And just like that—
The screen went black.
Sirius blinked.
Once.
Twice.
"What the *bloody hell*—that's it?!"
He shot up from the couch, staring at the now lifeless screen in disbelief.
"I didn't even get to see them *talk*—are you kidding me?!"
As if in response—
*Pop.*
The cassette player snapped open violently, the tape ejecting itself straight into his hand.
Sirius flinched hard, stumbling back as the sudden movement knocked the bowl of chips off his lap. It crashed onto the floor, scattering everywhere.
"Merlin—" he exhaled sharply, clutching the tape, heart racing, "—I'm going to die of a heart attack at this rate."
For a moment, he just stood there, breathing, staring at the tape in his hand.
Then—
Slowly—
His grip tightened.
"Well…" he muttered, running a hand through his hair, trying to steady himself, "the rest can wait."
His gaze flickered toward the now blank screen.
"I've seen enough."
A pause.
"My mother is real."
Not a myth. Not a hidden shame. Not something buried and forgotten.
*Real.*
"And apparently," he huffed softly, a strange mix of disbelief and reluctant amusement crossing his face, "they were childhood sweethearts."
That part—
He wasn't sure how to feel about.
Sirius bent down, grabbing his things quickly, movements sharper than usual.
He had been gone too long.
Moony and Prongs would start looking for him.
And this room—
His eyes flickered around it.
Too quiet.
Too still.
The memory of that other room—the Room of Requirement—the stench, the creatures, the *feeling* of being watched—
It crawled back up his spine.
He didn't understand it.
Didn't understand how he had just… moved on from it.
As if nothing had happened.
As if it hadn't shaken something deep inside him.
"What the hell even was that…" he murmured under his breath.
No answer came.
And for once—
He didn't push.
Maybe it was better this way.
Some things… didn't need to be uncovered.
Some doors were better left closed.
Sirius let out a slow breath, gripping the tape once more before turning toward the exit.
"Yeah," he muttered, almost to himself, "definitely not opening that can of worms."
With that, he stepped out of the room—
And the door shut behind him, as if it had never existed at all.
*******
As Sirius stepped out of the room, still half-lost in his thoughts, he barely registered his surroundings—
Until he walked straight into someone.
He staggered back a step—
And froze.
"…father?"
Orion Black stood there, as if he had simply appeared out of nowhere, robes falling perfectly into place, presence as sharp and suffocating as ever.
Sirius blinked, mind scrambling.
What is he doing here?
A flicker of unease ran through him.
Did someone tell him?
The Room of Requirement.
The creatures.
That thing.
But no—that wasn't possible.
Peter didn't know.
Remus and James wouldn't tell.
Hell, none of them even wanted to think about it. It already felt like some twisted fever dream best left buried.
Orion's eyes swept over him slowly—calculating, observant.
"Well," he drawled, voice calm but edged with something sharper, "I would ask why you're out of your classes…"
His gaze paused briefly on the crumbs scattered across Sirius's robes.
"…but both you and I know I wouldn't get a real answer."
Sirius instinctively brushed at his shirt, suddenly very aware of how he must look.
Orion, meanwhile, was thinking something entirely different.
Crumbs?
His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.
Do they not feed him properly here?
The thought irritated him more than it should have.
But beneath that—
Something darker stirred.
Dumbledore.
The memory of that moment—of the man daring to pry into Regulus's mind—still burned.
Regulus, who was in Slytherin. Supposedly safe from such interference.
If he wasn't out of reach…
Then what about Sirius?
What had that old man already done?
What had he seen?
The air around Orion shifted.
Subtly at first.
Then—
Heavier.
Pressure built, invisible yet suffocating, like the space itself was tightening.
Sirius stiffened.
His brows furrowed slightly, unease creeping in.
What the hell…
One moment, his father had been joking.
The next—
He looked like he was ready to tear someone apart.
Sirius swallowed.
Does he have… problems?
The thought came unbidden—and for once, Sirius didn't dismiss it.
"…what's wrong, father?" he asked carefully, breaking the silence. "Are you alright? And—why are you here?"
The question snapped Orion out of it.
Whatever darkness had begun to surface—
It vanished.
Just like that.
His expression smoothed, the pressure easing as if it had never been there.
"Nothing, son."
His tone was light again. Controlled.
"Come. Let's take a walk."
He turned, already moving.
"And no," he added casually, "this time it's your brother who has managed to get himself into enough trouble to require my presence."
Sirius blinked.
"…what?"
He stared at his father's back for half a second before hurrying after him.
"What do you mean? What did he do?" Sirius demanded, quickening his pace. "Regulus doesn't get into trouble—he is the trouble-free one!"
Orion let out a low chuckle, clearly amused.
"That," he said over his shoulder, "is exactly what makes this interesting."
Sirius groaned, running a hand through his hair as he caught up.
"Father—don't just say that and walk away, tell me what happened!"
But Orion only laughed again, continuing down the corridor, utterly unbothered.
And Sirius—
Well.
He had no choice but to follow.
"So you're telling me," Sirius started, voice rising with disbelief, "that Reg—our picture-perfect, rule-following, never-breathes-wrong Reg—managed to hurt someone? And that too our soon-to-be brother-in-law? That insufferable blonde peacock—"
"Sirius."
Orion didn't raise his voice.
He didn't need to.
"Yes, Sirius," he cut in smoothly. "Yes—and no. That is quite enough about someone who is going to be your brother-in-law."
Sirius huffed but didn't interrupt again, though his expression made it very clear he had a lot more to say about Lucius.
"All I want from you right now," Orion continued, tone shifting slightly, "is for you to go and talk to your brother."
Sirius frowned.
"He's going to need it," Orion added, eyes distant for a fraction of a second, as if already seeing something Sirius couldn't. "He seems to be… in rather deep waters."
He stopped walking.
Sirius, who had been following absentmindedly, nearly walked straight into him and had to skid to a halt at the last second.
Orion turned to face him fully.
"And you," he said quietly.
There was a pause.
"I won't ask what you were doing."
Another pause.
"And I won't tell you to stop."
Sirius blinked, caught off guard.
"All I ask," Orion continued, voice low but firm, "is that you keep yourself safe. Make good decisions. And don't let your curiosity lead you by the nose."
His gaze sharpened, locking onto Sirius.
"I know you are smart enough to keep yourself out of a mess."
A beat.
"So use that brain of yours to stay out of trouble."
"…alright, son?"
Sirius didn't answer immediately.
He just… looked.
Really looked.
At his father.
The concern was there—clear, unmistakable. Etched into the lines of his face, in the set of his jaw.
But his eyes—
His eyes told a different story.
There was something wild there. Something coiled. Something dangerous.
Like he was ready to go to war.
Not hesitate.
Not question.
Just… destroy whatever stood in the way.
For a split second, Sirius felt it again—that pressure, that barely restrained madness lurking beneath the surface.
He had always known his father was not… normal.
Orion didn't just control his demons.
He had embraced them.
Turned them into strength.
Into weapons.
And Sirius knew—knew—that if needed, his father wouldn't hesitate to unleash it.
Not for power.
Not for pride.
But for this.
For them.
Something had happened.
Something big enough to shake him.
Something that had put that look in his eyes.
And maybe—
Maybe it wasn't good for the rest of the world.
But a small, selfish part of Sirius…
Didn't mind.
Because for once—
That madness wasn't directed at him.
It was for him.
For his brother.
For his family.
And that—
That was new.
Sirius swallowed slightly, something unfamiliar tightening in his chest.
He had received care before.
From friends.
From people who pitied him.
Maybe even from people who loved him.
But this—
This was different.
This man—
He was his.
His father.
And the only person he ever felt he truly had to share that with…
Was Regulus.
No one else.
No one.
Sirius let out a quiet breath and gave a small, almost reluctant nod.
"…yeah," he muttered.
"I'll go find him."