Ethan looked up at the building's exterior. From outside, it appeared dilapidated and rundown, windows covered in layers of grime—like a haunted house materializing from thin air, forming a stark contrast with the warm, tidy houses surrounding it.
"I should warn you," Sirius said with obvious discomfort. "There are some rather... unpleasant things in this house."
His face was gloomy with old memories. However, before he finished his warning, Ethan walked past him and impatiently pushed through the heavy door.
This bold move made Sirius pause, then chuckle with genuine appreciation. Looking at Ethan with newfound respect, he called out, "Hey! How did someone this fearless end up in boring Ravenclaw?"
Should've come to Gryffindor!
"Exactly. I should've gone to Hufflepuff," Ethan replied casually.
Sirius stared in confusion: "???" What? He fell into deep doubt. Had Hufflepuff evolved into something completely different during his decade-plus imprisonment?
Stepping inside, Ethan instinctively held his breath, scanning the surroundings with alert curiosity—walls marked by decades of neglect, peeling wallpaper hanging in strips, filthy carpets that left visible footprints with every step, and spiderwebs covering every corner like deliberate decoration.
Ethan took a deep breath of the stale, moldy air and sighed with exaggerated appreciation. "Your family's aesthetic is truly excellent. I must commend you."
Look at those perfectly symmetrical spiderwebs displaying such aristocratic dedication to decay.
Sirius glared flatly: "...Whatever makes you happy."
Ethan walked forward along the narrow corridor, his gaze sweeping over faded, blackened paintings covering the walls—until he stopped before a massive portrait. He stood beneath this giant artwork, eyes bright with genuine amazement. "Wow..."
This was an extraordinarily skillful painting, rendered with photographic realism. If not for standing close enough to see the delicate individual brushstrokes, at first glance it would appear to be an actual person—an elderly woman sleeping soundly. By conventional standards, she wasn't attractive—deeply wrinkled face, waxy yellow skin, wearing a black lace cap.
Sirius muttered under his breath, "Damn..." Ignoring Ethan's absorption in the artwork, he urgently searched around for something specific.
Just then, a sharp, raspy voice rang from the corridor's shadowy end. "Young—young master...?!"
Sirius stopped his frantic searching, straightened up, rolled his eyes skyward dramatically, and sighed with heavy resignation. "Great, now it's going to get lively around here."
Ethan reluctantly turned from the portrait, shifting his attention to the new arrival. He saw a deeply wrinkled house-elf wearing what appeared to be a filthy rag as an apron, its drooping bat-like ears trembling, staring at Sirius in disbelief.
Then it reacted with sudden, violent enthusiasm—its upper body bent down sharply. The force sent its head slamming into the floor with an audible bang! Hard to say that wasn't deliberate self-punishment.
The next second, the elderly woman in the portrait jolted awake. When those malevolent eyes spotted Sirius, they widened dramatically, turning sharp and venomous with hatred!
Shrieking at ear-splitting volume, "Family disgrace! The worthless wretch I birthed! How dare you return to this house?!"
The voice was shrill, like fingernails scraping down glass. Then that malicious gaze suddenly shifted to fixate on Ethan! She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, her nose twitching like a dog scenting something offensive, then cursed with renewed fury:
"And—and you brought back some Mudblood filth from who-knows-where! To defile my noble forefathers' ancestral home!"
Veins bulged at Sirius's temples. Ashamed and furious, he roared back, "Shut up! You terrible old hag! Close your stinking mouth that only spews poison!"
The old woman's painted face went deathly pale as she began screaming desperately, as if being physically tortured. The shrill screams quickly woke other portraits throughout the house, making them cry out in sympathetic chorus—forming a scalp-tingling cacophony.
Sirius trembled with barely controlled rage, any lingering nostalgia evaporating completely. He wanted to tell Ethan to leave temporarily, wait until he handled this family mess, and then return safely. But before he could speak, something cold and hard pressed against his exposed neck.
Instantly, as if someone hit a magical pause button, the main screamer—his nominal mother—suddenly stopped as if her throat had seized, falling into shocked silence. Eyes wide with dawning terror, staring straight at the scene.
What happened? Sirius froze, turning his head sideways. He saw Ethan holding his wand with perfect steadiness, pressing it firmly against his neck. Face gentle, speaking with elegant refinement:
"Make one more sound, and I'll kill him. Kill the very last of your precious Black family bloodline—" Ethan's cobalt-blue eyes fixed unblinkingly on the old woman, using the gentlest voice to deliver the most vicious threat imaginable: "Make your supposedly noble Black family line extinct forever."
Sirius stared in complete shock: "?!!"
At these chilling words, the entire corridor fell into pin-drop silence. The old woman's portrait looked like she desperately wanted to leap from the canvas and murder Ethan with her bare hands, yet kept her mouth tightly shut, not daring another sound. She didn't dare gamble on whether he was bluffing—that boy's eyes were clearly those of someone who'd actually killed before. Ice-cold to the bone marrow, making her spine chill with genuine fear!
Sirius was utterly dumbfounded. The noise problem that had plagued the entire Order of the Phoenix was so easily solved. A genius! An unprecedented approach! After all, which supposedly righteous person would think to threaten using their own family member's life as leverage?
In the heavy, oppressive silence, Sirius's mother's portrait was covered by thick cloth Ethan conjured with a casual wand flick—using Sirius's deliberately chosen bright red color as a final insult.
After finishing this task, Sirius stood with hands on hips, feeling indescribably refreshed and vindicated. "...Thanks, kid." He looked at Ethan with genuinely complex emotions, gratefully patting his shoulder. "Search this mansion as thoroughly as you like—take whatever you want."
Hearing this generous permission, before Ethan could respond, a toad-like hoarse voice interrupted with venomous hostility, "What?! A filthy Mudblood dares covet noble pure-blood family possessions?! Simply shameless—"
Ethan turned calmly, seeing that severely wrinkled house-elf staring at him with bloodshot eyes absolutely burning with hatred.
"Shut up, you useless waste!" Sirius said hoarsely. "I'm master of this broken house now—I'll give things to whoever I damn well please!" Turning to Ethan: "He's the Black family house-elf, named Kreacher. Ha, just another lunatic."
His words dripped with obvious disgust and contempt. Hmm—I remember Sirius was indirectly killed by this house-elf's betrayal in the original timeline, Ethan thought with clinical interest.
Hearing Sirius's dismissive words, Kreacher bowed his head deeply in pretend respect. "Young master can certainly make his own decisions." Then in a voice he mistakenly thought no one could hear, he cursed venomously, "Filthy lowly Mudblood! Defiling Mistress's sacred house!"
Sirius immediately drew his wand, ready to give the elf a punishing curse. Mental states equally matched—both quite concerning, Ethan observed.
Ethan raised his hand, stopping the furious Sirius mid-motion. After thinking briefly, his face suddenly bloomed with a bright, perfectly harmless smile. Bending down to Kreacher's level, looking directly into those hate-filled eyes, he said with gentle softness:
"Kreacher, give me the locket your former master—Sirius's brother Regulus—entrusted to your care."
As the words fell, that seemingly fearless house-elf's eyes suddenly widened with genuine shock! Filled with incredible terror and disbelief!