Mutatrum: Blackheart

6- More To Life

The fire popped and crackled in the grate, but Blackheart barely noticed the dancing flames and sparks that flew when a log shifted. He stared at the orange blaze, his mind a million miles away.

Sirius was somewhere in the house, reading a book, taking a nap, doing something that Blackheart didn't care to know. Ever since he'd met with the Weasleys in their treehouse, he'd found himself in a bit of a funk. He wasn't sure why, but for some reason he'd felt lonelier than ever the past few days. Seeing the Weasley siblings and the way they interacted with each other had made him question whether he was too isolated, too apart from everything good that the world might offer.

When he'd been young, it had been out of necessity, his segregation. And he'd had a good childhood, growing up knowing that he was loved and protected. But what if the solitary existence he'd adopted as an adult had been less about protecting himself and more about staying in a place where he was comfortable, where he couldn't be emotionally hurt?

"You're staring at that fire like it's done you personally wrong."

Blackheart only grunted when Sirius came into the room.

"Care to talk about it?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. "My head is just...full."

Sirius sank into the wingback chair opposite his godson and shifted into a similar pose: slouched against the cushions, legs extended toward the warmth, and brow furrowed.

"Is it wrong to live like I do?" Blackheart asked finally.

"In what way do you mean?"

"Alone. Isolated. Hidden."

Sirius nodded, although Blackheart wasn't watching him. "I see."

"I just…I see others about my age and even with the war on, they're...well, they're living. Am I doing that? Sometimes it doesn't feel like it."

"Well, I probably am not the best one to talk on the subject."

Blackheart finally looked at Sirius and felt a twinge of guilt. They led similar lives, but not with similar motivations. Sirius was almost as much a prisoner here as he had been in Azkaban. Blackheart was free to come and go, as long as he kept his identity hidden.

"Do you think the way I was raised was wrong?"

Sirius winced, thought about it, and then finally shook his head. "It is what it is. We can't change the past. Well, strictly speaking, that's not true. We could, if we had a time turner."

Blackheart rolled his eyes at the bit of humor.

"But...no. I don't think so. You grew up protected, safe. If you'd been left where you were…" He trailed off and shook his head once more, his eyes narrowing into a scowl. "I can't imagine why Dumbledore thought it was a good place to put a child. Those people…" He huffed out a breath. "Well, I'm sure he had his reasons."

Silence descended as they both pondered Blackheart's childhood.

"The way you grew up," Sirius finally said, "may not have been what your parents intended, but you're stronger for it. You're alive. You're safe. You avenged their deaths-at least to a point."

Blackheart scowled at the memory. It was his darkest moment. He'd almost lost himself to the darkness and despair when Wormtail's life had been draining out of the betraying little rat due to Blackheart's spell. It had taken both Dobby and Sirius months to break him out of depression and convince him that the act had been necessary and justified. Not only had Wormtail betrayed James and Lily, but had also helped to resurrect Voldemort. His crimes were clear and it was apparent that the Ministry wasn't doing enough to catch him.