Disclaimer: Anything that is recognisable is borrowed from Order of the Phoenix. The world of Harry Potter does, of course, belong to Jo, but the OC is mine.

Updated: Monday 1st January 2007 (got to get used to writing that!)
Edited: Wednesday 2nd January 2008 (where has the year gone?) Story is now as DH compliant as I care to make it. Major changes pertain to Arcturus' dealings with Kreacher.

Chapter 01: Woven In Time

Time was standing still. Sirius could not believe his eyes. The afternoon had started like any other. With a house full of Weasleys, as well as his godson and the feminine third of the 'Gryffindor Trio' underfoot, the adults had been at odds about how to keep the teenagers busy… and indoors. They had just completed de-doxy-fying the drapery in the front rooms of the ancient and noble house of Black when it had happened. Attention had been drawn to the tattered old tapestry that had once proudly illustrated seven centuries of lineage, and Sirius had played the part of accommodating host by pointing out a few of the more notorious members of his family's ancestry.

The easily overlooked line of thread trailing from under his brother's name sprang out on the worn, faded cloth like a beacon once the keen Seeker's eyes had alerted him to its existence. Questions had followed… questions Sirius could not answer. Questions that were coming to his mind before even leaving the lips of the surrounding teenagers. Later, Sirius made a note to thank Hermione for her insightfulness, the girl having swiftly shepherded the conversation away from the tapestry's startling revelation, thus allowing Sirius to wallow in his shock. Yes, he had his own questions, and they had to be answered first.

Surprisingly, it appeared that more than one Black had succeeded in eluding the omniscient headmaster, with the old man as much in the dark as the escaped convict. A frenzied search of the ancestral home leant to the theory that someone had returned to the house in the time since the death of Sirius' mother. Only Blacks of the direct line – that is, from his father's side – could have had access to the property, and according to the tapestry the next to last of the direct line had died as recently as three years earlier. Whatever the case, there was no sign that either of Sirius' parents had known about their unexpected grandchild… and Sirius knew the child was unexpected since the boy had been born before he'd even gone to Azkaban and he'd not heard anything until now.

Of course, there were still the odd drawer or cupboard that no amount of magic could open – and Sirius was loath to try – but for all intents and purposes the only evidence remained the half-hidden name on the bottom of the wretched tapestry.

'Arcturus Black. 1979 – '

No date of death had been given. A second name above the illusive Black heir detailed a union between his brother and a woman named Eleanora von Astor. Since the family tree did not detail the birth and death details of Black spouses, Sirius had no way of knowing if the woman was dead or alive; let alone if she had remarried and raised the child by a different name. With the manner in which Regulus had died, Sirius could see the logic in the younger man's wife and child going into hiding.

What side of the war this strange new sister-in-law was on, Sirius did not know; but he was inclined to find out. Despite everything that had transpired between himself and his brother, he just couldn't feel right discarding the bonds of blood without knowing he had at least tried first. He may have been raised to be competitive with and against his younger sibling, but he had never managed to hate Regulus like he did their parents. Regulus was a soft touch; he may have been stupid and malleable to their mother's every whim, but Sirius just couldn't hate him for it. The younger Black had barely been nine when Sirius had 'shamed the family' by being Sorted into Gryffindor, and though Sirius had been unable to appreciate it at the time, Regulus really didn't know any better.

In the years following his emancipation from his parent's clutches, Sirius had kept a lazy eye on his brother's progress. Only Regulus could have left school with only his OWLs and taken a dead-end job in Knockturn Alley with their parent's approval. 'Sponsored' mentions in the society pages of the Daily Prophet had hinted to a teenaged romance between his brother and an illusive 'foreigner', but as the war intensified, Regulus dropped from the social radar, and Sirius' attentions. The older brother had readily assumed that Regulus' going to ground coincided with his association with the Dark Lord… he'd never dreamed that the kid had run off and started a family of all things.

Sitting now at his father's old desk, the rich mahogany one of the few pieces of furniture charmed to maintain its grandeur; Sirius contemplated the letter he'd never imagine he'd have to write. Reflecting some more as the words struggled to form in his mind, Sirius was reminded of all the unanswered letters Regulus had attempted to send him in the years immediately prior to his untimely death. At first, Sirius had humoured the teenager's solicitations, reading each letter his brother sent him as the deluded Slytherin preached to him about the virtues of obedience and the 'honour' of Slytherin house. But as the letters kept coming, never saying anything new, Sirius simply stopped reading them; sending them back unopened. Now, for the first time, Sirius began to wonder just what may have been in those later letters, and he found himself feeling a little of what Regulus may have felt each time he'd attempted to send a letter. At the time, Sirius had been of the arrogant mind that if his brother had something truly important to say, then he would not have restricted his words to a letter precedent ensured would not be read. Now, however, as Sirius found himself with no other means of locating this mysterious leg of his family, he could only hope that the intended recipients were smarter than himself.

Tying the awkward, short note to the talon of the Order's most inconspicuous owl, Sirius wondered what awaited the bird at the other end. Was his brother's wife still living? There was certainly no record of any new Black attending Hogwarts… had another man claimed the boy as their own? A few discreet enquiries had revealed that his brother's wife had indeed gone missing around the time of her husband's death and that the girl's parents lived in north-eastern Europe, leading quiet, unobtrusive lives – entirely apart from the pending battle raging between purebloods in the isles. Sirius could only hope that his brother's widow and son were absconded in the maternal family compound, staying far away from the influences that had ultimately corrupted and killed Regulus.

Fully anticipating the owl's round-trip to take upwards of a week, Sirius was surprised to find a reply tapping on his window early the next morning. Gingerly removing the neatly attached envelope from the small bird's talon, Sirius recognised his father's distinctive wax seal immediately.

'Well, that's one mystery solved,' he thought to himself.

Unceremoniously breaking the blood-red seal – the unrecognised head of the family too familiar with the Black crest and all its sinister undertones to revere it – Sirius unfolded the equally short reply to his initial correspondence.

There are some matters that cannot be trusted to an owl. I am waiting outside in the square. Come alone in whatever disguise you feel you require; I will find you.

Arcturus P. Black

A shiver went down Sirius' spine; he had to consciously remind himself that the letter in his possession was penned by a boy no older than 16, and not by the child's namesake. The correspondence was typical of the Blacks of old: direct and to the point, devoid of personal affectations, yet not without an agenda. The Slytherin-raised side of Sirius could see the test within his nephew's words; the challenge calling upon his impulsive Gryffindor character to blindly demonstrate his trust. It did not escape Sirius' thoughts that the timely invitation could be a trap, but he knew implicitly that if he attempted to prolong things, he'd lose all chance of reconciliation.

One benefit of being a Black in the ancient and noble house thereof was that avenues of escape had a habit of presenting themselves unbeknownst to the guests within its walls. Truth be told, it was not the first time Sirius was contemplating a trip outside, but with the trappings of a mid-summer dawn set to blanket the sky within the hour, it would be the first time he'd ventured out without the cover of darkness.

"If I'm caught, I'll never hear the end of it," he mumbled to himself, undecided on what he feared more: the Ministry, or Molly Weasley's reprisals for non-compliance.

Casting a basic appearance charm over his hair and a Notice-me-Not charm that would repel any who were not aware of his presence, Sirius could only hope that it would be enough. Favouring the dewy grass over the loud gravel of the garden path, Sirius scanned the seemingly empty square self-consciously. Hands burrowing deep into the pockets of his overcoat, fingers instinctively gripping the handle of his wand as his ears strained to pick up the faintest sounds, Sirius was alarmed to note how exposed and cagey he felt in the open air. Although the note had warned him that he would be sought, the sudden presence behind him was almost enough to send him leaping out of his skin… particularly because he hadn't picked up on the stealthy approach.

"A little jumpy, aren't we?" an amused voice leered, causing Sirius to spin around, wide-eyed. "I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be as brave as they are stupid."

Squaring his shoulders in indignation, Sirius narrowed his eyes at the strange looking boy who had caught him unawares. His sharp retort died on his lips when took in the boy's appearance. The Arcturus Black who had written that note – the one whom Sirius had pictured in his mind – looked nothing like the scrawny, dishevelled, vagrant before him.

"Don't look so surprised, you're not the only Black with cause to be incognito," Arcturus said airily, looking his newly acquainted uncle up and down critically. "Though if I must say, you didn't really try very hard."

"You wouldn't have recognised me if I had!" Sirius protested weakly, only to be swiftly cut off by a short, mirthless laugh.

"I've been tracking your movements for the past month," said the teen with a snort. "I am more than capable of identifying your gait, particularly since you never saw fit to alter it at all during all those midnight sojourns. If I were you, I'd count my blessings that no one else was paying attention."

"How could you have known it was me?" demanded Sirius, spluttering. He'd worn a full compliment of different Glamours all those other times he'd ventured outside the boundaries of the family home.

Arcturus snorted again, this time shaking his head slowly.
"Are you entirely unaware of the books in our forefather's collection?" he raised a brow and grinned malevolently. "There are ways… if you are resourceful…"

Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, Sirius grappled with the possible implications of the boy's statement. One question, however, stood out against all else.
"What have you been doing out here all month?" he asked.

"Hiding," the boy replied without hesitation, his grey-green eyes darting back and forth as though searching for something. "Lucius Malfoy has been trying to 'take me home for the summer' ever since the end of my second year. That first year I'd just gotten into the house before he'd turned up to intercept me here in the square. Last year I accepted a summer internship, working abroad, and so avoided him entirely; and well this year I just can't seem to find the house. I don't suppose you have anything to do with that?"

Though it concerned him that his nephew had been coming back to Grimmauld Place every summer, alone, the only thing that registered in Sirius' mind at that moment was the mention of Lucius Malfoy, in the square.

"Malfoy's been here?" he asked, suddenly on edge.

"Oh don't worry, he doesn't come himself anymore," said Arcturus nonchalantly; "though he does roster a few minions to keep an eye out. He's rather fixated on getting access to the heirlooms inside the house, and Narcissa seems to think an allegiance between Draco and I would be most advantageous."

"What?" Sirius gaped.

"Course, I can't stand the conceited little shite, and I'll not care to be exploited by the man who extorted a ludicrous dowry for his wife's hand."

"If Lucius Malfoy is after you, why stick around in the one place he is most likely to find you?" Sirius waited with baited breath for the boy's response. What he'd really wanted to ask was why the teen hadn't sought him out if he'd supposedly been recognised during his nightly walks, but then he realised that he would not have been very receptive; not before Harry had pointed out his nephew's name on the neglected family tapestry.

Arcturus considered his words before responding. Opening his mouth to speak, he stopped himself quickly, covering with a shrug.
"The most effective places to hide are in plain sight. Besides, someone had to keep the eyes of Malfoy's men away from the strange goings on," he said dismissively. "Certain contingents of your Order's members are not exactly discreet…"

"Order?" alarm bells started ringing in Sirius' head. He'd never said anything about the Order.

Arcturus raised his brows and nodded grimly.
"My point exactly," he said. After a brief pause, he added. "It was spelled so that you couldn't see my name, you know… the tapestry, I mean. Did you bring documentation from the house's Secret Keeper, or am I going to have to wait? I am of course assuming that it's a Fidelius in play…"

Sirius nodded distractedly and fumbled around in his pocket for a small piece of parchment before stopping himself short.
"Wait! How do I even know… I'm sorry to have to say this, but I mean how am I to know that you are who you say you are?"

The teen tilted his head to one side and met Sirius' eyes with a calculating expression.
"Well considering that I do not recall revealing my identity to you at any point during this riveting little interlude, I'll conclude that you really want a mark of trust, hmm?" At Sirius' awkward nod, the boy sighed imperturbably and rolled his eyes. Without hesitation, he then handed over his wand.

"This is Regulus' wand!" Sirius spluttered in surprise, looking around them distractedly for any signs of Muggles. He was alarmed instead, by how light it had gotten; the grey beginnings of dawn bathing the streetscape in cool steel shadow. His nephew, meanwhile, crossed the road to stand in front of the hidden house, and wandlessly removed his disguise.

Once Sirius was alongside him, the teenager looked up at the older man and spoke.
"I trust that both your questions are now answered?" he said with an expectant look. The resemblance to his father, Regulus, was unmistakable.

Wordlessly, Sirius showed his nephew the piece of parchment, only to be taken aback by how quickly the house then appeared. Reading the question from his face, Arcturus Black smirked.
"Of course, it helps that I know what to look for."

Sirius followed his nephew's eyes towards the house that now stood before them, pausing contemplatively. Asides from the brilliant cerulean blue of the teenager's eyes, and the muddy brown of his hair, Arcturus Black was the image of his father. Leading the way up the narrow stone steps that led to the splintered front door, Sirius halted them both before it had a chance to be opened.
"Has anyone told you…" he said, his mouth dry, "how much you…"

"-Look like my father?" finished Arcturus, sounding bored. With a haunted look crossing over his face, he turned away. "I don't need anyone to tell me that in order to know… are we going inside or what?"

"Yes," said Sirius, sensing yet another thing that needed further explanation, but being too preoccupied by a more immediate issue to pose his questions. "I just need a minute to, um, work out how I am going to explain things…"

The teen stopped in his tracks, his hand pausing on the door handle.
"Get a hold of yourself!" he snapped. "You're a Black, bloody well act like one! We don't answer to anyone in our house!"

Lips curling in appreciation, Sirius nodded.
"I'll keep that in mind," he said wryly, squaring his shoulders and pulling himself up a little taller. "But you so clearly have not met Molly."

Arcturus muttered something indecipherable under his breath and proceeded to push the door open. He'd gotten halfway across the hall, his own destination clear in his mind, when Sirius called him back.

"Where are you going?" he said, closing the door behind them softly and scurrying to catch up with the teen, who was now at the bottom of the staircase.

"Upstairs to retrieve what I came for," said the boy without even breaking his stride. He started up the stairs, Sirius hot on his heels.

"Wait! You can't just go charging up there – people are still asleep!" he tried to reason with the child, his voice in a dramatic stage whisper, the weary Animagus eager to not wake his mother's portrait… or anyone else.

Arcturus reached the top landing and stopped suddenly, spinning around on his heels to face Sirius, who jerked to a halt a few steps below the boy, leaving them eye-to-eye.

"I will not slink around the house of my fathers, concealing my rightful presence!" he said in a low voice, his eyes ablaze with fierce determination.

Staring back at the lad in consideration, Sirius weighed out his options, backing away in defeat when he realised that he'd be better served saving himself for other battles. For reasons unknown, the child had evidently grown up in this house, and Sirius did not want to create an unnecessary wedge between them by denying the boy the right to treat the place like his home.

"Fair enough," he said, relenting. "Everyone's going to see you at breakfast anyway… but let me come with you, yeah? Some of my, uh, guests may be inclined to hex first and ask questions later-"

Arcturus shot him a dirty look, as though at odds as to what was the larger insult: being ordered about in his home or treated like an infant.
"I can handle myself, thank you very much," he said tersely, snatching his wand back from where it had been resting, forgotten, in Sirius' hand. "And for your information, I do not intend to be here for breakfast."

Arcturus was halfway down the hall before the meanings of his words had registered in Sirius' mind; the Animagus left standing stock-still at the top of the stairs. Coming back to his senses just in time to see his nephew standing directly outside the room that slept the youngest male Gryffindors of the house, his protective instincts kicked in.
"You can't go in there – that's Harry's bedroom!"

His cry of alarm fell on deaf ears, however, as Arcturus strode into the room without hesitation, closing the door in his wake. By the time Sirius reached his godson's room, its occupants had become aware of their unidentified intruder and reacted accordingly. The sight that then met his eyes when he burst into the room was a complete surprise. Harry and Ron were backed up against a wall, their wands sailing across the room in mid-air, towards his nephew's outstretched hand.
"You'll get these back when I take my leave," the boy promised, looking up to meet his uncle's eyes as he deftly pocketed both wands. "I was duly warned that the guests in this house liked to hex first and question later."

Ron's protests were cut off by a distinguished voice on the wall.
"Bravo! Bravo, Arcturus!" the pompous portrait of Phineas Nigellus clapped appreciatively, the corners of his pointed beard twitching as he smiled indulgently. "Spectacularly executed, my boy! You've certainly improved since I saw you last! Sirius… I see you've happened across your wayward nephew at last! You'll do well to take a leaf out of his book, young man; this boy's as sharp as they come."

"Hello, Pater Phin," said Arcturus reverently, favouring the oil canvas with a bow. "I thank you for your appraisal. It has been too long."

"Pater Phin?" Sirius mimicked his nephew's words with a look of mild betrayal. The portrait of the former Hogwarts headmaster had clearly known of the boy's existence all this time and yet despite his own innocence being established amongst the images in Dumbledore's office, the Black ancestor had said nothing. Glaring at the former Slytherin head, Sirius could have sworn that the image shrugged, the movement seemingly displaced alongside the self-assured painting's aristocratic pose.

Whilst Sirius had been having a silent staring match with the immortalisation of his grandfather several times over, the two dark-haired teenagers were staging their own stand off.
"You're Arcturus Black?" said Harry quietly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose nervously. "Sirius' nephew… from the tapestry?"

Arcturus' brows shot up at the younger boy's inarticulate prattling, and he shook his head slowly.

"And people actually wonder why there are those of our kind who believe that Muggles have no place raising wizarding children!" thin lips curled into a disproving sneer. "There's no need for me to ask who you might be – though I must say, your reputation is rather… superfluous."

Ron had found his voice at last.
"Who do you think you are?" he snapped defensively, loyally placing himself the strange new boy and his best friend. "What do you mean those of our kind? I have nothing against people raised by Muggles… only your Death Eater buddies think that way!"

The change over Arcturus' demeanour was instantaneous. Before anyone could even see what was happening, the older boy had drawn his wand and leapt forward, plunging its tip into the flesh of Ron's neck.
"Are you calling me a Death Eater?" Arcturus hissed, the teen so angry that his hands were shaking with barely controlled rage.

When Harry threw himself into the mix, trying to physically protect his friend, Sirius came to his senses and stepped in, prying the boys apart.
"Stop!" he cried out in alarm. Turning to his nephew, he rested a firm hand on the boy's shoulder. "No one is calling anyone a Death Eater, all right?"

"You don't sound so convinced," Arcturus said coolly, hearing the doubt in his uncle's voice. Pushing up the sleeves of his shirt, he brandished his unblemished forearm for all to see. "Satisfied?" he glared at the redheaded teenager. "Everyone who does not agree with your principles is not automatically a Death Eater, and I'll have you know that I take particular offence at the suggestion that I would be foolish enough to follow in my father's stead when it resulted in the death of both my parents!"

"Your mother's dead?" Sirius said, dumbfounded, his hand jerking away from the boy's shoulder as though suddenly burned from the shock.

"No," drawled Arcturus sarcastically, "I loiter around park squares and travel alone for my health. Of course she's bloody well dead! Do you really suppose I would have lived here all my life if she were alive?"

"You live here?" said Harry in disbelief, eyes wide.

"I did, this was my room," Arcturus shot back, with an accusing look at Sirius for unwittingly giving his bedroom away. Turning towards a bank of cupboards against the far wall, he set about his business. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have some packing to do-"

"Packing?" said Ron dumbly, watching in growing awe as the room's rightful owner effortlessly opened the wardrobe doors and began pulling things out at random. "Hey, how'd you do that? We've tried for weeks to get those doors to open! My brother Bill reckons they were locked with unbreakable charms… and he's a curse-breaker, y'know!"

"Is he?" said Arcturus sarcastically. "Well you'll do well to listen to him then, since these doors were all charmed with unbreakable locking spells."

"Oh, well then how'd you get them to open, then?" said Ron without thinking.

"Because he's the one who locked them that way, you imbecilic boy!" said the portrait of Phineas Nigellus, scowling. "Honestly, I will have to have a word with Dumbledore about just what he's teaching at that school. The standard seems to have been lowered since my day…"

"Indeed," Arcturus agreed, sharing a conspiring look with his forefather before pulling a charmed rucksack from the top shelf of his wardrobe and filling it with possessions.

"Hey, kid, what are you doing?" said Sirius suddenly, realising that his nephew wasn't simply preparing to move into another room. He stepped forward and intercepted a silk-lined winter cloak from being rolled up inside the bottomless travel sack. "I thought you were only messing with me when you said you weren't staying… why don't you stay? If you've got nowhere else to be, I'd like the chance to get to know you; I mean I thought you agreed to meet with me to do that…"

In what was fast becoming a familiar action, Arcturus tilted his head to one side and cocked a brow.
"If I am not mistaken," he said, tapping a finger to his lower lip in thought, "I do believe that I said only that some matters were not trusted to Owls. Incidentally, I was referring to the collection of my belongings; if you drew another conclusion, then you were mistaken. To be clear, I have no intentions of 'getting to know you'."

Sirius looked as though he had just been slapped. Coming up alongside him and seeing the look that crossed over his godfather's face, Harry leapt to the stunned man's defences.
"Why not?" Harry blurted. "He's your family, isn't he?"

"So's Bellatrix Lestrange, but you don't see me sending her a birthday card," sneered Arcturus, his nose upturned.

"Yeah, mate, but Sirius is a good bloke, he's one of the good guys," said Ron, looking at Arcturus quizzically.

"This coming from the hothead who accused me of being a Death Eater the last time he opened his mouth," scoffed Arcturus, bowing his head to continue rigorously stuffing things into his rucksack. A hand on his wrist stopped him again, and he looked up into the eyes of his uncle, who was now leaning very close.

"Whether you like it or not, I have a right to know a few things," said Sirius firmly, exerting his power as head of the household. Certain things may be revoked legally, but magical rites of heirloom could never be denied. "I can understand if you don't want to stay here – Merlin, kid, do you think this is the place I'd want to be if I had a choice? – But I will not let you leave until I have some questions answered."

Narrowing his eyes into slits, Arcturus wrenched his wrist out of his uncle's grip and took a step back.
"Answers?" he growled. "You want answers! You have some nerve, demanding answers from me, you know that?"

At Sirius' blank look, the boy continued to rampage.
"Maybe if you had actually read the letters my father sent you, then you wouldn't have so many questions!"

Sirius stopped short, staring at the boy in astonishment.
"You… you know about those?" he said in a hoarse voice.

Seemingly ignoring the man's question, Arcturus turned his back to his uncle and knelt in front of his open wardrobe, leaning inside it slightly. From there, he proceeded to wrench up a panel of flooring within the cupboard, revealing a shallow cavity underneath. Reaching under the floorboard, Arcturus wordlessly pulled a small, rectangular shaped wooden box from its hiding spot and stood, reverently wiping the dust from the carved lid with his sleeve before thrusting the container towards his uncle.
"He kept every single damn one," said Arcturus in explanation. "Had the seals charmed too, so only you could open the bloody things. It took me two years, but I managed to work around it-"

Sirius accepted the small box and opened it, listlessly thumbing through the envelopes of old parchment inside. Noticing that the seal on each letter had indeed been compromised, he looked up at his nephew uncomfortably.
"You read them?"

"They're the only thing I have that tell of my parents time together," Arcturus shrugged. "I suggest you take the time to read them before you demand answers from me. Now if you'll excuse me –" he was cut off by the arrival of the house's resident House Elf, " – Kreacher!"

"Little Master has returned!" Kreacher bowed lowly in front of the blue-eyed teen. "Kreacher was hearing the portraits talking… they is saying how much Little Master has grown! Will Master be staying now?"

In a move that surprised everyone, Arcturus' face softened ever so slightly and he crouched down to address the elf eye-to-eye.
"Good morning, Kreacher," he greeted softly. "I'm afraid I am just passing through, today."

"But Little Master only just got here! Little Master has not been home in over a year!" protested the grovelling elf. "Kreacher is being worried that Little Master has not been taking proper care of himself while he has been outside in the square-"

"-You knew I was out there?" Arcturus cut in, avoiding Sirius' questioning look.

"Kreacher could feel Little Master nearby but did not leave because Little Master told him not to," Kreacher reminded his master, though he sounded rather put out by the restriction. "Kreacher knew Little Master could not get into the Ancient and Most Noble House of his forefathers, but there was nothing Kreacher could do about it-"

"That's a lie!" Sirius hissed at the filthy little elf, sneering in habitual distaste despite the rapport his nephew seemed to have developed. "You could have come to me, you manipulative little rat! How was I supposed to know we'd left a kid out in the cold when we cast that Charm?"

"Don't blame the elf for your own misinformation," said Arcturus coolly, rising to his full height and rounding on his estranged uncle. "Unlike yourself, Kreacher was only following orders."

Sirius gave his nephew a guilty look, but found he was too curious about the boy's apparent tolerance of the family's elf. As though the lad were capable of reading his mind, Arcturus spoke curtly.
"Why are you so surprised? Malevolence begets malevolence, you do realise… treat an elf well and he will treat you well," he philosophised. Giving Sirius a hard look, he drove his point home. "I want to make it clear now that I will not tolerate this elf being mistreated in my presence. You may have your reasons to hold him in contempt, but it weren't for Kreacher I'd never have inherited my father's wand…"

"How did Kreacher get the thing?" Sirius blurted, his eyes falling upon the dishevelled elf in automatic suspicion. "My brother's body was never recovred…"

"That, my not-so-dear uncle, is a puzzle that will remained solved only between myself and Kreacher," said Arcturus with an air of mysteriousness. "You paid no mind to my father's affairs when he was alive, ergo in my reckoning you are not worthy to know the details of his demise. Not yet, anyway."

Upon hearing the boy's final words, Sirius looked up sharply, his eyes flickering with a hint of hope. Just as suddenly, he felt quite unworthy of the boy's apparent promise, but he could not bring himself to state why.
"Perhaps one day, then," he said breezily, trying not to sound as curious as he was.

"Perhaps," said Arcturus wistfully, sounding far away. Locking eyes with his uncle, the teen swallowed heavily and sighed. He'd never truly had the opportunity to be close to anybody in his lifetime, all of his love and admiration spent on the parents he never really met. When he was a small boy, first hearing of his uncle through his infamous misdeeds, he used to fantasise that the man would fly in on his broomstick and rescue him from his oppressive grandmother; take him away to regale him with tales of how close the two Black brothers had really been. Of course, this had all been before Arcturus was old enough to read, and had been disinclined to believe the horrible things his habitually negative grandmother had told him. Since learning of the reasons for his uncle's incarceration in Azkaban, he'd began to think differently; and then of course he'd found the letters. Ever since, Arcturus had vowed to not spare a moment for the man who had not even respected his father enough to read a simple letter… and yet now that he had the man right in front of him, in his bedroom… he couldn't help but feel the weight of his solitude crushing in. Had the letters simply been returned unopened, he could have convinced himself that his uncle perhaps did not receive the correspondence, but that the later envelopes were marred with obtuse messages from said addressee, demanding in no uncertain terms to be left alone, Arcturus found his tolerance torn.

Flicking through the stack of envelopes, squared away in the order in which they were originally sent, Sirius' cheeks burned when he came across his own blemished scrawl, and he began to understand. Looking up at his nephew sheepishly, he frowned.
"I'm not like that… I mean it's not what you think," he said awkwardly. "Your father and I… look, it's just complicated. A long story… and for what it's worth, I am sorry. I wish I had read them, I really do."

Arcturus studied the sincerity on his uncle's face and nodded once, briskly. Turning to the portrait of his forefather for guidance, the proud young man squared his shoulders and held himself tall as he made his decision.
"Very well," he said carefully, nodding at the portrait as its subject silently conveyed its advice. He turned back to face his uncle. "I will stay until after you have read the letters; to answer any questions you may have – but I won't answer anything before then."

"Thank you," whispered Sirius, his head bowed as he continued staring at the squares of aged parchment. Gesturing towards the door, he looked up at the teenagers. "Why don't we leave Harry and Ron to getting ready? I mean, would you like to accompany me to the study to wait whilst I read these?"

Arcturus considered the older man's request for a moment, lowering his rucksack to the floor and closing the wardrobe slowly.
"Very well," he replied primly, turning his chin up and stalking past his uncle and towards the doorway, pausing only to give Harry and Ron back their wands, as promised. "I wish to retrieve some volumes from there anyway."

Sirius nodded awkwardly at his nephew, letting him lead the way. Once the strange teenager was out of the room, he shot a bewildered Harry and Ron an apologetic look and quietly excused himself. It didn't need to be said that he wished Arcturus' presence in the house to remain under wraps until they'd both had time to get their heads around things.