(August 18, 1961) + 

The arrival of the second Black son garnered attention, and with it, a predictable wave of envy amongst the adult guests at 12 Grimmauld Place. It was no surprise that a newborn would be the subject of polite, yet keenly felt, envy. Two sons for Walburga and Orion Black represented a significant advantage within their rigidly defined world. Each visitor offered congratulations with a practiced smile, but the undercurrent of resentment was palpable. + 

“Aren’t you happy to have a playmate, Sirius?” Andromeda Black asked, finding him slumped in his room, staring at the bare wall. She knew Sirius well enough to recognize the spoiled petulance of a child indulged to excess—a fault she placed squarely on his parents. + 

“No,” he grumbled, letting the sound escape his small lips. Sirius tilted his head, regarding Andromeda with a calculating gaze. + 

“Are you sure?” she pressed, a knowing look softening her features. Instead of a verbal response, Sirius merely nodded. Andromeda allowed a small smirk to play on her lips as she turned to leave. + 

“In case you decide to visit, everyone else is downstairs. Kreacher is currently attending to him.” + 

Andromeda had gauged Sirius perfectly. She knew he’d resent any adult interference. The hint of Kreacher’s presence was enough to spur him into action. As soon as Andromeda feigned departure, Sirius bolted from his room, racing towards his brother’s chamber. He demanded Kreacher return to the kitchen. + 

The photograph captured the moment Sirius Black formally greeted his brother—his playmate, his accomplice. The image held the promise of shared mischief, forged in the shadowed halls of Grimmauld Place. + 