The Spellfull Sixties

Chapter Two: Alphards locket

...Exactly a year ago today, Mr Morfin Gaunt, accused of the murder of the entire Gaunt family, died in his cell at midday. It is said that his last words were: 'My innocence is false...perhaps'. He was later buried outside of of the walls of Azkaban, alongside other fellow convicts. Though the circumstances of his sudden death seemed strange. However, Aurors have finally stated that they will no longer be inquiring into the Gaunt family or any of it's members, including Mr Morfin Gaunt...

... Does this mark a final end to the tale of the Gaunt family?...

In other news, propositions for equal rights for Squibs have been made. This comes after previous arguments for rights between Muggleborns and the rest of wizarding folk, which led to the appointment of our very own Minister of Magic, Minister Nobby Leach, last November. Some members of the British Ministry have compared these propositions to ones made prior to the creation of the 'Werewolf Restriction Act', by Mr Lyall Lupin. Yet some wonder, is there trouble coming?- or will this all blow over?...

The Rosier-Black home was steeped in sunlight that glazed over the pale windows, turning them near gold. It wasn't a grand pure-blood home like some seen in the country. But it was not devoid of grandness. It was a Kensington Townhouse frequented by Walburga and Orion Black, consisting of white stone, pillars and an affluent amount of windows that didn't really look in on what occured within the home. They were warped to appear muggle-like, dull and plain. Though through the raven front door of number 15, not far from Cromwell road, things were not as they seemed. 

The home was like a palace, with extension charms gracing every hall and room. The corridor on the first floor opened up to a grand purple stairwell, which was perched above a small Japanese garden, to which droplets of water floated down from the sky above, fluttering like petals. Two doors sat before the stairs leading to the first floor Parlour and Cygnus Blacks study, which was always locked. Beyond the stairs at the furthest end of the hallway, past haunting, nosey paintings of odd familial relations was the dining room, resting just by some double doors that went down to the 'Servants quarters'. Though the 'Servants' in question were two miserable little house-elves, who had been gifted to the family by Walburga Black at the wedding of Druella Rosier and her brother. They were called Tardus and Turpis.

Up the steps the place grew airer and lighter, not feeling much like a home, but a museum. The wall was ingrained with portraits sunken into the stone that told of old family affairs, and candles bobbed in any place necessary. Though there was so much light that sunk in from the roof a few floors above that they often were not required. On the second floor was the library, and the upstairs parlour, as well as the 'piano' room. There was also the 'Ballroom', which always appeared as far too vast for a home of that size. Though it were 'necessary' in the matriarch of the home's eyes. 

Above this resided the chamber of the 'Happy' Druella and Cygnus, and across from that the nursery, in which Narcissa and Andromeda still resided, joined by two...no, three guest bedrooms. And above this were three rooms- two of which remained empty. Yet one belonged to Bellatrix Black, painted in according dark colours. She had moved into such a room earlier that summer when her father decreed that she had grown far too old to be sharing with her little sisters any longer. Andromeda was sure that she was to be next seeing as she would too be starting her journey as a Hogwarts student in the coming days. 

Our story however begins on the second floor of the illustrious home, within the cramped library. It was the lesser used room, and so had no purpose in being enlarged at any rate. And for quite the while it had been constantly inhabited by a guest, who by Druella's view, had overstayed his welcome a year prior when he had arrived. This was Alphard Black- a man so unlike his siblings. He sat reclined in a leather chair by the window as though a broom that had been roughly settled down for a moment before having to get back to tiresome work. The sunlight blessed his bluish eyes, which were aged and bored beneath a few strands of hair that had broken free from his uniform slick back pontytail. His mouth twitched a little at the contents of his book, which rested below his chin where his waistcoat had ruffled up messily. He had been so captivated by it, having put down that days newest edition of the Daily Prophet, eager to read more .