Sirius's last few days at Hogwarts passed by, as always, all too quickly, and it felt like no time at all before he was stepping off the Hogwarts Express with Regulus and Apparating with his mother back to Grimmauld Place. The other Marauders had been more than a little concerned about Sirius returning home to his parents, especially after witnessing the form his Boggart took, but Sirius had insisted he would be fine—whatever else he was, he was still a Black, and that meant there was a limit to what his parents would dare to do to him. Still, James had gifted him an enchanted two-way mirror he'd bought before they left so that Sirius could communicate with him in case of any emergency. It certainly was faster than waiting for owl post.

Upon returning home, the boys were immediately ordered to dress for dinner—they were hosting a Black family reunion, Walburga explained, in honor of the Black boys returning home from their year at Hogwarts, which Sirius knew really meant in honor of Regulus returning home from his year at Hogwarts—certainly no one here was going to be celebrating him. But Sirius felt too tired from the long train ride to argue or say something smart, and he knew there was no getting out of his mother's plans either way, so he went obediently up to his room and changed into the dinner robes Walburga had laid out for him, his only hint of rebelliousness a tiny lion pin he attached to his lapel.

When he came downstairs, he saw as he'd suspected that "Black family reunion" really meant "dinner party with the Blacks his parents still liked." Andy and Ted Tonks weren't there with their baby daughter, and neither was Sirius's favorite Uncle Alphie. His cousin Bellatrix sat with her new husband Rodolphus Lestrange, and beside them was her sister Narcissa and her fiancé Lucius Malfoy—the man, Sirius remembered, who had accidentally given the Marauders their name. He supposed he should thank him for it. Cygnus and Druella Black, Bellatrix and Narcissa's parents, were present as well, sitting at the head of the table opposite Sirius's parents.

Sirius took his seat beside Regulus, who avoided his eyes; Sirius still felt a pang somewhere in his heart every time he saw his brother like this, Orion and Walburga's obedient, attentive son, shackled to the family name with golden chains. Regulus was the person Sirius so easily could've become had things gone just a little differently in his life.

The food came out quickly, platters of braised meats and fish and creamed spinach. It had been prepared by Kreacher with assistance from a house-elf owned by the Malfoys—Sirius was glad for it, as the food wound up tasting infinitely better than Kreacher's usual fare.

"You and your husband should visit more often, Bellatrix," said Orion Black as they ate. "I don't believe we've seen either of you since the wedding."

"Rodolphus and I have been busy carrying out business for the Dark Lord," Bellatrix replied. She shifted her arm, and Sirius caught a glimpse of the snake and skull inked into its underside that marked her as a Death Eater. Thinking about the kinds of business she must be doing for Voldemort made him feel sick to his stomach. "This Order of the Phoenix Dumbledore's put together is a right piece of work, let me tell you."

"Dumbledore needs to stick to teaching his students," Walburga muttered. "I've half a mind to pull my boys out of Hogwarts given all he's been getting himself into." Sirius balled his hands into fists—his mother would take him out of Hogwarts over his dead body. "But no other wizarding school in Europe could compete with the prestige of Salazar Slytherin's House."

"What about Godric Gryffindor's House?" Sirius couldn't help but ask.

His mother fixed him with a glare. "Gryffindor has lost whatever prestige it once had, I'm afraid. Too many Mudbloods let in." A sneer curled her lips. "I've heard from Regulus that you consort regularly with one of their lot."

She meant Peter, Sirius realized with a rush of anger. "I wasn't aware I had to check the blood status of my classmates before deciding to befriend them."

"You should," said Druella Black. "Your choice of peers reflects upon your entire family."

"I suppose you aren't too pleased to have your daughters hanging about with Voldemort, then? A mass murderer set on terrorizing the entire Wizarding world?"

"You dare speak his name?" Lucius Malfoy asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Of course I dare. I won't call that git You-Know-Who or the Dark Lord or whatever other bollocks you've managed to come up with."

"Brave boy," said Bellatrix. Her mouth twisted into a maniacal grin. "Or a stupid one. I suppose time will tell."

"Indeed."

"The Dark Lord hardly ever kills anyone himself," Rodolphus Lestrange said. "He's got more than enough allies to do his bidding for him. Death Eaters, giants…I hear the werewolves are particularly effective."

"Oh, he's all right then, I suppose," Sirius growled. "Having others do his dirty work makes it all okay. Sending werewolves after the children of anyone who disobeys him…." Sirius thought of Remus and felt the blood turn to fire in his veins. "Well, that's all very noble, isn't it? Certainly sounds like the kind of wizard—"

"Suffoxo!" Orion flicked his wand at his son, and Sirius felt his windpipe closing up, cutting off the air from his lungs. He raised a hand to his throat, gagging.

"While you are sitting at this table, eating our food, you will show your family some respect," Orion snarled. "You hear me, boy?" Sirius nodded, stars swimming in his eyes.

Orion released the hex. Sirius hunched forward and coughed as he fought to regain his breath. Regulus turned away from him, biting his lip.

"Serves you right," Walburga sneered. "Next time you speak out of turn like that, I'll have your father hold that spell until you pass out. That'll teach you."

Sirius nodded silently and fought back the tears gathering in his eyes. Remus would tell him to keep his head down for the rest of the summer and do as his parents wanted—Peter would say the same, probably—and James would tell Sirius to give them a fight instead; but none of them understood what it was like for him, living in a home infused with the sickening aura of hate and anger, struggling constantly between the basic human instinct of self-preservation and desperation to set himself apart from everything, the hate and the anger and whatever else made his family the way that it was. To prove that he was not a Black, even though he knew in his bones that doing so would be impossible.

Already he could tell that this summer was going to feel very, very long.