Chapter 7: Black Manor was alive once again
Remus disappeared in his house for a short time, and came back with his friend's wand.
"Here. Happy?"
Sirius arched an eyebrow at his best friend's sarcastic tone as he entered the rundown house.
"What is it, Moony? Afraid that I came only for my wand?"
The werewolf shrugged, but the wizard wouldn't buy it. Remus had become a master at hiding his true feelings, and he could do the whole innocence thing as well as he could do the guilt thing. Many times, when they were at Hogwarts, James and Sirius had been trying to apologize for hours about something that had obviously made the werewolf angry... only to discover that he hadn't minded at all and had been taking the mickey out of them.
So Sirius sat on a chair in the kitchen and filliped a bread crumb at Remus' head.
The werewolf rolled his eyes and sat on the other side of the table, still wary of the two aurors standing next to the kitchen door.
"You're a kid, Sirius. I can't believe you're your family's lord. The House of Black will certainly break down under your guidance. And no, I don't think you like your wand better than you like me, but last time I had aurors in my house they were accusing me of working for a snake-faced mass murderer."
Sirius cast a glance at Dawlish and Julius Moody and frowned.
"When was that exactly?"
"Last week."
"Oh."
Before the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, the Ministry had been doing everything except acknowledging Voldemort's return, so it indeed could only have happened after that. Sirius sighed. Of course, the Ministry had thought it clever to just go around accusing werewolves.
"You see, I think we should begin a club, something like 'the Wrongly Accused Society'... Hell, we can even have Dumbledore join us, after the events from this spring!"
Remus snorted, slightly amused, but his eyes were still on the aurors. Moody Jr. didn't seem to be much of a threat, more awestruck than anything else, but he didn't like Dawlish's attitude. The wizard was staring at him, eyes squinted and tight lipped, as if he suspected the werewolf to be planning something evil.
"Anything else you want to tell me before going?"
Or is there something you don't want them to hear? Julius could very well hear the unspoken question, and for once, he didn't think it was suspicious. Usually, when someone had something to hide from aurors, it was something illegal. But these two men had suffered because of the Ministry too many times. It wasn't a surprise that they wouldn't trust just anyone working for them.
Black stayed silent a moment, staring at the ceiling, and Julius mused that he was certainly wondering what he could tell his friend and what he couldn't say in front of two aurors.
Eventually the wizard sighed and stood up.
"Don't worry about my trial, mate. I know what I am doing."
"Tonks says you won't take a lawyer?"
Julius thought that was strange. For a case such as the young lord's, the defense would need someone who knew what they were talking about. Sirius Black had been known to be reckless and disobedient as a young man, not exactly the best man to defend himself in a trial.
Black winced before answering the question.
"We've already talked about that. You know how they are, Remus. There are those who would defend even someone they think to be guilty, there are the ones who would never defend me because I'm a Black, there are those who would cut a deal, and there are the ones who would twist my words and my story to make me look like an innocent victim unable to hurt a fly. We know it's not the case, and if I have to protect someone from Death Eaters, we both know I can be rather indelicate. I don't want people saying afterward that my trial was made of lies. And there are arguments that I plan to use that may not... please a lawyer."
Remus observed his best friend as he was talking, and guessed that once again, Sirius was right. A lawyer could do for any innocent man... but not for a Black. And even if the wizard hadn't told him what arguments exactly he was thinking of using, the werewolf knew his friend well enough. No sane lawyer trying to make their client look as innocent as possible would use the kind of arguments that Sirius was likely to put forward.
"Do what you want, then. But you'd better be free at the end of this freaking trial."
A smirk morphed upon Sirius' lips, but he said nothing. Making a joke about escaping Azkaban a second time was certainly not the thing to do with two aurors in the room. Even less so when he was planning to do just that if his trial was to go wrong. Which was unlikely anyway.
Then the wizard remembered his ghostly cousin, and his optimism went down a notch. Explaining Bella wasn't going to be easy, and many would take the opportunity to say that yes, maybe he wasn't evil before, but he definitely was now, or else Bellatrix Lestrange's ghost wouldn't be obeying him.
Sirius looked around, saw the state of the house, saw the state of his friend, his ragged clothes, his sick complexion, and his heart ached. Remus was tired. And Bella was right.
"Listen, Moony..."
The werewolf grew suspicious the second his nickname was used with such a serious tone. Padfoot, Moony, Prongs – and Wormtail too, the treacherous, obnoxious little rat – were nicknames they had used as often as their first names when they had been happy. Padfoot, Moony, Prongs and Wormtail weren't names for a serious talk.
Unless they were going to talk about their animagus forms or of his werewolf form.
Remus noticed the sidelong glance Sirius cast at his two unwanted shadows, and this time he was certain there were some things better left unsaid.
"Sirius..."
"No, listen. I've been given a piece of advice not long ago, and I'm pretty certain you won't listen to me if I tell you who gave it to me, but I want you to listen."
The werewolf gave his friend a suspicious look, but decided he would listen.
Sirius took a deep breath, trying not to tone down. He didn't want Moody Jr or Dawlish to think he had something to hide. But what could he do? Bellatrix herself had given him this piece of advice. Not just anyone. Bellatrix Lestrange, bloody Death Eater and bloody insane. But Remus needed to hear this. He needed to change, because the werewolf was eating him up.
And because Bellatrix Black wasn't quite insane and was becoming more decent by the minute.
"You need to stop fighting it, Moony. You're a werewolf, no matter how much you try to deny it. You're a wizard, and a werewolf. You're not a monster. Just a werewolf. You're dangerous one night a month, and you can fight that. But you don't have to fight against yourself when you're not dangerous, well, not dangerous because you are a werewolf, though you can still be dangerous as a wizard."
Remus frowned.
"What are you trying to say exactly, Sirius?"
Dawlish and Julius were wondering exactly the same thing.
Dawlish, because he was an arse and that couldn't be changed. For him, "werewolf" was equal to "monster". According to him, Black was definitey trying to corrupt his friend to the dark side, if the monster wasn't already part of it. But Dawlish was an arse and an idiot, so he didn't matter.
Julius, because he simply didn't understand what the young lord was trying to say.
Sirius looked at each person in the room and promised himself that one day, he'd hex Dawlish blue with pink flowers if the auror continued to be so easily readable and completely insufferable.
Then his gaze went back, once again, to his best friend.
"Remus, you say everything is alright, and you don't complain to anyone. But I've known you since we were eleven. You hate yourself for something you can't do anything about. You're a werewolf, I'm a Black. We can't do the slightest thing about those two facts. So accept it, for once. Don't be depressed, for once. And it'll be easier to live with it."
He hesitated a second, and came closer to his friend. The last thing he wanted to say – no, the last thing he had to say, because he definitely didn't want to say it – wasn't something he wanted the aurors to hear. No matter how suspicious it would seem.
Remus cast a quick look at the two aurors, and listened to the soft whisper of his friend's voice.
"Greyback doesn't look sick."
The werewolf winced and took a step back. Sirius looked almost contrite that he had had to say that, so Remus decided he wouldn't respond that the monster was a monster, and he certainly didn't want to be compared to him.
Sirius bid him goodbye, and Remus looked at his friend as he apparated away with his two human shadows. Somewhere in his heart, he knew the wizard hadn't been totally wrong.
Dawlish was readying himself to be insufferable and complain about Black's behavior, knowing very well that opening his mouth while apparating was an efficient way to throw up his breakfast once arrived. But as soon as the unpleasant black-hole-feeling of side-along apparition dissipated, the scenery of Hogsmeade surprised him. What the hell was Black doing here?
Some bystanders gasped when they recognized the man who had just apparated in the middle of the village. The after effects of being Sirius Black, the ex-convict mused.
Julius blinked, took in their surroundings, and turned to face the young Black lord.
"Why are we here?"
Black didn't answer at first, apparently searching for something or someone. Once he spotted them, he walked to the Three Broomsticks and towards a shabby-looking wizard.
"Dung!"
The wizard jumped on his feet, looking around as if he had heard the sound of death itself coming for him, and only half-calmed down when he recognized Sirius. The Black lord thought that the man looked a bit guilty when he avoided his eyes, but dismissed it. After all, if Mundungus had stolen something, it would only be old news. Everyone knew the man to be a thief.
"Sirius, what can I d... do for you?"
No one missed the look on the short wizard's face as he glanced at the two aurors behind Sirius. No one said anything, because everyone knew Mundungus Fletcher to be having illicit dealings here and there, and that it wasn't the Auror Office's job to take care of him. He was, after all, only a small time criminal, and the aurors were a bit busy lately.
"I need to talk to Dumbledore. About my home. Could you get him for me?"
Mundungus' eyes did a very interesting show – wide open, squinted, shifty, scared. None of the members of the Order could say "12, Grimmauld Place", since it was under a Fidelius, but the thief was perfectly aware of what Sirius meant by "my home".
"Dumbledore. Right. I'll get him. Just wait."
And he tried to walk, no, run away as fast and as unsuspiciously as he could.
But Sirius extended his arm just in time, and his hand grabbed the back of the short man's collar. As Mundungus fell backwards, his clothes tinkled in a metallic sound.
Julius and Dawlish were already wand in hand, not quite sure of what was going on, but pretty certain that they couldn't let the wizard under their watch murder or harm anyone without reacting.
Julius was a bit surprised, to say the truth. He hadn't thought that Black would try something like that, if he was innocent. And up till this moment, the young lord had seemed every little bit innocent. So either the young auror had a real problem with his observation skills and Dawlish had been right all along, or there was something he was missing.
Black helped Mundungus Fletcher back onto his feet.
The short wizard looked scared as hell.
"Dung... Next time you take something out of my house, ask first. I don't really care for the family heirlooms, and you know that. But there are some things that'd better be destroyed than sold around to dubious individuals."
Mundungus was definitely looking everywhere but at Sirius.
"'No idea of what you're talking about."
The young lord arched an eyebrow as the other started mumbling something about innocence and false accusations, and before anyone could do anything, he cast a spell on the thief. Three metal boxes fell out of Fletcher's pants pockets, alongside the thief's pants.
Sirius bent over to pick the boxes, not paying any attention to the short wizard in underpants who was swearing out loud, or to the passersby who were watching with interest. The Blacks arms were incised on the silver boxes. He opened them, and closed them shut as soon as he saw what was inside. Then he turned to Mundungus, once again ignoring the aurors even if the sight of the gold clips in the second box had switched something in Dawlish's mind. Julius was a bit worried about that, actually. Lately, his senior auror had become more and more attracted to the financial side of the job... and of other things.
Sirius kneeled down and looked intently at the little man swearing on the ground. Immediately, Fletcher stopped his swearing and stayed still.
"You see, Dung, these boxes come from my home. I guess you were planning on selling them to the highest bidder, and I know I said that you could because I couldn't care less about my inheritance. The thing is, Dung, I more or less changed my mind. And those clips are cursed, so unless your buyers want to end up in St. Mungo's with half-munched-up fingers, which I doubt they want, you'd better ask before you take."
The thief nodded dumbly. Then he put his pants back on and ran to Hogwarts.
Sirius sighed.
It was true that he wanted nothing to do with the Dark-Arts-cursed / hexed / jinxed artifacts of the Blacks, but he had recently realised that maybe, some of them could be useful one of these days. After all, what was it to him if a Death Eater was strangled to death by one of his mother's nightgowns – however such a thing might happen?
By the way, why had his mother felt the need to curse her nightgowns?
Two minutes later, Fletcher was back, panting as if he had run a marathon. He said Dumbledore would meet Sirius at the Hog's Head Inn and ran away – though Sirius gave him back one of the boxes, harmless and ugly as its contents were.
Sirius sighed again, thinking about how much bad this encounter would do to his reputation, when he was to be tried only five days from now. But with Mundungus, one had to be stern, or the thief would never learn. And the last thing Sirius needed right now, was to explain why stolen goods marked with the Blacks armorial bearing had tried to murder someone.
So he simply walked to the Hog's Head, his three shadows – the actual one and the two aurors – following him dutifully. It was nearing noon.
When he pushed open the door of the inn, two elderly men were speaking quietly at the bar counter. No one could have missed the likeness in their features, but the younger one, whose hair was grayer while his brother's was whiter, looked less chearful than the older one.
Albus and Aberforth Dumbledore.
Sirius noticed that Dawlish shifted on his feet, obviously uncomfortable. The young lord smirked. It served the douchebag just right.
The older of the two brothers waved at the young wizard, while Aberforth was going back behind his counter, as grumpy-looking as ever. Sirius moved to join the Hogwarts' headmaster, and sat down on a bar stool. Julius and Dawlish stayed behind, at a respectful distance. Albus Dumbledore was more than able to take down anyone who might get an idea about Sirius Black, wasn't he? Or to take down Sirius Black himself, if as Dawlish thought, the young lord was the problem here.
"Sirius. I must say I'm happy to see you in good health after last month's events."
Feeling suddenly better, almost at home, as he heard the elderly man's voice, Sirius relaxed and asked Aberforth if he had anything worth eating. The owner of the inn nodded and soon came back with what looked like stuffed and / or roasted meat, but neither Sirius nor Albus would have bet on the exact animal.
"Truthfully I wasn't sure either that I'd make it out alive. That spell was..."
Sirius winced as he searched his pockets for money. He knew he had to have some somewhere in his coat, Remus had told him so, but what if he actually didn't? No, alright, just there. He searched for eight sickles and three knuts, and put them on the counter.
"... risky, if I say so myself. But I thought I still had to protect my godson, and well, even if I'm ready to die fighting, I'm not exactly eager to for all that."
He took a mouthfull of meat with caution, and was surprised that it wasn't as awful as he had thought it'd be. Maybe Aberforth had actually made some progress since his imprisonment.
Albus Dumbledore nodded, looking thoughtful, and let the young wizard eat half of his meal before he talked again.
"I heard you wanted to talk about your house?"
The elderly wizard had to be cautious, as he was the Secret Keeper, and unlike the others, the adress could slip throught his lips without the charm interfering.
"Right. I need to get back home to... arrange things for my trial, but I'm supposed to be under their constant watch..."
Sirius made a vague gesture behind him, not bothering to look at the two aurors. The old wizard, him, did look at them for a second, frowning, and Julius felt like he was back in school, while Dawlish was definitely trying to disappear, still thinking about his blatant defeat in spring.
"Hum. One question, though, Sirius: do you mind if we keep your house as our headquarters?"
"Not really. Kreacher won't be a problem anymore, I've got my personal ghost to talk to him. And if he stays a problem regardless... I can deal with him. After all, I can order him around."
Albus Dumbledore observed the young man sitting next to him.
Sirius Black had always been brilliant, but too carefree, not involved enough, while at Hogwarts. The only thing he had really put his heart into during his studies had been becoming an animagus for his friend Remus Lupin. That, the headmaster had never been aware of it until two years ago, and that was saying something.
Sirius Black hadn't been put in Slytherin for one reason only: he had no ambition whatsoever. For him, life could go on, if he was happy, if he had his friends with him, it'd be perfect. But to attain this happiness, the young wizard could do about anything. If he cared, he could be sly and cunning as a Slytherin, ready to do whatever he had to.
And as he had been way braver than anything else, the Sorting Hat had finally put him in Gryffindor. But the boy could have been in Slytherin, as he could have been in Hufflepuff. Only Ravenclaw was out of the question, though he was definitely clever. Sirius wasn't focused enough on his studies to be in Ravenclaw.
Or at least that was what the headmaster had understood about the boy. Because no matter what the some people might say, Albus Dumbledore wasn't one – and didn't need – to ask the Sorting Hat what it had to say about a student after their Sorting. Those kind of things were private, and no Hogwarts' headmaster had ever pryied thus on their students. Anyway, even if they had, the Sorting Hat would have told them to search for a new job.
"If that's the case, I'd advise you to go to Black Manor instead of your childhood home. That way we won't have to extend the Fidelius to any auror."
Sirius nodded slowly, until what the old man was proposing went through his brain. His head turned to the older wizard so quickly Julius could have sworn he had just heard a sickening crack.
"Wait a minute, Black Manor can only be entered with the permission of the Lord of the House and there's no way..."
The headmaster arched both eyebrows, waiting for the sentence to be finished. Sirius, confused, stared blankly in the air between him and his now empty plate. After a long silence, he looked up, face still blank, and talked.
"And there's no way I'll have the lord's permission, since I am the Lord of the House of Black. Right. I don't need the permission, since I am the one who gives it."
The fact that he wasn't only Lord Black but also had all the rights and responsabities coming with the title seemed to finally enter his mind.
Sirius Black was the Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Everything was his, personnal vaults excepted. 12, Grimmauld Place, which was the London house of the family, but also various other estates in and out of the country, and finaly, Black Manor, all this was his.
He coughed, but not from a physical need. Still, he felt as if his throat was too tight, as if the air couldn't pass through.
He was the Black lord.
Sirius gulped. Anything that could help him digest the information.
Or maybe not. It was still just this disturbing in his mind...
Argh, anyway!
He stood up, readying himsef to leave.
"Well, then, I guess it's a goodbye."
Albus Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. Many hoped that yes, it would only be a goodbye. To send Sirius Black back to Azkaban would be a bit sad, very unfair, and a great loss in the war against Voldemort.
"I believe you have much to see to before your trial. Be assured that I will attend."
Sirius frowned. Dumbledore had been reinstated as the Chief Wizard of the Wizenmagot, so obviously he was supposed to be here. Unless the old man had decided it'd look better for his ex-student if the executive figure was indeed impartial. That was, given the Ministry could manage to find a witch or a wizard who'd be willing to be impartial at Sirius Black's trial. Tough luck with that.
At least, the wizard thought, if Dumbledore backed down as Chief Wizard, and asked for someone else, if the "someone else" was proved to be prejudiced against the defendant, if the defendant walked out free nonetheless... Sirius would be twice proved innocent, or as good as.
So Sirius nodded thoughtfully and left the Hog's Head Inn.
Julius and Dawlish followed him in silence. Again. Sirius wasn't sure he liked being watched like that. No, actually, he was quite sure he didn't like it at all. But there was improvement. Before, they hadn't been silent, and now, they were. Not that he minded when it was Julius talking. But he had come to the conclusion that he absolutely loathed Dawlish. And not only because the auror most likely thought him to be guilty.
He stopped in the middle of the road and turned to the aurors to explain, once again, where he was going to apparate them. He certaintly didn't want Dawlish to find anything to complain about.
"'Not sure you heard, but we're headed to Black Manor. If I was you, I'd wait for me to invit you in. Our family wards can be rather... aggressive."
A loud crack was heard, and there was no one on the road anymore.
Julius looked around.
They were in the middle of nowhere, no town, no house could be seen, only a large stone road coming from the East and ending at sinister looking gates with the Black family crest on it. A long and high wall was obstructing the view on both side of the gates. The whole place looked grim and deserted and not welcoming at all. The younger of the aurors shivered when he heard something that sounded a lot like the cry of a raven, or maybe a crow.
As ominous as a purebloods' place could get, surely.
The young auror glanced at the Black lord, who didn't seem eager to be here either.
"Why the Hell did I agree to come back here, remind me? Oh, yes, because I need a place to stay. Now, don't freak out, Sirius, the London house isn't much better, I guess. Here, at least, there aren't any beheaded house-elves on the walls, are there?"
Black himself didn't seem sure of what they were to come by in the manor, and that couldn't bode well. Julius shuddered; the Blacks weren't a happy bunch, that was for sure.
Sirius took a deep breath, and walked to the gates. Once closer, one could see the two parts of the gates weren't actually separate, and more like melted together.
There was dust on the handles, and he had no key. But of course, since there was no key, it was to be expected. Same as Grimmauld Place, Black Manor had been left to itself since Arcturus Black's death. Sure, the place must have had its own house-elf, and as Sirius hadn't been dead – his magic hadn't been, at the very least – the magical contract linking the elves, Kreacher in London, Sterhn at the Manor, was still on. Two house-elves, for only one family, it was more than what many could brag for. The Blacks' wealth, once again. So, as Kreacher, Sterhn must have been keeping the place in order... But like Kreacher, maybe the elf had become mental at some point.
In his memories, Sterhn had always been better with him than Kreacher, and that surely had to do with the fact that Sirius' grandfather had had some affection for his grandson. Sure, not much, after all, he had never stepped in to defend the child, but that was a lot more than the affection Walburga had had for his son. Yes, Arcturus and Orion Black had cared for Sirius Black. Not much, but more than Walburga Black. Or maybe they had just been less crazy than she was.
Anyway, if the house-elf of Black Manor had never been much fun – and why would he be when he was named Sterhn? – he had been alright. He'd certainly be beyond happy to see his master back, and hopefully would be less of a hassle to deal with than Kreacher.
Sirius observed the black gates for a long time, still hesitating to unseal the property. He could yet walk away, forget everything, his resolutions to take the family back in hand, everything...
Oh, well, he'd better get done with it.
The wizard let his fingers run on the Black armorial bearing, his fingerstips going over the ravens and the sword, then onto the motto. Soon he felt a slight pain and the crest turned red with his blood. He withdrew his hand and looked at his fingers, sliced at the tips. Then his eyes fell on the forms of the armorial bearing on the gates. His blood was slowly taking over the family motto. After a short while, the fused metal closing the gates together melted down and disappeared.
The gates to Black Manor were open, now that the Black lord had come back to the estate.
Sirius pushed the gates open. The dust which had covered the gates and the high wall that made the place look so grim and, well, dusty, suddenly rose in the air, before vanishing in a flash of life.
Black Manor was alive once again.
The young lord walked in and turned to the two aurors behind him. Both looked rather uncomfortable. After all, he could shut them out if he wanted. For a second he played with the idea, then sighed as once again, doing what he wanted wasn't the best way for him to earn the trust of the Ministry officials.
"aurors Moody and Dawlish, would you come in?"
The older of the two wizards winced at his name being put second, but Sirius ignored him. If Dawlish wanted to be respected, the least he could do was to be respectful too. And Sirius wasn't even talking about etiquette, simply about basic human behavior. "Good morning", "How do you do?" and all the crap. Well, no, he had no reason nor desire to confabulate with Dawlish. But if the man could refrain from looking at him with all the disgust on Earth, it would certainly help his case.
Julius and his colleague walked into the Black domain, and were relieved not to be torn to pieces. As Sirius had said previously, the Blacks were famous for their wards – amongst other things.
Julius followed in silence and in awe as the young lord walked down the stone driveway to the immense and rather distressing shadow of what must have been the manor, several hundreds of yards away.
Yes, the land had been half-abandonned since 1991, and the lawn certainly needed to be taken care of, but still. Old and majestuous trees bordered the driveway, and osiria and black baccara rose trees greeted the visitors, though right now only the osiria ones were blooming. There was a grand, large, huge oval-shaped pond between the three wizards and the manor, but they didn't need to walk around it, as the aurors understood, bewildered when Black stepped on an almost invisible bridge made of some magical spider's silk.
At some point, Julius could have sworn he had seen something move in the corner of his eye, and he tried to reassure himself thinking of the peacocks in Malfoy Manor. Yeah, surely, it had to be that, the Blacks surely had some sorts of harmless animals living on their grounds. What was it again, a rumor about them having the rumored extinct hellhounds as hound dogs?
And then there was the manor.
Black Manor wasn't as grand as Malfoy Manor, but it was a whole different deal and a lot more overwhelming. Julius had been to Malfoy Manor once, when he had had to conduct a search on the behalf of the Ministry. There, the owners hadn't bothered to hide their wealth, they had literally put it on display almost everywhere the eyes could see. But the Blacks hadn't acted as such.
Black Manor was obviously older, and less showy. But the material were all priceless, elegant and showed perfectly that one doesn't need to brag about what he has for it to be obvious that he is definitely higher on the social ladder than his visitors. If the place was certainly less spacious than Malfoy Manor, it was still immense enough to take in the whole House of Black at its most numerous, and as many guests. Black stone, black marble, black wood. And here and there, a spark of light, some silver point in the darkness of the place.
They arrived in front of a large double doors made of dark wood. Above it, the Black family arms were set in stone, and the motto "Toujours Pur" was written on it in silver letters.
Sirius sniggered. Toujours Pur.
It could as well have been "Inbreeding is the best way to have deranged children". A wonder Regulus and himself hadn't been stranger than that. But he guessed that his mother's and Bella's madness had something to do with the family motto. Oops, he meant with the inbreeding.
Once inside, Sirius called for Sterhn, hoping the house-elf was still around. He surely wasn't going to be the one to clean the manor. Even less so when the manor was thrice the size of Grimmauld Place, and he still hadn't finished cleaning the London house.
A loud crack was heard. Julius jumped in surprise, having still not gotten over the fact that Black Manor could be called a lot of things, and many of them had to do with the adjectives dark, gloomy, black, sinister, obscure, stygian, and well, the fact that none of the lights were on wasn't helping at all. Dawlish looked about to black out, focused on not letting his anxiety show to the point that there was nothing more obvious. Sirius relaxed as soon as he met the eyes of the elf.
"Master Sirius Black is finally home. Master Arcturus Black would be pleased to know that his grandson has finally accepted the Lordship that was his from birthright. He would be delighted to know that the Master has finally walked out of Azkaban, the most dreadful prison on earth. But Master Arcturus is dead, and Sterhn has been left to take care of Black Manor. What can Sterhn do for the Master?"
Sirius gave the elf an almost genuine smile. Sterhn had always been rambling a lot about the pride of the House of Black, but contrary to Kreacher, he had included Sirius in this pride, and had kept the blood purity theme to the bare minimum.
"Have you taken good care of the manor, Sterhn?"
The elf looked offended at the inquiry.
"Of course, Master! Not a speck of dust came inside the Manor."
"Have you taken good care of yourself, Sterhn?"
"Sterhn did so that he'd be able to serve the Master to the best of his capacities."
That was the best answer Sirius could expect from the house-elfe, dedicated to the House of Black and to its lord over anyone else. So he went on asking if the standard procedures had been put into motion at the previous lord's death, and yes, Sterhn answered that of course, the floo connection had been shut down, the wards raised to their fullest, and the Lord's room kept tidy for his return.
Sirius smiled at the thought that he'd certainly need to do something about the color choices if he was to live here, and dismissed the elf after asking him to let out the enchanted light orbs in the whole manor and to start a fire in the fireplace of the dining room, his study and his bedroom.
Then he turned to the aurors.
"Check the tracking spell, then do whatever you wish to do. If possible, I'd like not to have you in the way. But be careful. My grandfather wasn't half as mad as my mother, but I can't say there isn't some nasty stuff here and there in the manor. I don't believe there is anything illegal but you never know with my family, and there are definitely borderline dark and unauthorized objects around the house, and don't get me started on the jinxed, hexed, cursed things you might come by. If anything tries to murder you... Well, defend yourself to your fullest and start screaming."
On that reassuring note, the young lord left the two dumbfounded aurors, pretty certain that, despite what he had just said, there were dark, illegal, unauthorized, highly dangerous and murderous artifacts in the manor. Only, they weren't in plain sight. Even if the members of the House of Black were all slightly insane, they weren't fools.
His feet led Sirius to the dining room, grand, immense, overwhelming, dark but surprisingly not gloomy now that the light orbs were illuminating the place, floating high in the middle of the room. From outside, though, the wizard was certain that it looked like some ghosts were roaming around behind the grand gothic-style windows. He changed the light color to a soft orange and walked to the furthest wall in the room.
There, he stood without doing anything for a minute or so, his mind entirely focused on the Black family tree that had been engraved in the wall and charmed to react to any change in the London tapestry, and if needed, to overrule it.
The names weren't burned off on the wall, obviously, but srtikethrough. There were so many of them, so many decent Blacks who had been repudiated because they were decent, that it was ridiculous. Of course, the House of Black wasn't so bad. But as soon as someone could prove the public wrong, the other family members made it clear that yes, those ones were decent, and so detestable, and so not part of the family anymore.
Sirius was surprised to see that his own name hadn't been ruled out like Alphard's and Andromeda's, but he guessed his grandfather had overruled his mother's decision, though he hadn't overruled it enough to make the tapestry mend itself. A decision of reason, he mused. His mother would have been insufferable if the previous lord had so oppenly supported his grandson after she had disowned him.
But if she had disowned him as her child, if his father had let her do so, only the lord could decide to cast a family member out. Sure, as far as Walburga had been concerned, Sirius wasn't her son anymore. But he was a Black nonetheless. He had been the next heir after his father by blood, and Arcturus Black had never denied him this right.
Actually, Sirius suspected his grandfather to have been supportive of most of his ways. The old man wasn't a fool, and he wasn't blind and half-crazed like Walburga. He had seen the damage Voldemort was doing in the wizarding world, worst, in the pureblood society. Being a blood traitor, compared to the crimes of the Dark Lord towards those he claimed to fight for, was a joke.
Better Sirius Black as the next Black lord than a Death Eater.
The young lord took out his wand and put his still bloodied hand against the wall. The tip of his wand placed at the back of his hand, he closed his eyes for a while. When he opened them again, a flow of black and white magic pulsed through his wand into his hand, in his blood, in the dried blood that covered his fingertips, to the wall, to the family tree. The black stone of the wall seemed darker than ever, the silver and gold lines between the names shone brightly, and Sirius was the official Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.
He withdrew his wand and hand, finally cleaned the blood on the latest, and stared at the silver ring which had just appeared on the ring finger of his righ hand. It had the Black armorial bearing on it.
Sirius looked back at the family tree and waved his wand. It was time to change the House of Black back to what it was meant to be.
A family.
Every single strikethrough name was now unscathed.
Every single one of them. The blood traitors, the one who had married a blood traitor, the muggle lovers, the squibs. Every person who had borne the name of Black and shared their blood had the right to be here. No matter what they had done.
That, of course, also included the worst of them, those who had never been cast out of the family, but who should have been. The ones who had killed, tortured, and caused misfortune during their whole lives. Whether Sirius liked it or not, they were his family. Even the ones whose wands had been beside his in the Department of Mysteries.
He then looked for the disowned branches of the family. Maybe some of them had had children who still bore the name of Black. But no, none of the marriages had lasted long enough in the male lines for their descendants to be part of the House of Black nowadays.
Sirius did one last thing before leaving the dining room. Looking at his brother's name, a whisper escaped his mouth.
"Regulus... You poor fool. Why didn't you listen to me?"
All over Gret-Britain, the surviving Blacks were surprised when they felt a short rush of magic. Narcissa's silver ring glowed for a second. Andromeda and her husband watched in anxiety as two rings formed on their joined hands. Tonks had jumped in surprise and frightened the whole Auror Office when she had felt the silver touch of a ring.
And in a bed in a small but cozy house, a man woke up suddenly holding onto his silver ring. His eyes were filled with memories for the first time in years, and a tear rolled down his face.
"Sirius."