Find Yourself

Kreacher had a new Master. He could finally feel a healthy bond radiating through his mind and the elderly elf all but sobbed with relief. It would be okay now. This time he would do better, he promised himself. He would not let the Young Master down the way he let down Master Regulus. His heart still hurt from the loss of the younger Black brother, but now he had something new to focus on, something that would keep the madness and loneliness at bay. With renewed purpose Kreacher went about cleaning the #12 Grimmauld Place. He knew his Master would arrive soon. He had to. And then Kreacher would do his best to keep him protected. It would all be okay, the House Elf told himself.

And perhaps that was when Kreacher jinxed himself, because when the Master finally arrived, it was as if he was a totally different person. Kreacher expected a strong young Lord. But what was standing in front of him now, was anything but. The young man had a somewhat vacant look in his emerald green eyes. Eyes that previously shone with power and life were dull and lifeless. The somewhat steady rise and fall of his chest was the only indicator that the young Lord Black was alive.
Clearly, his task would be difficult. Kreacher reached out, grabbed the wizard by his hand and all but pulled him inside, it didn’t do to talk on the porch after all. Any amount of people could be potentially spying on them.

Harry could feel a small clawed hand on his, pulling him into the house and then into a seat. He didn’t care much. His mind was too busy trying to process things. The man sat in the big armchair near the fireplace and stared at the way the flames danced and lapped at each other. He didn’t pay much attention to the insistent chiming of the floo or the howling wind outside, much less the somewhat concerned looks thrown at him by the ancient looking house elf or the painted likeness of the late Lady Black. All he really had the attention for was the crackling fire and the ice slowly melting in his drink. The man sighed heavily and leaned back in his seat, never removing his gaze from the fire. After some time he tilted his head to the side and looked at the huge tapestry that covered nearly the whole wall. The thing looked better than anything else in the room, or probably in the whole house actually.

Harry chuckled bitterly, looking at where his name, or rather what should have been his name, was etched onto the fabric.

“Even my name is not actually my name.” His fingers clenched tightly around the glass. “How little they must have cared about me, that they didn’t even bother telling me my full name.”

But oh, things were much more serious than just his name. The fact that his name was the only one present on the tapestry was all the proof that he needed. All that he desperately denied at the bank was in fact true. This knowledge made Harry feel even more alone. A small barely there keening sound left his mouth.

Some time after the floo stopped flashing, the banging on the front door started. Harry grit his teeth and closed his eyes. Perhaps if he ignored it, it would go away. The House Elf looked from his Master to the door and back again: “Does Master need Kreacher get the door?”

Privately, the old Elf thought it wouldn’t be good to leave the young Lord to drink away his problem, whatever that problem was, but he did not know the man well enough yet. He could not risk getting clothes, so soon at that.

Pained green eyes drifted in the general direction of where the door was and the man silently shook his head: “I am not ready to talk to whoever that is.” His throat felt raw from crying. “Can you tell them to come back tomorrow please?”

Reluctance was written all over his face, so Kreacher asked for confirmation: “Is Master sure? Kreacher can just send them away.”

A drawn out sigh echoed through the big largely empty living room: “Yeah, Kreacher, I’m sure. Whoever that is, they must really want to talk with me, so I very much doubt they will stop their efforts after just one try. And I don’t really feel like listening to them banging on the front door all night. Thank you for caring enough to ask.”

With a firm nod the old creature left to do his Master’s bidding. And if he felt rather gleeful making the Muggleborn witch that was banging on the door come back another day, well, that was his little secret.

Hermione Jean Granger was ready. All weekend, the Weasleys had been trying to reach Harry after he seemingly went out for groceries and vanished. He did not return home, he did not answer any of the Patronus messages they tried sending, and he did not respond to mail.

If she stopped to think even for a moment, her logical self would tell her that surely it was not a mortal sin to want some peace and quiet now and then. Unfortunately for her friend, however, Hermione’s logic seemed to be on vacation today. Molly, Ron, and Ginny were all very panicked and that made the bushy haired witch rather anxious to talk with Harry and understand what on Earth happened.

Hermione did not expect the door to be opened, much less by Kreacher; the ever unpleasant House Elf. Still, she was being let in and that was all she needed.

“Master is not in a good mood.” Kreacher told her, clearly not in the mood for talking, at least not with her.

Hermione’s first reaction was to insist that Harry surely wasn’t his Master and Kreacher was free, but she knew this would not come over well. Her campaign for the House Elf Rights was her only failure to date. Not only were the wizards refusing to free their slaves, but the Elves themselves were not eager to be free. No matter how long she thought about the issue, it just made no sense to Hermione.

But today was not about the prickly Elf; today was about her best friend whom she hadn’t seen in something like half a year at the least. She strode through the house, noting how much better it looked compared to when she was here last. The witch found her quarry in the living room. It was like stepping into a different reality. While it was rather early in the day, the room was bathed in darkness. And her friend, sitting just out of reach … looked like he aged years in just a few months. Hermione’s worry grew. She carefully approached the still figure and knelt next to the armchair.

“Harry, are you okay?” She asked and mentally smacked herself. Of course, he wasn’t okay. That much was very obvious. It seemed like Harry was so out of it that he didn’t register her approach, for the sound of her voice made him visibly jerk, like a puppet whose strings were damaged.

Unfocused green eyes met hers and Hermione shuddered. These eyes alone told her much about how not okay Harry was.

“Hermione?” His voice was scratchy and quiet and yet it all but echoed in the rather empty big room.

Her heart felt like it was breaking, but the witch did her best to try and give her friend an encouraging smile. “Hi, Harry.”

Silence fell again. It was filled with a great many things: hope and fear being the most prominent ones.

Hermione kept quiet because she wanted to let her friend pull himself together. The wizard in question, however, was tense and very much afraid of what the witch would tell him next.

A little bit to the side, Kreacher watched the silent interaction and literally rolled his eyes. His Master was being an idiot again. He thankfully did not need to interfere, for Mistress Walburga did it for him. “Oh get on with it already! No one wants to waste the whole day watching you two stare at each other like mindless cretins!”

Perhaps it was not the most elegant ice-breaker ever, but it did manage to make both young adults chuckle slightly before the portrait of Lady Black became the recipient of two equally unimpressed stares.

“Well, no one is making you watch! In fact, we’d much prefer it if you did not.” Hermione’s retort was so classically Hermione that Harry gave her a small tearful smile.
“What brings you to Grimmauld, Hermione?” He asked, even though he certainly dreaded the answer that he might receive.

“Are you kidding?” The witch arched an eyebrow in a way that strongly reminded him of one deceased Severus Snape. “You’ve hidden yourself away from everyone. You’ve not responded to any of our letters! What else was I supposed to do?”

He chucked bitterly. “And so I did. Did it occur to you that maybe there was a reason for that? Or that maybe I didn’t talk to anyone simply because I had nothing to say to them?”

“Harry!” Her admonishment had that tone of scolding that set his teeth on edge, he was never particularly fond of Hermione acting like his mother. This time, however, he was not alone in his dislike. Kreacher, who was previously content to watch over his Master, was suddenly in front of the kneeling witch. This brought their faces rather close.

“Do not disrespect Lord Black in such a way!” The elderly Elf showcased a rather impressive set of gleaming white fangs that looked strong enough to do serious damage. They also went in complete contrast to the general appearance of the House Elf, but that was beside the point.

The bushy haired female was clearly about to go on a tirade if the way she sucked in air was any indication, but all Harry could hear really was the way Kreacher addressed him. “Lord Black?” He repeated carefully. “Why do you call me that?”

“Because that is what you are, Master.” Replied the Elf with a barely contained eyeroll. Harry couldn’t understand how this was possible. He distinctly remembered the Goblins telling him that he lost the Potter Lordship because he never stepped forward to claim it.

“It’s not that simple!” Hermione finally found her voice. “Even if Sirius left it to Harry, he would have forfeited it by now.” This earned her a betrayed look from Harry which made her cringe on the inside and a very hostile look from the House Elf.

“If Missy Granger cannot behave well, Missy Granger should go now.” Kreacher ground out, baring his fangs slightly at the muggleborn witch. “Kreacher won’t allow little Missy to disrespect Master Black.”

“It’s okay Kreacher.” The green eyed man whispered. “She didn’t mean to offend me.”

“Harry!” exclaimed Hermione “I just don’t want him to give you false hope, he is a House Elf after all. Surely, the Ministry knows better.”

Harry knew she meant well, but it hurt to see that even after all these years Hermione’s faith in authority and the people in charge was nearly unshakable.

Kreacher gave Hermione an offended sniff and focused on his Master. The girl was unimportant in the grand scheme of things. “The Goblins can tell you, Young Master.”

“The Goblins?” Harry parroted. “But they mentioned nothing of this when I was in Gringotts last time.”

“But did you ask them, Master?” Insisted the Elf.

“I suppose not.” The wizard had to admit. “My mind was occupied with… other revelations.”

“Then perhaps Master should ask next time.” Was all Kreacher said. He was not all that inclined to share potentially sensitive information in the presence of a possibly untrustworthy woman.

Meanwhile, Hermione looked from her friend to the small creature and back again. She couldn’t help but feel as if she was actively being excluded from the conversation. The witch did not appreciate the feeling. Thus she decided to get back to the purpose of her visit. “Harry, what is going on with you and Ginny? She’s been living at the Burrow for the last couple of months.”

All that her words earned her was a rather severe frown. “Hermione, why do you ask?” He did his best to not let the panic reflect on his face, though he doubted he did a very good job of it.

“What do you mean WHY?” With her cloud of wild hair, Hermione Granger rather resembled a puffed up cat in that particular moment, all but bristling at how unlike himself the other was behaving.

His green eyes were looking over her head and frankly there wasn’t much life in them, but there was still some emotion to be found. That emotion was anger, which was strange. None of this fit into the world view of one Miss Hermione Granger. As far as she was concerned, she came here to help her friend, to save him from whatever was going on. And something certainly had to be going on. But in that particular moment, all she knew was that she was not being appreciated. And she did not like it one bit. Therefore she would make him see sense and apologize.

It was just very unfortunate for her that this was not really in the cards for her. For you see, Harry James Potter very much resembled a walking time bomb at that time. On one hand he desperately wanted his best friend, all but sister really, to be innocent in what he found out about. However, at the same time, there was this slowly unfurling part deep inside of him that did not appreciate how Hermione was treating him. The wizard kept looking over her shoulder and at the family tapestry. “You want to know what happened?” Somehow his voice sounded even and pretty much flat.

“Yes, I do.” His friend replied, her eyes narrowed at him.

“Have a look at it then. It’s all right there on the wall. Just keep in mind you won’t really be able to unlearn it once you know. And don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.” He closed his eyes and turned his head away. As far as he was concerned, the conversation was over.

The witch huffed at him and stomped over to the tapestry, giving it a quick look. She never cared for the thing. To her, it was the epitome of Pureblood bigotry. Who needed their whole family tree on display all the time? Who cared? Certainly not a modern witch like herself. If only she made an actual effort to see what it was that had Harry in such a state, if only she paid a little bit more attention, their life might have gone differently, but she did not and so it did not. Looking back at the man slumped in the chair she snapped with an eye roll, “And so what? What does it change?” Her callous response made the man flinch.

He felt deeply disappointed in the woman in front of him and yet there was also an odd sense of … almost… relief. With a deep sigh, he rose to his feet and gave Hermione a disappointed look, “If that’s all the reaction you have, then why bother asking in the first place? You don’t seem much surprised at all. How long have you known then?”

His soon to be ex-friend frowned once again, “Surprised about what?”

Harry rolled his eyes with a shake of his head, “Oh, I see. Looking at the tapestry is so offensive to you, is it? You couldn’t even be bothered to look for more than one second.” He sighed, “I don’t think you’re very interested in this conversation after all. Kreacher will see you out, Hermione. If you want to know something else about it, why don’t you ask Ginny then? She’s known about this for much longer than I have. And please, don’t bother coming back.”

That was all the signal Kreacher needed. The Elf did not wait for Hermione to make her way outside. Instead, he simply snapped his fingers and the witch vanished from the room. Barely seconds later a faint thumping noise came from somewhere outside, which told Harry that his friend was deposited outside of the building. This drew a faint, barely there chuckle out of him. He gave the Elf a small smile. “Thank you, Kreacher.”

“Master is most welcome.” Replied the House Elf with a shallow nod. “Will Master be having dinner soon?”

Harry made an effort to deny, but was firmly reminded that unlike Lady Walburga, he was not a portrait and did indeed require sustenance to continue functioning. The House Elf promptly left to prepare food for his Master. Now alone in the room, with nothing else to focus on, Harry’s tired green eyes were drawn back to the Family Tapestry.

There was one thing itching at the back of his mind. And the longer he stared, the stronger the itch became. And luckily, this was possibly a question that might get an answer. He was about to call out for Kreacher, when food appeared on top of the coffee table near the armchair.

The wizard sighed. He looked at the dishes. It was true that he hadn't eaten in a few days at least. But none of the dishes in front of him were all that appetizing to him. Before he enjoyed most of them quite a lot, but now, the sight of it just didn’t evoke hunger in him. It was strange, but not strange enough to really be a worry. Harry chalked it up to stress. He glanced at Kreacher, who was standing next to the armchair and looking at him expectantly. This was going to be a challenge. On closer inspection, Harry was relieved to notice some pieces of fruit. He picked up a piece of toast and carefully plonked some apple slices on it. As he bit into his fruit sandwich, his stomach grumbled. Clearly, he was hungry after all.

Kreacher frowned as he observed his Master. The man was eating only fruits. There was nothing wrong with that of course, but as far as Kreacher was aware, humans needed a more balanced diet. For now, however, he was just satisfied that he got his Master to eat in the first place.