บท 176: Chapter 176: Tabula Rasa (4)
The tall, dark townhouses sat close together, their grim facades softened only slightly by the April sunshine. Ivy creeped along the walls, its fresh green tendrils adding a hint of life to the grey stone, while sparse patches of wildflowers push up stubbornly through cracks in the pavement, defying the lingering shadows. Occasionally, Muggles crossed the little square to buy something from the vegetable cart parked in front of number 11. Some of them smirked as they glanced at the neighbouring house, numbered 13—a private joke among locals, who claimed that the owners of number 12 got so fed up with door-to-door salesmen that they simply made the whole house disappear.
In reality, there was a grain of truth to that claim, as Number 12 did indeed stand out amidst its gloomy neighbours—though only those with magic, and an invitation to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, could actually see it. For many in the Wizarding society, such an invitation was considered an honour, but in Sirius Black's opinion, it was far from worth anyone's time. The rebellious heir of the Black family was currently sprawled across his bed, staring aimlessly at the wood-panelled ceiling. So far, the Easter break was exactly as miserable as he'd expected.
The young wizard would have gladly stayed at Hogwarts or gone to Godric's Hollow with James, but his mother had insisted he return to London, even threatening to forbid him from ever visiting the Potters again. In all honesty, he was baffled by her efforts to get him back; no one in his family enjoyed having him around, and the feeling was mutual. The Easter lunch had been painfully awkward, and the thought of spending the evening in the company of his extended family—including his cousins—made him feel nothing short of wretched.
The boy was vaguely aware of a commotion downstairs; he'd overheard his parents talking about some meeting during tea, though he had no interest in joining. Not that he'd been invited. These gatherings always followed the same tiresome script: pure-bloods flaunting their wealth and connections, grumbling about Muggles, the Ministry, Dumbledore, and Muggle-borns. The whole charade was drenched in expensive alcohol and, occasionally, potions that Sirius was fairly certain were illegal.
'I wish I could just leave.' – the teenager thought bitterly. Unfortunately, trying to sneak out of the house at this moment would probably mean bumping into some of the guests, who would undoubtedly recognise him and obstruct his escape. The thought of yet another fight with his mother made him sigh heavily, so he resigned himself to doodling in his sketchbook for a while.
After about fifteen minutes, Sirius tossed the sketchbook aside and began pacing around the room. Being trapped at Grimmauld Place for an entire week was wearing on his nerves. Even drawing, his usual escape, couldn't calm him anymore—especially since he always seemed to end up sketching big black cats. Shaking his head, he tried to shift his mind elsewhere.
A glance out the window caught his attention. A small group stood at the front door, one figure cloaked and hooded, while the person beside them was unmistakable. 'What's that prat Lucius Malfoy doing here?' - Sirius growled under his breath, his curiosity instantly piqued. For a moment, he considered making an appearance downstairs to eavesdrop, but his mother's warning echoed in his mind: the gathering was for adults only, and despite being the eldest son, he wasn't allowed to attend.
Carefully cracking his door open, the young wizard crept down the corridor and peeked over the railing of the staircase. From this distance, the crowd on the ground floor was a blur of shifting silhouettes, and voices filled the air, too muffled to discern. The sounds grew more contained, indicating that the guests were likely assembling in the salon — the largest room in the house.
Sirius slipped down the stairs, moving as quietly as he could. At the base, he ducked behind the lavishly carved newel post in the shape of battling serpents—a smart choice, as his mother walked by moments later with Aunt Druella, Bella, and Cissy, all dressed in expensive black robes. This struck him as strange; neither of his cousins was of age. While Narcissa was close, turning seventeen in a few months, it didn't explain why Bellatrix was allowed to attend. The sight only deepened Sirius's sense of being kept in the dark.
The door closed behind the witches, and for a brief moment, the solid wood glowed with a faint golden light—unmistakable evidence that the entrance was warded. Burning with curiosity, the young wizard remembered a small passage that led from the kitchen to the salon, used by house-elves to serve the family more efficiently, especially during gatherings.
'Maybe I can hear something.' – Sirius thought, dashing towards the far end of the entry hall. The cavernous room with rough stone walls, which served as a kitchen, was currently empty, but the scattered wine bottles and trays piled with smoked salmon canapés, wild mushroom tartlets, and blackberry-lavender macarons suggested there were at least twenty guests upstairs.
The boy crouched next to the narrow opening near the fireplace. It was tight, but with some effort, he thought he could squeeze through. After a solid fifteen minutes of wriggling and manoeuvring, he managed to crawl through the passage and reach the other end, which was discreetly concealed behind one of the salon's heavy curtains. Afraid of making any noise, he barely shifted the thick fabric in front of his face, keeping his movements minimal as he peeked out, his head and shoulders emerging just enough to observe the scene.
Familiar faces filled the room—pure-bloods from old families, many of whom shared the Blacks' fervent views about the Wizarding world and the role of pure-bloods within it. At the centre of the gathering, Lucius Malfoy stood with an arrogant smile, clearly in the midst of a speech.
"You're absolutely right, Cygnus!" – he exclaimed, nodding toward Sirius' uncle – "These are difficult times that only show how far our world has fallen. Where our ancestors walked with pride, we now find ourselves overlooked, our traditions ignored, our bloodlines dismissed as relics of a time they deem obsolete. The Ministry – bloated with blood-traitors, imposes rules upon us without respect for the heritage that built this world. And Hogwarts—filled with weak Mudbloods, under the protection of Albus Dumbledore, who basks in their admiration for opening the doors of our temple of knowledge to those who hardly deserve it. Only the House of Slytherin remains a true bastion of noble blood—the families who wielded magic while others were blind to it, who shaped this society and safeguarded it through the centuries. It's time to reclaim what's rightfully ours, to restore balance.
He paused, letting his gaze sweep the room. "There is one among us who understands this, who has the power and vision to usher in a new era of strength, unity, and respect for our kind. I know many of you have heard rumours, lies even, which is why I've brought Algernon here with me today. He has been the Dark Lord's most trusted friend and ally since their school days, and he is one of the few who can speak to what the Dark Lord truly stands for and bring you the truth!"
The cloaked man Sirius had seen with Malfoy earlier removed his hood and stepped closer to Lucius. Sirius vaguely recalled him from some banquet or other pointless gathering, but he was certain the man was the Avery patriarch and grandfather of Tarquin, Sabina, and Marcellus. He had the same dark eyes and pointed chin as all of them.
The wizard nodded to a few people in the room and cleared his throat. "Thank you, Lucius. It's truly heartening to see young men among us so dedicated to family and tradition. The truth is, you should witness for yourselves the strength, wisdom, and compassion the Dark Lord brings to our world. He understands us—he understands the importance of tradition, the sanctity of purity, and the need to safeguard our heritage. Unlike those who seek only to appease Mudbloods and blood traitors in power, diluting our magic, he envisions a world where we thrive, where wizarding bloodlines are respected, and our unique gifts are celebrated. He doesn't ask us to lower ourselves or compromise who we are; instead, he offers us unity, strength, and the chance to restore the magical world to its rightful glory. He is a man who cares deeply about our future, who will protect our culture and respect our ancestors. With his guidance, we can achieve a world that honours the true power and legacy of magic. I have personally seen him grow into the most powerful wizard of our time, and I'm here to invite you to meet him yourselves and lend your support to what I know you all hold dear…"
Sirius couldn't hear the rest of the speech because someone—or something—had grabbed him by the ankles and yanked him sharply back into the kitchen. Blinking in confusion as he lay sprawled on the stone floor, he recognised the familiar, grating voice of their old house-elf, Kreacher.
"The young Master is such a bad boy." – the creature muttered, pacing briskly around the room – "Kreacher will tell the Mistress right away. She will be furious, my poor Mistress. But it is Kreacher's duty."
"Duty, my ass." – Sirius growled, leaping to his feet – "You just love when I'm in trouble. Don't you have anything better to do? The monsters upstairs are probably thirsty."
"The young Master must not speak that way about the noble witches and wizard who grace the House of Black with their presence!" – Kreacher nearly screeched – "This is why the Mistress cannot trust her eldest son to attend such important meetings. He's an arrogant, Mudblood-loving prick."
"And you're a disgusting old sneak, so what?" – Sirius snapped, his anger rising by the second – "This is my house. I can go wherever I please. Go on, tell my mother. I've already heard more than enough."
The house-elf's wrinkled face twisted into a bizarre expression, halfway between a grin and a snarl. He darted toward the kitchen door but collided with Regulus, who had just entered.
"Young Master!" – Kreacher bowed to the second son of the Black family – "Kreacher is very sorry. He is in a hurry to speak with the Mistress about Master Sirius' disrespect for her orders."
"Oh." – Regulus raised an eyebrow, glancing at his brother, who scoffed – "I came down to ask for a few sandwiches, but I wouldn't bother Mother if I were you. She's the host of the meeting, and she's about to speak after Mister Avery—which is a huge honour. You absolutely shouldn't trouble her with such trivial matters. Since when does Sirius ever behave properly? It's hardly something she needs to deal with right now."
Kreacher giggled and bowed again to the boy, then dashed off to the pantry to prepare the food. Without a word, Sirius brushed past his brother, heading back to his room.
"You could say thank you." – Regulus called after him with a smirk.
"You could go fuck yourself." – Sirius muttered, storming out of the kitchen. Once back in his room, he locked the door and threw himself onto the bed, closing his eyes in an attempt to calm his racing heart. Everything was spiralling out of control. He'd joked about his parents joining the Death Eaters to mask his growing fear that they truly were about to do just that. But today, seeing and hearing the mood among the guests had forced him to confront the ugly, terrifying reality of what Voldemort and his followers were planning.
As just a teenager caught in the middle of his family's dark ambitions, the young wizard realised he had few choices for avoiding association with the Dark Lord or meaningfully opposing him. He gritted his teeth, an overwhelming need to talk to James rising within him. His best mate always knew how to lift his spirits. There was no way he'd just sit back and watch as the Wizarding world descended into chaos, simply because he was unlucky enough to be born a pure-blood. If anything, that gave him a duty to fight people like his family and protect the innocent.
"Please stay safe." – Sirius whispered, wishing he'd stayed at Hogwarts to protect her.
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