A/N: The result of too much Irn Bru – this actually started out with a Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire idea. I only got about 1 paragraph in and found myself unable to translate the idea into words. The idea simply was that Joffrey (also known to me as TPLS – That Psychopathic Little Shit) over some slight crucifies Tommen's cat. I intended this to be set after Arryn's death but before the Court sets off North. The idea is that it is discovered by Barristan Selmy, who finally gains some steel in his spine, and drags Joffrey before his father, possibly putting to the sword every Lannister soldier between the Prince's chamber and the King's Solar. Result Joffrey – Night's Watch, and I hadn't exactly planned much further.
When this failed as I found myself unable to write it, instead of having Selmy finally driven to breaking point, I decided to move to the HP world, and wondered what if something drove Sirius, not to flee to the Potters, but drove him to action. The trigger will be mentioned at the very end.
Insolence in every utterly relaxed muscle, Sirius lounged in his chair. The Blackthrone, a great seat of ebony, towering, carved with Gothic motifs from the clawed feat that rested on its own dais to the huge canopy ten feet above, was empty, with none sat there. At the right hand of the Blackthrone, in a lesser seat, sat Walburga Black, technically usurping Orion Black's seat as heir to the family. Sirius himself slumped in the seat to the left of the Blackthrone as second in line to the headship of the family.
"A DISGRACE TO THE FAMILY!" his banshee mother screeched, then lowered her voice to the hiss of an angry snake; "You cavort with mudbloods, consort with blood traitors, and refuse to heed my commands."
Sirius carefully inspected his fingernails. He'd learned that allowing them to grow too far or too sharp was not appreciated by his bedfellows, capable turning a firm caress into a graze or a scratch with too much enthusiasm.
"Blah blah traitors blah blah filthy animals blah mudblood blah traitorous scum blah blah blah blah disgrace to the name of Black blah blah no son of mine blah." Sirius tuned out his mother in favour of looking around at his family.
Poor Reggie's head was snapping from mother to him and back, not truly understanding what was going on. Cygnus was stony-faced, his eyes cold and face empty of expression. Fairly typical. Pollux and Cassiopeia just looked tired and resigned. The only indication of any real emotion from Sirius was a slight narrowing of the eyes at his father. Weak and feckless, how the man had ever even managed to get out of the dog basket to sire two children by Walburga he would never understand.
Andromeda was pale, wide-eyed and trembling with anger. Narcissa looked utterly terrified. She'd never been the strong one of the Sisters Black. Bellatrix lounged in her own seat with the same insolent relaxation that Sirius did, simply waiting out the storm to see who would come on top. Relegated to an alcove in the corner, Alphard looked thunderous, but did not have the guts to speak out.
"-and you shall have until seven days hence to renounce your blood-traitor friends, cease to cavort with mudbloods, and swear fealty to the Lord." Walburga's irritating voice informed him, as she was panting and beginning to froth at the mouth.
A thin smile appeared on Sirius' face, mentally wondering what her heart-rate was.
"Grandfather already has my vow of fealty, such as I took when I turned fifteen and entered the line of inheritance." Sirius informed her.
"That is not the Lord I mean." Walburga hissed.
"Oh, perhaps this 'Lord Voldemort' I've heard so much about." Sirius' smile grew stony.
"He will restore the pure to our rightful place, and exterminate the mudbloods. And the House of Black shall be his right hand! It will be so with or without you." Walburga's voice was that of one more of the many fanatics Sirius had heard, and reaffirmed his decision to tread a long and difficult path. It did not lead to the thick fortress walls behind which lay the safety of Charlus Potter and the friendship of his son James, but instead led to the Blackthrone.
"Ah, my poor, deluded mother." drawled Sirius; "So idealistic, so foolish."
She was truly frothing at the mouth now, but he continued nonetheless.
"You never were very clever, were you. No, I fear I have fed more intelligent swine in the pig pens at Hogwarts." Sirius voice lashed at Walburga like the crack of a whip in the otherwise silent hall; "Voldemort... Voldemort... Voldemort... such a name for 'Our Lord'. Where in the lineages do we see it, ancient or new? I tell you... NONE!" he roared, taking to his feet; "You would have me, a BLACK, ON BENDED KNEE, on bended knee before some PRETENDER!" a deep breath allowed him to calm himself; "No, I will not kneel before him. Perhaps you should learn some French... I have, from a mudblood friend of mine. Vol, flight. De, of. Mort, death. Flight of Death, what kind of pretentious name is that? Nor is he Lord of anything, I have read the magical lineages, the Lords of the Wizengamot, I have even seen the peerages of the muggle world. No Voldemort appears on either."
'I am sorry mother, but a mad dog should be put out of its, and most importantly – my – misery, and I would have no other do what is my duty.' Sirius gazed at his mother's form, the frothing at the mouth becoming bloody, her muscles spasming uncontrollably.
"For all your paranoia mother, you underestimated me, thought I would either heed your commands and follow at heal, or slink off like a beaten whelp. A mad dog such as you should not try to bite a wolf." Sirius sighed; "I smeared a poison on the inside of your goblet, slow acting, but due to your elevated heart-rate, well, I expect total organ failure within the next few minutes. The damage done is already irreparable. Had you not been so, I would have spiked your next goblet with the antidote. Taggy!"
An elf popped in, smartly swathed in a blood-red toga with a black sash banded about its waist. Sirius had bought the young elf and had certain expectations of physical presentation, of literacy and articulation.
"My lord." Taggy bowed to Sirius.
"The platter, for my mother."
The elf snapped his fingers and vanished. Placed on the table before the Blackthrone, facing his dying mother was a silver platter, gleaming with the blood that stained it from what lay on it – the head of a black bull.
"Father... dear father... perhaps it is time that you set aside your burdens and took a long holiday to somewhere warm, with nice beaches and accommodating women." Sirius stated with a winning smile, his comment punctuated by a sickening crack as Walburga's spasms grew so violent that her spine broke.
Orion's wide, uncomprehending eyes and empty face barely even looked to his eldest son.
"You have but one wand. You think you can take us all?" Cygnus enquired with stern politeness, ever the statesman that his father had never been. He made no movement to draw a wand, nor to even stand, it was merely a question.
"And risk losing access to the antidote for the poison I used today?" Sirius raised an eyebrow; "Besides, I have some loyal friends, who may now ENTER!"
The doors at the end of the dining room crashed off the wood pannelling as James and Remus stormed in, wands held loosely in their hands, ready to fight. Each also carried a knife at their waist, a useful weapon for a close-quarters fight.
"Nor are they his only allies!" a strong voice proclaimed.
Andromeda threw back her chair and drew her wand, moving to stand by her cousin's shoulder.
"This is a Black Family matter, and you bring in a stranger who shares no blood with us?" Cassiopeia raised an eyebrow at Remus Lupin.
"It ceased being a Black Family matter when it concerned treason, sedition and MADNESS!" another voice thundered.
Charlus Potter walked behind his son, carrying himself with a strange lope, never having quite recovered from a limp caused by a machine-gun bullet that caused severe damage to his hip during the Second World War. Yet he walked with calm confidence, his wife alongside him. He had fought in several wars, fought dozens of duels and knew more battle magic than many scholars whose lives had gone into the study of the subject. He knew he was the most dangerous person in the room.
"The Bitch failed to issue me with the summons to this meeting, such as I should have received as a Black." Dorea informed them.
As he passed, Charlus paused next to Sirius, his hand firmly placed on the teenager's shoulder.
"You are taking a burden on, a heavy one."
"I know." Sirius took a deep breath. "But it is a duty I will not shy away from. You taught me that much." he then lowered his voice to a whisper that even Charlus strained to hear; "Father."
A grim smile appeared on Charlus' face as he clapped Sirius on the shoulder, indicating the Blackthrone.
"Good lad." he murmured.
"I will make my stand now." Alphard sighed; "I never had the strength to, but I will not let my family fall to ruin, on our knees before this 'Voldemort', who my late sister so espoused."
He moved to alongside Charlus, drawing his wand.
"The path of the House of Black is set." Cygnus nodded and stood, simply moving to stand behind his chair.
"Cousin. What of us?" Bellatrix asked shrewdly.
"Your actions are your own, cousin. I will not force a choice on any of you." Sirius intoned solemnly.
Bellatrix looked thoughtful before standing and moving behind her chair, her cloak hiding Narcissa, a child of no more than twelve who should have not had to watch this conflict or suffer the burdens. The young blonde briefly stared from where she was huddled against her sister's side. Bellatrix's path would ever be two steps ahead of Narcissa as she tried to shield her from the real world.
"It is decided." Pollux agreed.
"Be seated." Sirius instructed, moving to stand in front of the Blackthrone, but making no effort himself to sit, even as his friends, family and allies joined the table, his elf popping in and out thrice more, removing first his late mother, his comatose father and the bull's head.
Silence fell as Sirius gazed on each person, before deciding what to say after a few long moments.
"Until further instructed, or until infringed upon, the House of Black will take no active part in this conflict. Should we be attacked, be it physically, magically, verbally or by written word, we will retaliate." he informed the Black Council; "That neutrality does not preclude gathering intelligence. Identifying the supporters and active members of this conflict, on both sides. I believe Lady Cassiopeia is quite capable in this field."
"My lord." Cassiopeia inclined her head.
"However, no support is to be offered, particularly to this pretender, Voldemort. I have heard of his actions, the actions of a genocidal maniac. I believe if you want to learn about the subject, you should ask my Lord Uncle, Charlus, about a visit to a place called Bergen-Belsen in 1945." Sirius' face, a few minutes before free of cares was now stony-cold.
Charlus froze in his seat, and met Sirius gaze for a moment, before bowing his head slightly. He knew what Voldemort wanted, because he'd seen it before. And he'd shown Sirius, James and Remus the photographs the year before, when this so-called 'Lord' came to prominence. As much as he hated what he'd done, to utterly destroy their innocence, he knew there would soon be no place in their little world for boyish dreams.
Theirs was a world that was tumbling inexorably into a bloody conflict.