Chapter 185: The Ominous Blacks
Kreacher the house-elf didn't discover Lockhart's group. He grumbled at the noisy Muggle street outside the window, then, hearing his mistress's call from afar, quickly turned and scurried deeper into the corridor.
After a while, only the clamour of the Muggle street outside the window remained at the corner. The entire corridor was eerily silent, shrouded in a strange, deathly stillness.
Tonks found this peculiar silence unbearable and began to struggle against the wall.
"Don't move."
A low voice came from beside her ear, strangely resonating through the wall and her ear bones, echoing in her head.
The sound was unsettling, and Tonks instinctively twisted her body again in protest.
Just then, the sound of bare feet on wooden floorboards came from around the stairwell. A girl who looked somewhat similar to her, with light steps, ran down, gripping the banister.
Soon, two more girls of similar age followed, one appearing gentle, the other aristocratic.
"Mum~"
Tonks quieted, staring blankly at the girl who ran ahead, smiling and turning back to call to her two sisters.
Finally, when the three girls, chatting and laughing, disappeared from view, a faint, glowing light like phosphorescence spread before her eyes, and her vision was pulled back into the wall.
It was an extremely peculiar sensation, as if being encased within hard stone and wood, embedded yet able to move, sticky and sluggish.
"Let's go. We need to be careful; the Black family ancestral home isn't that easy to infiltrate."
Lockhart held up his wand, its tip casting a light forward, guiding Tonks and Madam Mary slowly through the walls.
Finally, they arrived in the drawing-room.
At that time, the Black family was still prosperous. The drawing-room lights were bright, and house-elves, carrying food and steaming mugs, weaved through the crowd, serving every master.
A drowsy old man sat by the fireplace with a blanket over his knees. Not far away, several adults were raising their glasses, engaged in lively discussion. Two boys of the younger generation played separately, while three girls frolicked and laughed.
Lockhart's control over magic was clearly at an advanced level. As they moved into the corner of the drawing-room wall, none of the Blacks or house-elves noticed them.
He made no extra movements, simply waiting patiently.
This journey, traversing Bellatrix's memories with the aid of the Time-Turner and Apparition, was clearly not an ordinary day. Something important was bound to happen next, and he merely needed to wait.
Indeed, before long, the three girls approached their two cousins to play. As they chatted, an argument suddenly erupted.
"I just won't learn!" a child yelled furiously, drawing the attention of the adults.
This child was impeccably dressed in exquisite, classical aristocratic attire, with elegant, beautiful black hair, and was very handsome.
"That's Sirius," Tonks whispered, prompting Lockhart.
Even though her mother had been disowned by the family for marrying a Muggle before Tonks was born, as a new Auror often assigned to routine inspections at Azkaban, she was quite familiar with figures like Sirius and Bellatrix who had sided with the Dark Lord.
(P.S.: According to Auror files, Sirius admitted to causing the deaths of the Potters and killing a dozen Muggles on a street, and was imprisoned in Azkaban as a minion of the Dark Lord. This is also the impression most people have of Sirius, believing him to be an undercover agent.)
Lockhart nodded, carefully waving his wand to suppress any magical ripples caused by Tonks's voice.
"I just won't learn Dark Arts!" Sirius pushed away his brother, who was pulling at him, and angrily looked at the adults. "You all say our Black family has the noblest pure-blood lineage, so I don't understand why the so-called noblest Blacks have to become Dark Wizards?"
"Sirius!" His mother was beside herself with rage, yelling and dropping her wine glass, about to lunge forward and slap him. Fortunately, Bellatrix's mother, who was nearby, held her back.
The old man by the fireplace slowly raised his head, sighed, and sadly closed his eyes.
"Because it's not Dark Arts, and those who learn Dark Arts aren't Dark Wizards!" Sirius's father, Orion Black, said in a deep voice, striding forward. He looked down coldly at his always rebellious son. "I should never have let you go to that damned Hogwarts!"
His gaze was filled with fury. "Hogwarts's notions are always so absurd—what Dark Arts, what Dark Wizards. Child, remember this: historically, all wizards have been evil, and historically, all magic has been evil!"
Sirius froze, and the other children gasped in disbelief.
"Orion, my brother, you can't talk to the child like that," Bellatrix's father, Cygnus Black, shook his head. He stepped forward, looking at the young generation of Blacks. "Children, magic has always been the same; it has never changed. What has changed is the era. This era has categorized many spells as 'Dark Arts' and declared those who master them to be Dark Wizards."
He spread his hands. "We pure-blood families don't oppose the construction of such a modern magical system; in fact, we, along with many other families, promoted this reform for the times."
"Because the Ministry of Magic's laws will forbid most wizards from using these powerful and dangerous spells, while for us pure-blood families, for us noble Blacks, the Ministry's laws cannot restrict us."
"This gives us a distinct advantage."
He looked down at Sirius, smiling faintly. "I know. I've been through your struggles, always pondering good and evil in my heart. But please remember, to maintain the glory of the Blacks, you cannot foolishly cut off your own advantages, blindly conforming to deliberately manufactured societal standards of value, and ultimately fade into obscurity."
Young Sirius clearly didn't understand such reasoning, nor would he listen. He merely sneered in rebuttal, "The glory of the Blacks, through Dark Arts? I'd rather have none!"
"I'll beat you, you beast!" Sirius's father was enraged, roaring as he lunged forward, only to be grabbed by his brother, Cygnus.
"Hey, my brother, you won't solve anything like this," he persuaded and soothed. When his brother angrily broke free and walked away to calm down, he turned back to the youngsters.
He pointed to the family crest on the wall. "Black, meaning darkness, evil, ominous!"
"I know everyone has good intentions and desires for beauty, so they always despise darkness, evil, and ill omens. But there's no help for it; such blood flows in our veins—"
He looked gently into the eyes of each child. "Such ominous magical bloodlines always lead to various accidents for us, causing us to die early. Children, perhaps when you grow up, you may never see us old folks again."
"Dad!" His daughters grew uneasy hearing such a description, Narcissa even gripping her father's arm tightly.
"This is a fact. Brief and powerful, it forges the glory of the Blacks. Only through the continuation of our bloodline can the Blacks achieve eternity."
He walked over, looking down at Sirius, whose expression was complex, and smiled faintly. "Child, I know you won't listen now, but I hope you remember my words. Perhaps one day in the future, you will suddenly comprehend this truth yourself."
"Why do we say the Blacks are the noblest and oldest family? Why do even the other so-called Sacred Twenty-Eight pure-blood families acknowledge us as having inherently noble magical blood?"
"It's because the most ancient wizards were dark, evil, and ominous."
"Wizards have always been like this, drawing powerful strength from mystery, from evil, from ill omens, appearing in ominous places, bringing ominous prophecies, exuding an ominous aura. Muggles feel this deeply; from ancient times to the present, it has always been so."
"Wrong!" A sharp rebuke suddenly came from behind, causing everyone to turn their heads. It was the old man by the fireplace.
That was Sirius's grandfather, Arcturus Black. He looked so sorrowful. "The times are changing drastically, children."
His voice was so aged, every syllable seemed to be pulling at a tearing bellows, making it so difficult to speak. "My father, Phineas Black, my father who served as Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—his name, to uphold Black tradition, he wrote his middle name as Nigellus, meaning black, dark, ominous—"
"He told me he was despairing because he found that his generation might be the end of the Blacks, because the dark, ominous, mysterious era belonging to wizards had passed."
"He was powerless against it, suffering to the point of madness."
Grandfather Arcturus looked deeply at Sirius, smiling faintly. "If you don't want to learn Dark Arts, then don't. Perhaps you can forge a new path for the Blacks."
"Nonsense!" Sirius's father roared furiously. "You're dead, do you understand? Stop talking rubbish here. You're always like this, acting so enlightened, but the family's burden is always carried by others!"
He forcefully drew his wand and waved it at the fireplace. The warm flames within instantly extinguished, and the old man's figure vanished from the chair by the fireplace.
Having done this, he stood up with a fierce gaze, strode forward, and looked down intently at Sirius. "You were born a Black, Black magical blood flows in your veins, and the power of this magical bloodline has flowed through the river of history, constantly drawing strength from the darkness, evil, and ill omens of wizards!"
"This is your bloodline, a bloodline you cannot shed, and it is the task you bear!"
"If you betray your bloodline, you will find that you will quickly fall from your smug, excellent self into a weak form. You will even find that your bloodline begins to betray you; you will be devoured by darkness, evil, and ill omens!"
"Darkness, evil, and ill omens are not derogatory terms. They are definitions given by modern wizards. Wizards have been like this for a thousand years of history."
"It is your glory, and your curse!"
"If you don't learn Dark Arts, haha, let me tell you, you will very likely be attacked by terrifying Dark Arts. You will be thrown into cold lake water and devoured, or thrown into a place like Azkaban to be stripped of everything by Dementors, ultimately killed by Dark Arts!"
"Because that is the magical bloodline!"
He stared intently at Sirius. "Have I made myself clear enough?"
Sirius stiffened his neck, looking back defiantly. "Then I'd rather it be so!"
"Good!" Sirius's father was so enraged he seemed about to explode. "Then I'd rather not have a son like you! The Black family doesn't need someone who betrays their bloodline and betrays the Blacks!"
"Now!"
He forcefully pointed at the main door. "Please leave our Black family gathering! You don't belong here!"
"I'm going!" Sirius retorted, not to be outdone. "Evil bloodlines disgust me! Glory maintained by wickedness is meaningless!"
Bang~!
He kicked open the door and stormed out furiously.
The surrounding youngsters were stunned. They never imagined that a simple argument among them would lead to Sirius being disowned by the family.
Because Sirius's father had furiously used a lit cigarette to burn Sirius's name off the family tapestry on the wall.
....
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