Come gather round and hear the story of a noble elf
Who helped defeat an overlord, although not by himself.
'Twas Kreacher of the House of Black who caused a great commotion
When first he sipped Lord Voldemort's foul Horcrux-guarding potion.
"Do tell!" his human asked him, once he'd left the dreary cave.
"Kreacher lived horrid memories, looked back on times most grave.
When Mistress Elladora came, chased Kreacher with her knife,
And he obeyed though terrified that he might lose his life!"
"Why would Lord Voldemort desire to torture elves this way?
You are no traitor who could fight back-no, you must obey.
Perhaps it's linked to how he boasts of how his force can best
The might of death itself, as if he's conquered in some quest..."
Then Regulus grew somber, and he gave a grim command,
Preparing to spite Voldemort by making a last stand.
But what he had forgotten is that he had often spoken
Of the actions of a "traitor" whose old loyalty had broken.
"That Sirius!" the loyal Blacks would rage. "How dare he run
Around with Muggleborns who spurn the leader that's begun
To purge our world of impure blood? It's just not right.
Fie on the do-good "Order of the Phoenix" and their fight!"
If anyone knew how to dispose of Voldemort's soul,
Thought Kreacher, and would aid him now that it was his first goal,
It would be Master Sirius. So in a moment's crack,
He'd Apparated to the confused outcast of House Black.
"What is this locket? Tell me everything. What are you doing here?"
The story Kreacher relayed brought pain and joy to the ear.
Joy, that his brother had rejected the Death Eaters' lie;
Pain, that he'd been left without hope, resolving to die.
"Your magic's different," Sirius said. "Can't you Apparate
And Side-Along him back to spare him such a dismal fate?"
"I can," said Kreacher skeptically. "Though it's a tricky task."
"Don't get yourself killed," said Sirius, "but...try it. Please. I ask."
The respect in the request, and the power of free will
Did stream and course through Kreacher's veins, threatened to overfill.
Against such magic, no potion or water could have drowned.
Moments later, he returned, with Regulus, on solid ground.
Sirius nearly collapsed too, such was his deep relief.
"My mates will want to hear your story-please come and debrief."
"Your mates are jumped-up hooligans-don't think this makes us friends."
"They may be gits. But maybe there's still time to make amends."
So Regulus related what he'd surmised of the plot,
How Kreacher had transported him to the accursed spot.
"We must destroy this locket," Dumbledore said, "No mean feat;
But surely it will help bring about Voldemort's defeat."
"And as for valiant Kreacher, who did rescue me from doom,
I found some ancient artifacts buried up in my room.
Please take these dirty socks, the remnants of my Quidditch days,
In honor of your service, if you let me coin a phrase."
"I don't want your dirty laundry!" said Kreacher, full of scorn.
"I have served the House of Black with pride since the day I was born!"
"We know," said Sirius. "But if cousin Bellatrix should knock
And order you around, that's no good. Take the filthy sock."
So, grudgingly, Kreacher accepted being a free Being,
And Regulus, his newfound lease on life, which-although freeing-
Was a responsibility he hadn't planned to bear
Much longer. But then again, neither death nor life are fair.
Though this turn of events was not according to their plan,
The Order of the Phoenix thrilled to gain an inside man.
"After all, given the trouble Sirius puts us through,
One Black's a terror. Just imagine what we'll be with two!"