Harry Potter and the Ties that Bind

Chapter 8

I shouldn't have apparated without preparing first.

Harry Potter gritted his teeth as his body became compressed, like he was being squeezed through a tube of toothpaste. This was the result of apparating without proper preparation first. Harry was sure that he could have done this and been fine if he was only apparating himself. However, he'd also taken Sirius Black along for the ride. His magic was now being forced to accommodate for two people, and he hadn't focused his magic as well as he should have—a dangerous combination.

When he finally emerged from his emergency apparition, it was with a loud crack! that echoed across the new landscape like a bullet fired from a gun. Harry winced as his feet slammed into solid ground, his legs buckling from the sudden variance in surface density. Beside him, Sirius Black stumbled to the ground, on his hands and knees, gasping for breath.

"Bloody hell, Harry," the older man rasped, "warn me next time you do something like that."

Harry swallowed the bile threatening to expel from his throat, straightened, then dusted himself off as if to pretend he wasn't bothered by what had just happened.

"There wasn't any time to issue a warning. Had I not acted when I did, then I would be sitting in a holding cell right now, and you would have been sent back to Azkaban Prison."

Sirius grimaced.

"Point taken."

"Now, then, where are we, exactly?"

"You asked for a safe place," Sirius started, standing back to his feet, albeit, on shaky legs. "I couldn't think of a safer place than my families old home, though I loathe the idea of coming back here. Harry," Sirius made a sweeping gesture, "welcome to Grimmauld Place."

Grimmauld Place was a dark and foreboding structure, a series of houses that loomed over them. Walls were cracked, the paint was chipping, and the buildings were in desperate need of re-tiling. Vine crept along the walls like insipid creatures of the dark trying to claw their way through the windows. It needed some serious remodeling. The house that Sirius was gesturing toward had a door with the number 12 hanging on its front.

"Not exactly the most stylish of homes, but it will serve my purposes well enough," Harry muttered before he walked up to the entrance. "Come on, Sirius. We need to begin shoring up our defenses. I wasn't very subtle when I apparated us here, and there's a good chance that the DMLE will be able to follow the trail of magic I left behind. We need to have this place set up before then."

"Um, right." Sirius nodded and followed Harry to the door. Because the door was magically sealed, Sirius had to open it for them. Harry followed Sirius into the house, the entrance opening into a dark hallway that was covered in a layer of filth. He wrinkled his nose in disgust as Sirius turned around, arms spread wide in an all-encompassing gesture that seemed both grand and sarcastic. "Here we are, Harry. Welcome to the Black Ancestral—"

"FILTH! BLOOD-TRAITOR! I'LL NOT HAVE YOU STAINING MY HOUSE!"

"Shut up, you old ding bat!" Sirius whirled around yelled at a portrait hanging on the wall. Harry blinked as obscenities spewed from the portrait in return.

The lady within the painting looked a lot like Sirius; black hair, purple eyes, and aristocratic features. However, that was where the similarities ended. Unlike Sirius, who looked in control of his mental faculties, for the most part, this woman's eyes gleamed with the taint of insanity. Her ugly snarl marred whatever beauty she might have possessed. It was weird. She reminded him so much of Andromeda Tonks that he couldn't help but find her appearance unsettling.

This must be Walburga Black, Sirius Black's mother, Harry determined. Having already studied up on the Black family in great detail, he knew every member of the Black family, and which noble families several Blacks had been married off to.