The house-elf clung to the edge of the coffin, completely at a loss, tears the size of beans spilling from the corners of his eyes.
"Master Regulus!"
he cried.
"Master Regulus! You've finally come home!"
Then his mouth fell open in delight.
"Why aren't you saying anything?"
he shouted again.
"Are you asleep? Oh, you really must take better care of yourself. The weather in this house is freezing."
With a snap of his fingers, he produced a quilt several times bigger than he was and threw it over the body.
"He's dead."
Sirius couldn't take it anymore. He said it irritably.
"He is not dead!!"
the house-elf screamed, then immediately started slapping himself across the face.
"How could Kreacher speak to Master Black like that?"
After saying that, he turned his head away.
Facing the carpet, he muttered in a voice everyone could clearly hear:
"—Back from Azkaban, and now he's ordering Kreacher around… Oh, my poor mistress, if she could see this, what would she say?
Ha! He's brought home all sorts of riffraff—she swore she'd never acknowledge him as her son, and now he's back again, and they say he's a murderer—"
The house-elf just kept talking. He seemed very old, and his hearing clearly wasn't good anymore, so he spoke in an obvious stage whisper, apparently thinking no one else could hear him any better than he could.
"Don't mind him. He's been alone too long,"
Sirius said quickly, seeing the Pukwudgie raise his bow.
"He got some mad orders from my mother's portrait and now he's always talking to himself."
"Riffraff?! You stupid little thing—Mr. Green setting foot in this place is an honor beyond anything you deserve!"
The Pukwudgie butler completely ignored Sirius's explanation. He glared furiously at Kreacher, his sharp arrow already pressed to the top of the elf's head.
"The house is filthy now. Something dirty came in here, green and brazen, just standing there as if it owns the place.
If my mistress knew, oh, how she would weep!
But now there's a boy here too. Kreacher doesn't know his name. What is he doing here? Kreacher doesn't know."
Kreacher hunched over the coffin, tucking the blanket over Regulus's pale corpse, then shot them all a venomous look.
"You damned little—"
The Pukwudgie butler pounced.
The two of them rolled across the floor in a flurry, crashing into cabinets with a tremendous clatter.
A few seconds later, the fight ended with the Pukwudgie pinning Kreacher down, both of his arms twisted behind his back.
"If you dare show the slightest disrespect to Mr. Green again—"
Will was kneeling on Kreacher's back. His arrow sliced across the edge of Kreacher's ear and drove into the floor with a crack. That was what finally made Kreacher understand the seriousness of the situation.
He shrieked, blood running down from his ear.
"Master Regulus! Master Regulus!"
he cried for help, then suddenly looked up, as if he had only just come back to himself. At once he started scrambling frantically toward the body, wailing so loudly the whole room shook.
Sirius couldn't bear to look and turned away.
Sean lowered his eyes too.
"Mr. Kreacher,"
Sean said, taking out a locket.
The moment Kreacher saw it, he began trembling uncontrollably. Sean quietly undid the ropes binding him, then placed the locket in his hands.
"I learned the secret of the cave, and I will destroy that locket at once. I'm sorry for taking it from this house.
I will fulfill Regulus Black's dying wish.
If you're willing to trust me, then know this: I've already destroyed several objects like it. The papers have reported it many times."
Kreacher did read newspapers. There were a few recent copies of the Daily Prophet lying out in the sitting room.
"Y-you—you're…"
Kreacher's eyes were too cloudy to see clearly.
Without a word, Sean took out a diary with a hole burned straight through it, and then a diadem, letting Kreacher feel the lingering evil in them.
"Master Green! It's you!
Only you have ever destroyed things like that. The fools in the papers don't know what those things are, but Kreacher knows.
Those were the things Master Regulus wanted to destroy until the very end…
Kreacher thought about it for so long. Kreacher knows those things. Kreacher, Kreacher, Kreacher believes you…
And you even brought Master Regulus back…"
The little house-elf broke down into sobs again.
"What are you talking about, Kreacher?"
Sirius couldn't stay quiet any longer. He asked sharply.
"Kreacher failed! Kreacher couldn't carry out Master Regulus's orders!"
Kreacher screamed hoarsely and lunged toward the poker by the fireplace.
"Will, restrain him."
Sean said immediately.
"My master told you not to move!"
Will shouted, tackling Kreacher again and pinning him firmly to the ground.
"This wasn't your fault, Mr. Kreacher. Very few wizards know how to destroy them."
Sean said slowly.
"What in Merlin's name are you all talking about?"
Sirius had become completely frantic.
"Kreacher is talking."
Kreacher answered him on instinct, then turned back toward the carpet and muttered:
"Master is a nasty, ungrateful wretch who broke his mother's heart—"
"My mother didn't have a heart, Kreacher,"
Sirius snapped.
"She lived entirely on hatred."
Kreacher bowed again as he spoke.
"No matter what Master says,"
he muttered furiously,
"Master wasn't fit to wipe the dirt from his mother's shoes. Oh, my poor mistress, if she could see Kreacher serving Master, what would she say?
How she hated him—what a disappointment he was—and now he's a murderer too—"
"If you keep muttering like that, I really am going to kill somebody!"
Sirius burst out.
Kreacher flinched and edged a little closer toward Sean.
"Now then, Mr. Kreacher, can you tell us Regulus's story?
In return, I'll give this locket back to you."
Sean said, seeing fresh tears already spilling down Kreacher's face.
It was dark by then, and the Leaky Cauldron was unusually quiet.
"Master Regulus, Master Regulus… Kreacher thought he'd never see him again, but he came home, and only now Kreacher can't wake him…
Kreacher thought his great deed would be forgotten, but you see, Kreacher remembered. And now there's another gentleman too—though Kreacher doesn't know if he's a Mudblood…"
Kreacher sat up and curled into himself, burying his wet face between his knees as he rocked back and forth.
When he finally began to speak, his voice was low and muffled, but in the still, echoing room, every word came through clearly.
~~~
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