Number 12 Grimmauld Place had five floors, with the top one serving as the library.
When Sirius pushed open the dusty door, a stronger stench of decay than anywhere downstairs hit them.
Bump!
He had used a little too much force—the rotten wooden door fell flat with a crash, sending up a thick cloud of dust.
"Good guy…" Blake muttered, waving his hand so the dust hitting their faces vanished.
"Cough, cough…" Sirius spluttered, fanning the air. "No one's been here since my accident."
Blake calmly drew his wand, gathering the floating dust into a small whirlwind. "I'll handle it." He conjured a breeze that rolled away the dust and foul smell, sweeping it into a small dimensional door in the floor. Within seconds, the smoky library was noticeably cleaner, with much of the dust brushed off the book covers.
Gas lamps flickered on, revealing a modest space—five or six bookshelves, a large Black family crest on the wall, and a table with several chairs beneath it.
Sirius pulled back the thick, dark-green curtains. A burst of dust fell, but sunlight streamed in, brightening the gloom.
"That's better… No one can see Number 12 anyway, so why keep them closed?" he said.
"Agreed. Dark rooms aren't good for reading," Blake replied.
Sirius chuckled. "Truth is, except for my brother, no one in the family came here much." He flipped through a random book and put it back. "Don't know how you can enjoy reading—sounds boring to me."
Blake's eyes swept the shelves until they landed on a thick, black-covered volume with no title. The faint pulse of a curse caught his attention. Opening it, he saw the name: Advanced Black Magic Revealed.
A smile tugged at his lips—he'd heard of this book for years. Hogwarts once had a copy in the Restricted Section, but after Dumbledore became headmaster, he locked it away in his office. Blake had never gotten the chance to read it—until now. Carefully avoiding the curse, he flipped through the pages.
"Then you read here; I'll prepare the meal," Sirius said.
"You'll cook yourself?" Blake asked.
"Yeah… my house-elf's useless," Sirius muttered.
Blake tapped the book twice, lifting the small curse. "Oh? He's still around after all these years?"
Sirius grimaced. "Of course. Kreacher—the most loyal servant of my mother and brother. That old loser's worse than ever. He listens to my mother's portrait all day and now he's gone mad. Last time, he served me two slices of moldy black bread for dinner. Said it was proper food!"
Blake raised an eyebrow. "So if you want a safe meal, you have to make it yourself?"
"Exactly. Even if he did cook for you, you'd worry what filth he put in it."
"In that case," Blake said, "I'll cook. I know a thing or two about it."
"You're a guest—" Sirius began, but faltered when Blake asked if he could cook. Sirius scratched his hair awkwardly. His 'cooking' was just toasting bread.
"So I'll handle it," Blake said, lifting the book.
Sirius waved him on. "Take it if you want." He'd never cared for reading, and the books were just gathering dust anyway.
Together they propped the broken door back in place and headed downstairs. Passing the display window, Blake noticed the locket was gone.
Sure enough—Kreacher must have taken it.
"The dining room's on the first floor," Sirius said.
"Let's eat on the second," Blake suggested. "Smell downstairs is… strong."
Sirius agreed but noted the kitchen was below. Blake waved it off. "We'll have hot pot—no kitchen needed."
"What's hot pot?" Sirius asked.
"You'll see."
Clearing the table, Blake pulled a brand-new crucible from his pocket—liberated from Snape's office—and began laying out fresh vegetables, thinly sliced meat, and other side dishes. Sirius stared in disbelief.
Even with an Extension Charm, storing things this neatly—without even wrinkled lettuce—was impressive.
Blake set the crucible over a conjured flame, mixed a dipping sauce, and handed Sirius a slotted spoon and fork.
"When the pot boils, drop in the vegetables or meat. When they're cooked, dip them in the sauce and eat," Blake explained.
Soon, the broth was bubbling, releasing a mouthwatering aroma. Sirius swallowed.
"Of course it's edible," Blake said, dropping a slice of mutton into the pot.
Sirius quickly copied him, then asked, "Can you teach me to use those two little sticks?"
"They're called chopsticks. Sure."
They sat on the sofa, cooking and eating as Blake produced a large bottle of Coke. Sirius devoured the food as though he hadn't eaten well in years—which, Blake realized, was likely true.
From a crack in the door to the next room, a bloodshot eye peeked out. Blake spotted it instantly but ignored it—Kreacher had taken the bait.
When the hot pot was finished, Sirius leaned back with a satisfied burp. "Merlin… this is living. And this Muggle soda—fantastic! I've always liked Muggle things. Had a brilliant flying motorcycle once, you know."
"Aha, you like modifying Muggle machinery too? I do as well—but I worked on a car," Blake replied.
"A car? Where'd you get it?"
"Picked it up in the Forbidden Forest. Believe me?"
"I wouldn't believe anyone else, but you? Absolutely," Sirius laughed.
Blake flicked his hand; the crucible and bowls cleaned themselves, then jumped neatly into his pocket.
"This magic's brilliant," Sirius whistled. "Blake, you're only in your teens, yet so talented. If you'd been at Hogwarts with us, I swear we'd have been best mates."
"Aren't we friends now?" Blake smiled.
"Of course! Just wish I could've introduced you to James… he'd have liked you."
Blake let the thought drop. In truth, with his personality, James might not have liked him—especially if Lily was involved.
Suddenly, Blake pointed to the display window. "Sirius, wasn't there a locket here? Why's it gone?"
Sirius glanced over carelessly. "If it's gone, good riddance. I hated the junk in this place."
"Actually, that locket… something's wrong with it," Blake said seriously.
Sirius frowned. "What do you mean?"
"The aura it gave off reminded me of something I've seen before. I didn't mention it earlier because I thought I might be mistaken. But now—it's gone. That's a problem."
Sirius straightened. "You're serious? You've seen something like it?"
"Something very evil… connected to Voldemort."
"What?!" Sirius leapt to his feet.
Blake took out Advanced Black Magic Revealed. "When I glanced through this earlier, I found a section about such objects." He opened it to the Horcrux chapter.
Sirius read quickly, then looked up in horror. "You mean Voldemort made one of these? And the locket was one of his Horcruxes?"
"Possibly. Even if so, it's just one—he made several."
"That means… he was never truly dead…" Sirius muttered, cold sweat breaking out.
"We need to find it," Blake said firmly.
"Right! Kreacher's the only one who could have taken it." Sirius raised his voice. "Kreacher! Come out!"
Blake hid a small, knowing smile. Time for the house-elf to reveal some secrets—right in front of Sirius.