No matter how often Harry was stepping over the threshold of his new home, he still couldn't get used to that unpleasant, eerie, chilling feeling taking control of him. That house had seen and felt magic - Dark Magic at its best - centuries long, and this magic had left its blood-chilling footprint at each piece of furniture, each décor element, each living or deceased inhabitor of the ancestral home of the Noble House of Black, once one of the richest and most influentous wizarding families of England.
Hermione had tears in her eyes every time they were climbing the creaky, dark stairs, passing the heads of the house-elves mounted on the wall. A couple of days ago, Ron and Harry needed all their diplomacy to prevent her from taking a Wizarding Oath and swearing she'd curse anybody ever mistreating a house elf again into next century. Having fought and won a 15-minute long word-battle with the portrait of Mrs. Black, awoken by Hermione's crying, they managed to convince her to lay down on her bed and summoned a vial of Calming Draught from the seemingly endless supplies of Sirius' Potions cabinet. When she fell asleep, the two boys took several desperate attempts removing the elven heads from the wall, but the Permanent Sticking Charm holding them in place was seemingly interwoven with Elven magic they had no knowledge of. No matter what they tried, they booked no success.
The same went with Mrs. Black's portrait. This was the first thing they'd tried to get rid of, on the very first day the Trio had sought the protection of 12 Grimmauld Place right after the wedding. Whoever had cast the Permanent Sticking Charm keeping the portrait on the wall must have been a truly powerful wizard; none of the counter-charms they knew of were working. Still, Mrs. Black was slowly, but surely, getting on their nerves. Every loud word, step, every time a door was snapped shut would wake her from her painted dream and then she would go on and on with her tirade in her shrieking voice, dripping with acid. After a rather nasty exchange of words Harry lost his temper and gave her an ultimatum: either she'd shut up or get the same treatment Sirius, Andromeda and Nymphadora's portraits on the family tree tapestry had got from her very own hands. This did the trick and apart from some occasional muttering the portrait decided to keep her thoughts to herself. Hermione had conjured a blindfold made of thick black canvas and applied it to the portrait. With a masterfully done "Muffliato" charm she'd finally learned to appreciate they made sure all their conversations – and they'd been having many of them recently – were kept secret.
Kreacher was a different story. The ancient elf could but very reluctantly accept the fact that in his last master's final will he'd been left - together with the house - to a half-blood who, very recently, had been cheeky enough to appear here and take ownership of his inheritance. While the ancient magic binding him to his new master prevented him from causing any bodily harm to Harry or even ignoring any of his direct orders, he chose verbal warfare as more appropriate and was continuously looking for loopholes in Harry's orders which would allow him not to obey those. However, after the first few of Kreacher's small successes Harry had him through and started formulating his commands in a firm voice, carefully, in order to avoid any of those loopholes.
Then, Kreacher went over to psychic warfare. Every now and then a jug filled with ice-cold water would hang in mid-air waiting for Hermione to pass by. A chair would pull back from the table the moment Harry'd take a seat, sending him on the ground. A fully laden plate would mysteriously disappear in front of Ron as he'd take his first bite. And all this time, Kreacher would be around them in the dining room, doing one of his usual chores from a seemingly endless list, mumbling his usual daily litany under his nose about half bloods, Mudbloods and blood-traitors dissecrating the habitat of the Noble House of the Blacks. Finally, something snapped in Harry and he gave Kreacher an ultimatum: either do his job and stop the pestering or he would be presented with clothes. That did the trick and the war ended, although they still were far from friends; Harry doubted if it would ever change or if he'd wanted to change it at all.
Harry emerged from his thoughts, hearing the usual rambling of the house elf greeting them. Then the rambling changed into high-pitch screaming.
"Every day another shame! As if filthy Mudbloods and blood traitors weren't enough, they are bringing along vampires now. The undead! The scum of the Earth! Poor my Mistress! What a shame to the Noble House of the Blacks!" The old house elf went on and on, completely uninterested if anyone heard him, as he was dusting the heads of his ancestors.
Harry was for a short time amusing himself as he was standing there in the corridor, his hands at his sides. However, the elf just couldn't seem to stop, so he decided to lend him a hand.
"That would be enough, Kreacher!" He raised his voice and the elf shut up. Ignoring the glance Hermione'd shot at him, he continued. "Leticia is the friend and guest of the new Master of the Noble House of the Blacks, and in this quality of mine I hereby forbid you to insult, harm or attack her, verbally, physically or any other way. Do I make myself clear?"
"Certainly … Master … " spat the elf and turned away from them, returning back to his dusting, while he went on with his tirade. "The Half-Blood Master commands Kreacher to leave the vampire alone and Kreacher must obey his Master, but Kreacher would prefer to cut the vampire's head and throw her body outside into the sunshine, just to rid Kreacher's home from this filth."
Leticia's eyes were glowing red in the darkness of the corridor but Harry put his hand on her shoulder.
"Kreacher is a character, Leticia. Let's put it this way: he's not quite happy with the recent changes in his status; after having betrayed his last Master, my Godfather, he'd hoped he'd be able to serve another, in his understanding a more worthy member of the House of Black, Bellatrix or Narcissa, but he didn't take into consideration that Sirius had a will. I still don't know every detail of that will, but its's sure as Hell that this house together with Kreacher belongs to me, so he's forced to obey my orders."
"Kreacher is a victim, Harry!" flamed up Hermione. "House elves are a victim of the treaty signed hundreds of years ago which made slaves of them!"
"Hermione, we've been through this. You of all of us should know that that treaty had been initiated by the Queen of the Forest, Maeve herself. Besides, Kreacher is a rotten creature who hated Sirius and effectively killed him. Only it was not his hand to hold the wand and not his mouth to speak the incantation!" Harry argued, feeling the tears collecting in his eyes. Seeing him hurt, seeing the pain on his face, Hermione quickly backed up.
Harry, however, quickly composed himself and drew a sharp breath. "I have to do something I should have done as soon as we came here," he made up his mind. His friends were waiting in expectation what he was going to do.
"Kreacher!" he bellowed with a dangerous spark in his eyes. The ancient elf raised his head. "Kreacher is here to serve the heir of the Noble House of Black," he repeated in a monotonous, clearly lacking any emotion voice.
"Kreacher, I want you to listen very carefully and carve in your memory what I'm going to say," Harry started cautiosly. "From this very moment on, you are freed from any obligations to serve me as your master." He could not miss the insane spark of joy on the face of the elf and mentally slapped himself for being so careless. He could only hope he hadn't done anything irreversible yet, but the elf's smile had quickly been replaced with another emotion. Fear.
"Master Harry, please do not present me with clothes!" Kreacher begged. Normally, Harry couldn't have stayed neutral, but now he knew he had to remain strong, even if his deeds would displease Hermione.
"No, Kreacher, even if you'd been an unloyal servant, I'm not presenting you with clothes," he answered, and indeed, his calculations were right. The features of the elf relaxed a little bit. Harry mentally felt sorry for having to spoil his joy, but nevertheless went on. "However, you are not to serve us anymore. You are forbidden to stay in the same rooms anyone of us is staying in. You are forbidden to spy or eavesdrop on any of us, yourself or by any other means, using magic, portraits, anything and anybody." Going through the conditions once again to see if there could be any loopholes in his order, he nodded. Next step.
"Furthermore, you are strictly forbidden to contact by any means, I repeat, ANY means, anybody from the Dark Lord's followers, anybody sharing his ideas and anybody of their family members, and tell them about anything you see or hear in this house," Harry raised his voice. "I know you've been a loyal servant to the Blacks before," he went on in a softer voice earning an approving nod from Hermione, "so you may continue living in this house you always called your home."
"Thank you for your kindness, Master Harry," answered the elf in a formal tone, while it was clear he'd rather strangle himself. Unfortunately, the ancient magic binding him to his Master was stronger and his Master hadn't spoken the formalwords to finally release him from his service.
"Don't thank me, Kreacher. Thank the Mudblood!" Harry flashed an apologetical smile at Hermione. Ron, however, flushed red and clenched his hands into fist, stepping towards Harry.
"How dare you call her this name? You, of all of us!" he bellowed. Hermione put her hand on his shoulder, immediately calming him. "One day, Ronald, when you grow up, you'll understand. You'll only have to learn to read between the lines." Ron screwed up his face but said nothing, only cast a murderous glare at Harry.
And indeed, the humiliation of the elf couldn't have been more complete. Yet, he received an order and he was obliged to comply.
"Thank you, Miss Hermione, for your kindness to allow me to stay at the Noble House of Black. Now, please allow me to retreat to my room." His tone may have changed but he would have been happy to strangle her with his bare hand. Harry watched the scene with a smile on his face.
"You may go now, Kreacher. However, I must warn you. Should you fail to comply any of the orders you have been given, I swear to my magic you'll meet the wrong end of my wand, even if my soul will burn for it in Hell forever!"
Leticia, who until now remained silently in the background, now stepped forth and said in a low, emotionless voice. "No, Harry, it will be me. My soul is already condemned. Vampire souls are not allowed to enter the Land of the Shadows."
"Why, Leticia?" Hermione, for the first time since their meeting, looked at the girl as if she were just a normal teenager, with a slight trace of sorrow in her eyes.
Leticia made a shooing movement. "Hermione, we'll have plenty of time for talks. I know you are a very intelligent girl and I will be glad to fill you in on vampire-specific things, but not now. Seems like Harry's not finished yet," she added, casting a questioning look at the boy.
Nodding approvingly, Harry closed his eyes, deep in thoughts. "Dobby!" he cried out, completely unexpectedly for the others. The house-elf appeared immediately in front of him with a loud crack.
"Master Harry! Dobby is so happy to see Master Harry!" The joy of the elf was palpable to see the boy as he danced around the four teenagers. "And Miss Granger and Mister Weasley is also with Master Harry! We is so worried when you is disappeared from the..." Harry clapped the mouth of the elf with his hand, raising his other index finger to his lips. Dobby nodded understandingly, then Harry relaxed and took his hand away.
"Dobby, we need your help, " he started in a low voice. The elf nodded vehemently. "Dobby will does anything for Master Harry and his friends … and his new friend," he looked questioningly at Leticia.
"Dobby, this is Leticia, our friend indeed," said Hermione, kneeling down to the elf so that their head were in level and signing Leticia to do the same.
"Miss Leticia is a vampire, but Dobby doesn't mind it because Miss Leticia is a friend of the great Master Harry," acknowledged Dobby and accepted the girl's hand. Suddenly he shuddered as if he was given an electric shock and released the hand, staring at the girl in mere disbelief. The teens were curiously watching the small intermezzo, not really aware of what was happening.
"Miss Leticia did something to Dobby and Dobby's shoulder doesn't hurt anymore!" rejoiced the elf and hugged the girl to himself. Feeling the questioning looks on his back, he turned around.
"When Dobby was still in service of the Malfoys, one day master Lucius received guests. One of them was Miss Bellatrix, who was that day in a particularly bad mood. Dobby was serving wine but Dobby was clumsy and spilled the wine on Miss Bellatrix's new robe. Even if Dobby punished himself immediately for not being a good house-elf, Miss Bellatrix got very angry and hit Dobby with a curse breaking his shoulder and even Dobby's magic couldn't heal it completely," explained the elf. Seeing the tears, mixed with badly disguised anger, in Hermione's eyes, he hastily added, "Don't cry, Miss Hermione. Thanks to Master Harry Dobby is a free elf now and can serve whomever he wants to and it's Dobby's greatest wish to serve the great Harry Potter and his friends!"
Harry knelt down to him and looked into the elf's eyes. "Dobby, I don't want you to serve me. My wish is that you remain a free elf. I want to hire your services paying you a salary, 2 Galleons a week, effective as of now, if you are available." He couldn't say anything more as the elf's ear-deafening cries of joy made it impossible. Suddenly he felt the touch of wet lips on his left cheek and much to his surprise – as he turned his head in that direction – he met the tearstained, but happily smiling face of Hermione.
"Thank you, Harry, for this. You know what it means to me," she whispered into his ear.
"Dobby, now that it's arranged, can you please prepare us some bedrooms to sleep in? Guys, I don't know what you think... Hermione, shall we all take a separate bedroom?" Harry asked, just to ease the moment. The girl thought for a while, then shook her head, sending her gorgeous hair flying around in the air.
"Let's stick with a girls' room and a boy's room, I guess. There are two big bedrooms on the second floor besides each other. There's a door in between them, but I advise you not to get any ideas in your heads," she laughed. "Come on Leticia. Dobby, I'll show you the way." She turned around when she saw that the other girl was unmoving and took her hand. "Come on, I don't bite."
Seeing the comic disbelief in the other three's eyes, she burst into laughter upon realizing what she'd just said. She saw Leticia's features relaxing; first she, then the boys as well joined Hermione in laughter, then the small group of friends took the stairs to the second floor.