Blood Thicker than Water
Sirius' Choice
A month after Christmas break in my second year at Hogwarts, I received an unexpected owl from none other than Sirius, my cousin and original heir to the house of Black. The brief, almost illegibly written letter surprised me for two reasons. Firstly, even though Sirius would eventually start a massive epistolary correspondence with the members of his group of close friends at Hogwarts, he was renowned among his relatives for refusing, even under Aunt Walburga's terrifying orders, to write anything even remotely resembling a letter. Secondly, the letter seemed to have been written on disenchanted parchment, as it lacked the Black family's crest seal. Our households only provided parchment enchanted to instantly produce the family's crest seal upon contact with ink. This enchantment also alerted the heads of the family of any epistolary activity within the house.
Even before opening it, Sirius' letter openly informed me that he had broken the family rules.
28th January 1967
Dear Meddie,
I'm in trouble. I didn't mean to hurt Kreacher, I swear. I couldn't help it, though, he was nagging at me for being a bad son, and that I should be crawling back to Mother on my knees and beg forgiveness for the bad things I've done to the name of the family. I just wanted everyone to leave me alone, but he was nagging at me through the door and saying stuff like Master Sirius should be more like young Master Regulus. I don't know how it happened, Meddie, but I guess I snapped. I gave him a beating, and I couldn't stop. He just curled up and let me do it. I only stopped when I saw he wasn't curled up anymore. I couldn't wake him up, and he still hasn't woken up. Mother and Father aren't that concerned, they're just
Mother and Father think that Kreacher can only have been hurt like this by the use of magic, and they're convinced that Walden McNair has done it. They're preparing for an actual duel. I don't know what to do, Meddie.
Sirius
Details in this letter do not provide a clear idea of what happened. As a thirteen-year-old, I needed three more clandestine letters from Sirius to piece the story together. The beating occurred during a meeting behind closed doors between the Black, the McNair and the Malfoy patriarchs. There was a history of hate between the Blacks and the McNairs: they belonged to the wizarding oligarchy controlling the extensive trade network in Knockturn Alley and beyond. That fateful day, under the supervision of Abraxas Malfoy, Uncle Orion and McNair Sr. were attempting to negotiate through their power struggle.
Walden, the burly eighteen-year-old McNair Jr. fresh out of Hogwarts, was visiting too that day, under instructions to stay away from Uncle Orion's study. He was known for having been suspended numerous times from Hogwarts, caught displaying instances of animal cruelty. When Kreacher was found half-dead after the meeting, my Black relatives leapt for the sudden opportunity to exact vengeance. Uncle Orion blamed Walden for the beating and used it as evidence for the McNairs' attempt to stain the Blacks' honor.
"They won't believe it's me," said Sirius, about a week after the incident. The Headmaster, Armando Dippet back then, had granted me permission to use the Floo powder to visit my cousin in distress. Oblivious about all the wrong things as always, Aunt Walburga believed my story about needing books from the main library and let me in their unwelcoming house. Sirius looked anguished.
"I don't think you can change their mind, Sirius. They want this to happen," I said. Sirius, who had been pacing around his bedroom, stopped dead.
"You mean they just see what they want to see? They'll turn a blind eye on me just to kill off McNair Sr. for their own convenience?"
I felt ashamed to be the one explaining just how Pureblood politics worked to my younger cousin. I didn't know much about it myself, but I had always known how duels worked, and how common they were among the higher tier of wizarding community.
"They won't go through with it if I show them the letter I wrote to you. Meddie, if you back me up, we could stop the duel from happening!" exclaimed Sirius, resuming his pacing. I remember looking at him, at his awkward long limbs. I wanted to feel at least surprised by the idea that Sirius almost killed a house-elf with his own bare hands. Observing the wide, sweeping movements of his already strong arms, the powerful strides of his restless legs, I could only notice his undeniable resemblance to Bella. I could perfectly envision him beating poor Kreacher, in the same way I could recollect my older sister's mad eyes as she beat a dying Diana.
"I won't back you up, Sirius. Admitting your actions would only bring shame on our whole family. It would only worsen our relations with the McNairs, if that can even be possible," I finally said. My thirteen-year-old instincts fiercely supported Sirius' intentions; my older and more jaded soul knew, however, that preventing Uncle Orion from dueling McNair Sr. would only mean sure punishment for Sirius. Something of this scale would bring about a punishment far worse than the customary fortnight's worth of isolation in the attic.
Sirius changed after this experience. I think he regarded my attempt to protect him as the ultimate betrayal, especially coming from someone he considered as his favorite cousin. What he never knew is that when, give or take ten years later, Barty Crouch Sr. requested Narcissa and I to hand in any letters sent to or from Sirius, the newest Azkaban convict, I lied again. This letter, written when he was just ten years old, would only have confirmed him as a natural born murderer. I locked up the three letters I ever received from my cousin and never showed them to a living soul.
It took me five years to decide whether or not to include this specific portrayal of Sirius in the memoir. My eighty-year old instincts told me I should. My desire to protect Sirius' idealized image, supported by the current History of Magic textbooks and by Harry Potter himself, told me not to. I concluded that a living Sirius would have firmly opposed to my tampering with history.
Sirius Black could have become just as dark as Bellatrix. He was a wild, uncontrollable spirit for as long as I can remember. No rules, no bribes and no punishments ever had any effect on him. After years of bad parenting, Aunt Walburga gave up on trying to educate him. The incident with Kreacher proved to me that Sirius undoubtedly had Black blood running in his veins. His determination to tell the truth, to prevent his Father from executing an injustice, however, demonstrated that he was born with basic, unshakeable principles. Only a Sorting into Slytherin would have been able to twist those principles in the wrong way.
When Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor half a year after the business with Kreacher, my sisters and I all knew, deep down, that we had lost him.