Chapter 189 12 Grimmauld Place
Evan, Harry, and Hermione donned their robes as quickly as possible. Evan also purposely wrapped Hermione's scarf around his neck.
They set off to Hogsmeade with Sirius Black at the lead.
Before leaving the castle, they encountered Professor McGonagall. Although she agreed to let the three of them leave Hogwarts for Christmas, her somber face and furrowed brow showed that she did not agree with Sirius at all.
Evan, Harry, and Hermione were very glad not to have to stay in the common room.
Standing on the empty, snowy streets of Hogsmeade, Sirius informed them that he would take the three of them to Diagon Alley where Lupin was.
Tonight, everyone would be there for Christmas, a perfect Christmas.
Then, after the Christmas holidays, he would bring them back to Hogwarts.
"How will we get to Diagon Alley? Are we using the Floo Network?" Harry asked Sirius.
"No, I have already booked the Knight Bus. However, before we go to Diagon Alley, we have to go to an unpleasant place, not connected to the Floo Network," Sirius explained. "We are going there to get Christmas gifts for Evan and Hermione. Although I really do not want to go back there, there is really no better place than that."
"An unpleasant place?" Evan froze. "Where there is a Christmas gift for me and Hermione?"
He did not know what place Sirius was referring to, nor what he was going to give them. Just as he was about to ask, the Knight Bus appeared in the air, hurtling towards them.
The four hurried to dodge it, and the Knight Bus stopped where they had just been, with a loud bang.
The conductor, Stan Shunpike, jumped onto the sidewalk and greeted them enthusiastically.
"Merry Christmas, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Knight Bus, just extend your wand hand, hop on board, and we'll take you wherever you want to go..."
Shunpike suddenly stopped, and first saw Harry.
"Look who we have here, isn't it Neville? How are you?" he said.
"Neville?" Sirius repeated in a strange manner. "This is Harry Potter!"
"Harry Potter?!" Stan paused, then excitedly exclaimed, "I knew I had seen this scar before."
Stan seemed excited, but Harry felt embarrassed.
A few months ago, he had boarded the Knight Bus on the Muggle streets heading to Diagon Alley. He had inflated his aunt, left the Dursleys alone and powerless, and then he had met Evan and seen Sirius for the first time.
"Why didn't you tell us you were Harry Potter, Neville?" Stan asked, smiling at Harry, "Yes, and what about your strange black cat?"
Now it was Evan's turn to feel embarrassed. He couldn't imagine what would happen if Stan found out he was the black cat at that moment.
"Let's get on the bus, it's too cold outside, I'm freezing!" said Evan.
"Of course, come aboard," Stan stepped back, then looked up and saw Sirius, "God, you're Sirius Black, I just saw your picture in the 'Daily Prophet.'"
Stan's eyes shifted from Sirius to Evan and Hermione, his face growing more and more excited. He shouted, "You're Evan Mason, you're Hermione Granger! I saw you in the newspaper too..."
The four boarded the bus. Perhaps because it was Christmas today, there was no one else in the carriage except the driver.
They sat on the brass bed, and Shunpike pulled out the newspaper he had recently picked up. The entire newspaper was dedicated to the incident involving Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew.
Evan saw pictures of himself, Harry, Hermione, and Ron. The photos were taken when Fudge presented them with a special contribution award last year. The story of the four was then detailed.
Shunpike continued to insist that he never knew anything about all this and asked the four individuals to sign autographs. In that atmosphere, Evan couldn't bring himself to ask Sirius where they were headed.
More than an hour later, the night bus docked in the middle of a small square with long awnings.
Evan disembarked from the bus, and the houses around the square had a dingy appearance, unwelcoming to visitors. Some of the houses had broken windows and were deserted. The paint was peeling off many doors, and a pile of garbage accumulated on the front steps.
"Where are we?"
"Grimmauld Place!" Sirius's expression turned grave, with mixed feelings of nostalgia and revulsion on his face.
Grimmauld Place?!
Evan's heart skipped a beat; this was the location of the ancestral home of the Black family.
Black led the three down a deserted street filled with pungent odors, stopping in front of a house with a sign on the door that read 12 Grimmauld Place.
Unlike all the ordinary houses in the vicinity, Number 12 Grimmauld Place was exceedingly majestic and noble, yet it was also in ruins, like a ghostly mansion.
The black paint on the door was deteriorating and scratched, and the silver door handle was twisted in a serpent-like shape. It had no locks or mailboxes.
Sirius drew his wand and rapped the door once. Evan heard many loud metallic clicks and what seemed to be the clatter of a chain. A few seconds later, the door creaked open.
"Come in quickly," whispered Sirius. "But don't wander too far inside and don't touch anything."
Evan, Harry, and Hermione were nervous as they ventured into the gloom of the hallway. They could smell the scent of dampness, dust, and a sweet yet musty odor.
The place had the atmosphere of an abandoned building. Harry took the lead, with Evan and Hermione peering over his shoulders.
In the foyer, where sunlight filtered through, there were magnificent and exquisite aristocratic decorations, but they were covered in dust. This house exuded a strange feeling, as if they had stepped into a dying man's chamber.
"Where are we, Sirius?" Evan heard Harry ask; he was stunned by the thick dust and coughed forcefully.
"We are in my parents' house, the Black family mansion!" replied Sirius, with a hint of disdain in his tone. "But it's mine now."
With a gentle flick of his wand, they heard a soft hiss, and then old gas lamps flickered to life along the walls, casting a flickering and ethereal light on the peeling wallpaper and the worn carpet of a long, gloomy hallway, where a cobweb-filled chandelier gleamed above and portraits blackened by age hung askew on the walls.