4

Antares, a bright-eyed six-year-old, sat cross-legged on the plush carpet in Henric Greengrass's spacious room at the Greengrass Manor. The room was adorned with elegant furniture and shelves filled with magical artifacts and books. Henric, a confident seven-year-old with sandy blond hair and a mischievous grin, eagerly flipped through a large, ornate photo album. The pages were filled with moving images—wizards and witches frozen in time, smiling and waving as if they were alive. 

"Look at this one," Henric exclaimed, pointing to a photo of a bustling family gathering. "That's from my grandfather's birthday last summer. Everyone was there, even my cousins from France." 

Antares leaned closer; his fascination evident in his wide, shimmering eyes. "Wow, your family is huge," he marvelled, captivated by the animated figures in the photographs. 

Henric chuckled proudly. "Yeah, we're a big bunch. Here, check out this one." He turned to a page showcasing a magical wildlife reserve, where a young Henric nervously stood beside a majestic hippogriff, captured mid-bow. "That's me with the hippogriff. Scary, right?" 

Antares giggled at the sight. "You look funny," he teased playfully, enjoying the camaraderie. 

Henric grinned, flipping to another page with a flourish. "And here's my favourite—my sister Daphne." He pointed to a photo of a poised girl in a pristine Slytherin uniform, her dark hair neatly tied back and a gleaming green and silver tie around her neck. "This was on her first time she tried her uniform after getting it tailored. She was so proud." 

Antares's eyes widened in admiration. "She's in Slytherin?" 

Henric nodded enthusiastically. "Yep, just like our mum and dad. And I'm going to be in Slytherin too, just you wait. It's the best house, you know." 

Antares nodded eagerly, feeling a surge of excitement. "My mum says I'll be in Slytherin too. Everyone in my family has been in Slytherin. But my brother Sirius," he added hesitantly, "he got sorted into Gryffindor." 

Henric's expression darkened slightly. "Gryffindor? Really? That's not right. It's weird for the heir to be in Gryffindor." 

Antares felt a twinge of defensiveness. "Sirius is still my brother," he insisted, his voice soft but determined. "He's just... different." 

Henric scoffed dismissively. "Different? Gryffindor is full of blood traitors and misfits." 

Antares's brow furrowed, his heart sinking at the harsh words. "Sirius is a Black," he said quietly, trying to steady his voice. 

Henric smirked, his tone mocking. "Sure he is. But Gryffindor is no place for a proper pure-blooded heir." 

Antares's brow furrowed deeply, his young features contorted with a mix of confusion and indignation. "He's still a Black, like my family," he muttered annoyed, his voice barely above a whisper. "We're not filthy blood traitors." 

Henric's grin widened into a smirk, his tone edged with derision. "Sure, sure. If that's what you want to believe." Then he sighed and continued, "Let's just look at the rest of the pictures, shall we?" 

"No, I don't want to look at your stupid pictures and your stupid family," Antares retorted sharply, shoving the photo album away with more force than he intended. The sound of the pages rustling echoed in the otherwise quiet room as he pushed himself up from the chair, his small frame trembling with pent-up frustration. 

Henric's eyebrows shot up in surprise, momentarily taken aback by Antares's sudden outburst. Before he could muster a response, Antares stormed out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the ornate corridors of Greengrass Manor. 

Lost in a whirlwind of emotions, Antares wandered aimlessly until he stumbled upon his mother, Walburga Black, engaged in a discussion with Lady Greengrass in one of the manor's elegant sitting rooms. Their conversation halted abruptly as they noticed Antares's arrival, his usually composed demeanour shattered by anger. 

"Antares, dear, what are you doing here?" Lady Greengrass inquired gently, her gaze flickering between Antares and his mother. "Where's Henric?" 

"I don't wish to be in his presence anymore. He was rude," Antares declared firmly, his voice tinged with defiance as he stood tall before his mother and Lady Greengrass. 

Lady Greengrass raised an eyebrow, exchanging a knowing look with Walburga. "Rude, you say? Children can be quite outspoken." 

Walburga's expression darkened slightly, a subtle tension tightening her features. "What did Henric say to you, Antares?" 

Antares hesitated, the memory of Henric's cutting words still fresh in his mind. "He... he called Sirius a blood traitor and said he was weird. I didn't like it." 

Walburga's jaw clenched visibly, her eyes narrowing with displeasure. "I see," she murmured, her tone betraying a simmering anger. "Lady Greengrass, it appears our children have had a disagreement. I will address this with Antares privately." 

Lady Greengrass nodded understandingly; her expression sympathetic yet guarded. "Of course, Walburga. Children often have their disagreements." 

Walburga turned her attention back to Antares, her voice softer but laced with sternness. "Come with me, Antares. We will discuss this further in private." 

Walburga Black led her youngest son, Antares, through the pristine gardens of Greengrass Manor. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the meticulously trimmed hedges and flower beds, lending an air of tranquility that contrasted sharply with the tension between them. Antares walked a half step behind his mother, his expression a mixture of defiance and uncertainty, the recent confrontation with Henric Greengrass still fresh in his mind. 

As they reached a secluded spot beneath a towering oak tree, Walburga came to a stop and turned to face Antares. Her dark eyes, usually so impassive, bore into him with a stern intensity that made him fidget uncomfortably. 

"You have embarrassed me, Antares," she began, her voice cutting through the quietude like a knife. Her tone brooked no argument, demanding compliance and respect in equal measure. "There is always a way to handle disagreements. One does not resort to shouting or screaming over matters that might offend them. Do you understand?" 

Antares shifted uneasily, the grass rustling under his shoes as he struggled to meet his mother's unwavering gaze. "But Henric—" he started, his voice wavering with a mix of frustration and lingering indignation. 

Walburga raised a hand, cutting him off with a sharp gesture. "No excuses. It does not matter what Henric said. How you react reflects on our family. Shouting only shows weakness. We are Blacks, Antares. We do not stoop to such displays." 

Antares swallowed hard, the lump in his throat growing as his mother's words sank in. "I... I didn't mean to cause trouble," he murmured, feeling a pang of guilt for his outburst. 

"Intentions matter little if the outcome is disgraceful," Walburga replied, her voice softening slightly but still tinged with disappointment. "Regulus would not have reacted this way." 

Antares's shoulders slumped, his eyes cast downward as he absorbed the rebuke. "I'm sorry, Mother," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Walburga regarded him silently for a moment, her expression unreadable. "Control your emotions, Antares. We cannot afford to show weakness. The Black family is respected and feared, and we must always uphold that reputation. Do you understand?" 

Antares nodded solemnly, a knot of determination forming in his chest. "Yes, Mother," he replied, his voice steadier now. 

"Good," Walburga said firmly, her gaze softening just a fraction. "Now, compose yourself. We will return to Lady Greengrass, and you will apologize for your outburst. Remember who you are and the expectations that come with being a Black." 

Antares took a deep breath, steeling himself for the apology ahead. As they walked back towards the manor, he silently vowed to emulate Regulus' calm demeanour and never let his emotions betray him again. In the world of wizarding aristocracy, strength and control were paramount, and he was determined to prove himself worthy of the Black name, no matter the challenges that lay ahead. 

They found Lady Greengrass still seated in the elegant drawing room, her delicate fingers wrapped around a fine china teacup. She looked up as they approached, her brows lifting in polite inquiry. The sunlight streaming through the large windows highlighted the gentle curve of her smile. 

"Lady Greengrass," Antares began, his voice steady and proper, just as his mother had taught him. He clasped his hands in front of him, trying to project the calm demeanor expected of a Black. "I apologize for my earlier outburst. It was inappropriate and unbecoming. I will be going back to apologize to Henric as well. I don't know what came over me." 

Lady Greengrass gave a gracious smile, her eyes flicking to Walburga with a hint of approval. "Thank you, Antares. It takes courage to admit when one is wrong. I appreciate your sincerity." 

Antares nodded, feeling a slight lift in the heavy atmosphere. "I understand, my lady. Excuse me, please." 

With that, he turned and made his way back to Henric's room. The hallways seemed longer now, the path more arduous as he rehearsed his apology in his head. The door to Henric's room was slightly ajar, and he could hear the faint sounds of rustling as Henric moved about inside. He knocked softly before entering, pushing the door open with a tentative hand. 

Henric looked up, his expression a mix of surprise and lingering resentment. His blue eyes, so like his mother's, narrowed slightly as Antares stepped into the room. The room itself was a testament to Henric's interests, with shelves lined with magical artifacts and books, and a large window that let in the golden afternoon light. 

"Henric," Antares began, keeping his tone respectful, "I'm sorry for what I said earlier. It was rude and uncalled for. I let my emotions get the best of me, and I shouldn't have." 

Henric eyed him warily, his lips pressed into a thin line. After a moment of silence that felt like an eternity, he softened slightly. "Okay." 

Antares took another deep breath, relief washing over him. "I hope we can put this behind us and continue to be friends. I don't want any hard feelings between us." 

Henric considered this for a moment, then gave a small nod. "Alright. Just... don't do it again." 

Antares managed a small smile. "I won't. Thank you, Henric." 

As the family gathered for dinner that evening in the dining room at home, Orion Black, the patriarch of the family, reclined at the head of the table, his piercing eyes scanning the room. The atmosphere was formal and rigid.. 

"How was your visit to the Greengrass Manor, Walburga?" Orion inquired, his voice deep and authoritative, cutting through the subdued murmur of conversation. 

Walburga, seated regally beside Orion, glanced over at Antares with a raised eyebrow, prompting him with a stern look. Antares shifted uncomfortably in his seat, suddenly feeling the weight of his mother's expectant gaze upon him. 

"Tell your father what Henric said," Walburga instructed coolly, her tone demanding compliance. 

Antares swallowed nervously, acutely aware of the gravity of his mother's words. "Henric said... he called Sirius a blood traitor," he admitted reluctantly, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Orion's lips curled into a mirthless smile, amusement twinkling in his eyes as he glanced at Walburga. "A blood traitor, you say?" he repeated, his voice tinged with sarcasm. "Our Sirius?" 

Orion chuckled darkly, the sound resonating across the table. "Blood traitor... our own son," he mused aloud, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "That's quite a title." 

Antares, sensing his father's scrutiny, mustered the courage to continue. "Henric said it's because Sirius is in Gryffindor," he added tentatively, his gaze shifting between his parents. 

 "Yes, a Gryffindor," Orion murmured, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "Surrounded by Mudbloods and blood traitors, no doubt." 

Walburga's gaze sharpened as she turned to Sirius, her eldest son, who sat with a composed expression despite the scrutiny. "Well?" she asked, her voice cutting through the tension. "Is it true?" 

Sirius remained silent, his eyes fixed on his mother with an intensity that matched her own. Orion, sensing the need for a response, interjected sharply, "Answer your mother, Sirius." 

The weight of his father's command hung heavy in the air. Sirius hesitated for a moment, his jaw clenched in defiance, before finally muttering a reluctant, "No." 

Orion's expression darkened, his disappointment palpable as he leaned forward, his voice tinged with frustration. "In Gryffindor," he began, his tone cutting through the silence, "defying generations of tradition. Do you remember what your grandfather said to me when you were sorted? 'How did you raise that boy?'" 

Sirius met his father's gaze evenly, the weight of the accusation hitting him hard. He knew the expectations that surrounded his family's name, but the truth was, he was glad to be in Gryffindor and not Slytherin. Gryffindor represented everything he admired—bravery, compassion, and integrity—qualities he believed transcended house boundaries. 

Orion continued, his voice lowering to a bitter murmur. "A Black in Gryffindor... it's almost a mockery of our lineage." 

Sirius felt his anger rise, boiling over in the face of his father's relentless criticism. "Yes, yes, blah blah, we already know," Sirius snapped, his voice dripping with sarcasm and frustration. "You've said it all last year when I came home for Yule. Must you keep going on about it? Get over it—I'm a Gryffindor. It's not like it's going to change." 

The room fell silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Walburga's gaze sharpened, her disapproval evident. "Such disrespect," she muttered under her breath, her voice sharp with indignation. "Apologize to your father, Sirius!" 

Sirius laughed, a hollow, bitter sound. "Or what?" he challenged, his voice rising. "Or what, you'll hit me like you always do? How unique! How different!" 

Orion's face contorted with a mix of shock and anger at his son's outburst. His voice lowered to a dangerous growl, eyes narrowing as he leaned closer. "No," he said darkly, each word dripping with menace. "Hitting you isn't enough." 

The ominous threat hung in the air, sending a chill down Sirius's spine. He stared at his father, a mixture of defiance and fear in his eyes, wondering just what "hitting you isn't enough" might mean. The silence stretched on, filled with unspoken threats and a palpable sense of foreboding. 

Regulus shifted uncomfortably in his seat, torn between his loyalty to his family and his growing admiration for Sirius's courage. Antares, sensing the gravity of the situation, sat wide-eyed and silent, not fully understanding but feeling the weight of the moment. 

Sirius finally broke the silence, his voice softer but no less resolute. "I'm not afraid of you," he said, though the slight tremor in his voice betrayed him. "I'll never be like you." 

Walburga's face twisted in fury, but before she could respond, Orion stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "Enough," he said, his voice cold and final. "Sirius, go to your room. We will discuss your punishment later." 

Sirius didn't need to be told twice. He turned on his heel and left the room, his heart pounding in his chest. 

Antares watched his brother leave the room, his small form sinking into his chair. The tension in the room was almost palpable, and he could feel the weight of his parents' anger. His eyes followed Sirius's retreating figure until he disappeared from sight. 

Suddenly, the deafening bang of Orion's fist slamming onto the table made him jump. The sound reverberated through the room, and Antares's heart pounded in his chest. His father's face was contorted with anger, and he sank back into his chair, a dark cloud hanging over him. 

Antares tried to steady his breathing, telling himself he wasn't scared. He couldn't be scared; he was a Black, after all. He straightened in his seat, trying to adopt the same stern, composed demeanour his parents often wore. His small hands clenched into fists in his lap, mirroring his father's earlier gesture, as he willed himself to be brave. 

He glanced at his mother, her face twisted in a mixture of rage and disappointment. She was never like this when Sirius was at Hogwarts. In those times, the house was quieter, the atmosphere more predictable. Perhaps Sirius should just stay there, he thought. When his brothers were at Hogwarts, it was just him, his father, and mother, and there was no shouting. The house was calmer, and he felt safer. 

Antares's young mind struggled to process the complex emotions swirling around him. He missed the peacefulness that settled over their home when Sirius and Regulus were away. Despite his admiration for his older brothers, he couldn't deny the relief he felt in their absence. The constant tension, the simmering anger, and the inevitable conflicts seemed to vanish when it was just the three of them. 

Orion sat at the head of the dining table; his expression clouded with brooding thoughts. The tension from earlier hung heavy in the air, leaving an uneasy silence in its wake. Antares stood by Regulus's side, unsure of what to do next. 

Regulus sensed his brother's uncertainty and placed a comforting hand on Antares's shoulder. "Come on," he whispered softly, guiding Antares towards the door. "Let's go say goodnight to Mother and Father." 

As they started to leave, Antares hesitated. Suddenly, he made a decision. Breaking away from Regulus, he rushed towards Orion and hugged his side tightly. Orion, taken aback by the unexpected gesture, stiffened slightly before tentatively placing a hand on Antares's back. 

Next, without missing a beat, Antares hurried over to Walburga. He embraced her with equal fervour, surprising her with his display of affection. She looked down at him with a softened expression, momentarily touched by his genuine warmth. 

"Goodnight," Antares murmured as he pulled away from his mother. He darted back to Regulus, a small smile on his face now that he had expressed his feelings. 

Regulus watched as Antares boldly approached their father and then their mother, offering hugs without hesitation. A pang of jealousy tugged at Regulus's heart. He admired his younger brother's courage, envious of the ease with which Antares showed affection. 

In his mind, Regulus played out scenarios where he could go back to being six years old. Even then, he knew he wouldn't have dared to approach their parents so openly. Fear and uncertainty would have held him back, preventing him from expressing such vulnerability. 

Regulus watched as Antares boldly approached their father and then their mother, offering hugs without hesitation. A pang of jealousy tugged at Regulus's heart. He admired his younger brother's courage, envious of the ease with which Antares showed affection. 

In his mind, Regulus played out scenarios where he could go back to being six years old. Even then, he knew he wouldn't have dared to approach their parents so openly. Fear and uncertainty would have held him back, preventing him from expressing such vulnerability.