Sirius Black scowled heavily, finding himself in a dark alley. Of course, he was able to change back into his human form, and get a bit of food. That didn't stop his dismay at Hermione's second letter. It seems she had found some muggle investigators to help, and seemed very confident in their expertise and efforts. He sighed, thinking. If you had any scruff, you'd be doing this yourself. Harry needs you. Especially with Wormtail free. That settled it. He stood up, turning into Padfoot and leaving through the mouth of the alley.
He smelled around, tentatively. It was rather late in the evening, but it was still London. People would be out and about, but possibly only on the main roads. Side roads it was, then.
Luckily, (or perhaps unluckily), he was close to his final destination. Even as a dog, he could feel his tension, for his hackles were raised. His parents' home, Grimmauld Place, wasn't far. He had no idea the state it would be in, and found he wasn't looking forward to the reunion. He vaguely wondered if Kreacher, the old houself would be lurking somewhere.
He wouldn't have long to muse, he supposed, for he recognized the neighborhood he padded into. A couple walking his way gave him a wide berth, and Sirius realized he was baring his teeth. He gave a huff and crossed the road, coming to stand in front of numbers 11 and 13. He blinked, and his animal eyes found distortion around the edges of both buildings. He felt satisfaction. Ah, muggle repelling charms. And… Family magic… Bollocks, hopefully I'll be able to get in.
He backtracked, heading down the alley to the right. He went past a few gates, finding small courtyards and back patios. He finally stopped in front of number 12's gates, or where they should have been, and looked about him. No one. And I'm sure that grandfather or mother would have fixed it for only human form to enter. If I can enter at all.
He shifted back to his human form, stumbling a bit at the change. He scowled at his unsteady feet, then looked up to where the great house should be appearing. Sirius's heart leapt, for the air was shimmering, and he felt something in his body. His chest felt light, but his stomach churned. That'll be the family magic, I suppose. Allowing me to enter, but disgusting to boot. He looked around him again, and walked forward, finally able to see the gate into the shabby courtyard. Once he entered, the gate clanked shut with a sharp creak, ominously behind him.
He cautiously walked forward, stepping through the overgrown grass and jumping over one overgrown hedge. He finally made it to the parlor door, and wrenched it open. Thankfully, the family magic granted him access, as he still didn't have his wand, or any wand. He brushed off his shoulders absentmindedly, looking at the bleak room. The parlor had once been a grand room that Mother had entertained in, the cream and forest green colors had faded on the wall, and now looked a sickly yellow and nearly black. Spiderwebs coated many of the corners, and dust was so thick, Sirius thought he could ice a cake with it.
Sirius moved out of the parlor, going to the kitchen. He thought, if Kreacher were still alive, that would be where he found the poor elf. He entered quietly, unsurprised to find it dark. He scowled, thinking a lumos maxima could be uttered, and still not enough light would be put in this place, when suddenly the room was lit up. He nodded in satisfaction, walking around the long table in the middle of the room. Of course, the table was only used for family meetings, guests usually used the dining room on the next floor. Sirius remembered scorching both tables, during more than one dinner where his parents and family said hateful things.
At the opposite of the room, was a closet, that held the broiler. Sirius opened the closet slowly, knowing Kreacher used to be a bit jumpy. He wasn't disappointed when there was a great yell, and Kreacher surged forward, pointing a fork at Sirius's chest. Sirius held his hands up, flinching away for a moment, before standing tall, glaring. "Kreacher! Stop!" He said with great force. The house elf froze, and then glared at Sirius. He seemed unable to speak as well, which Sirius took comfort in, because he was sure the words 'blood traitor' would have been uttered.
"Right, Kreacher." He paused, unsure of how he wanted to proceed. He thought of the library and study a few floors above. And his room, with his wonderful bed. "Kreacher!" He was about to order, but then his grandfather Arcturus's words rang in his ears. 'It is not how a man treats his equals, but how he treats his inferiors that measures his character.' "Kreacher," He said again, trying for a softer voice, "I need you to please make this house livable. Start with the study and library, and my bedroom. I will need you to rearrange the bathrooms, so that it is an en suite. Do not take anything from any of the rooms, as they may be dangerous. We can decide on some things for you to keep, if you so desire. Once my bedroom is ready, please bring me something small to eat. I'll need to rest before I start my work tomorrow. Do not contact anyone from the family in regards to me being master of this house, nor my whereabouts. The time will come for us to contact the family, but not yet. You may go start your work."
Kreacher gave a slightly anguished look, then disappeared with a pop, so that he may start cleaning. Sirius sighed, then went over to the fireplace a few paces away and braced his hands against it. He took no pleasure being back in this house, and certainly did not wish to be its master. But he also knew that if he were to help Harry and if he were to clear his name, he would need the Ancient and Noble house of Black, and any power he could wield from it. He'd been trained in etiquette and family laws by his grandfather, but before he could become heir, pledged and sworn, he had run away. When he was kid, he'd thought, good riddance, but now it could have been an advantage. He didn't think he could easily relearn all of it, and he felt he would need a confidant, so that he wouldn't go mad in this place. The place of his tormented youth.
With a sigh, he pushed away from the mantle, and reaching for the scrolls of parchment upon it, along with a quill and inkpot. He sat at the table, gingerly placing the parchment and inkpot down, and dipped his quill into the ink, beginning his letter.
Dear Moony,
I know I sent you a letter telling you that I was heading South, but a few things have changed, and I am staying in my old stomping grounds. I should like you to come and stay with me, if you've nothing better to do. I know that we have a little bit before we are the bosom buddies we once were, but I think I will truly go mad if I am to stay here alone. And I know that a warm meal won't go amiss for you either.
Dear friend, I am sorry for any pain I may have caused you, and I am sorry that you were alone for those many years. I hope to someday remedy the wrongs I have caused you.
The things that have changed are sensitive, although I know you are an informed wizard, so they may not come as a shock to you. If you wish to discuss them more at length, you may find me, and be welcomed at
Number 12, Grimmauld Place, London.
Please know that as soon as you have read and memorized the contents, this parchment will destruct.
Your friend,
Padfoot.X
He signed his name with a flourish and then stood looking around. Oh, yes. No wand, idiot. He sighed, "Kreacher." He said. A pop, and the house elf reappeared.
"You called, master Black?" Kreacher bowed, and took a breath. Sirius cut him off from the future insults he was sure were coming.
"I need a wand please, Kreacher. My grandfather's if you can. If not, whatever you can find from our deceased relations." He paused. "I suppose I need an owl too, but please be discreet." Kreacher bowed low.
"As the master wishes. Hot sandwiches and broth will be waiting in master's chambers. It is cleaned and arranged as master asked." With that Kreacher popped away, and Sirius nodded, heading up the stairs.
When he made it to the fourth landing, he was slightly out of breath, and was annoyed. He stopped and stared for a moment, catching his breath, gazing at his brother's old room. R.A.B was scrawled upon the door, and Sirius smiled at the memory of his younger brother trying to keep his wand straight for perfect letters. He would have to visit his brother's room in the next couple of days, and see if there was anything interesting. After all, Regulus wasn't returning for anything. With a sigh at the thought, Sirius turned towards his room. Everything was just the same, minus the old dust, and a new door, at the opposite wall, leading to his new bathroom. The plate of hot ham sandwiches and cup of creamy broth was sitting on his old desk, along with a purple potion. Ah, nutrition potion. He remembered, from the days his mother had forced them down his and Regulus's throat. He drank it first, recalling the disgusting taste, and then nibbled upon a sandwich.
He inspected his bathroom and was pleased to see a great clawfoot bath waiting for him. He almost moaned at the sight. A proper wash… I could soak for hours. I probably will. He turned away from the loo and back to his bed. The new bed clothes were properly laundered, and when he ran his hand on the top, he found them to be so soft he thought it might be silk. He swallowed his sandwich heavily and found his eyes were prickling with tears. Thank gods. He thought. He turned away again, and went to his desk, reaching for the cup of broth. As he drank it down, he looked up past his desk to find an old cork board. It held dozens, maybe even forty photos of him, James, Remus, Lily, Peter, and even Regulus, Andromeda, Bellatrix, and Narcissa. His eyes drank in all the laughing and smiling faces.
He didn't know how long he stood there, staring at the photos, but he started when there was another pop, announcing Kreacher's arrival. A soft hoot was heard, as a black owl flew to the top of his wardrobe when released. Kreacher gave a deep bow, and held out the thin and black wand. Sirius thanked him and dismissed him. A second pop, and the elf was gone, leaving Sirius alone again.
He charmed the parchment, then rolled it tightly, before securing it to the owl's leg. He did have to coax her down, but eventually, she gave in, especially when he gave her a bit of ham. He murmured instructions to her, and then went to his window, throwing it open wide. He released her, watching her for a time fly away into the dawn. With another breath, he turned around, facing his bed. As he peeled off the Azkaban garments, he felt the tears really fall. Away with this skin. Take it off. Tomorrow is a new day.
Once he was stripped of the stripes and dirt, he fell into the bed, pulling covers upon him. More tears did come, but it didn't take long and sleep overcame him, relieving his weary body and mind.
