Adieu, Grimmauld
Sirius Black stormed up the stairs of 12 Grimmauld Place to his conveniently remote bedroom. He slammed the door shut and lay on his bed, furious. "Why do I live with these bloodthirsty people?" he thought. Enveloped in anger, he closed his eyes to calm down and try not to think about his new predicament. A few minutes later, he heard the door to his room open, and the floor creak as a person slowly made their entry.
"Siri," a voice spoke with caution.
"Yes," Sirius groaned. He was not in the mood to talk.
Regulus Black, his younger brother, continued into the room, feeling prompted by Sirius' reply. He was determined to reconcile his parents and Sirius after the argument that had just taken place at dinner. All he needed to do was talk to him.
"Sirius, come on. It's not a big deal. It's a… family tradition. What we were made for," Regulus began.
Sirius interrupted him. "I was not made to be a killer." He looked at his brother, and rolled his ebony eyes.
"You're not a killer, and you're not going to be. It's more of a rite of passage Sirius, a pureblood rite of passage. Everyone in our family is or is going to be a Death Eater. No one has actually killed anyone yet. They're just scaring the mudbloods." Regulus chuckled and nudged his older brother. Sirius moved away.
"I don't believe in this stupid cult. In their stupid leader. You're right Reggie; no one has actually killed anyone. Yet. Which means they will. I don't want to be a part of that. Why can't I just live a regular life? I don't want greatness and power, not that way. This Voldemort, his cause, it's genocide Reggie. Can't you see that? I don't need a mark on my body to prove that I'm a pureblood. Who am I proving it to? Where does this all end?" Sirius sighed. He was full of questions, yet there were no answers for him.
Regulus stared at his brother's still form. He thought carefully. "That's the thing. It's the start of a new age. It's a revolution. It never officially started, but it's always been there and it's not going to end now. It's just the beginning. Slowly, people are realizing that our schools, our jobs, our cities, are being corrupted by Muggles; posers who dress and act like witches and wizards. They don't belong here. They don't have the right!" Regulus' eyes illuminated with excitement. He really believed in the Death Eater ideal. But he was still young, still very naïve. He had many more years before he'd become a Death Eater. He was only fourteen.
"Regulus, what don't you understand? There is no difference between you and them. Blood doesn't make you superior. Merit does. Blood doesn't do anything but sustain life, it's not meant to take it away!" Sirius struggled to explain his point to his younger brother. How could anyone believe that it was right to eliminate three-quarters of the population, on the basis of heritage? He knew it was only a matter of pride and prejudice, of pureblood ambitions for power and control, of the Black mentality of their superiority over the rest of society. He couldn't understand why? In the end, what would they achieve? He didn't know where the absurd concept began. Yet, it didn't matter. Sirius did not want to be part of any of it.
"Mom and dad just want the best for you," Regulus spoke confidently, interrupting his brother's thoughts.
Silence followed. Sirius sat up, his back rigid. He did not speak for several more minutes. He simply looked deeply at his brother with his stern black eyes, without blinking, without even breathing. Very slowly he spoke.
"Your mother and your father do not want what's best for me. They want what's best for them. Understand now, younger brother, all that you do for the Death Eaters and their cause is not to fulfill your own ambitions. It's to fill theirs."
Regulus did not answer him. He looked at his brother's harsh face and shook his head. He knew that he had meant it. Every word.
"I don't believe you! I don't believe that! I can't," he groaned.
"Don't believe it. It doesn't concern me. Just get out of my room!" Sirius lay back down on his bed, turning his back to his brother. He no longer wanted to talk. He had come to a resolution. There was nothing left to say now.
Regulus remained seated on his brother's bed for a few more moments, thinking over their conversation. He thought over the argument that had occurred at the dinner table, his parents' threats and proposals. He was almost ready to believe in his brother. But he cast the idea aside and assured himself that his parents had the best intentions for Sirius and himself. Sirius was just different from them. There was something strange and wrong about him. Regulus was very disturbed by this notion. He left his brother's room in a personal state of agony.
Sirius slept uncomfortably that night. At quarter to five, he woke with a start, sweating. He knew he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep, so he got up to prepare himself for the big day ahead of him. He turned his lamp on; shadows played off the bedposts and picture frames. He grabbed one of the pictures decorating his dresser. A moving image of him and his best friend James stared back at him. They were smiling and laughing; James was ruffling up his hair. He placed the frame carefully in his suitcase, along with many other possessions, his clothes, his books, quills, and cauldron. He tucked his wand into his robes. It was nearly dawn when Sirius crept silently down the stairs to make his escape. He was nearly at the front door when he heard something stir behind him. Sirius stopped. Of course, it was just too good to be true. He wouldn't be able to leave without a fight. The prospects of such a clean removal were slim, but he had hoped that there was some slight chance that he'd get away from this wretched family without being noticed. Unfortunately, it seemed that was not the case.
"Where are you going?" a cold voice asked him.
Sirius stood in front of the door, his suitcase in his hand, lingering behind his still form. He turned around to face his opponent, the person who had made his life miserable for sixteen long years. Sirius looked at his mother, at her arched eyebrows and black eyes, set in a square, porcelain face. Her dark hair fell in waves around her shoulders. She was dressed in her robes; she must've been awake all night, expecting him. Her arms were pressed tightly against her sides. Sirius noticed her fingers twitching.
"I'm going to James'," Sirius answered flatly.
"No you're not," his mother replied through pursed lips. Her face was extremely severe.
"Yes, I am. You cannot stop me," Sirius spoke roughly. His emotions were beginning to flare; it was audible in his voice. He struggled to control his feelings.
"If you leave this house Sirius Black, do not expect a welcome back. If you leave now, you are banished from this household and this family. Your face will be another black scar in the Black family history. If you leave, don't you ever come back."
Her voice wavered slightly as she spoke her last words. They seemed to echo through the house, reverberating through Sirius' head. He would never forget this moment with her. He took one last look at the dark house he had spent his whole life in; at the torches lining the hallway he stood in, at the faded wallpaper and wooden staircase, at the dark curtains. Everything was clean, not a speck of dust or dirt tarnished the Black family home. He looked down at the sparkling floors, staring at the marvelous black marble, where he stood inches from the door, his only escape. Finally, he raised his head to look at the woman he had for so long called 'mother'. Her eyes were sinister; they glittered with a melancholic malice. He knew he would never see her face again. Yet, no response stirred in his heart.
"Goodbye mother," Sirius spoke lamely. He turned to the door and left the lot of 12 Grimmauld Place.
Only when he had completely closed the door behind him, only when he had taken his first deep breath of the morning air, of his new freedom, did he realize his mother had not made a single reply. But Sirius knew that she was still standing there, still and standing in the same position he had left her.
"At long last," he thought. He let out a long sigh of relief.
Sirius strolled down the street, dragging his luggage behind him, unsure of where he was going, but certain that he had made the right choice. His life had already been a series of misfortunes; he doubted it could get any worse than it already was. But he was glad; glad for the opportunity he had created for himself, to live a new life free of darkness. Sirius Black did not want to be the most powerful wizard in the world, he did not want to lead revolutions and commit crimes in the name of an unjust cause. He just wanted to fill his life with great moments, great moments with the three greatest people he'd ever met, knowing that all the troubles in the world could not affect him if they were by his side. That was his version of the ultimate power – to stand by those he loved.