Chapter 316: Kreacher

In the end, Moody was persuaded by the other members of the Order to hold his tongue.

Sirius took the trio to a room for a private conversation, but when they entered, they found a house-elf berating Sirius.

The house-elf, named Kreacher, was small and hunched over, with skin as pale as parchment and large bat-like ears adorned with white hair.

His attire was a ragged piece of cloth, and he looked ancient.

"—Coming back from Azkaban and treating poor Kreacher like this, oh, my poor mistress!

If she saw the house in such disarray, she'd say that the despicable scoundrel moved in, that her precious belongings were thrown out, that she swore she would disown her son, and now he's back, rumored to be a murderer—"

"If you keep mumbling, I'll really end up murdering someone!"

Sirius snapped, pushing the house-elf out of the room and slamming the door behind him.

"I think his mind isn't right," Hermione said softly. "He's just very old."

Unlike other proud wizards, Hermione, who came from a Muggle family, was more inclined to treat magical creatures with equality.

"He's been alone for too long," Sirius said.

"After taking orders from my mother's portrait, talking to himself, and getting crazier. But he was always a nasty little—"

"Perhaps if you freed him," Hermione suggested hopefully, "maybe—"

"We can't free him. He knows too much about the Order's business." Sirius said harshly.

"And besides, the shock of it all would likely kill him. Imagine if you suddenly demanded he leave this house—see how he'd react."

He then turned to Alaric and asked straightforwardly.

"So, what brings you here? You know I'm always willing to help."

The three exchanged glances before Alaric spoke up.

"Actually, we're here to inquire about Regulus Black. We want to know what happened before his death."

"Regulus Black, huh…" Sirius's expression darkened as he spoke.

"That's a long story."

He walked to one end of the room where a large tapestry covered the entire wall.

Alaric and his companions followed.

The tapestry appeared old and faded, with several parts gnawed by some rodent.

However, the golden threads still glinted, revealing a sprawling family tree that traced back to medieval times.

At the top of the tapestry, it read, "The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black – Always Pure."

"You're not on it!" Hermione suddenly exclaimed as she looked at the bottom of the tapestry.

"Used to be," Sirius said, pointing to a small blackened circle on the tapestry, like a burn mark.

"After I ran away from home, my dear old mother had me erased—Kreacher loves to mumble about it."

"You ran away from home?"

"I was about sixteen," Sirius said. "I'd had enough. I hated all of them.

My parents, obsessed with pure blood, believed that being a Black made one inherently noble, while my stupid brother, Regulus Black, was weak enough to believe their nonsense… That was him."

Sirius pointed to the bottom of the family tree where Regulus Black's name was listed, with a death date around fifteen years ago.

"He was younger than me," Sirius said.

"Everyone kept reminding me how much better he was. But that foolish idiot joined the Death Eaters."

"Although I don't know why you're interested in Regulus, I can tell you that in my family, my parents believed Voldemort's ideals were correct.

They supported maintaining the purity of wizard blood, getting rid of Muggle-borns, and letting pure-bloods dominate.

They weren't unique in this; before Voldemort revealed his true nature, many thought his ideas had some merit.

But when they saw how he pursued power by any means, they all shrank back.

I suppose my parents saw Regulus joining in early on as a brave little hero."

"How did he die?" Hermione asked curiously.

"I don't know," Sirius said.

"He might have been killed by Voldemort, or more likely, murdered under Voldemort's orders.

I doubt Regulus was important enough to warrant Voldemort killing him personally.

From what I've learned after his death, he had fallen deeply into Voldemort's clutches and feared what he was being forced to do, wanting to back out.

But you can't just resign from Voldemort's service. It's a lifetime commitment or a death sentence.

I didn't have much contact with him before he died… But Kreacher took care of him; you might ask Kreacher.

He would know better than I do—if you can tolerate his bad temper."

Sirius opened the door and called, "Kreacher!"

With a pop, the house-elf appeared before them, casting a disdainful and reluctant glance.

"Master," Kreacher said in a croaky voice, bowing low with a mumble.

"Bringing two filthy mudbloods and a lowly veela into my mistress's old home—"

"I forbid you to call anyone 'lowly' or 'mudblood'," Sirius shouted. "I want you to answer their questions, whatever they ask, truthfully. Understand?"

"Yes, Master," Kreacher replied, bowing low again.

However, Alaric noticed Kreacher's lips silently moving, undoubtedly muttering the derogatory words he was now forbidden to say.

Even Hermione, who was least prejudiced against house-elves, found Kreacher's long nose and bloodshot eyes rather unappealing.

Alaric, growing impatient, pointed at Kreacher, causing his long nose to start stretching.

"If you say anything unpleasant while answering questions, your nose will grow an inch," Alaric said coldly, arms crossed.

"Let's see how long it gets."

Perhaps frightened by his nose now reaching his chest or intimidated by Alaric's aura, Kreacher immediately shut his mouth and retreated to a corner, quivering.

"You have a way with him," Sirius said, patting Alaric on the shoulder.

"We still have some things to discuss. Ask your questions."

With that, Sirius returned to the living room, leaving Alaric, Hermione, and Fleur alone with Kreacher.

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