Disclaimer – not mine

A/N – You're actually getting this chapter a couple of days early. My usual posting day is going to be Sundays (my day off!), but as I'm away on holiday for the next week (With no computer! I don't know how I'm going to survive...) you're getting it today. In case you're wondering, I've got quite a bit of this already written and it's going to be a pretty long fic. Unfortunately I don't write chronologically. I've got at least a page for each chapter, all the most important scenes, and I'm now in the process of linking it all together. Enjoy, and please review.

Oh, and thank you, kurtcobain4eva, for your review. See, you didn't have to wait too long for an update. Umm, sorry about the cliffhanger, but I'm afraid there's gonna be quite a few of them...

Chapter Three

In the doorway stood his mother; her eyes fixed coldly on him. Sirius shivered. He was in such trouble. For several long moments she said nothing, merely staring at him dispassionately. She didn't look even remotely surprised at finding him there, Sirius realised - which meant that she must have already known of his presence. But how...? The answer to that question became clear barely a moment later. Peering at him from behind his mother's robes was the smug face of Kreacher.

"What are you doing in here?" she snapped. "Your father's study is out of bounds. And you know that as well as I do!"

"I was just looking for a quill," he quickly invented. "I'm doing my homework and my quill seems to have gone missing."

He knew even before the words had crossed his lips that it was pointless. She didn't believe him. Typical. Spinning tales for his mother was even harder than it was for McGonagall. At least, occasionally, his Transfiguration professor believed him. His mother never did. In fact, he had a feeling that she simply disbelieved him out of spite. One of these days he ought to try telling her the truth - she'd probably still call him a liar.

"Really," she sneered. Casting a quick glance at the closed door on the far side of the room she snapped, "Follow me," before turning and marching out of the room. Sirius reluctantly followed her. He knew only too well where things would be heading now.

She didn't even bother taking him as far as her drawing room, instead simply leading him into the finely furnished guest room on the opposite side of the hall. Just far enough away, Sirius thought distastefully, not to disturb Father and his precious potions! As soon as they were both inside the room she turned on him and began on another familiar lecture.

"This defiance, your outright disobedience," she screeched at him, "has become too much! Your behaviour away at Hogwarts is bad enough, but such rule breaking will not be tolerated in this household!"

Sirius kept his head lowered, his eyes trained on the floor. He would not react to her words - things would only grow so much worse if he did. That lesson had been learnt many years ago. If he remained silent she would merely yell and, probably, throw a few curses at him; if he responded... well, the curses would get much nastier, that was for sure.

For the next several minutes he sought to tune out her harsh voice, fought to remain calm in the face of her insults - and he managed it. For a while. Soon however the anger steadily building inside him grew to almost unbearable levels. His fists were clenched so hard he could feel his nails cutting into his palms. He ground his teeth together, desperately trying to stop himself from saying, or doing, something that he'd later regret.

"It's the influence of that Potter boy. You were bad enough before, but since meeting him, since being sorted into Gryffindor, your behaviour has gone downhill. I should never have allowed you to stay in that school, associating with blood-traitors and mud-bloods! Durmstrang – I should have had you transferred to Durmstrang as soon as I heard that you had been sorted into that despicable house."

"You couldn't have kept me there though," Sirius muttered through gritted teeth.

"What did you say?"

"I said," and Sirius finally raised his eyes to meet his mother's, "you couldn't have bloody well kept me there!"

"Is that so?"

"Too right it is."

"I think that the professors at Durmstrang would have knocked a bit of sense into you. They wouldn't have allowed you to get away with the stunts you so frequently pull at that place! They would have taught you to follow rules... And speaking of rules, just what exactly were you doing in your father's study?"

"Mind your own bloody business!" he snapped.

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "What are you hiding, Boy?" she snarled. "You've got some filthy little secret locked away in that brain of yours. I can tell." She paused and Sirius stared back at her defiantly. What followed was in no way unexpected.

"Leglimens!" she snapped.

The touch of her mind upon his was unpleasantly familiar - dark, choking tendrils that sifted through his thoughts with no attention to notions of privacy. Memories flashed before him as if he lived the moments again. Himself as a tearful five year old enduring the scornful words of Titus Solomon, his expensive, undoubtedly pure-blooded, tutor. At eleven, as the sorting hat shouted its fateful verdict to a shocked school. Twelve, nervously preparing himself to face his friend, Remus...

His reaction was immediate and automatic. The shields that he tossed up were ones that he had been forced to develop through countless similar encounters. He desperately forced her back, out of his head. He would not allow her to invade his mind in such a way! There were too many things that she might learn...

"If I have," he snapped at her, again meeting her glare with one of his own, "you won't be finding it out that way!"

"Vertigos!"

The hex passed her lips in quick reprisal. Almost before he even realised it the entire room began to sway - a slow, undulating movement, steadily increasing in speed. He gasped in shock, quickly catching his balance as he staggered a step to one side; his eyes fixed on his mother's cruel face. This was a new one... He should have known that by now she'd have found some new torment to try out on him. The room began to spin. He shook his head, desperately trying to clear his mind as the unpleasant effects began to quickly overwhelm him. But the wand remained, pointed steadily at his body.

He blinked as her image wavered before him, separating and dividing - her malicious smile dominating several blurry faces now instead of just one. He clearly saw the mouth began to move, but the words fell on his ears in an unintelligible mass of syllables. Colours blurred and mingled, jumbling in sickeningly unnatural patterns. He squeezed his eyes tightly closed, but, if anything, that simply seemed to make things even worse. He quickly flashed them open, only to find himself swaying dangerously, unable to distinguish which way was up.

For what seemed like an eternity his fought to retain his feet. Eventually, however, no matter how hard he tried, he could remain upright no longer. The room tilted viciously to one side and, almost before he knew it, he was landing on his hands and knees, the indistinct image of her shoes hovering mere inches from his face. He pressed his palms down onto the thick piled carpet, desperately trying to ground himself. But it was futile. His stomach was churning, nausea almost overpowering him, and he fought it off, dragging harsh breaths into his lungs. Just breath, he told himself. Just keep breathing, it would eventually pass. He would not be sick. He would not... Bare seconds later he heaved, and the meagre contents of his stomach adorned the floor.

It was at that moment that she invaded his mind again. In spite of the continuing effects of the vertigo curse, he hurriedly flung up his shields. This time, however, it was no use. Fighting, as he was, to retain any sense of coherency, and with the acid bitterness of vomit filling his mouth, there was no way he could repel her. She evidently found his hasty shields no difficulty to break through. A moment later he was again sneaking into his father's study, desperate to find a letter. A letter that he quickly found and secreted.

He barely even noticed when his mother's hand reached in and withdrew something from within his robe. He registered it, but failed to recognise its importance. It was only when she lowered her wand, stilling the effects of the curse, that he finally broke free from the memory, forcing her from his mind. And it was only then that he regained enough self- possession to make any sort of connection at all.

Shit, he realised - Dumbledore's letter!

He struggled back to his feet, a sense of panic growing in him as he watched her turn the letter curiously between her thin fingers. He barely managed to restrain himself from snatching it out of her hands and making a mad run for it. He'd thought he'd been in trouble before but the unpleasantness of this encounter so far would be nothing compared to her reaction to the news held in that! He clearly saw the narrowing of her eyes as she noticed first the addressee on the outside, swiftly followed by the broken seal. A shiver ran through his veins and he could hardly even bear to watch as she unfolded the parchment and began to read. He simply stood as he was and waited for the shouting to begin, his hands trembling at his sides.

"Is this true?" She finally raised her eyes back to his face. Sirius merely stared at her, unblinking. "I said 'is this true?' What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"

"I..." he began, his voice unsteady. He halted and, in a split second, made an impulsive decision – one that he would probably later regret. "Yeah," he told her, lifting his chin, "it's true." He would not cower before her! Besides, he doubted that doing so would actually make this encounter any easier for him.

He could clearly mark the moment her barely restrained anger broke free. The skin of her face grew red as her eyes narrowed, her features twisting into an ugly, hate-filled mask. It was almost impossible to tell at that point that she had once been classed as a Beauty.

"How dare you?" she screamed. "What were you thinking? Were you even thinking? I'm not even going to ask how you knew the whereabouts of a werewolf!" Her voice steadily rose in volume. "I don't know how I'm ever going to be able to look into the eyes of any one of the Snapes tonight. You don't even regret it, do you? You disgust me! You nearly caused the death of a dutiful, pure-blooded boy, and you don't even regret it!"

"Actually," he cut in angrily, his voice clashing with hers, "actually Mother, for what it's worth, I do regret it. But never for the same reasons as you! Snape deserved it! I'll say the same thing 'til the day I die."

A single swipe of her wand sent him sprawling back to his hands and knees before her, only barely managing to avoid the puddle of vomit as he landed. Shit, he thought, he really shouldn't have said that. He had no time to think anything else, however, as a malicious curse was uttered.

"Flagellio!"

Vicious pain flared as the spell caught his back, lacing strands of fire along his nerves. He twisted away, struggling to get out of its path, but there was no way of escaping it. The effects merely transferred to a different area of his body as his mother kept her wand fixed on him. Searing heat, undimmed by the fabric in its way, straggled in sharp strands over his flesh. His breaths were growing steadily harsher, ragged gasps now that threatened to evolve into pain-filled cries. He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. This was a spell that he was unpleasantly familiar with. It had always been one of her favourites. Needless to say, it had never been one of his. Coming, as it did, so soon after that nasty vertigo inducing curse and her mental invasions, its effects seemed even more terrible than usual. The sharp tang of blood filled his mouth as he bit down on his lip, fighting to prevent his cries from escaping.

It halted sooner than he had expected.

"Go to your room! Now!" she snarled at him. "We'll talk more about this later."

He blinked up at her, his hazy mind unable to take in what she was saying. It was over... already?

"As pleasant as this little episode may be, Boy, I have other things to occupy myself with this evening."

He didn't need telling again. A moment later he had clambered to his feet and without daring a backward glance was practically running from the room. Once he reached the stairway, however, he slowed, moving his sore body carefully.

He had gotten off incredibly lightly, he was acutely aware of that fact. For once fortune had actually favoured him, and that didn't happen often in this house. He had to say that he'd never been so grateful for one of their pure-blood parties before. That had to be the reason for the abrupt ending to the 'little episode'. Hadn't she mentioned that she would be meeting with the Snapes tonight...? If she hadn't had to leave to prepare herself for that, he would probably still be held under one curse or another.

He was soon back in the familiar surroundings of his room. With a groan he lowered himself into a seated position on his bed, his hands tightly gripping the covers on either side, his head bowed. He didn't know whether he could stand this any longer. He certainly wasn't looking forward to the promised continuation of the 'talk' with his mother. But there wasn't anything he could really do to avoid it, was there? He had, several times in the past, toyed with the idea of running away, but he'd always before decided that he could handle things, as long as he held his tongue as much as possible.

He wasn't sure that he could do so any more.

James had told him that his parents would welcome him in their house if he ever wanted to get away – not that the other boy knew the true circumstances. As far as James was aware Sirius simply disagreed with his parents' pure-blood views. Now though... Now James hated him. He had nowhere to go, even if he did leave. Except for Hogwarts. He could always just head back to Hogwarts early. Dumbledore wouldn't mind, and he was sure the great headmaster would be able to find some way in which to prevent him from returning to his parents' in the summer. Though he would probably have to tell the elderly wizard the truth about his situation... If he did leave now, there was no way he would ever be able to return.

The thought of returning to Hogwarts early though set a slight wave of anxiety running through him. After all, he did have reasons for being home this Christmas... Since the Willow incident three weeks ago none of his friends had exchanged more than a handful of, usually heated, words with him. He had made the decision then that a couple of weeks with his parents would be better than a Christmas alone in a dorm with a hurt and betrayed werewolf. His view of things had changed a little now, but the thought of seeing Remus again any sooner than he had to still unnerved him.

He also had another reason for returning to Hogwarts early now, however, as well as his hatred of his home-life. His father's potions. Despite his best efforts, the words that he'd earlier read continued to cycle relentlessly through his mind. There was no way he could simply sit back and ignore what his father was doing. He would never be able to live with himself if he did.

He had held his tongue when it came to his parents and their allegiances before now. More times than he cared to admit. He had known for many years that they supported Voldemort – though he had believed their backing to be purely financial in nature. The suspicion that the madman allowed his father the chance to experiment with potions the ministry would never have approved of had, however, occasionally entered his mind. He had always managed to turn a blind eye, pretend that he didn't have any real idea. It was easier that way.

But now...? Now he knew. This surpassed everything else. The uses that these latest concoctions could be put to - their intended purpose! They were vile, and his conscience would allow him to remain inactive no longer.

But what could he do about it?

He sighed, brushing his hair back from his face. If he returned to Hogwarts now he could tell Dumbledore immediately. If he waited, it would be too late. From what that letter had said, by the time he was supposed to return to the school Voldemort would probably have his hands on the potions. A letter, he mused. He could write a letter - that would solve that problem. Or he could just report his father to the ministry... But his family had been investigated before now.

The Blacks were very rich. A little money spent in the right places and nothing more would be heard of anything. At least if word came through Dumbledore the matter couldn't be so easily lost. People wouldn't just brush under the carpet things said by the greatest wizard alive, the man who defeated Grindelwald... No, Dumbledore would be the one he'd have to tell, and it would be best if he did so in person.

But - would he actually be able to tell him...? And even if he did, his father would receive enough warning from one of his little paid spies to get rid of both the potions and all evidence that they'd ever existed. All that he would manage through that course of action was to get the potions to Voldemort rather ahead of schedule. His only real chance of stopping those potions from becoming a part of Voldemort's arsenal was for him to destroy them. And there was no way he would ever get the opportunity to do that.

He gingerly lay back on his bed, wincing as his clothing rubbed against the thin burns. At least this time he hadn't been locked in his room – that was one positive thing. It meant that as soon as Mother and Regulus left he would be able to emerge. Then he could find his wand and catch the Knight Bus to Hogsmead. A few hours from now, if all went well, he would be back in Hogwarts. He ought to get himself something else to eat first as well, he thought, his stomach groaning – why did the old hag have to make him throw up? Urrgh. He could still taste it in his throat. And he couldn't even get himself a drink!

Time crept past.

"Regulus! Get down here this instant. We're leaving. Now!"

Sirius almost jumped in surprise as he finally heard his mother's shrieked order, carrying clearly even as far as his room. He rose to his feet, and, quickly cracking open his door, heard Regulus' hurried footsteps clomping down the stairway from the floor below. He strained his ears, listening for any sign of their departure. Several minutes passed, but still his mother's voice could be heard. Come on! If you're going to leave, just get a move on! Finally a second set of footsteps could be heard descending, causing Sirius to frown in confusion.

"Come on!" he heard his mother snap, her voice travelling easily up the many flights of stairs. A second voice sounded a moment later, the words indistinguishable - but there was only one person who it could belong to... A brief second of silence followed before he again heard his mother. "I don't care if you had to check your potions, this is going to be cutting it fine, even for being fashionably late! After what that boy has been doing to the Black family name, we need to show as good an image as we can. Wait until you hear what he's been doing now! You'll be wanting to have a good word with him when we get back."

Her voice stopped. They were gone. His father had actually left the house. Sirius sat, staring at his door in shock. Great, he thought irately, he chooses tonight to emerge! If I'd known that earlier I could have saved myself a whole lot of trouble! But... this opened up a whole new realm of possibilities. Five minutes later Sirius was trotting quickly downstairs.

He'd make up his mind. He knew what he had to do.