Illusory § Order of the Phoenix

IX. RISK MANAGEMENT

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      There was something to be said about the showcase of house elves that lined the wall of the main staircase. Perhaps it was because they were severed heads on plaques. This macabre gift of honour wasn't an unfamiliar sight. As a child, he had seen similar practices at Mercier Manor, home to House Mercier and a family of the Nine. Their wealth came from the breeding of winged horses and other magical creatures. The specialty of House Mercier lay in their breed of abraxans. Each member of the Mercier family had to raise an abraxan from birth; to train and care for them as long as they live. Upon death, the wings of the abraxan are severed and preserved, later becoming a display over the tomb of their rider. Should a Mercier die before their mount, the abraxan joins them in solidarity.

Antares couldn't tell why his family decided to mount these heads on the wall, but he doubted it had anything to do with respect. If he were to guess, based on Kreacher's ramblings, Antares would've chalked it up to pureblood mania. Kreacher couldn't wait to join his brethren, as he often stared at the heads when he wasn't attending to Walburga's portrait.

Antares had successfully avoided his grandmother these past few days. Thankfully, she stayed covered by the curtains Remus had drawn over her earlier. When he questioned Sirius about her, his uncle was short with him,   telling him not to waste his time. He understood why Sirius was dismissive when asked about her, but a part of him wanted to uncover everything about his father's life. This house, filled with secrets and lost things, kept Antares in a state of nagging curiosity. Sirius didn't understand it. He wanted nothing more than to bury the past.

Cole tried to warn him about this. He told him not to get his hopes up. And for the most part, Antares didn't. He kept to himself and tried to learn on his own. It helped that the Black family kept a nice collection of books marking their history of achievements. Well, 'nice' might be an exaggeration. Some of the things Antares read were downright barbaric. Elladora Black started severing house elf heads as a child? Psychotic. Phineas Nigellus cancelled Quidditch because of an injury? Preposterous. Alphard Black earned most of his personal fortune through illegal gambling? Hilarious, actually.

In all honesty, Antares couldn't explain it himself. Whether he liked it or not, this was part of his father's legacy. He's the only heir of the House of Black, just as he remains the heir of the House of Kelly. Antares would always be a Kelly. Never once did he want to be otherwise. Maybe, one day, when this war ends, he'll be free to take up the mantle of the Black name.

He'd have to think about it.

Then Antares heard hurried footsteps from the kitchen. Harry had made his fated return, and any peace held in Grimmauld Place was quickly demolished. Antares heard different voices shouting. Dreading the worst, he removed himself from his thoughts. If Harry botched the trial, Antares would be stuck in this house for the rest of the year. As he started down the stairs, he realized he was wrong in his horrible assumption.