Lies We Live, Truths We Bury

I'm walking down the line

That divides me somewhere in my mind

On the borderline

Of the edge, and where I walk alone

Read between the lines

What's fucked up, and everything's alright

Check my vital signs

To know I'm still alive, and I walk alone

 

Sirius sat in his bedroom, staring at the mirror on the wall, the dim light casting harsh shadows over his face. He ran a hand through his messy black hair, the once carefree strands now tangled with frustration and exhaustion. The weight of what he was about to do pressed heavily on him, but he couldn’t ignore the smoldering anger building inside.

After weeks of grueling training under Dumbledore’s watchful eye which included mind reading, defensive spells, espionage techniques . Sirius had finally reached the point where he felt ready. Ready to make his move. Ready to leave the Order of the Phoenix. Not just leave, but do so in a way that would make return almost impossible .That would show them he was done, with their half-assed plans, their endless talking, their futile hopes.

He could still hear Dumbledore’s voice echoing in his mind. “Make it hurt, Sirius. Make them feel your absence,so they can’t ignore it. You’re no longer part of this, no longer one of them. Let them know you’re leaving for good. If you want to be a Death Eater, you must play the part.”

But fuck that. Sirius wasn’t playing anything. If he was going down, he wasn’t going quietly.He grabbed the bottle of firewhiskey from his bedside table, taking a long, greedy swig. The burning sensation traveled down his throat, but it did little to numb the chaos in his mind. He poured another glass, sipping slowly, trying to drown the doubts and fears clawing at him.

Dumbledore wanted him to act, to show that he didn’t give a damn about anything anymore. Well, Sirius had never been good at hiding his emotions, and right now, he wanted them all to see how far gone he was—how little he cared about the Order, about their so-called ‘noble’ mission.

The room was suffocatingly quiet, the air heavy with expectation and faint traces of tea and parchment. Candles burned low in sconces along the walls, their flickering light throwing jagged shadows across the room, where members of the Order of the Phoenix sat in tense silence. The scratched, mismatched chairs encircling the old wooden table creaked as people shifted uncomfortably, their patience worn thin.

A sudden, resounding bang broke the stillness as the door slammed open. Sirius Black stood framed in the doorway, a disheveled figure exuding chaos. His robes were haphazardly thrown on, their once-pristine fabric crumpled and stained, the faint glint of a silver buckle undone at his side. His dark hair, usually windswept with some semblance of style, hung limp and tangled over his hollow, shadowed eyes, casting his face in uneven darkness.

The smell hit them first, sharp and pungent, a cocktail of cheap whiskey, stale cigarettes, and the cloying sweetness of cheap perfume. It wasn’t subtle. It clung to him like an accusation, filling the air in a wave that felt almost intentional.

His boots thudded against the floor, each step slow, deliberate, as though he was dragging some unseen weight behind him. The sound echoed in the stillness, amplifying the sheer audacity of his entrance. Sirius’s shoulders slouched as he sauntered in, swaying slightly, though his chin was raised defiantly, his storm-gray eyes glinting with something between defiance and mockery.

The firelight glimmered on his collar where the faintest smear of lipstick marked the edge of his neck, its garish crimson standing out like a wound against his pale skin. His wand, tucked loosely into his belt, wobbled precariously with each uneven step, as if even it wasn’t sure where it belonged.

And then came the laugh—a sharp, low chuckle that cracked through the tension like a blade. It was too loud, too careless, almost feral. It set every nerve on edge as it ricocheted around the room.

Sirius paused halfway to the table, swaying slightly as he surveyed the room. His gaze swept over the silent faces, each marked with a varying degree of anger, disappointment, or discomfort. His lips curled into a lopsided smirk, the expression of a man who knew exactly what he was doing.

“Well,” he drawled, his voice rough and slurred but laced with undeniable charm, “don’t everyone look so bloody delighted to see me at once.”

The silence stretched, brittle and crackling, as Sirius threw himself into the nearest chair. It groaned under the force, tilting precariously as he leaned back, sprawling with the kind of arrogant nonchalance that seemed calculated to irritate. His arms stretched out along the backrest, the faint clink of a flask in his pocket audible as he shifted.

Every eye in the room was on him, some burning with indignation, others glancing away as though unsure whether to engage. Sirius’s grin widened at the tension, the weight of judgment rolling off him like water.

"Don’t mind me,” he added, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt whatever riveting discussion I’m sure you’ve been having without me.”Nobody laughed. And yet, Sirius didn’t seem to care. The wild card had arrived, carrying his recklessness like a badge of honor, daring anyone in the room to challenge him.

“Late again, Black?” Moody's sharp gaze drilled into him like a blade.

“Running a little behind, aren't we?” Lily shot from across the table, her voice tight with annoyance.

“Guess I’ve got important things to do, haven’t I?” Sirius drawled, dragging his booted feet across the floor with the casual air of someone who owned the room. “Gotta keep busy, you know? Keep the Order alive, one drink at a time.”

“Where the hell have you been, Sirius?” Lily Potter snapped first, her usually warm and composed voice sharp with frustration. Her fiery red hair seemed to burn under the dim lights. She stood from her seat, her wand clenched tightly in her hand.

“Off getting drunk, Lily,” Sirius spat back, his voice cold and sarcastic. He swayed slightly on his feet, taking a swig from the flask hidden in his coat. His lips curled into a smirk, as if daring her to respond further.

“Disgraceful,” Remus muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

But Sirius wasn’t here to play nice. He didn’t want to make amends or explain. He wanted to provoke them. He wanted them to hurt, just like he did.

“Did you really think you could show up an hour late like that?” James asked, his tone low and warning. His hand rested firmly on his wand holster, his hazel eyes narrowing. His best friend, his brother-in-arms, was acting like a stranger.

“Oh, what? You care now, Potter?” Sirius laughed bitterly. “It’s all fun and games until someone has to actually step up, right?” He tilted his head, his dark eyes flicking from one member to the next. His smile twisted into something twisted and cruel. “You lot talk about being part of some grand rebellion, but really, you’re just a bunch of old fools—chatting, counting losses like it’s all some glorious cause.”

The room fell silent. No one expected him to speak this way. No one wanted to believe it.James stepped forward. “Sirius, stop it—this isn’t you—”

“Not me?” Sirius laughed again, louder this time, his voice thick with anger. “It’s exactly me, Potter. You just never bothered to notice because you’ve been too busy pretending everything is fine. But it’s not fine! We’re dying out there—you’re dying, and you can’t see it!” He pointed a shaky finger at each of them, his voice rising. “Do you know what the other side has? What we’re actually fighting? The dark curses,the rituals, they’re stronger than your damn Patronus charms, stronger than your little healing potions.”

“Enough!” James barked, but his words were drowned out by Sirius' fury. Sirius was on fire now. The walls were closing in, the Order’s failure pressing down on him. He couldn’t hold it in. “You lot follow Dumbledore like sheep, don’t you? All his bullshit about the ‘greater good.’ The Greater Good?” He spat the words, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s just an excuse! Do you even know what that man’s doing? Manipulating all of you. You’re so blinded by his silver tongue you can’t even see it!”

Dumbledore’s name had a strange, poisonous effect. Gasps filled the room. People exchanged looks, there was disbelief, confusion, anger. The man who had led them for so long, the man who had been the shining beacon of hope… being painted as a manipulator?

“That’s enough!” Lily’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. She pointed her wand at Sirius, her eyes fierce. “You will not speak of Dumbledore that way. Not here, not now. He’s guiding us through this he’s keeping us together!”

“Oh, yeah?” Sirius sneered, taking a step forward, his gaze cold and cutting. “You really believe that, don’t you? All for the greater good. You believe you’ll be remembered, you’ll be heroes. But you’re all delusional.” His voice was low, venomous. “You’ll just end up dead, one by one, while Dumbledore plays his games.”

James had had enough. His hand shot out, gripping Sirius by the arm. “That’s enough, mate. I said—”

“Don’t,” Sirius hissed, shaking him off. “Don’t call me ‘mate.’ I’m not your fucking friend anymore. I’m not one of you.”The weight of Sirius’ words hung in the air. No one could quite believe it. His gaze swept the room, landing on Remus, Peter, Lily, James…

“You’re weak. You can’t fight. None of you have the guts to do what needs to be done.” His voice was low, but his accusations were sharper than any cutting hex. “You sit around here, waiting for someone else to fix everything. But you won’t win this war with half-measures, do you understand that? You won’t save anyone by just being loyal sheep.”

Remus took a step forward, his face pale but determined. “We’re not just loyal, we’re—”

“Loyal to what?” Sirius interrupted with a bark of laughter. “Dumbledore’s half-assed resistance?” He stepped closer, invading their space, his anger burning. “You think you know what it means to be ruthless?” He raised an eyebrow, mockingly. “I know about all your fancy little spells. I know how to cast a bloody Patronus, Expelliarmus, and fix the little wounds. But that’s not what they have. The other side? They’re stronger, they’re darker.”

He jabbed a finger toward them, his voice rising with bitterness. He tilted his head, smiling wickedly. “They don’t give a damn about your little half-hearted protection spells. They want power! True power, and you’re all too bloody afraid to get your hands dirty to get it.”

“Enough, Sirius!” James barked, stepping forward once again, his face flushed with anger. “This isn’t who you are—”

“I know who I am!” Sirius snapped, his voice raw and filled with fury. “And I’m done with this... this self-righteous nonsense. I’m leaving.” He turned sharply, his body tense, and headed toward the door.

“You can’t just leave, Sirius!” James’s voice was louder now—angry, pleading.Sirius stopped, his back to the room, shoulders stiff. He laughed bitterly under his breath. “Oh, but I can.” He spun around, a smirk curling his lips. “I’m done playing pretend with you lot. I’m done with the ‘Order.’ I’m done with all of you.”

“Don’t do this, Sirius,” Lily said softly, but her eyes shimmered with worry.

“I don’t care anymore.” Sirius’ voice was cold, devoid of the warmth it once held. He gestured with one hand, casually. “Mission? Greater good? Fuck all of it.” He sneered, watching the pain that rippled across their faces. “I’m going to do what I’ve always done—on my own terms. Goodbye.”

Without another word, Sirius turned and walked out the door, his mind already set on the grim, oppressive place he once called home—the Black family’s ancestral residence, Grimmauld Place.

Sirius didn’t stray far—physically, at least. He found himself standing in front of Grimmauld Place, the ancient house he had once been forced to abandon after his family’s disgrace. The dark, twisted gates loomed above him, their iron bars creaking in the cold wind, a stark reminder of the past he had long tried to escape. His once-grand, pureblood family home had long since fallen into abandonment, shrouded in shadows and whispers of curses.

With trembling fists, Sirius knocked heavily on the door, his breath coming out ragged from the alcohol and the simmering fury burning within him. The door creaked open slowly, but it wasn’t a house-elf who answered something darker, something far more sinister, waited behind it.And then, as if the air itself grew colder, a voice cut through the stillness—old and cruel, yet so achingly familiar.

“Welcome home, son of mine,” the voice hissed. “About time you came to your senses.”Sirius froze in place, his entire body tensing. His hands curled into fists, nails digging into his palms as the words hit him like a punch to the gut. That voice, so sharp, so filled with hatred, belonged to his mother. The woman who had spent his entire life reminding him of his worthlessness, the one who had cast him out when he defied their bloodline. The one who had never considered him a true heir.

He braced himself, drawing in a deep breath, his jaw clenched tight. Slowly, he stepped into the house, the door creaking shut behind him with a final, ominous echo.

The air inside Grimmauld Place was thick and drenched in decades of darkness, secrets, and the lingering presence of his family’s power. It smelled of mildew and faded memories, yet Sirius knew this place had never truly been abandoned. The house itself seemed alive, breathing in its own malevolence.And his mother’s voice followed him into the shadows, sharp and biting. “Did you think you could run forever, Sirius? You carry our blood, there’s nowhere you can hide from it.”

His heart thudded, not from fear, but from the overwhelming emotions he’d kept buried for so long. It had been a long time since he last stood here, years of avoiding what was expected, of denying the life he was supposed to lead. Yet, now he had returned willingly, stepping through the dark entrance with a purpose clear in his mind.He could hear the familiar footsteps : Orion, his father, rushing toward him, his expression alight with joy. Walburga, his mother, emerged next, her cold eyes suddenly softening into something that resembled genuine affection, though only barely. His mother’s voice broke through the tension, sharp and cutting.

“Orion! He’s here! Our wayward son has returned!”Sirius’ mother, Walburga Black, stood rigid, her eyes gleaming with something between pride and possessiveness. Her thin hands, adorned with heavy rings, trembled slightly with excitement as she beheld him. And beside her, his father ,Orion, stood, his posture stiff but a begrudging grin spreading across his face.

“You’ve come back,” Walburga hissed, her voice heavy with a peculiar venom. “It’s about time, Sirius. It’s about time you stopped shaming the name of House Black.”

Sirius felt a mix of emotions churning inside him relief, anger, shame but what surfaced most powerfully was exhaustion. He was finally home, but it wasn’t home.

"Mother..." he murmured, letting the warmth of her body flood over him. “I am tired of All of it. The Order and Dumbledore. The people I thought were fighting for the right cause. I see it now. It was all folly. It was blind hope, a waste of energy. I know better.”

Walburga’s grip tightened as tears shimmered in her eyes. “Oh, my son.You’ve come to your senses at last. You’re ready now. You’ve truly seen the truth. See it clearly now. They’ve only weakened you, those so-called friends. The Order has always been useless. Always misguided, led by a weak leader. Dumbledore has been feeding you lies. Lies, Sirius. All this time. But you’re strong, stronger than them.”

“Yes, I was wrong to leave. To defy you both, to fight with those... fools. The Order of Phoenix is nothing but a gathering of weaklings, traitors, bound to fall apart! And I...” Sirius’s voice faltered, but he pushed on, his expression turning somber, repentant. “I want to correct my mistakes. I want to make things right for you, for our family.”

Orion, standing nearby, nodded, his beard twitching with satisfaction. He placed a firm hand on Sirius’s shoulder, his gaze unwavering. “You speak with the blood of a Black. The blood of the true, noble line. You’ve seen what must be done. The Order is bound to fail filled with pitiful blood traitors and weak-willed blood minglers. You will do what we’ve always known you were meant to do,reclaim your rightful place, Sirius.”

Walburga’s lips curled into a cold smile, her voice smooth and firm. “We will restore your honor, my son. Your disgrace will be wiped clean. We’ve always believed you’d return to us . You carry the legacy of the Blacks, you have the strength, the true blood that can’t be contained. You are destined to fulfill your duties as the next heir of House Black. And we’ll see to it that you rise beyond your disgrace.”Sirius's pulse quickened. His chest swelled with a mixture of pride and fear, the emotions blending into something sharp, something driven by his desperation to prove himself worthy. “I’m ready. I’ll make you proud, I swear it.”

“You’ll be restored, Sirius,” Orion reaffirmed , his voice commanding and firm. “Your disgrace will be undone. I told your mother that I  always believed you’d return. You have the blood of the Blacks in you, dear boy. The blood that doesn’t bend. The blood of the old line. You cannot be broken. You will rise again. You’ll no longer be viewed as weak, as a disappointment.”

“Your destiny is far greater than that,” Walburga agreed, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You have the blood of a killer, Sirius,” Walburga said softly, almost soothingly, as she stepped closer. “A killer and a ruthless one at that. You’ve never belonged among Dumbledore’s band of misguided fools. They could never accept you not when your talents run deeper than they ever could comprehend. You are a blade, my dear boy, a weapon forged to cut through anything in your path, sharp and unforgiving. Yet, you've dulled your edge in the company of those Gryffindors, so consumed by their hollow opinions, so eager to mold you into something soft, something they can tame. You’ve hidden your true nature beneath their laughter and their false sense of righteousness, as if bending to their ideas will protect you from who you were born to be. But deep down, you know, the blade you once were, the one that cut through lies and weakness, still lies within you. You just need to sharpen it once more.”

Sirius swallowed hard, the accusation searing into his chest. His hands trembled at his sides. He’d hidden this part of himself, the darker side, beneath the charm and politeness his so-called ‘friends’ expected from him. The witty remarks, the smiles, the easygoing demeanour, all of it a facade to fit in with the Gryffindor crowd. To avoid the scrutiny of those who couldn’t handle the true nature buried beneath his surface.

Now, his family didn’t see a failure. They saw… something different. They saw potential, power, and a future worth reclaiming. Sirius’ fists trembled, the rage simmering just beneath his skin. He felt the heat of their words, but he couldn’t let it break him, not yet. These were his parents, the people he’d been raised to fear and respect, what they wanted from him was simple. Power. Loyalty. He could see it in their eyes: their hunger, their need to restore their family’s place in society. He was here for a cause and he will play the role of the perfect son if it means that his friends can come out of this war alive.

Sirius clenched his jaw, his gaze locked onto his mother’s—a cold, sharp glare, yet beneath it lay something far more desperate. The room around him seemed to shrink, the weight pressing in expectations, judgments, suffocating him. His family, once distant and indifferent, had drawn him in, dragging him closer to something darker. They didn’t want mere loyalty, they wanted to claim him, to own every part of him. And worst of all, they were watching, waiting measuring how far he was willing to go.But he would do it all willingly. For the greater good. For the cause.Sirius swallowed hard, his voice steady yet laced with bitter conviction. “Yes, Mother.”

Walburga’s eyes sparkled with delight as she let out a shrill, delighted squeal. She clasped her hands together, her voice high-pitched and almost frantic with excitement. “Oh, we must celebrate this return! My dear boy, you’re finally home, where you belong. And now… we must prepare for your official debut. A ball,yes, the debutante ball , it will be the perfect way to announce you back into pureblood society.”

Her gaze swept across the lavish, dimly lit drawing room, where intricate tapestries hung from the walls, each one depicting ancient family history and dark, twisted symbols. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the room as the house-elves scurried about, setting the table for what promised to be a grand and ostentatious feast.

“I’ll have the house adorned with the finest decorations,” Walburga continued, her voice sharp and commanding. “Silver, black, the finest velvet and lace, everything worthy of the Black family. And the guests…” She turned toward Sirius, her eyes narrowing slightly, a calculating gleam now evident. “All the right people must be invited our allies, the old families, the Death Eaters on the rise. They’ll see you, see what you’ve become. No longer a boy swayed by foolish, soft emotions. No longer restrained by that weak Order of yours.”

Sirius swallowed hard, his fingers twitching slightly at his sides. The weight of it all felt suffocating, like chains tightening around him. The decorations, the elaborate rituals , everything spoke of power, of a world built on influence and fear. And yet, beneath it all, he could feel their expectations, those eager, probing eyes watching, waiting for him to slip up, to prove himself.

“I’ll restore you to your rightful place,” Walburga said, stepping closer, her voice softening but no less sharp. “Your disgrace will be erased, your position elevated. You are destined to reclaim what was always yours, the legacy of the Blacks. You carry the blood of a true pure-blooded wizard. A killer. Ruthless. Something this Order and its bleeding-heart friends can never understand. You were born for this, Sirius. To rise above and to lead. To fulfil your destiny.”

Sirius’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he felt the sting of those words, born to lead, born to rise above. His mother’s eyes were unwavering, but he knew what she wanted, what she expected. She believed he would kneel to her will, that he would accept the role fate had thrust upon him without resistance.

But it wasn’t for the bloodline, for the title, for the pure-blood legacy. No… Sirius knew better. He had a mission,one whispered to him in secret, one that burned in his chest like a consuming fire. He wasn’t here to submit. He was here to play their game, to use their ambition, their power, to serve a cause far greater.

“I’ll do what’s necessary,” Sirius said, his voice low and deliberate, hiding none of the cold certainty that had begun to consume him. “For the greater good.”

Walburga’s eyes narrowed slightly, her smile twitching into something sharp. She reached out, a hand lightly brushing his arm, but her touch was possessive, almost suffocating. “Yes… for the greater good,” she echoed, her voice thick with meaning. “And soon, everyone will know our family, our name, our cause. They’ll see what you’ve become, my dear boy.”

Sirius swallowed again, forcing himself to remain still, to keep his expression neutral. He could feel the anticipation, the carefully controlled eagerness in her gaze. And he knew what came next, what this ball would represent. It would be more than a mere celebration. It would be a declaration, a public assertion of his return to his rightful place.

But beneath the glittering surface, he would use it. Use their arrogance, their trust. Play the role they wanted him to be until the moment came to strike.

“To the ball, then,” Walburga said, turning away with a triumphant gleam in her eyes. “A night of glamour, of power, and of course… of bloodlines. You’ll show everyone who you who you’ve always been.”Sirius clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white, but he nodded silently. Yes… he would show them. And in doing so, he would ensure that Dumbledore’s message reached its mark ,he would infiltrate this world of darkness, earn their trust, and ultimately, bring it all crumbling down from within.

As the preparations began in earnest, servants rushing to prepare for the grand ball, Sirius couldn’t help but feel the weight of it all settling heavily on his shoulders. The decorations, the lavish feast, the dancing… everything designed to showcase power, status, and loyalty. But beneath the gilded surface, he knew the truth this ball was a trap, a grand illusion spun to hide what lay beneath. And when the night arrived, he would play his part. Not for love, not for acceptance, but to fulfill the mission Dumbledore had set before him. He would use their expectations, their false pride, to his advantage , to expose their weakness, their lies, and ultimately, to bring their world to ruin.

The Black family ball was a sight to behold an event steeped in centuries of tradition , luxury, and dark grandeur. The large, vaulted halls of Grimmauld Place were transformed into a theater of elegance, with long tables set with silverware that gleamed under crystal chandeliers. The walls seemed alive, adorned with portraits of past Blacks,many stern and unforgiving, watching silently as their descendants moved like puppets in the dance of pureblood aristocracy.

Sirius entered the grand ballroom, flanked by his parents. His mind spun, taking in every detail, every subtle nod, every whispered conversation that oozed with power and expectation. The Black family crest gleamed in gold on the banners that draped from the ceiling, while candlelight flickered off silver candelabras, casting a shimmering glow on the elegantly dressed guests.

At the far end of the room, the ornate Black Family tapestry hung, embroidered with the ancient names of bloodline after bloodline, each woven into the threads of Dark magic. This was the heart of his new reality, where the purity of bloodline was everything. And tonight, they celebrated the return of Sirius Black to his rightful place.

The family gathered around, uncles, aunts, cousins, all of them seated in stark pride, their faces painted with smug superiority. The Death Eater, those on the order’s and ministry’s wanted list, were present, some openly laughing, others exchanging quiet, sinister words, their robes dark and foreboding.

Sirius’s stomach churned as he observed them. They smiled at him, congratulating him, patting him on the back, as if he had finally seen the “true” path. They saw him as a lost sheep finally reclaimed, someone who had finally “seen the light.” The irony of it all : none of them realized they, too, were brainwashed. They thought they were serving a higher purpose, following someone righteous. But they were just as blind as the Order. Only now, Sirius had to play along pretend he believed every word, every action. They hadn’t invited him to share a feast out of love or kinship, they wanted him because he was useful.

Sirius followed his parents into the fray, his eyes scanning the room. The tension was thick, but excitement bubbled beneath the surface. His heart raced, he was finally here, standing among his enemies as if he was one of their own. And soon, he would be initiated into their ranks, welcomed into the fold.

The Black family matriarch, Walburga, beamed at her son, seated beside her at the head of the table. Orion Black, his father, sat at the opposite end, his sharp eyes never leaving Sirius for too long. The Death Eaters milled about, gathered in small clusters, speaking in low voices. They seemed to watch him, sizing him up.

To Sirius’s right sat Bellatrix Lestrange. She was poised and elegant, her dark robes fitting snugly around her figure, her long hair twisted into an intricate braid that shimmered in the candlelight. She leaned slightly toward him, a smile on her face, one of calculated amusement, laced with something far more dangerous.

“You were always my favorite, you know,” she purred, her voice low and melodic. “But you had the audacity to leave us. To abandon your family. We needed you.” Her tone was playful, but there was a subtle undercurrent of resentment , one that wasn’t easily missed.

Sirius clenched his jaw, forcing himself to remain composed. “I got the message, Bella.” His voice was steady, though his fingers trembled slightly beneath the table. “But next time, perhaps you could speak to me rather than going on a murder spree?”

Bellatrix’s smile widened, maddness flashing in her eyes. “Oh, but I did it all for you, cousin. I had to hurt so many of your friends so that you can get my message.”

Sirius’s stomach churned at her words. The insinuation, the veiled threats, it wasn’t lost on him. “I’m not sure that’s the way to make friends,and don’t act like you don’t enjoy it Bella ,” he muttered, his voice edged with sarcasm.

“Oh, you misunderstand me,” Bellatrix replied, leaning even closer, her voice softening to something almost sweet. “It’s not about friendship, dear. It’s about family. You have to understand we are stronger together. One Black. One cause. No more distractions.” She reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against his arm. “I always knew you’d come back to us. You have our blood, Sirius. The blood of a killer. Ruthless. It can’t be tamed by those pitiful Order members. Your ‘friends’ in Gryffindor are so naive, so weak.”

Sirius's throat tightened. The sharp edge of Bellatrix’s words cut deeper than she intended, slicing into the doubts that had been gnawing at him for years. But he held his ground. “I’m done with Dumbledore and his so-called resistance. The Order is weak. A failure.” Bellatrix’s smile deepened.

“Finally, you see it. You’re no fool, Sirius. You belong here. With us. Where you’re respected. Understanding our cause... embracing it.” Her voice was thick with double entendre, dripping with something darker. “We’ll show you what true power is. No more hiding. No more pretending.”

Narcissa Malfoy, seated on Bellatrix’s other side, cleared her throat gently, but her tone carried a reprimanding edge. “Enough, Bella. He’s back now. That’s what matters. We’re glad to have you with us once more.”

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes slightly, her pouting fading, but her smile remained. “Yes, we’ve missed you, Sirius. Lucius was growing lonely without you. It’s good for the family to work together, to align ourselves in the same cause. No more divided loyalties. We will all be safe now.”

Sirius glanced at Narcissa, catching the subtle shift in her gaze ,something far colder than her words let on. It was a look that suggested more, that hinted at motives beyond mere familial unity. But Sirius held his tongue, not yet ready to pry into what lay beneath her smooth facade.

But before he could dissect her words, Regulus, his younger brother, finally broke in from across the table.

“Welcome back, brother mine,” Regulus said, his voice firm but filled with warmth. He pushed his chair back slightly, stepping forward with a broad smile. “It’s good to see you again.”

Sirius’s heart swelled at the sight of his brother, so familiar yet distant after so many years apart. He rose from his seat, a genuine smile breaking through the façade. They embraced briefly, and for a moment, it felt like the world outside—Grimmauld Place and its dark secret disappeared.

Regulus leaned in close, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Why did you come back?” he asked quietly, his eyes searching Sirius’s face. “You should’ve stayed away.”

Sirius’s smile faltered. “I can’t, Regulus. I’m here. You should be happy.” Regulus sighed, his brow furrowing. “I’m ecstatic, brother. Truly.” But the bitterness beneath those words didn’t escape Sirius’s notice. He let go of his brother, his heart heavy. “After everything…” he muttered to himself, more than to Regulus.

The conversation soon shifted back to darker matters of power, alliances, and the future. Bellatrix leaned in once more, this time more openly, her smile turning sly. “So, Sirius, have you thought about what we’ve discussed?” She tilted her head, her eyes glimmering with mischief. “The possibility of you joining us... truly joining. Pledging yourself to something greater than Dumbledore’s misguided cause.”

Sirius’s mind reeled. The offer ,no, the command,was clear. Join them. Align with the Death Eaters. Renounce Dumbledore and his so-called light.

“I’m ready,” Sirius said, his voice steady but filled with quiet resolve. “I’m done hiding. Done with playing their games. I’m ready to pledge myself to someone who can actually use my talents, someone who understands power.”

Bellatrix’s grin widened, and Narcissa leaned in slightly, her eyes sharp. “Good. It’s about time. We’ve all been waiting for this moment.” Bellatrix’s fingers brushed Sirius’s again, lingering longer this time. “You have so much to offer, Sirius. We could do so much together.”

“And we need each other,” Narcissa added smoothly, her eyes flicking toward Bellatrix and then back to Sirius. “Strength in unity. No more whispers. No more secrets.”

Sirius felt the weight of their expectations pressing down on him, suffocating yet intoxicating. They spoke of power of true power. Of standing alongside those who saw no hesitation in their pursuit of darkness.

After the meal, as the celebration began to wind down, Sirius excused himself from the table, feeling utterly drained from the façade he had kept up throughout the evening. His mind swirled with thoughts and reminder of who he was supposed to be, what he had to hide. Back in his room, where faded muggle posters from his past still clung to the walls, he allowed himself a rare moment of solace.

Sitting down heavily on his bed, Sirius let out a long, pent-up breath. His shoulders sagged, and for the first time since arriving at Grimmauld Place, he allowed himself to feel the weight of the lies he had told. The guilt. The fear. The ache of being forced into a world where nothing seemed genuine anymore.

Tears welled in his eyes, blurring the edges of his vision. His fingers trembled as he wiped them away, but sleep wouldn’t come, not yet. His mind was too restless.

A knock echoed softly at the door.

Sirius wiped his eyes hastily and glanced toward it. His brow furrowed in confusion, for there was no reason for anyone to disturb him at this hour. But when he opened the door, his heart stopped for a moment.

There, lying neatly on the floor, was a familiar green envelope, a single piece of parchment, addressed to him in neat, cold script.

To Sirius Black, Heir of the House of Black

Sirius’s stomach twisted as he picked it up, dread settling heavily in his chest. He cracked open the seal, reading the words inside.

You are summoned to meet with me. The time has come for you to take your rightful place. Come to the designated location at midnight. You will not be alone.

Sirius’s breath hitched. The weight of the message sunk into his bones. This was it, the moment where everything would change. He had no choice but to comply. He clutched the letter tightly, his mind racing.

As the night closed in, the letter burned  in Sirius’s hand, the truth of his choices began to settle in and with which  the true initiation into a world he never thought he’d willingly embrace had begun.