THERE IS SOMETHING HAUNTING
IN THE LIGHT OF THE MOON;
IT HAS ALL THE DISPASSIONATENESS OF A DISEMBODIED SOUL
- joseph conrad
It goes like this,
The moon was alone.
High in the nightsky. Lonely, as mortals may be fond to say.
Isolated in that endless darkness of hers, were she was bound to stay for the rest of her inmortal existence. All that one might do, from her position is observe.
And so she did. Watching from above at Earth, her only companion, at its silly humans. Useless creatures, she thought. Creaturas that have, despite all odds, crowned themselves as the rulers of the water-planet. Thet were not the strongest, nor the biggest. Deemed themselves the smartest but the Moon was not so sure. She had never been so fascinated before. They held such power in their hearts and tongues, creating civilizations to watch them burn to the ground, creating art and tearing it to shreads, creating their own joys only to burrow them with handmade sorrows. She has no other option but to watch on at how they destruct Earth, destruct themselves with their useless wars and their irrelevant causes for them. Empires rise. Then they fall. Nature is dying. Everything in their reality is crooked.
And despite the wrongness of it all, the moon watches them grow. Watches how the children learn how to give their first steps and soon after, raise giggling after one another. Watches how babbling evolves into words and words into sentences, and soon enough you have children talking their parents' ears off. Watches how they learn to write their witty, little thoughts down and how to read them outloud; and how to use the same pencils to doodle themselves with messed up versions of their friends. Watches how they make friends and then make much more than that, how they wait impatiantely for a first kiss and then give them away from free. Watches how the anguishes about an uncertain future transforms into hopes to get a dream job or get married and have children or both. Watches how their feet become solid over the Earth and they form their own path. Watches how the cycle repeats itself in a thousand different of manners but with the same undescriptible spirit.
The moon watches her neighbours inner life and then, envious, looks down at herself. The Earth is lucky, she thinks, he won't ever be lonely. He has more than a million children, even if they are destroying him, Earth loves them.
Yes, the moon is lonely as mortars may be fond to say. But she is no mortal, she is not fond of anything.
What the moon is, is alone, high in the sky. Isolated in that endless darkness of hers, were she was formed and was bound to stay for the rest of her nights.
During one of those moonlight skies, the Moon decides she, too, will bear children into this world. But her grounds are cold and barren, no life can lay it's roots there. There is no fertility in her touch. She is no mother.
The dilema turns in her mind for centuries, until the Earth, conscious of the desires and despair of his closest friend, offers to give shelter to any children she might have. Delighted, the Moon agrees. This way she will watch them grow, knowing that they are hers to shape.
The moon builts the perfect children for herself: gifts them with thick hair made with threads of the inky nightsky and her silver glow for their eyes. She makes sure to give them cunnning minds to conquer their way into an important mind. Plants the seeds of ambition, and makes sure they have the habilities within themselves to make them bloom. But most importantly, she blesses them with the universe's legacy: magic
And at first, her beautiful children are smart enough to keep all of their gifts given. They live long, worthy lives and die at peace, surrounded with another generation of starry-eyed offsprings surrounding them.
But as centuries pass, this bloodline of hers grow bold. The moon starts to think she might have made a mistake when the witch trials start. When the children of the children of her children put an end to it, she is sure that those that had deemed themselves the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black will be the Earth's doom.
It goes like this,
The children of the Moon only grow bolder as the years pass. Reckless. Primitive creatures that want to swallow the world whole and can't even chew the consequences of their own desires. They start messing with darker subjects, with things that would have been better to be left alone. Black magic, is what mortals took to call it, much to every celestial being dismay.
Afterwards, when this silver creatutes start creating spells and poisons and their name starts to hold weight, it sort of sticks. They have black hair, wander the worlds dressed in black clothes and wield black, terrible magic. People start whispering warnings behind their backs: The Blacks are coming.
Its the warning mothers give their babies to get them to do as they say: If you don't go to bed, the Blacks will come and take you!
Generation after generation grow into adulthood, terrified of the Blacks. Everytime they are in front of them, they are seven again and running into their beds scared that the darkness of the night will swallow them whole.
It takes one drop of blood to contaminate the ocean, it took a magical child to built a wizarding society. The Blacks never let anyone forget that if they have this blessing is because of their blood, they put themselves at the top of the food chain and they devour.
To their heirs, they teach their ancient ways. The Blacks teach their childs how to listen to what the moon is slipping into their ears.
The stars above us shine, mother say to their sons. They are bright, and big, and had been dead for centuries. But we are alive. And we are just as bright and big.
The blood in your veins runs pure, father says to their daughters, and no one's blood is as perfect as ours.
The world is ours, brothers say to sisters, to hold and behold.
Ours, ours, ours- the stars chorus.
Everyone that isn't us, sisters says to brothers, is an enemy.
It goes like this,
The Blacks conquer.
They built their dynasty on wicked magic and long-forgotten secrets. Every witch and wizard learn to fear their celestial names.
They have their own holy, godly Mother on their side. It is said that her moonlight sneaks into their dreams at night and whisper the future; and that's why they are always one step ahead and you should never cross them. They hold the future between their rotten fingers.
Until Sirius Black, against all prophecies, is sorted into Gryffindor and all hell breaks loose.
Author's note: if your family doesn't name each member after a star because they believe themselves to be corporal celestial beings that are above everyone else are you really serving cunt?