Chapter 3- Bloodquill
Sirius trudged down the dimly lit hallways of the castle toward Umbridge’s stuffy office. The halls were mostly deserted, with dinner finished half an hour ago most of the students had headed back to their common rooms to relax or to the library to get some extra studying in before curfew, and yet here Sirius was, on his way to detention with Professor Umbridge.
He didn’t regret the detention one bit. If anything, Umbridge had barely gotten a taste of what he had to say about her and what she taught in her classroom.
Umbridge was prejudiced beyond belief, holding a disdain for anything that wasn’t pure and perfect in her little world. She seemed to have a problem with almost every kind of person or magical creature that wasn’t a magical born wizard, with muggle borns and werewolves sitting at the top of her list. Sirius had wondered if she was in leagues with the Dark Lord and his followers, but she didn’t really seem like the type, like she wouldn’t be one to be ordered around by a bunch of creepy dark wizards. Umbridge must just be awful of her own accord. How fitting.
Considering who he was friends with and who he held the closest, Sirius always felt the need to stand up to Umbridge when she went off on her intolerant tangents. His friendships with Lily Evans and Mary Macdonald were an obvious reason why he would be so vocal about Umbridge’s prejudice against muggle borns, but Umbridge needn't know why he was so vocal and defensive of werewolves in her class.
Sirius wondered what sort of punishment the old toad lady had lined up for him this evening. “Lines” had been James’s guess. James had been stuck with a night of detention with Umbridge sometime about a month ago and he’d been made to write lines for hours.
“She’d said something like I’d write ‘until it sinks in’, insane right?” James chuckled, “I ran out of parchment! My wrist hurt for a week afterwards!”
“You sure that’s the only reason your wrist was sore Prongs?” Sirius grinned before getting smacked upside the head with a rolled up copy of Witch Weekly that James had been reading.
“Why are you even reading that?” Sirius asked, eyeing the magazine humorously.
“Lily lent it to me!” James blushed, “She knows I like to do the quizzes, and… it’s at least some sort of… progress?”
Sirius sighed, “Oh you hopeless romantic you, you’ll snag her one of these days, you just have to be patient!”
“Oh easy for you to say! You’ve already got Moony wrapped around your little finger-”
“Correction, he has me wrapped around his finger, I’m pretty much putty in his hands, you know this!”
James laughed, “You two are so much more fun now that you're not dancing around each other. I was miserable watching you both pine for years and now I reap my reward: hearing the juicy details from both perspectives!”
“You perv!” Sirius cackled, and James joined in the laughter.
Sirius was snapped out of his thoughts as he finally reached the door to Professor Umbridge’s office, he knocked and entered after a sickeningly sweet “Come in!” was delivered from the other side of the door.
Sirius was met with a tidal wave of nauseating perfume that was almost as suffocating as the plush and pink of the entire room. Umbridge sat at her desk, mixing sugar cubes into a cup of tea, smiling a sweet smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
In front of Umbridge’s desk sat a smaller desk and chair obviously meant for Sirius, a set of parchment and black quills already set up on the desk, James had been right.
I guess it’s time to write “I will not call out bigots” five hundred times, how dull.
Sirius took his seat at the desk and Umbridge set down her teacup to address him, “Mr. Black, would you like to tell me why you think you are here?”
“Erm… speaking out of turn?”
“Not quite. You see, Mr. Black, students of your social stature must be held to a much higher standard when it comes to the company they keep and what they choose to say and do.”
Sirius fought the urge to roll his eyes. Umbridge sounded just like his mother, droning on about status and maintaining image, thank Merlin he’d escaped that hellhole.
“Now Mr. Black, you seem to be gathering a concerning amount of sympathy for creatures much below your own status.” Umbridge continued, rising from her chair and crossing to stand in front of her desk, now only standing a few feet away from him.
Now I’ll have to take extra care not to roll my eyes at another bigoted speech, here we go again.
“Now, you may not have earned my respect, especially from the way you continue to act and present yourself in my class. There is one thing, however, about you that I do respect, your name. Without that name you would be worth less than nothing to me with the way you conduct yourself, just another obnoxious clown scurrying about with nothing of any use to offer anyone in our world. A pity that the legacy of the noble and most ancient house of Black should fall to a disgraceful whelp like you. All that good breeding gone to waste, what would your poor mother say?”
Sirius felt a pit form in his stomach, almost like a festering wound that had been reopened.
She really did sound just like his mother. Why was he letting her get to him so much? Did she know he had run away to live with the Potters over Christmas break to escape the very family she was praising beyond high praise?
What would Mother say?
Stop it! You don’t care what she thinks of you! She is out of your life now! Sirius thought, struggling to keep his face completely neutral, not wanting to give Umbridge the satisfaction of knowing that she’d hit a nerve.
“Now Mr. Black, I think you could use a little bit of reminding of who you are and who you are to associate yourself with.” Umbridge smirked slightly at him, as if she knew something he did not. “This evening you will be doing some lines for me Mr. Black so that the message of your wrongdoing really sticks and you learn to do better.”
Umbridge gestured to the parchment and quills in front of him on the desk, Sirius picked up one of the black quills.
“Professor? You haven’t given me any ink.”
Umbridge giggled lightly at this comment, “Oh you won’t be needing any ink, Mr. Black.” Circling back to the other side of her desk again, retrieving her teacup as she sat back down.
“What am I to write Professor?” Sirius asked, anxious already. Perhaps he was slightly shaken by her comments about him and his family name earlier. He desperately tried to maintain his well-practiced mask of neutrality, but it was wavering slightly.
Umbridge grinned as if this was a question she had been looking forward to answering all evening, “Your family motto, Toujours Pur.”
Sirius nearly dropped the quill.
“Yes, that should do nicely. It has always been my favorite motto of the sacred twenty-eight, ‘always pure’ hm hm” Umbridge lightly giggled “Quite fitting for the lesson you will be learning this evening, don’t you think?”
It felt like a thick fog had moved over Sirius’s brain, something inside him felt like it was breaking.
“How many times?” Sirius managed to squeak out, his voice definitely wavering this time, too wrapped up in his own swimming thoughts to notice the triumphant grin Umbridge gave.
“Let’s say… as long as it takes for the message to sink in.”
Sirius didn’t think he could do this, everything seemed to be flooding back to him all at once with those two simple words. Every harsh word, every plate thrown, every glass shattered, every unforgivable curse hurled his way after making a simple mistake came flooding back to him at this desk in Umbridge’s office. It was like he could feel himself start to slowly unravel.
“Mr. Black, please begin your writing.” Umbridge’s words had an obvious edge to them, he was still in detention, he had to do this.
Sirius began shakily, his elegant handwriting dancing across the page forming words he had written countless times at his old home, words he had sworn never to write again.
Toujours Pur
Toujours Pur
Toujours Pur
Toujours Pur
Toujours Pur
Sirius began to feel a small stinging sensation on the back of his left hand, the hand he wasn’t currently writing with.
Ignore it, the sooner this is over with, the better, just keep writing.
Toujours Pur
Toujours Pur
Toujours Pur
The small stinging began to feel like a burning, like someone was taking a hot needle and scratching across the back of his hand, but Sirius forced himself to keep his eyes on the page, continuing the lines, over and over.
Toujours Pur
Toujours Pur
Toujours Pur
All Sirius could hear was the furious screams of his mother, throwing things at him, hurling curses at him. He had been sorted into Gryffindor. He had been associating with blood traitors and mudbloods. He was a disgrace to their family name and everything they stood for.
Lacero! Crucio!
The curses echoed in his ears, bouncing around in his skull, making his head pound as he was bombarded with a flood of memories.
Toujours Pur
Toujours Pur
Toujours Pur
Tears stung behind Sirius’s eyes, but he fought hard not to let them fall, he couldn’t let Umbridge win.
Toujours Pur
Toujours Pur
Toujours Pur
His mother was screaming at him again, slapping him across the face, hitting him with unforgivable after unforgivable. They had found out he was queer. Someone had told them. He was filthy. He was a disgrace to the family name.
Toujours Pur
Toujours Pur
Toujours Pur
Sirius felt something warm and wet running across his hand, dripping onto the table, it was probably his own sweat.
Just get it over with already! Make it stop!
Toujours Pur
Toujours Pur
Toujours Pur
Pathetic, wasteful, ignorant, weak, impulsive, filthy, repulsive, disgraceful.
Always Pure
Always Pure
Always Pure
Waste of space, filthy and repulsive, disgrace to the family.
Unlovable.
Always Pure
Always Pure
Always Pure
He was pathetic, he couldn’t even handle the thought of his past.
He’d left Regulus to fend for himself in that living hell.
Pathetic.
Always Pure
Always Pure
Always Pure
How could Remus even stand to be with him? He knew what a coward Sirius was. He had cried to Remus about his predicament with Regulus on more than one occasion. If Sirius couldn’t even protect his own brother from his family, how was Remus supposed to trust he could protect him and his secret from the rest of the wizarding world?
Unlovable.
Pathetic.
Coward.
Toujours Pur
Toujours Pur
Toujours Pur
The tears finally won over, a single tear falling down his cheek, he was pathetic.
He felt like he couldn’t breathe.
The burning sensation in his hand was blinding him with pain.
Toujours Pur
Toujours Pur
Toujours -
“Alright then Mr. Black, that will be enough.” Umbridge’s obnoxiously high voice cut through the fog. While it did nothing to soothe him, it did help Sirius get his bearings.
Sirius quickly dropped the quill, bringing up an arm to wipe away the tear that had fallen and any remaining tears in his eyes. He quickly stood and gathered his belongings, trying to compose himself in case he had to face Umbridge again.
He turned to leave when he heard a sharp Hem hem from behind him. Sirius turned back to face the defense against the dark arts professor, hoping she couldn’t see his red-rimmed eyes.
“Do take care to wash up before bed Mr. Black, I hope that this message has left an impression on you, and that your behavior will reflect what you have learned this evening.”
“Yes professor.” Sirius mumbled, feeling absolutely drained, walking out of the office as if in a trance. He just wanted to turn a corner and run, find somewhere to hide.
Sirius made his way to the door, hearing Umbridge humming sweetly was almost eerie as he left the room.
He quickly found the nearest bathroom, puzzled by Umbridge’s last instructions to him and the throbbing pain in his left hand, which still felt wet.
Sirius took in his reflection as he turned on the sink, thinking of how he could try to conceal his red-tinged eyes from the other Marauders before he got back to the dorm, not really paying attention to what he was doing until he felt a sharp sting of pain in his hand when it touched the water.
Sirius looked down at the sink, startled by the sight of blood, his own blood, tainting the water in the sink.
Idiot. Sirius thought, how the hell had he not noticed the bloody mess?
He had noticed the pain, of course, but had been too wrapped up in the memories of the haunting Black manor to even realize he was bleeding until now.
Begrudgingly, Sirius thrust his bloodied hand under the steady flow of water still pouring in the sink, wincing and squeezing his eyes shut when the sharp pricks of pain returned.
Turning off the water, and drying his hands, Sirius finally got a good look at the back of his left hand for the first time that night and immediately felt his stomach lurch.
No.
Nonononononononononononononononononono
Sirius barely had time to hurl his body into one of the stalls before he was hacking and coughing, vomiting up his dinner with heaving sobs.
It’s not- she couldn’t-
But the truth was staring him straight in the face.
On the back of his hand, in a jagged version of his neat, loopy handwriting were the words that had haunted him since he was eleven, since the moment he was born, even.
Toujours Pur
A perfect reminder. He could almost hear his mother’s wicked cackle in his ears.
He could never truly escape.
He could never truly escape the horrors of the noble and most ancient house of Black.
Sirius lay there in a heap on the bathroom floor, wishing more than anything that some invisible force would swallow him up and take him away forever.