章 3: 3
Sirius found himself observing his youngest brother Antares with a mixture of surprise and quiet approval. The once hyperactive and incessantly demanding toddler seemed to have undergone a transformation over the past few months. Their parents' decision to start Antares on etiquette lessons had evidently made a significant impact.
Seated at the long dining table in the grand Black family home, Sirius watched as Antares sat upright, his small form exuding an unexpected air of composure. The four-year-old's manners were markedly improved; he no longer bounced around with boundless energy, pestering everyone to play. Instead, he sat quietly, his attention focused on his plate with an earnest attempt to use his utensils properly.
Across from Sirius, his younger brother Regulus, who was a year younger and eagerly anticipating his own entry into Hogwarts next year, observed Antares with a mix of curiosity and pride. "He's different," Regulus remarked quietly, spearing a piece of roast with his fork. "Like he's trying to be... grown-up."
Sirius nodded slowly, acknowledging the change in Antares's demeanour. "Yeah," he murmured, surprised by how quickly their baby brother seemed to have matured. "It's like he's a whole new person."
Their mother, Walburga Black, who sat at the head of the table with a critical eye on her children's manners, nodded approvingly at Antares's improved comportment. "Antares, dear," she addressed him sternly but not unkindly, "you're doing much better today. Keep it up."
Antares beamed at the praise, a wide smile lighting up his face. "Thank you, Mother," he replied politely, his voice no longer shrill but rather composed for a child his age.
Sirius exchanged a surprised glance with Regulus, both of them silently acknowledging the significance of this change in their younger brother. For Sirius, who had often been exasperated by Antares's incessant energy and relentless demands for attention, seeing this new, more composed side of him was a relief.
Many months later, the bustling platform of King's Cross Station was filled with the sounds of excited chatter, the hissing of steam, and the occasional call of a parent reminding their child not to forget their trunk. Amidst the sea of faces, Sirius stood with his family, the weight of his impending departure to Hogwarts settling heavily on his shoulders.
His mother, Walburga, was there, her posture rigid and her expression unreadable. Sirius glanced around, noting with a twinge of disappointment that his father, Orion, was absent. He had hoped for some sign of approval or a word of encouragement, but it seemed Orion had deemed this moment unworthy of his presence.
Walburga turned to Sirius, her eyes cold and calculating. "Remember who you are, Sirius," she said, her voice low and formal. "You are a Black, and with that comes great responsibility. Uphold the family values and be cautious of whom you associate with."
Sirius nodded, feeling a mixture of defiance and resignation. He knew what his mother expected of him, and it was a heavy burden to carry. He wanted to break free from the oppressive expectations, to find his own way, but he also feared the consequences of defying his family.
Walburga's gaze hardened as she continued, "A Slytherin you will be," she demanded, her tone leaving no room for argument. It was not a hope or a wish; it was an order, a command that he was expected to follow without question.
Before Sirius could respond, Lady Greengrass called out, her voice carrying a note of delight that was in stark contrast to the sternness of his mother. "Walburga, darling!" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with genuine pleasure.
Walburga's stern expression softened ever so slightly as she turned to greet Lady Greengrass. "Dear Lady Greengrass," she replied, her voice now warm and courteous. "It's been far too long."
As the two women exchanged pleasantries, Sirius felt a pang of isolation. His mother's attention had shifted away from him, leaving him to stand alone amidst the throng of families and students. He glanced around, searching for a familiar face, and his eyes landed on Regulus and Antares, who stood nearby.
He turned to Antares, his youngest brother, who stood nearby with wide, admiring eyes. The noise and excitement of the platform buzzed around them, but for a moment, it felt like it was just the two of them.
"Come here, Antares," Sirius said softly, crouching down to his brother's level. "Can I have a hug before I go?"
Antares hesitated, his small face scrunching up in confusion and uncertainty. He glanced around, then back at Sirius, as if seeking permission from some unseen authority. "Mother and Father say we have to act accordingly in public... we are Blacks?" he said, his voice wavering slightly. "Hugging isn't... app... appropra... appropriate."
Sirius sighed, a mixture of frustration and sadness washing over him. The rigid expectations of their family had already started to mold Antares, even at his young age. He rolled his eyes, feeling the weight of those expectations himself. "Of course," he mumbled, a hint of bitterness in his tone.
He straightened up, giving Antares a small, forced smile. "Alright then, little brother," he said, ruffling Antares's hair gently. "Just remember what I taught you. And be good."
Antares nodded, his eyes still wide and uncertain. "I will, Sirius," he said quietly.
Sirius turned to Regulus, who stood silently beside them. Regulus offered a small, encouraging smile. "Take care, Sirius," he said, his voice steady and earnest. "And write to us, won't you?"
"I will, Reg," Sirius promised, giving his younger brother a brief, tight-lipped smile.
With a final glance at his family, Sirius boarded the train, his heart heavy yet filled with a flicker of determination.
As the train pulled away from the platform, taking Sirius toward his new life at Hogwarts, Regulus stood silently beside Antares. The younger boy's face was a mix of confusion and curiosity, his eyes still wide from the earlier exchange.
Regulus watched the train disappear from sight before turning to Antares. "I think you should have given him a hug," he said softly.
Antares's face scrunched up in confusion, a small frown forming on his lips. "Why?" he asked, his voice puzzled. "It is not... appro... appropriate."
Regulus sighed, feeling a mix of sadness and frustration at the rigid expectations their family had instilled in them. "Sometimes," he said quietly, "it's important to show people that we care about them, even if it's not 'appropriate.'"
Antares shook his head, crossing his arms defiantly. "No, Mother and Father said we have to act accordingly in public," he replied, his voice growing more insistent. "We are Blacks. Hugging isn't... it isn't appropriate!"
Regulus knelt down to Antares's level, trying to make him understand. "I know what they said, but Sirius is our brother. He's going away for a long time. Don't you think it would have been nice to show him that you'll miss him?"
Antares's frown deepened, and he looked away stubbornly. "No, I don't see why. He should know that without a hug. Besides, it's the rules."
Regulus felt a surge of frustration but forced himself to stay calm. "Rules are important, but sometimes showing love is more important. Sirius might have needed that hug today."
Antares glanced back at Regulus, his expression a mix of confusion and rebellion. "I don't care. Mother and Father know best. We have to follow the rules."
Regulus sighed, knowing he couldn't force Antares to understand. "Alright, Antares. But one day, you might see things differently."
Antares remained silent, his little face still scrunched up in defiance.
Regulus gave his younger brother a reassuring smile. "Come on," he said, gently steering Antares away from the platform. "Let's go find Mother."
As they began to walk, Antares hesitated, then reached out to hold Regulus's hand, seeking some comfort and reassurance. Regulus glanced down at Antares's small, outstretched hand but deliberately did not take it. Instead, he kept his own hands at his sides, hoping to help Antares understand, even in a small way, how Sirius might have felt.
Antares looked up at Regulus, his confusion turning into a slight pout. "Why won't you hold my hand, Reg?" he asked, his voice tinged with hurt.
Regulus stopped and looked at Antares with gentle eyes. "Sometimes, when we don't show we care, it can hurt others," he said softly. "Sirius might have felt hurt when you didn't hug him goodbye."
Antares frowned, the realization slowly dawning on him. "I... I didn't know."
"I know," Regulus said, giving his brother a small smile. "Just remember, showing you care is important, even if it doesn't seem 'appropriate.'"
Antares nodded slowly, absorbing his brother's words. "Okay, Reg."
Regulus finally reached down and took Antares's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Let's go find Mother," he said again, and this time, Antares walked beside him without hesitation, his small hand securely in his brother's.
It was a quiet afternoon at Grimmauld Place, the Black family gathered around the dining table for lunch. The usual formality hung in the air, everyone eating in near silence, when an owl swooped in, dropping a letter, it dropped directly in front of Walburga Black, who, like a queen presiding over her court, wasted no time in picking up the parchment with an air of expectation mixed with apprehension.
"What's this now?" Walburga muttered, her voice laced with thinly veiled disapproval as she unfolded the letter with precise, deliberate movements.
"Well?" Orion Black's voice broke the stillness, his tone calm yet tinged with concern as he looked towards his wife.
Walburga's eyes flashed with disbelief and indignation as she finally spoke, her voice carrying across the table with an edge of accusation. "It's from Hogwarts," she announced sharply, her words hanging heavy in the air. "... Sirius has been sorted into Gryffindor."
The impact of her words hit Regulus like a physical blow. He could feel the weight of his mother's disappointment, a weight that seemed to settle not just on Sirius but on the entire family. Antares, sensing the shift in atmosphere, looked between his mother and his brother with a mixture of confusion and concern.
"Gryffindor?" Orion's voice was softer now, tinged with a hint of resignation as he processed the news. He exchanged a glance with Regulus, silently acknowledging the implications of Sirius's sorting.
Walburga's grip on the letter tightened, her knuckles whitening. "He is supposed to be a Slytherin, like all respectable members of this family. This is a disgrace, a humiliation." Her voice, though measured, dripped with venom.
Antares, sitting at the table with wide, confused eyes, watched his mother and father with growing unease. He didn't fully understand the implications, but his parents' reactions made him deeply uncomfortable. Regulus sat quietly, absorbing the scene with a deep sense of dread.
"Is Gryffindor really bad?" Antares asked in a small voice, his question almost lost in the tension-filled room.
Regulus saw the opportunity to lead his younger brother away from the escalating tension. "Come on, Antares," he said softly, reaching out to take his hand. "Let's go."
But before they could leave the room, Walburga's sharp ears caught Antares's question. "Antares, come here," she commanded, her tone softening into a semblance of maternal affection as she addressed her youngest son.
Antares hesitated, then obeyed, stepping closer to his mother. Walburga knelt down, her expression still hard but her voice gentle as she spoke to him. "Gryffindor is very bad, my precious boy," she said, her eyes locking onto his. "It's a house for those who are foolish and reckless, who do not understand the importance of our family values. They are not like us. You must always remember that you are a Black, and we are better than that."
Antares nodded slowly, his young mind absorbing her words with a mix of confusion and acceptance. "Okay, Mother," he whispered.
Regulus watched the interaction, his heart heavy with a mixture of sorrow and frustration. He wanted to say something, to defend Sirius in some way, but he knew it would be futile. Instead, he remained silent, standing by as Walburga continued to poison Antares's young mind with her twisted ideals.
When Walburga finally released Antares, she turned back to Orion, her anger still simmering just beneath the surface. "We will have to deal with this," she said sharply, her voice controlled yet icy. "Sirius must understand the gravity of his mistake."
Orion nodded, his expression one of grim determination. "Indeed. He will not bring shame upon this family."
Regulus gently took Antares's hand again, leading him out of the room. As they walked away, Antares looked up at Regulus with wide, questioning eyes. "Is Sirius really bad because he's in Gryffindor?" he asked, his voice filled with uncertainty.
As they reached a quieter corner of the manor, away from their parents' sharp words, Regulus paused and knelt down to Antares's eye level. "Listen, Antares," he began gently, his voice tinged with concern. "Being in Gryffindor doesn't make Sirius bad. It just means he's different."
Antares frowned stubbornly, his brows knitting together in defiance. "Mother said Gryffindor is bad," he retorted, his voice laced with frustration. "And if Sirius is in Gryffindor, then he must be bad too."
Regulus sighed inwardly, knowing how deeply ingrained their mother's words were in Antares's impressionable mind. He reached out to place a comforting hand on Antares's shoulder. "Mother has strong opinions, but that doesn't mean they're always right," he explained patiently. "Sirius is our brother, and he's still the same person, no matter what house he's in."
Antares's expression softened slightly, but he remained defiant. "But why did he have to go to Gryffindor?" he asked, his voice wavering between curiosity and frustration.
Regulus hesitated, searching for the right words. "Sometimes things happen that we can't control," he replied gently. "But that doesn't change who Sirius is. He's still our brother, and we should support him, no matter what."
Antares chewed on his bottom lip, considering Regulus's words carefully. "But Mother said..." he started again, his voice trailing off uncertainly.
Regulus squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "I know what Mother said," he interjected softly. "But maybe she's wrong about this."
Antares looked up at Regulus, his young face conflicted. "I don't know," he muttered, his stubbornness waning slightly.
"I'm going to be a Slytherin," Antares declared suddenly, his voice filled with a mixture of pride and certainty. "Mummy and Daddy were Slytherins, and Grandpa was a Slytherin too! Slytherin is the best house."
Regulus felt a pang of unease but didn't interrupt as Antares continued, listing off all the people he knew who were Slytherins and why it was such a prestigious house. His innocent enthusiasm painted a stark contrast to the somber atmosphere of their surroundings.
Finally, after listing several relatives and family friends who had been in Slytherin, Antares turned to Regulus with wide, innocent eyes. "Are you going to be a Slytherin too, Reggie?" he asked, his voice curious and expectant.
Regulus hesitated, caught off guard by the question.
Regulus knew that in this moment, his words could either reinforce their family's beliefs or set a different example.
"Yes, Antares," Regulus finally said, his voice steady but tinged with uncertainty. "I'll be a Slytherin too."
Antares beamed with delight, his face lighting up as if Regulus had just given him the greatest gift. "Yay! We'll both be Slytherins together," he exclaimed, his excitement contagious.
Regulus managed a small smile, trying to mirror Antares's enthusiasm. Deep down, he knew that choosing Slytherin was not just about appeasing their parents—it was about maintaining unity and loyalty within the family, a value instilled in him from a young age.
...
Sirius sat on his bed in the Gryffindor dormitory, the dim light of the common room casting long shadows across the stone walls. In his hands, he held a letter, its parchment worn and creased from repeated readings. The neat, precise handwriting belonged to his father, Orion Black, the future head of the noble Black family—a family steeped in tradition, legacy, and unwavering expectations.
As Sirius read the letter, his heart sank with each carefully chosen word that dripped with disappointment and disapproval. His father's voice seemed to echo in his mind, the words conveying a profound sense of shame and failure. Sirius could almost hear the solemnity in his father's voice as he penned each line, each phrase a reminder of the high standards Sirius had failed to meet.
"My dear Sirius," the letter began, the formality of the address contrasting sharply with the weight of its content. "It is with great concern that I write to you regarding your recent Sorting into Gryffindor House. As an heir to the Black family name, it was expected and indeed hoped that you would follow in the footsteps of generations past by joining Slytherin House."
Sirius's fingers tightened around the parchment, his brows furrowing as he struggled to maintain his composure. He had known this letter would come, inevitable as the changing seasons. Yet, facing his father's disappointment in such stark terms was more daunting than he had anticipated.
"I must impress upon you the importance of tradition and allegiance," the letter continued, each word measured and deliberate. "Your placement in Gryffindor House jeopardizes not only your own future but also the reputation and standing of our esteemed family. It is imperative that you reflect deeply upon your choices and actions and consider how they may impact our family's honour."
Sirius exhaled slowly, his mind racing with conflicting emotions. He had always been aware of the weight of his family's expectations, the burden of carrying the Black name forward with pride and dignity. But the Sorting Hat had seen something in him—bravery, perhaps, or a defiance against conformity—that had led it to place him in Gryffindor.
Frustrated, Sirius crumpled the parchment and was about to toss it into the flames when a voice interrupted him.
A voice interrupted his solitude. "What are you reading there, Black?" It was James Potter, his tone cautious yet curious, a fellow pureblood who seemed to navigate Hogwarts with ease.
Sirius glanced up, meeting James's steady gaze. "Nothing important," he replied coolly, his guard immediately up.
James nodded, understanding the unspoken tension. "I get it," he said evenly. "It's not easy being judged by your family."
Sirius raised an eyebrow, surprised by James's empathy. "You know about the Blacks?" he asked, his voice tinged with suspicion.
James nodded again. "Pureblood families, we're all supposed to know each other, right?" He shrugged. "But you seem different. Are you like them, Sirius? The rest of your family?"
Sirius stiffened at the question, his jaw tightening. "No," he said firmly, a touch of defiance in his voice. "I'm not like them. I'll never be like them."
James studied Sirius for a moment, then a small smile tugged at his lips. "Then can we be friends?" he asked casually, extending a hand towards Sirius.
Sirius hesitated, surprised by the offer. His instinct was to refuse, to maintain his distance from everyone who judged him by his family's reputation. But something about James's sincerity and openness made him pause.
After a moment's silence, Sirius tentatively reached out and shook James's hand. "Call me Sirius," he said quietly, his voice betraying a hint of nervousness.
James nodded, his smile widening. "Nice to meet you, Sirius," he said warmly. "I think we're going to get along just fine."
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