Thread: Runaway
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Old January 25th, 2007, 3:57 am
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witchsmart  Female.gif witchsmart is offline
Sixth Year
Join Date: 19th October 2006
Location: The Library
Age: 28
Posts: 1,418
Re: Runaway

Chapter Four

Dinner in 12 Grimmauld Place was silent as usual. The only noise to be heard was the clinking of knives and forks against the china plates, and the sound of Kreacher’s feet scuffing across the cold, stone floor as he waited upon them. Sirius hated eating with the family for two reasons. One, whenever he reached over the table for a second helping, he would feel the uncomfortable stare of his mother’s piercing eyes on him, so he would then sit back in his seat. His mother disproved of eating too much, and considered eating anything more than the bare minimum was to be a pig, like a muggle at Thanksgiving. So whenever Sirius became hungry, he would sneak downstairs after dinner and quietly grab some food before his mother or Kreacher came around the corner.

The second reason for his dislike towards these evenings was when Kreacher gave him a toothy grin as he served his food. It always gave Sirius the chilling feeling that the house-elf had poisoned his food, and that he would drop dead as soon as he ate it.

The entire meal passed in this manner, and when he was finally finished, Sirius quickly gave his plate to Kreacher, who looked at him with loathing, and walked down the hall to the drawing room. It was where he always endured the long lectures from his parents. These were usually about how he “didn’t appreciate his noble heritage”, and how he should “act like the pure-blood that he was”. Or mostly, “Why can’t you be more like your perfect, wonderful, sensible brother? Why can’t you be more like Regulus?”

But he didn’t want to be like Regulus. He didn’t want to be obsessed with pure-bloods, or half-breeds, or any of that. He didn’t want to go to some snobby school where you had to be just like every other stuck-up person who thought that they were better than anyone else. But most of all, Sirius did not want to live here any longer. He waited anxiously for the day when he became of age, so that he could finally escape from this prison.

By this time, Sirius had reached the drawing room. It had a long, high ceiling with olive-green walls which were covered in various tapestries, some displaying the crests of many pureblooded families. A vast carpet lay on the stone floor, and on the other side of the room was a window with moss-green curtains. On the other wall there stood various glass-fronted cabinets on either side of a stone mantelpiece. Inside them stood the relics and collections of past Blacks, including a selection of daggers, a coiled snakeskin, and various other likewise objects.

The main display of the room hung on the far wall, covering a good two-thirds of it. It was an enormous tapestry, and on it, embroidered with golden thread, was the Black family tree. At the top in large words, the tapestry read:

The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black
“Toujours Pur”

On it was the entire history of the Blacks, dating as far back as the Middle Ages. They were all there, from his great-great grandfather, Phineas Nigellus, whose portrait hung in one of the upstairs rooms, to his father, Orion Black. Here and there on the tapestry were burn marks, where his mother had blasted off the names of people who were (in Sirius’ opinion), halfway decent, “removing them from the family”.

There was Isla Black, who had married a muggle, and Marius, who was a squib. If you weren’t perfect in every single which way, then you weren’t considered to be a Black. You were raised as a pure-blood, you married a pure-blood, had pure-blood children, and died as a pure-blood. Sirius hated this more than anything else about his family. Their obsession of pure-bloods was pointless, irrational, and just plain stupid. Sirius had never been able to see any difference between a pure-blood and a half-breed. It just didn’t make sense to him.

The sound of footsteps in the hall brought Sirius back to reality. He turned around as his parents entered, shut the door behind them, and began what he would come to remember as one of the worst moments of his life.

Thank you to for the Black family tree!


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