Chapter 502

The house-elf crouched on the edge of the coffin, helpless, big tears falling from his corners.

“Master Black!”

He cried out.

“Master Black! You’ve finally come back!”

He opened his mouth wide again in delight.

“Why won’t you speak?”

He shouted again.

“Are you asleep? Oh, you really must take care of your health—this house is damned cold.”

He snapped his fingers and suddenly hugged a blanket many times his own size.

“He’s dead.”

Sirius couldn’t bear it—he growled irritably.

“He’s not dead!!”

The house-elf roared, then began frantically slapping his own face.

“How could Kreacher speak to Master Black like that?”

After speaking, he turned his head away.

His face pressed against the rug, speaking in a voice clearly audible to all:

“—Coming back from Azkaban and giving Kreacher orders now? Oh, my poor mistress, what would she say if she saw this?

Ha! He’s brought back some riffraff—she swore she’d never recognize him as her son, and now he’s returned, they say he’s a murderer—”

Kreacher spoke like this, seeming very old, his ears failing, so he spoke loudly, yet believed others heard him no better than he did.

“Don’t mind him—he’s been alone too long,”

Sirius said quickly as Puckee raised his bow.

“He takes mad orders from my mother’s portrait and just talks to himself.”

“Riffraff?! Damn fool, Mr. Green’s coming here is your great honor!”

Puckee the butler ignored Sirius’s explanation, glaring furiously at Kreacher, the sharp arrow already pressed to Kreacher’s scalp.

“The house is unclean—a filthy thing has come, green and oily, standing there brazenly.

If my mistress knew, oh, how heartbroken she’d be!

But a new boy has arrived here—Kreacher doesn’t know his name. What is he doing here? Kreacher doesn’t know.”

Kreacher crouched over the coffin, draping the blanket over Regulus’s pale corpse, and shot them a venomous glance.

“Damn bastard—”

Puckee the butler lunged at Kreacher; they tumbled together, rolling and crashing into cabinets with clattering bangs.

Seconds later, the fight ended with Puckee pinning Kreacher’s hands behind his back.

“If you dare show the slightest disrespect to Mr. Green—”

Will straddled Kreacher, the arrow slicing his ear and slamming into the floor—this finally made Kreacher react.

He shrieked in terror, bright red blood trailing from his ear.

“Master Regulus! Master Regulus!”

He cried out for help, jerked his head up as if snapping back to sense, then crawled frantically toward the corpse, wailing loudly.

Sirius couldn’t watch—he turned away.

Xiang Xien lowered his eyes.

“Mr. Kreacher.”

Xiang Xien said, pulling out a locket.

Kreacher trembled uncontrollably at the sight of the locket; Xiang Xien gently untied his ropes and placed the locket in his hands.

“I know the secret of the cave, and I will destroy this locket immediately—I’m sorry to have taken it from this house—but I will fulfill Regulus Black’s wish.

If you trust me, you should know I’ve destroyed many such objects—newspapers have reported it many times.”

Kreacher read newspapers—the parlor had several recent copies of the Daily Prophet.

“You—you—you are…”

Kreacher’s eyes couldn’t focus.

Xiang Xien silently pulled out a book with a large hole torn in it, and a crown, letting Kreacher feel the lingering evil aura.

“Mr. Green! It’s you!

Only you have destroyed such things—the fools in the papers didn’t know what they were, but Kreacher knows.

That was what Master Regulus wanted to destroy until his last breath… Kreacher thought for so long, Kreacher knows what those things are, Kreacher—Kreacher—Kreacher believes you… you’ve brought back Master Regulus…”

The small house-elf wept again, gasping for breath.

“What are you talking about, Kreacher?”

Sirius could no longer sit still—he demanded impatiently.

“Kreacher failed—he couldn’t carry out Master Regulus’s order!”

Kreacher rasped, lunging toward the poker beside the hearth.

“Will, stop him.”

Xiang Xien said at once.

“My master tells you to stay still!”

Will leapt onto Kreacher, pinning him down and holding him fast.

“It’s not your fault, Mr. Kreacher—very few wizards know how to destroy them.”

Xiang Xien said slowly.

“What on earth are you talking about?”

Sirius was utterly furious.

“Kreacher is speaking.”

Kreacher instinctively answered Sirius, then muttered to the rug:

“Master is a hateful, ungrateful scoundrel—he broke his mother’s heart—”

“My mother had no heart, Kreacher,”

Sirius snapped angrily,

“She lived only on hatred.”

Kreacher bowed again as he spoke.

“No matter what Master says,”

he grumbled bitterly,

“he doesn’t deserve to wipe his mother’s shoes—oh, my poor mistress, what would she say if she saw Kreacher serving Master?

How she hated him—how disappointing he was—now he’s a murderer too—”

“If you keep muttering, I’ll really kill you!”

Sirius went mad.

Kreacher shrank back toward Xiang Xien in fear.

“Now, Mr. Kreacher, can you tell us the story of Mr. Regulus?

In return, I will return this locket.”

Xiang Xien said, seeing Kreacher’s tears welling again.

The sky was dark, the Leaky Cauldron eerily empty.

“Master Regulus, Master Regulus, Kreacher thought he’d never see him again, but he came home—only Kreacher can never wake him up now…

He thought his great deed would be forgotten, but look—Kreacher remembers, and now there’s another master, though Kreacher doesn’t know if he’s a Mudblood…”

Kreacher sat up, curled into a ball, pressing his damp face between his knees, rocking back and forth.

When he spoke, his voice was low and muffled, yet perfectly clear in the quiet, echoing room.