What House Is Sirius Black Novels & Stories

I pushed the door open and stepped inside and the first thing I saw was him. Of course. Chance Black. Sitting at the far end of the bar, back straight, shoulders squared, one hand wrapped around a glass. He was dressed in black again. Always black. Sleeves rolled just high enough to show the edge of a tattoo, hair pushed back from his face, eyes sharp. I froze for half a second. Then I muttered under my breath. “Of course he’s everywhere I go.”

"Besides myself, there's Maria, who handles the cleaning; Thomas, the groundskeeper; and Carlos, who assists with maintenance and driving when needed. We're all live-in staff." Four people to maintain this place seemed impossibly few to Lyra, but she kept her thoughts to herself. "And this," Mrs. Hargrave said, opening the last door on their tour, "is Mr. Blackwood's private suite. He asked that you be shown it, though, of course, it remains his personal space." Lyra stepped into a room that felt markedly different from the rest of the house. Dark woods, rich leathers, and deep blues created a space that was masculine and, surprisingly, lived-in.

Upon arriving at the Blackwood main house, it felt deserted. Not empty—but eerily quiet, in an overly orderly way. The main building stretched out, flanked by north and south wings separated by a stone garden and a long glass corridor. Not to mention the other buildings, also grandly constructed—residences of Mr. Arthur's children, grandchildren, and in-laws. "The north wing," said Damian, pointing to the shadier building. I immediately followed Damian as he headed toward the north building of the Blackwood estate. Uncle Jasper and Aunt Amira lived there. So did Lily.

“What chaos.” I stared at her bitterly. “You knew.” Her brows lifted innocently. “Knew what, dear?” “This.” I gestured toward the distorted hallway. “This house. These whispers. The doors.” Serena laughed softly under her breath. Ma Felicia stepped forward slowly. “Blackwood has always been sensitive to disobedience.” The words made my blood run cold. Sensitive to disobedience. Like the estate itself answered to the curse. “To what exactly?” I asked sharply. Her eyes gleamed strangely. “To blood.”

I took the drink, let out a dramatic sigh, and stared at the bubbles like they had answers. If it weren't for him, I'd probably be lounging on my apartment couch, single, rich, and sipping overpriced cocktails—blissfully unaware of any werewolf drama. But here I was, heading into a house full of power plays and polite threats. I took a long sip, already bracing myself. So this is love, huh? -- Half an hour later, we pulled up to the Black family's place. The house itself was mostly white, sleek and modern, but softened by sculptures, ivy-covered archways, and a garden that looked like it had been designed by someone who'd grown up reading fairy tales. It gave off serious Alice in Wonderland

“Who are you guys? Why are you stopping us?” Little Cupcake jolted in fright when she saw the bodyguards who were fully dressed in black. She dragged Sirius with her as she took a few steps back and said softly, “They must be bad people. I think we’ve been targeted.” She was slightly anxious. The bodyguards standing opposite them were sent over by the butler of the Night household. The butler came to fetch Sirius home from school today as usual. However, Sirius was nowhere to be seen. He found him here after looking for him for some time.

My mind is filled with confusion and anxious thoughts right now but I still managed to activate again my navigating spell, Black Labyrinth, to know what’s happening inside the tower. I examined the tower in my 3 dimensional map. A red dot in the first floor is currently pulsating, emitting too much dark energy. The demon in that floor seemed heated and excited for a fight. I moved my gaze and looked on the highest floor of the tower. There were too many blue dots in it and their glows were gradually fading. They looked like twinkling stars in a night sky.

All the windows in the manor shattered, and her voice was heard by the Headmaster, who at that time was hiding in one of the chambers. He is regrouping with his hunters as they come up with a plan to enter the digital room. “Is that an old blood’s roar?” he says as he clenches his fist in rage. Dr. Blackwood nodded. “I think so.” She replied in shock. He gritted his teeth but soon smiled when he realized he had the best weapon to kill it. He grinned eerily as he stared at the vial of concentrated vervain he had taken from Mauritius. He scoffed, “Lead the attack in the digital room while I take care of the old blood.” He ordered as he stared intensely at Dr. Blackwood.

Mr. Black’s footsteps echoed through the dim hallway as he made his way to the lower levels of the building. It was a place reserved for special cases, the types of people he couldn’t trust within the walls of a regular cell. And tonight, Uncle Nick had earned himself a spot here, his smug expression seared into Mr. Black’s memory as he was dragged out of the SUV.

I wouldn't deny that I was taken aback for a minute. Their height appeared to be the only similarity they had. The one in the middle was African American, the one at the left had a full head of blonde hair, while the one at the right had dark black hair, and he wore glasses, maybe trying to be James Bond. The mafia's James Bond. "The Dark lord instructed us to escort you to your dressing room, where you are meant to pack your bags," said the Mafia James Bond, his voice deep, as expected from his height. It wouldn't make sense if a man as tall as him would sound like SpongeBob freaking SquarePants.