The Chronicles of Sirius Black

The Chronicles of Sirius Black

Prankster and Lover Extraordinaire

Chapter 2

Return to 12 Grimmauld Place

"Boys! Your Hogwarts letters are here!" yelled Mrs. Potter.

A thump was followed by pounding on the stairs. James and Sirius stampeded into the warm kitchen. Mrs. Potter was baking and the room smelled like cinnamon. Torrential summer storms raged outside, and the boys were cooped up indoors.

A waterlogged barn owl sat in the middle of the round oak kitchen table. Beside the owl were two surprisingly dry rolls of parchment. Sirius darted and grabbed them.

"Hey! Give me mine!" James shouted as he lunged at Sirius.

Sirius shoved one of the rolls of parchment at James and then ripped through the Hogwarts seal on his own letter.

Dear Mr. Sirius Black,

We are pleased that you will be returning to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You will find an enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment needed for your Sixth Year.

Term begins September 1.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Sirius frowned. How was he supposed to get his school supplies? Staying with the Potters was convenient, and he didn't have to worry about money. He didn't exactly leave on good terms with his parents, and he seriously doubted they would be helping him buy school supplies. He folded up the letter and shoved it in his pocket. He had a week to figure out how he could get some money.

"Ready for some more Exploding Snap, Prongs?" asked Sirius.

"Yeah, let's go."

The two boys headed upstairs, and James was oblivious to any change in Sirius's mood.

~*~

That night, Sirius lay in bed and gazed out the window. Thick fog hung in the air, and concealed the stars. The moon fought through the haze, and a few murky rays of moonlight seeped through the window. The faded blue light fell across Sirius's troubled face.

He had no money. Not a Galleon, not a Sickle, not a Knut. He had packed only what he needed, nothing of any value. He couldn't pawn off his parchment at the local shop. Or he could but it wouldn't pay for his textbooks.

There wasn't enough time to get a job. The Potters had done enough for him by letting him stay here, and he could never ask them for money.

His eyebrows furrowed, and he looked up at the ceiling. What was he supposed to do? Once again, tears prickled the backs of his eyes and Sirius shut them furiously. He rolled over onto his stomach and fell into a restless sleep.

The floorboards creaked and dust stirred. My large shaggy paws continued to move forward. Darkness hid my massive black form as it headed higher into the house to the attic. In my teeth, I clenched a rough brown sack. The sack was empty.

I emerged into the moonlit attic, and I headed directly to a large antique cabinet. Behind the grimy panes of glass, was an assortment of dark objects.

Within moments, nearly the entire contents of the cabinet were inside my sack. The sack clanked and rattled as I turned to head back where I came. I hurtled down the stairs, past suits of armor, sleeping paintings, gruesome tapestries, and back to the brick fireplace in the kitchen.

Back in human form, I reached for the pot on the mantle and took a pinch of Floo Powder. I tossed it into the fireplace and the flames danced green. I picked up the lumpy brown sack, and with another clank and clatter, stepped into the fireplace.

"I knew I heard something! I knew it! Mistress will not be happy! Oh no she won't!" Kreacher crept closer with an evil glint in his eyes.

"Do you really think I give a boggart's backside about my mum?!?!"

Sirius yelled out in his sleep and woke himself.

He sat up and looked over at James, who remained sound asleep with a pool of drool on his pillow from sleeping with his mouth agape. Sirius smirked and allowed his fists to unclench themselves. The clock read half-past five. The sun would be up in an hour or so, and Sirius's brain was working now.

He hopped gracefully down from the bed. The cold wood felt good on his bare feet. He went to his trunk and pulled from it a plain black t-shirt. He pulled the shirt on as he walked down the hall to the bathroom. After that he would head downstairs to see how much Floo Powder the Potters had.

~*~

The rain from the day before left a cool mist on the Potter's front lawn. But as the sun rose high, the air grew balmy as the summer heat returned. Sirius had plopped himself down in a shady spot under a large silver birch tree. He had his arms crossed behind his head and was once again poring over the list of textbooks he received from Hogwarts.

A door slammed behind him and Mr. Potter dashed from the house. He looked much like James. His hair was always astray, but it was no longer a deep solid black. Rather it was speckled with grey and looked much like fresh ground pepper. His wrinkled dark brown eyes hid behind gold square rimmed spectacles. His maroon robe was flying behind him as he ran past Sirius in the grass.

"Have a good day, Mr. Potter!"

"Oh! My goodness, Sirius!" Mr. Potter lurched and his hands flew above his head. "I thought you were still asleep! Yes. Well, I have to be going. I have a rather urgent pick-up in Cambridge. Good day then."

The Potters were so different from the Blacks. They were more cheerful and less rigid. He had never seen Mr. or Mrs. Potter angry. Sirius smiled to himself as he watched James's father putter off down the street in the family car, and finally turn out of sight.

Sirius sat up and rose from his spot in the lawn. He brushed the bits of grass off his clothes and walked around to the back door to the kitchen.

Mrs. Potter was also awake and dressed. She stood over a warm stove of sizzling bacon, and oranges were magically squeezing themselves into a pitcher on the counter.

"Good morning, Sirius! What can I fix you for breakfast? Eggs? Pancakes?"

Sirius grinned. "Pancakes would be fantastic, Mrs. Potter."

~*~

James and Sirius spent the afternoon outdoors. James found an ant's nest and was using his glasses to light the ants on fire. Meanwhile, Sirius lay on his back in the grass debating whether or not to include James on his mission.

His dream the night before was the answer to his problems. He would go back to Grimmauld Place, steal some valuable old dark objects, and pawn them off somewhere on Diagon Alley. Technically, he wasn't really stealing as he would be taking from his own house. He would merely be ridding the dump of some of its useless knick-knacks. It would be similar to what Muggles called a yard sale.

No. James could not be included. Sirius had two reasons. One, Sirius would have to explain his financial situation. He did not want anymore of James' concern or pity. Reason two, if his parents found out that James had aided in the "robbery" James could actually be prosecuted. This would be and adventure for Padfoot alone.

~*~

That night, Sirius picked at his dinner, but the Potters were too distracted to notice. News of a large strike by Voldemort and the Death Eaters had shaken the wizarding community. A special late edition of The Daily Prophet had arrived halfway through dinner. Mr. and Mrs. Potter ate very little themselves and retreated to cleaning up the kitchen and doing the dishes. Their backs were to the boys and their concerned murmurs had James craning his neck to listen.

"Where did they strike?" Mrs. Potter asked softly.

"A small town on the outskirts of Liverpool," Mr. Potter answered. "The Dark Mark was found over four homes this morning. Three muggle homes and one wizard."

Mrs. Potter gasped and dropped the silverware she was washing in the sink. Mr. Potter wrapped his arms around her and she began to cry into his shoulder.

"That's the eighth attack in the past two weeks. What are we supposed to do?"

As Mrs. Potter cried, Mr. Potter looked over at the two boys at the table. His eyes were sunken behind his square spectacles. He gave the wide-eyed boys a grim smile. He whispered something in Mrs. Potter's ear and guided her out of the kitchen towards the stairs.

"There are éclairs for dessert, boys. Help yourself."

Sirius watched them retreat up the stairs. Mr. Potter supported his wife as sobs shook her from head to toe.

Sirius looked over at James. He was staring at the food on his plate.

"Hey, James. Want t finish the dishes with me?"

"Sure."

~*~

Once again, Sirius lay in bed awake. Dinner had disturbed him. He knew James would have trouble sleeping, so he had forced him to have an éclair and slipped him some sleeping draught. This way he could sneak out unheard.

His wand, shoes, cloak, nd a large burlap sack lay waiting under his bed. When James' breathing grew steady, he gathered his things, and snuck quietly down to the kitchen.

The jar of Floo Powder sat on the mantle above the fireplace. There was a small dying fire, but it would be enough. He took a pinch and sprinkled it on fading flames. A bright green blaze grew in the small hearth, and Sirius stepped in.

He squared his shoulders and announced clearly, "12 Grimmauld Place."

As he said it, his stomach churned slightly out of nerves. He clenched his teeth, closed his eyes, and concentrated on transforming into Padfoot. He no longer felt the tickling sensation of the flames as thick black fur spread over his skin. He fell on all fours, and stepped out into the familiar kitchen of Number 12.

His wand and the sack were between his fangs as he made his way up through the dark house. The portraits along the hall were dozing. The stairs creaked softly as Sirius placed his padded paw on the first step. He waited to see if anyone had heard, but not a soul stirred. Sirius passed faded porcelain urns and empty armor. Even in the dark, Sirius knew his way easily through the house.

In the attic, he transformed back into himself so he could easily open one of antique cabinets and load his sack with dark objects. He hoped they would sell for a decent price.

He left the cracked glass orbs and stained pieces of parchment. He took anything that looked rare and mysterious. He also left anything that looked too ghastly and dangerous. The last thing he wanted was to curse the Potters.

When his sack was full, he changed back into Padfoot and made his way back downstairs. As his sack began to clank; his dream returned to him. Would he run into Kreacher? He really didn't care that much, but it would be easier if he didn't run into anyone.

On the steps between the second and third floor, Sirius thought he heard the swish of a cloak behind him. A growl escaped him as he searched the shadows behind him. He found nothing but continued on warily. He was so close.

He reached the kitchen and headed toward the fireplace. He halted. The dark figure of his younger brother stood in his way. He snarled.

"Sirius, I assume. I don't know why you bother disguising yourself. Only one person could know the house so well."

Sirius returned from his Animagus form and stood facing Regulus with his wand. The sack lay beside him on the cold stone floor.

"You are no match for me, Regulus. You know that."

Regulus had a look in his eye that Sirius had never seen in his baby brother. A cold vengeful look that matched the tone of voice when he spoke.

"I don't want to fight you. At least not now. I just want you to listen to what I have to say." Regulus lowered his wand, and Sirius lowered his own.

"You have not only disgraced our mother, but the name of Black and all Pure-bloods. You are a strong and gifted wizard, which is why I don't stand a chance against you tonight. But only because I have not been properly trained. I am telling you now that I will do whatever it takes to make mother proud. I will do so by embracing the ideals that she holds so dear. The ones you have chosen to reject, and thus reject the noble name of Black. I will become a powerful Dark Wizard any way I can, and rid the Wizarding World of all the mudblood filth. You are no longer a part of this family, and one day I will destroy every last trace of you."

Regulus spoke calmly and beyond his years. Sirius stood shocked as he absorbed his brother's speech. The same brother he grew up playing in wizard chess. The same one he taught to fly a broomstick. The same brother he'd heard whimpering the night he ran away.

"Regulus...," Sirius croaked.

"I mean every word. Now take whatever it is in that sack, and leave. It would only upset mother to know you were here. I never want you to come back to this house again."

Sirius stood there silently. His eyes flicked back and forth from Regulus to the fireplace.

Then the small closet door in the kitchen creaked open, and Kreacher's bright eyes appeared.

"Ahhh. The wretched son of Mistress Black. The disgrace. Foul Sirius. Your stench woke me. Mistress will not be happy. No, she won't."

"Sirius is leaving. There is no need to tell mother. Go back to sleep, Kreacher."

"Yes, Master Regulus."

Kreacher and Regulus watched Sirius with glowing eyes. Their eyes glowed with a hate that Sirius had never seen.