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Gobstones


The Christmas feast was marvelous - as always - though a bit more crowded than usual, for which Regulus was rather thankful, actually. It meant he could easily get lost amongst the people at the table and he managed to squash his way in on the bench next to Newt Scamander and a woman he assumed was his wife because of the way Newt turned toward her. A little boy sat between them, staring up at the ceiling with wide eyes that looked somewhere between awed and terrified as he glanced up and down the table. There weren’t very many students that had stayed at the castle for the holidays, but the table was absolutely stock full of children - loads and loads of children that Regulus didn’t recognize, but Tina Scamander seemed to know every single one of their names. Regulus wondered if they were all Newt and Tina’s and wondered how it was Newt managed to tote around a family with so many kids about as he traipsed all over doing his research on beasts.

Dumbledore stood at the head of the table, beside him sat a watery-eyed Professor Clearwater, who held a Christmas cracker in her hand as though she wasn’t certain she knew what it was for. Professors Prewett and Prewett were sitting across from one another, smirking as they played at making faces at one another to make the kids around them giggle, but they both went serious and turned to look at the headmaster when he stood - everyone at the table gave Dumbledore their attention.

“Another Happy Christmas,” he said, smiling about at them, “And soon, a new year in which to spread joy and work towards peace. I am thankful for every one of you here, you are all precious. I am sure that I am not speaking alone when I say that I am especially thankful for you, Newt, and you, Tina, for your heroic efforts…” Newt hung his head humbly, turning quite pale as bunch of the children clapped excitedly. Dumbledore smiled, “Now is not the time to be modest, Mr. Scamander.”

Tina nudged him and smiled when Newt’s eyes met hers.

“I am sure we are all quite hungry,” Dumbledore said, “So let’s tuck in.” He clapped his hands and with a poof the whole table was suddenly filled with food and the children all were very excited by it and they let out gasps and exclamations and their wonder at the work of the house elves breathed new life and excitement into everyone sitting about the dinner table so that it seemed twice as magical as it usually did, even to those who were quite used to magic in their everyday lives.

When it was over, Regulus snuck away instead of socializing, hoping to get away from the Slytherin boys before they could catch up with him. He snuck down the stairs to the dungeons and up to his dormitory alone and breathed in relief as he locked the door behind him.

CRACK!

He turned around and saw Kreacher was standing in the center of his bed, clutching a dish towel tied into a bag. Kreacher lowered his ears and bowed to Regulus, closing his wide bulbous eyes as he did so in respect.

“Kreacher!” exclaimed Regulus in surprise, “What’re you doing here?”

Kreacher’s eyes flapped. “Kreacher’s Master must have been expecting Kreacher, surely?”

“Expecting you?” Regulus asked.

Kreacher’s eyes raised to Regulus’s. “But Master Regulus cannot have thought Kreacher would not come for Master’s birthday?”

Regulus stared at the elf, amazed. “You remembered it was my birthday.”

“Of course Kreacher remembers Master’s birthday,” the elf croaked. “It is the same as Christmas day, it is not easy to be forgetting. But even without it being Christmas, Kreacher would always remember his Master’s day. Master’s day is special because it is being the day that Kreacher’s most wonderful Master Regulus was born. Kreacher remembers the day very well, fourteen years ago, Kreacher was seeing Master for the first time, and Master was very small. Small as a Master can be. It is being a special day for Kreacher.” He held up the towel, “Kreacher is giving Master a present.”

Regulus stepped forward slowly, his heart welling up in his chest. And that grubby little towel-wrapped parcel meant more to him than the remaining colourfully wrapped packages sent him by his mum that stood at the foot of the bed. He needn’t open a single one of them to know that Kreacher’s meant more. He took it from Kreacher’s hands and he untied the messy knot at the top and inside he found carefully baked and frosted cookies, ginger snaps, his favorite - and each cookie had been hand made to be shaped like something different. There was a snitch painted gold with powdered sugar wings and a broomstick with dark and milk chocolate stripes for the twigs. There was a crown and a colorfully decorated gobstone table and a cookie shaped like the Slytherin house crest. Regulus’s favorite though was a very complex one shaped like himself and Kreacher, holding hands, with painted smiles and tiny candy eyes.

“Kreacher hopes that his Master Regulus likes the cookies Kreacher has made,” he croaked.

“I love them,” he said.

Kreacher pointed to the one cookie, “This is Kreacher and his Master,” he said.

“I see that,” Regulus nodded, “That’s my favorite.”

Kreacher flapped his ears happily.

“Thank you, Kreacher,” Regulus said.

“Is it not everyday that Master is being turning fourteen,” Kreacher said lowly, “Kreacher knows this and Kreacher is wanting to make his Master Regulus’s fourteen special. Kreacher is hoping Master Regulus was having a most excellent birthday?”

Regulus didn’t want to disappoint Kreacher with tales of his long nap and horrible dreams, so he simply nodded, “Yes, Kreacher, it was a very good one, made even better by the cookies.”

Kreacher smiled.

Regulus put the cookies on his nightstand. “Would you like to play me at gobstones, Kreacher?” Regulus asked. He knew how much it would mean to the elf, simple as it was.

Kreacher looked up hopefully. “Is Kreacher’s Master wanting to play gobstones with Kreacher? Kreacher has waited very long to play gobstones with Master Regulus again. Kreacher will fetch the stones and play with Master Regulus as long as Master wishes to play.” And with a CRACK! Kreacher disappeared.

Regulus couldn’t help but smile at the elf’s eagerness, and he sat down on the bed and pulled the other presents from his mum over and poked through them while he waited, picturing the elf carefully getting all the gobstones packed in their bag. Kreacher took immaculate care of that old gobstone set. In the boxes from Walburga, Regulus found new Slytherin stationary and a lovely green quill. There was pistachio fudge and rock cakes and a book about the history of Quidditch. There was also a new pair of seeker goggles and a card and a nice moleskin coin purse with with galleons inside to spend on his next Hogsmeade trip.

When Kreacher returned, he was clutching the gobstone board like he was holding a holy object in his arms and he eagerly set up the board on Regulus’s desk chair after pushing it over to where Regulus sat on the bed, waiting and holding the green quill in his hand thoughtfully.

He watched Kreacher’s old fingers wrap around the gobstones in a wobbly manner.

“Kreacher, do you have arthritis?” he asked suddenly.

Kreacher looked up. “Kreacher is getting old, Master Regulus, but so long as Kreacher’s limbs bend and work, Kreacher will serve his Master.” The way he said it, Regulus could tell that the question had unnerved the elf - he was probably thinking of the elf heads on the walls at Number 12 Grimmauld Place and how Walburga constantly threatened the elf with being added among them. “Kreacher will not let his aches interrupt his service -- no, no Master must not worry about that -- Kreacher would burn his hands on the stove before he would let Master down being frail. Kreacher will never let Master down. Kreacher is getting old but he is not getting unfaithful, Master Regulus!”

“I’ll make you potion to make it better,” Regulus said.

Kreacher’s ears went flat to his head and he stared up at Regulus in wonder.

“Mr. Newt Scamander told me how. Do you know who Newt Scamander is, Kreacher?”

“Kreacher is not knowing but if Master Regulus likes him, then Master is knowing better than Kreacher who is good and who is kind and Kreacher will like Mr. Scamander as much as Master wishes for him to.”

“He’s a very famous magizoologist. He’s written books. He studies magical creatures - fantastic beasts. He’s brilliant. You know, Kreacher, I could study fantastic beasts and I could become a magizoologist too and I could take care of you all your life. We could get a home and get lots and lots of house elves and we could all live together like a great family!” He paused. “How old are you Kreacher?”

“Kreacher has lost count of the years, Master,” Kreacher said.

Regulus sighed.

Kreacher looked up at him. “Master Regulus will be great,” he said reverently. “Master Regulus will be great and the Dark Lord will be made proud of Master, because of Master’s Greatness. Kreacher knows Master wishes to please the Dark Lord and Kreacher knows that Master will do great things, just like Master wants.”

Regulus knew the elf was saying what he thought Regulus wanted to hear. Kreacher knew nothing about the Dark Lord, beside what he heard and saw about Number 12. Kreacher didn’t understand the treachery of what the Dark Lord’s regime would mean for him and his kind, what sort of darkness Voldemort represented. Even Regulus didn’t fully understand it, but he could feel it, looming like a shadow in the night, like a solar eclipse - the brightness of the sun blocking out the darkness behind it was like Voldemort’s promises against what his ruling would truly mean for the world.

But Regulus also knew the elf was trying to please Regulus, and he appreciated the sentiment.

“Thank you Kreacher.”

“Kreacher is being knowing Master Regulus was good since Master Regulus was very small. Kreacher is always being knowing Master Regulus would be great.” He had finished setting up the gobstones and he looked up at Regulus expectantly.

Regulus studied the board, and made his first move.