In the final days of the holiday, Sirius's behavior was utterly bizarre.
—So much so that even Kreacher, the longtime resident of Grimmauld Place, thought he'd finally lost his mind.
As Kreacher heated oil in his pan to begin preparing the 108th pre-school feast for Jane, Sirius appeared in the kitchen with his head hung low.
"Ahem..."
He deliberately cleared his throat to announce his presence, glancing left and right, fiddling with the salt shaker with his left hand and the black pepper bottle with his right, as if trying to caress every jar and container in the kitchen and divine some hidden meaning from them.
"So Kreacher's mistress's worthless wastrel son has finally found his way into the kitchen."
Before Sirius could speak, Kreacher made the pots and pans clatter like firecrackers, his mouth maintaining its steady stream of commentary:
"I suppose he wants to learn how to capture some other family's young lady through her stomach. Too bad he's nothing but a wine-sack rice-bag, lazy in all four limbs, unable to distinguish the five grains, with an empty brain. Learning to cook might add romantic flourish for other young masters, but for him it's just gilding the lily and making things worse."
Sirius felt like sparks might actually shoot from his mouth with rage.
His face contorted, chest heaving, but then he remembered something—Jane's and Dumbledore's words, and Lupin's heartfelt confession.
"Consider the consequences... stay calm and rational... be polite and kind even to Kreacher..."
"Calm, rational, polite, kind..."
After repeating this distilled eight-character mantra three times, Sirius quickly composed his angry expression.
He first waved his wand to extinguish the flames leaping from the stove, then repaired and returned all the scattered pots and pans to their proper places.
"...Er... just pretend you didn't hear that... I mean, are you hurt anywhere?"
Kreacher didn't answer. The house-elf's eyes bulged like copper bells, filled with disbelief and shock—even the wrinkles on his face seemed to smooth out in surprise. Confused, he extended a long finger to dig at his ear.
Sirius repeated the question.
Kreacher looked even more terrified. Without saying a word, he trembled as he spread both arms, backing up until he was pressed tightly against the wall. His large ears stood alert as he slowly sidled out of the kitchen like a crab, disappearing from Sirius's view.
A few seconds later, a loud curtain-pulling sound echoed from downstairs, followed by Kreacher's wailing cry:
"Oh, Kreacher's mistress—your worthless Master Sirius has finally gone mad!"
His voice was so shrill and the content so tragic that everyone in the house came rushing downstairs, staring at him in bewilderment.
But Sirius, undeterred by his failed ice-breaking attempt, didn't give up.
He began providing Kreacher with 360-degree, comprehensive, relentless care.
So the house-elf was forcibly dragged out from under the large cauldron in the kitchen cabinet—
Only to be forcibly relocated by his current master to a bedroom.
"Mad!" Kreacher shrieked, every hair on his body bristling with resistance. "Just when Kreacher's about to be buried, he still wants to torment Kreacher! Master Sirius isn't just a good-for-nothing, filthy scoundrel, and unfilial son—he's a madman!"
Time and again, he hugged his pillow and fire poker, trying to return to the space under the cauldron, only to be dragged back by Sirius.
"Calm, rational, polite, kind..."
This caused the poor house-elf, forced to serve this "mad Master Sirius" at his advanced age, to let out pig-like squeals.
After his second ice-breaking failure, Sirius decided to persevere.
So Regulus's bedroom was forcibly invaded by one Sirius.
Kreacher, who was cleaning Regulus's body and changing his clothes, once again stared at him in terror and let out his practiced, piercing scream!
"I'm here to visit my brother—is there a problem with that?"
Sirius declared righteously, plopping down on the bed and waving his wand to cast Scourgify on Regulus.
Kreacher looked at Sirius as if witnessing the most outrageous and bizarre thing in his entire elf life, staring at him like he was some kind of freak.
"The young master is a hypocritical scoundrel!" the house-elf glared at him accusingly. "When he doesn't need Kreacher, he's the most useless waste in the family he despises most; when he does need Kreacher, he acts just like he does with Potter—fake and nauseating!"
While he cursed, Sirius kept muttering:
"Calm, rational, polite, kind..."
He calmed down again and said stiffly:
"I certainly despise the others. But I respect Regulus—he's my brother. We both fought against the Dark Lord. Otherwise, why do you think I'm still staying in this filthy house?"
Kreacher's back curved down again, as if he'd heard nothing, his mouth still muttering curses directed at Sirius.
But after Sirius left, the house-elf gazed sadly at Regulus's face, making wheezing sounds like an accordion from his throat.
In short, after Sirius's "meticulous" care, Kreacher was finally annoyed enough to avoid him like the plague.
Wherever Sirius was, Kreacher's figure would never appear, and wherever Kreacher was, Sirius would never show up.
This seemed very beneficial for Sirius's mental state, because although his situation and status in this house hadn't changed one bit—
The frequency of marriage-urging voices around his ears dropped dramatically.
Unfortunately, this seemed quite damaging to Kreacher's mental state, making the house-elf wish he could curl up in Regulus's room twenty-four hours a day.
But Jane accidentally discovered something surprising—
The house-elf had tossed some very old, small sheets and pillowcases into Sirius's bedroom like discarded trash.
They were probably things he'd used as a child, embroidered with very ancient gold and silver thread spelling out "Sirius Black."
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