Symphony for Quartet

Chapter 2: Of the diplomatic virtues of a flying broomstick

It was even worse than Sirius had expected: his mother had had him greet every single guest, even if he didn't know half of them. The worst part of it had been the arrival of his two cousins Bellatrix and Narcissa, respectively fourteen and eleven, that had expressed their hopes to see him in Slytherin. He hated the disdainful look on Bellatrix' face - she must have had heard about his lack of enthusiasm about becoming a Slytherin. He would have dearly loved to answer he would be ready to go in Gryffindor just to avoid seeing too much of them, but his mother was close by and he knew she would have skinned him alive for uttering such a blasphemy.

After greeting Mr Potter, who indeed looked really old, he braced himself for the imminent arrival of "James-Regulus" Potter. But the boy wasn't coming. His mother finally told him to wait for her, and hurried downstairs.

He didn't wait for her. The later he would see of his future nice pure-blood classmate, the better. He retreated at the furthest end of the room, towards the wall where the Black family tree tapestry was hanging.

He sat there on the floor, and stared mournfully at the all-pure-blood crowd that filled the drawing-room. He was sick of them, he was suffocating in this atmosphere. He hated that house, filled with reminders of the nobility of his family. It was really time for him to leave. It would be so great to be with kids his age, who wouldn't have heard of the Noble Black family, who wouldn't ask him every few minutes to act as a "true Black"...

Wait a minute, what was he thinking at? He was to be sorted into Slytherin, where he would join all the snobbish idiots he was supposed to have as role-models... Even Hogwarts would not rescue him then...

His mother suddenly re-entered the room, followed by a boy his age dressed in formal black robes. Sirius hid behind the curtains hanging around a nearby window, hoping against hope his mother wouldn't have the idea of looking for him. Unfortunately, that seemed to be exactly what she had planned to do next: leaving the Potter boy, she started going from one guest to another, probably asking whether they had seen him.

Looking away from her, he saw that the Potter boy was talking to his cousins and their friends. They were obviously getting along well. Oh, his father had been right, that was exactly what he needed: another smug git, obsessed by his lineage.

The boy turned away from the group pretty quickly, however, and to Sirius' horror walked straight towards him. Sirius retreated further behind the curtain, and was relieved to see that Potter had stopped to admire the tapestry showing the Black family tree.

His relief was only temporary. A hand suddenly grabbed his ear and forced him out of his hiding place. Wincing, he looked up in his mother's face. He had never seen her so furious.

"Would you be kind enough to explain why you're lurking behind the curtain, sitting in the dust?" she hissed. "Are you three? I told you to wait for me, you're supposed to greet James Potter, it's for you we invited him..."

"You shouldn't have bothered," snarled Sirius.

His mother looked as if nothing in the world could have pleased her more than giving him a good slap in the face.

"I'll deal with you tonight," she said in a threatening voice. "Now go and talk to the boy. Right now."

He had no choice. Freeing himself of his mother's grip, he headed for Potter, who was still gazing at the family tree. What on earth could be so interesting about that moth-eaten tapestry, Sirius wondered. The boy was so absorbed he didn't even look up when Sirius reached him. Sirius hesitated for a few seconds - what was he supposed to say? Then, throwing to the winds all ideas of friendly behaviour, he shot at him:

"Welcome in the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black".

The boy turned on his heels and grinned at the sight of him. The idiot was actually grinning. Did he think Sirius had just paid him a compliment?

"Hi," he said. "I'm James Potter. And you must be Sirius Black."

Sirius nodded. Potter's voice was not as unpleasant as he expected, it had not the scornful tone he had heard so often - when Lucius Malfoy had talked to him, for instance.

The two boys stared at each other for a good minute.

"We really should talk, you know," said Potter suddenly . "Your mother looks as if she's going to kill one of us."

Sirius' eyes widened. He had been expecting anything but that. Potter was looking at something behind him with a worried expression on his face; more than worried, actually - scared, more like. His mother was probably livid with rage - he knew how terrifying the sight was. He didn't dare to look around.

"Yeah... Right... Let's talk then."

He tried to find a good subject, but he was at a complete loss of words. The idea of his mother glaring at him, her wand in her hand, was clouding his mind and preventing him from thinking properly. He found himself thinking instead about how great it would be to fly today in their back yard. He had never got a chance to fly for hours at a time, as he would have liked - the Blacks thought that, if he was to know how to fly, he was not to get involved in some silly game like Quidditch. Not worthy of him. Blacks were beyond such ridiculous competitions...

Potter's voice sounded very distant when he spoke again.

"So... Starting Hogwarts this year, are you?"

Sirius blinked. Even he could not have found a duller subject.

"I know," Potter hastily went on. "But the most important thing is that she sees us talking, no matter if we're discussing the weather or acting the pure-blood monk- "

He stopped dead and turned a deep shade of red.

"Acting the pure-blood what?"

"Never mind," mumbled Potter, still very red. "Just... something with my father - "

"Pure-blood monks?" repeated Sirius mercilessly, very interested in knowing what could make this boy so uneasy.

"Drop it - it's stupid, it's just -". Potter was scarlet now.

"C'mon, tell me, what d'you think, that I'll go and tell my mummy?"

James stared. It was not what he had expected either. Black looked really different from the smug teenagers he had just spoken to; he looked - angry. That was the word he had been looking for: everything in Sirius Black, from the gleam of his grey eyes to the way he was nervously biting his lip, suggested a boiling anger about to burst its boundaries. No other pure-blood gave such an impression: anger was too much a sane, violent, improper feeling for those cold and haughty people.

"You're not pleased to see me, right?" James said abruptly.

Sirius didn't even look embarrassed. Really he was completely out of place here.

"Not only you," he said casually, "I'm sick of all those gits." He gestured towards the guests.

"Thanks," said James, his eyebrows raised, but grinning in spite of himself.

"Well," said Sirius, grinning too for the very first time, "you do look a bit more interesting. I expected you to spit out something stupid about how a pure-blood is greater than any other wizard, or God knows what rubbish... And if my mother heard me say that, I'm dead," he added in a light tone, as an afterthought.

At least he was brave. If Sirius' mother had been looking at James the way she was currently looking at her son, he would probably have killed himself before she had a chance to catch him alive.

"Funny you should say that," he said, "I would've thought you were proud of your family. You know, with the family tree, and all..."

"Yeah, the family tree," said Sirius, shrugging. "It's only a matter of time I get blasted off it, anyway. God, I would be ready to do anything as long as it has a chance to upset my lovely pure-blood family. Even to go in Gryffindor, and that's saying something."

"Why, what's wrong with Gryffindor?" asked James, frowning slightly - he was quite touchy about Gryffindor, maybe because of Lucius Malfoy's endless taunts.

Sirius goggled at him.

"Are you kidding? Gryffindor - who would want to end up there? Except - "

He stopped. He had forgotten James' family was a Gryffindor lot, and he had been close to say something really rude. He wouldn't have minded ten minutes ago, but now he had talked with James he didn't want him to think he was a complete jerk. He was the first boy which whom he had been able to talk for more than a few minutes without wanting to commit murder, after all.

"Go on," said James, grinning again at Sirius' embarrassment. "What did your parents tell you? That Gryffindors were pitiful show-offs or something?"

"Well...not exactly... It's rather, you know, fools that are happy to die young as soon as they can shout poetry about courage and honour and stuff like that, just before their opponent kill them."

James burst out laughing.

"Your turn," shot Sirius. "Why did you say we were acting the pure-blood monks?"

"Not monks," choked James, still laughing, "monkeys. That sort of people that keep boasting around about their lineage..."

"Like my family does, you mean."

James felt himself go red again. What a fool. Couldn't he keep his mouth shut for two seconds put together?

"That's okay," said Sirius. "I actually like that. I should have thought about it a long time ago. Pure-blood monkeys..." he laughed softly. "So I guessed you would have been quite happy to avoid this charming little party?" he asked with a sarcastic smile.

James shrugged. Whatever Sirius had said, he was determined not to open his mouth again.

"So would I," muttered Sirius, even if James had not said a word. "It would be so great to fly today... I didn't even mount my broomstick all summer."

"Really?" said James, who was so shocked by this idea he forgot his resolution of keeping quiet. "D'you have a place to go for flying?"

"The back yard. Perfect for Quidditch practice. If someone bother to get there." He really looked completely depressed by this idea.

James looked around. Sirius' mother was talking with a group of Ministry wizards, his parents were chatting animatedly with Griselda Marshbank in a distant corner, the teenagers he had talked to earlier were all being bored in front of the window. Nobody was paying them attention.

"We could go," he said matter-of-factly.

Sirius' eyes widened.

"Go? To the back yard, you mean?"

"Yes," said James confidently . "Nobody will notice us. We could fly for an hour or so, then come back as if nothing had happened. The afternoon won't be completely wasted."

He had thought that maybe Sirius would be uneasy at the idea of leaving the party to play Quidditch when he wasn't allowed to, but on the contrary his face broke into a huge smile.

"Great! Do you have your broom?"

"No," realised James. He hadn't thought of that.

"No matter," said Sirius firmly. "We'll nick my brother's. It's quite good."

"But what if your brother notice?"

"We'll lock him in a cupboard, it will take ages to find him, there are about a thousand cupboards in that house." The idea seemed to delight him.

James smiled too, feeling suddenly excited.

"Let's go then!"

They sneaked out of the drawing room and up a flight of stairs. Sirius opened the door of a perfectly clean and tidy bedroom.

"My room," he said. "It's usually much more welcoming, but Kreacher the house-elf cleaned it this morning. I hate when he does that - I can't live in that sort of place, it's just too clean."

He opened a cupboard and started rummaging inside, throwing things over his shoulder as he did so. He finally straightened up, holding a brand new broomstick, which looked as if it was seldom used.

"At least the welcome problem is solved," said James, nodding towards the mess Sirius had created in the middle of the room.

"Yeah, much better," agreed Sirius very seriously, casually knocking over a neat pile of books that crashed on the floor and spread everywhere. "Now, Regulus' room."

"Is your brother sick of all this pure-blood thing as well?" asked James as he followed Sirius in a corridor.

"Regulus?" Sirius snorted. "He loves that stuff. He worships my mother so much he would never dare to think a word that could upset her. Right," he added, opening another door. "I don't know where he's hiding it, but it shouldn't be too difficult to find... Look under the bed, I'll do the cupboard..."

They started searching the room. James tried at first to put things back where he had found them, but as Sirius didn't bother and kept reminding him that time was running out, he quickly gave up. Soon the place was incredibly messy, books and clothes scattering the floor. Sirius had even pulled the sheets off the bed, but still they couldn't find the broomstick.

"He hid it very well," said Sirius, disgruntled. "What about cornering him and torturing him until - "

The door opened. A small boy, who looked like an insipid version of Sirius, stood horrified in the doorway.

"Excellent," said Sirius brightly . "Regulus, we were just about to ask you whether you would lend James your broomstick."

The boy looked outraged now, and James couldn't honestly blame him.

"You've messed up my room!" he screamed in a high-pitched voice.

"Don't scream," said hurriedly James. "It's just... we didn't know where to find you, and we need your broom, okay? We'll put everything right, don't worry. Just don't tell the others - you may go with us!" he added suddenly, ignoring the threatening look on Sirius' face. "Come on, Regulus, can you lend me your broom? We could take it in turn..."

Regulus was looking at James with a disgusted expression.

"You filthy blood-traitor," he spat.

Next thing James knew, he had punched the little boy who ran out of the room, screaming at the top of his lungs. Sirius ran after him, caught up with him and took him back to his room, dragging him carelessly by the ankle.

"Right," he panted, forcing his brother to look at James. "Now apologize."

"Drop it, never mind," said James. He was shaking with anger, but he felt also slightly ashamed of hitting a nine-year-old.

"Suit you," said Sirius, shrugging. "You don't have to apologize, you little rat, but I'd really like to know where your broom is. Otherwise I'll be very angry at you."

"I don't care, I'll tell mum!" shrieked Regulus. "I'll tell mum and you'll be punished! And you'll never find my broom, it's well hidden, he will never let you have it!"

"What were you saying about locking him in a cupboard?" shouted James over Regulus' screams.

They found the perfect cupboard on the third floor, full of fur coats. Before slamming the door shut, Sirius threw a teddy bear in his brother's face.

"Here you go - I chose the one who's singing so you're not feeling alone. Bye, little bro! This way," he told James, climbing the stairs two steps at a time.

"We still don't know where his broom is," James pointed out, wondering where Sirius was leading him.

"Oh yes, we do," replied Sirius. "Or at least, I've got a good idea. Remember when he said 'he will never let you have it'? I think he was talking about the ghoul in the attic. Our parents don't know about it, they never go up there. Well, I went there when I was seven and the ghoul jumped up my throat. Fortunately I had candy in my pocket and it ate it all and then it fell asleep. So when I came back there, I brought it sweets and I hid Bellatrix' Chocolate Frog cards in its nest while it was eating. Then the ghoul lay down on the cards and fell asleep, and Bellatrix never found her cards. Oh, she was furious," he said in a satisfied voice. "Anyway, Regulus must have found out about the sweet thing... Here we are."

Sirius stopped on the very last step, which led directly to an old and neglected door. They were just under the roof. Kneeling, Sirius put his hand into a hole in the skirting board, and pulled out a dirty little bag. He took one or two Muggle sweets out of it.

"Nicked them from a Muggle boy," he said with a grin. "They're quite good, you know. Shame I couldn't get more. But of course my mum freaked out when she saw me so close to a Muggle. She made me have the longest bath of my life after that." He rolled his eyes. "Okay... the door..."

But the door was locked and there was no key. Sirius swore.

"Regulus must've taken the key to his bedroom, the filthy little - "

"No matter," said James.

He pulled a knife out of his pocket, slid the blade into the crack around the door and moved it up and down. The lock gave a loud clicking noise and the door opened.

"Mischief managed," said cheerfully James, pleased to see Sirius looked impressed.

Regulus' broomstick was indeed in the ghoul's nest, carefully wrapped in an old towel. They had just the time to grab it before the ghoul collapsed on its nest and started snoring loudly.

They finally found themselves in Sirius' bedroom, both holding a broom.

"We're going into the yard through my window," decided Sirius. "There's no other way, I bet you anything the door's locked and that my dear mum is wearing the key around her neck."

And so they made a ladder out of Sirius' sheets and went through the window and out in the back yard.

Sirius had been right: it was a great place for Quidditch practice. What must have been at first a sad, grey and small yard surrounded by high walls had been magically transformed into a little garden covered in smooth grass, lined with neat flower bushes that left a significant space for practice. The walls of the houses surrounding it were transparent, letting in the warm light of the summer sun. There was one fifty-feet-high hoop at each end of the yard.

They took off immediately. James couldn't resist the temptation of showing-off; he sped towards the other end of the yard before taking a very sharp turn, then flew straight to Sirius and avoided collision at the very last second.

"Good one!" exclaimed Sirius. "Now what about actually playing?"

He showed James the old ordinary ball he had picked up from the ground.

"Okay, I play Chaser, you're keeping the goal, and we're switching as soon as I've scored."

James was without doubt the best flyer, but Sirius turned out to be quite good, too. True, he never got past James, but he nearly knocked him off his broom twice by throwing the old ball in his face.

"You should think about becoming a Beater," James shouted after dodging a third ferociously-thrown ball.

"I'd love to," shouted back Sirius, catching the ball James had just tossed him. "But I don't think first-years are allowed in the school teams."

"No, they're not. Too bad, I would have loved beating Malfoy at Quidditch in front of the whole school. He's playing Chaser for Slytherin."

"You know that Malfoy? I saw you talking to him."

"Yeah, he's something like my third or fourth cousin or I don't know what. Slimy git."

"I thought so," said Sirius scornfully. "He must think he's soooo cool with his smug face and his long blonde hair. Ugh!"

Sirius aimed a shot at James, who blocked it and threw the ball back for another try.

"And I bet you anything," went on Sirius, "that Uncle Marcus and the Malfoys are already planning Bellatrix and Lucius' wedding. After all he's a nice pure-blood boy, and he's not even in her family already. That's quite rare now. Come to think of it," he added, throwing the ball so hard it soared straight between James' outstretched hands and hit him rather painfully in the stomach, "you're not in the family, either. You would make a great husband for Narcissa."

"Yeah right," gasped James, fighting to catch his breath as he remembered vividly the way blonde Narcissa Black had looked down upon him. "As if I wanted to marry such a snobbish - "

"If I were you, Potter, I would not finish that sentence," said a drawling voice from the ground.

James froze, his arm raised to shoot. Sirius, who was Keeping, didn't look down but closed his eyes as if he expected to be struck by lightning. James lowered his arm, took a deep breath and turned on his broom to look at Lucius Malfoy, who was smirking, his cold eyes fixed on the pair of them.

And it was not the worst part of it: James' parents were hurrying towards them, their faces white with shock, closely followed by Sirius' parents. Sirius' father looked merely surprised, but his mother was obviously furious. Regulus was crying loudly behind her. A little crowd of wizards were gathering now around Lucius, staring up at them.

Mrs Black opened her mouth and James braced himself for the explosion.

"SIRIUS BLACK!"

Sirius finally opened his eyes and turned to look at her.

"Hi, Mum," he only said.

His mother raised her wand. Her spell hit Sirius who was irresistibly attracted towards the ground, where he landed rather harshly. James landed next to him seconds later. Both boys straightened up and looked up into their parents' faces.

***

"I'm so sorry, Lenora, I would never have thought James would - he's a very quiet boy usually..."

A very quiet boy? That was news to James.

"It was lovely, really. We'd better go now."

"Why on earth did you need to go flying?" whispered his father as his mother was saying goodbye to a still-outraged Mrs Black in the Floo Hallway. "I told you just to be polite, not to compel yourself to befriend him."

"He's all right," James whispered back. "He's a lot nicer than his cousins actually. You just need to get to know him."

His father looked at him with his eyebrows raised, then said:

"Well, at least you have demonstrated the unknown diplomatic virtues of Quidditch. I would never have guessed you could get along with that boy, he looked really sulky when I entered the drawing room."

James half-shrugged, then took a pinch of Floo Powder and stepped in the green flames. He was very glad to leave the Black house, but he was also looking forward to going to Hogwarts, where he would see Sirius Black again.