0428 Hermione and Kreacher

Sirius, noticing the tension building in the air, decided to intervene before Hermione's famous persistence could lead to an interrogation. He glanced at Remus, who was also looking at him with undisguised curiosity.

"It's not that dramatic, Ron—" Sirius began pursing his lips. With a sigh, he gave Remus and the two girls a brief overview of the morning's events.

Just as Harry had anticipated, Hermione immediately frowned, with the same displeased look as Professor McGonagall catching someone misbehaving in Transfiguration class. Ginny, on the other hand, looked at her three brothers with envy, but having missed out, she was embarrassed to ask Sirius for a similar opportunity.

"Ludo Bagman—" Remus's eyebrows twitched slightly upon hearing the story. "I've heard about his reputation—" he trailed off, leaving the implication hanging in the air.

"Well, Ludo has his fair share of quirks," Mr. Weasley admitted, his fingers absently playing with the handle of his teacup. "There are quite a few people in the Ministry who have issues with him, and some have even gone so far as to request the Minister to dismiss him." He paused, taking a sip of his tea before continuing. "But, you have to admit, it's hard to find a Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports with more passion than him, isn't it?"

Remus nodded slowly. He had heard numerous rumors about Ludo Bagman's poor credibility. A part of him wanted to warn Harry and the others that their bets might be wasted, and Bagman's charm often outweighed his reliability. However, out of respect for Arthur and a desire not to dampen the jovial mood of the breakfast, he decided to hold his tongue on the matter.

"By the way—" Sirius interjected, breaking the moment of silence. He reached for a slice of apple pie, and as he took a bite, savoring the sweet, cinnamon-spiced filling, he asked, "Have you seen Kreacher?"

Remus shook his head, his eyes showing a hint of resignation. "No, when I came to the dining room, all the food was already on the table—" He paused, choosing his next words carefully. "You know, Sirius, house-elves don't typically like people of my... condition. Besides, I prevented it from inviting the Malfoys to visit earlier, so it's probably not too thrilled to see me—"

Sirius's face darkened at the mention of the Malfoys, "That's exactly what I wanted to address—" Sirius's face darkened further as he shouted, "Kreacher!"

CRACK!

The sudden, explosive sound in the air was like a thunderclap in the peaceful garden. Ron, caught mid-bite of a particularly large pasty, let out a strangled yelp of surprise. His eyes bulged comically as he began to choke.

Hermione, displaying reflexes that would have made Bryan proud, sprang into action. With an exasperated roll of her eyes she delivered a swift, hard slap to his back. The force of the blow caused Ron to lurch forward, his eyes watering as he finally managed to cough up the piece stuck in his throat.

As soon as she was certain that Ron was out of immediate danger, Hermione's attention snapped to the small creature that had suddenly materialized at Sirius's side. Her brow furrowed deeply as she took in the sight before her.

The house-elf that appeared in the garden was clearly very old. Hermione noticed that its tennis ball-sized eyes were cloudy, as if its vision was deteriorating, and the tufts of white hair growing from its bat-like ears further confirmed her suspicion about its age.

As it bowed to Sirius, Hermione felt a surge of sympathy and she was certain that the action was not voluntary. The elf's movements were extremely slow, as if it might fall over at any moment.

The poor creature wore nothing but a dirty rag wrapped around its body. But what truly alarmed Hermione, causing her face to pale and her eyes to blaze with righteous anger, was the potato clutched in Kreacher's hand- it was peeled but completely raw, and covered in insect bites.

Hermione's gaze darted between the pitiful potato and Sirius, her mind whirling with questions and accusations. With a table full of delicious food right there, why was Sirius making this elderly house-elf eat this?

"Kreacher was cleaning the kitchen, but came immediately when the prodigal young master called," the house-elf said in a voice that creaked like old floorboards. His hunched posture made him appear even smaller, as if he were trying to shrink away from sight. "Does the young master have any orders for Kreacher? Kreacher lives to serve the noble House of Black."

Sirius, still harboring resentment from Narcissa's earlier jabs, seemed equally uncomfortable at the sight of the cold potato in Kreacher's oversized hands.

Ever since Bryan had helped him and Remus bring Regulus back from the island cave and held a funeral for him near the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts, this house-elf had been much more polite to Sirius than he remembered. However, some fundamental issues remained unchanged.

"I want to ask you, Kreacher—" Sirius began, his voice harsh with barely contained irritation. He leaned forward slightly, his grey eyes boring into the elf's cloudy ones. "Did you invite Narcissa Malfoy to visit the tent earlier on your own initiative? I don't recall giving such an order!"

Kreacher sniffled, his tennis ball-sized eyes filled with confusion. Still hunched over, he tilted his head to look at Sirius. "But Miss Narcissa is not an outsider. The mistress loved Miss Narcissa and Miss Bellatrix the most when she was alive!"

After a pause, Kreacher added in a low voice, "The mistress didn't like the prodigal young master, but for the sake of Master Regulus, Kreacher reluctantly serves the young master."

Harry and Hermione had seen this very old house-elf once before, at Regulus's funeral. At that time, the elf had been too busy grieving to interact with them.

But now it was clear that the differences between individual house-elves could be vast. Kreacher was nothing like Dobby.

"You don't need to force yourself, Kreacher—" Sirius said irritably.

Realizing that arguing with Kreacher was pointless, Sirius thought for a moment before giving him a direct order not to contact the Malfoy family, and then dismissed him.

"Wait, Excuse me, Is your name Kreacher?" Just as Kreacher was about to disapparate, Hermione finally couldn't contain herself any longer. She stood up from her seat, hurriedly walked around the table with two pasties in hand, and approached Kreacher with a friendly smile. "Could I trade these two pasties for the potato in your hand, Kreacher? It looks... delicious!"

Everyone's face was full of big question marks, not understanding what Hermione was trying to do.

"The Mudblood is speaking to Kreacher, the Mudblood wants to curry favor with Kreacher!" Kreacher recoiled several steps, as if he had seen something filthy on Hermione's frozen smile.

At the table, Harry and Ron suddenly frowned. Although they had felt some sympathy for the elderly house-elf who still had to serve others, all that sympathy vanished when it called Hermione a Mudblood.

"Don't use that word for Hermione, apologize to her right now, Kreacher!" Sirius glared furiously at Kreacher.

"Oh, it's alright, Sirius—" Hermione quickly tried to stop him from losing his temper. "Look, this house-elf is very old, isn't it? It's been doing heavy work all morning and is only eating a cold, rotten potato. It might be a bit, I mean—"

"There's no need to defend it, Hermione—" Sirius said. "It knows exactly what it's saying!"

Faced with a direct order from Sirius, Kreacher couldn't disobey. The magic binding him to the House of Black compelled him to comply, regardless of his personal feelings. He bent down to apologize to Hermione, but it was clear he was still very unwilling, muttering curses under his breath.

"Do you remember what happened the last time you called someone a 'Mudblood,' Kreacher?" Sirius said, rolling his eyes at Kreacher's grumbling. "Do you want me to do it to you too?"

Kreacher suddenly froze, his expression becoming somewhat dazed.

"What in Merlin's name is happening, Sirius?" Remus inquired, his brow furrowing with a mixture of concern and curiosity. His eyes darted between his old friend and the frozen house-elf, searching for some explanation. Remus knew how difficult it was to deal with this inherited Black family house-elf.

Before he assisted in bringing Regulus back from that terrifying cave filled with Inferi, Kreacher had never shown him anything but contempt and hostility. After that incident, the elf had at least stopped cursing at him, but that was about it.

"It's Bryan—" Sirius glanced sideways at Kreacher, pursing his lips. "When Kreacher first met him, he channeled my dear old mum's portrait to perfection. Called Bryan a 'filthy, lowborn Mudblood' right to his face. Heh, you should know, Bryan wouldn't tolerate his nonsense. But now, Kreacher is very fond of Bryan, isn't that right?"

"That powerful wizard sir helped Kreacher find Master Regulus. The young master and his friend just took advantage," Kreacher muttered, but Sirius just laughed coldly.

Perhaps Sirius's words reminded Kreacher that the person he respected most was also a 'Mudblood.' So, before Kreacher disappeared, he bowed slightly to Hermione and apologized in a voice only he could hear. However, he didn't take the pie from Hermione's hand.

"What exactly did Professor Watson do to Kreacher?" Hermione asked, her tone carrying a hint of accusation.

Sirius chuckled, his grey eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, Hermione, you wouldn't want to know the details," he said, waving a hand dismissively. But as he caught sight of Hermione's increasingly stern expression, he raised an eyebrow. "What's the matter? You look as though someone's just told you the library's been closed permanently."

Hermione's frown deepened, her voice taking on a lecturing tone. "You shouldn't be so rude to him, Sirius. And." She paused, glancing at the spot where the house-elf had disappeared. "And he's very old! He should retire. You should let him rest!"

Sirius's laugh was loud and genuine this time.

"Merlin's beard, Hermione! You're practically asking for his life," Sirius said, shaking his head with amusement. "House-elves don't care about rest or retirement. They serve their wizarding families for life. Trust me, if I told Kreacher he was free now, the shock might just kill him!"

As Sirius spoke, Harry who had been quietly observing the exchange suddenly chimed in.

"I used to know a house-elf called Dobby, He served the Malfoy family, but he absolutely loathed them. All he wanted was to be free. In the end, he managed to gain his freedom."

Sirius turned to face Harry as a genuine surprised expression appeared on his face.

"Is that so?" Sirius pondered, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose there are oddballs in every race. But Harry you have to understand that this Dobby of yours was a rare case indeed. If you knew more about house-elves as a whole, you'd see I'm not pulling your leg here."

Hermione, however, was not to be dissuaded. Her eyes flashed with indignation as she pressed on, her voice filled with righteous anger.

"But Sirius, don't you see how absurd this is? All of this food" – she gestured at the full table – "comes from Kreacher's hard work, and yet he's reduced to eating rotten potatoes! Unless..." Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Unless you've explicitly ordered him not to touch our food, or you're not paying him a fair wage!"

The word 'pay' seemed to trigger a ripple of amusement through the room. It wasn't just Sirius who laughed this time; almost the entire Weasley family joined in, their chuckles filling the air. Sirius, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye, didn't bother to point out the fundamental misunderstanding in Hermione's assumption. Instead, he said, "When you get back to Hogwarts, Hermione, I suggest you pay a visit to the library. Look up some information about house-elves. Then you'll understand what makes Kreacher and his kind tick."

As the debate about house-elf welfare continued in the background, the excitement for the upcoming Quidditch World Cup began to build.

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