Chapter 5

I can tell I've rotted in your brain

I'm guessing that I've grown horns,

I guess I'm human no more;

I can tell I've rotted in your brain.

Monster, dodie

Sirius stared back at James's hospital bed, hand on the handle of the door. It was late at night, and Sirius had found himself sitting in the chair by his best friend's bed. The longer he sat there, the angrier he had gotten.

Sirius wasn't an idiot. He knew that at least one of his 'family' members had been involved in the attack which had left James lying in a bed at St. Mungo's. He knew there was a war brewing; he had known it for years, but it was different when it was shoved in your face like that.

His teeth were clenched and his jaw strained when he thought about it. How come it was always the good people, the people like James, that ended up getting hurt? In a flash, Sirius was up out of the seat and pacing the width of the room. He had to do something.

Which lead him to where he was now, facing the door, but staring back at James. Resolve made up, he turned back and strode out the door. Out of the hospital and out in the fresh air, it was easier to think clearer. A voice in his head, one that sounded suspiciously like James Potter, was trying to convince him to go back to the hospital.

But in the end, Sirius's impulsive side took over and he found himself in front of his house. Just looking at it made him shiver. It was dark and gloomy and grim and not something most would associate with the word 'home'. Since it was late, Sirius was hoping his family were asleep, his brain making a last ditch effort to stop what he was about to do.

He pushed open the door and had only taken a step inside when he heard his mother. "Sirius is that you?" she called, her voice already giving away her anger.

"Yes!" Sirius called back, not caring how loud he was. He tried to reclaim some of the anger he had felt at St. Mungo's. One thing you couldn't show Walburga Black was fear.

The door to the kitchen was thrown open and Sirius stared down the hall to his mother, who was standing in the doorway. "Where were you? We were worried sick about you!"

Sirius scoffed, and felt some of his bravery return to him. "I'm sure you were," he replied sarcastically.

"Get here!" she said, voice sharp.

Mustering up his confidence, he carried himself down the hall to stand in front of her. "Yes mother?"

He was met with a stinging slap across his cheek. "Don't talk back to me. Where were you?"

"I was at the hospital," Sirius replied, trying to keep his eyes from watering at the contact.

"The hospital?"

"James got injured. There was an attack in Diagon Alley." Sirius paused. "But I'm sure you know nothing about that, right?"

Walburga drew herself up to her full height. "And what are you implying?"

"I'm not an idiot mother."

Walburga let out a cold laugh. "You could have fooled me." If it had been James, or Remus, or Peter, or even one of the Gryffindor girls who had said that, Sirius probably would've laughed. But there was no teasing tone behind Walburga's insult.

"I know that some of my dear relatives had something to do with the attack in Diagon Alley," Sirius persisted.

"Excuse me?" Walburga asked, left eyebrow raising.

"James could've been killed. I could've been killed," Sirius said.

"And why would that matter to me?"

Sirius reeled back like he had been slapped again. He knew that his mother didn't like him; hated him even. But to hear from her own mouth that she wouldn't care if he died? It made it seem even realer. "Because I am your son!" Sirius's voice became raised.

"You are no son of mine!" Walburga replied, equally as loud. "I may have raised you, but you have shown me time and time again that you don't wish to belong to this family. Running along with blood traitors and who even knows what."

Sirius thought about James, who his mother was referring to, and to Remus, who his mother would have a fit about if she knew he was a werewolf, and Peter, who was not a pureblood, and therefore, not good enough in Walburga's eyes. They were more family to him than this woman had ever been. "I hate you!" Sirius screamed.

The punch came fast, landing on the other cheek than the slap had. Her ring cut across his cheekbone, and when his hand went up to touch his face, his fingers came away wet. "When you are in my house," Walburga began, voice like steel, "you will follow my rules. You will come back when I tell you to, you will do what I tell to and, most importantly, you will not talk back to me. Is that understood?"

Sirius stared at his mother. Sirius was was tall enough- not nearly as tall as James or Remus, but taller than Peter- but slightly taller than average. His mother had always been a tall woman, leaving the mother and son to be the same height. He stared into his mother's face and saw no trace of emotion there. No love- never love- but no anger either. Nothing to show she cared, or that she felt any way other than indifferent towards him.

"Is that understood?" Walburga repeated, voice slightly louder.

Sirius stared for half a second longer, before nodding. "I understand."

"Good. No go up to your room and I better not hear a sound out of you."

Without saying another word to his mother, Sirius turned and left the kitchen, both cheeks stinging. He could feel some blood trailing down the side of his face where Walburga's ring had cut him. Sirius paused at the bottom of the stairs and glanced back at the kitchen. The door was closed now, and the light was spilling through the gap between the bottom of the door and the floor. He had never liked his house; it was too cold and dark to ever be considered a home. But now, standing here, knowing he may never be back, he thought he might just miss the dusty interior.

At the top of the stairs, Sirius was about to open the door to his room when another bedroom door opened. "Sirius?" Regulus asked groggily.

"Shhh," Sirius hissed, before dragging Regulus into his room. "Don't be so loud Reg, you'll get me into more trouble.

"What's happening? Why are you bleeding?" Regulus asked, rubbing at his eyes.

"Mother's ring cut me," Sirius said grimly.

"Where were you?"

"Diagon Alley. You know that," Sirius answered, reaching under his bed to pull out his trunk.

"Yeah, but why are you back so late?"

"There was an attack. James is in hospital."

Regulus was not a fan of James Potter, who he knew from his parents, was a blood traitor. But his curiosity won over. "What happened to him?"

"He got attacked by a Death Eater. Probably one of our dear cousins," Sirius laughed coldly.

"What are you doing?" Regulus asked, noticing that Sirius was throwing all his things haphazardly into the trunk.

"I can't stay here Reg."

"So, what? You're just going to leave me here?"

"You can come with me."

"Oh? And where would we go?" Regulus asked disbelievingly.

"To James's. Or Uncle Alphard's. I don't know, somewhere other than here."

Regulus's lips curled in disgust at the mention of James's name. "No thanks, I'd rather not stay with a blood traitor," he said primly.

"And yet, you want to stay here?" Sirius asked, now attempting to close his trunk.

"I like it here," Regulus replied, nose in the air.

Sirius paused. "How could anyone like it here?" he asked quietly.

"Your problem is that you don't listen. If you just follow mother's rules, you'd find it's quite easy to live here."

"And what if I don't want to follow mother's rules? What if I don't agree with them?"

Regulus shrugged. "Then you keep your mouth shut.

Sirius turned around to look at Regulus, who was now sitting stiffly on the end of Sirius's bed. "Look. You and I both know that I'm not exactly wanted here. Being put into Gryffindor was the last straw, and that was almost six years ago. I'm surprised I lasted this long to be honest. If you want to come with me, that's fine. But don't tell me that if I kept my mouth shut that I'd enjoy living here."

"It's your own fault that you were put into Gryffindor," Regulus said coldly, examining his nails.

Sirius laughed manically. "You can't choose what house you get sorted into. The hat does that, for Merlin's sake. I didn't ask to be sorted into Gryffindor, but you know what? I'm glad I was. This family is a nightmare, and it's amazing that you still believe the lies mother and father are telling you."

"Lies like what?" Regulus scoffed.

"Like purebloods are the only ones who should have magic. If that was true, then purebloods would be the only ones with magic. But they're not. Muggleborns have just as much magic as purebloods, and you and I both know it."

"Mudbloods stole magic from us," Regulus insisted.

"How?" Sirius asked, pulling at his hair. "How could a young child steal magic? If you could steal magic, we wouldn't have muggles. And don't use that word, it's disgusting."

"Since when have you become such good friends with mudbloods?" Regulus asked, putting an emphasis on the term in order to frustrate his brother.

"Since when did you become a puppet for mother and father's hate?" Sirius spat back, going back to pushing the trunk closed.

"I am not a puppet," Regulus replied, offended, standing up now.

"You are literally incapable of forming independent thought."

Regulus bristled. "Just because I'm younger than you, or was sorted into the same house as the rest of the family, doesn't mean I'm incapable of forming independent thought."

"The fact that you are literally repeating word-for-word what we've both heard mother and father say on countless occasions is what makes you incapable of forming independent thought." Sirius paused. "So, if you're not going to come with me, can you at least get out of my way?"

Regulus stared at his older brother, jaw tense. Nobody said anything for a few seconds, but finally Regulus moved out of the way. "If they ask, you know nothing about this," Sirius warned. Regulus scoffed, but Sirius spoke before he could say anything. "It'll be better for you, trust me. How do you think they'd react if they found out you knew I was leaving and didn't say anything?"

It was this sentiment that hung in the air as Sirius left his room for the last time and walked slowly down the stairs, both so as not to attract attention, and because his trunk was heavy. It was raining when he finally left the house, which figured, but the air was so much clearer than it was in the house. Sirius took a deep breath and one last look at the house, before going.

His journey back to St. Mungo's was uneventful. It was late enough that there were hardly any people around to see a bleeding teenager lugging around a large trunk. Sirius is completely soaked when he arrives back at St. Mungo's, and some of the staff do give him strange looks, but he ignores them.

When he arrives at James's room, he pushes open the door softly and steps inside, trying to stop his shoes from squelching with all the water they've absorbed. He lowers the trunk down on the floor, making sure it doesn't land with a thud, and moves to sit in the chair next to James's bed. It's dark in the room, but he manages not to bump into anything. He flops into the chair and takes in a deep breath. He doesn't like being in wet clothes, but he's too bone tired to do anything about it.

"Sirius?" James mumbles beside him.

"Yeah?" Sirius replies, equally as quiet.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Sirius said, with a sort of realisation. "Yeah, I am," he repeats.

"That's good." And with that, James rolls over in his bed and falls back asleep almost immediately.

"Yeah, I am," Sirius says into the gloom.