Series - Elysium: The Retelling of Nielliun Morne

Chapter IV - The Peculiar Institution

A/N - Okay, this chapter deals a bit with house elves. We're all painfully aware of those "trophies" mounted on the wall of Grimmauld Place. Ewww... right, er...

So I'm just writing a quick piece about that! Also, Dumbledore seems to deal Sirius a pretty abrasive reputation when it comes to his treatment of Kreacher at the end of Order of the Phoenix. I just wanted to develop that a little (mostly in Sirius' defence) and expand Sirius-the-child's personality at the same time.

Personally, I don't really care for house elves. I mean, you wouldn't catch me with a S.P.E.W. badge. I tend to find them annoying. However, I certainly think they deserve better than they get! Anyway, I've been rather off on this subject lately, so I've just included it in a chapter here. I'm beginning to ramble...

Anyway, welcome to the fourth instalment of Elysium! Hope I haven't been depressing everyone too much! Well... yes, I do. That's sort of the point. Yes, I am evil.

The Peculiar Institution

"If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals." - Sirius Black, Goblet of Fire*

Over two years had passed since that Christmas when Sirius and Andromeda had crouched outside a door and listened to their parents discuss them like dirt marring the otherwise perfect white of a field of snow. Listened to their mothers talk of them like cockroaches.

Sirius was eleven and he was currently testing his luck to see how long he could remain in his room before his mother sent a house elf to rouse him to breakfast. He dreaded the sound of a polite cough outside his door and a "Young master is beckoned to the table."

It was a warm day in May and Sirius was ticking off the days till he was due to receive a letter from Hogwarts in mid-July. Sirius was reading a very interesting book about centaurs. He was currently captivated by a thrilling chase in which a clan of centaurs chased a band of greedy wizards from their forest with arrows and spears, but Sirius found himself getting hungry. He mentally weighed the torture of his mother's presence versus the torture of his grumbling stomach. "Perhaps I can make do with a few toffees..." he said to himself, fishing a bag out from a drawer in his bedside table.

As it turned out, Sirius was forced downstairs by the voice of a house elf, but it came not at all in the form of a courteous summons. He was just popping a candy in his mouth when he started horribly and nearly toppled from the dais upon which his four-poster bed was raised.

Inhuman, shrieking hysterics wafted up three flights of steps to the second floor and Sirius thought surely his blood must be congealing in his veins at the very sound of it.

While rows were commonplace in the household, Sirius had never heard real screaming. He haphazardly threw on jeans and a shirt, forgetting to remove his nightshirt first. He realised this as he was dashing out the door, but decided it wasn't worth fixing it. The screech issued again, sounding less surprised and more desperate this time.

Sirius vaulted over the banister when he was a few steps from the ground floor, landing fairly lightly, and sped off down the corridor. The din was coming from the basement.

It was the most insane scene Sirius had ever seen.

His father was yelling at his mother, waving his hands in the air. His mother was hissing at his father and shooing a young, protesting Regulus out of the kitchen. Regulus was putting up a decent fight. "But I want to see!" he was saying and Sirius wondered what he meant. All three house elves were going absolutely spare, all of them still squeaking and tumbling over each other in their panic. "No, Master! No, Mistress!" they were prattling incoherently and it took Sirius a moment before he realised what was wrong with these words. When had a house elf ever said "No, Master" or "No, Mistress"? It was the most improper thing a house elf could do in its miserable life-- refuse a direct order-- and Sirius had never, ever seen one of their own elves dare to do so. What could the order have been that it caused this riot?

The oldest elf, a crooked little thing named Teensy, was cowering behind the other two, wringing her knobbly hands and chewing on her filthy coal sack that she wore as a toga. She was bordering on senile as house elves go and she wasn't good for anything involving hard labour. She had been in the family for a long time and was nearing 90 years old. Her son, a sprite and strong but slightly temperamental elf named Kreacher who had lent the most volume to the cries of "no", was laying hands on everything from kitchen chairs to frying pans and was attempting to construct a pathetic barrier between them and the wizard family. The other, a usually benign elf named Blirp, was humming to himself madly and had grabbed Teensy's head and pressed it forcefully to his chest, nearly suffocating her.

Suddenly, as Sirius opened the door and took all this in in a few seconds, three waist high figures dashed past him and away, knocking him down the steps. It took him a few moments to realise that it had been Kreacher and Blirp, hoisting the near-weightless, bony Teensy over their heads, and making a run for it.

"GODDAMN, Sirius!" his father roared aggressively, marching over to him and hoisting him up onto his tiptoes, fist clenched at his son's collar. "We'll never find the little bastards now!"

Sirius did not know how to respond to this, confused and intimidated. His father's face was a blotchy crimson, his salt-and-pepper hair rumpled, and Sirius only noticed that he held a butcher's knife clamped in his other hand as he was released roughly.

"You had to open the door!" his mother shrieked shrilly, her short stature seeming much larger than it really was when she was angry.

It took all his nerve to ask, "What's happening?" Sirius was badly shaken, but he always had nerve.

No one answered him, but his father stamped away, violently flinging the massive knife at the wall where it shivered, embedded, and sent a reverberating hum echoing from the walls. "Take your brother," snapped his mother, shoving Regulus toward him.

"Think they went to the attic?" said Mr. Black to his wife, biting his words off sharply.

"They'd know we'd look there first, Janus," replied Mrs. Black, rubbing her eyes. They were becoming a bit more coherent.

"What's happening?" Sirius repeated, stamping on Regulus' foot as he leaped up and down, looking fit to wet himself.

"We were just about to put the thing out of her misery when you let them escape."

"Out... of her-- misery?" Sirius stammered.

"They were gonna cut off Teensy's--"

"SHUT UP, REGULUS!" bellowed their father.

"You were going to decapitate Teensy?!" said Sirius incredulously, his eyes feeling like they may drop out of his head at the sheer madness of this idea.

His mother promptly took both her sons by the ear and led them painfully out into the hallway and into an antechamber. Sirius stared at his mother, wondering whether her soul had been replaced with that of a troll over the night, assuming that she possessed a soul at all.

Sirius had always thought that, disregarding his dislike for his brother, he and Regulus looked rather similar. Now-- looking at this face which was so physically like his own-- he thought he saw absolutely no resemblance when it was plastered with a look of such hunger and strangely un-childlike wanton expectation with the promise of blood. And Sirius had always seen his brother as a predictable, spineless git with Jarvey dung for brains. He now thought he may need to reconsider this impression.

Sirius was feeling very insecure and very threatened. "Mum?" he asked tentatively, using the name that he very rarely used.

She looked exasperated. The lines around her eyes were pronounced as she narrowed them. "You've seen the plaques in the corridor," she said as though this were a sufficient explanation. Sirius would require much more exposition.

"Yeah! They're all wrinkled and twisted--" Regulus exclaimed.

"What about them?" Sirius interjected.

"Well, the family's been doing this for generations. Once elves have served their purpose... wizards have always... disposed of them. Since the Middle Ages. For a long time." She seemed to be trying to make a point. Sirius was not at all impressed by the appeal of tradition.

"So? It's illegal now. There's got to be a law that says you can't--"

"A superficial law. The family stopped about a century or so ago, but your Aunt Elladora says there's a loophole in the law and they've been carrying on the tradition for about ten years now. Even if caught... it would just be a fine or something, Sirius."

"That's not the point!" said Sirius, realising his voice was becoming too loud if he didn't want to anger his mother.

"And what is the point, boy?" Mrs. Black replied, irked. "Elf rights? You know perfectly well they don't have any practical rights."

"Yeah, but... Teensy's always been good. She worked really hard and all... she's just a bit old. I'll... I'll take care of her myself."

Tesiphone Black looked as though she had just heard her son say "I've just lain a 13" Augurey egg". Sirius was mildly surprised at his own words.

"Take care of her? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. You're not going to mollycoddle an ailing house elf, Sirius. It's below you and I won't hear of it. As for Teensy being a good servant, I'd call her adequate. She dropped a tea tray yesterday and Elladora says that's the beginning of the end for an elf. She goes. As soon as we can find her. I've got a good mind to send you after her."

Sirius shook his head violently. He didn't want to be responsible for the capture of a doomed house elf. Of the three servants, he was the most fond of Teensy. Sure, sometimes she was forgetful and didn't make sense, but he was somewhat creeped out by Kreacher and Blirp had the intelligence of an especially obtuse toad. Maybe she was better off dead, but he didn't want to see her beheaded.

"You let them escape," said his mother, annoyed. Then, more to herself, "Perhaps they're in the dumbwaiter shaft..."

"Do you have to cut her head off? I don't want to see her head hanging on the wall."

"What? Weak-stomached? Just think of it like a deer..."

The look on Sirius' face must have belied his disgust. "Fine. That's it. You don't have to watch, Sirius, but I swear that elf is not long for this world. They're not human, you know. Decapitating them, it's just... well, just like chickens, boys."

With that, she stalked away, muttering under her breath. Sirius was frankly surprised that she hadn't been more harsh with him considering his transgressions. "Chickens don't plead with you," thought Sirius silently. He wondered again why she had been so gentle and also wondered if it had had anything to do with his quoting house elf decapitation as illegal. Did she think he was going to tell someone? Who would he even have told? He hardly knew anyone outside of his psychotic family. Perhaps he'd write to Andromeda... it sounded as though she'd had to deal with this before.

"What are you on about, Sirius?" said Regulus, bringing him back to reality abruptly. The 7-year-old's face was alight with that disturbing bug-eyed look of expectation. It bothered Sirius greatly. "Want to go see if we can find them? Mum said about the dumbwaiter..."

"You, you get away from me," said Sirius, stepping away from his little brother.

He returned to his room, his head feeling hot even as he broke into a slight cold sweat. Sirius was coming to the conclusion that his parents were not only haughty and elitist, they were sadistic. Sure, the decor had always implied that, but it was now so open. Beheading the house elves? Sirius was not even remotely hungry anymore and he couldn't imagine how he ever would be.

Was there any way to stop it? No. Not realistically. They were going to find Teensy and kill her and punish the others within the next hour or two and there wasn't anything to be done within that span of time. He'd easily be overridden in any endeavours at protest. He could conceivably make his parents pay afterward, but that was dodgy. He could talk to Andromeda or somehow send an owl to the Ministry of Magic. But that would never work... his parents gave thousands of galleons to the Ministry every year and they'd let something like house elf abuse slip through the cracks without a second thought. So there was nothing he could do.

Sirius, not really thinking about it, finally got dressed properly, made his bed, and tidied up. He wasn't sure why he did this. He was not a tidy person by any means and was usually content to let his room collect clutter and dust until he could no longer hurdle the piles (in which case, he cleared a path from the door to the bed, the bed to the dresser). However, he supposed that now he was doing it simply to keep from sitting idle. If he was busy it wouldn't bother him so much...

He did not leave his room for hours and he heard no news. He knew that, had something happened, the brat Regulus would have burst into his room, screeching about blood and tendons and spinal cords and... Sirius swallowed hard and returned to taking a ridiculous inventory of all his comic books.

Twice, he'd thought he may have to vomit, but managed to control it. Knowing he'd regret it, but losing his mind with the internment of his room, he opened the door and crept out into the hall. The house was silent.

Remembering that his parents had discredited the attic as too obvious, Sirius decided that that's where he'd go. He didn't think the elves would be there either so it was the most neutral place to go.

The attic was a ghostly, strange place. More so than the rest of the house. Light filtered through large, circular, amber-coloured windows at each end of the long loft. The eaves slanted sharply above, a good 14 feet high at the very peak. The yellowish lighting gave everything an old, dry appearance and the rays illuminated floating dust motes, drifting unhurriedly in mysterious slipstreams. There were mountains of crates, most of them covered in sheets and tarps. There was broken, mouldy furniture and boxes full of spare candles, boxes full of winter clothing, boxes full of books that wouldn't fit in the library, boxes full of... ears?

Sirius jumped before he realised that the six fleshy ears he'd seen poking from a box were not severed, but attached to the quite-alive heads of the three house elves. He cursed under his breath. He didn't want anything to do with it.

"Hello," he whispered to them and they replied with a look of sheer terror. All three of them sported bruises and evidence of battery. They must have been punishing themselves severely for their unimaginable misbehaviour.

"Young master!" squeaked Kreacher, horrified. Compulsively, he snatched up a heavy, serpent candlestick and began to beat himself in the face with it. Sirius wrested it away from him.

"Stop it!" He looked at the quailing form of Teensy and again felt sick. "Why are you hiding in the attic?" Obviously he meant, "Why the attic and not somewhere more creative", but they misunderstood.

"Master and Mistress wish to dispose of Teensy!" said Blirp, looking at Sirius as though he must be rather slow. "Teensy is a good elf! Teensy should not be treated so! Teensy--"

"I know, I know! I mean, if they come up here they're sure to find you. We've got to find a better place to hide you." Sirius knew he'd be in extreme trouble if his parents discovered that he'd helped rather than exposed the house elves. They did not respond, but continued to cower.

It took a few minutes, but Sirius managed to find a place that was much less accessible and much less obvious than the crate that they had chosen. After all, he had spotted them immediately upon coming up to the attic and he hadn't even been looking. It was a nook under the eaves, camouflaged with cobwebs and loose insulation. It was very difficult for Sirius himself to even reach as he had to tread carefully over the beams (the gaps between were stuffed with only insulation and plaster and-- should he step on it-- his foot would crash through the ceiling of whatever room was right below. His parents would probably avoid something like that. Of course, if they suspected the elves in this new hiding place, they could simply Summon them...

Kreacher and Blirp again hoisted the mumbling, slack-jawed Teensy over their shoulders and skipped out over the beams, their dull, grey-tan skin blending in beautifully with the background as they nestled into the niche. Sirius could tell that they were still horrified with themselves for their blatant disobedience. Sirius was impressed with their resolve-- that they hadn't given in to their innate nature and given themselves up.

"Stay there and don't you let them catch you," said Sirius urgently, hoping that his order would override his parents orders to reveal themselves.

He stood stock still. He'd just heard something creak below. Were they finally coming up to the attic? Yes.

Thinking quickly, Sirius did not hide because he knew that if they found him hiding it would look suspicious. Instead, he began digging through a box of books, flipping through their pages and looking as though he earnestly was looking for something.

His mother's head appeared as she climbed the steps, followed by the rest of her body and then his father's. Sirius looked up, trying his hardest to look as though he'd just noticed them.

"Sirius? Get out of here," growled his father, openly irritated with their lack of evidence as to the whereabouts of the renegade house elves.

"I was just looking for a..."

"Go, Sirius!" hissed his mother, also at her wit's end. "We don't have time for your house elf rights drivel. Go on! Allez-vous, garçon!" she said, reverting to the angry French that she used when running out of legitimate options in English to express her point.

He had to go or risk their scepticism about why he was in the attic. He brushed past them, attempting to put on a look of indifference.

Late in the afternoon, as Sirius was again ensconced in his room, he heard a strange scuffling in the hallway, followed by eerie silence. He heard two heavy pairs of feet making their way down the stairs. With the poignant absence of three lighter pairs, Sirius' heart leapt and he thought perhaps they hadn't found the elves. Of course, they couldn't stay in the attic forever, but Sirius was living in the moment, as he always did.

Bucking up his nerve, he made his way to the door and peeked out a tiny crack. Then he opened it a bit wider, slipped out, and looked over the landing banister a few feet away in the hall. Looking down, he saw two bulky, silhouetted shapes making their way down the dark stairwell below him.

"Why are they so large?" he thought to himself before coming to terms with the reason. His mother's small, skinny form was laden down with Kreacher. His father's already heavy frame was exaggerated with Teensy and Blirp. They were caught. And they were going quietly.

Sirius heard no scream. He heard so signs of punishment. In his mind, he imagined he heard the thwock of a blade, but knew that it was not real. Somehow, the quiet was more disturbing than the clashing that may have happened. He did not see Regulus for the rest of the day and assumed that his brother had not witnessed the event, perhaps having been locked in his room to keep him away. Sirius did not go down for dinner and, though he still felt ill, his stomach rumbled horribly, empty for the whole day.

The next morning, when Sirius went down to breakfast, not a single word was said of the day before. His parents were strangely and very falsely bright, talking to Sirius of his going to Hogwarts soon. Sirius replied minimally and monosyllabically, eating mechanically.

He caught glimpses of both Blirp and Kreacher clearing away the breakfast dishes as he left the dining room, but there was no sign of Kreacher's mother. No one ever acknowledged her absence, but she was just... gone.

There was only a single sign that something was different in the house. And it, like the silence during the execution, was very subtle and very unsettling rather than barefaced and terrifying. Kreacher's personality had changed entirely.

Of course, he'd always been a bit off, but Sirius now downright avoided him. In the span of the next few weeks, he wandered into Sirius' room, boldly, a couple times and began rambling about the honour that it was to serve the noble family of Black. He talked about how he would gladly do anything the Blacks ever asked of him and Sirius could have sworn he heard the elf mutter something about plaques under his breath. After a few minutes of this, Sirius always shooed the elf out. He was flabbergasted that the experience had not made Kreacher defiant as would have made sense, but only that much more fawning and obsequious. It did not make sense to the straightforward mind of Sirius.

Also, he purposely avoided the corridor where he knew the house elf heads were mounted. He doubted that his parents had put up Teensy's head (at least not yet), but it was still a hair-raising reminder. With all the time he had to think, Sirius finally deliberated upon a decision. Not only was the decapitation of house elves appalling, the entire system of slavery was a strange and archaic institution that seemed out of place in the 20th Century. A peculiar institution.

Sirius lived just one day to the next, trying to keep himself occupied, and existing only for the Hogwarts letter that he knew would be coming to take him away.

A/N - Wow. Only a couple references to the Appendices in that whole chapter! I'm proud of myself for skimming it down, really.

Well, I'm going for a lake holiday for the next week and then I've really got to catch up on some Summer Term assignments, so this may be the last update for a little while. I have many, many things planned, though!

Thanks again to my reviewers, some old, some new:

BellethePhilosopher'sCookie - thanks so much for acknowledging me in your bio! Yes, it's highly unfair that J.K.R. killed Sirius and I had to write the first chapter of this story to deal with the pain else I may have lost my mind and screamed or beat my head against the wall or developed an unhealthy obsession with cucumbers. NO, I'M KIDDING! Oh, and I've never even had formal schooling with Latin or Greek. I'm a fourth-year French student, but I'm just a liguistic freak in general.

LilyoftheValley - thank you for reassuring me that my ramblings of Sirius' family weren't too boring. Yeah, I've ALWAYS had this picture in my head of Sirius playing the piano in a room all alone. I've even got some sketches of it. So I just decided to throw it in here to... get it out of my system or whatever. Thanks!

dingledoo - I continually find it amazing that people are so touched! Anyway, I guess you could say Lily and James are changed a bit by the afterlife. They're not different people by any means, but they're just more subdued and peaceful. You'll notice that it's already working on Sirius by the end of the chapter. Although, you'll eventually see that some of the things James said WERE pretty funny. You'll just have to keep reading to understand.

Lassemista - I've already thanked you, mon amie (that means 'my friend', remember? lol), but I will thank you again. Thanks! Thanks also for adding me to your favourites list. You brighten my day when all my other friends abandon me! (That sounds cheesy, right? lol).