aircannonsinc Chapter 162 Scarface Fire and Cloth
Chapter 162 Scarface Fire and Cloth
Chapter 163 (Day 10,000 words, requesting monthly votes) Scarface and Black
Picking up where we left off, the old woman in the portrait screamed so loudly that Blake's head was throbbing with pain, and he begged to kill his own mother.
Upon hearing this, Harry didn't hesitate any longer. He removed his black gloves and forced the venom from his arm into his fingers.
With a loud shout, he thrust his weapon straight at the four wooden boards surrounding the picture frame.
No sooner said than done. A hissing sound was heard, and white smoke suddenly rose. The whitewashed wall, stimulated by the poison, was instantly corroded into dust and fell down.
Upon seeing this scene, the old woman in the painting let out an even louder, more piercing cry.
"How dare you side with outsiders! You little bastard! You little beast! You little scoundrel!"
"I should have cast a fatal curse on my belly when I got pregnant with you!"
As the old woman was cursing fiercely, Harry, who had already etched the frame of the painting through, ripped it off with a mighty tug, pulled open the wardrobe beside him, and shoved it inside.
The cabinet door slammed shut, and most of the curses vanished instantly.
Blake had initially covered his ears with both hands, as if to ward off evil sounds. But now he seemed like a death row inmate who had been granted a pardon.
With a "thump," his knees slammed onto the floor, kicking up a little dust. He then raised his arms toward the ceiling, threw his head back, and laughed loudly, causing the dust accumulated on the beams to fall in a flurry.
"Hahaha!"
"I've finally gotten rid of that crazy woman!"
The pet elf beside them, seeing its mistress being thrown into the closet, its frog-like eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets, hissed:
"No! The mistress was subjected to such despicable and vile acts—"
"Get out of my way!"
Blake cursed, then leaped up like a black whirlwind, kicking the house-elf squarely in the chest, sending it flying backward like a kite with a broken string, crashing into the wall and squealing.
He exhaled another breath, his wrinkles smoothing out, dusted off the corner of his robe, and said loudly to Harry:
"Alright, let me show you around the second floor."
Harry reached up and picked at his ear, shaking his head and laughing. "This house of yours is really strange, even stranger than my brother Ron's Burrow."
"Oh, don't mind him, that guy's name is Kreacher, he's been brainwashed by my crazy mother."
"It's a good thing it's just a house-elf; if it were a wizard, it would definitely be Voldemort's most loyal Death Eater."
Seeing the hatred in his words, Harry asked in surprise, "The old lady and my godfather were mother and son by blood. How could she still act like this after passing away?"
Black shook his head and slumped down the stairs. "Ah, Harry, don't let my uprightness fool you, I'm a perfect Gryffindor."
"But you should know that my whole family are Slytherins."
Dear reader, please listen carefully: The Black family is one of the twenty-eight holy families in the wizarding world, and their ancestors also included the headmaster of Hogwarts.
Like the Malfoys, they were all Slytherins for generations, and were particularly fond of dark magic.
But when it came to Sirius's generation, things went completely wrong! This guy was a restless child, and he actually defied his ancestors and joined Gryffindor.
His mother, Volgab, was so angry that she was practically raging, cursing that her family had produced such a rebellious son.
From then on, Black's childhood was like Harry's; he never experienced the warmth of family and left home in a huff, going straight to James.
If he weren't the only remaining member of the Black family, and if he weren't the one who needed a stable home with Harry, even a grand procession wouldn't be able to get this reckless man to step foot inside the house again.
As Blake was recounting his story, he suddenly saw a dark shadow wriggling in the corner. It was Kreacher, who had somehow crawled back and was hoarsely croaking:
"That disgusting, traitorous young master is just like before, doing everything he can to slander the mistress..."
Before he could finish speaking, Blake suddenly sprang to his feet, delivering a powerful kick to the man's lower back, roaring:
"If you dare utter another word, your head will never have the chance to hang in the house like your ancestors!"
"Go buy groceries and cook now! I want to spend Christmas with Harry!"
Kreacher was kicked and rolled three times, his face turning a purplish-blue like a rotten eggplant. As he struggled to his feet, he muttered to himself.
"Kreacher is going to buy groceries to cook; maybe he should buy a bottle of poison and put it in the food."
"But Kreacher can't hurt his master. Oh, if only my little master were him..."
He fled, wailing and howling like a ghost. Harry, sensing something amiss, asked again, "And who is this 'he' that he's talking about?"
Frustrated, Blake ruffled his curly hair and sighed:
"Kreacher was talking about my brother Regulus, a Death Eater. Nobody knows how he died—I mean, if my brother were still alive, he would at least come home, wouldn't he?"
"My mom went half-crazy because of this incident, and ever since then, everyone who comes to the Blake mansion gets a scolding from her..."
Black recounted the old stories to Harry one by one, but when he spoke of his brothers, his voice softened, revealing that he still harbored some brotherly affection for them.
Upon hearing this, Harry, recalling his own family history, felt a pang of sorrow. Knowing the pain of losing a loved one, he simply listened quietly, without interrupting.
Before long, Kreacher returned from his shopping trip. Though his face was bruised and swollen, he was surprisingly quick and efficient, preparing a meal with a clanging and clattering sound. However, he continued to hurl insults and curses.
Seeing that the food and wine were ready, Blake took a deep breath, dispelling his gloom and his face lit up again.
He immediately stood up and kicked Kreacher, who was still muttering to himself, away. He then grabbed a bottle of brandy from the table, waved it in front of Harry, and laughed loudly:
"Would you like a shot of strong liquor?"
"But you can only drink a small glass, after all, you are still young, and you will get drunk if you drink too much."
Harry burst into laughter. "Why is Godfather acting like a womanizer! When heroes meet, they should be drinking heartily and eating heartily. What's the point of all this formality!"
After saying that, he pulled out the cork and started drinking straight from the bottle.
Black watched with wide eyes as Harry swallowed hard and downed half a bottle in an instant.
Not wanting Harry to look down on him, he immediately grabbed a bottle and chugged it down.
In the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, three or four empty bottles had rolled on the ground, and the dishes on the table remained untouched. Harry remained expressionless, but Black's eyes were already brimming with desire, and his tongue was trembling.
Kreacher scrubbed the floor, cursing through his teeth. Blake, his eyes glazed with drunkenness, didn't bother to argue, only mumbling:
"Hiccup~ Harry...you can really hold your liquor...even better than your dad..."
"Ah... I really miss him and Lily..."
Just as I was feeling sad, I suddenly heard a series of fluttering sounds outside the window, as if wings were flapping.
Kreacher stopped what he was doing and went to check, cursing under his breath.
"It must be those big, silly, feathered birds... The lady of the house hates them the most..."
"These things happened as soon as the young master, who colluded with the mud-blooded bastards, returned..."
A short while later, he turned back, muttering to himself, and handed a letter to Harry.
"It was a letter from Potter, but the sender was a cunning goblin, a bunch of liars, bastards..."
Harry had received a letter from Legnac delivering his share of the profits, but upon opening the sealing wax, he found a Gringotts emblem prominently displayed on it.
He read the letter and, enraged, cursed, "Damn it! What bad luck! On this Christmas holiday, this little devil has to ruin my drinking!"
Blake, his eyes blurry with drunkenness, looked up and asked, "Fairy, did the fairy write you a letter?"
"Is that the fairy who forged your sword? Has he come to beg for mercy?"
Harry shook his head and tossed the letter over. "Father, please excuse my rudeness. This is just another one of those Gringotts bastards trying to cut interest."
Upon hearing this, Blake sobered up somewhat and stared intently at the letter. After a short while, he suddenly tore the letter to shreds with a "rip," propped his head up on his elbow, and said:
"Fake."
"Harry, you need to know that you're a super-rich kid."
"Your parents left you at least tens of thousands of dollars worth of gold in Gringotts."
Harry cupped his hands in greeting and said, "To be honest, godfather, although my Curry was once a mountain of gold and silver, it has long since been gone like flowing water after two or three years of schooling."
Upon hearing this, Blake's arms went limp, and his head nearly hit the edge of the table. He struggled to his feet, his drunken eyes wide with surprise, and exclaimed:
"You've spent it all?!"
"You can't possibly hire ten Aurors to carry you to and from school every day, can you?"
"No, even if you did that, it shouldn't have been spent so quickly!"
Harry sighed and shook his head, saying, "Father, you don't know this. During festivals, the immortals from all walks of life prepare incense and offerings; the professors in the academy and the heroes who travel the martial world all need to pave the way with gold and silver for some social interactions."
"This person helps out once, that person passes on a message, which place doesn't require real money to bribe?"
"Hiss~"
Blake gasped, rubbing his face, and said, "So those Aurors really weren't affected by the Imperius Curse..."
He quickly took a sip of wine to calm his nerves and replied, "It's alright, the inheritance your parents left you is only a part of the Potter family's coffers."
"You may not know this, but Mr. Fremont—your grandfather—developed a hair-conditioning potion called Quick Smooth Hair Potion, which is used throughout the magical world."
"That's real money."
Harry's eyes widened, and he exclaimed, "Oh my! I've always seen Professor Lockhart use that super smooth hair serum, making his hair shiny and slick every day. Turns out, that trick was passed down to my ancestors!"
He then asked doubtfully, "If it's selling so well, it should be making a fortune every day, so why isn't my savings increasing?"
Blake grinned and said, "Because it's so popular, even American wizards are using it. Your grandfather was too busy and didn't care about business, so he entrusted it to the Twenty-Eight Holy Clans to act as their agent."
"My family also holds a portion of these shares; I'll go to Gringotts tomorrow to retrieve them and return them to you."
Harry frowned, his face showing displeasure. "Why is Godfather saying such things? We are family, why are you speaking like that?"
"Godfather, take all the gold you've been dealing with! I won't take a single cent, not a single coin!"
Blake, upon hearing this, was also displeased and said sternly:
"Harry, do you think I'm the kind of person who'd covet your gold?"
"That money was originally yours; I'm just returning it to its rightful owner."
Harry's anger flared when he saw Harry's refusal. "What 'yours' and 'mine'? How could my godfather say such things? It chills Harry's heart!"
"This gold has only passed through the hands of the two of us; what difference does it make where it is located?"
Blake, his chest heaving rapidly, frowned and exclaimed, "Of course there's a difference!"
"That money is yours! I'm just keeping it for you. Why would you keep it with me?"
Harry, seeing his insistence on dividing it up, felt a surge of anger and jumped up, shouting:
"I am still young and not yet an adult. What is wrong with putting this gold in my godfather's treasury?"
Blake was also furious, standing up and stepping on a chair, he roared, "Aren't you a big spender? As your godfather, what's wrong with giving you ten or twenty thousand gallons of pocket money!"
"Oh my god! I'm so angry!"
"Ugh! You're driving me crazy too!"
These two heroes were not fond of wealth or luxury, yet they insisted on deferring to each other, each wanting only for the other to enjoy.
The two sides argued endlessly, like red coals meeting a hot fire, their faces turning red with anger—truly a strange and bizarre situation.
The two men angrily swept the food and drink on the table, shattering bowls and plates all over the floor, their shouts growing louder. The three parts of anger they had feigned earlier had long since turned into seven parts of their true nature, and it was clear they were about to roll up their sleeves and raise their fists.
Kreacher, however, did not try to dissuade him; he merely watched from the sidelines, his eyes darting around, and said in a hoarse voice:
"Ah~ the despicable young master and Potter are arguing. If Potter can kill the young master, I can find myself a new master."
"Lady Bella and Lady Narcissa would certainly be delighted to accept the loyal old Kreacher..."
Kreacher's voice was like a broken gong, loud and jarring, and he made no attempt to hide it from anyone. Blake, with his sharp ears, was certainly not going to miss it.
Upon hearing that name, his eyes suddenly lit up, and all his anger vanished.
He slammed his fist on the table with a loud "smack," making the dishes jump, and shouted:
"That's enough!"
"We can discuss whose vault this money is in later."
He then stared intently at Harry and laughed, "We can go and collect our debts from the other twenty-eight Holy Clans first."
"I think it would be more appropriate to start with the Malfoy family, since they took the largest share of the agency from your grandfather back then."
Kreacher was struck dumb, collapsing to the ground with a thud.
"Kreacher's voice is too loud; Miss Narcissa will never accept me again..."
The flower blooms at two ends, each telling its own story.
In Wiltshire, there is a Malfoy estate, which is truly magnificent with its carved beams and painted rafters, exuding an imposing atmosphere.
The moonlight was bright, and Dobby the house-elf was busy in the kitchen preparing the dinner.
In the living room, there was a white-haired young man reclining on a brocade couch, reading the Daily Prophet.
He had only read a few lines when his face turned pale, and he spat out:
"Dad, did you see the news today? That scarred guy is absolutely insane."
Lucius, still sipping his delicate porcelain tea, asked without even looking up, "What do your classmates think?"
"Ha! What else could I say? Of course, I think he did the right thing!"
"Those guys are like they've been cursed; they just follow that scarred guy around like leeches."
"What's most disgusting is that many students in Slytherin agree with him!"
Just as they were getting into a heated argument, they suddenly heard the tinkling of jade pendants, and a noblewoman emerged from behind the curtain.
She had snow-white golden hair and slightly raised cheekbones; it was Narcissa. She reached out and touched Draco's forehead.
"Can't you get along with him? He saved you in the secret room last year, you should invite him over for dinner."
This remark seemed to have stirred up a hornet's nest. Draco's face flushed red, then turned pale and then purple, and he stammered:
"I... I didn't ask him to save me!"
"You have no idea how awful he is!"
Just as he was about to speak again, there was a loud "bang" as Lucius slammed his teacup down on the table.
"I told you, Draco, it was incredibly foolish of you to stand against everyone when everyone else was showing him favor!"
"Among the Twenty-Eight Holy Clans, why has the Malfoy family remained a renowned noble family in the magical world for over a thousand years?"
"Because we always manage to stand on the side of the strongest!"
He then glared at Draco again, "Think more."
Draco was scolded for no reason, and dared not talk back, only muttering under his breath.
"Just you wait... next time we meet, I'll make him pay..."
Just then, a loud "boom" was heard outside the manor gate, as if the sky had collapsed and the earth had split open. The Malfoy family jumped up in fright, each grabbing their magic wands.
Lucius shouted sternly, "Dobby! Go check what's going on outside!"
Dobby, trembling with fear, accepted the order and left. He returned shortly afterward, shouting with joy:
"Master! Harry Potter has arrived!"
"And Sirius Black is with him too!"
(End of this chapter)