Nobody.
From an early age, I was always aware of what it meant. Overly aware, some might say. I came from a small family that had different values than I did, and I forced myself to pretend to feel the same way though it never worked out. My brother looked up to me, and he often spent his time with me. He would talk my ear off, dress like me, and sit like me at our family dinners. But he never understood.
He never knew the pain of being a black sheep in a family full of wolves. The only thing I had in common with my family was the blood that runs through my veins, and if I could change that I would. I contemplated ending it all for while, at such a ripe age of nine and ten years old. Normal children that age contemplated pouting in their room, playing a new game or the old favorite, or who they would play with that afternoon whereas I sat in my dark room, curled up on my bed debating whether I would make it to see Hogwarts.
Hogwarts meant freedom from my parents. It was an opportunity where I could escape this torturous home for months at time, only coming home for the summer months. Whether I was there alone, or I made friends, it was still an opportunity to escape from the hellhole I was forced to call home. My father taught me curses and hexes that no one should ever have to use, my mother taught me words that should never be used when talking about living creatures, and my brother made it worse just because he looked up to our parents like they were heroes of our time.
But I made it. I made it to Hogwarts, where my parents were forced to appear with their eldest son and see him off to his first year. That was the only year they took me, after that first year they considered me "too much of a disgrace" to continue associating with me. I boarded the train 20 pounds underweight and feeling ten years older than I should have. Children in other compartments were playing Exploding Snap, yet I would walk by in fear seeing the sparks and hearing the explosions, thinking of the curses my father used on me. I eventually found an empty compartment and sat near the window, hoping people would skip by and leave this compartment to the depressed being that I was.
That's when I first met James.
He walked in, well, really, he swaggered in, proud and pompous like he always was. He slid open the door, casually sat down, and kicked his feet up. "James Potter." I recall him saying. "I'm a first year, more than ready to explore all of Hogwarts, join the Quidditch team and slaughter the other houses, and become the greatest wizard in history." He had a smirk on his face, and I didn't know if he was serious about all of it, but I didn't laugh if he was kidding. This was my first interaction with one of my classmates, and I didn't know how to react. Instinct told me to bow, he was a Potter, a large family ("of bloodtraitors," my mother would say). But, when it came to my beliefs, the instincts my family taught me were wrong. So, I tried to imitate him.
"Sirius." I proudly announced. "I'm also a first year, been looking forward to Hogwarts my entire life. Shit at Quidditch, but I can handle my own. I'll accept the challenge of who can become the greater wizard." I smirked a little, seeming more confident than I was, but the adrenaline running through my veins made me feel invincible. I didn't know what I said until after I said it, my mouth was running on its own accord. The smile on his face grew larger and I suppose I answered appropriately enough for him to deem me worthy.
"How do you feel about jokes?"
The conversation flew about and soon after our introductions, two other first years came and joined in our compartment. I didn't realize that was Lily and Snape until years later when Lily recalled how much of a jerk James and I could be. The only thing I truly remembered after they came in our compartment was the comment James made, how he would rather leave Hogwarts than be in Slytherin, the house I was destined to be in. I told him my whole family has been in Slytherin, and he told me he thought I "seemed all right." It was that moment that I knew I could have a future.
Not once had I met someone so pure, so full of life, that I felt the love radiate off them. My cold demeanor melted, I told a joke or two, and I made my first friend. James gave me hope, and made me feel as though I could move on. That was the first day I thought I could live past Hogwarts as long as this boy was by my side. The fear that he would leave me as soon as we walked into those great hall doors didn't leave me though.
I was a Black. I didn't tell James on the train, but I also never planned on telling anyone. I was one of the first students called up for the sorting, and I waited for the heartbreak of admitting to James that I was a Black. He stood next to me, jumping with excitement and whispering about how he couldn't wait to owl his parents that he's another Potter in Gryffindor and he couldn't wait to owl them about the adventures he has with his new friend, Sirius.
I had only known him for the length of a train ride, but the confidence he carried on our miniscule friendship inspired me. He chose me, he didn't care what family I was from. He never asked me, whereas I judged him strictly off his surname. Most pureblood families do, my parents parade our last name around like a bloody banner. It was customary to introduce yourself with your full name, to settle the order of the relationship right away. If it isn't offered, it is common to inquire about their surname.
But he didn't ask.
That small flame of hope that he ignited in me on the train lit up, warming me once more. I don't have to follow the traditions, the common actions, the customary responses, the hate, the bitterness, the depression… I didn't have to stick with it. He liked me as me, as the boy he met on the train. Fate brought us together, and who was I to steer her into the wrong? I was going to be the change in my family, I never fit in anyways. I might be a sheep among wolves at home, but at Hogwarts, at my real home, I was a dog with his stag. I didn't know it yet, but I knew at that moment something was different, a good different.
When my name was called, as the name Black echoed through the great hall, I didn't look to James. I marched up to the stool and waited for McGonagall to place the sorting hat on my head. I didn't slouch, or quake in fear. I sat proud in my chair, shoulders square, and my eyes locked with the hazel ones I had been in contact with for the past few hours. I had pride swimming through my grey ones, and they matched the pride in his across the room. He didn't turn away and he didn't pretend he didn't know who I was, instead he bravely acknowledged me as his equal, as his friend. By that point, I wasn't surprised the sorting hat screamed Gryffindor, because I would rather be back at Grimmauld Place for the rest of my life than be in Slytherin like my father. I wanted to be in Gryffindor, the house of the brave of heart, just like my new friend James.
James, an obvious Gryffindor, sat next to me after he was sorted, as well as the next seven years. We accomplished the impossible, we grew up together, and we eventually became the brothers that Fate believed we deserved to be. I looked up to him, James. I would've done anything he asked me to do, and to be fair, I did. I became his right-hand man, his other half. I made the mistake in fifth year of showing my true colors, the Black in me that I tried to hard to hide from James for all of these years. I knew there was still a darkness in me, a darkness that I couldn't escape easily. I was able to repress it, the flame of hope inside was able to burn some of it away, to turn the light on. We've all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That's who we really are.1 I was stupid enough to confuse the two and I nearly murdered a student, condemned another, and lost my best friend all in one night. James and Remus were able to forgive me, but I would never be able to do the same for myself. James hexed me after he turned the situation for the better, and I was left with a cut on my arm. I never healed it properly and it scarred over, and I kept it as a reminder of the consequences that comes with embracing the Black within me.
My mother was told of this mistake and said she had never been more proud of me. That was when I couldn't go back to them, the Black family. I couldn't. James and his parents set a room aside for me, and I officially moved in there. A year after that, my uncle passed away and left me with a small fortune. I eventually moved out of the Potters' and got a small loft to myself after Hogwarts. It was just me, nobody else was there. I rarely passed my time there, I was more often than not at James and Lily's place, at a pub with Remus, or working on missions for the Order. I couldn't stand being alone, having nobody around me. I had went 11 years feeling that way, I couldn't bear another minute. But my new family understood that.
James and Lily bought a house that had three bedrooms, and for the time being that third room was for me when I wanted it. Remus would spend time at my loft if he was around and we were watching Harry for James and Lily. Peter would come around when he wasn't with his mother, or when Remus was there. They went out of their ways to make me feel complete, and I'll never be able to thank my real family enough for that.
Especially not now.
Nobody felt terrifying as a child, the concept of it. Yet, at the age of 21, I never felt more scared of it. I always thought it was a nightmare that would always be in the back of my mind, but never catch up to me. The light burning in my chest made sure of that. But Remus stopped visiting me. He never told us where he went, he just disappeared one night assuring us he was fine. Peter was in hiding, keeping away to stay safe. He was the only thing keeping James, Lily, and Harry from certain death. The Potters' were hiding, and James would visit me once every few weeks when he could escape for one night. But as fall approached, it was too hard for him. Harry was fussier, the Death Eaters were too anxious to catch a whiff of them, and it was too dangerous. Only, the real danger was a rat that was too close for us to notice him under our noses.
I was all too familiar with signs of depression, how it felt, who I was in that deep abyss, but it never felt like this when I was with the Blacks. I had never felt this empty, even when I was scared I wasn't going to make it to Hogwarts. Nothing from my miserable childhood could have prepared me for the onslaught emptiness I felt when I looked into the cold dead eyes of James as he lay dead on the ground in his safehouse. The number of emotions I felt was infinite, and they eventually turned into nothing.
Nothing. So close to nobody: the same amount of people I have left that are important to me.
I couldn't handle it. I heard Harry crying. I saw Lily in the same state as James upstairs, but I couldn't register it. I was too consumed with the feeling that it was my fault that they wouldn't have been like this if I didn't convince them to quietly change their secret keeper to Peter. They trusted me, my family trusted me, and I let them down and now they were dead and I couldn't do anything to bring them back and I felt nothing and I had no one I had nobody, Harry was being sent to muggles and wouldn't understand what happened, he would be told I'm the villain, I'm the one who everyone thinks killed my family and I did, but they aren't wrong and I can't right this wrong-
But I can do one last act that brings the Black out in me.
…
Dear James,
I messed up. I ruined everything we could have had. I ruined the efforts we put into this war, and I ruined your family. Harry will grow up without his family, he will be stuck with muggles that hate him and he will be as familiar with the concept of "nobody" just as well as I did as a child. I had the hope of Hogwarts, and he won't be able to have that hope arise in him, to help him get through the first few years of his life. I'm sorry.
I understand you're a forgiving person, that you are on a high moral ground and I've always been beneath you but I can understand it more if you were to never forgive me for this grave mistake. I'm sorry. I wish I could have changed it all, I wish I could have saved you all.
I once promised you I would never drop my moral standards as low as they were in fifth year when you told me you saw how I was a member of the Black family. I promised you I would never act out that way again, that I would never be able to handle taking a life and ruining so many others at the same time. But as the scar on my arm throbs, I cannot help but break that promise. I'm going to right this wrong the only way I know how: I'm going to kill Peter. I will track him down and end his life just as swiftly as he was able to end yours. I regret so much that has happened in such little time, but I just need you to know I never meant for it to come to this, for any of this to happen…
Especially the part where you died.
Love, Sirius