The Marauders - Order of the Phoenix Part Three

CXXI: A Master In The House

Kreacher had the nightmare again. It was so, so long ago - Kreacher had lost count of the years because the days all blended together and the years blurred in Kreacher's mind. He'd been left alone for so, so long - ever since Master Sirius had gone to prison. Nobody could come to visit Kreacher, Master alone had access to the house at Number 12 Grimmauld Place and so long as Master Sirius was alive, Kreacher was bound to the house and he went about his tedious chores, living out his long days, bored, with only the portrait of his Mistress to talk to. Or else himself. When he wasn't near to the portrait of his Mistress, Kreacher talked to himself in a low, muttering voice. He was always alone, so it was sometimes hard to tell what Kreacher said outloud and what Kreacher said to himself in his own head. And sometimes - sometimes it was hard to tell what Kreacher dreamed and what Kreacher actually did in his waking hours. The nightmare was always the hardest to tell.

"Kreacher is sorry, Kreacher is sorry, Kreacher will punish hisself for letting Master down," Kreacher sobbed, curled in a ball in his nest in the pantry, pressed way to the back in the bundle of clothes from Master Regulus's closet that he'd dragged downstairs and made his bed from. Once, they'd spelled of Master Regulus, but the scent had faded over the years. "Kreacher's sorry," he wailed quietly.

There was a sound then, one Kreacher hadn't heard in such a long time.

The front door was opening.

Kreacher's ears flattened and he crawled out from amongst the folds of clothing, wriggled out into the kitchen, eyes peering into the dark hallway.

A dark form was coming through the door - large and shaggy - and the door swung closed behind it and Kreacher lay as flat as he could to the floor, his eyes wide and glowing with fear.

Perhaps Kreacher would not need to punish himself after all, perhaps death itself - the Grim - had come for Kreacher. Perhaps Kreacher was facing the end already.

The shaggy black Grim shivered and shook and something like blurring happened as it stretched large and tall and the snout was drawn in and the hair disappeared into skin and then --

Kreacher couldn't believe his eyes.

Sirius Black stood in the foyer.

Kreacher drew back into the kitchen.

"FILTH! STAIN! SHAME! BLIGHT OF THE HOUSE OF BLACK! DISAPPOINTMENT OF MY LIFE!"

"Hello darling Mother," Master Sirius's voice echoed through the corridor, "Glad to see you haven't changed - just as charming as ever." His boots thumped down the hallway. Kreacher shied back further, ducking behind the doorway to the kitchen, pressing himself into the shadows. Let Master Sirius call on him before he showed himself - good house elves are never seen, he reminded himself for the first time in a long while. He trembled when Master stepped into the kitchen.

Sirius looked around the room - from the hearth to the bubbling pot on the stovetop to the perfectly set table, complete with freshly polished silver. He stepped up to the table and his fingers ran over the utensils, pausing at the tiniest oyster fork... and he shifted it slightly. Then his eyes rose up as he turned to his left, looking at the shadow where Kreacher hovered.

"Master Sirius is home at last," Kreacher muttered, voice low and croaky. "Kreacher has been waiting for Master all of these long years." He forced his creaking old back into a stiff bow, his arthritis sore, his eyes never lowering from Sirius. "How Master escaped from filthy prison, Kreacher does not know, it is a mystery how, since greater wizards and witches have gone to Azkaban and never returned... Yes, what trickery Master must have performed to deceive even the dementors at Azkaban..." This last bit Kreacher thought he was saying in his own head, but he had spoken it outloud and it caused Sirius to scowl.

"And what have you been doing all these years? Groveling about here, taking orders from the old hag's portrait, I suppose?"

Kreacher hissed. "Kreacher has waited for Master faithfully all these years." Then, under his breath, "And Master should watch his tongue as he speaks nasty of Kreacher's Mistress, blight on the Noble Name that he is..."

Sirius scowled and turned from the kitchen.

The door opened again, the portrait of Mistress shouting again, shrieking fitfully, insulting her son... Kreacher hoped that when he peeked into the hall it would be to find Master Sirius was gone and perhaps he would stay gone -- but the door was open and Master was leading a great huge beast through the front door, tethered by a rope leash, and Kreacher's eyes widened. "What is this? What is Master thinking? Kreacher sees the beast is filthy! What is Master thinking?"

"Relax, you crusty old thing, Beaky and I won't be staying long. We'll be on our way soon enough, I'm just awaiting my husband. Once Remus has a moment to think it over, he'll come after me and catch me up, and this is the most obvious place he would look to find me. When he does, we'll be out of your way, Kreacher, don't your worry your head about it. Mucking out the hippogriff shite will give you a fun new project besides polishing silver nobody's tarnished in a decade."

"Kreacher cannot stand the insolent attitude, Kreacher's Mistress would punish Master if only my poor Mistress was here to hear him!"

"Imagine if she saw the hippogriff shit in her precious library?" Sirius said, grinning as Kreacher's face flushed with anger.

"Ohhh no, no the beast must not go into the library!" Kreacher snapped his fingers, apparating to the door of the library, blocking it with outstretched bony arms. "Mistress would not have that beast defile her beautiful library!"

"Fine," Sirius said. "I'll take him upstairs then." And he pulled Buckbeak up a flight and to Kreacher's horror, deposited him in Regulus's old room. The elf shrieked and fought, kicked and even thought about biting Sirius, but Sirius simply commanded him to stop, and there was nothing to be done but watch as the hippogriff fluttered up to land on the bed.

"Make yourself comfy, Beaky," Sirius said, "The room is used to having piles of shit in it."

Sirius glared at Kreacher as he pushed his way out and went upstairs to the room that had held him prisoner for so many years, oblivious to the elf, who stood, crying with frustration.