Septimus Malfoy?
Little Sirius always thought the name sounded familiar, but he had forgotten where he heard it.
"I seem to have heard of such a Malfoy, but I forgot where," Little Sirius shrugged and said, "Okay, I was just asking, not trying to dig deep — so, Miss Swedding, if you were resurrected, what materials would you need?"
"Mr. Leme is searching," Pabi said with a smile, "I remember he found a very suitable magic potion, but it needs time to brew... Calculating the time, it should be around next February? I'm not sure."
"Isn't that soon?" Little Sirius said with a grin, looking at Harry, "You should be with Miss Swedding a lot during this time, to avoid delaying the resurrection or ending up with a not-so-great effect, don't you think, Harry?"
Little Sirius really wished his godson could be glued to Pabi every day. In his view, a Hufflepuff-born girl might not be romantic but was steady and reliable, making her the perfect wife...
No, it should be said that a Hufflepuff girl is the best choice for a good wife and mother.
Capable of hosting and cooking, could you really expect a woman like Miss Malfoy to cook?
Little Sirius couldn't quite imagine Cassandra cooking, perhaps she'd stew snake soup for Harry?
Honestly...
Bleh!
Cassandra tugged at the corner of her mouth; she wanted to say something but held back.
Never mind, Harry was around; that was his dog of a godfather.
Still needed to give him some face...
"How much longer until we arrive?" she asked offhandedly.
"Almost there," Little Sirius said, "I haven't been back for a long time; since getting out of Azkaban, I haven't returned home — you probably don't know what kind of woman my mother is, my goodness..."
"What kind?" Ron asked, interested.
"Oh," Little Sirius didn't even need to imagine, immediately giving a perfectly fitting descriptor: "a dreadful shrew."
"How can you say that about your mom?" Hermione frowned.
Little Sirius wasn't angry; he merely raised a finger and said quite emphatically, "You don't understand my mother to make judgments; if you can say that after meeting her, I'll accept your criticism."
"Oh." Hermione nodded and fell silent.
She wondered what kind of mother could make a son hate her like this?
Quite looking forward to it.
The carriage flew quickly, reaching the entrance of number twelve Grimmauld Square in less than half an hour.
The door of the house seemed not to have been repaired for a long time, looking somewhat decayed. As Little Sirius pushed the door, it fell to the ground with a bang.
Almost simultaneously, a House-Elf appeared before them.
The House-Elf had nothing on but a dirty rag around his waist; his skin seemed much larger than his actual body needed, his head bald, with a heap of white hair growing from his bat-like large ears, bloodshot eyes, and a big, pig-like nose.
"It's Kreacher," Little Sirius said to everyone, "the Black family House-Elf."
Unexpectedly, Kreacher opened weary eyes, raised his head to glance at Little Sirius, showing disdain and dislike.
"Look, the traitorous wretch of the Black family has returned, dare he come back; if the mistress sees, Kreacher will be scolded for accepting such a family betrayer back."
Kreacher rasped in his calf-like voice, bending lower, mumbling towards his knees.
"Oh!" Hermione shot an indescribable look at Kreacher, whispering to Ron, "His insults are quite filthy..."
"There's worse," Little Sirius seemed accustomed to Kreacher's attitude, "Clean the house, I'm preparing to return here with my godson's friends for Christmas. Understood, Kreacher?"
He proceeded to introduce Kreacher, "This is my friend Lupin — you've seen him, and this is my godson, Harry Potter, and these are his friends: Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Pabi Swedding..."
Kreacher raised his head to glance.
"I knew the traitorous scoundrel would descend to mixing with the traitorous Weasley and a Mudblood... and a Ghost?"
"Hey, mind your words!" Ron spoke disaffectedly.
Kreacher did not retort, just grumbled irritably, "Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, heavens..."
All of this ceased as he saw Cassandra.
His eyes suddenly brightened.
"And this esteemed Slytherin Miss is?" he inquired.
"Cassandra," Little Sirius said, "Cassandra Malfoy."
"So, the prestigious Miss of the Malfoy family," Kreacher's eyes lit up, "Seems the traitorous master isn't entirely lost, at least he knows to befriend a Slytherin..."
"She's not my friend, she's my godson's good friend..." Little Sirius eagerly clarified, seemingly keen to avoid any relations with any Slytherin.
"Young Master Potter shows discernment, at least surpassing his beastly godfather by much," Kreacher bowed deeply to Harry and Cassandra, "Welcome, Young Master Potter and Miss Malfoy — do come inside, Kreacher welcomes your arrival."
Little Sirius inhaled deeply.
Never mind, forget it...
"Apologies," Little Sirius turned to Hermione and Ron, "You know the Black family is a bit extreme, sorry for any inconvenience caused."
"No worries." Hermione just found it intriguing, not angering — Ron was the same.
They stepped into the Black Family Mansion, as Harry entered the front door, a sense of foreboding filled him.
As expected, a roar erupted from the wall.
"Sirius Black!" the portrait on the wall screamed, "How dare you show your face here, you pure-blood traitor! Worthless as a dog, I rue the day I birthed you, better a Yorkshire pudding than birthing this mongrel!"
"My god, how holy your mom is!" Hermione gasped at the shout, instinctively jumping.
Little Sirius turned back to Hermione, gestured correctively with his finger, "No, no, not so holy my mom."
"You disgrace the pure-blood! A maggot-hearted abomination bringing a Mudblood to my house..."
Mrs. Black showcased her vocabulary, attempting verbally to drive Little Sirius out.
Witnessing Mrs. Black like this made Hermione show an understanding look.
"Apologies, Sirius." Hermione raised her head, sincerely looking at Little Sirius.
She vowed, had she a mother like that she'd have jumped from the sixth floor long ago.
"Now you see my mother's might?" Little Sirius shrugged nonchalantly, "She stuck her portrait here with a Permanent Stick Spell; I can't throw her out... So, for the next few days let's avoid her to prevent verbal attacks..."
Just as everyone thought Mrs. Black would continue scolding, Phineas Black suddenly appeared in her portrait.
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