Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction using characters and elements from the world of Harry Potter, created and trademarked by JK Rowling. I do not claim ownership over any Harry Potter characters or the Harry Potter world. This story is for entertainment purposes only, and is not claiming to be any part of the Harry Potter canon. Thank you to JK Rowling for letting me play with the characters and not suing me for writing them into a new situation.
Light of the Moon
Chapter 15
"I understand," King Riddle said to Hermione, politely refraining from commenting on her flushed face, "that you are something of an expert on house-elves. They are a pet project of yours?" He was settled back into her couch, quite content, it seemed, to continue their conversation.
Deciding to completely ignore her lack of information on the subject of house-elf procreation, she corrected, "I'm just particularly interested in elvish welfare." She took a deep breath before elaborating on what was often a sensitive subject for many. "My work in the Ministry involves ensuring the rights of magical beings. In Brittania, house-elves are treated as slaves and are cruelly abused by their masters."
The King nodded slowly. "I do recall seeing such things on my trips to Brittania."
A little bit of tension left Hermione's shoulders at his response to one of her most passionate topics. "I think it's unconscionable that humans could subject other beings to such terrible living conditions. House-elves are raised in fear, punished when they make the tiniest mistakes, or forced to punish themselves. They are poorly fed, receiving no payment for their service. They are forced to serve their masters. They have no choice. Not even any clothes."
It was an old argument of Hermione's, and the reason she'd chosen to pursue a career at the Ministry. She couldn't bear the idea of ignoring or deliberately overlooking the suffering of others. It was perhaps too soon to bring up a topic she had noticed was always a sensitive one to wizards. But the way King Riddle responded to their previous conversations made her feel easy that she could speak her mind and be heard.
The King made a grimace of distaste. "I have noticed this practice, and I'm afraid it feels rather barbaric to me. What possible value does a naked house-elf serve?"
"I feel the whole practice of owning house-elves is barbaric," she said, boldly. "To own another intelligent being, and to force it to endure indignities simply to provide a luxury for you, is utterly reprehensible. I think it is one of the Wizarding world's greatest failings, that they often choose not to recognize the rights of other magical creatures."
She could feel herself getting upset at the subject, as she did every time it was brought up. Being in Ophidia, where the house-elves all appeared to be in good health, at least, made it easy to forget what she had witnessed back home, and what she believed to be a basic fundamental right of all intelligent beings.
"Do the house-elves in Ophidia appear to you to be lacking in dignity, or in basic rights?" he questioned her, his eyebrows raised slightly.
"No," Hermione admitted. "They all seem remarkably well-fed and properly clothed." She remembered Pheme's gleeful consumption of several slices of milk pie. "I'm not sure what the system is like here in Ophidia, but does the fact that the house-elves all wear clothing indicate, then, that they are all free?" She tried to keep the hope out of her voice. But she had noticed how well-treated the elves were, and if it was the result of a system of employing free elves, she was excited to be able to share Ophidia's success with the Ministry in Brittania.
"What does it mean to you to be free?" he asked, instead of answering her question.
Without hesitation, she said, "It means they are not slaves, not forced into subservience. They have the freedom to choose."
"My understanding of house-elves, including the ones in Brittania, is that it is in their nature to serve." The King looked at her doubtfully. "Is it a question of freedom, or a question of wizards responsibly meeting the needs of those under their care?"
She frowned at his words and their implications. "I think house-elves, like other magical beings should be able to decide on how to meet their own needs and provide for their own care."
"I agree that expecting elves to go naked as a display of power is a misuse of resources; a foolish practice." He dismissed the traditions of other countries with a careless wave of his hand. "But if an elf is doing that which is in their nature, either clothed or unclothed, then is their freedom ever really jeopardized?"
"I don't understand." Hermione's eyes narrowed at him. "Are you saying Ophidian house-elves are simply well-dressed slaves?"
"You have not yet provided an adequate picture of what slavery means."
Hermione considered his words. He obviously expected her to make a clearer case. But she took heart at the fact that he wasn't dismissing her ideas out of hand. Trying to break her thoughts down into questions with simple answers, she asked, "Are house-elves forced to serve?"
He smiled. "Have you ever tried to force a house-elf to do anything? Many have served the noble families of Ophidia for generations. You could not stop them, even if you were inclined to try."
That was probably true. Though Hermione had seen many house-elves forced to do things they did not want to do, she had also noted many other house-elves who could not be convinced to stop serving their masters, either. She changed her tactic. "Do you own them?"
He seemed to consider the set of her face before he answered her, very carefully, "There are house-elves that belong to me, personally, and many more that belong to Castle Marvolo. I am responsible for their welfare, not unlike my responsibility to the other subjects of my kingdom, and they are responsible for service to me and my guests. It is very simple."
"That sounds like ownership," she pointed out, carefully keeping any hints of triumph out of her voice.
"Your feelings on ownership and freedom are very rigid and do not take into account the intricacies of relationships and customs. Everyone has a role to fulfill. It is as easily true of humans, families, businesses—as it is of house-elves."
"And yet," Hermione argued, "it is wizards, along with centuries of tradition, who are defining for the house-elves just what that role looks like. And they define it in a way that is favorable to themselves."
For a moment, Riddle appeared to consider her words, and she wondered if by some miracle she had made a point that he understood.
"Steward Aidos," he suddenly called, in what she was coming to recognize was his formal voice.
The diminutive elf appeared before him with the very quietest of pops. Today her uniform was a smart, high-collared dress of silver threads embroidered on black silk, and like all the others, it reached all the way down to the ground.
"Your Majesty!" Aidos greeted him with a bow. To Hermione she gave another bow. "Her Ladyship. How may Aidos serve?"
"Aidos," the King said, gravely. "My bride wishes to question you on the nature of freedom and servitude. As the highest ranked house-elf in the land, I was certain you could provide her with the information she seeks.
The elf's ears twitched with pleasure at the King's praise. If it was possible, she stood even taller, her little spine stiff and straight. "Of course, Your Majesty." Turning to Hermione she said, "Speak your questions, my lady, and Aidos will answer."
Though she knew she was being put on the spot, Hermione smiled down at the proud elf. "I do like your dress, Steward," she offered as a start. "As always, it has such beautiful embroidery on it."
Truly professional, Aidos was not remotely flustered by this apparent change in topic. "Aidos is very good with very small needles," she said with a pleased smile.
"In my country," Hermione began, before she saw Steward Aidos begin to frown at her wording. "I mean, in Brittania, it is customary for house-elves only to be given clothing when they are granted their freedom."
The Steward frowned and her ears drooped slightly, though she was too well-mannered to comment on another country's customs.
"I wish to know," Hermione continued, "if Ophidia's house-elves are free, or if they are in servitude to their masters."
For several moments, no one spoke, as the little elf stood there stiffly, her eyes on the ground. Finally, she said, in a meek voice, "Forgive Aidos, Mistress, but Aidos believes elves are both. They are free to serve their masters."
Hermione sighed inwardly. Honestly, it was not very different than many of the conversations she'd had with Brittanian house-elves, except that this elf did not immediately begin to self-harm and punish herself as soon as she discussed the subject of freedom.
She reminded herself to ask more specific questions. "Do you receive payment for your services, Aidos?"
"Aidos does not need payment. Aidos is a house-elf," she said, clearly confused. "Money is for wizards."
"How do you afford your dresses?" Hermione asked. "Or the thread for your embroidery?"
"House-elves receive the things they want from their Masters. Castle-elves ask the Steward, so as not to bother His Majesty. Aidos is the Steward and does not ask." Her ears shook in righteous indignation as she added, "But Aidos does not take too much! There is always enough for all!"
"No, of course not," Hermione soothed her. "You are a wonderful Steward, as I can see Castle Marvolo is run with amazing efficiency."
Appeased, Steward Aidos nodded her head. "A place for each one, and each one in his place." At Hermione's questioning look, the elf explained, "It is written on the Steward's desk, by a Steward many years before Aidos." It was clear the little elf had taken the motto very much to heart.
Hermione tried another question. "If a house-elf wished to do something else besides serve a House, perhaps travel and explore the world, would they be free to do so?"
"It is a sad thing when an elf has no more House to serve. But why would an elf need to stop serving their House to…travel? A house-elf can serve many ways, including while traveling." The look on her face made it clear that she did not understand such longings herself.
"What if the elf wished to serve a different House?" Hermione asked. "Are they free to choose a new place of employment?"
The Steward looked aghast at the thought. "Abandon one's House? No elf would do such a thing! Shame to the elf, shame to the House." She shook her head very violently. "We do not choose our House or our Masters! Or change them, as if they were just a skin we can shed."
"If you cannot leave, and you are not paid, Steward Aidos, then are you the property of House Marvolo? Or are you a free elf?" Hermione felt her questions had been leading to only one possible conclusion, disappointing thought it was.
The elf continued to stand still as she thought on this question. Her little hands were clasped together, resting carefully on the skirt of her dress. When she finally spoke, it was to ask a question. "Is His Majesty the King considered a free wizard?"
Taken aback, Hermione glanced first at King Riddle, who declined to answer the question. Turning back to the elf, she said, "Yes, the King is a free wizard."
"Pardon Mistress," Aidos said, "but His Majesty was born to House Marvolo, and so he serves Ophidia without payment. He cannot choose to serve a different House." She paused and then asked, "Is Mistress certain the King is a free wizard?"
Seeing the point that the house-elf was trying to make, and deciding this conversation was not going to go any further, Hermione nodded. "Yes, Aidos, the King is a free wizard, you are correct."
The elf's face broke out into a huge beaming grin. "Then house-elves are all free-elves, too, Mistress! Free to serve, as the King does." It was clear the elf considered herself relieved of a considerable burden.
After Hermione thanked her for her time, the elf Apparated away, happy to have served once more.
She looked at the King ruefully, and he raised one eyebrow at her.
"I had similar conversations with the house-elves in Brittania," she admitted. "Other than a very few independent elves, most elves are unaware or uncaring of their status as servants. Which is why I had chosen to focus my time in the Ministry on their welfare, and ensuring they were not mistreated." She sighed, remember how difficult that job had been. "I'm not truly certain I accomplished much, but I do hope the elves whose cases I handled, led happier lives."
She toyed with the strap of the bag she still held, finding it comforting to have something to fiddle with. Though she'd been proud of her work, it did make her sad to think how little she'd really accomplished during her time at the Ministry. And now she would no longer be available to help make her mother country a better place.
There was a flurry of movement as their two house-elves popped back in. Pheme, the tears gone now from her face, carefully set down a teapot along with some cups and saucers. Beside her, Ioke carried a large plate full of biscuits, the frown on his face at performing kitchen duties warring with his obvious pleasure at being assigned a task with Pheme.
Once Pheme had arranged the plate to her satisfaction and poured the tea, she curtsied and left.
Ioke remained awkwardly standing and staring at the place where she'd left, when the King dismissed him, as he had Ser Avery.
With a slight smile on his face, King Riddle turned to Hermione and said, in a reassuring manner, "House-elves in Ophidia are very well cared for, and you've seen for yourself that they are generally quite happy in their positions."
It was true, and so Hermione nodded, not seeing any reason to begrudge him that admittance.
Grabbing a cup of tea and settling back into the sofa, the King continued in a conversational manner, "I find that an important factor in happiness—for anyone, be it wizard or witch, Muggle or elf—is to find and be satisfied in one's place in the world."
Hermione thought of the motto that the house-elf had just quoted to her about everything being in its place. The idea of applying it to intelligent beings just rubbed her the wrong way.
"Sometimes we like to choose for ourselves what our place in the world is," she said, pointedly, as she carefully picked out a biscuit.
"Life is full of versatility," he agreed. "Still, there are some truths that are irrefutable, and the world suffers greatly when we try to deny them. A house-elf desires to be treated like a wizard no more than a wizard desires to be treated like a house-elf." As if in an afterthought, he added, "It is the same with wizards and Muggles as well."
"Wizards and Muggles are the same species," Hermione objected. "They are equal, despite the fact that one group has magic and the other does not."
"And yet it is not about equality," Riddle argued. "A house-elf is not less valued or less equal in its existence because it is not a wizard. A Pensieve does not complain that it is not a wand. We exist in the forms that we are, we answer to the purpose that we were meant for, and it is only when we try to deny these truths about ourselves and others that the world is out of balance. Wizards and Muggles have much in common, and share a same basic heritage, and yet they are fundamentally and irrevocably disparate."
"That's because you have lived in a society that has eschewed all contact with Muggles for hundreds of years. We are the same, really. They simply do not have magic. Not having magic doesn't inherently make one group inferior." Hermione thought of her own parents, of the friends she had growing up, of the life she would have lived had she never been told she was a witch. A perfectly valid lifestyle, had she not known she had a different choice.
Riddle considered what she said, as if he could see her thinking about the life course she'd abandoned to pursue her education at Hogwarts. "Where do you feel most at home—the Muggle world, or the Wizarding one?"
She resisted the impulse to roll her eyes as she chewed her biscuit. "The Wizarding one, of course. This is the world where I can perform magic. But if I could not, there's no reason I couldn't be equally at home in the Muggle world."
The king cocked his head to one side, his eyes hard on hers. "When you didn't know you could perform magic, did you truly feel at home in the Muggle world? Did you never feel that there was something different about you? That you had a destiny for something much bigger than you could see?"
She opened her mouth to reply that of course she was at home in the Muggle world. But those eyes seemed to stare right through her, causing her to question her gut reaction. She furrowed her brow in thought. Had she ever truly felt at home as a Muggle child? Didn't she struggle to fit into her family and with her classmates? Just because she was accepted didn't mean she felt at home.
She didn't consider being less than truthful as she knew he'd be able to tell, even though he claimed he wasn't reading her mind. She remembered that feeling in the back of her mind that had drawn her to Ophidia in the first place, the feeling that she was meant for more than the life she had, even in Wizarding Brittania. "I suppose so," she said, slowly, noncommittally.
Patiently, he emphasized to her, "Because you were never a Muggle. Though you lived, for a time, as a Muggle, you have been a witch since the moment of your birth. The magic in you speaks to the magic in all of us. A Muggle can never truly understand it." He shrugged. "Actually, they do not want to. They much prefer to remain in ignorance."
She really did roll her eyes that time. "That's easy for you to say, when you want to justify keeping them in ignorance."
Her statement was delivered in a biting tone, and he raised one eyebrow at her.
When she did not elaborate, he continued. "Muggles fear Wizards. At best, they are uncomfortable; at worst, they view Wizardkind as an abomination that must be eradicated. There are centuries of history to prove this. It is not just for our own protection but for theirs as well, that the two societies have been separated. Though I do personally believe there is a way we can have a society in which both wizards and Muggles have a proper place they are satisfied in, there is no government, no society strong enough, as of yet, to cope with that kind of upheaval."
"A 'proper place'?" Hermione scrunched up her nose in horror. "Do you mean to suggest that Muggles should serve Wizardkind? Like a…like a…like house-elves?"
The King shook his head slightly. "Hermione, you are the one that thinks being a house-elf is inferior. Or that making a distinction between Muggles and wizards means that one group has to be inferior. Understanding and accepting that which makes us different, and creating a world where each one can thrive according to their nature is not wrong."
"House-elves are a completely different creature. I don't pretend to understand everything about what motivates them, though I believe they deserve to be respected, cared for, and given the freedom to make their own choices."
"Agreed," Riddle said, amiably.
"But Muggles and Wizards are the same," she pointed out. "We have the same emotions, the same motivations, the same desires and fears. The only thing that separates us is the use of magic, and that's really no more different than any other inborn skill one group of people might have that another group might not."
Gravely, Riddle said, "We use magic as the basic delineation between Muggle and Wizard. But a squib, who cannot perform magic, is no more a Muggle, than a Muggle, who by some hypothetical means could perform magic, would be a wizard. It is the clearest sign we have, but it is not the strictest definition. If you could perform house-elf magic, would it make you a house-elf?"
She had to concede that it did not, though it galled her to acknowledge his point.
As if satisfied that she understood him, he sipped from his cup and said in a much more easygoing tone, "The differences between us may not be large, but they are significant."
Hermione hummed noncommittally, reaching for her own cup and taking a sip. Her hand shook the tiniest bit, and she grimaced as she tried to hide it. She could tell when she was getting too emotionally involved in a conversation, because her blood started pounding. She had this restless feeling, the kind she imagined a duelist might feel right before a fight—a burst of energy and righteous indignation. With nowhere for the energy to go, instead her body vibrated, poised for action, and she ruthlessly pushed it back down.
She had many more things to say on this subject, and it took all of her self-control to refrain from saying anything further. She had already come to the conclusion that King Riddle responded best to calm and logical arguments, and if she let on how much those prevalent attitudes toward Muggles really upset her, she would lose whatever respect she had gained from their previous interactions.
She reminded herself that it was only her first month in Ophidia. There was plenty of time for her to build her arguments, to guide common perception, perhaps even to actively work on more progressive laws. In a couple of weeks, she would be a queen, and though she'd have considerable influence, she certainly couldn't expect to change the views of an entire country—or even just one man—in a single hour.
Setting her cup back onto its saucer, she took a deep breath. When she looked up at Riddle, she realized he'd been watching her the entire time she was gathering her thoughts. His eyes held a knowing look in them as if he could see the internal battle she was having with herself.
She'd just decided that she would be proper and controlled, and perhaps attempt to change the subject to a less controversial one, but the amused look on his face all too easily made her forget that decision.
She scowled at him and huffed as she grabbed another biscuit off the tray and bit into it with no little irritation.
To her chagrin, he laughed most heartily and winked at her.
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