The Master of Death

Chapter9: Kreacher

After breakfast, they walked up the staircase to help the others cleaning the drawing room. Death had slipped away unnoticed and was now following Harry in his human form.
When they entered the drawing room, Ginny, Fred, George, Hermione and Mrs Weasley were already battling the Doxy's in the green curtains.

"Ah good that you are here," Mrs Weasley panted, her voice muffled by a piece of cloth that covered half her face. "Grab a spray and if you got them, throw them in one of the buckets."

It was somewhat odd to have Death follow him around, unseen by everyone but him, but soon Harry was too caught up in their chore to worry much about it.

It took at least an hour until the crowd of doxy's grew thinner and even then it was still hard work. But to Harry's delight, he didn't feel exhausted at all. Death had been right. Harry's eyes found the being, who stood a few feet to his left. An already familiar warmth bloomed in his chest when his gaze fell upon the creature, a mix of relief at seeing him and something else, he couldn't quite name. The being's attention seemed to be occupied by the Doxy's, as Death observed the black fairy-like creatures buzzing through the air before he reached out to touch one mid-flight.

It dropped to the floor as if it had been hit with a spray but Harry saw that there was no life force in the little body left. As if he'd known he'd been watched, Death turned to look at Harry, a sharp grin on his face.

Harry couldn't help but smile. At least one of them had fun. Maybe it was thanks to Death, but they had cleaned out the curtains way faster than Harry had expected.

The time passed quickly and after an incident involving Mundungs trying to hide stolen kettles in Grimmauld Place and a shouting Mrs Weasley, Harry stood in front of a showcase and curiously eyed the artefacts that were displayed.

When he had lived in Grimmauld Place, these things had all been long gone.

There were a few rusty blades, a curled in snakeskin, claws, a few silver cases with interesting warding runes on them and a crystal bottle filled with blood. Vampire, if Harry's guess was correct.

While eyeing the objects behind the glass, Harry mused whether the curses would affect him still in the same way. It was obvious that something had changed within him once he agreed to become the Master of Death and not for the first time he wondered if it had been a deal with the devil.

At this moment the door swung open and Kreacher shuffled inside. He entered the room, side-eyeing Harry for a bit, but ignoring him once his attention seemed to be caught by something else. The house-elf scuffled alongside the wall, murmuring insults and indistinguishable words. „...smells like shit and is a criminal, just like the rest of the pack blood-traitors, werewolves and their bastards. Oh poor Kreacher, if his Mistress knew..."

"Hello Kreacher," Fred snapped with a loud voice and kicked the door shut.

"Kreacher didn't see the young master," the elf said and bowed before Fred, "Filthy little bastard of a blood-traitor that he is," he hissed while facing the carpet.

"Sorry, what?" George said, "I didn't get the last part."

"Kreacher didn't say anything," the house-elf said and bowed in front of George, "...and there is his twin, strange freaks altogether," Kreacher murmured, "...and there is the mudblood, disrespectful she stands, oh when my poor Mistress only knew... and there is a new boy. Kreacher-"

"Kreacher," Harry interfered, having watched the whole scene. Kreacher's eyes widened at being addressed and something within him seemed to recognize the odd echo of a bond between them.

"This is Harry, Kreacher," Hermione began gently.

"The mudblood talks to Kreacher, if Kreacher's Mistress saw him in such company, oh what would she say-"