Under Draco's gaze, Kreacher slowly emerged from the corner and lowered himself in a bow.
Perhaps because he was the elder one, or perhaps because of the refinement of the Black family he came from, his manners were far more proper than the courtesy Dobby had shown Draco earlier.
Still, he seemed even worse at taking care of himself.
A filthy strip of rag was enough to describe what he was wearing. In fact, saying he was almost completely naked would not be much of an exaggeration.
It was also easy to see that, like all House-elves, his head was bald, but his two bat-like ears were sprouting thick tufts of white hair.
And aside from those bloodshot eyes and that gray, unhealthy-looking skin, the most noticeable feature of the House-elf in front of them was his large fleshy nose. At first glance, it looked almost like a pig's snout.
This quiet, taciturn House-elf, the complete opposite of Dobby, was the one who had recently sought refuge with Narcissa because she carried Black blood.
In other words, this was the Kreacher Draco had once heard Dobby mention.
"So you're Kreacher?"
Unlike Pansy and the others, who had noticed nothing, Draco had sensed a second magical presence in the room the moment Dobby appeared, and he had immediately spotted Kreacher hiding in the shadows instead of coming out.
As for why he was hiding there.
Was he shy?
Or worried about something?
In any case.
Even though Draco did not know why Kreacher refused to show himself, he had clearly seen the way Kreacher's body stiffened the moment Dobby called his name, and how the muttering under his breath, too low for anyone else to hear, had abruptly stopped.
Draco straightened up.
"So what were you doing just now?"
At Draco's question, Kreacher lowered himself again even more deeply, so deeply that his pig-like nose nearly touched the floor. The gesture was so exaggerated that it looked almost absurd.
But Kreacher seemed not to care at all. In a rough voice like a bullfrog's croak, he barked, "Kreacher has served the noble House of Black all his life. Kreacher can see the glory the Black family once had in young Master."
After saying that strange, rambling line that sounded almost like a chant, he immediately began muttering again, loudly enough for everyone else to hear.
"Compared to young Master, that one is nothing but a hateful, ungrateful, low creature of a wizard. He even broke his mother's heart."
"...."
Draco finally understood what Kreacher had been muttering about while hiding in the corner. It was nothing more than this kind of furious abuse directed at some wizard.
Although he had no idea who the person Kreacher was talking about was, it was obvious that none of those descriptions were meant kindly, and Pansy and the others could only exchange bewildered looks.
What kind of House-elf went around with insults for wizards constantly on his lips?
Could it be that any House-elf who stayed around Dobby was just as abnormal?
...
Although Draco was curious about who the person Kreacher had mentioned was, and also about why Kreacher's attitude toward him seemed oddly special, he did not ask right away.
More precisely, what happened next interrupted the question he had been about to raise.
Hermione raised a hand.
"That person is..."
"A Mudblood is talking to Kreacher as if she were Kreacher's friend. If Kreacher's mistress saw him with someone like that... oh, what would she say?"
Even Draco had not been prepared for that.
Just as Hermione was about to ask something, those words came straight out of Kreacher's mouth.
Even though he was still lying prostrate on the floor, there was not a trace of respect in his tone.
The contrast was so extreme that it made people wonder if they had heard wrong.
Compared with Hermione and Dobby, who did not react strongly to the word Mudblood itself, Pansy and Astoria were already on their feet, their faces full of anger.
"You are not allowed to say those words!"
"Shut your mouth!"
Pansy herself probably had not expected those two words to make her this angry.
And Hermione, realizing what was happening, immediately rushed forward and wrapped herself around Draco's arm, because while Pansy and the others were only speaking sharply, Draco had already pulled out his wand.
There was no need to guess what would happen next.
Realizing that, Hermione, feeling both pleased and conflicted, hurried to stop him.
"Don't! He probably didn't mean any harm... he was just talking to himself. And I don't mind."
"..."
"Besides, don't we still have things to do? This isn't the time for something like this."
Draco did not believe Hermione failed to understand what the word Mudblood meant, and from the expression on her face, it did not look as though she were simply forcing herself to endure it for the greater good.
So faced with Hermione like this, Draco, who no longer even knew how to stay angry, could only poke her forehead irritably with a finger.
"Fine. I'll look into this properly later."
Covering her forehead, Hermione gave a silly, ingratiating laugh.
"Ehehehe..."
"I say, Granger, did you forget we're here too?"
"Ahem."
Pansy's airy voice and Astoria's soft cough made Hermione freeze for a few seconds before she walked back to her seat as though nothing had happened.
If not for the bright red tips of her ears, you might really have thought the girl who had just clung to Draco's arm and acted spoiled was not her at all.
...
The environment a person grows up in, along with the way their parents teach them, is bound to shape their values and the way they see the world, at least to some extent.
And clearly, Kreacher, who had given most of his life to the Black family, naturally carried in every word and every action the beliefs of an old noble house.
Among them, pure-blood supremacy was one of the Black family's former traditions and guiding principles.
"It looks like you're going to have a hard time getting along with Kreacher, Hermione."
"Huh?"
Draco quickly realized that, and tried to dispel any thought Hermione might have of getting closer to Kreacher. As for that so-called House-elf Promotion Association, it was better not to bring it up at all.
Lowering his head, Draco looked at Kreacher, who still lay flat on the floor, as though he really were just muttering to himself.
So that person... was Sirius Black?
In Draco's mind, the image of that uncle of his, who had barely said a single word, suddenly flashed across his thoughts.