'Later, Harry, 'said Dumbledore.' Sit down. '
Harry sat down in the other armchair, trying not to look at the Dursleys, who seemed too frightened to speak.
'I thought you were going to let me have a drink. '
Dumbledore said to Uncle Vernon. 'Now, that expectation seems ludicrously optimistic.'
He waved the wand for the third time, and a dirty bottle and five glasses appeared in the air.
The bottle turned on its side and filled each glass with a honey-yellow liquid. Then the glasses floated to each of the people in the room.
'Mrs. Rosmerta's finest oak-ripened mead. '
Dumbledore raised his glass to Harry. Harry grabbed his own glass and took a sip.
He had never tasted it before, but he liked it very much. The Dursleys looked at each other in panic and then tried to avoid the glasses.
It was not easy, for the glasses kept knocking against their heads to remind them.
Harry could not help wondering if Dumbledore was playing a trick on them.
'Well, Harry, 'said Dumbledore, turning to him,' now we have a problem, and I hope you can help us solve it.
When I say we, I mean the Phoenix Society. But first, I have to tell you that Sirius' will was found a week ago, and he left everything he had to you. '
Uncle Vernon on the sofa turned his head, but Harry did not look at him and could not think of anything to say. He just said, 'Is that so?'
'It's pretty simple, basically, 'continued Dumbledore.' You have a lot of gold in your Gringotts account, and you have inherited all of Sirius' personal belongings.
There is something wrong with the inheritance … '
'His godfather is dead? '
Dumbledore and Harry both turned to look at Mr Dursley.
The glass of mead was now knocking against Vernon's head, and he was trying desperately to drive it away.
'He's dead? His godfather? '
'Yes. '
Dumbledore did not ask why Harry had not told the Dursleys about it.
"Now the question is …"
He continued to speak to Harry as if he had not been interrupted. "Sirius has also left you 12 Grimmauld Square."
"You left him a house?"
Uncle Vernon said greedily, his little eyes narrowing, but no one paid him any attention.
"You can keep it as a headquarters."
Harry said, "I don't care. You can use it. I don't really need it."
Harry never wanted to step into 12 Grimmauld Square again if he could.
He felt that he would never forget that Sirius used to wander alone in those dark and moldy rooms, imprisoned in a place that he longed to leave day and night.
"That's too generous."
Dumbledore said, "However, we temporarily withdrew from that house."
"Why?"
"That's right."
Dumbledore ignored Uncle Vernon's muttering and continued, "According to the tradition of the Black family, the house is passed down from generation to generation and must be passed on to the next male with the surname Black.
Sirius was the last descendant of his family because his younger brother, Regulus, died before him, and neither of them had children.
Although his will clearly states that the house is to be left to you, there may have been some magic or spell cast on the place to ensure that no one who is not of pure blood occupies it. "
A picture flashed in Harry's mind. It was the portrait of Sirius's mother screaming and cursing in the hall of 12 Grimmauld Square.
"That must be it."
"Yes," said Dumbledore. "If there is such a spell, then the ownership of the house is likely to belong to the oldest surviving member of the Black family, Béla Trix Lestrange, Sirius's cousin."
Before Harry realized what he was doing, he jumped up, and the binoculars and sneakers on his legs rolled to the ground.
The murderer of Sirius, inheriting his house?
"No!"
"Yes, we certainly don't want her to get it."
"It's rather complicated," said Dumbledore calmly. "The house is no longer owned by Sirius, and we don't know if some of the spells we cast on it, such as making it impossible to draw on a map, still work.
Béla Trix could appear at the door at any moment, so we have to move out until the situation is clear. "
"But how can you find out if I can own it?"
"Fortunately," said Dumbledore, "there's a simple test."
He put the empty glass on the little table beside the chair, and before he could do anything else, Uncle Vernon shouted, "Can you get these damned things away from us?"
Harry looked round and saw that all three Dursleys had their arms over their heads because their glasses were bouncing up and down against their skulls, spilling wine all over the place.
"Oh, I'm sorry."
Dumbledore said politely, raising his wand again, and the three glasses disappeared.
"But you know, it's gentlemanly to drink them."
Vernon seemed to be tempted to say something offensive in reply, but he just shrank back into the sofa cushions with Penny and Dudley and remained silent, his little pig-like eyes fixed on Dumbledore's wand.
"You see," said Dumbledore, turning to Harry and continuing as if Uncle Vernon had not spoken, "if you do inherit the house, you'll also inherit —"
He waved his wand for the fifth time, and with a loud crack, a house elf appeared. He had a bulging nose, a pair of large bat-like ears, and a pair of copper-bell-like, bloodshot eyes.
He squatted on the Dursleys' plush carpet in his dirty rags.
Aunt Penny let out a hair-raising shriek. Dudley hurriedly lifted his pink bare feet from the floor until they were almost above his head. It was as if he was afraid that the monster would climb up his pajamas.
"What the hell is that?" bellowed Uncle Vernon.
"Kreacher," said Dumbledore, picking up where he left off.
"Kreacher don't want it, Kreacher don't want it, Kreacher don't want it!"
Croaked the house elf, his voice almost as high as Uncle Vernon's, stamping his long, wrinkled feet and tugging at his big ears. "Kreacher belongs to the Blakes, Kreacher wants a new mistress, Kreacher don't want it, Potter don't want it —"
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