Hogwarts: Don't call me Wandmaker

Chapter 296 Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place
Grimmauld Place is located in the Kensington-Chelsea district of London, one of the city’s most vibrant areas, and is close to both the Underground and King’s Cross stations.

On the south side of the square stands a row of old townhouses, which look like they were built in the 19th century.

Although these villas now look old and outdated, if they were in the last century, only the very wealthy could afford them.

Hmm...that suits Blake's character perfectly.

Sirius clicked his tongue. He had heard Sirius mention it when they were chatting before: all the villas in Grimmauld Place belonged to the Black family.

In other words, they built a villa complex specifically to hide their old house from the Muggles.

And this is only a part of the Black family business.

Xilun smacked his lips, feeling a bit of sourness.

To be honest, these pure-blood families are really rich. No wonder Sirius Black bought Harry a Firebolt as a gift without batting an eye.

With this feeling in mind, Xilun walked to the front of the villas.

Each house has a corresponding number in front of it, from number one to number eleven, in an orderly fashion.

However, the number next to number 11 is not number 12, but number 13. It seems that the staff member in charge of the house numbers was negligent and accidentally wrote the wrong number.

Fortunately, the only mistake was the house number, so it didn't affect anything. Over the years, the people living here have long since gotten used to the fact that there is no number twelve.

Xiren continued walking, arriving between numbers eleven and thirteen. He silently recalled the parchment he had seen earlier, and its contents…

Just as I was thinking of number twelve Grimmauld Place, a magical scene unfolded.

It looked as if something had squeezed out from between number 11 and number 13, like... someone watching a Quidditch match had forcefully pushed the two people in front of them aside in order to get a front-row seat.

But what's crowded here are doors... A dilapidated door suddenly appeared out of nowhere, followed by dirty walls and gloomy windows.

What's even stranger is that despite all this commotion, the Muggles living on either side seemed completely oblivious. Music was still playing in room number 11, and the television in room number 13 never stopped.

Xilun stepped forward, grasped the faded and peeling doorknob, and twisted it hard.

With a creak, the door opened.

Xiren stepped across the threshold and found himself standing at the end of a dimly lit corridor.

To be honest, this doesn't look like the place where a wealthy wizard would live.

Most of the wallpaper on both sides had peeled off, the floor was rotten, and it creaked when you stepped on it. The chandelier was covered with cobwebs, and everything, including the windows, was covered with a thick layer of dust.

In this gloomy environment, the sunlight streaming in from outside seemed rather out of place.

Xilun closed the door, plunging the room into darkness once more.

Fortunately, the lights in the room were still working, although they weren't very bright, but at least we could see things.

But then, a small figure suddenly appeared at the end of the corridor, accompanied by a high-pitched, piercing scream...

"Intruder!"

It was a hoarse voice, and an elderly house-elf glared angrily at Siron, extending a finger as if to teach this audacious thief a lesson!
Fortunately, Xilun was prepared.

“Stop, Kreacher,” he said quickly. “Sirius Black invited me.” His words seemed to have some kind of magic; the house-elf Kreacher’s arm abruptly stopped in mid-air.

Although his expression suggested he desperately wanted to cast a spell on the thief in front of him, his arm wouldn't obey him and remained frozen in place.

Siren watched all this in astonishment. Judging from Kreacher's expression, he must have known that what he had just said was true. Because it stopped its arm movement entirely out of instinct, not out of Kreacher's own intention.

Could it be that Sirius Black wrote down the exact address of this place himself, which is why it was relayed to Kreacher through the Charm of Loyalty?
Can the Mantra of Unwavering Loyalty achieve this?

If not, how can Kreacher's behavior be explained?
“Ah, Black… young master.” Kreacher’s voice interrupted Siren’s thoughts.

Looking up again, he saw the house-elf's face contorted with disgust, as if he had seen something filthy. "You spendthrift... a fool of unknown origin invited by the young master to defile the mistress's house."

It sounds really strange... Despite Kreacher's deep hatred for Sirius Black, he still had to use the most respectful title when referring to him.

“You’d better be polite to me, Kreacher,” Siron said curtly.

But in response, he was met with a low curse from the house-elf.

For some reason, it couldn't kick Siron out of the house, so it could only express its attitude in this way.

Although he had expected this, Siron was still amazed; it was the first time he had ever seen such low-class house-elves.

"Regulus Black..." Unable to bear it any longer, Xiren had no intention of continuing the conversation and spoke again:

"I can help you complete the task he entrusted to you last."

In an instant, it was as if someone had forcefully grabbed Kreacher by the neck, and its incessant cursing came to an abrupt halt.

The old house was eerily quiet, with only the rustling of insects crawling around.

However, the house-elf Kreacher showed no joy on his face, only terror.

"How...how do you know Young Master Regulus!" it screamed, veins bulging on its arms and its breathing becoming rapid.

Its appearance prompted Celen to instinctively take out his wand.

“How would I know Regulus… that’s complicated to explain, just think of me as a prophet,” Siren continued. “Not only do I know Regulus, I also know that he once made you destroy a locket.”

Kreacher's mouth was agape, and his tennis ball-sized eyes quickly became bloodshot and turned completely red.

"But you failed to do so; you betrayed his trust."

"It's Kreacher's fault!" The house-elf suddenly burst into tears, his body involuntarily kneeling on the ground, large tears falling from his cloudy eyes.

“Kreacher tried every method he could think of… but he couldn’t destroy the locket… Kreacher failed to fulfill Master Regulus’s orders… Kreacher is an incompetent house-elf…”

Like most house-elves, Kreacher, feeling guilty for his failure, began to punish himself instinctively by banging his head against the table next to him.

The heavy solid wood table creaked and groaned, a sound that seemed to ache.

“Calm down, Kreacher…” Siren said softly, “I can help you destroy it.”

……

(End of this chapter)