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The next day, Sirius Black woke up from his bed with a groggy head feeling as if Kreacher had knocked his head halfway through the night and his head hurt so badly that it felt like it will crack open.

“Although I know it’s a consequence of abusing Apparition, I somehow always suspected it is related to Kreacher’s constant nagging!”

Sirius went to the run-down washroom and washed in front of a mirror that had dubious dark red markings. He re-groomed his hair and shaved off his dirty beard, while he showered, the mirror in the bathroom said, “You look like a moving piece of ribs.”

He angrily pulled the curtain closed, and the bad memories of his early life seemed to come back all at once.

Half an hour later, he rummaged through his old closet and replaced his dirty, ragged old clothes with a new one, and now he looked decent.

Then he carefully fished out an old, tattered piece of paper from his pocket, which looked crumpled after being soaked in the water yesterday. He struggled to spread it out, trying not to spoil the moving picture on it: it showed Ron Weasley’s family winning an award, with a fat rat standing on Ron’s shoulder.

He stared at the photo for a couple of moments with a blank face and then walked away.

“Kreacher, help me prepare a breakfast.” Sirius shouted towards the door, and after a moment’s consideration, he added: “No spitting, no deliberately bad cooking, and no …” he added a string of conditions.

Kreacher bowed deeply, cursing in a low voice as he left.

Sirius took the time to go to the entrance of the house, and looked for a while without finding any suspicious figures, only to see a muggle woman who had risen early to buy vegetables.

“Maybe he left.” Sirius thought to himself, as he slammed the gate shut, the silver coiled snake door ring slammed into the mottled black gate with a thud, and he went quiet for a few seconds, and nothing happened.

“Something doesn’t feel right …” he thought to himself.

But he could not find anything strange, he sniffed, the air still smelled like damp, grimy rottenness, everything from the foyer to the corridor looked eerie, his eyes flickered over the peeling wallpaper, the blooming threads on the dusty carpet, and the shimmering magic chandelier overhead.

Everything looked the same.

Even the portraits hanging crookedly on the walls are very quiet today, quiet …?

Sirius carefully examined the figures in the portraits, they looked asleep, he moved closer, stood in front of a portrait of a possible ancestor of the Black family with a glorious history, and knocked on the outer edge of the frame.

The nobleman with long curly hair that trailed down to his waist is slumped back in his chair, snoring slightly.

Suddenly, Sirius felt as if a piece of ice had been stuffed into his stomach, cold and jerky, and his forehead began to hurt. He moved around nervously, took a few big steps to a curtain, and pulled it open with a jerk.

Behind the curtain, there is a huge portrait of an old woman with a thin face and high cheekbones, somewhat like Sirius at this moment, and although he did not want to admit it, it is his mother.

The old woman, who had been arguing with him for a half-day yesterday and was very active, is sleeping soundly, not abruptly jumping up and cursing him for being a “dirty and sinful son”, now she’s sleeping with drool over her dress.

Sirius returned to his room, with his wand in hand, his heart stabilized a few points, “Maybe they are just scaring him.” He started from the lower floor, searching room by room, and just in case there are any accidents, he called Kreacher back.

“If that man from yesterday shows up, don’t ask me, just get me out of here immediately,” Sirius warned the house elf.

Kreacher looked reluctant as he muttered in a voice Sirius could definitely hear, “After more than ten years away from home, the loser young master is now ordering the old Kreacher around, and I heard he killed someone …”

“Shut up!” Sirius yelled in a low voice.

“Crunch–”

Sirius held his wand in one hand, the tip of the wand glowed slightly, the magic spell is ready to be fired, the other hand twisted the snake-like knob, the door opened, he waited for two seconds, and probed keenly to look inside, it is empty.

Kreacher bowed down, and looked around his legs, “Nothing, the loser young master has been locked up for more than ten years, even his spirit has gone abnormal, oh, poor madame ah, if she knows it from the underworld, I wonder what she will think. Poor old Kreacher …”

Sirius said, “She’s fine, just yesterday she had a fight with me, now sleeping soundly, and drooling all over the place at night.”

They went all the way up, the old wooden floor is in a bad condition and has been hollowed out by insects, stepping on it caused a creaking sound, while Sirius’s heart couldn’t help but rise to the top.

“It’s like going back into the war days.” He muttered, but his eyes couldn’t contain his excitement.

He moved more concisely and efficiently, checking the doorknob every time he opened the door for any signs of use, and after checking the dining room, the storage room, and the second-floor bedroom, nothing happened, so his tense mood relaxed somewhat.

Even when he bumped into an old mirror spirit in the second-floor washroom, he still had the mood to joke: “Your ugly face isn’t the worst I’ve ever seen, Azkaban is where the demons and monsters are concentrated, although I count myself as one …”

At the door of the study on the third floor, although Sirius’s movements were still cautious, he is no longer so wary in his heart, he pushed open the door and walked in. The study is empty and a little brighter, and he saw the old, bug-eye-riddled bookshelves along the wall, with rusty silver and green decorations.

Behind the heavy desk, there is a high back armchair which he remembers as his father’s favourite place to spend time when he was young, of course, every time he will be reprimanded for coming without permission.

“Whoosh!”

“What dong-”

The candleholder in the door suddenly moved and twisted around Sirius’s body, his hand which holding the wand got bent to the side, Sirius struggled hard, but the candleholder seemed like a living person, forcefully twisted his hand and snapped his hand open and his wand fell to the ground, rotating a few times and remained motionless.

Sirius’s chest rose and fell violently, gasping for air, and in the lingering glance, he caught a glimpse of Kreacher being tied up as well, the sound of turning pages in books came from behind the high-backed armchair behind the desk.

He growled out a name with immense anger, “Felix Hap.”

The high-backed armchair turned around, revealing Felix’s figure, holding a Black-covered book in his hand, carefully flipping through a page that had become as brittle as a thin cracker, and without looking up, he said, “Hold on – I got to the key part.”

“Kreacher …” Sirius said in an inaudible whisper.

Kreacher seemed to have just figured out the situation, his figure appeared illusory for a moment, and he tried to use his movement magic, but the next moment he got imprisoned again.

Sirius tried to continue talking, but the sharp tip of the silver candleholder moved closer to his mouth, issuing a silent threat, and he could only stare blankly, as if he wanted to kill Felix with his gaze.

The study went quiet for ten minutes, the only audible sound throughout the room coming from Sirius’s gasping breaths. Just as he felt his wrists being strangled out of consciousness, Felix closed the book Advanced Dark Magic Unmasked and said with a sigh, “It’s wicked as hell … I don’t even want to eat any breakfast.”

Sirius couldn’t help but say mockingly, “It’s not like your … teacher, Snape loved these things when he was young.”

“Who doesn’t have some hobbies?” Felix answered evasively.

Sirius fell silent for a moment and looked up to stare at Felix, “How did you get in?”

Felix smiled, “I got a little help from the Black family.”

“No way!” Sirius retorted, “As much as I hate to admit it, I’m the only descendant of the Black family left, and I’m the only one who can get in.”

Felix glanced at Kreacher.

“He … he’s not the same …”

“Exactly!” Kreacher said proudly, “Old Kreacher has served the noble Black family for generations and generations!” Then he glanced at Sirius with malice, “Not counting the current master, who has nothing but his bloodline, but poor Kreacher has no choice …”

Sirius glared at him, wanting to choke him to death.

Felix stood up and carefully examined the wound on Sirius’s forehead, “Potter’s scar is on the right side, yours is exactly the opposite. How odd, is it a coincidence?”

“You-”

Sirius glared at him, he now didn’t worry much about his safety, he intuitively believed that Felix wouldn’t kill him, but he also found out that Felix is even more hateful than Snape – his words are more potent.

———-

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