Hermione quieted with a mulish expression. She didn't want to be attacked by the wards, and she certainly didn't want to be evicted; she had nowhere else to go. When the Order all but kidnapped her, her parents said they were still going out of the country on vacation. She sat, disgruntled. It was not often that she was told she couldn't voice her opinion. Her parents always told her to speak out about what was bothering her.
"Second off, Mother's portrait has been removed. Lastly, you can access the library now, so you will have something to do. There are books you cannot read. You won't even be able to take them off the shelf. Also, I will inform the house elves that you will be responsible for your rooms," he said, trying to lighten the mood.
Hermione bounced in her chair but kept silent. The Weasley children were wary; they were expecting their mum to blow at any minute. They could see the redness of her face. She was very angry.
"Look," Sirius said, running his hand over his face, "I don't want to come across as a hardass. I just want you to understand that this is my house, and you are my guests. I will do everything in my power to make sure you are as comfortable as I can. If you need something, let me know, and I will do what I can to help. However, I will not put up with being treated as a child who broke the rules. Every single one of you knows the hell I've been through these past fourteen years."
There were guilty faces all around, bar Molly. For some reason, they kept forgetting what Sirius had been through. It was probably because he only showed the carefree side of himself and not the torn man he had become.
"It has taken its toll, I agree, but I am not a kid that needs to be taken to task." He once more looked at the fuming Mrs. Weasley.
"You have always been an irresponsible man," she finally snapped, standing so fast her chair clattered behind her. Her body flinched but she ignored the stinging. "In all the time I've known you, you have never taken anything seriously. You cause disorder in all the Order meetings, always fighting the Headmaster and Severus. Dumbledore is a great man, and you should do as he says and not argue with him," Molly argued passionately. "Severus has made up for whatever sin you have probably falsely labeled him with. He is very important to the Order, yet, all you do is fight with him. You are nothing but an adult child sulking over a lost toy."
"Molly," he said, looking at her in ire, "you didn't know me until a couple of months ago. You only have the word of others who knew me before I was sent to Azkaban. How the hell could you make such an opinion of me? Freedom is not a toy. You should feel lucky that you have yours."
The teens' heads swiveled back and forth between the two bickering adults, not daring to say a word and interrupt the only entertainment they've had since they got here.
"If you had taken Harry from that house and never gone after Pettigrew, then you would not have been put in Azkaban. That shows just how irresponsible you are," she said in self-righteousness anger, reaching down and jerking her chair up. When it was righted, she thumped down on it.
"I did try and take Harry, but I was denied. On the orders of the very man you so adore. So, blame him," he spat back, still upset over the fact that his godson had been taken from his arms. "Besides, that was fourteen years ago. I've been punished for that. Are you telling me that when you were younger you did everything right and nothing you did caused harm to anyone? I find your reasoning stupid to a major degree," Sirius snarled at her, standing up from the table and glaring at her for her audacity.
"You still haven't changed. I've seen the jokes you make about the Order meetings, and I see how you argue with everyone. Now you're being all bossy and commanding at the Order Headquarters. These are not the signs of a responsible man. Those are the signs of the rebellious teen that everyone claims you are," she rebutted, still smarting that the wards were finding her truth to be offensive enough to keep stinging her. She was going to talk to Dumbledore about this. Maybe he could do something about blacks.
"Molly," he paused and gritted his teeth, looking at the teens watching them, and then continued, "I am a prisoner here, and I can do nothing but offer my house as a refuge. If I think something I say will help the war effort, then I am going to say it. Dumbledore is not a god. He can be wrong, and if no one tells him so, he will continue not to seek our opinions and only demand servitude. Dumbledore is a great wizard, and I respect him, but, like you, he treats me and—hell—everyone else like children. We are adults and entitled to voice our different opinions, without being sent to our rooms like bad little tykes."
"If you didn't act like one, no one would treat you like one," she snarled back and then jumped when the wards got her extra hard.
He flexed his head to the side to relieve some of the stress in his shoulders, trying to calm down before the wards kicked everyone out. "I will remind Dumbledore, like I did you, that this is my house, and I will be treated with respect. You can think about that. Talk to your husband—maybe he can get it through that thick head of yours that you are not in charge." And with that, he left the room before he did something foolish.
Finally reaching his room, he sighed and relaxed. It had been a trying day, and it was not over yet. He still needed to confront Dumbledore, and he needed to speak to Harry. The poor boy was probably going crazy with all the magic forced on him, not to mention the crazy house elf who wanted to bond with him. That gave him an idea.
Quickly he sat and wrote to his godson all that he had done that day and what to expect in the future. When he finished, he called Winky.
"Winky," he said when she popped in, "can you feel where Dobby is?"
"Winky is knowing where Dobby is," she answered.
"Take this letter to him and have him give it to Harry Potter," he requested kindly.
"Winky will be doing this right away," she said, taking the letter and popping away.
Sirius sighed, finally, he would be able to do something productive. Maybe, just maybe, it will help. Only time will tell.