Percy Jackson and the Locket of Salazar

2) And in Our Next Exhibit You Can See a Super Sick Burn, Dude!

"Won't, won't, won't —" Kreacher wore on, tugging at his ears, and I almost pitied him — almost.

"You would prefer him to pass into the ownership of Bellatrix Lestrange?" Dumbledore questioned Harry, and I grimaced. What an awful world where the best option is for you to inherit the foul Kreacher. "Bearing in mind that he has lived at the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix for the past year?"

"Won't, won't, won't —"

Harry stared at Dumbledore, face ashen at the thought of being in charge of and caring for the soul that had led to the death of Sirius Black.

"Give him an order," Dumbledore advised. "If has has passed into your ownership, he will have to obey. If not, then we shall have to think of some other means of keeping him from his rightful mistress."

"Won't, won't, won't, WON'T!"

"Kreacher, shut up!" Harry groaned.

"Yeah, I don't think saying 'won't' a thousand times is the deciding factor," I raised my eyebrows at him. "Maybe try the other magic word?"

I expected him to be spouting some choice magic words at me, but he remained silent. His buggy eyes widened impossibly, hands clutching at his throat. His mouth flapped and flapped, but beyond a few loud gulps, nothing emerged. At once he threw himself on the carpet, rolling around and slapping at it, but all he succeeded in was throwing a silent temper tantrum.

"Well, that simplifies things," Dumbledore said pleasantly. "It seems that Sirius knew what he was doing. You are the rightful owner of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, and of Kreacher."

"Do I — do I have to keep him with me?" Harry scowled, scooting his leg away from the thrashing house-elf.

"Not if you don't want to," Dumbledore sounded rather cheery with this most recent development. "If I might make a suggestion, you could send him to Hogwarts to work in the kitchen there. In that way, the other house-elves could keep an eye on him."

"Or he could stay here," I added helpfully.

"No!" Petunia shrieked, then quickly lowered it. "No! No, I won't have that filthy thing in my house!"

"Oh, sorry, Dudley, looks like you're getting kicked out," I sighed. "Bummer. I thought it was going to happen sooner."

"That is not what —!"

"You could go stay with Mrs. Figg, she's a dear, wouldn't hurt a fly, unless that fly happened to be rather large and was called 'Dudders'."

"We are not kicking —"

"Or you could live on the streets. I'm sure it wouldn't take long for animal control to take you to the shelter. Maybe they'll give you a much-needed bath."

"I'll send him to the kitchens," Harry said, a little over-eager to get the house-elf out of his sights. "We — Kreacher — I want you to go to Hogwarts and work in the kitchens there with the other house-elves."

Kreacher paused in his tantrum long enough to give Harry a nasty scowl, then vanished forever with a loud crack.

"Good," Dumbledore said. "There is also the matter of the Hippogriff, Buckbeak. Hagrid has been looking after him since Sirius died, but Buckbeak is yours now, so if you would prefer to make different arrangements —"

"No," Harry said immediately, "he can stay with Hagrid, I think Buckbeak would prefer that."

"Hagrid will be delighted," Dumbledore smiled. "He was thrilled to see Buckbeak again. Incidentally, we have decided, in the interests of Buckbeak's safety; to rechristen him Witherwings for the time being, though I doubt the Ministry would ever guess he is the Hippogriff they once sentenced to death."