"Run away from home? Why?"
Sirius gave a wry smile, running a hand through his messy long hair. "Probably because my parents, most of my relatives… they all believe that love and freedom are things that tarnish the bloodline. They are obsessed with the inheritance of blood, thinking that those of the House of Black are inherently noble…"
He then pointed to a scorch mark between Bellatrix Lestrange and Narcissa Black. "This is my cousin, Andromeda. She was disowned for marrying a Muggle and 'bringing shame to the family.'"
Sirius's finger slid upwards, past several haughty-looking men and women, finally landing hard on a name—Cygnus Black.
"My dear uncle."
He scoffed, a laugh devoid of warmth. "A fanatical pure-blood supporter who firmly believed his dear niece Bellatrix marrying a Lestrange was 'a great service to the bloodline.'"
He paused, then added in a lower voice, "I was once almost forced to marry his daughter."
Harry looked at the ancient names and dates on the tapestry and felt a chill.
Next, Sirius's finger poked at a withered, arrogant face above.
"Look at this, Harry," he said mockingly. "This is Phineas Nigellus, the most conceited old fool. The former Headmaster of Hogwarts—the most unpopular one, of course. See? He's frowning even in the portrait, as if the whole world owes him a Galleon."
"This is Araminta Meliflua… my mother's cousin… she tried to force through a Ministry of Magic decree to legalize Muggle hunting… don't you think she's crazy?"
"And this—this is my dear Aunt Elladora… she started the family tradition of beheading house-elves when they got too old to carry trays… even I think she's sick!"
Sirius shook his head, sighing. "Of course, occasionally a decent person would appear in the family, but whenever that happened, they would eagerly disown them."
He said, pointing to the scorched mark representing himself.
"You have a brother?"
Harry suddenly spoke, pointing to a young face next to the scorch mark: Regulus Arcturus Black. His birth and death dates were suffocatingly short.
"Yes! He used to live in this room, just like me."
Sirius's gaze was not focused on the tapestry, but instead drifted towards the bedroom behind Harry, the one he currently occupied, his eyes unfocused, as if piercing through the walls to see the distant past.
"Back then, his walls were covered in Slytherin green and silver. Truly… a complete fool."
Harry didn't speak. He looked at the death date on the wall and silently calculated in his mind, realizing that the person had died approximately fifteen years ago.
"This entire wall," Sirius swept his arm, encompassing the entire history of the House of Black, then shook them off like dust. "It all incessantly speaks of pure-blood madness and decay. Look at it, Harry. Remember it well. And then..."
He reached out, firmly putting his arm around Harry's shoulders in a warm and solid gesture.
"—be glad you don't have to be any part of it. You belong to another world, a much better world."
Beside that burned Black mark, under the gaze of countless pairs of cold, arrogant, thread-like eyes, Harry did feel grateful.
Not because he was far from this decay, but because the person who had walked out of the ruins and brought warmth to him stood by his side.
"How did your brother die?" Harry asked.
"He joined the Death Eaters, Harry. He took a path completely opposite to mine."
"What?" Harry's eyes widened. "You're not serious, are you?!"
"Listen to me, Harry. You've seen the state of this house. Don't you understand what kind of wizards my family are?" Sirius said dejectedly.
"In the eyes of the vast majority of the family, Regulus was far superior to me, because he joined the Death Eaters at a young age."
"Then why did he… die? Was he killed by an Auror?" Harry asked, not quite sure.
"No, Harry."
Sirius said, "Not an Auror. It was Voldemort, or more likely, he was executed under his command. From what I understand, he probably got too deep, then got scared and wanted to quit."
He let out a bitter laugh. "But the Death Eaters' ranks are clearly not a place where you can just come and go as you please. You can't just hand Voldemort a resignation letter and consider it done. It's either serve to the end, or a dead end."
Just then, a small figure suddenly burst out of the shadows in the corner!
It was Kreacher, who had been eavesdropping nearby and could no longer bear it.
"You mustn't slander Young Master Regulus!"
The house-elf shrieked and wailed, his wrinkled face contorted with rage. He frantically bashed his head against Sirius's leg. "Profligate! Scum! How dare you speak ill of Young Master Regulus! He is a thousand times better than you! Ten thousand times! He is a noble and brave Black!"
"Get lost, Kreacher!" Sirius snapped in disgust, kicking him away.
Kreacher whimpered, climbed to his feet, but still glared at them with eyes full of immense hatred and pain, muttering curses.
Sirius ignored him. He stood silently before the tapestry for a moment, then said, "Honestly, I really want to throw this whole thing into the fire. It shouldn't be hanging here."
He then raised his wand and clearly pronounced:
"Incendio!"
Flames shot towards the tapestry. However, a faint glow appeared on the tapestry's surface a second before contact, and the flames extinguished instantly as if swallowed by water, leaving not even a wisp of smoke.
The tapestry was perfectly intact.
"Expected." Sirius smiled indifferently.
"Ungrateful wretch, profligate," Kreacher muttered from the side. "Still wants to burn the tapestry. That tapestry has been there for seven centuries. Burning it would only break the mistress's heart…"
"My mother has no heart, Kreacher," Sirius said irritably. "She lives on resentment."
"No matter what, Kreacher must protect the tapestry. Kreacher will never let the profligate and the little brats destroy the tapestry…"
Sirius curled his lip in disdain.
"It's been enchanted with a powerful 'fire and water impervious' charm. Only Fiendfyre can destroy it."
Sagres's voice sounded. He had appeared behind them at some point, calmly looking at the huge tapestry. "Of course, I don't recommend you do that. Ancient families often imbue items symbolizing their history with protection. This magic is connected to the foundations of the mansion, and forcefully destroying it is not a simple matter. Moreover, rather than destroying it, it might be more suitable to remain here as a warning of history."
Sirius frowned, but seemed to accept the explanation, finally slowly lowering his wand.
"Perhaps you are right, Professor." He mumbled. "Let it remind me never to become like that."
The room fell silent, with only the three of them quietly gazing at the massive tapestry.
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