The Marauders: Year Two | #Wattys2016

Secrets and Private Words

Secrets and Private Words

Kreacher's shrieks filled the bedroom as the putrid scent of a losing gobstone filled the air. Regulus laughed as the House Elf flapped his short little arms, trying to protect his large and wrinkled nose from the assault. Regulus clapped when the little stone had finished spraying at the elf. "I've won again," he said pointedly, grinning at the elf. "How many times does that make now, Kreacher?"

"Master Regulus has won at Gobstones every time we has playsed it," Kreacher answered croakily. "Every time, and we has playsed it over and over."

Regulus grinned, "Correct. I am the Gobstones champion of the world. One day, I'll play in a professional league and everyone will come from far and wide to see me play!" He sat in his little chair rather regally, his chest puffed like a peacock.

"From far and wide, yes, Master Regulus, they will come from far and wide," the House Elf nodded, eager to please his master with these praises.

Regulus grinned. "Reset the board, Kreacher!"

The house elf hastened to put the marbles back in their starting positions and he'd nearly finished when the front door of Number 12 Grimmauld Place slammed shut so hard that the walls shook and the table upon which they were setting up the game trembled so badly that several of the gobstones rolled from the game board and onto the floor, making them release their foul stench.

"Ugh!" complained Regulus, clutching his nose, "That's awful! Kreacher, make it stop smelling," he commanded.

Kreacher looked helplessly at the floor and then up at the despondent, demanding expression his master had and he clicked his fingers to clean up the mess instantly, unsure what else he could do to stop the horrible stench of the gobstones from offending his master's delicate nostrils.

There came loud shouting from downstairs, muffled only by the door, and Regulus looked at Kreacher with wide, questioning eyes. "What do you reckon's going on down there?" he asked the Elf.

"Kreacher doesn't know what's happening downstairs, Master Regulus," he said, "Kreacher has been here, playing Gobstones with Master Regulus and hasn't been downstairs yet to find out."

Regulus didn't seem satisfied with this response, he scowled and got up and went over to the door, opening it up and sneaking out onto the landing of the stairs. He peered down through the bannister rungs to the floor below, where his father, Orion, stood in the doorway, his cloak hood pulled down and speckled with the mist that was falling outside as evening came. Walburga was dusting off his cloak with her palms and drying him with her wand, but he didn't look happy at all, quite the opposite.

Kreacher crouched beside Regulus on the stairwell, peering down.

"...had him, right there in the room... The Dark Lord will have my head for this!" Orion's voice was a mixture of anger and a quivering fear. "You mark my words, Walburga."

"It's hardly your fault," she replied. "There were others there that are just as responsible for the blood-traitor's escape as you are."

"It was my job," Orion answered, "I was assigned to see to it that we get as much information from him as possible and then kill him and instead --" he guffawed loudly, "Instead, he simply leaves and we have no information and no corpse to present to His Lordship. I fear it will be my own that will replace it," Orion murmured.

Walburga's voice was solid and stern, "If it is, you will know at least that it was for a good reason. The Dark Lord does not move without purpose. You've violated his order. You should be prepared for anything."