The black family legacy
Sirius Black had long since perfected the art of silence.
It was the only way to survive in this house.
The Black family townhouse was a mausoleum of old money and even older expectations, each room suffocating under the weight of its own history. Velvet drapes blocked out most of the natural light, as though the sun itself was unwelcome here. Every inch of the place smelled of dust, expensive perfume, and something colder—something that clung to Sirius’ skin like cobwebs.
He sat stiffly on the edge of one of the antique armchairs in the drawing room, fingers curled into the fabric of his jeans. His mother stood across from him, poised and pristine, her expression as sharp as the diamonds at her throat. His father sat in his usual spot, half-shadowed in the dim light, the edges of his newspaper crinkling as he folded it and set it aside.
“This is your last chance, Sirius.” His mother’s voice was ice. “You will do as you are told.”
Sirius clenched his jaw. He already knew where this was going. Knew it the moment Regulus had muttered a quiet, Mother wants to see you that morning, eyes downcast like he didn’t dare look his brother in the face.
Sirius swallowed down the instinct to argue. To push back. He had learned long ago that protests only made things worse. Instead, he let silence settle heavy in the room, staring at a spot just past his mother’s shoulder.
His father exhaled, long and slow. “You are ungrateful,” he said simply, like he was stating a fact. “You have been given everything, and yet you insist on acting like some common delinquent.”
Sirius bit his tongue hard enough to taste copper. Given everything? The words burned at the back of his throat. He had been given rules, expectations, a mold to fit into that was too tight, too suffocating. He had been given the knowledge that love was conditional—something that could be revoked the second he stepped out of line.
“Your behavior is an embarrassment to this family,” his mother continued. “The company you keep, the way you carry yourself—it is unacceptable. We have given you every opportunity to correct yourself, but clearly, you refuse to learn.”
Sirius’ nails dug into his palms. “Maybe I don’t want to learn.”
The slap came before he even registered her moving.
His head snapped to the side, a sharp sting blooming across his cheek. He forced himself not to react, not to flinch, not to let her see the way his throat tightened.
His mother simply smoothed down the sleeve of her blouse, as if the outburst had been nothing more than a necessary inconvenience. “Enough.”
His father exhaled again, standing. “You will be attending Hogwarts Academy this fall.”
Sirius blinked. His stomach dropped.
Boarding school.
They were getting rid of him.
For a second—just a second—relief flickered in his chest. But then he caught the look in his mother’s eyes, the cool satisfaction, and that relief curdled into something else.
“You will do as you are told,” his father said. “You will stop embarrassing this family. And if we hear one word about you acting out—” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.
Sirius forced himself to breathe, forced himself to keep his expression blank. But inside, something cracked.
He nodded once, sharp and short. “Fine.”
His mother studied him for a moment longer, then turned on her heel, already dismissing him. His father lingered a second more, then followed, the heavy library doors clicking shut behind them.
Sirius stayed where he was, heartbeat thrumming in his ears. His cheek still stung, but he ignored it, staring at the flickering candle on the mantle.
Hogwarts Academy.
He didn’t know what was waiting for him there. But he knew what was waiting for him here.
And for the first time in a long time, Sirius Black felt something close to hope.