Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 358 Regulus
"Muggle-made clothes, Muggle-made boots, what a disgrace, Mudblood..."

"He smells like a sewer and a criminal, his blood is dirty and his character is low. It is an insult to my mistress's house to have such a wizard as a guest."

"Poor old Kreacher, what can he do?"

The aging house-elf spoke in a weak yet venomous voice, his words echoing clearly in the empty house and reaching Melvin and Sirius's ears.

Sirius's expression immediately changed, and he roared in a deep voice, "This is my guest! Kreacher, what exactly do you want?"

In fact, Melvin didn't care about the insults. He looked at Kreacher with interest. This was the second old house-elf he had seen. The first one was Skritchi from the Lestrange family.

He never cared about the attitudes of these old fogies; the respect of the wretches was insignificant as long as he could get what he wanted from them.

"The guests you invited..."

Kreacher bowed deeply to Sirius, his body lowered so much that his head almost touched the ground, his large nose drooping, but that didn't stop his lips from muttering even faster:
"Oh, my poor mistress, if she could know from beyond the grave, if she knew that her good-for-nothing son had brought such scum into her home, what would she say to old Kreacher?"

"Shut up! That's an order!" Sirius said coldly.

“Kreacher obeys orders and will serve the noble Black family for life.”

Kreacher seemed unwilling to disobey the direct order, ceasing his cursing, but his lips continued to move, and he kept muttering to himself, his eyes fixed on Melvin: "Kreacher should clean the house and get rid of the unclean things..."

Sirius laughed angrily: "Yes, all that rubbish should be thrown out. The portrait behind that velvet curtain, the family tree tapestries covering the walls, do you know what else there is? The old, useless elves should get out too. For the past ten years or so, because of your laziness, this house has become darker and darker every day. It's too filthy!"

"Young Master always likes to make little jokes."

Kreacher remained unmoved by the insults directed at him, looking at the velvet curtains behind him with genuine respect in his eyes: "Young Master is a despicable, ungrateful scoundrel who broke his mother's heart."

“My mother has no heart, Kreacher,” Sirius scoffed. “She lives entirely on resentment.”

"No matter what the young master says, if the Black family had other heirs, it wouldn't be his turn to inherit this place."

Kreacher bowed again when he mentioned the heir, seemingly very resentful, and muttered, "Compared to Master Regulus, compared to the Master's mother, the Master is completely unqualified, not even worthy of wiping their shoes."

Mentioning these two men, the old elf seemed overcome with grief and suddenly let out a few sobs: "Oh, my poor mistress, what would she say if she saw Kreacher serving the young master? How much she hates him! How disappointing he is!"

The piercing sobs were particularly jarring, and Sirius's expression changed. He suddenly turned to look at the velvet curtains behind him.

Then an even more piercing scream rang out, the sound waves causing the air and walls to tremble, making ears ring. The old witch's hoarse voice sounded like a howling banshee, sending chills down one's spine.

Suddenly, the velvet curtain riddled with wormholes was lifted, revealing a startled portrait behind it. The frame resembled a window, behind which stood an old witch in a black hat, screaming at the top of her lungs, her wailing echoing for a long time, deafeningly loud.

The corridors of Hogwarts are filled with many magical portraits, and the headmaster's office also contains portraits of past headmasters, but none of these magical portraits have ever given one such strong sense of unease.

The old witch's face was sallow, her wrinkles taut from screaming, revealing the clear lines of her muscles. She flailed her claw-like hands wildly, making one worry that she might tear her face off at any moment. Her eyes darted around, as if they might pop out at any instant.

"You beast! You slut! You filthy and sinful bastard!"

"Mudblood! Freak! Get out of here right now!"

Sirius immediately rushed over, gripped the two curtains tightly, and tried to pull them up as he was anxious.

"The mistress is awake! She's scolding the young master!" Kreacher, seeing this from the stair landing, also began to shout at the top of his lungs, "Poor mistress, how heartbroken she would be if she were still alive!"

The master and servant sang in unison, their piercing screams rising and falling. Melvin felt as if he had returned to the opera house, where opera singers would also scream like that when they opened their mouths, but back then it was a melodious chant, while here it was a wailing of ghosts.

Sirius kept apologizing, tugging at the curtains as his face turned bright red.

But this was clearly not a one-person job. The two curtains were imbued with magic, connecting to the portrait. If the old witch in the painting was unwilling, it would be difficult for him to disobey his mother on his own.

"Quiet……"

Sirius saw Melvin's lips move, emitting a barely perceptible sound, yet this sound seemed to be a curse, drowning out the portrait and the servants' shrill howls.

The room suddenly fell silent. The candlelight flickered slightly, casting a soft glow on the portrait and the old elf. Sirius loosened the curtains that were not yet closed and discovered that there seemed to be a bubble covering the portrait, shimmering with iridescent light like a soap bubble.

Looking back, Kreacher's head was also covered in a ring of soap bubbles.

No matter how much the old witch and Kreacher in the portrait screamed and yelled, the thin, transparent bubble only trembled slightly, without letting out any unpleasant sounds.

Meeting Sirius's slightly bewildered gaze, Melvin smiled slightly: "The Bubble Head Curse is a little trick that can lock sound inside, turning it into a one-way soundproof enclosure. It was originally developed for reading in taverns, but it works very well in other noisy environments as well."

"They can hear us, but we can't hear them?" Sirius quickly understood the effect of the spell.

"Please forgive my offense."

"This is a huge help, Professor!" Sirius breathed a sigh of relief. "You must teach me, I'd be willing to empty the entire Black family treasury to pay for the tuition!"

"Free instruction, no extra charges."

"..."

Kreacher waved his hands on the landing, and the soap bubbles above his head vibrated more frequently, revealing the servant's excitement.

Sirius didn't care what was said in detail. He waved at his mother's portrait, ignoring her hysterical expression, and returned to the guest: "Melvin, you mentioned wanting some of the Black family's treasured items. It seems you have a specific target. Tell me, what do you want?" Melvin glanced at Kreacher, who was still waving his hand. The old elf had a狰狞 (zhengning, meaning ferocious or hideous) face that looked like he might have a stroke at any moment and die of anger in the old house. He shook his head.

"I heard the Black family has a family tree tapestry. Can you take me to see it?"

"What do you need that thing for?"

Sirius was surprised, but he didn't refuse and led Melvin to another wall.

Kreacher followed behind, his frail and aged body dragging along. His gaze toward Sirius and Melvin was filled with a deep-seated hatred, as if he wished he could skin them alive, throw one into the fireplace to burn to ashes, and cut off the other's head and hang it on the wall.

Melvin saw the family heirloom tapestry.

It's clearly an antique with a long history. The color has faded and mottled, and there are holes of various sizes caused by insects and bites from foxes. However, the gold threads that have emerged from the holes are still shining brightly, so it is obviously not brass, but genuine gold.

A surge of bloodline magic lingered above, its branches and vines embroidering a tree-like family tree that could be traced back to the Middle Ages seven hundred years ago.

"The ancient and noble Black family, forever pure."

At the top of the list are names with distinctly exotic flair, such as "Ursula," "Eldora," and "Isla." Like the Malfoy family, the Black family followed in the footsteps of Caesar the Conqueror and settled in this land.

Interspersed among them is the name of the old headmaster, "Phineas," while familiar names like "Narcissa" and "Bellatrix" are in the second-to-last row, connected to "Lucius Malfoy" and "Rodolphus Lestrange," respectively. Draco, as his heir, is printed in the last row of the tapestry.

"I was once up there too. The name 'Sirius' has been passed down to me for three generations."

Sirius pointed to a small, charred hole on the tapestry, like a cigarette burn mark: "After I ran away from home when I was sixteen, my dear old mother destroyed me. Kreacher loved to whisper this story."

His eyes revealed a look of melancholy and reminiscence. As long as Melvin spoke, he could recount his tumultuous past without reservation.

But Melvin was more interested in his younger cousin beside the small black hole: "Tell me about 'Regrus'."

Sirius stared at him in astonishment, and remained silent for a moment: "Regulus is younger than me, a weak-willed fool. He believes whatever his parents say, that stupid pure-blood supremacy ideology, and the idea that Black is born noble. Because of this, people keep reminding me that as the son of the Black family, he is much better than me."

"After entering Hogwarts, he was sorted into Slytherin as he wished."

Sirius looked at the name, recalling his brother's face, his eyes filled with complex emotions: "He wasn't an evil, dark wizard, but a stupid idiot who, under the influence of his friends and classmates, joined the Death Eaters. At that time, many pure-bloods believed that Voldemort's ideas were correct. They all agreed to maintain the purity of wizarding bloodlines, get rid of Muggle-born people, suppress half-bloods, and let pure-blood wizards take control of power."

Melvin listened quietly to his story, while Kreacher stood beside him, opening his mouth to shout several times, but no sound came out.

"But when Voldemort stopped concealing his actions and revealed his true face and fangs, they all became timid and retreated. Regulus was killed by Voldemort at that time, or perhaps Voldemort ordered others to kill him. He was not worth the Dark Lord's personal attention."

Sirius chuckled, his laughter tinged with sorrow.

To him, Regulus wasn't as hateful as his parents; he was simply unable to escape Black's cage, possessing a naivety tinged with foolishness, and a kindness that Death Eaters couldn't accept.
"From what I learned after his death, he was already too deeply involved in the remorse when he was in it, and he was terrified of what the Death Eaters had done. He often tried to evade and quit, but this was not a job where you could come and go as you pleased. You couldn't just hand in a resignation letter to Voldemort and be done with it."

"Either risk your life for it, or face certain death."

Tears welled in Kreacher's sunken eyes, streaming down his cheeks and falling unimpeded onto the carpet. He seemed to see a glimmer of hope, frantically patting soap bubbles in an attempt to break the barrier, but the seemingly delicate bubbles proved remarkably resilient, and no matter how much he squeezed and tore at them, it was all in vain.

Sirius noticed his unusual behavior, frowned, and didn't want to talk to him.

“Perhaps we should listen to what this loyal servant has to say,” Melvin suggested.

“A very unwise suggestion.” Sirius thought Kreacher was about to say something to defend Regulus and condemn him, “But you’re a guest, so don’t regret it later.”

Melvin reached out to count, and the bubble quietly burst.

Kreacher gasped for breath, his shrunken chest heaving violently. He opened his mouth, then suddenly remembered something and quickly closed it again. Tears streamed down his nose and into his open mouth, revealing a set of grayish teeth.

"You were going crazy when I told you not to talk, but now that I'm letting you talk, you're making this ugly scene. What are you trying to do?!" Sirius was a little annoyed.

"Kreacher can't say, Kreacher can't say..." Kreacher covered his face, tears streaming down his face from his sunken eyes.

"Do you want Regulus to die an unexplained death, his body forever buried in a gutter, unknown to anyone?"

Melvin's calm question abruptly stopped the sobbing. He walked over and examined the house-elf. Despite being of the same species as Dobby, its behavior was nauseating.

"If you had left the Black family to pursue a free life, I might have thought more highly of you. But you've stayed here, neither cleaning nor cooking, letting this old house fall into its current state. You finally waited for Sirius to be exonerated and return, but you outwardly obey the current owner's orders while inwardly defying him, trying to impose your own will on him. Do you even consider yourself Black's successor?"

"No, that's not how it is!"

Kreacher stopped crying and, with his neck stiff, roared, "Kreacher is loyal to Black, but the young master..."

"If you don't respect Sirius because he was expelled from the family, what about his former master, Regulus?" Melvin spoke slowly, staring into his eyes. "You forgot Regulus's dying wish. You hid the truth from Sirius. You knew who you should ask for help, but you were unwilling to do so."

Kreacher's conviction was shattered by a few words. He covered his head and shook it repeatedly, his thin body swaying precariously, tears seeping through his fingers.

Sirius was confused, but he keenly realized that Regulus's death was not so simple:
"Kreacher, speak! I need to know the whole truth, that's an order!"

Kreacher let out a sob, his voice low and muffled when he spoke that day: "That was a year after young Master Regulus joined the Dark Lord's organization, when he was seventeen..."

(End of this chapter)