“Sirius Black’s file, Sir. Along with the document you requested.”
Head Mattering thanked the secretary, already flipping open the file and fingering through the documents within as she left. An investigation into the case of Sirius Black had gone on for years, ever since late 1981, when he had been convicted of murder and had immediately received a life sentence. Things had grown even more interesting once Black had managed to be the first person to escape Azkaban Prison after spending almost a dozen years within its walls. And his sudden death in the Department of Mysteries added to the already complicated investigation.
Mattering sighed. Black’s adult life was a slow blur of activity, but little, if nothing, was known about his younger years that would have been of interest to the public. In their eyes, he was nothing more than a spoiled little pureblood brat who had gone completely crazy. They just took his surname and created their own ideas of who he was. Of course, there was really no precedent for them to think differently. Members of the ancient, pureblood families all tended to be the same, anyway.
However, something just wasn’t adding up with Black, and Mattering knew it. The document that interested Mattering, the head investigator for the magical community, was something only a few others within the investigational office and the wizarding world knew about.. Mattering, in all of his years working for the department, had never been so consumed by a case like he was with Black’s.
He unfolded the parchment that surrounded the file. Inside, there was an old, black journal with Sirius’s name in gold script on the front. Mattering,opened up the journal, the worn creases showing clearly on the paper, and began to read the thoughts of an eleven-year-old Sirius Black. Perhaps, he thought to himself, the mystery of Sirius Black would finally be solved by what was written in the journal.
Journal,
I finally received my Hogwarts letter today. It had taken forever to get here. I think my mother would have been a bit upset if it hadn’t come today. This, of course, is an understatement. I’m just thankful that I will finally be leaving this dark house.
Right after I got the letter, though, my father went into his ‘Noble House of Black’ speech and it’s not like I hadn’t heard the entire drabble before. It went something like this:
“The Black family commands a certain level of respect in the Wizarding world,” my father told me. Yeah, yeah, yeah, respect. I didn’t really care about being a part of this family. I’m like a blasted chess piece; all of my life has been planned out, and before leaving for Hogwarts on September 1st, my parents told me the next part in my ‘life story’, if you will.
“You will be sorted into Slytherin and take every course we tell you to throughout the seven years you attend.You will be a role model for your brother, who you will set in place when he arrives in two years,” drilled my mother. I struggled not to sigh aloud, but I couldn’t keep the thoughts away. As if I didn’t know my younger brother was her favorite. Even Father knew that. And Father picked up the speech right after her. It’s almost like they planned what and when they were going to talk or something.
“The Noble House of Black will expect nothing but perfection from you. Remember, Sirius,” he said, towering over me. “You are part of a family who has never mixed with anything less than pureblood. It is a legacy you will be expected to hold up as the heir of this family, which means that not only will you be in Slytherin and on the Quidditch team --” (I smirked at that comment. If there was one thing I enjoyed the most in my life, it was Quidditch. At least one of my family’s demands wouldn’t be horrible.) “--You will also graduate with full honors.”
I nodded. What else could I say except, “Yes, Sir”?
Mattering turned the page of the journal, thinking No wonder he went crazy. Too much pressure, especially on a child. He was probably already set to have an arranged marriage as well. He tore his mind from the thoughts, though, and kept reading.
September 1, 1971
Journal,
I now sit in my bed in Gryffindor Tower. My parents’ plan of Slytherins and purebloods obviously didn’t work out. I have a good feeling they are going to kill me over the Christmas holiday. I’ve received at least a dozen Howlers already from immediate family and distant relatives. Even my mother sent me one, telling me what a disgrace I am.
It’s hard to believe that today is still September 1st. Early this morning, I was woken by my family’s house“elf, Kreacher, who has always hated me. (But I hate him, too, so it really doesn’t matter.) After a formal breakfast, my parents took me to King’s Cross, leaving my younger brother at home. Once we were through the barrier, my father stopped me from running off by placing his cold hand upon my shoulder. He steered me to the brick wall and gave me a final ‘holding up the family honor’ speech. My mother looked on as if she were telling me a fond goodbye. Both my parents were excellent actors.
“Remember you are a part of a noble bloodline. Find an empty compartment and remember what it means to be part of this family. There is no room for the weak.” He continued on in this manner, but I tuned him out. It was the same crap they had drilled into me since my birth, and it wasn’t like I didn’t already know it; I could probably have repeated it better than my father could, as a matter of fact. I tuned back in, though, as he stated his closing sentiments “… Your true friends will be found in that way. Never settle for less than what the Noble House of Black deserves.”
I said my formal good-bye, as did my parents. No tears could be seen in my eyes or my parents’ but they put on a damn good show of acting like they were going to miss me.
Hurrying on board the bright red train, I looked for a compartment, finally finding one at the end of the train. It was empty, but I hoped that it wouldn’t remain so. I had longed for real friends and freedom my whole life, and now that I had some freedom, I wanted friends as well. And it wasn’t long before I had my wish.
James Potter with his signature, messy, black hair; Peter Pettigrew, short with straw-blonde hair; and Remus Lupin, blonde, thin, and very pale.
Head Mattering stopped reading immediately, thoughts swirling in his mind. James Potter? Remus Lupin? Peter Pettigrew? Peter Pettigrew was a friend of Sirius Black? I wonder what went so wrong with their friendship? Why would he kill one of his friends? And James Potter … he couldn’t mean Harry Potter’s father, could he? What other connection did Sirius have with the Potter family?
The Mattering Report File: Sirius Black by dancingwithneville
Chapter Notes: Could I please have Vindictus Viridian take a look at it? Thank you!
Thanks to my Beta megan_lupin ! You have been such a great help!!!
I own nothing related to or being Harry Potter it all belongs to J.K. Rowling.