Chapter 184: Grimmauld Place
Chapter 184: Grimmauld Place
September 1st.
Felix woke up early and made his way through Diagon Alley to return to London.
He needed to do some back-to-school shopping.
Besides updating his film reel collection, he purchased a large number of the latest books and clothes, but most importantly, he found a map shop.
It was a quaint little store with an old-fashioned brown shelf displaying a variety of maps.
There were maps of London, maps of the British Isles, and they served different purposes—bird's-eye views, tourist maps, and transportation maps.
As Felix was about to buy a thick atlas, he casually asked the shop clerk, “Have you heard of Grimmauld Place?”
The clerk pushed up his glasses and looked up from a colorful brochure in front of him.
Thirty minutes later, he was standing in a rundown neighborhood in old London.
The houses here were quite old, with peeling walls revealing large patches of unattractive gray. To be honest, he hadn't expected the Black family's ancestral home to be hidden here.
He wandered around the area. Some houses were still occupied, but others were clearly abandoned—piles of garbage at the doors and broken windows.
On a more desolate patch of lawn, his gaze fell on a house. The number on the door read 12 Grimmauld Place.
He looked to either side. The house on the left was number 10, and the one on the right was number 13.
"Interesting, even wizards can't see it?"
Felix stood there, examining something.
An elderly woman carrying a cloth bag slowly approached. "Young man, what brings you here?"
"Visiting a pen pal, ma'am. The address isn't very clear, and I'm trying to figure it out", Felix replied evasively.
"I've lived here for over fifty years, since I was born... I might be able to help. Tell me more."
"Uh, it's in the old district of West London, Grimmauld Place. The house number is a bit blurry, but I think it's 12", Felix said, looking somewhat helpless at the enthusiastic old woman.
"Number 12? That's impossible, young man. There is no such house", the old woman said, raising her voice. "You must have the wrong information... or maybe your friend is playing a cruel joke on you."
"I find it strange too", Felix pointed to the house in front of him. "This is number 11, and that one is number 13. It's just that there's no number 12..."
The old woman laughed heartily. "...You're not the only one with this question." She winked and lowered her voice. "It's a mistake. I heard from my grandmother, who heard it from someone else, that the builders back then were a bunch of bumbling fools. The workers did their job, and by today's standards, it wasn't bad. But they hung the wrong house numbers, and the city hall didn't notice during their inspection. So the mistake was never corrected."
"I remember that over the years, a few people have reported it, but nothing came of it. You know, this place is totally neglected. Maybe in a few decades, it will be demolished, for being an eyesore... But I won't agree to it, and neither will my grandson—he's only two, but as they say, education starts early, and some traditions must be upheld." She tilted her head and said with a smile.
The old woman was quite talkative, and from her, Felix learned some less reliable legends.
For example, "Number 12 Grimmauld Place is real, and it's a haunted house." Or, "The workers didn't hang the wrong numbers; a nobleman bought the place, but then the house disappeared..."
Felix found these legends fascinating and occasionally let out a few exclamations, which made the old woman look at him with even more approval. "Young men who respect their elders are rare these days, unlike the neighbors next door, who play their music all night, disturbing the peace. I've knocked on their door several times, but it's no use."
Felix handed her a small card. For a moment, the old woman thought she saw a flash of gold on its surface, but it might have been the sun reflecting off it.
"Lady, you can write a note and slip it under their door to warn them about others' feelings. Oh, and it might be best to include the emergency phone number."
"Will it work?" The old woman took the card with some doubt. "People around here aren't exactly polite."
"Give it a try. It can't make things worse."
After declining her invitation, Felix cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself and stood quietly in place.
A few people walked by in the neighborhood, but none of them noticed him.
As noon approached, he pulled out his wand and began to draw intricate patterns, parting layers of mist and squeezing himself into the air.
His figure vanished.
In a narrow crevice, Felix struggled to move forward, but he was soon blocked by a wall of air, a highly sophisticated magical barrier.
Then he heard a shrill scream, a sound so grating that Felix shuddered. A few seconds later, he was forcefully ejected, landing back on the lawn of Grimmauld Place.
"Someone's inside?"
Felix said, puzzled. "Headmaster Black didn't mention this..." But upon further thought, he realized it could be a House-elf.
After a moment's hesitation, Felix decided to leave. He could certainly force his way back in, breaking through the barrier with his advanced magic, but it might take an hour, a day, or even longer.
If someone was inside, whether a Wizard or a House-elf, they wouldn't remain passive in the face of his intrusion.
"At least I know about this place."
Felix took a deep look and then disappeared.
...
Meanwhile, on the Hogwarts Express.
"Did you see that, Harry? Malfoy is such a coward. He ran off as soon as he saw a professor. Just like his family!" Ron said with a slightly spiteful tone, but it wasn't entirely his fault, considering Malfoy had just mocked his family.
"Ron", Hermione hissed, pointing at the professor slumped on the table. "Be careful..."
The three of them glanced over. The disheveled professor was still fast asleep. They continued their conversation, but in hushed tones.
"I'm serious. If he dares to mock my family again, I'll grab him by the head—Harry, what's wrong with you?" Ron asked, looking at Harry.
"What?"
"You're too calm, especially when Malfoy was around. You just drew your wand and looked at him like he was a caterpillar or something."
"I have the same feeling, Harry", Hermione said seriously.
Harry scratched his head. "Maybe it has something to do with me getting stronger. When Malfoy provoked us, I didn't feel much anger. It was like watching a performance. It's strange..."
He looked at Ron and Hermione, speaking uncertainly. "I think it's because I knew I could easily win if it came to a fight. I anticipated the outcome beforehand."
Ron let out a strange noise. "That's so cool, mate!"
"Hush, Ron—" Hermione reminded him.
But he wasn't listening, excitedly saying, "Tell us more about Professor Hepprofessor's training, Harry! I'm so jealous!"
Harry sighed and repeated, "Honestly, it wasn't a pleasant experience. I don't know how I managed to get through it, but Professor Hepprofessor said it was a rare opportunity..."
He began to recount his story, and Ron and Hermione listened intently, their eyes fixed on him.
None of them noticed the sleeping professor, who twitched slightly in his sleep.
(End of Chapter)
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