Chapter Three
Hassles With a House-elf
"Is Mad-Eye here?" I asked as I made my way into the dining room for breakfast. I had put the photograph into my pants' pocket without even glancing at it.
There was only the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione in the dim breakfast room. Everyone else had left last night. Nobody was talking as they ate. Every now and then someone would heave a sigh before they took a bite. The scene sent chills down my spine.
"Hmm?" Molly said distractedly. She had one hand on her cheek, and an elbow on the table. Last year, whenever someone had their elbows on the table, Molly would tell them off. She'd say that it was horrid manners and demand them to take their elbow off immediately like a civilized person. Now she didn't care. Percy had disowned them and Sirius was gone. It was as simple as that.
"Mad-Eye, is he here?"
"No," Hermione said as she peeled an orange distractedly. "He left last night."
"Does anyone know when he'll be back?"
"No," Ron said. "I dunno when he'll be black."
Everyone looked up quickly, staring at Ron like he had just said a disgusting swearword. Black ... Sirius. At that point Kreacher came in, muttering to himself as usual.
"How dare the blood traitor brat besmirch the name of Black! And the werewolf, stinking ups the house of my mistress with his half-human filth! Oh, how much disgrace my mistress would have in me. Oh, the shame."
"Get out of here and go to the attic, Kreacher!" Harry suddenly yelled, as he sprang from his chair, causing everyone to jump. Everyone turned his or her gaze from the mad house-elf to Harry.
"Harry," Hermione said tentatively. "Remember what Dumbledore said about Kreacher. It will only make things become worse if you yell at him. Kreacher's like that because of wizards, Harry. Just try to be nice to him."
"It's his fault Sirius is dead!" Harry yelled, smacking his fist against the table. "I'm not going to be all buddy-buddy with him! He killed Sirius, Hermione! It's his fault he's dead and you expect me to be nice to him and treat him like a friend? I don't think so!"
"I didn't mean it like that ..." Hermione began.
"He's the filth he keeps going on about! The only thing he deserves is to have his head up on a plaque like the rest of his ancestors! He deserves to be dead!"
"Harry, calm down!" I said sternly. "Yes, it is mostly Kreacher's fault that Sirius is dead, but really, you need to control yourself. You're not the only one who is upset about Sirius's death, believe me!"
Harry picked up his chair from the floor and sat back down, breathing rapidly; the angry gleam in his eye had vanished. "Sorry," Harry said. "It just isn't fair that..." He stopped in mid-sentence and put his head in his arms.
"Kreacher does not have to take orders from you," Kreacher wheezed. "You are not a Black, thank mistress. The Black's name is already burdened enough with the murderer in it. Thank mistress he is dead."
"Shut up, Kreacher!" I found myself yelling as I bolted from my chair.
"Nor does Kreacher have to take orders from the werewolf. Kreacher does not have to take orders from none of yous. None of yous are family of mistress."
"Kreacher..." I began, determined to keep my voice calm and to speak rationally but unfortunately this attempt was unsuccessful. The house-elf had pushed me too far. I hardly had ever yelled but now I was seething. I hadn't been this angry since Umbridge started her horrible anti-werewolf legislation, making it impossible for me to get a job.
"Kreacher, I forbid you to ever speak ill of Sirius again. If you do, then I will kill you. Do you understand me? Kill you."
"You are not..." Kreacher began to wheeze.
"It doesn't matter that I'm not a Black. That doesn't stop me from killing you."
For the first time Kreacher looked intimidated, even afraid. He scowled at me then left the room, muttering insults under his breath.
"Well, can someone pass me the butter?" I asked as I sat back down, trying to act like nothing had happened. Everyone's mouths were hanging open, shell-shocked at my harsh threat, in disbelief that I had meant it, but I did. I meant it with every part of me.