MTLNOVEL Chapter 159: The Agreement
The Next Morning
Cael awoke with a dull ache behind his eyes, the remnants of last night's revelations swirling in his mind like smoke. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the worn floorboards of his small room in the Leaky Cauldron, his thoughts drifting back to the Black Manor—and more specifically, his conversation with Walburga Black's portrait.
The Black family… so desperate for an heir they'd come crawling to me, he thought bitterly.
The system's voice echoed in his mind, cool and calculating.
"Host, why not use the Black family for information? Their desperation makes them predictable. Sirius Black will be out of Azkaban in two years, and when he returns, your involvement becomes irrelevant."
Cael's lips curled into a faint smirk. A loophole, he mused. Agree to their terms… temporarily.
Decision made, he rose to his feet, washed up, and dressed in simple black robes. With a sharp breath, he called out into the stillness of the room:
"Kreacher!"
A loud CRACK split the air as the ancient house-elf appeared, hunched and glaring, though his expression shifted the moment he saw Cael.
"At your service, young master," Kreacher rasped with a slight bow.
"Take me to Walburga Black," Cael ordered. "I have… terms to discuss."
"As you wish, young master."
The elf grabbed Cael's wrist, and with another CRACK, the world twisted, then snapped back into place.
The dark, oppressive grandeur of 12 Grimmauld Place greeted him, dust lingering in the air, ancient magic humming faintly through the walls. Kreacher led him down the familiar hall, stopping before the large, heavily curtained portrait of Walburga Black.
The curtains flew open the moment he approached, revealing Walburga's painted form, regal, severe, and smirking.
"I knew you'd come crawling back," she sneered triumphantly. "No name, no fortune, no allies. You've nowhere else to turn, child."
Cael merely stared, calm and composed. Then, without waiting for her theatrics to continue, he spoke.
"I'll accept your terms," he said coolly. "But under one condition."
Walburga's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Speak."
"If a member of the Black family—any living descendant—steps foot inside this house, the contract between us becomes void immediately. Whoever they are, they'll be your heir, not me."
The portrait regarded him for a long, tense moment, eyes sharp and calculating. Then, to Cael's surprise, a thin, cruel smile stretched across her painted lips.
"Clever boy," she purred. "Very well. I accept."
She turned sharply toward Kreacher. "Bring the contract."
The elf scurried off and returned moments later with an ancient scroll and quill. Walburga dictated the terms as Kreacher wrote, her voice laced with formality and pride:
"You, Cael Vale, bearing Black family blood through your mother, are bound to ensure that your firstborn son, conceived with a pure-blood witch, is sent to this house. He will inherit the name Black and restore the legacy of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black."
Cael nodded once. "And in return, you will give me all information regarding my mother, my father, and any secrets you possess."
"Agreed." Her eyes gleamed with something sinister, but he didn't falter.
With a steady hand, Cael signed the parchment, pressing his thumb to it as his blood sealed the contract. A faint golden glow rippled across the page before fading.
A strange connection pulsed through him—the magic of an ancient family vow binding itself to his core. Failure to uphold the contract meant only one thing: magical ruin.
Walburga's laughter filled the room, rich with twisted satisfaction. "It's done. You're bound now, boy. The Black blood in your veins won't let you run from your duty."
But Cael's smirk returned. You underestimate me, old hag. He thought. The moment Sirius Black sets foot in this house, everything falls apart. By then, I'll already have what I need.
"Now," he demanded, folding his arms, "tell me about my mother. Who was she? Where did she work? And my father—what do you know?"
Walburga's expression shifted, pride mixed with disdain. "Her name was Elara Black," she declared. "A blood traitor by choice, but still of our line. She was brilliant… wasted her talents among fools at the Ministry. An Unspeakable, stationed in the Department of Mysteries."
Cael's breath caught, but he stayed silent, urging her to continue.
"As for your father…" Her painted eyes darkened. "That Muggle filth was never truly your father . Elara bewitched him—spells, potions, charms to make him under her control during her pregnancy with you so he was just a slave . A disgrace, but effective."
Walburga sneered. "She vanished from the family, lived in secret… spent her final year hidden, pregnant, isolated. I watched from afar. When she died during childbirth, her enchantments broke. That man—freed from her control—dumped you at an orphanage."
Her gaze hardened. "She kept a safehouse near that disgraceful Weasley brood. No one outside the family knows it exists."
Turning to Kreacher, she commanded, "Fetch the key."
The elf disappeared and reappeared moments later, presenting an old iron key to Cael.
"Legally, the house is yours," Walburga added. "After her death, I ordered Kreacher to bind it under Black family protections. It should still hold… though I expect scavengers have tried."
Cael pocketed the key, mind racing with possibilities.
"One thing," he pressed. "Why not pass the Black legacy to Draco Malfoy? He's your blood, isn't he?"
Walburga's expression contorted with disgust. "The Malfoy line is cursed. Since ancient times, they bear only one child per generation. If a second is born, it means infidelity—proof of disgrace. The curse ensures it."
She sniffed with disdain. "And regardless, the Malfoys are unworthy to lead the House of Black."
Cael rose to his feet, satisfied. "Very well. We have an understanding. I'll fulfill the contract… eventually."
Walburga's laughter echoed again. "I'll be watching you, boy. Fulfill your duty, give the Black family an heir… after that, live or die as you please."
Cael's mouth twitched with faint amusement. "Good to know."
Turning to Kreacher, he ordered, "Take me back to the Leaky Cauldron."
"With pleasure, young master."
With a final CRACK, they disappeared, reappearing in his rented room moments later.
Before Cael could settle, the system chimed softly in his mind:
"First clue acquired: Your mother's identity, her origin, and the location of her hidden home. The next step… investigate."
Cael held the old iron key tightly in his palm, eyes narrowing with resolve.
Time to find out who Elara Black really was… and what she left behind.