A certain Hogwarts professor of runes.

The car was parked in front of a small red house.

Harry got out of the car carrying Hedwig's cage, took his and Hermione's luggage out of the trunk, and headed towards the door. But no one followed him. He turned around and saw the Grangers holding their daughter tightly.

Harry suddenly understood the eerie atmosphere in the car earlier—Hermione's parents had known about Voldemort's resurrection for a long time; in fact, they had almost witnessed it firsthand. He himself had spent two boring weeks on Privet Drive, but at the same time, the Grangers had endured immense psychological burdens, living in constant fear for their daughter.

Finally, Hermione was separated from her parents. She watched them get into the car, the engine start, and then they disappeared around the corner.

Hermione stared motionlessly at the spot where the car had disappeared. After a long while, she wiped her eyes, dragged her suitcase, and walked towards Harry.

"Is this the house Sirius rented?" Hermione asked sullenly.

“Yes—Hermione, you can stay home for two months,” Harry said, mustering his courage. “You’re not like me—”

"Stop joking, Harry! After knowing that war is coming, what are you doing?" Hermione interrupted him, her tone fierce. "I don't want to die in the war."

Chapter 496 The Neglect of Duty by Mundungus

“Let’s go in,” Harry whispered to Hermione, and they walked together into Sirius’s rented room.

But there were already people inside.

Harry stared wide-eyed at the unshaven stranger before him, a man with a tangled head of ginger-yellow hair who looked like he'd rolled around in the mud a few times. He was leaning back on the sofa, one short, bow-legged leg dangling lazily on the table, seemingly asleep.

"Who are you!" Harry and Hermione both drew their wands at the same time.

Crookshan lay prone on the ground, letting out threatening growls.

The man in the tattered coat was startled awake. He sat up and looked up to see a sparking magic wand pressed against his neck. He obediently raised his hands in surrender.

“My name is Mundungus Fletcher, and I’m here to protect you on Dumbledore’s orders,” said the short, stout man.

“You’re lying,” Hermione shrieked. “How could Dumbledore send someone like you, someone like you—”

Mundungus gave her a wronged look. "What's wrong with me? I work for both Dumbledore and Hyp, and I joined the Order of the Phoenix over a decade ago..."

“But what are you doing here? This is Sirius’s rented house,” Harry asked, continuing to point his wand at the man.

“He sent me, and he can’t leave right now.” Mundungus leaned back cautiously.

“So you’re the one who came to tell me to leave early?” Harry’s eyes widened. “But you didn’t do anything, you just slept here.” He said irritably, almost misunderstanding Hermione because of the mismatched information.

Mundungus pointed to his relaxed, bloodshot eyes. "Look at me. I just finished something important and I'm so sleepy I can barely keep my eyes open. I arrived early and was thinking of taking a nap... I didn't expect you guys to come looking for me."

"Were you busy with the Order of the Phoenix before?"

"More or less," Mundungus said vaguely.

"But weren't you ordered to protect Harry?"

"Ahem, there's an urgent mission..."

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance, finding the guy very suspicious, with a furtive look in his eyes.

“Since you’re the one sent to inform Harry, then you—well, you should know where we’re going?” Hermione asked.

“I can’t give you the exact address, at least not now. We have to wait until—” Mundungus said, waving his hand, “Wait, don’t be impulsive, it’s the Black’s old house!”

Harry and Hermione put down their wands.

How do we leave from here?

“Through that,” Mundungus pointed to the fireplace, “the Floo Net.”

"What about time?"

“At seven o’clock, we’ll be waiting for another person who has a note,” Mundungus muttered. “Don’t ask me, I don’t know who it is.”

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance; they had a pretty good idea who it was.

What was the note you just mentioned?

“The specific address written down by the confidant serves as the key to the 'Loyalty Charm',” Mundungus explained. “The place we’re going to has been enchanted with the 'Loyalty Charm.' After the spell is cast, no one can reveal this address to anyone else, and outsiders simply can’t find it. Only the confidant has the right to decide who to reveal the secret to. Then we can speak without any scruples.”

Harry and Hermione believed him for the time being, but further questioning was still necessary.

"Are you close to Sirius?" Harry asked.

“Of course, I often use the fireplace here. It’s safe, secluded, and not monitored by the Ministry of Magic!” Mundungus said.

"Unregulated?"

“Yes, I bet the Black family paid a hefty price to acquire this technology. Just imagine, if I mastered it, I could set up secret outposts all over the world! How convenient that would be! And I could perfectly evade the Ministries of Magic in every country!” Mundungus said smugly, praising his grand plan.

Unfortunately, the plan got stuck at the first step.

“Mr. Fletcher—”

“Just call me Mundungus, little girl. I’m not some nobleman,” Mundungus said, scratching his stubble.

“Well,” Hermione paused, “I’ve heard that connecting to a private fireplace requires the owner’s permission—and wizards aren’t allowed to connect Muggle fireplaces to the Floo Network unless there’s a legitimate reason…”

Mundungus waved his hand.

“Rules are rules. You know what I mean.” He winked at Hermione, a knowing, comical look on his face. “You dare say Sirius’s ancestors never set up a Floo Network? And the Ministry of Magic—hmph, that’s just a nice way of putting it…”

He started rummaging through his pockets, finally pulling out a filthy black pipe, which he put in his mouth before looking up at Harry and Hermione.

Do you mind?

"What? Oh, uh, of course not—"

“Thank you.” He lit his pipe with his wand and took a deep drag. A few seconds later, he exhaled a large plume of greenish, foul-smelling smoke. “I need a few puffs every hour to perk myself up—” Mundungus said through the smoke, as if explaining to them.

Harry and Hermione quietly shrank to the other end of the sofa, keeping their distance from him.

“Would you like something to eat, Hermione?” Harry asked loudly.

“Since you say so…” Hermione glanced at the ever-expanding smoke and stood up decisively: “I am indeed hungry.”

They walked toward the kitchen.

"Get me one too, thanks—" Mundungus called from the living room.

"Can you cook?" Hermione asked quietly from the kitchen.

"I know a little. I practiced at the Dursleys' house. What about you?"

"I know a little bit too," Hermione said guiltily.

Harry's hand touched the refrigerator door. "Oh no," he said.

"how--"

The refrigerator door was opened, and apart from two tomatoes on the top shelf, the inside was empty. Harry reached out and touched one of the tomatoes, revealing a large patch of mold.

“I forgot Sirius hasn’t been eating at home much lately,” Harry said.

Hermione blinked. "Can you accept compressed biscuits?"

“I’m not really hungry anymore,” Harry said hastily. “I just finished eating.”

“Me too,” Hermione said, squinting.

In the end, only Mundungus got to eat the compressed biscuits. Harry and Hermione had little appetite because the room reeked of burnt socks, and Harry had to open the windows to let in fresh air.

Just then, he saw a familiar figure walking across the street.

"Professor?" he said, overjoyed.

Felix glanced at Harry by the window, nodded with a smile, and was immediately assaulted by the smell in the room.

"Sweeped away in a whirlwind."

The smoke and dust in the room were swept away by a whirlwind, and Harry and Hermione visibly breathed a sigh of relief, with Hermione taking a deep, refreshing breath.

“I arrived half an hour early and found you had already left,” Felix said to Harry and Hermione. “Then I got held up by some things and spent some time persuading your families.”

"You saw the Dursleys?" Harry exclaimed.

"And that's not all," Felix thought. He glanced at Hermione; her parents were quite persistent, seemingly knowing he was coming and waiting for him by the roadside.

“I saw him,” Felix said briefly. “Your cousin had some trouble. When he saw me, he kept squeaking, and your uncle almost came at me to hit me…”

Harry stared at him, puzzled.

"...It was only later that I found out that it was your cousin who stole Honeyduke's ice rat, and it had nothing to do with me."

Felix glanced at the clock on the wall. "That's about right." He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and handed it to Harry. "You two take a look at this and remember this address. You won't need it again later."

Harry and Hermione took the note, which read "12 Grimmauld Place." They memorized it a few times, and then the note turned to ash.

"Professor, are you the person in charge of keeping secrets at the Black mansion?"

“I’m not,” Felix said, not going into details. “Dumbledore is, and he provided the note.”

At exactly seven o'clock, a bright green flame rose in the fireplace.

“As agreed, we have about two minutes, so hurry up.” Felix pushed Harry toward the fireplace and urged, “We can talk about any problems over there.”

He put all his luggage in the ring.

Harry, holding Hedwig, stood in the flames and shouted "12 Grimmauld Place," before his figure spun and disappeared. Next came Hermione and Mundungus, holding Crookshanks, and Felix finally stood in the fireplace.

“Young Master Harry,” a deep, husky voice said.

Harry was startled; his glasses were covered in a thick layer of dust, and he could only vaguely make out a small, thin figure.

“Kreacher?” he asked tentatively.

"It's Kreacher!" the old house-elf exclaimed happily, pulling a feather duster from behind him and hopping around to clean the dust off Harry.

"Oh, thank you—thank you, no need, I can do it myself—"

Harry said he saw a small square thing dangling in front of him, and he took off his glasses and wiped them on his clothes.

At this moment, Hermione, Mundungus, and Felix also arrived.

Harry wiped his glasses and stared at the green thing he had just seen—it was a locket that Kreacher had been wearing around his neck.

"Sirius gave this to you?" Harry asked in surprise. This thing was Regulus's relic, a fake Horcrux. He thought Sirius would keep it and not show it to anyone.

“The owner was very generous; he allowed me to keep this item safe,” Kreacher said.

At that moment, someone rushed out of the living room.

“Remus,” Felix greeted, “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. Have you completed your mission?”