Castle Nocturnum was an architectural marvel of ancient magical design, rising with imposing elegance from the cliffs beside the cold, mist-veiled waters of Buttermere Lake; once called Mysticmere Lake. Shrouded in shadow and mystery, the fortress had long stood as a testament to the arcane mastery and aristocratic legacy of the House of Black.
Its earliest foundations had been laid as far back as 2400 BCE, carved into the cliff itself, though the current structure was raised by Scorpius Black nearly thirteen centuries ago, shaped by now forbidden and secret enchantments and bound to the surrounding land by blood and oath. Beneath the castle, hidden deep within the bedrock and the lake's submerged caverns, lay the Black Crypts, a vast, ancient necropolis where generations of the family had been entombed, guarded by spells older than Britain itself.
Carved partly into the living rock, the castle's foundations merged seamlessly with the crags of the cliffside. Terraces spiralled upward in graceful symmetry, forming hanging gardens and secluded stone courtyards. These were filled with rare, enchanted flora such as silver-stemmed nightshade, mourning lilies, and trailing lunar ivy that shimmered faintly in the moonlight. The terraces served not only as serene spaces but also as functional duelling grounds, landing stations for magical beasts, and take-off points for broom travel.
Tall towers crowned with sharply spired teal roofs pierced the misty sky, their enchanted stones immune to frost, time, and ruin. Bridges arched between the turrets, exposed to wind and starlight, allowing swift passage across the structure's many levels. From above, the castle resembled an intricate web of towers and walkways clinging to the edge of the world.
At the centre stood the narrow, vertical keep, a towering structure that rose like a wand pointed skyward. Its slim windows glowed with soft, golden torchlight, though many remained sealed with ancient wards. Balconies jutted from the stone walls, offering sweeping views of the lake and mountains, ideal for study, meditation, or silent communion with the stars.
Near the base of the fortress lay a wide, circular platform etched with arcane sigils only visible beneath moonlight or in the presence of magic. It was used for rituals, invocations, and gatherings known only to the inner circle of the family, most of which had not been performed since the formation of the British Ministry of Magic.
Every stone, staircase, and shadow of Castle Nocturnum had been steeped in enchantment. Muggle eyes and their devices saw nothing but barren rock and windswept slopes. Then again, they could not even make it into this region without getting lost in the enchantments. To those of magical blood, it had once stood as a place of great secrecy, power, and pride, a true sanctum of the Blacks.
Now, after centuries of desolation, it had life again, and Altair, who was sharing the vision with Strix, stared at it in awe.
In the distance, shrouded in mist, far into the lake, he could also see Lestrange Castle, dark, imposing, with beautiful gardens. Not far away from it, further into the woods, was Rosier Castle; grand, imposing, and radiant with its own magical gardens.
Deeper into the woods was Greengrass Manor, built on the foundation of the ancient Mournwyl Castle, next to the river that flowed into the lake.
Further up the river, into the hills, was the magical and unique residence of the Dumbledore family, which was unoccupied and sealed for now, awaiting its Pure-blood heir and next Head.
There were also the Twin Keeps of the ancient Peverell family situated on the bank of the lake, one of which was now the ancestral home of the Potter family and the other of the Bones family. The keeps were identical except that the Potter Keep was cream in colour, and the Bones Keep was white.
Not far away from them was a newer keep, still several centuries old, and just as impressive as the twins it had been raised to resemble. It was the keep of House Diggory, much darker in colour and also larger.
Far from the Twin Keeps, in the lake, atop a cliff, stood another impressive keep, just as ancient, magical, and beautiful. It once belonged to the House of Weasley, connected to the land by two bridges, and it was clear that it was inspired by Castle Nocturnum, though it was just a keep, not a castle.
Next, he saw Selwyn Hall, a magical residence, a drum-like, vast castle by the side of the lake. It was truly unique, and Altair smiled when he saw Damien and Cordelia sharing a kiss as they stood with their Aethonan horses, wearing their riding uniforms and coats against the cold.
A short while later, when Strix turned around and flew towards the forest, he saw the beautiful Sylvan Hall, the residence of House Fawley, truly a magical home resting in a clearing surrounded by towering trees.
In the far distance, he glimpsed the silhouette of Ravenclaw Tower as well, but then he opened his eyes as he sensed Fruska pop beside him.
"Master Altair, your grandparents are waiting for you." The House-elf respectfully informed him, and he stood up and took Fruska's hand, who teleported him directly from Grimmauld Hall to Castle Nocturnum, also called the Black Castle.
He found himself inside the dining hall, and his grandparents, who looked more like they were in their middle years than a couple in their nineties, were standing next to the chimney, chatting with each other.
Since they were twins, they resembled each other greatly, and his grandmother rushed up to him as soon as she glanced his way.
"My Noir!" She affectionately called out, and smiled brightly as he entered her arms.
Viviane Morvaine hugged him for a long while, inhaling his scent and holding back her tears, and when they separated, she cupped his cheeks and planted a kiss on his forehead.
The motherly smile on her face warmed his heart, and even though it had been four years since he last saw her, he could still sense the overwhelming love she held for him.
"My, my, my Noir is growing into the most handsome wizard in history." She smiled again and leaned in to nudge his nose with hers, making him laugh.
Next, he met his grandfather, Orion Morvaine, who hugged him and nearly knocked all the breath out of his lungs.
"Still too weak, eh, Altair?"
"I am not even twelve yet, Grandfather..." he answered, smiling, and enjoyed as the old man put him down and ruffled his hair. "You will be twelve soon, and since you will be at Hogwarts on your birthday, I suppose we should give you your gift now."
He failed to hold back his excitement, as gifts from his grandfather were always his favourites.
"How about a... pair of Hippogriffs?"
"Yes!"
"Or maybe... Granians..."
"Hippogriffs!" Altair answered without hesitation.
"Granians are faster." Orion pointed out, but the young Morvaine shook his head.
"They are, but they cannot soar above the clouds like Hippogriffs, nor can they dive as swiftly. Also, they are not as agile and manoeuvrable either."
The old man laughed at his words and nodded.
"How about... both?"
"We already have Granians, Grandfather..." he reminded the old man, who adopted a thoughtful pose.
"I suppose you are right."
"Hippogriffs, Grandfather. You hardly need to care for them; they hunt on their own." He tried to convince the old man, and heard his grandmother giggle at his antics.
"Oh, all right. I suppose old Scamander was right. You really do like Hippogriffs a lot."
"Magister Scamander?"
"Yes," Orion nodded. "He offered to sell a pair of Hippogriffs to me. Aquilla and her mate, Archion... I am pretty sure he is asking too much. Four thousand Galleons for the pair and the licence... claims they are the finest Hippogriffs in the world, a line bred by his mother..."
"They are the best Hippogriffs in the world!" Altair exclaimed, and his grandfather grinned. "You already know that!"
"I do." Orion laughed and patted his shoulder. "Which is why I bought them. They are in the Sky Enclosure of the castle."
"You are the best!" He hugged his grandfather, who laughed some more.
"Altair!" Viviane stopped him just as he was about to rush out to meet Aquilla and Archion.
"Yes, Grandmother?"
"Breakfast?" She looked at him disapprovingly, and he smiled sheepishly.
"Of course."
Seeing his reaction, she giggled, then came over to take his hand and lead him to the table.
The next moment, the table was filled with all sorts of delicious meals, courtesy of the House-elves, and the young Black frowned when he suddenly sensed a magical signature approaching the dining hall.
He turned to look at the door, which soon parted, revealing a young girl with flaming golden hair, regal through and through, and enchantingly beautiful despite only being thirteen years old, same as Fleur.
Interestingly enough, both girls were born on the same day: 1st September, 1977.
Altair was not exactly excited to see her, but he still stood up from his chair in respect. After all, she was his cousin, fiancée, and the future Lady of the Morvaine Family.
"Eléonore." He greeted her with a bow and she deeply curtsied to him.
"Altair."
When they both straightened, she offered him her hand, and he gently planted a kiss on her knuckles. However, before he could guide her to her seat, she stepped forward and lowered her eyes, waiting for something.
Altair sighed in his heart and stepped forward to plant a kiss on her forehead, which made her smile.
Seeing their interaction, his grandparents smiled in satisfaction. After all, Eléonore was chosen by them as the future Lady of the Morvaine Family, and she was chosen when Altair was only two years old.
Thankfully, another person entered the hall, and it was an aged lady, seemingly in her fifties, but she had been born in 1911, which meant that she was almost eighty years old.
"Granna." Seeing her, Altair quickly moved past his fiancée and hugged the old lady, who was the lifelong mistress of his grandfather, making her his grandaunt, but he always called her Granna.
"Our Noir." She called him with the same nickname, now his magical title. "I hope you do not mind me taking your Hippogriffs for a ride. I wanted to see whether Newt Scamander's claims had any truth to them."
"And?" He smiled knowingly.
"They are the finest Hippogriffs I have ever ridden."
He grinned at her words and nodded.
"Ella took a flight too with me; ask her if you do not believe me." She said playfully, and he chuckled.
"I believe you, Granna." He said politely and helped her to her seat at the table.
Just like the traditions of the Black Family, once you began eating, you had to keep quiet.
The peaceful and silent meal lasted for well over half an hour, and once he finished, his fiancée, who was waiting for the moment, spoke some words that irritated him.
"I heard that you have been busy collecting wives and handwives, Altair." She smiled, and he furrowed his brows.
"Is there an issue?" He asked politely.
"You have not discussed these things with me."
"I do not discuss these things with Aurelia either," he said clearly. "The Patil and Carrow twins are not my handwives. They are my Dolls."
"Kind of you to call your slaves 'Dolls'." She smiled. "So, I take it that you have no interest in ever promoting them to handwives?"
"These are not decisions I can make right now, El. I have not consummated our bond yet. The Patils are bound to me for ten years after the consummation, and Carrow twins for life. The contracts were drawn by my mother. I will see what I will do with them once I am older."
Eléonore narrowed her eyes at him.
"I will not allow them to become handwives under the name of Morvaine Family. Ever." She made her stance very clear, and he respected her decision.
"You will not have to face such a day. I promise."
"Good. Let's talk about the Greengrass girls now."
He frowned at her words.
"They are only friends."
"You have no other thoughts?" She smiled sweetly. "Then again, I am sure you are aware that they carry the Curse. Oh, I saw something very interesting earlier this morning. I saw a certain girl transform into a serpent, slither into the forest, and caught her crying afterwards..."
Altair froze at what she had just revealed, and even the elders were shaken.
"Who?" He clenched his fists under the table and asked, keeping his voice low and even.
"Your dear friend, Daphne. She seems to have inherited the Maledictus genes from her mother's line, and the curse has been triggered. How unfortunate... The older is destined to be Maledictus, and the younger bound to live a frail life and die young due to Blood Malediction..." She keenly observed his reactions as she spoke.
Altair's heart began to race with anxiety, and immense sadness gripped him. However, he soon lowered his head and took a deep breath.
"Unfortunate, indeed." He sighed, much to his fiancée's confusion.
"I do not hold any malice against them, Altair. I just wanted you to know the truth and keep certain things in mind." She spoke gently, and to her relief, he nodded, accepting her words.
"I understand."
He fell silent, and a while later, his grandmother raised the question that was on all their minds.
"You are awfully calm about this, my Noir."
"I am not calm, but confident." He whispered and sighed. "It will work..."
"What will?" She asked gently.
"Blood Malediction and the Maledictus curse are incurable, Altair." His grandfather stated plainly, and frowned when he saw his grandson shake his head.
"No hereditary curse is incurable, Grandfather." He slowly stood up. "I know of a method to cure the curses in Daphne and Astoria." He whispered as he stood, but then a powerful magical presence locked him in place.
"Are you going to condemn an innocent Pure-blood family with those curses to save the two girls, Altair?"
He had never in his life heard his grandfather speak with such coldness, and even his Granna and Eléonore felt their hearts tremble.
"No, Grandfather. The cure does not involve any Dark Magic or Unforgivables. No life will be implicated, no sacrifices, but sadly, I cannot help the entire Greengrass family." He turned and met his grandfather's eyes, who regarded him for a while before lifting the magical suppression.
"Where did you find the cure?" Orion asked gently.
"I found it." He said brightly, and the next moment, Fruska appeared at his side and teleported him away.
The old man stared at the spot where he had stood, and both the old ladies were also in deep shock.
"He's not serious, is he?" Eléonore asked in dismay, but none of the adults answered her.