Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
I own nothing but the original characters I make.
Chapter 57: Visiting the House of Black
"Mmmm…" Fleamont's frown deepened the moment they arrived at the estate's doors.
"You didn't need to accompany me if it's that unpleasant for you to be here," James told his father.
"Of course I had to come. No way I could leave my child alone in such a place. And it wouldn't be proper for you to show up by yourself after I made the arrangements with Lord Pollux."
James was aware of the bad optics had he come alone. He just felt a bit bad for making his father do something he clearly disliked.
"It will be a brief visit. I just have a couple of matters to discuss with the Lord of the house."
"A couple? You only mentioned o—"
The door of the manor opened with a loud creak, revealing the face of a disgruntled house-elf.
"The Master is waiting for you."
'Kreacher?' James wondered. This one looked younger than the cranky old elf he knew, but not as young as he was expecting, and it seemed like he always had the same upset expression.
He had always presumed that this was only because the entire family died and he was left alone to care for an empty house, but it might not be the case.
James felt his father tugging at his robes to hurry up inside.
"Let's not make Lord Pollux wait. The man has a strong temper and no patience for tardiness," Fleamont told him.
James was hit by a wave of nostalgia as he entered the house. He had first gotten to know it during his childhood when his godfather allowed the Order of the Phoenix to come here.
After Sirius's death, he had inherited the place, and when he and Ginny were done with Hogwarts, they came here to live.
She had used most of his inheritance to fix the manor, and he had to admit that she did a good job at renovating it.
The current Black Manor was clean and well-organized. It was obvious that it was still being properly maintained. But it still had this dark and creepy atmosphere that Ginny had made sure to remove with the renovations.
But James had to be honest about one thing… he preferred the current look. Perhaps it was because, as an Alchemy Master, he spent most of his time locked in some dimly lit laboratory, or perhaps it was because he hated Ginny so much that the mere thought of seeing again those yellow walls she painted… made him sick to his stomach.
In the end, she had kept the house, and he never complained, just so he didn't have to see her again.
"James?" His father had stopped walking and turned to look at him. "Are you okay?… You were making some strange faces."
James got his thoughts back in order, and his expression returned to his usual calm self. "I am fine, Father. Just a slight headache, nothing serious."
"The Master's studio is on the last floor… I will escort you there." Kreacher looked disgusted by the task but still performed it.
They passed many closed doors and long dark halls but did not encounter any other member of the family on their way there.
James stopped for a moment on the floor where the dormitories were.
Since he knew which was Sirius's door, he had hoped to catch a glimpse, but everything was closed.
It was morning time, but not early enough for everyone to be asleep. Meaning that they were likely told not to interact with them before they could talk with the Patriarch.
On the last floor of the house was Lord Pollux's studio, and it might also be the only place that James had fond memories of.
This used to be his personal office during the time he lived here. And the only room where he would be left in peace.
The door opened by itself before any of them had a chance to make their presence known.
"Come in." An old but powerful voice invited them inside.
James turned around to get one last look at Kreacher, but the elf must have left the moment they arrived in front of the door.
His father, Fleamont Potter, went first, and James followed, closing the door behind him.
And then he got a good look at the current Patriarch of the Black House, Pollux Corvus Black.
The man had an imposing figure, with his tall stature and wide shoulders. He had well-kept short white hair and a clean-shaven face.
"Potter," Pollux glanced at Fleamont before turning his black eyes to him. "…and your son."
"His name is James," Fleamont added.
"Yes, I have heard a few things about him," Pollux commented.
Fleamont flinched. "You have heard of my son?…" If someone like Pollux had heard of James, it couldn't have been for anything good. Or at least that's what he first assumed.
Pollux could tell what his father was thinking and seemed to find it amusing. "So, nephew… to what do I owe the honor of this sudden visit?"
"Nephew?" James couldn't help but say it out loud.
Pollux raised an eyebrow. "You didn't tell your son that his grandmother came from this house? My little sister, Dorea Black?"
Fleamont glanced at him with an incredulous expression. "He is aware of his family tree… unless he has forgotten about it."
"No, my apologies. I was just surprised that you would refer to my father in such a familiar way. From what I understand, my grandmother was forced to cut ties with this house," James clarified.
"Ah… yes." Pollux sighed. "My father was a strict man who respected the rules above everything else, including his family. When Dorea told him that she had decided on her own who she wanted to marry, he became enraged, and… well, there is more to it, but you know how it ended."
"My mother was expelled from the house," Fleamont said with bitterness in his tone. He would never forget all the times his mother talked about it and the great sadness it brought upon her to be removed from her own house, just because she wanted to choose who to marry.
"It was truly unfortunate. But her name is still in our family tapestry. I never allowed my father to burn her name from it," Pollux explained. "But I'm sure you didn't come all the way here to complain to this old man about that."
"No, I did not," Fleamont responded before looking down at James. "It is actually my son who wishes to speak with you."
"Oh?… Is it?" Pollux stared at James with interest. "What is it that you need from me?"
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