Orion and Abrax walked side-by-side through the dimly lit corridor, their footsteps echoing off the ancient stone. Their conversation had shifted from Slughorn to the report they were expected to give by evening to the board.
Abrax waved one hand in an elegant, theatrical gesture—his version of irritation.
"See? I told you Dumbledore has finally gone senile." His tone was sharp and amused."Who in their right mind thought it was appropriate to remove Wizarding Traditions and Etiquette? Now the muggle-borns wander around looking like bewildered kneazles—standing out when they don't intend to."
Orion's expression softened—not toward the topic, but toward whatever memory he was lost in. There was a subtle light in his eyes—a warmth Abrax hadn't seen in him in years.
Hope.
It suited him. Infuriatingly so.
Abrax narrowed his eyes.
"Are you even listening, Orion?""We have an official report to give the Board. I know this is your first inspection, but we do actually have responsibilities."
Orion finally looked at him, amused.
"Abrax, breathe. I heard you."His voice was calm—almost serene."And yes, I agree—the curriculum needs reform."
Abrax blinked.
Orion agreeing without argument was… new.
Orion continued, hands clasped behind his back as they approached the moving gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office.
"I was also thinking beyond etiquette. The children need proper combat training. Physical conditioning. Discipline. We had dueling clubs—exchange competitions with other schools."He paused, thoughtful."It doesn't need to be a grand tournament, but a formal dueling class in the curriculum, and at least one active club, is necessary."
Abrax stared at him for a moment—then scoffed.
"Merlin's beard, who replaced my brooding, emotionally constipated friend with someone productive?"
Orion's lips twitched.
"Personal growth."
Abrax raised a brow dramatically."Disgusting."
The gargoyle shifted aside, stone scraping loudly.
Before entering, Abrax caught a glimpse of Orion's expression again—that quiet determination beneath the composed exterior.
He wasn't just hopeful.
He was planning.
And when Orion Black planned, the world eventually shifted to make room.
Abrax smirked.
"Well then," he murmured, smoothing his robes, silver-tongued confidence returning."Let's go educate the educator."
They stepped forward into Dumbledore's office.
*******
"So yes, professor there are quite a few changes needed in your curriculum" Orion said, his tone firm but polite, a hint of command in his voice.
Abarax nodded, leaning back slightly in his chair. "And we'll address those matters in detail during the next board meeting."
Dumbledore, sitting behind his desk with a knowing twinkle in his eyes, clasped his hands together. "Then, gentlemen, I look forward to that discussion. In the meantime, I will arrange for someone to fetch your young Mister Blacks."
Orion inclined his head in acknowledgment, a small smile playing on his lips.
Moments later, Sirius and Regulus entered the office, both looking mildly confused but curious.
"Let's go," Orion said briskly, motioning for his sons to follow him.
Sirius and Regulus nodded politely at Dumbledore before joining Orion.
"It was nice meeting you again, Lord Dumbledore," Orion added, his tone formal yet cordial. He then activated the floo network with a wave of his wand, stepping through to the Black mansion. Sirius and Regulus followed closely, disappearing into the green flames.
Abarax lingered for a moment, offering Dumbledore a charming smile. "Always a pleasure, Professor. Until next time."
With that, he activated the floo network himself, vanishing to the Malfoy mansion in a swirl of green flame.
Dumbledore sat back in his chair, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips as he watched the room settle once more. "Ah, the winds of change," he murmured softly to himself. "Always such an unpredictable force."
*******
"This… this isn't Grimmauld Place, Father," Sirius said slowly, eyes sweeping the vast entrance hall as they stepped inside.
"No," Orion replied, removing his gloves as a house-elf appeared with a soft pop. "Because this is the Black Mansion."
The elf bowed low."Tippy will take Master's robes!"
"Tippy, bring refreshments," Orion instructed, tone firm but not unkind.
"Yes, Master Orion!" She vanished again.
Regulus looked around, frowning at the unfamiliar corridors and polished marble—so different from the suffocating gloom of the Grimmauld place.
"But… the Black mansion is in France," he said, confused.
"There's one there," Sirius answered before their father could speak. "But this one—only the Head of the House can access it. No one else, unless given permission. Which is why we've never been here."
Orion arched a brow—but said nothing.
The boys followed him deeper into the mansion. It wasn't dark. It wasn't cold. It wasn't covered in portraits scowling down from every corner.
Instead, the halls radiated power—quiet, old, undeniable. Magic pulsed faintly through the walls with every step, ancient runes buried beneath polished stone.
No dust. No decay.This place wasn't just maintained.
It was alive.
Sirius exhaled softly, almost in awe."…What? I trained as heir before Mother threw me out of the house," he muttered defensively when Orion's smirk formed. "Remember?"
Orion walked into the study and took his seat behind an obsidian-trimmed desk, gaze sharp.
"Sirius," he said, voice firm. "One—no one except me can banish a Black or strip them of their magic. And two—do not call that woman your mother."
Sirius froze.
"So… I'm still in the family?" His voice was quiet—not sarcastic, not angry. Just uncertain.
Orion's expression softened just enough to be real.
"Son," he said, leaning back, "once a Black, always a Black. Whether we shine… or fall. Our loyalty may be twisted, but it is unbreakable. Even our squibs manage businesses under our name in the Muggle world. We do not discard our blood."
He snorted.
"Even useless fools like your uncle Alphard. Merlin's sake—running around like a pirate and embarrassing us across Europe."
Sirius huffed a short laugh—surprised, reluctant… relieved.
Meanwhile, Regulus wandered the study—hands clasped behind him, observing. Books, artifacts, maps… all signs that Orion spent more time here than anyone ever knew.
Then he stopped.
A framed photograph sat on the shelf.
A wedding photo.
His father, younger but unmistakably proud, dressed in deep emerald robes embroidered with silver runes. He wasn't posing for the camera—he was looking at the woman beside him as though the world had narrowed to only her.
She wore a breathtaking white gown, glittering with diamonds—yet a simple gold chain around her neck stood out strangely against the extravagance.
Red powder—vermillion—marked the parting of her hair. A symbol Regulus did not understand.
Her caramel skin, soft smile, and the delicate tiara made her look almost ethereal.
Regulus frowned, stunned.
It was the same woman—The one Sirius had found in hidden photographs few days ago.
A woman they had never met.A woman no one had spoken of.
Not a lover.
A wife.
Regulus swallowed.
"Father… who is she?" His voice trembled slightly. "And why didn't—why didn't we know?"
Sirius turned too—eyes guarded, but not cold anymore.
For the first time in years… they looked at Orion not as a distant patriarch.
But as a man.
Orion's gaze fixed on the photograph.
And for a heartbeat—his mask cracked.
"Her name," he said quietly, "was Vishaka."
The room fell silent.
Not heavy.Not hostile.
Just… full of things finally ready to be spoken.