Chapter 39: Ask An Elf – Really?

He then looked straight ahead, towards the fireplace.

'Sir Stephen? If you would be so kind, can you come here, please?'

There was a moment where nothing happened; then a quiet pop and standing before Ron was a House Elf, about three and half feet tall, wearing a broad smile as it greeted him with a flourish of its right hand followed by a graceful bow from the waist.

'Master Ron! A pleasure as always! How can I be of assistance today?' The Elf paused, looked around the room once then back to Ron. 'I detect silencing charms? Are we not to be disturbed?' He paused again and smiled slightly ruefully. 'And I detect the absence of the good Mistress Hermione?' He cocked an eyebrow at Ron. 'You know she'll be less than pleased if you do not involve her, Master Ron: she was not so last time, as I recall?'

'It's just Ron and Hermione, please Sir Stephen – no Master and Mistress nonsense here – and I like the get-up? Very sartorial!' said Ron, trying to ignore the House Elf's last question. 'Very … what would Hermione call it? 'Jeeves and Wooster'?'

'Do you like it, Master Ron?' The Elf patted the tweed check three-piece suit. He twirled around once for Ron on a pair of polished brown brogues so he could see the whole outfit. Ron thought he looked like a shrunken magical version of Bertie Wooster, from a Muggle television series he and Hermione had watched years ago, like he'd sprung from a very genteel 1920s: overall, he liked it, suiting the House Elf, lending gravitas to his manner. 'I am so very gratified that you do so, Master Ron; I have several suits like it – for all occasions.' He beamed at Ron. 'Thank you, Master Ron, for your kind words – 'very sartorial' – I shall remember them. How may I be of assistance, today?' The Elf looked pointedly at Ron now. 'Assuming I am assisting you and not the good Mistress Hermione?' The Elf continued to stare unblinking at Ron: he'd clearly noticed Ron's ignoring of the original request – where's Hermione?

'Again, less of the Master and Mistress rubbish; I am glad you like my view of your clothes: I do, they suit you very well,' said Ron, 'and I have not included Hermione in this meeting because I have decided I want her kept out of this, for her safety, at least in the first hour or two: after that? Well, God help me, we'll have to see.'

'Well, firstly, as for the 'Master and Mistress rubbish',' quoted the Elf back at Ron with a twitching of his lips, 'no, I think not. Though House Elves are free now here in Britain, thanks in no small degree to your good self, your wife and the redoubtable Master Harry Potter plus many hundreds of other wizards, my titles for you are part of my signs of respect and regard for you, your family and your friends. So, no, I am afraid I will continue to call you Master and Mistress.' He concluded.

'Alright, I see,' conceded Ron.

'Plus,' added the Elf, almost defiantly, 'it's tradition!' He eyed Ron even more closely. 'And I think we are going to speak of that a lot before we are through, you and I? Shall we sit, Master Ron?'

The Elf gestured towards the sofa. Perhaps not, thought Ron, if you knew what Hermione and I had been doing on that only a few hours ago but he soon suppressed that!

'Let's sit in the armchairs.' Ron gestured to the other side of the room and as he moved towards the nearest one, he pointed to the table, 'I have brewed some coffee – would you like one while we talk?'

'Oh, yes, marvellous, Master Ron; just what the doctor ordered, as Muggles say. The Elf clicked his fingers on his left hand and the coffee immediately began to pour into the mugs. He looked, slightly apologetically at Ron as he climbed into the armchair. 'Sorry, Master Ron: old habits die hard, as the muggles also say,' and he giggled as the coffee levitated into his and Ron's waiting hands. He took a sip and hummed appreciatively. 'Hmmm, very good.' He sipped again then settled further back into the chair which seemed to swamp him slightly as if he were a toddler or child, looking and talking to a large adult. 'Perhaps if you called me Stephen rather than used my title of Sir, I could stop using Master and Mistress?' He sipped again. 'Seems fair, no? Master Ron?'

'Now you know that's not going to happen; apart from the fact Hermione would never agree, it's a mark of respect for you and all Elves: you are one of the Elders of your people and God knows Elves have had pretty little respect as it is throughout our long history so … no, I don't think so, do you?' Ron laughed then took a sip of his coffee. Yes, it was very good: strong and bitter – just right to make a clearer head for deep discussion.

'Fair enough then, Master Ron,' laughed the Elf, 'we will call a truce, no?' He chuckled again which Ron joined him with. When their laughter died down, the Elf's demeanour became altogether more serious.

'Now we have settled what we will call ourselves, let me suggest we discuss what you need to do so, so obviously greatly – or why would you call me at … what is the time?' Sir Stephen peered towards the wall clock.

'It's 4.15 a.m.,' said Ron, smiling at the Elf, 'and I apologise again for getting you out of your bed so early – but you guessed right, I need to discuss some matters with you, urgently; they could wait yesterday.' Ron looked at the wall clock, assessing the amount of time he could spare to this discussion. 'Now that I have made my mind up, Sir Stephen, they cannot wait – but I have to warn you, I will be moving from here at 5 a.m. at the latest so we'd better discuss what we need to and …' Ron paused.

'Yes, Master Ron?'

Ron shifted a little in his seat so he could look fully at the Elf. 'I hate – deeply – to have to make this request but I may need to call on your assistance and the assistance of all good Elves who consider themselves our friends; more than simply the knowledge I will gain from our discussion now – if you are willing to part with it - but help after that – and some of it may be dangerous.'

Their conversation paused; Sir Stephen simply smiled back.

'Master Ron, I and my people are free, thanks to you – what we do we do with an open heart and a clear choice. For myself, I will pledge myself now to assist you. As for my people, I do not doubt their response either; however, when we are concluded, I will alert them immediately and if it is a yes, you will have whatever assistance can be afforded to you.'

'You understand I would only ask because …' began Ron.

'These are exceptional circumstances and you hesitate in asking because of the memory of one Dobby, late of the service of Master Harry James Potter and that noble Elf's sacrifice?'

Ron nodded once.

'The answer would be the same; I will stand with you – and my people if they are happy to do so: there is not a day goes by when we do not honour Dobby in our minds, so be of good cheer, Master Ron. This is a goodly request. Be satisfied that we are happy.' The Elf looked hard at Ron to make sure he understood.

Ron swallowed hard. 'Thank you,' he said. 'I shan't forget.'.

'No, I know you will not,' replied Sir Stephen. 'So, on we go then, Master Ron.'

'I am guessing you were contacted recently by some House Elves who had been brought into the service of William Aloysius Fothergill? Who had escaped with Jacob Parry?'

'Yes; they contacted me and I hid them at a safe house of ours.'

'Can you tell me where?' asked Ron.

'Yes – Hogwarts.'

'Ahh, that would be safe enough at present. What did they tell you?'

'Well, Master Ron, several things. Fothergill has managed to charm quite a few magical beings to him. As they told me their story, I realised powerful magic was involved if, once again, it could compel Elves to work against their wills and force new allegiances.'

'I'd wondered how Fothergill had managed this – how could he compel Elves to work for him. Our Elves legislation removed all those binding charms and allegiances, it is all left to the Elf. So, how could it be done? Parry couldn't explain fully, some kind of silencing jinx from Fothergill, but he guessed enough that the three Great Tomes that Fothergill has, have enabled him over the years to create compulsion charms of the greatest power. I know, I have seen them in action – believe me, it's very … disquieting.' Ron thought back to the face of Adam, disappearing into nothing…

'Yes, I thought that must be the case when I heard their story: it took them all their combined efforts of Elvish magic to escape with Parry.'

'Have you met Parry?' asked Ron.

'Yes, I am afraid Jacob only remembers or can only reveal certain facts – we felt responsible for him so limited his ability to explain, in case he was recaptured. We enabled him to reveal just enough, to just the right person.'

'He did not tell us this,' said Ron, shocked. 'Why did you do this? He could have explained so much more to us, to Hermione, so much sooner – we could have been weeks ahead of where we are now!'

'No, you could not.' replied Sir Stephen simply.

'Why? Because …' began Ron.

'No, Master Ron, he would not have been able to,' Sir Stephen said patiently, 'bear with me a little; I know you have little time but all must be explained clearly: Elves and Wizards cannot always act in harmony – our magics do not work that way. My companions could not act of their own free will – you see, they first had to protect the Great Tomes that Jacob carries by sealing and concealing them as completely as possible on his person – they did this before they even came to see me with him.'

'Why?' Ron was now feeling non-the-wiser and he glanced quickly at the wall clock: time was moving on.

'Ha, simple, my good Master Ron: because the Great Tomes told them too.'

Ron froze in his seat.

'I am sorry … what!?'

'They told them too,' stated Sir Stephen, taking another sip of his coffee, 'this really is excellent coffee, Master Ron – allow me.' And with a wave of his hand the cafetiere refilled with hot coffee, affine smell of crisp, roasted coffee beans filling the room. 'Another drop, eh?' said Sir Stephen. Their cups, having floated over to the cafetière, refilled and now floated back to them. 'Ahh, that's better. You look, Master Ron, like the coffee is needed.' Sir Stephen chuckled and sipped his coffee.

Ron took a deep pull on his drink, the rich taste and smell seeming to restore him after that shock. 'Right, let me get this straight: the Great Tomes told the Elves to protect them within the person of Jacob Parry because – and Parry told me this and I cannot believe I am repeating this – because he is a person who is 'pure in spirit'?

'Oh yes, Master Ron, indeed that is correct. Jacob Parry, for all is faults, is, deep down inside, pure in spirit – he is just looking for the opportunity in life to show this – and he is not even aware of this.'

'How on earth can you possibly know this, Sir Stephen?'

'Because we can see it.'

'See it!?'

'Yes, of course – we can see magic, literally, at will, as we wish it. We can see wizards' purity (or lack of) as we deem it necessary – if we need to see it, we simply look. It is there.'

Ron sat dumbfounded. 'How do we not know this?' he asked.

'Well, you – wizards, that is - have never really asked and, of course, so much talk about Elvish magic has been banned or discouraged since the days of the Founders.'

'What!? You mean Gryffindor, Ravenclaw … and the others? Why would they discourage such talk?'

Sir Stephen looked kindly at Ron. As Ron looked back, he felt the Elf was looking at him as if he were a particularly suffering patient at St. Mungo's.

'I am sorry, Master Ron – this is going to be a great shock: the Founders didn't write The Great Tomes.'

Ron hadn't moved. He was pretty sure he'd just heard the Elf say something …

'Yes, you heard me, perfectly correctly, I am afraid, Master Ron and you know I would never lie to you: the Founders, great as they were, did not write these works that are some of the greatest wizarding works ever produced and whose lore is the basis of so much of your world.'

Ron felt himself asking the question even though he knew the answer. 'So, who wrote them?'

Sir Stephen smiled and sipped his coffee slowly.

'Well, we did, I am afraid, Master Ron.'