Hermione made herself sit still while she listened to Ginny's terrified rendition of the story. But her only thoughts were of the house-elves. To her dismay, not one of the house-elves had come to claim their Sickles. Oh, well, she thought. The poor things, they're afraid to make themselves seen while Ginny's here! She almost interrupted Ginny to ask her to leave, but thought the better of it.
Ginny finished her tale, a winding parable of house-elves in dark and windy caverns, at first ignoring her presence but later turning on her with fierce, red eyes and long nails. She looked embarrassed at the close of the story. "I know it doesn't sound particularly scary," she admitted, "more like something a seven-year-old would dream about. But you know the weird thing?" Ginny leaned forward and lowered her voice, even though no one else but she and Hermione inhabited the room. "I've always, 'Mione, wanted a house-elf. I know you wouldn't like that, but I do want one. If I grew up to play Quidditch for a national league, or work in the Ministry of Magic as the head of an important department – one with a large staff and visits from Fudge himself – then I would have a house-elf working for me, helping me organize my schedule and clean my house while I was too busy. She would keep my secrets for me. I would name her – "
"Ginny, what are you talking about?" asked Hermione, horrified. "House-elves are little more than slaves to the kindest masters! Why would you ever, ever want to have a house-elf of your own? Let me tell you why I was down here tonight."
The room grows silent, to listen as the wind howls past outside. Anyone looking out from a certain window, as I do, would see and hear the creaking of the intelligent willow tree, old and malevolent, as it batted away a tiny creature with pointed ears, dashing between its branches to reach a knobby knothole at the tree's base.
"Ginny, I came down here with all of the Sickles from S.P.E.W. memberships to give out to the house-elves. Breezy, my friend – I met him at the kitchens one day when I was down there to try to persuade the poor elves to – well, anyway, he came into the common room to stoke the fire, which I tell the house-elves is all right to do even if I am in the room, and I managed to have him take a Sickle!" Hermione finished her announcement in delight. "He'll use it to buy a trick from Zonko's to get rid of Peeves!"
"Hermione, one Sickle is nowhere near enough to buy a trick from Zonko's! And you know, there are probably enchantments keeping Peeves at Hogwarts. He's a poltergeist, Hermione, not just an ordinary ghost."
"I know, Ginny, but I'll find a way to persuade all of the house-elves to take some money!" She broke off at the sound of a scuffling noise to her side – but it was only a coal that had broken off from the fire. Oh, the gullibility of the young! If only this child, this brown-eyed girl, if only she knew! It makes me chuckle, oh, it does. It warms my heart. "They have to take it!" she continues desperately.
If the other girl had not been so tired, she would have a swarm of thoughts invade her head at that point; certainly, my head was overrun, though I'm not even alive!
The wind whistled again, rattling loose stones and shaking them loose on the roof. Both girls started as a pebble tapped against the window, blown by a gust of wind. "Ginny, let's go to bed. We have classes tomorrow morning." Hermione stood up from her table, careful to keep a hold on her tin of silver coins.
They ascended the stairs, each in their own particular brand of silence. They parted as Ginny went down the passageway into her dormitory; Hermione kept traveling up the stairs until she could turn right and see the window in her dormitory. Through the enchanted glass, the clouds parted perfectly to reveal a shining constellation.
Where would peeves go if he was turned out of Hogwarts?