I do not own Harry Potter, and I do not make any money from this story. Everything belongs to J. K. Rowling.

This story will be the Harry Potter series told from the perspective of the House of Black (and Malfoy). However, it is also a story of personal growth and development. The over-riding arc of the story will be challenging of the members' prejudices and faults. The story is, nevertheless, rated M. It is not aimed at younger readers, and please do respect this.

Additionally, this is the follow-on from my previous story 'As Black As Night'. I recommend that you read that story first, in order to better follow this one.

Either way, I hope you enjoy the story...

Prologue

Sirius

Of course they were waiting for him.

He should have known.

They would take him, and Kiss him, and this would be the closest to freedom her ever got. He never got to be a father to Harry, or Annie. This was the only way they would ever know him. This was the only way they ever remembered him. A haggard man. A broken man. A man in chains, led away to his fate.

He closed his eyes.

At least he could remember them.

...

Narcissa

The dark figures were illuminated against the moonlight and the bright sparks of wand fire. Together, they cast distorted shadows, flashes of movement, which she watched from the safety of the tower. She could hear the cries and the screams, and while she wished to turn her head away, to close her eyes, and force herself back into peace and ignorance, she could not.

She heard the roar of the beast.

The scream of the child.

The sobs of those in her tower with her.

But she had not the eyes for them.

She had only eyes for him.

And she prayed for the Gods to bring him back at the end of the night. She did not care what happened. She did not care what he did. She only wanted him.

...

Cassiopeia

She watched as the rat-like filth struck her Heir, watched as she was flung back, watched as she hit the ground with a thud. She looked like a rag doll the poor children used to play with.

She watched as she opened her eyes.

Watched as she blinked.

Watched as the realisation struck her.

And watched, powerless, as the beast advanced.

Watched, as her limbs wouldn't move, her wand wouldn't raise, her mouth wouldn't open, her heart wouldn't beat.

Watched as her child opened her mouth to scream.

Watched, and watched and watched.

And saw more than she saw.

Dorea.

Polaris.

Again.

Again she failed.

Again she looked on at her failure.

...

Lucius

He stood at the front rank of the defence, next to the Minister. His wand was raised. The perfect duelling position. The perfect face of a caring, fearful uncle. An uncle here to protect his beloved niece from the raving Black.

Had he not been a better actor, he would have sneered.

But this was what he did.

He was in an actor in a play, a mockery of a play, a mockery of a play which was his life.

Although, at the very least, it seemed as though things were about to get interesting.

Pettigrew was escaping.

As long as the rat did not go back to their former Lord...

...

Tonks

"RELEGANT LUPUS!"

She heart lurched as she struck Remus, knowing the pain she caused him.

But the pain would be worse if he bit the child.

She shuddered.

She shuddered again as he howled, and limped, and almost went down. Then he turned and fled into the depths of the forest. As he ran, his legs buckled, and he whimpered like an injured dog.

And then she turned.

And saw Pettigrew flee as well.

Not if she could help it.

...

Caroline

"NO!"

She watched it happen in slow motion.

The hand struck the jaw.

The head twisted to the side – too far.

The small body rose up.

And fell.

And hit the ground.

And didn't move.

And already she was running, through the crowd, past the Aurors, through the spells she didn't know, and the whole world seemed to stop as well.

She clutched the body.

Stroked the head.

And felt the blood.

No.

...

That summer night, everything changed for the House of Black. The assumptions upon which it had stood, and built its power, changed irrevocably. The stars which had guided them for so long seemed to dim, and seemed to turn their backs.

The House of Black was alone.

And the ties of family, which had been so strong for a thousand years, were crumbling to dust. The ties of blood can only hold when the heart beats to make them so, to make them strong. A heart can beat with hate, as much as anything else.

Because family may always come first, but one can choose one's family.

And families are built on love, as well as blood.

And one can choose who to love.

So, this is the story of the House of Black.

This is a story of lies.

...