that so many of them were running around freely and that nobody commented on the fact that they died as Death Eaters during an act of terror instead of being 'killed in a misunderstanding '.

I didn't answer as I thought about how I needed to fight off my urge to find contentment in Lucas' death since the day after the attack.

I read the books of the brotherhood for inspiration after the attack. Instead, I found wisdom, now that I gained a little perspective. Killing for sport or for pleasure was not the assassin's way.

I needed to be better. No kills for personal gain or satisfaction. I needed to be sure it was for the betterment of everyone and separate personal enemies from actual targets.

It was going to be hard because in my world view at the moment, most of my enemies were actual targets. It will take a lot of introspection because not everything was black and white. Not everyone was a Death Eater.

Neither of the girls said anything after Mandy's comment, so I tried giving both of them sympathetic smiles as their eyes were glued to the picture of the corpse.

"You were spared seeing them at the finals?"

Hermione's eyes suddenly snapped in my direction. A hint of realisation and empathy in them as she saw my tired smile.

"You... you saw them for real? Wait, but we asked around about you! We didn't find you that night no matter where we went and who we asked! We only heard you were helping people, I..."

I held up my hand to indicate that she should stop her rapidfire interrogation.

"I saw you were okay and simply didn't come over. You didn't find me because that's what I wanted," I explained as both girls gave me complicated looks. Mandy had been completely quiet thus far.

"But... why?" Hermione asked as she lightly bit her lower lip in distress.

"Longbottom. Right?" Mandy asked with a complicated expression.

I merely nodded.