The Black Brothers
Thursday, 3rd September 1970
While a small boy with lots of scars all over his body was in an office holding books, a dark-haired kid woke up.
He stared at the white ceiling, thinking if he should get up (which automatically involved fighting with his mother) or just stay in the comfortable bed a bit more, enjoying that peace.
He decided the second option was the best, and rolled over to the left side of the bed, raising the duvet just under his chin. Sirius didn’t mind if it still was a bit hot outside; he loved to have all his body covered. It gave him a weird feeling of protection.
He glanced at the calendar he had held only two days ago, counting down the days to go to Hogwarts, and also until Christmas. On Christmas, the Blacks did a big family reunion, which was not fun at all, but he was looking forward to seeing Andromeda.
She was his favourite cousin. She didn’t look at him as if he was a constant disappointment, saying “You’re the heir of the Black family. Behave as one.”
The girl always smiled at him, and, secretly, showed him some muggle records her boyfriend Ted lent her. They were the left-out in their family, indeed, but he just loved to do other things that weren’t studying his ancestors (except for uncle Alphard), and repeat over and over again the importance of keeping the pureblood in their family (it was starting to scare Sirius. His fathers were cousins. Seriously, why??)
He kept thinking about random things, until his stomach growled hungrily and he had no choice but to go down stairs for breakfast.
He put on his red slippers, and lazily stretched before getting up. He walked through the large and elegant corridors of his house. The squared floor and green yellowish walls were full of portraits of his ancestors. Some of them were sizing him as he walked past.
“You, kid, remember to always listen to your mother. It is extremely important to acknowledge everything about your noble family, and…” An old dark-haired woman began.
“Ugh, shut up.” Sirius groaned in response.
It was disrespectful. He knew it. But he only did it to freak his mom out.
His mom.
She was so nasty that Sirius thought she had no heart at all. She always wore her black hair in an elegant bun, and always looked at him coldly through her half moon glasses. She had no problem using some spells to punish him and his brother, Regulus. He would sometimes have deep cuts on his leg, but a tiny part of his brain kept saying: You know, some day she will change. Maybe. Probably.
He eventually arrived at the kitchen, and as always, Walburga was there, sitting at the end of the large table with a porcelain cup of tea and reading The Prophet. A younger boy, who was almost identical to Sirius, was sitting at the right, with a plate in front of him which contained two toasts: one with strawberry jam, and the other with ham.
Sirius sat down quietly in front of his younger brother, and said with monotone voice:
“Good morning, mother.”
“Bonjour, Sirius.” she replied, without looking at him.
Now the dark-haired boy focused on the kid sitting in front of him, and said, more cheerfully:
“Good morning, Reg.”
“Good morning, Sirius.” He started to eat his jam toast, not before smiling at his older brother.
Kreacher, the domestic elf of the family (which was actually really old, by now) came to him and asked what he wanted for breakfast. He ordered two fried eggs and an orange juice.
When the domestic elf left, Walburga glared Regulus, and said:
“Regulus Arcturus Black, I expect you to show me the homework I assigned you right now.”
Sirius saw Regulus tremble a bit, as he was putting down the toast.
“Mother, I do not have them.” he said, glaring at his feet. “I completely forgot…”
“Because you spent the whole afternoon playing in the garden.” Walburga snapped. “Regulus, you are expected to accomplish your assignments. Everyone in the Black family works hard to achieve great things.”
“Yes, I know, but..”
“There is no justification.” Walburga said, impatiently. She held her hand towards him. “Regulus.”
The young boy didn’t move an inch.
“Regulus Arcturus Black.” Her mother hissed.
Regulus, without looking at her, placed his pale wrist in her mother’s hand, and shut his eyes firmly, knowing what was coming.
Walburga took out her wand, and pointed at the perfect, smooth skin.
“Please, mother, do not do that.” Sirius exclaimed.
“Don’t you dare to talk to me like that ever again.” The woman said, greeting her teeth. “You can not raise your voice when you are talking to me. I am your mother.”
Walburga raised her chin, and ignored her eldest son. He pointed again at Regulus’ wrist, and a long horizontal cut appeared. It was bright red, and slowly blood came out.
Regulus grimaced, and his eyes got glassy. His cheeks turned a bit red, and his breath quickened.
“That is not fair.” Sirius protested, getting on his feet and putting his hands on the table. He couldn’t bear watching how his mother hurt his younger brother in front of him.
“Sit down.” Walburga hissed, still not lowering her long wand.
“Mother, he is just nine.”
“So you were and you also were punished.”
Yes, and I kind of hoped that I could protect Regulus from that horrible feeling. From healing yourself at nights, and also from your horrific spells. Sirius thought.
But the dark-haired kid just turned around to get out of the kitchen. Unluckily, he accidentally hit with his right hand the glass full of orange juice.
Sirius watched with horror how the glass trembled, poured all the content all over the perfect white tablecloth, and finally fell to the ground, breaking in a million pieces which spread all over the floor.
He didn’t dare to look at his mother. He could feel her anger levels rising, her eyes practically on fire.
He shut his eyes, knowing what was coming.
“SIRIUS ORION BLACK!” Walburga yelled, standing up. She reached her son and grabbed him by the shoulders. She turned him around. “Is this how an heir behaves?!”
“It has been an accident.” Sirius muttered, suddenly feeling very small, almost insignificant. Her mother was towering him, with her face red and eyes brightening with anger.
“Do not come up with excuses!” she exclaimed. “This would not have happened if you had not been so irresponsible!”
“It is the truth!” Sirius said now, raising his voice. “It has been an accident. I just hit the glass with my hand and…”
“I said no excuses!” Walburga repeated. “Who do you think you are to drop glasses when you are angry?”
“It was not on purpose!” Sirius exclaimed, opening his arms in frustration.
But it was useless. The woman pointed at Sirius' left leg with her wand, and a deep cut appeared there: a fresh wound appeared, red blood starting to appear and fall down to his ankle.
The kid contained a cry; he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction to see him suffering. He just covered the wound with his left hand, trying to stop the bleeding in vain. He would have to get an old sheet and cover it up with it.
Sirius began to walk outside the kitchen, but Walburga stopped him.
“Come here and have breakfast. Do not dare to run away.”
So Sirius sat down again with resignation, blinking repeatedly to stop the tears. They weren’t because of pain, but of frustration. Sometimes he felt he was in jail, with no escape.
But only one year, one more year and then… He would be in Hogwarts, getting sorted in Slytherin, probably. He would make lots of friends, and what 's best: he wouldn’t be with his mother for a time. No more French, no more studying his ancestors, no more curses… It almost sounded impossible because of how beautiful and perfect that sounded. Almost a dream.
With that thought, he started eating his fried eggs, trying to ignore the sharp pain that was running up his leg.
- · · · · · · ·
“There. Are you better now?” Sirius asked, as he finished tying a patch of white sheet around Regulus' wrist.
“Yes, a bit better.” he responded weakly.
They were sitting in Sirius’ bed, with the door firmly shut. It was late afternoon, and the sunlight was entering through the window, and the sky was tinged with a beautiful orange.
“Do not be too upset.” Sirius said, approaching his brother. “You know how she is.” He wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
“But it still hurts.” Regulus said, looking at him sadly.
The eldest started to think of something to cheer him up.
“I bet one day, instead of that horrible bun, she will have horns in her head.” he started, laughing. “Because she is the devil.”
“Shut up.” Regulus rolled his eyes, with a smile.
“Do you reckon that she lived in hell when she was our age?”
“I think so.” Regulus snorted, now almost forgetting about his wounded wrist.
And they laughed together, rolling on the bed, still making jokes of how evil was her mother (“Do you think she has wings and all that stuff?” “Maybe she sleeps upside down.”)
When they almost couldn’t breath, Regulus sat up and said, with a warm smile:
“Thank you, Sirius.”
“No problem.” smiled the other one, still laying up at the ceiling. “Do you want to go out and play in the garden? You do not have homework, do you?”
“No, I have already finished them.” Regulus shook his head. “But what about your leg?”
“It is fine, now.” Sirius looked at his own parchment, which had a red long which crossed the whole fabric vertically. It didn’t hurt, now. He had applied a bit of Murtlap essence that it was in the larder (a little advice from Andy) “Come on! Let’s go out and play!” He stood up quickly. “You are not as fast as me.” He stuck out his tongue to his younger brother, and burst out of the room.
“Hey, that is not true!” Regulus exclaimed, jumping out of the bed.
And they were soon running down stairs, and when they arrived at the garden, they began playing tag, laughing cheerfully, forgetting about everything just for a few hours.
Then, breathless, they climbed up a tree that was quite tall and had lots of big and solid branches, perfectly able to support the weight of two children. They sat down next to each other, and watched the sunset, and how the stars were beginning to shine in the sky.