At 12 Grimmauld Place.
As the host, Harry led the way in front, while Hermione quietly introduced the layout of this house to Sherlock and his parents.
"This is a five-story villa, and we're currently on the first floor."
The main space of the first floor was occupied by a long hallway, with a row of old-fashioned gas lamps on the walls providing lighting, and the wallpaper had peeled off.
Combined with the carpet that was worn and tattered, even without Sherlock's deductions, one could see this had some years to it.
Although there was also a cobweb-like chandelier overhead flickering with faint light, because the space was too large, the room overall still gave people a somewhat dim feeling, just like the Leaky Cauldron.
Including the chandelier and the candelabra on the nearby table, most of the decorations they could see were made in the shape of snakes.
It seemed to be true love.
Besides this, some portraits blackened with age hung crookedly on the walls.
Those were all members of the Black family.
"Look over there."
Just as Sherlock was staring at those portraits, Hermione lowered her voice and pointed ahead to two long velvet curtains.
Judging from their enormous shape, there should be another door behind them.
However, Hermione gave an unexpected answer:
"Behind them is a portrait of Mrs. Walburga Black."
"Sirius Black's mother?"
Sherlock immediately reacted.
"Right. Once that doorbell is rung, she'll be awakened and start screaming loudly, saying she wants to drive us out of this house."
This officially answered why Harry had just stopped Mr. Holmes from ringing the doorbell.
Hearing this, Sherlock couldn't help but chuckle softly. "Ha, so she doesn't welcome us?"
"To be precise, she just doesn't welcome Muggle-born wizards like us, and maybe half-blood wizards too?"
Hermione shrugged, saying in a teasing tone,
"She should still welcome pure-blood families like the Weasleys... I think?"
Hermione's tone wasn't very certain.
After all, in other pure-blood families' eyes, the Weasley family had willingly degraded themselves, associating with Muggles and Muggle-born wizards, and would even love to knock some sense into them if given the chance.
"Wait, you mean this portrait... can talk?"
Mrs. Holmes heard Sherlock and Hermione's conversation and looked at those two velvet curtains with a face full of surprise.
She was trying hard to imagine what it would be like if a huge portrait suddenly started talking.
"Believe me, Aunt, you won't want to hear her speak."
Not long ago, Hermione had just witnessed this Mrs. Black's bold and unrestrained manner.
How to put it?
Her tongue was sharp, her mouth was spewing crude and vulgar words.
Once you've experienced it once, you never want to experience it a second time.
After giving her advice, she immediately showed a puzzled expression,
"Shouldn't Aunt already know about this?
When Uncle Holmes went to Godric's Hollow with my father last time, he already saw Harry's grandparents' portraits..."
As Hermione said this, she suddenly felt the atmosphere was somewhat wrong and quickly stopped.
Unfortunately, it was too late.
Mrs. Holmes suddenly turned to her husband, her gaze becoming sharp,
"Dear, it seems you never told me about this?"
Mr. Holmes: "..."
Sherlock: ←_←
"I think Uncle probably just forgot."
Harry, seeing the situation wasn't good, immediately and cleverly began to make excuses for Mr. Holmes, "There were so many things that day, it's understandable to forget to mention this."
"I did forget."
Mr. Holmes went with the flow, continuing along with Harry's words,
"Dear Violet, I think you should remember that I drove for a very long time that day."
Under Mrs. Holmes's scrutinizing gaze, Mr. Holmes said calmly.
"After we got home, we chatted for a while and then... we fell asleep soon after."
Mrs. Holmes heard her husband say this and recalled the situation that day.
Not knowing what she thought of, her face suddenly flushed slightly, then she nodded, accepting this explanation.
Hermione secretly regretted inadvertently saying something she shouldn't have, and seeing this, quickly said:
"Let's continue talking about the structure of this house, but it's best if we leave here first."
The group, led by Harry, tiptoed past the huge portrait covered by curtains, mainly not wanting to wake Mrs. Black.
Sherlock actually wanted to witness this lady's eloquence, but Hermione seemed to have anticipated this. Seeing him slow down, she directly reached out and pulled him away from the curtains.
Looking at Sherlock somewhat helplessly, Hermione then pointed to the stairs beside them and continued:
"Besides bedrooms and bathrooms, the second floor also has a magnificent and exquisite drawing room.
There's a large window there that overlooks the street in front of the house.
On both side of a large fireplace are two gorgeous glass cabinets containing... uh... lots of odds and ends, and one wall has a Black family tree tapestry hanging on it."
Speaking to this point, Hermione paused, "But the drawing room is quite messy right now, the curtains are full of doxies everywhere.
Sirius said he's tried several times to throw away the things there, but Kreacher keeps picking them back up and carefully preserving them, which makes him increasingly dissatisfied with Kreacher.
Actually, I think he shouldn't be like this. He's a bit too harsh on Kreacher. Kreacher's just not right in the head and doesn't know what he's..."
"What's this about?"
Sherlock suddenly stopped and pointed to the paneling on the stairway wall beside them.
Following Sherlock's gaze, they saw an entire row of wrinkled house-elf heads gathered there.
Each one had the same ugly big nose, somewhat like the elf Dobby they had seen before.
Seeing this scene, Mrs. Holmes let out a low cry and couldn't help but grip her husband's arm tightly.
She suddenly had a strange feeling—Harry's new home... seemed not to be very good.
Hermione frowned and said nothing.
Harry could only helplessly explain: "Those are all the heads of house-elves who once served the Black family for life."
"Harry, I can tell that without you saying so. What I mean is, why hang their heads here?"
"Uh... this... actually... because the Black family's house-elves all consider lifelong service to their master as their greatest honor.
Their greatest dream is to have their master cut off their head after they're too old to work anymore and hang it on the wall alongside their ancestors' heads as decoration."
"..."
After an awkward silence, it was Hermione who spoke: "Let's continue talking about the room layout."
As she spoke, she secretly pinched Sherlock's hand, hinting that he shouldn't have asked that question just now.
Hermione thought her small gesture was very discreet, but didn't realize that Mr. Holmes beside them had seen it clearly, including her earlier action of pulling Sherlock away from Mrs. Black's portrait.
Mr. Holmes leaned close to his wife's ear and whispered a few words. The couple's gazes toward Hermione immediately became even more affectionate.
Hermione was completely unaware of this and continued working hard to introduce the house to Sherlock and his parents:
"The third and fourth floors are all bedrooms. Harry is currently living in the second bedroom on the third floor. These rooms all have very good lighting and you can see the street and the entrance to this house through the windows.
The fifth floor is the top floor. This floor only has three rooms, and Sirius lives there. I haven't been up there either... oh, we've arrived."
At this point, the group had followed Harry through the main hall to the end of the corridor.
"Going down from here is the basement, and the kitchen is there."
They walked down a narrow stone staircase for a while, arriving at the bottom of the stairs.
After passing through another door, everyone finally arrived at the kitchen Hermione had mentioned earlier.
Unlike the Burrow, the kitchen in the Black Manor had a very large space.
Rather than calling it a kitchen, it might be better to call it a dining room—it could easily accommodate dozens of people.
The kitchen was surrounded by rough stone walls, and because most of the light came from the large fireplace at the other end of the room, combined with this unique structure, the whole kitchen gave people an increasingly cave-like, deep feeling.
In the middle of the room was a long wooden table surrounded by chairs.
However, only two people were there at the moment: Mr. Weasley and Mr. Granger, who had arrived earlier.
Just from their movements and expressions, it wasn't hard to see that Mr. Weasley was, as usual, asking Mr. Granger about Muggle matters.
He was always interested in these things.
On the other side, Mrs. Granger and Mrs. Weasley were wearing aprons and busily working, seemingly preparing lunch for everyone.
However, Mrs. Granger looked somewhat at a loss.
Because she was watching with wide eyes as a set of heavy knives automatically cut meat and chopped vegetables under Mrs. Weasley's supervision.
Technology she'd never seen before!
As Hermione cleared her throat, both Mr. Granger and Mr. Weasley looked up.
"Sherlock, it's been quite a while!"
Mr. Weasley was the first to stand up, walking over in three strides to greet him.
As usual, he enthusiastically grasped Sherlock's hand, "I'm so happy to see you!"
"Mr. Weasley, we just saw each other at King's Cross Station less than a week ago."
Arthur Weasley: "..."
Hermione beside Sherlock couldn't help but smile secretly.
She had long grown accustomed to Sherlock's characteristic of speaking the truth regardless of the occasion.
Mr. Weasley then remembered the routine for talking with Sherlock and quickly turned to greet the Holmes couple. "You two are looking younger and younger, haha!"
Sherlock's parents naturally wouldn't say something as awkwardly truthful as "we're younger than you anyway," like Sherlock would.
Mr. Holmes also exchanged pleasantries with Mr. Weasley, saying things like he looked ruddy and full of energy.
Actually, this wasn't entirely flattery.
Mr. Weasley wore horn-rimmed glasses, was tall and thin with fiery red hair.
Additionally, because his originally balding head had started to grow hair again, he looked even more energetic and spirited.
Harry's Christmas gifts to him over the years had consistently been hair growth products made by the Potter family, and now it seemed the effects were remarkable.
Compared to the enthusiastic Mr. Weasley, Mr. Granger was much calmer.
Only after Mr. Weasley had finished greeting them did he slowly walk over and exchange greetings with the Holmes family of three.
Mainly, he felt a bit put out.
Just now, when he heard Sherlock had arrived, his daughter didn't even say a word to him before directly pulling Harry to run to the door to greet him.
She wasn't this enthusiastic even when he came home after work—hmph!
Moreover, even the host wasn't as anxious as she was.
Although Harry had gone with Hermione to receive Sherlock, he could at most be considered half a host.
His godfather Sirius was the true master of this house.
However, Mr. Granger was well-mannered. Although privately displeased, he showed nothing on his face.
Just as he was thinking this, Sirius Black, whom Mr. Granger considered the host, also came down the stairs.
After greeting the Holmes family, he said apologetically to Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Granger.
"I'm so sorry, you're clearly guests, yet I'm making you help prepare lunch..."
"Don't say that, Sirius."
Mrs. Weasley's hands kept moving as she said efficiently, "This place hasn't been inhabited for more than ten years. It's only right that we help you."
With just those two sentences, Sherlock already understood.
The Weasley family had arrived here earlier than both his family and Hermione's family.
From the letter Harry had written to him earlier and the traces in the room, Sirius and Harry had indeed been doing spring cleaning during this time.
As Harry had said, because he had done plenty of scrubbing and washing at the Dursleys', he thought himself experienced enough to be competent.
Who would have thought this place was simply too large, and coupled with the fact that cleaning a wizard household was different from cleaning a Muggle household after all, the results weren't very ideal.
"I'll help too!"
Mrs. Holmes stepped forward at this moment and greeted Mrs. Granger and Mrs. Weasley familiarly:
"Jane, Molly, what can I do?"
Mrs. Granger showed a bitter smile and pointed at that set of automatically cutting and chopping knives, "It seems we can only help out."
"Oh, please don't say that, with you here, everyone will definitely be able to eat before mealtime otherwise we'd be busy until the afternoon."
Mrs. Weasley humorously joked with them.
After brief communication among the three ladies, Mrs. Holmes began stirring a large pot hanging over the fire.
Mrs. Holmes's participation made Mrs. Granger, who had been uncomfortable adapting to the magical world, breathe a long sigh of relief.
Her gaze toward Sherlock and her daughter also became increasingly tender.
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