Paris, 1928
The rain fell in gusts in the streets of the capital. There was not a cat in sight, not even a rat. The cobblestones were oozing with icy water, the sky was rumbling, steady and threatening. A raven had landed on the gutter of a building. Its feathers seemed too heavy to fly; the weather had caught it unawares. When he tried to shake himself off, a jet-colored remige fell. Gorged with water, it twirled in the air, incessantly destabilized by the unsightly drops. The black eyes of the bird watched it fall.
The deserted alley welcomed her with benevolence. As she came dangerously close to the ground, a loud "crack" pushed her a few centimeters further. After a few twirls, she landed quietly on the stone. In front of her, black polished shoes. She had hardly landed when the man took hold of her tip and lifted her. The umbrella protected her from the deluge. He raised it towards the sky, his pupils scrutinizing its details with attention. His facial muscles tensed, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Yes, it was her. Her color was far too deep to come from a mere bird. His gaze changed direction. It fell on the building and the small figure which had planted itself there and waited.
"You can come down" he said. "It's me."
The echo repeated his words several times. Any stranger would have thought he was talking to himself, but Regulus Black didn't care. The raven understood. He slowly revealed his wings, like an eagle preparing for the hunt, and suddenly flew away. His jet feathers turned into a thick black smoke, his body was mixed with it and his head drowned in it. The process was quick. The ebony vortex lengthened as it plunged into the void. A foot landed where the feather had landed moments before. The solid build of a young man took shape. A subtle smile stretched his lips and he looked into the eyes of his younger brother.
"I thought you were going to leave me here for several more years."
They embraced, patting each other on the back as was their custom. The umbrella in the middle didn't seem to bother them. They hadn't seen each other for months. Regulus had had to stay in London to support Fawley against Spencer-Moon's attacks, the latter wanting to take his place as Minister of Magic. Arcturus, on the other hand, had settled the final affairs of the divorce. Except that his situation had become slightly more delicate in recent weeks.
"Did you manage to get anything out of Vinda?"
"With difficulty, but yes. The fact that Grindelwald knew we were coming was a big help."
His tone was serene, but Regulus was not foolish enough to believe that his older brother felt nothing. He had loved Vinda like crazy during their first years of marriage. The fact that their union had been arranged had not slowed him down in his passion. She, on the other hand, had had other plans. When she joined Grindelwald, Arcturus let his rage explode. He had tried to find her, but the dark mage was on the move, and Europe was large. With no news of her, melancholy had eventually covered his anger and Vinda Rosier had turned into a mere memory. Until she reappeared from nowhere and asked for a divorce.
"He's the one who matters now. Pretend she didn't exist."
His jaw tightened, but he didn't answer. The two brothers went into an alley. Regulus' sole stepped on a water-soaked newspaper that still read "GRINDELWALD RETURNS TO POWER IN EUROPE". The watered-down ink had once read "Two hundred muggles killed at a sports meet in Germany". As the Black elders moved forward, the signs multiplied. Poorly pasted on the stone walls, some called for peace, others for the total eradication of non-magics. Arcturus looked away and concentrated on the road ahead. Regulus hadn't even noticed them. They came to an avenue where a few passers-by were running from the rain, a dog was barking, and an owl with its leg torn off was hobbling along the sidewalk. Blood was flowing from its wound. Arcturus lifted his wand in pity. His brother had continued on his way indifferently.
"Suffering is not worthy of a weak person," he murmured.
An "Avada Kadavra" followed his words. The dog fell silent. Regulus turned around, already a few meters ahead. He sighed as he noticed the dead bird.
"Hurry up, we're already late."
Five minutes later, they had arrived in front of a Haussmann-style building on the edge of the Muggle quarter. Arcturus thought that his former wife was inside. He had no desire to see her again, or even to meet her again.
He had no desire to see her, or even to meet her powerful green eyes again, but did he have a choice? Perhaps this encounter would lead to the ascension of the House of Black. He took out his wand and cast a spell. Nothing happened at first. The wood of the door remained exactly the same, as did the entire building. Suddenly, the handle turned slowly. A creaking sound came from the opening, inviting the two brothers to enter.
A long corridor greeted them. Regulus had no confidence in this place. The air smelled musty and a gray dust covered the floor. A staircase led them to the floor. The luminosity was poor, so he didn't manage to discern the arrangement of the room when he entered the living room, but after a few minutes he managed to recognize two motionless figures. The first was facing the fireplace, hands behind his back, looking pensive. His white hair was standing on his head without any care. His costume, however, showed his nobility and importance. It didn't take him long to recognize his former sister-in-law next to him. Vinda Rosier had her arms crossed over her chest. Leaning against the wall, she watched them with a certain irony in her eyes. Arcturus' fists clenched.
"The Black brothers," Grindelwald said in a deep voice. "What a long way you've come to get here."
"Paris is always worth it," replied Regulus courteously.
"In the old days, I would have said the same thing."
He faced them. The white eye seemed to stare at Arcturus with interest, while Regulus felt the darkness pierce his soul. A shiver ran down his spine. With his head held high, he looked at them with great curiosity. He finally chose to focus on the older. A sneer stretched his lips.
-Vinda told me about you.
"On bad terms, I suppose," Arcturus grinned.
He didn't even look at her. His whole being seemed to forbid it.
"You might be surprised."
Regulus was skeptical, especially given the glint of mischief in the young woman's eyes, but he refrained from saying anything. Grindelwald decided to change places and walked around the two brothers. His footsteps made the floor creak.
"I returned to Paris only for the curiosity of meeting members of the Black family. One of the most feared families in England, I've heard. The purest and most prestigious lineage."
"These sayings date back to our grandfather's time," Regulus began to explain, not sure if this was the right thing to do. "When Phineus Nigellus Black ran Hogwarts and Venusia Crickerly, a distant relative of the Blacks, ran the Ministry, we rose higher than any family could ever aspire. But then Dumbledore came along and..."
"... he stole your prestige. Your supremacy."
Regulus nodded slowly.
"We became as influential and important as bloody half-bloods. He wasn't even principal at the time, but his influence was enough to bring us down."
"So you come to me to regain your place in magical society and have a chance to dominate the other families because you know I have the power. And because we share the same cause."
Grindelwald placed his hands on Regulus' shoulders. With his back to the dark mage, the young man could only let him do so.
"I understand your rage. I understand it perfectly."
A short silence followed his words. Vinda lifted her chin.
"But what do you have to give me in return? Nothing. Your family has risen through many favors. Out of fear, or respect. Dumbledore stole those favors from you, and you became dust."
Regulus struggled to swallow. Grindelwald finally took his hands off his jacket and stepped back. Arcturus knew he was about to leave. Their luck was slipping out of their hands, but they hadn't come all this way for this abject failure. On impulse, he turned and said in a loud voice:
"Yes, we can offer you something."
The black mage stopped. Vinda raised an eyebrow. Her small, satisfied smile had vanished. Regulus looked at her curiously. But Arcturus continued, for this was their only chance to regain their rightful power.
"Something, or rather someone. Our cousin, Cassiopeia."
"Stop it," hissed her brother as quietly as possible, who had finally understood what he was getting at.
However, Arcturus ignored him.
"She's only thirteen, but she promises to be a formidable witch. She already proclaims her values as a Black and commands respect at Hogwarts. She is a studious, powerful student. I taught her the art of dueling myself.
"My brother doesn't know what he's doing."
"She could help you in the future. England remains closed to you because of Dumbledore's presence, but she could become your eyes and ears."
"I have Vinda for that," he replied in a harsh voice.
"But Vinda is no longer part of the pureblood English community. She is known as a dangerous partisan. Dumbledore knows who she is, and who she joined."
"And why your cousin in particular?"
"Because she is the only one who so deeply desires the rise of the Blacks. She is young, of course. But that desire will only grow with age."
"And if she refuses to serve me?"
"She won't."
Grindelwald finally turned around, piqued by interest.
"It's obvious that this offer works to my advantage."
He pursed his lip. Vinda looked displeased. Her reaction pleased Arcturus greatly. After a few minutes of reflection, he finally seemed decided.
"I won't forget your proposal. Let's wait until your cousin is a reasonable age. I am sure that, as you say, she will be destined to become a great witch. And to become one, perhaps, by my side. Who knows what the future holds."
He smiled thinly and left the living room. Although he hadn't said the word "accept," Arcturus could finally see hope. In a few years, the House of Black would finally be able to reclaim its place, and Cassiopeia wouldn't refuse to offer herself to Grindelwald for that. And even if she wanted to, he would stop her. Vinda walked past him but stopped just outside the doorway.
"The Blacks aren't the only ones who aspire to power. You are not the kings."
"Arcturus smiled. His ebony eyes looked into those of his former wife."
"My dear, we both know that not even the Rosier could aspire to such power."
She let out an incredulous little laugh and glared at him.
"We'll see about that, Black. That's what we'll see."