The House Of Black

Morning again. Another day that would inevitably be filled with accusations and threats. Another nightmare. Sirius Black slowly closed his eyes and felt his teeth sink into his lower lip as he looked out of his low bedroom window, watching the sun gradually inch its way higher and higher into the sky. It would be a fine morning, a beautiful summer's day, bright and happy, but totally opposite to what he felt. Black. It was funny, he thought, giving a low, bitter little chuckle, that his surname should suit his thoughts and feelings so well, while his name never had. The brightest star, that was what his name meant. The brightest star. He wondered why his mother had called him that when she had never, ever loved him, never even liked him. Perhaps she had, a long time ago, before she realised that the stubborn little boy would never follow her down the path of dark magic and evil. Before she got a replacement for him in the form of Regelus, who always listened, always did as he was told.

Sirius turned from the window and slumped down onto the bed, his dark hair falling over his eyes as he bent his head and wagged it from side to side. The very thought of spending the day with his mother and brother made him almost physically ill. The pathetic, sad movement made him seem far younger than his fifteen years, but there was nothing childish about him as he stood up, a tall, proud figure with perfectly chiselled features and a look of defiance in his dark eyes. He wouldn't let that old hag take him over like this. He didn't care what she said: he mustn't care, because if he did, if he gave in and listened to her biting comments and sarcasm, if he let her hatred envelop him, she would succeed in destroying him. She meant to break his spirit, to unbend all resistance so that he would be transformed into what Regelus already was: a stupid, whimpering, weak ninny.

He slipped out of the door and into the passage, hoping to avoid any members of the household. His hope was shortlived; Kreacher, the house-elf skulked out of a doorway into the corridor right in front of Sirius. '' Is master going somewhere?'' he asked slyly.

Sirius eyed the elf mistrustfully. "What's it to you?" he snapped. " Or can't you wait to go and tell my beloved mother?"

"What's Kreacher going to tell me that you can't tell me yourself?" a nasty, screeching voice asked, coming from behind him. "Keeping secrets, boy? suppose your riff-raff friends taught you that?"

Sirius felt a sharp jolt in his chest. His friends. How he missed them. James, Remus, even silly little Peter. Their absense weighed heavily on him- outside of Hogwarts he was nearly going mad with a longing to return. He loved his friends more than anything in the world, and he knew he would die for them if the need arose. He hated his mother for reminding him of what already tortured his subconscious mind, and hated her even more for calling them riff-raff. A hot, blinding rage rose up in him and he began to shake, trembling all over, but not saying a word. He wouln't give her the satisfaction of seeing him wild.

"You should have gone to Durmstrang, like Regulus," he could hear her saying, "you should have listened. I'd rather see you dead, you know, than hob-nobbing with that scum. Misfits like the Potters, and as for the Lupins, well..."

" Don't, don't do it," Sirius had been telling himself. "Don't give in. Leave he. Let her talk. Just ignore," but at the words "scum" and "misfits" coupled with the names of his friends, something inside him burst, and his mind screamed "Shut up, you old hag, just shut up, shut up!" To his horror, the words came tumbling out of his mouth in a loud, angry yell, and, snatching his wand from his jacket, he pointed it rigidly at his mother.