So this is the beginning; this incredibly short chapter has been posted to see how well this idea will be received.If you can leave a review, that would be appreciated.
I never received my Hogwarts letter and I don't own Harry Potter, such is life.
Grimmauld Place was quiet that Saturday afternoon.
It was not unusual for the heir of the Ancient and Noble House of Black to be palmed off to a reluctant house elf - after all, it was no secret the boy could make mischief - so the toddler found nothing strange about that.
The oddness came from the silence that filled the townhouse.
His parents, rarely a couple to keep their many, many disagreements quiet, hadn't appeared for breakfast that morning. Much to the confusion of their son, they didn't show up for lunch either.
The two adults gave affection sparingly, of course - the boy's mother often reminding him that "cuddles and kisses are for babies, Sirius Orion, are you a baby?" - but they would often show face at family meals, if only to remind the boy of his shortcomings, even at such a young age. It was clear with the way he held himself painfully straight in his dining chair - "good posture is one of the first giveaways of proper breeding, and the Black family is pure."
Sirius could barely contain his questions, but he just managed. The family elf, Kreacher - older than even the Black patriarch - had very little patience for the two-year-old. He often grumbled that the spare had better be more fitting of the family name than Sirius, a comment that sometimes resulted in the elf ironing his own hands in punishment. If Sirius had to sit with the elf in silence to avoid being spat at, he would do so.
Their clear dislike for one another had started from the day the heir was born. Sirius was just as difficult as a baby could be - screaming and crying during the night, which meant Kreacher was called on to try and quieten him. With the baby tugging and yanking at the elf's ears, so much so they eventually drooped further than they originally did, the bond between elf and boy was never formed.
A door opening upstairs broke the staring contest Sirius was locked in with the elf, the boy sticking out his tongue when Kreacher quietly popped over to the dining room door. The brisk pace coming down the stairs was definitely that of his father's, only confirmed when he passed by the dining room door with a brief glance at his son. The boy didn't move at all, just stared after his father with his hands clasped on top of the table, elbows pinched to his sides. Reacting was a quick way to get a cane to the palm.
The elf left the room, hopping after Orion in clear desperation for a different task than caring for Sirius. His babbling was cut short with a yelp, followed by whispered apologies of "sorry master, Kreacher will be quiet for his master".
There was rattling in the kitchen, pots and pans hitting the floor, and Sirius wished he could see what was going on. Orion Black was usually a stoic man, so frazzled sounds coming from the other room just didn't fit his persona.
"Orion!"
The boy clamped his hands over his ears at the shrill scream of his mother upstairs, too loud not to be enhanced by magic. How he missed the silence of minutes ago.
The noise from the kitchen stopped, his father's steps sounding again. He crossed the dining room door once more, followed by Kreacher whose arms were towered high with towels, before heading up the stairs. Sirius had to stifle his giggles at the sight of the old elf bowing under the weight of bundles and bundles of fabric.
His mother's wailing continued, thankfully getting quieter - his father had probably reached her - but the silence never returned. Sirius slid down in his chair, relaxing into his solitude for the time being, and tried to block the sound of his mother's cries. Some may have thought he lacked empathy, but that was Walburga's doing anyway; once again, it came down to the pureblood etiquette.
Screaming came again, but louder and more drawn out. It cut off suddenly, a short silence before a sound came that Sirius had only ever heard from the wriggling babies his mother's friends brought over during their biweekly afternoon tea.
A squalling cry meant a baby, Sirius knew that, and it definitely wasn't an afternoon tea day.
The boy slouched further in his chair, slipping on to the floor before rolling out from under the table and shuffling towards the door. His cousins were siblings, the three of them often dressed in matching dresses and stood behind their parents at family gatherings. Sirius wasn't sure he even wanted to wear a matching outfit, definitely not a dress like the ones Andy, Bella, and Cissa worn.
The crying from upstairs had stopped, shushing noises being heard instead, before his mother's shriek returned. This time it sounded worse, less pained and more terrified. Sirius knelt at the bottom of the stairs, eyes wide as he stared up. As strict as his mother was, he didn't want her to be scared.
But just as he moved to climb up the stairs, a second sharp, squalling cry sounded.