A disheveled, weary old owl stumbled into the kitchen, nearly bumping into the hanging pots and pans, before finally crashing onto the table with a thud.
That's truly tragic.
Such an old owl actually has to deliver messages!
Morris couldn't help but feel some sympathy.
But he quickly came to terms with it.
He was thinking of his poor little owl, Yanhua, who had to keep working for him even after he died.
"Oh, Errol!" George ran over and gently patted the old owl's head. "You seem a little late today."
Errol gave a weak call in response.
Meanwhile, a newspaper lay open on the table, revealing a wanted poster for Sirius Black.
"It's Sirius Black," Fred quickly leaned in. "He's been in every issue of the Daily Prophet lately."
George said jokingly, " Morris, you'd better watch out, since you share his last name. Ah, maybe the Ministry of Magic will arrest you."
Morris smiled. "I have nothing to do with this Black."
"Are there many Muggle with the surname Black?" Arthur suddenly asked.
"That's quite a lot," Morris said.
While not a common surname, Black is still relatively common.
Arthur stared intently at Morris's face, his brow furrowed, as if trying to recall something.
Morris was somewhat puzzled by the look of his gaze. He put down his teacup and asked, "What is it, Mr. Weasley?"
Arthur snapped out of his daze, blinked, and looked away from Morris's face, then involuntarily glanced at the wanted poster in the newspaper.
He shook his head. "Nothing, I just suddenly remembered something from a long time ago. I met Sirius Black, of course, before he went to jail."
The room fell silent for a moment.
Even the twins stopped whispering and looked at Arthur with curiosity.
"Go on, Dad," Fred and George urged at the same time.
They hate people who only say half of what they mean.
" Arthur, don't mention this in front of the children, especially now." Molly, her expression displeased.
"It's alright, Molly." Arthur patted his wife's hand to reassure her, then turned to Morris, "I just wanted to say that when Sirius Black young... he was quite a handsome fellow, about your age."
Morris felt this wasn't a compliment about his looks.
His expression turned somewhat strange, and he tilted his head slightly. " Mr. Weasley, could it be... that you believe Sirius Black is my biological father?"
"Cough, cough." Arthur choked on his own saliva, waving his hands frantically, his face flushing slightly. "Of course not! Merlin's beard, I didn't mean that! I'm sure Sirius Black has no offspring. He spent over ten years in Azkaban, and before that, he was always... well, anyway, impossible."
Morris chuckled. "Just kidding."
In fact, he also thought it was impossible.
However, Arthur did not completely let go of the topic.
"Jokes aside," he said thoughtfully, "But you... you might very well be related to the Black family."
"Oh?" Morris raised an eyebrow. "Why would you say that? Are you guessing?"
"Not entirely," Arthur said. "Remember when we went to Egypt for our holiday?"
Morris nodded. "It's in the newspapers. Ah, you're really lucky."
These words brought smiles to the faces of the Weasley family.
After all, this was indeed a rare stroke of luck for them, who were not well-off financially.
"But what does that have to do with my background?" Morris continued to ask.
Arthur leaned forward slightly and explained, "While I was wandering around Egypt, one day in the market I met an old witch who claimed to be Seer."
"Oh, Dad, you actually believe that?" Fred couldn't help but interject.
"Don't interrupt," Arthur gestured for his son to be quiet. "I didn't believe it at first either, but she said something very specific to me that forced me to stop."
He said, "Lucky redhead, before this summer ends, you will meet a young man who will be of great help to you in the future. But be careful, that person comes from a family of criminals."
"That's roughly the idea, but I can't remember the specifics."
As soon as he finished speaking, everyone's eyes were once again focused on Morris.
"Dad!" Fred exclaimed, nearly startling Errol into jumping out of his skin. "Why are you only telling me now about something so important!"
Arthur gave an embarrassed look. "I just remembered. That old witch was being all mysterious and cryptic. I just thought it was some kind of money-making scheme."
Morris nodded thoughtfully.
"This Prophecy can be taken as a reference," he said slowly, his voice steady. "After all, the timing and the content are too coincidental. I grew up in Muggle orphanage, so the possibility that my parents were connected to the Black family clan cannot be ruled out."
"It's just a guess after all," Molly said gently. "What's the point of believing the ramblings of an old witch? Morris, my dear, don't let it cloud your judgment. Besides, it's normal for wizards to have some connections. If we're really going to get to the bottom of this, our family is related to the Black family clan."
"That's true." George nodded.
"That's right," Arthur agreed, looking at Morris. "Don't take it to heart, Morris, it's nothing important. I was just mentioning it casually."
In fact, Morris didn't care at all.
how?
Is there any inheritance involved?
The conversation dropped to the background, Mrs. Weasley slipped into the kitchen, deftly directing the potatoes to peel automatically and the carrots to line up and jump into the soup pot, beginning preparations for lunch.
"Creak."
The door was suddenly opened.
Everyone turned around and found that it was a black cat that had entered.
"It's you, Guantou." Morris walked over, bent down, and picked up his pet ghost cat.
The other person was probably tired of being on the ship.
The Guantou purred contentedly in his arms, nudging his chin with its cool head.
"Ah, it's a cat," Fred said. "There's a mouse in this house, and poor Scabbers is going to be eaten."
Coincidentally, a ginger-colored mouse with some loose fur was shakily climbing down the stair railing; it was Ron's pet, Scabbers.
Perhaps they were drawn in by the sounds from the kitchen.
Upon seeing the Guantou, Scabbers immediately froze in fright, its paws slipped, and it fell straight off the stair railing, landing on the floor.
"That stupid rat," Fred sighed.
The Guantou nimbly leaped down from Morris's arms, walked to the mouse, lowered its head, and picked it up.