"You are…"
Walburga Black's gaze swept back and forth between Link and Emily.
Of all the people she had seen recently, these two were dressed the most formally, and their bearing was nothing like those filthy Mudbloods and country bumpkins. Instinctively, she straightened her posture and adjusted her attitude.
Finally, her eyes drifted past the glittering Second Class Order of Merlin pinned to Link's chest and fixed on a small, unremarkable copper button engraved with the Flamel family crest.
"You're from the Flamel family?"
Walburga Black said in surprise. As a pure-blood supremacist, of course she recognized the Flamel crest, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight families, just like the Blacks.
Link and Emily exchanged a quick look, then bowed slightly and said, "Good afternoon, Madam. I'm Link Flamel, and this is my fiancée."
"Ah, hello! Hello! We're practically relatives!" Walburga Black looked genuinely excited.
"Merlin's beard! This house has finally welcomed two true nobles! These past few days, I've been going mad from the Mudbloods and thieves that ungrateful son of mine brought here! Your arrival truly brings honor and grace to this place!"
As she spoke, Walburga shot a sharp glare at Sirius, which made his teeth grind audibly.
He turned and glared furiously at Snape.
"You bloody snot-nosed freak, you must've rung the bell on purpose just now!"
"Who knows?" Snape said mockingly, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
"But I'd say this is a fine chance to improve your relationship with your dear mother. Or perhaps, if you prefer, you can put on another little performance like before, all motherly affection and filial love."
Sirius forced down his anger and growled, "I don't want anything to do with that crazy old hag! If it weren't for the Permanent Sticking Charm she put on the back of that painting, I'd have tossed her into the trash ages ago!"
"Oh? Is that so?" Snape replied with a smirk.
"If that's truly how you feel, I suggest you try a strong fire spell on it. Even if there's some protective enchantment, the painting would still be destroyed. Then, perhaps, you might finally have some peace and quiet."
Sirius froze, his mouth half-open, unable to come up with a response.
Snape's smirk grew darker, clearly enjoying himself.
Meanwhile, after chatting cheerfully with Link and Emily for a few moments, Walburga Black's portrait suddenly seemed to realize how disheveled and unsightly she looked.
She clutched her face and shrieked, "Ah! How could I appear before guests in such a state? How utterly disgraceful! Kreacher! Kreacher, you lazy mutt, where are you? Come and properly receive the honored guests of the Flamel family, I need to freshen up!"
After saying this, she gave Link and Emily an apologetic smile and vanished from her frame in a flash. No one knew where she'd gone.
Sirius's eyes lit up. He quickly took the chance to yank the heavy curtains shut over the portrait again, that way, even if Walburga came back, she'd fall silent once more.
Just as he sighed in relief, a small figure came scurrying down the stairs.
"Kreacher thought he heard the mistress's voice," said a nervous little house-elf.
He looked very old, and very poorly kept.
Unlike Krell, this elf's skin was covered in wrinkles, and tufts of white hair sprouted from his enormous bat-like ears. He was almost disgustingly grotesque.
His cloudy, bloodshot eyes darted around the hallway, and he kept sniffing the air with a piglike nose.
"You heard wrong, Kreacher! No one here needs you. Get back to your room!" Sirius snapped impatiently.
At that, Kreacher turned around slowly, muttering to himself as he shuffled away,
"Filthy, worthless boy, bringing his scoundrel friends to defile my mistress's house… Oh, my poor mistress! If she knew what kind of trash they'd dragged into her home, what would she say to Kreacher? Such shame, Mudbloods, werewolves, liars, and thieves… No, wait..."
Halfway through his grumbling, Kreacher froze.
He stared wide-eyed at Link and Emily, then exclaimed in surprise, "These are true nobles! Mistress must have sent Kreacher to serve them properly! Kreacher will..."
"I said no one needs you here!" Sirius roared, cutting him off mid-sentence and kicking him hard across the floor.
Kreacher scrambled up and scurried away miserably. Only then did Sirius awkwardly turn to Link and Emily, whose expressions were somewhere between bemused and uncomfortable.
"That's my mother's old house-elf," Sirius explained.
"He's been stuck here too long, and like her portrait, he's gone completely mad. Don't mind him."
Emily nodded to show she understood.
Link, however, didn't respond. His eyes were fixed on the staircase.
Sirius's kick seemed to have acted as some kind of signal, because soon, rapid footsteps came pounding down from upstairs.
Moments later, George and Fred Weasley's heads appeared over the railing. They were both stunned at Link and Emily's elegant outfits, then started joking in their usual rapid-fire way, "Whoa! You two headed to a ball or something?"
"Shame there's only rats and harpies here. Oh, and of course, a neat little row of house-elf heads, that's what you nobles like, isn't it?"
As Fred spoke, he pointed at the wall beneath the stairs, where dozens of shriveled house-elf heads were neatly mounted.
Link and Emily's eyes both turned toward Sirius. This was his house, which meant this gruesome display was his family's doing.
"Don't look at me like that," Sirius said with a shrug.
"That was my aunt's work. She liked to chop off the heads of house-elves once they got too old to work and hang them up there. The worst part is, the elves thought it was an honor."
"Oh, how glorious!" George said sarcastically. "Maybe when we die, we should try it too. What do you think, Fred?"
"Of course, George! It's awesome! Just like those samurai in Muggle movies, chop off the head, pickle it with spices, and stick it on an altar!"
Before they could continue, Mrs. Weasley appeared behind them and smacked both their heads.
"You two useless boys! Stop lazing around! The Boggart in the attic hasn't been dealt with yet!" she scolded, clutching a burlap sack that was clearly wriggling with something alive.
"Oh, come on, Mum, we were greeting the guests!" Fred protested quickly.
"That's right," George chimed in.
"Look, Link and Emily are here! Hogwarts' golden duo! The Flamel heir, the mega-rich gentleman! We're just trying to get on his good side so one day he might remember to bump Dad up from his miserable clerk job. See how hard we work for this family?"
"Quiet!"
Mrs. Weasley bonked them both again, silencing their nonsense. Then she turned with a warm smile to Link and Emily.
"Welcome, dears. Harry and Ron have been talking about you nonstop. I just made some custard pudding in the kitchen, why don't you sit and have some while we chat? Oh! There they are…"
As soon as she said that, more hurried footsteps came thundering down the stairs.
A moment later, the trio, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, appeared in the hall, slightly out of breath.
"Link! We..."
They all froze.
Ron was being held back by his mum. Hermione had noticed Emily, standing beside Link and wearing the Flamel family crest. And Harry… Harry was just stunned by Link's attire.
To be honest, the suit Mrs. Flamel had tailored for Link was stunning, elegant, perfectly fitted, luxurious but understated. It brought out his refined build and calm aura.
But that was the problem. It was too perfect.
So perfect that Harry immediately thought of Malfoy.
Malfoy always dressed like this.
And because Harry loathed Malfoy, he couldn't help feeling a faint, irrational discomfort toward Link in that moment.
But that feeling vanished almost instantly, because Harry realized there was a fundamental difference between them.
It wasn't about the quality of the clothes or how expensive they looked. It was something else.
Link's every movement radiated calm confidence and genuine grace, he was naturally noble.
Malfoy, on the other hand, was just a bragging country upstart who liked to flaunt his father's name and look down on people.
"Harry! You look pretty good yourself!" Link said with a grin, stepping forward. "I really ought to show you the letter Dumbledore sent me, he made it sound like you were on your deathbed! Gave me quite the scare!"
Hearing Link's teasing, the three couldn't help but picture Dumbledore's exaggerated letter-writing face, and burst out laughing.
The tension in the air melted away.
"You really ought to hear what's been happening to me lately," Harry said with a weary laugh. "After you do, you'll realize Dumbledore wasn't exaggerating at all. I honestly feel like I'm about to die."
Link nodded seriously. "I already know the general situation. Don't worry, I came back from Germany this time specifically to help you."
"Germany? You went to Germany?" Hermione frowned.
As a Muggle-born witch from Britain, she didn't have much affection for a country that had once started World War II.
"Yes," Link explained, "My grandfather, whom I hadn't seen in ages, suddenly invited me to visit. I was going to stay there until term started. But once I heard about your situation, of course I came back right away."
"Link…"
Harry's eyes grew misty. He was genuinely touched.
Seeing this, Link's smile widened just slightly, exactly the reaction he'd wanted.
Soon, at Mrs. Weasley's urging, everyone moved from the hall into the drawing room.
Well, "drawing room" was a generous term. In this decrepit old house, it was really just a large, shabby meeting room.
Fortunately, neither Link nor Emily were the type to fuss over their surroundings. Despite the conditions, they chatted pleasantly with everyone.
Mrs. Weasley even brought out some snacks, plain-looking but delicious-smelling cakes and gingerbread. The trio dug in eagerly.
Link and Emily, however, didn't eat much. Not because they looked down on her cooking, but because they'd just come from one of Mrs. Flamel's multi-hour luncheons and were still stuffed.
Just as Link and Emily were watching the others enjoy themselves, Kreacher suddenly reappeared in the drawing room.
"Kreacher has prepared refreshments for our noble guests. None for the worthless boy or his disgraceful friends."
As he spoke, Kreacher set two trays, each with delicate pastries and tea, before Link and Emily.
"Merlin's beard! Such elegant treats!" George exclaimed.
"Mum, I told you your baking doesn't hold up, look, they haven't even touched yours! This is what real nobles should be eating!"
Fred chimed in dramatically, "You have to try it, Link, Emily! Honestly, this is the first time we've ever seen Kreacher willingly cook for anyone! His skills are said to be the best in all of Britain!"
At that, everyone in the room looked uncomfortable. Link rolled his eyes at the twins.
He knew the story, and he knew exactly what those two were doing.
Kreacher despised Sirius and everyone associated with him. Even when ordered to work, he'd do it half-heartedly. If he was serving food voluntarily, something was definitely off.
George and Fred weren't being helpful, they were baiting him. They wanted Link and Emily to eat the tainted food and make fools of themselves, maybe even offend Mrs. Weasley in the process.
Link didn't know why the twins suddenly held such a grudge against him, but he was no pushover.
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