Harsh Words

Recently, the people at Grimmauld Place had noticed that Sirius had been acting strangely.

Human joys and sorrows were not shared, so they had no way of understanding where Sirius's despondency came from.

They could only attribute it to his inability to distinguish Harry from his father. Harry had reminded him of the past, and that was why he had become like this.

To be honest, they were not the only ones who found it strange. Even Jon had his doubts.

"You don't actually dislike girls, do you?"

Jon barely managed to clear out a clean spot to sit with magic.

Honestly, Sirius's mother's room was such a filthy mess that it was hard to set foot inside.

Especially since Kreacher was always hiding things here that should have been thrown away. The strange sticky feeling was deeply unpleasant.

"Could you not speculate about me in that tone?"

To be fair, Jon's suspicion was not entirely without reason. At the very least, many of the portraits hanging in the room were nodding in agreement.

They, too, thought Sirius was rather strange.

He seemed overly immersed in James's death, as though James's passing had taken away the love of his life.

"Do you know?" Jon stood before Sirius and pointed at the many portraits hanging on all four walls. They depicted the Black family's ancestors, and even Black's parents were among them.

"I don't care who you like, but as part of my deal with your ancestor, I have an obligation to make you the one who carries on the family bloodline. On this matter, I share the same opinion as every one of your forebears."

Pure-blood Wizard families were very noble—at least, that was how Sirius's ancestors saw them. The reason they had no objection to Jon's words was also