The next day, Sirius Black woke up from his bed. His head was dizzy, as if Kreacher had been hitting him on the head for half a night. His head hurt so much that it was about to split.

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

Sirius came to the shabby bathroom and washed in front of the mirror with suspicious dark red marks. He tidied his hair and shaved off the dirty stubble. When he was taking a shower, the mirror in the bathroom said, "You look like a moving rib."

He pulled the curtain angrily, and the bad memories of living here in his early years seemed to come back all of a sudden.

Half an hour later, he dug out the moldy clothes from the old wardrobe and changed the dirty, tattered old clothes. He looked presentable.

But he carefully took out a tattered old piece of paper from his pocket. It looked wrinkled after being soaked in water yesterday. He tried hard to spread it out, trying not to damage the moving photo on it: it was a photo of Ron Weasley's family winning the grand prize, with a fat rat standing on Ron's shoulder.

He stared at the photo expressionlessly for a few seconds, then turned and left.

"Kreacher, prepare a breakfast for me." Sirius shouted outside the house, thinking for a moment, and then added, "No spitting, no deliberately making it unpalatable, and no..." He said a series of conditions.

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

Sirius took the time to go outside the door again, looking for a long time but didn't find any suspicious figures, but saw a Muggle lady who got up early to buy vegetables.

"Maybe he's gone." Sirius thought to himself, he closed the door, and the silver snake door knocker "banged" on the mottled black door. His heart skipped a beat, and he was quiet for a few seconds, and nothing happened.

"I always feel something is wrong..." he thought.

But he couldn't find anything unusual. He sniffed and found that the air was still filled with a damp, gray and decayed smell. Everything from the entrance hall to the corridor seemed eerie. His eyes wandered around the peeling wallpaper, the frayed and dusty carpet, and the magic chandelier emitting a faint light above his head.

Everything was normal.

Even the portraits hanging crookedly on the wall were very quiet today. Quiet...?

Sirius carefully examined the people in the portraits. They looked like they were asleep. He moved closer and stood in front of a portrait that might be an ancestor of the Black family with a glorious history. He knocked on the outer frame.

The nobleman with long curly hair that reached his waist leaned back in his chair and snored slightly.

Suddenly, Sirius felt as if a piece of ice was stuffed into his stomach. It was cold and twitching constantly. His forehead began to hurt. He suddenly moved nervously, walked to a curtain with a few big steps, and pulled it open suddenly.

Behind the curtain was a huge portrait of an old woman with a thin face and high cheekbones. She looked a bit like Sirius at this moment. Although he didn't want to admit it, this was his mother.

The old woman who had quarreled with him for a long time yesterday and was very active was sleeping soundly. She didn't suddenly jump up and scold him as a "dirty and sinful son". Her saliva wet half of her clothes.

Sirius returned to the room with his wand in hand. He felt a little relieved. "Maybe he scared himself." He started from the ground floor and searched room by room. In order to prevent accidents, he called Kreacher back.

"If the man from yesterday appears, don't ask me, take me away from here immediately." Sirius warned the house elf.

Kreacher looked reluctant. He muttered in a voice that Sirius could definitely hear: "After running away from home for more than ten years, the prodigal son is now ordering old Kreacher. I heard that he even killed someone..."

"Shut up!" Sirius growled.

"Crack—"

Sirius held the wand in one hand, the tip of the wand glowing slightly, the spell ready to go, and turned the snake-like handle with the other hand, the door opened, he waited for two seconds, and looked inside quickly, there was no one.

Kreacher hunched his back, dragged his feet, and looked around his legs, "Nothing, the prodigal son has been locked up for more than ten years, even his mind is not normal, oh, poor mistress, if she knew about it, I don't know what she would think. Poor old Kreacher..."

Sirius said unhappily, "She's fine, just had a quarrel with me yesterday, and slept soundly at night, drooling all over the floor."

They walked up the stairs, the old wooden floor had been in disrepair for a long time, and had been eaten away by insects, and it made a squeaking sound when stepped on, and Sirius' heart couldn't help but rise.

"It's like going back to the war years." He muttered, but his eyes were full of excitement.

His movements became more concise and efficient. Every time he opened a door, he would check the door handle to see if there were any signs of use. After checking the dining room, storage room, and second-floor bedroom, he found nothing wrong and his tense mood relaxed a little.

Even when he ran into an old ghoul in the second-floor bathroom, he was still in the mood to joke: "Your ugly face is not the worst I've ever seen. Azkaban is the gathering place for demons and monsters, although I am one of them..."

At the door of the study on the third floor, although Sirius's movements were still cautious, he was no longer so vigilant in his heart. He pushed the door open and walked in. The study was empty and the light was brighter. He saw the old, worm-hole-ridden bookshelf against the wall, with silver and green decorations rusting.

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 scolded.

"Swoosh!"

"What the hell?"

The candle holder at the door suddenly moved, twisting and wrapping around Sirius. His hand holding the wand was bent to one side. Sirius struggled hard, but the candle holder was like a living person, forcibly breaking his fist apart. The wand fell to the ground and turned a few times without moving. Sirius' chest rose

and fell violently, and he gasped. In his peripheral vision, he saw Kreacher was also tied up. The sound of pages turning came from behind the high-backed chair behind the desk.

He shouted a name in great anger: "Felix Hep."

The high-backed chair turned around, revealing Felix's figure. He was holding a black-covered book in his hand, and carefully turned over a page that was as crisp as a biscuit. Without raising his head, he said: "Wait a minute - I see the key point."

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

Kreacher seemed to have just figured out the situation. His figure was illusory for a moment, and he wanted to use the movement magic, but he was imprisoned the next second.

Sirius wanted to continue speaking, but the sharp end of the silver candle holder moved closer to his mouth, silently threatening him. He could only stare, as if he wanted to kill Felix with his eyes.

The study was quiet for ten minutes, with only the sound of Sirius's panting in the room. Just when he felt his wrist being strangled to the point of losing consciousness, Felix closed the book "Advanced Dark Magic Revealed" and sighed, "It's so evil... I don't even want to eat breakfast."

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

"Who doesn't have a hobby?" Felix answered evasively.

Sirius was silent for a moment, 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. Only I can come in."

Felix glanced at Kreacher.

"He... he is different..."

"That's right!" Kreacher said proudly, "Old Kreacher has served the eternally noble Black family for generations, generations!" Then he glanced at Sirius with malice, "Not counting the current master, who has nothing but blood, but poor Kreacher has no choice..."

Sirius glared at him and wanted to strangle him to death.

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

"You--"

Sirius stared, he was not so worried about his safety now, he intuitively believed that Felix would not kill him, but he also found that Felix was more hateful than Snape-his words were more powerful.