Hogwarts' Golden Glory

A tear fell onto Sirius's hand.

Harry then noticed that his godfather was in tears, the tears leaving shallow streaks on his dirty face.

"Kreacher is back... but the locket can't be destroyed..." The old elf tugged at his ear in anguish. "Fire won't burn it... an axe can't split it... Kreacher is a useless piece of trash..."

"I thought..." Sirius's voice was hoarse beyond recognition, "I thought he was a coward... I thought he would only kneel and lick Voldemort's robes..."

His fingers suddenly gripped the fabric of his shirt, as if something there was burning.

"Merlin... he's much braver than me..."

The firelight from the fireplace danced on Sirius's face, illuminating the deep lines left by Azkaban.

Harry saw his godfather's lips tremble and his Adam's apple bob with difficulty, as if he were swallowing some unseen bitter medicine.

"The last time I saw him..."

Sirius suddenly spoke, his eyes unconsciously glancing at a photo of the other person when they were young.

"It was when my mother was scolding me for 'tainting the bloodline'... He was standing on the stairs watching... I thought that look was condemnation..."

He let out a broken laugh. "Looking back now... that was clearly envy..."

Kreacher huddled in the corner, large tears falling onto his wrinkled feet.

The old elf suddenly lunged forward, his withered fingers grabbing Sirius's trouser leg: "Young Master... Young Master Regulus said in his last words... that he hoped Young Master Sirius would be proud of him..."

This sentence is like the final blow.

Sirius Black arched his back suddenly and let out a howl that sounded almost like that of a wild beast.

Harry's hand hovered in mid-air before finally landing gently on his godfather's trembling shoulder.

He could feel the jagged bones beneath his palm.

"I want to bring his body back." After a long silence, Sirius suddenly said, his voice filled with steely resolve.

Kane Malfoy emerged from the shadows, offering a friendly reminder: "That place is dangerous."

"Yes, that must be a trap set by Voldemort," Harry quickly added.

"I don't care!"

Sirius slammed his fist into the floor, blood immediately seeping from his knuckles. "He...he lay in that icy water for fifteen years...by those monsters..."

Kane suddenly crouched down, looking directly into Sirius's bloodshot eyes: "You think Regulus wants this?"

His voice was soft, yet sharp as a knife: "An impulsive older brother willing to die for a belated apology?"

Sirius froze as if he had been slapped in the face.

"It's much harder to atone for sins while alive than to repent after death, Blake." Kane stood up. "Think about your newly adopted godson."

Harry's green eyes gleamed in the firelight.

Sirius's gaze lingered between them before he finally sighed and rested his forehead on Harry's shoulder.

The boy smelled the sea odor of Azkaban in his godfather's hair, mixed with the salty scent of tears.

"At least..." Sirius's voice muffled from inside Harry's robes, "...give him a monument...a real monument..."

"That's fine." Kane walked towards the door. "The Malfoy family has the best marble sculptors. Of course, we'll have to pay them."

"Then the most important thing now is to follow the terms of the contract." Kane's voice was devoid of any emotion.

"Number 12 Grimmauld Place and all its contents are now the property of the Malfoy family. Mr. Black, you have 24 hours to collect your personal belongings."

Sirius Black sneered and kicked the tattered backpack at his feet: "All my belongings are here."

"Of course, the right to use number 12 Grimoire Square can be retained, but a monthly rent of 200 Galleons will be required."

Sirius scoffed, tossing his tattered travel bag over his shoulder. "Save it, Malfoy. I'd rather sleep in the Leaky Cauldron's storeroom."

Harry stood uneasily between the two, his gaze shifting between his godfather's stubborn profile and Kane's calm expression.

"A wise choice." Kane nodded slightly. "After all, here..."

He glanced meaningfully at the portrait of Mrs. Blake on the wall, who was screaming wildly, and said, "It's not good for mental health."

Kreacher suddenly rushed forward, his withered fingers almost poking Sirius's nose: "That spendthrift young master is finally gone! The mistress will be so happy! So happy!"

His voice was shrill and grating, "Kreacher is finally free from serving that filthy pureblood traitor!"

Harry stared in shock at the venomous old elf, unable to believe that he had just been crying for Regulus.

Kane gently waved his wand, and Kreacher was immediately pulled back to his side by an invisible force: "Watch your words, Kreacher. No matter how despicable the former master was, the Malfoy elves must maintain their dignity."

This statement was even more embarrassing for the old elf than a direct rebuke.

Kreacher immediately began banging his head against the wall: "Bad Kreacher! Disgraceful Kreacher! You've been disrespectful to your esteemed new master!"

"That's enough." Sirius rubbed his temples wearily. "Harry, let's go."

As they stepped across the threshold, Mrs. Blake's portrait suddenly erupted with a piercing, shrill laugh: "Get out, you scoundrels! Never again defile the Blake family's threshold!"

Kane turned to face the portrait, a cold smile playing on his lips: "Quiet, madam. Otherwise, I wouldn't mind covering this wall with a permanent silencing spell."

The portrait immediately fell silent, and fear appeared in its cloudy eyes for the first time.

In the attic room on the top floor of the Leaky Cauldron bar, dust danced in the slanting rays of the setting sun.

Sirius tapped the moldy wall with his wand, and the cobwebs disappeared instantly, but the stains on the wallpaper remained stubborn.

"Much better than Azkaban."

He said casually, pushing the only relatively intact armchair to Harry, "At least there's a window here."

Harry looked around the cramped space: the sloping ceiling forced him to walk with a stoop, the springs of the single bed were deformed, and the bedside table was missing a leg and propped up with a few old magazines.

From the window, you can see the rooftops of Diagon Alley, the setting sun turning those ancient tiles golden.

"I'll go ask Tom for some food." Sirius ruffled Harry's hair.

"What would you like to eat? I guess it'll be better than the Dursleys'."

"Anything is fine," Harry whispered.

He watched his godfather's gaunt figure disappear into the narrow stairwell, and suddenly felt a lump in his throat.

This man had just come out of Azkaban, penniless, yet his first concern was whether the other man was hungry.

From downstairs came old Tom's surprised voice: "Merlin's Beard! Sirius Black? They really let you out?"

Harry quietly walked to the window.

The wizards of Diagon Alley are finishing up their busy day. A witch wearing a purple pointed hat is counting her goods in front of the joke shop, while a few young wizards are crowded in front of the ice cream shop.

This is the most ordinary daily life in the magical world, yet it is a scene that he and his godfather have missed for many years.