Chapter 2

"Master?" he heard the whispering of Kreacher. "The dinner is ready!"

Sirius sprang out of the bed, cursing. Now he would be late for dinner and the first argument with his mother was already going to be this evening.

"I'll come soon. Tell my mother I have to get ready first." He would be late either way, so he could at least change clothes before dinner. That way he felt better than in the ones he had already worn on the train and while sleeping. He went to open the cupboard. For a moment he considered taking one of the red-golden robes, with the symbol of Gryffindor, but then decided to take a simple black one, with silver buckles.

Reminding his mother that he was the first Black in a long line who was in Gryffindor instead of Slytherin could lead to an even more unpleasant evening. Although, he had to admit with a wry smile, that would be difficult.

He quickly changed into the new robe, went to his bathroom, and put some cold water into his face, to get rid of the sleepy look. He stared at himself in the mirror, and started talking. "Okay, you're away from your friends, with this family, your mother who will surely remind you that you're a disgrace for the noble house of Black." This was said with a loathing sneer, "and that your little brother promises to be sooo much better..." he straightened himself, and his blue eyes suddenly sparkled again with the mischief, he was famous for among his friends. "Let's go!"

When he came down in the salon, he had to suppress a groan. At the table sat his mother and his brother, Regulus. And his mother looked ready to kill. With all the false politeness and cheerfulness he could muster, he went into the room. "Good evening, mother, Regulus! I hope you had a good time since last holidays" – just a pleasantry, if anything had gone wrong for the family, he would've gotten message – "Please excuse that I'm late, I just wanted to rest a little, and fell asleep. I take it, father's still in the office?" Saying this while sitting down, he winced, that had been a wrong word. And considering his mother's face, that was enough to start lecture number – he had honestly stopped to count, as well as listening.

His mother looks as if she had bitten into a lemon. "I'm well, thank you, and how often do I have to tell you not to call your father's work chamber an office? He has still something to do for the ministry, but he will join us soon. And how was your time? Are you still hanging around with those... friends of yours?" She said this with a distasteful expression.

His friends, point of argument number one with his mother, closely followed by her opinion about muggle-borns, the nobility of pure blood, and some other topics.

"Why don't you look for "fitting" company, like for example the boy of the Malfoys? Your brother at least knows what he owes his name, although he could work harder..." Sirius registered this comment about his brother with awe. His grades must've really gotten bad, when his mother mentioned it in front of him. Normally no one was allowed to say something bad about her favourite son. "And now I heard that you not only walk around with this Potter-boy, and those others, but with mudbloods, too. Please stop this, or we will have to think about sending you to another school. Since this Dumbledore" - another sneer – "became headmaster of Hogwarts, the school went completely downhill."

Insulting Dumbledore was just too much. Now Sirius could keep no longer quiet. "If you dislike me and my friends that much, I won't bother you with my presence any longer. Goodbye!"

With this he stood up, and stormed into his room, ignoring his mother's calls to "come back and behave".

Arriving in his room, he closed the door, and leaned against it, catching his breath and calming down. He just couldn't bear it anymore. He only wanted to leave. But where to go?

James would be his first answer, he would surely help him, but what would James' parents say? He had never met them, as his parents had insisted on him spending the holidays at home. But he was convinced they would let him at least stay for the night, and tomorrow... tomorrow he'd find some other place.

With this in mind he started packing his things together. As he had no intention of coming back – if possible not ever – he was careful to get everything precious to him: his books, his broomstick, although he would probably use it to get to James, the photos of his friends, and his robes, and all the little presents that were reminder of his friends, or one of his tolerable relatives.