Novel & Cerita What House Was Sirius Black In

“Have you ever left someone behind on a job?” His grin faded a hair. “Not when it mattered,” he said. Fair enough. The city lights slid by as we headed downtown, toward the meatpacking district and the kind of club that catered to men who thought the world owed them a stage. Black House. Lucien Black’s fortress. Niko’s chosen battleground. My next door to open. As we turned the final corner and the matte black facade of the building came into view—no sign, just a serpent‑like neon trace above an unmarked door—my phone buzzed again.

“Mia, does Xavier know you're calling me? How did you get my number?” Why was I surprised that he knew who it was? Black knew everything which was why he was the perfect person for the job. “He doesn't but I can't wait for him to know. I really need your help. I need you to get into his father's cameras and change the feed. It's really important, Black.” He went silent for a while and I couldn't even hear his breathing. “Fine. What cameras do you need?” “The ones in front of his room and the one inside. I need him to keep seeing that there's nothing wrong. There's a hidden room in his bedroom. Can you help me find it?”

Her plan was unfolding exactly as she had imagined. The moment Serena and Max entered the mansion, the smell of sizzling bacon, pancakes, and fresh coffee filled the air. The aroma mingled with the faint scent of polished wood and expensive furniture, creating an odd mixture of homeliness and luxury. The marble floor reflected the sunlight streaming through the large windows, and the walls were adorned with golden frames and fine paintings. In the dining area, Lord Blackwood was seated at the long mahogany table. He wore a crisp white shirt with a navy blue vest, his hair combed neatly, though his pale face betrayed a hint of exhaustion.

I looked down the hallway and through the other side, and there was actually no one in sight. My heart hammered as I approached the large double office doors with D. BLACKWOOD engraved on the metal plate. I forced my trembling hand to knock. No answer. Great. I knocked again. Still nothing. Screw it. I pushed the door open— —and froze in place. Damian Blackwood sat behind his massive black desk. Sharp suit. Cuffed sleeves. Jaw tight enough to crack a diamond. He didn’t look up at me. Not even a glance. I opened my mouth to speak but was cut off by his deep voice.

The air in the private conference room of the Blackwood estate smelled of beeswax and expensive stationery. It was a cold, windowless space tucked behind the main library, designed for conversations that the walls weren't supposed to hear. Bella sat in a velvet-backed chair that felt far too soft for the clinical discussion taking place across the table.

“But just know that I’m not taking no for an answer.” A small, nervous laugh slipped from my lips. “You don’t give up easily, do you?” “Never.” Moments later, we were standing outside the gates of the Blackwood mansion. Vivienne’s house was a little farther down the winding street. She mentioned it casually as we said our goodbyes before continuing on her way, while I headed inside. The quiet of the house hit me the second I stepped inside. But I knew the maids were somewhere around the house, going about their regular chores. As for Deborah and Ashley, they were probably upstairs.

I looked like a disaster. “And if I’m not the woman you think I am?” I asked. Lucian didn't look at my dress. He looked straight into my eyes, as if searching for the iron underneath. “You were never the problem, Evelyn,” he said quietly. “You were just the architect of the wrong house. It’s time you built something for yourself.” The car slowed to a halt in front of the private, high-security entrance at the base of Blackwood Tower. The monolith of glass and steel disappeared into the clouds, a fortress of cold, unyielding power.

At that time, we invited him to live with us at Landry Mansion, but he refused, insisting that he didn't want to inconvenience us, and instead rented a house of his own. "However, his building caught on fire after that, and he died in the fire." Charles could not help lamenting as he recalled this incident, "If Sirius hadn't died, he would've become a master alchemist by now, like Rosalyn." Rosalyn, too, could not help feeling a little saddened by this. "You're right. Sirius was a brilliant man; I would say his only weakness is his obsessive-compulsiveness…" Then, she turned to glance at Joshua and Luna. "By the way, you still haven't told us why you're looking for Sirius."

Rebecca couldn't help but cry out. Olivia was sobbing in the first place. When she heard what Lucas said, she was so scared that she forgot to breathe. Black House was a basement in the Thomas villa. This room was made with the highest level of soundproofing. There were only walls and floors in the entire room. There wasn't even a cushion in the room, not to mention a bed. There was not even a light in the entire room, only a fist—sized hole in the roof for ventilation.

She looked at them both, guilt sharpening her voice. “There’s another house,” she said. “One they call The Black Harrow.” Isolde’s stomach turned. Dorian stiffened. “I’ve heard the name. Whispered in the Archive years ago. I thought it was a metaphor.” Vivienne shook her head. “It’s real. And it’s where Seraph takes those who pass the final performance.” Dorian looked between them. “Then we burn it down,” he said. And his voice was steel. The Vienna safehouse wasn’t just hidden, it was sealed from memory.