Chapter 681: Kreacher, you don't want the house to be sold, do you? (Edited)

Hermione's values shattered. Until today, she had done her best to imagine how wizards enslaved and exploited house-elves. But when she truly understood how pure-blood wizarding families treated their own house-elves, she was shocked to find that she had idealized the elves' situation too much.

In Hermione's original assumptions, house-elves must have been coerced by wizards to work overtime, with no guarantee of benefits or labor protection. But who would have imagined that this wasn't about overtime or lack of benefits but rather a system of servitude that would make even plantation owners in 19th-century America blush!

To say it was a system of servitude would be an understatement—the treatment of house-elves was worse than that of slaves!

"This, this..." Hermione looked at the row of heads, her face pale and unable to say a word. Finally, two tears fell from her beautiful eyes and spilled onto the floor.

Sirius sighed and told Hermione, "They do it voluntarily—"

"Voluntarily?" Hermione angrily interrupted Sirius before he could finish. She had never been so furious. Now, a bloodthirsty buzz was ringing in her ears, her temples throbbed, "Are you saying all these creatures willingly had their heads chopped off? Don't make me laugh!"

Tom approached, took her hand, and embraced the angry Hermione to calm her.

"In fact, they do it voluntarily." Tom's words only further infuriated Hermione.

She turned to Tom in disbelief. She knew Tom wouldn't lie to her at times like this. If he said it was voluntary, then it was voluntary, not the other way around.

Hermione imagined an old and worn-out creature lying on a filthy bed, held by a wizard's hand, begging to have its head cut off...

She shuddered.

"If you don't believe me, you can ask Kreacher." The unexpected turn of events also startled Sirius, and he now felt somewhat aggrieved by Hermione's reaction. "This was the work of my loathed aunt, why are you yelling at me? Do you think this is what I want? Do you find it amusing to see a row of heads grow?"

Kreacher appeared by the wall at some point.

"Kreacher will become a part of this, it is an honor for Kreacher," he murmured quietly, sending a spine-chilling shiver. From his sincere and devout expression, Hermione couldn't believe he was lying.

"This is brainwashing..." Hermione was stunned, first stunned, then she reacted quickly, "He never received proper education since birth, the wizards twisted him..."

"It's not like that." Kreacher, once again, refuted with a deep voice and vehemently denied what Hermione said. He assured them that no brainwashing had occurred, all his decisions were voluntary.

Only house-elves who faithfully serve the noble and pure House of Black can be honored here.

Hermione fell silent.

After a long while, she looked at Kreacher seriously and asked, "So, do you accept living without a salary, without holidays, and even without clothing?"

"Of course!" Kreacher looked at Hermione as if she were a fool, feeling that she was stating the obvious.

"Then, have you ever imagined what your life would be like or what your ideal life would be?" Hermione shifted her focus and was genuinely interested in understanding the inner thoughts of these house-elves. She was eager to understand them more.

"To protect the ancient and sacred House of Black, to protect this magnificent and pure mansion, to serve the young master, and to prevent dirty people like you from entering and changing everything here."

Hermione: ...

She thought she would be the liberator of the house-elves, but she never imagined it would be a headache and a problem in her path. Faced with this distorted worldview, Hermione withdrew. She closed her mouth and looked compassionately at the helpless creature in front of her, feeling depressed.

Tom, sensing something unusual in Hermione, hugged her tighter, hoping his warm embrace would comfort her. Feeling her boyfriend's goodwill, Hermione responded positively and nestled into his arms, allowing him to hold her even tighter.

Lupin, seeing the display of affection between the two, rolled his eyes and looked away. He was a werewolf, but he didn't enjoy seeing so much public displays of affection.

As for Sirius, he didn't mind Tom and Hermione's gesture. What concerned him the most were Kreacher's words. Seeing that Kreacher had fallen silent, he looked at him and, with some mockery in his voice, commented, "Protect this place? When I came back, I didn't see this place being taken care of. What have you been protecting?"

Kreacher bowed, looking down at his feet as he replied, "The Mistress Black passed away, and the young master was sent to Azkaban. No one gives orders to Kreacher anymore. The Mistress's last order was to stay here and do as he pleased, but Kreacher doesn't like doing as he pleases. He just wants to stay here and keep strangers from invading and taking over this place."

A bitter sensation settled in everyone's hearts. To the Black family, Kreacher was either a useful servile creature or an annoying nuisance. However, to Kreacher, the Black family, the mansion, and the people inside, whether lovable or despicable, were the entire meaning of his existence.

He was so devoted that after the Mistress of the house's death, he didn't even know what to do.

If the order left by Mistress Black before her death was "take care of everything here," perhaps when Sirius returned, this place would be immaculate. But evidently, not even Sirius's mother had any hope that anyone would return. Because the Black family had died out. Sirius had been sentenced to life in Azkaban.

Life imprisonment in Azkaban meant exactly that, no reduction in sentence, no bail, no parole; much worse than non-magical world sentences.

In the non-magical world, as long as it's not a death sentence, you generally don't die in prison. Life sentences become long-term sentences, long-term sentences become fixed-term sentences, and finally, many people are released after only ten or twenty years in prison. It's no wonder some countries like to impose sentences of hundreds of years on criminals—you can reduce the sentence! But how can you reduce hundreds of years of imprisonment? This way, an effective de facto life sentence is achieved.

Of course, the magical world doesn't have these complications. Those sentenced to life in Azkaban never come out alive. Sirius was a historical exception; it's unknown if there will be others in the future, but there certainly weren't any before him.

From Mistress Black's perspective, there was no need to maintain this mansion. What was the point of cleaning it until it was spotless? To make it easier for thieves to steal?

"Well, well, I'll take you to my younger brother's room," Sirius said, unable to accept the current atmosphere. So, he broke the ice and prepared to take Hermione for a walk through his brother's room.

"A squanderer expelled from the family tree, bringing along a mudblood to steal treasures from the Black family... Thieves are hard to avoid. If my poor mistress..." After hearing Sirius's words, Kreacher began muttering quietly once more.

It seemed he had no idea he was saying everything he thought. Or maybe... he knew what he was saying but was just playing dumb.

"Shut up!" Sirius exploded in anger. "Listen to me! I am now the rightful heir of the Black family, and I have full control here! How I manage my finances is my business, and it's not for you to tell me what to do. I swear by Merlin, if you say one more word, I... I..."

Sirius seriously considered how he could scare Kreacher even more, and suddenly, he had an idea.

"I'm going to sell this mansion at a low price! Just for a knut!"

Kreacher lifted his head, surprised, unable to believe what he was hearing.

"This is the ancestral home of the Black family, a reflection of the honor of the Black family, and it's filled with countless treasures. How can you sell it, and for just one knut?"

Seeing Kreacher's surprise, Sirius felt very satisfied. "Because I'm the owner of this house, Kreacher, I decide. Do you want it, Yodel? If you pay a knut, this mansion will be yours."

"No!" Kreacher knelt on the floor and cried out in a hoarse, heart-wrenching voice, "Young master, please have mercy..."

His hoarse, tearful voice sent a shiver through everyone present, and his words evoked a sense of sadness and tears in those who heard him.

"I'm serious, Tom, if you want..." Sirius began to say.

"It's not necessary," Tom interrupted. He couldn't carry out the action of buying the mansion for a knut, even if it was a voluntary choice by Sirius.

"If you want, you could leave it in Harry's hands," Tom suggested without much thought.

"Good idea!" Sirius brightened immediately. He didn't have any descendants anyway, so who else would he leave it to? As for how Harry would handle things here, it was no longer his concern.

Seeing that the controversy over selling the house seemed to have ended, Kreacher got up from the floor and bowed respectfully to Tom. "Young master, you are a noble and virtuous person-"

"That's enough," Sirius interrupted impatiently. "If you dare to disrespect my guests, I'll sell the mansion and give you a piece of clothing!"

Sirius seemed to have found the most effective way to threaten Kreacher. Upon hearing this, Kreacher's body trembled slightly. Selling the mansion and receiving a piece of clothing was the most terrifying thing for him!

Kreacher trembled and stammered, "Serving the Black family is the sole purpose of my existence; their orders are everything to me."

"In that case, disappear from my sight... go prepare some food; I want my guests to have lunch here."

"Yes." Kreacher bowed and then snapped his fingers, disappearing from view. Perhaps it was just Tom's illusion, but he had the feeling that Kreacher muttered some curses silently before vanishing.

"So now you understand why I don't like staying in my own house?" Sirius said, looking at Tom and the other two, still complaining non-stop. "His mind has been filled with too many twisted ideas by my mother, pure-blood purity and all that, it's simply unbearable. I'll educate him properly, but first, let's go to my brother's room." As he spoke, he headed for the stairs.

Tom was pessimistic about the education Sirius mentioned. He didn't believe Sirius could change Kreacher's mindset. After all, it was something that had taken a lifetime to develop; it wouldn't be easy to change it.

Sirius and his brother's room was on the top floor of the mansion. They climbed the stairs and reached the landing of the top floor, where there were two doors. In front of the stairs was a door with a sign that read "Sirius," indicating it was his room. And right in front of that door was another door with a sign that said:

[No entry without my express permission. Regulus Arcturus Black]

Obviously, that warning didn't apply to his brother. Sirius disregarded his brother's warning and opened the door with an unlocking spell.

"Aren't you afraid of some magical curse?" Hermione looked at Sirius's recklessness with concern. She knew many wizards set up magical traps in their rooms to attack intruders.

"Him?" Sirius scoffed at his brother. "If he had the courage for that, I'd change my name to Venus."

To Sirius, he understood Regulus's cowardice. He knew that Regulus was only strong in words and wouldn't actually stop anyone if they tried something.

The four crossed the threshold and entered the room. Regulus's room was decorated extremely luxuriously, clearly belonging to an affluent family. In his bedroom, the silver and green colors of Slytherin were everywhere, covering the bed, walls, and windows. It looked as if they were in the Slytherin dormitory at Hogwarts.

On the headboard of the bed, there was a finely crafted Black family coat of arms with a French motto:

[Always pure]

Below the motto were many yellowed newspaper clippings. Hermione stepped closer to take a look.

"They're clippings about Voldemort; it seems he was his follower at first and then became a Death Eater..."

Tom made a disgusted noise, while Sirius snorted loudly.

No wonder Tom looked down on Regulus. Being a follower of Voldemort was fine, but becoming a Death Eater was simply unacceptable! It was so insignificant!

How about being a fan of Grindelwald?

On the headboard of the bed, there was also a photo of a Slytherin Quidditch team from Hogwarts.

"He's the Seeker for Slytherin," Sirius explained to Tom, pointing to his brother in the photo.

Regulus was also a dark-haired boy, just slightly thinner and not as handsome as Sirius.

As if feeling someone was pointing at and talking about him, Regulus in the photo waved towards the camera.

"Well, look for clues quickly! Let's see if there's anything here that can help you." Sirius averted his gaze from the photo and started searching drawers and closets on his own.