For the Quidditch League, Tutshill Tornados' Seeker. Write a fic based on Matilda
WC: 1502 by Google Docs
The first time Sirius read a Muggle book was the summer after fifth year. Lily Evans, of all people, had lent it to him.
"What's this?" he had asked when she had shoved it into his hand on the last day of term.
"A book," she answered simply, no doubt looking around for James; he and Sirius were usually attached at the hip.
"I know what a book is," he replied, feeling a little bit offended. "Why are you giving it to me?"
"Thought you might enjoy it," she said, shrugging, before looking at someone over Sirius's shoulder. "Alice! Wait up!"
Sirius stared at Lily's retreating back in confusion, but put the book in his robes' pocket all the same, promising to himself that he would look at it when he got home and was safely confined in his room.
Thirty hours later, after the usual 'warm' welcome from his parents, Sirius flopped onto his bed and pulled out the book Lily had given him from his trunk, where he had placed it after changing out of his robes.
The book was as worn as Sirius's potions book, the one that had been through five Black generations. The yellow lettering on the front was still clear though and Sirius could read the title Matilda.
"What is this, Evans?" he muttered under his breath as he opened the bok.
It was a good book, he decided two hours later. At least the first half, which he had read. His least favorite characters were Matilda's adoptive parents and the headmistress, Miss. Trunchbull, because they felt slightly familiar, although he didn't quite know why. They were downright abusive to Matilda; Sirius didn't have anything like that.
He was interrupted by Regulus knocking on the door and telling him that he had to come out for their annual "first-dinner-of-the-summer" meal. He took a deep breath, put the book in his pocket and walked out, bracing himself for the worst.
The beginning of dinner was always the worst in Sirius' opinion. They always started it very formally, and Sirius hated it. His hand kept on inching towards his new book, which he wanted more and more the longer he had to sit with his family.
"What's in your pocket, Sirius?" Regulus asked, seeing Sirius' movements.
"Nothing," Sirius replied, much too quickly.
"Empty them," his mother demanded. Sirius was stuck. She'd get the book anyway he played this. He took a deep breath, looked his mother in the eyes.
"No."
Walburga frowned.
"No?"
"No?" Sirius said again, but this time he couldn't help but cower a little bit under Walburga's gaze.
"Accio," Orion said, pointing his wand at Sirius' pocket, cool as ever. The book flew out and a dark sense of dread set over Sirius. "Interesting," his father mused, looking at the book's cover. "A Muggle book?"
"A Muggle book?" Walburga repeated, outraged. "What son of ours has a Muggle book?"
"Neither, anymore," Orion said with a glare at Sirius. He pointed his want at the book again and all the pages sliced out of it. "Come, Sirius, son," he added, with just a hint of anger in his voice.
Sirius had not spoke since his secret had been found out. He had been too busy silently cursing himself to talk. Orion led him to a small room that Sirius had not been in since his was five. He hated that room.
"In," Orion ordered. "You know we don't use any Muggle objects in this household."
Sirius walked in stiffly, not daring to disobey further. He had really screwed up this time. When Sirius heard the click of a lock outside, he went to sink to the floor and just think, but of course, he wasn't able. His mother had made sure of that. Instead he carefully leaned against the back wall, wondering how he had managed to land in this mess once again.
Sirius first got locked in the 'punishment room' when he was five years old. He was never allowed in it before then, not to play with Regulus, not even to sleep. When he was five he found out why.
It was the very start of the day and it was after breakfast. Sirius had bounced in his seat all the way through his cereal, waiting for his parents to say something. They didn't, even at the very, very end.
"Mum?" Sirius said to her, perhaps louder than he ought to have.
"What, Sirius?" Walburga snapped, looking very tired and irritated.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" he asked, motioning to himself. Even at five years old, Sirius had zero self control and always had a twinge of rudeness.
"Don't use that tone with me!" Walburga growled. "I am your mother!"
"But—" Sirius hesitated. He had never seen his mother angry like that. Perhaps he was a bit rude, but she looked livid. "But it's my birthday," he added in a whisper, too quiet for Walburga to hear him.
Walburga motioned for him to follow her with her hand.
"Come here, Sirius."
And she brought him to that room, the room he could never get into.
"You aren't to use that tone with me. I am your mother," Walburga scolded him, looking, once again, very irritated. "You will stay here until you learn that."
Sirius wasn't very bothered; he wanted to find out what was in the forbidden room. Walburga flicked her wand at it and the door flung open. Right away, Sirius could tell why he couldn't go in it. It wasn't much bigger than a cupboard and nails were sticking out of the wall in every direction. He had never known his parents to damage property in such a way before, but there it was, in front of his eyes.
Walburga gave him a nudge, making him stumble in, locking the door with her wand from the outside after it closed shut. Sirius knew, because he heard the click.
The only wall without nails sticking out of it was the very back wall which Sirius went to for some comfort, but not very much.
He was let out two hours later.
When he was six, Sirius should've gotten put into the Punishment Room, but, miraculously, he got anyway with it.
He was at breakfast and he was staring at his father's head, hating it for the first time in his short life, before he even really knew what hate was. He was thinking about how he hated that their hair matched, when suddenly, their hair didn't match.
Orion's hair had turned bright blond.
Walburga and Regulus both noticed it. She pointed while he tried to stifle his laughter.
"What is it, dear?" Orion asked, alarmed.
"Your hair has turned blond!"
Orion snatched up his goblet, sloshing pumpkin juice all over his breakfast, and peered at his reflection in the silver. His own eyes confirmed that his hair was, in fact, blond. He stood up and looked from Regulus to Sirius, who were both the right age for accidental magic. He then closed his eyes for a count of three and shrugged. With a swish of his wand, his hair was back to normal.
"Well, we know that at least one of you can actually do magic," he said, leaving the incident at that.
When Sirius was seven, he had spent time in the Punishment Room for five whole hours all because he had stolen a Galleon from his parents' personal store in their bedroom.
The found out because Sirius had been sloppy; he hadn't been very good at covering himself up after he left the room. He didn't even know why he did it, as his family shared all the gold and he didn't even have anywhere he could spend it. His mother had seen him trying to sneak back to his room and had stopped him in his tracks.
"Hold it!"
Sirius had frozen to the ground. He knew then that he was going to be put in the Punishment Room for the longest time yet, he was going to be in so much trouble.
But he wasn't.
Instead, Walburga picked him up, hung him upside down and shook him. It hurt his brain. The single Galleon fell out of his pocket, along with a few sweets that his Uncle Alphard had given him. Walburga swept them all up and, later, Sirius would know that she gave everything, even the Galleon, to Regulus.
When Walburga put him down, he thought that was the end of his punishment, but his mother led him to the Punishment Room anyway and left him there for five hours.
Sirius only had to wait four hours in the Punishment Room when he was sixteen, but he came out of it with traces of tears on his face.
He had figured out why he related to Matila being abused. He was wrong.
His parents were like that.
And he didn't even know if he would ever escape; he didn't know what happened at the end of the story.