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“Hey! Hey, you! Stop!”

Sirius Black easily ignored the stranger behind him, pushing down the gripping anxiety in his chest. This was the third time in two days he’d been pursued by unknown men, and he was afraid his luck was bound to run out eventually.

Concentrating, he slipped through the traffic of the crowded London sidewalk effortlessly. Shielding his eyes with a pair of sunglasses, he quickly gained ground, distancing himself from the man behind him. Glancing at the reflections in the large, plate glass display window to his right, he noticed the middle-aged man a few feet behind him, a bouquet of red and blue birthday balloons blocking his vision. Sirius saw his chance.

Two days earlier…

“Where have you been, you disrespectful miscreant?”

A wry, humorless smile graced Sirius’ features. That was Walburga Black for you; able to cause a scene despite the presence of her late husband’s funeral party and her “staggering” grief.

“Hello, mother,” he replied lightly, turning to face her. “I’m lovely, and yourself?”

“Don’t you ‘mother’ me, you ungrateful disappointment,” she spat, swaying slightly as she moved toward the stairs, where he stood, poised and tall. “I expected your arrogance,” she jabbed a finger at him, her coal black eyes widening as her movements became increasingly wild. “Your disrespect, your utter disregard for this family!”

He sighed, rolling his eyes dramatically. She growled.

“Walburga, perhaps you should-” her sister began, with a deeply reproachful look at her young nephew.

“Silence!” The enraged woman batted her hands away. “However, I never- never in all my life!” she shrieked hysterically. “Would have imagined that your insolence would extend so far!”

“And just what,” he began, a resentful glare shadowing his face. “Have I done this time, mother?”

“You have shamed your father! You have shamed this family, this Noble House of Black!” She continued, shrugging off her sister’s grasp. “You- you- you disgraceful mark upon this house! You do not deserve for this blood to course through your veins! You do not deserve this power! You left your own father’s funeral!”

He shook his head, turning to continue up the stairs. “Don’t you walk away from me, Sirius Black!”

He kept climbing. “Go find your other son, Walburga. Maybe he’ll mourn correctly,” he responded, unable- or perhaps just unwilling- to suppress the bitterness in his tone.

-X-

When Sirius reached his bedroom, he let out an exaggerated sigh of relief. Aiming his wand near the center of the pitch black chamber, he mumbled a spell, then felt his heart stop as the room lit up. A figure was seated at his desk, feet resting on the surface, facing the door.

“Hello, Sirius.”

The teenage boy let our a ragged breath. “Oh, it’s only you.”

The older man chuckled lightly. “Yes, it’s only your old Uncle Alphard.”

Sirius blinked awkwardly, then shrugged off his dress robes. Stuffing his hands in the pockets of his black dress slacks, he slowly ambled closer to his ancient great uncle. “So, uh… What brings you to my bedroom, Uncle?” He asked nonchalantly.

The aged man gently placed his feet on Sirius’ plush carpet, and supporting his weight with a polished black cane, pushed himself into a standing position. He hobbled, gradually, painfully, to the window, peering down on the Black family grounds through the gap in the heavy curtains.

He took a deep breath, then spoke in an unhurried voice. “Sirius. You are a member of one of the oldest -- perhaps, even, the oldest -- surviving bloodlines in wizarding history.”

Sirius released a rush of air indignantly, setting his face in irritation. “Or so I’ve been reminded. Quite a few times, might I add.”

“I suppose you might,” Alphard Black nodded indulgently. “I know that means little to you, nephew, and I respect your accepting nature,” he turned from the window and began to walk. “You are unprejudiced, and unwavering in your support for what is right. These are, naturally,” he came to a stop before Sirius. “Very good qualities.”

The younger Black nodded, somewhat confused. “Thanks.”

“However, Sirius… You are a member of a highly respected, very highly magical bloodline. You must realize that a background as solid as yours may give you certain advantages… per say.”

Sirius nodded, taking a seat on his bed. “And you are telling me this because…”

“There is certain magic, dear boy, that is so pure… so powerful… that being mingled with nonmagical blood would indeed… weaken it. ‘Taint’ it, some would say. I think not, for it would still be present. However, being nurtured and passed on through generations of powerful wizards has preserved this… delicate…magic, so well that it remains just as strong as it was over a millennia ago.”

He listened, enraptured. “This isn’t normal magic, then?” Sirius commented.

Alphard graced him with a small smile. “Not normal at all,” he agreed. “I cannot tell you when this magic originated. I cannot tell you who has been gifted with it, or what great things it has accomplished. I cannot give you a detailed history lesson,” he revealed regretfully. “I cannot even tell you, with certainty, what possessing this magic feels like, and in turn, entails, because I have never experienced it. All I know is that this power can be a great blessing, or it can be a curse; a curse used for evil things. So many Blacks have used this magic for evil, such evil things…”

“Sirius, it is important that you listen to me carefully,” Alphard spoke more urgently now. “For generations, the firstborn Black male of each generation has been… different. I noticed after my father died, that my older brother, your grandfather, Apus… became very different. He possessed this gift. When Apus died, your father changed. He possessed it as well. And now, it has been passed on to you.”

“What is it, Alphard? How did they change?” Sirius questioned skeptically. He did not feel at all different, and his father had been dead for nearly four days. “Why did my father never tell me of this power?”

Alphard leaned forward. “They had a duty, which most of them ignored. Sirius, you have a duty. And you mustn’t allow this power to corrupt you. Remain as you are; fight for what is right, young man. Your father… he did not have the courage. He had the power, the ability, to be great, but he did not have the courage to do right or to do wrong, so he pretended he was not gifted with the magic. Do not be like your father.”

Sirius heard heavy footsteps climbing the stair outside his bedroom. Alphard looked up, startled. “In the library, there is a bookcase on the east wall. It is the entrance to a passageway. On the third shelf from the bottom, there is book bound in blue. There is no title on the spine. Tap that book, four times, in rapid succession, and say ‘giuro per proteggere.’ I do not know what you will find there, only that there will be answers. Look for a black, leather bound book,” Alphard finished, straightening as the door to the room burst open.

Walburga stood in the doorway, her eyes wild again, finger pointing. “Get away from him this instant! You old, senile, insane man! You get out of this house!”

“Walburga, my dear, I was just on my way,” Alphard replied cordially, relying on his cane to help him move toward the center of the room.

“You’ll do well to remember that you are not welcome in this house, Alphard Black,” she replied sinisterly. “You are not welcome, and neither is your crazy talk! That boy,” she spoke venomously, jabbing in Sirius’ direction, “is not at all special. There is nothing special about him at all!”

“You’ll do well to remember, Walburga, that I am the oldest surviving Black and you cannot ban me from this house,” Alphard replied coldly. “And you should also save that there are some things you have no control over. I apologize for your loss. Sirius, I will keep in touch,” he nodded at the young man. As he took a turn surprisingly quickly for his feeble body, he added as an afterthought, “Do proceed cautiously, dear boy,” then apparated away in an instant.

-X-

Late that very same night, Sirius crept quietly through the doors of the Black Library, relying on his wand as his only source of light. Taking great care not to notify his clinically unstable mother, brownnosing, brainwashed younger brother, or their bloody batty house elf of his actions, he silently closed the doors and locked them behind him.

Ignoring his father’s untouched desk still laden with his favorite books and business memos, he made his way across the plush carpeting. He came to a halt before the sole bookcase on the east wall, mentally counting three shelves up and targeting the blue book. No title was present.

Thoughtfully, Sirius pocketed his wand for a moment. Like himself, Uncle Alphard was frowned upon by a majority of the Black family. Unlike Sirius, however, Uncle Alphard had gone a little ’round the bend about fifteen years ago, when his Moroccan mistress Fatima left him for a merchant. It wasn’t entirely unlikely that the old bugger dreamed the entire story up after one too many glasses of scotch last night. He would feel unbelievable foolish if the entire thing was a mistake…

Still, he considered, no one would ever know.

Resigning himself once again, he retrieved his wand and tapped the book four times.

“Giuro per proteggere,” he whispered urgently. I vow to protect, he translated silently, a thousand questions surfacing in his head.

He waited. Nothing happened.

“Alphard, that old codger. Needs to lie off the crack pipe,” he thought irritably. That feeling of foolishness, the warm wash of embarrassment, was beginning to rise through his body when suddenly, miraculously, the books began shifting, staggering outwards and realigning off to the side. A large opening was revealed, and Sirius was left staring into a dark stone hallway.

“Or maybe I picked up the crack pipe…” Sirius mused aloud, then poised his wand in front of him and took a cautious step forward.

The hallway was drafty and damp, and his footsteps echoed as he continued down the winding and weaving hall. Finally, he came to a door fashioned of roughly hewn wooden planks. It was surprisingly medieval to be a part of the Black Estate, even if it was guarding a secret door down a creepy passageway.

Sirius twisted the door’s wrought iron knob without hesitation, pushing the door inward and walking inside. “Lumos,” he muttered, sweeping his wand around the small room.

The wall directly across from the door was covered with a large bookshelf, which was crammed full of an assortment of books, both neatly organized and overflowing with loose sheets. To his left, a desk sat, a black leather bound book resting on its surface, surrounded by hastily scribbled on parchment and quills. On the right wall was an assortment of weapons, a large map of Britain, and surprisingly, a window. He supposed it was charmed to be unnoticeable from the outside.

The young wizard stepped up to the desk, picking up random pieces of parchment. They were covered with nearly illegible notes, runes, and other symbols he didn’t recognize. Sirius gathered them in a neat pile, then picked up the leather bound portfolio Alphard had seemed so intent on him acquiring. Pulling aside the cord that held the book closed, he opened the front cover and pushed the loose sheets away. Only two words were printed on the first page; “The Brethren” was written in an untidy scrawl, centered on the thick parchment.

He bit his lip, moving to turn the page, but the sound of shattering glass startled him and he stuffed the loose papers in the book, slamming it shut and turning around. Hooded figures were entering through the window.

Sirius immediately cast several stunning spells in succession, hurrying toward the door. One of the figures easily dodged his wandwork, sending out a curse of his own. Bright blue light flashed in the room as Sirius ducked, allowing the spell to hit the wall behind him with a boom. Cracks splintered through the solid stone from the entry point, and before the castor of the spell realized it, Sirius had sent a powerful curse his way with a well placed “Sectumsempra!”

Sirius sent up a shield charm and leapt to the center of the room; only two of the hooded figures remained of the four original, and they were blocking the door. These people, whoever they were, did not want him leaving this room.

The shield charm held the pairs’ curses off for a moment, while Sirius collected his thoughts. He needed to obstruct their vision- distract them, even- long enough to get a spell or two in. He willed for something to hit him, when suddenly one of the men dove through the shield charm.

Quickly shifting his wand to his left hand, Sirius easily met the man with an uppercut to the jaw, sending him staggering backwards. Casting a quick stunning spell in the man by the door’s direction, he was effectively left with only one opponent. The man rushed at him, causing Sirius’ wand and the black book to clatter to the floor as he struggled to stay upright. Sirius blocked a punch with his left arm, retaliating with his right, but he suspected his blows were doing little damage to the other man.

The hooded figure leapt for the center of the room, and Sirius knew he was attempting to reach the book. He jumped at the man, catching him in midair and sending them sliding across the floor, each grappling for the upper hand. Sirius was hit once, twice, three times as they landed, the man on top, before he could summon enough momentum to flip them over. With an exerting grunt, Sirius shoved the man, who was easily three inches taller and much, much wider, off of him. Quickly he stood, scrambling for his wand and the book.

Finally reaching them, he grabbed his wand as he heard the frightening swish of his opponent’s wand behind him. Throwing up a shield charm instinctively, Sirius just barely blocked a powerful spell and nearly didn’t have time to send an answering stunning spell of his own. However, his wandwork hit its mark and the man fell to the ground, finally leaving Sirius as the only conscious man in the room.

Standing up straight, he repositioned the book in his arms, then quickly ran to the wall with the map. He easily pulled it down and shrank it, slipping it inside the book. Then, he grabbed a threatening looking knife off its place on the wall and slipped it in the waistband of his jeans. He picked up a black leather bag hanging on a coat rack just inside the door as an afterthought, since he hadn’t had a chance to inspect it yet. Turning, he sidestepped the bodies on the floor and slammed the door as he walked back through the passageway and into the library.

Forgetting his cautious steps and silence from before his adventure in the secret room, Sirius hurried through the house and into his bedroom. Grabbing his school trunk from the closet and sending out a silent thank you to fate for the fact that he had yet to unpack it, he popped it open and started emptying his drawers. He piled his favorite pairs of jeans, worn tee shirts, hoodies, robes, boxers, socks, books, pictures, his CD collection, and his favorite pillow into his trunk, then slammed it shut, locked it, and shrunk it.

It was time to get the hell out of here.

So, there's the first chapter. I can't wait to introduce my female lead character, and as soon as I move the story where I want it to go, we'll see more of the witty and devastatingly handsome Sirius Black we know and love. Swear. :) Let me know what you think!