Hogwarts, a Scholar Becomes a God

Is it weird to see a house-elf in a pure-blood wizarding family's house? Not surprisingly!

To an old and wealthy wizarding family, house-elves were as commonplace as air conditioners, refrigerators, and washing machines in the homes of wealthy Muggles.

This kind of little thing that can take on all housework, work hard and never betray, can be said to be the most perfect slave. Every rich wizard family will try to get one or two.

As for this kind of exploitative behavior, the wizards have long been accustomed to it, and they will not feel any embarrassment.

Even Clark's aunt Molly Weasley's family just lamented that their family was too poor, and that there was a ghoul living in the attic above her head, not a house elf, and she couldn't help her share some housework.

But it was the first time Clark had seen such an old house-elf.

Yes, that's a living house elf, not some wall decoration.

He looked very old, older than any house-elf Clark had ever seen, and his dark green skin was wrinkled and appeared to be several times more than his body actually needed.

Although his head was bald like all house-elves, there were a lot of white hairs growing out of those big bat-like ears.

Of course, compared to his old age, this house elf's clothes are extraordinarily thin, except for a dirty rag around his waist, like the loincloth used by men in tropical countries to cover his body, his whole body is almost is naked.

This age combined with this attire made him look both desolate and pitiful.

At this moment, the house-elf was like a sculpture, standing at the corner of the dark staircase, hunched over, standing still.

He seemed to have just discovered Clark and the others, and even if he bent down, he still tried his best to turn his head upwards, staring at Sirius Black in surprise with his big bloodshot, gray eyes.

And behind him, Harry and Clark.

And after seeing Harry and Clark clearly, the house elf's face was immediately mixed with a strange expression that could not be explained, and the big watery eyes were quickly stained with a hint of disgust—

Clark felt this clearly, and his telepathy could clearly detect that this house-elf was in the same state as a wizard saw a goblin in his yard.

"What did the poor old Kreacher see? The prodigal young master who disappeared for more than ten years, brought back two unidentified cubs today to spoil my mistress's house."

This guy's voice is very slow, like a bullfrog making a low cry there, and his eyes are full of disdain.

At the same time as he said this, he bowed deeply towards Sirius, his body was ridiculously low, and his big nose like a pig's nose was directly flattened on the ground.

It can be seen that he must be very reluctant to do this, it is just his house-elf instinct demanding that he respect his master.

Therefore, Clark and Harry could clearly hear him, who pressed his nose to the ground, said in a very soft voice:

"The young master was a nasty, ungrateful **** who broke his mother's heart--oh, my poor mistress, she swore not to recognize him as a son, and now he's back, and he's said to be a murderer-- "

Harry's face was stunned, while Clark resisted his smile and looked at Blake. Even when he was standing behind, he seemed to be able to see the throbbing blue veins on Blake's forehead.

"My mother has no heart, Kreacher," said Sirius sullenly. "She lives entirely on resentment, no! She wasn't alive, she's dead."

"No matter what Master says," Kreacher muttered indignantly, straightening up, "Master isn't even worthy to polish the soles of his mother's shoes, oh my poor mistress, what would she say if she saw Kreacher serving Master , how the mistress hated him, how disappointing he was—"

When he said this, he bowed again, I made some mistakes, I apologized, but I just didn't change my posture.

Harry pulled LaBlack's sleeve at this point and whispered, "Who is he?"

"Kreacher, the house-elf who serves the Black family." Sirius paused and added, "A crazy guy, you don't need to worry about him."

"Kreacher is not crazy, Kreacher just didn't see the two young masters just now."

The elf bowed to both Clark and Harry again, but at this time they also heard, and the guy's mouth was not saying good things.

"The prodigal also brought back two little cubs, Kreacher doesn't know their names.

What is he doing here? Kreacher doesn't know. Kreacher only heard that they had one to live in the hostess' house.

If the poor hostess knew that the young master had brought such scum into her house, what would she have said to old Kreacher, what a shame! "

With such a performance, Harry didn't know if he should say hello to this house elf, so he could only wave his hand awkwardly, "Hello, I'm Harry, Harry Potter."

Seeing Clark talking to him, Kreacher's light-colored eyes suddenly widened, and the words in his mouth were more irritating than before.

"That brat was talking to Kreacher like he was my friend, and if Kreacher's mistress saw him with someone like that, oh, what would she say—"

"Hey, be respectful, he is my godson, will live here in the future, and is your master!" Black said angrily.

But Kreacher still muttered to himself as if he hadn't heard it at all.

"Is it real? Really Harry Potter? Kreacher saw the scar, it must be real, the boy who stopped the Dark Lord, Kreacher doesn't know how he did it, Dark Lord So powerful—"

"Enough, shut up! Stand up quickly," Sirius roared with a livid face, "what the **** are you trying to do?"

"Kreacher is cleaning," said the elf, bowing his head, "Kreacher has served the noble Black family all his life—"

"But the house is getting darker every day, and it's so dirty." Sirius didn't seem to believe him.

"Master always likes a little joke," Kreacher said, bowing again, but Blake wasn't so easy to fool.

He said coldly: "I ask what are you going to do? Every time you come out and pretend to clean, but you sneak everything into your room and don't let us throw it away."

"Kreacher will never let the young master take anything in the house from its proper place."

The elf said, and then repeated quickly, "If the tapestry is thrown away, the mistress will never forgive Kreacher, the tapestry has been in this house for seven centuries, and Kreacher must keep it, Kreacher won't let the master and the little brats destroy the tapestry—"

"I knew it was so," said Sirius, casting a contemptuous glance at the opposite wall. "She'll cast another perpetual affixing spell behind the tapestry, I don't doubt it, but if I can get rid of it It, I will never hesitate."

"Okay, get out, Kreacher, get out of here and let's go before I can't help but kill you."

The elf looked at Blake in disbelief, as if he didn't expect Blake to let him go so easily.

However, he didn't dare to disobey the master's order, so he could only drag his feet to the basement not far away.

As he walked, he also cast a hateful look at Sirius, and at the same time kept mumbling words.

"—Coming back from Azkaban, he was pointing fingers at Kreacher.

Oh my poor mistress. What would she say if she saw the house like this, the scumbag lived in, her baby was thrown out, she swore not to recognize him as a son, and now he's back, he's said to be a murderer -"

Harry couldn't help it now, and retorted: "Sirius has been proven innocent, he didn't kill anyone, he's a hero now!"

"You don't need to tell him this!" Sirius stared at Kreacher who was far away in disgust. "He won't listen. He used to be like this, a hateful house elf. You have to pay attention at home in the future."

Saying that, he picked up an umbrella stand and threw it in Kreacher's direction as if venting.

"Shut up, Kreacher! If you howl again, I'm going to kill someone!"

It was only after the thing was taken off his hands that he seemed to react, "Oh, shit, I forgot-"

Before Black could finish speaking, Harry and Clark were drowned out by a terrible, deafening, creepy scream.

The insect-eyed velvet drapery on the corridor wall suddenly unraveled without the pressure of the umbrella stand.

For a split second, Harry thought there was a window behind it, and behind the window was an old lady in a black hat screaming desperately, a voice that sounded like she was being severely beaten—

Then he realized that it was just a life-size magical portrait, like the one at Hogwarts Castle, but he had never seen such a lifelike, unpleasant portrait in his life.

The old lady was drooling, her eyes were rolling, and the yellow skin on her face was tensed from screaming.

In the further hallway, the other portraits were awakened by her and began to scream, almost deafening the ears.

Only Clark looked at the portrait with interest, "It's really interesting, I've never seen this kind of magic painting before, and it really deserves to be one of the twenty-eight sacred families. The Black family still has something."

In a conventional magic painting, the artist follows the person being painted day and night, watching his every move, grasping the other person's spirit, drawing a portrait, and then washing it with magic potions to give it vitality and wisdom.

In fact, the magic painting produced in this way has nothing to do with the model. It is just an imitation that is very similar to the deceased. It is specially used to hang the family of the deceased on the wall to relieve the pain of lovesickness.

However, Clark can clearly feel that the old lady in front of her is not as simple as a portrait, she really has soul fluctuations!

Although this kind of fluctuation is very secret and very weak, Clark, who is a [Psion], can be sure that he is not wrong.

"That's interesting."

Clark remembered that he had seen this situation in the family's collection, that is, before dying, the person being painted used his own soul as a sacrifice to sacrifice his own magic painting, so that his own soul would be sacrificed. stay on the picture.

This situation seems to give a person eternal life, but the result is not as good as imagined.

First of all, the soul that resides on the magic painting is only a fragment of the soul of the deceased, between the residual thoughts and the soul. It seems to be living in the painting, but it is only a self-deceiving way of prolonging its life.

In addition, the life living in the magic paintings is not so beautiful, maybe for pure portraits, they do not have that kind of "live" meaning.

But the sadness of this sacrificial golem is that they still retain part of the consciousness in front of them, which makes their life a prison-like torment.

In particular, some portraits even have to watch their children and descendants gradually dwindle, the family status is declining, and they themselves are powerless.

This kind of pain is very inhuman, so there are very few wizards in the magic world today who do this kind of thing.

Even if some wizards are willing to suffer this kind of pain, those magicians will refuse with words. UU reading www. uukanshu.com

"It seems that the Black family must have a familiar magician who is even willing to take risks for their family. But this Mrs. Black is also a hard worker."

Clark could imagine how desperate the mother of Sirius Black was to get to this point.

She lost her son in middle age, and her youngest son, who entrusted her family's hope, died at the hands of the Dark Lord, and she did not dare to take revenge.

The eldest son was a failure. Not only was he assigned to Gryffindor, but he also mingled with Potter and the guys every day. He was even removed from the family and imprisoned in Azkaban.

Seeing that this pure-blood wizard family, which has been passed down for thousands of years, is going to decay and sever by her own hands, she may have only this way.

Even if she wants to decay, even if she wants to cut off, she will stare wide and see the last step - until the last little bit of hope disappears!

This is both her torment and her redemption.

"Beasts! Bitches! Dirty and sinful bastards! Bastards, freaks, ugly ones, get out of here! How dare you defile my ancestor's house—"

Clark looked at the still noisy portrait, and suddenly felt sad for the old woman.

The tide of the times is rolling forward, and these families with blood as their inheritance will eventually be annihilated in the years, leaving only the unwilling wailing of the old era.

I don't know what will happen to their Prewett family in the end.

Perhaps, only the gods, only by sitting on the throne in the starry sky, can barely escape this reincarnation.

Looking at the farce in front of him and realizing the ruthlessness of fate, Clark's heart suddenly became firmer.

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