The next day, the houseguest arrived.
Late in the morning, Sirius heard voices coming from the foyer and crept out to the edge of the second-floor landing. From there, he could see his parents greeting the small group who'd just entered the house.
Sirius recognized his cousin Bellatrix, Narcissa's older sister who had gotten married earlier in the summer—Sirius had stayed behind in his room again while the rest of his family attended the wedding. Bellatrix was as dark and moody as Narcissa was blonde and cold, and Sirius didn't like either of them much. He preferred their other sister, Andromeda, who was much friendlier and used to sneak Chocolate Frogs to Sirius under the table during Black holiday banquets. For a while now, though, Andromeda hadn't shown up to family functions. Sirius still didn't know exactly what had happened, but two years ago, around the time she graduated from Hogwarts, Sirius's mum had torched Andromeda's name off the elaborate tapestry of the Black family tree that hung on their drawing room wall. Nobody in the family had so much as mentioned her since.
Now Bellatrix glided across the entrance hall toward his parents. "Auntie Burgie, Uncle Orion," she purred. "Thank you for having us."
Walburga kissed her on the cheeks, while Orion reached out to shake hands with the two rather short and mousy men standing next to her. "Good to see you again, Rodolphus, Rabastan," Orion said, nodding to each man in turn. Sirius realized, from hearing their names, that they were Bellatrix's new husband and his brother.
Rodolphus cleared his throat. "Please allow me to introduce our cherished leader, Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord." He turned to the man standing behind him, who remained obscured from Sirius's view by the shadows of the dark entrance hall, and swept into a low bow. Rabastan and Bellatrix immediately bent to do the same. "My Lord, this is Orion and Walburga Black."
"It is our whole family's great honor to host you during your time in London, my Lord," Bellatrix added in a sickeningly sweet tone.
After a moment, the mysterious houseguest finally spoke for the first time. "Thank you, Bella."
As some kind of revolutionary political leader, Sirius expected him to bluster and boast like the Minister for Magic. But Lord Voldemort had a soft, slow voice. He hissed out his consonants in a way that made every hair on Sirius's arms stand up. Sirius craned his neck, trying to get a good look at him, but, for now, all he could see was the bottom of Voldemort's robes and his shiny black shoes.
"And thank you, Orion and Walburga Black," Voldemort continued. He dragged out each word, as if he had all the time in the world and felt assured that everyone in the room would remain attentive for as long as he chose to speak. "In time, I assure you, your generosity will be rewarded."
Orion inclined his head to Voldemort but did not bow. "My wife and I welcome you into our home, sir, and hope that you have a comfortable stay. I'll have the house elf bring your luggage up to our guest room."
Bellatrix reached out an arm to Voldemort and, looking up at him with pure adoration, guided him further into the foyer. Sirius now finally had a clear look at the man. He was tall and thin, with an elegant swoop of black hair across his forehead, but, beyond that, Voldemort looked only vaguely human. Red flashes rippled in his dark eyes and his nostrils were thin slits. Sirius could not even tell whether he was young or old because his skin was grey and opaque like wax, stretched tightly across his face. Sirius shivered.
"My Lord, please allow me to escort you to the dining room for lunch before you resume your meetings this afternoon," Rodolphus said, bowing again.
Voldemort nodded his assent and allowed Rodolphus to lead him across the foyer and toward the dining room, Rabastan trailing behind them. As Voldemort passed underneath the landing where Sirius stood, Sirius instinctively shrank bank from the edge, out of sight. Even so, and even though it didn't make sense, Sirius had a horrible feeling that Voldemort knew he was there.
Sirius heard the door to the dining room click shut. Then, down in the foyer where the Black family members had hung back for the moment, Bellatrix hissed, "Auntie, Uncle, you must show more respect to the Dark Lord, or he will not be pleased!"
"What do you mean, Bella?" Walburga asked. She tried to sound disdainful, but Sirius could hear an uncharacteristic nervous tremor in her voice.
"You must bow and address him as 'My Lord'!"
Sirius heard Orion emit a low grunt in his throat, a telltale sign that his father was irritated. "My dear Bella," he said stiffly, "my wife and I will bow to no one. We are of the noble house of Black, and it does not befit our station to show subservience to any wizard. Your father should have taught you better. A Black would not bow before the Minister himself."
Bellatrix cackled. "Maybe not. But you will bow before the Dark Lord one day, Uncle," she said slyly. "One day soon. You'll see."
Orion grunted again. Then they all headed off to the dining room, and the door clicked shut again behind them.
That evening, Regulus came to Sirius's bedroom to fetch him when it was time to head downstairs for supper. "Oh! You're wearing the nice robes that Mum laid out for you," Regulus observed with some surprise when Sirius opened the door.
Sirius shrugged carelessly. "It makes no difference to me what I wear. So, you decided you're talking to me again now, are you?"
Regulus didn't answer. He just set off down the hall with a firmly set chin and a vacant forward gaze. After a moment's pause, Sirius sighed and followed after him, his heart heavy. After a full year of not speaking to each other, at Hogwarts and at home, the space between him and his brother felt like it had grown up. This was no longer about childish squabbles.
Maybe it was this strange heavy feeling—or maybe it was being shut in for the whole summer with nobody to talk to—but in that instant, Sirius felt the urge to be honest with his brother.
"Reg?" Sirius threw out his arm in front of his brother to stop him as they descended the stairs.
Regulus stopped mid-step. "What?" he asked edgily.
Sirius dropped his voice down to a whisper. "He gives me a bad feeling."
Regulus stared at him. "Who? Lord Voldemort?"
Sirius nodded. "Can't you feel it? In here?" He patted his belly. "He just feels evil to me. We have to be careful. I mean, I know people say that Mum and Dad have meddled in some pretty dark stuff before, but he—"
Regulus cut in with a sneer on his face. "Don't be daft," he spat. "They're brainwashing you in Gryffindor. Those rumors about us are nothing but lies, spread by enemies of the House of Black. I trust Mum and Dad, and so should you."
Sirius opened his mouth to protest, but Regulus shouldered past him and continued down the stairs without a backward glance.
When they entered the dining room, Sirius saw that everyone else had already arrived. Lord Voldemort sat at the head of the long banquet table, while Sirius's father Orion sat at the other end. Sirius was surprised to find that his father looked quite small, seated directly opposite Voldemort. Along the sides of the table sat Walburga, Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Rabastan, Narcissa, Lucius Malfoy, Sirius's uncle Cynus and aunt Druella, and Sirius's ancient great aunt Elladora.
The conversation died down as the door clicked shut behind them.
"These are my sons," Walburga announced, rising to introduce them. "Regulus Arcturus Black, my younger son. About to begin his second year at Hogwarts." She smiled at Reg. "And Sirius Orion Black, my elder son, about to begin his third."
From her place at Voldemort's right hand, Bellatrix gave a loud snort. Narcissa flinched, but nobody else said a word.
As he and Regulus took their seats, Sirius squirmed under Voldemort's direct gaze. Voldemort was playing with his wand, weaving it in and out of his long, pale fingers. "Ah, Hogwarts," he said in his slow, cold voice. "I made many of my fondest memories there. What do you like best about your time at school thus far, Sirius?"
Sirius swallowed, casting about in his mind for an answer that would not embarrass his parents. "Er—Dueling Club? Sir?" His head hurt. He had the uneasy feeling that Voldemort was looking straight into his brain.
Voldemort seemed pleased. "Dueling, yes, a worthy skill indeed, and a supremely useful one. I'll need good duelers like you in the coming years, you know. I accept recruits at seventeen, when they come of age. The heir to the House of Black—you would make your ancestors quite proud."
Sirius bit his tongue. At this point, he wasn't quite sure whether he was subduing his smart retorts because he knew that was what his parents wanted, or because of real fear.
"And what's your favorite subject at Hogwarts, Sirius?"
Defense Against the Dark Arts immediately popped into Sirius's mind, but he tried to think of a more innocuous answer, one that would get Voldemort's attention off of him more quickly. "Uh—History of Magic," Sirius mumbled.
Voldemort broke into laughter, a high sound that trickled down Sirius's spine like icy water. "History of Magic?" he repeated. Bellatrix cackled. "Come now, I know that's simply not true. Tell me, boy, why do you feel the need to lie to me?"
Sirius's stomach dropped into a free fall as everyone around the table fell silent. It was suddenly so quiet that Sirius could hear the bones of the ancient house creak. The crystals on the chandelier tinkled gently overhead.
A few seconds crawled by and the tension in the room grew so thick that Sirius was sure he would choke to death on it if the silence continued. It seemed that his mother felt the same way under the unblinking gaze of the Dark Lord, because she leaped to her feet and stammered, "Please excuse my son. He is shy and gets nervous when speaking in the presence of important people. I must apologize on his behalf. Forgive us, my Lord."
This change in Walburga was so sudden that Sirius had the irrational thought that maybe she'd been cursed. But no, of course—that's why Bellatrix was laughing uncontrollably into her wine glass. Bellatrix had predicted this from the start. It was just the effect that Lord Voldemort seemed to have on people, even her severe, regal aunt Walburga.
Sirius watched, his face flaming, as his mother dipped her head into a stilted, panicked curtsy. Bellatrix let out another shriek of mirth. The corners of Orion's mouth twitched unhappily, but his father said nothing.
Voldemort left Sirius's trembling mother standing for a moment longer before nodding. "Very well, Walburga," he said, and the tension in the room eased immediately. She took a seat, and it could not have been clearer to everyone that the Dark Lord had shown her grace.
"There are more important things at hand," Voldemort continued, as if nothing of significance had happened. "Let's have a toast to our latest victory. After all, just last week, I managed to secure the cooperation of the werewolves."
He raised his glass of wine, and most of the others around the table did the same. But Cygnus, Sirius's uncle, objected in his high, snotty voice. "Now, hold on a minute! We cannot associate with werewolves. They are filthy animals!" His wife Druella nodded her agreement, wrinkling her nose as if she could smell a werewolf at the table.
"We were not aware that you had such allies," Orion added, flexing his fingers. The light from the candles in the chandelier flashed off of his heavy ring with the Black family crest, which glinted impressively in the dim room. "The House of Black may have to rethink our contribution to your organization. Subjugating the Mudbloods is an admirable cause, but not one Galleon of our gold will go to sustaining such dirty half-breeds."
Sirius swallowed hard. He knew his father was trying to save face, to regain back some of the power he had somehow lost to this strange visitor without realizing it. After all, Orion Black was far too proud to be humiliated in the dining room of his ancestral home. But the thought of his father refusing Voldemort anything, and angering him further, made Sirius want to vomit.
To his surprise, though, Voldemort smiled. The waxy skin stretched around his mouth in a way that was more grotesque than comforting. "Orion, my friend, do not fear," he said smoothly. "Your reputation will remain intact. The werewolves are but mere instruments for us, weapons that we will use to pursue our ultimate goals. The Ministry has already alienated them with talks of reviving the old passbook laws, and you must admit that they are good tools—easily manipulated, easily controlled, like dogs."
That's not fair, Sirius thought automatically, but before he could say anything, Sirius's senile great aunt Elladora burst forth from the other side of the table. "Now that's good sense!" she cried, wagging a wrinkled finger.
With the approval of the Black elder and his pride mended, Orion seemed satisfied. He inclined his head again, and, with a small smile, raised his wine glass. Uncle Cygnus followed suit. "To good sense, then," Orion murmured.
Voldemort regarded him calmly, as if he had never entertained a doubt that Orion would eventually capitulate to his will. "To good sense," he repeated, and drank.
Without batting an eye, he then turned his gaze upon Lucius and Narcissa. "It would seem that the next generation of the Black family, too, has good sense. A toast to Lucius and Narcissa, who, before their graduation from Hogwarts, successfully began a movement within its walls that will provide me with young talent for decades to come. Together, we will bring war to the Muggleborns and return the blood elite to our rightful place in Wizarding society." Everyone toasted and drank again, although Bellatrix pouted and glared jealously at her sister. "Tell me, Lucius, how goes the scouting and recruitment?"
Lucius licked his lips. "It goes well, my Lord. My associates have already gathered a group of sympathizers, and they have assembled a list of all appropriate recruits at the school that will be updated at the start of each coming year. They are proceeding with recruitment plans, but, of course, discreetly."
Sirius saw Lucius's pale eyes dart down the table toward Regulus and remembered, with a sinking feeling, the long scroll of names that he'd caught his brother and the other Slytherins compiling in the library during the previous school year.
"Excellent," Voldemort said. "We have much to be thankful for tonight, then. Let us dine."
A small army of house elves, led by Kreacher, bustled into the dining room carrying gleaming silver platters of meat, potatoes, and roasted vegetables. Sirius had only ever seen such an array on the Black family dining table during Christmas Eve supper, but he wasn't very hungry. His mouth felt so dry that the food tasted like sand.
As everyone ate, Bellatrix preened over Voldemort, urging him to enjoy his meal. Sirius noticed that he did seem to eat very little. He spent more time twirling his wand between his fingers and closely watching the other diners than he did eating himself.
"Enough, Bella," he said as she clung to the crook of his elbow, fretting over his untouched plate. "There is no need for me to eat much these days. I have asked a Potions Master to brew a special draught of snakeskin and turtle shell to slow my metabolic pace—one goblet of it each morning is sufficient to nourish me throughout the day. Because of it, my body now ages at half the pace of a normal wizard, and I am rarely hungry."
Sirius shivered in horror and looked back down at his plate. For the rest of the meal, he avoided Voldemort's roving red eyes, somehow sensing that it was eye contact that had allowed Voldemort to probe his mind. Even without eye contact, though, he was afraid that Voldemort somehow already knew that Sirius believed he was evil.
Sirius spent the rest of the week like this, hunched and terrified in his chair, avoiding eye contact at meals and avoiding all other contact otherwise, until Voldemort left the house for good and the heavy shroud that had covered Grimmauld Place finally lifted. Sirius had not thought it possible that his childhood home could become any darker and gloomier, but he had been wrong. Eagerly he counted down the days until he could head back to school and tell his friends about what he'd overheard in his own dining room. An impending war on Muggleborns, werewolves used as tools of violence, and Sirius's own family in the middle of it? Could it be possible that his parents had harbored the man behind the unrest growing all across the country, right there in the House of Black?
Sirius would be arriving back at Hogwarts with a lot on his mind.