Chapter 1 ~ Grim Old Elf

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"This should be the place," I muttered as I squinted at the phonebook and atlas in my hands. The lack of city lights on my side of the road wasn't doing me any favors.

My eyes turned to peer up at Number 12 in interest. I could see it, but I knew non-magicals couldn't. There was no fancy reveal like I'd seen in the movies. Maybe it was because I knew what to look for? But then, wouldn't have any of Blacks on enemy lines been able to access Grimmauld Place? Now that I thought about it, that was one jarring plot hole I hadn't noticed until now. The best conclusion I could come up with was that the place had yet to be put under the Fidelius.

Nodding to myself, I closed the books in my hands and turned away from Number 11 to ascend the steps of Number 12. Despite being there, it still felt surreal to be confronted with even more evidence that I was now living in a fictional world.

The doorknob lacking door creaked open, as did the wooden floors when I stepped foot inside. The place was dusty and reeked of age. Portraits in the entry way turned to look at me with curiosity gleaming from their eyes. I ignored them when the first of the shouts began, and side stepped the troll footed umbrella stand. That's when I felt a force knocking me back, and I ended up dragging the umbrella stand with me into the door. Not through it, but into it. The only thing that kept me from becoming a mess of massive splinters were the large hiking bags on my back.

"Who dares enter Mistress Black's abode!" growled a wrinkled old thing above me.

Belatedly, I realized that that thing was Kreacher the house-elf.

"Isn't she suppose to be dead by now or something?" I said before I could stop myself.

That seemed to do it for poor battered Kreacher. It was like he snapped out of some delusional trance when he collapsed to the ground in tears. I winced. Walburga Black must have died some time recently then.

Sighing, I unstrapped myself from the packs on my back and pulled away from the door. Unfortunately, that didn't help me get out of the floor. I was sunk in waist deep.

"Kreacher," I called. But the elf continued to cry. "Kreacher! I'm here to help with that task Regulus left you!"

It was as though a switch had flipped in the elf's mind, because he was attentive at once.

"Master Regulus?" he sniffed, drying away the tears with the collar of his pillow case.

"Yes, Regulus," I told the elf soothingly. "I know how to destroy the thing he left behind. In exchange, I want access to this house. Oh and can you get me out of this?" I made my point by trying and failing to climb out of the floor I'd sunken into. I only succeeded in knocking my foot against the umbrella stand that was submerged along with me.

Kreacher didn't answer, but that was alright. His actions were more than enough.

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|September/18/2018| An agreement. Don't underestimate a house-elf's loyalty.

Edited |September/20/2018|.