I hope you enjoy and please review so I know what to write. I would just like to say that Sirius is not dark, but he is angry – and so would anyone be if the ones they considered friends abandoned them, and this story is Sirius-centric,
Destined to be Black
Once he was strong enough he decided it was time to move on. He turned into a human and went into the garden where he had stowed his backpack a month before. The paper had turned back into that after so long but the clothes he had stolen from the Gate Master were still clothes as they had never been anything else. It was weird to wearing someone else's underwear but 'beggars can't be choosers' he believed the saying to be, and despite his half hearted prayers for the man he'd flung into the ocean, a dead man can't complain. That was another hope while he'd been escaping, as long as he was dead, his absence would remain unknown until the next day when he was delivered his meal. The world would know about it by now though.
He crept up the stairs to where the old man was sleeping and placed a sleeping charm over him. He moved to the bathroom and on a flash of impulse grabbed a bath. He let out a hiss of delight as the hot water engulfed him, it was the first bath he'd had in over a year, and once he'd washed off most of the dirt he stood up and turned on the shower, sighing in pleasure as the hot water washed away months and months of grease and grime. Once dressed once more he took up a spare a razor and started to literally carve the messy beard off his face. He usually liked to keep a goatee, but even washed the facial hair had turned into messy clumps so it was best to just shave it all off and start again, the hair on his head was just going to have to be alright. He emerged a new man.
He rootled around the home and stole all the food that would keep, stowing it into his backpack. He moved to the cupboards and stole the man's wallet, after a month he now knew where he kept it. he left the cards, just took the money, he was not going to leave him penniless, but there was a good £200 in there, what was it with old men and carrying around a load of money instead of just leaving it in the bank? Or maybe he was just really rich, Sirius sure hoped so, this man had been very good to him and did not like the idea of stealing from him, but he needed it. That was one of the number one rules of survival when in a perilous position such as him; don't feel guilt, act first, think later, if at all, and always keep moving forward.
"I'm sorry Arnold," he whispered in a heartfelt voice as he prepared to leave the hut for the last time. "You've been nothing but good to me and I'm stealing your money and your dog, that's not fair. I don't want to do it but I need it, I'll make it up to you I swear. One day I am going to catch that rat and put him behind bars, I am going to make everyone who tormented me and kept me in Azkaban pay. One day I am going to have riches, prestige, power, everything and everyone I deserve, everything and everyone that was taken from me and I will pay you back and reward you for taking in this hound dog with more money than you could ever dream of and you can enjoy your twilight years." One tear left his eye, "goodbye Arnold."
He loved muggles; after his short stay with Arnold he was beginning to not just understand but to share Arthur Weasley's interest in them, although it border lined obsession on his part and he could be considered eccentric. They were such interesting, trusting creatures, nothing at all like witches and wizards who acted before thinking if they thought at all. He ran a hand through his now short hair and grinned feeling more refreshed and happier than he had done since Harry was born. Now that the dementors weren't hanging around him waiting to extract all of his happy thoughts he was free to smile as freely and as much as he wanted. He forced himself not to feel guilt over Arnold, he would make it up to him one day, it was time to start to reclaim what belonged to him, starting with a place he lived, Grimmauld Place.
He felt slight trepidation at apparating to that place; he knew it was deserted as he was the last Black, but he had not set foot in that place since he was sixteen, that was seven years ago and none of his memories of the place were very pleasant. He flexed his fingers, he could feel the magic flowing through him, circling round his body down to his swelling core, well, there was no need to feel so apprehensive, there was nothing there. If it was deserted then all he had to fear was a large clean up job, and if it was inhabited all he had to do was chuck people out of his home and obliviate a few minds. This house held more than its fair share of bad memories, his childhood had not been the best.
He stood on the porch, looking it up and down, there was no way strangers could get in, it was under a, load of charms to prevent that from happening. It had been abandoned for a number of years now, three at least, enough for it to lose its magnificence, albeit temporarily, but not for it to fall into a state of disrepair, at least, not anything a little magic could not fix. The house was just as he expected it to be, although with no reason for it to be hidden, easier to find than he would have liked, that was the first thing he'd have to fix now he was on the run, his concealment was imperative. He laid his hand on the front door, the wards recognised him as a Black and granted him entrance, with a swallow, he stepped inside.
The corridors and rooms were eerily dark and dusty and the whole place was just so silent. He dumped his bag in the lounge, he could deal with it later, and did a quick run of the house; it was exactly how he remembered. His room had been trashed it seemed, dumped the day he decided it was not his home anymore and his mother and cousins looked like they had taken great pleasure in doing so. In fact the only room he felt comfortable living in was the room that once belonged to Regulus. His dear deceased brother had been the favourite ever since they were little, especially since he undid the shame he brought on the family by being sorted into Griffindor instead of Slytherin like everyone else in the family.
Even though his room was decorated with little green and silver engravings and paintings of snakes it was filled with fond memories. Regulus had not been bothered with the way his house was highlighted in every decoration of the room. It did not bother him that much but it had been more of a thing to spite Sirius than feed Regulus' nonexistent passion. He ran a hand along the bed frame he was standing next to with a fond look. Despite what he and the rest of the family had thought, he did love his brother and he missed the little tyke. He had never been fond of his abusive mother or his father, although at least the old man was not insane. Yet whenever he felt down as a child and abandoned by the rest of his family, there was always Regulus.
His brow creased at the rather painful memories of his lost brother. Of course he rather ruined it by going off with the Dark Lord and getting himself killed. He just cursed himself for not taking the child out of that house early enough because he got tainted by the Black that was in their DNA and the expectations of the family. He could not help but think that if he had just taken the boy with him when he went to live with James whether he wanted to join him or not he would still be alive. James and his family would not mind having three sons to look after and although Reg had been torn between going with him and staying where he belonged, after seeing the bruises on Sirius' back they had insisted Reg come join them, but he had declined. Well there was no point feeling sorry for those who were no longer alive.
He lifted his hand from the bed frame and rubbed his fingers together, there was no dust between them... huh... that means, "Kreacher!" He bellowed with more venom than he could remember using with the little creature before, "get in here now!" God he hated that disrespectful elf and the elf hated him back, that was kind of the reason why he hated him. Sirius was in an infinitely better position though because he was the elf's master. If he gave Kreacher an order then the elf had to carry it out and the elf was forbidden from laying a hand against him. He could not even hit Sirius if his mother gave him permission. With a pop the elf was standing in front of him, staring at him in the eyes defiantly with hate filled wide eyes.
He stared down at the little form coldly; he looked just as crazy as his mother. He could not believe the infernal creature was still alive after all this time, was it because he was still bonded to him or because he believed he was bonded to a painting? Oh, talking of that painting, that was another thing he needed to get rid of as soon as he found a way how. He could not leave the infernal screeching woman just hidden behind drapes forever. He felt no familial link to her and as he was alive and had a body she had no claim on the house, she might as well be burned. It was not like burning a person, it was not as if much of her soul was in the painting, and had his mother been there in the flesh he would have felt much different anyway.
"So the blood traitor has returned home at last," the elf started to grumble as soon as he saw him. "Did young master enjoy his stay in Azkaban?" He resisted the temptation to smash him against the wall for that, he was only a house elf, too stupid to really know the effect such words could have on a person with feelings, he had served a family for years that had prided themselves on not having them. Merlin, why had he not given the elf some clothes already? He should do it right now, but then if he did so then he might run straight to the Malfoys, perhaps he should just kill him now. No, that would be cruel, even for him, perhaps there was way to clear him of his madness, and he did think he was bonded to his dead mother, who wouldn't be crazy after that?
The elf was only as horrible as he was because of who he was bonded to. Had he been treated differently he might have turned out better. He seemed a little beyond help now with how far he had declined. His fingernails which were meant to be somewhere between human and Goblin claws were ragged, sharp clumps of hard flesh. His ears and eyes were mismatched and gave him a constant sneer on his face. It would not be so bad if the elf took care of himself but it was like he tried to appear as hideous on the outside as he was on the inside. He couldn't be saved or modified, however you want to put it, might as well try and start again. "Kreacher, I hereby release you from all obligations you have to the Black family, especially the matriarch."
The elf immediately started bawling, this was confusing, after claiming that he did not want anything to do with him, and he was the last Black to be bonded to, why she should he feel sad about not being bonded to the Black family anymore? "I am sorry master Black, please don't send me away, I cannot live without being bonded to a family!" Ah yes, that was why. He screamed and wailed, Sirius let him have a little tantrum before it got too high pitched to stand. He had to wonder why he had not killed the thing yet, but the day was not over, he might still yet.
"Shut up you infernal elf! Am I giving you clothes, no! Let me finish!" He backhanded the elf none too lightly to get him to shut up, the creature was far too noisy, he didn't like listening to him even if he was singing praises about the name Black. Usually he would not have even considered being so hard on the little elf but the jibe about Azkaban had stung more than he would like to admit. "Now you are released from the obligations from the Black family I hereby bond you to me alone." He extended his hand, "you are my personal elf, and you shall answer to me and no one else." He knew the elf was going to behave after that, it was not every day that an elf was given the privilege to be the servant of one wizard alone.
The elf, just as expected stared at him with wide eyes, they started to lose the milky white of crazy hate as the magic bonding them started to weave into their cores. In time he was sure they would start to hold adoration like they were supposed to. Having been released from his mother, Sirius was pleased to note that they were already rapidly starting to lose the glassy complexion of insanity they once held. The elf crept forward and grabbed his hand in both of his bony ones and pressed his forehead to his palm showing his submission and acceptance. He did not really have a choice there though; he had to be bonded so a wizard or a family, it was in their nature.
"Well now that has been taken care of, take the rest of the day off, I shall be leaving as soon as I grab some sleep, tomorrow I want you to clean this house from top to bottom and prepare this room for me, my old room for a very young guest and the playroom that used to belong to Regulus and me, a young child shall be living here soon, bear that in mind." He lay down on the bed, "once that has been done I want you to go and get food, I don't care what you get as long as it is edible and you get a lot of it, you'll be cooking the meals after all. I'll be back tomorrow evening, late, I'll be alone." He turned over and pulled the covers up to his chin and settled down for the first time he'd slept in a bed for fourteen months.
He racked his brain for anything he wanted done for when he returned to this place, "if you can get rid of the painting of that infernal woman move her down to the basement," he ordered. Burning her may be a little extreme, paintings he was sure did not feel pain, but his mother's conscious was in that painting and despite his earlier thoughts he was pretty sure he could not put a torch to her. "If you can't move her don't worry with it, just keep her behind those drapes. That will be all Kreacher, you are dismissed." He disappeared with an obedient pop and a murmur of 'yes master', he smiled, things were still looking up for him.
Sirius woke to sunlight streaming in from his window except it did not shine this brightly in the morning in the beginning of December which meant it was late, maybe almost noon, oh well, at least he was refreshed and he still had plenty of time to do what he wanted. "Kreacher!" The elf appeared just as ordered and was already looking tonnes better, gone was his vacant expression, he looked more like a regular elf now. "Go draw me a bath and then prepare something for me to eat, there's food in my bag." The elf disappeared again with a bow and Sirius went to the wardrobe of his brother to see if the clothes in there were any better than what was in his bag. A load of moths flew out of the wardrobe and he sputtered and cursed at the sight of them.
Only one of the cloaks was in good condition, the rest of them would have to go. He sighed; it would seem he would be wearing Gate Master's clothes again for a while. "The bath is ready Master Black," said a small voice from behind him. "Thank you Kreacher," he muttered absentmindedly. He strolled into the bathroom for another bath; these were, he decided, a God send. Who would have thought one year in Azkaban would send so much to ruin? He had a lot to sort out but sort it out he would. Not now though, right now he was going to relax and let the tension of fourteen months drain away from him, Arnold's bath had been a little cold, cramped and rushed, now this was heaven. He was going to have one of these every day from now on.
As much as he disliked this place it could not be denied that he would always inwardly call it home. As children sometimes fight for the love from a parent who abuses them, he would always feel routes connecting him to here. This was the place he returned to every summer and even the Christmases his mother was away for. He was born and reared, albeit poorly, here, most importantly, this was the place he had his baby brother, the only blood family he gave a damn about. He grew up with Regulus here, ran away to become an honorary Potter at sixteen. No, he may have denied it when he was a child, but he had a responsibility to live up to now, this was his manor now, his, he was the last Black, that made him Lord Black, all this was his, his home and he was going to honour and protect it.
Kreacher had found the signet ring that once belonged to his father, Orion Black, in his parents' old bedroom and brought it to him for now he was the rightful owner. The black jewel did look surprisingly good on his slender fingers; it suited him as it shone his inheritance and social standing. The only thing he was missing from his person was a silver topped cane like the Malfoy his dear cousin married. He felt a little put out by that because it was the only other relative he had he once gave a damn about, but once she stopped being a child she became a bitch, there was no other word for it, he was not going to sugar coat it. To top it off she married a bastard and became a death eater and he decided he hated her, a feeling he soon found was mutual, news of him being a Griffindor disgrace to the Black family apparently spread fast.
"I look like an aristocrat," he muttered to no one in particular as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. Just because he was an aristocrat now did not mean he wanted to become one, because in his experience they were arrogant and thought themselves far too superior. He cast his eyes around his manor, pleased; Kreacher had done an excellent job on the house during the night but he did not say so because he had never been one for compliments or apologies. He put on his black platinum buckled boots, his late father's actually, while Kreacher draped the one good cloak left around his shoulders. The others were far too moth eaten to be of any use, he would have Kreacher throw them out and purchase some new ones. He puffed out his chest and flexed his muscles; he looked impressive, if he said so himself, and dangerous, just a little bit too dark for his liking...
Well, at least he wanted to look dark in this instance, he wanted to frighten, but he did not always want to look like this, he wanted to be claimed innocent eventually and charisma was everything and so that was not going to happen if he looked like the criminal. That was why he was arrested in the first place, Peter was small, skinny, not that good looking, looked like the pitiful victim, slimy rat, while he was powerful, strong, confident, ripped and a temper. The look of distate of that thought written on his face was misinterpreted by the enchanted furniture. "Oh don't fuss, you look fine dear," the mirror he was staring into replied kindly, adjusting his reflection so there was a smile on his face, "there you go dearie, all set."
Sirius stared at the modified reflection, the smile was wrong; it was too kind, too cheery, too forgiving for the purpose of his outing. He tried to copy it anyway because it would just serve to make him look more chilling. Nobody was going to escape his wrath and he felt sorry for them, because he knew how angry he was and how he was going to enact his vengeance, it was a war, blood was going to be spilt. He did not want to kill anyone, not anyone he was seeing today anyway, their crimes did not quite call for that. There was a darkness inside him that was not there fifteen months previous, and it was a darkness that called for destruction to pay for the crimes that created it. That darkness was going to be poured over those who had forsaken him, but it was a darkness they created, they had no one else to blame.
He blinked and his reflection winked back at him playfully. His reflection looked so normal, like a normal young man with a normal life, one where his jokey side still had dominance but he was so much more than a man now. He was bitter and angry and in touch with his core and very, very powerful. He was a dog animagus and ready to let the animalistic predator take control and feast on the blood it wanted, he was not one to deny such a reasonable request. No, he certainly did not feel like a man, not after all the trials he'd been through, but maybe once all of this was over he could play pretend that he was like the games he played with Regulus as a child, and a candle would flicker in the darkness that was inside him, alleviating it.
He drew himself up to his full height and ran a hand through his hair, things were not going to be easy from here on out, this could take years damn it. But he would prevail, he had to, he had to make the world a better place for Harry to grow up in. He did not want the only family he had left to grow up surrounded by death eaters and a corrupt ministry. He'd done his part by weakening the Dark Lord as his followers called him; it was now up to everyone else to vanquish him. He had to start by crumbling his empire, one cannot call themselves a king if they had no remaining kingdom, that meant finding out all of his headquarters and demolishing them and then killing or arresting all the death eaters he knew about.
Then came the political side, a lot of death eaters pulled strings in the ministry and that is what was so troubling. What made it worse was that Fudge knew this; it was common knowledge that death eaters were working alongside him but there is very little 1000,000 galleons won't solve. The ministry had always been rather corrupt but it had not really bothered him that much before because it did not affect him. But now, the people he loved and trusted had locked him away because he filled the holes he was someone to catch and blame for the deaths and the public could be rest at ease and hate someone but feel protected. The real death eaters opened their vaults and got away with it but he had not had enough live family members to stick up for him and pull the strings of the ministry to get him off or even get him a trial.
But they made a terrible mistake, he broke out and now he was angry and bitter and powerful and ready, more than ready to enact revenge. It was not just the death eaters who were going to pay, the people he once called friends were going to pay as well, they would learn what it means to forsake a Black. The ministry would be in shambles by the time he was finished with it, and Fudge would be a pauper, stripped of all of his rights. The mirror seemed to sense he was a lost cause and showed him his true reflection instead. The smile was almost as crazy and malicious as the one he sported when he was plotting in his cell. Yes, this one suited him so much better, this was who he had become and he liked it.
"Kreacher, I need you to apparate me to Hogwarts grounds." Elves were the only ones who could go around barriers such as the ones surrounding the school. That was going to have to be his first stop to get back what was rightfully his.
Kreacher stared at him, "are you sure Master?"
It was almost sweet how he was worried, almost; he was using that word a lot. "I'm sure. After all, I'm not going to be speaking to Dumbledore or any of the staff for that matter, it is too risky, I'm not sure I will be able to hold my own against them. My disappearance must have been kept awfully quiet, I have not heard a peep out of the Daily Prophet or a word in the muggle world, maybe they are covering it up. Still, it is time the world knew that Sirius Black is ready and out for vengeance. My squabble today is with Hagrid alone, I can handle one half giant by myself Kreacher."
With a small pop, Kreacher deposited him on the grounds of the school just outside Hagrid's hut. He hopped from foot to foot, nervous about leaving him there. "Will you be wanting anything else master?" He asked hopefully, he was worried, how incredibly... loyal of him. Of course, because he was his personal elf now and not just tied to the household he wanted to come along and be wherever he was. Well that was not going to be possible, while he would not be hindrance, house elves never were, and he would still appear intimidating, he was used to being a lone wolf, and when he gained pack members this time he was going to be absolutely sure of them, he could not handle forming another pack he could not trust, besides, spells were sure to be fired and he wanted Kreacher to be safe.
A cold smile froze on his face as he strode over to Hagrid's hut; he wanted this over and done with so he could be out of here as quickly as possible, less risk that way. "No thank you Kreacher," he said, remembering the elf was still there, "that will be all for now. Go back to the house and prepare it like I asked, oh, and get some clothes for me when you get food. I shall be back this evening, late, please have a meal ready," it never hurt to be cordial. He watched the little elf disappear and then with a cocky assuredness in his actions and power he rapped four times on the heavy wooden door. Right here on the grounds of Hogwarts outside Hagrid's hut was where his revolution was going to begin and it would not end until he was on top of the world.
He'd always liked Hagrid and his cosy hut, it had not changed a bit and its familiarity was comforting. It also had this 'homely' appeal which he'd never felt when growing up, not even when he lived with James or at Hogwarts. He got no answer so he knocked again; glad his hut was so near the forest, even though it was early afternoon, no one was about, in classes probably. "I'm coming, I'm coming," came the deep rumble from inside, now that was more like it. The room was crossed in four strides before the heavy door was flung open to reveal what looked to be a hung-over ogre. Hagrid blinked a few times before his large brown eyes which were slightly bloodshot focused on him. He was understandably shocked into silence and stillness, staring at his once friend whom he believed (with no difficulty or doubt) to be a dirty, dangerous traitor.
Sirius waited for the giant's brain to kick in and sure enough a couple of seconds later he leapt at Sirius, arms aiming for his throat. He was fast given his size, and his half intoxicated state, which was unusual, but Sirius was faster and he held up his hand in a halt motion. Sure enough, Hagrid froze midstride, hands outstretched, a couple of mere centimetres from his face, it was an amusing pose. There was hesitation in his voice or actions, that meant Hagrid was just as guilty as the rest of this so called friends and allies. They were all going to pay eventually, in varying degrees, Hagrid just happened to be first because he had once helped the man and that help was to be taken back. For now, the loveable half giant was no friend of his.
"Now, now Hagrid," he said in a mock reprimanding tone as he took an exaggerated step back from the outstretched hands aiming for his throat, not the least bit fazed by his own power. He had grown powerful in Azkaban and in the couple of months spent at Arnold's and his own house. A year and a half had passed since he was arrested now and he felt as if nothing could stand in his way. He watched the furious eyes dart after him. He walked forward and started to look around his hut like he used to when he visited as a student and as a friend, yes, it was the same as always. He turned back to face him. "I must have missed a lot while I was gone, is this how you greet people nowadays or are you just glad to see me?"