This is an old residential area with a gloomy tone, full of overgrown weeds and mottled wall plaster.
But the messy lights showed that there were still many people living here, and the dots of light and shadow were scattered in the darkness before dawn, which looked a bit depressing.
It wasn't until she got closer that Maka discovered that most of the lights were street lights flickering on and off, and a small amount of light coming from the gaps in the curtains.
As far as the eye can see, there are chimneys and TV antennas everywhere.
"just in front."
As they passed a small square covered with tangled weeds, Blake pointed ahead.
No matter how big or small the houses here are, they all have a dirty appearance. The windows of some houses were broken, and it was so dark inside that it was impossible to see anything.
The paint, which had long since lost its luster, was peeling off the doors, and a large amount of trash was piled on the front steps.
"You haven't been home for 12 years." Maka couldn't help but say.
But Blake shook his head and said, "It will take longer than you think."
No. 12 Grimandi Street, an old house that has been ravaged by time. When Maka saw it, it was as dilapidated as the surrounding houses.
Most of the windows were broken, and the thick door was covered with vines. There was no keyhole or mailbox crack.
The silver carved door handle had become twisted and deformed, looking like a small snake fixed on a broken piece of wood.
Looking up, you can also see that there are many spiders entrenched in the corners, trying to catch some delicious flying insects.
The entire area near the base of the wall was damp, covered with dusty moss that was as greasy as Blake's collar.
All right! In fact, whatever Maka looks at now will recall that fatal touch.
Black stretched out his wand and knocked on the door. After hearing several dull, metallic clicks on both sides, a hinge sound followed.
The door broke free from the vines and creaked open.
"It's been unattended for too long. Some random things must have made a home in there... Don't just wander around." Blake said, "Follow me."
Maka followed Blake into the dark hall. Suddenly, a sweet smell mixed with moisture hit her face—the smell of decaying wood.
The floorboards creaked when stepped on, breaking the silence here.
Blake waved his wand casually, and with a soft hissing sound, the old-fashioned gas lamps on all the walls lit up, casting a flickering, very unstable light on the surrounding broken wallpaper, and The light revealed a worn long strip of carpet.
Right above the carpet, there is a tree-shaped decorative light covered with spider webs flickering, and there are old, blackened portraits hanging on the swollen and twisted wooden walls.
To be honest, it would be better not to see this decadent look.
Without saying a word, Blake led Maka through a pair of long, moth-covered door curtains and around a huge umbrella stand that looked like it was made up of several giant legs.
They then walked up a carved wooden staircase with a handrail.
On the wall on one side of the stairs, there is a shield-shaped family crest.
The coat of arms is generally black, with a mountain shape as the main body between the two stars, a sword as the base, and the whole body is made of silver. There are two leaping greyhounds on both sides.
But just below the imposing family crest, a row of shrunken head-shaped objects pasted on the wall as decoration seemed particularly unsightly.
Those were the heads of the house elves of the Black family for generations. Whenever an elf was too old to carry the plate, their heads would be chopped off and used as decorations in the owner's house.
To the house elf, this seemed like an honor.
"... I heard that this was your family's first idea?" Maka said, looking at the row of gadgets.
"Yes, my Aunt Eladora." Black said with a sneer, and then didn't want to talk anymore, "Come this way."
Maka followed Blake all the way to the door of a certain room, but unexpectedly, a small figure suddenly appeared in front of the door, blocking their way.
"Look who Kreacher saw? A son who is not the mistress's son is back from Azkaban... Oh! My poor mistress, what would she say if she saw this house now? A fugitive is back? She has been They all cursed him for not being their son, but he came back, and they all said he was a murderer—"
This was an old house elf, almost naked except for a string of dirty rats tied into a belt around his waist.
The droopy skin makes it look like it's wearing oversized clothes. Although it is bald and hairless like other house elves, a large number of white eyebrows stand out from above its huge, bat-like eyes. came out.
Its eyes were bloodshot, moist and gray, and its flesh-colored nose was as huge as other elves, or more accurately - like a dead Flobber caterpillar.
The elf seemed not to notice the presence of the two of them—it just stood humbly in front of the door with its back hunched and its head lowered.
It murmured hoarsely and deeply in his breath, snoring like a bullfrog.
"Kreacher?" A trace of surprise flashed in Blake's eyes, but then it turned into disgust, "I didn't expect that everyone is dead, but you are still alive."
At this time, old Kreacher raised his head slightly to glance at Black, but lowered his head again the next second.
Then, it bowed deeply, its fat nose almost touching the ground.
Kreacher said vaguely: "How could Kreacher die? If Kreacher dies, who else can continue to take care of the mistress's house?"
"But it keeps getting darker here. This is a dirty ghost place!" Sirius said.
"Master always likes his little jokes," Kreacher bowed again and continued in a low voice, "Master is a dirty, ungrateful pig. He hurt his mother's heart-"
"My mother has no heart, Kreacher," cried Sirius suddenly, "she allows herself to live outside of pure things."
As Black spoke, Kreacher bowed again, as if it had become a reflex.
"No matter what the master says," it grunted angrily, "the master is not worthy of cleaning his mother's boots. Oh! My poor mistress, what will she say if she sees Kreacher continuing to serve him? She is so Hate the Master, how disappointing he is—"
"I don't want to talk nonsense to you anymore, get out of there!" Blake yelled.
Kreacher subconsciously took two steps to the side.
Blake snorted coldly and walked past it, but it still kept muttering something bad in its mouth.
When Maka was about to move forward following Black, Kreacher suddenly raised his voice a little bit—although it was still inconspicuous.
"Oh! Where did this kid come from... The master brought him, a dirty boy. He wants to enter the family library... This is against the rules..."
"However, you have not completed the task that your young master left for you." Maka glanced at Kreacher and said calmly.
Just such a light word from Maka made Kreacher suddenly raise his head. He stared closely at Maka's face and opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something.
"... Come in quickly, don't talk nonsense to it, it won't listen." Blake's voice came from the room.
Maka responded.
"I will come back another day to deal with the locket. Remember to open the door for me." He left a message to Kreacher in a low voice, and then walked in quickly.
"These are the books - will they really help Harry?"
In the library filled with various bookshelves, Blake placed a thick stack of magic books on the wooden table, causing a burst of dust to rise.
The books and wooden table were equally dirty, and Blake was not in the mood to pay attention to anything.
"Of course, at least I can be sure that Voldemort left Harry with a problem in his soul." Maca explained, "That's what Professor Dumbledore said."
Although the collection of books in the Hogwarts library is one of the few in the world, there are always some books that can only be found in the wizarding family.
For example, what's in front of Maka.
"Then put them away and get out of here! I hate this house, then and now—"
…
Ron has become a celebrity in school recently, and everyone now pays more attention to him than to Harry.
This was the first time in Ron's life that he had been treated like this, and he obviously enjoyed the experience of being noticed.
Although he was still shaken by the events of that night, whenever anyone asked him, he would excitedly tell them about the events of that night, adding many exaggerated details.
"... I was asleep at the time, but I heard the sound of tearing things. I thought I was dreaming, you know. But there was another gust of cool wind... I woke up immediately, and then I found that beside the bed One side of the curtain was torn down... I turned over and saw with my own eyes that he was standing in front of me!"
"He was like a skeleton with a big mess of dirty hair! He had a big long knife, I think it was 40 inches long..."
After a while, when he finished, the second-grade girls who had been listening to his creepy story started talking to each other and dispersed.
"But why?" Ron suddenly turned to Harry and asked, "Why did he run away?"
To be honest, Harry was puzzled by this as well.
Black went to the wrong bed, why didn't he kill Ron to silence him and then continue looking for Harry
Twelve years ago, Blake's actions showed that he didn't care about killing innocent people. This time he faced five unarmed boys, four of whom were still asleep.
"Could it be that Maka's guess at that time was reasonable?" Harry suddenly had such an idea.
But Ron shook his head.
"If I want to see, he must know that if I wake up everyone, it will be very difficult for him to get out of the castle!" He guessed wildly, "To go back through the hole in the portrait, he must kill everyone in the courtyard. People! Maybe you can even meet a teacher!"