All the Young Dudes ( Sirius' Perspective )

Second Year : Punishment

Monday 25th December 1973

Regulus was right—he got his voice back that evening, before the dinner party. His mother gave him a scrolling look, making sure he was properly attired in his dress robes (she vanished his tie—Gryffindor colours) before undoing the spell.

“I expect you on your best behaviour for our guests tonight,” she said as he gasped, feeling as though someone had poured hot water directly down his throat, “This dinner is of the utmost significance for your future, and the future of the wizarding world.”

Sirius refrained from rolling his eyes. He had the dung bombs tucked securely away in his robes, and he didn’t want to risk getting told off before he had a chance to exact his revenge. His parents were always so dramatic about any gathering they held, and though it was unusual to host all of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, Sirius really didn’t see how this was going to be any different than all the other parties where pureblood wizards strutted about in expensive clothes, making snide remarks and judging each other.

He was seated next to Narcissa at dinner, which made his gut twist. Their betrothal hadn’t been announced outside of their families—that would come over the summer—but Bellatrix shot him a knowing look, frowning from across the table. To make matters worse, Lucius Malfoy was there with his family, and he seethed throughout the dinner, glaring at Sirius with barely disguised rage. As if it was his fault that his mental family wanted him marrying his cousin! Narcissa didn’t say a single word to him throughout the entire meal, and every time she looked at him her face clouded over. Miserable.

There was the expected amount of hand-shaking and arse-kissing. Sirius noticed that everyone seemed a bit edgy, laughing too loudly at each other’s jokes or nodding sycophantically when someone made a comment they agreed with. Some of the families were clearly more comfortable in the Black manor than others, making it easy to see who had already thrown in with whatever political bid his parents were making. There was a lot of talk about the “future of the wizarding world” and the “encroachment of muggles” and a load of other bollocks that Sirius mostly tuned out. He wanted to choose the perfect moment to set off his dung bombs, and felt jittery with nerves as he waited for his opportunity.

It came when Rodolphus Lestrange, Bella’s new husband, stood up to give a speech before the fourth course. His cousin was staring adoringly up at the young man as he spoke about his new position at the ministry, and how he and his colleagues had been doing a lot of thinking regarding the involvement of muggles in wizard affairs. Sirius wanted desperately to wipe the manic grin off of Bellatrix’s face and ruin her husband’s moment. While everyone was distracted, looking down the table at good ol' Rod, he slipped the dung-bombs carefully into his hands, pulling the small tabs and rolling them under the table.

“…of course, I agree that we have a responsibility to help the less fortunate, but I have to ask myself: can someone raised outside the wizarding world truly understand what’s be—”

BANG!

The first bomb went off, perfectly, right at the man’s feet, releasing a noxious cloud of fumes.

BANG! BANG!

As the others began to release their own malodorous vapours, the room erupted into confused chaos. Wizards jumped out of their seats and stared down at the table that had now become enveloped in a horrible stench, trying to figure out what was going on. Lestrange’s speech came to an abrupt end as he coughed, having inhaled a lungful of the fumes. Bellatrix’s head whipped around, hand pressed in front of her nose. Her eyes pinpointed Sirius, and she glared murderously. He smiled back smugly at his cousin, feeling a rush of adrenaline and deep satisfaction at the perfectly executed prank.