The Black Brothers

Dorian went back to his office , and in mid way he found his daughter looking through books and old photo albums “What are you reading sweetie, it's late, you should be sleeping?” He asked and walked over to his daughter “Just some of your old books dad, and some family albums” she said looking up at her dad, completely avoiding the other question, Dorian sighed and caressed her hair as he glanced at the photos and books “Dad, why are you ashamed of talking about your family?” she asked looking up at him “ I’m not ashamed sweetheart, it's just…complicated” he said trying to put it simply and without details “Dad, im old enough to know , you don’t need to hide things from me” she huffed and looked up at her dad.
Dorian sighed, sinking into the armchair next to his daughter. He picked up one of the photo albums, his fingers tracing over the cracked leather cover as if it held memories he wasn’t quite ready to face. The Blacks were a complicated family, a name steeped in both power and shame, and Dorian had spent most of his adult life trying to carve out an identity separate from their legacy.
“You think you’re ready, but you don’t know what you’re asking,” he said softly, glancing at his daughter’s determined face.
“I am ready, Dad,” she pressed. “I’ve seen the family tree. I just don’t understand why you won’t talk about it.Like uncle Sirius was good right?Then why is his name burned?”
Dorian let out a low chuckle, though there was no humor in it. “Sirius was one of the few bright spots in a very dark history. But the others… they were consumed by that darkness. And the thing about family, sweetheart, is that it’s not always something you can shake off.”
She furrowed her brow. “You’re not like them, though. You’re kind, and you’re good.”
Dorian smiled faintly and opened the photo album. The first image was of a group of Blacks gathered in the grand parlor of 12 Grimmauld Place. The edges of the photograph were curled, and the moving figures seemed to avoid looking at each other, a silent testimony to the fractures within the family.
“I tried to leave all of this behind,” he admitted, turning the page to a picture of a young Bellatrix, Narcissa, and Andromeda. Andromeda’s smile was soft, an echo of a time before the family divided itself over blood purity. “But leaving doesn’t mean forgetting.”
Elizabeth leaned closer, her curiosity only growing. “What happened with auntie Andy? I heard she got disowned.”
Dorian hesitated. “She fell in love with someone who wasn’t a pureblood—a Muggle-born. Ted Tonks. It was the bravest and most foolish thing anyone in our family could do. And she paid the price for it. But she… she was happy, just like your uncle Sirius.”
“Did you agree with them?” Elizabeth asked.
“I admired their courage,” Dorian said after a pause. “But I didn’t know what to do with it back then. I was stuck trying to live up to expectations I didn’t believe in, trying to distract my mother and father to leave Sirius and Regulus alone so they could have their own future, and it tore me apart.”
“Is that why you left?” She looked at the photo and then at him.
He nodded. “I left because I didn’t want the Black name to define you. I didn’t want you to feel the weight of it. But I see now… maybe I’ve made a mistake by not telling you the truth. It’s not something to be ashamed of, but it’s something to understand.”
She flipped through the album, stopping at a photo of a boy with messy dark hair and a cheeky grin. “Who’s this?”
Dorian’s face softened as he looked at the picture. “That’s your uncle Sirius. He always had a way of laughing in the face of all this madness. He saw through it long before I did.”
The room fell silent, save for the soft crackle of the fire. “Sweetheart,” he said after a moment, “if there’s one thing I want you to take from all this, it’s that you get to choose who you want to be. You can honor the parts of this family that matter—the love, the courage—and leave the rest behind.But never forget that even what people might say about us, about being a Black, they don’t know the whole story and the reality of it, so don’t listen to them.”
She looked up at him, her expression thoughtful. “Do you regret it, leaving them behind?”
He hesitated, running a hand through his hair as he considered her question. “No,” he said finally. “I don’t regret leaving, but I do regret not telling you about it sooner. I thought I was protecting you, but maybe I was just running from it myself.”
His daughter leaned forward, closing the album with care. “You don’t have to run anymore, Dad. I’m here. We’re in this together, right?”
Dorian’s heart swelled as he looked at her. She was the best part of him—hope and courage wrapped up in one determined young soul. “We are,” he said, pulling her into a hug. “Always.”
She smiled against his chest, her voice muffled as she spoke. “I think Sirius would’ve liked me. We both have a knack for being stubborn.”
Dorian chuckled, his laugh light for the first time in what felt like years. “Oh, he would’ve adored you. And he would’ve been proud of you—just like I am. And so would have been Regulus”
Elizabeth looked at him”Did Regulus also leave the house?” she asked curiously
Dorian’s smile softened at the mention of Regulus, a bittersweet ache stirring in his chest. He leaned back slightly, his hand brushing over the closed album. “Regulus… he didn’t leave in the way Sirius did. His path was quieter, but no less brave. He stayed, trying to fix things from the inside. It cost him everything.”
Elizabeth’s brow furrowed, her curiosity deepening. “What do you mean?”
Dorian sighed, his gaze distant as he spoke. “Regulus joined the Death Eaters, like so many in our family. At first, he believed in it—the lies, the promises of power and purity. But then he saw what Voldemort really was, what he was willing to do. Regulus couldn’t stand by and let it continue.”
Her eyes widened. “So… what did he do?”
“He found out about one of Voldemort’s greatest secrets—a Horcrux, but before that he..he left and stayed a few years with Sirius and his friends, and well had his kind of happy ever after, in a way.” Dorian explained, his voice heavy. “The Horcrux was an object containing a piece of his soul. Regulus stole it, intending to destroy it. But… it wasn’t that simple. The magic guarding it was dark, deadly. Regulus gave his life trying to stop Voldemort, knowing no one would ever know his sacrifice. Except for Kreacher.”
Elizabeth’s lips parted, her voice barely a whisper. “He was a hero.”
“He was,” Dorian said, a quiet pride in his tone. “He was a boy trying to do the right thing in a world that demanded the worst of him. And in the end, he chose courage over fear. Just like Sirius, in his own way.”
Elizabeth leaned closer, her hand resting gently on her father’s. “Why didn’t anyone talk about him? Why doesn’t anyone remember what he did?”
“Because the Black family was too proud, too blinded by their own ideals, to honor someone who turned against them, leaving to join Sirius and Dumbledore's army,” Dorian said with a sigh. “And because heroes like Regulus don’t ask for recognition. They do what’s right, even if no one ever knows, but for them.”
Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully. “Dumbledore’s army? What's that?.”
Dorian blinked, realizing his slip. “Ah, not Dumbledore’s Army, sweetheart,” he said with a small smile. “That was something else, much later. I meant the Order of the Phoenix. It was a group led by Dumbledore, a resistance against Voldemort during the First Wizarding War. Sirius was part of it. Regulus…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “Regulus wasn’t. Not officially. He was working alone.”
Elizabeth tilted her head, intrigued. “Why didn’t he join them? If he wanted to stop Voldemort, wouldn’t it have made sense to work with Dumbledore and the others?”
Dorian sighed, the weight of the memory settling on his shoulders. “Regulus couldn’t. The moment he turned against Voldemort, he was marked for death. He didn’t trust anyone—not even Sirius—because he knew how dangerous it was. He thought if he stayed quiet, if he worked from the shadows, he’d have a better chance. He didn’t have the luxury of Dumbledore’s protection. All he had was Kreacher and his own determination.”
Elizabeth frowned, her fingers tracing the edge of the photo album. “That’s so sad. He was all alone.”
“He was,” Dorian admitted. “But he believed it was worth it. He thought that if he could destroy even one piece of Voldemort’s power, it might make a difference. He wasn’t wrong, even if it took years for anyone to realize it.”
Elizabeth looked up at him, her voice firm. “I want to be like that. I want to love what’s right, no matter what it costs.”
Dorian’s heart swelled, and he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You already do, sweetheart. And I think Regulus and Sirius would be proud to see the person you’re becoming.”
Elizabeth stayed quiet for a moment, resting her head against Dorian’s arm. But her curiosity got the better of her. “Dad… what about you? You’ve told me about Sirius and Regulus, but what were you like as a kid? You never talk about yourself.”
Dorian stiffened slightly, his smile strained. “Me? Oh, I wasn’t as excited as Sirius or as focused as Regulus. I was… quieter. Spent most of my time with Mother. She understood me better than anyone.”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “Grandma Walburga?”
He nodded, his tone almost reverent. “Yes, she was a remarkable woman. Strong, intelligent, fiercely devoted to the family. She didn’t tolerate weakness or failure, but that’s what made her so extraordinary. She made sure we understood what it meant to be a Black. What it meant to carry that legacy.”
Elizabeth frowned. “What do you mean by ‘didn’t tolerate weakness’? What did she do?”
Dorian hesitated, his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest. “She had her ways,” he said vaguely, his tone almost dismissive. “She demanded perfection. If you failed to meet her expectations, she let you know. Sometimes with words, sometimes… otherwise.”
Elizabeth’s stomach twisted. “Otherwise? Like what?”

He waved a hand as if it were nothing. “Oh, a slap, a hex, locking you in your room for a day or two. Nothing unreasonable. She had high standards, and she believed in discipline. It was how she showed she cared. She wanted me to be strong.”
Elizabeth stared at him, horrified. “That’s not caring, Dad. That’s abuse.”

Dorian blinked at her, visibly taken aback. “Abuse? No, no, it wasn’t like that. She loved me. I was her favorite. She used to tell me I was the only one who truly understood her. She confided in me, trusted me with things she wouldn’t tell Sirius or Regulus. That wasn’t abuse—it was love.”
Elizabeth’s voice trembled. “She hit you, locked you away, called you weak. That’s not love, Dad. That’s control.”

Dorian’s jaw tightened, his expression conflicted. “You don’t understand,” he said sharply, then softened when he saw the look on her face. “It was different back then. She wanted the best for me. She saw something in me no one else did. When she said I was weak, it wasn’t to hurt me—it was to make me stronger. She believed in me.”
Elizabeth’s heart ached as she listened, seeing the cracks in his words, in the way his voice wavered just slightly. “Dad… you’re defending someone who hurt you. She didn’t believe in you; she wanted to control you. That’s not love. That’s manipulation.”

Dorian’s gaze dropped to the floor, his expression clouded. “You weren’t there,” he murmured, almost to himself. “You didn’t see the way she looked at me when I got something right. The pride in her eyes. I lived for that. For those moments when I felt… worthy.”

Elizabeth’s voice softened, but her words were firm. “You shouldn’t have had to earn her love, Dad. Love doesn’t come with conditions. It’s not something you have to prove.”
Dorian swallowed hard, his throat tightening. “Maybe,” he said quietly, the doubt creeping into his voice. “But she gave me so much. She taught me what it means to carry responsibility, to be part of something bigger than myself. Without her, I wouldn’t be who I am today.”

Elizabeth leaned forward, her eyes filled with both sadness and determination. “And who you are today, Dad, is someone who walked away from all of that. You left because you knew it wasn’t right. Maybe you don’t see it, but you’re stronger than she ever let you believe you could be.”

Dorian’s breath hitched, and he closed his eyes for a moment, the weight of her words settling over him. “I don’t know,” he said softly. “It’s hard to untangle it all. To see what was love and what wasn’t. But maybe… maybe you’re right.”

Elizabeth reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “You deserve better than what she gave you. And you’ve given me better. That’s what matters.”

Dorian looked at her, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, and he nodded. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he whispered. “That means more than you know.”
As they sat together in the flickering light of the fire, Dorian felt a part of the weight he’d carried for so long start to loosen, though the scars of his past remained. And for the first time, he wondered if letting go of the love he thought he’d needed all his life might be the key to finding the peace he truly deserved.