Darker than black

A call to all is in order.

Blacks, all of you that are of my blood, descendants or contemporaries (though i doubt for there is much of the later), a meeting is called.

Full Moon night, 12 Grimmauld Place, 7th hour.

Well, well. What do we know, a world out of time.

It is easy to believe all this a fruit of my imagination, if I was ever one to dawdle in silly dreams. No. As real as my faithful wand lays besides me, I have found myself, alone, stranded on a strange land born of stranger magic. And here I stand, powerless and penniless, in a house ten years before my time. A house, I might add, that needs some serious up do - this place is naked as the day I bought it.

Well, one must do what one must then. I shall bid my time and watch for now. There will be plenty of it, I suspect.

It is a relief, at least, to know that many Blacks have survived me. I am looking forward to meet those of my blood.

The House of Black, dating as far back as to Norman England, were notorious for their strange propensity to marry nobility. Prominent and well-plied with gold, they gained the bulk of their power and wealth at the court before slowly losing everything to the instauration of the Secrecy Status.

( It was thus to a house that had lost much of its status yet retained all of its arrogance that Phineas Nigellus was born... )