Chapitre 427: 0426 Inside The Tent
If it weren't for Professor Watson's classroom - once used for facing Inferi and hinkypunks, but now serving as a training room for physical education - Harry would have been amazed by the spaciousness inside Sirius's father's tent.
From the outside, the tent appeared only half the size of Hagrid's hut, but inside, it was dozens of times larger. The wizard who created this tent seemed to have transplanted an entire seaside villa into it. Harry's aunt and uncle had always desperately wanted to buy a holiday home in Mallorca, they purchased numerous magazines and brochures about it. The luxurious mansions Harry had seen in those pages were quite similar to the four-story white building before him.
"Wow-" The collective gasp of amazement echoed through the magically expanded space.
The unpleasant events outside had dampened their spirits, but upon seeing the magnificent villa and the enormous, crystal-clear swimming pool stretching out before it, even the most reserved members of their party couldn't help but be impressed. The less restrained Weasley children, in particular, found it impossible to contain their wonder and excitement.
Ron, his freckled face blazing with curiosity, broke away from the group. He rushed to the poolside, crouched down at the pool's edge, and dipped his fingers into the sparkling water. The liquid's perfect temperature and silky texture seemed to confirm its reality. Ron turned to Sirius, his expression a mixture of bewilderment and delight.
"It's a real pool," he exclaimed, his voice filled with awe. "Blimey, I thought it was just some sort of magical illusion!"
Mr. Weasley, his balding head reflecting the soft light, was also awed by the sight before him. His gaze wandered from the large pool to the gently swaying palm trees that lined its edges, then up to the softly glowing orb in the sky that mimicked a perfect summer sun.
"It's truly eye-opening, Sirius-" he said, his voice filled with wonder and a hint of professional curiosity. "This is far more impressive than the tent I borrowed from Perkins. The charms work must be incredibly complex."
Harry, still grappling with the bizarre situation he found himself in, didn't bother wondering about the identity of this Perkins person Mr. Weasley had mentioned. The impact of this luxurious magical tent, as impressive as it was, paled in comparison to the shock of learning that Sirius and the Malfoys were relatives.
The weight of this revelation, coupled with the physical discomfort of his magically enlarged head, was beginning to take its toll. After holding up his comically oversized head for what felt like an eternity, Harry's neck was finally starting to protest with a dull, persistent ache. He raised a hand to his swollen cheek and frowned as he looked pleadingly at Sirius.
Sirius, seeming to finally notice Harry's predicament, turned to address Remus. His voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of concern as he spoke. "Remus, see if you can help restore Harry's head to its normal size. He ate a piece of enchanted bubblegum earlier, and well..." He gestured vaguely towards Harry's bulbous head.
"I know the kind of bubblegum you're talking about, Not long before you arrived, when I went to fetch water, I saw a little boy with a similar problem. His head was about ten times larger than yours is now, Harry-"
Remus said, eyeing Harry's head with interest.
"But that boy returned to normal almost immediately after swallowing the other half of the gum. I guess you must have inadvertently swallowed both the prank half and the antidote at once, right, Harry?"
Harry could only manage a soft, embarrassed mumble in response, his enlarged lips were making speech difficult. Then, under Remus's expertly cast restoration spell, a tingling sensation spread across Harry's scalp. His head began to deflate with a comical whooshing sound, like air escaping from a balloon, gradually returning to its normal proportions.
Remus walked into the villa to inform Kreacher to serve food to everyone. As the others dispersed to explore this magical tent, Harry seized the opportunity to speak privately with Sirius. Mr. Weasley, sensing the father and son needed to talk, had given a knowing look to the remorseful Ginny before they went inside the villa to explore. By the pool's edge, Ron, Fred, and George were already enthusiastically stripping off their shirts, ready to dive in and show off their swimming skills in the large pool.
"What's really going on, Sirius?" Harry asked, his voice low and tinged with confusion. "You and Draco's mother? How are you related?"
Sirius let out a dry, humorless laugh, "Heh, just as Ron said earlier, Harry-" he began, running a hand through his dark hair. "In the wizarding world, there are some stubborn individuals who refuse to abandon outdated traditions. They're the pure-blood families, obsessed with maintaining what they see as the purity of their magical lineage. They consider it shameful to marry half-bloods or Muggle-borns."
He paused, his gaze distant, as if looking back through the years at a past he'd rather forget. "But this leaves them with few options. To ensure their families don't die out, these pure-blood wizarding families end up intermarrying among themselves. So-" Sirius spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness towards Harry.
Harry wasn't entirely unaware of what Sirius was talking about. He had encountered enough prejudice and whispers of "blood status" during his time at Hogwarts to have a general understanding of the issue. He also knew that these pure-blood families generally had all their members sorted into the same house. It was just like how all the Weasleys were in Gryffindor, while the Malfoys' ancestors were mostly from Slytherin.
Sirius had rarely spoken about his own parents in the past, and Harry had assumed that the Black family, like the Weasleys, was an 'anomaly' among pure-blood wizard families. But from what Draco's mother had said outside earlier, it seemed that Sirius was the real anomaly within his own family.
After a moment of heavy silence, broken only by the distant laughter of the Weasley children splashing in the pool, Harry suddenly frowned as a particular detail from the earlier confrontation resurfaced in his mind. "Draco's mom mentioned someone named Walburga earlier," he said, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Who is she exactly?"
A shadow darker than the tent's magical twilight flashed across Sirius's grey eyes. He took a deep breath and nodded, confirming Harry's unspoken suspicion. "You guessed right, Harry. Walburga Black is - was - my mother. And yes, Narcissa Malfoy is correct in her assessment. My dear old mum didn't like me much, to put it mildly."
Sirius's face twisted into a bitter smile, "In fact, to prevent me from inheriting the family fortune after I ran away, she made a will just before her death. She divided the wealth the family had accumulated over centuries between my two cousins. One of them, is Narcissa Malfoy. And the other, well-" He paused, a look of utter disgust crossing his face. "I really don't like to mention that woman - Bellatrix Lestrange."
Harry's mind raced, trying to connect the dots. Cousins. The word triggered a memory, and he suddenly recalled the night of his fourteenth birthday dinner. Sirius and Remus had talked to him about the dream he'd had. Sirius had initially suspected that the woman in Harry's dream was his cousin, but then immediately mentioned Narcissa Malfoy. So, it must have been this Bellatrix Lestrange?
"That's right, it's her," Sirius confirmed, his voice dripping with disgust. "She was imprisoned in Azkaban with me. Of course, unlike me, she absolutely deserved to be locked up there for the things she'd done. Merlin knows, she reveled in her crimes."
"What did she do?" Harry asked eagerly, realizing for the first time how little he knew about Sirius's background.
Sirius let out a harsh, humorless laugh. "What did she do?" he repeated, his voice thick with loathing. "She was Voldemort's most faithful lapdog, his most fanatical supporter. Believe me, Harry, you won't find anyone more devoted to Voldemort's cause than Bellatrix Lestrange. Even in Azkaban, under the relentless torment of the Dementors, I heard her cackling many times over the years. She would rave about how everyone would pay when Voldemort returned, how the 'mudbloods' and blood traitors would suffer."
"But-" Harry began, still confused and wanting to ask more questions. However, Sirius was clearly losing patience with the subject. He waved his hand irritably, cutting off Harry's half-formed question.
"Don't you understand yet, Harry?" Sirius asked, his voice rising with frustration. "Don't you see what kind of people my mother and my relatives are? The vast majority of them are direct followers of Voldemort. Those who didn't actively participate in his reign of terror still secretly contributed to it.
And my mother, hah, yes, she wasn't a Death Eater herself. But in my opinion, if she had been twenty years younger at the time, who knows what she might have done! Her portrait still hangs in our old family home, spewing hatred and bile at anyone who isn't a pure-blood. That's the kind of family I come from, Harry. That's the legacy I've been trying to escape my entire life."
Sirius's words made Harry's heart heavy. Only now did he truly understand that the injustice Sirius had endured wasn't just being misunderstood by the world for betraying Harry's parents; his own family had probably caused him even greater harm.
As Harry grappled with Sirius's words, Mr. Weasley emerged from the villa, likely coming to call them for dinner. The aromas of a hearty meal wafted from the open door, promising a brief breather from the heavy conversation.
At that moment, the delicate wind chimes hanging outside the tent entrance suddenly rang out and a cheerful voice accompanied the chime's soothing sound.
"Aho, is anyone home? I heard there was a bit of a kerfuffle here, and I had nothing better to do, so I thought I'd pop by and check it out!"
"Oh!" Mr. Weasley's demeanor immediately shifted from concern to excitement. His face lit up with recognition at the sound of the visitor's voice. Quickly circling the expansive pool, he passed Sirius and Harry, heading towards the tent entrance, taking it upon himself to greet the visitor on Sirius's behalf.
"The man of the hour, Ludo!" Mr. Weasley called out cheerfully as he approached the entrance.
"Hey, Arthur, old chap!" The voice outside seemed momentarily taken aback by Mr. Weasley's unexpected presence, but quickly recovered its jovial tone. Before anyone could react, Ludo Bagman barged right into the tent, his large frame filling the entrance before he enthusiastically grasped Mr. Weasley's hand, pumping it up and down in a high-spirited handshake.
Bagman's eyes widened as he took in the luxurious surroundings, his gaze sweeping from the large swimming pool to the elegant villa.
"Is this your tent, Arthur?" he asked, clearly impressed. "It's fantastic! I bet this tent could sell for at least six thousand Galleons on the market!"
As Mr. Weasley engaged in energetic conversation with the newcomer, Harry leaned closer to Ron, who had climbed out of the pool along with Fred and George. "Who is he exactly?" Harry whispered; his curiosity piqued by the stranger's flamboyant entrance.
Ron, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes, replied in a low voice, "That's Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports at the Ministry. He used to be a professional Quidditch player, you know. Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps and the English national team. Dad gets along well with him. He's the one who helped us get our Quidditch World Cup tickets."
Harry nodded in understanding, recalling that Mr. Weasley had indeed mentioned this connection before. He studied the newcomer with interest, taking in every detail of the most eye-catching person he had ever seen in the wizarding world - and given some of the eccentrics he'd encountered at Hogwarts, that was saying something.
Ludo Bagman was dressed in a Quidditch robe that seemed to scream for attention. The fabric was adorned with broad horizontal stripes in vivid yellow and black, resembling a giant bumblebee. Splashed across his chest, like an enormous ink blot was the image of a wasp-- the mascot of his former team. The robe, clearly designed for a man in peak physical condition, now tried its best to contain Bagman's current form.
It was quite obvious that Ludo Bagman had once been a man of impressive physical fitness. However, the passage of time and perhaps a fondness for good food and drink had taken their toll. His robes were stretched tightly across a large belly that protruded prominently, straining the fabric almost to its breaking point. Harry found it difficult to imagine that this man, with his potbelly and ruddy cheeks, had once been nimble and agile enough to play as a Beater for England's national Quidditch team.
Despite his physical transformation, Bagman's eyes still sparkled with the energy and enthusiasm of a much younger man.
"Ludo received a report about a conflict here involving wands, and he's come to investigate," Mr. Weasley explained hurriedly as he led the boisterous man over to where Sirius and Harry stood. "However, I've already explained the misunderstanding to him," he added quickly, attempting to preempt any awkward questions.
Mr. Weasley then turned to Bagman, gesturing towards Sirius with a sweep of his arm. "Actually, Ludo, this tent belongs to Sirius. I'm sure you've heard of him?"
Bagman's eyes widened even further, if that was possible, as they fixed on Sirius. Recognition lit up on his face, quickly followed by an almost childlike excitement. "Ah, of course, a household name!"
"Sirius Black! By Merlin's beard, it's an honor to meet you in person!" Bagman exclaimed, pumping Sirius's hand enthusiastically. "I was in Paris when I read about your story in the papers. Let me tell you, you're a real hero, Sirius!"
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État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
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