Sirius Black and the Golden Lion

The birthday

For many years, Mr. and Mrs. Black had run a household of which any self-respecting witch and wizard would be proud. Both from respectable pure-blood families, they had made a respectable pure-blood marriage, and given birth to two respectable pure-blood sons. Until the fifth birthday of the elder of the two, everything had seemed perfect. But when Mr. Black awoke on that day, he had no idea of what lay in store for him.

"Everybody up!" Mrs. Black shouted up the stairs of their home at number 12 Grimmauld Place. There were two large bangs as two bedroom doors on the next floor were opened, and two small dark-haired boys appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Sirius, Regulus, I want you dressed and down here in two minutes to start the breakfast." Both boys turned sharply and ran back into their rooms. Two minutes later, they appeared at the kitchen door, the younger still yawning sleepily.

"Regulus, stop that. I want you to set the table." The younger boy closed his mouth immediately and walked obediently to the table.

"And Sirius, you can do the toast."

"But it's my birthday," the older boy complained feebly.

"Yes, and you can celebrate that by not burning the bread." The boy gave a small sigh and lifted a loaf of bread off the table. Mrs. Black pointed her wand at the grill, which lit immediately.

"Breakfast ready yet?" asked Mr. Black, striding into the kitchen.

"Nearly," his wife replied, without turning around. "Sirius, have you done that toast yet?" The boy turned around, pushing his black hair out of his eyes.

"Nearly, mother." He brought a loaded plate of toast over to the table and took his seat next to his little brother. His father pushed a package towards him.

"You should find that interesting," he said, helping himself to toast.

Sirius tore the paper off the parcel eagerly. He felt sure it would be a book, he had taught himself to read when he was three, and his parents encouraged him to use their library. But the young boy hadn't taken them up on that- he knew the library was full of books about the dark arts and about muggle-killings, and he didn't like the idea.

He crumpled up the paper and threw it to the floor. He turned the book face-up and read:

"Grindlewald: Misunderstood?" His face fell. "Wasn't he the one who tried to kill all the muggles?"

"Yes. He was defeated by Albus Dumbledore a few years ago, the muggle-loving fool."

"Good," said Sirius emphatically.

"Why say that, son?" Mr. Black asked, his grey eyes flashing dangerously

"Because muggles don't do us any harm, and we shouldn't hurt them," his son replied innocently, unaware of the trouble he was causing. His parents exchanged angry looks.

"Muggles have never done anything good for us, and we should not have to tolerate them!" Mr. Black banged his fist on the table to emphasise his words. Both Sirius and Regulus jumped.

"But they can't help it, they're only muggles," Sirius foolishly tried to reason with his father, whose eyes blazed angrily.

"Muggles are stupid. They can't even do magic," Regulus smirked.

"Neither can you," his brother pointed out reasonably.

"But I will one day, I'm going to be a really powerful wizard, like dad, aren't I mummy?"

"And have the same stupid views," Sirius muttered.

"What was that?" his father demanded, leaping to his feet.

"Nothing," Sirius said quickly.

"Repeat!" Mr. Black demanded, advancing on his five-year-old son, who shrank back into his chair.

"Nothing, sir!" he squeaked.

"Go to your room!" Sirius fled the table.

"You too, Regulus," Mr. Black added, slightly more kindly.

"But dad..."

"Just go!"

The four-year-old reluctantly traced his brother's steps out of the room. Mr. Black turned to his wife.

"What shall we do with him?" she asked

"It may stop now I've shown him that we don't tolerate that sort of rubbish in this house."

"But the boy's obviously a muggle-lover. If we don't stamp on it, he'll be a disgrace to the family name."

"Fine. I'll deal with it. At least young Regulus was showing some proper wizarding pride," he added, as he walked out into the hallway.

"Sirius! Here! Now!" he shouted up the stairs. A door banged, and Sirius' terrified face appeared at the top of the stairs. At a fierce nod from his father, he clattered down them to face him at the bottom. During the following events, Sirius felt strangely detached from the situation. In terrible anticipation, he watched his father remove his belt, and push the young boys head down...