Picking up a Few Things [[Sirius]]

Sirius had no intention of staying long. All he wanted was a pensieve. It was comforting, he had found over the summer, to enter into old memories. To see himself as he had been before Azkaban. It had been a long time, but he was beginning to rediscover himself. The farther he got from Azkaban, the more joy crept into his life. Joy unadulterated, untainted by the fear that it would soon be ripped away. He was starting to look like himself more as well. The deep lines he'd picked up in Azkaban were fading, and he hadn't even given in to the temptation to attack them with a potion. No, he'd earned them, he decided. The wild, haunted, hunted look had left his eyes as well, and they'd recovered some of his sparkle. Sirius stopped in the living room to look in a mirror. Yes, he decided, he recognized himself now. That, too, was comforting.

Sirius startled when he heard a noise. Probably Kreacher sneaking about. Wretched thing. If he didn't know so damned much, Sirius would have given him clothes, but as it were the elf would have to stay. Sirius could put up with him. He was nearly as old as dirt; surely he'd die soon and Sirius could get a new elf. Sirius felt sorry for Kreacher sometimes. It wasn't his fault his masters had poisoned his mind. Just like Regulus. No, Orion and Walburga didn't believe in showing kindness to their inferiors. House elves and children and mudbloods and even purebloods of lower classes were next to worthless in the Blacks' minds. Kreacher had never had it easy, but Sirius couldn't work up much sympathy for him. Dobby was proof that a house elf didn't have to allow himself to be poisoned. Kreacher had been far too cruel to Sirius for Sirius ever to be able to completely give him the benefit of the doubt.

Sirius started out of the living room and stopped dead in the hallway. The noise he had heard came from a person. A person inspecting his mother's portrait. A person he hoped never to meet again except in nightmares. His wand was out in a flash. If he knew her, he was likely to be attacked at any moment, but he would not attack first. That was the realm of Death Eaters. The words to defend himself stayed on the tip of his tongue even as he spoke, surprised by the venom in his own voice. "What are you doing here, Bella? This is my home, and you've no right to be here."

Sirius had to work not to roll his eyes. His cousin was goading him, but he wasn't going to let himself be goaded. Not today. Not in his own home. Not by her. Sirius tightened his grip on his wand, kicking himself for not realizing there would be a hole in the wards. He'd been so careful when setting them, but he'd never thought to change the override that would let in anyone with Black blood. He'd be remedying that mistake the second he got Bella out of here. If he survived...

He was sure he would. Bella always had more ego than sense. Sure, she was talented, but not as talented as she thought she was. And besides, what good was talent if all you were going to use it for was running about the countryside playing house with the boogeyman? And she thought she deserved the house more than he did.

Sirius had every right to this house. Harry had nothing to do with him inheriting it. He got because after his family got finished self-destructing, he, the disappointing son, was the last man standing. He got it because he was the heir, and his mother couldn't steal that from him no matter how much she wished she could. She could blast holes in the damn tapestry all she wanted. She couldn't take away his Black blood. The house still recognized him - and no one else - as its master.

Sirius watched as Bella picked up a bag off the floor. Something stolen from him, no doubt. He didn't know what was in there, and he didn't much care. He had no attachment to his parents' things, but he wasn't about to let her leave with them. There was no telling how many dark objects were stashed around this house. Dark objects that could help the Death Eaters if they got their hands on them.

Sirius cocked his head. "Pretty theft, Bella? Isn't that beneath you? I never thought even you would stoop so low as to steal from your own family." He didn't take time to think, only act. He lifted his wand and screamed the spell in his own mind. Accio bag! The bag flew from Bella's hands, and he caught it deftly. He just as quickly vanished the bag, sending it to his quarters at Hogwarts, where she could never follow. Then he cast a silent shield charm, sure that retaliation couldn't be close behind. "Now get out of my house," he spat. "Before I call aurors to come and send you back to the dementors where you belong."