Harry Potter and The Other

"Done, master," Kreacher reported obediently. "Shall I forbid entry to the manor for everyone except you?"

"Yes, of course," Arcturus replied, realizing that the elf had thought of something he should have considered himself.

"Done, master."

The tension that had gripped Arcturus all this time dissipated. Now he was alone and safe. Arcturus sat in the nearest armchair and slumped into it.

Not long ago, just a moment of oblivion before, he had still been Harry Potter. He had two best friends, Ron and Hermione. Now, he didn't understand why he hadn't completely fallen out with Ron at school, considering the redhead had caused him no small amount of trouble. As Harry, Arcturus had slacked off alongside Ron, though he could have studied better and more diligently. His feud with Malfoy had started and continued solely because of Ron — although Malfoy was in the wrong, and quite an unpleasant person, Harry wouldn't have openly feuded with him; it wasn't in his character. He preferred avoiding conflicts altogether. And of course, Ron had betrayed him more than once, both in small ways and in large. Why hadn't their friendship fallen apart? Why had it lasted until the end?

After some introspection, Arcturus admitted that deep down, he had always been afraid of being alone. Afraid that without Ron, he would have no one at all.

And Hermione? If you think about it, it wasn't him who was friends with her, but rather, she was friends with him. Grateful for saving her from the troll and for him and Ron accepting her into their company when no one else wanted to befriend her, she had stuck with them and became a loyal friend. But he had just witnessed how easily she turned away from the person whose mask of Harry Potter had been removed. And she wasn't pretending; otherwise, she wouldn't have cozied up to Ron, who had betrayed him once again, for who knows how many times.

So, had she only been friends with the mask? The role of the savior of Muggle-borns, to whom she belonged? He saw how she absentmindedly nodded when Dumbledore said, "He's just the son of a Death Eater." The Moor had done his duty, ensured her safety and equal rights with pure-bloods — the Moor could go.

Arcturus didn't even bother thinking about Ginny, only briefly wondering what he had ever seen in that brazen and vulgar girl. Clearly, he hadn't valued himself and had clung to a peer from his circle, one approved by those around him. Any other girl would have been an outsider among them, and he, being too dependent on them, wouldn't have been able to introduce her into the group.

He didn't want to think about anyone else. They were dead to him, and he had personally ensured that. Today, entirely different people had come to life.

Now he was left without support, without a single close person. The very thing he had unconsciously feared during his time at Hogwarts had come to pass, and it turned out not to be frightening. In fact, it was even good, though painful, that he had seen the true faces of those he had considered friends and mentors. So, his fear had been for nothing — everything happens for the best.

It was time to start anew.

Arcturus straightened his shoulders and lifted his head. He had changed, not only externally — had he remained the same, he would have been shattered and destroyed. What saved him was the subconscious sense that all of this had happened to a mask, one closely tied to him — but still, not him.

Yes! Enough of wallowing in self-pity; it was time to deal with the property left to him by the schemers who had used him. Arcturus's gaze fell on Kreacher, who obediently remained nearby, waiting for his master to finish grieving.

"Kreacher, what is this place?"

"You're in the secret library of the Blacks, and this is the study adjacent to it."

Arcturus liked the study; its unassuming decor was suitable for both work and rest. All it lacked for complete relaxation was a cup of coffee.

"Kreacher, can you make me some coffee?"

The house-elf looked at him with clear reluctance but still responded, "Kreacher will do it," and disappeared.

While Kreacher was gone, Arcturus sprawled comfortably in the armchair, observing his surroundings and gradually feeling a sense of ownership. A double-pedestal desk made from expensive woods, a comfortable chair with a soft seat, a tall cabinet with leather-bound notebooks visible behind glass, writing materials, and stacks of parchment. Beside the cabinet stood a tall safe, and in the corner of the room, a tea table and two armchairs, one of which Arcturus occupied. Unlike the other parts of the manor, not a speck of dust could be found here — clearly, the library was well-maintained. Instead of a door, there was an arch of the same width, but from where Arcturus sat, all he could see through it was a section of the wall. There was no point in venturing beyond it without the house-elf; it might be pointless or even dangerous.

A cup of coffee appeared on the table next to him, followed shortly by Kreacher. Arcturus took the cup and sipped it carefully, trying not to burn himself — the coffee was hot but weak and over-brewed. Arcturus remembered that Kreacher had never been good at making anything tasty, which was why Mrs. Weasley had cooked for the Order of the Phoenix.

"You're no good at cooking, Kreacher…" he voiced his disappointment aloud.

"Kreacher isn't a cook, master," the elf replied. "The cook was Darkey; she died when young master Regulus perished."

"Why did she die?" Arcturus's curiosity about someone else's tragedy distracted him from his own gloomy thoughts.

"When a family loses its members, elves die. The outcast Sirius complained about the house being dirty, but it was Roach and Mirme who cleaned. Roach died when Sirius was cast out, and Mirme died when Alphard was cast out. Now only Kreacher remains."

A searing guilt pierced Arcturus. At Hogwarts, he had never once inquired about how house-elves lived, how they were born, and how they died. Obsessed with Quidditch and terrified of Voldemort's threat, he had been too narrow-minded. He had taken advantage of Dobby's loyalty, who caused him many problems but still saved his life — all while being completely indifferent to the quirky elf, as if it were only natural. He had been too late with Dobby, but it wasn't too late to show some consideration for Kreacher.

"And what's your role here?" he asked the elf.

"Kreacher is the caretaker of the library and family artifacts. Kreacher is a scholar; he can read, write, and count."

Arcturus had never thought about how house-elves were educated. That too was inexcusable.

"Don't all elves know how to do that?"

"No, not all are taught. Elves must be taught, like children, so only the smartest and most capable are taught reading, writing, and counting. There are many tasks in the house that don't require these skills."

Kreacher's speech was different from that of other house-elves. His words were smoother and more complex; he truly sounded more educated.

"You speak better than Dobby," Arcturus noted.

"Kreacher knows much. Kreacher is the head of the house-elf community of the Black family. The family's magic deems Kreacher the most valuable, which is why Kreacher is the last one left. Kreacher can teach much to the heir."

"That's why Regulus trusted you to destroy the locket…" Arcturus realized.

"Yes, first he sent Kreacher to help the bad wizard, because Kreacher was the smartest and most knowledgeable. Then he tasked Kreacher with destroying the dark magic in the artifact. But Kreacher failed; elves don't wield deadly magic."

"Why didn't you save him?"

"He wouldn't jeopardize the family. The bad wizard would have destroyed the entire Black family. Kreacher felt sorry for young master Regulus, but the family was more important."

The coffee had cooled to a drinkable temperature, and Arcturus drained the cup. He planned to lie low for the next few days and not leave the manor unless absolutely necessary, so he needed to figure out the food situation. It looked like he'd have to recall Aunt Petunia's lessons and cook for himself. Although…

"Do you remember Winky, Kreacher?" he asked, recalling that the elf must have known her from Hogwarts, where she'd kept an eye on Malfoy alongside Dobby. "Could we invite her here?"

"Winky is a valuable and proper elf," Kreacher confirmed. "Winky could be summoned, but Winky is lost. Winky won't stop grieving for her old masters unless she's accepted into the family and goes through renewal."

"Okay, explain it to me step by step. What do you mean by 'lost'?"

"Cast out of the family. There's nothing worse for an elf."

"And how do we accept her into the family?"

"First, you, the master, should ask if Winky agrees to join the House of Blacks. Winky might agree since her previous family has disappeared. Then you will go with Winky to the ancestral stone, place Winky's hand on it, and say that you are taking Winky into the House of Blacks. After that, you will perform the renewal on Winky."

Kreacher fell silent, and after a few seconds, a heavy, ancient book with silver clasps appeared on the table.

"Here are the rituals for house-elves," he explained. "You, master, need to know them all, but for now, read about the renewal. If anything is unclear, Kreacher will explain."

Obeying an invisible command from the house-elf, the clasps unlatched, the book opened, and began to flip pages until it reached the necessary one. Arcturus immersed himself in reading.

"What a horror…" he said, looking at Kreacher after finishing. "Do I have to behead Winky? Kill Winky?"

"Not kill, but renew. You are not used to this, master, but it must be done. Winky will be reborn with all her memories and abilities, but free from the ties of her former family and in a new healthy body. Every elf undergoes renewal, and for the most valuable elves, their heads are preserved for reincarnation. You saw such heads in the hall of the mansion, master. Kreacher possesses eleven heads."

The book began to flip pages again on its own.

"Read about reincarnation, master. It will become clearer."

Arcturus read the chapter on the specified ritual, and indeed, some things became clearer. But he still needed to come to terms with it.

"Everything with you elves is so different from humans," he muttered in disbelief.

"Elves are not humans, master. Elves are incarnations of household spirits from the world of lesser spirits. Millennia ago, wizards invented spells that give spirits bodies. Life in the spirit world is boring; elves love to incarnate. The world of things is interesting; you can work with things. Elves love to work with things."

"Uh… I seem to have forgotten to ask how elves reproduce."

"Not at all, master. In the spirit world, elves gradually evolve from lesser entities. They come into the world of things through a summoning ritual. Would you like to read about the summoning ritual, master?"

"No, later," Arcturus waved his hand, feeling his head spinning as it was. "But among you, there are men and women…"

"That's how the summoning spell is structured. Elves whose essence is closer to feminine incarnate in female bodies; the rest in male bodies. Kreacher does not know why it was done this way. Perhaps it's more convenient for the masters."

Arcturus fell silent while processing the new information. Finally, he had some guesses.

"So, I don't have to call Winky and behead her? I can summon a new elf?"

"That will be a completely untrained elf, master. You will have to teach it everything for several years, like a human infant."

"Then, if the heads of elves serve as anchors in the world of things, can I take one and reincarnate someone from the deceased elves of the family?"

"Yes, master, any head except Kreacher 's head. Kreacher is already here, master; his anchor would be wasted. Kreacher would suggest reincarnating Darky, but give Winky a chance. Winky is a valuable and correct elf; Winky has lost her anchors after being banished from the family. If Winky dies, she won't be able to return from the spirit world."

"So I can bring back both Winky and Dobby?!" exclaimed Arcturus , still blaming himself for the house-elf's death.

"If Dobby's heads are preserved, they are with the Malfoys. But Dobby is a corrupted elf. He was given to a bad wizard for assistance; that bad wizard spoiled Dobby."

"I didn't see any heads in the Malfoy hall." Arcturus recalled that he had only been dragged through there once by the gamekeeper, and his face had been swollen from Hermione's hexes, but he would have remembered something like that.

"They hide the heads; it's a family treasure. Heads are displayed only when they want to show the strength of the family. In the Black family hall, one head from each valuable elf was displayed; the others are stored here. Would you like to see them, master?"

Still in shock, Arcturus nodded absently. Kreacher moved towards the exit of the study, stopped in the archway, looked back, and waited for the master to stand up and follow him. On either side of the narrow corridor, lined with oak panels and illuminated by magical lamps, there were doors and arches leading to storage rooms for books and artifacts. At the last door, Kreacher stopped, and it opened by itself before him.

Inside was a small room, windowless like all the rooms of the family vault, illuminated by two large, ancient magical lamps hanging from chains on the ceiling. The walls of the room were lined with many heads of house-elves, arranged in rows of varying lengths. Each row had a plaque with text written in Gothic script. In the longest row hung ten identical heads, which Arcturus recognized as Kreacher's. He approached and read the plaque at the beginning of the row, where it was written in gold letters:

"Kreacher, year of summoning 1376, knows arithmetic, reading, and writing, librarian, keeper of artifacts. Has extensive knowledge of spells, including family and special ones, can assist in rituals. Head of the elf community of the Black family."

Intrigued, Arcturus began to read through all the plaques one by one. All the elves, except Kreacher, had another date listed as their date of disincarnation.

"Why is that needed if the elf can be brought back?" he asked Kreacher, who was following him.

"Different skills," replied the house-elf. "If an elf is needed to maintain cleanliness in the house, it doesn't matter when they died. But if an elf is needed to replenish the family's supplies, it is important, because the world changes from century to century."

Darky turned out to be only slightly younger than Kreacher; she was an unparalleled cook and could brew simple potions. Mantiss, who had recently died—according to Kreacher, when Andromeda was expelled—was responsible for the pantry supplies. With growing interest, Arcturus read plaque after plaque, revealing the life of the Black family over the centuries. Finally, he came across a row with three heads, each with a green face and short branches instead of hair.

"And who is this?" he asked Kreacher.

"This is Twiggy, a treant. He was the gardener of the family when the family was powerful. Twiggy hasn't been reincarnated for over four centuries."

The same was indicated by the plaque hanging nearby. There was also a large black head, several times larger than the house-elf heads.

"This is Frenzy, the guardian," Kreacher commented in response to Arcturus's questioning look. "Frenzy is from the world of higher spirits; summoning from there requires three pints of the summoner's blood. Thirteen centuries ago, there was a powerful summoner in the Black family who summoned and trained Frenzy. Frenzy died while defending the ancestral mansion, which was not here at the time; since then, Frenzy hasn't been reincarnated. It's very difficult to summon, train, and maintain a higher spirit."

"So I can reincarnate any elves that have heads here?" Arcturus asked excitedly.

"The family's strength holds elves in the world of things. Right now, the family is very weak; its strength can hold no more than three elves."

"And what about Dobby and Winky, banished from the family? What kept them here?"

"Dobby held on thanks to your strength, master. Winky was taken by the head of the Hogwarts community."

"So I need to moderate my requests…"

"Take only Winky or Darky, master. Kreacher will tell you when more elves are needed. For Winky's renewal, she will need half a pint of your blood; for Darky's reincarnation, a pint of your blood. You can handle it."

"This is considered blood magic, right?" Arcturus realized.

"And spirit magic too. Both are considered dark magic and are prohibited by the Ministry. But don't worry, master; the mansion's protection will not allow anything to leak out."

"Can I perform the ritual right now?"

"First, study it, master, memorize it. When you have memorized it, tell Kreacher; Kreacher will check. What you can try, try on the ancestral stone; Kreacher will be with you and show you everything. You will have one attempt with Winky; you cannot make mistakes."

The details of dealing with house-elves that had overwhelmed Arcturus pushed the betrayal of his loved ones far into the past. Now he was almost calm and focused on a new life, though deep down, something still ached. Arcturus asked Kreacher to take him to the kitchen and headed into the pantry to prepare something for dinner. The food supplies were meager, lacking any delicacies—Kreacher didn't want to spoil Sirius, who had arrived here three days ago—but there were enough ingredients to make scrambled eggs, and Arcturus ate. After dinner, he and Kreacher visited the artifact room, where he found a suitable wand, as a wand was required for the renewal ritual. He spent the rest of the day studying the ritual and finally went to sleep in the first available bedroom.

The ritual had to be performed on an empty stomach because excessive bloodletting could cause nausea. In the morning, Arcturus summoned Kreacher and instructed him to prepare everything for the ritual, then called for Winky.

The house-elf appeared at his call, and it was a frightening sight. Puffing, disheveled, tattered, and dirty, and dead drunk in the morning, she couldn't stand before Arcturus and collapsed on the floor at his feet.

"Mr. Harry Potter… hic…" Winky mumbled drunkenly.

"Winky, do you agree to join my family?" Arcturus asked her, not really hoping she would understand—Kreacher had said this was necessary. "Do you want me to accept you into the House of Blacks?"

Winky understood. She even sobered up a little and stared at him with bloodshot eyes, holding her head up firmly.

"Winky agrees, kind Mr. Harry Potter!" she exclaimed. "Winky will go to the House of Blacks!" Without waiting for an invitation, she extended her dirty hand, covered in half-healed sores. Trying not to think about possible infections, Arcturus took her hand and called for Kreacher.

The renewal ritual went flawlessly. The hardest part for Arcturus was cutting off Winky's head in one precise motion with the ritual knife, but when the renewed Winky emerged from the magical cocoon—clean, fresh, completely sober, without a single sore, and looking quite beautiful—he thought that dark magic wasn't such a bad thing after all. A cloak with the Black family crest appeared on Winky, and the house-elf gazed devotedly and happily at her new master.

"Winky awaits your orders, master!"