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For however long Arcturus has lived, he had no reason to believe he could be surprised anymore. After surviving his wife, son, and youngest grandson, bearing witness to the fall of the Black name, there was nothing he thought that could shake him. Spending the rest of his years quietly in the reclusive Black Castle, otherwise known to their clan as the Planetarium, was one of the more peaceful ways a member of their family will be known to pass. The castle's house-elves as his companions, along with the trip every other day to the muggle town farther down outside the estate, it was a more than satisfying way of life he could say so himself. The occasional visit from his daughter, Lucretia, more than made up for the loneliness that could have made itself home in him. Samhain, Yule, all tradition their family has stood up for, she made sure to never miss it with him even when she was busy gallivanting all over the globe for the rest of the year.
But it seems, even in his later years, the fates had other plans for the Black family. And it started with a letter from his great-niece.
He couldn't believe it.
He hadn't even met the young girl, and she had already stunned him. But he dare not hold out hope. For a renaissance of the Black name, of their family blood and magicks, of their position in society. He held no illusions of what the public thought of them now, even if it still held its old prestige... no, not until he meets her himself.
And that's how he found himself awaiting visitors. He had invited them over for afternoon tea, and he sat waiting in the jewel-like conservatory in one of his gardens, surrounded by his prize-winning orchids.
Seeing them walk towards him, he almost mistook her for his cousin Dorea when they were younger, from her ivory skin to the sleek black curls bouncing on her head as she walked. Yet from afar, he could already tell she didn't possess the Black mercurial eyes. No, they were a startling emerald green. It seems that muggleborn's genes were strong despite the mixed blood of two Blacks in her veins.
What shocked him even more though was what rested on her tiny fingers. The Potter and Black crests shining on her left pointer and middle finger, heirship rings. His eyes widened in the realization of the power this tiny girl possessed.
Claiming heirships were usually held on the young magical's 11th birthday, as it was the age where their core begins to take form, different from the wild blob that causes their accidental magics.
For her to be able to claim them this young, for two Ancient and Noble family magicks to accept her as the heir spoke only of her true potential.
Yes, it seems that Arcturus Black can hold out hope.
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When Aster first saw Diagon Alley, she couldn't believe the amount of magic she saw winding through the air, and she thought there to be no place to be more magical than this. But then she saw Malfoy Manor. With its towering rose bushes like a maze, to the white peacocks lazily grazing on the front lawn, to the enchanting manor that stood in the centre of it all. Magic permeated the air like a cloak swaddling a child, it was almost suffocating for her as someone who has only ever been around muggles and their technology.
