The Disowning
Sirius had always known that the Blacks hated his guts. His mother beat him on the daily, and his cousin Bellatrix’s favorite hobby was cursing the shit out of him.
He had always known this, and he had grown used to the idea that the people who were supposed to care for him gave negative fucks about him.
But he had never thought that they would kick him out because of it.
That is, until October fifth, 1965.
“Disgrace!” Walburga Black screams at Sirius, as he shouts in pain from the whip lashes on his back..
“Shame on the house of Black!” Walburga Black reprimands Sirius, as he struggles to rise from his collapsed position on the drawing room floor.
“I never want to see you here again!” Walburga Black demands as Sirius packs up his belongings.
“I’m sorry.” Regulus Black whispers to his brother, in the dead of night, while he watches Sirius leave for the last time. “I love you.”
“I’ll see you at Hogwarts, Reggie. I’m sure.” Sirius Black murmurs in response, speaking for the first time all day, “I’ll miss you.”
Then he’s out of the door. He won’t see his brother again for six years.
“Come along, boy!” Orion Black demands, dragging an injured Sirius to a safe apparition spot.
“My back hurts-” Sirius chokes out.
“I can make it hurt worse if you don’t shut your mouth!”
Sirius shuts his mouth wisely.
Orion continues dragging Sirius to the muggle alleyway four blocks away from Grimmauld Place.
“Now, boy, you will be taken to a muggle care home for boys, and you will stay there! You will be respectful to your elders, and you will take what they give you!” Orion instructs Sirius, once they’ve reached the alleyway.
“Yes father.” Sirius mutters.
Orion examines him, grey eyes hard like stones.
Then he gives a sharp nod.
“Let’s go, then.” He says, dusting off his already spotless vest.
Sirius follows numbly.
His father grasps his hand, and then they apparate.
The care home is dingy and grey, much like Grimmauld Place. This place looks slightly more lived in, though.
The actual building is large and foreboding. It’s painted grey, and has twelve windows, six on the first floor, six on the second. Right in the middle, there’s a brown door, which Orion knocks on.
Sirius uses the pause to examine the rest of the area.
There’s trees, all of them look long-dead. They’re tall and spindly, and give the impression of skeletons reaching up from the ground, grasping for something that they can’t find.
The grass in front of the home is brown and dry. It’s scratchy and unwelcoming.
From the inside of the building, sounds of young boys shouting and older boys fighting can be heard, and in the back play area, Sirius can hear the unmistakable sounds of football.
Orion knocks sharply again.
The door opens, revealing a woman in a long grey dress with a white apron over the top. Her face is pointed and pinched, probably because of the absurdly tight bun she wears on the top of her head, which gives the impression of pulling her skin tight across her face.
“What on earth do you want!?” She demands.
“I would like to enroll my son into your institution.” Orion replies, revealing no emotion.
The woman looks down at Sirius, and she tightens her lips in distaste, as if she’s just eaten something very sour.
“Come with me.” She says finally, before promptly turning and walking briskly over to a desk in the corner of the entryway.
Orion follows, and Sirius is left behind, but he quickly trails after his father.
The interior of the building isn’t much different from the exterior. There’s hard wooden chairs seated by the desk, and no decorations, other than a few scattered toys and crayons on the floor.
The walls are predictably grey, and there’s almost no light, with the only source being the dim and flickering light fixture above their heads.
It’s not much different from Grimmauld Place here, either.
“Name?”
“Sirius Orion Black.” Orion responded.
“Age?” The woman asks, writing down the name on a blank sheet of paper.
“Five. Turns six next month.”
“Date of birth?”
“November third, nineteen fifty-nine.”
“Parents’ names?”
“Walburga and Orion Black.”
“Any injuries or ailments we should be aware of?”
Orion eyes Sirius warily.
“None.” He finally says.
“Reason for admission?”
Orion seems to consider, then he says, “We didn’t want him anymore.”
Sirius feels numb inside.
The woman nods, like that’s an adequate answer, and puts down her pen.
“We can take him. He’ll be in room 12 with Mr. Lupin.”
“Great!” Orion says, clapping his hands together, “Then I’ll be off. Sirius, I hope to never see your face again.”
“The feeling is mutual.” Sirius mutters.
Orion glares at him, but then just turns and leaves.
“Right, Sirius, your room is upstairs. Mr. Lupin will introduce you to St. Edmunds, and you’re expected to take your things up. Shoo!” The woman demands, shooing Sirius off with her hands.
Sirius nods easily. He’s too tired to put up much of a fight right now. All he wants to do is get to his new room, meet his roommate, and sleep. Doesn’t really help that he doesn’t quite know what’s going on right now.
Sirius grabs his trunk and begins to heave it up the stairs, back burning and feeling dizzy. Once he gets to the landing, he looks for room number 12. He shoves the door open, and a boy about his age, who was sitting on his bed coloring, looks up.
The boy has sandy hair that flows in waves, hazel eyes, freckles, a slight tan, and a large scar running from cheek to cheek, right across his nose.
The scar should look frightening, but somehow, it fits.
He’s wearing what Sirius assumes is the standard clothing for boys here: grey trousers, with a grey t-shirt and black trainers.
“Are you m’new roomate?” the boy asks, voice light and warm, like honey. He has an accent that Sirius thinks might be Welsh.
“Yeah… I’m new. I just got here.” Sirius responds, nervous.
The boy looks Sirius up and down, before standing up and holding out his hand.
“M’name’s Remus. I got here last year. You look right posh, might wanna fix that.”
Sirius holds out his hand, grasping Remus’s and then shaking it.
“I’m Sirius.”
Remus shakes his hand, but immediately winces and pulls his hand back, warily eyeing Sirius’s silver ring.
“You alright?” Sirius asks.
“Fine.” Remus responds, “You’re probably tired. Take a kip. I’ll protect your things.”
“Thanks.” Sirius tells him, looking for his bed. It’s across the room from Remus’s, and stripped fairly bare, with only pillows and a thin sheet for a blanket. It’ll have to do.
“G’night.” Sirius mutters, crawling into bed.
“Sleep tight.”
Sirius shuts his eyes, and falls asleep almost immediately.