Green & Gold

***

“Number 12 Grimmauld Place! Hedwig!”

Jasper waited for the fireplaces before him to stop spinning before he carefully grabbed Isabella and stepped out of the one that was in front of them.

“Woah.”

‘Woah’ was right. The two of them stepped out in to a large room that was decorated so richly that Jasper had a hard time understanding it was meant to be a library at first. The walls were painted a deep crimson color, and there were golden metal bookcases lining all the walls aside from the one that held the fireplace they had just stepped out of. Every shelf was packed with hardback books that had Jasper itching to start reading.

Isabella stumbled forward as the fire behind them flared with a bright green once more and Alice gracefully stepped out.

“Wow,” she said.

“This- this is Harry’s house?” Isabella asked. “I don’t get it.”

“This is one of Harry’s houses apparently,” Alice said. She eyed the thick curtains appreciatively. “Can you smell the magic, Jasper?”

He could. The house smelled so incredibly dark and cold, it was mesmerizing. It almost was thick enough in the air to wash away the smell of Isabella’s human blood.

Jasper had barely taken a step towards the bookshelf closest to him when the library door was thrown open and... something... came charging at him.

“THIEF! KILLER! REPORTER! DEATH EATER SCUM!” The thing started swiping a silver knife at Jasper. Isabella screamed and Alice carefully pulled her to a corner and crouched protectively in front of her. Jasper moved swiftly away as he was the one being chased, he had his legs bent as he prepared to attack the...

Elf.

Jasper was fairly certain that the short, scrawny, wrinkly thing with the bat like ears and giant luminous eyes was a house-elf. He’d only read about them briefly in a History of Magic, but Harry’s instructions made sense now.

“Wait! Stop! Here!” Jasper brandished the photo in his hands towards the elf. “Harry said to show you that!”

The elf stopped and squinted at Jasper as it kept the knife raised in one hand and reached for the photo with the other.

“Is this a trick?” it croaked.

“No,” Jasper answered quickly. “I swear to you. We are friends of Harry’s, he sent us here to keep her—” he gestured towards Isabella, “-safe. I swear it.”

The elf studied the photo, its large yellow eyes flickering between the photo and Jasper rapidly. “That does sound like my good Master. Master Potter is very kind and protects even disg- muggles.”

“Harry’s your... your master?” Isabella asked softly. “Does that mean you’re Kreacher?”

The elf drew himself up to his full height, which barely cleared Jasper’s waist, and puffed its thin chest out with pride.

“I am,” it Kreacher said. “Kreacher is not greeting my masters guests properly. Welcome to the home of the brave and noble Mister Potter. Will master be coming soon?” Kreacher glanced hopefully towards the fireplace.

“He can’t,” Isabella said, her emotions just as guilty as her voice was. “He’s busy... I think he’s planning on hunting down a couple of bad vampires.”

Kreacher laughed, a low and throaty noise, “That is just what Kreacher knew Master Potter would be doing. Allow Kreacher to get Masters friends some refreshments.”

“They’re vampires,” Isabella blurted before she blushed a dark red that had Jasper quickly putting as much space between them as he could. “Um... sorry... I just... I’ll be quiet.”

Kreacher gave Isabella a scathing look of annoyance. “Kreacher knows they are nast- vampires.” Alice giggled as she caught what had sounded like the beginning of an insult. “Kreacher is getting them blood of a sow, they will not be drinking human blood in Kreacher’s kind Master’s house, Master would be most disgusted. Will the muggle be wanting blood as well?”

Jasper thought that perhaps Kreacher was Harry’s biggest fan.

“Ugh, no,” Isabella shuddered. “I’m fine, thank you though, Kreacher.”

Kreacher narrowed one eye at her before nodding. “Kreacher will be getting muggle drinks for you, ‘I’m fine’ is meaning you are not fine.” He pointed a long finger in Jasper’s direction, “Do not be breaking my masters things or Kreacher will be bringing back the knife.”

The three of them watched with interest as Kreacher popped away, presumably to find ‘refreshments’.

“He took your photo, Jasper,” Alice said.

“He can take that up with Harry,” Jasper told her, having no intention on fighting with the violent little house elf.

“This... this is weird, right?” Isabella scooted out from behind Alice and gazed around the library with wide eyes. Jasper had been focused on not being stabbed by Kreacher, and hadn’t paid any particular attention to the girls emotions. He could sense them now, she was miserable, worried, guilty, sad, and scared. Jasper cringed at her emotional state and sent heavy PEACE towards her. He watched as she relaxed before giving him an accusing look.

“I don’t want to be peaceful,” she snapped.

“And I don’t want to feel your needless guilt,” Jasper spread his hands open, “so here we are.”

Isabella huffed out a sigh, but began tentatively looking around the room.

“This is insane,” she breathed. She grabbed a dusty book off the shelf and gawked at the cover. “It’s like I stepped in to some sort of fantasy novel. Well,” she cringed as she corrected herself, “I guess it’s more like a horror story right now.”

“They’re going to be fine, Bella.” Alice stepped over to her friend and put a small hand on Isabella’s shoulder.

“Can you see that?” Isabella asked her. “Do you see them being fine?”

“Wellll, no,” Alice admitted with an annoyed crinkle of her nose. “But that’s because Harry’s messing everything up.”

“Harry is helping,” Jasper said curtly.

“You know what I mean,” Alice said.

He did. But he didn’t care to hear how Harry was blocking the only assurance of his own success right now either.

Jasper walked slowly around the room, trailing light furious over the spines of hundreds of books, some of which were certainly older than even he was. Alice was talking quietly with Isabella, assuring her of Edward’s abilities and the certainty that he, Harry, and Emmett would ‘finish this quickly’.

Which Jasper reverently hoped.

Jasper was pulling an interestingly furry book off a more recently pursued shelf, ’The Monster Book of Monsters’, when Kreacher returned.

“For Master Potter’s muggle.” Kreacher snapped his fingers and a silver goblet full of something that smelled disgusting floated to Isabella.

“And for Master Potter’s pet vampire’s,” another snap of his overtly long and bony fingers had two silver goblets filled with pig blood floating to Jasper and Alice.

“Thank you, Kreacher,” Alice said sweetly, ignoring the jab about being a pet of some sort. “This was very kind.”

Jasper couldn’t sense the elf’s emotions at all, but he thought he looked as if he were pleased by Alice’s praise.

“Kreacher is only doing his job,” he said. Isabella gingerly sat down on the edge of the chair and scrutinized Kreacher over the top of her glass.

“What is your job?” she asked. “You call Harry ‘Master’, why?”

Kreacher scowled, an expression that Jasper thought was entirely too comfortable on his leathery face.

“Kreacher is a house-elf, Miss, Kreacher does what his Master tells him to do.”

“Do you get paid?” Alice sipped her blood easily and folded herself down on the floor beside the fire.

“Kreacher does not get paid,” Kreacher said. “Kreacher is a good house-elf.”

“So you’re like a slave?” Isabella gasped. “That’s... that’s terrible Kreacher!”

Kreacher ground his little sharp teeth together while Jasper watched with a detached sort of interest.

“Kreacher is not a slave,” the elf growled. “Kreacher is a good house-elf and serves the brave and noble Master Potter proudly. AND,” Kreacher raised his voice over Isabella as she went to speak up, “Kreacher will not be answering more insulting questions! Come! Kreacher will be showing the muggle where she can be sleeping.”

Isabella shot Alice a panicked look, but Alice was all too happy to have a distraction from the white gaps she was seeing in the future. The three of them carried their drinks and followed Kreacher out of the library.

“You should not be being in Masters library while he isn’t here,” Kreacher said as they walked down a dimly lit hallway. “Master is liking to destroy his library, he will not be liking if you are doing it.”

“Why does Harry like to destroy his library?” Isabella asked, her previously anxious emotions being overtaken by curiosity, wonder.

Kreacher stopped on the staircase he was leading them to and glowered at Isabella. “Kreacher is not talking about Master’s secrets to a muggle.”

“What about me?” Alice chirped cheekily. “I’m not a muggle, Kreacher.”

Kreacher seemed torn for a moment before he petulantly crossed his arms and shook his head, his bat-like ears flapping as he did so.

“You is trying to trick Kreacher,” he accused Alice. “Kreacher is keeping Master Potter’s secrets. He,” Kreacher pointed at Jasper, who took a small step backwards in surprise, “is being with my Master. But Kreacher is not telling him Master’s secrets either, oh no. Kreacher is a good elf.”

Jasper would have asked how Kreacher knew about his position in Harry’s life, if it had not been made abundantly clear once they reached the upstairs hallway.

Kreacher was absolutely, undoubtedly, Harry’s number one fan.

The long hallway was painted a clean white color, a musky odor of something dead hidden under the scent of fresh paint. And hung up on the long hallway, plastered in dozens of erratic and uneven frames, was Harry.

Well.

Articles about Harry.

“‘The Boy Who Lived Goes to Gryffindor’,” Isabella read the article title closest to her aloud.

“‘Harry Potter: Deranged and Disturbed?’” Alice laughed.

“‘Harry Potter’s Secret Heartache’,” Isabella giggled. “Why is Harry in the news so much?”

Jasper ignored the two of them and stepped over to a large framed photo of Harry, looking rather like a roguish mugshot, and raised his brows.

WANTED FOR THE MURDER OF ALBUS DUMBLEDORE: 10,000 GALLEON REWARD.

Beneath the curious title was Harry, ruffling his hair, scowling at the camera, and generally looking entirely too attractive for a man accused of murder.

“That is Kreacher’s favorite photo,” Kreacher said gleefully from beside Jasper. “Kreacher is knowing Snape is killing the old man, but Kreacher was hoping Master did it instead.”

“You were hoping that Harry killed someone?” Alice asked, peeking over Jasper’s shoulder. “Why?”

“Kreacher is not liking the old man,” Kreacher said darkly. “The old man is keeping secrets and forgetting that Kreacher’s masters are not toys.”

“Masters?” Jasper looked away from the photo of Harry he had committed to memory and raised a brow at Kreacher. “Does someone else live here?”

“Not anymore,” Kreacher’s ears drooped. “Kreacher used to have the honorable Master Regulus and the nas- the-” Kreacher took a deep breath, “thegoodMasterSirius,” he said in a single rushed breath. “And now Kreacher only has Master Potter.”

“Aww,” Isabella gave Kreacher a pitiable look that the elf bristled at.

“Kreacher is not needing a Master here, he is being very busy helping the Missus Weasley with cooking at the Burrows, but...” Kreacher pulled on one of his ears and gave Jasper a beseeching look, “but when you are seeing Master Potter will you be telling him Kreacher is... Kreacher is missing his madness and would like a visit to see he is still breathing?”

Jasper bit his lip and nodded solemnly, “I will absolutely tell Harry that you miss his madness.”

Kreacher showed Isabella and Alice to a bedroom suite. “This is for the Granger and Weasley, but Kreacher will be letting you stay here.”

He pointed to another doorway and gave Jasper a severe look. “This is Master Potter’s room, and before that it was Master Sirius’. You will not be changing or breaking anything or Kreacher will be breaking you.”

Jasper swore not to disturb a single thing. He took a cursory glance in the room, not eager to part from either his sister nor his responsibility, but he was caught off guard by the room.

“I thought Harry was gay?” Isabella said uncertainly.

Question 652: Why on Earth is Harry’s bedroom decorated in posters of scantily clad women?

After Isabella denied being tired, they retired to what Kreacher referred to as the ‘sitting room’.

Which was as opulently furnished and dimly lit as the rest of the house.

“Harry is rich,” Isabella said slowly. She gazed around the room before nodding and repeating herself. “Very rich.”

“Will you be okay if I go upstairs to try and see?” Alice murmured to Jasper, too quietly for Isabella’s hearing. “If I focus I can see flashes of Edward and James, but Harry must be using magic consistently to have him so hidden from me.”

Jasper looked hesitantly to where Isabella was curled up on a couch, her emotions tense and anxious.

“Go,” he told his sister.

Alice gave him a sparkling smile, “Thanks, Jazz.”

Jasper watched her leave and sighed. He much preferred Harry to be the one calling him Jazz.

“Am I bothering you?” Isabella asked quietly.

“No,” Jasper lied. He grabbed a book at random off the single bookcase and settled in to a chair.

Jasper attempted to ignore both Isabella’s anxiety and his own worries.

If Harry said he would be fine, then Jasper had to believe he would be fine. He thought of the articles Kreacher decorated the upstairs hallway with and reminded himself that Harry had survived much worse before.

“Jasper?”

Jasper forced himself to very calmly look up from the book on his lap to Isabella. “Yes?”

“Are you worried about them?”

Jasper pictured the determination in Harry’s eyes. He looked past the anxiety flowing out of him like an unstoppable river. Harry was strong. Harry was a survivor. Harry was incredible.

“No.”

And he willed himself to not be lying.

The four of them made for odd housemates the next twenty four hours as they waited for the hunt to start.

Alice isolated herself in the room Kreacher gave to her and Isabella, willing herself to try and see around Harry’s magic, through Harry’s magic, or anything besides Harry’s magic.

Isabella tentatively explored Grimmauld Place. She could hardly even begin to understand the magic that went in to a place like this. She ran her fingers across the tapestry in one room, curious about the burn marks on the wall. She tried to mask her fear for Edward, Harry, Emmett and even Rosalie, by satisfying her curiosity at that magic that Harry came from.

Kreacher did his part by keeping Master Potter’s muggle friend fed with muggle food. He told her about the Black family when she came asking, and he was truthful when he said Harry was the greatest master he had ever known. He stocked more blood from a sow for Master’s vampires. And Kreacher even did his very best not to insult Master’s friends, he hoped they would tell Master that when they saw him again.

Jasper read. Jasper read every article in the upstairs hallway, articles that he was sure Harry would destroy when he discovered them (‘Master is not being here so Kreacher is taking the elf heads off the wall and hanging up stories’). After he finished the articles, he turned hungry eyes towards the library. This could be his only chance to learn as much about magic as he could, and if it kept his mind from picturing how small, soft, and frail Harry sometimes seemed, then all the better.

A silver stag came gliding through the walls, transparent, yet almost solid to the eye. It was beautiful. Jasper hesitantly reached a hand out to stroke the magic that smelled so like Harry, but the stag stopped out of his reach and turned its impossibly magnificent face to his.

“We’re starting now,” Harry’s voice echoed out of the stags mouth, drawing a gasp from both girls. “I can’t text and fly, but Edward said he’ll keep you updated Jazz. Don’t touch anything cursed and seriously- go outside if you need to reply to a text or make a call. Be safe.”

“What was that?” Isabella asked breathlessly.

Jasper glanced down at the text from his brother, not daring to reply if Harry’s multiple warnings were to be trusted, which Jasper was certain they were.

Harry’s flying.

Jasper let a small smile turn his lips up; if he was trapped here on human protection duty, at least Harry was flying, something Hermione told him was once the greatest passion in his life.

“That is magic,” Jasper said. “Pure magic.”