Sirius stared at her. "I hate to disappoint you, Mother, but I didn't actually betray the Potters or kill those muggles." He paused. "Actually, that's a lie because I love to disappoint you and would love to continue doing so. Unfortunately, I have recently realised that I have to restore the standing of the Ancient and Noble House of Black so I can take over the wizarding world thus ensuring my guardianship of my godson. So apparently you're going to get some of what you've always wanted."
His mother's portrait stared back at him, speechless.
"Yes," Sirius agreed, understandingly, "I was shocked and horrified myself."
Kreacher's ears perked up and he straightened with a gleam in his oversized eyes. "You intend to restore the standing of the Ancient and Noble House of Black?"
"I do, and as my mother well knows, I can perform the inheritance ritual here." He pointed at the elf. "This place is a mess and not in keeping with either our wealth or reputation. You will immediately begin cleaning and redecorating it starting with the master bedroom and bathroom for my use. Dark artefacts are to be placed in a trunk for my inspection. Neutral colours will be used and you will avoid the depressing gothic horrors of my mother's tastes. I will be in the study."
Kreacher snapped his fingers and popped off before Sirius could say anything more.
XXX
Sirius gave a heavy sigh and turned to his right. He avoided the staircase leading up to the bedrooms, catching a glimpse of a wall decorated with the heads of house elves. They hadn't been there when he'd run away; his mother must have gone completely insane in her final years, he mused. The door to his right would lead to the formal dining room, the informal living room and the Summer room overlooking the garden. He barely glanced at the doors to his left – the reception room with its public floo, and the formal parlour – instead, he took the door at the end of the corridor. It opened up into a cosy library. The main library was at the country estate but Sirius couldn't remember its location because of the Death Fidelius. The knowledge would return to him when he had completed his inheritance ritual. He bypassed the shelves of books, noting he'd have to go through them and put the more dangerous away. The door to the study was to the right and he entered the room with trepidation.
For a moment, he stood just inside the doorway. Kreacher must have raced to get to the room because it was devoid of the dust and decay in the rest of the house even though the décor remained tired and familiar, the ornate wallpaper peeling at the edges. There was a roaring fire, casting warmth across the room and the lamps had been lit. There was also a tea-tray loaded with sandwiches and cake that Sirius hoped Kreacher had conjured and not made given the state of the kitchen.
Sirius breathed in the scent of the old leather chairs; the faint lingering scent of the tobacco his father had preferred. He remembered only too well the last time he'd been in the room; it had been the Summer after his fifth year and his father had asked him bluntly what his allegiances were. Sirius had told him that he would never bow down to Voldemort; that he would never take the Dark Mark; that he would stand beside the House of Potter in the war.
His father had been surprisingly civil and agreeable. He had even suggested having someone on the other side of the war would help reduce the risk that the House would be decimated – after all, if the Light won then hopefully Sirius would be alive to continue the line. Sirius had politely agreed and privately thought he would never be the Head of House despite his father spending years grooming him to be just that; that he would never want to be the Head of House.
The irony was bitter to swallow, Sirius thought with dry amusement. Old history, Sirius told himself briskly. He might never have intended returning but he was there for Harry. He just had to remember that and all else was tolerable.
He sat down in his father's chair – his chair. He ate one of the waiting sandwiches as he reached down and rummaged in the top right drawer. He drew out a selection of wands; his father's, his mother's and his great-grandfather's. He tested each as he finished the make-shift meal and drank the accompanying juice and water. He settled on his great-grandfather's wand of oak with a core of dragon scale. It was an acceptable match and would suffice until his name was cleared and he could replace it.
Sirius pulled out a small ritual bowl and dagger from the bottom drawer. "Familius magicus." He tapped the bowl with his wand making the inside cloud up with swirling silver sparkles of magic. He slashed his palm without ceremony and let the blood drip into the bowl.
"I, Sirius Orion Black, claim by blood, by law, by magic, the House of Black. I swear to lead it with honour and fairness; to protect and shelter those who belong or ally to the House of Black by blood, by law, by magic, by oath; to deliver justice on those who break oath and trust with the House of Black. So have I sworn; so mote it be."
The magic surged out of the bowl and surrounded him; a bright cascading stream of silver that blanketed his core and tested his worthiness. He could barely breathe under the power of it; magic steeped in blood and ritual; magic as black as his name. But he refused to bow to it; he was a Black and the magic was his to command not the other way around. The magic left abruptly and settled before him in the cloudy shape of the house totem: a silver hooded snake. It bowed to him solemnly and disappeared.
It had worked.
Sirius let out a shaky breath and pushed his hand through his wild hair. The strands tangled unexpectedly with a ring on his finger and he drew his hand down to stare at the Lordship ring; a black onyx stone stamped with a silver snake set in a platinum band. The ring had been called to his finger with the ritual. He'd worn the matching Heir ring once upon a time and as his eyes fell to the desk he saw it sitting in the bowl. He gave a sigh, picked up the Heir ring and secured it in the wooden box on his father's desk where the ring had traditionally been kept. A tap of his wand had the box locked and only he would be able to open it.