| Puffskein
Join Date: Sep 2006 Location: Canada
Posts: 2,438
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Chapter 19
The Truth
Ginny
“Hey Harry, what took so long?” I asked as Harry sat down directly across from me.
“I got held up,” he responded as he started taking food from the table and putting it onto his empty plate.
“You just disappeared; did Slughorn stop to talk with you?” Ron asked after swallowing.
He shook his head. I tilted my head to the side slightly, confused.
“Oh please, he was waiting for that Black girl,” Hermione snapped.
My eyes flickered to her; she just spent the past five minutes ranting about how she deserved to get the title of ‘making the best potion’ in Potions. Why did Harry have to five her the opportunity to go at it again...?
“He held himself up. What did he have to say to her? To shut her trap and get over herself enough to not slow down every class she has with Malfoy?” Her fists clenched around her utensils.
“I don’t know!” Harry snapped as he started cutting into some chicken.
I eyed him suspiciously as I ate. I honestly didn’t get what he found so great about this girl; I don’t know what she’s up to, but whatever she’s telling Harry is only to get him for herself. The last time a Slytherin tried to befriend him was Malfoy in his first year. Ever since then, it’s been proven that when someone from that lot tries to befriend Harry, they’re up to something that is bound to end badly.
“Well someone should tell her,” Hermione grumbled and took a bite of her potatoes.
“Why? She does better at beating up Malfoy than all of us together!” Ron exclaimed, his mouth full of the last half of his lunch. Food splattered everywhere.
“Chew and swallow, Ron!” Hermione snapped, brushing herself clean of whatever food went flying. I picked off bits of meat from my robes. She then turned to look at Harry. “Look, Harry, what are you doing with this girl?”
He refused to respond as he swallowed and started cutting again.
“Come on, ‘Arry, you can tell us anyting.” A flying piece of potato landed on my forehead.
“DON’T EAT AND TALK!” I exclaimed taking the piece of potato that landed on me and throwing it back at Ron. He jumped back in surprise, eyes wide on me. Everyone from me and four people down the rows on both sides of the table looked at me. “What?” I snapped. They turned back to their food and started chatting warily again.
“Are you ok?” Hermione asked, an eyebrow raising.
“Yeah... I’m just not that hungry.” I pushed my plate towards Ron.
He greedily devoured everything off of it. I then got up and, taking my bags, walked out of the Great Hall, my only thoughts being what I was going to do once I got to Gryffindor Tower. I couldn’t take too long, classes start again very soon.
Once I passed through the portrait hole, I didn’t stop to even acknowledge the students that were scattered in the common room. I made my way up the stairs and into my dormitory. Thankfully, what I was waiting for had finally arrived.
“Hey Pig,” I smiled at the tiny owl and came up to him, dropping my bags at my feet. He held out his foot and hooted happily. I untied the letter from his foot, gave him a treat, and he flew away.
Gin,
Finally living up to our name, eh? We’re more than glad to help you with this.
To get into the kitchens, you have to go all the way down into the basement (not the dungeons, the regular basement. Those staircases are next to each other; one leads to the best place in Hogwarts, the other is full of scum. And I’m not meaning literally, you’ll find yourself outflanked by Slytherins if you go down there) and pass by the Hufflepuff portrait hole. When you reached that point, you’ll probably be able to see a painting of a bowl of fruit on the wall directly ahead of you a hundred or so feet away. You tickle the pear, and then it opens. The portrait hole is small, so unless you’ve grown a good 4 inches since we last saw you (what a miracle that’d be), you’ll have to crouch.
Why do you want to get into the kitchens?
~F.&G.
I smiled, proud that I thought of such an ingenious plan and it had worked out. Folding up the paper, I put it into my pocket. Grabbing my bags next, I made my way back down the flight of stairs and headed off to the DADA room for my next class.
---
Dinner had passed. Harry was in a great mood throughout the meal... that wasn’t a good sign for me. He must’ve been with that Black girl.
I finished as quickly as I could and left the Great Hall, ignoring Hermione’s calls when I did. I turned right and continued through the maze of corridors until I saw two staircases going down. Going down the one on my right, I found I was in the basement. I knew this because Hufflepuffs were coming towards me... and it isn’t as dark and grimy down here as the dungeons are.
I started walking faster and finally found the portrait hole for the Hufflepuffs. Looking beyond it and to the painting of a bowl of fruit, I smiled; Fred and George were right.
Hurrying towards it, I tickled the pear and, surely enough, it opened a door. I sighed when I found I didn’t have to crouch – they were right – and passed through the portrait hole and into the kitchen. I stopped after I was one step in. The kitchen was rather hectic; hundreds of elves were running around, pulling various foods from the ovens and putting them on a table in the centre of the room. I watched the table as some platters began to disappear from them completely, only to have their places filled by another platter.
“Dobby?” I called warily. I didn’t know the elf all that well, but I did know he would do anything to help one of Harry’s friends.
Moments later, the elf came hurrying through the crowds of other house elves and stopped before me. He looked up at me, thinking momentarily, but then smiling. “You are one of Mr. Potter’s friends?”
I nodded. I had seen the elf at least once; either he remembered me or he was clarifying I knew his most favourite person in the world.
“What can Dobby do for you, miss?”
“Harry told me he brought one of his friends here...”
“A girl who says she’s a Miss Black?” he asked, his question slow.
“Yes, exactly.”
Dobby’s expression darkened. “Dobby doesn’t know much about that, miss...”
“Then who does?” I asked, trying my best to keep my voice from sounding too sharp.
The elf grimaced. “Mr. Potter’s unfortunate excuse of a...”
“Could you get him for me?” I cut in softly, knowing it wasn’t something Dobby would like to do. Inwardly I smiled, agreeing with his thoughts of Kreacher.
He sighed. “Yes, Dobby can...” he then trudged off, dragging Kreacher back with him a minute later. The ugly elf was flailing every which way, trying to free himself from Dobby’s hold.
“Kreacher doesn’t drag Dobby to every station he need be at,” the elf complained as Dobby threw him towards me. Kreacher pushed Dobby off violently and turned to look up at me, scowling. “What do you want?”
“Information.”
“You can’t force information from me, blood traitor.”
My fist curled; my patience with this toad-faced spawn of an elf was wearing thin.
“It’s about a certain Miss Black.”
To my surprise, the elf’s eyes widened in terror. “No.”
“Pardon?” I blinked in surprise; I knew this elf had his moments, but this was ridiculous.
“Kreacher did speak with mistress yes...”
Mistress?
“But Kreacher cannot say what the beautiful young girl asked about. Kreacher cannot tell...”
“She’s the daughter of Sirius Black, why do you not refer to her as some mutant spawn?” I asked suspiciously.
“Kreacher... had a change of heart.” He realized his mistake too late to change it.
I snorted. “You love Sirius now?”
“No,” he snarled. “Kreacher is glad the unfortunate Black was destroyed. Mistress Bellatrix did a noble thing...”
“Then why do you love the Black girl so much? She’s Sirius’s kid.”
Kreacher didn’t respond.
“She is Sirius’s kid, right?” I asked, growing suspicious. Who is she, really? Is she one of You-Know-Who’s spies claiming to be a relative of Sirius’s to get close with Harry or something? How in the world did they manage to make her look so much like him, if that’s the case? It’s impossible to manage such a feat, isn’t it?
Kreacher tried to walk away, but Dobby made sure he couldn’t go anywhere.
“Who are her parents, Kreacher?” I pressed.
Kreacher looked down, cornered by my question, but still refusing to speak.
“I can get Harry down here and...”
“Anything but Potter,” he croaked, wide-eyed.
“Does he know?”
Kreacher shook his head; it was too jerky, like he was ready to believe whatever I said. Or at least put on a show...
“She IS lying!” I gasped.
“Mistress is not!”
“Then why call her mistress?” I snapped, growing irritated of this game.
Kreacher looked to his left, refusing to meet my eyes.
“What other Black is there we don’t know about?”
“You know them all,” Kreacher mumbled.
“Then which one is her father?”
Tears welled in his eyes. Harry mentioned the only time Kreacher nearly cried was when his old master came up, the one he is still loyal too...
I gasped, realization hitting me. “Regulus Black?” I whispered.
Kreacher shook his head quickly back and forth, practically trembling, but I saw he was lying.
“She is a Slytherin, right to the core, I knew it! And she’s been lying to Harry all this time... why?”
“Kreacher knows not.”
I glared. Kreacher met my eyes, his beady eyes holding mine with a fury he reserved for everyone that lived in Number 12 Grimmauld Place that wasn’t the portrait of Mrs. Black.
“Kreacher. Knows. Not,” he growled. “Mistress only asked about master. She never spoke of anything else besides master’s spawn of a brother... only in the presence of Potter.”
I sighed, frustrated. At least I got what I wanted to know.
“Thank you for your help, Dobby.”
The little elf beamed. I didn’t even bother to thank the other, much ruder elf as I turned on my heel and walked back out. As soon as I was out of the kitchens and into the basement again, I started trying to process what I’d just learned. Black is lying, but not entirely... why?
I’ll do the upfront approach first, but when that doesn’t work, I’ll start getting sneaky.
__________________ 
Siggy from Lissy and Anna's Shop of Super Frazzling Graphics
Last edited by MalfoyzBeloved; 09-28-2010 at 10:19 PM.
Reason: deleting un-story-related comment
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