“Got you!” Harry called.

Kreacher sighed. “This game is no fair young master, Kreacher cannot use a wand.” He protested.

The toy soldiers dropped from the air, Harry’s “killing” Kreacher’s for the third win in a row. Harry wasn’t entirely sure why he had decided to play tag of all games, but it was fun to his surprise, and good practice too. It had been rather boring at first, with Harry levitating the soldiers to fight makeshift duels in the air. Then Kreacher had joined.

The small taps the soldiers had on eachothers shoulders became full on clashes as both Harry and Kreacher fought to outdo each other by breaking all of the other’s soldiers. It always ended the same, with Harry using Reparo faster than Kreacher could. It was a mess, broken blades sticking out of crushed wooden bodies. Some were burned too. Harry had found himself a toy dragon and animated it with a few charms, and the fire was devastating against the opposing army. Kreacher responded by pulling out more soldiers from a box which, of course, never ran out of them.

This went on for some time while Magnus chuckled in the background with the occasional comment on where to repair or attack. Then, Kreacher called for a lunch break.

“Woah, did you make this Kreacher? It tastes excellent.” Harry said, taking a bite. It was a strange blend of ingredients he couldn’t quite put a name to. It was sweet, creamy, but hot instead of cold, so not ice cream. It also had the texture of meat, all the more confusing as it was a grassy green.

“Thank you young master, Kreacher has practiced for six hundred years. If the young master would like some more, here.” He boasted, finding another.

“Six hundred?” Harry asked, dropping his bowl. Kreacher snatched it into the air, and Harry picked it up. “Oh, sorry.” He said.

“Kreacher has served House Black since mistress Walburga.” He said, puffing his chest.

“It must be good, being able to eat like this every day.” Harry said, taking a few more bites. He didn’t realize how hungry he was until he asked for seconds.

His face fell. “Kreacher cannot eat this, young master. This is for the masters of House Black and it’s guests. Kreacher can eat rats.” He said. Harry found that he could not see any bitterness in his voice, only quiet acceptance.

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He looked at the elf, then his bowl, and felt as if his meal had turned to ash in his throat. “Why don’t you make some for yourself Kreacher?”

Kreacher shook his head. “Kreacher cannot eat meals he cooks, Master Sirius forbids it.” He said.

“Well, I allow it. Here, have some, Kreacher.” Harry said, pushing his bowl towards the elf.

Kreacher shrunk back as if he had been struck. “The young master is hungry, Kreacher should not eat before the young master.” He said.

“You’re hungrier. You should eat first. I insist.” Harry said.

Kreacher almost snatched the bowl, and reached for a spoon before stopping himself. “Is the young master sure?” He asked, as if he couldn’t believe his ears.

Harry gave a dismissive wave. “It’s just food, you know. Eat it.”

Kreacher tore into the meal as if it was his last, not stopping as his face became coated in the greenish cream. He ate like his life depended on it, and before Harry could register what was happening he was finished. The way the elf looked at him made Harry uncomfortable, tears forming in his eyes. It was almost as if he was his savior, and had given him gold instead of a bowl of cream he could have made at any time.

“Thank you young master.” Kreacher sniffed, wiping his tears on the tablecloth.

Harry looked at the empty bowl, then Kreacher. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten something like that?” He asked.

Kreacher was half sobbing, his tablecloth wrapped over his face like a blindfold. “A year, young master. Master Regulus was the only one to share his meals with me.” He said, his eyes buried within his cloth.

Harry sighed. He knew that house elves were never treated well, but this. This was just cruelty. “You know, you should make enough to eat your own portion. Just avoid Sirius while you do, I’ll give you permission. If he asks, you are making extra just in case.” Harry said.

“Thank you, young master.” Kreacher croaked.

Harry offered him one of those soft smiles he knew his mother for. “You can call me Harry if you like.” He said.

Why? Magnus asked. His loyalty is cheap, and I don’t lose anything. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to be a good person. He responded. Magnus laughed. You’re learning, Harry.

“Let’s keep playing.” Harry said. “Piertotum Locomotor!” He said, waving his wand at his army.

The game started again, but Kreacher seemed energized this time, his endless supply of soldiers attacking much more vigorously than they did before. They continued, wave after wave of soldiers lying on the ground in a heap as the war raged on. Neither player got tired, and whenever Harry took the advantage more soldiers joined the fight. By the end of it, the “dead” had made a mountain of its own on the makeshift battlefield, and would have continued had Lily Potter not walked inside.