"Uh… Professor, is he alright?" Harry and the others asked Professor Lupin.
"He's fine, he's probably just stuck under the bathtub," Professor Lupin explained.
However, Kayson didn't walk back immediately; instead, he headed towards number 221. Soon after, he drove a Black SUV out of the garage at 221. As he passed Sherlock, who was trapped under the bathtub, he politely honked the horn.
"Get in!"
When he stopped at his own doorstep, he honked again, signaling for them to get in.
"Professor, why don't we go directly to Grimmauld Place? Why do we have to take a car?" Ron asked from the back.
"Because while I know the name Grimmauld Place, I don't know where Grimmauld Place is. I need to find a map," Kayson said, handing the map to Professor Lupin in the passenger seat.
"Doesn't Professor Lupin know either? Aren't you and Sirius friends?" Harry also asked curiously.
"Sirius's relationship with his family wasn't very good during our school years, so if we privately chose to visit someone's house, we wouldn't choose Sirius's home. Especially after he ran away from the Black Old House, I knew even less," Professor Lupin said while carefully searching the map…
"Here, found it."
Kayson leaned over and took a look: "It's not far, huh."
.....
Noon…
"Grimmauld Place number twelve… eleven… thirteen… Hey! Honestly, the people here are truly damned mathematical geniuses. Haven't they noticed something missing all these years?" Kayson exclaimed with a laugh.
"There are things you don't understand, too, huh. We just need to hold the letter Sirius gave us. Besides being a letter, it's also a medium, a medium for the Fidelius Charm," Professor Lupin pulled out the letter from his pocket, glanced at it, then looked up, and an old, dark building appeared before him.
The others followed suit, seeing the building as well, and walked to the door to ring the doorbell.
"So the oldest Pure-blood families, their doorbell is… an electric bell?" Neville poked his head out from behind and complained.
"It seems so, and it's quite humorous that the ancestral home of the oldest Pure-blood families is in a Muggle neighborhood. That's pretty funny in itself," Kayson added.
As soon as he finished speaking, the door opened, and a gloomy House-elf, named Kreacher, whose bones seemed to protrude like steel wires under his skin, appeared before them.
"It was those filthy Muggles who built their city around the great Black Old House! Not the Black Old House built within the Muggle city!"
"Hey, hey! You're here, come on, everyone, come in! This old fellow didn't say anything to you, did he?" Sirius came clattering down the stairs, arms spread in a Y-shape, greeting them.
"No, he didn't," Kayson shook his head and carefully walked around the House-elf.
After most people had bypassed Kreacher, it was Hermione's turn. Hermione even smiled politely at Kreacher, but he reached out and stopped her.
"The great Black Old House cannot accept mudbloods."
Before Kayson and the others could react, Sirius angrily walked over and kicked Kreacher hard: "These are my guests, watch your mouth!"
"It is, if the old master were here, this filthy—ugh!" Kreacher clearly wanted to say more, but Sirius directly sealed his mouth with magic.
"I'm sorry, Hermione, this fellow is indeed a spoilsport, don't take it to heart," he said apologetically to Hermione.
"It's fine, they're all pitiful," Hermione clearly didn't take this little incident to heart.
Sirius led them into the living room and they sat down: "How should I put it, this big house holds really bad memories for me, so I invited you over to see if there's anything you like in this house. Feel free to take whatever you want, then I'll remove the protective charms here and sell it, and then buy a house on Privet Drive… Uh, Harry, you don't mind, do you?"
Harry quickly shook his head: "Of course not, does that mean I can live with you?"
Sirius nodded with a smile: "Of course, but you can't be too far from your aunt and uncle. The protective magic your mother, Lily, cast on you is based on blood ties; you can't be too far from your blood relatives."
"Oh, they'd be glad if I were far away," Harry muttered softly.
"You can't say that. You can't be irresponsible with your own safety just because they dislike you," Kayson explained while looking curiously at Kreacher, who seemed to be covered in lice not far away.
"That's right… Professor, what are you looking at?"
Everyone looked in Kayson's direction, only to see Kreacher neatly placing the tea tray on the ground, then he vigorously clawed at his mouth, twisting his entire body as if he had lice.
"Does he want to speak? Sirius, let him go and see what he wants to say?" Hermione said softly.
"Alright," Sirius nodded and looked at Kreacher again: "But if you dare to insult my friends again, I'll chop you up… vertically."
Soon, Kreacher regained the right to speak, and he roared loudly: "Prodigal! You dare to defile the great Black Old House, wanting to sell it to Muggles! You have betrayed the ancestors of the House of Black! They are all ashamed of you!"
Sirius leaned back on the sofa indifferently: "So what? As if this house is so great. It has no natural light, no ventilation."
"This is the historical legacy of the House of Black!"
Kayson sat on the sofa, smacking his lips. Although it wasn't good to say this as an outsider, seeing Kreacher, a slave, feeling distressed over his master's wealth and glory, he still felt a strange sensation.
But fortunately, Kreacher is a House-elf; there shouldn't be such people among humans in real life.
They are barely able to feed themselves, yet they pity those high-and-mighty superiors, unaware that those people don't need it at all.
And for Kreacher and indeed all House-elves, he could only comment… naturally born to be servants, once they kneel, they can't stand up, pure cattle and horse saints.
Just as Kayson was brainstorming, the quarrel between Sirius and Kreacher also came to an end, needing an outsider to help completely conclude this abstract argument…
So…
"Kayson, you be the judge!"
"I knew it…"
-------------------------------
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