The Son of Light of the Snake House

"Of course it's Kreacher!" Kreacher got up from the ground, "Only Kreacher can help Master Regulus!"

"Master Regulus offered to recommend Kreacher. It's an honor, Master Regulus said, an honor that belongs to him and Kreacher. Kreacher must do whatever the Dark Lord asks...and return...home. Kreacher whimpered again: "The Dark Lord trusted Master Regulus, and Master Regulus trusted Kreacher, so Kreacher went."

"Where have you been? Where has the Dark Lord taken you?" Sirius asked.

"In a cave by the sea. Deep in the cave is a cave, and there is a big black lake in the cave..."

Kreacher's hoarse voice seemed to come from the dark underwater, filled with fear and trepidation. "... there was a boat... on the island and there was a basin full of a...potion. The Dark...Dark Lord made Kreacher drink it..."

The house-elf was shaking from head to toe.

"Kreacher drank, and while drinking, he saw something terrible...Kreacher's body seemed to be on fire...Kreacher cried for his master Regulus to save him, and he cried for his mistress Blake , but the Dark Lord just laughed, put a box into the basin, filled the basin with more potions, and rowed away alone..."

"Then how did you come back?" Sirius didn't believe that the Dark Lord would let him go so kindly, or tell Regulus to take him back.

"Kreacher needed water, he crawled slowly to the edge of the island, and drank from the black lake... many hands, dead hands, stretched out from the water, pulling Kreacher underwater..."

"Then, how did you escape from the Yin corpse?"

"Master Regulus told Kreacher to come back, so Kreacher came back." As if he didn't understand what Sirius said, Kreacher raised his ugly head and looked at it with his big, bloodshot eyes. Sirius, constantly explaining in vain:

"Master Regulus asked Kreacher to come back," he replied.

"You mean..." Sirius was about to refute him—could a lowly house-elf be able to use magic that the Dark Lord couldn't break through—and then it occurred to him that it seemed possible.

The teleportation of the house-elf can ignore the sealing magic of any wizard, which is ignored by almost everyone. It sounds incredible. This is a good way to steal money from the goblin vault at will.

But the reality is: poor people (or people without family background) can hardly own house elves, they are always controlled by nobles, and nobles don't look down on these lowly and dirty tool people at all, nobles always think They're the ones on top, and they don't even realize that the house-elves' magic takes precedence over theirs.

"Of course Voldemort would have considered that the activities of the house-elves were entirely under his watch, just as all pure-blood wizards treat them like animals...it would never have occurred to him that house-elves had magic that he did not." Little Thoughtful, Sirius deliberately ignored the fact that he was also one of them.

"The highest law of a house-elf is his master's order," Kreacher drawled. "Master asked Kreacher to go home, so Kreacher came back... But... Master Regulus, he asked Kreacher to take him to the cave, to the cave where Kreacher once went with the Dark Lord..."

Sirius waved his hand and interrupted him.

Don't listen to the latter.

It was nothing more than his kind-hearted stupid brother, for the sake of the innocent house-elf, in order to escape the wrath of the Dark Lord, he drank those potions himself and became a member of the Infernal Corpse, but this disgusting house-elf back home.

"Master...Master Regux took out a box similar to the Dark Lord's from his pocket," Kreacher said, tears streaming down both sides of his big nose. "He told Kreacher to take it with him, and to change the box once the stone basin was empty..."

Kreacher's whimper turned into a high-pitched cry, which was harsh, but Sirius didn't care - his heart was bleeding from the words

"He also ordered ... Kreacher to leave ... him. He also told Kreacher ... to go home ... not to tell the mistress ... what he had done ... and to destroy ... the first box. He drank Dropped... all the poisons... Klee cut out the box... watched... master Regulus... being dragged under the surface... being..."

You're so stupid, Regulus... You don't have to do this at all... Before long, the Dark Lord will be killed by the Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter, and you can live easily Go down, or do your righteous deed.

Sirius drove away the crying Kreacher, leaning his back against the wall behind him, he slid down little by little, buried his head between his knees, and bent his back.

After an unknown amount of time, he raised his head again. It was dark again, and the whole room was pitch black. He sat there lonely, and then suddenly remembered an important question.

"Kreacher! Where did you hide the box you brought back!"

Kreacher appeared again with resentment on his face. He had washed his rags and wiped away his tears, but he still had to reveal the location of his hidden locket.

"In the living room cupboard." Kreacher couldn't disobey the orders of the Black family, though he was so reluctant to say so.

A moment later, Sirius held a large gold souvenir box in his hands. He let out a "ha" and threw out the other rubbish. Reorganize it a little bit.

Watching all this, Sirius suddenly felt a little unbearable, he coughed: "Put this away."

He took out the ordinary fake locket from the pocket of his robe, and there was still a provocative note written by Regulus himself in it.

Then he threw it directly into the arms of the house elf, and considered his words in his shocked eyes: "This thing is for you, you can hold it however you want."

He stepped out, ignoring Kreacher's stuttering, "Even if Master Sirius gave Kreacher this, Kreacher wouldn't..."

Sirius stopped at the door and tilted his head slightly: "Your master is very happy for you. As a thank you for doing all this, this thing belongs to you."

Then he closed the door behind his back, shutting the house-elf's wailing inside, and raised his head again—he still had a family, and he couldn't be depressed any longer.

The author has something to say:

Sirius: I don't feel sorry for him, I just don't want to hold this thing.

Kreacher: Sirius, my Superman.