novelraw Chapter 77: Black's Lion Heart (Sirius's Perspective)
Chapter 77: Black's Lion Heart (Sirius's Perspective)
Sirius Black pushed open the heavy, peeling black door of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, and for the first time in his life, felt a faint urge to explore this mansion he loathed from the depths of his soul.
He walked through the long hallway with studied indifference—more than twenty years ago, when he and Regulus were still children, they'd attempted to ride their first toy broomsticks here.
They'd swung off the ground along the entrance hall, rejoicing as their feet left the floor, pursued by their panicked house-elf.
Then they'd charged headlong into the ceiling, knocking the row of bright gas lamps so hard they'd swayed precariously.
In the flickering light, a faint smile appeared on Sirius's gaunt face before quickly disappearing.
He continued walking, passing velvet curtains riddled with moth holes.
He no longer heard the familiar insults.
A desperate sob came from behind the curtain. An old, hoarse woman's voice kept calling out, "My son... my boy..."
At this moment, she'd abandoned her pride, arrogance, stubbornness, and prejudice, calling out with a broken heart just like any ordinary mother in the world.
Sirius showed disgust but didn't stop walking.
The mother—she only had one son left, and she wasn't calling for him.
A mocking smile played on his lips as he walked past the coat stand fashioned from a troll's leg, childhood memories suddenly flooding his mind.
Yes, he remembered they'd tried to climb to the top of that coat stand—the highest point in their world as children—and ended up falling and crying loudly.
They'd been so small then, and the troll's leg had been like a tree to them.
The two Black brothers had looked very alike. The same black hair, the same grey eyes, the same haughty expression. However, Regulus was two years younger and always appeared slightly smaller and thinner.
Regulus had always liked following Sirius around, and the two brothers went on adventures together. They'd climb the troll's leg, smash the gold and silver utensils in the cupboards to make noise, and wreak havoc with the house-elf in the kitchen, throwing pots and pans across the floor before fleeing in panic at their mother's angry shouts of "Sirius! You lawless little wretch!"
When had their relationship changed?
Perhaps it was through their father's repeated frowns and comparisons, and their mother's repeated favoritism and blame, that a rift gradually developed between them, and their relationship was no longer so close.
"Sirius is two years older than Regulus, so he should be more mature and sensible than his younger brother. If they do something wrong, it must be because the older brother led the younger brother astray, so naturally the blame should fall on him." Once, he'd passed by the drawing room on the second floor and heard his mother say this to his father.
"Don't plead for your brother. You're too young to understand." After each scolding, his mother would always say to Regulus, "Be a good boy and listen to your mother. Don't learn from your brother and don't let him lead you astray."
He'd stood there stiffly, pretending he didn't care.
In reality, he'd been madly jealous of Regulus.
He'd once thought Regulus had stolen their parents' love from him.
But he later discovered it had nothing to do with Regulus—they simply loved a son who was obedient and compliant. He was rebellious and found it difficult to bow to his parents, so they loved the child who was willing to submit.
Regulus was a kind child; he couldn't bring himself to be completely rebellious, always reluctant to disappoint his parents. He longed to be mischievous like Sirius, to laugh freely, but if his mother frowned even slightly, showing the slightest hint of sadness, he would back down.
He'd hide the subtle envy in his eyes for Sirius's independent spirit and obediently accept whatever his parents taught him—regardless of whether it was filled with unfounded malice and foolish, outdated prejudices—hoping his mother would smile more and his father would be proud of him.
"Mother always means well for us; she would never hurt us," Regulus had said. "She told me that pure-bloods are born noble, and that this is the underlying logic that keeps wizarding society functioning, the basic rule for living in wizarding society. Whether you agree or not, everyone has to abide by it. Although I don't yet understand the principles she's discussing, I don't want to rashly oppose her. I don't want to hurt her."
"You've been corrupted by her!" Sirius had said angrily. "Why are people divided into different classes? Why should some be exploited while others reap the benefits? Do you really think that mounting a house-elf's head on the wall is beautiful, is art?"
"But they're content with it," Regulus had said. "Kreacher said he'd never dreamed of such an honor. He felt it was the greatest privilege! Why can't you respect his opinion? He simply wants to serve the Blacks—he's happy every day, and he doesn't want to go anywhere else."
"Regulus," Sirius had said, gazing at his brother who was once familiar but now seemed somewhat foreign, "I don't recognize you anymore. I realize I've never really known you."
"Don't say that, Sirius," Regulus had said uneasily. "We'll always be brothers, won't we?"
Later, an acceptance letter from Hogwarts gave Sirius Black the opportunity to leave the old mansion. He boarded the fateful Hogwarts Express and met his kindred spirit, James Potter.
James wasn't a brother by blood, but they were closer than brothers. He understood Sirius's concepts of equality and freedom. He was willing to be wild, playful, and mischievous with Sirius rather than be bound by rules and become a hypocritical snob. He didn't care what kind of parents Sirius had, nor whether he was from Slytherin. He'd said, "I think you're a really good bloke."
Sirius was Sorted into Gryffindor by the Sorting Hat. This made his parents ashamed. When he returned to the Black ancestral home, Regulus had become even more of a stranger.
What had happened during the two years he was away at Hogwarts, separated from Regulus?
Sirius believed his mother must have constantly instilled in Regulus the concept of blood purity, and that the "oldest and noblest" Black family took "Toujours Pur"—Always Pure—as their motto.
They would never permit the Black family to have another son Sorted into Gryffindor like Sirius, nor did they need a second son who didn't advocate pure-blood supremacy.
Regulus entered Slytherin House. Rumors began circulating about the Black family. People said Regulus was superior to Sirius, and that the Black family preferred Regulus as their heir, to revive the glory of the Black family's pure bloodline.
"You idiot!" That year, they'd argued at the fourth-floor stairwell, and Sirius had cursed him. "Why would you believe this rubbish? Pure-blood supremacy? Disdain for Muggles? You weren't like this before!"
"No, I've always been like this," the thin, handsome, dark-haired boy had said melancholically. "You're right. I'm afraid you've never truly understood me. I am a true member of the Black family. The Black honor needs to be passed down, and if you discard it like rubbish, then it must be carried on by me."
"They're all lunatics, a bunch of control-mad fanatics!" Sirius had said anxiously. "Can't you stop being so cowardly? You need to step outside and see the world! Not every family lives this way, and not all wizards hold the same beliefs. You're trapped in this house—you need to broaden your horizons!"
"Sirius, my dear Sirius. I'm afraid I can't. We can't change our origins, much less our parents. We enjoy the comfort and convenience that comes with our status, and we have to bear the responsibilities that come with it," Regulus had said calmly.
"Even if they trample the innocent underfoot, bully, insult, and exploit them, simply because they're not pure-blood wizards?" Sirius had said with a mocking expression.
"You're talking to me about innocence? Wasn't Severus Snape innocent? Weren't you the biggest bully? What did he do to deserve being bullied like that?" Regulus had looked at his brother defiantly, as if he'd heard something absurd.
"Don't mention that sniveling brat to me! How could you associate with that greasy git who dabbles in Dark Magic?" Sirius had said contemptuously. "Why don't you go ask him what he and Mulciber are up to?"
"Otherwise, would I be like you, hanging around with that reckless, arrogant James Potter all the time? It's revolting! He seems more like your brother!" Regulus had suddenly sneered. "That's the difference between us. I will never betray my family and my beliefs!"
"You idiot! Cowardly Slytherin!" Sirius had shouted angrily at him.
"You're the fool! Arrogant Gryffindor!" Regulus had looked back at him haughtily.
"Bang!" They'd exchanged unforgivable harsh words at that age and slammed their bedroom doors shut.
After his falling out with Regulus, Sirius felt no longer bound by the house's constraints. He ostentatiously hung a permanent Gryffindor banner on the wall of his room, along with pictures of Muggle motorcycles and bikini-clad girls, as well as photographs of himself and his Gryffindor mates, to emphasize the vast difference between himself and his family.
Regulus, in his quiet and reserved manner, nailed a sign to his door that read, "Do Not Enter Without the Express Permission of Regulus Arcturus Black."
Harboring strong mutual disapproval, they never entered each other's rooms again.
Once inseparable brothers, bound by blood, had become like strangers separated by a wall.
They no longer opened their doors to each other; instead, they closed their hearts.
*What is there left to cherish? In this family, no one understands me. My pure soul has been tainted, and my passionate heart has been pierced with pain.*
Not long after, during an argument with his mother, after years of criticism, verbal abuse, and violent treatment, Sirius left home without looking back and went to live with his soul mate, James Potter.
Standing before Regulus's door, he stroked the imposing little sign. The handwritten letters were neat and orderly, just like Regulus himself. He'd always lived a rigid, proper life within the invisible framework drawn by his parents.
How could such an upright person break through the many barriers carefully woven by his parents, don the robes of a Death Eater, and quietly walk to the opposite side of Voldemort?
A strange feeling churned in his stomach. Sirius closed his eyes and pushed open the door to the room he hadn't entered since his teenage years.
It was a room saturated with Slytherin atmosphere.
The silver and green decorations suddenly overwhelmed him.
The bed, the walls, the windows... everything was filled with silver and green that made Sirius feel suffocated.
There was a photograph of the Slytherin Quidditch team beside the bed.
Sirius picked it up and quickly found Regulus—the sixteen-year-old sat arrogantly in the middle of the front row. He'd been an excellent Seeker.
"Why did you join the Death Eaters?! Do you know it will destroy you?!" Sirius had once roared at Regulus.
He still remembered the match that day.
After the match, he'd rushed to find Regulus, who'd caught the Golden Snitch, hoping to break the deadlock and wish him "Happy Birthday," but he'd inadvertently discovered the filthy Dark Mark on Regulus's arm.
"Do you think this is a mark anyone can bear? I'm the first Death Eater recruited by the Dark Lord before graduating. Mother says I'm her little hero, and Father is very pleased…" Young Regulus had boasted to his brother, who'd been away from home for so long, his eyes full of ambition. "Just watch, brother—the glory of House Black will shine brightly in my hands."
"Regulus, do you know what Death Eaters represent? Do you know what they're doing?" Young Sirius had suddenly abandoned his anger. He'd looked sadly at the naive boy, this blood-related "brother" whom he could no longer understand or redeem.
"The Death Eaters fight for lofty ideals and beliefs—we want to revive the glory of pure blood. You wouldn't understand; it doesn't matter, you don't need to understand. Just live the life you want. I won't interfere, and you shouldn't try to tell me what to do," Regulus had said proudly, his eyes full of naive, unrealistic aspirations.
"You're too naive. He won't bring you any glory. He's slaughtering and eliminating dissidents. He's a madman! Your hands are the hands that caught the Golden Snitch. If you get involved with him, your hands will become filthy!" Sirius had tried to persuade him, his heart filled with profound worry.
"Enough, Sirius. I am the Dark Lord's most trusted supporter—don't speak of him like that in my presence. I have nothing more to say to you." Regulus had glanced at him with disappointment, picked up his broomstick, and flown toward the setting sun.
That had been the last time the brothers basked in the same sunset's glow.
At that time, Regulus had still harbored illusions about Voldemort.
Sirius's eyes filled with complex emotions. If he'd known then that Regulus would regret it two years later, would betray Voldemort, and would sacrifice himself, would he have tried to persuade his younger brother again?
*It's no use. Regulus is so stubborn. It's a stubborn gene inherited from Mother.*
*They're all the same,* Sirius thought gloomily.
He casually pulled open the bedside table drawer. Inside lay a weathered quill, a dried-up ink bottle, a book about Dark Magic, and a transparent box—containing a small, exquisite Golden Snitch.
That was… Sirius examined it carefully… He tried to sift out a small, blurry memory from his brain, which had been ravaged by Dementors for so long.
That was the Snitch they'd encountered while playing Quidditch at home during one of their matches.
At the time, his mother had bought a brand-new, competition-standard Quidditch set.
Sirius had caught the Golden Snitch first, while Regulus had been just a hair's breadth away—he'd been extremely envious, rubbing his eyes, wanting to cry but unwilling to admit it, stubbornly insisting he had dust in his eyes.
Sirius had left the Snitch with him. The next day, he'd boarded the Hogwarts Express.
—That had been the first time the two of them had been separated for so long, and he'd wanted to leave Regulus a memento.
However, after experiencing so many tumultuous events and so many earth-shattering arguments, he'd never expected Regulus would still keep it.
With a thought, he deftly opened the transparent box and removed the dormant little golden object.
It was still as pristine and clean as it had been years ago, without a speck of dust.
At that moment, the Snitch seemed to come alive, sprouting delicate silver wings. It fluttered up and down, and suddenly a seam opened in its body, from which a small parchment scroll emerged.
*How could this be?* Sirius stopped breathing.
*What is that?* He could almost hear his own heartbeat.
*What could be inside?* He hesitated for a long moment, as if unable to believe it was real.
Finally, he reached out slowly and carefully to take it, as if afraid of damaging the illusory, somewhat weathered, and fragile parchment.
He carefully unfolded the parchment, bit by bit.
His mouth was dry, his hands trembled violently, and it took him ages to complete the task.
It was a letter from Regulus. It had waited for years in the empty Black mansion, enduring the passage of time and endless vicissitudes, finally reaching its one and only recipient in the world in such a bizarre and poignant manner:
*"Sirius, the pure-blood traitor,*
*By the time you read this letter, I'll probably be dead. Now I can finally be honest—you were right. My past beliefs were naive.*
*The cruel reality is completely different from what I imagined. My worship of bloodline and power blinded me to the evil around me.*
*I've discovered a secret of the Dark Lord: the secret of the Horcruxes. I will fight this secret with my life. It may not change the current situation, but only by doing so can I find peace.*
*I place my hopes in the future.*
*Looking back, I've always been law-abiding and dutiful, living according to our parents' expectations and striving to continue the family's honor. For this, I lost my brother.*
*By the time I discovered the truth about this world, it was too late. The Black family behemoth had already turned course.*
*Since that's the case, let me be willful this once. I'm willing to walk alone into the night after faith has been shattered.*
*P.S. I've never disliked James Potter—I admire him. You blindly arrogant fool, with a lion's heart, not just Gryffindor's… I wish we could play Quidditch again like we did when we were children.*
*Your brother,*
*R.A.B.*"
Sirius suddenly felt dizzy.
He leaned against the headboard—adorned with the Black family crest and the motto "Toujours Pur."
Below the motto were many yellowed newspaper clippings, arranged in irregular collages—all of them articles about the Dark Lord.
"The Dark Lord's most loyal supporter," Sirius murmured softly, bemused by the phrase.
He laughed breathlessly, the sound growing louder and louder until he could hardly breathe.
He threw himself onto Regulus's bed with a thud, raising a cloud of dust from the silver-green bedspread. He coughed from the dust, and his eyes stung.
He stopped laughing. He rubbed his eyes fiercely, just as Regulus had done when he was a child, as if trying to rub all that damned dust out, rub it out, rub it out…
He covered his eyes with the letter, and tears suddenly streamed down his long-numbed face.