Chapter 175: Sirius's Invitation
"Actually, Lady Addams," Sirius raised his hand, "if you don't mind, I'd like to invite Russell and Wednesday to spend the holidays at my place."
He paused, then added, "Harry will be there as well."
"If Russell and Wednesday are willing, then I have no objections," Morticia Addams said. "It sounds like a fine idea."
"I'm fine with it," Russell shrugged. "Though I don't know about Wednesday. Why don't you tell us a bit about your house?"
"That's… a bit difficult," Sirius admitted awkwardly. "I can't really think of anything about the Black family home that would appeal to young girls."
"It hasn't been maintained in years, so it's rather messy—dust everywhere. You'll probably have to help clean a bit. It's filled with old, antique objects… very dark, very gloomy. Honestly, you might even find a murder weapon lying around somewhere…"
"Is that true?" Wednesday's eyes lit up.
"…Yes?" Sirius nodded, confused.
"I'm going," she said firmly, nodding with absolute certainty.
Sirius was left speechless.
Are girls these days… into this kind of thing?
"Of course I'm going!" Harry Potter said excitedly. There was no way he wanted to return to the Dursleys' house—otherwise, he'd be stuck staying at Hogwarts.
Now that he had another option, he couldn't have been happier.
"Can we come too?" Ron and Hermione Granger asked, gathering their courage.
Ron had already planned to stay at Hogwarts with Harry instead of going home, while Hermione—who had intended to return home—found herself intrigued the moment she heard Sirius's invitation.
After all, visiting the home of an ancient wizarding family sounded fascinating. She might even find books there that the Hogwarts library didn't have.
"Of course—you're all welcome," Sirius smiled. The more people there were at Christmas, the livelier it would be.
___
Harry huddled on the steps, wrapped in one of Dudley's old winter coats. His breath fogged the air, leaving faint frost patterns on the brass number plate of 12 Grimmauld Place.
Because the house was located in a Muggle neighborhood—merely hidden by a Muggle-Repelling Charm—they were all dressed in Muggle clothing.
Harry hadn't had time to buy anything new, so he was still wearing his old clothes.
Ron was much the same—
Though the coat he wore was noticeably even older and more worn than Harry's.
Hermione was easily the most fashionably dressed—her down coat was clearly the latest style.
As for Russell and Wednesday, their physiques were strong enough that they barely felt the cold at all—something the other three couldn't help but envy.
The invisible doorway nestled between numbers 11 and 13 slowly revealed itself under the tip of Russell's wand.
Following Sirius's instructions, he poured a vial of blood onto the door knocker.
The bricks twisted backward into a swirling vortex, and the ebony door burst open with a heavy creak—carrying with it a pungent mix of camphor and something far less pleasant… like doxy droppings.
Above the doorway, the gilded Black family motto was peeling away. Fresh graffiti glimmered faintly in the winter light:
"Padfoot & Prongs were here — 1975", followed by a pair of crooked footprints.
The moment they stepped inside, they instinctively covered their noses.
The smell was overwhelming.
None of them could imagine how Sirius had managed to live here.
What they didn't know… was that compared to Azkaban, this place was practically paradise.
The living room was piled high with unopened Ministry compensation crates. A sloppy note in Sirius's handwriting was stuck to the largest one:
"For Harry."
Hermione Granger crouched down, examining the wax seals along the edges.
"This is Ministry express delivery," she said. "I read about it—it's likely compensation meant for Sirius."
The moment they lifted the lid—
A swarm of doxy hatchlings burst out, screeching.
Doxies were often mistaken for fairies, but they were entirely different creatures. Though humanoid in shape, they were tiny, covered in thick black fur, with an extra pair of arms and legs.
Their curved, shimmering wings resembled those of beetles.
"—Ventus!" Harry panicked, casting the cleaning charm Hermione had taught him. The gust of wind only scattered the doxies onto the chandelier.
Russell shoved him aside and calmly cast a freezing charm, instantly pinning the creatures in place against the crystal fixture.
Wednesday followed up, drawing her wand and neatly collecting the immobilized doxies into a small pouch.
"I'll keep them," she said matter-of-factly.
"…Charming little things."
"Careful," Russell warned. "Doxies have two rows of sharp, venomous teeth. If they bite you, you'll need an antidote."
He didn't stop her—though he couldn't help wondering how the creatures had managed to infest the place so thoroughly in such a short time.
Just as he turned, he noticed Harry heading toward the stairs.
"Don't touch the banister!"
Russell grabbed him just in time.
From between the railings on the second floor, a pale, bony hand suddenly reached out—
A portrait hung there, its subject's mouth sealed shut with magical tape. Long fingernails scratched violently against it, producing a shrill, muffled screech.
The witch in the painting looked gaunt, with sunken eyes. She wore a black velvet gown and a lace headdress, her expression twisted with fury and disdain.
She was Sirius's mother—Walburga Black.
With a violent tug, she finally tore the tape free—
And immediately began screaming.
"Filth! Disgrace to the family!"
It wasn't clear who she was addressing.
Her gaze swept over Harry and Russell… before settling on Russell. Strangely, her expression softened.
"I never expected that that disgrace would make friends with someone of such noble and ancient blood."
"…What?" Harry stared at Russell, stunned. "Aren't you Muggle-born?"
"Muggle-born?" Walburga laughed as if it were the most absurd thing she'd ever heard.
But before she could elaborate, Hermione stepped closer, curiosity written all over her face.
That was enough to set her off.
"Filthy Mudblood! You dare defile my ancestral home? Get out! Get out at once!"
Hermione froze, her face turning pale.
Russell frowned and tried to silence the portrait with magic—but it had no effect.
Just as he bent down to reattach the fallen magical tape—
A voice echoed from the fireplace.
"Starting without me, are you?"
With a burst of green flames, Sirius stepped out of the Floo Network, wrapped in a travel cloak. He looked unusually refreshed—clearly having enjoyed himself somewhere.
"The Ministry seals are real," he said, kicking one of the crates open and sending a stack of official documents spilling out. "I have to thank Russell—and Professor Albus Dumbledore again. Otherwise, I wouldn't have gotten out of that hellhole so soon."
With a flick of his wand, the curtains over Walburga's portrait snapped shut.
Her screams cut off instantly.
"…Sorry about that," Sirius said with a frown. "That's my mother. Stubborn, narrow-minded, completely obsessed with pure-blood ideology."
"Even with the family in decline… she never changed."