CHERRY, george weasley

052, kreacher the house elf!

AS SOON AS MOLLY left the room, everyone was quick to rush to the window so they could look down at the doorstep.

"Mundungus!" Hermione said. "What's he brought all those cauldrons for?"

"Probably looking for a safe place to keep them," Harry muttered. "Isn't that what he was doing the night he was supposed to be tailing me? Picking up dodgy cauldrons?"

"Yeah, you're right!" Fred exclaimed, as the front door opened. Mundungus heaved his cauldrons through it and disappeared from view. "Blimey, Mum won't like that. . ."

He and George crossed to the door and stood beside it, listening closely. Loralei was quick to join them, pushing Fred out of the way with a grin. Fred jokingly rolled his eyes, and flicked his girlfriend on the ear as he spoke, "Mundungus is talking to Sirius and Kingsley. Can't hear properly. . . d'you reckon we can risk the Extendable Ears?"

"Might be worth it," George shrugged, "I could sneak upstairs and get a pair—"

At that very moment, there was an explosion of sound from downstairs. It seemed that they didn't need the Extendable Ears. All of them could hear exactly what Molly was shouting.

"WE ARE NOT RUNNING A HIDEOUT FOR STOLEN GOODS!"

"I love hearing Mum shouting at someone else," Fred gave everyone a satisfied smile as he opened the door an inch or so to allow Molly's voice to permeate the room better, "it makes such a nice change."

'—COMPLETELY IRRESPONSIBLE, AS IF WE HAVEN'T GOT ENOUGH TO WORRY ABOUT WITHOUT YOU DRAGGING STOLEN CAULDRONS INTO THE HOUSE—"

"The idiots are letting her get into her stride," said George, shaking his head. "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 — and there goes Sirius's mum again."

Molly's voice was lost amid fresh shrieks and screams from the portraits in the hall. George quickly shut the door to drown the noise, but before he could do so, a house-elf edged into the room. Cerise groaned once she saw Kreacher.

". . . 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 into 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 greeted loudly as Cerise moved to stand by George and Elijah.

The house-elf froze in his tracks, stopped muttering, and gave a very pronounced and very unconvincing start of surprise.

"Kreacher did not see Young Master," he said, turning around and bowing to Fred. Still lacing the carpet, he added, perfectly audibly, "Nasty little brat of a blood traitor it is."

"Sorry?" George smirked. "Didn't catch that last bit."

"Kreacher said nothing," said the elf, with a second bow to George, adding in a clear undertone, "and there's its twin, unnataral little beasts they are."

". . .and there's the Mudblood, standing there bold as brass, oh if my mistress knew, oh, how she'd cry, 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," Hermione said tentatively. "Harry Potter."

Kreacher's eyes widened and he muttered faster and more furiously than ever. "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!" said Ron, Elijah and Ginny together, very angrily.

"It doesn't matter," Hermione whispered, "he's not in his right mind, he doesn't know what he's—"

"Don't kid yourself, Hermione, he knows exactly what he's saying," Fred eyed Kreacher with great dislike.

Kreacher was still muttering, his eyes on Harry. "Is it true? Is it Harry Potter? 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," said Fred.

"What do you want, anyway?" George asked.

Kreacher's huge eyes darted towards George. "Kreacher is cleaning," he said evasively.

"A likely story."

Sirius was glowering at the elf from the doorway.
At the sight of Sirius, Kreacher flung himself into a ridiculously low bow that flattened his snoutlike nose on the floor.

Stand up straight," said Sirius impatiently. "Now, what are you up to?"

"Kreacher is cleaning," the elf repeated. "Kreacher lives to serve the Noble House of Black—"

"—and it's getting blacker every day, it's filthy," said Sirius.

"Master always liked his little joke," said Kreacher, bowing again, and continuing in an undertone, "Master was a nasty ungrateful swine who broke his mother's heart—"

"My mother didn't have a heart, Kreacher," snapped Sirius. "She kept herself alive out of pure spite."

Kreacher bowed again as he spoke. "Whatever Master says," he muttered furiously. "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," said Sirius coldly. "Every time you show up pretending to be cleaning, you sneak something off to your room so we can't throw it out."

"Kreacher would never move anything from its proper place in Master's house," said the elf, then muttered very fast, "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," said Sirius as Cerise leaned her body on George. "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."

Kreacher shuffled out past Sorius and he muttered all the way out of the room. "— comes back from Azkaban ordering Kreacher around, oh, my poor mistress, what would she say if 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!" said Sirius irritably as he slammed the door shut on the elf.

"Sirius, he's not right in the head," Hermione pleaded, "I don't think he realises we can hear him."

"He's been alone too long," said Sirius, "taking mad orders from my mother's portrait and talking to himself, but he was always a foul little—"

"If you could just set him free," said Hermione hopefully, making "maybe—"

Cerise felt Fred, Loralei and George giving Cerise a glance. Hermione really did remind them of first year Cerise. Cerise had changed a lot since first year, she was no longer a huge bookworm that loved school work.

"We can't set him free, he knows too much about the Order," Sirius said. "And anyway, the shock would kill him. You suggest to him that he leaves this house, see how he takes it."