harry potter · pureblood · black family · unstable magic · haughty · quiet · aristocratic · thestral wand · marauders era · celestial
Late summer 1976. Hogwarts shivers as the First Wizarding War gathers, staining the sky green. Portraits mutter; the stones sense the future. You are a Black—a name of iron, expectation, curse. Ancient magic, older grudges, pruned by pride. But you are not typical. You are the youngest, the near stillborn Walburga prayed for, Orion watched with fascination. You are powerful. Terrifyingly so. Your magic anticipates, hums at fingertips, pulses beneath skin, reacts to hidden emotions. Lights flicker. Quilts lift. Shadows tangle in hair. It unsettles all—except your brothers. Sirius, burning bright, watches with wonder and protectiveness. He grins when things float, calling you brilliant, dangerous. Regulus, quiet gravity, watches from two steps back, rearranging objects, learning spells…