Douglas shot a glance at Harry inside the room before turning to Kreacher. "Let me introduce you. That's my nephew, Harry Potter—also Sirius's godson. Do I really need to say more?"
Kreacher's voice trembled as he replied, "Is it true? Is he truly Harry Potter? Kreacher didn't see the scar… Is he really the boy who stopped the Dark Lord? Kreacher doesn't know how he managed it…"
His reaction was oddly intense. Lupin could clearly hear surprise—perhaps even a flicker of joy—in the old house-elf's tone.
Dobby, picking up on Kreacher's excitement, suddenly looked moved, as if he'd found a kindred spirit. He blurted out, voice quivering with feeling, "Yes, yes! Every house-elf knows—Harry Potter means everything to us, the humble and enslaved folk of the wizarding world. Dobby hasn't forgotten what it was like, back when You-Know-Who was at his strongest. Wizards treated us house-elves like vermin. Dobby's grateful to have found his master.
For those who once thought the darkness would never end, Harry Potter is a beacon of hope.
And of course, there's Dobby's own master. Dobby will make sure the world knows how great he is! Kreacher, you must believe—there is hope for the future. Dobby will stand with you…
Even if the Dark Lord returns, my master will defeat him. And so will Harry Potter…"
Douglas couldn't help coughing awkwardly at Dobby's blatant flattery.
Lupin struggled to keep a straight face, while even Harry, who was still exploring the room, suddenly felt the urge to crawl into a wardrobe and disappear. Sirius cheerfully clapped Harry on the shoulder, then shot Douglas a look of mock disdain. He knew all about Dobby's Muggle butler classes—he'd even peeked at the notes, which included tips on how to flatter your employer without them noticing.
Kreacher, on the other hand, looked utterly revolted, his face twisted with scorn and disgust. He recoiled from Dobby's outstretched hand as if it were contagious. To Kreacher, Dobby's words were nothing short of sedition—a house-elf wearing clothes was the ultimate betrayal.
He couldn't bear it any longer. Afraid Dobby's "corruption" might rub off on him, he hurried for the stairs.
Douglas called after him, "You should believe Harry can handle anything Voldemort throws at him."
Kreacher paused, muttering, "I don't know what you're talking about…"
From inside the bedroom, Sirius's impatient voice rang out, "Don't bother with him. He's just a senile old fool—been half-mad since before I was born, always following my crazy mother's orders. His mind's been gone for years. If you want something, go find it yourself. I told you, anything in this house is yours for the taking."
Lupin asked, "What exactly did the Dark Lord give Regulus that you're so interested in? Does Kreacher have it now?"
Douglas simply shook his head, offering no explanation.
He glanced around, then moved in the opposite direction from the stairs. Kreacher, who'd already reached the landing, noticed and hesitated, his gaze flicking toward a particular door.
Douglas followed that look and strode straight toward the door Kreacher had glanced at.
A small, imposing nameplate was fixed to the wood, the paint below it deeply scratched. In neat, handwritten letters, it read:
No Entry Without Explicit Permission Regulus Arcturus Black
With a flick of his wand, Douglas unlocked the door to Regulus's room.
Kreacher let out a ragged howl. "How dare you! How dare a Mudblood open young master's room!"
If it weren't for the defensive magic shimmering around Douglas, Kreacher would have hurled his own magic at him—guest or not, last male heir or not.
Still in his own room, Sirius heard the commotion and stormed out, furious.
"You miserable old git! Didn't I tell you—if you use those three words again, you're out of this house for good!"
Kreacher panted, sobbing, his eyes glued to Douglas's every move, but he kept muttering, "Oh, poor Kreacher didn't hear Master's order… Of course, whatever Master says is right…"
As he spoke, he began banging his head against the stair rail.
Douglas curled his lip. Even now, the old elf's mouth was as foul as ever.
With a wave of his wand, Kreacher floated into the air, limbs rigid, able to move only his head.
Douglas turned to Sirius with a weary sigh. "Can't you keep quiet for one minute? I'm not even in a rush—why are you?"
Sirius rolled his eyes. "What exactly are you looking for? Isn't the whole house big enough for you to search? Why come straight here? There's nothing in his room you'd want."
He hadn't heard the earlier conversation and had no idea why Douglas was so intent on Regulus's room.
Harry ducked behind Sirius, struggling to hide his amusement. Earlier, Sirius had warned him this room was full of magical traps and bizarre objects—he was certain that, even with all his defenses, Douglas would end up getting the worst of it.
He'd known Douglas for ages and had never seen him outwitted. So when Sirius set this little trap, Harry was ready to watch the fireworks.
But curiosity got the better of him. "Who are you talking about? Whose room is this?"
Sirius replied flatly, "Regulus. My brother."
Harry blinked. "You have a brother? How come you've never mentioned him? Where is he now?"
"Dead," said Sirius, his tone expressionless.
Harry's face fell. "Sorry—I didn't know."
Sirius shook his head. "That foolish idiot joined the Death Eaters. Didn't you research the Black family? Surely you know what kind of wizards my relatives were?"
Harry looked embarrassed. "Sorry, we didn't dig that deep. Were your… your parents Death Eaters too?"
Sirius shook his head. "No, but they believed Voldemort's ideas were right. They wanted to keep wizard blood pure, get rid of Muggle-borns, let pure-bloods seize power. They weren't alone—before Voldemort showed his true face, plenty of people agreed with him on some things. But once they saw he'd do anything for power, they started to back away."
He gave a cold, bitter laugh, glancing at Kreacher with disdain. "My parents probably thought Regulus was a brave little hero for joining up from the start."
Whether it was because Douglas had stopped him from self-punishing or because Sirius's words hurt, Kreacher was now weeping openly. Still, after Sirius's sneer, he croaked out, "Master Regulus was a hero. He was a hero… It was Kreacher who failed him… It was Kreacher…"
Sirius snorted, then turned to Harry. "See? Everyone thinks he's a hero."
Harry hesitated, then asked, "Was he killed by Aurors?"
Suspended in midair, Kreacher trembled even harder, as if desperate to speak but clutching his mouth shut.
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