Chapter 119 The Forty Inch Long Knife

This is an old residential area with a dull tone, full of overgrown weeds and mottled and peeling wall dust.

But the chaotic lights showed that there are still many people living here, and the dots of light and shadow are scattered in the darkness before dawn, which looks a bit depressing.

It wasn't until he got closer that Maca realized that most of the lights were street lights flickering brightly and darkly, as well as a small amount of light coming through the gaps in the curtains.

Looking around, indistinctly, there are chimneys and TV antennas everywhere.

????"just in front."

Blake pointed ahead as they passed a small square of overgrown weeds.

The houses here, no matter how big or small, 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 long-lost paint was peeling off the gates, and a great deal of rubbish had piled up on the front steps.

"You haven't been home for 12 years." Maca couldn't help saying.

But Blake shook his head. He said, "It's been longer than you think."

No. 12 Grimandi Street, an old house that has been destroyed by time. When Maca saw it, it was as dilapidated as the surrounding houses.

The windows were mostly broken, and the thick door had been overgrown with vines, and there was no keyhole or letterbox.

The silver carved doorknob was twisted and deformed, looking like a small snake fixed on a broken piece of wood.

Looking up, you can see that the corners are mostly occupied by spiders, trying to catch some delicious flying insects.

The entire area near the base of the wall was damp, covered with gray moss, as slippery as Blake's collar.

All right! In fact, Maca would recall that deadly touch when looking at everything at the moment.

Black reached out his wand and knocked on the door. A few dull, metallic clicks from either side were heard, followed by the sound of hinges.

The door broke free from the tangle of vines and creaked open.

"It's been too long without anyone, and some messy things must have settled in it... Don't just walk around." Blake said, "Follow me."

Maca followed Black into the dark hall, and suddenly, a sweet smell mixed with moisture hit his face—it was the smell of decaying wood.

The creaking sound of the floorboards broke the silence here.

Blake waved his wand casually, and with a soft hiss, the old-fashioned gas lamps on all the walls were lit up, casting a flickering, very unstable light on the broken wallpaper around them, and A dilapidated long strip of carpet was revealed.

Directly above the carpet, a cobwebbed tree-shaped decorative lamp flickered, and old, blackened portraits hung on the wooden walls of bulging and twisting.

To be honest, it's better not to see this decadent appearance.

Without a word, Blake led Maca through a pair of long, moth-infested door curtains, and around a huge umbrella stand that looked like it was made 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 coat of arms of the family.

The coat of arms is generally black, with a mountain shape as the main body and a sword as the foundation between the two stars, the whole body is made of silver, and there are two greyhounds leaping up on both sides.

And just below the imposing family coat of arms, a row of miniature head-shaped objects pasted on the wall as decoration is particularly obtrusive.

It was the head of the house-elf of the Black family. Whenever an elf was too old to hold a plate, they would chop off their heads and use them as decorations for the owner's house.

For a house-elf, this seems like an honor.

"... I heard that this is the idea that your family came up with first?" Maca said looking at the row of gadgets.

"Yes, my Aunt Eladora." Blake said with a sneer, and then he didn't want to talk any more. "This way."

Maca followed Black 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 did Kreacher see? Not the son of the mistress's son who came back from Azkaban... Oh! My poor mistress, what would she say if she saw this house now? A fugitive came back? She Been cursing him for not being his son, but he's back, and they say he's a murderer—"

It was an old house-elf, almost naked save for a string of filthy mice tied around his waist in a belt.

The floppy skin makes it look like it's wearing an oversized suit, and although it's bald and hairless like other house-elves, profuse white eyebrows protrude from above its huge, bat-like eyes. popped out.

Its eyes were bloodshot, wet and gray, and its flesh-coloured nose was as large as any other elf, or more properly - like a dead Flobber caterpillar.

The elf didn't seem to notice the existence of the two of them—it just humbly hunched over, head down, and stood stubbornly in front of the door.

Its murmurs were hoarse and deep in his breath, purring like a bullfrog.

"Kreacher?" A trace of surprise flashed in Blake's eyes, but then it turned into disgust, "Unexpectedly, everyone is dead, but you are still alive."

At this moment, old Kreacher raised his head slightly to look at Black, but he lowered his head again the next second.

Then, it bowed deeply, and its fat nose almost touched the ground.

Kreacher said vaguely: "How can Kreacher die? If Kreacher is dead, who else can continue to take care of this house of the mistress?"

"But it keeps getting dark in here, it's a filthy place!" said Sirius.

"Master always liked his little jokes," Kreacher bowed again, and continued in a low voice, "Master is a dirty, ungrateful pig who broke his mother's heart—"

"My mother has no heart, Kreacher," cried Sirius suddenly, "she allows herself to live outside of pure things."

When Black spoke, Kreacher bowed again, as if it had been a reflex.

"No matter what Master says," it grunted angrily, "Master is not worthy to polish his mother's boots, oh! My poor Mistress, what will she say if she sees Kreacher continue to serve him? She is so Hate the Master, what a disappointment he is—”

"I don't want to talk nonsense with you, get out of there!" Black shouted loudly.

Kreacher subconsciously took two steps to the side.

Black snorted coldly, and walked past it, but it still couldn't help muttering bad things in a low voice.

When Maca followed Black and was about to walk forward, Kreacher suddenly raised his voice a little—although it was still inconspicuous.

"Oh! Where did the kid come from... It was brought by the master, a dirty brat, he wants to enter the family's library... This is against the rules..."

"However, you haven't completed the task your young master left for you." Maca glanced at Kreacher and said calmly.

It was Maca's light words, but Kreacher suddenly raised his head, he stared closely at Maca's face, and opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something.

"... Come in quickly, don't talk nonsense with it, it won't listen to it." Black's voice came from the room.

Maca responded.

"I'll come back another day to deal with the locket, remember to open the door for me." He left a word for Kreacher in a low voice, and then walked in quickly.

"That's all - are they really going to help Harry?"

In the library filled with various bookshelves, Blake placed a thick stack of magic books on the wooden table, splashing a burst of dust.

The books and the wooden table were equally dirty, and Blake was in no mood to pay attention.

"Of course, at least I can be sure - Voldemort left Harry with a spiritual problem." Maca explained, "Professor Dumbledore said so."

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 wizarding families.

For example, the ones in front of Maca.

"Then pack them up and get out of here! I hate this house, then and now—"

...

Ron had become something of a celebrity at school lately, with even more attention paid to him now than to Harry.

This was the first time in Ron's life that he had been treated like this, and he obviously enjoyed the limelight.

Although he was still in shock from the events of that night, he would tell them excitedly, with exaggerated details, when asked.

"... I fell asleep, but I heard the sound of tearing things, and I thought I was dreaming, you know. But then there was a cool breeze... I woke up immediately, and then I found, One side of the curtain beside the bed was torn off... I turned over and saw him standing in front of me!"

"He's like a skeleton with a big mess of hair on top! He's got a big long knife, I think it must be 40 inches long..."

After a while, when he finished, the second-grade girls who had been listening to his macabre story dispersed talking among themselves.

"But why?" Ron suddenly turned to Harry and asked, "Why did he run away?"

To be honest, Harry was also puzzled by this.

Black went to the wrong bed, why didn't he kill Ron to silence him and continue looking for Harry?

Twelve years ago, Blake showed he didn't care about killing innocent people, and this time he faced five unarmed boys, four of whom were still asleep.

"Could it be that Maca's guess at the time was justified?" Harry suddenly had such a thought.

But Ron shook his head.

"I think he must know that if I wake everyone up, it will be very difficult for him to get out of the castle!" people! Maybe you might meet your teacher!"