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HRHL# CHAPTER 275
🕑 Added 2025-08-20 03:50:14 +0000 UTCSirius Black was intensely curious about the Hufflepuff ghost trailing behind Harry, but the carriage was about to depart, so he held his questions.
Once they were settled in the carriage, noticing the curious glances from everyone, Sirius finally spoke up. “Harry, aren’t you going to introduce us to your new friend?”
“New friend?” Harry blinked, caught off guard, unsure of what Sirius meant.
Following Sirius’s and the others’ gazes, he spotted the ghostly figure of Poppy.
It dawned on him then—Poppy had always appeared as a unicorn, so it was no wonder they didn’t recognize her.
“Oh, you mean her,” Harry said with a chuckle. “Haven’t you met her before? Especially you, Sirius—how could you not know her?”
“Exactly! How could you not know me?” Poppy chimed in, placing her hands on her hips and speaking in a playful, lilting tone.
Her familiar voice sparked recognition among the group. This ghostly young lady was none other than Poppy!
“You’re Poppy?!” Hermione gasped, covering her mouth in shock.
“It’s hardly a secret,” Cassandra said, rubbing her forehead. “Though she’s a ghost now, she’s the genuine Poppy Sweating…”
“Good heavens, how did you…” Ron asked, incredulous. “How are you a ghost? Weren’t you a unicorn? Why are you a ghost now? Do all unicorn ghosts take human form?”
“Are you daft?” Hermione shot Ron a exasperated look. “Why would a unicorn’s ghost look human? It’d obviously be a unicorn! Clearly, Miss Poppy has some secret…”
At Hermione’s words, everyone turned to Poppy.
“Indeed,” Poppy said, shaking her head. “This is the consequence of practicing magical Animagus—Magus, to be precise. So, let this be a warning: don’t dabble in magical Animagus, or you might end up like me!”
“Magical Animagus?” Ron scratched his head, puzzled by the term.
“The so-called magical Animagus,” Hermione sighed, “refers to attempting to transform into a magical creature via Animagus magic. Even regular Animagus transformations carry significant risks, let alone something as dangerous as a magical Animagus.”
“So this is the result?” Sirius glanced at Poppy, struggling to accept that the warm-hearted unicorn girl was now a ghost.
She watched me eat that giant spider…
“That’s the result,” Poppy said with a silent laugh, leaning lightly against Harry. “Mr. Flamel—yes, the legendary alchemist Nicolas Flamel—suggested I stay close to Harry. Since he absorbed the Philosopher’s Stone in his first year, being near him could nourish my spirit and, in time, allow me to return to the living world. Right, Harry?”
As she spoke, Poppy looked up at Harry with a sweet smile.
Sirius froze.
Then Sirius was ecstatic!
Merlin’s beard!
Wasn’t this like a pillow arriving just as he was dozing off?
How could Harry be swayed by those two Slytherin women? A Hufflepuff like Poppy was clearly the better choice…
Just look at that ghostly girl’s eyes—positively melting with affection, like pulling apart a gooey cheese toastie. So much pull… more than mozzarella!
Sirius was convinced—absolutely convinced—that if Lily were still alive, she’d wholeheartedly approve of Hufflepuff Poppy, wouldn’t she?
Sirius indulged in his wishful thinking, oblivious to the fact that if Lily were alive and saw Harry entangled with his teacher, she’d proudly declare, “That’s my boy!”
Cassandra, meanwhile, wore a look of disdain. She was well aware this… donkey… unicorn… ghostly girl had a thing for Harry. But it wasn’t worth tossing her out of the carriage over something so trivial.
Still, she had to make her stance clear. Disdain was non-negotiable.
What a ridiculous donkey!
“I never would’ve guessed Harry was such a magnet for girls,” Sirius said with a mischievous grin, seizing the chance to play matchmaker. “I recall Miss Grindelwald being quite fond of Harry, too, no? And Miss Sweating… oh, and that Slytherin girl, too…”
“Oh, I’d advise you to clear those pink bubbles from your brain, Uncle Black,” Cassandra said, emphasizing “uncle” to remind Sirius of his place as an elder. Mind your words, old man.
If Veratia were here, she’d have caught the subtext in Cassandra’s tone.
But with a carriage full of Gryffindors and one Hufflepuff, expecting them to pick up on such subtleties was a bit optimistic.
“Alright, Padfoot,” Professor Lupin said with a yawn. “Miss Malfoy has a point. As an elder, how can you gossip about the youngsters like that?”
“Hey, since when am I an elder?” Sirius protested, clearly not ready to embrace the role. After all, his twelve years in Azkaban had frozen his mindset at just post-graduation.
As Lily used to say, besides James and Harry, she had a third son—Sirius.
“If you’re not an elder, then what are you?” Lupin shot him a sidelong glance.
“Right,” Sirius said, deftly changing the subject. “Miss Malfoy, I don’t recall Lucius Malfoy having a daughter. May I ask who your father is?”
“Septimus,” Cassandra replied without hesitation. “My father is Septimus Malfoy.”
Septimus Malfoy?
The name rang a bell, but Sirius couldn’t place where he’d heard it.
“I think I’ve heard of a Malfoy by that name, but I can’t recall where,” Sirius said with a shrug. “No matter, I was just curious, not digging for secrets. So, Miss Sweating, what materials do you need to return to life?”
“Mr. Flamel is searching for them,” Poppy said with a bright smile. “I believe he’s found a suitable spell, but it requires brewing a potion over time… around February next year, I think? I’m not entirely sure.”
“That’s soon!” Sirius said cheerfully, turning to Harry. “You’d better spend plenty of time with Miss Sweating, Harry, to ensure her revival goes smoothly. Wouldn’t want to mess it up, right?”
Sirius was practically itching to glue his godson to Poppy. In his mind, a Hufflepuff girl might not be the most romantic, but she was dependable and grounded—perfect wife material.
No, not just perfect—the ideal choice for a virtuous wife and mother.
She could grace a drawing room and manage a kitchen. Did anyone really expect a Malfoy like Cassandra to cook?
Sirius shuddered at the thought of Cassandra in a kitchen. She’d probably stew snake soup for Harry.
Ugh!
Cassandra’s lips twitched, as if she wanted to say something but held back.
Fine. Harry was here, and Sirius was his dog of a godfather.
She’d give him some face…
“How much longer?” she asked casually.
“Not long,” Sirius replied. “It’s been ages since I’ve been back. Since escaping Azkaban, I haven’t returned home. You lot probably don’t know what my mother was like. Merlin…”
“What was she like?” Ron asked, intrigued.
“Oh, ho,” Sirius said, not needing to think twice before offering a fitting description: “A vile harpy.”
“How can you say that about your own mother?” Hermione frowned.
Sirius didn’t take offense. He raised a finger, speaking with conviction. “You don’t know my mother, so don’t judge. If you can still say that after meeting her, I’ll accept your criticism.”
“Alright,” Hermione nodded, falling silent.
She couldn’t help but wonder: what kind of mother could make her son despise her so?
She was almost… excited to find out.
The carriage flew swiftly, arriving at the doorstep of Number 12 Grimmauld Place in less than half an hour.
The house’s front door looked like it hadn’t been maintained in years, its wood rotting. When Sirius pushed it, the door collapsed with a loud thud.
Almost instantly, a house-elf appeared before them.
The house-elf wore nothing but a filthy, tattered cloth around its waist. Its skin sagged, far too much for its small frame, and its bald head sprouted tufts of white hair from bat-like ears. Its bloodshot, grayish eyes and large, fleshy nose—almost pig-like—completed the picture.
“This is Kreacher,” Sirius introduced. “The Black family’s house-elf.”
To everyone’s surprise, Kreacher opened his watery eyes, glanced at Sirius, and sneered with disdain.
“Well, look who’s back—the beastly young master who betrayed the Black family. He has the gall to return. If Mistress saw this, she’d scold Kreacher for letting this family-disgracing filth back in.”
Kreacher’s voice was hoarse, like a bullfrog’s croak, as he bowed lower, muttering to his knees.
“Oh!” Hermione shot Kreacher a complex look, whispering to Ron, “He’s got a foul mouth…”
“There’s fouler,” Sirius said, unfazed by Kreacher’s attitude. “Clean up the house, Kreacher. My godson’s friends and I are staying here for Christmas, got it?”
He gestured to the group. “These are my friends: Lupin—you’ve met him. This is my godson, Harry Potter, and his friends: Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Poppy Sweating…”
Kreacher looked up, scanning them.
“I knew it,” he grumbled. “The blood-traitor young master has fallen so low, consorting with a Weasley and a Mudblood in Mistress’s ancestral home… and a ghost?”
“Oi, watch your tongue!” Ron snapped, annoyed.
Kreacher didn’t argue, just muttered reluctantly, “Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Merlin’s beard…”
But his muttering stopped abruptly when he saw Cassandra.
His eyes lit up.
“And this noble Slytherin lady is?” he asked.
“Cassandra,” Sirius said. “Cassandra Malfoy.”
“The esteemed Miss Malfoy of the Malfoy family!” Kreacher’s eyes gleamed. “Perhaps the traitor young master hasn’t fallen too far, making friends with a Slytherin…”
“She’s not my friend—she’s my godson’s,” Sirius corrected hastily, clearly eager to distance himself from anything Slytherin.
“It seems young Master Potter has fine taste—far better than his beastly godfather,” Kreacher said, bowing deeply to Harry and Cassandra. “Welcome, Master Potter, Miss Malfoy. Please, come in. Kreacher welcomes you.”
Sirius took a deep breath.
Fine. Whatever.
“Sorry,” Sirius said, turning to Hermione and Ron. “The Black family’s a bit… extreme. Sorry for the trouble.”
“It’s fine,” Hermione said, more intrigued than upset. Ron felt the same.
As they stepped into the Black family home, Harry felt an ominous chill.
Sure enough, a roar erupted from a portrait on the wall.
“Sirius Black!” the painting bellowed. “You have the nerve to show your face here, you filthy blood-traitor! Lower than a dog! I regret ever birthing you—a Yorkshire pudding would’ve been better than you, you wretched mongrel!”
“Good Lord’s holy mother!” Hermione yelped, startled by the outburst.
Sirius turned, wagging a finger at her. “No, no—not quite so holy, my mother.”
“You disgrace to pure blood! Rotten-hearted vermin, bringing a Mudblood into my house…” Mrs. Black continued her tirade, hurling verbal assaults to drive Sirius out.
Seeing her, Hermione’s expression softened with understanding.
“Sorry, Sirius,” she said, looking at him sincerely.
She swore, if she had a mother like that, she’d have jumped from the sixth floor long ago.
“Now you see what my mother’s like?” Sirius shrugged, unbothered. “She stuck her portrait here with a Permanent Sticking Charm, so I can’t get rid of her. Let’s just avoid her for the next few days to dodge her verbal attacks…”
But just as it seemed Mrs. Black would rant on forever, Phineas Black suddenly appeared in her portrait.
T/N: If you find any typos or incorrect names, please leave a comment. Thanks, and enjoy reading!
