"Your mother's pregnancy isn't really the only reason I've been out and about a little more often lately," Drucy's father told her as they dribbled glistening ball-shaped lights out of their wands and all over the garden bushes in the cold December morning. "Honey, I wasn't that much younger than you when my parents - your grandparents - got taken off to Azkaban. My mom was a bit of a fanatic, even more than my father. I remember the day that Voldemort died. She had a complete and total breakdown. My father was trying to talk to her, motivate her to get off the floor with all kinds of horrible ideas about torturing and killing people. I just hid in my bedroom, or peeked out from the hallway. I… I'm glad you never met her, Drucy. She just…" He paused. "I really shouldn't be saying terrible things about my own mother. But you need to know that she was terrible."
"It wasn't long before my father got her up and moving again, and they were looking, just searching for anybody who showed any interest in their cause whatsoever. They roped in this kid - oh, he looked so much bigger to me then, but he was practically still a child - they took him off with them, talking about torturing and killing, and I was honestly terrified, Drucy. I thought that they were going to try to make me one of them. Maybe they would have. So I just pretended to not care about anything. I pretended to be lazy, unambitious. I pretended so hard that I made myself believe it, so that I wouldn't slip and let them know that I understood what they were doing. I just… I was the quiet dummy who got sent off to Durmstrang, because they sure as heck weren't going to send me to Hogwarts. And that was okay with me, I'd rather be the quiet dummy than to have to say 'no' to them, if they ever asked anything of me. It was around the time I got sent off, that they were both captured and taken off to Azkaban. I was afraid that they'd come looking for me when they broke out - I was just about getting out of Durmstrang then - but they never did. I guess that to them I was still the quiet listless dummy, and by then, that's what I was to me, too, and everyone around me.
"Watch out for habits, Drucy, especially habits that you adopt out of self-defense. When you have to not be yourself to survive, you lose sight of who yourself really is. I don't even know if this is any more me than I was before. But I'm going to try." He turned for a moment and watched her, smiling, until she paused and looked back at him in turn. "It was in part your bravery, little one, finding your way in and getting to use Parseltongue without bringing the school down on you in terror, that made me think that I could wake up and be more than I've been. It was your mother's new pregnancy that made me think I should."
"That wasn't bravery," Drucy admitted. "Everything just seemed to kind of happen to me…"
"And you didn't run away, and you didn't lie, and you didn't become unlike yourself."
"Esme said Hogwarts changed me…"
Her father shook his head. "No. Hogwarts is bringing out things in you that were already there. You're paying attention to things you never cared to see before. It's not making you a different person. It's developing you. Isn't that what a good education is supposed to do?"
Yes indeed. After lunch, Drucy found herself doing something she never would have thought of doing before the school year. She presented herself to her mother as the family left the table and Topsy started slowly gathering the dishes. "Mom, I need to talk to you." She took a breath, nervous. "I have to talk business to you."
Millicent did not laugh and did not look stern. She looked surprised, and then she smiled. Drucy hadn't been used to her mother smiling this much at her since toddlerhood, and she was starting to feel a bit strange about it. "Well, if it's business, you'd best come join me in my office."
Millicent Bulstrode's office was a pretty tower room that Drucy hadn't seen in years. The walls were lined in bookshelves and filing cabinets. The desk had two piles of paperwork on it. The chair faced the angled windows, which formed a little area where comfortable chairs had been set for small conferences. Drucy found herself reminded of the Headmistress's office, but her mother's office was brighter and the rugs were newer. However, the office had the same feature that Drucy had seen in McGonagall's office and would never, ever have asked McGonagall about. "Mom! Is that… is that a Butterfly Maker?"
Her mother looked almost embarrassed, and a little sternness came into her voice. "Your father picked it up for me." Drucy suddenly thought of something she had never thought before. Her mother's sternness… was it an act? Was she being defensive? What could Drucy do about it? The answer came to her immediately and she spoke without thinking. "The Headmistress has one in her office, I noticed it. The base is really classy. I only knew what it was because-" She fell silent, suddenly shocked. She'd almost told her mother…
"You tested it, I know," Millicent said, gesturing to one of the conference chairs and sitting down in another. "Drucy, you've hidden things from me before. Your greensnake, the Butterfly Maker, that time you ate half of a chocolate cupcake and hid the rest under the couch cushion when you heard me coming… I know more than I let on. I even know you were trying to charm me and put me at ease just now. It's okay, you're transparent as glass, but I appreciate that you made an effort. Now what's this business about?"
"It's about Topsy," Drucy gasped out, practically falling into her seat, feeling a distinct mix of horror and relief. "She said you're getting two younger house-elves. She's frightened. She knows that older house elves are turned out sometimes, and she doesn't want to be without a master. I said… I said I'd speak to you… She comes to me when I call her at night, she sings to me, and it helps me…"
Her mother rose, her face carefully straight, and stepped over to the window, facing away from Drucy, hands clasped behind her back. "It's true that Topsy is getting too old to handle this place by herself. You need to understand, Drucy." Her words came slower now, more careful. "She can't keep up with the workload. You think it's cruel to turn her out, but it's just as cruel to work her to death."
"Mom! You're not really going to…"
"However," her mother continued, still speaking slowly, "there are other jobs, simpler jobs, straightening up a smaller room, maybe fetching things on occasion, I can think of a way to make sure she isn't abandoned, that she still has work to do. She would make a very reliable young lady's maid. But you would have to really step up on this, Drucy."
"I'll do it," Drucy answered immediately. Then she just as quickly felt a moment of sheer dizziness, riding on a wave of sheer chutzpah. She knew what her mother was saying, and this was a change, a responsibility that she didn't know if she wanted. But she couldn't let Topsy down. "I'll be her master - her mistress - I'll take her as my own house elf."
"You have to understand," Millicent pointed out, turning back to face her daughter, "that you would be responsible for her well-being. You will need to write a statement of intent. I've got several that you can look through and get an idea of how to do it. Then we will need to file it officially. Finally, when you take possession, you will need to provide Topsy with something to wear that is not clothing."
"I have to write paperwork?" Drucy objected. "I thought it was… quicker than that, and simpler."
Millicent smiled, but her lips thinned slightly. "Thank Hermione Granger," she said wryly. "The changes were put into law a couple of years ago. You have to announce your intent to possess and to treat your house-elf kindly. Topsy has to mark the paper, too, though she's only signaling her understanding of the contract, as 'consent' is a bit of a strong way to explain a compulsion."
Drucy closed her eyes for a moment, taking a breath. Then she nodded. "Okay. Show me the examples and I'll do my best."
"Mom's finally got you into paperwork!" Esme exclaimed later that afternoon, watching Drucy reading, frowning, and trying to scratch out a trial document at her little desk in the large bedroom they shared. "I came looking to see if you wanted to play, but it looks like you've got something important on your mind." Glad for the momentary break, Drucy laid down the quill and explained the situation to her sister. "Oh, Drucy," Esme responded, looking amused. "You thought Mom was going to fire Topsy?"
"Well, I…" Drucy stammered, and Esme's expression quickly changed.
"Granted, she isn't as young as she used to be, and you know, I think it's really good of you to make sure she'll keep a good home. I bet Mom's glad to find something that you're willing to write for, too. I mean, you know, you're doing a good thing, Drucy. This is good for you and good for Topsy. Ah… want me to look it over, give you some help?"
Drucy had no idea what Esme was trying to say, but she felt sort of complimented somehow, and she was very glad to have her sister's help. The job was, in the end, a bit easier than Drucy had feared. This kind of formal writing was sort of like pretending - you tried to sound fancy and hoped you succeeded. She began to wonder if Ministry officials really were this sort of formal, or if they also pretended and wrote careful words and drank Butterbeer while watching Butterfly Makers on the side. Usually, she would have immediately asked Esme, but she didn't feel like doing that this time. She kept the question inside and let it brew.
The girls were late to supper, but it was worth it to hand the document over to her mother and see that rare and precious look of utter approval. Drucy was oddly hungry considering that she had simply been sitting and writing for nearly half the day, and somehow she was even more aware than usual of how wonderful dinner and dessert really tasted.