The banquet at Number 12 Grimmauld Place was simple and crude. There was no grand hall, no dazzling formal attire, and even the guests who came were a bunch of strange and unusual people.
The only thing worth mentioning at the scene was the Black family's rather high-quality collection of wines.
As for these drinks, Link wasn't really interested.
After the disastrous incident last year, when overdrinking had caused his mental and magical powers to spiral out of control and left him bedridden, the trauma still lingered deeply in his mind.
However, Sirius and the Weasley twins seemed to take great delight in the idea of getting Link drunk.
Using the excuse that Link was now of age and that they had to "thank" him, they poured him drink after drink.
They made their intentions far too obvious, but Link only smiled without saying a word.
What surprised him, though, was that Hermione, who normally would've been the first to oppose young wizards drinking, also quietly poured him a few glasses herself, clearly wanting him to drink more.
Out of consideration for Hermione, Link finally stopped refusing the toasts from Sirius and the Weasley twins. He accepted every glass that came his way, draining each one dry.
That made Sirius and the twins absolutely ecstatic.
They'd long held grudges against Link. Since they couldn't beat him head-on, getting him drunk and embarrassing him seemed like a perfect opportunity.
But they overlooked one crucial thing.
Link had studied under Snape, and his potion-making skills were extraordinary, on par with, if not better than, an official Potions Master.
And for a potion expert, things like anti-intoxication draughts were as basic as it got.
So, after an afternoon of wild celebration, nearly all the adult wizards who'd joined in were passed out drunk. Link, meanwhile, only had a faint flush on his face and swayed slightly on his feet, as if he might fall over at any moment.
Unfortunately for Sirius and the others, no one believed Link would actually collapse, he'd been "on the verge of falling" for hours now.
"Y-you… you cheated…"
With that mumble, Sirius, the last one still standing, collapsed onto the floor.
Link chuckled twice, and with Hermione and Mrs. Weasley's help, returned to the guest room that had long been prepared for him.
Sirius and the others were left in Harry and Ron's care.
As for whether Harry and Ron actually knew how to take care of people, or what kind of state they'd leave the others in, Hermione and Mrs. Weasley didn't bother to worry.
In their eyes, drunks who forced others to drink didn't deserve good treatment.
"Hermione, I'll leave helping him change clothes and so on to you. I have to check on the others outside, before those drunkards get themselves killed by Harry and Ron."
After laying the now-unconscious Link on the bed, Mrs. Weasley said this with a grin.
Hermione's face instantly turned bright red. She lowered her head and stammered, "I… I can't… Maybe let Harry do it instead, they're all boys, it'd be easier that way."
Mrs. Weasley stopped in her tracks, turned back, and said softly, half exasperated, "Hermione! Good men are rare in this world, men who are both compatible with us and exceptional are one in a million! As girls, when we meet such a man, we must be brave enough to go after him!"
"But… he already has a fiancée…"
Hermione twisted her sleeves in her hands, her blush spreading up to her eyes, which glistened as if tears might fall at any moment.
Seeing this, Mrs. Weasley stepped forward and took Hermione's hand.
"So what? They're not married yet, are they? Listen to me, you don't need to do anything else. Just help him change into a nightgown, and then tomorrow let him know what happened. That way… hehe…"
Hermione's head shot up, eyes wide with shock.
Of course she understood exactly what Mrs. Weasley was implying. She was just stunned that Mrs. Weasley, of all people, could be so cunning, so unlike her usual self.
"Don't look at me like that. This is a kind of wisdom every woman should have. How do you think I managed to marry into the Weasley family? Arthur may be unreliable and not particularly capable, but the Weasleys are still one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight families. His parents were very hard to deal with."
After saying that, Mrs. Weasley gave Hermione an encouraging look and left the room, closing the door behind her.
The room instantly fell silent.
Hermione stood frozen, glancing at Link through lowered lashes, her expression full of hesitation and inner struggle.
But that hesitation didn't last long before determination replaced it.
After all, Hermione was a true Gryffindor, courage guided everything she did.
She slowly approached Link's bedside, gazed down at his sleeping face, whispered something under her breath, and finally reached toward the buttons on his shirt.
At that moment, she could feel her heart pounding furiously, hot blood rushing through her veins, filling her with an almost uncontrollable excitement and nervous thrill.
But the very next second, that thrill turned to terror.
Because before her hand even touched him, a hideous snake's head burst out from Link's collar, hissing and baring its fangs at her in warning.
"Ah!"
Hermione screamed instinctively, but quickly clapped a hand over her mouth, terrified that the people downstairs might hear.
The shock was so sudden that her whole body trembled. Tears spilled uncontrollably from her eyes as she turned and fled the room in panic.
"Hissssss~"
Arkam let out a pleased hiss. Scaring people had become one of its few hobbies, right up there with eating sugary treats.
Still, even in its delight, it didn't forget the command Link had given it.
Slithering fully out of Link's collar, it transformed into a massive python and coiled itself protectively on the bed.
Its message was clear, no one was allowed to come near Link.
But just as it got into position, the door suddenly burst open again.
It was Hermione.
Her eyes still glistened with tears, but she was holding a massive frying pan. Storming into the room, she swung it down hard on Arkam's head before it could react, slamming its skull into the floor.
"Stupid snake!"
She spat the words angrily, then stormed back out.
That was a Gryffindor girl for you, fierce as they come.
"Hisssss! (Damn monkey! You're the stupid one! You're the stupid one!)"
Only then did Arkam, dizzy and dazed, realize what had happened. It roared in fury and was about to slither out to retaliate, but just then, a strong wave of alcohol-scented air spread from behind it.
Link, having purged all the alcohol from his body with potions, opened his slightly bloodshot eyes and hissed softly in Parseltongue, "Hiss." (Come back.)
Hearing that, Arkam's tense body froze.
It turned its crimson eyes toward Link, stared at him for a long moment, then pitifully buried its head against his chest, nudging at his face as if to ask him to check whether it really did smell bad.
Of course, Arkam didn't smell bad.
Link would never allow a filthy snake to crawl all over him. He cleaned both Arkam and the yo-yo snake almost every day, keeping their scales bright and spotless, inside and out.
Especially after being woken up several times by Arkam's bad breath, he'd even added tooth-brushing to their routine, a task both snakes utterly despised.
That was why Arkam looked so aggrieved now.
It had made so many sacrifices to stay clean, only to be called a "stupid snake."
Seeing Arkam's pitiful face, Link could only sigh, pull its head into an embrace, and drift back to sleep.
———
Three hours later, Link opened his eyes again.
The sky outside the window was pitch-black, and Number 12 Grimmauld Place had gone completely silent, everyone, including Hermione and Mrs. Weasley, had gone to bed.
Pushing away the coils of Arkam wrapped around him, Link scanned the dark room, then snapped his fingers in the air.
"Kreacher."
"Yes, honored guest, I'm here."
A raspy voice sounded as the old, ugly house-elf Kreacher slowly emerged from a shadowy corner.
He bowed his head deeply, not daring to look at Link, his frail body trembling in the dark.
In fact, he had been waiting in the room ever since Link came in, ready to respond to any order.
That was, after all, what a house-elf did best.
And because of that, he had witnessed firsthand how Link had commanded Arkam in Parseltongue.
That scene had brought back many bad memories for Kreacher.
He was terrified.
If it hadn't been for the portrait of Sirius's mother ordering him to properly serve this distinguished guest, he would have run away long ago.
Link could clearly see Kreacher's fear, but he didn't care.
Calmly, he got out of bed, smoothed out his wrinkled clothes, and said softly, "Kreacher, come closer."
"Y-yes, honored guest."
Kreacher stammered as he shuffled toward Link, his trembling growing worse with every step.
It was because Arkam had also woken up, rising behind Link and staring down at Kreacher like a predator watching its prey.
After a painfully slow shuffle, Kreacher finally stood before Link.
He forced a stiff smile. "M-master… guest… what is your command?"
Link didn't answer. He simply drew his wand.
"Imperio!"
A hazy mist burst forth instantly.
Kreacher's face twisted in terror, but as the mist surrounded him and seeped through his nose and mouth, his facial muscles relaxed completely. His expression went blank, neither sad nor happy, his eyes dull and vacant.
"Give me Regulus Black's relic."
At those words, Kreacher's expression flickered slightly but soon went slack again. He turned and began to stagger toward the door.
Seeing this, Link followed quickly, a satisfied smile appearing on his face.
For a stubborn old house-elf like Kreacher, Link had never planned to waste time trying to reason with him.
That would have been far too slow. That locket had been bought with Regulus's life, there was no way Kreacher would hand it over willingly.
So instead, he went straight to the Imperius Curse.
Following Kreacher through several turns, Link finally arrived at a tightly closed door.
A delicate plaque hung on it, neatly inscribed with, [Do Not Enter Without Permission—R.A.B.]
"Phew."
Letting out a slow breath, Link knew he'd found his destination.
He brushed aside Kreacher, who was fumbling for the doorknob, and with a flick of his wand, click, the lock sprang open.
Crossing the threshold, Link stepped onto the dust-covered floor and looked around.
Regulus's bedroom was smaller than the one Link had just slept in, but even after more than ten years, Link could still sense its former grandeur.
Everywhere he looked were the silver and green colors of Slytherin, covering the bed, the windows, and the walls.
The Black family crest and their motto, "Toujours Pur," were finely painted on the headboard.
Below it, a collage of yellowed newspaper clippings had been pasted together in uneven shapes.
Link stepped closer to inspect them, and realized they were all reports about Voldemort.
The articles covered everything, his rise, his peak of power, and his descent from a man with extreme but ambitious ideals into a complete madman.
Carefully, Link gathered the clippings and placed them into his magically expanded pocket, he found them quite interesting.
After that, he noticed several photo frames on the bedside table.
Wiping the dust from the glass, he saw photos of Regulus in Slytherin Quidditch robes, flying and laughing on the field.
He had dark hair and the same proud expression as Sirius, almost identical, in fact.
The only difference was that Regulus wasn't quite as handsome as Sirius had been in his youth, but not by much. After all, centuries of the Black family marrying beautiful spouses had done wonders for their genes.
Putting the frame back in place, Link began searching for the Slytherin locket.
Blue light flashed in his eyes as he activated his sensory spell, channeling his immense mental power from his brow and sweeping the entire room from top to bottom.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
———
Link's brows furrowed deeper and deeper.
There was nothing here resembling Slytherin's locket.
He turned toward Kreacher, the blue in his eyes shifting to crimson.
At the same time, Arkam slithered in from outside, coiling itself into a massive circle around Link, amplifying his terrifying aura.
But Kreacher remained completely unfazed, his face blank and serene.
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