Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Author's Note: I wrote this for my Harry Potter literature class in college and I hope you enjoy it - my professor did. :) I still fail at titles though...

Kreacher's Woes

By Skit Skit

It was nearly midnight and the inhabitants of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place had retired for the night. The dust had settled, the doxy spray had vanished and all was silent in the very old house apart from a very old elf. Slowly, from around a corner a snout-like nose appeared, followed by a pair of bloodshot eyes and one large bat-like ear. Kreacher's attempts at smuggling items had failed and yet there was the rubbish bag, lying in the corner of the room as vulnerable as ever. Perhaps Sirius and the others had overlooked Kreacher, and thought that eighteen thwarted attempts at stealing would hinder his determination. Oh, how very wrong they were.

"Master has left the bag unattended, are Master and the blood traitors returning, Kreacher doesn't know, but Kreacher will take back his Mistress's treasures, oh yes, and hide them where Master will not find them. . . ."

The elf crept into the room, his pale eyes gleaming with desire as he headed for the rubbish bag. Without a guilty bone in his entire body, Kreacher began pulling items from the bag with utmost reverence. The first object was the gold ring that Sirius had unceremoniously ripped from his grasp earlier that day. After giving the ring one loving kiss, he proceeded to grab a music box, an Order of Merlin First Class and a heavy golden locket. Kreacher's eyes swam with tears at the sight of it.

"Master Regulus's locket," he croaked, as a fat teardrop dropped off his nose. "Kreacher has failed in his orders, but Kreacher will try again and again, and he will punish himself again if he fails, for Kreacher must obey Master Regulus's orders. But for now Kreacher must keep it safe. . . ."

With his loincloth and arms laden with as many objects as he could carry, the elf moved purposefully through the house, navigating his way to the cupboard where he slept without difficulty. He knew the noble house of Black like the back of his wrinkled hand and the darkness would not delay him. Kreacher opened his cupboard, revealing a number of dirty blankets and deposited his spoils and crawled inside.

"Mistress would be so proud of Kreacher, for Kreacher has kept her treasures safe, oh yes," said Kreacher as he cradled the ring and set the musical box in the corner, squishing a spider in the process.

He wound the box, thinking he would listen to the music as he carefully tucked his treasures beneath the folds of the blankets. Soon, a soft and sinister tinkling tune emitted from the tiny box as Kreacher's bloodshot eyes began to droop. The sound reminded Kreacher of a happier time, when his Mistress was alive and Master Regulus would speak so highly of the Dark Lord and no blood traitors or brats tainted the floors and beds of the noble house of Black.

Kreacher drifted to sleep as the music continued to play, and Kreacher dreamed it was decades before. He could see them clearly, more clearly than he had before in his dreams. This was a different kind of dream. Mistress and Master Black were saying how proud they were of Regulus; they were never as proud as they were before their son joined such an important cause. Regulus needed Kreacher for an important task and he agreed. Sirius aimed a kick at Kreacher as he walked in to the drawing room while he offered a smiling girl with long blonde hair a tray of cakes as the music box sat in her lap. . . . The dreamed changed and Kreacher watched in horror as his beloved Master Regulus was dragged into the depths of the dark sea by dead hands. Kreacher apparated to the bedside of his Mistress, she was telling him that he must serve the noble house of Black. Sirius was still the remaining heir and Kreacher howled with agony as his Mistress's eyes closed. . . .

o o o

"Oh, those two!" muttered Mrs. Weasley angrily as she pulled another Extendable Ear from behind the kitchen pots. It slipped from her grasp and as she bent down to retrieve it, she spied the lower half of an elf's body sticking out from one of the cupboards.

Kreacher was snoring loudly; one foot twitching as he continued to dream long after the music box had ceased to play. Mrs. Weasley shook her head and prodded Kreacher's foot with a wooden spoon so that she could maneuver around him. In one fluid motion the feet retreated and the cupboard door closed, followed by the angry mutterings of a house elf. His bullfrog voice was not completely muffled from within the cupboard. "Oh the blood traitor will poke Kreacher will she, Kreacher will not tolerate being poked by blood traitors, oh what would my Mistress say if she saw the filth in her kitchen, using the noble silverware of Black!"

He opened his cupboard an inch, allowing enough light in to see the Black family treasures he had stolen the night before. He picked up the music box and closed the lid, as he rubbed his great bloodshot eyes. "Kreacher does not remember falling asleep halfway out of his cupboard; Kreacher would not leave himself so exposed to the tricks of the nasty blood traitor twins. Oh how Kreacher wishes his Master Regulus was here and not the swine of a son who dishonored the name of Black—"

The elf lifted up the music box and growled. "The musical box had made Kreacher dream horrible things and reminds him of his Master Regulus. Kreacher must find a way to rid the house of filth! Kreacher knows they are plotting to overthrow the Dark Lord. Kreacher must find a way."

He watched Mrs. Weasley's feet with disgust as she moved around the kitchen, clanking and clattering the dishes. Kreacher groaned and swiftly moved to the hall where he threw apart the velvet curtains from his Mistress's portrait in order to drown out the noise Mrs. Weasley was making in the kitchen while he thought of what to do.

o o o

Over the next few months, Kreacher sidled through Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place keeping his eyes and hairy ears open for an opportunity to strike. He was well aware that the music box was allowing him to vividly see his past while he slept, and this perhaps served to strengthen his idea to rid the house of the filth from within. Sirius's attitude towards the elf did not help and neither did the daily arrival of Order members swarming into the kitchen. Mundungus Fletcher in particular, the sneaky thief that he was, had stolen numerous items from the house and Kreacher's cupboard. With great tears leaking from his eyes, Kreacher sought solace behind the curtains that covered his Mistress's portrait, but found himself plagued with grief at once again not being able to tell her that Master Regulus's locket had been stolen.

When the Christmas holidays arrived, Kreacher's ill-treatment from Sirius and the arrival of the blood traitor brats only fueled the elf further. And it was that night when Sirius told him to get out that he did exactly that. With a loud crack he Disapparated, arriving at the gates of another noble home. Kreacher straightened is dirty loincloth and trekked through the snow towards the other member of the noble house of Black.

o o o

Narcissa Malfoy opened the door of her manor carefully and gazed not only on her snow-covered veranda, but also a snow-covered elf that shivered before her. Kreacher bent into so low a bow that his nose touched the icy stone and was quite certain his wet nose would freeze there. Whether he was shivering due to the cold or fear of knocking on a wizard's door, Narcissa assumed it was both. Raising an eyebrow, Narcissa inquired, "To what do I owe the displeasure of such a creature on my doorstep?"

"K- K- Kreacher lives to s-s-serve the noble house of Black. Kreacher knows many secrets of Master Sirius and Kreacher remembers Miss Cissy, oh yes, and is here to serve his new Mistress," said the elf, sinking to his knees. Narcissa looked down her nose at the elf, a cruel smile forming upon her lips as she allowed Kreacher to cross the threshold and into the warmth of her home. As he unstuck his nose from the ground, the elf bowed in his appreciation and followed Narcissa into the drawing room.

"Now, what is it you wish to tell me?" Narcissa inquired of Kreacher, her demeanor changing to one of false sweetness as Kreacher handed her the music box and began his tale.

Author's Note: Kreacher would like you to review, oh yes, for what would his Mistress say if you didn't? :P Leave a review and I'll happily review back.