            "Kreacher sees, and he hears, and he smells," he hummed indignantly, as if she’d insulted him. "Mistress Hermione is leaving her filthy scent all over dead Master Black’s bedroom. Mistress screams at night, and Kreacher hears even if other Masters don’t." The elf’s lip curled into a waxy sneer. "Kreacher hoped that if Mistress Hermione had bad dreams, she would stop leaving her filthy scent in Kreacher’s once noble house." He darted away as fast as his stooped little frame allowed. She let him go, falling back to sit on the step.