div style="mso-element: para-border-div; border-top: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-right: none; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; padding: 1.0pt 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;"
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; border: none; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; padding: 0cm; mso-padding-alt: 1.0pt 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;" align="center"span lang="EN-US"Chapter 15. Grim old reality/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; padding: 0cm; mso-padding-alt: 1.0pt 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;"span lang="EN-US"Number 12 Grimmauld place, June 30supth/sup 1995/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; padding: 0cm; mso-padding-alt: 1.0pt 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;"span lang="EN-US"Marcus Longhurst was furious. Again. For six days straight. This time it had nothing to do with nosy journalists or incompetent authority figures. Actually, the former by the name of Rita Skeeter had been fired from the Prophet months ago and worked as a shop assistant in Flourish and blots, while the latter named Albus Dumbledor kept out of the time traveller's way more than humanly possible, so not to be blamed for not protecting Harry Potter once again. No, this time things were much, muchmore serious, no pun intended. Goldcrest perch was Marcus' home no more./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; padding: 0cm; mso-padding-alt: 1.0pt 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;"span lang="EN-US"How it happened? Regulus Black sold his house to who appeared to be Marcus' father, with a haste unheard of in such deals. This meant very rushed packing and moving out a mere day after Harry returned. In truth, Regulus had been tidying the house up since the beginning ofJune, stuffing the most precious and dangerous items such as his falcon cups and lion chairs into expanded trunks, but no one suspected a thing until Arno Longhurst came calling, Anna Maria Fletcher by his side. Slamming a bunch of official-looking papers on the last remaining desk not yet packed away, the wizard gave Regulus a week to leave the house, also demanding the floo address be changed from Cliff hole (Goldcrest perch was its unofficial name known only to the select few) to Longhurst keep, effective immediately. The handsome sum of twenty thousand galleons changed accounts in Gringats the next day (and where did that uagadou dropout, from what Marcus could recall, find so much money?) making the place change owners too. The reactions to this were as varied as it could be – Marcus cursed, Regulus wept, Alexa kept switching from fear to sadness, Hermes looked around his birth home with longing, but everyone pittied Harry, who would be forced to cope with nightmare scarier than the Dursleys, at least until the new place they were all going was made livable. Even though Marcus tried to delay the inevitable as much as possible, the day had come too fast for his comfort. This was how the strange company of five found themselves at the doorstep of number 12 Grimmauld place five days after the end of school term, the assortment of trunks, backpacks and bags by their feet./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; padding: 0cm; mso-padding-alt: 1.0pt 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;"span lang="EN-US"The house appeared abandoned for years, even from outside: the bricks were more dirty pink than red, being exposed to the elements for god knows how long without repainting; crums of mortar and bits of wood lay scattered around; grime and dust covered the windows, through which a single flickering light shone, the only sign of life inside. For a good ten minutes no one moved, too afraid or lost in their less than pleasant memories to knock or unlock the door. Finally, with a heavy sigh as if entering a deathtrap, Regulus pulled a rusty key out of his jacket pocket and let everyone in. "home sweet home" – he murmered more to the dilapidated entryway than himself, voice bitter with irony. A century-old oil lamp flickered to life on its own, illuminating a threadbare carpet hidden under a layer of dirt and dust, pealing wallpaper and a couple discolored paintings in splintered frames. Even worse was the smell – a mix of stale air, mould and something even more disgusting forced everyone to remember bubblehead charms immediately after stepping through the door. No one dared putting their luggage on the floor, rather pulling their wands out and levitating everything in front of them. Naturally, Alexa and Hermes were less than satisfied with their new home, the former voicing her opinion in rapid Elven, while the latter tried using his newly learned cleaning spell, when suddenly a pop more like a canonblast than elf aperition sounded from nowhere. An old house elf clad in greasy pillowcase, hunched and pale as paper, appeared, insane glint in his sunken eyes. He threw a dirty look at the new arrivals and started screetching, voice reminiscent of a mad frog:/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; padding: 0cm; mso-padding-alt: 1.0pt 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;"span lang="EN-US""master Regulus is back! But master Regulus brings filth in master's house! what be Kreacher's mystress be saying, oh poor mystress…" he stopped suddenly, glanced at Marcus and screamed with new rage: "how dare master Regulus bring imposter into my mystress' house! yous look like blood traitor master Sirius but yous is not! Out! All out!" he snapped his fingers; the door flew open, a sudden gust of wind raising clouds of dust. Another snap would have thrown the two wizards and elves out and into the street, if not for Alexa's quick reaction. In no time, Kreacher found himself petrified on the floor, bound and silenced, while humans tried to regain their barings. "don't stand like goats in headlamps!" she nudged each wizard in the knee, all the while observing the insane elf's prone form. "sorry about this, but I can't let you hurt my master, can I?"/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; padding: 0cm; mso-padding-alt: 1.0pt 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;"span lang="EN-US"-/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; padding: 0cm; mso-padding-alt: 1.0pt 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;"span lang="EN-US""what on earth is wrong with that elf?" – Harry was first to recover, voicing the only question everyone was seeking the answer for. The strange company had unpacked some of their smaller things, and were now sitting in the somehow cleaner than expected kitchen. Kreacher lay sprawled on the floor with elven cushioning charm, while Alexa ran some scans over him. "oh great many things", the creature paused in her work to look Harry in the eye, "blood bond to a dead person, incomplete or broken word bond to Regulus here, dark artifact influence, loneliness, badly healed head injury and remnaants of some nasty potions. With this lot he would have been already dead, if not for some task he feels obliged to complete." Regulus, so calm and concentrated til then, suddenly sprung from the chair with a thunderous expression. "I'm so going to have a word with my dear mother! What have you done this time?!" he stormed out and upstairs, ignoring Alexa's pleading to find Hermes for protection. Only when demonic screetching of a woman filled the house, did he realise how he needed someone capable of a good silencing charm. Walberga Black's portrait, despite of recognizing only two of her children (Regulus and Bellatrix) as worthy, unleashed a storm upon seeing him: "how dare you return to my house?! ten years, ten damn years and not a single word from you turncoat! Go away traitor, and take your filthy friends with you! Kreacher! Throw the trash out!" the petrified elf stirred, but Alexa was quick to reapply the spell. "Kreacher! Obey, or your head will join your ancestors on the wall…" the insults stopped abruptly, followed by Hermes appearing from nowhere withspan style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanmischievous grin on his face. Moments later, Regulus skipped down, two stairs at a time. without warning, he grabbed the little elf in a bearhug. "thank you, thank you thrice for silencing that howler! I dont remember my father ever having guests since she died. I know it's blasthemous insulting dead people, but she got worse as a painting than being alive. Add that insane elf, and no one wanted to even glance to our side of the street. thank you." "you're welcome – squeaked the elf, too shy to lift his head and meet his mother's proud smile. Kreacher stirred again but was calmed down with another petrification spell. Drawing her attention away from Hermes, Alexa resumed the task way more important than silencing a painting. The results of her scans showed the same miserable image of abused, lonely creature too old for his age, with numerous badly healed injuries and influence of dark artifacts and potions. "worse than Winky" – the creature mumbled to herself, trying to make a plan of how to rescue one of her kind. "will take some time til its safe to release him. For now he needs a patronus cleansing, and I think the house will need that too. A few helath potions after that, and your little friend" – she winked at Regulus, "will be right as rain." The wizard chuckled, but a sudden thought swept his laughter away: "patronus cleansing? Is it that bad? Walberga was insane, no doubt, but… I mean, I left the place just after she died, but Kreacher was responsible for it, for Merlin's sake!" now was Marcus' turn to chuckle, recalling Sirius' memory of some interactions with the most skilled lier in his family – his mother's beloved elf. Alexa resorted to shaking her head and throwing seemingly absentminded comment: "yes, very responsible indeed. I can feel at least three doxey colonies, two boggarts and a poffle of fanged puffscanes upstairs, as well as several dark artifacts on this floor. So, if you don't want to experience the harsh reality of living in the horror house, better sleep in here for now. I'll keep Kreacher petrified until tomorrow, so fear not of being thrown out in the middle of night." Her words somewhat calmed everyone, even if they meant sleeping on conjured beds in the kitchen or entrance hall for no one knew how long. Even if it made Marcus even more furious, Regulus confused, Harry longing for previous summer, and Hermes outright terrified./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; padding: 0cm; mso-padding-alt: 1.0pt 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;"span lang="EN-US"That was how the strange company of five started their Grimmauld reality style summer./span/p
/div
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; border: none; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; padding: 0cm; mso-padding-alt: 1.0pt 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;" align="center"span lang="EN-US"Chapter 15. Grim old reality/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; padding: 0cm; mso-padding-alt: 1.0pt 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;"span lang="EN-US"Number 12 Grimmauld place, June 30supth/sup 1995/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; padding: 0cm; mso-padding-alt: 1.0pt 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;"span lang="EN-US"Marcus Longhurst was furious. Again. For six days straight. This time it had nothing to do with nosy journalists or incompetent authority figures. Actually, the former by the name of Rita Skeeter had been fired from the Prophet months ago and worked as a shop assistant in Flourish and blots, while the latter named Albus Dumbledor kept out of the time traveller's way more than humanly possible, so not to be blamed for not protecting Harry Potter once again. No, this time things were much, muchmore serious, no pun intended. Goldcrest perch was Marcus' home no more./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; padding: 0cm; mso-padding-alt: 1.0pt 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;"span lang="EN-US"How it happened? Regulus Black sold his house to who appeared to be Marcus' father, with a haste unheard of in such deals. This meant very rushed packing and moving out a mere day after Harry returned. In truth, Regulus had been tidying the house up since the beginning ofJune, stuffing the most precious and dangerous items such as his falcon cups and lion chairs into expanded trunks, but no one suspected a thing until Arno Longhurst came calling, Anna Maria Fletcher by his side. Slamming a bunch of official-looking papers on the last remaining desk not yet packed away, the wizard gave Regulus a week to leave the house, also demanding the floo address be changed from Cliff hole (Goldcrest perch was its unofficial name known only to the select few) to Longhurst keep, effective immediately. The handsome sum of twenty thousand galleons changed accounts in Gringats the next day (and where did that uagadou dropout, from what Marcus could recall, find so much money?) making the place change owners too. The reactions to this were as varied as it could be – Marcus cursed, Regulus wept, Alexa kept switching from fear to sadness, Hermes looked around his birth home with longing, but everyone pittied Harry, who would be forced to cope with nightmare scarier than the Dursleys, at least until the new place they were all going was made livable. Even though Marcus tried to delay the inevitable as much as possible, the day had come too fast for his comfort. This was how the strange company of five found themselves at the doorstep of number 12 Grimmauld place five days after the end of school term, the assortment of trunks, backpacks and bags by their feet./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; padding: 0cm; mso-padding-alt: 1.0pt 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;"span lang="EN-US"The house appeared abandoned for years, even from outside: the bricks were more dirty pink than red, being exposed to the elements for god knows how long without repainting; crums of mortar and bits of wood lay scattered around; grime and dust covered the windows, through which a single flickering light shone, the only sign of life inside. For a good ten minutes no one moved, too afraid or lost in their less than pleasant memories to knock or unlock the door. Finally, with a heavy sigh as if entering a deathtrap, Regulus pulled a rusty key out of his jacket pocket and let everyone in. "home sweet home" – he murmered more to the dilapidated entryway than himself, voice bitter with irony. A century-old oil lamp flickered to life on its own, illuminating a threadbare carpet hidden under a layer of dirt and dust, pealing wallpaper and a couple discolored paintings in splintered frames. Even worse was the smell – a mix of stale air, mould and something even more disgusting forced everyone to remember bubblehead charms immediately after stepping through the door. No one dared putting their luggage on the floor, rather pulling their wands out and levitating everything in front of them. Naturally, Alexa and Hermes were less than satisfied with their new home, the former voicing her opinion in rapid Elven, while the latter tried using his newly learned cleaning spell, when suddenly a pop more like a canonblast than elf aperition sounded from nowhere. An old house elf clad in greasy pillowcase, hunched and pale as paper, appeared, insane glint in his sunken eyes. He threw a dirty look at the new arrivals and started screetching, voice reminiscent of a mad frog:/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; padding: 0cm; mso-padding-alt: 1.0pt 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;"span lang="EN-US""master Regulus is back! But master Regulus brings filth in master's house! what be Kreacher's mystress be saying, oh poor mystress…" he stopped suddenly, glanced at Marcus and screamed with new rage: "how dare master Regulus bring imposter into my mystress' house! yous look like blood traitor master Sirius but yous is not! Out! All out!" he snapped his fingers; the door flew open, a sudden gust of wind raising clouds of dust. Another snap would have thrown the two wizards and elves out and into the street, if not for Alexa's quick reaction. In no time, Kreacher found himself petrified on the floor, bound and silenced, while humans tried to regain their barings. "don't stand like goats in headlamps!" she nudged each wizard in the knee, all the while observing the insane elf's prone form. "sorry about this, but I can't let you hurt my master, can I?"/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; padding: 0cm; mso-padding-alt: 1.0pt 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;"span lang="EN-US"-/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; padding: 0cm; mso-padding-alt: 1.0pt 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;"span lang="EN-US""what on earth is wrong with that elf?" – Harry was first to recover, voicing the only question everyone was seeking the answer for. The strange company had unpacked some of their smaller things, and were now sitting in the somehow cleaner than expected kitchen. Kreacher lay sprawled on the floor with elven cushioning charm, while Alexa ran some scans over him. "oh great many things", the creature paused in her work to look Harry in the eye, "blood bond to a dead person, incomplete or broken word bond to Regulus here, dark artifact influence, loneliness, badly healed head injury and remnaants of some nasty potions. With this lot he would have been already dead, if not for some task he feels obliged to complete." Regulus, so calm and concentrated til then, suddenly sprung from the chair with a thunderous expression. "I'm so going to have a word with my dear mother! What have you done this time?!" he stormed out and upstairs, ignoring Alexa's pleading to find Hermes for protection. Only when demonic screetching of a woman filled the house, did he realise how he needed someone capable of a good silencing charm. Walberga Black's portrait, despite of recognizing only two of her children (Regulus and Bellatrix) as worthy, unleashed a storm upon seeing him: "how dare you return to my house?! ten years, ten damn years and not a single word from you turncoat! Go away traitor, and take your filthy friends with you! Kreacher! Throw the trash out!" the petrified elf stirred, but Alexa was quick to reapply the spell. "Kreacher! Obey, or your head will join your ancestors on the wall…" the insults stopped abruptly, followed by Hermes appearing from nowhere withspan style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanmischievous grin on his face. Moments later, Regulus skipped down, two stairs at a time. without warning, he grabbed the little elf in a bearhug. "thank you, thank you thrice for silencing that howler! I dont remember my father ever having guests since she died. I know it's blasthemous insulting dead people, but she got worse as a painting than being alive. Add that insane elf, and no one wanted to even glance to our side of the street. thank you." "you're welcome – squeaked the elf, too shy to lift his head and meet his mother's proud smile. Kreacher stirred again but was calmed down with another petrification spell. Drawing her attention away from Hermes, Alexa resumed the task way more important than silencing a painting. The results of her scans showed the same miserable image of abused, lonely creature too old for his age, with numerous badly healed injuries and influence of dark artifacts and potions. "worse than Winky" – the creature mumbled to herself, trying to make a plan of how to rescue one of her kind. "will take some time til its safe to release him. For now he needs a patronus cleansing, and I think the house will need that too. A few helath potions after that, and your little friend" – she winked at Regulus, "will be right as rain." The wizard chuckled, but a sudden thought swept his laughter away: "patronus cleansing? Is it that bad? Walberga was insane, no doubt, but… I mean, I left the place just after she died, but Kreacher was responsible for it, for Merlin's sake!" now was Marcus' turn to chuckle, recalling Sirius' memory of some interactions with the most skilled lier in his family – his mother's beloved elf. Alexa resorted to shaking her head and throwing seemingly absentminded comment: "yes, very responsible indeed. I can feel at least three doxey colonies, two boggarts and a poffle of fanged puffscanes upstairs, as well as several dark artifacts on this floor. So, if you don't want to experience the harsh reality of living in the horror house, better sleep in here for now. I'll keep Kreacher petrified until tomorrow, so fear not of being thrown out in the middle of night." Her words somewhat calmed everyone, even if they meant sleeping on conjured beds in the kitchen or entrance hall for no one knew how long. Even if it made Marcus even more furious, Regulus confused, Harry longing for previous summer, and Hermes outright terrified./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; padding: 0cm; mso-padding-alt: 1.0pt 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;"span lang="EN-US"That was how the strange company of five started their Grimmauld reality style summer./span/p
/div