Amisty was standing with Hermione, Ginny, Fred, and George in the middle of the olive green drawing room, sneezing behind the cloth over her mouth and nose from the ridiculous amount of dust coming from the carpet and dirty tapestries hanging from the wall. The curtains the doxies were hiding in were buzzing ominously, and she adjusted her grip on the spray bottle in her hand, waving as Ron and Harry walked in.
"Cover your faces and take a spray. It's Doxycide. I've never seen an infestation this bad -- what that house-elf's been doing for the last ten years -- " Mrs. Weasley told them, handing them tea towels.
"Kreacher's really old, he probably couldn't manage -- " Hermione started to protest.
"You'd be surprised what Kreacher can manage when he wants to, Hermione," Sirius replied from the doorway, waltzing in with a bloody bag of dead rats. Just a normal day at Grimmauld. "I've just been feeding Buckbeak. I keep him upstairs in my mother's bedroom. Anyway... this writing desk..."
He dropped the bag onto an armchair, kneeling down next to the shaking cabinet.
"Well, Molly, I'm pretty sure this is a boggart, but perhaps we ought to let Mad-Eye have a shifty at it before we let it out -- knowing my mother it could be something much worse," Sirius told her as he was peering through the keyhole.
"Right you are, Sirius," Mrs. Weasley nodded. Amisty winced.
The faux politeness in their tones was uncomfortably obvious.
Thankfully it was soon cut off by the loud clang of the doorbell, and then the loud shrieking of Sirius's mother.
"Stains of dishonor, filthy half-breeds, blood traitors, children of filth..."
"Auuurrghhh," Amisty groaned loudly and very overdramatically, glaring at Sirius in an only half-joking way.
Fred and George snickered.
"I keep telling them not to ring the doorbell!" He sighed, shaking his head as he rushed downstairs.
Soon after, the portrait stopped.
"Close the door, please, Harry," Mrs. Weasley flipped open a book, scanning through the pages.
Harry walked over very slowly and closed the door very slowly as well.
He wasn't very good at subtly and was quick to rejoin them.
"Right, you lot, you need to be careful, because doxies bite and their teeth are poisonous. I've got a bottle of antidote here, but I'd rather nobody need it," Mrs. Weasley told them, standing up and stepping in front of the curtain. "When I say the word, start spraying immediately. They'll come flying out at us, I expect, but it says on the sprays one good squirt will paralyze them. When they're immobilized, just throw them in the bucket."
She stepped forward, adjusting the towel over her nose and mouth, and raised her bottle, "Alright -- squirt!"
It was rather entertaining, watching the four-armed creatures come flying toward them and then falling straight to the ground with loud thunks.
"Fred, what are you doing? Spray that at once and throw it away!" Mrs. Weasley ordered.
Fred was holding a doxy in his hand, smiling as he sprayed it, "Right-o!"
Amisty rolled her eyes, spraying the two ones that were just about to get Hermione from behind.
"Sorry if that got on you!" She called, ducking and spraying another one.
It was almost like a sport.
"Nope! Thanks!" Hermione grinned, collecting the ones Amisty had sprayed down and throwing them into the bucket.
It wasn't until midday when they were done. The bucket was full of doxies, and a bowl next to it was full of their shiny black eggs that Crookshanks seemed to have a certain interest to.
"I think we'll tackle those after lunch," Mrs. Weasley pointed at one of the glass cabinets that Amisty had refused to look at because the assortment of objects inside was less than pleasant.
Rusty daggers, claws -- from what creature she didn't nor wanted to know -- what seemed to be a snakeskin, silver boxes covered in a strange language, and a glass bottle that seemed to be filled with crimson blood.
Less than appealing.
The doorbell rang again.
Amisty just slumped down into a chair and rolled her eyes.
Ginny giggled.
"Stay here. I'll bring up some sandwiches," Mrs. Weasley grabbed the bag of rats and headed toward the door as the stupid portrait started screeching its insults.
Again.
For the second time that morning.
The second Mrs. Weasley disappeared they all raced to the window to see who rang the doorbell.
"Mundungus! What's he brought all those cauldrons for?" Hermione wondered aloud, pressing her nose to the glass.
"Probably looking for a safe place to keep them. Isn't that what he was doing the night he was supposed to be tailing me? Picking up dodgy cauldrons?" Harry suggested.
"Yeah, you're right!" Fred nodded as the door opened and Mundungus disappeared inside the house. "Blimey, Mum won't like that."
Fred and George walked over to the door and pressed their ears to it now that Sirius's mother was done with her screech fest.
"Mundungus is talking to Sirius and Kingsley. Can't hear properly... d'you reckon we can risk the Extendable Ears?" Fred asked.
"Might be worth it. I could sneak upstairs and get a pair -- " George started, but then Mrs. Weasley was shouting and Amisty almost fell out of her chair.
"WE ARE NOT RUNNING A HIDEOUT FOR STOLEN GOODS!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked.
"I love hearing Mum shouting at someone else. It makes such a nice change," Fred laughed giddily.
" -- COMPLETELY IRRESPONSIBLE, AS IF WE HAVEN'T GOT ENOUGH TO WORRY ABOUT WITHOUT YOU DRAGGING STOLEN CAULDRONS INTO THE HOUSE -- "
George let out a sigh, shaking his head, "The idiots are letting her get into her stride. You've got to head her off early, otherwise she builds up a head of steam and goes on for hours. And she's been dying to have a go at Mundungus ever since he sneaked off when he was supposed to be following you, Harry -- aaand there goes Sirius's mum again -- "
He was right. Within the span of one morning.
The painting was screaming.
Yet again.
Third time.
Amisty took a deep breath, slamming her hands down on the chair, "OH MY MERLIN I HATE THAT DAMN PAINTING! I CAN DEAL WITH EXPLOSIONS! I CAN DEAL WITH APPARATING AROUND THE HOUSE, BUT BY CIRCE'S NAME IF THAT STUPID THING GOES OFF ONE MORE TIME -- "
"Alright, alright," Ron was laughing hysterically at her outburst, "Fred, close the door before she loses her mind entirely!"
"I forgot you could be loud when you wanted," George laughed, shaking his head.
"Don't even start," She growled, rubbing her temples and looking up at the sound of footsteps. "Oh, wonderful. You're here, too."
Kreacher had just entered the room.
She was having such a lovely day.
"...Smells like a drain and a criminal to boot, but she's no better, nasty old blood traitor with her brats messing up my Mistress's house, oh my poor Mistress, if she knew, if she knew the scum they've let in her house, what would she say to old Kreacher, oh the shame of it, Mudbloods and werewolves and traitors and thieves, poor old Kreacher, what can he do..."
"Hello, Kreacher," Fred announced very loudly, closing the door.
He stopped and started in fake surprise, not the best actor, "Kreacher did not see Young Master," He bowed, voice lowering in volume but still very audible as he muttered, "Nasty little brat of a blood traitor it is."
"Sorry?" George rolled his eyes. "Didn't catch that last bit?"
"Kreacher said nothing," He replied, bowing to George and muttering to the floor, "and there's its twin, unnatural little beasts they are."
Amisty scowled.
The elf straightened, glaring at them all very obviously and continuing on with his audible mutterings, "...and there's the Mudblood, standing there bold as brass, oh if my Mistress knew, oh how she'd cry... and the mutt, disgusting little creature, how horrible, my poor Mistress... and there's a new boy, Kreacher doesn't know his name, what is he doing here, Kreacher doesn't know..."
"This is Harry, Kreacher. Harry Potter," Hermione told him gently, disregarding to the insult he just threw at her.
The elf's eyes widened incredulously, "The Mudblood is talking to Kreacher as though she is my friend, if Kreacher's Mistress saw him in such company, oh what would she say -- "
"Don't call her a Mudblood!" Amisty snarled in unison with Ron and Ginny, who were all restraining themselves from hitting him over the head with the nearest fire poker.
"It doesn't matter, he's not in his right mind, he doesn't know what he's -- " Hermione insisted desperately.
"Don't kid yourself, Hermione, he knows exactly what he's saying," Fred cut her off, scowling.
"Is it true? Is it Harry Potter?" Kreacher muttered, staring at Harry. "Kreacher can see the scar, it must be true, that's the boy who stopped the Dark Lord, Kreacher wonders how he did it -- "
"Don't we all, Kreacher?" Fred asked dryly.
"What do you want anyway," George added, clearly eager to get the elf out of there.
"Kreacher is cleaning," The elf replied quietly.
"A likely story," Sirius drawled from the doorway, and Kreacher fell into a very low bow, his nose to the floor. "Stand up straight. Now, what are you up to?"
"Kreacher is cleaning," He repeated. "Kreacher lives to serve the noble house of Black -- "
" -- and it's getting blacker every day, it's filthy," Sirius finished the sentence for him.
Kreacher bowed again, "Master always liked his little joke, Master was a nasty ungrateful swine who broke his mother's heart -- "
"My mother didn't have a heart, Kreacher. She kept herself alive out of pure spite," Sirius growled.
"Whatever Master says," Kreacher bowed again, muttering to the floor again, "Master is not fit to wipe slime from his mother's boots, oh my poor Mistress, what would she say if she saw Kreacher serving him, how she hated him, what a disappointment he was -- "
"I asked you what you were up to. Every time you show up pretending to be cleaning, you sneak something off to your room so we can't throw it out," Sirius cut him off coldly.
"Kreacher would never move anything from its proper place in Master's house," He denied, "Mistress would never forgive Kreacher if the tapestry was thrown out, seven centuries it's been in the family, Kreacher must save it, Kreacher will not let Master and the blood traitors and the brats destroy it -- "
"I thought it might be that. She'll have put another Permanent Sticking Charm on the back of it, I don't doubt, but if I can get rid of it I certainly will. Now go away, Kreacher," Sirius threw a bitter look over at the tapestry hanging from the far wall, shooing the house-elf off.
Kreacher bowed again, giving Sirius a particularly resent glare as he shuffled out of the room, " -- comes back from Azkaban ordering Kreacher around, oh my poor Mistress, what would she say in she saw the house now, scum living in it, her treasures thrown out, she swore he was no son of hers and he's back, they say he's a murderer too -- "
"Keep muttering and I will be a murderer!" Sirius snarled, slamming the door shut behind Kreacher. "He's been alone too long, taking mad orders from my mother's portrait and talking to himself, but he was always a foul little -- "
"If you just set him free, maybe -- " Hermione suggested hopefully.
"We can't set him free, he knows too much about the Order," Sirius replied shortly. "And anyway, the shock would kill him. You suggest to him that he leaves this house, see how he takes it."
He walked over to the offending tapestry that Kreacher had been attempting to save, the rest of them following after.
It was faded and old and worn, holes in certain places and the edges frayed, but the golden thread that named the people and connected them was still clear as day. It was headed with:
The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black
"Toujours Pur"
Amisty scanned through it, catching sight of something she really didn't think she'd see.
Two names -- a blond woman and brunet man -- were connected by two faint golden lines. Caia Markel and Quincy River.
Her relatives.
Underneath were one burn mark and another name. Parker River.
It seemed whoever Parker was, he didn't marry.
"You're not on here!" Harry exclaimed to Sirius.
Sirius pointed out a small black hole, "I used to be there. My sweet old mother blasted me off after I ran away from home -- Kreacher's quite fond of muttering the story under his breath."
"You ran away from home?" Amisty asked curiously.
"When I was about sixteen. I'd had enough," Sirius replied.
"Where did you go?" Harry stared at him.
"Your dad's place. Your grandparents were really good about it; they sort of adopted me as a second son. Yeah, I camped out at your dad's during the school holidays, and then when I was seventeen I got a place of my own, my Uncle Alphard had left me a decent bit of gold -- he's been wiped off here too, that's probably why -- anyway, after that I looked after myself. I was always welcome at Mr. and Mrs. Potter's for Sunday lunch, though," Sirius replied, grinning.
"But... why did you...?" Harry's voice trailed off.
"Leave?" He offered, his grin turning bitter. "Because I hated the whole lot of them: my parents, with their pure-blood mania, convinced that to be a Black made you practically royal... my idiot brother, soft enough to believe them... that's him," He pointed to a face at the very bottom with the name Regulus Black. "He was younger than me and a much better son, as I was constantly reminded."
"But he died," Harry murmured.
"Yeah. Stupid idiot..." Sirius's eyes darkened slightly. He blinked, "he joined the Death Eaters."
"You're kidding!" Harry protested.
"Come on, Harry, haven't you seen enough of this house to tell what kind of wizards my family were?" Sirius shot back.
"Were -- were your parents Death Eaters as well?"
"No, no, but believe me, they thought Voldemort had the right idea, they were all for the purification of the Wizarding race, getting rid of Muggle-borns and having purebloods in charge," Sirius shook his head. "They weren't alone either, there were quite a few people, before Voldemort showed his true colors, who thought he had the right idea about things... They got cold feet when they saw what he was prepared to do to get power, though. But I bet my parents thought Regulus was a right little hero for joining up at first."
"Was he killed by an Auror?" Harry asked, hesitating.
"Oh no. No, he was murdered by Voldemort," Sirius scowled. "Or on Voldemort's orders, more likely, I doubt Regulus was ever important enough to be killed by Voldemort in person. From what I found out after he died, he got in so far, then panicked about what he was being asked to do and tried to back out. Well, you don't just hand in your resignation to Voldemort. It's a lifetime of service or death."
"Lunch," Mrs. Weasley called from the doorway.
Amisty hurried toward her, stomach grumbling. Her hunger overpowered her fear of Mrs. Weasley angry expression.
Thankfully it seemed to be aimed at Mundungus and not them.
Meh... I'm Kreacher and I'm a miserable old thing that loves insults and muttering and being rude because that's just how I am. Yeah, yeah, I know he ends up being great and all but still... he's miserable and rude and ugh... sorry. Also, there's the reason why Draco knows French XD. Runs in the Black family. Yay. Okay, thanks for reading, sorry this was late I had a late dinner XD.