Sirius' Story

They had changed his room completely; there was no evidence that he had ever existed. It was now a study equipped with a desk, several chairs, fine inks and stacks of parchment. Someone had paid an artist to paint the members of the family. The twins had, many pieces among them - some depicted them as children, standing together looking happy, others of them as adults, a few years older than when he had last seen them together. There were at least four more for each twin showing them and their accomplishments; one twin was standing in a shining suit of armor with his helmet under his arm, while another painting showed the other twin standing with a family: a beautiful woman stood by his shoulder, three children surrounded them, and a tiny baby lay in the woman's arms. Sirius almost cried.

There were many others, of his father and the twins' mother standing together; if they had been placed in the right order, they would have been getting older. But as his eyes passed over the room, he saw only one of himself, and it was no bigger than his hand, unlike the life-like sizes of the others. He wouldn't have seen it if he hadn't   his own silvery white hair. The painting had been tucked behind another huge one. He walked forward and picked it up, but as he pulled it out from behind the other one, he saw someone had come and burnt away his face. Just a green background and the top of his head was left.

He snapped the canvas in half and threw it across the room. He was surprised to feel a hand upon his shoulder. It was his father.

"Why?" he asked, holding back the flow of tears. "Just... why?"

"I had many painted, but she destroyed every one of them."

But Sirius had had enough. He grabbed his father by the shoulders and threw him across the room too. There was a loud crack, and then a slam as he hit the floor and blood trickled from his head.

The twins' mother ran up the stairs, holding her fists out, wanting to fight. But she was no match for him.

He ran to her and put his hand round her neck, lifting her off the floor. "I've fought worse than you, too," he whispered. He tightened his grip, feeling her neck break and then he let her body drop in a heap next to her husband's. He   down the stairs, wondering why his brother wasn't trying to kill him as well.

"Sirius," he said shortly.

"Achanar," Sirius replied.

"I knew you would kill them, the moment you came through the door."

"Did you?"

"Yes, that's what I came here to do."

Sirius looked at Achanar with interest: now why would he want to kill his mother and father? Then Achanar moved into the candlelight, and his face was illuminated, and aside from the features Sirius had noticed earlier, the one thing that now stood out to him, was that Achanar had red irises.

"I see," he said finally.

"You know it was a werewolf that killed my twin." They were walking slowly in a circle now, facing each other, their eyes not moving from the other.

Sirius did not reply. He had never met a werewolf, and he wanted to see where Achanar was heading with this conversation.

"It destroyed me; he was killed 31 years ago by a female werewolf named Ira. She was the secret weapon of the people we were fighting-"

"Why are you telling me this?" Sirius interrupted.

"Because I want you to know how he died."

"What if I don't care how he died?"

"Then you're a horrible brother!" Achanar was shouting now, tears seeping from the corners of his eyes.

"As were you and him to me!" Sirius likewise was shouting, but felt so numb inside that he couldn't find the energy to cry.

Sirius saw what was coming before it actually happened, Achanar ran at him, with one arm outstretched and the other pulling out a long silver sword. Both men yelled at each other, and then Sirius pulled out his wakizashi. Next to the sword it looked stupid, but it could do far more damage...