Number 12 Grimmauld Place was a strange house, it had seen, happiness, sadness, cowardice and bravery in equal measures. It had been loved and neglected,it had been a beacon of safety for many, but a stifling prison built of memories and guilt for others.
The building itself was perfectly normal on the outside, it was a brick townhouse, with a black gloss painted front door on which the number 12 was displayed in brass. It blended into the terrace of other brick townhouses in the row.
If one looked closely, there were a few things that seemed…...out of place, for one there was no door-handle, this was no problem for the people who visited the house, neighbours that observed any comings and goings merely thought the owners were slightly eccentric, but wealthy recluses(after all this was an exclusive neighbourhood and of course wealth excused a lot of short-comings), who had fitted an intercom and buzzer system to allow entry as the door would swing in slowly allowing access, yet there would be nobody stood to greet visitors and people passed into the interior unhindered. For those curtain twitchers who specialised in the minding of other people's business, there were several other odd things, 11 people that visited number 12 were always slightly oddly dressed, the clothes they wore were incredibly well cut and obviously expensive, however the combinations in which the visitors wore them, was distinctly uncoordinated. We come to the oddest and perhaps in the eyes of the curtain twitchers the most concerning thing that was noticed about number 12…..Nobody ever came back out!
The explanation which made all of the oddities, perfectly normal and almost respectable would have blown their conservative little minds, the house was magical, the occupants were magical and the people that visited we're all magical as well.
Grimmauld place was built in the eighteen hundreds, in the golden age of London where the poor knew they were poor and the rich knew they were everything. The Blacks of the age approved of the segregation, anything which distinguished them as members of the upper echelon of society (up to and including deigning to mingle and live among muggles) was fine with them. To the muggles society they were Lord and Lady Black, a staid middle aged couple who stuck to their own social class and floated through all engagements with easy arrogance.
In the magical world they were Lord and Lady of the ancient and most noble house of Black, their bloodline could be traced back to Merlin (or close enough) they were one of the families that made up the sacred twenty eight. Over the years the Blacks fought valiantly to keep their blood pure, other families died out, the progeny of families who were blessed with issue we're magically weak, and in more humiliating cases completely devoid of magic altogether. If people suspected that the Black's occasionally had children the "wrong side of the blanket" and with people of an inferior bloodline, it was never voiced, lest the wrath of the infamously unstable Black women should be unleashed upon them.
Therefore it was not commented upon when Walburga and Orion, the current Lord and Lady Black were blessed with twins, a boy and a girl, both of whom displayed magic from the crib and a few years later another strong baby boy who from the moment he was born had his stern, unyielding mother wrapped around his little finger. Their father insisted on continuing the Black tradition of naming the children, Sirius Orion Black, Antares Hesper Black and Regulus Arcturus Black after some of the brightest stars in the sky.
Walburga, an outwardly traditional stay at home witch, had excelled at defense against the dark arts, the dark arts and transfiguration during her education at Hogwarts, although she made sure her exam results were merely acceptable, in line with her father's expectations of a demure young woman.
Being from a pureblood family herself with a betrothal contract with the Black family since the cradle she was always destined to be a queen among witches. Therefore she had no use for household spells or potions (although she studied some of the darker concoctions), if her or her family required medical attention, she would have plenty of galleons at her disposal for private potioneers, mediwitches and doctors and the household chores were handled by capable and dedicated band of house elves who were passed down through the female line of Crabbes, they served her mother before her and on the occasion of Antares they would become hers.
Orion was a doting father, much more so than was acceptable in the eyes of his much stricter father, it was with some relief that he learnt of the passing of Arcturus Black, as the eldest son he took up the mantle as head of the family, his mother Melanie moved into the family home content to site upon her grandchildren, between Walburga and Melanie, there was no chance that their charges would grow up into anything but welll educated, well mannered children who were set to take Hogwarts and both the magical and non magical worlds by storm.
The children were close, the youngest, Regulus, was as close to the twins as they were to each other and the three were often mistaken for triplets. Grandma Melanie taught them to read, (her heritage was a little more mixed than the Blacks, the gift of magic having only blessed her family a few generations previously, she had barely passed the approval of old Sirius Black, father of Arcturus), sitting of an evening in front of a roaring fire, telling them about the magical adventures of Merlin, Arthur and Morgan Le Faye and the classical tales of non magical authors such as Charles Dickens, William Shakespeare, the Bronte Sisters, Conan Doyle and in their later years Edgar Allen Poe.
By day she had them read selections of poetry correcting Antares diction as she read, adjusting her posture and reminding her that as a young lady of position and influence that she was expected to charm the hardest of hearts with her beauty, poise and voice. The boys were reminded that they were young gentlemen of good repute and superior breeding and that, as their parents had not seen fit to negotiate betrothals for them, unwisely in her opinion, that when they reached an age where they would leave for Hogwarts, young ladies would be striving for their attentions in the hope that they would be chosen to become the latest Lady Black.
Walburga drummed into them every obscure piece of etiquette for every conceivable occasion, perhaps terrified that her children disgrace her by committing a heinous faux pas by addressing the brother of an earl incorrectly, or passing the port the wrong direction at the banqueting table.
Tutors were constant visitors to the home, teaching them the mind arts, potions, basic magical control and history of magic, including lessons for Antares on the who's who of the magical world.
Regulus soaked up the knowledge, acutely aware that he would be two years behind his siblings at Hogwarts, he hoped feverishly that if he kept up with their learning that he would be able to attend when they did, he was to be disappointed, his mother wouldn't even consider the idea, the idea of her little boy leaving two years early was unthinkable.
Antares learnt all she needed to, she was a pretty child, her eyes were a deep grey flecked with shining silver, her hair was as black as pitch, straight and sleek, she kept it tidied back in a French plait using a simple spell a French governess had once taught her. She enjoyed the time she got to spend with her siblings, she loved her parents and grandmother, but they did insist on perfect manners, diction at all times and absolutely forbid unladylike behaviour.
Sirius was entirely different to his siblings, he abhorred the lessons they were taught with every fiber of his being, he sat through them, reading the latest edition of Quidditch News or Muggle comic he had snagged on his forbidden forays into the Muggle neighbourhood which surrounded Grimmauld Place. He adored his siblings and he spent a good portion of his time making them laugh, and boy did he feel like they needed it, they were being groomed to take their places as adults in society, he didn't want to be a society figurehead, he didn't want to be a politician or a diplomat, he dreamt of adventure and travel, he longed to see the world he'd heard about in the novels Grandma Melanie had read them as children. Here he was on the cusp of the best years of his life at the legendary Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and his parents were acting like it was his debut into the Wizengamot.