The Noble Black By: Padfoot13X

(Note, I've made a few dramatic changes with this story so just work with me, this is my first story and I hope you like it. As a beginner, plenty of feedback is very helpful. Excuse some of the grammar mistakes and weird spelling, if you have any questions feel free to ask. Thanks a lot guys and enjoy!)

Chapter One I Hate Everything About You

I lay in my room, on my bed. Alone; for a change. Just staring at the ceiling; it stares back at me. The only light that sends shadows dancing on my wall is from a single candle that sits on my bedside table. As it burns the wax drips down onto "The Standard Book Of Spells, Grade 6." I haven't finished it and I know I should. I leave for Hogwarts in just a week and a half.
To be frank, I can't wait. I'm sick to bloody death of this house, my family everything. The Noble Blacks, noble isn't a word to describe us. You have to look really hard to find words horrible enough to describe my family. I take a deep breath as a hot, August breeze started to waft through the room, breathing on the candle, which was beginning to shed light onto the posters that are plastered on my walls. I stared at Puddlemere United (my favourite Quidditch team) as they zoomed all around in the poster. The breeze blew through the window again but it doesn't reach me. Cold air wafts through the house, through the cracks in the walls, under the bedspreads, dissolving all heat and warmth. The whole house cold, like my family. Pureblooded wizards, the darkest of the lot, forever branding me with a name that I hate the most Black.
I hear my mother calling me from downstairs. Her voice high pitched and horse. I continue to stair at the ceiling. Pretending not to heat her. Again she screams. "Sirius, Now!" I shut my eyes. Go away mum, go away, bloody hell, and leave me alone. A loud knock on the door makes me wrench open my eyes. "Sirius, downstairs in five minutes. You cousins are here." Short but sweet. I hear her "noble" foot steps stir up dust as she goes back down stairs from the attic where I live and like it.
Cousins, wonderful. I sit up and starred at the mirror, Sirius Black stared back at me. My dark hair (longer than most boys) fell in front of my piercing black eyes. I was taller that I use to be. Growing up so fast, yet still feeling the same way about my life and my family as I did when I was seven years old. I sit there starring at myself, at Sirius, hating every minute of it.
"Master Sirius should listen to his mother." I jumped at the voice. I turned to face Kreacher, my family's house elf. He stands there, dirty and smelly, his big grey eyes like glass, starring right back at me. I laugh.
"Oh yes, I must obey my dear old mum, watch me hurry downstairs to be with her, father, dear Regulus and all the other Blacks. Oh wonderful."
Kreacher doesn't laugh. Twat never properly understood sarcasm.
"Master Sirius must not anger his mother. She is a good women, a kind a powerful woman." Under his breath he muttered, "Very powerful, discipline, that's how it's done to keep the boy in line, discipline." "Ha Ha" I chortled. "Master Sirius must be a good son and respect her, master Sirius must be a good son."
I wasn't really listening anymore. I hated Kreacher with such a passion that I couldn't believe my own self-control. The urges to kick him are so very great during times like these. I lit another candle and set it on my dresser. I then went through my dresser drawers trying to find a clean shirt, easier said than done. "Is master Sirius listening?" "No"
"Master Sirius must behave and be a good son. He must not disgrace his family. It is already bad enough that the master got into Gryffindor house over Slytherin. Every black got into Slytherin." He muttered "Every decent Black, every true blooded wizard, Master is not worthy of Slytherin, Kreacher knows, Kreacher always knows."
I finally found a shirt, blood red. I put it on. I reached into the closet and pulled out my black robes. There use to be the family crest on it, but I managed to pick it out until they were just plain robes. Mum didn't love that. Kreacher was still talking. "Master Sirius continues to associate with muggles and muggle-lovers, a disgrace! Why can't master Sirius be more like his brother, master Regulus?"
Kreacher had struck a nerve, one that had always set me off. I reached over a grabbed him by his raggy disgusting shirt. (NOTE, it's not really a shirt it's more of a sack, like Dobby's only its made of like burlap or something like that.) My face was right up to his I spoke very slowly and coldly.
"Get this through your bloody thick skull Kreacher. Don't you ever compare me to Regulus again or I'll be the one to hack of your ratty little head and hang it on the wall in the main hall, understand." Kreacher nodded quickly, his eyes wide. I let him go, he was trembling. Serves him right. His trembling soon ceased as he continued his mumbling,
"Master is a horrible son, master does not deserve the life he has, the family that takes care of him, master is ungrateful!' "Yeah," I said ""spose I am."
I opened the door to my room. I took a deep breath before going down the dusty staircase going to down to the rest of the blacks...dreading every moment. I walked down to the second floor landing. Portraits hung on the walls. Ancestors to the Blacks, family, whoever they were, hanging on the wall, I knew I hated them. My great-great-grandfather Phineas Nigellus, an ex-headmaster of Hogwarts, spotted me and sat up from his chair where he was lying back lazily in his frame. "Well, well, well, dearest great-great-grandson. Where are you off too? You usually never come down from your prison- I mean room until school is over. What the occasion?" "Hows the whole being-a-total-phrat thing working for you Phineas?" I stood in front of his portrait smiling. "Now, that is no way to treat you elders." He began to pick at a fingernail. "Learn some manners young Black." Just then Kreacher ran zooming past me. He was breathing hard and nearly knocked me over as he ran down the stairs. Phineas turned his head to watch Kreacher go then rolled his eyes and sighed. "House elves, never did like them. Far too clingy if you know what I mean." He turned back towards me. "You never did properly answer my question. What's going on downstairs?" "Donno, I think my Aunt Elladora and her daughters are paying a visit. Hope I'm wrong though." "Ah, well, I don't care rightly, as long as you keep that brother of your away from my portrait. The little snot kept trying to hex me. The fact that he didn't even know how to use a wand did help." Phineas said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "Did he actually manage to hex you?" I asked with a bit of a laugh. "No, thankfully. You wonderful mother pulled him away just as he was getting the wand movement down." "Pity," I said walking away, "I'll have to show him how to do it properly next time." "Oh yes, fine example you are, fine example!" Phineas sat back in his frame, mumbling to himself about the stupidity of youth. "Actually," I thought, "according to my parents, I'm probably the worst example for Regulus ever in existence." I smiled to myself.
I reached the stairs that went down to the first floor. From my post at the top of the stairs I could surveye the goings on down below without being seen. My tall, black haired aunt Elladora was giving my mother a hug. Her daughters, Bellatrix and Narcissa, were handing their coats to a frantic Kreacher, who was eager to show my dear Aunt that he didn't want his head hacked off and hung on the wall in the front hall. Bellatrix and Narcissa were both wearing their robes with the black family crest just like their mother. The crest was embordered in scarlet thread just above the left breast pocket. They wore their crest, they were proud.
Narcissa tossed her blonde hair while looking at her mother. Bellatrix however spotted me standing in the shadows on the stairs. Bellatrix was my age. We use to get along, before Hogwarts. But ever since she was sorted into Slytherin she became a completely different person. Slytherin does that to people. Now we hardly ever get on. Unfortunately she looked just like me. Our parents use to talk about how we were almost twins with our penetrating stares and dark hair. But we both simply grew up. He dark heavy lidded eyes stared at me. She sort of cocked her head to one side, smiling. I stared back, not smiling, "Hello Sirius." She said softly.