Uncle Alphard

At just seven years old, Sirius Black had grown to resent his family. Already, at such a young age, he knew he was different. He had felt it his whole life—just a mere seven years—but he couldn't understand why.

At this point in his life, there was nothing to set him apart from his family. There wasn't yet any scandal surrounding the outlaw that Sirius Black would become. There was no shame he'd brought them, no rebellion. He had no idea of all that was to come, and yet, he still felt like an outcast in his own family.

It was no secret that the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black took family values very seriously. Not yet being tempted to stray from the path set out by his ancestors, Sirius strived to uphold his family's name, following the lead of his older cousins, whilst simultaneously setting an example for his younger brother, Regulus.

All the Black children mindlessly set out to uphold the noble status they'd been granted. It was in their blood, after all. It's what was expected of them.

Except Sirius was different.

Sirius Black, at a mere seven years old, though doing exactly what was expected of him, was the only one to question why.

"Your cousins are here," Walburga Black curtly informed her eldest son as she bustled past him in the hallway of No. 12 Grimmauld Place.

Sirius slinked back into the shadows, full of contempt. He despised his house, feeling like a prisoner; He despised his brother, favoured by his mother for no apparent reason; And he despised family gatherings. All they did was emphasise his differentness. All they achieved was inciting in him a total lack of any sense of belonging.

There were few family members of whose company Sirius enjoyed. And after his mother, his least favoured one had just crossed the threshold.

"It smells like troll in here," Bellatrix Black sneered, wrinkling her nose in disgust. She paused when she spotted Sirius at the foot of the stairs, peering at him from beneath her heavy-lidded eyes, and broke out into her infamously wicked grin. Whenever that malicious look adorned Bellatrix Black's face, you knew she was about to torment somebody.

And in that moment, all her attention happened to be focused on her younger cousin. Sirius internally prepared himself for the verbal attack.

"Not a troll," she cackled delightfully, "but a worm."

Sirius felt his body relax. Was that the best she could do? Honestly, since she'd been at Hogwarts she was losing her wit. Or maybe it was just because her parents were stood behind her.

"A worm?" he asked with raised eyebrows. "I would have thought a troll would have been worse, personally."

Bellatrix broke into a smirk, looking almost impressed that Sirius was answering back rather than letting her walk all over him. She liked getting her way, but she also liked a challenge. "Alright, troll, I'll blame you for the smell."

Sirius was about to point out the troll's leg umbrella stand to her left, but something at the back of his mind—a witty, little voice he'd been hearing a lot recently—urged him to continue to challenge her. "I'd rather smell like a troll than look like one."

Bellatrix looked at him sharply, eyes wide—a clear warning sign. "You little—"

But Bellatrix never got to finish hurling abuse at him, interrupted by the girl who shoved past her.

"Honestly, Bella, don't be so crude," Narcissa said disapprovingly, silencing the girl. "And he's right. You know, if you actually brushed your hair every now and again," she tutted. "And stop blocking the hall."

Bellatrix glared daggers at her sister as she bustled past in that prissy, conceited way that she did.

Narcissa looked down her nose as she passed Sirius. "It couldn't hurt if you were to be introduced to a comb either."

The two Black sisters could not have been more different if they'd tried. Bellatrix, the elder of the two, was violent and brash, conniving and immoral, with a streak of darkness running right through her heart. And her appearance reflected the darkness (and arguably, the madness) within—wild and untamed.

Narcissa, on the other hand, though several years younger, looked down on those around her. Immaculately groomed to perfection, she was incredibly vain and conceited. She walked with an air of superiority meant to intimidate and belittle those around her. Sirius resented both of them, though when it came down to it, he supposed Narcissa was the lesser of two evils.

The only one of the Black sisters he could actually tolerate was—

"Andromeda," Sirius' Aunt Druella snapped. "Stop loitering in the hallway." She eyed Sirius with the same disdain her daughter's had. "Where's your mother?"

"The kitchen," Sirius grunted in response, refusing to look her in the eye. He was so sick of everybody looking down on him. She too strode past him, following Narcissa's lead, closely followed by Sirius' Uncle Cygnus. Bellatrix trailed behind, making a special effort to knee Sirius in the shins as she walked past.

"You shouldn't slouch like that," Cygnus grunted as Sirius clutched at his leg, reeling in pain.

"You okay?" Andromeda asked, once the unpleasant party had passed, leaving them alone in the hallway. The middle Black sister, and Sirius' favourite cousin by a longshot.

"Yep," Sirius forced himself to say, offering a rather strained and unconvincing smile.

Andromeda, too, couldn't have been more different from her sisters if she'd tried. Somehow she'd managed to escape the cruel, hostile façade that the Black family shrouded themselves in. Always smiling, always laughing, Sirius found Andromeda to very down-to-earth. Unlike her sisters, she had a kind heart and a warm smile to match. It was the only reason Sirius tolerated family gatherings such as this.

"Tell me about Hogwarts," he pleaded.

"Hogwarts?" Andromeda asked with amusement. "What do you want to know? It's just school."

"But what's it like?" Sirius urged. "What are the classes like? And the students? And the teachers? Is it really difficult? Do you have to do lots of tests?"

Andromeda was gently laughing at his enthusiasm, but Sirius didn't care. He had conjured high aspirations for life at Hogwarts, dreaming about the day he'd eventually get his letter. For him, it was an escape.

An escape from his dismal family life; an escape from his mother's high expectations and his family's cruel taunts; It was an escape from everything he loathed. He could only dream of the day, still four years down the line, where he would finally feel like he was in a place where he was accepted.

And yet, he feared it wouldn't be everything he wanted it to be. What it life at Hogwarts was no different to life in grim old Grimmauld Place? What if his life was nothing but a downward spiral from the day he was born, the same feelings of self-doubt and inadequacy that haunted him wherever he went?

"Honestly?" Andromeda asked. Sirius nodded eagerly, holding his breath. A smile crept onto his cousin's face. "Oh, Sirius, it's wonderful."

"Really?"

"Well and truly. The best place on earth! Everybody will tell you how amazing Hogwarts is, but you'll never truly know until you walk through those doors for the first time. It's everything they say it will be, and so much more. But hey," she grinned, "I've not done my OWLs or anything yet so maybe I'm not the best person to ask about the overall experience."

But Sirius didn't care. Andromeda's response filled him with hope.

From down the hall, they could hear their respective parents' voice ringing out. "Well, Alphard said he'd be here, Walburga. But you know what he's like. He's so unreliable it wouldn't surprise me if he doesn't actually—"

A sharp rap on the door silenced her immediately. Sirius' heart skipped a beat.

"Answer the door, Sirius!" Walburga barked from the kitchen. "And then go and get your brother."

Sirius begrudgingly traipsed to the front door, trying not to get his hopes up. Just suppose it wasn't who he hoped it would be, but instead another dismal family member he despised. He didn't think he could take much more criticism.

As the door swung open, and the beaming face of a middle-aged man with the youthful energy of a teenager appeared, Sirius could have sworn his stomach did a somersault.

"Uncle Alphard!" Sirius exclaimed, giddy with delight.

"The very man himself," the elder man said cheerily. His eyes lit up when he saw both Sirius and Andromeda. "Well, look at that—my favourite niece and my favourite nephew!" He peered over their shoulders, leant forward and whispered, "But don't tell the others," before offering them a wink.

For the first time in a long while, Sirius found his smile was genuine.

"Why, exactly, were you late?"

"Time slipped away," Alphard dismissed cheerily, helping himself to a pitcher of what Sirius assumed to be Firewhisky. Walburga frowned at her brother.

The Blacks were gathered around the elongated dining room table of no. 12 Grimmauld Place. Sirius was sat quietly, his younger brother on one side, Andromeda on the other. Sirius watched his uncle, sat opposite him, with awe. What wouldn't he do to be like his uncle, he wondered to himself.

That was a man who had everything in life figured out. Happy, free, not a care in the world, and yet still able to uphold his family's name. Sirius had only ever associated being a worthy Black with being overwhelmingly miserable. It seemed the only way he would ever find acceptance in this family was if he sacrificed everything he thought might give him happiness, and instead upheld the morals his family deemed worthy.

And yet, somehow, his uncle had broken free from the mould—both respected and happy. Sirius was well and truly in awe.

But by the way his mother was glaring at Alphard, Sirius knew his uncle was treading a thin line. Always pushing the limits but never quite exceeding them, Sirius longed to know his secret. Uncle Alphard was the sole Black, besides Andromeda, who actually made him feel welcome and actually seemed to be proud to be related to him.

Walburga, frustrated with her brother, instead turned her wrath on her son. "Pass the potatoes, Sirius," she ordered.

Sirius let his fork clatter to his plate, making a noise that made everybody glare at him and wince. In order to redeem himself and please his mother, he went for the bowl of potatoes a little too eagerly, misjudged the piping hot temperature of the bowl, and dropped it rather spectacularly onto the gravy boat his mother cherished.

The delicate china smashed instantly, making an even worse noise than the fork had. Gravy seeped across the table cloth. Narcissa shrieked as it pooled in her lap.

"Sirius," Walburga hissed as everybody else looked at him with contempt. "You are seven. You should be capable of—"

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Alphard interrupted, pulling his wand out. In an instant, the mess had been cleared up and the bowl recovered.

This only seemed to infuriate Walburga further. "We don't use magic for such trivial things," she said disapprovingly. "Honestly, Alphard, that's why we have Kreacher."

"And as charming as your enslaved house-elf is," Alphard replied tartly, "I see no reason to exploit him when it's not necessary."

The fire that burned in Walburga's eyes was so fierce that Sirius actually felt himself tremble, even though it wasn't aimed at him. How Alphard had the courage to stand up to her impressed him immensely. It was like poking a dragon with a stick.

Alphard glared right back at her as he took a sip from his goblet, as casual and collected as possible.

"Did you say Sirius was seven?" Druella inquired, trying to dissipate the tension between the two siblings.

Walburga finally looked away. "Yes, that's right."

"Shouldn't he be showing signs of magical potential by now then? I know all my daughters did."

Sirius sank back down into his seat under his mother's accusatory, penetrating gaze. From out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bellatrix mime stabbing him with her fork with a wicked grin.

"Sirius has always been a late-bloomer," Walburga dismissed, looking embarrassed by her son's inadequacy. "He's always been a bit slow, but that's nothing to worry about. Not like Regulus, you know. He's very advanced for his age. I wouldn't be surprised if he started showing signs soon."

Sirius knew what she was doing. She was trying to draw the attention away from him—her duller, slower, failure of a son. The proud, glowing smile she gave Regulus was enough to make Sirius want to smash the gravy boat again. He settled for stabbing his potato a little more aggressively than was necessary.

Unfortunately, Walburga's attempt at distraction wasn't enough to dissuade her sister-in-law. "But aren't you worried?"

"About what?"

"That he might not even possess magic. That he might just be a—"

"How dare you," Walburga hissed, losing her temper. The whole room was riddled with tension. "My son, no matter how underdeveloped he may be, is certainly not what you're suggesting, and I'm quite frankly offended that you would suggest he is!"

Sirius had no idea what they were talking about, but he knew the blame for such an accusation would fall on him. He'd pay the price later for humiliating his mother, even though he'd done nothing to provoke it. His mere failure to be as accomplished as his younger brother was enough to earn his mother's disapproval.

"He is a Black," Walburga said indignantly, failing to recover from the level of hysteria she'd quickly reached.

Druella, much like her daughter Narcissa loved to do to people, looked down her nose at her. "Well, he wouldn't be the first."

"Laziness, incompetence, and his lack of respect does not mean he's a—"

"Hey, why don't you lay off the boy," Alphard cut in, a little angrily. Sirius flashed him a look of gratitude. "He's only seven. He'll show signs soon, don't you worry about it. I was a late-bloomer too. I was nine before I did anything vaguely magical!"

Neither of the women looked pleased by his interruption. Sirius was just grateful the attention had been taken off of him.

"Yes, Alphard," Walburga said through gritted teeth, "but you're not exactly the best role model for my son, are you?"

Alphard let out a gentle chuckle at that. "Alright then, sister, if that's the game you want to play." He opened his arms wide. "Hit me with your best shot!"

"Reckless, impulsive, lazy. You don't have any respect for those around you; you don't have any aspirations or responsibilities; you don't have a job; you don't have a wife—"

"As appealing as you make marriage look," Alphard interrupted with a grin, "I'd rather not be tied down."

"But that's absurd!" Walburga protested. "You are a Black. It is your duty to this family to produce heirs—to carry on the family name. You need to pass on the pure magical blood that runs through your veins before it's too late!"

"I have no intentions of marrying, Walburga," Alphard said calmly. "And if that's the only reason you deem it worthy, then I'm sorry to say, you've made it even less appealing to me."

"Listen, Alphard, I know plenty of women who I can introduce you to. Respectable, pure-blooded women who—"

"Oh, I know plenty of women myself," he interrupted, offering her a wink.

"Oh, yes?" Walburga challenged nastily. "And tell me, who exactly is your latest fling?"

"Quite a pleasant girl, actually. She's a sportswoman—plays Quidditch with the Holyhead Harpies."

"And her blood status?"

"Irrelevant."

Walburga slammed her hand down on the table, losing patience once more. "It is not irrelevant. You cannot be consorting with women who lack—"

And she was off again, but neither Sirius nor Alphard were listening. Sirius was observing his uncle across the table again, nothing but the utmost awe and respect for the man. He had everything. Despite a treacherous family name to uphold and an overbearing sister, he was so carefree, so laidback. Womanising, mischievous, free from responsibility, and most importantly, happy.

What wouldn't he do to be like him, Sirius wondered to himself.

Alphard took another sip from his goblet as Walburga's shrieking voice continued to pierce the former tranquillity of what should have been a pleasant family dinner. He winked at his favourite nephew with laughter in his eyes.

What wouldn't he do to be like him.

"I wouldn't be surprised if they one day burned my name off there too," an amused voice piped up from behind Sirius.

Sirius immediately retracted his hand from where he'd been absentmindedly running it over one of the burnt patches on the Black family tapestry. It was one of several. He was relieved and even overjoyed to find his Uncle Alphard stood there.

The rest of the family were outside. Sirius had wanted the distance, and clearly, so had Alphard.

"You'd be disowned," Sirius pointed out in a trembling voice. He could think of no worse fate—no greater dishonour—than being cast off of the tapestry. But then again, the thought of bringing such shame to his mother almost excited him.

"I can think of far worse things to be," Alphard shrugged. "Heartless, for one. Cruel, dull, prejudiced. Living an unsatisfactory life all in the name of honouring my corrupted family."

Sirius' eyes were wide, but Alphard was giving him a meaningful look, the same warmth in his eyes he'd displayed over dinner. "Sirius," he said with sincerity, "If there's only one thing you take away from me, then I want it to be this."

Alphard cleared his throat. Sirius held his breath, hanging on his every word.

"There is no greater punishment than belonging to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. And there is no greater reward than living your life for yourself, despite being a member of such a family."

Sirius didn't know what to say. It was an honour to be a Black—his whole life he'd been assured of it. How could Alphard be so calm about his traitorous attitude? How could he turn his back on his own family?

"A little rebellion can be a good thing, Sirius," Alphard informed his nephew wisely. "There's no shame in being blasted off that bloody tapestry. In fact"—he paused to smirk—"let's see if we can't both of us get blasted off."

The very notion of Alphard's challenge filled Sirius with a confusing combination of both dread and excitement.

"I'm sure they'll find a way to disown us without us even trying," Sirius said weakly.

Alphard ruffled Sirius' hair. "Yeah," he sighed. "I'm sure they will. But I'll tell you something—the day I'm disowned from the Black family will be the happiest of my life."

Sirius said nothing in response. His Uncle Alphard was playing a dangerous game, but more than ever before, Sirius saw the appeal of such a thing.

"Now," Alphard announced, looking delighted. "Your brother, Regulus—he's a bit of a pushover. I can teach you some great pranks if you want. It'll keep you entertained until you get to Hogwarts. And hey," he exclaimed, "take them Hogwarts with you! Everybody loves a prankster. But do me a favour, Sirius."

"Anything," the boy promised.

He gave his nephew one final wink. "Tell them your Uncle Alphard taught you."

Originally written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition Season 3—Round 5

Team: Holyhead Harpies
Position: Captain
Task: Write about your team's chosen character pre-Hogwarts (Sirius Black)