https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-489-The-Heir-of-Black-Family-Manor/13685572/
Chapter 488: Old Books and Horcrux
Privet Drive had always been quiet, clean, and elegant—but lately, the usual serenity was shattered by the occasional thunderous scream from one particular house.
"I don't—no! I want cake! I want chocolate! I want steak—"
Dudley Dursley glared at the plate before him, his face twisted with fury. The only things on it were two limp carrot sticks and a couple of wilted lettuce leaves. He bellowed like a wounded animal.
Immediately after, Penny Dursley shrieked, followed by Fernon Dursley’s furious roar.
Harry flinched, snatched the two thin carrot sticks from his plate, and muttered quickly, “I’ll go check the mailbox for any letters.”
He didn’t know if anyone had heard him, but Harry was smart enough to avoid the brewing storm. With a swift, agile dash, he bolted out the front gate of the Dursley home, leaving all the terrifying voices behind.
He glanced into the mailbox, placed today’s newspaper on a shelf in the Great Hall, then sprinted all the way to the Black Family Manor.
Of course, the table was already laden with delicious, steaming breakfast: thick slices of toast stuffed with crispy bacon, fried eggs and sausages on a plate, and a bowl of boiled black beans beside them.
Wade, who was arranging cutlery, looked up as Harry entered. “What’d they give you for breakfast today?”
“Look,” Harry said, holding up the thin carrot like a trophy. He took a sharp bite, crunching off half of it in one go.
“Just… that?” Sirius Black snapped, frowning.
Harry shrugged. “Dudley only got two carrots too—though his were slightly thicker. Aunt Petunia’s never been this fair before!”
“That whale of a boy definitely needs to lose weight. Otherwise, he’ll end up dying from obesity. But you—you’re as thin as a stick! What are you starving yourself for? This is abuse!”
Sirius was still furious.
Remus Lupin’s approach was more direct. He slid two more slices of roast bread onto Harry’s plate. “Eat more. There’s plenty more if you need it.”
Harry happily filled his stomach, then crunched through another carrot.
Remus watched Harry’s carefree expression, a soft smile tugging at his lips. But his eyes betrayed a flicker of worry. He glanced sideways at Sirius Black, who shared the same unspoken dread.
They both knew Voldemort had returned—and was once again targeting Harry. The weight of that knowledge pressed heavily on their hearts. But neither let it show. They carried on as usual, joking and laughing.
“Wade,” Harry said, “what’s the plan today? Aunt Petunia forgot to assign me chores this morning—I’ve got all day.”
“Shopping,” Wade replied. “In a few days, I’m visiting Nicolas Flamel. I want to pick out a suitable gift for the meeting.”
“Oh, shopping…” Harry grimaced, his expression pained. Remus’ gaze darkened for a split second.
The last time Wade had gone shopping, he’d been kidnapped. The memory still haunted both of them.
“Be careful what you buy,” Sirius warned. “Nothing too expensive. It might cause awkwardness.”
“I haven’t decided yet,” Wade sighed. “What magical artifact hasn’t Flamel seen? Muggle gifts are beautifully crafted, sure—but they lack sincerity. I thought I’d wander Diagon Alley and see what strikes me.”
Since the kidnapping, the Grays had stopped casually visiting places like Diagon Alley. They didn’t want to become targets—nor did they want to be used as leverage against Wade. That was precisely why he’d come here today: buying a gift required some elder guidance.
Harry asked, “Why don’t you make one yourself? The Christmas gift you gave me last year was amazing. That little flying broomstick still zips around the room.”
Ron had said toys with such a long magical lifespan were rare.
“Well…” Wade rubbed his chin, a little embarrassed. “Nicolas Flamel is a titan in alchemy. If I handed him something I made, it’d be like a middle school student handing in their family assignment as a gift. It’d scream ‘inadequate’ from every angle.”
He mumbled his thoughts aloud, and the three of them burst into laughter.
Harry turned to Remus. “Even though he didn’t mention me, I still feel like I just got mocked.”
“Wade… Wade…” Remus chuckled, shaking his head. “Excessive humility is arrogance. You’re selling yourself short.”
Sirius Black, for once, sounded serious. “I remember there are some rare alchemy manuscripts in the basement of my home. Even Flamel might not have seen them. You can use them as reference.”
After a brief rest, they moved on to Grimmauld Place.
The Black Family Manor no longer looked like the crumbling ruin it once was. Now, it stood ancient yet spotless, the air clean and still. Kreacher, the house-elf, stood at the entrance, wrapped in a fresh tea towel, bowing respectfully as the guests arrived.
Though he still despised werewolves, half-bloods, and Muggles, Kreacher had learned—after everything—to treat Wade and the others with cautious politeness.
He poured hot tea for the group, even adding an extra sugar cube for the two minors. When he returned with the tray, he suddenly noticed Sirius Black leading the others toward the basement. His face twisted slightly.
“Spendthrift… Master is such a spendthrift… Is he planning to give away the family’s centuries-old collection again? No! Kreacher must protect the Black Family Manor’s treasures! Kreacher… Kreacher must stop him!”
The house-elf paced in circles, torn between loyalty and instinct. Finally, unable to resist the lifelong duty instilled in him, he dashed after them, tray in hand.
The Black family home, like all ancient wizarding houses, concealed secret chambers. At the end of the corridor, the basement looked like a simple kitchen, with a cupboard hiding Kreacher’s own nest. But if you tapped the bricks beside the kitchen in a specific pattern, a hidden entrance would appear—a secret library.
Kreacher arrived just in time to see the group hadn’t begun looting the library. Harry wandered the corridors, curious but not daring to touch any of the ancient books. Remus was studying a volume on werewolf magic. Wade, meanwhile, had found the exact book he wanted—and cast a Replication Charm with a flick of his wand.
Kreacher, still flustered, managed to regain his composure, smiling politely as he served tea. When he reached the last cup, he noticed his master was unusually quiet.
He hurried over and saw Sirius Black holding an old, strange book bound in human skin. The expression on his face was terrifying—so intense, it reminded Kreacher of the old master before he died.
The little sprite trembled, whispering, “Master… would you like tea?”
Sirius looked up, then shoved the book back into the shelf. “Kreacher. Never go near that book. Never look at it.”
Kreacher, who couldn’t have touched it anyway, replied softly, “Yes, Master… Regulus Master used to say the same thing…”
“Regulus?” Sirius paused, stunned. Then it clicked. “Of course. He knew… He must have read it.”
A complex mix of grief and regret crossed Sirius’s handsome face. As he stepped away from the bookshelf, a single word echoed in his mind—clear and sharp, like a knife through fog.
[Horcrux]
(End of Chapter)
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