COMFORT ZONE | Sirius Black [REWRITING]

2. A Shafiq Gathering

Saturday, 21st August 1971

Sirius hated serpents and snakes and all slithery things. He hated the inky emerald that sprawled over the carpet and tapestry, and the murky green that stained his bedroom walls.

He was losing his mind to boredom.

Regulus had moved onto yet another title: a gift from Uncle Cygnus that was keeping him cooped up in his room like a moody old man.

Sirius supposed that setting Aunt Druella's snapping hairclip loose on Narcissa had done it this time. It was just like Uncle Cygnus to conveniently forget that Sirius was also his nephew and therefore, also a candidate for gift-giving.

Not that Sirius was very fond of his uncle's choice of literature; they were all grim tales of warlocks who faced gruesome deaths for smiling at a muggle too long.

The worst one was Andy's screeching storybook about a witch who was dragged away by banshees after she fell in love with a village muggle.

"One day," Andy had sworn to him, "I'll burn the entire thing page by page."

Sirius told her to call him around when she did.

When Madiha heard the story, she said the witch ought to have taken her muggle boy and ran away before the banshees found her.

The only adult relative that Sirius really liked was his Uncle Alphard; a quiet man who mostly kept to himself and could always be found with his hipflask or a glass of red wine in hand. Sirius suspected he had a taste for stronger drink too, like the Firewhisky Kreacher kept under lock and key at all times.

Uncle Alphard talked most when Sirius would find him on an armchair alone in the drawing room, surrounded by pipe smoke. That was when he told stories.

Of Cornish Pixies; dragons in the Far East; wild herds of Thestrals that haunted muggle villages near forests, the sound of their hooves terrifying those lucky enough to have not seen death, while those who had seen it were driven mad by the bareboned monsters galloping around the edge of the trees.

"Have you ever seen a thestral before?" Sirius asked once.

Uncle Alphard had leaned back in the armchair, stroking his short beard in thought.

"I haven't... but I suppose I could if I was to ever come across one."

It rattled Sirius, that his uncle had seen death before, but no amount of pestering made him elaborate. It was when he mischievously offered to refill his hipflask that Uncle Alphard let out a good long laugh, which was surprising as no one ever laughed like that in the house unless the Shafiqs were around.

"Tell you what, boy: I'll save the story for when you're older," he'd smiled. "By then, I suspect you'll understand it more too."

Sirius wondered how long it would be until he was older.

12 Grimmauld Place was quiet this afternoon. His father was evidently in his study, and some sorry nook of the house was cradling Kreacher, their ancient house-elf. His mother would be in the drawing room, doing whatever it was that ladies did in their free time, which his mother had a lot of considering she didn't work like Auntie Zarah, who was Madiha's mother and a senior Curse-breaker at Gringotts.

Uncle Yasin was Head of the entire wizarding branch of the bank, the part that goblins didn't manage.

But even with all their busy schedules, the Shafiqs seemed to do a much better job of being nice than his own parents did. They didn't just like Madiha and Adam, they liked Sirius and Regulus and apparently, that Potter boy too—though being their godson, it wasn't a surprise in his case.