Sirius was glad to have never had a sister. Not because anything against females or his fathers pride in only thing sons fit to carry the Black name for generations to come. Rather he couldn't ignore that through any situation with his mother that a sister would suffer his mothers narcissism more than he ever would. Sirius’s mother demanded attention during her presence. Demanded to be heard and obeyed. However, she remembered her boys would one day be men and molded them as such. Had fate been cruel enough to bestow a daughter to Walburga Black, there was no doubt that girl would have suffered their mothers manipulation ten fold as it would be her sole purpose and duty to raise that girl to be subservient.
Which is why Sirius was relieved to be back in Hogwarts. The further away from his parents he could be, the better. The scraping of chalk and the Professor's voice that had previously once lulled him into his thoughts jerked him back into the present. The chalk made a faint yet still teeth grinding screech against the board. In large letters to overhead the next part of the lesson. ‘The Unforgivable Curses’. This was a lesson he learned early. Well…one of them anyway.
Professor Speckspen was the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. The one prior, like all before, only lasted a year. The record has been two years. She was a shrill-looking older woman, like someone had pulled her out of retirement for this job. Or as Lupin had said “someone definitely dug that lady out of the coffin for this job.” She had a nasty scar on her neck that branched up to her jaw. Her sandy blonde hair tied into an overly tight bun that made anyone wince just to look at. She had a slight tremor in her hands but the stern look in her eyes cancelled out any possibility of anxiety.
Sirius's gaze shifted to James who looked like he was itching to irritate the Professor up in some way. In the corner of his eyes was Peter Pettigrew eyeing James with an eager admiration, eager to learn from a mentor. It was a rather pathetic expression…for a rather pathetic person. Yet Peter meant well and for Sirius and the others, that was enough.
“There are three unforgivable curses in total.” Professor Speckspen said. “All are named as such for obvious reasoning. They are unforgivable when used. So no, the person you ever were to use such spells on- will not overlook it or let it go. Hence, unforgivable. When used, the victim of these curses are never the same. Emotionally, psychologically…physically…these are how you truly break a person or even kill them.” Her delivery was cold and clinical, like she expected no one in the room would use them or even like the curses were a myth themselves. Yet they were very real. Sirius knew that all too well. “Such curses are not recommended whether of age or not, it leads to only one outcome. A life sentence in Azkaban. Do not be surprised. It is unforgivable for a reason. Therefore there shall be no demonstrations.” She turned, eyeing every student with a cold glare. “The first…the imperius curse. Otherwise known by its command ‘imperio’. The imperius curse makes puppets out of its victims, the master is the caster.”
“Heh, a poet.” Barty Crouch Junior murmured under his breath, tongue darting out and swiping his lips. Evan Rosier smirking beside him and keeping his head down. The two having little interest or respect for the professor.
Professor Speckspen, like many times before, didn't hear the petty jabs. Paying notice to them meant acknowledging them. Something she wasn't prepared to do.
“Imperio is cast stripping away a witch or wizards free will. Abolishing their nature meaning what Mr Malfoy?” Her tone upturned with a sneer. Lucius sighed silently like he had better things to do. “They don't have a choice.”
“Pay attention, boy. We gathered that!” She snapped. “Meaning regardless of if the victim wouldn't be capable of something by nature, they will be forced to do so without hesitation or suffering. Therefore, as I just said, abolishing their nature. Their moral compass!” With a swish of her wand the chalk scored a line underneath the words ‘no free will’. The chalk then started writing again. “It is described to be under this curse as a dream like state- a lack of concern and complete elation. Despite the spells ability to weigh on the person like a blanket, the victim will feel completely free. Hence a lack of moral compass to influence one's behaviour. Susceptibility at an all time high to the caster.”
As Professor Specken continued her lesson she started to walk slow curses around the room eyeing every student to ensure they were taking notes and listening. She reached out with a boney hand gripping the back of Goyle's head in the back row and forcing it down, noticing his notes were non-existent.
“Breaking this curse is not as easy as to just lift it. There are three ways: the victims' mental strength to resist. The Ministry often gives the victim a devastating shock to disrupt the flow of the curse and allow the victim to break free. This shock can be devastating or life changing news. Often a large falsehood. Or they'll use a traumatic life event. Research is being conducted as to the efficiency of casting for example a protective charm which is ultimately positive in intention and cast a curse at the same time to the victim. That positive and negative energy battling it out and ultimately causing this disruptive shock that if successful, would break the curse quickly. The alternatives are if the caster dies or is incapacitated enough that their magic shifts. Such a curse is too much to maintain so whether the caster desires it or not, the curse will break. Let it be known that some are more resistant to others and it is possible to build resistance to this curse if one is constantly subjected to it.”
Professor Specken got to the front of the class again. “We'll get this next one over quickly as there's not much to say as there is with the other two. So, the last curse is the Killing curse cast with Avada Kedavra. It is instant. So instant that the expression on the victims face remains after death. It leaves no mark upon the victims body. There is no counter spell to this curse. The only way to survive it is to get out of the way. The best protection you will ever have from such a curse is a physical barrier or protection magic by sacrifice. Though such magic is not considered…unreliable.” She finished clenching her jaw, another look of disdain for the students. Then she began again. “It causes irreparable damage upon the casters soul. It stains the soul in such a way that it's a darkness that will never leave the caster. This damage is irreparable and such is deemed only the truly evil will cast it. The disregard for life, to completely eradicate someone of this mortal realm and the stain upon the casters soul is what defines it as unforgivable.”
Sirius found that part intriguing. No one ever really talked about its effect on the caster. It seemed like in one way or another these curses are an infliction upon the caster and the victim. It was an alluring little detail. Dark wizards cast those curses like they were basic charms, without hesitation and ease. Yet they were impacted all the same. It felt fitting and in some ways a comfort. That no matter how isolating, the victim wasn't alone in the damage.
Professor Speckspen saved the hardest to stomach for last. Or at least in Sirius’s eyes. It felt like an attack but he tried to settle himself. “The curse that is considered the middle ground of unforgivable curses is that of the Cruciatus curse.” Sirius flinched just at the name. A heavy unsettling dread in his gut. The classroom suddenly feeling massive. James and his friends a million miles away. He felt his heart clench a flutter of anxiety as he exhaled slowly. He could do this. He was in class. He was far away from it all. Sirius's struggle went unnoticed by the rest as Professor Speckspen spoke.
“Casted with the phrase ‘Crucio’, this curse causes great pain, pushing the human body past the limit of pain thresholds. It is agonising torture. Other than being unforgivable for blatant torture. It is unforgivable as it can only be cast with an unclouded desire to cause the person pain. In other words, the witch or wizard must want to cause this hurt.”
He felt a cold wave of shock. Crucio was a discipline tool in his house. Yet on the outside of his house, it was unforgivable torture. Sirius had never heard of Crucio in such a manner. His mother and father had never explained it. It was a punishment. Spare the rod and spoil the child. The ancient house of Black did not stand for or raise delinquents with soft natures. They raised powerful witches and wizards. The pain was a learning curve. He knew his parents were stricter than most. Down right cruel sometimes but it was for the best…wasn't it?
Professor Specken's following words cut him to the core like she had taken a bony fist and drove it into his stomach. “Anger, even if justified or righteous, is not enough to cast this curse. There is no hiding behind emotions like anger to justify the use because it isn't possible under the scale of emotions. Not without that true desire to hurt.” The curse hurt. Without a shadow of a doubt Sirius had never felt pain like he felt it under crucio. However this was a whole other kind of pain. Nausea bubbling in his gut as he could have sworn he felt his heart crack. Terror filled his lungs as his hand gripped the edge of the table so hard his knuckles turned white. It was true that he couldn't forgive his parents when they cast that curse. It wasn't discipline, not in its entirety. His own mother wanted to hurt him. He was so overcome with the realisation that he barely caught the last of Professor Speckspen’s words. “Typically only those who have been touched by the darkness in life can cast this spell.”
That sounded about right. Sirius felt his entire family had been submerged in the dark for generations. The expelled nobility, high status and reputation. The Black family could make the world stop spinning as easy as they made the world go around. Although being a part of it was different. The family, in Sirius’ eyes, was haunted or plagued by expectation that was slowly strangling the family. It snuffed out any joy a Black has once born. Encouraging traits is not the way, it is to reshape and redefine each into their own image. The Black family bred misery and it was suffocating.
Yet Sirius, despite their strained relationship, loved his mother. He wished she wouldn't drink so much that every inner thought and feeling bubbled to the surface. That his father didn't antagonise her to feel condescended and demeaned in such a state. Sirius associated that love and wish with what he thought must have been a subconscious perception of weakness on his mothers part. Which was far from the truth. His mother was a formidable, strong woman in her own right. She did not take pity as anything but an insult. She'd spit on anyone who dared try to pity her.
Sirius was reminded about all the times Sirius tried to be there for her. To be the good son she demanded. All of those memories were tainted because in those moments she lay eyes on him, her own son, and sometimes she was hateful enough that the sentiment meant nothing. All she saw was him and she wanted to hurt him. To give him the most excruciating pain. Not because of the alcohol. Not because of the fits of rage. There was no excuse. She hurt him because she wanted to and his mind couldn't comprehend that. He couldn't comprehend in entirety that she was so rotten to the core that she could have a true to desire to torture her own child.
He wanted her to hurt just for that. That she could want his suffering so in return, he wanted hers. Just once, just once he wanted to even the score. She deserved that much. Soon that fire in his chest settled. No. She was his mother. He'd never bring himself to that level. Being his mother wasn't enough for him to forgive, but it was enough to stop retaliation. Instead she'd lose what she cherished the most. Power.
At that moment, she was a mother only by biology. He would give her nothing more. He always thought that he couldn't be what she wanted. Now the sentiment had changed. He wouldn't be what she wanted. He didn't even feel guilt like he had always thought he would. Perhaps his mother had always bargained on that. That thought made the sensation freeing. She could do anything and it'd mean nothing. Every choice was hers, her own fault and that was all. She could blame him but she'd know. If she loved him at all, she wouldn't know the pain of losing a son to death. She'd know something much more maddening. The pain of losing a son who was still alive. Out in the world, maybe even sometimes in arms length but by bond, a million miles away. Untouchable.
He remembered her cold glare. How her lip faintly curled and it'd become more prominent as the minutes of interaction continued. It wasn't the face of a mother anymore. It was a lie. It was false, like a cruel trick of the universe to call such a woman ‘mother’ and believe it. He couldn't deny what he had always thought. It was like she was disgusted by her sons or hated them. Though the reason wasn't clear in specifics- just that they were not what she wanted them to be. Or at least that was the case with Sirius. Regulus got that curse nowhere near as much as Sirius did. He was the perfect son. The golden boy. What Sirius couldn't stomach, Regulus could. Yet what Sirius got was torture.
Sirius knew this wasn't nearly over. This was life changing. For once he didn't hold back the bubbling resentment and attempt to dissuade it. For the first time he let himself feel it. He had always thought a monster wore his mothers face. Yet the truth revealed that it wasn't wearing his mothers skin. His mother in body and soul was a monster. A monster he could acknowledge…but he could not forgive.
Professor Speckspen’s words interrupted him once more. "I want an essay from each of you on why the Unforgivable curses are unforgivable and no, it won't be enough to relay what I've said. I want creativity. I want to see you're all capable of thinking and not just parroting me. Give it real thought, and if you don't, then it'll be handed back, and you'll be rewriting it until you show a level of individual thinking." Figures. Sirius has lost the image of a unified family in class and now he has to write about the reasons why.
The Black family were notorious. Everybody in Britain knew who they were and knew not to cross even the lowliest member of their crime empire.
Sirius had tried to get out, but there was no getting out. At least his rebellion had taken him away from the worst of what his family was involved in. Sirius was now in charge of the legit side of things. But even though he never touched anything that could be seen as even slightly illegal, people still feared him because of his name.
One of those things he took care of was the hundreds of rental properties the family owned. This tended to not be too difficult a job. Knowing who their landlords were, the tenants all paid their rent on time and no one ever complained about the state of them. That is until a Mr R J Lupin emailed him demanding the black mould be removed, a door that actually locked, hot water in the shower, and the kitchen have cupboards, counters, and just your basic kitchen fittings. Sirius looked him up. He was renting one of the cheapest flats in the worst part of London that the family owned.
“Damn it,” He hissed under his breath. Remus hadn’t paid his rent. There was a zero-chance policy. As soon as someone missed a payment, that was it.
“Sirius!” Orion Black barged into his office. “I’ve just read a very interesting email.” His father said, holding up his tablet. “From one, Remus John Lupin. I want him out. Take Crabbe and Goyle with you and make sure he knows who he's crossed.”
“But, don’t you think we should address some of the issues? I mean he kind of has a point about the black mould,” Sirius tried to argue on his tenant’s behalf, but Orion was having none of it.
“Forget it, I’ll just send them myself.” And with that, Orion strode out of Sirius’s office.
“Careful, brother,” Regulus warned from the doorway. “They will punish you if you interfere.”
“Yeah, I know, but Reggie, he doesn’t even have a kitchen.”
“That’s really not our problem, Sirius.”
“But it is. It’s our flat, we have to provide basic necessities,” He tried to get his brother to show even an iota of human decency. Regulus sighed sadly.
“He withheld his rent, Sirius. You might have been able to do something if Father hadn’t found out, but it’s too late for Lupin now. Perhaps you can look into some of the other properties and slowly get them up to par.” Regulus moved away from the door. “Don’t do anything stupid!”
Sirius groaned into his hands. He couldn't just leave the man to those two goons. He grabbed his keys and rushed out of the building.
His Porsche 911 purred through the city. The buildings got rougher and rougher until he thought maybe he shouldn’t have driven his expensive car there.
The door to the building was wide open, not a good sign. He cautiously entered and made his way up to the third floor. He counted the doors until he came to number 8, and it was hanging off its hinges.
He peered into the flat. It was just one room with a tiny bathroom built into what used to be a cupboard. He wrinkled his nose as the smell hit him. Damp and mould and other vile scents he couldn’t even attempt to name. There was a tall man standing on the other side of the bed looking down in horror at the floor.
“Remus?” He asked. The man’s head turned towards him so fast his neck cracked.
“I-I-I,” He stammered. Sirius noticed he was shaking. He walked around the bed and froze. On the floor, not moving, were Crabbe and Goyle.
“Oh fuck!” Sirius gritted his teeth. His father would want Remus dead for sure once he found out.
“I swear I didn’t do it.” Remus grabbed Sirius’s upper arms and squeezed them tightly. “They came at me and pulled their guns. I ducked when they pointed them at me and they shot each other. I don’t even know what I did to upset them.” Sirius moved Remus to the other side of the bed and forced him to sit down.
“Those two men worked for my father,” Sirius started to explain.
“Orion Black,” Sirius didn’t need to say more, Remus paled.
“Why, why would they come here,” Remus gestured to his flat with a shaking hand.
“He saw that email you sent and that you hadn’t paid your rent. He isn’t forgiving, but I honestly have no idea what those muppets were thinking.”
“I paid my rent,” Remus pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened his banking app. “No, no, no, no, no! That bastard!” He pulled his hair as he yelled at his phone. “My ex has emptied my bank account. I had the money in there for my rent. I swear I had no intentions of not paying,” He told Sirius in panic.
A phone began ringing. Sirius stared in the direction it was coming from until it stopped. Then another one rang. Then both phones rang.
“Get your things and come with me. You can’t stay here.” Sirius ordered, and when Remus didn’t move, he dove under the bed and pulled out the plastic boxes that held all of Remus’s belongings. “Do you have a bag? Come on Remus, he’ll have sent someone else already.” He found an empty duffle bag in one of the boxes and stuffed as many clothes into it as possible. The rest he put in bin bags and dragged the scared man down to his car. He watched as the blacked-out 4x4 screeched to a halt. Mulciber and Avery jumped out and stormed into the building. They’d gotten out just in time. He started the engine and pulled out of the parking space, Remus secure in the passenger seat. Regulus was going to kill him.
Summary: Hermione just wanted to borrow a cauldron from her friend Greg. When she enters his home alone, with his permission of course, she runs straight into the bulky frame of his father fresh off his latest escape from Azkaban.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/55662745
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