Chapter 65: 12 Grimmauld Place
On the banks of the Thames, when the hour hand of Big Ben pointed to the number 8, the lingering fog still stubbornly permeated the newly awakened city.
With a soft "puff" sound, two slender, hooded figures appeared out of nowhere in the narrow square. They walked hurriedly, trying to pass through the gloomy houses in front of the square.
"Xiaolong, be careful of those trash!" A woman's pleasant voice came from under the taller hood.
Another figure hopped briskly over the debris piled outside the front steps of the house. A clear, young voice spoke from under the hood, "It's okay, Mom. I saw it."
Finally, they stopped in front of an ordinary-looking house. The woman looked up to identify the house number and whispered to her son, "Number 12, Grimmauld Place. This is it."
Draco followed his mother up the worn stone steps and noticed the paint-chipped black door, covered in a mess of scratches. Narcissa knocked three times on the silver knocker, shaped like a coiled serpent.
A few seconds later, there was a noise at the door.
A man as thin as a withered lotus leaf was peering at them warily from the crack in the door. He had a pair of gloomy eyes and black hair that hung gracefully in front of his eyes. Although his face was thin and haggard, Draco could still tell from his facial features and bone structure that he had once been very handsome.
Narcissa pushed her hood back.
Her face was very white, her lips were painted the latest trendy rose red, and her carefully styled golden hair was draped behind her, as if she was going to attend some high-end dinner.
"Narcissa—" the man opened the door a crack and chuckled briefly, his eyes sweeping over the face of the hooded young man behind her, not ignoring his platinum hair. "And Draco—" he turned and invited them in. "What a rare guest!"
"Sirius." Narcissa greeted him simply, then led her beloved son into the room.
As soon as he entered, Draco smelled a damp, gray smell, and a sweet, rotting odor. He seriously suspected he was poisoned or had an allergy.
"Little dragon, don't touch anything." Narcissa said warily, wrinkling her nose at the dust flying around.
"That's a very clever way of putting it," the man in front said lazily, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "You've touched a lot of things here before."
Narcissa pursed her lips and said nothing more.
As they walked through the long hallway, the old-fashioned gas lamps on the wall flickered to life as they spoke and walked. In the dim light, Draco could barely make out the dark objects on the wall—a row of crookedly hanging portraits.
However, what Draco was most concerned about was the man in front of him. His long legs were dragging a pair of high-top leather shoes, and he walked into the depths of the hallway with tired steps like a long-legged heron.
"Harry!" he called across the hall. "Look who's here!"
With a sound of hurried footsteps, Harry ran out from a door on the other side of the hall.
"Draco," Harry said brightly, "how great to see you!"
Then, he saw Narcissa beside Draco and hesitated. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Malfoy."
Narcissa didn't put on her usual arrogant attitude. She curled her red lips and gave Harry a kind smile, motioning for Draco to take out the beautifully packaged dark green box. "I heard you had your birthday two days ago. Here you go."
"You don't have to be so polite." Harry said hesitantly, looking back at his godfather.
"It's just a little toy," Narcissa said without question.
"Take it, and then take Draco upstairs to play." Sirius smiled at Harry, a suspicious expression on his face.
Narcissa Malfoy had suddenly come to visit him. What was her intention? He didn't think she was kind-hearted and simply wanted to catch up with him. Those who showed kindness without any reason were usually either treacherous or thieves.
Harry tiptoed past two long, moth-eyed velvet curtains, and Draco raised his eyelids to examine them, wondering which one the abusive Great-Aunt Walburga would be under.
They could vaguely hear Narcissa complaining, "Sirius, this place is a kennel..."
Around a giant umbrella stand that looked like a troll's leg and through a decorative panel made of house-elf heads, Draco followed Harry, chatting with him as they went up the dark stairs.
"I heard that you blew up your Muggle aunt the day Sirius came to pick you up?" Draco asked.
"Oh, you know that too? To be exact, she's not my aunt, but my cousin Dudley's aunt." Harry whispered.
"Quite creative, I must say—" Draco stifled a laugh.
"That's what Sirius said later," Harry grinned. "He told me 'well done' for saying something insulting about my parents."
Draco shrugged.
"Although, I guess they sent you a warning letter. Don't do it a second time or you'll be expelled," he reminded Harry.
"I know, I just couldn't help it. But I don't regret it. I guess there won't be another chance in the future. Seeing how furious my uncle and aunt are, I probably won't have to go back there for the summer vacation again." Harry said lightly.
"Congratulations." Draco chuckled and continued to follow him upstairs.
Harry was obviously very familiar with this place and it seemed that he had explored this dark and gloomy mansion many times.
The old Black house was strangely filthy.
As they passed a high-ceilinged living room on the second floor, they heard the frantic sound of mice scurrying. Draco peered into the living room, only to see the olive-green walls covered in filthy tapestries. Dust billowed from the living room like smoke and fog, causing the two passersby to sneeze several times.
"I hate dust," Draco said, covering his nose. Now he was sure he had allergies.
He frowned and continued to climb up. Amid the creaking sound of the stairs, he heard Harry coughing and said, "Indeed, Sirius said that this place hasn't been cleaned in a long time. We'd better not go in. It's full of dangerous dark magic items. He said yesterday that he wanted to find time to clean this place up."
Finally, Harry stopped at the room on the right side of the third-floor landing and opened the door. "Come in."
Draco walked into the room and found it dark and damp. On the wall was a blank canvas embedded in an ornate picture frame. Apart from that, there were large areas of mottled and peeling wall paint.
He looked out the window. The sunlight outside did not fully shine in because there was a thick layer of dirt on the window.
There were several newspapers scattered on the table by the window, and Draco could vaguely see: "The Ministry of Magic confirmed today that Peter Pettigrew is still at large. He is probably the most evil prisoner ever held in Azkaban Prison..." The following words were soaked by a tea stain and became blurred.
"How's it going?" Harry asked him, a hint of smugness in his tone. "I must say, this room is much bigger than the one I had at Privet Drive. And, most importantly, it's free."
However, Draco couldn't bring himself to say the compliment.
The living conditions were completely uncomfortable for him. Even the quilt on the large carved bed felt cold to the touch.
The only bright thing in the room was the framed wedding photo of Harry's parents - it was placed on the only relatively clean bedside table - it was a recent birthday present from Draco to Harry.
"Are you used to living here?" Draco asked calmly, glancing at the worrying bedroom environment out of the corner of his eye.
"It's never been better," Harry said with a broad grin.
Draco gave him a faint smile.
Harry's cheerful state didn't seem fake. What kind of life had he lived in his previous Muggle home? Was it worse than this? But according to Dobby, at least it was clean and tidy.
"It seems that you get along well with your godfather." After a few seconds of silence, Draco came to the most likely conclusion.
"He's cool, even better than I thought." Harry's face showed an unconcealable joy. "He told me a lot about my parents."
This remark aroused Draco's hidden sympathy. This silly child - how easily satisfied.
He weighed the box in his hand and tossed it to Harry.
"Look at my mother's gift," Draco said.
Narcissa was always very polite when asking someone for a favor; Draco happened to know a few of Harry's hobbies and provided his mother with some gift-giving suggestions.
"What's this?" Harry asked as he unpacked it.
"Gobstones (a wizarding toy similar to marbles, where the stones spray a foul-smelling liquid in the faces of those who lose). I remember you liking that unpopular thing." Draco shrugged.
"Wow..." Harry finally opened the package and exclaimed in admiration at the set of pure gold Gobstones, looking very happy. "I've wanted to buy this for a long time."
Draco smiled faintly, knowing that his advice was correct.
However, Harry's bright smile was somewhat out of place in this dark room. He endured it again and again, but finally gave up his politeness and asked: "Don't the Black family have house elves?"
"There is indeed one, his name is Kreacher. He is responsible for cooking three meals a day for us, but they are not delicious. I don't think he likes us." Harry fiddled with the chess pieces with shining eyes, and did not find the offense in Draco's question.
"I should have brought you some more snacks. Didn't you ask Kreacher to clean the room?" Draco simply continued to ask openly.
"Of course, he claims he's been cleaning for a month. But the house is getting dirtier and darker every day." Harry shrugged and said as if it was a matter of course.
"This is ridiculous. Do you even know how to use house-elves?" Draco shook his head, unable to tolerate such a filthy environment any longer. He snapped his fingers at the air, "Dobby."
Dobby appeared in front of the bed with a thud.
When it saw Harry, a look of surprise and joy appeared on its face, and it said in a shrill voice: "Noble little master! And the great Harry Potter!"
"Clean up Harry's room. Now, immediately, as quickly as possible," Draco ordered.
Dobby nodded quickly. This house-elf was quite experienced in this matter. Not long ago, he had cleaned up the two-story house in Hogsmeade village, clearing out all the old debris and garbage left by Mrs. Mason, and won the praise of the Weasley twins.
While Dobby was cleaning the room, Draco and Harry tried a few rounds of Gobstones, both of them got sprayed in the face with stinky spray. When they wiped their faces and looked around, the room had been transformed.
The wallpaper was brand new, the windows were spotless, the furniture was sparkling clean, the quilt on the bed became soft and fluffy, and the room even had a faint scent of cologne.
Dobby stood respectfully by the door, puffing out his chest proudly and saying, "Dear young master and Harry Potter, is there anything else Dobby can do for you?"
"That's enough, that's great." Harry was speechless at the new environment. He hadn't recovered from the shock yet.
"Go and help Harry clean the living room on the second floor." Draco said lazily, "Take out the trash and put the dangerous items aside."
Dobby nodded complacently and disappeared.
"This is the correct way to use a house elf," Draco said to Harry with satisfaction. He took out his wand and cast an anti-jamming charm on the door, revealing his true purpose to Harry.
"Have you ever asked about his experience in Azkaban?" Draco asked seriously.
"I asked him, but he refused to say. When we talked about that, he always evaded the question, so I didn't dare ask again." Harry said in confusion, not understanding why Draco brought up this.
"It's normal for him to be so secretive about this. Azkaban is a wizard prison located on an isolated island far away from people. It is guarded by a group of terrible creatures called Dementors who feed on sucking other people's souls." Draco pondered.
"Dementors?" Harry asked curiously. This was a new term to him.
"This is not an interesting species," Draco said with disgust.
At this moment, Harry was looking confused and was still unaware of the horror of Dementors.
Draco sighed quietly inwardly.
Dementors will be your worst fear, your Boggart.
"Dementors are called 'demons without souls'." He thought for a while and decided to explain it to Harry.
Harry would have to know it sooner or later. Better to be prepared than to be caught off guard and scared to death by the Dementors.
He stared at Harry's blank face and said solemnly, "They feed on people's positive emotions. Once prisoners are imprisoned for a period of time, they lose all their beliefs, good feelings, and thoughts. The darkest and most terrible memories keep replaying in their minds. Some go mad, and some die in despair."
"No wonder Hagrid is so afraid of Azkaban." A thoughtful expression appeared on Harry's face.
In his second year, Hagrid had been nearly sent to Azkaban because he was suspected of opening the Chamber of Secrets, and he had been terrified at the time - and he was already the bravest and most fearless person Harry had ever met.
"Most prisoners go crazy within a few weeks. And your godfather was there for eleven years." Draco said expressionlessly.
"What did he go through in there?" Harry couldn't help but say, a look of horror and sympathy on his face.
He had never really thought about what Sirius had been through in the wizard prison these days. He was completely immersed in the joy of living with his godfather; besides, Sirius tried his best to pretend that he didn't care.
"None of us knows, except him," Draco said calmly. "As you can see, he's a miracle. He's a little weak physically, but he's not mentally broken. He must have some way of getting rid of the Dementors, and those methods might be used by Peter Pettigrew as well."
"I see." Harry frowned, looking worried. "I'll try to talk to him again..."
Whether it was how to get rid of the Dementors or his life in Azkaban... He wanted to know everything about his godfather...
Their conversation was interrupted here - several shrill shouts were heard from downstairs, interspersed with curses.
Draco's silencing spell only blocked the prying eyes outside the house, but he could still hear the movements outside the room. Hearing the sound, he and Harry hurried down the stairs and rushed to the living room on the second floor to see what was going on.
It was an unimaginable mess—two house-elves wrestling in the dust.
An ugly house-elf twisted Dobby's ears and kept yelling, "Thief! Scum! You took the master's things!"
"Kreacher, stop!" Sirius Black appeared at the door like a ghost, staring at the elf impatiently. The hideous elf immediately let go of the poor Dobby - its neat little clothes were now covered with dust.
Kreacher reluctantly bowed deeply to his master, his large nose flattened on the ground.
"Stand up straight and talk," the man said, his gaunt face filled with boredom. "What are you doing?"
"Kreacher caught the thief and he stole the master's things!" Kreacher said angrily in a hoarse voice.
Draco looked at it out of the corner of his eye with disgust - it was a very old house-elf, naked except for a dirty rag around its waist, and a lot of white hair grew out of its two large bat-like ears.
"Dobby is not a thief. Dobby is cleaning the living room for the honorable Harry Potter on the orders of his master!" Dobby, who was standing aside, stared with aggrieved eyes and argued sharply, as if he was extremely dissatisfied with being regarded as a "thief".
"That's right." Harry said to his godfather quickly, "Draco brought him here, and he just cleaned my bedroom for me..."
"Only Kreacher has the right to clean the mistress's house!" After hearing this, Kreacher became even more angry and put on an insulted expression.
"You call that 'cleaning'?" Sirius said to Kreacher with a cold expression, "Don't think I don't know that every time you come out of your room, you pretend to be cleaning, but in fact you are secretly taking something back to your room and not letting us throw it away."
"It's not stealing, it's keeping! Kreacher would never take anything from the young master's house away from its proper place! Kreacher is keeping their belongings for the noble mistress and the young master!" Kreacher gritted his teeth and bowed to Sirius again, his bloodshot eyes staring fiercely at Dobby, "Unlike him, he took the young master's things, this dirty thief! The scum of the house-elf!"
Even though Draco didn't want to pay attention to Kreacher, he couldn't help but feel a little offended by such a harsh accusation.
It was accusing the Malfoys' house-elf, and to be more precise, the Malfoys themselves. Of course, Draco's face would be unhappy. He looked at Dobby, "Did you take anything?"
Dobby shook his ears in indignation, as if he had suffered a great humiliation. "Dobby is a good elf and would never do anything immoral! Dobby simply put away some dangerous dark magic items in the cupboard for the noble Harry Potter to deal with!"
It dragged out a thick, large bag from behind, opened the bag, and shook it for everyone to see. Draco took a quick look and saw a silver snuff box, a particularly ugly silver tweezer-shaped instrument, a music box, a bunch of antique seals, and a dusty souvenir box.
"Yes, it didn't lie." Harry nodded to his godfather.
It really didn't steal anything, it was just faithfully following the orders Draco gave it.
"You did very well." Draco retracted the coldness in his tone and comforted it softly.
Dobby tilted his head and looked up at him, looking a little uneasy, his eyes watery.
Now that the truth was out, there was no need to question him any further. "Alright, go back to your room. Don't show up in the living room again without my permission." Sirius said sternly, looking at Kreacher with disgust.
Kreacher didn't dare disobey a direct order.
It cast a look of deep hatred at its master, then shrugged its big head and walked out, kicking and stomping, muttering, "The young master is not even worthy of polishing the mistress's shoes! Noble mistress... What would he say if he saw Kreacher serving the young master? The young master would throw away all the mistress's and the young master's things. The young master would definitely be very sad. Kreacher must stop it..."
Draco watched coldly.
He bet that Kreacher must have secretly taken something when he went out, which seemed to be a large gold ring with the Black coat of arms on the coffee table.
"I think he's gotten a little confused because of his old age. He always says nonsense and crazy things." Sirius softened his tone and said to the two boys in the living room.
"Where is my mother?" Draco suddenly realized that there was something wrong with the number of people. He raised his eyelids and looked at Sirius.
"She's out for something and will pick you up later." Sirius tried to give him a kind smile, but his high cheekbones made the attempt less so. "She told me to tell you not to touch anything suspicious."
Draco glanced at him and nodded perfunctorily.
He was guessing his mother's movements in his mind.
With her temper, she was actually at ease leaving me alone at the Black mansion?
She was so flustered that she left without even saying goodbye. She must have something urgent to do.
"I've got your message, whether you listen or not is up to you." Sirius noticed Draco's absent-mindedness and thought he was dissatisfied with it, so he added another sentence without taking it seriously.
In his opinion, it is impossible for a normal boy of this age not to be interested in dangerous things.
Draco raised his eyebrows, not caring about where Narcissa had gone, a feeling of surprise welling up in his heart.
Is this what a responsible parent would say? Why does he feel that Harry's godfather doesn't seem to be any more reliable than Hagrid?
"By the way, Draco, I haven't thanked you formally yet. You captured Peter Pettigrew, which is equivalent to saving me." At this moment, Sirius' smile seemed much more sincere.
"You're welcome." Draco looked at the stalk-like young man and gave him a distant smile. "I stumbled upon it by accident."
Narcissa didn't know when she would be back. To pass the time, Draco patiently comforted Dobby, who was sobbing, with Harry.
Then, it continued to happily clean the dirty living room for the great Harry Potter it spoke of. The other three people in the living room, who had nothing to do, squatted in front of the big bag, curiously looking at the things that Dobby defined as "incredibly dangerous."
Sirius Black, bored, picked up a nondescript keepsake box and looked at it, seemingly unable to open it. Draco followed suit, trying to open it, but he was equally helpless against the heavy, gray object.
It looked harmless, but Dobby was certain it contained extremely powerful magic. Elves were very sensitive to objects with magical fluctuations, but Draco still wondered if Dobby had made a mistake.
But then, Dobby's ability to discern was recognized. The ugly silver instrument in Harry's hand suddenly crawled up his arm like a spider, trying to pierce his skin. Sirius quickly snatched it away and picked up a book - Draco recognized it as "Noble Born: A Wizarding Family Tree" - and swatted it to death.
This little shock actually brought a hint of interest to Sirius's depressed face.
He tentatively touched the silver snuffbox in the corner of the bag, but it bit him hard, and within seconds, an unsightly crust formed on his bony hand.
"It's okay." He examined his hand with a sharp gaze, and tapped it lightly with his oak wand, and the skin on his hand returned to normal. "It must be sarcoma powder in it."
Draco was beginning to understand what Harry had meant when he said his godfather was "cool".
It's hard not to like Sirius once you've spent some time with him. Lucius and Narcissa would never let him touch any Dark Arts items, let alone watch or learn from them—even though Lucius himself is a fan of Dark Arts items.
But Sirius was different. He didn't seem to be a fan of dark magic items, but he didn't forbid the boys from touching them. "It's good to take a closer look. You have to learn how to deal with these things, right?" He said to Harry lazily, and knocked out a buzzing vixen with a book.
He had a nonchalant attitude towards these things, which put any curious boy at ease and quickly warmed to him.
Of course, Draco had to admit that when it came to raising children, these actions could easily be defined as "arrogant" if he weren't talented enough to handle those dark magic items with ease.
But he had the capital to be arrogant. In his slender hands, those dangerous black magic items were as obedient as insects that he could crush and twist into balls.
This was exactly the look teenage boys admired - the Weasley twins would have loved him.
"Are you going to throw them away?" Draco asked, holding the bag with interest.
As Dobby diligently cleaned the bag, a pile of rusty daggers, animal claws, a coiled snake skin, a decorative crystal bottle filled with unknown liquid, and a large number of dull and black silver boxes appeared.
"Of course, it's all useless," Sirius said absently.
Draco noticed that he seemed to be preoccupied with other things, as evidenced by the fact that he was lost in thought as he removed the Dark magic from the old objects.
"Can you give it to me? I have a few friends who really like to tinker with prank products." Draco asked without hesitation.
"Take them all, take them all." Sirius was full of thoughts. He threw a rather suspicious-looking music box back into the bag in Draco's hand, waved his hand perfunctorily, walked out of the chaotic living room filled with unconscious vixens, and returned to his room.