I am so sorry, that I have not updated this story in such a long time. My muse decided she needed a vacation and if I would not take one, she would go without me. She has been to Venice and back, she tells me as I watch "Searching for Italy" and she thinks that I would have really liked it. She smirks as she says it and rolls her eyes.

Thank you everyone that has continued to follow, favorite, and review this mess of a story. I know where she is going, but that way there is not as clear as it once was. Hopefully, you will continue to walk through this journey with me.

To Serve the Noble House of Black

Chapter 12

January 1969 – Part 1

Going back in time, this time was nothing like she had ever experienced before. Whether it was her size or her physical and mental condition, she knew that this was nothing like she had traveled in her third year. Unable to tolerate the sensation and trying to cry out, she finally passed out. Kreacher looked down at his new mistress and felt that this was for the best as he still had to seal away her memories of the last several hours. It would not do for a nine-year-old witchling to be burdened with this witch's life experiences.

There was much for Kreacher to do, to integrate the mudblood into this past timeline, to integrate himself and explain to his most marvelous mistress Black what had happened and why he must reset the timeline. He knew that his former masters were aware of the ability if not the process, or he felt that his most noble master would have done it himself, but for some reason had been unable to, leaving it to their most trusted servant and a young unappreciated witch that was destined to serve the Most Noble House of Black.

The rush of the wind around them disappeared and Kreacher found himself and the little witch in the front foyer of the Most Noble House of Black, the same spot in which they had left from only moments before. The room was pristine, without the noticeable decay on the walls, the air of neglect that had permeated the air of the dwelling and the lack of the burning wizard that they had left behind. The latter was the only thing that Kreacher regretted. He would have enjoyed seeing that wizard's demise.

For all that he had done to his once Noble family, he would make sure he would pay. He would stop him. For the secrets that he had tried to expose for his own interpretation of "The Greater Good", the wizard with too many names would not succeed in this time or any other time as long as Kreacher drew breath or the children of his line, and he was determined to make sure that he was not the last, continued to serve his Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. Magic had a new chance to be saved, because Kreacher had survived.

He had turned back time to give this witch a chance to avenge her world and to make it a better place for all wizard folk and creatures alike. He had heard the witchling for years go on and on about the suppression of house elves, the oppression of werewolves, goblins, and centaurs, for the objections to mudblood's or new bloods as she had taken to calling herself. The so-called "Leaders of the Light" gave lip service to these issues, but never opposed them. This witch would be the one to bring these injustices to light.

He looked down at the tiny slip of a witch at his feet and knew that he could not introduce her to his family as of yet. There was too much for her to learn, for her to experience before she could meet her future bond -mates.

The plan was to introduce her to the Princes' by way of the youngest and only heir to the Prince line. The plan would insure a stable and if not nurturing home life for her, at least she would and could be educated in the ways of society before beginning her new life at Hogwarts. It would provide both children with a more stable background than they had experienced previously. And if some friendships never came to pass, maybe they weren't meant to be in this timeline.

He would need to take her to the Potion Master's house and leave her there to be found. Hopefully quickly as it was not the warmest season to leave her to the elements. She would have no memory of her life before and all it entailed, but he would leave her with her age and her name, for as much as people tried to shorten it, Kreacher felt it was an appropriate name for a witch such as her. And when her memories were recalled, it would not be as foreign to her as a new name would be.

Taking her by the hand he apparated them to the little mill town of Cokeworth and the rear of the homes found at Spinner's End. Where the town might have been charming in a previous life, it was now showing signs of disrepair. The mill looked like it had not produced much by way of goods over the last couple of years and the river that ran through the town showed signs of refuse along its banks with the alcohol and drug paraphernalia that had begun to be seen in larger cities.

Kreacher worried greatly about leaving the girl here in just a set of witches' robes that were on the thinner side and without a wand, but he could feel the power of the child that lived just beyond the back gate of this home. The wavering power of the witch that was barely surviving the abuse of her savior, the muggle husband to which she had once cleaved.

Knowing that his family would have felt a disturbance in the wards of their manor when he had left with the witch, he knew that he would need to return there shortly, but he wanted to ensure her safety until she was found.

Looking down at the witch, he carefully layered a muggle repelling charm over her and a notice me not charm, just until the wizard found her. He set a slight warming charm on her so that she did not fall ill and then prayed to the Gods and Goddesses that she would be found soon and be saved until he could visit her again. Laying a hand on her frizzy curls and wishing her well, he dis-apparated away, back to Grimmauld Place.

January 1969 – Part 2

He arrived back at his family's estate with a small, almost silent pop. The quietness of this house belied the people that lived within it. He could sense the children up in their bedrooms. If he remembered correctly, they had been sent to their rooms for some nonsense regarding their inability to stay quiet when in the presence of guests.

His Master was locked in his study, fully believing that his wife had been too harsh in her punishment of their children and was worried about her lose grasp of right and wrong in the raising of their boys and the assumptions of their sheltered world. He was not wrong. He knew of the tendency of madness amongst the Black family. Walburga's own mother had, had it in spades when she insisted on the marriage of the first cousins in the first place. And her ability or rationalize it to her husband as well as the patriarch of their family insured it. His own parents were known for their lose grasp on reality at the best of times and it was his hope of escaping those parents that drove him into his own home and marriage to his own cousin with hopes that they could parent their own children in a less conflicted environment. It now seemed that there were losing that battle.

Kreacher's mistress was in her dressing room. It was there where he needed to be. The years he had spent in her service both as a living witch as well as just oil on a canvas had prepared him for what needed to be done.

But first he must find his younger self, for she would never believe him if she only saw him as he once was, rather than what he became and how he came to be there.