A Certain Hogwarts Magician Professor

The next day, Sirius Black woke up from the bed, his head was drowsy, and it felt like Kreacher had knocked on his head half a night, and his headache was splitting.

"Although I know it's the result of abusing Apparition, I always suspect that it has something to do with Kreacher's incessant nagging!"

Sirius came to the dilapidated bathroom and washed in front of the mirror with a suspicious dark red mark. He tidied up his hair and shaved off the dirty beard. When he took a shower, the mirror in the bathroom said: "You look like a moving chop."

He drew the curtain angrily, and the bad memories of his early life here seemed to come back all at once.

Half an hour later, he rummaged through the moldy clothes from the old closet, and replaced the dirty old clothes that were tattered into wisps of cloth, and the whole person looked decent.

But he carefully dug out a tattered old piece of paper from his pocket, which looked crumpled after being soaked in water yesterday. He spreads it out, trying not to spoil the moving photo above: it's the award-winning photo of the Ron Weasleys, with a fat rat on Ron's shoulders.

He stared blankly at the photo for a second, then turned and left.

"Kreacher, help me prepare a breakfast." Sirius called out to the house. After thinking about it, he added: "Don't spit, don't deliberately make it unpalatable, and don't..." He said A string of conditions.

Kreacher bowed deeply, cursed in a low voice, and left.

Sirius took the time to go to the door again, and he looked around for a long time and found no suspicious figures, but saw a Muggle aunt who got up early to buy vegetables.

"Maybe he's gone." Sirius thought to himself, he closed the door, and the silver coiled snake door knocker slammed on the mottled black door with a thud. .

"It always feels like something is wrong..." he thought.

But he couldn't find anything out of the ordinary. He sniffed, but the air still had a damp, gray smell of corruption. Everything from the foyer to the corridor looked gloomy. Peeling wallpaper, frayed rugs, and magic chandeliers shimmering overhead.

Business as usual.

Even the portraits hanging crookedly on the walls are very quiet today, quiet...?

Sirius scrutinized the figures in the portrait, who seemed to be asleep, and he moved closer, standing in front of a portrait of what might have been an ancestor of the Black family with a glorious history, and tapped the outside border.

The aristocrat with long curly hair dragged to his waist leaned back on the chair, snoring slightly.

Suddenly, Sirius felt as if a piece of ice had been stuffed into his stomach. It was cold, and he kept twitching, and his forehead began to hurt. He suddenly became nervous, walked to a curtain with a few strides, and pulled it away suddenly.

Behind the curtain is a huge portrait of an old woman with a thin face and high cheekbones, which is a bit like Sirius at this time. Although he doesn't want to admit it, this is his mother.

Yesterday, the very active old woman who had been arguing with him for a long time slept soundly. She didn't jump up and yell at him for being a "dirty and sinful son of a bitch". Her saliva wet half of her clothes.

Sirius turned back to the room, with his wand in his hand, he felt a little calmer, "Maybe it was to scare himself." He started from the ground floor, searching room by room, and to prevent accidents, he called Kreacher back.

"If that man appeared yesterday, don't ask me, take me out of here immediately." Sirius warned the house elf.

Kreacher looked reluctant, and he muttered in a voice that Sirius could definitely hear: "After running away from home for more than ten years, the prodigal young master ordered old Kreacher. I heard that he also killed people..."

"Shut up!" Sirius growled.

"crunch-"

Sirius held the wand in one hand, the tip of the wand shone slightly, the spell was ready to go, the other hand turned the serpentine handle, the door opened, he waited for two seconds, and shrewdly glanced at it, there was no one inside.

Kreacher hunched his back, dragged his feet, and looked beside his legs, "There's nothing, the prodigal young master has been imprisoned for more than ten years, and even his spirit is not normal, oh, poor mistress, if she knows something underground, Don't know what to think. Poor old Kreacher..."

Sirius said angrily: "She's alright. I just had a fight with me yesterday. She slept soundly at night, and her saliva was drooling all over the place."

They went all the way up. The old wooden floor was in disrepair and had been eaten up by insects. When stepping on it, it made a creaking sound, and Sirius's heart couldn't help but lift.

"It's like going back to the war years." He muttered, but his eyes couldn't stop excitement.

His movements are more concise and efficient. Every time he opens the door, he checks the door handle to see if there are any signs of being used. After checking the dining room, storage room, and bedroom on the second floor, nothing has happened. He is in a tense mood. Relax a little.

Even when he bumped into an old ghoul in the toilet on the second floor, he was still in the mood to joke: "Your ugly face is not the worst I've ever seen, Azkaban is the concentration of demons and monsters, although I'm one myself..."

At the door of the study on the third floor, although Sirius was still cautious, he was no longer so vigilant in his heart, he pushed open the door and walked in. The study was empty and brighter, and he saw the old, bug-eyed bookshelves against the wall, rusted with silver and green trim.

Behind the heavy desk was a high-backed armchair. He remembered that when he was a child, his father liked to stay here the most, but every time he approached, he would be reprimanded.

"Whizzing!"

"What-"

The candle holder at the door suddenly moved, twisting and wrapping around Sirius' body. His hand holding the wand was bent to one side, and Sirius struggled hard, but the candle holder seemed to be a living person, and his fist was abruptly opened. Now, the wand fell to the ground and turned a few times.

Sirius’s chest rose and fell violently, panting heavily. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Kreacher being tied up, and the sound of pages turning pages came from behind the high-backed chair behind the desk.

He roared out a name angrily: "Felix Hepp."

The high-back chair was turned around, revealing the figure of Felix. He was holding a tome with a black cover in his hand. He carefully turned over a page that was as crisp as a thin biscuit, and said without looking up. : "Wait a minute - I see the key."

"Kreacher..." Sirius said in a low voice.

Kreacher only seemed to understand the situation. His figure was illusory for a moment, and he wanted to use movement magic, but he was imprisoned in the next second.

Sirius wanted to continue talking, but the sharp end of the silver candle holder approached his mouth, making a silent threat. He could only stare, as if he wanted to kill Felix with his eyes.

The study was quiet for ten minutes, and the whole room was only the sound of Sirius gasping for breath. Just when he felt his wrists being stretched unconscious, Felix closed the book "The Secrets of Advanced Black Magic" and sighed: "It's so evil...I don't even want to eat breakfast."

Sirius couldn't help but sarcastically said, "This is not like your... teacher, Snape loved these things to death when he was young."

"Who doesn't have a hobby yet?" Felix replied lightly.

Sirius was silent for a while, raised his head and stared at Felix, "How did you get in?"

Felix smiled and said, "I got a little help from the Black family."

"Impossible!" Sirius retorted: "Although I don't want to admit it, I am the only descendant of the Black family, and only I can come in."

Felix glanced at Kreacher.

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

"That's right!" Kreacher said proudly, "Old Kreacher has served the forever noble Black family for generations, generations!" Then he glanced at Sirius maliciously, "Not the current master, Nothing but blood, but poor Kreacher can't help..."

Sirius glared at him, strangling him.

Felix stood up and looked carefully at the wound on Sirius' forehead. "Potter's scar is on the right, yours is the opposite. Strange, coincidence?"

"you--"

Sirius stared, he didn't worry much about his safety now, he intuitively believed that Felix wouldn't kill him, but he also found that Felix was more hateful than Snape - his words more power.