"It's Black, isn't it?"

Lyra turned to see one of Professor Flitwick's pseudo-apprentices leaning in the doorway. The one who was covering her section, in fact. She didn't actually remember her name, either, some Ravenclaw who'd left school in Maïa's first year, one of the insufferable, snooty ones who thought she knew everything about everything because she'd studied this, you know — as though reading a couple of papers on a topic meant she knew everything about it.

"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage," she said, in her best imitation of Dru's politely disinterested, kindly fuck off tone.

The older girl scowled, but she couldn't say something like you know exactly who I am without admitting that she also knew exactly who Lyra was and thus ruining her disingenuous opening. "Catherine Parr. We've met."

"Wait, really? Like the queen?"

Cathy couldn't seem to decide whether she ought to be annoyed that Lyra really hadn't known her name, or exasperated because she probably got that all the time, at least from people who knew any pre-Statute history to speak of. Her parents probably thought they were funny. (Honestly, given the look on her face, Lyra agreed. That was hilarious.) "Yes, really. What exactly do you think you're doing? You're not an apprentice. You can't just move in. This is Éanna's office."

"Why do you ask questions you already know the answers to? I never claimed to be an apprentice, and who's going to stop me? Éanna doesn't mind." Éanna, in fact, did mind — but on a scale of annoying shite she could do to him, moving her study into his office was barely a three. And if she was around to annoy him, she would also be there to tell well-meaning twats like Cathy to bugger off. "What do you care? It's not your office."

It was only a couple of doors down from hers — the elves had apparently decided to just consolidate all the new assistant teaching staff in what used to be the Theory department, rather than attempt to renovate and/or restore all the departments' auxiliary offices in the month or so they'd had between the announcement that everyone would be taking on apprentices and the beginning of the school year.

Ros had sounded rather annoyed about it, actually. Though that might have been because Lyra was questioning the decision in the first place. Or because Lyra had just spent twenty minutes arguing about whether it was really necessary to move the study she'd set up for herself to use while time-turning. Yes, it was in one of the wings they were opening up to host the extra judges and observers for the Tournament — including Queen Victoria, who was apparently going to come up in person for the opening ceremony — but it wasn't that close to the residential areas of the wing, and it was warded, it wasn't like anyone (including the Queen) was going to just wander in, or something.

Lyra suspected Ros just didn't want to give her any excuse to be that close to anything resembling a diplomatic situation. Not that it would do any good, she was definitely still going to introduce herself — it would be rude not to, since she had invited them, and all. Actually, now that she thought of it, it was also possible that Ros was just inconveniencing Lyra because she knew Lyra was the one who'd created all this extra work for the elves. Yes, they did like having work to do, but with so many important guests, they'd be hard-pressed to keep up the standards they prided themselves upon, from providing a wider range of food at meals to keeping the public areas of the school — pretty much the entire castle, outside of the dorms, the elf-spaces, and the professors' private rooms — spotless, despite the greater-than-usual number of undoubtedly untidy teenagers about.

Not that it had been intentional, but she definitely couldn't admit that. House elves considered being unthoughtful and causing inconvenience for others to be among the vilest of all possible sins. Lyra was aware that she made a terrible elf (no matter what Sirius might think — bastard), but that didn't mean she wanted to mortally offend them and risk their passive-aggressive wrath. Rudeness was fairly repaid with rudeness, and elves could make a lot of inconvenience for a human who lived in their house. And Ros still hadn't entirely forgiven her for the babbling potion and/or giving everyone a cold prank. Oops.

But in any case, it wasn't as though Lyra was actually bothering Cathy, here. Or, well, she hadn't been, before she poked her nose in. Now she looked kind of uncomfortable, actually, eyes flicking over Lyra's shoulder to Éanna, who was still studiously ignoring them both in favour of some alchemy journal or other. "You can't just go around bullying and taking advantage of people just because..."

"Because?" she repeated (almost) innocently, a smirk tugging at her lips, too amused to pretend she had no idea what the older girl was hinting at. She was hardly the first person who had suggested that Éanna needed protecting or defending from Lyra. The first person had actually been Maïa, apparently concerned that Lyra being relatively accommodating of Éanna being Éanna was some sort of prelude to her driving the poor boy completely mad. Which she could, but there would really be no challenge in it. It was much more amusing to keep him around and watch him make everyone else uncomfortable just by existing. (Also, Snape had been very clear about his intention to hold her to their agreement regarding the marking if Éanna decided he couldn't handle Hogwarts and the various twats who inhabited it and went home.)

"You know," the older girl hissed. Completely unnecessary, since Lyra was pretty sure Éanna wasn't listening, but also because it wasn't like Éanna didn't know he was a spaz, and that people inexplicably thought that meant he was incapable of taking care of himself, or at least hitting her with a stinging jinx whenever she was being absolutely insufferable.

"No, actually, I don't think I do. Generally it's considered sufficient to forbid bullying and taking advantage of people just for the sake of common human decency, but if you had something else in mind, feel free to elaborate. Bearing in mind that I haven't actually done anything particularly objectionable — like, I don't know, sticking my nose in to defend someone who doesn't want or need my help."

Cathy went a very amusing shade of pink at that, but apparently couldn't bring herself to articulate her objection, opening and closing her mouth twice more, eyes flicking over to Éanna again. Tee hee.

After a few seconds, Lyra decided she probably wasn't going to actually say anything to defend her intrusion, and shut the door in her face, tossing a casual sound barrier at it to block out her shrill objections and furious knocking, and returned to re-arranging her books.

Yes, she decided, the elves were probably trying to inconvenience her. They could have kept these in order, bringing them here from her former study, but they'd mixed them all up. She wasn't entirely sure, elf magic being somewhat different than human magic, but she was pretty sure that would have taken more effort than just transporting them in the same position relative to each other. (Bugger. That probably meant she owed them an apology. Or at least some recognition of the extra work she'd made for them, and general flattery.)

To be fair, she hadn't actually needed to demand they move everything for her if they were going to kick her out of her study. She could have moved them herself, and she didn't actually need a study at all, now that she'd mastered shadow-walking. If she wanted to work somewhere without distractions, she could just go home. She hadn't actually used the study in months, aside from occasionally popping in to fetch books she'd left there. She'd really just done it to be contrary.

Of course, it wasn't like she was planning on leaving, now that everything had been moved. (Everything being a bookcase, an armchair, and a lap-desk. She had had a few end-tables situated around her chair, but she was pretty sure she could just levitate her books and papers by now — levitation charms weren't that much more difficult to maintain than illusions — or stick them in shadow-pockets to keep them at hand, so she'd let the elves put those back in storage.) She had asked them to bring everything here for a reason, after all — it suited her for everyone else to consider her somewhat outside the usual House and year system, exempting her from its strict expectations for where she ought to be and what she ought to be doing at any given time. Associating herself with the apprentices and their odd, liminal position in the structure of authority within the school was almost as good a way to do that as becoming the Hogwarts Champion or convincing the firsties (not just the snakelings, she'd gotten to the other Houses, too) that she was a fourth-year prefect (however briefly, most of them had been corrected by now).

In fact, she would probably spend considerably more time here than she had in her old study, specifically for that reason. Of course, that meant she would have to ward the space properly — it wouldn't do for anyone to break in to vandalise the place or set some kind of trap for her. Contrary to popular belief, she was aware exactly how many people she infuriated on a daily basis, and the Weasley twins were going to be absolutely furious when she refused to tell them how to enter their names in the Goblet of Fire. (Because they wouldn't be able to get by whatever enchantments Dumbledore's used to check their age by having been born in Nineteen Fifty, not because they'd actually be any sort of competition in the selection, but she wouldn't exactly be able to tell them that.)

She'd just started outlining the basic scheme when an elf she didn't recognise popped into existence, right in front of her. Granted, she didn't recognise all the elves, but she did know most of the ones who were routinely sent to interact with the humans of the school. Especially all the ones who spoke passable English.

"Please excuse Winky's interruption, Miss, but the Head Elf is wanting to speak with Miss, at her earliest convenience."

Lyra groaned. "What now?"

The elf's ears drooped at her disapproving tone, eyes falling to the floor, fingers playing with the edge of her tea-towel, but she didn't immediately fall into a paroxysm of apologies. "Elf Mistress Rose is not informing Winky of her business, Miss."

And no offer to immediately inquire on Lyra's behalf. Either Winky had been informed that Lyra was not to be pandered to (unlikely, if the elves were trying to annoy her), or she had quite a lot more backbone than the average Hogwarts elf. Hogwarts elves, she'd noticed, tended to be distinctly more subservient than the Black elves. Though...that might actually have been the Black elves being unusually willful — she'd met elves from other Houses who were just as bad as the Hogwarts elves. Whatever. This one, at least, seemed reasonably confident. Maybe she was new, just hadn't been here long enough to get into the habit of bowing to the students.

"What's your name?" she asked, switching to Elvish to make it clear she meant her real name.

The elf's eyes went very wide in surprise before tears began to well in their corners (surprising Lyra nearly as much). She hid her face in her hands, sniffling piteously, though obviously trying not to.

"Lyra, you can't just go around bullying and taking advantage of people just because they're not human," Éanna noted, in a light tone suggesting he knew full well how silly that implication was. Apparently he had been listening.

Still, "I didn't do anything!" she protested, switching to Gaelic, just for the practice. They were going to have representatives from Saoirse Ghaelach (and the muggle Irish government) here in a matter of weeks — seemed like as good a reason as any to start learning it. "I just spoke her own language to her!"

"You speak Elvish?"

"Obviously, yes. I spoke Elvish before I spoke English...though if you tell anyone, I'll deny it." She wasn't quite certain how that should be phrased, so she waited while Éanna repeated it for her before adding, "I asked her what her name is."

"Miss speaks Elvish like Master Barty," the elf said (in Elvish), making a valiant attempt to stop crying.

"Master...Barty Crouch?" Lyra couldn't think of any other 'Barty's' who would obviously speak Elvish. The elf nodded. "What is Bartemius Crouch's house elf doing— Wait, no, I don't care." She was mildly curious, but not enough to sit through what would doubtless be a tear-filled tale of tragedy, given that she had obviously been recently dismissed if she still thought of Crouch as her master. "You said Ros wants to talk to me?"

The elf nodded again, extending a hand toward her with one last sniffle. "Yes, Miss, Winky can be bringing Miss to her."

Yeah, no. Side-along elf 'popping' was somewhere between side-along apparation and riding in one of those thrice-cursed automobiles on her list of least-favourite methods of transportation. "Not necessary. I can find her myself."

Crouch's elf's doubtful stare followed her as she stepped into the shadows, seeking out the Head Elf. It was a bit more difficult to orient oneself toward an elf in their own home than it was finding a human — elves' magic tended to blend in, being so deeply connected to the wards — but it wasn't by any means impossible. Especially given how much practice Lyra had gotten over the summer, interpreting the different textures of magic in the Shadows and their relationship to the physical plane. Plus, Ros was almost always in the kitchens or the warrens, which narrowed down the search quite a lot. Or, well, it would have, if this wasn't one of the rare occasions that she wasn't. When Lyra finally stepped back out of the shadows — obviously some time had passed, though probably only a few minutes, since Winky was still apologising profusely to the Head Elf for returning without her — it was into one of the less-frequented courtyards. Ros was accompanied by several younger, stronger-looking elves and what was unmistakably...

"Is that a bad elf?"

It had to be, it was wearing one of those horrid, patterned neckties Sirius insisted some muggles actually wore (their one and only muggle shopping excursion had been highly entertaining, if not particularly productive), and a pair of shiny, equally muggle-looking shorts, bright gold, with mis-matched socks pulled up to its knees. All of this topped off by a tea cosy (actually pretty clever, that — it had built-in ear-holes) covered in pin-on buttons advertising various causes and groups, including Save the Whales, the World Health Organization, and something called "PeTA".

"Yes." Ros's distaste for the bad elf (an un-elf-like elf, deeply unwell) before her was obvious, just from the tone of that one word.

The bad elf overcame its shock at hearing a human speak Elvish relatively quickly. "Yes, I am a free—" Unattached, nice way to put it. "—elf, and proud of it!" he declared, straightening his shoulders and glaring defiantly at Ros. "And I want to talk to the Master of Hogwarts!"

"You see my problem," Ros said, ignoring the elf's request.

"It is for the Master to decide whether to hire a new elf, not you!" He had to use the English word, because Elvish didn't really have the same concept of paying a worker for their labour.

"I see your problem, but not why I'm here. I'm sure you can eject it from the Castle perfectly well without my assistance."

"Ejecting the bad elf from the grounds will not resolve the problem it presents," the Head Elf said darkly.

...Yes, that was true, he would just keep wandering around, looking for a new home — they invariably did, completely unfamiliar with any other lifestyle than that of the culture in which they were raised, with no other viable alternatives available. It wasn't as though there was a community of 'free' elves they could join, because, well, an elf couldn't really live without a home, or at least a master. Survive, yes, maybe, if they were somehow able to provide for themselves without using magic, but not live. It was almost inevitable that they would resort to using magic, recklessly overestimate their own ability to control their power, and blow themselves up.

There were places elves could go, if they were unfortunate enough to lose their Family. The vast majority of the Black elves, for example, had attached themselves to various public ward-schemes designed specifically to provide limits for elves, working on behalf of the community at large in the absence of an actual family. But the elves who had already taken sanctuary in such public warrens would not stand for the presence of a bad elf any more than the Hogwarts elves wanted to deal with him.

See, there was a difference between elves like Winky, displaced by circumstance from their homes or dismissed by their masters for some unknown offense — such elves were often absolutely desperate to find a new place to belong, which could be difficult, especially if they had been dismissed, but not impossible — and elves like this.

Lyra was almost certain that tweelks, the parasite elves insisted caused this mania, were only metaphorical — an explanation for a well-known (and, to the elves, tragic) condition, characterised by the sudden, inexplicable desire for freedom (as though the alliance between the elves and humans of a House was something other than mutually beneficial) and distance, lonely independence. It was often accompanied by a delusion of human superiority and disdain for the traditional House structure, and in the worst cases, by a strange emulation of customs the victims observed between humans — most often attempting to form contracts and hire themselves out as labour, which was far more exploitative in Lyra's view than simply doing one's part for one's Family. (According to Michael Cavan, some muggles even considered that a form of slavery, ironically.) But it hardly mattered whether it was all in their heads, some psychosis or elf version of the Madness. Ideas could be as contagious as any parasite, and regardless of the cause it was known to spread, a creeping sort of rot which could, in the worst cases, destroy the cohesion and cooperation of entire households if left unchecked.

No sane Head Elf would allow an elf like this to take up residence in their home. If he somehow managed to convince Dumbledore to hire him, and Dumbledore ordered Ros to allow the bad elf to stay, she and all the other Hogwarts elves would shun him, maintaining as little contact with him as possible, in the hopes that his 'illness' would not spread to them.

Lyra didn't really see a problem with bad elves, theoretically speaking. She was herself a bad elf according to Lil, the elf who had raised her. (Which was just fucking fine, because she wasn't really an elf at all, and unlike actual bad elves, she had a place in the human world...even though they all knew she wasn't really human, either.) Personally, she was all for letting them go off and do whatever they liked, work for a few sickles a week — undoubtedly for some unscrupulous human, one who didn't want to invest in or submit to the sort of magic needed to bind an elf's magic properly, or of such weak character no sane elf would enter such a bond (because even a bad elf wouldn't go work for a goblin) — suffering the horrors of House-less poverty until they self-destructed, if that was what they wanted — elves understood the value of money even less than Lyra did, 'free' elves nearly always ended up getting screwed negotiating employment contracts.

But even she would admit that she understood why the average elf found bad elves terrifying and wanted nothing to do with them. They were divisive elements, and not even interesting ones (good elves weren't reactive enough for the situation to get interesting), rejecting their culture and adopting all the worst human ideas. A threat to their very way of life, in much the same way the strictest traditionalists saw progressives — though Lyra was fairly certain that progressives weren't really that much of a threat. And they had just as much right to want nothing to do with a bad elf as a bad elf had to go off and do their own thing.

The problem was, most bad elves weren't so delusional that they wanted absolutely nothing to do with other elves. Many considered their change of heart or psychosis or 'infection' to be a revelation, and in fact wanted to remain in their own homes, try to convince the others of the virtues of freedom, or, if they managed to obtain their freedom and were subsequently exiled by their kith and kin — who would mourn them as though they had died — sought out a new home alongside other elves. Absolutely none of whom were willing to have anything to do with them.

Coming to Hogwarts was actually a stroke of genius on this elf's part: Dumbledore almost certainly would not understand why Ros was so set against welcoming this elf into her home — from the Headmaster's perspective, there was no difference between a good elf and a bad elf besides the aforementioned few sickles a week. He would be able to live alongside other elves, even be brought back into a system of ward-limits, without being forced to conform to the well-defined relationships of a Family. But the Hogwarts elves definitely wouldn't be allowing him to reach the Headmaster's office. And there were a lot more of them.

"What's your point?"

"We will not bring a bad elf into our home, but neither do we wish to send it away, leaving it to suffer."

"So, you want me to put it out of its misery?" Because she wasn't going to take it in, either. Cherri would have a fit.

The bad elf gave a half-offended, half-fearful squeak. "No, Mistress, I will leave, I will not be a bother, Mistress!"

Ros glared it into silence. "No, young Mistress Black, the elves of Hogwarts wish for you to find a place for this elf."

"What? No! The Black elves don't want it either! I don't even have to ask, I know Cherri will say no."

"Is the elf Cherri the Mistress of the House of Black? It was not she who made a promise to the elves of Hogwarts on behalf of her House. We do not ask that the House of Black take the bad elf as one of their own, only that you find a place for it."

Translation: we don't care, it's your problem, now.

For a brief moment, Lyra actually considered breaking her promise, just telling Ros to go to hell. But, no, she had offered that favour with every intention of fulfilling it, whatever it might be. If she didn't follow through on it, Eris would be disappointed in her — gods tended to take the giving of one's word very seriously — and reneging would definitely result in worse consequences than the occasional disarrangement of her books. She groaned. "Yes, fine, I will take the bad elf and find a place for it."

A place far away from any of the Black properties, preferably somewhere no one who would tell Cherri would find out about it. Like, with the Grangers, maybe? Emma would be taking their seat in the Wizengamot soon, it could be useful to have an elf to look out for her — Meda had expressed concerns about potential assassination attempts — and it wouldn't take that much work to adjust the wards on the muggle property to accommodate a single elf. Well, okay, she'd have to re-write the entire thing, it would probably take a week or two, but it was doable. Assuming she could convince Emma and Dan that it was a good idea to take on an elf. At least muggles wouldn't think it was really fucking weird to pay him. In fact, given Hermione's initial reaction to the very concept of house elves, that might actually be a selling point.

"What if I don't want to go with young Mistress Black?" the elf asked, glaring petulantly down (up) its long, pointed nose at her. "I will not bind myself into servitude like the poor deluded elves you consider your property, human girl."

She rolled her eyes. "Then your place is going to be abandoned on the streets of Los Angeles to fend for yourself. I don't break my word, I will find a place for you. Which will not be among the elves of House Black — who are Family, not things to be owned. I would advise you never to imply otherwise, but it would actually be for the best if you were never to meet any of them."

"Why? Do you have something to hide?"

Okay, that suspicious glare was actually kind of funny. "Do you really think the House of Black doesn't have anything to hide? But my reason is this: the elves of the House of Black are just as ruthless as its humans. Our elf-mistress would not hesitate to eliminate the threat a bad elf poses to her House, not so soon after reviving it from the brink of destruction. Now, choose. Do you want to try your luck in muggle America, or do you want a job?"

After a long moment of staring up at her, likely trying to weigh her sincerity, the elf capitulated. "Dobby wants a job, Miss."

"Lovely." She rolled her eyes, turning back to Ros. "Satisfied, Elf-Mistress?"

"I will be once you get that thing off my lands." Her mostly disapproving, slightly fearful glare still fixed on the bad elf was, Lyra thought, eerily similar to the one Petunia Dursley had worn when Lyra showed up on her doorstep. Really, it was uncanny.

"Yes, yes, going! Come on, Dobby," she demanded, already walking away. "Can you pop?"

"Er...no. That is, not...safely," he answered, scrambling to catch up.

She sighed. Not as though she hadn't expected as much. She wasn't about to try to drag a bloody house elf through the Shadows or Apparation Space, and the abandoned properties in Knockturn, the only place she could reasonably stash the elf while she negotiated with the Grangers, didn't have a floo connection, so they'd need a broom...

Somehow, Lyra had a suspicion that this was only the beginning of the inconveniences this elf was going to cause her.

So, queens.

Catherine Parr was the last of Henry VIII's wives.

Queen Victoria II is the current Queen of England, due to Sandra's disinclination to turn actual people into characters in fanfic. In her headcanon Harry Potter universe, the royal family suffered far more casualties in WWII, resulting in Victoria (a cousin of some degree to the actual, real world Queen) taking the throne. She's in her late forties at this point, a few years older than Bellatrix. Lyra was introduced to the royal family (tagging along with her Uncle Draco, the Black Cloak, on business) when she was eight or nine, and so has actually met her before (when she was still a princess, obviously). That didn't happen in this timeline, so Queen Victoria definitely wouldn't recognize her.

(Victoria II was originally a character in a fic idea I had where Lily survived Halloween '81 and ended up leading a revolution against the Wizengamot/Ministry. Never ended up getting very far, but it is a fun idea, so things from it bleed around sometimes. —Lysandra)

Lyra is so definitely a house elf. Also, it's very likely that Dan would say fuck no to the idea of a house elf, so Dobby is probably going to end up with Dora. Works out well, because she hasn't any clean mugs. Ever. Plus, she's mostly out of the country, not like she's there to order him around. —Leigha