"Pah! I don't want to hear accusation of cheating from YOU, upstart!" said the first head, it was old, numerous wrinkles finely aged, century by century, but its voice betrayed none of the grandfatherly persona, just the acidity of a spoilt wine. Aged, spoilt, wine, "You couldn't even keep your dignity, you've had to-"
"Well, at least I am not the one to start the" the other head chewed on its lips, producing sound of an aged ground leather, "tradition," it was more in the tone, really.
"Two of clubs!" barked the third one, that looked to be asleep just a moment ago.
"That's not even the same game, you dolt. Learn to keep your time!"
"I hate you grandfather," Kreacher said, trying to no success to stir on his plaque. It seemed such a bright idea too.
A chime sounded through the house and the wall fell silent, as usual, the magic protecting their conversation from being heard insufficient if a wizard, suddenly, strolled through, or, god forbid, one of the little ones passed. Wizards paid no attention to them anyway, but these longing, pitiful, shaming, starry eyes of their successors striving to join them in their rest, couldn't be betrayed.
"I am telling you it is an Ace of Hearts!" the first continued spitefully, once the interruption failed to produce any living soul passing through their hall, as was usually the case these days.
"'I', have the Ace of Hearts, I"
"No, you have mush for a brain, it left two weeks ago," and it was still the same game too, reconciling between moves definitely WAS a problem here, yet fuming was about as enjoyable as the game itself, to them.
"And you grand grand grand-" paying proper respect to your elder was never easy especially when you wanted to properly insult him, Kreacher thought, not that he ever considered he would have the chance to. Of both.
"Oh shut up, and just play already," one especially grisly head interrupted, viciosly grimacing (because you just had to be vicious but there were precious little options left to demonstrate it)
"-grand grandfather. And-"
"Isn't it odd how we all hate the situation," another one interfered, "but still go with it, despite everything?"
"No, the honor must be preserved," the second youngest, not that you'd find anything to tell that, mind you, interjected, "Grand grand grand-"
"-grand grand-," now there was a duo.
No, really, it was such a bright idea. Just entomb yourself in the wall and die, no one would be the wiser and bad master would have never beheaded him anyway.
His ancestor was more experienced referencing long passed house elves (or long past the habit of referencing all the grands), so he finished first, - "grand father died properly at the jagged sword of good master Marsden, we cannot bespoil his memory by revealing ourselves!"
"-grand grand grand father!" Kreacher finished. And he meant it too. Family honour and all but when you realize house Black' magic won't ever let you die properly when entombed and you are, apparently as "smart" as every but one of your predecessors. If only he was a cheater too.
"So Kreacher has three of pikes!" the only bespectaled head on the wall helpfully annotated, "moving on, and no, Ace of Hearts hasn't left, and no neither of you have it."
Kreacher glared, as did Head One, as did the other. The first rule of mind poker was for everyone to fume enough time to forget what the announcer dealt to others. Best part of it was when announcer also forgot and squabbles could continue uncontested. The spoilsport. Kreacher just hated the conversation was on-tracked again. He was fed up with this.
And the evening in house black continued as hatefully as any other, and any other to come, and only grand grand grand grand grand grand grand grand father Cakbey continued to slumber, peacefully entombed after being put to sleep by kind master Marsden, who conveniently died before informing anyone what's even the deal with the head, really.