8th November 1972

Sirius Black had stopped reading letters from home around a month ago. Every envelope sealed with the Black family crest carried the same thing—disappointment, a scolding, orders disguised as advice. But this morning, when an owl swooped down and dropped a thick parchment onto his plate, he knew it wasn't from his mother.

It was from his father.

Sirius hesitated before unfolding the letter. The handwriting was sharp and precise, every word carefully controlled:

Sirius,

Your behaviour has been an embarrassment for far too long. I had hoped that time at Hogwarts would knock some sense into you, but instead, you continue to disgrace our name with your childish rebellion.

Regulus understands what it means to be a Black. He carries himself with dignity, respects tradition, and upholds our values. You should take a lesson from your younger brother because, as of now, you are nothing but a disappointment. I will not have a son who defies everything this family stands for.

If you insist on making a mockery of yourself, do not expect to be welcomed home. You may think you can sever yourself from your blood, but it will always define you. One day, you will realize that.

-Orion Black

The words clenched around Sirius' throat, hot anger bubbling in his chest. He crushed the letter in his fist, shoving it into his pocket before anyone could notice.

Breakfast was tense after Sirius sat down, his mind still storming over his father's words. Across the Great Hall, he spotted Regulus at the Slytherin table, looking as pristine and composed as ever. The perfect Black heir.

The anger clawing inside him boiled over.

Sirius pushed up from his seat and strode toward the Slytherin table, ignoring James' muttered warning. "Oi, Regulus!" His voice rang out, loud enough that half the hall turned to watch. A hush spread among the students, sensing something bigger brewing.

Regulus glanced up, surprised, then quickly masked it. "What do you want, Sirius?"

Sirius tossed the crumpled letter onto the table. "You must be thrilled. Another perfect report home. Bet they'll throw you a bloody parade."

Regulus stiffened, setting down his fork carefully. "I didn't ask for this."

"Didn't you?" Sirius barked a laugh. "You don't exactly fight it either. You sit there, prim and proper, just eating up whatever they tell you. 'Yes, Mother. No, Father.' It must be easy, never thinking for yourself."

Regulus' jaw tightened. "Just because I don't throw a tantrum every time I don't get my way doesn't mean I don't think for myself."

Sirius sneered. "Thinking for yourself? Is that what you call blindly parroting everything they say? Is that what you tell yourself at night so you can sleep?"

A few gasps came from nearby students. Snape, seated a few seats away, looked on with open amusement. Mulciber and Avery were grinning, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

Regulus' composure cracked for a fraction of a second before he recovered. "At least I don't humiliate our family in front of half the school just to prove a point."

Sirius leaned forward, voice low but biting. "That's the difference between us, Reg. You still think our family name means something. But all it does is choke you until you forget who you are. And one day, you're going to wake up and realize you let them make you into something you never wanted to be."

Regulus' expression faltered. For the first time, Sirius saw something behind his brother's carefully constructed mask—uncertainty, doubt. But then, just as quickly, Regulus hardened again, straightening his shoulders. "You think you're better than us, but you're not, Sirius. You can't just run from blood."

Sirius' stomach twisted. "Watch me."

Murmurs rippled through the Slytherin table. Snape was smirking, watching the exchange with cold amusement. Mulciber and Avery whispered to each other, barely concealing their laughter.

Regulus' jaw tightened. "At least I'm not throwing my family's name in the dirt for attention."

Sirius felt his fists clench. "You think this is about attention? Maybe I just don't want to be another Black puppet."

Regulus' face darkened.

James suddenly appeared at Sirius' side, gripping his shoulder. "Come on, mate. Let's go."

Sirius hesitated for a beat, eyes still locked on Regulus, whose expression was unreadable now. He wanted to say more and shake his brother until he saw sense—but what was the point? Regulus had already chosen his path.

With a huff, Sirius let James pull him away, but the tension in his chest didn't ease. Even as he sat back down at the Gryffindor table, surrounded by friends, he could feel Regulus' eyes still on him from across the hall, burning like a reminder of everything he was trying to leave behind. Regulus had looked genuinely hurt, and somehow, that made Sirius feel worse than any insult could.

By the time Potions rolled around, Sirius' mood had only worsened. He sat hunched over his cauldron, stirring with more force than necessary as Slughorn droned on about brewing techniques. James, sitting beside him, kept shooting him wary glances.

And then, Mulciber muttered, just loud enough for Sirius to hear, "Guess some family blood runs thinner than others. Makes sense Sirius would be the first to taint his."

Something inside Sirius snapped.

Before he even realized what he was doing, he grabbed the heavy cauldron lid and hurled it straight at Mulciber's head.

It hit with a resounding clang. Mulciber yelped, toppling sideways into his cauldron. A cloud of greenish steam erupted as his potion spilled everywhere.

The classroom went silent.

Slughorn whirled around, mustache quivering. "Mr. Black! What on earth—"

"Detention," Sirius said flatly, pushing back from his chair and grabbing his bag from under the table.

"Correct," Slughorn snapped, recovering from his shock. "Tonight, my office. And count yourself lucky I don't take points. Now, clean this mess up!"

Sirius stalked out of the room, James scrambling after him.

…

Later that evening, after serving his detention, Sirius trudged back toward Gryffindor Tower, only to be stopped by Professor McGonagall at the base of the staircase.

She studied him, arms crossed, her sharp eyes scanning his face. "Mr. Black, I do not condone violence in a classroom. Ever." She paused for a moment, sighing, "But I understand that sometimes tempers can get the better of us."

Sirius scoffed, looking away. "That's an understatement."

McGonagall didn't smile. "What happened today, Sirius? And I don't mean just the cauldron lid incident."

Sirius hesitated, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Nothing. Just the usual. Slytherins being prats, family being a nightmare. Same as always."

McGonagall sighed. "I won't pretend to understand the pressure you face, but I will tell you this—you are more than the name you were born into. The choices you make now, the people you surround yourself with—those define you far more than your bloodline ever will."

Sirius blinked at her, his throat tightening unexpectedly. "Doesn't feel like that sometimes."

"Then perhaps you need to remind yourself more often," she said simply. "Your family name may be Black, but that does not mean your future is written in stone. You have the power to be whoever you choose to be."

For the first time that day, something inside Sirius eased, if only a little. He gave a small nod. "Thanks, Professor."

McGonagall studied him for another moment before giving him a curt nod. "Now, off to bed. And do try to stay out of trouble!"

Sirius let out a small chuckle, then turned and made his way up the staircase, her words still lingering in his mind.

That night, when the common room was quiet, and the fire burned low, Sirius pulled his father's letter from his pocket.

He unfolded it one last time, rereading every cruel word, letting it settle in his bones. Then, with slow, deliberate movements, he fed the parchment to the flames.

He watched as the fire curled around the paper, blackening the edges before consuming it completely.

James, sitting nearby, didn't say anything. He didn't need to. He simply nudged a bar of Honeydukes chocolate toward Sirius and returned to his book.

Sirius exhaled and let his head fall back against the armchair.

For the first time that day, he felt lighter.