Once upon a long long time ago, in a charming town of Boubbeting lived extremely personable little men, known in wizarding world as elves.

They lived peacefully, and very hardly, if ever, caused trouble for any fellow elf or any other magical being.

It was a blessing that they were so contend with their place in the world for they possessed magic like no other magical being in the world.

Unlike most witches and wizards, and other magical creatures, they did not need a medium to cast their magic around.

Many thought it was because of this that their magic was somewhat restricted.

In reality, this very talent made them more powerful than many of wand wielding wizards.

They could move mountains around and make goats fly with a wink of their eyes or a snap of their fingers.

It would have resulted in a huge war and destruction had all of them decided to want to rule the world.

They lived united in their towns, happily going about their lives, doing regular work of farming and mining, prospering in the little heaven they had created for themselves.

But like everything in world, where sun shined bright, darkness also lurks in the quiet corners.

Mr. Rugled, the eldest elf of Boubbeting town sighed in contentment as he ran his gaze over the town he has spent all his life in.

He had lived a happy life here, managing to maintain coexistence with all the other creatures in the world.

He was well respected amongst witches and wizards, vampires and even centaurs and werewolves, who seldom trusted people other than their own kind.

Mr. Rugled lived in a cottage on the tallest mountain in town and often gazed upon his town folks, feeling pride and love for them.

He lovingly gaze upon his son, returning to town from Scotland, his bat-like ears flapping about him.

Mr. Rugled cannot see his eyes from this far above, but knew his son's large hazel eyes must be tired but satisfied, having finally completed his work in Scotland.

Mr. Rugled's son, Reppie had a talent for building castles and hiding them from prying eyes of muggles, and many a rich witches and wizards hired him to build theirs in exchange jewels and crops.

Rugled, like majority of other elves, was rich because of their talents and would never need to work if not for the love for it.

Rugled was distracted from his musing by the sound of footsteps, and he turned to find his wife Beekey hobbling towards him with basket of fresh fruits and concerned hazel eyes, so like his son's.

Mr. Rugled knew why Beekey looked concerned but seeking to delay the discussion for some time still, enquired about their son first.

In his old, squeaky voice, he asked, "I see our son is back from building that castle for those wizards, my dear Beekey."

His wife replied, "It is to be a school, he says, dear."

"A school?," Rugled inquired. "Of what kind?" Beekey handed him a fresh apple and replied, "A school for young witches and wizards he says. Those are powerful wizards and witches, and they seek to teach young lot too."

"That's kind of them. Very kind, indeed Beekey!" It always heartened Rugled to see people spreading kindness around a world that was darkening every day in so many other ways.

This thought brought forth the inevitable discussion that had put concern in his wife's eyes.

"So Trudy called upon us again, my dear Beekey" It was not a question, but Beekey answered anyways.

She squeaked, "Why yes, she did. And told me Troffer had gone to London to meet some people, she did."

Troffer was a bad seed of the town. While every other town folk was happy and content by coexisting with each other, Troffer had dreams.

Dreams that, Rugled feared, will in turn be a nightmare to his kind.

Troffer seeked power. Recognition. He believed elves were wasting their lives - and their magic - doing meagre work when they had potential to rule the world.

Trudy, his mother, feared that he has fallen in bad company in his quest for power.

She had informed them Troffer has made friends with a few wizard who promises to crown him the king of the world in exchange for a little bit of elf magic.

It was all in rage these days. Some wizards believed that sacrificing an elf on full moon helps them possess their powers.

It was because of this, that his town had to go into hiding with the help of spells and protective enchantments to preserve their existence.

Troffer thought sacrificing some was a small price to become powerful. He had been outcasted since elves found out of his intentions, but Trudy kept constant contact with her son.

"She fears he would tell those wand wielders how to find our town, dear Rugled! Oh how she cried, poor Trudy did," Beekey added with a touch of sympathy.

"She says we must make our magic stronger. Strong enough to deceive them, she says."

"Worry not, my dear Beekey. I will call upon a council in the morning and chant those spells again to make the barriers stronger."

He placed a wrinkled hand on Beekey's shoulder who at 3'3 inches reached his nose level. Relieved, Beekey let her husband lead her back from the hill.

And as the sun set behind trees, both of them hobbled their way towards their cottage to join their son for supper, unaware of the fact that they would not look upon the sun again ever.