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Chapter 501, page 499: Black's Old House
Sirius fell silent.

It seems he's found the truth.

"The mysterious man, will he come back?"

Sirius asked in a hoarse voice.

Sheen nodded silently.

"what……"

Sirius chuckled softly. His weary eyes were covered by slivers of sunlight filtering through the heavy curtains, revealing deep dark circles that made him look somewhat eccentric.

“If you think this is the answer you want, I’d like to talk to you about Mr. Regulus Black.”

Sheen said.

"What do you want to know about him...?"

Sirius Black looked at the young wizard with a probing gaze, running his fingers through his messy, long hair.
"I don't know much because I hate all of them."

"everything."

Sheen thought for a moment and then said.

"Heh... If you don't mind the trouble, then come with me."

Sirius suddenly disappeared, leaving only a large black dog in front of him.

Sirius couldn't question the other party's motives; though absurd, upon careful consideration, they were perfectly reasonable.

Wizards like the mysterious figure always provoke resistance.

They had never seen any hope, that much was certain, even with Dumbledore around.

But now, they have someone like that in their ranks...

Regardless, Sirius believed it.

He's sometimes so easily trusting of someone, and he'll never change his mind.

12 Grimmauld Place.

A dilapidated door appeared out of nowhere between numbers 11 and 13, followed by filthy walls and gloomy windows, making it look as if an extra house had suddenly swelled up, squeezing out everything on either side.

There was a knock on the door, but it wasn't a wizard touching it; it was a black dog.

The black dog growled a deep, rough bark, then looked behind it.

Behind it, Sheen walked up the broken stone steps, looking at the newly conjured doorway.

The black paint on the door had peeled off, and it was covered with scratches from left to right.

The silver door knocker was shaped like a coiled snake, and there was no keyhole or mailbox on the door.

The black dog approached the door, and the door creaked open.

"Come in,"

A voice came from behind the door.

"But remember, when you're with me, it's best not to touch anything."

Sheen stepped across the threshold and into the almost completely dark foyer.

He smelled a damp, dusty odor, along with a sweet, rotten smell. The place felt like an abandoned, empty house.

He also heard a rustling sound, and then a row of old-fashioned gas lamps on the wall lit up, casting a shimmering, unreal light that illuminated the peeling wallpaper and worn carpet in the long, gloomy hallway.

A spiderweb-shaped chandelier flickered overhead, and portraits, blackened by the passage of time, hung crookedly on the wall.

Next to the chandelier, on a rickety table, the candlesticks were all made in the shape of large snakes.

"This is the old house of the Black family. The Regulus Black you mentioned is my brother."

Like my parents, he was fanatically obsessed with pure bloodlines; they believed that being a member of the Black family meant being born noble…

So my foolish younger brother, too weak-willed, actually believed them… that was him.”

Sirius Black held up one finger and pointed to the name at the very bottom of the family tree:
Regulus Black. His birth date was followed by his death date. "He was younger than me,"

Sirius said
“I keep being reminded that his son is much better than me.”

And so he died.

"What a stupid idiot... He actually joined the Death Eaters."

"You and your brother...you actually..."

Butler Pukchi chimed in at just the right moment.

“Pukchi, after seeing the state of this house, don’t you understand what kind of wizards my family members are?”

Little Sirius said sarcastically.

"Your parents were also those so-called...Death Eaters?"

"Butler Pukchi asked."

"No, no, but believe me, they believe Voldemort's ideas are correct. They all agree on maintaining the purity of the wizarding bloodline, getting rid of Muggle-born people, and letting pure-bloods hold power."

They were not unique; before Voldemort revealed his true colors, many believed that his views on certain matters were correct…

However, when they discovered that he would stop at nothing to gain power, they all became timid and backed down.

But I think my parents must have thought that Regulus joined in from the beginning and was a brave little hero.

But then he died.

Sirius's smile widened.

"He was killed by Voldemort. Or, more likely, he was killed at Voldemort's behest."

I suspect that Regulus isn't that important enough for Voldemort to personally kill him.

From what I learned after his death, he had become very deeply involved, and then he became afraid of what others wanted him to do, so he wanted to quit.

Sigh, you can't just hand in your resignation to Voldemort and call it a day. It's either a lifetime of service or certain death.

That's his story, isn't it? His story shows us the price of associating with evil; only cowards and idiots would do such a thing.

Sirius finally said.

"Perhaps our understanding of the story isn't entirely the same, Mr. Blake?"

Sheen’s voice was soft, but it made Sirius very uneasy.

Do you know what you're saying? Or do I need to lie to you?

Sirius frowned.

“I found Mr. Regulus Black in a special place.”

Sheen spoke slowly and took out a special wooden box.

It was very large and looked like a coffin.

Sirius hesitated before pushing open the coffin lid, and a gruesome corpse, gnawed on and soaked in water, appeared before him.

Even though Sirius was somewhat prepared, he felt as if he had been struck in the chest by a train, and he was speechless for a long time.

“I think Mr. Kreacher will tell us a completely different story.”

As soon as Sheen finished speaking, a house-elf appeared in the corridor as if by teleportation.

He wore a dirty, tattered cloth around his waist, like the loincloth men in tropical countries use to cover their bodies; otherwise, he was almost completely naked.

He looked very old, with skin that seemed to be several times more than his body actually needed. Although his head was bald like all house-elves, his two large, bat-like ears were covered with a clump of white hair.

His eyes were bloodshot, watery and grayish, and his fleshy nose was very large, almost like a pig's nose.

As soon as he appeared, he screamed:
"Young Master Blake!"

(End of this chapter)