Kreacher had only ever properly served two masters. He’d worked for Walburga and Sirius Black but they weren’t his masters. No, his only masters were Regulus Black and Harry Potter.
Two men, only distantly related, who had met their deaths in the exact same way. Kreacher hated Lord Voldemort and Horcruxes more than anything. Not for the first time, he thanked Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger for killing the piece of darkened filth that Tom Riddle had become.
Kreacher missed his two masters. They’d been different but similar.
Regulus Black had been solemn silence and forlorn stares. He’d been star-gazing and books long since forgotten. He’d been long nights out and an alcohol addiction. He’d been dark and dangerous and deadly. But he’d tried to turn it around. Then his hands laid upon that Horcrux then he was haunted gray eyes and sallow skin that clung to bone. Then he was a body in a grave, the stone above it proclaiming Our one true heir. He wasn’t a son or a brother- just an heir. Walburga and Sirius hadn’t cared.
Harry Potter was years later- after Walburga and Sirius had died.
He was warm smiles and laughing eyes (and haunted stares and too-thin limbs). He’d been flying above the house late at night and cooking early in the mornings (and pouring over books far too long to be healthy and looking into far darker curses than necessary). He been long silences and a taste for fire-whiskey (and cigarettes that were far too old, gained from Lord Sirius’ room). He’d been safe and warm and dangerous and deadly. But he was a protector and doing what he was meant to do. His hands laid upon the locket and he survived. Survived long enough that Kreacher thought he was live. Except he didn’t. Now green eyes were hollow and no sound rose from the grave. Like Regulus, he was a body buried under dirt. A good soldier, his gravestone had read.
Another seventeen-year-old lost to war. Another seventeen-year-old lost to Horcruxes. Nineteen years apart but the same in every way.
Kreacher thought he was done. Then his eyes landed on the child he’d been left to. Edward Lupin, cousin of Regulus and godson of Harry. Another master.
Kreacher hoped this one didn’t follow the same fate.