Infinite Magic (Male Reader x Harry Potter)

The Black Household

As we passed the row of house-elf heads on the wall we saw Uncle Remus, Mrs Weasley, and Tonks at the front door, magically sealing its many locks and bolts behind those who had just left.

Molly: We're eating down in the kitchen.  Harry, dear, if you'll just tiptoe across the hall, it's through this door here-

CRASH.

Molly: Tonks!

Tonks: I'm sorry!  It's that stupid umbrella stand, that's the second time I've tripped over-

But the rest of her words were drowned by a horrible, earsplitting, bloodcurdling screech.  The moth-eaten velvet curtains we had passed on the way in had flown apart, but there was no door behind them.  It was a life size portrait, but the most realistic, and the most unpleasant, I had ever seen in my life.  The old woman was drooling, her eyes were rolling, the yellowing skin of her face stretched taut as she screamed, and all along the hall behind them, the other portraits awoke and began to yell too, so that Harry actually screwed up his eyes at the noise and clapped his hands over his ears.  Ava buried her face in my chest, trying to block out the sound.  Remus and Mrs Weasley darted forward and tried to tug the curtains shut over the old woman, but they would not close and she screeched louder than ever, brandishing clawed hands as though trying to tear at their faces.

Walburga: Filth!  Scum!  By-products of dirt and vileness!  Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place!  How dare you befoul the house of my fathers-

Tonks apologized over and over again, at the same time dragging the huge, heavy troll's leg back off the floor.  Mrs Weasley abandoned the attempt to close the curtains and hurried up and down the hall, Stunning all the other portraits with her wand.  Then a man with long black hair came charging out of a door facing Harry.

Sirius: Shut up, you horrible old hag, shut UP!

He seized the curtain Mrs Weasley had abandoned.  The old woman's face blanched.

Walburga: Yoooou!  Blood traitor, abomination, shame of my flesh!

Sirius: I said shut... UP!

With a stupendous effort he and Uncle Remus managed to force the curtains closed again. The old woman's screeches died and an echoing silence fell.  Panting slightly and sweeping his long dark hair out of his eyes, Sirius, turned to face us.

Sirius: Hello, Harry.  I see you've met my mother.

Harry: Your-

Sirius: My dear old mum, yeah.  We've been trying to get her down for a month but we think she put a Permanent Sticking Charm on the back of the canvas.  Let's get downstairs, quick, before they all wake up again.

YN: Can't we just burn her?

Sirius chuckled.

Harry: But what's a portrait of your mother doing here?

Sirius: Hasn't anyone told you?  This was my parents' house.  But I'm the last Black left, so it's mine now.  I offered it to Dumbledore for headquarters, about the only useful thing I've been able to do.

We followed Sirius to the bottom of the stairs and through a door leading into the basement kitchen.  It was scarcely less gloomy than the hall above, a cavernous room with rough stone walls.  Most of the light was coming from a large fire at the far end of the room.  A haze of pipe smoke hung in the air like battle fumes, through which loomed the menacing shapes of heavy iron pots and pans hanging from the dark ceiling.  Many chairs had been crammed into the room for the meeting and a long wooden table stood in the middle of the room, littered with rolls of parchment, goblets, empty wine bottles, and a heap of what appeared to be rags.  Mr Weasley and his eldest son, Bill, were talking quietly with their heads together at the end of the table.  Mrs Weasley cleared her throat.  Her husband, a thin, balding, red-haired man, who wore horn-rimmed glasses, looked around and jumped to his feet, hurrying over to shake Harry's hand.