The snow fell thick and heavy against the Black manor's rooftop, turning its turrets into icy spires and its gargoyles into hunched creatures made of ice.
Inside, a change was underway — not dramatic or cinematic, but a slow, deliberate shift.
With their ability to become wolf and fox, Rigel and Dora awoke the following morning a little more assured in their magic, a little more comfortable in their skins.
After exiting their respective rooms they made their way to the study where Lord Arcturus was waiting for them.
"It's time you learned more about our family's past… and future." he said as he made his way towards a sprawling chamber filled with documents, black leather-bound books, and strange instruments — a place where decisions were made and fates were forged.
He opened a hidden drawer and drew forth a parchment, its ink shimmering a deep purple-black under the glow of the lamps. "This is the Black Grimoire. The most dangerous, and the most powerful, collection of knowledge we possess." His piercing gaze fell upon Rigel and Dora in turn.
"Your training has prepared you to use it. Whatever knowledge you uncover… whatever path you choose… will shape the future of this family."
As their hands fell upon the parchment, sparks flew and the page opened itself. A rush of magic flowed through the room — names of ancestors, forgotten ceremonies, hidden spaces — knowledge that belonged to their family's legacy.
The days that followed were quieter, more purposeful. Rigel and Dora fell into a routine — training in the dimly lit corridors, practicing their ability to transform, and pouring over the Black Grimoire's fragile pages.
The Grimoire seemed alive in its own way. Whenever Rigel turned a page, strange annotations appeared in the margins — notes in a spidery hand, messages from ancestors who'd walked these halls generations before.
It seemed to respond to him, adding its voice to his understanding of Black magic — a deep, elemental form of pure power tied to blood, will, and legacy.
Dora noticed it as well. Certain chapters opened to her more easily than to Rigel — chapters filled with protective wards, healing rituals, and ancient magic that seemed to align with her quieter, more subtle nature.
The two fell into their roles naturally, not by choice, but by the pull of their ancestry — Rigel, a keeper of knowledge meant to conquer; Dora, a guardian meant to safeguard.
Some nights, when the rest of the Black manor fell into a deep silence, Rigel remained in the study, a single candle his only light, trying to piece together the messages hidden in the margins.
His ancestors seemed to be guiding him — not overtly, not with a dramatic manifestation — but in small, persistent ways.
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The time passed in the blink of an eye, and now both Rigel and Dora were no longer children but young teens — nearly thirteen — their magic more refined, their personalities increasingly defined by their training and ancestry.
The years had been filled with discipline, but also with companionship. Rigel and Dora trained side by side, challenged each other, supported each other.
Where Rigel mastered combative and protective magic, Dora fell into a more specialized path to honour her mother— transformation, protective wards, and healing — a set of skills less dramatic in battle, but profoundly powerful in their own right.
Between the two of them, there was a balance — a deep understanding — that made their magic more than the sum of its parts.In many ways, their bond seemed a kind of refuge within the Black manor.
Among the stern portraits, the hidden corridors, and the oppressive silence of the ancestral home, Rigel and Dora found in each other a friend — someone who understood their doubts, their ambitions, and their disappointments — without needing to put it into words.
They crossed the manor side by side — through the dimly lit study, the rooftop walkways, and the ancient salons — not as distant allies, but as best friends bound by a shared past and future.
There were moments when a simple look between them was enough to convey a feeling, a thought — a rare peace in a world filled with expectation.
As their thirteen birthday approached, Lord Black called them into his study once more.
"It's time you entered the world beyond these walls." His voice was firm, decisive. "Hogwarts will be your greatest challenge yet — not a trial of pure power, but of character. There you will learn who you truly are… and who you may become."
Rigel nodded quietly, already thinking about the possibilities — the knowledge hidden in its corridors, the friendships and enemies to be made — but this time, whatever lay ahead, it would be alongside Dora.
Dora remained silent, her hands knotted in her lap, unsure whether the castle's ancient magic would be friend or adversary. But when Rigel pressed his shoulder against hers in a silent vow of loyalty, her doubts seemed to ease, if only a little.
The Black children were about to step into a world much larger, much more dangerous, and much more unpredictable. Whatever lay ahead, it would shape their future — and the future of their family — in ways none of them could yet see.
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Author's notes.
Please give me power stones.