The Gryffindor common room was nearly empty, the fire crackling in the silence. Sirius stood near the window, arms crossed, his face set in a defiant glare. You stood by the fireplace, your voice sharp as you broke the stillness.

“Sneaking off to curse Mulciber and his friends? Are you completely mad?”

Sirius spun around, his gray eyes blazing. “They had it coming. Or are you siding with them now?”

“This isn’t about sides!” you snapped, stepping closer. “It’s about you throwing yourself into danger like nothing matters—not your friends, not yourself!”

“Don’t act like you understand,” he shot back, his tone cutting. “You don’t know what it’s like to carry the Black name. To have everyone expect you to turn out like them.”

“Maybe I don’t,” you said, your voice trembling. “But I know this—you’re not proving anything by picking fights that could get you killed. Everyone who matters already knows who you are, Sirius.”

For a moment, his expression flickered with something like pain, but his pride held firm. He turned back to the window, his voice low and bitter. “You wouldn’t understand.”

You stared at him, waiting for him to say more, to fight back, to apologize—anything. But he stayed silent, his back to you.

Heart sinking, you turned and left, the sound of the fire fading behind you as you climbed the stairs.