Chapter 312: Chapter 312
London.
Grimmauld Place, not far from King’s Cross Station, was shrouded in a layer of hazy twilight.
The streetlights on both sides of the road hadn’t lit up yet, and the sky was in that state of being neither dark nor light. The terraced Georgian buildings were neatly lined up, windows tightly shut and porches silent, looking no different from any other old neighborhood in London.
Lynn followed Harry and Sirius around the corner into the square. Just as he regained his footing, he saw a battered door materialize out of thin air between number 11 and number 13.
"The Fidelius Charm?" Lynn raised an eyebrow.
Sirius nodded proudly.
He pulled out his wand and gave the door a light tap.
Lynn heard many metallic clanking sounds, followed by a rattling noise like chains being moved.
Immediately after, the door creaked open.
A musty smell billowed out from the crack in the door, mixed with ancient dust and a certain indescribable scent of decay.
Sirius’s expression stiffened for a moment, as if he had just remembered what his home was like.
"Er... come on in." He stepped aside to let them through, his voice much lower than before.
Lynn stepped over the threshold.
Before he could even take in the interior decor, a foul stench hit him full in the face.
It was a smell hard to describe—like something had been rotting for a long time and then kept in an airtight space, fermenting over years into a thick, viscous stench.
Yes, viscous. Using that word to describe a smell was somewhat inappropriate, but it was the truth.
The odor drifted from the direction of the stairs, spreading along the hallway and seeping into every crack.
Lynn’s brow furrowed. "What is that smell?"
Sirius’s face didn’t look great. Before he could answer, a flurry of hurried footsteps came from upstairs.
Lupin was practically running down. He held his nose with one hand and the banister with the other, rushing down unsteadily.
When he reached the landing and saw Lynn, a flash of surprise crossed his eyes.
"Oh, Lynn," he said, lowering his hand from his nose, a sincere smile appearing on his face. "It’s so good to see you."
Lynn nodded. "Me too, Professor."
Lupin waved his hand. "I’m not a Professor anymore, just call me Lupin." He paused, as if remembering something, and added, "Or Moony is fine, too."
Lynn followed suit readily.
"Alright, Lupin."
He was just about to ask what was going on with the smell upstairs when he suddenly felt something watching him.
Lynn turned to look.
Something seemed to be moving in the cabinet next to the stairs.
"That’s Kreacher," Sirius’s voice came from behind him, filled with undisguised contempt. "A House-elf."
"But he’s gone mad all day long, he’s completely useless now—otherwise we wouldn’t be eating ’char-grilled’ steak every day."
Lupin coughed beside them, his mouth twitching slightly, likely recalling a certain dinner he’d rather forget.
"Greetings to you, Master." Seeing he had been spotted, Kreacher shuffled out from behind the cabinet.
He bowed deeply, his ears almost dragging on the floor.
He straightened up, his mouth just opening—
"Get out of here, Kreacher!" Sirius’s voice sounded like it was squeezed through his teeth.
Kreacher’s mouth snapped shut.
He bowed again. "Yes, Master."
He turned around, dragging his feet as he walked away. "Master is a nasty, ungrateful scoundrel... if his mother knew, she’d be rolling in her grave... Master has brought shame to the House of Black..."
The voice wasn’t loud, but in the quiet hallway, every word was crystal clear.
Lynn: "..."
This House-elf was indeed not normal.
He had seen the over-enthusiastic elves in the Hogwarts kitchens, and he had seen his own Dodo, who was shrewd and capable, but he had never seen one—muttering insults to its master’s face.
Sirius stood nearby, his face flushed red, the veins on his neck bulging.
Lynn glanced at him, thinking this former fugitive and current godfather probably wouldn’t be in the mood to talk for a while.
"Lupin," he turned to the Werewolf who was still rubbing his nose, "what were you doing upstairs just now?"
Lupin sighed and lowered his hand.
"Clearing out magical objects." He glanced toward the stairs, a complex expression on his face. "This house has been passed down through the Black family for generations, and who knows how many years’ worth of things are hidden inside.
"Good and bad, Dark Arts, jinxes, curses, all piled up in a mess. I just found a box upstairs, opened it—"
He paused, as if recalling the traumatic experience.
"And that smell came out."
Upon hearing this, Lynn’s eyes immediately lit up. "Dark magical items? Where? Take me to see them."
Lupin: "..."
He had forgotten that besides fishing, Lynn also enjoyed Alchemy.
"Then you’d better be prepared." Lupin shook his head helplessly. "Hardly anything in there is normal."
Lynn waved his hand with a look of indifference. "Could they be any less normal than my Potions?"
Lupin: "..."
He found himself unable to argue; that stuff didn’t look like anything a decent person would brew.
Sirius, having finally recovered from his anger, was also taken aback by those words.
"What does he mean by that?" he whispered to Lupin.
Lupin didn’t answer, but simply patted him on the shoulder.
"Let’s go," he beckoned to Lynn. "The items are in a cabinet on the third floor."
Lynn immediately followed.
After a few steps, he turned back to look at Sirius, who was still standing there.
"Mr. Black, would you like to come up and take a look too? In case there’s anything good, I can help you appraise it."
Sirius’s mouth twitched. "What’s there to see in those things?"
...
Accompanied by Sirius, Lynn first toured every room on the first and second floors.
The entrance hall was larger than he had imagined. The walls were covered with portraits of past heads of the House of Black, each set in a heavy gold frame. The people in the paintings wore clothes from different eras, yet all shared the same arrogant face.
Their gazes looked down from above, filled with scrutiny and disdain, as if they were alive—
In fact, they were much like living people. As Lynn walked past, several figures in the paintings turned their heads to size him up with critical eyes.
"Who is this?" a Witch in a silver wig asked shrilly, snapping her fan shut and pointing at him.
"A guest," Sirius’s reply was short to the point of being blunt.
The Witch’s mouth opened and closed, clearly unsatisfied with the answer, but Sirius was already pulling Lynn further inside.
The second floor wasn’t much better.
The hallway was lined with door after door, each shut tight as if hiding something shameful.
Sirius pushed open a few to let him see—bedrooms, a study, a drawing room. The layouts were similar: dark, heavy furniture, thick drapes, and the air filled with ancient dust and an indescribable scent of decay.
"No one has really lived in this house since my mother died," Sirius said in a flat tone, though his hand pushed the doors with noticeable force. "She wouldn’t let anyone touch anything before she died, so things have just been piling up for decades."
Lynn didn’t respond.
He could tell Sirius’s feelings for this house were complicated—he truly hated it, but to say he didn’t care at all was also false.
Finally, they arrived at the room where the magical items were stored.
As the door opened, Lynn was momentarily stunned.
The room was large, much larger than the drawing room at the entrance.
The ceiling was incredibly high, and the surrounding walls were filled with tall glass cabinets, packed with all sorts of items:
Boxes, bottles, statues, masks, jewelry, books, and things he couldn’t even identify.
The light in the room was dim, with only a few magical wall lamps glowing on the walls.
Lynn stood at the doorway for a few seconds.
"Looks like the lair of some evil Dark Wizard," he commented matter-of-factly.
Sirius snorted, though whether in agreement or resignation was unclear.
Lynn entered the room and walked past the glass cabinets row by row.
There were indeed many items, and it was clear that each had been meticulously placed—the angle, position, and spacing were all carefully considered.
This was likely a "collection room" used by the House of Black at some point to show off to guests.
He found the cabinet Lupin had mentioned, right next to an armchair.
"This is the place I hate most in the entire house." Sirius walked over to him, frowning as his gaze swept over the glass cabinets.
"If I ever do a full clearing of this house, the things in here will be the first to go.
"Almost all of them are Dark Arts items; they loved this stuff. They even displayed them like treasures, as if it were something to be proud of."
As he spoke, he casually took a small ball of unknown purpose from the cabinet and weighed it in his hand.
The ball was solid black, its surface carved with intricate runes, and it felt slightly cool in the palm. Sirius glanced at it, the disgust on his face deepening, and he casually stuffed it back.
Lynn continued forward, his eyes drifting between the glass cabinets.
Placed right in the center was an open box. Resting on a dark red velvet lining was an Order of Merlin medal.
That medal was a size larger than Lynn’s two, and the quality of the gold was richer. The front of the medal was engraved with Merlin’s profile, and the back bore a line of small text—"Awarded to the House of Black, in recognition of outstanding contribution to the Ministry of Magic."
Sirius glanced at the medal with utter disdain.
"The value of this medal is far less than yours.
"Back then, a Dark Wizard was turning the Wizarding World upside down, and they needed gold to recruit more Aurors.
"The House of Black had plenty of gold, and the Ministry of Magic needed gold—it was just a matter of mutual needs."
Lynn raised an eyebrow. "How much gold does it take to trade for one?"
Sirius thought for a moment. "I’m not sure of the exact amount, but it seems it was traded for half the gold in the vault."
He paused, the irony in his tone growing stronger. "He thought this would bring honor and status to the House of Black."
"That’s quite a price." Lynn clicked his tongue, his gaze lingering on the medal for a few more seconds.
Half a vault’s worth of gold for such a little thing, placed in the most prominent spot in the house so every visiting guest could see it.
The House of Black really was willing to pay a high price for a bit of prestige.
He withdrew his gaze and continued looking down.
At the bottom of the cabinet was an exquisite little mirror.
The mirror wasn’t large, about the length of a palm. The frame was silver, carved with complex patterns that looked hand-chiseled; every line was so fine it made one want to look closer.
The mirror surface wasn’t very bright, covered in a thin layer of mist as if someone had breathed on it.
Lynn casually picked it up to take a look.
The mist on the mirror dissipated.
A woman’s face emerged from the mirror.
Her features were delicate, but it was a delicacy that wasn’t comfortable to look at—the cheekbones were too high, the lips too thin, the eyes too narrow. Each feature alone wasn’t ugly, but together they carried an indescribable air of meanness.
Before Lynn could even ask who it was, the Witch in the mirror spoke.
"You filthy—"
Her voice was sharp and piercing, like nails on a chalkboard. Every syllable caused physical discomfort.
Lynn’s face instantly darkened.
He had never been insulted to his face in his life, let alone by a portrait in a mirror.
Without a word, he tapped his wand to his ear, using a Silencing Charm to seal his hearing completely.
The world instantly became quiet. The Witch’s mouth was still moving, but the sound could no longer reach him.
Then Lynn took a deep breath and began his counter-output.
"Fuck you—!"
His voice exploded in the quiet room, full of vigor and perfectly articulated.
"Fuck you, you uneducated, ill-bred... I’ll take your whole... I’ll give you a 360-degree, no-dead-angle..."
He cursed with a smooth, uninterrupted flow.
His vocabulary was astonishingly rich, and his sentence structures and metaphors were even more varied. He went from family relationships all the way to sexual topics, from physical anatomy to livestock farming, and from the funeral industry to family genealogy.
Various verbs and nouns were freely combined in his mouth, forming a long tirade with a complete structure, clear logic, and full emotional weight.
He even had the leisure to adjust his speed and rhythm—fast as a machine gun when needed, and slow as if reading a death sentence at other times.
The face of the Witch in the mirror had already contorted.
Her mouth was still opening and closing, but the arrogance on her face had been replaced by anger, which was then overridden by shock, finally turning into bewilderment—she had clearly never encountered such a situation.
In the history of the House of Black, no mirror portrait had likely ever been treated this way.
Sirius, standing nearby, was completely dumbfounded.
He had originally thought Lynn was a rare good student—good grades, could fight, polite, and even had an Order of Merlin, First Class.
Such a student at Hogwarts would be a favorite of the Professors, a role model for classmates, and the "other people’s child" parents always talked about.
But now, listening to that string of unheard-of insults jumping out of the kid’s mouth, he suddenly felt his previous definition of a "good student" might have been too narrow.
What does it mean to say you can’t judge a book by its cover?
This is what it means.
What does it mean to be a hidden talent?
This is what it means.
The frame of the mirror had already begun to tremble slightly.
The Witch’s face in the mirror had gone from bewildered to livid, her lips trembling, but she just couldn’t get a single word out.
After Lynn finished his last sentence, he stopped, looking like he could have gone on.
He looked down at the mirror.
"What’s wrong?" Lynn tilted his head. "Mute now? Weren’t you quite talkative just now? Speak!"
The Witch’s lips trembled again.
Lynn waited for two seconds, and seeing the other party indeed had nothing left to say, he nodded with satisfaction.
He turned the mirror over, face down on the cabinet, and then removed the Silencing Charm from his ears.
The world had sound once again.
He heard Sirius let out a long breath beside him.
"You..." Sirius’s voice was a bit airy, "where did you learn all those words?"
Lynn thought for a moment and replied seriously: "Self-taught."
Sirius’s mouth twitched.
He patted Lynn on the shoulder. "If you ever start a cursing training class, I’ll be the first to sign up."
---
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