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Kreacher's Master (Padfoot)


Orion Black did not greet his son at Platform 9 ¾ with a hug, nor a smile. Not even a hello. When Sirius arrived to his father's side, Orion grabbed hold of his forearm and pulled him into the apparition zone and, using side-along disapparation, brought him home to Number 12, Grimmauld Place without so much as a nod. They apparated on the top step of the front stoop of the house and Sirius looked around while his father unlocked the door. The park opposite was dusted with snow and the lanterns had been decorated with rolls of garland and twinkle lights. The other houses in the cul-de-sac of Grimmauld Place were like Christmas cards, each door sporting an evergreen sprig or a wreath. By comparison, the Black house was dark and just as unwelcoming as his father.

The door opened and Sirius turned to face the dark, musty house. It was cold inside, as it always had been, but now, used to the Hogwarts warmth and light, it seemed so much worse. Sirius stood in the doorway as his father retreated into the depths of the house the instant the front door had slammed shut behind them without ever speaking a word. Sirius rubbed his hands together to generate some warmth and lowered his school bag to the floor.

The house was silent.

Leaving behind his luggage for Kreacher to carry up to his room, Sirius began to climb the stairs. Each step creaked as he made his way upward, a noise that seemed to echo off the walls. He winced with each groan of the wood until he reached the landing outside the library. He paused at the door. “Hullo? Mother?” he called, but there came no answer from within. “It's me… Sirius… I'm home for Christmas.”

He wasn't sure what he'd expected. A ticker tape parade, perhaps, he thought sarcastically.

There was a creak on the steps ahead of him and he turned and found the ugly grey Kreacher standing there, his dirty old rag cloth tied at his shoulder like a toga. The old house elf had hair growing out of his big bat-like ears and his eyes were wide and bulbous. He stared at Sirius, his nose twitching in disapproval.

“You're home.”

Sirius looked up, following the sound of the voice to find Regulus, leaning though the rails of the banister overhead. His hair was messier than it had been back in September – grown out a bit now. Regulus stood up and walked down the steps, coming to a stop beside Kreacher, staring at Sirius with a sort of distrust in his eyes. “She didn't think you'd come.”

“Mother?”

“Yeah.”

“Why wouldn't I come?” Sirius asked, “It's Christmas, of course I'd come.”

Regulus still didn't look sure, but he forced a smile just the same. “So tell me about Hogwarts.”

Sirius grinned, tossing his arm 'round his kid brother's shoulder. “Oh, Reg, it's everything we thought it might be. It's marvelous!” He looked at Kreacher. “Go fetch my bag, elf, and bring it up to my room. We'll be waiting for you there.”

Kreacher hesitated, looking at Regulus, as though asking if he really had to follow the order. Regulus said, “Go on, Kreacher, do as he says.”

“Yes master Regulus,” Kreacher replied obediently, snapping his fingers and disappearing from sight.

Sirius frowned. “What's with Kreacher?”

“What do you mean?” Regulus asked.

“Well you saw him, he wasn't going to listen to me at first just then.”

“He's just fickle is all,” Regulus brushed off the question, following Sirius up the stairs towards the bedroom. “What's the Common Room like?” he asked.

“Warm, much warmer than here,” Sirius answered, “There's a great big fireplace and loads of big puffy armchairs. There's a big painting of Godric Gryffindor over the mantle and --”

“Gryffindor,” snorted Regulus. “So it's true then? You've been sorted to Gryffindor?”

Sirius nodded.

Regulus frowned.

Kreacher had already gotten the bag apparated to the bedroom and had it unzipped, laying on the bed. Sirius reached inside and pulled out a great big red and gold banner with the Gryffindor lion emblazoned on it and quickly hung it up on the wall over his bed. Regulus stared up at it as Sirius continued unpacking a few more of his items, putting them about the room.

“I've met this great friend… James Potter. And there's other boys, too. Remus and Peter and I'm friends with the captain of the Quidditch team, too, Derek Bell and our Prefect, Bilius Weasley --”

Regulus flinched at the name. “Aren't the Weasleys, like, poor or something?”

“I dunno,” Sirius answered. He was fluffing up the pillows at the head of the bed. “But he's brilliant. Last term, he lit a cat's tail on fire with a filibuster firework! Everyone at the school talks about it!”

Regulus barely cracked a smile at the thought of a cat's fiery tail. He was standing at the end of Sirius's bed, hugging the mahogany post, watching his older brother unpack.

“My friends and I are working on this real neat map of the castle,” he said excitedly, “We've been wandering all over, writing down all the landmarks and everything. I reckon by the time you get to Hogwarts, we'll have it finished and you'll be able to use it to get to your classes real easy!” Sirius grinned at Regulus. “I'll help you, of course, too.”

Regulus sat down on a trunk at the foot of Sirius's bed.

“So what've you been up to here?” Sirius asked, realizing he hadn't shut up about Hogwarts yet since Regulus had asked.

Regulus shrugged. “Not a lot,” he answered. “Just… you know, the usual.” He picked at a thread on Sirius's quilt. “Kreacher and I have mostly just hung around the house. Kreacher's main job now is to be my friend. Mother ordered him.”

Perhaps, thought Sirius, that was why Kreacher had hesitated in going to get his bag at the door.

“Does he still always let you win at Exploding Snap?” asked Sirius with a laugh.

Regulus stared up at him and shrugged.

Sirius's laughter died away as Regulus didn't join in. He stood awkwardly alongside his bed and stared at his brother for a moment. Regulus reached out and looked at Sirius's Defense textbok, lifting it up and opening the cover of the old tome. He started flipping through pages, looking at the things that Professor Tutman had been teaching them on – the dark instruments. Sirius watched his brother's eyes skim the pages. Finally, he said, “You know, it's not so bad, Gryffindor.”

Regulus looked up from the book.

Sirius hesitated, but he didn't like the way, in just a few short months, Regulus had changed toward him so much. Back in August, Regulus and him had been best mates, hadn't they? And now Regulus could barely seem to speak a word to him. Was it truly because he'd been sorted Gryffindor that nobody in his family could seem to speak to him properly? He sat down on the bed so him and Regulus were eye-to-eye. “The reason Mother hates Gryffindor so much is because they accept muggle-borns and half-bloods.” He thought of the dispute they'd had on the train with Lily Evans. “And they aren't all bad, you know. Muggles aren't bad. Muggles are just people.”

Regulus blinked up at Sirius and there was a long pause between them as the words Sirius said hung in the air, so thick they were nearly tangible. Finally, Regulus put down the text book and stood up. “Mother was right,” he said, shaking his head.

“Right about what?” Sirius asked, eyebrows narrowing.

“Dumbledore's brainwashed you at that school,” replied Regulus.

“Dumbledore –?” Sirius sputtered, “Brainwashed –? What?”

Regulus paused at the door. Kreacher was simpering at his feet, big eyes staring up at Regulus, awaiting an order eagerly, hovering close to his master's side, ears twitching. “He's got you believing muggles are good, like they aren't trying to take over the magical community, like they haven't been killers for generations, burning witches and wizards for sport and making a joke of our world in theirs. They use us and they kill us and you think that's alright? Like they aren't filthy and full of hatred and evil.” Regulus shook his head. “You ain't the same, Sirius. You're changed.”

Sirius shook his head, “Maybe I've changed, Reg, but it's for the good. I see now, I understand. I've met muggles and muggle-borns and half-bloods. I'm friends with them. They're good people, they're good wizards. The smartest students in my year are a half-blood and a muggle-born,” he added, thinking of Remus and Lily. “Mother is the one who is brainwashing us. Mother is the one who is wrong, not Dumbledore. Dumbledore's the one who's had it right all along. And those books Mother used to make us read, they're wrong, too.” He sprang for his history of magic book and waved it at Regulus, “It's all in here. All of it. Those things happened centuries ago, and they weren't even identifying real witches and wizards! They had the definition of what we are all wrong, that's why they were against us – because they were afraid of what they didn't understand and they got it all wrong.”

“You're all wrong,” Regulus replied. He turned. “Come, Kreacher.”

“Yes, master,” simpered Kreacher, crouching and following alongside his master out the door.

Sirius threw the book at the floor, angry, and not at all satisfied by the sound of the thump of it on the dusty carpet. He swore and stood up, reaching into his bag and pulling out the rest of his things in a temper, his hands shaking with anger. He'd hoped all along that if nobody else accepted him at home, that at least Regulus might. Among his things was the little box he and James had sealed the rouge snitch into that night after Peter Pettigrew had caught it in the dormitories, and he opened the box and stared down at the little gold ball, thinking of James and Remus and Peter and wishing that he were back at Hogwarts with the lot of them instead of stuck here, in Number 12 Grimmauld Place. What a horrible Christmas it was going to be, he thought, as the snitch rose up from the box and began to zoom lazily around his bedroom.