OliveB Thank you for the review. It makes me really happy that you still appreciate my story ;-))
Here goes the next instalment looking for readers.
Chapter 9
Family Business
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Where Sirius is again owned by his family
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Sirius Black stood determined in front of a line of beautiful old fashioned Muggle houses in London, wand at ready.
The place looked well maintained compared to the last time he had seen it, some seventy years in the future. Two houses moved lazily apart revealing the familiar shape of the Black family residence on Number 12 Grimmauld Place, looming ominously among its somewhat less impressive, but also far less gloomy non-magical neighbours. More gentle than ever before, the last of the Blacks pressed the snake-shaped door handle and entered carefully, not to disturb the foreboding silence.
In the hall he repelled a Bogart, a colony of Pixies and one much nastier dark creature, which tried to bite his leg off, that he didn't even recognize. At least his mother's portrait was not hanging on the wall because she had yet to be born. Grateful for meeting only magical creatures for a start, Sirius wondered about the best way to fight off his living ancestors once he would unavoidably meet them as well.
Grandfather Arcturus was most probably the head of the family at that time as great-grandfather Sirius turned mad before the age of 40. Just like I almost did, Sirius thought angrily, wondering if he was finally going to follow his namesake on the path to insanity and finish his days as an anonymous patient in St Mungos institute for magical illnesses in the early 20th century. He swallowed remembering the pleasant character of grandfather Arcturus – Sirius was sure that he would kill the intruder in the family house on the spot and ask questions later.
He silently climbed the stairs towards the main living area with all intention to surprise his relatives, duel them into submission and lock them up in a broom cupboard. The next step would be to steal the relevant parts of the family library and hide somewhere safe as Padfoot to read through them. James never learned how to read in his Animagus form and Sirius was glad he could do it, even if unrolling parchments and opening pages with front paws was a daunting task.
The plan was pure adrenaline and Dumbledore would criticise him for it, no doubt, but that would be the Dumbledore from the future. The young man he had seen a few days ago seemed at least as reckless as Sirius always was and had been, if not more.
Sirius should have known that simple plans would never work against the Black family. If nothing else, the fact that he had been killed by his own cousin should have taught him not to underestimate them. He jumped aside immediately after opening the living room door, dodging the killing curse sent his way, probably by grandfather Arcturus, who otherwise seemed to be enjoying having his tea with his pregnant wife.
My aunt, Sirius thought, she will give life to aunt Lucretia in a few months. Sirius's grandmother, Melania Black born McMillan, died of dragonpox long before Sirius was born.
One hour later the room looked like a battlefield with broken glassware and ruined family heirlooms scattered here and there. Sirius thanked his dog reflexes for successfully escaping another deadly curse when he yelled Expelliarmus and finally disarmed his grandfather. Drenched in stinky sweat he made sure that both grandparents were properly tied and gagged in the corner, wands safely away and enchanted against summoning, while Sirius went searching for the nearest broom cupboard.
It felt reassuring to be in control of one's family.
Sirius walked on tiptoes, bent on avoiding Kreacher at all costs. He was afraid of the Elf's magic more than that of his family, and quite unwilling to test the hypothesis that he was Kreacher's Master as much as Arcturus was, even if out of time, so Kreacher theoretically should not be able to hurt him.
The stairs to the attic suddenly drew his attention. He remembered seeking shelter among the cobwebs and discarded dark objects as a child, lost between items thought of as having no further meaning, banished from the family collection. They were all as abandoned as a lonely black-haired boy wandering among them, eager to make new discoveries. Some of them caused him rashes and burns if he ventured into exploring them, but they were still much friendlier to him than any living member of his closest family.
No harm can come from taking a look, he thought. Had there been any other relatives around, they would have cursed him by now and Kreacher could be heard making noises in the kitchen, all the way down in the basement, and as far away from the attic as possible.
Constant vigilance, he told himself ironically several seconds later, when he was hanging upside down from the ceiling beams, wrapped in bandages like a mummy, and most unsure about what had happened to him. From the angle in which he was hanging, he could discern a pair of legs in elegant black velvet trousers. He painfully pushed his head forward, trying to look up and see to whom the legs belonged.
He discerned a pair of old aristocratic hands with manicured nails holding two wands. High above was a face of a rather old man with typical Black angular features. There were almost no grey hairs in his dark mane, flanking a face with pointed beard and narrow expressionless blue eyes. Sirius realized that the man's eyes were supposed to be sharp of expression and brown in colour in the portraits Sirius had seen. The unnaturally calm, pale blue gaze had a much more sinister cause than the Black genes which left a touch of clear mountain spring water colour in the eyes of Sirius, Bellatrix and so many others.
The old man was blind.
Those eyes should have been brown, like Regulus's eyes, my dead brother's eyes. The eyes above him were dead in life. So pale and so expressionless.
At that moment Sirius shivered and knew without any doubt who the old man was. Feeling the dark magic bonds strangulating him like invisible anacondas, he managed to squeeze out,
"Great-great-grandfather…"
Choking stopped but the grip of bandages didn't get any less tight.
"And who would you be?" said the old man in a righteous rage. "I smelled you coming since you crossed the doorstep! Well I guess that disarming my grandson and his silly wife should not have proven too difficult for a competent wizard..."
Sirius fought for air as the bonds tightened. Mind desperately searching for an argument that would set him free from a deadly embrace, he blurted, "I'm a Black! You wouldn't kill the Black heir, would you?"
"Heir?" the grip on Sirius felt uncertain. "My heir is an idiot gagged downstairs and I don't have any grandchildren."
"Not yet, great-great-grandfather, that's the keyword in this case. If you could see me, you'd know. Your name is Phineas Nigellus and you were the most hated Headmaster of Hogwarts. Your firstborn son is called Sirius and your grandson Arcturus. He will have a son called Orion. Orion will have a son called Sirius Orion. Me. I'm your great-great-grandson. You've never seen me because you died in 1925," Sirius repented on the last sentence as it inadvertently left his mouth, realising it may have not been the brightest idea to break to Phineas Nigellus the news of his imminent death.
"Anyone knows who I am and how my son and grandson are called. It will take more than that to convince me that you are telling the truth," said the blind man, disdainfully.
Sirius thanked Merlin for the unwilling lessons in family genealogy he received as a child and proceeded with listing all ancestors of Phineas Nigellus as far as he knew into the past in a most neutral tone he could muster, keeping the rage still boiling inside him at bay. The bile in his throat was threatening to drown him, ever since the Veil engulfed Ariana and swallowed her like a fancy desert on a Yule feast. After covering a few centuries of ancestors, causing no reaction at all in the old man, Sirius grew very weary. It was time to set the pride aside.
So first he paused, and then he begged, as humbly as he could, "Please, great-great-grandfather, I need your help!"
"And why would you be asking for my help after your intrusion in here?"
"Because against my own personal wishes in that matter, I am a Black," Sirius spoke with difficulty. "Moreover, I am the last living male Black, which should normally mean something to the pure-blooded maniac like you. If it doesn't, you can kill me anyway. It would be the second time that a family member kills me for being who I am. But since you defeated me, you might be the only one of my other living relatives intelligent enough to help me."
The old man said flatly, "I wish my son Sirius had the same amount of Black temper as you have, young man."
"Then you believe me?"
"I knew you were a Black ever since you opened the attic door. You stepped over the Doxy-infested door mat in front of it. Only family and Kreacher would spontaneously avoid such traps in this house," the old man explained with some mirth in his voice. "But I still have many questions."
"I will answer all your questions if you keep my being here a secret from the rest of the family," Sirius decided to use the window of opportunity presented by his ancestor's moment of doubt. "I offer myself to be used as a test subject for the experiments in dark magic you are most probably conducting if the family legends are true. But only if you help me in exchange."
"Would you trust me to help you, if I accepted your terms?" Phineas Nigellus Black asked, his cold voice betraying great curiosity.
"No, but I don't have a choice."
Phineas Nigellus grinned and released Sirius from the mortal hold. "We have a deal. Tell me what you want."
With a sore head from falling right on top of it, Sirius considered that, while trust was never to be given lightly to any member of the Black family, he would have to work with the old man: "I need to return to the future. To the year 1996, where I come from. I have to find someone there."
Sirius carefully skipped any mention of his other equally important project to help murder Lord Voldemort and all his pure-blooded followers, which included several Black family members.
"How sweet!" Phineas Nigellus snorted in contempt. "Now tell me the real reason."
"Why, of course, to exterminate all arrogant silly pure-bloods including myself and make the wizarding world a better place!" Sirius barked, remembering painfully all over again one of his first conversations with Ariana when she asked him, in all innocence, if he was a wizard. "That is the only cause I would live for if I had never met Ariana Dumbledore…"
"You met Percival's daughter? I heard they were keeping her locked up somewhere," Phineas Nigellus tugged his beard looking more and more uncertain about how to treat his unexpected guest. "The Dumbledore family has grown very peculiar since Percival and Kendra died. Fishy, a wizard could say. And then the society gossips about us the Blacks who are not half as unusual…"
"I don't care about the other Dumbledores!" Sirius yelled back, bluntly.
"Percival was an old friend of mine. I will pretend that I didn't hear what you just said and I will help you for his sake," the old man finally said, as if that was the end of a discussion which never occurred to start with. The former Headmaster of Hogwarts must have been used to have the last word in everything.
Sirius pondered what pretending could mean while Phineas went to the back of the attic and returned with a very old but impeccably preserved scroll of parchment entitled "Illegal and Untested Transportation Devices for Witch and Wizard, Bouncing Through Space and Time: Enchanted Animals, Crystal Time Bubbles, Veils of Death and many more."
"This work may be of interest to you. However, before we proceed, you have to do me a favour. I am due to appear at the ball this evening, in Malfoy Manor, offered by my young friend Abraxas. Since Arcturus is indisposed to accompany me, you could take his place. I hope that you look similar enough that we don't have to borrow Polyjuice Potion for the occasion."
"No worries there," Sirius chuckled. "We all look alike. I'll just borrow his robes for tonight and you have to fill me in a little bit on how he would normally behave. I've known him as a nasty old man but I have no idea how he was in his youth."
"Well, there is this catch," Phineas continued, somewhat abashed, "Arcturus is a natural charmer."
Sirius grinned and commented wickedly, "My charming ability is a bit rusty, but I think I can manage"
"I need you to dance with and keep occupied at all times a particularly ugly and evil young girl of high society, so that she doesn't pester me while I'm concluding a business arrangement with Abraxas... One that could be also beneficial for your plans, but I cannot tell you more at this stage... The young lady in question believes that I am a dotard, a weak-minded, ancient pure-blood who would marry her for her youth and give her the social prestige she is so badly lacking. I am sure she would poison me if I was stupid enough to marry her, and she persecutes me mercilessly at every social occasion. "
"That doesn't seem too difficult," Sirius was pleased with the task which seemed almost too easy for a wizard with his reputation among witches... There had to be a catch. "What's the lady's name?"
"Dolores Jane Umbridge."
"I'll take that back. I'd rather go out with cousin Bella!" Sirius turned quite loud expressing his rather sudden change of heart in earnest.
"Who's that?
"Never mind. You wouldn't know. A pearl of the Black family some time from now," Sirius felt slightly sick at the thought of his would-be murderer.
"Umbridge, Sirius. Can you do it?
"I believe so," Sirius said, resigned to his fate.
"Good."
"But I want something in return first," Sirius added rapidly. Phineas raised an eyebrow within the European Committee as his great-great-grandson formulated his demand, "Tell me what you know about Ariana and her family!"
"Why should I? You said yourself you didn't care about the Dumbledores..." Phineas Nigellus replied with contempt, or as though he were bored to the extreme. Yet his empty eyes narrowed dangerously in complete contradiction with his voice.
"You want a deal with Malfoy? Start talking. Otherwise the deal is off," Sirius said in the coldest and most disdainful manner of speaking he was able to learn from his father. He hated using that particular tone with all his heart, but he knew it was necessary.
Phineas Nigellus sighed and turned away, "Right..."
After a long pause in which both men seemed undecided on how to proceed, the old man slowly took a seat at his large desk, a rock of solid wood under enchanted flying model of the starry skies above the northern Earth hemisphere, which he must have been studying before Sirius interrupted him.
"It's not a nice story, Sirius," he finally said.
The stars made tender metallic noises following their trajectory, a sea of sounds acting as the eyes of the old man. Sirius took this as a sign to seat opposite to Phineas, feigning respect, with the usual sickening feeling of being the endangered species in the family stuck inconveniently somewhere in his lungs. Yet he did his best to utter what he hoped to be an encouraging grunt, overwhelmed with patience very uncharacteristic for Sirius, as he waited for the whole story about Ariana to come to the light of the day, or more precisely, to the dimness of the attic.
The last glow of the afternoon sun crept secretly through the small window, in fear of two men contemplating each other as mortal enemies.
"Percival was a powerful and admired wizard, famous for collecting and exploring ancient magic artifacts. He was well over fifty when he started a family, it's hard to know exactly how old. They live tremendously long, most of these Dumbledores... unless they succumb to causes which are not natural. They don't keep the family tree and they never tell you their real age," Phineas chatted on, appearing indifferent to the subject, as if he were discussing the latest advances in Herbology.
"And so it happened that Percival married a Muggle born, an excellent woman, called Kendra, and they had three beautiful children, two sons Albus and Aberforth, and a daughter called Ariana. Their life was like a fairytale, they were a model magical family. Until one day three Muggle boys attacked Ariana while she was playing outside her house next to the river. She was seven years old... What they did to her... Right, how to say it, she got really hurt... She was... She was tortured and dishonoured, never to be married..."
Sirius disagreed strongly with the last statement, knowing better. I dishonoured you, Ariana, if the most natural act to occur between a witch and a wizard who are fond of each other can be called that way...
Silence wasn't easy for a man like Sirius, but he did keep his mouth shut because he didn't want Phineas to stop telling the story. After all, he was seventy years in the past and even in his time some wizards had very strange opinions about sex before marriage. Sirius could only start imagining how far the decent wizarding society would go in despising a supposedly dishonoured witch in 1925. The prejudice must have been much stronger in that time, especially among pure-blooded families.
"But that was not the worst of it... They broke something in her being, turned her into a hollow shell, incapable to use magic, yet she was not quite a Squib... She became dangerous, totally dependent on her family to take care of her not to cause harm. She never went to Hogwarts, never received her letter," Phineas expression darkened as he spoke, almost as if he cared for Ariana.
Definitely not a trait wizarding history would remember him for, thought Sirius, keeping his views wisely for himself.
"Percival believed she could have been even more talented than Albus," the old wizard's voice was now lined with the emotion Sirius knew well, implacable hatred, but towards what, Sirius could not tell.
Phineas continued the tale forcing his voice into the usual aloofness. His moment of weakness, if that was what it was, passed. "Percival liked Muggles, he was nothing like Arcturus, nothing like I am. He admired them. He wrote a book about magical Muggle artifacts after an extensive study of several items with magical properties, labelled "miracles" by the Muggles. He even explored further and made theories about this rather bizarre term, claiming it had validity even from a wizarding point of view..."
As one stating a simple truth the old man concluded, "There are no miracles, Sirius. There are only magical occurrences that Muggles cannot explain."
"Lesson number one in Muggle studies in Hogwarts, in my time", Sirius said, trying to sound serious. Agreeing with Phineas on an innocuous truth could be helpful.
"I am glad to see that they haven't changed my curriculum in all that time," Phineas was proud. "Be as it may, old Percival wouldn't hurt a fly. Despite his great magical prowess, he had never used an Unforgivable curse in his life until the day that changed everything for his family."
"A few months after Ariana had been attacked and when it became obvious that the best healers could not help her, Percival lost it. He went after the Muggles and turned them into bags of blood and bones not to be recognised by their nearest kin."
"They were young boys, not yet of age, the oldest one was 16 years old."
"Percival died soon after that."
At that point of the story Sirius had to grip the chair to remain calm, regretting he asked for it, yet unable to rein in his desire to absorb everything there was to learn concerning Ariana.
"And there is still more. Seven years later, when Ariana was fourteen years old, there was an explosion in the Dumbledores' house in Godric's Hollow. Kendra died in the incident and the oldest brother, Albus, who had just graduated from Hogwarts, got custody of Ariana. Gossip soon spread that she had killed her mother, so poor Albus had no choice but to commit her to some kind of mental institution."
Phineas' hands gripped both wands and for a moment Sirius thought that the story would come to an abrupt end, and an Unforgivable curse would be carelessly thrown his way. The effort of the old wizard to calm down was excruciating, requiring the force of will of the highest magnitude when he finally set the wands on the desk, one next to another, and continued his story.
"Trust me, Sirius, Albus was not a good boy, powerful like his father, yes, but with a heart as black as my own. Albus had this friend, no one knows where he found him, but I do not believe he's British, this healer, this charlatan called Greenywald– "
"-Grindelwald!" Sirius interrupted.
"Whatever! The man reeks of Dark Magic or I am not a Black. More importantly, Ariana disappeared a year after her mother's death and the family held a funeral marked with a scandal of Albus and Aberforth physically attacking each other during the service. And I'd bet my fortune, even without hearing your story of how you met her, that she's still alive because no one saw the body. I'd say that Albus and his little foreign friend locked Ariana up, completely away from the world. But no one knows what happened for sure. And no one has heard of Ariana for twelve years."
Immense sadness crept into Sirius like a many-legged monster, pressuring his soul to surrender and fall apart. He realised Ariana's life was worse than his. Sirius may have lost everything when they sent him to Azkaban but she, she had never even had a life. Having seen how Gellert treated Ariana, Sirius doubted that the abuse ended after the Muggle episode of her early childhood.
"I told you it wasn't a nice story," whispered Phineas, sounding just like Sirius felt.
"She asked me if I knew you because we looked similar," Sirius whispered back, a strange complicity filling the space between the two men, occupied until then exclusively by hatred.
"Did she, now?" Phineas Nigellus gave a sad smile. "I'd see her sometimes when I was visiting Percival. She was the brightest little girl you can imagine ... I never knew that she remembered me in any form, the old ugly gentleman annoying her father... "
If Kreacher or Arcturus had come to the attic at that moment they could have easily defeated the two wizards there without any magic, both of them immersed too deeply in the sea of their own sorrows. And Sirius forgot for a second that he could not, not even for one moment, trust Phineas Nigellus Black.
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Unlike Grimmauld Place, the Malfoy Manor has not changed at all, Sirius thought without emotion. He must have been fifteen the last time he attended a ball over there with his parents, stuck in fancy dress robes like a trapped animal, only some months before he would run away from home. Sirius loathed every single ball with the intensity he reserved only for his closest family.
Yet, when he stepped into the main ballroom, helping Phineas Nigellus to find his way, Sirius was strangely affected. Many-candled crystal chandeliers underlined the white and golden brilliance of the place, bathing in light the fragile paintings of clouds and winged beings on the ceiling. White sculpted stucco decorations in form of magical creatures, centaurs, unicorns, dragons and many more, lurked from the walls at the incoming guests. Old fashioned parquet cracked in golden sparks under their feet and delicate antique chairs next to several elegantly rounded tables invited them to rest in the corners.
Ariana would find this beautiful, Sirius thought, any girl would, he mused.
Ornate windows, fabricated with old colourful hand-made glass, reflected the candlelight and projected scintillating works of abstract art on the walls. Night breeze permeated the old loosely attached glass fragments on many of the windows, but the giggling dancing couples didn't seem to mind or even notice the cold.
Malfoy Manor had an innocent look, not dark in any sense. Arrogant and careless, yes, but certainly not evil, not yet. Sirius accompanied his great-great-grandfather to the drawing room where the old Black would wait until Abraxas Malfoy finished welcoming all his guests and would be free to deal with other matters.
Dolores Umbridge noticed Sirius crossing the ballroom on the way back and immediately stalked him. He offered her his arm, with a lump in his throat, appreciating how at the age of approximately fifteen she was already as ugly as her older version he had seen terrorising Hogwarts as High Inquisitor and impostor Headmistress, when she must have been well over eighty years old.
"Arcturus, I am so pleased to see you! I was hoping to say good evening to your grandfather. Most charming gentlewizard and so intelligent despite his disability..." she went on and on, clutching his hand and pulling him towards the dancing floor with stubby fingers, eyes bulging. The horrid pink dress she wore, resembling a fluffy wall paper, and a matching white-pink purse that looked like it could have been made out of cat's skin, made Sirius queasy. Half of his mind simply ignored Umbridge's existence and just kept on answering her constant "Hem, hem" with a ready if somewhat shorter "Hum, hum". Another half of his mind desperately wished to hold a hand of Ariana Dumbledore.
Since his talk to Phineas Nigellus, his grief for losing her sank somewhere deep. Only positive memories swam forward from the bottom of his mind. Merlin, even if he had lost her forever, he was so happy that the Veil brought him to her of all places, the way she looked at him, the way they cuddled, the way they... Sirius's ears warmed up and he was grateful that his hair had grown again in his latest captivity in case they turned red as well. The daydream was cut short because Umbridge was pushing harder to drag him to the dance floor between offensive comments on half-breeds and magical creatures.
The ballroom is perfect, Sirius thought, as he imagined taking Ariana by the hand and presenting her to all the guests before taking her in his arms for a proper waltz.
He found himself sipping a glass of wine with Umbridge in front of a large mirror. In the looking glass, a foreigner stared back at him wearing ornate dark purple dress robes. The wizard in the looking glass was strong, healthy and tanned. His long hair was shining. He was not a colourless gaunt creature persecuted by inner demons and alcohol whiffs, that would leer at Sirius from all mirrors in his home prison before his encounter with the Veil.
Arcturus will gain new popularity after tonight, Sirius thought cynically, trying to suppress his feeling of guilt over being alive and even looking his part again, when so many good people had died. Stop it, he told himself, focus on the task at hand and you'll be going where you have to be in no time.
He bowed and kissed Umbridge's hand, finally assuming his role, offering her his arm for a dance. The orchestra was playing some sickeningly sweet tune but soon changed to a proper Vienna waltz, the favourite dance of Sirius the child, who adored the vertiginous feeling it would bring. The music was way too fast for Umbridge who was stepping on his feet, until his imagination was no longer enough to tolerate her presence. Her stinking perfume was so close, her poisonous being interfered and spoiled his daydreaming about the happy days in the small house above the sea.
Out of boredom and annoyance, as so many times before, Sirius reverted to Marauders' techniques for dealing with unpleasant situations.
First he cast a Silencing Charm to stop Umbridge from talking. Then he transfigured her face to look like Ariana's with a touch of a mild Concealment Charm so that other guests would not notice it. The charm was not perfect. It could never be with Umbridge being so much shorter than Sirius, but it was the best he could do to survive the evening. The awful girl also protected him from having to talk to other guests and betray his total lack of acquaintance with any of them.
In the middle of the dance Sirius's mind became first dizzy and then blank. What's going on? he thought. I only had a single glass of wine.
Sirius saw a dim-lit pub, with two hooded figures at the counter. A closer look revealed cousin Bella and cousin-in-law Lucius. Both looked battered, drinking Muggle whisky in Muggle clothing. He heard soft jazz music coming from a stage in the middle, featuring an angular-faced female piano player that looked vaguely like Bella, a few years younger maybe, much more plain, less aristocratic and devoid of any malice, curse, or trace of insanity.
On one of the tables in the front row near the stage, there was a bloke with greasy lank black hair drinking and cheering, legs on the table. Merlin, could it be Snivellus? And on his elongated shoulder slept a familiar female figure Sirius had held in his arms a week ago, completely relaxed.
Sirius felt anger swelling, but his suffering didn't last for long because the girl stood up, walked towards him and offered Sirius her hand. Sirius accepted it without the slightest trace of hesitation. A look in the mirror in Malfoy Manor revealed that he was now waltzing with a girl as tall as himself, smelling of wild plants and the sea, in a lovely pale orange evening dress, with a single peach-coloured rose embellishing her hair, arranged elaborately on top of her head. There were no bruises any more on the revealed part of her shoulders and neck.
"Let us say good evening to the other guests," she said, "I'm sure that they all know you. I know them all from my mother's stories and albums and I would very much enjoy to meet them in person."
"Right," Sirius said, unable to refuse her anything, restraining the urge to pull out all the pins and then bury his head in her hair, barely able to remember that he was actually walking with charmed Umbridge and not with Ariana.
They greeted numerous Mulcibers, Rosiers, Averies and to his great surprise also Bones and McKinnons, the pure-blood families opposed to the Death Eaters ideas, who all promptly recognised Sirius as Arcturus Sirius Black.
Sirius Orion Black dared to invite Ariana Dumbledore, because all trace of Umbridge has somehow disappeared from his arms, for another dance, precisely at the moment when the orchestra announced that they would be playing "The Vampire's Tango".
Sirius remembered tango lessons from his youth, linked to bittersweet memories of his very first ball in Malfoy Manor when he was eleven years old. He remembered a self-conscious Bella in a simple green dress appropriate for an engagement ceremony, leaning on her younger sister Andromeda, confident and stunning in fluttering robes of grey and blue. Regulus and Narcissa ran over the dancing floor from the sides where they were supposed to stand with respective parents, and started playing hide and seek among guests until they were disciplined. Regulus was so happy and Narcissa not yet poised as she was going to become. Sirius hid behind a curtain and secretly admired Bella's fiancée's Rodolphus' confidence as the couple performed complex tango figures to the delight and fake smiles of family and friends.
How did we all lose our innocence, he thought, with silent knowledge that not a single one of the Black children escaped unharmed from the future. Bella went mad and became a murderer. Andromeda's daughter was risking her life every day as an Auror. Narcissa's marriage made her cold-hearted and stiff ... and Regulus... his younger brother ... died after he changed his mind about being a Death Eater He was barely more than a boy.
Sirius wanted to stop thinking about them all, about the potential that went to waste because of the rise to power of one Tom Riddle and the silly personal choices most of them had made. They would be by no means the only family decimated by the war and he only hoped that Tom Riddle would follow them on the path to extinction, which was, when it came to the Blacks, probably the best course of action in any case, if anyone asked Sirius for his honest opinion.
The Malfoy Manor was an ocean of sounds when Sirius started to dance with Ariana again, eyes locked with hers, noticing immediately the air of discomfort in her attitude. With distinct impression that she wanted to run away, he held her in a tight, but completely proper and chaste embrace.
"I lied to you, Sirius," she said with a small voice of reason.
"About what?" he wanted to know as they made a sharp turn on the floor and he bent her backwards as the dance required, enjoying every step they made together.
"I didn't correct your assumption that you died," Ariana stepped on his toes and blushed.
Making another sharp turn he asked, frightened, about the other thing, "Was everything else also a lie?"
Ariana whispered, "What do you think?"
Sirius was uncertain and he had to tread on uneasy ground, not finding words. "When I... when we... I'm sorry. I ... "
Ariana's face turned sad. "It's all right. I understand. You'll find a girl with her honour intact one day-"
"NO! Never! What we... I mean ... you never... besides who cares if you did... I mean... what we did together ... was not the same ... "
"Right," Ariana murmured. "Listen, Sirius, I never went to a ball before. Not even in my dreams. Don't spoil my dream by telling me the truth now. Let's just dance."
So they danced, their legs getting tired, his arm safely on her back until their thoughts swirled and mingled like their bodies and the music stopped playing. Sirius escorted Ariana out to the terrace to get some air, ignoring the strange looks he was receiving from the other guests when passing by, completely oblivious to the path they had to cross to arrive on the outside.
Merlin, how he wanted to kiss her! She nervously looked away, to the floor and into the darkness. The night was black and empty, starless and dull, a proper night for mischief rather than love. He took her face in his hands and she allowed it.
He wanted her so badly to be real.
Ariana's eyes glittered sharply before darkening and changing shape.
Beautiful pale orange dress faded into repulsive pink. The magic ended with the music and the grandfather's clock in one of the adjacent rooms cheerfully sounded two times. It was two o'clock in the morning and they must have danced for hours.
Sirius opened his eyes from noise, a second before he would end up kissing a very flushed Umbridge. Realising that his Marauder charms wore off, he managed to stop just on time. He heard Umbridge squeak, "OH! Uh! Oh my... You're so naughty... Arcturus!"
Positively disgusted and sick of both his visions and his reality, all social pretence gone, Sirius reached for his wand. He stunned Umbridge and stumbled away from the terrace, blinded with unshed tears. Back in the corridors of the Malfoy Mannor, he could not find the way back to the ballroom. All rooms looked the same and the passages seemed to change directions as if he had been walking on the moving stairways of Hogwarts.
After a while, he ended in front of the drawing room where he had left his great-great-grandfather, who was now engaged in deep discussion with their host.
"Are you sure that it works?" Phineas asked shrewdly.
"Only one way to know," Malfoy answered dryly. "It's the latest model device of this kind produced in continental Europe and very promising for your research. What I'm asking for is a small price to pay."
"I'm sure it'll be much more reliable than the flying cats or carpets ..." Phineas Nigellus gave an evil smirk.
"Most certainly, I would say. I will have it delivered to you tomorrow. I hope that you will live long enough to test it and tell me all about it." Abraxas sounded as if he wished exactly the opposite.
Sirius ran away when he heard footsteps approaching the door. The deal was apparently done and Sirius had to collect and Obliviate Umbridge before returning home, to Grimmauld Place.
Instead of reaching the terrace where he left her, he got lost again and ended up in a long dark corridor where all doors looked the same and caused him uneasiness, just the like doors in the Department of Mysteries. The only difference was that there were no ghosts surging from crystal balls filled with prophecies in the process of breaking. And, most fortunately, cousin Bellatrix had yet to grace the world with her unique presence.
He opened a door in the very back, hoping it led to the terrace. Instead, he faced a huge crystal sphere floating in the middle of the room. It was rotating in a slow motion, surrounded with a purple energy field, similar in colour to the one Ariana was attacked with by Grindewald on two occasions.
Crucified within the sphere, arms and legs stretched in all directions in a way which must have been a source of constant and rather strong pain, hung Professor Severus Snape.
Sirius considered blasting the greasy git's apparition and go on searching for Umbridge. Then he remembered one of his new life resolutions to think (a bit more than usual) and ask pertinent questions before acting, so he opted for talking.
"Have you recently been in a pub with a witch who slept on your shoulder, Snivellus?"
