A Certain Hogwarts Magician Professor

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The next day, Sirius Black woke up from the bed, his head dizzy, it felt like Kreacher knocked on his head for a long time, and his headache was about to split.

"Although I know it is the consequence of the abuse of Apparition, I always suspect it is related to Kreacher's constant nagging!"

Sirius came to the dilapidated bathroom and washed in the mirror with suspicious dark red marks. He cleaned up his hair again and shaved off the dirty beard. When he took a bath, the mirror in the bathroom said: "You look like a piece of moving ribs."

He closed the curtain angrily, and the bad memories of living here seemed to suddenly come back.

Half an hour later, he turned over the moldy clothes from the old closet, replaced the dirty old clothes that were tattered into strips of cloth, and the whole person looked decent.

But he carefully digs out a tattered piece of old paper from his pocket, which looks crumpled after being soaked in water yesterday. He tried to spread it out, trying not to spoil the moving photo above: it was the award-winning photo of Ron Weasley's family, with a fat mouse standing on Ron's shoulder.

He stared at the photo blankly, then turned and left.

"Kreacher, help me prepare a breakfast." Sirius shouted outside the house. After thinking about it, he added: "Don't spit, don't make it taste bad on purpose, don't..." he said A string of conditions.

Kreacher bowed deeply, cursed and left.

Sirius took the time to go outside again. He looked around for a long time and found no suspicious figure, but saw a Muggle aunt who got up early to buy vegetables.

"Maybe he's gone." Sirius thought to himself. He closed the door, and the silver snake door knocker slammed on the mottled black door with a "bang", and he was quiet for a few seconds. Nothing happened. .

"It always feels wrong..." he thought.

But he couldn't find anything strange. He sniffed his nose, and there was still a damp, gray and corrupt smell in the air. Everything from the hall to the corridor looked gloomy, his sight was in. The peeling wallpaper, the carpet with frayed ash, and the magic chandelier glowing overhead.

Everything is business as usual.

Even the portraits hanging crookedly on the wall are very quiet today, quiet...?

Sirius looked closely at the characters in the portrait. They seemed to be asleep. He got closer, stood in front of a portrait of an ancestor that may have a glorious history in the Black family, and knocked on the outer frame.

The nobleman with long curly hair dragged to his waist leaned on the chair and snore slightly.

Suddenly, Sirius felt as if a piece of ice had been stuffed in his stomach, cold, and constantly twitching, and his forehead began to hurt. He suddenly became nervously active, walked to a curtain in several strides, and pulled it abruptly.

Behind the curtain is a huge portrait of an old woman. Her face is thin and her cheekbones are high and bulging. She resembles Sirius at this time. Although she doesn't want to admit it, this is his mother.

Yesterday, the very active old woman who had been arguing with him for a long time was sleeping soundly. She didn't suddenly jump up and yell at him as a "dirty and sinful sinner". Her saliva wetted half of her clothes.

Sirius turned back to the room, his wand was in his hand, and his heart settled a little, "Maybe it was to scare myself." He started from the ground floor and searched room by room. To prevent accidents, he called Kreacher back.

"If that man appeared yesterday, don't ask me, take me out of here immediately." Sirius warned the house elf.

Kreacher looked reluctant. He muttered in a voice that Sirius could definitely hear: "I ran away from home for more than ten years, but the prodigal son ordered the old Kreacher to be killed. I heard that he also killed someone..."

"Shut up!" Sirius growled low.

"Crunch—"

Sirius held the wand in one hand, the tip of the wand was shining slightly, and the spell was ready to be cast. With the other hand, he turned the snake-like handle and the door opened. He waited for two seconds, and took a sharp look at it. There was no one inside.

Kreacher hunched, dragged his feet, and looked around his legs, "Nothing. The prodigal master has been imprisoned for more than ten years, and even the spirit is not normal. Oh, poor mistress, if she knows about it, I don't know what to think. Poor old Kreacher..."

Sirius said angrily: "She is fine. I had a quarrel with me yesterday. I slept soundly at night and drooled all over the floor."

They went all the way up, the old plank ground was in disrepair for a long time, and it had been hollowed out by insects. When they stepped on it, they made a creaking sound, and Sirius couldn't help but lift it up.

"It seems to be back to the war years." He muttered, but his eyes were filled with excitement.

His movements are more concise and efficient. Every time he opens the door, he checks the door handle to see if there are any signs of being used. After checking the dining room, storage room, and bedroom on the second floor, nothing happens. He feels tense. Some relax.

Even when he ran into an old ghoul in the toilet on the second floor, he was still in the mood to joke: "Your ugly face is not the worst I have ever seen. Azkaban is the place where the demons and ghosts are concentrated, although I count myself as one..."

At the entrance of the study on the third floor, although Sirius was still cautious in his actions, he was no longer so vigilant in his heart, and he opened the door and walked in. The study was empty and brighter, and he saw the old, worm-eyed bookshelves against the wall with rusty silver and green decorations.

Behind the heavy desk is a high-backed armchair. He remembers that when he was a child, his father liked to stay here most, but every time he approached, he would be reprimanded.

"Whizzing!"

"What Dong—"

The candle stand at the door suddenly became active and twisted and twisted around Sirius. His hand holding the wand was bent to one side. Sirius struggled, but the candle stand looked like a living person and broke his fist abruptly. Now, the wand fell to the ground and couldn't move after turning a few times.

Sirius' chest heaved violently, gasping for breath, and in the aftermath he caught a glimpse of Kreacher being tied up, and the sound of books turning pages came from behind the high chair behind the desk.

He roared out a name very angrily: "Felix Haip."

The chair turned around, revealing Felix's figure. Holding a book with a black cover in his hand, he carefully turned over a page that was as crisp as a cracker, and said without looking up: "Slightly Wait—I see the key point."

"Kreacher..." Sirius said lowly.

Kreacher seemed to figure out the situation. His figure was illusory for a moment, and he wanted to use movement magic, but he was imprisoned in the next second.

Sirius wanted to continue talking, but the sharp end of the silver candle holder approached his mouth and made a silent threat. He could only stare at him, as if he was going to kill Felix with his eyes.

The study was quiet for ten minutes, and the whole room was only the sound of Sirius gasping. Just when he felt his wrist was strangled and unconscious, Felix closed the book "The Secret of Cutting-edge Black Magic", and he sighed and said, "It's extremely evil...I don't want to eat breakfast anymore."

Sirius couldn't help but said mockingly: "This is not like your... teacher. Snape loved these things when he was young."

"Who doesn't have any hobbies yet?" Felix replied evasively.

Sirius was silent slightly, and raised his head to stare at Felix, "How did you get in?"

Felix smiled and said, "I got a little help from the Black family."

"Impossible!" Sirius retorted, "Although I don't want to admit ~www.novelmt.com~, I am the only descendant of the Black family. Only I can come in."

Felix glanced at Kreacher.

"He... he is different..."

"That's right!" Kreacher said proudly. "Old Kreacher has served the ever noble Black family for generations, for generations!" Then he glanced at Sirius maliciously, "Not counting the current master," It's nothing but blood, but poor Kreacher can't help it..."

Sirius glared at him, strangling him.

Felix stood up and examined the wound on Sirius' forehead. "Potter's scar is on the right, and yours is the opposite. It's strange, is it a coincidence?"

"you--"

Sirius stared, he was not worried about his safety anymore. He intuitively believed that Felix would not kill him, but he also discovered that Felix was more hateful than Snape-his words More power.