Kreacher's Purge

"I always thought house elves were supposed to just shut up and clean," Sirius spat at the house elf, taking a threatening step towards the creature. "Why don't you go and actually do something useful for once?"

Those around him sitting at the table froze and exchanged discreet glances. Sirius was in one of his moods again; the sort where he would sit quietly and stare out of the grimy kitchen window and not say a word until his mother's portrait started its wailing or Kreacher appeared to taunt him. Then he would abruptly become gripped by an inextinguishable anger which made everyone jump; he would then stride to the door, either to grab the house elf by its neck and throw it out, or to go and scream in vain at the painted memory of his mother. These moods had become more frequent since the summer had ended and Harry had gone back to Hogwarts.

Now Molly Weasley exchanged a 'not again' sort of glance with her husband. Kingsley Shacklebolt sighed quietly. Mad-Eye Moody scoffed and frowned. Bill Weasley took a sip of his drink. Remus Lupin made a flinching movement, as though he had intended to get up and go to his friend, but then quenched the impulse at the last minute. Mundungus Fletcher used the opportunity to slip the fancy golden pair of cutlery in front of him into his pocket. And Severus Snape sat in his chair without a flicker of an emotion crossing on his face, though his eyes were fixated upon the master of the house.

Kreacher bowed mockingly, its eyes never leaving its master.

"Master wants Kreacher to clean?" it said soapily. "He has given him an order? To restore the noble House of Black to its glory? To remove filth and grime and scrub until it is pure again?"

"Whatever, you little mongrel," Sirius barked. "Get out of this kitchen before I drag you out by your ears - and don't come back until you've made some use of yourself."

"Kreacher will not stop until master's order is fulfilled," said Kreacher, and bowed again. Its eyes were flickering meanly. "Kreacher will clean until the house is pure again. He will clean and he will purge, and get rid of filthy things like master requested. And Kreacher will come back and tell master when it is done."

"Your pretentious grovelling disgusts me," Sirius snapped. "Scrub or purge or repaint the salon to match the shade of my mother's old petticoat - set the whole damn house on fire if you want! I don't care what you do! Just get out of my sight!"

The kitchen was quiet for a moment after the muttering house elf had disappeared, a careful silence hanging over the party. Remus was eyeing Sirius with worry in his eyes, but Sirius returned to his seat as though nothing had happened, took a sip of the goblet of wine in front of him, and turned his eyes back towards the weather-beaten window, behind which the autumn rain dripped from the skies.

"To return to the subject now that the master of the house has had a word with his servant," said Severus Snape finally, his quiet voice cutting the uncomfortable silence and making everyone turn their gazes towards him. The only exception was Sirius who pretended to not hear anything that came out of his mouth as per usual. "We should perhaps come up with a way to keep Potter from getting in trouble this term. Since our previous attempts have not been fruitful at containing his astonishing skill at barging straight into the mouth of danger."

"Isn't that your job, as his teacher?" Sirius said, baring his teeth at the window and refusing to still turn towards Snape. "You can hardly thrust your failures as a professor on our shoulders."

"Perhaps," Snape said sleekly. "If his dear godfather didn't applaud his rule-breaking quite so enthusiastically, my admittable failures at keeping Harry Potter from trying to get himself killed wouldn't be quite so consistent."

"Perhaps we should all just have a nice, strong cup of tea," said Molly Weasley hastily when Sirius opened his mouth again. She jumped up from her seat and threw a brave smile at the frozen-faced group of people around herself. "It's such a chilly September evening, isn't it? Nothing like a steaming cup of tea to warm us all up, right?"

Sirius snapped his mouth shut and continued to stare at the dirty window as though itching to put his fist through it.

"I'll help you," Remus said, getting up and hurrying to Molly's side. "What a great idea, Molly."

"The Dementors are breeding, Molly," said Mad-Eye in his usual gravelly voice. "Tea can't help with that sort of coldness. The only thing that can is a big bunch of Patronuses barging straight in to the crowd of those gloomy soul-suckers."

"Or a change in scenery," Mundungus Fletcher chimed in. "'Been following the Ibiza forecasts – nothin' but clear skies and cocktails there."

"Well, tea certainly can't hurt," Remus said warmly when Molly's face fell. "I could use some tea, anyway - I feel a little under the weather."

"There's a cold going around," Molly gushed gratefully. "You should be careful, Remus. Why don't you go sit back down and I'll finish this."

Snape's mouth curled scornfully at this, but he said nothing. For some time a deep silence lingered over the kitchen again, the only sounds piercing it the clanking of the giant bronze teakettle against the burner, and the crackling of the fire which Remus had lit into the stove. It wasn't until everyone besides Snape (who had shook his head at the cup offered by Molly) and Sirius (who still stared out of the window without touching the cup thrust in front of him) were sipping their teas, that the conversation resumed.

"Potter has a knack for getting into trouble, that much is true," Mad-Eye Moody said. "I think Dumbledore is making a mistake not confiding in him, but I suppose that's his business."

"Dumbledore must have his reasons," Kingsley Shacklebolt said calmly. "We should trust him even if he's not telling us everything he knows."

"His reasons!" Molly huffed in indignation. "I happen to agree with Alastor. Dumbledore is completely overlooking Harry's best interests by avoiding him. The poor boy doesn't have many people he can rely on – Dumbledore is breaking his trust, if you ask me!"

"Thankfully," Snape interrupted silkily. "Nobody did."

A short pause ensued.

"I think Molly has a point," Arthur Weasley said finally, eyeing Snape with deep dislike. "It's not fair what Dumbledore's doing to Harry. We should all support him the best we could. That's the best way to stop him from getting in trouble."

"If Dumbledore let me out of this wretched house, I would do anything in my power to support him," Sirius said bitterly, surprising everyone by joining the conversation. "But unfortunately I still find myself stuck here."

"Oh, Sirius, surely things aren't that bad," Molly said sadly. "I mean, this is, um, a very nice house." She glanced around the bleak kitchen where spider-webs dangled from the rafters and peeled wallpaper hung sadly from the damp walls. "It just needs a bit of looking after, that's all."

"I'd rather be back in that cave than be stuck here," Sirius said gloomily. "At least I had my freedom."

"But you have us to support you now," Molly tried again. "And, uh... and Kreacher."

"Lucky me," Sirius said, his mouth curling in a bitter smile. "Sure, I broke out of prison just to become a prisoner of my delightful childhood home. But how lucky I am that I now have Kreacher..."

"As much as we all undoubtedly enjoy listening to your constant whining about how bitterly unfair your life in freedom is," Snape said silkily. "Might I again suggest that we return to the subject at hand? Unlike some of us -" his eyes gleamed maliciously as he examined Sirius over his hooked nose " - I unfortunately do not have limitless amounts of time to waste."

This finally made Sirius turn his gaze from the window and cast an enraged glance Snape's way. The rest of the group again froze as the two men stared at one another across the long table, an identical look of absolute loathing in their eyes. Sirius's eyes darkened, and he opened his mouth again. But before further words were exchanged, a loud pop alerted the crowd that Kreacher had returned to the kitchen.

"Kreacher has cleaned master's house," Kreacher announced oilily, bowing deeply. "Kreacher has taken filthy, dirty things that shouldn't be in the house and he will throw them out. Kreacher has aired the air of the Noble House of Black and made it pure again..."

Sirius turned his eyes from Snape and towards Kreacher, the hate in them as strong as ever.

"Oh, great," he snapped scornfully. "I assume that when I step out of this room the house is in habitable condition again? No more spiderwebs, dust and all sorts of disgusting crap that my mother so loved? I can hardly wait to see the transformation!"

"Master did not specify what Kreacher should clean," said Kreacher, inching towards the stove where fire cracked. "Master told Kreacher to clean and be useful. Kreacher obeys. Master will see how Kreacher cleans. Purges. Gets rid of filthy things tainting master's house."

And before Sirius had had the time to as much as frown, Kreacher made a sudden movement – he took something from behind his back and threw it into the orange flames. Sirius's eyes moved from the elf and into the fire. For a heartbeat Sirius stared at the fire, at whatever it was that Kreacher had cast there. Everyone else's eyes followed his gaze. Kreacher had thrown a pile of paper into the flames, tied together with a red thread. As they watched, the pile burst into flames as the fire greedily started to devour the dry, heavy parchment.

Then Sirius jumped up so abruptly that the wine goblet in front of him fell and spilled its contents all over the table, making Molly gasp in indignation. Sirius's face had gone white as chalk, and he let out a howl. He rushed to the stove and as they watched in bewilderment, plunged his hand straight into the fire, trying to grab the pile of paper Kreacher had thrust in. He cried out in pain when the flames licked his skin, scorching it. He pulled his hand out and stared into the flames. He had been too late – whatever it was that Kreacher had thrown into the fire was gone. The parchment had burned in seconds, leaving behind nothing but black, fluttering pieces of burnt paper.

"Sirius!" Molly shouted in shock, jumping up and rushing to his side. She tried to grab his scorched hand. Sirius paid her no attention. He whirled around to face Kreacher, a look of never-before-seen rage on his pale face. The house elf was grinning, its ugly, leathery face stretched into a repulsive smile. Sirius's red, blistered hand curled into a fist.

"You... you demon!" he crackled, eyes bulging in his hollow-cheeked face. He plunged for the tiny creature which cowered and raised its thin arms to shield its head. "You're dead! I'll kill you! You're dead, you miserable mongrel! You hear me!"

"Padfoot!" Remus shouted in shock and jumped up from the table, rushing to Sirius's side. He managed to grab him by the arms before Sirius had reached Kreacher. "Help me, Arthur!"

Arthur jumped up and hurried to aid Remus in pinning the distraught Sirius in place. The rest of the group had frozen, staring at the scene in front of them with either shock or cold indifference.

"I'll fucking kill you!" Sirius shouted over and over again, trying to shake Remus and Arthur off of him, his thin, wasted body trembling from rage. "I'll tear off your head and hang it on that fucking wall with the rest of your family! You're dead! Let go of me, Remus!"

"Calm down, Sirius! Please!" Remus said, holding the distraught man in his place. He shook Sirius softly. "What is it?"

"It – it – that fucking creature...!" Sirius sputtered, a trail of spit on his chin. His eyes were huge and mad as he glared at the house elf. "It burned the letters!"

"Master told Kreacher to clean," Kreacher hummed in contentment. "Kreacher obeyed. Filthy, disgusting things, written by Mudbloods and Bloodtraitors, tainting the pure House of Blacks..."

"What letters?"

"James's letters! Lily's letters!" Sirius gasped. "All of them! All of the letters I had left!"

Remus inhaled sharply. He gripped Sirius tighter. Sirius's face distorted in pain.

"Sirius -"

"Kill yourself!" Sirius screamed at the house elf. The house elf's grin vanished. It cowered again, its miserable little face suddenly fearful. "I order you, Kreacher! Kill yourself! Take a knife from the drawer and plunge it into your heart! Kill yourself and join my mother in hell!"

"Sirius," Remus gasped. "Take it back. Take it back! Now!"

Panic flickered in the bottom of Kreacher's eyes. The elf tensed up, and its body started trembling. It whimpered. For a moment the creature just stood there, looking filthy and frail, and tried to fight his master's order - but it couldn't. Involuntarily, its body started twitching, inching towards the drawer where the knives were held. Molly quickly ran in front of the cupboard and held her hand in front of the drawer, stopping the house elf from getting its hands on the weapons.

"Sirius, take back your order!" Arthur ordered. His glasses were askew and his face was red from effort; though thin, Sirius's rage had given him inhumane strength and it almost seemed as though he might topple the two men pinning him down. "Bill, come give us a hand, won't you!"

Bill hurried to their side, and Sirius stopped struggling, perhaps realising he couldn't possibly win against such numbers.

"They were all that I had left," he panted in anguish. "The only thing."

"Kreacher must do as master has ordered him," Kreacher was wailing miserably, and tried to claw Molly out of its way to get to the concealed weapons. Tears were streaming over its dirty thin face. "Kreacher must obey and join his Mistress! Kreacher must die by his own hand!"

"Let's just all calm down here," Kingsley's deep voice interrupted, a sense of calm amongst all the madness. "Sirius, as much as this creature wronged you, this is not the way."

"He's not worth it," Remus said pleadingly into his friend's ear. "Sirius, please. Take it back. I ask you."

"They were all I had left," Sirius gasped again. He went limp against the three men, and then slumped against Remus's shoulder. Tears streamed out of his eyes. His face grimaced in pain against Remus's shoulder. "He burned them all! Everything I had!"

He hid his twisted face in his palms and wept, while Remus held him and helplessly patted him on the back. Arthur and Bill stepped away from the pair, giving them space. All strength had seemed to leave Sirius; he just clung on to his friend and wept. Apart from his crying and Kreacher's wailing, it was quiet in the kitchen once more.

"Please, Sirius," Remus whispered gently, holding the man. "Getting rid of Kreacher doesn't bring them back."

"I know," Sirius wept tiredly. "Nothing will. Nothing ever will."

"Kreacher – must – die – by – his – own – hand -"

"Please, Sirius," Molly pleaded. "Make him stop. He's hurting me."

Kreacher had started punching Molly with its tiny fists, trying to force her to move out of the way.

"Make him stop, Sirius," Remus whispered encouragingly. "Now."

Sirius took a deep, rattling breath.

"Kreacher," he said in a frail, quiet voice, without looking at the creature. "Stop. Don't kill yourself."

The creature stopped what it was doing immediately. Total silence enveloped the room after the sounds of its panting and wailing ceased. Molly rubbed at her arm, where the creature had punched her a few times. The fire crackled in the stove, having burned the last remaining pieces of parchment a long time ago. Remus still held Sirius.

"Did you take them all?" Sirius finally asked in a dull voice, without turning to look at the house elf. "Even the one I was reading last night? The one by my bedside table - with the photo?"

"Kreacher did not look there," the house elf said, swinging nervously on its heel. "Kreacher knew master keeps the letters together in one of the drawers of his desk. Kreacher went and got them, but he did not know some were missing."

"I forbid you from ever touching that letter," Sirius said, his voice trembling. "You will not touch it. You will not look at it. You will keep out of my room, and especially away from that drawer. Do you understand me, Kreacher?"

"Kreacher understands master's order and will do as he commands."

"Go to your room," Sirius said quietly. "I don't want to see you again. Keep out of my sight."

For a heartbeat, the creature kept swinging on his heel. It bowed slightly, its face twisted in a strange, almost regretful grimace. Then, with a pop, the creature vanished.

"Your hand, Sirius," Molly said in worry. "It needs ointment."

"There's nothing here," Sirius said in that same dull voice. "But don't fuss. It's not painful."

The hand was blistered, red and sore-looking, but Molly didn't dare to object. Nobody said anything when Sirius separated himself from Remus and walked out of the room. They heard his steps go up the stairs, and he was gone for some time, during which nobody said anything, at most exchanging nervous glances and shaking their heads. Remus sat back down and stared at the door with a worried, tired frown on his face.

After a few minutes, Sirius came back. Clearly he hadn't trusted Kreacher's word, because he was clutching a parchment in his uninjured hand, and as he walked back to his seat, he positioned the letter onto the table, far away from the wine stains, handling it carefully like it was a sacred artefact. It was neatly folded, its blue ink written in curvy letters well-preserved despite their old age. Remus was eyeing Sirius with a pitying expression in his eyes when his only remaining friend slumped back into his seat, stared for a while at the letter lying on the worn surface of the table, and then turned his gaze back towards the window, where water was dripping in streaks across the dirty glass.

Molly and Arthur exchanged another glance between them, before Molly conjured up a rag and rubbed off the spilt wine. Bill took another awkward sip of his drink, uncomfortable with all the drama. Mundungus was discreetly fingering the cutlery in his pocket and thinking of Ibiza. Kingsley and Mad-Eye were shaking their heads quietly.

But while everyone else's attention was directed elsewhere, Severus Snape sat very still and stared at the letter on the table, a strange look in his eyes which nobody would have understood had they happened to lift their gazes right that moment and seen it. Something carefully hidden inside him had jolted when Sirius had set the letter on the table and his eyes had first settled on the familiar handwriting. His wasted soul was burning to read what the hand that had once moved across the old parchment had written there.

At that moment, Severus Snape decided that he had to have it.

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