The Black family manor.
As befitting one of the oldest and most distinguished of the many wizarding families, the Black family manor was also adorned with a long and storied history.
As a family with a history of having survived the periods of Muggle persecution of wizards, their mansion was, of course, exceptionally secret.
Protected by all sorts of wards, and even the most powerful magic for protecting a location: the 'Fidelius Charm.'
[T/N: Fidelius Charm (피델리우스 마법): A canonical spell. It's a complex charm used to conceal a secret within the soul of a single living person (the Secret-Keeper). The secret location becomes undiscoverable by any means unless the Secret-Keeper voluntarily divulges the information.]
The power of the Fidelius Charm, which hides information about a location's whereabouts within the soul of a Secret-Keeper, was absolute.
This spell, which made it impossible to even perceive the location without the Keeper's permission, was impartial to all.
Probably not even the most powerful wizards of the current era, Voldemort or Dumbledore, could break the Fidelius Charm head-on.
In any case, the great mansion of the Black family, Number 12, Grimmauld Place, was secretly hidden through all these protective measures.
By building their mansion in the midst of a Muggle residential area, they must have reinforced their pride in their pure blood, along with their anger towards the cruel Muggles.
"...Well then, come in."
"Wow, so this is the Black family manor?"
"It feels so dark in here..."
"Harry, it's the 'Black' manor, of course it's dark."
"Hey, refrain from making jokes about someone else's house... although you're right, I don't like how dark it is either."
And now, in a manner so absurd it would make their ancestors grab the back of their necks, a Muggle-born and a half-blood set foot in the Black family manor, guided by the last, thoughtless descendant of the Black family.
Wow. So this is the Black family manor.
As befitting the long history of the Blacks, the interior of the mansion was decorated in an antique style.
Snake-shaped ornaments decorated the mansion everywhere, as befitting a family that had produced many historic Slytherins. Unidentified objects that looked like they were used hundreds of years ago.
A space where you couldn't find a single tool of the 20th century, no matter how hard you looked. For a moment, I felt as if I had returned to ninety years in the past.
At least, that was the case until my eyes fell on the portraits that decorated one side of the mansion.
The portraits, seeing us suddenly enter the mansion, began to murmur amongst themselves.
Among them, a noblewoman with black hair saw us and screamed.
"Sirius Black! Oh, for heaven's sake! How dare a traitor to the family, who set foot in that filthy house, step into this home!"
At the sight, Sirius's face turned red and he shouted.
"Shut up, you crazy old hag! You're not even my mother!"
He then reflexively fumbled in his robes as if to cast a spell, but for someone who had just come from Azkaban, there was no way he would have a wand, or anything remotely like it.
As he fumbled with his empty hands and turned his head awkwardly towards Harry and me, I asked.
"She seems to be your mother. Are you alright?"
"Ah, please, I beg you."
I lightly covered the portrait with a conjured curtain and made sure that no sound would echo from around it.
I could hear the portraits, which had been watching the scene with surprised eyes, whispering amongst themselves.
I looked over the portraits, and finally, I was able to find a familiar face.
I raised the corners of my mouth in a grin and spoke to the portrait.
"Headmaster Black, it's been a long time!"
"Hmm? Who would call me Headmaster?"
Headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black, a little older than I remembered, but still stroking his trademark magnificent mustache.
He tilted his head as he looked at me.
Ah, right. Given my appearance, it was understandable that he wouldn't recognize me.
I took the Elder Wand out from my robes and gave it a light wave, and my appearance instantly changed to that of an adult.
Seeing me, he said in surprise.
"N-no! You're!"
Phineas's eyes darted back and forth as he still couldn't quite remember my name. I let out a small laugh at his unchanging demeanor and said.
"It's Knightly, Headmaster."
"Ah, right! Knightly! A true masterpiece produced by our Hogwarts!"
He laughed heartily and praised me. But from the looks of it, that man didn't seem to remember me properly.
If he truly remembered, he wouldn't have such an attitude.
Phineas really ought to be grateful to me, considering what I did for him when I was at Hogwarts.
His laughter was brief. He soon realized that I was in the Black family manor and asked with a frown.
"But- tell me, Knightly. If I'm not mistaken, the portrait I am currently in seems to be the one hanging in the Black family manor. How did you get here?"
In the midst of all this, he completely failed to notice the strangeness of me being here in a child's body after ninety years.
Did he lose his sense of time while living as a portrait?
Or was he just a dull person?
Well, whatever the case, a good thing is a good thing. I delivered the news that would make Phineas jump for joy.
"It's nothing much. I just felt sorry for the last descendant of the Black family being in Azkaban, so I brought him here."
My words didn't seem to register with Phineas for a moment as he blinked, but then he shouted in ecstasy.
"Wh-what did you say? No, can there be such good news! Hahaha, Knightly! The Black family owes you a great debt!"
He then spotted Sirius, who was standing blankly behind me, watching me converse comfortably with Phineas.
"Aha, Sirius! There you are! The last male descendant of our Black family!"
Sirius answered awkwardly.
"Ah, um. Great-great-grandfather. It's been a while."
"Yes! Sirius! Of course, I never doubted for a moment that you, the heir of our Black family, would return safely from Azkaban!"
His laughter was brief. Phineas's mind was filled with gratitude for the benefactor of his family.
'This is all thanks to the grace I accumulated while working as Headmaster! Knightly, Knightly. Ah, of course I remember him. Hmm, but what kind of student was he, exactly...?'
With Knightly's status now elevated to 'benefactor of the family,' Phineas, despite the hassle, delved into his memories to recall the student named Knightly.
Knightly, Knightly... Aisen Knightly?
At that moment, even though he was just a portrait, Phineas felt a chill run down his spine.
"Aisen Knightly?! No, is it really you?"
Sirius had no way of understanding his great-great-grandfather's reaction.
Phineas, who had died decades ago, and Aisen, who looked to be less than ten years old. Two people who should have had absolutely no connection.
Why in the world was there a sudden look of 'fear' in Phineas's eyes as he looked at the little boy?
At that moment, the Black family house-elf appeared before them.
It was Kreacher, the house-elf who had served the pure-blood Black family for a long, long time.
[T/N: Kreacher (크리처): The Black family's ancient and deeply prejudiced house-elf from the books. He is fiercely loyal to the pure-blood ideals of his former masters.]
Kreacher looked back and forth between Harry, Aisen, and Sirius, and then his face twisted in disgust as he shouted.
"A Muggle-born, a half-blood! And a traitor on top of that! How dare these filthy bloodlines enter the sacred house of Black—"
"KREACHER, SHUT UP!!!!!"
No, to be precise, he tried to shout.
At the sudden roar from the portrait, Kreacher stopped speaking and looked up in surprise. The owner of the roar was Phineas Black.
Phineas shouted, his face deathly pale.
"Kr-eacher! Are you determined to bring ruin upon our family!! How dare you speak such nonsense to 'The Unknowable One'...!!"
[T/N: The Unknowable One (알아서는 안되는 자): Aisen's moniker among Dark Wizards, first mentioned in the side story. The fact that the pure-blood supremacist portrait of Phineas knows and fears this name is a testament to Aisen's old reputation.]
"...Pardon? My old master?"
In the suddenly awkward atmosphere, Harry muttered. The Unknowable One?
I watched the scene and thought. Well, this is a mess.
"...Tea, sir."
About an hour later.
After Phineas had a whispered conversation with a pale-faced Kreacher, we decided to sit in the mansion's drawing-room to break the awkward atmosphere and talk.
Whatever Kreacher had heard from Phineas, he brought us tea, though his face was full of dissatisfaction.
No, to be precise, only to me.
I felt a little bewildered as a teacup was placed only in front of me at the table where the three of us were sitting. What is this?
This house-elf seemed to be a pure-blood supremacist, so wouldn't it make more sense for him to serve only Sirius?
"Um, thank... you?"
At my awkward thanks, Kreacher seemed to stare at us blankly for a moment, then disappeared with Apparition.
Seeing this, Sirius scratched his neatly groomed head and said.
"Please understand. Our house-elf is a bit peculiar."
I asked him.
"But a traitor? What's the story?"
"Ah, after I got into Gryffindor and ran away from home, the great House of Black disowned me. Well, it doesn't matter. Whether I like it or not, I'm the sole heir now."
Not that I particularly want to inherit this gloomy family. As Sirius was grumbling, I was about to say something but paused. Wait a minute.
"Are you saying that you were a Gryffindor, even though you're a Black?"
"That's right. Quite unusual, isn't it?"
Hmm. So that means Sirius is my junior, too? I mentally revised my assessment of Sirius slightly upwards and said.
"So, what was it you wanted to talk about?"
Ahem. Sirius cleared his throat for a moment, then spoke to Harry.
"Um, this is about Harry. But before that, Harry, how much do you know about... that day?"
That day. Though there was no further description, Harry and I knew which day he was talking about.
Instinctively sensing that the story would be about his parents, Harry looked at Sirius with trembling eyes.
"Sir, do you know what happened to my parents?"
"Of course. As I said before, James was my best friend. Ah, right."
After speaking, he suddenly stood up and went somewhere. A moment later, he returned, coughing, with a dust-covered photograph he had found somewhere.
"Harry, here. Look. This is me and your father."
Harry took the dusty photograph and carefully wiped the dust off.
Though it was a black and white photo, not a color one, it was an object that held the traces of his parents.
With a trembling hand, Harry lifted the photo and looked at it, and his eyes widened in surprise.
There, two boys were standing with their arms around each other's shoulders, smiling.
A handsome boy with long hair that gave off an aristocratic aura, and next to him, a man who looked like Harry, with a mischievous smile.
Even without any explanation, Harry knew which one was Sirius and which one was his father.
As Harry was staring at the photo, the James in the picture took his arm off his friend's shoulder, got on a broom, and flew away.
Harry already knew from the newspapers that pictures in the wizarding world moved like this, but seeing his father move was a completely different matter.
As Harry was staring intently at the photo, Sirius, with a heavy expression, told him the truth.
How James and Lily Potter, who had been hiding in the Potter cottage in Godric's Hollow, had died because of the betrayal of Peter Pettigrew, who had become the Secret-Keeper of the Fidelius Charm due to his own foolish cleverness.
And even the process of how he himself had been framed and imprisoned.
I had already skimmed his surface consciousness using Legilimency, so I knew the general facts, but this was the first time I was hearing the details of the situation.
Having learned the truth, Harry put down the photo and his fists trembled.
I placed a hand on his shoulder.
After standing like that for a long time, Harry asked Sirius.
"...Sirius, could you tell me more about my parents?"
"Ah, of course. Yes, I'll tell you stories about James and Lily..."
I watched with a warm smile as Harry listened to the stories that Sirius began to unfold.
And, from a corner of the mansion, Kreacher was watching them.
Kreacher was born to a mother who was a Black family house-elf, and he had dedicated his entire life to serving the Black family.
He was also the last loyal servant who had protected this silent Black family manor alone after Mistress Walburga had passed away.
But how dare a traitor to the family enter this sacred Black family manor!
And that traitor had even brought a lowly Muggle-born and a filthy half-blood into this mansion, which was protected by great magic!
Naturally, Kreacher, who had been educated on the superiority of the pure-blood family for a long time, was about to appear before them and shout at them.
"Kr-eacher! Are you determined to bring ruin upon our family!! How dare you speak such nonsense to 'The Unknowable One'...!!"
"...Pardon? My old master?"
At least, that had been his intention, until his former master, Phineas Nigellus Black, had shouted.
What was this situation? Kreacher had served the Black family for over six hundred long years.
Naturally, that meant he had also served Phineas Black, who had once been the head of the family.
Master Phineas had not been very active in his discrimination against Muggle-borns, but he was at least not someone who would defend them, so why on earth.
Kreacher, lost in confusion and surprise, was beckoned over by Phineas.
And then, with a pale face, Phineas whispered to Kreacher.
How great, how terrifying, and how fearsome a wizard that boy sitting over there was.
Kreacher's large eyes trembled as he heard the earth-shattering old stories of Aisen Knightly.
Come to think of it, he thought he had heard that name before.
'The Unknowable One'!
And Phineas glared at Kreacher and said.
"Kreacher, never, ever! If you do not wish to see this Black family you have served with such loyalty fall to ruin, do not ever utter such words to Knightly again!!"
Kreacher could swear that he had never in his life seen a human turn so pale. Of course, he wasn't a human, but a portrait.
Kreacher couldn't quite believe all of it, but he at least made sure to obey Phineas's words.
Though there was no compulsion for Kreacher to listen to Phineas, as the ownership had already passed to his descendants, Kreacher did not dare to test the wrath of that wizard.
And on the other hand, Kreacher's thoughts turned to a certain locket he had hidden in his den.
Perhaps that great wizard could fulfill the last wish of his true master?