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Chapter 27: This Wasn't in the Deal.
🕑 Added 2025-02-05 10:15:48 +0000 UTCCelestial Ascendancy
Chapter 27: This Wasn't in the Deal.
12 Grimmauld Place.
Elias Blake.
The silence stretched between us, awkward and heavy. Seeing Sirius at a loss for words in his house was almost funny.
Iris wasn’t much better. She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut with an audible click. After wanting this meeting for so long, she clearly had no idea how to start.
“How have you been, Sirius?” I asked slowly, breaking the tension.
Everyone’s attention turned to me.
Hermione, as usual, stayed quiet, taking in everything before speaking. That was just how she was—always observing, always thinking. Which meant it was up to me to get the conversation moving.
Sirius and Iris both looked relieved. He offered a tired smile, and Iris mouthed a quick thank you.
“It’s been… alright, I guess.” Sirius shrugged. “Not much company, though. Just my dear mother, the elf, and the hippogriff.”
“Your mother’s alive?” Iris shot up in her seat. “Why didn’t you say so? Shouldn’t we visit her first?”
Sirius barked out a rough laugh. “The bitch is dead, Pup.” He took a sip of water before continuing, his voice rasping with disuse.
“She left a portrait,” he scoffed. “And it’s just as unpleasant as the bint was.”
“Oh… I’m sorry, I guess.” Iris pouted, glancing at me for help.
Merlin she was too precious.
I leaned forward, my expression serious. “I’ll talk to the Headmaster. I think Remus should be here with you, Sirius. Having him around would make a difference.”
Sirius sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes suddenly glassy with unshed tears. “Thank you,” he said, voice thick. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”
“It’s the least we can do,” I said grimly. “And it pisses me off that no one thought of it before.”
Hermione nodded, scowling. “It’s true. A familiar presence would help.”
She turned to me then, her expression thoughtful. “Speaking of that, Eli… can you bring Ash out? I think she could help right now.”
My eyes lit up. That was a damn good idea.
“Nice one, Mione.” I grinned. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Sirius looked confused, but Iris smirked, already catching on.
Ignoring their reactions, I pulled out my miniature trunk, set it on the floor, and tapped it through the familiar sequence that restored it to its original size.
Opening the lid, I quickly made my way to my hollow.
Ash was already waiting for me, perched at the entrance.
“How are you, girl?” I murmured, rubbing her beak. She let out a soft sound—something like a purr. No idea how that worked, but it was adorable.
She’d grown a lot these past weeks. The Ashwinder eggs had done wonders for her. At this rate, she’d be as big as Fawkes in a couple of months—cuter, though.
And she’d already learned how to set things on fire, something we unfortunately discovered the hard way.
Waking up to a burning bird bed? Not fun.
Good thing she was immune to her own flames—and, as long as it wasn’t dark Magic, almost every other fire, too.
Iris and Mione had jumped at first, but seeing Ash bask in the warmth of her flames quickly put them at ease.
Ash chirped excitedly, flapping her wings as she soared toward my shoulder, pecking at my fingers affectionately. That was the other thing—she already knew how to fly.
“Want to go see your mums?” I sent a wave of amusement through our bond. “Iris’s godfather isn’t doing too well, and we think you could help.”
Ash responded with understanding and happiness, and I smiled.
“You do what you can, baby,” I cooed, scratching under her beak. “I know you’ll do your best.”
Walking back to the entrance, I wasn’t surprised to find the room thick with tension.
Iris glared daggers at Kreacher, fists clenched at her sides, while Hermione looked at the ground, clearly upset.
Sirius, on the other hand, was trembling with barely contained rage.
“What happened?” I asked, already having a rough idea.
“That bastard insulted us,” Iris spat, still fuming. “I swear, if I could use magic right now—” she cut off, her voice practically dripping with threat.
“Let it go, Iris,” Hermione said softly, though the hurt was evident in her eyes. “He doesn’t know any better.”
Iris scowled but, after a moment, let out a sharp breath, forcing herself to calm down.
“Sirius, can you ask him to leave?” I said dryly. “I think we have more important things to deal with.”
Sirius hesitated for a second before nodding. “Kreacher, leave. Don’t come back until I call for you. And you will not bother my guests again.”
Kreacher scowled but obeyed, slinking away. Not before glancing at me curiously with wide eyes.
“Good,” I sighed, rubbing my temple. “Now, I wanted you to meet your… godniece? I don’t know what else to call her.”
Iris groaned, burying her face in her hands. The tips of her ears turned red, and I had to bite back a smirk. She was so easy to fluster.
“My godniece?” Sirius echoed, confused.
Before I could explain, Ash took flight, landing on the table with a graceful thud.
She was a fluffy ball of red and gold, and the girls squealed in delight.
Ash trilled happily, and a warm contentment filled the room as her song spread through the air.
Sirius just stared, dumbfounded. “That’s a… phoenix.”
“A baby phoenix, yeah,” I smirked.
His eyes flickered between me and Ash as he hesitantly extended a hand. “Is she… yours?”
I caught the way his fingers trembled slightly. The way his eyes held something like hope.
Ash tilted her head at Sirius, studying him momentarily before hopping closer. She let out a soft, musical trill and nudged her head against his fingers.
Sirius sucked in a breath, his expression flickering between awe and disbelief. His fingers curled slightly, hesitant before he finally stroked her feathers.
“She’s real,” he murmured, almost to himself. “A real, living phoenix…”
“Of course she’s real,” I snorted. “What, did you think I was carrying a particularly fancy chicken?”
Iris snickered, finally recovering from her embarrassment. “To be fair, she was a fat ball of fluff when she arrived.”
Ash let out an indignant chirp, ruffling her feathers, and I grinned.
“She’s still young,” I continued, rubbing the top of her head. “But she’s getting stronger every day. I figured her presence might help. Phoenixes have that effect on people.”
Sirius exhaled shakily, his fingers still brushing against Ash’s feathers. He looked… lighter. Less weighed down by whatever storm had been raging in his head since we got here.
“She’s beautiful,” he said quietly. “And she’s really yours?”
I nodded. “Yeah. She chose me.”
Sirius let out a breathless laugh. “That is interesting. It's a shame we didn't get to know each other last year, but thank you for taking care of Iris all this time, both of you.”
Ash trilled again, then—without warning—flapped her wings and settled right onto his lap.
Sirius froze.
Iris and Hermione stared.
I just smirked. “Looks like she likes you.”
Sirius swallowed, blinking rapidly as he looked down at the little phoenix, now making herself comfortable on his legs. He reached out, stroking her feathers more confidently this time, and Ash let out a pleased hum.
“…Thank you,” he murmured, barely above a whisper. “For bringing her. For coming here.”
I met his gaze, seeing the raw emotion behind his eyes.
“It’s the least we could do,” I said simply. “You’re not alone in this mess, Sirius.”
Iris sighed, leaning back in her chair, her fingers idly tracing patterns on the table. “By the way, Sirius… you remember that tent you got me for my birthday?”
Sirius raised a brow, still gently petting Ash. “The fancy one with all the enchantments? Yeah, what about it?”
She winced. “It kinda… didn’t make it.”
His hand paused. “Didn’t make it?”
“It got destroyed during the World Cup attack,” she admitted, looking sheepish. “Death Eaters set the whole campsite on fire. I barely got out with my wand.”
Sirius scowled, his earlier amusement fading. “Bloody bastards,” he muttered. “You alright?”
“I’m fine,” she assured him, then shot me a look. “Elias made sure of that.”
I shrugged. “You’re the one who dragged me along.”
She grinned. “And you didn’t complain.”
Sirius snorted. “Course he didn’t. He’s got the patience of a saint dealing with you. If you are anything like your father, I honestly pity him.”
Iris gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. “I’ll have you know; I am an absolute delight to be around.”
Hermione coughed into her hand, suspiciously close to a laugh.
Iris pouted, then shook her head. “Anyway, school’s been… well, the usual. At least that was until the bloody tournament.”
Sirius hummed, letting her talk.
“The Triwizard Tournament is happening at school right now,” Iris continued slowly. “I don’t think you get the papers here, but a lot has happened. We found out Barty Crouch Jr. was impersonating Moody. The professors and we took him down.”
“Crouch Jr.? He died next to my cell,” Sirius said, rubbing his head in confusion.
“That’s what everyone thought,” Hermione shrugged. “Turns out his daddy dearest smuggled him out and left his dying mother in his place. She was under Polyjuice.”
“That bastard,” Sirius seethed. “He threw me into Azkaban without a trial and dared to talk about honor. He has none.”
“He doesn’t,” I nodded. “We’ll get you free, Sirius. I promise. Just wait a little longer.”
Sirius looked grateful, nodding for Iris to continue.
“So, we took him down,” she smirked as she relayed the fight. “We freed Moody in the end, but something weird happened.”
Sirius leaned forward in his seat, still absentmindedly rubbing Ash’s head. “Weird, how?”
“Dumbledore started asking questions. Crouch wasn’t answering, so…” Iris paused for dramatic effect. “Eli decided to taunt him. So did Hermione. And then he just started talking about Voldemort’s plan.”
“Did he say anything important?” Sirius asked seriously, a stark contrast to his usual laid-back self.
“That’s the problem,” Iris scowled. “He was burnt to Ash before he could say a single word—just screams of pain. Flitwick was barely licked by those flames, and phoenix tears barely healed him. No one knows what those flames were, but I never want to see them again. They scared me.”
“Phoenix tears barely worked?” Sirius asked, dumbfounded. “I’ve never heard of anything like that. That must’ve been really dark Magic.”
“It wasn’t Dark,” I said slowly, shaking my head. “I can say with absolute certainty—those flames weren’t Dark magic.”
“Then I have even less of an idea,” Sirius muttered. “What happened next?”
“Not much,” Iris sighed. “Until we found out what Voldemort’s plan was. We don’t know how or why, but he controlled Filch, of all people, to put Eli’s name in the Goblet of Fire. Now he has to participate in that death trap, and we can’t do anything about it.”
Sirius scowled, turning to me with clear worry in his eyes. “How have you been, Elias?”
“Eh, it’s been good. I didn’t expect to fight a dragon, but whatever,” I shrugged.
“A bloody dragon?!” Sirius yelped. “What in Merlin’s sweaty asscrack were they thinking?!”
I burst out laughing, shaking my head. That was not an image I wanted in my mind.
And as Iris got more comfortable, she did what she always did when she was truly at ease—she reached for my hand.
I felt her fingers slide between mine, warm and familiar. It was a small thing, something she’d always done, like an unspoken reassurance between us. I gave her hand a light squeeze, not thinking much of it.
But Sirius noticed.
His eyes flicked down to our joined hands, then back to Iris. A slow, wicked grin spread across his face.
“Well, well, well,” he drawled, leaning forward. “What is this?”
Iris blinked, confused. “What?”
Sirius nodded toward our hands, wiggling his brows. “This.”
Iris followed his gaze, and the moment she realized, her face went scarlet.
“Oh—shut up, Sirius.” She yanked her hand away as if it had burned her, crossing her arms tightly.
I laughed. “Smooth.”
Sirius cackled, clearly enjoying this way too much. “No, no, don’t stop on my account! You two are adorable.”
Iris groaned, burying her face in her hands. Hermione, the traitor, just hid her smile behind her book.
I smirked. “You should know, Sirius, she’s been holding my hand since first year. It’s nothing new.”
“Elias!” Iris hissed, mortified.
Sirius just grinned wider. “Oh, this is fun.”
Iris groaned louder, and I could already tell—Sirius would never let this go.
“By the way,” I continued softly, “Is there anything you need? I think a bit of a conversation between Dogfather and Goddaughter is needed. I have something to do and can take Mione with me. That way, you can have an hour or so between yourselves.”
-Iris Potter-
As soon as the door shut behind Elias and Hermione, Sirius leaned back in his chair, a smirk creeping onto his face. I recognized that look—pure Marauder mischief.
“So,” he drawled, crossing his arms behind his head, “you’re really okay with Elias running off with Hermione for some alone time?”
I blinked, then rolled my eyes. “Sirius, they went shopping.”
“Alone,” he pointed out, waggling his eyebrows.
I huffed. “If you’re trying to make me jealous, it won’t work.”
Sirius raised a brow, intrigued. “Oh? And why is that?”
I hesitated for a moment, then figured, why not? If there was anyone who’d understand, it was him. “Because I’m with both of them.”
Silence.
Then, Sirius made a noise like he’d choked on air. “You’re what?”
“I’m dating Elias and Hermione,” I repeated, watching his face carefully.
His mouth opened and closed a few times before he let out a disbelieving laugh. “Bloody hell, Iris! You’re living the dream! James would be so proud—Lily too, but James? He’d be obnoxiously proud.”
I felt my face heat up. “Oh, shut up.”
“No, no, I mean it! I’m so proud of you,” he teased, wiping a fake tear from his eye. “My goddaughter, breaking hearts and breaking society’s expectations—what a legend.”
I groaned, dropping my head onto the table. “I regret telling you this.”
Sirius chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah, I’m happy for you, really. As long as you three make each other happy, that’s all that matters.” His expression softened, losing some of that teasing edge. “You are happy, right?”
I lifted my head and smiled. “Yeah. I really am.”
“Good,” he said firmly. “That’s all I care about.”
There was a silence before I tilted my head, suddenly remembering something. “What did you want to talk to Elias about?”
Sirius hesitated, his fingers tapping idly against the table. “It’s… more of a theory, really.”
I raised an eyebrow. “About what?”
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think Elias might be Regulus’s son.”
I frowned, not in shock but in thought. “You think it was Regulus?”
Sirius looked at me, his eyebrows raising. “You’re… not surprised?”
I shook my head. “We already had our suspicions that Elias was a Black.”
Sirius blinked, then let out a bark of laughter. “Merlin, I thought I’d blow your mind with that.”
I smirked. “Sorry to disappoint.” Leaning back in my chair, I crossed my arms. “Narcissa was way too interested in him at the World Cup. She kept focusing on him, not me, even though I sat there. And when we met Tonks, she said he looked familiar. Not like a complete stranger, like someone she’d seen before, maybe in a family photo or something.”
Sirius hummed, running a hand through his hair. “That would make sense… Andromeda’s girl, right.”
“We didn’t know who he was related to,” I continued, nodding at him. “It could’ve been Cassiopeia, it could’ve been Regulus—hell, for all we knew, he could’ve been the secret love child of Arcturus or Bellatrix.”
Sirius made a disgusted face. “Please, don’t put that image in my head.”
I snickered. “But you really think it’s Regulus?”
Sirius sighed, nodding. “Yeah. The resemblance is there—he’s got Regulus’s eyes, his sharp features. Cassiopeia was way older than us, and I don’t remember her ever having kids, but Regulus? He disappeared when he was barely out of school. He could’ve had a kid and never told anyone.”
I frowned, considering it. “It… fits.”
“My brother had some bad friends,” Sirius said, his voice tinged with regret. “He was in Slytherin, mostly because he wanted to follow my mother’s teachings. He was always afraid of her. He used to hang around with the Death Eaters.” He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t know who Elias’s mother is, and I’d love to believe my brother would never do something as vile as rape, but… I just don’t know. He disappeared, and no one knows what really happened to him—how he died.”
My gaze dropped to the floor. I didn’t know how Eli would take this.
“But… are you sure he’s dead?” I asked softly.
Sirius nodded grimly. He held up his left hand, tapping his ring finger with his wand. “If he weren’t, I wouldn’t have this.”
I looked at the ring—the Black family crest gleamed under the dim light. The Lord ring.
“That’s a shame,” I murmured, frowning. Then I straightened. “We’ll talk to Elias when he gets back.”
Sirius nodded, but his expression remained troubled.
-Elias Blake-
I paced quietly through the rows of books in the library, occasionally glancing up to make sure Hermione was still absorbed in whatever text she was reading. She’d buried herself in a pile of research on something—not that I could blame her. I was the same way when I really got into a subject.
But I wasn’t in the mood to read right now. My thoughts kept circling back to Sirius and our earlier conversation. His theory about me being related to his brother, Regulus. It wasn’t that I was shocked, not really. After all the hints others dropped, I expected some connection to the Black family. And while being Regulus’s son was surprising, it wasn’t groundbreaking. Still, I wasn’t going to dwell on it. Not right now.
I’d promised Sirius I’d spend more time with him, but honestly, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed more time with Iris than with me. They had years of distance, and I wasn’t about to stand in the way. I was more than happy to give them the space they needed.
I shook my head, refocusing on the task at hand. The library was quiet, and I found myself running my fingers along the spines of the books, letting my mind wander. I wasn’t expecting anything to happen. I just needed something to occupy my thoughts.
But then, I felt it.
A pull.
It wasn’t dark like I’d expect from something sinister in the Black family library. In fact, it wasn’t dangerous at all. It was more like a gentle tug, something impossible to ignore. It felt like the whisper of something calling me, just beyond the edges of my awareness.
My perk, Finding Magic, had kicked in. It was the first time this had happened, but I just knew.
I stood still for a moment, feeling the pull intensify, and instinctively, I began to follow it. Slowly, I walked down the row of bookshelves, listening to the faint creak of the wood beneath my boots. The pull grew stronger, more pronounced. My curiosity piqued, and I followed the sensation until I found myself in front of a wall at the far end of the library.
I frowned. This wasn’t where I expected the pull to lead. There was nothing here—just an old wall, as solid and unremarkable as any other. But the tugging sensation persisted, more potent now that I was standing before it.
I pressed my hand against the stone, unsure what to do next. The feeling didn’t fade. It was almost like something was hidden behind the wall, waiting to be found. My brow furrowed. I knew it wasn’t a trick of the mind. This was something real. Something magical.
“Elias?”
Hermione’s voice broke through my focus, and I pulled my hand away from the wall, startled.
“What are you doing?” she asked, looking up from her book.
I blinked, startled by her interruption. “I think there’s something behind this wall. I don’t know what it is, but my perk, Finding Magic, is pulling me here. It’s like there’s something useful hidden. I can feel it.”
Hermione raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but skeptical. “Something useful? How do you mean?”
“I have no idea,” I shrugged wryly. I only know there is something behind this wall.”
Hermione stepped closer, looking at the wall more carefully now. “Should we try looking around it? Maybe there’s some kind of mechanism.”
I nodded. We began to search together, moving along the stone and running our hands along its surface. My fingers brushed over every inch, but there was nothing. There were no cracks, hidden latches, or indentations—just cold, unyielding stone.
After a few minutes, I let out a frustrated breath. “I don’t get it. I’ve checked everything I can think of. There’s no way in.”
Hermione sighed beside me. “It could be an illusion or something beyond our current understanding. Maybe—”
I didn’t have time to hear her finish her thought. As I stood to step back from the wall, my finger brushed against something sharp, an unnoticed edge in the stonework. I flinched, and I pricked my finger before I could stop myself. The sharp sting of the cut made me hiss under my breath, and blood welled up quickly from the tiny wound.
“Shit,” I muttered, wiping my finger on my sleeve; instinctively, I let healing energy flow to the tip of my finger, watching the wound close as if it had never occurred.
Then something unexpected happened.
The wall shuddered, a low hum filling the air as my blood touched the stone. I froze, staring in disbelief as the wall lowered, sinking into the ground as if it had been nothing more than a veil. It was as though the stone was reacting to my blood, a silent response to whatever Magic had been hidden behind it.
Hermione gasped beside me, her eyes wide. “Did… did that just… move?”
I nodded, my pulse quickening. “I think it did.”
“I’ll go alone,” I said firmly.
Hermione shook her head, but I grabbed her hand. “Mione, we’re in the Black family library. Think about it. This place is probably riddled with curses meant for anyone not of my blood.”
She looked frustrated and afraid, but she knew I was right. She sighed, her expression softening.
“Go and call Padfoot and Iris,” I said gently. “Make them wait for me. Don’t mention the Grimoire to Sirius. It’s our secret, okay? You know how dangerous this knowledge can be in the wrong hands, and I don’t trust Sirius is in the right headspace right now.”
Hermione nodded, her face set with determination. Without another word, she kissed me deeply. Her tongue tangled with mine, and I was surprised by the intensity of the kiss.
It was over too quickly, leaving me breathless.
“Be careful, Eli,” she whispered, her voice barely heard, and I only did thanks to my enhanced senses. “Sirius will come after you if you don’t return in twenty minutes. I’ll make sure of that.”
“Good,” I nodded. “Love you.”
She flashed me a reassuring smile before walking toward the library’s entrance.
I stood there for a moment, feeling nervousness set in my stomach. The atmosphere in the hall was almost suffocating, drenched in the dark, gothic aura the Blacks had perfected. I couldn’t help but appreciate the theatrics. As I walked deeper into the corridor, more torches flickered to life, casting long shadows along the stone walls.
I walked briskly, my senses sharp as I tried to notice anything dangerous, but no attack came as I expected. The only things that accompanied me were the shadows and the flickering torches.
After what felt like five minutes, I reached something resembling an altar. I stopped in front of it, scanning the ancient carved stone. There were markings I didn’t understand, along with runes—but not the kind taught at Hogwarts. No, I was entirely out of my depth here.
I reached out, my fingers brushing the stone when a sudden cough shattered the silence.
I froze, my heart racing. No one should be here. No one.
I spun around, alarm surging through me, and instinctively summoned a wall of ice between myself and the source of the cough as I backed away to create distance. My veins felt like they were filled with frost, my breath coming in short, sharp bursts.
A low grumble reached my ears, but nothing more. Slowly, I began to calm down. I gathered my flames in one hand while willing the ice to melt. It was a slow process, just as I intended.
It was a portrait.
I blinked at the unamused eyes of the figure staring back at me. It was an old man—younger than Dumbledore but still ancient. He looked stern, though his gaze flicked curiously to my hands before lifting toward my wand holster.
“Who… who are you?” I asked slowly, willing the flames in my palm to die out. They might look unassuming, but after my disastrous “training,” they were hot enough to melt gold if I pushed them.
He grumbled, saying nothing at first. When I didn’t continue, he finally spoke.
“I didn’t expect anyone to walk in here,” he said, his voice rough and sharp.
“I found this room by accident,” I admitted. “Who are you?”
“I should be asking you that,” he scoffed. “But I am Arcturus Black. And you? What brings you to this part of the Black estate?”
“My name is Elias Blake,” I said carefully.
“Preposterous,” Arcturus harrumphed. “A Muggle in the most secret place of the Black family home?”
“Sirius believes I’m Regulus’s son,” I admitted. “But we have no way to confirm if he’s right.”
Arcturus scoffed again, the sound grating. “If you weren’t Regulus’s son, boy, you’d have been dead long before you made it this far.”
I blinked, processing his words. “It’s as I expected, then. Good thing I asked my girlfriend to wait outside while I investigated.”
Arcturus’s eyes narrowed. “You have no idea what this place is, do you? The Black family isn’t kind to those who don’t belong. The fact that you’ve made it this far means you share my blood.”
“I absolutely have no idea,” I replied without shame. “I just felt something calling to me in here.”
“There’s nothing of importance here, boy,” he scowled. “Just some useless junk no one knows how to use.”
“Then why are you here?” I asked. “Why leave your portrait in a place no one would see?”
“I was inactive,” Arcturus grunted. “I believed no one from my family was alive when I made this portrait. Only Sirius and Bella remained, and both were disgraces to my family name.”
“Sirius isn’t that bad,” I defended.
“He’s a traitor,” Arcturus snarled. “How he could betray Charlus’s boy, I don’t know. I had such high expectations for him.”
“So you don’t know,” I murmured, low enough for him not to hear, “Sirius is innocent. He was set up.”
Arcturus scowled. “Who dared?” His voice was sharp, demanding. “Explain properly, boy.”
Sighing, I took a breath and explained Sirius’s situation to the irate old man, careful to leave out nothing important.
“Fucking stupid,” Arcturus muttered, clearly not impressed. “It’s all that bint’s fault.”
I smirked. “He’s dumb, but he’s a good person. He’s trying his best. Right now, he’s spending some time with her goddaughter. I’ll make sure he’s free. I give you my word.”
Arcturus looked at me with an almost proud expression, and I felt a strange discomfort rise in my chest. It was the first time an older figure looked at me like that.
“I want to finish before Sirius comes searching for me,” I said slowly, returning to the portrait. “Also, I’ll take you out. Maybe you can get some sense into your grandson. He needs all the help he can get. Don’t be too hard on him, please.”
“I’ll do what I want, boy,” he grumbled, but his voice had a hint of gratitude as he nodded. “And you’re wasting your time here. Those parchments are useless. They’ve lost their instructions over the years.”
“How do you know?” I asked, already approaching the table with a thumping heart.
Arcturus’s voice softened. “I have diaries written by my father and my great-grandfather. They ranted about not knowing what this parchment does, only that it was our family's treasure, kept for a time of need.”
I turned back to see him, his gaze distant, as if lost in the memory. “And even his grandfather had no idea what they were.”
I blinked in surprise. That was a lot of time—considering how long-lived wizards were.
Walking back to the altar, I took a deep breath and grabbed the parchment in the middle.
I stared at the parchment in my hands, my heart hammering in my chest. I didn’t recognize the symbols, but that pull—that damn pull—was stronger than ever. The parchment was ancient, the edges worn and faded, but it was still unmistakably magical. My perk kicked in, as it was supposed to do when I held a magical object, and suddenly, the knowledge flowed into my mind.
A summoning ritual. A custom-made one, at that, from the Agares family.
I froze. My mind blanked, and I felt my stomach drop.
Summoning? Agares? My breath hitched in my throat as the realization hit me like a ton of bricks.
This wasn’t just some random bit of dark Magic—it was a fucking devil summoning ritual.
I stumbled back, the parchment crinkling as I tried to steady myself. My mind raced, and everything around me seemed to spin. I leaned against the table for support, feeling my pulse in my neck.
The Agares family. Devils.
The connection clicked, but my mind couldn't process it all fast enough.
I knew just enough to know what I was dealing with, thanks to a combination of the wiki I had barely skimmed and some of the basics from... well, what I had seen in the first season of the anime or a couple of fanfictions, but most of those barely made it past Kokabiel. I remember fellow readers complaining about how different the anime was from the light novel or the manga. I… this was different from the Harry Potter books.
This... this was not a joke.
A fucking summoning ritual to call devils, and I was holding the damn thing in my hands.
The anime went from a few kids slinging spells to damn world-ending threats where even Gods were not assured of their survival.
I never thought I’d end up in the damn Titty Anime World. This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening.
Comments
Aleksey A E
Hmm, so close to that?
James Thomas
Ahh, ok. But yeah, he's already been made an Outland Cryomancer, so future Elias is up in the air, only RNGesus knows what he may become. Yeah, unless they get involved with the Khaos Brigade (and wow, does writing that out feel so chuuni) or derp into the gap, I can't see them earning the attention of Red or Ophis. Azazel, on the other hand, might just recognize something wrong if the right information manages to cross his desk given how obsessed he's been with gear research, I can't imagine he doesn'thave a standing order for all agents to report back sacred gear encounters for even data points at the least. But how much he could figure out is in the air since his artificial gears are still knock offs from what I recall. And I'm guessing this Wizarding World Geas/Contract/Spell will muffle almost all news for some time yet. I can't really see anyone else having any reason to see The Grimoire as anything but an unknown or sub-species sacred gear. I don't think anything he's rolled yet would quite qualify for a Longinus classification.
InfinityReads99
They did a favor to the agares, that’s why they gave a custom made summoning circle. It will be explained better in some future chapters!
InfinityReads99
Nice theory, but no. Elias is a human. Or at least, he was born a human. As for the parchment (think of it as the pamphlet they give in the anime but hundreds of years before) was custom made because the black family earned a favor from the Agares. I’ll explain it when Elias finally makes contact. As for the grimoire, I’m still unsure. The knowledgeable beings will feel there is something special about him, and ophis/GR won’t see him for a while, so I’ll think something in the meantime.
Aleksey A E
Hmm, so the Blacks tried to get involved with the devils? Maybe one of their distant ancestors tried to become a contract mage? Or was there?
James Thomas
Agares, huh? I've been wondering if Blake was a Half-Devil (wizard magic in HP does seem flexible enough to be like Devil magic), that or Fallen, Magician or the Church/Heaven are the most likely groups to be active in Britain. I'm not counting Fae, as Luna would be a better fit, there. The church would likely have Blake raised in a different orphanage, with more Christian elements. So, either the Devil contract is a red herring and he's descended from a magician or Fallen, or Regulus managed to contact one, an Agares and had a child with one. A Devil family with a time magic affinity which Elias hasn't had a chance to see if he has, and a trait for "recovering fugitives," which seems applicable to several people in HP. And people are likely to mistake the Grimoire for a sacred gear, though I suspect Ophis and those of her level might recognize the pan-dimensional nature of the Celestial system.
