I spent so much time in the bathtub that my skin started to wrinkle. When the dirty, brown water became cold, I stepped out of it, and I grabbed one of the fluffy white towels that Mrs. Weasley had left me, rubbing the wet away. When my body was dry, I rubbed my head with the towel before wrapping it around myself.

I dissected the pile of clothes that were left for me, so happy about how clean and not ragged they were, but the thing that I liked best was how nice they smelled. They were just a pair of blue denim jeans, a red t-shirt, socks and some undergarments, but they were the only thing that I now owned.

There was also a hair brush on the shelf, so still wrapped in my towel, I turned to the mirror.

I wish I hadn't.

I didn't know the girl who was staring back at me. My hair appeared to be a darker blonde than it truly was because it was still damp, and it hung limply over my collar bones. They jutted out from my shoulder, and I ran a finger over each one. My chin and cheeks stood out in sharp, hard points and plains, like I was made out of glass. My eyes were large in my face, and as blue as an iceberg. I knew that as my hair lightened, so would my eyes, so they would appear to be almost grey.

I had to turn away, before I was fully hypnotized by how much I had changed, how different I looked than how I thought I did. Instead of brushing my hair, I decided to just get dressed and leave the bathroom. I didn't know when I'd have enough courage to look in a mirror again.

I tried to leave the bathroom as neat as I had left it, folding my wet towel and tossing it over the lip of the tub, rearranging the soap on the shelf, and picking at the clothes that I had arrived in. I wanted to throw them away, but there wasn't a waste basket, so I folded those in half and put them on the lip of the bathtub too, right next to the towel. With that done, I gently shut the door behind me before tiptoeing toward the steps.

I walked down them and landed on the main floor, walking toward the door that would lead down the stairs in the kitchen when I heard the whispering and muttering.

Lupin had said that people came and went from the house all the time, and how we arrived this morning seemed to prove it. However, I didn't think that there would be someone on the main floor when I was almost sure Mrs. Weasley, Remus and Sirius were downstairs in the kitchen.

I didn't know what possessed me to do it: I thought that the house was dark and gloomy, and that it might even be haunted. I wasn't one to go looking for trouble, or to get a rush from being afraid, but I wanted to see who was talking, who they were talking to, and what they were saying.

I was coming from the room that was under the main staircase, so I melded myself against the wall and peeked into it.

There was a creature, one I've never seen the likes of before, dressed in a ragged, dirty toga-looking garment, far more grungier than what I had arrived in. It was weeping in front of a life-sized, dark portrait of a harsh looking woman, dressed all in black, as if she was going to a funeral.

"Kreature is sorry my mistress, so sorry," he kept whispering, almost chanting. "Blood traitors, Mudbloods, and now a Muggle." He spat.

"My Kreature," the woman in the portrait soothed back to him. "You are not at fault. My bastard of a son, the biggest failure of my life, my biggest disgrace. He was dead to me in life, and only in my death has he dared to return."

"Master Sirius," Kreature said. "If only it were Master Regulus here now instead of him."

I was listening to hear the portrait's reply, but screamed as something touched my shoulder.

It was Lupin, finger over his mouth, but that was in vain, as the creature named Kreature whirled around, the lady in the portrait walking out of the field of the frame.

"Filthy, filthy," spat Kreature, now at Lupin and I. "The life of a muggle is a wasted one."

"Kreature, you old sod," came an insult from behind me. Sirius wasn't very far behind Lupin, though I hadn't noticed him before. His dark jacket moved around him as he presented himself into the room.

I expected to hear more harsh words, maybe even see the creature try to attack Sirius, but he did neither. He just seemed to stiffen for a moment, before he seemed to hesitantly bend into a bow. "How may Kreature be of service Master Sirius."

"By making yourself scarce. Take yourself away from me, away from my guests, and I don't want to find you back in here talking to her." Sirius said, pointing to the painting.

The creature shuffled, muttered, and then said, "Yes, Master Sirius," before seeing himself out as Sirius had commanded.

I looked behind my shoulder to Lupin, eyebrows raised up in a question, but he shook his head, seeming to promise that someone might explain later.

"Well," Sirius said, dragging my attention back to him. "I see that you've stumbled upon my mother's house elf and the old bat herself."

I didn't quite know what to say to that, but a knot formed in my throat as I remembered all the nasty things that Sirius' mother had said about him. Did he know that she thought and said those things about him, or had she thought that only the house elf had been listening. But I asked a different question instead.

"What's a house elf?"