A family reunion of some sort, because I always wanted Sirius to settle things with his family, and (un)fortunately most of them are dead.
Chapter 10: Bloody Blacks
This was the second morning Sirius Black woke up in the master bedroom of Black Manor. Not that he'd complain about it. Really, he liked the place, though it felt a bit strange to sleep in his grandfather's room. A bit less green, a bit more gold, and the place would be perfect. But that would have to wait, because he had a trial to attend – figure, his trial to attend – two days from this fine sunday. So, obviously, changing the color of the ceiling would have to wait.
Even more so considering that Sirius didn't want to hire a lawyer to defend him.
The wizard had his reasons for that, of course.
The first one being, that he wasn't about to trust just anybody because they had a wizarding law degree, not after what mistrust had done to him over the years. They wouldn't trust him? He wouldn't trust them.
There was also the fact that when the date for his trial had been decided, it had been only five days prior to said date. Sirius doubted any sane lawyer would have taken a case such as his to defend with only five days to sort things out.
Dismissing the hundreds of other reasons, the black-haired man decided he wouldn't open his eyes a second time right now, because when he had seconds before, the sight which had met his eyes had been rather disturbing, and he didn't want to be disturbed for the time being.
Obviously, Sirius couldn't know beforehand how the trial would go, but he was fairly certain that it would go his way, though not without some struggle at first.
Oh, another reason why any sane lawyer would never have accepted his case, was certainly that the young lord of the House of Black had had... ideas and arguments no sane lawyer would present to a court even if they'd bribed everyone earlier.
Everyone said that the insane ones in the Black Family had been Walburga and Bellatrix Black. Well, for some time, they had said the same of him, but that was only because they had thought him to be guilty. Now, he had been taken off the insane-Blacks-list, even by those who still believed him guilty, since he had shown everyone that he wasn't crazy. Little did they know.
Maybe he wasn't as mad as Bella or his mother. Surely he wasn't mad like Bella and his mother. But saying that Sirius Orion Black was sane was a bit ludicrous. There were only two things that didn't make him look like a nutter: his cleverness, and his being aware that he wasn't thinking exactly like the other people out there. After all, being insane wasn't a problem, as long as you knew it. Everyone said that Dumbledore himself was a bit of a madman, but that he still knew what he was doing, and that was all that mattered. Anyway, normal people were boring, and entirely sane people didn't exist. There were only different levels of madness.
So, Sirius was a bit insane, and he knew it.
Because, really, if wednesday he did what he intended to do – and there was no doubt in his mind that he'd do it – he couldn't be anything else than mad.
Walburga Black had never acknowledged her insanity, and it had only become worst because of that. Bellatrix Black had been lured to the edges of her sanity by Voldepants' teaching and ideals, and when she had become Bellatrix Lestrange, the balance between sanity and insanity in her had broken. Sirius Black walked on the border of those two realms.
Speaking of Bella...
The wizard opened a wary silver eye, glancing at the edge of his bed.
"You're freaking me out, you know?"
A ghostly and way-too-suspicious smile invaded the face of a woman who looked a lot like him, even if her jaw was a bit stronger than his, her hair was curly, and her eyelids were heavy. Oh, and there was also the fact that she was translucent and very grey.
"Aw, cousin, but this room is the only one I can roam about freely, since you took in two aurors and we agreed it wouldn't go well if they saw me..."
"Still, that doesn't explain why you're watching me sleeping as if I was something very cute and small and adorable."
The ghost of the Black witch gave him a genial smile which was completely out of character.
"But, Sirius, you and Regulus were my baby cousins. Can't I appreciate the fact that we're once again on speaking terms? Last time was in the early seventies, if I recall..."
Sirius gave in to his new habit of throwing pillows through the ghost in annoyance.
"Not my fault you decided that me being in Gryffindor meant that I was a disgrace for the family..."
His mumbling was lost as he got up and began to dress, feeling awkward with Bella smirking in the background.
"And I'm not there for your entertainment, Bella!"
The ghost hovered away chuckling, surely going for a walk – sorry, a flight – around the property.
Sirius was about to go downstairs, but a black owl came tapping at the bay windows.
Even if they weren't the only wizards in Great Britain using black owls, it was most likely that the letter at the owl's leg came from a family member. Seeing as Andromeda and Narcissa were his closest living relatives, it certainly came from one of the two women. Sure, he had one or two distant cousins – more like, twenty or thirty of them – actually, but none of them bore the name of Black nor were members of the House of Black. They had no reason to contact him.
Not yet, anyway. After his acquittal, they would have more than one reason to do so, since most of them were from other Noble and Ancient Houses.
Andromeda was more likely to be the sender, because even if Narcissa was obviously in dire straits due to Lucius' exposure, they still were on opposite sides of the war. Getting his protection would mean negating her support of the Dark Bastard, and for that, she'd still need to get Sirius to soften to her situation. After all, she hadn't been that unhappy with his disownment.
Sirius' feeling proved to be accurate, as his eyes looked first for the signature at the end of the letter.
Dear Sirius,
We haven't been able to see each other since it came to my knowing that you were innocent of everything, and I deeply regret that. Nymphadora told me you had trouble adjusting back to a life of freedom, but I guess your confinement in an abandoned Grimmauld Place had something to do with that. I hope once you'll be cleared, you'll accept to meet me in person, but I won't take more of your time, seeing as your trial is coming so soon.
Yours, Andromeda Tonks.
The Black lord smiled at the certainty she had of his acquittal. Andromeda, clever as she was, knew not only of his innocence, but also of his communication skills. If he wanted to, Sirius could lead a conversation as well as any Slytherin. Usually, he didn't care to, but with his freedom on the line...
For a moment he wondered how she had taken the news of his accusation, fifteen years prior. But he could guess that like many of his former friends, Andromeda had ended up convincing herself that he had been guilty. Remus had, everyone had.
The evidence had simply been too much, and too many people had turned traitors during the war. Trust could not be given away easily, having been wronged too many times. Remus as a werewolf, Andromeda as a Black, would have been in the crossfire if they had tried to defend him based only on their trust of his personality. And even their trust had been tested, they had told him themselves, and he couldn't deny that he hadn't always been the picture of innocence.
Andromeda had known him since he'd been a child, she had seen him grow up and gain the skills of the Blacks in every field. Even if he didn't agree with the family's views, he had the capacities that came with being a Black. Talking. Lying. Doing whatever was needed. And finally, the legendary ease in the use of the Dark Arts.
Remus had seen him in his worst moments at Hogwarts, and that meant something. Their fifth year and the Whomping Willow incident had had rather unpleasant consequences... And anyway, everybody had been suspicious of everyone in the end of the war. After all, Sirius had suspected Remus, so it was only fair game that the opposite had been true too. James betraying himself to Voldemort had been obviously ludicrous, and Peter being a traitor had simply not been something they had thought of, because Peter was afraid of his own shadow and would have probably wet himself if he'd ever met the Dark Lord. So it had had to be either Remus or Sirius, and each had suspected the other. Because Voldemort actually offered a better life for the werewolves – though it had certainly been a lie – because Remus had been spending time infiltrating Greyback's werewolves – even if for the Order – because when one talk to someone else long enough, a brainwashing can happen. Because most of Sirius' family was on the other side, and despite everything, Sirius loved them, even if he would have been able to knowingly kill them in battle, because Sirius' baby brother had been over there, because Sirius was incredible at occlumency, because Sirius could use any Unforgivable without even trying.
So no, Sirius wasn't resentful. Not for that. Not to those people who had known him, and had seen the worst he could become.
For a time, he had hated those who hadn't known him, and still had said him to be a monster, without knowing anything about him. Those who should have uncovered the truth, and freed him because he was innocent. Those who had refused to listen to him when they had had the possibility to do so, and instead had thought it better to condemn him to be Kissed.
Everyone, according to what he had heard, everyone he had known had felt bad about what had happened to him. Be it because they couldn't believe him to be a Death Eater, be it because they couldn't believe they had trusted him, they hadn't felt well or happy seeing him sent off to Azkaban. The aurors and trainees at the office had been dumbfounded, some devastated, others betrayed, but none of them had felt victorious over his fall as they had over any other Death Eater's. His friends – well, the few of them who were left – Remus, Alice and Frank, had simply not understood, and had stood there, when they had heard the news, wondering when the nightmare would come to an end. The members of the Order of the Phoenix had generally been destroyed by the news, because they had finally found a Black who followed the path of equality and justice, only to find out that he had betrayed them worse than they could have ever guessed – because they had gotten past the surname only to put their trust in someone not worthy of it.
No one had been happy, no one had thought his punishment to be deserved and let it at that. Certainly, some had been furious, some had been crying, some hadn't understood, some had been the three at the same time, they had loathed him, they had wished him the worst fate Azkaban could deliver. But never had they acted as if he hadn't been one of them at some point, in some way.
As for justice, even if Crouch had allowed Death Eaters being sent straight to Azkaban during the war, every single one of the accused had been given a trial in the months following Voldemort's fall. Innocents and culprits alike had been released, because there was not enough evidence, in the case of the innocents, because they had bribed someone or because the proof weren't strong enough, for the Death Eaters, because they had solf others off, like Karkaroff had done.
But one person, one innocent that none doubted to be guilty, had never had a trial, since his guilt had been so obvious. His name had been Sirius Orion Black, and Sirius would never forget he hadn't even been given the rights scums like Macnair or Goyle had gotten.
And then there was Snape.
Sirius and Snape had never liked each other, but for the five first years at Hogwarts, Snape had merely detested him while loathing James. After that time when Sirius had almost murdered the Slytherin – though that obviously hadn't been quite his intention – the only Gryffindor ever in the House of Black had taken James' place in Snape's hatred.
That, Sirius could understand. After all, he had almost fed Snape to a werewolf. So the Gryffindor hadn't liked the Slytherin better, but he had never held that particular reason of hate against Snape. Gryffindor, Black, rich, pureblood, handsome, brilliant in everything without actually working much, perfect in so many ways, even for the Slytherins, except that he was in the instinctively-hated House and didn't share the blood purity opinion that was found in more than half of the snakes – Sirius was the natural enemy of someone like Snape. The worst being, that he could outdo any Slytherin in a Dark Arts duel if it came to that. He was the anomaly, the snake in the lions' house, the lion in a family of snakes, the one who wasn't where he belonged according to some, and yet who wouldn't fit where he should have been, because while believing in blood purity wasn't needed to be Sorted in Slytherin, it was almost mandatory to get along with the Slytherins he knew.
So Sirius knew that Snape hated him from the bottom of his heart, and himself wasn't far behind to return the favor. If he'd have liked it better if Snape had listened to him, two years ago, he understood why the man hadn't. After all, Sirius himself could be just as cruel in anger.
No, the problem was Fudge, who had never listened, not even once, to his side of the story, and had wanted him Kissed. Not listening and letting him rot in Azkaban, Sirius could understand. But for something as serious as a dementor's Kiss?
Sirius tried to think about something else. He didn't exactly fear dementors, not after having spent twelve years with them, but he didn't like them either – and he'd rather not see them again. No one did, after all. That he had almost been Kissed wasn't something he wanted to think about.
The wizard wrote a short but warm reply to his cousin, then he started another letter for Remus, because he couldn't get Eleanor Rowle out of his head and that bothered him a lot. He was about to write a letter to Snape about truth serums, but inwardly cringed each time he tried to come up with some greeting formula that wasn't completely unpleasant. He might not hate the potion master as much as he had hated him as a student, but being polite to the man was a bit much even now.
So Sirius decided to raid the Black library in search of all truth serums approved for trials, just to see if one could be what he was looking for, before going to Snivellus and see if he could get some.
Of course, he couldn't do anything like that and let the aurors know about it, since Snape was a suspected Death Eater as far as the Ministry knew – and they were right, weren't they? – and certainly not his ally as far as the other hooded bastards were concerned. If the word got out that Sirius Black had been meeting Severus Snape before his trial... It'd be a problem for both of them, and Snape's position as a spy was too important to be lost.
He was so lucky, having a fireplace in his study, a study in which he had allowed no one else than himself to come.
Well, no one else except Bella, because strangely, the ghost seemed to be magically considered as a part of him, and that freaked him out just a little, but shush, no one should know about that.
Sirius left the library a bit frustrated. Research had always been Moony's thing, not his, but well, he wasn't as reluctant to do it as James had been, so it was better than nothing. Actually, he could spend hours reading if he had a good reason to do so.
Clearly, studying had never been one of those reasons.
He had automatically put aside all the Dark-Arts-related books, because even if he was sure he could find some potent truth potions in there, those would never be accepted to be taken in court, seeing as there was always at least one forbidden ingredient in them, and their effects were not known enough to be trusted. Apart from those illegal serums, he had found one or two other possibilities, but none of them were strong enough to hold any valor if used in court. No one ignored his occlumency skills – after all he had made a show of them in his fifth year – and if even veritaserum could be partially countered with occlumency, no one would trust his words not to be twisted so that he'd technically say the truth, only, not the whole truth. And anyway, he was against veritaserum. The potion was the strongest truth serum known, but it not only forced someone to speak the truth, it also forced them to answer anything asked. There were things the Black lord could not reveal – not about himself, but about the Order, about Harry...
In the end, Sirius had found something that could do, only, he had to go to the Ministry and see if they'd accept the use of the potion, always under the caution that no potion can be unerring, of course. The thing with sinemendacium was that brewing it could be done very quickly, a good thing for him, but it only lasted for one day, and one of the ingredients was just that difficult to find.
A good thing, really, that the Blacks had the most uncommon animals on their property.
Once Gulch and Flume had left, leaving behind a John Dawlish particularly angry to be back in Black Manor and a Julius Moody really eager to know what had exactly happened to Savage the day before, the Black lord successfully disappeared from sight to ensure the security and restricted access to the manor without any spy watching.
The illusory wall under the large stairs leading to the first floor did the job well enough, and Sirius could see the surprised look on the aurors' faces when they realized he was nowhere to be seen. The Black lord smirked a bit, and turned to face the very real wall separating the entrance hall and the sitting room. He delineated an invisible rune on the cold stone, and looked at the floor next to him.
There was the sole entrance to the hidden basement of Black Manor. Even from the wine cellar, the place couldn't be entered, though the two rooms were adjacent.
The polished stones of the floor were sliding into each other, revealing a spiral staircase with a silver banister. Sirius cast a lumos and began to go down.
He had rarely been down there. Only the lord had access, usually, but the most important and most secret family reunions were held in the Black Manor basement, where no one could come uninvited. Even the house elves couldn't come here.
That had particularly unnerved his mother when his grandfather had called him for the reunions even after his disownment, but what could she do about it? After all, Arcturus had been the lord back then, and Sirius was second in line after his father as a heir.
He passed three ominous doors he knew to give access to chambers in which the Blacks had stored their most illegal possessions, and finally set foot in a large and long room – twice the size of the dining room actually. In the middle of the room was the biggest table he had ever seen after those of Hogwarts' Great Hall. The room was dimly lit with his lumos, and Sirius let out a light orb to take care of that. He was going to need his wand, and anyway, he didn't fancy staying with his arm stretched in front of him because he couldn't see a thing. The light orb gained in intensity, and after a short minute, most of the room was visible. And of course, whispers came from the walls.
Sirius winced at that. He had forgotten they were here, and surely, it would be unpleasant.
His eyes wandered to a giant mural painting.
It covered the two walls on his right and left, and held the entire Black Family, even those who had never had their portrait done, even those who had married into the family, even those who had been disowned. All the Blacks who had passed away, centuries and centuries of Blacks, there, staring at him, staring at the newest Black lord with the patronizing curiosity of people who were unaffected by everything, because they were from the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, because they were dead and no one could destroy these paintings, because no one could do anything to them.
Great. He wasn't eager to see dear mother and father anytime soon, but apparently, he'd have no choice. As always. Bloody Blacks.
"Sirius."
The voice froze all his thoughts.
The young lord turned to his left to look at the man who had walked across the mural, from the other side of the room, to talk to him.
It was a man he had known little, always busy with things to do for the Ministry, against the Ministry, for the family, against some family members. A man with ink-black hair and a pale complexion, but who looked much younger than Sirius had ever seen him. It wasn't surprising. Those weren't portraits. It had to do with charms, blood magic, potions and a couple of other fields. Arcturus Black certainly felt in the mood to be young this day, and if Sirius came back tomorrow, he could as well look seventy again, or even eleven.
The other Blacks, older, more ancient, moved away a bit to let the previous lord talk with his heir.
"Grandfather. How uncanny to see you even after your death."
Sirius had his tone under control, and nothing could be read on his face other than what he wanted to be seen, but his heart was racing so fast he had a feeling it'd jump out of his chest the first chance it would get.
Not that Sirius didn't like his grandfather. But there were hundreds of people, all from their family, all with one or more Black features on their faces, all these faces, all these people, their ancestors, their blood, they were all there, watching the two Lords of the house of Black, interested in what had become of their family after five years of silence, since Arcturus' last hour as a living being, and his first hour in the painting. Those who had portraits outside had become particularly frustrated when the lord's death had shut down their access to the rest of the wizarding world.
"Don't be daft, Sirius. You knew very well we'd be there when you came in."
This wasn't Arcturus' voice, and Sirius knew without a doubt whose voice it was.
The young lord forced his face to turn into something akin to a smile and looked at the figure who'd followed his grandfather from the other side of the room.
Well, at least she looked way better than at Grimmauld Place. Once he'd have opened the Manor, her portrait and the painting would connect again and luckily her portrait would be a bit more pleasant next time he'd go there. Maybe. Though he doubted it. She'd be less crazy, since the painting here had taken her normal personality into account, and not the demented version of her later years, but she wouldn't be pleasant. Less vocal, maybe. Better than nothing.
"Dear mother, how unpleasant to see you even after your death... Just so you know, your London portrait is becoming battier by the day."
Walburga Black's painting frowned in distate, but said nothing, and they left the insult contest there, even if the older paintings were looking at them in surprise.
"Sirius, we all know you were in Azkaban with a life sentence. What are you doing here?"
The young lord waved the question away and walked to the back of the room, where an empty stone basin with silver runes carved in it stood alone facing the curve in the wall – the room ended with a semicircle. Some figures joined him there, looking at him with interest – or disgust for his mother – or even some fondness in his father who still hadn't spoken a word.
"I'll have to talk to some of you, but later. For now, I have wards and floo connections and a lot of other things to attend to..."
He reached for his dagger – yes, a dagger, because he was a bit paranoid and even though he was a wizard, having a dagger with him at all times could always come in handy. There had been a time in Knockturn Alley – and no, he wouldn't tell what an auror in training could possibly be doing in Knockturn Alley during his free time – when he had escaped death only thanks to this particular dagger... which he'd just bought, actually. Anyway. He had found it in his old room in the manor, certainly from his last visit, the last family reunion, in October 1980...
Sirius' fingers went back and forth on the silver blade, remembering how the weapon had caught his eye in Borgin & Burkes during a patrol with Mad-Eye. He'd said nothing at the time, but the Black crest on the dagger hadn't left his mind... Maybe he did care about family heirlooms, after all.
"But that's mine?!"
The distateful voice coming from the mural, once again, could only be one man's. Sirius had heard it too many times, since Phineas Nigellus always took the opportunity to tell him how much of a disgrace he was to the family each time Dumbledore had called him to his office, most likely for misbehavior.
The young lord looked up and stared at the old headmaster, who looked a bit too much like him for comfort as he had taken a younger appearance than in his portraits.
"Phineas... Before you ask, yes, you can babble everything you see here to Dumbledore if he wants you to tell him. I know you love to cackle on me, don't deny it. And if that's your dagger, please tell me why the hell I found it in Borgin & Burkes more than fifteen years ago?"
Phineas promptly shut up and backed away in the scenery, muttering about financial struggles.
Sirius sighed, eyeing the mural painting warily.
If every relative tried to talk to him for a reason or another, he'd never be done with it.
Seeing that no one dared to interrupt the current Black lord – after all, even the previous lords were only paintings, they weren't really there, they were some kind of a reminder of themselves and nothing more – Sirius shook his head in disbelief and extended his arm above the basin. He could understand that five years trapped down here with no light and the company of Blacks only could be difficult to bear, but still, did they really need to be so nosey just now?
The young wizard put the dagger on his forearm.
And he pressed the blade into the pale skin, feeling the bite of cold metal on and in his flesh, the slow flow of warm blood dripping in the basin. The silver runes on the black stones shone with a reddish glint, and he watched, as the basin drank his blood to the last drop.
Another lord for the House of Black.
The Black blood had opened the manor to the lord, and the Black blood would give the control of the property to the lord. The Black blood of the lord had given a new life to Black Manor, and the Black blood of the lord had strengthened the wards once again.
Another generation to the House of Black.
Sirius healed the long cut on his arm and cleared up the blood.
Then he turned around and his eyes fell on the long and dark stone table before him. Millions of silver runes could now be seen, only by him, the Black lord, of course. He had access to the manor's protections.
The first thing he did was to renew the wards allowing entry only to those who were part of the House of Black, thus allowing Andromeda, Ted, Dora and Narcissa to come in – even if the latter had married a Death Eater. They were family, after all, and with Lucius in jail, Narcissa might want to think back on her allegiance. However, he kept the privilege of inviting someone else in to himself, and he put up an alarm to tell him whenever someone did came in – Narcissa had married a Death Eater, after all.
Sirius then allowed in most of the members of the Order – though not all of them – as well as the children and Harry. He didn't register the five aurors' names, because he wasn't going to trust the Ministry anytime soon, and he felt better knowing they had to be invited in each time they'd come.
The floo connections were more complicated to deal with, as he had to set different parameters for partial transportation – communication without coming through – and actual travel.
The moment Sirius let the mural's lock open, several figures disappeared from the wall, gone to visit their portraits and get up to date. It would cause mayhem amongst the portraits for a while, because those had gone on having a mind of their own even with their ties to the mural severed.
Hopefully, he thought once again, hopefully it would change his mother's portraits back to sanity... And luckily, Walburga would be so ashamed of her portrait's mad ravings she'd shut up for a time. Of course, she'd still be a firm believer in blood purity and filth, but screaming like the mad portrait did was nowhere near a Black's correct behavior.
Sirius was wondering if he could somehow add a ward that'd set any bearer of the Dark Mark on fire when a tiny star wandered under his nose. He blinked, puzzled once more at what else he might have forgotten about the secret basement. Then a diffuse light which wasn't coming from the light orb caught his attention, and he looked at the ceiling.
That, he was certain he hadn't forgotten.
That, he had never seen before.
Sirius hadn't noticed before, in the light from the orb, and his mind set on the wards, but hundreds of what looked like minuscule stars had appeared in the room, hovering above his head. The young lord, bemused, turned off the light orb and watched the dance of lights. It was beautiful, and when he reached to catch one, a warm feeling touched his palm, while a shy red light glowered out of his closed hand.
"A red dwarf..."
"That, youngster, is what is left of our lives."
Surprised, Sirius turned to the figure of a middle-aged Black witch – not that age meant anything here. She had red hair and a dark complexion, and she didn't look much like a Black, to say the truth, but she had the same eyes he did, the silver eyes known to the Blacks.
Sirius let go of the star, which wandered back to the ceiling.
"Hyades Black, isn't it?"
The woman smiled slightly, apparently pleased. Even if Sirius had made a point to be different from his family, he hadn't wished to lose his family history for all that. And Hyades Black had never been someone whose life had disgusted him. She had been a decent witch in the seventeenth century, a powerful, dangerous witch, a Black woman, certainly, but never a blood purity extremist.
"You learned well, despite what your mother claimed all those years."
Sirius winced and rolled his eyes.
"We never had the best relationship..."
Hyades Black smiled a bit more, obviously aware of the bad blood between the son and the mother. She had listened to Walburga Black once or twice in the last years, and the woman certainly had the Black madness, while Sirius Black shared none of his mother's views. Both of them had strong personalities, so it wasn't a surprise they hadn't been fond of each other...
The painting turned her attention back to the stars hovering in the room.
"One for each of us... Those lights are nothing else than for decoration, I admit, but it's pretty enough. Arcturus never displayed them during your time's family reunions, because you mother kept on saying how pointless and distracting they were."
"And I still do exactly that."
Sirius sighed at the interruption, and looked at his mother, who had finally come back from Grimmauld Place. He wouldn't have minded if she'd stayed there a little longer.
Hyades respectfully backed away and let the witch talk, but it might have more to do with not wanting to be in the middle of a Black tempers fight.
Several other paintings did just the same, and Sirius saw his father sighing in exasperation.
"Now, Sirius, would you mind explaining why you let halfbloods and mudbloods and even half-breeds into our London family home?"
The young man thought it was still better than having her screaming insults at whoever passed by as her old portrait had done, but he wasn't looking forward to this discussion nonetheless. Leaving Grimmauld Place at sixteen had also been due to his imbearable mother, after all.
Some figures let out outraged cries here and there on the wall, but were rapidly silenced by the others, who, if they didn't always like wizards and witches who weren't pureblooded, weren't as narrow-minded either.
"They are my friends, Mother, and I can invite whoever I feel like. I don't need your authorization anymore, and I don't fear your tantrums either. You can't tell me what I can do."
Walburga's painting said something which ashamed even the blood extremists of the family, and Sirius' anger flared. Orion Black was really thinking he needed to do something before the next time his son came down here, or each visit would be hell.
"Now listen, you bigoted old fool! I put up with your blood ravings for sixteen years, but you know very well I don't think anything of it. I met muggleborns who were thrice as gifted as you were, dear Mother, and you did too, but unlike me, you never had eyes to see the truth. My godson is a halfblood who survived five encounters with Voldemort. And my best friend is a werewolf who was the best Defense against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts in years. And as far as I know, the only ones who ever have squibs children are us purebloods, not muggleborns or halfbloods. So you'd better try to think about it twice next time you think of using the word 'mudblood', since they apparently are more prone to produce magical children than we are!"
Walburga took a step back in the painting, surprised by the spite in her son's words, and many other Blacks were looking at him with renewed interest. Yes, they had always known Sirius to be harsh and to hate his parents, but this was something else.
The young lord's tone was freezing.
Orion, still silent, remembered what he had heard about his son's life at Hogwarts, and realized it hadn't been a lie. All these years, when Sirius had argued with his mother, their son had never used that particular tone on her, because Walburga had still held a place in his heart.
This was the tone Sirius used on those he truly despised... Or, in this case, on those he loved but couldn't hope to see change their mind anymore – mostly because Walburga was dead, and Sirius knew it despite his tirade at her painting.
Orion Black's non-existent heart hurt a bit. His son still loved them, his family, his parents, even his mother, even after all she had done, even after what had been said, but he didn't believe in them anymore. It was even a wonder he had believed in them for so long.
Orion shook his head slightly. He'd talk to his wife.
"Now, I can understand, even if I can't understand, your stance about blood purity. I understand the logic, though I don't endorse it. I can't understand how you came to this logic, because it's twisted and sick."
Sirius turned to Druella and Cygnus Black, who'd watched the exchange tight-lipped.
"As for you, I'd like to point out that the filthy child of the daughter you repudiated because she married a muggleborn became an auror and is actually a metamorphmagus. I don't believe either of you can say as much. Oh, and surprise, I took Andromeda back in the family, with her muggleborn husband and her halfblooded metamorphmagus daughter. Don't you dare complain about it."
No one said a word. They were all too shocked to do that, and those who didn't actually care about purity were trying to bite back a laugh. Sirius was certain Alphard had walked away in the scenery only so that no one would see him cry with laughter.
"Sirius."
Orion Black had chosen to look as young as his son, because he wasn't going to play superior. He was only a painting, and his son was Lord Black. He had no right to force Sirius into anything, and wasn't going to try.
If the young lord was disturbed by their likeness, he said nothing.
"Father."
Orion walked to the curve in the wall, where three dark beds were painted. That was the place were each dying family member appeared as their life declined. When their eyes opened and they rose from the bed, it meant their life had come to an end, that they were nothing more than a painting.
Sirius watched as his father sat on the edge of the leftmost bed.
Orion Black put his hand on the head of the young man asleep in there.
Sirius stiffened.
"Regulus never opened his eyes. He's not dead yet."
"I'll find him. If I can save him, I'll do it. If not..."
"You'll end his suffering."
"He's my brother."
"He's my son."
There was an untold "thanks" in this exchange, and it was better this way. Neither Sirius nor Orion needed to say more, because they were father and son, because they cared about Regulus.
The Blacks were beginning to think it was enough entertainment for the day, and were going back to their other activities – gossiping, visiting their portraits, whatever they were doing before Sirius had come and whatever they could do now that the manor was open again, but Arcturus' voice called them back to the conversation. Because the question they heard was just utterly interesting and they had wondered the same thing since Sirius Black, convict in Azkaban, had walked into the secret basement of Black Manor.
"How did you get out of Azkaban?"
Sirius smirked and many wondered if that was bad or good news.
"Well, obviously, I escaped."
Eyes bulged and coughing was heard. But Sirius wasn't finished. He had been way too serious all along, and he wanted to play a bit before going back upstairs.
"Of course, you're forbidden from telling this to anyone. But it wasn't so difficult, really, I just had to transform and get out when dementors came with food. Oh, right, you don't know. Mother, Dad, I'm an unregistered animagus, a grim, actually."
He transformed, transformed back, and grinned. More eyes bulged and more coughing was heard.
"Proud of me? I hope so, after all, I became one with James and Peter, that filthy traitor, but that's not the point, when we were only fifteen... Anyway, I was just this skinny, with Azkaban's meals, it wasn't so difficult... Yet, swimming to the shore while underfed wasn't so easy, and avoiding capture for three years after that is a feat, I suppose... Anyway, I'm innocent, and as my trial is wednesday, I'll soon be free as a bird."
He was going to let the gobsmacked idiots and other giggling relatives – especially Alphard – to their bewilderment, and go back upstairs, when he wondered about Bellatrix. She was dead, after all, so was she here? Sirius went back to where he had talked to Bella's parents, and saw the witch, looking in her thirties, sitting on a chair with a lost look on her face. Maybe it had to do with her being a ghost at the same time as being in the painting?
"Bella?"
The figure's eyes lit up instantly, and winked at him. Every Black in the room except Sirius was shocked, for the girl had not said a word nor reacted to anything after her death.
"Oh, don't worry about this, it's only because I killed her. I mean, she killed me first, honestly."
And Sirius left the basement with a huge grin on his face, always happy to mess with his relatives.
Down there, three prior Lords of the House of Black shared a look, knowing very well what their descendant had meant by that, and they decided they needed to go wander in the painting in the master room. They needed to talk about the Reciprocation curse, and they'd be damned if that hadn't been an invitation to do so.