Harry watched the children for a moment, then said quietly, “Kreacher?”

  The house-elf sidled out of the door behind him, making sure to stay on the stoop. That kept him from leaving the protection of the house’s wards and spells, and out of sight of any by-passers or neighbors. Harry supposed there had to be some limit to the neighborhood’s tolerance.

  The elf was wearing a simple jumper, with Regulus’ locket dangling on his chest, jodhpur pants, and cloth slippers with curly toes, all either designed or magically altered to fit him comfortably. All were in black today, head to toe. The only colors were on the locket, and the large, ornate, embroidered letter ‘P’ in Emerald green on the breast of the jumper.

  Unlike the late Dobby, Kreacher did not start out choosing his own clothes. At first this had been a minor form of rebellion. If he did not choose the clothes, he could not be blamed for having to wear them at all. This changed as Lily got older. She took it on herself to control Kreacher’s wardrobe, first as a headlong toddler, demanding Kreacher wear ‘the pretty shirt’ or ‘the stripey pants.’ As she grew, she began picking out his clothes altogether, with Kreacher finally joining in, mostly in self-defense. And now, though he would never admit it, it was one of his favorite activities.

  Kreacher was looking embarrassed and abashed. “Kreacher is sorry, Ma.., Mister Harry. The young ma.., mister would not listen...”

  Harry interrupted, “Kreacher, I’m not mad at you either. I know you’re doing your best. It’s hard to change the habits of a lifetime in just a few years. But you ARE in charge when we’re gone. And I know you have magic enough to do what is needed. And you have our blessing to do it. So you are going to have to be brave, and do what has to be done.” Harry sat down on the stoop so that their heads were at the same level, something he made a habit of doing with the elf.

  Kreacher relapsed into his sotto-voce muttering, something he only did nowadays when he was very upset, “If Ma.., Mister Harry would just ORDER Kreacher...”

  “Kreacher, we made a deal. No one can give you orders any more. You stay here because you want to, no other reason. We need you, yes. We would hate to see you go, you are a part of this family.” Harry was trying his best to avoid calling Kreacher a “Free Elf.” While he had agreed, very reluctantly, after years of effort, to accept a salary and wear clothes, the actual words still offended him.

  Kreacher started to twist one of his ears, then desisted as he looked up and caught Harry’s eye, mumbling, “It’s hard, so hard.., no Master for Kreacher, poor Kreacher...”

  Harry shook his head. “What makes this so hard for you? I have seen your magic, and it is strong. At the Battle of Hogwarts, you blasted the doors off the kitchen so thoroughly, there wasn’t a piece larger than the palm of my hand to be found.” Harry grinned. “Filch was furious. ‘That was supposed to be impossible! Those doors were made of the hardest wood in the world. They’ll have to be rebuilt from scratch. I don’t know if magical Australian Buloke Wood even exists anymore.’ ”

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  Kreacher sighed. Harry continued, “But, strength aside, the control you have... No one noticed it at the time, but afterward, while the Ministry were trying to sort out who did what? One of the reports listed everyone killed and injured, and the causes.” Harry looked over at the small, elderly, feeble-looking elf. “Lots of people were injured by pieces of that door. A significant number died. And every one, every single one, was a Death Eater.” He gave a crooked smile. “I can’t even imagine...”

  The pair were silent for a long while.

  “So,” Harry said finally. “What is it? It’s not strength, and it’s not control. I don’t believe for a minute that you are afraid you might hurt one of the children. What makes someone like you unable to deal with an untrained, wandless, eleven-year-old?”

  Kreacher hunched into himself slightly. Another silence slid by. Harry reached over, and put a gentle hand on Kreacher’s shoulder. He felt the elf slowly straighten up. He finally spoke.

  “Master Regulus was a good boy, but proud. Master Sirius was...,” he hesitated. “...not a bad boy, but angry, always angry. And they would fight. Sometimes words, sometimes magic, sometimes wrestling, or fists. Kreacher’s Mistress would not let Kreacher stop them. ‘Boys fight,’ she would say. ‘Let them fight.’ One time Kreacher asked her if girls fight, too. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But girls fight mean. Be glad we have boys.' ”

  Kreacher’s ears perked slightly, and then drooped back. “This was before the school and the Houses and the bad times. So I was glad we had boys.” He looked up. “Then it was the school and the Houses, and the bad times were coming. The fights got fewer, but worse. And Kreacher’s mistress would sometimes let Kreacher...” he hesitated. “...let Kreacher.., interfere. In little ways. Distractions, interruptions, treats. But only when Kreacher’s Mistress would order Kreacher.”

  The elf slumped again. "Kreacher is sorry, Ma.., Mister Harry. Kreacher needs orders. So hard. So hard for Kreacher.”

  “I know,” said Harry. “I know it’s hard.” Suddenly a new approach occurred to him.

  “Look here. Let’s try this. Kreacher, who do you have to listen to, who do you have to obey?”

  In the dull tones of someone reciting rote-learned material, the house-elf said, “Kreacher has to obey no one, Kreacher can come and go as he pleases, Kreacher is not a slave...”

  “Yes, yes. But that’s not entirely true, now is it? There is one person that you do have to listen to, one person that can make you do anything.”

  Kreacher shook his head slowly, ears wobbling slightly. “Kreacher does not understand, Ma.., Mister Harry.”

  “Kreacher, you believe there are only masters and house elves, right?” The elf nodded slightly. “But you are not bound to the house anymore, are you? So what does that make you?”

  “Kreacher... is a master? Who can Kreacher be the master of?”

  Harry smiled at the perplexed expression on the face in front of him. “You are the master of yourself, Kreacher. Just like everyone else in the world.”

  “Kreacher... is Kreacher’s master,” the hose-elf said tentatively. “...because Kreacher HAS to listen to Kreacher. Because if Kreacher does not tell Kreacher what to do, nobody else will...” His eyes widened alarmingly. “KREACHER can give Kreacher orders! And Kreacher has to obey because Kreacher is Kreacher’s master! And Master Kreacher would be angry if Kreacher failed...”

  “Slow down, slow down,” Harry grinned at the awe-struck elf. “Just promise me you will be a good master.”

  “Master Kreacher promises, he does! Kreacher will be the best master any house-elf could want!” He hesitated. “What should Kreacher order first?”

  “Well, if it’s suggestions you’re looking for..?” The elf nodded vigorously, ears flapping. “Keep an eye on Al and Lily. Bring them in after the hour is up, release James from the Body Bind, and have the three of them help you with supper. And if James gives you any more trouble, well, I’m sure a clever master like yours could tell you what to do, right?”

  Kreacher grinned toothlessly.