I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 205 How did the magical world become like this?

"retribution!!!"

Irving spat at him.

Stop talking nonsense!

It's like a piece of chewing gum stuck to someone. Seriously, didn't you see Harry's face turned black?

If Hermione hadn't stopped him from doing it, Owen would have cut off that talkative tongue long ago and stuffed it in his throat.

"."

Seeing Owen's reaction, Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes as she followed behind.

How dare you call someone a chatterbox?

You couldn't stand him after he'd only been talking for a dozen minutes.

What about the fact that you used to talk for hours on end?

We need to let you experience firsthand the pain we went through.

Hermione thought viciously.

She just felt that the journey was too short and the ticket seller hadn't said enough.

— Irving jumped out of the car.

Before us lies a small square.

The houses surrounding the square had dirty exteriors and didn't seem to welcome visitors.

Some houses had broken windows and looked lifeless, with paint peeling off many doors and piles of garbage on the front steps.

"Yeah, just like I imagined, exactly the same place where classic villains from fairy tales like dark wizards and old witches live!" Owen said sarcastically.

This place—humph, he wouldn't even take it for free.

It's hard to find tenants.

Look at those walls. If this house belonged to him, how much money would he have to spend to renovate it?

Moreover, this place is not close to the city center, so who would choose to live here?

Apart from wizards—but wizards who are willing to pay to rent houses are all notoriously poor.

He's already renting a place, so how much more can you squeeze out of him?

Irving silently critiqued the situation in his mind.

In an instant, they came to the conclusion that this dilapidated place was worthless.

Just as he continued to ponder the Muggle value of this place, a commotion arose behind him.

Irving thought Sirius was refuting him.

But when he turned around, he saw a pale, thin man with long hair on the Knight Bus. He couldn't see his face clearly, but he could see a pair of terrified eyes. He raised his wand and pointed it at Sirius, who was about to get off the bus.

"It's Black! That Death Eater!" he cried out in terror.

The sound seemed to come from the horizon.

Sometimes near, sometimes far.

His duck-like voice echoed everywhere.

"Wait." Sampak struggled to prop his head up from the ground.

The wizard who had thrown the object at him had hit his head on the metal pillar of the car and passed out. Now he was pressing heavily on top of him.

"The Death Eater is here. He's right in front of me, what am I going to do? What am I going to do!" The guy was currently not quite in his right mind, probably still recovering from the impact of the car.

"He's going to kill someone, he's going to kill me, he's going to kill me."

The man wailed, but his hand moved rapidly with his wand, and he uttered the familiar incantation, "Avatar—"

"Stop, you idiot, he's innocent!" Sampak stared wide-eyed at the growing aura of death before him, filled with despair.

"Sirius, watch out!" Harry's hair stood on end, and his eyes widened in shock.

Then he pulled out his wand and pounced on Sirius, who had already gotten off the bus.

"Eliminate your weapon~"

Fortunately, Hermione kept an eye on the passengers in the car.

She was worried that the wizards had damaged their heads.

But when she saw the delirious wizard trying to kill Sirius, she reacted quickly, and before the idiot could finish his spell, her disarming spell had already struck him.

With a "bang," the wizard's wand flew under the bed like a kite with a broken string.

The powerful curse also affected him.

He was almost knocked unconscious.

Meanwhile, Ron rushed forward and kicked the man squarely in the head, sending him sprawling under the bed.

"Oh my God! Oh my God!" Sampak looked at everyone in shock.

He was amazed by the young wizards' formidable dueling skills.

What surprised me even more was that old man Raymond would actually use the Killing Curse on an innocent person in the street.

"Don't--"

Seeing that the young wizards were still holding their wands, they looked at the male wizard under the bed with hostile eyes.

Sampak quickly called out.

Then they finally climbed out from under that Mount Tai.

He stood up unsteadily and addressed the crowd, "This is old Raymond. He is an employee of the Department of Magical Creatures Protection in the Ministry of Magic. His office has been asked by the Minister of Magic to assist the Aurors in hunting down Death Eaters."

He stepped forward and stopped Ron, who wanted to find the old man and continue beating him.

"Redhead, you're from the Weasley family, aren't you!"

He recognized Ron.

"Arthur Weasley's department has also been called up."

"This guy has never done Auror training before. He hasn't slept for days, and he's on edge."

"So what? He was just trying to kill Sirius!" Ron roared.

"He doesn't know!" Sampak took out the newspaper from his pocket. "Look, there's only so little coverage of Black. He's been touted as a Death Eater for half a year, and now the newspapers are all about Harry Potter. Black's place is so small, and old Raymond doesn't have time to read the newspapers."

Sampak explained anxiously, "That's how the magical world is now; everyone is living in fear."

"Take the child for Arthur's sake; he's family!"

"That's my dad!"

"Yes!" Sampak pulled Ron away. "Then you should be able to understand. I heard that Mr. Arthur was so exhausted that he fainted while chasing the Death Eaters."

"What?" Ron was taken aback. His mother had never told him about this.

"Don't worry, he just fell asleep leaning against the wall because he was tired."

"As a ticket seller for Knight Motorbike, I've heard it all before." Sampak turned his head to look at the old customer on the ground.

Not every household is connected to the flyway network.

Some wizards, due to the structure of their houses—most of whom are Muggle-born or live in houses built by Muggles—commute to get off work every day by knight bus.

Sampak knew his passengers.

Old Raymond is a good man, though he's at least a bit senile.

—At this moment, Sirius had already gotten back into the car.

He comforted Harry.

Everything happened so suddenly. In a normal battle, he would have been able to react, but he couldn't just now.

He didn't speak, but stared coldly at the man who crawled out from under the bed, his body curled up, his hands gripping the wand he had just picked up from the ground, pressed against his chest, his eyes filled with terror as he looked at him.

Only then did he get a clear look at the person's face.

A face etched with fear and exhaustion, greasiness and loneliness.

"Let's go~" He put away his wand and then shooed Hermione and Ron out of the car.

Finally, after a long, deep gaze, I got out of the car again.

Blake led the three of them along the deserted, pungent-smelling street for a while, then stopped in front of a house with a sign that read 12 Grimmauld Place.

He remained silent.

But the little wizards behind them became very active.

"We should have given that guy a good beating just now, to teach him a lesson!" Ron said sullenly, his eyes glancing at Owen almost imperceptibly.

His expression was quite strange.

He looked very angry, but there was no anger in his eyes, only worry.

"Forget it!" Sirius said. "At least he gave me some inspiration."

He said dejectedly.

The reason for everything that just happened is simply the inevitable result of Barty Crouch's access to the Unforgivable Restriction Act.

In fact, he largely agreed with Crouch's views.

He knows better than anyone how serious the difficulties Britain is currently facing.

The Aurors simply do not have the capacity to guarantee the safety of everyone.

In Britain, wizards must fight for themselves.

Obviously, Dumbledore disagreed with this view, but Sirius believed that lifting the restrictions on the Unforgivable Curse would give dark wizards a strong deterrent.

Even if ordinary wizards can't defeat dark wizards, they can still intimidate them and make them think twice.

but now

Everything that just happened proves that Dumbledore was right.

The lifting of the law did not bring stability to this society, but rather exacerbated its chaos.

"How can we just let this go? At the very least, we should write a complaint to the Ministry of Magic, complaining that their employees are killing innocent people indiscriminately. My dad—"

Ron was speechless for a moment. After a pause, he continued, "He won't make a mistake."

He should write a letter to his mother.

Or go home and see your dad.

Maybe we can get some potions or something from Owen. Doesn't he make a lot of energy drinks?

Thinking to himself, Ron admitted that his act of revenge just now was actually to save that guy.

Because he was genuinely afraid that Irving would just charge in and finish the guy off with a Killing Curse.

He knew that old Raymond, Bernard Raymond.

His father had one of the few friends in the Ministry of Magic.

I've visited their home before.

He's changed so much. I remember he used to have short hair, but now he has long hair that's all dirty and covers his face, which is why I didn't recognize him at first.

Ron, filled with apprehension, couldn't help but glance at Owen again.

"What are you looking at!" Irving retorted, amused. "You think just anyone can cast the Killing Curse?"

"Please, for someone like him, it would be an extraordinary performance if Sirius Black even got a nosebleed."

However...

"You certainly know how to talk, Ronald. You've just brushed aside a crime deserving Azkaban with a mere complaint letter?"

He looked at Ron with a half-smile.

Ron looked at him with an embarrassed expression.

"Hmph~ Boring."

Unlike any other ordinary residences in the area, 12 Grimmauld Place is very grand and noble, but it is also dilapidated and looks like a haunted house.

The black paint on the house was tattered and covered in scratches, the silver doorknob was twisted into a snake shape, and there was neither a keyhole nor a mailbox on the door.

Sirius Black pulled out his wand in a low voice and knocked on the door. He wasn't in a good mood. Just like Owen had said, he didn't think that cowardly-looking guy could use the Killing Curse.

If anyone could cast the Killing Curse so easily, then this most evil black magic would be far too cheap!

To cast a killing spell, one needs not only powerful magic as a foundation for casting the spell, but also a heart filled with intense killing intent.

Just now, he didn't sense any killing intent from that old man.

He only felt fear.

But that didn't make him happy.

Because it can force a kind person to utter that evil spell—what is wrong with this world?

Following behind Sirius, Owen heard a loud, metallic click from the door, sounding like the sound of a metal chain.

A few seconds later, the door creaked open.

"Alright, go in now!" Sirius took a deep breath and whispered, "Don't go too deep, and remember, don't touch anything."

Harry and Hermione walked into the almost completely dark hall with worried expressions, and were greeted by the smell of mold and thick dust.

This place feels like an abandoned building.

The sunlit foyer was decorated with ornate and expensive aristocratic ornaments, but they were covered in dust, giving the house a strange, almost dying appearance.

They walked up the stairs to a magnificent living room with a large window overlooking the street in front of the house, two ornate glass cabinets on either side of a large fireplace, and a wall covered with a Black family tree-shaped tapestry.

The glass cabinet doors on either side of the fireplace were very dirty, and inside were various dark magic objects and silverware.

Although it was very dirty and messy, it did have a distinctly medieval aristocratic style.

"Wow! What a wealthy family!" Owen whistled as if he were walking into his own home.

Then his eyes lit up and he immediately locked his gaze on a corner of the living room, near the fireplace, where Voldemort's items were displayed in a glass case.

He walked over casually.

Then he simply opened the glass display case and took out the pendant box.

"Here comes my Christmas present!" he said smugly, waving the locket in his hand.

"Put it down, you lowly thing! This is the noble Black family mansion, get out of here!"

Irving fiddled with the pendant box in his hand.

But then a hoarse, deep voice, like that of a bullfrog, rang in my ears.

It was a house-elf, and it looked very old. Its skin was covered in wrinkles, several times larger than its body actually needed. Its head was bald like all house-elves, but its two large, bat-like ears were covered in a clump of white fur.

His eyes were bloodshot, watery and grayish, and his fleshy nose was very big, almost like a pig's nose.

It had a dirty, tattered cloth wrapped around its waist, and apart from that, it was almost completely naked.

"What?" Irving put the locket into his pocket.

"You think I'll just release it because you tell me to?"

"Ugh—I won't let go, I won't let go, I'll make you angry!"

After saying that, he continued to search through the items in the glass display case.

He looked exactly like a thief who broke into someone's house.

Faced with such a shameless person, Kreacher was trembling with rage.

It reached out as if to cast a spell on Owen.

"Stop, Kreacher, Irving is my guest!" Sirius shouted upon seeing this.

Kreacher stopped upon hearing the sound.

The withered, mummy-like arm remained suspended in mid-air.

Then he turned around, bent over, tilted his head back, stared at Sirius with wide, round eyes, and a strange, indescribable expression appeared on his face.

"Oh! What did Kreacher see? The spendthrift young master who disappeared more than ten years ago has returned, bringing a bunch of brats to ravage the noble Black family's house." Its voice was slow, its eyes filled with disdain. As it spoke, it turned and bowed to Sirius, a rather bizarre scene, as if something in the house was forcing it to do this.

"Hmph~ I didn't expect you to still be alive," Sirius said calmly.

"Who is he?" Hermione looked at Kreacher curiously; he looked very different from Dobby.

"Kreacher, a house-elf who serves the Black family." Sirius paused, then added, "a guy whose head is full of madness."

"Madness?" Hermione frowned, instinctively loathing Kreacher's robes.

That was a symbol of slavery, a symbol of oppression.

I can hardly believe that such a creature still exists in this world as we approach the 21st century.

"This is what house-elves are like in the real world. Dobby is an exception." Ron glanced at Kreacher and then said in a knowing tone, as if he really knew a lot.

"What do you mean by 'originally'? No race is inherently destined to be slaves!" Hermione rebuked.

She stared intently at Ron like an enraged lion.

Realizing he had misspoke, Ron quickly shut his mouth, knowing that if he argued back, Hermione would launch into an endless lecture about freedom, equality, and justice.

He didn't want to spend all his time on that.

He preferred to listen to Irving tell stories.

Seeing Ron's microphone was muted, Hermione ignored him and walked confidently towards Kreacher. "You know you don't have to do this, right?"

She said, "If you don't want to bow, you don't have to bow; you don't need anyone's permission."

"Hello, I'm Hermione Granger, and over there—this is Owen."

"Oh my god~ The Mudblood that the master brought back spoke to Kreacher. She has defiled this house and ruined the noble bloodline of the Blacks. If the mistress were still here, she would never have allowed a Mudblood into her house."

"Shut up, Kreacher!" Sirius said through gritted teeth. "Don't let me hear that word out of your mouth again."

"No—it's alright." The little witch took a deep breath and then withdrew her hand, which had instinctively reached for the wand inside her robe.

—Ahem—She's used to it.

At Hogwarts, the old Hogwarts, it was often the idiot Slytherin who uttered that word to her.

That's because she had already developed a trigger mechanism that made her immediately cast a spell upon hearing that word.

It's etched into my bones.

It's really not easy to break through in midfield these days.

"Perhaps we should take it one step at a time," Hermione said, mustering her courage once more.

A smile returned to his face. Then he said softly, "I know a house-elf just like you. He only does what he likes to do, and he needs to be paid when he works for others."

"Oh no~~"

"Wages... what an evil word."

The moment I hear the word "salary".

Kreacher retreated repeatedly, as if he had seen some kind of pest.

(End of this chapter)