One of Sirius's earliest memories was of refusing to get into the bath. As a small child he would - to the eternal frustration of a long line of nannies - run, hide, shout and scream in protest at the mention of bath time. The claw-footed bathtub, with its feet not of claws, but of slithering, golden serpents, had ignited a spark within his young, but already famously-vivid imagination. He'd been convinced that the moment he was in the tub, the four snakes would spring to life and slither inside, intent on curling themselves around his limbs like ropes, pulling him down under the water.
The air in the bathroom was thick with steam from the hot water. The bathtub, the very same one from Sirius's now-grainy childhood memories, was filled high and topped like an ice cream sundae with a generous coating of snowy-white, soapy foam. One of Kreacher's few positive qualities was his ability to draw a decent bath, and it seemed the shrivelled little elf had not forgotten that, as a child, one of Sirius's attempts to avoid getting into the bathtub he viewed as a death trap was to loudly complain that there weren't enough bubbles.
Whether this generous helping today was a gesture of genuine consideration or simply the bat-eared little cretin's attempt at a joke, Sirius wasn't sure. But either way, the steaming water certainly did look inviting.
Sirius hissed as he dipped a foot into the water. Three years spent locked away in the cold of Azkaban had robbed him of the memory of the simple pleasure of a hot bath. After a moment's pause to adjust to the shock, he slowly lowered himself into the bath, forcing himself to pursue against his skin's protest against the searing water. When at last he was fully in, he sank up to his neck in the water and laid back. He closed his eyes and sighed contentedly as his body began to adjust to the heat. The warmth seeped into his cold, brittle bones and warmed him through. Merlin, he'd forgotten how heavenly it felt to be so warm.
A sudden, painful thought struck him deep in the chest. Sirius felt his heart sink, like a stone to the bottom of a pool, landing with a sharp thud. He opened his eyes and stared at the gold, serpent-headed water taps. The fanged snakes glared back at him accusingly.
What right had he to feel such luxury, after all he'd done?
Sirius hauled himself out of the water and sat back up, a wave of water spilling over the rim of the bath as he moved. He splashed a handful of water over his face and felt the soapy suds sting his eyes. He blinked hard, feeling the full effect. He might not be deserving of a hot soak, but if he emerged from this bathroom in the state of cleanliness anything other than pristine, he wouldn't put it past her to drag him back inside and scrub him raw herself.
Old habits die hard, after all.
An array of bottles of toiletries were laid out on an end table beside the bath. Sirius leaned over the edge and stretched out an arm, but the table was an irritating inch too far away to reach. He stretched further, his fingertips just brushing the edge of the shampoo bottle. But in his still-weakened state, his arm gave a shudder - and sent the glass bottle toppling to the floor where it landed with a loud smash.
"Shit" Sirius hissed as he stared at the mess on the floor. A task as simple as reaching for a damned bottle of shampoo, and he couldn't even manage that. If he only had a wand-
"Sirius?" He started at the sound of his name, accompanied by a sharp rap of knuckles on the bathroom door. "Are you alright?"
Scarcely a moment had passed since the bottle had smashed. Had his mother been camped right outside the door all this time?
"Fine" he replied, a little too hastily.
"What was that noise?"
"Nothing" he called back, but to no avail. His head whipped round as the lock on the door gave a click and it swung wide open.
In marched Walburga, her wand brandished, her grey eyes flickering between him and the mess on the floor.
"Mother!" Sirius shouted, plunging himself neck-deep beneath the water.
Walburga ignored him. Sirius watched as she pointed her wand at the smashed shampoo bottle and gave a single, silent flick in its direction. The bottle repaired itself instantly, its contents replaced. It floated back up onto its empty space on the side table.
"Thanks" Sirius murmured, still submerged up to his chin in the water.
Walburga's hawkish gaze turned its attention back to her son. Sirius felt himself shrink further under her withering gaze. He was thankful for the thick layer of bubbles shrouding him from view, but the critical way she looked at him still made him want to sink under the water completely.
"Sit up"
Sirius looked up at her.
"What?"
"It was a simple enough instruction"
Somewhat reluctantly, Sirius obeyed, slowly pulling himself up out of the water, but doing his best to ensure that as much of himself as possible was hidden by the mounds of bubbles. Despite his best efforts, it was impossible to completely hide his skeletal torso from view, and he could practically feel his mother's gaze burning into his back at the sight of his sharp shoulder blades jutting out. He brought his knees up to his chest, shrinking himself into a defensive, hunched position.
What he expected next was a disapproving remark about how thin he was, most likely followed by a long chastising about how he ought to have made more of an effort with his lunch.
What he got was the sight of his mother silently picking up the newly-repaired shampoo bottle and perching herself on the rim of the bath.
"Head back" she said, in a surprisingly soft voice. Taken aback, and with little else to do besides, Sirius did as she ordered.
He flinched as he saw his mother's wand rise towards his head from the corner of his eye, but relaxed when he felt a rush of hot water cascading through his hair and down his back.
A heavy silence reigned as Walburga repeated the action several times over until the entirety of Sirius's thick, tangled mane was soaked to her satisfaction.
"You always used to hate this" Walburga murmured, her voice barely audible over the loud pop which echoed through the room as she uncorked the shampoo bottle.
"What?" Sirius turned to look at her. Her face was blank, refusing to give away any clue as to what true feelings lurked beneath her blank façade.
"Having your hair washed" Walburga replied as she tipped a handful of the purple liquid into her palm. She gave an amused sigh and shook her head. "The scenes you would create! Such a silly, trivial thing to make such a fuss over every evening. It was quite the spectacle"
Sirius wordlessly stared at the serpent-headed taps. He stiffened automatically as his mother's hands rested on his head and began to lather the shampoo into his hair. To his surprise, she kneaded the foam into his head with surprising gentleness. It was a far cry from the rough, head-jerking affairs he could recall from vague childhood memories. As her fingers continued to massage his scalp, he felt himself relaxing instinctively.
"You used to give your nannies quite the ordeal, I recall" Walburga continued, airily. Sirius half-wondered whether she was expecting a reply to the vague comments she made, or if she was simply talking to herself. He hugged his knees tighter to his chest.
By the time Walburga was satisfied that his hair was thoroughly-soaped, Sirius's head felt heavy with the weight of it. Walburga then lifted her wand once more and began to rinse his head clean with another jet of hot water. The shampoo fell away from his hair, with a good deal of the knots untangling themselves as they were rinsed.
"How you used to complain!" Walburga remarked as she worked the clean water into the layers of hair. "Endlessly whining that the suds would run into your eyes and sting. What nonsense. Why, if I'd had a galleon for every time each of those useless girls had to summon me to finish the task myself, all because of that same, silly trick-"
"Never did fail to work, though, did it?"
The water gushing from the tip of Walburga's wand ceased suddenly. Sirius stared straight ahead, but he could see from the corner of his eye that his mother had stiffened, caught off guard by the words which he wasn't sure he'd meant to say. He hadn't seemed to be able to help it - he'd blurted them out before he'd fully realised what he was doing. His heart hammered so hard in his chest that he was surprised the water around him didn't ripple.
After a silent moment which dragged by for what felt more like an hour, Walburga discreetly cleared her throat and resumed rinsing Sirius's hair in silence until the shampoo was completely gone.
She ran her fingers through the soaked, ink-coloured curtain of silk his hair had become - the sections that weren't marred by thick clumps of matts which even the detangling shampoo couldn't conquer. She gave a faint "hmm" of approval at its new, clean state.
Her task now complete, Walburga stood up.
"I'll leave you to finish up," she said, pocketing her wand. "Once you're clean and dry, come to the parlour. It's time we tackled that hair properly"
When Sirius failed to reply, she turned away from the bath and left the room, closing the door behind her.
The moment he heard the door click shut, Sirius breathed a heavy sigh of relief and slid back down beneath the water, wishing he could be completely submerged within the safe obscurity of the steam and suds, never to be seen again.
The past few minutes had felt entirely surreal, and he couldn't quite place how he felt about any of it. He lifted a hand to his head and ran his fingers through his newly-clean hair, tracing the tracks of where his mother's fingers had kneaded at his scalp. A part of him had felt the urge to shake her off, to snap that he didn't need her help and could do it himself. So why hadn't he?
The same reason you kicked up such a storm to get her to do it when you were a child, a voice inside his head told him.
Pushing that irritating voice firmly to the back of his mind, Sirius reached for the (thankfully easier to reach) bar of soap on the side table and began the process of removing the visible evidence of his three years in prison.
Half an hour after she'd left Sirius alone to finish his bath, Walburga was mildly surprised to find herself joined by her in the parlour, precisely as ordered. She'd half-expected him to retreat back to his bedroom to hide, forcing her to retrieve him herself.
Given his previous history with hair cuts, she'd had good reason to be wary.
The state of Sirius's hair had been a constant source of battle between mother and son throughout his teenage years. As a child, Sirius had reluctantly allowed his mother to give his thick, black hair a trim every few weeks - a task she never once delegated to his many governesses over the years. But once he'd started at Hogwarts, and the influence of those wretched Gryffindors he'd been surrounded by had corrupted him, he'd started to fight back against being forced into a chair on his first evening home every school holiday to have his shaggy, overgrown mop trimmed back into neat submission.
"Can't you just let me grow it out?" Sirius had argued at the age of fourteen. "I don't want it short. I want to grow it long - like the men in the magazines"
Walburga had been appalled to hear that not only did her firstborn wish to grow his hair out to such a shaggy, downright wild length, but she was downright livid that he'd been inspired to do so by photographs in Muggle magazines.
"No son of mine is going to shame this family by traipsing around looking like a good-for-nothing Muggle scum" she'd hissed, digging her nails into her son's shoulder as she pushed him down into the chair for his hair cut. "And besides, your hair is far too thick for such a length. It needs to be kept tidy"
"I don't want to look tidy" Sirius had shot back with a scowl, folding his arms sulkily across his chest in protest. A token protest, at best, for his mother had won the battle and gotten her way - as she'd known she would.
From then on, the moment the family had arrived home from Kings Cross station on the first evening of every holiday, Sirius would shoot straight upstairs and slam his bedroom door firmly shut, keeping himself hidden away in a vain effort to avoid his mother's inevitable attentions to the straggly, feathered ends of his hair. His efforts were always in vain. Sooner or later, Walburga would have her way, and Sirius would spend his first evening of the holidays with a face like thunder at the dinner table - but with a head of freshly-trimmed hair. And so, his mother was satisfied.
Stood before her now, with his freshly-scrubbed skin flushed a far more healthier hue, and his newly-washed hair hanging in wet tendrils around the arms of his fresh pyjamas, Walburga noted with amusement that Sirius eyed the chair she had conjured and told him to sit on with the same look of dread as he'd had when he was twelve years old.
"Hurry up" she said, gesturing to the chair with her wand. "We haven't all day"
Sirius's eyes silently flickered up at her once more, but finally, he shuffled forward and slowly sank into the chair as ordered.
Walburga lifted a hand to take hold of a clump of hair, and Sirius suddenly jerked his head away like a startled horse.
"Can you just-"
His rushed words paused as Walburga's gaze immediately fixed upon him at lightning speed. He swallowed dryly before continuing.
"Can you just not cut it too short. Please"
Walburga continued to stare, stony-faced.
"I will cut it as short as is necessary," she said, firmly. She lifted a thick, tangled clump of hair in her hand and shook her head with a troubled sigh. "There's certainly quite a lot that needs to go"
"Yes, but you'll leave what you can?" Sirius asked, turning round to look up at her. "I don't want it short. Not like- Not like before"
Walburga paused to consider her response. Her overwhelming, natural urge was to tell her son in no uncertain words that his hair would be cut as short as long or as short as she deemed it ought to be.
But, she conceded, if she was to have any hope at all of ensuring that Sirius was presentable for dinner that evening, she was going to have to tread carefully, and choose her words wisely. It wouldn't do to say the wrong thing and have him storming off up to his room in a fit of temper twice in as many days.
Besides, the appalling state of what had always been one of her handsome boy's finest features had been a source of major irritation to her since he'd first arrived home, and she was itching to at last get on with the task of restoring it to its former glory.
"Perhaps" she said, running another lock of hair through her fingertips and frowning when she was stopped by another large matt in her path. "As I said, a good deal of it will need to go. It is simply too tangled. But, we will see what can be saved"
This tentative promise was enough to placate Sirius, for now. He gave a single, slight nod and turned his back to her, giving silent consent for her to begin.
Walburga gathered the first lock of hair in her hand, ensuring the biggest of the matts was included, and raised her wand. The elm wood sliced through the thick hair as cleanly as a razor-sharp blade. Walburga released her grip and the hair fell to the floor.
Sirius winced at the sound of the hair being cut. He breathed deeply but did not resist as his mother gathered another lock of hair into her hand.
"You've always had such difficult hair" she murmured as she sliced away the next matt-ridden chunk with her wand-tip. Her fingers lingered on one of the remaining sections, letting the wet, inky strands flow along her fingertips, her other hand resting atop Sirius's bony shoulder as she took a moment to pause and take stock of her work. "Such a trial to control, even when you were a child. Always so unruly. Practically wild, if left unchecked for too long"
The shoulder underneath the hand on which it rested suddenly tensed, and Walburga felt a chill run down her spine. Was she still simply talking about his hair, or had some deeper feelings managed to bleed their way into her words? Did she expect a reply to any of her rambling? The emotions tumbling about inside her felt as tangled as the mane of hair she was in the process of taming.
Seizing hold of herself, Walburga cleared her throat and busied herself with cleanly slicing away the next chunk of matted hair.
After a few silent moments, broken only by the occasional cutting sounds, Walburga spoke again - his time, with no doubt that she expected Sirius to listen.
"You know I'll have to inform your grandfather about your being an Animagus, don't you?"
Sirius's head whirled round so suddenly that Walburga had to withdraw her wand quickly, lest she risk scalping a section of his head.
"No," Sirius said, his eyes wide with urgency. "Please, no. You can't tell him that"
"It's too great a secret to keep from him" Walburga's voice was firm. "In any case, you ought to have told us this in the first place, when you revealed Pettigrew's Animagus form"
Sirius visibly stiffened at the sound of Pettigrew's name.
"It's none of his business" he snapped, viciously. "It's no one's business except mine"
"Your business is your family's business" Walburga said sternly. "You've no business keeping secrets from us, particularly when it could affect the outcome of your trial"
"I don't care about the fucking trial!" Walburga was taken aback by the force of Sirius's angry voice. "How many times do I have to say it? You're wasting your time on the whole thing"
Sirius attempted to hurl himself out of the chair, but was thwarted by a lightning-quick reaction from Walburga, who forced him firmly back into his seat with a sharp jerk of her wand.
"Enough of this!" she hissed. Her wand trembled in her hand as anger immediately flared up inside her, triggered by her son's awful words. To her satisfaction, Sirius flinched at her dangerous tone. "I've had quite enough of your foolish talk. I will be informing Arcturus of your little secret this evening and if he decides it will benefit your case in any way, we will use it"
Sirius opened his mouth to protest, but was silenced when Walburga raised her wand threateningly.
"And if I hear one more word on the subject, I'll relieve you of your words until you're ready to use them more appropriately"
Sirius's expression darkened at the memory of his mother's silencing charms - that most hated of childhood punishments for speaking out of turn. His cheeks burned red with anger, but the threat worked. With no wand of his own to reverse any incantation cast upon him, he was as powerless to resist her threats of punishment as he had been when he was a child. The stormy look on his face made it clear for all to see that this was a thought which he found positively infuriating.
He twisted himself back round in his chair, slumped back with his arms folded, and allowed his mother to continue her work on his hair in furious silence.
Pleased with her victory, Walburga cleared her throat and turned her attention back to her task of taming her son's hair.
A quarter of an hour later, the majority of Sirius's ruined locks were gone at last, and Walburga paused once again to assess her handiwork. Sirius's hair now stopped just past his shoulders - precisely the length she had heard him describe as having wanted to imitate from those dreadful Muggle magazines, and a fair amount longer than she deemed appropriate for a dignified young wizard of his standing.
Walburga had long-since accepted the fact that Sirius's hair, like so many other aspects of him, was annoyingly identical to her own. Particularly thick and with something of a mind of its own. Early on in his childhood, she'd attempted to keep it restrained in a short, tidy style identical to the one she'd always kept Regulus's finer hair in. But Sirius's rebellious, wild mane would stick out stubbornly at odd angles and was so thick that it looked rather more untidy when short than if allowed some length to weigh itself down. As such, she'd had to compromise on keeping it trimmed to a length around the top of his neck - long enough to be kept neatly styled, but still short enough to be deemed acceptable according to her very precise standards.
By the time her work was done and Sirius had tentatively lifted his fingertips to his head to get a feel for the new length of his hair, Walburga had begun to feel a reassuring sense of satisfaction at the sight of her son's hair returned to the style she'd kept it in when he was a boy.
A sentiment not shared by Sirius himself.
"What the bloody hell have you done to me?!" Sirius shouted, wide-eyed with shock as he realised how short his hair now was. He leaped up out of the chair, showering the floor with loose clippings of hair that fell from his shoulders as he rushed across the room to the gilded mirror on the wall above the fireplace.
"On what sodding planet does this count as "not too short"?!"
Walburga rolled her eyes and airily flicked her wand at the mess of hair on the floor, vanishing the lot.
"Honestly, Sirius, there's no need to overreact"
"Overreact?! You've hacked off my hair!" Sirius pulled at the strands of hair around his ears. "I told you, I wanted it left long!"
"It wasn't possible to leave it any longer than this" Walburga insisted. "And besides-"
She strode across the room to stand before her enraged son.
"You do have such lovely hair - when it's properly looked after. You don't want to ruin yourself, going about looking like an unkempt stray, do you?"
She raised her hand and stroked it fondly down the side of his head.
Sirius jerked his head out of her reach, turning an angry shade of red at the obvious quip at his newly-discovered Animagus form.
"That was precisely what I wanted," he spat, bitterly. "And I told you what I wanted before you started. Like hell this was the longest you could leave it. You did this on purpose!"
Walburga's nostrils flared at her son's angry accusation.
"Do not speak in that crude tone, Sirius Orion" Walburga warned, her irritation with him growing. "I will not allow you to go about looking like a common Muggle"
Sirius tossed his head, sweeping his newly-trimmed locks out of his face with an air of casual grace that three years of Azkaban hadn't managed to squash out of him. After all, one could never truly be rid of what came natural.
"Oh please stop pretending this has anything to do with me looking like a Muggle" Sirius snapped venomously. "You aren't fooling anyone. This is entirely down to the fact that you can't stand to let me have my own way on anything - even my own bloody hair!"
He gave his reflection another disgusted glance and turned away from the mirror.
"I've had enough of this," he seethed. He turned away from his mother and headed for the door. "I'm going upstairs"
"Good"
Sirius paused midway across the room and looked back at her. Walburga was mildly amused to find him so perplexed to hear her agree with his intentions.
"You ought to take a nap this afternoon. You'll need to be fresh for dinner - and you always did get irritable without a proper rest during the day"
"I'm not a child!" Sirius retorted, clenching his fists. "I can function perfectly well on a decent night's sleep"
"But you have not had a decent night's sleep, have you?"
Sirius paused. She'd caught him on a snag in his argument.
"Go upstairs and rest" Walburga's words, previously a suggestion, were now clearly an order. "Take the sleeping draught. A fifth of the dose phial ought to give you a good few hours of uninterrupted rest"
Sirius swallowed thickly and glared - but did not argue.
"I will be up to check on you later" Walburga continued, briskly. "And if I should discover you sleeping anywhere other than in your bed, as is right and proper, then I will supervise you every evening from now on to ensure that is where you do sleep"
Sirius flushed anew. His shoulders tensed, his hackles raised, but he did not argue back. He turned away, silently, and fled the room, slamming the door shut behind him.
Walburga smiled to herself.
Half-past seven found Grimmauld Place in a state of activity it had not known in years. The air was thick with the luxurious smell of food wafting from the kitchen, the dining room chandelier was laden with fresh candles set ablaze, and the clattering sound of china rang through the halls as Kreacher laid out the best dinner plates, each one rimmed with gold and stamped in the centre with the Black family crest.
In his bedroom on the topmost floor, Sirius stared at his reflection in the mirror. What stared back at him was an image he had long-since convinced himself he would never see again.
His newly-washed and cut hair hung perfectly round the base of his neck, with just a few slightly shorter locks framing his face. He had to admit that it did look a lot tidier - compared to what it had been, at least. His afternoon's sleep had diminished the shadows under his eyes. And with the sleeping draught having granted him a couple of hours of undisturbed sleep, he looked almost refreshed. An instance of having been proved right that he was sure his mother wouldn't waste an opportunity to gloat about.
But it was the clothes he was dressed in which he found the most disconcerting. The clothes he'd awoken after his sleep to find laid out on the chair beside his wardrobe, clearly stating that they were what he was to wear that evening. They were the final, cementing detail in the image of the person who stared back at Sirius in the mirror - an image he'd sworn he would never fulfil again, the night he turned his back on his family and this life forever all those years ago.
The set of rich, navy-blue evening robes he was dressed in were a set Sirius did not remember fondly. They brought back unpleasant memories of the gloomy birthday for which they had been a gift from his mother. His sixteenth birthday, and his last as a member of the Black family.
"And it's going to stay that way" Sirius said firmly to his reflection.
"What is going to stay which way, Sirius Orion?"
Sirius's head turned towards the sound of his mother's voice. Walburga marched into the room, dressed in an elegant evening gown of deep burgundy, a heavy necklace of ruby-encrusted gold around her slender neck and an expectant look on her freshly-made-up face.
"Nothing" Sirius replied, turning back towards his reflection. The delicate silver detailing on the lapels and sleeves of his robes shone in the flicker of the candlelight.
Lord, how he'd hated these ridiculous robes from the day he'd first set eyes on them.
From the corner of the mirror, he could see his mother's reflection. There she stood, hands on hips, eyeing him with a look which said she was not satisfied with his answer.
"Can't you ever just knock and wait 'til I say to come in?" Sirius asked, rolling his eyes as he tugged anxiously at his lapels.
"Why on earth would I do that?"
"Because there's this little concept which you might not be familiar with, though it's actually rather popular. It's called privacy"
The lipsticked mouth of Walburga's reflection curled upward into an amused smile which Sirius found instantly irritating.
"Nonsense" she said, walking up to stand beside him. She steered him round by the shoulders to face her. Her eyes ran up and down him, inspecting him. "You are my son. You've no need for privacy from me"
Before Sirius could reply, he was distracted by the feel of his mother's hands running down the sleeves of his robes, smoothing out the already non-existent creases.
"This set always did look particularly fine on you" she remarked, running her hand down the length of his sleeve. "Blue always did suit your complexion. And it sets off the black of your hair so nicely"
There was an obvious note of pride in her voice, a possessive sort of pride which made Sirius instantly feel self-conscious and uneasy. She spoke of him, not to him, as though he were a prized show horse - there to be shown-off by its lucky owner to an admiring crowd.
"Leave off, will you?" Sirius shook his head away as Walburga attempted to smooth down a stray section of his hair.
"The fit is reasonable, all things considered" Walburga continued, giving no indication that she'd heard him at all. She gazed down at the length of his robes thoughtfully. "We'll need to lower the hemline a little, however. You've grown a few inches"
"Hardly surprising" Sirius gave a moody snort. "I was sixteen when you bought the bloody things, after all"
If the memory of the unfortunate birthday on which Walburga had gifted her son the robes triggered any reaction in her mind, she gave no outward indication. She busily pulled out her wand from her skirt pocket and set about extending the hemline of his robes down to his ankles. A faint, shimmering light hovered around the material as her spell did its work, and Sirius looked down at the material. So impeccable was her work that the robes bore little visible evidence that they had been tampered with at all.
His mother had always been known for her sharp skills when it came to household spells.
"You look so like your father"
His mother's words were so quiet, so dream-like, that at first Sirius wondered if he'd imagined them. His chest seemed to tighten upon realising that she had indeed spoken aloud. He turned his head sharply to look at her, and found a look upon her face which he was quite certain he had never seen before.
It was something of a mixture between admiration and regret. Both of which were emotions that Sirius was so unused to expecting from his mother than he found himself at a loss for how to react.
He swallowed, and found the reflex unexpectedly painful, as though attempting to force down a stone lodged in his throat.
"Let's just-" he brushed away his mother's hand which lingered against his arm. "-get this over with, shall we?"
He forced his way past her, mildly surprised that she did not object to his leaving without dismissal, and left her alone in his bedroom.
Sirius marched down the hallway, feeling the material of his robes billowing behind him in his haste, and fought desperately to try and reign in the growing wave of emotion building inside him. Walburga had not spoken to him of his father at all, thus far. All thought of Orion Black had been locked away, buried deep within Sirius's mind for so long that he could scarcely remember the last time he'd thought of him.
And now, as he furiously rubbed his eye with the palm of his hand to alleviate the tell-tale sting, Sirius remembered why he'd made it a firm rule not to think of his father, even long before Azkaban.
At quarter -to-eight on the dot, the drawing room fireplace erupted with bright green flames. Out of the flames stepped Arcturus Black, dressed in coal-black evening robes, a heavy, fur-lined cloak with a gold serpent-shaped clasp and a deep scowl which immediately fell to rest upon his grandson.
Sirius stood beside his mother before the fireplace, a mirror of the countless times throughout his childhood that he'd been put on display in this spot ready to await the inspection of whichever guest was expected to step out of the flames.
"Well?" said Sirius by way of greeting. He held up his arms, the material of his full sleeves hanging low like curtains. "Will I do, then?"
Arcturus ignored his grandson's impertinent tone and took several steps towards him, leaning heavily on his cane. Sirius hid his self-consciousness he felt under his grandfather's iron gaze with a cocky, impatient look.
At last, Arcturus gave a huff of approval.
"Presentable at last" he said. His eyes ran up and down Sirius's form, starting with his newly-cut hair and running down the length of the heavy robes draping his thin frame. His face twisted into a thoughtful frown. "Definitely need to get a bit more meat back on those bones but you will suffice, for now"
"A glowing review" Sirius replied sarcastically to his grandfather's remarks.
"We ought to go straight through," said Walburga, briskly. "I imagine we're all hungry"
"That elf of yours had better have learned to thicken a soup properly, by now" said Arcturus as he led the way towards the dining room. "It was thin as dishwater more often than not, if memory serves"
"Well, we can't have that, can we?" remarked Sirius as he trailed behind his grandfather. "Not going to get any meat back on my bones with dishwater- ah!"
His sarcastic smirk vanished, replaced with an annoyed scowl directed at his mother as he clutched the spot on his arm where his mother's wand had jabbed him with a short but sharp stinging hex.
"Behave" Walburga hissed under her breath.
"Don't I always?"
Sirius quickly turned away to evade the aim of a potential second hex and hurried out of the room after Arcturus.
If the Black patriarch had heard the exchange between mother and son right behind him, he gave no indication of it.
"Stop picking at your food, Sirius Orion, and eat it properly"
Sirius tightened his grip on his fork as it hovered over the chunks of beef he had been shuffling about his plate.
Any enjoyment that the delicious food had given his growling stomach had been quickly evaporated once he'd caught sight of the eagle-eyed watch Walburga was keeping over him as the meal progressed through its courses. Every time Sirius glanced up at his mother sitting opposite him, Walburga's gaze seemed to be fixed intently on him rather than on her own food. She would watch him carefully as he took a bite, only looking away once she was satisfied that he'd swallowed it.
It was stifling. Throughout the salad and soup courses, Sirius had found himself growing ever more reluctant to eat under his mother's intense gaze.
By the time the three were halfway through the main course of roast beef and vegetables, his irritation had driven away most of his appetite.
"I'm working on it" he mumbled, but continued to push the piece of beef around on his plate nonetheless. "There's too much of it, anyway. Why have I got so much more than you?"
Sirius gestured across to his mother's own plate, which did indeed contain significantly smaller helping of beef and vegetables than the amounts that had been heaped onto his own plate.
"Because it is good, nourishing food" Walburga said firmly, slicing her knife through a section of her own beef. "Which is precisely what you need at the moment. It's to build your strength up"
"Fattening me up like a pig for slaughter, more like"
Sirius shoved the chunk of beef he'd been toying with to the far end of his plate, all remaining enthusiasm for eating disappearing.
"You are free to phrase it in whichever way you please, boy, but the fact of the matter is that it is food that you need, and it is food that you will eat"
Arcturus's firm voice from the head of the table pulled Sirius's attention towards him. The patriarch had been more or less silent throughout the meal so far, and the whole table with him by default - a state which the sharp finality of his words assured that it was one he wished to return to as quickly as possible.
Unfortunately, Sirius never had been one for appeasing the wishes of others by default.
"Well, it's too much" he insisted, tossing down his fork. The silver clattered loudly against the china plate. Sirius felt a glimmer of satisfaction at the way his mother winced at the sound. "I can't finish it"
"Of course you can," Walburga said firmly, setting down her knife and fork on her plate. "Now stop this ridiculousness at once. You're behaving like a child" She took up her wine glass and took a sip. Her steely gaze remained fixed on Sirius over the golden rim of her glass.
Sirius took up his own glass and took a gulp, annoyed by the definite watered-down taste of the wine. He sincerely doubted that the glasses of his mother and grandfather suffered from the same affliction.
Clearly they don't trust me not to cause a scene, he mused to himself as he forced down the wine. Well, isn't that working out just wonderfully for them?
"Well perhaps if you stopped treating me like one then you might actually get what you want" he snapped. He shot a disgusted glance towards his wine glass before glaring back at his mother to prove his point. "I know when I've had enough to eat, and I have"
"Very well" Arcturus's attention was focused down at his plate as he sawed his way through a roast potato. "Then you'll sit there for however long it takes until you can finish it"
He popped a piece of potato into his mouth and looked across the table at Sirius. His eyes practically glimmered challengingly.
Sirius could feel his irritations growing. He glared daggers back at his grandfather. The pair's identical grey eyes were locked on each other, each daring the other to blink first.
In the end, it was Sirius who gave in.
"Fine" he snapped. "Have it your way. Just don't blame me when I throw the lot up all over the drawing room carpet later on"
"Don't talk of such things at the table" Walburga scolded. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she took up her knife and fork once again and focused her attention firmly downward at her food. "And in any case, I highly doubt that you will. I've ensured the food is not too rich for you"
Sirius turned from his mother to his grandfather. Arcturus had resumed work on his own food. Neither of them were paying Sirius any further attention.
Why was that so irritating?
He snatched up his fork and stabbed the chunk of beef on his plate. He slumped forward with his elbow against the table and his chin rested in his palm as he shoved the food into his mouth.
Sirius peered upwards at his mother as he chewed. Her gaze was still fixed firmly down at his plate. He began silently counting the seconds until the inevitable moment when she would look up and bark at him to correct his posture.
He swallowed the beef, mildly annoyed by the reminder of just how tasty the food was. A lifetime in service to a woman who would think nothing of ordering him to rap his own knuckles for an overcooked meat joint had made quite an expert cook out of Kreacher, and Sirius had forgotten just how perfectly the house elf knew to season a side of beef.
He immediately found himself wanting more.
Well at least it will shut the old man up, Sirius reasoned with himself as he shoved a second piece of beef into his mouth.
"Sirius Orion-"
"Thirty-one seconds!" Sirius declared, sitting up straight as his mother's scolding tone drew him out of his thoughts. "That's got to be something of a record"
After nearly an hour which felt more like an age, Sirius sighed with relief as Kreacher vanished their empty dessert plates.
"Thank Merlin for that," he said, tossing aside the napkin in his lap. "Right, I'll be off then, if that's alright with you"
The moment he pushed back his chair away from the table, a sharp flick from his grandfather's wand sent it sliding firmly back in again. Sirius briefly wondered how a man as stiff and old as his grandfather could whip out his wand so quick.
"That is most certainly not alright with me" said Arcturus. "It seems all that time in Azkaban has dulled your table manners. You leave the table when you're dismissed, and not a moment sooner"
Sirius rolled his eyes.
"If you'd care to notice, we've finished eating and the plates are gone. If that doesn't define the end of a meal, and therefore a time to leave, then I don't know what is. Or are you eyes going in your old age?"
"Be quiet, Sirius Orion!" Walburga hissed. Her expression was fierce, thought it softened to one which Sirius could almost call smug as she observed the way he flinched at her tone. "In any case, the meal may be over, but your business here is not"
Sirius felt his face pale as he recalled their earlier discussion.
"Business?" he scoffed dismissively. "What are you on ab-?"
"Don't you have something to tell your grandfather, Sirius?" Walburga prompted, arching an eyebrow expectantly.
Sirius stared across the table at her, his expression stony.
"No"
From the head of the table, Arcturus let out a snort of bemusement.
"If memory serves, a sudden lack of an impertinent reply from this particular whelp more often than not indicates that there is indeed something to be told, but that he'd rather not share it" he remarked. He leaned back in his chair and smiled - a gesture which did not spread far enough to warm the coldness in his eyes. "Well, then? Out with it, boy"
Sirius clenched his jaw tightly shut. He looked at his mother, a look of betrayed hatred to which she had the audacity to not look the least bit guilty in response. On the contrary, Walburga sat bold upright with her hands folded in her lap and a look of confident expectation aimed directly at her son.
Sirius looked away. He picked up his glass and took a gulp of wine, partly to buy himself a few precious seconds of thinking time and part to try and eek at least a drop of Dutch courage out of the disgraceful watered-down affair he'd been lumbered with.
"What's wrong, boy? Cat got your tongue?"
Sirius coughed and choked on a drop of wine at Arcturus's unknowingly touchy remark.
"Not exactly" he muttered as he cleared his throat. He stared down at his lap. He didn't think he could bear to look at the no doubt triumphant smirk on Walburga's face at his reaction to his grandfather's unintentionally touchy words.
"Perhaps we ought to withdraw to the drawing room" Walburga suggested. At the sound of her surprisingly even tone, Sirius looked up. His mother's face was blank, the very image of composure.
"Yes, let's" Arcturus agreed, getting to his feet. "Whatever this great secret is, one feels a brandy may be needed before learning of it, if it concerns him"
"Charming" Sirius murmured as he trailed after his grandfather and mother out of the dining room.
Sat around the roaring fire in the drawing room, one could excuse the scene for one of pleasant, family domesticity, on first glance. But upon closer inspection, each of the three wore a distinct frown; Arcturus of cautious expectation, Walburga of stern warning, Sirius of determined stubbornness.
Once Kreacher had served each of them with a glass of brandy and had bowed out of the room, Sirius lifted his glass to his nose and gave a sniff.
"Seems to be full strength, this time" he remarked. "Unless you've somehow managed to cast a spell on the glass that waters this down until it's piss-weak as well?"
"Watch your tone, boy!" Arcturus barked from the armchair across from his grandson. "Now, come on, out with it. What is this great secret you have to tell? I suppose it concerns the great matter?"
"If by 'great matter' you mean the reason I ended up in prison, then yes, I suppose so"
"It's a little more certain than that, Sirius" Walburga added pointedly from the sofa directly before the fireplace, between the two wizards.
"Will the pair of you cease speaking in damned riddles and tell me what in Salazar's name is going on?" Arcturus snapped loudly, giving his cane a firm thump against the floor.
"I'm an Animagus" Sirius blurted out. The mixture of nerves and irritation churning away inside him had finally become too much to stomach, and the words shot out of him like the top of a kettle left to boil for too long.
He took a deep, steadying drink from his brandy glass.
"Happy now?"
The gnarled hand gripping Arcturus's cane began to shake. His pale face reddened, the corner of his mouth twitching.
"You're a what?" he seethed.
"Christ, do I really have to say it again?" Sirius slumped back in his chair, swilling the brandy in his glass in a bored manner. His reflection stared back at him. Even mingled in the flicker of the flames, he could see the unease in his own eyes, clear as day. "I'm an Animagus. That's the big secret"
Now he'd done it. Any minute now, his grandfather's notorious temper which Sirius had always seemed to have a special talent for provoking, would rear its ugly head and tear into him. He was going to need another brandy, Sirius mused to himself as he took another gulp.
"And when precisely did this… development, come about?"
Sirius was taken aback by how composed Arcturus's voice was. Calm, yes, though no less dangerous. It was a talent that all of his family, save himself, seemed to have a natural ability to pull off with irritating prowess.
Well, except her, of course.
Sirius's gaze wandered in the direction of his mother, who was watching the exchange between the two of them with careful attention.
"There's no point looking to your mother for help out of this" Arcturus's snarl drew Sirius's attention back to him. "Now, give me the details, you little whelp. When did you accomplish this feat?"
Sirius sighed. He really was going to have to tell the whole tale again. The old man wouldn't rest until he'd heard the lot, and Sirius found he rather wanted to get to bed at a somewhat reasonable hour. Just a few short hours with Arcturus Black had proven rather exhausting.
"I was fifteen" he murmured, staring into the fireplace. "End of Fourth Year, at Hogwarts"
Sirius didn't need to look up at his grandfather to know that the old wizard was livid.
"Fifteen?!"
Arcturus rose to his feet and marched across the room to stand before Sirius's chair. The old man in his somewhat hunched state was easily a few inches shorter than his grandson, though in Sirius's sat-down position, he seemed to tower over the younger man imposingly.
And somehow, Sirius couldn't quite bring himself to stand.
"I presume I am correct when I say that your being an Animagus is directly linked to Pettigew also being one?"
An instant change came over Sirius at the mention of the rat's name. His blood ran cold, his hackles raised, and his senses sharpened. If he'd been Padfoot, he would have growled on reflex.
"That rat would never have managed it if it weren't for me" Sirius's voice was low. Low and harsh.
Arcturus let out a short laugh.
"Is that so?" he asked, mockingly. "I suppose you think yourself rather clever, then, do you?"
"So I've been told"
"Well certainly not by me" The thin, humorous veil masking Arcturus's anger was pulled away, discarded in one lightning-quick move. "You're foolish. A foolish, insolent, reckless idiot. Only you would be stupid enough to attempt such a dangerous feat unsupervised - and whilst still at school!"
Arcturus paused to suck in a deep breath. He looked away from his scowling grandson, staring into the flames as he shook his head firmly before turning back to Sirius.
"Suppose you'd been caught!" Arcturus continued his tirade. "Were you clever enough to think of that, hmm? A Black, expelled from Hogwarts… The shame!"
"We were careful-"
"Silence!"
Sirius flinched - partially at the sound of his grandfather's fury, and partially due to the drops of spittle fired towards him as the old man roared down at him.
"I don't give a damn how careful you were" Arcturus seethed. "The fact still remains that you were selfish enough to risk this family's reputation for your own folly. Attempting dangerous magic, beyond your years-"
"Well it clearly wasn't quite so beyond my years, considering I was successful"
The weight of Arcturus's scorn was finally too much for Sirius to bear. A wave of energy overcame him, spurring him on to fight back at last.
"Oh?" Arcturus's eyebrows raised, an expectant look on his creased face. "Successful, were you? Well then, out with it, boy. Transform"
"No," said Sirius. A feeble attempt at resistance, but he'd be damned if he didn't go down fighting.
"Sirius, do as your grandfather says" Walburga's stern voice only succeeded in ruffling Sirius's feathers further.
"No" he snapped. "I don't feel like it"
Sirius drained the rest of his brandy and slammed the glass down on the side table. He folded his arms across his chest in a defensive position.
"I don't give a damn what you feel like, boy" Arcturus glared down at his grandson threateningly. "I've told you to transform, now do it"
"I'm not one of your bloody house elves. You can't order me to do anything"
Arcturus let out a haughty huff of disbelief.
"On the contrary, as head of this family I assume command over any and all insolent whelps within it-"
Sirius winced automatically at the term 'whelp', a move which did not go unnoticed by Arcturus's eyes - surprisingly keen for a wizard of his years. On the contrary, Sirius noted with dread that the patriarch's grey gaze suddenly seemed to glimmer with liveliness in anticipation.
"-and I may demand whatever I require of them" Arcturus continued. "And what I require is to see you transform. Now, get on with it"
"Sirius Orion-"
"Alright!" Sirius snapped, jumping to his feet. "I'll do it. Just- back off a bit"
"Oh?" Arcturus cocked his head with bemused curiosity, though he stepped back a few paces nonetheless. "And what, pray tell, do you transform into that requires such space?"
"A honey badger"
From the sofa, Walburga frowned deeply at what she knew to be a blatant lie.
"Indeed?" Arcturus looked cautiously curious, clearly not entirely convinced. "A rather small creature"
"Perhaps" Sirius couldn't keep the corner of his mouth from creased upward. "But they do hunt snakes"
The bruise that the butt of his grandfather's cane had undoubtedly left on his shin, even through the thick material of Sirius's robes, was worth the brief moment of enjoyment Sirius got from the irritated look on Arcturus's face as the joke dawned upon him.
"I've had more than enough of your ridiculous remarks for one day, boy" Arcturus practically growled. "Now stop this dithering, and transform!"
"Alright, alright" Sirius conceded with a sigh. He closed his eyes and focused his mind, digging deep inside himself for the power to transform. He envisioned his four legs, his tail, a coat of thick, black fur and the heightened senses of a dog.
"My my. I must admit, that is remarkable"
Arcturus's voice rang with a sharp, new intensity through Sirius's head. He felt his ears twitch as every minute sound in the room suddenly blared loud and clear through them. He gave his head a shake, feeling the fur around his neck rustle. He always needed a moment or two to acclimatise to the far more superior hearing of his dog form.
He opened his eyes - Padfoot's eyes - and blinked hard as he adjusted to what he saw. In the far more limited canine colour palette, even familiar surroundings looked slightly alien for a moment or two.
"I can't say I'm surprised, of course. What with the name you were granted, I expected nothing less"
Sirius's attention fixed on the old wizard stood before him. A mixture of smells flooded through his nose as he looked up at the man. The information coded within them swam through his canine mind.
Pipe tobacco. Old parchment. Cunning. ENEMY.
He growled on instinct. His crouched low, his hackles raised, ready for a fight.
"Sirius Orion Black! Do not growl at your grandfather"
Sirius's attention diverted away from Arcturus to across the room to where Walburga had risen from her seat.
Rosewater. Silk. Anger. Mother?
He instinctively found himself backing down, instantly cowed by that voice. He sat back on his haunches, his ears pressed flat to his head, and let out a low whine.
Above him, Arcturus gave a snort of amusement.
"Really, now. Such a potentially impressive-looking creature and you elect to ruin it by putting on the image of a sulky mutt" .
Sirius glared, as well as a dog could glare, and pressed his ears further back against his head.
"The errant pup within finally reveals himself" Arcturus mused thoughtfully. "I must say, that really is a rather impressive specimen. A tad scrawny yet, but still, no matter. Nothing that can't be fixed"
Sirius burned indignantly. The old man was commenting on him as though he were one of his prized crups!
He let out a sharp bark and sprang to his feet, breaking into a trot as he headed for the door. He was done here.
The drawing room door slammed shut in his face.
"You were not dismissed," said Arcturus, sharply. "Come back here"
Sirius hesitated for a moment, considering. Why didn't he just turn back, open the door and get out of here?
Because the old man won't let up until he's done with you. Just do as he says, it will get rid of him faster.
Sirius skulked back across the room and shrank into an inelegant hunched sitting position.
"Don't look so sullen, it's unbecoming," said Arcturus.
The wizard took a step forward towards the dog and Sirius flinched, ears twitching in a moment of uncertainty.
"Stand up" Arcturus ordered. "Let me get a proper look at you"
Sirius obeyed. His eyes followed Arcturus with distrust as he circled around him, peering closely at his dog form.
"Remarkable size" he could hear the old man murmuring in a low voice to himself. "And what would be an impressive coat, with proper grooming"
Sirius suddenly realised that his coat actually felt rather lighter than it had the last time he could recall transforming, in Azkaban. He no longer felt quite so weighed down by the thick tangles of his fur. Most likely the result of his mother hacking away the matts, he reasoned. He supposed that the afternoon's dreaded hair cut had proven useful in some way, at least.
He was yanked abruptly out of his thoughts by the feeling of fingers wrapping tightly around his snout.
He jerked away from Arcturus with a sharp yip, snapping at the air.
"Don't you dare snap at me, mutt" Arcturus snarled, threateningly. "Come back here and let me have a proper look at you"
Sirius whined indignantly, but did as he was bade. He willed himself to remain calm as he endured his grandfather's inspection. Arcturus tilted his head to and fro, examining it from all angles. Sirius rather impressed himself with the extent of his own tolerance, but when the old man tried to lift his lip up to get a look at his teeth, Sirius had well and truly reached his limit.
"Do you mind?!" he snapped barely a second after he had lurched backwards out of Arcturus's grasp and transformed back into human form. "I'm not one of your bloody show crups!"
Arcturus, to his surprise, did not match his anger. On the contrary, he looked rather bemused by his grandson's outraged display.
"For once I cannot disagree with you" he said. "You would make a terrible shower. You'd never hold still on the podium"
From the centre of the room where Walburga had been watching, hawk-eyed, there came a slight chuckle.
Sirius's ears burned as the noise hit him as sharply as if he'd still had his canine hearing.
"Well I'm glad you both find this so amusing but I'm afraid I fail to see the punch line myself" Sirius turned away from them both and marched towards the door. "So, if that was all-"
"That was not all" Arcturus snapped. "Come back here"
Sirius sighed and walked back across the room as sullenly in human form as he had as a dog.
"Tell me - precisely how long were you intending on keeping this secret from us?"
Sirius mumbled something unintelligible.
"Speak up, boy"
"I didn't see how it was relevant"
"You didn't see how it was relevant?"
A tense silence filled the room, broken eventually by a displeased snort from the elder wizard.
"Truly, boy, what is the matter with you?" Arcturus asked, exasperated. "Are you really that much of an imbecile that you cannot see how much your fate rests on every scrap of information we can gather?"
"Well given that my fate rests entirely on how I choose to plead and that my decision to plead guilty remains unchanged, I hardly see how anything I choose to keep private is of any value to you"
"Sirius-!"
Walburga's outraged shout was drowned out by Arcturus's own fury.
"You insolent, ungrateful little-!"
"Oh give it a bloody rest, will you?" Sirius shouted back. "I've made my mind up, and nothing you can say is going to persuade me to change it. And you may as well forget about asking me to transform again, because it's not happening. Padfoot is mine, the only bit of privacy I have left in this Godforsaken prison of a-"
"Padfoot?" Arcturus asked, sharply. "Who is Padfoot?"
Sirius paused, caught out.
"It's just- A name. A name for when we-"
"You named your Animagus form?" Arcturus arched an eyebrow, amused.
"Yes" Sirius replied, defensively. "What's wrong with that?"
"If I didn't believe you were telling the truth when you told me you acquired this skill when you were a child, I certainly do now"
Sirius felt his ears redden as Arcturus chuckled.
"Might I assume that Pettigrew also had a name for his Animagus form?"
"We all did" Sirius clenched his fists hard in an attempt to control the rage which that name never failed to spark within him.
"All? Who else was involved in this idiotic scheme?"
"The Potter boy" Walburga added.
"James" Sirius hissed. "Will you stop calling him that?"
"Mind your tone, boy" Arcturus warned. "You are in no position to be giving cheek, with what you've done"
"What I've done?!" Sirius was well and truly at the end of his tether. "All I've done is elect to keep private something which quite frankly has nothing to do with you, or this poxy bloody trial you insist on wasting your money and effort on!"
He'd done it now. Arcturus had turned an ugly shade of red. His usually cold eyes were aflame with anger. He took one long step forward and withdrew his wand from his robes, brandishing at his grandson with a noise halfway between a roar and a growl.
Sirius flinched away, bracing himself for whatever was to come.
"Enough!"
The loud, piercing shout from Walburga drew the attention of both men away from each other and towards her. She stood, poised like a cat prepared to pounce with her own wand brandished. Not, Sirius realised with surprise, at him.
At Arcturus.
Like a moment frozen in time, none of them moved for several seconds. When, at last, Arcturus broke the suspense by lowering his wand, the action seemed to break both Walburga and Sirius each out of their own frozen states.
"I think-" says Walburga, her voice icy as she slowly replaced her own wand. "That is quite enough for one day. We will discuss this matter further another time. Sirius-"
Sirius meekly looked up at her, feeling rather self-conscious at having been seen cowering before his aged grandfather.
"It is time you went to bed. You are tired"
Walburga's voice was firm. It left no room for any suggestion of an argument to be had.
In any case, Sirius had had rather enough argument for one day. Both his body and his head ached.
"Fine" he said, simply. "Goodnight"
Without waiting for a reply from his mother, and taking care to deliberately avoid his grandfather's furious gaze, Sirius strode from the room with his head held defiantly high.
It was only once he had arrived back in the sanctuary of his bedroom with the door firmly shut behind him that he allowed himself to take a deep, deflating breath out. He leaned against the door, feeling his hands begin to shake as he processed the evening's events.
He loathed himself for giving up his Animagus secret to Arcturus. His mother knowing about Padfoot was one thing, but his grandfather was another entirely. He burned with indignation when he recalled how Arcturus had looked at him - had inspected him like one of his damned show dogs - and vowed to himself never to submit to such a thing ever again.
If he wants to do it again, you know he will. There's no escaping it.
Sirius ran his hands through his hair, pulling at the short, silky locks with frustration the voice of reason ran through his mind.
After all, what are you going to do - run away?
Sirius let out a loud groan and flung himself down onto the bed. He stared up at the canopy, the same one he had stared up at countless times throughout his teenage years after a row with his family. His eyes felt heavy. He was worn out. He wanted nothing more than to retreat back inside the safe, simple mind of Padfoot and curl up under the bed for the night.
Remembering his mother's threat to stand over him every night and watch him take the sleeping draught, however, he quickly realised that this particular escape was out of the question. The last possible escape.
It may have been eight years since he'd last lay here, silently fuming after what he viewed as the latest injustice against him, but Sirius felt just as keenly the sense that the four walls of the house were closing in on him, the ceiling lowering and the floor rising up - leaving him impossibly trapped.
Except this time, the only escape led directly from this one prison straight to another.
And for the life of him, Sirius couldn't decide which of the two was worse than the other.