The next day, Sirius Black woke up from the bed, his mind was drowsy, and it felt like Clicche had knocked his head for half a night, and his headache was about to crack.

"Although I know it is the consequence of abuse of phantom movement, I always suspect it is related to Clicher's chatter and chatter!"

Sirius came to the shabby toilet and washed up against the mirror with a suspicious dark red mark. He cleaned up his hair again and shaved off the dirty stubble. When he took a shower, the mirror in the bathroom said, "You look like a moving rib."

He pulled the curtain angrily, and the bad memories of living here in his early years seemed to come back all of a sudden.

Half an hour later, he took out moldy clothes from his old wardrobe and changed into dirty old clothes that were torn into strips of cloth, and his whole body looked decent.

But he carefully turned out a piece of ragged old paper from his pocket. It looked wrinkled after being soaked yesterday. He spread it out, trying not to destroy the moving photo above: it was a photo of the Ron Weasley family winning the grand prize, and a fat mouse stood on Ron's shoulder.

He stared at the photo with a blank expression, turned and left.

"Cliche, help me prepare a breakfast." Sirius shouted outside the house. After thinking about it, he added: "Don't spit, do not make it unpalatable on purpose, do not..." He said a bunch of conditions.

Kliche bowed deeply and left in a low voice.

Sirius took the time to go outside the door again. He looked around for a long time without finding a suspicious figure. Instead, he saw a Muggle aunt who got up early to buy groceries.

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

"I always feel something is wrong..." he thought.

But he couldn't find anything strange. He sniffed his nose, and there was still a tide of turbulence in the air, and everything from the hallway to the corridor seemed gloomy. His eyes were spinning on the peeling wallpaper, the gray carpet, and the magic chandelier with a glimmer of light above his head.

Everything is as usual.

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

Sirius looked at the characters in the portrait carefully. They looked asleep. He approached a little, stood in front of a portrait of an ancestor who might be a glorious history of the Black family, and knocked on the outside border.

The nobleman with long curly hair dragged all the way to his waist leaned against the chair and snored slightly.

Suddenly, Sirius felt like a piece of ice was stuffed into his stomach, cold and twitching, and his forehead began to hurt. He suddenly became nervous and moved, and he strode to a curtain a few times, and pulled it away suddenly.

Behind the curtain is a huge portrait. In the painting is an old woman with thin face and high cheekbones, which is somewhat similar to Sirius at this time. Although she doesn't want to admit it, this is his mother.

I had a quarrel with him for a long time yesterday. The very active old woman was sleeping soundly. She didn't suddenly jump up and scold him as a "dirty and sinful son". Her saliva wet half of her clothes.

Sirius returned to the room with his wand in his hand, and he felt a little calmer, "Maybe it was scaring himself." He started from the ground floor and searched one room by one. In order to prevent accidents, he called Clice back.

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

Kliche looked reluctant, and he muttered in a voice that Sirius could definitely hear: "I have been away from home for more than ten years, and the prodigal son ordered the old Kliche. I heard that he even killed someone..."

"Shut up!" Sirius growled.

"Cruff-"

Sirius held the wand in one hand, the tip of the wand was slightly shiny, the spell was ready to go, and the other hand turned the snake-shaped handle, the door opened, he waited for two seconds, and glanced cleverly, and there was no one inside.

Kliche bowed his back and shuffled his feet, looking around his legs, "There is nothing. The prodigal young master has been imprisoned for more than ten years, and he is not even mentally irritated. Oh, poor hostess, if she knew about it underground, I don't know what she would think. Poor old Kliche..."

Sirius said angrily: "She is fine. She just had a fight with me yesterday. She slept soundly at night and her saliva flowed all over the floor."

They went up, and the old wooden floor was disrepaired and had been eaten by insects. They stepped on it and made a squeaking sound. Sirius's heart couldn't help but lift it.

"It seems like I'm back in the war years," he muttered, but his eyes couldn't stop being excited.

His movements were more concise and efficient. Every time he opened the door, he would check the door handle to see if there were any signs of being used. After checking the restaurant, storage room, and the bedroom on the second floor, there was no situation. He felt a little relaxed.

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 concentration of demons and ghosts, although I am also one of them myself..."

At the entrance of the study room on the third floor, although Sirius was still cautious in his movements, he was no longer so alert. He pushed open the door and walked in. The study room was empty and the light was brighter. He saw the old wall-to-wall bookshelves full of insect eyes, with silver and green decorations on them rust.

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

"Swish!"

"What's the world--"

The candle shelf at the door suddenly moved, twisting and wrapping around Sirius. His hand holding the wand was bent to one side. Sirius struggled hard, but the candle shelf seemed like a living person, and he broke his fist apart, and the wand fell to the ground and could not move for a few times.

Sirius's chest was fluctuating violently and he gasped. He saw that Clice was tied up too, and the sound of books turning pages came from behind the high-backed chair behind the desk.

He roared out a name with great angriness: "Felix Happ."

The high quilt chair turned over, revealing Felix's figure. He held a black cover book in his hand, carefully turning over a page of crispy biscuit-like pages, and said without raising his head: "Wait - I've seen the key point."

"Cliche..." Sirius said in a low voice.

Kliche seemed to have figured out the situation, and his figure was illusory for a moment, trying to use movement magic, but was imprisoned the next second.

Sirius wanted to continue speaking, but the silver candle shelf was sharply approaching his mouth and threatened silently. He could only stare at him, as if he wanted to kill Felix with his eyes.

The study room was quiet for ten minutes, and there was only Sirius gasping in the whole room. Just as he felt his wrist being strangled and lost consciousness, Felix closed the book "Revealing the Secret of the Sharp Black Magic", and he sighed and said, "It's so evil... I don't want to have breakfast anymore."

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

"Who hasn't had a hobby yet?" Felix replied lightly.

Sirius was slightly silent, raised his head and stared at Felix, "How did you come in?"

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

"Impossible!" Sirius retorted: "Although I am unwilling to admit it, I am the only descendant of the Black family, and only I can come in."

Felix glanced at Clicche.

"He...he's different..."

"That's right!" Clicche said proudly: "Old Clicche has served the eternal noble Black family for generations, for generations!" Then he glanced at Sirius with malicious intentions, "Not the current master, he has nothing to do except blood, but poor Clicche has no choice..."

Sirius glared at him, and he had the heart to strangle him to death.

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

"you--"
Chapter completed!