Chapter 1: Introductions.
My twin sister Adhara and I were born on New Year's Day in 1961. My mother, Fiona Black, died a short time after I was born. I was told she was so weak after giving birth to me she had no strength left. It was only one of the lies my life was based on.
Anyway my father, Orion Black, was left to raise me and my sister alone. He named me Sirius, and my sister Adhara , both stars in the Canis Major constellation, unusual names for a muggle, my dad liked unusual things. I guess that's why he married my mother. He also had a sense of humor. You see, my middle name is Lee. Sirius Lee Black. Told you he was odd, didn't I?
We lived quietly, in a small cottage about a mile from our small town of Hunstanton in Devon. It was modest, but it suited our needs just fine. After all, it was only my father, my sister, I, and whatever stray I'd picked up this week. I had a thing for animals; always have, and I would bring home every wet and bedraggled creature I could find. We had cats, rabbits, birds, and dogs. Always dogs. Even at a young age, I loved dogs.
The cottage was really not very big, only five rooms, Dad's study and bedroom, the kitchen, lavs, downstairs and our bedroom upstairs, but it was average for our area. We lived in South West Devonshire. One mile to the east was the town; one mile to the west was Dartmoor. Because of that, our village was not what you would call a city. My school had about thirty kids in it all together.
Since my mother died when I was born, I never had a mother, though later both Mrs. Potter and Mrs. Lupin would try to fill that place. I only had a father. My father, Orion Sirius Black, was tall with dark green eyes, like the moss growing on the ancient ruins all around us. Addi had his eyes. He had light reddish hair, streaked with gray. He was young, but something, though he always joked that it was us, had caused his hair to gray early. My father was always one for good grades. Addi brought them home, I did not. Though he pushed for me to do better, I did not. After a while, and after several meetings with my teachers, all telling him that I "did not apply myself," and "was disruptive in class," he did not bother me so much, though he never gave up on me.
He loved nothing more than the first snow of the season. Every year, during the first snow, be in during school or not, he would wake us up extra early and bundle us up. We would go and play all day, making snowmen, snow angels, having snowball fights, endless hours of enjoyment. Then, long after it grew dark, he would drag us back inside and give us each a hot mug of tea. We'd climb into our warm wool pajamas and curl up by the roaring fire. He'd sit in his armchair, put on his reading glasses and a book and he would read to us long into the night. That is my fondest memory of him, sitting in that worn old chair, his reading glasses sliding down his nose while he was too enraptured by the story to push them back up, his voice rising and falling with the ebb and flow of the story. He read us the fairy tales, the classics, King Arthur, endless tales of magic and adventure, perhaps trying to give us clues about what was to come.
Addi and I shared a room upstairs. Our small cottage only held five rooms, as previously stated and the largest was a single loft in the upstairs of the house. That is where my sister and I spent our nights. For many years, we shared a bed, for even when we grew older, we would still slip into each other's beds late at night. For there was one thing that scared us more than anything else in the world. Thunderstorms.
I know, I don't seem the type to be frightened by such a trivial part of nature, but it scared me more than anything. The lighting made me feel cold and shaky, thunder left me pale and weak. I couldn't have explained it, neither could Addi. It was simply something that frightened us. Many times, when we heard the distant rumblings that foretold storms, we would rush out of bed and fly into my father's room and burrow deep in his arms, trying to hide from the fierce tempest. Even at thirteen, we still crawled into his bed to hide from our half-remembered nightmares or half imagined memories.
Now no matter what anyone says, my father loved us. He loved us more than anything else in the world. If Addi and Siri wanted to play, then he dropped everything to take us out onto the moor and show us the ancient ruins of our ancestors or come up with some new and exciting game. We were his whole life. He used to call me his brightest star. Addi was his princess and I was his shining star. We were a family, just the three of us.
I often, in the course of my years in that village, heard Dad's friends tell him to remarry, to settle down, to move on, get a mother for us, but he never did. Mum, he said, had been his one true love, and that love only comes around once in a lifetime.
"You don't find that kind of love twice." He told them. It is so. Though I loved Erin, she is no longer a part of my life. I've accepted that and I've moved on. But when I met Mari, I knew. I knew everything in the instant I looked into her large blue eyes and saw myself reflected in them. I knew and I understood exactly what my father meant all those years ago.
People thought we were strange, living that far out by ourselves, but we managed. Dad was the village doctor, and well liked, and so the people put up with us. My father, though never lacking in friends, never seemed to have them over. They always went to the town pub to talk and pass the time.
In fact, the only visitor we ever seemed to have was a strange old man who would show up perhaps once a year, greet us as if he'd seen us only the other day, bring us strange gifts that were filled with all kinds of interesting candy you could never find anywhere, talk to my father for a few hours in which dad would send us to the store for milk, or simply tell us to go exploring or something. We were never allowed to sit in on those talks. And Dad would never discuss it afterwards. But by the time we'd returned, the old man would be gone. Dad would never talk about him or answer any questions, and the topic was put to rest until the next time the old man who dressed in robes appeared on our doorstep.
I had an alright childhood, I suppose. Addi, as we called her, was very different than me though we got on well. I did have one friend, Tommy. He and I played together as young children. He was richer than I was, much more privileged. His father was the mayor and they had a large house just outside the village. He didn't like his son playing with the odd little boy without a mother, but when we were younger, it didn't seem to matter.
I didn't like school. It's not that I didn't understand it. I just knew it already. So I thought if I already knew it what was the point of paying attention. So obviously I got in trouble a lot. This seems to be my trademark. I got teased a lot. Sometimes for not having a mother, and for other things too. Things I couldn't explain to the teachers, the kids, my father, or myself.
I remember once a boy was teasing me for something, I can't remember what, and I told him to get lost. Suddenly he disappeared. Poof! There one second, gone the next. The teacher who had been nearby saw him vanish and some how determined that it was my fault. He was found that afternoon wandering around the moor lost. And another time, there was a teacher who hated me. I don't know why. But he gave me a terrible grade on a test. I saw another girl's test and she had most of the same answers I did and she had them right. But the next day when the teacher opened his grade book, it was empty. All the grades had been erased. He somehow blamed it on me. Things like that. Things that never happened to my sister.
But for a while things were just strange. These things wouldn't happen very often, though as I grew older, they became more frequent. But the strangest thing, and perhaps the thing that finally separated me from my classmates happened soon after the "get lost" incident.
Our neighboring village had a history of witch burnings back in the seventeenth century. So our class took a field trip out there to see how it really worked.
The bus ride was simple and short. I sat with Addi. When we got off the bus, we were greeted by a guide, who was dressed in a frock with a large ruff that made him look very silly. But he didn't seem to care. He welcomed us, and began our tour by showing us the pond where they drowned witches.
I winced as he related some of the more gruesome details of the trials.
"What's the matter, Black? Can't handle it?" one boy whispered in a low voice.
"Not likely." I shot back. Actually, it was because I felt sorry for the innocent witches who were no more in league with the devil than I was. That I knew for sure.
Then the guide led us to a small stage where a long post was standing up, surrounded by mounds of hay or straw. I can never tell the difference and I have to wonder if there even is one.
"Now who wants to be our witch?" his gaze rested on Addi.
"How about you?" she shrugged and came forward. He took her and loosely tied a rope around her, fastening her to the post. While he did this, he explained the techniques used by the puritans.
Suddenly, there was a crash! Thunder! Instantly, I began to shake, A horse in one of the stables had broken loose and was headed straight for us. We scattered, our guide included. Only he dropped his torch.
It fell, rolled, and then set the hay on fire. The flames roared up and Addi screamed. They drew neared, but no one came to help her. She was struggling with the ropes, but was unable to get free.
I looked around. No one was doing anything. They were all standing there in awe while my sister died. Well, I wasn't. I dashed up the steps.
"Sirius! No!" my teacher screamed, but I ignored her. I reached the fire and looked franticly for an opening. I saw none. But I pulled together all my courage and ducked my head. Then I leapt through the flames.
Oddly enough, I felt nothing. I reached the other side and looked up. Nothing was burned, even singed. I was fine, but Addi was not. I yanked her cords and she was free. Then we looked for an escape. The fire was closing in. Fear mounting, I watched the flames lick at the log stage. Any second now it would collapse.
Then a sort of calm came over me. I knew exactly what do to. I waved my hand and the fire died. It split in two pieces, creating a sort of doorway for us to go through. I pulled Addi through and we jumped. As soon as we were clear the fires roared up and the stage collapsed.
My teacher ran up to us and pulled us both into a tight hug. Over her shoulder, I could see most of my classmates regarding me with a strange sort of fear. The whole way home, people gave me odd looks. I knew they'd seen what I had done. The people of Dartmoor are a nervous suppositious lot. How could you not be, living only a mile away from a place like that? But they still clung to their ancient superstitions.
I puzzled over it, but couldn't figure it out. By the time we'd gotten home people were starting to talk. Not many people spoke to me after that. I was nine years old.
Of course, my favorite pastime didn't help much. I told you I grew up close to Dartmoor. On warm sunny days, I'd love to push Addi and Dad out of bed just before the sun rose, and we'd pack a lunch and bike to the moor. Once there, we'd settle on some rock and just sit there, watching the sky, or talking. Sometimes Dad didn't go and it was just the twins.
I should tell you that while I loved Dartmoor as a strange and wondrous place, even Eden had its dangers. And Dartmoor is no Eden.
Deep in Dartmoor, there is a section of mires called the Grimpin Mire. A mire is really just another name for quicksand. I've seen many ponies get caught in the Great Grimpin Mire. But there are safe paths through the mires, dry places where you can step and reach the island in the middle. By the time I was seven years old, I knew these paths by heart.
No one had ever shown me. I simply knew where to step and where not to step. I once heard an old farmer tell his wife that he'd seen me, crossing the mire one day when I was about six.
"Thought it was a fairy at first. With that black hair, as dark as night, running across that mire, not even looking where he was going, he's got fairy blood in his veins, that one. Magic, he is." I never knew just how right he was.
I looked odd as well. Not like Addi who looked like a perfectly normal child, with light brown hair and green eyes. No, I had dark skin, black hair, and pale eyes. I never could really decide if they were blue or gray. It might not be so bad if I had had dark eyes to go with the rest of my features, but my eyes stood out, in contrast to everything else.
Then one summer day when I was ten, I got a letter in the mail. It was addressed to
Mr. S. Black
First bedroom, second floor
17 Breckinridge LaneHunstanton, Devon
Being extremely unpopular at school, and having no relatives other than my father, sister who I lived with, and grandparents who hated the sight of me, I was very confused about who would write to me. Overcome with curiosity, I ripped it open.
Hogwarts School
Of Witchcraft and WizardryHeadmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf Warlock, Supreme Mugwwump, International Confed, of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Black,
We are pleased to inform you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Since we have been informed that you were not previously aware about the world of magic, also enclosed are several instructions on how to make your way in getting your things necessary for your success at school.
Your supplies may be purchased in a place called Diagon Alley, which is located off of Charing Cross Road in London. There will be a small pub called The Leaky Cauldron, which is to be found between a bookshop and a record store. It is possible that your family make not be able to see this so be sure to point it out. The bartender will show you how to get into Diagon Alley and from there, you will travel to Gringotts Bank to exchange your muggle money for magic currency.
You will also need to take the Hogwarts Express, which will transport you
to your new school. The train leaves at platform 9¾ at eleven o'clock sharp. The platform is located between platforms nine and ten, so simply walk straight through the barrier.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
"Dad!" I ran into the kitchen and waved the letter in my father's face.
"What is it, Siri?" he asked. Addi looked up from her book.
"I'm a wizard!" I shouted. He froze and stared at me for a long minute. His eyes seemed so very frightened and I wondered just what I had said. "Dad?" I asked, softly.
"What makes you think that, son?" he asked. I noticed his voice was a little shaky, and his hands trembled when I handed him the letter. He took it and read it. After a long moment he looked up from it, staring blindly into space.
"Dad?" Addi asked.
"Get out." Dad mumbled.
"What?" I asked, not sure I'd heard him.
"Get out!" he yelled. Addi gazed at him. "You too Adhara. Go!" he shoved both of us out of the room, grabbing my letter out of my hands as he did so. Then he slammed the door shut. Addi and I stared at each other, open-mouthed. Never in our memories, not even once, had Dad acted like that.
There was nothing for us to do. Dad would not respond to our calls and the door was locked. Addi and I spent the rest of the afternoon running with my dog on the moor.
When we came in, tired and dirty, the first thing we saw was Dad. He was sitting in his study, staring at the crackling fire. He looked up when we entered and nodded to the two cups of warm tea, still steaming and sitting on the dining table. Our living room and dining room where really one big room. Whenever we came in from playing on the moor, be it rain or shine, summer or winter, dad always made us drink hot tea. He said it decreased the chances of us getting sick. Well, he was a doctor and the tea wasn't half bad. It was about the only thing he could make. Addi was the cook of the family.
"Did you have fun, kids?" we nodded. "Good, then take your tea." We did as we were told and sat ourselves down by the fire. Dad stood up and walked over to the mantle. I saw him look over the pictures there. He ran his finger over the one of all of us at the beach, our school pictures, his and mum's wedding picture, and finally the picture taken when we were born. It was my favorite. Mum looked so happy, dad so proud. Mum was beaming, holding me close pride and honor shining out of her eyes, the eyes that I now have. Dad, with Addi in his arms, is leaning over mom who is in the hospital bed, looking tired and worn, but so very happy. Dad told us it was the best day of both their lives. Mum died three days later. That picture was lost when Voldemort destroyed our house few years later.
Dad closed his eyes and put the picture down. He sighed.
"Sirius, about that letter you got," he took a deep breath, as if he were forcing himself to say the words. He sat back in his chair and lifted me onto his lap. I wasn't a small child, but I wasn't particularly large either. I would go through a tremendous growth spurt in the next few years. That was one thing I did inherit from my father. He was a tall man. But now, both my sister and I could both fit easily into his lap, which we now did.
"Siri, Addi, its time I told you about your mother's world." And he told me everything. My mother was a witch. I was half wizard. He told us all about the wizarding world. He told me Hogwarts was one of the best magic schools around and I would learn everything I needed to know. Unfortunately Addi wasn't a witch. She hadn't inherited Mum's powers. She was a muggle.
He also told me when we were alone; my mother hadn't died in childbirth as I had been told. She was murdered. By a dark wizard, named Voldemort. She had died to protect me. He told me the whole story. She was a teacher at Hogwarts. She taught Care of Magical Creatures, (Which might have explained later why it was my best subject.) How he came one night to our house. The next part shocked me. He had come to kill me!
"Why?" I asked.
"Because Sirius, You are special. You will be a great wizard someday. He knew that."
Then he told me how my mother refused to stand aside and let me die.
"I would have helped. I tried. But he cursed me. I was lucky to survive. So are you."
He told me that when Voldemort tired to kill me, my mum jumped in the way. The curse meant for me, hit her. She died to save me. But the result was he wasn't able to kill me. And the ministry had come at just that time and they drove him off. I didn't want to think about what would have happened if they hadn't been there.
We were saved, but our house was destroyed. My dad had decided not to rebuild, but to move on. He'd sold the house in Hogsmeade, and moved here, started over.
That night, I lay in my bed, listening to Addi breathe, and I stared up at the ceiling, wondering about this strange new world where suddenly, everything made sense. Somehow I knew that Hogwarts was going to be different. And that my old life was over. A new life was about to begin. Watch out, Hogwarts, I thought as I rolled over, Sirius Black is coming!