his sagging eyes.
“Harry, let him up!” Hermione whispered.
“So he can beat himself up with the poker?” snorted Harry, kneeling beside the elf. “I don’t think
so. Right. Kreacher, I want the truth: How do you know Mundungus Fletcher stole the locket?”
“Kreacher saw him!” gasped the elf as tears poured over his snout and into his mouth full of
graying teeth. “Kreacher saw him coming out of Kreacher’s cupboard with his hands full of
Kreacher’s treasures. Kreacher told the sneak thief to stop, but Mundungus Fletcher laughed and r-
ran … “
“You called the locket ‘Master Regulus’s,’” said Harry. “Why? Where did it come from? What did
Regulus have to do with it? Kreacher, sit up and tell me everything you know about that locket, and
everything Regulus had to do with it!”
The elf sat up, curled into a ball, placed his wet face between his knees, and began to rock backward
and forward. When he spoke, his voice was muffled but quite distinct in the silent, echoing kitchen.
“Master Sirius ran away, good riddance, for he was a bad boy and broke my Mistress’s heart with
his lawless ways. But Master Regulus had proper order; he knew what was due to the name of
Black and the dignity of his pure blood. For years he talked of the Dark Lord, who was going to
bring the wizards out of hiding to rule the Muggles and the Muggle-borns … and when he was
sixteen years old, Master Regulus joined the Dark Lord. So proud, so proud, so happy to serve …
And one day, a year after he joined, Master Regulus came down to the kitchen to see Kreacher.
Master Regulus always liked Kreacher. And Master Regulus said … he said …”
The old elf rocked faster than ever.
“… he said that the Dark Lord required an elf.”
“Voldemort needed an elf?” Harry repeated, looking around at Ron and Hermione, who looked just
as puzzled as he did.
“Oh yes,” moaned Kreacher. “And Master Regulus had volunteered Kreacher. It was an honor, said
Master Regulus, an honor for him and for Kreacher, who must be sure to do whatever the Dark
Lord ordered him to do … and then to c-come home.”
Kreacher rocked still faster, his breath coming in sobs.
“So Kreacher went to the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord did not tell Kreacher what they were to do, but
took Kreacher with him to a cave beside the sea. And beyond the cave was a cavern, and in the
cavern was a great black lake … “
The hairs on the back of Harry’s neck stood up. Kreacher’s croaking voice seemed to come to him
from across the dark water. He saw what had happened as clearly as though he had been present.
“… There was a boat …”
Of course there had been a boat; Harry knew the boat, ghostly green and tiny, bewitched so as to
carry one wizard and one victim toward the island in the center. This, then, was how Voldemort had
tested the defenses surrounding the Horcrux, by borrowing a disposable creature, a house-elf…
“There was a b-basin full of potion on the island. The D-Dark Lord made Kreacher drink it …”
The elf quaked from head to foot.
“Kreacher drank, and as he drank he saw terrible thing … Kreacher’s insides burned … Kreacher
cried for Master Regulus to save him, he cried for his Mistress Black, but the Dark Lord only
laughed … He made Kreacher drink all the potion … He dropped a locket into the empty basin …
He filled it with more potion.”
“And then the Dark Lord sailed away, leaving Kreacher on the island … “
Harry could see it happening. He watched Voldemort’s white, snakelike face vanishing into
darkness, those red eyes fixed pitilessly on the thrashing elf whose death would occur within
minutes, whenever he succumbed to the desperate thirst that the burning poison caused its victim …
But here, Harry’s imagination could go no further, for he could not see how Kreacher had escaped.
“Kreacher needed water, he crawled to the island’s edge and he drank from the black lake … and
hands, dead hands, came out of the water and dragged Kreacher under the surface … “
“How did you get away?” Harry asked, and he was not surprised to hear himself whispering.
