Chapter 20: Of Tea and Tears
As December dawned with chilling wind and icy ground, Chrys and Ginny abandoned their jogs outside in favor of walks through the castle.
Not that they had much time for walking at the moment. Third year was when classes really started upping in intensity, so Chrys was sympathetic to Ginny's complaints, but also…
"Just wait until next year," Chrys warned her. "If you think Third Year is hard, then Fourth will really kick your arse."
"Yeah, but when I'm in Fourth, you'll be in Fifth—and facing down your O.W.L.s," Ginny reminded her. Chrys groaned.
"You don't have to remind me, Remus has already done that."
"Oh? What has Professor Lupin said?" Ginny asked, curious.
"Well, first he said how proud he was of how Harry faced the Horntail—you should've seen Harry blush." Chrys grinned. "Then he said how furious he was that Harry'd had to face a dragon in the first place…"
Ginny nodded. "Mum said something similar. She blew up at Charlie for not telling her what the task was."
"And then he started on about how he knew it was a stressful year for us, but he has faith in our abilities to rise above the stress and stay focused on studying for our O.W.L.s next year," Chrys finished.
"That's what you get for having a teacher for a godfather, I suppose," Ginny thought.
Still, O.W.L.s were not until next year, so, for now, Chrys was focused on just surviving this year.
In Care of Magical Creatures they were down to ten skrewts. Hagrid was still hoping they would hibernate, so he had the students set up boxes with blankets and pillows.
The skrewts were not appreciative. They burnt through their boxes immediately and went on a rampage.
"Don' panic, now, don' panic!" Hagrid shouted, as the class, well… panicked. Malfoy led the way for most of the class, hiding in Hagrid's hut and barricading themselves in.
"Stupefy!" Hermione shouted. A jet of red light shot out of her wand and hit one of the skrewts. The spell bounced off of its shell. Hermione ducked and the red light zipped over her head. The skrewt continued advancing. Chrys kicked it hard.
"Nice one, Chrys!" Dean said, watching it soar over Hagrid's garden fence.
Hagrid didn't agree. "Chrys—don' hurt them, now!" He ran after it with one of the ropes they were meant to be using to restrain them.
"Sorry," Chrys said, not very apologetically.
"Watch out!" Seamus called out. A skrewt was sneaking up behind Dean. It blasted off its end. Dean dodged, but the blast still cut across his cheek. Seamus roared and grabbed it with his bare hands, wrapping the rope around it.
It blasted off again. Seamus let out a stream of curses and dropped the end of the rope. Chrys snatched it up and quickly tied it to the fence. Seamus cradled his blistering hand to his chest as Dean watched him in concern. Chrys thoughtfully pulled on her dragon hide gloves.
Lavender shrieked. Her robes had caught fire. Chrys grabbed the skrewt as Hermione extinguished the flames. Then the skrewt popped free and scuttled up Chrys' arm. Its suckers latched onto her neck and started drawing blood. Hagrid ripped it off of her and tied it to the fence. He looked around at the grumpily subdued skrewts.
"One… two…" He frowned. "On'y nine o' them. Where's the las' one?"
"Um…" Lavender pointed. The last skrewt had backed Harry and Ron up against Hagrid's hut. Harry and Ron shot red sparks out of their wands. The skrewt paused.
"Don' frighten him, now!" Hagrid called over. "Jus' try an' slip the rope 'round his sting, so he won' hurt any o' the others!"
"Yeah, we wouldn't want that!" Ron snapped, sending out more sparks.
"Well, well, well… this does look like fun." Rita Skeeter leaned against Hagrid's fence, a good ways away from where the skrewts were tied up. Chrys sort of wished she'd get closer.
Hermione eyed her warily as Hagrid wrestled the last skrewt away from Harry and Ron, and then tied it up with the others.
"Who're you?" He asked Skeeter.
"Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter." She smiled. Chrys counted three gold teeth.
Hagrid frowned. "Thought Dumbledore said you weren' allowed inside the school anymore."
"What are these fascinating creatures?" Skeeter pressed on.
"Blast-Ended Skrewts," Hagrid grunted.
"Really?" Skeeter said with thinly veiled disinterest. "I've never heard of them before… where do they come from?" Hagrid flushed. Skeeter noticed. Now she looked interested.
"They're very interesting, aren't they?" Hermione said quickly. "Aren't they, Harry?"
"What?" Harry said blankly. Hermione stepped on his foot. He winced. "Oh yeah, interesting…"
"Ah, you're here, Harry!" Skeeter said, smiling toothily at him. "So you like Care of Magical Creatures, do you? One of your favorite lessons?"
"Yes," Harry said firmly. Hagrid smiled much more genuinely at him.
"Lovely," Skeeter said. "Really lovely…" She glanced into the hut where most of the class was waiting nervously, and then around at the few who had stayed to help Hagrid… and their injuries. She turned back to Hagrid. "Been teaching long?"
"This is o'ny me second year," Hagrid admitted.
"Lovely," Skeeter said again. "I don't suppose you'd like to give an interview, would you?" Chrys' eyes widened. She tried to motion warningly at Hagrid behind Skeeter's back. Hagrid stared at her, confused. Skeeter turned to look at Chrys, who quickly slapped a neutral expression on her face. "Ah, don't think I've forgotten about our interview, Chrysanthemum." Skeeter winked at her. Chrys struggled to keep her face neutral. "But for now…" Skeeter turned to Hagrid again. "What do you say? Share some of your experience of magical creatures? The Prophet does a zoological column every Wednesday, as I'm sure you know. We could feature these—er—Bang-Ended Scoots."
"Blast-Ended Skrewts," Hagrid corrected her, smiling. "Er—yeah, why not?"
Skeeter and Hagrid made a plan to meet in the Three Broomsticks later that week.
"Well, goodbye, Harry, Chrysanthemum!" Skeeter waved to them as they started off towards the castle. "Until Friday night, then, Hagrid!"
Harry shook his head. "She'll twist everything he says," he muttered.
"Just as long as he didn't import those skrewts illegally or anything," Hermione said worriedly. Chrys grimaced.
"Well, they're not on the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures' suspected trafficking lists—I checked."
"Well, that's all right, then," Hermione thought. She frowned at Chrys' hesitant expression. "Right?" Chrys ran her hand through her hair.
"…Maybe. The thing is, I couldn't find any record of Blast-Ended Skrewts anywhere. They're not in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them—or any of the recent magi-zoology journals. If they're an unregulated species Hagrid could get in a lot of trouble…"
"Still…" Ron said. "Hagrid's been in loads of trouble before, and Dumbledore's never sacked him. Worst that can happen is Hagrid'll have to get rid of the skrewts…" His eyes glinted. "Sorry, did I say worst? I meant best." They laughed.
"Still a while before dinner," Ron said as they stepped into the entrance hall. "Want a round of chess, Hermione?"
"I suppose so," Hermione said doubtfully.
"Oh!" Chrys stopped suddenly. "I almost forgot—Hermione, I've found the kitchens!"
"What?" Hermione said. "When? How come you didn't tell me sooner?"
"Well, I finally buttered Lee up enough so that he let something slip—that the kitchens were behind a painting of a bowl of fruit, and you need to tickle the pear to get in."
"Tickle the pear?" Harry repeated, laughing slightly.
Chrys nodded. "Only, I didn't know where the painting was, and Lee wouldn't say, so me and Ginny have been searching for it on our walks. We found it this morning, and we were going to look inside, but Mrs. Norris showed up, so we made a run for it."
Harry nodded. "Understandable."
Mrs. Norris was Filch's cat, and about as friendly as he was.
"Well?" Hermione said. "I don't see Mrs. Norris anywhere about now, so, what are we waiting for?" She looked around. "Where is it?
"This way." Chrys headed through a door to the right of the stairs.
"Hold up," Ron said, as he and Harry hurried after them. "Hermione, I'm not barging into the kitchens and trying to make the house-elves stop work, I'm not doing it—"
"Here it is," Chrys said, stopping in front of the painting. "Let's see…" She reached up and tickled the green pear. It giggled and wriggled until it turned into a green handle. Hermione pulled it open. Ron opened his mouth again, but Hermione shoved him inside.
Chrys looked around. Brass pots and pans were stacked way up towards the high ceiling, glinting in the light of a fire towards the back of the room.
"Miss! Chrys Potter!" A familiar voice squeaked out excitedly. Chrys was nearly thrown back as a house-elf jumped on her, hugging around the middle. Chrys laughed as she realized whom it was, and bent to hug him back.
"Dobby?" Harry said incredulously.
Dobby moved to hug him too. "It is Dobby, sir, it is!" His voice was somewhat muffled as his head was pressed against Harry's stomach. "Dobby has been hoping and hoping to see the Potters, and the Potters have come to see him!" Dobby let go and stepped back to look at them. His giant green eyes were filled with tears.
"Oh, don't cry, Dobby," Chrys said.
"Oh, Dobby is just so happy to see you, miss!"
"We're happy to see you too," Chrys said. She smiled at his outfit. He was wearing a tea cozy as a hat, with various badges pinned to it (including a Weird Sisters badge), a horseshoe patterned tie, children's football shorts, and one black sock and one orange and pink striped sock. "I love your clothes!" And besides the clothes, he certainly had a more healthy and happy glow to him than when she'd last seen him. "You look great!"
"Thank you, miss." He smiled back at her. Harry was squinting closely at the black sock. Chrys wondered if it was the same sock Harry had used to set Dobby free two years ago.
"But, Dobby," Harry said. "What are you doing here?"
"Dobby has come to work at Hogwarts, sir!" Dobby told him excitedly. "Professor Dumbledore gave Dobby and Winky jobs, sir!" Hermione, who had been looking around at the hundreds of elves around the kitchen, looked up sharply.
"Winky?" Harry repeated. "She's here too?"
"Yes, sir, yes!" Dobby took Harry's hand and pulled him past four long tables. The tables were positioned in proportion to the tables for the four houses in the Great Hall. The elves bowed and curtseyed as they passed. Everyone besides Dobby was wearing a tea towel toga with the Hogwarts crest stamped on it. Dobby stopped in front of the fireplace and pointed. "Winky, sir!"
Winky was sitting on a stool. She was wearing a child's skirt, blouse, and hat with holes cut out for her ears to fit through. The clothes themselves were of high quality, but they were stains on the shirt, and burn on the skirt.
"Oh dear," Chrys said under her breath.
"Hello, Winky," Harry said hesitantly. Winky burst into tears.
"Oh dear," Hermione echoed. "Winky, don't cry, please don't…" Winky cried even harder. Dobby was still smiling brightly.
"Would the Potters like some tea?"
"Er—yeah, okay," Harry said. As soon as he spoke, six house-elves walked up behind him carrying a silver tray with a cup of tea for each other them, a jug of milk, and a plate of biscuits.
"Good service!" Ron said, impressed. Hermione frowned at him, but the elves all beamed and bowed before leaving again. Dobby handed out the cups of tea.
"Thank you, Dobby…" Chrys frowned as she took the tea, frowning as she watched Winky cry.
"You're welcome, miss!"
"Er, do you want some tea, Winky?" Ron tried, but Winky didn't appear to hear him.
"How long have you been here, Dobby?" Harry asked.
"Only a week, Harry Potter, sir!" He said. "Dobby came to see Professor Dumbledore, sir. You see, sir, it is very difficult for a house-elf who has been dismissed to get a new position, sir, very difficult indeed—" Winky stared crying even louder. Her nose dribbled onto her front.
"Does anybody have a tissue—" Chrys started to ask. A house-elf was immediately at her side with a Hogwarts crest embossed handkerchief. Chrys took it. "Er, thank you." The house-elf curtsied and swished away again. "Um, Winky, do you want...?" Chrys held the hanky out to her. Winky didn't move.
Dobby took it from her and wiped at Winky's nose as he continued, "Dobby has traveled the country for two whole years, sir, trying to find work! But Dobby hasn't found work, sir, because Dobby wants paying now!"
The house-elves nearby looked away, ashamed.
"Good for you, Dobby!" Hermione said.
"Thank you, miss!" He grinned. "But most wizards doesn't want a house-elf who wants paying, miss. 'That's not the point of a house-elf,' they says, and they slammed the door in Dobby's face!" He said. Chrys frowned. "Dobby likes work, but he wants to wear clothes and he wants to be paid, Harry Potter… Dobby likes being free!" The other house-elves started edging away from him as if he had some sort of horrible disease. "And then, Harry Potter, Dobby goes to visit Winky, and finds out Winky has been freed too, sir!" Winky flung herself off of her stool, screaming and beating her fists against the floor.
Hermione crouched down and tried speaking soothingly to her. "It's alright, it's okay, Winky..."
Chrys chewed nervously at her lip.
Dobby raised his voice to be heard over Winky's sobs, "And then Dobby had the idea, Harry Potter, sir! 'Why don't Dobby and Winky find work together?' Dobby says. 'Where is there enough work for two house-elves?' says Winky. And Dobby thinks, and it comes to him, sir! Hogwarts! So Dobby and Winky come to see Professor Dumbledore, sir, and Professor Dumbledore took us on!" Dobby smiled tearfully. "And Professor Dumbledore says he will pay Dobby, sir, if Dobby wants paying! And so Dobby is a free elf, sir, and Dobby gets a galleon a week and one day off a month!"
Hermione frowned. "That's not very much!"
"Professor Dumbledore offered Dobby ten galleons a week and weekends off…" Dobby shuddered. "…But Dobby beat him down, miss… Dobby likes freedom, miss, but he isn't wanting too much, miss, he likes work better."
"And how much is Professor Dumbledore paying you, Winky?" Hermione asked.
Chrys groaned. "Hermione… no…"
Winky stopped crying abruptly and glared at Hermione.
"Winky is a disgraced elf, but Winky is not yet getting paid!" She squeaked. "Winky is not sunk so low as that! Winky is properly ashamed of being freed!"
"Ashamed?" Hermione repeated, confused. "But—Winky, come on! It's Mr. Crouch who should be ashamed, not you! You didn't do anything wrong, he was really horrible to you—" Winky slapped her hands over her ears.
"You is not insulting my master, miss! You is not insulting Mr. Crouch! Mr. Crouch is a good wizard, miss! Mr. Crouch is right to sack bad Winky!"
Chrys sighed. "Winky…"
"No!" Winky pressed her hands harder over her ears.
"Winky is having trouble adjusting, Chrys Potter," Dobby told her. "Winky forgets she is not bound to Mr. Crouch anymore, sir. She is allowed to speak her mind now, but she won't do it."
"Can't house-elves speak their minds about their masters, then?" Harry wondered.
"Oh no, sir, no," Dobby said seriously. "Tis part of the house-elf's enslavement, sir." Hermione looked up at the word 'enslavement.' "We keeps their secrets and our silence, sir. We upholds the family's honor, and we never speaks ill of them—though Professor Dumbledore told Dobby he does not insist upon this. Professor Dumbledore said we is free to—to—" He beckoned Harry closer. Harry and Chrys bent down close to him. "—He said we is free to call him a—a barmy old codger if we likes, sir!" Chrys smiled slightly. Dobby giggled nervously and straightened up. "But Dobby is not wanting to." He shook his head, his ears flapping. "Dobby likes Professor Dumbledore very much, sir, and is proud to keep his secrets and our silence for him."
Chrys was very tempted to ask 'what secrets?'
"But you can say what you like about the Malfoys now?" Harry asked, grinning.
Fear flickered in Dobby's eyes. "Dobby—Dobby could," he said doubtfully. His shoulders hunched. "Dobby could tell Harry Potter that his old masters were—were—bad Dark wizards!" Dobby stiffened, shaking. He raced over to the nearest table and started banging his head on it. "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"
Harry grabbed him by the tie and pulled him away from the table.
"Breath, Dobby," Chrys reminded him. "You aren't bound to them anymore—remember?"
"Yes, yes…" Dobby was still shaking a bit. "Thank you, miss… sir." He nodded at hem. "Thank you…" He rubbed his head.
"You just need a bit of practice," Harry said gently.
"Practice!" Winky squeaked. "You is ought to be ashamed of yourself, Dobby, talking that way about your masters!" Chrys frowned.
"They isn't my masters anymore, Winky!" Dobby said defiantly. "Dobby doesn't care what they think anymore!"
"Oh you is a bad elf, Dobby!" Winky groaned. "My poor Mr. Crouch, what is he doing without Winky? He is needing me, he is needing my help! I is looking after the Crouches all my life, and my mother is doing it before me, and my grandmother is doing it before her… oh what is they saying if they knew Winky was freed? Oh the shame, the shame!" She bent her head and hid her face in her skirt.
"Winky," Hermione said determinedly. "I'm quite sure Mr. Crouch is getting along perfectly well without you." Chrys shot her a warning look, but Hermione went on. "We've seen him, you know—"
"You is seeing my master?" Winky said breathlessly. She looked up to stare at Hermione. "You is seeing him here at Hogwarts?"
"Yes. He and Mr. Bagman are judges in the Triwizard Tournament—"
"Mr. Bagman comes too?" Winky frowned. "Mr. Bagman is a bad wizard!" They stared at her. "A very bad wizard! My master isn't liking him, oh no, not at all!"
"Bagman—bad?" Harry asked, confused.
"Oh yes." Winky nodded. "My master is telling Winky some things! But Winky is not saying… Winky—Winky keeps her master's secrets…" She started sobbing again. "Poor master, poor master, no Winky to help him no more!"
There didn't seem to be anything else they could do for Winky at the moment. So they sat and finished their tea as Dobby told them what he planned to do with his wages.
"Dobby is going to buy a sweater next, Harry Potter!" He pointed at his bare chest.
"Tell you what, Dobby," Ron said, sounding quite relaxed as he munched on his fourth biscuit. "I'll give you the one my mum knits me this Christmas, I always get one from her. You don't mind maroon, do you?" Dobby beamed. "We might have to shrink it a bit to fit you, but it'll go well with your tea cozy." Chrys tried not to laugh.
On their way out, the other house-elves eagerly offered them more snacks to take with them upstairs. Hermione refused, but the house-elves looked so disappointed, and the pastries look so delicious, so Chrys, Harry, and Ron loaded up their pockets.
"Thanks a lot!" Harry told them. "See you, Dobby!"
"Harry Potter…" Dobby hesitated. "Can Dobby come and see you sometimes, sir?"
"Course you can," Harry said. Dobby grinned.
"And me too," Chrys added. She looked around and then bent down, dropping her voice to a whisper. "Let me know if there's anything we can do for Winky, okay?" Dobby nodded.
"You know what?" Ron said, as they headed upstairs. "All these years I've been really impressed with Fred and George, nicking food from the kitchens—well, it's not extremely difficult, is it? They can't wait to give it away!"
"I think this is the best thing that could have happened to those elves, you know," Hermione said, ignoring him. "Dobby coming to work here, I mean. The other elves will see how happy he is, being free, and slowly it'll dawn on them that they want that too!"
"Let's hope they don't look too closely at Winky," Harry said dryly.
"Oh, she'll cheer up," Hermione said, a little doubtfully.
Chrys frowned. "I don't know, Hermione. Even if it wasn't, like, a healthy environment for her to be in... She worked for Crouch her whole life, and then was separated from him so suddenly and painfully… I doubt she'll just get over it."
"Once the shock's worn off, and she's gotten used to Hogwarts, she'll see how much better off she is without that man."
"She seems to love him," Ron said, his voice muffled by the cream cake he'd just started on.
"Doesn't think much of Bagman, though, does she?" Harry said. "Wonder what Crouch says at home about him?"
"Probably says he's no a very good Head of Department," Hermione thought. "And let's face it… he's got a point, hasn't he?"
"I'd still rather work for him than old Crouch," Ron thought. "At least Bagman's got a sense of humor." Hermione smiled slightly.
"Don't let Percy hear you saying that."
"Yeah, well, Percy wouldn't want to work for anyone with a sense of humor, would he?" Ron figured. He pulled a chocolate éclair out of his pocket. "Percy wouldn't recognize a joke if it danced naked in front of him wearing Dobby's tea cozy."