CHAPTER NINETY-SEVEN;

KREACHER'S REDEMPTION

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Cassie lifted her head, chest heaving and eyes narrowed maliciously upon the wrinkly house-elf before her.

"Kreacher," she tried once more, voice wavering in its forced steadiness, "where did you get that bloody locket?"

"Disgusting," muttered Kreacher in reply, crinkling his long elf nose and turning his back on Cassie. "Kreacher will not answer any of her questions — a stain on the Black family tree, she is..."

"My father is dead," shouted Cassie, now completely out of patience after fighting with the elf for nearly an entire hour. "That means that you have got to answer my questions, whether you like it or not. Kreacher — I demand you to answer me with the entire truth — where did you get that locket around your neck?"

Kreacher twisted the necklace around his long fingers, narrowing his eyes on Cassie and clearly having a great debate within himself over whether or not to answer her. The locket that he fiddled with in the meantime was one Cassie knew she had seen before — it had been the Horcrux that Regulus Black had died to retrieve; the Horcrux that Harry should have been attempting to destroy at that very second.

So how the bloody hell did Kreacher have it?

"Master Weasley," the elf finally replied in a meek and mumbly voice, clearly ashamed in himself for being so weak. "Master Weasley gifted it to Kreacher — and he took the other one for himself, him and Harry Potter and H-Hermione Granger." It took a great deal of effort, but Kreacher said Hermione's real name instead of 'Mudblood' or something else derogatory.

Cassie's mouth parted and she furrowed her brow, taken aback and unable to form a reply. "W– you said Weasley? As in... Ron? Harry and Hermione? They've been here?"

Kreacher gave a curt nod, puffing his chest out, clearly proud of himself for knowing something Cassie didn't.

"When?" Cassie's voice was gaining urgency and she circled the counter island in the center of the kitchen, kneeling in front of Kreacher. "When did they come see you, Kreacher? Did they say where they were going?"

Kreacher shook his head this time, and his shoulders drooped as if this fact disappointed him. "Kreacher was being nice," he said glumly. "Kreacher served Weasley, Potter, and Granger meals every day they were here. Master Weasley presented Kreacher with his locket... M-Master Regulus's old locket!"

   Suddenly, Kreacher burst into loud, uncontrollable sobs and threw himself onto Cassie, using her hair as a tissue for the fat teardrops that rolled down his chin.

   "Oh," said Cassie, very unable to think of anything else to say.

   "They were so kind to Kreacher," he wailed, wiping his eyes with Cassie's shirt. "So, so kind. Kinder than anyone has been to Kreacher in years – decades."

   "Oh," Cassie said again, but this time with a tone of understanding to it. "Oh, I get it. Nobody's ever been nice to you, have they?"

   "No!" he cried with another loud wail. "Kreacher has been kicked and thrown down stairs and spat on, but never has Kreacher been treated with such kindness as Harry Potter and his friends treated Kreacher!"

"It's okay, Kreacher," said Cassie, patting the elf very awkwardly on the back to comfort him – and she could have sworn she saw the ghost of her father laughing at her from the doorway. "I-I can be nice to you, I suppose, if you treat me the same way? Is that a fair trade?"

Kreacher nodded, moving his head so quickly that unwept tears flew from his eyes and landed all over the kitchen. "Yes, Miss Black, Kreacher promises to be kind," he said, still nodding vigorously. "Is there anything Miss Black needs? Food? Water?"

Cassie cleared her throat to hide a stomach growl that occurred as if on cue and instead, shook her head. "No, actually," she said, though she hadn't had much to eat since she had fled from Hogwarts almost two days earlier, "I would just like to know, please.. what Harry, Hermione, and Ron needed. Please."

"They asked Kreacher where the locket came from, just as Miss Black did," he replied, almost politely. "When Kreacher told him the story of Master Regulus–"

"How he drank from the basin in the cave and retrieved the Horcrux?" Cassie interrupted, though rolled back onto her heels as Kreacher gave her a faint glare for cutting him off. "Sorry. Go on, then. Er... if you– if you feel like it."

   Kreacher swallowed, then nodded and continued. "Kreacher cooked for them, and cleaned for them, and even treated the Mudblood with manners– Er, Miss Granger," he corrected at a pointed look from Cassie. "They stayed with Kreacher for almost a month, but they left one day and never came back — Kreacher heard Harry Potter say something about the Ministry..."

   "Do you, by chance, have the newspaper from that day?" said Cassie urgently, her heart racing in her chest. If they had gotten caught at the Ministry, she would have had no way of knowing – she received no news of the outside world while in Hogwarts. "From the day they left for the Ministry and never came back?"

   Kreacher thought for a moment, then bustled over to a nearby bin and began to dig through the rubbish inside. "Should be here somewhere..," he muttered to himself, tossing crumpled pieces of paper over his shoulder. When he found what he had evidently been looking for, he stood up quickly, an old and wrinkled newspaper in his hand. "Here it is, Miss Black! Here it is!"

   "Thank you, Kreacher," said Cassie kindly, holding out a hand for him to place the newspaper in. "This is from the day they left?"

   Kreacher pulled out another newspaper cutting and held it up. "Yes, Miss. And this one is of the following day," he said helpfully, handing it over to her. "Kreacher saved every newspaper that said Harry Potter's name in it."

"That's nice of you," she said distractedly, for her eyes were scanning the first newspaper that Kreacher had handed to her.

The title read 'A Break-In at the Ministry!?' in large font across the top of the newspaper, but Cassie continued reading on until her eyes landed on the names that stuck out to her.

"Harry Potter [known fugitive/convicted murderer of Albus Dumbledore] was always our main suspect from the start," says Dolores J. Umbridge. "And he had been right under our noses, for an entire day... it was a scandal, an outright scandal. If I had known he [Harry] and his school-friends had kidnapped and taken the identifications of three of our Ministry workers, I would have ordered the Dementors to give him the Kiss that very moment.

"Unfortunately," Umbridge says with a forced smile, "Potter got away, as he always does. Thicknesse almost had them, though...

"Hm, well, I'm certain Potter won't make it very far; Thicknesse tracked him all the way to a location of which will remain anonymous for the security of the Ministry. We have Ministry Workers patrolling the barriers of where Potter was last spotted.

"In the mean time, we encourage you to speak up when you see something out of the ordinary and watch your backs," Umbridge concludes firmly.

As a final statement to the Boy-Who-Lived, the Minister for Magic – Pius Thicknesse – reminds Harry Potter and his friends that they cannot run forever.

Cassie absorbed the news in silence, her heart beating against her ribcage so quickly she was surprised Kreacher couldn't hear it.

Harry hadn't been caught. He almost had, but he'd escaped — somehow.

   "Merlin," she sighed, dropping her head into her hands and sinking forward onto her knees. "He's alive. They're alive. Thank you, Kreacher, so much."

   Kreacher's lips quirked up at the corners in what would have looked like a pleased smile, if it had not been Kreacher's sour face on which the smile had appeared. He bowed, low enough that his long nose grazed the wooden floor. "Of course, Miss Black. Kreacher thinks Miss Black is the nicest of all Blacks he has served— Miss Black!" he shouted and recoiled, as Cassie had sat up so quickly it looked as though she had been shocked. "Is Miss Black alright?"

   "Kreacher," she exclaimed, rising to her feet so she could pace across the kitchen floor, "Ron left Harry and Hermione a couple weeks ago, did you hear?"

   "Kreacher did n—"

   "I heard it from a portrait in Snape's office; Ron had left them and it was this whole row and everything blew up in their faces and now Harry and Hermione are on there own, except nobody can find out where the are – for good reason, I suppose – but Ron! Ron can be traced, easily – just not with any average, Wizarding magic; and so I was thinking just now, and.. well, you're an elf! You can do things we can't do, right? Kreacher, can you track down where Ron is? Find him?" Cassie spoke very quickly and without pausing, and when she finished Kreacher looked to her as if she were speaking Parseltongue.

   "Kreacher can do things Miss Black cannot," he agreed slowly, nodding. "Kreacher can Apparate places wizards can't. Kreacher can track Master Weasley, if it is what Miss Black des–"

   "Yes!" she blurted, nodding her head very quickly. "Yes, it is what Miss Black desires. Please find Ron Weasley."

   "Very well, Miss." Kreacher lifted his hand to snap away, but Cassie called for him to wait, and he looked to her expectantly. "Yes, Miss Black?"

   "Don't bring him to me, please," she instructed. "I just need to know where he is. Thank you, Kreacher, really."

   "Of course, Miss Black." The house-elf bowed once more, then snapped away with a loud crack.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Cassie spent the time between when Kreacher left and when he returned sitting in the same position; on the mildewed couch, bouncing her leg and staring at the bland wall for almost six hours (she counted the times the big hand passed 12 on the grandfather clock).

   Kreacher's snap of Apparation all but frightened her out of her seat. He wandered into the sitting room, in which Cassie had launched from the couch and rushed to meet him at the doorway, shaking with impatience and eagerness to hear what he had learned.

   "Kreacher found Master Weasley!" he said, almost as excitedly as Cassie felt. "It didn't take Kreacher too long to find where he was, but Mr. Weasley was shut in his room. Nice Lady With The French Accent tried to ease him out; even then, Mr. Weasley did not come out! He is very upset."

   "Why?" Cassie urged, kneeling to be face-to-face with Kreacher. "Is it because of his row with Harry and Hermione?"

   "Oh yes." Kreacher nodded earnestly, his already large eyes widened for emphasis. "But Kreacher told Master Weasley that Miss Black wanted to see him – because Kreacher wanted to cheer him up – and Master Weasley did not believe Kreacher! He said Miss Black was dead!"

   "He won't for very much longer," she muttered, drawing in a deep breath. She nodded. "Kreacher, I've got to go visit him. Where did you say he was?"

   "The home of Miss Delacour and Mister Weasley," he said, nodding soundly. "Kreacher thinks it is called Shell Cottage. Does Miss Black need help Apparating there?"

   "No, I think I've got it," she said, standing unsteadily. "Thank you for helping me, Kreacher. I'm not sure when I'll be back – I might bring Ron with me, really."

   "Don't be too long!" Kreacher beamed, bouncing from one foot to the other. "Kreacher will have breakfast ready for Miss Black and Mister Weasley when they return!"

   "Thank you, Kreacher," she said, giving him a gracious smile as she opened the front door. "I'll.. try to be home for breakfast."

   She didn't want to tell him she planned on following Harry and Hermione into the Horcrux hunting business with Ron, and thus would probably not be home for breakfast.

   The Death Eaters from the Ministry were still patrolling the boundaries of Grimmauld Place, so Cassie had to be careful of stepping past the front stoop. She watched the Ministry workers for a moment from her concealed spot on the porch, twirling her wand between her fingers and wondering whether one small jinx would hurt... before she decided against it and spun on the spot to Disapparate to Shell Cottage.

   Cassie had been to Shell Cottage, earlier in the year; she remembered her fight with Moony very well, cringing at the memory. When she had first visited, so many months ago, the cottage was inhabited by only Ted, Dromeda, and Nymphadora Tonks. Now, it was obvious there had been some living arrangements made, as movement came from nearly every window in the house that Cassie could see.

   On the top floor, far left room, a couple that could have either been Fleur and Bill or Andromeda and Ted were hugging, their bodies silhouetted against the candlelight behind them. In the top right, a tall, familiar figure that gave a flutter in Cassie's stomach was evidently pacing across the floor, as shown by the shadow crossing and recrossing the window.

   That gave enough motivation for Cassie to knock on the door.

   Silence fell behind the wood; the running of water and hushed voices instantly broke off, and Cassie could have sworn she felt the entire cottage hold their breath.

   Creaky floorboards proved slow steps being taken toward the entrance, low whisperings calling out to whoever had taken the initiative to risk opening the door.

   The doorknob turned slowly; Cassie swallowed; the door swung open, and before she could register who had taken the risk, a wand was jabbed into her neck.