Kreacher's Tale

Arthur woke up early the following morning, wrapped in a sleeping bag on the drawing room floor.

He saw that daylight was visible from between the heavy curtains: a cool, clear blue of watered ink, somewhere between night and dawn.

Everything was quiet except for the slow and deep breathing from Mike, David and Chrys.

Arthur glanced over to their dark forms on the floor beside him.

He was able to see that David and Chrys had their hands grazing each other. It made him wonder when they'll finally put a bow on their relationship.

Arthur then looked up at the shadowy ceiling and the cobwebbed chandelier, feeling Mike curl up next to him. Only less than twenty four hours ago, he stood in the sunlight at the entrance to the marquee, waiting to show wedding guests their seats. It now felt like a lifetime ago. And he was concerned for both Fawkes and Athena, remembering that he left them back at Merlon Manor.

What was he going to do now? Simple: he was just going to go hand find the Horcruxes, a daunting and complex mission that Dumbledore left -

Dumbledore….

The grief that still lingered since Dumbledore's death was still the same, just with a longing to know more. Those accusations from Edna at the wedding just couldn't be true, especially with how Dumbledore acted when his brother accused him and punched his nose.

He knew that Skeeter skewed the truth, even if there's some accuracy. And the more he thought about it, maybe he never told Arthur about his life, especially about living in Godric's Hollow because thinking about what happened was just too much for him.

Arthur really hoped that was the case.

Now feeling like he can't keep still with all these thoughts, he slipped out of his sleeping bag and picked up his wand before creeping out of the room.

On the landing, he whispered "Lumos" and climbed up the stairs in the wandlight.

When he reached the second landing, he came across the bedroom that he, Mike and David slept in the last time they were here. He even glanced into it.

The wardrobe doors were open and the bedclothes were ripped back. This made Arthur remember the overturned troll leg downstairs. There was no doubt that someone searched this house. Whether it was Snape or Mundungus, since he did pilfer this place plenty to sell things.

His gaze lingered to the portrait that sometimes had Phineas Nigellus Black fill in. The great great grandfather to Sirius, whose portrait was currently empty, only showing a stretch of muddy backdrop. He was clearly spending the night in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts.

Arthur continued up the staircase until he finally reached the topmost landing where he saw only two doors. The one that faced him had the nameplate of Sirius on it. Arthur had never entered his godfather's room before.

He slowly pushed the door open as he held his wand high to cast light as wide as possible.

The room was spacious and had to have once looked handsome. There was a large bed with a carved wooden headboard, a tall window that was obscured by long velvet curtains and a chandelier that was covered in a thick layer of dust with candle stubs resting in its sockets, solid wax hanging in frost-like drips.

A film of dust covered the various pictures on the walls and the bed's headboard; a spider's web stretched between the chandelier and the top of the wooden wardrobe.

As Arthur moved deeper into the room, he heard the scurrying of disturbed mice.

The teenaged Sirius plastered the walls with many posters and pictures to the point that little of the wall's silvery grey silk was visible. They must've been placed on the wall with the Permanent Sticking Charm, no doubt as a way to spite his parents. There were several large Gryffindor banners, faded scarlet and gold, a way to further underline the difference from the rest of the Slytherin family.

There were also many pictures of Muggle motorbikes, as well as, Arthur admiring Sirius' nerve, several posters of bikini clad Muggle girls, which he knew because the images were stationary and didn't move with faded smiles and glazed eyes frozen on paper.

This was naturally a contrast to the only wizarding photograph on the walls, a picture of four Hogwarts students standing arm in arm, laughing at the camera.

With a jolt of pleasure, Arthur instantly recognised his father with his untidy black that stuck up at the back, just like Arthurs. Beside him to his right was Sirius, carelessly handsome with his slightly arrogant face being so much younger and happier than Arthur had ever seen. To his right was Pettigrew, more than head shorter, plump and watery eyed, flushed with pleasure that he was included in this cool group. On John's left was Lupin, who looked a little shabby, but had the air of delighted surprise at being liked and included.

Arthur wished he could take this picture off the wall, but he knew it wasn't likely.

He decided to look around at the floor. The sky outside was now growing brighter with a shaft of light revealing bits of paper, books and small objects that were scattered over the carpet.

It would seem Sirius' room was also searched, though its contents seemed to have been judged as though they're mostly worthless. A few of the books were shaken roughly enough to part from their covers with sundry pages littered all over the floor.

Arthur bent down to pick up some of these pieces of paper and examine them. He recognised one of them being from an old edition of A History of Magic from Bathilda Bagshot, another belonged to a motorbike maintenance manual.

Then there was the third, which was a handwritten and crumpled letter, which he smoothed out to read:

Dear Padfoot,

Thank you so much for Arthur's birthday present! It is easily his favourite by far. Only one year old and he's already zooming around on a toy broomstick, he was in so much joy. I'm enclosing a picture for you to see. You know it only rises two feet off the ground, but he nearly rammed into our cat and he already smashed the vase that Patty sent me for Christmas, which I repaired, knowing she'd be upset if she learned what happened. Of course, John thought it was so funny. He said that Arthur will be a natural Quidditch player, but we've had to put away all ornaments and make sure we don't take our eyes off him when he zooms around.

It was a very quiet birthday tea, only us and dear Bathilda, who has been nothing but sweet to us and dotes on Arthur. We were so sorry we couldn't come, but the Order has to come first and Arthur isn't old enough to know that it's his birthday anyway! John is starting to get frustrated being holed up here, he tries to hide it, but I know. Not to mention the fact that Dumbledore still has his Invisibility Cloak, so he has no chance of excursions. I wish you could visit, just to cheer him up. Wormy was here last weekend. He seemed down, probably because of the news about the McKinnons; I cried all evening when I heard.

Bathilda drops in most of the time, she's truly fascinating with the most amazing stories about Dumbledore. I'm sure he wouldn't be pleased if he knew! I don't know how he was able to live with what he went through and the fact that he

Arthur's whole body went numb, standing still and holding the paper in his nerveless fingers while an eruption of joy and grief exploded all at once through his veins, making him sit down on the bed.

He read the letter over and over, not because he was trying to find more meaning in what was written, but to simply look at his mother's handwriting. She made her t's and h's the same way he did. He read the letter again, searching for them, each one feeling like a friendly wave. This was actual proof that Rose Pendergast actually lived, that her warm and soft hand moved across this parchment, tracing ink to form letters into words, words about him, Arthur, her son.

Feeling his throat burn as he cried and sobbed all at once, he brushed his tears away to reread the letter, now truly concentrating on the meaning. It was like listening to a half remembered voice.

They actually had a cat. Maybe it ran away or perished at Godric's Hollow. Sirius had bought him his first ever broomstick. His parents actually knew Bathilda Bagshot, whether it was because Dumbledore introduced them or because they were simply neighbours.

What struck him as odd was when his mother wrote Dumbledore still has his Invisibility Cloak. Why would he still have it, for however long he had it? Was it to examine it or something? He knew it wasn't because he needed it, because he distinctly remembered him saying in his first year "I don't need a cloak to become invisible".

Wormy was here… Pettigrew, the traitor. Seeming 'down' was no doubt because he was about to betray them to Voldemort and that this would be the last time he'd see them alive.

And there was Bathilda, having told stories about Dumbledore: I don't know how he was able to live with what he went through and the fact that he -

That he what? There's all kinds of things that would be shocking about Dumbledore. Heck, Arthur wouldn't be shocked if he actually knew Grindelwald personally and maybe even be lovers before falling out. Especially with the mention and hint of him having gone through something that would've broken most.

Arthur decided to get to his feet and scan the floor to see if the rest of the letter was elsewhere.

He seized papers, treating them with little consideration with his anxiousness like the original searcher. He even pulled open drawers, shook out books and stood on a chair to run his hand on the top of the wardrobe, as well as crawl under the bed and armchair.

Eventually, he found something torn, lying face down on the floor under the chest of drawers. He pulled it out and found that it was most of the photograph that Rose described in her letter. In it was a black haired boy zooming in and out of the picture on a tiny broom, roaring with laughter with a pair of legs chasing after him, belonging to John.

Arthur tucked it away into his pocket with the letter as he continued searching for a second sheet.

But after a quarter of an hour, he concluded that it and the remainder of the picture was gone. No doubt because of someone who searched in this room. Not Mundungus, he wouldn't care for something like this. Instead, his mind went to Snape, and he growled venomously. What right did he have for taking the remainder of the letter and the picture, which no doubt had Rose in it. He didn't deserve them, especially since he called her a Mudblood.

"Arthur? Where are you?"

"I'm up here!" Arthur called back to Mike's voice.

He heard a clatter of footsteps outside the door and Mike burst in.

"Arthur! We woke up and didn't know where you were!" He said before he turned and shouted over his shoulder "Guys! He's up here!"

"Can you please kick his ass for us?" David's annoyed voice echoed distantly from several floors below.

"Arthur, please don't just disappear like that again!" Mike begged as he joined his side. "Why did you even come up here?" He gazed around the ransacked room.

"Look." Arthur said as he held out his mother's letter. Mike took it and read it for a while. When he reached the end of the page, he looked back up at Arthur with a look of sympathy and heartache.

"Oh, Arthur…." He said before hugging him and kissed his cheek to comfort him.

"And there's this." Arthur said as they parted and handed him the torn photograph. Mike smiled at the baby that zoomed in out of sight on the toy broom.

"I've been looking for the rest of the letter and the photo." Arthur said. "But they're gone."

Mike glanced around.

"Someone searched in here, didn't they?" He asked.

"Yeah, I'm thinking Snape searched in here and took the rest of the letter and the photo." Arthur snarled, making Mike frown.

"Greasy git." He spat. "Of course, every other room we've searched has been disturbed, we think it was Mundungus."

"I agree." Arthur replied. "Though there's still a chance it was Snape, as a way to find information on the Order, or Dumbledore because the second page of the letter was gone. You know Bathilda Bagshot?"

"The author and historian? Yeah." Mike nodded.

"Well, my parents knew her, based on the letter. She still lives in Godric's Hollow. Edna talked about her at the wedding. Bathilda knew the Dumbledore family." Arthur said as he took the letter and photograph back and tucked them into the pouch around his neck.

He then told Mike about what Edna said about Dumbledore and Bathilda, as well as his ideas about what might've been the case.

"Yeah…" Mike nodded. "Skeeter and Edna are no doubt thinking it was one thing when it just may be something else entirely."

"Do you think the truth could be in the diary he left you?" Arthur asked.

"Perhaps, but until we can make a guess about what year was significant for him, we won't know." Mike groaned.

"Come on, let's go down to the kitchen and see if there's anything for breakfast." Arthur suggested after a pause.

The two left the room and were out on the landing, walking past the second door that led off it. There were deep scratch marks in the paintwork below a small sign he didn't notice in the dark. He actually paused at the top of the stairs to read it, seeing that it was a pompous, little sign that was neatly lettered by hand.

Do Not Enter

Without the Express Permission of

Regulus Arcturus Black

Arthur's eyes widened as shock and realisation came over him.

"Oh my God!" He even said aloud, which made Mike turn and be right at his side.

"What's wrong?"

"I thought R.A.B. was familiar. Look!" Arthur said, pointing at the sign.

Mike read it and his eyes widened as well.

"Sirius told me he was a Death Eater, how he joined up when he was young and that he got cold feet and tried to leave." Arthur said.

"He must've been so disenchanted by working for Riddle that he tried to bring him down. He must've realised he made at least one Horcrux!" Mike said.

"And… the actual Horcrux was here! We actually held it in our hands when we cleaned the place up! I forgot about it while helping Dumbledore find it in the cave!" Arthur said, slapping his forehead, feeling incredibly stupid.

"GUYS, GET UP HERE!" Mike called for David and Chrys as he leaned over the bannister.

The two appeared, panting, a minute later, wands in their hands.

"What is it?" Chrys asked.

Arthur pointed at the sign on the door, which the two read.

"No way. It was Sirius' younger brother the entire time? No wonder we felt like we heard of R.A.B.!" David said.

"And we held the actual Horcrux in our hands before fifth year. We didn't realise we were holding Slytherin's locket." Arthur then dropped the other bombshell on them, making them gasp.

"Well, let's start looking for it, then." Chrys said before she pointed her wand at the door handle, saying "Alohomora."

There was a click and then the door swung open.

They all moved over the threshold at once, gazing around.

Regulus' room was slightly smaller than Sirius', even though it did have the same sense of grandeur. And while Sirius was vocal of his difference from the rest of the family, Regulus was clearly vocal about his continuing the family tradition. The Slytherin colours of emerald and silver were everywhere, draping the bed, walls and windows. And the Black family crest was painstakingly painted over the bed, including its motto, Toujours Pur. Beneath it was a collection of yellow newspaper cuttings, all of which were stuck together to make a collage. Chrys decided to examine them.

"They're all about Riddle." She said. "It would seem that Regulus was a fan for a few years before joining the Death Eaters."

A puff of dust rose from the bedcovers as she sat to read the various clippings.

Arthur noticed another photograph, one of a Hogwarts Quidditch team smiling and waving out of the frame. He moved closer to see the snakes emblazoned on their chests: Slytherins.

Arthur was able to see which one was Regulus as he sat in the middle of the front row, having the same dark hair and slightly haughty look of his brother, just smaller, slighter and not as handsome as Sirius.

"He was a Seeker." He said aloud.

"What?" Mike said as he and David joined him, looking at the photograph as well.

"He's sitting in the middle of the front row, where the Seeker sits." Arthur said, pointing at him.

Moving on, David started looking under the wardrobe on his hands and knees, Mike looked under the bed and Arthur looked around the room for other likely hiding places before approaching the desk. It looked like someone searched this room as well.

The drawers' contents were turned over recently, the clue being that the dust had been disturbed and nothing of value was in them: old quills, out of date textbooks that were roughly handled, a recently smashed ink bottle with its sticky residue covering the contents of the drawer.

"There's an easier way." Chrys said as Arthur wiped his hands on the walls. She raised her wand and said "Accio locket."

Nothing happened. David and Mike both sighed through their noses.

"It's not here?" David said.

"Maybe counter enchantments were placed on it, like the fake in the stone basin in the cave." Arthur pointed out.

"Then it looks like we'll have to keep finding it the old fashioned way." Mike said.

The four combed through every single inch of the room for over an hour, yet it wasn't there by the end of it.

The sun had now fully risen with its light dazzling them through the grimy landing windows.

"We held it in the drawing room." Arthur said as they walked back downstairs, remembering what happened. "And even though we threw it away, Kreacher would've nicked it among many other things. He kept his stash in his cupboard in the kitchen. Let's go."

Arthur led the way, going down two steps at a time, the other three thundering along in his wake. They made so much noise that they ended up waking the portrait of Sirius' mother as they passed through the hall.

"Filth! Mudbloods! Scum!" She screamed after them as they dashed into the basement kitchen, slamming the door behind them.

Arthur ran the length of the room, skidding to a halt at the door of Kreacher's cupboard and wrenched it open.

There was the nest of dirty, old blankets that the house elf once slept in, but they were no longer glittering with the trinkets that Kreacher salvaged. All there was was an old copy of Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy. Arthur snatched up the blankets and shook them, all that fell out was a dead mouse, rolling dismally across the floor, making David and Mike groan and retch and Chrys to close her eyes.

"Fungus." Arthur snarled, knowing it was him, but he decided he should hear what Kreacher had to say about it, just in case. "KREACHER!"

With a loud crack, the house elf that Arthur reluctantly inherited from Sirius appeared out of nowhere in front of the cold and empty fireplace.

He was a tiny, half human sized being with pale skin hanging off him in folds, white hair sprouting copiously from his bat-like ears. He still wore the filthy rag in which they first met him, and the contemptuous look he made upon Arthur showed he still felt the same as he did since his change of ownership.

"Master…" He croaked in his bullfrog's voice, bowing low, muttering to his knees "...back in my mistress' old house with the blood traitors McGonagall and Merlon and the Mudblood -"

"I forbid you from calling anyone 'blood traitor' or 'Mudblood'." Arthur growled in contempt. He was simply an unloveable object with his snout-like nose and bloodshot eyes, even excluding the fact he betrayed Sirirus to Voldemort.

"I have something to ask you." Arthur said. "And you are to answer any questions me and the others have truthfully, understood?"

"Yes, Master." Kreacher said, bowing low again. His lips were moving soundless, now doubt framing insults that he was forbidden to utter.

"Two years ago, there was a big gold locked with a bejewelled S on it in the drawing room upstairs. We threw it out, but you stole it back, didn't you?"

There was a moment's silence, where Kreacher straightened to look Arthur full in the face.

"Yes." He said.

"And what happened to it?" Arthur asked, which made Kreacher close his eyes, like he couldn't bear to see everyone's reactions to his next word.

"Gone."

"Who stole it?" Arthur asked, needing the confirmation.

Kreacher shivered and swayed.

"ANSWER ME!"

"Mundungus Fletcher." Kreacher croaked, his eyes still tight shut. "Mundungus Fletcher stole it all: Miss Bella and Miss Cissy's pictures, my mistress' gloves, the Order of Merlin, First Class, the goblets with the family crest, and, and -"

Kreacher gulped for air: his hollow chest rising and falling rapidly before his eyes flew open and uttered a blood curdling scream.

" - and the locket, Master Regulus' locket, Kreacher did wrong, Kreacher failed in his orders!"

Arthur reacted instinctively because Kreacher lunged for the poker standing in the grate. He launched himself on the elf, flattening him on the floor.

Kreacher screamed, but Arthur loudly "I ORDER YOU TO STAY STILL!"

The elf froze and so Arthur released him. Kreacher lay flat on the cold stone floor, tears gushing from his sagging eyes.

"Let him up, Arthur" Chrys said.

"No, he'll just beat himself up with the poke." Arthur snorted, kneeling beside the elf. "Kreacher, tell us what happened. How did you know Mundungus Fletcher stole the locket?"

"Kreacher saw him!" The elf gasped, tears pouring over his snout and into his mouth full of greying teeth. "Kreacher saw him coming out of Kreacher's cupboard with his hands full of Kreacher's treasures. Kreacher told the sneakthief to stop, but Mundungus Fletcher laughed and r-ran…."

"You called the locket 'Master Regulus''" Arthur said. "Why? What did Regulus have to do with it? Kreacher, sit up and tell us everything about the locket and what Regulus had to do with it."

The elf sat up, curled into a ball, placing his wet face between his knees, rocking back and forth. When he spoke, his voice was muffled by still distinch in the silent, echoing kitchen.

"Master Sirius ran away, good riddance, for he was a bad boy and broke my mistress' heart with his lawless ways. But Master Regulus had proper pride; he knew what was due to the name of Black and the dignity of his pure blood. For years he talked of the Dark Lord, who was going to bring the wizards out of hiding to rule the Muggles and the Muggle-Borns… and when he was sixteen years old, Master Regulus joined the Dark Lord. So proud, so proud, so happy to serve…. And one day, a year after he had joined, Master Regulus came down to the kitchen to see Kreacher. Master Regulus always liked Kreacher. And Master Regulus said… he said…" The old elf rocked faster than before. "...he said that the Dark Lord required an elf."

"He needed an elf?" Arthur repeated as he looked round at Mike, David and Chrys, all of whom were just as puzzled as he was.

"Oh yes." Kreacher moaned. "And Master Regulus had volunteered Kreacher. It was an honour, said Master Regulus, an honour for him and for Kreacher, who must be sure to do whatever the Dark Lord ordered him to do… and then to c-come home."

Kreacher rocked faster still, his breath coming in sobs.

"So Kreacher went to the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord did not tell Kreacher what they were to do, but took Kreacher with him to a cave beside the sea. And beyond the cave there was a cavern, and in the cavern was a great, black lake…."

Arthur's hairs on his neck stood. He had an idea of where this was going.

"...there was a boat…"

This was something Arthur knew, a ghostly green and tiny boa bewitched to only carry one wizard, one victim to the island in the centre. This must've been how Voldemort tested the defences surrounding the Horcrux: by borrowing, in his eyes and belief, a disposable creature.

"There was a b-basin full of potion on the island. The D-Dark Lord made Kreacher drink it…."

He quaked from head to foot.

"Kreacher drank, and as he drank, he saw terrible things… Kreacher's insides burned… Kreacher cried for Master Regulus to save him, he cried for his Mistress Black, but the Dark Lord only laughed… he made Kreacher drink all the potion… he dropped a locket into the empty basin… he filled it with more potion. And then the Dark Lord sailed away, leaving Kreacher on the island…."

Arthur was disgusted. He imagined Voldemort's white, snake-like face vanishing into the darkness with his red eyes fixed pitilessly on the thrashing elf whose death would occur soon, succumbing to the desperate need for water that the potion caused its victim. Yet he had a good idea of how Kreacher got away.

"Kreacher needed water, he crawled to the island's edge and he drank from the black ake… and hands, dead hands, came out of the water and dragged Kreacher under the surface…."

"How did you get away?" Arthur asked.

Kreacher raised his ugly head, looking at Arthur with his great, bloodshot eyes.

"Master Regulus told Kreacher to come back." He said.

"And so you Disapparated back to him." Arthur replied knowingly.

"Of course!" Mike said. "Elf magic isn't like human magic!"

"Exactly, they can Apparate and Disapparate in and out of Hogwarts." Chrys said.

"And he would've considered the ways of house elves so beneath him, like all pure-bloods who treat them like animals. He would never bother realising how they have magic he didn't." David said.

"The house elf's highest law is his master's bidding." Kreacher intoned. "Kreacher was told to come home, so Kreacker came home…."

"What happened when you made it back? What did Regulus say when you told him what happened?" Arthur asked.

"Master Regulus was very worried, very worried. Master Regulus told Kreacher to stay hidden, and not to leave the house. And then… it was a little while later… Master Regulus came to find Kreacher in his cupboard one night, and Master Regulus was strange, not as he usually was, disturbed in his mind, Kreacher could tell… and he asked Kreacher to take him to the cave, the cave where Kreacher had gone with the Dark Lord…."

Arthur knew what was coming and he was actually dreading what he was going to hear, knowing that Regulus was trying to take down Voldemort, willingly risking his life to do so. Kreacher knew how to open the concealed doorway to the cavern, how to raise the boat, with his beloved master sailing him to the island with the basin of poison.

"He drank the potion, didn't he?" He asked, making Chrys' leap to her mouth.

"M-Master Regulus took from his pocket a locket like the one the Dark Lord had." Kreacher said with tears pouring down either side of his snout-like nose. "And he told Kreacher to take it and, when the basin was empty, to switch the lockets…."

Kreacher's sobs were now in great rasps, making Arthur concentrate to understand him.

"And he ordered - Kreacher to leave - without him. And he told Kreacher - to go home - and never tell my mistress - what he had done - but to destroy - the first locket. And he drank - all the potion - and Kreacher swapped the lockets - and watched… as Master Regulus… was dragged beneath the water… and…."

Chrys gasped right as Kreacher started punishing himself by falling to the ground and bang his forehead on the floor.

"Stop!" Arthur shouted. "KREACHER, STOP!"

The elf lay on the floor, panting and shivering with green mucus glistening around his snout, a bruise blooming on his forehead where he had struck himself, his eyes swollen and bloodshot, swimming in tears. Never had Arthur seen a more pitiful sight.

"So you brought the locket back home." He said, needing to hear the rest of the story. "Did you try to destroy it, like he asked you to?"

"Nothing Kreacher did made any mark upon it." Kreacher moaned. "Kreacher tried everything, everything he knew, but nothing, nothing would work… so many powerful spells upon the casing, Kreacher was sure the way to destroy it was to get inside it, but it would not open… Kreacher punished himself, he tried again, he punished himself, he tried again. Kreacher failed to obey orders, Kreacher could not destroy the locket! And his mistress was mad with grief, because Master Regulus had disappeared, and Kreacher could not tell her what had happened, no, because Master Regulus had f-f-forbidden him to tell any of the f-f-family what happened in the c-cave…."

Kreacher started sobbing so hard that there were no more coherent words. Chrys' eyes started glistening with tears, David looked utterly troubled and Mike looked horror-struck. Arthur sat back, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I just don't understand you, Kreacher." He said. "The Dark Lord tried to kill you, Regulus died to take him down, yet you were perfectly happy to betray Sirius to the Dark Lord? You were happy to go to Narcissa and Bellatrix, to pass information to the Dark Lord through them…."

"He doesn't think like that." Chrys said as she wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "He's a slave to the Black family. And house elves are used to bad, even brutal treatment; what the Dark Lord did to Kreacher wasn't that far from the common way. Kreacher was simply loyal to the people that were kind to him. No doubt Mrs Black was, and Regulus was for sure, so he served them willingly and parroted their beliefs. Regulus may have changed his mind, but he must've not explained that to Kreacher. And it was because Kreacher and the Black family were safer if they kept up the old pure-blood line. Regulus was just trying to protect them."

"Sirius -"

"Was horrible to Kreacher, Arthur, you must understand that. Kreacher had been alone for so long when Sirius came to live here, he was most likely starved for a bit of affection, which he got from 'Miss Cissy' and 'Miss Bella' when he turned up, doing them a favour by telling them what they wanted to know. Ultimately, wizards have to pay for how they treat house elves. Which the Dark Lord did… as well as Sirius."

Arthur knew that she was right, and he hated that fact, especially because of Sirius. He kept watching Kreacher sobbing on the floor, which helped him remember what Dumbledore said hours after Sirius' death: I do not think Sirius ever saw Kreacher as a being with feelings as acute as a human's….

"Kreacher…" He said after a while of him in silence. "...when you can, could you please sit up?"

It took several minutes until Kreacher hiccoughed himself into silence. He then pushed himself into a sitting position again, rubbing his knuckles into his eyes like a small child would.

"Kreacher, I'm going to ask you to do something." Arthur said, deciding to give the order in a kind manner. "I want you to please find Mundungus Fletcher. We need to find out where Master Regulus' locket is. We want to finish what he started, to make sure he didn't die in vain."

Kreacher dropped his fists and looked at Arthur.

"Find Mundungus Fletcher?" He croaked.

"And to bring him back here, to Grimmauld Place. Can you do that for us?"

Kreacher nodded and got to his feet, which gave Arthur a bit of inspiration.

He pulled out Hagrid's purse and grabbed the fake Horcrux, the very substitute that Regulus placed the note to Voldemort.

"Kreacher, I'd like you to have this." He said as he pressed the locket into the elf's hand. "It belonged to Regulus. I'm sure he'd want you to have it as a token of gratitude for what you did"

The elf took one look at the locket before he let out a howl of shock and misery before throwing himself back onto the ground.

It took the four of them nearly half an hour to calm Kreacher down, who was so overcome by being presented with a Black family heirloom for his very own that he was too weak at the knees to support himself and stand property.

When he finally was able to totter a few steps, they accompanied him to his cupboard, watched him tuck the locket up safely in his dirty blankets and promised him that they'd protect it while he was away.

He then made three low bows to Arthur, Mike and David before giving a funny little spasm in Chrys' direction which was his attempt at a respectful salute, before Disapparating with the usual loud crack.

Kreacher's Tale has to be one of the best parts of the whole series. To learn that Regulus tried to take down Voldemort when everyone else thought he was a coward is just incredible. Let's hope the new show adapts this fully to give Regulus a time in the spotlight.