This was an unimaginable mess—two house-elves were wrestling in the dust.
An ugly house-elf twisted Dobby's ear, yelling incessantly, "Thief! Scum! You took the young master's things!"
"Kreacher, stop!" Sirius Black appeared in the doorway like a ghost, glaring impatiently at the elf. The hideous elf immediately released poor Dobby—whose neat little clothes were now covered in dust.
Kreacher reluctantly bowed deeply to his master, his large nose flattened on the ground.
"Stand up straight when you speak," the man said, his gaunt face filled with weariness. "What are you doing?"
"Kreacher caught the thief! He stole the young master's things!" Kreacher said angrily in a hoarse voice.
Draco glanced at it with annoyance—it was a very old-looking house-elf, naked except for a dirty rag around its waist, and its two large, bat-like ears were covered in clumps of white fur.
"Dobby is not a thief! Dobby is cleaning the sitting room for the esteemed Harry Potter at the behest of his master!" Dobby glared with his big, aggrieved eyes and argued shrilly, seemingly extremely unhappy about being mistaken for a "thief."
"That is right," Harry quickly told his godfather. "He was brought by Draco, and he just cleaned my bedroom…"
"Only Kreacher has the right to clean the mistress's house!" Upon hearing this, Kreacher became even more furious, displaying an insulted expression.
"You call that 'cleaning'?" Sirius said to Kreacher with a cold expression. "Do not think I do not know that every time you come out of your room, you pretend to clean, but actually you are secretly taking something back to your room so we cannot throw it away."
"It was not stealing, it was safekeeping! Kreacher would never take anything from the young master's house from its proper place! Kreacher was safeguarding the belongings of the noble mistress and the young master!" Kreacher gritted its teeth and bowed to Sirius again, its bloodshot eyes glaring fiercely at Dobby. "Unlike him, he took the young master's things, that filthy thief! The scum of the house-elves!"
Even though Draco did not want to talk to Kreacher, he could not help but feel offended by such a harsh rebuke.
It was accusing the Malfoys' house-elves, which, in essence, meant the Malfoys themselves. Draco, of course, was displeased. He looked at Dobby, "Did you take something?"
Dobby twitched his large ears indignantly, as if he had been deeply humiliated. "Dobby is a good elf and never does anything immoral! Dobby was just putting away some dangerous Dark magic items from the cabinet for the noble Harry Potter to deal with!"
He pulled out a thick, large bag from behind, opened it, and shook it to show it to everyone present. Draco glanced inside and saw a silver snuffbox, a particularly ugly tweezer-shaped silver utensil, a music box, a bunch of antique stamps, and a dusty souvenir box.
"Yes, it did not lie." Harry nodded to his godfather.
It did not actually steal anything; it was simply faithfully following the commands Draco gave it.
"You did a good job." Draco softened his tone, offering a gentle word of comfort.
Dobby tilted his head and looked up at him, looking somewhat uneasy, his eyes watery.
Now that the truth had come out, there was no need for further questioning. "All right, go back to your room. Do not show your face in the sitting room again without my permission," Sirius said sternly, giving Kreacher a disgusted look.
Kreacher dared not disobey the direct orders.
It cast a look of deep, piercing hatred at its master, then slunk away, muttering to itself, "The young master is not even worthy to shine the mistress's shoes! The noble mistress... what will she say if she sees Kreacher serving the young master? The young master is going to throw away the mistress and all his things; he will be so heartbroken. Kreacher must stop him..."
Draco watched coldly from the sidelines.
He would wager Kreacher must have secretly taken something when he left, something that seemed to be a large gold ring with the Black emblem on the coffee table.
"I think he has got a bit senile from old age; he is always saying nonsensical, crazy things," Sirius said to the two boys in the sitting room, softening his tone.
"Where is my mother?" Draco suddenly realised something was wrong with the number of people, and he glanced at Sirius.
"She has to go out for a bit, she will come and pick you up later to go home." Sirius tried to give him a kind smile, but his high cheekbones made the attempt less effective. "She asked me to tell you not to touch anything suspicious."
Draco glanced at him and nodded perfunctorily.
He wondered what his mother was up to.
How could she leave him alone at the Black mansion, given her temperament?
She left in such a hurry, without even saying goodbye, that she probably had something urgent to do.
"I have delivered the message; whether you listen or not is up to you." Sirius noticed Draco's distraction and assumed he was dissatisfied, so he casually added another sentence.
In his view, it was impossible for a normal boy of this age not to be interested in dangerous items.
Draco raised his eyebrows, no longer bothering to think about Narcissa's whereabouts, a feeling of astonishment rising in his heart.
Was this something a responsible parent should say? He felt that Harry's godfather was not much more reliable than Hagrid.
"Also, Draco, I have not formally thanked you yet. You captured Peter Pettigrew, which is tantamount to saving me." At this moment, Sirius's smile seemed much more sincere.
"You are welcome." Draco looked at the skinny young man and gave him a distant smile. "I just stumbled upon this by accident."
Narcissa did not know when she would be back. To pass the time, Draco patiently helped Harry comfort the sobbing Dobby.
Then, it continued its cheerful tidying up of the filthy sitting room for the great Harry Potter it spoke of. The other three people in the sitting room, who had nothing else to do, squatted in front of the large bag, curiously looking at the things that Dobby had defined as "extremely dangerous."
Sirius Black picked up a plain-looking souvenir box with a bored expression and looked at it, seemingly unable to open it at all. Draco followed suit and tried to open it, but was equally helpless with this heavy, dusty object.
It looked harmless, yet Dobby was quite certain that it contained extremely powerful magic. The house-elves were very sensitive to objects emanating magical energy, but Draco still doubted whether Dobby had misjudged it.
But then, Dobby's discernment was recognised by them. The ugly silver object Harry was holding suddenly crawled up his arm like a spider, trying to pierce his skin. Sirius, quick as lightning, snatched it away and grabbed a book—Draco recognised it as Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy—and smashed it.
This little scare actually sparked a hint of interest on Sirius's dejected face.
He tentatively touched the silver snuffbox in the corner of the bag, only to be bitten hard by it. Within seconds, an unsightly hard shell formed on his bony hand.
"It is nothing," he said, examining his hand intently. He tapped it lightly with his oak wand, and the skin returned to normal. "It must be Bulbadox Powder inside."
Draco gradually began to understand what Harry meant when he said his godfather was "cool".
It was hard not to like Sirius after spending some time with him. Lucius and Narcissa would never let him touch any Dark magic items, much less watch or learn from them—even though Lucius himself was a Dark magic item enthusiast.
Sirius, however, was different. He did not seem to be a fan of Dark magic items, yet he did not forbid the boys from touching them. "It is good to take a closer look. You chaps need to learn how to deal with these things, do you not?" he said lazily to Harry, casually knocking out a buzzing pixie with a book.
He was completely indifferent to these things. This made any curious boy feel relaxed and at ease, and quickly develop a liking for him.
Of course, Draco must admit that, in terms of his sense of responsibility in raising children, if he had not been exceptionally talented and adept at handling those Dark magical artefacts, his behaviour could easily have been labelled "arrogant and conceited."
But he had the right to be arrogant. Those dangerous Dark magic items were as obedient as insects in his thin hands, easily squeezed and moulded.
This was exactly what teenage boys idolised—the Weasley twins would absolutely adore him.
"Are you planning to throw them away?" Draco asked with interest, holding up the bag.
Dobby's diligent cleaning revealed a pile of rusty daggers, animal claws, a coiled snakeskin, a decorative crystal bottle filled with an unknown liquid, and a large number of dull, tarnished silver boxes.
"Of course, it is all useless now," Sirius said absentmindedly.
Draco noticed that he seemed to be thinking about something else. The evidence was that he was daydreaming as he tried to dispel the Dark magic from the old objects.
"Can you give it to me? I have a few friends who really enjoy tinkering with prank products," Draco asked, disregarding his usual reserve.
"Take them all, take them all." Sirius, preoccupied with his own thoughts, tossed a rather suspicious-looking music box back into Draco's bag, waved dismissively, and walked out of the chaotic sitting room filled with unconscious pixies, returning to his room.
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