Altaira did not tell her son what she read on the Lineage Paper in Razgul's office. He did not ask for it either. It was partly because he was not interested, and also because he knew that his mother did not want to talk about it.
The evening they returned from Gringotts and the Ministry, Walburga Melania Black's funeral ceremony took place in the Black Crypts.
Narcissa attended with her husband, daughter, and son.
Altair had met his cousins only once before. It was four years ago at his father's funeral.
They were too little back then to have any real conversation, but this time, he did get to know Aurelia, who was three and a half months older than him, and Draco, who was a year and four months younger.
Both had pale blonde hair, just like their parents, and greyish eyes, just like their mother and grandfather, Cygnus Black.
Lucius Malfoy had ice-blue eyes, but neither of his children had inherited them. Still, Aurelia and Draco appeared just as much Malfoy as they did Black and Rosier. Mostly Black, since Lucius' mother and grandmothers on both sides were Blacks. Even Druella Rosier, who was Narcissa's mother, was half Black.
Almost all the Pure-blood families in Britain were connected to one another in some way, but both the Malfoys and Rosiers could be considered true kin to the House of Black. It was the same for the House of Morvaine, which had several generations of Black blood in their main line.
Aurelia and Draco were quite similar to one another even in personality, especially in how proud they were.
The girl even tried to act high and mighty in front of him, but then Altair silenced her by telling her that the Malfoys were once a vassal house of the Morvaine family.
When she confirmed the information from her father, she was extremely embarrassed, but perhaps it was what Lucius had said to her, she became markedly cautious of her behaviour in front of Altair from that point onwards.
Altair was happy. Truly happy.
Except for Fleur and Gabrielle, and a certain Flamel, he had scarcely spent time with other children, and he was delighted to form a close bond with both his cousins.
They saw each other again the following week when they came to play, and even stayed a few nights at Grimmauld Hall.
Draco soon started admiring him as his older brother after he watched him cross wands with his mother one evening.
Aurelia too was astonished, and before Altair could stop her or warn her, she implored his mother to train her as well.
Altaira refused, but she did ask Narcissa and Cygnus to instruct both Aurelia and Draco, which his aunt and granduncle agreed to when the little one pleaded to them.
It was just before Christmas that his mother explained why Aurelia was free to live at Grimmauld Hall whenever she wished, and why the Malfoys were so close to them now.
Lucius had offered his daughter's hand in marriage, and Altaira had accepted it on his behalf.
She was his fiancée now, but given his age, he did not think much about it, especially after Altaira informed him that he could still have Fleur and Gabrielle, as they were contractually bound to him.
He wanted to see the sisters, but when his mother told him she was taking him to Germany to get his wand, he was elated.
The entire Wizarding World was busy celebrating Christmas, but Altaira and he were making their way through the wintry forest where the land was covered in snow.
They traversed the snowy woodland for a long time, and Altair even wondered if his mother knew the way.
"Can we not Apparate to the shop?"
"It's not a shop," she answered lightly. "It's a workshop."
"Is there a difference?"
"Yes."
"What?" he asked inquisitively, but then turned to his left and froze in place.
When Altaira looked in the same direction, she too stopped in her tracks and her jaw fell open in astonishment.
She did not stop her son when he pulled his hand free from hers and clumsily rushed towards the pair of snow-white unicorns, who were eating some flowers that had bloomed at the base of the ancient trees.
The pair of magical creatures glanced his way, and Altaira just watched as her son advanced, began happily chatting with the two unicorns, and even touched their manes and their horns.
They seemed to be particularly fond of him, so much so that her heart nearly stopped when one of them knelt and Altair climbed onto its back.
She did not want to shout, as that would undoubtedly scare the creatures away, but to her horror, the unicorns ran away with her son.
Altaira remained in her place for a few moments, but then panic gripped her heart and she gave chase.
She frantically searched all around the woods, and an hour later, when she could not find her son, tears began to course down her cheeks.
"Mother." She had just taken out her wand when she heard Altair's voice from behind her, and when she turned around, she found him beaming with delight.
His grin, however, faded when he saw her tears, and he worriedly came close to her.
"Are you alright?" he gently asked, and she quickly wiped away her tears.
"Yes. I was just missing you," she gave a light laugh, and then knelt on the snow to pull him into a tight hug.
"They showed me around the forest, Mother. It's beautiful!"
"It is, yes."
"They also showed me the cottage. They told me it was the place we were searching for."
"They did?" she asked, surprised.
"Yes!" he grinned, then grabbed her hand, leading her to their destination.
Altaira noticed that they were heading to a place where they had already been, but to her astonishment, she saw the hidden workshop.
It was dark, not too shabby, and there was smoke coming out of the stone chimney.
When they stepped on the porch, Altair sprang forward and rang the bell with enthusiasm, and only a moment later, they heard a gruff voice greet them from inside.
"Come in."
The two of them politely stepped inside, and the young Morvaine was amazed by how large the chamber revealed itself to be.
It stretched dozens of metres wide, and over twenty metres high. There were tall shelves all around with all sorts of strange weapons, as well as wand boxes, books, and potions.
Finally, he saw the tall and muscular man, wearing an eye-patch over his right eye, sitting at the counter on the far end, perusing a tome through his monocle.
He did not look up to glance at them until they arrived at the counter, and the words that escaped his mouth perplexed Altair.
"Altair Cillius le Noir Morvaine Slytherin Black. You are quite an interesting child."
"Slytherin?" he inclined his head in confusion.
"Yes, Little Lord Slytherin. Though, I must say, you are better looking than any Slytherin male I have ever met. They are always far too gruff, just like me. Must be the Black and Morvaine genes that saved you." The man chuckled and glanced at Altaira, and gave a nod of approval.
"You have finally come."
"Yes..."
Altair glanced at his mother, curiosity shining in his eyes, not understanding what they were talking about.
"What is your name, my lord?" he innocently asked the man, who smiled at his question.
"Why do you call me a lord?"
"I don't know. It simply felt inappropriate to call you anything else," he grinned, and the man chuckled.
"Vulcan. You will just call me Vulcan."
"Vulcan..." The moment Altair spoke the name, he sensed the magic in the air shimmer into motion, and his mouth fell open in shock as he finally saw the magic that surrounded the old man.
It was so overwhelming, and yet so beautiful... it was almost like the old man was magic itself.
"I have not crafted a wand for someone in a long while. I hope you will surprise me, little Morvaine. Your ancestor did, and she was one of the most brilliant and brightest witches I have met in my life."
"Who?" he tilted his head inquisitively.
"Morgana Viviane le Fey Morvaine. The main line of your family descended from her and her husband and younger brother, Agravain Cillius Morvaine."
"Ohh... he was Cillius too?"
"Yes, gifted, bright, almost as much as his sister, but he died young, never to live up to his potential or make a name for himself. All he left behind was a child in Morgana's womb," he said quietly. "Their son, whom she named Augustus, married Elmadora Slytherin, Salazar Slytherin's older sister. You have her powers too."
"I do?" he tilted his head again.
"Yes."
Altaira wanted to stop the man from telling her son these things, but she dared not say a word.
Thankfully, Vulcan stood up and ceased speaking, and Altair's mouth fell open when he saw the man loom over them.
He was easily over eight feet tall. Easily.
"Come."
Vulcan led them to one of the shelves, which parted, revealing a dark passage and staircase that led them downstairs.
When they finally saw light, it was the light of a very messy and disorganised artisan's workshop, a stark contrast to what they had seen upstairs.
The old man, despite his age, was very deliberate and steady with his steps, and he simply raised his hand and materials began floating over to him.
"A wand for a wizard is a tool to focus their magic, amplify it in times of need, and help them use magic more efficiently. Therefore, it is extremely important to have the right wand. Luckily, wands choose you, so you don't have to search too hard. However, even if a wand chooses you, it does not mean it is the perfect wand for you. The best of the wands are those crafted for you from scratch. Still, if you are fortunate, you might find a perfect match. The chances are slim, very slim..." he smiled. "Only a few people have ever existed in the world who can identify a perfect wand for a person..."
Altair listened intently to Vulcan's words and then looked at the pieces of wood hovering around him.
"Choose."
He heard the old man say, and his eyes scanned all of them before settling on two.
One was grey, almost like his eyes, and the other was reddish-brown with hints of dark and pale grainings.
He remained fixated on the two for some time, growing a little agitated, and then reached forward and grabbed both, much to Vulcan's amusement.
"Only one."
"Why..." he pouted, but then reluctantly placed the colourful wood back.
"You can never mix two woods or two cores," Vulcan informed him and gave his head a gentle pat, which made him beam.
Next, a lot of crystals floated around him, and he had to make a choice again. This time, he made his pick very quickly, but kept gazing at one more crystal, desiring it as well.
Vulcan gently accepted the crystal he was holding and shattered it, revealing a vividly-hued feather nestled within.
"The Star Plume of Simurgh, and Elder," he smiled. "Morgana chose the same core too, but the wood was Yew, the one you let go earlier."
"I didn't want to let go. You forced me," he complained, and Vulcan only laughed.
"I need your blood now."
Altair did not think much of it and accepted the ceremonial knife from his hand. He carefully sliced his left palm, and blood floated out and formed a small orb, almost the size of a lychee, which was his favourite fruit.
"What is in that crystal?" he could not help but ask, and Vulcan seemed to know which crystal he was referring to.
"A tainted core."
"What is a tainted core?"
"It's when a core is tainted with the essence of another magical creature, usually blood. It does make the wand more powerful, should you manage to craft the wand, but it's not always better than the other cores."
"Would it be a better core than the one I chose?" he asked, and Vulcan shook his head.
"There is no wand core comparable to the Star Plume of a Simurgh."
The words brought a bright grin to his face, and Vulcan chuckled at his delight.
"I once helped a very gifted wizard create a wand with a tainted core..." he whispered as he got busy.
"Oh? What was it?" Altair asked inquisitively.
"Thestral hair soaked in Unicorn blood. He was a great wizard, very powerful, but he was hungry for more than he was destined for..." he whispered the last words. "He chose Elder wood, even when it was not suited for him, and he could not bind it to his blood. Do you know what happens when Elder is not bound by blood?"
"No."
"It creates a fickle wand. Sentient and fickle. He was killed for that wand, and every time the new master lost against someone, the wand changed its allegiance. Fickle, truly fickle, but powerful beyond what the Magicals can comprehend."
"Where is it now?" Altair asked with interest, and Vulcan chuckled.
"It's with its new master now. Has been with him for over four decades. Quite an interesting wizard, that one."
"What is his name?" Altair asked as he watched his hand quickly heal, but Vulcan did not answer him this time.
He was busy now, and focused on the task.
"Come, Altair. Let's not disturb Lord Vulcan," his mother said, grabbing his hand and taking him out of the secret workshop, back to the showroom.
The two of them curiously looked around the place in intrigue for hours, scanning every shelf, but not touching anything.
They had not even realised how much time had passed before the entrance to the workshop parted again and Vulcan walked out.
He was not holding a wand in his hand but a locket, and both of them were perplexed when he put it around Altair's neck.
"Your wand."
Altair furrowed his brows when he sensed the magic of the locket, and he instinctively grabbed it and then gently pulled his hand down as if he were drawing a sword from a scabbard.
To Altaira's surprise, the wand manifested in his hand, and slowly emerged from the locket.
When it was completely out, it glowed in delight and they heard a resounding hum in their ears.
The wood was darker now, slightly darker, and had a smooth but natural finish with elegant and wild vines woven around its length from tip to pommel. Its design gave it both balance and weight, and with a length of sixteen inches, the wand seemed ancient and haunting. Beautiful and powerful. Very powerful.
"Try to keep it out of the eyes of people as much as possible," Vulcan advised, and Altair subconsciously nodded as he beamed.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome." The old man gently patted his head. "When you are ready to go to Hogwarts, head to Ollivander's in Diagon Alley. He will have an appropriate wand for you to use at school. Keep this one out of the eyes and the check of the Ministry."
"Okay!" Altair happily nodded his head and then held his mother's hand as they both bowed to the old man.
She did not pay him, which perplexed him a little, but when they stepped out of the cottage, the landscape around them seemed to twist and warp, and there was no trace of it left.
It vanished into thin air, and Altair was perplexed, very perplexed.
"Who is he, Mother?"
"A deity."
"Ohh..."