A Fairly Peaceful Dinner

As Hermione walked up the steps leading to the underground Kitchen of the Black family manor, inhaling the rich aroma of stewed meat, her steps were lighter than when she arrived. She couldn't help but glance at the storage pendant around the man's neck.

Take a quick glance, then another...

"Your eyes are going to pop out if you keep turning them, Miss Granger."

Loren sighed and turned her face back to the front. "It's not that I don't want you to see, it's just that we don't have enough time. They're still waiting for us downstairs..."

"I'm not Professor Moody, how could my eyeballs fall out..." Hermione mumbled indistinctly as her face was pressed down.

"Your eyes keep rolling around, they might fall out like Professor Moody's. I'll personally put fake eyes in them for you and give you the nickname 'Magic Eye Granger '..." Loren pinched her soft cheeks.

Hermione winced in pain, angrily slapped his hand away, and glared at him with a dangerous look in her eyes.

Loren quickly looked straight ahead, his expression turning serious. "I wonder if Mrs. Weasley and the others have finished arguing... Let's keep the matter of Kreacher and the Horcrux a secret for now, and discuss whether to tell them after we see Headmaster Dumbledore. What do you think?"

"A clumsy attempt to change the subject."

Hermione touched her sore cheeks with her tongue and didn't pursue the matter of his offense.

Walking up the dimly lit stone steps, we arrived back at the underground Kitchen enclosed by rough stone walls. The fireplace and stove emitted bright flames, and the steam from the broth filled the air, mixed with the smoke from burning matches, just like the smoke of gunpowder on a battlefield.

The argument between the long table and the stove had not ended; it had just reached a fever pitch.

"Although he is only fifteen years old, he has experienced no less than most people in the Order of the Phoenix! In fact, more than some!" Sirius Black roared in a low voice, the veins on his neck bulging as he spoke.

"No one denies what he did!" Molly said sharply, facing the stove, her long ladle trembling slightly in her hand as she held the soup spoon. "But he still—"

"He's not a child anymore!"

"But he's not an adult either!" Molly tapped the pot with her long spoon. "Don't treat him like James, you know what I'm talking about, Sirius Black!"

"Thank you, I know exactly who he is, Molly."

"Then consider his age. He's still in school. Adults who are truly responsible for him shouldn't forget that!"

"Are you saying I'm an irresponsible godfather?" Sirius Black, somewhat embarrassed and annoyed, raising his voice.

"I never said that!" Molly threw the spoon into the pot, the handle clanging against the metal. She suddenly turned to the other two. "Arthur, Remus, what do you say?"

Arthur didn't speak immediately. Instead, he took off his glasses and slowly wiped the lenses on his robes, avoiding his wife's gaze. He carefully put his glasses back on before speaking, "Dumbledore knows the situation has changed, Molly. He's agreed that Harry must be informed of the latest developments to a certain extent, since Harry is now living at headquarters..."

"That's right, but that's different from encouraging him to ask random questions!"

"Personally speaking..." Lupin began, speaking softly, "I think it's best to let Harry know the truth from us, not all the facts, Molly, but just the general situation, so he doesn't get caught up in some confusing and unclear accounts..."

"May I say something?" Tonks timidly raised his hand and said in a low voice, "I think it's best to let Harry give his opinion on this matter."

The red-haired young wizards present all had their eyes light up; if Harry knew, it meant they knew too.

Mundungus had been keeping his head down, looked around. As the sixth adult wizard present, he thought he should say something, but after being glared at by Molly, he immediately shrank back.

"Alright..." Molly turned her head and looked around at everyone in the room, took a deep breath, and her lower lip trembled slightly. "It seems my opinion is going to be rejected. I just want to say that Dumbledore must have his reasons for not wanting Harry to know too much, and besides Harry ..."

Before she could finish speaking, George and Fred immediately got up and rushed to the stove, looking like good sons eager to help their mother with housework.

"The bread is ready. How about we eat and chat?"

"Yes, if we keep talking, the food will get cold."

The Twins used magic to lift a large pot of stew, a large iron kettle of Butterbeer, a heavy breadboard, and a knife into the air, where they floated shakily toward them.

First came the stew, which slid across the table and came to a stop right at the edge, leaving a long, charred mark on the wooden surface. The Butterbeer jug landed on the wooden table and was about to tip over, Bill quickly steadied it.

Finally, the bread knife fell off the board, its tip pointing downwards and embedding itself in the table, trembling menacingly.

"Somewhat unexpected."

"But it was a safe landing."

The Twins smiled sheepishly and looked cautiously at their mother.

Molly's expression was complicated, her face slightly flushed with resentment, and her eyes shone with an unusual light that swept over Ron, over Ginny, and finally landed on Hermione and Loren.

Loren nodded to her and smiled slightly.

Molly's eyes dimmed, like a deflated balloon; her shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly, and her voice lost its previous harshness. "Let's eat first..."

The Weasley family children were immediately overjoyed.

For the first few minutes of dinner, no one spoke; the only sounds were the clinking of plates and cutlery as everyone sat down to eat, the scraping of chairs against the stone floor, and the smacking of Mundungus and Ron's lips.

While eating, Tonks performed the Metamorphmagus to amuse Ginny. Every time she closed her eyes tightly and then opened them, her nose would suddenly swell up like a bird's beak, looking exactly like Snape's hooked nose, and then shrink back to the size of a button, with nose hairs sticking out of her nostrils.

"Can you turn into Pig Snout, Tonks?"

The young wizards' eyes were involuntarily drawn to it, and they were so amused by the comical appearance that they laughed so hard they were practically lying on the table, breathless.

Molly lowered her eyes, downed a whole glass of Butterbeer, and a slight flush rose on her face. "Okay, Harry... what do you want to know?"

The laughter at the table suddenly stopped, and even the clinking of knives and forks became quieter.

Harry paused for a moment, then asked in a deep voice, "I want to know where Voldemort is? What is he doing? I've been trying to find out about Muggle news, but I haven't found a single clue about him. No one has died mysteriously, and nothing has happened."

"That's because, so far, everything has been peaceful." Sirius Black cut into the steak on his plate without expression. "No one has died mysteriously, no Death Eater have caused trouble, and Azkaban is fine. We suspect he doesn't want to attract public attention..."

"Dumbledore was dismissed from his positions as Supreme Mugwump Ministry of Magic Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot after he announced Voldemort's return on several occasions..."

In the small underground Kitchen at 12 Grimmauld Place, Harry and his godfather chatted about what had happened since the summer holidays.

In reality, there was no valuable news. Voldemort and the Death Eater were still lying low, the Ministry of Magic was incompetent, and the Order of the Phoenix could only wait for the right opportunity.

There might be more closely guarded information, but only Dumbledore and Snape know it...

Loren listened silently, casually breaking off a piece of buttered bread and tossing it to the ginger kitten that was fiddling with the cork of Butterbeer bottle under the table. Crookshanks raised his persimmon-like face, glanced at him, disdainfully broke off the bread, picked up a piece of fried fish fillet from the cat food bowl behind him, placed it at his feet, and patted his ankle affectionately.

"..."

The Black family mansion was spacious enough and had plenty of bedrooms, but the number of made-up beds was limited.

Apart from Arthur and Molly, the adult wizards each have a bedroom and a bed, while the young wizards share a room in pairs. George and Fred share a room, and Hermione and Ginny, the two girls, naturally share a room.

Harry and Ron wanted to squeeze in with Loren, but he chose to have his own bedroom instead.

"I can do it myself, Mrs. Weasley."

Watching Molly busily preparing for him, Loren said softly, "You've had a busy day, go back and rest."

"Effortless work," Molly said, glancing casually down the hallway. "I still have to go to their rooms later to give them a warning. I told them all to go to bed immediately on the way upstairs, but I know they'll definitely stay up late, waiting for me to go back to my room for their own meeting. If not, I'm a Flobberworm ..."

"Meeting..." Loren remained silent, recalling the Weasley family children exchanging knowing glances as they went upstairs.

Harry and Ron had been trying to persuade him to share a room with them, since the rooms at Black House were spacious enough. Last year at the Burrow, five of them could fit in one room without any problem. Their plan was to get together for a little meeting in the evenings...

I thought this was nothing secret, but I didn't expect that parents are parents after all; they know what their own children are going to poop just by sticking their butts out...

"Anyway, I'll be patrolling the corridor. If I catch them not sleeping soundly, they'll be punished by cleaning the stairs tomorrow!" Molly smacked the sun-dried quilt fiercely. "You're more reliable, Loren, you didn't mess around with them."

Actually, he also had a small meeting to hold, but it was purely an academic conference. The main purpose was to examine the Horcrux they had just acquired with a certain little Witch. They had too little time earlier, and they wanted to take a closer look at what the Slytherin's Locket looked like and whether it had any strange Magic Power...

Loren's expression was somewhat strange. In the dim candlelight, he quickly glanced at Mrs. Weasley and said in a low voice, "It's normal for friends to chat after not seeing each other for a month."

Molly straightened the last corner of the blanket and raised her eyebrows. "Didn't they catch up at the dinner table? Won't they have time to catch up later?"

"You're right..." Loren paused, recalling the argument in the Kitchen, and slowly began, "However, rather than keeping him... completely confined in a safe cage, letting us fly might give us more ability to protect ourselves in the event of danger, don't you think, Mrs. Weasley?"

"I know, of course I know..." Molly stopped what she was doing, lowering her head slightly so that Loren wouldn't see her eyes, "But I can't stop worrying. I keep dreaming about you... about the scene of your deaths, about your corpses, about you lying on the cold floor, your limbs severed, blood flowing from your mouths..."

Her voice trembled with sobs. "Ever since that Triwizard Tournament of Goblet of Fire, I haven't had a good night's sleep, I..."

"No, it was just a dream..."

Loren's words of comfort sounded somewhat weak; he couldn't bring himself to tell the mother that everything would be alright and everyone would be okay.

"Just don't mess around with them, that's all. I'm going to remind Hermione to keep an eye on Ginny for me!" Molly clapped her hands, got up, and walked towards the door. "Sweet dreams, Loren!"

Goodnight, Mrs. Weasley ...

After closing the bedroom door and gently latching it, Loren stood quietly behind the door for a while before looking around the bedroom.

Perhaps because the old house had been abandoned for so long, a faint musty smell lingered in the air. The candles, torches, gas lamps, and Oil Lamp scattered throughout the house were all too old, their dim light only making the rooms appear darker and more eerie.

Loren stood in front of the bedroom wall, carefully observing the blank canvas in front of him.

Faded portrait paintings are common in old houses. Many years ago, perhaps an ancestor of the Black family lived here, often able to converse with the people in the room, guiding the Black family children with his profound knowledge and experienced wisdom...

But after years of erosion and neglect, the Magic Power of the oil painting faded along with the ink, leaving only a blank canvas. Only by looking closely can one discern some lines and outlines, as if an unseen person lives inside, and one can hear the rising and falling of their breath.

The portrait is too weak; it has almost no Magic Power response, and the portrait inside can no longer speak or go to other frames.

Loren slightly beckoned with his finger, and the picture frame flipped over, its front facing the wall.

"Hermione probably won't be able to come until Ginny falls asleep..."

He muttered something to himself, reached out and touched the pendant on his chest, and took out an exquisite and antique gold pendant box.

The main body is divided into two parts: a necklace and a pendant box. The chain is made up of dozens of tiny metal rings that are interlocked and connected to each other. The octagonal pendant box is inlaid with many small and exquisite emeralds on the sides. Even after thousands of years, it still retains a deep luster. In the center is a round bulge the size of an egg.

A snake-shaped S divides the space into two small windows, with something hidden beneath them.