FIC: Rite of Passage
After OotP ripped out my heart, and DH stomped on it, I stopped writing Harry Potter fanfic, and then, eventually stopped writing any fanfic at all. But I've been going through old unfinished WIPs on my laptop, and I started trying to finish them. This one was closest to being complete, and after a few minor edits, here it is.
Author's Note: I know that wizards and witches legally come of age at seventeen, but let’s assume for the purposes of this story that the traditional age for a particular coming of age rite was younger, and that the traditional age has lingered for this rite.
Rite of Passage
August 1967
Sirius knew he’d reach the doorway to the garden if he kept moving forward. He’d only caught brief glimpses of sunlight pouring in through the French doors-far too many adults in the room for a clear view-but he knew he was moving in the right direction. He paused again as two more black-robed adults crossed his path. He rather thought it was like being lost in a forest of dark trees, enchanted to move and block his path. No, not lost. He knew which way sunlight and escape lay, and he was making progress, even if he did have to detour slightly time and again
Still, a forest of malicious trees would make a great setting for a bedtime story for Regulus tonight. If he told it right, he could give the sniveling crybaby nightmares; serve him right that he got to stay home while Sirius had to come to this stupid funeral for a teenager he barely knew. He got to stay home just because he was only six.
Sirius just had to keep from being noticed before he did escape. If his mother, father, or grandmother spotted him trying to get out, he’d be trapped by their sides for the rest of afternoon. If he just kept quiet, and didn’t bump into anyone, no adult would bother to speak to him. And if no one spoke to him, his parents wouldn’t know where in the room he was. He just had to pretend to be invisible and in a way, he would be.
The adults’ conversations were all around him, one voice picking up as another fell behind.
“Why the Board tolerates a fool like Dippet, I’ll never…”
“…Ministry another knut of my money. They keep wasting it on Muggle protection and…”
“…negligence and incompetence. A nesting female dragon? That’s sheer suicide.”
Sirius’s ears picked up at this conversation, as they did at all conversations pertaining to the manner of Cassius Malfoy’s death. Sirius hadn’t known Cassius well enough to feel any sense of loss. Instead, he felt only a fascinated awe that someone he knew, even vaguely, had been killed by a dragon. He continued toward the sunlight but did slow slightly to hear more.
“If the guide had surivived, I’m certain the Malfoys would make him wish he hadn’t.” A few people laughed quietly at this.
“And they’d be right,” a woman added. “Pure incompetence. He was supposed to lead the boy to a juvenile dragon.”
“I suppose she was the best he could do. It’s difficult to find any unprotected dragons now that most of them are on dragon preserves.”
“Oh, this dragon was on a preserve. Anything can be had for a price.”
“And the Malfoys could afford the price.”
Sirius had continued to make his quiet way toward the French doors through all this, and when a group of five adults split apart to move in separate directions, Sirius’s way was suddenly clear. He’d reached the outer edge of the enchanted dark forest, and the sunlit clearing beckoned. Sirius walked toward the door-not daring to call attention to himself by running--certain that his mother would screech his name at any moment. The door was already ajar, and Sirius held his breath as he slipped through. Freedom.
But he wasn’t alone.
An older boy with pale blond hair, the Malfoy’s other son, Lucius, was sitting upon the low wall that separated the patio from the smooth green lawn sloping down to a pond. The boy started slightly at the sound of Sirius’s step on the flagstone patio, but when he saw that it was only Sirius and not an adult, he returned to staring out at the pond and the wood both artfully designed to provide scenic views from the house.
Sirius took the dismissive glance he’d been given as tacit permission to come out onto the patio and share the silence. Lucius switched his wand like a scythe and, with a severing charm, beheaded several tall flowers growing in front of the wall. The movement and the sound drew Sirius’s eye to Lucius’s wand, a tangible reminder that Lucius was his elder by several years.
Since Lucius was his elder, Sirius knew he should wait until he was addressed. On the other hand, Lucius’s brother had just died, and Sirius had come here with his parents to offer his condolences to the Malfoys.
Sirius squared his shoulders and recited the formal words his mother had instructed him to say. “May I offer my condolences for your tragic loss.”
Lucius nodded in recognition of the words and put his wand back into his pocket.
“Look, it’s dead boring in there--no pun intended. Want to go for a walk down to the pond?” Lucius asked. “I have to go back inside soon or my father will notice, but--”
“All right.” Sirius hoped he didn’t sound too eager to escape.
A path of grey pebbles led in a graceful curving path toward the pond and then encircled it. Sirius followed a half step behind the older boy and looked in the shallows at the edge of the pond. He wondered if any frogs or fish lived in there. If he did see a frog, he’d be sorely tempted to catch it and bring it home as a trophy to show Regulus; however, he knew his parents would be furious if he went frog-catching at a funeral and got his dress robes wet or muddy.
“A grindlylow,” Lucius said as he suddenly pointed to ripples on the pond’s surface. “Did you see?”
“No, missed it.”
It struck Sirius that Lucius and Cassius had probably spent many hours together at this pond: wading in the shallows, trying to catch Grindlylows, splashing and dunking one another, all the things he would do with his own brother if they had a pond like this near their house. Suddenly, Cassius was a real person to him; he was the brother of the boy beside him. Sirius felt a sick emptiness inside when he tried to imagine how he’d feel if his brother died. Regulus could be a pain in the arse--little brothers were supposed to be--but it was good to know he was there too.
He looked up at Lucius and thought about what he must be feeling as he faced life without his only brother. Now Sirius understood why his mother had said they had an obligation to come to this funeral. He realized that this much sorrow needed to be shared.
“Lucius, what I said before, I really am sorry that your brother died.”
Lucius looked down at Sirius and a slight smile quirked up one corner of his mouth. “That’s because you were born the eldest son.”
* * * * *
July 1969
Sirius had learned that enduring the receiving line at parties like this, congratulating the often spotty-faced teenager who is suddenly, miraculously a man--Sirius almost snorted at that idea--and thanking the teenager’s parents, their hosts, is the just the price he must pay for eating as much cake as he wants and for enjoying a few hours with other children with limited supervision by his parents. Regulus fidgeted beside him, balancing on one foot and falling into their mother’s side. She glared down at them, and Sirius stood stock still so she’d see that it was only Regulus who was misbehaving.
At last it was their turn. Maurice Goyle, spotty and overweight, and his parents, a horsy-faced witch and a trollish wizard, greeted Sirius’s parents and shook their hands. Sirius then shook each hand in turn and repeated the lines he’d been instructed to say. He heard Regulus behind him parroting the same words of congratulations. Sirius glanced at the table beside Maurice as he waited for his brother. An animal pelt of coarse grey fur lay there on display. Sirius surreptitiously stroked the long fur of the werewolf’s tail before being steered away by his father’s firm hand on his shoulder.
The necessary formalities fulfilled, Sirius and Regulus were permitted to escape into the garden with the other children attending the party: their Black cousins, distant cousins, children of other pureblood families. Although the garden was larger than the one at Grimmauld Place, the high walls made it seem just as confining. Most of the boys were in the back corner of the garden near the crup kennels; Regulus headed in that direction.
Sirius, on the other hand, immediately spotted his favourite cousin, Andromeda, sitting on a garden bench in the shade of the west wall, the others girls clustered about her on other benches or on the lawn. Unfortunately, Lucius Malfoy, sat on the same garden bench as Andromeda. Something about that felt wrong to Sirius, and he found himself heading toward them.
Andromeda was turned slightly away from Malfoy and talking with one of the Davis sisters. She looked up with a smile at Sirius’s approach and greeted him.
“Are you eleven yet, Sirius?” one of the other girls asked.
“Next month.”
“Are you going to Hogwarts this year, or do you have to wait another year?”
“This year. I got my letter, and my tutor says I’m ready.”
“Maurice had to wait an extra year before he went,” Doris Goyle said. “He wasn’t too young, just stupid. That’s why he didn’t do his hunt until he was seventeen. He turned sixteen before he took his O.W.L.S, and our parents wanted him to take them before he did his hunt.”
“That makes sense,” Ermina Davis said. “Werewolves are very dangerous. It wouldn’t have been right to let him face one before he’d finished at least fifth year.”
Bellatrix laughed. “Yes, a very dangerous werewolf. Go on, Doris, tell them how your parents helped.”
“Bella! I told you that in confidence.”
Bellatrix ignored her friend and explained, “They kidnapped a werewolf the week before the full moon, chained him in the cellar, and waited for the full moon to let Maurice kill him. Not much challenge to kill a chained werewolf, is there?”
“The point is, he killed it,” Narcissa said. “I don’t think it matters how.”
“I do,” Sirius said. “The entire purpose of the hunt is to test yourself against a foe that could kill you. If you don’t have the bravery for a fair fight or the skill to survive, you don’t deserve to succeed.”
“I’d like to hear you say that when it’s your turn, Black,” Malfoy said.
* * * * *
December 1973
“I can’t believe you own green dress robes,” James said as he buttoned the deep green robes he was borrowing from Sirius. The Blacks expected their sons-and their sons’ guests-to dress for dinner.
“I can’t believe you’re wearing them. I never do.”
“Never?” James asked with a disbelieving smirk as he checked his hair in the mirror and fluffed up the spiky mess.
“Once,” Sirius admitted, “two Christmases ago, to show my grandmother what a grateful child I was. Then they got stuffed in the back of the wardrobe and forgotten. And now, they’re too short for me.” He put an arm around James’s shoulder to emphasize that he was a few inches taller and smiled at their combined reflection in the mirror. “And just right for you, Shorty.”
James decided to ignore the comment on his height and focus on the colour of the robes instead. “In honour of the season, I’ve decided to consider it Christmas green instead of Slytherin green. I feel a bit like Father Christmas after doing our shopping this afternoon.”
The shopping trip to Diagon Alley had been James’s reason for coming to London today. As the Potters were an old and respected pureblood family, the Blacks tolerated Sirius’s friendship with James-as much as they could tolerate his being friends with anyone in Gryffindor-and had permitted the two teenagers to meet for the shopping expedition.
Turning away from James, Sirius looked at the clock and judged that they could wait just one more minute before going downstairs for dinner. He didn’t want to keep his parents waiting when he had a guest they might blame for his tardiness. “You know you could have gone home instead of having dinner here at the madhouse,” he pointed out--again--to James.
“Having dinner with your parents occasionally is a small price to pay for them to like me, and I need them to like me so they’ll let you visit me during breaks. Besides, if you can put up with them day after day, I think I can handle a couple times a year.”
“Just don’t blame me for anything they say.”
“I never do.”
Regulus was already in the dining room when James and Sirius arrived, but refrained from commenting as they could hear Mr. and Mrs. Black approaching. Sirius’s father gave his elder son an approving nod in recognition of their punctuality. Sirius had to suppress a smile when James pulled out his mother’s chair for her. He made a mental note to tease James later about “sucking up to the old bat,” but he was grateful that James did know how to play the game.
After small talk about the boys’ foray into Diagon Alley--Sirius omitted mention of the gifts he’d purchased for Remus and Peter as they were not “approved” friends--Sirius’s father suddenly asked, “Have you turned sixteen yet, James?”
“No, Sir. My birthday is in the summer, just before Sirius’s.”
“Really? And Sirius tells us that you get excellent grades. I assume that holds true for Defence Against the Dark Arts?”
“Yes, Sir.” James saw by the worried expression on Sirius’s face that they were entering a minefield, but he didn’t know where the mines lay to avoid them.
“Excellent, then you should be able to handle a challenging creature for your hunt. With your birthdays so close together, perhaps you and Sirius would like to hunt together.”
“Hunt?” James could only imagine Muggle ways of hunting, but he couldn’t imagine that was what Mr. Black was discussing.
“The Potters don’t do that, Father,” Sirius said.
“No?” Mr. Black asked frostily. “You weren’t planning on a hunt for your coming of age, James?”
James shook his head. “No, Sir.”
Mr. Black frowned. “It’s shameful the way some pureblood families allow our traditions to die out.”
“It’s a clear indication of whether or not a family has pride in its heritage,” Mrs. Black added.
“Many wizard families don’t do it anymore,” Sirius said. “It’s archaic, if you ask me.”
“We didn’t ask you,” his mother said. An uncomfortable silence settled over the table until Mr. and Mrs. Black began discussing a matter currently before the Wizengamot.
After being dismissed from the table, Sirius and James gratefully escaped up the stairs. However, Regulus was just behind them. “Maybe Sirius should hunt a dragon like Cassius Malfoy did,” Regulus said with a smirk.
“Good idea,” Sirius said. “I’ll poison it by feeding it you.”
James stared at Sirius with wide eyes. “A dragon? Your parents want you to hunt a dragon?”
“Not really,” Regulus said. “Father says dragons are too useful and too rare. He doesn’t approve of hunting them. It’ll probably be something like--”
“GO AWAY!” Sirius yelled as he rounded on his little brother. Then he grabbed James by the arm and pulled him down the corridor and into his room. He slammed the door shut behind them. “Madhouse. This is a bloody madhouse.” He sank down on the floor in front of the door.
James sat on the bed. “Explain this hunt thing to me.”
“It’s stupid. It’s one of those things that might have made sense centuries ago, but not anymore. Families like mine keep it going just for tradition’s sake.”
When Sirius paused too long, James urged, “More.”
Sirius sighed. “Once upon a time, wizards considered it their duty to protect their communities from any dangerous magical animals or dark creatures in the area.” Sirius smiled bitterly. “This whole thing started because wizards were protecting Muggles, but the pureblood families who still do it tend to forget that detail. Anyway, when wizard boys were old enough they would accompany the men on hunts for dangerous creatures. It was only when he killed one that he was considered to be a man himself.”
“Thank you, Professor Binns,” James said, “but I had no idea it was still going on. Most people would just leave that sort of thing to professionals in the Ministry.”
“At least it used to serve a purpose. A giant was terrorizing a village. A troll was killing travellers if they crossed a certain bridge. Now it’s just an excuse for a big party when a boy turns sixteen or seventeen. You know that ugly troll foot umbrella stand--my grandfather killed it on his hunt. My father killed a kelpie.”
“It doesn’t sound like you can get out of it.”
Sirius shook his head.
“Then I’ll do it with you,” James said. “Kelpies and trolls aren’t so tough; we’ve tangled with trolls in the Forbidden Forest before, but I’m not letting you face a giant or something without me.”
Sirius closed his eyes and banged his head back against the door. “It’s sick. The whole thing is sick.”
James mentally reviewed the magical beasts and dark creature they had studied in school and began to feel very uneasy. “Sirius, you said ‘dark creatures.’ What sort of-”
With his eyes still closed, Sirius nodded. “As long as the moon is full, it’s legal to kill a werewolf, no questions asked. Just last year, Hugo Davis killed a werewolf. I don’t even know if it was a man, a woman, or a child. Everyone at his party just kept saying, ‘It.’ Remember when I was supposed to come visit you last August, but I was punished and not able to come? That was for calling him a murderer and ‘making a scene’ in front of my parents’ friends.”
“Oh God,” James said quietly. “Even your parents wouldn’t expect you to hunt a werewolf, would they?”
Sirius opened his eyes, but wouldn’t look directly at James. “No, after my little scene at the Davises’, I think they know I’d never. But how can I hunt any of the others either? Can you imagine what Moony would say about hunting kelpies? ‘Yes, they’re dangerous, but they only hunt to eat. And once you get a halter on one, it’s completely harmless. You wouldn’t harm a helpless kelpie, would you?’”
“You’re right. And giants live in remote areas where they can’t hurt anyone, and most vampires leave their victims relatively unharmed, just a bit woozy. Is there anything left that’s dangerous enough to count, and you wouldn’t feel guilty?”
“Lethifolds.”
“Well that’s bloody useful. No one knows how to kill one of them.”
* * * * *
January 1974
“Wake up,” Sirius hissed into James’s ear. He shoved against James’s arm. “Wake up, James.”
James blinked several times, squinting to bring Sirius into focus, a losing battle without his glasses. “It’s dark; what time is it?” James whispered, trying not to awaken their other dorm mates.
“I don’t know. I couldn’t sleep-”
“So you woke me up? Ta, Sirius, ever so.” James closed his eyes and tried to roll onto his side.
“Listen to me,” Sirius said fiercely as he pinned James’s shoulders back against the mattress and leaned over him.
“If you kiss me, you’re getting a knee in the balls. You know that, don’t you?”
“Can I come live with you? Do you think your parents would let me?”
“Oh Sirius, this is so sudden,” James said with a fake sniff and a fluttering of his eyelashes. “But shouldn’t we get married instead of living in sin? Think of the children.”
“This is why Evans hates you. Can’t you be serious, ever?’
“It’s middle-of-the-night-bloody-thirty, you woke me out of a sound sleep, and you expect me to be serious. Right. What is it?”
Sirius released James and sat back on his heels. “I can’t go home this summer. My parents expect me to do that damned hunt, and I won’t. I’m not doing it. I won’t kill something or someone just for the sake of a stupid tradition. My parents expect me to be a good little pureblood and hate everyone they hate, and I won’t. My parents expect me to kiss the arse of everyone they deem worthy by virtue of generations of inbreeding and huge bank vaults, and I won’t.”
“Except for me.”
“They don’t deem you worthy. You’re a pathetic waste of a respectable pedigree.”
“Yes!” James exclaimed quietly with a quick punch into the air.
“So, I can’t go home. I can stay at school for holidays, but I need somewhere to go this summer. Do you think your parents will let me stay with you?”
James closed his eyes and sighed. “We have months until then. You couldn’t wait until morning to ask me?”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“You are so pathetic. Tomorrow, I’ll write to them and ask.”
“O.K.,” Sirius said quietly and he began to move off the bed.
“I’m sure they’ll say, ‘Yes.’ Go to sleep, Sirius.”
* * * * *
March 1976
“No, you have to add the crushed lizard bones before the murtlap tentacles or the end result will be too acidic,” Sirius pointed out as he checked over Remus’s assignment for potions.
“Actually, the problem isn’t the end result’s acidity,” Sirius heard Snape’s sneering voice behind them. “The murtlap’s acidity will harm the previous ingredients’ efficacy unless the potion is made more alkaline before their addition. The lizard bones accomplish this.”
“When we want your help, Snivellus, we’ll ask,” Sirius said angrily. “Why don’t you hold your breath until we do.”
“Tempting idea,” Snape said as he took a seat at the opposite side of the library table. “Then I wouldn’t be subjected to the stench of your sweat. Hasn’t it ever occurred to you to shower after Quidditch practice?”
“I’m not on the Quidditch team anymore, thanks to you.”
“Oh, then you must be cultivating that body odour because your lupine friend finds musky scents alluring.”
Sirius was halfway out of his seat when Remus grabbed the back of his robes and held him back. “Perhaps you should learn how to bathe before you attempt this particular line of insults, Snape,” Remus said. “Is there something you wanted, or were you just in the mood to bicker with Sirius?”
“I just wanted to show you both the gift I’m giving Regulus for his birthday. You did remember that his sixteenth birthday is this week, didn’t you, Black?”
Sirius didn’t reply. He did allow Remus to pull him back down into his seat.
“I understand that he will be doing his hunt this summer, and I thought he might find this useful.” Snape lifted a black-hilted and black-scabbarded knife into view and slowly drew the blade free of the scabbard. Any doubts Sirius may have had that the gleaming blade was silver were dispelled by the way Remus instinctively flinched away.
“You sick bastard,” Sirius growled. Only the fact that Snape still had the knife drawn and that it was far too close to Remus kept Sirius from launching himself across the table at the Slytherin.
“The workmanship is excellent. Wonderful balance. Pure sterling silver blade. They had several with serpent designs or green enamel on the hilts, but simple black suits Regulus, don’t you think?” Snape sheathed the knife as he stood. “I do hope he enjoys his gift. I know I’m glad I have mine.”
Remus’s hand was still clutching the back of Sirius’s robes and preventing Sirius from rising and going after their tormentor. “It’s O.K., Moony. I won’t go after him,” Sirius assured the other teenager when the dark figure disappeared from sight. Not right now, at least, he amended silently.
Remus didn’t let go. “What hunt?”
Sirius looked back at Remus and saw something he was not expecting. Remus was frightened.
Three days later, Regulus’s birthday, Sirius found himself watching for his brother’s arrival at the Slytherin table for breakfast. Sirius had arranged with a house elf to deliver his birthday gift during the night. Now he waited to see if Regulus would acknowledge receiving the book--or possibly throw it in his face.
Regulus entered the Great Hall with friends and avoided looking toward the Gryffindor table as he entered. Sirius’s heart sank. He knew that their parents had forbidden Regulus to have any contact with him and that Regulus was choosing to obey them. But still, Sirius hoped he wouldn’t lose his brother completely. He was vaguely aware that Remus was talking to him, trying to distract him from the snub. He looked down at his bowl and made a pretence of stirring his porridge. When he looked up again, he saw that Regulus had chosen to sit facing him. Regulus held his gaze and seemed to smile at him before turning away to talk to the boy beside him.
The sight of Snape coming up behind Regulus and placing a box, the right size and shape to contain the silver dagger, in front of Regulus, tempered any relief Sirius felt. When Regulus turned back to thank the older boy, Snape leaned down and began to whisper in Regulus’s ear. As he listened, Regulus turned back and stared Sirius--and at Remus.
* * * * *
June 1976
As much as Sirius wanted to become an auror, he rather hated that he’d finished school only to find himself in another school. He judged that half of what they were learning now was useful, the other half was either pointless or common sense. He put down the textbook of poisons and antidotes--most of it he’d learned through browsing in his parents’ library years ago--and headed into the kitchen to brew tea and contemplate supper. A glance at the clock confirmed that Remus would soon be waking up.
The only job Remus had been able to find after school was working the nightshift at a Muggle warehouse. They would have a couple of hours together before Remus had to leave for work. Fortunately, Remus was just as happy to have curry or pasta for breakfast as Sirius was to have eggs and toast for supper, so if Sirius could make it home in time, they tried to eat together before Remus left for work.
A knock at the door forestalled any decisions on tonight’s menu. The number of people who tended to drop by their flat was limited, and the person Sirius saw when he opened the door was definitely not on that list.
“What are you doing here?” Sirius asked in surprise.
“You could try, ‘Hello, Regulus. How nice of you to stop by. Won’t you come in?’”
Sirius hesitated. One of the wards at the door was designed to keep people out unless they were invited in. In theory, Regulus couldn’t enter the flat unless Sirius invited him. Sirius wanted to invite him in, he wanted to talk to him, but he wasn’t sure he dared to allow Regulus in. Regulus was sixteen this summer; he was supposed to do his hunt this summer. Sirius thought of the silver dagger Snape had given Regulus for his hunt, and he had always wondered if it had merely been half of his present. Had Snape also given Regulus the name of a werewolf he could hunt?
Remus was asleep in the bedroom. A silver dagger was probably in his brother’s pocket. Their parents would be overbearingly pleased with their younger son if he accomplished his hunt and punished his rebellious brother by killing his male half-blood lover. Sirius couldn’t invite his brother in.
“I need to talk to you,” Regulus said. “You know I couldn’t talk to you at school. Too many people were watching. Can’t I come in?”
Sirius shook his head. “Let me get--”
“Sirius?” called Remus from the bedroom, cutting off Sirius’s offer to get his shoes and go somewhere else with Regulus. Sirius looked toward Remus’s voice for a moment. When he turned back to his brother, Regulus looked angry. The hard line of his mouth and the slight narrowing of his eyes gave him a strong resemblance to their father when he was most angry.
“Forget it. Your poof lover’s ready for another go. Don’t want to keep him waiting--not for someone as unimportant as your brother.” Regulus turned on his heel and headed for the stairs.
“Just wait a minute,” Sirius called after him. “I’ll come with you.”
Regulus kept walking. Sirius saw one shoe in front of the sofa and grabbed it while looking around for the other. “Where are you--where are you--where are you--forget it!” He dropped the shoe and called, “I’ll be right back,” to Remus. Barefoot, he ran into the corridor, down the stairs, and out the front door of the building. He looked down the sidewalk as far as he could see in both directions, but Regulus was already out of sight or had disapparated away. “Damn.”
As the summer stretched on, Sirius heard numerous rumours about the subject of Regulus’s hunt. He heard that Regulus had gone to Scotland and killed a kelpie, that he had gone to Norway and killed the same dragon who had once killed Cassius Malfoy, that he had gone to Romania and killed an entire werewolf pack. Each story contradicted the previous one, each was more elaborate, and none of them was from a reliable source.
Then, on a Wednesday in early August, Sirius received news he did believe. Below the fold on the front page of the Daily Prophet was the headline, “Black Patriarch Orion Black Dead at Age 43.” The article went on to say that although no cause of death was apparent at this time, that his widow noted that he had been experimenting with a new potion earlier in the day. Sirius knew immediately that she had poisoned him and was covering her tracks; his father would never have tested an experimental potion on himself. The biggest mystery was her motive. The marriage had been loveless, a business transaction, but its very lack of passion had left her without any reason to hate him enough to want him dead.
The article also went on to name Sirius as presumptive heir of the family title and estate, so obviously its source was not well placed.
Although Regulus had returned all of Sirius’s letters unopened since the day Sirius refused to return home and had instead gone to the Potters’, Sirius decided to try writing to his brother again. Perhaps it would slip through in the wave of messages of condolence certain to be en route, or perhaps Regulus would feel free to resume communication with his brother now that their father was no longer alive to forbid it.
Regulus’s response was both prompt and brief, “The Thirsty Murtlap, Canterbury, tomorrow at 2.”
The Murtlap was wizarding Canterbury’s answer to the Leaky Cauldron, but at two in the afternoon on a weekday, it was sparsely populated. Even so, at Sirius’s arrival, the innkeeper quickly escorted him to a private room where he found Regulus already waiting.
“I don’t have long,” Regulus said. “I’m supposed to meet mother at the caterer’s in an hour.”
Sirius decided that he didn’t have time for subtlety. “Did she do it?” Sirius asked.
Regulus gave him a withering look, but given that it was just a pale imitation of their mother’s glare, Sirius simply slouched in a chair and waited for a response.
Regulus then sighed and took the other chair by the tea table and began to pour out. “They’d been fighting a lot lately.”
“About?”
“My hunt, mostly. Mother said that since I was now the only son she had left, that it couldn’t be anything too dangerous. Father said that was precisely why it had to ‘impressive,’ to show that I was nothing like you.”
Sirius snorted. “Prove that you aren’t like your Gryffindor brother by doing something brave and reckless-that makes sense.”
Regulus smirked, “Perhaps he didn’t think that through enough,” but his smile faded almost instantly. “It’s irrelevant now. Mother says that now that I’m the head of the family, I’ll be treated as a de facto adult, so a hunt isn’t necessary.”
“She’s probably right,” Sirius conceded. “Do you want to do it anyway?”
Regulus shook his head.
“Good.” Sirius leaned forward to put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “If you miss him, you do have my sympathies, but as for me...”
“I know.” Regulus gave him a ghost of a smile back.
* * * * *
April 1980
Sirius smiled as he watched the toy Hogwarts Express circle the track in the display window of The Charmed Child Toy Store. In the centre of the track, a china doll and a teddy bear were pretending to drink tea from tiny china cups. Sirius found the animated dolls a bit disturbing, but a nearby fuzzy toy griffin seemed like a perfect toy for a future Gryffindor to cuddle. Lily had said, “Enough toys. No more gifts until the baby is born,” but Sirius supposed he could always buy the griffin and save it until the little one arrived.
The shop door opened and Lucius Malfoy stepped out onto the street. He met Sirius’s eye and stopped to face him.
“Are you following me, Black? What would your superiors say if he knew you’d let yourself be seen?”
“Strange place for you to be, Malfoy. I’d heard that you and the ice princess were expecting a child, but I rather thought you’d ignore the brat until it was old enough to begin learning curses.”
Malfoy pulled from his cloak pocket a small white box tied with blue ribbon. He gave it a slight shake and a bell-like jingle was heard. “The baby was born last week. Narcissa ordered a monogrammed silver rattle for him, and as I was coming to Diagon Alley on other business, I decided to collect it.
“We named him Draco,” Lucius added with a cold smile, “after someone who once did me a valuable service.”
Author's Note: Would you believe this very Sirius-centric story actually evolved from the bit about how Lucius chose Draco's name?
My first fanfic in years! Woo-hoo! Now to go finish the multi-chapter one that has some real promise.
Author's Note: I know that wizards and witches legally come of age at seventeen, but let’s assume for the purposes of this story that the traditional age for a particular coming of age rite was younger, and that the traditional age has lingered for this rite.
Rite of Passage
August 1967
Sirius knew he’d reach the doorway to the garden if he kept moving forward. He’d only caught brief glimpses of sunlight pouring in through the French doors-far too many adults in the room for a clear view-but he knew he was moving in the right direction. He paused again as two more black-robed adults crossed his path. He rather thought it was like being lost in a forest of dark trees, enchanted to move and block his path. No, not lost. He knew which way sunlight and escape lay, and he was making progress, even if he did have to detour slightly time and again
Still, a forest of malicious trees would make a great setting for a bedtime story for Regulus tonight. If he told it right, he could give the sniveling crybaby nightmares; serve him right that he got to stay home while Sirius had to come to this stupid funeral for a teenager he barely knew. He got to stay home just because he was only six.
Sirius just had to keep from being noticed before he did escape. If his mother, father, or grandmother spotted him trying to get out, he’d be trapped by their sides for the rest of afternoon. If he just kept quiet, and didn’t bump into anyone, no adult would bother to speak to him. And if no one spoke to him, his parents wouldn’t know where in the room he was. He just had to pretend to be invisible and in a way, he would be.
The adults’ conversations were all around him, one voice picking up as another fell behind.
“Why the Board tolerates a fool like Dippet, I’ll never…”
“…Ministry another knut of my money. They keep wasting it on Muggle protection and…”
“…negligence and incompetence. A nesting female dragon? That’s sheer suicide.”
Sirius’s ears picked up at this conversation, as they did at all conversations pertaining to the manner of Cassius Malfoy’s death. Sirius hadn’t known Cassius well enough to feel any sense of loss. Instead, he felt only a fascinated awe that someone he knew, even vaguely, had been killed by a dragon. He continued toward the sunlight but did slow slightly to hear more.
“If the guide had surivived, I’m certain the Malfoys would make him wish he hadn’t.” A few people laughed quietly at this.
“And they’d be right,” a woman added. “Pure incompetence. He was supposed to lead the boy to a juvenile dragon.”
“I suppose she was the best he could do. It’s difficult to find any unprotected dragons now that most of them are on dragon preserves.”
“Oh, this dragon was on a preserve. Anything can be had for a price.”
“And the Malfoys could afford the price.”
Sirius had continued to make his quiet way toward the French doors through all this, and when a group of five adults split apart to move in separate directions, Sirius’s way was suddenly clear. He’d reached the outer edge of the enchanted dark forest, and the sunlit clearing beckoned. Sirius walked toward the door-not daring to call attention to himself by running--certain that his mother would screech his name at any moment. The door was already ajar, and Sirius held his breath as he slipped through. Freedom.
But he wasn’t alone.
An older boy with pale blond hair, the Malfoy’s other son, Lucius, was sitting upon the low wall that separated the patio from the smooth green lawn sloping down to a pond. The boy started slightly at the sound of Sirius’s step on the flagstone patio, but when he saw that it was only Sirius and not an adult, he returned to staring out at the pond and the wood both artfully designed to provide scenic views from the house.
Sirius took the dismissive glance he’d been given as tacit permission to come out onto the patio and share the silence. Lucius switched his wand like a scythe and, with a severing charm, beheaded several tall flowers growing in front of the wall. The movement and the sound drew Sirius’s eye to Lucius’s wand, a tangible reminder that Lucius was his elder by several years.
Since Lucius was his elder, Sirius knew he should wait until he was addressed. On the other hand, Lucius’s brother had just died, and Sirius had come here with his parents to offer his condolences to the Malfoys.
Sirius squared his shoulders and recited the formal words his mother had instructed him to say. “May I offer my condolences for your tragic loss.”
Lucius nodded in recognition of the words and put his wand back into his pocket.
“Look, it’s dead boring in there--no pun intended. Want to go for a walk down to the pond?” Lucius asked. “I have to go back inside soon or my father will notice, but--”
“All right.” Sirius hoped he didn’t sound too eager to escape.
A path of grey pebbles led in a graceful curving path toward the pond and then encircled it. Sirius followed a half step behind the older boy and looked in the shallows at the edge of the pond. He wondered if any frogs or fish lived in there. If he did see a frog, he’d be sorely tempted to catch it and bring it home as a trophy to show Regulus; however, he knew his parents would be furious if he went frog-catching at a funeral and got his dress robes wet or muddy.
“A grindlylow,” Lucius said as he suddenly pointed to ripples on the pond’s surface. “Did you see?”
“No, missed it.”
It struck Sirius that Lucius and Cassius had probably spent many hours together at this pond: wading in the shallows, trying to catch Grindlylows, splashing and dunking one another, all the things he would do with his own brother if they had a pond like this near their house. Suddenly, Cassius was a real person to him; he was the brother of the boy beside him. Sirius felt a sick emptiness inside when he tried to imagine how he’d feel if his brother died. Regulus could be a pain in the arse--little brothers were supposed to be--but it was good to know he was there too.
He looked up at Lucius and thought about what he must be feeling as he faced life without his only brother. Now Sirius understood why his mother had said they had an obligation to come to this funeral. He realized that this much sorrow needed to be shared.
“Lucius, what I said before, I really am sorry that your brother died.”
Lucius looked down at Sirius and a slight smile quirked up one corner of his mouth. “That’s because you were born the eldest son.”
* * * * *
July 1969
Sirius had learned that enduring the receiving line at parties like this, congratulating the often spotty-faced teenager who is suddenly, miraculously a man--Sirius almost snorted at that idea--and thanking the teenager’s parents, their hosts, is the just the price he must pay for eating as much cake as he wants and for enjoying a few hours with other children with limited supervision by his parents. Regulus fidgeted beside him, balancing on one foot and falling into their mother’s side. She glared down at them, and Sirius stood stock still so she’d see that it was only Regulus who was misbehaving.
At last it was their turn. Maurice Goyle, spotty and overweight, and his parents, a horsy-faced witch and a trollish wizard, greeted Sirius’s parents and shook their hands. Sirius then shook each hand in turn and repeated the lines he’d been instructed to say. He heard Regulus behind him parroting the same words of congratulations. Sirius glanced at the table beside Maurice as he waited for his brother. An animal pelt of coarse grey fur lay there on display. Sirius surreptitiously stroked the long fur of the werewolf’s tail before being steered away by his father’s firm hand on his shoulder.
The necessary formalities fulfilled, Sirius and Regulus were permitted to escape into the garden with the other children attending the party: their Black cousins, distant cousins, children of other pureblood families. Although the garden was larger than the one at Grimmauld Place, the high walls made it seem just as confining. Most of the boys were in the back corner of the garden near the crup kennels; Regulus headed in that direction.
Sirius, on the other hand, immediately spotted his favourite cousin, Andromeda, sitting on a garden bench in the shade of the west wall, the others girls clustered about her on other benches or on the lawn. Unfortunately, Lucius Malfoy, sat on the same garden bench as Andromeda. Something about that felt wrong to Sirius, and he found himself heading toward them.
Andromeda was turned slightly away from Malfoy and talking with one of the Davis sisters. She looked up with a smile at Sirius’s approach and greeted him.
“Are you eleven yet, Sirius?” one of the other girls asked.
“Next month.”
“Are you going to Hogwarts this year, or do you have to wait another year?”
“This year. I got my letter, and my tutor says I’m ready.”
“Maurice had to wait an extra year before he went,” Doris Goyle said. “He wasn’t too young, just stupid. That’s why he didn’t do his hunt until he was seventeen. He turned sixteen before he took his O.W.L.S, and our parents wanted him to take them before he did his hunt.”
“That makes sense,” Ermina Davis said. “Werewolves are very dangerous. It wouldn’t have been right to let him face one before he’d finished at least fifth year.”
Bellatrix laughed. “Yes, a very dangerous werewolf. Go on, Doris, tell them how your parents helped.”
“Bella! I told you that in confidence.”
Bellatrix ignored her friend and explained, “They kidnapped a werewolf the week before the full moon, chained him in the cellar, and waited for the full moon to let Maurice kill him. Not much challenge to kill a chained werewolf, is there?”
“The point is, he killed it,” Narcissa said. “I don’t think it matters how.”
“I do,” Sirius said. “The entire purpose of the hunt is to test yourself against a foe that could kill you. If you don’t have the bravery for a fair fight or the skill to survive, you don’t deserve to succeed.”
“I’d like to hear you say that when it’s your turn, Black,” Malfoy said.
* * * * *
December 1973
“I can’t believe you own green dress robes,” James said as he buttoned the deep green robes he was borrowing from Sirius. The Blacks expected their sons-and their sons’ guests-to dress for dinner.
“I can’t believe you’re wearing them. I never do.”
“Never?” James asked with a disbelieving smirk as he checked his hair in the mirror and fluffed up the spiky mess.
“Once,” Sirius admitted, “two Christmases ago, to show my grandmother what a grateful child I was. Then they got stuffed in the back of the wardrobe and forgotten. And now, they’re too short for me.” He put an arm around James’s shoulder to emphasize that he was a few inches taller and smiled at their combined reflection in the mirror. “And just right for you, Shorty.”
James decided to ignore the comment on his height and focus on the colour of the robes instead. “In honour of the season, I’ve decided to consider it Christmas green instead of Slytherin green. I feel a bit like Father Christmas after doing our shopping this afternoon.”
The shopping trip to Diagon Alley had been James’s reason for coming to London today. As the Potters were an old and respected pureblood family, the Blacks tolerated Sirius’s friendship with James-as much as they could tolerate his being friends with anyone in Gryffindor-and had permitted the two teenagers to meet for the shopping expedition.
Turning away from James, Sirius looked at the clock and judged that they could wait just one more minute before going downstairs for dinner. He didn’t want to keep his parents waiting when he had a guest they might blame for his tardiness. “You know you could have gone home instead of having dinner here at the madhouse,” he pointed out--again--to James.
“Having dinner with your parents occasionally is a small price to pay for them to like me, and I need them to like me so they’ll let you visit me during breaks. Besides, if you can put up with them day after day, I think I can handle a couple times a year.”
“Just don’t blame me for anything they say.”
“I never do.”
Regulus was already in the dining room when James and Sirius arrived, but refrained from commenting as they could hear Mr. and Mrs. Black approaching. Sirius’s father gave his elder son an approving nod in recognition of their punctuality. Sirius had to suppress a smile when James pulled out his mother’s chair for her. He made a mental note to tease James later about “sucking up to the old bat,” but he was grateful that James did know how to play the game.
After small talk about the boys’ foray into Diagon Alley--Sirius omitted mention of the gifts he’d purchased for Remus and Peter as they were not “approved” friends--Sirius’s father suddenly asked, “Have you turned sixteen yet, James?”
“No, Sir. My birthday is in the summer, just before Sirius’s.”
“Really? And Sirius tells us that you get excellent grades. I assume that holds true for Defence Against the Dark Arts?”
“Yes, Sir.” James saw by the worried expression on Sirius’s face that they were entering a minefield, but he didn’t know where the mines lay to avoid them.
“Excellent, then you should be able to handle a challenging creature for your hunt. With your birthdays so close together, perhaps you and Sirius would like to hunt together.”
“Hunt?” James could only imagine Muggle ways of hunting, but he couldn’t imagine that was what Mr. Black was discussing.
“The Potters don’t do that, Father,” Sirius said.
“No?” Mr. Black asked frostily. “You weren’t planning on a hunt for your coming of age, James?”
James shook his head. “No, Sir.”
Mr. Black frowned. “It’s shameful the way some pureblood families allow our traditions to die out.”
“It’s a clear indication of whether or not a family has pride in its heritage,” Mrs. Black added.
“Many wizard families don’t do it anymore,” Sirius said. “It’s archaic, if you ask me.”
“We didn’t ask you,” his mother said. An uncomfortable silence settled over the table until Mr. and Mrs. Black began discussing a matter currently before the Wizengamot.
After being dismissed from the table, Sirius and James gratefully escaped up the stairs. However, Regulus was just behind them. “Maybe Sirius should hunt a dragon like Cassius Malfoy did,” Regulus said with a smirk.
“Good idea,” Sirius said. “I’ll poison it by feeding it you.”
James stared at Sirius with wide eyes. “A dragon? Your parents want you to hunt a dragon?”
“Not really,” Regulus said. “Father says dragons are too useful and too rare. He doesn’t approve of hunting them. It’ll probably be something like--”
“GO AWAY!” Sirius yelled as he rounded on his little brother. Then he grabbed James by the arm and pulled him down the corridor and into his room. He slammed the door shut behind them. “Madhouse. This is a bloody madhouse.” He sank down on the floor in front of the door.
James sat on the bed. “Explain this hunt thing to me.”
“It’s stupid. It’s one of those things that might have made sense centuries ago, but not anymore. Families like mine keep it going just for tradition’s sake.”
When Sirius paused too long, James urged, “More.”
Sirius sighed. “Once upon a time, wizards considered it their duty to protect their communities from any dangerous magical animals or dark creatures in the area.” Sirius smiled bitterly. “This whole thing started because wizards were protecting Muggles, but the pureblood families who still do it tend to forget that detail. Anyway, when wizard boys were old enough they would accompany the men on hunts for dangerous creatures. It was only when he killed one that he was considered to be a man himself.”
“Thank you, Professor Binns,” James said, “but I had no idea it was still going on. Most people would just leave that sort of thing to professionals in the Ministry.”
“At least it used to serve a purpose. A giant was terrorizing a village. A troll was killing travellers if they crossed a certain bridge. Now it’s just an excuse for a big party when a boy turns sixteen or seventeen. You know that ugly troll foot umbrella stand--my grandfather killed it on his hunt. My father killed a kelpie.”
“It doesn’t sound like you can get out of it.”
Sirius shook his head.
“Then I’ll do it with you,” James said. “Kelpies and trolls aren’t so tough; we’ve tangled with trolls in the Forbidden Forest before, but I’m not letting you face a giant or something without me.”
Sirius closed his eyes and banged his head back against the door. “It’s sick. The whole thing is sick.”
James mentally reviewed the magical beasts and dark creature they had studied in school and began to feel very uneasy. “Sirius, you said ‘dark creatures.’ What sort of-”
With his eyes still closed, Sirius nodded. “As long as the moon is full, it’s legal to kill a werewolf, no questions asked. Just last year, Hugo Davis killed a werewolf. I don’t even know if it was a man, a woman, or a child. Everyone at his party just kept saying, ‘It.’ Remember when I was supposed to come visit you last August, but I was punished and not able to come? That was for calling him a murderer and ‘making a scene’ in front of my parents’ friends.”
“Oh God,” James said quietly. “Even your parents wouldn’t expect you to hunt a werewolf, would they?”
Sirius opened his eyes, but wouldn’t look directly at James. “No, after my little scene at the Davises’, I think they know I’d never. But how can I hunt any of the others either? Can you imagine what Moony would say about hunting kelpies? ‘Yes, they’re dangerous, but they only hunt to eat. And once you get a halter on one, it’s completely harmless. You wouldn’t harm a helpless kelpie, would you?’”
“You’re right. And giants live in remote areas where they can’t hurt anyone, and most vampires leave their victims relatively unharmed, just a bit woozy. Is there anything left that’s dangerous enough to count, and you wouldn’t feel guilty?”
“Lethifolds.”
“Well that’s bloody useful. No one knows how to kill one of them.”
* * * * *
January 1974
“Wake up,” Sirius hissed into James’s ear. He shoved against James’s arm. “Wake up, James.”
James blinked several times, squinting to bring Sirius into focus, a losing battle without his glasses. “It’s dark; what time is it?” James whispered, trying not to awaken their other dorm mates.
“I don’t know. I couldn’t sleep-”
“So you woke me up? Ta, Sirius, ever so.” James closed his eyes and tried to roll onto his side.
“Listen to me,” Sirius said fiercely as he pinned James’s shoulders back against the mattress and leaned over him.
“If you kiss me, you’re getting a knee in the balls. You know that, don’t you?”
“Can I come live with you? Do you think your parents would let me?”
“Oh Sirius, this is so sudden,” James said with a fake sniff and a fluttering of his eyelashes. “But shouldn’t we get married instead of living in sin? Think of the children.”
“This is why Evans hates you. Can’t you be serious, ever?’
“It’s middle-of-the-night-bloody-thirty, you woke me out of a sound sleep, and you expect me to be serious. Right. What is it?”
Sirius released James and sat back on his heels. “I can’t go home this summer. My parents expect me to do that damned hunt, and I won’t. I’m not doing it. I won’t kill something or someone just for the sake of a stupid tradition. My parents expect me to be a good little pureblood and hate everyone they hate, and I won’t. My parents expect me to kiss the arse of everyone they deem worthy by virtue of generations of inbreeding and huge bank vaults, and I won’t.”
“Except for me.”
“They don’t deem you worthy. You’re a pathetic waste of a respectable pedigree.”
“Yes!” James exclaimed quietly with a quick punch into the air.
“So, I can’t go home. I can stay at school for holidays, but I need somewhere to go this summer. Do you think your parents will let me stay with you?”
James closed his eyes and sighed. “We have months until then. You couldn’t wait until morning to ask me?”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“You are so pathetic. Tomorrow, I’ll write to them and ask.”
“O.K.,” Sirius said quietly and he began to move off the bed.
“I’m sure they’ll say, ‘Yes.’ Go to sleep, Sirius.”
* * * * *
March 1976
“No, you have to add the crushed lizard bones before the murtlap tentacles or the end result will be too acidic,” Sirius pointed out as he checked over Remus’s assignment for potions.
“Actually, the problem isn’t the end result’s acidity,” Sirius heard Snape’s sneering voice behind them. “The murtlap’s acidity will harm the previous ingredients’ efficacy unless the potion is made more alkaline before their addition. The lizard bones accomplish this.”
“When we want your help, Snivellus, we’ll ask,” Sirius said angrily. “Why don’t you hold your breath until we do.”
“Tempting idea,” Snape said as he took a seat at the opposite side of the library table. “Then I wouldn’t be subjected to the stench of your sweat. Hasn’t it ever occurred to you to shower after Quidditch practice?”
“I’m not on the Quidditch team anymore, thanks to you.”
“Oh, then you must be cultivating that body odour because your lupine friend finds musky scents alluring.”
Sirius was halfway out of his seat when Remus grabbed the back of his robes and held him back. “Perhaps you should learn how to bathe before you attempt this particular line of insults, Snape,” Remus said. “Is there something you wanted, or were you just in the mood to bicker with Sirius?”
“I just wanted to show you both the gift I’m giving Regulus for his birthday. You did remember that his sixteenth birthday is this week, didn’t you, Black?”
Sirius didn’t reply. He did allow Remus to pull him back down into his seat.
“I understand that he will be doing his hunt this summer, and I thought he might find this useful.” Snape lifted a black-hilted and black-scabbarded knife into view and slowly drew the blade free of the scabbard. Any doubts Sirius may have had that the gleaming blade was silver were dispelled by the way Remus instinctively flinched away.
“You sick bastard,” Sirius growled. Only the fact that Snape still had the knife drawn and that it was far too close to Remus kept Sirius from launching himself across the table at the Slytherin.
“The workmanship is excellent. Wonderful balance. Pure sterling silver blade. They had several with serpent designs or green enamel on the hilts, but simple black suits Regulus, don’t you think?” Snape sheathed the knife as he stood. “I do hope he enjoys his gift. I know I’m glad I have mine.”
Remus’s hand was still clutching the back of Sirius’s robes and preventing Sirius from rising and going after their tormentor. “It’s O.K., Moony. I won’t go after him,” Sirius assured the other teenager when the dark figure disappeared from sight. Not right now, at least, he amended silently.
Remus didn’t let go. “What hunt?”
Sirius looked back at Remus and saw something he was not expecting. Remus was frightened.
Three days later, Regulus’s birthday, Sirius found himself watching for his brother’s arrival at the Slytherin table for breakfast. Sirius had arranged with a house elf to deliver his birthday gift during the night. Now he waited to see if Regulus would acknowledge receiving the book--or possibly throw it in his face.
Regulus entered the Great Hall with friends and avoided looking toward the Gryffindor table as he entered. Sirius’s heart sank. He knew that their parents had forbidden Regulus to have any contact with him and that Regulus was choosing to obey them. But still, Sirius hoped he wouldn’t lose his brother completely. He was vaguely aware that Remus was talking to him, trying to distract him from the snub. He looked down at his bowl and made a pretence of stirring his porridge. When he looked up again, he saw that Regulus had chosen to sit facing him. Regulus held his gaze and seemed to smile at him before turning away to talk to the boy beside him.
The sight of Snape coming up behind Regulus and placing a box, the right size and shape to contain the silver dagger, in front of Regulus, tempered any relief Sirius felt. When Regulus turned back to thank the older boy, Snape leaned down and began to whisper in Regulus’s ear. As he listened, Regulus turned back and stared Sirius--and at Remus.
* * * * *
June 1976
As much as Sirius wanted to become an auror, he rather hated that he’d finished school only to find himself in another school. He judged that half of what they were learning now was useful, the other half was either pointless or common sense. He put down the textbook of poisons and antidotes--most of it he’d learned through browsing in his parents’ library years ago--and headed into the kitchen to brew tea and contemplate supper. A glance at the clock confirmed that Remus would soon be waking up.
The only job Remus had been able to find after school was working the nightshift at a Muggle warehouse. They would have a couple of hours together before Remus had to leave for work. Fortunately, Remus was just as happy to have curry or pasta for breakfast as Sirius was to have eggs and toast for supper, so if Sirius could make it home in time, they tried to eat together before Remus left for work.
A knock at the door forestalled any decisions on tonight’s menu. The number of people who tended to drop by their flat was limited, and the person Sirius saw when he opened the door was definitely not on that list.
“What are you doing here?” Sirius asked in surprise.
“You could try, ‘Hello, Regulus. How nice of you to stop by. Won’t you come in?’”
Sirius hesitated. One of the wards at the door was designed to keep people out unless they were invited in. In theory, Regulus couldn’t enter the flat unless Sirius invited him. Sirius wanted to invite him in, he wanted to talk to him, but he wasn’t sure he dared to allow Regulus in. Regulus was sixteen this summer; he was supposed to do his hunt this summer. Sirius thought of the silver dagger Snape had given Regulus for his hunt, and he had always wondered if it had merely been half of his present. Had Snape also given Regulus the name of a werewolf he could hunt?
Remus was asleep in the bedroom. A silver dagger was probably in his brother’s pocket. Their parents would be overbearingly pleased with their younger son if he accomplished his hunt and punished his rebellious brother by killing his male half-blood lover. Sirius couldn’t invite his brother in.
“I need to talk to you,” Regulus said. “You know I couldn’t talk to you at school. Too many people were watching. Can’t I come in?”
Sirius shook his head. “Let me get--”
“Sirius?” called Remus from the bedroom, cutting off Sirius’s offer to get his shoes and go somewhere else with Regulus. Sirius looked toward Remus’s voice for a moment. When he turned back to his brother, Regulus looked angry. The hard line of his mouth and the slight narrowing of his eyes gave him a strong resemblance to their father when he was most angry.
“Forget it. Your poof lover’s ready for another go. Don’t want to keep him waiting--not for someone as unimportant as your brother.” Regulus turned on his heel and headed for the stairs.
“Just wait a minute,” Sirius called after him. “I’ll come with you.”
Regulus kept walking. Sirius saw one shoe in front of the sofa and grabbed it while looking around for the other. “Where are you--where are you--where are you--forget it!” He dropped the shoe and called, “I’ll be right back,” to Remus. Barefoot, he ran into the corridor, down the stairs, and out the front door of the building. He looked down the sidewalk as far as he could see in both directions, but Regulus was already out of sight or had disapparated away. “Damn.”
As the summer stretched on, Sirius heard numerous rumours about the subject of Regulus’s hunt. He heard that Regulus had gone to Scotland and killed a kelpie, that he had gone to Norway and killed the same dragon who had once killed Cassius Malfoy, that he had gone to Romania and killed an entire werewolf pack. Each story contradicted the previous one, each was more elaborate, and none of them was from a reliable source.
Then, on a Wednesday in early August, Sirius received news he did believe. Below the fold on the front page of the Daily Prophet was the headline, “Black Patriarch Orion Black Dead at Age 43.” The article went on to say that although no cause of death was apparent at this time, that his widow noted that he had been experimenting with a new potion earlier in the day. Sirius knew immediately that she had poisoned him and was covering her tracks; his father would never have tested an experimental potion on himself. The biggest mystery was her motive. The marriage had been loveless, a business transaction, but its very lack of passion had left her without any reason to hate him enough to want him dead.
The article also went on to name Sirius as presumptive heir of the family title and estate, so obviously its source was not well placed.
Although Regulus had returned all of Sirius’s letters unopened since the day Sirius refused to return home and had instead gone to the Potters’, Sirius decided to try writing to his brother again. Perhaps it would slip through in the wave of messages of condolence certain to be en route, or perhaps Regulus would feel free to resume communication with his brother now that their father was no longer alive to forbid it.
Regulus’s response was both prompt and brief, “The Thirsty Murtlap, Canterbury, tomorrow at 2.”
The Murtlap was wizarding Canterbury’s answer to the Leaky Cauldron, but at two in the afternoon on a weekday, it was sparsely populated. Even so, at Sirius’s arrival, the innkeeper quickly escorted him to a private room where he found Regulus already waiting.
“I don’t have long,” Regulus said. “I’m supposed to meet mother at the caterer’s in an hour.”
Sirius decided that he didn’t have time for subtlety. “Did she do it?” Sirius asked.
Regulus gave him a withering look, but given that it was just a pale imitation of their mother’s glare, Sirius simply slouched in a chair and waited for a response.
Regulus then sighed and took the other chair by the tea table and began to pour out. “They’d been fighting a lot lately.”
“About?”
“My hunt, mostly. Mother said that since I was now the only son she had left, that it couldn’t be anything too dangerous. Father said that was precisely why it had to ‘impressive,’ to show that I was nothing like you.”
Sirius snorted. “Prove that you aren’t like your Gryffindor brother by doing something brave and reckless-that makes sense.”
Regulus smirked, “Perhaps he didn’t think that through enough,” but his smile faded almost instantly. “It’s irrelevant now. Mother says that now that I’m the head of the family, I’ll be treated as a de facto adult, so a hunt isn’t necessary.”
“She’s probably right,” Sirius conceded. “Do you want to do it anyway?”
Regulus shook his head.
“Good.” Sirius leaned forward to put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “If you miss him, you do have my sympathies, but as for me...”
“I know.” Regulus gave him a ghost of a smile back.
* * * * *
April 1980
Sirius smiled as he watched the toy Hogwarts Express circle the track in the display window of The Charmed Child Toy Store. In the centre of the track, a china doll and a teddy bear were pretending to drink tea from tiny china cups. Sirius found the animated dolls a bit disturbing, but a nearby fuzzy toy griffin seemed like a perfect toy for a future Gryffindor to cuddle. Lily had said, “Enough toys. No more gifts until the baby is born,” but Sirius supposed he could always buy the griffin and save it until the little one arrived.
The shop door opened and Lucius Malfoy stepped out onto the street. He met Sirius’s eye and stopped to face him.
“Are you following me, Black? What would your superiors say if he knew you’d let yourself be seen?”
“Strange place for you to be, Malfoy. I’d heard that you and the ice princess were expecting a child, but I rather thought you’d ignore the brat until it was old enough to begin learning curses.”
Malfoy pulled from his cloak pocket a small white box tied with blue ribbon. He gave it a slight shake and a bell-like jingle was heard. “The baby was born last week. Narcissa ordered a monogrammed silver rattle for him, and as I was coming to Diagon Alley on other business, I decided to collect it.
“We named him Draco,” Lucius added with a cold smile, “after someone who once did me a valuable service.”
Author's Note: Would you believe this very Sirius-centric story actually evolved from the bit about how Lucius chose Draco's name?
My first fanfic in years! Woo-hoo! Now to go finish the multi-chapter one that has some real promise.