Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.
"It's unfortunate, really, how many Mudbloods have been accepted to Hogwarts of late, Mother. I don't see how anyone could allow it to continue. Slytherin, at least, hasn't been so soiled of yet," Regulus Black said, over a goblet of expensive wine. Sirius tried to block out his brother's grating voice but he found it nearly impossible.
"I know, my boy, I know. At least you have the good sense to limit your experiences with such people. How your brother can stand a whole year in his house, I'll never know," Mrs. Black answered, shooting a condescending glare at her eldest son, who was resolutely staring at his plate.
A month into summer holiday and already Sirius was wishing to be back at Hogwarts. At least there he wouldn't have to hear his good-for-nothing brother simper around Mrs. Black all day, the two of them whining about Muggle-borns at Hogwarts. Sirius had for the most party kept himself cooped up in his room, but that lack of air was getting to him. He'd exchanged owls with James and Remus but it wasn't enough to take his mind off of the hell that he was living through every day.
Mrs. Black and Regulus continued to talk as if he wasn't there, and Sirius felt his jaw clenching. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the self-satisfied smirk on his mother's face mirrored in his younger brother's. Regulus Black was going into his fourth year at Hogwarts and had informed everyone about the new club that had undoubtedly started in the Slytherin house. Calling themselves the Death Eaters, it was a club that could only function in the Slytherin house, and it was entirely devoted to complaining about Muggle-born witches and wizards entering Hogwarts. Sirius shook his head, annoyed and impatient, and walked from the room while his mother was in the middle of commenting on the low sort of company Sirius seemed to enjoy keeping.
Even in the hallway, Sirius couldn't escape the hateful conversations going on in his house. Truly the black sheep of his family, Sirius was the only one who thought it was ridiculous to judge the caliber of witch or wizard on their lineage. After all, one just had to look at Peter to know that being Pureblood had absolutely nothing to do with one's skills as a wizard.
"Young Master Black is a disgrace to the great Black family. Oh, how it pains my mistress, it does," Kreacher, the house elf, hissed from the shadows. Sirius growled lowly under his breath and flung his goblet, which he had brought with him from the table, into to the corner where the useless servant's voice had come. An angry yelp gave Sirius the momentary satisfaction of knowing that the heavy goblet had hit the little varmint, but the feeling was fleeting and altogether gone by the time Sirius climbed up the rickety black staircase and reached his room.
Sirius felt his spirits begin to lift as the first thing that greeted him upon entering his large room was a familiar white dove. Snow, Treasure's bird, was perched loftily on the windowsill, a haughty look in her sapphire eyes as the dull glow from her golden beak and talons glinted from the candlelight.
"Have you got something for me, then?" Sirius asked, closing and locking the door behind him gratefully. The bird cooed but didn't move, and Sirius felt himself smiling for the first time in a while when he though of Treasure, and how her snooty carrier pigeon matched her owner's personality observably. Sirius walked across the room and took the letter from Snow's foot, unfolding it eagerly and wondering for moment about the accusatory look in the bird's eyes.
Sirius,
I hope you've been having an excellent summer.
Sirius rolled his eyes, glancing angrily at the door and moving closer to the candlelight so he could make out Treasure's wild handwriting better. He smiled to himself slightly, more anxious than ever to get back to Hogwarts.
I wouldn't know, of course, since you haven't written but I suppose you must be busy. Things are wonderful here in New York, but I've just left to the Salem Institute of the Magical Arts, and am going to be taking a two week course specializing in Transfiguration.
That isn't the most interesting part, though. We've been split up into groups of two and have each been given an instructor who specializes in spell invention! My partner is a boy from Georgia and I think he's got a bit of a crush on me. He's very good looking too, and he's got this odd little accent …
Sirius swore viciously at the letter, which went on for about eight more inches about Brent from Georgia and his amazing accent, and how his father has a farm full of magical creatures and a greenhouse filled with mandrake babies and Venomous Tentaculas. He crumpled up the parchment and threw it into a corner, cursing at Treasure with a passion that startled Snow into an indignant fit of ivory feathers.
"What ever is that matter, Sirius?" Mrs. Black said from the doorway. Sirius started, not having heard her magically unlock the door to his bedroom. Regulus was looking in over her shoulder, a smug grin on his pale lips. Sirius felt the urge to whip out his wand and erupt white hot boils over both their faces, and he would have, too, if it hadn't meant expulsion from Hogwarts. Then again, with Treasure off happily gallivanting on some farm with some Georgian farm boy, returning to Hogwarts was lacking the luster that had kept Sirius clinging to some semblance of sanity for the past month. With a disgusted snarl, Sirius made to throw out the letter and forget all about the twit.
"Accio!" Mrs. Black said unexpectedly, her wand out in an instant, and Treasure's letter zooming toward her through the air. "Oy!" Sirius bellowed, vaulting from his chair and standing with his fists clenched and shaking at his side.
"What is this, my boy? A letter from a girl?" Mrs. Black asked, her dark eyes glittering maliciously at him in mad sort of way. Sirius clenched his fists harder, watching her warily. After all, she had a wand and didn't have to worry about a Ministry hearing for using it. And Mrs. Black wasn't exactly known for her sanity, especially concerning her Mudblood loving eldest son.
"Sirius has a girlfriend," Regulus said nastily. Sirius's jaw clenched, Treasure's words echoing in his mind: My partner is a boy from Georgia…he's got a bit of a crush on me…he's so funny, Sirius, he raises nifflers on his farm!
"Doesn't look like she's very pleased with you, though, does it?" Regulus continued, reading over his mother's shoulder. "Brent, is it? It seems she thinks pretty highly of him, Sirius. He's promised her a phoenix hatchling!"
Snow gave an affronted coo from the top of Sirius's closet, but she was very studiously ignored.
"Give it here!" Sirius growled.
"Oh, oh, oh, Sirius. Don't tell me you are going to defend this American wretch? Off at Salem for two weeks, and according to her she's only been there three days and she's writing to you about some boy…No son of mine associates with such rubbish. I bet she's not even Pureblood -"
"She is!" Sirius broke in angrily, not knowing who to be more angry with: his mother, his brother or Treasure.
"No she isn't you filthy little liar! Your brother told me all about this piece of trash you seem to devote yourself to. Both her parents are Muggles!"
"They're a witch and a wizard, just like you and Father!" Sirius shouted.
"Mudbloods, both of them! Why do you do this to me, Sirius? Your poor, doting mother who only wants the best for you? First you get Sorted into Gryffindor, a house so infested with dung and shame of the wizarding world that I can barely stand to speak of you to relatives anymore!"
It was a tirade that Sirius was well used to, as he had heard it every day of every summer since getting Sorted into Gryffindor, but it didn't make it any easier to ignore. He felt his anger building steadily until he was in such a rage that he couldn't stand it anymore. It was impossible to think that he could stay one last summer in this house, when everything about it made his skin crawl.
"And then you continue to do injury to my poor heart by romancing a Mudblood and an American! You filth, you disgust me. Shame of my flesh! Disgrace to this most noble house!"
"Don't you dare insult her!" Sirius roared, forgetting for the moment that Treasure was miles away probably on some bloody farm in Georgia with Brent. Mrs. Black smiled sickeningly, for she had not forgotten.
"You are a failure and I no longer call you my son," she said in her sanest voice, which was enough to give anyone chills but Sirius was too angry to notice. "Thankfully I have your brother hear to comfort me. Stay, if you will; your father does not seem to abhor your presence under this roof as I do, but you are no son of mine!"
"Believe me, Mother, the sight of you is as loathsome to me almost as much as this house is odious!" Sirius snapped, his anger snapping. Mrs. Black shrieked at his blatant disregard for her position as his mother and set Treasure's letter alight, storming out of Sirius's dark room with Regulus at her heels.
Sirius glared at the flames of Treasures letter until they burned down to embers and finally pale white ashes. He kicked them aside as he pulled out his broomstick and trunk. It was time to for him leave Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, but his leaving had been long overdue.