Perfection's Beholder
If you want to read the info I wrote about my worlds House elves and their breeds or species or whatever I have a few different ones written about at the very bottom of the author’s notes.
ALSO, be warned, there is a character in this chapter that is super creepy, messed up, and into the pureblood ideology and Black family incest to the extreme! He’s also creepy about Harry. Nothing happens, I don’t think anything ever will no matter how much he would hope it would as you will see literally can’t have anything happen, but it's icky.
ALSO, HOW SHOULD THE MEETING BETWEEN HARRY AND SIRIUS GO?
Start Chapter 5
“Kreacher! Bring forth mine dearest his favored finger sandwiches, an assortment of tea cakes, and tarts with blackberry jam… And… I believe you said it was treacle tart? Yes, bring mine lovely this as well. We will be having tea in the plum room today.”
Kreacher grimaced at the thought of his little master having all of that food and specifically sugar before the lovely dinner that he was making for him. He didn’t like the idea of spoiling supper. A late high tea was nearly the boy’s time to eat as Kreacher still enforced a rather early bedtime, especially now that his little master was learning more than the basics of things like potion ingredient uses and preparation, maths, the starts of cosmology, family history, basic magic theory and highborn pureblood etiquette.
“Kreacher will do this, master Ophiuchus.” The elf agreed although he didn’t look all that pleased. He eyed the portrait of a younger-looking, perhaps at most early 40s-something, strikingly handsome man. Who had high cheekbones, a sharp, somewhat slightly hawkish proud-looking nose, hooded deep-set natural almost come-hither metallic silver eyes, and lower shoulder-length luscious curly pitch-colored hair.
The man was dressed in rather ostentatious old-fashioned clothing of the highest quality. Wearing dark green and black leather Louis heeled boots with big buckles across the top of the feet, more for decoration than function. The boots went up nearly to the man’s knees and were decorated extensively with flourishes of engraved silver and gold.
He wore sheer dark green breeches as well and a pale gold-colored silken waistcoat that had fanciful pearly white buttons. To tie together the over-the-top look the man wore a black overcoat with extensive golden embroidery done on it that was somewhere between something from high fashion from 1600s muggle high society and a wizard’s dress robe, open to show off legs, boots and breeches unlike much of the traditional British wizarding robes and the coat went to just below the man’s knees in crisp waves. Much like the muggles of the time he also wore a cravat that frilled about his front and had long white frills falling from his crisp sleeves. The man sat on a throne more than a chair and on his hands were several shining rings, one being a likeness of the lordship ring of the Black family.
Pearly straight teeth could be seen as the man grinned almost manicly at the elf. “Very good! Harry, mine darling, I would be most honored if you would please join me for refreshments in the plum room?~” The portrait all but purred in a tone that was more an order than a request.
“Of course grandfather!” Harry exclaimed, big green eyes brightening as he eagerly stood and headed out of the room.
The house was dim no matter how many lights were turned on or used as if its darkness quite literally sucked the light from everything. Anyone else would have felt it oily and oppressive to simply step foot onto the property let alone if they moved about the home. It was dusty, in need of repairs and clearly clogged to the gills with dark magic. With black magic that nuzzled at Harry like an adoring cat, sticky and clingy and oozing into pores and orphases so sweetly Harry had trouble telling where he started and the house ended sometimes.
Harry felt like purring as he ran a finger over a wallpaper-peeled wall and felt the house eagerly curling about him. He hummed, eyes a bit glassy as he made his way to the stairs. Harry smiled as he felt the home’s sticky magic happily wisp around him and rub up against his fingers. The child clicked his tongue in amusement at the feeling of the home's magic clinging to his skin like cold gelatinous honey.
Harry didn’t have to even think about or be warned by the house when it came to the spots that needed to be avoided anymore. It was second nature at that point, though Grimmauld place and Kreacher would never let him come to any serious harm. Once he was more trained and able to take over as lord the first thing he wanted to do was to fix the home up and get rid of the parasites that both the house and Kreacher were having trouble exterminating due to lack of properly maintained and managed magics.
A house elf, even one as powerful and old as Kreacher, wouldn’t be able to renew the magics needed to see to a place as powerful and magically damaged as Grimmauld’s place was. Grandfather Orion and Grandmother Walburga had forced the home and wards to support protections that without regular maintenance had both weakened and sickened Kreacher and the home. It wouldn’t be a hard fix for someone like Harry once he was trained up a bit. It was ridiculous that he even needed to fix the ancient townhouse. If the family had just added even just one more ward stone it would have kept most of the issues the house now had under control. That or even if the family had been more connected with the magics of Kreacher and Grimmauld like Harry was. Neither most recent adult residence had been anywhere nearly as bonded as Harry already was though. Kreacher had confirmed that.
Although he was a great man, at least when it came to cursing magics and politically, Grandfather Orion had barely been accepted by the family magics as lord Black. Harry suspected the only reason that he had been accepted was because the magics had considered him to be the most suitable for the role after grandfather Acturus. The magic of Orion had been more accepted because he was a powerful wizard with strong values and the only person suited enough to take on the lord’s mantle left after Acturus wished to pass on the title. He wasn’t nearly as in tune with the family magics as he should have been though. At least from what Harry had pieced together nor did he nurture them like was necessary to keep them strong and healthy. The traitor and Regulus had both been sensitive to magics and the family magic, especially.
Regulus, unlike the traitor loved and been well loved by the family magics. Making him the most suitable and accepted heir for the family magics in generations. Kreacher had great pride in that fact and had been in full support of his young master becoming lord not only because he was good to him regardless of what one may think but because he had been more than perfect for the job of upholding the legacy of the Blacks.
Harry had preened at the knowledge that Kreacher thought Harry to be even more suited than even his mother or the traitor had ever been. The most suited since the heyday of the Black family, over 300 years ago. He was glad, he loved the family magics and he could feel its affections for him. Harry couldn’t comprehend the thought of not feeling them so freely, of not being able to understand them and how sick they had become. It was bizarre, an almost incomprehensible thing to him that the others had been unable to see and feel and smell and even taste magic the way he had always been able to do. Their world must have been so dull and muted, debilitatingly so! How could anyone function that way? Who would want to? How could they stand it? The connection between them and Kreacher… to sweet lovely Grimmauld’s place? Could they not feel how much Grimmauld loved its residence? How lonely and painful the house had become over the years? How sorrowful it was not to be felt and understood and full to the brim with family and chaos anymore?
Harry often wondered what it was like to have a big family like the Black’s once had been and mourned for the thought. It seemed like something that poor Kreacher and Grimmauld had dearly loved and missed. Harry knew he could only feel sadness over an idea of what was. He couldn't feel the pain of knowing and losing like they could. The house and elf had been around for many generations of the Black family. Kreacher had lived even far longer than when the townhouse had even been built. Harry suspected it must have been especially distressing and painful for his dear Kreacher. Especially the way he spoke so longingly about better times for the family. Harry wished he were able to see his family then. Harry sighed to himself over his heavy thoughts.
Grimmauld was rather playful that day tugging him along to where it had hidden the plum room for the day or hour… depending on how fidgety the house was feeling. The bedrooms and main rooms stayed in place but there were a few rooms that the house enjoyed playing hide and seek with. Harry sometimes wondered if it was just for him or if it was something it often did when healthy. Kreacher had said that the house was rarely so playful with other masters and could even be aloof.
The child was certainly at that point he could have figured out where the room was on his own but he let the house guide him anyway. Down the main staircase 2 floors then up again 3 floors at the staircase hidden in the dusty old music room with the orange mold in the corner that used to stare with dozens of hideous-looking eyes that were bulging and mud-colored. It couldn't anymore though. Not since Kreacher had gotten so incited by the dinner plate-sized things, following his little master around with far too much interest, and he had gouged most out. The few smaller eyes remaining were deflated and pudding consistency or ropy and clouded.
The whole thing trembled like jello the second Harry entered the room. Kreacher’s cruel lessons had more than stuck. Harry snorted as an almost too-quiet-to-hear tea kettle-like squeal of fear was barely audible to his ears. The child knew that it reacted that way just from feeling the vibrations of his small body bouncing through the room. Harry let out an amused snort. The only reason it hadn’t been relocated was due to the fungi’s usefulness in keeping the doxie population down in that part of the home, making things easier for Kreacher.
Once Harry was able to start fixing the house he would be either putting the mold into one of the jars he had begun lining his shelves with. They were mostly full of putrid doxie corpses in various stages of rot to watch decompose without the stink. That or it would be put in containment in the basement where he was sure they could use it for potions ingredients for the next decade or so until it lost its use. Sentient molds were rare and often very useful in the potioneer arts after all. Lucky for Harry, that the house contained more than one kind!
The other mold that interested Harry was considered rather dangerous even to Kreacher. At least when it had to do with little master’s possibly getting mauled. It was one of the only times that Harry had been completely forbidden from somewhere in the house. The 2nd floor’s guest quarters after that particularly clever and vicious mildew had tried biting the boy’s leg off when he was 5. Harry couldn’t wait until he was big enough that the elf felt comfortable letting him play with such an interesting little friend! It had been the loveliest shades of purple and green, like a terribly bad bruise!
Poor dear Kreacher had done his best to clean up Grimmauld and make it safe but it was just too much for the old elf with everything else he had to do and the condition Kreacher was in. It infuriated Harry how neglectful and needlessly cruel Grandmother Walburga and Grandfather Orion had been to his Kreacher. The child was sure though that once the magic was properly tended to and the house was cleaned up and renovated that Kreacher would be able to easily keep everything to his standards. Harry smiled a little to himself at the thought. Kreacher would be so happy to be able to take care of things properly again. Harry knew how much it upset him that he was having such a hard time managing everything. The thought of bringing in another house elf didn’t even cross the child’s mind in his planning.
Kreacher was not at all friendly towards other house elves. The elderly elf had only just barely sometimes tolerated the painfully tame and meek common species of house elves in Britain, outside of his domain. And try to bring one in the house? Well, good luck keeping it unharmed.
Kreacher was highly aggressive towards any elves in his house. It was to the point of him being too dangerous to have him around them. Oddly enough, it actually wasn’t all that unusual for the elder house elf’s species or even a majority of house elf species to behave in such a way to some degree, especially towards house elves from unrelated households or lines. This was very true when it came to foreign elves visiting their home. Because of this, it was considered bad form to bring an unfamiliar house elf into a person’s home, if they too, had house elves.
Though people these days, often did so. Recent generations seemed to forget the issues that it could cause. It was still considered rude, especially in older pureblood households though. And it was especially a frowned upon behavior when that person was unrelated and if the elf wasn’t a personal house elf that stayed with the person the entire time. Especially if they were a more aggressive species of house elf or the host had more territorial house elves especially if they were elves that had stayed in a household for multiple generations and or had and a small close-knit established colony.
House elves were often more tolerant of each other when in public spaces. Though, ones like Kreacher, still barely tolerated other elves. People’s impressions of house elves in that day and age were quite different than reality. Especially when it came to those just coming into the magical world or who had been raised in households without house elves or who only had one or 2 young elves.
The average impressions of house elves in a large portion of Europe was of them being rather pathetically hyper-eager to serve and please, friendly, social, and docile. This was due to the fact that the most commonly seen species favored by United Kingdom countries, a good amount of mainland Europe and the Americas was the Gaelic Point. Most people didn’t even know there were more than a dozen different species of house elf. The Gaelic Point was considered to be the most overwhelmingly popular species in the west due to it being one of the least aggressive species of elf if not the least aggressive. However, unlike what most thought they could still be sensitive about unfamiliar elves in their home and spaces, especially if they were to take their human’s attention from them.
Introducing an elf wasn’t something that should have been taken lightly especially when introducing a new elf to the household. Even someone trying to visit with their elf needed to be cautious. Introducing an elf could cause major fights, arguments, and property damage in the best case. Severe injuries, maiming, death and even cannibalismin the worst cases. However, Gaelic Points rarely got to that point. Introducing house elves was a surprisingly dangerous business for such seemingly eager-to-please and harmless-acting creatures.
Hogwarts had by far one of the largest and most diverse House elf colonies by far in all of Europe, if not that whole side of the world. The castle and the amount of work to do there was thankfully plenty large enough and vast enough to help keep most of the elves calm and non-aggressive towards each other. The fact that they rarely worked directly with the humans they were caring for helped in keeping the elves calm as they were far less likely to get possessive of their humans and the children rarely stayed past 7 years.
Most of the house elves that had been rehomed to Hogwarts were at least some mix of Gaelic Point, as well, which were considered to be one of the most social species of house elf. They very rarely got aggressive towards other house elves of their species and weren’t known for getting too aggressive towards elves they didn’t get along with or weren’t familiar with outside of occasional scuffles and arguments as long as they weren’t too possessive of a particular witch or wizard and were most often used for most household chores.
This was the opposite of Kreacher’s species which was known for being one of the most outspoken, aggressive, territorial, and least social of all the house elf species and that went for both humans outside of their household and elves. It required a special sort of household to house one safely and happily. If an elf wasn’t raised with another elf or the new elf around them then it wasn’t unusual for them to end up fighting the other elves to the death and were even known to hunt and cannibalize other elves non-related or raised with them. Kreacher was known for this undesirable behavior.
They were often highly aggressive or at least very standoffish towards those non-house elves that weren’t a part of their household as well or those that married in and usually became especially attached to a select few individuals. His species often tried to find ways around orders or outright ignore them if possible if given by anyone that they don’t deem to be their actual master or someone they care about or respect. It made it very difficult when a family died out or they were given to someone new as they were usually not willing to tolerate new masters. Kreacher’s species of elf was considered to be one of the hardest species of house elf to rehome.
Kreacher was an ancient, still very ‘wild’ species of elf. A Persian Pale which were named for the tufts of white or silver hair that grew out of their ears and semi-transparent ghostly stone gray to pale grey or on rare occasions paper white skin coloring they carried as adults. They usually were born a dark grey and grew paler as they aged. Persian Pales were almost always personal elves. Their intelligence and fierceness made them great protectors, excellent companions, and assistants, and they were often used as nanny elves as well. They focused more on caring for their family of wizards instead of more on everyday tasks. Unless the home was smaller, meaning a bit smaller than the mini-mansion of a townhouse Grimmauld’s place was, they didn’t tolerate other house elves on the property outside of their mates or offspring or occasionally siblings that got along particularly well. Sadly, Kreacher had lost his last living family members more than 350 years ago.
The Black family had more than given up on adding any new editions to Grimmauld the last 3 centuries outside of the occasional fool who had married in that thought they would force the issue. Not understanding that Kreacher wasn’t your average house elf and couldn’t be ordered to try and get along with the younger elves brought in or that they simply hadn’t found someone compatible yet. Also forcing the issue usually meant a brutal bloody death for the other elf.
Once Kreacher’s parents, uncle, and the rest of the already older colony had passed on Kreacher was already an older adult and had no interest or tolerance in having other house elves in his space or around his Wizards. He had killed nearly all of the elves introduced to him usually through biting or bludgeoning them to death and had even cannibalized quite a few. The only company Kreacher would tolerate in his home was of the wizarding sort and the occasional Crup.
Harry’s eyes flitted over the pair of agonized-looking house elf heads, visibly quite different in features than his Kreacher. They both had shorter but floppier and more pointed ears. They also both had long pointed noses that reminded the child of a carrot if their skin wasn’t such a strange shade of peach pink. They had more hair than Kreacher to but none of the familiar long tufts of hair coming from inside of their ears.
One had dark blond fuzz around the outside of its ears and on its head while the other had longer red stands hanging almost cutely from around the outside of the other elve’s ears and had long red lashes. That one had pretty light green eyes while the other had grey ones. Their eyes were so big compared to Kreacher’s too. Uncomfortably so. Harry wondered if they were more suited to nocturnal life than Kreacher? The elderly elf, himself, seemed to see just fine in even the darkest parts of the house at night, even while his eyes weren’t as big and wide but they reflected with an eerie red glow in the slightest light if Kreacher didn’t will them not to. Harry couldn’t hold back the endeared smile that twisted his lips nor a croon at the thought of those big red disks staring him down as he checked on Harry while he slept. Kreacher was just so sweet!
The house elves hanging on the wall of the hidden staircase were a reminder to younger generations of what happened to the poor elves they forced on Kreacher. Though some of Kreacher’s family was displayed on the main staircase by a particularly mad aunt who has been distraught over the loss Of Kreacher’s two remaining cousin's and who had been hateful and dissatisfied with the elves she had brought into Grimmauld to replace them.
After Kreacher had killed them, the aunt had cut more than one elf’s head off in dissatisfaction with them. Then she began trying to find reasons to kill the elves she brought in. Beheading them and using them as mounts on the wall for the slightest annoyance. She found all of them lacking and lesser compared to the elves she had grown up with. Expecting them to behave like her elves had. To know everything she liked and wanted and how she kept everything the moment they were brought into the home. Harry felt a little bad for them. Of course, they wouldn’t be the same as them. They were their own individuals with their own personalities and were a completely different breed than her nanny elves.
After a few years of irritating poor Kreacher with her ‘testing’ to see if they were worthy of the Black family. Where she drugged them into the elve’s space and demanded they cater to her in Kreacher’s home and Kreacher, of course, repeatedly maimed and or killed the other introduced elves the woman had declared all Gaelic Points to be of filthy stock. She insisted that they were unsuitable in every way to serve the Black family. Ignoring the fact that the family had already had several caring for various Black properties for more than 2 centuries at that point that Kreacher and the others had tolerated as long as they didn’t live with them and they had no reason to be jealous or feel like their space was threatened. It didn’t matter though as Harry’s aunt went so far as to kill most of the colony serving at Black Castle before the family had gotten her under control.
The family had dispaired over the loss in a way Harry didn’t like or understand. It had apparently been more like lamenting over losing a tool or a pet. But they had at least all been upset that the 2 elves that Kreacher would willingly interact with outside of his blood relatives had been killed at the time too. After that, he wouldn’t even try with any other elves leaving him completely alone in the home until Walburga tried bringing in a handful of her childhood elves. Which, Kreacher eventually ended up offing each in sneaky ways after Walburga had tried forcing commands with not a single loophole to try and hogtie the violent elf. It hadn’t worked of course. He had been entirely too upset that he wasn’t being allowed to serve his Orion properly and then the traitor had been being cared for by an elf he thought of as unreliable and below him. They had stolen his space, and home, and had tried to take everything from him. It must have been devastating for poor Kreacher, feeling replaced like that.
Harry didn't understand why it had been such a big deal that Kreacher preferred wizarding company to other elves. From what the elf had told him, a lot of the younger generations were dumb and didn't do much thinking for themselves. Something Harry knew would make the old elf lose his mind in irritation. Kreacher was very clever and wise and knew all sorts of things about anything Harry could ever think of. It must have been unbearable dealing with something with not even half of his wits.
When Kreacher was in a good mood or Harry found a subject the old elf was passionate about he could talk about it for hours. Harry loved it when Kreacher got that way about something he always seemed so much happier all day. He would pet Harry's hair and sometimes tell him nice stories about Regulus or when the family was in its prime. Harry felt so bad for the elf. he had seen so much and now he only had Grimmauld and Harry to care for. He knew that Kreacher grieved for it.
Harry’s mood lightened as he found the proper room. He grinned, Harry thought it stunning. The average person would have thought it was decrepit even with all of the work Kreacher had put into cleaning it up. The wallpaper was faded and curled in places and the curtains were dull, with browning stains in the spots that were clearly doxie-eaten and the carpet was worn through in places. But even when not near its best, it was all Harry had ever known and he could see how grand the home once was and would be in a few short years.
The child plopped down in the plump loveseat near the fireplace. Then pulled up his legs and sock-covered feet to curl up on it. Harry wrapped thin arms around his knees as he waited for snacks and his grandfather to appear.
It was only a few minutes after he got to the room before Ophiuchus strolled into his portrait. It was now sitting against the couch opposite of Harry instead of above the fireplace like it once had. This had been done at the portrait's insistence so he and Harry could talk without the child having to crane his neck when they spoke there. It was so the portrait could feel closer and like he was having a proper conversation. The painting sat himself down in a comfortable-looking throne-like overstuffed chair with a tuffet-like footrest. He eagerly sat forward once comfortable… or the illusion of it. As he was, of course, a portrait. The man gave the boy a dashing smile and leaned into his hand. “Comfortable darling?”
Harry’s face went red at the sight. The man could have had anyone with eyes swooning with a single look while alive with ease if just his portrait had such a powerful effect.
The man’s smile turned to a smirk as his eyes lazily roved over his many times great-grandson. “Well… There was something you were to show me…. Was there not mine darling?”
Harry lit up at the question. He eagerly pulled out his wand and presented it to the portrait. “Of course! Isn’t it lovely? Just like my dream!” Harry preened, melting at the portrait’s oohing and ahhing.
“How unusual looking, it really does look just as you described. How wonderful! Its magic chills me even as I am. How perfectly it suits you mine beauty!” Ophiuchus cooed. “Such a perfect wand for only the most suitable heir of Black!” The man continued, eyes gaining a wistful moony look to them. Harry would be positively soul-crushing. Something akin to what would be told in the most gruesome and beautiful of cautionary tales. Such a lovely horribly perfect thing two such ancient bloodlines had created when brought together. The best and worst of both lines, most definitely. Ophiuchus couldn’t have been more proud or smitten.
“If only I still lived, what a fine beauty of a husband you would have made for me! I would have worshiped you as only you deserve and I wouldn’t have been cursed with that dilute blooded wretch.” The portrait lamented. Something he did often, especially as his grandson had finally become school-age. Just a few more years and they would have been married in his day. Though such a beautiful talented boy, he likely would have allowed him his Hogwarts education before settling him down completely. Well, as long as no one tried anything too towardly with him. Harry was too magically powerful and curious to let him sit idly it would be a shame not to see him reach his potential.
Instead, he had been stuck with someone that was lesser, that he hadn’t found attractive in the least! The man’s lip curled into a wild ugly sneer as his eyes filled with hate and disgust as he remembered his 3rd cousin, a sniveling half-Goyle wretch. He had needed to use potions just to conceive with her and hardly even tolerated that he was so disgusted by the thought of creating something with the filth.
How could he be attracted in the least to her? How dare his family force him into marrying someone with such diluted blood? It was like trying to put a child in a dog for how little Black blood she carried! She took nothing after the Black family’s after all with her caramel-colored hair, weak personality, and dull grey bordering on blue eyes. She was a disgrace that somehow had the rest of the family fawning and praising calling the rosy-cheeked saccharin sweet lump a beauty and a talent. How could they force him to mix with something like that? She hadn’t even a parent who was a full-blooded Black! It had been her grandfather! Grandfather! Besides that, he had made it clear that he had little interest in any women. He deserved a carrier! He didn’t care how rare they were, clearly, the blood had mixed too much with other lines if they couldn’t produce him a single reasonably decent marital partner in all the years he had been unmarried! That or they just weren’t trying! The fact that his cousin had not only produced a carrier of reasonably clean blood and then had married him off to the LeStrange heir was infuriating. If only his darling had been alive back then!
Even while not fully a true purely clean pureblood Black like Ophiuchus, Harrison still carried good lines from his mother who was the child of close cousins from what he understood and lines from his grandmother from his father’s mother’s side. The parts that weren’t Black were either so overwhelmed by the Black blood or were so ancient and powerful and horrifyingly stunning that Ophiuchus felt none of the disgust that he had with others. Perhaps it helped that the child carried his own clean blood. Either way, Harrison was a delightful boy, positively gorgeous. Powerful, and clever, and devastatingly beautiful. That lovely spark he carried, the Black madness as it was now called, oh he was sure it would bloom into something so very incomparably lovely. After all, it was already manifesting in such a gorgeous way in that child. He couldn’t wait to see it blossom into its fullest in the boy. No other besides himself had ever been as perfectly a Black to the portrait, as his darling Harrison.
“You would make me the envy of high society.~”
Harry blushed at his many times grandfather’s praise. Smiling sweetly as the portrait waxed poetically about his love.
Kreacher popped in, filling tea cups and insisting that Harry needed to finish his reading before dinner. The elf made a face as Ophiuchus grumbled, and complained about the blasted elf interrupting the waxing of his ‘passions’ for his grandson.
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“Hey, Black! Ya cur, me eyes aren’ doing so great no more with readin’ in this here gloom….. I think Gregor’s spell got me better than I thought… so if ya’ read me tha’ obits’ and the Quidditch result I’ll let you’s keep me paper!” A roughened voice called in the gloom. There was some shuffling that could be heard echoing over the whines and tortured moans of a few of the newer residents. Then a quiet clunk as the newspaper bounced across the filth-covered floor and rolled until it settled against rusted metal bars coated in slimy moisture and a thick layer of putty consistency filth that had an oily sticky feeling to it.
“Fuck off!” A man’s voice hissed, raspy and rattly. He sat huddled in the corner on a tattered nest of what may have once been a mattress covered in a disgusting layer of black and brown. There was a spot that it had clearly been drug away from and looked like it was once covered in the fridged water that freely dribbled down the frost-covered wall that held a tiny bar-covered paneless window. It was possibly covered in a layer of mildew on the side that had once been under the window. The area under the window was also covered in a viscus stinking film and there was a small visibly rectangular spot with a noticeably thinner lighter layer of the slime.
The elderly man snorted, “I think ya’ might be wann’in ta’ see what’s been going on. Me buddy told me a little somethin’ been going on whit’ that little Potter lad.” The man rasped smugly, snickering under his breath when he heard clear scrambling and then saw a hint of a grime-covered hand clawing at the paper. Black was so easy to mess with. It was nearly not fun to do it anymore after so many years! However, it was wanker James Potter’s fault that he was in that hell. He was sure that Black would lose his mind over the death of that brat. Regardless of what anyone said he did the old man knew that Black was obsessed with that James just as much as he was with that kid after so many years or watching him and listening to him rant and rave and cry. He smirked at the thought of the bastard getting that gut punch.
Once Black got ahold of the paper he instantly scurried over to the window, squinting to see the paper with the slightest extra light it gave him. The crinkling of paper was all that could be heard for several long moments and then a shocked shout of horror.
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While he had been rotting away in that hell his godson, that sweet boy he had given his blood for had-had died or at least….. His sweet Harry was missing?! He had been placed with that horrible bitch Lily had for a sister? Why? How could they let that happen? Surely he had been abused at the best with how much of a monster that horse face and her whale of a husband were. Just-just how? Lily said she would never allow them to have him and there was no way his- no way James would allow such a thing! Not ever!
Sirius had thought that his godson was safe and happy at the very least. Placed with people who would love him, protect him, and would cherish him! With the Longbottoms or that maybe even Remus had found a way to keep him. Merlin, even being placed with Andy or Narcissa would have been better than his Harry being placed in a house with muggles, especially those two! It was all his fault! If only he had stayed… It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t right! How couldn’t they have the proper person caught and put away? Wasn’t it obvious? That fat pig of a husband of Lily’s sister was probably the culprit and even if he wasn’t then it had to be a filthy death eater that had found where his Harry was being housed! It wasn’t unspeakable magic after all.
Sirius forced down another sob, scrubbing at his face and smearing the filth across his hollowed cheeks. He hadn’t thought he had another tear to give until he read the headlines in bold letters across the front page proclaiming Harry Potter’s case of being missing from Hogwarts having updates. Updates, when Sirius didn’t even know anything was amiss! That his godson had been missing and that the paper had an anonymous source stating that the child’s hidden Muggle family was under suspicion.
Dumbledore had stepped in and did his best to straighten out the situation when harsher accusations appeared. Insisting that he had often visited and he believed that the boy’s family had felt overwhelmed by the responsibility of raising a famous wizarding child and that he had found the child a more suitable home and that the boy needed time to adjust before he was brought to Hogwarts. That he would be starting school as soon as he had settled in. Even Sirius could see the lies for what they were. His Harry was gone, missing, probably dead and poor Dumbledore was trying to get justice for Harry before the situation could be swept under the rug by the ministry!
“Damn it, damn it all!” Sirius hissed under his breath, beating a fist on the wall by his head. He curled up pulling the crumpled and already fading newspaper page to his chest. Hugging the picture of his godson and friends close. Printed beneath the big bold headline was a picture he never thought he would get the chance to see again. Harry’s first birthday picture.
There was a goofy smile on Harry’s chubby face and his eyes were big and happy and so innocent. They practically shined with excitement as he mashed little fists into the adorable stuffed animal-themed cake Lily had spent hours painstakingly baking and decorating for the occasion. James was preening next to the high chair and laughing jubilantly at the mess his son was making of himself. Lily was smiling and looked slightly nervous as she eyed that fist full of cake while Remus was barely visible in the background in the middle of gathering up gifts. They had been dumb enough to think Harry wouldn’t be too messy after his cake to have him tear into his gifts. Sirius remembered the day clearly, even after years of dealing with dementors. Harry had been all laughs and shrieks of excitement. The day had ended with the need of half a dozen strong cleaning spells and Harry being carted high chair and all into the shower he had so thoroughly coated himself and everything around him in frosting and cake crumbs.
How could he let this happen? He should have found a way to Harry years ago. He should have done as he promised James, cared for Harry and raised him as his own! Now he probably couldn’t, Harry, that sweet adorable child was probably dead and what if he never got justice? That he was never avenged? Sirius seethed at the thought.
For days Sirius paced, and snarled, and threw a fit, even the Dementor’s couldn’t tear those feelings away from him. He wasn’t sure how long it had been it could have been days or weeks or even months since the man had gotten the paper. The meager scraps he had been rationed had barely kept any weight on the man before and with the extra activity, he now looked like a walking skeleton, so incredibly gaunt he looked like he had aged a century! His face was so sunken one could see the ridges of his teeth through his cheeks and his temples were hollowed sockets, the skin of his torso looked shrinkwrapped around his protruding bones. Sirius froze mid-pace, eyes wild as he realized someone had stopped by the cell across from him.
“Your father sends his regards LeStrange!” A rough voice grumbled.
Sirius was stumbling to the bars immediately. Transforming before he could think too much about it and went to shove his head through the bars, knowing that he heard the rough shuck of a paper being tossed. He yelped as he ended up halfway through instead of struggling to peak out like he usually did. He froze, eyes widening. Wait….. Could he… finally get out?
Sirius forced back a hysterical wail of happiness. He was quick to squirm his way through the gap in the bars once he was sure the burly old bastard of a guard was wandered off. He stood there for a few moments, stunned at how easy it had been to get out, totally elated that he could get free, finally! That he was FREE!
“Wha’ tha? Is tha’ a-a grim?! It’s a grim! We’re about to die!” Someone shrieked in fright. The sounds of scrambling and possibly the man falling had Sirius frozen until others began yelling at the man.
“Oh, shut it Grindg! Hallucinating fuck! First, the spider infestation was Acamantulas, then sirens in the water, I wish!” A woman snarled.
“Oh, just like little Barty was some lady using polyjuice. Ya’ Nutter!” A deep voice rang out. He along with several others began laughing as the man screamed and begged them to believe him.
Sirius bolted after that happily using the noise and distraction to his advantage. Running running running until he was outside and then he threw himself in the water feeling too ecstatic, too happy, and free to care about how ice cold the water was! He just had to keep going bit by bit, then he could figure out how he was going to get the person who killed his sweet baby. As long as he focused on his vengeance, on his James’ precious boy. Focused on his festering rage and hate he could ignore the agony flashing through his body. It was nothing compared to the years of pain he had endured.
End Chapter 5
So sorry it took so long to write this my life has been nuts! Also, I have been trying forever to get the pic of grandpa portrait even slightly right. Not loving how he turned out but he isn’t as bad as he was and yes I got lazy on his clothing. I should have just done a line drawing I know for sure I could have done a good job then, was already super invested though.
If you want to read more about house elves that I wrote look below!
The Galic Point variety was by far the most popular species found serving the pureblood households around the United Kingdom. Kreacher wasn’t a Gaelic Point. He wasn’t even part and was instead a now very rare purebred Persian Pale named after the light-colored hair that often tufted from the insides of their ears.
One could usually tell the approximate age of a Persian Pale due to the unique lightening of their skin as they got older. Most Persian Pales started out with an almost stone grey colored skin that as they aged could become a near translucent buttermilk cream to paper white. It was rare but they even sometimes became so pale that their skin became so see-through that one could sometimes see hints of bones and organs. An unusual sight for a creature that most often could be found in high sun, high heat areas such as in Iran, the Arabian Emirates, Libia and Turkey though they actually preferred to be in cooler cavernous places. They were surprisingly not very prone to burning from the sun.
It was a very rare occasion that a Persian Pale was born with the semi-translucent and paper-white skin of the elder and were considered kingly gifts to give. It was believed that they were particularly aggressive and independent even among Persian Pales, which were considered to be one of the most aggressive species of house elves in the world. They were thought to also be especially attentive, protective, intelligent and magically powerful and would bring a family generations of prosperity as long as the elf was treated with respect and dignity and lived a long life.
Kreacher had been such an elf and his parents had been brought with the Black’s from somewhere in the former Parthenian empire to what would eventually be known as France then Kreacher was born not that long after the family had immigrated from France to what wasn’t even called Britain at the time and had been given to the heir at the time who had later became a great lord Tarik which later became Black.
The Egyptian Kohl were also quite rare and often seen in such households but they although more reserved and less likely to just accept any elf joining a household were much more like the Gaelic Point in temperament than the Person Pale which was known both as one of the rarest and also most aggressive species of house elves left in the world and were considered one of the closest and most unchanged breeds when compared to their origin. Only the most respected and oldest magical Middle Eastern, occasional South Asian and rare Greek or Italian families had Persian Pales, usually those of or descended from royal blood. They were guardians and fierce protectors and were both clever and deadly.
The one thing that Kreacher’s species was most known for was their tendency for jealousy and possessiveness when it came to their humans and to not tolerate sharing space well with other house elves, especially of more docile species. It often was near impossible if one didn’t live in a place comparable to a palace to keep more than one or two possibly a few more only if they were related or raised together.
They were highly territorial and unlike other house elves still had much of the original instincts in them for hunting and maiming. So much so that it was not uncommon for them to kill the more docile species of House-elves that they had little tolerance for and sometimes for them to even eat them. Kreacher had been especially bad about this and had killed any elf that had been introduced/made to live in the house with him after the others he had been raised with or that had been raised with him had died. He had gotten to a point where he could communicate with and interact with elves outside of the house to some extent but they often were elves mixed with other species or with less skittish temperaments. Gaelic Points were just too skittish and excitable for the old elf
Like the Nott’s head elf who was a rather old Norwegian Curl, the Nott’s were one of the very few families left outside of Scandinavia with any just like Kreacher was likely the only Persian Pale in the United Kingdom, possibly even in most of Europe. The Nott head elf was stern, intelligent, and was sly and outspoken for a house elf and had enough of the Norwegian Curl temperament to keep Kreacher’s cannibalistic tendencies from acting up and making the old elf mistake him for easy prey not that Kreacher had ever been particularly friendly with the other elf or even liked him at all.
The Norwegian Curl, like the Persian Pale, had often been used as not only personal servants but protectors. That particular species was often used as protection for the wives, children, and properly while the yorls and their men were out at sea. So the fiercer the better. Especially with the ridiculous amounts of Violent blood feuds That happened between families during those times. Sadly they too had gone mostly out of fashion in most of northern Europe and were now mostly found in Iceland and in the most traditional of Scandinavian homes. Oddly enough they have had some resurgence in parts of Alaska, Canada, and Montana where they were popular with homesteaders, ranchers, and small multi-generational hunting villages.