Hogwarts: Harry Returns from the Witcher

Chapter 232 Work
Lupine's eyes were extremely piercing.

They obediently opened the car door and sat in. The wizards can always make things that are different from the outside, and the inside of the car is extremely spacious.

Sirius stretched comfortably, his arms spread wide, and he didn't hit anyone in the face.

You can even pull out a wine table and set up wizard chess.

Arthur drove a lot of speeding cars. His driving experience was not directly proportional to his lack of car knowledge. His mind was almost entirely on Sirius, but he still drove smoothly.

Drinks on the table will not be spilled.

The transparent car passes through the clouds, and occasionally a group of birds will be startled. They are restless and flustered, but they can't detect anything.

more than an hour later.

Amidst the chatter between Lupine and Tonks, they landed smoothly.

Sirius was about to push the door.

"Wait, don't worry, we will scare the Muggles if we go out now." Arthur quickly stopped him, rummaged in his pocket, and took out a silver lighter after a while.

He rolled down the window and held out his hand.

There was a click—he rubbed the flint, and the nearest street lamp seemed to be pulled out of its soul, and the light source arced away and sank into the lighter.

Harry looked at it, surprise in his eyes.

Not extinguished.

It is to swallow the light in a conceptual sense.

"I borrowed this from Dumbledore." Arthur muttered and introduced, clicking and clicking in his hands, "He said it was a very powerful magic item, but it seemed useless except for turning off the lights. "

After a while, the whole square was plunged into darkness.

Arthur still wanted to press it.

"You can't press it anymore." Harry pressed his hand, "Press it again to turn off the lights in other people's homes."

Arthur took back the extinguisher resentfully. This thing looks ordinary, but it really relieves pressure when pressed.

He raised his wand and was about to say the spell.

Sirius stretched out his hand and flipped a button, and the lights in the compartment suddenly turned on.

"Harry, Remus, you two look at this." Arthur took out a note and spread it out.

On it was Dumbledore's flamboyant handwriting: "The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is ​​located at 12 Grimmauld Place, London."

The note is unremarkable, and the text is also unremarkable.

But in such an ordinary situation, a magical breath gushed out, wrapped him and Lupine, wrapped around his wrists, and soon sank into his body.

"The Fidelity Curse." Harry reached out his hand, trying to catch the breath, but failed.

"Yes." Sirius comforted him, "But Harry, don't worry, I didn't make my own opinion this time. The keeper is Professor Dumbledore, and no one can pry the command out of his mouth." Location."

Harry picked up the note and waved it in front of his eyes.

"No, this is an exception, I have to tell you, otherwise even if we take you with us, you won't be able to get in." Sirius gritted his teeth in embarrassment.

He rubbed his hands, and the Sign of Igni gushed out, devouring the note and annihilating it into ashes.

Then, another vanishing spell was issued, and even the ashes disappeared without a trace.

They just got out of the car.

In the dark square, move forward in the dark, and through the moonlight, some things can be seen vaguely.

Many years ago, Grimmauld Square may have been a wealthy area of ​​London and a landmark building complex, but now it is dirty and dilapidated, with garbage piled up, and the nose is full of corruption and stench. The wall bricks on the house are falling off, moss, and creepers are densely packed.

It's very old.

The house on the note does not seem to exist.

They are now in the middle of the two rooms, to the left is "No. 11" and to the right is "12a"-although the number "12" is hung, it represents "No. 13". The British people hate the number "13". , they usually substitute other words, or numbers.

No need for Arthur to remind.

Harry thought to himself, "Between 11 and 12a, there's 12 Grimmauld Place."

Thoughts from the soul, due to reality.

Numbers 11 and 12a were pushed aside, and they receded silently to the sides. "No. 12" squeezed out from between them. It was a dirtier and dilapidated house with a rare magical plant stuck to the dirty walls— —Only a home environment that is basically not cleaned can be born. Professor Sprout had a headache for a long time in order to find them.

The door was also dirty, and the elegant black paint on it was almost completely peeled off, except for the last few flakes in the corner.

A scratch on the left and a scratch on the right are grimly carved on the facade.

Families from Slytherin House seem to love snakes, and there is a snake on the door of Black's old house-a silver shiny ouroboros, which is used as a door knocker and hung on it.

Except for those who watched this scene happen, no one else noticed the change here.

The neighbors of No. 11 and No. 12a next door didn't notice, even the neighbor of "No. 8" who stuck his eyeballs on the window and peeked out curiously didn't notice.

Sirius took out his wand and tapped it lightly on the knocker.

The silver snake turned, click, click - the mechanism rang, and the old chains rubbed against each other making a harsh and laborious sound. After a long while, the door creaked and opened with difficulty.

"It's time to lube." Sirius sighed.

He touched the ancient door with an inexplicably melancholy tone.

This used to be his home, even here, he didn't enjoy a good childhood.

"Let's go." He shook his head, "Go in quickly, be careful."

They stepped over the threshold and walked in.

Arthur was the last one, holding the extinguisher, and released the light balls one by one, and the street lights were quickly turned on again.

When he also came in, the door was slammed shut with a snap.

The room was dark, with a damp, stale, stale air, and Harry raised his wand and cast a Cleansing Charm, which made the smell slightly better.

"How do I turn on the lights?" Harry released the Luminescent Charm, illuminating the surroundings.

Sirius muttered, "I remember being here?"

He walked to the side, stretched out his hand to touch it, and after a while, an ethereal light was released, illuminating the narrow entrance hall, the wallpaper was peeling off and hanging half dead, the carpet had been trampled and polished over time, even the original The patterns are not clearly visible.

All sorts of old, dusty trinkets were in the shape of snakes—as if Blake were the heir to Slytherin.

Harry had the sharpest senses.

He can hear that in this house, there are at least five or six biomes, common cockroaches, foxes, goblins, carnivorous slugs that shouldn't be here, the environment is so bad, it's not even comparable to the Forbidden Forest ——At least the air in the Forbidden Forest is much cleaner.

In the distance, footsteps hurried.

Molly appeared at the other end of the hall and greeted them with a very low voice: "Arthur, and Harry, you are finally back, more than ten minutes later than we estimated."

"It's been a long time since I met my friend, so it took a while to chat." Arthur explained cautiously, "But don't worry, we haven't encountered any trouble."

"Harry." Molly ignored her husband and hugged Harry warmly. "Finally saw you again. How was your summer vacation? Ron kept talking about you. You seem to have lost some weight? But dinner will take a while." Wait a minute, a group of foxes came over to make a fuss just now."

Arthur interrupted his wife: "Obviously you have been talking about Harry, Ron, George, and Fred are going crazy together."

Molly stared over.

Arthur shrank his neck.

"Go upstairs? Ron and George are there." Molly let go of Harry, "Miss Granger hasn't arrived yet, so you may need to wait for Tonks to pick her up."

Arthur grabbed Harry's arm: "I'm afraid not, Harry has to go to the meeting with us."

"Harry is only in fifth grade!" Molly exclaimed in a small voice under her breath.

Arthur pressed his wife's shoulders: "But Harry is very mature and powerful, much better than us adult wizards. The backbone of the Order of the Phoenix is ​​Dumbledore and Harry."

Molly sighed, with tears in her eyes, she was a little hard to accept that a little wizard like her own child had to shoulder such a big responsibility.

"Dear Aunt Molly, don't worry, I'll be fine." Harry hugged her again.

Molly nodded: "Okay, let's go, Dumbledore must have his reasons for doing so."

They hurried out of the hall.

Only then did Arthur's voice return to normal volume: "Sirius, you're here. After the meeting is over, let's discuss how to clean this room."

"I've said it all, you can do whatever you want." Sirius spread his hands indifferently, and suddenly paused, "But those books have to be kept for Harry."

Arthur shook his head: "No, this is your house after all, we are already very embarrassed to borrow it, how can we clean it casually, besides"

He lowered his voice. "That house-elf is tough."

"Kreacher?" Sirius tossed out a name.

Arthur nodded.

Sirius gritted his teeth: "Don't worry, I will convince it well."

No one has been back to Black's old house for many years. Although there are house elves here, it seems that they are only using magic to maintain the integrity of the house structure. Even the hard-working creatures have given up on maintaining cleanliness and hygiene.

They climbed up the creaking steps that sounded like they might collapse at any moment to the second floor.

Walk down the long, dark corridor to the living room at the end.

The space is very large, with a huge floor-to-ceiling window, which can see the square and the street outside the window; a huge fireplace is pierced through one wall, and there are once exquisite but now dilapidated glass cabinets on the left and right ends.

Full of the breath of various creatures.

Live vixies, boggarts shivering in hiding, a bunch of dead velvets, and some non-magical animals, spiders, cockroaches, centipedes, they hide in deeper corners, a group of Another group, densely packed.

The living room was barely tidied up, at least the long table was clean, with brand new candlesticks, and many people sat beside it.

Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall, and even Rita Skeeter.

"Why is this woman here!" Sirius frowned, looking at Rita in disbelief.

"Why can't I be here." Rita pinched her waist, confidently saying, "For Mr. Potter, I went through life and death, even if I don't have credit, I have hard work!"

"Fired from the Daily Prophet, have nowhere to go?" Harry said succinctly.

Rita was startled, and tilted her head back. The square glasses slipped off her face uncontrollably. She hurriedly caught them and put them back on: "Mr. Potter, how do you know?"

"Since you were on vacation, you haven't posted even one article." Harry sat down and answered her, "I thought you were caught again, but seeing you now, you are obviously safe and sound."

Rita sighed, raised her hand and knocked heavily on the table, with a click, a crack was made, and a few pieces of sawdust jumped out.

His body froze, and his voice became terrified: "I didn't use any strength! It's very light, very light!"

She took out her wand and tried to cast a spell to repair it, but the repairing spell fell on it, which not only failed to repair it, but even made the crack even bigger.

"I forgot to tell you." Sirius said slowly, "This table has been counter-cursed, and the magic won't work."

"You Black..." Rita blushed, seeing Harry's face, swallowed back the next few indecent words, "Furniture also casts counter-curses?"

"One or two of Black are indeed sick." Sirius nodded, and helped Rita say the words she dared not say, "I didn't know that the ancestors thought so, maybe they were lazy just to avoid the house elf casting a spell .”

"Spell cleaning is better than manual cleaning," Harry reminded him.

Sirius was expressionless: "But it's not noble or elegant at all, and it doesn't reflect the difference between master and servant."

There is nothing noble about buying a serving of fried potatoes from downstairs.

But if someone sends him to run on two legs from Great Britain to France, and buy a fried potato, even if he is wilted and unheated, he is noble.

"I'll try to fix it, but if it doesn't work, I'll buy another one for you." Rita sighed, admitting the bad luck.

"This table is from the Middle Ages." Sirius kindly reminded her, "It's more than 600 years old."

Rita's breathing froze for a moment.

What does history mean?Means money, lots of Galleons.

"Can you wait for a while until I find a job again?" Rita was pitiful and aggrieved, "I just lost my job, and now I don't have much money."

Sirius pinched his waist, feeling indescribably happy, this damn woman has caused him so much suffering, and now he is finally going to pay back.

"How did you get fired from the Daily Prophet?" Harry asked her.

Rita raised her hand again, looking at the marks that she had just smashed, she paused a little, and smashed her fist on her thigh: "Minister Fudge ordered no one to speak for you, at first it was because of the so-called 'Freedom of speech', they pinched their noses and tolerated me posting a few articles."

"But I'm not even allowed to publish photos!"

"Once the limelight passed, they even found a reason to fire me, and they didn't even give me compensation!"

"Damn the Daily Prophet."

"What picture are you running?" Sirius asked her. "Harry's?"

Rita shook her head: "Of course not, Mr. Dumbledore allowed me to take pictures of the three notes from the Triwizard Tournament."

As she said that, she paused: "There are also a few photos I took by sneaking into the Auror's office. Their death conditions are not as exaggerated as they were made up. Most importantly, they all have the Dark Mark on their arms. It is the most crucial and the most important."

"They didn't report it at all!"

"As long as these things are released, isn't it clear whether you, Mr. Potter, have been threatened?"

The more she spoke, the more angry her voice became.

"They're a pack of hyenas!" Rita cursed.

Sirius coughed twice.

Rita paused, and quickly changed her words: "They are all a pack of thieves!"

Harry coughed twice.

Rita didn't know about Harry's Animagus, but she knew Lupine's identity as a werewolf, so she quickly changed her words: "They're all a bunch of troll brains!"

Snape nodded affirmatively at her swearing.

"Reporters have forgotten their conscience, they don't care about the facts at all, and they make up disgusting rumors by grabbing gossip!" Rita scolded vigorously, stood up, and stepped on the stool, "As reporters, we must always remember Tell the readers the truth!"

Everyone in the room looked at her with strange eyes.

Others might be qualified to say that.

But you, Rita Skeeter, the most famous and swindling reporter in the wizarding world, how dare you say these things out of your mouth? Those people you scolded are doing what you are best at and doing the most vigorously. ah!
Rita caught their eyes, but pinched her waist, confidently: "I'm different from them now!"

"I have corrected my mistakes and become confident under Mr. Porter's teachings. I will be an upright reporter in the future."

Harry said blankly, "You just boarded the pirate ship, it's not easy to get off again."

Rita's expression and momentum suddenly collapsed, and she sat back silently: "Mr. Potter, you don't need to be so straightforward, at least let me trust myself."

"If you're looking for a job, I know a pretty good place for you." Arthur rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

Rita's eyes glowed: "Mr. Weasley, thank you so much, where is it going? Which magazine or newspaper?"

"Wizard Weekly?"

"Focus on the truth?"

"still."

Arthur interrupted her enjoyment: "No, it's a quandary."

"Quieter?" Rita's brain was a little out of order, her eyes were blank, she searched in her mind, and after a while, she pulled out the information of this magazine from the gap.

"That magazine that publishes some weird rumors that aren't even news?"

Arthur nodded, not wanting to refute the prefixes she said at all.

"I don't even have the idea of ​​using them to fertilize my garden." Rita shook her head, her face and body full of resistance.

Arthur said earnestly: "But if you want to publish the things you investigated, such as the photos of the Dark Mark on the Death Eaters, or the photo of the Goblet of Fire spitting out three notes, I'm afraid the entire Only one magazine, Great Britain, has the guts."

"Mr. Lovegood is a man of great courage and naive romanticism compared to ordinary people."

In short, he was almost as insane as Dumbledore.

　5K! ! ! ! ! ! !

　　One more chapter tonight, also a 5K! ! ! !
　　
　
(End of this chapter)