Everybody knows the noble and most ancient house of Black, a British-French pureblood family whose use of magic was as dark as the nightsky and their folk as dangerous as assassins. Their newest heir is no different from her ancestors.
The year is...
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POLARIS HAD LAUGHED as soon as she came downstairs and saw the stunned and shocked look on Harry's face.
"Your-?"
"My dear old mum, yeah," said Sirius. "We've been trying to get her down for a month but we think she put a Permanent Sticking Charm on the back of the canvas. Let's get downstairs, quick, before they all wake up again."
Polaris interrupted him at that, "But also because she's nice to me and I want her to still be there. It's my house after all."
"But what's a portrait of your mother, and your grandmother, doing here?" Harry asked confused as the three of them went through the door from the hall and led the way down a flight of narrow stone steps, the others just behind them.
"Hasn't anyone told you? This was my parents' house, well, now hers" said Sirius and pointed to Polaris. "But we're the last Blacks left, so it's ours now. I offered it to Dumbledore for headquarters - about the only useful thing I've been able to do."
Polaris cut him off at that, "Well, theoretically it's mine and Sirius offered it to Dumbledore and the Order without my permission. I think I scared him a bit as he told me." The Black heiress glared at her uncle at that who shrugged and quickly looked away.
Harry and Polaris both noticed how hard and bitter Sirius's voice sounded. They followed Sirius to the bottom of the stairs and through a door leading into the basement kitchen.
It was scarcely less scary than the hall above. A spacious room with rough stone walls. Most of the light was coming from a large fire at the far end of the room which was connected to the Floo-Network. A haze of pipe smoke hung in the air like fumes from a battle. Through the haze came the many shapes of heavy iron pots and pans hanging from the dark ceiling into view. Many chairs had been crammed into the room for the meeting and a long wooden table stood in the middle of the room. The table was littered with rolls of parchment, goblets, empty wine bottles and what looked like a heap of old rags. Arthur Weasley and Bill were talking quietly with their heads together at the end of the table, just beside the head of it. Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat and Arthur looked around before he jumped to his feet.
"Harry!" Mr. Weasley said, hurrying forward to greet him and shaking his hand vigorously. "Good to see you! And I see you met him as well, Polaris! He's quite the marvelous kid, isn't he?"
Polaris nodded politely and offered, "He's just lovely."
Polaris and Harry saw Bill, who still wore his long hair in a ponytail, hastily rolling up the lengths of parchment left on the table. "Journey all right, Harry?" Bill called, trying to gather up twelve scrolls at once. "Mad-Eye didn't make you come via Greenland then?"
"He tried," said Tonks, striding over to help Bill and immediately sending a candle toppling onto the last piece of parchment. "Oh no- sorry -"
"Do you need any help or am I not even allowed to touch your rolled up papers?" Polaris called out as she wandlessly put out the small fire that started and lifted the candle back in its place. Tonks smiled at her in a thankful manner and Bill grimaced as he shook his hand.
