1918 - February

A good house elf is never heard and never seen.

Those were the words Hoppit grew up with, the mantra that was repeated throughout his education. He was the youngest of five, and had to be the best if he wanted a good family to adopt him. Elflings were never just "given" to a family, much as they would love to. They were much too valuable for that. So although his parents worked for the Ancient and Most Pure Black family, there was no guarantee that he would too.

Every year on his birthday, his parents would catch the fattest, juciest rat and cook it in Hoppit's favourite stew, and he'd be given a sugar mouse for dessert. He had to make a wish and if he caught it within twenty seconds, he would get his wish.

Every year he caught it. And every year he wished.

1921 - July

A good child is never heard and always seen.

Those were the words Marius grew up with, the mantra that was repeated throughout his education. He was the third of four, the middle child that no one is certain what to do with. In any case, none of the children were important until they showed their first signs of magic. Pollux was six before he was acknowledged as part of the family. Cassiopea had been three.

Every year on his birthday, the house elves would bake a huge cake, enough to last him the week, and they would sing to him in the kitchen since he wasn't allowed in the dining room yet.

Every year he blew the candles out. And every year he wished.

1923 - August

'HOPPIT!' Violetta Black bellowed up the stairs, her voice echoing throughout the halls.

With a large crack, Hoppit appeared, bowing and scraping.

'Yes, Mistress?'

'I want all of the silverware polished so the guests can see their reflections. It's Casseopia's eleventh birthday, and everything needs to be perfect. And make sure that Cygnus has his cigarettes placed at the head of the table. Do I make myself clear?'

'Yes, Mistress.'

'Then what are you still doing here?' Violetta's eyes flashed menacingly, her powder puffed cheeks blowing out.

Without another word, Hoppit scuttled towards the guest dining room, narrowly dodging the kick aimed at him on the way out. There would later be a price to pay for that; the Blacks were his masters, and if they wanted to punish him, then he wasn't to avoid that. He just couldn't help this reflex, the one that had never properly been trained out of him.

He had been so happy the day Violetta and Cygnus had decided to hire him. He was following the family tradition, replacing his aunt after she had an unfortunate mishap with the oven. Now, Hoppit wondered if it really had been a mishap.

The other house elves spoke of the wall in the attic with pride. Hoppit could only pray that he wouldn't be taken up there himself.

1924 - July

Marius stared at the window, watching the rain drip slowly down the side. He picked a drop and egged it on, hoping that it would fall to the bottom before the others did. It was a better game than guessing which house elf did what to be mounted on the wall.

Today was his birthday. Ten years old, and his present was to be locked in the attic all day, waiting for his magic to show. If he starved, if he was cold, if the floorboards broke under his weight, then surely he would demonstrate his aptitude. Out of self preservation, if nothing else, his father had told him, the cigarette smoke puffing into Marius's eyes and making him cough as the lock was turned in the key behind him.

Five hours later, Marius had unscrewed the hinges of one of the curtain poles, wrapping himself in the thick musty material and sighing in relief. His mother would be furious at the mothballs and the smell, but right now he thought it was worth it. His stomach growled, but he steadfastly ignored it. He had already tried telling it there was no one there to listen, but it wasn't listening to him.

Through the rain, Marius saw his older brother and sister pull up in a town car. This was the day that the Hogwarts Express got back, but instead of his usual excitement, Marius scrunched his face into a pout. It would just be a reminder of his failure, a reminder that his parents couldn't be lenient with a possible Squib.

It was the first time he had let himself think the word. It was the first time he was scared it might be true.

So he burrowed himself deeper in his curtain, taking comfort in the fact that it was dark pink, his favourite colour.

1925, May

'This is for your own good, do you understand?' Cygnus Black said from inside his cloud of smoke.

Hoppit saw one of the other house elves smother a cough, and his own eyes were starting to itch. He wished he could rub them, but he had to stand as still as stone, lest the Master decide that he could do with one less elf in the house.

Another flash of pink magic zipped out of Cygnus's wand to whip his youngest son, spraying the carpet with dark red blood. Dorea gasped, but she was soon stilled by Casseopia. The youngest of the Black siblings, Dorea was quickly forgiven at the age of six. Her own magic had burst out of her in a colourful array of springtime flowers that morning. Hoppit knew, because he had been preparing for tomorrow's feast all day.

As the sixteenth severing charm slashed at Marius's legs, the soon to be eleven-year-old fell to his knees with a cry, protecting his head with his hands. Soon, those two were covered in glistening liquid, as Cygnus made short work of the boy.

'Do you think I enjoy this, boy?' Cygnus roared, lurching forwards. 'Well, do you?'

Marius merely whimpered, mumbling inaudibly as he huddled closer to the floor.

'It's your own bloody fault, you know.'

Finally, this resulted in a gasp from his buxom wife.

'Cygnus!' she said breathily, and Hoppit breathed a silent sigh of relief. House elves were to be punished for subpar work, but Hoppit had never known a wizard to act this way to their own kin. 'Language!' Violetta admonished.

That did it. Hoppit brought his tea cosy to his mouth to muffle the cry of disgust, pressing the cloth so tightly against his face that he could barely breathe. Unfortunately, this gesture did not go unnoticed.

'Something wrong, filth?' Cygnus growled.

Hoppit didn't even know how he saw through the haze his tobacco smoke was creating.

'Nothing, oh great and mighty master, sir,' Hoppit stammered quickly, bowing so low that his nose touched the ground. 'Hoppit is overcome with awe at master's strength, sir.'

'Are you talking back to me?' the Black patriarch roared, lurching forwards and grabbing Hoppit by the throat.

Hoppit thought it best not to answer, in case it was misconstrued, but that merely made Cygnus angrier. Before he could do anything though, Violetta stayed his hand.

'Oh don't dirty yourself, darling,' she said. 'We'll just have him put up on the wall.'

1925, May

Marius sobbed as he was thrown onto the attic floor, his ears pounding in time with his father's steps down the stairs. Something soft and heavy hit him, and he realised that it was his favourite pink blanket from his bed.

'Darling, we don't want to do this,' his mother said, her eyes streaming with tears. 'Please don't make us do this.'

Marius turned his head, unable to look his mother in the eye. Didn't she know that if he could do magic by now, he would have?

He waited until the door was fully closed, the key turned in the lock, before he gathered up his blanket and let it absorb his tears.

Pink is a strong colour, his father's voice resonated in his head. Pink is for boys, and red is for men, and it symbolises the blood we spill to keep our family safe. Can you do that, Marius?

His father hadn't said that it would be Marius's blood spilled, and for what? Was this keeping his family safe? Was Marius no longer family?

A large crack! Interrupted his thoughts.

'Young master,' the house elf bowed, its nose scraping against the floor.

It looked just as worse for wear as he did. Its hands had been ironed, its ears were wrapped in bandages and its pillowcase was torn so badly that it was a miracle it was still attached. The fresh white linen in its hands was a stark contrast to the rest of its appearance.

'Go away,' Marius groaned.

It was most likely there to remind him of his duties. But Marius knew that he wouldn't be able to do them. In one month, his birthday would come and go without a letter, and he would be burned off the family tapestry.

'No.'

Marius stared. A house elf never disobeyed its master. Everyone knew that, even little Dorea.

'Begging pardons, young master, but you will be wanting these bandages.'

The house elf snapped its fingers and a bowl of steaming Murtlap essence appeared. The elf ordered Marius to strip, and he did so, bemused. He was glad for it, though, as the creature started laying the strips onto his skin, easing his pain and healing the welts.

'Why are you doing this?' Marius whispered. 'Aren't you afraid you'll get caught?'

The house elf stared back at him, its large orbs resolute with defiance.

'If Hoppit is to be mounted on the wall, Hoppit wants to have done something good in Hoppit's life.'

'You're wasting your time, Hoppit,' Marius replied, amazed that the elf actually had a name. He hadn't ever thought about it, but he supposed that house elves were a bit like people too. Maybe even a lot like Squibs. ''They'll get rid of me when they realise I don't have any magic.'

'Then it's a good thing Hoppit does,' the elf beamed proudly.

With another snap of its fingers, a whole plate of sliced turkey breast appeared. Marius reached forwards, his mouth salivating, but the elf waved its hands forwards and he automatically stepped back.

Behind him, the window shattered, the glass sliding across the floor to almost touch his feet. Turkey forgotten, Marius jumped back with a yelp.

'Hoppit can only help young master to the end of the road,' the house elf said sadly. 'After that, the young master must find his own way.'

'Aren't you coming with me?' Marius asked. 'They're going to kill you!'

'Hoppit has no clothes,' Hoppit replied. 'Hoppit must stay as master and mistress command. House elves does not have free will like wizards, sir.''

Marius looked down at his pink blanket. It wasn't clothes, but he wore it whenever he could. Reluctantly, he slipped it from his shoulders, handing it to Hoppit. He would be needing all of his own clothes.

'Here,' he said. 'I hope this is enough.'

'More than Hoppit could ever dream for, young master,' the house elf said wondrously, taking the fabric between its hands. Suddenly, Marius was happy to have given it to the elf. It would take more care of it than anyone else ever could. 'More than Hoppit could ever dream for.'

Assignment #3, Mythology, Artemis: Write from the point of view of a creature

Restriction - no Hogwarts Houses.

Aladdin - write about a survivor

Character: Marius Black

Dayna Jurgens - (object) glass, (word) defiance, (phrase) free will

Pink day - write about someone who likes pink

Mean Girls - (colour) pink

Black Magic - write about someone performing dark magic

"A cigarette is the perfect type of a perfect pleasure It is exquisite and leaves one quite satisfied. What more can one want?" - Oscar Wilde

Insane House Prompt

365 prompts: Listening to the rain on the window

Card fames: Black Jack - write about someone from the Black family

Scavenger Hunt - write a family fic

Library lovers: Twilight - write about a magical being, starting over, and loss

Lent - only minor characters

Snake week: cottommouth - (word) mumble

WC: 1919