Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters or the world they live in. Anything that does not belong to JK Rowling (characters, plot, concepts, etc), however, is my own work. Please respect my rights to it… or I'll get ya. ;) I have also used The Harry Potter Lexicon for several reference points: I'm having trouble putting in the hyper-link or address, so just go to Google and type in "Harry Potter Lexicon."
Author's Note: Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter up; I'm still trying to get back into the swing of school. To amend for the lateness, it's a bit longer. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter—like the last one, it's a bit intense, and I'm upping the rating to PG-16 due to some violence in the latter sections. You've been appropriately warned.
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The rays of sun in the kitchen were growing deep when Ani stumbled into the kitchen in her pyjamas, her mass of brown curls tied in a knot atop her head. Sassy, her brother Rion's huge Irish setter, curled on her bed in the corner, joyfully barked a greeting and dashed over to leap on Ani as she entered the room. She rubbed the dog's silky ears and grinned up at her father, who sat at the table, a cup of coffee in one hand and the Daily Prophet spread out before him. "Good to be home," she said to him as she gave Sassy one last pat and settled in at the table.
Cephas Hellsing smiled at his only daughter, who shared his golden eyes. "Good to have you home," he returned. "Do you fancy a fry-up?" He pulled out his wand and, with a flick, produced a plate of steaming sausages, fried tomatoes, poached eggs and hash browns. A glass of orange juice appeared next to the plate with silverware wrapped in a napkin.
Ani felt her mouth begin to water uncontrollably as she shook loose the fork and tucked in avidly. "Ah cahn't wayt untihl Ah cahn use mahik outhide of schkool," she told her dad around a mouthful of food.
Her father chuckled in amusement. "You'd get even lazier than you are already," he teased her.
A comfortable silence filled the kitchen as Cephas went back to his newspaper and Ani contentedly took in her surroundings. Her mother both loved to cook and was an incurable packrat, so the cupboards in her kitchen bulged at the seams. Cookbooks, hastily scribbled recipes as well as cutout recipes from magazines and the like littered the countertops and desk. The refrigerator was hidden underneath a layer of photographs, both Muggle and magical, so that cheeky, grinning images of Ani and her brothers ran in and out of pictures, mimicking their stationary counterparts. The heavy scent of cloves and cinnamon mingled with the potent traces of magical herbs that sat sunning on the windowsill.
Ani had spent her whole live in the same house and never once envied those of her schoolmates who had been around the world. Their town of Mistford, just outside of Salisbury, was far away from the hustle and bustle of London, but had a healthy enough wizarding population that there were several magical shops and pubs. All the things Ani loved best were in Mistford: Lily, her family, the park where she and her brothers had idled away their youth. Her room—a wide expanse under the eaves of the house—was full of mementos and memorabilia, and the walls of the house were full of scars and battle wounds from skirmishes with her brothers. No doubt about it, Ani thought to herself. 21 Smythwick Circle is the best place in the world.
She'd just set her fork down and was polishing off the rest of her orange juice when her mother bustled into the kitchen. "I was wondering when you'd be up, slug-a-bed," Cassie Hellsing said, brushing a brisk kiss over her daughter's hair and scooping up her breakfast plate. A silky brown curl, peppered with grey, fell into keen blue eyes as she slid the plate into the sink—which had instantly filled itself with steaming, soapy water and set its sponge to cleaning Ani's plate. Turning back to the table, she gave her daughter an appraising look, folding her arms comfortably over her chest. "What had you in mind to do today?" she asked.
"Lily, Rion and I wanted to go visit Lynx at the Liondragon's Lair," Ani said, laying her napkin on the table, "since he couldn't come to London to pick me up. Then we'll probably bum about town for a while. Anything that you need me to get done before we go?"
"Oho, so she's volunteering now? Better hold her to it now, Mum, a week from now it'll be over!"
"She's got you for slave labour," Ani shot back, grinning as Rion entered the kitchen and cuffed her once on the jaw. "What does she need me for?"
"The woman's work," Rion retorted. "Cooking, cleaning… all that appropriate stuff."
"Orion," Mrs. Hellsing scolded, a warning in her tone.
Rion, three years Ani's senior, winced at his full name and flashed a wide, charismatic smile at their mother. "Only joking, Mum," he assured her. Rion differed dramatically from Ani in terms of colouring—having inherited their father's height and sun-touched hair and their mother's sky eyes—but their relation showed strongly in their hawkish Hellsing noses (though Rion's was a bit crooked from a run-in with Lynx when he was seven), deeply set, darkly lashed eyes, moulded cheekbones and clear, honey-toned complexions. "I've been bored stiff this morning waiting for you," Rion complained. "Hurry and go get dressed so we can get Lily and leave!"
Ani clucked her tongue and hopped out of her chair. "Patience is a virtue," she reminded her brother cheekily. "Let me grab a shower. I'll hurry!" she said as Rion heaved a great and weary sigh, falling down into the chair next to their father with an air of great finality. "You can clock me! Starting now!" She pushed off at the base of the stairs and flew up to her room.
One shower, a t-shirt and a pair of tattered jeans later, Ani headed back down the stairs. She was about to open her mouth and carol out to Rion that she was ready—only fifteen minutes and twenty-seven seconds!—when a hitch in her father's voice as it wafted from the kitchen made her pause. Frowning, she cocked her ear downstairs and listened closely.
"—and then they put it on the second to last bloody page, hoping people like me won't read it and write in demanding a retraction!" Cephas' low, deep voice had gone harsh with a barely repressed fury. Ani shivered at her father's tone. She'd heard him stern and angry by turns, but never anything like this—dismayed and disapproving and angrier than she'd ever known him to be. There was something else, too. Fear, Ani realized suddenly. He sounds frightened.
"Shhh, Cephas, that's enough," her mother said in a low whisper. Ani strained to hear her, crouching down on the stairs. "Rion just went to let Lily in, and the children don't need to hear about this."
"They're going to hear about it sooner or later, Cassie," he insisted, but lowered his voice. "I'd like to know what kind of idiots they're letting into the Ministry of Magic these days! Listen to this!
"A Ministry official, speaking on the condition of anonymity, reports that the committee overseeing the Pureblood Sanctity Act has produced new evidence indicating a general support of the act many are calling a safety measure for the protection of the Wizarding Race. 'The committee believes that by keeping only those of purely Wizarding families in the top echelon of the Ministry and other organizations, including educational facilities, chances of discovery by Muggles will decrease nearly tenfold. Use of Disillusionment and Muggle Repelling charms would be rendered nearly obsolete unless a large gathering were taking place.' The theory behind the effectiveness of such an act is such that the fewer ties with the Muggle world, the less harm is likely to come to creatures of magical persuasion. Cassie, they're talking about keeping children like Lily out of the schools and out of employment by scaring people into believing they're a risk! It's absurd! If it weren't for wizards marrying Muggles and having half-and-half children, our kind would have died out long ago!"
"I know, Cephas!" Mrs. Hellsing replied, and Ani could hear the strain on her voice as well. "It's horrible, I don't disagree! It's throwing the baby out with the bathwater. But there's no reason for you to get upset and worry the kids. Ani's fifteen years old, she doesn't need to be worrying about whether or not her best friend in the world won't be coming back to school with her next term. And what about Lynx? You know that Bly—" Her voice broke off suddenly and when Ani heard it again, the false cheer in it took her aback. "Well, hello, Lily, honey! Sit down and have some tea, Ani's just getting ready."
Ani leaned back on the stairs, her mind abuzz. Lily banned from Hogwarts? she thought, inwardly panicked. They can't do that! If they kick out everyone who's not from a wholly wizarding family, half of the kids from school will be gone! Lily, Remus, Maggie Brunswick, Lukas van Treble, Elder Thomas! That's just not fair!
She pressed her hands hard to her forehead, hoping to still her whirling thoughts, when suddenly Rion stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at her. For a moment their eyes met and Ani could read the grim look on his face—he'd heard their parents too. Let's just hope that Lily didn't, Ani thought fervently. Rion cleared his throat and gave her a significant look, then raised his voice. "Ani?" he called, as though she were still upstairs. "C'mon! Lily's here and I told Lynx we'd stop by sometime before noon."
Giving Rion a grateful look, Ani stood and perched on the stair railing, sliding to the bottom soundlessly. She forced herself to grin at Lily, who looked considerably better than she had on the train last night, and hoped her friend would not notice and ask why she was upset. But a lifetime of friendship had not gone to waste. Lily's green eyes darkened as they studied Ani's face, but thankfully, she said nothing. "Ready, then?" she said breathily. Lily nodded as Ani and Rion kissed their mother goodbye. "We'll be back before supper, Mum!" As they walked past the table, Ani leaned over and wrapped her father in a tight hug. "Bye, Dah."
Mr. Hellsing hugged his daughter tight. "Bye, Ani. See you later." He patted Lily on the shoulder as she passed. "Bye, Lily. You kids have fun today."
Lily smiled at him, although warily. "Thanks, Mr. Hellsing. We will."
The three of them trudged outside, Rion with his hands jammed deep in his pockets, Ani with a cloud over her head she was sure the others could see. They remained silent until they'd gotten a good distance away from number 21, when Lily pivoted in step and leveled a serious look with Ani and Rion.
"Okay… What the hell was all of that about?"
As they walked towards Lynx's restaurant, Ani and Lily told Rion about the incident with Rodolphus Lestrange and Bellatrix Black and how James had bloodied Severus Snape's face. As they finished the story, his eyes were hooded. "Lestrange is about as personable as a boggart," he muttered darkly. "He likes nothing more than to terrify people and make them miserable." He put his arm around Lily for a moment and gave her a brotherly squeeze. "You shouldn't let him get to you, Lil."
Lily sighed and nodded. "I know I shouldn't… but it's different when he's sneering down at you with those bitter eyes." She shivered.
Rion gave Ani a sharp look as he released Lily from his hug. "And you," he said pointedly, suddenly looking much older than just eighteen. "You'd do well to stay out of Bellatrix Black's way. There's bad blood in the Blacks, and Bellatrix is a particularly nasty sort."
"Believe me, I've no intention of crossing paths with Bellatrix Black ever again," Ani assured him. "Trudy Dots—she's a year older than us—got on her bad side once during our third year, do you remember that Lil? Gryffindor had joint Herbology with the Slytherins and Trudy didn't come out of the greenhouse with everyone else one day. When we saw her next she had horrible gashes across her back—I remember the blood seeped through her dressing gown when she came back from the showers." She shuddered, remembering. "Of course, Trudy wouldn't go to hospital wing, much less tell Madame Pomfrey who did it, so she never got caught. No, Rion, I know better than to mess with Bellatrix."
"It would probably," Lily added in a tone of voice that made Ani go slightly chill, even in the heat, "be a good idea not to associate with Sirius Black, either."
Not this again!
"What's this about Sirius Black?" Rion asked, taken off-guard. "Have you taken a fancy to him, Ani?" His sister ignored him.
"For goodness sakes, Ani, I told you not to look at me like that!" Lily said indignantly as Ani glared hard at her. "This isn't even about what I think about Sirius, it's about being smart. Bellatrix thinks that Rodolphus fancies you, so she's already got a reason to dislike you. Stealing her man away and then taking up with her cousin would be the ultimate insult! Bad enough she think you're a blood traitor—Bellatrix is just the type to take revenge on anyone who wrongs her, in any way. You know that as well as I do."
"She's right, Ani," Rion said and Ani had a swift, surging desire to conk him hard on the head. "I don't know Sirius myself but even Dad's said that it's better not to mix with wizards like the Blacks. They're a bit too power hungry and much too interested in the Dark Arts. Listen to Lily, Ani, she's right about this."
"I," Ani said stiffly, "will see who I please, whether it's Sirius Black or not—which both of you, in your great wisdom, have forgotten, it is not. Now, if you don't mind terribly, I'd like it very much if you both shut up."
To their credit, Rion and Lily didn't say anything else about Sirius or the incident on the train. On an unspoken agreement they all dropped the subject and by the time they reached the restaurant, they were laughing and talking about a Quidditch match earlier in the term where Lily had taken a spectacular nosedive off her broom. Main Street, Mistford, was relatively empty for midday—the heat kept the wise indoors—so the three of them slipped into the magical building unnoticed.
Ani grinned broadly as they walked through the door of the Liondragon's Lair and the roar of a Chinese Fireball (or Liondragon) echoed overhead. A group of older boys—Hogwarts students who graduated with Rion—caroled greetings to her brother, who waved back. A tall, dark haired witch sat eating in one corner, a novel propped before her, its enchanted pages turning whenever she requested; every so often, she would glance around surreptitiously and lower a morsel of food into the large pocketbook at her side. A furry arm would reach out, accept the snack, and quickly lower back in. Ani glanced at Lily see if she too had noticed: she had. She and Ani exchanged a look and burst out laughing. The Liondragon's Lair was never short on interesting customers.
"Ani!" Lynx's voice boomed. Her grin stretched wider as her eldest brother, taller and broader than both her father and Rion, burst out of the kitchen, what looked like a cup of flour streaked across his face and shirt. In one spectacular move he hurdled the bar—much to the surprise of the elderly little wizard with the monocle who sat there nursing a cup of tea—and crossed to Ani in three long steps. He scooped her up in a tight hug and twirled her around as though she were a tiny child, the golden braid that hung down his muscular back swinging. "Welcome home, darlin'," he greeted her happily, sitting her back down on the ground and looking at her, golden eyes twinkling. "I missed you."
"I should say so! I missed you too!" she laughed, stepping aside as Lynx moved to fondly hug Lily and clap Rion on the shoulder, shaking his hand. "Business looks good," she observed, brushing the flour from her body, her eyes scanning the large, bright room. Bewitched windows shone with bright sunshine and, every so often, the eatery's huge, winged namesake would sweep through the blue skies. "Have you got awhile to sit and catch up with your little sister?"
"For you, my dear, there is always time," Lynx said, sweeping her a deep, elegant bow. He took off his dark red apron and flicked his wand so that it floated across the room and hung itself neatly on a peg. "Oi! Chaz!" he shouted back towards the kitchen. "Send out some fish and chips as soon as you've finished that last order. Blythe! Take a break and come and meet Ani and Lily!"
"Out in a minute, Lynx!" an accented, female voice responded. "Go ahead and sit them down."
Ani's eyes grew wide as Lynx piloted the three of them to a cozy booth next to one of the magical windows. "Who is Blythe?" she asked teasingly, sliding into the booth after Rion and Lily.
Rion smirked. "Only the finest witch to cross the pond!" he informed their sister, winking at Lynx.
Lynx laughed, a warm, round, even sound. "Blythe moved to England from the States at the end of last summer, about the time that Brendan up and quit on me," he informed Ani and Lily. "She took a room with Mrs. Henderson across the way and saw the sign that I needed a new cook. She'd been hoping for a chance to bus tables or waitress or something, but as it turns out, she happens to be a spectacular cook. She came in, asked me for a job." Lynx leaned back in the booth, grinning at the memory. "She made me a shepherd's pie to die for and I hired her on the spot."
"Oh sure," Rion laughed. "You hired her for her shepherd's pie and I'm the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. He left out the part about her being a Puddlemere United fan and having legs that would make a man die happy," he added as Lily and Ani laughed.
"That's just the icing on the cake," the female voice they had heard earlier said cheerfully. The four of them looked up to see a tall young woman about Rion's age with warm, caramel-toned skin and short dark hair tapered to her neck approaching them, balancing a tray of fish and chips in one hand. "And you were singing quite a different tune last week when I made you that beef stew you said would put your grandmother to shame, Rion my love," Blythe chided with a grin, sliding the tray onto the table. She gestured to the food. "Tuck in before it gets cold, kiddos."
"He knows better than to insult your culinary talents, Blythe," Lynx said as she moved into the booth next to him. He sparked her cheek with a kiss and gestured to his little sister. "Blythe, meet my little sister, Andromeda, whom Rion and I have told you so much about. Ani, this is Blythe Ellis, new cook for the Lair and current love of my life."
"Wonderful to finally meet you, Ani," Blythe said in that fantastic American accent, her deep brown eyes warm on Ani's face as they shook hands.
"And this is Lily, our next door neighbor and Ani's best friend," Lynx went on, pointing to the redhead. "She's the same year as Ani at Hogwarts."
Blythe arched a brow. "You mean her sister is that lovely hag-in-Muggle's-clothing who glares at us every time we leave your parents house'?" she asked Lynx.
Next to her, Ani could feel Lily stiffen as she nodded shortly. The want to protect Lily surged inside of Ani as she gave her brother's new girlfriend a sharp glance. It wasn't the insult to her sister that had struck Lily—in fact, Lily would be the first to admit that Petunia (quite possibly the most anti-witchcraft Muggle in England) was about as pleasant to be around as a sprig of Devil's Snare. But between the Pureblood Sanctity Act and the episode on the train, Ani knew that Lily was feeling more sensitive than ever about being Muggle-born. "Yes," Lily said coolly, "that was my sister, Petunia. And no, she's not a witch."
A companionable smile on her face, Blythe commiserated, "Yeah, Lynx explained to me about her. Not much on the magic bit, is she? Neither was my mother. I'm Muggle-born, too." Lily blinked, surprised, as Blythe continued. "My dad was a Muggle, sure as day, but he was also a Mohave medicine man—my teachers at school say that may have been what started it in me." She snagged a chip from the basket and popped it into her mouth, continuing. "Never knew him, though; my mother met him in a town called Blythe in California, which is where I got the name. But yeah, Moms about pitched a fit when we got the owl from Grayson—the only wizarding school in the States. Screamed that I'd be a freak, that I'd never get married or give her grandchildren. Yeah, she was pretty ticked. Anyway, she packed me for school and told me not to come back. I lived with my grandmother during the summers."
Relaxed now that her parentage wasn't under attack, Lily clucked her tongue sympathetically. "Petunia's the only one who really got into a snit about it," she admitted. "Mum and Dad were just thrilled. They loved the idea of having a witch in the family."
Chomping on fish and chips, Lynx, Blythe and Rion listened to Lily and Ani regale them with tales of the school year. A questioning look from Rion had earned a shake of the head from Ani; there was no need to worry Lynx with what had happened to the girls on the Hogwarts Express. The topic was sure to come up soon, though, if things were getting as heated at the Ministry as the Daily Prophet seemed to indicate. Let's just let it go for a few more days, Ani thought to herself, busying herself with a slice of fish. No sense in worrying before it's necessary.
Blythe, wonderfully, soon brought up the subject that cleared everyone's minds.
"So are you planning to ask them or not, Lynx?" Blythe asked, tilting her head up to grin at him.
"I suppose I don't have any choice now, do I, you little hellcat?" Lynx asked with a chuckle, squeezing her shoulders.
"Ask us what?" Rion said, echoing Ani's thoughts.
Feigning defeat with a roll of his eyes, Lynx leaned forward, looking around the table at the others' expectant faces. "The International Wizarding Convention is being held in Bath in a few weeks," he explained. "And since I offer relatively low catering rates, and Dad knows some of the wizards on the organizational committee, I've been asked to provide the food. I'll have a team of cooks under me and I'm bringing Blythe to help me oversee the process. While I'm there a reviewer from the Daily Prophet is planning on coming by and doing a write-up of my cooking, so it's a big deal for me."
Ani exclaimed, "That's fantastic, Lynx!"
"Congratulations!" Lily and Rion echoed.
"Thanks. Anyway," he went on, "an old friend of Blythe's runs a bed-and-breakfast and is willing to give us a few rooms at a relatively good price. I wanted to have Mum and Dad come away with us, but neither of them can get away from work." His golden eyes met Ani's and glittered mischievously. "So I asked them if they'd mind terribly if I brought you and Rion and Lily up with me. We'll go a few days before the convention starts and stay a few days after it ends, so it'll be about a week in all." He leaned back and winked at Blythe, who was grinning at the excited looks on the girls' and Rion's faces. "What do you think, chaps? Sound like a good way to start the holiday?"
"It sounds perfect!" Lily cheered. "I've never been to Bath, I've heard it's absolutely gorgeous!"
"Besides, it's a week without parents," Ani added excitedly. "Blythe, you and Lily and I can all share a room and let the guys have one to themselves!"
"It'll be girls' night every night," Blythe agreed with a laugh. "We'll watch chick flicks and drool over the dishes on the screen."
Rion rolled his eyes. "And we can go out to the pubs and leave the ladies to their chick flicks," he offered to his brother.
Lynx grinned. "So it's settled?" he asked. "Lily, I've already talked to your Mum, and she says as long as you want to go, it's fine with her."
Grabbing Lily's hand, Ani exclaimed, "Of course she wants to go! We'll have a blast, Lil!"
"Alright then," Lynx announced, clapping his hands together with great finality. "We're off to Bath!"
* * *
The evening was bleeding into night when a faint sound stirred Sirius out of his half-doze.
For a wonderful moment he thought it was morning and he'd awakened in his four-poster bed back in the Gryffindor tower. He half expected to roll over on his side and see James in the next bed, his mouth dropped open in sleep as usual. Class would be starting soon—best hurry down to breakfast. Remus would probably already have a book open, reviewing the material they all knew he'd already memorized, and Peter would be pestering him, asking what they had to know today. Sirius almost smiled, thinking it was true. But all too quickly the sensation passed and his smile faded. The school year was over, and he was not at Hogwarts. He was alone in his dark, dreary room back at 12 Grimmauld Place.
Rolling over onto his stomach, Sirius considered trying to fall back asleep. The night stretched out before him like a detention he felt certain he didn't deserve. But this time there was no James to keep him company: there was only Regulus, and the thought of having to see his younger brother any time other than at dinner or passing in the halls of the house turned Sirius' stomach. He wasn't afraid of Regulus—How could I be? Sirius thought wryly. The little prat is a good four inches shorter than I am and nearly three stone lighter. But despite his advantage in age and size, Sirius felt a cold tremor whenever he met his younger brother's eyes. Regulus had always been a good student, but unlike Sirius, who just happened to be remarkably intelligent, Regulus' motivation was his zeal to become powerful. He was devoted to their cousin Bellatrix almost to the point of being fanatical, and as far as Sirius was concerned, no good could come of that relationship.
Scritch.
Sirius frowned and sat up in bed. The weird noise that had awakened him echoed through the dark room again. He repressed a shiver and moved to turn on a lamp. "If I hadn't grown up in this room, I'd never be able to sleep in here," Sirius muttered to himself. "This house gives even me the creeps."
He was thinking about sneaking down to the kitchen and nicking something to snack on when he heard the strange noise again. A frown creased his brow; it was coming from out in the hall. Warily, he picked up his wand and moved for the door. Ever since he could remember there had been strange and dark creatures slinking around his house. They usually had the sense to stay in the rooms they'd chosen to hide in—his mother was nasty to cross and was known to jinx anything that crossed her path—but every once in awhile a boggart or a swarm of doxies manage to find its way into Sirius' room. He'd personally had quite enough of it, and never believed his brother when he claimed he hadn't set it on him.
Grasping the doorknob in his palm, Sirius steeled his nerves and flung the door open, leaping out into the hall. Nothing there.
But then a movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Turning to look down the hall, Sirius let out a sigh of irritation. It wasn't a boggart, but it might as well have been, as unpleasant a sight as it was. His mother's house elf, Kreacher, was slinking slowly down the dark hall towards Sirius, dragging a heavy trunk behind him as he walked.
He didn't even what to hazard a guess what was in that trunk. Kreacher had been his grandparents' gift to Sirius' mother on her wedding day, and Sirius found it humorous that the gift given to his mother on the "happiest day of her life" was the sourest creature on the planet. Kreacher had a disposition like spoiled milk. He worshipped Mrs. Black, simpered after her husband like a sick dog, and catered to Regulus' every whim. But when it came to Sirius, the dislike was mutual. Throughout his childhood Sirius had experienced several rather nasty surprises he was certain came from Kreacher's gnarled little hand, including releasing a Pogrebin in Sirius' room (he still had no idea where he'd gotten it). Still, Kreacher was a house elf, and he couldn't do anything overtly harmful to Sirius. The most he could do was annoy him—and he made sure to do so on a fairly regular basis.
Sirius leaned against the wall and folded his arms over his chest. His initial anxiety gone, he now felt the familiar stirring of contempt within him. "Filching more of my mother's old dressing gowns to have something to sleep in, Kreacher?" he drawled as the creature inched closer and closer.
Bulbous green eyes looked up at him as Kreacher muttered something under his breath. "What was that, old boy?" Sirius called out, raising his wand threateningly.
"Young master's father says Kreacher is to come wake the worthless boy," Kreacher rasped as he trudged closer. "Master Black says his useless son is wanted in the drawing room. Kreacher is thinking that the boy would do well to heed his father—wouldn't want a nasty fall down the stairs like last time."
Sirius went rigid. He ought to have known that Kreacher was lurking nearby when that had happened. Last summer, after returning from his escape to the Potters, Sirius had rushed to his room, furious and resentful. From the base of his stairs, his father had bellowed for him. After fighting the conditioned response to leap off his bed and race to accept the punishment, Sirius had resisted a whole minute. Finally deciding to take his lumps, he'd left the room and met his father—in a rage unlike anything Sirius had ever seen—at the top of the stairs. He remembered very little else—only the storm of his father's face and then blackness—but awoke the next morning with a stiffness in his limbs that suggested mending bones and several bruises that lingered for weeks.
Resisting the urge to swing the house elf back down the hall by his ears, Sirius pushed past Kreacher and headed downstairs, a vague feeling of trepidation filling him. His marks wouldn't have been delivered yet—it was only the third day of vacation—and Sirius highly doubted that his father, whom he'd not yet seen thanks to Mr. Black's busy work schedule, simply wanted to see how the year had gone. Suppose I'll find out soon enough, he thought bitterly. Best not to drag it out.
The drawing room was filled with heavy, dark-wood furniture with elaborate scrollwork adorning it. Deep amber-red light flickered on the walls and Alden, on his perch in the corner, watched Sirius enter with knowing eyes. Sirius always felt as though he'd fallen into some ancient British estate whenever he entered the room. Heavy wingback chairs, upholstered in leather the uncanny color of blood, littered the room. Sirius' father, Maurus Black, sat behind his desk, dark head bent as he scanned a sheet of parchment before him. Sirius pushed a hand over his head, making sure his hair was reasonably tidy, and paused in the doorway, waiting to be acknowledged.
Mr. Black, distinguished and handsome, his black hair traced with silver, shot a glance to the door where Sirius waited. His modulated voice rang like a tolling bell as he addressed his son. "Don't lurk in doorways, boy, like some house elf awaiting orders," he fairly snarled. "You're a Black; act with some command. Come in here and stand before me and make your presence known."
"Yes, sir," Sirius said automatically and he hastened into the drawing room. Inwardly he burned. He doesn't want me acting like a house-elf yet I meekly jump when he tells me to, he seethed. And the kicker is, if I don't, I'm insolent and disobedient. Of course, of course, it all makes perfect sense.
He clasped his hands behind his back and stood before his father, waiting. Each second ticked by like a day, and Sirius stood there for so long that he began to wonder if Kreacher had been having him on and his father hadn't sent for him at all.
No such luck. Apparently satisfied with what he was reading, Mr. Black dipped his quill into a pot of pure black ink and scrawled his signature across the page. He folded it several times and then dribbled some heated wax into the paper and pressed the Black crest onto it firmly. He summoned the owl to him, who fluttered over and stuck out his leg obligingly, then disappeared through the open window. Outside, a storm was brewing. Inside, Sirius felt one was brewing too.
"Tell me, Sirius," Maurus Black began, his voice low and dangerous. Sirius felt an alarm trigger somewhere within him. "What is our family's motto?"
"Sir?" Sirius asked, taken aback. Whatever he had been expecting, this was not it.
"Are you deaf, boy?" Mr. Black snapped. "Tell me the Black family motto."
"Toujours pur," Sirius said dutifully. "Always pure. Father, I don't understand—"
"Always pure, yes," his father interrupted. "You come from a line of the oldest blood, Sirius. Your forefathers can be traced back to descendants of Merlin. It is a great honor to be born a Black, Sirius. You would do well to remember that."
An honor? Sirius thought scathingly, the condescending tone of his father's voice grating at his nerves. Being born to a line known for its cruelty and darkness? More like a curse. Aloud, he said, "I know that, Father. I have never forgotten it."
Something in his father's face changed, and Sirius had the distinct impression he'd fallen into a trap. "Haven't you?" he asked, his voice deceptively soft. "Well then, could you explain to me why you must continually disgrace the name of Black by associating with Mudbloods and blood traitors?"
"James Potter is as pureblood as I am, Father," Sirius said through clenched teeth. "And my association with him has no affect my view of my forefathers."
"Quiet!" Maurus growled. "I am not talking about James. I am referring to your involvement with Andromeda Hellsing."
"Ani?" Again, something he hadn't expected. "I would hardly consider myself involved with her, sir. She's in my House at school. And anyway, why does that matter? Ani's parents are both wizards, and Hellsing is as old a name as Black."
"Cephas Hellsing is a disgrace to his name and his breed." Sirius' father slurred the name as though it were an obscenity. "That filth has done nothing but stir trouble inside the Ministry and without. The Pureblood Sanctity Act—the only protection wizards may have in years to come if senile buffoons like Albus Dumbledore continue to hold sway—has come under nearly constant attack thanks to that man alone." He pinned his son down with black eyes remarkably similar to Sirius' own. "You will not, under any circumstances, assort with the girl, do I make myself clear? The child is as bad as her father. I will not have you smear our good name for the sake of that little trollop."
"What do you have against Ani?" Sirius demanded.
Sharp eyes pinned him again. "I beg your pardon?" Again, his voice had taken on that dangerous quality.
Sirius took a step back. "I understand your dislike of Ani's father, sir," Sirius began again, slowly. "But my friendship with her does not mean I'm going to turn into a traitor."
His father responded, "There are more appropriate friendships for you to cultivate. I will say no more on the subject." He pushed up from his desk and circled, coming over to the far side of the desk where his son stood. "Which brings me to my next point." Sirius turned to face his father, standing not two feet away. "What possessed you, if I might ask, to stand idly by while James Potter attacked Severus Snape?"
"Snivellus?" Sirius asked incredulously. "That sod? Is that what this is about?! Have you gone mad? You want me to be friends with that waste of flesh?"
Indifferently, Mr. Black raised his hand and lowered it across the cheekbone of his son's face. White light flashed in Sirius's eyes as the pain exploded. He swayed, about to stagger backwards, but forced himself to remain upright. He refused to let his hand twitch to his throbbing cheek. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Instead he raised his eyes to his father's and leveled a cold gaze with him, his jaw set. "Watch your tone," Mr. Black said coldly. "For your information, Sinistrus Snape happens to be a valued member of the Ministry of Magic… one whose support of the Pureblood Sanctity Act would be invaluable. If you know what is best for you—and for your family—you will follow in your brother Regulus' footsteps and make amends with Sinistrus' son." He nodded once, as though stating some great truth. "In fact, you would do well to take on many more of Regulus' traits."
Regulus.
That must have been it. His filthy, bleeding, worthless brother had told his father what had happened on the Hogwarts Express. In the end, that was what it boiled down to. Not being as good a son as Regulus.
His father spoke again, moving back towards his desk, an air of finality about him. "You will not be seeing James for the duration of the summer," he informed Sirius crisply as he began to lower himself into his chair once more. "It would do you better to remain here with your brother and his compatriots, and contemplate on what it means to be a true Black."
Something within Sirius went out. He felt very cold, suddenly, as though pushed out the door into the rain. He drew himself up straight and met his father's eyes. "If being a true Black means I've to give up my friends, associate with the likes of Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange and Severus Snape, and turn into a dicksplash like Regulus," he said slowly, watching the pupils of his father's eyes constrict, "I'd rather have a yank* on the family tree. I find my association with it rather disgusting."
[A/N: "Have a yank" is slang for "masturbate".]
Time once again seemed to slow. His father's path changed: he rose from the desk again, his hand closing around a heavy candlestick. Sirius focused on the flickering flame in his father's hand as Maurus approached him once more. A wispy voice echoed within his head, sounding remarkably like the portrait of his great-great-grandfather, Phineas Nigellus. Spare the rod and spoil the child.
The candlestick came down and crashed into Sirius's head as he dropped heavily to his knees. He clenched his teeth, refusing to cry out, a tiny whimper escaping against his will. Again and again the candlestick fell, striking jawbone and skull and spine and arms as he threw his hands over his head to protect himself. Sickening, heavy thuds filled the room, mixing only with the laboured breathing of his father and the strange, keening noises Sirius suddenly realized were his own. He was dying; he was going to die here, alone on the floor, with no one to mourn him. The pain! he cried out inwardly, his vision receding, going black around the edges. Oh, Merlin's bloody ghost, it hurts!
A heavy foot connected with Sirius' ribs, forcing the air out of his lungs. One last, mewling cry escaped his lips before he collapsed onto the floor, the sticky blood seeping steadily onto the carpet. The candle fell onto the ground next to him, sputtered, and went out.
* * *
"You foolish boy, don't tell me you were out in that storm!" James's mother laughed as he stumbled into the kitchen, soaking wet, clutching a broomstick in his hand. MaryAnn Potter put down the book she'd been reading and aimed her wand at him. It shot a blast of warm air at him, ruffling his black hair. She glanced at the clock and exclaimed, "Mercy, I didn't even realize what time it was! What on earth were you doing out on a broom in that storm at ten thirty at night? You'll catch yourself a death of a cold, James!"
"I wanted to start training for next Quidditch season," James explained, removing his glasses as the warm air fogged them over. He rubbed them on the hem of his T-shirt and grinned sheepishly at his mother as she gave him a sharp look. "Now that Randall's left Hogwarts I'm almost positive that Dumbledore will name me captain. I've got to practice and make up some new tactics, or we'll never win the Cup!"
Mrs. Potter rolled her eyes and threw her hands up in mock futility. "Forgive me, ye gods, for whatever I did to get such a son!" she said and she and James laughed together. "I see you ate the supper I set out for you earlier," Mrs. Potter observed, "without cleaning your dishes."
James shrugged, guilt written on his face, and leaned his broom against the doorframe. "Sorry, Mum," he said. "I'll do breakfast dishes tomorrow, how's that?"
His mother laughed again, shaking her head. "You, Mr. Never-Up-Until-Noon?" she asked, ruffling his hair and reaching up to kiss him. In the year since he'd last been home, James had shot up another inch and a half. He was quickly gaining on his father, soon to pass him up. James liked the idea of being taller than his dad. He'd taken to standing on his toes whenever he was near him; Harold Potter just laughed and swatted at him.
Hogwarts is a blast and all, James thought as his mother set about putting a pot of tea on for the two of them. But being home beats all. He grinned at his mother and felt the familiar glow of her smiling back at him. And when the lads get here to go to Bath, it'll be even better.
The smile on his face drooped just a bit. Remus and Peter were two of his best mates—he couldn't wait to see them. Being away from them for only three days had still been pretty boring. But it wouldn't be the same without Sirius. His father had an old schoolmate in Bath that his parents wanted to go visit, and James and the lads would be tagging along. It was to be a week of little to no supervision in one of the best cities in England. But Remus has that annoying habit of not wanting to get into trouble, James thought wryly. I suppose I can understand—the last major bit of mischief he pulled gave him a monthly problem to deal with for the rest of his life. And Peter's a good chap and all, but he can be such a prat. He sighed. If Sirius were along, James would never have a boring moment in Bath. He knew it.
As though reading his thoughts, Mrs. Potter set a cup of tea in front of him and asked, "Have you had an owl from Sirius yet?"
James frowned. "No, not yet," he said, blowing absently on the hot tea. His mother murmured a cooling spell, stirring his tea with her wand, until it was cool enough for him to sip. "He usually sends me one just as soon as he gets home, telling me how much he wishes he weren't there. I'm kind of surprised." He shrugged. "He's in London, though, maybe he's found some of the chaps from school and is hanging around with them." He looked at his mother and admitted, "I'm really chuffed that Remus and Peter will be here in a few weeks, but it won't be the same without Sirius."
"Maybe his father will change his mind and send him down sometime later in the summer," Mrs. Potter suggested comfortingly, patting her son's arm. "And if he doesn't, maybe you can convince your father to take you into London for the day and call on him then."
"Maybe," James agreed.
They sat sipping their tea for a while longer, and James was about to head up to bed, when a knock echoed through the house.
Mrs. Potter frowned and picked up her wand warily. "Were you expecting someone, James?" she asked, rising from the table. "It's a bit late for visitors."
"No," James said, equally confused. "Mum, don't be silly, let me go. You don't know who's out there," he said as she started towards the door.
"You're the one who's not allowed to use magic outside of school," Mrs. Potter retorted.
"Fine," James said as the knocking grew more persistent. "We'll go together."
Feeling slightly apprehensive, James preceded his mother down the narrow hallway that lead to their front door. He wished fervently that he were older—or, better yet, that his father were still awake. He thought for a moment of going up to wake him, but decided against it. James and his mother were the night owls of the family—his dad preferred to be awake by the crack of dawn and was as irritable as a hippogriff when awakened too soon. Best to handle this on my own, James thought.
He took a breath and pulled open the doorway. The storm was raging by this point, and on the porch, all James could make out in the darkness was a figure as tall as he and the outline of a trunk at his feet. He switched on the porch light and watched in shock as the figure before him winced and then met his eyes.
His mother gasped. "Sirius Black!" she cried out, horrified. She reached out and grabbed Sirius' arm and pulled him in from the storm. "James, grab his things. Sirius, child, what's happened to you?"
"Hi, Mrs. Potter. James," Sirius said wearily. His words came out thick from behind swollen, bleeding lips.
James couldn't take his eyes away from his best friend's face. Two black eyes made his already dark gaze like midnight and nasty purple and green bruises marred his normally clear complexion. Deep gashes gave the impressions of wrinkles in his face and he looked exhausted, rain plastered and shivering. James thought fleetingly that Sirius had taken a spill off the broom. But then he remembered the strange lack of owls and Sirius' comments about his father's temper, and a cold feeling filled his stomach.
Mrs. Potter was leading Sirius into the kitchen, and James found himself numbly following her, Sirius' trunk and broom abandoned in the doorway. "Sirius, what happened?" Mrs. Potter demanded. "Do your parents know you're here? Have you flown here all the way from London? You fool boy, someone might have seen you! What on earth were you thinking?"
"Mum, lay off," James said firmly, pulling out a chair and allowing Mrs. Potter to guide Sirius into it.
"I just fell when I was flying up here," Sirius explained. "I wanted to come see James and so I left, thinking I could get here before it got too late. But it took longer than I thought and I started to nod off on my broom and crashed into a tree." He winced as Mrs. Potter tilted his head up to examine his wounds. She ran her fingers gently through his hair, frowning as she fingered the lumps she found there. James crossed his arms over his chest, looking Sirius over. He was certain he was lying, but determined not to say anything in front of his mother.
"You're lucky you didn't break a leg," Mrs. Potter scolded in that way mothers have. She took a step back and looked over Sirius critically, shaking her head disapprovingly in a way that made James think of Madam Pomfrey. "I'll run upstairs—I've got some herbs that'll take the swelling down, and then we'll set to work on healing those cuts." She moved to leave the kitchen and then turned back to face the boys. "Shall I bring down some parchment so you can send an owl off to your parents, to let them know you've arrived more or less safely?"
There was a long pause, the only sound the pounding of rain and the roaring of the wind outside. James watched as his mother's face darkened with comprehension. Her hazel eyes—the eyes she gave to James—filled with tears that she angrily brushed away. She nodded shortly and said, "Well, I can't send an owl out in this storm… so perhaps we'll just wait until morning."
Sirius nodded. "Yeah, that's fine. Thanks, Mrs. Potter."
"I'll be back in a moment with the herbs."
The kitchen was silent as James stood silently over his rain-drenched friend. There were a thousand things he thought he ought to be saying—a joke to break the tension, a demand for the truth, a sympathetic murmuring. But his throat seemed to be locked. He settled instead for crossing the kitchen and crouching down next to Sirius' chair, staying silent, deciding to let him make the first move.
After a moment Sirius met James' eyes and grinned. James tried to smile back, but it turned into a wince. Sirius' teeth were bloodstained. "I couldn't let you go on to Bath without me," he said, attempting lightness. "What's a holiday without the fourth Marauder?"
James nodded and tried to sound cheerful. "It'll be a blast, mate."
Silence again. James wondered vaguely what was keeping his mother until he realized that she'd probably awoken his father and was explaining what had happened. He was about to go and see where she had gotten to when Sirius spoke again. This time the words were clearer and his voice shook. "I couldn't stay, James," he said shakily. "It wouldn't get any better. They have Regulus, they don't need me."
"You know you're welcome to stay here as long as you want, Padfoot," James said gravely. "You don't have to go back. Mum and Dad will understand."
"Thanks, James." Sirius rested his elbows on his knees, cradling his head in his hands, revealing more bruises along the base of his neck. There was another silence as James examined his friend closely. He felt his hands clench into fists at his sides as he stood and paced around the kitchen, trying to reign in the fury that was building up within him. Sirius' father did this, he thought, and the thought consumed his mind like flames. His own father.
As though hearing his friend's thoughts, Sirius let out a long, shuddering gasp. His shoulders shook slightly. James felt something inside begin to hurt.
Unsure of what to say, he put his arm around his friend's shoulders. Sirius leaned into him. Neither of them spoke.