Harry Potter and the Ties that Bind

Chapter 9

Harry discovered that a magically screaming portrait wasn't the only nuisance in this house.

"Filthy master... blood traitor master... brings his filthy half-blood into the great House of Black, he does..."

"Oh, great," Sirius groaned, "I almost forgot about him."

Harry stared down at the tiny house elf, who looked nothing like any of the other house elves he'd seen before. While all of them were short, skinny, had long noses, floppy ears and big eyes, this one appeared almost emaciated. He walked with a noticeable stoop. Both his posture and gait betrayed his apathy. Beady black eyes stared up at them, glaring with a tepidness that Harry recognized as the look of someone who'd given up on everything. This was an elf who had nothing to live for.

"Who's the elf?"

"That's Kreacher," Sirius answered with a sigh. "The foulest, most loathsome little thing you'll ever meet."

"Such kind things filthy blood-traitor master says to poor Kreacher..." Kreacher muttered, wringing his hands together. "Mistress would be so displeased by the company filthy master keeps..."

"Mistress?" Harry glanced at Sirius.

"Remember that portrait you shut up back in the hallway? That was Walburga Black, my dearly departed mother and the 'mistress' that Kreacher's talking about."

"He seems awfully devoted to her."

"Well, considering that portrait was the only person he had to talk to for several decades, I imagine he would be."

"Does that mean he would do anything to please her?"

"Uh," Sirius appeared taken aback by his question, "I-I guess so."

"I see," Harry murmured before turning back to the elf. "Kreacher! How dare you shame your mistress!"

Kreacher stopped mumbling mid-sentence, his eyes going so wide Harry thought they might fall out. "Shamed mistress?"

"That's right!" Harry barked, putting on his best "I'm better than you" sneer as he stared his nose down at the house elf. "Look at how filthy this mansion is! Have you grown lackadaisical in your old age? How do you think your mistress feels living in such a disgusting domicile? Where is your pride as a house elf to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black?! Well?! Answer me!"

"I... I... don't... mistress!" Kreacher fell to his knees, hands gripping his head and a look of absolute horror etched on his face. "Mistress, forgive Kreacher! He hasn't been taking care of you! He's let your house fall into disrepair! Mistress... mistress!"

Sirius stared between Harry and Kreacher for several seconds, as if not quite sure what to make of the current events.

"Uh, Harry?"

"Not now," Harry muttered. "Kreacher, get a hold of yourself! There is still time to do your mistress proud!"

"There is?" Kreacher looked up at Harry, wide eyes staring at him in unabashed hope.

"There is. I need you to listen to everything I say. If you do, then your mistress will be very happy."

Kreacher nodded his head eagerly. "Kreacher will listen to filthy half-blood's words."

"What did you call me?" Harry hissed. Kreacher's eyes widened. "How dare you insult me. Do you know who I am? I am the heir apparent to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter! Son of James Potter, who was the son of Dorea Potter nee Black, an heiress to the Most Ancient and Noble Black family itself, and you dare to insult me?"