2

Three years had passed since Antares had entered their lives, and Sirius found himself increasingly frustrated with his youngest brother's constant presence. Antares, now a lively toddler with boundless energy, seemed determined to be a part of everything Sirius and Regulus did, much to Sirius's irritation. 

"Mummy, can I play with Sirius and Reggie?" Antares would ask almost every day, his wide eyes filled with hope. 

Sirius would roll his eyes and huff, muttering under his breath, "Not again, the littlest star is back." 

Yet, no matter how much Sirius tried to shake him off, Antares would toddle after him with unwavering determination. One afternoon, as Sirius and Regulus built an elaborate fort in the living room with cushions and blankets, Antares watched from a distance, his tiny fingers clutching his favourite stuffed bunny. 

"Sirius, can I help?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper, afraid of another rejection. 

"No, Antares. This is a big kids' fort," Sirius snapped, trying to focus on balancing the cushions just right. 

Regulus, always the peacemaker, gave Antares a small smile. "Maybe you can be the guard, Antares. Make sure no one else gets in." 

Antares's face lit up with a brilliant smile, and he nodded enthusiastically. "Okay! I'll be the best guard ever!" 

Despite his new role, Antares couldn't help but inch closer, his curiosity getting the better of him. As Sirius tried to place the final blanket roof, Antares's little hand reached out to help. The blanket slipped, and the whole fort collapsed in a heap. 

"Antares!" Sirius shouted, his face red with frustration. "You ruined it!" 

Antares's lower lip quivered, and tears welled up in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Siri. I just wanted to help." 

Regulus quickly wrapped an arm around Antares, trying to soothe him. "It's okay, Antares. We'll build it again." 

Sirius, however, stomped off to his room, slamming the door behind him. Antares's sobs echoed through the house, and Regulus held him close, whispering comforting words. 

That evening his mother had visited him, and when she left, he had a bruise on his right cheek, it didn't hurt compared to the other times he was in trouble though. 

The following week, Sirius found himself more patient with Antares, though the little toddler still managed to test his limits. One sunny morning, Sirius decided to explore the nearby woods with Regulus. As they prepared their backpacks with snacks and a map, Antares, clutching his stuffed bunny, stood at the doorway with his signature hopeful look. 

"Please, can I come too?" Antares asked, his voice a mixture of excitement and pleading. 

Sirius sighed. "Antares, we're going on an adventure. It might be too much for you." 

Regulus nudged Sirius with a gentle elbow. "Maybe he can ride on your shoulders when he gets tired." 

Sirius rolled his eyes but couldn't deny his younger brother's enthusiasm. "Fine, but you have to promise to be good and not slow us down." 

Antares nodded fervently, his face lighting up with a broad smile. "I promise, Siri!" 

They set off down the path that led into the woods, Antares holding Sirius's hand tightly, his tiny legs working hard to keep up. As they walked, Antares pointed out every butterfly, flower, and interesting rock, his excitement contagious despite Sirius's initial reluctance. 

After a while, Antares began to lag behind, his steps growing slower. Sirius noticed and hoisted him up onto his shoulders. "Alright, littlest star, up you go." 

Antares giggled, holding onto Sirius's hair. "I'm tall now like you, Siri!" 

Regulus chuckled, watching them with a smile. "Looks like you have a good view up there, Antares." 

As they ventured deeper into the woods, Sirius found himself answering Antares's endless stream of questions. "What's that bird called? Why are the leaves green? Can we find a squirrel?" 

Despite himself, Sirius started to enjoy sharing his knowledge and seeing the world through Antares's wide, curious eyes. They reached a small clearing with a sparkling stream, and Sirius set Antares down to explore. 

"Stay close, Antares," Sirius warned, though his tone was softer than before. 

Antares happily splashed in the shallow water, laughing as he chased after the tiny fish darting around his feet. Regulus sat on a nearby rock, munching on an apple and watching them with a relaxed smile. 

Sirius found a flat stone and began skipping it across the water, impressing Antares who clapped his hands in delight. "Show me how, Siri!" 

Sirius sighed but secretly was glad he asked, he knelt down, finding a smooth pebble for Antares. "Hold it like this, and throw it sideways, not too hard." 

Antares mimicked his older brother, managing to make the stone skip once before it plopped into the water. His face lit up with pride. "I did it! Did you see, Siri?" 

Sirius ruffled his hair, trying to hide his smile. "Yeah, I saw. It wasn't... the worst littlest star." 

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the woods, they headed back home, Antares once again riding on Sirius's shoulders. He leaned forward, resting his head on Sirius's, his tiny hands playing with Sirius's hair. 

"Siri," Antares murmured sleepily, "you're the best big brother." 

Sirius flushed at the comment, feeling a warmth spread through him that he hadn't expected. He pretended not to hear it, his pride refusing to acknowledge the compliment openly. 

Instead, he gave Antares's leg a gentle squeeze, his voice gruff. "Yeah, whatever, don't fall asleep up there, littlest star." 

Regulus, walking beside them, noticed the flush on Sirius's cheeks and hid a knowing smile. 

Sometimes Sirius liked the littlest star- only sometimes. 

The following day, Sirius found himself once again in the company of his youngest brother. Despite the pleasant adventure in the woods, his patience was wearing thin. Antares, as usual, was determined to be by his side at every moment. 

In the late afternoon, Sirius and Regulus were in the middle of an intense game of wizards' chess in the living room. Antares hovered nearby; his stuffed bunny clutched tightly in his small hands. 

"Sirius, can I play too?" Antares asked, his voice filled with innocent excitement. 

Sirius sighed, his patience finally snapping. "No, Antares. You're too little. Go play with your toys or something." 

Antares's face fell, his eyes filling with tears. "But I just want to be with you, Siri." 

"Well, I don't want you here!" Sirius snapped; his voice harsher than he intended. "You always ruin everything!" 

Antares recoiled as if he'd been slapped, his lip trembling. He turned and ran out of the room, leaving his stuffed bunny behind. Regulus shot Sirius a disapproving look. 

"That was too harsh, Sirius," Regulus said quietly. 

Sirius crossed his arms, his face set in a stubborn scowl. "He needs to learn he can't follow me everywhere." 

Minutes later, their father stormed into the room, his face stern and filled with disappointment. "Sirius, we need to talk. Now." 

Sirius stood up, his stomach sinking. "What is it, father?" 

"Antares came to me in tears. He said you yelled at him and told him he ruins everything. Is this true?" his father demanded, his voice cold and authoritative. 

Sirius felt a wave of guilt but held his ground. "He needs to learn to give me space, father." 

His father's eyes narrowed. "Sirius, you are my heir. It is your responsibility to set an example. What you did was wrong. Antares looks up to you, and he is only three years old. He doesn't understand why you're being so cruel." 

"But he always follows me around!" Sirius protested. 

"And he does that because he loves you," his father replied, his tone hardening. "You need to find a way to include him, not push him away. You will apologize to your brother." 

Sirius clenched his fists, feeling a mixture of guilt and frustration. "Fine." 

His father's gaze bore into him, making it clear that this was not up for debate. "Now, Sirius." 

Sirius nodded stiffly, his resentment bubbling under the surface. He walked down the hall to Antares's room, where he found his little brother curled up on his bed.

"Antares," Sirius said, his voice lacking warmth. 

Antares looked up; his eyes still red from crying. "Yes, Siri?" 

Sirius took a deep breath, struggling to keep his pride in check. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I shouldn't have said what I did." 

Antares blinked, his expression a mix of hope and confusion. "It's okay, Siri." 

Sirius sighed, his frustration creeping into his voice. "Look, Antares, I don't have time for your childish ways. I have important things to do. You need to understand that." 

Antares's face fell again, but he nodded slowly. "I understand, Siri." 

Sirius turned to leave, feeling a hollow sense of victory. As he walked back to the living room, he couldn't shake the image of Antares's sad, confused face from his mind. His father's disappointment weighed heavily on him, and he knew he had failed to live up to the expectations placed upon him. 

Regulus looked up as Sirius re-entered the room, his eyes questioning. "Did you apologize?" 

"Yeah, I did," Sirius muttered, sinking back into his chair. 

Regulus sighed, shaking his head. "It's not just about saying the words, Sirius. You need to mean it." 

Sirius didn't respond, instead focusing intently on the chessboard. Deep down, he knew Regulus was right. But his pride and resentment kept him from admitting it, even to himself. 

As the days passed, the rift between Sirius and Antares seemed to grow wider. 

One sunny afternoon in the garden, Sirius and Regulus were engrossed in a game of Gobstones. Sirius was carefully strategizing his moves when Antares toddled over, his footsteps hesitant yet eager. 

"Can I play too?" Antares asked innocently, his bright eyes wide with anticipation. 

Sirius sighed inwardly, exchanging a glance with Regulus who wore a small, encouraging smile. "This game is for big boys, Antares," Sirius replied coolly, using the formal name rather than Regulus's nickname for him. "You won't understand how to play." 

Antares's face fell, a hint of hurt crossing his features before he straightened his small frame defiantly. "I'm a big boy!" 

Sirius suppressed a sigh, finding little amusement in Antares's declaration. "You're too little to play," he stated firmly, his patience wearing thin. "You'll just mess it up. Go play with Kreacher or something." 

Regulus, sensing the tension, stepped in diplomatically. "Come on, Sirius," he said softly, casting a sympathetic look towards Antares. "He's just trying to be like us." 

"I don't care," Sirius retorted, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "He's too young. He'll ruin everything." 

Antares, undeterred by Sirius's dismissive attitude, stomped his foot defiantly. "I'm not little!" he protested, his lower lip trembling. "I'm big!" 

Sirius let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Fine," he relented begrudgingly, more out of resignation than genuine acceptance. "You can watch, but don't touch anything." 

Antares's face lit up with a mixture of relief and determination as he settled down beside the Gobstones board, eager to be a part of their game in any capacity. Sirius tried to focus on his moves, but his irritation lingered, overshadowing the afternoon with an uncomfortable tension. 

Antares, curious and eager to join in, watched intently from the sidelines, his small hands twitching with the desire to participate. 

Unable to resist his curiosity any longer, Antares reached forward, fingers brushing against one of the brightly coloured marbles on the edge of the board. His face lit up with fascination as he picked it up, examining it with wide-eyed wonder. 

"No, Antares! Leave that alone!" Sirius snapped sharply, his patience worn thin from the constant disruption. He leaned forward, his voice laced with irritation. 

Antares froze, his lower lip quivering as he looked up at Sirius with hurt in his eyes, trying so hard not to cry. "But... my marble..." he murmured softly, his small voice barely above a whisper. 

Regulus, sensing the tension, rushed forward, placing himself between Sirius and Antares. "Don't yell at him, Sirius!" Regulus shouted, his voice tinged with anger. "He just wants to play!" 

Sirius clenched his fists, trying to rein in his frustration. He knew Regulus was right, but the resentment simmered beneath his skin, clouding his judgment. 

"Give it back, Antares," Sirius demanded through gritted teeth, his tone softer but still edged with annoyance. 

Antares shook his head defiantly, tears brimming in his eyes. "No! You're mean, Siri! Meany!" he cried out, clutching the marble tightly to his chest. 

The tension in the garden escalated, Sirius's temper flaring as he struggled to maintain control. In his frustration, he reached out to snatch the marble from Antares's grasp, his movements rougher than intended. 

Antares let out a startled cry as Sirius accidentally brushed against his hand, causing him to stumble backwards. The cry caught the attention of their mother, Walburga Black, who appeared in the garden with a sharp intake of breath. 

"What is going on here?" Walburga demanded, her voice cutting through the tension like a whip. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the scene before her—Antares with tears streaking down his cheeks and blood trickling from a small cut on his hand, Regulus standing protectively in front of him, and Sirius, visibly shaken by his own actions. 

Antares clutched his bleeding hand, his face contorted in pain and fear. "Siri hurt me!" he sobbed, his voice trembling. 

Walburga's expression hardened as she turned her gaze to Sirius. "Sirius Orion Black, what have you done?" she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. 

"I didn't mean to—" Sirius began, but the words caught in his throat as he saw the fury in his mother's eyes. 

"Inside. Now," Walburga ordered, her tone brooking no argument. She knelt down to examine Antares's injury, her touch surprisingly gentle as she inspected the cut. 

Sirius stood rooted to the spot, his heart pounding with fear and regret. He knew there was no way he would escape punishment for this. 

Walburga stood, her gaze never leaving Sirius. "Go to your room, Sirius. We will discuss your punishment later," she said coldly. 

Sirius turned and fled, tears stinging his eyes as he ran inside. He could hear Antares's cries and Walburga's soothing murmurs fading behind him. 

Sirius sat in his room, the weight of his actions settling heavily upon him. The garden incident replayed in his mind like a relentless loop, each moment etched with regret and shame. He knew what was coming—his mother's punishment was swift and severe, a reminder of his place and the consequences of his behaviour. 

Later that evening, Walburga Black entered his room with a stern expression. Sirius flinched instinctively at her presence, his heart sinking with dread. There was no escape from her judgment, no way to avoid the consequences of his outburst. 

"You have shamed our family today, Sirius," his mother's voice was cold and measured, devoid of any sympathy. "You will learn discipline and respect." 

The punishment was swift and harsh. Sirius was disciplined physically, leaving bruises that throbbed with each painful reminder of his wrongdoing. He was denied dinner that night and breakfast the next morning, forced to reflect on his actions in solitude and hunger. 

As Sirius lay on his bed, tears welled up in his eyes. The pain, both physical and emotional, was overwhelming. He tried to stifle his sobs, biting down hard on his lip to suppress any outward sign of weakness. He was ten years old now, a Black, and he needed to act like it—composed, strong, and unwavering. 

But the tears refused to be held back. They streamed down his cheeks, silent witnesses to his inner turmoil. Sirius wiped them away roughly, angry at himself for showing such vulnerability. He couldn't afford to appear weak, not in front of his mother, not in front of anyone. 

"I'm not a child," he whispered to himself, trying to regain control. "I'm Sirius Orion Black. I can't cry." 

Yet, the ache in his chest persisted, a painful reminder of his failure. He had hurt Antares, his own brother, unintentionally but irreparably. The guilt gnawed at him, a heavy burden that he struggled to bear. 

Did his mother hate him? The thought lingered in the recesses of his mind, a terrifying prospect that he dared not fully entertain. Mothers discipline their children when they misbehave—that was what he told himself. It was a lesson, a harsh one, but necessary to uphold the dignity and reputation of the House of Black. 

But as Sirius lay there, bruised and hungry, he couldn't shake the feeling of abandonment, of unworthiness. He needed to prove himself, to show that he was worthy of the Black name, of his father's pride, and perhaps, deep down, of his mother's love. 

After a night of solitary reflection and punishment, Sirius was finally allowed out of his room for lunch the next day. The atmosphere in the dining room was tense and subdued, each member of the Black family silently consumed by their own thoughts. 

Orion Black, sitting at the head of the table, broke the heavy silence with a stern voice that made Sirius tense even further. "Sirius," his father began, his tone measured but firm, "what transpired yesterday?" 

Sirius swallowed nervously, his gaze flickering between his father's steely eyes and the untouched plate before him. "I... I got upset with Antares," he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Orion's expression darkened slightly; disappointment etched into his features. "Upset?" he repeated, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down Sirius's spine. "You harmed your brother, Sirius. This is not the behaviour expected of a Black." 

Sirius bit his lip, his heart sinking with each word of reproach. He had expected his father's disapproval, but facing it was another matter entirely. 

"I... I didn't mean to," Sirius stammered, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and shame. 

Orion's eyes bore into Sirius, his disappointment palpable. "You must apologise to your brother," he commanded, his voice brooking no argument. "And reflect on your actions. What went wrong with your upbringing that you would act so impulsively?" 

Sirius struggled to find words, his mind racing to justify his actions while knowing deep down that there was no excuse for hurting Antares. 

"He's only three, Sirius," Orion continued, his voice rising slightly in frustration. "How old are you? Ten years old, and yet you behave in such a manner towards your baby brother?" 

Sirius hung his head, unable to meet his father's gaze. Guilt weighed heavily upon him, a suffocating burden that threatened to consume him. 

Orion's disappointment intensified as he spoke, each word punctuated by a growing sense of frustration. "Time and time again, you disappoint me," he said sharply, his hand slamming down on the table with a resounding thud. "As if you wish to shame me." 

The force of Orion's words reverberated through the room, leaving Sirius feeling small and inadequate. He had always strived to meet his father's expectations, to uphold the honour of the Black family name. Yet, in that moment, he felt like a failure. 

"I'm sorry," Sirius whispered hoarsely, his voice barely audible amidst the tension in the room. "I'm so sorry, Father." 

Orion's expression softened marginally, his features betraying a mix of frustration and paternal concern. "Apologise to Antares," he instructed firmly, his voice gentler but no less commanding. "And think long and hard about what it means to be a Black." 

Sirius nodded solemnly, his throat tight with unshed tears. He knew he had to make amends, not just to Antares but to his father, to prove that he was worthy of the Black legacy. 

As the meal continued in strained silence. 

Walburga Black's sharp voice cut through the air like a whip. 

"Sirius," she began, her tone icy and unforgiving, "what you did was disgraceful. You have shamed this family." 

Sirius flinched at her words, his heart sinking further into his chest. He knew his mother's judgment was as harsh as his father's, if not more so. He dared not look up, afraid to meet her piercing gaze. 

Walburga's attention shifted to Regulus, who sat beside Sirius, his young face a mixture of concern and uncertainty. "Regulus," she said sharply, her voice softening just slightly as she turned to her younger son, "never behave like your brother. Learn from his mistakes." 

Regulus nodded silently, his eyes flickering briefly towards Sirius before lowering his gaze to his plate. He knew better than to speak out of turn, especially in the presence of their parents' disappointment. 

Walburga turned back to Sirius, her gaze cold and unyielding. "Learn something from Regulus," she instructed sharply, her words laden with expectation and reproach. 

Sirius felt a lump form in his throat, a bitter mixture of shame and resentment swelling within him. He wanted to defend himself, to explain that he hadn't meant to hurt Antares, but he knew it was futile. His mother's disapproval was a crushing weight that he couldn't bear to face. 

"I will," Sirius managed to whisper hoarsely, his voice barely audible amidst the palpable tension in the room. 

Walburga's lips tightened into a thin line, her disappointment evident in every line of her face. Without another word, she rose from her seat, her gaze lingering on Sirius for a moment longer before she swept out of the room. 

The silence that followed her departure was suffocating, the weight of her words and his father's disappointment settling heavily upon Sirius's shoulders. He knew he had let them down, had tarnished the Black name with his impulsive actions. 

The atmosphere between them was thick with unspoken tension and regret. Regulus moved around the dining table to sit beside Sirius. 

For a while, neither of them spoke. The weight of the day's events hung heavy in the air, casting a pall over their usually close relationship. Regulus hesitated, unsure of how to break the silence or offer comfort to his older brother. 

Finally, he cleared his throat softly. "Does it hurt a lot?" Regulus asked tentatively, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Sirius glanced at Regulus, surprised by the concern in his younger brother's eyes. He shook his head slightly. "Not much," he muttered, his voice rough with emotion. 

Regulus nodded slowly, his fingers tracing the edge of the bedspread nervously. "I... I didn't mean to tell Mother about what happened," he admitted quietly, his gaze dropping to his lap. 

Sirius looked at Regulus with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. He knew Regulus had always looked up to him, even when they disagreed or argued. Yet, in that moment, he realized how much he valued Regulus's loyalty and understanding. 

"It's okay, Reg," Sirius said softly, reaching out to pat his brother's shoulder reassuringly. "You were just worried." 

Regulus nodded again, a small smile flickering across his face briefly before it faded into seriousness. "You shouldn't have yelled at Ressy," he ventured cautiously, glancing up at Sirius with concern. 

Sirius sighed heavily, guilt gnawing at his insides once more. "I know," he admitted quietly. "I shouldn't have. I didn't mean to hurt him, Reg. I just... got angry." 

Regulus nodded again, his expression somber. "He cried a lot after you left," he murmured, his voice tinged with sadness. "Mother had to calm him down." 

Sirius closed his eyes briefly, regret washing over him anew. "I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely, the weight of his actions settling heavily upon him once more. 

Regulus reached out and squeezed Sirius's hand gently, a silent gesture of forgiveness and understanding. "You'll make it right, Sirius," he said quietly, his voice steady despite the emotional turmoil of the day. "You always do." 

Sirius looked at Regulus, his heart swelling with gratitude for his brother's unwavering support. He knew he had a long way to go to earn back his family's trust and respect, but with Regulus by his side, he felt a flicker of hope that he could redeem himself. 

"Thanks, Reg," Sirius murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I... I'll make things right." 

Regulus nodded, a small smile returning to his face. "I know you will," he said simply, squeezing Sirius's hand once more before standing up to leave. 

Before he could leave Sirius asked him this. "Do you hate Antares?" 

"Why would I hate Antares?" Regulus finally asked, genuine confusion creasing his brow. "He's just a little kid." 

Sirius frowned, his confusion evident. "Because he takes all of Mother's attention," he replied bitterly. "Everything is always about him—Antares this, Antares that. Don't you see? It's not fair." 

Regulus fell silent, his gaze dropping to his hands as he wrestled with his thoughts. "I... I guess I see it," he admitted reluctantly. "How Mother treats him compared to us." 

Sirius nodded, a pang of bitterness tightening his chest. "Exactly," he muttered, his voice tinged with resentment. 

"I don't think Mother ever wanted to have us, really. But Antares... I think she wanted him. He makes her happy, so that's fine." 

Regulus glanced up at Sirius, his expression conflicted. "Mother was never happy," he murmured softly. "So I'm glad they're both happy." 

The honesty in Regulus's words caught Sirius off guard. He hadn't expected such insight from his younger brother, nor had he considered the possibility that Antares brought their mother a happiness that had always seemed elusive. 

"But what about us, Reg?" Sirius asked quietly, his voice betraying a hint of vulnerability. "Don't we deserve her love too?" 

Regulus hesitated, his gaze meeting Sirius's with a mixture of sadness and resignation. "I don't know, Sirius," he admitted quietly. 

Sirius swallowed hard, his throat tightening with unspoken emotions as he watched Regulus leave. 

Sirius stood outside Antares's room, his hand trembling as he gripped the doorknob. He knew he had to face the consequences of his actions, but the memory of Antares's tear-filled eyes and terrified screams echoed in his mind. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Sirius pushed open the door gently and stepped inside. 

As soon as Antares saw Sirius enter, his eyes widened with fear, and he scrambled back, his chubby face contorted with panic. "No! Go away!" he cried out, his voice shrill with terror. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he hugged his knees close to his chest. 

Sirius froze, his heart sinking at the sight of Antares's distress. He felt a wave of guilt wash over him, realizing how deeply he had hurt his youngest brother. 

"Antares, please," Sirius pleaded softly, his voice thick with remorse. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." 

But Antares continued to sob, his cries echoing in the room. He shook his head frantically, his fear palpable. "No, no, my marble! Go away!" he repeated, his words muffled by his tears. 

Sirius felt a lump form in his throat, his own eyes stinging with unshed tears. He had never seen Antares so frightened of him before, and it tore at his heart. 

"I brought you something," Sirius said desperately, inching closer to Antares but keeping a safe distance. He pulled out a small box from his pocket and opened it to reveal a collection of brightly colored marbles. "Look, Antares," he urged gently, hoping to divert his brother's attention. 

Antares glanced at the marbles through tear-filled eyes, his curiosity momentarily piqued. But then he turned away, burying his face in his arms as he continued to cry. 

Sirius's chest tightened with anguish. He had caused Antares so much pain, and now he didn't know how to fix it. 

Taking a deep breath, Sirius knelt down slowly beside Antares, his voice gentle and soothing. "I'm so sorry, Antares," he whispered, reaching out hesitantly to brush a tear from Antares's cheek. "I didn't mean to yell at you. I promise." 

Antares peeked up at Sirius through watery eyes, his fear gradually subsiding but still visibly shaken. He sniffled, his bottom lip quivering as he hiccupped through his tears. 

Sirius took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I brought these marbles for you," he said softly, nudging the box closer to Antares. "They're yours. Would you like to see?" 

Antares hesitated, his tear-stained cheeks still glistening. Slowly, he reached out with trembling hands, his fingers brushing against the smooth surface of the marbles. His chubby face twisted with curiosity as he picked one up, examining it closely. 

Sirius watched anxiously, his heart in his throat. He had never felt so awful, so unworthy of his brother's trust. 

Then, unexpectedly, Antares looked up at Sirius, tears still fresh on his cheeks. His gaze held a mixture of confusion and longing as he asked in a small voice, "My marbles?" 

Sirius nodded, his own eyes filling with tears. "Yes, Antares," he replied hoarsely. "They're all yours." 

Antares blinked, his tiny fingers tightening around the marble. He sniffled again; the remnants of his cries still audible. 

Sirius felt a surge of emotion overwhelm him. He wanted to apologize a thousand times over, to take back the hurtful words and the frightening moment that had shattered their bond. 

"I'm so sorry," Sirius whispered again, his voice trembling. 

Before Sirius could say anything more, the door burst open with a force that made both brother's startle. Walburga Black stood in the doorway, her eyes blazing with fury as she took in the scene before her. Without a moment's hesitation, she strode into the room, her sharp heels clicking ominously against the floor. 

"What is going on here?" she demanded, her voice cutting through the air like a whip. She turned to Kreacher, who had followed her into the room. "Stay with Antares," she ordered briskly, her gaze never leaving Sirius. 

Sirius felt a knot tighten in his chest as he tried to find the words to explain, but Walburga gave him no chance. Her cold eyes bore into him, her lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval. 

"Mum, wait," Sirius pleaded, his voice cracking with desperation. "I didn't do anything wrong. I was just—" 

But Walburga cut him off sharply. "Silence!" she snapped, her voice echoing in the small room. She grabbed Sirius roughly by the arm, her grip firm and unyielding. 

Sirius's eyes widened with panic as he struggled against her hold. "Please, Mum," he cried out, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I didn't hurt him. I promise!" 

But Walburga ignored his pleas, her expression unmoved by his tears. She dragged him out of Antares's room and down the corridor towards the living room, Sirius stumbling to keep up with her brisk pace. 

"Let me go!" Sirius begged; his voice raw with anguish. "I love him, Mum! I didn't mean to scare him! I'm your son too, yet you're treating me like I'm not. Please, Mum!" 

Walburga's grip tightened even more, her nails digging into Sirius's arm painfully. "You have shamed this family, Sirius," she said icily, her voice laced with disappointment. "You have no excuse for your behaviour." 

Sirius's sobs grew louder, each step down the corridor feeling like a march towards his doom. "I didn't mean to," he whispered, his voice breaking as he pleaded again. "I love him, I swear. I didn't mean to scare him." 

Walburga halted abruptly, turning to face him with a stern expression. Her eyes, cold and unyielding, bore into him. "Love? You speak of love after what you've done? You have no idea what it means to be a Black, to uphold the dignity and honour of this family. Your actions speak louder than your pitiful words." 

Sirius trembled under her gaze, the weight of her disappointment crushing him. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible. 

Walburga's face softened slightly, but her grip did not loosen. "Sorry is not enough, Sirius. You must understand the gravity of your actions and the consequences they bring. You are a Black, and with that name comes responsibility. You will learn to respect that, even if it means enduring punishment." 

She dragged him the rest of the way to the living room, where she finally released him. Sirius fell to his knees, gasping for breath, his arm throbbing where her nails had dug in. Walburga stood over him, her expression a mix of anger and disappointment. 

"You will stay here until your father returns," she said coldly. "And you will think about what you have done." 

As she turned to leave, Sirius called out weakly, "Mum, please... I'm your son too." 

Walburga paused, her back to him. "You are my son, Sirius. But until you learn to behave like one, you will be treated accordingly." Without another word, she left the room, the door closing behind her with a finality that echoed in Sirius's heart. 

Left alone, Sirius curled into a ball on the floor, his sobs echoing in the empty room. The wait for his father's return felt like an eternity, each passing minute filled with dread and fear. When the door finally opened and Orion Black stepped in, Sirius knew his fate was sealed. His father's expression was as stern as his mother's had been, and Sirius knew there would be no mercy. 

"Your left arm, Sirius," Orion demanded, his voice cold and unyielding, as he stood there, belt in hand. 

Panic surged through Sirius, and he cried even more than before. "I didn't do anything, Father! I promise! Mother is a liar—I didn't do anything to Antares! I only apologized, and he was just upset. Please, I didn't do anything wrong. Please! I swear it, please!" 

Orion's expression remained unmoved. "Enough," he said, his voice like ice. "You need to learn. This behaviour is unacceptable." 

... 

Later that evening, Kreacher attended to Sirius's wounded left arm in the dimly lit confines of Sirius's room. The air was heavy with silence as Kreacher worked, his gnarled hands surprisingly gentle despite his usual gruff demeanour. Sirius sat quietly on his bed, his face stained with tears that had long since dried, his eyes red and puffy from crying. 

Kreacher glanced up at Sirius occasionally, his eyes filled with a mix of concern and disapproval. He had been with the Black family for generations, serving them faithfully, and he knew all too well the complexities of their dynamics. But even Kreacher couldn't help but feel sympathy for the young boy sitting before him, wounded not just physically but emotionally. 

Sirius stared at the floor, lost in his thoughts. His father's words echoed in his mind like a relentless refrain. He wasn't allowed to be alone with Antares anymore. The realization stung, but Sirius knew there was no point in arguing. He didn't want to risk more punishment, didn't want to disappoint his father further. 

Kreacher finished bandaging Sirius's arm with a final, tight knot. He cleared his throat gruffly before speaking, breaking the heavy silence that hung between them like a shroud. "Master Sirius should be more careful," he muttered, his voice low and rough. 

Sirius's jaw clenched, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "I know that, Kreacher," he snapped, his tone sharper than he intended. "You don't have to lecture me." 

Kreacher's eyes narrowed, a flash of annoyance crossing his wrinkled face. "Master Sirius is too quick to anger," he retorted, his voice dripping with disdain. "Like his father, like his grandfather." 

Sirius recoiled at Kreacher's words, his anger flaring into white-hot rage. "You have no right to speak to me like that," he spat, his fists clenched at his sides. "You're just a servant." 

Kreacher's lips curled into a sneer, his eyes cold and unyielding. "And you are just a spoiled child," he shot back, his voice laced with venom. "Thinking you are above reproach, above consequence." 

Sirius bristled at the insult, his chest heaving with indignation. "How dare you," he seethed, his voice trembling with fury. "You're nothing but a miserable old elf, clinging to the scraps of respect you think you deserve." 

Kreacher's eyes flashed with fury, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "You insolent brat," he growled, his voice low and menacing. "You will learn your place, Master Sirius, one way or another." 

Sirius glared at Kreacher, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to lash out, to unleash his anger upon the elf who dared to speak to him in such a manner. But deep down, beneath the rage and indignation, he knew Kreacher was right. He had let his temper get the best of him, just like his father, just like his grandfather. 

With a frustrated sigh, Sirius turned away from Kreacher, his fists unclenching at his sides. 

Anger, frustration, and deep-seated resentment churned within him like a tempest. He hated his father's sternness, his mother's coldness, and the stifling expectations of the Black family legacy. The weight of it all bore down on him until he felt utterly suffocated. 

He buried his face in his hands, clutching at his hair as if trying to hold himself together. Tears streamed down his cheeks unchecked, his shoulders shaking with each choked sob. The walls of his room seemed to close in around him, trapping him in a suffocating silence that mirrored the turmoil within. 

"Kreacher," Sirius croaked hoarsely, his voice raw with anguish. "Get out." 

The elf hesitated for a moment, as if unsure whether to obey, but Sirius's tone brooked no argument. Kreacher bowed silently and shuffled out of the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. 

Alone in the dimly lit room, Sirius let out a guttural cry of frustration and pain. He pounded his fists against the mattress, his chest heaving with each ragged breath. He wanted to scream, to vent the rage and despair that threatened to consume him whole. 

"I hate them," Sirius muttered bitterly to the empty room, his voice filled with venom. "I hate them all." 

He knew it was futile to deny his feelings any longer. The resentment had been building within him for years, festering beneath a facade of obedience and conformity. Now, it poured out of him like a torrential downpour, washing away the last vestiges of restraint. 

With trembling hands, Sirius wiped the tears from his cheeks, his heart still heavy but his mind strangely calm. He knew he couldn't change his family; couldn't erase the scars they had left on him. But perhaps, in acknowledging his hatred and facing it head-on, he could begin to find a way forward. 

As he lay back on his bed, exhaustion washing over him, Sirius stared up at the ceiling. 

Sirius whispered hoarsely into the stillness of his room, his voice barely audible even to himself, "I hate them." 

His words hung in the air like a bitter lament, a confession of the deep-seated resentment that gnawed at his soul. He curled into a tight ball on his bed, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees, seeking solace in the smallness of his own presence. 

The weight of his emotions pressed down upon him, crushing and suffocating. Tears welled up in his eyes once more, silently trailing down his cheeks as he lay there in the dim light, the darkness of his thoughts matching the shadows that enveloped him.