Sagres stayed at the Black family ho for several days.
The ancient books, filled with danger and paranoia, were an undiscovered treasure trove for him.
He sifted through the knowledge, discarding most of the dross about pure-blood supremacy and errors long disproven by modern magic, precisely capturing several almost lost magical concepts.
Among them, the book titled "Bloodline Grafting and Purification" by Gaunt particularly impressed him.
He repeatedly studied the chapters on the transfer of magical creature traits, and a bold experintal plan gradually ford in his mind.
Of course, he would not rashly use unverified magic on himself.
But perhaps it could be used on the raven Noctis.
…
During the days Sagres stayed in the study, the cleaning work at Number 12, Grimmauld Place never stopped.
The entire house, apart from Harry's relatively tidy room, was perated with a persistent musty sll.
When they first moved in, they were ambitious to dispel the gloom of the old house and make it more livable, but every step they took t with invisible resistance, and the most active resistor among them was the house-elf Kreacher.
Harry even once thought that it was less a spring cleaning and more a war.
In the morning, Harry waved his wand, making a dust-covered ebony jewelry box float, carefully avoiding a glass jar next to it containing suspicious green sli.
Next to him, Sirius Black was frowning at a stubborn, carved wooden chest, on which hung a brass padlock that seed to be grinning mockingly at him.
"My mother must have put so magic on this thing that I don't know about," Sirius muttered, tapping his palm impatiently with his wand, "or sothing worse."
"You can't throw this away!"
Whenever Sirius or Harry tried to toss a foul-slling silver object or an ugly ornant into the rubbish bag, Kreacher would suddenly appear like a ghost.
The old house-elf would cling to the item with his scrawny body, crying out in a shrill voice, "This is the glory of the House of Black! It is the noble Lady Black's favorite ornant!"
His screams would often disturb the sleeping portraits on the walls, especially the old Lady Black, whose mouth was temporarily sealed with magical tape; she would struggle desperately, letting out a muffled, vicious roar that made the scene even more chaotic.
Whenever this happened, Sirius's face would darken, showing clear impatience and disgust, his movents rough, as if he wanted to throw everything out.
Harry, on the other hand, was very interested in the history of the House of Black, while also being wary of potential "surprises."
Sirius shifted his target, trying to net a constantly screaming old vase with a large cloth bag.
Harry was troubled by a set of silver tea things that tried to bite him.
"Don't be so gentle, Harry! Just throw it in the rubbish bag!"
Sirius shouted, dodging a stream of filth shot from the vase.
As they tried to clear a corner hung with heavy drapes, a large swarm of angry Doxies flew out as if their nest had been disturbed.
They furiously clenched their four tiny fists and fiercely pounced on Harry and Sirius, trying to bite their ears and fingers.
"Ouch! What was that!"
Harry waved his arms, trying to shoo away the painfully biting little creatures.
"They're Doxies! Damn it!"
Sirius cursed, drawing his wand. "Incendio might work, but it might set the curtains on fire too!"
While they were in a fluster, Sagres, who had been drawn by the commotion below, was leaning over from the second floor, watching them.
"Using 'Confundus' can stun them."
He didn't even walk down the stairs; he rely waved his wand simply.
An invisible surge of magic swept through, and the fierce Doxies imdiately flew around disorientedly for a while, then sulkily burrowed into the rubbish bag.
"They usually nest in fabrics; it's best to drive them out and detect them before cleaning," Sagres calmly advised, descending the stairs as he spoke.
"Professor, have you finished organizing your books?"
"Not yet, but I need to clear my head first."
He said, joining the cleaning team, though most of the ti he just stood behind the two, as if only wanting to see the old artifacts of the House of Black.
Once, as Harry was cleaning a large old wardrobe, a very ornate but incredibly heavy velvet robe suddenly ca alive. Its long sleeves snapped out like a python, tightly coiling around Harry's neck and trying to strangle him.
"Ha… ugh!"
Harry's face turned purple from being choked, and he struggled desperately, his wand falling to the floor.
Sirius was shocked. He raised his hand and cast a Diffindo, but it only startled Harry and had no other effect.
"Relashio!"
A spell accurately struck the mad robe.
The robe instantly stiffened, then limply loosened, falling softly back into the wardrobe.
Sagres stood behind them, his brow slightly furrowed.
"Many pure-blood families cast curses on their robes to prevent theft or to express their obsession with guarding property even after death."
He explained, "I suggest you first test any seemingly valuable clothing for curses. A simple Honum Revelio can reveal most low-level curses."
During their cleaning, they also encountered a music box that automatically played when approached, but its music imdiately made people depressed; a set of silver combs and scissors that tried to automatically cut the hair of anyone who ca near; and a magical scale that always tried to put price tags on everything around it…
Hedwig, just for staying on the scale for a mont, had several tags stuck to her backside.
Each ti they encountered a tricky problem, the two could always find the answer to that problem from Sagres.
And Kreacher always watched all of this with his eyes full of resentnt and fear.
He dared not stop Sagres, and would even hide imdiately in fright when he appeared.
But he would secretly pick up the things Harry and Sirius threw into the rubbish bag when they weren't looking.
He would hide those ssy things back in his cupboard, or whisper and cry to the portrait of the old Lady Black, telling her how the "disowned son and his disowned friends" were destroying the house.
And when Sagres was not around, Kreacher would brazenly erge from the shadows to annoy the two.
"This is the mistress's precious legacy, you cannot just throw it away like this!"
He shrieked, throwing his tiny body onto the rubbish pile, or using magic to instantly move them back to their original positions, or even hide them deeper.
Once, Harry was almost hit by a small figurine that suddenly jumped out of the rubbish bag and attacked him, clearly Kreacher's doing.
The cleaning work gradually progressed to the wall where the House of Black family tree tapestry hung.
The huge tapestry was dark with age, and the nas, birth, and death years of House of Black mbers were embedded in the ornate gold-embroidered scrolls.
At the top of the tapestry, several large words were embroidered:
The Ancient and Noble House of Black — Always Pure
"Why aren't you on it?"
Harry asked, looking at the bottom line of the family tree.
"I used to be."
Sirius said, pointing his wand at a charred little round hole on the tapestry, like a burn mark. "That's ."
His tone was very calm, but Harry could hear the underlying turmoil.
"Why…"
"After I ran away from ho, my dear old mother couldn't wait to destroy from it."
Sirius touched the burn mark, a mocking smile on his face. "Quite impressive, you see—burned so cleanly. Saved the trouble of doing it myself."
___
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