Eleven-year-old Sirius Black tilted his head as he stared at the aging tapestry of their family tree. There he was, his name, in bright gold thread. He would be the greatest wizard ever, he decided. He would save the world from Mudbloods and half-breeds and traitorous scum, and maybe even a dragon – no, a whole pack of dragons - and a manticore and a werewolf too - and then Mother and Father will look at him with pride, because then, he will have become what they have always wanted for a son, and not a disappointment of an heir.
A croaking voice brought him out of his reverie. "Mistress will be glad to be rid of young master." Kreacher entered the drawing room and dropped his trunk on the floor with a thud. The elf turned his protruding, bloodshot eyes toward Sirius. "The boy is always causing trouble. Kreacher hopes he will not disgrace the family name at Hogwarts. How my mistress will be shamed. Master Regulus would have made a much better heir."
"Go away, Kreacher." Sirius said with a glare. "You don't know anything."
And with a skeptical look, Kreacher shuffled out of the drawing room.
Stupid house elf, thought Sirius, determined to think no more of it.
But as Sirius turned back to look at the tapestry, the gold letters that spelled his name seemed a lot less bright. It wasn't fair, for he tried harder than Regulus to be good, and met with less success, only trouble and admonishment. He couldn't sit still. He made noise. He smiled too much. There wasn't much his mother liked, but as far as her dislikes, all three topped the list. And Sirius wondered, not for the first time, if there was something very wrong with him.
A rustle at the door made Sirius scowl again. "That was an order, Kreacher," he said sharply.
But it was Regulus this time, watching him solemnly from the doorway. Though each was a little jealous of the other, they were brothers, and in a house as cold and gloomy as Grimmauld Place, that meant something.
"If you stand there any longer, I'm going to hex you," said Sirius, waving his wand threateningly.
"You're not allowed to use magic yet."
Sirius pointed his wand at one of the skulls sitting on the coffee table. "Wingardium leviosa," he said, and the prized trophy head flew up and up and up.
Regulus stepped inside. "Mother will be furious if she sees that."
"I'm not frightened of Mother." Sirius replied haughtily.
But the glance at the door and the quickly muttered counter-spell determined that to be a lie.
"I'm leaving you know," he said, when his brother continued to stand there in silence.
"Yeah." Replied Regulus, and the tone in which that word was spoken spoke more than all the words he never spoke. Some would call Regulus stiff and standoffish, and they would be right, but Sirius knew how to transfigure his brother from a piece of furniture into a human being without Transfiguration.
"You'll be alright." Sirius said softly. "Mother never minds you."
Regulus looked away. For while it was true their mother saw the elder son only to criticize, she saw the younger not at all.
"Besides, it's only one year. Then you'll be at Hogwarts too, and we'll both be in Slytherin, and we'll turn Mudbloods into frogs and blood traitors into weasels and we'll fight dragons together!"
Regulus frowned. "I don't want to fight dragons."
Sirius thought for a moment. "You will next year." He said confidently. "Slytherins all want to fight dragons."
"Really?"
"Merlin did. And he was a Slytherin. Mind you, if you're not, we'll disown you."
Regulus' eyebrows furrowed up in worry.
"No pressure, Reg." Sirius gestured at the family tree. "Blacks always go to Slytherin. But imagine being put in Gryffindor. I'd take the first train back."
Regulus didn't answer, and Sirius looked at around the room thoughtfully. "Can you believe I'll really be gone from this place? Think of all the memories! I tried to hide a pixie in here once, remember? Aunt Elladora was over. Remember how it hung her up on the chandelier?"
But Regulus didn't smile. "You'll write me, won't you?"
"Even better! I'll send you loads of pixies!"
Sirius checked his laugh when he heard the sound of footsteps approaching.
"Well? Are your things ready?" Mrs. Black asked coldly.
"Yes, Mother." He replied.
"Go wait out in the entrance hall. Your father will be down in a moment."
This surprised Sirius. Like the Loch Ness Monster, Mr. Black was an elusive figure, occasionally spoken of, but rarely seen. He spent most of his hours reading wizarding genealogies up in his office, going to knarl-races, and paying vast sums of money to high-ranking Ministry officials. Unlike his wife, he never seemed to find time to terrorize his children.
"Can you believe Father's really coming to King's Cross with us?" Sirius said to his brother as they waited in the entrance hall. He didn't like it very much. The corpses hanging from the walls crept him out, but Mother thought they made for good decoration.
"You're the heir, aren't you?" Said Regulus, staring at a particularly bloody trunk. "I suppose he'll want to see you off."
Mr. and Mrs. Black soon arrived, conversation ceased, and together, the four of them stepped outside into the street.
They got into their enchanted car in silence; they drove in silence; they arrived in silence. But Platform Nine and Three Quarters was not silent, and for Sirius, the clamor evoked feelings of the most exquisite delight. The scarlet steam engine blew puffs of white steam and whistled cheerfully. All around him, students bustled to and fro, chattering over the noise of mewing cats and hooting owls.
"Geoffrey Doge has a tarantula! It's supposed to be this big!" He heard one boy say, his hands stretched out to the size of a platter.
"Sirius, you have dirt on your nose. What are you? A common Mudblood?" Snapped Mrs. Black, and Sirius quickly rubbed at his nose.
Vaguely, through the sounds and sweet airs of the bustling station, Sirius heard his mother lecture him on the responsibilities of being a Black, but he did not care. He was free. It was the beginning of a whole new life.
And as the train whistled, he turned to his Regulus. "I'll see you at Christmas." Sirius said, and then he was off.