Disclaimer: I own the plot and the way people longterm timetravel in this story. I also own the theory of Life-Lines and their connection to House-elves. I do not own anything that you recognize from cannon, but I do own the OOC character's attitudes and how they interact with one another. Since Kreacher and Walburga Black did not speak very much in cannon and I haven't read the 6th and 7th books, I will do my best to keep the cannon details correct unless Hermione's presence merrits the change.

"the Messenger, Heir of the Corvusons"

by: JustWriter

Chapter 1: Life-Lines

Kreacher had woken the day before Christmas feeling more powerful. Now when he looked over his form, he saw four life-lines attached to where, had he been human his navel would have been, instead of three life-lines. The three that had been attached to him for many years were nearly the same as the night previous. One belonged to his mistress Bella. It was silver and aqua, in rough, unchecked patterns that had the blackness of Dark magic and the yellow-orange of the Imperius Curse surrounding it. Another was his Mistress Cissy's, which also held the colors aqua and silver. Yet the pattern of Cissy's was more organized and was surrounded by evidence of the glamour spells that she used every day without preamble.

The third life-line was his Master's, which held the colors gold and aqua. The pattern was almost as wild as his Mistress Bella's and was surrounded by patches of a color that he knew to symbolize animigi mastery and bunches of sorrow, depression, and regret in larger portions surrounded the rest of the life-line.

The new life-line was bronze and royal blue and was coming from the direction of where he knew Hogwarts to be. Late in the night on Christmas Eve, the new line shook and he saw what had been surrounded with contentment earlier, had been flooded with extreme amounts of worry and anxiety. Then, the line grew warmer and he knew that whoever was on the other end of it was now in Number 12 Grimauld Place. And now, here he was contemplating how he could have bonded with her when he knew that she was supposed to be filth.

She sniffled and wiped the warm, salted water from her face. She hadn't been able to sleep. After feigning sleep for a while, waiting for Ginny to be asleep, she had let go of the reins she had, had on her emotions. Through her bleary eyes, she saw a familiar grey form. She recognized it, or rather him. "Hello Kreacher," she addressed him. She really didn't know what else to say to him. He was just so completely different from her; too far away to understand. She curled her legs in front of her and wrapped her arms around them.

Kreacher stared at her in contemplation and he asked, "Why is miss upset?" She glanced up in confusion and then questioned him saying, "Um; why do you want to know Kreacher? I thought you didn't care about mudbloods," she said solemnly. There! That's exactly what he'd been wondering. She obviously hadn't consciously performed any spells to make him loyal to her. It was something else. It definitely wasn't because she'd been nice to him.

"Kreacher doesn't know why he is concerned," he said, being honest with her for some strange reason that he couldn't comprehend. She again sniffled and glanced toward him through her water laden eyelashes. "I don't want Harry to die. He doesn't deserve to," she confided, her voice cracking on the appropriate words.

The longer he stared at her; he began to realize that she seemed just a bit familiar. But no; it couldn't be that could it? There was nobody left from his previous family. They'd only produced squibs that had been in his previous mistress' age group. A family can only keep house elves bound to them if at least one member has a certain amount of magic in them, so his dear mistress' godmother gave him, along with some other house elves to Walburga Black as a wedding gift.

Realization hit him and he entered missus Granger's personal space. She normally would have jumped to her own defense, but she didn't feel threatened by him in the least. His presence was comforting, almost like her mother's. How strange; she'd never felt that way around him before, just a little apprehensive. What had changed?

According to the ancient laws and magic that governed the race of elves, one elf may not be loyal to more than one family. If he didn't act within a week's time, he would die. Since he suspected that his new mistress was of his first family, he had to remain loyal to her above all others. But the only way he would be able to do so, was if his master and other mistresses either released him, they died suddenly, or if… but that would only work if he was correct. He needed to confirm his suspicions first. "May Kreacher test miss?"

She looked at him again and felt confusion and trepidation. "For what and how Kreacher?" she asked, thankful that she had some of her wits about her in this confusing circumstance.

He acknowledged her caution. It was good for him that she didn't trust blindly. "Kreacher wants to scan your magical core. There are no side effects." She acquiesced with a nod. Kreacher's hand went towards her navel and he made her core become temporarily visible. His eyes were immediately drawn to the dominant colors, bronze and blue, and the heritage was now right there in front of him. "Kreacher was right. You are not filth."

She looked up in confusion. "What do you mean? I've grown up as a muggle. My parents have grown up as muggles. They never received letters for magical schooling, ever."

"Your parents and their parents must have all been squibs. Kreacher just checked. Magical cores never lie."

"So, all four of my grandparents grew up in wizarding homes?" she asked in disbelief. Kreacher nodded. She believed him. She should have been skeptical but she somehow knew that he was telling the truth. Then her calculating mind took over once mare and she asked, "So I'm pureblood, but still by definition a muggleborn?"

Kreacher nodded once more. He seemed to be doing that since the beginning of the conversation. "Muggleborn and Mudblood filth are often associated with one another, but they are in fact, as they appear, two separate words, which means two separate meanings. Mudblood simply means outsider blood, while muggleborn means raised like a muggle. In fact, a French witch who is considered pureblood by her own community could actually be considered a mudblood in Britain. But it's really been such a long time since they were considered such in British Pureblood society. Kreacher believes this was why the Dark Lord did not recruit foreign wizards in the first war."

"First War? Kreacher, what do you mean? There hasn't been a second war," Hermione protested while a yet hung in the air.

"Kreacher knows this. But Kreacher knows that if events continue their current course, there will be a second, if not more wars; and young Harry Potter, as well as many others will die in the process. Kreacher sees it clearly that the Dark Lord has a high chance of winning. Harry Potter has less chance, and in those variations, the British Wizarding population has an even smaller chance of replenishing itself, even with the mudblood filth."

"Oh," she uttered solemnly. Kreacher had never really spoken to her before. By all rights, she should have stopped attempting to do so with him after he basically shunned her from the start; but something deep inside her had convinced her otherwise.

Then something occurred to her. "Kreacher, is Granger my real name?" she asked logically and apprehensively. She was afraid to hear the answer, but logically knew that Granger had only been seen once in all of her studies in the Wizarding World; about three hundred years prior, someone by the name of Herbert Bennet-Granger had developed a noteworthy mastery in potions. It was not a Wizarding name.

"No miss, you are not a Granger. The Squibs must have renamed themselves," Kreacher replied. No, she was a Corvuson, and he'd attempt the third solution, marriage bonding, in order to ensure that he would be able to serve all of the life-lines attached to him. After she'd calmed enough, he put her to sleep with a simple spell.

Fogging into the future, slightly how a human would divine prophecies, he watched what would happen if he bonded the master and his new mistress to one another in this time. It didn't look promising. It appeared that due to his master's overexposure to dementors, he was infertile. So he looked again to see what would happen if he brought his new mistress back just before the attack on the Potters. It was the same outcome as the first, only his master would be disowned and he'd lose his chance to bond them. He looked again to see what would happen if he deposited her in his master's 5th year. Again, it didn't work; only this time because Sirius would disappoint her with his behavior.

After reviewing millions of possibilities, he settled on one; but first he'd have to consult with his former mistress Walburga's impression.