Chapter 43

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When I woke up, I stared in confusion at the unfamiliar ceiling. A few seconds and a picture of yesterday formed in my head - I'm in a house on Grimmauld. Throwing off the covers and sitting on the bed, I began to look around. A simple, uncomplicated light room. Large and comfortable single bed made of dark carved wood. A large wardrobe, bedside tables, a chest, a large work table to match the bed, a window covered with thick light curtains through which the rays of the dawn sun shone. Which means it's already ten o'clock. I slept well.

My bag lay on a chair by the table, apparently cleaned things neatly stacked on the nightstand. After changing my clothes, I was about to search for a bathroom, but Kreacher appeared with a pop.

"Guest of the house Black," without enthusiasm, the house-elf indicated a nod of his head.

"Kreacher," I nodded back.

"Breakfast is ready."

"Where can I find a bathroom here?"

"Follow me."

Kreacher left the room, and I followed. Striking differences - the corridor was gloomy and dark, dusty, and in general, the atmosphere here was similar to an abandoned house.

Kreacher walked me to one of the doors and pointed at it. There was a perfectly normal bathroom inside: the sink, albeit old-fashioned, not the best yellow lighting on the ceiling, a mirror with a locker above the sink. Further, one could see another door, the inner one. I bet this is where the bathtub is.

Quite ordinary and familiar taps with valves protruded from the sink, turning which, I achieved a snort, but the water poured out, and it was clean enough for me. After washing and putting myself in decent look, I left the room and went downstairs. Going down three floors and finding myself in a corridor already familiar to me, I, not paying attention to the heads of house-elves on the stakes near the stairs, went to the kitchen by smell.

It's large, comfortable, and spacious, with bulky but beautiful dark furniture, a long and massive wooden table, and slightly pretentious wooden chairs all around. Opposite one of these chairs, Kreacher, without any respect, placed a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and bean stews. There was a lonely twisted bun on another plate, and right now, Kreacher was pouring a cup of coffee.

Thanking the house-elf, I had a quick bite. As soon as I put an empty cup of coffee on the saucer, Kreacher appeared.

"Mrs. Walburga wishes to speak with a strange guest of the House of Black."

In response, I just nodded and headed into the corridor, where on the wall was a firmly glued portrait of Lady Black so that she could see everything that was happening around her.

"Good morning, Lady Walburga," I nodded and sat down in the chair opposite the portrait.

"Good, Maximilian," the witch nodded to me from the portrait, sitting on her chair and smoking a cigarette. "What did you think about our conversation yesterday?"

"I do not know."

"Why are you repeating, "I don't know, I don't know!". What a stupid piece of the Blacks blood! This must be all Muggle upbringing!"

Obviously, she wants to provoke me, but for what?

"Too obvious provocation, Lady Walburga."

She looked at me carefully and nodded.

"Cold-blooded and sensible, like a mother. Anything better than a stupid, hot-tempered blood traitor. Find the ring. Even if you do not want to become the head of the family, which makes me very sad, then at least find a ring. There is simply no one else to do it. You can stay in the house. Kreacher will give access to the tutorial section of the library.

"Tutorial?" I asked in surprise.

"Did you think that you would immediately learn dark magic, as required by the traditions of the House? For the House, you are now just a stranger, albeit relative. Well, even if you were from birth in House, you will not see dark magic until you are fifteen anyway."

"Um… I've heard rumors that the Blacks are almost forcibly forced to learn dark magic from an early age. It is said that for this very reason Sirius ..."

"Don't remind me this vile traitor!" Walburga flared up, jumping up from the painted chair. "I do not want to hear the name of someone who, in the most difficult times, hypocritically and selfishly spat and turned away from the whole family, from ancestors and heritage! Trampled and thrown away like an old rag! He was supposed to be the next head. He was the heir! No one forced him to use dark magic, but he was obliged to know!"

Walburga calmed down for a few minutes, and only after regaining her peace of mind, sitting down on a chair and taking a couple of puffs, she spoke again.

"You probably noticed that all the ancient Houses have rather speaking surnames. Some are in Old English, and you just can't understand them. Some have roots in other languages. But this is not important. A long time ago, when there was no Statute of Secrecy and wizards lived side by side with Muggles ... Life was not sugar. Wars, epidemics, uprisings, invasions of all sorts of barbarians. Muggles gnawed Muggles' throats, wizards gnawed wizards. Some of the wizards served the crown, strengthening their positions, gaining power and influence, someone to petty feudal lords, and someone himself was this feudal lord. One fine day, several loyal friends and comrades who have gone through more than one or two magical battles decided to found their own House. Then it was just a group of strong combat wizards, and the concept of "dark magic" had a completely different framework. They were called Blackmare, after...

Walburga chuckled, clearly remembering something.

"After the lake. As time went on, children were born in the House. Then, none of them were still related to each other, so they got married, finally creating the House. But they did not stop doing their usual thing - war. The people then were simple and stupid. Therefore they called the members of the House only according to the first part - Black. The reason for this was the absolute ruthlessness and cruelty to the enemies, and the means were not chosen. So people called them - Black. Since then, and it was ... one thousand two hundred or so years ago, House was called Black, and the reputation was maintained in a simple way - ruthlessness to enemies and dark magic "for all occasions.""

"Hmm. It turns out that dark magic has become dark simply under the influence of fears and opinions of people?"

"Exactly! Fear, envy, hatred. Evil wizards are strong, evil wizards are terrible, evil wizards spare no one! Evil wizards must be beaten with sticks and burned at stake! And it doesn't matter that evil wizards have fought more than once or twice for their native lands and for dirty idiots. This is not easy to explain in a nutshell, but since then, the surname Black has become synonymous with dark magic, fear, death, and more. Many families turned their backs on us, betrayed us, declared war. The rootless did not understand and did not accept. Rare allies appeared from time to time, but much more - traitors, who were afraid of public opinion. They were afraid to preserve their history, customs, and traditions. This is the origin of the House's traditions - to know no less than ancestors, to improve in magic, dark, light, pink, it doesn't matter. Over time, this evolved into marriages with equally gifted families. Endowed with both knowledge, morality, and traditions. With those who value the past and their heritage. With those who are not afraid of condemnation or censure from the ignorant filthy garbage, of which the majority is around. In order to carry and increase the heritage through the centuries, not to lose and not dilute with fictional pseudo-morality and far-fetched principles. In order not to succumb to the pernicious influence of Muggle's ideas about some kind of light, love, and forgiveness. This is the purity of blood. This is the preservation and enhancement of heritage, without dividing it into "allowed" and "forbidden." The purity of blood cannot be taken literally. This is much more than just a pedigree. Those who have no ancestors, did not hold ancient books in their hands, did not feel the magic of dozens of generations, their aspirations, hopes, pain, and disappointments, will never understand, appreciate and accept this gift. There is no greater betrayal than to give a damn and throw away your kinship, family, all this. Even Muggles will not stoop to desecrating graves, although they have nothing close to such a kinship."

"Always pure, huh?"

"Always pure."