"We'll talk later, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Sit down."

Harry sat down in the other armchair, trying not to look at the Dursleys, who seemed too frightened to speak.

"I thought you'd let me have something to drink,"

Dumbledore said to Uncle Vernon: "Now it seems that this expectation is ridiculously optimistic."

With the third wave of the wand, a dirty wine bottle and five glasses appeared in the air.

The bottle automatically turned sideways and filled each cup with honey-yellow liquid, and then the cups floated towards everyone in the room.

“Madame Rosmerta’s finest oak-ripened mead.”

Dumbledore said and raised his glass to Harry, who grabbed his own glass of wine and took a sip.

He had never tasted anything like it before, but he liked it so much that the Dursleys looked at each other in panic for a quick moment before running away from their cups.

This is not easy, because the cup keeps gently hitting their heads to remind them.

Harry couldn't help but wonder if Dumbledore was playing a prank on purpose.

"Okay, Harry," Dumbledore turned to him and said, "Now we have a problem that I hope you can help us solve.

When I say we, I mean the Order of the Phoenix, but first of all, I want to tell you that Sirius's will was discovered a week ago, and he left everything he owned to you."

Uncle Vernon on the sofa turned his head, but Harry didn't look at him and couldn't think of what to say, so he just replied: "Really?"

"It's basically quite simple," Dumbledore continued, "you have a large amount of gold added to your Gringotts account, and you have inherited all of Sirius' personal belongings.

There’s something problematic about the legacy…”

"His godfather is dead?"

Dumbledore and Harry both turned to look at Mr. Dursley.

The cup of mead was now knocking relentlessly on Vernon's head, and he was trying desperately to drive it away.

"He's dead? His godfather?"

"Yes."

Dumbledore did not ask Harry why he did not tell the Dursleys about this.

"The question now is,"

He continued to Harry, as if he had not been interrupted, "Sirius has also left you No. 12 Grimmauld Place."

"Left him a house?"

Uncle Vernon said greedily, his little eyes narrowed, but no one paid him any attention.

Don’t have money to read novels? I’ll give you cash or coins, and you can get it for one day only! Follow the public account [] and get it for free!

"You can keep it as the headquarters."

Harry said, "I don't care, you can use it, I don't really need it."

Whenever possible, Harry never wanted to step foot into 12 Grimmauld Place again.

He felt that he would never forget that Sirius once wandered alone in those dark and musty rooms, imprisoned in the place that he longed to leave day and night.

"That's so generous."

Dumbledore said, "However, we have temporarily evacuated the house."

"Why?"

"That's right,"

Dumbledore ignored Uncle Vernon's mumbling and continued: "The tradition of the Black family stipulates that the house is passed down from generation to generation to the next male named Black.

Sirius was the last descendant of his family, as his brother Regulus died before him, and neither of them had any children.

Although his will clearly stated that he would leave the house to you, there may have been some magic or spell cast on the place to ensure that no one who was not a pure-blood could occupy it."

An image flashed through Harry's mind, which was the portrait of Sirius' mother screaming and yelling in the hall of No. 12 Grimmauld Place.

"It must be that."

"Yes," said Dumbledore, "if there is such a curse, then the ownership of this house will probably belong to the oldest living person in the Black family, that is, Sirius's cousin, Bella

Trix Lestrange."

Before Harry realized what he was doing, he jumped up and rolled the binoculars and sneakers on his legs to the ground.

Sirius' killer, inherit his house?

"No!"

"Yeah, we sure don't want her to get it either."

Dumbledore said calmly, "The situation is quite complicated. The ownership of the house no longer belongs to Sirius, and we don't know about some of the magic we cast on it, such as making it unable to be plotted on a map, etc., and we still don't care about it now."

use.

Bellatrix will show up at the door at any moment, so we have to move out and wait until the situation is clearer."

"But how can you figure out if I can have it?"

"Fortunately," said Dumbledore, "there is a simple test."

He placed the empty glass on the small table beside his chair, and before he could do anything else Uncle Vernon shouted, "Can you get these damn things away from us?"

Harry turned around and saw that the three Dursleys were all protecting their heads with their arms, because their glasses were jumping up and down against their heads, and the wine in them was spilling everywhere.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

Dumbledore said politely, raised his wand again, and the three glasses disappeared in an instant.

"But you know, it's more elegant to drink it."

It seemed that Vernon couldn't help but want to say a few ugly words in retaliation, but he just huddled into the sofa cushions with Petunia and Dudley, saying nothing, staring at Dumbledore's wand with his little pig eyes.

"You see," said Dumbledore, turning to Harry and continuing as if Uncle Vernon had never spoken, "if you do inherit that house, you will also inherit -"

He waved his wand for the fifth time, and with a loud crack, a house elf appeared. He had an upward protruding nose, a pair of large bat-like ears, and a pair of bloodshot eyes like copper bells.

Wearing dirty rags, he was squatting on the Dursleys' plush carpet.

Aunt Petunia let out a hair-raising scream, and Dudley quickly lifted his big pink bare feet off the floor, almost above his head, as if he was afraid the monster would follow him.

The legs of the pajamas seemed to be climbing up.

Uncle Vernon yelled, "What the hell is that?"

"Kreacher." Dumbledore continued what he had just said.

"Kreacher doesn't want it, Kreacher doesn't want it, Kreacher doesn't want it!"

The house elf said hoarsely, his voice almost as high as Uncle Vernon's, while stamping his long, wrinkled feet and tugging at his big ears: "Kreacher belongs to the Black family.
Chapter completed!