Kreacher was cleaning one of the vitreous cabinets when he heard his name being called from downstairs.
“Kreacher! Come down here!”
He recognised the voice as Regulus’, and quickly climbed down the pile of cushions he had been using as a ladder. Then, he hurried down the staircases as Regulus was calling for him a second time. He stumbled and fell to his master’s feet where he stayed lying for a second until someone kicked him in the back, bringing him to his feet again.
“Thank you, mistress,” Kreacher croaked.
Regulus was sitting at the kitchen table and waited for his mother to leave the room until he started speaking. “Kreacher, I need you to do something for me.”
“Anything, sir!” Kreacher anxiously straightened up to look into his master’s eyes.
“The Dark Lord – you know who the Dark Lord is, Kreacher?”
Kreacher nodded eagerly. “Of course Kreacher knows, sir! The Dark Lord who’s going to rule out the Mudbloods and blood traitors, Kreacher knows!”
Regulus nodded and got up from his chair. He circled around Kreacher and leaned forward. His eyes pierced through Kreacher’s, who was blinking nervously. “The Dark Lord requires an elf. I’m going to bring you to him tonight. It’s a great honour for our family. Whilst you’re with him, you are to obey any order that he might give you. Is that clear, Kreacher?”
Kreacher nodded. “Of course, sir.”
“Good. As soon as you’re finished serving him, you’ll come straight home.”
Kreacher nodded again.
Regulus straightened up. “We are leaving in a few hours, when it’s dark outside. Meanwhile, get your towel fixed up. Stitch the snags, make sure there are no stains. It looks like you’ve resided the last years in our dustbin.”
When Kreacher was finished polishing the grey towel he was wearing to look almost light grey, he went back to the cabinet to finish the job his mistress had given him. But when he was just finished piling the cushions back onto each other, he heard Regulus coming up from downstairs. He was wearing his best robes and nervously stroked the fabric. “Okay, Kreacher, let’s get going.”
He looked at the cabinet and a crease appeared between his eyes. “Oh, dear, Kreacher, Mother will have your hands ironed for this mess.” He looked outside. “Anyway, we have to leave now. We’re disapparating from my room.” He grabbed Kreacher’s arm and dragged him to the door. Before he went out of the room, however, he paused, and drew his wand out of his robe. He gave it a quick wave and at once, the pillows went back in place and the cabinet was cleaned.
When Kreacher had realised what Regulus had done, he squeaked, “Oh, thank you, master!”, and bowed his head.
Regulus shrugged and shut the door. Together, they walked down the staircase. “Kreacher will still iron his hands, though, sir, for the inconvenience he has caused his master.”
“Hush.” Regulus directed Kreacher into his room. “Just don’t mention it to anyone. And do me the favour and focus on the task that lies ahead you. It would be very embarrassing for me if it was my house elf that caused the mission to fail. You’re not going to disappoint me, are you?” It was phrased like a question, but opined as a command.
Kreacher nodded and told his master that he was surely not going to shame the family, but Regulus didn’t seem to hear him. He stroked his hair back and grabbed Kreacher’s shoulder. “Okay. Saint Mary’s Abbey Church, Kreacher. Let’s go.”
Kreacher nodded. With a snap of his fingers, they disapparated.
They apparated into the middle of a green field, a couple of trees standing close. There was no sight of the Dark Lord, but a couple of wizards were standing between the trees, which seemed to surprise Regulus. He walked over to them and frowned. “Avery, Mulciber, what are you doing here?”
“Been ordered here.” Avery gave Kreacher a derogatory look. “What did you bring the elf for?”
“He asked for it.” Kreacher could sense the tension between the three, but before anyone could say anything, a dark figure appeared a few metres away, which didn’t go unnoticed by Regulus or Avery and Mulciber.
Regulus grabbed Kreacher’s shoulder and dragged him forward. Avery and Mulciber followed, and the closer they got, the more Regulus had to drag Kreacher because he couldn’t move his own legs any more. His eyes grew wider as more of the Dark Lord's face came into view, the very man he had been admiring ever since the day the mistress had started talking about them; he had never dared to think that he might meet him one day... But before their eyes met, Kreacher rapidly lowered his head and looked at the ground, not even looking at the sorcerer’s shoes, until Regulus stopped walking and pushed him down until Kreacher bowed. His nose almost met the ground, and he didn’t raise his head until Regulus jerked him backwards.
“Very well,” said a cold, yet soft voice. “Avery, Mulciber, wait in front of the church for my orders.”
Soft steps signaled feet moving away..
“Thank you, Regulus.”
“Thank you, my lord.” Regulus was still kneeling on the ground. “I’m sure he will be a good servant. His name’s Kreacher.” The Dark Lord looked at Regulus, then at Kreacher, who lowered his head the second the black eyes reached him.
“Come over here, elf,” the Lord said coldly.
Kreacher made a few steps forward, carefully glancing over his shoulder at Regulus.
“Fine, Regulus. You can go back to the others.”
“F—Forbid me for asking, my lord, but why are they here?” Regulus inquired, his voice shaking. “Is there – Is there something else you want me to do?”
“Precisely.” His voice was high, Kreacher noticed, higher than he had imagined it. “There is a reason we met here, of all places. I presume you know the Fenwicks, don’t you?” The way he emphasised the word ‘Fenwick’ sounded like when Walburga Black said ‘Mudbloods’.
“I think Benjy Fenwick was in Hogwarts with me, yes.”
“Well, Hogwarts or not, the word is that him and his cousin still uphold the Muggle traditions they have once learnt. They’re unfixable... It so happens that they attend a church service every Sunday night. Wait for them when they leave, but don’t cause any turmoil. I’d rather have this go unnoticed.”
“We’ll make short work of them, my lord.” His voice was firm but even in the dim light Kreacher could see that his face had gone pale.
After a last glance at Kreacher, Regulus turned around, leaving the elf at the mercy of Lord Voldemort.
The Dark Lord turned around and gestured for Kreacher to follow him. They walked maybe half a mile into the woods, until the Lord stopped and whispered something in Kreacher’s ear. He then grabbed the arm of the elf and within a second, they had disapparated.
Kreacher had to blink several times until he was able to see where exactly they where. It was dark and his eyes weren’t accustomed to the dim light. But the Dark Lord didn’t give him much time to find his way. He gave him a little push and Kreacher stumbled after him. The ground was slippery and stones pricked his toes. A wand enlightened above his head, so he could finally see where they were going. The place was surrounded by rocks; there was no sign of the sky anywhere, just a tiny shimmer of moon light reached the ground. Not far away, Kreacher could hear the waves as if from an ocean. They were getting closer to the water, and Kreacher’s skin twitched. He didn’t like water very much.
They arrived at a large lake. With sunlight this place might have been a nice spot, but at night it looked nothing but daunting to Kreacher who shivered when as much as rain touched his bare skin.
Kreacher watched the Dark Lord stretching out his arm and conjuring a small boat from the depths of the lake.
Voldemort directed him onto the boat that was now floating in the water. When it started to move, Kreacher covered his head in his arms, fearing to fall out and be exposed to the dark, mysterious liquid. The Dark Lord didn’t even seem to be aware of his presence. He was sitting motionlessly and gazed into the water.
Kreacher opened his eyes again when the boat stopped. The Dark Lord got out of the boat and Kreacher clambered after him. They had arrived at something that seemed to be no more than another large pile of rocks and stones, creating an island. When they reached the top, Voldemort drew a small, silver chain out of his pocket and considered it for a moment. Before Kreacher could take a closer look, however, he was pushed forward and was staring into a large, dark basin that was filled with a mysterious liquid.
“Go on,” said a soft voice behind him, the chain tinkling rhythmically. “Drink it.”
Kreacher bent forward. The liquid didn’t look too bad and there was a tempting smell surrounding the basin. A pale hand appeared next to him, offering him a small cup. Kreacher put the cup inside the basin, filled it with the liquid and emptied it at one swallow.
The moment the potion stopped his lips, the luscious smell disappeared and Kreacher burst into a loud scream, forgetting who was standing behind him, forgetting why he was here and forgetting that Regulus had told him to obey the Dark Lord’s orders.
There was a dark shadow. It was hovering over Kreacher and slowly started to shape into something that looked like a knife – No, a large scythe and it got closer and closer to him... And another shadow appeared, the silhouette of a person Kreacher knew... She was carrying the scythe and heaved it above Kreacher’s head.
“No!” Kreacher screamed. “No, Mistress Black, please!” He stepped back from the basin and crashed into the Dark Lord, who pushed him away.
“Go on, elf,” he hissed.
Shaking, Kreacher filled the cup yet again. And again, the potion, burning in his throat, turned the one shadow into a crowd of shadows that were now circling him.. The scythe approached his neck, the cold metal burning his skin. He heard his mistress laugh.
“No!” he shrieked. “No, Mistress!” Then he saw himself, crouching in a corner. He looked ugly and his bones were falling out of his skin. The shadows were clouding over him, Kreacher covered his eyes, he didn’t want to see any more, or hear, or taste any more of that potion. “Regulus! Master Regulus!”
No one came. Regulus... Master Regulus had told him to obey the Dark Lord’s orders. Kreacher’s shaking hand reached out for the cup and drank some more of the potion, as Voldemort ordered him.
He forced all of the potion down his throat in one go, and collapsed on the ground once he had swallowed. “No!”, he whimpered, “No more, please!”
A cold laugh sounded above his head. The laugh turned into Mistress’ laugh, and Kreacher squirmed on the ground, slowly getting up to fill the cup again.
The basin didn’t seem to get any emptier, and by the time that Kreacher got close to the end, he was too paralysed to notice it. Only when he tried to fill the cup one last time, and wasn’t able to catch any potion with it, did he collapse on the ground and stayed there, waiting for the Dark Lord to tell him to get more of the potion...
But he didn’t. The Dark Lord stepped over him. Kreacher blinked several times and saw that he put a locket, attached to the silver chain into the basin. Then he drew out his wand, and stepped back from the basin.
Kreacher’s throat was itching. He needed water, desperately, so much that he almost dared to ask the Dark Lord if he could get him some water. But Voldemort already went down to the boat, leaving the elf behind. Kreacher tried to get up to follow him, but Voldemort entered the boat and sailed away before Kreacher even got to his feet.
His eyes were burning; Incapacitated, he stayed lying on the ground for a few minutes, but the thirst got stronger and Kreacher knew that if he didn’t get any water, he was going to die.
He crawled down to the island, moving closer to the lake. There, he was going to drink some water and he was going to feel better. Then he could get back to Master Regulus, like he was ordered to.
He drank a good bit of the lake, and when he was just starting to feel better, a large hand suddenly appeared out of nowhere – no, not one hand, but several hands, multiple hands, countless hands and they were reaching out for Kreacher. And with the hands came bodies, dead bodies, and they began crawling towards Kreacher, surrounded him... And they dragged him down, deep under the water where Kreacher couldn’t breathe and he knew that he was going to die...
But Regulus... Regulus had ordered him to come back... Ordered him.... Kreacher had never disobeyed an order in his life, he wasn’t going to die unless his master ordered it.
He closed his eyes and with a Crack, he had disapparated. The masses of water disappeared as well as the dead bodies around him, as well as the dark island with the potion, and he was back home, in Master Regulus’ bedroom, and he crawled under the bed and, wet as he was, he fell asleep there.
~~~
Things had changed the day that Kreacher had come back from the mission with the Dark Lord. Regulus made him stay in the house and not go anywhere, and Regulus’ behaviour changed from day to day. Kreacher didn’t know what was going on. Regulus was speaking less and less about the Dark Lord, but he was very interested in what Kreacher and him had been doing on the island.
Then the day came that Regulus asked Kreacher to take him to the cave.
They arrived at the rocky island the same way Kreacher and the Dark Lord had; but when they came to the basin, it was Regulus who took the cup out of his pocket and put it inside the potion.
“Listen, Kreacher, this is important,” he said, taking something out of his pockets. It was a locket, much like the one the Dark Lord had. “When this basin is empty, you switch the locket, and you take the one that was in here and keep it safe. Then, you’ll go home without me. Understood, Kreacher? I’ll stay here. And when you’re home, you have to destroy the locket. You understand that, Kreacher?”
Kreacher understood.
“And you mustn’t tell Mother what happened here. You keep the locket to yourself. Don’t show it to anyone. Clear?”
Kreacher nodded.
“Alright, Kreacher.” Regulus took a deep breath, and filled the cup.
“But sir!” Kreacher squeaked.
Regulus frowned. “What?”
“Master can’t drink this!” Kreacher shook his head. “It will make master see … terrible things. Kreacher can’t let it happen!”
“I must drink it,” Regulus said. “And you, Kreacher, you must not try to stop me, no matter what I say or do. You must make sure that I drink all of this.”
Before Kreacher could say anything, Regulus had filled the cup and put it at his lips. He swallowed, and, just like Kreacher, he started screaming an instant after the cup was empty.
Kreacher stood there, paralysed, watching his master empty cup after cup, watching the basin getting empty, and watching his master getting weaker with every drop of the potion. He wanted to remove the cup from Regulus’ hands, he wanted to go home where he could clean cabinets and Regulus would be in his room where he was safe. But as he was ordered, Kreacher didn’t do anything, he just waited, waited for the basin to be empty.
When it finally was done, Regulus was crying and weeping on the floor, and Kreacher tried to go to him, but Regulus just shook his head. “Take the locket,” he croaked. “Do as you’re told.”
Kreacher nodded, took Regulus’ locket and changed it with the Dark Lord’s, and then went back to his master.
“Kreacher will help master,” he muttered. “Kreacher will make sure no harm is done to Mr Black.”
But Regulus shook his head. “Go,” he whispered. “Go home. Destroy the locket. You must destroy the locket. And no one can know.”
He crawled towards the lake. “I need water,” he croaked. “You need to go home, Kreacher. Go home.”
A hand appeared in the lake. Kreacher’s eyes widened. “Master mustn’t go in there! Master mustn’t drink any water of the lake!”
Regulus didn’t listen; he kept crawling towards the water, towards the dreadful creatures that dwelled in the water, and Kreacher, he couldn’t do anything but to stand there and shake his head in horror. “No,” he whispered to himself, pressing the locket against his chest. “No, Kreacher won’t let it happen – ”
The next moment, a hand shot out of the water and reached for Regulus, followed by thousand others...
Kreacher jumped down to give his master a hand, but Regulus, still looking at him, shook his head. “Stay up there, Kreacher!” he screamed. “Go home, destroy the locket. You must destroy...”
A hand grabbed him and another one followed suit; they were pulling him beneath the surface, and Kreacher watched his master disappear in the black lake. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he felt clearer again; he had to do as he was told, he had to go home.
When he arrived at Grimmauld Place, he went straight to Regulus’ bedroom and hid under his master’s bed, where he put the locket in front of him. His eyes wanted to cry, but Regulus had ordered him to destroy the locket, so that was what he was going to do first.
But perhaps there were still a few tears falling down on the golden surface.