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Chapter 93: The Black family

A harsh ringing sound pierced the surrounding silence instantly.

Suddenly, terrifying cries came from inside the door. Though indistinct through the door, it was clear that the cries were mixed with a lot of abusive and cursed words.

Hearing this, Regulus seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

"It sounds like my mother's voice." He glanced at Dracula and awkwardly explained, "Since I don't have my wand now and have lost my magic, I had to rely on my family to open the door."

Dracula nodded and stood with Regulus at the door, waiting.

However, no one came to open the door.

The shouting from inside grew louder, as if many voices were overlapping, creating a cacophony of unpleasant, jarring words.

Regulus's face grew paler, more so than before.

Dracula noticed this and realized that the situation was not as Regulus had anticipated. He raised his hand and snapped his fingers.

The door opened quietly—

Revealing to the two a nearly pitch-black foyer. A damp, dusty smell wafted out, mingled with a sweet, rotting odor.

The place felt like an abandoned house that had been empty for a long time.

Regulus stepped aside. Even in the darkness, he quickly found the gas lamp switch due to his long-standing habit.

With a rustling sound, a row of old-fashioned gas lamps on the wall lit up, casting a flickering, unreal light over the long, eerie foyer, illuminating the peeling wallpaper and frayed carpet.

A spiderweb-like chandelier overhead flickered with faint light. The branches of the chandelier and a nearby swaying candlestick on a table were designed to resemble large snakes, seemingly showcasing the Blaick family's heritage.

On the adjacent wall, some portraits, darkened with age, hung crookedly. At this moment, the portraits all came to life, and the noisy shouting was coming from their mouths...

The entire house was empty!

"Has my troublesome son finally come back?"

A huge portrait hung beside a moldy, bug-eaten curtain, depicting an old lady with a black pointed hat, who was now angrily shouting.

She was also the one who woke up the other portraits, making them join in the shouting.

"That pure-blooded disgrace, filthy traitor, family disgrace, has finally deigned to come home?" the old lady shouted. "I would rather he had died in Azkaban!"

After seeing this portrait of the old lady, Regulus didn't even hear what she said clearly. His emotions got the better of him, and he trembled as he walked to the portrait.

The old lady's previously furious voice suddenly quieted down.

She looked at Regulus, who was walking step by step from the door, with an incredulous expression.

"Is it really you... Regulus... my dear son?" Her previously fierce emotions seemed to be instantly smoothed out, transforming from a cursing old lady into a gentle mother.

"It's me." Regulus cried uncontrollably. "I've returned, mother!"

The other portraits around them gradually quieted down, staring blankly at the scene.

None of the portraits noticed that Dracula had entered from the corridor's corner, curiously examining the wall of portraits. He saw that the old lady's portrait was labeled "Walburga Black."

"You... didn't die, Regulus?" Lady Walburga Black said. "Kreacher said you died in the Dark Lord's cave. You have no idea how heartbroken I was!"

"Do you know? Your father Orion passed away not long after you left. And your rebellious, shameful brother has never come back! It's just as well; he doesn't deserve to return to the Blaick family's ancestral home!"

She laughed maniacally, but then her expression turned somber.

"Then I was left alone in this house... Regulus, after all these years, why didn't you ever come back to see me?"

Regulus looked sadly at his mother's gaze, hesitated for a long time, and finally spoke.

"I am already dead, mother. I was turned into a corpse by the Dark Lord's magic, and it was only yesterday that Mr. Dracula restored my memory."

"Oh! Merlin's beard!" Walburga covered her mouth. "You... you mean..."

"I am no longer a wizard, mother." Regulus said. "I am now just a lowly corpse. I actually don't deserve to return to this home..."

"You have become a corpse?!" An older Blaick family portrait suddenly spoke up. "You have become a disgrace to the Blaick family! Such a filthy species, a stain on the bloodline, will not be allowed into the Blaick family home!"

His words made Regulus's face look very grim, and his mood became extremely heavy as he turned to leave the sorrowful house.

At that moment, Walburga Black spoke up.

"Be quiet!" She shouted angrily at the stubborn old portrait. "This is my son! I don't care what he has become; he is still my son!"

Regulus's steps stopped, and his eyes brightened with tears.

He couldn't believe that his mother, who cared so much about blood purity and family honor, would say such words. She had acknowledged a son who had become a corpse!

"Regulus, stay at home." Walburga loudly urged Regulus. "This will always be your home, no matter what you have become. After you and your father left, I've been alone here for so many years. It has been enough time for me to come to terms with this!"

"Okay." Regulus turned around, tears filling his eyes again.

However, more of the Blaick family's elders stepped forward, criticizing Walburga for violating the family's ancestral teachings.

And Walburga, with her typical shouting demeanor, stood up to the old Blaick family members, verbally battling them and confusing them.

Dracula chuckled as he watched the scene and said to a portrait hiding in the corner and watching the commotion.

"Your family's portraits are quite lively, Headmaster Blaick."

"Ah... Actually, they're not always this uncouth, Count." Phineas Black, with sparse eyebrows and a goatee, forced a smile. "It's just that seeing young Regulus return has made them a bit emotional."

Phineas Black was quite embarrassed.

He had been dozing off in the headmaster's office when he suddenly sensed a disturbance in the Blaick ancestral home. Curious, he came to see what was happening. He never expected to witness a scene where two groups were cursing and greeting each other's families...

And these portraits seemed to have forgotten that they were all from the same family, and the greetings were directed at each other's family members...

What made Headmaster Black even more uncomfortable was encountering the powerful Count Dracula, a frequent visitor to the headmaster's office!

The family's dirty laundry was now on full display...

"Let them argue for now, Mr. Black." Dracula, having listened to the portraits argue for half an hour, approached the stunned Regulus and patted his shoulder. "We have other things to do. Don't forget about Voldemort's Horcruxes."

Regulus snapped back to reality and quickly left the noisy corridor, leading Dracula towards the staircase to the second floor.

Passing by the long, bug-eaten curtains on either side of the portraits and bypassing what looked like a large umbrella stand made from a giant's severed leg, they reached the dimly lit staircase.

Climbing up the dark stairs, on the wall beside the staircase, a row of wrinkled little heads was clustered together. Dracula glanced at the heads and furrowed his brow—

These were the heads of house-elves, all with the same distinctive large noses.

"These heads... are they the house-elves that once served your family?" Dracula's face darkened.

Regulus's expression froze.

"Yes, they were once house-elves who served the Blaick family for life and had their heads severed after death." He explained somewhat awkwardly. "This is a tradition passed down from the era of Great-Aunt Elladora. Most of the old ones who are arguing with my mother left these behind."

"Pah, house-elves devoted their lives to serving you wizards and ended up with such a fate." Dracula's tone was sarcastic. "It seems that the decline of pure-blood families in the wizarding world isn't without reason."

Dracula had always thought that the existence of house-elves was distorted.

This race clearly had significant intelligence and magical abilities but relied entirely on wizards, considering serving wizards as their life's worth.

Such a race deserved at least basic respect from wizards.

"We have been trying to change these customs, but time hasn't given us more opportunities." Regulus said softly. "In my mother's generation, she got along well with Kreacher and didn't support the practice of severing house-elves' heads."

"However, the heads left by the ancestors are permanently glued to the walls with Permanent Sticking Charms. We descendants can't remove them."

He looked at the row of neatly arranged house-elf heads in front of him and sighed deeply.

"Permanent Sticking Charm, is it?" Dracula examined the adjacent wall and coldly curled his lips.

The next moment, his fingernails elongated and sharpened into blades, and he swung his left hand sharply.

An invisible, sharp light blade sliced through the wall, cutting off the row of house-elf heads along with the outer layer of the entire wall.

"Reparo."

Dracula casually waved his hand, repairing the damaged wall.

"There, the heads of the house-elves are left here." He placed the long stone slab he had cut off on the stairs leading to the second floor