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1979  November 25, The Daily Prophet.

Sirius Black left Hogwarts and Britain at 14 years old. The affair was quick—one day Sirius Black was there and the next he wasn’t. Little has been said about the disappearance of this heir and the only hint that Sirius Black may still be alive is the fact that his younger brother—Regulus Black newly Slytherin graduate of Hogwarts: School of Magic and Wizardry—has not taken his place as heir. Or—shall I now say—his place as Lord since the death of Mr & Mrs Black last month.

But we, the people, are left with no concrete answers. Regulus Black has not taken on any title and Sirius Black has not made any grand entrance.  After Narcissa Malfoy—nee Black, an older cousin—undertook the funeral preparations, Regulus Black then proceeded to disappear himself.

People are restless—what is becoming of the backbones of our society. They are waiting to see what will become of the Noble And Ancient House of Black. Have they finally reached an end—will we witness the downfall of one of the ‘sacred’ 28?

I am here to deliver my readers from the oppression of uncertainty. I am here to tell you that Sirius Black is alive.

I set it upon myself when the late newly Lord & Lady Black died to find out just what happened 6 years. 

After the scandal that was Sirius’ sorting and the down spiral that was his first 2 years at Hogwarts (See The Undoer of the House Of Black by Rita Skeeter ), Walburga and Orion Black both decided that a change must be made because Sirius Black was an untameable force. So when Regulus Black entered his first year in Hogwarts, Sirius Black started his 3rd at Beauxbatons Academy Of Magic all the way in France never to return.

Until now.

You may be asking, ‘Rita how could the Heir that everyone has spent the last 6 years searching for just be right under our noises?’

Sirius Black was placed in the care of the previous Lord Arcturus and Lady Melania Black for the first 5 years of his disappearance before their death.

There are rumours of the strict leash the Late Lord and Lady had on their son Regulus and the cruelty they possessed but when compared to the previous Lord Arcturus and Lady Melania Black, they are nothing but light wizards. (See The Darker Lord of Black By Rita Skeeter )

It seems that all Sirius Black needed to fall into line was their ‘discipline’—or whatever you want to call it— and the rest fell right into the place under the influence of such figures.

No longer is there any question on who the next Lord of Black will be. What is now in question is what happened to the little boy whom appeared to be the ‘Black Sheep’? And who is the man in his place?

News travelled surprisingly slow from England to France. His parents were killed sometime between 31st of October and the 1st of November but Sirius and most of France were only told about their death the morning of the 3rd of November.

The news shocked him to be honest. In the back of his head, his parents were untouchable creatures who would never die similar to how he sees his grandparents even though they have already passed. Maybe it is his hatred for them or the knowledge of their cruelty that stops him from being able to see them as actual people with souls.

His parents’ death didn’t really affect Sirius that much. He hasn’t had much contact with his parents expect for a couple sparse evenings dotted throughout the years. There was no relationship between them and Sirius didn’t want to mourn any possible future where there was. What he did want to mourn was the loss of his brother whom he hadn’t seen for 6 years—6 of the most curial years in both his and his brother’s development into adults.

The worst thing the news of his parents’ death did was cancel his birthday plans as everyone assumed he would be busy either in grief or preparation. Sirius was busy with neither that day and so spent it painfully alone like he did most days since his graduation. Unlike his first 2 years at Hogwarts, Sirius was never allowed to make actual friendships under the watch of his grandparents. That might just be the most painful out of everything they did to him.

After that isolated and unproductive day, Sirius got word through one of the house elfs—whom never seemed to be around—that Narcissa, who was now a Malfoy, was taking control of the funeral which would be held within the week. Sirius let her take care of the preparations—he got his fill when he had to plan his grandparents’ funeral.

He spent the next week alone, doing nothing of any importance until the day of his parents’ funeral passed. Then he sent an owl to Regulus—Regulus whom he had thought of almost ritually every morning. He invited Regulus to say come over for a month to their late Grandparents house in France.

His answer was Regulus appearing at his doorstep the next day slightly after noon.

Regulus stayed with Sirius for the rest of the month. It was a painful period—there was anger between them, fear and pain.

The 2 brothers, who were more strangers than family, were faced with the humongous task of re-building the bridge that their family had burnt. They knew nothing of what it meant to be someone’s brother, nothing of who the other person was, nothing of how to help someone heal or even heal themself. They had no foundation to build upon, no skills to use, no materials to work with.

The only thing they had was Sirius’ insistence to get back his brother and Regulus’ longing for any sort family.

When the time came for Sirius and Regulus to prepare for their journey to England—back to that house—they left with the shaky framework of a bridge built on new foundations. There was still work to be done but they couldn’t wait for the construction to be finished. The waters were rising and they had to hope that this framework would hold their weight while they are still making it.

On November 30th, Sirius Black turned the Wizarding community of England--of a most Europe--on its head from his father’s old chair. He wrote a letter—a short letter to the head of the ministry of magic asking him to make sure the records where updated to show that he—Sirius Black—now took on the title Lord Sirius Black of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black.

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Everyone knew when Lord and Lady Black died, but Adien Rosier knew it personally. His uncle—Lord Rosier— talked about the event throughly and incessantly when it first hit the paper and then again when the deaths were ruled as casualties of an attempted revolt lead by some no-one named Tom Riddle—or Voldemort as he wanted to be called before the Dementors were let at him. In Lord Rosier’s eyes this was proof that certain half-bloods weren’t aware of the culture of the Wizarding world and were going to try to destroy everything they have worked for.

Adien bit his tongue through it all—he listened, nodded and interacted enough to make it seem like he actually shared Lord Rosier’s passion on the topic. Lord Rosier took him in to do just that—saved him from his orphan fate when his mother unexpectedly passed away not long after he was born.

Lord Rosier only stopped talking about the deaths during the funeral out of respect for the dead and respect for the son, though he couldn’t hold himself back from commenting to his actual son—Evan Rosier—about the absence of the supposed heir. Evan didn’t say anything on the topic but went on with the funeral and then left to talk to Regulus for a little while before the family went home.

The next day, Rosier received an early owl from Regulus who then was reported to have disappeared. Lord Rosier talked more but Evan Rosier stayed quiet until he had to leave for some out of country work in Germany.

The rest of the month was quiet—save for Lord Rosier—and Adien was almost reminiscing his school days which kept him away from Lord Rosier’s continuous dialogue. Adien had assumed that the rest of the year would go about the same until the political season started again—with nothing to do but listen to his Uncle talk himself hoarse because they both knew Adien would never not listen.

That was until the 30th, when the Wizarding world—from every corner of Europe—found out that Sirius Black has taken his place as Lord Black of The Noble and Ancient House of Black.

This kicked everyone into overdrive. Letters were sent Lord Black apologising for the late condolences, the ministry apologised for the late recognition of his birth-right, newspapers apologised for spreading false lies about his death. Early invitations for events in the upcoming seasons were sent out exclusively for him. Houses, ministry members and other political figures were already setting groundwork for treaties and alliances.

The House of Rosier was no different—Evan was pressed to come home in order for him to get close to Lord Back through his younger brother, Regulus Black. But Evan denied, saying he and Barty had to spend the political season in Germany like planned. After that Lord Rosier did every trick he could to ensure the friendly relationship between Evan and Regulus would gain an alliance between the House of Rosier and the House of Black.

Adien watched it all—amazed that the whole word was bending over backwards for a man they haven’t even seen and slightly envious. He knew the House of Black was powerful—everyone knew that—and he knew the extent of their power and riches so he wasn’t surprised Lord Black would have this effect. Still, he was in awe of it. 

Sirius Black, a no-body in their country with no reputable presence or history save for the 2 years he was allowed in the public eye had enough power to disrupt the natural order of everything.

Adien had never seen Sirius Black, never seen any pictures of his youth or even heard Regulus talk of him—honestly a part of him thinks Regulus himself doesn’t even know Sirius. All Adien knows of Sirius Black are the rumours from his old Hogwarts days—rumours that paint a picture of a really dangerous child. A really dangerous child who had grown into a man without an equal and unimaginable power.

That made Lord Black interesting to Adien Rosier.

The first couple days of December was full people tripping over themselves kiss up to Lord Black and, in a show of power that could only work positively for a Black, the next week was full of answers from him explaining how the unimaginable amount of correspondence he received upon his arrival delayed him from being able to promptly relay to everyone. His apologised were offered which everyone knew they were required to accept.

Adien then received a letter from Regulus inviting him over for lunch the next day just as the last wave of answers left the House of Black.

It wouldn’t be the first time Adien was invited to eat with Regulus. He and Regulus knew each other casually throughout the last year and a half of school due them both being close with Evan and the relationship continue after they graduated. But this will be the first time Adien is invited  to meet with Regulus alone without Evan, Barty or any of their other mutual friends.

Maybe it is due to Evan and Barty both being out of country—maybe Regulus was just lonely like Evan always says he is. It seems quite possible since Yule season is approaching and Houses are always expected to take a step back from society during the season. Lord Rosier says it is a way of Lord Black unofficially supporting the friendship between houses. Adien doesn’t disagree but that’t only because he can’t.

He meet with Regulus the next day around an hour or so before lunch. The grounds of the Black House are as beautiful as ever—large, luscious and lavish. Regulus is a little shy—looking around, talking softly and about quite random topics—but it is all in character for Regulus who often takes time to relax in front of people he is not extremely close to like Adien assumes he is.

The truth is that Regulus is Evan’s friend—this is their world—and Adien is the cousin Evan grew up with, despite how diminishing that feels. Regulus and him aren’t close but cordial and kind to each other for Evan’s sake. Regulus probably feels obligated to be friends with Adien due to his relationship Evan as the poor boy doesn’t understand what friendships require.

They enter the house after a walk around the grounds with shy conversation on Regulus’ side which is made up by Adien’s excellent skills in carrying a conversation.

A house-elf pops up in front of Adien and Regulus to tell them that lunch is ready and Regulus offers to find Lord Black. Excitement runs through Adien’s spine.

“Sirius is reading—though he should working,” Regulus says, a rolls of his eyes at the end of his sentence as he walks onward through the maze of the house the Rosier thinks only a Black can make sense of.

Adien follows, keeping his excitement hidden under his mask. He knew he would most probably meet Lord Black when he accepted the invitation. Lord Rosier schooled and lectured him on how to act and things to say. Adien hadn’t thought this… interest and awe would resurface when he faced the possibility of meeting Lord Black. It’s probably due to Regulus’ unintentional reminder of the difference between Lord Black and the rest of them.

Adien had to work but the Lord Black never has to do anything.

“He really hates the study…” Regulus says in a tone that makes it sound like he just confessed his deepest secret.

“Must be hard,” Adien says, he knows some of the story—everyone does. It is enough to make Regulus smile.

Regulus knocks on the door before opening it. There in the middle of the room half reclined on an expensive deep green couch sat Lord Black with an obscenely thick book casually in his hand. He looks up at the two in the doorway, light catching in his sliver eyes.

“Lunch is ready,” Regulus says with Adien is thankful for. Adien is never speechless but right now looking at Lord Black has robbed him of all his words. “This is Adien Rosier, a friend of mine,”

Lord Black turns his gaze to Adien who has to remember how to breathe. As Lord Black looks him over, Adien’s mind starts running. People did say that Sirius Black was a good looking child but Lord Black sits there looking absolutely stunning exuding confidence and poise in a way that Adien didn’t imagine was possible. His dark hair falls slightly wavy around his face reaching the tops of his shoulders, his jaw is sharp and set in a way that made it look like he always holds his head up high. His eyes are deep and their default expression is one of someone who knows exactly who they are.

The corner of his lip quirks slightly,” Rosier? I believe I know some of your family back in France,” Lord Black says a twinge of accent that comes from speaking French so much tainting his words. Adien has to reference Lord Rosier’s lectures to figure out what to say.

“Most probably, some of my relatives are there,” He says in a way he feels is clumsy and not worthy enough of the man in front of him. Sirius stands up, looking tall and easy in his body in a way that only belongs to those who were born both filthy rich and in high aristocracy.

Looking at Sirius feels like looking at the finest wine. He wants to drink it—he wants to drown in it.

“Lovely to meet you,” He says and Adien can’t stop himself from smiling as he returns the sentiment.

“Let’s go eat,” Regulus says, smiling to himself.

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“Did you like Rosier?” Regulus asks walking into their late Father’s study. It’s late and Sirius—being aware that his new title did come with responsibilities he couldn’t just blow off—has been working for the past couple hours.

After lunch—which had been nice for Sirius to finally see Regulus enjoying himself—Regulus had taken Rosier and went their way. Which Sirius understood of course with them being possibly 3 or so years younger than him.

“Yes, I did,” Sirius answers looking up from one the many proposals he has to get caught up with.

Throughout the year people—mostly politicians or experts in certain fields—make proposals and then essays are written to either support or disprove them. Then when the political season rolls around authors of the proposals mingle with the rich, the influential and the current ministers. The support they get from these groups of people—monetary support or even just influence—is what can make or break a proposal.

Sirius remembers from his very young childhood his parents going out with their grandparents or just in their name during the political season. It was the crux of everything the entire family strived for—power to shape the world.

In France, Sirius watched how his grandparents continued to gain and use their power. Even though the House of Black isn’t traditionally supposed to be involved in the matters of the French Wizarding community or just further in Europe, they still were. His grandparents would say a word, invite a person or cut-off another one and the rest would follow.

Now, it is Sirius’ turn—his turn to cultivate this power and influence that has withstood the test of time. There is really no reason why they have this power or are in this position where everything has been balanced on their shoulder but they are and everything is. If they lost this, hell would break loose—not only on them but everyone around them.

“How long have you known Rosier?” Sirius asks, focusing on nicer things. Regulus sits on a couch to the left of the room.

“Probably going on 2 or so years now.” Regulus answers, his shoulder a little tense which Sirius just chalked up to being in their late Father’s study—not like either of them had many fond memories of it. “I have been close to his cousin—Evan Rosier—for many years and he introduced us.”

“I’m surprised Lord Rosier hasn’t sent him over then,” Sirius says, slightly sarcastic and Regulus rolls his eyes.

“Evan is in Germany for the political season with Barty Crouch Jr,” Regulus says, then shrugged a little,” Evan most probably refused to return.” Sirius smiles a little.

“Well, if an alliance is what Lord Rosier is looking for sending all his children won’t be very effective,” Sirius then jokes, eyes looking over the stack of proposals. He hasn’t even gotten to essays or the predictions of what other Houses and people will support. All in all, there are probably a thousand things he has to study.

“Adien’s not here for an alliance,” Regulus snaps rather quickly and Sirius nods—realising it probably sounded like he was implying Adien isn’t actually friends with Regulus.

“I can tell,” Sirius says, trying to smooth it over,” You to get along very well—he’s a nice kid.” A little of the tension in Regulus’ shoulders disappears.

“He’s not a kid,” He then says, without much heat behind his words.

“Then how old is he?”

“18,”

“Freshly?” Sirius asks indulgently with a look to Regulus who leans back in his seat in response.

“Month or so before me,” Regulus mumbles after a minute.

“Oh, a toddler then.” Sirius smiles, once again looking over the proposals, “Any proposal you have any opinions on?” Regulus looks up at him slightly surprised.

“You want my opinion on politics?” Regulus says and Sirius nods.” For you to actually use?”

“That is why I asked,”

Regulus sits straighter a little awkwardly and say after a couple seconds of tension, “I didn’t think you would trust my opinion on such matters,”

“I don’t know your opinion on any matters,” Sirius explains. Possibly if Sirius was younger, he wouldn’t have trusted Regulus’ opinion on anything due to… circumstances but the 2 of them have both grown into their own people. Sirius doesn’t think the same way his 13 year old self did and he doubts Regulus does either. “But I do know if I want to be prepared for the up coming season, 2 pairs of eyes would be helpful,”

“Yes I do then,” Regulus says before standing up. With the flick of a wrist Sirius brings a chair over so Regulus can sit closer to him.

The two brothers work their way through the thousands lengthy documents.

They start by sorting all the proposals into 3 piles—1 pile for proposals they are against, 1 for proposals they are for and 1 for proposals they are neutral about. This takes just over a week in which Adien Rosier is invited over—exactly 7 days after his first visit—for lunch again.  Yule wishes are exchanged as well as small gifts for the other House as expected.

Save Adien Rosier, no one really leaves nor enters the Black House. The occupants are consumed with essays—they read almost non-stop until one’s eyes start to feel sore and long in-depth discussions about everything are held in hallways, over meals and the minutes before bed. Notes are scribbled out on parchment that is traded back and forth between the brothers until each topic is throughly fleshed out and a plan decided.

Their father’s study evolves to theirs during the comfortable moments of toil.

But, as Yule looms closer, letters are sent to ask whether the family ball is still going to held at the Black Mansion.

“Shall we?” Sirius asks, lounging again on the couch in the study with another essay in hand and his quill in another while Regulus had taken the desk. Regulus shrugs, makes a note then looks up.

“It would be a good way to reintroduce to the family before the political season starts,” Regulus thinks, “We would want any… discourse to be dealt with before the season starts and it would be a way to… remind people of who you are.” Sirius nods, agreeing.

Deep down, thinking like this made him think of his grandparents and his parents. How proud would they be right now? Yes he is planning to support proposals they would have scoffed at, but he is still doing exactly what they want of him. Playing their game of the rich and powerful—protecting and cultivating more of their power.

“Should we really do it here?” Sirius asks after a second, a plan blooming in his mind as he tucks his quill into the back of his hair.

“Where else?” Regulus asks, genuinely confused now. Sirius looks at him with a smile. Regulus purse his lips. “What are you thinking?”

“Reminding them of who I am,” Sirius smiles, leaning his head back and flicking his now free hand to the side. “ Raised by the Lord Arcturus and Lady Melania Black in their french palace.” Regulus smiles as understanding flashes through his eyes.

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When word got out that Lord Black held his first Yule Ball in the rich and royal French Palace of the late Lord Arcturus, the papers start running like mad. Pictures were somehow leaked of the insanely lavish party where all the occupants looked like something out of a story—some untouchable figure which you were meant to gawk at.

Lord Rosier analysed the events thoroughly day after Yule during lunch. Evan, whom had only just returned the day before in time for the Rosier Family ball and is due to leave before dinner, is the main victim of most of it.

“Very important of you to realise that not only is Lord Black reminding his family who he is but also showing them just why he is the head of the house,” Lord Rosier says and Evan nods, hiding his boredom behind his trained face. “This is very important since he is practically a stranger amongst them. Honestly, this move was absolute genius, not even talking about the effect it's going to have socially. The papers are already running the story!”

With Evan around, Adien is saved from being the target of all Lord Rosier’s opinions.  Lord Rosier prefers to lecture Evan since he would most benefit from the knowledge—due to obvious reasons.

Adien is excused from the lunch while Lord Rosier is still in the middle of his lecture and so goes to his room where he finds a copy of the paper from this morning which has launched the current lecture. He picks it up and starts to turn through the pages as he hadn’t seen any of the articles before Lord Rosier had commanded all their attentions.

Adien had fully intended to actually read the articles but his eyes are drawn to the pictures—the pictures which got their own section in the middle of the paper. Everything in the pictures looked rich and picture perfect—the Rosier Ball looks like a small school gathering compared to it. It feels like such photos had to be staged but the truth is that they aren’t. The photographer who had taken those photos is currently being held by the French Wizarding Legal system awaiting whatever charges Lord Black will decide to push. Lucky for the photographer, the photos sold like wildfire at high prices and so he should be able to get a good lawyer.

Looking over the photos, Adien’s eyes unintentionally find the same silver eyes in each photo. Lord Black somehow stood out against the sea around him. It is something about how he stood, his expression and the easy confidence in his stance. Everyone around his stood like they knew exactly who they were in relation to everyone around them—they knew who would bow their head to them and who they’d bow to. But Lord Black stood in the middle of it all like he didn’t care—he knew exactly who he and everyone else is but he didn’t care.

There is a picture in the corner where Lord Black stood in the middle of the large ballroom, everyone is standing around him in a circle while staring at him fully-focused. He holds a glass in his hand almost like he is about to make a toast but then looks around at everyone as if he asking anyone to step out of line. And they don’t.

The whole ball was engineered for that moment. In that moment Lord Black gave everyone the opportunity to go against him knowing when it passed—because there is no way anyone would attempt such a thing—everyone would be reminded clearly of who he is, Lord Black of the Noble and Ancient House of Black.

Lord Black—the name files around Adien’s mind like the snitch. He is chasing it everywhere but it stays just out of his reach and it drives him mind. Lord Black—he doesn’t know if it’s the title or the face it’s attached to that makes him shiver.

Lord Black—it drives him mad.

“Adien,” Evan stands casually in the doorway.

Adien doesn’t remember hearing him knock but then again Evan rarely knocks in this house—in his house.

“You got out quickly,” Adien jokes after briefly looking at him then returning to the paper, this time actually skimming over the words.

“Made up something about needing to pack,” Evan says as he starts walking into the room easily, trailing his fingers round the fancy wallpaper. He notices what Adien’s reading from the opposite side of the room. “See the pictures yet?” He asks and Adien nods,” Good looking eh?”

“Definitely,” Adien agrees, eyes glancing to the picture again and then Lord Black where he stares just a second too long. He—incorrectly—assumes due to Evan’s position in the room that he didn’t catch the moment. “See why they sold like they did,”

Evan is quiet for a second, hands dropping from the wall and trailing over the slightly messy desk in the corner of the room. “I’ve heard you eat with Regulus,” he says then adds after a second,” Twice in 2 weeks, while being their only visiter,”

Adien’s skimming is put on halt by this question as his mind flashes to the lunches he had at the Black Manor. He remembers watching Lord Black out of the corner of his eyes—every movement attracting his interest and thought. It took will to keep the conversation going smoothly with Regulus as every part of his mind was consumed with Lord Black.

“Yes,” Adien says, that speechlessness creeping up on him again,” He was lonely and wanted some company,”

Evan smiles,” Did Sirius like you?”

Adien nods, the use of Lord Black’s first name so casually shocked him slightly,” First name basis already?” He jokes as he closes the paper, bored with the articles now.

“I was introduced to him as such,” Evan dismisses taking the paper from Adien and flicking through it.

“So you’ve met him?” Adien asks, surprised.  It is possible that Regulus and Evan were talking through a Looking-Mirror and Lord Black came into frame but if such a thing had happened, Evan would have told Lord Rosier.

“No,” Evan says. He doesn’t elaborate until after Adien asks for more information, “Regulus talks about him a lot and only as Sirius so it just happened, didn’t help Barty refers to him as such as well.” Internally, Adien laughs at how for people like Evan and Barty such things can just happen. “Glad you two are getting closer,” Evan says then puts the paper down.

Adien is just about to tell Even how he feels Regulus is using him as a placeholder until Barty and him return but Evan is already half-way out the door so it is no use

Adien picks back up the paper and lies on his back. With a flick on his hand, the door shuts and ‘locks’ to the best of its ability.  Adien starts at the pictures—particularly one of Lord Black sipping from his glass with his hand half up and his hair curling by his chin. That particular one did something to him, made his heart beat harder. Drily, he gulps as he focuses on the way Lord Black’s lip press against the glass, on how the veins on his neck appear and the contrast between the dark of his hair and the pale of his skin.

It is then that he realises what he wants. He wants those lips against his skin, that neck bared to him. He wants to see the contrast between the skin of his fingers tangled up in that black hair.

He wants Lord Black.

Chapter Text

When Sirius came back from France a couple days after their Yule celebration, he assumed that he would have little to no obligations outside researching proposals until the political season started. But when Kreacher appears at his feet wearing a cold but masked expression on his face he knows he must have been wrong.

He leans back into the deep couch, internally groaning as Kreacher seemingly gathers his strength to talk to Sirius politely. The 2 of them had always been at odds and even now after all those years and a power change, they still fundamentally disagree with each other. 

This is most likely because Kreacher was charged with taking care of a young Orion Black and when Orion Black reached adulthood, Kreacher was then given over to his possession.  Kreacher in many ways lived for Orion Black but for unspecified reasons he held great dislike for both Sirius and Walburga, which he mostly hid under cold, distant actions. He tolerated—if not approved of—Regulus due him being the least aggravating to Orion.

Walburga had tried many times to send Kreacher away or punish him for such disrespect but Orion would always stop her. Sirius has always held the opinion that if Orion could wholeheartedly love anyone it would be Kreacher because the elf would rather kill himself than displease Orion in any way.

“The Yule season is now over,” Kreacher says and Sirius notes of the old elf skips the use of his title. If this was anyone else, Sirius might have done something about it but he understood in some way that the death of Orion hit Kreacher the hardest out of anyone. Kreacher looks like a part of him is dead—like he is just clinging onto life.

“And, Kreacher?” Sirius asks, honestly. The rest of the elves had already start cleaning and airing out rooms. The winter furniture, items and meal plans are being replaced with the spring and summer ones. Gardners, builders and other landscape workers have been sent outside to tend to the gardeners. All such things don’t need Sirius’ approval or guidance.

Kreacher takes a breath, summoning up his strength again. A part of Sirius is annoyed at this. 

“Your father’s possessions,” Kreacher finally manages to get out and then adds as an afterthought, “And your mother’s. You have to decide where you want everything to go.” Kreacher then bites his tongue as if he has more to say.

Sirius then is quiet for a minute. He hadn’t fully realised what his parents’ death actually meant yet.

They are gone. His mother’s expensive and beautiful robes are wasting away never to be worn by her again. His father’s wand polish which smelled so strongly of oak would never again be used. The pictures that were hung on the wall due to his mother’s like of them no longer needed to be there. No longer would his father’s favourite newspaper be found and delivered to him each morning. They were gone and with them, they have taken all the small things that made up the lives of everyone else around them.

Sirius had always been living around his parents—never really with them—and so he hadn’t noticed it at first but now a cold air surrounds him. The heavy weight of his parents trapping him is no longer there.

“And of course your move,”

Another thing Sirius had completely overlooked. Traditionally, Sirius would have moved into his parents’ old room months ago—since the room was built for the Lord of the house—but he hadn’t. He is currently living in his old childhood room just across from Regulus.

“No,” Sirius says quietly with a shake.

“No,” Kreachers says unable to stop the slight sneer in his voice. Sirius lets the action slide, knowing the only reason Kreacher is still around was the fact he couldn’t bear to let Sirius run wild with Orion’s legacy.

“No,” Sirius says again firmly this time—he says like a Lord. “I won’t move rooms—at least not now,” Kreacher opens him mouth to say something but Sirius holds up a hand to silence him. After a second of contemplating, Kreacher manages to keep his mouth shut with Sirius sees as an improvement on how he used to act. “ I will not be talked out of this decision—later down the line it will happen but not now. And concerning my parents’ possessions,  there are a couple things I want, a couple I want to give to Regulus and several I would like to send away somewhere.” Sirius reaches for a piece of parchment and magics over a quill. Kreacher’s face turns up slightly. “They are mostly of my mother’s possessions.” Kreacher relaxes and Sirius starts writing a list. “Everything else I want stored and labeled— meticulously and precisely labeled.”

“In house store?” Kreacher asks and Sirius nods as he hands over the list.

“Instead of placing the listed items in the study, please just leave them in my parents’ room,” Sirius finishes as tries to relax back into his seat. Kreacher leaves silently.

Later that day, Sirius Black does something he has never once done—he goes into his parents’ room.

As a child, his parents’ room was off limits to him—even standing in front of that imposing wood door was unwelcome. He has only peered into his parents’ room once at 8 years old when he had woken up early and was waiting in the hallway of his parents’ room. His mother had stepped out of this room of mystery and promptly scolded him.

He doesn’t know what possessed him to ask for all the items to be kept in that room. He stands in front of that door—the large one of a kind wooden door with details so intricate it must have taken days to craft. He wonders if he even has to courage to trespass on this forbidden land.

“Very Gryffindor of you,” Regulus jokes from down the hall—Sirius knew he had approached but didn’t know he planned to stay. It sends a shot of calm through him.

“Have you ever gone in?” Sirius asks calmly, not looking away from the door.

“No,” Regulus admits without the wit from a second ago.

“Would you like to?” Sirius asks honestly.

“No,” Regulus answers too quickly and Sirius nods.

“You can, if you ever want to,” Sirius then says as he reaches for the door handle but doesn’t turn it.

“I’ll leave that for you,” Regulus says, trying to shake off his uneasiness. “Kreacher said you had stuff for me?” Sirius nods.

“You always liked father’s pins,” Sirius speaks as his fingers feel the cold metal of the handle, “I thought you’d like them,”

“I would,” Regulus admits, his eyes clouding over for a second before he spoke again,” What do you plan to do with it?”

Regulus doesn't have to specific, Sirius knows he's referring to Walburga’s beautiful ring which she wore over the expensive engagement ring their Orion bought for her. She had gotten it from her grandmother who most possibly brought it with the blood of dozens.

Sirius had always loved that ring but Walburga would never let him touch it—she knew Orion didn’t like Sirius’ infatuation with it.

Orion would probably roll in his grave to think Sirius now has to opportunity to take it.

“I doubt Cissa or Andy would fully appreciate the ring but it would certainly mean a lot of Bella after how that Riddle fellow turned out,” Regulus continues and Sirius nods.

“I agree,” Sirius says. Bellatrix’s relationship with Tom Riddle—which never was more than a gentle crush on her side—was enough for rumours to start. Bellatrix was sent to the sea-side by her parents and there she will most possibly stay until everyone forgets she even knew Riddle. “But selfishly, I do not want to part with it. I plan to send Bella one of mother’s hair accessories,”

“Understandable,” Regulus says and then the conversation stops. Sirius realises that the time has come to send away the last of his parents.