Chapter Three
"Kreacher? Your a, um, sorry, you're a kreacher?" the young boy asked, looking confused.
"No, Young Master," Kreacher explained patiently, "I is called Kreacher. I is a House Elf."
"An elf?" Harry muttered, disoriented, "But elves don't exi-" he paused, and looked at the other creature, sheepishly, "Er, well, clearly you exist… um, Kreacher, sir."
"I is only Kreacher," he corrected, gently, "A mere servant of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black."
"Oh," the boy repeated dumbly, feeling terribly inadequate. This- er, being- served the nobility. "What are you doing here?"
"I is here to serve you, Young Master," Kreacher said, stuffing his chest out in pride, "You is the Heir to the Black Family."
Harry stared at him. "No, I'm sorry Kreacher, but you made some kind of mistake," he whispered quickly, "I'm no heir. I'm just Harry."
Kreacher snorted. His Young Master was so silly.
"You is the Master of the Black Family," the elf replied firmly, "And a wizard. I is Kreacher, and I is your elf."
"I'm no wizard, Kreacher," the young child argued, laughing a little, "Wizards don't exist!"
Normally, Harry would be horribly awkward and scared at this moment, but he had just had a truly wonderful day, and he was comfortably full, and, with the soft hush of the night, this all felt like some grand adventure really. A most pleasant if off dream. And there was something about this being that compelled Harry to trust him, despite his scary face and creepy eyes.
The elf put his hands on his hips and fixed the boy with a stern eye. "Now don't be saying that, Young Master," he scolded, "Oh, for Young Master not to know of magic, what a shame, what a shame. Young Master will be a very powerful wizard some day, oh yes, he will. Kreacher has seen it!"
The boy watched with wary eyes as the odd creature suddenly turned and jumped off the cot, though there was little room to maneuver in the cupboard. The spindly little fingers of this Kreacher fellow scoured the wooden floorboards quickly, until they circled around a wrinkled scrap of paper and lifted it up to show Harry. The boy watched, stunned, as the forgotten piece of rubbish suddenly turned to a shard of glass, which slowly transformed until a beautiful glass flower rested against the elf's wrinkled palm.
The boy with the untidy dark hair accepted the offered trinket in wonder. Against the flat of his palm, he felt the tiny lily flower, curved petals as smooth as silk and clear as water. His heartbeat thudded against his chest, as everything Harry had ever thought- ever been told- shattered below this sudden bauble.
"A lily," he mouthed, another hand raising to let his fingers slide over the glass, "So pretty. Magic… is real?"
"Yes," Kreacher affirmed, inwardly smiling at the wonder in his Young Master's voice (he still did not want to scare the boy by showing it outwardly). Young Master was so adorable.
"But I've never done anything like this," Harry said softly, looking stricken. "Kreacher, I'm sorry, but you've mistaken me for-"
"Harry James Potter, son of James Charles Potter and Lily Marie Potter nee Evans," Kreacher listed off slyly, suddenly catching the full extent of his Young Master's attention.
Harry's piercing green eyes- no less potent for its' youth- fastened upon him, with such unerring hunger that Kreacher knew he had been denied the most basic of information on his parents. His breath was almost taken away. His Master had such marvelous eyes.
"You knew my parents?" Harry stated, or perhaps demanded, with the intensity that would one day be evident to every person he spoke with.
"I only knew of Lady Lily, Young Master, but I have met Master James before," Kreacher replied.
Old Master Sirius had invited that uncouth, loud ruffian over on several occasions. He was the only one of the boy's friends that Master Orion had allowed, being both a Pureblood and a distant relative of the Blacks from Lady Dorea, though Mistress Walburga found him distasteful. Kreacher had agreed, but he couldn't be all bad since he was the sire of one as great as Master Harry.
...He was beginning to sound suspiciously similar to that annoying mad elf, Dobby.
"What were they like? Do you have any pictures? Can you tell me anything?" the questions stumbled out. "Their middle names were Charles and Marie? And my Dad's name was James? That's my middle name!"
"You is named after your father, Young Master," Kreacher said, lifting himself up to sit in the bed next to the excited boy. "And he is named after his own father, Charles Potter. That would be your grandfather."
"My grandfather…" Harry repeated, a smile spreading across his face, "I- do you… perhaps have any pictures?"
"I have a few of your grandparents and your father in my possession," the elf replied, "I will bring them to you tomorrow night, if you would like?"
"Yes, please!" Harry cried, blinking his eyes rapidly, "Please do- I've never seen one before. Thank you, Kreacher."
"It is my pleasure, Master," he was very proud as he answered, "And I believe I have one of your mother as well. I shall also bring it."
"What do you know of my parents, Kreacher?" Harry looked at him imploringly.
"They is a very good witch and wizard, Young Master," Kreacher reported. His Master's mother was a Mudbl- Muggleborn, but Master Harry credited her for saving his life as a child, so she could be nothing less than a truly gifted witch.
"Wizards…" Harry muttered, voice breaking, "But they died in a car crash. How could they have died if they had magic to protect them?"
"Your family lied to you, Master," the elf's voice was gentle, "They did not die in a car crash. They were very brave and strong wizards, and… I'm sorry to say, Master, but they were killed."
"Killed?" Harry's voice trembled, and tears were openly falling down the child's voice at this point. Kreacher hesitated for a mere second, before reaching his bony arms around the small child and giving him a comforting hug. Harry did not pull away, and pressed his face closer against Kreacher's pillowcase. The child's small body made it easy for Kreacher to reach his arms around him fully and gently pat his back.
"I will tell you a story," Kreacher decided, moving away and sitting down. "It takes place in a secret world, hidden in plain sight, where there are witches and wizards who could create beautiful and unexpected wonders of magic. This world was home to many different kinds of creatures, such as elves, mermaids, dragons, and centaurs, and, of course, witches and wizards. And in this world, was born a special little boy named Harry…"
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