— Boy, are you sure we won't be seen? Aurors can be quite crafty, — the man peered around the corner, scrutinizing Grimmo Square. He felt like he was being ambushed everywhere, and if he made a wrong move, he'd be right back in the arms of the Dementors.
— Absolutely. — The Japanese man sighed heavily and shook his head, calmly walking out of the dark alley and towards the houses numbered eleven and thirteen. Sirius followed, remembering to look around the whole time. The Japanese man continued. — Just so you know, Mr. Black, even different clans have their own secrets, so it's not surprising that I have some... techniques to protect myself from unwanted attention. The boy nodded at a couple of men sitting on one of the benches discussing an article in a newspaper called "The Daily Prophet". They didn't look at them at all, nothing seemed to interest them except the conversation.
— Did you cast a spell on them? — Black wondered, craning his neck to see the two wizards at the post.
— Something like that.— the interlocutor and temporary accomplice shrugged, but the man was extremely interested in continuing the conversation for many reasons.
— And more details? We could use that kind of knowledge... — Black combined his glances with attempts to read his interlocutor, but this time he was unusually 'closed', so there was not much to recognize in his face or gestures.
— I don't know who you mean by 'we', and I don't care, but you should understand that not everyone is willing to share the secrets of the clan with all comers.
The Japanese man hadn't looked at Black when he answered, clearly seeing the house hidden by many protective charms and spells, and now studying it with undisguised interest, so Sirius didn't hold back and grimaced in disgust. He had heard such nonsense from his own family and from many of those the Black Family had been in contact with since he was a child. What was all this nonsense about 'family secrets' anyway? Everyone knows that only really dangerous knowledge can be kept secret, and that it's really worth hiding it from the general public, or someone like the Death Eaters will show up and then deal with them if they know more than the Auror sent to catch the intruder.
Well, you can't spread knowledge of dark magic, but you can't destroy it either, because then you don't know what you're fighting against, you don't know what to do. Otherwise it would be criminal to hide knowledge from people, and all sorts of "ancestral" libraries should be available to all comers, after security checks of course. No, in this particular case, the information should be kept for their own, for the Order, so that they can conduct operations in greater safety, and help would be added, because not everyone is a good fighter, and with such magic even the simplest housewife can become an excellent spy. Still, how selfish these pureblood fanatics are!
Thinking this over, Sirius walked up the steps of the hated house, grabbed the doorknob, but it opened by itself, revealing a large eye and part of a long nose in the small gap.
— Had that ungrateful traitor come home? What does he want in the house where he so offended the mistress? — gasped the elf.
— Open the door, you old fool. — Sirius decided not to react to the words of the old elf, who had completely inherited his mother's temper.
— The mistress will be very upset when she finds out who has come to the noble home of the greatest of the Black family. — The elf commented on the man's intrusion, then stopped abruptly and fell silent.
Sirius didn't immediately realize what had happened to the old elf, he was more concerned with the darkness and the general state of the house. It wasn't that he felt sorry for the house, not at all, he was worried that something very nasty might be brewing in the shadows of those dusty, cobweb-covered walls, and he was just beginning to regain his form, so he wasn't ready for a serious fight. When the angry muttering stopped, the man turned to look at the elf.
Old Kreacher stared at the Japanese man, who had taken a step into the room and remained there. The man himself was not immediately aware of his sensations, so he was not bothered by the elf's strange condition, but slightly interested, so he decided to examine his companion again — what if he had missed something? But no, he was still wearing the same disgustingly stylish clothes, strangely shaped boots, some kind of "sporty" or something, orange glasses, a hat and a stick in his left hand. Feeling that the strange silence was clearly lingering, Black was about to break the silence that had formed, when he himself began to feel something... something vague, barely perceptible, but felt.
The man was confused, for although these sensations were familiar to him, he could not identify their source — the memories kept slipping from his hands like eels. And after a few minutes, he began to feel a faint, cool breeze on his skin that did not touch his long hair or his clothes, but somehow felt like a draft. The breeze was coming from somewhere deep inside the house, as if even through the walls. But what confused the man was not that he remembered this feeling, so familiar from his childhood, but that he was beginning to feel a similar breeze, only coming from the doorway, and Sirius was somehow sure that this warm breeze was coming from the Japanese man who was staring into the darkness of the house.
It was almost impossible for someone who not only didn't understand it all, but had never realized what had been with him since birth, to make sense of the sensations and feelings that came with it. It was all confusing, disturbing.
— The black family will live... — Kreacher muttered, not taking his eyes off his guest.
The Japanese man shifted his gaze to the elf, raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised, but not clear about what.
— Who cursed your house, Elf? — Hoshino asked suddenly, returning to the study of the interior, and the flow of heat began to dispel the old darkness of the ancient walls, so that the shadows were not so thick and the dust swirling in the air was no longer an impenetrable barrier.
— Kreacher is an evil elf! — The old servant and slave lowered his head, shaking his long ears. — He realized it too late, and then there was nothing to be done... and mistress... — the elf seemed to cry, making Sirius almost gasp in shock.
— Even if you're dead, there are still possibilities. — The Japanese replied calmly, grinning slightly, making the man's spine tingle in anticipation of something strange. — But unfortunately, without knowledge, these options are not feasible. — The boy nodded and shifted his gaze to the elf. — Take me to the portrait of your beloved.
— This way, savior of the black family. — The elf bowed low and pointed down the corridor.
Sirius was still trying to figure out what the old elf's words meant, so he didn't have time to react. First, the front door slammed noisily on its own, drawing the man's attention back to it, and then he instinctively felt the danger, but he didn't have time to dodge it. A strip of paper rained down on his face, and as soon as it touched his skin, his body stopped feeling. Sirius Black, the last member of a once powerful and respected family, an heir unwilling to revive his own blood, slowly slumped backwards, only able to squint his eyes desperately. He didn't understand why the elf didn't even try to protect him when he should have, and he didn't understand why the Japanese reacted the way he did.
— You, elf, have a long tongue, and if I were your master, I would certainly teach you a lesson for being too talkative. — He said glumly, approaching the immobilized Sirius.
— But Master, you ungrateful offspring... — the elf began excitedly, but was immediately interrupted.
— You can feel it, can't you? Do you understand? But did it look like Sirius wanted to restore his own kind? — Sirius couldn't see it, but he noticed that the elf was clearly shaking his head. — By rights, Sirius should have played his part and not suspected anything until the very last moment, but since you can't keep your mouth shut, you'll have to adjust your plans.