Hogwarts: I'm Harry's older cousin

Chapter 352, Question 346: Why would the noble Malfoy associate with such shady characters?

"Look at the good-for-nothing son he raised! What kind of junk has he brought back?"

Heavy curses echoed along with the creaking of the old-fashioned floorboards.

"Are there other people in this house?" Ron asked, full of surprise.

Could it be Sirius's uncle or something?

Everyone turned to look at Harry.

"They are house-elves who serve the Black family."

Harry quickly explained, "His name is Kreacher."

As Harry's voice faded, the cursing outside the door stopped, and the study door was pushed open, revealing a small, thin figure about half a person's height.

It was a very old house-elf with pale, wrinkled skin, a bald head, large white hair growing from its two bat-like ears, bloodshot, gray eyes devoid of any spirit, a very large and sharp nose, almost like an awl, and a deep, hoarse voice like a bullfrog.

As everyone saw the house-pockets, the other party also saw them.

"Look! What has this spendthrift son brought back! And why is he in the old master's study!"

He emphasized again, his voice filled with disgust, but his eyes showed no reaction whatsoever: "A filthy, stinking Mudblood, a pureblood traitorous old scoundrel's wretched brat, and a cowardly grandson of a fierce old lady, and... oh my god, a noble Malfoy."

With that one mouth, no one except Draco looked happy; he basically cursed everyone present.

"Why would a noble Malfoy associate with this bunch of scoundrels? Has Malfoy fallen from grace?"

Draco: "."

How should I answer him? Should I tell him I haven't fallen into depravity?

Kreacher walked up to Dudley, looking at him with a puzzled expression and bewildered eyes: "What are you? Why can't Kreacher sense you?"

"Who I am doesn't matter. What matters is that Hermione smells nice and isn't dirty. Besides..."

Dudley slowly bent down, his large, bell-shaped eyes fixed on Kreacher until fear filled the latter's lifeless pupils, before he slowly spoke: "I don't want to hear the word 'Mudblood' a second time. If I hear it again in this house, no matter who says it..."

"I would tear the whole house down."

The advanced characteristics of the Magical Creature Taming technique gradually become apparent. It has a natural ability to suppress magical creatures weaker than itself, causing them to unconsciously submit to Dudley. Otherwise, why do you think Aragog listens to him so much? Strength is one aspect, but more importantly, it is this kind of temperament.

Perhaps one day he will become a Grand Druid or a Beastmaster.

"No, you can't!"

Kreacher screamed, not doubting Dudley's words at all.

"So you'd better not let that word appear in this house."

Dudley didn't give Kreacher a chance to speak and left with the others.

Not long after they left, Kreacher's curses echoed in the study, but the word "Mudblood" did not appear again.

He didn't care what this house-elf had been through, but he had to control his foul mouth.

"Harry, is he alright?" Ron pointed to Draco's head. "He looks a little off here."

Draco slapped his hand away impatiently and glared at him fiercely.

"Yes, Sirius said it was all because of his brother. His brother joined the Death Eaters when he was very young and was killed by them for some unknown reason. His mother became extremely mentally unstable due to excessive grief and died not long after."

"In addition, Sirius himself was imprisoned for more than ten years, and when he came back, Kreacher had become like this."

"But don't let Kreacher's appearance fool you, he's a very good cook."

If even the picky Harry says it's delicious, then the cooking skills must be really good.

"Generally speaking, when their owner is missing, house-elves will quietly take care of cleaning the entire house while waiting for their owner to return. This will continue until the moment they die."

As a member of the long-established Malfoy family, Draco educated others on common knowledge about house-elves: "It has nothing to do with whether they are mentally sound or not. It's something ingrained in their bones, part of the contract."

"But there are no signs that the house has been cleaned, unless someone instructed him to do so."

Before they knew it, the group had reached the staircase where Harry had said there was something bad, and Draco had even gone down halfway down.

He seemed to realize this himself, and decisively stopped, took out his wand, and quietly waited for the 'bad thing' to arrive.

However, everything was quiet, and nothing happened.

"It was just a false alarm." Draco breathed a slight sigh of relief. "Maybe it was just Sirius's prank."

I've never heard of anyone putting strange things in their home.

However, not long after he finished speaking, a woman's image suddenly appeared on the largest of the portraits on both sides of the stairs, which had turned black due to their age.

The moment he saw Draco, he unleashed a terrifying scream that sent chills down your spine, accompanied by a vicious curse in some unknown dialect (not a London accent).

This action also woke up the other portraits around, who then joined in the screaming.

The entire house was engulfed by screams and curses.

They'll know what "annoying things" are now.

"Shut up!"

Draco, who was closest to the portrait, felt like his head was about to explode. He raised his hand and cast a silencing spell at the portrait.

It had no effect; in fact, the sound became even louder.

"Everyone, cover your ears, or you might get hurt."

At the crucial moment, Dudley spoke up again, waving his wand at everyone.

"Hearing blocked!"

The sharp cry vanished instantly, and the whole world fell silent.

As everyone felt lighter, they also remembered to cover their ears as Dali had instructed.

Dudley took a deep breath and then shouted at the huge portrait, "Can you please give me a moment of peace?!"

Each word was uttered from his mouth, and the sound formed tangible ripples that spread in all directions.

Extremely penetrating.

The term "penetrating power" here is not an adjective, but a verb.

In an instant, all the glass in the corridor shattered, and shards of glass littered the floor.

However, this was far from over. Dali's last "ma" syllable was dragged out for a full minute.

His lung capacity has always been excellent.

Until the portraits hanging in the corridor could no longer bear it, the women in the portraits all rolled their eyes back and collapsed with a thud.

(End of this chapter)