Serena Black || 𝑨𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒂

Dumbledore's mistake?

"Hey Kreacher," Serena said in a loud voice to draw the house elf's attention to her and thus possibly prevent him from saying such things.

He stopped rooted to the spot, stopped muttering and made a barely convincing sound of surprise. "After all, Kreacher didn't even see Miss and the young gentleman."

He bowed to Serena and George, who was standing right next to her. Face still turned to the carpet, he added audibly. "Much like Master Regulus the Miss, yet she stands there with the brat of blood traitor that he is."

"I beg your pardon?" echoed Fred cuttingly. "I didn't catch that last part."

"Kreacher didn't say anything," the elf replied with a second bow, now directed at the second redhead, adding half aloud but clearly, "And there's his twin brother, perverse little beasts all of them."

Serena rolled her eyes, not knowing whether to laugh or be more alarmed at the house elf's hatred. The latter straightened up again, eyed her hostilely and continued muttering, apparently convinced that no one could hear him, "And there's the rest of the brats too, oh if my mistress knew!"

"Kreacher," Hermione now began gently, getting up from her chair to walk towards Kreacher, which probably wasn't such a good idea. "Look, no one here means you any harm."

Kreacher's pale eyes widened and his muttering became even faster and more excited as he took a few steps back from Hermione. "There's the mudblood, standing there snotty and talking to Kreacher as if she were a friend, if Kreacher's mistress saw him in such company!" he groaned with a frightened and suffering expression.

"Stop calling her a mudblood!" hissed Serena, whereupon the elf bowed to her again. But she was sure that he would use that word again at the next opportunity.

"It's alright," Hermione whispered, sitting back down in her chair. "He doesn't know what he's talking about. He's not in his right mind."

"Don't lie to yourself, Hermione," Ron remarked, eyeing Kreacher with the utmost disgust. "He knows exactly what he's talking about."

"What do you want, anyway?" then George asked the house elf. Kreacher's huge twitched over to him and said evasively, "Kreacher is cleaning."

"Would you believe it," a voice sounded at the door.

At the sight of his current master, Kreacher made an exaggeratedly deep bow, so that it already looked ridiculous and his pointed nose was already touching the old carpet.

"Stand tall." From the doorway, Sirius glared at the house elf. "What are you up to now?"

"Kreacher is cleaning," the house-elf repeated. "Kreacher lives solely to serve House Black."

"And it gets dirtier every day," he replied merely coldly. "Every time you pretend to clean, you smuggle something into your room so we can't throw it away. Now go."

Kreacher didn't seem to dare refuse a direct order, but the look he gave his master as he shuffled past him was full of the deepest contempt. "Come back from Azkaban and order Kreacher around.... Oh what would my poor mistress say."

"Sirius, he's not in his right mind!" pleaded Hermione, looking after the house elf with pity. "I don't think he realised we could hear him."