'Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Warning: Cruelty, mild violence.
Chapter 13 – Consequences & Reflection
Sirius followed a few paces behind the old house elf, his feet dragging against the plush pile of the deep green carpeting, his hands shoved nervously into the pockets of his dress robes. So intent was he on the meeting at hand, Sirius stopped in front of the parlor, not realizing that Kreacher had continued ahead.
"They are waiting in your father's study, Master Sirius," the house elf called back to him, not bothering to turn around.
Sirius swallowed audibly and hurried along the corridor to catch up. A moment later, they were standing before the closed mahogany doors of his father's study. Kreacher rapped once and, at Orion's command of, "Enter!" the house elf turned toward Sirius.
"Young Master shouldn't make them wait," he simpered, the sneer on his face betraying his true feelings for the young wizard standing before him.
"Stuff it," Sirius murmured as he squared his shoulders and brushed past the servant with a bravado he did not feel.
"Sit down, Sirius," Orion commanded from his seat behind his elaborate desk. Sirius did as he was bid, recalling his earlier conversation with his mother and, thinking that although the setting was different, the atmosphere was very much the same.
"Kreacher said both you and mother were waiting," Sirius stated, glancing around curiously when he did not immediately locate Walburga in the room.
"Your mother will speak with you later," his father said shortly. "I wanted to speak with you alone before she did so."
Interesting, Sirius thought to himself. Bit of a different approach, this. Can't be good, but at least I'm not outnumbered.
"Sirius, our family has remained loyal to our motto, 'Toujours Pur' throughout our long history; those who have forgotten themselves have, in fact, been cast out – disowned, if you will. We only marry fellow Purebloods to ensure the continuation of a line unsullied by those who are not of our class. While preserving our traditions, this has, regrettably narrowed the pool of available witches and wizards with whom we can marry. Ofelia Bullstrode is your third cousin and will make an excellent addition to the Black family. This plan has been in place since you were a very small child. We intend that the plan will become a reality; it is your responsibility to make it so," Orion stopped and leaned forward, clasping his hands upon the gleaming surface of his desk. "It is my understanding that you have formed tight bonds with several boys in Gryffindor House. Two are Purebloods, although it appears that they are devotees of Albus Dumbledore. They have blatantly turned away from our ways, our traditions; this makes them unsuitable companions for the heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Don't interrupt me," he commanded, noting Sirius' quick intake of breath and belligerent expression. "I'm not finished." The man rose from his chair and stood gazing out of the window overlooking the gardens drenched in the cold, winter moonlight, his back to his elder son. "Whilst these are unsuitable wizards, I am not motivated to disallow you their companionship – nor that of John Lupin's son." Orion turned back to face Sirius, his stern features sharper, more cunning as he said this. "Ah, yes – I do know about your friendship with young Lupin, the half-blood. He is physically weak, sickly – a testament to what comes of these mixed marriages. Even so, as long as you are not so ill advised as to attempt to bring the boy here, I am willing to allow that association to continue. At school, and until you finally graduate. After that, you will take your rightful place in the family, with Ofelia at your side."
Sirius shook his head. "Father, please. I do not want this. Ofelia doesn't want this; didn't you see her tonight when her father told her about transferring to Hogwarts?"
Orion came around and sat in the chair next to his son. "Ofelia will do what her parents wish her to do; it is for the betterment of their family, after all. She understands her duty. I wish I could say the same for you."
Sirius' hands fidgeted where they lay in his lap. "I am not interested in her," he said quietly. "I am not interested in marrying her simply to continue the family line. Perhaps Regulus would step in; he seems to enjoy the role of dutiful son. Make him the heir – and let me live my own life."
"NO!" Orion's voice roared from his flushed face and he leapt from his chair so abruptly that it crashed to the floor behind him.
Sirius started at the sound and sight of his father's fury. Despite his fear of his father's temper, Sirius experienced a small kernel of satisfaction that he was able to drive his father to his current state. Orion Black's contribution to his son's genetic make-up had been the very same tendency toward explosive rage. This Sirius understood.
Orion stood before Sirius, quivering in that self-same rage. "You are the heir – not Regulus, you! You will drop your belligerent, disrespectful, disgraceful attitude and you will do as you are told. While you're about it, you will also stop your indiscriminate bedroom activities, as well, unless you can be a damned site more discreet about them – and can confine yourself to Slytherin House and more worthy candidates. You are barely 16 years old, for Merlin's sake! You will spend your time with Ofelia; you will get to know her and be respectful of her. Make no mistake, boy, you will marry her – and you will produce an heir. Once you have done so, it will be immaterial to me where you spend your nights."
Sirius was silent, knowing that saying anything else at the moment was fruitless. He had pushed his father beyond the limits of his endurance and had been driven beyond the limits of his own, as well. His father's suggestion of bedding Slytherin witches was more than disgusting to him and he was anxious for his father's speech to run its course so he could escape to his room.
Orion took the time to collect himself, bringing his breathing under control. Slowly, he reached down and righted the fallen chair before resuming his seat behind his desk. Observing his son with a shrewd eye, he delivered the final blow.
"You will disassociate yourself from that Morgan witch and you will do so immediately upon your return to Hogwarts. Her family is a disgrace to Purebloods, as her own father proved several years ago. You will terminate your dalliance with this girl and will direct those efforts toward your future wife," Orion paused, relishing the silence that greeted what he perceived to be the finishing touch to his conversation with the boy. His self-congratulations were short lived, however.
Sirius slowly raised his face to his father. "Kate is not a disgrace, whatever her family might be. She is my friend." He stuck out his chin stubbornly.
Orion shook his head. "She is no friend to the House of Black," he said quietly. "Obviously, my son, you need time to consider what is expected of you. I believe some time spent away from the activities and traffic of the household would afford you ample opportunity to come to terms with our expectations."
Sirius felt a chill settle over him. "Throw the uncooperative heir in solitary confinement for awhile until he comes to his senses, is it?"
Orion's face flushed but he did not advance closer to his son. "It would certainly appear to be what you need." He leaned over to the side of his desk and rang a small brass bell. Instantly, Kreacher appeared in the room.
"Master?"
"Take young Master Black below stairs, Kreacher. Make sure he is secure," Orion commanded, tossing a set of keys to the house elf who caught them with a smile of grim delight on his face. "When you return with the keys, bring me a bottle of brandy from my stores."
"Of course, Master," Kreacher bowed low, his long nose touching the rich carpet on which he stood.
"Get up," Orion snarled to his son. "Go with Kreacher and give him no trouble. Oh, and I'll have your wand, as well." As Sirius rose, he looked at his father incredulously.
"My wand?"
Orion smiled. "Your wand, Sirius. What hope do I have that you will learn a lesson from this experience if I allow you to keep the one thing that would better your conditions? If you cooperate and do as I have asked, I will consider returning it to you. If you do not, well, let's not wander into that area of thought just yet, shall we?"
Sirius fixed his father with a hard glare as he placed his wand in Orion's extended palm with slightly more force than was necessary.
Without removing his gaze from his son's face, Orion called out, "Kreacher? Please take my son to his temporary accommodations."
Feeling a tug on his sleeve, Sirius looked down to see the house elf grinning up at him. "Come, young Master. Follow me." Reluctantly, Sirius followed he servant from the room, closing the door behind him.
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"How was your conversation with Sirius?" the icy voice of Walburga Black cut through the warmth of the library.
Orion turned as his wife crossed the room and took a seat opposite him before the blazing fire. Handing her a snifter of brandy he smiled. "Sirius will be spending the next day or so considering his behavior and his responsibilities to this family. He is far too headstrong for his own good."
Walburga accepted the glass, a grim smile gracing her features as she listened to what her husband had to say. "He understands that he must give up that little Morgan chit, does he not?"
Orion shook his head. "I got the impression that our elder son has no intention of giving up his friendship, as he terms it, with Roderick Morgan's daughter. I suspect time alone with his thoughts might make him reconsider."
Walburga smiled. "Indeed." She sipped her brandy for a while, considering the crackling fire before speaking again. "Does he know the truth about Roderick Morgan?"
Orion shook his head. "No. It is not yet time, my dear. I will inform him of his friend's connection to our family when I feel it is appropriate. He has enough to digest at the moment. Too much information may be … counterproductive, as it were."
The couple sat in silence for a while before Orion spoke again. "Please speak with Kreacher to ensure that Sirius receives modest supplies of food and water while he's confined. I want to teach him a lesson, not kill the boy."
Walburga nodded, her face taking on a curious expression. "You didn't allow him his wand, did you?"
Orion's brow furrowed. "No, of course not; why do you ask?"
"No reason," his wife said quickly. "I was simply thinking that we'd hardly want him turning the room into a palace and modest meals into a banquet. This is a punishment, after all."
Orion nodded.
Walburga placed the empty snifter on the table and rose gracefully. She crossed to her husband, leaned down and gave him a light kiss on the cheek. "I shall just go and attend to Sirius' meals before retiring. Good night, Orion."
"Good night, Walburga."
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The sound of the house elf's steps grew faint as he moved away from the small stone cell in the basement. Sirius shivered at the cold. Kreacher had taken the lantern with him and now the only source of light in the small room came from a high window and the three-quarter-moon hanging low in the sky. Sirius heard the distant thud of the closing door, followed by the muted scrape of a lock being turned then, silence.
Sirius walked the short distance to the hard, pew-style wooden bench that had been pushed against the far wall of the room. He sat down heavily and drew his robes tighter around his body in an attempt to keep warm. Sirius glanced around him, wondering how long he'd be left in the small room this time. He snorted. The 12 x 18, stone space was adjacent to his father's prized wine cellar and had become Orion's favorite place to store his less-than-prized heir when Sirius' behavior became too much for his parents to deal with. The booze has it better than I do, Sirius thought to himself. The temperature in the wine cellar was magically climate controlled to preserve the integrity of its contents. The field stone room Sirius occupied, however, had no heating source, and only the window for light. At least the window's closed, Sirius mused. With no blanket or other protection from the chill, Sirius knew that the conditions would be unbearable. He despaired the absence of his wand, but his father had learned to collect it from him after his first "incarceration" in the remote cellar of the house. When Orion came to check on Sirius at the end of his first full day, he discovered his elder son lounging in an overstuffed chair, lazily munching on a large chicken leg and sipping a butter beer…all of which had been conjured after Orion had locked the boy in. Sirius smiled at the memory of his father's complete shock when he opened the heavy wooden door and found his son thus engaged. His smile vanished, however, when he recalled how quickly his father had reacted, banishing everything but the hard wooden bench, cancelling the warming charm and confiscating Sirius' wand. His cheek, as Orion had dubbed his behavior, had earned the boy an additional day in the cold room. While his father's close contacts at the Ministry would prevent Sirius' from suffering any repercussions at his use of magic outside Hogwarts, there was nothing that would help him avoid the consequences of his actions at home.
Sirius was brought from his reverie by the sound of footsteps approaching the door. He rose and walked toward the door just as the sound of jingling keys came through the door's narrowly barred window. A moment later, his mother slipped through the door and closed it firmly behind her. Sirius felt his heart drop. While his father believed that banishment was the best course of punishment for his uncooperative son, Sirius knew that his mother preferred a more hands on approach to discipline. He steeled himself for what he knew, from experience, would be a very unpleasant confrontation.
"Well, well, well, my son," Walburga purred, eyes glittering dangerously as she approached the shivering boy. "Look where your stubbornness has led you." She waved her hand around, indicating the damp stone of the walls and the floor – finishing with the locked door. Dropping the keys into the pocket of her heavy, woolen cloak, she gave her son a cold smile. "How are you enjoying your new accommodations?"
Sirius met her gaze. He would not give in to her, despite the fact that this was the attitude that had landed him here in the first place. He shrugged and made a show of looking around him, doing his best to appear nonchalant. "Well," Sirius drawled. "I can't say the conditions are up to the Black family standards, but neither am I, I hear, so I guess it's alright, then."
The force of Walburga's slap spun Sirius around and his hand flew to his throbbing cheek as he struggled to remain silent. I will not give her the satisfaction.
"Look at me!" his mother's voice rang in the small space, and he complied.
"You certainly are not up to the standards of this family," she spat. "But you will be." Walburga drew her wand and pointed it at Sirius' chest. "Spiculus!"
Sirius clutched his chest against the stinging sensation that resulted from his mother's hex. He made no sound, the fact of which appeared to incense Walburga further. She stepped toward him, placing her wand against his left shoulder. "Spiculus maxima!" At her whispered hex, the stinging sensation was enhanced well beyond that of her initial attack, the prodding of her wand into his shoulder muscle adding to his pain. Sirius ground his teeth together to keep from crying out and maintained his eye contact with the woman in front of him. They held their position for several seconds. "Finite Incantatem!" Walburga ended the hex and returned her wand to her cloak.
Sirius automatically brought his hand to his injured shoulder, but even that slight pressure shot pain through the joint and down to the tips of his fingers. He dropped his hand by his side.
"You will learn, my son, that crossing me will result in swift punishment," Walburga said, her voice matching the temperature of the room. "You will also learn to behave with the respect and decorum that befits the heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. Your failure to do so will only make your situation worse. Consider what you have just experienced a mere sample of what will come should you not cooperate fully in assuming your duties and comporting yourself appropriately."
Sirius remained silent, focusing on the wall behind his mother in an attempt to hold his composure.
"Still nothing to say, my son?" Walburga approached him again, placing a hand on his injured shoulder and squeezing it tightly. This, finally, brought a quiet moan from the boy and she released him in satisfaction. "You're so weak; so lacking in the qualities and characteristics that define our family. You cast your lot with half bloods and traitors. Now, you have experienced a bit of what awaits them all once Purebloods return to their natural position of power and dominance in our world. Tell me, my son, are your friendships worth the pain you have just experienced at my hand? Are they worth one thousand times that pain and suffering? Are they worth living in a cell as this one? A cell without warmth? Without nourishment? I urge you to take the time we've given you to consider well our plans for your future."
Sirius stood in place, every ounce of fight he'd felt since returning to Grimmauld Plance deserting him. Suddenly, he was overcome by the need to hold his mother accountable for her actions; for the actions of his father. While he couldn't have put it in those terms, he only knew that suddenly he felt … lost. It was a feeling he was not accustomed to, one he had pushed down whenever it had reared its head. It was a feeling that his friends had helped him push aside; but his relationship with those friends – with Kate who helped him most of all – was now threatened and Sirius honestly didn't know what he could do about it. "Why are you doing this to me?" Sirius' voice was no more than a whisper and Walburga, who had turned toward the door, was forced to turn back toward her son.
"Did you say something?" she asked.
"Why are you doing this to me?" he repeated. "Why does what I do matter so much to you?"
Walburga considered her son for a moment before answering. "We are Blacks, Sirius. Our history, our place in our world demands that we behave in a certain way. You are the heir to the Black family name; you are destined to carry it onward."
"I am also your son."
Walburga's eyes widened in surprise. "Isn't that what we've been saying to you all along? You are a Black; you are our son."
Sirius shook his head in frustration. "That's not what I mean! I know I'm a Black; sweet Merlin, that's been pounded into my head for as long as I can remember. What I'm asking you is how you can do this to me." Sirius paused as he gestured to his chest, then to his shoulder. "As my mother, how can you do this to me? You treat Regulus as your son, but never me; why is it never me?"
It seemed that the quiet, plaintive pitch of her son's voice, with vulnerability not often, if ever present to her ears, gave Walburga a moment of pause. The harsh line of her mouth softened briefly and she gazed at his face silently for a long minute. Her own expression then resumed its harsh appearance and she spoke. "Regulus, young as he is, knows his place and his purpose in this family. He has embraced them both. You, on the other hand, do not and therefore, must be taught." She walked once again to the door, opening it to take her leave before stopping once again. "I could ask the same of you, Sirius; as my son, how can you do this to me? As a small boy, you bore the heritage of the Black family as a badge of honor, but that did not last. Family and position are everything, Sirius. You threw it away for the chance to associate with those who are beneath us. I will never understand you; but I will ensure that you honor your responsibilities and live up to your heritage." She continued through the door and closed it softly behind her.
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Once outside the door, Walburga stopped and leaned against the chilled stone wall of the corridor. She placed a hand to her chest in a gesture eerily reminiscent of her son's actions earlier in the evening. Walburga had not felt any emotion but frustrated anger at her elder child for so long that what she was currently experiencing felt strange to her. She sighed softly as images of Sirius as a baby, then toddler, and then young child flooded her mind. He had been such a beautiful baby, resembling her father in looks and her husband in disposition. Walburga recalled with pride how swiftly the boy had developed, how superior his intellect, how early and powerful the first manifestations of magic had appeared in him. How proud she and Orion had been of this, their first-born son. Walburga had fulfilled expectations and produced a male heir with her first pregnancy – and a robust and handsome heir he was. She closed her eyes as she recalled how they had planned for his future: Hogwarts, as a member of Slytherin House, of course – the proud house of so many of their family. Afterward, a career befitting the young scion of such a powerful family. Marriage, to a fellow Pureblood bride and children to continue the line. Years of dutiful subservience to his family's traditions. The life all Purebloods schemed for. But, it was not to be. Sirius made his first venture into the Muggle world during a visit to his Uncle Alphard. Walburga's mouth turned down at the corners as she remembered her husband's uncle. Long disowned by the family, Alphard Black had made his own fortune, invested it well and lived comfortably in France. Sirius adored him and the affection had been immediately and irrevocably returned. Alphard ventured into Muggle Paris with all the joviality and sense of adventure of a child and he had imbued his young, great-nephew with that perspective at a very young age. To Sirius' protest that these were not "Purebloods", Alphard had acted swiftly, but gently, explaining to the child that all people were worthy of great things – both good and bad – and all deserved respect and courtesy. Alphard stressed that everyone could learn from each other and that the purity of one's blood mattered little in the large landscape of life. That seed had taken root in the child's heart and Sirius never again believed that purity was the sole basis on which a person's merit should be judged. When Alphard was disowned from the family, Sirius' attitude toward his parents' view of Pureblood entitlement plunged. Indeed, Walburga often felt that the boy regarded Alphard as more parent than he did his own. That could not be tolerated. Although she and Orion did everything they could to prevent the two from interacting, Walburga suspected that somehow, contact was made and their relationship continued. She felt her heart begin to harden again with the frustration she held for this boy, and the possibilities that once seemed so endless that now appeared to be out of reach.
A sound from inside the room drew her from her thoughts and Walburga's eyes snapped open. She moved toward the door once again and peered through the small window. Her eyebrows rose in surprise as she beheld Sirius sitting on the wooden bench, shoulders hunched and trembling. Yes, cry, my son, Walburga thought. Cry for what you've thrown away with both hands. And when you've stopped crying, you will perhaps realize that you have no choice but to become the wizard and heir that your father and I plan for you to be.
With a final glance inside the cold little room, Walburga tore herself away from the window, wrapped her cloak more closely around her and swiftly made her way to through the cavernous cellar and up the steps to the warmth and light of her home.
