Chapter 280: Reunion in the Study

Chapter 280: Reunion in the Study

The next day, Sirius Black woke up from his bed, his mind heavy and foggy. It felt as though Kreacher had been banging his head all night, causing a splitting headache.

"Even though I know it's the consequence of overusing the Disillusionment Charm, I can't help but suspect it's related to Kreacher's incessant chatter!"

Sirius walked into the shabby bathroom and washed up in front of the mirror with suspicious dark red marks. He tidied up his hair, shaved off the dirty stubble, and as he showered, the mirror in the bathroom remarked, "You look like a walking skeleton."

He angrily pulled the curtain shut, and memories of his miserable days living here came rushing back.

Half an hour later, he dug out moldy clothes from an old wardrobe. He changed out of the dirty, ragged strips of fabric that once resembled clothing, and he managed to look presentable.

But carefully, he took out a tattered old piece of paper from his pocket. After being soaked in water yesterday, it looked wrinkled. He gingerly unfolded it, trying not to damage the moving photograph on it: It was a picture of the Weasley family winning a prize, with a fat old rat perched on Ron Weasley's shoulder.

He stared at the photo expressionlessly for a moment and then turned away.

"Kreacher, prepare breakfast for me." Sirius called outside, then after a pause, he added, "No spitting, no intentionally making it taste bad, and no... He listed a series of conditions.

Kreacher bowed deeply, muttering curses under his breath as he left.

Sirius took a moment to step outside again, scanning for any suspicious figures. Instead, he spotted a Muggle lady out early for groceries.

"Maybe he's gone," Sirius thought, closing the door. The silver serpent-shaped door knocker "thudded" against the weathered black door. He felt a twinge of unease, staying quiet for a few seconds; nothing happened.

"Something just doesn't feel right..." he pondered.N♡vεlB¡n: Transforming Moments into Memories.

But he couldn't pinpoint anything unusual. He sniffed the air, still catching the musty, dusty smell of decay. Everything in the hallway, from the peeling wallpaper to the threadbare carpet and the dimly lit magical chandelier overhead, seemed eerie. Even the portraits hanging crookedly on the walls appeared exceptionally quiet today, quiet...?

Sirius scrutinized the figures in the portraits carefully. They seemed to be asleep. He approached one, standing before a portrait that might have depicted an illustrious ancestor from the Black family. He lightly tapped the frame.

The aristocrat depicted in the painting had long, flowing curls that reached down to her waist, and she was leaning back in her chair, softly snoring.

Suddenly, Sirius felt as if a piece of ice had been shoved into his stomach, icy and convulsing, and his forehead started to ache. He became restlessly anxious, taking a few large strides to a curtain and yanking it aside.

Behind the curtain was a massive portrait a depiction of an old woman. Her face was gaunt, with high cheekbones, bearing some resemblance to the current Sirius, though he didn't want to admit it. It was his mother.

The same woman who had argued with him for half the day yesterday, who had been so lively, was now sound asleep. She hadn't suddenly woken up to curse him as a "filthy and sinful child." Her drool hadn't even soaked half of her clothes.

Sirius retraced his steps to his room, wand in hand. He felt a bit more at ease. "Maybe I just scared myself," he thought. He began searching room by room, starting from the ground floor, and to prevent any surprises, he called Kreacher back.

"If that man from yesterday shows up, don't ask questions, just get me out of here immediately," Sirius warned the house-elf.

Sirius wanted to continue speaking, but the pointed tip of the silver candle holder inched closer to his mouth, silently issuing a threat. He could only stare helplessly, as if trying to kill Felix with his gaze.

For ten minutes, the study remained silent, the only sound being Sirius's labored breathing. Just as he began to feel his wrist numb from constriction, Felix closed the book "Secrets of Dark Magic Revealed." He sighed and said, "Utterly wicked... I've lost my appetite for breakfast."

Unable to resist a hint of sarcasm, Sirius remarked, "Not very much like your... mentor, are you? Snape used to adore these things when he was young."

"Who doesn't have a hobby?" Felix responded, deflecting lightly.

A brief silence settled between them. Sirius lifted his head to fix his gaze on Felix, demanding, "How did you get in?"

Felix smiled and replied, "I had a little help from the Black family."

"That's impossible!" Sirius retorted, "Though I hate to admit it, I'm the last descendant of the Black family. Only I can enter."

Felix cast a glance at Kreacher.

"He... he's different..."

"Exactly!" Kreacher proudly proclaimed, "Old Kreacher has served the noble House of Black for generations upon generations. For generations upon generations!" Then, his gaze turned malicious as he shot Sirius a look. "The current master doesn't count; he's nothing but blood and no substance. Poor Kreacher has no choice..."

Sirius glared at him, his heart almost ready to strangle him.

Felix rose to his feet and scrutinized the wound on Sirius's forehead. "Potter's scar is on the right, yours is opposite. Quite strange, is it a coincidence?"

"You"

Sirius's eyes widened. He wasn't too concerned about his safety now; he instinctively believed that Felix wouldn't kill him. However, he also realized a more sinister aspect of Felix compared to Snape his words held even more power.

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