CHAPTER 6: THE ENIGMATIC BLACK ANCESTRY
Martha's stern voice echoed through the dimly lit hallway, urging the boys to retire for the night. The air was heavy with anticipation, and the creaking of the old wooden stairs seemed to amplify the gravity of their situation.
As Arthur, David, and Mike ascended to the second landing, Martha's gaze bore into them, emphasizing the importance of their forthcoming tasks. With a pointed finger, she directed them to their assigned bedroom. The door swung shut behind them with an ominous snap, sealing them within the shadowy confines.
Inside the room, the atmosphere took on an eerie quality. The once ordinary bedroom now harbored an unsettling stillness, and even the wall seemed to pulse slowly, as if it held secrets within its depths. The image on the wall, once innocuous, now appeared to breathe in rhythmic cadence, adding to the room's mysterious aura.
While Arthur changed into his pajamas, David tossed Owl Treats onto the wardrobe, attempting to pacify the restless Athena and Goliath. The nocturnal creatures settled momentarily, their wings rustling in subdued agitation.
"Constant hunting would draw too much attention," Mike remarked, voicing the unspoken concern about the owls' nocturnal activities. Dumbledore's precautions against raising suspicions were clearly at the forefront of their minds.
David approached the door and secured it with a bolt, his actions driven by a past encounter with the enigmatic Kreacher. He warned his companions of the house elf's nocturnal wanderings, emphasizing the need for a secure sanctuary during the night.
As the room plunged into darkness, the moonlight spilled through the grimy window, casting ethereal shadows on the trio settled under the covers. David, Mike, and Arthur exchanged glances, the weight of the newly acquired information about the mysterious weapon heavy on their minds.
"The weapon... it's something worse than the Killing Curse," Mike mused, a trace of concern tinging his voice. The boys contemplated the unknown, grappling with the question of what could be more sinister than one of the darkest spells in existence.
The room fell silent as their thoughts intertwined, searching for a plausible answer. Arthur ventured a theory, linking the weapon to the secret plans he glimpsed – plans that might be under the watchful eye of Dumbledore and the Order.
"Where could it be hidden?" Arthur pondered aloud, envisioning a secure location safeguarded by the Order's vigilance.
Their conversation was abruptly hushed as David signaled them to listen. Footsteps approached, echoing up the stairs. A collective intake of breath ensued as they recognized Martha's measured stride. The floorboard creaked outside their door, prompting them to lie still, breaths held in silent accord.
A mournful hoot from Athena and Goliath resonated through the room just before Martha's footsteps ascended further, her vigilant ears attuned to any unauthorized conversation. The trio lay in the moonlit darkness, contemplating the weight of their newfound knowledge, unsure of what challenges the impending day would bring.
David's regretful admission lingered in the air as Martha's cautious footsteps retreated downstairs. Arthur, caught in the whirlwind of the night's events, wasn't certain if sleep would claim him immediately. The weight of the newfound knowledge and the mysteries surrounding the Black family seemed to keep his mind in a state of perpetual wakefulness.
As Martha descended, the weariness of the night began to pull Arthur into a hazy slumber. The distant creaking of the stairs and the murmur of voices blended into the tapestry of his dreams.
In the realm of the unconscious, time slipped away, and Arthur found himself abruptly roused by Kevin's urgent voice penetrating the room. The abrupt transition from dreams to reality left him disoriented.
"Mum wants you to wake up. Breakfast is in the kitchen, and she needs you in the drawing room," Kevin announced with an audible urgency. The morning had arrived with unexpected challenges, as the household faced an infestation of Doxys and a discovery of deceased Puffskeins beneath a sofa.
Swiftly, Arthur, David, and Mike donned their attire and hurried through a hurried breakfast. The anticipation of the upcoming tasks weighed heavily on them as they made their way to the drawing room.
The room was a curious blend of grandeur and neglect. High ceilings, olive-green walls adorned with dirty tapestries, and a carpet that exhaled clouds of dust created an atmosphere of faded splendor. The moss-green velvet curtains, alive with the illusion of invisible bees, added an eerie touch to the ambiance.
Martha, Chrys, Mary, and the twins awaited them, all adorned with cloths covering their noses and mouths. In their hands, they clutched bottles of black liquid with nozzles at the end.
"Grab a spray and cover your faces up," Martha directed the trio, pointing to additional bottles on a spindle-legged table. "It's Doxycide. I've never seen an infestation this bad before. That house elf has done a poor job for the last ten years."
Chrys inquired about Kreacher's age as a potential explanation for the neglect, but Sirius, entering the room with a bloodstained bag, dismissed the notion.
"You'd be surprised what Kreacher can manage when he wants to, Chrys," Sirius remarked, addressing the skepticism. "I've just been feeding Buckbeak. I keep him upstairs in my mother's bedroom. Anyway… this writing desk…"
Sirius dropped the bag into an armchair, drawing attention to the locked cabinet that Arthur had failed to notice until now. The subtle vibrations emanating from the cabinet hinted at concealed secrets, adding yet another layer of intrigue to the unfolding saga of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.
Sirius's words about the mysterious cabinet being potentially harboring a Boggart lingered in the air, leaving an unsettling undercurrent of tension in the room. Peering through the keyhole, he expressed caution, suggesting Mad Eye's expertise before unleashing any potential threat, given the unpredictable nature of his mother's possessions.
"Let's get Mad Eye here for a closer look before we make any moves," Sirius advised, his eyes still fixed on the keyhole. Martha, nodding in agreement, acknowledged the wisdom in seeking Mad Eye Moody's assessment.
Just as they deliberated on their next steps, a sudden clamor erupted from downstairs. A resounding clang of a bell echoed through the house, followed by a chorus of screams and wails that had been triggered by Tonks's clumsy encounter with the umbrella stand the night before.
Sirius, exasperated, voiced his frustration about the persistent ringing of the doorbell. He hastily exited the room, his footsteps echoing down the stairs as he sought to quell the commotion. The shrill, disdainful tones of his mother's tirade filtered up through the house, creating a dissonant soundtrack.
"Stains of dishonor, filthy half-breeds, blood traitors, children of filth…," the relentless litany of insults continued, a reminder of the toxic legacy within the Black family.
Arthur, finding the continuous screeching irritating, closed the door in an attempt to muffle the unpleasant sounds. The stifling atmosphere within the room contrasted sharply with the chaos unfolding downstairs.
Martha, undeterred by the ongoing family drama, focused on the task at hand. She bent over Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests, checking pages devoted to Doxys. Her expertise shone through as she provided vital information about the dangerous creatures they were about to face.
"Be cautious, Doxys bite, and their teeth are venomous. I have an antidote just in case," Martha warned, emphasizing the need for care. Stepping in front of the curtains, she positioned herself as the leader of their impromptu expedition.
"When I give the word, spray instantly. They'll be flying at us, but one spray should be enough to paralyze them. Once immobilized, throw them in the bucket," Martha instructed, her authoritative tone cutting through the ambient tension.
With everyone ready, Martha signaled the commencement of their mission. "Ready… squirt!"
Arthur obediently sprayed the Doxycide as instructed, and a fully grown Doxy emerged, its appearance both fascinating and menacing. Shiny beetle-like wings whirred, revealing tiny needle-sharp teeth. The fairy-like body, covered in thick black hair, clenched four tiny fists in a display of fury.
Arthur's precise spray hit the Doxy squarely in the face, freezing it in mid-air. The creature fell to the worn carpet with an unexpectedly loud thunk. Arthur promptly retrieved it and tossed it into the awaiting bucket, a sense of accomplishment mingling with the adrenaline of facing a magical pest head-on.
Martha's sharp inquiry interrupted Jack's questionable actions with the Doxy. Arthur observed as Jack slyly pocketed the creature after a hasty spray, winking in defiance when Martha's attention shifted. Kevin, under his breath, explained their mischievous motives for collecting Doxy venom.
"We're planning to experiment with Doxy venom for our Skiving Snackboxes," Kevin whispered to Arthur, revealing a clandestine project they had been working on over the summer.
"Sweets to make you ill?" Arthur muttered back inquisitively.
"Exactly," Kevin affirmed, keeping their conversation discreet. "Not seriously ill, just enough to get out of class whenever you want. Double-ended, color-coded chews. Eat the orange half of the Puking Pastilles, and you'll vomit. Swallow the purple half, and you're instantly restored to full health, free to enjoy an hour of freedom."
Jack, having maneuvered out of Martha's line of sight, chimed in with their advertising struggles. "We're working on making them seem enticing. But right now, we're testing them and struggling to stop puking long enough to swallow the purple end."
Concern etched Arthur's features. "You're actually testing this stuff out?"
Jack confirmed with a nonchalant nod. "In turns. Kevin did the Fainting Fancies, and we both tried Nosebleed Nougat. Mum thinks we've been dueling."
"So, you're still planning to run a joke shop?" Arthur asked, feigning interest in adjusting the nozzle on his spray.
"Absolutely," Jack replied. "Still need to secure premises, but we're running a mail-order service for now. Advertisements in the Daily Prophet last week, thanks to you, cub."
Arthur grinned, recalling how he convinced the twins to take the Triwizard Tournament prize money to fulfill their dream of opening a joke shop.
The process of de-Doxying the curtains consumed most of the morning, and it was well past midday when Martha finally removed her protective scarf, signaling a temporary reprieve. The limp and damp curtains, no longer buzzing with magical pests, bore the marks of the extensive spraying. The foot of the curtains harbored unconscious Doxys crammed into the bucket alongside a bowl of their black eggs, piquing the curiosity of Crookshanks and the twins who eyed them covetously.
Martha's directive to deal with the dusty cabinets after lunch momentarily diverted everyone's attention from the lingering mysteries within the room. The glass-fronted cabinets stood sentinel on either side of the mantelpiece, a repository of peculiar and unsettling artifacts. Rusty daggers, claws, a coiled snakeskin, tarnished silver boxes inscribed with unfamiliar languages, and an ornate crystal bottle, possibly filled with blood, formed a macabre collection.
The echoing doorbell disrupted the atmosphere once again, prompting all eyes to turn towards Martha. With a firm command to stay put, she hastily departed, clutching the bag of rats, leaving the room enveloped in anticipatory silence.
As the group peered out the window, they spotted the distinctive unkempt ginger head of Mundungus, surrounded by a precarious stack of cauldrons. Chrys hissed, questioning Mundungus's unexpected delivery. Arthur, recalling Mundungus's shady behavior during his supposed tailing, explained, "He was picking up dodgy cauldrons the night he was supposed to be tailing me."
The front door swung open, revealing Mundungus heaving the cauldrons inside. Jack and Kevin, standing vigilantly by the door, strained to catch fragments of conversation between Sirius, Kingsley, and the mysterious visitor. An attempt to use Extendable Ears was thwarted by an unexpected explosion of sound from downstairs – Martha's enraged voice thundering through the house.
The verbal onslaught directed at Mundungus reverberated through the room, making even Jack, who was accustomed to Martha's outbursts, express his discomfort. Kevin explained, "She's been meaning to have a go at Fungus ever since he snuck off when he was supposed to be following you, Arthur."
The cacophony of voices, including the portraits in the hall, blended into an overwhelming symphony of chaos. Kevin moved to shut the door, attempting to drown out the noise. Before he could seal the room, a house elf sidled in.
The house elf, clad only in a rag serving as a loincloth, appeared ancient and withered. Its skin hung loosely, several sizes too large. Bald but for a mane of white hair sprouting from its bat-like ears, the elf's bloodshot, watery grey eyes and snout-like nose added to its peculiar appearance.
The creature seemed oblivious to Arthur and the others, as if it couldn't perceive them. Shuffling hunchbacked and muttering under its breath in a deep, hoarse voice reminiscent of a bullfrog, the elf headed determinedly to the far end of the room. Its bizarre presence added yet another layer of intrigue to the enigmatic household of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.
Jack's firm and loud greeting to Kreacher disrupted the house elf's mutterings. The elf froze in his tracks, attempting an unconvincing display of surprise when confronted.
"Kreacher did not see young master," the house elf mumbled, turning around to bow to Jack. However, his muttered commentary about Jack being a "nasty little brat of a blood traitor" didn't escape Kevin's notice.
"We heard that, Kreacher!" Kevin spat, his disdain evident. The house elf, seemingly convinced they couldn't comprehend him, continued his malicious mutterings.
Jack, undeterred, confronted Kreacher with a cool authority. "And there's its twin, unnatural little beasts they are."
Arthur couldn't help but share the discomfort Jack's interaction with Kreacher elicited. The deep-seated prejudices and disdain embedded in the house elf's words left an unpleasant taste in the air.
Kreacher, undeterred by their objections, straightened up and continued his mutterings, unaware that the individuals he was disparaging could, in fact, hear every word. He commented on the presence of a "Mudblood," referring to Chrys, and expressed ignorance about Arthur's identity.
"I'm Arthur Pendergast, you piece of trash," Arthur interjected, coolly defending his friend Chrys against the derogatory term.
Kreacher, still oblivious to the reality that they could understand him, continued to share his opinions. Jack's sarcastic comment and Mike's direct question only garnered vague and evasive responses from the house elf.
"I am cleaning," Kreacher offered, a feeble attempt at deflecting their inquiries.
"A likely story," someone scoffed behind Arthur. Sirius had returned, glaring at the elf from the doorway. The noise from the hall had subsided, suggesting that Martha and Mundungus had moved their argument to the kitchen.
Upon Sirius's arrival, Kreacher flung himself into a ridiculously low bow, his snout-like nose flattening against the floor. The subservient gesture seemed to be an attempt to placate Sirius, though the glint in the house elf's eye hinted at an underlying cunning beneath the facade of deference.
"Stand up straight," Sirius impatiently commanded. "Now, what are you up to?"
Kreacher, still maintaining an air of subservience, reiterated his supposed purpose. "Kreacher is cleaning. Kreacher lives to serve the Noble House of Black—"
"And it's getting blacker every day; it's filthy," Sirius interjected, his impatience evident.
"Master always liked his little joke," Kreacher responded, bowing again before continuing in an undertone. "Master was a nasty, ungrateful swine who broke his mother's heart—"
"My mother didn't have a heart, Kreacher," Sirius snapped sharply. "She kept herself alive out of pure spite."
Kreacher bowed once more, muttering furiously as he spoke. "Whatever Master says. Master is not fit to wipe slime from his mother's boots. Oh, my poor mistress, what would she say if she saw Kreacher serving him? How she hated him, what a disappointment he was—"
"I asked you what you were up to," Sirius reiterated coldly, cutting through Kreacher's bitter mutterings. "Every time you show up pretending to be cleaning, you sneak something off to your room so we can't throw it out."
"Kreacher would never move anything from its proper place in Master's house," the elf insisted before muttering rapidly, "Mistress would never forgive Kreacher if the tapestry was thrown out. Seven centuries it's been in the family. Kreacher must save it. Kreacher will not let Master and the blood traitors and the brats destroy it—"
"I thought it might be that," Sirius said with disdain, casting a glance at the opposite wall. "She'll have put another Permanent Sticking Charm on the back of it, I don't doubt. But if I can get rid of it, I certainly will. Now go away, Kreacher."
Though it seemed as if Kreacher didn't dare disobey a direct order, he shuffled past Sirius, emanating the deepest loathing. Mutters of resentment filled the air as Kreacher exited the room, leaving the lingering tension of familial discord behind.
"Comes back from Azkaban ordering Kreacher around. Oh, my poor mistress, what would she say if she saw the house now? Scum living in it, her treasures thrown out. She swore he was no son of hers, and he's back. They say he's a murderer too—"
"Keep muttering, and I will be a murderer!" Sirius interjected irritably, slamming the door shut on the disgruntled house elf.
"Remind me why we can't just set him free and be rid of him," Chrys questioned, shaking her head in disgust.
"Because he knows too much about the Order," Sirius replied curtly. "And anyway, the shock would kill him. You suggest that he leaves this house; see how he takes it."
Sirius then strode across the room towards the tapestry that Kreacher had tried to protect, and the others followed suit.
The tapestry, despite its age and the apparent damage inflicted by Doxys, retained a certain majestic aura. A golden thread, though tarnished in places, still glinted brightly enough to reveal a sprawling family tree dating back to the Middle Ages, or so Arthur surmised.
Large words at the very top of the tapestry read:
THE NOBLE AND
MOST ANCIENT
HOUSE OF BLACK
'TOUJOURS PUR'
"You don't seem to be on here," Arthur remarked after scanning the bottom of the family tree.
"I used to be there," Sirius said, pointing at a small, round, charred hole in the tapestry, resembling a cigarette burn. "My sweet old mother blasted me off after I ran away from home. Kreacher's quite fond of muttering the story under his breath."
"When did you run away?" Arthur inquired, empathizing with Sirius's decision to escape a toxic environment.
"When I was about sixteen," Sirius responded. "I'd had enough."
"And where did you go?" Arthur pressed further. Sirius turned to him with a fond smile.
"Your dad's place," Sirius replied. "Your grandparents were really good about it; they sort of adopted me as a second son. Yeah, I camped out at your dad's during school holidays, and when I was seventeen, I got a place of my own. My Uncle Alphard had left me a decent bit of gold; he'd been wiped off here too, that's probably why. Anyway, after that, I looked after myself. I was always welcome at Mr. and Mrs. Pendergast's for Sunday lunch, though."
"You must've run because you'd had enough of your family," Arthur observed knowingly.
"Yes," Sirius admitted bitterly, running his fingers through his hair. "I hated the whole lot of them: my parents, with their pure-blood mania, convinced that being a Black made you practically royal… my idiot brother, soft enough to believe them… that's him."
Sirius pointed a finger at the very bottom of the family tree, at the name 'Regulus Arcturus Black.' There was also a date of death, fifteen years previous, followed by a date of birth.
"He was younger than me," Sirius shared, a tinge of bitterness in his voice, "and a much better son, as I was constantly reminded."
"And yet he died," Arthur pointed out.
"Yeah," Sirius replied with a sigh. "Stupid idiot… he joined the Death Eaters."
"Why am I not surprised?" Arthur mused, not shocked, considering the Black family's tendencies to align with Voldemort. "Were your parents Death Eaters as well?"
"No, no, but believe me, they thought Voldemort had the right idea. They were all for the purification of the wizarding race, getting rid of Muggle-Borns, and having pure-bloods in charge. They weren't alone, either; there were quite a few people, before Voldemort showed his true colors, who thought he had the right idea about things. They got cold feet when they saw what he was prepared to do to get power, though. But I bet my parents thought Regulus was a right little hero for joining up at first."
"Did he get killed by an Auror?" Arthur asked tentatively, hoping not to delve too deeply into personal matters.
"Oh, no," Sirius explained, shaking his head. "No, he was murdered by Voldemort. Or on Voldemort's orders, more likely. I doubt Regulus was ever important enough to be killed by Voldemort in person. From what I found out after he died, he got in so far, then panicked about what he was being asked to do and tried to back out. Well, you don't just hand in your resignation to Voldemort. It's a lifetime of service or death."
"Here's lunch," Martha's voice interrupted, breaking the somber mood.
Holding her wand high, Martha balanced a massive tray of sandwiches and cakes on its tip. She looked visibly angry and red in the face. The others eagerly moved toward her, anticipating some much-needed food, while Arthur stayed with Sirius, who bent closer to the tapestry.
"I haven't looked at this for years. There's Phineas Nigellus… my great-great-grandfather, see? Least popular Headmaster Hogwarts ever had… and Araminta Meliflua… cousin of my mother's… tried to force a Ministry Bill to make Muggle hunting legal… and dear Aunt Elladora… she started the family tradition of beheading house elves when they got too old to carry tea trays… of course, any time the family produced someone halfway decent they were disowned. I see Tonks isn't on here. Maybe that's why Kreacher won't take orders from her; he's supposed to do whatever anyone in the family asks him—"
"You and Tonks are actually related?" Arthur asked, surprised by this revelation.
"Oh, yeah, her mother Andromeda was my favorite cousin," Sirius explained, examining the tapestry carefully. "No, Andromeda's not on here either, look—"
He pointed to another small burn mark between the names of Bellatrix and Narcissa. Arthur recognized Narcissa as the name of Draco Malfoy's mother.
"Andromeda's sisters are still here because they made lovely, respectable pure-blood marriages, but Andromeda married a Muggle-Born, Ted Tonks, so—"
Sirius mimed blasting the tapestry with a wand and laughed sourly. Arthur, however, didn't find it amusing, mainly because he was busy looking at all the various names to the right of Andromeda's burn mark. There was a double line of gold embroidery that linked Narcissa Black with Lucius Malfoy, and then a single vertical gold line from their names led to the name Draco.
"I can't help but notice how you're related to the Malfoys," Arthur remarked with contempt to Sirius.
"The pure-blood families are all interrelated," Sirius explained. "If you're only going to let your sons and daughters marry pure-bloods, your choice is very limited; there are hardly any of us left."
Arthur's attention was now on the name to the left of Andromeda's burn: Bellatrix Black, which was connected by a double line to Rodolphus Lestrange.
"Lestrange…," Arthur said aloud. He recognized that name as well. He heard Sirius mention it in that cave outside of Hogsmeade months ago.
"They're in Azkaban," Sirius said shortly, making Arthur look at him. "Bellatrix and her husband Rodolphus came in with Barty Crouch Jr. Rodolphus's brother Rabastian was with them, too."
That made Arthur's insides constrict. He recollected when he looked into Dumbledore's Pensieve, a device that stores memories and thoughts. He saw Bellatrix: that tall dark woman with heavy-lidded eyes and proclaimed what had to be unwavering loyalty to Voldemort, declaring that he'll rise again and break her, her husband, and brother-in-law out of Azkaban.
"How can you stomach being cousins with her?" Arthur said.
"My deranged cousin… I have no idea," Sirius said, shaking his head. "I'm not proud to have a relative like her."
"I'm sorry if I've upset you, Sirius," Arthur apologized.
"It's alright, Arthur, you were just curious," Sirius assured him with a pat on his back. "The only reason I'm able to tolerate being back here is because I'm surrounded by my friends. And now you, regardless of whether you get expelled or not."
His words made Arthur feel better, both for himself and for his godfather.
"Of course, this is ideal for Headquarters," Sirius then said. "My father put every security measure known to wizardkind on it when he lived here. It's unplottable, so Muggles could never come and call, as if they'd ever wanted to, and now Dumbledore added his protection, you'd be hard-put to find a safer house anywhere. Dumbledore is Secret Keeper for the Order, you know, nobody can find Headquarters unless he tells them personally where it is; that note Moody showed you last night, that was Dumbledore." Sirius then gave a short, bark-like laugh. "If my parents could see the use their house was being put to now… well, my mother's portrait should give you some idea…."
Sirius scowled before he sighed.
"I wouldn't mind more if I could just get out occasionally and do something useful. I've asked Dumbledore whether I can escort you to your hearing, as Snuffles, obviously, so I can give you a bit of moral support, what d'you think?"
Arthur's heart sank as he recalled that he had to go to the hearing; he forgot about it among the whole thing of being surrounded by the people he knew and learning about what's going on. He stared over at the Merlons, Chrys, and Mike, who all tucked into their sandwiches, dreading the idea that they could end up going to Hogwarts without him.
"Don't worry," Sirius said, making Arthur look up and realize that Sirius was watching him. "I'm sure they'll clear you; there's definitely something in the International Statute of Secrecy about being allowed to use magic to save your own life."
"But if they do end up expelling me…" Arthur said quietly. "...could I come and live with you?"
This made Sirius form a sad smile. "We'll see."
"It's just… I do love the Dentleys… but I don't belong among Muggles.
"Hurry, you two, or there won't be any food left," Martha called.
Sirius heaved a great sigh before he cast a dark look at the tapestry, and both he and Arthur joined the others.
Arthur tried hard not to think about the hearing as they emptied the glass-fronted cabinets later that afternoon. Fortunately, it was a job that required a lot of concentration, since many of the objects seemed reluctant to leave their dusty shelves.
Sirius sustained a pretty bad bite from a silver snuff box; within seconds, his hand developed a rather unpleasant crusty covering like a tough brown glove.
"It's okay," he said, examining the hand with some interest before tapping it lightly with his wand, restoring the skin to normal. "Must be wartcap powder in there."
He threw the box aside into the sack they all deposited the debris from the cabinets into; Arthur watched Kevin wrapping his own hand carefully in a cloth moments later, sneaking the box into his already Doxy-filled pocket.
They ended up finding an unpleasant-looking silver instrument, resembling a many-legged pair of tweezers, which scuttled up Arthur's arm like a spider when he picked it up, attempting to puncture his skin. Sirius managed to seize it and smashed it with a heavy book called Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy.
There was a musical box that emitted a faintly sinister, tinkling tune when wounded, making everyone curiously weak and sleepy, until Mary slammed the lid shut.
Then they came across a heavy locket that had a bejeweled 'S'. None of them could open it, and Arthur found himself feeling anger when he held it, prompting him to pass it along to someone else.
They also found a number of ancient seals and, in a dusty box, an Order of Merlin, First Class, which was awarded to Sirius' grandfather for 'services to the Ministry'.
"It means he gave them a load of gold," Sirius said contemptuously, throwing the medal into the rubbish sack.
Several times Kreacher sidled into the room, attempting to smuggle things away under his loincloth, muttering horrible curses every time they caught him. When Sirius wrestled a large golden ring that bore the Black family crest from his grip, Kreacher burst into furious tears, leaving the room sobbing under his breath, calling Sirius names that Arthur had never heard before.
"It was my father's," Sirius said, throwing the ring into the sack. "Kreacher wasn't quite as devoted to him as to my mother, but I still caught him snogging a pair of my father's old trousers last week."
Martha kept them working very hard over the next several days. The drawing room took three whole days to decontaminate. Finally, the only things left that were undesirable were the tapestry of the Black family tree, which resisted any and all attempts to remove it from the wall, and the rattling old desk. Moody still hadn't dropped by Headquarters yet, so they couldn't be sure what was inside it.
After that, they moved to a dining room on the ground floor where they found spiders as large as saucers that lurked in the dresser (David left the room instantly, not even returning for an hour and a half). The china, which all bore the Black family crest and motto, was thrown unceremoniously into a sack by Sirius, and the same happened to a set of old photographs in tarnished silver frames, all the occupants squealing shrilly as the glass covering them smashed.
Snape may call their work 'cleaning,' but Arthur felt like they were waging war on the house itself, which put up a good fight, being aided and abetted by Kreacher. The house elf kept appearing wherever they all congregated, his muttering becoming more offensive as he attempted to remove anything he could from the rubbish sacks. Sirius even threatened him with clothes, though Kreacher fixed him with a watery stare, saying, "Master must do as Master wishes…" before he turned away, muttering loudly "...but Master will not turn Kreacher away, no, because Kreacher knows what they are up to, oh yes, he is plotting against the Dark Lord, yes, with these Mudbloods and traitors and scum…."
This made Sirius seize Kreacher by the back of his loincloth and threw him bodily out of the room.
The doorbell rang several times a day, being the cue for Sirius' mother to start shrieking again, and for Arthur and the others to attempt to eavesdrop on the visitor. Though they gleaned very little from the brief glimpses and snatches of conversation they were able to sneak before Martha recalled them to their various tasks.
Snape entered and left the house several times, though Arthur was glad that he didn't go face to face with him. Arthur even saw Professor McGonagall, his Transfiguration teacher, Head of house, and Mike's mother. She looked very odd in a Muggle dress and coat, though she seemed too busy to linger.
Sometimes, the visitors would stay to help. Tonks joined them for a memorable afternoon where they found a murderous old ghoul lurking in an upstairs toilet, and Lupin, who stayed in the house with Sirius but left for long periods to do work for the Order, helped them repair a grandfather clock that developed the unpleasant habit of shooting heavy bolts at passersby.
Mundungus 'redeemed' himself in Martha's eyes by rescuing David from an ancient set of purple robes that tried strangling him when he removed them from their wardrobe.
Despite still sleeping badly, still having the dreams of dark-tiled corridors and locked doors which made his scar prickle, Arthur had some semblance of fun for the first time in the summer. As long as he was busy, he was happy; whenever the action abated, though, or when he dropped his guard or lay exhausted in bed watching shadows move across the ceiling, the thought of the looming hearing at the Ministry returned to his thoughts.
Fear started filling up within him as he pondered what would happen if he were expelled. He was so scared of this that he didn't mention it to anyone, not even David, Chrys, or Mike, whom he'd see whispering together and casting anxious and concerned looks his way.
During dinner on Wednesday evening, Arthur's stomach dropped when Martha turned to him, saying quietly, "I've ironed out your best clothes for tomorrow morning. I'd recommend washing your hair tonight. You'll need to look proper and presentable."
David, Chrys, Mike, Mary, and the twins all stopped talking and looked at Arthur, who nodded and lost his appetite for his chop. The gravity of the situation settled in, and Arthur realized the significance of the upcoming hearing. The prospect of being expelled and the uncertain future weighed heavily on his mind as he tried to focus on finishing his meal.
"How will I get there?" Arthur asked Martha, holding back his concern.
"Ben will be taking you to work with him," she said gently. Ben looked over at Arthur across the table and smiled encouragingly.
"You can wait in my office until the hearing," he said.
Arthur then looked over to Sirius, and Martha answered the question he was going to ask.
"Dumbledore doesn't think it's a good idea for Sirius to go with you," she said grimly.
"When did he tell Sirius that?" Arthur asked as Sirius stabbed a potato with his fork moodily.
"He came last night, while you were in bed," Ben informed him.
Arthur now felt even worse than ever.
The idea that Dumbledore was in this house on the eve of Arthur's hearing and didn't ask to see him made him feel tossed aside and ignored, like he was some tool. It irked him to no end.
As the evening wore on, Arthur found himself pacing in the dimly lit hallway, unable to shake off the unease that had settled in his chest. He wondered about Dumbledore's intentions and why he hadn't deemed it necessary to discuss the hearing directly with him.
Sirius, noticing Arthur's restlessness, approached him with a concerned expression. "Don't let Dumbledore's decisions bother you too much," he said, his eyes reflecting a mixture of understanding and frustration. "He has his own way of doing things."
"But it's my hearing," Arthur muttered, unable to conceal his disappointment.
Sirius clapped a hand on Arthur's shoulder. "I'll make sure to keep an eye on things here. Just focus on what you need to do tomorrow. The rest will sort itself out."
Despite Sirius's attempt to offer comfort, Arthur couldn't shake the feeling of being caught in a web of uncertainty. The night before the hearing stretched on, and Arthur found himself glancing at the clock every few minutes, as if hoping time would somehow move faster and bring clarity to the situation.
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