Chapter 261: The Disappearance of Kreacher
It had been a while since they arrived at the Black family home, and for the first time, Harry discovered that the Dursleys weren't so bad—at least not compared to the Black family.
The Black mansion was enormous, though cold and eerie. During this time, everyone lived in rooms that had been stripped of as many of the family's dark decorations as possible.
Sirius was actually helpless about it. He had planned to throw away those neurotic old heirlooms and cursed relics of the Black family. The thought had even occurred to him the moment he was released from Azkaban.
But somehow, once he officially and legally inherited the Black family estate, he realized he had lost that freedom.
He couldn't even get rid of any furniture he disliked; at best, he could slightly redecorate.
To make matters worse, Kreacher had hidden a batch of those cursed antiques in advance, muttering about "the Mistress's will" all the while.
Still, Sirius admitted, there were some accidental benefits to keeping the house intact.
Harry hadn't understood what he meant at first—until one afternoon, when he, Ron, Draco, and Alexander were flying indoor bamboo dragonflies down the long hallway. While soaring midair, Ron accidentally lifted a velvet curtain.
Harry thought it was a door—or maybe a window.
A second later, he nearly collided with Draco. There was an ear-splitting scream—high-pitched and furious.
An old lady wearing a black bonnet appeared before them, screaming wildly, her mouth twisted in rage. Her shrieks echoed through the corridor, each one like a knife in the ear.
She drooled, her yellowed skin stretched tight from the strain of shouting, her eyes bulging as if she were being tortured.
Then, from the hallway behind them, other portraits began to scream as well.
"It's a portrait!" Harry realized suddenly.
He and Draco dropped to the floor, covering their ears.
Ron rushed over, trying to close the curtain again, but the portrait fought back—her claw-like hands slashing at the air as she shrieked,
> "You filthy half-breeds! You disgusting vermin! How dare you defile my ancestral home! Get out, get out, all of you!"
Then, from behind them came a sharp, furious voice—
> "Shut up!"
It was Sirius.
To everyone's astonishment, the portraits immediately fell silent—including the old woman's.
She glared venomously in Sirius's direction, her mouth clamped shut, though her hateful stare burned with fury.
Sirius exhaled, folded his arms, and said coolly,
> "Harry, that's the best part of being Head of the Family."
Turning to the portrait, he added mockingly,
> "Mother, I'm the Head now. Close your eyes and go to sleep."
The curtains drew themselves shut, and all the other portraits obediently closed their eyes.
Harry stared in disbelief.
> "She's your mother?"
After nearly a year at Hogwarts, he'd grown used to talking portraits. They carried echoes of their original selves—memories, temperaments, even personalities.
But this… this was something else.
If that portrait was anything like the real woman, then Sirius's mother had truly been a raving madwoman.
Sirius nodded grimly.
> "Yes. She looked down on everything that wasn't pure-blood. Stubborn, proud, and hateful to the core. She despised anything that wasn't exactly as she wanted—including me."
He gave a bitter laugh.
> "You know what's funny? Draco's right here, and she didn't even recognize him. All Malfoys look the same—pale skin, blond hair—but even then, she saw only what she wanted to see."
His expression darkened.
> "She even played a part in Regulus's death. My brother was too weak to resist her influence."
At that moment, Remus Lupin, who had rushed in after hearing the commotion, placed a hand on Sirius's shoulder.
> "This isn't your fault, Sirius," he said softly.
Ron, who'd been uncharacteristically quiet, suddenly frowned.
> "So that's why Kreacher acts so weird—it's because of that portrait, isn't it?"
Alexander nodded thoughtfully.
> "He hasn't been seen in a while, now that you mention it."
Ron shrugged.
> "Yeah, not that I miss him or anything, but it's strange. Usually he's muttering about how everyone's a disgrace or something."
Sirius sighed.
> "Kreacher? Honestly, I don't expect him to tidy up or cook. He's probably hiding somewhere with those dusty heirlooms. I'd rather he stayed out of sight."
He looked distant for a moment.
> "Still… he was close to my brother Regulus. Maybe that's why he clings to those old things."
The last time Sirius had taken Kreacher along—to pick up Harry—had only been because Molly Weasley had insisted.
> "Where does he sleep?" Harry asked curiously.
After meeting Dobby, Harry's view of house-elves had changed. Despite Kreacher's bitterness, he couldn't help but wonder what his living space was like.
> "Under the boiler, in the kitchen," Sirius replied.
He didn't mind indulging Harry's curiosity—it reminded him of James.
> "Go on, let them explore," Sirius said to Remus with a grin. "They'll be off to Hogwarts again soon. We'll talk about what to expect there—especially when it comes to those Slytherins…"
His voice trailed off, leaving the boys exchanging looks of curiosity.
"Let's go see Kreacher's room," said Harry.
Alexander raised an eyebrow but nodded. Something about this place had been nagging at him too—a faint, unsettling feeling that they should look.
They made their way down to the basement kitchen. The air grew heavier and darker as they descended. After knocking on the door with no response, Ron, ever impatient, pushed it open.
The sight inside made them freeze.
It looked like a garbage pit. The space was dominated by an enormous old boiler, and beneath the pipes was a cramped hollow barely a foot wide. It was piled with rags and filthy blankets, reeking of mold.
"Ugh, this can't be where he sleeps," Ron groaned, covering his nose.
"I think it is," Alexander said quietly.
Harry pointed. "Look—by that pile of junk."
Scattered near the rags were crumbs of stale bread and moldy cheese. There was no mistaking it—this was Kreacher's nest.
And Kreacher himself… was nowhere to be found.
(End of Chapter
261)
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