This Works Better Than Book Learning

Upon hearing Walburga's words, Veratia did not respond immediately, but instead turned her head to look at Harry.

Seeing that Harry didn't express any dissatisfaction with Walburga, he smiled and replied, "I'm honored too."

Mrs. Black.

Walburga is feeling absolutely wonderful right now. In the past, under the dominance of the second the Dark Lord, all the Pure-blood families had to defer to him and dared not show any excessive closeness.

But what about now?

Don't even mention that the first the Dark Lord was my son's godson; just consider the infamous Dark Wizard Grindelwald —his sister was also so close to me.

The difference is even more apparent when compared to the other side, especially for someone like Walburga who has a condition called paranoia.

so.-

Dark Lord? Pshaw, I'm really not familiar with him, okay?

If the Dark Lord gains power, even if Regulus is still alive, the Black family might not fare well. Following him would mean walking on eggshells, fearing they might be Avada by him one day.

But this the Dark Lord in front of him, surely he wouldn't mistreat his Godfather?

What Walburga was obsessed with was not bloodline, but whether the Black family's glory could be restored.

Moreover, these two in front of me are pure-blood wizard in the broad sense, so there's nothing I can't accept.

"I'll take Veratia up first, Mrs. Black." Harry smiled modestly at Walburga's portrait.

"Please do as you please. I will instruct Kritcher to treat you well," Walburga said with a smile. "Don't be shy here, make yourself at home."

Veratia smiled politely at Walburga and followed Harry up the stairs.

"It's clear that Mrs. Black likes you very much," Harry said softly to Veratia.

Veratia gave him a charmingly disdainful look. "Yeah, she likes you a lot too, doesn't she? After all, you were the first the Dark Lord, and also the godson of her dog son—."

"Hey!" Harry said, disgruntled. "He's still my Godfather, how come he's become a dog's son?" Veratia reached out and hugged Harry's arm, beginning a squeezing attack. "Look, Harry, isn't our Godfather Animagus form—a big Black Dog?"

Yes, our Godfather—

"Yes, that's right." Harry was a little distracted. He knew Veratia was using some tricks, but he still fell for her sweet talk.

The main thing is that this sugar-coated bullet is very sweet.

"So that's it! You see, isn't he—" Veratia leaned down and whispered in Harry's ear, "Mrs. Black's dog son?"

"Yes, that's true," Harry nodded.

"See, you agree with me, don't you?" Veratia said with a light laugh, pulling Harry's arm back forcefully.

Harry thought about it again and again, and finally agreed with Veratia's statement.

He would never admit that he was misled by Veratia's sense of justice.

When the two of them went upstairs together, they found that they were still in Sirius's bedroom.

Sirius was lying on the floor, reaching under the bed to grab something.

"There are no spiders this time," Sirius said, reassuring Ron. "Don't worry, Ron, believe me, the spiders were just an accident. Look at this—"

He pulled a wooden box from under the bed, inside which seemed to be something struggling.

"Look," Sirius said proudly, patting the wooden box. "This is my old collection, Quidditch supplies—"

"Incredible!" Ron's eyes Winky as he crouched down to examine the wooden box.

The wooden box had the words "Do Not Open - Unless You Want Bludger to Knock Out Your Teeth" scrawled in red paint on it.

"As mentioned above, you'd better not open it."

As soon as Sirius finished speaking, Ron slammed the wooden box open.

The moment it opened, a huge, Bludger came out and slapped Ron across the face.

"Merlin's bat!" Ron mumbled, "I feel like my front teeth are going to be knocked out!"

"I warned you, there were writings on the box too." Sirius immediately distanced himself from the situation. "I already advised you, so don't blame me for not reminding you."

"It just hurts so much," Ron complained, clutching his face and turning to Hermione. "Are you disfigured? Hermione? Check if you're disfigured—."

Hermione glanced disdainfully at Ron's slightly swollen face, shook her head, and said, "I prefer to use another word—plastic surgery."

Cassandra, standing to the side, put her small pink fist to her lips, trying to hide her smile.

It must be admitted that Gryffindor sometimes have some very good qualities, such as being sharp-tongued.

"Are you alright, Ron?" Harry asked with concern.

Ron then noticed Harry walking back and complained, covering his face, "Oh my god, I'm in so much pain— Harry."

"It's okay, just like Hermione said, maybe it's helping you get plastic surgery too," Harry said with a smile. It's such a wonderful experience to tease your best friend.

"Professor Lupin, Mr. Black," Veratia greeted the two "elders."

Lupin smiled gently at Veratia, while Sirius looked up, but seeing his godson's crazed gaze beside him, he finally let out a long sigh.

"Hello, Miss Grindelwald."

Veratia was somewhat surprised; she thought Sirius would react strongly and try to break her and Harry up.

Since he was so sensible, Veratia wouldn't mind acknowledging this elder for Harry's sake.

"So what are you doing?" Veratia asked curiously.

"Let me show them where I used to live." Sirius put his hands on his hips and looked around. "Look, this is my old room—"

"Looks like you're into Muggle girls." Veratia glanced at Sirius with a half-smile, then at Harry. "Too bad you haven't set a good example as Godfather."

Sirius's face turned red, and he kept saying things like "putting up Muggle girl posters doesn't mean I like it," and other incomprehensible words like "it's just a magazine." For a moment, the room was filled with a cheerful atmosphere.

"No, you've misunderstood," Veratia said after Sirius's frantic attempt to save face for her. "I just feel that you haven't fulfilled your obligation to ensure your godson has a proper understanding of love."

The subtext is: Since you're so fond of indulging in beautiful women, can you also teach your son to be more discerning?

But what she didn't know was that Harry had actually figured it out a long time ago, perhaps even a little too much.

Right now, Harry is thinking about taking more than his share; you are all his wings, and he doesn't want to let any of you down.

"You really dare to say that, Grindelwald," Cassandra said casually from the side. "I'm not afraid of what Mr. Black will do to Harry, I'm more afraid that you'll corrupt Harry."

"Oh?"

Veratia squinted at Cassandra, her lifelong nemesis.

"I'd like to know, how can I corrupt Harry?"

"I don't need to explain that; Grindelwald —you know it in your heart."

Cassandra crossed her arms, thinking to herself—this Grindelwald, for so many years she has been trying to raise Harry into a little guy who only needs to rely on her, instead of letting Harry grow into a legendary wizard who stands tall and proud. She is wicked, and the Germans are more cunning than anyone else!

Veratia ignored her, assuming Cassandra was just making fun of her.

"Alright, we should go down for dinner now," Sirius began to smooth things over. "Don't you agree, Miss Sweeting?"

Sirius called out, but Pabbie didn't respond.

He turned his head and saw Pabbie standing to the side, sleeping soundly with her head down.

"Miss Sweeting? Miss Sweeting?"

Pabbie snapped out of her daze, instinctively jumping up and down, wiping the glistening tears from her lips. "What, what is it?"

"Looks like she's been Unicorn for so long she's forgotten how to sleep as a human." Cassandra glanced at Pabbie up and down. "It seems she still sees herself as a donkey, not a human."

"You're the donkey!" Pabbie retorted, not to be outdone. "You venomous old snake!"

"Yes, Pabbie." Veratia walked over to Pabbie, patted Pabbie head, and said, "Don't listen to what this sharp-tongued woman has to say. You know she never says anything nice."

As she said this, Veratia subtly gave Cassandra a defiant look.

She had seen in Mr. Granger's secret collection of books the idea of uniting everyone who could be united.

And Pabbie, who was standing in front of her, was someone she needed to unite with.

The important thing is not to let Cassandra unite us to her side, but rather to prevent her from being rallied by Cassandra.

Before Cassandra could say anything, Kritcher appeared before them.

"Young master Excellency, and Young Master Potter," Kritcher said with a bow, "Old Kritcher has prepared a sumptuous dinner for you and your guests. Please proceed to the dining room."

"A restaurant?" Ron muttered. "Is it also neglected to be cleaned like this place?"

Kritcher didn't say anything; he just muttered "Pure-blood traitor Weasley" before leaving Sirius's bedroom.

"He's always been like this, you don't need to look at me." Sirius smiled indifferently, "It should be said that this family has instilled many inappropriate ideas in him, and this is not something that can be changed overnight."

"What can I say?" Ron shrugged. "For the sake of dinner, I'll let it slide—if there were chicken legs, I might even thank him."

"You still can't forget about chicken legs, Ron," Hermione said with a shake of her head and a sigh.

She thought Ron was hopeless; in his eyes, nothing was more important than a chicken leg.

It should be said that the restaurant was not as neglected as Ron imagined, but rather as magnificent as it had been back then.

This perfectly suits the Black family's style, and this decoration was originally chosen by Phineas Black.

"He really wants to plaster gold all over the walls," Cassandra said of Phineas.

Even though they were both Slytherin and Pure-blood families, Cassandra still didn't hold back.

After all, Phineas was the most unpopular Headmaster in Hogwarts' history, and even his son Sirius II Black hated him.

"Wow!" Ron cheered, sitting down to the side. "There really is a chicken leg! How did Kritcher know my preferences?"

"Perhaps he just happened to have a recipe for chicken legs," Hermione said, sitting down next to Ron. "But I think Kritcher must be exhausted from all that work. God —I've never understood why wizards enslave House Elf to work for them, treating them like servants, behaving and even beating them. Don't House Elf deserve respect?"

Ron looked up in confusion, wondering what was wrong with Hermione.

But Veratia knew that this little girl was clearly suffering from a "saintly syndrome."

Back in the palace, some well-fed noble ladies had nowhere to vent their energy, so they liked to show off their compassion everywhere—some sympathized with cats, some sympathized with dogs, but no one sympathized with the poor who were homeless, sold their children, and couldn't get enough to eat.

Some people are simply trying to move themselves, while others are creating a persona.

It seems Hermione is the first type. Veratia didn't say anything, but just thought Hermione needed some harsh lessons from society.

Why are House Elf servants of wizards? And what does that have to do with me?

However, she did not expect that Hermione's retribution would come so quickly.

"That damned Mudblood is basking in old Kritcher's misplaced affection. I don't know if she's trying to move herself or anyone else here—but old Kritcher doesn't need the pity of a lowly Mudblood. It disgusts him."

Kritcher muttered to himself, loud enough for everyone present to hear clearly.

In fact, everyone can hear it.

Hermione was clearly taken aback by Kritcher's words, especially after she had gone to such lengths to advocate for Kritcher.

But I never expected to be insulted so harshly.

The little girl had never suffered such injustice before; her eyes reddened, and tears welled up in them.

"Sometimes, this is even more effective than book education," Cassandra remarked sarcastically from the side.

Sirius coughed twice and snapped, "Kritcher! Tell Hermione!"

Kritcher looked up, gave Sirius a wary look, and reluctantly reached for the rag to continue wiping the table next to him.

"Alright, old Kritcher will give you mud—"

"I won't allow you to use those words again!" Sirius commanded once more.

"Old Kritcher apologizes to Miss Granger." Kritcher's voice betrayed no remorse whatsoever. "I hope she won't be thinking about herself all the time when she's bored and has nothing better to do."

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Happy First Day of Lunar New Year!